#first one is “you have a set amount of words you can say unless you meet your soulmate” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellemj · 1 month

Text

Off-Limits: Ch. 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU

Read Ch. 1 here.

Summary: Bucky Barnes took the one thing he couldn't have: you. The only thing is...you didn't even know he'd done it.

Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Idk what to say about this chapter so on a more personal note...I had a birthday recently and I'm treating myself by writing more smut, getting pampered, and going to bed on time.

James Bucky Barnes isn’t used to having to ask for what he wants. Negotiating is something he’ll only put a very limited amount of effort into, and when it becomes more trouble than it’s worth, he stops negotiating. That’s why he snapped two nights ago in your father’s home office. Well, he won’t admit it to himself or anyone else, but seeing how pretty you looked on your knees was what really made him snap. The pain of negotiating was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

You’re definitely worth negotiating for, more so than anything else he’s ever negotiated for in his lifetime. He gave it a try, but hearing your father once again label you as off-limits would be enough to set anyone off. So, as the man sits quite comfortably in his desk chair, studying his own clean yet metaphorically blood-stained hands, he feels justified in his actions. He fired a couple of rounds, pressed the barrel of his gun to your father’s temple, and took what was his. Well, maybe that’s overstating it a bit.

If he’d really taken what was his in the way that he wanted to, he wouldn’t be so on edge right now. He wouldn’t have had to fuck his hand both last night and this morning just to get you off of his mind long enough to make it into his office today. He knows he could’ve avoided feeling like this if he’d just told your father that he was taking you that night, that he had no say in the matter whatsoever. But no, after maiming two of your father’s men, Bucky pressed his gun to your father’s head and a pen into his hand and he proposed a deal that would keep you from resenting him for the rest of your life. Your father signed whatever he needed to in order to spare his own life, even at the expense of sending his only child into the arms of the city’s most feared man.

You’re the last thing Bucky should be focusing on right now. His eyes flit over to the security monitor on his desk, where he sees his expected guests stepping out of a black SUV one by one and coming to stand near the entrance of his currently closed nightclub. It’s going to be another evening of negotiating. Heaving a deep sigh, Bucky shifts his gaze to the bottom right corner of the screen, where he sees his new assistant sitting just outside of his office. His new assistant who, while so attentive and polite at work, looks at him with the vilest disdain every evening when he escorts her out to the car that carries her home. One would think she’d be nothing but grateful for him, having first spared her father’s life and then taken her on as an assistant with no work experience whatsoever. You really should be grateful.

Unless James Bucky Barnes is so far past pissed that he can barely see straight, it’s hard to tell that he’s feeling anything other than relaxed and calm. For the most part, he’s a very level-headed man. He gives people chances, he understands and accepts small mistakes and mishaps as they occur. Even now, as the three men seated in front of his desk bicker on amongst themselves, taking up entirely too much of his time, Bucky looks almost bored. His gaze routinely darts from the faces of the men in front of him, down to the golden crevices of his vibranium hand as he traces them with his flesh index finger, and then to the watch on his right wrist.

3:58 pm.

Two more minutes, he tells himself.

“This is going to keep happening if we don’t post more men at the docks when a shipment is coming in, and if the men who are supposed to be there keep showing up late.” The first red-faced man snaps, unintentionally hurling a light mist of saliva at the man to his right.

“That’s not on me, I don’t know why you’re looking at me when you say that. I’m doing the best I can with the numbers I have, we’ve lost a few good men lately and I can’t do anything about that.” The man on the right retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

3:59 pm. Bucky’s eyes roam over to the heavy wooden doors that maintain the privacy of his office. He can hear you standing on the other side of it, taking a deep breath and pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear before wrapping your little hand around the big metal doorknob. God, he can’t help but imagine your little hand wrapping around something else.

The volume of the argument reaches an all-time high just as you’re tugging the heavy door open. It isn’t surprising that the quiet sound of the door sliding open doesn’t break the men out of their tiff, that only Bucky hears it.

As soon as you’ve stepped into the office and realize what you’ve walked into, you freeze by the door. Your eyes dance over the backs of the three men who sit in front of the desk, watching as they engage with each other but none of them turn around to take notice of you. The only person who looks at you is Bucky, with his steely blue eyes and focused gaze. He watches intently as your own focus shifts to him. You’re fully expecting him to tell you to leave, that your presence isn’t needed at the moment, not when something so important is obviously going down. But he doesn’t. Bucky only stares at you, waiting to see if you’ll do your job and approach his desk.

You take small steps toward the desk, toward the angry men that sit between you and your new boss. It isn’t until you’re halfway across the office that the man in the middle hears the sound of your heels clicking against the hardwood floor and he glances over his shoulder at you. The up-and-down look that he gives you sends a nauseating shiver down your spine while simultaneously making Bucky’s trigger finger itch.

“You let bitches walk in here without knocking?” The middle man asks abruptly, effectively silencing the room with the way he’s just addressed Bucky. As is the norm, not a soul in the room can tell that Bucky’s seething on the inside. He keeps his cool, he remains level-headed as he makes eye contact with the burly man. He offers no words in response, and instead simply chooses to tilt his head slightly to the side as if he’s daring the man to say more. “Run along, little girls shouldn’t be privy to a man’s business. This is no place for you.”

The man’s dark eyes are on you again, sizing you up as he waits to see how long it’ll take for you to listen to his bold command. Again, you freeze, unsure of whether to obey the piece of shit who’s just spoken or to obey Bucky’s rules. You’re too check in with him in his office every evening at four to see if he needs anything else before you leave for the night. It’s why you’re here now, in your tight black skirt, tights, heels, and black knitted sweater. It’s why you’re frozen in place, searching his eyes for any clue as to what you should be doing. Bucky says nothing, he doesn’t even so much as raise an eyebrow at you. So, you turn to head right back out the door.

“Sit.” His tone is commanding and authoritative, ten times more so than the flushed, angry man who tried to tell you what to do only a moment ago. When James Bucky Barnes speaks, everyone listens. You turn around slowly, coming to face the desk again, but you don’t take any steps forward to do as you’ve been asked.

Bucky would like for you to do as you’re told after only being told once. Though, he has to remind himself, you’re new to this. He can give you a little grace. If it takes being told twice for you to listen, he can work with that. But if it takes much more than that? He may have underestimated just how much trouble you’d be for him. As you hold his gaze, he fights the urge to speak again. He told you to sit, you should already be sitting. He narrows his eyes at you in one last effort to get through to you without words. That’s what spurs you into action. He watches as your legs carry you forward slowly. He watches as your eyes coast over the three men, who are staring at you with varied amounts of attraction, annoyance, and shock on their faces. You’re realizing that there isn’t a free chair anywhere in the office. Your first thought is to sit on the corner of Bucky’s mahogany desk, because where the hell else does he want you to sit? You’re making your move to perch there when you meet Bucky’s gaze again.

The harsh, offended look on his face clears things up for you quickly. He most definitely doesn’t want you sitting on his desk. The way he pushes his chair back a few inches and spreads his legs to make room leaves a mix of anger and excitement swirling around within you. You stand there beside his desk, staring at him with a cold expression of your own. With a little tilt of his head to the side and another narrowed look, you find your legs carrying you forward once more, toward the man you’ve always been inexplicably drawn to.

“Who is she to you? We’re not going to sit here and talk business in front of one of your little playthings. She has no part in this.” The bold middle man barks out, directing his anger at Bucky now. Bucky’s in his own world for the moment. The soft curve of your ass is pressing against the junction of his hip and his thigh, the sweet scent of your perfume is making his head spin, and the way your cheeks are turning a gentle shade of pink is making him question every illegal thing he’s ever done. It’s as if he has an actual angel in front of him right now. He’s quiet for a bit too long after the man’s harsh question, and you turn your head to look at your boss. You notice the way his normally hardened gaze softens when you make eye contact with him, the way his pupils dilate in the slightest and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smooth out. You’re lost in him for a moment, lost in the sea of blue that rims his widened pupils, lost in the way your anger seems to be dissipating more and more with every second that you look at him.

Bucky likes that you hold eye contact with him even as he reaches up to his desk with his right hand, even as he wraps his fingers around the gun that he laid there before the meeting began. Even when he aims the gun between the eyes of the man in the middle chair, you’re still lost in his gaze. It isn’t until he pulls the trigger and ends the man’s life right there that your eyes snap shut and your body tenses up. Instinctively, Bucky’s vibranium hand moves to the small of your back to steady you, to make you feel safer.

“Does anyone else have anything to say about my wife?”

That’s the moment you find out that somehow, without your knowledge or agreement, you’re married to James Bucky Barnes.

TAG LIST:

@vicmc624 @emerald-writes @skulliecadaver-blog @globetrotter28 @b3llair3 @steeph-aniie @spiffylittlebug @raging-panda @dozcan123 @sapphirebarnes @sarah1barnes @sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @eecummingsandgoings @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @aka-tua-braindump @immortalfangirl @valenftcrush @andrometda

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky x you

687 notes · View notes

erwinsvow · 5 days

Note

what abt shy!reader sleeping over at rafes for the first time?? 😊😊

you'd been so nervous, slathering way too much frosting onto chocolate cupcakes while rafe told you the agenda he'd planned for tonight's date. in between mentions of dinner at this restaurant he liked on the water and stopping to get some ice cream before the outdoor movie, he'd thrown in a sentence that made your heart thud in your chest.

"unless you wanna come watch a movie here. we can eat all this crap you jus' made." you look up, butter knife almost slipping out of your hand.

"watch a movie.. here?"

"yeah. couch's comfy. got enough dessert to get a cavity. you can sleep over. how's that sound?"

it sounded terrifying. this was a milestone, one you needed several days and a new set of pajamas to prepare for. rafe looks down at your worried eyes, knitted eyebrows. you set down the cupcake before you drop it.

"sleep over?" you repeat it softly.

"snap out of it, kid. you don't have to." though the words feel like they should be mean, they're not. spoken with a sweetness you often found yourself wondering came naturally to your boyfriend, or if you brought it out in him. you hope for both.

"no, i want to," you correct quickly, blinking fast. "um, can you bring me home to get my stuff?"

"yeah. before dinner."

you turn back to your cupcakes with a smile, one that he stares at while you finish up. true to his word, he brings you home—you drop off a few sweets for your parents, give your kitten a treat while you pack a quick bag and grab your toothbrush. you don't change for dinner, keeping the pretty dress on until he gets you back into his bedroom later that night.

you've brought clothes to sleep in, but you hover in front of rafe's dresser still, working up the nerve to ask for one of his shirts to wear to bed. you can't seem to find it, deciding just to wear your pajamas, no matter how silly they are, when rafe opens the drawer and pulls out two shirts. he hands you one.

"get changed. m'gonna go change in the bathroom. be right back." you think you'd marry the boy if he asked right now—he seems to know your every thought before you can even finish thinking it, or figure out how to articulate it.

when rafe comes back you're a vision in one of his old frat shirts, playing with your hair while you sit on the foot of his bed.

"ready to sleep?" he asks, and you look up from your knees, smiling at him the way he wish you wouldn't sometimes, the way that makes his chest hurt with the amount of love pouring through your pretty eyes.

"what about dessert?" you ask with a laugh, smiling bigger when he rolls his eyes.

"haven't you had enough? how do you still have teeth?"

"i floss."

"shut up. get in bed." you crawl under his covers, inhaling the way everything smells like him. you lay your head down on one of his pillows, staring when he gets in next to you. "you okay?"

you love that he asks, that he cares enough to make sure.

"yeah. i'm okay."

"good. get some sleep." he doesn't say anything, but he still brings you in close to his chest, head on top of his heart, an arm around you, legs tangled together. when he thinks you're asleep, you hear the quiet sound.

"night, kid."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #this was very sweet and self indulgent #i hope you like it but i feel like i wrote it for me ajwjsfh #love u guys #shy reader

770 notes · View notes

jiskblr · 11 months

Text

Tumblr Rules for Redditors

Hello, fellow redditors! Many people are trying to tell you rules about how to Tumblr properly. Many of them are wrong, or assholes, or both. I am also an asshole but I’m going to not be one for a minute to give you some advice:

“Reblog this or you’re a bad person” and any variation on that is a violation of intergalactic law. Don’t do it. Also, refuse to comply if someone else does it.

Generally, people can see what you reblog, but cannot see what you ‘like’. A like may seem like an upvote, but it is much less significant than one, since it doesn’t affect visibility in the slightest. A like will be visible both to the OP of the thread, and to the person whose reblog you put the like on. Like promiscuously! It feels good to get likes and there’s no downside. (Unless you are a space alien AKA influencer.)

Tumblr nominally has the ability to browse global tags (e.g. seeing the entire site’s posts and reblogs tagged #superwholock or #reddit exodus) and to search the site for things. No one uses them and they don’t really work.

You are probably less surprised by this than denizens of literally any other website on the internet, but there’s no algorithm here. Chronological order only. (If you’re using the search or global tags, they might have an algorithm, but if they do, it doesn’t work. We don’t know because we don’t use them.)

Anyone can have absolutely any conversation in the notes of your post that they like. This is how the website works. You are allowed to complain about it, but don’t expect anyone to humor you.

Many people have ‘DNI’ lists in their blog descriptions. This means ‘do not interact’ and indicates that they don’t want you to message them, reblog from them, reblog any posts they are OP of, or even, sometimes, ‘like’ their posts. It is good manners to respect these, if you know they exist, but in normal use you probably won’t look at blog descriptions very often so it is entirely okay to violate them by accident. (When the lists get very long, it becomes impractical to check whether you violate them. Generally, just skip it. You probably don’t want to interact with those people anyway.)

Notes on posts you start will go to you no matter how many intervening hops there are on the reblog chain. If you get a post with an enormous amount of notes, this can get overwhelming. Whatever the current incarnation of Xkit (basically RES for Tumblr except we’ve switched names and maintainers seven times) is, will have a setting to deal with this. If that’s insufficient, the suggested course of action is to reblog your OP to your own blog so that you have a copy for posterity’s sake, and then delete the OP. This silences the notes.

If you and another user both follow each other, you are ‘mutuals’. This makes it much easier to have conversations with each other, which is ordinarily sort of hard since everything is purely chronological. Frequently your mutuals are your friends; if not yet true, they may become your friends.

When you reblog things, you can write words both in the word part and in the tags, Modern tumblr norms are to write long rambling tags in full sentences rather than put words in the main body. Do not that only the first four tags in the list can be searched on. Unlike some other norms, violating this one and putting your response in the body of the reblog is not particularly rude. The worst it does is make a reblog chain long. Probably don’t reblog things and just say “This.”, though.

If you want to search your blog, consider Siikr. Don’t overuse it, it’s one guy’s project.

Be verbose! This ain’t Twitter, no character limit. (Not even the really large character limit of a reddit comment.) Write a 3000-word story in a single reblog if you want, that sounds awesome. Use ‘read more’ if you do, though. Posts can be very long, one of our oldest memes is about this.

Infinite scroll is the default, but you can turn it off. Actually, check all the settings, many of them will improve your experience.

Everybody be excellent to each other!

#reddit #reddit exodus #how to tumblr #blue hellsite (affectionate)

2K notes · View notes

wlntrsldler · 1 month

Text

poisoned mercury | pink skies

a/n: bf!luke, who else cheered?; suggests that five star and luke spent the night but nothing explicit! i decided not to let the angst monster touch them. they're my babies!!!! five star and luke get behind me!!!

viii. pink skies by lany

series masterlist | previous | next

there were many things about luke castellan that surprised you. one being that he wore glasses, or at least is supposed to wear glasses. he refused to wear them, against the sound medical advice of his optometrist and his mom’s insistence. his first adult responsibility was buying his own contacts because his mom refused to set up the appointments for him out of spite. he only wore his glasses when he was around the boys and poisoned mercury’s management team, but never out in public, and definitely never on stage.

two, he loved jazz music. only a handful of people knew this about him and half of those who do, don’t believe him. he supposed it was hard for people to believe that a pop punk lead singer would have an appreciation for jazz music, but luke loved it. jazz always sounded romantic and sensual and there was something calming about it. he listened to jazz before each show. he’ll never admit this unless you twist his arm, but he wept like a goddamn baby when he first watched la la land.

third, he was a polyglot, which he says is a little ironic because according to his mom, he spoke his first words in english significantly later than his peers, but he picked up on other languages quickly. he first found out about his talent in high school when he started hanging out at the rodriguez household and chris’ mom and sisters started saying phrases to him in spanish. he started taking spanish classes in high school and kept teaching himself when he dropped out. so far he can speak spanish, italian, and a bit of french. he attempted to learn greek, but it never clicked for him. he knew how to read it but his pronunciation was atrocious. he promised he’d try again sometime soon, but who knows if that’ll happen.

fourth, his idea of pillow talk was the two of you asking random questions to each other to get to know each other better, which is how you learned all these things about him. after one thing led to another last night, you fell asleep to the sound of luke’s voice against your ear. it wasn’t even that late; the group hadn’t come back from their trip to get food after they left the party, but you and luke were sleepy as you lay in the tangled sheets of your bed, at peace.

you learned that he was ticklish on the side of his ribs and that he planned to get a tattoo there but when the artist tried to put the stencil on his skin, he giggled and moved around so much that the artist warned him about his placement. he didn’t end up getting the tattoo there, but instead got it a little lower on his torso. luke had six tattoos, making him the one in the band with the least amount. the stolls were tattoo fiends and made it their mission to get a small tattoo from each place they visited on tour. luke’s personal favorite was the single line on the side of their index finger. it was a messily done stick-n-poke after one too many drinks in new jersey.

when he was younger, he used to climb on the roof of his house in connecticut. his parents warned him that he was going to hurt himself one day, but he, being the rascal that he was, never listened. until one day, after a light rain, he’d gone up there and slipped on the shingles and fell face-first against the roof. he scratched his face pretty badly, hence the scar on his face now. he told people that he got the scar from a bar fight because it sounded cooler. one day his childhood pictures will be posted on some website and his cover story won’t be as believable anymore, but that’s a bridge he’ll cross when he gets there.

it was weird to fall asleep next to someone. you hadn’t found yourself in this position in a long time, longer than you’d care to admit. when you hooked up with people in college, you purposefully made up some excuse about why they had to leave before sun up. “my roommate will be back soon.” “i have a huge test tomorrow morning.” “my friend just called and said she needed my help so i gotta go.” but with luke, you didn’t feel the need to make up an excuse to kick him out. you didn’t want him to go.

he asked the silent question as he was putting his clothes back on, hesitantly approaching your bedroom door to exit. he didn’t know if he was overstaying his welcome. he didn’t want to rush you when it came to things like this. so when he’d asked where his other shoe went, not caring about where it landed in the heat of the moment, you shrugged your shoulders and said, “dunno. we’ll figure it out in the morning, come back to bed.”

you didn’t need to tell him twice.

luke woke up before you did. you were lying on his chest, face pressed into the crook of his neck. your breaths made his skin tingle. he twirled the ends of your hair around his fingers, taking in the view of you next to him. he could get used to waking up like this every morning, he thought. he couldn’t imagine a better way to start his day.

you stirred, craning your head to face him as your eyes fluttered open, a subdued smile on your face, “g’mornin.”

“g’mornin’, five star,” he replied, lips immediately leaning over to press against yours. he frowned when you pulled back, shaking your head, “let me kiss you.”

“i have morning breath,” you cringed, moving your arm from under you to caress the nape of his neck. you placed a kiss on the corner of his lips, making him groan.

“i don’t care,” he pouted, nudging your nose with his own. you rolled your eyes but let him kiss you. the kiss was lazy and languid, lips moving gracefully against each other. it was sweet and slow like you were both trying to soak in this feeling with each other. you broke the kiss when you broke out into a smile, suddenly feeling shy.

“it’s noon,” you said, glancing at your clock behind luke. “we need to get up soon.”

“five more minutes,” he placed a string of kisses on your shoulder blade, grinning at the red marks he left on your skin from last night. “let’s stay here a little longer.”

you had a feeling here meant something more than just the comfort of your bed. here was the bubble you both allowed yourself to stay in for the last twelve hours, a little universe that was just for the two of you. it was different kissing luke in the darkness of the night. you could blame it on the secrecy of it all, shadows hiding your feelings for him, no expectations or weight of the dreaded conversation, but in the morning light, you felt vulnerable. you knew the mature thing to do was to ask him about what last night meant. was it just a one-time thing? would things change between the two of you now that the chase was over? you didn’t know.

little did you know, luke was thinking the same things as you. he would prolong this safe haven for as long as he could in case he would never get to experience it again. luke tightened his grip around your waist, breathing in the scent of your shampoo as he kissed your forehead. he couldn’t stop himself. he got a taste of what it was like to be with you and now, he couldn’t get enough. he’d find any excuse to have his lips on you. he grinned at you as he pulled away, “you snore, you know that?”

you buried your face in your pillow, embarrassed, “stop it.”

he laughed, “it’s cute, five star! i don’t mind it.”

“are you sure?” you asked, scrunching your face up in disgust, “i can’t in good conscience let you sleep over again if you don’t even get any sleep because i snore.”

“consider your conscience cleared because i really don’t mind,” luke pressed his lips against yours again. gods, he couldn’t get enough of you. “this makes up for it.”

“ew,” you shoved him playfully, sitting up to start getting ready for the day. luke remained flat on his back on your bed, “you’re so fucking corny.”

he propped his head up on his extended elbow, a smirk on his face. the rays of sunlight that peeked through your blinds illuminated his toned chest. faint scratches and pink marks contrasted his tanned skin. “guilty.”

you got up from bed, digging out a clean sweater from your closet. you wandered around your room, organizing things as you went on. luke watched you from your bed, eyes following your every move. his white shirt was peeking out from under the sweater. your sleep shorts showed off your toned legs perfectly. your hair was a mess, braids undone, but you still looked gorgeous. he blinked as your eyes darted to him, “you look beautiful.”

you rolled your eyes, narrowing your eyes at him, “you can’t even see me properly. you don’t have your contacts in.”

he’d taken them off before he fell asleep. he hated sleeping with contacts in. he’d snuck out in the middle of the night to grab his glasses from his nightstand before slipping back into bed with you. he was thankful you were a pretty heavy sleeper because he didn’t want you to think he was sneaking out to leave you by yourself after last night. when luke returned to his side of the bed, you rolled over and cuddled into him in your sleep, like you’d been waiting for him to return.

luke reached over to retrieve his glasses from your bedside table and placed them on his face. he pushed them up on the bridge of his nose and shrugged, “still beautiful.”

you walked over to him, sitting on his lap with your thighs caging him in. you held his face in your hands, admiring how he looked with the frames on his face. luke’s hands made their way to your waist, steadying you. you smiled, “i like how you look with your glasses.”

a lopsided smile appeared on his face, boyish and charming. “yeah?”

“mhm,” you hummed, “you look like a nerd. s’cute.”

“pfft,” he scoffed, poking your side, “i’m not a nerd. i’m a rockstar.”

“shut the fuck up,” there was no venom in your voice, despite your words. you couldn’t muster any resemblance of annoyance when he was looking at you all doe-eyed and pouty-lipped. you moved from on top of him, crawling over to your empty spot, “luke?”

he turned to you, “five star?”

“what are we doing?”

“we’re spending the day in bed,” he replied, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. he knew that the conversation was coming in soon. he was scared of what you’d say next.

your smile vanished as your shoulders hunched over, “you know what i mean.”

luke rubbed his jaw, “you tell me.”

luke didn’t know what he should say. he didn’t want to say that last night meant nothing to him because he’d be lying if he said that and he didn’t want to lie to you, but he also didn’t want to scare you off by telling you how he really felt. it felt like a situation he couldn’t win. his pessimism was hounding him. he didn’t want to mess this up before it had the chance to start.

“are we just fucking around? is this casual because i–”

at first he thought he could handle it. he’ll let you take the lead, he’ll follow you. whatever you wanted, he’s game for it, even if it meant that he got hurt along the way. but then the word casual left your lips and it felt like he was slapped across the face. he thought he could handle it if you wanted you guys to be casual or friends who kiss sometimes or friends who occasionally do more than kissing sometimes, but actually hearing you use those words made him tense.

“please don’t ever use those words about us again,” luke breathed out, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “i don’t know if you’ve noticed five star, but there’s nothing casual about how i feel about you.”

“i think we need to start talking to each other more,” you pondered. “because there’s nothing casual about how i feel about you either.”

“throw a guy a bone sometimes. you’ve tormented me for two months. how was i supposed to know that?” he teased.

you cocked an eyebrow, “but yet you like me so really what does it say about you?”

just like that, the indecision faded. it was back to just you and luke. the same way you’d always teased each other and pushed each other’s buttons. you’d both been stressed about what the other was thinking when you should’ve just talked to each other. perhaps all the poets and the writers in the world were onto something when they said that communication is key because you two wasted so much time running away from what this could be. it was funny really, how the two of you were both keeping these things to yourself, too scared of how you felt for each other to make a move. how much sooner could this have happened if you told him how you felt the minute you realized it? would he have kissed you a month ago? would you have been waking up with him beside you on your bed for weeks? who knows?

“it says more about you, to be honest,” he said, “you’re irresistible. even when you’re mean to me, i adore you.”

“you’re such a flirt, castellan.”

“i need to up my game,” luke chuckled, “yeah, i got the girl but now i gotta work to keep you.”

you placed a hand on your chin, pretending to think, “i don’t recall being asked to be anyone’s girl.”

“you’re breaking my heart, five star,” he sighed dramatically, clutching his chest. he dropped his body weight on yours, making you squeal and attempt to push him off. he laughed at your efforts. “be my girl?”

“on one condition.”

“anything.”

“let me hear the song.”

luke let out a full belly laugh, rolling over on the bed. he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. there was never a moment where he wasn’t on his toes when he was with you. he didn’t expect you to say that. you really were stubborn when it came to things you put your mind to. that fucking song. “no, i told you it’s not ready!”

you stuck your tongue out at him, “then no.”

luke’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as a goofy grin appeared on his face. he pulled you on his lap again, back pressed against his chest. he moved your hair to one side, kissing down the other side of your neck in soft, quick motions. he mumbled into your skin, “fine, but i’m following you around like a lost puppy. i’m yours.”

you sighed dreamily, reaching over to place a hand on his arm. you couldn’t help but make fun of him despite the butterflies in your stomach, “simp.”

you felt him nod against your body, “that’s me.”

“we really need to get out of bed.”

“five more minutes?”

it had been at least fifteen since he last asked for more time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. you gave in and got back under your covers with him. you let him be the small spoon this time, your arms wrapped around his toned back, smiling at the soft sighs that left his lips when you ran your fingers down his spine. he kissed your collarbones, face relaxing as sleep overtook him again.

you watched him fall asleep and reached for your phone, trying not to disturb his rest. you snapped a quick picture of him, smiling as you admired his features. you were falling for luke castellan.

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x y/n #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

485 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

Text

Yell at Me and Tell Me You Love Me

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You distance yourself from Tim because you think he is still in love with Isabel. When he confronts you about why you've been avoiding him, you accidentally tell him the truth.

Warnings: angst to fluff, argument, friends to lovers, the timeline of Tim and Isabel's relationship is probably off but I needed to make everything fit

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

A/N: The first title I typed was "Yell at Me, Tell Me You Love Me, But Don't Push Me Away" and I'd just like to say (a very sarcastic) you're welcome for shortening it. (Unless you like the original, then I'm sorry.)

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You met Tim Bradford less than a week after he left the Army and quickly became one of his closest friends. Despite the secret kisses shared without thought, holding each other tightly for no reason, and falling asleep in each other’s arms, you continue to be just friends with Tim Bradford. Being part of his life for so long means you’ve seen more than most. You were at Tim and Isabel’s wedding, gave him a place to stay after the divorce, and you fell in love with him without even trying.

Since his divorce from Isabel, you’ve shared a few more thoughtless kisses, said “I love you” before ending phone calls, and slept in the same bed simply for comfort on more than one occasion. You know you need to stop, however, because Tim is still attached to Isabel, as far as you can tell. She calls occasionally, and he rushes to answer the phone, leaving you like an afterthought as the woman he truly loves becomes available again. You’re unwilling to be a rebound or a distraction while Tim works on his relationship with Isabel, but you can’t decide how to set a boundary you don’t want.

It's nearly midnight, and you can’t sleep with thoughts of Tim running through your head. As you consider the idea of simply giving him space, letting him know that you both have things you need to deal with before you can be his friend again, your phone rings. Tim’s name and face light up your dark room and life before you answer.

“Hey,” you greet.

“Hi. I- did I wake you up?” Tim asks.

“No, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither. Are you okay?”

When Tim asks that question, you realize that the only thing you want from or for Tim is for him to be happy. Alone, in the dark, you acknowledge that the only way for him to be happy is if you are willing to move out of the way of what he really wants. If you step away and give him room to work out his feelings toward Isabel, maybe he can find what he wants and focus entirely on that.

Tim says your name, and you rush to say, “Yeah, I’m fine, just- just thinking.”

“You want me to come over?” he offers.

“No,” you answer quickly – too quickly. “It’s late, and I’m really fine. Are you?”

Tim sighs before answering, “I guess. Isabel called today to tell me she’s going back to rehab. She wants me to come by once a week, act as part of her support plan.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“I enabled Isabel for so many years that I don’t know.”

“You’ll do the right thing, Tim. You always do.”

A memory of last week, when Tim kissed you during a walk on the beach, flashes through your mind. Was that the right thing?

“Or you have too much faith in me,” he argues.

“I think I have just the right amount of faith in you.”

“It’s your turn to pick dinner on Friday.”

You see an opening to pull back and tighten your grip on your phone as you ask, “Actually, can we skip this week? I’m swamped and don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I’d hate to leave you waiting.”

Tim hesitates before agreeing, “Sure. Just let me know when you’re free. We can do whatever you want.”

“I will,” you reply softly. “I’m getting tired now, though, so goodnight, Tim. And good luck with Isabel and your decision.”

“Yeah, thanks. Goodnight.”

You bite your tongue to keep from saying I love you one last time, and as you set your phone down, actively pulling away from your best friend, you want to call him back and ask if you ever had a chance. Instead, you press your face into your pillow and force yourself to think about other things as you fall asleep.

✯✯✯✯✯

You sit in bed and stare at your phone as your finger hovers over the star beside Tim’s contact. When you remove him from your favorites list, everything will begin to feel real. Just as you lower your finger, your phone buzzes with a text from Tim. Three simple words make your heart pound as you read them.

Call me, please.

You want more information before you decide to call him or not. Distancing yourself will be hard enough without Tim vying for your attention the entire time you pull away. Clicking the star so it disappears, you make the first step in separating your life from Tim Bradford’s.

“Please be the right choice,” you whisper, staring at his contact photo. “I just want you to be happy. Happier than I could make you.”

An hour later, your phone rings, and you send Tim to voicemail. If it is an emergency, he’ll leave a voicemail. With each unanswered call and text, the time between them lengthens. Maybe Tim has already realized you weren’t as important to him as you both seemed to think.

By the end of the first day not talking to Tim, you want to scream and cry simultaneously. It’s hard to lose a friend, but harder to lose the one person you love. Reminding yourself constantly that you’re doing it for Tim and his happiness, you don’t give yourself time to think about how much your decision and the distance are hurting you. You knew Tim would hurt for a while before finding his way back to Isabel, but you weren’t expecting to feel like a piece of your heart had been ripped out. That’s what you get for giving it to Tim without telling him, you suppose.

✯✯✯✯✯

After a sleepless night of tossing and turning, someone knocks on your door as the sun rises over Los Angeles. You roll out of bed and pull a sweatshirt over your head before looking through the peephole. Tim stands on the other side of the door and speaks before you can think about pretending to be gone.

“I know you’re here,” Tim calls. “I don’t have a lot of time, just wanted to check on you before work.”

After you open the door, you look out at him and give him a closed-lip smile. He looks at you like he can see straight through you, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could.

“We made a huge arrest last night and a couple of us are going out tonight to celebrate,” he says instead. “Do you want to come out with us?”

“Uh, no, but thanks for the offer. I’ve got a lot going on right now, and-“

“Like what?”

You tilt your head to the side, wondering what he means.

“What’s got you so busy that you can’t even text me back?”

“I- I don’t want to talk about it right now, Tim,” you say, opting to deflect rather than lie. “But congratulations on the arrest and have fun tonight.”

Tim’s jaw tightens as he nods. You watch as he walks away, wishing you could run after him. As you close your door, you decide that slowly pulling back will not work; if you want to give Tim room to find his way back to Isabel, you must leave him.

Pushing your fist against the closed door, you take a deep breath before walking through your place and gathering everything that reminds you of Tim. After placing it in a box, you shove it into your closet. Next, you turn off the notifications in your phone, so you won’t be tempted to answer when he calls or texts. The hurt of losing Tim worsens with each action as you pull yourself further away from him.

“Please be happy,” you beg as you close the door on your box of memories.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’re grumpier than usual,” Nolan notices. “I mean- sorry,” he adds quickly.

“Timothy,” Angela calls. “A word?”

“No,” Tim replies.

“Bradford, now.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he stands and walks to her desk. She gestures for him to sit, and while he should feel like a kid in the principal’s office, he feels more like a man being told his wife is divorcing him and having to maintain a brave face even as his heart shatters in his chest.

“What do you want, Lopez?” he asks. “No small talk.”

“I wouldn’t dream of trying with you, Timothy. I want to know what’s up with you and why you’re taking it out on everyone here.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You’re making it our business by pushing your frustration, or whatever it is you’re dealing with, off onto us. Is it Isabel? I heard she’s back in rehab.”

“No,” Tim answers, scoffing as he leans back. “It’s not Isabel.”

“Is there any chance that part of you still cares about her, and even if you’re lying to me and yourself about it, Isabel still affects you?” Angela asks.

“No, Lopez. I can guarantee that this has nothing to do with Isabel. She asked me to visit her as part of her support plan and I told her I would think about it, but the ‘source of my frustration’ hasn’t even let me do that.”

“Timothy, just tell me what’s bothering you and maybe I can help,” she offers quietly.

Tim stands as he replies, “You can’t. The only one who can help me with this is avoiding me.”

Angela’s brows furrow as she wonders who he could be referring to. Tim is adamant this isn’t about Isabel, but Angela can’t think of anyone else with this level of pull over him.

“Let me know if you change your mind and want to talk, Tim.”

“Will do,” he answers, though he and Angela know it’s a lie.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Isabel!” Tim calls, jogging to catch up to her. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replies, hugging him quickly. “I thought you were going to call my sponsor with your decision.”

“I was, and I did. But I also wanted to let you know, in person, that I can’t be part of your support plan. At least, not right now, not after everything I did over the last few years.”

Isabel nods as she guesses, “You feel partially responsible and don’t want to risk letting me fall back into my old ways. I get it, Tim, but thanks for considering it.”

Tim nods, and Isabel can tell something is bothering him.

“You want to stay? Talk for a bit?” she asks.

“I can’t. I’ve got a work thing,” he replies. “Thank you, though, and good luck with everything. I’ll be back by when I have some time.”

“Tim,” Isabel interjects, wrapping her hand around his forearm. “I recognize that look. I only saw it once, and it didn’t turn out well for me. Whatever it is you want to say to whoever it is, just say it.”

“I don’t know how,” Tim admits.

“My take: if she’s important enough to affect you like this, you’ll find a way to let her know what you’re feeling.”

“What if she doesn’t care, Isabel?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Tim, but I can tell you that waiting too long doesn’t make things any easier… I have to go, I’ve got a group meeting, but, Tim, what’s worth the risk: saying something or keeping it quiet until it’s too late?”

Tim nods before he waves as Isabel turns toward another building. Tim texts Nolan that won't be at the celebratory gathering while he walks to his truck. He knows where he needs to go but doesn’t know how to deal with everything once he gets there. Hopefully, seeing you will give him the right words to say.

✯✯✯✯✯

You broke your heart trying to let Tim be happy and keep yourself from getting hurt in the fallout of losing him. Your house seems bare, every picture and memory of Tim tucked away in a failed attempt to keep your mind off him. A knock draws you out of your miserable reverie. Whoever it is knocks again when you leave it unanswered, the sound harsher and louder than the first time.

“Coming!” you call.

You open the door without thinking and are surprised to see Tim standing on the other side.

“Can I come in?” he asks in response to your stunned silence.

Say no, your mind says, but your heart makes you step back and invite him inside again. Pushing him away the second time will be much worse, but you can’t seem to stay away from Tim.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Tim says.

He leans against your kitchen counter with his arms crossed, waiting for an explanation you don’t want to give. The whole point of making room for him and Isabel to reconcile (like he wants) was for Tim to figure it out himself.

“Ready for what?” you ask defensively.

Tim shakes his head and scoffs as he tightens his arms over his chest. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? After everything we’ve been through together, you really expect to avoid me without an explanation or question?”

“Everything we’ve been through?” you repeat incredulously. “We’re friends, Tim. Friends stop hanging out when one of them gets busy.”

“Oh, now we’re friends? Were we friends when you crawled into my bed three weeks ago, or when we were making out on the beach? Because that didn’t feel very friendly,” he snaps.

“No, we weren’t friends; I was just a woman who made a mistake,” you reply.

“Am I your friend or am I a mistake?” Tim demands. “Because you can’t seem to keep your story straight. It’s a simple question: why are you avoiding me?”

“If I’m such a bad friend, why does it matter, Tim?”

Tim pushes off the counter, stepping toward you. His jaw clenches, and his biceps flex as he raises his arms in question. You would kiss him any other time, but right now, you’re angry that he can’t just trust you are busy. Granted, it is a lie, but you don’t appreciate the accusation, which is likely your emotions talking.

“I’m not answering your question unless you answer mine,” he says.

“Then I guess we’re not going anywhere.”

Tim looks up at the ceiling before asking, “Why?”

“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you all night. If you think I’m a liar, just say it, Tim!”

“Well, you are the one keeping secrets.”

“So, what, you think I’m avoiding you? Then get out and let me!” you demand.

“And go where? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not surrounded by friends, and I thought you were one of the few I had, but I can see now that I made a mistake.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry that your precious, perfect little world decided to turn you into this,” Tim seethes, looking into your eyes as he steps toward the door.

You move with him, chest to chest, as you yell, “And I’m sorry that you couldn’t figure out I love you enough to let you go back to Isabel!”

Tim falls silent, and your chest heaves with anger. You realize what you admitted, drop your gaze to Tim’s chest, and lick your lips before lowering your voice to speak again.

“Maybe I was stupid for chasing after you when I knew you weren’t interested, that your heart would always be with someone else. I thought that someday you’d realize that everything I’ve done over the last few years has been for you; I’ve been chasing you just to find out that I never had a chance.”

“I don’t want to go back to Isabel,” Tim says after a moment of tense silence. “I went to see her today to tell her that I couldn’t be there for her anymore. If I’ve been acting different, chasing after someone, it’s because I’m falling for you.”

“You don’t fall,” you argue quietly.

“You deserve better,” Tim adds. “I don’t remember what it’s like to share my life with someone who cares about me and wants the same thing.”

You nod and try to step back, but Tim moves with you. The couch is right behind you, and you have nowhere to go, so you look into Tim’s eyes.

“I am not in love with Isabel,” Tim repeats. “You really started avoiding me because you thought I was?”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“You could have asked instead of forcing me to start a yelling match for answers,” Tim replies, his lips quirking up into a small smile.

“I want you to be happy, Tim,” you explain. “And I thought that couldn’t happen if I was in the way.”

“You’re not in the way. You’re exactly where I want you.”

“Where is that?” you ask, leaning toward Tim.

“Right in the middle of my life.”

You raise your arms over Tim’s shoulders, smiling as his hands meet your waist. Tim pushes you against the back of the couch as he kisses you. He moves a hand up to cradle your head as you move with him. This kiss differs from the others; there is a need for more, an apology, and love coursing through you and Tim. Tim pulls back, and you pant for air as he places his hands on either side of your hips and leans forward.

“Just talk to me next time, would you?” he requests.

“And miss out on this? No way,” you argue.

“Don’t seem so excited about getting to yell at me for so long.”

“You’ve never kissed me like that before,” you say before you distract Tim by moving your hands to his chest.

“You’ve never told me you love me before today.”

“Sorry I had to avoid you for a while to confess it.”

“Maybe we can do it again soon, without the insults before.”

“I don’t know,” you muse. “Insults and yelling are kind of your thing.”

Tim cuts you off, kissing you again and tipping you over the back of the couch. You laugh as he catches himself and hovers over you.

“I love you too, even though you were too blind to see I felt the same,” Tim whispers.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford angst #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #requests #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

339 notes · View notes

kaleldobrev · 6 months

Text

Stupidest Person Alive

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a near death experience in which you almost lost Dean, you tell him that you can’t risk losing him again.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Cursing (9x), Fluff, Soft!Dean, Parent!Dean

Authors Note: I refuse to accept the canon ending of Supernatural after all these years | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You don’t know the exact amount of time you’ve been sitting in this uncomfortable hospital chair, curled up, huddled underneath a random flannel of Dean’s that was in a duffel bag in the trunk of Baby. You rubbed your eyes, trying to get rid of the sleepiness; surprised that you even managed to get a wink of sleep.

The last few days have honestly been some of the worst days of your life, as you were told by doctor after doctor that Dean’s condition didn’t seem to be getting any better. It stayed the same, which was a good and bad thing. He was in and out of consciousness, barely awake long enough to have a conversation. His eyes would just flutter open and he would briefly look at you. And you would smile at him, and he would do the same. His lips always looking like he was about to say something but he never did as his eyes just shut again. Each and every time his eyes shut, a part of you hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time.

The last few days have given you a lot of time to reflect, reflect about your time as a hunter; thinking about all of the good you have done, but also thinking about all of the times you’ve nearly died or have actually died. In the words of Dorothy, “you’re not a real hunter unless you’ve come back from the dead.” And you, Sam, and Dean have come back from the dead more times than you could count at this point, but you’re pretty sure Dean had the highest death count.

“Not awake yet?” Sam asked, two Styrofoam cups of coffee in hand.

“No,” you answered as he handed you one of the cups, “Thanks.”

“I’m surprised you fell asleep,” he said, taking a spot in the chair next to yours.

“How long was I out for?” You asked, taking a sip from your coffee. You hated the taste of hospital coffee, but the caffeine it contained had to do for now.

“Only half an hour,” he stated.

“You get any?” He shook his head. “You really need to get at least a little rest. We’re no help to Dean tired.”

Sam couldn’t help but agree, but he had the same mind set as you; he wanted to be awake when Dean woke up. “I’ll sleep when I know he’s okay,” he said, stubborn as he usually was.

When Dean finally woke, he didn’t really know where he was. But all he knew was that the lights were too bright for him. He struggled to keep his eyes open as he squinted, trying to adjust. “Fuck these lights are bright,” he said weakly.

You almost had wanted to laugh, hearing Dean say these words. The man had been out for the last few days and the first thing he had to comment on was the fucking brightness of the lights. But if you were being honest, it was pretty on brand for him. “Hey Sleepy Head,” you said, getting up from the hospital chair.

“Hey there Sweetheart,” he smiled. “Sam with you?”

“Yeah, just talking to one of the doctors,” you said. You took his hand and held it in yours, and all Dean could do was just stare at your face, admiring it like he was just seeing you for the first time.

“How long was I out?” He asked. “My head and stomach are fucking killing me.”

"A few days," you replied. "To be fair, you've been on pain killers pretty much the whole time and not a lot of actual food in your stomach."

"When we get out of here, can we go get a couple of cheeseburgers?" He asked, grinning at you.

"Of course we can," you smiled.

"So, I really fucked my body up bad this time uh?" He asked, letting out a small chuckle.

“If you call nearly killing yourself fucking up your body than yes,” you said, no humor in your voice. He could tell that you were pissed. “You know Dean, I love you, but you’re honestly the stupidest fucking person alive.”

“Love you too Sweetheart,” he grinned.

“I’m serious. I thought I fucking lost you for good this time. Me and Sam…” you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. There was no point in getting upset, no point in being mad at Dean. “We thought you were dead, dead this time.”

Dean looked at your face, hearing the sound of your voice, and it started to break his heart. He didn’t realize how much pain his actions had caused you and Sam over the course of the last few days. When he killed that vamp the way that he did, he wasn’t thinking about himself in that moment, wasn’t thinking about you or Sam. All he could think about was killing that vamp with the items that he had surrounding him. Being resourceful was one of his most useful and best qualities (at least he seemed to think so). “I’m sorry I scared you…and Sam.”

“It’s not your fault Dean I’m just…I was so fucking scared,” you felt yourself about to cry, but you didn’t want to tear up. “You and Sam are all I have left.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” he tried reassuring you, but he knew his words weren’t going to stick.

“But I almost did. And I can’t…I can’t have that again,” you said, your voice slightly shaking. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” He was afraid to ask, hoping this wasn’t you cutting and running. But he wouldn’t blame you if you did. You deserved a far better life than what he could give you. And despite him loving you, he wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him.

“Hunting.” A wave of relief washed over Dean. “We’ve died so many fucking times. More than, more than anyone. And, I know as hunters we save people, save people from all the monsters in the world but, I’m tired. I’m tired of the constant moving. The constant fighting. The constant looking over my shoulder.” Like the Winchesters, hunting was the only life you had ever known, but having a life away from the monsters and demons was something that you had dreamed of. And it was a dream that you had pictured doing with Dean; it was something the two of you often talked about.

“Okay,” was all Dean said to your speech. He agreed with all of it, and you knew that he did, as having a life away from hunting was something you two often talked about. But neither of you ever thought that it would be possible for you, as this was really the only life either of you really knew. “As soon as I get out of here, we’re done. And done for good this time.”

Five Years Later…

The aroma of your homemade chicken noodle soup filled the air as you did another few stirs in the pot on the stove. You heard the front door open and close, and you smiled, quickly wiping your hands on your kitchen towel. “Honey we’re home!” Dean yelled, his voice cheerful as always.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” Your daughter yelled, her voice equally as joyful as her fathers as she ran to meet you in the kitchen.

Her arms opened up wide as you went down on your knees to greet her at her level, the two of you embracing each other. “Hi baby,” you smiled, kissing her on the top of the head.

“Hold me?” She asked, giving similar looking puppy dog eyes to that of her Uncle Sam’s.

“Always,” you said, picking her up in your arms. “How did you do at the doctors?”

“I was very brave,” she answered. She pointed to a sparkly strawberry sticker on her shirt. “The doctor gave me this because I did a really good job,” she said and then looked over at Dean. “Right daddy?”

“Bravest kid there,” he smiled. “Doctor even told her she’s her favorite patient.”

“Favorite patient uh?” You smiled. “Now that’s really something,” you said, giving her another kiss on her temple.

“Mom, after dinner can you and daddy tell me some more of those spooky stories?” Your daughter asked. You smiled, and so did Dean. The spooky stories that she was referencing were all of the hunts that you and Dean had been on throughout the years, but it was something that you never straight out told her (not yet at least, the both of you wanted to keep her as naive as long as possible). You never used either of your names, or Sam’s, you always changed the names, but these were stories that she had grown to love, and always expected a new one every single time. Thankfully, but not too thankfully, you and Dean were always able to tell her something new as the two of you had decades worth of hunts between you.

“Of course, what do you wanna hear about today?” Dean asked.

Your daughter thought for a moment, putting her thinking cap on until a lightbulb in her little head appeared; the biggest grin on her face. “Ghosts!”

You and Dean exchanged looks, almost thankful that she picked an easy topic for todays story. “How would you like to hear about the Van Ness House?” You asked her.

“It sounds spooky already!” She beamed.

Five years you and Dean, along with Sam and Eileen have been living the domestic life, none of you have hunted for the last five years. In all honesty, you were surprised that you and Dean had managed not to hunt, as hunting was something that the two of you had only known. When Dean told you five years ago that he was done with hunting for good because you said you were done, there was a part of you that didn’t believe him, as the last time he said he was done he got roped back in (which meant you got roped back in), when the both of you found out that Sam had returned from the pit.

But these last five years have been life changing for the both of you, as not only did the two of you have a beautiful daughter together, but you were happily married in addition to that — two things that neither of you ever thought would happen nor would ever be possible.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #dean x you #dean x reader #reader insert #female reader

468 notes · View notes

wandasfifthwife · 1 month

Text

(2) cheeks turning red ✩‧₊˚ competing series

hockey coach!wanda x fem!ex figure skater reader

tw: mentions of alcohol (neither r or wanda consume it), two brief mentions of toxic parents (r’s mom went to jail), wanda & r flirting lmao

a/n: not proofread, this is fresh outta the oven babes. Idk how I feel about this bc I feel I’m not good with writing fluff like this LMAO

prev chap ✩ ══╡˚m.list˚╞══ ✩ next chap

It was a call from your brother. On the other end of the phone, he was begging you to come over and entertain them at dinner.

“It’s good to see you,” your brother had said earnestly when you had walked up. He wrapped you in a hug, one you sunk into.

“Tyler is at a friend’s place. It’s good for him to get out, he’s been struggling with friends.”

“He’s been doing fine at practice?”

He shuts the door behind you, “I mean at school, he’s been complaining that they’re immature.”

His wife calls from further in the house, appearing from a corner to come and greet you. She’s always been welcoming, but the relationship between you still feels fresh. The table was already set, the dishes laid out on the table.

“How’s Tyler been at practice other than the friends he’s been making?”

“Oh he’s picking it up well,” you slide the chair closest to the window out to sit, “cocky as ever, but he’s doing well.”

“Good. What do you think of the coach?”

An uncomfortable look is shared between him and his wife, it makes you feel small. The look they shared felt usually like they knew something you didn’t, or that they had to walk on eggshells around you.

“She’s great,” you defuse the silence, “We don’t have to talk about any of that, I’m moving on.”

“Sweet, we just care to check in,” she finally steps into the conversation. You could tell your brother wanted to hash it out yet again, saying it’s because he cares but you’ve said the conversations make it worse. When your mind wants to forget about it, the constant back-track doesn’t help.

“Tyler’s coach and I are talking.”

The sentence had him stuttering, shock written on his face, “when? And how?”

His wife has a similar look on her face, but the small smile on her face eases the pressure in your chest.

“The situation’s a bit different from how you two met. A man hit on me, remember what I talked about last week? She scared him off, we introduced ourselves, and started saying hi whenever we saw each other.”

He points a finger at you, “that’s different. Do you like her?”

“She slipped her number in my coat pocket, I’d say we’re both interested.”

“It probably took you a day to realize it was there.”

You attempt to hide your smile but it’s futile, and the two laughs at the sight. He sighs and leans back in his seat, no longer hunching over the table, “I also wanted to ask how your job’s been going? You still with that company?”

“I’m staying with them unless they refuse to give me a raise, the amount they’re giving is barely enough to cover rent.”

He hums, “if you need anything, we’re here.”

You smile as a thank you and divert the conversation away from you by asking about their lives. They’re always eager to, their body language becoming more open and relaxed once they begin to. It could be a result of overthinking, but at times you feel most conversations surrounding you are negative. The one you just had about your nephew’s coach was the first time you collectively connected positively.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

Within a second of closing the door to your apartment, your phone lit up the dark room. It was hurting your eyes, but you had never really cared to check who the recipient was until this moment. It wasn’t formatted properly, the text sent in a rush. The text read, “call me when you can,” just with random spacing and two misspelled words.

You debated waiting in hopes to seem hard to get, but you couldn’t wait any longer without hearing her voice. So you pressed on her contact, pressing your phone to your ear and sliding your shoes off in the foyer.

“Is everything alright,” you began, a small amount of concern bleeding into how you spoke.

“It can be,” she says, the pause between her words almost suffocating, “you deserve a nice dinner, and I will take you to one if you so wish to. But I have a formal event later tonight and need a plus one, I-“

“I’ll go as your plus one.”

“Oh wonderful. Thank you, thank you. I’ll come to your place at 9.”

She ends the call right after and you’re thankful she did. You can feel your heart fall out from your chest with the pitiful ache forming. If it were to be nerves or excitement, neither you nor your mind fully understands the difference.

With the lights now turned on it causes you to squint due to the sudden onset of light. You stumble to find your bedroom to open your window and let fresh air in. The projected event later that night turned your stomach into knots and mind into a blank slate of irrational anxiety. It was sudden and unexpected, but it was welcomed. What wasn’t welcomed was the following emotions, like anxiety.

The sun had settled under the surface, turning your room orange. With the sun lowering it set your alarm off. The tv across from you shut off and you slid off your bed.

Each minute passed while you got ready, and so did an alarm. Rather it was better to have three annoying alarms remind you of how much time you had than to be rushing out late. You had to remind yourself of that when it went off while you were in the shower, scaring you.

The parking lot was empty save for four cars in their assigned spots. Wanda had called earlier with questions on where you lived and if she had to do anything to get through the complex’s gate. Five minutes later here she was driving towards you.

A shaking hand reached towards the car door, opening it. She continued to watch you as you shut the door, you knew based off of feeling her eyes on you. It made your mind blank.

“I want to thank you again,” she admits, looking to you occasionally as she drives towards her friend’s estate. “It was last minute. I forgot about it until I saw the reminder on my phone.”

You smile at her, “you’re fine. What’s the event for?”

“My friend from college is getting married, this is some sort of together party. It doesn’t make sense and that’s just because they’re wealthy.“

“Who’s the wealthy one?”

“In a way both of their families are, but the bride’s family has a stable job set out for her.”

“How’d you meet?”

She stops at a red light, the color highlighting a side of her face when she turns towards you.

“She was in a class of mine. Connected over a terrible professor. I’m still surprised he still teaches there when all he does is read off of a slide show.”

You roll your eyes dramatically, “figures.”

When she parks, it’s behind a car brand you know is high on the market. It’s fun to dress nice, but it’s another thing when it feels like you’re playing dress up.

Wanda comes to your door, opening it for you and smiling when you fall forward into her. Your foot had fell between the crack of grass and concrete, twisting it and causing you to lean further into her chest.

“I don’t know anyone here expect for my friend, so you have no reason to fear me walking away. I’m in the same boat as you,” she whispers while shutting the car door behind you. A hand stays on your back as you two walk towards the lit up building.

The only awkward part of the night was when she greeted her friend, causing you to stand beside her as she did so. You pay it no mind though, appreciating the way she introduced you into the conversation. You give an occasional response, smiling politely to pass the time until they bid their goodbyes.

“I feel miserable,” she begins, walking you further into the house, “I dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything. I choose to come.”

She looks relieved, her expression now at ease. Her fingers grasp a glass near her, bringing it toward you for you to take.

“I would like to know you more,” she says while taking one for herself, “did you do another sport besides ice skating?”

“I tried soccer, hated it.”

She leans into the counter, facing sideways as compared to you. Her tone easy when she speaks, “what happened?”

“I didn’t like the competitive nature.”

“Did you competitive ice skating? What’s different?”

“You’re actively going against another team. I enjoy being competitive, I don’t like working with a team against another team.”

She hums, shaking her head in disbelief, “I would be crazy to believe that. I need to play with a team.”

You mock her hum, “of course you would.”

A faux offended expression comes on her face, “what’s that supposed to mean? Thought you said I’m a great coach.”

“You are, you just fit the criteria to enjoy a sport where you ram into others and shove a small puck around.”

“Is that why you said I’m a great coach?”

“You won’t let that go, huh?”

She scoots closer, “not until you tell me why.”

You roll your eyes a second time, laughing and pushing her back. She shrugs, “when a pretty woman compliments your teaching style, it’s important to know why so I can continue.”

You look at her incredulously. Unconsciously all nerves you had before beginning to fade away as the night continues. She’s easy to talk to and tease, a contrast from you’re used to.

“You’re genuine.”

“In what, I need more. In how I shove your nephew around? In what?”

“You’re an absolute dork. I mean in how you treat the boys, you care about them. Like you cultivate relationships with them. Even mix of stern and supportive.”

“Some coach expert you are, who’re you comparing me to.”

You have a choice to opt out, but she has an air of freedom. A feeling that you want to fall into more, so you open up that space.

“My mom.”

“Oh,” she gets closer, making your heart race, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, she’s in jail now. Long gone.”

“Shit wow, okay,” Wanda laughs, an endearing grin on her face, “you’re full of history.”

A couple of drinks and long conversations later, you begin to pull away from the party. The atmosphere was calm on the drive home. With the gentle hum of the AC and Wanda’s presence, it lured you to lean fully into the car door beside you.

“If you’d like to sleep, go ahead. It’s pretty late.”

You glance to the clock, finding the numbers 2:00 glaring back at you. A sigh comes from you, “no.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, her husky voice cracking at your resolve. You watch her side profile, a hand under your head.

“You have a slight accent,” you begin and she cuts you off, apologizing for whatever reason.

“What? I was going to say it’s attractive.”

She huffs, looking a bit shocked, “thank you. It might be because English isn’t my first language.”

“What is it,” you ask tiredly, resisting how your eyes are practicing closing.

“It’s Sokovian. And doll, sleep. I promise I don’t mind.”

You didn’t have the energy to respond, the last coming from you being a muffled him before you drifted off. Twenty or thirty minute could’ve passed, but you woke when you felt the car turn at the strange loop getting off the highway. A slight headache begin to appear as you slowly woke up.

“I was about wake you,” she laughs softly, “you seemed to know we’re almost back.”

You groan with a hand in your head, “I regret sleeping, my head hurts.”

“Poor baby, do you have medicine?”

You nod at her question, reaching below to grab at your stuff that had fallen by your feet. The complex’s lights come into view and you’re almost thankful to lay down in your actual bed. What a gift it is to be able to do so.

“Thank you,” you start, “I had a wonderful time. I’m so sorry for just knocking out there at the end.“

“No worries,” she parks the car out front and you can feel the nerves from before spark.

“I would like to see you again,” you say quietly, looking into her eyes, “if that’s okay.”

“Love to. I can get you after practice Tuesday.”

The shyness comes back, everything within you burning at the idea of seeing her again. Your lungs heave in air looking at her, and she knows with the way she begins to smirk weird.

“You’re a goof,” you say finally, moving to climb out of the car. She laughs and waves you off.

Once finally in bed, you weren’t able to sleep with the way you kept replaying the way she was looking at you. It was dangerous, each one pulling you further into her.

prev chap ✩ ══╡˚m.list˚╞══ ✩ next chap

@dorabledewdroop @aru-son @thelittleliars

@sokovianbaby @natsbiggestfan1

@r0manxff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

@emiliaisdead @esposadejoyhuerta

@shinysuitcloud @xxsekhmet

@casquinhaa @scarlettbitchx

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #hockey coach!wanda #competing series

328 notes · View notes

stitched-mouth-vs-the-world · 6 months

Text

Edge You To Death

Pairing: Undertaker x AFAB! Reader or Undertaker x Fem! Reader.

Summary: Undertaker loves ruining your orgasms.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Casual sex, Undertaker and Reader have a weird ‘situationship’, Age gap relationship, Mention of pedophila (not in reference to Undertaker! UT is not a pedo!), Reader is unaware Undertaker is a reaper or of what he does for Ciel, Reader has MY personal thoughts on pedophila (I don’t think they are controversial but just in case you don’t wanna here it skip the introduction), Oral sex (fem receiving), Edging, Daddy kink.

Writing Time: 1 hour.

Word Count: 1,317.

Format: Kinktober Fic, Day 20.

A/N:

I kinda forgot wtf I was doing here.

Most of my Kinktober works were written well in advance, but this wasn’t one of them. I wrote this 2 days before it was due. My requests are pilling up but I should start prioritising these now. I doubt I’ve gotten that Matthew Patel request done yet, I planned to do that when I got the requester’s first message about it, sent the same day I got the request, but not anymore. Sounds a lot like a request got ages ago on my previous account but deleted when I started feeling harassed by the requester. This is more for the Matthew Patel requester than anyone else but yeah… don’t harass people about requests especially if it hasn’t been that long since you sent it. Everyone, harass me over a request and I’ll just delete it. You can send one reminder after a week and that’s it. Anymore and I delete. I usually have requests done in a week or two and those kinds of messages just destroy my motivation.

Anyway! Please enjoy this Undertaker smut.

Here are my other Kinktober 2023 works.

—-///—-

You had been feeling dam good since you started sleeping with the Undertaker.

You had new relationship jitters, even if it wasn’t really a relationship. He was what you had fantasied about for years. An older gentleman who was kind and treated you like a Queen, but also open about wanting to ravishing you. With his age also came along a lot of life and sexual experience, a lot more than you had. He never mocked you for knowing less than him, he was just happy you wanted to know and happily taught you a lot.

Whilst age gap relationships have always been common and considered normal prior to the Victorian era, it was slowly becoming distasteful. Something many were unhappy with but also many other who were happy. Undertaker, years ago, would have been in favour this but with you now… he was in the middle and uncomfortable with it. Surely you and his relationship was ok because you was definitely an adult.

You were pretty set in stone on the matter. To you, age gap relationships were bad, unless it was you. You were a young woman who would never say no to an older man, even when you was a girl. You knew your exes were absolutely pedos, but you didn’t care as long as it was just you they were after. And no you didn’t consider yourself a victim.

You didn’t think of Undertaker in the same way though. You was an adult when you met him therefore wasn’t bad for perusing you. Well, you perused him but it didn’t matter.

Right know you was doing some dusting in the front of Undertaker’s shop, he was in the back. The first thing you took notice of when you first met your lover… was how nasty his shop is. It’s always covered in dirt and stinked of death. Obviously it would smell of death, it’s a funeral home, but the dirt was unnecessary and you was surprised that Undertaker had tried to do something about the smell. You figured he’s probably gotten used to it now and gone nose blind.

Once you had cleaned to a satisfying amount, you heard the bell go. You looked up and saw the familiar Earl Phantomhive and his butler. The young boy always looked so dam miserable, it depressed you. You didn’t like interacting with either of them and they never seemed to want your help, so you called your bedmate.

Undertaker came into the room, happy to deal with the Phantomhive and his butler. You was aware the two engaged in a different kind of business than coffins or funeral services, but it was none of your business what their business was. So you wasn’t going to ask…

Instead you headed out of the room and upstairs to bed, it was late and you knew Undertaker would join you after he was done with his ‘business’.

—-///—-

“Sort out the Earl?” You asked.

“Yes, Dear.” Undertaker smiled as he climbed into his bed, next you.

You sat up immediately and glared at him, “How many times have I told you Undie?! No sleeping in your day clothes!”

He laughed as you pushed him out of his own bed. Yeah, Undertaker had a bad habit of sleeping in his day clothes. He didn’t own PJs until you came into his life, nearly a year ago now.

“Ok! Ok!” Undertaker walked over to his drawers to fish out his sleepwear.

Once he did, he placed them on the end of the bed and looked down at you. You gave him a small smile, suddenly remembering this was his home and his bed and who are you say anything about how he sleeps? After all, you’re not even dating.

Undertaker grinned widely at you and slowly started removing his cloak. Ah, he was trying to indicate something.

He slowly stripped completely in front of you before getting back on the bed and crawling onto you. You kissed his lip gently and took hold of his arms, but Undertaker shook your hold off his arms and grabbed your face to pull you even closer to him, deeping your kiss. He quickly slipped his tongue into your mouth, desperate for a makeout session.

You moaned in between the kisses, you were started to feel a growing sensation in between your legs. If not dealt with quickly, it would become uncomfortable. Luckily for you, Undertaker could sense your arousal and was more than willing to help.

He let go of your lips and before you could even whine or complain, he was pulling the duvet and sleep shorts down and licking your lower regions. You made your hands comfortable, pulling on the pillow under your head and proped up your legs and planted your feet into the bed.

Undertaker ate you out like a mad mad. Sucking, licking, spitting and groaning like crazy. Your pussy and it’s sweet smell made him act unusual, way less calm and in control than usual. This was something you was proud of. You had the power (or pussy) to make Undertaker lose all composure.

You started to feel less prideful about your achievement as you started to feel yourself losing to Undertaker’s tongue. Your whimpered had become cries and moans, you begged him for release but you should of known better. It would be a long while before you got that.

Undertaker grinned evily against your cunt then looked up you, just go get a glimpse of your flustered expression. Having wait himself for release was a sacrifice he was willing to make if he got to see you cry and beg him for climax. He absolutely got a weird power trip from it.

“Oh please… oh please Daddy, I need to cum now!”

“Nu uh uh! You don’t get to cum until I say so, Dearie!”

You were still staring up at the ceiling and unable to look down, but you didn’t need to look down to know Undertaker was wearing his usual evil wicked grin. He always had that look when he was planning to edge you to death.

#stitched #stitched talks #stitched mouth #stitched writes #stitched’s kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #black butler #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji smut #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji undertaker #black butler x reader #black butler smut #black butler undertaker #undertaker x reader #undertaker #undertaker smut

425 notes · View notes

pink-apollo · 2 years

Text

Simon ghost Riley accidentally yelling at S/O 🥀Headcanons🥀

So I’ve been gone for a bit…I’ll be honest I’m so surprised of all the love this account is getting g and just so thankful you guys enjoy the content🥺 It means so damn much. Also little life update, going to school and have two jobs, which is why I haven’t been writing. But I’m just really happy my motivation is coming back ^^

🥀Simon is never one to raise his voice unless they absolutely deserve it. Towards his s/o though? Absolutely not. No matter how much you piss him off with your corny jokes, your shenanigans, or just flat out getting into trouble, will he ever raise his voice at you. The amount of guilt this man would feel would be unbearable. Wouldn’t dare look you in the eye and would isolate himself so he wouldn’t have to look at you.

🥀The moment the room went silent he knew he fucked up. His heart was pounding in his chest as he closed his eyes, scrunching them up before slowly opening them back up to look at your teary face. He didn’t speak another word and went into his office, quietly shutting the door and locking it. He didn’t want to speak another word incase it would set you off. He sat in his chair and stared at the wall while he heard you sniffle on the other side. He wanted to so badly jump up and apologize and say he didn’t mean it, but he knew he needed to calm down before did or say anything

🥀A moment later he heard you shuffle around and sit behind the door. He couldn’t understand how you could still be so forgiving after what he did. Of course you knew what he did for work and how hard it could be, but always will the love still be there for when he comes home

🥀He turned his head to peak at the door and saw the blanket that you both shared poking underneath the doorframe. Simon finally decided to walk over and sit on the other side of the door, gently tugging on the blanket to get your attention

🥀”I’m sorry love….I didn’t mean-“

🥀” I forgive you.”

🥀Simon paused, unsure of what to say next. He didn’t expect you to accept his apology so quickly which left him dumbfounded for the first time in a long time. How could you though?

🥀”Can I come in?”

🥀Without hesitation Simon got up and unlocked the door, opening it to see you wrapped up tightly in the blanket. He couldn’t help but to crack a smile because of how adorable you looked

🥀 Stepping closer to Simon you wrapped yourself around him, gently peppering his face in kisses. Whispering it’s okay and that these things happen when we don’t mean it

🥀After this incident, your relationship has grown stronger. Simon isn’t perfect and at times opening up can be very hard for him, but with a little bit of love and patience he can learn to deal with these things better. Which includes telling you what he’s struggling with and what can be done to make it better so it doesn’t happen again. Even after this he does still feels incredibly guilty, of course you might have forgotten it after a while but he can’t seem to let it go.

#Simon Riley #simon riley headcanons #modern warfare #Simon ghost Riley #ghost x reader #headcanons #x reader

3K notes · View notes

host-club-hq · 9 months

Note

heyyy !!! can i submit a request ? thanks !!! feel free to reject/deny this if u want to tho !!!

reader who’s from a middle to upper middle range family and they’re like in their 20’s or so and they just seem to have a lot of time and money on their hands but their family doesn’t know what they exactly do in terms of work so they confront her and ask if they’re doing drugs or nsfw work and turns out they have a bf (kyoya) who’s just really rich

thanks !!! 🫶

➼ pairing: kyoya ootori x fem!reader (slice of life!AU)

➼ summary: you come from a middle class family and all of a sudden you’ve been spending considerably large amounts of money… and your family is wondering what exactly it is you do for a living nowadays? are you in with the wrong sort of people?

➼ word count: 2.7k

➼ what to expect: "It's worth nothing if you aren't wearing it."

➼ warnings: none :) unless an excessive amount of fluff causes you to have severe heart issues (me too babe)

➼ i literally saw this request and was like oh my god i have to write it, then since i wasn't at my laptop, proceeded to write the fic in my beta reader's dms. thank u so much for this request it actually helped me get out of a writing rut :)

You never thought you would be sitting in your apartment for a living.

Well, technically, that's not what you do for a living, but it might as well be.

You work from home, with extremely short hours and a paycheck that's nothing to write home about. You could do your job from an office, but why bother? Most of the 8 hours you would work, you'd be sitting at your desk with nothing to do, your brain going numb from lack of stimulation.

Although you don't enjoy having virtual meetings with strangers, that's basically your entire job — you are a virtual history tutor, after all.

You never wanted to be a teacher but you still wanted to pass your extensive knowledge on to other generations, so you figured either being a substitute teacher or a tutor would suffice. And when the school you applied to mentioned an online tutor position, you snatched it up and ran with it.

Of course, you had a job before this. And it definitely wasn't your dream job. Before your passion for teaching arose, you took one of the first jobs you found available that called you for an interview. The secretary of a prestigious CEO of... a company that you're not quite sure what they did (you called it your Devil Wears Prada moment). You vaguely remember copying data and putting things in color-coded folders, but the position was brutal. You were set with impossible tasks and goals that your immediate superiors struggled to reach (truly, your Devil Wears Prada moment). You contemplated swerving your car into oncoming traffic every day on your way to work at 6:30 in the morning (obviously you didn't, too many innocent lives would have been put in danger).

But, at least, that's where you met-

Knock, knock, knock-knock-knock... knock, knock

Your ears immediately perk up and you turn your head toward the front door from your position on the sofa in the living room. There's only one soul alive that would knock on your door in that fashion.

You shut your laptop rather hastily and leap up to answer the door, sliding through the kitchen and the entry foyer in your socks to get there. Honestly, the distance from the front door to your workspace could have been considered a 5k marathon (no it's not, you're just out of shape).

You don't even have to glance at the peephole before you open the door to reveal-

"y/n! Oh, my dear, how are you?" You're immediately pulled into a crushing embrace and a comforting scent surrounds you.

"Mom?" You gawk, slowly encircling your arms around her to return the hug.

"I know I probably should have called but when I thought about doing it, I was already at your door. And I have to say, this is quite the upgrade!" Your mother wanders in without an invite, in awe of the clean, neat appearance of your apartment.

Well, penthouse. You take up the entire 58th floor at the top of your building. The elevator requires a reading of your house key-card to even press the button. It opens up right in front of your door.

... how did she get up here?

"How on earth did you get up here?" You voice your thoughts as her mother discards her walking shoes beside your own, slipping on a pair of guest slippers.

"I told the man in the lobby I was your mother and you would not believe the convincing I had to do to get him to let me up. He even needed my ID!"

"Well, yeah, because you don't live here-"

"Would you look at this place! My god, y/n, how do you keep it so clean? Not a speck of dust!" Your mother, true to her nature, swipes a finger across a nearby decorative table and it comes up absolutely spotless.

"Thanks, I mean it's not-"

"You even have a foyer! And a kitchen that doesn't double as the dining room!" Your mother wanders into the next room faster than you can process her presence.

"Mom, what are-" You try to best to follow her, slipping and sliding over the wooden floors in your fluffy socks.

"Really, y/n, I never pegged you to like modern furniture! I thought you liked a little character in your possessions. But, I must say, it's much better than I imagined your living situation to be." She strolls into the living room next, gawking at the mere size.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" You frown, relieved that she seems to have finally picked a room to settle in. She sets her enormous bag on the sofa.

"What are you even doing here? Not that I don't appreciate the surprise visit..." You save quickly, smiling sheepishly at the glare she briefly sends your way.

"I wanted to see you of course. But..." She digs through her purse and pulls out a Macbook. "I came for an explanation for this." She all but waves it around. You wince.

"Careful. Why do you need an explanation for that? You mentioned you needed a better laptop and your birthday was coming up so I thought-"

"Exactly! It's perfect, it's everything I could have ever dreamed of in a laptop!" Your mother scolds. You tilt your head.

"... is that a problem?" You blink owlishly.

"First it was the watch for your father's birthday, then the mountain of stuffed animals for your little sister for Christmas, and now this!" Your mother sighs, crossing her arms after setting the Macbook on the coffee table.

"Wha- I'm sorry, I think I'm missing what the fuss is about. I tell you guys to send me your lists and you never do, so I'm sorry if it's not what you wanted-"

"It is what we wanted, that's why I'm here!" She retaliates.

"Okay, Mom, you're going to have to calm down and tell me what the problem is because I am clearly missing something here." You lead her to the coffee table, where you both lower yourselves to the floor, cross your legs, and sit beneath it.

She takes a deep, calming breath, "I'm just concerned is all. Your last job was enough for you to live and have a fair amount of money to spare, but you don't even work there anymore." Your mother places both hands on the table, avoiding your eye.

"You're right, I don't work for them anymore." You quirk a brow, curious as to where this is going.

"And now you're an online tutor who barely works more than a few hours per day, sometimes a week! So... I'm just curious..." She sighs, shaking her head.

"How are you getting the money for all of this? This is a multimillion dollar penthouse, you sent your father a 7,000 dollar watch, and you sent me a laptop worth at least a few thousand dollars." Your mother finally meets your eyes.

Before you can respond, she reaches across the table and grabs you by the shoulders.

"Just tell me the truth. Are you selling drugs? Are you stripping? Are you doing drugs? Because whatever it is, I'm sure I can talk my way into gaining your innocence in a courtroom but you have to come clean-"

"Mom! I'm not doing anything illegal!" You exclaim adamantly, shrugging her grip off your shoulders.

"Are you in credit card debt? Your father warned you about things like this, and I always thought you were a modest spender but-"

"Mom, listen to me, okay? I'm not in debt. I'm not stripping. I'm not doing drugs." You take both of her hands in yours and speak calmly. She nods, still looking a little confused.

"Then how are you getting all of the money for this?" She asks.

You chew your lip, "Well... it's not really my money-"

Just as you begin your explanation, the front door opens and shuts loudly, the sound of dress shoes click loudly against the wooden floors.

"Honey, there's someone in your house." Your mom steadies herself, reaching for her purse like she's got some sort of weapon.

"Mom? Mom!" You hiss quietly as she starts to get up.

"I'm home, darling! Are you in the living room?"

Your mother blinks at the voice calling from the foyer.

"Yeah, I'm in here!" You reply in a trembling voice, your brain trying to decide whether or not you should greet your boyfriend or calm your mother first.

Before either of you can open your mouths again, the body attached to the voice calling for you appears in the doorway.

Kyoya sheds his blazer, leaving him clad in his button up shirt tucked into his dress pants as he tosses it onto the coat rack beside him.

"I was- oh." Kyoya finally looks up, meeting your eyes first, then the worried, albeit confused, eyes of your mother.

"I'm sorry, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything." Kyoya bows politely at the presence of someone unfamiliar to him.

Your mother's instincts cause her to return the bow where she's sitting, still completely lost.

"You're not, darling." You get up from your place at the table to greet him.

Kyoya welcomes you eagerly, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, bewildering your mother further, before making eye contact with her again.

"This must be your mother. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. l/n. I've heard so much about you." Kyoya bows once more, a bit more deeply.

Your mother blinks, eyes glancing between you and Kyoya with haste.

"Mom, this is Kyoya Ootori... my boyfriend." You allow Kyoya to place a respectful arm around your back.

"Your what?" She blurts. You grimace. You knew you'd have to tell her sooner or later, but most of your high school boyfriends were intimidated by her and her doting nature.

And the fact that your father threatened to end their lives if they ever laid a finger on you.

"My boyfriend..." You sigh, almost like a scolded child.

"Ah, that reminds me. A flower for you, my dear." Kyoya sets down the shopping bag he was holding and his briefcase, handing you a rose.

"Oh, it's so pretty. Thank you." You'd rather Kyoya brought you individual flowers than an expensive bouquet since you're god-awful at keeping them alive. You peck his cheek.

"Oh, and before I forget. I saw this in a store window on my way home and I couldn't help but imagine how well it would paired with that black dress you know I like so much. I thought you could wear it to dinner." Kyoya pulls out a large, black velvet box from the shopping bag and turns toward you.

"Kyoya, we've talked about this-"

"I know. You don't like when I spend money on you but I just couldn't help myself." He opens the box to reveal a necklace glittering with diamonds, more than you can count. It glimmers in the light and you're afraid to even touch it, let alone wear it.

"Oh, my god, this must have cost a fortune." Your jaw goes slack. Your mother nosily peers over your shoulder and gasps loudly.

"It's worth nothing if you aren't wearing it." Kyoya smiles. A pretty pink hue dusts your cheeks at the compliment as your heart flutters.

"Thank you, my love. It's breathtaking." You gently take the box from him so he can gather his own things.

"Would your mother like to join us for dinner? I'm sure they won't mind moving us to a different table." Kyoya inquires innocently.

Your mother in question is still completely baffled by all of this.

"So... so you're dating my daughter? And... you're rich?" Your mother blurts.

"Mom!" You scold.

Kyoya chuckles, "I'm under the impression you hadn't been told about me. My apologies."

"Kyoya!" You scold him next.

"And... and this is... your house?" Your mother gestures to your surroundings.

"Yes, ma'am." Kyoya nods affirmatively.

"I moved in about... I want to say two months ago or so." You shrug. Kyoya nods.

"And how long have you been dating exactly?" She quirks a brow.

You nearly cringe at your answer, "... a year."

"A YEAR?" Your mother all but shrieks, earning a wince from you.

"Mom, it's not a big deal-" You reach for her to calm her down.

"It is a big deal! You've been seeing this gorgeous man with a mansion behind my back!" She gestures wildly to Kyoya, who blinks at her, brows raised at her reaction.

"Not behind your back! You never asked!" You insist.

"That's because you swore off men in high school after that boy stood you up-"

"WE don't have to talk about that." You want to shove your hands over her mouth. Kyoya quirks a brow quietly from behind you.

You sigh, "I met him while I was a secretary. He owns a portion of his father's company and was scheduled to meet with my boss."

That's the only thing you're thankful to that secretary position for. Your boss had buzzed for you to prepare two cups of tea for him and his guest. Once you brought them their tea, your attention was stolen by the man sitting across from your superior. Luckily, you didn't drop any of the china on your way in once you caught sight of him. After Kyoya was finished meeting with your boss, he struck up a light conversation with you that had your heart soaring. Simply basking in his beauty and powerful nature made you swoon.

Kyoya returned to your boss's office far more often than he ever needed to after his first interaction with you. He appeared at your desk, asking for your boss when these types of things could have definitely been handled over the phone. At first he didn't understand why he did it, but he soon realized his feelings for you when he caught himself asking you to dinner on his way out one day.

"I still don't understand why you didn't tell me you were dating this man. Let alone living with him." Your mother finally calms down enough to have your heart aching with guilt.

"I meant to, Mom, but I just... I guess I was afraid of how you'd react." You admit finally, fidgeting with your fingers.

"Kyoya helps me pay for you gifts because I want the best for you. But honestly, he can get you much nicer things than I pick out... I'm pretty sure he can buy you a house." You mutter your last sentence.

Your mother laughs, "If my daughter likes him, I like him. Come here, Kyoya." She strides forward and pulls Kyoya down for a tight embrace.

Kyoya nearly chokes, clearly rendered speechless by her sudden show of affection. He manages to reciprocate despite his shock.

"Thank you. I can assure you, I only want the best for your daughter. I'm sorry we haven't met sooner." Kyoya grins.

He has contemplated reaching out to your mother by himself despite your adamant disapproval. But he hated the idea of going behind your back to do anything at all, so he kept to himself.

"It's alright, dear. I'd love to get to know you better. Are you sure I wouldn't be a bother at dinner?" Your mother returns to the woman you know and love.

"Not at all." You shake your head, a wide grin spreading to your lips.

"I'll call the the driver, tell him to bring around the SUV rather than the Benz." Kyoya pulls out his cellphone.

"A driver?" Your mother gasps, placing a hand over her chest and glancing to you for confirmation. You nod, biting your lip eagerly.

Once Kyoya's sent the short message, your mother slots herself beside him and curls her arm around his.

"So, Kyoya, you own your father's company?" The two of them walk in the direction of your shared bedroom, side by side. You watch as they leave you standing in the living room.

"Just a portion of it, yes. We're in the medical business, you see, managing hospitals and..." Kyoya's voice fades off into the house. He doesn't seem to mind your mother's sudden attention in the slightest, even switching his jacket to his other arm to accommodate her like the gentleman he is.

You purse your lips, glancing down once more to the velvet box in your hands and you're reminded that you need to start getting ready for dinner. You follow them, rolling your eyes as you hear your mother start to ask about just how well Kyoya's been treating you.

This is going to be the longest dinner of your life.

want to read more? here's my ouran masterlist 🌹

and here's my bts blog💜

want me to write something you want to see? request something💌

have any questions? talk to my characters!🙏🏻

Adieu~ 🌹🌹🌹

#kyoya ootori #kyoya ootori x reader #kyoya x reader #ouran #kyoya #ouran host club #ohshc #ouran high school host club #host club #kyoya fluff #kyoya angst #reader insert #x reader #kyoya imagine #host-club-hq

339 notes · View notes

koiir · 11 months

Text

I fancy you! (I love you)

— In which they spoil you

Characters - Ayato, Childe, Diluc, Heizou x fem!reader

Genre - fluff, a bit suggestive in Childe’s part

Not proofread

Are you really surprised that Ayato spoils you to the brim? He did this even before the two of you got together. Always finding a way to figure out what you wanted, he says it’s as a way to thank you for being his friend. And hopefully soon, more than friends. You remember always being greeted with gifts whenever the two of you would met. Flowers, jewelry, clothing, it didn’t matter what Ayato had given you, it would all be designed by him to your liking.

He didn’t want you to receive just any normal gift, he wanted to make it known that it was by him. You still remember the day Ayato had asked you to be his. I mean, how could you forget? With the way he had set up dinner for the two of you, with the surprise firework show he had planned, and all the flowers he had gotten you, it was a night you would never forget.

It got even worse when the two of you become official, ayato who would leave small gifts to you first thing in the morning, making a promise to spend the afternoon together once he had finished his duties. And of course, that only meant more spendings for the man that cherished you. Eyes stayed glued to the two of you as you walked about, gasping at how many bags the two of you carried (which was mainly stuff for you as a matter of fact).

It didn’t matter what others said about his unbelievable spending habits on the one he loved, Ayato knew that you only deserved the best. He also knew that it was a way to show others who belonged to him. So why not spend as much as he can on the one who deserves it?

Childe who never seems to run out of date ideas, how does he even come up with them? One thing though that never changes is the ungodly amount he will spend. “And? Cmon babe it’ll be fun I promise!” And oh. It was amazing. It was like an adventure for you two, the way he even surprised you with a boat for two of you to stay in made you gasp with excitement.

And of course, the little stay on this boat trip was only filled with the best of the best. One to be exact was the food, oh how amazing the food was, how did Childe even get this food? And the price? You knew he would spend a fortune just for you to enjoy the food. Yet one of the greatest joys that came with this was the fact that the both of you would cook together. You always loved it when he showed of his cooking skills, and when he allowed you to help? Gosh it only made you fall deeper for the man.

“Childe stop! You’re gonna make a mess and I’m not going to clean it up!” Currently, your boyfriend was throwing flour at you since he had proposed to make a cake. Now he has turned this into a food fight (with only him fighting). “Don’t say that [name], you know you love it when I’m messy baby.” He now had you on the kitchen counter, with him in between your legs as his tried to grab your face with his hands covered in flour. You only groaned as he managed to grab your face, your face now contained flour due to the man in-front of you. “I don’t even know why I agreed to this.” “Because you love having fun with me.” He said that as he looked deep into your eyes, a smirk now on his face.

Yet you had your own little plan, before he knew it you had grabbed a bag of flour and threw it all over him. This caused Childe to gasp out loud with you laughing like crazy. He opened his eyes with a slight annoyance until he saw you laughing. God. He loved the look on your face as you smiled and laughed so brightly. He stared at you in awe, then chuckled. “I admit you got me babe, but two can play that game.”

Who ever thought the Diluc would spoil someone to the brim? I mean yeah he had the money obviously, yet many never viewed him as one to show affection much. Unless it was you. Diluc was never the best with his emotions, or words, so with you he wanted a way to show you how he cared for you. Which would be with giving you items that he had put thought into. Unlike some, Diluc would wait until the perfect moment to gift you anything. He wanted it to show his thought and what he felt right in the moment with you.

Everything about it was romantic to the brim. You knew deep down diluc alway loved to be romantic with you, also because of how you would stare at awe of everything that he has planned. “Diluc it’s beautiful,” the scene was right out of a dream, the platter of food laying on on the long table with the room being covered in roses that reminded you of your lovers hair, fairy lights that made the place seem more intimate and cozy. It was perfect.

“If it’s for you, then I’ll make sure it’s beautiful.” God the way his words affect you, it’s insane what he does to you. “Somehow you seem to out do yourself, Luc.” You looked back at him, flashing him with the grin on your face. Now it was his turn to be flustered. Diluc loved that warm smile of yours that he fell in love with. You two shared the same passion in your eyes, looking at one another passionately.

Your lover had stepped forward, in order to get closer to you. “You flatter me too much [name]. Like it’s said, it’s you who deserves this.” He pulled you in by the waist, giving you a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you [name].” “And I to you diluc” he grabbed your hand, leading you to the table for the two of you to enjoy the dinner he has planned. Little did you know he had another surprise awaiting you in a small box he had in his pocket.

Your boyfriend always had a knack for surprising you, bad or good, Heizou always found a way. So it was odd when you found a trial of sticky notes leading towards the door of your room. None had anything written on it, only the one placed on your nightstand. “Good morning love! When you wake up, make sure to follow the trail that I set up. Then, continue with what is it to come.” At the very bottom, was the name of your boyfriend and next to it, and winking face.

After each sticky note, it would give you a new direction or place to go next. First, was the breakfast after you had awoken. The breakfast made by the one and only, heizou. Once that was done, the sticky note then instructed you to go over to the city and do your daily errands, he has said what place to head to and in what order. Whenever you got to that destination, you were immediately greeted by a staff member and given a bag. When you looked inside, you would find things that you remember telling heizou that you had wanted. So this is what he planned.

By the last sticky note you had gotten, the sun was starting to set and the moon was soon to come. You were instructed to go to Chinju forest to see your final surprise for the day. Once you got there, you saw the one who masterminded this whole plan. “You’re here! Welcome, come, let me get those for you babe.” You laughed as heizou grabbed all the bags and set them next to what seemed to be a blanket laying on the ground. It looked like it held a basket of food and goodies. He had more gifts for you.

“What’s this all about Mr.detective?” You questioned but it’s not like you didn’t appreciate what Heizou had done. “Cmon, can’t I have some fun surprising you [name]? You have to admit, it is cool the way I had set this up. Thought of this all by myself, just for you babe.” You looked away, heizou grew a grin on his face. That’s when he grabbed your hand and dragged you over to the blanket that you saw when you got here. “Look, isn’t it amazing? Especially when the sun sets the view is ten times more amazing is it not?” He wasn’t wrong, it was beautiful. “Did you plan a date for us?”

“Of course I did! It’s been a while since we’ve had time to ourselves. So I wanted to spoil my favorite girl. Enjoy yourself pretty girl.”

477 notes · View notes

ppnuggie · 6 months

Note

can you do a haedcanon of a fem human just drinking SO MUCH COFFEE like cup after cup an she is litery shaking in her seat her entire body is like a maraca an she she swerves bar so can u do headcanons for this for first aid, perceptor, brainstorm, chromdome an cyclones just teacting to this madness

　　　　　　LOST LIGHT x fem reader

　　　　『　first aid ,, brainstorm ,, perceptor ,, chromedome ,, cyclonus ,, female reader 』

　　-> reader who drinks too much coffee and gets really hyper

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, crack ,, magnus is forever suffering

　　— here you go !! :3 tysm for requesting !! tried to make it funny 🫡 hope you enjoy it <3 i loved writing this one but be warned as i dont drink coffee nor rlly know much for the side effects or smt from drinking it 😭😭 even though im literally working at dunkin rn and they only rlly got coffee

- first aid

| • he'd be worried at first with the amount of coffee you've consumed ,, having learned about humans and other things concerning them incase of an emergency

| • in this case ,, itd seem the knowledge he learned wasnt too helpful

| • bouncing all around the medbay and just hyper in general was quite a pain for first aid to deal with

| • but he didnt want to be too rude to you ,, and gently coaxed you into spending all that energy of yours running laps around the edge of the medlab where you wouldnt get too hurt

| • though when you finally wear it off ,, he'll be quick to scold you ,, holding his digit in front of your face and waving it side to side in a 'no no' motion before taking you to his habsuite and laying you down for a nap

- brainstorm

| • he honestly doesnt know better okay ? you could tell him anything and suddenly he wants to put it to the test

| • so when you said you could drink a bunch of cups of coffee and wouldnt bat an eye ,, he was immediately like bet and then that led to the current situation

| • perceptor is facepalming and immediately making brainstorm take blame for encouraging you to do this ,, because now theres a hyperactive human running around the lab

| • i mean you're practically flying around with how much coffee youve drank ,, hell you could probably beat blurr in a race

| • official you wouldnt say that out loud because lord knows some of his fans to be a bit crazy and would immediately be on your case saying "no you wouldn't !!" and maybe a few death threats involved as well

| • dont mention it in front of brainstorm either because hes already calling blurr to set you up for a race

| • hes no help ,, dont ever tell him your ideas or encourage his crazy ideas unless you wanna end up in magnus's office ,, having him scold you like a dad does to their child who drew on the walls and is trying not to laugh at the situation

- perceptor

| • thanks to brainstorm ,, you chugged too much coffee than your body ever really needed ,, and with perceptor as your not-so-official-but-official-in-his-mind-protector-slash-guardian-slash-alien-robot-boyfriend-slash-fun-killer he just sighs and takes you out the lab

| • he doesnt have the patience to deal with any acidic spills from you bouncing off the walls left and right

| • nor does he really need you getting hurt in any way shape or form

| • lets just say its an awkward trip to the medbay to see if ratchet has anything to help with your situation

| • and when he comes up empty handed ,, percy resorts to scolding you whilst the caffeine starts to wear off

| • it taught you better than to listen to brainstorm again because bro was yapping at 100 words per minute you swore he couldve talked faster than blurr at that point

| • bro was an absolute chatterbox just yapping and yapping that you fell asleep

| • never again would you do that ,, or think about doing that because the headache afterwards when you woke up was so not worth it

- chromedome

| • he also doesnt know any better ,, but he's definitely more responsible than brainstorm is

| • he'd know to at least keep a lot of caffeine or high sugar products out of your reach ,, just hiding it on your top shelves or above your cabinets like parents do with their kids' halloween candy

| • though when you accidentally made too much coffee ,, and didnt really feel like wasting it ,, you drank it all in one go ,, or well multiple big ass gulps

| • and then rewind walks in on the scene and sees how hyper you are and is honestly thinking youre sick with some make-a-person-crazy-illness-virus-disease-thing that he swears is somewhere in his database

| • and now chromedome has to play dad and parent you the whole time

| • bro probably put your ass on a leash ,, locking it in so the rope only goes so far and just stands there as you run around

| • this is what he gets ,, he thinks to himself ,, its the last time hes putting something so low in your reach again

| • at this point ,, hes just gonna store all your unhealthy and junk food away in a desk in his habsuite

| • he'll leave you fruit and vegetables but if you want coffee ever again youre gonna have to behave really good to get it

| • and its only a spoonful ,, as a little treat

- cyclonus

| • so you just trying to show and answer tailgates crazy ass questions that youre not even sure where he got them from

| • he probably got them from his ass at this point ,, asking if the coffee gives you super powers and you have to explain thats not true before he spreads lies around

| • and if that happened ,, you shivered at the thought of magnus banning your coffee aboard the lost light

| • that was pure trauma to even think about right there

| • anyways you made too much ,, and instead of storing it away or pouring it down the drain ,, tailgate dared you to drink it all

| • and well ,, momma aint raise no pussy but she did raise someone who makes bad decisions

| • because the moment you get your spurge of energy tailgate runs to cyclonus and tells him all about it

| • bros going on and on about how youve lost your mind and he thinks youre gonna die and cyclonus had like 600 heart attacks right then and there

| • he busts in like hes the damn swat team ,, door kicked down and pieces of it flying everywhere as you're running around like a wild banshee

| • he's looking for the demon and meanwhile youre out here acting like a damn demon ,, almost frothing at the mouth from how insane you are from the coffee

| • lets just say it makes magnus ban tailgate from ever daring you to do anything ,, bans you from having your coffee ,, and bans cyclonus for ever kicking down a door like that ever again because it was so unnecessary

210 notes · View notes

megistusdiary · 1 year

Note

mm titfuck with scaramouche? <33 he’s had a rough day, you’re willing to help him out! ^^

— 💌

i might be the flattest person alive but i can appreciate a good titfuck 🙏

also i am so sorry for vanishing i have been so busy with school and home stuff, and i wanted to write over fall break, but i was with my bf basically every waking moment and had no time ;w;

anyways i just registered for spring semester and it is looking like an actual nightmare rn but i did it to myself to save gas money 👍

anyways... scaramouche is a harbinger in this fic and theres a shit ton of useless plot!

warnings: switch!scaramouche and switch!fem anatomy/pronouns reader

scara fucks your tits 🧚‍♀️, exhausted but bitchy scara, consent check, oil as lube, scara calls you 'good girl'

scaramouche sighed, throwing his bag to the floor and dumping his hat onto the table.

the noise startled you from your accidental evening nap, jolting upwards to see scaramouche turning on the lights in your home.

his hair was slightly ruffled from where his hat rested atop his head, eyes half-lidded as he walked towards you.

"oh...i didn't realize you were there." was all he said as you rubbed your eyes, moving to stand up.

"i guess i fell asleep on the couch after i got home." you shrugged, folding up the blankets around you. "how was work?"

scaramouche once again sighed, sinking into the couch cushions, leaning back to let his head hang off the edge. "shitty."

"i'm sorry to hear that." you frowned as he swung his head in your direction, sighing yet again. "is there anything i can do to make you feel better?"

he let out a grunt, folding his arms over his chest. "unless you can make the rest of my...coworkers," his fingers coming up to act as quotation marks when he spoke, "get off my back, then no, i don't think so."

"what about some tea? i picked up your favorite on my way home." you offered, lips quirking up when he finally perked up a little. "stay here, i'll go heat some water up."

as you moved to stand, he grabbed your wrist, tugging at your arm. "what-"

"wait." scaramouche grumbled to himself, digging in his pocket with his free hand before pulling a bracelet out, holding it in his palm.

"scaramouche-"

"ugh, don't even ask. it's for you, i would never wear something so ridiculous. as incessant as he is, pantalone has an eye for jewelry. he helped me pick it out."

"you didn't have to do that for me." your face felt warm as he gently turned your wrist to clasp the bracelet, letting you feel the cool metal against your skin.

his touch lingered for a moment, fingertips trailing across your palm before retreating. "can't you just thank me?" scaramouche asked, turning away to hide the slight blush covering his cheeks as you smiled.

you leaned down, gently pressing a kiss to his cheek, smiling against his skin. "thank you, it's very beautiful." you walked off towards the kitchen, feeling giddy as you pulled the kettle out to set it on the stove.

it was a gift from childe, another one of scaramouche's coworkers whom he detested for his overeager disposition.

you recounted him being a very sweet gentleman, presenting you with the kettle when you first visited snezhnaya. though, the kettle itself was from liyue, 'a gift from a friend to a friend,' as childe put it.

it was a beautiful gold shade with trees painted along the sides, and it shone in the light of the kitchen as it slowly started to boil.

you left the pot briefly to pick out a tea set to match the kettle, opting to choose scaramouche's favorite cups. he had said before he didn't care about such useless things, though you could see the little sparkle in his eyes whenever you brought out the hand-painted forest tea set.

once the water was ready, you took great care in steeping the tea leaves to the perfect color in scaramouche's cup. you added the perfect amount of sugar as well. despite his words of saying he preferred his tea bitter, you knew he really loved sweets secretly.

you carefully set everything on the tray, bringing it over to scaramouche who looked like he was deep in thought. "what are you thinking about?"

"hm? oh, work, it's nothing." he shrugged you off, moving to sit across from you at the table as you slid him his cup. "it smells good."

"i know, i checked every bag i could find. even though it's rare to come by here, i wanted to find the perfect one."

scaramouche hid his slight smile in his cup, shaking his head as he took small sips. "i'm surprised you even remembered i liked this specific brew. it's been a long time since we had tea in liyue."

"of course i remembered." you scoffed, looking over at him with a cheeky grin. "you bought the whole stock when you thought i wasn't looking."

scaramouche rolled his eyes, setting his cup down in favor of resting his chin on his hand. "maybe you're more perceptive than i thought."

"oh please, don't even. if you thought i was dumb, you wouldn't have spared me another glance." you stated, setting your own cup down as you clasped your hands in front of you. "maybe you're just surprised you're not as slick as you thought you were."

"you should watch your tongue." was all he said, narrowing his eyes.

"what are you gonna do? bite it off?"

"i bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" scaramouche watched you finally turn away, relishing in the delight of flustering you.

"what happened to being all tired from work?" you asked him, watching as he drummed his fingers along the edge of the table rhythmically.

"i'm not tired, just pissed off."

"well, why don't you let me make you feel better." you slowly leaned towards him, cupping his face with one of your hands.

his hand came up instinctively to cradle yours, meeting your gaze with his own intrigued one. "what exactly did you have in mind? it better be good."

you bit back your laughter, standing up and moving behind his chair. you leaned down, letting your chest press against his back as your breath ghosted over the shell of his ear. "why don't you let me surprise you, hm?" you smirked softly as he shivered, turning his head to grip your chin firmly.

"well, don't keep me waiting then." he pulled his chair out, allowing you to take his hand and lead him to the bedroom, forgetting the tea on the table as you pushed him to sit on the bed near the headboard.

you cafefully crawled into his lap, leaning up to kiss him before he stopped you with a single finger pressed to your lips. "what is it?" you asked, muffled by the digit.

"do you want to do this? if you're tired, it's fine. you don't have to, you know." that was his way of checking in on you, making sure you were okay.

"my surprise is all about you, don't worry." you smiled, pressing a kiss to the tip of his finger. "you can repay me some other time." you grinned up at him cheekily as he grunted, moving his hand to let you kiss him properly.

as you pressed your lips to his, your hands traveled down to his waistband, playing with the ties as he inhaled sharply through his nose.

you carefully pulled the fabric down, feeling his happy trail against your hand as his cock sprung free against his stomach. you smiled as you moved down his body, pressing a small kiss to his tip and watching his dick twitch.

you scooted off the bed to grab the bottle of oil from the nightstand, pouring some onto your hand and rubbing it between your fingers before wrapping your hand around the base of his cock.

"fuck-" he sighed, letting his head lean back against the headboard as you played with him. you moved your hand up and down, twisting gently and running your thumb over the slit.

his eyes opened, narrowing at you when you pulled away. before he could object you moved his hands to the hem of your shirt. "help me get this off." you asked, feeling him slowly peel your shirt off. "the bra too."

he flung your shirt off to the side, reaching behind you and fumbling for the clasp of your bra, pulling it off of you and allowing it to fall to the floor. when he reached for your pants, you shook your head, sliding back down.

"i told you, this is a surprise for you." you moved to press his dick against your chest, rubbing against his dick as he watched with wide eyes.

"come on, don't tease me." he warned you, sounding ever-so-slightly breathless. you obliged, pressing his dick between your breasts as he sighed, feeling the tightness pressing around him.

you pushed your hands on the sides of your chest, pushing your breasts together and moving your body up and down. "does that feel good?" you smiled up at him as his thighs tensed, hands gripping the bedsheets.

"more, faster-" he whined at you, losing his composure. your body pressed into him more, leaning your weight onto his legs.

his hips moved on their own, hands coming to grip your shoulders and head as he fucked your tits at his own pace, moving you at his leisure. he grunted quietly, explicatives spilling from his lips as your chest became covered in oil and slick from his dick, coating your skin.

"good girl, good girl..." he sighed, moving his hips faster, feeling you press your breasts against him tighter until he let out a gasp, arching his back and coming hard.

his release shot up against your chin and neck, coating you in white as he slowly leaned back against the bed, hair stuck to his skin with sweat.

you pulled yourself up, laying on the bed with him for a moment before he wrinkled his nose, pulling your hand. "the bracelet has cum on it."

"it's from your own dick, and-"

"this is gross. we're showering."

#scaramouche x you #scaramouche smut #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #💌─ 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 ✧.*#✎─𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 ❛ ༉‧₊˚#💌─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭! ༊*·˚

1K notes · View notes

the-phantom-author · 10 months

Text

Harry Lewis | General Dating Headcanons

Some W2S stuff. Will I do more for him, maybe. Request are open!

Probability meet through some interest or activity. As Simon said, Harry is one of the only Sidemen who actually has hobbies. So I can definitely see you meeting him through that and being in the weird “what are we” stage where you two are seeing each other while doing without doing the activity that you meet through.

It’s to the point that yeah, you know all his friends, and he knows yours, and you do plan things together so you can have time to spend where it’s just you two, but you’re totally not dating. Heaven forgive anyone who implies that you are, because no, that would be odd, that’s not what you two are. Nope.

Harry’s an awkward guy, we know that. It does not matter that you are seeing each other, he is still going to be awkward. It’s going to last for a while as well. He needs to know that you are comfortable; with both him and affection in general. You’ll probably need to actually tell him.

WIth that said, once he knows that you're comfortable with affection, he becomes that most attached person, behind doors. Man is weird about public affection, you won’t be able to convince him to do more than hold your unless he’s drunk. But in private, the biggest fan of cuddling and napping together.

Cooking together. Do we remember his cooking streams? W2S Cooking Show, I miss it. But helping him cook and whatnot. Closing the cabinets when he leaves them opens, please organize his kitchen. I can’t stop thinking about what the kitchen set up was like when he lived with the Cals, with things just everywhere, the silverware in the cabinet.

A lot of inside dates. Cooking together, convincing him to watch movies with you (even if he doesn’t actually watches them and just picks and pokes at you), doing arts and crafts together,Just doing simple things kept between the two of you.

I can also bathing together becoming a common thing, as we know this man likes his showers, he take one every time he poops. So I can see him joining you every so often, washing your hair and whatnot.

Harry’s not the best when it comes to wording things. Istead he shows his appreciation and love though doing things with and for you. Like he’d be your biggest supporter, if you want to learn a new skill or hobby, he bo so willing to learn it with you. Like if you take an art class or something, the next time you see him he’ll be wanting to know everything, or if you get into yoga or something he’ll want you to teach him. He treats your interest with the same amount of respect that he would want you to treat him.

Stare at him. Do it, he’ll get flustered. He’ll stutter out a little “What are doing” tell him he pretty, or just compliment him in general, he’ll go red and “Oh, o-okay” in a really small voice and try to hide his face in his shirt or mug or something.

Also vacationing and taking trips and whatnots. He’d take you with him whenever he can on non-work related trips. Having set things that the two of you want to do, but ended up getting side tracked and just exploring. Or going on a holiday while the guys and ending up getting a tour of a prison or abandoned factory some other random thing.

You do have to act as a live action censor. Harry likes to say polarizing things in his attempt to be funny, and while it usually is funny in context, sometimes it doesn’t come off best to strangers. So you do tend to take notice of when he goes quiet for a bit too long and see that he has his thinking face on, you do take it upon yourself to just listen to the first part of his joke to just be ready to stop him if it might go a bit far.

Ultimately he’s a very soft guy, and it’d be a very soft relationship.

#harry Lewis #w2s #w2s x reader #wroetoshaw x reader #wroetoshaw #sidemen #harry lewis x reader #also this man has arms #arms for days

294 notes · View notes

bullet-clubs-bitch · 7 months

Text

The Best Present

An: Today is Kenny’s birthday so of course I had to write something!

(Kenny Is referred to as Tyson)

Summary: Spending Tyson’s 40th birthday with fem reader and their 1 year old daughter Violet!

Word count: 682

Tyson hated his birthday. Every year was the same, he didn’t want a party but I would convince him and of course he would have a good time. This year however was a special year, this year Tyson would be turning 40 and I knew that terrified him. I tried to plan a big party with all of our friends and family but of course Ty hated the idea. So we would celebrate his big day with just the two of us and our one year old daughter Violet until Wednesday when we would go out to dinner after dynamite with friends to celebrate.

I didn’t quite understand why he didn’t like to celebrate his birthday, I know most people don’t like their birthday but Tyson was different. It was almost like he was embarrassed of it.

I woke up bright and early and started working on a cake for Ty. His only request each year was for me to make him a german chocolate cake and let him sleep in. This would mark the 10th german chocolate cake I would make for his special day and each year it seemed to get more special. Tyson claimed to love my cake, I thought he was just lying at first, since my baking skills can be questionable at times but 10 years of the exact same cake would say otherwise. Unless he is just extremely committed to the lie.

After I put the cake in the oven I decided to make a nice breakfast as I waited for Tyson to wake up. As if on cue, he came downstairs right as I finished setting the table. You could tell that he was exhausted but nonetheless he still looked just as handsome.

“Good morning birthday boy!” I said in a gentle tone, embracing him in a hug

“Good morning” He replied half asleep. “Did you do this for me?” Tyson asked, looking towards the feast laid out on the table.

“Of course, anything for you my love” I said as I placed a kiss on his cheek. I turned to grab a fresh cup of coffee to give Tyson but it was almost like he vanished into thin air. Not thinking too much about it, I went back to preparing things in the kitchen until I heard noise coming from the baby monitor. I quickly realized that it was Tyson, who seemed to be talking with Violet.

“Hi, my angel. I hope you had an amazing sleep” Everynow and then I would catch Ty talking with Violet and it always made me smile. Just then I heard Violet say “Birthday”, it wasn’t perfect but she definitely said it. I was internally high fiving myself, I had spent weeks trying to teach her the word for Tyson’s big day.

“Yeah, it is my birthday. You are so smart Violet” I could hear his voice crack a bit as he spoke.

“I must say you are the best present. I wish I had you years ago, I don’t know what I would have done without you Violet” I could hear his voice start to tremble as he spoke and I could feel my throat start to get dry.

“Come on Violet, let’s go see Mom before she starts to wonder where we are” I could hear them start to make their way back to the kitchen so I ran back to the table, pretending that I didn’t hear the whole conversation.

“There you are, good morning Violet!” I said as I approached the pair, giving them both a hug and kiss. “Who’s ready for some breakfast?” I asked as I took Violet from Tyson, putting her in her high chair.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you” Tyson said, as he held me in a tight embrace

“For what?” I asked, playing dumb

“For everything, I really don’t deserve any of this”

“Yes you do, stop saying that alright. I love you so much, okay. Like a ridiculously amount alright. And I will continue to love you for the rest of my life Tyson!”

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I want to have another baby with you”

“What?”

#bullet clubs bitch #aew smut #all elite wrestling #aew #aew fanfiction #the elite #kenny omega #kenny omega x reader #kenny omega imagine #kenny omega fanfiction #kenny the cleaner #kenny omega fluff #kenny x reader #kenny omega smut #kenny omega aew #kenny omega masterlist

152 notes · View notes