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princessbrunette · 2 months

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HOLD ME, KISS ME ♡

♪ the little dippers — forever ♪

WANTED: JOHN BOOKER ROUTLEDGE - SUSPECTED MURDER - $1000 REWARD - DANGEROUS! IF SPOTTED DO NOT APPROACH!

pairing: outlaw!johnb + sheltered!reader ⋆₊⊹♡

synopsis: your wishes come true when a beautiful boy is found sleeping peacefully in your barn. much to his surprise, you don’t care about who he is or what he has or hasn’t done — you just want to ensure he stays forever.

cw: mentions of prayer, religion and god (for plot purpose) reader has two parents, western!au, innocence kink, slight manipulation, mentions of crime, breeding kink, smut ♡

“Please deliver me a man, save me from this loneliness. Make him kind, and strong, and handsome. I vow to make him the happiest man alive.”

Your forehead rests against your clasped hands where you kneel beside your bed, speaking out loud as there was no one else to speak to. Your parents had gone on a trip for two weeks, leaving you in charge of the farmhouse all by your lonesome.

Isolated didn’t feel like the correct term. You were grateful, happy to live off the fat of your father’s land in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes you wished you had someone to share it with. Someone your own age who was there to see you. You had become the perfect host, thrilled when your parents would bring home guests once in a blue moon. You’d tie ribbons in your hair and pick the perfect dress and set the table like your mother taught you. You often imagined setting the table for a family of your own.

Your own farm house. The thought sent you off to sleep each night, walking through the home in your mind as if it were really real, feeling the creaking of the painted wooden porch beneath your feet as you enter, the distant cooing of your baby being comforted by your husband in the next room. White shabby-chic panels across the walls with oak furniture and knitted throw pillows and lots and lots of warm light. The kitchen table would have the perfect lace floral embroidered table cloth draped across it which you’d serve the heartiest dinners on each night. The babies room would be painted mint green, no— maybe pastel yellow, with handmade toys and a music box that played your song and oh, the master bedroom… where you and your husband rest your head would be flooded with natural light. A haven. All yours.

The details to the decoration often changed, new inspiration plucked from the papers that father would bring home and new favourite colours integrating themselves into your home plans but one thing remained the same each time. Your husband. He never had a face, but it wasn’t important. He was warm, strong without having to prove just how macho he was, kind— you could feel his love from the next room on. That was all you really wanted. You could forget the house, forget the land, live in a barn for all you care — you just wanted to experience a love like the ones in the fairytale books stacked high in your room.

It had been a week already of this routine you’d grown used to. You wake up, feed yourself and then the chickens, come inside, clean yourself and then the house, paint, crotchet or read — however the mood takes you, eat lunch, tend to the crops, brush the horses, maybe milk a cow, come inside and cook dinner, bathe, think about your dream husband and grind your wet messy cunt into a pillow, feel guilty, beg for forgiveness and then sleep. It was an easy life, and you couldn’t complain— but you couldn’t help feel the world had more to offer.

Your mother often told you that gifts from above come when you least expect it, you just had to keep your eyes open. You always wondered how one might find these gifts with no idea where to look.

Your gift arrived bright and early the next morning.

Well, not technically as early as it should have been, infact you probably nearly missed it. The roosters calls at 6AM each morning, but on that very day you had decided to sleep in. A few hours wouldn’t kill them, you think as you pull a plush white pillow to lay over your ear— it’s not like the chickens would starve.

At 11:45AM, you stumble bare foot onto the grass outside, setting out on your walk to the barn a little way up the land. Your pert nipples harden, awakened by the cool morning breeze as the thin white fabric of your nightdress blows in the wind. With the sunlight shining directly on it, it was sure to be totally and utterly see through— and you suppose that was one upside to living in the middle of nowhere, yards upon yards from civilisation. No one would see you. Sigh.

You feed the chickens, totally blind before it even occurs to you that anything might be astray. Infact, you don’t even seem to notice that the barn door was left ajar, as opposed to how you usually leave it bolted by a wooden slab to prevent the animals from wandering off or being massacred by foxes. You suppose that’s the price you pay for sleeping in, you live in dreamworld for the next few hours.

The Earth seems to stop turning for a moment when you see him.

You’re more curious than anything, wide eyed, holding your breath as to be totally silent despite having been humming and speaking to the chickens only a moment prior. You tiptoe through the hay, shards of straw sprouting between your painted toes and pin-needling your sole as you draw closer to the man. A fallen angel, your first thought.

He’s half curled up onto his side in the hay behind the stable for your white pony. He has thick-ish arms crossed over his chest, his hat laying over his face seeming to be serving as a purpose to block out the light. You figure as you hadn’t woken up him before, a closer inspection couldn’t hurt. Unhurriedly, you sink down into a squat beside him, knees pointed upwards and feet taking your balance. A real man, in your barn? It couldn’t be. You chew on your bottom lip, goggle-eyed and inquisitive as you cautiously lift the hat away from his face.

He doesn’t wake and you’re for some reason thankful. It gives you time to observe him, the breath all but knocked from your body as you take in just how beautiful he is. He was perfect, and just like what you were hoping for when you wished to be delivered a husband.

Dark eyelashes kissing at the rim of his closed eyes, pale lips and freckles, sunkissed across his nose. Your eyes trail over and across him, now with his face in mind taking in account what he looks like as a whole. You were still in disbelief, a real man sleeping in your barn. But then again, as your eyes skim lower and you notice the blood seeping through his shirt over his stomach — you wonder if he was sleeping. Surely he wasn’t dead? Only God could be so cruel to deliver you the perfect man without a pulse.

So, you press two cold fingers to his neck, searching for the rhythmic beats signifying life. As soon as you do so, the man jolts awake — wide brown eyes meeting yours.

“Jesus.”

This is where the stare off commences— you were sat in a squat giving him a straight shot up your night dress with dome like eyes and parted lips, observing him like he was some sort of alien life form that had happened upon your barn infront of your very eyes. Your chest rises and falls, and his gender fails to betray him as his eyes fall there for a moment, subconsciously noticing the way your bare tits strain against the thin fabric with each exhale. Somewhere in the back of his mind he can’t help but acknowledge that you’re a pretty thing, totally his type. In any other scenario, he might’ve seen you at a local tavern and introduced himself, getting you tipsy and loose, making you giggle beneath his soft gaze and coarse hands in some dimly lit booth before realising he’s far too respectful to take advantage of you like that.

With his eyes open, the picture is complete — and he truly is as beautiful as you thought. He had a puppy like quality to his eyes, they were big and brown but from the sunlight streaming in you could see specks of orange which intrigues you. You wish to look closer, but you feel it’s not the time. His adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow and he tears his eyes away from yours to look around, still disorientated from sleep. He touches his wound with gentle fingers and he winces, going to push himself up on his elbows.

You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it, warm deep voice raspy from rest as he dives into a sequence of begging.

“Does anyone know I’m in here?”

“No, I—”

“Okay, that’s— okay, please — hey, please don’t tell anyone. I won’t lie to you, I’m in a little bit of trouble with the law, nothing super bad I swear just — I needed somewhere safe to sleep so I ended up here. Didn’t take anything and uh— and I’ll be out of your hair now that I’m up.” He rambles, continually glancing at the barn doors, expecting Sheriff Shoupe to bust them down and take him in at any moments notice. You say nothing for a moment and he pushes himself to his feet, eyes squeezing shut at the soreness of his injury. “Think it’s easiest if I just—”

He cuts himself off this time, because you slip your hand into his— stopping him from going anywhere. His eyebrows jump up and he freezes on the spot, staring down at your doe eyes with a wide and confused gaze of his own.

“…Hi?”

“You just got here? Why’d you have to go?” You sound sad, and he actually can’t believe what he’s hearing. Not only did he break into your barn, on private land — but he’d totally overstayed his non-existent welcome, and now you didn’t want him to leave?

“P—pardon me? Ma’am?” He tries to be respectful, when what he really wants to ask is along the lines of ‘What the fuck?’.

You scramble to stand up and he helps you using the hand that you’re grasping. “Well, you won’t get far with a wound like that. It could get infected. Maybe you could come inside, let me dress it. You can refuel… maybe stay a few days?” The last part sounds wrong coming from your mouth. He’s a stranger for goodness sake— everything your parents had taught you about safety went against this and plus you were practically begging. You might have been embarrassed, if there wasn’t such a nagging feeling in your stomach telling you that this was meant to be.

He scoffs out a chuckle, because he thinks there’s no way you’re serious— but when he sees your wide eyes bouncing between his own, searching for something he couldn’t quite put a finger on— he realises you’re being completely genuine and his expression melts into a more worried gaze, shuffling a little closer on his feet.

“Look, I really appreciate your hospitality, but you have done more than enough, really. Just the fact you didn’t have the sheriff busting in to drag me away is something I will be very grateful for. Believe me. But I can’t drag you into this. Anyway, don’t you have family? That you live with?”

You sigh, looking down at your intertwined hands that you had yet to release, staring as if you were trying to memorise the feeling of a man’s touch incase you really couldn’t convince him to stay.

“Well yes, but they’re on a trip you see — and they’re going to be away for another week and I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’m awfully lonely, and I know you’re a stranger and all but I could really use the extra set of hands… plus it’s the least you could do… for breaking in…” You feel you’re pushing it with that last part, but decide to proceed with it anyway, any means necessary to get him to stay. He bites his bottom lip in thought as you stare up through your lashes and he thinks screw it. He’s sure you’re not setting him up, a little thing like you would be far too weak to pull that off.

“Okay, I… don’t see why not then.” He doesn’t sound certain, but you make such a good offer he’d be a fool not to accept. He bends down and swoops his hat off the floor, holding it to his chest and you take his hand once more, guiding him out of the barn.

He presses his lips together in an awkward smile at the way you confidently lead him, almost having to break into a jog to match your eager pace. Once nearing the house, you tell him your name and he nods — taking in the scenery.

You’re sitting him down in the living room before he can blink, and he takes in the setting around him. A real cozy place, a family home for sure — with a pale blue couch, a scratchy patchwork blanket draped over the back and floral cushions. There’s photos of you in multiple spots around the room, an only child — he gathers. The main photo sits on the mantelpiece, framed, a set of parents curtaining your smiling face in the image. You seem to be a few years younger, fuller in the face, still cute as a button.

He doesn’t quite realise you’d gone anywhere until you’re returning — the contents of an old first aid box rumbling in your grip. You give him a reassuring smile and lower to kneel by his feet, opening up the container and fishing around for some cotton pads.

“Do you have a name, mister?”

He clears his throat, trying to gage your reaction once he speaks, attempting to work out if the name rings any bells. “Uh, yeah. John B. John B. Routledge. You might’ve… actually heard of me. If you have, uh— I’m sorry.”

You don’t seem to react in any kind of alarming way, a smile grazing your face as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a soft white pad.

“Heard of you how? Are you famous?”

“…You’ve never seen those big ‘Wanted’ posters up in town? Kinda got my picture up on one of them.”

You peel up his shirt revealing tanned, toned skin and a wound that had crusted over with blood. You press the pad to it and he winces, knuckles turning white in his lap and head lulling back against the seat for a moment.

“Sorry.” You furrow your brows apologetically before continuing to mop up all the dried blood. “Oh, and I’m not allowed up in town. Not by myself anyway. So, I don’t keep up to date with all that… stuff.” You pull away, rifling through the box for another clean pad. He nods, eyes jumping to look at his wound and then back to you, watching your face for any discomfort regarding his presence. Oddly, there was none. If it wasn’t clear before, it’s wildly apparent now that you’ve truly been sheltered your whole life. There was this innocence you carried that was hard to come by, a lack of judgement that was sweet but made him worry for you slightly. You were lucky he had a good heart.

“That’s… probably for the best, actually. You know, they like to tell lies. I’m being falsely accused.” He speaks a little slower, and enunciates the last part as if you might not understand, and as expected— you hang onto every word, lips a little parted and wide eyed. It’s pretty cute, albeit inappropriate considering he’s a stranger.

As he speaks, you wrap his wound, pressing the sticky part down onto his skin before gently pressing the cotton covering his injury. “Well I’m really sorry about that John B. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You chirp, before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss over the dressing, pulling back to offer him a sweet smile. The lines on John B’s forehead smooth out, his concerned expression melting into his own gentle smile of disbelief.

He wonders what the odds are that he’d stumbled upon a real life angel. Well, it was that — or you wanted to chop his body into tiny pieces whilst he slept and add it to your cauldron. He couldn’t quite figure it out yet, but you were pretty — and he was a total loverboy, so stupidly he was willing to take that risk.

He pulls his shirt back down over his now dressed wound and you begin to clear your things back into the first aid box.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Like, anything you need help with around here?” He offers and you look up at him, brows furrowing with adoration.

“Goodness, no— I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Said you needed an extra pair of hands earlier.” He challenges with a smile.

“I only said that to get you to come inside. With your injury, I couldn’t possibly put you to work.”

He scrunches his face a little with a half scoff, half smile and shrugs one shoulder. “Please, this thing? It barely even stings. Come oooon.” He croons with a smirk, and you really feel the full effects of his charm now— the warm timbre of his voice headed straight to your clit giving it a heartbeat of its own.

“Fine.” It comes out airy with a giddy smile and you take his hand yet again, almost getting distracted by the coarseness against your palm, the sight of bulging veins along the backs of them.

Your bare feet are treading lightly over soft wood chip once more as you lead him toward the destroyed fence round the left side perimeter of the farm.

“So… I suppose you could carry all the planks back from the fence that fell down in that awful storm last week. I was gonna wait for my daddy to get home to get him to do it ‘cus I’m much too weak for something like that.” You point, and John B’s brown fluffy head follows your finger to the destination at hand. He nods, a doable task.

“Well a girl like you shouldn’t be lifting a finger anyway.” He turns his head back to face you with a smile, eyes squinted in the sun. He looks radiant, no sign of pain anymore and you look down at your night gown, scrunching it in your clammy hands with an uncontrollable grin at the floor, harbouring such an innocent crush on the boy already that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

His gaze stays on you for a tick whilst you step quietly and he speaks up again, tilting his head a little inquisitively. “I really, really hope this doesn’t sound rude… ‘cus I don’t mean to be. But… are you not… married?” He trails off, thinking of all the times he’s been walloped round the head in taverns for asking questions of a similar nature. Your smile doesn’t go away, your gentle nature not retiring for a moment.

“Oh no, no. I don’t meet boys often. Thats why I’m happy you came!” You chirp, hand reaching out to softly squeeze his arm. “Can be like husband and wife whilst you stay round.”

He just laughs in response. Not necessarily in a mean way, but the same way you laugh when a child tells you they’re going to be an astronaut when they grow up.

The brutal beating of the sun does nothing to stop the honest work you’d put the self proclaimed outlaw up to, he seems to be deep in thought often — carrying the planks to and fro. You slip inside for a while to change into something more appropriate, a sweet and floral sundress that ties up at the straps and hugs you in a more womanly way. You’d rubbed your lips together as you fixed your hair in the mirror before bringing him a sandwich in the early afternoon. “You are adorable.” He grins when you do so, and it wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for on your dress but it still made you warm in the face. He simply brought out a true primal bodily reaction from you— that’s why you’d skipped the panties under your dress. He was making you excited and slippery down there and you just didn’t see the point. You stay out for hours at a time to chat with him. Your affections grow.

John B. Routledge finally returns back to the house when he’s all finished and you let him lay down for a nap on your couch, finally getting some real rest in. Whilst he does so, you spend hours preparing a hearty meal — the type you reserve for when mama and papa have guests round. As the pie browns off just a moment longer in the oven, you come to the man’s side, kneeling beside him and stroking his fluffy hair back.

“I made dinner. Sure you’re really hungry.” You whisper and his eyes flutter once more, the arms that were crossed over his chest stretching out as he wakes. You sit back to give him space, and when he opens his eyes you’re there with a smile — the orange beam of sunset haloing your head. Something about an angel drafts through his mind once more and he stretches.

“Oh boy, I slept longer than I was meant to huh?” He sits up and you shrug, leading him through to the kitchen where you’d laid the round table. Steaming seasoned vegetables in a bowl, freshly picked by you. Warm bread, baked and scored by you with flowers the centrepiece of the table. A jug of gravy there too. There’s a tray of mashed potatoes waiting, creamy and delicious looking. Routledges stomach audibly growls and he chuckles at this as he sits down, taking in the scenery you’d laid out. “You… have spoiled me. All this for someone who breaks into your barn?” He chuckles as he lowers himself into the seat.

You follow him round the table with a giddy smile. “Told you I like havin’ guests.” You perch your bottom on his leg, an arm wrapped around his neck as your feet swing. It felt right. You’d always wanted to sit with a man this way, you’d seen it before in the picture shows. Man and wife, domestic bliss. His brows jump up and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Oh… sweetheart, you shouldn’t do that. I am a— a stranger, after all.” He tries to do the responsible thing, even though there was something about your innocent brashness that was turning him on beyond belief. Your eyebrows knit in the centre, a line between them and your bottom lip seems to have doubled in size from how it pushes out.

“But I like you?” You mewl, rejected. It all seems so simple to you, which is probably feels super unfair. No one had taught you how to address men because you were so sheltered, and now it was giving you all of these complicated feelings that John B would have to deal with.

“And I like you — a whole bunch. You know I’m super grateful for you taking me in and… all that good stuff. But sitting right here is gonna… make me excited. Because I’m a guy. Go ahead and hop off for me.” He taps your lower back gently and you huff, feeling upset and rejected about the whole thing. His eyes are all wide and hopeful as he stares at you, like he wanted to make sure you were okay. The way he handles you so sweetly made your stomach stir despite your current mope.

You drag your feet to the oven comically and he stifles a chuckle at how dramatic you were, despite his sympathy. You place your hands into oven gloves and take out the pie— perfect and golden. You walk it to the table and John B sits up a little straighter, eyes darting between you and the food.

“Did this all by yourself? You have got a real knack for cooking. Should put you on the TV.” He grins, switching on the charm to attempt to loosen up your silent sulk. You nod, eyes casted down childishly and he reaches out to touch your arm. “Thank you, pretty girl.”

A small smile slips out, and he flickers his eyes over to the heart shape you’d scored onto the pie, his own lips twitching up into a smirk. “That for me?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

You end up giggling, his smile too infectious and your bad moment is all forgotten as you serve him a slice, plating up for him and then yourself before you eat. John B digs in ravenously, it’s almost erotic — the way he’s groaning at how good it all tastes, gravy dripping from his lips as he licks more off his fingers. He was clearly less proper-mannered than you, but you liked that. Table manners were for boring old people anyway. Maybe everything about him got you going, but you had to really concentrate on getting some food inside you instead of just watching the show of eating he was putting on.

Once you’re finished, and he’s finishing up on his third helping — you let your giggles die down from the wild goose chase story he relayed for you, one where he of course wound up the hero which only made your heart beat harder for him. Your socked foot begins to prod at his ankle, sliding up his leg until it rests in his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind, the food having lowered his guard just that bit as he leans back in his chair, undoing his belt. He adjusts his hips on the seat as he does so and your thighs clench.

“So what did you think?” You ask, though you think it’s clear that he liked the meal from the empty plates and unbuckled belt. He lets out a long satisfied sigh, gazing at you for a moment with a kind smile.

“I think, whoever gets to marry you is a lucky son of a bitch.” He presses his lips together, almost like he was disappointed about the idea of you with another. You blink, the hands resting beneath your chin dreamily slowly falling to play with eachother on the table.

“Why not you, John B?” You question sadly, giving him those eyes again. The ones that tug on his heart and made him wanna give you everything and anything you ask for. He lifts a napkin, bringing it to his mouth as he shakes his head dismissively, closing his eyes with a frown.

“Mm—mm.” The tissue fabric muffles the sound. “You don’t wanna marry me, believe me — okay, I’m an outlaw. Your parents would never in a billion years accept me. Anyway you… you deserve someone less rough and tumble, you know? Like a prince from a storybook. A bubblewrap life. Not… whatever this is.” He gestures to himself, more so the browned blood stain on his shirt.

You sigh, determined. “My parents would understand. They’re — they’re generous people.”

“Really? ‘Cus they don’t even let you leave the house.” He quips quickly in response, smirking at your naivety and you fall silent for a moment. His face flattens just a tad from guilt. You were far too soft for that kind of tone.

When you look up at him again, your face is more solemn — wide eyes searching his for a shred of understanding. “You don’t understand, John B. There are actual scary, dangerous men out there that would take me and do terrible things to me.”

The outlaw leans his elbows on the table, his lips stretched into an amused smile at the irony. There wasn’t an inkling of threat about the gesture, pure amusement coursing through the energy between you from his side alone. “And how do you know I’m not one of those scary, dangerous men. Hm?” His voice is warm, it seems to rumble straight from his chest. You release a shaky sigh.

“Well you haven’t hurt me yet?” Your voice lilts out, and you engage in a long stare off. There’s a different kind of tension in the air now, it’s hot and feels heavy on you. It oozes into the nooks and crannies of your balmy skin and slithers between your thighs. You can’t take the heat and you stand, beginning to bring his dishes to the sink to wash. It’s quiet for a while, John B watching you with this thoughtful and almost knowing smile as you tidy up around him. Even he couldn’t run from how good ‘domestic bliss’ felt.

You let yourself indulge in the fantasy too. Wife cleans up, husband sits behind at the table and sips at the drink she poured him. You wanted nothing more than to experience this everyday, and your heart sinks sadly at the fact that this will probably be the last. You lose yourself to thoughts and daydreams as you scrub away, to the point you nearly don’t hear him stand up, slowly walking to lean against the sink beside you.

You smile at him politely as he eyes you, and return your gaze to the plate in your hand. You mustn’t dwell. He moves, and soon he’s behind you, a hand resting against the sink beside your hip, head craning round to look at you from the other side. “You’re really serious about this husband and wife thing, aren’t you?”

“Very serious, sir.” You bat your lashes at him earnestly and his cock stirs in his pants at the title, unexpected but not unwelcomed. Bless your heart, you were only being courteous. He presses his lips together in thought and the side of your face warms with his slow exhale. Turning your body, you face him fully now. “I just think it was divine intervention that you wound up in my barn. You’re like an angel sent to take away my loneliness.” You’re shy, a little bashful about your beliefs and without thinking he cups your cheek in reassurance, thumb swiping slowly over the skin.

His eyes take in your every detail, and your lips part with a wobbly breath, nervous. “May I kiss you, John B?” You address, just as his thumb strokes the delicate skin below your eye. He grins, slightly amused by your formality and simply nods his head.

You stand on tip toes to reach him, socked feet almost knocking at his boots as your body presses to his, lips meeting. You’re a little messy, inexperienced— which comes as no surprise to the boy as he tilts his head, welcoming your mouth at another angle and taking control in order to guide you. You’re mostly a quick learner, slowing your pace to something much more sultry and he nearly can’t contain his excitement. He wants to be a gentleman, but as soon as he introduces his tongue — you lose composure, needy and all but panting into his mouth right then and there in the kitchen. He pulls away and breaks the string of saliva that connects your lips with his thumb, stroking it over your moist bottom lip as you stare at him readily.

He tilts his head, eyes wide and almost innocent as he gestures away. “You… want me to show you what husbands do with their wives?”

You nod so hard your eyes nearly roll back like one of those baby-dolls.

John B is the one to take your hand this time, leading you slowly and carefully through the house. You partially think he’s giving himself time to rethink what he’s about to do, but from the way your pussy is drooling into your panties — it feels set in stone. He finally reaches your bedroom and you watch his head move left and right as he takes it in, cheek lifting with a smile at the China dolls on the wall and the frilly white bedsheets. It’s clear your room hasn’t changed since you were a little girl. The sun is just starting to disappear behind your lace curtains and he switches on the lamp, sitting you down.

The man joins you, easing himself down at your side and cupping your cheek as he begins to kiss you again. He takes it slow, but the passion and need only grows as the splayed hand on your back begins to slide upwards until its cupping the back of your head and he’s beginning to slowly lower you to lie down like you’re made of glass.

Naturally you shuffle up the bed and he follows, hovering over you and leading with his tongue this time — the wet muscles wrapping around eachother languidly making you moan, legs falling wider apart.

“I wanna make you feel really good, okay? That okay with you?” He asks gently and you nod, sucking in a breath. You’d waited for something like this since you knew what pleasure was, craved the touch of a man with strong coarse hands and a wet mouth. Routledges thumbs swipe across your tits through your dress, massaging them until your nipples were poking painfully through the fabric as he burrows into your neck, licking and sucking.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he tugs gently at your dress, eyes meeting yours once more.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?”

He tugs the garment up and over, puffing out his cheeks as he blows air out his mouth, brows raised at the sight of your naked body. You look so soft, so pliable beneath him. He was already hard just from kissing you, but this made him feel like he might combust. “Took your underwear off?” He smirks, pressing kisses to your stomach and between your tits before bringing his face up to eye level with you, same kind but teasing smile on his face. “Have you been needing me aaall day? Hm?”

You turn your head to the side, flustered and clammy with a whine— eyes screwed shut. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Oh, now you’re shy?”

“No, s’just — when you speak like that— n’say stuff like that… makes me hurt…” You’re breathless, hips twitching and bucking slightly as he grins, pearly whites showing.

“Aw.” Is all he manages before continuing his descent down.

He’s a real tease, spending an ungodly amount of time on your tits— sucking, licking and biting your nipples until you’re arched off the bed, teary eyed and wincing from sensitivity. It’s then, and only then he starts to kiss lower, pushing himself down your pristine sheets until he’s settling between your legs, gently easing your ankles upwards so that your knees faced the sky, your cunt fluttering and open right infront of his face.

“Well she’s very pretty.” He smiles up at you, thumbs coming up to spread you. He leans in slowly, hot breath fanning over your heat before he simply presses the softest kiss to your clit. He draws back again as you whimper, running the pads of his thumbs up along your spread folds. “Hear that? So wet, pretty girl.” He marvels in a whisper.

“Just want you to make it better.” You mewl and he nods slowly in understanding, tongue swiping over his lips as he observes you.

“That I can definitely do.” He confirms before leaning in, licking and sucking at your clit as his thumb automatically rolls downwards to massage your hole. You gasp, knees shooting up towards your chest as he eats you, similarly to the pure fervour and passion he only recently devoured the meal you cooked for him. You wondered how any appetite remained.

When he sinks his middle finger inside you, your stomach tenses — a high pitched noise of relief and utter devastation leaving you. You had no idea how badly you’d craved fullness to this very moment, and you weren’t even halfway there. He’s smiling against you, glancing up as you flutter around his single digit and make plenty of noise for him. “Yeah? Think you’ve really been needing some of that, little girl.” He nearly laughs at your extreme reaction. He had to admit, it was fun doing this with someone so inexperienced. Everything to you seemed like the best thing ever.

He eats and eats away, proving himself to have quite the monstrous appetite for your slick . Your feet rest on his shoulders at one point, lost in pleasure as you whine and writhe and to keep you out of the way, the outlaw pushes your legs up and pins them there, nose deep in your gloss.

“Feels too good— feels— hurts!” You cry, because you don’t know how to put that you’re simply aching to cum.

“Doesn’t hurt, sweet girl. Just let it happen.” He corrects in that low reverberation that you’ve grown to love. After a series of ‘Uh’ and ‘Mm’s, you feel yourself hitting that peak — the one you usually reach all over the soft cotton of your pillow, but ten times the strength.

As soon as he senses this happening, he doubles down and continues repeating the same action with his mouth over and over until you’re squealing and pushing him away, curling into a ball as your completion dribbles out of your quivering hole.

He grins, real proud of himself as he pushes up on his hands to near you, gently shushing you the same way you would to soothe a baby to sleep. “I know, that was a lot huh?” He coo’s, rubbing your back with his warm hand as you suffer the aftershocks, clenching and whimpering, a smaller clammy hand reaching out to his shirt to grab a fist of it.

He forces you softly onto your back, stroking a hand over your warm forehead. For someone so convinced the two of you shouldn’t be together, he sure did look at you like you were his entire world. By the gaze shared, you would never know the two of you only met that morning.

“What now, hm?” He smiles, quiet. You open your mouth to speak, and your voice rasps from the loud and explosive release that had you calling out.

“Wanna… make you feel as good as you made me feel, John B.”

He licks his lips, thinking over it. If it wasn’t already clear, his dick was throbbing in his pants just from pleasing you— and had you wanted to end things there he would be sure to take a trip to the bathroom to finish in his hand. Maybe swipe a pair of your underwear from the basin for inspiration, but that made his stomach tense with guilt.

“Think I can manage that, yeah.” He nods before reaching slowly for his belt. “Sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, good.”

His belt is still undone from after dinner so he slides the snakey leather from its loops with one hand, the act more attractive than you anticipated which made you clench once more with need. He sits on the edge of the bed and you usher up beside him, pressing your naked body to him and ghosting your drooly lips over his jaw line as he sighs, working his length out of his pants.

“Oh my.” You breathe, as soon as you look down. Now you hadn’t had much experience in dealing with the male anatomy, clearly — but you knew for certain John B had to be miles larger than the average man. His cock stood tall, straight — slightly mauve towards the tip with a beautiful blue vein drifting down his shaft like a river on a mountain. His balls sat beneath, heavy and pink — inviting in a way that made your mouth water primally.

“Yeah? This is… what m’working with.” He chuckles, sounding a little nervous.

“How do I…” You mutter after a moment and he’s quick to take your hand, pressing your fingers so that it forms a cup and bringing it to your mouth.

“You wanna spit for me, pretty? Right here.” He encourages and whilst you don’t understand, you do as he wishes, letting a bubbly glob of saliva drool out into the cupped crevice of your hand. You look up at him with wide unsure eyes, searching for praise or reassurance that you’d done as he asked. He presses his lips together at the sweet and submissive expression, shifting his hips a tad in excitement. “Mm, fuck.” He punctuates with an airy chuckle, ticking his head in a single shake.

He brings your hand down and begins to smear it all over himself, releasing a shaky exhale as he does so. “So, uh… you’re gonna wanna move your hand. Just like this.” He sighs as he works your hand up and down his shaft, slowly jerking him off. Your eyes flicker between his face and pretty dick to make sure you were doing it right. As you do so, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, muttering a “So sweet, bubba.” Against your mouth.

This only encourages you to gain confidence, doing whatever feels right. You twist your hand— squeezing just a tad harder towards the tip as that seemed to be what made him release that heavenly groan, jaw constantly agape as he watches your hand.

“Theeere you go sweetheart. Easy right? Like milking a cow.” He kisses your temple briskly once more before his eyes screw shut, chest heaving with quicker breaths. You get carried away, fascinated by the pearly precum that seeps from his slit as you work him with your hand and following your own judgment you lean down. You figure if he used his mouth on you, you could return the favour.

His eyes open with a loud shudder when you tentatively wrap your plush lips around his tip, working your hand up and down to try and squeeze more of the interesting salty flavour from him. You let out a long drawn out moan of your own as you feel your clit throbbing with desire, liberating his precum from your mouth to let it dribble back down his shaft in messy bubbles.

He winces, placing a hand on your shoulder and removing you with such an abrupt speed that you nearly flew off the side of the bed. You sit up straight, slick mouth pouting as your eyes flicker between his, worrying that you’d done something wrong. There’s a second of just looking at eachother, before you stumble over some words.

“S—Sorry. Did I hurt—”

“No, no God no. I uh— I just wasn’t sure if I should make a mess all over that pretty face just yet.” His wide eyed expression melts into a reassuring smile, thumb rising to swipe lovingly at your cheek. You lick your lips, savouring the taste of him and nod — not quite sure where to go from there.

Your silence makes him question, and he eyes you. “Is there… anything in particular you want now?”

You think, blinking your doll-like eyelashes off into the distance before nodding once more— pushing off away from him and scurrying to the head of the bed where you lay yourself gently on the pillows.

“Hm?” He follows up in confusion, craning his neck round to watch you.

“Would… like a baby now, please.” You spread your legs a little, shy and bashful in your request like you wasn’t sure if you’d asked impolitely. His face falls as he stares at you for a moment before closing his eyes, rubbing over his face with an exasperated chuckle, elbows on his knees.

As you stare at him with with an upset little pout, already ashamed by your forwardness. “Like husband and wife?” You try to justify and he sighs out his nose, turning his body fully to you.

“Oh sweet girl.” He tugs you gently lower toward him by your hips, rubbing his thumbs at your waist. “We just met.��

You launch into full fledged begging, whiny and high pitched with tears threatening to dive over their trough. “I’ll make you so happy John B, I’ll make all your problems go away and you won’t have to run anymore. Please?” You were deadset on this man giving you your dream life, and you’d officially pushed shame to the side in order to get this. His brow is permanently creased, staring with those big wide puppy dog eyes, continually stroking your skin in hopes to calm you.

“Are you… sure that’s what you want? You’re still young. So much time for all that.”

“Just want it now. I’d never be lonely again.” You sound defeated, staring down away from him now. He felt bad, he’d always hated disappointing people. Once upon a time he was a fixer, always running to his friends aid to make their problems go away. That urge never died, just burned low and quiet like an old candle flame. He wanted to make your problems go away too.

“Okay.” He presses his lips together. “I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.”

He watches your devastated expression lift into a radiant grin, and it was like watching the sun appear from behind a grey cloud after weeks of downcast weather. “Yeah?” You chirp toothily as he crawls over you, leaking tip grazing your tummy and then your folds as he buries his face into your neck.

“Uh-huh.”

When he pushes his tip inside, John B says a prayer for the first time in his life.

He’d never really followed any religion. His father had been the type to say it was all a bunch of ‘Mumbo jumbo’ and that he should believe in the human psyche instead, or something like that. But as your wet folds swallow him and you release that high pitched mewl at the inevitable stretch — he finds himself asking God — please, please don’t let me knock this young girl up.

There’s a warm blanket of chills that cover his spine as he slowly sheathes inside of you, feeling like he was pushing deeper and deeper into a black hole that would selfishly keep sucking him inside for the rest of his life. It felt too good, calming — like falling asleep. He was euphoric.

“So — so big inside me!” Your cry knocks him out of his thoughts and he kisses your shoulder before looking down to watch himself push in all the way to the hilt.

“Feel okay, gorgeous?”

You nod, a pained whine falling from you as you dig your nails into his skin, walls fluttering around him like they were constantly trying to accommodate for this thickness. “Fuck.” He groans, before sliding back a little and starting to thrust. Yeah, he wasn’t gonna last too long— he needed to get to work on you fast.

As he gently fucks into you, your plush tits recoil with the movement and he can’t close his mouth, sounds and sighs leaving him without permission. A hand slides between the two of you, the other pulling his shirt up to grip between his teeth— giving himself a better view of the way he strokes at your clit — your legs being spread exposing it, making it easier for him.

You clench, and shudder — that sweet face contorting with each time his tip ever so slightly grazes your cervix, careful not to bruise it. You really were beautiful, that type of homely beauty he’d thought of marrying in his lonely nights of travelling through desert and grass. The type of girl you work for, the type that deserves spoiling, princess treatment. The more he fucks, the more he’s convincing himself that impregnating you might not be the most awful thing after all. Why should he chase away security?

Your fingertips grace his chest, and he takes your hand — pinning it to the bed as your fingers intertwine, using the grip to aid his rolling thrusts— speeding up the pace and force now he knew you could take it like a champ. His mouth opens to speak, and his shirt drops out of it.

“Taking me real good baby. You like getting fucked, don’t you?” He coo’s and you can only nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes before rolling down to your temples. Poor thing, lost for words.

There’s a wet slapping sound with each thrust, your cunt equally gushing as it was thirsty — hungrily welcoming each inch of his, and even demanding more by locking your ankles around his lower back. Perhaps you did it for comfort, or perhaps because you suspected a hesitance, the threat of him pulling out last minute too much for your baby-crazed brain.

“Jesus. Sweet little puppy.” He breathes like it’s a revelation beneath your ear, the curly tuft of hair above his shaft tickling you as he continues to rub your clit.

“S’gonna happen again, John B. The big feeling.” You strain, eyes clamped shut and sniffling— too overwhelmed by your impending orgasm. He kisses each eye lid and watches you closely, experiencing you unfold once more.

“Thats my good girl. Let me have it, pup. Gimme a good one.”

You’re an explosion of whimpers and moans, thrashing under his firm grip once more— and he’s not sure when your orgasm ends, if it even ends at all— he doesn’t care, the release pushing him close to his own. He speeds up his pace, hand that was at your clit now wrapping around your lower back, forearm pushing your lower half up and against him, forcing you to just keep taking him.

He was like a beast from a fairytale book, fucking wildly into you with a primal determination that had you struggling to breathe. You’re crying now, full out crying because it’s just so much. There’s still one last thing you require, and only he can give you it.

“You wanna make me daddy, huh?” He demands, that gentleness in his voice gone. It’s nearly unrecognisable from him, and you preen beneath the rough touch.

“Mhm!”

“Words.” He barks. He didn’t mean to be mean, he just got a little bossy when he was close. You’d come to learn that.

“Please give me a baby. Please just — make you a daddy! Need it!” You’re squealing, voice shaking from the hard ‘plap plap plap’ of his balls slapping against you. You feel you might pass out if this goes on much longer.

He releases with a long groan, lips dropping to the centre of your chest and back arching upwards. You register his sounds before you feel it, hot slimy ropes of him— shooting up inside you, warming your walls. You moan too, because it feels so good to be full. It feels right, like this was what had been missing after all.

Everything is a blur for the next few minutes. It’s like you black out a little, because maybe you forgot to be breathing like you should have been. You briefly recall John B scooping you up and helping you through that, ignoring the gooey seed dripping from you to cradle you like a baby, humming a calm “Breathe, sweetheart. In and out. With me, c’mon.” Your gentle boy was back, and through your haze you smile.

Once you’re tucked at his side beneath a soft cotton blanket, his hand stroking over your head after cleaning you up, a whispered conversation ensues.

“Do you really like me John B? Like, you really think I’m beautiful?” You inquire, gazing up at him with stuck together black eyelashes. The question was so innocent, yet he could tell it was so meaningful.

His expression doesnt falter, a gentle smile sat comfortably on his lips as he continues to pet you. “Baby, I think you’re the ponds swan. Just… gotta get to know you a little better, okay? ‘Specially if I really did put a baby in you.” Only then his smile falters, brows knitting as the reality sets in. Oh Lord.

“Okay.” Your eyes flutter closed, happy to leave it at that, happy to fall asleep right by his side under his watchful eye. It was unnerving how safe a lonely girl could feel with a stranger.

“Okay. Good girl. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.” He quietly reassures, watching you drift off. He’s not sure if he’s trying to dispel your fears, or his own.

#outlaw!johnb #john b fic 🎀

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satorusluver · 6 months

Text

Duke!Nanami x maid!reader

Minors DNI

This takes place in the same AU as my Prince Gojo drabble (except the reader isn't with both of them, idk think of it like otome routes lol)

Word count: 700 ish

Tags/warnings: oral (f receiving), male masturbation, uhh idk I can't think of any others I'm tired lol

The difference between Duke Kento Nanami and Crown Prince Satoru falling in love with a servant girl is that Kento wouldn't dare risk getting you pregnant. He is practical, mature, and most of all, selfless. He knows it would ruin your reputation and leave you a single mother because he could never be with you officially, and he could never risk doing that to his precious girl.

So instead he settles for sneaking you into his room (something that's easier for him than it would be for the prince because he isn't nearly as important as the future king) late at night for...less risky activities. Kento's bed is softer and more extravagant than anything your commoner body has ever experienced, with downy feather pillows and sheets of satin embroidered with gold trim, and he often lays you down on it and spreads your plush thighs to feast on your cunt like it's the finest dessert, until your legs are shaking and your cum stains those expensive sheets. Kento is a giver, not a taker. Of course, he enjoys letting you please him with your hands or mouth. But ultimately, your pleasure is his pleasure, and he's quite content with making you fall apart on his tongue.

Occasionally, though, he'll allow himself to indulge a little, rubbing his swollen cockhead through your slick folds, grinding the underside of it and against your overstimulated clit. But even he sometimes struggles with his self-control. One time he shifts a little too far back and the tip of his cock ends up right up against your entrance, just barely pressing into it. Kento clenches his jaw and digs his fingers into the sheets, imagining how good it would feel to be completely enveloped in you, to feel your tight walls hugging and squeezing his cock, to finally be one with you like he's always dreamed of.

Kento's eyes flick to your face, to your blissed out expression, your ruddy cheeks, your parted lips, your glossed over eyes and the sheer desire radiating off of you. And he knows he could do it, he could just slide his achingly hard length into your warm, welcoming cunt and you wouldn't stop him. And he takes a deep breath, and then he just....pulls away and rolls over next to you on the bed.

You ask if he's okay, and he says yes, he's fine. You ask him if he wants you to do something to help relieve the ache in his throbbing cock, and he says no, he's fine, and that he thinks it's best if you go ahead and return to the servants quarters now. You look up at him, your head tilting in confusion and your eyes filling with worry. So he presses a kiss to your temple and reassures you that everything really is alright, that he's just getting a headache - and besides, the longer you stay, the more likely someone will notice you missing from your bed.

You still seem a bit hesitant, but you redress yourself and leave his chambers with one last glance back at Kento, who gives you a warm, reassuring smile. And the moment you're gone, Kento throws his head back against the pillow with a pained groan, his hand slipping under the sheets to grip his cock tight - as tight as he imagines your sweet pussy must be. He strokes himself from base to tip, eyes closed and pretending it was you moving up and down on him, remembering the heavenly sounds you made as you came on his tongue and wondering if you'd make those same sounds when you came on his dick.

The sight of your naked body is still fresh in his mind, helping him hurdle toward his climax with each increasingly desperate pump of his hand. And when he cums, he cums hard, moaning out your name and fucking up into his first as the pearly ropes of his thick release spill over onto his hand and abs. And when the exhaustion sets in as his high begins to fade, Kento breathes a sigh of relief that it's only him who has to deal with the aftermath of his pleasure.

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sweetsweetjellybean · 8 months

Text

A night out with friends turns into a surprise welcome home party for the man who broke your heart, Eddie Munson.

Masterlist Listen to Scar Tissue Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago, with flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter. Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC:5162. Beta'd by @superblysubpar

“Have a good day,” your mother calls out as you shut the front door to the gray clapboard-sided home that your parents had fallen in love with the moment they laid eyes on it. You hadn’t even gotten past the front steps before she appears in the doorway, pulling her purple terry-cloth robe tighter around her shoulders as she calls you back. “You don’t have to come right home after school,” she tells you, pressing a few folded bills into your hand, “Go out with your friends. Have some fun.”

“Thanks, Mom.” You muster up a smile, shoving the bills into the front pocket of your Levi's, certain they will end up in the ceramic pink elephant bank that sits atop your dresser, just like the money she gave you last week. She watches you walk down the steps, giving you a wave before she turns away, shutting the door behind her.

She tries her best, but she doesn't understand that friendships in the seventh grade aren't made as easily as they were in kindergarten, and you can't tell her that in the six weeks you've been enrolled at Hawkins Middle School, not a soul has spoken to you unless asked to by a teacher.

This was the life that your parents had chosen, a career that demanded constant relocation and upheaval. "It's an adventure," they'd tell you as your things were being packed into boxes. But the older you got, it felt less like an adventure and more like a test. A test to prove yourself over and over. There’s a phrase your mom has uttered so often over the years, that it's surprising it's not embroidered on the throw pillows. Bloom where you're planted. But here, in this town, you're only a weed in the garden.

Hawkins isn't any worse or better than any of the other ten places you've lived in the last seven years, but these kids have been together since birth and aren't eager to welcome newcomers into the flock. Pouring your efforts into being confident and friendly, projecting a cool and unbothered facade, the constant exposure has left you empty. The mask is too heavy, and you’ve been wearing it far too long. If this were one of the comics you kept in the box under your bed, you'd be discovering your superpower–Invisibility. They don't see you here, and maybe they never would.

The edges of folded bills in your pocket press into the meat of your thigh. Adding them to your total should give you enough for the new Elastica CD. With a bit of luck, you might be able to talk your dad into driving you to Tower Records in Indianapolis this weekend. A few houses away, the battered front door of a small yellow cape opens with a click and thud, drawing your attention. The house was more run-down than the others on this street. The grass was left to grow a little longer before being mowed, and a few nights a week, you could hear the yelling coming from inside before seeing the slow flash of lights of a cruiser parked in front.

A boy with curly shoulder-length hair bounds out from inside the house, slinging on his worn backpack as he hits the sidewalk.

Right on time this morning.

The scuff of your white Doc Martens falls in step with the crunch of his black Converse hitting the pavement. The chain running from his back pocket to his hip sways with his movements. It’s more of a determined bounce than a walk. Your eyes stay trained on the frayed holes of his Jansport, corners of textbooks and papers pushing through. You keep waiting for physics to kick in and the thing to give way entirely.

“Quit following me.”

His voice floats over his shoulder, shattering the quiet of the morning. Your head swivels from side to side, looking for whoever he is speaking to. His body turns until he’s walking backward, both hands gripping the straps of his backpack, casting his expectant brown eyes on you.

“Me?” You ask, touching your chipped painted fingernails to your chest.

“You’ve been following me for weeks, and it’s creepy.”

“I’m not following you,” you say incredulously, “We’re just going to the same place.”

“Well, walk on the other side of the street or something,” he says, turning back around, continuing on his way like he assumes you’ll comply.

“No.”

Your defiance comes out flat and solid, drawing a line, sick of him and this whole town.

“Yes,” the word comes back without a glance, utterly unbothered by your show of determination.

“No,” you repeat louder, your eyebrows pulling together in a scowl, “If you don’t like it, you walk over there.”

“I was here first.”

“Seriously?” The anger in your chest turns to heat, rising up your neck and settling in your face. Your mouth opens, ready to unleash the venom sitting on the tip of your tongue when he stops walking.

“Might as well walk beside me then.”

Surprise melts the words in your mouth as your feet carry you forward until you’re close enough to see the freckles covering his nose. His eyes stay forward as his stride lines up with yours, moving forward at a more relaxed pace. A light breeze rustles the leaves of the Maples lining the street. The sound of your footsteps is interrupted by the occasional passing car.

“You’re in seventh, right? You got Schnider?” He asks, his eyes darting to your face.

“Yeah.” You nod, looking down at your boots.

"Bad luck. She's a real bitch. I had her last year."

Answering with a shrug, you risk a look back at him. Long eyelashes framing big doe eyes, a sweet face he tries to hide with a hard shell. He wears a mask, too.

Your brain’s on overload for the rest of the day—thoughts of the boy coloring away the hours like a secret, overanalyzing every bit of your interaction. When the shrill sound of the final bell rings, you join the current of students, gathering your belongings and exiting the building in a wave.

The fresh air is a welcome escape from the stuffy classroom as you cross behind the school past the football field, heading toward the path through the woods where the boy is lingering just beyond the gate, digging through his pack but coming up with nothing like maybe he had been waiting. Without a word, he falls into step beside you. When you look at him, this time, he meets your eyes. The sunlight flickers through the swaying leaves as your footsteps resonate through the trees as you continue together.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," his voice cuts the quiet air when you reach the front steps of his house, his tone revealing a hint of uncertainty.

"I'll be headed the same way," you answer.

He turns away from you, pausing with his foot on the top step, looking up at his house before looking back at you.

"I'm Eddie, by the way," he offers, his cheeks pinking at the vulnerability his words carry.

"I know," you respond, a small smile gracing your lips as you continue home.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," you mutter, tucking your phone into your clutch and bolting up the marble steps to the second floor of the Kimpton Grey Hotel. Composing yourself as you pass through the lobby and open the double doors into Vol.39. The bar exudes timeless elegance with its dim, warm light shining on the dark-wood accents. Vintage jazz playing through hidden speakers, sounding like smoke and liquor. Everything here is steeped in leather, old money, and sophistication. It's no surprise that Nancy chose it.

"You're late," Nancy says flatly, no amusement in the blue eyes framed by the blunt cut of her black, sleek hair as she glances at her watch with disapproval.

"Sorry." You slide into the open seat on the tufted couch across from her, adjusting the material of your dark emerald midi skirt so the slit wouldn't be showing off too much thigh, "There was traffic." It definitely wasn’t the extra half hour you spent with your feet up on your desk at Stax listening to the new release from Band of Horses.

"This is Chicago. There's always traffic," she counters, keeping her voice low enough that it doesn't travel past the lit bookshelves lined with leather-bound encyclopedias framing the seating area that your friends are currently occupying. "That's why I gave you a time a week ago. So you could plan ahead."

"She’s in a mood," Argyle says from the corner of his mouth, his hair falling around him like a curtain as he leans closer from the velvet upholstered club chair beside you.

"Where's Steve?" Nancy demands, setting down her crystal tumbler on the gray marble table in the center of the space.

"He's not here?" you ask, scanning the bar. "It was Robin’s turn to watch him."

"Me?" Robin exhales from the other end of the couch she shares with Nancy.

"You're his best friend," you point out with a quirk of your brow.

"Yeah, but you're his–"

"I don't know why I bother to organize nights out for all of us if no one is going to be on time," Nancy cuts off Robin, huffing as she crosses her slender arms over her chest.

"It will be fine, Nance," Johnathan reassures, coming back from the bar carrying a flight of martinis he sets down in the center of the table. "Just relax. Everyone's going to be here in plenty of time." He takes the seat beside her, comforting her with his arm around her shoulder.

Nancy and Johnathan have been on again-off again since she left Hawkins for school in Boston. Rekindling their relationship when she moved to Chicago and accepted a position at Spectrum Media, where she still works as their vice-president of content strategy.

"Plenty of time for what?" You ask, leaning forward to choose a martini, picking the Astoria with a knot of lemon.

"There's a mystery guest," Robin says, wriggling her brows and hooking her thumb towards Nancy. “Full of surprises, isn't she?”

"Where's Flora tonight?" You ask Robin, noticing she is without an escort.

"Flora?" She asks, picking up a drink for herself, "That was over a week ago." She dismisses her with a wave of the hand before running it through her wavy blonde streaked locks, "Sadly, she left for a goat herding commune in Sacramento. I've been seeing someone new, a painter named Taylor. She's on exhibit at Magnolia. Her florals are really dreamy." She bites an olive off the end of her toothpick, sighing.

Smiling around the lip of your glass, you shake your head. Robin works as an exhibit coordinator for Magnolia Gallery in Wicker Park, falling in and out of love with artists as quickly as she sells their pieces. You give her credit, she's having fun.

"Did you text him?" Nancy asks, her lips twisting with impatience. The tense clench of her jaw has you setting down your drink and reaching for your clutch with no arguments. "Do you know how hard it was to get this reservation?"

"Then why are we here?" Argyle complains, gesturing around the room while he slumps back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass with the other. "You know I own like six bars, right? No reservations required."

"But then you'd be working," Nancy explains, as Argyle smoothes out his handlebar mustache.

"I'm always working, babe," Argyle says with a smirk, looking the part of a restaurateur and music promoter in his shiny flat-front trousers and short-sleeved silk shirt.

Argyle is a new friend - meaning not from Hawkins. The California transplant, whose family owns a chain of successful pizza restaurants, has breathed new life into the Chicago music scene. Booking up-and-coming acts as well as big names into his bars and venues all across the city. He's a good friend to have, especially in your line of work–a music journalist for Stax the city's premiere music, arts, and culture magazine.

“He’s on his way,” you inform them, setting your phone face down on the table before settling back on the couch.

“On his way or leaving now?” Nancy shakes her head, knowing with Steve it’s probably the latter. “Why didn’t you ride with him?” She asks, turning toward Jonathan.

“I wasn’t in the office today. I was on a shoot,” he says, pulling his arm away from her and setting his drink down harder than necessary, his patience with her at an end.

Jonathan, like you and Steve, works for the conglomerate Second City Media. Nancy likes to think that she permits the three of you to work for her competitor, but Steve had already gotten his foot in the door, securing himself an entry-level position at Metro Sports division before she was even out of grad school. Jonathan had been doing alright freelancing as a photographer, but when Nancy started at Spectrum, Second City recognized their competitor would wind up with an edge and hired him on as full-time staff. Everyone knows it's better for their relationship not to be working in the same place, especially with Nancy as his boss.

“Give us some clues about this mystery guest,” Robin interjects to lower the temperature between the couple, which is ready to boil over.

"Okay, I'm here." Steve comes from behind you, his voice alerting you to his arrival before you see him. His tie is already missing, the first three buttons of his starched shirt undone beneath his midnight blue suit, and his hair tousled from a day of running his hands through.

"Really, Steve? You couldn't be on time just this once?" Nancy scolds him, rolling her eyes.

"Meeting ran late. You know how it is," he leans down to kiss her cheek,"Or maybe you don't. I heard things are a bit slow over there at Spectrum," he teases, earning a smirk from Johnathan.

Steve worked his way up from the sports division to chief content officer for Second City Media. The position puts him just shy of the power Nancy holds at Spectrum, fueling the pair's competitive and ambitious nature until their bickering often drives everyone else crazy.

"Steve," Robin draws his attention before Nancy gets the chance to respond, "About tomorrow–"

"Just a minute, Robin. I haven't gotten to kiss my beautiful wife hello." He steps over Argyle's legs and gives the man a quick handshake in greeting before sitting next to you on the sofa.

"I'm not your wife yet, handsome," you tell him as his strong hands cup your cheeks, tipping your head up toward him.

"But it sounds good, doesn't it?" He asks before soft lips close over yours, his thumb pressing on your chin, asking for access to deepen the kiss beyond the line that's appropriate in front of company.

"Niiiice," Argyle hums as the others snicker. Steve takes a hand off your cheek, holding it in front of you to block some of their views as his mouth moves hotly over yours.

"God, you two are sickening," Nancy's remark is probably accompanied by an eye roll, but you're too occupied to notice as you tighten your grip on the front of Steve's shirt, drawing him nearer.

Four of his fingers curl down, giving Nance a one-fingered message as he continues to kiss you until he's had his fill. Breaking away with a gentle peck. "How was your day today, Ace? Did you write me a Pulitzer?"

"You ask me that every day."

Despite teasing you, he wouldn't be surprised if you had what it takes. That's how much he believes in you. He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips to place a kiss next to the glittering diamond he put on your hand a little over two years ago.

"Excuse you." Robin climbs over Argyle's legs that are still stretched out in front of him, taking up all the space between the chairs and the table, and walks over to the couch, squeezing her way onto the sofa between you and Steve, "Best friend privileges." She winks before launching into a conversation about the next exhibit she's putting together.

"You two crazy kids set a date yet?" Argyle asks at a volume higher than you'd prefer. Raising your index finger to your lips, eyebrows drawing together as your eyes flick over to Steve.

"I'm just making sure my invite didn't get lost in the mail," he says, sipping his drink. "I love weddings, man—all those tiny little versions of regular-sized food. Maybe I should open a restaurant like that, where everything is tiny. Tiny little kebabs and tiki drinks with tiny little umbrellas. I don't know what's taking you so long. You need to make an honest man out of him." His voice grows louder at the end of his sentence, earning him another look from you, a distraction that diverts Steve's attention from his conversation.

The waitress chooses that moment to appear, saving you from another conversation about setting a wedding date. It's not that you don't want to marry him–you do. Someday. Decisiveness has never been your strong suit, along with dressing up in big puffy dresses that look like frosting and being on display for everyone you have ever known and their plus ones.

While Steve squints down at the drink menu, fondness warms you like the opening notes of your favorite song. Reaching across Robin, you tap his chest. He looks over at you as he pulls a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and slides them on his nose.

Your lips move without sound–I love you.

You too, he mouths back. His mossy eyes softening as he smiles just for you.

You're happy. Why change a thing?

“I’ll have an old-fashioned. Top shelf. Please,” Steve tells the waitress after she had gone around taking orders for small plates to share and more cocktails from the others. “Another Martini?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yes, please. An Astoria,” you tell her as she finishes scribbling everything down on her pad and heads off toward the bar to put in your orders.

“The ladies?” You tip your head at Robin, who nods, getting up to follow you. Steve squeezes your hand as you walk by as he continues his conversation with Nancy about the effectiveness of paywalls on digital content.

“God, she’s in rare form,” Robin comments as you enter the empty ladies' room, each of you closing yourself into a stall.

“Are she and Jonathan fighting again?” You ask once you’ve finished up and moved to the sink to wash your hands. The echo of your voices bouncing off the black and white hexagon tiles.

“When aren’t they fighting?” She pulls a few paper towels from the machine bolted to the wall and drys her hands. “It’s like foreplay for them at this point.”

You laugh, checking under your eyes for make-up smears. “Any ideas about this mystery guest?”

“No idea.” She tugs the brass handle of the door open, and you follow her back into the bar. “Maybe her brother?”

“That would be nice,” you say, your boot heels tapping on the dark chevron floors, “He just got married, right?”

“So young, practically still a baby,” she tuts, her head shaking from side to side.

“Robin, he’s not that-”

Robin's hand clamps onto your forearm, a squeal escaping her mouth as excitement radiates through her. She bounces on her toes, leaving you in her wake. Whoever elicited such a reaction is being blocked by Steve and Jonathan. When she gracefully maneuvers past them, you catch a fleeting glimpse of dark curls before the two men shift back into place, obscuring your view once more. The clinking of glasses and chatter from the other patrons swells in your ears. Your feet carry you forward, curiosity resonating like the reverb of a guitar. Steve feels you coming up behind him and shifts to the side. Without warning, rich chocolate eyes are locked onto yours. Eyes you haven’t seen in eleven years when he left you a mixtape instead of a goodbye. The eyes of the man that shattered your heart into so many pieces, all the edges are still sharp.

“Hey, doll.”

The breath trapped in your lungs forms a suffocating bubble, its dull, aching pressure stifling any movement in or out, causing your body to lock in protest. You're tugged forward, unable to fight it, until your body collides with his. The faint but familiar scent of him embraces you, lingering beneath the spicy notes of expensive cologne. Triggering a flood of a hundred painful memories, like songs you’ve overplayed and can’t bear to hear again. They jar your instincts into overriding the shock, compelling you to push him away. Eddie's solid frame absorbs the force. To your relief, the others haven't noticed as you retreat to your seat. Your trembling hand raises your martini to your lips, taking larger swallows than you normally would, but nothing with this situation is normal.

"Desperate times," you mutter under your breath, tipping back your glass. By the time everyone has settled back into their seats, your martini glass stands drained, the lingering taste of its contents bittersweet on your tongue.

Steve directs the waitress to bring another drink for you and a double Mescal for Eddie. The others' voices are a distant buzz in your ears, but their words don't breach the barrier of your thoughts. The chords playing in your mind are more discernible now. Their lyrics printed onto the faded photographs of a boy that you struggle to reconcile as the man before you. He's older, but you are too. His long hair is much shorter, the dark curls a richer brown pushed away from his face. A few lines grace the corners of his eyes and forehead–a reminder of the life he's lived without you.

Steve's comforting hand wraps around your shoulders while the other finds a home sliding between the soft skin where your legs are crossed, exposed by the high slit of your skirt. Eddie's eyes are on you, his stare focused on Steve's big hand covering half your thigh. Your left hand moves on top of Steve's, adjusting to make sure the sparkling rock on your finger gleams with brilliance in the soft, ambient light.

"Well, this is a blast from the past," Robin notes, her voice full of whimsy as she dangles her cocktail glass between two fingers, swaying it gently like a pendulum.

"Aren't you all glad I forced you to come out?" Nancy quips, much more relaxed now that her plan has come to fruition.

"You did good, love," Johnathan murmurs. His fingers tangling with hers before giving her a quick peck.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Steve agrees, "How long has it been, dude? Three, four years?"

"Yeah, I think that was the last time you were in L.A." Eddie scratches at his chin, covered with just enough scruff to almost be a beard.

Steve keeps in touch with Eddie? Had he told you when you hadn't been paying attention to him, your mind wandering with the words you would write for other people's songs?

"Now, I know that I told you only old friends," Nancy says, angling herself towards the plaid upholstered chair that Eddie occupies. "But Argyle knows all the local talent, and I thought he'd be a good connection to have since you're moving here."

"What?" You ask, as if a sudden vacuum has just sucked the air from the room.

"You're moving here?" Robin's eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of all her friends in the same city. She was the original connection that brought you together all those years ago.

"When you say here. You mean Hawkins, right? You're moving back to Hawkins," you clarify.

"No. I mean here. I'm moving to Chicago," Eddie says, leaning back into his chair, his long legs spread in his tailored black suit, the black v-neck underneath giving off a laid-back California vibe. "I told those corporate studio fucks I was done. I'm opening my own place to record music that's actually good, not just the kind that will sell. I'm surprised you don't know all this, doll. Isn't it supposed to be your job or something?"

“Fu–”

"Why Chicago?" Jonathan asks, cutting you off before you let loose a very appropriate response to his question, "Why not stay in L.A. or New York. Aren't there music scenes bigger than here?"

Eddie tips his head to the side, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "You know, L.A.'s lost its charm for me. Too many fake people made out of plastic. And, well, Wayne's not getting any younger. Thought it's about time to be closer, you know?"

“You'd be much closer in Hawkins. Bet you could find a place downtown real cheap. You should go look there.” You cross your arms over your chest, drawing a line in the sand.

“Hawkins doesn’t really scream rock ‘n’ roll, and I already got a place, but thanks,” he says, unconcerned as ever by your tone.

“Look at you two,” Robin says, clapping her hands, “Just like old times, back to your usual banter." Her mischievous grin widens, "Remember when she had that massive crush on you, Eddie? You’d stroll into Musicland during our shift, and she’d follow you around with those big heart eyes.”

Your ears ring as heat rushes up to your neck to your cheeks,the whole world spinning. Eddie looks down, swirling the remnants of gold liquid in his crystal-cut glass.

“You’re exaggerating, Robin,” you sputter, reaching for your drink, hiding behind the lip of the glass, “We were just friends. And it couldn’t have been too major. I don’t even remember it.”

“Oh, come on,” she protests, “Everybody knew.”

"I didn't," Steve's voice cuts through her teasing, leaving an awkward stillness in its wake. The distant sounds of high-pitched laughter and the faint scrape of utensils against plates fill the void. Your friends exchange uncomfortable glances, even though there was no malice in his tone.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, though,” his smile puts everyone at ease. “Right, Ace?” His head dips, brushing your lips in confirmation. You nod as he continues, “Robin, remember when we both went on dates with the same girl. What was her name? Brenda.” His fingers snap with the recollection.

“That’s right, Brenda! Brenda Mackenzie!” Robin laughs and begins to regale the group with the story.

When you lift your eyes, Eddie’s stare remains fixed on you, amusement replaced with an intensity you can’t read. An unfinished sentence or lyric. Words hanging between you like a question that you can't answer—one that you don’t want to.

“I’m going for another drink,” you say to Steve, picking up your empty glass.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks, brows drawing together.

“No, I’m okay,” you tell him with a plastered-on smile, “You want anything?”

He shakes his head no. “I let my car service go early. I’ll drive us home in your car.”

With gentle fingers, you sweep aside a stray lock of hair that's draped across his forehead, planting a tender kiss on his lips before making your way to the bar.

There is a soft creak of the leather as you seat yourself on a high stool in front of the polished wood bar. A bartender with an easy smile takes your order and leaves, giving you a much needed moment alone. Your lungs expand and contract without releasing any tension. You study your reflection in the mirror behind the rows of brightly lit bottles. If you could rewind the tape to a few hours ago, you'd have happily stayed in your office. Calling Nancy tomorrow to grovel for forgiveness for messing up her plans. But you can’t and the song plays on. It’s always the music that hurts the worst.

You release an audible sigh, your breath escaping through parted lips, as he settles onto the stool beside you. With a casual tap of his rings against the bar, he signals for the bartender, raising a single finger, his tongue peeks out, grazing his bottom lip as he gestures toward his empty glass.

"What’s the matter, doll? You really that unhappy to see me?" Eddie drawls, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It’s been eleven years, Eddie. Sorry I’m not organizing a parade." You settle back into your seat, glancing around as if you're bored.

The bartender lowers his eyes as they deliver your drinks and wisely retreats to the far end of the establishment.

"I didn’t come here to fight," Eddie replies, his tone softening. He shifts his weight slightly on the stool, one arm resting casually on the counter, the glint of a gold chain around his neck catching the dim light.

"Then why are you here?" Your eyes narrow as your fingers trace the condensation on the side of the full glass.

"A fresh start. To build something of my own." He looks at you with determination, his dark eyes reflecting the soft glow of the bar lights.

"Then build it somewhere else," you respond curtly, your words laced with frustration. You pick up your drink and down half of it in one go, the chilled liquid leaving a slight burn as it slides down your throat. Setting the glass back down, you turn to leave.

He stops you with a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist, his touch causing your pulse to quicken beneath his fingertips. "There are some things I want to say to you. Let me take you to lunch unless Harrington has got you on too short of a leash."

You pull your wrist back, the feel of his touch lingering like smoke in the air. "Whatever you have to say has waited this long, try again in another decade. Unless you're dying."

"Would it make a difference if I was?" He meets your gaze with amusement playing on his lips.

"Let me think about it… nope." Your reply is quick and sharp, meant to cut.

"I know you're mad–"

"No. Mad would imply some kind of emotional attachment. What I feel is indifference. In case you don't know the definition, that means nothing at all." Your voice stays cool and detached as you hop off the stool. "It's a big city, Eddie. There's no reason we have to see each other again."

"We'll have to see about that," he smirks.

"Have a nice life," you say a final goodbye to your past and turn away, walking in the direction of Steve when he stops you with one more question.

"Did you listen to it? The tape, did you ever listen?"

The lie comes without hesitation.

“No.”

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Read Song 2. here

AN: I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. If you have a song that you think Eddie would have recorded on the mixtape send it to me in an ask and it might be included. Anything before 2001. I'd love to hear from you. Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated.

#steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #torn series #torn #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

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relax-and-read-on · 4 months

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I have not made made a generic hc post about the primarch in a LONG time. I miss it, and it's good for the warhammer tumblr ecosystem. So, without further waiting....

Primarch, and the absolutely shitty gifts they give each others for a White Elephants gift exchange

Roboute: A classic coffee mug (primarch sized!) Filled with sweets and a indestructible fancy fountain pen. The mug say "World Most Okay Dad" on it, and he joke that it apply to them all.

Lion: a stuffed bird. The number of eyes on it is vaguely unnerving. It's unclear wich way is the head suppose to go, and all agree that it's probably an awful mutant bird. Lion is too proud to admit that it's just a really shotty taxidermy he made himself.

Alpharius Omegon: They give a series of mysterious CD in blank case, wich is a very rare and hard to read format on most ship! It's the entire series of MLP:FiM, famous lost media in the 30th millenium.

Rogal: A thick, sturdy, and perfectly elegant multi bit screwdriver, with extra standard bits put in the handle. Give a proud presentation on it, explaining it's superior design and all it's ergonomic features. It's 45 min long.

Perturabo: it's a coupon that say "one (1) construction from me and my legion, free of complaining. Valid until the 31th millenium." It's the most popular gift of the night.

Corvus: slipper and kigurumi, all crow themed. They are *adorable*. Sadly, the size is a bit tight and vaguely indecent on the more muscular primarch.

Lorgar: a traditional colchian tea set, with hand dried craft teas! The set is beautiful, and the teas prove to be only mildly hallucinogenic.

Konrad: A very, VERY pretty embroidered set of throw pillow! They have delicate pattern of flower and nature imagery... And are made with human hair. Konrad is very proud of himself, and even more of the absolute bloody screaming his gift create when he explain it.

Sanguinius: put out by Konrad's gift, but he also made a pillow, but this one filled with his own feathers. Has surprising property against nightmare.

Vulkan: He was actually sweet, and brought homemade hot sauce, his mother's recipe! The problem is that the stuff is so strong, it's considered a dangerous chemical in most of the galaxy. Can be used as jet fuel.

Horus: Edible sexy underwear. Insist that whoever gets it has to wear it, and jokingly say that, if they are too shy, he can do a demonstration himself.

Mortarion: a succulent growing kit. Even his most dumbasses of brother should be able to keep a succulent alive, right? Doesn't mention that it's an highly invasive species that will colonise the entire ship of his poor victime.

Jaghatai: a foal. Yes, he carry a whole ass live animal to the gift exchange, and keep insisting that it's an appropriate gift. The horse is chewing on Magnus' hair.

Leman: Mad that he didn't think of bringing a puppy, but he has the most amazing looking collection of smoked salmon, caviar and preserved fish to offer.

Magnus: his patience is wearing thin, but he still offer a perfectly beautiful robe, that act as an honest to good mood ring and change color depending on the person's aura.

Fulgrim: A painting of himself! Wich is actually a joke, it's just a thin and hand painted decorative paper covering the true gift: a painting of all their family, together. Get called a try hard.

Ferrus: a collection of very pretty crystals and fossils! Wich he arranged in a chocolate box, and explain that those are his favorite flavors.

Angron: A punching bag that even *he* find durable. He made sure of it, by thoroughly testing it before giving it out, wich explain it's used appearance.

I know exactly who gets what..... Yall want to know in a part 2 ;)?

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mamamittens · 5 months

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The Intent Matters

This is part 6/12 of December Event 2023 for @humanoid606

Platonic Yandere Straw Hats & Nonbinary Reader

Warnings: Implied toxic family, child abuse, and murder. Oh, and light yandere undertones.

Word Count: 2,625

There was a chill in the air that mixed with the scent of warm spices. It lingered over your bedding as you buried your nose into your pillow, trying to sleep a little longer. Peace was a bit rare on the Thousand Sunny with the Straw Hat Pirates. So you tried to enjoy it as long as you could. But, as expected, it didn’t last long.

There was a gentle knocking.

“Are you awake, teaspoon?” Your nose wrinkled at the nickname. An odd one for Sanji. But sweet.

A little goes a long way, teaspoon.

“…Yeah. I’m awake.” You called back, receiving an amused huff.

“Get dressed and you can help with the Christmas rolls.” Sanji called. “As a treat.” That got you up and moving. The opportunity to help Sanji cook was rare, the chef protective over his kitchen—understandably with your menace of a captain liable to eat everything if given the chance. You made record time throwing on a sweater and taking care of hygiene. The chill present all on the ship despite the heating working hard. Something Franky was fixing since he apparently didn’t expect this level of persistent cold when originally planning the temperature control.

You nearly stumbled into the kitchen, Sanji smiling at your enthusiasm as he dipped his head towards a bowl.

“Mixing duty?” You asked, already knowing the answer as pre-measured bowls lined the counter. Dough from the looks of it. Sanji moved aside as you washed your hands with a pleased hum, glad you remembered your manners and didn’t touch food with dirty hands.

It was a quiet, pleasant atmosphere as you assisted in making rolls for breakfast and setting aside cookie dough for gingerbread later. Rolling, cutting, folding, and setting them in the oven under Sanji’s watchful eye. He even let you ice them.

“Don’t forget your gift, teaspoon.” Sanji reminded in a hushed tone as he set the food on platters for serving. You looked at him in confusion. Eyes looking around for an answer. It was there, suddenly, on the counter. A small box with a red bow on top. Sanji looking at you in amusement as you lifted the lid.

It was a neatly folded apron and a pair of oven mitts. White with little spoons embroidered on the edges, the front of the apron spelling out in delicate calligraphy ‘Little Helper’. You flushed, glancing at him in surprise.

“W-What’s this all about?” You asked softly. Sanji smiled, taking out his cigarette to tap out the ashes into a tray.

“Your own apron and mitts. You’re welcome in my kitchen anytime, teaspoon. Merry Christmas.” Sanji pulled you into a gentle hug. The unexpected affection lingered for a moment before Sanji pulled away with a wink. Or maybe he just blinked, it was hard to say with his hair still covering the other eye. “Chopper has his own gift for you next. After breakfast, though.”

Breakfast was received with the usual cheer and gusto, particularly from Luffy. He took off his hat and settled it on your head, much to your surprise.

“Merry Christmas—you can wear that today. Just today though!” Luffy declared through a mouthful of bacon and cinnamon rolls. You couldn’t help but smile in shock. Sure, Luffy was generally chill with his crew messing with his hat, but to wear it a whole day?

That was a surprising gift.

When everyone—even Luffy—finished eating, Chopper tugged you away to his office.

“I had to look around for a quality bag to hold it all!” Chopper lamented, “Nothing was good enough! Usopp ended up helping make the bag. Here, your gift!” Chopper offered a box between his hooves. Getting rather excited, you lifted the lid and found a canvas bag inside. A bit smaller than something you’d wear to carry your things in, meant more to be worn by your hip with a belt clip and thigh buckle to support it. You pulled it out, inspecting the soft white fabric with a red cross on the outside.

The bag could detach from the fastenings and unzip in a surprisingly display of ingenuity. Medical supplies carefully secured and labelled on every flap, including a pouch of ‘miracle medicines’ from Chopper’s own stash. Things meant only under dire circumstances. Short of literal surgery, you appeared to be set for anything life on board the Thousand Sunny could throw at you.

“Wow, this is… a lot! Shouldn’t you be the one to have all this though? I only know a little first aid after all.” You asked nervously. Chopper smiled, eyes gleaming with determination.

“Don’t worry, I plan to teach you how to use everything in here to it’s fullest potential! Just in case we’re ever separated, I wanted to know you could take care of yourself—or any of our troublesome crewmates!” Chopper laughed and you smiled. It would be handy to have an extra pair of hands in a medical emergency. “Maybe if you have a knack for it, you can even make your own medicine!”

It was rather heartwarming that Chopper had so much faith in your abilities.

“Thanks, Chopper. I love it.” You hugged him close and he chuffed, returning the embrace without even a hint of fake-disdain that he usually did when embarrassed. “I won’t let you down.”

Chopper clicked his tongue.

“As if you ever could! Now, I believe Franky had something for you next!” You snorted, setting him down.

“Am I going to be going to each of you today to get gifts? If I’d known, I would have gotten you all something too… though I don’t really celebrate.” You trailed off weakly, squeezing the bag as Chopper huffed, knowing what you were referring to.

“We know! Next year you can join in—but this year we wanted to show you that things are different here! Now, off you go!” Chopper gently ushered you out of his office. You left with a smile, taking a moment to secure the bag before going on to find Franky. Likely in the engine room, you’d know when you started to smell soda.

The cyborg was always surrounded by the scent of soda.

As expected, he was messing with the machinery deeper in the ship. Inspecting gears and gauges with an array of tools nearby. After a few moments, you knocked on the wall just loud enough to be heard over the mechanical workings. He jolted, looking back with pleased surprise.

“Oh! Hey there! Here for your gift, right?” Franky jerked his head off to the side against the wall where a colorful box waited. “It’s my part of what Usopp and I have been working on! An attachment for a weapon!” Franky laughed. You opened the box to find what like a thick barrel with a selection wheel around the base. Shapes you vaguely recognized as tool inserts for knuts, bolts, and screws along it.

When you clicked the wheel to what appeared to be a regular screw cross shape, a large piece of metal slid out. The tip of a screw, in fact, though clearly for a very large screw.

“Uh… how often am I meant to run into screws this big?” You asked loudly. Franky laughed.

“There’s a regular sized ones in there too that you can remove! But this is what you might find on bigger machines! You never know when you’ll need to tighten—or loosen—something!” Franky declared cheerfully. “Go to Usopp for the other half!”

“Alright, thanks, Franky!” You laughed, taking the box with you. At the very least Usopp can reuse it for something.

Usopp was in his studio, working on something quietly. He heard you coming in just fine and turned with a wide grin, spotting the rather heavy attachment in your arms.

“Oh! Sooner than expected, but that’s alright! I finished it just a few days ago!” Usopp grinned, standing up to rummage through a closet. He pulled out a pole about as tall as your waist. “It’s got some neat tricks. A taser, light, and even an emergency whistle that can be heard for miles around in a thick forest! And, of course, you attach Franky’s gift on the end here for more engineering problems!” Usopp twisted the top to flip through an electrified prong, a tube with a beam of light, and very briefly a whistle that automatically sounded. It was incredibly loud.

You handed him the attachment and it slid into place easily. Now suitably sized for you to use the oversized tools it gave you. With a flick of his hand, they even altered slightly to turn for you, though the screwdrivers didn’t need to for obvious reasons.

“Neat. Kinda hope I never need any of that though.” You commented lightly. Usopp nodded his head sagely.

“Of course! Of course! Still, I think I speak for everyone when I say it’s better to have it and never need it than to need it and never have it!” Usopp declared. “Like Chopper’s medical bag! Hopefully, you never need to open it for anything but an aspirin for headaches, hah!” Usopp laughed, handing the now sizable staff to you.

You weighed it in your hands, getting a feel for it. It was understandably quite hefty. But also just a little too much to carry around regularly. You weren’t exactly built before joining the crew after all.

“It’s nice but… I’m not sure how I’d use it. Or carry it around all the time.” You admitted quietly. Usopp clapped his hand over your shoulder with a reassuring smile.

“That’s where Zoro and Nami come in! Go to the training room, they’re waiting in there for you!” Usopp declared. Hopeful, if a little nervous, you nodded.

That wasn’t exactly the most reassuring combo you could ask for. But still, you made your way to the training room without any fuss.

Nami spotted you first.

“Oh! There you are! And wow, they really went all out with that staff, didn’t they?” Nami asked, holding out her hand. Despite her slender frame, she whipped it around easily, flicking through the various options with an absentminded nod of her head. “Good. Good. Well, as you may have guessed, we’re going to help train you to wield this! I’ll help with technique and Zoro will help with strength training!” Zoro looked up from his own absurdly large weights and nodded.

“By the time the witch and I are done, you’ll be a terror in your own right.” Zoro added with a grin. “Later, though. For now, here’s our actual gifts.”

Zoro tossed something at you and you nearly fell trying to catch it. It was a pair of fingerless gloves with metal on the knuckles. They fit perfectly and had padding for your hands. As you flexed them, getting a feel for the fabric, Nami placed a pouch in them. It was a bag that looked like an orange slice with the unmistakable weight of money in them.

“An allowance, interest free!” Nami winked. “Don’t spend it all in one place!” She warned.

“Oh. T-Thanks.” You said faintly, a little gob smacked that Nami gave you money. Without expecting it back, even! Out of words to say, you put the bag away. “I… I guess I go find Robin or Jinbe now?” you asked, feeling a little adrift at the unexpected gift giving you’d experienced all day.

“They’re both in the kitchen right now, I think, enjoying some tea.” Nami mused, putting the weapon on the wall. “We’ll keep this here until you’re ready to carry it all day. Wouldn’t want to hurt yourself!”

“Merry Christmas.” You called out faintly as you went to find Robin and Jinbe.

As Nami had said, they were in the kitchen taking a moment to themselves. Sanji likely watching over the helm for Jinbe while he was on break before lunch.

“There you are, dear. Come, join us!” Robin called softly, Jinbe smiling and pulling out a chair for you. “Our gifts are also to be enjoyed at the same time. I imagine you’ve had a surprising day.” Robin commented, gently brushing your back as you sat down. She pushed out a box of tea and Jinbe pushed a journal towards you. Both were clearly high quality.

“To write down your thoughts. It gets pretty chaotic around here. So I thought that you’d like the chance to collect yourself through this.” Jinbe added quietly with a soft smile of his own. The journal was made of dyed leather, ocean blue with waves along the cover and the silhouettes of fish swimming to and fro. On a plate was your name engraved, with a fancy pen slipped into a loop between the covers.

Taking a moment, you pulled out a bag of tea labeled ‘noon’. There was also a section of ‘morning’ and ‘bed’ teas. It smelled zesty and like unfamiliar herbs. Robin assisting in pouring a cup to steep the leaves in. While it did, you flipped open the book to look at the pages. They were completely blank, no lines, so you could sketch if you preferred without any interference. The pages also thick and smooth.

You noticed something sticking out of the top. A scrap of newspaper. Curious, you flipped through the book to find it.

It was a small, cut section from a paper. Dated a few weeks ago. It was terse and professional, expressing the condolences for the passing of…

Your family.

Your eyes watered. After all they’d done to you, it was surprising that you could feel mournful of their passing. But over all of that was the overwhelming feeling of relief. You’d never have to see them again. For real this time. Not a chance they could find their way back in your life to tell you those awful things or drag you into the horrible depression that plagued your every step under their roof.

You looked up at them in shock but they just smiled and drank their tea.

“Shishishishishishishi~” Luffy laughed unexpectedly in your ear. “It was hard to keep it a secret, but Sanji said it would be worth it!” Rubber arms wrapped around you as he hugged you, resting his chin on top of his hat.

“I still say we should have done the same for Sanji.” Robin mused. “At least his father…” she sighed. You could feel Luffy shake his head.

“Nah, seeing Sanji be the best cook in the world is better. Let that bitter ass stew in failure… if he tries another ‘whole cake’ again though, Sanji will just have to suck it up.” Luffy denied ominously. “You’re ours, but as long as they were alive, you’d always be on the look out for them. Afraid of the chance they’d show up and take you back. And now they won’t. Captain’s orders.”

You could hear the rest of the crew respond in kind as they came into the kitchen. Sanji entering your field of view to pull out his knives, ostensibly to cut up meat for lunch but the metal gleamed with warning in the light.

“Captain’s orders.”

There was an unfamiliar and almost oppressive weight to those words. Like there was another layer to the order.

You’re never leaving. Captain’s orders.

But you strangely didn’t feel threatened. They didn’t want to lock you in a room or beat you for ‘ruining things’. You were wanted here. Very much. They wanted you safe. They wanted you happy. And they were willing to go to extraordinary lengths to do it.

You should be afraid. But you weren’t. You relaxed in your chair as Luffy laughed softly above you. Hand over his arm as you finally responded.

“Captain’s orders…”

You weren’t going anywhere. Why would you?

#December Event 2023 #one piece #one piece yandere #platonic yandere #straw hat crew #monkey d luffy #robin one piece #one piece franky #one piece nami #ronoroa zoro #black leg sanji #one piece usopp #one piece jinbe #reader insert

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eva-knits12 · 5 months

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Going to Hobby Lobby with Chris Evans characters

Steve Rogers

You need to go to Hobby Lobby.

Steve goes with you.

He's never been to Hobby Lobby.

When he walks through the doors, he's overwhelmed.

He's never been to a craft store.

You go to the yarn department, and get the yarn you need to make a baby blanket for your cousin's baby shower.

You also get some yarn to make a baby sweater and some booties.

Steve goes to the art department.

He sees colored pencils, drawing pencils, paints, watercolors, sketchbooks, canvases, even really cool paint markers.

He buys gets a few sketch books, and some colored pencils, and some drawing pencils.

You go to the checkout, and you even get a moon pie and a caramel pecan cluster.

Steve wants to come back to Hobby Lobby, but you have no plans to go anytime soon.

You go back to get some yarn to make a sweater for yourself.

Steve comes with you to buy even MORE sketchbooks, and even some more drawing pencils and colored pencils.

Checking out gives Steve that sense of nostalgia.

No scanners, no electronic stuff, except for the credit card reader.

He remembered everyone having to key in prices and discounts by hand when he was growing up in the 1920's and 1930's.

He chats with the cashier and tells her that you don't see that kind of thing anymore.

Steve LOVES going to Hobby Lobby.

Ransom Drysdale

Ransom has been to Hobby Lobby, but not with you.

He wants to get some things for his man cave and for your craft room.

He goes, and takes you.

It's the annual yarn clearance sale, and you get enough to make a blanket, a sweater, and some other things, too.

You and Ransom get some things for your upcoming wedding.

The center pieces that you find aren't too tacky, in fact they're perfect glass vases.

You also get a set of coffee mugs.

Ransom also gets a few blank mugs, and decides to try painting them.

He also gets some woodworking supplies.

He loved pushing you in your wheelchair while you went shopping.

You both love this store, and it's great.

Ransom and you are both agnostics, so Ransom felt iffy about going to a store that is Christian based.

Ransom and you find more stuff for your upcoming wedding, your house, and some really nice decor items.

Colin Shea

Colin and you love going to Hobby Lobby.

They have plain onesies that you can paint, embroider, tie dye, etc.

You and Colin get several, because you're hosting your best friends baby shower.

Harper sits in the cart, and gives her input.

Getting Harper to sit in the cart was a struggle, but you put Lamb Lamb in the cart, and now she's snuggling Lamb Lamb.

"Ya", when you show her the pink ones.

"Ya," when you show her some white ones.

Colin gets some stuff for his man cave.

He gets some stuff for your home office/craft room.

You get some yarn, and Harper helps by giving her input again.

When she feels some soft yarn, she wants to also snuggle it.

When it comes time to check out, Colin and you unload the cart.

You then get dinner at the Wendy's because the trip took longer than expected.

Harper loves the frosty, along with her chicken nuggets and fries, and her milk.

You and Colin get bacon cheeseburgers, fries, and lemonade.

You get home, and unload your haul.

Andy Barber

Andy and you go to Hobby Lobby to get a few things for Joy's nursery.

They have pics of flowers, which you get.

You even get some yarn named after flowers in order to knit Joy a blanket and a matching sweater and matching booties.

You also plan on crocheting a blanket with a matching sweater and matching booties, so you buy some more flower themed yarn.

Joy's nursery will be a nice spring garden theme,

Andy also finds things for his workshop, and his home office.

You also get some throw pillows for the living room, and some spring themed items for the living room.

For Joy's baby shower, you stock up on onesies and acrylic paint.

Andy won't let you lift ANYTHING!

"Sweetheart, let me get that. You shouldn't be lifting anything."

You and Andy checkout, and it takes longer because the cashier has to put everything in by hand.

When you guys get home, Andy helps you into the house, and helps you to the couch.

He puts your feet up.

He goes back to the Audi and gets all the bags, since Andy won't let you carry anything.

Joy's baby shower is next week.

Andy orders Chinese for dinner since you're craving it right now.

Andy and you eat, and after you eat, Andy gives you foot rub, and a back rub.

You start to fall asleep, and Andy helps you to bed.

Jake Jensen

Jake and you go to Hobby Lobby to make a scrap book that will be dedicated to the twins.

You also get some yarn to make some booties and matching sweaters for the twins.

You also get yarn to make blankets for the twins.

You also find some stuff for the twins nursery.

Jake finds some really cool video game themed stuff for his home office/game room/man cave.

Jake calls it his dad cave.

You can't help but laugh.

Every day, you fall more in love with this sweet goofball.

You go back to get some stuff for the baby shower with the twins.

You also find some really cool soccer themed stuff for your niece and your nephew.

When you checkout, Jake thinks that it's time consuming that the cashiers have to put in the prices by hand.

The cashier explains that it's the CEO that did this, because the CEO wanted to put "people over computers."

Jake thinks that's BS.

You also find that puzzle mat for your mom.

You also find some stuff for the wedding.

You get Jake a mug that says "MR." and a mug that says "Caution: Will tell dad jokes" and a beer mug that says "Dad Juice."

Jake gets you a mug that says "MRS." and a mug that says "Caution: Will do mom things" and wine glass that says "Mom Juice".

You and Jake get pizza for dinner.

Frank Adler

You and Frank go to Hobby Lobby to look for wedding items.

Your mom, dad, cousins and sister-in-law insist on throwing you a bridal shower, but right now, you and Frank are just taking things one day at a time.

Mary has fun because she found some puzzles.

You find some stuff for the house.

You even find some yarn, and want to knit a lapgan for the retirement home.

You also find some stuff for your nephew, who loves drawing.

You get your nephew some colored pencils, drawing pencils, and a sketchbook.

You also get Frank a woodworking kit.

A few people ask for your autograph, and you oblige.

You're an actress, and moved back to your hometown because LA was too shallow and just not for you.

You and Frank steal kisses in between walking the aisles.

You also get some decor for the house that you and Frank will be moving into after the wedding.

You pay for your purchase.

You and Frank watch a movie with Mary.

This is heaven.

Johnny Storm

Johnny and you go to Hobby Lobby to get scrapbooking stuff.

You both want to create a scrapbook for Jake's first year.

You also want to create a scrapbook for your wedding.

You also want to create a scrapbook of all of your couple moments.

You also get some yarn to make a sweater and booties for Jake.

Johnny gets some stuff to help decorate his mancave.

Along with a "Caution: Will tell dad jokes" mug.

You get some knitting supplies.

You check out, and Jake is sound asleep in the cart.

You place everything in the car, and then you place Jake in the car.

When you get home, Jake unloads the haul, and you put Jake in his crib, after you've changed his diaper.

You and Johnny unload everything in the morning.

You and Johnny eat dinner and fall asleep.

#chris evans #hobby lobby #steve rogers #ransom drysdale #andy barber #frank adler #johnny storm #knitting #woodworking #scrapbooking #fluff #decor #man cave #baby shower #wedding

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littlefluffbutt · 1 year

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SALE POST

Our oven died and we have some upcoming bills looming so I’m selling some things I’ve made; I take paypal and am located in the US. I will ship internationally but keep shipping costs in mind.

All crocheted yarn items are made with 100% acrylic yarn and stuffed with polyfill.

Dinosaurs approx 6″ tall or long. Stegosaurus and Triceratops (the ones on either end) are $15 each the rest are $12 each. Take all six for $75

Mermaid with fish friend $20 The fish is separate; I’ve just tied it to her hand so it won’t get lost lol. Her face is done with embroidery floss. Top is not removable.

Variegated sea creature bag $55 comes with octopus, crab, fish, lobster and bait bag to carry them in. most are around 5-6″.

sea creature bag $55 comes with octopus, crab, fish, lobster and bait bag to carry them in. most are around 5-6″.

Lobsters! Large ones are $12 and have bead eyes; small ones have embroidered eyes and are $10. I have small red and large red, blue and camo ones ATM but I can do them in other colors too.

LeisureArts 268 outfits (from L-R)

top row purple and pink dresses with hats and purses $35 each; wedding dress and veil $30, purple variegated dress and hat $35 (blue dress not for sale)

Bottom row: blue coat with hat and brown coat $15 each; jacket and skirt set $20, red PJs $25 with doll, $20 without (doll has bangs cut), 4 piece poncho outfit $20, blue top and shorts $8 (doesn’t fit anyone well), green jumper $8 (fits 80′s Skipper) ballet outfit $8 (fits early Skipper)

Doll house items from The Attic pamphlet $150 for the set OR

Wedding dress and mannequin, veil, and bouquet $50. Dress can NOT be removed from mannequin. Back of dress had to be widened to fit the mannequin.

Couch/bench with two gold throw pillows, trunk and yellow rug: $30

Checkered quilt or pinwheel quilt $20 each

Baby dolls $15 each

Teddy $10

Hat box set with hats (red bowler and yellow sunhat) $20

corset : (not made to fit anyone) $10

If you have any questions/requests message me:) Thank you!

#sale #crochet #Barbie #doll clothes #toys #lobster #crab #fish #octopus #doll furniture

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sanchi-home · 14 days

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0 notes

itsnickgalitzine · 4 months

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joyeux noël et bonne année, seasons greetings, happy holidays! been a tad busy with travels, seeing those i haven't much and getting used to events and stuff again. however, i had to send something anyway. you've helped make my life fun, i appreciate knowing you and hope to have you around next year. all my best, nicholas galitzine

for taylor @therestayzakhar - long distance pillow, face creams, picnic kit, diy chocolate, bucklist travel book, desert subscription service

for hendery @hvnderys - mug & cookies & hot chocolate bomb, ramen bowl, british treats, hedgehog succulent pot, bread coasters

for soobin @socbins - drink openers, crystal growing lab, coca cola ornament, necklace, coffee mug

for lucy @hale-raiser - glowing gummy bears, t-shirt, crystal advent calender, british treats, fish rod but for campfire cooking

for joey @joeykvng - snoop dog cookbook, movie night kit, bracelet, a pair of socks

for joel @joelcourtncy - bread coasters, poster, lazy af throw blanket, tiny hands, hype button

for flo @florenvcepugh - kermi mug, icee maker, drinking card game, bluetooth banana phone, misfortune cookies

for miley @milcycyrus - keychain you can add pictures of nova and you know, personalized plate to honour your and awsten's anniversary, non-alcholic drink, christmas gift box

for vanessa @queenvh - candle holders, sleep mask, bluetooth karaoke mic, coffee mug, murder mystery puzzle & game

for sarah @hf-sarahhyland - gourmet milk & dark chocolate, at home facial, hammock chair, wine preservation, self cleaning water bottle

for sabrina @carpenterbrinas - tiktok based light, desk orgainzer, birthstone bracelet, smores in a jar, flowers subscription

for maxence @famemaxence - shirt, the secret box, homemade gin kit, luxury robes, shakespare insults mugs

for louis @lw-tomlinson - harry potter light, cocktail kit, monster cookies in a jar (recipe on the jar), bracelet of your favourite sports team, retro mini fridge

saying their friends, if that's cool, through taylor aka his birthday twin of course

for tom @tcmhcll - harry potter hat, a way to help you find your keys and wallet, custom connect four, grilled cheese toaster, hot cocoa in a jar

for nat @thatnattyice - pajama set (got you two sets for during and after your pregnancy), necklace, non-alcholic wine, personalized kids apron, kids & todders toys subscription

for bruna @brunamrqzn - lamp, personal smoothie maker, electric smores maker, perfume, best scented candles

for taylor @tylrswfts - a way to lounge in the tub, personalized initials bracelet, embroidered bookmarker, remote control string lights, compliment pencils

for kaia @kaia-gerbcr - british treats, custom mug set for you and austin, warm comforter, 100 scratch off date ideas, peppermint pappering

for carrie @carrieunderwccd - win holder, wine glasses, rainbow wall hanging, essential oil diffuser

for lily @lilyjxmes - cookies, a heat changing mug, flower clock, snow cone maker, vegas gift basket

#gifts; tba #gifts; giving a piece of my heart to you #friends; the best of the best with friends til the end #[ see any repeat gifts.. no you didn't as this was a lot to do ]

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itneverendshere · 1 year

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"this love came back to me" - vii

Pairing: Sunghoon!AU x Reader

Summary: sunghoon never stopped loving his best friend's older sister. even when you broke his heart. even when you left. will he finally let you go or will you finally open up your heart to him?

Chapter word count: 2.017k

CHAPTER WARNINGS: more angst!; childhood friends; cute; bff!YUNJIN!; heartache; slowburn; flirty sunghoon; cursing; sunghoon's arms

vii. warm summer

Some days, when there’s this pressure of something inside you, like a ticking bomb, you need to let it out…let it explode somewhere safe.

You always tend to go somewhere, well to someone, where it can’t do lasting damage. And that’s why you have a Yunjin. That’s why she has you.

You never considered yourself a person with a large group of friends. Sure, you’ve met lots of people, your high school was huge, and London was an entirely different, much bigger, scenario. It was practically impossible not to meet new people every year, in every class, but you rarely considered yourself friends. Most of them were acquaintances.

Every time you need, or needed, to vent, you call Yunjin up even if she’s miles, or just blocks away. When you call her or ask her to come over, she knows what's coming. She’s always known. Ever since 8th grade.

Most times it isn't an exchange, well, not in the same session. You get to talk, yell, and cry for hours, bearing your lungs out and being either a vengeful bitch of fury or a sad broken-hearted girl. And she’ll sit there, nodding in the right places. Only when you’re done venting does she ask you if you’re ready to listen to her perspective.

Her job is to tell you how the other side likely felt in your stories, what fears and insecurities may have motivated them, and tone you down rather than egg you on (sometimes she does the opposite). Then you go back home and think things through. Sometimes Yunjin is right, and sometimes she's wayyyyyyy off.

She’s just the same, she calls you, texts you, and you go. She vents, and you listen. Maybe that's why you’ve been friends for so long.

You’ve always been each other's emotional support. No one knows her secrets or yours. You two have always been easy with honest advice, carefully phrased not to cause harm, because there’s enough of that out in the world already.

You lay sink into the couch, air conditioner on. Today feels like a sauna, the kind of weather that invites restfulness and hiding from the scorching heat outside.

Yunjin sits right next to you, you’ve spent the day catching up. While you’ve been away, she’s moved to the US, you barely get to see her now, but she visited you as much as she could, and now, she’s back home for the summer. All you’ve done so far is chat, vent, and laugh.

For several sweet months, you won’t have to count down the days to see her again, you can be honest and get heartfelt advice 24/7, with no time zone getting in between you two. It’s the release valve you both need and though you bore no relation, you’ve always regarded one another as sisters.

“So, let me get this right,” Yunjin straightens up, shoulder now firm against yours, “You actually talked things through with Sunghoon?”

“Define things.”

She gives you an owlish, knowing look, “It didn’t even take you two idiots twenty-four hours to crawl back to each other.”

You force yourself into a brief, small smile before turning to look at her again, “We just realized we were both in the wrong and decided to solve things, you know, like adults.”

“Like adults?” She raises a blonde brown right back at you, all swagger now, “Did you finally confess your undying love and jumped him?”

The pillow you instantly throw to her face was embroidered by your mother’s loving hand, “Yunjin!”

You quickly scanned the room, your face flared red like the ketchup slathered all over the fries sitting on the dining table.

“What?”

“You know it’s not like that.”

Her expression transforms in a split second, swarming you with a feeling of warm encouragement. She sets her phone down on the coffee table, and shifts even closer to you, “Sweetie pie, love of my life, I need you to stop lying to yourself.”

There’s no malice lacing her words whatsoever, you know it comes from a place of love. Just her typical pure kindness and bluntness.

“It’s complicated,” you find yourself whispering into the silence of your home, “I’ve only been back for a week. I barely had any time to think all of this through, it’s been years since—“

“That’s bullshit,” she smiles warmly even though she just cursed. Even so, she radiates so much softness that you can’t even scold her for swearing, “You knew you had feelings for him before.”

“Yunjin,” your posture falters, “I can’t just walk back into his life? I broke his heart.”

She squeezes your shoulder firmly, never breaking eye contact with you, “You broke yours too. And people make mistakes, our brains aren’t even fully developed yet, right? We’ve grown since then, he has too.”

Your defenses shoot up again.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say, squinting, “Two years ago, that was two years ago.”

“You’re really tempting me to knock some sense into you,” She stares at you incredulously, “Physically.”

The memory of the last time she did it rushes through you so violently it’s almost ridiculous.

“I just don’t see why we need to bring this up,” You shrug, seeming to be playing obliviously.

“Because you clearly still have feelings for him? You’d never cry in his arms the second you got back if you didn’t,” She starts, making you furrow your brows. You understood things between you and Sunghoon clicked…a little too fast, “I know you felt something for him back then and you still do now.”

The sight that escapes your lips is slow, you jutt your bottom lip out, redirecting the airflow to your hair, and for that moment, you resettle your eyes on Yunjin. Your silence says enough to her. She pouts at your dejected expression and quickly wraps you up in a careful hug, skewed sideways so she can press her cheek to the top of your head. You go limp quickly, melted by her affections and words.

“I just want you to be happy.”

“I am.”

“But I want to know when it hurts,” She insists, “I know you’re scared, but think about it. You’ve got an entire summer sweetie pie, don’t let it go to waste.”

You remember being fourteen and Sunghoon reaching his confidence peak at the young age of twelve. Back then, he was convinced he could take over the world if he tried hard enough. He’d always know what to say to make you laugh.

“I’m going to marry you, someday.”

You’d snorted and rolled your eyes, your hand smacking the back of his head because this was Sunghoon. He was one of your closest friends, your little brother’s best friend and he was a stupid boy with a stupid amount of confidence.

But suddenly you were both older and he was still your best friend. He had ice in his veins, the entire north pole in his skin, and a map of the whole world hardwired into his brain. He looked at you with, love, fondness and adoration, a little heat, and too much playfulness to be taken seriously. The beauty marks on his face, the one on his nose, were so endearing that you couldn’t help but soften, despite yourself

You had feelings for him. And the worst part of it all? You only realized it when you moved across the globe. Which was honestly pathetic. You’ve always considered yourself a smart person, but it took losing him to someone else to understand just how deeply you cared.

“I hated it. All of it, in London,” You muttered into her shoulder, “I loved the freedom and not having to overthink everything all the time, but I hated everything else. I hate that I was too late.”

You’re rambling now, all nonsense and tight breaths.

“I hate that I didn’t speak to him the entire time and that I lied to you over the phone, and that I overcomplicated everything.”

Yunjin’s hand is rubbing soothing circles on your back, “It’s okay,” she whispers back quietly, “It’s going to be okay.”

It stops your rambling. You seem to go still in her arms and then, unwillingly, reluctantly, you pull back.

“What if it’s too late?”

She shakes her head slowly, squeezing your shoulder firmly and never breaking eye contact with you, “It will never be too late for you and him. If there’s something I’m certain of, it’s you and him.”

Suddenly, you can hear them before you see them, which it’s not out of the ordinary. You’re more than used to them being loud, especially when they’re all together, you know that too well. You follow the noise from the sitting room all the way to the front door. You know your conversation with Yunjin ends there.

Your brother walks through the front door, basketball in his hand, head tilted back as he lets out the most obnoxious laugh of his life. And right behind him, follow the boys and him.

“Jakey boy!” Yunjin cheers, in hopes of dismissing the current depressing mood that fills up the room, before any of them take notice, “All these years and you still sound like a car engine?”

“Shut the fuck up blondie.” Jake groans, he might be blushing. You might also be imagining it.

You bite your lip, eyes everywhere but on Sunghoon, waving as a greeting to everyone. But you see him move closer, from the corner of your eyes, he startles you a bit but you don’t let it show. He knows you well enough to tell. He sits on the arm of the sofa you’re at, and you try not to act too affected when he sets his hand on your thigh, palm flush with the hem of your shorts.

“Hey, pretty.”

His hair is slicked-back and shiny, probably from running his hands through it the entire afternoon while playing. He does it a lot. Especially when it comes to sports. His competitive side still gets the best of him.

Your breathing becomes softer, the pensive look melting into a smile as soft as the afternoon light.

“Hi.”

Sunghoon’s well-defined muscular arms, much more defined than what you remember, are on full display for any eye that shows interest. The tight muscle tee really defines his body, more than it should. Not that you're complaining, but you also shouldn't be staring.

Jake raises his head, and his eyes roll as if the whole world, especially you two, are too much effort to take in, “Don’t mind me, just feel like emptying my guts.”

“Charming,” Yunjin chimes in, sarcasm flooding her voice, “Wonder how you’re still single.”

You know she’s only doing it to take the wandering eyes and attention from you and Sunghoon.

"If you keep frowning like that your face is going to stick," Sunghoon whispers into your ear. He slides his hand over your lower back as you continue to stare, arms crossed, at your brother.

"You smell, go take a shower,” You turn towards him and his hand slides to the flesh of your hip, squishing twice, gently, “I’m serious, another minute and I’ll force all of you under the shower.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Hoon,” you scold, but he can tell you’re fighting a smile. Perhaps his tall, well-formed, glowing skin soaking up all the light in the room was messing with your head. Perhaps.

He nods very seriously, “What about saving water?”

That earns him an eye roll from all the boys and a tug at the corner of your mouth. For some reason, you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed by his flirting in front of everyone.

“You can shower with Jay and Heesung”, you drone, “Most neglected boys on the planet.”

“Hey!” Heesung protests, already midway through the stairs, “Don’t drag me into this, I’m here for the free food.”

“So, you don’t want to shower with me?” Jay grins boyishly, dropping his things the moment Heesung shoots a glare in his direction, preparing to run for his life.

It’s good to be home.

______________________________________________________________

new character introduction: YUNJIN. I love her, she seems like such a free and charing soul that I felt like she'd be the perfect kpop girl to introduce to the story as the bff. I managed to update earlier than I initially thought, but I can't promise I'll do it again anytime soon cause I do have to start studying properly.

hope you enjoy the angst and fluff combination of the chapter :D and also the big lil important reveal of y/n's feelings ehehe bYE

TAGLIST:

@iloveoceaneyesss

@tobiosbbyghorl

@stinkoscope

@pshchives

if you want to get tagged on future chapters comment down below or send me a message, thank you :)

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meowzfordayz · 1 year

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as you wish

Nanami Kento x Reader

Word Count: ~600

CW: none

When you tell Kento you want to host a party—cornering him in the hallway between the bedroom and bathroom, mouth stubbornly set, nose almost touching his shirt—he barely bats an eyelash before nodding slightly, gentle thumb catching the edge of your jaw, tone carefully enamored, “As you wish.”

A quiet huff vibrates along the invisible thread linking your body to his, skeptical eyebrow quirked, “As I wish?”

Nodding again, he presses the entirety of his palm to your cheek, breath held as you stand frozen, “When you accepted my invitation to live with me, this space became yours as much as it was already mine.”

Swallowing an undignified squeak, you spin abruptly, toes scrunched in your fluffy socks.

“Well okay then!” pouting faintly.

“Well okay then,” he murmurs, adoring smile following your twirl and exit as you stalk toward the kitchen.

—

A tidy stack of plates, rows of glasses, and a tray of shining silverware lay on one end of the dining table; a variety of liquors, bitters, and an assortment of fresh fruits—cutting board, recently sharpened knife, and filled ice bucket included—displayed on the other end. The entryway’s rug rests flat and freshly vacuumed, crystal fishbowl brimming with caramel and strawberry candies sitting atop the nearly empty three tiered shoe rack. Throw blankets and embroidered pillows decorate the living room’s couches, crackle glazed coasters, flickering candles, and an impressive charcuterie board making up the coffee table’s centerpiece.

“What if nobody comes?” you slump, wooden countertop warm on your bare forearms, languid heat from the oven seeping through to your thighs and shins.

“Trust me,” a low voice interrupts your panic, hands delicate on your hips, “Everybody will come,” gripping tenderly, guiding your flushed skin away from the oven, “After all,” click as the oven light turns on, familiar figure squatting to peer through the soot smudged window, “I baked bread for the occasion,” teasing fingertips brushing behind your knee, fond chuckle caressing the base of your spine as you stumble, “Not to mention, nobody would forego the opportunity to observe Nanami Kento in his natural habitat.”

—

Affection clings from his chest to your back, his sturdiness cradling your cheerfully drunken frame as you hiccup, legs dangling off his lap, bright eyes illuminating his soul.

“Is everyone having fun?” you mumble, head tilt accompanied by the dopiest of grins.

Gazing upward, he meets the amused stare of Gojo Satoru—who promptly gives him a thumbs up, a plump grape covering aforementioned thumb—and sighs, pulse quickening as you sink into the fleeting sound, tugging his arms tighter around your waist, your own sigh entwining with his.

“Absolutely,” he exhales slowly, “We might have to refill the grapes soon.”

“Don’t leave me,” you whine, eyes dimming, raising his wrist to your lips.

“Kiss me,” he rasps, composure melted under the forwardness of your movement, the knot in his stomach Ignite my soul.

“But the grapes?” you gasp.

“Whatever,” he scowls, strong forearm keeping you in place.

You giggle Don’t leave you? love soft and moist as you fulfill his wish How could I? resigned to his fate as your couch cushion for the remainder of the evening I could never.

—

“Can you even feel your feet anymore?” Satoru snorts, gesturing vaguely at your sleeping form sprawled across Kento.

“No.”

“There are no more grapes.”

“Hm.”

“Great party, delicious bread,” Satoru winks.

“Okay.”

“Seriously though, the grapes are gone.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

“What was that, Nanamin?”

I love you.

“Nanamiiin.”

I love you.

“Fine! I don’t like grapes anyway!”

I love you.

#kento nanami #nanami kento #kento x reader #nanami x reader #drabble #jujutsu kaisen

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weiying-lanzhan-fics · 1 year

Text

it's always open by ScarlettStorm

Absolutely amazing!

LZ’s inner monologue was such perfection. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

His inner voice is witty, endearing, petty, hilarious - just read it! 😁

Quotes:

Lan Zhan is already in his pajamas, but he sets aside his book and swings into action. He knows from experience that “incoming” means Wei Ying’s rideshare has turned onto his street, which also means he has exactly the right amount of time to put the kettle on and steam one of the sweet red bean paste buns he keeps in his freezer for times such as this. By the time the knock on his door happens, Wei Ying’s guest slippers are waiting for him neatly in the entryway, and Lan Zhan has the steamed bun and a mug of the horrible cinnamon ginger herbal tea Wei Ying likes waiting on the coffee table closest to the side of the couch with the taco-shaped throw pillow that Wei Ying bought him as a joke and now ends up absentmindedly cuddling every time he comes over.

(Lan Zhan has his Wei Ying surprise evening visit preparations down to a science at this point. He is aware that this is not the way most people treat their friends, even their best friends, and actively chooses not to care.)

——

“Well, he has a point,” Wei Ying says seriously. “Nie Mingjue is a catch.”

“As ge makes clear to me at every opportunity,” Lan Zhan says in the long-suffering deadpan that he’s learned Wei Ying finds amusing. Wei Ying laughs again, the sound bright and too-short, causing a flare of satisfaction deep in Lan Zhan’s chest that mellows back into gentle concern. “Are they… disappointed?” he asks carefully, deciding to risk a more direct question in the wake of the laughter.

“They’re sure not appointed,” Wei Ying grumbles in something close to his usual sense of humor. He frowns. “Hey, can you be appointed?”

Lan Zhan considers that. “One can be appointed to a position.”

Wei Ying nods. “Yeah, okay, so being disappointed is the feeling of bummerhood that comes when you don’t get appointed to the position you want?”

“That makes a certain amount of etymological sense,” Lan Zhan allows. He pauses there and fixes Wei Ying with a flat look. It’s time to be blunt. “You are avoiding the question.”

“I was going on a fun verbal tangent, something you normally love to join me on,” Wei Ying insists, looking extremely put-upon. He sets his mug aside and picks up the taco pillow, scowling at the embroidered smiling face. “Everyone’s ganging up on me tonight but you, El Taco.”

E, 60k

Summary:

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I dunno,” Wei Ying says, offering up a smile that’s small but genuine. “Can you rewire my brain so I don’t panic when people want to kiss me?”

“I do not believe so,” Lan Zhan says with exaggerated mournfulness. (Most people would not be able to tell he was doing so, but most people are not Wei Ying.) It would normally get him a laugh, or a snort, or his favorite, a snort laugh, but Wei Ying doesn’t respond. He just sits there and stares at Lan Zhan like he’s doing extremely complicated math in his head and choreographing a nine-person dance number at the same time.

“Lan Zhan,” he starts, a light sparking in his eyes and his voice coming out rushed, “Lan Zhan, could you—would you be okay with—”

“Breathe,” Lan Zhan orders gently, squeezing Wei Ying’s hand again.

Wei Ying rolls his eyes but obeys, inhaling deeply and re-centering himself before he looks Lan Zhan full in the face, shoulders square and chin up. “Will you kiss me?” he asks, like that’s a reasonable thing to ask and not the culmination of over a decade of Lan Zhan’s specific, secret, fervent dreams.

Or: A journey of self discovery... and the inevitable emotional fallout.

@scarlettohairdye

#wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #wangxian fic rec #the untamed fic #the untamed fanfiction #untamed fic #mdzs fic #modern au #mdzs fanfiction #lz pov

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years

Text

Red || Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Natasha was your everything and you would do anything to hold on to her, even if it goes against natures law. Warnings: 18+ only, ANGST, grief, allusion to suicide watch, psychiatric hospitalisations, use of magic. Dr Strange: MoM spoilers WC: 2k

Red. The description was such an understatement that it left your brain straining to find a better word. The colour of her hair was a living being, it changed with every passing ray of light: ruby one moment, garnet the next. It glimmered in the morning sun as the silken strands slipped through your fingers, the colour your second favourite in the world next to her lips.

“Are you going to just stare at me or actually give me a good morning kiss?” She asked, the lips that had caught your attention curling up into an enticing smile.

“I’m allowed to stare at my beautiful wife if I want to.” You chortled.

“So you don’t want to kiss me then.”

Her lips poured and you shook your head with a laugh. “That is not what I said. I want nothing more than to kiss you. Actually, that’s a lie…”

Your fingers trailed along her curves and under the sheets that bathed her body as you indulged in the taste of her lips. Her sultry laugh teased your skin and she tipped her head back so you could kiss the length of her neck.

You knew her scars like the back of your hand, remembered the stories of every single one that she shared within the comforts of your room. The dozens of memories were permanently marked into her skin in a code that only you could decipher, but she was the key. She was your puzzle, the missing pieces that when put together made a perfect picture.

“I miss you.” You whispered to her heart as you listened to it beat beneath you head. A flash of pain splintered behind your eyes and you groaned as you pulled away.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Nat asked as she sat up and cupped your cheek.

“Nothing, this is perfect.” You promised, placing your hand over hers and feeling the warmth radiating from it. “I, I don’t know what that was but it’s gone now. You’re still here, with me.”

“Always.” She smiled, pushing you back to the mattress so she could climb on top. “I’ll never leave you.”

A red mist blurred your vision, as the pain in your head returned tenfold, panic setting in as Natasha began to fade like smoke on the wind. Your terror broke from your throat and the cry of a banshee wailing for her lost lover echoed the room until you had nothing left. No voice, no Nat.

See you in a minute.

She was gone again. Your arms were as empty as your heart without her. You looked around the walls that held her memory, the photos taken on your wedding day sitting behind broken glass, barely hanging on as the weight of the image threatened to drag it down. Her hair still clung to her ugly pillow that you buried your face into, hoping to suffocate in her lingering essence. The embroidered llama pillowcase mocked you as it smiled but you could never throw it away, Nat had loved it for some unbeknownst reason.

Forgive me.

As Mount Wundagore rose above Wanda she cast her magic out one last time, remembering she wasn’t the only one who had been enthralled with the power of the Dark Hold. Whispering her apology to the icy wind that whipped her hair, she prayed it found its way to you before the magic was lost forever.

Your vision seemed clouded, the walls around you blurring as you struggled to fight against the need to sleep. You could not bear to close your eyes again, the memories that assaulted you running on repeat as they broke you more than you thought was possible. Every time you blinked you heard her voice, saw her smiling as she waved to you. See you in a minute.

The minutes had turned to hours, hours turned to weeks. It had been months but the pain never ceased. Then the answer came with a static whisper, a calling that gave you hope. You followed the beacon and found Wanda with the answer to your hopelessness. She gave you something no one else could, time with Natasha.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Mrs Romanoff.” A familiar voice sounded close by and you tried to look but your head was so heavy it just lolled listlessly to the side. “What happened?”

“A couple of firefighters pulled her out of a fire at the old Avengers Compound.”

“Is she alright?” Stephen asked, concerned. “She has been missing for months.”

“We have her sedated for her own wellbeing.” The nurse tried to remain emotionless but she sighed and leant in closer. “They found her surrounded by hundreds of candles, we have her on a mandatory 72 hour watch just to be sure she doesn’t attempt something like this again.”

Stephen frowned as he looked through the small glass panel into your room at the Esopus Mental Health Unit, your arms strapped to the sides of the bed. “Did the firefighters mention anything else that was strange about the fire?”

“No, not about the fire.” She shook her head before pointing the pen at him. “Actually, now that you mention it they said there were weird markings all over the walls. They figured it was just some teenager that had tagged the ruins.”

“Runes.” Stephen muttered, his eyes screwed shut as he realised what else Wanda had been doing with herself before he found her. “I need you to release Mrs Romanoff into my care.”

“That’s not possible. She’s going to be moved to the rehab unit after this. Whatever drugs she’s been taking, she’s dependent on them and we need to wean her off, you didn’t see her when the sedation wore off earlier. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“She’s not addicted to drugs, your rehab will only make things worse.” Stephen sighed, looking back into the room. “She’s addicted to magic.”

Your head was pounding as you lifted it from the pillow and looked around the unfamiliar room. Antiques, books and junk covered the shelves around it but it was the window that caught your eye. The Empire State building rose high above the skyline and you shot up out of the bed as you realised you were in New York.

You had no memory of getting there but the first thing you checked was the thin chain hanging around your neck. A small sense of relief washed over you as you felt the wedding rings hanging from it and you looked at your own, still firmly wrapped around your finger. The ruby setting glinted in the fading daylight and you sucked in a harsh breath as you remembered why you wore Natasha’s ring around your neck.

You crashed out the door as you ran from your past, the pain nearly driving you to your knees. It wasn’t until you hit the landing of the first floor that you recognised the building you were in, just as Dr Strange stepped out in front of you.

“Where’s Wanda!” You ordered as you gripped your necklace tight, her garnet stone digging into your palm. “I need her to send me back.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, the Dark Hold was destroyed, Wanda destroyed it.” Stephen said gently. “There’s no way to dreamwalk now.”

You refused to believe him, shaking your head wildly as your chest imploded a thousand times over. “I have to see her. I need her. I can’t live with this pain anymore. It hurts so much without her. Don’t you know how bad it hurts, to not be with the person you love.”

“She’s gone. And I know you want to believe there’s some way you can be with her but it’s just not possible. There is no spell in this universe or the infinite universes out there that can bring Natasha back.” He said as he caught you crumpling to the floor, pity radiating from his every pore. “But…”

You looked hopeful, and it made him feel ill that you thought he had a good solution. “But what!”

“I can take the pain away.” He swallowed. “Make you forget she existed, forget that you loved her.”

You tore yourself from his grasp and shook your head. “You can’t take her away from me. I won’t lose her again, I won’t let you!”

He stepped closer to try to placate you but you closed your fist just like Nat had taught you and threw it at Stephen’s face with all your might. Shock and surprise was written all over his face before it snapped to the side and he crumpled to the ground unconscious. Natasha had taught you a lot during your years of marriage, the perfect spot to land a knockout punch being one.

You sprinted through the maze of the Sanctum, a madness surging you towards the library. You couldn’t see past the moment you were in, fixated on finding a book that could bring Natasha back, there had to be something. You were lost to the cause, eyes skimming page after page looking for pictures that looked like the runes Wanda had drawn around you, you didn’t notice Stephen stepping into the room.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He whispered. “You’re no longer just a danger to yourself.”

Gold ribbons of light rippled from his hands and you screamed as they ensnared your body, dragging you away from your only hope.

“You don’t have to do this.” You begged as you tried to break free. “We can bring her back. I know the answer is here. I know it.”

Stephen took a breath, wishing there was someone else who could make this decision but you had no one left. The unhinged look in your eyes was so far removed from your true nature that it made the decision for him and he began to weave the spell that would erase Natasha from your memory. He hoped it would give you a new lease at life, a chance to find happiness after the pain and suffering you had endured.

“Deep down, I hope you will see this as a kindness.” Stephen said as his fingers marked the spell and released it to the universe. “I’m trying to help you.”

You fought to the bitter end, watching the golden light burst out from around you and knowing you only had moments left with the memory of Natasha. “You’ve just killed me.”

Your body rose from the floor, golden particles dancing around you with the memories they were stealing. Her laughter when she watched action movies with you, throwing popcorn at the screen at the unrealistic fights and sequences. Her tears when the cat you had rescued as a kitten was run over and she hacked the street cameras to find the driver.

Every memory you had desperately clung to, every moment etched into the walls of your heart, were ripped away. The way she danced in her wedding dress, looking like an angel in white, it was gone. The feel of her skin against yours, gone. Every scar erased, every story erased. Little by little, you were erased.

“You might be a little woozy.” Stephen said as the spell fell away and your feet touched the ground once more. “How do you feel?”

You frowned at the question, blinking slowly as you tried to think what he meant before giving him a small shake of your head. “I don’t feel anything.”

Your voice was cold, detached. There was no malice, anger, or pain. Stephen thought in erasing Natasha, you would be back to your old self but he had only ever known you with Natasha. He didn’t know that she was the one who brought warmth to your life. He didn’t know that she was the only one who made you feel anything.

“Slow down. You need to rest before you go anywhere.” Stephen said as you started for the stairs.

“I’m not tired.” You said as you continued on your way, the idea that there was something missing but you didn’t know exactly what it was. “I lost something.”

“Where are you going?” Stephen asked as you walked away without a glance.

“To find it.”

#natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #Natasha Romanoff fanfic #dr strange spoilers #mom spoilers

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