#but it really does just come across like he picked it up in a panic and pretended to be reading it when Jonathan came back into the room
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For my beloved @penny00dreadful 💜🖤
My fandom bestie, writing soulmate, and one of my absolute favorite people in the entire world.
Happy (early) Birthday 🌈👠💖
Huge thanks to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for all your help in making this story come to life!
WC: 3483 | Ch 1/4 | AO3 <-
Chapter 1: Over the Rainbow
To be perfectly honest, Steve always felt a little unsafe riding around in the van with Eddie. It wasn’t that he was a bad driver, per se, but he was definitely a distracted one, constantly needing to be reminded to keep his eyes on the road instead of the tape deck. He also tended to treat speed limits as more of a suggestion than something enforceable by law.
Tonight was no exception, the feeling of unease even worse than usual because of the storm raging outside. They shouldn’t have even been on the road in these conditions, a fact Steve had tried in vain to convince Eddie of. Hawkins was under a tornado warning for fuck’s sake! But the other boy wouldn’t hear it, their errand was too important.
They had plenty of beer, but they needed snacks.
According to Eddie there was absolutely no way they could enjoy Friday the 13th part 27, or whatever ridiculous number sequel it was that he wanted to watch, properly without the three basic food groups: Pringles, Twizzlers, and some form of chocolate.
They were having a movie night, just him and Eddie. It was no big deal, really. Steve wasn’t nervous about it at all. They’d been getting along fine since Vecna had been defeated, better than fine! They just… hadn’t spent a lot of one-on-one time together.
Typically, at least Robin, and some-or-all of the kids, would join them on a night like this, but the kids were set on going to the arcade, and Robin—who’d finally gotten over her fear of driving and managed to get her license on the first try—was taking Vickie out for what may or may not be a date, and borrowing Steve’s car to do it.
Therein lay the source of the problem, actually. It was usually Robin’s job to procure movie night snacks, and in her absence neither of them had thought to pick up the slack.
Which is what had led them to this moment.
Flying down the road at 15 miles per hour over the posted speed limit, minimum, in a fucking downpour, at night. They were just asking for a deer or some shit to come bounding across the road and then—BAM!
As if on cue, just as Steve had the thought, something did indeed dart out from the side of the road to cross in front of them. Fortunately, for once, Eddie was actually paying attention. He slammed on the brakes, simultaneously jerking the wheel, allowing them to narrowly miss hitting the poor wild animal.
Unfortunately, that combination of evasive maneuvers caused them to spin out, and sent the van careening into a ditch on the side of the road. The vehicle flipped, and Steve had just enough time to think how glad he was that they’d both been wearing their seatbelts, before something from the rear came flying up to smack him hard in the back of the head.
-
Steve came to slowly, blinking awake, wincing as the bright light of day attacked his retinas.
Day?
But it’d been night, hadn’t it? It was dark, and it was raining, and…
The evening before came back to him in a sudden rush. The van sliding across the road, the sickening crunch of metal as it rolled, gravity doing what gravity does. He didn't remember anything after that, but it looked like somehow they’d managed to land upright in the end at least.
He rubbed at the nape of his neck, pleasantly surprised to find no lumps, bumps, or blood, nor did he feel the telltale nausea that sometimes came with a really bad blow to the head. He wondered if Eddie–
Oh my god, Eddie!
Steve looked to the left, finding the driver's seat empty and was instantly gripped by panic. He scrambled out of the car, nearly falling on his ass in his hurry.
“Eddie?” He called out, fear churning in his gut. “Eddie?!”
He spun a circle, relief washing over him as he found the other boy only a few feet away.
Eddie was sitting on a large tree trunk, rocking ever-so-slightly back and forth, gnawing on his fingernails as he stared at the backside of the van.
“There you are! Dude, you scared the shit out of–” Steve trailed off as he rushed to Eddie’s side to see what he was looking at, and swallowed hard. It was a pair of legs in striped stockings wearing a killer pair of red heels, sticking out from under the rear tires. The shoes glittered cheerfully in the sunlight. “Oh, fuck.”
Eddie dropped his head into his hands. “I thought I swerved in time. I thought we missed it.”
“I thought it was a deer.” Steve mumbled.
Eddie cut him an annoyed glare. “Clearly not, Harrington.”
“Hey,” Steve said softly. He knew Eddie well enough by now to tell when he was scared—when he felt guilty, even if he was trying to act otherwise. “This isn’t your fault. It was an accident.”
“Yeah,” Eddie huffed. “Tell that to the cops! They thought I was a murderer once already. It’s only been a few months where I can actually be seen in public without someone calling me a devil worshiper, or worse. Now they’ll think they have proof that I really am a killer!”
“You know Hop will go to bat for you again, and I’m here. I can be a witness.”
“That’s not all.”
“It somehow gets worse than us accidentally killing some lady?”
Eddie sighed, raking a hand over his face as he rose from the stump. He turned, gesturing to something behind them, but Steve was still stuck on those legs. He couldn’t look away.
“Why the hell was someone out in shoes like that in the middle of the night anyway?” Steve mused. “It was pouring.”
“Steve, look.”
“What if we just said I was driving? Then we– “
“Steve!” Eddie gripped his upper arms, forcibly turning him around.
Steve’s eyes went wide. They were standing right on the edge of a little town. Little, not only in the way that the town itself was small in, like, area, though it was that—about the size of one city block—but for the fact that all the colorful little buildings and bungalows were miniature. The whole thing was surrounded by gardens laden with all sorts of beautiful plants, shrubs, and trees, with flowers of every shade in bloom.
“What the fuck,” Steve breathed, taking a few tentative steps into the vivid village.
“Yeah.”
“Eddie, what the fuck?! Where are we? And why is everything in technicolor?”
Eddie stepped up from behind to clap him on the back.
“I don’t think we’re in Hawkins anymore, big boy.”
Steve shot him a look over his shoulder. “What was your first clue?”
“I see where Dustin gets his tone from.” Eddie mumbled.
Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “Do you… do you think it’s like the Upside Down?”
“In the sense that it’s another dimension? Maybe, but I don't get the feeling this one has any terrifying monsters. It’s too clean. It even smells nice, like roses and shit.”
“Yeah,” Steve agreed. Eddie had a point, nothing about this place screamed danger. “The Upside Down always smelled like mold and rotting flesh.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.”
“What do we do? How do we get back?” Steve asked, not really expecting Eddie to have all the answers, but he did his best thinking out loud with company.
“No idea.”
“Should we start walking? Maybe try and find a payphone?”
Eddie scoffed. “A payphone?”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
The other boy was quiet for a moment, a rare occurrence, but eventually threw his hands up in defeat. “No, actually. So, I guess walking it is.”
Steve turned back, intending on pilfering the van for things that might be useful, like water, weapons, or one of the many lighters that littered the floor, when something in the distance caught his eye.
“What the hell is that?” He asked aloud, pointing up to the sky at a giant pink bubble that was headed straight for them.
Eddie squinted up at it. “I think there's something inside.”
“Should we run?”
“Maybe we should pop it.”
“You just said there was something inside! Wouldn’t that let it out?”
Eddie shrugged.
In no time, the bubblegum colored sphere settled near them and faded away, leaving behind a woman with long dark wavy hair. She held a long scepter, and wore a tall crown and a poofy ball gown, of all things. There was also something very familiar about her face.
“Wait.”
“No.”
“Is that?”
“It can’t be.”
“Joyce?!” They both said, in tandem.
The woman in the ballgown tilted her head. “Who’s Joyce?”
“You are.” Steve said.
She shook her head, offering him a kind smile. “I’m afraid not. I’m Glinda, the Witch of the North, and who might you be?”
Eddie leaned in, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “Is she serious?”
Steve snorted a laugh, quickly trying to hide it with a cough.
“What’s so funny?” Not-Joyce asked.
“Nothing, uh, I’m Steve, and this is Eddie.”
She stepped carefully around them, pointing her sparkly stick at the half-a-dead-body that jutted out from under Eddie’s van. “What do you boys have to say for yourselves?”
“I’m sorry?” Eddie said, sobering quickly. At the same time Steve insisted, “It was an accident!”
“Stop giving them a hard time, Glinda. They did us a favor!” A strangely familiar voice called out from behind a nearby bush, and a moment later 6 small-ish figures came popping out of the surrounding foliage.
“They killed The Wicked Witch of the East!” The one with curly hair shouted, as the others cheered.
Eddie jumped. “Jesus H. Christ, where did all you little fuckers come from?!”
“Oh my god.” Steve muttered under his breath.
It was the kids, except they were actually kids. The 11-year-old versions of Dustin, Will, Lucas, Mike, Max, and El pushed and shoved their way past each other, all trying to be the first to approach.
“Who you calling little?” Baby-Lucas said.
“Okay, what the hell is going on here guys? Why are you so young, and what’s with the outfits?” Steve asked, completely dumbfounded.
Once he’d gotten over the initial shock of their appearance, Steve realized they were all wearing costumes or something. The girls wore pink frilly dresses and tall pointed bonnets, something he knew for a fact Max would never have agreed to, and the boys had these funny little shorts with long socks and matching tops—except for Dustin, who donned long pants and an even longer coat, along with a striped bow tie and a giant pocket watch hanging from his side.
Eddie looked similarly stunned. “How did you get us here? And how did you get Joyce in on it?”
“Who’s Joyce?” Mini-Mike-Wheeler asked.
“I think they mean me.” Not-Joyce said.
Tiny Dustin’s face twisted up in confusion. “But that’s not your name.”
She shrugged. “I tried telling them that.”
Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay fine, she’s Glinda. Who are you?”
“Oh! I'm the mayor of Munchkinland.” A wide, gummy smile spread across tiny-Dustin’s face as he stuck his arm out, er, up, for a handshake.
Steve stared down at him, unimpressed. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I'm done playing whatever game this is. How do we–”
A sudden explosion went off in the middle of the town square only a few yards away, creating a thick cloud of red smoke. On instinct Steve and Eddie both moved to place themselves between the oncoming threat and the Munchkins.
The air cleared quickly, revealing a woman in a long black dress and matching cloak, carrying a broom and wearing a hard scowl.
Steve blinked at her, then looked at Eddie for confirmation that they were seeing the same thing.
“Mrs. Click?”
Eddie nodded.
Her complexion was all wrong but the resemblance was uncanny.
Steve leaned in, whispering, “If that’s Click, who do you think the one we hit was?”
Eddie grinned. “O’Donnel.”
“I am the Wicked Witch of the West. You killed my sister. Prepare to die.” The newcomer declared loudly, sneering at the two of them.
Eddie rounded on her, pointing a finger right in her face. “Look lady, we’ve had just about enough–”
Steve grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back. “What my friend here means to say is, it was an accident and we’re very sorry.”
“I’ll show you an accident, young man,” The Wicked Witch said, raising her green hands and long pointy nails threateningly in their direction.
“Aren't you forgetting something?” Glinda raised her voice, as she too moved to protect the little ones.
“The ruby slippers! Yes!” The Wicked Witch smiled gleefully and made a beeline for Eddie’s van.
When her back was to them, Glinda winked at Steve and did some kind of wavy-woo with her stick, which, in hindsight he realized was a wand, and the red shoes disappeared from the dead body’s feet right before their eyes, reappearing in Steve’s hand a second later.
“They’re gone!” The Wicked Witch gasped, whirling on the spot and narrowing her eyes at him.
“Why is it always me?” Steve grumbled, resigned to the fight, only to find Eddie taking a protective step in front of him as she approached.
“You! Give them back. I’m the only one who knows how to use them. They’re of no use to you!”
She wasn’t wrong, but Steve felt like maybe it wasn’t the best idea to give what he suspected was a powerful magical object to a woman whose sister they’d just murdered. All those months of spectating while the party played D&D were finally paying off.
“Put them on and stay tight inside of them, Steve.” Glinda said, her tone grave. “Their magic must be very powerful, or she wouldn't want them so badly.”
Nailed it.
“You stay out of this, Glinda, or I'll fix you as well!”
The Good Witch waved her off. “You have no power here. Now be gone before someone drops a… a… a…” She stuttered, waffling as if searching for the right word.
“A van?” Eddie supplied.
“Ah, yes. Thank you, Eddie dear.” She cleared her throat, pausing for what Steve could only assume was dramatic effect. “Now, be gone before someone drops a van on you, too!”
“Very well, but I'll be watching.” The Wicked Witch hissed, zeroing in on Steve once again. “I’ll get you my pretty-boy, and your little dog too!”
“Hey! Who are you calling a dog? You looked in the mirror lately?! Witch.” Eddie spat.
She huffed, raising her broomstick high above her head and bringing it down hard against the road at her feet, sending more red smoke billowing up from the spot to quickly engulf her form. When it was gone, so was she.
“Little dog. Pfft.” Eddie muttered.
“It’s the hair.” Little-Max said, matter-of-factly.
“Yes,” Tiny-Dustin agreed, nodding as he rubbed stubby fingers against his small chin. “The word scruffy does come to mind, to be fair.”
“Watch it, Mayor.” Eddie warned.
“That, and the way you were guarding your friend there.” Little-Max spoke again.
Eddie glowered as she dissolved into giggles that quickly spread through the small crowd. Soon all the Munchkins, as well as Glinda, were clutching their sides with laughter.
Steve didn’t get what was so funny.
“Don’t listen to them, Munson. I like your hair. It’s very… metal.”
Eddie put on a show of rolling his eyes, but under it all was a shy pleased smile. “Thanks, Harrington.”
“That’s rough, boys. You’ve made quite the enemy. The sooner you get out of Oz the better I think.” Glinda said, when the laughter had finally faded.
“And how do we do that exactly?” Eddie asked. “The van’s broken down, and even if it wasn't, I have no idea where the hell we are or how we even got here! Let alone how to get back to Hawkins.”
“The only person who might be able to help you would be The Great and Wonderful Wizard of Oz himself.”
Steve pursed his lips. “Okay, I'll bite. How do we find this Great Wizard?” It took all his strength not to put those last two words in air quotes.
“He lives in the Emerald city.” She said.
“And how do we get there?”
“Follow the yellow brick road, of course.”
Eddie shook his head. “Of course, she says.”
“Do you not have yellow brick roads where you come from?”
“No.” Steve snapped. He was already so tired of this shit, and somehow he knew that the end of, whatever this was, was nowhere in sight.
“My, my, you two are grumpy.” Glinda muttered. Without another word she took a few steps away from them and waved her wand, conjuring a new pink bubble around herself.
“Wait, you can’t just leave us here with these kids!” Steve shouted, but it was too late, The Good Witch had already started to float away.
“We’re not kids, y’know.” Tiny-Dustin said.
“You look like kids.”
“Whatever.” The boy shrugged, taking one of their hands in each of his. “Come on, we’ll walk you to the edge of town.”
-
The edge of town turned out to be roughly 10 feet away from where the van had landed, which wasn’t a surprise given the compact nature of Munchkinland as a whole, but it did have Steve wondering why they even bothered.
At least the kids—sorry, the Munchkins, had been helpful enough to point out the yellow brick road.
As if they could have missed it.
Eddie let out a long whistle. “Wow, that is YELL-ow. Like, I know they said it, but I guess I expected it to be dull or dirty or something, not this bright sunshine color. Kinda reminds me of that sweater you used to wear.”
Steve tucked the pair of heels awkwardly under his arm and started down the path, wishing he had a bag or something to put them in. Holding onto them like this was going to get annoying fast.
“Aren't you going to put those on first?” Eddie asked.
“Are you serious, Munson?” Steve slowed his pace, turning to gape at him.
Eddie grinned, bumping their elbows together when he caught up. “What, afraid you can’t walk in ‘em?”
“I wear a size 13 men’s shoe, they’re never gonna fit me!”
For a fraction of a second Eddie’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Jesus, guess I was onto something with that nickname, big boy.”
Steve rolled his eyes, shoving the shoes in Eddie’s direction. “Why don’t you put them on?”
“No, that Glinda lady gave them to you, expressly.”
“I'm telling you they’re not gonna fit.”
“Magic shoes, Steve.” Eddie wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “Magic shoes! Just try, I'm sure it’ll be fine.”
Steve glared as he toed his sneakers off, tying the laces together before throwing them over Eddie’s shoulder, and finally slipped his feet into the sequin adorned pumps.
They fit like a glove.
He twisted at the waist, glancing behind his own back, sticking first one leg out, and then the other, as he looked down at himself. “Hmm, they do make my ass look nice, I guess.”
He also just so happened to be wearing his date night jeans, the ones that hugged him in all the right places, and with the addition of the shoes? It was a good look, if he did say so himself.
A high pitched noise escaped Eddie’s throat. “As if you needed any more help in that department.” He mumbled under his breath.
Steve swallowed hard. “What’d you say?”
“Nothing.”
Eddie was always doing that—flirting, making little comments and then pretending he hadn’t. It drove Steve crazy, never sure if Eddie actually meant it, or if he just liked to tease—not quite sure which answer he hoped was the truth.
Steve turned on his heel, literally, and strode away, tired of wasting time. His first few steps were a bit wobbly, a little like a newborn calf learning to walk, but he got the hang of it pretty quickly. He wasn’t, like, swaying his hips side-to-side confident or anything—yet—but he was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to randomly fall over. It was good enough for now.
“What are we looking for again?” He asked without turning around.
“The Emerald city.” Eddie replied, falling into step beside him again, cheeks a little pink. “The little guy who looked like Will said we’d know it when we saw it.”
“Nicely vague, figures.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. They seem to take everything very literally around here, so my guess is if we see a place with a lot of big bright green buildings, that’ll be the one.”
Ch 2: Yellow Brick Road
Ch 3 (coming 4/27)
Ch 4 ( coming 4/28)
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next chapter(s)!
#steddie fanfic#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#stranger things#steddie wizard of oz#post season 4#eddie lives#steve harrington/eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie fic#gift fic#robin buckley#nancy wheeler#jonathan byers#the party
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Jon he's really trying here cut him a break
(tumblr crunched the resolution of this comic a lot rip)
#dracula daily#hello im back from the void with shitty dracula doodles#i actually drew this last year but never posted it#here it is now though#count dracula#jonathan harker#Drac reading the english bradshaw guide is still one of the funniest moments in Dracula to me#i know it is supposed to show how he's planning to infiltrate england and appear local#but it really does just come across like he picked it up in a panic and pretended to be reading it when Jonathan came back into the room#and being the weird guy he is thought reading train schedules was really normal behaviour#bram stoker's dracula is a romcom#re: dracula
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hopper sees steve as a surrogate son. really, he shouldn't make such a habit of picking up stray children, but he looked at harrington and saw a kid who just... needed someone. saw the vacancy in his eyes when he thought no one was looking. saw the police file, the noise complaints and the few reports from hawkins middle school about suspicious bruises that had been swept away. saw a boy who'd seen too much. who just needed someone to lean on.
so he tries to be that. offers the kid a hand every now and then. keeps an eye on him, all alone in that big house, after everything. after '83 and then '84 and then summer of '85, when he'd signed his medical papers because there was no other adult for him around. it always left him a bit hollow, but he told himself that it was okay as long as he was around. as long as steve knew, deep down, that he could come to hopper for help, even if he'd wait until he was on the brink of overload before doing so.
it's all this that makes the sight of steve's car, that brown beemer that had dropped his daughter back home so many times, pulled into a ditch with the lights off cause his stomach to sink. a million awful things come to mind as he pulls in behind it and quickly hops out of his cruiser.
had he seen something and spiralled into a panic? had he gotten a bad migraine? had he run off into the woods alone?
thankfully, he finds the best case scenario: a slightly flushed and dishevelled steve rolling down a foggy window. grinning like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar when he realises it's just hopper. he's fine, he's in one piece.
what's not fine, however, is the person with him in the backseat. eddie fucking munson, a kid hopper's put in handcuffs more than once. not because he's another boy, who gives a shit about that, but because it's eddie munson. drug dealer, general troublemaker, and definitely a bad influence on his boy.
he does his best to save the judgement this time, sensing the fear emanating off the couple. tells them to be more careful, to go home and kiss or do whatever there instead in case anyone else drives by tonight. munson looks at him like he's grown a second head, (which, fair. usually their interactions go a lot less amicably than this) and steve just tears up and nods. he reaches in to ruffle the boy's hair, ignoring the protests, before reluctantly trudging back to his car and driving away.
he calls steve the next afternoon and gets him to confess that, yes, he is dating edward 'eddie' munson. no, it's not a fling. yes, they're boyfriends, god help him. he gripes about it a decent amount, because really, steve? that one? you picked that one? but he keeps the tone light enough that steve feels comfortable enough to defend eddie's honour amidst laughter. within a week he's got steve sat across from him, eddie by his side looking two seconds away from shitting himself.
"well, boys." he grins, cracking his knuckles. eddie watches. gulps. "let's have a little chat, shall we?"
#then hopper gives eddie the shovel talk HARD#eddie is losing his shit because FUCK FUCK FUCK WHY DID STEVE NOT TELL HIM THE CHIEF OF POLICE (WHO FAMOUSLY HATES HIM) IS HIS MAYBE DAD#steve is just starry eyed that an older male figure cares enough to do this for him#hopper ofc decides steve 'can keep eddie' as long as eddie is on his best behaviour#also because hes never seen steve as happy as when hes looking at eddie so hes gotta b doing smth right#(he thanks eddie for this and the guy cries bc wtfwtfwtf)#steddie#stranger things#prompt#imagine#steve harrington#stranger things prompt#eddie munson#steddie fic#steddie prompt#steve and eddie#jim hopper#steve and hopper#eddie and hopper#dad hopper#steddie headcanon#steddie hc#dad jim hopper#protective hopper#established steddie
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Proposing:
Grand Unified Scarian Theory
a single, overarching Scarian romance arc across the whole Hermitcraft and Life series as well as a primer for anyone curious about the early seasons.
We start with NEIGHBOR MEET CUTE in early Season 6:
Season 6 begins in a peaceful pirate bay. SCAR, an established hermit just beginning his third season, is happily making pirate caves. Into this tranquil scene comes GRIAN.
Grian, fresh-faced and new to Hermitcraft, picks a sea-themed base location right next to Scar’s pirate caves. He gets himself set up and starts his base. Even someone like Grian can get newcomer nerves, and he spends the first few weeks desperately trying to act like a normal person instead of the horrible gremlin he really is.
(Some hermits are taken in by this. Doc and Xisuma give him pity diamonds, something that—after getting to know Grian—they noticeably never do again.)
The only person exempt from Grian’s just-a-little-birthday-boy act is Mumbo, whom Grian already knows, clearly has a puppy-crush on, and pursues relentlessly.
Grian and Scar don’t interact much at first. Grian sees Scar for the first time while passing by his base. Scar instantly falls in one of his own caves and dies.
Grian panics.
Grian: I DIDN’T DO IT!
Scar, intrigued by his new neighbor, makes some overtures of interest:
1. Scar leaves a fully enchanted trident at Grian’s base as a welcome present. This is a generous gift for the cute neighbor you have a crush on and frankly the most normal thing either of them do in the entire years-long relationship.
Grian goes ‘huh!’ at the trident, never finds out who sent it, and immediately forgets the whole thing.
2. Scar entertains Grian’s traveling-salesman pitch and buys his overpriced armor boxes.
Multiple jokes about the size of Scar’s wallet. Grian clearly pleased by the transaction.
3. Scar makes Grian a complementary in-joke build (Spongebob’s house by Squidward’s house).
This delights Grian immeasurably for five minutes until he turns back to his prank war with Mumbo.
(Poor Mumbo. Clearly immensely fond of Grian but not sure he wants to be in a relationship with a lit stick of dynamite. This is very understandable.)
By this point Scar obviously kind of clocks that Grian is insane about Mumbo. This isn’t much of a leap. The entire SERVER is aware that Grian is horribly in love with Mumbo.
Ah. That’s okay. Scar backs off a bit. He recognizes when he’s not really in with a chance.
Maybe this thing he has with Grian is just going to be a friendship, and that’s okay! Having a crush is fun even if you’re not going to do anything about it. Scar is going to build some shops about it and be normal.
Both of them are going to be very normal.
FLIRTING (First Stages) – mid-Season 6
Both of them immediately forget to be normal.
Grian has started a detective agency and has no mysteries to solve. Scar instantly invents a cookie-based mystery supervillain called the Jangler and leaves Grian a series of tantalizing cookie-based puzzles for enrichment in his enclosure.
Grian has invented a game where you kill people with rockets. Scar volunteers to get murdered. Both of them are delighted.
Scar and Cub’s business empire is incidentally crushing Grian’s startup venture. There is no reason for this to be so flirtatiously charged.
At this point all the hermits move to a new village because of the Minecraft update. Grian starts a who-can-build-the-tallest-house war with Mumbo and Iskall. Scar notices and starts doing the same from the other side of the village.
It quickly gets so wild that Mumbo taps out (Mumbo does not do well with intensity, would rather just not, thankyouverymuch), and it's only Grian, Iskall and Scar.
Scar builds a wild giant plant eating his rocketship, and then a castle in the sky, and an enormous version of himself firing a canon at Grian's house. This is the first time you can really see Grian trying to hold in shrieks when he flies back in to see what Scar has done while he's gone.
Grian’s interest has been caught. He’s gone from barely seeing Scar to checking on him regularly. What’s our good friend Scar up to? What’s Scar done? What is Scar going to do next?
FLIRTING (How To Catch Your Crush’s Interest By Building A Secret Government Facility) – late Season 6
What Scar does next is put on a snazzy military uniform, team up with Doc to steal the time machine Grian invented last week, then, in the most effort someone has EVER gone to to get Grian's attention, spend weeks on end building a fully-functional 'Area 77' military base and containment facility to stop him getting it back.
Turns out this works beyond Scar’s wildest dreams.
Grian INSTANTLY obsessed with breaking into Scar’s base and retrieving his time machine.
Grian persuades Ren into forming a hippie camp with him next to the base and spends weeks entirely fixated on Scar. Meanwhile Scar, who is starting to really understand how to get and keep Grian's attention, builds more and fancier infrastructure to keep Grian out. This is also where Grian really starts looking at Scar's art—the insane cliffs Scar has build around his new hangers—and awkwardly not quite managing words, because it would be very embarrassing to just outright say the word beautiful, and Grian’s a very normal and non-embarrassing person.
In the climax of the season, Grian-the-hippie breaks into General Scar’s base.
Nobody can say that Scar making himself a top brass general and Grian making himself an anti-establishment flower power hippie does not end up with plausibly-deniable not-making-out Grian-provoking-Scar-into-holding-him-against-a-wall.
but.
BUT.
This is Hermitcraft. It’s temporary. Scar and Grian both know it was a bit. A bit they both got super into, sure! But a bit. Not weird at all.
(“Sure, mate, not weird at all,” Mumbo says, after all of this is over. “Then why are you making it SOUND weird Mumbo you’re the WORST”)*
(“Sooo....” Cub says, and Scar says, “I know. I know!”)*
*not canon but you can't tell me it didn't happen off screen
FLIRTING (But What About…) – early Season 7
Okay, so that was weird, but Grian is definitely still in love with Mumbo. The Mumbo pursuit is going great and Mumbo definitely doesn’t look nervous whenever Grian turns up with a new idea. Grian is going to get Mumbo to fall in love with him and they will marry in the spring and have a dozen beautiful children redstone contraptions.
Grian attempts to make it more official with Mumbo. Surely they have been flirting long enough, they are ready for the next stage! This is in no way a reaction to Scar becoming a weird wizard in a way very unsettling to Grian and building the kind of wild organic tangled forest build that Grian is fascinated by but can't even begin to comprehend.
Everything is very under control in Grian's life. He's now official boyfriends with Mumbo. They live together and have a messaging system and everything.
Mumbo announces he’s moving out.
It’s-not-you-it’s-me
You’re… you’re moving out? Grian says, in the smallest possible voice.
We’ll still have the messaging system, Mumbo says, unconvincingly.
FINE, Grian says, I’m moving out TOO.
Mumbo moves out.
Grian deals with this in the healthiest possible way. He invents a mayorship and attempts to give it to Mumbo.
Grian is Mumbo’s self-appointed campaign manager so Mumbo has to be round him ALL THE TIME, it’s for the CAMPAIGN, Mumbo.
Mumbo, a man who doesn’t deal well with pressure or responsibility, is maybe not the ideal choice for mayor, something that has escaped Grian entirely.
Mumbo builds a robot and attempts to palm off all responsibility for decision-making onto it. Grian immediately calls it their son.
Grian puts his moustache all over the server.
NO other hermits support them for mayor (except Scar, from a lost bet, who Grian has continued to have intensely weird flirtations with while all this is happening)
Things reach a fever pitch. Election day arrives. Mumbo doesn’t want this actually but try telling Grian that. The entire MumboGrian edifice that Grian has obsessively and wildly build has reached an unsustainable pitch and finally comes tumbling down around them.
Mumbo votes Scar for mayor.
Grian votes Scar for mayor.
Mumbo disappears for several weeks to do some nice soothing redstone and calm down.
FLIRTING (Civil War) – late Season 7
Everything has calmed down now. Scar is mayor. Mumbo is...somewhere. Grian is going to work on his base normally.
Grian has a new project. He wants to build in the new nether biomes. He builds a huge and echoing and obsessively inverse version of his huge and echoing and obsessively symmetrical mansion base. It's very impressive. It's totally hollow. There's... no one else here.
Grian decides that okay, he is going to bring PEOPLE here.
He invites Mumbo, because he hasn't seen him in weeks. He invites Bdubs, because Grian above all loves genius. And he invites Scar. Because of course. Everything major Grian does now, Scar is an of course.
Bdubs shows up! Generously builds Grian's entire mansion interior. Mumbo shows up. Builds a tiny upside down disco shack.
Scar does not show up.
Scar is being mayor! Scar is a very busy and important man! Scar has spent the last few weeks obsessively replacing every single goddamn mycelium block in the shopping district with beautifully tailored grass and making trees whose flowers are diamonds. He's also got his own megabase going on. For once Scar has so much to do it's even enough for Scar's ambitions, which have never been small.
He does not come when Grian calls.
Grian is Not Happy.
This is the point where Grian starts a steadily more unhinged campaign of leaving Scar invitations. He makes little tailor's dummies of himself and delivers them to Scar's house. He sets up a tea party of three grians in a secret space under Scar's mayoral throne. He hangs himself in effigy on the tip of Scar's megadrill build. Normal behavior.
And then when Scar still doesn't notice, he puts a tiny bit of mycelium back on one of the streets of the shopping district.
This starts… THE MYCELIUM WARS
Scar attempts to contain the growing mycelium patch with warning tape.
Grian spreads more mushroom spores.
Scar brings in his allies to help contain the growing mushroom patches.
Grian digs out an underground rebel HQ, recruits several rebels, and declares himself Motherspore.
Mayor Scar stares into a camera and uses his most velvety baritone to proclaim he will hunt down Grian and the mycelium resistance and bring them to justice.
Grian sets loose mushroom-spreading sheep.
Mayor Scar obsessively searches for his base.
Grian and Impulse build several decoy bases and trap them.
Mayor Scar employs Mumbo to strip-mine every block of the shopping district with redstone tunnel-borers.
Eventually Deputy Mayor Bdubs, having his own thing with rebel Etho, tricks all of the resistance into ender-pearling into jail.
Scar gets to threaten to pour lava on an imprisoned Grian for ten minutes straight and they’re both enjoying this so much.
Grian: Scar! SCAR! Scar Scar Scar no Scar no Scar no listen Scar
Scar: Yes?
Grian: …Let’s take this somewhere else.
They ‘take this’ to Scar’s beautifully-appointed mayoral office. Grian sits on the arm of his chair (I don’t know what to tell you, this is on-screen canon).
Grian: So I know how to end the war.
Grian: We have to play minigames and make personal bets.
Grian: And Scar, Scar, if you lose…
Scar: Yes?
Grian: … you have to help build my base.
Entire room: [stunned silence]
Etho: Is this what it was about the whole time, Grian?
So! That happened. And the thing is, they could both mentally pass off the area 77 general/hippie stuff as Just A Fun Bit That Got Very Intense.
They can't do this with the mayor/motherspore stuff. They are basically making out on Scar’s chair. The resistance have noticed. The mayoral staff have noticed. EVERYONE has noticed.
Scar is into it. Scar is going along with it. Scar knows he’d had a crush for a long time, and he isn't scared of swimming with a huge wave, never mind where it's going to break. Scar has always embraced the rush. With Grian, you never know what’s going to happen next.
Grian has always loved being around Scar because there’s so much going on that you don’t have to think. Grian doesn’t have to think until everything’s calmed down. It's not until now that he stops and realizes… could this be… something.
(Maybe it already is.)
And then, by whatever eldritch mechanic you personally favor:
3rd life begins.
HEAD-OVER-HEELS – Third Life
In the tiny claustrophobic stripped-bare world of Third Life, Grian makes a choice. Grian thinks, for once very, very clearly: what if it wasn't a bit? What if it was real. What if Grian took every explosive piece of who he was and handed it over to someone he's—okay, he'll admit it—someone he's been obsessed with for a long time. What if that heady sparkle he's been seeing in the corner of his vision is true. What happens if you grab it with both hands?
Scar—surprised, bemused, amazed but wrong-footed—almost doesn't know what to DO with this.
Scar is so used to Grian layering all his obsession behind a thick layer of irony and drama and second-guessing and schemes. ‘Sure we can make out but only if I'm trailing mushroom spores and you're wearing that sash.’ ‘I'm only here because Mumbo's not around.’ ‘It’s not a thing.’ ‘It's not real.’
But it is real.
And, for once, Scar hears a tiny alarm go off in his brain. Scar knows Grian better than anyone else does, by now, and even he doesn't know where this ends. Grian is a force of nature and Scar has never been his unfiltered target. But Grian's throwing himself into this, throwing himself at Scar. And Scar always says 'yes.' 'Yes, and.' 'Yes, let's'. Scar never wants less of Grian. Scar has always taken what he can get.
But with that warning bell, Scar does try to keep that slight layer of dramatic distance, even in this new world where you can die and not come back, even if they don't know if they'll get out of this alive. Scar doesn't fully buy into Grian's second-in-command-devotion, he forces a space for Grian to still be the Grian he knows, some kind of safety vent (‘here's a bee on a lead’). And it could be a lot of reasons, but part of it is…Grian's head-over-heels, for once, and Scar has the unfamiliar feeling of needing to be the one to look where they're going.
Because where they're going is: the last two, all their friends dead, not knowing if there's any way to survive but knowing their friends haven't come back, and at that point Scar takes off the very last of his brakes and the very last of his reservations and says:
For everything you've done for me you can kill me.
(I want this. I want it to be you.)
This breaks Grian absolutely and completely.
And not broken in the fun way! Grian is too far in. Grian let go of Mumbo, who was safe because Mumbo never let it get too far, and he took a risk on Scar, and now Grian is discovering that he didn’t even know what risk meant. Grian is in emotional pain he never suspected existed. Grian has let himself put all his gambling chips on someone who wasn't SAFE and he has lost.
Grian has LOST SCAR and he has LOST HIMSELF and he has FOUND OUT HE CAN BE HURT and he is never going to be the fucking same again.
Scar is in the pond with Grian’s sword at his unresisting neck. And Scar is going to die, and Scar (damn him damn him) has turned it into: he's going to die for Grian. Now Grian is hurting, he's complicit, it turns out grief is an inevitable part of love and beauty, this is all it's taken for Grian's worldview to fall apart in pieces he can't pick up, and Grian has no defenses against pain so there's obviously no way to cope except to beat Scar to death in a cactus ring and jump off a cliff.
AFTERMATH – Season 8
They wake up in Hermitcraft.
They wake up in Hermitcraft! Scar is delighted to find out they just reincarnate, after all that!
Sure, they've all got some lingering trauma but Scar has never let that stop him from doing anything. Scar thought that whole thing went well! He just about dares to think...romantic...? Maybe...?
Grian is Normal to him.
Grian is so fucking normal. it's like. s6 normal.
Scar is. kind of. confused.
Grian is NOT acting like someone he had a romantic death match with.
(Grian is falling apart, but if there's one thing Grian has proved in his building it’s that he’s SO. fucking. good. at facades.)
(Don't go round the back.)
Neither of them are ready for the death game to repeat.
DIVORCE (Traumatic) – Last Life, Season 8
Second death game. Grian deals with his trauma super well by isolating Scar, stealing all his friends, tricking a life out of him, dropping his horse in lava, forcing him into an extortion death loop, then abandoning him and—just as a bonus—murdering Mumbo as well.
This time it’s Scar who comes back falling apart.
A theory that seems plausible: Scar’s old friend Cub picks him up, puts him back together, gets him on his feet. What we do know is that Cub moves in next to Boatem, where Scar is still living with Grian, and incidentally builds an enormous dripstone megabiome that is coincidentally very hostile and might murder you upon landing if you're someone who flies a lot, or happens to be a bird.
There’s a hole with an endless dark void between Scar and Grian’s Boatem bases. They built it together. It’s around this time they both keep repeatedly falling in it.
DIVORCE (But When It Was Good It Was So Good) – Season 8, Double Life
Then the moon gets big. Gets close. Gravity breaks down and that should be the end, should be a way out of this terrible spiral they're in, surely they're better without each other—
Grian turns up at Scar's base and says: Scar. Build us an escape pod.
—and Scar does.
They go out together. Both of them can feel the pull back into each other’s orbit but they’ll die if they acknowledge it. At the end of it all, the void, the protective suits, the unbearable gravity of falling into space together, of holding each other until another uncertain end. They're nowhere but they're in it together.
Is this a good time for another death game? Of course. How much worse can it get.
Double Life, and this time Scar keeps his distance. My soulmate is this allay! My soulmate is my cat! I don’t need a soulmate. Oh—it’s Grian? This whole time? Hahaha. How funny.
Grian: Soo… do you want to base together?
Scar: Do we have to?
Grian: It…might be nice…?
Scar is wary.
He has been burned.
But the pull is still there. The pull is always there. You can’t forget Grian, but you can blunt the edge of him on your skin. Scar is here to take care of these cat-pandas. Grian can do what he likes.
Cheated of Scar’s full attention, Grian tries to tempt BigB into a pale imitation of the Scarian folie à deux (BigB is a genuinely nice man who does not deserve this).
The rest of the server turn red, one by one. Grian and Scar are the last greens. BigB is audibly nervous when Grian proposes a red-green alliance, even though BigB is the red, he has the power. But Grian can’t escape the rest of the server, and the red hunt begins.
Grian and Scar, hunted—trapped at the top of flaming towers, jumping from heights, chased down like foxes at bay, crammed into boltholes with their hands over each other’s mouths, Grian shrieks and laughs and falls back on Scar and Scar catches him and they’re both as alive and elated as they’ve ever been. Scar dies once to Ren and BigB’s zombies and Grian murders both BigB and Ren in revenge (BigB was right to be nervous). Grian has another unhinged murder plan underway when he dies for the last time.
This whole time, Grian was hit in the face by remembering that when it's good, it's so good.
Scar isn’t surprised. Scar has known that forever.
Back in Hermitcraft, its not magically fixed. They’re not innocent any more. But every time Grian looks at Scar he remembers: when it’s good, it’s so good.
And Scar never forgot.
DIVORCE (We’re In Love And We’re Not Done Yet) – Season 9, Limited Life
By now we're into Season 9. They’re still alive. They always live, they always start again, and the other one is just there. Being, infuriatingly and magnetically, them.
Grian is thoroughly annoyed by Scar’s new allegiance to King Ren, but he keeps coming back to Scarland anyway. Scar, I made you an obstacle course. Scar, stand here and get squashed by this anvil. Scar if you don’t do something I’m going to start a resistance.
Grian pretends King Ren doesn’t exist and he has more important things to do, and pretends this so hard that he incidentally invents a mad science robot pulls them all through into the Empires dimension.
Scar, assuming Grian is doing his own thing, shacks up with Jimmy.
It takes Grian three weeks to notice and be shriekingly outraged.
Scar we’re doing a project. Scar you can’t spend all your time with Jimmy! Join my cult. Get in my shrinking machine. I made you an enchanted netherite bow. I need your allegiance. (Another real quote).
Scar teases Grian for weeks then instantly abandons Jimmy when the choice comes down to him or Grian.
Fourth death game—they’re used to this, now. Nothing too intense. Nothing too weird. Grian can’t help murdering Scar.
At this point, Scar is starting to read it as: I love you.
And that’s how we get to the current Scarian dynamic we know and love of you're the worst and I'm the worst and we've divorced a few time but we still like each other so fucking much.
It's been years. They've killed each other every possible way. These two characters are in love and they're not done yet.
#scarian#grian#goodtimeswithscar#hermitshipping#yes canon IS a grand romantic arc#to be super clear: i don't think any of this was cc intention#but we can have a little narrative framing fun#as a treat#i think nearly all of this is true to canon except some timing vagueness and the dialogue in parentheses#thank you to the hivemind for theory help#long post#glossywrites
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Fashionably Late
Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (No!Outbreak)
Word Count: 893
Summary: You and Joel have to attend an event (any event you want) and you're both dressed up which makes it extra hard to get out of the house...
Author's Note: Listen, after the SAG awards look the other night I have still NOT recovered so this is my little way of channeling some of that because wow. How dare he? And thank goodness because oof. You can have Joel taking reader to any kind of event you want- I figured that really didn't matter here because it's more about how delicious he is. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy @firefly-graphics for the lovely divider🥰
Warnings: sexy teasing and tension, softness and flirting, Joel is pretty dom here but he's all about her
Pedro Pascal Masterlist
After letting out one final, soothing exhale, you step into your shoes, pick up your clutch and leave the bedroom.
Joel stands at the counter finishing off a glass of water, his white dress shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and the top few buttons undone to reveal the strong lines of his neck as he drinks.
At the sound of your steps he turns to look at you.
And stops cold.
When he doesn’t say anything and just stares you start to panic, wondering if you’d made the wrong choice of dress. He looks utterly perfect with his tanned skin against the stark white fabric, his black pants fitted to every thick muscle and his magnificent curls framing his face.
You can’t help your shiver of anticipation and goosebumps break out over your skin.
When you meet his eyes you watch them sweep along every inch of your body before he crooks a finger at you.
“Come here.”
His voice is raw and uneven and you slowly close the distance, watching his jaw tighten as you get closer.
“You’re going to make us late Joel.”
“And you’re fuckin’ gorgeous darlin’.”
Your breath catches in your throat and you set your things down on the counter. “Thank you.”
He finishes off his water and discards the glass in the sink then takes your hand in his and lifts your knuckles to his lips, lightly brushing across them with soft kisses.
With deliberate intention he circles you, taking in his fill and getting a complete view of you in your dress.
“What color are you panties?”
“Excuse me?” you ask.
“You heard me darlin’.”
“Why?” you counter, already loving the game he’s playing.
“If I have to take you to this event, to a room full of other men who are going to see you lookin’ like you do in that dress, you bet I’m gonna be the only one who knows the color of your panties.”
He moves until he’s so close you can feel the heat from his body but he’s still not touching you. Even so, it feels like his hands are everywhere and your skin tingles all over.
“Where’s my answer?”
You remain silent, your lips turning up in a smirk when you feel his breath warm the nape of your neck. He presses his chest flush to your back and whispers along the shell of your ear, “mm alright then gorgeous.”
He pushes you forward so you have to brace your palms flat on the counter.
“Spread your legs.”
Your breathing intensifies and you dig your teeth into your bottom lip, using all your willpower to remain defiant.
“Do as you’re told.”
His words are a growl of warning and your arousal outweighs your flicker of annoyance so you slowly spread your legs.
His fingers press into your calf and he hooks one under the silky fabric of your dress to drag it up with restrained delicacy. Once he reaches your thighs he shoves his knee between your legs and spreads them wider.
A strangled groan leaves his throat before a long stretch of silence passes with the weight of his gaze on your bare skin.
“No panties, darlin’?”
“Not with this dress,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.
“Hm,” he muses.
His large hand comes down hard on your exposed ass, jarring you against the cold countertop.
You hiss out a curse of pleasure but before you can respond with more he does it again. And again.
He then soothes the stinging spot with his palm and you try to straighten but he places a firm hand on your lower back, keeping you bent over the counter.
“You like that darlin’?” he asks.
“You know I do.”
Your breathy affirmation has him leaning over you, caging you in, his lips brushing the shell of your when he murmurs, “good. That’s for the hard on I’ll be walking around with tonight.”
When you try to straighten again he holds you down still, first fixing your dress with a gentle touch that offsets his actions from just a moment ago. His hand smooths along the curve of your hip and he lifts you up, turning you in his arms and cradling you against his chest.
His scent teases you, warm and earthy, and you dip your head to brush your lips along his.
“We best get goin’ darlin’…”
You nod, closing your eyes when his palm flattens on your back and his hand slides up to your neck, grabbing hold and dragging you closer. It’s too easy to give in. Too easy to be consumed by everything that’s him.
Your fingers tease the curls at the back of his neck, sliding through the silky strands as you sigh his name.
“Ok.”
It’s more of a whine and his eyes narrow dangerously.
“I’m trying really hard here,” he says roughly. “I won’t be able to stop if we keep this up.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
You tilt your head and your lips find his throat, placing soft open-mouthed kisses along his skin then you look at him through your lashes, daring him to tell you to stop.
His breath accelerates, filling the quiet space and heightening every sensation.
“Sweet fuckin’ hell darlin.’ I have no self-control when it comes to you. You’ve ruined me. I’m completely ruined.”
@blackwidownat2814 @lizette50 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @littleseasiren @lorilane33
#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x female reader#joel miller imagine#pedro pascal x reader#tlou
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GOJO SATORU
summary. You left Satoru and the kids at home to do some grocery shopping, which means that Satoru will have to take care of two babies at the same time.
contents. Fluff, reader is fem, gojo having troubles at the end
authors note. I requested something similar to this from another author, so if they did my request and posted it please don't get the wrong idea! I also wanted to write about it too now 😭
You and Satoru have Two kids, the first one is Satoshi, he's the oldest. He just turned two 5 months ago. Then next was Satoko, she's younger than Satoshi. You gave birth to her around 4 months ago.
You found it cute how your kids got Satoru's genes the most, they have his white snowy hair and those blue ocean eyes that you adore a lot.
︵͜⏜͜︵ ︵͜⏜͜︵ ︵ ︵͜⏜͜︵
Once, you had to go grocery shopping alone, leaving Satoru and the kids at home.
Satoru wanted to come with you, but you refused and told him to stay at home to take care of the kids. You assured him that it would be fine and no curses would start attacking you, plus you also reminded him that he expanded his infinity to you.
(Gojo fully knows that you're a strong sorcerer, he just suddenly became much more of a worry wart after you gave birth to his baby girl months ago.)
right now you're about to leave the house, but Gojo is looking at you with those big puppy eyes, begging you to bring him grocery shopping with the kids as well.
Well... There were plenty of reasons why you couldn't bring Gojo with you, the first one was that you're still kind of a first-time mom, and you don't know how to handle two babies at the same time in public. And of course, you and Satoru can't leave the kids alone at home, you guys don't trust any babysitter to look out for them since they could be bad guys or curses in disguise.
"Please y/n? I wanna come with you!
"Satoru you're being a baby! You do understand why you can't come right? You have to take care of the kids, it's just some grocery shopping! I swear I'll be alright! Now let me go! "
BANG! the door shuts close loudly.
Satoru pouted and looked down at his baby, "Your mama really is a meanie..no? "he cooed and looked down at his precious daughter who was sleeping in his arms, booping her nose. He's surprised that she didn't wake up from the commotion earlier.
"Ah, I'll just get your brother, 'kay? Don't pull any pranks on daddy when he's back. "- acting as if his 4-month-old daughter could stand up on her legs and start setting up pranks.
He kisses her forehead and places her on a nearby crib beside the sofa and heads towards Satoshi and Satoko's shared nursery room.
As he entered the room, it turned out Satoshi was already wide awake, bouncing and giggling in his crib at the sight of his father.
"Hey buddy, did you miss me that much? Is that why you're excited to see me?" A warm smile spread across Satoru's face as he scooped his son up.
"Pa-pa! Pa-pa!"
Satoru grinned, heart warmed by Satoshi calling him "papa."
"No wonder you're so cute; you look so much like me." And, well, you'd agree. Everyone else does too. Satoshi and Satoru could practically be twins.
Satoru picked up Satoshi from the crib, he checked his diaper for poop. "Oh no, you need a shower, bud." He chuckled, Satoru carried Satoshi to the bathroom, and Satoko too just in case.
After a good 20 minutes of bathing Satoshi, they returned to the nursery. Satoshi, now fresh and clean, rested on Satoru's left arm, while Satoko peacefully slept in her bassinet.
Everything was peaceful, not until a cat from outside accidentally knocked over a metal item which made a loud noise, good thing Satoshi didn't get scared by it, meanwhile, Satoko over here woke up from the noise.
Satoru started panicking when he saw that Satoko's eyes are starting to well up in tears.
"Oh my god- Satoko please don't cry, please don't cry.. "
He started to panic even more when he heard her whimpers, he tried to calm Satoko down by caressing her chubby cheek with his right hand.
"Nonono, not right now please Satoko... "
then boom, Satoko is now crying.
"Oh my goodness." He palmed his face and sighed from failing to prevent his daughter from crying.
"Alright, just a second Satoshi." He couldn't grab Satoko from the bassinet with one arm only, since he was carrying Satoshi in his left arm, So he had to put Satoshi down first. But as he was about to put Toshi down, his son gripped his shirt tightly,
"P-papa..... No..."
Then Satoshi started crying, he didn't want Satoru to put him down. The children's wailing filled the room, Gojo felt like he wanted to cry too.
"Aiyaaa..... Y/n...please save me.. "
Satoru didn't know what to do in order to stop the children from crying at the same time.
end: you arrived home 20 seconds later, you went to the nursery room to check what was the commotion about. When you saw Satoru very exhausted you couldn't help but burst out laughing. But don't worry, you told him that he did a great job and gave him plenty of kissed as his rewards after.
☞ note. this was inspired by that one kbs world tv episode, idk how to make my writings longer 😭 this was so annoying cuz I worked so many times on this fix then when I saved it to my drafts it had an error THEN HALF OF IT DISAPPEARED SO I HAD TO REDO EVERYTHING 😭😭😭
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo fluff#gojou satoru x reader#jjk fluff#satoru x reader
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just imagine beings jjs innocent gf and youre really inexperienced and it makes you so insecure and like hes not stupid he notices how you tend to pull back when things get heavy but he thinks its because you dont wanna go farther when its like you DO but you want him so bad its overwhelming and you dont wanna disappoint him but one day he reassures you its okay and to ease you into it he sits you on his lap and talks you through your first orgasm while you cum so prettily around his fingers :(
omg working yourself up to near tears because you want him to bad :( attending a lil pogue get together at the chateau, everyone getting drunk around the fire with music playing and it’s sm fun but all you can think about is how badly u wanna pull jj away from everyone and have your way with him… you just don’t know how :(
you haven’t done this before! so you don’t even know how to propose the idea, eventually the blonde picking up on your shaky and hesitant vibe when you ask him to come inside with you to get more ice from the freezer, even a few people wolf whistling as he lets you lead him by the hand inside.
he’s standing there shucking ice into the bucket, turning and looking at you when you slowly approach him with a softness to your expression you only gain when you want a kiss. so he stands to his full height and brings you in with cold hands on your cheeks, allowing your lips to meet.
mostly due to you, the kiss gets hot and heavy quickly, tongues needily dancing over eachother as you blindly found the couch, JJ pulling you onto his lap. your heart starts hammering like it always does and you pull away, a little panicked and frustrated, dropping your head to his shoulder with a sad sigh. “sorry.” you whimper.
“why? hey?” he lifts your chin with his knuckle, brow creased in concern. you don’t say anything, just climb off his lap— and you don’t miss the way he tugs his tshirt down a little trying to hide the bulge that had formed between his legs. after a slightly tense silence, he chooses his words carefully. “babe… y’know me, i don’t wanna come across like some pushy asshole but… am i doing something wrong? i dont wanna scare you, like— we can totally move at your pace it’s just… it seems like you want it and then you pull away and im just a little… confused?” he turns his body to face you, keeping his body language and voice gentle as to let you know you’re not in trouble with him.
you blink up at him tearfully through your lashes anyway as if he had yelled at you, letting a long sigh through your nose. “i… i just panic. i want you so bad it hurts but… dont know what i’m doing, just get so overwhelmed ‘n embarrassed and—” you start working yourself up and he shuffles closer, cupping your jaw.
“hey. look at me. that’s… what im here for, you know? to teach you stuff? we can take it really slow like…” he places a hand on your thigh, watching for your reaction, seeing the way your lashes flutter needily and breath catches in your throat. poor thing, so touch starved. “really, really slow.” he whispers, rubbing the skin there, fingers dipping a little up your skirt. “you okay with this, hm?” he tilts his head, dotting kisses down your jaw.
“mhm.”
“atta girl… you wanna stay right there or do you wanna sit on my lap?”
“on your lap, please.”
“polite, i like it.” he grins, pulling you up and getting you situated as his hand disappears up your skirt, tongue finding yours once more.
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the dead ringer
buttercup, chapter three
a/n: yeah, this did happen to me in real life, although it happened on a bus so i couldn't immediately get away... ANYWAYS! enjoy this hurt/comfort heavy chapter!
summary: “I think I know something that might help a bit.”
warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, crying, panic attacks, matt using his superpowers for the sake of hurt/comfort, boxing
word count: 2057
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
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Drizzling the flour into the wide bowl, like a dusty snowfall, you watched the number on the scale carefully as you neared the desired number. Though just before you hit it, Walter’s head suddenly poked in through the doorway leading behind the counter and interrupted you and Howard’s all-too-important discussion on what the day’s music choice should be.
“Hey, Y/n? There’s someone here to see you.”
Laying down the scoop still holding a bit of flour, you dragged your palms down the brown apron tied around your frame and exited the kitchen. A bright smile spread across your face and crinkled up your gaze as you spotted who was standing on the other side of the counter.
“Matt, hey–, oh my god,” you then suddenly noticed the bruising that blossomed out from under his tinted glasses and stretched up over the patched-up scrape that split his left brow, “what happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, just wasn’t paying attention last night, tripped and fell, that’s all,” he waved a hand, “I just wanted to stop by on my way to work, get a round of coffees to-go for everyone and perhaps some breakfast for myself, just whatever you think I’d like.”
“You’ll let me pick?” your eyebrows rose slightly.
But Matt simply smiled and said, “I trust your judgment,” his grip shifted gently on the cane standing tall before his chest.
As you moved to make the coffees, “alright,” you drew out a pondering breath, “are you in the mood for something sweet or savoury?”
Thinking about it a second, he uttered, “savoury.”
“Do you like sandwiches?” you popped the lids on the to-go cups. When he nodded, you placed the coffees in a little cardboard tray, “okay, I think you’ll like this one,” grabbed a brown paper bag and moved further down the counter, “it’s made with focaccia and has pesto in it as well as some tomatoes and cheese and stuff.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“I also–, you know what? I’ll be right back,” you then abruptly turned and momentarily disappeared into the kitchen, grabbing a few of the pillowy buns still on the cooling rack into a bag. As you returned, you also snuck a hand into the display case and stuffed a few other goodies into the sack, “just for the others, if they want,” you placed the bundle onto the counter beside the coffees, “I just pulled them out of the oven a bit ago and they’re still warm.”
“What is it?” Matt tilted his chin.
“Uh, some raisin buns, but I also threw two croissants in there in case they didn’t like raisins...”
A soft smile warmed his bruised features as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, “what do I owe you?”
“Oh no,” your hands waved lightly before you, “it’s on the house.”
“Y/n, come on,” he cocked his head.
“Fine,” you light-heartedly sighed, “if you really wanna sing for your supper, then I’ll cash it in at a later date. I don’t know, maybe if I get arrested someday or something you could help me out.”
“You don’t have to bribe me with free baked goods for that.”
“No, but it sure doesn’t hurt, does it?” you chuckled.
“No,” he joined in as he reached for the bags, “I guess it doesn’t.”
“You want some help carrying it?” you asked, hope seeping through your tone, “I could take my break and walk with you the rest of the way.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, we just got through the morning rush, they’ll be fine without me for–, I don’t know, 15 minutes or however long it’ll take to walk to your office and back.”
“Alright, thanks,” he smiled, one paper bag hooked in the fingers that also clutched the cane.
“I’m just gonna go grab my jacket, one second,” you said before ducking into the back to do so, letting your uncles know as you slipped out of your comfortable work clogs and into your sneakers.
You ended up dividing the load, with you carrying the coffees and the last bag in one arm, though a few protests left you at first, begging him to let you carry all of it, they melted away as his free hand enveloped yours.
When you reached his office, your arms wrapped around his frame as you hugged him long enough for your heartbeats to sync up, and just as you pulled away, his wide palms still warm on your back, you leaned in and planted a brief peck on his scruffy cheek.
One of his hands swept up to meet the side of your face as your lips retracted. You pulled back so slowly that you weren’t sure you were moving at all, being drawn in by his warmth like a moth to a flame.
His nose gently grazed against yours as he let himself linger, but just as your eyes fluttered shut in expectance that he’d kiss you, his warmth withdrew and he slowly breathed, “have a good day.”
In a matter of seconds, you had gone from giggling, glancing down at some silly joke on your phone as you walked home, to panic instantly kicking in as a passerby’s voice pierced your soul and made your blood run cold.
Glancing around, you saw a stranger standing off to the side and yapping into his phone. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t Michael, but it sounded exactly like him, so much so that the tone sent your body right back to that very night as if no time had passed at all.
Willing your body to move, forcing it to conquer the short rest of the way home, once your front door shut behind you and your quiet apartment consumed you, painful sobs began to burst out of your trembling frame. Hyperventilating, you crashed into the nearby wall of the entryway directly across from the door, incapable of getting deeper into your home.
Soon, a quiet and surprising knock found your door.
“Y/n?” the worried tone of your neighbour sounded from the other side.
Your shaky voice came out no louder than a whisper, “M-Matt?”
There might not have been any other instances you could recall where accidentally forgetting to lock your door turned out for the better, because when Matt then tried the handle, it gently complied.
Shutting it behind him, he rushed to you, “hey, hey,” he uttered softly, a hand soothingly finding your arm, “what’s going on?”
Attempting an answer, “I–, I–,” only incoherent sobs managed to seep from you.
“Okay, alright,” he sucked in a controlled breath, one of his hands sliding up to the strap of your backpack, “how about we start by getting all the way inside, huh?” gently gliding it off you and resting the bag on the floor.
You let yourself lean into him fully as he supported you on the short journey towards the couch. Wobbly taking a seat, his touch left you as he settled beside you.
Spine curving, you buried your puffy face in your trembling hands, letting the whole world drift away as small lakes were birthed within your palms from your pain.
When the sobs eventually began to subsite, growing further and farther apart, your frame slowly unfurled. Instinctively flicking your hands before your form, you tried to physically shake even a fraction of the excruciating sensation off of you, but without success.
Matt hadn’t moved an inch, simply stayed there right beside you.
When your quiet voice eventually filled space, it came out broken and overflowing with emotion, “I thought it was him… it wasn’t, b-but it sounded exactly like him… I’ve done double takes every time I saw a stranger with the same haircut or felt nauseous every time I encountered the same name, but this really did sound like him. Same voice, same accent, same everything… but it wasn’t him… it wasn’t… it just sent me right back, you know?”
Hesitantly, you grasped his hand in yours, expecting the contact to only make it worse, to somehow taint and ruin his wonderful and soothing touch, but it didn’t, he didn’t. It was Matt.
Trying to regain control of your breathing, you shakily sucked in deep breaths, feeling your gulps of air slowly become calmer and migrate from the very top of your chest, down to expand your sore stomach. Eyes only half open and utterly exhausted, you noticed that your head was now leaning against Matt’s shoulder.
Glancing hazily down at yourself, you muttered, “fuck… I still have my shoes and jacket on…”
Reaching down, he offered, “here,” before sliding your coat off, resting it on the back of the couch, and leaning down to pull your shoes off.
Curling your legs up onto the couch, the shift in your position offered you more relief than you’d expected. As you attempted to get as comfortable as you possibly could in the state you were in, you snatched up Matt’s hand once more.
Offering your palm a soothing squeeze, he asked quietly, “what do you need, huh? What can I do?”
“I–…” you thought, your brain just as drained as your body was, “I don’t know… maybe–… maybe just be here a bit?”
Exhaling lowly, he flashed you a faint smile, “of course.”
Glancing down at his fingers, sweeping across your own, you said, “hey, Matt? Could you maybe–, uh… could you give me a hug?”
Not hesitating, his strong arms engulfed your quivering frame and a fresh wave of sobs swiftly bubbled out of you as he held you tight, though your cries didn’t push him away, he stayed steadfast, embracing you close till the eruption ultimately simmered down, leaving you nearly asleep against his tear-stained shoulder.
As he gently lowered you down to lay on the couch, you tightened your grip on his shirt as he began to pull back, ushering him to sink down as well, allowing you to curl into his safe embrace and let slumber drift you away.
When you finally stirred, the sun was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey,” you blinked up at Matt still in the exact same spot as before.
“Hey,” you replied groggily, “what time is it?” swiftly fishing your phone out of your pant pocket before Matt could conjure an answer, “oh, fuck… it’s nearly midnight… did you sleep as well?”
“Not really,” he shrugged, “maybe for a little bit, but no.”
“Oh…” you breathed, averting your gaze.
“How are you feeling?” his thumb swiped your waist where his broad palm was planted.
“…I don’t know…” you exhaled, “…exhausted… sad… angry… really fucking angry… so angry that it kinda scares me…”
After a beat of silence, with only your woeful breaths filling the space, Matt then uttered, “I think I know something that might help a bit.”
Your gaze drifted from the faded paint on the walls to the worn punching bags as you and Matt sat on the edge of the central ring and his fingers worked at wrapping up your hands.
“Do you come here a lot?” you asked, your vision gliding back to him.
“From time to time,” he tilted his head slightly, “reminds me of my dad,” tucking the last end of the strip under the weave, securing it into place, he closed your hand into a fist and exhaled, “alright, you’re ready,” he adjusted your grip, briefly offering your wrist a squeeze as he said, “just remember to keep your wrist strong and your thumb right here,” he slid your finger down below your knuckles.
You hadn’t gone into it with much hope, in fact, it was only out of your desperation just feel better that you even humoured the experiment. In the beginning, it did feel as silly as you’d imagined, nearly stopped completely, but at some point in the mess of it all, your punches grew more ferocious, they grew more brutal, and suddenly something inside of you snapped and unravelled. It wasn’t some magic pill, but the physical act did loosen something within you and gave away to a fresh release of sobs, though not the painful and unbearable kind you’d had to endure earlier. It was the kind that felt like relief. Even if it wasn’t permanent, in that very moment, you didn’t feel like you were drowning anymore.
© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble
#lea’s writing#buttercup series#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock imagine#matt murdock fanfiction#matt murdock fanfic#matthew murdock imagine#matt murdock x y/n#matt murdock x you#daredevil x reader#matt murdock series#matthew murdock x reader#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock angst#matt murdock hurt/comfort
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Even before the episode, while rewatching old seasons, I was just struck by how big an impact Buck’s had on Eddie’s life.
Like, please, picture this:
You are Eddie Diaz, ok? An army vet who quite literally just went through an extremely traumatic experience, immediately got left by your wife and in a desperate move to find happiness for you and your son you move across the country to start a new life.
You are the new guy at work and this man about your age really has it out for you. That’s fine by you. You’ve put up with enough bullshit in the army, you are just here to do your work, it’s harder than that to get under your skin. Plus, this guy seems okay, aside from all the dick measuring, and you’re sure he’ll tire himself out if you just don’t play along. Then, oh surprise, after a single shift you give the guy one compliment and he folds completely, before you know it he’s decided you two are friends. Fine, good. You miss the army’s camaraderie. This will probably be just like that.
Few weeks in, Christopher comes up. You hesitate because you don’t like talking about your kid with strangers, but you are worried about him being out there alone during the earthquake and there’s really no way to avoid the subject forever. You’re already dreading the pity looks from people who don’t understand this kid is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Instead, you get a wide smile, “he’s super adorable, I love kids”. In retrospect, you should’ve expected it. What you don’t expect is the way Buck spends the entirety of the shift reassuring you that Chris is alright, even when you’re pretty sure you’ve done nothing to betray your worry (you know better than to panic, it does nothing to help), but Buck seems to notice anyway and keeps sprouting curiosities to reassure you. He even drives you across the torn up town at a reckless speed to make sure you can reach your son as soon as possible.
Few weeks later, abuela has an accident. Buck drives you to the hospital, even though you could’ve taken a cab to the firehouse to pick up your truck, and goes all the way in with you. He’s a good friend like that. Turns out, he’s a very good friend, because he catches you by surprise calling ahead to let the Cap know you need help with Chris and arranges a whole day of him hanging out with the 118. You didn’t ask for it, and he doesn’t expect so much as a ‘thank you’.
Next night, he makes a big deal of introducing you to a woman and you are already dreading, once again, the reveal moment when you have to explain that thank you very much but you are still married and really your only priority right now is your son and- wait, that woman is the perfect caretaker that might or might not be the solution you’ve been desperately searching for to get your and your son’s life together.
This guy you just met a few weeks ago has given you friendship, reassurance, company, thoughtful help without you ever asking (you’ve never been good at asking for it) and he’s just sitting there smiling proudly while he helps you possibly assure your kids future.
All of this... it happens in the first FOUR episodes of s2 after Eddie is introduced. No wonder he’s in love ride or die for Buck. Who wouldn’t be?
In a year, they are inseparable. In two years, Eddie makes him Christopher’s legal guardian in case he dies. In three, Buck saves his life. In four they are basically a family and the person Christopher goes to in a panic. Five years in, Buck is in a coma and Eddie Diaz cannot even look at him, cannot picture a world where he’s dead, cannot envision his life without him.
#eddie diaz#evan buck buckley#buddie#911 fox#911 spoilers#the way those first four episodes dramatically altered the trajectory of Eddie Diaz's life#no wonder he wasn't at all in the coma dream he was in another entire plane emotionally without Buck#anyway really hope they get a conversation next week where some of this is touched upon
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Now Loading...
Starring: Frat boy! Sukuna and a (possibly) pregnant reader
Synopsis: Funny how something as small as a grain of rice can cause a shift so massive in so many lives. Deny all he wants, you're having a baby and now Ryomen has to comes to terms with being a young dad. While it can be read on it's own, this is also part of the Frat Boy Au, which you can read here!
Content Warnings: a pregnancy scare, other than that, it's mostly fluff ;)
(Also, if yall want a song to go with the fic: New Mistakes by Jellyfish inspired it)
You had experienced time slowing down before. It slowed down as you walked across the stage for your high school graduation. It had slowed down again when you got your acceptance letter to college. It slowed down the first time you saw your now boyfriend, and when you met his mom for the first time. But it had never been slower than it was now, as you sat on your bed, staring at the Clearblue pregnancy test in your hand.
“Well, what’s it say?!” You roommate, Mei Mei, asked- arguably more nervous than you were. She knew Ryomen was bad news, but she didn’t think he was this fucking bad. She moved to try and take the test from your hand, only for Shoko to slap her shoulder.
“Stop making a bad situation worse Mei.” Shoko growled, irritated from not being able to light a cigarette during this high stress situation.
“Two lines…” You mumbled, not looking up from the stick, “Two lines, what does two lines mean!?” Their expressions told you everything you needed to know. Panic filled you as you dropped the test and grabbed a pillow to scream into. God, how could you have let this happen?! Your period was only a few days late, you had taken the test mostly to put Mei Mei at ease. You didn’t know if you were happy you took it or not anymore.
“It’s okay Y/n, we’ll figure this out.” Shoko sighed as she rubbed your back, failing to hide the disappointment in her voice.
“How am I supposed to tell him?!” You panicked as you ripped your head up from the pillow, “How do you tell someone you ruined there life?!”
“You ruined his life?!” Mei Mei scoffed in disbelief at the assertion, “You should be asking him how the hell he plans to make this up to you! He ruined your life!”
“Nobody's life is ruined!” Shoko snapped at the both of you. “It’s a baby not cancer, Jesus fucking Christ. And it’s not like you don’t have options. You’re the one in control here Y/n, whatever you want to happen will happen.” She said, motherly assurance uncharacteristically thick in her tone. It did make you feel a little bit better about the situation. You weren’t absolutely powerless here.
And it wasn’t like you were against being a mother. Quite the contrary, you liked the idea. Of course, you never thought it would be this soon in your life, but…the universe had a funny way of handling things. And if you were going to have a baby, you didn’t think you could have picked a better guy than Ryomen. He was loving, and kind, not to mention the fact he was guaranteed a good job out of college. But, you also knew that he was beyond nervous about being a dad one day, terrified by the notion of becoming his own father.
“I need to talk to Ryomen.” You sighed.
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“Dude, In what world does a theoretical physicist need to know about the themes of The Metamorphosis, so a dude becomes a bug, so wh-”
“Hey, shut up Y/n just texted me.” Ryomen cut Satoru off as he checked his phone, the buzzing alerting him to a notification. They were sitting next to each other on the couch, venting about classes they hated. Sugruru was sitting on the arm of the couch closest to Satoru, and Nanami taking up an entire love seat across from them as he played on his own phone. It was a relief to have an excuse to end this conversation really. Ryomen did not have it in him to try and listen to his frat brother straight up misunderstand classic literature for the millionth time.
“And you couldn’t wait to answer it until I finished my sen-”
“No, Y/n texted.” Ryomen said without looking up from his phone, but trusting his tone got across his annoyance. Satoru knew you took precedence, Ryomen didn't know why he was acting like you didn’t all of the sudden.
“And she couldn't wait for two-”
“Are you still talking?” Ryomen snapped. Satoru let out an irritated grumble, frustrated he couldn’t go on his (ill informed) rant about how classic American literature, and literature in general, was useless. “Y/n wants to come over.” Ryomen informed his frat brothers. “Like, now.”
“What’s up with Y/n?” Suguru asked from his spot on the arm of couch, deciding it was safe to enter the conversation now that there was no hope of Satoru going on his rant.
“No clue, she just says we need to talk.” He grumbled softly as he typed on his phone. It wasn’t like you to be this cagey about anything, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t concern him at least a little.
“Dude, shes gonna break up with you.” Satoru's mouth moved faster than his brain did, and for it he got a swift elbow to the stomach.
“No she’s not.” Ryomen hissed. “She just wants to talk.”
“It’s probably to make plans for fall break, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Nanami said, quickly getting irritated with all the arguing.
“Yeah, the dorms close in, what, like two weeks?” Suguru confirmed, “She’s probably gonna ask to stay with your family so she doesn't have to fly back to her own.”
“You’re probably right.” Ryomen took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. That made sense. You got along great with his mom and brother, and your own family basically not at all. It tracked that you would rather drive a few hours and spend a week with people you liked than fly out to people you didn’t. Yeah, that made sense. Yeah.
So why did he still feel so anxious?
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Ryomen had never been more convinced that you were going to leave him than he was now. As you sat across from him on the bed, starring at your fidgeting hands as if they held the secrets to the universe. Something was palpably wrong, he could feel it hanging in a thick veil between the two of you. He didn’t know if he should reach beyond it to hold you, or give you your space and let you come to him. He settled on nervously picking at his nails.
“So, uh, you wanted to talk?” He asked.
“Yeah, I, uh..I’m just trying to think of how to say this.” You muttered. He felt the color drain from his life when you said that. What did he do? Was it about Amy- or whatever the fuck her name was? That was a month ago now, surly it wasn’t that. Was it someone else? That thought made Ryomen realize that actually, he was capable of murder.
He could feel his jaw clench at the thought of you with another man, white hot rage filling his hands and emotions while images of you with a stranger flashed in his head against his will. What the fuck did that asshole have that he didn’t? What made them think they were worthy of your smile, of your laugh, of you? Who did they think they were?
“Ryomen, I’m pregnant.”
“He’ll never love you like I do.” There was a thick silence of a different variety as they two of you spoke over each other, both of you trying to process what the other said.
“A-are you saying the…baby won’t love me?” You weren’t offended, you were just confused.
“You’re fucking pregnant?” Ryomen could feel his entire world shifting in real time. Thank god you weren’t leaving, but…Pregnant?
“Yeah, that’s what I said, what did You say?” You questioned again, trying to figure out where the fuck that came from. Of all the things you expected him to say, it wasn’t whatever he said.
“It doesn’t really matter what I said, forget I said anything, how long have you known?” He asked, finally pushing past the veil to wrap his arms around you.
“Like…maybe thirty minuets?” You sighed, rubbing your face as the stress came back. “My period was a week late, so…I took a test, and well…Baby.” You still weren’t sure this was all real.
Ryomen felt the world freeze around him as reality took hold. A dad? He couldn’t be a fucking dad. He was in his fucking twenties, he still had two years left until he graduated, he couldn’t be a dad yet! He thought about his own father, who buckled under the pressure and ran off the moment things got hard. What if he inherited that kind of cowardice? Hell, he didn’t even have the spine to tell his dad to fuck off when he came back in his life after eleven years of radio silence just to completely take control of his future, how the fuck was he supposed to raise a child?!
“Babygirl, that’s amazing!” He smiled, pulling you into his lap and kissing your forehead, “You’re going to be an amazing mom.”
“You think so?” You whispered, taking some comfort in his confidence, It eased your own fear about the uncertain future.
“Of course I do.” He assured you with the grin that got you into this mess in the first place. Ryomen was fucking petrified of what came next, and he could tell you were too. To him, easing your fear was the most important thing. He could have his own freak out later, right now he needed to be here for you.
And his words did the trick. Slowly you could feel the tension melting from your shoulders as it settled in that he wasn’t mad, and you weren’t in this alone. “God, I was so scared you where going to leave.” You confessed, feeling the tears pool in the corner of your eyes. His arms tightened around you, holding you like he feared you might be the one to run.
“I’m not going anywhere Babygirl, I promise,” He swore to you, kissing the top of your head, “Wherever you are, that’s were I’ll be. Right next to you and our baby.” His smile was so reassuring, for a second, you actually felt hopeful for the future. He pulled your face to his, and you melted into his kiss.
Ryomen laid with you in his bed, cuddling and talking softly until you finally passed out. He insisted on you staying the night with him, if for no other reason than he found comfort in having you near. He waited until he knew you were in a deep sleep, breathing softly and steadily. He kissed your cheek before he slipped out of bed, into the kitchen for a beer, then out to the balcony to drink it. He was leaning against the old wooden railing, running a hand through his hair as he tried to visualize what his future would look like now.
“So a baby, huh?” He nearly jumped out of his skin at Suguru's voice.
“Jesus fucking Christ, a warning Geto!” He hissed as he took a drink of the cheap beer, giving Suguru the side eye as he leaned next to him.
“Sorry, I’ll make sure to yell at the top of my lungs everywhere I go from now on.” Suguru chuckled softly.
“How do you know we’re having a baby?” Suguru grimaced a little at the pink haired mans question, knowing he got the information through unethical means.
“Satoru listened in on yours and Y/n conversation.” He said as if his ear wasn’t pressed up against the door too, “Sorry.”
“Mmm.” Ryomen groaned, not wanting to accept the apology, but acknowledging it none the less.
“So…whats the plan?” Suguru asked the question no one really wanted to ask, but everyone wanted the answer to.
“The plan is I’m going to be a dad, I guess.” Ryomen grumbled, not really use to the idea yet. He took another drink.
“Well, in that case, congratulations then!” Suguru smiled, taking the cheap beer from Ryomen’s hand and lifting it up, “To the new dad! You’ll do great.” He said as he took a drink.
“Gee, thanks you’re too kind.” Ryomen scoffed.
“Hey man, I’m serious.” Suguru insisted, “I think you’ll be a great dad, if for no other reason than cause your dad sucked. You have the perfect example of what not to do.”
“No I don’t.” Ryomen argued, stress edging into his tone against his will, “My dad wasn’t even there to show me what to not do, he was fucking gone! I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do!” His panic was getting the better of him. He took his beer back and took another drink.
“No one does.” Suguru chuckled, still as calm as ever. “You think this shit comes with a manual? No parent in the long history of parenting has ever known what they were doing. But, you’re worried about it. You’re worried about being a good dad. And that’s further than any shitty parent gets. Probably further than you’re dad got. It shows you care man. And besides, you’ll have Y/n with you. She’s going to be a fantastic mom. If shes got the patience to deal with us, a toddler will be a breeze.”
“I don’t know man. What if…what if I am just like my dad?” Ryomen muttered. He looked just like him. He was going to take over his business. Hell, after his dad forced him to be a business major, Ryomen even changed his last name back to his fathers. It made sense at the time, a Sukuna should be the one to take over the Sukuna family business. But, now? Now that he had to pass that last name on? He wasn’t sure he wanted it. “What if it’s just…in my blood to be my dad?”
Suguru actually laughed at that, hard enough to embarrass the man next to him. “Ryomen, being a shitty person is not genetic I assure you. If it was, Nanami would be a lot more insufferable. It’s not up to our parents to decide who we are as people, that for us to decide and us alone. You’re not your DNA sequencing, you’re the actions that you take and the choices that you make. Your father has no control over that.”
“I mean…yeah. I guess you’re right.” Ryomen muttered, taking another drink before handing the bottle back to Suguru. As cliche as it may have been to say, he was starting to feel better. Maybe he wasn't doomed to be his father. Maybe the Sukuna name wasn’t a death sentence.
“Of course I’m right.” Suguru grinned as he finished off the beer. “So what are you going to do now?” He asked.
“Now?” Ryomen sighed, “Now I need to go talk to my mom.”
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It was a week before Ryomen found the time to make the drive home. A week that he spent attached to your hip. A week making sure you didn’t have to lift up a single thing, a week of threatening anyone who dared smoke around you, and a week of coming to terms with his new future. The two of you had spent the time researching doctors, and on baby forums looking for advice. He was relieved to admit, he kinda became fond of the idea of having a little baby running around.
He started to imagine what they would look like, what they would sound like, and what their favorite color would be. Money wouldn’t be an issue once he took over Malevolent Shrine International, so he wasn’t worried about that. Honestly, you wouldn't have to work if you didn’t want to, and if you did want to he could afford child care. The two- No. The three of you were going to be okay. He hoped it would be only three.
He knocked on the door of his childhood home, having forgot his key and not being willing to go all the way back for it. Much to his dismay, Yuji answered the door.
“Sorry, sign says no solicitors.” He said, quickly trying to close the door. Ryomen was fast to push against him, trying to get his body through the crack in the entry.
“Open the door brat or I’m going to wipe your hard drive.” Ryomen threatened,
“College hasn’t changed you one bit, has it?” Yuji scoffed, sticking his tongue out at his brother.
“It’s made me more prone to violence, wanna see?” Ryomen growled as he pushed against the door harder. Yuji stood firm though, an immovable object to Ryomen’s unstoppable force.
“I’m going to tell Y/n you said that!” It was Yuji’s turn to threaten, “I’m also going to tell her that you beat me up! And you’re mean! And that you kick kittens!”
“Why you little-” Ryomen finally got his arm through the small space, almost getting a hand on his little brother before his mothers voice brought the entire show to a halt.
“Are you two Trying to break my door?!” She sounded exasperated, “Yuji, let your brother in!” The moment their mother got involved the boys remembered how to act, with Yuji calmly opening the door and Ryomen walking in like he wasn’t just trying to strangle his little sibling.
“Hi Mom.” He said, smiling warmly as she came up and hugged him.
“Hi Honey,” She said, giving him a soft pat on the cheek. “Wheres Y/n? I made coffee.”
“She had a test today, she couldn’t make it.” He said. That was a lie. You were completely free, but, he didn't want you here for this conversation.
“Mmm, you know your ears turn red when you lie, right?” His mom laughed as she walked to the kitchen. He followed her with a roll of his eyes, sitting at the kitchen table.
“She was busy, alright?” He defended himself as his mom put a coffee cup in front of him, sitting across from him with her own.
“Sure. So what did you need to talk about sweetie?” She asked. Ryomen took a moment to really study his mom. She didn’t look so different from how he remembered her in his childhood. A few more wrinkles, a lot more gray hair, but still his mother none the less. He wondered how she felt when she realized she was having a baby.
“So, um…Y/n is…” He couldn’t make eye contact.
“Ryomen, don’t tell me you got that poor girl pregnant.” She gasped, putting down her mug and looking at him with demanding eyes.
“Why would you jump to that?!” He tried to deflect.
“Then tell me she’s not.” She said, looking at him with a scowl that dared him to try and lie.
“....She is.” He sighed, taking a drink from his coffee to get away from her disappointed gaze.
“Sweet Jesus...” His mom sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. Then she laughed a little, shaking her head with a soft smile she tried to hide behind her coffee cup.
“What?” He asked. She shook her head again.
“Nothing just…well, I guess I was around your age when I had you. A little younger. You can’t really be mad at the apple for not falling too far from the tree now, can you?” She chuckled softly, and it put Ryomen at ease. So she wasn’t going to eviscerate him. Good.
“Yeah, well…Gotta honor some family traditions, am I right?” He tried to joke, only to be quickly shut up by his mothers disapproving glare.
“So whats your plan big man?” She asked, “You’re not going to leave her alone with this, that’s for damn sure.”
“No mom, I couldn’t even imagine-”
“Good, cause I’ll choose Y/n over you every time.” She teased.
“I know mom.” He smiled, “Good to know you like her, cause that makes this question a lot easier to ask.”
“Oh?” He really caught her attention now.
“I was wondering, do you know where Grandmas wedding ring is?” He bit his lip as he finally said it out loud. Even before you were pregnant, every time Ryomen imagined his future, it was always with you as his wife. He couldn’t conceive of a life without you by his side, now more so than ever. He was going to make things right, and unlike his own dad, he wasn’t going to wait for the second baby to do it. He knew he was on the right track when he saw his mothers proud smile.
“As a matter of a fact, I think I do. I think I know where some of your old baby clothes are too, hold on.”
🍼🍼🍼
“Ryo!” You smiled as he walked into the entry of the frat house, carrying a walmart bag of old baby clothes. You were down the stairs and in his arms in an instant, laughing happily as you jumped to him. He caught you with a grin, spinning you around before putting you back on the ground.
“I could get used to that.” He teased. You smiled and rolled your eyes playfully at him.
“I’m sure you could. Ryo, I have amazing news, I- wait, what’s in the bag?” You asked as your brain finally registered that there was something in his hand.
“Oh, yeah!” He smiled excitedly as he put the bag on the coffee table, “Remember how I went to talk to my mom? She says hi by the way, but look! She still had some of mine and Yuji’s old baby clothes!” He said, pulling out a truly precious onesie, covered in stars and a rocket ship, followed by a red, blue, and yellow stripped jumper.
“Oh baby-” You sighed as you realized your good news might actually not be good news.
“I know it’s not a lot, and its all kinda old and used, but it’s a start, you know? Something to bring the baby home in.” He said, putting the clothes down and wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Baby, I’m not pregnant.” You dropped that like a nuke. He blinked at you as he tried to process what you just said.
“Huh?”
“I’m not pregnant Ryomen, I’m sorry. I got my period.” You said, gently cupping his cheek. You did not expect a reaction like this at all. Confusion, sure, but not…disappointment?
“But I thought you took a test?” He asked, trying to catch up to reality.
“I did, but it must have been a false positive. Apparently that’s pretty common with my birth control.”
“Oh…” He wasn’t expecting to feel so upset about this either. Like the entire world he had build up in his mind was gone. He realized he was going to be mourning the death of someone who truly never existed, and felt so ridiculous about it. He didn’t realize he was tearing up until you brushed a tear off his cheek.
“I’m sorry Ryo…but, hey! Look on the bright side, we get to keep our twenties!” You chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. He smiled gently and nodded.
“You’re right it’s just…I don’t know. I kinda liked the idea of starting a family with you.” He confessed softly, an idea that would have made his skin crawl just a little over a year ago. You really did force him to grow up. You laughed a little more sincerely this time, and gave him a quick kiss.
“Sorry Ryo, if you want a family, you’re gonna have to upgrade from the girlfriend package to the wifey bundle.” You teased him.
“Y/n!” Gojo yelled from up the stairs, “Nanami got tired of waiting for you, he un-paused the game!” You paled as you realized that Nanami was unfairly demolishing you at street fighter.
“Hey! That’s illegal!” You yelled as you ran up the stairs to try and salvage the round. Ryomen watched as you ran away, an unfamiliar fondness growing in his chest. Normally, he would have been unbelievably jealous you were hanging out with his friends- especially without him. Now though? He saw it as a good sign.
“Upgrade, huh?” He muttered, mostly to himself. His hand dropped into his pocket, clutching the ring box there. “Don’t worry Y/n. I plan on it.” He promised as he went up stairs to join you.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#jjk frat boy au#frat boy sukuna#sukuna fluff#domestic sukuna#curseless au#dad sukuna#sukuna x reader fluff
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✿Reminds me of you~
•Giving your husband some flowers~
•Characters: Chuuya, Sigma
Part 2
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✿ Chuuya
You were walking to go home as you spotted a flower shop as you said to yourself why not to buy your husband one?
You decided to pick red roses since he loved them and suits him a lot.
After an hour of waiting, your husband as it came home tired and exhausted from work. "I told you, doll, you didn't have to wait for me."
You excitedly hugged him and wanted to see his reaction you're about to give to him.
"I have something to give you..! and a consideration for being a lovable husband."
Chuuya’s eyes opened softly at your words. He was interested now, but he had to ask. His eyebrows raised as he looked at you, a playful smirk coming on to his face.
“Now you have my attention, Doll. What’d you wanna give me~?”
You get the boquet of red roses and giving it to him with a smile
"Ta da..~"
Chuuya’s eyes widened at the sight of the beautiful bouquet of red roses. A thoughtful gift? Such a loving gesture? From his wife? He felt himself growing flustered. He had to stay cool. Had to…
“You got these… for me?” He murmured, his hands reaching out to clasp the bouquet. He then took a long sniff of its potent scent, the roses giving off a lovely, calming and sweet fragrance. A smell that would always be associated with you and you alone.
“Thank you… Doll, but why this suddenly? Just for being a good husband? Isn’t that just… what I’m supposed to be doing?"
"Of course im giving it to you cause i love you..!" you said.
He chuckled and as a blush getting more visible to his cheeks.
"I love you too, doll..." He said and planted a kiss from your lips.
Seeing him with the bouquet of roses making your heart melt... this is such a memory from both of you that impossibly can not forget.
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✿ Sigma
It's finally the day you're going to visit your husband at the Sky Casino, You were all prepared to meet him as you just hope that he's not overworking himself again.
You arrived at the Sky Casino as you forgot something. Right..! Your gift for your husband... you were panicking as you remember you left it on the doorway as you got distracted seeing your sunflowers that you planted grew. As you have an idea to give him something the way you view him.
Finally, you and your husband meet up as he looks tired and worn out. "Dear, i missed you..." He said as he hugged you.
You hugged him back and feeling each others embrace, Sigma felt warm and safe. This is all he could ever want.
"I wanna give you something," you said.
Sigma’s eyes seemed like they would light up at the mention of getting a present.
“Really? What is it?” He asked in a quiet and loving voice.
You gave your husband the sunflower as his eyes widened as he was fascinated by the sunflower.
"Is this... what you planted last month?, It really bloomed beautiful."
"Mhm.. it really reminds me of you..."
You could see the blush that spread across your husband's cheeks, as he said.
“It does? How so?” He asked in a quiet voice as he looked at the sunflower, then you with those grey eyes of his before a small smile spread across his lips.
"Well... even the appearance is not that similar to you, but the way you always make me positive and love me makes me even fall for you even more"
His cheeks turned even redder as he looked at you.
“I-Is that so…?” He asked in a soft and barely audible voice as he blushed. Sigma would then look at the sunflower as he smiled back at you.
“So… this little flower resembles that…?” He asked with a slight smile as he held the sunflower tightly.
“…You know… whenever I have doubts about myself or the casino or sometimes I panic… sometimes even when you are not around… I can hold that flower and remember how much you love me… how much you support me and make me feel special…” He said as he looked at the sunflower with warm eyes.
“…I don’t say this out loud very often… but… I really do love you a lot.” He finished as his lips parted in the softest and cutest smile you've ever seen...
I-.. I love you too. You said, smiling back to him warmly.
As now both of you were flustered by those words you've exchanged to eachother. You were really glad to marry him.
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#bsd x reader#bsd x gender neutral reader#bsd fluff#bsd x you#bsd x y/n#chuuya x reader#sigma x reader
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"how to get your crush to like you back in 3 easy steps"
or: dan heng likes you. march knows.
dan heng x f!reader. pining fools and idiots in love. march is close to having a metaphorical heart attack. cliche shoujo stuff.
"you have a crush on her."
"i absolutely do not."
march fixes dan heng with an unimpressed gaze. "you are literally so obvious, don't even try and deny it again."
obvious? he's obvious? dan heng tries not to panic. in a poor attempt to salvage the unsalvageable, he says, lamely, "...i don't know what you're talking about."
graciously preserving the little dignity he has left, march ignores him. she claps him on the shoulder sympathetically. "don't worry, i'm a pro wingwoman. i accept payment in the form of desserts."
dan heng's right eye twitches.
1. show interest in their interests, pay attention to them.
that's easy, he thinks to himself. he always pays attention to you, it comes naturally to him. he knows how you prefer your coffee with a dash of milk and honey, not too sweet. he knows how you always start books but rarely ever finish them unless they were "really good and checked all my boxes!" and could go on thesis-worthy rants about your favourite ones. he knows how you like to keep succulents on your table and give them all ridiculous names like "king coin of doge land" and "a rad little guy".
so easy, in fact, that he feels the most confident he's ever been as he strides across the room over to you. you’re fiddling with something, looking vaguely nervous as you talk to march.
"good morning." he greets, eyeing the newest project you seem to be occupied with in your hands. a crotchet dragon, how nice. he knows exactly how to keep the conversation going now—
"what's cookin', good lookin'?"
his brain short circuits.
what is he supposed to say to that? were you flirting? does he flirt back? was it just a phrase? what's cooking-?
"but i'm not on cooking duty today."
dan heng watches your face freeze in confusion. his face feels like stone. to the side, march looks like she’s about to strangle him.
"...uh huh."
an awkward silence hangs in the air. dan heng wishes he was a statue.
— a failure, cut your losses and move on.
2. compliment something they’ve put effort into.
“please elaborate.”
“say something you like about her.” march takes a bite of her parfait (courtesy of dan heng), “but it has to be something she put conscious thought into. it shows that you notice the little things, and it makes her feel good about herself which makes her feel good about you. bam! two birds with one stone.”
dan heng only feels more confused. “but i like everything about her.”
even with the sweet treat in her mouth, march looks like she tasted something sour.
“so do i compliment her on everything i can think of?”
“no, no. you-“ march heaves a sigh, “pick one. just one.”
when he sees you in the archive room, he notices the now completed crotchet dragon in your hand. he decides that this is the perfect time to redeem himself.
“it’s well-made. i like the teal colour.” he says, and mentally congratulates himself for not messing up right off the bat (again).
“thank you, it’s, um, actually supposed to be the dragon you summon.”
“oh.” dan heng’s mind had been so occupied with march’s plans and you that he didn’t even make the connection. he feels just a little stupid.
“…and it’s for you.”
“oh.” a gift from you? and it was made exclusively to represent him, with hours of effort? he is in shock.
he must have taken too long to answer, because you notice the hesitation. flushing with embarrassment, you say “it’s a little much, huh? sorry.”
dan heng doesn’t manage to get a word in (because he would love to have the crotchet dragon, thank you very much!) before you scurry out the door. it clicks as it shuts, his outstretched hand reaching for nothing but air.
— i don’t want to call you a dumbass, but you’re kind of being a dumbass.
3. find time alone with them.
“i’ll help you with this one. but when you’re alone with her, you’re on your own.” march looks mildly concerned, “…will you be ok?”
“of course.” he says, and it’s merely bravado.
“right, well, i managed to convince mr. yang, miss himeko, and pom pom to visit this café with me—you’re paying, of course—it’s a rare opportunity so make full use of it, ‘kay?”
alone on the express. with you. no one else. no big deal, he tries to convince himself.
they keyword is ‘tries’, of course.
when the time comes, he gathers all the courage he has and, hopefully nonchalantly, asks you to watch a movie with him with a mini projector march had lent him beforehand. you agree, and it’s the first hurdle cleared. no mishaps so far.
“i’ll make you coffee, the way you like it.” he offers, and feels a flutter in his chest when you smile. if he could, he would bottle the feeling you gave him up and ration it throughout the rest of his life.
“i would love that.”
he gets to work, prepping the sugar and honey as he waits for the water to boil. the conversation between the two of you comes easily, as if the recent incidents didn’t happen at all, and dan heng feels the familiar serenity that comes from being in your presence. it was quiet save for your conversation, and the backdrop of stars outside the train seemed to be even more mesmerising than usual.
but of course, not everything goes according to plan.
the astral express, which had been sailing through the stars so smoothly, lurches from sudden turbulence. you bump against the kettle when you try to stabilise yourself and knock it over. boiling water spills all over the counter and onto the floor.
“watch out!”
not wanting you to be scalded, he grabs your arm and tries to push you away with his back towards the spillage. but his foot steps on the water and he slips, falling forward.
the two of you land on the floor in a heap, inches away from the spill. pure reflexes allow him to minimise the impact of your head meeting the floor by using his other hand as a cushion. he thinks he has bruised his knuckles. he has sprained his wrist.
the thought of the compromising position doesn’t even cross either of your minds. you crawl out from underneath him, and, perceptive as ever, notice when he rubs his wrist and winces.
“dan heng! are you ok?” you fuss over him, hands flitting over his wrist. dan heng feels like he would have enjoyed the attention more if he wasn’t so disappointed that his plans were disrupted. it had been going so well, he mourns. he watches as your back disappears around the corner with promises of finding the first aid kit.
it’s hard for the previous tranquil atmosphere to come back when you obviously felt bad about his wrist (even thought he assured you it was alright and not to worry), and his plans were derailed. the both of you work together to clean up the mess, which took some time, and try to enjoy the movie, but the momentum was lost.
— …
“what do you mean all my plans went bust? i worked so hard to convince pom pom to come with me!” march looks at you in horror.
“i don’t know! i thought you said you were a pro at this! i tried the pick-up line, i tried giving him a gift, and i even spent time alone with him, nothing worked! am I just inept at this love thing?” you shake her by the shoulders, tears of frustration on the edge of falling. march could only feel wronged.
“oh my god. you’re both idiots.”
#march has an aneurysm#so dumb#i want to give dan heng a fat kiss#writings#dan heng x reader#dan heng#hsr x reader#hsr fluff#hsr dan heng#hsr
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Faking It | Part VI
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader
AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE YOU GUYS!! This chapter took a lot out of me for some reason, but I'm pretty content with where we're at. Hope you like it!
PS. You will like it.
PPS. I promise you, you will like it XD
Summary: Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.
CW: swearing, minor angst, FLUFFITY FLUFF
Start from the beginning: Part I
“Chicken is good,” Bradley says to his dinner plate.
Across the table, your aunt makes an enthusiastic sound in agreement and continues chewing.
“Delicious,” you respond curtly.
Bradley looks over at you, so you turn your head to meet his gaze. “Yours is better, darling,” he says, feigning a cordial tone, but you can see past the charade. He’s just as angry with you as you are with him.
“Her mushroom stuffed chicken is divine,” your mother chimes in.
“It’s her specialty,” Bradley says, quoting a line from the notes you’d given him to prepare for the weekend because, obviously, he’s never had your mushroom stuffed chicken. He presses his lips together although the smile he aims at you is acerbic.
You try your best not to roll your eyes at him.
“Does Bradley cook?” your aunt asks, watching the two of you with interest.
You glance at her in alarm, unsure how to respond since you don’t know the answer. You could make something up; nobody would know any better, but somehow that seems more dishonest than pretending he’s your boyfriend.
“I do, actually,” Bradley intervenes. You look at him gratefully and he returns your gaze with a slight nod. “Y/N is particularly fond of my shepherd’s pie.”
Your mother cringes at Bradley. “Y/N hates ground meat. She won’t even eat burgers.”
Bradley stares at your mother, speechless for a moment, while you try to keep your composure despite the rapidly encroaching panic.
“It’s uh… vegetarian,” he says quickly.
“Vegetarian shepherd’s pie?” your aunt asks. “Never heard of such a thing.”
“Mm-hm.” You start to nod vigorously. “It’s so good.”
“What do you make it with?” your mother asks and everybody at the table seems farcically fascinated with the concept of vegetarian shepherd’s pie.
You feel like the air is being sucked from your lungs as you watch Bradley purse his lips while he stalls. “Bradley, I totally forgot to bring my shawl from the chalet and I’m cold,” you say.
Bradley raises his eyebrows at you and you know exactly what he’s thinking: that it’s about a million degrees in this place. “Here.” He starts shrugging off his suit jacket and you nearly groan because he must know that you’re not actually cold.
You give him a pointed look as he starts to drape the jacket over your shoulders. “I’d really prefer my shawl,” you say, trying to keep the severity out of your tone.
“Oh, don’t make him go all the way back to the rooms, Y/N,” your aunt says sympathetically. Then, she adds, “He still has to tell us about this shepherd’s pie. I wouldn’t mind grabbing the recipe.” She beams at him.
“It’s uh,” Bradley says, “exactly like the one with meat. Except, you know, without it.” Bradley responds uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
“There’s got to be more to it.” Your mother narrows her eyes. “Is it a secret?”
“What? No, of course not!” Bradley chuckles. Then, he says, “Oh! I love this song!” He jumps up from his chair. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s dance!”
You stare at him in horror, trying to determine exactly what song is playing over the hum of dinner conversation. The dance floor is empty because everyone is still eating. “I’m actually not a huge fan of” –
But Bradley doesn’t let you finish the sentence because he grabs your hand and pulls you out of your seat so quickly that his jacket flies off your shoulders.
“Don’t you worry,” your grandmother says, leaning down to pick up the jacket and hanging it over the back of your chair. “Go have fun, you two.”
You let out a sigh as Bradley drags you out into the middle of the dance floor, already grooving to the music as he walks. Now that you’re closer to the speakers, you recognize the song that apparently Bradley loves.
He tugs on your hand, forcing you to turn toward him, and you catch his eyes sweeping over your face before meeting your gaze. He lifts your hand, drawing you closer while taking you by the waist. He’s shimmying his shoulders to the beat, his lips curling into a smirk when you start to move your hips reluctantly.
When the chorus kicks in, Bradley starts to sing along. “Ooh baby, I love your way.” His voice is a little raspy and a lot sexy. You feel the now familiar turbulence wreak havoc on your organs, but Bradley continues his serenade, completely unaware of just exactly what it’s doing to you.
You feel your scowl dissolve as Bradley tries to engage you in the dancing by moving your arms around. You start to laugh when he twists you this way and that as he sings at the top of his lungs. Before long, you forget exactly why you’ve been upset with him, and your irritation seems hardly relevant at all, especially considering the lengths to which he’s going in order to keep up appearances.
Bradley extends his arm out and spins you before bringing you flush against his body. Your hips align with his and the two of you sway together from side to side, his hand clutching yours to his chest as he sings, “I wanna tell you I love your way, everyday. I wanna be with you night and day.”
When the next song comes on, other guests begin to step out onto the dance floor. “Might be safer to just stay out here,” he says, shrugging.
You nod. “Chicken wasn’t very good anyway,” you say, thinking of your half-finished dinnerplate.
He laughs. “Here’s hoping the cake will be chocolate,” he says, already dancing to the next song.
You chuckle, starting to move more freely to the upbeat music.
Bradley smiles at you appreciatively, grabbing your hand to swing you to the side while you grin, admiring his dancing skills. The DJ is playing all the old classics and you are both thoroughly enjoying the familiar melodies.
Several songs in, when the two of you are moderately out of breath, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see your sister’s smiling face. She leans in to whisper in your ear, “You guys look super cute together!”
The words send a bittersweet ripple through you because, on the one hand, it means your ruse has been a success but, on the other, it’s all a farce. Your feelings toward Bradley might be genuine, but Bradley is here as your friend. And he’s faking the rest of it. Nevertheless, you shoot your sister a wide grin, grateful for her support.
A few minutes later, Aly shows up to claim her dance with Bradley. You step aside and watch on as Bradley takes the girl’s hands and starts twirling her around with a giant smile on his face. He seems pleased that she’s remembered to find him. You laugh when he picks her up and swings her, feet first, on either side of his body. Aly is giggling merrily and, as he sets her back down, Bradley glances up at you briefly, giving you a lopsided grin and a wink.
The night seems to fly by as you and Bradley spend the majority of it on the dance floor. When your sister goes to do the bouquet toss, your mother pushes you into the throng of single women gathering eagerly behind the bride. You eye your mother crossly but, when you catch the amused smirk on Bradley’s face, you suddenly want to catch the damn bouquet.
The battle for the flying flowers is unexpectedly aggressive. There is a lot more elbowing than you’d expect, as well as a fair amount of shoving, kicking, and toe stomping. But, for some reason, you are determined to win. You end up catching the bouquet despite the numerous hands obstructing your view, and you turn back to your table and do a little victory dance as you walk back toward Bradley. He laughs at you, shaking his head.
“You’re such a goof,” he mutters in a low voice as you approach him, but the expression he wears is something reminiscent of fondness.
You drop your eyes because his gaze makes you blush. “Your turn,” you say in a sing-song voice, and he passes a hand over your stomach as he proceeds to join the rest of the bachelors awaiting the toss of the garter.
Your aunt cozies up to you as you watch Bradley approach the group of men on the floor. “I like him,” she says.
You turn to her in surprise.
“Don’t look so shocked,” she says. “I think he’s perfect for you.”
“More perfect than Steven?” you ask pointedly.
“Eh,” your aunt shrugs. “I never cared for Steven.”
“But he’s a doctor!” you exclaim in mock outrage, trying to emulate your mother’s tone when she’d learned of your decision to break up.
Your aunt chuckles. “Steven is a pompous ass.”
“Can you tell my mother that?”
Your aunt turns to face you. “I’ve never seen you look at Steven the way you look at Bradley.”
You bite your lip, wondering if she might also have noticed the way Bradley looks at you when you aren’t paying attention. But you can’t ask her that, so you turn back to observe the garter toss in silence.
You see that Steven has stepped into the crowd where he and Bradley promptly exchange menacing glares with one another. Bradley then turns his head to glance back at you over his shoulder. You wave at him just as the groom throws the garter and, by the time Bradley looks back, Steven jumps up to grab it.
You hold your breath as Steven dangles the garter in front of Bradley’s face and, for a moment, Bradley looks like he might punch him for being an idiot. But then Bradley lets out a long breath and turns to walk back toward you with a scowl.
“What does it mean?” he asks as he approaches you.
“Well,” you say. “Obviously it means that Steven and I are meant to be and that we’ll be getting married and having a bunch of babies.”
Bradley watches you impassively. “You’re funny,” he says. You smile at him mildly and he steps closer, wrapping his arm around you. “He’ll have to get past me first,” he mutters, and his words inspire yet another flutter in your gut that leaves you feeling buzzed.
But the sensation is interrupted by Steven’s arrogant drawl. “Shall we?” he says, and you turn to see him standing right behind you. “They’re waiting for us.”
You narrow your eyes at him as Bradley’s grip tightens on your hip. “Who’s waiting for us?”
“It’s customary for the woman who catches the bouquet and the man who catches the garter to dance,” your aunt says with a grimace.
You blink at her defeatedly and then glance up worriedly at Bradley. He lifts an eyebrow and squints his eyes, his hold loosening around your waist. “It’s just a dance,” he says, seeing the discomfort on your face. “Don’t let him get to you.”
You nod, releasing a wavering sigh, and turn toward Steven. “Let’s get this over with,” you say.
Steven grins at you. “That’s the spirit,” he says, taking your hand to lead you out onto the now empty dance floor. He glances over his shoulder as the two of you make your way to the center, a faint smirk materializing on his face when his eyes lock on Bradley.
Steven places his hand on your side and pulls you closer when the song starts. As the two of you slowly rotate, you can see Bradley watching you from the sidelines, a hard expression coloring his features.
Steven brings you into an embrace. “Feels like old times,” he says.
“Not really,” you respond coldly, trying to regain some space between your bodies.
“Don’t tell me you’re serious about this aviator,” he says.
You glance up at him indignantly. “Of course, I’m serious about him. I wouldn’t have brought him to my sister’s wedding if I weren’t.”
He chuckles. “You forget that I know you very well,” he says.
You swallow, wondering what he’s getting at.
Steven eyes you with a devious smirk. “He’s not your boyfriend,” he says.
“Excuse me?” you say, offended and anxious in equal measure.
He chuckles. “Sure, maybe he’s a friend,” he says, shrugging. “But that dude is not dating you.”
“What are you talking about?” You want to ask how he could tell, but you don’t want to give anything away.
“The closest you have gotten to each other is a quick hug here and there. You look like you’re afraid to touch him,” he says. “So, the question is, why did you feel the need to bring him? You didn’t know I’d be here, so it wasn’t to make me jealous.”
“You’ve got it wrong,” you scoff.
He raises his eyebrows. “It’s your mom, isn’t it? She’s pushing you to start dating again. She’s always been a big fan of mine.”
You roll your eyes. “Stop talking, Steven.”
Steven brings his face closer to yours. “Making me jealous is just an added benefit, isn’t it? Well, I’m here to tell you that it worked. Even if you aren’t actually dating the guy.”
“I couldn’t care less how you feel about my relationship,” you respond, gritting your teeth.
Steven chuckles. “‘Relationship’,” he repeats, using his right hand to make air quotes.
You’re seething so much that your head starts to hurt and, just as you’re about to walk away from him, you feel a soft touch along your shoulder blade. Bradley steps around you, giving Steven an icy look. “I can take over from here, Steven,” he says casually, as if interrupting a traditional slow dance in front of an audience is regularly scheduled programming.
Steven stares at him in astonishment, completely lost for words. Bradley doesn’t wait for him to respond; he takes your hand out of Steven’s and leads you away.
You raise your eyebrows as Steven stands alone in the middle of the floor, looking around awkwardly. Meanwhile, you feel Bradley’s hand slide up your waist and pull you in, swaying you gently to the music. You gulp as Steven glares at you before turning on his heel and making his way toward your table, where your aunt and mother are standing and watching the action unfold.
“Bradley,” you say quietly.
“Hm?”
You glance up at him anxiously. “He knows,” you say. “Steven knows.”
“Knows what?” he asks.
You bite your lip. “That you’re not really my boyfriend. That all of this is fake.”
Bradley makes a skeptical face. “Did you tell him?”
“Of course not! He guessed.”
Bradley chuckles. “How?”
You shrug. “Apparently, we’re not affectionate enough.”
Bradley narrows his eyes, one corner of his mouth curling upward slightly. “What are you proposing?”
“I’m not proposing anything! I’m saying, the jig is up and we’re fucked,” you whisper feverishly. “Oh god, he’s talking to my mother. He’s going to tell her!”
Bradley lets out a slow sigh and pulls you a tad closer. “Hey,” he says. “There’s nothing to tell. Remember what I said? Don’t let him get to you.”
You glance up into Bradley’s eyes and, for a single moment, the background fades into nonexistence and your troubles with Steven seem a million miles away. But then, you shift back to reality, suddenly aware of the entire room watching you dance with your supposed boyfriend whom you can’t even kiss him.
As if on cue, Bradley says in a low voice, “You know, there is a way we can be more convincing as a couple.”
You stare at him for a moment while he watches you carefully, probably analyzing your reaction. His gaze drops down to your lips and you instinctively crane your neck before you can stop yourself. Bradley’s eyebrows twitch as a mystified expression passes fleetingly over his features. You note the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows uneasily; the rapid rise and fall of his chest as his face nears yours.
“What do you think?” he mutters, so close now that the tip of his nose brushes against the tip of yours.
There’s so much commotion in your chest, you feel like your ribs might rupture trying to keep it contained. “Uh,” you breathe, not confident you can articulate a more complex sound. You hope that his question is rhetorical in nature and that he’s not actually expecting a response.
Bradley steps about a millimeter closer, the hand he kept on your hip now sliding slowly up your side. You can feel his fingers clasp around your bent elbow, lingering there for a moment before trailing up your arm, its trace along your bare skin electric.
You let your lips part when you feel the heat of his breath as it mixes with yours, your slow dance coming to a near standstill as the two of you waver in uncertainty. You know that kissing Bradley Bradshaw will be the ultimate annihilation of whatever chance you might have had at restoring a platonic friendship with him once the weekend is over. Perhaps not for Bradley, but certainly for you. You also know that kissing Bradley Bradshaw is the best method of proving the authenticity of your relationship to your mother and Steven.
But before you can continue to contemplate the risk-reward ratio of kissing him, you feel Bradley’s bottom lip skim over your top one, and you could swear that your body might shatter upon impact. If Bradley, by some chance, determines to kiss you kiss you, you might not survive it. But despite the ever-present possibility that you may die if you were to actually lock lips with Bradley Bradshaw, you are now convinced, without a shadow of a doubt, that you are willing – nay, aching – to hazard it.
And just as you begin to wonder whether Bradley is on the same page, his mouth closes around yours. For a moment, neither of you breathes, giving you ample opportunity to acknowledge the fact that you aren’t dead but, on the contrary, extremely alive. You are submerged in sensation, baffled by how many things in your body can feel.
And then Bradley breathes out forcefully, taking a step into you, his arm curving around your back to keep you steady as he presses his body against yours. His lips begin to move, inviting yours into a desperate, delirious dance.
You let your hand travel up his chest and behind his neck, your fingers grazing his skin as he leans closer. Meanwhile, his hand is suddenly in your hair, contending with the mass of bobby pins as he attempts to rake his fingers right through. Instead, he resolves to grip a chunk of it by your ear, interrupting the kiss for a moment to let out a low chuckle against your mouth. At that, you slide your hand to the back of his head, pushing him toward you again.
Bradley resumes kissing you eagerly, both his hands now arriving on either side of your face, his thumbs brushing tenderly over your cheeks.
Somewhere beyond, one song ends and another begins. There is movement on the outside, some shuffling, and you finally open your eyes just as your glorious kiss comes to a conclusion.
Bradley rests his forehead on yours, breathing heavily into the small space between your faces while neither of you dare to say a word.
There are others on the dance floor now. Dancing, laughing, not paying the two of you the slightest bit of attention. And why would they? You’ve just done what any normal couple would do. Nobody knows how the moment transported you, how it has altered you.
Then, Bradley speaks. “Do you think they’ll miss us?”
“What?” you breathe, your foreheads still together as you watch his mouth move.
He bites into his lip. “If we leave now,” he says. “Will they notice we’re gone?”
Your heart starts to hammer once again. “What about the cake?” you ask.
“The cake?” he says, and you feel the skin of his forehead wrinkle as he furrows his brows.
“What if it’s chocolate?” you ask.
Bradley’s mouth curls into an amused smile. “Could be diamond for all I care.”
“That would be tough on the teeth.” You make a grimace to lighten the mood but, on the inside, you’re crumbling. Bradley wants to leave. He wants to leave so he isn’t forced to kiss you again.
Bradley lets out a steady sigh and takes a step toward you, the movement bringing your bodies together. You close your eyes because you’re far too close to see anything meaningful anymore anyway. “I could give a fuck about the cake, Y/N,” he says hoarsely.
Read Part VII
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This kind of a weird request but I wanted to ask how you would imagine the Fellowship would react/take care of their companion on their period? Like having severe cramps. It can be romantic or platonic relationship it's up to you but I would like Boromir to be romantic.Just lots of fluff basically.🤗
I just really enjoy reading how my favorite characters would take care of me when I'm in pain.😅
Thank you 🥰 oh same because I get reallllly bad period symptoms unless I take my supplements long enough before (and sometimes anyway 😣) so I adore being taken care of by my blorbos 🥺 doing everyone because I wanna write this with Faramir & write some wlw fluff 🥰
LoTR Characters When You’re on Your Period (F!Reader)
Warnings: small blood/pain mentions, a suggestive joke
Aragorn
✧ Your exchange is wordless; Aragorn sees the way you jolt at a sudden shock of pain, catches your eyes and gives you an inquisitive nod. You nod back and that is that, no questions asked.
✧ If you are traveling, your pace slows and Aragorn will hear no two words about it. He allows more breaks, hunts twice as hard, directs you to the softest place to sit and just gives the others firm looks if they try to give complaint.
✧ “Please,” he’ll urge you gently, taking your hand in his, “try to eat something. You’ll need your strength.” Just the sound of his voice, the care therein, practically brings tears to your eyes.
✧ Honestly, it takes a lot for him to suppress his laughter if you snap at one of the others, at least when your outburst is warranted. Glance over and you might catch him giving them an ‘I warned you’ look.
✧ Takes on more fights for you, bidding you to stand back and let him take care of things for once.
Legolas
✧ Perplexed but very concerned when he comes upon the sight of you sprawled out with a grimace of pain across your beautiful face. His first motion is to help you up, secondly asking what ails you. While he looks at you like he does not understand, his actions suggest otherwise.
✧ Every month he learns to follow it, the moon his reminder, and every month Legolas silently begins his gathering. Your favorite tea? Check. Your comfort item? Perfectly clean and ready to hand off. Your bedding? Also perfectly clean and assembled just how you like it. Even Legolas’s words are softer, more understanding in case of sudden complaint or upset.
✧ “It’s like you know what I want before I want it.” “Knowing you,” Legolas replies with a smile, “is my greatest joy.”
✧ Good luck trying to stand on your own; Legolas all but hovers around you, offering a hand whenever you attempt to rise.
✧ He becomes extra protective, taking hold of you by the waist at the first sound or sight of danger, lest anything make it worse.
Boromir
✧ All but bursts into your room the moment he hears that you are bedridden, rushing to take your hand and ask you what has happened in a whisper you can’t help a faint chuckle at before you explain.
✧ Taken visibly aback, Boromir then shakily asks what he can do, smiling when you tell him just to stay with you. “Pretend it’s a wound from some great battle,” you joke. “Oh, indeed,” he agrees before you two begin coming up with more and more ridiculous fights and scrapes you got into, Boromir’s thumb drawing circles over the back of your hand.
✧ He offers to try rubbing where it hurts, applying faint warm pressure over where your lower half is assaulting you. “How is this, my love?”
✧ Uses you having any difficulty with walking as an excuse to pick you up and carry you on his back.
✧ Does your washing up, partially just to prove your teasing about him not being brave enough wrong! He is a warrior, after all.
Gimli
✧ The others alert Gimli in a hiss after he less-than-tactfully panics that you’ve been hurt, sending his lips pursing into a shocked ‘o’ and his gaze sliding back to your stooped form.
✧ “Oh, er, well there lassie, if you need anything at all you know who to call for.” “Well,” you groan, “if you’ve any spare rags I’ll gladly take them.” “Rags? What would you want with…oh. Oh.” “Scared of a little blood, Gimli?” “No, not I,” Gimli replies despite his shaken expression, “I’m so used to the stuff by now, what’s the trouble?”
✧ Insistent as he is that dwarves are the best carers of their women, Gimli quickly works to prove his point and, in his words, win your heart with the lot of it. You’re skeptical when you see him sticking rocks in the fire, but at the end of the day the warmth is heaven upon your aching body and Gimli looks just as pleased as you feel.
✧ He probably also recommends you a strong drink under the claim that it eases pain like nothing else. Whether this is helpful or not is up to you.
✧ Goes surprisingly soft when you curl up, still facing wave after wave of cramps. Reaches over to you and strokes your hair, sitting at your side looking for all the world like a guard dog.
Frodo
✧ Your pain is interrupted by a gasp that has you looking up, meeting Frodo’s wide blue eyes glistening with concern at your sudden jerk. Familiar as Frodo is with pain, he recognizes your motion without a single question.
✧ Urges you to sit or lie still, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head like punctuation.
✧ While you rest up, Frodo tells you stories, stories of his uncle Bilbo’s adventures, tales from the days of the elves, anything to send you to a different place then you currently must be in.
✧ Offers you extra blankets or his cloak if you’re feeling cold or in need of comfort.
✧ Shy as he can be, in your time of need his hands hardly leave your shoulders or your side, quite protective even if he is smaller than you.
Sam
✧ “Whoa, easy there,” Sam tells you as he sits you down, “what happened?” Poor thing thinks you got some bad news or something the way you’re tearing up.
✧ Holds you close to his chest as you let the tears flow, shaking his head when you start to tell him it’s stupid, you’re just in pain and upset. “Can’t think of any more reasonable reasons to cry. Don’t worry, just let it all out.”
✧ Such a sweetheart, he won’t leave your side for hardly anything….except to go pick you some flowers to raise your spirits, of course!
✧ Flushes a bit at the suggestion, but one hundred percent helps you undress and change into more comfortable clothes. Even if he tries to look shyly away as much as possible.
✧ Definitely cooks you something hearty and nutritious, encouraging you to eat even just a little bit. Sam will even hand feed you spoonfuls if you’re feeling bad enough.
Merry
✧ “Oh, yeah, I know all about that!” “You do?” “Sure, I saw what my father did for Mum, after all. Come here.”
✧ Apparently what Mr. Brandybuck did for the missus was to build her the most massive nest of pillows known to Hobbit-kind. “And what’s she do in here?” You ask, waving a hand feebly over your new home. “Well, not sure what they did after that but I think I’ve heard of a way to lessen the pain.” Whether that works or earns him a smack you can decide.
✧ From your pillow pile you become queen of, well, Merry at least, though he puts on an act of being scared of displeasing you at first. You can’t help laughing as he kneels before you, asking what snacks you request or if you’d like some water.
✧ Meriadoc “chugs respecting women juice” Brandybuck has silently vowed to never once make any ill jokes at your expense. No asking if it’s your time if you express any emotion he doesn’t, no teasing you for needing help, no acting like said help is too gross for him, ever.
✧ That being said, he even does your washing up for you!
Pippin
✧ Definitely more the type to fret and worry, hands going to your back as you double over and he asks what’s wrong, are you hurt? Whether your words are sheepish or unabashed, you tell him it’s your womanly cycle and Pippin’s eyes practically pop out of his lovely little head. “O-oh. What should I do?”
✧ His cluelessness is actually perfect for the situation because he truly will do anything you say will help, whether it’s bottling up some hot water, fetching you your favorite snacks, making you tea, even singing you a song if you tell him it’ll raise your spirits.
✧ His absolute favorite thing to do, though, is offer company, tumbling onto the bed with you and chatting the afternoon away.
✧ This quickly evolves, though, and soon Pippin is holding you for dear life, an arm wrapped around the front of you where he draws warm, gentle circles lightly over your pain.
✧ “This isn’t so bad, is it?” You swat him for that, but in spite of yourself cuddle closer and join his sheepish laughter.
Faramir
✧ No questions asked, Faramir is by your side stroking your hair and getting it out of your face if it falls so.
✧ Musing over the strength it takes to fight such internal battles, he cradles you in his arms or, if you prefer not to be touched, holds your hand as he sits at your side.
✧ Well-read as Faramir is, some pain remedies swim to the forefront of his mind and he goes off to seek them.
✧ When you lie down, he tucks you in so softly, that sparkle in his eyes you love so much twinkling just for you. “This will pass,” he whispers.
✧ Blames himself if you get upset sometimes, but is reassured and happy again when you tell him he need never pull away from you.
Eomer
✧ Confused, frankly, at why you suddenly can’t walk, for he cannot conceive of a reason until you admit this is unfortunately quite normal for you.
✧ Asks you why, frowns in greater confusion and sympathy when you say you do not know, acts a little bit uncomfortable about details but still sets out to aid.
✧ Too uncomfortable to ask his sister, he opts instead to seek out a healer and practically demand anything that helps with a woman’s “well, time.” He’s getting the spirit slowly but surely, alright?
✧ Bursts into your room with an armful of everything the healer has, ready to brainstorm solutions to have you right again. You can’t help but chuckle at the whirlwind you’ve just gone through all over some cramps.
✧ He gets quite restless until you call him to your side, asking him to quit fretting and just lay with you. “Ah, that I can do,” he says with a grin.
Haldir
✧ Haldir’s steady expression drops when he learns of your ailment. Everything else he is holding or doing drops as soon as possible, too, and he is going to you.
✧ Taken aback at the sight of you, he realizes he did not know a woman’s cycle could take such a toll as to leave you bedridden. He isn’t used to seeing you so weak and is ready to do what it takes to end it.
✧ He has all these wonderful scented oils, some of which help you sleep, some of which he uses to massage you and hopefully numb the pain.
✧ In addition, he guides your breathing through waves of the ache, looking to the breeze and the rhythms around you to help you relax your body that much more.
✧ Haldir is hesitant to show you excess affection, but if you request it, his arms snake around your waist and he holds you there, both of him breathing you in like you’re all he needs and vice versa.
Eowyn
✧ “Sit down, please, I insist.” As much as Eowyn herself is the type to trudge forth through pain or fear, she would never impose the same upon you, instead tending so gently to you.
✧ Hot water always helps her, so she fetches you some as well as a treat from a baker she passed by, taking your hand after she hands it off.
✧ You had best believe this woman will tell anyone in the whole of Middle Earth to leave you alone as you rest, be they her own kin or the host of the dark lord himself.
✧ As you spend more time together, the old adage about ‘synchronizing’ seems to ring true with you both. Eowyn does not mind, honestly, because you bear the pain together and spend much time together in bed. Not the most ideal of circumstances, but if she can lay in the warmth of your arms Eowyn is a happy woman indeed.
✧ She insists so much upon your care, though, that you’ll practically have to wrestle her down so you can reciprocate…not that she minds that, either!
Arwen
✧ Who better to understand what you are going through? Her brows knit at the first sign of discomfort from you, recognizing the signs immediately.
✧ Without a word Arwen is finding out exactly what you tend to prefer- do you get nauseous and seek relief? Do you desire more sustenance and company or less?
✧ During times when you find yourself more stressed or upset than average, Arwen gives you so much grace, running her hand soothingly down your arm and reminding you all weights feel heavier right now.
✧ For all your pain, there is little bliss like being in the arms of your beloved, her soothing deep whispers brushing your ear.
✧ The most patient if you’re forced to wake up frequently in the night and rise, laying there with nothing but love in her eyes as you return.
Elrond
✧ Wise lord and healer as he is, Elrond is more than familiar with the ailments of women. In fact, he is the sort to track it for you as best as he can. So when he sees you feeling ill, sympathy crosses his serene features but no surprise.
✧ Elrond knows every remedy in the book, so he’s quickly making you some calming tea and sitting you down for some TLC.
✧ Very encouraging for you to take time for yourself and make sure you stay nourished, even if that is difficult. There is no shame in keeping your strength up, after all.
✧ Walks with you just a little ways behind, a hand resting comfortingly upon the small of your back.
✧ Sends cover for you where you are needed, no questions asked, because you are more important than tasks others can perform.
Lindir
✧ Practically trips and falls over himself running to you at your sudden shock of pain, dark eyes wide at the way you folded. You seem embarrassed to tell him and while he feels squeamish at first, that is quickly shaken off as he urges you to sit down.
✧ From that moment on Lindir has dubbed himself your personal nursemaid, naught but the call of Lord Elrond himself taking him from his work.
✧ “No, no, lie back down, I can get it,” he holds out a cautious, almost panicked hand when you wince and sit up, “what is it?”
✧ Sings you songs of all kinds, old tales, his own compositions, and of course your requests, again and again if you ask them of him. His harp is ready to gently play you to sleep or just to keep your mind off the pain you feel.
✧ When you wake up in the night, at first he looks frustrated, but that melts away quickly as your eyes meet, apology shining in your gaze. Instead, Lindir helps you up and sings you to sleep again upon your return.
#lord of the rings#lotr#lotr imagines#lotr x reader#the fellowship of the ring#aragorn#legolas#boromir#gimli#frodo#sam#merry#pippin#faramir#eomer#haldir#eowyn#arwen#elrond#lindir#ask#anon#requested
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