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waughymommy · 2 months

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My first 'mature' ABDL story. It's about a husband and a wife who have a problem. I hope to write a lot more after this, so I hope you like it!

Finding Mommy

'This isn't working.'

The statement didn't come as a shock to Andrew. He knew it wasn't working. But he didn't want to look like he didn't care, so he persued it, already feeling resigned and bitter about the discussion's inevitable conclusion.

'What isn't?' he asked, softly.

'This. This whole...baby thing. I can't do it,' his wife, Tammy, waved her hand in his direction. He winced, glancing down at his apparel. A slightly soggy diaper, and a t-shirt. He'd been wearing the same thing to bed every so often for a couple months now. His wife had initially chuckled and teased him playfully, but lately...lately the playful teasing had stopped. She wouldn't remark on his padded state, except if the diaper got too close to her. 'The tapes scratch my skin,' she'd explain, but Andrew suspected it was something else.

She went on.

'I'm sorry. I thought I could. I know you really want this. But I can't do it. I can't...pretend you're a baby. The diapers were one thing...but...I can't do that,' she looked away, as if preparing herself to say something upsetting. 'You know...when you first told me...you made it sound...sound like a sex thing...I don't mind that. I don't even mind...using them, sometimes...like...like before...you know?'

She trailed off, looking at Andrew, a pained expression on her face. Andrew's mind flashed back to when he'd first told her, almost a year and a half ago. How she'd been so...accepting.

--------------------------------

'Are these ones good?' Tammy asked, as she patted the package. 'I wanted to make sure I got good ones...I ordered these a few weeks after you told me...they just arrived on Monday.'

Andrew glanced at the large box of diapers, feeling a stirring of excitement at the fact that she'd bought so many...a whole case, in fact. God, what was she planning? Was this going to become a regular occurence? Was she going to keep him in diapers, for the whole day? Or wear herself? His head swam at the possibilities.

'I...uh...what are they?' he asked, licking his lips, nervously.

'Abena?' Tammy replied, scrunching up her face, trying to recall something. 'I...Abena X-plus? They had so many different names, but I think these are the good ones. Abri-form L4...The large ones...I wasn't sure what size we'd need...Oh.'

She suddenly stopped, pausing, as if worried about what she was going to say next. She reached into her (rather mysterious, to Andrew, at least) handbag, rummaging around. Andrew waited patiently for her to speak, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the large box on the bed. Abena X-plus was sure to be a world away from what he'd tried so far. He knew these were premium diapers. He felt himself jolt back to reality as Tammy started talking again.

'I bought...these...as well...'

Another package slid onto the bed, only this time it wasn't boxed or freshly delivered. It was clearly a packet of diapers. A packet of OPEN diapers.

'On the site I got the...uh...Abenas from, they were selling purple ones, too,' she said, nervously. 'So...I got some of those, in a smaller size...'

Andrew's mind could have exploded at that moment. Tammy stood up from the bed, an audible crinkling coming from her pyjama bottoms. Andrew couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the bulge of her diaper before, but he certainly noticed now. He stared at her rump almost hungrily as she turned sideways, looking coyly at him, grabbing the edge of her pyjama top and starting to lift it, revealing the purple waistband of the diaper.

Andrew stepped forwards, reaching out. His hand ran over her bottom, slipping off her trousers, until she was standing in just a diaper and a shirt. He patted the material of padding, pulling her close to him, hand trailing around and around the crinkly undergarment, feeling it, feeling /her/ through it.

'I...I guess you like it?' Tammy asked, feeling a little awkward. Andrew made a noise halfway between a sigh and a groan.

'Yes,' he replied, simply.

'Would you like to wear one, too?' she asked, wriggling her bottom against his crotch, making him tense a little.

'Y...yes...' he gasped, hardly believing what was happening...

'Then lay down on the bed for me...'

-----------------------------

That night had been amazing. Andrew couldn't believe his luck. They'd spent the whole evening in diapers, exploring and experimenting. It felt like his wildest fantasies had come true. This beautiful woman, his future wife (he'd chosen to tell her a little while after they got engaged), was willing to wear and use diapers for him. He couldn't believe it.

She seemed almost as eager as him, that evening. She did everything he'd ever fantasized about, sexually. She wet. She asked for a change. She changed him...they even had...well. Andrew wasn't sure what to call it. Lots of rubbing. Wet, squishy diapers pressing together, then pulled aside for the 'main event'. Was that diaper sex? He supposed so. It was wonderful, whatever it was.

He wondered if what happened next had been a turning point. At the end of the evening, when they were snuggled in bed, she'd sighed contentedly and lazily rolled out of bed.

'Be right back, hun,' she told him huskily, slipping out of the room in an instant.

She'd returned, after a couple minutes, undiapered, her bottoms now back on. She'd smiled and gotten back into bed with him.

------------

'Why did you take it off?' Andrew asked, a little confused. 'Didn't you like it?'

Tammy dodged the question, but sounded just as confused as Andrew. 'Well...we're done now, aren't we? I'm really tired...I don't think you're up to going again, even I wasn't...'

She paused, sidling up to him in the bed, absent-mindedly flattening the covers over her. 'Why haven't you taken yours off?' she asked, finally.

'I...Well. I just...thought I'd like to keep it on. That's...okay, right?'

A few moments ago, he'd been certain it would be. It seemed silly even to ask. But now he wasn't so sure.

'Oh. Um. Sure,' Tammy replied, smiling again. 'I love you.'

She kissed him, turning away, and Andrew slipped his arms around her from behind, murmuring 'I love you, too' into her neck.

---------------

'That was okay. It made me feel...sexy. I loved that I could have that effect on you. It made me feel good, too,' she thought for a moment. 'I felt like your partner, then. I felt like I was desirable, sexually, like...like this was a special secret, between us. Something for the bedroom, something kinky and fun. I didn't care that it was nappies, I knew people had fetishes...but this isn't just a fetish, is it?'

Andrew swallowed as she fixed him with a steely gaze.

'Is it, Andrew?'

He shook his head 'no'. It was more than that. He wished he'd explained before. He thought she'd understood.

'You...want to be a baby, don't you?'

Andrew's mouth opened in protest.

'No! I mean...not all the ti-'

Tammy raised a hand, cutting him off.

'I know. Not all the time. Not most of the time. Not forever. Just occasionally, right? Like when I tried before...but for real?'

Andrew swallowed and nodded again. He remembered the brief times she'd tried to play 'Mommy'.

--------------

'Uh...crawl to me...come here, you naughty little baby...'

Tammy's voice was strained, as she patted the top of her legs, calling Andrew over.

Meanwhile, Andrew himself was feeling...well. He wasn't sure exactly.

There was something a little exciting about the humiliation his wife was bringing to this role. He found something arousing about how she threatened to spank him, how she called him names and teased him. It felt, well, /naughty/, and he decided he sort of liked that. It was very erotic.

But...he wasn't looking for this to be erotic. Something was wrong. He didn't feel like a baby; he felt like a naughty boy being punished. He didn't feel safe and looked after. He felt chastised and a little ashamed. He felt unspeakably adult, despite the baby bonnet and mittens he was wearing. Instead of an innocent little baby, he was some weird guy, crawling around, pretending to be an infant, calling his wife 'Mommy'.

'Crawl to me!' Tammy repeated.

Andrew sighed, starting to move.

'Yes, Mommy...'

-------------------

'I thought that was really weird, but you know...' Tammy shrugged. 'I tried. For you. I thought you wanted that. I thought it was a sex thing still.'

Andrew shuffled in the bed, feeling uncomfortable. He wished he hadn't worn to bed, now. He'd felt a pang when he'd gone to pad up; his case of abenas was nearly empty; her package of molicares was two thirds full. He hadn't expected her to use them of her own volition, but it was a reminder of just how infrequently she'd worn, for him or otherwise.

'Then,' Tammy continued. 'Then you told me that wasn't what you wanted, either. You wanted it to be more...innocent...more 'snuggly'.' That last word was almost a snarl, and Andrew felt himself flinch.

'So I tried that, too. But I couldn't do it...I mean...' she sighed, pushing the hair back out of her eyes, sighing in frustration. 'Remember what I told you when you told me this stuff?'

Andrew nodded.

-----------------

'Aren't I...doing enough?' Tammy asked, a look of confusion on her face.

'No! No, it's not that...it's more that you're doing it the wrong way...' Andrew immediately regretted his words, seeing his wife's expression turn sour.

'No! I mean...I...I think maybe I didn't really explain what I want, not properly. It's not just the baby stuff, dressing up and that...I want...' he swallowed, hesitant.

'Well...I want it to be more...um...innocent? Like...like...I was a rea...' he stopped himself. 'Like, more snuggly? You know? Maybe some...cuddles...at bedt- at night time...I'd like to be, um...held...sometimes...'

Tammy stared at him as if he had just sprouted a third head.

'So...you want me to be like your real mother?'

'No!'

'As if you were a real baby, right?'

'I...No...I mean...it's not like you're my real mother...I...I just want you to...'

'To what? Look after you? Like an infant?' Tammy demanded, her voice even.

'I...I...in a way...yes...I just don't want it to always be so...sexual...'

Tammy sighed. There was a silence before she finally spoke.

'Okay. Look. This is pretty weird to me. I'm not comfortable with it. But I love you, Andrew. I always will,' she looked up as she spoke, taking Andrew's hand in her own. 'But I don't know how to deal with this. I don't think I can...do that. I'm sorry.'

'Oh.' replied Andrew, simply. He hated himself at that moment. If he'd been honest from the beginning, maybe none of this would have happened.

'But,' Tammy started, nibbling her lip. 'BUT. I'd like to be okay with it. So...You can do something...something small...I don't know, you could wear a nappy to bed. And I'll try to get more comfy with the idea.'

Andrew's heart leapt. Everything was going to be okay.

---------------

Andrew's heart sank. Everything was going wrong.

But Tammy wasn't done yet...

'I tried so hard to...to accept this. I started off like...like it was no big deal, remember? I used to tease you and you'd smile and for a bit, I thought maybe I could be okay with it. But then, then you started to...I don't know. Resent me? You pulled away. It wasn't enough for you. And maybe I pulled away, too. It hurt to see you wanting me to give you something I wouldn't, couldn't give you. It hurt to see you shut me out because I couldn't understand. So...now we're here...'

'Where is here?' Andrew said, asking, for the second time that night, a question which he really didn't feel he needed to ask, but if he didn't ask it, he knew it would appear he didn't care.

'Here? Here is...my husband wants to be treated like a baby...NON sexually...and I can't cope with it,’ she paused, seemingly thinking hard about something. Her mouth opened again, this time drawing out the sound of one little word, waiting for a statement to follow it.

‘So….’

Andrew swallowed. He waited for the crushing blow. He didn’t know what she would say, but he could guess.

‘So you can’t wear diapers anymore around me…’

‘So I don’t want diapers in the house anymore…’

‘So I don’t love him anymore….’

‘So I /can’t/ love him anymore, and I think we need to get a divorce…’

He knew whatever was said next would change their relationship forever. He was about to lose something, he didn’t know what exactly, but he also knew life would be a lot harder without him. He looked up at her with grim determination, resigned to whatever awful things came out of her mouth next.

‘So…’ she began again, and Andrew felt himself stiffen, worry making his heart pound.

‘So I think we need to find him…find you…someone who can.’

Andrew gawped at her. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. What was she saying? Was she leaving him? She must be… she was just being the wonderful woman she always had been, willing to help him find a more ‘appropriate’ mate, someone who’d be happy to indulge him. He felt his eyes sting a little as tears formed, before, in the silence, another possibility occurred to him.

She’d been watching him closely, and seemed to notice as a flash of something, hope, realization maybe, passed across his face. He addressed her again, voice shaky.

‘Do you mea-‘ he was cut off abruptly.

‘I mean, just someone to do that for you, you know?’ Tammy explained, her voice emphasizing the word ‘that’ in a way that made it clear she found ‘that’ distasteful. ‘I…no sex. I’m not leaving you. I love you, I always will, I think. I hope. I just…I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Andrew. And…I know this is so, so important to you. I see it, Andy, I see how much you want it…’

It’s her turn to look scared now, her eyes filled with tears, rolling freely down her cheeks. She’s shivering, but it’s not cold. Wordlessly, Andrew embraced her, his own manly sob joining her small, squeaking ones, her voice cracking as she tried to go on.

‘I…I don’t want to lose you…I’m…I wanted so badly to m…make you happy, but I CAN’T. I’m a horrible, awful wife. I’m a fuck-up. I…I don’t know why you married me!’ she howls, throwing herself into Andrew’s chest, his arms soothing her, rubbing her back, shh-ing her like you would a crying child. A tiny smile formed on his lips for a moment, as he considered the role reversal.

But it was soon replaced by another kind of smile, the kind that happens when you realize maybe you’re not alone, that your partner is just as afraid of what’s happening as you. That he or she is afraid of the exact same things. It was a tearful, almost regret-filled smile.

‘If only we’d talked about this sooner…’

He shook his head, clearing his mind. Right now, he had to help Tammy feel better.

‘Ohh…oh hun…’ he said, his own voice wavering, fighting back another hard sob. ‘Shhh… you know, I’ve been worried about the same thing. I thought I was an awful husband. I wondered why you wanted to be with me. I didn’t understand. I thought…just now, you were going to leave me…’

Tammy jerked back, head snapping upwards to look at him, a look of something…hurt, Andrew decides. Hurt he’d think she would do that. Her face pink and flushed, her cheeks damp with too many tears.

‘Never,’ She retorted, instantly, and then she was back in his arms, crying anew. ‘Never…I…I NEVER want to lose you…’

Andrew smiled again, sighing, a little in relief. Of course, given her earlier outburst, he already knew that…but it was lovely to have confirmation.

‘I know Tam, I really do. Now, at least. But I want to let you know, I love you too. I don’t think you’re an awful wife…you’ve been so understanding. Please, don’t think I don’t love you, don’t think I resent you, or hate you or think ANYTHING bad about you, after you’ve tried so hard to fulfill me and my selfish, perverted desires.’

He felt her shaking her head, disagreeing, with the part about her trying so hard, or the part about his desires being perverted, or both, or something else…he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter at that moment.

‘So I’m just telling you, no matter what, I’ll love you. I’d have loved you even if you said I could never wear another diaper. I’d have loved you even if you told me you’d stopped loving me. I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself…’

Tammy’s cheeks turned a little pinker, her sobs dying down.

‘Are you sure?’ she asks, not moving to look at him.

‘Positive,’ he says, more confident now. ‘Do you feel better now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you ready to talk about…it?’

‘…Yes.’

There was a pause as Tammy pulled away, slowly, reluctantly, so she could look at him. She smiled, her eyes wandering over him, as if appreciating him newly. When she reached the diaper her expression clouded, eyes flitting back up to his, as if just remembering they had something else to discuss now.

‘So…do you mean it?’ Andrew asked, anxiously.

‘Yes.’

He looked unconvinced, so Tammy continued.

‘I don’t have a problem with it. I really don’t. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, an-‘

‘Why didn’t you ask me before?’

‘Wh-what?’

‘Why didn’t you ask me before?’ Andrew repeated, his tone not demanding or forceful, but genuinely curious.

‘I…well…’ Tammy looked away, embarrassed. ‘I was scared…’

‘Why?’

‘Well…first I was worried you’d say no, because she wouldn’t be me, and you wouldn’t be able to feel anything with her. And if you said no, I’d be out of options. I don’t know what would h-happen if…’ her voice broke again, eyes swimming with tears. Andrew frowned slightly.

‘What else?’

‘I was afraid if you said yes, you would love her...too much. You’d leave me. Because you don’t love me at all, not anymore…how could you? I mean-‘

Andrew squeezed her hand suddenly, shaking his head, stopping her from working herself up again.

‘Not true, love. I want you. I love you. I’m not going to replace you. Even if I agree to this, I promise,nobody’ll never replace you…are you sure you’re okay with this?’

Tammy nodded.

‘Yes.’

‘What…sort of things would she, uh, do?’

‘I don’t know,’ Tammy admitted, seeming to shrink back a little. ‘I mean…change you? Give you bottles…pacifiers…play with you like a real baby.’

Andrew felt his heart flutter twice; once at the prospect of a genuine Mommy in his life, after so long… and once at the sudden feeling of utter love for Tammy that swept over him. ‘The ideal woman…’ he thought, snorting somewhere inside his head at how corny that was.

‘Would I be allowed to call her Mo…’ Andrew blushed, dropping his voice to a whisper.

‘Mommy?’ he finished, waiting.

‘Yes. Of course. I mean, that’s what you want, right? A Mommy? For the…the baby inside you? Just no sexual stuff. Please. I need that from you.’

Andrew nodded unhesitatingly. The thought of having sex with another woman (beyond occasional fantasies) had never even crossed his mind. He was missing an emotional, platonic, maternal bond, not a passionate sexual one.

They both smiled a moment, almost in triumph. They were still together. This might just work out.

‘So…’ Tammy started, grinning now.

‘So…’ Repeated Andrew, a playful smirk joining hers. ‘What do we do now?’

‘Now? Now we sleep. I’m so tired. I just want to be held. I’m so…worn out…’ she leant forwards again, nuzzling his chest, smiling softly. She sighed, a long, happy sigh, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

‘Okay…do…you want me to go change before we-‘

‘No. I don’t want you to leave.’

Her tone was demanding that time, and Andrew chuckled. She wriggled, pulling the covers out from under them both, as they each shuffled and worked to lie down, his arms still wrapped around her. Their heads reaching the pillows, Tammy smiled wearily, shifting away a little, finding her husband’s body too warm for comfort. He leaned forwards and kissed her on the forehead.

‘Goodnight Tammy…’

‘Goodnight…’ she hesitated, wondering if she was really going to say this, worrying he’d take it the wrong way. She stopped hesitating.

‘Baby,’ she added, one hand slipping down and squeezing the soggy bulge of his diaper. She watched his face for a reaction.

Andrew blushed a little as she withdrew her hand.

It was a simple, loving gesture. A show of acceptance.

It hadn’t meant anything else. She wasn’t going to baby him. She didn’t see him that way. She didn’t want to be ‘Mommy’. She was his wife, and she was just showing how much she cared, how safe he was with her, how much she truly wanted him to be happy, even in this.

At that moment, that was all that Andrew needed.

He lifted his hand to squeeze her retreating one, smiling.

‘Thanks,’ he said, earnestly.

With that, she sighed slightly and turned around, snuggling into him backwards. Tomorrow, she thought, was sure to be a very interesting day.

702 notes · View notes

thef1diary · 23 days

Note

🎧 Max verstappen marry bruno mars

A Beautiful Night | M. Verstappen

Summary: Max discovers how much he enjoys referring to you as his future wife when you pretend to be engaged for fun one night.

genre: fluff, no warnings.

wc: 2.1k

celebrate 2k w me :) taglist form masterlist

A gentle breeze flowed through your bedroom windows as the soft morning sun shone. Inhaling deeply, you turned to face the opposite side, away from the natural light that would disturb your slumber, but you were still sound asleep.

Your hand rested on your lover's back, who had tucked his hands underneath his own pillow while lying on his stomach, snoring softly.

You peeled your eyes open and looked at Max with a soft smile spreading across your face. Even after having the chance to wake up next to him every morning for the previous several years, you continued to cherish these early morning moments. It was as though time stood still at that very moment.

You lifted your hand to brush your fingers through his hair since it would always end up a tad too tangled in the mornings. However, as soon as you did, you noticed that the ring you typically wear on your index finger was now placed on your left hand's ring finger.

Furrowing your brows, you turned on your back with your left hand held in front of you. Your eyes narrowed as you sought to figure out why the ring was out of place.

Then, the memories came rushing back to you, causing your jaw to drop as a light chuckle left your mouth.

It's a beautiful night, we're looking

for something dumb to do

It started off with classic bar hopping. An activity you and Max had decided to take upon since you had a free evening with quite a few hours to spare.

Before you entered the first bar of the night, you turned to face Max and slipped a ring from your index to your ring finger. "How many free drinks do you think we can get if we say that we just got engaged?"

Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you

Max laughed at the way you wiggled your fingers to show off the ring. He wasn't opposed to the idea as it would definitely make the evening rather entertaining.

But he still shrugged, "I don't think people are going to buy the story, especially with that ring."

You looked down at it, now adorned on your ring finger. "What's wrong with it?"

Is it the look in your eyes or is it this dancing juice?

He held your hand in his while his thumb grazed over the thin band of white gold studded with lots of smaller diamonds.

"It's not engagement worthy, you know I will get you a much shinier ring."

You slapped his hand away, chuckling, "I know you will, but they don't need to know that." You nodded your head towards the door of the bar, hinting at the potential crowd behind it.

Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you

"Then let's find out," he agreed, holding the door open for you as you began the night.

Mingling amid a sizeable group of locals, you had forgotten how many bars you've entered tonight, however the slight sway you had while walking can indicate that the number was slowly increasing.

Well, I know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go

Under ambient lighting, you noticed a crowd of university students joking among themselves in one corner of the bar, and heard the clinks of their glasses mixed with cheers over the background rock music.

This bar had been more crowded than the last few, but you still enjoyed it nonetheless. The buzz running through your body all the way down to the tips of your fingers had quickly made you forget how much you disliked larger crowds.

No one will know, oh, come on girl

You would have felt out of place if not for the friendly locals who have managed to kept you engaged in conversations. But then again, Max would tell you that you were adept at reading the crowd—at least more so than he was sometimes, even while tipsy.

"To celebrate the future married couple, here are some drinks, on the house of course!" On the bar top in front you, the bartender sets a tray with four shot glasses that are filled to the brim with tequila.

As you picked it up, the liquid splashed around a little bit, dripping over the edge and leaving traces of the liquor on your fingertips. You held the glass up in appreciation towards the bartender and then downed the contents inside alongside your lover.

Who cares if we're trashed, got a pocket full

of cash we can blow

You nodded slightly at Max with a teasing smile covered by the next shot of tequila you consumed, knowing that this was another successful attempt at your plan. These free drinks were adding to the ones you had began drinking at the previous bars.

Max watched with a smitten smile as you laughed along with a few other people who had asked to see your ring. Fortunately everyone who asked so far this evening, was a tad too tipsy to question the lack of a bigger diamond, only cheering in giddy happiness for a stranger before buying you both another round of drinks.

Shots of patron and it's on, girl

Once you exited the final bar of the night, the sky's darkness started to disappear, giving way to a paler blue hue that signified the impending sunrise.

Max's arm was resting on your waist as you walked side by side, however it was next to impossible to walk in a straight line. Laughing every time you accidentally bumped into each other, your stomach was now aching but the laugh bubbling up your throat never stopped.

Don't say no, no, no, no, no

"We should do that again," Max commented, and you couldn't help but look at him with a cheeky smile. "Why, you like calling me your fiancée?"

He paused, stopping you from taking another step as well. "If I had a proper ring, I'd get down on one knee right now and make you my fiancée."

Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

"Ring or no ring, my answer will always be yes." You stood in front of him, still facing him and placed your palms on his cheeks.

He gasped and shook his head, "you can't just say yes before I propose."

You chuckled at his antics, "why not?"

Max grasped on to your hand that adorned the ring, quickly sliding it off and holding on to it. "If you're going to say yes, let me at least propose."

And we'll go, go, go, go, go

He took a step back and almost stumbled over his own feet, causing you to let out a gasp in regard to his safety before it turned into laughter that echoed throughout the empty streets.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he watched you laugh, knowing the decision he was about to make would be the best thing he'd ever do in his entire life. Although he knew that he loved you endlessly and would never be able to imagine his future without you in it, tonight he realized that there was no reason to waste any more time to ask you the question that's been on his mind for a few months now.

He kneeled down on one knee and made a makeshift ring box with his hands, with the ring lying flat on his palm.

If you're ready, like I'm ready

Your eyes widened when he looked ready to give a short speech, your words leaving your mouth in a rushed manner. "Max, baby, are you seriously doing this now?"

He nodded, "I already knew that I wanted you to be my wife, to be my future, and tonight seems to be fitting in a way."

You placed your hands over your heart once he started off by saying your full name, slightly slurring over a few syllables due to the alcohol still buzzing in his system.

'Cause it's a beautiful night, we're looking

for something dumb to do

"I need you to know that you're everything to me, mijn liefje. I don't think I can spend a single day without you and I don't even want to know if I can. Ik hou van jou, and I will keep loving you until my last breath. Will you, the woman who owns my heart, marry me and make me the happiest man in the world?"

You began nodding before he could finish his speech, making his smile wider. "Yes," you still stated.

He held his hand out waiting for you to place yours in his palm which you obliged to easily. After sliding the ring on your finger, he stood up and immediately pulled you closer by his grasp on your waist, capturing your lips with his.

"I love you, my future husband," you mumbled against his lips, earning a light chuckle from him before he responded with just as much enthusiasm. "I love you more, my future wife."

Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you

Due to your shuffling about in bed, Max's eyes fluttered open before closing again as his eyes hadn't adjusted to the light yet. With his eyes remaining shut, his arms found your waist, sliding his body right next to yours.

His lips grazed your ear, and he muttered, "good morning, Mrs. Verstappen.”

You bit your tongue to keep a smile from forming on your face since you couldn't help but correct him: "Future Mrs. Verstappen."

"We can go to the chapel down the street and make it official," he suggested, blinking away the signs of sleep from his eyes as he turned to hover over you.

Is it the look in your eyes or is it this dancing juice?

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer with a smile gracing your face and eyes twinkling with delight, "that eager?"

Leaning closer to you, he placed a peck to your cheek. "I proposed to you while we were drunk, completely trashing my previous plan, of course I'm eager."

"You had a plan?" You asked, shocked by the piece of information he dropped casually.

Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you, oh

He groaned due to his own slip of the tongue as he rested his face in the crook of your neck. When he didn't respond any further than that, you threaded your fingers through his hair and urged him to show you his face.

With a sheepish smile on his face, he admitted, "I might've."

"Tell me," you prompted but earned a shake of his head, "I can't."

Don't say no, no, no, no, no

"You already proposed, you don't need to hide it anymore," you reminded him, bringing your left hand in between your bodies to admire the sentiment behind your ring.

Max leaned his body weight on one of his forearms to free his other hand so he could grasp onto yours. Bringing it closer to his lips, he pressed a kiss on your ring.

"What makes you think I won't do it properly again?" He asked with a sly smile, pressing another kiss to the back of your hand.

Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

You hummed, knowing Max well enough to have an idea that he would do something private yet extravagant. "I don't think it works like that, I already said yes."

"Well, you can say yes again."

Sighing, he rested his back on the bed, laying an arm across your pillow and with a gesture of his fingers, you shuffled closer to him. Resting your left hand on his chest, both of you looked at it, admiring the symbol of your future.

Then you huffed, "are you seriously not going to tell me?"

And we'll go, go, go, go, go

His response was immediate, clicking his tongue, "nope."

You turned away from him; away from the warmth of his body and into the torture of the sun shining directly in your eyes. But you didn't budge, only muttering, "I don't like you," in his direction.

If you're ready, like I'm ready

It took him less than two seconds to adjust his body and cuddle you, engulfing your smaller figure. His arm wrapped around your waist, while his other hand found the perfect spot to keep the sun from stinging your eyes.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he murmured in your ear, aware that your previous remarks lacked sincerity.

'Cause it's a beautiful night, we're looking for

something dumb to do

Your frown faded into a slight smile, but you didn't turn to face him because you were now in a comfortable position.

You placed your hand over his, which was resting on your waist, and interlaced your fingers, ready for a future with him.

Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you

Taglist based on the form: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @helenemandl6 @charlesleclercsonlywife @thedecalcomania-blog

#f1 fic #f1 fanfic #thef1diary fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #di celebrates

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seresinhangmanjake · 3 months

Text

The Favorite

dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

Summary: The Daggers meet your and Jake's baby girl for the first time and arguments over who will be her favorite aunt or uncle quickly follow.

Notes/Warnings: part of the Oh, Baby Universe, but can be read alone. Based on a suggestion from @tgmreader

Words: 1288

Between the ‘She’s like your clone, Jake,” from Nat, the ‘Is anyone else surprised Hangman beat us to the baby train?’ from Bob, and the offended ‘Wait, you two were hooking up and you didn’t tell me?’ from Javy, Jake is clearly exhausted. Not that he didn’t anticipate being worn out after introducing his daughter to his team, you both did, but the last forty-five minutes have far surpassed expectations.

Being confined in a room with the Daggers historically proves to have its drama—whether in the form of unnecessary argument or playful teasing—but with your new baby girl at the center of everyone's attention, drama has started to take on new meaning in the form of obsessively watching Eve as if she might start doing tricks or giving you both grief for not spilling every detail of your ‘sneaky, secret relationship’ before this moment. To your relief, though, they’ve steered clear of asking questions about your absence over the majority of the past year. They don’t push, knowing that information will be revealed with time.

“It’s just…” Mickey begins as his eyes snap back and forth from the baby to Jake, “...so weird.”

When you chuckle, Jake rolls his eyes. “It’s not weird,” he counters.

“It’s pretty weird, man. You’re, like, a dad.”

“Lots of people are dads,” Jake says as he runs his knuckle down the cheek of the infant in your arms—his new little love.

“Yea, but you’re the dad of Y/N’s baby.”

As Bradley snorts at the obvious, you look to Jake to check on the effect of Mickey’s unfiltered words. His eyes are on your face and you smile to soften the sudden twinge of uneasiness speckled amongst the various green flecks in his irises.

Though Jake has expressed mental security in his place within the lives of you and your child, you fear what might occasionally be running through his mind. The last thing you want infecting his confidence is the consideration that maybe this situation is weird, that maybe he isn’t meant to be the father of your baby because he wasn’t intentionally chosen for that role.

Eve wasn’t planned. You can’t change that. And the choices you made when you discovered your pregnancy are enough to have any man reasonably questioning himself. But there is no other man you want as your baby’s father. Jake is it. You’re pretty positive he was always meant to be it, because your brain refuses to picture another in his place.

Jake’s stare breaks when Bradley starts to speak. “We all knew how these two felt about each other, even though they were doing nothing about it,” he says, shooting you and Jake a smirk so quick it’s barely acknowledged before he looks back to the group of pilots. “I promise you guys, once it fully sinks in, it won’t feel so wild that they accidentally made a tiny human.”

Nat’s head snaps up from Eve, but her finger remains wrapped in the infant’s smaller ones. “When, exactly, were you given enough time for it to sink in?” There is suspicion in her tone. Then her eyes go wide. “Did you already meet the baby?” she asks before turning to you and Jake. “Did Rooster meet her before the rest of us?”

As if sensing the shift in the room, Eve lets out a little whine and starts to wiggle in your hold.

“Yes, Nat,” Bradley answers for you. You can feel the sass bubbling around him as his arms cross over his chest. “By a whole three days.”

“Three days matters,” she retorts. “It could be the difference that makes you Eve's favorite. The earlier the interaction, the better.”

“She’s only a few months old. You might still have a chance, Nat,” Reuben chimes from the sideline.

“Don’t bet on it,” Bradley snorts. His sass is so expertly conveyed you’re shocked his tongue doesn’t stick out to accompany his words.

You’d scold him if not for the fact that these two often enjoy ruffling each other’s feathers when the opportunity arises. It’s all in good fun, but sometimes, depending on the topic, the teasing aspect goes over their heads.

You suppose it’s flattering that being your child’s favorite is enough to cause a bit of an upset, but it’s wasted energy. Jake will be Eve’s favorite. The Father and The Favorite are not mutually exclusive, and you know in a room full of the people she loves most in the world, Eve will never fail to run straight into her father’s arms.

Nat, however, does not consider that inevitability as she carefully slips her finger from Eve’s to face the six-foot-tall brunet head-on.

Jake mutters a curse, fingers rubbing across his forehead.

With his hands raised, Javy takes a step forward as if to prevent a physical altercation. “Alright, everybody take a breath,” he says. The winning, cocky grin that has tempted a woman or two or thirty is spread across his face. Then he points to himself. “I'm going to be the favorite. I'm her father's best friend.”

“I don't think that guarantees anything,” Bob says, only to receive a scowl in return.

It’s then that Mickey throws his own name onto the ballot. “You know, if we base this on entertainment value, she’ll obviously like me best. I’m the funniest.”

“Also the most irresponsible,” Reuben adds.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Um, everything,” Nat clarifies as Bob nods in agreement. “For one, you’ll never be the babysitter.”

“If you were the babysitter you’d need a babysitter,” Bradley chuckles, patting Mickey on the back.

Bob clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his nose. “That is very true; it would be chaos. What baby Eve here could use is a calming presence, and that’s me, so–”

“I’m calm,” Reuben interjects, pulling a scoff out of Javy.

“You also come up with insane ideas that make everyone miserable,” Javy says. “What are you going to do, have the baby compete in challenges only to suffer through two hundred push-ups if she loses?” he asks. “I think that’s grounds for immediate disqualification.”

Reuben’s response is drowned out by the additions of each pilot arguing their case for favorite aunt or uncle, and you’re too drained from the last hour to attempt untangling voices.

Jake sighs and shakes his head before taking your hand in his and leading you out of the living room, up the stairs to where Eve sleeps. You’re thankful that, at some point, despite the noise filling the room where your friends remain, your little girl managed to fall asleep. As you place her in her crib, you glance at Jake.

He’s sitting on the loveseat on the opposite side of the room, one hand running down his face, the other reaching out for you. When you take that hand, he pulls you onto his lap, shifting around until you’re comfortable with your back leaning against the armrest. A palm draws a lazy line of warmth up and down your leg.

“You’re a trouper, Honey,” he says, eyes unmoving from your knee.

You chuckle. “It could’ve been worse.”

“We should’ve done it one at a time; single-file line. The last thing I wanted was for you to be overwhelmed.”

Sitting a little straighter, you reach up to cup Jake’s cheek and guide his face toward yours. “Jake, I wasn’t overwhelmed. I’m fine and so is Eve,” you promise him. “Besides, they’re my friends, too. I knew what we were getting into.”

Jake leans into your touch before turning his head to kiss your palm. “They’re all crazy,” he says.

“Yes, but they’re ours,” you reply. Then you nudge your head in the direction of the crib. “And now hers.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun hangman #dad!jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fluff #tgm #tgm fic #dagger squad

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p0ckykiss · 3 months

Text

the sound of flowers blooming - lee heeseung

summary -> you are shooting a couple photoshoot with your co-star lee heeseung. but what happens when you're told to look into each other’s eyes, and you realize that you really wanted to kiss him, and not just pretend?

warnings -> female reader x heeseung, alternate universe - actors, feelings realization, first kiss, fluff

"come quick, y/n. we’re already late because of this meeting."

minji, your manager, grabbed your shoulders and pushed you out the door and into the underground parking lot.

"you’re telling me to hurry just because you're impatient to see your boyfriend,” you groaned, dragging your feet towards the van parked in between two smaller cars.

“i'm sure you're impatient too, your beloved heeseung is waiting there too,” minji playfully tapped your back, “he must be looking so pretty all dolled up for your photoshoot.”

you rolled your eyes, although some odd feeling lodged itself at the pit of your stomach when you thought about having to shoot a couple photoshoot with your co-star. you heard minji click on the car keys, and watched as she came to slide the door open for you.

"beloved?" you scoffed, "i hate him."

"hate?" minji repeated as she sat down in the driver seat and started the car, glancing in the rear view mirror to look at you with a raised eyebrow. "then why does your face light up everytime you see him? and why do you smile at him like he hung the stars one by one in the sky?”

"that’s acting! if you film a romance drama with someone of course you have to look at them as if you’re in love with them in front of the cameras!” you replied in one breath. “i’m an actor, acting is what I do… what kind of bullshit are you spitting?”

“hey, watch your mouth! i’m still your manager! i regret ever telling you to talk to me as if i was your friend, you've gotten way too comfortable.”

✻

in the span of maybe 10 seconds, you found yourself sitting down in a chair, with hair and makeup stylists preparing you in a hurry.

"done. not surprising for our beautiful y/n, we don’t need much to make you look pretty,” said the hair stylist while looking at your reflection in the mirror.

you shyly bowed your head and thanked her, which earned you a fond smile and a gentle pat on the head -while making sure not to mess up your hair, of course. as soon as she stepped away, you turned around in your chair to see if heeseung was here, but he was nowhere to be found. where the hell was he?

“y/n, come this way please.”

a staff member clapped their hands together to get your attention and led you to the photoshoot set on the opposite side of the floor.

as soon as you walked in, you were left speechless. in such a beautiful space, was an even more beautiful man waiting for you. like a flower among the flowers surrounding him, there heeseung was. his wavy blonde hair suited him perfectly, framing his delicate features with gold highlighting his cheeks and making him shine in a way that could rival the sun. when your eyes met, a smile bloomed on heeseung's face. wow, so beautiful- wait, get it together y/n.

“y/n, you came?”

his voice was also so sweet… you hated it.

“yes, i’m here.”

“they styled your hair really prettily,” he gently touched a strand of hair dropping on the side of your forehead, spreading goosebumps all over your exposed arms. his touch was so soft… you hated it. “it looks good on you.” heeseung smiled. that smile was about to ruin you.

✻

“one last pose. y/n, please come a little bit closer. look into heeseung's eyes, as if you were about to kiss.”

your eyes opened wide in surprise upon hearing that, and you stopped in your motion. it was nothing new for you to be so close, especially when filming a romantic comedy, but somehow it felt different today. heeseung's lips formed that smirk he often had, the same smirk that made your heart flutter, and he touched your cheek to tilt his head so your eyes would meet. time stopped, as if it was only the two of you in the room. at that moment, you heard it, the sound of flowers blooming.

“okay, cut!” the photographer clapped. “everyone, you did well. thank you.”

you brushed heeseung's hand off and shot up. you hurriedly bowed and greeted the staff before running to the waiting room.

it was hot. too hot. as soon as you bolted in, you grabbed a water bottle and chugged it before taking a deep breath.

why… why the hell did you feel like you were suffocating whenever heeseung came close? you sat down with your head in your hands, pressing your cold palms on your eyelids.. you couldn't figure out what you were feeling. was it truly hatred?

you hated how heeseung's smile made your heart race. you also hated that heeseung had such pretty lips. you also hated how much you wanted to kiss heeseung. you wanted to believe that you truly hated him because if you hated heeseung, it would make everything so much easier.

“what are you doing? why did you run away?”

that damned voice. when you heard it, you weren’t sure you could hold yourself back any longer.

you replied with your head still in your hands, not courageous enough to look into his eyes. “it was hot. i wanted to get changed quickly.”

heeseung brought a warm hand to your shoulder. it felt like the contact was burning your skin through the layer of fabric separating you. “you’re still wearing the same shirt, though? do you want me to help you with that?”

frustration rose within you. you pushed his hand away and stood up, looking at him with a dark gaze, “please, leave.”

"but i don’t want to." heeseung tilted his head, showing that insufferable smirk once again.

"heeseung, please leave." you pleaded, your voice sounding much weaker than you wanted it to.

heeseung took one step closer, and your heart began to race against you will like it always does. it's like you're not master of your own body anymore.

"i said i didn’t want to. tell me. what’s going on?"

you passed a hand through your hair, gripping a fistful of it and sighed. “i'm saying this because i don’t know what i’m capable of doing right now. so. please. leave.”

a look of surprise briefly ghosted on his face before taking another step closer. it was getting dangerous. he was way too close, causing you to forget how to breathe again.

“y/n… no way…,” his smile widened, “don’t tell me you really want to kiss me?”

you couldn’t hold his intense gaze and looked down at the ground where nothing could draw you in and trap you. “can you please just leave me alone?” you mumbled, although you weren't sure it was what you wanted anymore.

heeseung brought a hand to your chin and tilted your head up so you would look him in the eyes, knocking the air out of your lungs. “no. i don’t want to leave. i told you, i don’t want to. do whatever you want. i was waiting for you to.”

your brain short-circuited at those last words. you couldn’t speak another word. was this real? was this a dream? did heeseung really say that? was he acting again?

“will you just keep staring at me like that? or will you stop holding back and actually do what you've been craving since we first met?” heeseung asked.

“ugh, will you shut up, lee heeseung?”

you grabbed heeseung's shirt and pulled him in until your lips met before he could utter another word. finally, you really kissed him. it was even better than when filming the drama, because you didn't need to think about when to stop, when to close your eyes, or how to make it look good for the camera. without a care in the world, you kissed him because you wanted to.

as heeseung's hand made it's way to your waist, you heard it once again… the sound of flowers blooming.

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marvelfanfics1 · 5 months

Note

Paci kisses 🥺 I lub it!!!!! And so you can do may be winterwindow x little reader x little Peter where the reader Slips in babyspace and always wanna give them paci kisses so they are at the avenger tower on a Visit and baby goes to uncle Steve and give him a paci kiss on the cheek and then she goes to everyone and gives all paci kisses and little petie get jealous (may be tom Peter) and crawl to him and gives him paci kisses all over his face after that she climbed on daddy's lap and gives him paci kisses like she does with mommy and everyone adores the scene 🥺🥺

Kisses for everyone

Pairing: cg!Winterwidow x little!reader x little!peter

Warnings: Age Regression, lots of kisses, pure fluff, jealousy, not proofread

A/n: This has been sitting in my drafts for so long I'm sorry 😭🙏🏻

⭒𖥸⭒

The second the elevator door opened to the common floor Peter ran out and jumped on the big couch, reserving a seat for him and you like he does every time for movie night.

Bucky shook his head with a smile and turned his attention to you. Today you felt smaller than usual, which neither your caregivers nor Peter mind. They love you, doesn't matter the headspace.

"You okay, baby?" he asked and you nodded, smiling behind your paci you leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

Bucky walked over to Peter to hand you in his awaiting arms, knowing the boy could get fussy when he doesn't have his cuddle partner. To be fair, Peter is very protective over you and when you're in babyspace he's constantly on alarm, making sure you're happy and safe.

Half an hour later the common area was filled with chatter and laughter, everyone talking about how they have been before it was time to decide on a movie together. While the heroes chat you were going around giving each person a cuddle and a paci kiss, it's nothing new to the others how affectionate you can be.

Right now you were on Steve's back, arms wrapped around his neck and giggling, moving your head forward to give him a paci kiss against his cheek and letting out a surprised squeal when he pretended to drop you. If only you knew that you were the only little having so much fun at this moment. Peter was pouting on the couch with his arms crossed.

He doesn't know why he feels this way but seeing you giving everyone in the room the love and attention that he and your mommy and daddy were usually getting only, has him sulking on the large couch.

Natasha being the attentive assassin she is noticed almost instantly what was going on. She stopped her conversation with Clint and made her way to sit next to Peter nudging his shoulder.

"Wanna tell me what got you all pouty?" she teased, pulling slightly at his bottom lip that was jutted out.

He smiled a little but went back to frowning at his mommy before mumbling. "Just wanna have tiny for me alone..."

"Ah, I see..." She replied, moving some of his curls from his face and leaning closer to whisper to him. "Give it some time and she will be glued to your side."

On the other side of the couch, you were sitting on your knees between Bucky and Steve, occasionally listening to their conversation and looking around until your daddy tapped your thigh to get your attention.

"I think Peter needs some snuggles from his little sister, you think you can help him out?" he asked and you nodded your head proudly, a big smile forming behind your paci.

You instantly crawled your way over to Peter, shocking him first but he smiled the second you leaned forward to give him a paci kiss, and not just one, you kissed him all over his face until you were sure he was his happy self again.

"Lub Petie," you said proving it by giving him one last paci kiss on his lips.

"I lub you too, Tiny." he smiles brightly wrapping his arms around you to pull you in for a long hug.

When you were sure he was satisfied with the attention you gave him you switched from Peter to sitting on Bucky's lap, reaching over to play with your mommy's hair and also giving her and your daddy a paci kiss while the others cooed at the whole interaction.

⭒𖥸⭒

Taglist

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @paisley-yy

Crossed out are the ones I somehow can't tag!

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gaming-universe · 6 months

Text

How You Met || Call of Duty Preferences (1)

Authors Note: This is the first part of my Call of Duty preferences series. I had a lot of fun writing this one. So please enjoy!

Gifs by: @dustysalmon @codsona-moved @daniel-bruehl @une-femme-de-lettres @echo3one @wardencouslands @collinnmckinley @cssndra-cain

John Price

With the six months of recovery beginning to drive you insane, you felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders when Laswell called you in a few weeks early.

Her intel indicated that Al Qatala had planned an attack on Piccadilly Circus in London a few days from now, and she had no one else to call in on such short notice. When she had called, you thought that she might have wanted to meet for coffee, as the two of you usually did every week or so to escape the chaos of life. When she told you that she needed you for a mission, you jumped at the chance, anything to get you out of your stuffy house.

Informing her that you would be in London within twenty-four hours, you packed your bags and headed to the airport, where a plane was already waiting for you. Laswell had texted you all the information you needed for when you arrived in London. You would be met by the man she had put in charge of the entire operation, Captain John Price. You had heard of him in your many years of service, but you had never actually met him. But Laswell spoke highly of him, and you valued her trust in judgment.

As you stepped off the plane and onto the tarmac, your eyes landed on a black SUV parked alongside a maintenance road. Beside it stood a man: tall, arms folded across his chest, beanie on top of his head, with an impressive beard and mustache.

You recognized him from the file Laswell had sent you hours ago, and despite his seemingly warm clothing, Captain Price looked slightly cold in London's cool and overcast weather. He smiled kindly as you approached, stepping forward and extending his hand in greeting. "Lieutenant L/n, thank you for coming on such short notice..." Price spoke politely, taking your smaller hand in his larger calloused one and shaking it firmly.

You smiled up at him in return, goosebumps forming along your skin as a cool breeze blew by. You shivered, a small laugh leaving your lips as Price took your bags from your hands. "Not a problem, Captain..." you replied watching him intently as he placed your bags in the back of the car "Besides, I kind of owe Laswell for coffee last week".

Price chuckled, closing the car door and turning to face you fully. He grinned, "Let me guess, she paid for it?"

"She wouldn't let me, despite the many times I insisted. I think she still feels guilty about what happened in Mexico."

Price turned, kindly opening the passenger side door for you. "She told me about that..." he spoke lowly, looking you up and down carefully, examining your form with a slightly worried expression "...are you sure you're up for this?"

You scoffed, climbing inside the SUV with a small huff of effort. You eyed him cautiously, a stern expression that made Price freeze. "I have been cooped up in my own damn house for six months, attending mandated physical therapy for an injury that healed three months ago. I am fine. If you have any objections, you can speak to Laswell."

For a moment, your eyes met his, and you could see by his expression that he was thinking things over. Then, with a nod of his head, he closed your passenger door without hesitation.

Price took a moment to himself to release a long nervous sigh. As he walked to the driver's side, he couldn't stop thinking about how highly Laswell had spoken of you, and that you were the first person that came to her mind when he had asked for a trustworthy taskforce. He had read your file, and to say that he was impressed was an understatement. He was in awe.

You were exactly what he was looking for, and you were the exact person he needed in the fight against Al Qatala.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

This really wasn't how you wanted your first meeting with Taskforce 141 to go.

Your morning hadn't started off well. Firstly, your alarm didn't go off, and you arrived late to Laswell's briefing. All eyes landed on you as you entered the room, heat flushing to your cheeks as you mumbled a quiet apology under your breath. As Laswell introduced you to the others, you smiled awkwardly in greeting, praying to god that after your late arrival, your day would only get better from here.

But of course, life likes to play cruel tricks. Hours after your first briefing, you dropped an entire stack of files in the hallway, the contents scattering everywhere all over the floor. After that, you got lost several times on your way to your office, cursing yourself every time you asked someone for directions. And to top it all off, the final straw in your terrible, horrible, very bad day, was spilling coffee all over yourself in the mess.

You had been hiding in the women's bathroom for the past few hours, trying desperately to scrub the coffee stain out of your blouse with some wet paper towels, but to no avail. Frustrated with yourself, and the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment sitting uncomfortably in your chest, your eyes welled with tears. As you threw the paper towel in your hands into the bin by your side, you released a long and heavy sigh. As you stared into the mirror, taking in your disheveled appearance, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Y/n? Are you in there?..." a low voice asked from the corridor, "...it's Kyle, I saw you walk in here about two hours ago, and I wanted to make sure that you were alright."

You released a small huff, your shoulders slumping as your emotions finally spilled over. You remembered Kyle from this morning, Gaz, as Price had called him. He had been so kind to you this morning after your awkward late entry and had offered you a seat next to him during the briefing. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you sniffled and cleared your throat, and replied quietly, "I'm fine. I just need a minute."

The door creaked open slightly, and you watched as Kyle's arm squeezed through the crack in the door, a blue sweater clutched in his hand. "I uh, I have a jumper here if you want it. I saw what happened in the mess and thought you might want something to cover up that coffee stain."

A small feeling of gratefulness welled inside your chest as you approached the door, taking the sweater from his hand with a small 'thank you'. As you pulled the sweater over your head and placed your arms through the arm holes you opened the door and stepped back out into the corridor. You met Kyle's eyes with a grateful smile, "You didn't have to do that" You spoke softly, biting your lip as you folded your arms across your chest. He shrugged, leaning against the wall casually "It's fine, you looked kind of distressed, so I wanted to make sure you weren't having some sort of panic attack".

You laughed, "I was getting there, but that's unrelated for now" You replied, before groaning and burying your head in your hands. "Today has been the worst day of my life. I look like a fucking mess, and I've embarrassed myself too many times today."

Kyle chuckled, "Everyone has bad days Y/n, trust me. Yours isn't the worst I've seen."

"Oh really?" You questioned.

"I watched Soap fall flat on his face during a training exercise last week. He just laid there while we laughed."

You couldn't stop the loud laughter that left your lips, your hands instantly flying to your mouth as Kyle smirked. "Oh no..." you exclaimed "...that must have been awful."

"It was for him..." Kyle shrugged "but it was fucking hilarious."

The two of you continued to exchange funny stories, until Ghost appeared at the other end of the corridor, calling for the two of you as a mission had been assigned to the 141 by Shepherd. Kyle gave you a small smile, before motioning with his head for you to follow. "I'll tell you what, after this mission, I'll buy you an actual coffee. I know a nice place off base."

You smiled brightly, nodding your head in agreement. "I'll hold you to that, Garrick."

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

He had been staring at you from across the room since you had arrived.

You had no idea what was wrong with him, or what his apparent problem with you was, but you chose to focus on Price's briefing instead. It was very off-putting, especially since this was your first mission with Taskforce 141. Laswell had recruited you at Price's request. Impressed with your skills and your file, she agreed with him that you would be a perfect addition to the team, and that you would also bring a little balance and reason when needed.

Noticing your slight discomfort, Johnny or Soap' MacTavish moved to stand beside you, sending a warning glare towards his friend cautiously.

"Does he normally glare at every new person that works with you guys?" You whispered, looking up at Johnny beside you with a questioning expression. He shrugged, "Not usually, it's putting me off as well, don't worry. I'll talk to him once this is over."

"Don't you think I should? If I've done something I want to know what exactly is pissing him off."

Johnny hummed lowly in response, turning his attention back to Price. "Only if you want to. If I had to guess, it might be because he doesn't know you. He hasn't worked with you before, so he's trying to size you up." You bit your lip anxiously, releasing an uneasy sigh as you folded your arms across your chest. "No, I know what being sized up feels like. This is something different."

He was examining you from head to toe, trying to determine whether or not you have what it takes to become part of the task force. So maybe Johnny was right, maybe Ghost was sizing you up in his own way. And you weren't going to let him intimidate you, even though it was kind of working.

The second you entered the room, Simon froze. It wasn't something that usually happened, he wasn't always lost for words. He had read your file, thanks to Laswell and Price, and he was impressed by your skills. Seeing you in person, however, there was just something about you that made him feel...strange. It was a good kind of strange, something that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Once Price had finished his briefing, you watched as Ghost pushed away from his position on the wall, and immediately stalked out of the room. You turned to look at Price, who was already looking at you with a confused expression.

You sighed, "It's me, isn't it? I'm the problem?"

Price shrugged. "I don't know, but he'll warm up to you. He just needs some time."

Your gaze fell to the table as you sat quietly in thought. You hoped that this would all work out, especially since you and Ghost would be working together for the foreseeable future.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish

"Have you met either of them before?" Alejandro asked, the two of you jumping out of the truck and stepping onto the tarmac, watching as the large plane landed on the runway ahead.

You shrugged as you moved to stand in front of the truck, leaning against the bullbar. "I've worked with Ghost a few times. As for Sargeant MacTavish, this would be the first."

Alejandro chuckled, "I suppose you all work under Laswell, eh?"

"You suppose correctly, although it has been some time since I've worked with a familiar face" You replied, smirking teasingly as Alejandro turned to face you, an expression of mock hurt on his features. "Am I not good enough company!?" he shouted over the sound of the plane's engines, throwing his arms out in an exaggerated manner.

You laughed loudly in reply, "You know I love you!"

Alejandro smirked back at you, before turning back to face the now-lowered plane ramp. You watched from afar as two men descended the ramp, the skull mask clearly visible even from this distance. You watched as Alejandro and Ghost spoke with each other, while the younger, unfamiliar man watched them intently.

His gaze turned towards you and you smiled kindly in greeting.

John froze. He couldn't take his eyes off you. Simon had mentioned that they were going to work with an old colleague of his, but he didn't mention that you were absolutely gorgeous. Whatever Simon and Alejandro were talking about now fell on deaf ears as he watched you give him a small wave.

Wow, Simon has been holding out on me.

A sharp jab to the ribs from his left brought John out of his daze, turning his attention towards Simon who was already glaring at him. "She will eat you alive" He warned sternly, knowing John's exact train of thought.

"What are you saying exactly?" John challenged, eyeing the Lieutenant with a smirk.

A deep chuckle came from his right, John turning to see Alejandro shaking his head. "He means exactly that, my friend. She's fierce. I'm tempted to ask Laswell to permanently assign her to the Vaqueros."

"Good luck with that..." Simon snapped lightly "Price won't allow her to leave that easily-"

"Are you guys done deciding my life and career for me!?"

All three men turned their gaze to see you standing a few feet away, arms folded over your chest and a knowing smirk on your lips.

They all froze, eyes wide as you approached. Eyeing them individually, you motioned with your head towards the truck behind you. "We have something more important than my life to discuss. You know better than that, Simon". John watched on in shock as Simon's gaze lowered to the ground, mumbling a quick 'sorry' under his breath as he moved to walk past you, heading towards the truck without another word. Alejandro followed, keeping his gaze downward as he too walked back to the truck.

As you rolled your eyes, your attention turned to him, John's entire body tensing. "You must be Sargeant MacTavish..." You spoke politely, extending your hand in greeting, "I'm Y/n."

"So I've heard..." He replied, taking your hand in his "...but please, call me Johnny." The smile that formed on your face took his breath away, the mischievous glint in your eyes doing something to him that he couldn't quite understand.

"Well, Johnny. Just so you know, I make my own decisions around here. The sooner you learn that, we'll get along just fine."

As you turned and walked away, joining Simon and Alejandro back at the truck, John released a long breath and mumbled lowly. "Oh fuck, I'm in so much trouble."

Alex Keller

Throughout the entire briefing, Alex couldn't keep his eyes off you.

Farah had informed him that Captain Price was sending one of his best man, or rather, woman, to help their effort against Al Qatala in Al Mazrah. Farah had been excited about your arrival. You had been with Price when Farah was rescued, and ever since then, she has considered you to be a sister.

She trusts you with her life, and that was good enough for Alex.

He watched you speak with Farah about the next move for her forces, and how you expertly dealt with the situation when Farah protested about laying low.

"If we lay low now, we lose the advantage-"

"And if we attack, there's a chance that they will be waiting for us" you countered, looking between her and himself with a calm ease. With your gaze moving back to Farah, you continued "You attacked two huge targets before I got here. If you attack a third, there is a chance that they are already anticipating us."

"But we have them right where we want them-"

"That may be so, Farah, but you're not listening to me..." You began again, a clear look of exasperation on your features.

Alex could see that you were very tired, and despite obviously being at the end of your tether, you still managed to remain calm. He had to do something.

"She's right, Farah..." Alex interjected, eyeing her with a warning glare, "she came here to help us, so maybe we should listen to her."

The grateful look on your features caused a strange feeling to form in his chest, your tired eyes conveying a small 'thank you' as you turned back to face Farah. She released a long sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She met your gaze with a small nod.

"Alright, you have a point. Come find me if Price or Laswell call" She spoke lowly, leaving the room with her head lowered.

Your eyes moved to focus on Alex once more, sighing heavily as you closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. "Thanks for stepping in there, you didn't have to."

Alex chuckled. "You did have a good point, and you were right. Another attack would have been too risky." He watched you nod in agreement, sighing once again as you rubbed your eyes, stifling a yawn.

Alex found a small grin forming on his lips as he moved to stand up from his seat. "Long flight?" he asked, moving around the table to stand beside you. You nodded again "From one warzone to another..." you chuckled, "I'm a bit exhausted, yes. But I'll manage-"

"No offense, Lieutenant, but you're not going to be much help if you're sleep-deprived" Alex spoke plainly, finding himself enjoying the sound of your loud laughter, as it echoed throughout the room. "Good point, I won't argue with a few hours of sleep" you answered, giving him a genuine though tired smile before leaving the room, and heading for your quarters.

Alex watched you leave and found himself muttering a low 'shit' under his breath, before exiting the room and walking down the opposite end of the hallway.

Alejandro Vargas

Yes, the cartel was becoming more versatile, but why Laswell was choosing to assign a DEA agent to his command was beyond him.

Laswell spoke very highly of you and promised that you would be perfect for the job. That didn't mean that he had to like you. He watched you from across the room as you spoke to Rudy. He was smiling down at you, and you were smiling up at him. You were getting along with all of his men, and it was pissing him off.

His men adored you, and Rudy adored you. And he...who was he kidding, you were fucking gorgeous.

There was no way that he would admit it out loud, he couldn't. He could see you looking at him from the corner of your eye, the glare on your expression causing his jaw to clench. You were doing something to him, and he hadn't spoken a single word to you yet.

You held Alejandro's gaze, watching as his jaw clenched, and noticing how his shoulders tensed. Since you stepped off that plane, you've felt like he hated your guts. It was an uncomfortable feeling, your stomach twisting uneasily as you refused to be the first one to look away.

"Please tell me that he isn't going to look at me like that the entire time I'm here" You muttered lowly, as Rudy followed your line of sight.

You saw movement in your peripherals, as Rudy moved closer to your side. "He won't. I'll make sure of it" he spoke lowly, his tone directed to his friend across the room. Feeling slightly relieved as Alejandro dropped his gaze to the floor, you sighed and turned to face the man beside you.

Rudy was already staring at you, a small grimace on his features as he huffed. "I'm sorry about him, he's usually more welcoming than this" he apologized, moving to stand in front of you and blocking your view of Alejandro. You shrugged your shoulders, pressing your lips together in a thin line, "I'm guessing I'm not what you guys were expecting?" You asked awkwardly, almost afraid to know the answer.

Rudy chuckled softly, meeting your nervous gaze with a kind smile. "He was expecting Laswell to send someone we knew, someone like Ghost or Soap. Hell, we didn't even know that Laswell had contacts in the DEA."

"She doesn't, I'm the only one..." You answered, grinning as Rudy's eyes widened in shock "...I used to work for her, but I got hurt on a mission and was honorably discharged. She helped me get a job with the DEA, and I owed her a favor."

Rudy nodded, an impressed look on his face. You could just see Alejandro over Rudy's shoulder, his glare softer this time, but still menacing nonetheless.

You felt your chest tighten, as you held his gaze once more, a feeling that made your heart skip a beat. Why? You had no idea. You weren't going to let this man get the better of you, no matter how dangerously attractive he was.

Rudolfo Para

Stepping off the plane, you took a deep breath in and sighed heavily. While the air in Mexico was humid, it was much better than the stuffy air on board the cargo plane.

Once down the ramp, and after you had stepped onto the tarmac, you were met by Alejandro. "Thank you for coming on such short notice..." He spoke kindly, leading you towards the awaiting truck only a few feet away, "if Hassan is moving as fast as Laswell claims, we're going to need all the help we can get."

"I'm happy to help. Besides, having me with you will help if he manages to cross the border" You replied, looking over at Alejandro with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. He chuckled lowly "Hopefully we will catch him before it comes to that."

As you approached the truck, you noticed a man standing beside the passenger door, arms folded over his chest as he watched the two of you approach. When his eyes met yours, you noticed that his entire demeanor changed. His eyes widened as he stood up straight, brushing invisible lint from his clothes as both you and Alejandro stopped in front of him.

"Y/n, I would like you to meet my best man, Rudolfo Para" Alejandro introduced, the two of you shaking hands.

Smiling innocently, you looked up at Rudolfo with a kind expression. "Nice to meet you, Rudolfo."

"Please, call me Rudy..." He spoke happily, a small nervous laugh escaping him as he pulled his hand away "...we appreciate you coming out here to help us."

"Not a problem, Rudy. I've been tracking Hassan for months, there's no way that I would miss this" You answered, your smile widening before you climbed inside the awaiting truck.

When the truck door closed, Rudy released a long, shaky breath. His eyes met Alejandro's, who was already smirking knowingly at him. His best friend knew him too well and could read him like an open book, the bright flushed redness to his cheeks aside.

"I know that look..." Alejandro teased, his smirk growing wider and more menacing "...though I can't blame you, she's gorgeous-"

"That's enough out of you" Rudy snapped, punching his friend's shoulder as Alejandro laughed darkly.

"Oh come on, don't deny it-"

"I'm not denying anything-"

"You were like a deer in headlights" Alejandro chuckled, mocking Rudy with an exaggerated wide-eyed expression.

With an embarrassed groan, Rudy clambered into the passenger side of the truck all the while trying to hide his bright red face from you. As Alejandro sat in the driver's seat, you cleared your throat awkwardly from the back seat.

"Hey boys, if you're going to talk about someone...make sure they don't speak the same language."

Rudy felt his heart stop.

Phillip Graves

You couldn't take your eyes off him.

In all your years of working with Laswell and being part of Taskforce 141, you had never heard of Shadow Company or Phillip Graves. The fact that they were brought in by General Shepherd made you suspicious enough, but the man did save your life via an airstrike on your mission to find Hassan, so maybe he wasn't all that bad. As a bonus, he was incredibly attractive.

You watched Graves interrogate Hassan before it was decided by Shepherd and Laswell that he had to be let go. Your jaw clenched as Shepherd gave the order, before Graves closed the laptop on the hood of the truck to your side. You heard him swear under his breath, his jaw clenching in annoyance as he turned to watch Ghost and Soap release Hassan.

"We were so fucking close" he growled, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at Hassan's retreating figure. You nodded, sighing heavily as you shrugged. "We'll get another chance..." You spoke plainly, turning your head toward him "I don't know when that will be, but I'm hoping we do."

Graves huffed a short laugh, his eyes meeting yours as he pressed his lips together in a line. "Oh we will, he's not getting off that easy" he spoke matter-of-factly, moving closer to you and staring down at you "Though I'm a bit pissed that we went through all that trouble for nothing."

"That is sometimes the job..." You laughed "Not everything goes to plan."

Graves nodded, giving you a kind smile. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the only noise being that of the desert at night, and the voices of Ghost and Soap only a few feet away.

As heat crept onto your cheeks, you cleared your throat awkwardly. "I uh, I don't think we've actually met in person..." You spoke lightly, "I'm Y/n."

"Phillip Graves..." the man beside you replied, smirking down at you with a playful expression, "I'm glad that I can finally put a face to a name. Especially one I rescued."

It was your turn to laugh, "I appreciate it, really. Though I think an airstrike is pretty extravagant."

"Oh, I don't call in an airstrike for just anyone..." Phillip shrugged, "but I figured I should make a good first impression."

You blushed a bright red as you laughed, shaking your head at his bold and flirtatious tone. It made your stomach backflip and your heart skip a beat. Maybe it was his accent, or maybe it was the way he was practically undressing you with his eyes.

There was an immediate tension forming between the two of you, one that caused your breathing to stutter, and your legs to-

"Oi! You two, let's go!" Ghost called out to the two of you, forcing both you and Phillip out of your bubble of sexual tension. Clearing your throat, you avoided Phillips's eyes as you immediately turned on your heel, making a beeling for your two teammates.

Phillip watched you walk away and muttered under his breath. "Fuck, this is going to be difficult."

977 notes · View notes

shibaraki · 1 year

Text

A FISH OUT OF WATER ┊ MIYA ATSUMU

synopsis: you are his constant in a life shaped by an ever changing element. he wants you. but you are the most oblivious creature he has ever met.

tags: GN reader, merfolk au, merman atsumu, human reader, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, falling in love, courting behaviours, obliviousness, cultural differences, first kisses, getting together

wc: 3.5K

↱ written for the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse server ↲

As a child Atsumu never understood other finfolks fascination with humans, good or bad. Ma was never reluctant to explain, rather, he just didn’t care to ask. There were far more important things to do in the reef. Like hunting shelled crabs, riding the currents, and eating oysters so he could spit pearls at his brother's head until he gave chase.

But three moons before his twelfth birthday, he found you.

Suspended in the water, bubbles dwindling around your frame as the fight bled from your muscles. You sank into a lifeless repose. A human. Small, smaller than him. Thoughts whirring to a stop, his mind blanked, and his tail propelled him forward in a blink.

You were light in his arms at first. Breaching the surface had been the scary part. Worse then, as he needed to drag you up onto the shore where he could be seen. The section of beach close by was secluded. Shielded by large rocks, tide pools formed in the crevices. Atsumu deposited you onto the sand, hissing at the tides that crawled behind and splashed at your chin as if to scold them.

You convulsed and curled in onto yourself like the tiny dumbo octopus that lived in the crevasse near his home. Water spurted from your nose and mouth. It gathered in the corners of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. Atsumu stared as you wailed and felt his own tumultuous emotions swell dramatically. Restless under his skin was the urge to calm you. To comfort you. But he had never been any good at that kind of thing.

So he reached out to pat your leg. It was covered in clumps of sand. Your shorts and shirt were drenched, and one of your feet had lost a flip flop. Then he repeated what Ma always told him, “Don’t worry, guppy. I’m here”.

That distracted you enough that your attention fell on him. Your immediate petrified screech reverberated harshly in his sensitive ears, both pressed flat to his head as he hissed and squirmed further back into the ocean to escape the sound.

“A—A monster! Get away!”

An odd sense of vulnerability washed over him. Embarrassment, shame, anger. At that moment, Atsumu decided all his assumptions must have been correct. You were clearly a few fish short of a shoal. “M’not a monster,” he’d shouted back, fins flared irritably. “Be grateful I saved yer life, Ugly! Ugly, ugly, ugly!”

Your face scrunched up at the insults, covered in salt water, tears and bile. A dull ache struck against his skull, hard and sudden. You had kicked him in the head and ran away.

Osamu laughed at the mark upon his return. Atsumu endured, kept his mouth shut and resolved never to go back to the surface. Ever! But curiosity still drew him back the next morning. And the next. Every day he checked, you were there, standing awkwardly on the beach and squinting at the horizon. Searching.

Ma’s voice echoed through his thoughts while he hid from view. Atsumu was great at lots of things. Loads better than Osamu. Racing, hunting, splitting shells, tying knots, playing ball. Not so great at making friends. Try to meet ‘em where they’re at, she said. Smile. Be nice. Find what they like and ask about it.

When he finally plucked the courage to make his presence known you’d been back in the tide pools. The ends of your shirt pulled out to hold all the shells you were collecting, heavily weighing on the wet fabric. A few tumbled down as you crouched to pick up a limpet, mouth curling into a pleased grin. Limpets are boring, he thought. And an idea struck.

Diving lower, Atsumu combed through the sand and seaweed until he spotted an iridescent spiral of orange and purple. The snail went helplessly as he clasped it between his webbed fingers, shooting for the rocks. You were still there, filling the silence with a directionless hum.

Atsumu broke the surface quietly. Enough distance between that you could not kick him again. “Hey!” he called, hands thrusted out toward you, head already turned toward his shoulder to brace for another scream. “Got a snail. Wanna see?”

Nothing came. He hadn’t realised how much your acceptance meant to him until then—when you crouched excitedly close by, unheeding of the tide soaking you further, and gasped as he presented the gift. Relief burst in his chest, warm and tingly to the tips of his fins at the careful prodding of your fingers to the creature in his palms; so intense that a wave of luminescence washed through his scales.

“I was looking for you,” you later admitted, voice softened in apology. “Thank you for saving me. I’m sorry I kicked you and called you mean things”.

Atsumu detailed the slight pout to your lips. Knees shifting in the sand. Eyes wide, gleaming hopefully as you waited for his reply. Something fluttered in his stomach the longer you looked at him. Horrified, the longer he looked back, the more it dawned on him that you were not ugly at all.

“Good. So y’should be,” he grumbled, smacking his tail up onto the shore. Heat blotched across his cheeks when you glanced at it in awe. Timid, he added, “…S’fine though. Didn’t hurt”.

Smiling gleefully at that as his gaze darted back and forth, you held out your pinky and promised to always be his friend.

Time elapsed. Seasons passed. No longer a juvenile, his colours started to come into full bloom. Rich gold around his hips and waist, tapering into black toward his large ruffled tail fin. Even his hair lightened as he took to adulthood. After his twentieth birthday the months seemed to come and go faster than he liked. You were his one constant in a life shaped by an ever changing element. Atsumu’s blatant affection for you remained his worst kept secret but none of the finfolk scorned him for it.

Osamu’s steadfast teasing was the only downside. Offhanded or feigning disinterest, he’d always ask, “What d’you keep doing up there?”

Atsumu bounced a hard clam off his brother’s thick skull, “Nothin’. Told’ya a million times, I just like the surface”.

“Uh-huh. Does the ‘surface’ in question happen ta’ have a name and a pulse?”

“You’ll soon have neither if you don’t shut yer trap, ‘Samu!”

Summer comes along and once again, Atsumu decides to remain in the reef. There’s a new den for him in the alcove, carved out from the outcropping of rock with his own hands, right next to a dense forest of kelp. The afternoon sun filters through it in rays as the currents shift, dewy light dancing on the walls.

Two years he has been eligible to migrate and find a mate. This will make it his second absence from the celebrations. Ma never pushed him despite the worry written plain on her face. Osamu only pinned him with a knowing look as he went. It will be the longest they’ve been apart from one another and he doesn’t like it.

Realistically he still could have attended—should have, maybe, lest the other pods find his refusal disrespectful. But Astumu had no compulsion to go. The very idea of leaving you threw his instincts into high gear and he needed to race the currents just to calm the urgency wracking his bones. Because somewhere amidst the years spent with you he became aware of the voice clamoring in the back of his head. One that had been growing in intensity for some time, but hadn't been quite as loud as it was until the elders advised him to take a partner.

You were his mate.

Atsumu had been subconsciously courting you since you were children. Bringing you food and gifts, letting his display scales flash lurid in your presence. He kept guard as you slept on the sand, picked the seaweed and dirt from your hair, swam in synchrony with you when the tides were calm, wrapping your legs around his tail until you become a knot of a person. In hindsight, it was embarrassingly obvious—

Yet you are still blissfully oblivious to it, and that nags at him like nothing else.

Raking claw tipped fingers through his hair, Atsumu paces the length of his den with thoughts of how to be more deliberate in his courtship. Human relationships were complex—purposefully difficult, in some cases. You might respond better if he simply confessed what his intentions were.

You’ve promised to come by the cove as soon as you’re free today. Adulthood came with plenty of changes for you as well as him. You have to work more than he likes. It means less time together; hours spent with other people, any of which could stake their own claim and take you from his reach.

Agitated, Atsumu darts to the surface the instant the sky settles into evening. The sun spreads a blush across the ocean’s surface, tepid but pleasant when it kisses his cheeks. Your distant figure is climbing over the rock formations with careful movements. At first he lingers in the deeper water, submerged below the nose to watch like he used to all those years ago.

“‘Tsumu!” arms high in the air, you wave and bounce on the balls of your feet when you spot him. Lazily, he rides the small wave that floods onto the shelf you are standing on, arms folding on the craggy surface to keep his upper half above water.

There’s a bag over your shoulder. It drops low with the weight it carries. “Look what the tide dragged in,” you let the bag drop, contents half spilling out across the floor. Familiar things. Suncream, bottled water, a change of clothes. Your foot comes to rest atop the worn volleyball as it rolls toward the edge, flinching when he splashes at you in retaliation. “You’re here earlier than usual. Did’ya miss me?”

Atsumu bobs, eyes rolling. “Was too busy making up my new den to think twice about’cha, sunshine,” he cracks a grin. You bat at the hand that threatens to circle around your ankle as you lower yourself to sit on the shelf’s edge, legs swinging over the depths.

“All grown up and living on your own now,” you pat his head in what is intended to be condescension but only ends up conveying fondness for him as your fingernails scratch gently at his scalp. “Proud of you”.

“Stupid,” he mumbles, tipping into the touch without shame as he bobs in the water. Peeking up at you through the hair drying unruly over his eyes his heart sits prominent at the back of his throat. You’re in your swimsuit under your clothes again, he notices. “Ya gonna get in with me today?”

“Planned on it,” you replied coyly. Atsumu inhales deeply. Gills flutter. He feels his fins flare around his hips and smothers the need to hide himself, nudging his cheek to your bare thigh. A beat passes and your smile dims somewhat, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately, ‘Tsumu”.

He rumbles his disapproval. Turning to nose at the skin there, Atsumu loosens his jaw and gently pincers your flesh between his teeth. Just enough to serve as a warning. The muscle and sinew remains relaxed despite it all, entirely sure he wouldn’t hurt you.

A heavy warmth drapes over his being at the heat, blood and beating heart echoing through your veins. “Gross,” you say without malice, flicking his temple at the lave of his tongue over your nonexistent wound.

“Ugly,” he returns, affectionate cadence unrestrained. You temper a smirk, kicking water his way as you tug your t-shirt over your head. Atsumu sinks into the sea’s cool embrace while you undress. Years ago you would have shied away from his blatant staring.

You’re welcoming to the arms that circle your waist as you turn to lower your body into the water. Atsumu doesn’t need to hold you up anymore, not like when you were young and easily drawn into the stronger currents, but he does so regardless. It earns him a soft huff, and a weak protest that is patently for show, but you let him.

A pleased sound vibrates in his throat before he can bite it back. You’re truly the softest thing he has ever laid hands on. Your fingers trail along his biceps, tracing the scales decorating his shoulders. Bioluminescence pulses through them with a shudder and you laugh at him, though not unkindly, “You’re lookin’ a lot brighter lately”.

Your ignorance is a blessing sometimes. Hiding his face in your hair his tail undulates and pushes your entwined bodies back toward the reef. Pride swells as your thighs cinch around his hips. The tides break around you, paving a pathway of foam from the shore to the corals. Below are vibrant formations, each unique and intricate, shelter for shoals of fish darting from the shadows stretching across on the seabed.

“Hey… can I ask you something?”

“Just did,” Atsumu snarks reflexively. You tighten your hold around his neck, leaning back to glare at him. You are about as intimidating as a sea bunny. He hums, “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

Something flits across your features. Hesitance, maybe. Then your anxieties are spilling out into the open, “Why’d you split off from your group? Are they mad at you or something? If it’s because of me—”

Words stutter into a pitched plea for mercy when he pointedly tucks his chin to suck a mouthful of water into his cheeks. You flinch preemptively, throwing your hands up to your face. Atsumu holds a moment longer, pursing his lips as if readying to fire. You push at his chest in a fit of nervous laughter, “Okay, okay! I get it, it’s not my fault—don’t spray me!”

He doesn’t spit it at you. The seawater falls from his lips, trickles over his chin and returns to the tide. “Yer ability to overthink never fails to amaze me,” your breathing hitches as he brings your foreheads together. The flustered look you cast him makes him squeeze tighter, unwilling to let go. “They’ve gone to the mating grounds, that’s all. Figured it was as good’a time as any to find my own territory”.

You pause, a crease forming between your brows. “The mating grounds? You’ve never mentioned that before”.

Atsumu shrugs. The movement ripples out around you in broad rings. “Never needed to,” he says. “Wasn't important. M’here, aren’t I?”

“Why?” the pressure from your thighs lessens, just a fraction, but he’s already scrambling to cup the back of your knees and keep them there. You freeze. Scrutinising any minute change to his expression, eyes bright and flickering. Atsumu avoids your gaze with his inner cheek between his teeth. Slow, a smirk pulls at your lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve got no suitors”.

Atsumu chitters, displeased. You shouldn’t find the idea amusing. He wants you to hate it. Sulking, he says, “Glad ya think that’s funny”.

Your face falls, then. And you are seeking the strong grip he had on you before, clutching at his shoulders. Your hands slide carefully up the column of his neck, featherlight over his gills. A shiver breaks out across his skin as you take his face into your hands. “Hey, no. I didn’t mean—” you stop to sound a frustrated groan. “I didn’t mean it like that, ‘Tsumu. I just—I thought you were joking. Why wouldn’t a mer like you have everybody vying for your attention?”

His mouth shapes around a small ‘o’. Then it draws wide, crooked and teasing. “A mer like me, eh?” he echoes, slipping back from your grasp to circle you in the water as a thrilling static buzzed under his skin. Need grips him and hems his scales, saturating them with rich gold hues. “Like what?”

“Stop fishing for compliments, loser. You know,” you struggle to tread water and spin to track his circular motions, pushing a vindictive wave of water at him. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen”.

The glow from his display is bleeding into the blue-green waters and attracting the attention of the reef dwellers but he’s too pleased to be mortified. He halts his stalking, crowding into your arms, “Y’think I’m—?!”

Your fingers thread into his hair. With all your might you dunk him under, cutting his sentence short as a wave rushes to fill the space in his open mouth. He laughs through the descent of your body, the force having pushed him low enough that he is facing your bare stomach. Remaining there, even as you relinquish your grip.

Other finfolk never really commented on his colouring. They hadn’t attempted to initiate courtship, either, not with his priorities elsewhere. You have praised his scales before but this feels different. In the context of being wanted—desired as a partner. Maybe it’s just pretty words. But you would not have submerged him in a fit of embarrassment if there weren’t some truth in it.

Fins vibrating eagerly, small trails of bubbles rise to the surface. You're patting at his arms now, worried why he won’t come up, expression distorted by the water. He sinks forward, face pressing up against your midriff. Your abdomen immediately clenches. Nails dig into the curve of his shoulder as he mouths at your sternum. Arms rise to wrap around your waist and your knees flank his ribs, squeezing tight.

A mer’s senses are that much sharper here. He feels your stuttered breath, hears your heartbeat quicken, smells the beginnings of arousal. It tastes like victory, overwhelming all rational thought. Head to tailfin his instincts are begging to drag you to his den and fuck you to sleep.

But he can’t. Not yet, and not the way he wants to.

Pushing into a soft, resting stomach, Atsumu takes a breath, shakes himself from his reverie and blows hard against the skin. You immediately convulse, trying to squirm out of his grasp. Overhead, your sweet laughter; muffled by the white noise around him but just as euphonious.

You’re panting when he finally resurfaces, your head tilted to keep your chin above water. The tide must be coming in. He supports you against his chest, making you a few inches taller. “You dickhead. Fishbrains,” you chide breathlessly, betrayed by the fond look in your eye. “Shit. Don’t do that again”.

“Mean. What happened to gorgeous?” Atsumu’s pout trembles, struggling to keep his amusement at bay.

“I'll take it back!”

“No take backsies,” he croons, nuzzling at your jawline. Dangerous. “Glad ya think I’m hot and all but that’s not the only part of courting. Like, proving yer able to take care of them. Hunting an’ preparing food. Presenting gifts. Helping them groom. Keeping guard. S’why it takes the whole summer”.

As he speaks a slither of dread settles heavy in his gut. The memories practically flit across your face, visibly connecting the dots. “But you’ve always done those things—” your voice loses strength, mouth opening and closing a few times before finishing, “for me…?”

The sky is bruised. Clouds have gathered by the cliffs, and the sun is almost tucked beneath the horizon, casting a final burst of orange across the glittering ocean’s surface. His display dims. “Yea’,” he clears his throat, summoning a playful tone, “Real sharp, angel. I sure know how to pick ‘em”.

Any confidence he had slips between his fingers like dry sand the longer the silence draws between you. A sad note catches in his throat. His gills twitch as he waits with bated breath. Warm, soft hands come to cradle his face. Your thumb sweeps gently back and forth beneath his eye.

You don’t laugh. You don’t even splash at him. Rather, reverently, you say “…‘Tsumu”.

He peers up to meet your gaze. Softened by dusk, you are watching him through lidded eyes, crinkled at the corners. A sharp sensation frissons up his spine. You tilt his chin, bringing him into a chaste kiss. Atsumu shudders, hands pawing desperately at your hips. You pull back a hair’s breadth only to kiss him again, full lips sliding together, a more deliberate press that grows fervent at the cautious lick of his tongue.

When you seek air with a sharp inhale your eyes flutter closed for a moment. Atsumu doesn’t bother to dull his purr, nor the soft flow emitting from his tail, forming a golden ring of light around your entangled bodies. Mirthfully, you murmur, “I can’t believe it. You like me”.

It feels right; like finally letting himself have everything he’s ever wanted.

He laughs quietly, tucking a kiss beneath your ear, “Somethin’ like that”.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader

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leighsartworks216 · 6 months

Text

A Spawn Could Get Used To This

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wrote this on 1 hour of sleep. I did proofread it. I am so so sleepy. I'm going back to bed after this

Warnings: embarrassment

Word Count: 1,163

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

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In the few weeks he’d been traveling along with this not-so-merry band of weirdos, Astarion got used to a lot of things very quickly. Gale loudly explaining anything at the drop of a hat, Lae’zel and Shadowheart fighting, the smells. Some things were positive, too. The sun was always nice and warm, and the odd sort of comfort being with a group of weirdos brought was nice. And, of course, some things were neutral.

One of the neutrals he’d adjusted to came in the form of you, their leader, and in fact the forms you could take on. He wasn’t sold on the whole druid thing before - all of them were tree huggers who cried over a crushed blade of grass - but, well, being romantically involved with one came with some quirks.

Quite often, almost any time you weren’t busy exploring or risking their lives, you would transform into a cat and go about the camp. If Scratch and the owlbear cub were any indicators, small fluffy things raised morale. Most everyone would scratch along your spine or behind your ears, all their woes forgotten for even a brief moment. It became rather commonplace. Mundane. What an odd thing to be called mundane.

Along with this came another little quirk.

After you did your rounds, getting pets and listening to their smaller issues, you’d come back around and rub against his leg. This very quickly became a way of asking for him to pick you up. You rather enjoyed being close to his chest and purring as loudly as possible.

Today was just like any other. You’d come back with a sack of stolen goods and bloody armor, drop everything unceremoniously in a pile, and transform to make your rounds. Well, he assumed that’s what you did. He was a little preoccupied when you disappeared, but he didn’t think much of it when a cat started wandering around the tents.

So he stood and flipped through his book and busied himself, waiting to drop the act and pick you up and cuddle. It was a rather good act, he thought. He’d furrow his brow or lightly chuckle, and become so engrossed in pretending to read he stopped noticing the passage of time, until something small and fluffy rubbed against his leg.

He closed the book carelessly as he looked down at his feet. Sure enough, a cat rubbed its cheek against him, already starting to purr. He grinned, though not too wide, lest the others begin to think he went soft. “Hello, my love,” he cood. “Want me to hold you?”

The cat meowed, head butting him. He chuckled and tossed his book onto a pillow, before bending down and lifting the darling creature - his darling creature - into his arms. It flipped to its back to be cradled like a baby in the crook of his elbow, paws stretching out and claws latching lightly to the fabric of his shirt. It purred so loud he was sure everyone else for a mile could hear it.

Unusually, it didn’t seem to like when he tried stroking its belly. He thought, perhaps, you just didn’t want that kind of contact today. He’d been getting used to the boundaries touch should have, and the fact you would respect them. It was only natural to have the same grace in return.

“Awe, you got yourself a little friend!”

Astarion startled at the voice, jostling the cat slightly, who mrowled at the movement. Sure enough, standing beside his tent toweling their hair dry was his beloved druid. Not in cat form. He gaped in confusion and awe.

“Darling, don’t take this the wrong way but, where the Hells were you?” The cat rolled to its side to knead biscuits into his chest. He barely felt the pinpricks of nails.

You gave him an odd look. “I went for a wash. Our battles were a bit bloodier today, and while you may like the smell of blood, I, personally, don’t. Especially when it’s up my nose.” You scowled, rubbing your nose at the memory. “Why? Did something happen?”

His frown didn’t disappear as he slowly replied, “No, nothing at all.”

You gave him another odd look. “Are you alright?”

He blinked, shaking himself out of his dumbfounded stupor. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but…” He looked down at the cat in his arms that seemed to settle down and prepare for a nap. “Well, dear, I thought this was you.”

The laugh bursts out of you unbidden, and Astarion glares embarrassed at you. You try to bite down the giggles trying to escape. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just,” you giggle and step forward to pet the cat. You have a bubbly sort of mischief in your eyes. He prepares himself for the worst. “You can’t tell the difference between us?”

“I didn’t think I had to memorize the precise hairs, no,” he bit. “It looked like you - why would I have any reason to believe it wasn’t?”

“You don’t need to be defensive,” you assure sweetly. “It’s cute! And it seems to like you.”

He huffed and looked down at the creature. The points of its fangs peeked out as it drifted off into sleep. The purring persisted, now almost reminding him of snoring. He pouted, though he hated when you called it that. He preferred the term brooding. “Yes, well, I was rather hoping it was my darling druid come to join me for a lazy evening.”

You chuckled and kissed his cheek. “I can do that. But I don’t think your new friend is going to want to leave you alone.”

He peeked at you from the corner of his eye. “I could be persuaded to share myself with both of you.”

“What if I turned into a cat and purred, too?”

He hummed, pretending to consider the deal, but the slight lift of his mouth gave it away. “I don’t know, darling. You know how much I simply loathe sharing. I think you can do better than that.”

You smile. “Okay, what if I throw a kiss into the mix?”

He grinned, the points of his fangs peeking out just like the cat’s in his arms. “That might even it out.”

You do your best to avoid disturbing the cat as you lean in to catch his lips. You taste of fresh spring water and the barest hint of a health potion. And he loves it. The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough before you pull away and kiss his cheek. “Get comfortable. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“I’ll count the seconds,” he teases, though there’s no hint of a lie in his voice.

You chuckle and walk away, back to the pile of stuff that Wyll and Gale are already sorting through, counting 1, 2, 3, 4… And 97 seconds later, when you and this stranger cat are both laying atop him, purring incessantly, he finds he could get used to it.

---

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the-travelling-witch · 5 days

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𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

summary: the human custom of sharing clothes had been an unfamiliar one for jade, but he has always been a quick study

pairing: jade leech x gn! reader (both have graduated nrc, but a lot of this is reliving school memories)

warnings: fluff, implied smaller reader; i think it made more sense in my head but have it anyway bc i never wanna shut up about him, please applaud my restraint to not name this ‘boyfriend material’

twisted wonderland masterlist

It was true that wearing clothes was a foreign feeling when Jade first came to the shore all those years ago. But he had come to like the human custom, no matter how tedious it might seem at times. Not only did he realise the way one dressed held a lot of power in the way one was perceived by others, it had also served him in making some fond memories.

The ones he remembered most vividly, however, were those which featured you at the centre of them. Through various means, like the course they had attended or familiarising himself with different types of media above sea level, Jade had learnt that sharing clothes was a thing done between close friends or romantic partners, often being hailed as a sweet gesture and being positively received by characters and audiences alike. So when you had caught the eel’s interest, he had decided to see what the fuss was all about.

Despite his tendency to curate situations which would bring about whatever outcome he desired, the first time the opportunity arose had been a happy coincidence. That day, it had started raining cats and dogs right as the bell signalling lunch break rang. Luckily, Jade’s last class of the morning had been in the building the cafeteria was in, so he could watch in amusement as students swarmed towards the building with various forms of rain repellent keeping them dry- or not.

You had been one of the poor, unfortunate souls who had left their umbrella at the dorm that day, a point made abundantly clear by the way you had sprinted with your PE uniform jacket held over your head in a feeble attempt of shielding yourself. By the time you had made it into the dry hallway, your jacket had been absolutely drenched, the rest of your clothes not faring much better. Witnessing your predicament and seeing a chance to put his theory to the test, Jade had slinked over to your side.

“Oya, if I had known you were this fond of water, I would have invited you to the Coral Sea before,” the eel had said, startling you with his sudden appearance. Your reaction had only served for the polite smile on his lips to grow a tad bit wider. “Yet, here I was under the impression humans don’t like getting their clothes wet. Perhaps I have been wrong?”

“You know well enough this wasn’t intentional, so drop the oblivious act, Jade,” you had sighed, rustling through your backpack for something and subsequently taking your eyes off him. “So what do you want? If you’re trying to rope me into a deal over a little bit of rain, I’ll have to disappoint–”

Something warm and dry had landed on your shoulders then, your gaze landing on the black fabric draped over your form first and wandering back to the tall student afterwards. With your mouth parted, opening and closing in the search of something to say, you had borne a strong resemblance to a fish out of water.

“I heard humans get sick easily after walking in the rain,” Jade had mused, tugging at his vest and shirt to make sure they sat correctly without his blazer, “and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“What are you–” You had shaken your head, overcoming your initial confusion as you began shrugging the jacket back off your shoulders. At that point you had been sure he had some ulterior motive and you hadn’t felt like picking up any shifts at Mostro Lounge that week. “I can’t take this from you.”

“Oh, but you can,” he had insisted with a smile, a gloved hand landing on your shoulder to keep the clothing in place. “If you are worried about my health, I am most touched. However, us mers are used to the cold and therefore aren’t as prone to catching one.”

“That wasn’t really what I was concerned about,” you had mumbled, crossing your arms. “I’m more worried about whatever strings come attached with this thing.”

“You wound me. Do you really think I would abuse my fellow student’s misery for personal gain?” Despite his words, he had chuckled at your resolute ‘yes, you would’. The hand on your shoulder had pressed into your upper back then to bring you in closer in order to throw you off with the newfound proximity, disguised as shielding you from the throng of people heading to lunch. “If this is what stands in between you and caring for your health, how about this: In return for accepting my blazer, you accompany me to lunch? I’ll consider us even then, I promise.”

You had studied the vice housewarden more closely, yet, as usual, his expression did not give anything away. Just then a chilly breeze had blown through the corridor, making you tremble as you instinctively pulled the blazer tighter around your body.

“Fine, I’ll accept,” you had relented through chattering teeth.

“Wonderful,” the eel had beamed down at you before guiding you forward, still with his fingers splayed over your upper spine. Students had parted like the sea when they had seen the second year approaching and it was a welcome change of pace from having to fight your way into a spot in the queue.

By the time you had found a table, you had slipped your arms through the sleeves of Jade’s jacket to better hold your tray. And when you rolled up the excess fabric to properly use your cutlery, Jade finally realised why lending someone your clothes was a popular trope in various media.

To say the piece was ill-fitting was an obvious remark, with Jade easily being one of the tallest students around, you were practically drowning in his jacket. It had been eye-openingly endearing for him to say the least. And that was even without factoring in the expression on people’s faces when they realised whose clothes you had been wearing, the Octavinelle band around your left arm added to the context of the scene being a dead giveaway. Yes, as a born predator of the sea, a possessive side of him had revelled in the feeling of staking his claim over you in this way.

But he had shoved the notion down as you had asked him if he liked the food that day and how his morning had been. While he had been able to tell you were still a little wary, cautiously phrasing your responses at first, falling into a casual conversation with you was easy enough. When the anecdote of his brother doing something reckless again made you snort before laughing, he had filed it away as something he wanted to see and hear more of, especially when he was the cause for it.

Lunch had passed a little too fast for the moray’s liking but with one glance at his watch and then one at the still pouring rain, he had quickly devised a plan to monopolise your time to the fullest before returning to your classes.

“Allow me to walk you back to your dorm, so you can change before your next lesson,” Jade had smiled as he pulled out his umbrella, his arm hovering around your back as you had exited the cafeteria. “I assure you, this favour comes with no strings attached.”

Looking back at it years later, perhaps that last part had been a lie, though he was sure neither of you minded. Because after that rainy day, you had interacted more frequently with pleasantly changed feelings.

On Jade’s side of things, he had been more fascinated with you and your reactions than ever and the image of you swaddled in his clothes had managed to stir these newfound emotions in him. You, on the other side, had started considering him as more than a devious loan eel and allowed the normally tightly locked thoughts and feelings for him to come out of their confinement little by little.

After playing cat and mouse for a while, you had taken all your courage, grabbed Jade by the collar and confessed, not able to withstand the tension and anticipation any longer. Of course, he had reciprocated your feelings in teasing delight, which, as your relationship had become public, had easily catapulted you up the list of the school’s lunatics in the eyes of many. But you couldn’t have been happier and, the initial complexities of navigating a new relationship aside, Jade was a dream of a boyfriend if he wasn’t hellbent on prodding and poking you for his own amusement.

So it came as no surprise that, during your school years, you had spent a lot of time at each other’s dorms when Jade wasn’t dragging you up some mountain with him. At that point, you’d felt as comfortable in his room as in yours, even if half of it was shared with the sentient tornado that was Floyd, leaving one half to be pristine and the other opposingly messy.

Jade fondly remembered the day you had come over to study for your upcoming potionology exam, your own dorm room too loud to concentrate and hoping to rope the merman into helping you with your prep questions, especially as his brother had been absent from their room that evening. While many regarded him as the sly and conniving one in the relationship, Jade had to admit you were very good at playing your cards right to where he found it increasingly hard to deny you. Perhaps this cheekiness was one of the things that drew him to you.

Considering you had given up on studying in your room pretty much immediately and had only grabbed your books before marching over to Octavinelle, you had still been in uniform when you joined him at his desk. Ever observant, Jade had quickly noticed the way you subconsciously pulled at the clothes or squirmed in your seat trying to get comfortable.

So being the amazing and reliable boyfriend that he was, he had fished some comfortable loungewear out of his closet; he had initially bought it to round out his collection of essential clothing items, though frankly, he didn’t wear it much himself. With no plans to work at the Lounge that night, he had thought that it might be a good chance to give the comfy clothes another shot.

In retrospect, maybe he should thank your uncomfortable uniform.

When you had both changed into the loungewear, he had not only been amused by the way the shirt, which was a regular fit for him, engulfed your upper body or how you had rolled up the ends of his sweatpants. With some playful huffs at his teasing, you had gone back to work until you had finished writing your study notes, at which point you had relocated to his bed, Jade joining you soon after.

Sitting side by side, your boyfriend had taken to quizzing you to see how much you had retained until he had felt your head drop against his shoulder, which was the first time he had taken note of how late it had gotten. For a few moments he had done nothing but study the way your chest rose and fell with deep breaths, your slightly parted lips inviting him to trace his thumb over the curve of them in featherlight reverence. To think that he of all morays would ever be treated to such a peaceful fragment of mundanity, it had made a warmth tug at his heart the same way the waves rolled over the shore in a calming rhythm, which persisted to this day.

It had pained him to wake you again, so could get ready for bed, persuading you sweetly into staying the night. Though he regretted neither getting to see your half asleep face while you had brushed your teeth, nor how he had been able to pull you close to him under the covers, curling his arms around you as his fingers had wandered over the warmth of your skin under his clothes.

In the comfortable darkness of his room, you had exchanged hushed whispers and murmured confessions as you had settled in his embrace, lulled to sleep by the steady beating of his heart and the lips that had spelled promises of safety and adoration against your skin. And for Jade, tugged deep into the crevice of his heart, there had formed the image of a future where this domesticity was normality.

Years later, after graduation, Jade could proudly claim that this fantasy now lived at the forefront of his heart, that he could fall asleep and wake up to your body next to his, cradled by the allure of forever. After all, for no one but those closest to him would he be up with the rising sun to prepare breakfast, humming under his breath as he relived those memories. Though he considered all his efforts paid off when he heard you shuffle into the kitchen before two arms wrapped around his middle and your head leaned against his spine.

“Good morning to you too, pearl,” Jade chuckled as finished plating the eggs on two plates, then knowingly slid a fresh cup of coffee within your reach. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, until someone decided to just leave me all by my lonesome,” you grumbled, detaching yourself from him so you could lean against the counter and take a sip of coffee, prepared perfectly to your liking. “I like seeing my beautiful husband’s face first thing in the morning but alas…”

As you stepped into his field of vision, Jade noticed you had chosen not to wear a piece of clothing of yours, but had instead plucked his black dress shirt from the chair he had draped it over the day prior. His dress shirt and nothing else. While it was long enough on you to hide what was for his eyes only, it still showed off the beautiful curve of your legs, ending tantalisingly around your thighs. The few buttons you had closed still displayed the sharp contrast between your collarbones and the softness of the skin peeking through below. It would be all too easy to slip the garment from your shoulder…

“That does seem rather unfair,” Jade agreed as he stepped in front of you, hands ghosting along the expanse of your thighs to rest at your waist, the look in his eyes reminding you of his origins and sending shivers of excitement down your spine. “If you allow me, I have a few ideas in mind on how to make it up to you.”

Within the blink of an eye, his hands had steeled their grip around your waist and lifted you to sit on the counter as he took the opportunity to stand between your legs. Then, with a gentleness which did not match the show of strength, he carefully cupped the back of your head in his palm and connected your lips in a kiss as light and soft as the golden rays bathing your kitchen in light. Your own hands busied themselves with tousling his bed head once again, slowly sliding his black lock behind his left ear as you parted from one another, like a painter putting the finishing strokes on their magnum opus.

“Hm, I might be able to be convinced about forgiving you,” you teased, the lovestruck look in your eyes mirroring his as you slung your arms over his shoulders and crossed them behind his neck in an effort to be even closer to him.

“I must be the luckiest man alive,” he mused, meaning every word of his playful response.

Yes, after living on land for so long, Jade had truly taken a liking to the human custom of wearing clothes and all the different possibilities it held. Then again, the fondness those memories held probably had nothing to do with the clothes at all.

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judasgot-it · 19 days

Text

There Was Only One Bed

"We tend to get into these situations a lot, now, don't we? Shouldn't the hotel managers have known better at this point?"

Kaldo Gehenna Ver. Here

You and Orter had some sort of curse that had kept you working together for over two years now. Always, without fail, he would end up needing your help - last time it had been a flying mantacor, this time it was a violent unicorn who someone was keeping illegally in their home.

He can stop a violent beast from killing civilians but he couldn't stop property damage appearntly. That was too much work for him, it was just a 'clean up job' for a big and important guy like him. After all, he's the Desert Cane. That job was for the poor.

And for you.

You ran and kicked the back, watching him fold like a chair. He barely gave a shout, he merely stumbled and fell, his palms and knees scrapping against the cobblestone against your feet.

A laugh escaped you. Small revenge for that comment earlier.

”I'm about ready for a nap, I don't know about you.“

You stood over him, watching him search for his glasses. He was practically blind, his hand waving in the air as he searched for his lenses.

He looked pitiful, if only he hadn't said such a rude thing about your job earlier. But you gave him pity anyway, handing him his glasses back and watching as his eyes reappeared, giving you the meanest glare he ever had.

”What are you, an animal?“

He said this as he was still sitting on the ground, truly proper behavior from a stuck up who cared about the rules.

”No. But it's funny and you deserved it.“

You smiled, your face splitting apart in a shit eating grin.

“I don't think people deserve to be kicked.”

“They do when they insult others. You should try it sometime.”

Standing up, you offered your hand. Surprisingly he accepted it, pulling your down if only a little on purpose.

His grip was strong. It felt like he was trying to squeeze your bones out of your hand, and as if he were trying to pull you down with him. Payback.

"Let's go. I booked us rooms so we don't have to travel all night."

He stalked forward, walking ahead of you. There was a rush to catch up, your smaller steps having to leap in order to match up with his strides. He didn't acknowledge it, just nodding and continuing his pace.

What an asshole.

"How far is the inn?"

"Close. I'm not telling you."

Orter kept walking, his eyes focused on the path ahead of you.

"What? Why."

He scoffed, reaching around to flick your forehead. You dodged the onslaught, swatting his hand away.

"You would just kick me and try to get there first. Seriously, you don't have any respect for social decency."

Huffing, you tried to kick him again - your foot only made it halfway there until it was encased in a prison of sand.

Orter looked back at you, adjusting his glasses as his yellow eyes focused on your form. You could swear he was smirking, but it was wiped away in a second - maybe it was the glare you were sending him, who knew.

"Maybe you really are just an animal."

"Or maybe you're just an asshole!"

Stupidly, you pulled out your wand in hopes to cast a small spell at him. It was pointless, seeing as he had you disarmed with his stupid sand.

"You know we're in public, right? This just looks bad on your part."

Orter scoffed, letting you languish in his pile of inescapable sand if only for a little while longer. He reached over, gently hitting his knuckles against your head as he tried to physically knock some sense into you.

"Ow! What the hell!"

"I'm doing you a favor."

He gave a couple more knocks, as if it would make sure that you had some sense knocked into your head. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you felt his knuckles travel across your face, from your brow down to your cheekbones.

"What are you doing?"

You felt your face flush as his eyes traced your figure, golden eyes analyzing your form - it made you feel naked, and you could only escape by averting your gaze. His small huff of amusement made the feeling worse, your cheeks warming underneath his touch.

"Checking to see if you really have a brain underneath that skull. Seems like it's there, but I'm not sure."

There was no chance to retort as he dropped you roughly on the ground, leaving you to sputter and choke on offensive insults while he walked away, heading towards the hotel.

What an asshole.

This was a nightmare.

"Just take the bed, I'm not planning on sleeping anyway."

Orter looked at you with a straight face as he said this, pulling out a novel the hotel provided and tucking himself in a corner, as if that would be comfortable enough to be there for eight hours.

"Absolutely not. We can share, can't we?"

The bed was big enough for the two of you - maybe if you squeezed in, but you both paid for it, and it would be impossible to sleep knowing that there would be a man in the corner killing his neck while you laid down comfortably all night.

"I'm the man here. It's only proper that I allow the lady to take the bed."

"Excuse me? Are you really pulling that card right now?"

You took one of the pillows off of the bed, throwing it at the man. He seemed unphased, used to your outbursts.

What the hell was that about? Was he really going to treat you differently just because you were a girl?

"It's just the rules. I don't make them."

"Doesn't mean you have to follow them, ass!"

You slapped another pillow at his face. There was a struggle as he caught it, pushing you towards the bed and trying to subdue you - it had already turned late into the night, and your shouting was most likely disturbing the other guests.

It didn't matter to you. Orter deserved to be embarrassed.

Flipped him over, you tried to shove the plush cotton pillow over his face, struggling against his force. You felt him shift underneath you, his arms blocking your assault and preventing you from playfully suffocating him.

Your defense had been weak, perhaps too playful against your opponent. It was swiftly that he had worked to subdue you, his palm pressing against your shoulder while his knees worked against you, pinning you down against the soft bed.

The pillow was forgotten, with Orter merely staring down at you with his wasp-like eyes.

"This is rather improper of you-"

Growling, you threw your hand up, not really aiming for anything. It was with a shock that you felt your palm connect with his nose, and his weight fall against you as he took the hit on his face.

It was a moment later that blood began to drip down, making you cringe at the moment.

"Oh gods, I'm sorry."

Orter sat up, his hand attempting to cover the blood that began to drip from his nose. It was futile as it fell onto your shirt - the feeling was unpleasant, but you ignored it in favor of overwhelming guilt.

"Here. Um..."

There was nothing to aid him, besides your already soiled shirt. You handed the fabric to him, taking his bloody hands away from his face and trying to stop the bleeding that you caused.

He glanced at you, batting his dark eyelashes as he tilted his head down and ruined your shirt further. The fabric pulled against your ribcage as you both held it in place - at this point, it would be easier to take it off and hand it to him.

"fhanks."

"Thank you. For ruining my shirt."

"Is' nod my fauld' thad you hid' me." Orter's words were muffled by the shirt, and it was with a horrible ruttering sound, like an old rusty engine, that he tried to breathe in through his clouded and bloody nostrils.

Still ruining your shirt.

"You deserved it!" You deflected like it was breathing, "You're an asshole, manhandling me like that."

Drawing the fabric over your head, you shoved it in his face the best you could, still feeling his weight pinning you down at your hips. You would kick him if you could, but clearly, he had planned for this, not having moved from his position on top of you.

It took a moment to sink in the mistake you made, making eye contact with the man as he stared at you - making great effort to stay on your face and not look anywhere else.

He got off of you quickly, looking to the side and avoiding looking at you as if you had the plague. For once, you didn't shove his face for his perceived misdeed, instead taking the opportunity to cover your chest with the forgotten pillow, staring as Orter sat on the farthest edge of the bed, his warmth now sorely missed.

It had now gotten colder as it moved on in the night, no thanks to also having lost a shirt. There was nothing to say about that, as you would have to get up in order to get your day clothes - exposing yourself further to the man.

"Don't look at me." There was a crack in your voice as you said this, but you hoped that he would have been too distracted to really care about your state.

He glanced at you. The usual dull look on his face was painted red, his eyes wide as he turned away again, finding the floor much more interesting.

For once, he was speechless. No annoying taunts or a lecture about society - it was as if seeing your chest made him silent for once in his life.

Silently, he got up, his eyes still trailed downward. It was an awkward few minutes as you debated between getting up while shirtless and he struggled with forcing his bloody nose away with a pure force of will.

Despite being a double-liner, the man hadn't learned any spells to dispel such a pesty and annoying problem. How unfortunate.

It wasn't until a shirt was thrust into you direction were you broken out of your thoughts.

"Here. Sorry, just," Orter placed the shirt on your lap, turning to look back at the wall again as fast as he could "Take mine."

There was a long moment of silence.

It was a nice gesture. And you did feel bare, even underneath the pillow.

But this was Orter's shirt.

"Thanks. Um...we should go to sleep now."

You threw it on, trying your hardest to not focus on anything as you tried your best to straighten the fabric around you best you could. The shoulders were too large for your frame, making the buttoned collar fall too low on your skin.

It was better than nothing. At least you weren't forced to wear your dirtied shirt, which you assumed was somewhere off on the floor at the moment.

Silently, you forced yourself to lay down, going through the motions as you pushed the pillow underneath your head.

There was no body lying next to you. Instead, there was light breathing just below - it seemed like the asshole was still stubborn.

"Orter. I said we can share."

"I'd rather not. It's improper."

"I am literally wearing your shirt, what could possibly be more improper?"

"Sharing a bed."

You groaned, frustrated.

"Shut up, virgin."

That got the man up, unlike any other insult you had said. He crawled up onto the bed silently, his form dropping itself with a huff down onto the soft mattress.

"You are insufferable."

"Now that is improper."

The lights in the room went off, and you felt a light smack against your face.

"You should sleep."

"I am, Orter."

"Right."

His hand went up, feeling your face, as if to physically check for signs of your rest. His fingers trailed up and down your skin, tracing your nose and cheeks gently in the dark.

You could feel his thumb caressing your lips, as if you weren't still awake.

What a strange, strange man.

Anon asked for either or but I thought I could make it funny with Orter since he seems like such a rule guy. The vision is here. No confession and reader is kinda a tsundere cause idk...the vibes match.

Hope y'all enjoyed it. This is for my Valentine's event, it's still open and has slots open. go. ask away. do what you please.

#mashle x reader #orter madl x reader #orter madl #theres like no tags....#anyway did this take forever to write? yea #sowwy....#judas valentines event

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ttulipwritezz · 2 months

Text

King Of My Heart (Body And Soul)~ R. Lupin.

Chapter 1 - Stranger that I know.

Ootp! Remus Lupin x Sirius's sister!Reader

Synopsis: When James and lily died, and your brother was sent to Azkaban, Remus was the only person you have left. Until he left too. What happens when he returns after the events of Sirius's escape, only to find out you have a son? A son that's his.

WC: 817 words

Warnings: lots of italics, probably grammatical mistakes, kiss(es), might be ooc idk, child (?), fem reader, italics are flashbacks ( idk), love (ew), [ look at series masterlist for all content warnings]

A/n: bear with me on this one, it's rather short but it's to jumpstart the series so i can write the rest of the parts. If you like this, please reblog and comment! <3

Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist, Navigation

"When did you say they were arriving again?"

Your voice echoes through the walls of the kitchen at 12 Grimmauld place. you wipe down the kitchen counters as another smaller, more meek voice replies.

"Mum we talked about this" That's your son. Regulus.

After the event of your brother passing, you wanted to honour his name. Such a beautiful name it was. No matter how cruel the people to name him were.

"I know ,I just worry, what if they get lost? maybe they couldn't find the place? what if they got caught- " Your rambling was interrupted by your son once again.

"MUM! nothing is going to happen. Besides, he's your brother. And he has lived here before. You know him." Regulus reasoned, and frankly his reasoning was logical. you were just...paranoid.

You did however, leave out the fact that what truly made you nervous was Remus.

"Well i haven't for the past 14 years, Regulus." you replied, snappy, referring to sirius. Your impatience was nearly rivaling that of your son.

"when is it arrivingggg?" a voice full of exasperation nearly whines as the screeching sound of trolly wheels comes to a halt.

An eleven year old regulus rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet as he (claimed to) patiently wait for hogwarts express to make it's way into the platform.

A thirty three year old you bent down to brush away his untamed curls, sighing as you did so.

"It will arrive soon enough, dove. Calm down."

Your voice tried to reason but little regulus's patience was waning. You had never seen a kid be so excited at the thought of going off to boarding school. But you suppose watching his older brother Harry would have embedded him with some form of excitement for the school.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t just as excited. It was your son’s first day at school. Big boy wizarding school.You were excited to see your boy go to the place you first knew as home, meet your former professors, roam the halls that you did, and make friends.

You did not, however, expect his first friend to be Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and your dearest cousin. In a way the two were cousins, they just didn’t know it yet.

That summer, when regulus came back from Hogwarts, he had a plethora of stories to tell you. His rant began with his new friends, Draco, Blaise, Pansy and Theo, and ended with his defense against the dark arts professor, Remus Lupin.

Needless to say all colour drained from your face at the mention of him. Remus Lupin…how do you even begin to describe remus lupin?

Remus is pretty.

He is pretty like the sunrise in winter, when the sky is faded out and it's warm. Thats what you think as you sit on the roof of potter manor. Chatting, with hands occupied by, what you think is, beer in plastic cups. You felt giddy, perhaps it was the alcohol in your system. Or the gentle brush of his hand on your clothed thigh. You felt…in love. Somewhere along the way your innocent schoolgirl crush had become something more. You hoped it had been so for him as well.

“Dove…”

His velvety voice catches your attention. You turn your head to him, only to see him still facing the sun. You’re sure he’s seen your movement though, as he takes it as his que to continue.

Nothing. Nothing could brace you for the words that were to follow.

“I fancy you.” Your eyes widen.He continues.

“I have for some time now… I think you fancy me too? Not to- I- uhm–”

“I do.” you find yourself speaking.

That was your first of many kisses to come.

Just then, the sound of the doorbell catches your attention.

“That must be them” your son says, in a rather ‘i told you so’ tone.

You rush to wipe your hands on the kitchen towel and head for the door.

Taking a deep breath to brace yourself for what’s probably Remus Lupin on the other side of the door, you pull it open with a creak.

Your eyes immediately find his.

And for a moment, you're fourteen again. Staring at the brown haired bloke across kings cross station, as he laughs with your brother. Mesmerized by his eyes, his nose, his lips, his scars. You knew that face all too well.

You blink and you're back at the doorway. Staring at those brown eyes, those eyes you knew...all too well.

"Remus.."

"Hi, love"

Taglist (open): @twilightlover2007 @idli-dosa

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birdkatze · 1 month

Text

"But werewolves aren't real?" || werewolf! 141 x werewolf! reader Part 3

Future pairings = poly 141 x reader

Chapter pairings = 141! x reader

Words = 1.2k

[Chapter 2] --- [Chapter 4]

Summery: After moving out of the big city and into the forest, you meet some men that might have some awners about whats been causing your pain.

EXPLICIT under the cut, also gets angsty this chapter

Blinking blearily you feel someone noseing at your side. It was Gaz, he motioned for you to follow him. Yawning, you follow him a bit deeper into the woods, a bit further away from the pack. He stops and presses against you making a small happy chuff. He circles around you, before pressing against you again and you both transform into human, flushing as you realize you are both naked.

“It’s okay Duck, just needed to talk to ya.” Smiling he places a hand on your shoulder “I didn’t wanna do it infront of those ruffians..”

That draws a soft laugh from your lips and you look at Gaz curiously.

“So you might have noticed that me and you are much much smaller than the other three” Gaz took in a deep breath “This is going to sound ridiculous, I’m sorry Duck,” Smiling nervously Gaz looked at you sweetly “We are omegas and the other three are alphas..”

You sputter a knee-jerk laugh “W-what?” looking as Gaz confused, you had about one hundred different ideas of what he was going to say and this was not one of them.

“I know, it sounds ridiculous.” Gaz shakes his head “I told Price he was crazy when he first explained it.”

“I thought those didn’t exist in real wolf packs? Like it was exclusive to podcasts?” You look at Gaz still not quite believing him still.

“Well Duck, don’t know if ya’ve noticed but we aren't actual wolves and I promise we aren't a podcast..Ghost hates them- any podcast- said they drive him insane..”

“So what is the um difference other than the um size difference? Or is it just that we are a different size than them?”

“Uh, it affects the um- reproductive system.” Gaz flushed “Basically we can get pregnant, we generate lots of slick, um I’m sorry Duck but we also go through heats- the others go through ruts in all fairness..It's a bloody nightmare.”

Staring at Gaz surprised and a bit incredulously “But I’ve never had any of that happen?”

“Duck you had a device that prevented you from shifting, Soap had one and once it came out um- he went a bit feral..”

“Oh um..Did he go into-” ducking your head you look at Gaz curiously “-rut?”

Gaz snorted, not meanly, nodding his head “He was a nightmare…”

Thinking for a second you bite your lip “That doesn’t sound good…I um don’t even know what I’d do…”

“Something to consider but we all would in a heartbeat offer to take care of you during your heat, we don't’ have to do anything sexual we just want to make sure you stay safe..” Gaz looked at you reassuringly “in a heartbeat we’d help” he stressed.

“What? What do you mean sexual” feeling a presence behind you, you see Price, in his human form- naked of course. Your face is right at dick level. Fuck. Flash of arousal passes over you before you shut it down, blushing.

“You get really horny.” Soap says bluntly, appearing next to you and getting up in your space. Playfully licking your jaw like an overgrown puppy.

“Oh!” you squeak.

“I know this is all a lot, love.” Price helped you to your feet, brushing the dirt off you.

Flushing, you feel another spark of arousal- it had been so long since someone had touched you. It was so foreign and almost terrifying- you haven't felt like that since before you got bit. All four of the men turn to you, their nose picking up on it instantly. You flush, running a hand over your face “Sorry..”

“Don’t apologize Duck, it’s normal- you aren’t in pain right now” Gaz smiled “We don’t need to do anything, I know this is a lot yeah?”

Nodding you look at the four men.

Soap grinned “Well at least you aren’t like me, I was insatiable- wore out these three proper..”

Gaz barked out a laugh “Never been chapped like that...”

Price huffs a laugh.

“Come mer’ lets get ya home, it’s gettn’ cold” Ghost motioned for everyone to go back into the house, staying behind everyone- herding you all into the house.

Stepping back into the house you shiver- you hadn’t realized how cold you were. Looking at the digital thermostat it told you it was 38 F out. Made sense you were so cold- you were also naked.

“I’m gunna go put on some clothes.” You pulled away from the group, you didn’t feel uncomfortable being naked but it wasn’t proper to be naked around strangers. Right? Did that count if the strangers felt like old friends?

“You don’t have to~” Soap teased, looking you up and down.

That earned him a cuff behind the ears from Price and a pinch from Ghost.

Soap pouted and frowned but stopped.

“We should be putting on our clothes mutt” Ghost chastised Soap huffing at him.

“It’s not an issue?” Pausing on the stairs you tilt your head “I- um don’t mind..” you say hesitantly, but you really didn’t want them to put back on their clothes with how mouth watering hot they were.

Soap grins and looks up at Ghost and Price, Gaz smirks too.

“Sorry that came out bad- I um you can put on your clothes if you want I’m sorry..” Blushing as you realized how perverted that sounded.

“Whatever you want, Duck!” smirking Soap gave Ghost and Price the biggest smug look ever.

“Alright, alright..” Price huffs “Listen er’ we should probably get going- we don’t want to impose and we need to get some stuff done..You should relax, love”

Nodding, you felt a stab of disappointment. It made sense, why would they stay at a random stranger's house? It didn’t matter if you were also a werewolf. They had literally met you only earlier today.

The men quickly dress, Soap very begrudgingly. Gaz pulled back on his lace thong very showy, smirking at you- flashing his sharp canines. Soap skulked pulling on his shirt first then pulling up his jeans, only doing the button and leaving them unzipped. Him and Gaz seem very hesitant to leave, it makes you feel anxious.

“One of us will come check on you later tomorrow, love” Price says over his shoulder as he ushers the other men out of the house.

“Okay,” You nod again, closing the door as they leave.

Sighing, you go upstairs and take a shower. You couldn’t understand why you felt so lonely, like you had been left behind. It wasn’t rational! You wipe your tears as you move your pillowcase into the dryer.

The sadness you felt was all encompassing and painful. You end up showering and then taking a hot bath in an attempt to feel better but you only feel worse and worse. When you make it into your bed, with your clean pillow case you break down.

Big tears run down your face as you hold onto your pillow, sobbing loudly. You had never felt this broken and dejected before. You felt sick, scrambling to the toilet to vomit. Any time you feel semi-okay another wave of sickness takes over you, you feel guilty for vomiting up Soap’s soup.

He was so good even though he hardly knew you, feeding you, being nice…Then Price was good too, getting you your heated blanket, making sure you weren’t sick, getting Gaz to get the silver out of your body…Gaz, sweet Gaz- he fixed you right up, sitting with you as you woke up, pulling you aide, being so nice and accommodating…Ghost, helped you shift, made sure you got inside as it got cold.

You wash your mouth out when you finally feel okayish. You were still crying, feeling so incredibly distraught.

#call of duty #mw2 #captain john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #angst #a/b/o dynamics

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olichat-reads · 2 years

Text

Confession

Bakugou x shy!reader

Summary: going out of the way to confess to your crush for the sake of confessing didn't go the way you thought it would.

A/n: I write for myself quite a bit but this is the first proper oneshot I've actually completed & deem okay to post hehe. VERY SELF INDULGENT BUT WHO CARES. I love this gremlin a lot & I hope the characterization isn't too off (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

🌟

Y/n blinked at him blankly. Not being able to process what was happening.

"The hell you looking at me like that for? Was that confession of yours a fucking joke or somethin-?!" Bakugou growls out, voice raising as annoyance took over his features, clearly misinterpreting your stunned silence.

I mean, you had reason to be shocked. Not your fault.

"You've got some guts to play with me," Bakugou spits out in his growing anger, quirk sparking to life in his hand.

That snapped you out of it.

"Wait, wait! Eek!" You squeaked out, fists protectively shielding your head from the blonde boy's growing rage. Forcing your eyes open to meet his glare as you trembled in place.

"I-I meant it! I meant every word! I was just so shocked you didn't reject me!" You cry out fearfully, eyes wide as you watched Bakugou's face scrunch up in confusion at your admission.

"Hah?!???"

"Eek! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-"

"Shut up for a fucking second won't you," he cut you off with a growl making your mouth snap shut, wide, terrified eyes staring at him, quite clearly regretting all your life choices that led up to this moment. Bakugou let out an exasperated sigh at your reaction, rubbing a hand down his face.

After a moment of eyeing your trembling figure, Bakugou slowly began to make his way over to you, like a predator stalking its prey and it took everything in your willpower to stay rooted in place and not run away squeaking.

He stopped once he was right in front of you. You could feel yourself freezing up at how close you were together, finding interest in the ground beneath your shoes all of a sudden, not able to meet Bakugou's burning gaze.

"Oi. Look it at me."

The request made a whine of embarassment bubble up from your throat but you slowly lifted your head anyways, doing your best not to flinch away at meeting Bakugou's red eyes.

Pretty red eyes.

Bakugou wore an blank look on his face as he looked down at your much smaller form. He had his hands in his pockets as he watched you squirm for a heartbeat before speaking.

"Asking for my response and immediately assuming my answer was stupid, don't you think?"

"I-" you started but immediately shutting up when he narrowed his eyes at you, daring you to even try going on another nervous tangent.

"Did you want to get rejected, dumbass?"

Your eyes widened at his question. Where on earth was this going?

"Uh. Um- n-no. Of course not. I just-" you cut yourself off before you rambled again. Wringing your sweat soaked hands nervously.

"So. If given a chance, you'd want to date me?" He intergorates, eyebrow raised.

What is happening. What is happening. What is happening-

"..yes?" You manage to squeak out.

You almost faint at the smirk that overtakes Bakugou's handsome face. Slowly, he leaned into you, leaving mere inches between your faces. You could feel your face absolutely burning at his close proximity. He could probably hear your heart threatening to pound out of your chest.

Oh my god. Too much, too much!! Was he trying to kill you?!?

"You sure? No take backs," he drawls out teasingly.

You could only nod in repsonse, words failing you at this point.

"Words, bunny."

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, cheeks flushing hot.

"Yes, please," you managed to choke out, your voice barely a whisper.

His smirk grew wider. Out of nowhere, you felt a hand ruffle your head, making you jump in surprise. Your wide eyes never leaving Bakugou's as he slowly leaned back, getting out of your face, all while staring down at you smugly.

"What- what just happened?" You stuttered out. All this was too much for your poor head to process, much less with having your crush's undivided attention on you for so long was making you dizzy. You brain is mush at this point.

Bakugou rolled his eyes at your question.

"You got yourself a boyfriend, dumbass," he states matter-of-factly as if its the most obvious thing in the world. Hand leaving your head, he began to stroll back towards the school block. Looking back at your unmoving form still frozen in place, he paused to call out a "you coming?"

Blinking back at him dumbly, you barely found your voice to respond. "I, um. I don't think I can move right now. Y-you go ahead," you replied, genuinely feeling like you might collapse if you tried to move a muscle at this immediate moment.

"You need me to carry your ass back or something-"

"OH MY GOD STAY BACK OR I WILL FAINT. MY HEART CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE THAN THIS. HAVE MERCY-" you blurt out in a panic, making the blonde bark out laughing at you outburst.

#oliwrites #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader

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229zmi · 3 months

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DO YOU THINK WE’RE LOVERS IN EVERY UNIVERSE?

Kuroo Tetsurō/Reader | 2.5k words, lots of description and run-on sentences and like 3 lines of dialogue, brief mention of kuroo’s parents separating

It’s simple. At only seven years old, Kuroo decides that love is always going to be a hair out of his reach.

Perhaps it’s foolish of him to make such a finite conclusion at a young age and to already determine so early on in his life that yes, love is a finish line he is never going to make it to — that love may be something he can only observe in his surroundings but never truly hold as his own. But this has been his observation for years, so he can’t help himself from thinking of it in this forever-unattainable sort of way, that is: if love is something like a narrow world — one where he can see where it starts and ends, what it encompasses, and what it lacks all at once — then Kuroo Tetsurō is stuck idling along the edge, perpetually on the outside looking in.

And you know, most people don’t remember the first few years of their life. Yet somehow, he remembers the first time he looked in and caught a glimpse of the parents who lifted their kids up, twirled them around, held their hands, kissed the crown of their heads, asked them about their day. He saw the sunlight pool onto their smiling faces, heard their laughter bleed into the afternoon, and felt the breeze of their light-hearted chatter brush over his head, so close that he swore he could almost touch it himself.

Then, he blinked and time inched forward, slowly unveiling a version of love that was much quieter than the one he witnessed in the vicinity of an elementary school, so subtle yet ardent — so incredibly mundane yet human all the same.

On the train he took to his grandparents’ place, he admired the shy looks exchanged among two young lovers sitting across from him. He yearned for the experience shared between an elderly couple a few empty seats away, shoulders connected and timeworn fingers intertwined as if the two were one; listened in carefully on a phone call from the woman beside him, who seemed to be speaking to her mother with the amount of delicate I miss yous and promises of visiting home soon; and found a warm feeling bubbling his chest at the sight of a person waving at their friend through the window until their fingers turned red and numb from the wind and the train began to depart from the station.

(By then, the friend had already turned back around, yet Kuroo still watched the other person grow smaller in the distance, wiping away at their cheeks and sort of curling into themselves as if the loneliness was suddenly too cold to bear.)

Even in the love-laced tunes that spilled out through the overhead speakers at the grocery store, love was there. Certainly, it was there and alive and flooding his mind with convoluted melodies and sentimental lyrics. It lived, too, in the old-timey romance show his grandfather loved to watch on full volume at seven-thirty every evening and in the memory box his grandmother said she had kept under her bed for decades.

It was a matter as indisputable as the moon orbiting the earth: love was… everywhere. Suspended in the frosty air after a long day at school, dancing through the crowd on the train to Ibaraki Station, and lingering above him as he wandered through the cereal aisle. Even if it wasn’t quite his — wasn’t really for him — love was all around him, ever-prevalent in the nooks of his life and taking the form of bits and pieces that seemed to make up a larger mosaic.

So, when such intricacies were rare in his childhood for him to keep, Tetsurō, who loved love for what it was the moment he could echo the word in his mind, made sure to hold on to each memory as tight as his hands would allow, lodging every fragment in between the crevices of his palms as if it was the ink of an invisible tattoo embedded permanently into his skin.

The two lovers on the train lived in the uppermost line across his right palm. The elderly couple resided in the one below it, among other connections he witnessed along the way. Romantic ballads he overheard at stores and on the radio took up most of his left hand; and in the finer lines, between rough callouses and bruises too tender to touch, there were his grandfather’s show and his grandmother’s old shoebox of memories.

It was so simple before. Kuroo used to like it that way.

But then summertime hits, and suddenly he’s eight-turning-nine with sunkissed cheeks and scuffed knees, when terse conversations throughout the day and wrathful voices at night aren’t supposed to be thing in his life anymore, apparently, because home isn’t with his mother and father and sister in a small apartment in the prefecture of Nagano anymore.

Instead, home is in Nerima City now, and it stands right before his eyes in the form of an old, visibly timeworn door. With the sky as barren as a pond completely frozen over and his mind muddled with a wide range of emotions, there’s an ache in his chest as the door opens, revealing two elderly faces who, as unfamiliar as they appear to Tetsurō, welcome him and his dad with wide open arms.

(Later, he learns that they are his grandparents, his father’s parents. Even later, he discovers that neither of them like watching television very much and that the space beneath their bed is less a place to keep tangible items of nostalgia than it is a haven for cobwebs and dust.)

Still, he doesn’t let go of the past. There’s a craving in his heart that is as fiery as the sun against his back on a hot summer’s day, and back at his old home and in the old routine of things, he had found a way to live with it through filling the empty spaces in his palms. Now, it’s telling him to keep going — to keep on collecting the mosaic tiles that other people had left behind on the ground and add new to the old, fuel to the flame.

So, he does.

Kuroo blinks again. It’s still summer, just nearing the end of it, except he’s fifteen-going-on-sixteen this time around, no longer navigating the daunting hallways of Nekoma Grade School but instead partway through his first year of high school.

(Where did time go?)

Perhaps it is because he’s bigger than he was at five and seven and almost-nine, evident in the way his hands have already grown too large for last year’s pair of winter gloves, but he sees more of the world than he has ever before — sees more, holds more, loves more with a newfound ease that most likely would’ve put younger him into shock.

With that being said, some of the new people he meets — they don’t stay forever, despite his tendency to hold on and never let go.

Actually, none of them do because forever is, well… way beyond his lifetime. However, the point is, people come and go. There are those whom he was never meant to see again after the first time, colliding once and then heading in opposite directions like two perpendicular lines. Others pull out of his orbit after a couple of months, a few years, or however long it takes for them to drift apart because their interests had grown less aligned with time or because something else had happened and there was no saving the relationship from it.

(He thinks of it like this: a scene of ambivalence, in which he is not a bystander on the train to Ibaraki. Rather, he is the one standing out at Nagano Station, waving at familiar faces through the window until his wrists hurt and the smoke begins to billow out above him, twisting and turning like the rotten feeling in his gut. He’s the one watching them leave, but no one will be there to see him if he cries.)

Nonetheless, there are still the people who stay a while longer, weaving themselves back into his life time and time again. It’s never going to be forever — he knows that, and maybe it would hurt less if he didn’t — but they’re with them in the present and that’s what matters.

And, maybe, if he squints closely enough, he’ll see that an unshakeable mosaic of his own has started to form, of the memories he’s created over the past several years instead of strangers’ fleeting moments he picked up from the threshold.

Somewhere along the line, the strangers from the train had moved to smaller crevices in favour of the family who lived next-door to the Kuroos’ house. Further in time, all the lyrics he used to keep locked away in the many lines of his left palm for so many years had begun to fade away as inside jokes, pick-up lines, sincere compliments, and the like occupied the spaces.

Then, in the creases along his fingers: the way a volleyball feels against his hand right before a victory, how the air smells the morning right after a rainstorm, the resolution of a book he managed to read in one sitting, the late night conversations that took place on the phone between him and Kenma whenever he couldn’t sleep, and finally the playful banter he exchanged with his lab partner during class, who didn’t seem to mind whenever he said something corny about the two of you having chemistry together, even if — from the deepest depths of his heart, where lay the secrets he was too afraid to admit — he wasn’t really meaning it as a joke.

It’s still summer, by the way, although it’s been seven years since he moved— just nearing the end of it with shorter days on the horizon and auburn leaves turning brittle beneath his feet. And all of a sudden, he finds that his world seems to have grown a little wider and love feels heavier in his hands these days.

So yes, perhaps it was foolish of him to make such a finite conclusion at seven years old, to think of love as something so unattainable and out of reach. Because twenty years later, at twenty-seven, Kuroo Tetsurō has it right in the centre of his palms, no longer the outsider looking in on a scene he thought he wasn’t meant to be a part of.

It must be sometime after midnight when his name falls upon his ears in the form of a tentative whisper, sweet like the peppermint melting on his tongue as his fingers hover over the keyboard, frozen at the sound of your voice. Coming from his lab partner turned friend, then lover— it’s a stark contrast to the way you used to say his name back in high school, during the painfully long two years of pining before the day he finally insisted, with sweaty palms and his heart pounding in his chest, that you use his given name instead. Tetsurō, instead of Kuroo, or Rooster Head and Annoying Bastard and Shithead, which you used interchangeably with his surname until a teacher overheard and assigned you cleaning duty in the restrooms for a week.

(Of course, that didn’t stop you from calling him those epithets still, even today. If he provokes you just enough and presses all the right buttons, he’s sure to hear the same string of offensive names from you again, although there’ll certainly be less venom behind it now compared to when you were teenagers, thinking the other was the most irritating person in the whole wide world.

…Where did time go? he wonders again.)

You should’ve fallen asleep long ago. Not only had he thought the sound of his typing would’ve at least lulled you to sleep, there isn’t anything particularly riveting about watching someone type up a report on their laptop. Nevertheless, you insisted on staying up anyway, fighting through the drowsiness that threatened to wrap around your neck and yank you into dreamland.

His eyes sweep over the planes of your face, down the slant of your nose, and along the curvature of your Cupid’s bow before flitting back up to meet your gaze at last as he shuts his laptop, stands up, and pads over to the side of the bed in one quick stride, where you currently lay with one side of your face smushed against the pillow, blinking up at him tiredly.

Tenderly, as if you’re a fragile illusion that could shatter beneath the slightest touch, a hand — his hand — settles against the side of your face, pulling the fat of your cheek between his forefinger and thumb in a playful manner. The action rouses you awake somewhat, and you suddenly remember the reason why you called his name.

“Tetsu,” you say again, barely louder than the clock that ticks on the wall. “Do you think we’re lovers in every universe?”

Despite your lethargy, a sly grin strews across your face like you’re trying to play it off as some inane joke, a frivolous thing rotting away in your brain until you can find the answer. And Tetsurō can only chuckle, shaking his head at your question, yet he indulges anyway, letting the matter soak in his mind for a moment longer as he pretends to think.

Truth is, the answer is simple. He doesn’t have to spend much time mulling over it because even if love didn’t come easy to him in the first decade of his life, loving you comes easy to him enough; he’d do it over and over again in every universe and in every lifetime if it were possible to make up for the lost time he’d spent in this one before he crossed paths with you.

So, Tetsurō answers the only way he knows how— teasingly. Leaning down to land a kiss upon your forehead, he murmurs against your skin, “God, I hope not.”

(You know he’s lying. He’s never been too good at it, with his telltale signs appearing in the form of reddened ears and him avoiding eye contact as much as possible. However, you know it especially this time from the softness in his voice. It’s a tone that you know he’s only ever reserved for you.)

He feels your eyebrows furrow together, and your response comes quick: “Shithead. I hate you.”

(He knows you’re lying, too, when you turn your head to press your lips against the palm of his hand, against the creases that now hold thousands of snapshots of you and many more to come.

The way that you laugh and the way that you smile. How you twist the shiny ring around your left ring finger whenever you’re deep in thought. The times you keep insisting you don’t snore in your sleep despite the multiple years’ worth of evidence on his phone that speaks otherwise.

And most importantly, he thinks, the way that you love him.)

notes: in my kuroo phase tbh…. something abt him Man 😍…. idk if any of this makes sense but the first part of this has been marinating. in my drafts since july so i wanted 2 finish this as quickly as possible 〠 Kisses n hugs 2 whoever reads this

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #kuroo fluff #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #229ZMI

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gyllenhaalstories · 3 months

Text

ELWOOD DALTON x PLUS SIZE!READER HEADCANONS

summary: if he can push and pull a big obnoxious yellow lamborghini, imagine what he can do!!! well, you don't need to imagine. i did it for you. but still!!!

warnings: bunch of cute things & various smut elements. chances are i'll steal some of these in my fics later on bc i love repeating myself but i felt inspired to gather the random thoughts in one place. 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2100

photo credit: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: even if all my fics are written with a fat reader in mind, it just feels so good to put the emphasis on it! this is so incredibly self-indulgent and i am not sorry about it. 🥰 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

FLUFF

Dalton wears very form fitting clothes, like his vast collection of the tightest shorts imaginable that he's worn on the octagon. But you will notice a gradual shift in his clothing preferences. The more he hangs out with you, the looser his clothes will get. Especially his hoodies and his patterned shirts. You will also notice how he accidentally leaves pieces of clothing at your place when he visits. He just likes to drop hints that he wants you to wear his clothes because he wants you to wear his clothes.

The first time he catches you putting on his hoodie if you're feeling a bit chilly or wearing his flowery shirt on a hot day? He's losing it. He'll have a dumb smile on his face all day because this is a big victory just like winning a fight. Maybe even more so when you start sharing clothes casually.

Also he's large. He just is. He takes space both literally and metaphorically. He makes you feel small in the best way. He opens jars for you in a twist of his wrist, he carries all the bags in one trip after grocery shopping, he shoves the laundry basket full of heavy wet clothes on his hip and holds you close with his free arm so you can hang clothes to dry outside. When Dalton locks eyes with you, he just has a way of making you feel so much smaller than him. This size difference, whether it be literal or not, feels good. It feels right. He will never shut up about it, if you ever tell him that you like the size difference. He might love it as much as you.

One of his love languages is you tending to his injuries and wounds. The lovely sound of your voice as you reprimand him and tell him he's too old to break into fights at any minor inconveniences. The gentle touch of your hands when you're cleaning him up with a washcloth and wincing at how much it must hurt... Except it barely hurts anymore he's just so used to it, although he might say it does so you baby him a little more. The adorable band-aids you put on him that he wears like a badge of honour. Eventually, you learn to carry a first-aid kit with you as often as you can. Just in case.

Beach dates. Did I say beach dates? Beach dates. He loves them. Dalton loves to hang out by the ocean and watch the sun rise and set. He loves it even more when you're with him. Holding hands or with his arms wrapped around you, he loves to share this moment with you. It feels so intimate. You can see him in his most peaceful and relaxed head space where the chaos of the Road House doesn't seem to affect him. He could stay there with you forever, with your feet in the water and the ocean breeze tickling your face.

He'd love to invite you to hang out at the Road House during his shifts, but he rarely lets you visit him at work. He's scared you will get injured or hurt by one of the drunk idiots or worse. He prefers to know you are safe and sound, far away from all the danger.

Dalton still tries to spend a lot of time with you. He likes it when you drive his car around and he can just be the passenger princess and enjoy the view, which means you. He likes it when you cook meals and desserts he hasn't had in forever due to years of intense training and strict diets. He'll always be around you to taste the food or steal a bite of a burning hot cookie that is fresh out the oven. The small things are very important for him.

Small things like slapping your butt when he walks behind you, and you doing the same when the roles are reversed. Small things like going shopping for the most obnoxious shirts that scream elderly dad on vacation vibes. Small things like dropping him off and picking him up when he works at the Road House. Small things like bringing you with him when he trains so that you can just exist in his presence, within a safe distance, and so that you can look at him when he gets all hot and sweaty. Small things like you laughing at his jokes about how everyone seems a little aggressive when he casually beats people up for a living. Small things like telling you that you smell so good and getting new perfumes so when he wears his clothes and you were his, he gets to carry your smell all day long. Small things like looking at you with big doe eyes and a dumb little grin on his face because he likes you so much. He likes the little things, because so often in his life he was living on the edge and he was depraved of those calm, harmless, insignificant little droplets of happiness.

What is the most important thing for him? Protecting you. He is so protective of you. Dalton wants to make sure you are safe and that you aren't involved in any shenanigans he gets himself into. He wants to make sure that nobody and nothing can hurt you. He's quick to remind anyone who crosses your way that they should be minding their own business. It may cause some issues between you, you have to remind him that you are a grown adult and that you can take care of yourself. He believes you, he knows you're strong and capable of anything you want to achieve, but he can't fight his protective instincts. He takes your security and your well-being very seriously. He wants you to know that he cherishes you, that he loves you and that he cares for you.

SMUT

Dalton is a big fan of proving you wrong, but with gentle persuasion. When the two of you start hooking up and dating, he will not put on too big of a show because he's scared to hurt you. He'll start slow, let things escalate at their own pace. He'll pull you closer by the hand for a kiss, surprising you by how he does that so effortlessly. He'll bring your body closer and wrap his arm around you to keep you pressed against him while you cuddle. He'll pull on your ankles to get you closer to the edge of the bed. He'll flip you over on the bed after a little warning that barely gives you enough time to register what he did. He'll hook his arms under your thighs to stop you from squirming away after he makes you cum and he doesn't want to stop just yet.

As much as he wants to chase the high, to show you just how much he can do and how far he can take you, he does it all gradually. He checks in often, maybe too many times at first. Tons of "are you alright? you good, you wanna continue? did it hurt, are you okay?" will be spoken to make sure he doesn't hurt you accidentally. He'll be careful not to hurt you, unless you ask him to.

He's flexible and he will adjust to your body. He'll make it work. You don't have to worry about it. If he can hold his opponent down like a pretzel until they tap out, he certainly can do the same to you. He'll push on your thighs to hold your legs down. He'll spread your pussy open and grunt at how you react when his nose bumps against your clit or when you whimper while he licks your puffy pussy lips. He'll pull on the skin of your cheeks to keep your ass open so he can access what he craves. He'll praise you when you help him, making it easier for him to fuck you good like you deserve.

On the topic of flexibility, he'd love to help you out with yours if you want to. He'll teach you exercises and show you how to relax your body. He'll also respect your limitations. You won't catch him be mad when you say your stomach is in the way or that you struggle to ride him so he has to use you as a fleshlight while you're on top. However, you will catch him rolling his eyes if you say you can't open your legs wider while he knows full well that you do when he's fucking you.

He loves when you sit on his face, no matter how many times he must remind you that he can take it, that you won't hurt him, that he can hold his breath long enough until you coat his tongue with your wetness. He enjoys every second of it.

He's loud. Dalton is a grunter. He grunts when he's fucking you deep with slow but rough thrusts. He grunts when he pulls out so he doesn't cum too fast at the heavenly feeling of your pussy on his hard cock. He grunts when he feels you gag around his cock. He grunts when he tastes your pussy on his tongue and feel your clit pulsate while he sucks on it. He's so fucking loud and he will do whatever he can to make you as loud as him. He wants you to get lost in the moment and forget about your fears and insecurities. He wants you to ride the waves of your orgasms with him until both of you forget how to speak and you can't take it anymore.

The things he must have seen and touched during his career in the UFC make it so that he's unbothered by extra skin to move around, or pretty much anything of the sort. He'll find a way to always make it work and he won't complain. In fact, he loves it. He loves feeling your body on him. He loves the skin-to-skin contact, the closeness. The sweat, the friction, the more he gets the more he wants.

He swells with pride and happiness when he sees you trying to process of the aftermath. Out of breath, flustered, shocked, stuck somewhere between needing three business days to recover and wanting to do it all over again right away. He loves seeing you fucked out of your mind, blissful and satisfied. Dalton loves knowing that he's the one helping you get there, helping you feel so good.

And he knows you love admiring him just as much. The feeling of worship is very much so mutual. He adores the marks, pearls of sweat and trails of euphoric tears he leaves on you. And you adore to watch his muscles and veins bulge after he's had his way with you.

Unlike his trainings of his fights, he doesn't end up in a human sized bucket of ice, but he loves the ritual of cleaning up in the shower or taking a bath with you. He loves to gently touch your body, paying close attention to where his hands might have left bruises earlier. He loves to show you his love with his touch rather than with his caring words or worried questions. It makes Dalton's heart flutter when you do the same, when you soap up his toned body and you wash away the mess of sweat and cum you made together. It often ends up with the two of you going at it again, or simply just jerking each other off with no intention to cum but rather to just feel closer and relax while the hot water heals your bodies.

To put it briefly, Dalton is built for the plus size girlies. He's got the strength, he's got the stamina. He's got it all to make you feel good, to make you feel like you're the hottest person alive because, to him, you very much so are. He cares for you and wants to make you feel comfortable. The more he explores your body and the more he discovers what you love and how to make you moan louder and cum harder, the freakier he will become. Dalton likes it hot and dirty, but he also loves it deep and passionate. He's gonna adapt to what you like and what you can physically do. He's gonna put in the work. He's gonna do what it takes to make you cum so hard you feel like he knocked you out in the best way possible.

#jake gyllenhaal #elwood dalton smut #elwood dalton fanfic #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #road house

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