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moominsuki · 1 year

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✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — bakugou hates feeling jealous. but you make it worthwhile.

࿄ ! warnings — f!reader. absolutely none. sfw. / note. katsuki is a cutie patootie.

jealous bakugou is something else. he doesn’t think he’s all that possessive of you at all - he doesn’t care if your outfit is skimpy or if you have guy friends. bakugou regards himself as very secure in his relationship with you.

until he hears what guys have to say about you. then he gets a little crazy.

it’s an open day where he’s helping a group of lackies and hero interns with integrating into his agency and it’s pretty innocent at first. kiri and deku are doing most of the heavy lifting with talking with the prospective sidekicks and heroes (katsuki is very content with the extras he has already). he’s already kind of distracted by seeing you this morning - you offered to lift a hand and do some extra work around his agency for today due to the unusual amount of people scoping his place out and why would he pass on an offer to see you around his agency all day?

unfortunately for katsuki, it means that he’s being increasingly more distant than he usually is and the interns can feel the disgusted energy emitting from every fibre in his body. it’s not like he’s trying to hide it though - what a waste to have you come to his workplace and only catch glimpses of your hair and your scent.

“kacch- dynamight? what do you look for in a sidekick who wants to potentially join this agency,” asks izuku, pulling his friend out of his thoughts. katsuki looks at the crowd of young, probably high school kids and they basically cower under his gaze. he recognises a few of them from other, unimportant events he can’t seem to specifically recall. god, he wants to bite back at them but he shrugs in annoyance.

“don’t piss me off and do as you’re told. simple as but it seems like you lot would still f-”, deku quickly interjects katsuki and yells out, “okay! let’s take a quick 10 minute break! just have a look around and we’re free if you have any questions you want to ask!”

ᝰᝰᝰᝰᝰ

“what is with you today, kacchan? you’re more… insolent than usual,” asks izuku slowly, watching the expression on his blond’s face meld into a face of indifference.

“maybe it’s the fact that i don’t care about these idiots who’re just making a goddamn mess of the place. i don’t need more extras to fuck shit up f’me,” bakugou grumbles. kirishima pats his moody friends on the back and goes to speak when-

“well at least the rumours about dynamight are true. that guy is a fucking mood killer,” says some guy standing in the corner of the reception area, who looks to be a sidekick and is accompanied by other unknown up and coming ‘extras’ as Katsuki woukd put it.

“tell me about it. the guys here fucking suck. for once, i’m wishing that we were stuck with the female pros instead. have you seen uravity? she’s sexier in real life,” pipes up some other guy and the rest holler and hoot.

the three pros look at each other, with bakugou looking at kirishima and deku with knowing, smug eyes.

“i’m just going to interrupt their conversation-” says kirishima, attempting to walk over until another lackey pipes up.

“but have you seen y/h/n? what a woman. shame she’s not in her hero suit. what i would do for a woman like that,” grunts some pathetic looking guy. he’s spindly and limp and looks akin to a wet noodle.

it doesn’t stop katsuki from seething though.

kirishima and izuku slowly turn to look at their friend - who’s practically steaming in his hero uniform. all katsuki can see is red and violence - which isn’t really unlike from what he normally sees but it’s different this time. this time it’s about you.

he sees the group of gross, teenage boys point to where you’re standing: you’re leaning over the receptionist desk and just from the behind can katsuki appreciate how beautiful you are. you’re wearing a short black turtleneck dress with orange accents (you told him that you wanted to wear his colours to his agency) and in any other setting would katsuki run his hands over you and compliment and kiss you till you were shying away from him.

bakugou knew that you got unwanted attention, regardless if he was standing by you like a rabid guard dog - you were gorgeous and you knew that. he also knew that you could hold your own against a hoard of horny teenage losers and you would never look twice at them when you had him. still, that logic went out the window when he could see the same group of kids leering and pointing at where your thighs met the bottom of your dress and he wanted to kill them.

kirishima got wind of this just by looking at the blond’s expression, “please don’t blow up the place - they’re just dumb kids! think about how hard we worked for this agency,” pleads kirishima.

“he’s too far gone,” izuku sadly laments as they watch bakugou stride on over to you and ignore both the men’s pleas and bargains. he aggressively pushes past the disgusting collective of eyes and they break apart in shock at his intrusion through them.

you’re, however, too enamoured in your conversation with his assistant and mina- you’re looking at a pinterest board and he wants to bite you for being so cute in front of everyone. it makes him even angrier that those extras would ever think that you would give them more than a side eye and a polite wave.

you feel katsuki before you see him - his uniform-clad arm holds your waist between the desk as he slots himself into your conversation.

“so what’s this about? whatcha talking about?” katsuki asks and mina and his assistant giggle at his intrusion while you roll your eyes and turn yourself sideways to look at him.

“i would tell you but mina and akako might kill me,” you tell your boyfriend, resting a manicured hand on his chest. akako, bakugou’s assistant, laughs and nods her head:

“sorry, dynamight, our conversations are sacred. might i add your timetable tells me that you’re due to take the interns on a practice patrol in less than… 20 minutes?”

katsuki narrows his eyes at this and you chastise akako for poking at him, “leave him alone! i want him here,” before resting a hand on his stubbled jaw and scratching at his face. katsuki’s eyes close at the sensation and he opens them to take a good look at your face. the stupid kids are still a embittering thought in the back of his mind and in any given situation, he would never do this. but sometimes bakugou’s heart goes against his common sense and this was one of those times.

he leans down to slots his lips over yours and presses a gloved hand into the small of your back and you smile into the kiss while a few “awwhs,” emit in the background. bakugou opens an eye slightly to see in his peripheral vision that the gaggle of the limp-faced sidekicks are looking at him in a mixture of shock and fear and embarrassment. he also sees kirishima and izuku grab them up to guide them out of the room.

when you break from the kiss to brush at the hair on the nape of his head, he mumbles, “have i told you how much i love that dress on you?”

you giggle a little and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth, “a few times. but you can keep telling me if you want. ‘s not like i’ll get tired of hearing it,” you whisper to him and it’s like you’re the only people in the room. he’ll tell you about what spurned this on another day. in the meanwhile, he bask in your attention until he has to go and entertain those useless jerks. it’s not like he’s going to employ any of them.

bakugou would say this is a mission accomplished in his book. yeah, he’s a little jealous and possessive. but with the way you look at him, he finds himself caring less and less about what others have to say about you.

doesn’t mean he won’t try knock them in the side of their head if the time calls for it.

#katsuki is so cute when he’s jealous i love him #bakugo x reader #not proofread at all mb y’all #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki fluff #bakugou x reader #i like writing now if you guys couldn’t tell #bakugou katsuki #༝˚૮ .♡ katsuki.#✎𓂃stamped: (my hero academia)。°˖⌕

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discopaddock · 9 months

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ALL ABOUT THAT NOSE - DANIEL RICCIARDO

PAIRING: dad!daniel ricciardo x fem!mum!reader

WORDS: 1,9k+

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: baby's crying, max and lando being silly boys

Daniel Ricciardo was like a good wine - if he was getting older, he was looking better.

That was something that Y/N L/N knew too well. She had known Daniel since she was 16 years old.

The woman remembered too well the moment when they met. It was summer break before girl's second class in high school when the L/N family was in Perth to meet the wealthy aunt.

“Oh my, I'm so sorry” the young girl gasped, when she collided with a taller boy. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know if she was going to cry or she was just going to throw up, because she had gotten into a fight with her father, then ran away from aunt's house without phone and got lost in Perth.

“It's okay, no need to worry" was said in a cheerful voice. “I'm Daniel, by the way” a black haired boy said with a large smile on his face.

“My name is Y/N” “Then, it's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N” he spoke, making L/N cry. “Why? What? No crying! Stop crying, please!” Daniel started calming her down due to the fact he had no idea what to do. “There's no need to cry, Y/N” he told her slowly but she started to cry even worse. “What happened?” he asked finally, after getting her to sit on a bench.

“I got lost,” she answered with a tiny voice. Daniel felt sorry for the girl.

“You're not from here, are you?” the boy questioned while getting a seat next to her. “No, I'm from Canberra actually” she said, making Ricciardo raise his eyebrow.

“From Canberra? Are you related to Mrs. Elodie Fanning?”

“Um, yes. She's my aunt” she told him, trying to wipe her tears.

“Great then! I live in a house next to her! I'll walk you there, Y/N” he announced, getting up from the bench.

“Thank you” she said and the boy only smiled at her. Next he trip over shoe laces and almost fell down.

“Ow, sorry, miss Y/N” he laughed and walked her home.

And after that day, they stayed in touch. For the rest of their lives.

Y/N was his biggest fan and supporter. She supported him in his rights and wrongs.

Daniel was also her biggest supporter and fan. He was for her every time, when she got a new role in some film or theatre play, same as her - she was trying her best to be at his every race or just watch them on TV.

It was pretty hard for her, because she wasn't so wealthy, her parents neither, but when aunt Eloide heard about her relationship with Ricciardo, she gave her some money for travelling.

And they were here, in the car on their way to the hospital.

“I know you can stand it for just a moment, love,” the man said, looking at his wife, who was holding her belly, where was the cause of her pain.

“Daniel, faster, because I'm about to give birth to him in this car, for fucks sake” she said and Ricciardo only pressed the gas pedal even harder. this car.

“We're here, little frog” he announced after two minutes, and quickly got out of his newest Ferrari.

“Don't call me like that!” she screamed.

He helped his beautiful woman get out of the car, and then walked her to the reception, where the nurses gave her a wheelchair and took her to the operating room, leaving Daniel alone.

“First kid?” asked one of the nurses, while the one was helping Y/N to breathe. “Yes, my husband is freaking out,” the woman answered. “He says all the time that Otto must have had my nose, because mine looks better than his. I'm hoping that it will be true either”

The nurses laughed, and then Y/N felt another cramp. They started to appear an hour ago, and then they were systematic, appearing every two minutes.

After ten hours of painful labour, Daniel could finally meet with his exhausted wife and sleepy son.

“You did so amazing, baby,” he said to the woman, before kissing her forehead. “I couldn't be more proud of you my love” Daniel added, watching her feeding the newborn baby.

“Thanks, Dan. He's like two hours old and yet he has your Ric Energy” she said with a tiny voice, making the man laugh.

“He's a Ricciardo, isn't he?”

“He is, definitely”

“He's such a beautiful boy,” said Anna, Y/N's mother, looking at her smiling grandson.

“He's my son, of course he's beautiful,” Daniel joked, making everyone in the living room laugh.

“It's mostly because he has got my nose, not his” was said by the actress, which made Ricciardo roll his brown eyes. “Don't even do that again, Daniel. It was you who wanted him to have my nose” she added and then took a seat on her husband's lap.

First time when Y/N and Daniel had shown up at the paddock was totally different than all the previous times, even if the woman had shown there with a pregnant belly.

“Where's the kid?” was said by Lando and Max and it was the first thing that the couple heard, when they entered the Red Bull's hospitality.

“At home, he's four weeks old, what did you expect?” Daniel asked with raised eyebrows.

“We wanted to meet him! Everyone wanted it!” Max answered, making the couple laugh. “It's not our fault, that you don't want anyone in your house since he was born”

“And that's why none of you is his godfather” Ricciardo said, making his friends go away.

“Don't talk to us ever again!” was screamed by Lando, which made Y/N laugh. “It's about you too, Y/N!” Max added.

“I love them,” the woman started, when they took seats on the couch in Daniel's room. “but they are more like our kids. I wouldn't let none of them to be Otto's godfather” “Me either, love”

“So who is the godfather?” Verstappen asked, while his and Norris' heads were sticking out of the door.

“Timothée” Dan said shortly and after that both drivers entered the room. “What?!” Lando and Max were shocked.

“What what? He's a nice guy after all, not like you two” Dan joked. He was laughing at his friends. They were cute actually.

“What about godmother? Who is she?”

“Oh, we don't know yet” Mrs. Ricciardo said, shrugging. “We'll tell you both, when we find an ideal person, don't worry” she announced and sent them kisses, which also did Daniel. “Now bye bye, you both are needed. Bye!” Ricciardo led them out the door and again sat near to his wife. In next three hours he gave an interview, that melted everyone's heart.

“Thank you, Y/N, for these amazing fifteen years that you spent with me. Thank you for your support and that you had never despaired in me. And then thank you for our son, who you just gave birth to a month ago, I couldn't be more proud of anyone in this world than you. I also wanted to thank you for saying yes to me twelve years ago. I loved you then, I love you right now, and I will love until my death. Thank you for everything” Daniel ended his monologue and started looking for his beloved wife, who was crying because of his words.

“I love you endlessly, Dan,” she whispered, when they hugged. “And I love you, dolly” he replied with his biggest and prettiest smile on face. “You're crying again” he laughed, starting wiping the tears. “Just like on the first day, right?” she joked. “Yep, just like then” he said, kissing her nose after. “I want to see all of these photos that they took. We should have one of them at home” the woman said quietly to his ear, making his smile even bigger. “Yes, we definitely should”

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f1 “(...) I loved you then, I love you right now, and I will love until my death. Thank you for everything”

That's just a short piece of @ danielricciardo's monologue. Watch it all on formula1.com.

4517 comments

charles_leclerc My favourite couple on the grid!❤️

↑ charles_lecat omg charles this is soo cute!!!!

yourusername and i love him endlessly since i was sixteen and i will love him till death do us part.

↑ danielricciardo 🥲❤️

↑ danandyn @yourusermane ur both were made for each other 🥺🥺🥺

lewishamilton and I still remember this little danny who was asking everybody on the paddock if they had met his beautiful girlfriend in 2011

↑ f1wags NO WAY HE DID THAT

↑ dr3love omg hes too much😭😭😭

tchalamet my beloved parents idc

↑ tchalametdaily WELL HELLO THERE T

↑ liochalamet cant believe ur commenting on f1 post timo

landonorris I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE HEART 💓 💓💓

↑ carlossainz55 Honestly same Lando😊

maxverstappen1 My favourite couple in the world, both deserve all the best ❤️‍🩹

↑ ilovef1 one time max speaking facts

sebastianvettel Ahh my favourite people, deserve the best!💝

First time the Ricciardo family showed up at the paddock was during the Austin Grand Prix. Of course Daniel was dressed as a cowboy. He just loved that GP.

Even though he wasn't participating that year.

Otto was looking everywhere from his stroller. He was looking at his papa, who was wearing a big, unknown hat and smiling.

Little guy was only three months old and was not ready yet to see his father dressed like that, so he started to cry.

“No, no, no, sweetie, no crying” Y/N started, pulling her son from the stroller. She hugged him and told her husband to take off his cowboy hat. “You will dress as a cowboy for Halloween instead” she announced cradling the baby in her arms.

Otto finally stopped crying, when all of them went to Daniel's room and Y/N fed him.

“We will stay here, okay Dan?” she asked, looking at the man, who was singing his son lullaby, so he could fall asleep easier. “Everything for him” he whispered, putting the sleeping boy to his stroller. “Give me a kiss” he said walking to his wife. She stood up and when he was In Front of her, she placed a kiss on his lips. “I'm so lucky that I have you. If I didn't meet you, I wouldn't be me” he announced holding her in a thigh hug.

“I'm hearing Lando's coming” she said after a while, hearing Brit's footsteps. And yeah, she was so right, because like thirty seconds later a curly haired guy entered the room. He had rosy cheeks and a huge smile on his face.

“There's my favourite boy! And his parents” he said and hugged Y/N. “It's amazing to see you. You look so good and healthy, oh my!” Lando announced, making the woman blush because of the hormones. “And you look the same as last week” he said to Daniel, who only rolled his eyes.

He finally stepped in front of the boy and started to cry.

“He- Oh- He's so pretty” Lando said with his shaky voice and tears on his face. “I can't believe that Daniel is one of the creators of this miracle,” Norris said. “The little one is too perfect”

“Oh, Landon, don't cry” Y/N hugged the younger one and rubbed his back. “We know that he is the prettiest baby on the globe, we do. It's because he has my nose, not Daniel's”

“Hey!” Ricciardo delicately slapped his wife's back.

It was always about the nose.

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danielricciardo 3 months of having you on the world little one. 3 best months of my life❤️

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lilbitdepressed27 · 4 months

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Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader

Summary:blind reader in this one Gale didn't write bad about Sam.

Warnings:…😶

WC: 5.7k

Author’s Note: happy new year y’all. Hope everyone had a good year. Also apologizes in advance for this one. Hope y’all enjoy:D

****~****

After high school you had known that the college life was also going to be hard. It took you forever to know the halls, turns and where your classes were at. It helped that you had your service dog, Scooby. According to your adoptive mom, he was a brown Chesapeake Bay Retriever. Now you had no idea what they looked like but you are positive he was cute. People always tended to gush about him where ever you took him. He had been a great help for you as you adjusted in this new city.

Your mom had been skeptical at first but she knew she had to let you go. She was very protective of you especially after your father was killed. You had been away on a school trip with your class when it had happened. You had only found out about it two days after when your mom personally came to get you from the trip. The trip had been in Alaska, it was supposed to be a two month trip but due to the attacks it was cut short.

The news had devastated you. Especially since you didn't know about it right away, cause of the no cell reception. So it was harder for your mom to reach you. You and your mother had cried for days.

She didn't know how she'd be able to let you move to New York by yourself with Scooby. She wouldn't be able to move on if she lost you or Scooby. She loved that dog, he was such a good boy. They had trained him on some simple commands to help you.

Dewey had helped you teach Scooby the commands.

So with that fear in mind, not only did she move to the city herself, she didn't have it in her to let you leave and live by yourself. But she also had called someone she hasn't spoken to as much as she wanted.

"Gale? Hey it's been awhile."

"Hello Sam, how's it going?"

"Uh pretty good we're settled in and you know Tara's worried about starting school again, she says she's not nervous but I can tell she is. How are you holding up, since you know..."

"Oh you know I'm hanging in there. I was actually calling to ask you for a favor. I completely understand if you can't. I know trust goes a long way for you."

"Gale relax, if it wasn't for you, people would still be dragging my name through the mud. What can I help you with?"

Gale leaned back in her desk chair. She tried so hard to make sure you had stayed out of her life as a reporter. Keeping you a secret from the world was surprisingly easy. Especially if there was crazy psycho trying remake a movie. Dewey and herself had agreed to keeping you a secret. Adopting you was one of her greatest things she could have done. She remembers the day she first saw you, it was a couple months after she found out that she couldn't have kids. Dewey had tried to tell her that it was okay, that they didn't need a kid to be a happy family. But she knew better, they both had wanted a baby in the family.

So they went to a foster home. And that's where they found you, a tiny little girl. You were only baby, a year old to be exact when they saw you walking around crashing into things, walking into walls. They had watched how the other older kids would ignore you. You would babble to get anyone's attention but you'd be ignored. After crashing into a wall once again, they watched how you stood back up with a smile on your face. You had a small ball in your hands but no one to play with. They didn't understand why, until you got closer. Stumbling here and there.

Your soft y/ec eyes had clear white spots in them. Even though they were warned about you, they had fallen in love with you the moment they saw you.

"I have a daughter."

"Oh what? Wow uh congratulations?"

"No I've had her for a while, she's 19." She knew Sam probably didn't believe her.

"Really? Why are you telling me this?"

Gale heard the confusion, but she couldn't follow you every where. So she needed someone to keep an eye on you. Just a safety precaution. Something that could help her keep calm. Making friends was something that didn't come easy for you. Even though you're a bright and happy kid, other people weren't. It never affected you though. Your smile always stayed. 'Life is too short for me to be butt hurt that people don't want to be my friend, I'll be fine mom.' Was something you always said.

"She has this, thing. And I was just hoping you'd kinda just be there for her. She doesn't make friends easily and I know I'm asking a lot but—Gale relax. What's her name?"

~~~~~~******~~~~~~

The day had come. You had recently moved into the studio room with the help of your mom. She had helped remind you where everything was at. Making sure you knew every corner, step, counter in the apartment. It took a while but you got it. Now you could do somethings by yourself. Like bathe (obviously), get yourself dressed (your wardrobe was filled with mostly black clothing), colored clothing was in a different drawer, cook (pb&j's, cup noddle soup, wash dishes) You weren't completely helpless. A life without vision was something you were used to.

"Okay Scooby, how do I lo-" Your phone rang, cutting you off. You turned to the direction of the phone, hearing the nails scrapes of your dog. The phone ring getting closer. You felt the nudge on your knee. Reaching down feeling the cold nose of your dog, taking the phone from him. Siri had been notifying you of who was calling. "Thanks buddy."

"Hi mom."

"Hey honey, listen I called a friend of mine her name is Sam and she's on her way to take you to class-Moom-I know I know but please just give your lady a piece of mind. I swear I'm getting more grey hair. Just please do it for me."

You sighed and nodded. "Okay mom. When is she co-" The sound of the door bell rang throughout the studio. "I thinks she's here."

***

"Wait since when does Gale have a daughter?" Tara asked confused. She had over heard Sam's call with Gale and had wanted to help Gale's daughter. Especially since they'd be going to the same college.

"I don't know, she has a daughter that's your age, lives alone with a dog, apparently doesn't know anyone here cause she just moved here and her name is Y/n. We are going to go pick her up tomorrow."

"Damn. Gale weathers kept her daughter a secret?" The younger carpenter sibling said amazed. She would have never guessed that Gale had a daughter. She had started to wonder what the girl looked like.

Now that she was kept waiting, she was left feeling just a tad bit excited to meet the girl. She wondered if she was like more like Gale or Dewey. Probably a mix of both.

"Who's there." Your hand felt around for the button next to the door. It was intercom that your mom had paid to get installed. It was the best tech that your mom could possibly find.

"Hi Y/n it's Sam, Gale sent me."

"Mom I thinks she's here, uh how do I know I can trus-You can honey, trust me. Sam is a good one."

"Okay. I love you." Your mom returned the term of endearment before hanging up. Your hands felt around for the locks on the door. Unlocking all ten of them. Once finished you opened the door.

Sam stood on the other side, her eyes widening just a bit at the sight of your eyes. Now she understood why Gale wanted someone to watch over you. Tara stood behind her sister, jaw slack as she took you in as well. She had never seen someone so beautiful. She took in your smile as you let Sam in offering your hand that Sam shook. She walked close behind her sister as she watched one of cutest dogs she's ever seen close the door behind her. Her eyes looked into yours. Most of your eye color was covered with a cloudy white color. There was still some color in there but not as much. They were still the most beautiful pair of eyes she has ever seen.

"And you are?" The question was directed to her. It was what snapped her out of her thoughts. Her face felt flushed and warm as you looked in her direction.

You had heard the other set of footsteps when you let Sam in. You could smell the different perfume the person used. It was a smell you liked, never had you smelled something so, beautiful? The person stopped in front of you. You offered a smile and held a hand out.

"T-Tara. I'm Tara Sam's sister." Tara ignored the raised eyebrow directed towards her by her sister. Her face felling hot as she shook your hand. Your hand was much bigger than hers but it was so soft and warm. She wanted to hold on to it forever.

Your ears felt blessed as you took in her voice. It was the most beautiful voice you had ever heard.

"Nice to meet you Tara. This is Scooby. I'm sorry if my mom made you guys co-Hey now we wanted to, now are you ready?" Tara reassured. She didn't want you feeling like they didn't have a choice in the matter. Tara had never been so grateful that Gale trusted them in meeting her daughter. Cause you had to be one of the most beautiful woman she's ever seen.

"Uh yea. I just need my walking stick and my backpack."

At the mention of the backpack the two sisters watched as the dog scurried away towards the living room. Retrieving your backpack from the small coffee table. He had already had his service vest on and he was ready to go. With a smile on your face you took the backpack that had your walking stick. You moved to take it out but a warm hand stopped you.

"I got you, you can hold my elbow." Tara with a blush on as you took her elbow with a smile. She ignored the pointed look from her sister once again. She felt warm all over at the feeling of your soft hand touching her skin. She lead you out the apartment while Sam locked up.

Sam watched how Tara directed where each step was at. Telling you where exactly was the button to call the elevator. Although Sam felt like you already knew where it was at. She watched as you smiled and followed Tara nevertheless. Right before leaving the apartment you had reached for your sunglasses. Covering your eyes, she saw the disappointment in her sister's eyes the second it happened.

Sam couldn't help the small smile, Tara had been different since last year's attacks. But seeing that smile on her face while she spoke to you was something she hoped to see more.

"Okay here's your music class." Tara directed you into the class, there were already some students in the class waiting for the professor to arrive. "Do you wanna sit in the front?" She touched your hand that was still holding the inside of her elbow. She looked up at you, your soft smile on display as you looked down in her direction. Seeing her reflection on your sunglasses. She wished she could see your eyes again.

"Yes please, thank you Tara. I really appreciate you helping me."

The smile she got in return felt like a reward, seeing such a beautiful smile directed her way had Tara feeing like she could just melt to the floor.

"I wanted to. Now here's your recorder, your mom said you like to go back and listen to the lessons. Here, it's the professors textbook she's using this year." Before getting to the class, they had stopped by the library. When she saw the classes you were taking, they took a little detour. Grabbing the textbooks she knew would benefit you more.

"Thank you Tara but I can't exactly see." You said with a teasing smile. Feeling her cheeks warming up, she couldn't help the chuckle that left her lips.

"I know that, but this one you'll like better. I'll see you two after class. Bye." She smiled down at Scooby who had sat on the seat right next to yours, laying his head down on the arm rest.

"We'll see you later, thanks again Tara." You smiled up towards the direction you knew she was standing at. Your heart skipping at beat when you felt her warm hand on top of yours.

"You're welcome. Now I really have to go or else I'll be late to my class."

She left the room soon after. You smiled to yourself. Remembering to call your mom to thank her. Tara sounded so...beautiful. You may be blind but just by her voice you knew she was beautiful. Tara will be a great friend to have around.

Hearing the professor walk in and announce the beginning of his lecture you hit record on your recorder. Taking the book that Tara had gotten for you. Your breath hitching in your throat when your fingers felt over the cover. It was a braille version of the textbook. Your mom had told you that they didn't have braille books for the music course you were taking. But here it was. Noted that it did feel old but nevertheless it was a book you could read. Feeling your eyes watering a bit, no one had been this nice to you, that wasn't family. To go out of their way to do something so kind. Yet Tara did.

Scooby laid his head on your arm. You smiled down at him petting his head. Maybe making friends here wouldn't be so hard.

The weeks that followed had been great for Tara. She had spent most of her days with you. Or you with her at her apartment with the rest of the gang. You and Scooby have become such a great addition to the group. Having you around the apartment had been something that she loved to see.

Since you had been her friend the amount of frat parties she had gone to have been minimum. Choosing to rather be with you and Scooby either at your apartment or hers.

Something that Sam had liked.

Sam had seen the bond between her sister and you grow. The way you with out trying brought out the girl Sam had left behind five years ago. The way Tara was around you was of someone that had no worries. Someone that hadn't gone through almost getting killed. Someone who hadn't been betrayed by someone she loved. Someone who had to kill the one she considered a lover.

Sam could also see how you were around her sister. Tara hadn't been the only one to grow attached. Seeing the way you were around Tara was almost comical. Seeing you both dance around each others feelings was funny. Sam had taken to talking to Gale more often. Telling her about how you were doing. But also about how they were doing as well. The bond between Sam and Gale had grown.

"Hey Sam, how was work?"

She had just gotten back from work to find you and Scooby sitting on the floor of the living room. The way you could just tell who the person was, just by their footsteps was something that Sam had found impressive. She had seen how Chad had tried to sneak up on you but you would always greet him before he had the chance.

"Hey Y/n, it was good what are you guys doing? Where's Tara?"

"Well I'm helping Tara with her homework, well the best I can anyway. And she's in the bathroom." You smiled in the direction of where Sam stood.

"That's good. Any one at school giving you trouble?" Sam had been told by not only the twins but also her sister how they had found a group of frat boys picking on you. Scooby had tried his best to comfort you, not only was he there to help you but he was also there to protect you. Sam had been told by Tara how they had arrived in time to see Scooby biting one of the frat boys. The one that had taken your mobility cane.

"No Scooby scares them away. That or Tara does." You joked earning a laugh from the older Carpenter.

"Good, you know if anyone is bothering you, you can tell me." Sam had been told by your mom how you used to get bullied in high school. You were a sweet kid that didn't deserve to be mistreated. It wouldn't be the first time she had scared someone just for looking at you wrong.

"I know. Thanks Sam."

"You're welcome, now I'm making dinner. Spaghetti and meatballs sound good."

"Sounds great."

You were laid on Tara's bed watching a movie you had never heard of. It was one of Tara's favorite movies. The Babadook. You weren't really into scary movies. You had loved hearing the movies your dad watched. The Marvel movies. Daredevil had always been your favorite. For obvious reasons of course. To be blind and still be able to kick ass. Now that was awesome.

But nevertheless Tara had wanted to see the movie, so now you were here. Tara laying her head on your chest as she watched her movie. You were listening in as well. Jumping a bit when a suspenseful scene happened. You didn't see it but from the music and sound effects, not to mention the tv was a bit loud.

But the more you laid there. The more you got lost. The warmth of Tara's body pressing on to you. The feeling of her head laying right above your heart. The way her hand was on your stomach, her fingers softly creasing your stomach. It was sending the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. Her legs were intertwined with yours. Your arm was also wrapped around her back holding her into place.

You weren't sure what this meant. Seeing as you never really had friends. Or cuddled with anyone. This was something you've never done before. You didn't want to over think anything. Make things weird. So you just laid there. Hoping Tara could feel what you felt. You'd ask but you didn't want to lose this friendship. You didn't want to jeopardize losing Tara.

"I can feel you thinking. What's on your mind?" Tara paused the movie to look up at you. Her chin still on your chest as you looked at you. Your glasses were off, the fairly lights, and the lights coming from the tv made your eyes shine. The small patched of y/ec were noticeable. Your eyes were something she loved to look at. They were like clouds with a bit of color in them. Her fingers came up to your cheek on their own accord. Softly creasing the smooth skin of your cheek. Her smile widening when you leaned into her palm.

"Nothi-Liar. I don't know if you know this but, when something is bothering you or you're thinking too hard. You get this cute little crinkle right here." With a finger she touched in between your eyebrows. Laughing when you were quick to make said crinkle go away. "Now come on tell me."

"Uh I like someone."

Tara felt herself tense, her smile quickly falling from her face. She sat up away from your warmth. Her heart breaking at the thought of you with someone else. Someone getting to lay with you like she had been doing. Someone else being able to get to kiss you. Or seeing you vulnerable like how she's seen you.

"That's-That's..who? Do I know them?" She had hoped her voice didn't come off like she wanted to cry. Cause she could feel the tears building up.

"Yea. You do. It's Sam."

The way her jaw dropped, part of her not believing what she was hearing. You liked Sam?! Samantha!! Her sister?! The ache in her heart grew ten fold. The tears escaped her eyes and she was quick to wipe them away.

"I'm just kidding. It's not Sam. It's you. I like you."

Tara didn't know whether to punch you or kiss you. So she punched your arm. "You asshole." The punch was quickly followed with a kiss. The feeling of her lips on yours was everything she had dreamed of.

"Were you crying?" You reluctantly pulled away when you felt her wet cheeks.

"Duh! I thought you confessing your love to my, sister! You're an asshole for that and I'll never forgive you." Even though the scare was still there. Your teasing smile had her smiling as well.

"I'm sorry. What can I do for you to forgive me." You brought your hands up, cupping her cheeks. You could feel her smile, the dimples that had been your favorite to feel. Her soft skin was so warm.

"Mmh, go on date with me."

"Aw man. I wanted to be the one to ask."

Tara smiled at the sight of your pout. She chuckled, she no longer felt the heart ache. No. She felt like she could kiss you again. And again. And again. The love she felt in her chest felt so strong. Something she never felt before. Not even with...Amber. Amber had made feel something. There was doubt in that. But nothing like this.

"So is that a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes."

You sat in one of tables in the quad. Scooby sat by your side. It wouldn't be long till Tara and Mindy came out of their last class of the day. It had been a month since your date with Tara. A month since you started dating Tara. Just the thought of your girlfriend was enough to have you smiling.

At hearing the familiar footsteps you straighten up. By the way they slowed down you knew she was trying to sneak up on you, so you let her. You felt her soft lips on your cheek.

"Hey baby." Tara had missed you(although she had seen you two hours ago when she walked you to your class) she couldn't help it. To be able to kiss you when ever she wanted, it was something she loved to do. Having you blush every time she kissed you. It was a sight she aimed to see every single hour of the day. Pecking your lips before greeting Scooby (who was happy to see her). "Hello there buddy, are you protecting our girl huh. Anyone bother her?"

"No one bothered me. Where's Mindy?" Feeling her warmth as she sat next to you. You wrapped your arm around her shoulder bringing her closer. You felt her get closer kissing what you thought was her temple but ended up being the corner of her eyes. "Oops sorry." Hearing her giggle was like a blessing to your ears. She cupped your cheeks guiding your lips to hers into a gentle kiss.

"Mmh it's okay. And she's with Anika. Chad's with Ethan doing who knows what. It's just you and me babe-*BARK*-And Scooby of course." Tara chuckled at the interruption.

"Maybe we could have a date ni-Guys! There's a party going down today and we have been invited." Quinn had said with excitement, you Tara had loved to party. It wasn't anything new. Yes, most times she blew off a party to be with you. You had loved every moment you had with Tara. But the thought of her holding back on having fun was something that began to make you feel, guilty?

"Uh I'm not sure-Oh come on Tara. Y/n tell Tara to have some fun."

With those thoughts in mind. You looked in the direction of your girlfriend. "Yea go have fun babe."

"But what-It's okay. I'm going to be on the phone with my mom most of the night. Go. Have fun. You can call me after."

"Fine, ugh okay. But I'll be in your apartment right after. Okay?" A part of Tara didn't even want to go. She had wanted to go back to your apartment and just relax.

She'd only stay at the party for an hour or two and then she'll go to yours.

You had just finished making yourself a cup noddle soup. Moving in the kitchen had been relatively easy for you. You had gotten used to everything in your apartment. Making the soup was easy. Especially when you did it the lazy way. (Water in the cup and then in the microwave). You weren't supposed to but it was much faster that way.

At sound of Scooby barking had you turning to face the noise. "Scooby?" Your hand held on to the counter. Using it to guide you to the noise.

"Here boy."

You heard him growl, you with your hand moving from the kitchen counter to the wall leading to the supply closet. Then you felt Scooby biting your pants leg. Trying lead you away from the door.

"What's wrong-" The force of a being tackled had your sentence cut short. With the sudden weight, weighing you down. The sudden pain of what you assumed was a knife coming down on your shoulder had you screaming. The scream of pain was followed by the yelp of the person.

Scooby had beaten into the arm of the attacker. But a dog wasn't going to stop the attacker. No. He had came prepared. Wearing a material that can withstand a bite from a dog. Killing you was going to be easy. Gutting the dog was something he had been looking forward to. Stabbing the dog, the yelp of pain the dog let out.

"No!" You sobbed out. You couldn't lose him. You felt around for something, anything you could use to help Scooby. Your fingers connected with something solid, it was Chad's baseball bat. You gripped and swung it as hard as you could. You felt the moment the hard bat connected to the attacker. You heard the moment they dropped Scooby. More sobs escaping your lips as you failed to hear any noise coming from Scooby.

"Oh Y/n, you've missed out quite a bit. But let me catch you up to speed."

You're breathing was heavy, feeling like you couldn't catch your breath with how much you were crying. The pain you felt as the knife was brought down into your chest, the pain was too much. You tried to fight back. Your hand holding the knife, you ears finally picked up the faint whimpering of Scooby. He was dying and you couldn't do anything to help him.

"Alexa call Tara."

"Calling Tara."

"No-" A hand covered your mouth as you tried to fight him off. But you could feel your energy fading. You had lost count on how many times you had been stabbed. You didn't want Tara to hear you dying. You didn't-

"Hey baby-Would you relax Sam it's Y/n." Hearing her voice sounded so relieved. Your felt your tears escaping at a rapid pace. Your tears rolling down the side of your face into your ears.

"Babe?"

"Hello Tara."

The voice had her freezing in her steps. The dread overwhelmed her in waves. No it couldn't. He couldn't be back. With you. You were vulnerable. Scooby could only do so much. Feeling Sam behind her as she bolted. Sam close behind her.

"Tara wait! What's wrong?"

"Don't worry Tara. She won't go alone."

Nothing could have prepared her for when she opened your door. There was no noise. Not the tv playing your favorite show, not the scabbing of nails coming to greet her. Not your voice calling out to her with a beaming smile.

No.

What greeted her was the sight of Scooby laying in pool a blood. He was unmoving. His eyes wide with no life in them. Her hand shook as she raised it to her mouth. The sob escaped her lips when she saw who was laying unconscious not too far from Scooby.

“No. No. No. Please god no.” Her vision became a tunnel vision. The only thing she could see was your stiff body. “Y/n?” Your eyes were open but unblinking. The same as your dog. No life in them. Her chest stuttered to get some air in. The sobs that racked her body as she pulled you closer. Your body was no longer warm. It had turned cold.

“No. Come on Y/n. Please. Please don’t leave me. You can’t. You can’t.” The ache in her chest had also started in her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. The pain she felt at seeing no life in your eyes. Your beautiful cloudy y/ec eyes held no life.

“Sam help me! Help me please! Scooby needs help to Y/n-she needs him. She can’t lose him. Please. Pl-please.” She held your limp body closer to her. Wishing that this was just a horrible nightmare. Wishing that she’d wake up and that you’d be right next to her.

But you stayed still. Your body stayed cold.

Tara gasped awake, her eyes frantically looking around the room. She was in her own room. But you weren’t there. The panic grew. The dread growing when she didn’t find you. She reached for her phone calling you. But the more she went without hearing your voice. The more the fear grew. She was out of her bed in no time. In a rush to find you.

It couldn’t be true.

But it felt so real.

When you weren’t in the kitchen, she had to find you. Your apartment is where she’d find you. You had to be there. You just had to.

The force of knocking into someone had been so sudden that she had almost knocked the person over. Had the person not been prepared.

“Wow Tara trying to tackle a blind person are ya?”

The sound of your voice had her already blood shut eyes widening before she let out a relieved sob as she fell into your arms. As she buried her face into your chest holding you tight. The nightmare had felt so real. The pain of losing you had felt so real. Your de- your body she had felt it.

“Talk to me Tara? What’s wrong?” You were worried. Never had you heard Tara crying like this. You had texted her last night but Anika had responded saying Tara drank a bit too much and was taken home late into the night. So you had gone to bed with the plan of going to Tara’s in the morning hoping you could make her hangover a bit better.

“Tara breath for me baby.” The concern grew as you felt her breathing become more erratic. You tried your best to lead her inside without tripping shutting the door behind you. Locking as many locks as you could. Scooby followed close behind. Also worried for the shorter girl.

When your fingers finally touched the couch you sat her down but she refused to let you go. You wanted to know what had caused her to act like this.

You dug into your bag, fingers grazing items you did not need. Once you found what you needed you took it out. “Come on Tar, use your inhaler. Breath for me baby. I’m right here.”

Once she had her breathing under control. You leaned back into the couch. Pulling Tara on your lap and holding her close to you. You weren’t sure what was wrong but it was clear that she needed comforting. Scooby also jumping on to the couch. His head laying into the space of the couch and you and Tara. Trying his best to comfort the girl.

“I had a bad dream. It felt so real. So fucking real. Everything. From the way you act, talk. Even when you use the microwave to heat up your cup noddle soups. Even when I tell you not to do that. Ghostface attacked you and Scooby. You both didn’t make it. Fuck it felt so real. And when I woke up I felt so confused and-when I didn’t see you, the fear grew. I couldn’t tell if the dream was real or not. I can’t lose you Y/n. I just can’t. I don’t think I’ll be able to live without you.” Tara felt herself wanting to cry again.

“I’m right here. I know I can’t necessarily promise you that nothing will happen to me. But I sure as hell can promise you that I’ll try my very best to always return to you.” You kissed the side of her face. What ended being her ear.

“I know, I’m sorry I freaked out on you.” She mumbled into your neck. Her grip on you never loosened up. Not that you were complaining.

“Don’t be. Plus I’m not that helpless. Daredevil isn’t my favorite marvel character for no reason.” You joked hoping you could get a laugh or smile from her. From the sound of her chuckle you knew you had succeeded.

“Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

With a kiss on your lips, you could still feel her lips trembling just a bit. You wanted her to feel safe. To feel sure.

“I love you Y/n.” To have you laying here with her. It was enough for to calm down just a bit. To have Scooby also here was just enough for her to finally accept that it was just a nightmare.

“I love you to Tara.”

#tara carpenter x reader #scream #tara carpenter #fem!reader

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goldenroutledge · 1 year

Text

next to you

pairing ⤜ rafe cameron x reader

word count ⤜ 1.1k

summary ⤜ mornings with your husband, rafe.

warning(s) ⤜ this work contains a MAJOR season three spoiler! but other than that just fluff? might be on the hurt/comfort side just a smidge

a/n ⤜ he looks so BOYFRIEND in this outfit! i’ve been having so much writer’s block i haven’t written in a year at least, but my babygirl mila @msgorillagripcoochie inspired me with this idea <3 this isn’t canon rafe btw literally none of my work is canon compliant

rafe cameron masterlist

Steam fogged the mirrors of the en-suite bathroom, slowly dissipating with the cooler air being let in from the bedroom. White towel hanging around his hips, Rafe sat at the edge of the bed you shared, staring down the vast space of the walk-in closet.

Fidgeting with the ring on his finger, nerves coursed through his body, and it was in times like these that he remembered the days of drinking scotch before 11am. But that was a thing of the past, he reminded himself just as quickly as the thought popped into his mind.

Today he was meeting with an old teacher from his alma mater, who grew to be one of his favorites. Probably his only favorite.

Rafe was never a scholar or anything, something Ward didn’t allow him to forget. He just learned differently, from someone like Sarah who could barely show up to school three times a week and still pass every exam.

It wasn’t until Rafe found himself with a 67% in his social studies class and less than a month left in the semester to turn his grade around that he was forced to attend office hours.

The first day was embarrassing. He felt like an idiot in the first place, seeing as his horrible grades pretty much spoke for themselves. But even more so now that he had to stay longer at school because he was an idiot.

Rafe stayed silent for the most part. Letting the professor do most of the talking, letting him know which assignments and topics he needed to perform well on to end the class with a passing grade.

It wasn’t until that Friday, his professor knocked some sense into him.

« “You know you’ll never learn anything if you don’t ask questions, right?”

Rafe rolled his eyes, tired of sitting prisoner in the chair of his teacher’s office. “What do you want me to ask?”

“Anything.”

“I don’t have questions.” He lied unconvincingly.

“Every time I teach you, Rafe, I can see the gears turning in your head. You’re a smart kid. But I can’t help you excel if you don’t engage. I get it, alright. I felt stupid asking a bunch of questions in front of everyone in school too but I need you to be receptive. Help me help you, Mr. Cameron.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay. We can start with assigning you a peer tutor.”

Rafe wanted to laugh. Or cry, he wasn’t sure. The whole thing was just ridiculous to him at this point.

“She’ll be someone you can talk with about the material, ask questions to, someone you can trust to help you get back on track. Are you familiar with Y/n Y/ln?” »

Little did he know, Mr. Murphy would be getting the boot by the school board. Something about budget cuts, as if the kook parents of the island didn’t give enough donations to the school to keep the water fountains at a perfectly cold temperature.

Not because their books were falling apart or because their desks were chipping. Because people are selfish, and the new headmistress of the academy felt like the money could be better spent remodeling her office. It was laughable, really.

Today, that professor was back on the island, and reached out to Rafe to meet with him following the news of Ward’s death. Not that he mentioned that specifically in his email, though it was mostly implied that he’d wanted to check up on Rafe after everything.

And with all the questions he’d probably be asked today during this lunch with his old mentor, all he could ponder over was what he was going to wear. Perhaps it was a method of procrastination, to get his mind off of everything else.

Rafe sighed. “Y/n?”

At hearing his voice echoing through the house, you slid your bookmark in between the pages and followed his voice upstairs into your shared bedroom.

“You called?”

“I need your help.”

Your eyebrows raised involuntarily at the sight before you; no matter how many times you’d seen Rafe almost naked (and actually naked), he never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“Help getting dressed?”

He nods, confirming that you’re always good at reading his mind. “Dress me, please?”

You chuckled, pulling some articles of clothing from the hangers and drawers. It was just lunch, so it wasn’t like he needed anything too business-y. His striped blue and orange shirt had always been one of your favorites, though he seemed to look good in almost anything.

You threw a pair of boxers over to him, keeping your back turned as you still rummaged through the closet. No matter how irresistible he was, there wasn’t any time for funny business this morning.

“There’s no need to be nervous, y’know. Mr. Murphy has always liked you.”

How do you always know what he’s thinking, damnit. “Yeah. I guess.”

He pulled the striped shirt over his head while you found pants for him to wear.

“Just don’t want him to think I’m still the same loser I was back then.”

“You’ve never been a loser, Rafe.”

“Maybe not in your eyes.” His lips stretched into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He put on the pants you picked for him, sitting back down to look up at you.

“Definitely not in my eyes.”

His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer so his head rested on your stomach. The tips of your fingernails lightly scratched the back of his neck as you embraced.

“Do you remember the science fair? Freshman year?”

Rafe hummed in response. “Ward thought it was stupid. I asked him to come and he didn’t. Said he would be too embarrassed when I lost.”

“And then what happened? You won the whole damn thing.”

“I won the whole damn thing.” He smiled against your skin, repeating your words softly.

“You’ve never been a loser.”

Kneeling down, you placed your hands on his thighs, and gave him a sweet kiss.

“You’ve already accomplished so much.” You affirmed, reminding him of the businesses he had taken over since Ward died. Still, Rafe was unsure if he could rise to the occasion.

You took the ends of his jeans and cuffed them, knowing he’s terrible at doing it himself. They always come out uneven. And conveniently enough, he likes spending these quiet moments together. Neither of you would trade them for anything.

“I married you.” He cooed, taking your left hand in his and letting his thumb glide across the ring on your finger. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

“That it was.” You cheesed, letting him pull you up to straddle him. “Next time you think you’re not accomplished, Rafey…” You peppered soft kisses to his jawline. “Remember that you’ve got me.”

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @rudybarnes @annab-nana @babeyglo @reawritesthings @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneylaneylaney @jjpouggues @pogueslandia @mildkleptomaniac @whcclxr @mrs-cameron @it-was-never-meant-to-be-boys @alanniys @amourology @luversgirl + rafe cameron taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @chrisevansfuturewife @drewstarkeysbitchh @littlementalpolaroids @destourtereaux @kookkyra @iammirrorball

it’s been a while since i’ve posted writing so if anyone wants to be removed from/added to the taglist please don’t hesitate to let me know! 💌

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #outer banks fic

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angel-of-the-moons · 7 months

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I haven’t stopped thinking about that Hobie baby fever fic ever since you posted it. Many thoughts. Many thoughts many many thoughts and ideas many many little ideas.

You have people saying ‘Oh good luck lol kids are SO hard!’ ‘He’s definitely gonna regret it you’re gonna be a single parent’. But Hobie’s probably been WISHING from a young age he could be a parent, the only thing he didn’t prep for is your little one grabbing his wicks and him nervously calling out “Luv, luv help me LUV-”. He learnt very quickly to tie his hair back when he’s holding them. If you have a little girl, everyone always thinks it’s you who’s done her hair for the day or for school. NOPE. Hobie’s been with her in the bathroom since 6 in the morning putting her in braids and buns. Your baby is his whole world and he’ll be DAMNED if he won’t be the absolute best dad EVER ‼️

Oh my godddddddddd my ovaries went 💥💥

The Pitter Patter of Little Feet Pt. 2

Dad!Hobie x Wife!Reader

TW/CW: A lil angst at the start, Fluff. So much fluff.

A/N: I'm basing all my baby prep off of the things I had to do for my nephew. I am unsure the proper care that goes into textured hair but I hope I can do it justice!

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

You remember what people told you, how "someone like him" wouldn't be able to handle being a dad, how he'd leave you. The words said by your mother hurt the worst, the things she said about Hobie. Your father was no better, especially when they found out you two agreed to get pregnant before anything else.

Especially after you put the positive pregnancy tests, the test results from blood work with your doctor, and some baby booties on the table as a surprise.

It was supposed to go like you imagined, right? Happy jubilant crying, hugs, congratulations...

You got the exact opposite, with your parents criticizing everything about your boyfriend, the father of your unborn baby. The man you loved.

"What kind of father would he be? A bad one, just look at how he's dressed! You think he can help dress your child?" Your mother scoffed. "And those awful piercings! I bet your baby will be running around with holes in their face by the time they're six!"

"And what about a job? You can't be the only one to support your family. He's a man, he needs to step up and quit it with that "punk lifestyle". It's not suitable to raise my grandchild in!" Your father grunted.

After your baby was born, you cut them off and had a courthouse wedding, and a little get-together with his friends from the Spider Society. A mix of a reception and baby shower.

Joke's on them! Hobie was an amazing father, and an amazing husband. The moment he found out you two were having a little girl?

Pink. And. Purple. Her style would be all punkish of course.

He got stuffed instruments that crinkled for when she would teethe, some guitar-shaped rattles...

And he would never admit it, but Hobie actually cried, when he got to hold your baby girl for the first time. You guys named her Selena. Selena Brown.

She came out angry, wailing, as if she was pissed off at the world she had only been in for a few moments.

"Already got the spirit! Make a big noise, a big statement. That's my girl!" Hobie laughed, playing with her tiny feet.

After that, Hobie was very attentive. From you working from home, he would help. He'd fetch the breast pump when you needed it, would prep the bottles, and keep Selena occupied while you worked. He would even take the late shifts at night to make sure you got your rest.

As Selena got bigger, her hair became a bit unruly, and at times you had no idea what to do with it. Hobie? He came in clutch. The proper ties, hair masks, grease (if needed), oils, brushes...

The trick was getting the rambunctious one year old to hold still while her father attempted to tame the poofy mass.

It was one day, you got up from your computer only to hear Hobie shout your name.

"Babe! Babe!" He cried out, grunting.

Of course, you made a dash for the living room, only to see your husband with your toddler. Apparently she had moved behind him, her hands clinging to his shirt to help keep her balanced as she bounced on her little chubby feet.

Her big brown eyes gleamed as she giggled, her bottom teeth poking out in the most adorable way.

Well... it wasn't from where Hobie sat.

Selena's little fist had a tight hold over one of his wicks, tugging his head back sharp.

"A lil' help, luv?!" He winced, hissing at you as you covered your face to try and keep from laughing.

"Come on, Bug, give daddy's poor head a rest. He's got enough problems with that mess he calls hair." You tease, scooping up your little girl.

But... even though her grip loosened, Hobie's wick stayed attached to her hand.

"Oh... ohhhhh..." You said, clicking your tongue.

"What! What!" Hobie groaned, trying to tug his head free.

"You made me have a spider baby."

#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #my writing #answered

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Text

Grays

Frankie Morales x f!reader

{ Grays Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Grays Part II }

Rating: M

Summary: Frankie wants you to cover up his grays. You want to knock some sense into his salt-and-pepper head.

Warnings: Insecure Frankie in need of self-love comes with his own warning, Reader is a hairstylist and has a related nickname, no physical descriptions other than that Reader has hair that can be dyed, not-quite-friends to *respectfully looking* dynamics, mentions of hair, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, sexual innuendos, lots of teasing and banter.

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: The origin story is here if you missed it. This is dedicated to my Frankie soul sister LJ @prolix-yuy who encouraged me to write this many months ago ❤️ As always, I’m an anxious mess writing for a new-to-me Pedro boy, so please be gentle with me (cos it's my birthday week) 🥺

I have a part 2 (with smut) in mind. I love where this leaves off, but who am I kidding. I probably won’t be able to help myself 😂

The bell on the door chimes with a sweet tinkle, cutting through the low, insistent purr of the hair clipper buzzing in your grasp. You don’t look up as you spy broad shoulders and a battered Standard Heating Oil cap crossing the threshold out of the corner of your eye.

‘Are you lost, Morales?’ you drawl indifferently, focused on the task at hand. ‘I have an appointment with Pope today, not you.’

‘He booked it under his name. Thought you’d take it as a prank if I called in myself.’

You look up to meet his gaze reflected in the mirror sitting in front of Greg, your current customer. ‘I wonder why he’d think that.’

Frankie shrugs, leaning against the reception counter with his arms crossed. ‘Beats me.’

You snort. ‘Really? You’ve insisted loudly and repeatedly for as long as I’ve known you that you don’t see the point of going to a hairstylist when you can have Pope cut your hair with kitchen scissors in his bathtub.’

‘C’mon, Shiv.’

‘Oh, he knows my name,’ you gasp sarcastically. You turn to Greg, who’s clearly amused by this exchange, and loop him in. ‘He usually just grunts at me.’

At this point, Ashton - your apprentice and all-round salon maverick - makes an appearance. Clearly having caught the tail-end of your conversation with Frankie, he glances between the two of you with an arched eyebrow. ‘Are we back to chasing customers away, boss?’

‘Sit his ass down but he doesn’t get a free drink,’ you instruct. ‘I’ll get to him when I get to him.’

Ashton goes ahead and ignores your orders point blank, per usual. After hanging up Frankie’s jacket and settling him at the station furthest away from you in the far corner of the salon, you see him sneakily give him a coffee. He can never resist the handsome ones.

You take your sweet time with Greg, cleaning up his sideburns, even though you’re basically done with him - just to tick off your waiting customer.

Not that it works, and you know it won’t. He just sits there, his wide frame filling up the chair, still as a rock. The dog-eared, months-old magazines strategically placed on the table for idle reading lie untouched. That’s Francisco Morales for you.

You’ve been orbiting each other since sixth grade, as all kids in your close-knit neighbourhood do. In fact, most of your customers went to your school.

You don’t even remember how it started - probably at a sleepover - you discovered one day that you’re handy with box hair dye. By freshman year, you were colouring your fellow classmates’ hair in the girls’ toilets after school, earning enough pocket money to keep your cabinet at home fully-stocked with new hair products on rotation.

Your ever-changing hair colour got you into trouble with the headmaster more times than you can count, who nicknamed you Shape Shifter. Your friends abbreviated it to Shifter, then over the years, whittled it down to Shiv, and it stuck.

After being gifted a set of styling scissors for Christmas one year, you started hanging out at the neighbourhood salon, hustling for an apprenticeship. You practised what you observed on your fellow students, giving out haircuts on the bleachers on non-game days for a couple of dollars (the fee waived if something went disastrously wrong).

That’s how you first met Benny - his then cheerleader girlfriend took him in for a haircut when it got too long for her liking. When you eventually opened your own salon years later, he was your first paying customer, having come home after being honourably discharged from the army.

During the early days, when you struggled to fill your appointments and he couldn’t win a fight to save his life, you made a pact. You would do his hair at a heavy discount for his posters and promotions, and in return, he would let you use his photos for the salon’s marketing.

And it worked. Well, not that you had anything to do with him turning his fortunes around on the MMA circuit, but he had everything to do with getting customers through your door. It only got busier when Santi joined the ranks a couple of years later, and even though Will only shows up when his hair gets really unruly, they both sit in front of your camera with no complaint in return for mate’s rates.

Having these guys on your salon’s social media keeps both the gents and the ladies booking up your appointments.

Frankie Morales, though, is a different animal.

When you finally appear over his left shoulder, his coffee is all gone and he meets your eyes in the mirror nonchalantly. He’s leaning his whole weight on his right elbow on the armest, his left arm outstretched and blunt nails tapping on the table, the only hint of impatience he’s giving away.

He’s good at that - he’s the laid-back one out of the boys, the one who hangs back and observes with arms crossed, but quick to crack a grin and throw in a wicked barb when the occasion calls for it. Nothing ever seems to faze him, and probably nothing does - you hear that makes a good pilot, and from what Pope lets on, he’s a damn good one.

It also makes for highly effective bait for the ladies. He’s a popular fixture on the local bar scene - let’s face it, all of the boys are. You’ve seen him in action more than once when Benny or Pope invites you along on a night out, more often than not without Will since he had a baby girl with his high school sweetheart last year. Frankie’s brooding, quiet, beer-sipping act often works better than Benny’s over-the-top flirting or Pope’s Casanova bit.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Hands on your hips, you goad him, ‘Alright Morales, how do I know you’ll pay up, you cheap bastard?’

‘Pope says to put it on his tab.’

‘Music to my ears.’ You tap him on the shoulder. ‘Sit up and off with the cap.’

With a grumble, Frankie lifts the cap up by the beak, ducking his head as he does so. He tosses it onto the table offhandedly and shifts in his seat, but you’re not fooled by his unconvincing air of indifference. From the way he plasters his palms to the top of his denim-clad thighs, as if to stop them from fidgeting, you know he’s feeling vulnerable.

You can’t say you’ve ever seen Frankie without his headgear - now that you think about it, he’s been wearing it since high school. Heck, he might have gone through several incarnations of that blasted hat in the years in between. You’ve caught glimpses when he lifts it up to fix his hair, but otherwise, all you see is what peeks out from underneath, the longer wisps that coil around his ears and the curls at the back.

As it turns out, there’s really nothing to hide - sure, the cut is blunt and his hair lacks shine, but both can be easily fixed. You step into his space and comb through his locks, starting at the base of his skull and working your way up the sides.

The contact startles him - he practically jumps out of his skin, and you don’t miss the way the veins on the back of his hands pop and he digs his nails into his legs.

'Easy, boy,' you soothe with a teasing undertone, earning yourself a glower from the pilot. As much as you enjoy needling him, you do want your customers to be comfortable. So you let slip a deliberate but genuinely appreciative hum as the dark tendrils, subtly tinged with grays, part softly at your prying fingertips. ‘Wow, your curls are really thick.'

He looks up, an unsure frown on his brow. ‘Oh. Is that bad?’

‘No, Morales, it’s definitely a compliment,’ you tell him encouragingly - your bark has always been worse than your bite. ‘What do you use to wash your hair? It’s a bit dry.’

He shrugs. ‘Shampoo.’ At your insistent stare, he snaps, ‘What?’

‘Don’t lie to me, Morales,’ you warn him in a stern voice.

He huffs and gives in. ‘Fine. It’s a 2-in-1 body wash. I get it at the gas station, happy?’

You shoot him a smug grin as he rolls his eyes. ‘Well, you’re using proper shampoo from now on, and conditioner.’ He opens his mouth, a complaint on the tip of his tongue, when you hold a finger up at him. ‘Don’t argue with me, mister. I’ll throw in a couple of bottles on the house to get you started.’

‘Fine,’ he concedes. Unfailingly polite even when grumpy, he adds, ‘Thanks, Shiv.’

Your trusty swivelling stool screeches in protest when you drag it over on its wheels, before you take a seat and address the elephant in the room. ‘So - I’m guessing you’re here because of the wedding.’

You get a grunt in response. Scratching a particularly scrappy patch of his beard that has turned prematurely silver, he says, ‘My ma says I should cover up my old man grays for it.’

You snort, shaking your head. ‘Ha! And you tell your mother I say - hell no, ma’am! I will do no such thing.’

Frankie blinks at your unexpectedly adamant response. ‘What?’

‘I said, hell no,’ you repeat. Turning his head to the side with two fingers on his stubbled cheek, you comb his locks upwards to study the way the grays blend in softly with the umber, matching the ashen flecks in his beard. He doesn't start as badly at your touch this time, but there’s a telltale tick in his jaw, and you can almost hear the tension that thrums just below his skin where a late summer tan still lingers.

‘See how your grays are mainly coming out on the underside?’ you point out. ‘I like the way they just peek through the brown, it gives more depth to your curls. Natural highlights, if you will.’

He looks unconvinced and swipes at a smattering of silver with dismissive fingers. ‘Dunno. Thought the grays make me look old.’

You chuckle. ‘You’re no spring chicken anymore, Morales, and I mean it in a good way. Grays are natural - they will look even better when you start using actual shampoo and conditioner. Trust me, the salt and pepper works on you. I’m not dyeing your grays, and that’s that.’

For the first time today, Frankie turns his head and looks directly into your eyes. ‘My mother’s coming back to town for the wedding, you know. And she remembers where you live.’

You laugh. ‘Go ahead and send her my way, you know I’m not scared of her.’

He scoffs at your big talk. ‘You should be.’

Your relationship with the Morales matriarch is complicated, to say the least. She was always hard on you when you were a kid, thinking you were too wild and undisciplined. Now that you’re grown, you’re still torn between your admiration for her as a single mother who raised a good man, and the woman who never tires of dishing out criticism, warranted or not.

You give him a reassuring pat on the back, solid and warm under your touch. ‘Leave your mother to me, Morales. The grays stay, and I’ll make sure you steal the show at the party.’

��Your funeral,’ he quips.

‘You just worry about getting yourself to the wedding,’ you retort, cracking your knuckles. ‘Now, are you ready for some pampering?’

Frankie rolls his eyes, but you see the corner of his mouth tick up in a vaguely upward direction - and you take it as a win.

‘Relax, Morales.’

‘I am relaxed,’ he insists through gritted teeth.

‘You’re about as relaxed as a cow on the butcher’s block. Unclench.’

For someone as economical with words as he is, his body certainly says a lot. Every single part of him seems hellbent on making his discomfort known. He breathes a frustrated exhale through his nose, brow deeply furrowed, his glare burning holes into the ceiling.

The leather seat of the backwash barely contains his tall build, his t-shirt stretched to the seams across his chest as he leans back into the basin. He’s bouncing his left leg irritably, the tight denim straining against his lap.

You try - valiantly - not to gape too obviously at the conspicuous bulge nestled snugly between his thighs under his belt buckle. But you can’t avert your eyes from something of that size. It’s against the laws of physics. Or something.

Even from where you’re standing, at the top of the basin peering down the slope of his body, its heft is clearly testing the structural integrity of the zipper of his jeans. Imagine the view from the other side -

Clearing your throat, you bodily press down on Frankie’s shoulders which are coiled up like the hood of an angry python, forcing them to loosen up. He jerks as if he’s a copper wire and you’re electricity. You tease, ‘So sensitive. You act like you’ve never felt a woman’s touch before, Morales.’

‘You know that’s not true,’ he growls at you, the prominent vein in his neck starting to pulse in frustration.

‘No, you’re right - I do know,’ you smirk, dragging out your syllables.

Your tone has him frowning at you, upside down. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean - I know,’ you repeat with a conspiratorial wink.

He narrows his eyes at you. ‘What do you know, Shiv?’

You wriggle his eyebrows at him suggestively, enjoying yourself far too much. ‘I own a salon, Morales. I hear things from the ladies about town.’

One large palm reaches up to shield his face in embarrassment, a pained groan escaping between the gaps of his fingers. ‘For fuck’s sake - kill me now.’

You laugh, wrestling his hand from his face to with an impish grin. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve only heard good things so far - Frankie big boy Morales.’

He blushes so hard that his ears and neck go a livid red, and for a minute, you’re actually worried that he’d pass out from not enough blood reaching his heart. Not keen on the prospect of having to explain to the emergency services that you teased the poor man into an aneurysm, you turn on the water and cut short your little chinwag with a good-natured chuckle.

His hands are still tightly clamped around the armrest when you carefully run the shower head along his hairline and behind his ears, soaking his curls. His biceps flex from the tight grip and the lean muscles strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt.

At least he closes his eyes when you start with the shampoo. The velvety lather froths as you patiently wash his hair, which clings to his wet curls like vanilla frosting. The deep crease between his brows eases with each gentle swipe into his locks, and the invisible force pulling his lips downwards slackens. By the time you rinse out the bubbles, you don’t miss the way the tension in his body unwittingly goes with it down the drain.

When your nails slide slickly into his hair with the conditioner, his stubborn body finally, slowly unfurls. His head tips back of its own accord, baring the column of his strong neck as he leans inadvertently into your touch. Colour returns to his knuckles when he releases his death grip on the backwash.

You smile to yourself, scraping your fingertips along his scalp in a firm massage, watching his chest rise and fall as he teeters on the brink of consciousness.

As your thumbs trace a confident path down the back of his skull, they appear to find a particularly sensitive spot near the base of his neck, and it's as if a switch is flipped. You witness the exact moment he breaks - his back arches off the leather seat, his obstinate lips part with a strangled half-sigh catching in his throat as he yields his full weight into the palm of your hands.

If you're not careful, you could get used to this.

‘Still with me, Morales?’ you tease quietly.

He garbles incoherently, and you grin.

Frankie practically molds into the chair like warm wax when you shepherd him back to the styling station. You’re so chuffed with yourself that you don’t even feel the need to gloat at the way his eyes are glazed over and how his head lolls into the soft pressure when you run a fluffy towel through his hair. The man recoiling at the mere brush of your fingers a distant memory.

You run an assessing eye over him, brushing out his locks to gauge your game plan. ‘I like this length on you, so I’ll just trim the split ends and tidy up your sideburns. You’ll benefit from some layering too - it’s a bit heavy on top right now.’

From the way he blinks owlishly at you, you know he doesn’t catch a single word. He shrugs and says matter-of-factly. ‘You can’t do worse than Pope.’

The salon is quiet this afternoon, as it tends to be on Wednesdays. You let him enjoy the peace for a little bit and tap your foot to Ashton’s playlist as your styling scissors move over his curls in metallic snips.

‘Tip your head forward for me,’ you instruct, sliding around the back of his head on your wheels as you probe, ‘So - how are you feeling about the wedding?’

The fabric of his t-shirt bunches over his shoulders as they quirk noncommittally.

‘It’s just a few days away.’

He makes an indifferent noise. But you’re not so easily dissuaded from conversation, and he knows it.

‘Can’t be easy - watching your ex get married.’

Frankie pins you with a long-suffering stare in the mirror. ‘We broke up a year ago.’

Getting onto your feet, you ruffle your fingers through the crown of his curls. ‘Yeah, but you dated for years. She sure moved on quick.’

He huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Thanks, Shiv.’

Swapping out the styling scissors for blending shears, you argue, ‘What? It’s a legitimate observation. I’m just making conversation here.’

‘Or we could just sit here quietly.’

Ha. As if you ever listen to him. You press on, ‘Why did she invite you anyway?’

Frankie’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender as he humours you. ‘It’s a damned if she does, damned if she doesn’t kind of situation, I guess. The whole town’s invited.’

‘You sure she isn’t trying to flaunt it in your face or something?’

‘Flaunting implies I still care. I don’t.’

You give him a juvenile nudge nudge, wink wink. ‘Well, on the bright side, you’ll definitely get laid, being the heartbroken ex and all. Chicks love that shit.’

He dispatches a side-long stare in your direction. ‘I’m not heartbroken, and that’s not why I’m going. And you know none of this is any of your business, right?’

‘You’re no fun,’ you pout.

He quips, ‘As a professional hairstylist, you really should be better at making polite conversation.’

You snort. ‘Do you really think it’s a good idea to call me rude when I have scissors in my hands?’

Frankie watches you work in the comfortable lull that’s settled between you, gliding the blades along strands of his curls pulled taut, before running a fine-toothed comb through to brush out the loose tufts. Soft coils land on the floor around his chair as you work your way methodically through his layers.

‘Are you going to the wedding?’ he asks eventually.

You shrug. ‘Maybe, depends on my schedule. I gotta say, I’m kind of curious to see how tacky it will be.’

At his eyebrow sternly cocked, you argue, ‘I know she’s your ex and all, but she’s always been a bit tacky. I mean, that remodel of your house was just tragic.’

Frankie frowns. ‘How do you know all this? You’ve never been to my house.’

You wink. ‘Benny tells me everything when I do his hair.’

He pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘Of course. Benjamin fucking Miller.’

You give him a pat on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, I’m on your side, if it helps.’

‘I don’t need you on my side.’

You flash him an insufferable grin. ‘Too bad, Francisco. I am and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

The hairdryer drowns out any further conversation, and Frankie quietly studies you as you cord your fingers through his hair, ruffling it as it dries.

It’s still a bit damp when you switch off the hairdryer and reach up to pull a couple of jars from the shelf above. ‘On the day of the wedding, I want you to wash your hair just before you style it. You have a hairdryer at home, right?’

He throws you a pointed look. ‘I’m not a heathen.’

You grin. ‘Down boy, just checking. Now, you’ll dry your hair until it’s still a bit wet, like so.’ Presenting the styling mousse to him, you say, ‘Then go on and grab some product - you only need a dollop.’

He dips his index finger into the pot, scooping up a generous blob. Your attention is unexpectedly piqued at the sight of his hands.

Have they always been so big?

Realising he’s staring at you in wait, you shake yourself out of it. ‘Ok, rub the mousse onto your fingertips and run them all over your hair, combing from root to end.’

Frankie does as he’s told, face set to a serious scowl as he impeccably goes over each section of his locks, staring into the mirror to make sure he gets every strand. For the first time, you see the pilot in him up close, and you wonder if he’s this thorough about other things, like -

Laundry, your mind interrupts as it careens on the brink of the metaphorical gutter. Get your shit together, Shiv.

‘Good,’ you smile when he’s done, hoping he doesn't see the strain in it. ‘Now, I want you to rake your fingers through the roots when you dry your hair all the way.’ In demonstration, your nails burrow into the base of his thick hair, then you wriggle your fingers upwards towards the ends. ‘It will give you lots of volume and really show off this cut.’

Passing him the hairdryer, you watch him critically in the mirror. He imitates your movements, a bit clumsily and far too cautiously. Leaning down to his ear so he can hear you over the whir, you instruct him, ‘Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.’

He chokes and pins you with a wide-eyed stare in the mirror that glances right off your oblivious self. Along with your words, nothing about this exchange would register in your head in any other way until much, much later tonight, when you replay the conversation in your head in that limbo between sleep and wakefulness.

It may or may not have you squealing into your pillow in latent embarrassment - and something else.

But for now, you’re happy with the way his hair has set, and you gesture for him to switch off the hairdryer. Turning his chair towards you and away from the mirror, you scan your eyes over him and make small adjustments - tucking a couple of strands behind his ear here, a couple of final snips there.

As a final touch, you bury your fingers into his locks, dragging your fingertips through the roots to impart a final tousle so that the curls are loose and soft. You preen at the way he sways into your contact, all shyness gone, his hooded eyes half-closed - before he seems to catch himself and sits up with a self-conscious ahem.

Grabbing a small bottle from the shelf, you say, ‘Last thing - your beard is a bit dry as well. This oil will keep it nice and moisturised, just two or three drops after you wash up in the morning will do.’

Tipping his face up by the crook of your finger and opening up his neck to you, you smooth the ointment along both sides of his jaw, rubbing circles into his neatly trimmed whiskers and all the way up his sideburns. Sliding downwards, your hands seek out the closely shaved stubble tucked beneath his chin. Then, by sheer momentum, your palms continue down his throat in a slow, sticky descent, until the pads of your thumbs slot into the hollow between his collarbones, your fingers resting at the base of his neck where you feel his pulse rabbiting underneath.

The air thickens and shifts between you. When he swallows, you feel the ripple of the moment against your fingertips.

His eyes are on you, and suddenly he’s too close, his skin too hot under your hands. To your horror, something akin to shyness rears its head and you almost stumble backwards to put a safe distance between you.

Scrubbing the oily residue from your hands on a towel, you break the moment with a wink and a steadier smile than you actually feel. ‘You look good, Morales. Ready to take a look?’

‘As if you would take no for an answer,’ he mumbles under his breath. Fondness might be too strong of a word - but you don't think you're imagining the faint trace of amusement in his voice.

With a dramatic ta-da, you spin his chair around with a flourish.

Frankie Morales is obviously not a vain man - he most likely owns five pairs of jeans that he’s worn on rotation for the past fifteen years, his t-shirts are washed ragged, and his trusty leather boots have seen better days. He probably doesn’t use a mirror other than for purely utilitarian purposes, like checking if there’s something stuck in his teeth from his last meal.

But right now, by the way he’s holding his breath as he meets his own eyes in the reflection, you can tell that he’s really looking at himself for the first time in a long while.

You pretend to busy yourself with tidying up the styling station as you discreetly sneak glances at him, feeling strangely bashful for intruding in this moment. When he remembers to breathe again, he tilts his head left then to the right, and back again, even swivelling his chair from side to side so he can peer round the back.

You’ve parted his waves to the side, the lighter cut allowing his curls to carry their natural shape. The healthy sheen, courtesy of the mousse, tempers his grays to a softer, burnt silver that catches the light fetchingly as he moves. Reaching up, Frankie pushes back a stray curl that falls over his eyes, and his back straightens in a quiet show of confidence.

Running a salon is hard work and often thankless. But on days like this? You know you’re meant to do this.

A dramatic gasp draws both of your attention. Ashton is clutching at his chest, backed up against the neighbouring styling station, gaping at Frankie. ‘Mister - you look good enough to devour. Look at that salt and pepper, I’m living for the grays. Doing the Lord’s work, Shiv!’

You laugh as Frankie flushes, scratching an invisible itch on his forehead. You brush the loose hairs off his shoulders with a towel and give him a nudge. ‘See? I’m not the only one who thinks you look good with the grays. You better stock up on the condoms, Morales, the ladies will be all over you at the party.’

He shakes his head self-deprecatingly as he stands up, rubbing his palms on his jeans, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. ‘I doubt it, but - thanks. I appreciate this, Shiv.’

He shrugs on his well-loved burnt yellow jacket, the one with the sleeves perpetually folded up above his wrists and grabs his cap. You hold out a paper bag with the free shampoo and conditioner you promised him, throwing in a jar of hair mousse for good measure. ‘You’re welcome, and you better not put your hat on again this afternoon after all that hard work.’

His fingers brush yours when he takes the bag from you, then, as if it’s the logical next thing to do, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your right cheek, his stubble coarse against your skin - and you know without looking it’s the gray patch in his beard that brushes against your jaw as he draws back. You fumble, feeling heat prickle the back of your neck and blooming in your rib cage.

He flashes you the most self-assured smile you’ve seen on him this afternoon, which has you biting your bottom lip. ‘I won’t. Maybe see you at the wedding, Shiv.’

It takes you five full seconds to regain motor functions. By the time you unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, Frankie’s already out of the door with a spring in his step.

In companionable silence, you and Ashton watch the pilot strut - because that’s what he’s doing, he’s strutting with a confidence that becomes him - across the road through the glass front of the salon.

‘What a dish,’ Ashton sighs dreamily, flopping into a chair as if his limbs have given out. ‘I hope he comes back soon.’

You smile. A girl could always hope.

Notes: It's the first time I'm using a nickname for a Reader, but I have a real soft spot for Shiv, and I think she deserves one. I'm not sure where the fandom stands on this, does it disqualify the fic as a reader insert? If anyone has an issue with this, please let me know! For me, Shiv has no physical descriptions so to me she's still a reader insert.

I don't know if anyone expected this kind of dynamics between these two, but it's been so much fun to write with a bit of antagonism in the mix. I hope you enjoyed this, reblogs and comments are so, so appreciated as always. Thank you for reading ❤️

#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfic #frankie friday #queue

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beachylupin · 9 months

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Harvest Moon || Remus Lupin x Muggle!Fem!Reader

it's finally here! here’s the moodboard to go with it! i worked far too hard on this so please let me know if you like it or if you want to see more of her! <3 to preface: this part takes place in roughly september :-) pt. 2 here word count: 4.6k warnings: mention of alcohol and cigarettes, maybe like two swear words, fluffy, some pining, quickly edited

You and Lily went to primary school together. Your mum and dad loved her like she was their own, and even though she had loving parents, she would often spend a lot of her evenings after school and summers at your house, evading Petunia’s constant need to bully her. The two of you were like sisters: sharing secrets, having constant sleepovers, playing pretend.

However, there was something different about her that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Petunia incessantly told you that Lily was a witch, but you didn’t believe her. Why would you believe someone who hated the girl that you loved so dearly? Lily wasn’t green or wicked, and she didn’t have a wart growing on the end of her nose. That’s all witches were to you back then, and Lily was the opposite. She was radiant and kind, like sunlight on a dark day. She was your best friend, not some evil hag.

It wasn’t until a giggling Lily appeared on your doorstep the July before you turned eleven.

“Look!” She said, shoving an odd letter into your hand. “It’s for a place called Hogwarts! Go on! Read it!”

She eagerly watched you read it out loud. “Dear Miss Evans. You have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” You couldn’t believe it. Lily, the radiant girl, was actually a witch. Petunia was right all along, and that September, Lily left to go to this magical school.

When Lily came home, she had befriended the greasy haired boy from down the street that you had only known as “snipe” from the kids at school, saying he looked close to the little bird that shared the name. You were willing to share her, seeing as he had no other options for friends, but he tried to take Lily away from you completely, saying she was his kind. Of course, Lily didn’t stand for this and split her time with the two of you equally.

As the years went on, the more you grew to dislike Severus. It was almost like he had a vendetta against you because you were Lily’s friend before she was his, or something like that. Whatever it was, you kept your head high whenever you saw him, ignoring his constant “filthy muggle” comments, and greeting him with a nice, “Hi, Severus! It’s so wonderful to see you again!”

His possessiveness didn’t seem to matter in the long run because Lily came back from her fifth year at this magical school gushing to you about some bloke named James. He was all she ever talked about. James, James, James.

“He’s annoying, and kind of a prick, but God, I just love looking at him…”

You felt like her real sister as you cursed Lily under your breath the entire way to the reception tent next to Potter Manor. She didn’t invite anyone else in your family to her wedding except you.

Sure, you were the only one to really know Lily, but a quick explanation, and your mum wouldn’t have asked any questions.

It wouldn’t have been that simple, you decided, when you saw the actual wedding. James and Lily took part in what the pixie-haired girl sitting next to you called the “Unbreakable Vow” in which they used wands to seal their promise to marriage. If one of them were to break this vow, they would die, the girl explained. It sounded intense, but as a hopeless romantic, it was one of the most beautiful sentiments of love you had ever seen.

Their vow keepers were the best man and maid of honor. The best man wore flamboyant plum dress robes with jewels adoring the lapels. He had shoulder-length, raven-colored hair and the biggest smile you had ever seen. He didn’t let the smile drop once. The maid of honor wore a pretty sapphire blue dress that complemented her skin tone very well. She wore her curls in a high bun, curly bangs framing her face.

James and Lily looked magnificent. James had on maroon dress robes that nearly matched his best man’s, but they were more humble with gold accents rather than the gaudy jewels the other man chose. Lily wore an ivory dress that flowed off her body like it was made of water. It had lace cap sleeves, and a bodice that contoured to her small shape. Every step she took, the ground blossomed with small lilies.

The more you looked around, the more you realized that everyone dressed insanely nice. You felt self conscious seeing that other people around went “all out” for this wedding: beautiful gowns and tea-length dresses of all colors of the rainbow, and the fanciest dress-robes you had ever seen adorned with silver, gold, and jewels. Obviously, you thought, they had gotten their clothes enchanted, seeing a special tailor to look as amazing as they did.

You got to work with Primark and Harrods, and since you didn’t have the luxury of getting something custom made by a literal wizard, you looked simple. You wore your hair down your back in loose waves, a plunging rose colored dress, and nude heels. In any wizard’s eyes, you’d look plain, unwilling to flaunt your nonexistent wealth through fancy clothes.

While the other people were nice and smiled widely at you as you walked past, you could tell that they knew you were different. It was in the hushing of their voices as you passed, and the way they looked at you like you had something growing out of the top of your head.

As far as you could tell, you were the only outsider in a sea of people that seemed to know each other. They all mingled, hugging and kissing each other like none of them expected this type of occasion, which baffled you.

Lily and James were made for one another. Even though James was quite literally Lily’s opposite, they worked. They fit together like two fiery puzzle pieces. You couldn’t see why anyone wouldn’t be expecting their wedding.

You self-consciously raked a hand through your hair, taking extra care to not snag any of it on your fingers, and looked at the table spots on the board next to the giant tent, desperately searching for your name. When you found it at table nine, you walked, head down, into the tent to sit down.

You took your seat in the nearly empty tent, pouring yourself a generous amount of the table wine, and drank it down. You sighed, taking a breath for what felt like the first time in an hour.

You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself shy, but in this specific scenario, you felt yourself clamming up. These people, the party; it was all overwhelming. It was so different from the normal, non-magical life you were used to. You were normally willing to talk to just about anyone, but feeling underdressed at a huge wedding where you thought you were the only outsider left you feeling less than worthy.

You poured yourself another glass of wine and took a butter mint, popping it into your mouth. You sucked on it, looking around the slow-to-fill tent to catch a man glancing at you.

He was tall, lanky, and just so happened to be one of the most normally dressed people you had seen all evening. He wore a creamy brown sweater, with darker brown slacks, and a jacket that matched. From where you sat, you could see the faintest stubble on his cheeks and around his mouth. He was leaning on a cane, but didn’t seem to look any older than you since he had sandy brown hair that was long and swept off to the side with not a grey in sight.

A chill ran through you, and you looked away, feeling your face flush. He was handsome, and you decided then and there that at one point during this strange reception, you would talk to him. Needing the eventual confidence, you took another sip, glancing to see if he was still standing there, but he wasn’t.

“So you were the name I didn’t recognize,” said a voice from behind you, followed by a mention of your name.

“Oh!” You nearly jumped out of your skin, setting your wine down before you dropped it on your lap.

“I’m sorry, love! I didn’t mean to startle you!” He gushed, patting your shoulder as he pulled out the chair next to you to sit.

Embarrassed at the way his hand made your shoulder burn, you huffed, “You didn’t startle-”

You turned to look at him, your mouth turning bone dry despite the mint you had been sucking on.

It was the same man that had been staring at you before. Closer up, you could see that he had jagged white lines covering his face. A fresh scratch worked its way down his cheek, sure to leave a scar to match the rest of them. If you looked closer, you could see the tip of a wand sticking out of his jacket pocket. You were wrong.

You blinked, realizing you had been trying to figure out how to melt inside the chocolate that his eyes resembled. You swallowed the mint thickly. “Sorry, um-” you said sheepishly, tucking hair behind your pink-tipped ears. “What did you say your name was?”

You suddenly felt drunk, butterflies filling your belly with tenacity, but your mouth was so dry that you had to take another sip of wine before saying anything else.

“I didn’t,” he said, sitting. “I’m Remus.” He stuck his hand out to capture yours in his with a quick shake. Your eyes flicked to his hand, seeing if it was on fire. He was looking too, your gaze captured in the middle when you both looked up at each other. You pulled your hands away at the same time, Remus making himself busy by hanging his coat and cane on the back of his chair, a smile lingering on his lips.

You stared at the plate in front of you, trying to mentally blame your flush on the amount of wine you had already consumed. “Do uh- Do you know everyone here?” You asked, glancing at him.

Remus blew a puff of air out of his nose, amused as he looked around. “Just about everyone. You?”

“Nobody except for Lily,” you said, grabbing another buttermint to try and sate your dry mouth. “I mean, I know of James, but I spent every summer with Lily when she was home from school.”

“Oh?” Remus said, sitting straighter. He cleared his throat like had gotten something stuck. “Where did you go to school?”

“Saint Grogory’s,” you answered him. You tried to ignore that he was staring at his lap instead of you, his posture still stiff. “Now I work at a cafe while I’m going to the University of London to get my Master’s in English Literature.”

“You can just study that?” He asked quietly, looking at you. Your eyebrows raised with amusement, gathering that he didn’t know you knew about any of them. “Sorry, that’s a daft question,” he said, exasperated. “I mean, that’s really… Um- That’s really neat.” You didn’t say anything, deciding to let the poor wizard flounder. “I’d go to school for… For um… For maths, but I hate maths, so it wouldn’t really-”

“I know that I’m the only muggle here,” you said, eyebrows still raised as your mouth tugged into a smile. “It’d be very hard to think this was a normal muggle wedding. There are candles floating mid air. That doesn’t happen in the muggle world. You know that right?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah.” He visibly relaxed, sending his gaze skyward as his ears started to burn red. “Here I was thinking that I was about to spoil everything.”

“Lily told me the day she got the letter,” you said, smirking as you nudged him. “I sure got you though.”

The heat from Remus’ ears made its way to his face, his cheeks turning crimson as he nodded, looking back at you.

“Wine?” You asked, filling his cup without a response. “How do you know Lily then?”

Remus took his glass before you overfilled it, taking a sip. “We went to school together.”

“Is that where everyone is from?” You asked, and he nodded.

“Mainly,” he said, looking around. “A few from-”

“There you are!” The best man shouted, slapping Remus on the back. He rested his bottom on the table next to his friend. He peered over to you, his grey eyes sparkling. “Magnificent wedding, isn’t it? I heard the house elves did a real bang-up job on the feast too.” He grabbed the near empty bottle of wine, pouring what was maybe a sip into the glass next of him. “Merlin, Moons, you finished it all yourself? Nervous about sitting next to a pretty bird?”

“Sorry, that was me,” you admitted, flushing when the raven-haired man looked back at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“No worries,” he said, waving his hand nonchalantly over the bottle. It filled instantly, and he took it, pouring more into his glass.

You blinked hard, staring at the wine bottle. Grabbing it, you peered inside to make sure it was real. “How’d you do that?”

“Do what?” He asked incredulously. “Do you not know that spell or something?”

Remus took the bottle from you, setting it in front of his friend. He introduced you to his friend, finishing with, “Sirius, this is Lily’s friend from home.”

Sirius paled. “Oh… Fuck.” His hands met his face as he muttered something about James being upset. He looked at you, his face still alarmingly pale as he started taking out his wand. “I’m so sorry, love. Just sit still, and I can help you forget-”

“I just didn’t know that you could do magic with your hands,” you said, still staring at the wine bottle. “I thought you always needed a wand.”

Sirius shook his head, the color slightly returning to his face as he deadpanned, “What?”

“She knows we’re all wizards, you plank,” Remus sighed, drinking his wine. “Put your wand away.”

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief, a smile breaking his face. “Oh, good! Brilliant! Ignore that comment then.” He pocketed his wand then turned to his friend. “Have you got a light and a ciggy?”

Remus huffed, patting the table in front of you. “Excuse us for just a moment, will you?” He grabbed his cane, slipped on his coat, and he and Sirius went off to smoke.

Sirius was right. Dinner was magnificent, as well at the people who sat with you. Remus was back in time to introduce you to them all. Frank and Alice, who said they were going to have the next wedding, were the same people you sat next to during the ceremony. Next to them sat Marlene and Dorcas. Marlene had a bright smile and a head full of white blonde hair that hardly ever left Dorcas’ tanned shoulder. On the other side of Frank sat Peter, who looked to be the youngest of the group with his baby-faced cheeks.

The wine was passed and refilled a few more times as the night went on, as well as special cocktails, feuling riveting conversations amongst the wizards and witches. You decided to listen, taking in everything the boys were talking about. From the legalization of recreational boomslang to the crackdown on broom riding. Eventually, their conversation hushed down to mumbles and whispers.

Dorcas, Marlene, and Alice, however, were busily chatting about her wedding and how excited she was to finally marry Frank. They eventually roped you in on their conversation, asking your opinion about what would be better: live unicorns or a toad choir. Of course, you chose unicorns which had the girls roaring in laughter.

By the time that James and Lily danced their first dance, you felt good, and that wasn’t including the way you brushed up against Remus’s side as you stood alongside your newfound friends.

“We’re gettin’ drinks then goin’ to dance,” you slurred, the butterflies reemerging as he looked at you. “You want me t’ grab you somethin’? ‘M gettin’ water.”

He shook his head, pushing himself up from the chair. “I’ll come with you.”

“You sure?” You asked, watching him grab his cane and coat and nod a goodbye to Frank and Peter. “‘S not a big deal f’ me-”

“I insist,” Remus said, walking past you, slightly turning over his shoulder. “Come on then.”

You caught up, trying not to stumble alongside him. Focused on him, the two of you walked straight past the drink table.

As if Remus could sense your reminder, he said, “I want to show you something quick,” and led you out of the tent into the dusky lawn.

You didn’t protest, rather you felt bad for him, his nose scrunching every time he took a step. You lightly hooked your arm in his, your hand resting on his bicep.

“You ‘right?” You asked, feeling dumb as the words left your mouth. “‘M sorry. That was rude.”

“It’s a valid question,” he reassured you with a soft nudge of his elbow. “Hip just acts up sometimes. I’ll live,” he said, glancing at you as you pressed your cheek against his arm. “Are you okay?”

You sighed. “Yeah.” You moved off his arm, rubbing the side of your face that touched him, praying there wasn’t a burn mark. “I think I overshot.”

“You were drinking a lot of wine,” he snorted, opening a large manor door for you. “Do you need some water?” You entered, and he followed you, offering you his arm again. “A sober up potion?”

“The latter,” you said, desperate to feel the burning in your hand again as you hooked onto him. “‘M gonna hurl if I drink anymore.”

“We don’t want that.” Remus led you down a long hallway in the expansive manor. Marble floors and large columns made up the hallway, breaking off into the entryway and the living room. The two of you passed the huge, bustling kitchen and came to a double door.

“Here,” Remus said, nudging the door open slightly. “You go wait in there while I go find that potion, alright love?”

You nodded and the corner of his mouth tugged into a half smile. You watched him, entering the door he had nudged open.

You could’ve dropped dead on the spot, and you would’ve died the happiest lady on the planet. Books covered the walls up to the ceilings, lit by the large moon as it rose over the manor.

You stepped closer to the shelves, tickling the spines when you noticed that they weren’t just books. There were books on runes, books with fur, and books that were quietly whispering.

You picked up a shiny book, cracking it open. While nothing popped out, the book began shouting. You screamed and quickly slammed it shut, putting it back. Your heart beat out of your chest as you picked up another one, finding ice cold air blowing out of it as soon as you opened it. The third book you picked up had a plaid spine, and looked safe. The cover read, “Frankenstein's Monster: Did It Actually Happen?” You held it to your chest and sighed, breathing in the dusty, papery scent.

You could live here, and nobody would know. You could nestle in amongst the shelves, hiding in the hole until all the books were read. Feeling drunk and overwhelmingly happy, you sighed again, closing your eyes as you plopped down on the sofa.

“Do you like it?” Remus asked from the door.

“I think I’m in love,” you replied dreamily, turning to look at him. “Has anyone read all of ‘em?”

“James said his dad was working through them,” he said, sitting down on the sofa. He handed you the potion. “I think he got about halfway through before he gave up.”

“God,” you said, looking around. “I’d try to read ‘em all.” You smelled the potion, instantly recoiling with a gag. “‘M not drinkin’ this.”

“It just smells bad,” he said, an amused smile gracing his face. “Drink it and you’ll feel better.”

You sighed, grumbled, “Fine,” and downed the potion like a shot.

Remus lied to you. It tasted just as bad as it smelled, but it worked. You felt all the drunkenness leave you like it was being siphoned out of your body. You sat up straighter, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Better?” Remus asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Much,” you said, smiling as you looked at him. “Thank you.”

Despite not being drunk, you still felt the butterflies in your stomach as he matched your toothy grin, glancing at the book in your hands. “Are you going to steal that?” He teased.

“I’d like to,” you admitted, reading the first page to yourself. “It’s the first book that hasn’t done something.”

“I’m sure Fleamont wouldn’t care,” he said, his fingers dancing against yours as he took the book from you, pocketing it in his coat. “I can hold onto it for now. Until you leave, of course.”

“I suppose I should probably get back and say goodbye to everyone,” you said, standing and smoothing out your dress over your thighs. “The last bus leaves in an hour, and I still have to see Lily.”

Quietly, Remus nodded, standing alongside you. He offered you his arm again, and even though you weren't stumbling, you took his desperately, letting him lead you back out of the manor.

“Moon’s really big,” you said, looking up at the moon that shone orange in the sky. “Must be full.”

Remus winced, glancing at you to see if you noticed, finding you still staring. “There was a full harvest moon a few nights ago. If you look, you can see it waning.”

You narrowed your eyes trying to see what he was talking about. “Do you like the moon or something?”

“I-” He paused, catching you already looking up at him. “Sure.”

“I like the sun more,” you admitted, looking back at the moon. “The moon is fine, but without the sun, it’s just another dark rock.” You glanced at him to catch him staring at the moon, a grimace on his face.

Before you could say anything, a sharp squeal followed a flurry of red hair that was barreling toward you.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I thought you left already!” Lily shouted, picking you up and spinning you around. She held you at arms length. “Look at you!”

“I wouldn’t have left without saying anything to my favorite girl!” You beamed, taking in your Lily. “You... you look radiant.”

“Oh, pish,” Lily said, waving her hand in the air. She looked at Remus, who was still staring at the sky as if to give you and Lily your space. “Hi, space man,” she cooed at him, causing Remus to look at her, a tight smile on his face. She reached up, squishing his cheek between her fingers. “I’m stealing her from you.”

“Be my guest,” he said, pulling cigarettes out of his pocket. “I’ll be in there in a minute,” he said more to you than to Lily.

“That’s a nasty habit, Lupin,” Lily sighed like she had said it about a million times.

“Really? That’s funny,” he said, lighting a cigarette and holding out the pack to the three other men coming toward him. “Seems as though the other Potter likes it.”

You smiled as Lily pulled you away toward the tent, grumbling about James being irresponsible and how she was going to have to have a little chat with him later.

“Oh, you love him,” you cooed, and Lily sighed heavily.

“Very much so.” She turned the two of you around, gazing at the group of four boys all smoking and chatting away. “I mean look at him,” she mumbled to you. “I just want to hit that cigarette out of his hand and scream at him until my throat bleeds, but God, I just want to kiss him until he chokes, and I love him, and I just wish I could-”

While Lily continued to tell you about all the things she loved about her new husband, you couldn’t help but to look at Remus whose face was pulled in a genuine smile as James and Sirius began loudly talking about God knows what. The way he threw his head back as he laughed had your cheeks flushing, and this time, you couldn’t blame the wine.

“He’s cute,” you blurted, sensing Lily following your gaze.

“Remus?” She asked, and you confirmed with a short nod.

“He took me into the library,” you said, looking at Lily. “He’s got a book in his pocket for me.”

“Really…” She said, sounding far off as she continued looking at the group of boys. “It makes a lot of sense…”

“What does?” You could hear your heartbeat in your ears watching the way she smiled, knowing she made eye contact with one of them.

“You and Remus,” she said, looking at you with the same smile. “You should give him your number.”

“Lily,” you groaned and she grabbed your arm, leaning in.

“He wouldn’t have looked over here at least four times if he didn’t want it,” she whispered, a fiery look in her eye when you began to protest with pink cheeks. “He lives in muggle London. He owns a phone.”

You huffed. “Fine.”

Lily’s smize turned giddy as she gave you a napkin, your number already written on it. “I’ve had this in my pocket since I saw you sitting next to him.”

“You’re a minx,” you hissed, taking the napkin. You checked your watch and sighed. “You planned this out so I couldn’t say no, didn’t you?”

The glint in Lily’s eye said it all as she threw her arms around you. “I’ll see you soon. I can come round your flat, and we can watch movies, and we can have a proper girl’s night, alright?”

You squeezed her tightly. “That sounds amazing, Lils. I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you!” She said, pulling away. A mischievous grin grew on her face as she pushed you forward. “Now go get ‘em, tiger!”

You stumbled forward, throwing Lily a scrunched nose over your shoulder. She met it with a thumbs up and a cheeky smile before James snuck up behind her, batting him away as he tried to kiss her.

You laughed to yourself, shaking your head. You could only hope to have a love like Lily and James one day.

The napkin in your hand grew increasingly damp the closer you got to Remus. He was still standing outside nursing a cider that one of his friends must’ve given him. You stepped outside of the tent, siding up to him.

“Hey, you!” Remus said, nudging you with his elbow. “Are you heading out?”

“I am!” You said, the napkin becoming damp in your hands. “Bus leaves soon, and I need to catch it before I’m stranded here.”

“Alright,” he said, grabbing the book from his pocket. “Here you are.”

You took it, smiling while you looked at it. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

The two of you became quiet, not knowing what to do next. A handshake would’ve been proper, you thought, considering you had just met him and he took you under his wing for the night.

You panicked and stuck out your napkin-filled hand without saying anything. He looked at you with furrowed brows then took your hand, the burning sensation filling you from the tips of your fingers straight to your chest.

“It was really nice to meet you, Remus,” you said, pulling away and leaving the napkin in his hand.

You turned around before he could say anything, head down as you walked quickly down the Manor drive, hoping the scorched feeling in your hands would never go away.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x muggle!fem!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin meet cute #remus lupin imagine #harvest moon

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yeagerfate · 10 months

Text

YELLOW MORNINGS

Summary: Your parents make you ride on the bus on the first day at your new highschool. You soon realize that this bus is full of both kids you’re scared of and want to be friends with. Who’s on it, and what are they like? + Headcanons on what they’re like in school.

Warnings: None. This is fluff and slight crack! Also, reader is a minor in this and Miguel’s is platonic since he’s a grown ass adult and reader’s 15. (Every other character in this is assumed to be either 15 or 16.) Additionally, the sketchbook thing mentioned in Miles’ is a true story. That actually happened at my school LMFAO

Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Miles Morales (Earth-1610), Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabhakar, and Gabriela O’Hara gets her own little feature in Miguel’s.

Notes: I’m a bit nervous for how this’ll go, but I’m excited for its reception, since I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone write this before. Anyways, thank you guys so much for all the love on my posts. From the bottom of my heart it means so so much to me. I have always loved writing, but it’s a hobby I’m really shy about. Your support really helps me come out of my shell more, which is greatly appreciated. You all are awesome and I love being in this fandom so much. It is so so much fun!

MIGUEL O’HARA

is the angry bus driver that beeps at you four times despite you walking towards the bus in his direct line of sight. He says “good morning” to you in a gruff, tired voice and tells you to just sit down and not cause trouble. As you walk in the aisle of the bus, you can see his daughter in the front seat right behind his, wearing the school uniform for the private elementary school down the street from your high school. She’s sipping on apple juice while holding a bag of chocolate chip mini muffins, staring out the window blankly. When he drops you off at the high school, he tells you to stay out of trouble. The questioning look you give him makes him sigh exasperatedly before telling you to have a good day. Maybe he isn’t so bad?

MILES MORALES

Is staring at the black sketchbook in his hands thoughtfully before he makes eye contact with you. He smiles politely and waves at you, but doesn’t say anything else. When you sit with him, he places the sketchbook on his lap and asks your name. He seems grateful for your presence and tells you it’s been ages since someone new has been assigned to this particular bus. Suddenly, he asks you for your schedule, and is elated when he sees you have biology class together. Though, he lets out a pitiful sigh when he sees who you have for Algebra II. “Good luck with her,” Miles says. “She took away my sketchbook last year because she thought it was a phone.” Miles is always asking you to go to his basketball games on the weekends. He’ll even give you his jersey to wear to cheer him on. Also, if you ever need help on homework, he’s your guy. Especially if it’s math related.

HOBIE BROWN

Has his expensive looking Sony headphones on, and his foot is bouncing to the beat of the song he’s listening to. He nods at you, and waves you over once he sees that all the other seats are taken. You are taken aback by his eccentric fashion style. He asks if you’re new. When you say yes, he tells you which teachers to specifically avoid. The next day, he brings in his earbuds so you both can listen to his music. Hobie is always snacking on the bus, and makes sure to bring you some food too, even if you already have some. Gets yelled at by Miguel for not sitting in his seat (He’s just tall. He does sit.) Even though he’s pretty much always a respectful student, he repeatedly arrives on the bus with detention slips for shadow boxing. Also got suspended for a week for piercing people’s noses in the bathrooms during third period. Oh well!

GWEN STACY

Is quietly scrolling on her phone before she makes eye contact with you. She’s the only other girl in the back of the bus, so you decide to sit with her. Gwen seems shy, so you are the one to make conversation. You quickly find out that she’s a catcher on the softball team and is in a band with Hobie, the kid in the seat next to yours. Gwen informs you of all of the school’s drama from the year before, including the time she got an ISS for giving girls ibuprofen for their period cramps. Regardless of this, she tells you, “I still have it in my bag. If you need it, just ask.” She also sends you the quizlets she makes for the Spanish class you have together. Frequently, Gwen gives you gum, but it is a silent exchange as to prevent the other students from asking for it as well. She is a very generous person.

PAVITR PRABHAKAR

Is fiddling with his bright school bag before he insists that you sit with him. He is a talker, and tells you all about himself. He urges you to join theatre for the winter musical, which is apparently “The best school event of the year!”. Pavitr is very involved with the school, and is the president of the theatre club, the secretary of the choir club, and is starting a culture club this year. He tells you to sit with him at lunch kindly. Though, his pleasant rant is interrupted when he tells you to avoid the lunch lady whose name is Linda. His reasoning is that, “She argued with me over chai tea.” which you laugh boisterously at. Although Pavitr has a somewhat ingenuous spirit, he forges your mother’s signature on a detention slip you got for going to the bathroom despite your English teacher’s hard “No.” He’s always going out of his way to help you!

WHAT IS IT LIKE TO BE FRIENDS WITH THEM?

Miles is known as one of the best players on the basketball team. Even though he doesn’t bounce it in the hallways, teachers are always telling him to put the basketball in his hands away, which irritates him to no end. Although teachers adore him, they always have to tell him to turn his phone off because it’s always buzzing from Snapchat notifications. He trades food with people at lunch and is on the Robotics team. Miles is one of the only two in the friend group who hasn’t gotten a detention. Is the only boy in your P.E. class who doesn’t treat it like the olympics and makes sure everyone has a good time. Cried once on FaceTime with you because out of stress he drew a dick on his AP Calc packet and forgot to erase it before turning it in. Unironically, Miles will play mermaids with you in the pool.

Hobie has both girls and boys fawning over him all the time, and people are constantly asking for his number. Never pays attention in class but passes. Hobie’s a “C’s get degrees” type of person, regardless of how well he does in school. For school spirit week, instead of bringing a backpack, he brings a Walmart shopping cart. Makes people laugh in class, but does it respectfully to not piss off the teacher. Teachers get sick of how often you pair up with each other for group projects but he tells them you’re a package deal and that you can’t be separated. Once you get your driver’s license, you make him check your parking jobs. He proceeds to ask you who gave you your license. Grew from 5’9 to 6’5 in the span of a school year and was always asking when second lunch was.

Gwen wasn’t on the bus last year, so she was introduced to the friend group because of her role on the theatre’s stage crew. It’s how she met Pavitr, who played the leading role in the Spring musical. To her dismay, her hydro-flask always falls off her desk, which makes such a loud clang she almost cries. Gwen’s locker is messy, with little magnets all over it. Has the best handwriting you’ve ever seen. Says random Disney bully quotes like, “I’ll kick you into next week if ya don’t give me your lunch!” when she sees you in the hallway. When she gets partnered up with you for a lab, she makes sure you finish before everyone else so you can just chill. Gwen always gets you a snack at the vending machine before any class you have together. She paints your nails in the back of the class.

Pavitr is a straight A student. People think he’s stuck in 2016 because he still wears those bands that you slap on your wrist. Gives people haircuts during break time, and wants to become a hairdresser when he’s older. During a fire drill he got yelled at because he stopped, dropped, and rolled for no reason. Tears fall from his eyes frequently because he holds in coughs in class. Jokingly put in a quote from the Lorax for his senior quote when he was on the yearbook team but forgot to take it out. His senior quote is, “Let it grow.” Pav fake falls in class but nobody suspects a thing because they think he’s innocent. He screamed with you when he saw a spider. Gets out of getting in trouble for being late because he got everyone Starbucks. (He got you a cake pop)

#atsv x reader #atsv fluff #itsv x reader #itsv fluff #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miles morales fluff #miles morales x reader #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy fluff #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar fluff #across the spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse x reader

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ladymercury8 · 2 years

Text

A Vintage Love | Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: Steve Harrington used to be your best-friend. Then he broke your heart. Then he became your kid brother's babysitter? And now you're chasing giant cat-eating lizards around Hawkins together. [3.5k]

Warnings: S2 SPOILERS! Enemies-ish to lovers. Cursing. Way too many Star Wars references.

Credits to 10 Things I Hate About You for one minor spiel.

❃❃❃❃❃

“Y/N!!!” Dustin yelled, fist repeatedly slamming on your bedroom door, the hinges painfully squeaking for mercy.

You sighed, pushing your headphones off and slinging them around your neck. Subtly slamming your hand against your desk before getting up, you flung the door open with a harsh, “What, doofus?! You’ll break my door down, again!”

Yet your expression and confidence faltered when you saw Steve Harrington next to him. Your childhood best friend (until he became a popular dick), your longtime crush, and your baby brother’s… babysitter?

He was wearing a wrinkled gray jacket over a navy shirt, a pair of tight light-blue jeans hugging his muscular legs – because, holy shit, he was a man, not the scraggly teenager you used to tackle.

And Steve’s heart strings tugged at seeing you after so long. The same, beautiful face. The same eyes. The same nerdy fashion style from before: an Indiana Jones shirt underneath a light vest.

❃❃❃❃❃

You and Steve had grown up together. ‘Glued by the hip’, one could say. Every waking moment was spent in the other’s presence. Walking to school. Sitting next to each other in class. Going to the movies. Lazing at his pool. Rollerblading.

It was a special bond. An affectionate one, filled with hand holding and sun-kissed cheeks; playful shoving and name-calling.

Until one fated day: the start of high school.

With teenage hormones raging, testosterone flooding every ounce of his body, reaching every receptive gland, Steve Harrington wanted recognition.

He wanted, for once in his life, to be noticed – if not by his parents, why not his generation. He wanted a name for himself, a title.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about all that. You were content with what you had, eager to join the reputed Hellfire Club, disregarding whatever labels would be stuck on to you.

And Steve was content, too. He adored you.

But he wanted more. And life bears sacrifices.

He made it perfectly clear on that first day of school, during lunch. You walked up to him, a tray in your hands and a grin on your dimpled face, only to be sneered at by Tommy and Carol.

The most painful expression beset your features as you retreated: pure heartbreak. He saw the way your hands shook when you dropped your tray on an empty table, the liquid pooling in your eyes as you bolted off.

Steve’s chest physically ached. He felt nauseous, overwhelmed. Like his body was fighting against him, trying to stop him from making a big mistake.

He ran after you. But when he heard your cries echoing from the girl’s bathroom, he felt a stake being driven through his heart. A stake made of your devastation. Piercing his taut flesh, cutting every artery and vein, rupturing the sack of cardiac muscle, dislodging itself through his back.

And so he panicked. And so he ran away.

For years, Steve had regretted losing you – losing you for some overrated popularity bullshit, primitive constructs that matter so much to insecure teenagers. And the remorse only hit harder whenever he saw you strolling the school hallways alone, or being pushed against a locker for wearing Star Wars merchandise.

If only he could turn back time.

❃❃❃❃❃

You looked expectantly at Dustin, one hand on your hip.

“There’s a baby demogorgon roaming around Hawkins, his face opened up and he ate Mews, Steve and I are gonna hunt him down, and we need your help,” Dustin rambled. Steve watched in quiet amusement at the expressions flying across your face in rapid succession: confusion, disbelief, grief.

“You’re our only hope,” Dustin added, knowing the reference would win you over.

You knew about the Upside-Down. You had helped search for Will, and then Dustin told you about everything that went down: demogorgons and other dimensions and a bald child named Eleven.

“Mews?” You whimpered out. Dustin nodded solemnly, lips pressed together. You exhaled a sigh, pressing your hand to your temple before shouting, “Son of a bitch, the fuck are you waiting for then! Let’s go! I’ll meet you in the car.” You ushered them out with your hands, at the last minute grabbing Dustin by the collar of his shirt, pulling him so that you could whisper in his ear.

“The fuck is Steve Harrington doing here?” You hissed, teeth clenched.

“I thought you two were friends,” Dustin shrugged.

“Past tense, brother dear.”

“Look, I issued a code red, alright?” Dustin gestured to his headgear. “And nobody else was available. He was my last resort.”

You gently rolled your eyes, slapping him lightly against the head, muttering a short “gimme a sec.”

You pulled on some more decent clothing: jeans, loose sweater, jacket, Nike sneakers. The bangles on your wrist jiggled, blue and green and purple like all the lightsabers of the rainbow; headphones slung around your neck.

You sprinted to the car, jumping in the back. Steve tried to forced Dustin to move, to let you have shotgun, rambling about getting some more humility and learning some manners – all to no avail.

Steve’s eyes hadn’t left you since he saw you locking the door to your house, tracing you longingly, knowingly. He knew your gait better than his own. Recognized the sneakers on your feet, the same pair you bought years ago, creased and muddy. The chain around your neck that you slept with.

“You sure you don’t want shotgun?” Steve looked in the rearview mirror at you.

“I’m good,” you smiled softly, leaning back, feet on the console. Your nose instantly scrunched up in disgust, “Jesus, Steve, it stinks. You hiding a body back here?”

The boy chuckled, scratching his chin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know it, Henderson.”

“It’s bait,” Dustin explained, though you were perfectly content with the banter. “And stop flirting, it’s disgusting.”

“Necrophilia, too, Harrington?” You picked up some bent and damaged roses haphazardly discarded on the back seat, continuing to egg him on much to Dustin’s dismay. A rumble of a laugh bloomed from Steve’s throat.

He really missed you.

Though you didn’t speak another word during the ride, opting to stare out the window and play with the soft rose petals while Dustin rambled on and on, Steve couldn’t keep his gaze off you. He shot fleeting glances at the mirror every few seconds, just to make sure you were still there. That he wasn’t dreaming of a vintage love.

And he suddenly thought the roses suited you much better than Nancy.

❃❃❃❃❃

You walked ahead of the boys, can in your left hand, flinging bits of meat around you with your right, headphones tightly clasped over your ears.

Behind you, the boys were having a quiet conversation that you didn’t even notice, too distracted and deafened by the music blasting in your ears.

“All right, so let me get this straight,” Steve started, confounded, chucking scraps of raw meat around, “You kept something you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl… who you just met?”

“All right, that’s grossly oversimplifying things,” Dustin defended.

“I mean, why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” Steve scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“An interdimensional slug?” Dustin grinned. “Because it’s awesome!”

“Well, even if she thought it was cool, which she didn’t, I… I just… I don’t know. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard.”

Dustin looked at the ground, the hint of a frown on his eyebrows. “Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, all right?”

“It’s not about the hair, man. The key with girls is just… just acting like you don’t care.” Steve’s eyes were fixated in front of him on the tracks, on his surroundings, absentmindedly chucking meat.

“Even if you do?” Dustin asked, minor bafflement in his tone.

“Yeah, exactly,” Steve nodded. “It drives them nuts.”

“Then what?”

“You just wait until, uh… until you feel it.” Steve nudged Dustin with his elbow.

“Feel what?”

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh…” Steve squinted in thought, “electricity, you know?”

Dustin nodded. This was, after all, his area of expertise. “Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Steve shook his head, hair bouncing. “Like a- like a- like a sexual electricity.”

“Oh.”

“You feel that,” Steve pointed a finger, “and then you make your move.”

“So that’s when you kiss her?”

“No, woah, woah, woah! Slow down, Romeo.”

“Sorry.”

“Sure, OK, some girls, yeah, they want you to be aggressive. You know, strong, hot and heavy, like a… I don’t know, a lion.”

“Mhmmm.”

“But others, you gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy, like a… like a ninja.”

“What type is Y/N?”

“What?!” Steve stopped dead in his tracks, turning to Dustin.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Dustin asked nonchalantly, a blend of sheepish and confident.

“And what makes you say that, Henderson?” Steve squinted at the boy, a pink dust sprinkling on his cheeks.

“I don’t know. I just remember when I was young. You came over all the time. And you always stared at her. And you were always chasing her,” Dustin counted off on his fingers.

Steve gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing, feelings that never truly vanished suddenly resurfacing like a tsunami wave.

Dustin’s lips curved into an ‘o’ shape, understanding hitting him, “so that’s why you two stopped hanging out. Making her think that you don’t care. I got ya-”

“No, no. Y/N/N’s different,” Steve interrupted. “Ignoring her doesn’t win her over, that’s not why- that was my mist- She’s different than other girls.”

“Yeah, she seems pretty special, I guess.” The only image in Dustin’s head being that one Halloween when you dressed up as Chewbacca and forced him to be an ewok.

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Steve affirmed, gaze resting on your figure. The light swaying of your hips and shoulders as you danced to a tune only you could hear. But damn, when did you get so curvy? And hot?

“But this girl’s special, too, you know,” Dustin added, talking about a whole different type of ‘special.’ “It’s just, like, something about her.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Hey, hey, hey.” Steve paused, arm extended.

“What?” Dustin halted at his side.

“You’re not falling in love with this girl, are you?” Steve’s eyes bore into Dustin, stern and serious.

“Uh, no. No.” Dustin shook his head vehemently.

“Come on, you two!” You yelled, turning around and seeing them a dozen feet away from you, huddled together. “Otherwise we’ll be lizard feed soon!”

Steve waved in assent and recognition, continuing to walk, still talking to Dustin, “OK, good… Don’t.”

“I won’t.”

“She’s only gonna break your heart, and you’re way too young for that shit.” Eyes glossed over. A visceral pain emerging.

A solemn expression grew on Dustin’s face, which Steve adroitly noticed. His heart softened. He remembered the same expression on your face.

“Fabergé,” Steve spoke into the silence.

“What?”

Steve pointed to his hair. “It’s Fabergé Organics. Use the shampoo and conditioner, and when your hair’s damp- it’s not wet, OK? When it’s damp…”

“Damp.”

“You do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray,” Steve shyly finished.

“Farah Fawcett spray?” Dustin chortled.

“Yeah, Farah Fawcett. You tell anyone I just told you that, and your ass is grass. You’re dead, Henderson. Do you understand?”

“Yup.”

“OK.”

The two continued walking, flinging meat.

“Farah Fawcett, really?” Dustin questioned. “Y/N uses that.”

“I mean, they’re both hot.”

Dustin shot Steve a slightly disgusted yet bemused look.

❃❃❃❃❃

The three of you emerged from the thick of the woods into an abandoned field, a few broken down vehicles scattered about including a bus. You placed the headphones around your neck, scanning your surroundings.

Having donned his sunglasses, Steve nodded while looking around. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, this will do. This will do just fine. Good call, dude.”

Dustin beamed, and you ruffled his curls before a shrill voice called out: “I said medium-well!”

It was Lucas, and next to him a red-haired young girl.

“Who’s that?” You asked, and when Dustin scowled Steve instantly understood.

Extending your hand in greeting, you quickly acquainted yourself with Max Mayfield, more commonly known as Mad Max. A few jokes later, you already liked her, and the two of you instantly got to work, collecting scraps of metal and piling them around the bus, creating a fortification. After watching you discreetly, Steve joined in. Dustin and Lucas, on the other hand, were crouched behind some car, bickering in whispers.

Strolling past, Steve hit the car with a metal chair. “Hey! Dickheads! How come the only ones helping me out are Y/N/N and this random girl? We lose light in 40 minutes. Let’s go. Let’s go, I said!”

“Alright, asshole! God!” Dustin huffed out, simultaneous with Lucas’, “OK! Stupid!”

You all started throwing metal sheets onto a pile, piling it along the bus, rolling barrels, spreading gasoline around. You couldn’t help but revel in the sight of Steve: sweaty, rubbing his forehead with his sleeve, muscles bulging against the cloth of his clothes, jeans increasingly tighter.

You strolled over to a distant hedge to search for more scraps, and at watching you walk off Dustin nudged Steve with his elbow, gesturing with his head to follow you. For all his nagging, your little shithead of a brother happened to be quite protective over you. Steve pretended to roll his eyes, but like a lovesick puppy jogged over, muttering, “alright, alright.”

“Shit,” he heard you hiss. You were crouched down, examining a trail of blood seeping from your hand.

“Hey, you alright?” Steve acknowledged the way you tensed up at his voice, breath freezing in your lungs before that gorgeous smile of yours returned, albeit subdued.

“Sharp,” you pointed to a discarded car door.

“Here, let me.” Steve unzipped his jacket, untucking his shirt and ripping a piece off, despite your vehement protests. He crouched down next to you, head low as he wrapped your hand gently. Small mumbles of “sorry” when you winced at his applied pressure to tie it off. The linger of his hand on yours, the minor sweep of his thumb over your knuckles, like a caress.

“Thanks,” you said. A silence grew. You sat on the little mound of hill, turned towards the setting sun. Steve followed, a slight distance away from you.

After a moment: “Her name’s Max, by the way.”

“Huh?” Steve asked, head turning to you, eyes meeting for the first time.

“Random girl. She’s called Max.”

“Oh, right, right.” Steve nodded, looking into the distance, squinting at the sun. Where were his sunglasses now that he needed them?

“How have you been doing?” You asked timidly, bending your knees in front of your chest and hugging them.

“Aside from chasing giant lizards, you mean?” You giggled, and Steve’s ears marveled at the music. “Yeah, not exactly how I planned to spend my week.”

“I’m glad you’re here, though.” You smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly, bangles sliding down towards your elbow.

Steve wanted to say so much: I’m sorry I ever left, I’m not that thrilled about putting you in danger, I’m an oblivious and selfish prick. But Dustin’s shouting for you to return stopped him. Steve stuck out a calloused hand, helping you up. Despite his support, you still managed to trip on a scattered pebble, falling into his chest.

“Easy,” Steve hummed. Your perfume was intoxicating. Your hair tickled his neck. “You always were clumsy, Henderson.”

“Guilty as charged,” you pushed off, surprised at the firmness of Steve’s chest. That wasn’t what middle-school-Steve felt like.

The pair of you walked into the bus. A golden sun setting behind you. A dark and scary night rising.

While Lucas was on the roof, serving as lookout with binoculars glued to his eyes, the rest of you were in the body of the bus. Max on the back seat; Dustin pacing around; you and Steve side by side on the floor. He kept flicking his lighter, an unbearable waiting tension. Palpable, hard on your chest.

“So, you really fought one of these things before?” Max broke the crisp silence.

Steve nodded.

“And you’re, like, totally 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“Shit. Don’t be an idiot, OK?” Dustin spoke, annoyed. “It wasn’t a bear. Why are you even here if you don’t believe us? Just go home.”

“Dustin!” You scolded, shooting him a shocked look, eyes wide.

Max was, naturally, taken aback. “Geesh, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” She crawled up the ladder, next to Lucas.

“The hell has gotten into you?” You asked him, kicking his shin with your shoe.

“Steve told me to show Max that I don’t care,” he shrugged.

“You what?!” You turned to Steve.

Steve stuttered, mouth gaping like a fish out of water, “I-I-I just.”

“That’s the advice you gave him?” You scoffed.

“I’ll be over there… somewhere,” Dustin squeezed away to the front of the trailer, peeking out of the metal holes.

“So that’s your tactic, is it? Is that why you left me, too?” Fury and sorrow taking control of your brain, your actions. You were a puppet in your mind’s hands. “This whole time, were you just pretending that you didn’t care, or did you actually not give a fuck? Because it sure as hell felt like the latter.”

“No, no, no, that’s not-”

“All I ever wanted, Steve, was for you to see me,” you confessed, whispering into the cold night air, unaware of your actions. Tears welled in your eyes, all you could see was blurry redness. Your voice choked up, suffocating.

Steve was silent for a moment. But he caught your words. They didn’t float off. They didn’t ricochet back. They were caught, embraced, and reciprocated: “I never laid eyes off of you.”

Startled, you turned to him, breath catching in your throat.

“Y/N/N, listen to me,” Steve grabbed your hands in his, gentler with the wounded one, searching for your eyes which expertly avoided his. “I made a mistake. A big mistake. Which I- I can’t take back. And I’m sorry. Alright?” You started to pull your hands away, but he gripped them tighter. “I know that means bullshit but I- look, you didn’t deserve any of it, OK? And the advice? It’s shit advice. Cause you’re not like other girls. You’re special. And I’m a blind dumbass. And I care fo- screw it, I love you… too damn much.”

Chest huffing, jaw trembling, the odd tear falling down your cheek, Steve’s calloused thumb rubbing it away before it could slide over the bump of your cheekbone. You finally brought your eyes to his - his dark brown forests of sincerity and pain.

“I love you, too, Steve Harrington,” you voiced. “I always have. But I also hate you.” Your jaw trembled. “I hate everything about you: the way your hair is always so goddamn perfect, the way you make me laugh… and the fact that you broke my heart.”

He went to interrupt you, but you placed your finger against his lips. “A-and most of all, Harrington, I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not at all. After everything, not even a little bit.”

You moved your finger away. It felt like a weight had fallen off your chest, but had somehow latched itself to your foot, pulling you down into an endless chasm. Fat tears cascading down your cheeks. Drowning you.

Until Steve cut the silence.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

You swallowed, eyelashes wet, emotions rampaging. The adrenaline of confessions erupting.

“Then do it.”

In one swift movement Steve cupped your neck, pulling you against him. You were on your knees, practically straddling him, palms flat against his firm chest. His lips desperately found yours, years of sorrow and loneliness forcefully emerging.

His fingers dug into your skin, your nails latched onto the fabric of his jacket. Neither of you wanted to lose the other. To let go even for a second. For fear that the other would fall into the void, travel to another galaxy, get lost in the vacuum of space.

Pulling away, you brought your forehead to Steve’s, eyes locked together, panting breaths hitting each other. His fingers traced your hairline, the contours of your face, your neck. His jacket bunched in your tight fists.

“Don’t you ever leave me again. I swear on my mother, I’ll kill you, Harrington,” you spoke under your breath, stance not faltering.

Steve flashed his lopsided grin, “If I do, I’ll hand you the gun before going.”

“It’ll probably be your nail-bat,” you giggled, scanning his face. The curve of his nose, the moles scattered like raindrops, the waves of hair.

His expression turned serious, nose bumping against your own as he whispered against your lips: “I won’t. I promise. I love you.”

“I know,” you couldn’t help from saying.

“Ahhh! My eyes!” Dustin yelled from the front, shielding his face with his arms. “Son of a bitch, Steve!”

❃❃❃❃❃

Thanks for reading! x

#lady writes #fallingintofiction #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things s4 #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #1980s #joe keery #joe keery imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot

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seokgyuu · 10 months

Text

→ PAIRING: Jihoon/Woozi x Reader.

→ GENRE: Smut MDNI!!

→ SYNOPSIS: When Jihoon video calls you from the gym in a very specific angle, there isn’t much else to do than drive to the gym take what you want.

→ WARNINGS: reader has female anatomy, gendered terms (good girl) basically public sex, blowjob, soft!dom jihoon, degradation (name calling: slut, whore, reader gets called pathetic) face-fucking, multiple orgasms, cum eating, mentions of cockwarming, masturbation (f), pussy slapping, unprotected sex (stay safe everyone!!!) mirror sex, creampie (if there is something I missed pls lmk!!)

→ WORDCOUNT: 2.4k

a/n: hii guys, i watched yesterday’s live and it altered my brain so pls take this and enjoy <3. credit for the header go to my beloved @playmetheclassics & a special shout-out goes to @angelwoozi for reading this through and giving me the best comments ever 🫶🏻

Your boyfriend wasn’t exactly someone with the biggest rizz. The fact you even got together had been entirely your effort in the beginning. Not because he hadn’t been interested but because he couldn’t exactly read the room properly. Your flirting was mistaken as friendliness. Your touches were mistaken as something you just did sometimes. You had to literally spell it out for him to understand and even then it had taken him two full days to muster up the courage to come to your apartment and claim you as his.

Now, a year into the relationship, he still didn’t have much rizz - or at least not on purpose. He also still didn’t know how to read the room. Perhaps it had gotten slightly better, but not to an extent you could actually describe as aware of his surroundings and situations.

That was why right now, as you just finished another day of work, your phone propped in the holder in you car, you stared at Jihoon with your mouth slightly dropped. He had called you from the gym, the phone positioned in a way you usually knew from being in between his legs, his cock buried down your throat. His fluffy hair was looking extra cute today, which was in stark contrast to the way he sat on the bench press, legs spread and arms on display. He was just telling you about his day, about how one of the kids he taught at the local middle school had told him he sounded like an old man and how he now felt like an old man.

You had started your car and began driving to his gym the second he had shown up on your screen and he had absolutely no idea. You held the conversation, your thighs pressing together at every stop sign, every red light. Your underwear was sticking to your core because, fuck, did he look hot and, fuck, did you need to be in the place of his phone right now, having him destroy your throat.

“Anyways. Will you come to my place later tonight?” He asked as you pulled into the parking lot of the gym which, for whatever reason, he did not register at all. You chuckled, looking for a spot.

“Sure, babe.” You finally parked, grabbing your phone and purse, Jihoon now talking to one of his friends, Hyungwon, which meant he wasn’t paying attention to his screen. Convenient.

Five minutes later you were inside the gym, your phone and keys in your purse, Jihoon and you hanging up a minute ago. You had just told him you’d call him back which was technically a lie, but what you had planned would make up for it. You saw him sitting on the spot he had called you in, Hyungwon nowhere to be seen - and so was no one else. You were surprised, considering it was only 8pm, but you weren’t going to complain. You stopped in your tracks, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you watched your boyfriend do some weight exercises, flexing his arms as he did them and, god, did you want to fuck him right now. Looking around, you saw that even the reception was empty, a sign saying “be right back!” and so you did the only thing that seemed valid right now. You walked through the milky glass door that was usually open at all times (you had watched Jihoon from still outside of the main gym room) and let it fall shut behind you, the loud bang making your boyfriend look up from where he was sitting.

The second he spotted you, his eyes widened in surprise, the weight he had lifted with his right hand falling onto the floor.

“Y/N? What-,” but he didn’t get any further than that because you reached him, your hands on his cheek, leaning down to kiss him feverishly. The surprise grew, but he wasn’t complaining about his girlfriend surprising him at the gym. He kissed you back, hands on the back of your thighs, a part he could reach comfortably as he sat on the bench. Instead of parting, you deepened the kiss and soon enough you found yourself straddling his hips, Jihoon shocked at the wetness he felt once you led his hand to your sopping core.

“Shit, why are you so wet, babe?” He groaned, his free hand in your hair.

“Are you kidding? Do you see yourself, Jihoon? You’re so fucking hot, needed you the second you called me. Propping the phone like that… don’t tell me you didn’t want me to come here and suck your cock.”

As if to underline your statement, your hand reached down, pressing down onto his growing erection. Jihoon’s cheeks turned red, but he couldn’t stop the moan when he felt you grind on him. He kissed you again, pressing you closer to his body, hips automatically meeting yours. While a part of him was worried someone might walk in, another part just really wanted you to go down on your knees and bring truth to what you had said.

“Fuck, babe, you’re driving me crazy,” he breathed against your lips and you giggled, letting your hand slip fully into his sweats, feeling his perfect big cock harden against your palm. Jihoon now bit down on your bottom lip, causing you to moan, his hand on your core moving to shove your panties to the side, fingers gliding through your wet folds. Your hips moved again, your hand fully wrapped around his cock now, jerking him off slowly.

“I need your cock in my mouth, Jihoonie, can I please suck your cock?” Your voice was dripping in want and Jihoon nodded, letting his fingers glide through your lips one more time before letting go of you, sucking his fingers into his mouth, drowning in your sweet taste.

“Get on your knees, baby. Show me what a good slut you are. How much you want my cock, common.”

His words shot straight to your pussy, clenching around nothing as you slipped down, hands setting his cock free from his sweats and briefs and without any teasing you let your mouth sink down on him. His moans and the hand on the back of your neck spurred you on even more, your free hand reaching between your legs, thumb on your clit as you got yourself off whilst sucking all of his length into your hungry mouth.

“Yeah, like that, I know you can take it all, baby,” he pushed your head down softly, helping you take all of him into your mouth and once your nose hit his abdomen he groaned, his head thrown back. Your mouth felt heavenly around him, always did. He could never get enough of it. He had you under the table while he worked, just warming his cock with your mouth. Had you in the car, you leaned over as he drove to the shop. You loved sucking his cock, loved letting him fuck your face, loved when he painted your cheeks white, when he had you keep his cum in his mouth to show him after. He was crazy about your hunger for his cock and he would never ever get tired of it.

Coughing around him, tears streaming down your face already, you dared to look up at him, his hooded eyes making you rub your clit even harder. Jihoon licked over his lips, positioning his hands on the sides of your head.

“Good girl, taking all of my cock down her perfect slutty throat. Ready for me to fuck it?” When you nodded, he immediately did his first thrust, a droplet of sweat already running down his forehead. He was deep down your throat, probably visible to an outsider. Thinking about someone walking in, seeing the way his cock looked inside of your used throat… it had you moaning around him. The vibrations made Jihoon thrust again, harder this time. And that was when he couldn’t hold back anymore. His pace became quicker, his cock showing you no mercy as he drilled it into your wet mouth, his chest heaving as he lost all sense of control.

Spit was dripping down your chin, your eyes almost crossed at this point, feeling like you were on cloud nine, your boyfriend using you to get off, always making you squirm. You kept on moaning around him, making him spiral, his orgasm so close and yet so far. He knew he needed to be quick, as much fun as this was, he would most probably get kicked out for fucking his girlfriend in the gym and whilst he loved the thrill, he did love this gym too.

“Such a horny slut, couldn’t even wait to get home, had to have my cock down her throat right away. Should probably punish you later for being so impatient, don’t you think?”

Your eyes rolled back and you nodded to the best of your ability with him still fucking down your throat. When you hollowed out your cheeks even more, the glide suddenly a bit easier, Jihoon couldn’t help the guttural moan of your name, his movements becoming sloppier. You could feel that he was close, your pussy clenching around nothing once more as you thought about his sweet cum shooting down your throat.

“F-fuck, yeah, such a good toy for me, such a whore, so, so good,” he stumbled over his words as he finally came, pushing your head all the way to his abdomen again, cum shooting down your throat in warm spurts as you tried to swallow it all, his cock twitching on your tongue over and over again. Yet, when he was finished, he was still rock solid. You felt your pussy flutter.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling you off his cock to instead shove up your skirt and rip the useless panties off of you, his eyes still full of hunger. He then turned around, sitting on the bench like he had during the phone call and only now did you register the huge mirror on the wall, right in front of the bench. Jihoon grabbed your waist and turned you around skilfully, placing you on his lap in reverse, his hard cock pressing against your ass as he looked at you through the mirror.

“Gotta be quick, baby,” he mumbled, and you nodded, lifting your ass and grabbing his cock to finally sink down on him. You were so extremely wet there was almost no resistance at all.

“God, so fucking wet, fuck,” Jihoon proceeded to kiss your shoulder, bottoming out a second later. His eyes stared into yours through the mirror, one hand on your hip, the other now on your thigh, moving towards your throbbing clit.

“Ngh, Jihoon- pl-please fuck me, touch me, anything,” you whined hips wiggling, feeling so full and yet so unsatisfied. Jihoon chuckled, thumb now harshly pressing down on your clit.

“Do you see yourself, baby? See what a fucking slut you are? So desperate for my cock, to get fucked in the middle of a public gym? Breaking probably a thousand rules?” As if to punish you, his hand shot up, only to fall back down, slapping your clit and making you jump. His cock slid out of you then and he groaned, grabbing your hips to position you back on his cock. And then he began to, again, show no signs of mercy. He began thrusting up, both hands on your hips now as you leaned back, your head on his shoulder.

“Look at yourself, watch how I fuck you pathetic little whore,” Jihoon groaned, his cock twitching inside of you as you clenched around him, your walls closing in on him more and more. He moaned your name, fingers digging so deep they were probably going to leave bruises for you to admire later.

“Y-yes, I am s-so pathetic, couldn’t wait for you to fuck me!” You cried out, trying your best to keep your eyes open and moaning in pain and pleasure when he slapped down on your clit again once your eyes fell shut for a second.

“I told you to look at yourself, fuck,” He changed positions now, a yelp escaping you as you found yourself bent over, legs on either side of the bench, arms stretched to hold you up and Jihoon behind you, standing upright, his hips fucking into you at godsspeed. He looked at you through the mirror, watched how incredibly hot you looked, lips swollen and red from the way he had fucked your mouth earlier, drool and small bits of cum on your chin and, fuck, did he twitch at the realisation. He picked up his pace once more, not able to keep his eyes off of you as he felt you clench again, your tight perfect pussy vibrating around him as you came, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of your orgasm, his name like a mantra on your lips.

“Good girl, coming on my cock so prettily,” he slapped your ass once, squeezing the flesh after, only for his own orgasm to hit, cum shooting inside your spent cunt that was happily taking it all in. He fucked you through your orgasms, his cock finally softening and pulling out after, catching you in his arms. You both needed a second before you were able to breathe normally again, your chests heaving, hearts beating at triple it’s usual speed. You felt like he had fucked all the life out of you and you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“You’re so cute,” he whispered into your ear then, kissing the spot underneath it. He had slipped back into his boxers and sweats and you were adjusting your skirt again.

You looked at him questioningly.

“What do you mean?” You asked then. He grinned, grabbing the disinfectant and some paper towels from the wall.

“You really think I didn’t know what position I placed my phone in? Silly baby. I might have started our relationship with zero rizz. But I would say, thanks to you, I am at a hundred percent rizz now.”

Speechless, you stared at him for a few seconds before laughing out loud.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Lee Jihoon.”

#svthub #woozi smut #jihoon smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #seventeen fanfiction #svt fanfiction #woozi fanfiction #jihoon fanfiction

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octuscle · 2 months

Note

I’d like to look like my hunky coworker! But I need some help doing that! He has hairy pits, big biceps, big beefy pecs, a nice bottom and he’s hung! Able to help me?

Phew! You're a long way from a hunk. Your colleague is really in a completely different league… But of course I can help you. Let me have a look… Listen carefully and do exactly what I tell you!

Thursday morning. The alarm goes off. It's 04:30. There is no complaining. You get up now. Got it? The large bowl of low-fat quark, protein powder and oatmeal mix is already prepared in your fridge. You eat it! Too much? I don't want to hear any whining, nothing comes from nothing. And I don't just want to change your appearance. A true alpha is characterized by discipline. Not laziness. And that's why you go to the gym at 05:00. The owner is your best friend. That's why you have the key. They don't actually open until 06:30. But then you wouldn't be able to do your morning routine before work. And your morning routine at the gym takes two and a half hours. You're still struggling at first. But slowly everything comes back to you. I mean, you're at home in the gym. How old are you now? 26 and a few months. You lifted iron for the first time when you were 16. And you never stopped. During high school and college, you focused on your career as a quarterback. But after you started working… No more time for football. Focus on your career. Focus on your body.

At 06:15, Mike comes over. He's working the early shift at reception today. His luck, your luck. Whoever has the early shift gets to relieve your first pressure of the day. You don't jerk off. Wanking is for losers. An alpha doesn't put his hand on his own cock. And Mike blows like a devil. And he knows exactly which protein shake you can use to make up for the loss of protein from your ejaculation.

The fact that the gym fills up quickly at 06:30 is also down to you. You're a legend here. Everyone wants to be like you. Everyone would love to have the honor of being the second person in the shower to relieve your pressure in an hour. A blowjob like that is okay, but before you go to the office, you have to have fucked an ass. But you're picky. The ass has to be tight. That's probably why it's always so crowded at the leg press in the morning.

Today, a college boy was lucky enough to have an ass that makes your huge powerful cock go off. And because he did his job well, he even gets to shave his cock and balls. He'll be able to tell his kids about that. If he ever fucks himself again. You won't remember his name. He's the tight ass who knows how to use a wet razor. That's all you need to remember. It's enough if he remembers that he has to address you as "Sir". Everyone has to do that. You're not like the others here. You are better. Much better. And therefore an arrogant asshole.

It's 08:15 when you get to the office. To the minute. You're always in the office at 08:15. That's when your coffee and muesli are on your desk. And your signature folder is exactly aligned next to it. You're not tidy, you're a control freak. At work. And in your private life. Not a hair on your perfectly coiffed head is not the way you want it. No colleague around you doesn't follow your lead.

You are only the second youngest department head in the company. Your hunky colleague did it a bit earlier. But you have the bigger biceps. And you're better hung than him. He knows that. And he really appreciates it. Usually around 10:30 a.m. during the breakfast break.

#alpha tf #male tf #muscle tf #reality change #ai image

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late-to-the-party-81 · 2 months

Note

This babe is getting you something from your favorite coffeeshop. What's your go-to order and what did he bring you?

Sorry for taking so long, Cia!

My go-to order is a decaf hazelnut latte, but I love when there are seasonal specials that are more cream than coffee.

So what does the Captain get me? Head on under the cut for a 500 word, un-beta'd drabble.

Steve and the other Avengers had been off doing one of their public appearances, talking to sick kids down one of the local hospitals, so he was dressed up in his Cap suit, but for once wasn’t bruised, battered or sweaty when he eventually returned to the Tower. In fact, he and the others had had time to swing past the local coffee shop on the way back and load up on some much needed caffeine and sugar.

As they walked back through the doors, Tony’s voice echoing loudly through the reception area, you couldn’t help but look up from your desk, where you worked as the face of Stark Industries, greeting and directing visitors and acting as the first line of defence against Avengers super-fans.

The light shone through the huge windows that seemed to stretch ever upwards and lit up Steve Roger’s golden hair. You let out a sigh. He was so fucking handsome.

You considered yourself a grown-up professional, but for some reason whenever the Captain was near or, god-forbid, spoke to you, you turned into a giggling school girl. It didn’t stop you from admiring him from a distance though - a girl could dream.

However, as the gaggle of heroes got closer, heading towards the executive elevators, Steve peeled off, heading towards you. Your eyes went wide with confusion and your heart started to race. What could he possibly want? Somehow, you managed to return your expression to one of corporate pleasantness as he crossed the last few feet of space, a soft smile on his features.

“Can I help you, Captain?” you asked .

“Actually, I thought I could help you.” He placed a coffee cup and a small paper bag in front of you. “I got these for you. Thought you might need a pick-me-up.”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks at the gesture, but then your heart sank at the sight of the coffee.

“That’s, umm, very thoughtful, Captain, but I can’t have normal coffee because…”

He cut you off. “Because you’re intolerant. That’s why I got you decaf. A latte, with a shot of hazelnut. And one of those brownies with the caramel running through it.”

Your eyes started to bug out again. “How did you know?” You squeaked out the question, no longer able to maintain your professional composure.

“I always remember important information,” he replied and despite his relatively simple words, there was an implied meaning under them. Was Steve Rogers - Captain America - flirting with you?”

You swallowed thickly and picked up the coffee cup. “Well thank you for thinking of me, Captain. It’s much appreciated. But I’d best let you go,” you gestured to the rest of the gang who were standing near the elevator, all trying to look as though they weren’t eavesdropping. “The others are waiting.”

“And I’d best let you return to work. See you around.”

He turned around and started to walk away, and you tried your best not to just stare at his ass. However, he suddenly stopped again and looked back over his shoulder.

“Oh, one more thing.”

You sat up in your seat, feeling a bit like a meerkat. “Yes, Captain?”

“Call me Steve.”

tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions

#jen's got mail #asks answered #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine

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selfishlove-tf · 1 year

Text

5th Annual TF Story Exchange - for Jockifyme

G’day :) I wanted to challenge myself so I entered the TF Story Exchange to force myself to write something. The author I got for the exchange was @jockifyme so please enjoy. I hope I met your requirements @jockifyme .

***---***

I’m an accountant and sometimes we audit High Schools. We make sure that the donations or funds received go places they should be going to, we check payroll and budget; we call it “cash stuff” in the office because “expenses” and “finances” start confusing our smaller-minded Gen Z workers.

From that “defame our younger generation” comment alone, you should be able to tell that I am older – not too much but I feel myself reaching the other end of my thirties really quickly. Luckily, the stresses of older age haven’t touched me too much; I have my curly brown hair, though it is fading in colour just like my eyes which used to be emerald, now swamp. Got my height from my mum, she was six-three and she gave me my current six-one. Got my metabolism (or lack thereof) from my dad whose genes garunteed no weight would be gained – I was skinny, a measly one-forty pounds.

The lights in the schools office behind reception showed my touch-of-sunburn off more than I wanted to, my skin naturally pale like a ghost flared up with areas of red where I misapplied my sunscreen. I, however, didn’t feel the burn so the sun must’ve been somewhat lacklustre that day. Sunburn was the last thing on my mind anyway. Numbers, numbers, numbers. I enjoyed the numbers and I did well in maths back when I was in school some blah blah blah years ago – I’d rather not say how long – and was in the top ten of students in my school who graded highly during the final exams before graduation. The only part I hated was listening to the administration guy who lightly flirted with the teachers as they walked by. They couldn’t see it but the “that dress fits nice on you” and “did you forget your glasses because those eyes are shining today” commends he has said in the past ten minutes were dangerously close to the line of being fired should someone actually pay attention to him.

I continued my counts and record-checking and, soon enough, the admin guy was talking to me about football. I never got into that kind of thing, my focus was more on work and work and work. I didn’t need to watch a bunch of men running into each other, the idea was stupid to me. Yet, despite my disinterest in the topic, the admin guy continued to drone on about it.

I looked at my watch; I had only been here for an hour. All the kids were in their classes so, gladly, I decided to quickly take a break and get a drink. Stupidly, I forgot my water bottle and I didn’t want to deal with more dead conversation from the admin guy and, as I recalled, I remembered there being a bubbler/water fountains near the building facing the oval. With a quick “I’ll be back” to the admin guy, and a swift exit, I was out the door and headed towards the oval, a quick hello and hi to some teachers passing or students that were supposed to be in class. Reaching the bubbler, there was footsteps nearby and voices loudly talking. I leaned down, pulled the lever and started drinking, footsteps getting closer. The closer it got, the more I heard the topic of conversation.

‘I don’t know what we’re gonna do, man,’ one started. ‘Tyler’s out for the game tonight and we got no backup since Harry left.’

‘Cool it, Reid!’ another cut the first off. ‘We’ll find someone or deal with a short team no matter what coach says.’

‘Yeah, but where are we gonna find something so short notice, Jay?’ A third asked. I had become invested in the conversation that I didn’t realise that they were now walking behind me as I was still drinking from the bubbler until they stopped.

‘How about you?’ Jay asked.

It took me a minute to realise he was talking to me. I stopped drinking and turned around and was greeted by four teens in football gear. ‘You talking to me?’

‘We are looking at you,’ pointed the fourth.

‘Smart kid, though I don’t go here clearly.’ I gestured to my whole figure, hoping they weren’t dumb enough to think I was any younger than thirty-five.

‘Not a problem with us.’ Jay, who I assumed was the leader, stepped forward. ‘I’m Jay, and these are my bros Reid, Mikey and Kyle.’ He gestured to his friends as if I was interested in knowing them. Jay was short, wide and brunette; Reid was tall, thin and blonde; Mikey was tall, tan and built; Kyle was the shortest, brunette and athletic. The group did seem like the perfect popular boys of school, they just lacked more arrogance.

‘How would you expect to fix that?’ I questioned. ‘Compared to you guys, I’m weathered. Y’all haven’t even touched hard work yet.’ That comment seemed to irritate Reid, subtly puffing his chest up.

‘Hard work? Football is full time!’ Reid arched up.

‘Reid, not another word,’ Jay snapped. ‘You’ll only scare him away, and we’re already about to get scary.’

‘Oh, I’m shaking.’ I teased before rolling my eyes and started walking back to the office.

‘Take him,’ I heard Jay mutter.

Soon, three pairs of hands were on me and started to pull at me, dragging me in the opposite direction. I started shouting to let me go and, for a moment I thought why it was suddenly so quiet at the school; no students or teachers were walking by and no one seemed to look out the windows at the commotion I was causing. No matter how much I shouted and wriggled, the guys’ strong hands had firm grips. I looked behind me to where they were dragging me and found that they were taking me to the locker rooms. They barged in, pushed me to the bench and sat me down, Reid and Kyle holding me down while Mikey went off to grab something.

‘We’re gonna make sure you’re ready for the game tonight,’ Jay said matter-of-factly.

Mikey returned with football gear which I began to question myself about how stupid they really are. Jay motioned to Reid and Kyle as Mikey came to stand behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. Without warning, Reid and Kyle started to pull at my clothes, tearing my button up off and yanking my shoes off before pulling off my pinstripes. I tried to fight back with all of my strength but Mikey was stronger than he looks, making sure to hold me in place during the process. At the end of it, I was left in my briefs.

‘Let me go you freaks!’ I shouted. ‘I don’t know what you plan on doing but it needs to end now!’

Jay motioned to the football uniform and gear and Kyle and Reid moved almost immediately. Reid began with what looked like compression shorts, sliding them up my legs until they were on properly. I felt immediate embarrassment being dressed as if I couldn’t do it myself. When the compression shorts snapped into place, my legs felt like they were burning although bearable. No sooner did my legs start burning that Kyle had put on long socks and oversized football boots, and the burning spread down until it reached my feet. My whole lower half was on fire and, sure enough, when I looked down, I saw why. My thighs started to plump up, calves sharpening and I felt my toes touch the end of the boot. Soon as that began, Reid grabbed a compression singlet and slid it over my head and over my torso, Kyle soon following with the shoulder pads.

I was panicked, my whole body starting to feel like I’d worked out for hours, and my body was catching up. My torso bulked up, a bit of muscle showing as my chest puffed up and my biceps blew up. My flexed forearms had a roadmap of veins as my increasingly meaty hands gripped firmly on the bench. I was beginning to tire myself out through all the strain and flexing I was doing due to the pain of the growth. At some point, Jay told Mikey to let me go because he knew I wasn’t going anywhere, not that I could because of the amount of pain I was in.

Soon enough, as it had started to die down, I looked over myself while out of breath and saw how toned I got. I was in shock; something completely impossible just happened. When I looked up to the group, there was glee in their eyes, but mine saw red. I had no energy to do anything, though, exhausted from the growth.

‘What the fuck did you do?’ I gasped between breaths.

‘It’s not over,’ Jay said. ‘Look at me.’

He grabbed my chin and lifted my face to look at him directly in the eyes. He smiled before swiping some black paint onto my cheeks, and then he let go of my chin and stepped back. There was a brief moment where nothing happened, but it hit seconds later. I gripped my head and squeezed my eyes shut as images flashed across my vision of school, football, training, hanging out with the bros. Bros? No, I was an adult. I was here for an audit. No, that doesn’t sound right? I was on the oval with my bros talking about the game. No! The admin guy, we were talking about football while I was doing work… work? No, I was skipping class. My brain went back and forth and soon enough, the school-kid persona was taking over. All the games my bros and I played, the games we won and the after-parties we went to. My body, face, and mind were all getting younger. My hair turned a darker brown, keeping the curls, and my eyes had regained their shining emerald green. My sunburn cleared up and my skin looked tanned from spending weeks in the sun. Although keeping the muscle on, my body shrank a little and smoothed out. After all of a few minutes, my head cleared and my body no longer felt like it was burning. I felt completely painless, in fact, I had a lot of energy.

‘You good, Jack?’ asked Reid.

I looked up at the group, a brief pause before nodding my head. ‘Still mad Tyler can’t make it.’

‘Well, we gotchu at least,’ Mikey pointed out. ‘We’ll sure win tonight.’

‘We always win, bros!’

‘That’s the spirit!’ Jay cheered. ‘Now let’s get practicing! Don’t forget your jersey, Jack.’

I looked down at the bench where my jersey was. I grabbed it and slipped it on, unknowingly sealing the transformation. ‘Do we gotta wear the shoulder pads during training?’ I complained.

‘Shut up and get out there!’

#age regression #getting younger #jock tf

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specialagentlokitty · 4 months

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Booth x Teen!reader - a little hyper

is it possible that you can write a Booth! X ADHD teenage reader? I don’t exactly have a plot in mind but the reader is either stimming or just very fidgety - @alexandriathewolfyt 💜

Sitting in the interrogation room, you kicked your feet up on the table, using them to push yourself back so you could sing in your chair.

You were tossing a stress ball up and down in your head, trying to hit it off the ceiling.

After a few minutes and the ball rolling across the room, you got up, walking around the table a few times you walked over to the mirror.

You stood there, then leant back, throwing your head forehead to headbutt the glass, grinning a little.

“Come on, I’m bored, stop watching me that’s creepy.”

You pushed yourself away, and you made your way to the door, opening it to peak outside, finding a few agents watching you.

Frowning, you slowly closed the door again and picked up your ball, climbing on the table as you began throwing to upwards again.

Booth stood on the other side of the glass just watching you.

“Seriously, I spent have the morning having to chase them around the hallways of the school, and they still have energy?”

“It’s ADHD booth, (Y/N) has an excessive amount of energy and a difficulty concentrating. It can also present in outbursts of anger or disruptive behaviour, loss of concentration, impulsive thoughts.” Brennan said.

“Right well I need to go in there and stop this before somebody gets hurt, can you find sweets, maybe he can crack the hyper code.”

With that booth left, and when he walked into the room he was hit in the face with a ball.

A silence fell over the room.

“Sorry…?” You grinned a little.

He picked up the ball and walked in, gesturing for you to jump down from the table so you did and he handed it back.

“Trying to make your great escape?” Booth asked.

“Not yet, but maybe soon this is boring. Do you have snacks? Or soda?”

“Yes to both, but only if you answer my questions.”

“That’s bribery you’re not allowed to do that.”

“I’m not allowed to accept them, there’s a difference kid. Sit.”

“Wouldn’t that like be morally wrong?”

Booth sat down, looking up at you.

“Isn’t running from a federal agent morally wrong?”

“Nah man that’s just wrong.” You beamed.

He gestured to the seat and you sat down, tapping your hands on the table.

“Are you taking your medication?” He asked.

“How’d you know?”

“Bones found your prescription bottle in the reception, you got it a few months ago but it’s still closed.”

“I’ve been busy, I forget. I forgot my lunch all this week.”

He nodded his head, setting a photo down in front of you.

“Do you know him?”

“Yeah, science teacher I think, he hated me. A lot of teachers do, but I’m cool with that, when can I get my sweater back?”

“Right now it’s evidence.”

You groaned loudly and leant back in your chair again.

“If you fall that’s not my issue.” Booth said, “I just need you to answer a few more questions.”

You leant forward, resting your hands on the table, drumming them a little bit.

He asked a few questions which you answered and he stood up, opening the door and blocked the doorway.

“You’re not gonna run off?”

“Not yet.”

He sighed, gesturing for you to follow him and you did.

Booth took you to his office and he gestured to the man and woman sitting inside.

“You know Bones, that’s sweets. Stay here.”

With that he left and you looked at Sweets as he held out a bottle to you.

“These belong to you.”

“Eh keep em, I don’t need them. What’s this?”

You picked something up and then set it down.

“You have a lot of energy, is there anything you do to burn your excess energy?” Brennan asked.

You shrugged a little bit, exploring more of the office until you grew bored and began throwing your ball again.

“Here.”

Booth handed you a can of soda and some snacks, pointing to the chair.

You sat down, opening the chips and watched as he took the other two out of the room so he could talk to them.

After a few minutes Booth walked back in.

“Good news, you’re now in my care until after the case.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so, so grab your stuff and let’s go.”

“Where?”

“I’m taking you back to school, and you’re not going to run away because I’ll have agents placed around the school to keep an eye on you.”

You grumbled a little, slouching more into the chair.

Booth crossed his arms, looking at you.

“Are we really going to have troubles this early?”

“Come on man! Let me stay! I’ll behave!”

Booth narrowed his eyes a little bit, and he sat down on his desk, taking some of the chips from the bag you were eating.

“I hear you like to run.”

“Yeah, on track team.”

“Alright, let’s go down to the gym then.”

“Really?!”

Booth grabbed your bag.

“Yeah, let’s see if you’re really as fast as they say you are.”

You ran straight towards the elevator.

You had a lot of energy you needed to burn, and Booth needed you to burn as much as you possible could.

He was also hoping that in doing something you liked he could learn a little more about you and maybe you could offer more useful information about the case.

You were a good kid, just hyper and misunderstood by everybody else but booth could see that you just really wanted to be seen as an ordinary teenager

#bones #bones x reader #bones x you #bones imagine #seeley booth #seeley booth x reader #seeley booth imagine #seeley booth x you

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bad268 · 6 days

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I love your writing so much!!

Can you kaybe do a Ralf Aron one where him and the readers parents go way back and they always thought that Ralf and the reader were going to marry each other?

Skip To That Part (Ralf Aron X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/WEC

Requested: Clearly (THANK YOU SO MUCH LOVE)

Warnings: None (no physical descriptions of reader)

POV: Second Person (You/you)

W.C. 1270

Summary: Let's just skip to the best part of the wedding (save me from embarrassment). + Song Rec

Join my 1K Celly

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Today was the day. Your wedding day. As cliche as it sounded, you were excited to start the new chapter. Sure, not much of a new chapter when you grew up with your future husband, but a step forward nonetheless. Ralf and you had been friends since primary school and together since you were teens. You were interested in engineering, so it was easy to follow him around everywhere. You were able to help with his karts, and it was only a matter of time before he put a ring on your finger.

The only thoughts that ran through your head as you stood at the altar were that you could not believe it. All that planning was finally coming to fruition, and so far, it was perfect. The skies were clear, the weather was nice and the wedding itself was small. You only wanted your closest family and friends since you were both pretty reserved. Plus, this was your day. Neither of you needed to justify your want to have a small ceremony or reception.

There was one very important part of the ceremony, though. It was something you were looking forward to, and when you first told Ralf about it, he thought it was a great idea. You had heard about people having their parents or married family members give you advice or tell a story during the ceremony, and every video you saw of it made you want to include it in your day.

Your concentration (or lack thereof) when your mom and Ralf’s mom stood before you. You chuckled nervously before they took the place of the officiant and faced the rest of your families.

“Before we get started with the advice,” Your mom started as a few of your families looked at your mothers.

“We thought now would be a good time for a story,” His mom finished off. Everyone laughed, but you looked at Ralf nervously, knowing this was probably going to be an embarrassing story. His mom waited for everything to calm down before gesturing to your mom and saying, “For some background, I have known her for years.”

“That’s right! At least 30 years!” Your mom laughed, playing along. “And we said that when we had kids, we would force them to be friends.”

“Well, lucky for us, our kids didn’t need to be forced!” The entire group erupted in laughter as you leaned to try and hide your face in Ralf’s shoulder. “These two were always attached. I don’t even think I ever saw you apart!”

“I can think of one time where I walked in on you two-” Your mom started, but by the glint in her eyes, you knew this was not a story you wanted to air out.

“Mom, please don’t embarrass me too much on my wedding day,” You cut her off immediately. No one needed to know that story. Some things just needed to stay between you and her, and this was one of them.

“Ok, we won’t say that story,” Your mom conceded as she brought her hand up to fix a hair that had fallen in front of your eyes. “But I will say this. One day, we took them to the local karting track. This was back when they both wanted to be F1 drivers.”

“Oh right! To say Ralf got beaten to a pulp was an understatement,” His mom chuckled, poking fun at her son.

“We were like 7!” Ralf defended himself with a laugh.

“Anyways,” Your mom dragged out before gesturing to you, “You climbed out of that kart so quickly and ran to Ralf. I don’t even think I’ve seen Lightning McQueen go faster than that!”

“You hit him with such momentum that it knocked him over! Good thing you both were wearing helmets,” His mom joked. The rest of the guests also laughed as both of your cheeks flushed from embarrassment. “I said right then and there you two would get married, so thank you for making me 100 euros richer.”

“You bet money on my love life?” Ralf gasped as his mom added the last part. “I should get at least half! I mean, it is my life!”

“And I get the significant other’s tax of 50%,” You joked with everyone, but once everyone calmed down, you turned to your mom and mother-in-law, “Did you really make a bet based on that one interaction?”

“Oh no!” They both said quickly, almost offended at the accusation.

“There’s plenty of instances that led to the bet,” His mom said.

“Like when you first met, and you grabbed his hand and said, ‘mine’ before dragging him into your room.”

“Or when you both raced against each other, swapped cars and immediately said each other’s cars sucked.”

“Or when you joined Prema just to travel with him during his F4 and F3 champaigns.”

“Or when you said you couldn’t stand each other after every other time you hung out.”

“Or when you both admitted to not wanting to ruin your friendships because of your feelings,” Your mom exasperated. “I had to listen to it for three years! We had to do something!”

“What do you mean you had to do something?” You and Ralf asked skeptically. You did not like the sound of that. Neither of you did.

“Let’s just say someone had to give you a little push but don’t shoot the messenger,” His mom replied quickly as she raised her hands in surrender. That’s when you realized what they were talking about.

You were 15 when you became official with Ralf. He slipped a note in your post box, and you knew it was him because it was his handwriting. You knew his handwriting like the back of your hand. It was a love letter that you still had to this day. As soon as you read his confession, you went to his house and admitted your feelings. The rest was history.

However, the way his mom said, “Don't shoot the messenger” got you thinking. You never mentioned the letter to Ralf, thinking he delivered it, but the way she said it seemed suspicious.

“Did you give me that letter?” You decided to just bite the bullet and ask.

“What letter?” Ralf asked as he glanced between you and his mom confused. “What am I missing here?”

“Ralf, did you or did you not confess to me through a letter?”

“No…” He trailed off but picked it back up in a second. “I wrote a letter once, but I threw it away. I was going to give it to you, but the day after I wrote it, you came over and confessed. I didn’t need to give it to you.”

“Would it happen to have started with, ‘How about we shift our gears and drive into the sunset together? Because with you, every road feels like a scenic route’?” His face said it all as his eye snapped to his mom. “So the bet is invalid because the messenger interfered. I petition to just move on and never speak of it again.”

With a laugh, they sat back down, and the officiant stood between us again. Just as the officiant was about to call up the first couple to give us advice, Ralf stopped them.

“Can we just skip to the part where we kiss? We can do the advice during the reception, but that story took forever,” Ralf pressed as he tried to pull you closer. The officiant looked at you for approval, to which you nodded with a sigh.

“I think it’s time we skip to that part.”

~~~~~

#ralf aron x reader #ralf aron x you #ralf x reader #ralf x you #ralf aron #paul aron #formula 1 #formula 2 #formula 3 #world endurance championship #wec #f1 #f2 #f3 #wec x reader #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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changingplumbob · 1 month

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Coming this rotation, a new High School!

In my mod frustration I took a break from gameplay and rebuilt my old very square high school. I changed the time of day for taking photos and cheated the weather to sunny about 5 times but it kept raining so we're just going to roll with it. I mean at least it shows off the covered walkways?

As you walk on to the grounds the building on the right is the first stop. It is the reception area of the school and features the first aid room and principals office. We may or may not see the principals office depending on how evil a certain sim will be once they age up to a teen.

If you exited the office and went past the picnic tables to a side walkway you would find the basketball court (yes this is 100% here because @matchalovertrait character Dulce played basketball which made me remember most high schools have a court). The end of the walkway has a group cheer mat which Onyx may or may not use, obviously not in this weather, they like their hair too much. Opposite this is a proper sized pool inspired by the wonderful high school build done by @stargazer-sims (seriously wanting a pool even close to yours was a main drive of redoing the place).

What? We can walk from the pool to the main building without getting rained on? How convenient in this deluge! As we turn to look back at the pool notice how the watcher solved the empty space problem by chucking down a whole skating rink. Back into the main building and we're greeted by a pride flag because this is an inclusive school even if the principal is an arse gosh darn it!

I thought I couldn't get a more colourful cafeteria then I went and built it! Please notice the pride flag wall (please let me know if I forgot any key ones and I'll add them), colourful menus and a security camera to keep track of who really starts those food fights.

Double doors lead to an outside eating area, once again covered and- who put a waterslide back there? Seriously questionable building taste (it's me, I have questionable building taste). There's also a couple of swing sets because you're never too old for swings.

The other set of internal double doors lead to the library which is kindly being modeled by the default principal. Space for group study and comfy reading. I liked the idea of taller tables and normal height tables coexisting in the space. Room to work on projects together or study alone.

What's that you say? I've never looked into voidcritter lore despite owning kids room stuff? Me neither my friend. Didn't stop me from decorating the locker section with them though. If we continue clockwise- oh look, a full length mirror! How convenient for image obsessed teens without them clogging the bathrooms. You can also see the space on the opposite side of the cafeteria where there is a mural outline in case sims want to fill it in (I'm looking at you art lover Carson who still managed to get a low boost to his exam despite not having art knowledge). Anyway back to clockwise, this is my math class. Math diagrams because math.

And then we come out of the side hallway where the entrance to math was and face back towards the front entrance. Let me just take a minute to highlight that all bathrooms here are unisex individual spaces. Gender is a social construct and honestly making a group of young people who are already self conscious get changed in the same space is... not a great plan. The bathrooms in the pool also look like this. Down our second side corridor and I wonder what could be here. Oh look at that art, it kind of looks like something @eljeebee reblogged yesterday... silver and yellow... (I swear I forgot about seeing it until after I finished the build and I rechecked tumblr and saw it again. It's not my fault Lana is being an influencer)

Through the door you will find the graphics studio/art class. Hopefully it can inspire the students a bit. Alas not much room for easels but in graphics in high school all we needed was blank paper and a good desk.

Then we have business class right by the front entrance. Why is it so feminine I hear you say? Because business is for women to! Eliza is proving that. And I fell in love with the colour scheme and ran with it... And I wanted to try different style individual desks in different classes. Have you noticed this is the third room with different style desk? Probably not as this is the first time I'm mentioning it.

To the other side of the entrance we have two more classes (these are bordering the cafeteria). First up, computer science! Not a single computer in sight! Because when I tried to put computers at desks the students just sat in a huddle by the door and all got yelled at by the principal didn't they (I am sorry about that detention Onyx and Carson, my bad). Next we have social studies, one of my school favourites! Broke out the dino wallpaper and some maps to go with historic pieces. Fun fact, I'm useless at geography, couldn't find anywhere on a map really.

Now upstairs may seem a bit of a jumble... But that's just because it is. The main landing connects with a small workout area. Here we have a punching bad, some yoga mats, and the traditional exercise machine and treadmill for those before class tasks. Of course we have a sneaky bit of unicorn art as tribute to the queen of unicorns @azuhrasims herself.

In one of the upstairs corners we have our Language Studies room. And look, there's the big blank spot on the wall I couldn't decide decor for, oops. I have a film poster in here because my English teacher had film posters up and I loved them! Then we have a chill hang out space with a variety of comfy seats to choose from. These wall murals really set the vibe I wanted. A place to relax indoors that wasn't the cafeteria.

Next corner we have the science class where I definitely did not go overboard with green, nope not me. I wanted to chuck some chem labs in here but I also wanted each class to be able to sit 10. When I play the Pancakes next both teens will need to be in the same class so I'm going to run that week with a larger mixed class, they'll each have 4 friends of their own age in their class for company. Then we have what I assume was the builder's attempt at a Foreign Language classroom? Between quilted floor tiles and gingham walls I'd guess they were out of ideas by the time they got to this room (yeah I kind of was, plus I just don't know what to put in a foreign language class when all simlish is foreign to me)

And finally we have Olive Grim! Wife of the reaper who is kindly testing my build out for me in the photography save. I should have had her test a shower in the bathrooms but hindsight is 20/20 or whatever the saying is. She's chilling in the most bland boring room I could make for my sims to have to sit exams in. No inspiration and no cheating off classroom posters!

Thank you for coming on my tour. Once again I am sorry about the rain! I even skipped forward a whole other day and it was still there... at least we're putting the covered walkways to use I guess?

#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #simblr #sims 4 builds #sims 4 build #BuildOrReno #show us your builds #sims build

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