#;aesthetics: {a touch of frost} | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muchosbesitos · 3 months

Note

hear me out, we already know Miguel is probably touch-starved, but imagine him being really touch-starved. Maybe the reader is a baker or smth so she's naturally sweet (wink wink nudge nudge) and maybe just a little chubby. Miguel is always shy about asking readers for small things, like kisses and hugs, but she's really nice about it.

One day, Miguel has had a bad day and goes over to the reader's house for cuddles and is very grumpy about it, which makes reader kinda surprised and flustered to see how demanding he is about it. But as he's cuddling with her, he is very touchy per se and won't stop kneading parts of reader's thighs and shmoobis, which makes her really flustered but she doesn't want to ruin Miguel's moment

this could be smutty but fluff and the end because Miguel deserves a little sweetness in his life

sweetest bite

pairing: miguel o’hara x chubby fem reader

contents: thigh fucking, nipple play, mating press, miguel being a munch (as per usual), oral (m), improper use of frosting, aftercare(ish)

author’s note: i’m so behind on requests i’m so sorry, i promise i’ll get to work on them 😭 i hope you still enjoy this though. trying sum new with the whole layout so lmk your thots 🥸

word count: 6.8k (yeah idk how to explain this one chief)

You were the sweetest thing miguel allowed himself to indulge in. Well, you and your pastries. He'd gotten so used to sacrificing his happiness for the better of the multiverse, of sacrificing everything that he had to give just to make sure that it stayed intact. But, he couldn't stay away from the little baker that set shop on 11th street in Nueva York.

"You should go and visit this little shop I found a couple days ago. The empanadas are to die for," Jess had told him after the last batch at the HQ hadn't been up to par with his standards. He wasn't expecting much out of his visit, the most he was hoping for was decent replacement for the botched empanadas and a cup of coffee. After all, Jess had never strayed him in the wrong direction in terms of food.

The scent of cinnamon and a pinch of vanilla filled up his nostrils as he walked into the shop, the aroma providing a homely feeling. It didn't compare to the other shops scattered around the city, the ones who smelt like stale bread and probably had rats scattering around in this back. Every single space from the shop looked clean, the white floors beneath his feet almost showing his reflection.

No, this was one was nice. From the peonies that you had on a vase at the front desk to the sheer decoration of the walls, a couple paintings scattered across the pink and white walls. Nothing looked out of place, everything seemed to coordinate perfectly. The lofi music playing in the background only added to the atmosphere, putting him in a more relaxed mood than he originally was. His jaw unclenched and his muscles were slack, a sense of calmness rushing through him.

The people inside also seemed to have a silent understanding that the atmosphere was supposed to be relaxing, conversations exchanged in light whispers. It was a nice change of pace from the usual bustling streets of Nueva York, almost like a place where time seemed to stop completely. A place that was an escape from the city, a safe haven of sorts. It provided him with a sense of normalcy he wasn't even aware that he wanted.

He normally didn't spend time appreciating the aesthetic of a place given how busy his schedule was, but he could see the appeal of this little shop. He almost regretted not finding this shop earlier, it provided with more relaxation than he'd ever find at the empty tables of the HQ cafeteria. There was nobody here that knew him, nobody there to avoid his presence or criticize his actions. Everyone just regarded him like he was one of their own, continuing on with their conversations.

What Jess had failed to mention to him before he came here is that the owner would be so enthralling. You weren't doing much apart from tapping something into the register yet you still managed to capture his attention. He wanted to look away to avoid coming off as a creep but his eyes seemed to defy his brain's instructions, keeping his attention solely for you. The chatter in the background died to a low hum as he watched you hand a paper bag to the man in front of you.

"How's your wife and kids?" He couldn't help but be taken aback when the question slipped from your lips, surprised at the gesture. Most of the people in Nueva York were so consumed in their own lives that they didn't bother to remember much about anybody else, much less ask any questions that didn't serve them an individual gain. Even with his enhanced hearing, all he could focus was on what you were saying like a siren luring him in.

He could tell from the little smile on your face that the man was engaging in the conversation, your hands struggling to keep up as you talked with him. He'd overheard you mention something about packing in a few extra cookies for the kids, his heart swelling at a gesture that wasn't even meant for him. You and the man kept talking for about another minute before he told you goodbye and you waved at him as he departed the shop. Miguel was next in line, but he felt his feet stuck to the ground like quicksand.

He was so enticed by the sight of you, the way your eyes illuminated under the white lights. Lighting that would normally make someone appear sickly only seemed to accentuate your features out to him even more. "Next, please," your voice came out like sheer honey to his ears, snapping him out of the trance he was in. He took two steps forward, coming up to the register. He'd spent so much of time simply just looking at you that he hadn't even bothered to look over the menu. You didn't annoyed at him for holding up the line, your finger tapping against the marble countertop as you waited for his decision.

"I'll get two of your conchas and three of your empanadas with a hot roast coffee," he finally spoke up after a while, looking over from the menu to you. "You want the empanadas made out of flour or corn?" You inquired after typing the order into the register. "I’ll get corn, please," he pulled out his wallet as he spoke, handing you much more than the amount showing up on the screen. You tried to give him back the change, but it only ended up in the pink tip jar you had set next to the register.

"Can I get a name for your order, please?" You asked him before he had the chance to walk away, his footsteps coming to a stop before he turned over to face you. "Miguel," he responded before he finally stepped away, leaving you feeling flustered and confused. The way his voice sounded to your ears was something out of pure sin, a part of you wanting to indulge in that as much as possible. But you refused to make a big deal out of the mildly handsome customer, refused to make a big deal out of the fleeting glances he shot your way and the way he also seemed to feel a spark between the two of you when your hands touched.

You could feel his stare as you kneaded the dough, but you didn't seem to mind it all that much. It seemed more like he was analyzing you, the way that you moved rather than something predatory. You had a small radio set up in the back to liven up the mood while you were baking, your hips swaying to the rhythm of the salsa song playing. You hummed along to the beat, setting the pan in the oven. You leaned against the counter as you waited, all the other goods pretty much set for another couple hours.

"Miguel!" You called out, watching as he got off the spot he was leaning on and walked over to you. He thanked you once you handed him the paper bag, his fingertips almost seeming to purposely want to touch yours this time around. Nope. Not gonna make a big deal out it. You forced yourself to look away from him as he stepped away from the counter, plastering a smile on your face as you greeted the next customer coming in. Greta. You'd taken the time to learn these people's names and learn what it is that they tended to get just to give them a sense of being seen.

The first bite of the concha had been delectable, a low moan escaping from his lips as he savored the taste of the warm cinnamon and vanilla blending together. He hadn't had a concha like this one since he took a business trip to Mexico. While Nueva York was quickly adjusting to fit the needs of the diversifying population, it didn't mean that every restaurant provided that taste of home he was longing for. Most of them just felt like a cheap replacement of the real thing, the taste usually bland and lacking seasoning.

But now he had an entirely different dilemma on his hands. a part of him wanted to eat the concha slowly, savor every bite of the treat while the other part of him wanted to scarf it down as quickly as he could. Eventually he lost the battle against his self control, eating the two conchas and one of the empanadas. Every part of this evening had surpassed his expectations, the empanadas being more than 'decent.' He would normally be more careful in the way that he ate, but now, crumbs were making their way down his black shirt and to his pants. Yet, he could seem to care less.

"How'd you like the treats? I haven't seen you around before so I'm assuming it's your first time," You asked him as he stepped up to the register, your head tilting back slightly to look at the man in the eyes. The afternoon sunlight coming from the door accentuated his eyes, almost making them look like a melting pot of rubies. While your shop was met with various different people everyday at almost every hour, you knew that you couldn't forget him even if you tried. His name still rang like a melody throughout your head.

"Liked them so much i'm planning on buying another concha," he told you, sliding one hand into the pocket of his pants to take his wallet out. "I'm glad you liked them so much. That'll be two dollars," you told him, taking the money from him and setting it in the cash register. You waved at him as he left, convincing yourself that the look back he gave after stepping out of the shop hadn't been for you. Even if you really wished that it would've been. All you could do was just hope that he would come back again soon.

Going back to work had proven to be more of a struggle than he originally thought, His mind replaying the small moments between the two of you. Your hand grazing against his as you handed him the cup of coffee. The smile that seemed to be just a little bit wider when directed towards him. He could still feel his hand tingling from the spot where you'd touched him, your touch electrifying him every way possible.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered to himself as he opened up one of the files on the monitors, the words blurring together despite his best efforts to maintain his focus. He felt like a fool, being in his 30s and obsessing over somebody in this manner like he was a school boy. Despite the fact that he felt like a fool, he couldn't help the smile that threatened to overcome his features at just the mere thought of seeing you again in that little pink apron. All he could do was munch on the extra concha that he'd bought, his mind constantly wandering back to you.

Miguel hadn't attempted to be in a relationship after finding his ex and his father sleeping together, the experience being enough to traumatize him for this lifetime and the next. He'd given up on being a romantic, of going through the motions of learning what a woman's favorite color was and gifting her flowers that ended up wilting by the hour. He'd engaged in a few hookups from time to time, though he only ended up feeling like an asshole afterwards. They expected his call back, only to have their text not even go through. But.. he wasn't interested in you for that.

Sure, he could admit it to himself that you were probably one of the most beautiful women he's laid eyes on. The way your hips moved in the shop was hypnotic, the small movement making all sorts of domestic thoughts run through his head. But he wanted to know what it was that made you tick, what made you laugh, what it is that made you cry. He didn't see you as a prize to gain, but rather as something that he wanted to treasure. Someone that he could see himself coming home to after a long day of work.

The week following his first visit, he'd been buried under mountains of work. Whether it be misplaced files, a sudden surge of anomalies popping up, or just the daily Spider-Man activities that he was tasked with. He'd been looking for a spare opportunity to go back into your shop, maybe ask for your number this time around, but that opportunity usually got shot down with the amount of work he had due. He'd only managed to get a couple glimpses of you when he happened to swing by your store a couple times, his memory saving the moment like an sd card.

He'd managed to get a few moments to himself on a Friday, leaving immediately to go to your bakery before he got stopped by one of the members. He'd barely had one interaction with you and he was already starting to feel depraved having to go a couple days without talking to you. The bell placed on top of the door announced his arrival as he came in, your attention shifting from the counter you were restocking over to the door. You looked as beautiful as every time he's had the pleasure of seeing you.

"Thought you might've found another bakery to go to, Miguel. After you complimented my conchas too," you spoke first, giving him a teasing smile as he approached the counter. "There's no other bakery that would be able to size up to this one. I just got busy with work is all," he knew that you were just teasing him, but he still wanted to explain himself to you. Though he wasn't sure if you'd even thought about him that much. but surely you had, since you noted his absence. He was struggling the same as you were not to let these little gestures go to his head.

"Do you want what you got last time?" You asked him, his heartbeat thundering against his own ears. It was like you were trying to kill him now. He could understand why so many people came to your bakery now, for that feeling of being seen by you. Of getting that sense of meaning something to someone, well at least enough for you to remember their order. "Make it three conchas instead of two this time, please," he responded, once again giving you way much more than the amount had totaled out to be before going to wait for his order.

All he knew was that he had to have more than the complimentary conversation with you, but he couldn't figure out how to approach it. "The shop isn't too busy, what would you say to having a cup of coffee with me?" He mustered up the courage to ask you, his gaze almost burning into your soul as he waited for an answer. He hoped that he wouldn't push you away with this sudden offer, hoping that it hadn't been too forward on his part. He'd meant for it as a friendly outing for you to relax a while, but he wouldn't be able to deny the fact that he was already thinking of how to ask you on a date.

You looked around the shop to find that it was indeed empty, only a couple people talking amongst themselves left. Even if someone walked in, you had another employee that would be able to assist them. "Sure, let me just go hang up my apron and I’ll go join you," you finally spoke up after taking a couple seconds to consider, turning around to mask the excitement threatening to overcome your body. You slid off your apron and set it to the side, getting yourself a cup of coffee before walking over to the booth Miguel was sitting at. It almost felt ridiculous to admit to yourself that you were able to now find him in every room that he stepped in with ease.

"How long have you been a baker for?" He asked you after taking a bite of his concha, wiping away the crumbs that lingered onto his white shirt. "I've been baking for some time now, since I was in like middle school? I used to practice with an easy bake oven when I was younger before evolving into actually edible things," you shared with him, your eyes practically lighting up at the prospect of getting to talk about something that meant a lot to you. Conversation flowed easily enough between the two of you, an exchange of questions being asked from both sides.

You looked up over to the door when you heard the bell ringing, the second wave of customers walking in. As much as you would've liked to continue talking with him, you knew that your one employee wouldn't be able to handle the rush by themselves. "It was lovely talking to you. but I have to get going back to work," you stood up from the table as you spoke, grabbing the empty cup of coffee. Before you got the chance to walk away though, Miguel wrapped his arm around your wrist. Not tight enough for it to hurt, but certainty enough for it to make you stop in your tracks.

"I want to go on a date with you. I'd really like to keep talking with you, if that's something you wanted," he told you, his grip around your wrist loosening before eventually letting go. You grabbed a napkin from the corner of the table and a pen from your pocket, hastily scribbling out your number on it. "Just text me and we can work something out. I want to keep talking to you too," you responded before you went back to work, though your mind wasn't too much on the baked goods as much as it was on Miguel for the rest of the evening.

Your first date with Miguel was something that you'd never forget, the way he looked over at you every time you had something to share about yourself or the way that he let some of his walls down to let you pass through. But the way that his lips felt against yours was the most memorable part of the evening, your apartment lights just illuminating enough for you to make out the shape of his face. Every date following that one was a moment of absolute bliss, time seeming to stop whenever you two were together.

You were at the dining table when he came back from work, your brows furrowed in concentration as you mixed the bowl in your hands. The sweet aroma of vanilla reminded him that he was home again. The light at the end of a tunnel. it almost got him out of the mood that he was in. Almost. The exhaustion and annoyance from the day managed to maintain their claws on him, his footsteps trudging up the stairs as he went to change. He deactivated his suit, pulling a pair of grey sweatpants and a black tee over himself before going back downstairs.

You'd heard the door open but you were surprised to find that Miguel didn't bother to greet you the same way he used to. 'Cariño, ya llegue,' he'd say after a long day at work, (honey i’m home) Usually taking a seat across from you at the dining table just to hear you talk about your day. You figured that he just needed some space, that he'd come to you if he wanted that sense of intimacy from you again. You busied yourself with mixing in the dry ingredients along with the wet ones, almost ready to put the batter in the oven.

"Missed you so bad, hermosura," you heard from behind you, large arms wrapping around your stomach while his head rested on your shoulder. You were about to tell him that the sentiment was mutual when you felt his hands making their way up to your breasts, kneading them in his hands. He let out a contented sigh as he felt your body mold underneath his hands, having you turn into putty at just the smallest touch. He'd never been this touchy with you before, well he'd never been the one to start off this type of contact.

As much as he liked the feeling of your lips molding against his, the feeling of having your body pressed against him with every hug that he gave you, he never asked for it. He was just.. too shy to even try to start it off. He figured that it would come off as something weird, that his inexperience towards having intimate moments would be shed into the light. He knew that you wouldn't make fun of him for that, but a part of him couldn't help but be wary. He usually just tended to wait until you came up to him, wrapping your arms around him as you sought out for the comfort that only he could provide.

You felt your body being ignited into flames from the way he was touching, your body a manual that he had read thousands of times before. He knew everything that would turn your little head off to anything other than him. You didn't want to stop him now that he was feeling comfortable enough to initiate contact with you, but you'd almost mixed in a spoonful of salt rather than sugar. You willed yourself to finish up with the batter, your hands shaking as you brought the electric mixer down to the bowl.

"Miguel, lemme focus on finishing up with this batch and we can do whatever you want after that," you tried to negotiate with him, the plea landing on deaf ears as his hands travelled down to the expanse of your ass. Your back was arching instinctively, reacting solely to his commands. Sometimes it felt like he had more control of your body than you ever did, every little thing that he did serving a purpose to arouse you even further. He squeezed gently, his hands coming up to rest on your hips as he nestled his head into the crook of your shoulder.

"Don't let me interrupt you. Sigue con tus pastelitos e ignora mis caricias," his voice dropped about an octave as he spoke, his lips dangerously close to your ear. (keep at it with your cupcakes and ignore my caresses) Surely he must've known that what he was telling you to do was pointless. He knew the effect that he had on your body, knows the effect that he's having on you at this moment. You let out a small sigh of relief once the batter had finished mixing in, pouring it in slowly into the pan. You stepped off to the side, putting the pan inside the oven before turning to face Miguel.

"Let me just have your thighs, I won't ask for more," he murmured, his hands coming down to your thighs while his thumbs rubbed small circles on them. At your approval, he went over and sat down at the dining table, his legs spreading to give you access to sit down. He looked like a king sitting down on his throne, his large thighs taking up most of the space on the chair. Almost like he demanded respect. His thighs flexed with every movement, your legs moving on their own accord to get closer to him.

"You have approximately," you started off, your eyes shifting over to the small clock on the kitchen counter, "ten minutes." He let out a small chuckle, lifting his hips up to slide his sweatpants just underneath his balls. He'd made it a habit of going commando underneath his suit, the habit following into his daily attire as well. His cock was already starting to leak precum onto his stomach despite the fact you two hadn't done anything too extreme yet. "That's okay. I only needed nine anyways."

You sat down in between his legs, squeezing your thighs together while the tip of his cock prodded at the underside of your legs. You felt the chair creaking underneath you as he thrusted his hips into your thighs. "Would've done this sooner if I would've known it felt this good. Love your thighs so much, mami," despite the fact that he tried to keep up with his dominant persona, he would do anything if it meant he got to have you like this again.

His hands travelled up his your shirt, rolling your nipples in between his fingers. Your back was flush against his chest as your mouth slightly opened, heavy breaths escaping from your lips. His slick coated the insides of your thighs, wetting them in his essence. Your hand went down to where the tip of his cock was poking through, your thumb rubbing small circles alongside the tip.

"Close your legs a little more for me mami."

"Yeah, just like that," he managed to get out through labored breaths, your thighs squeezing his cock in a similar way that your pussy would. You felt his mouth making its way down your throat, nibbling on the sensitive spots that would have you squirming. His touch was everywhere except for where you needed him the most, your desperation towards the situation growing even further. For someone who'd only agreed to thigh fucking, you seemed to be regretting it already.

You felt your slick leaking down from your folds down to the thin material of your panties, one of your hands reaching down to alleviate the tension building inside you. You hadn't even managed to make it to the waistband before Miguel was already pulling your fingers away, holding it with his other hand. "So greedy. Only I'm allowed to please that little pussy, remember," he warned you, though his voice carried no actual sense of danger to it given how needy he sounded. He made it a point to be the only one to please you, not your own fingers and certainly not anybody else's fingers.

He was rutting into your thighs at an erratic pace, no sense of stability as he felt his balls start to tighten up with every second that your warm thighs enveloped him. That was until he heard the loud 'RING' from the countertop. "No te pares. I'm almost there," he tried to speak over the sound of the timer's ring but you were already standing up by the time he'd finished speaking. (don’t stand up) You wiped away the sweat that accumulated on your forehead, taking a couple deep breaths to get your breathing back to normal. "What happened to only needing nine minutes?"

He let out a small huff as he pulled his sweatpants back on, staying seated at the dinner table. Miguel wanted nothing more than to take you right now, but he was willing to be patient for a couple more minutes. You bent over to take the cupcakes out of the oven, the scent of vanilla hitting your nose instantly. You almost jumped at the feeling of miguel's hands rubbing your ass through your panties if it hadn't been for the fact you had a hot pan in your hands. You placed the pan down, taking the cupcakes out of it and setting them on a plate to get them ready for the frosting portion.

"Ah fuck," you trembled out as you felt Miguel's breath fan against your wet cunt, your pussy clenching around nothing at the sensation. "Already so wet and I haven't even touched her yet," he murmured, spreading your folds with two of his fingers. He let a globe of spit trail from your ass down to your cunt, feeling his cock strain against his sweatpants. He could feel your clit pulsing underneath his fingertips, your body betraying you when you said you wanted to wait. You wanted this as much as he did. If not, maybe even more.

You pushed your hips back onto his face as he pushed his tongue into your wet cunt, feeling your slick coat every single one of his tastebuds at the contact. He knew how proud you were of the baked goods you made, but none of them would ever compare to the taste of your essence. The frosting on the cupcakes started to come out lopsided as you tried to squeeze it on, your hands shaking every time you tried to bring the pipe up to them. "Don't stop," you moaned out, eventually just giving up on the task of trying to keep frosting the cupcakes. The perfectionist in you couldn't stand seeing the sight of the uneven plaster of frosting.

Miguel ate out your cunt like he was a starving man, the task messy as he spat into it and pushed his tongue inside you. Your slick mixed with his spit, the taste of you almost making him delirious. You gripped the countertop tightly, your eyes fluttered shut as you basked in everything that Miguel was giving you. His tongue swirled around your clit in small circles, the sudden stimulation having your toes curling and your eyes seeing stars. You turned around to look at him, your slick coating majority of his chin while some of it dribbled down to his shirt. His eyes were tightly shut as he focused on the task at hand, almost seeming more into it than you were.

You brought your hand up to his hair, tugging at the roots as you pushed him closed to your pussy. He'd vocalized before about how much he liked the mixture of pain and pleasure, a moan vibrating into your cunt as a response. You felt yourself getting closer to that climax, Miguel’s tongue continuing its motions on your clit while his thick fingers opened you up to take his cock later on. You let out an exasperated sigh when you felt him pull away from you just as you were about to cum, though that was quickly shut down when he pressed his lips onto yours.

You got down on your knees, wet kisses marking his tan skin as you made your way down his stomach. You looked over at him, the sight in front of you truly something to behold. His head was lolled back, half-lidded eyes as he met your gaze. His chest heaved with every breath that he took, growing heavier as he felt your lips starting to make their way down his happy trail. He'd stopped bothering to shave it after noticing how much you liked it, the way you licked your lips every time his sweatpants clung a little too low on his hips.

Though his cock was twitching with need right in front of you, painfully erect, you decided to take your time. You kissed his inner thighs, occasionally marking him the same way he'd do to you. Your fingernails raked their way down his thighs, the muscles tensing underneath your touch. You wanted to tease him just as much as he'd teased you earlier, wanting some type of comeback after your ruined orgasm. You delivered a couple more kisses before making your way to his cock, pressing a kiss on the reddened tip.

“Hand me that bag of frosting, please," your voice came out uncharacteristically seductive to your own ears. You'd grown so used to being the sweet girl at the bakery that you hadn't expected yourself to even be a seductress. Miguel reached over to grab the pipe with vanilla frosting inside, handing it over to you. You squirted a little bit of the frosting onto his shaft, setting the pipe aside before leaning in. Your mouth wrapped around his cock, your tongue licking the stripe of frosting up before pulling away. "Think you're gonna kill me, little minx."

Miguel's hands went down to the sides of your head as you took him in your throat, soft moans escaping from his lips. Spit dribbled down the side of his shaft, your hand wrapping around it as you worked it up and down. Though your hand was smaller than his, he enjoyed the feeling of having you jerk him off. Your touch felt more delicate than his own, which tended to be a series of harsh thrusts just to get a quick orgasm. Your mouth came down to his cock again, taking him in much deeper than last time.

Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock to make up for what your mouth couldn't reach, both working in tandem. Your cheeks hollowed as you tried to take him in deeper, willing the muscles in your throat to relax while you did so. "That's it, taking me so well. Nadie me lo chupa mejor que tu," he praised you as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, spit dribbling from the corners of your mouth.

As much as he wanted to cum inside your mouth and see the way that you struggled to sometimes keep his heavy load inside, he wanted nothing more than to cum inside your pussy beforehand. He pulled you off as the height of his peak, watching your eyes flicker over to his in confusion. You were pretty sure you were doing everything that he wanted you to do from his reactions, the way his moans just so freely escaped from his mouth.

"You didn't do anything wrong. just want to cum inside you before anything else," he assured you after seeing the expression of your face, helping you up from the floor. He wiped away the precum mixed in with your spit from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, holding it against your lips. He watched as your tongue darted out before enveloping his finger into your mouth. The way your tongue wrapped around it was heavenly, your eyes shutting as you cleaned off his finger.

Miguel went over to the sink and ran a paper towel under cold water, cleaning any remnants of the frosting that might've been left behind. The last thing the both of you needed was for you to get a UTI as a result from this encounter. He came back over to you, kissing your cheek and muttering some apology about the cupcakes. Not that you cared about them anyways, all you could think about was Miguel having his way with you. He grabbed your hand and intertwined with his, leading you out of the kitchen and out into the living room.

Miguel led you over to the couch, raising your knees up to your chest. You placed your hands underneath your legs, watching as Miguel gave himself a couple languid strokes before slowly pushing his cock inside. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned out as he felt your walls fluttering against him, your cunt stretching to adjust to him. Your mouth was parted in a 'o' shape as he pushed his cock even further, your wetness coating his shaft with every delicious inch that he pushed inside.

He loved looking down at you in this position, at how your face contorted into one of pleasure as the sting from the stretch settled in. The way that your tits bounced in sync with every single one of his punishing thrusts. He loved every single part of you, even the parts that you found yourself complaining about at times. He wanted to drill into your head that you were desire embodied, that nobody would be able to compare to the way that you do. No one was even close to comparing to you in his eyes.

Your body was basically bent in half as you laid there to take every single inch that he had to offer, the tip of his cock bulging against your tummy. "Feel how deep I am in you, mami?" He murmured, pressing his hand down where he was at before retreating his cock in one swift motion. The loss was quickly replaced when he thrusted back inside you, relishing the feeling of your walls clenching around him like a vice.

His heavy balls smacked against your ass with every thrust that he made, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the otherwise empty apartment. The loud squelch of your essence coating his cock added onto the symphony of sounds, moans escaping from the two of you as he started to get deeper with his thrusts. You felt filled up to the brim, yet it almost felt like you weren't getting enough. The desire you felt for Miguel wasn't something that was easily satiated, if anything it only grew more with the attention that he was giving you.

The hand that wasn't holding your legs came over to his arm, gripping it tightly for some kind of thing to tether you down to the moment. Your pussy clamped around him a vice, prompting him closer to his orgasm. He prolonged it as long as he could, reciting useless science facts inside of his head. An octopus has three hearts. Though his stamina was high enough to get hard after his orgasm, he didn't want to ruin the moment between the two of you by cumming prematurely.

One of his hands went down to your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves between his thumb and pointer finger. He rubbed small circles on it, his speed matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Your nails dug into his forearm the harder that his thrusts got, the pain only serving to accentuate his pleasure. "Fuck. Pussy's practically milking me," he uttered, his voice coming out in a groan at the way you were squeezing around him.

Your legs dropped down from your chest, wrapping around his legs as you held him close to you. If he'd even fathomed the idea of pulling out beforehand, the idea was quickly removed from the forefront of his brain the moment you did that. "Cum in me, please," your voice came out whiny as you felt yourself getting closer to that release, your toes curling from every rub being given to your clit. "Cum with me."

His hand enveloped yours as he slid in and out of you with ease, his pace having no rhythm now that he was approaching his orgasm. His thrusts were erratic as he worked the two of you towards that cliff, his fingers gripping yours tightly as if you were a lifeline. Warm ropes of cum shot up your cunt, your walls coated in white up to the brim. His orgasm had prompted your own, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you creamed over his shaft.

Your release mixed with his to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock, some of the liquid leaking out from your cunt. He stuffed it back in with the tip of his cock to the best of his ability, a moan escaping from your throat at the feeling of him sliding in once more. While you could usually match his stamina pretty well, it'd been days since you'd last had sex with him. You were starting to feel worn out from the physical strain he'd put your body through. You wouldn’t change this feeling of euphoria for anything else though.

Miguel slid his softening cock out of your cunt slowly, careful not to overstimulate you in the process. He leaned over and pressed a kiss on your forehead, wiping away the sweat from your forehead. "You did so good for me, lindura," he whispered in your ear, stroking your thighs in soft circles before standing up from the couch. "Stay there and I'll come back with some clothes."

You looked over at him and gave him a nod, your body falling limp on the couch as you felt an ache forming on your legs. You closed your eyes for a second, or what you'd assumed was a second, only to open them to see Miguel standing over you with a pair of pajama shirts and one of his t-shirts. "Try to sit up for me. You don't have to anything," he reassured you, getting to work on cleaning you up before dressing you after you'd sat up.

The two of you sat on the couch with a cheesy romance movie the two of you weren't watching, each holding a cupcake. His hand wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close to his body as his hand lazily drew circles on the side of your stomach. "I see why you liked that thing with the frosting. It's pretty sweet," he noted after taking a bite from his cupcake, leaning over to grab some that was sitting on your nose for a while. You let out a small contented laugh, poking the side of his cheek. There was no other place that you'd rather be other than his arms at this moment.

taglist 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02

2K notes · View notes

tayrae515imagines · 1 year

Text

Only Bought This Dress So You Could Take It Off.

Requested: Nope! I just love Jake Seresin.

Warnings: Language. Mentions of death. Losing a parent. Brief mentions of smut. Non-consensual touching (on the face for about two seconds.) Poorly grieving with death. Probably grammar, spelling or punctuation errors. Just go with it.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Fem!Kazansky!Reader (Call Sign: Frosty)

Type: Angst with a happy ending

Summary: Inspired heavily on Dress by Taylor Swift.

Y/N’s relationship with the one and only Jake Seresin has always been difficult to say the least. The two banter back and forth, constantly flirting or taunting each other. They have never been more than friendenemies at best until one day they weren’t and Y/N finds herself yearning for the one man who drives her absolutely crazy.

Authors Note: So I have seen Top Gun Maverick about twelve+ times since it came out about a year ago now. I just love it so much. It has easily become one of my favorite movies. From the storyline to the characters and overall movie aesthetic. I have spent the past few weeks reading nothing but Jake fics and felt like writing one myself.

I have not written anything in a very very veryyyy long time. So this honestly could be bad. But, with that being said, I am so happy with the direction this went in and it feels good to have written again. Please let me know your thoughts. :) I do also want to point out I have somewhat changed the timeline of the movie to fit my story. Thank you so much for reading!

Our secret moments in your crowded room

They got no idea about me and you

There is an indentation in the shape of you

Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

“You know, sometimes it physically pains me to hold back my sarcastic remarks around you.”

“Don’t hold back on my account darlin’.” That sickeningly sweet, southern draw floats by Y/N’s ear, making the girl roll her eyes.

The voice belongs to none other than Jake “Hangman” Seresin. The one person who seems to always get under Y/N’s skin despite her normally unbothered demeanor.

Frosty was the callsign Y/N had been gifted. Partly due to her cold and calm demeanor and another part due to her infamous father Tom “Iceman” Kazansky. Y/N had grown up admiring her father, wanting nothing more than to be like him one day. From a very young age the girl knew she was meant to be a pilot.

There was no denying that Y/N was given chances others weren’t but that didn’t mean the girl didn’t work just as hard as others, if not harder. Which is how she ended up back at Top Gun among the best of the best. One of which just happened to be the only man who managed to drive her mad.

“Bagman..I mean this in the most unloving way. Fuck off.”

“You wound me Frost.” The man put a hand over his heart in mock heartbreak. The girl rolled her eyes again as Jake leaned closer. “But if I’m going to fuck anything, it’s you.”

Y/N could feel the smirk on Jake’s face without even facing him. The girl was used to being flirted with, Navy men could be pigs at times. Normaly, it didn’t phase her in the slightest but for some reason, when it came to Jake Fucking Seresin, she just couldn’t help the flutter she felt in her heart.

“In your dreams Seresin.” She managed to get out, desperately trying to hide the blush rising on her cheeks.

“Trust me darlin, it is.” He winked and walked out of the room. Leaving Y/N to let out the breath she didn’t even realize she had been holding. The only thing the girl knew for sure, is no one has ever made her heart race like he did.

All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from all this (ah, ha, ha, ha)

The day was hot and that was putting it mildly. When you pair the sweltering California heat with the suffocating flight suit and heavy helmet, the weather felt like hell.

All Y/N wanted to do was get to the locker room and take a shower. The girl wanted it so bad she could imagine the shocking feel of ice cold water against her sweat covered skin. That thought alone brought a smile to her face. After a long day of stressful training, she just wanted to relax. Unfortunately for her, someone had other plans.

“We all know you are only in this program because your daddy pulled some strings. You can pretend otherwise but I know the truth.” The deep voice floats down the hall behind Y/N, causing the girl to turn around with a raised brow.

“Do you think you are the first person to have said that to me?” The girl crossed her arms, glaring at the man standing in front of her. She recognized him from around base. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he did here but in her defense, she had been too busy with training and class to meet many people other than her teammates.

“Probably not but it doesn’t make it less true. You don’t deserve to be here.”

“Listen fucker. I have had a rough day. I am hot, I am hungry, and I am tired. I do not need to stand here and justify myself to some dip shit who decided to share his opinion with the class. Just walk away.”

The man smirked and stepped closer to Y/N, forcing her back towards the cold beige wall as she moved to step away from him. His grimy hands reached out and stroked the girl's cheek. “I think you just need to be taught a lesson, maybe put that dirty mouth to work on something else.”

“You son of a bit-”

“Is everything alright here?” That familiar voice rings out, causing Y/N to turn her head towards the tall figure walking in her direction.

“Yeah man, me and my girl were just chatting.” The shorter man, Y/N had mentally nicknamed douchebag said.

“Funny. Doesn’t look like Frost is in the mood to chat with you.” Jake walked closer, physically moving douchebags hand away from the girl. “I also heard everything you said..if you’re going to talk shit, maybe make sure you don’t have an audience. I doubt you would want admiral Simpson or captain Mitchell to find out how you treat one of your coworkers. Sounds like grounds for dismissal to me.”

At Jake's words, douchebag pales, taking another step back. “Look I’m sorry I-”

“If I ever hear you talking about my friend again, I will personally make sure you never talk again. Frost is a better pilot than most of us, hell she is a better pilot than me. Now if you ever touch her again, I will leave you so unrecognizable, your mother won’t be able to identify the body. Get the hell out of here before I show you I’m serious.” Jake growled out the words and the other man ran off. Letting out a breath, Jake turned towards the girl and calmed down. “You alright Frosty?”

“I could have handled that prick.”

Jake smirked at the girl and tilted his head. “You know, a thank you would suffice.”

Y/N sighed and looked up at Jake. “Thank you Hangman.”

“Anything for you darlin. Only I am allowed to taunt you.” He trailed his green eyes down her face, taking in every feature until he stopped at her soft lips.

“My knight in shining armor.” The girl meant to be sarcastic but the words came out in no more than a soft breath, her own gaze going to Jake’s lips. “You said I’m a better pilot than you.”

“Did I?” Jake said softly, brushing some hair out of the girl's face as the two drifted towards each other, lips almost touching until a bang of a door had them jumping away from each other.

“There you are Frosty, I’ve been looking for you all day. Let's go get lunch.” Rooster made his way over, throwing an arm around his best friend, oblivious that he just ruined the moment. “Hangman.” He nodded at the blonde and led the girl out, talking her ear off about god knows what.

Y/N couldn’t focus on a thing Rooster said as she glanced back at the man she left alone in the hall. Her eyes connected with his green ones, the look in them so intense and full of longing, she had to look away.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

“Hangman, hottie checking you out at 12 o’clock.” Coyote said, interrupting Y/N’s thoughts as the girl stared at the cold beer in her hand. The dagger squad had decided to utilize their day off with a trip to The Hard Deck. The group hadn’t been there long before practically all of the women (and some men) in the bar started giving suggestive looks to the team. Y/N really couldn’t blame them. Everyone on her team was unnaturally attractive.

“Oh trust me Coyote. I saw her. And I think the lady looks thirsty, maybe I should fix that.” Jake smirked and walked over to his admirer.

Y/N tried desperately not to stare at them but she just couldn't look away. The brunette's hand, resting on Jake's arm as she gave him a flirty smile. Y/N didn’t need to see Jake's face to know he was eating this up.

Y/N couldn’t understand why she felt a pang in her chest at seeing him flirting with someone else. It’s not much of a secret that Jake is a flirt. And it’s not like she had any sort of relationship with Jake other than friendenemies, if you can even call it that.

“Frost there is a cutie staring at you too.” Phoenix spoke up, grabbing Y/N’s attention away from Jake. The girl followed the direction Phoenix was looking in and sure enough, a tall dark haired man shot her a wink. “Go get him to buy you a drink.” Phoenix smirked and helped the girl up.

Sucking in a breath, Y/N put on her best confident smile and walked towards the man.

“Hello gorgeous. Sorry for staring, I just couldn’t look away from you.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Y/N said softly.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure, I’d like that.” Y/N gave the man a genuine smile and sat down at the bar next to him.

The conversation was pleasant enough. The man who Y/N learned was named Greg, made her laugh. But the same gnawing feeling ached within her..he was kind, funny, handsome even. But he was no Jake.

“Would you like to dance Y/N?” Greg smiles brightly, holding his hand out while his blue eyes sparkled under the bar lights.

“Sure.” Y/N finished off her beer and walked towards the jukebox with Greg, his hands resting on her hips while she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m a horrible dancer so this swaying is the most you’re getting out of me.” The girl laughed softly.

“I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me as long as I can hold you this close.” Greg smiled and pulled her closer to him, his eyes drifting down to her lips.

Y/N could tell Greg wanted to kiss her and maybe a part of her wanted him to. But, every urge the girl felt to make a move with Greg, she felt a more intense one to run towards Jake.

It was a stupid ache that she couldn’t shake and the most infuriating thing about it was she didn’t understand why. Most of the conversations Y/N and Jake had were them taunting each other. When did taunting turn into more for her and does Jake feel the same? She doubted it by the way he had flocked to the first pretty girl to bat her eyes at him. That thought alone made her move towards Greg and pull back from her Jake filled thoughts.

“You can kiss me Greg.” The girl said softly, looking at his lips. Greg didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned in slowly, trying to savor the moment and right as their lips were about to touch, that familiar honeyed voice Y/N has grown to crave, rang out next to her.

“Frosty.”

Y/N pulled back slowly, turning towards Jake. “I’m a little busy here Hangman.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Jake said flatly, not sparing a glance at Greg. “I was just wondering if your little dance partner knew about your extremely high risk job and the ramifications of dating a pilot. Especially a pilot like you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Y/N gritted her teeth and looked up at him.

Greg looked between you both and moved his hands off your hips. “Look, you’re great Y/N. Really great, but I don't want to get involved in the middle of this.” He motioned between the two pilots. “It was nice to meet you, thank you for a fun night.” He kissed her cheek and walked off.

“What the hell was that?!” Y/N turned to Jake, anger burning in her eyes.

“I was just trying to stop you from making a mistake, Frosty. You can do better than that guy.”

“You don’t know a thing about him. God, that’s not even an opinion for you to have! You just wanted to be an ass per usual and ruin my night. Well great fucking job Hangman, you succeeded so you can run back to your new lady friend and leave me the hell alone!” The girl stormed out the bar doors, anger coursing through her so strongly, she was shaking.

Unbeknownst to her, Jake followed her right out those doors. He wasn’t about to let her leave when she was so angry.

“Y/N.”

“Please Jake just go inside and leave me alone.” Y/N turned away from him, wiping the tears off her cheeks that were now freely flowing from her eyes.

Everything was just too much. Too much disappointment, too much heartbreak, and too much yearning for something she couldn’t have.

“Y/N.” Jake gently put his hand on her shoulder, turning the girl to face him. “I’m sorry I ruined your night darlin. That was not my intention.”

“No? Then what was your intention Jake because I do not understand.” Y/N wiped the last of her tears away and looked up into Jake’s green eyes. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“I was jealous.”

“Jealous? Jake, what are you talking about? You are the one who went to flirt with that gorgeous girl!”

“No, I didn’t. I bought her a drink, told her I appreciate her interest but it would never work out with us because I am crazy about someone else! I told her I knew another wonderful man she would like and introduced her to Bob! They are still in there talking if you don’t believe me. I wanted to talk to you! I wanted to flirt with you! And I wanted to dance with you but when I found you, some other guy was trying to kiss you and it drove me crazy!”

All the breath left Y/N when she saw the sincerity in Jake’s eyes. Jake gently cupped the girls cheek, wiping away any stray tears. “I only want you darlin, and it drives me absolutely mad. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. All I can do is think about you and it has been that way since I met you.”

“Since you met me?” The girl gave him an amused smile.

“Oh yeah.” Jake flashed her his toothy grin. “Apparently you telling me to fuck off really got me hooked on you.”

Y/N laughed and moved closer to Jake. “Well apparently your asshole ways worked on me too. I didn’t want him, I just wanted a distraction from you.”

“I’m going to kiss you now Darlin.”

“Please do Jake.”

Jake wasted no time. He pulled the girl flush against him and connected their mouths. His lips warm against hers, breathing each other in with the intensity of the kiss. At that moment, there was no such thing as enough. The couple couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t kiss hard enough. Couldn’t get enough of each other.

Soon Jake had Y/N pressed against his truck, her dress riding dangerously high up on her thigh. Jake pulled back from the kiss just enough to whisper against the girl's now puffy lips. “I love this fucking dress on you. It’s been killing me all night.”

“Good.” Y/N whispered back. “I bought it for you.”

Jake groaned and played with the hemmed edge of her red sundress. “Let me take it off.”

“Fuck, yes please.” The girl groaned and moved a hand into his hair.

Jake opened the back door to his truck and set the girl inside gently before hovering over her. He pushed the skirt up to her hips, exposing a pair of lace panties. Jake groaned when he noticed the wet spot, darkening the blue lace. “Fuck darlin, did I make you this wet?”

“Yes Jake, only you.” Y/N moaned as the man ran his finger over her clothed slit.

Jake looked down at the girl, a smirk plastered on his face. “All mine pretty girl. You’re all mine.”

“Yours.” Y/N breathed, looking into his love filled green eyes. “I’m all yours.”

Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

I'm spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about

The temperature outside was getting increasingly warmer and Y/N’s father, Iceman decided to have the dagger squad over for a pool party. The older man wanted to meet her team and more importantly, the man who had stolen his daughter's heart.

Y/N never openly told her parents about her new boyfriend but they knew her well. Especially her father. He saw the way the girl's eyes lit up whenever she talked about a certain pilot and he couldn’t help but want to know more.

The devastating reality was that he didn’t have much time left. But, with what he did have, he wanted to make sure his daughter was putting her faith in the right people. Iceman was no stranger to the egos aviators could have and his little girl had worked her ass off to get where she was. She had proven herself to be more than just her last name. He had to make sure that this Hangman had no intention of hurting her. The other part of him was just genuinely curious. He had never seen her act this way about a boyfriend before.

For a short time when Y/N was growing up, Iceman thought maybe her childhood friend Bradley Bradshaw could be the one. He changed his mind when he saw that the two were better in a platonic way. Sometimes even referring to each other as brother and sister.

“Dad, can I get you another drink?” Y/N walked outside to where Iceman was sitting with Rooster.

“No, I’m alright sweetheart.” He smiled softly at his daughter.

“If you’re offering, I’ll take another beer.” Rooster spoke up.

“I don’t remember offering you one Roos but fine. Because I’m in a good mood.” She teased and walked back to the kitchen to grab herself and Rooster a drink.

Iceman turned to Rooster after he made sure Y/N had left. “Tell me about this Hangman I keep hearing about.”

“Hangman? Why do you want to know about him?” Rooster finished off the rest of his current beer and looked at Iceman “Wait..Hangman is Frosty’s mystery man?”

“It seems that way. I can tell by the way she talks about him.”

“I should have seen that coming with the way those two teased each other.” Rooster leaned back in his chair and sighed. “If you asked me a few months ago I would tell you he was the worst. But he has changed. Especially around her. I thought it was just because they had been flying together more. Obviously that's not it.” Rooster pushed the aviators up his nose. “He has an ego, but, he’s kinda like young Mav from the stories you’ve told me. He likes to push limits and always be the best but he is reliable at the end of the day, if they really are together, he’d do anything for her. I know he would. You know I love Frosty and if I thought he’d hurt her, well I’d be trying to drown him in the pool when he gets here.”

“I might have just let you.” Iceman smiled slightly, sipping his iced tea.

“Frosty can handle herself and I trust Hangman with her. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Glad to hear what?” Y/N walked over, claiming one of the empty chairs at the table while she handed Rooster his beer.

“Nothing sweetheart.” Ice smiled and looked towards the kitchen. “Does your mother need any help?”

“Nope, Phoenix and Bob have taken over the kitchen with her. Mom also said and I quote. “If your father tries to get up and help me instead of relaxing, I will wack him on the head.” I think it’s safe to assume she wants you to stay sitting today.”

Iceman laughed softly and nodded. “I love that woman.”

“I know you do, dad.” Y/N smiled and put her hand over his, occasionally glancing towards the front door, waiting for that familiar blonde to show up.

“Looking for someone?” Rooster smirked and nudged Y/N’s arm.

“No..why are you both being weird?”

“No reason.” Rooster smirked again and sipped his beer, sharing a glance with the older man.

“Okay you are being very cryptic today Roos. It’s weird. Knock it off..” Y/N trailed off when she heard the sweet sound of that southern draw she loved so much. “Hangman is here.” She stood quickly and walked to greet him. She thought she was being sneaky with her emotions, but her father did not miss the sparkle of absolute love in her eyes.

All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from all this (ah, ha, ha, ha)

“You’re here.” Y/N smiled, walking into the living room where Jake stood with her mother.

“Course I am Frost. I’d never say no to a party and I’m very eager to meet your parents.” He smiled at Y/N and turned to her mother “I brought these for you mam, as a thank you for having me in your home.” He held up the small bouquet of flowers he had meticulously picked out before coming over.

“Oh that is so sweet! Thank you Jake. Please make yourself at home and let me know if you need anything.” She started walking towards the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase but turned back to her daughter before reaching the room. ‘I like him’ she mouthed, causing Y/N to blush and turn back to the man in front of her.

“So you are on a first name basis with my mom already. Impressive.”

“What can I say? Ladies find me charming. And Sarah is a peach.” He flashed her a grin and brushed his hand against hers. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too Jake. Thank you for coming..I mean it.”

“Honey you know I wouldn’t miss this, it’s important to you.” He took her hand and kissed it gently. “I will admit, I am slightly nervous to meet your father.”

“Oh yeah? That’s adorable.” She smirked up at him.

“I am adorable, it’s a known fact.” Jake smirked and pinched her hip with his free hand. “So are you going to show me your childhood bedroom? I am excited to see it..do you have boy band posters?”

“Shut up Jake.” She laughed softly. “Rooster is outback with my dad. I think Coyote made his way out there too. I’ll grab you a beer and we can go out there?”

“Sounds perfect pretty girl.” He kissed her cheek gently and walked outback with her after stopping to get him a beverage.

“Dad this is Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman. He’s a part of my squad and…my boyfriend.” She cleared her throat and looked around at everyone who had joined them outside.

“Boyfriend? Since when?!” Phoenix whispered to Bob who shrugged behind them.

“Since our night at The Hard Deck Phoenix. You didn’t notice?” He whispered back.

“But that was almost a month ago…” She mumbled.

“It’s an honor to meet you sir.” Jake ignored his friends surprise and held his hand out with a smile.

“You as well son. I have heard some incredible things about you.” Iceman took his hand and shook it, motioning to an empty chair with his other hand.

“Are you bragging about me darlin?” Jake grinned and looked at Y/N, taking a seat at the table.

“Absolutely not, your ego does not need to get any bigger.” Y/N playfully scoffed and took her own seat by him.

“It’s cute that you’re impressed by me. I’m impressed by you too.” He grinned and took her hand, kissing it softly.

Iceman watched the way Jake held her hand so tenderly and looked at Y/N with the same love sick expression the girl had shown for him earlier. It was clear to her father from that moment he truly had nothing to worry about. Jake Seresin was in love with his daughter and she was in love with him.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

The bright sun had faded into warm hues of orange and pink, reflecting off the crisp blue pool water as Y/N leaned against Jake. The man’s hand played with her fingers as he held her close, absolutely at peace.

“Jake?”

“Yes baby?”

“Are you happy?” The girl turned in his arms gently, looking into his gorgeous green eyes.

“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m happy. I have you.” He brought a hand up and cupped her cheek gently. “Why are you asking?”

“I don’t know. This all just feels too good to be true. Today was great and I’m slightly convinced this is a dream. It could be all the alcohol though.”

Jake let out a soft chuckle and pinched the girl's hip, causing her to pout at him. “Not a dream darlin. This is real.” He leaned his head down and kissed her once. “This is all I have wanted for years. Even when we were stationed apart. I craved you. I knew even then that I wanted you to be mine. I plan on putting a ring on this finger someday Y/N. That is how crazy I am about you.” He took her hand again and kissed her ring finger.

“You’re going to make me cry.” Y/N laughed softly and leaned her head on his.

Jake chuckled and kissed the girl’s hand once more. “One day. I promise.”

“One day.” Y/N smiled widely and kissed both of Jake’s cheeks. “I should go see if my mom needs help with the dishes.” Y/N slowly moved out of Jake's arms. “Do you want anything else to drink?”

“I’m alright darlin.” He smiled and kissed her hand before letting her go, unaware of Iceman making his way over.

“I’ve never seen her this happy before.” Iceman said and took a seat next to Jake. “Thank you for making her smile like that. It makes me feel better knowing she will have you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for loving her. I couldn’t help it even if I wanted to. She is the most wonderful woman I have ever met.”

Iceman smiled and patted Jake’s arm. “She is wonderful. But you still chose to be there for her every day. It means a lot to me and my wife. You are exactly the type of man I was hoping she would end up with.” Iceman sighed softly. “I don’t have much time left son. I know my family will be devastated which breaks my heart more than I can express, but when it comes to Y/N, I am worried. She shuts down. She pushes people away when she needs them most, she has done it since she was a child. I’m not sure if it makes her feel protected or if she thinks she needs to heal alone but I don't want that for her. Do not let her push you away. She needs you, and son, I can tell you need her too. Promise me?”

Jake turned to Iceman and swallowed down his emotion, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I promise sir.”

“Thank you. You’re a good man Jake Seresin.” Iceman smiled and patted his shoulder again.

“I-I know this is a bit premature but I fully intend on marrying your daughter one day sir. Maybe I am a bit old fashioned but I think it is respectable to get your permission first.”

“You have it son.” Iceman smiled warmly and stood slowly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, all this talk about love has me missing my wife.” The older man made his way inside to find his wife as Jake watched, hoping one day this would be him and Y/N.

Flashback when you met me

Your buzzcut and my hair bleached

Even in my worst times

You could see the best of me

Flashback to my mistakes

My rebounds, my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies

You saw the truth in me

And I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My one and only, my lifeline

I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My hands shake, I can't explain this ah, ha, ha, ha

Y/N has barely spoken a word since she got the news. Now, standing next to her mother and siblings, staring at her fathers casket, she feels like she may never speak again. The air around them holds solemn tension as people mourn. Tears fall but it’s nothing but quiet for the man being laid to rest.

As the flag is being folded and the trumpets are playing, Y/N absentmindedly pinches her arm, desperately trying to wake up from this nightmare. She had just talked to her father last night, they made plans. The reality of him being gone just seemed too unreal for Y/N to fathom.

It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was remotely fair and it drove Y/N crazy. Her father was one of the most caring and wonderful people she had ever had the luck of knowing. He didn’t deserve this.

Tears fell down her cheeks and Y/N let them flow freely. The girl felt numb and something as simple as wiping them away felt impossible. She felt heavy, wondering if the crowd around her could tell she was dying inside.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” The words broke through the surface of her numbness, bringing the girl back to the present as she looked up to Maverick standing in front of her.

“Sorry..I’m sorry.” She said softly and wiped her tears quickly.

“Don’t apologize. You just lost your father..I know how that feels and if you need anything, you know you can talk to me.” Maverick rubbed the girl's arm gently.

“Thank you Uncle Mav. I’m going to be okay..they need me to be.” She breathed out, looking towards her crying mother.

“Y/N, you do not need to be strong for anyone right now.”

“I’m fine Mav.” She snapped and sighed in regret. “I’m sorry..”

“It’s okay sweetheart.” Mav hugged her softly, only letting go when he noticed Jake and Bradley approaching. The tallest of the pair pulled Y/N into his arms tightly, whispering comforting things into her hairline while the girl stayed stiff, drifting back into the heavy waters.

Jake noticed almost immediately and patted Bradley’s shoulder. “Can you give us a minute Rooster?”

Bradley nodded slowly and let the girl go. “I’m going to check on your mom but if you need me, just yell.” He kissed her head and led Mav over to the girl's family.

Jake cupped the girl's face gently, wiping away some stray tears. “Hi baby”

Y/N looked up at Jake, bottom lip wobbling as she felt overwhelming tears coming. “Will you take me home? Please?”

“Of course baby. Whatever you need.”

“I can’t have what I need.” The girl whispered out, her gaze floating towards the casket once again.

Days passed in a blur and Y/N was merely surviving.

She stuck to her routine. Eat, when she could stomach it. Sleep, when she could turn her mind off. Work, when she wasn’t grounded, which was all the time lately. People were worried about her. From Admiral Simpson, to Maverick, to the dagger squad, they did not want the girl in the air.

The person who was most worried, of course, was Jake. He could see her pulling away, closing herself off and trying to heal on her own just like Iceman had warned him would happen.

He had been staying at the girl's place for over a week just to keep an eye on her. Jake didn’t push her at first. He gave her some time to digest everything while he watched from the distance, making sure she didn’t drift too far into herself. But he saw her getting pulled under the surface of those internal waves. He could see her drowning. And enough was enough.

“Frosty, darlin, I made your favorite for dinner.” Jake called out while walking towards the living room where the girl was seated on the couch.

“I’m not hungry Jake.”

“You haven’t eaten anything all day Y/N. Just come take a few bites. I won’t be offended if you don’t finish it all. I do have to warn you though, I am an excellent cook.” He sat on the couch by her and put a hand on her knee gently.

“I said I’m not hungry!” Y/N snapped and stood quickly, his hand falling from her knee.

“Y/N..I’m just trying to help.”

“Well I don’t need your help Jake. I am a grown woman and I can take care of myself. Just go home. Please!”

“No.” Jake said quickly and stood.

“No? This is my apartment!”

“I’m well aware Y/N but I am not leaving you like this. I am not letting you push me away because you think that is easier. I promised your father I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“You w-what?” Y/N looked up at Jake, tears building up in her sore eyes.

“He made me promise because he knew you well. I told him I would not let you self-destruct and I am keeping that promise.”

“Well you’re off the hook now, he’s dead so he’ll never know! “

“God damnit Y/N.” Jake stepped closer to her and took both her hands in his. “Even if I didn’t make that promise I would still be here taking care of you.”

“Why?”

“Why? Why am I here for you? Because I love you Y/N! I want to be here for you. I want to hold you and take care of you. I want to bring you back to yourself because this is not you. You are mourning and that is understandable but you are barely living right now. You haven’t called your mom back in days. Your mother who you used to talk to every damn day. Fuck, Y/n, you have Cyclone worried that is how messed up you are right now. So please, if you can’t do this for yourself, do it for everyone who loves you including your dad because I know he is watching over you. Let me help you heal.”

“I miss him.” Y/N broke down in sobs, gripping the man's shirt for support.

“I know sweetheart. I know.” He pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Y/N.” He kissed her head gently.

“I love you so much Jake.” She clung to him as he let her sob. Body shaking, gut wrenching sobs. But Jake never let go.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

Three months later and Y/N was feeling like her old self again. She had reconnected with her teammates, spent time with her family, and was even flying again. The pain of losing her father had not left completely. The absence of him was still very much felt, but the pain wasn’t crippling anymore. She had a life to live and she knew Iceman would want her to make the most of it.

Tonight in particular was special. The dagger squad was currently occupying most of The Hard Deck, celebrating a successful mission. Music was loud, drinks were flowing, and the company was comforting.

Y/N felt at home among her found family. She sang along with Rooster when he played Great Balls of Fire, like he always does. She danced with Bob, beat Javy at pool with Phoenix, and was smiling so much, her face hurt.

After all of the sorrow and heartbreak, this was what she needed. By the end of the night, the girl was feeling lighter than she had in months. Jake noticed it too. He could see the sparkle in her eyes, the light in her smile. It pulled on his heart, just making him fall more hopelessly in love with her.

“You’re staring at me honey. It’s getting weird now.” Y/N approached Jake and handed him a fresh beer.

“I can’t help myself darlin. You’re stunning.” He put a hand on her lower back and pulled her to him.

“My, my Hangman. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were smitten.”

“Baby I am hopeless when it comes to you. Head over heels, willing to do some embarrassing stuff to prove my love to you kind of hopeless.”

The girl tipped her head back and laughed softly, the sound music to Jake’s ears. “What kind of embarrassing stuff?”

“We’ll have to find out another day.” Jake kissed her nose.

Y/N laughed again, leaning into him. “I love you Jake.”

“I love you too Y/N.” He kissed her once and leaned his head on hers, pulling the girl ever closer than before.

Y/N looked up at him, eyes bright and smile wide. “You still want to marry me?”

“One day” Jake smiled down at the girl, wrapping his arms around her.

“One day.” Y/N smiled up at him, completely oblivious to the diamond ring burning a hole in Jake’s pocket.

There is an indentation in the shape of you

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

You made your mark on me, golden tattoo

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

#jake seresin x kazansky!reader #jake seresin x pilot!reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader smut #jake #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x reader fluff #hangman x reader angst #jake seresin x reader fluff #jake seresin x reader angst #jake seresin x female!reader #top gun 2 #top gun maverick #iceman top gun

559 notes · View notes

wasabidottie · 6 months

Note

Because you asked for requests. Maybe building gingerbread houses with Jess Mariano? xo

Frosting (Jess Mariano)

a/n: anon!!!!!<3 thank you sm for this request! sorry for how long it took, hope you like it :) and to anyone else with requests ill get to them asap :))

The aroma of gingerbread filled the cozy apartment as you an your boyfriend, Jess Mariano, gathered around the kitchen island, ready to embark on the annual tradition of building gingerbread houses. The table was cluttered with an assortment of candies, icing bags, and, of course, pre-baked gingerbread pieces.

Jess eyed the array of candies with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, half of these are gonna end up in my stomach, right?"

You chuckled, playfully swatting his arm. "Behave, Mariano. We need those for the gingerbread house."

As you both started assembling the houses, the competitive spirit ignited. Jess, surprisingly meticulous with the task, scrutinized the angles of the gingerbread walls, determined to make his house a structural masterpiece.

"This has to be stable," he muttered to himself, holding two pieces together as if inspecting a construction project.

On the other hand, you were more focused on the decorative aspect. Your house was adorned with colorful candies, creating a vibrant, sugary landscape.

"Are you going for a candy wonderland or a gingerbread fortress?" Jess quirked an eyebrow, eying your creation.

You grinned. "Why not both? It's called creativity, Jess."

The banter continued as you both decorated your respective houses. Jess's concentration was evident, but you couldn't resist the occasional candy theft – a sneaky swipe here and there, which he pretended not to notice.

Eventually, the clash of creative visions led to a playful argument about the perfect gingerbread house aesthetic.

"It's like a battle between tradition and chaos," Jess remarked, eyeing your candy-covered masterpiece with a raised eyebrow.

"Tradition with a touch of fun," you countered, adding a gumdrop turret to the roof.

As the gingerbread houses neared completion, Jess couldn't resist any longer. He grabbed a handful of candies and strategically placed them on your creation, breaking into a sly grin.

You gasped in mock horror. "Sabotage! This is war!"

The playful argument escalated into a candy fight, both of you laughing as you exchanged sweet artillery. The kitchen was now a mess of frosting and candies, but it was a mess filled with laughter and shared moments.

Finally, you both stood back, surveying the sugary battlefield. Jess had a triumphant grin, a candy cane sword in hand.

"I win," he declared, a victorious glint in his eyes.

You shook your head, smiling. "Fine, fine. You win this round, but only because I let you."

The banter paused, and Jess looked at you, his eyes softening. Without saying a word, he leaned in and kissed you – a sweet, lingering moment that went beyond the playful argument.

When he pulled away, he wiped a bit of frosting from the corner of your lip. "You had something there."

You smirked, knowing the real reason behind the kiss. "Uh-huh, sure. It was just the frosting."

Jess chuckled, pulling you into a tight hug. "Whatever you say, but don't blame me if I need to inspect for stray candy again."

As you both shared a laugh, the gingerbread houses stood as sweet testaments to a day filled with laughter, love, and a bit of delicious chaos.

#jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano imagine #jess x reader #jess mariano #gilmore girls x reader #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls

147 notes · View notes

musclesandhammering · 2 months

Text

There’s zero chance Loki and Hela having so many similarities is just a coincidence. And even though we’re most definitely never getting a full explanation for it, I’m so curious as to what you guys believe the reason is. Do you think:

a.) Loki’s a shapeshifter who can see people’s memories when he touches them. So when Odin picked him up as a baby, he saw Hela in Odin’s mind and shifted himself to resemble her.

b.) Loki and Hela have the same biological mother.

c.) Hela is Loki’s biological mother.

d.) Odin changed Loki to look like Hela when he first held him, because he missed her.

e.) Hela’s biological mother is jotun, and she and Loki both have black hair/pale skin/green aesthetic/etc because that’s just what frost giants look like when they take an asgardian form.

f.) Hela and Loki are both adopted, both children of Laufey. Odin took Hela centuries earlier, then when he realised Laufey’d had another child, he took Loki too.

**I’ve listed these in order from the ones I find most likely to least likely, if you’re curious. Tell me which headcanon you prefer, I wanna see.

#e & f are just sorta crack theories to me I don’t think they would ever actually be canon #and c is a cool theory that’s been circulating around fandom that I love #but I don’t think the mechanics actually work #like hela seemed to be gone before loki was born so I don’t think those timelines would match up #if I had to pick one of these to be true I would confidently say b #I’m like 85% sure loki and hela are half siblings with the same bio mom #and the fact that Odin and Laufey had kids by the same woman would also add to their feud probably idk #hela #loki #Odin #thor ragnarok #loki meta #hela meta #hela odinsdottir #what if season 2 #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #mcu #thor movies

79 notes · View notes

randoimago · 3 months

Note

Hello! How are you doing? Could I request Ann, Yusuke, and Akira with an s/o that loves to make plushies?

Fandom: Persona 5

Character(s): Ann, Yusuke, Joker

Note(s): S/O is just a distant relative of Kanji (that's a joke, there's no P4 references in here)

Ann

You can bet that she absolutely loves the plushies you make. She's not really the type to have a million and one of them, but she still enjoys them a lot.

Ann would suggest you making matching plushies to hang on a keychain so you both can have one. She thinks it's a cute way to match as a couple without being over-the-top.

She likes to watch you make plushies too. Even if it's a long process, she likes to see how you do it. She doubts she'd be as skilled as you if she ever tried, but she has gotten to the point where she knows the next step and can hand you things to help out.

Joker

With the money he makes from Mementos/Palaces, you can bet that he is going to be happy to help buy you supplies for plushie making. Might jokingly mention that you should make Phantom Thief related ones and sell them online.

He would like to help you out with your plushie making sometime if you let him (it increases his kindness stat). He's proud of any plushie he makes, even if it doesn't look great, he'll still happily put it on his shelf in his room.

Speaking of, any plushie you give him goes on the shelves too. He'll rotate them out too so he can view them all. I can see him being elated if you decided to make Jack Frost or Jack o Lantern (or any of those personas). Becomes really excited if you make him an Arsene plushie.

Yusuke

The only plushie he's ever had growing up was one his mother had gotten him. He had to throw it away when he got older in Madarame's shack, but he does miss it. So of course, he is happy to receive any and all plushies that you give him.

While making plushies isn't really close to the art he makes, he still finds it fascinating to watch you. If you let him, then he'd gladly pick out some patterns, colors, and clothes like it's build-a-bear. He has an aesthetic eye and loves to watch you create with what he picked out.

Going back to the first headcanon for Yusuke, he'd be unbelievably touched if you tried to recreate the plushie he had growing up. He definitely doesn't expect it to be exact since it was a long time ago and he doesn't really have any pictures or a perfect memory. But it really is the thought that counts.

#no i didn't accidentally use the wrong divider #it's for the joke of “no p4 references here”#persona 5 x reader #yusuke x reader #ann x reader #ann takamaki x reader #yusuke kitagawa x reader #akira kurusu x reader #ren amamiya x reader

78 notes · View notes

anghraine · 1 year

Text

It's always interesting (to me) to go back to Tolkien's descriptions of hairstyles among some of the women of LOTR.

Here is the description of Galadriel's gift to Gimli:

Then the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, and cut off three golden hairs, and laid them in Gimli's hand.

Here is the canonical description of Arwen's hair:

The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost ... Above her brow her head was covered with a cap of silver lace netted with small gems, glittering white; but her soft grey raiment had no ornament save a girdle of leaves wrought in silver.

Here is the explanation of Gilraen's name:

The meaning of Gilraen as a woman's name is not in doubt. It meant 'one adorned with a tressure set with small gems in its network,' such as the tressure of Arwen ... The women of the Eldar were accustomed to wear such tressures ... Names such as Gilraen, and others of similar meaning, would thus be likely to become first names given to maid-children of the kindred of the "Lords of the Dúnedain". The element raen was the Sindarin form of Q. raina 'netted, enlaced'.

Personally, I think it's interesting that it's Éowyn, a shieldmaiden from a distinctly different culture, who has the loose long hair that fandom often goes for. But I also think the canon aesthetic for Elvish women and those akin to them is really intriguing and could be quite beautiful, but contemporary fandom preferences have definitely obscured Tolkien's affection for braids and pretty hairnets.

#female elves/peredhil/dúnedain in lucrezia coiffures WHEN #anghraine babbles #long post #legendarium blogging #legendarium fanwank #hair #it is genuinely interesting to see what fandom does and does not care about when it comes to Hair Fidelity #this is such a different look from what we usually see!#galadriel #arwen undómiel #gilraen

329 notes · View notes

darknesseddiem · 2 months

Text

𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐳: 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝟔𝟔

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: A fleeting glimpse into your life in Paris reveals a tapestry woven with the threads of contentment. Amidst the quaint charm of your bustling bakery, you found solace in the artistry of your craft and the warmth of the friendships you cultivated. Yet, like an unyielding specter, the echoes of your past refuse to fade into obscurity.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: +18 MDNI, mentions of sad past, descriptions of panic attack, abusive husband (not with Reader), child loss, mentions of violence, let me know if I missed one

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5,6K

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

As you stepped out onto the cobblestone streets of Paris, the cold morning air greeted you like an old friend, its crisp touch sending shivers down your spine. The gentle breeze danced around you, carrying with it the delicate flakes of snow that twirled and pirouetted before gently settling on the ground. Each flake seemed to have a life of its own, weaving intricate patterns as they landed, transforming the city into a winter wonderland.

The frost had painted everything in sight with its delicate touch, leaving a shimmering coat on the streets and a soft blanket on the rooftops of cars parked along the curb. The world around you was draped in white, as if nature had decided to cast a spell of serenity over the bustling city.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of pastries from nearby bakeries. It was a tantalizing combination that teased your senses and stirred a pang of hunger in your stomach. Regret gnawed at you for not indulging in breakfast earlier, but there was a certain magic in the air that distracted you from your hunger.

Despite the chill in the air, there was a warmth in the atmosphere that came from the cozy cafes and bistros lining the streets. The soft glow of their lights spilled out onto the snow-covered sidewalks, inviting you to step inside and escape the cold. It was a scene straight out of a postcard, a picturesque moment frozen in time.

As you hurried through the streets of Paris, the weight of responsibility hung heavy on your shoulders. It wasn't your fault that the alarm clock had betrayed you, rudely jolting you awake much later than intended. In the frantic scramble to make it to the bakery on time, breakfast had become an afterthought, sacrificed in the race against the clock.

Despite the early hour, Paris was alive with a quiet energy, as if it were slowly awakening from its slumber. The faint sound of footsteps echoed in the distance, accompanied by the occasional clang of a passing tram. It was a peaceful scene, a moment of stillness before the city burst into life with the hustle and bustle of the day.

As you continued your morning stroll through the quiet streets of Paris, the familiar sounds of bicycle bells and the whirring of wheels filled the air, signaling the arrival of the teenage boys on their delivery rounds. With deft skill, they navigated the narrow streets, balancing baskets filled with fresh milk, warm bread, and delectable cakes destined for those who had no time to prepare their own breakfast.

The sight brought a smile to your lips as you watched them zip past, their youthful energy adding a touch of vibrancy to the serene morning scene. It was a reminder of the simple joys of everyday life in Paris, where tradition and modernity seamlessly coexisted, shaping the rhythm of the city.

A few more minutes of leisurely walking brought you closer to your destination, and soon the beautiful facade of your bakery came into view, standing out amidst the row of charming buildings with its inviting allure.

As you approached your bakery, known as "The Raven's Nest," your heart swelled with pride and affection. The building stood proudly amidst the Parisian streets, a striking monument to your passion for baking and your love of the Gothic aesthetic.

The neoclassical facade had been transformed into a dramatic display of Gothic architecture, with dark gray stone walls rising high, adorned with intricate carvings of ravens and other macabre motifs. Instead of gold and silver, the decorations gleamed with accents of crimson red and midnight black, casting an aura of mystery and allure.

Gone were the delicate pink flowers; in their place were arrangements of deep red roses and black dahlias, their petals adding a touch of romanticism to the Gothic ambiance. The upstairs balconies were adorned with wrought iron railings, their designs reminiscent of Gothic cathedrals, adding to the dramatic silhouette of the building.

The large panes and windows remained, but now they were framed by heavy velvet curtains, allowing only slivers of light to filter through, adding to the mysterious atmosphere within. Outside, the blue and white striped canvas awnings had been replaced with elegant black ones, providing shade to the sidewalk and creating a sense of intimacy for customers who chose to linger outside.

As you gazed upon the transformed facade of your bakery, a sense of awe washed over you. It was more than just a place of business; it was a reflection of your personality and your deepest desires. The Raven's Nest had become a sanctuary for different people who longed for a place in the world, a place where they could indulge in decadent pastries and rich, dark coffee while surrounded by the beauty of the macabre.

You noticed a familiar figure standing patiently outside, his silhouette softened by the early morning light. Antoine, the sweet old man who had become not only a loyal customer but also a cherished friend, was already eagerly awaiting the opening of the bakery.

Your heart swelled with gratitude as you recalled the countless acts of kindness Antoine had bestowed upon you since the day you arrived in Paris, a stranger in a foreign city. It was he who had taken you under his wing, offering you shelter, sustenance, and employment at the factory he managed, when you had nowhere else to turn. His generosity and unwavering support had provided you with the stability and encouragement you needed to pursue your dream of owning a bakery.

From the humble beginnings of selling homemade pastries from your tiny apartment to the triumphant moment of purchasing the building that now housed The Raven's Nest, Antoine had been there every step of the way, cheering you on with his gentle smile and wise words of encouragement.

But it was not just his material support that had made Antoine invaluable to you; it was his unwavering belief in your abilities and his boundless faith in your dreams that had truly touched your heart. He had seen potential in you when you could barely see it in yourself, and his steadfast presence had been a guiding light through the darkest of times.

With a soft smile gracing your lips, you approached Antoine, the jangle of your keys punctuating the quiet morning air. His presence, steadfast and comforting, never failed to bring a sense of warmth to your heart.

"I hope you didn't wait too long for me," you greeted him, the concern evident in your voice.

Antoine turned towards you, his eyes twinkling with affection as his mustache arched gracefully with his smile. "My dear, the anticipation only makes the coffee taste sweeter," he replied, his voice carrying the gentle lilt of a cherished friend.

His words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves. With a grateful nod, you took a moment to admire the way the morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the polished wooden floors.

"Lucky for you, you won't have to wait a whole day," you remarked playfully, gesturing towards the inviting doors. With practiced ease, you slipped into your apron, the familiar weight grounding you in the rhythm of the day.

As you set about your tasks, Antoine settled into his favorite corner, the morning newspaper cradled in his hands like an old friend. His presence brought a sense of calm to the bustling kitchen, his unwavering support a beacon of reassurance in the midst of the morning rush.

"Do you need help, ma chérie?" he offered, his tone filled with genuine concern.

You shook your head with a grateful smile, the warmth of his fatherly concern washing over you like a comforting embrace. "Not today, Monsieur," you reassured him, the sound of your voice mingling with the soft hum of the kitchen appliances. "But your coffee will be ready in just a moment."

With a contented nod, Antoine returned his attention to the newspaper, his weathered hands turning the pages with practiced ease. And as you worked side by side, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of baking pastries, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the friendship you shared with Antoine, a friendship built on kindness, mutual respect, and the simple joy of sharing a quiet moment in the heart of your treasure.

The morning light filtered through the windows as the sound of footsteps echoed through the shop, signaling the arrival of your employees and co-workers. Among them, Florence was always the first to arrive, her punctuality a testament to her dedication and reliability.

With a warm smile, you greeted Florence as she entered, her presence bringing a sense of cheer to the bustling shop. Antoine, ever the gentleman, rose from his seat and removed his gray beret, a gesture of respect for the sweet woman who had captured his heart from the moment he met her.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Antoine! Good morning, Mon Cher!" Florence exclaimed sweetly, her eyes sparkling with warmth as she addressed both of you.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle! And I've already said you can call me Antoine," he replied with a gentle smile, his voice filled with affection.

You watched the interaction with a fond smile, knowing well the bond that had formed between Antoine and Florence. Theirs was a connection that went beyond mere friendship, a deep and abiding affection that was evident to anyone who spent even a moment in their company.

As Antoine returned to his seat, a soft blush coloring his cheeks, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness for the two of them. They were, without a doubt, the sweetest and kindest people you had ever known, and they deserved every ounce of happiness that life had to offer.

Encouraging their budding romance had been an easy decision for you. After all they had been through, the trials and tribulations they had faced with unwavering grace and resilience, it was only fitting that they find solace and joy in each other's company.

As Florence turned towards the kitchen, her eyes caught sight of you standing there, quietly observing the exchange between Antoine and herself. A warm smile graced her lips, and she made her way over to you, her steps light and graceful. It was part of her daily routine, her motherly affection spilling over to envelop everyone in her path.

With a gentle embrace, she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close in her comforting hug. It was a gesture you had come to cherish, a moment of solace in the midst of the bustling bakery.

"Did you have a good night?" she inquired, her voice soft and caring. "The cold increased a little during midnight, did you remember to stay warm and cozy?"

You nodded, leaning into her touch as she stroked your hair with gentle affection. "Yeah, I was so tired that I barely noticed the cold," you replied honestly. "It was a surprise when I woke up this morning and saw all that snow."

As the two of you parted from the hug, you busied yourself with pouring Antoine's coffee, the rich aroma filling the air with warmth and comfort.

"Don’t even get me started," Florence chimed in, a playful twinkle in her eye. "I almost didn’t want to get out of bed today. You know how I love this cold weather. It’s perfect for staying at home, watching some movies while drinking hot chocolate and baking cinnamon rolls."

You couldn't help but smile at her words, the image of cozy winter days filling your mind with a sense of nostalgia and longing. Florence had a way of warming your heart with just a few simple words, her kindness and compassion shining through even on the coldest of days.

As you looked into her eyes, filled with that unique and kind essence that only she possessed, you felt a surge of gratitude wash over you. Despite everything life had thrown her way, Florence remained a beacon of light and love, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still beauty and goodness to be found.

The coffee machine chimed merrily, its cheerful melody cutting through the serene atmosphere of the bakery kitchen like a symphony conductor signaling the start of a grand performance. You turned your attention from the conversation to the machine, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you attended to its beckoning call.

"When you say ‘movies,’ you mean watching Twilight, don’t you? Everyone knows it’s kind of a rule to watch all the movies when the mood gets like this," you quipped, your tone light and playful, the sparkle in your eyes reflecting the mischief dancing within.

Florence's laughter bubbled forth like a brook in springtime, filling the air with the sweet melody of her amusement. With a twinkle in her eye, she responded, "I’m talking about the classics: Ghost, Titanic, Pretty Woman… Not these vampire films that don’t have even a third of the romance they have."

The banter between you and Florence flowed effortlessly, a playful exchange of wit and humor that added a touch of levity to the morning routine. It was a dance you had perfected over countless mornings, each step choreographed with familiarity and ease.

As you poured the steaming coffee into Antoine's mug, you marveled at the unique blend of flavors that defined his morning ritual. With a spoonful of rum and a hint of vanilla essence, it was a concoction that defied convention yet somehow managed to tantalize the taste buds with its decadent allure.

"How dare you!" you laughed, shaking your head in mock indignation as you handed the steaming cup of coffee to Antoine. “Just know that Edward Cullen is a romantic.”

“I’m sure Edward Cullen has his own charm, but not as romantic as my old friend, Frank Sinatra,” Antoine interjected with a grin, his eyes twinkling with the memories of days gone by.

And then, with a flourish, he began to sing, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience and wisdom. The lyrics of a timeless love song spilled forth from his lips, each word dripping with emotion and longing.

"Keep that breathless charm, won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you," he sang, his voice a rich tapestry of passion and sentiment.

You watched in awe as Antoine's serenade filled the kitchen, infusing the space with a sense of timeless romance.

As the conversation about Frank Sinatra's timeless romance and Edward Cullen's brooding charm reached its peak, the familiar jingle of the bakery door announced the arrival of another member of your close-knit team.

Steve Harrington, your best friend and manager, sauntered into the bakery with his characteristic flair, his brown locks impeccably styled with a generous amount of hairspray. Dressed in a polo shirt and light wash mom jeans, he exuded effortless charm and confidence, a fact that was not lost on anyone who crossed paths with him.

"Good morning, Antoine, good morning Florence, and good morning, my sweetie," Steve greeted with his usual charm, his words accompanied by a playful wink that earned him an eye-roll from you.

As Florence enveloped Steve in her warm embrace, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the easy affection between them. Steve had always been like a son to Florence, receiving the love and care that he had been deprived of from his own parents, who only seemed to remember his existence when they needed something from him or when they were in the midst of a fight.

"How was your night? Did you remember to turn on the heater? You know you get colds easily, and yesterday it was intensely cold," She asked, her concern genuine as the boy leaned into Florence's embrace.

"As soon as I saw the snow starting to fall, I turned it on," Steve reassured her, his voice warm with affection. "Robin, on the other hand, asked me to let you know that she’s not coming today. She caught a cold and is in bed."

A furrow of worry creased Florence's brow at the news, her maternal instincts kicking in immediately. "Oh, I’ll make some soup and bring it to her for lunch," she declared, her voice laced with concern.

"With this cold, we shouldn’t have that much movement, so it’s okay," you added, a reassuring smile on your lips.

But your optimism was short-lived. As the morning wore on, the bakery began to fill with customers seeking refuge from the biting cold outside. The scent of freshly baked pastries and steaming cups of coffee filled the air, drawing people in like moths to a flame.

The aroma of freshly baked croissants and brioches wafted through the air, weaving its irresistible spell over the bustling bakery. The streets of Paris hummed with the energy of the tourist season, drawing visitors from far and wide to the charming little establishment nestled on Saint-Dominique street. To them, it was more than just a bakery—it was a sanctuary of indulgence, a haven where the simple act of savoring a pastry felt like a glimpse of heaven.

Amidst the lively chatter of patrons and the tinkling of cutlery, you found yourself lost in the rhythm of your work. With practiced hands, you kneaded the dough for more delicious crepes, the anticipation of creating something truly exquisite fueling your movements.

Around you, the tables were filled with eager customers, their faces alight with excitement as they savored each delectable bite. Children jostled each other in their eagerness to catch a glimpse through the glass window that separated the kitchen from the main dining area. To them, the sight of the bustling kitchen was nothing short of magical—a glimpse behind the curtain into a world where dreams were made of sugar and flour.

As you worked, you couldn't help but admire the scene before you—the laughter of families, the animated conversations of friends, the quiet moments of solitude punctuated by the simple pleasure of a warm cup of coffee and a freshly baked treat. It was a tableau of life in all its vibrant hues, a reminder of the joy that could be found in the simplest of moments.

And as you glanced out at the sea of smiling faces, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in your heart. For in this little bakery on Saint-Dominique, amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, you had created more than just a place to enjoy a pastry—you had created a haven, a sanctuary of sweetness and light where every bite carried with it a taste of pure joy.

As the bakers worked their magic in the kitchen, their antics and playful banter added an extra layer of entertainment to the bustling atmosphere of the bakery. With flour-dusted aprons and mischievous grins, they teased the audience with little tricks and pirouettes, their movements fluid and graceful, bringing a radiant sparkle to the eyes of those present.

Customers chuckled and applauded as the bakers showcased their skills, their laughter mingling with the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked pastries. It was a scene straight out of a charming French film, where the everyday hustle and bustle of a bakery transformed into a spectacle of joy and delight.

Amidst the lively atmosphere, you couldn't help but notice a group of people dressed in expensive suits and fedora hats sitting in the corner of the bakery. Their sharp attire stood out against the backdrop of casual elegance, and their demeanor hinted at an air of mystery and intrigue.

Curiosity piqued, you observed them discreetly as you went about serving other customers. Their eyes darted around the bakery, scanning the room with a sense of purpose as if they were searching for someone or something. There was an aura of secrecy about them, a silent tension that hung in the air like a veil.

Intrigued by their presence, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this group than met the eye. With a sense of caution tinged with curiosity, you made a mental note to keep an eye on them as the morning unfolded, wondering what secrets they might hold and what role they might play in the bustling drama of the bakery.

As you replaced the macarons in the display case, your mind couldn't shake off the presence of those mysterious customers in the corner of the bakery. With a sense of unease gnawing at your insides, you decided to seek out Steve for answers.

"Hey Steve, have you seen those people around here?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual as you glanced over at the group in question.

Steve glanced in their direction, his brow furrowing in thought. "Uh, I’m not sure… Maybe they’re the buyers from the building across the street," he suggested with a shrug, his attention quickly diverted by a customer approaching the counter.

As you continued your conversation with Steve, you felt a sudden chill run down your spine. Instinctively, you looked back at the mysterious group, only to find one of the men locking eyes with you. His gaze felt like a weight upon your soul, sending shivers down your spine.

Before you could react, the man said something to the others at the table, who turned to look at you with a strange intensity. Their eyes bore into yours, and for a brief moment, you felt a sense of recognition wash over you. It was as if you knew them from somewhere, but the memory remained elusive, just beyond the reach of your consciousness.

A wave of unease washed over you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. Sensing the danger, you quickly excused yourself from the conversation with Steve and retreated to the back of the bakery, seeking solace in the familiar surroundings as you tried to compose yourself.

But the feeling of dread lingered, like a shadow cast across your thoughts. Something told you that those people were not who they appeared to be, and that their presence spelled trouble. And as you struggled to calm your racing heart, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were about to be drawn into something far more sinister than a simple bakery business.

As you retreated to the safety of the storeroom, your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears like a drum of warning. Leaning against the sturdy wooden door, you felt the cool surface against your back, grounding you in the present moment.

Your entire body trembled with fear, and cold sweat dampened your brow as you struggled to regain control of your racing thoughts. Behind closed eyelids, flashes of your painful past danced like ghosts, haunting you with memories you had long tried to bury. Tears welled up, tracing silent paths down your cheeks and onto your collar, a silent testament to the turmoil raging within.

"Pull yourself together, they're just customers, you're safe," you whispered to yourself, the words a mantra of reassurance that fell on deaf ears. The fear gripped you like a vice, squeezing the air from your lungs and leaving you gasping for breath.

With trembling hands, you took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. You couldn't afford to let your fear consume you, not now, not when there were customers to attend to and a bakery to run. Steeling yourself, you pushed away from the door and opened your eyes, determined to face whatever awaited you on the other side.

To your surprise, you found Florence standing there, her expression a mix of concern and compassion. She must have sensed your distress and followed you to the storeroom, her motherly instincts kicking in to offer comfort and support.

Without a word, she reached out and enveloped you in a warm embrace, holding you close as if to shield you from the storm raging outside. In her arms, you found solace, a sanctuary from the chaos and uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm you.

And as you buried your face in her shoulder, allowing yourself to be held by the warmth of her embrace, you felt a glimmer of hope ignite within you. With Florence by your side, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, with courage and resilience.

For in the safety of her arms, you found not only comfort but also strength—a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was always light to be found in the embrace of those who cared for you.

"Oh Mon Cher, you’re so pale, I saw you running here and I was scared thinking something had happened," Florence murmured, her voice laced with concern as she held you tightly in her arms.

Florence was more than just a coworker or a friend—she was a pillar of strength, a survivor who had endured unimaginable hardships and emerged stronger than ever. Divorced from her abusive husband after years of suffering in silence, she had found refuge and purpose within the walls of Raven's Nest.

It had been a desperate plea for a job that had brought her to your doorstep, her eyes filled with determination and resilience even in the face of adversity. She had begged for the opportunity to work, even if it meant starting from the bottom and cleaning the bathrooms.

You had taken her in without hesitation, recognizing the fire that burned within her despite the scars of her past. And as she poured her heart and soul into her work, you had watched in awe as she blossomed before your eyes, her spirit unbroken despite the trials she had endured.

But behind her warm smile and gentle demeanor lay a pain that ran deep, a wound that refused to heal. It was a pain born from the loss of her son, a sweet angel whose life had been cut short by the senseless violence of his own father.

The memory of that tragic night haunted Florence like a specter, its ghostly presence a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the cruelty of fate. She had fought tooth and nail to protect her son, but in the end, she had been powerless to save him from the hands of the man who was supposed to love and cherish them both.

As Florence held you in her arms, her embrace a lifeline in the midst of the storm, you couldn't help but feel a surge of compassion for the woman who had endured so much loss and pain. And as you stood together in the quiet sanctuary of the storeroom, surrounded by the comforting scent of flour and sugar, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, drawing strength from each other's love and resilience.

“I just… I think I've been working too much, Florence. Don’t worry, I'm fine," you murmured, seeking solace in her comforting presence.

Florence's warm embrace enveloped you like a protective shield, her maternal instincts kicking in as she held you close. "You know you can count on me for anything, right? Take good care of yourself, my girl," she whispered, her words a gentle reminder of the unwavering support and love she offered freely to all who crossed her path.

With a grateful smile, you leaned into her embrace, finding solace in the familiar comfort of her arms. In that fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and belonging that only Florence could provide.

But as quickly as the moment had come, it passed, and you reluctantly pulled away, knowing that there was work to be done and customers to attend to. With a shared glance, you and Florence returned to your respective tasks, diving back into the whirlwind of activity that filled the bakery.

Throughout the day, the bakery buzzed with a vibrant energy, the air alive with laughter and conversation. Children darted about excitedly, their faces lighting up with joy at the sight of the delectable treats on display. Tourists ventured inside, their broken French mingling with the melodic tones of the locals as they placed their orders with eager anticipation.

Meanwhile, the pastry chefs worked tirelessly behind the scenes, their hands moving with practiced precision as they crafted each confection with love and care.

The weight of the day's events hung heavy on your shoulders as you made your way home through the bustling streets of Paris. Despite the comforting glow of the streetlights and the steady stream of people passing by, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

With each glance over your shoulder, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as if unseen eyes followed your every move. You quickened your pace, the click-clack of your shoes against the pavement echoing in the night air as you navigated the labyrinthine streets of the city.

Finally, you reached the safety of your home, the familiar sight of your doorstep a welcome relief. Fumbling for your keys, you hurriedly unlocked the door, the sound of the lock clicking into place a comforting reassurance of security.

Stepping inside, you felt the tension drain from your body as you closed the door behind you. The familiar warmth and coziness of your home enveloped you like a soft blanket, easing the knots of anxiety that had formed in your stomach.

With a sigh of relief, you set about your evening routine, the familiar rituals serving as a soothing balm for your frazzled nerves. Dinner was a simple affair, hastily prepared but satisfying nonetheless. You fed Edward, your faithful feline companion, his soft purrs a comforting backdrop to the quiet of the evening.

After dinner, you indulged in a long, relaxing bath, the warm water washing away the cares of the day and leaving you feeling rejuvenated and refreshed. As you soaked in the tub, the tension slowly melted away, replaced by a sense of calm and tranquility.

After drying off and slipping into your pajamas—a worn blouse, a pair of soft panties, and cozy socks—you settled into bed, the soft embrace of the blankets cocooning you in warmth. With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes, letting the gentle rhythm of your breath lull you into a peaceful slumber, knowing that tomorrow was a new day, filled with endless possibilities.

As you prepared to settle into bed for the night, a familiar sense of unease washed over you, creeping like tendrils of fog into the corners of your mind. The sensation of danger prickled at your senses, setting your nerves on edge and sending a shiver down your spine.

Despite the comforting warmth of your cozy bedroom, a chill settled over you, wrapping you in its icy embrace. Your heart quickened its pace, pounding against your chest like a frantic drumbeat as adrenaline surged through your veins.

With a trembling hand, you reached for the bedside lamp, casting a soft glow across the room as you scanned the shadows for any sign of threat. But the darkness offered no answers, only deepening the sense of foreboding that hung heavy in the air.

Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the curtains seemed to echo with the ominous whisper of danger. Your breath caught in your throat, shallow and ragged as you struggled to calm the rising tide of panic within you.

You knew you should call the police, seek help, but fear held you captive, rendering you powerless to move. The weight of uncertainty pressed down upon you, suffocating and oppressive.

With a heavy heart and trembling limbs, you braced yourself for whatever darkness the night might bring, clinging to the flickering flame of hope that whispered softly in the recesses of your mind.

As you stood frozen in fear, your mind raced with a million thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. The sensation of danger loomed over you like a dark cloud, suffocating you with its oppressive weight.

Chills ran down your spine, sending shivers through your body as if you were caught in the grip of an icy vice. Your blood felt like it was freezing and burning simultaneously, a tumultuous storm raging within you.

Nervousness and anxiety consumed you, gnawing at your insides with relentless intensity. Every fiber of your being screamed for action, for escape, but your body remained paralyzed, held captive by fear's icy grip.

A knock on the door shattered the suffocating silence, jolting you out of your trance-like state. With trembling limbs, you made your way downstairs, each step feeling like an eternity as dread gnawed at your soul.

Approaching the peephole with hesitant fingers, you braced yourself for what lay beyond. And as you peered through the small opening, your heart plummeted into the depths of despair.

There, standing before you, was a man in a suit, his features obscured by the dim light of the night. But even in the darkness, you recognized him, his presence igniting a primal fear deep within you.

"It can't be..." you whispered to yourself, your voice barely above a breath.

Summoning every ounce of courage you had left, you slowly opened the door, your hands trembling with fear. And as you looked into the man's eyes, all the blood drained from your face, leaving you pale and trembling.

"Hello, Sunny. Did you miss me?" His voice sent shivers down your spine, a sinister whisper that echoed in the depths of your soul.

Everything had been perfect that day, until it wasn't anymore. And now, faced with the embodiment of your darkest nightmares, you knew that the horrors of the past had come back to haunt you once again.

#darknesseddiemfics #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddiemunson #dark!eddie munson #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie x reader #older!eddie munson #eddie the freak munson #inmate!eddie munson

23 notes · View notes

bliss-wily · 1 month

Note

Freezy hcs?

Frieza? Hehe I can think of a few, I’m sorry if these overlap with anyone else’s or I’ve said these before but without further ado - all of these are safe for work.

•He is very jealous if anyone gets King Cold’s attention - Cooler and Kuriza for example.

•Only he gets to make fun of his elites, sure his like for them varies and is conditional but no one else gets away with it. (Loosely based on him losing his head with Sorbet and Tagoma for ‘insulting’ Dodoria and Zarbon).

•Sheds his skin, and can maybe detach his tail. He just chooses not to because he likes giving attitude.

•Left King Cold dead not because he would interfere but because he definitely didn’t want more siblings. Cooler may not be canon but that’s more than enough for Frieza.

•Do not touch him unless you want your life to abruptly end, or at least, face some suffering.

•A terrible person (of course) but (TO AN EXTENT) he’s reasonable as a boss. Well unless you happen to be a Saiyan then that’s debatable.

•Literally cold blooded, prefers warmer climates.

•Hates when he’s not in control of a situation, and hates when he is (rarely) disciplined.

•I think he drinks wine because King Cold does, plus fits the whole sophisticated villain aesthetic, but when he was younger King Cold definitely gave him ‘wine’ in the form of sparkling grape juice.

•A very absent father but god forbid anything happens to his little brat. I don’t think he’s capable of ‘love’ in the traditional (human) sense, but let’s just say Kuriza isn’t around just as a successor as much as Frieza claims.

•I think reproduction is asexual but that might be canon for Icejin/Frost Demons?

•Was the worst as a child. The biggest brat to grace the Galaxy. I think Cooler would have been an easier child.

•Treats the universe as a massive toy box. The Frieza Force may be a legitimate business but Frieza is very much a man child.

One massive crack headcanon as a bonus:

•Fears ending up with a sibling that is his exact opposite - imagine they are the sweetest thing, is all about the environment and sustainability, and being wholesome, treating everyone as an equal, etc.

And…that’s all I have. These are a bit rubbish as I genuinely cannot think. The parenting head canons for pretty much everyone will be coming over the next few days, but this is just a space filler. Thank you for the ask.

#dbz #dragon ball #dragonball #frieza #frieza force #answered ask #I know these are a little silly #but…#I tried 😅

20 notes · View notes

briar-ffxiv · 3 months

Text

Character Associations: Briar Redfeather

Fill out 3 or more symbolic associations for each category!

(Lovely art by @calico-heart )

✧EMOTIONS/FEELINGS✧

hopeful - The world can be a better place. He knows it can. curious - There's so much to see and learn. lonely - He doesn't have to be alone forever, does he? determined - to survive, to thrive, to grow brave - fear won't stop him

✧COLORS✧

green - growth, spring coming, hope, home blue - cool water, healing magic, rain white - kiss of winter, the bright moon, the touch of frost brown - the giving earth, the ancient trees, the steady feel of his bow red - boldness, a fox, survival, blood on the ground

✧SCENTS✧

wood - beloved bow, steady staff, the safety of home iron - blade, blood, a blacksmith's hammer, rebuilding leather - the creak of armour, the feel of a saddle under him wool - his sheep, home, the comfort of warmth around him patchouli - the forest, the rain, the comfort of a familiar person

✧OBJECTS✧

bow - a steady, comforting weight in his hand, a connection to the father he never knew cloak - his mother's. A reminder that he was once loved and that she's with him still stave - he is both a shepherd and a wanderer. He'll keep those with him as safe as he can. satchel - it has what he needs. It is security no matter what happens. journal - memories kept safe, special moments preserved

✧BODY LANGUAGE✧

restless hands - nervous, but hopeful, afraid to mess things up tilted head - a lack of understanding, but a craving to know bitten lip - so many things to say but unsure of the words furrowed brow - he's trying very hard to figure this out gentle touch - he's there and he wants to help if he can

✧AESTHETICS✧

forest - beautiful, but dangerous, full of green growing things but also predators unicorn - delicate and beautiful, pure and fierce, unlikely defender briar rose - a wild flower, beautiful but there are thorns, tougher than first appearances bare feet - humble, giving, connected with the earth red hair -hidden fire, strong spirit, willful and a bit of temper lamb - innocence, sacrifice, gentleness, forgiveness

Tagged by: @calico-heart - thank you! <3

Tagging: @shadesofblades @midnightmagicks @aidoneus-forgeron @starsworn @vythanis @soulshards-ffxiv @prettygayway @naejlas-axe @scholarlostintime @cantspelldragoonwithoutgoon @miqomischief @thefrostflower @ythealleycat @spotofmummery @ainyan @actualanxiousswampwitch @fluffyscholar and anyone else that wants to do it! <3

#answers #ask briar #character: briar redfeather

23 notes · View notes

daemonhxckergrrl · 11 months

Text

thinking about being able to swap parts of your casing for function (eg reinforced plating) and aesthetics (eg translucent and frosted plastics). going to the mod shop to pick up some fun options for date night, or to pick up an engraved piece you've been waiting on. maybe you want a soft touch finish, or something extra rugged. limitless options !!!

#daemon.md #gender #girlposting

92 notes · View notes

ayzrules-art · 3 months

Text

a lil intro for moon-and-seraph's words into potions event this march! definitely check it out if you can; they've put so much work into making such a cute, motivating challenge for us!

WILT AND BLOOM .

GENRE・Fantasy (specifically, second world urban fantasy) WARNINGS・Body horror and plant-related body horror, mild gore, physical/emotional abuse, implied/fade-to-black sexual abuse, violence, torture, nonconsensual experimentation, abductions/kidnapping.

SUMMARY・Sworn to serve the Blooming Court and its fickle blossom-queen, Alejandro has resigned himself to an eternity ensnared in the treachery of fae lords and their patronage contracts—binding agreements drawn in blood, and in the flowers that sprout from his bones each spring. But everything changes when he rescues a girl cursed to die as a star.

First, Alejandro must accept the help of a traitor. Then, the manhunt to bring in a heart-eating Oathbreaker wreaks havoc on the centennial Ascendancy, uprooting all his attempts to save Genevieve. To make matters worse, the embers of an ancient war are flaring back to life: the Blooming Queen and her Withering half-sister have been battling for centuries, the magic of the land sickens with the pollutants of the modern age, and investigating the curse reveals a deadly truth that leads to more questions than answers.

As Genevieve grows weaker, it all comes down to Alejandro to put an end to a battle between the forces of life and death and wilt and bloom—a battle that may just be the end of the world as he knows it.

[aesthetics + court info under the cut]

COLOR PALETTE .

The Blooming Queen’s hair as it is when the story starts: a rotting, brown-sweetened gold, like a bruised persimmon, pale orange undertones mottled with the hues of overripe peach flesh.

All the reds of an autumn forest, but especially the deep, bloody reds that certain trees produce—crimson with a cool tinge to it, a violet-indigo like shadows blooming at twilight.

The dry, wilted brown of fallen leaves; the papery chestnut of dying grass; the goldenrod that adorns fields in sways and swirls until first frost.

Dusk-light that pours like honey, a sighed warmth that pools into all the places where you have gone hollow.

The depthless dark of the Withering Queen’s eyes, like earth black with everything once-bloomed and dying; the burnished gleam of the wilt-prince’s eyes, dark like his mother’s until the light hits right. Then, they’re veined in the softness of mercy.

The orange ember-brilliance of Tselvya’s flames, of Genevieve’s hair, of chrysanthemums and marigolds throwing flamboyant blooms into the slow subside of midsummer sunshine.

THE BLOOMING COURT .

Butterflies and moths and beetles have domain over this land, where the flowers are bright and the berries overripe, sweet and heady and repugnant. The Blooming Queen dotes upon them, and they grow larger than they have any right to be.

The fae sworn to the blossom-queen adorn themselves in red, red jewels and red flowers and red life, carnage bloodied down the tips of sharp teeth and talon-pointed nails. They pluck the eyeballs out of freshly slaughtered game and feast on fruit bruised to the point of bursting, and all the flowers they touch bloom big and bright and radiant, incandescent—almost frighteningly alive.

Death will always be much too slow to come, here where life rots to the very core.

THE WITHERING THRONE .

The wilt-queen rules from a throne of bones and moonflowers, and her flesh is so brittle that she appears to be no more than a dead body propped up in a borrowed imitation of life. A single touch of her finger leaves spiderwebs of pale mold behind, dozens of white moths fluttering about her shoulders and settling atop the crown of fresh roses adorning her hair. As the moon rises and falls and rises again, the moths drop all around her, and the roses lose their bright sweetness, rotting into a slow, violet-brown mass, until the Withering Queen is draped in nothing but corpses.

The wilt-queen offers her white-clad followers all manner of delicacies over the course of their midnight banquets, and she eagerly partakes in the festivities herself, her dainty corpse-mouth red with the hearts of small, dead creatures. She caresses bony fingers—spindly like the stems of wilted flowers—down the edges of dewy blossoms and trapped prey animals before she drains all the life out of them, her face going from dead-eyed translucence to pink and flushed in the space between one exhale and the next.

Birds and insects and rodents die at the hands of the Withering Throne, laid to rest in the soil, and the Withering Queen feasts. She feasts.

#MS: WIP Intro #w&b #edit #my writing

31 notes · View notes

frannyzooey · 1 year

Text

Huge thank you to @pedrostories for hosting this incredible event — I can’t imagine the work and organization that went into it, and I am so thankful for you all!

This is a @pedrostories Secret Santa gift for the wonderfully kind @meandorla ❤️

I hope you don’t mind that I went through your blog and borrowed some of your beautiful photographs for this banner and for the story. I tried to match the aesthetics of your blog to the story and your prompt, and I hope you like it!

Din Djarin x f!reader

Rating: Mature, soft af

He moved in on a spring day — buds of new beginnings on the trees, the grass barely peeking green on the sloped hills. The air was crisp, refreshing against your cheeks when you walked over to greet him.

“Din,” he replied when you offered your name and then your hand, and when he shook it, you made a mental note about the ease in which he transferred the box he was holding from two hands to one.

His curls were wayward, unlike his gaze, which rested squarely on you. His dark brown strands ruffled gently in the breeze, the chestnut highlights picked up by the sun matching the ones in his eyes and when you smiled, he answered with a smaller one of his own.

Had you known that your words of welcome would be the few that you would say to him for months, you would have chosen them more carefully.

Close mouthed, Din wasn’t quite silent but not talkative either. The little interaction you had with him showed him careful with his words, as if speaking too many of them revealed too much and given that your schedules didn’t line up either, you found it hard to get to know him. Eventually, your self doubt assumed his lack of attempts to engage you in conversation were a sign that he didn’t like you. When it carried on that way for months, you took that to mean he actively disliked you.

You caught glimpses of him around: at the small shop in town, when he left in the morning for work, in the fields behind his house as he worked the soil — a weight of disappointment settled heavy in your chest every time you saw him after that, your imagined assumptions taking root.

The heat of that summer was just as stifling as your ache for him; your fingers longed to touch those silky curls.

“Just go talk to him,” your friend urged you for the millionth time over the phone as you sat curled on your couch; the crackling fire in the hearth warming the room and your feet. The first frost had appeared overnight, the sky descending in darkness earlier and earlier.

“I don’t know.” You looked outside into the night, towards his house. A square of light shone across the street, the glow a pictured frame surrounded by the dark and you willed him to walk past it, just to get a glimpse of him.

He didn’t, and you sighed.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” she said. “He could be over there, thinking about you for all you know.”

“Doubt it,” you replied.

Still, your heart leapt at the thought.

–

A sickness was what brought you together. A simple cold, one that lingered for days and he ended up knocking on your door to make sure everything was alright. He had noticed that you had a couple of packages outside your stoop; a white dusting of powdered snow covering them. It was unlike you not to shovel.

When you answered, he frowned at your appearance.

“Are you okay?” he asked in his concerned, direct way.

When you cinched your robe at the waist before reaching for the boxes, he offered to bring them inside for you. Once placed on your table, he turned and asked where your shovel was. Peering from the window, you watched him clear the path in brisk, efficient scoops and an hour later, he knocked on your door again. His curls damp with flakes of snow, his cheeks flushed with the cold under his sparse beard and in his hands, a pot.

Just like that, he was saying more than he ever had in words.

“I thought this might help?”

Letting him in and watching him get the soup settled on your stove, you asked him to stay and join you, preparing yourself for a no.

He flashed a dimple that you didn’t know he had; a new secret of his revealed.

“Sure. I’ll grab another bowl.”

–

One night turned into two, turned into four and pretty soon that close mouthed man was talking to you more than you had ever hoped.

Still, more often in actions than words, but when he did speak, you found him to have a quick humor, a dry down to the bone sort of sarcasm that you loved. He was an intent listener, his eyes tracing your every feature as you spoke as if they held the secret meaning to your words.

His face, in turn, was an open book when he really let you look at him and you loved the different shades of his eyes: warm in the sunlight of the afternoon, dark in the dim light of the evening, pitch black in the darkness of your living room just before he leaned in for a kiss.

A testing press of his mouth against yours, firmer when his hand cupped the nape of your neck to pull you closer and that same gray couch where he had first sat amongst your piles of crumpled tissues and a nest of blankets was where he laid you back into the cushions, settling himself solid and reassuring over you as he made space for himself between your thighs.

The want you had been feeling for months came back tenfold, thrumming through your veins and pouring out in the eagerness of your touch; your fingers finally pushing through those dark curls. You opened your mouth to let the slide of his tongue in, your thighs pressing tight around his torso and when he pulled back with a groan to peel your clothing off one piece at a time, you never felt as beautiful as you did then, bare on that couch.

He knelt on the floor between your thighs, his mouth just as worshipful as his hands, and you had arched into the slick, skillful warmth of it, crying out his name when he brought you to your peak. You had led him to your room after that, wanting nothing more than to map the planes of his body with your hands.

You did, taking your time touching what you had only dreamed of for months and he made sure you knew how beautiful he thought you were too by the end of the night, not stopping until you both fell asleep from sated relief.

–

Morning came; a soft shaft of light illuminating your thin curtains. A cold blanket of white outside; a soft comforter of heat in. He held you to his chest as he watched you sleep, and traced the line of your eyebrow delicately with the side of his thumb, quietly reveling in your softness:

Your hair, your skin, your scent, the cloud of your bed.

Your thighs, your sighs, your plush lips when they brushed against his.

Your steady, slow breathing.

Your smile, when you woke.

–

Thinking back to your first few months, you thought it was funny now to think you ever thought he was indifferent when every one of his actions had always said the opposite. You see now that he loves you with a fierceness that’s transparent in all he does. If you’re watching closely, his displays of devotion are endless:

His hold; reassuring and solid.

Making you dinner; his low laugh, the dark curls at the nape of his neck; his broad back facing you..

Shoveling your walk; the efficient push of his shovel, his coat dusted with snow, the white puffs of his breath.

Caring for you, in whatever way you need him to; his careful listening, his validating words, his husky, low reassuring praise.

In the bed you share; his hands guiding you, worshiping you, the delicate, warm heat of his mouth on your skin as he fills you until you break.

His always direct words, when he cups your face and looks you straight in the eye.

“You are so beautiful.”

He says the statement constantly, as if it’s a fact of life that he knows and you don’t, but eventually he says it enough that you start to believe it. You had always felt like a burden to the ones that came before, but not with him. Never with him.

He came that night and stayed — something you didn’t think he would ever do, and it’s like your friend had been right all along. Like he had been waiting for you just like you had been waiting for him; your living room window a beacon of light in the darkness as he sat, just waiting for you to pass by.

gif by @anakin-skywalker ❤️

Merry Christmas my lovely! ❤️

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift22 #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin/you #din djarin/reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal

218 notes · View notes

mielkexnn-miraculous · 10 months

Text

A. Agreste (aka Chat Noir) Headcanons <3

Kind of a lot tbh—just headcanons that I like to apply in my AUs when they don’t clash with their particular premises. It’s just a hot mess under the cut yeah? Cool.

He was actually in ballet classes as a kid—the same ones as Chloé.

What’s funny is that Marinette was there too. However, boys and girls were kept separate and so he only really knew Chloé.

He only found out when he was going through his closet and found a shoe box with his old shoes and a bunch of class photos; he noticed Marinette in the corner of one.

He’s still really flexible though.

He actually used to go to see a live rendition of The Nutcracker each Christmas.

He wanted to play the Rat King rlly badly.

He’s got a killer steady hand that makes for rlly good cursive.

He has the neatest handwriting in the class, and takes rlly good notes too—particularly in physics.

He’s also got terrible sense in fashion. He knows good stuff when he sees it, but doesn’t know bad stuff is bad at all.

He really likes milk; in some horrible twist of fate, he’s also lactose intolerant.

He’s totally touch starved and rlly touchy feely w/ certain people.

He refuses to kill bugs. He once screamed and lifted Alya up off her feet for trying to squash a spider in the middle of science class.

He put it in a cup before disappearing for a good five minutes so he could walk all the way over to the park to release it where it would be safe.

He’s English and French.

He really likes gelato—specifically passionfruit; peach is a close second tho.

He knows how to run in heels; has a subtly burning hatred for them.

He really likes light up sneakers though and always wanted a pair.

He knows Morse code.

Rlly ticklish.

Sneezes super loudly.

Really crappy immune system thanks to never being allowed outside his castle walls; he got sick like three times within the first two months of school.

He really likes Piano Man by Billy Joel and can sing and play the whole thing.

Honestly his music taste consists of five types of music: Heavy/classic rock, classical/classical-style music (In The Hall of The Mountain King slaps ok), Billy Joel, chill-somber-sad-theatric-feels-y, and whatever the heck that migraine-inducing bs he’s got stashed in the back is.

His Spotify is a hot mess tbch; lots of spontaneous playlists depending on how he felt at the moment. The titles are usually smth along the lines of “ifykyk”, “vibe”, or “yeah”; either that or just the playlist #.

He has like five that are nice enough to send ppl, and those are the only ones he’s listened to more than twice. They’re called “Classical Vibes”, “Cheese Demon”, “Billy Joel Aesthetic”, “sad”, and “Spontaneous 2am Dance Party OST”.

He’ll literally save recommended playlists and never listen to them.

He never bothers to clean it up though, and has 600+ playlists sitting around.

Also he used to drink a ton of pediasures as a kid and his father doesn’t let him drink them anymore bc he’s not a little kid anymore obviously but he would kill for a muscle milk.

He’ll throw up if he ever tries to eat kale again; it’s a trauma response ok.

Emotion smart but social dumb.

Honestly kinda yandere ngl.

I mean have you seen this man?? Cheez-its man, chill.

He resists when in civilian form but once he’s transformed it’s Full Gremlin Mode activated.

He’s not good at drawing but he does try; he does a lot of blob style digital and is slowly getting better.

He overcomes his feelings of being stuck and not knowing what to do in life as seen in wish maker when he spends time with the Dupain-Chengs and realizes that that is what he wants. He then dreams of working in the bakery one day.

Cannot for the life of him resist eating the batter, ok. He needs it. He’s gonna get heckin’ salmonella one of these days and it’s going to have been worth it.

He gets really good at frosting “flower” cupcakes. He switches to succulents pretty easily after learning how to airbrush. They’re adorable.

Also really good at modeling lil fondant animals and things.

He’s developed separation anxiety surrounding both ladybug and Marinette—he rlly just wants to have both of them in one place at once and he’s rlly sad that it somehow never seems to happen; he’s rlly happy post-reveal.

He rlly loves babysitting; like honestly he loves kids, so so so much; if he weren’t thinking of taking over the bakery (and/or tied down as Chat Noir), he’d probably become a pediatric nurse or a daycare attendant or smth bc 💞💞💞

He’ll leave the press to Ladybug so he can talk w/ the akuma victims and make sure they’re okay.

He’ll escape out his window and climb to high places when stressed to pace.

Once lost a Chat Noir look alike contest.

Has referred to his civilian self as, and I quote, a “dipshit boytoy” whilst en costume.

He became a total night owl thanks to his miraculous but he’s just rlly good at pretending to not be tired.

He’s more cat than he’d like to admit:

He’ll react to catnip when transformed;

He’ll also chase laser pointers;

He subconsciously stares at birds;

Once a bird got stuck in the classroom and everyone was freaking out trying to catch it in a wire trash bin and stuff but it kept evading them so Adrien looked up and pulled out his music, watched it for a second, and then caught it by the feet mid-flight;

He brought it closer to himself and calmed it down as best he could, petting it as he walked over to the window to let it out;

Everyone was flabbergasted but no one said anything as he went back to working and by the time anyone could speak it was kinda late for questions;

He gets the zoomies at the most inconvenient times;

He’s made incredibly uneasy by dogs despite actually being more of a dog person.

Also more destruction powers seeping in alongside the cat attributes:

When he’s is in a funk, there’s crappy cell service, lights flicker, machines go haywire and burn out;

If he’s REALLY upset, drinking glasses and crystal can spontaneously combust;

His powers trickle over into when he’s a civilian;

He just keeps getting more and more frustrated with his computer as it begins to function less and less and keeps giving increasingly worse error codes;

He’s in a funk for the first half the day at school and for some reason the wifi is down;

His mood is lifted after a good lunch break and all of a sudden the computers are working super fast;

Though it frustrates him at first, Adrien learns to hone his powers and either repress or, if needed, direct them.

That’s all I have for now! Feel free to adopt/modify any of these as you please :)

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #mlb #adrien agreste #chat noir #headcanon #adrien agreste headcanons #chat noir headcanons #he’s just such a sweetheart and rlly deserves better than Gabriel >:(#like ugly witch frfr #hands off the boy #oh and also naturally wavy/frizzy/messy hair adrien is to die for #but for someone who should avoid getting akumatized at all costs he listens to a shit ton of sad music huh #like honestly #also chat noir is a mirror kisser ok bye <3

38 notes · View notes

neonponders · 1 year

Text

Part 11 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🌌

Part 10

~ Part 9 + MOAR ART ~ ( pt. 7′s art 🧁)

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Billy grabbed two bottles of milk first thing while Steve and Max strolled through the chip aisle. The little ones in his pocket crowed awed sounds at the wave of cold in their face.

“Wooooh!”

“Is this snow?”

“Fwost!”

“It’s a fridge,” Billy informed bluntly. “Snow comes from the sky and frost is on the ground.”

“Smart Biwwy!”

That got a smirk out of him as he prowled through the aisles in his customary stride. “You guys are an ego boost, I’ll give you that.”

He approached Steve, who was throwing large bags of Cheetos into Max’s arms. When he moved toward something else, she remarked, “Grab another.”

He threw back, “You’re really playing this orange aesthetic up, huh?”

Max’s nostrils flared and her mouth puckered into an angry dot, not helped by Billy laughing, “Low blow.”

“I’m not made of money,” Steve defended and then asked, “Do you want anything?”

“For me? How sweet.”

Steve let his head fall back and roll from one shoulder to the other. “Okay. We’re done here.”

“What about us!”

“What’s bweakfast, Stevie?”

He pointed his gaze at Billy’s pocket and informed, “Breakfast is later, when the sun is up. We’ve got cereal, waffles, and bacon at the house.”

“But we want tweats,” small Steve complained before his face stretched in a big yawn.

Big Steve smiled and gently nudged his cheek with a knuckle. “You got a big sleep in your future, lil man. We’re seeing Robin tomorrow. She’ll have treats for you guys.”

“But...Stevie...”

“Yeah, B?”

Small Billy’s little hands hand onto the edge of the pocket as he blinked shyly up at him. “I don’t wanna sleep...”

“You’re gonna sleep really well this time, okay? I promise. We’re gonna tell those bad dreams to scram.”

“Scwam?”

Steve nodded. “Scram. Hit the road.”

“Hit the woad!” he said with more confidence.

Steve laughed and straightened up -

And got pinned in place by large Billy’s soft stare.

Seconds felt like minutes as it took Steve way too long to say, “Sorry. Personal space.”

“Never bothered me before,” Billy crooned. “No point in getting shy now.”

He walked past Steve toward the register, leaving Steve a little dumbstruck behind him. Steve recovered and followed in his own time, getting his wallet out of his pocket while Max perused the hanging rack of toys by the counter. The cardboard-backed plastic packaging slapped the counter as she announced, “These too.”

Steve and Billy observed the miniature skateboard and bicycle. Steve touched one as he remembered, “Oh, these. Teachers banned these so fast...”

Then he realized what she intended as she met his epiphany with a sarcastic smile. “There you go.”

“Heh heh,” he laughed like a mimicry while grabbing another bicycle toy. “After B is tired of almost breaking himself, they’ll both have bikes.”

“I’m fine so far,” she disregarded.

Big Billy snorted under his breath as he paid first. It was a testament to how tired the little guys were that they stayed quiet all the way out of the store. Max put her victory spoils in the Camaro with the milk, as Steve organized his front seat and grabbed the shoebox. He placed it on the trunk of his car while the siblings came over. He clicked on the fairy lights and called, “Okay, guys. You get the night sky as a ceiling tonight.”

Small Billy yawned, eyes struggling to stay open as he and Steve were helped out of the pocket. Large Steve carefully got them to the floor of their shoebox room, only for little Billy to step out of the doors and ask, “Are we sweeping outside?”

“Uh, no,” Steve answered with the harrowing thought of the box sitting on his car while he drove, “you’ll just get the view of the sky as you fall asleep.”

“But I don’ wanna sweep.”

“Hey,” he coaxed with a soft tap on Billy’s tummy. “What do we do to bad dreams?”

“Tell ‘em to swam.”

“Scram. Where can they go?”

“Hit the woad.”

Steve waved theatrically. “Just hit it.”

“Hit it.”

“That’s right,” Steve smiled. “Only have room for good dreams in that noggin’.”

Billy’s face craned up to him and glanced between Steve, Billy, and Max. “But what if they come back?”

Steve opened his mouth, but Billy answered, “That’s not your fault. Dreams happen.”

“Why?” the little one asked.

Big Billy could only shrug. “Some things aren’t up to us.”

Little Steve stepped close to him. “I’m here, Biwwy. I’ll get Stevie again, like wast time.”

Big Steve scratched his hairline, where the muscle memory woke up of tiny feet jumping on his head. “Yeah, that. That worked. Until then, let’s try a secret weapon.”

Two pairs of eyes locked onto him, as wide as they could manage for being so sleepy. “Weapon?” they both marveled.

“I can fight my dweams?” little Billy asked hopefully.

“I don’t really know,” Steve admitted, “but I can give you a shield.”

Those glass-blue eyes rolled. “Ugh, what’s a shield gonna do?”

“Look down, numb nut,” Steve ushered, looming close as the little blond head tilted forward -

Little Billy gasped as a kiss was planted on the top of his head. His face snapped up, reflecting the stars, only to gasp even louder as little Steve almost knocked him over as he laid one of his own on little Billy’s cheek.

Small Steve giggled profusely, holding his face shyly. “I fight too, Biwwy.”

Big Steve announced, “Come here, then,” and small Steve’s arms moved down to hold his body. He contained himself as Steve kissed his head -

He paused when he felt the tiniest touch on his jaw. When he dared to peek at small Billy, he could see how red he was in the neon light of 7-11. “You said Steves pwotect people. Well. I’m a knight! Right, Biwwy?”

Large Billy’s brows shot up over his flabbergasted expression. “Huh?”

“We kick ass!”

He laughed and shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Now finish your kissing fest. It’s almost dawn.”

But little Steve called, “Big Biwwy needs kisses!”

“Uh, no.”

“Come, come!”

“No, I don’t - ”

Big Steve countered, “Don’t underestimate his size. He gets real pissed.”

Max doubled on his other side, “Are you really going to abandon them when they’re offering you protection?”

Billy’s jaw ticked as he mulled that over. He growled, “Lucky me,” and leaned over the hood. “Fine. Give me your best shot, Harrington.”

But he got the same flush of warmth through his system as they both smooched either side of his mouth. He slowly straightened as he watched little Steve wave at him on his way back to his box. “Nigh’ nigh’, Biwwy!”

“Night.”

Little Billy went to the cut out doors. “When are we swimming?”

Billy sighed. “Soon. After sleep and snacks.”

The little face deliberated on that. “Hmm. Okay. G’nigh’.”

The two talked to each other in their room as if Steve, Billy, and Max couldn’t hear them chatting about the stars. Billy inhaled deeply, half-listening to his littler self spin a yarn about unicorns riding in the sky as he glanced at Steve.

“Welcome to my world. Max, are you good?”

Her haughtier and bravado seemed to finally fade as she swayed a little, twisting in place. “Yeah, I’m good. Can I come around tomorrow?”

“If it’s just you.”

“Yeah, just me,” she scoffed.

Steve smiled. “I’ve got a late shift tomorrow, but my morning’s wide open.”

Billy turned toward his car and started the march home. “Don’t sleep through it.”

“As if they’ll let me,” Steve confirmed as the Camaro doors shut, and the engine started up. He took his time, breathing in the smell of the night while he listened to the ramblings in the box slowly go quiet. When ocean breaths came and went from the box, he peeked inside, adjusted the blankets on the little ones, and took the box inside his car for the drive home.

#harringrove #wrecked-fuse #neonponders #pocketverse #pocket!au

135 notes · View notes