#(i had one big bookshelf at college and one at home and coming back home and trying to cram that many books in one room...yeah no)

[fantasiavii]

Marie Kondo's method works because I used it to organize my room 3 years ago and then I didn't clean my room for a year (2021-2022) and yet when I finally did my mom was so surprised that I didn't have to get rid of anything to clean up, I just had to put things back where they were supposed to go lmao

#other than regular trash and recycling I got rid of two things: a pair of shoes and a bag #both of which were pleather and were too degraded to be used anymore which just goes to show you how bad pleather is #I do still which I had more room for books....but hey when i move out and have access to my second big bookshelf again i'm sure i'll be fin #(i had one big bookshelf at college and one at home and coming back home and trying to cram that many books in one room...yeah no) #*wish

[zepskies]

Take Me Home - Part 1

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: Welcome to my first ever Big Sky series! I’ve been wanting to get to this for a while now. I’m so glad I finally get to start sharing this with you! I truly hope you enjoy the ride. (Note: This is set towards the beginning of season 3.)

Song Inspo: “Fly Away” by John Denver. And remember, you can listen to the full Take Me Home Playlist ⬅️ here.

Word Count: 4,400

Tags/Warnings: A bit of angst, a bit of setup, “Glamper Girl,” and a side helping of cops enjoying baked goods…

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 1: All of Her Days

“This really feels like cheating,” you mused.

Yet again, you surveyed the sheer size and luxury of this tent you were supposed to be “camping” in.

Between the giant king-sized bed with crème and burgundy comforters, a two-seater dining table, a dresser (with a vanity), and even a small bookshelf, it looked like the Taj Mahal of glamping.

“Can’t you just enjoy it?” your best friend replied, poking a teasing finger into your side. She smirked when you flinched and gave her some playful side-eye. “My parents are the ones footing the bill, anyway.”

“Of which, I intend to pay them back for my half,” you said. Mary just rolled her eyes and waved you off. Her parents’ money was something she’d never had a problem spending.

“Come on, they’re getting ready to go on the hike without us,” she said, tossing her little purse over her shoulder. You were a bit more practical with your backpack, filled with a bottle of water, a couple snacks, bug spray, and your sketch pad.

Mary bumped your shoulder with hers as you two walked out of the tent, and you gave her a smile. You were glad she insisted on this little week-long excursion. It gave you exactly five more days to enjoy the fresh air of no responsibilities, before you returned to reality.

“So where are you guys from?” you asked a couple of walking companions on the early-morning hike.

The woods of Helena, Montana were vast and deep, and you found them a bit intimidating. You were a city girl, through and through, but you were learning to appreciate the mountains and the steep trails flanked by dense trees. You were also grateful that you weren’t alone. 

Emily seemed to be a nice girl around sixteen, while her stepfather Avery was a lightly graying man in his 40s. You pegged his accent as English, the “casual posh” kind. On a scale from Dame Maggie Smith to Dick Van Dyke's attempt at cockney, you’d put Avery on a Benedict Cumberbatch level.

“Well, I met her mother in Houston,” Avery replied, nodding at the girl beside you. “She and Emily joined me here in Helena after we were married this past spring.”

Emily confirmed with a nod. “Yep, starting school here in a few months.”

At that, you could smile. “Me too, actually.”

Emily gave you a confused look while she fiddled with an app on her phone.

“What? You’re still in school?” she asked.

“No,” you laughed. “I’m—”

“She’s a college professor,” Mary tacked on. “AKA: a giant nerd.”

Emily tried not to smile at your expense. You just shook your head at your friend.

“Thanks,” you said wryly, despite your amusement. “We can’t all be personal trainers. One can only take so much Spandex.”

Mary rolled her eyes and prepared to fire back a retort, but your attention shifted back to Emily, who seemed to be debating whether to press a red button on her phone. You thought it looked like a voice recording app.

You followed her line of vision and saw Paige and Luke up ahead—a young “happy couple” here at Sunny Day Excursions. They were whisper-yelling at each other, sniping something about Luke’s birthday. Apparently, he had a problem with getting another year older.

Don’t we all, you thought, with no small amount of sarcasm. The guy had been a sour apple since the start of this trip, and to be honest, he was starting to get on your damn nerves.

“This is like, prime time stuff for my podcast,” Emily whispered.

You looked over at her. “Oh yeah? What’s your podcast about?”

“Relationships, lies, that sort of thing,” she replied.

You almost grimaced. Good luck finding willing subjects for that one.

Mary snickered on your other side. She leaned close to your ear so only you would hear.

“God, Paige’s voice is so effing annoying. Like a chipmunk on helium,” she said. “I feel sorry for him.”

You shot her a dry look. “He’s the one asking for it, if you ask me. But they’ve been going at it the whole time. Makes me feel sorry for both of them.”

You shook your head and kept walking on the trail. Mary sobered as she stared back at you. She was reminded of why you two were really here, and what you’d been through this past year…

What you all had been through.

You and Mary fell behind Avery and Emily on the trail, giving Mary the opportunity to touch your arm and stop you in the middle of the trail.

“Do you really plan to stay here?” she asked. “In dusty-ass Montana? With the snakes and the bears and the old hicks?”

“Well, I got the key to my apartment before we got here,” you said. And she knew that. “My aunt is letting me crash with her until the rest of my things ship over in a couple of weeks, and I start a new job in the fall. So yeah, I’m staying.”

Mary’s lips pursed. She gave you a long look, but you held your ground. You even popped your Airpods in for good measure. You were done with this conversation.

She huffed and kept walking.

You watched your friend go in annoyance. You knew she would try to talk you out of your decision at some point on this trip, but you hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

Heaving a sigh, you looked up at the clear sky above you, filtered through the tall trees. You took a moment to collect yourself in this great big no man’s land, where you could finally let yourself slow down for a minute, and breathe.

You raised the volume in your Airpods when a particular song came through.

“All of her days have gone soft and cloudy. All of her dreams have gone dry,” crooned the soft melody. You nodded to the rhythm of the mellow notes, but all the while, you tried to blink through the sting of tears.

“All of her nights have gone sad and shady. She's getting ready to fly…”

You rubbed your left hand, where you still had the tan line of the ring you used to wear.

“It’s really okay, sweetie,” Mary tried to console you, rubbing her hand between your shoulders.

After the hike, you all had returned to camp and sat down to brunch. It was an amazing spread, with waffles and muffins and Danishes, eggs done three different ways, toast with jam, assorted sandwiches, coffee and orange juice (and sparkling wine for the adults).

But even with a huge plate of appetizing food in front of you, you were sulking a bit. You had your face covered by your hands as you rested your elbows on the table.

“One of my only goals on this trip was to ride a damn horse, and I couldn’t even do that,” you said.

Sunny Barnes and her husband Buck were the heads and hosts of this whole trip. And after the hike, their son, Cormack, had tried to help you onto the nice chestnut mare the handler had brought out of the stable for you. But your entire body had locked up in fear at the prospect of being vaulted onto the horse.

In fairness, she was huge. And you were both afraid of heights, and animals that could buck you off its back and trample you.

You hadn’t been able to speak. You just shook your head vigorously every time Cormack asked you if you were okay.

So he’d graciously patted your back and gave the mare to Emily instead.

“I’ve never been able to ride a horse either,” Avery offered in commiseration. You lowered your hands and gave him a wan smile.

Emily was carving an apple with an impressive (and somewhat scary) looking pocketknife. She shrugged.

“It’s not so hard,” she said. But, perhaps realizing how she sounded, she looked up and gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry. I mean, I’m sure you’ll get it! It’s hard in the beginning, but once you get used to it, it’s like riding a bike.”

Right. A bike with hooves, you thought, ripping a piece of bread from your egg and cheese sandwich.

Mary bumped your shoulder with a teasing smile. “You just got showed up by a high schooler. Again.”

You pursed your lips in amusement. You tossed the piece of bread. It hit her dead between the eyes. You giggled at the way she jumped with a start.

“Real mature,” she shot back.

“Yeah,” you replied, taking a giant bite of your sandwich for good measure. “I learned from you.”

Even Emily snickered, making Mary roll her eyes in amusement.

Shortly after, Avery and his stepdaughter were finished with brunch and got up to get back to their tents.

You glanced over and noticed that Emily had left her knife on the table, now closed in its sheath.

Sheriff Beau Arlen may have still been relatively new in town, but he considered himself a consummate professional.

He’d agreed to accompany Cassie, the local private investigator (and his friend), up to this mountain pass to look for a missing backpacker. Questioning Buck and Sunny Barnes and their crew was just good old-fashioned, thorough police work.

But if it also gave Beau a chance to check on his daughter up here “glamping” with her half-baked stepfather, then he couldn’t pass up on that opportunity, now could he?

After talking to Buck and Sunny, who hadn’t seen hide or hair of the backpacker, Beau let Cassie take care of questioning Cormack Barnes while Beau found his daughter outside her tent. After giving her a big hug and inspecting her “tent” (Really? he thought. Looks more like a hotel room than a tent.), he asked her how her trip was going so far.

“Good, Dad. But you really didn’t have to come all the way out here just to check up on me,” Emily said. She was amused, but no longer surprised to see him.

“No, no, no. I didn’t, okay?” Beau refuted. Though at the look on her face, he knew he wasn’t fooling her. She was a sharp kid. “All right, maybe not the only reason. We had to talk to Sunny about a missing backpacker. It’s something Cassie’s investigating.”

Emily’s amusement faded into surprise, and then concern.

“Wait, what?” she said.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Just, you know…parents probably didn’t get the memo that ‘off-the-grid’ was part of the deal,” he said, giving her a meaningful raise of his brows. Maybe his daughter didn’t have to screen so many of his calls while she was on this trip.

“Overprotective parents, huh?” Emily dryly remarked.

“The worst,” Beau agreed, shaking his head.

But he smiled. Just seeing her made his whole week better…and it alleviated some of the hurt in his heart. Not getting to be with her on a trip like this stung. And knowing Avery was the one who got to be there for her grated on him.

Beau was already missing too much of his daughter’s life, and he still wasn’t too sure on how to deal with that.

Speak of the devil, he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Avery approaching. Beau forced himself to look as close to pleasant as he could get around his ex-wife’s husband.

While Mary went back to the tent to freshen up, you grabbed Emily’s pocketknife and went to look for her so you could return it. It had a wood-carved hilt and had her initials, E. A., engraved on the side. The knife looked special, not the kind of thing you wanted to lose.

You found her outside her tent with her stepfather, and a man you didn’t know. He had broad shoulders and short brown hair that swept above his brow. When he turned to look at you, the first thing you noticed was the cut of his bearded chin, and then the green of his eyes.

You didn’t realize it, but your insides stilled, just for a moment. Then you remembered to smile.

Avery looked a bit tense, as did the newcomer. You sensed you were interrupting a tete-a-tete. 

“Uh, hi. I’m sorry,” you said, and extended the sheathed knife toward Emily. “Just wanted to get this back to you. You left it at the table.”

“Oh! Thanks,” Emily said gratefully.

“Well, hi there,” said the new guy. He was tall, you noted, wearing a beige jacket over a buttoned-down shirt, some jeans, and boots. It was a casual look, but all worked very well for him…in a rugged cowboy sense.

“This is my dad,” Emily supplied.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen, ma’am,” he said, giving you a more friendly smile that you matched in kind when you shook his hand. You also gave him your name to go along with it.

“You here for a little belated vacation, Sheriff?” you added.

“No. Matter of fact, I’m here on police business,” he replied. That concerned you, but he was quick to wave a dismissive hand. “Everything’s okay here. Just checking on a missing backpacker. But it looks like we’ll have to continue our search for him elsewhere.”

You hummed at that in concern. “Well, I hope you find him.”

“I do too,” he agreed with a nod.

Then, Emily took the slight pause in the conversation as her chance to escape.

“Okay, Dad, well, we’re gonna go hike down to the lake,” she said, gesturing at Avery. “But as you can see, I’m fine. We’re fine.”

Beau’s smile became a bit tight, but he nodded in understanding. He gave her a big hug, and you could see he was reluctant to let her go. Avery stood behind them. He held tension in his shoulders. You felt a bit awkward yourself, being in the midst of what was clearly an uneasy family dynamic.

Beau released his daughter. After she took off with Avery following close behind, Beau turned to you next. You tried not to blush at the sight of his handsome face.

“Sorry, again,” you said, raising a placating hand. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

His lips twitched upward, and he shook his head. “You’re fine. Though you don’t look like a local. You from outta town?”

I could say the same thing about you, cowboy, you thought. There was a slight southern drawl in his voice that sounded like Alabama. Maybe Texas?

“You got me,” you nodded. “I’m from Chicago originally, but…I’ve actually just moved here to Helena.”

“Ahh, a city girl,” he remarked. “Small world. I just got here a few months ago myself. Houston, Texas.”

Your smile brightened. Right on the money.

“Yeah, I figured,” you couldn’t help teasing him a little. His grin kicked up in the corner.

“How’re the mountains and fresh air treating you then?” he asked. “Better than that blanket a’ smog in Chicago.”

“We do not have smog…or, well, not that much,” you laughed, “but yes, I’m actually really liking it here so far. I mean, I just got here about a week ago. I’m still learning. Though Emily actually tried to help me ride a horse today.”

“Yeah?” His brows raised. “How’d that go?”

You had to laugh. A kind of self-deprecating laugh that had you half-covering your face to stem off your blush.

“Not well,” you admitted.

Beau ducked his head with a smile. He met your eyes in amusement, but not without kindness.

“Well, here’s a tip for ya,” he said. He planted his feet, held his hands up into lightly clenched fists. “The trick is in the legs. Grip tight, but not too tight. He’ll think you’re rarin’ to go.”

You blinked a bit wider. Was that just honest advice…or was he sort of flirting with you?

It made you blush in earnest.

“Ah. Good to know,” you said with a laugh. He treated you with a tip of his imaginary hat.

“Hey,” someone called out.

Both of your heads turned to a tall black woman with long curly hair. She gave you a polite smile before she nodded up at Beau.

“You ready to go?” she asked.

“Ah, yep,” Beau nodded. He gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry, gotta get back to the station.”

“Oh, of course,” you said. But you held up a finger. “Wait, just a sec.”

You hastened back over to the table of confections from brunch and offered them a chocolate chip muffin each for the road. Cassie politely declined, but Beau gladly took his.

“Although, are you trying to stereotype me or somethin’?” he teased.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but after a moment, it hit you. You’d just given a cop a baked good.  

“At least it wasn’t a donut,” you quipped, despite your embarrassment. Beau still looked bemused, but he let you off the hook.

“That’s okay. I’ve never been known to turn down free food,” he assured.

“He really doesn’t,” Cassie confirmed. You noticed how she was waiting, arms crossed.

“Well, there you go! Sorry for keeping you,” you said.

“Not at all, darlin’,” said Beau. His smile had a charming gleam. “Nice to meet you.”

You quirked a smile back. “Wow, you are from Texas.”

You didn’t think you’d ever been called darlin’ in your life.

Beau’s good humor shifted into slight embarrassment himself.

“Sorry. I’ve been told to stop doing that,” he said. When he chuckled, you did along with him. You weren’t offended by it, just surprised by the old-fashioned endearment.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Nice to meet you too, Sheriff.”

You raised a hand in goodbye, and Beau returned it, watching you go. Meanwhile, Cassie watched him with a small smirk. He stepped down from the short platform in front of Emily’s tent to meet her.

“Were you just checking out Glamper Girl? In front of your daughter, no less,” Cassie remarked.

Beau shot her a look of denial. “I did no such thing. I’m a professional. And a gentleman, mind you.”

Cassie rose a brow at him. It stirred up a bit of his defensiveness. 

“But, I’ll have you know that Em had already moved on when I had a friendly conversation with the glamper,” he said.

Cassie rolled her eyes. Right.

That afternoon, you decided to bring your sketchpad and your modest collection of paints to the lake. You sat on the bank and tried to paint, while Mary joined the others in swimming.

“That looks nice,” Emily’s voice startled you from behind.

You twisted to look at her, and she gave you an apologetic look. She was dressed to go for a swim in a one-piece bathing suit and some shorts. She seemed more of a conservative dresser than typical high school girls her age. Maybe that had something to do with a policeman being her father, or maybe that was just her personality.

“Sorry,” she said, raising her hands.

“It’s okay.” You waved it off and gestured for her to sit beside you if she wanted. She did so, admiring your work over your shoulder. You felt a little embarrassed by it, but you didn’t mind her watching you try to paint ripples of light on the water.

“Are you an artist?” she asked.

You shot her a smile. “You’re very sweet, but no. I just started this year.”

You’d just Googled some therapeutic techniques instead of, you know, going to therapy. You just knew that if you did, your aunt would probably tell your parents, who would never let you hear the end of it. Specifically, why it was a waste of time. Your father especially would have something to say.

But one of the sources you found suggested trying out some creative outlets to calm the mind and think productively, but not create more stress for yourself. You’d tried a few different things, but landed on painting. It was working for you so far, even if you didn’t think you were that good.

“How do you like Montana so far?” you asked your companion. “Your dad told me you guys just moved here too, a few months ago.”

“Yeah, when my mom got remarried, my dad moved to stay close to me,” Emily explained.

Your brows raised. Your painting hand paused with the brush near the page.

“Well, that’s a good father,” you said. You smiled at the thought of Beau Arlen. The way he hugged his daughter before, like she was his entire world, and the fact that he’d moved entire states just to stay with her, told you a great deal about the town’s new sheriff.

Emily nodded, but her lips were pressed. “He’s a bit overprotective.”

“Well, he is a cop,” You said, smiling. “I assume that’s just part of the package.”

“I get that,” she said. “It’s just…a bit much sometimes.”

You gave her a sympathetic look. “I understand. My dad can be like that too. He’s got his soft moments, but he can be a real tough nut too… He’s a retired fireman.”

“Wow, that’s cool,” Emily said. She looked impressed. “Did you ever want to be a firefighter?”

You chuckled. “No, and he never wanted me to. It just wasn’t my beat, anyway.”

In the many years before your father had risen in the ranks to firehouse chief, your mother had often worried about him when he was on shift. Being a firefighter in inner-city Chicago had brought some hard and dangerous calls.

But you had always been more bookish, and both your parents were grateful for that.

You sighed. Your paintbrush made a stroke of deep green on the page, creating darker shades in the bottom of the lake.

“I did end up dating one though. Almost married him too,” you muttered, before you could stop yourself. You forgot you were talking to an insatiably curious girl.

“Really? What happened?” she asked. You looked over at her, and she was staring at you with her full attention. You remembered then that her podcast was supposed to be about relationships, but you had no desire to be a subject.

“It didn’t work out,” you said at last, and with difficulty.

“Why?” Emily asked.

Your internal struggle kept you quiet. It gave time for Emily to really see the withdrawn, almost pained look on your face, the slight hunch of your shoulders. She deflated guiltily.

“Uh, sorry,” she said.

You offered a small smile. “It’s okay, honey.”

“I’ll uh, just let you get back to painting,” she said. You waved her goodbye after she got up and left, giving you one last look before she joined her stepfather in the lake.

You let out a deep breath. The teen was tenacious, and naturally curious. That in itself wasn’t such a bad thing. But as you watched her splash at Avery, laughing that weightless laugh that kids got to have, you realized how much you missed being that young and free in your heart.

Again, out of habit, you set down your brush and rubbed at your empty left ring finger.

Mary finally joined you back in your shared tent after a long night of socializing by the fire. You had kept to the tent, reading Much Ado About Nothing for one of your classes that would start in the fall. It wasn’t your first time reading the Shakespeare play, by any means, but you did want to brush up on it.

“You know, you’re actually supposed to be vacationing on this vacation,” Mary pointed out. She started changing into her pajamas for bed. You were already cozy in one of your old college hoodies and some shorts, not to mention snuggled under the warm blankets.

“I am,” you said defensively. “I hiked, I painted, I ate no less than one burger, a basket of fries, and three smores, and now I’m reading.”

“Yeah, for school,” she pointed out. “I may not be as smart as you, but I know homework when I see it.”

You shot her a smile. “You’re plenty smart, M.”

She snorted and slipped into bed beside you. It felt like the sleepovers you two used to have in college, years ago, when she’d come to crash in your dorm, or you in hers. She’d been a philosophy major (despite not giving two shits about Socrates), forced to attend college by her parents. You were an English major, working three part-time jobs just to get you through until graduation.

“Hey,” she said, laying a hand on your shoulder. You turned to her in question. She seemed more serious than usual.

“I’m worried about you,” she said. “And I’m not the only one.”

You sighed. Lowering your book, you leaned back against your pillows and stared up at the tent’s fairy lights.

“I know,” you replied. “But you don’t need to be.”

“Yeah you keep saying that, but you know the real reason I’m here, right?” Mary asked. Her insistent hand on your arm made you meet her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this," she said. "You don’t have to move out here and leave everything behind. You should just come home with me. Your parents, our friends—everyone wants to be there for you, like we have all year.”

Your lips pursed, and you shook your head.

“I’m not going to change my mind. So if that’s really why you’re here, and not to just spend some time with me, as my friend, then you should just go home,” you said. “I’ll leave here and go to my aunt’s house. I’m sure your parents can negotiate some kind of refund.”

Mary got angry and huffy, just like you thought she would. You weren’t playing around though. This was your life, and your decision.

If your friends and your family couldn’t be happy for you, or at least understanding, then they could at least respect you. You just weren’t sure when they’d get the hint that this was real.

You were moving to Montana, permanently.

On the drive back into town from the camping site, Beau ate his chocolate chip muffin and tried his best to listen to Cassie—to her theories on where the backpacker might’ve gone, and how best to tell the parents to keep her on this investigation.

A good part of him was still thinking about his daughter, wishing he could be there with her right now. 

And maybe, his mind occasionally wandered…thinking about the pretty shade of your eyes when you smiled at him.

AN: And there we have it, Part 1 of a new series! If you liked it, please let me know! 🥰

And a special Happy Birthday to @jackles010378! 💖 I was going to say we're both Aries (mine is next month) but forgot Pisces comes first lol. ♓

Next Time:

The trees were tall and dark now. The moon was filtering through them like the sun had during other day hikes, but it was much more ominous at night.

“Shit,” you muttered. You gripped your flashlight in worry as panic started to well up in your chest.

Now you were lost.

You jumped with a start when the hoot of a bird passed by overhead.

Shiiiit. This was very bad.

You kept moving forward on what you thought was the trail. That was all you could do, keep moving forward. You made a few turns around some trees, occasionally calling out for Sunny, or Mary, or anyone to hear you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 2

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @ades106

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @deans-baby-momma @tabsluvsu @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

@antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @deans-spinster-witch @agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @iprobablyshipit91 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @lostin-jensenseyes @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

#All of Her Days #Take Me Home #Part 1 #Beau Arlen series #big sky #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #Emily Arlen #cassie dewell #beau arlen x you #Beau Arlen smut #Jensen Ackles characters #big sky season 3 #zepskies writes

[flemingsfreckles]

Be a Good Teammate pt. 4

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 first!

Preview: You and Jessie have dinner at her new place.

Warnings: it’s angsty yall, buckle up (just for a bit), swearing, very brief mention of sex (no descriptions, nothing like that, but it gets mentioned)

WC: 5.5k

A/N: I think this is the end of this series. I never intend to make it more than 1 part honestly, but you all enjoyed it enough so here we are at Part 4. This also ended up more angsty than I had planned so, whoops :)

It was nearing 5pm when your Uber pulled up in front of the address Jessie had sent you. You thanked the driver and hopped out. You hadn’t thought much of the address, not noticing that there wasn’t an apartment number or a unit letter attached to the end of it, so you were surprised to find yourself standing in front of a house instead of an apartment complex as you had expected.

It was a small little blue house, wood fencing all around, a good sized front yard, a few trees, it was exactly what you would expect Jessie to pick out. 

You pulled your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to let her know you had arrived. You had gotten back to the hotel, quickly thrown on a Nike sweatshirt and a fitted pair of gray joggers.

“Hi.” You look up to see Jessie walking through the doorway and down the steps toward the fence gate. You put your phone back in your pocket, not needing to let her know you were here anymore. She reached the gate, unlatched it and held it open for you to come inside. You notice that she quickly looks you up and down as you walk through into her front yard. You can’t help but do the same to her.

Jessie’s hair was down, still slightly wet from her postgame shower, she was wearing a lavender colored long sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants. She looked cozy, as if she was ready to cuddle up on the couch for the evening like she had mentioned wanting to do.

“You bought a house?” Your curiosity gets the best of you and you can’t help but ask. 

“Yeah, I did. I lived with Janine and her fiancé for the first few weeks while I looked at places, and then I had to leave for the gold cup and I just couldn’t find any apartment that felt like home. I started looking at houses instead once I got back. This was actually the first one I saw and I really liked it. It’s not too big, which works since it’s just me right now but has some room if I need it in the future.” Your brain wanders to the thought of Jessie having her own kids in the future, you knew she wanted them and you had seen how good she was with kids over the years. 

“Plus I figured even if I’m only here for a couple years, I can keep the house. It’s only been a few weeks but I love the area. I'd consider coming back here to settle when soccer is over.” She opened the front door, stepping back to let you walk in first. 

You slip off your shoes, placing them on the mat next to the door where Jessie’s shoes lay neatly in a row. Looking up you realize you're standing in her living room, there’s a large gray couch, a small table in front of it, a tv, a bookshelf that’s filled with books and art and other trinkets. 

“You can keep a plant alive now?” You tease her as you see she has a variety of green plants. In college you had watched her become what you described as a serial killer of plants.

“I’m getting better. A lot of them were housewarming gifts from my teammates so I maybe just haven't had enough time to kill them.” 

Stepping out of the entryway you walk over to her bookshelf, looking at the various titles, there’s a couple photos placed on the bookshelf, one with her parents after she had won the gold medal, one of her and her Chelsea teammates holding up a couple trophies, one of her and her siblings all wearing matching Christmas pajamas. The opening to the kitchen was just to your right, you step in its direction before turning to look at Jessie who was following closely behind you.

“Can I see the kitchen?” You don’t want to invade her privacy by inviting yourself to take a tour of her place.

As if she read your mind she gestures her hand in the direction of the kitchen. “Go ahead, I can just give you the whole tour now while we wait for the food, it should be on its way by now. I was also thinking we can watch the Angel City and Orlando game, only if you want it should be on at 7. ” She looks at the clock mounted on the wall. 

“Yeah that sounds good.” You reply as you step into the kitchen.

Her kitchen was cute, the same wood accent from the outside of the house scattered throughout. She offered you an ice pack for your nose as you stood looking at her fridge. You declined, having just taken the pain meds, it was bearable pain. 

As you continue to move through her house Jessie makes a few comments here and there about what she liked about the house so much, the wood flooring, the large windows that let in natural light, the little nook that she had set up to be a place to read. Hearing her talk about the little things, paint colors, furniture was so simple and yet it made you feel like you were back to your old friendship. The simple minded discussions, the joking around, all the tiny moments you would have with her, it hit you how much you really missed just her existence and company.

You get to two closed doors at the end of the hallway, you point at the one closest to you and look back at Jessie.

“Linen closet, nothing exciting unless you want to see towels.” You move your finger to point at the other. “My bedroom.”

“Oh,” You’re not sure what to say, the closed door seemed like an obvious sign to not go in. Jessie again, able to tell what was running through your head, speaks up.

“You can go in, I just close the door out of habit. I don’t have anything to hide.” Wanting to see her bedroom, you push open the door. It reminds you a little bit of her bedroom in your college apartment. Not much as far as decor, just a few special things on display throughout. Her bed in the center of the room, a nightstand on one side.

“Sorry it’s still a mess in here, I haven’t had a ton of time to dedicate to unpacking and I was more focused on the rooms everyone else would see.” You look around, trying to find the mess she was referring to. Her bed was made, no clothes scattered across the floor, no pile of clean laundry to be put away, no water bottles on bedsides, not even dust, just a few boxes stacked neatly in the corner, the one on top open as if she had been in the middle of unpacking when you had arrived.

“If this is what you consider a mess, we have completely different standards of mess.” You let out a laugh, Jessie doesn’t say anything, just gives you a smile and slow nod. 

You’re interrupted by her phone ringing, she picks it up and before answering the call she points around the corner. “If you want to see my bathroom, it's through the closet. I’ll be right back.” 

She walks out of the room and you hear her answer the call. You take a second look around her bedroom, looking at the couple of personal items that were scattered, photos of her and her Canada teammates, photos of her family, photos of skylines and nature that you assume she had taken. She has her array of cameras all neatly set on a shelf, displaying them. Making your way over to her closet you walk through to peek into her bathroom. It looked like a bathroom, nothing too special about it, a shower, toilet, a vanity with two sinks, her toothbrush, hairbrush, and other bathroom things just placed neatly around one side.

You turn back to go wait in her bedroom being done looking at the bathroom. You walk into her closet, taking a quick glance around, the closet had more boxes in it than unpacked clothing items. Each box was neatly labeled, varying in sizes, all stacked on top of one another. You look at what clothes she had unpacked, it was nearly all clothes for training, one pile had clothes with the maple leaf and the name Canada across them, the other a mix of red, green, some blue, with the thorn’s logo and Portland across them. Looking back toward the exit of the closet your eye catches on a box, more specifically the label of the box catches your eye.

It was a box with your name on it. Printed carefully along the side, in Jessie’s handwriting. You could feel your heart begin to race. You couldn’t move, your eyes staring, your own name looking back at you. Why did she have a box with your name on it? 

“Foods here.” You didn’t even hear Jessie coming, the sound of your blood rushing through your ears muffling outside noises. She comes around the corner, you quickly look away, not wanting her to see you and think you were snooping through her stuff. You weren’t, but you could see how it could look suspicious, but then again she was the one with a box labeled for you. She must’ve seen your sudden movement as she looks at you with a questioning look, then at where the box sat, you see the moment she knows you’ve seen the box. Her eyes widen and dart back to you. You expect her to say something, she does, just not about the box.

“It’s on the kitchen table.” Her face returns to a relaxed state, almost emotionless.

“Perfect.” Mirroring her behavior you decide maybe you’ll both just pretend that box doesn’t exist. Maybe you’ll just let it eat away at you for years, just like you had done with your feelings for the girl. You follow her out of the closet and bedroom back down the hallway and into the kitchen. 

You both make a plate, grab a water, and sit down at her kitchen table. She sits first and you’re then forced to make the choice between sitting next to her or across from her. You decide on sitting across, hoping she doesn’t judge your choice. It’s quiet for the first few minutes, just the sound of silverware. Jessie keeps her eyes down, looking very interested in the plate of food sitting before her. You knew it was going to be awkward, seeing her in a non-football setting for the first time in so long, you were prepared for the small talk, asking about your family, your friends, the weather, you weren’t prepared for whatever this was. Both of you sitting here thinking about that box brought a whole different level of unexpected discomfort, it was making you itch.

“Your girlfriend doesn’t mind you having a box with another girl's name on it?” Unable to hold it in any longer, you let the question come out, you quickly kick yourself for asking that way, bringing her girlfriend into this conversation. Jessie picks up her head and puts her fork down.

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore.” Choosing the wrong time to take a sip from your glass you choke slightly causing a coughing fit. Jessie just looks at you as you try to calm down. Once you stop coughing she continues muttering the words, “and she actually did mind. A lot.”

Your brain is spinning, you heard her keep talking but your mind kept repeating the words she had spoken “not my girlfriend anymore”.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you split.”  You now feel guilty for bringing up the girl.

“Of course you didn’t, you stopped talking to me, you didn’t get to have the privilege of knowing that we split.” Her tone of voice was shifting, becoming annoyed. Wanting to ask more but also not wanting to pry on a relationship you barely knew about.

“Why didn’t you just get rid of the stuff? If that would’ve made her happy?”

“I don’t know.” She pauses looking down at her hands. “I mean I do, it’s,” she sighs. “To be fair it wasn’t just the box, she had always been a little suspicious of our relationship, I told her the truth, that there’s never been anything between us, we didn’t have a history. And she believed me, I think, at least at the start. But then when you stopped talking to me, she’d catch me watching your games, checking up on you, looking at old photos of us, and she eventually found some clothing of yours that I had put away, along with the notes we used to write each other, the birthday cards, the Polaroids, everything. I wasn’t intentionally hiding but it was out of sight out of mind for me. I didn’t need the constant reminder that I had been dumped by my best friend. She again made the assumption that we had dated, or at least had slept together. She read the letters claiming friends to talk to each other in that manner. That was just the start of the mess.”

Nodding along to her story, you try to show her you’re paying attention, and you were, it was just hard when your mind was drifting to a hundred different thoughts. 

 “And then the rumors started about my transfer. I hadn’t told her about it, I hadn't even mentioned the idea of leaving London. I wasn’t even sure it was going to go through, it was a lot of money for Portland and I was waiting on visas and medical and all that bureaucracy and we got into an argument about it. She accused me of moving for the wrong reasons, she brought up you.” Jessie pauses for a minute as if to collect her thoughts before she continues.

“ I then said some things about you I shouldn’t have said to her and then it was over with her shortly after.” The volume of her voice drops as she rushed her words at the end of her sentence.

“You could’ve just thrown it all out at the start, if that would’ve fixed things with her, I wouldn’t have known.” Your statement is true, you didn’t even know she had kept all those things you wouldn’t have known if she had gotten rid of them.

“It wasn’t that easy, I know we weren’t talking, and like I said we weren’t even friends, but fuck I missed you so much. You were my best friend for nearly 5 years, only to get dropped without a reason and I was mad at you, sure but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of that box of stuff.”

“There was a reason, I hope you know that.”

“Well you didn't give me a reason, if you just would’ve told me I could’ve fixed it or apologized or something. Instead I just had to sit and run through every decision I had ever made questioning where I went wrong with you, what I did to hurt you.” You can see tears welding in her eyes as she continues to stare at you, despite the tears, her eyes are cold and make you feel tiny under her gaze.

You stayed sitting, staring back at her, having no clue on what to say to her, stuck between wanting to apologize and also wanting to yell back at her. You silence allows her to continue.

“I would’ve done anything to have you back in my life, all you had to do was ask, but it felt like you wanted nothing to do with me. And that fucking hurt.” Her fist comes down hard on the table, it startles you, making you sit back away from where you had been leaning against the table. You cross your arms as you sit back and bow your head to stare down.

“I couldn’t ask.” It comes out quiet, from your mouth almost as if it was an accident.

“What?”

“I couldn’t ask you to fix it, it wouldn’t have been fair.” Speaking louder you bring your head back up to look at her.

Now it’s her turn to say nothing. She looks from you to where her hands sat on the table. She just waits, giving you the space to give her more information. You know you owe her the explanation, what you don’t expect is the word vomit that comes out once you start.

“I couldn’t ask you to break up with her, I couldn’t tell you I was jealous of her, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you those things, you seemed so happy with her, it wouldn’t have been fair. I had my chance for 4 years before she existed to tell you and I didn’t, but I also couldn’t stand seeing you so happy with her, it tore me apart, I wanted you to be happy and you were. It just sucked that you were happy with someone else. It sucked trying to be a supportive friend, I hated having to hear about your dates, and hearing about your first kiss, and I really hated having to hear all about the first time you two fucked.” The last word coming off with extra emphasis, the memory of her call to you after their night together briefly plays in your mind, only making you more upset.

“I hated it Jessie, but I sat through it for as long as I could because I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to be a good friend to you. I wanted to still be your best friend but I couldn’t and all I wanted was for her to no longer exist. I started to think horrible things about her and your relationship and that’s when I knew I needed to take a step back for my own health. I was no longer being a good friend to you. So I stepped back.” Your voice was loud, you were slightly out of breath barely stopping between words as you yelled across toward her, you’re not sure why you were yelling, you weren’t trying to yell at her. It wasn’t her fault she had found someone to make her happy that wasn’t you. But the past year of frustration had built and built and unfortunately this was the time the wall broke, and here you were practically shouting at Jessie across her own kitchen table.

Jessie doesn’t say anything. She stands up from the table, the sound of her chair scraping the floor was the only noise in an otherwise silent room. Grabbing her own empty plate and then extending her hand she offers to take yours. You pass it to her. She walks them over to the sink, putting them down, running the water over them. You stand up, not wanting to feel like a terrible house guest, you start packing the leftovers back up. You open the fridge door and place them inside. The water shuts off and Jessie puts the plates on a mat to dry. She walks past you, not saying anything as she moves into the living room. You hear the noise of the couch, assuming she has sat down you take a few steps toward the other room. 

She’s sitting on the couch, bent over with her head in her hands. Her thumb is rubbing against her temple and she’s bouncing her knees. Leaning against the doorway you stay quiet, you feel bad for yelling at her, seeing her overwhelmed like this because of you, tugged on your heart. You wanted to rush to her side and hug her but you also knew that would probably be the worst thing you could do. You stayed put, leaned against the wall just watching her. She lets out a large breath and then sits up. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t,” you shake your head, not sure what she’s asking. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“I know, but you look like you want to, so what? Just say it. Don’t be a coward again.” Her words are harsh, insulting you in a way she hadn’t ever before. To be fair to her you realized you had also never yelled at her before either.

“I’m not a coward.”

“Hiding your feelings for 6 whole years, 5 of those years when we were best friends feels a little cowardly, but that’s just my opinion.” You hadn’t seen Jessie like this often, especially towards you, she was almost being mean, not caring what she said to you or how she was saying it. 

“Fine, what did you say about me to her? Before you broke up, you said that you said stuff to her about me that you shouldn’t have. What did you say?” You can’t help but ask, the question of what she had said had been sitting in your brain since she mentioned it.

When Jessie doesn’t respond right away you push her. “Don’t be a coward.” You mock her tone from earlier using her own words. She rolls her eyes at you.

“She accused me of moving to try and be closer to you, she said I wanted to rekindle our relationship. And by that point I couldn’t take her nagging about you anymore and so I was honest with her. I told her the reason I had kept all of your stuff, the reason I checked up on you, the reason I would look at old photos of us, even though you didn’t care about me anymore. I had to tell her my memories of you were comforting for me.” She looks you in the eyes for a second before looking down at her hands.

“Those memories felt like home, that you felt like home. And I then had to tell her that was something I had never felt with her.”

You’re not sure how to respond, trying to process all of Jessie’s words before saying anything back to her. You move off the wall and sit down on the couch, putting some distance between where you both sat.

“Naturally, admitting having feelings for someone else to your current partner doesn’t go over well so that was the end of that.” She mumbles as you sit down.

“You have feelings for me?” Maybe you had heard her wrong, doubting that this conversation was actually happening. She slowly blinks at you.

“Did they check you for a concussion after the hit?” Her question only confuses you more. 

“What?” 

“Oh my god.” Jessie throws her hands up. “Yes, I have feelings for you. That’s what I just said, I just didn’t really know that they were those kinds of feelings until you stopped talking to me and I realized how important you were and that it felt like I was missing a part of me that no one besides you could fill. And then I had her, and that was fine for a little bit, but she wasn’t you.”

You have half a thought to call her out, call her a coward the way she had to you for hiding her own feelings, but decide against it. 

The silence takes over the room, you’re not sure what to say to her. What do you say to someone you’ve been secretly in love with for 5 years when they finally admit they want you back? Where do you even start to make up for the time you both wasted? Where do you go from this conversation? 

Thankfully you don’t have to figure it out at that moment as both your phone and Jessie’s vibrate and light up, both of you reviving the notification that the Angel City and Orlando game was set to start. 

Jessie looks up from reading the notification, “Do you still want to watch the game? I understand if you don’t, I probably wouldn’t want to stay around someone who called me a coward.” 

“I want to stay, if that’s okay. You can yell at me and call me whatever, but just being around you has really made me realize how much I’ve missed your company. So, I’d like to stay if you’ll let me?” 

“Of course.” She reaches for the remote on her coffee table and points it toward the tv turning it on.

“Can I get that ice pack you offered earlier?” No longer caught up in the intense conversation you feel the pain from your nose starting to return in full force. Jessie tosses the tv remote in your direction and hops up from the couch immediately, rushing to her freezer. She comes back with an ice pack, a bag of frozen veggies, a towel, and a bottle of pain meds. 

“Do you want to just sit and hold it or lay down? I can get you a different pillow. I brought the towel in case the direct ice is too cold. And if you want these.” She gives the bottle of medicine a shake. “I also wasn’t sure if the ice pack would sit nicely on your face so I got this.” She holds out the package of frozen vegetables to you. 

“Yeah that’ll actually probably work best.” You take it from her hand. “Thanks.” You add. She placed the pain meds on the coffee table and leaves to put the other ice pack back in the freezer. You use the remote to find the game, and Jessie returns as they commentators start talking about the starting lineups for each side.

When Jessie sits down you notice she sits a lot closer to you then the two of you had been before. Your hips and thighs are only inches apart. She leans back and puts her feet up onto the table. 

You both sit in what is now a more comfortable silence, watching the game. You both make comments here and there about footwork, ball movement, passes, shots, critiquing and complementing the players. At halftime Jessie stands up, takes the now thawed bag of vegetables from you and brings it back to the freezer. She comes back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and waters.

When she sits back down, she closes the gap between the two of you. The outside of her leg now resting against the outside of yours. She places the popcorn bowl so that it rests on both of you. Jessie leans back to rest against the back of the couch and you do the same. The game starts back up again, you both focusing your attention back to the tv. 

It only takes 5 minutes into the second half for you to feel Jessie shift in her seat. She’s moving only slightly but being hyper aware that she’s pressed up against you, you can’t help but notice her movements. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel her lean her head over, placing it to rest on your shoulder, leaving her body more forcefully against yours. Your whole body tenses, not wanting to move and disturb her. 

You stay like this for a couple minutes. Deciding you couldn’t let her make all the moves you glance down to see Jessie’s hands resting on top of each of her thighs. You place your own hands in the same position, then move the one closest to her, in her direction. You move just as slow as she had until your pinky finger is hovering just over hers. You slowly let your hand fall on top of hers, she doesn’t pull away, or tell you off. Instead she flips her hand so her palm is now facing up. Eager to finish what you had started you now quickly move your hand, interlocking your fingers with hers. You wait a minute, then let the pad of your thumb gently rub against her thumb.

You stayed in that position, holding her hand, her head resting on your shoulder as the two of you watched the remainder of the game. Wanting more time with Jessie you desperately were hoping for an insane amount of added time, unfortunately only 3 minutes are added and the game is quick to end.

Jessie pulls her head off your shoulder, sitting up with a yawn.

“I should probably get back.” You say, realizing it was nearing 9pm and while you didn’t have a curfew, you still didn’t want to be caught coming back too late by any of your teammates knowing you’d never hear the end of it, especially since they knew you were at Jessie's.

“Right.” Jessie stands up from the couch and flips a light on. The sun had gone down as you watched the game and the two of you were in the dark without the light from the tv. She holds her hand out to you, you take it and stand up. You quickly pull out your phone and order an Uber, thankful you were in a larger city and your ride would be here in less than 5 minutes. You move toward the door, bending down to slip your shoes on before standing up facing Jessie. 

“It feels weird to say that I had a really good time tonight with all the yelling that happened, but I did. I had a really good time with you Jessie.” You smile at her.

“I had a good time too, this was nice. I’ve missed you.” She replies to you. She holds her arms out to you, offering a hug. You take a step toward her, leaning in to wrap your arms around her waist as she places hers on your shoulders. You stay hugging, longer than a normal friend’s goodbye hug would be. You both release the hold on each other but you don’t move back from her. You stay face to face, your eyes staring back at her brown ones. 

Much to your surprise Jessie is the one who makes the move. One of her hands comes up to your cheek, her fingers are warm and soft on your skin. Her eyes break contact with yours dropping to your lips quickly and then back up. She starts to lean in but stops just moments before your lips would connect.

“Is this okay?” Her voice is barely audible, quieter than a whisper. 

“Yes.” Before you have a second to think about kissing her it’s already happening. It’s a gentle kiss, her lips just placed on top of yours. She starts to pull away a second later, but you let your head chase her lips, giving her a bit more forceful of a kiss. In doing so, you bump your nose against hers causing you to pull back quickly from her, hand coming to clutch your nose.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I forgot about your nose.” Jessie’s eyes are wide as her hand comes to rest on the forearm of the hand holding your face.

“It’s okay Jess, that was my fault, I forgot too for a second.” You wipe your hand under your nose and look down at your fingers making sure you’re not bleeding again. “It’s not crooked or anything right?”

“No, but those black eyes are starting to come in.” Her eyes dart between both of yours. You both let out a small laugh and then are left in silence.

“I’d like to take you out sometime, on a proper date, if you’d want that?” You look at her hopeful she’ll want to continue whatever the two of you started.

“I do, I want that.” She smiles back at you, you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Okay.” You can’t help but smile big back at her.

“Okay.” She just repeats your words.

“I should be going.” You repeat your words from earlier, you knew you had to go, you just didn’t want to.

Jessie moves her hand from your forearm up to your face to grab your chin. You think for a second she’s going to kiss you again but then she’s pushing your head away from her and to the side. She moves in and places her lips on your cheek. 

“Once your nose is healed you can have more on the lips.”  She says teasingly. The gentle gesture has you blushing more than the kisses to your lips did. She releases your face and you see her eyes look at your cheeks, the blush growing. You turn quickly facing the door, grabbing the handle and stepping out. 

“Goodnight Jessie.” 

#jessie fleming #portland thorns #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt

[mattalit]

Peter Parker x Male Reader

A/N: repost from wattpad

Length: 1.6k

Originally Published: Dec 27, 2022

CW: none

On particularly rough days at school, like today, Peter would ask himself if his internship at Stark Industries was worth the hassle. At least Mr. Stark gave me a cool suit, he thought. It was a Friday and he loved his internship--he should be happy!--but after staying up too late on Thursday and suffering through a Chemistry exam, he wanted little more than to be home. Now that school was over, he allowed himself a moment to breath, but only for a moment. Mr. Stark had chosen today of all days to change his routine.

"(M/N)'s working on something new and I want you to help him," Mr. Stark said. "He thinks he can use spider webs to make a strong, lightweight material. The kid's got big plans for it if it's successful. I thought it sounded right up your alley, Spider-boy."

"It's Spider-man," Peter mumbled indignantly.

"I'll take that as a yes," Mr. Stark said. He spoke over his shoulder, already walking away. "He's in the lab on the fourth floor, third door on your right. Good luck."

When Peter arrived at the lab, he didn't bother knocking; his day had been too long to give such courtesy. He walked into the dimly lit room and closed the door behind. The lab glowed a soft blue and electricity hummed softly as white noise. The right wall held a long bookshelf filled with binders, the edged titled with acronyms and numbers Peter didn't understand. A series of photos were tacked to the far wall, but he couldn't see what they were in the light. Under the photos were multiple terrariums. Each terrarium was filled with short vegetation and a large stick. From this distance, they appeared empty, but Peter wasn't convinced they were uninhabited.

"Who are you?" a voice called. Hunched over a table in the middle of the room was a (H/C) man. The light shining down from a haphazardly fixed lamp made him looker old, tired, and sickly, but, if he had to guess, he looked a year or two older than Peter.

"Oh, uh, I'm Peter. Mr. Stark sent me to help?" Peter cursed himself for making it sound like a question, but being assertive had never been his strong suit.

The man looked down at his work. It was obscured from Peter's view. He seemed to be considering something, but as to what, Peter had no idea.

"Hm," he finally said, looking back to Peter. "Okay."

"Okay?" Peter whispered.

He nodded to himself, then spoke again, "Do you mind hitting the light switch?" Peter did as instructed. "Thanks. I'm (M/N), by the way. I don't remember if we've met before."

In the newfound light, Peter was able to see (M/N) clearly. He looked less old, less tired, and less sickly. His hair was messy and a strong shade of (H/C). His face was kind. He's pretty, Peter thought. He wore an over-sized lab coat with the sleeves rolled up, emphasizing his forearms. He wasn't incredibly fit, but that could be expected from the average scientist. The breast pocket of his lab coat had his name embroidered onto it in cursive. Peter was entirely sure that they had, in fact, met once before, but he wasn't entirely sure where. Considering they were both interns at Stark Industries, it was most likely there, but he didn't voice these thoughts.

"What are you working on?" Peter asked.

"Oh, Tony didn't tell you?" Peter cringed at the informal use of Tony. "I'm harvesting spider silk from orb-weavers and turning it into a fiber. I saw some college somewhere did it and thought I'd try as well. With enough time and, well, enough spiders, I think I can make it better than they can." (M/N) swiveled around in his chair, surveying the room quickly. The room was messy, but not embarrassingly so. There were papers and photos scattered in one corner, binders stacked in another, and chairs piled against left wall. "Oh, uh, sorry for the mess. I wasn't exactly... expecting company."

"Mr. Stark didn't tell you I was coming?"

"He doesn't tell me a lot of things. He's too busy. To be honest, I didn't even think he was listening when I was telling him about this." Offhandedly, (M/N) murmured, "I guess he does care."

Peter didn't say anything.

"Well, no use standing around. Come pull up a chair. I'm harvesting some spider silk right now. I hope you're okay with spiders."

Ha, Peter thought, If he only he knew.

The first week that Peter and (M/N) worked together past smoothly. Peter was mostly tasked with feeding the spiders and organizational work, but he couldn't complain. (M/N) usually worked in silence, but he would ask him the occasional question about his personal life to pass time. Where do you live? What do you like to do? Do you have a girlfriend? Eventually, (M/N) began giving Peter more and more responsibility.

"Peter, come over here," (M/N) commanded. He was stationed on the middle desk as per usual. He held a strange square of some kind of fiber. "This," he motioned to the fiber in his hand, "is our first successful cloth of spider silk fiber. Here, touch it."

Peter accepted the cloth. "Woah! This is surprisingly soft."

(M/N) gazed at Peter, his eyes slightly lidded. He had bags under his eyes, but that was nothing new. Peter looked back to (M/N) and they made eye contact. Peter couldn't read what laid behind the man's eyes, but it seemed... soft. After a few moments, (M/N) offered a half-grin and said, "We make a great team."

Eventually, Peter and (M/N) created a routine. On the days when (M/N) didn't work, Peter would come in and feed his spiders. They were golden silk orb-weavers, all of which (M/N) had named.

"You better be extra nice to this one," he had said on Peter's first day. He was pointing to a particularly large black and yellow spider in a terrarium.  "Her name is Eight Ball and she is my favorite." He pointed to a terrarium next to it. "This is Ocho and Yossi," and the next terrarium, "the Addams' family," and the next, "Wanda and Cosmo," and the next, "and these are the egg sacks I have. They haven't hatched so I haven't named them. I am taking name suggestions, if you were wondering."

But on this particular day, Peter's third week of spider duty, Eight Ball was unnervingly still. (M/N) had given Peter his phone number "for emergencies and funny pictures," as he explained it. "Don't call unless someone is dying," (M/N) had added as well. Peter presumed it was a joke, but... Eight Ball seemed off, and Peter didn't want to risk (M/N)'s wrath to find a dead spider. And so, he pulled out his phone and typed in his phone number: xxx-xxx-xxxx.

It rang once, then twice, then thrice, and went to voicemail. Oh no. Peter just hung up.

A moment later, Peter's phone rang. (M/N) was listed as the caller. Oh thank God.

"Hello?" Peter asked.

"Hey, what's up? Why'd you call?"

"Uh, I didn't want to bother you, but, uh, one of the spiders is, uh, looking a little, uh... sick."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...(M/N)?"

"Did you forget to feed them?" (M/N) accused. His voice sounded calm yet angry.

"What?" Peter felt panic. "No, of course I fed them, I--"

"Ahh, I'm just kidding." Laughter came from the other end of the phone. "I'll be there in a few minutes. Spider's don't last forever, y'know? I hope you brought clothes for the funeral."

True to his word, (M/N) arrived a few minutes later.

"Sorry I'm late," he said as he walked into the lab. He was dressed in an all black suit. In one hand, he held a coffee, and in his other hand he held a bouquet of roses. "I, uhh, had some... plans... but they fell through."

Peter just stared at (M/N). "What's with the suit?"

"Wow, a man can't even dress up for a funeral without being questioned."

"Oh, I, uh, didn't mean it like that."

(M/N) didn't acknowledge him. "I had a date, but they, uh, they didn't show up. Now I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go."

"I'm sorry."

"Ah, it's whatever. I didn't really like him anyways." Him, Peter noted. "Besides, what's a better day to get dumped than the death of a loved one?" (M/N) joked. He offered Peter a half-grin. "Now, which one of my dear babies is it?"

As (M/N) walked over to Peter by the terrariums, Peter pointed towards Eight Ball's cage. (M/N) squatted down and gestured for Peter to come next to him. "Hmm..." (M/N) leaned to the right, then to the left, then back to the right. His shoulder grazed against Peter's. "She's probably fine. A little death never hurt no one."

Peter offered a light chuckle then looked over to (M/N). He's kind of pretty. Maybe it's the suit. He returned his gaze to Eight Ball.

"So don't worry, you didn't kill her, but she is dead," (M/N) rambled on. He stood up, saying something about the short lifespan of spiders. "I loved her, but really, man, don't worry about it. You've been doing really well these last few weeks. Spiders are bound to die, just like us one day. It was her time. Those eggs are bound to hatch soon. Then I can have Eight Ball the Second. But that's all tomorrow's problem." (M/N) paused for a moment. Peter looked up at him then stood. "Today's problem, uh, if you're up to it..."

"Yeah...?" Peter inquired.

"Uh, well," (M/N) blushed, "if you're up to it, I'm all dressed up with no where to go, and if I had to guess, your boss--that's me, by the way--wouldn't mind giving you the rest of the day off... I mean, after this incredibly  traumatic death of a loved one, our dearest Eight Ball, a day off is the least I could do..." (M/N) took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is that... do you want to go out and get some food? Uh, today?"

Peter didn't fight the rosiness from spreading on his cheek. He offered a soft smile. "Sure, I'd love to."

#peter parker x male reader #spiderman x male reader #x male reader

[carcarcraziiv2]

Hi! Oh, it's so good that I came across your blog! I would like to make a request. Kayn & Younger Sister!Reader. And the situation is like this. Reader is a teenager of sixteen and she has already graduated from high school. She's enrolled in college, but she'll have to move into a dorm. She begins to worry wildly, because she is afraid that she will not be accepted by completely new people for her, and also that she will be lonely and bored because Kayn is not around. You can even add scenes where Reader already lives in a dorm and communicates with Kayn via video link (for Kayn, this is a means to make sure that his sister is okay). Thank you very much!

Yay! I'm glad you came across my blog too!

I love this idea. I feel like Kayn would be an exceptional big brother 🥹. Lowkey winging it cuz I am an oooonly child hehe.

Here we go! I hope you enjoy!

P.S. Sorry it's kind of short, but I hope you like it anyway!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The days just keep getting more stressful.

At least that's what you thought- you hadn't even began packing for your move in date to the university dorms. At only sixteen you were going to be the youngest one in the sorority, and you weren't sure how the other girls were going to react to you.

As you walked into your room with a few empty boxes in hand, you sighed at the mess on the floor. You had been so busy with celebrating your graduation from high school and your scholarship that you hadn't had time to do anything- much less clean.

You were grateful that your big brother was home for the holidays, as he was helping a lot with the upkeep of the house while your parents were constantly off working.

Feeling defeated, you let yourself crumple to the floor, landing hard on your knees which only made you feel more frustrated. You tossed the boxes blindly, causing them to crash into a few items on your bookshelf- of course it did.

Reaching up to cover your eyes, you let out a pathetic sob before completely falling into belligerence. You were a heaving, snotty mess on the floor with no hope as to how to ease the anxiety coursing through your veins.

What if the girls don't like me?

What if the professors think I'm too young to be in college?

What about Kayn? Will he miss me? Will we even get to hangout anymore?

You trembled at the thought of not being able to see your brother. He was your rock, especially in tough situations. Even now, he was so busy with his band all of the time you hardly got to see him. With you going to college, you were certain there was no hope at all.

Soft footsteps patting towards you caused you to jerk your head up and quickly wipe away your tears and running nose.

"Oh, hey Kayn. I had something in my eye," you blurt out, smiling slightly as you quickly avert your gaze from his prying one. He leaned down in a squat to your level, grabbing your chin with his fingers and forcing you to look at him.

"What's wrong? Do I need to kick someone's ass?" He says, studying your face. You sniffle and shake your head slightly in response, trying really hard not to cry again. "Then what's wrong, kid?"

"I- I'm just really worried about going to school. What if people don't like me? What if I fail or what if the professors don't think I am good enough?"

"What?! You? Not enough?! And there is literally no way that people aren't going to like you. Either way, I'm always one call away from coming to back you up. You know that, right?" Kayn smiles at you kindly, standing and reaching his hand out for you to take to stand.

"Thanks, Kayn. Love you."

"Love you too sis."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Three Weeks Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hi, I'm Y/N," You sheepishly reach out your hand toward your new dorm mate while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Hi! I'm Sarah. It's great to meet you! I am so excited to be your roommate!" Sarah, the short red headed girl in front of you, grabs your hand and pulls you in for a hug. "I think we are going to have a lot of fun together. Come in, let's compare classes!"

The first week was a breeze, meeting a lot of new people and luckily finding your professors eager to have a younger student in their midst.

This particular day was a Friday, and during your last class your roommate texted you.

Hey, Y/N! Come to the rec center after class, I wanna show you something!

You raised your brow in confusion, texting her back hesitantly.

Should I be worried?

Hahaha, of course not! See you theeeere!

The rest of the class was hard to focus on, as your thoughts kept drifting back to whatever your roommate could possibly be doing. She has been very nice to you since the beginning, but you couldn't help but to worry that she was doing something shady.

After class you quickly dropped your books off at your room and headed to the rec hall. It wasn't too far, about a fifteen-minute walk from the building you lived in.

The door to the hall was closed, which was unusual especially for a Friday. You quickly looked at your phone to make sure this is in fact the place that she said to go to, and after confirming you reached forward and slowly pushed open the door.

You would hit with a sudden burst of light, then a loud booming sound. You flinched, throwing your hands in front of your face.

"What the..." You started but were quickly interrupted by a group of shouting people.

"SUPRISEEEE!"

You jumped back, staring at the crowd in front of you while trying to make sense of it all.

Before you the tables were all decorated, multicolor balloons drifting from their tops. Above it all, ribbons hung from the ceiling, a big white banner in the center reading "Congratulations Y/N!".

Amidst it all you saw Kayn, his band, your mom and dad, and your roommate Sarah.

Your burst into tears.

In the short time you had been in college, you hadn't had any time to think about how much you truly missed all of them. Kayn, especially, as you hadn't had time to even consider grabbing your phone and calling them.

"Hey, hey now," You hear Kayn's voice beside you, a gentle hand rubbing your back. "Surprised?"

You nodded and lifted your head, wiping away your tears as you gripped him in a tight hug. "What the hell are you guys doing here?"

"Well, we realized we never really gave you an 'officially started college' party and thought we should probably do that. Plus, I missed my little sister!" He smiled, pulling away and dragging you towards everyone else.

Smiling, you enjoyed your evening, grateful for the best brother in the world. He always reminded you that everything was going to be okay, and he was always right.

#Heartsteel x sister reader #Heartsteel Kayn #Heartsteel x reader #Heartsteel Kayn x Reader

[birdofdawning]

Pumpkins

Myka Bering and the bank own a house. This is important to the story. It is a small house, but it has a front porch that looks out over a quiet street, and French windows that open onto a small back lawn with an apricot tree in the middle. The house is one-hundred and thirty years old, and in a much better condition now than when Myka Bering had first bought it. Then it was sad and unsightly, with paint peeling off its weatherboards and a tin roof that banged in the wind. When you flicked on the light switch it made noises and when you turned the tap on worrisome things happened. But Myka read renovation books and went to night-classes. She stripped and sanded and repainted the house, replacing its rotting weatherboards. She pulled up the old carpet and polished the floorboards underneath. She hung wallpaper, unjammed windows, replaced panes of glass, and even repaired the plumbing herself. But she got an electrician in to rewire the house; and, though she nailed down the loose pieces of her rusty iron roof herself, she began saving up for a new roof. Now the house is trim and tidy and even smart, in a modest way.

The house is in an old neighbourhood that is currently unfashionable. It still has short, narrow streets lined with telephone poles, which cars are slow to navigate, and a small church or a corner store every few blocks. There are orange trees in some people’s yards and old rusted vehicles in others, each yard separated by a completely different style of fence, or a scraggly hedge, or nothing at all, just a strip of grass. Myka Bering says that that one day, when house prices rise and the area becomes desirable, she will be able to sell her house for considerably more than she paid for it. But after she had built and filled an enormous bookshelf that took up the entire internal wall, spanning from the front windows of the lounge to the end of the small dining room, people had decided that she was probably going to stay.

In the evenings, after she has cleaned her small kitchen, Myka Bering might sit down in an armchair beneath the great bookshelf and read. On Friday and Saturday nights she has a glass of wine and puts cello concertos on the stereo; and if it is warm she will open the French windows in the kitchen and enjoy the scent of orange blossom drifting through the house. Sometimes her friend Abigail will come over and drink wine with her and try and talk her into going out.

“It’s been four years,” Abigail will say, “time to get back on that horse, kid. They’re not all secretly married.”

And Myka will roll her eyes and say “I am perfectly content staying at home.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Abigail will say, “Christ, Mykes. I bet I’m the first person you’ve talked to in days.”

“Not true!” Myka will say, triumphant, “I had an exciting conversation with Mrs Kim about the tinned tomatoes she had on sale yesterday! And anyway,” she will add as Abigail rolled her eyes, “I like living quietly by myself. I count myself lucky to be able to.”

“I’m just jealous,” admits Abigail one evening, “Every week I have to explain to my mother why Josh and I aren’t breeding, and hear statistics on the dwindling fertility rate in women our age.”

“Well, she has to tell you these things because you didn’t become a real doctor.”

“Real doctor my ass,” Abigail mutters, and takes a big sip of wine.

“Kids are nice,” says Myka, who is an aunt. “And other people’s kids, who I can leave with their parents at the end of the day, are the nicest of all.”

And Abigail looks about at the tasteful ornaments and unmarked lounge suite and kilim carpet and finds it hard to imagine children trampling into this oasis of calm.

Myka Bering has done well for herself. When she first started living in the house she would get up at five and rush about, taking breakfast with her to eat as she drove to work in the same old Nissan Bluebird that she had had since college. But now she gets up at seven, turns the radio onto NPR, and leaves it playing as she makes herself a cup of coffee and sits down at her computer in the small office she has set up in the back bedroom. She has replaced her old car with one that she doesn’t have to keep having repaired, and she wears nicer suits on the days when she goes into the city. And after a few years she did indeed hire men to come in and replace the old roof, so that she didn’t have to keep climbing up with her hammer every autumn.

But still she continues to live quietly, sticking to her routine. Perhaps she’s more likely to work late into the evenings instead of sitting in her chair and reading. The walls of the back bedroom-office have slowly accumulated pinned maps and diagrams and lists, and the spare bed has become a place to keep folders and file boxes. Myka buys an oak bookshelf for the room and fills it with heavy textbooks on city design and transport planning, and from time to time as she works she will push her office chair across to the shelf and consult one. But other than these few things the room is sparse. While the rest of the house is filled with lovely rich colours, the back bedroom-office, where she spends so much of her waking time, remains white and utilitarian. 

“You’ve become a hermit. It’s very you, but it’s not healthy,” her sister tells her on one of her occasional visits. She lives somewhere far away, and when she arrives she has a suitcase and Myka changes the sheets and opens the windows of the second-best bedroom.

“I have a very nice life,” Myka replies.

“You have a very nice house,” rejoins her sister, “It’s not the same thing.”

And then they will quarrel until one of them cries, or stomps out of the room in a temper, or they both become distracted by a pop song from their adolescence.

“Well, if you’re happy I suppose that’s that,” says Abigail with a sigh as she puts her coat on one evening. “Are you happy?”

“Of course I am,” says Myka.

One winter’s day Myka Bering is woken up by a phone call. She has fallen asleep curled around the folders and file boxes on her spare bed, after spending days and nights working on a difficult project. It takes her several tries to get the phone to work.

“H’llo?” she finally mutters into the device.

“Myka! Where are you!? I’m waiting in Arrivals!” says her sister.

“Arrivals?” yawns Myka.

“Arrivals! At the Denver airport! Holy fuck, Myka, have you missed the fucking plane?”

“Wha’?” says Myka sitting up. “No, that’s tomorrow…”

“It IS tomorrow you idiot!” yells her sister. “How could you lose track of the day!? You!? Have you just spent the whole week in that house not speaking to anyone!? Oh my god, you have haven’t you!?”

Myka runs into her bedroom and begins hastily packing a suitcase while her sister continues shouting in a tinny voice that she certainly isn’t going to tell their parents that Myka won’t be making it to Thanksgiving, and that Myka needs to sort her life out.

“My life is fine,” mutters Myka as she grabs her keys and drags her suitcase out to the car.

But perhaps it is time Myka Bering’s life had a little bit of a shake-up. We’ll start small, though. We’ll open a gate.

Myka Bering does not consider herself much of a gardener. This is important too. I suspect the deficit is due more to a lack of interest than a lack of ability, because I believe that Myka can do anything she puts her mind to.

But instead she pays Mr Jackson to keep the strip of front lawn tidy and to mow the grass around the apricot tree every other week. And because she mostly works from home now, when he arrives she will leave the back bedroom-office and help him shift the wooden lawn furniture she keeps under the tree into the driveway, and then back again when he is finished.

The back lawn is perfect. It is flat and even, largely because she had hired a roller in her first year in the house, and had spent several Saturdays onerously rolling the ground flat. In the spring and summer, before Mr Jackson is due to cut it, the grass in the back yard grows almost long, with dandelions and clover flowers everywhere and bees happily wandering about. On sunny evenings Myka Bering sits outside in a lawn chair under the apricot tree, and has her dinner and reads.

Other than the tree — and a small shed tucked up against the back fence — the lawn spreads out to the fence line, unmarred by any hedge or flowerbed. Myka has not grown anything else in the yard in the four years she has lived there, other than some night stock that she planted beside the French windows one year so that the perfume would drift inside the house when she hooked them open in the evenings; but night stock is, of course, an annual, and she didn’t bother replacing it the next year. Myka Bering prefers things neat and tidy and low-maintenance.

Now, decades ago the Alvarado family had lived in the house and had been good friends with the Rojas family in the house next door (that is, until Adriana Rojas ran off to New York with Izzy Alvarado to become Rockettes, thus causing a rupture that was never fully repaired). In the evenings, after supper, the parents would sit together on the front porch of one of the houses and drink beer and talk and listen to the baseball or swing music on the radio, while their children ran up and down the street. And when night fell, and they would call everyone inside and bid each other a good night.

And so, when it came time to replace the old fence between the two properties, Mano Alvarado suggested putting in a gate halfway down, so that the families didn’t always need to walk out onto the street and around every time they wanted to go between the two back yards.

Mano and John Rojas were both builders, and they knew their trade. When they built something, they built it to last for two generations and more. And so the gate still stood there, halfway down the back yard fence, when Myka Bering (and the bank) bought the little house. 

Myka had tried the gate once, when she first moved in, and found its old hinges immovable and its latch stuck fast, all fused solid by rust. And deciding that this was as good as a fence she had left it alone. She had painted it, of course, or at least she had painted her side of it; and now it was a fetching bottle green, to match the lawn and the apricot tree. But, not intending to ever use the gate, she didn’t bother replacing the hinges and broken latch, and rarely thought of it again.

And so one afternoon in April Myka Bering is standing in her kitchen putting together a cheese sandwich. It is past three o’clock so she doesn’t allow herself any more coffee, but a snack is permissible. It is spring, and she has the French windows open, and a movement outside makes her look up.

There is a girl in her back yard.

The girl is standing beyond the apricot tree, intently examining a corner of the lawn.

Myka Bering steps out of the house and walks over the perfectly level grass towards her.

“Hello?” she says cautiously, “Can I help you?”

The girl turns to look at her. She is maybe nine? ten? years old and has long, black hair and dark eyes. She is wearing jeans and an adult’s t-shirt that says ‘A WOMAN’S PLACE IS IN THE REVOLUTION’.

“Do you rent?” she asks Myka.

“What?” says Myka.

“Do you rent this house?” says the girl, and then, perhaps supposing that Myka may not be familiar with the concept of renting, she adds: “Does somebody else own your house and you pay them money each week in order to live in it?” She has a vaguely mid-Atlantic accent.

“Oh. No,” says Myka. “I own it. Me and the bank.”

This answer seems to please the girl, though she doesn’t smile. She turns fully around now, so that she faces Myka and holds up an envelope. “Then can I—” she stops, frowns, takes a breath, and starts again “—may I plant pumpkins in your garden?”

Myka blinks. “Well, no. I don’t have a garden… Sorry, who are you? And, uh, where did you come from?”

The girl points with the hand not holding the envelope. The green gate is now ajar.

“How on earth did you manage to open that?” Myka asks. “I was sure it was rusted shut. You live next door? I thought the Menzies were there?”

The girl shrugs. “I don’t know who they are,” she says, “I live there now, with mamma.” She gives an Old World pronunciation to the last word. “Which means we’re neighbours. So can I — may I — plant pumpkins in your garden?”

Myka Bering finds herself looking about for another adult to take over, but her back yard stubbornly persists in containing only the two of them. “Hey, I really don’t know if you should be talking to strangers without your, uh, mamma,” she tries, “You don’t know anything about me. I could be a bad guy.”

“Mamma says it’s perfectly reasonable to speak to people one doesn’t know because otherwise one will never find friends or make one’s way in the world.” announces the girl, “And also that statistically I am in far more danger from family members than strangers,”

“Oh,” says Myka.

The girl nods. “I reminded her that she was my only family member. She said that I would do well to keep that fact in mind.”

Myka looks back at the green gate in the wall.

“So. Mrs Pérez gave everyone in the class pumpkin seeds today, and I want to plant my ones here, please.” The girl, it seems, will not be side-tracked by trivialities like stranger-danger. “She told us that they would be ready by Halloween, and we could make jack o’lanterns.”

“But why can’t you plant them in your back yard?” asks Myka.

With tremendous patience the girl explains. “Because we rent. And Mamma says I can’t dig up the lawn because the landlord mows the lawn himself and he will see. But you don’t rent, and you don’t have anything else growing here, only grass. So can I plant my seeds here?”

Myka Bering tries to think of a reason why the girl couldn’t plant pumpkin seeds in her back yard and fails.

“I… suppose you could,” she says. “Where would you plant them?”

The girl points at the corner she was inspecting. “I thought the pumpkins would be out of the way there.”

Myka examines the spot. It seems as adequate to the purpose as any other.

“Alright,” she says, tentatively, reluctantly. “But right at the edge, okay? I don’t want too much of my lawn dug up.”

The girl nods her agreement. “Thank-you,” she adds, very properly.

“Uh, I think pumpkins need a lot of water. Maybe? You’ll have to look it up. So you’ll have to water them regularly. I’m not going to,” says Myka, trying to regain ground she suspects she has never really had since this conversation began.

“Of course,” says the girl. “I have a watering can.”

“Well then,” says Myka, taking a step towards the garden shed, “Um, do you want a spade or…?”

“I have a trowel,” says the girl. “I only want to make small holes and drop each seed in. You don’t want your lawn dug up,” she reminds Myka.

“No,” says Myka. “I don’t. Well, uh. Okay. G’bye, then.”

“Good-bye,” says the girl, who is already turning towards the green gate in the fence, presumably to fetch her trowel.

Myka watches her disappear and then looks about the back yard. Everything appears quite normal, but she feels a faint apprehension of an approaching change... still beyond the horizon, but inexorably on its way, like the pressure drop before a thunderstorm. After a moment she shakes her head and goes back inside and finishes making her sandwich.

As she carries on with her work that afternoon, Myka Bering occasionally looks out through the window of the back bedroom-office and watches the girl at the end of the yard. The apricot tree obscures much of her activity, but she spends a lot of time carefully digging. And later she has a metal watering can which she judiciously applies to certain spots about her.

That evening Myka goes out to look over the girl’s labours. There, cut into the grass that ran along the fence line, are twelve black holes, each about the diameter of a coffee-cup. Myka looks back at the green gate. It is now shut. Still feeling a little uneasy Myka Bering walks back inside and begins to prepare her dinner.

#myka bering #helena g wells #christina wells #abigail cho #Pumpkins Story #bering and wells #bering & wells

[rvnwtch]

ൠ - random headcanon

♒ - cooking/food headcanon

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

☾ - sleep headcanon

Hand the zenni HCs over. 🫴

I AM SO SORRY ITS TAKEN ME SO LONG!!! I just wanted to get this right and then completely forgot about it. Hopefully you’re still interested 🥹

Random headcanon - Zenoine’s favorite activity is reading. At home she had bookshelves in her bedroom that covered an entire wall from floor to ceiling- and she had a BIG room. At the Castle she has no shelves at least not for a while. So she keeps her books stacked next to her bed on the nightstand. She never once complained about this. One day though after a particularly long and drawn out day with Gwendis, she comes home to her room only to find four large bookshelves pushed together, from floor to ceiling with her few books sat right in the middle. Fennorian and Kallin had put in new ones for her while she was away. 

Cooking/food headcanon: Zenni grew up in a very rich household and never had to make any of her own meals. Then in college someone made all of the food there too. At Ravenwatch castle… no one else eats food. Except for Kallin, who Zenni doesn’t speak to often and is deeply intimidated by at first. But he always makes enough food for the both of them. It makes Zenoine feel a level of guilt she didn’t know was possible. It was only the two of them who ate food. So she learns how to cook from Kallin. She’s bad at it, so Kallin does all of the complicated things. But once a day, she sits down in the kitchen and helps Kallin peel or chop vegetables. Helps him keep an eye on the pot over the fire and calls him over panicking when it starts to bubble too high. She might not be good at it, but she isn’t as useless as she once was made to feel. 

Quirks/hobbies headcanon - for a quirk I decided to include that when Zenni is sitting, she keeps her hands folded politely on her lap, and her back straight to appear more tall and confident. It was a habit her mother forced into her when she was young. As for hobbies I already mentioned above that she loves to read. It’s something I envision a lot of my OCs doing bc I genuinely can’t imagine a world without books in it so all of my OCs tend to love books or stories in some way. I’m still deciding what her favorite genre would be. Not classics though, because classics were something her mother made her read when she turned sixteen and begged for more books. Everything else was either “useless” “unlady like” or “childish.” Classics only from then on out. Unless Fennorian smuggled her something. Her bookshelf was big enough to hide a few new additions from time to time.

Angry/violent headcanon - Zenoine never argued with Fennorian… at least not loudly. She might purse her lips or have to take a deep breath when they disagree on something but they’ve always had healthy communication. He’d never really done anything ANGER worthy…. Until he decided to disappear. When he first disappeared, Zenoine was distraught, she thought he’d died- as it would turn out she wasn’t exactly wrong. She spent a lot of time on her own with her grief after that. And one day she decided she was angry at him. Angry that he just up and left her here all alone. Angry that he got to escape and she was stuck at home in Summerset. And then her father brought up marriages. And she turned her anger at Fennorian’s disappearance toward her father. It made her vile. (By Zenoine’s standards anyway. She was still very obedient.) She glared at her parents at dinner. She argued with her father loudly. No matter how much her mother dragged her around by the arm, no matter the threats her father yelled- even when he locked her in her room for three days straight with nothing to eat because she burst into tears in front of a suitor she was meeting for the first time (because he wasn’t Fennorian). And then her anger went away. It was replaced with the same despair she had grown comfortable with. Until she struck a deal with her father. (Which you have to wait to see more of!!!!!) 

Sleep headcanon - Zenni takes up the entire bed when she sleeps. Arms and legs out wide, whether she’s on her front or back her face is smooshed into her pillows. Sometimes, when Fennorian and Zenni were still stuck on the isles, she’d fall asleep with her head on Fennorian’s shoulder and he would stay still for as long as she was out. At Ravenwatch Castle, it’s the first time they had the chance to actually even SHARE a bed. So the first time they fall asleep together, she is awake all night, back rigid, taking up as little space as possible. Over time though this goes away and she practically lays on top of Fennorian when she starts to get comfortable and spread out over the mattress again. Fennorian sometimes bats her away in his sleep but he usually just snuggles up to her more. 

#my oc zenoine #eso headcanons #fennorian is in this a little bit

[ireallylovepuppies101]

Cat-Dad AU 4

Part 4!!!

Years go by. The boys grow up pretty happy. They become older cousins when Nora has Inky and Winky, and a few years later Oswald and Ortensia announce that they’re going to be parents. Everyone would be thrilled for them, and also blown away over how they have 420 baby bunnies. Safe to say Felix returns the favor of the two of them babysitting so often by helping them raise the bunnies with the boys.

Bendy and Boris get dubbed Big Brothers by the bunny kids, and they absolutely love all of them with all their hearts. They even know all the bunny kids by name and can tell them apart with how much they and Felix spend time with them.

As they grew up Bendy and Boris also went on a few adventures with Felix. Albeit the safer ones, because Felix isn’t about to take them on a trip he knows will leave them traumatized. This results in Bendy and Boris growing up learning a lot of different languages, and even having some friends they write to when they’re home.

Things go pretty okay for a while, but then they get, complicated, when Bendy’s roughly 16.

Ortensia gets sick. She tries to hide it from the kids to avoid scaring them, but Bendy at one point was spending time with her when she had a rather painful looking coughing fit and coughed out a black substance into her handkerchief, which alarmed Bendy quite a bit as he called out for Oswald and his Dad for help.

The circus crew make plans to leave and look into finding a cure for Ortensia when doctors have no idea how to help. Before leaving, Ortensia pulls Felix aside to talk to him privately. “You’re an amazing friend Felix, you’ve done so much for my family, and we grew to love you and your family as well. Oswald and I care so much about you… and I know how much you’ve held back for us because you care for us as well.”

Felix’s stomach drops, knowing what Ortensia is implying. He’d try apologizing to her but she stops him. “I don’t blame you Felix, Oswald is an amazing man. What matters is that you value our friendship and happiness more than your own feelings… Which is why I need you to promise me, that you make sure Oswald is as happy as he can be, and to watch over our family for me if things don’t go as we hope.”

Speechless as he processes what Ortensia is asking of him, Felix can’t help himself as he pulls Ortensia into a tight hug. “I promise, as long as you promise to do your best to come back to us.”

As they all bid each other goodbye, Boris asks Ortensia if she’ll be okay. The cat woman simply gives both Boris and Bendy forehead kisses and hugs both of them, saying that everything will be okay. Bendy notices she didn’t specifically say SHE’LL be okay, but doesn’t comment on it for Boris’ sake as the two hug their mother figure goodbye.

During the time the Circus crew are gone, Wilson leaves for work. Promising the boys and Felix he’d call often to tell them about what he’s been up to and catch up with all of them.

Bendy and Boris at the time fall into a bit of a routine. While their dad works, Bendy and Boris finish their home school work for the day, hang out around town or at the college (due to Wilson working there Bendy and Boris get special access, or sometimes work odd jobs helping other teachers there) and then go home to help Felix prepare dinner then spend family time together before bed. Though a certain girl shakes up that routine.

Holly May learns about Bendy and Boris coming to the college she’s attending to either work or spend time at the library, and knows all too well how they’re the sons of one of her favorite authors. So, one day, she tries to introduce herself to them in hopes of sparking a friendship.

It works, sorta. She was a bit overly bold with her introduction and caught Bendy and Boris so by surprise that she startled the two of them quite a bit, made them bump into the bookshelf they were checking out, and Bendy had to scramble to stop the bookshelves from toppling over like dominos. Still resulted in books falling all over the floor when Bendy caught the tipping shelf, and the librarian kicking them out. Safe to say Bendy didn’t like Holly at first thinking she was just trying to get something out of them because their dad is famous, though thankfully Boris would be more willing to accept her apology for the situation and ask her if she wants to come with them to get lunch.

They all over time become close enough where Holly gets invited to their house for dinner and meets Felix in person, Felix thinks Holly is a very sweet girl and is glad his boys made friends with her. Though he finds himself parenting her a bit when he sometimes supervises her and his boys studying and testing runes, patching her up when those tests get unexpectedly dangerous, and occasionally dropping off a bagged lunch for her when he swings by the college because he knows he would have forgotten to eat if he didn’t have baby/toddler Bendy around who would make it loud and clear that it was time to eat.

Her coming over for dinner would start becoming a regular thing, So Holly would be there when Bendy opens the door and sees his Dad on the phone. He’d be ready to greet him, until he gets a good look at his dad’s face.

Horror, and grief as tears stain the fur on Felix’s face.

When he notices the boys and Holly staring at him in concern, Felix quickly tells the person over the phone that he has to go, and wishes them a safe trip home before hanging up and turning to his kids.

With a heavy heart, he tells Bendy and Boris Mickey and the others are coming back, and that Ortensia is gone.

Boris would be devastated. Crying his heart out as Felix holds him tightly and tries to comfort his youngest son. Bendy would look like he’s in shock, trying his best to comfort Boris as well, while Holly keeps a hand firmly placed on his shoulder and rubs Boris’ back as he cries. Clearly no one would be in the mood to cook that night, so Holly offers to go pick up some dinner while the boys stay with their dad. Bendy insists on going with her since it’s getting dark out. Though worried about his oldest son, Felix lets him go and tells the two of them to be careful and hurry back.

The walk would be tense, and quiet. Holly would be trying to think of what to say, but she didn’t know Ortensia like the boys and Felix did. She’d keep trying to think of what she would have wanted to hear when her father passed, but before she can think of anything, seemingly out of nowhere, with his eyes glowing red, Bendy straight up punches a brick wall hard enough to leave a mark, and to cut up/bruise his fist on the rough material.

Holly would clearly see the tears wanting to spill from Bendy’s eyes, so instead of saying something, Holly stays quiet as she pulls Bendy into a tight hug. It doesn’t take long for her to feel her shirt getting wet with tears as Bendy trembles and hugs her back while muttering swear words through his muffled sobs.

When they get back with the food Felix doesn’t seem all that surprised to see Bendy’s bloody fist wrapped up in a handkerchief, instead he asks Holly to stay with Boris as he takes Bendy to the bathroom to wrap up his wound properly, and to comfort him in private.

And on that oh so happy note that totally didn’t make me cry while writing it, it’s time for the funfacts!

-One of the people Bendy and Boris are penpals with is a nice girl in china named Mulan. She and her family let them and their Dad stay at their home during their time in their country. She taught them how to play games she grew up with, how to make some of her favorite foods, taught them things about her culture, etc. The three of them had fun together and stayed in touch for many years.

-The reason the boys are homeschooled is because attending school didn’t really go well for Bendy. When he was younger Felix showed up because he forgot Bendy’s lunch at home, but found his son sitting in the corner during class reading while all the other kids were together. When he asked Bendy why he was sitting alone, Bendy responded “My Teacher says I’m not allowed to talk to the other kids.” Took every bit of willpower in Felix to put on a smile for Bendy to tell him to wait right there as he went to talk to the teacher and principal. Bendy isn’t at all phased as he hears a lot of commotion from his Dad’s “talk” in the hallway (he’s dealt with louder and crazier stuff thanks to growing up around a few zany family members). So instead of putting Bendy through that again, Felix decides to homeschool his sons. Frankly they learn more due to growing up around a college anyways.

-Holly appreciates Felix looking out for her. Heck he even reminds her of her own dad, which at one point she’d tell him that. Felix in return smiles and tells her that he bets her father would be really proud of the woman she’s becoming. That results in Holly tearing up and hugging Felix tightly as Felix hugs her back.

-Bendy and Boris’ outfits would be a bit different in this AU. Not sure how different yet, but I do imagine Boris wearing a bandana that Ortenisa made out of an old scarf she doesn’t wear anymore, and Bendy having a vest that used to be an old jacket of his Dad’s. It was made into a vest due to one of Felix’s adventures resulting in one or both of the sleeves getting ripped off.

-After Ortensia passed Bendy made pins that looked like her favorite flower in her memory. Boris wears his on the bandana Ortensia made for him, Felix keeps his safely inside Magic Bag so he doesn’t lose it due to his adventures, and Bendy wears his on the inside of his vest. Staring at it sometimes when he thinks about her.

#bendy and the ink machine #bendy and boris in the inky mystery #batim #babitim #quest bendy #quest boris #holly may #quest felix #oswald the lucky rabbit #disney #Cat-Dad AU #my stuff #au

[summersnow82]

Somethin' Bad - Part 15

Author's Note: Hello, my lovelies! I hope you're having a relaxing, slow Thanksgiving Break! Thanks for hanging in here with me.

A big thank you to Tumbler user @jiahn for bringing it to my attention Travis Hackett was originally intended to be a lover of romance novels. I'm totally going to utilize that.

TW: Y'all, I had a hard time writing Constance, especially her interactions with Travis this go. I don't know if it's because I'm a mom, too, or what, but it was a struggle. Limited language, but still may be hard to read for some folks

Part 15

Annabelle had meant what she’d said to Travis: she did have a pot roast ready to go in the oven, and laundry to finish. After all, she was working with a severely limited supply of clothing, and as much fun as raiding Travis’ wardrobe – and his reaction – was she couldn’t quite bring herself to don his briefs. Once the roast was in the oven (she missed cooking!) and the laundry was running (thank God for modern conveniences!) she headed back to his bedroom.

Travis’ headboard was the kind with a built in bookshelf, and he’d utilized every bit of space. More Louis L’Amour coupled with Agatha Christie’s Hercules Poirot novels; Elmore Leonard and a few old Perry Mason paperbacks; a compilation of Flannery O’Conner’s short stories and a Dean Koontz novel that looked untouched. Annabelle took each book out carefully, mindful of the order they’d come in, and unearthed the books behind the ones Travis had on display. He’d pressed them flat against the back of the shelf instead of spine out like the books she’d just removed, as if he were intentionally hiding them from the casual glance.

Again, cautious of the order they were stored in, Annabelle removed them, casting a careful eye to the bedroom door. If Travis caught her now she was sure he’d be irate at best, and furious at worst. He’d hidden these books for a reason, and after glancing at a few of the covers she began to develop a theory as to why.

Beautiful women in billowing dresses with slits up the side, and barely covered, heaving bosoms reclined in the arms of scantily clad, well built men. Annabelle had seen more than her fair share of bodice ripper romances on her college roommate’s desk, but she’d never seen a man reading one. Annabelle grinned at the thought of her surly, brusque sheriff curling up to read about beautiful men and women working through built-up sexual tension, warring personalities, and eventual deep, passionate, forever love.

Travis has a soft side, she thought almost giddily, returning to the other books she’d unearthed. The others had more subdued covers: a handsome cowboy, and a lovely blonde in a high-neck lace dress with her hair piled high; a dark haired World War Two nurse in the arms of a striking sailor; a cute, nerdy guy casting a longing glance at a sexy red-head. Each book was well worn, and upon flipping through each, she noticed someone had dog-eared several pages she assumed were favorite parts; some were red hot, leaving her feeling flushed, while others were tender and sweet.

It was incredibly endearing.

Her investigation led her to several conclusions about her stoic sheriff: He was a covert romantic, he seemed to prefer the forced proximity/ arranged marriage tropes the most, and the historical romances set on the frontier and during World War Two seemed to be his favorite. From what she could gather, most of the heroes were about brooding, silent types who fell for feisty, warm women who often were in need of rescuing – that one hit a bit too close to home, but she tucked that thought away for later. Her last, perhaps most important revelation however, was Travis felt the need to hide these books.

These clearly well-loved, well-read books she imagined brought him great comfort and joy were either an embarrassment to him, or a source of shame. She was still pondering this when a loud banging came from the front door, startling her out of her reverie. Quickly and efficiently, Annabelle slid each book back in the exact spot she’d found it while the pounding on the door grew in intensity.

In her experience, there were two types of people who wailed on a door like this: someone in great fear with desperate need, or someone with ill intent. Annabelle was weighing her options when a woman’s shriek came from the opposite side of the door, and while her words were slightly muffled, her intentions became alarmingly clear. Annabelle’s skin goose-pimpled, and the hair on her arms raised as she considered her options: hide, arm herself with whatever she could find, or swing the door open and confront this threat head on. Annabelle, while impulsive, wasn’t a fool – there was no way she was going to that door unarmed.

“I know you’re in there, you little whore! Open up, or I swear I’ll break this door down.”

Annabelle didn’t know many people in North Kill, but from what she did know she’d hazard a guess Travis’ mama, Sean’s ex-judge, jury, and jailer, was the lunatic on the other side of the door. This knowledge and the woman’s screaming threat caused an odd calm to settle over Annabelle. It was the kind of calm someone gets when they’ve encountered enough aggression, hostility, and violence in their lifetime such things become disturbingly normal. Annabelle had faced her fair share of monsters, both human and supernatural, and the shrieking woman on the other side of the door ranked as more of a nuisance than an actual threat now that Annabelle’s fight response was kicking in. A wicked half grin slid over her features as she braced herself for the coming battle.

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

Normally, when a prisoner showered in the North Kill station an officer stood vigilante while maintaining a respectful distance for optimum privacy and security. Travis’ standards had relaxed dramatically with his current “prisoner.” Half the time Sean seemed oblivious to his presence, rubbing a hand over his face, and staring off into space with a pensive expression; the rest of the time he was remarkably respectful and genuinely friendly. He’d ask Travis about his tastes in food, music, and literature with honest curiosity, and could hold a thoughtful, meaningful conversation while making Travis feel important and valued.

It was the weirdest freaking thing Travis had ever experienced, and he hunted werewolves.

Sean was currently enthralled in a description of time travel, alternating theories, his current hypothesis, and the data he’d collected thus far with all of his “down time,” as he called it. Travis was sitting on a bench, head in his hands, bored out of his mind; Annabelle was right, it did give him a headache.

So when his cell phone went off he had to stifle every urge inside him to shout hallelujah for an excuse to step out of the room. “Yes, Mrs. Thatcher? Everything all right?” Emily Thatcher was his elderly neighbor, a widow with three grown children spread out over the country, a bonafide gossip, and the winner of the church pound cake competition every year since 1972. A phone call from her wasn’t unusual, but the timbre her voice currently held sure was.

“Oh, honey, you need to come home right now. Your mother - .” He didn’t hear anything else after that, and he didn’t need to.

Your mother.

Travis felt chilled and nauseous imagining his mother within twenty feet of Annabelle. His Annabelle. His. She’ll kill her, he thought in a panic, breaking into a run for his cruiser. She’ll kill her the way she killed… he pushed the thought from his head. He had to focus and get home; he could recount his mother’s sins another time, but right now keeping Annabelle safe was all that mattered.

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

It was worse than he’d anticipated when Travis got home. His father’s old pickup was parked in his front lawn – his lawn, not his driveway – and his mother was banging on the front door so hard he was surprised it hadn’t caved in. His father and Bobby stood off to the side like glorified lackeys, and if they hadn’t been men he deeply loved and respected he would’ve hated them for just fueling his mother’s insanity.

“Open up, you little bitch, or I swear I’ll burn this shack to the ground.”

Travis felt another piece of him break because he knew his mother meant it – she would burn his house down – hell, she’d burn the whole town down if it meant keeping him to herself. Because “family was the most important thing in the world.”

It was suffocating, exhausting, and spirit-breaking.

Travis stepped out of his car to face his raging mother when the front door swung wide open. Annabelle’s eyes narrowed as she levied the double barrel shotgun at the smaller woman. “I don’t know who you are, lady, but take your crazy back where you came from before I give the lawn a paint job.”

Travis froze. There was no hesitation or fear in Annabelle’s demeanor; gone was his feisty songbird, and in her place stood a fierce, take-no-prisoners warrior who would pull the trigger if given a reason.

Maybe, just maybe she’d been telling him the truth about herself all this time.

“You lower that gun, little miss,” his father called out, seemingly unbothered by her threat. “You’re on Hackett property.”

Annabelle didn’t move, and her resolve didn’t break. Instead, a slow, menacing smile slid over her pretty features. Oh, shit.

“Ma,” Travis called, and he was thankful his voice remained steady – the rest of him certainly didn’t feel it. All eyes turned to him, except Annabelle’s – hers stayed right on Constance. His father looked irritated, Bobby looked confused and a bit sad, but his mother looked unhinged. The slew of expletives she began to spit at him were nothing new, but it was the first time she’d christened his home with such colorful language.

“How dare you… we’re toiling away, and you’re living it up with this Twinkie… after all the sacrifices we made for you… ungrateful, good for nothing…”

He’d heard it all before; memorized it line and verse. Travis could recite every ill thought his mother had ever spewed his way so well it was the voice he heard when he closed his eyes at night. He had never been good enough, never would be good enough for her, and his father, for whatever reason, stood there and let her say it.

Like he approved. Like he agreed. Travis couldn’t decide which was worse – her abuse or his silence.

Bobby… well, he couldn’t much fault Bobby. He was the favored child before his accident in Afghanistan; loved by everyone, Bobby was the quarterback in high school with his sights set on playing in college, and then maybe the NFL. He had the talent, the drive, the build, and the support of his family to pursue it, and the encouragement from every doe-eyed teenage girl and aging football enthusiast. Robert Hackett was going to put North Kill on the map with his talent.

Bobby had something else, though: deep admiration and respect for his oldest brother. From the moment he could walk, Bobby was constantly at Travis’ side aching for any attention or affection his hero would offer him. When Travis graduated high school he enlisted in the Army – an outright act of defiance towards his mother. He returned home out of guilt and obligation, joining the police force because it suited his skill set better than anything else North Kill had to offer. He knew his brothers were proud of him, but he had no idea Bobby was rethinking his future plans, viewing Travis’ route as one of honor and self-sacrifice.

Their mother went ballistic when Bobby announced he’d enlisted “just like Travis.” He was going to make a difference “just like Travis.” He’d make them proud “just like Travis.” So when Bobby’s unit was hit with a roadside bomb and Bobby came home forever changed… well, Constance knew exactly where to point her finger and lash her blame.

“Are you listening to me, Travis Hackett? I am speaking to you.”

“More like screaming,” Annabelle said, and their words brought Travis back to the drama unfolding on his front lawn. His mother turned her eyes back to Annabelle, launching into another display of her disapproval.

Travis didn’t have many boundaries with his family – they tended to bulldoze right through them – but he was thankful now he’d never given them a key to his home. He cringed internally at the idea of Constance walking in and catching Annabelle unaware.

Just a few hours ago he’d left her with a tender kiss goodbye, and now she was pointing a gun at his mother. Something about the odd combination made his affection for her grow. His mother spat another vile sentiment his way again, but he didn’t hear it as he moved past the men in his family, his dark eyes set intently on the brunette.

“Are you all right?” He asked softly, sliding a hand around her waist and pressing his cheek to hers so only she could hear him. She made an affirming noise with a slight nod, but the gun remained poised at his mother.

His mother. His mother who was angry and stupid enough she might actually try to wrangle it away from Annabelle if he didn’t resolve this quickly. Constance may have broken his heart more times than he could count, but he didn’t want to see her hurt.

“Lower the gun.” He said, but she didn’t move. He repeated his words again more firmly this time. “Lower the gun.” Still nothing. Travis felt his frustration shift to the stubborn brunette. “Belle,” he said softly, raising a hand to the gun’s barrel, testing Annabelle’s resolve as he pressed down gently.

She tensed at his use of her nickname – he’d never said it before. “If she charges me I’m taking her down,” Annabelle promised. Loud enough for Constance to hear her, as if she was issuing a warning. The older woman had the nerve to smirk in response. The warning suddenly felt like she’d thrown down a gauntlet. Travis sighed. “We will discuss this later, Sheriff,” Annabelle assured him, finally turning her dark eyes his way as the gun barrel lowered.

“I promise.” She hesitated, finally relinquishing her hold on the shotgun, and casting a withering glare in his mother’s direction.

Constance looked like the cat who ate the canary as she grinned up at Annabelle. “Good boy, Travis. Now, get this hussy’s things, and Bobby and Pa will take her to the bus station while we have a nice chat.” Constance’s voice held a victory tune, but Travis wasn’t quite willing to concede. Not yet.

“Ma,” he began.

“Now, Travis. You’ve given your neighbors enough to discuss.” Her voice was saccharine sweet, but her words stung. He’d given?

“An… Alice is staying, Ma,” he said, stumbling to remember Annabelle’s alias. His mother would read it as weakness, which he supposed was better than telling her the truth.

“No, Travis.” Constance shook her head. “You’ve had your fun. Now be a good boy, and,” she cut her eyes to Annabelle, “take out the trash.”

To her credit, Annabelle didn’t seem bothered by Constance’s name calling, but a brow was raised as she cocked her head to the side, eyeing the older woman as if she was studying her for vulnerabilities. Travis closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. This all felt too familiar, too painful. “C’mon, little miss,” Jedediah called from where he stood looking deeply bored. “Travis can send you your things, but we’ve got things to do.”

No one expected Annabelle to laugh, and the whole Hackett clan reeled as if she’d slapped them. “Y’all are a real piece of work, you know that?” She asked, chuckling and shaking her head. “I mean, wow. Just wow. You come here with a whole new level of crazy, order your grown son to send me packing, and expect me to actually get in a car with two men I don’t know? The audacity.” She laughed again.

Jedediah frowned, glaring at Travis as if he’d somehow spoken through Annabelle. “You will get in this car, missy, and you will not speak to my wife like that again.”

Annabelle’s smile dropped. “It will be a cold day in hell before I go anywhere with you,” she declared. “And I will speak to ‘your wife’ however I deem fit after her ludicrous display just now.”

“Wow,” Bobby piped in with genuine disbelief. “She sure knows a lot of words, Travis.” He turned to his dad. “I don’t think she wants to come with us, Pa.”

“No, Bobby, she doesn’t,” Travis said, meeting his brother’s eyes. Even now he still looked at Travis with something akin to awe. He turned back to his mother to see her eyes firmly locked on Annabelle, like a snake planning to strike.

“Now you listen to me, you ugly little slut,” Constance sneered, thrusting a finger in Annabelle’s direction. “You get into that damn truck right now, or my Bobby will drag you by the hair all the way to the state line.”

“Ma, stop it.” It was meant as a warning, but Travis was afraid it sounded like a plea.

Annabelle cocked her head to the side, and pursed her lips like she was considering the offer. “Bobby’ll do it because…,” she trailed off, flashing Constance a grin. “Because you can’t?”

Travis groaned. Bait, set, trap. He saw his mother lunge forward, a primal scream erupting from her throat as she launched herself at the taller brunette. Annabelle’s body tensed, ready to fight, but before she could do anything Travis was in front of her, arms spread as he blocked his mother. The loud crack of Constance’s hand rang out, and he heard Annabelle gasp behind him in surprise as he took the slap intended for her. Neither woman had expected his interference, and for a moment everything was still.

Travis met his mother’s gaze, stars still spinning around his head. He searched her face as she looked back at him, her features devoid of shock or repentance – all she had for him was fury. Cold, hard, bitter fury; it was the same look she’d given him as a child before each beating, and he didn’t have to guess what was coming next.

#ted raimi #somethin bad #travis hackett #time travel #the quarry travis #the quarry fanfic #the quarry #annabelle harris #sean landers #my ocs #sheriff hackett #officer hackett #constance hackett #bobby hackett #jedediah hackett #it's about to get ugly #it gets worse before it gets better #the hacketts #verbal abuse #physical abuse

[pinkbunnystories]

Rock With You *X.M.H*

Teaser

Synopsis : Two old best friends reunite after years in their first year of college, they're lives have changed completely and it was as if they never knew each other. With age and life changing them, their distant bond becomes stronger as they do everything in their power to save each other without even realizing it. In the midst of the drama and tears they realize how much they truly need each other, despite everything trying to keep them apart.

Warnings : homophobia

"Y/n dear i know you're excited but i told you hundreds of times we are not going anywhere until this room is unpacked. I will reschedule if i have too." The girls mother spoke to her and she nodded as she placed her books into the bookshelf.

Her childhood bedroom use to feel so much bigger than it actually was, there was only room for her bed, a twin size, her bedside desk and shelf. She was eternally thankful for her closet or she would have no where to place her clothing. Not that it consisted of much. Her parents were extremely strict with her wardrobe, it was extremely modest, only owning a singular pair of jeans, everything else was long dresses and skirts along with her blouses. besides for her nightwear of course.

"I know mother, i will finish quickly." Y/n replied with a gentle smile to her mom and she earned a grin in return. "Perfect don't forget to put your bible in your bedside dear." Her mom commented leaving the room with the door exactly halfway open. As it was to stay unless she was sleeping. Since her parents did not like anyone seeing their daughter after late hours of the night not even themselves.

The girl was extremely excited to be back home after 8 years. Though much has changed her longing to be with her best friend was something that had always stuck with her. It was no accident that this college so close to her childhood home was the only one to accept her. She knew fairly well that she could've gone to any college she wanted with her academic standing. So she only applied to one, that way her parents couldn't send her elsewhere. All in order to be with her beloved best friend again. Her best friend whom she will be meeting with again once her room is fully unpacked, which won't be too long now.

"Are you sure this is it.. this can't be the family home.." Her father spoke as Y/n watched out the window at the home of her best friend now a bit withered and overgrown, different from when she had left, the recycling bin filled with trash as the other was ripped over onto the lawn, the mailbox her and Hao had decorated looked like it had been with with a bat. several cans littered the yarn and the grass was no longer green.

"This is it dear." Her mom said as they parked and left the vehicle. "Quite embarrassing." Her dad grumbled as they walked up to the door her mother holding her arm.

"Remember y/n don't go throwing yourself on him." Her mother told her as her dad knocked on the door.

The door opened with an annoying freak and Mrs. Xu smiled at the small family in front of her whilst ushering them inside.

"Wow! y/n you sure have grown from when i've last seen you, you're very beautiful!" Mrs. Xu exclaimed gaping at the younger who bowed and thanked her.

"Minghao just left to his room he needed a small break from his dad nothing too big to worry about! you can go and see him if you'd like, i'm sure he'd be overjoyed to see you again." The women continued on closing the door behind them.

Her mothers hand tightened around the girls arm.

"That's alright i will just wait for him, if he needed space it would be best for me not to interrupt him." Y/n replied knowing her parents would never let her wonder into a boys room despite being 19 going on 20.

"It's such a shame you guys weren't here earlier to celebrate Minghaos birthday! maybe then he would've actually come home." His mom spoke almost sad.

"The boy didn't show up? what do you mean doesn't he live here?" Her dad spoke to the woman as she lead them to the dinner table a tad bit small for the number that would be eating there.

"Oh no, once he got accepted into college he moved out, he lives in a apartment with two of his other friends who went in the same year as him. He's doing well!" His mom spoke sitting across the other grown women.

"Oh college! how lovely which college is he going to?"

"He got accepted to Carat Studies University." His mom spoke proudly.

"Oh CSU! how nice that's exactly where y/n starts tomorrow, a bit late into the quarter but she's a quick learner." Her mom spoke proudly as well.

The back screen door suddenly slammed and stomps were heard silencing the conversation as Mr. Xu entered the dining area and looked around.

"Ah, L/n, you're back.. would you like a beer?" The man asked shuffling through the fridge grabbing two cans as her dad rejected his offer. "More for me i suppose." He spoke sitting at the head of the table next to his wife leaving the only empty seat to be exactly across.

"Minghao! Our guest are here! hurry your ass up!" The man shouted causing y/n to flinch.

The door to the bedroom creaked open as minghao walked out and entered the kitchen with furrowed eyebrows.

y/n gaped at the male. He.. was different for sure obviously, but not what she expected from her sweet old best friend. He had a lip ring, a black mullet and was wearing smudged eyeliner around his eyes. his ears were pierced and he was adjourned is silver jewelry including rings, his nails painted black.

Y/ns dad coughed in surprise as he mother tended up uncomfortably at her side.

Minghao looked at the girl sitting at the table. He recognized her, of course but just barely. Her hair was the same color but longer and neater than he remembered with a natural wave. She wore no makeup and had no piercings or jewelry. She wore a long white fitted shirt snd beige cardigan over that, from what he could see.

"Y/n?"

"hao.." She replied. Her voice gentle and quiet. his eyes widened as he smiled at her.

"Wow." He chuckled taking the seat left and in return her dad scooted slightly away from him.

"Well i'll go get food to serve!" his mom spoke quickly rushed to grab the food and coming back placing some of everything on each plate.

Just as Y/n was about to grab her chopsticks her hand was slapped by her mother. earning stares from the other family.

"Sorry mother." she said meekly bowing her head and locking her hands. her mom and dad doing the same. Minghaos eyebrow lifted waiting for them to lift their heads.

Once they did her mom nodded at her and she grabbed the chopsticks again.

"So minghao, what uhm.. what happened." Her dad asked and he tilted his head in question.

Y/n tapped his foot under the table and he looked at her. Meeting her apologetic gaze. making him more confused.

"I mean i had high hopes for you, i certainly didn't expect this." Her dad continued referring to his appearance.

"Oh it's no use i've already told him. he doesn't care." His dad grumbled from the table.

"Dear it's not our pla-" Y/ns mother started.

"Shut it i'm not talking to you, i'm talking to minghao."

The boy rolled his eyes dropping the utensils and crossing his arms.

"And what exactly are you trying to say?" Minghao asked the guy.

"I mean the piercing and makeup, you're not a girl boy. why play like one." the man grumbled and y/n coughed slightly choking on her noodles.

"And what makes you think i care at all what you have to say about my appearance, this isn't your home you have no right to talk to me this way." Minghao said staring straight into the elders eyes.

"It's not right!" Her dads voice started to raise and minghao stood from her chair, earning a small gasp from y/n.

"This is bullshit, i'm not gonna stay for this i didn't even care to see any of you guys i just wanted to talk to y/n." Minghao stated walking towards the door.

"Let's go Y/n we can catch up elsewhere." Minghao scoffed but paused when he didn't hear her move. he turned to look at the girl seeing her frozen in her seat looking to her lap. "y/n?" he tried again.

She looked up at him her gaze saddened and dull.

"I'm sorry Minghao." she mumbled and he scoffed with a nod.

"Whatever man."

he left.

#kpop #svt imagines #svt x reader #svtcreations #svt angst #svt #minghao #mingi x reader #minghao x y/n #xu minghao #seventeen

[noro-noro-noro]

dream summary: meeting some people at a byob restaurant, i wake up in a stranger's house but i'm actually in taiwan so i walk home, mystery alien pyramid turns people into soulless necromancers

had a dream that I was off visiting somebody. first inwas grocery shopping with my dad bc the place everybody was going out to eat was a byob type of place & I was tasked with picking up the drinks for everyone. there were a lot of alcoholic drinks that I thought I'd actually like there..... i need those to be real .....

anyway got to the restaurant. it had like a club vibe & all the friends brought their gfs, but everybody was dressed super casual and chill. this one girl was wearing pajama pants and a tank top. the alcohol was stronger than I expected so my pov teleported from the restaurant to waking up in somebody's house. awkward! fortunately it was the person that I'd come.to visit in the first place but the house was a third unrelated person's house. my friend wasn't waking up but I wanted to go home so I left a note & started to walk back home since I remembered the way & it wasn't more than 20 minutes.

it became clear to me that I was in Taipei towards the edge of the city. I ran into somebody I knew in highschool - I remembered him bc he had like really light red eyelashes & then when I saw him one time in college he'd gone full goth and dyed his hair black & was wearing mascara too. in this dream his hair was back to red & he'd grown a foot taller & he was palling around with a bunch of surfer bros, which was weird bc there weren't any oceans in the immediate area. i was like oh hi will!! long time no see, how have you been? but he was busy so he was like oh nice seeing you bye! that's okay! people are busy. I kept heading back home.

i ran into some of the friends from the previous night & we were chatting & I admittd that I got too drunk & missed most of the night & they laughed & said "it's for the best! listen around midnight Antonio fell & knocked a bookshelf THROUGH the window & like you know we were 15 stories up right so boss (the restaurant owner, they knew him) is super mad" & we all laughed about that too for a while & chatted & then I was like "anyway like I woke up in F's house with S & I wanna get home" & they were like "how dif you end up in F's house?? lol??" & i was like "man I'd tell you if I could, f wasn't even there" & after bantering a little longer i headed out. i miss having a friend group like what my brain made for me.

i was with my sister now + one of the friends from before who came with to make sure I didn't get lost. we got to a big square that my house was just off of. there was like a pyranid shaped sculpture and some avant garde fountain. a lot of people are there either just hanging out or looking for UFOs, since a lot were reported recently. we'd seen some before too - they were smallish pyramids varying in size from 8-20feet high that flew from one jet on the bottom & the sides had symmetrical glowing white runes. they'd land somewhat delicately and then create some kind of puzzle in their surroundings & onceit was solved they'd fly off again.

it got dark and we saw one - it made to land on the other side of the sculpture on the far side of the square, so everyone got real quiet so it'd think here was an empty space, and it did come over here. it landed, and the lights dimmed so it was safe to come investigate. some white lady yoga group went to check it out first, & their leader a woman eith dark brown hair started interpreting out instructions - do a specific dance. turn on cue. move your arms like this. as they did this, we became inside a white and pale gray hotel lobby. gandalf appeared when someone said "tch we're trying to learn magic from the pyramid and gandalf won't even help us", which made me stop and think. my sister stopped too. the dancers were moving faster and the first woman made a scooping gesture and a skeleton appeared in mist form in her hand . it was passed to every dancer but when it got to me and my sister we threw it at the wall and it dissipated before it could be realized. this seemed to scramble their focus tho dancers didn't notice & their eyes went black. we noticed gandalf started moving cautiously and went over to him, & he said "in this stage you just need to carefully and quietly break line of sight." we closed doors between us and gandalf moved the wallvlike his power was "liquify tool". sunny outside again as we were taking our leave, but the lethal company dead body filter came on the screen & gandalf said "A GHOUL IS ABOUT" & as we went down the hallway, a ghoul like from darkest dungeon appeared & punched throigh the glsss door. i was like ok! nkt messing with u bro! & sprinted back down the hallway. I saw through the window the ghoul looked like it'd been with a bunch of people & some muscular woman grabbed its shoulders & said a quick calm down chant & the ghoul turned into a 30s ish bearded guy, who apologized profusely & said that the extra necromatic energy triggered his transformation on accident. gandalf nodded and explained the failed necromancers were trapped in a hotel shaped box with absolutely no exit or entry either until the energy gave up and left or until everyone starved. grim, but they were acting like the zombies from train to busan, so it too much of a loss.

then I woke up bc it's so cold. the thermostat broke a few days ago so the house has been freezing & at first it was an exciting novelty for my room to be a decent temperature!! but it got colder & I'm tired of my feet being like ice so the thermostat can start working again now

#dreams

[ragingbookdragon]

All I Wanna Be Is Somebody To You

A Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: None

Author's Note: For the one anon who wanted a nervous reader! I hope I did this justice for you, darling! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She didn’t hate talking. Not really. But the idea of holding conversations with people she didn’t know sent her heart fluttering and her throat tightening until it was impossible to breathe. More often than not, she found herself apologizing a lot for the stuttering or the repeating of things she said. Most people gave her odd looks, told her to stop apologizing so much (like that ever helped anyone), or laughed and told her she was cute—which was nice until she realized they meant in a childish sort of way rather than an endearing one.

But it wasn’t always like that. According to her parents, there’d been a time when she couldn’t stop talking. Always had something to say and had somebody to tell. Something changed during her years, she knew when, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself or her family when they asked what happened to their outgoing and talkative daughter. Too many times she’d heard, “You know no one cares about X, right?” or “Oh my God, will you shut up?” and every time she heard it from a friend it dug into her a little deeper, made her shut her mouth tighter, and tore her heart much harsher.

And because she chose to be the silent type instead of the outgoing one, people assumed her arrogant and cold, distant and rude, and she found herself spending most of middle school and high school by herself. She was glad when graduation came, and while she’d dreaded giving her valedictorian speech, she did manage to get through it without too much trouble. It did feel like her one triumph against everyone who ignored her throughout school.

College freed her. Allowed her to make a flexible schedule, take smaller classes, and be solitary when she wanted. She’d refused a dorm room on the campus, living only fifteen minutes from Gotham University, instead choosing to commute daily and she liked it a lot more than having roommates in a four-bedroom apartment on the school grounds.

When she wasn’t in class, she stayed home a lot. It came with being a homebody, but when she did go out into the great big city, she liked to shop. Little antique shops or bookstores. She went to bookstores more than she did school. There was something so wonderful about finding a book in the shop and sitting down at a café and reading quietly. Which is how she met him, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why he wanted anything to do with her. She was quiet and shy, and he was open and flirty. They obviously didn’t match in any way, shape, or form. At least, that’s what she thought.

***

She drew her gaze along the wall of books before her, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she searched for the novel. It’d been a long time since she’d read The Count of Monte Cristo, a copy of her father’s that he’d had when she was just a child. Something had reminded her of it the other day and all she could think about was getting her own so she could annotate in the margins.

As she came across it, she started reaching when someone got to it first, one finger pulling it out by its spine before taking it into their hand. She visibly deflated with a soft sigh as it was the last copy and hung her head in defeat.

“I’m sorry, were you wanting this too?” Her head cocked up and she gazed at the young man before her. He smiled and she felt like she’d been shot in the chest at how dazzling it was. “Here, you can have it.”

Swallowing thickly, she shook her head, “You got it first.” Nodding, she added, “It’s yours.”

He cocked a brow at that. “Well, from the devastated look on your face, doll, you want it to be yours.”

Her cheeks warmed at that, and she felt nervous where she stood, resisting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. “N-no it’s okay.” She said. “You take it.”

“Oh no you don’t. That’s not how this works.” He chuckled and took her hands, pressing the book into them, then he winked at her. “The doll deserves to have her book.”

If there had ever been a time in which she wanted to explode from embarrassment, it was then, and before she knew it, she shoved the book back into his arms and so hard that it must’ve knocked the wind out of him because he gasped. She spun around and took off down the aisle and out the front doors as fast as she could, wanting nothing more than to disappear in the crowded streets. That or sink into the ground. Maybe next week she’d come back and get the book. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be there again.

***

Then again, her hopes were always wrong, and she picked up the copy of The Divine Comedy, flipping it open to read the first page.

“I see you’re a fan of the classics, aren’t you, doll?”

She snapped the book shut when she heard his voice and looked over at him. Something inside annoyed her at the cocky smirk he wore, much more was the arm he had resting on the top of the bookshelf as he gazed at her.

“You know, you left a nice bruise on me the other week.” He quipped, shifting his weight to cross his ankles. “You’re pretty strong.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, turning to look back at the book. “Sorry I hit you…it was an accident.”

“Well, I can accept your apology if you tell me your name.”

“Why?” she questioned quietly, wiggling her toes.

“Because I wanna put a name to such a cute face. Why else?” he flirted, and she scowled at the book cover. “Oh, that’s an even more adorable face.”

“Quit doing that!” she hissed. “It’s not funny!”

He chuckled. “Oh contraire, it’s actually hilarious.” He took a step towards her. “I’m Jason, by the way.”

Her eyes darted to the outstretched hand, and she stared at it for a split second before softly shaking it. “(Y/N).” she murmured.

Before she could pull her hand back, he raised it and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Enchanté ma chérie,” he professed, breath hot against her skin and just like before, she was so absolutely flustered she was yanking her hand back and poor Jason’s grip slipped, and he whacked himself in the face with his own hand.

“Nice to meet you!” (Y/N) yelped and scurried off down the aisle and to the register where she purchased her book in record time. Third time was the charm and she prayed that he wouldn’t be there again.

***

And whoever lived upstairs must’ve really had it out for her because she flipped the page in her One Thousand and One Arabian Nights and heard an exaggerated cough. Looking up through her eyelashes, she saw Jason standing there with a grin on his face. “Hello (Y/N),” he purred, and she immediately felt her cheeks become hot.

“Hi Jason,” she muttered, gazing at her book, listening to the chair screech as he sat down across from her.

“How are you doing today?” he asked, setting down his own copy of Arabian Nights.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, finding it harder to focus on the book over the smell of his woody and oriental cologne. She thought she smelled a twinge of tobacco with it. “I’m fine.” Her eyes found his teal ones for a moment. “And you?”

He smiled, making her heart pick up a beat. “Doing pretty good.” He winked. “I got to see you again. Though I’m hoping I don’t get hit again. Either by a book or my own fist.”

“Sorry…” she cringed, sinking down in her seat. “That was an accident.”

Jason shrugged and propped his elbows on the table, placing his chin on his fingers. “Don’t worry about it. Say, do you like coffee?”

“I do,” she murmured.

“Great, want anything from the café?” he asked, nodding at the board and she looked over at it.

“I guess I could order a latte,” she replied more to herself than him, starting to pull her wallet out.

“Nah, I got it.” Jason said, standing from his seat.

(Y/N) blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said I got it.” He quipped and she jumped from her seat to stop him, but caught the leg of her chair, and she flailed, stumbling right into Jason. They went tumbling to the floor and she landed atop him. For a minute they were both stunned silent as the people in the store looked at them and he smirked at her. “Well, this saves me the trouble of asking you out to dinner.” He winked again. “Should’ve told me you had a bold streak, doll.”

She immediately scrambled up, placing one of her hands on his chest to shove off him when her leg slipped, and her knee went into his groin. He groaned and rolled over, holding his crotch and (Y/N) was so mortified all she could do was apologize profusely and at one point she was sure she was mixing up her words, but it didn’t matter. Grabbing her things, she started running off a third time.

Though she’d made it ten feet out of the door and down the street before someone grabbed her round the waist and hauled her to a stop. “Oh no! We’re not doing this pattern again! I am not getting hit a fourth time!”

(Y/N) spun in his arm and gaped at him. “I’m sorry!”

Jason sighed heavily and lowered his head. “Holy crap, I’ve never had such a hard time getting a girl to go out with me.”

“You wanna go out with me?” She pointed to herself despite her flustered state. “W-with me?” she gave him a dubious look. “Really? M-me?”

“Well, if you wanna hit me a fourth time to be sure, go ahead, but yeah,” he retorted then heaved another sigh. “Jeez, talk about getting hit on.”

(Y/N) spluttered at that. “I did not hit on you!”

“Right, you just hit me instead.”

“It was an accident! And I said I was sorry!”

Jason grinned at her and arm away. “Well, I’ll accept your sorry’s if you go on a date with me.”

She blinked at him. “A date? When?”

“Tonight.” He said. “There’s a bookstore down in the town square for insomniacs. Open until seven A.M. and serves a mean cup of hot cocoa.” Jason smiled and took her hand. “So? How ‘bout it, doll? Wanna go out with me tonight?”

All she could do was simply stare at this gorgeous man that obviously had a thing for her for some god forsaken reason. “Why?” she asked blankly, and he seemed to falter at that.

“Why what?” he repeated, confusion etching across his face.

“Why do you wanna go out with me?” (Y/N) gestured to herself. “I’m weird.”

“So am I.” he agreed.

“I stutter a lot.”

“So does my brother.”

“I don’t talk a lot. I don’t like talking a lot. People get mad at me when I talk a lot and I prefer to listen and you’re not going to like going out with me because I’m going to be super quiet because I get flustered easily and I—”

Jason put his hand over her mouth and stared at her. “Do you ever take a breath?” she nodded silently, and he sighed. “Look, (Y/N), it’s only taken getting shoved in the stomach with a book, getting punched with my own hand, and getting nut-shot to understand that you’re not exactly comfortable with the public.”

He removed his hand. “That’s why I invited you to the bookstore. Because even in the few weeks we’ve known each other, I know you like quiet places. But if you don’t feel comfortable going with me right now, that’s okay. We can take it slow.” Jason smiled at her. “Doll, all I wanna be is somebody to you.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly and looked at her feet, whispering, “I…don’t wanna go out right now…but I’d like to give you my number…if you’re okay with that?” she shrugged. “We can text.” Feeling hopeful she reached out and placed her hang on his arm. “And get to know each other better? Maybe tell each other our favorite books? That’s…the best way in my opinion.”

His face lit up and he murmured, “I’d love that.” He pulled out his phone, tapping at it before he handed it over to her. “Here you go.”

She took it and looked at the contact name he’d already put in. My Flustered Doll. She glared at him. “You think you’re pretty cute, don’t you, Jason? You’re not. At all.”

He smirked. “Oh, is that so?” She nodded and he quipped, “We’ll just see about that then.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and typed in her number, handing him back his phone. “There you go.” He glanced at it, seemingly satisfied before he locked it and put it back in his pocket, then they met each other’s gazes and she awkwardly pointed over her shoulder. “I’m going home now.”

Jason caught her hand and kissed the back of it. “See you later, doll. Stay cute.”

She was hurrying off again, his laughter in her ears, unaware that their exchanging of numbers was going to evolve into so much more in the coming months.

***

“—And I’m pretty sure I can never show my face again at school, Jay. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.”

He hummed, fingers gently dipping into her spine. “Well, this is coming from the girl that nut-shotted be in the middle of a busy bookstore.”

“Why would you remind me about that?” (Y/N) scowled. “It was an accident.”

“And yet it can’t be more mortifying than telling a guy to shove his head up his ass.” He retorted, eyes still closed as they basked in the sunlight streaming through the window. “This is at least a five on the ten scale.”

“More like a hundred.” She muttered, tucking her head under his chin. “I can’t believe I said that to him. Oh, I was just so—just so mad at what he said about my poem! He was just being mean!” (Y/N) gripped his sweatshirt. “You understand right?”

Jason nodded, his other hand resting at her hip. “Mhm.”

“You don’t think I’m overreacting, do you?” she frowned. “Everyone else thinks I am.”

“Telling someone that their poetry isn’t good because it isn’t iambic pentameter isn’t following constructive criticism, doll. It’s called being a douche.” She giggled and he bent his neck, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Call me next time Lord Douche-Canoe starts on your poetry again and I’ll school him on face-time.”

(Y/N) giggled again and rolled over, pressing them chest to chest and she grinned when he whined at her moving. “Thank you, Jason.”

He smiled at her. “I only take my thanks in kisses. Sorry, doll.”

Rolling her eyes, she bent down and pressed her lips to his. “I love you,” she murmured against him, and he hummed, hands grasping her hips.

“I love you more.”

“Nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” he scoffed, pulling back to look at her. “I am willingly in a relationship with the girl who nut-shot me in—MMHPF!”

(Y/N) shoved a pillow into his face, face hot as she shouted, “Stop bringing that up! It was an accident!” All she got in return was his laughter.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader imagines #jason todd x reader imagine #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood x reader imagines #red hood x reader imagine #red hood imagines #red hood imagine #red hood #batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #dc comics #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc

[stickynotestoletters]

ugggh so I am a dirty little slut for sal fisher and I had a thought about it sooooo,,,,

Sal Fisher x GN (masc body) headcanons of what he's like with you

this is gonna be very heavily influenced by the fact I am sleepy and really wanna write this rn!

Warnings: Non-canon-compliant (Sal lives, Larry lives, Todd doesn't go crazy, no murder), some NSFW stuff, switch-bottom leaning Sal, Service Top Sal

Highschool

When he first meets you he's, hands down, the most flustered he's ever been before

Like, he's really into you

He just sees you in the hall and immediately blushes

he goes around his days as usual and stuff still but now he's eyeing you whenever you come into view

it's cute, he looks like a little kitten peering at you from around the corner because he’s too shy to say something

Larry makes little jokes about it and always tells him to talk to you

"wow, what a stalker" is his usual line when he finds Sal looking at you from somewhere

he musters up the courage to talk to you in his junior year when you wear a Sanity's Fall's shirt to class one day

from then on you two talk together whenever you have class and stuff

your parents move into the apartments in your senior year because of a demotion and you and Sal start hanging out outside of school

He finally asks you out on the last day of senior year

You and the gang go out to the football field the night after graduation

after they clean up all of the equipment for the stage

You guys end up smoking a blunt because Larry brought some of his stash and, hey, what's the harm?

You and Sal end up laying in the middle of the field while Larry chases Ash and Todd around on the bleachers

They're laughing and howling at the moon so you two just listen

Sal takes his mask off cause he feels more comfortable laying with it off

He takes out his pigtails and you comb through his hair for a bit

You look him in the eyes and just stop brushing your fingers through his hair long enough for him to look up at you

your eyes both meet and you two just stare

You see the stars in his eyes

Sal just thinks "You're the prettiest person I've ever seen"

"what?" "uhhhh....nothing"

"It's okay Sal!" You giggle at him and he giggles too

you both start giggling at each other and you two hug each other

still, just facing each other, heads tucked into shoulders, chests pressed so tightly together, legs intertwined

It's calm

He feels safe

So safe and warm

It's wonderful

So he sighs and says" I think I'm in love with you"

And it's an accident

He doesn't regret it, not processing it until you say "I'm in love with you too silly"

And you stay like that

no panic or guilt

just tucked away into each other

The gang goes to 7/11 that night-morning really it is 3 am-and get slushies

all of them are teasing you guys as you hold hands on the way there

it's cute

He's cute

You're cute

You both feel warm in the jackets you switch from each other

it's cute

"God the stalker finally got the victim in their clasps, another tragically happy ending" "Shut it Larry Face"

College

You both end up staying in different places after high school

You take a year off college and stay with your parents at Addison Apartments and Sal moves into the gang's house

It's nice, you see each other regularly for dates and ghost hunts

it's blissful

Then Sal starts having his nightmares again and you come over regularly for sleepovers

it's months into this routine of going home, getting new clothes from the apartments, go out with Sal, come and sleep at his place to help with nightmares, repeat that Larry has the most brilliant idea

"Why don't you just move in with Sal? You practically live with him anyway."

This is in front of you two, you're both at the gang's house and drinking some morning coffee

Sal not really jokes and agrees

And then you genuinely agree

It's a big moment for you two

Sal wanted you to move in right away but was scared his nightmares would affect you or you two wouldn't end up working out

So you two complied and stayed where you were

But this is gonna be an actual conversation where he is up for it and knows you two are stable

So you talk about it

You two agree

And you end up moving in that day

it's not that hard since most of your clothes are over there already

It's basically just moving your bed, knick-knacks, and bookshelf in so that's just the big things since you have a queen

It's bliss from there

you both settle into a nice routine and after you start college Sal decides to focus on his music for rn and take a break

You get a job and the dynamic is just... so pure

you guys are finally, finally, okay and the best thing is that you're together

He's still adorable and you're still sweet

You guys end up getting your own apartment outside of Nockfell and Addison Apartments

The gang stays around

Larry ends up moving in with you two for a little bit until he can afford his own place

Sal gets a lot more gigs out there in the city than he would have gotten in Nockfell and you get a job at a little club

Sal ends up playing there often because of you

NSFW headcanons

Okay so Sal is a hopeless romantic

before he moved to Nockfell he never really had anybody else who was interested in him

so he was super hopeless in planning your first time together

once you had slept over with each other a couple of times he makes this grand layout and waits for you to walk in to see him spred on the bed, clad in some cute underwear and nothing else

turns out though you were sick and sent Larry to tell Sal you couldn’t come over cause your phone was dead and you didn’t wanna get him sick

So Larry ends up walking in on a naked Sal and scarying the everloving crap out of him

He makes fun of y'all after that about it

So your first time is honestly uneventful after that whole fiasco

Deciding to just causally hook up at his place instead

Sal is a switch but he leans for bottoming

he can top, he's really good at being a service top

He’s not insecure about himself, he’s pretty big for his height *cough* (9.7) *cough*

but he prefers being spoiled and called pretty

loves being called feminine nicknames like "pretty baby" even if he is topping

stuff that's gender-neutral but is more feminine in origin

He likes it when you do it doggy-style if you're topping just cause if you press him into the mattress he can feel you better inside of him

Whines so much when you go faster

really likes getting fucked stupid, he wants his throat to be sore and his ass to be bed-ridden

Loves topping you when you're in his lap straddling him

He really likes to make you do work for a while, guides you and everything until you're breaking

when you eventually end up asking for him to "just fuck me already Sal...please?" He wants tears down your face, crying and desperate for him or else it’s not gonna happen

He ends up fucking into you like a monster from there if you are

loves when you lay on your back and he's on his knees sitting and thrusting into you, pulling you onto his lap

very vocal either way but he laughs and giggles more with you, his moans are less fucked out and more "oh god, yes!" in nature

His sex drive is really high, he could go for hours

If you end up getting tired when he's bottoming he's gonna bounce on your pretty cock and ride you so pathetically

It's so pathetically adorable

but if he's topping and you get tired he usually asks you if he can fuck you to sleep

You end up agreeing only if he cleans you up after

He doesn't have any severe kinks or whatnot

He's really into being breed though

Tie him up too while you do it

he likes gags as well

when you breed him he'll end up feeling bad after you finish and he can't feel it anymore once it's out

So you end up giving him a buttplug after to compromise

Sometimes if he's being a brat you'll tie him up, gag him, and leave him with a vibrator over stimming him

You'll leave him in the room and come back to a crying Sal, salivating and so fucked out without having even cum once

If you're ever being the brat he does the exact opposite

He'll tie you up but make it so you can't close your mouth

You have to be quiet though, he doesn’t want to hear anything louder than breathing and your pathetic whimpers

you're over stimmed to hell and orgasm so much it's difficult to keep awake

but do not fall asleep cause if you don't get through it to the end it won't end (Consensually of course)

He and Larry definitely hooked up once or twice before meeting you so I think he'd ask you to let him in on it

It becomes a regular occurrence until Larry moves out

But when you do have a threesome and he is feeling dominant get ready to not move for the next three weeks

It's nice though and doesn't end up changing the relationship between you three

That's it, I gotta stop before I cream myself into dirtier shit cause I am his slut. I have Sal Fisher brain rot syndrome so I'll definitely make another one eventually. Request some stuff and I'll be happy to write!

Continuation for Threesome hcs here by request

-Laika

#Sally Face fanfiction #Sal Fisher x gn reader #Sal Fisher x male reader #Sal Fisher #Sally Face #Sal Fisher smut #Sal Fisher hcs #Sally Face hcs #Sal Fisher smut hcs

[bakugotsundere]

Hating Him - Bakugo Katsuki (3)

Bakugo x (black) fem reader

( still can read if you’re not)

sorry if it bothers you, i just felt that my black readers weren’t feeling black as they were reading y/n stories cause i for sure wasn’t

Warning: Smut, Rough sex, hair pulling, name calling, Nsfw 18+

It had been weeks since you talked to Bakugo. You had been avoiding him ever since that night at Minas house. Practice was quiet, no arguing between you two. There was a time a couple of days ago you argued, only because of him of course. He had to lead the team during practice once and was just being very obnoxious and he tried it with you and you snapped on him, so then it started a argument. Some hurtful things were said, you told him that Shindo had looked better than him and you knew this made his blood boil but he had already called you desperate so you could careless.

“Are you alright?” You heard shindo ask, pulling you out of your thoughts. You placed your feet in his lap, “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” You said softly. Shindo was a transfer student. Mina had introduced him to the group right before you and bakugo had got into that argument. Shindo was very handsome and was a pretty chill person so you and him got along well. Bakugo hated Shindo for some unknown reason so he never came around anymore, he barely came around before so it didn’t matter. Shindos hands messaged your legs as you watched Denki try to act as something. You were playing a game of charades and you had to guess what denki was trying to be.

Everyone was here except for bakugo and Kirishima. “Hey guys.” You heard a familiar voice say. Speaking of the fucking devil. You turned around to be greeted with a happy kirishima and a angry bakugo. He just had to bring him. Bakugos eyes met yours and he clenched his jaw once he saw your legs on Shindo. You didn’t say a word to each other. Bakugo had on a white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. You gave kirishima a small smile before turning back around in your seat. The tension between you and Bakugo had to be noticeable. Bakugo sat down on the other couch with Kirishima as they greeted everyone. Bakugo greeted everyone except you and Shindo.

The game of charades continued and you and Shindo were having your own conversation, “Where’d you get those rings from?” He asked and you could feel Bakugos eyes on you. You began to get nervous because the truth would cause a lot. Telling him that Bakugo gave them to you because he couldn’t finger you with them on didn’t sound like a plan. Kirishima noticed that these were Bakugos too, “Hey Bakugo aren’t those-

Bakugo hit Kirishima in his shoulder and once he caught on kirishima gave you a confused smile. Fuck kirishima. “I got them from a friend.” You said and he grabbed your hand, looking at it, “May I ask who this friend is?” He asked and you gave him a small smile nodding your head, “Her name is...Alena, before I left for college she gave me them to keep.” You lied and he nodded his head before you went on to talk about something else. That was close but it’s not like you and Shindo are together but saying you got them from Bakugo would stir up a lot of things. From then on Bakugo kept his eyes on you. You were the only thing he was focusing on until everyone started to leave until you were the only one left in the lounge area.

You stared at your hand with bakugos rings on it, remembering everything from that night. You figured that The rings were causing too much trouble and decided that you had to go give them back to Bakugo. Bakugo lived behind the university in like a loft looking home. You only knew this because there was once a part at his house that you ended up not going to. You walked off out of the university, heading straight to his place.

...

Once you made it to his loft, you knocked on the door a few times before he finally opened it. He was wearing a pair of grey nike shirts and a pair of white socks. His shirt was off, showing his toned body. He also had the on the wrist bands that you’re guessing his mother gave him from all of those community help outs she worked at. He looked good but you knew you couldn’t say that. He looked down at you, “What do you want?” He asked and you removed his rings from off of your small finger and handed them to him, “Here are your rings.” You told him and he sighed taking them in his hand, “Is that all?” He asked and you nodded your head. “Do you wanna come in?” He asked and you shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know, Depends on if it’s considered desperate or not.” You told him and he sighed, “Look-

You walked past him, going inside his loft. You looked around, all his furniture was grey and black, some wooden, which fit him. Everything was neat. Nothing out of place. The stairs to his room was to the right while his living room was on the left and there was also a really black tall bookshelf in the corner. And all the way in the back was his kitchen. The wall on the right was brick. It was really cold inside his house but you liked it. You took off your jacket leaving you only in a white see-through tank top and a pair of grey biker shorts that were a bit too short and he watched you. He could feel him self start to get hard down there and he had wished he didn’t like the sight of you in your natural state. All you had to do was touch him and he’d be in for it.

You turned around to face him, “So why did you invite me in? I thought I was the reason for all your problems?” You slyly said craving his reaction. “Why’d you accept the offer? Shindo’s much more attractive than me right?” He asked, “Mhmm. You called me desperate in front of the whole track team. Now if I told them how much you liked the taste of me I’d be wrong.” You told him and he walked towards you.

His large body towered over yours. “Should’ve done it while you could, I’m not taking back anything I said. You are desperate. You know like I know that I’m the only one who has ever made you feel that good.” He told you and you looked up at him, “And I’m not taking back anything I said either. Your ego is too big for you to be losing to a girl like me. And as much as you hate to admit it, you are also desperate for me. I can tell by the way you’re getting harder by the second. I’m attractive even when we’re arguing?” You asked him and this hit a nerve. You wanted it to. His large hands found there way to your hair and he pulled your freshly straightened hair. He sat down on the couch and pulled your body onto him, making you straddle him. Somehow he still felt taller even while you were sitting on him.

“You’re mouth is so fucking smart, you know that?” He asked and you smiled, “Only with you. Shindo has never made me as angry as you do.” You told him and he pulled you in, kissing you on your lips. His kisses were rough and you liked it. His teeth pulled at your bottom lip before they sunk into your neck. He yanked your hair, leaving your neck open. A soft moan left your lips as bakugos mouth played at your neck, “D-Dont leave a Mark.” You breathed out and he shook his head no, “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with you, you’re mine .” He told you and your hands found there way to his blonde hair. His nibbles slowly turned into gentle kisses, just to let you know he had already placed many hickeys on your neck and his hands dragged over your curves as he bring his lips back to yours.

Your hips grind against his cock as your wet pussy soaked through your shorts, staining his grey ones. You gasp as he hands find there way to your ass, gripping it roughly. Kneading it almost. Your moans went straight into his mouth as he kissed your lips. You cupped his warm cheeks with your hands as he used his hands to guide you along his throbbing cock. The heat from both your bodies didn’t match to to the coldness in his loft. His body was like a drug to yours, you couldn’t help but want more. “You’re making a fucking mess.” He growled lowly and you looked at him, “S-Sorry. I can’t control it.” You told him softly between kisses, “You’re such a fucking slut.” He said as you buried your head into his warm neck. There was no doubt that you had already was lost on him.

You gently kissed his neck, making his jaw clenched, you found yourself wanting to Mark him too. You nibble at his neck and short grunts left his lips. You placed them everywhere, you knew Bakugo wasn’t even gonna try to cover it up. He was gonna have everyone guessing whose lips had planted them. “I-I need it. ” You whispered softly in his ear, “Don’t know what it is. Be specific sweetheart.” He told you through gritted teeth as his throbbing cock pressed directly against your pussy. “C-Can you please fuck me daddy?” You asked him. Your words went straight to his dick making his urge to have himself deep inside you more incompetent.

He shifted underneath you, pulling his shorts off revealing his cock. It was bigger than you had thought. It was very thick and long. It leaked with Precum and the tip was swollen. Veins were everywhere and all of that you wanted it was gone. You didn’t know if you could take it. You wrapped your hand around it, bringing your thumb to the tip. You looked at him, “B-Bakugo I don’t think we should be doing this.” You managed to say and his hands found there way to your shorts, starting to pull them off.

His tip pressed at your entrance waiting to feel your walls. “Why not?” He asked lowly and you looked down at his dick, “This is bad sportsmanship.” You told him, trying to focus on your words but his dick had been way too distracting at the moment, “And arguing all day isn’t? Stop acting innocent, I know how much of a slut you really fucking are.” He said before he pushed you down all the way on him, making your thighs clench and your hands grip his large shoulders. He gripped your waist, moving you up and down, giving you no time to adjust. Your eyes flutter as you push out insufficient moans from your lips. His cock was getting larger and larger inside your gushy flesh making you whimper each thrust. You found yourself savoring this feeling.

He watched in satisfaction as your body bounced up and down on him. The view of your brown frame doing so made him want to fuck you harder. “So god damn tight and wet for me.” He muttered. The sound of your ass clapping down into him was the only thing that could be heard. Your moans were barely audible and every groan that came from him made your Pussy wetter and wetter. As you started to move faster, you could tell you were about to meet your climax. His cock was hitting more than just your cervix. You were about to cum. You were reaching your ending point. You found yourself collapsing on him and letting out a series of moans and falling into his chest.

“Good girl. I wanna see you cum for me again.”

He moved your hands behind your back and started to fuck the shit out of you. His cock grazed against your walls as he did so, your cries were ignored by him. He was going faster than before, way faster. You couldn’t move at all, Bakugo had done more than just take control, “I-I can’t.” You cried to him and he ignored you, “You can’t what?” He asked as he continued to fuck you. “I can’t t-take it Bakugo.” You moaned into his neck. “I don’t give a shit. Should’ve thought about that before you came here.” He growled and tears brimmed at your eyes. This had felt so good, he was rough, so rough and you enjoyed it. Enjoyed every single part of it. He really was perfect for you.

Your moans turned into whimpers as you let out loud begs. His constant ramming at your sweet spot turned into a feeling of euphoria. Your walls started to suck him in, squeezing around his veins as another wave of cum was about to rush over you. “Shit. Your squeezing me so tight. God dammit.” He said between gritted teeth. You could feel him about to come so you fee into it, “Cum inside me please.” Your words straight to his cock and he let put a series of curse words followed by his cum pouring inside of you. You took his dick from out of you, letting his cum pour out of you and onto your fingers. You put them in your mouth, licking up every last drop of it. You then fell into his chest, feeling tired already, “My legs hurt.” You told him.

“We’re not done yet.”

His hands gripped underneath your ass, lifting you up. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, you buried your head into his neck, knowing that you probably weren’t going to be able to walk after this. He brung you upstairs to his room, placing you on his bed. He turned you on your stomach, and you arched your back for him, Knowing what was already about to happen.

He placed his hands at your waist and pressed the tip at your entrance. He teased you a little before shoving himself all the way in. You could never get used to this feeling. He started off slow before he found the Rhythm and started fucking the shit out of you. Your mind began to feel hazy as in this position, you could feel every single inch of them and it fucking drove you mad.

Your small hands gripped the covers, grabbing the satin fabric tightly. He was literally fucking you senseless. Nothing but the sound of your ass bouncing off his torso could be heard. With each thrust, you felt something jolt inside you. His cock was piercing through you almost. Your mind wasn’t filled with anything but him and his length, hoping his constant thrusting didn’t stop. You wanted to be wasted off him. “M-More. I want more.” You whimpered and he went crazy inside you. He pulled your hair and started to go faster than before. His grip on your hair was strong, hurting your scalp almost. He was farther than your cervix and your eyes started to flutter. He was destroying you. Showing you what more really was.

“K-Katsuki, I-I,” you tried to say something but you couldn’t. He was fucking you too hard for words to even form from your lips. His hand rubbed down your back and he held your waist down into the bed and started ramming himself inside your already abused pussy. “Who’s pussy is this?” He asked and you answered quickly, “Yours- Katsuki please.” You begged as he stretched you out even more. He slapped your ass making you yelp. Your moans were muffled into the covers as you buried your head into them. You felt so dizzy, your vision was blurry and you felt hopeless. Your legs started to shake, and your walls squeezed him tightly. You didn’t even have time to tell him because right then and there you came all over him but he didn’t care, he continued. After a few sloppy strokes he eventually came inside you.

You felt so violated and disgusted. “Fuck. Come and clean me up.” He demanded referring to his dick. You sat up, cum dripped from out of your pussy as you took his length in your mouth, cleaning up the mess you made on it. Once you were done he grabbed you buy your chin, pulling you towards his face. Sweat dripped from down his face. You started blinking a lot when you felt nervous. He noticed and chuckled lowly before placing a kiss on your forehead and cheek, “You look so pretty all worn out from me y/n.” He stated. You turned away embarrassed and still shaken up by what he just had done. “I’m tired.” You told him and he stood up, walking into the bathroom to get a towel.

“If that’s only how long you can last you’re in for a rude awakening with me next time my love.”

#bakugo x black reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou smut #mha smut #my hero academia #just Bakugo

[daddyjackfrost]

Iwazumi Hajime;

Prompt 60: “You’re so beautiful in the sun.”

warnings: none! fluff! oh, it is self indulgent tho (sorry not sorry), also reading? books? yeah

iwazumi x f!reader

a/n: hi! okay so i wrote this as a treat after the bokuto angst. i think we all deserve something sweet after that. (especially since there’s more coming) this is just pure fluff. enjoy!

Iwazumi watched you with eyes filled with love, his sole focus on you as you slowly walked down the isle, your finger running against the spines of the books.

Your neck was slightly bent to the left as you read the names of the authors. You walked in an awkward position slowly as you looked for the books you had saved up for.

Every time you walked a bit too fast, the pinky that was linked with Iwazumi’s tugged you back.

You loved book shopping with Iwazumi because even though the man wasn’t as passionate about books as you were, he was always interested in the books you were reading, and often found the books you wanted before you did.

You had no idea how, especially since he usually only came into the store with you, but you never asked him. Though the books that just happened to appear on your bookshelf were a big indicator as to why he knew where all the books were.

Iwazumi would never tell you that he actually did like books. Not because he was sure you would beat him up for hiding it, but because he didn’t want you to stop reading to him.

He loved it when you read to him.

“Aha! I found it, Haji!”

Iwazumi’s eyes softened as his eyes fell on your excited face. You were holding the book with gentle hands as you read the back. You both knew you already knew what The Goldfinch was about, but reading the back of the book was a habit you were not willing to break.

Iwazumi watched as a small smile formed on your lips as you finished reading the back, and then he watched as the smile turned into a frown.

Your eyes looked at the spot the book was hiding. Someone had put it in the wrong spot. No wonder you couldn’t find it.

“What’s wrong, love?” Iwazumi asked you.

He knew what was wrong. The book was not in the right spot. The Goldfinch was written by Donna Tartt, but it was in the V authors.

“Someone put it in the wrong place.” Under your breath, you mumbled, “How hard is it to put a book back where it belongs?”

Iwazumi just snorted as he pulled you towards the cashier by your pinky. You gripped the book with tight hands, already anticipating reading it.

You looked down at your linked pinkies and smiled. Iwazumi wasn’t the biggest on PDA, but he was clingy, and he needed to be touching you or close to you all the time.

You didn’t like holding hands for a long period of time since your hands usually began to sweat and get clammy, and Iwazumi loved holding your hand.

So you compromised.

Your pinky and Iwazumi’s pinky were always linked. And would be linked forever, Iwazumi firmly believed it. There was no one else for him. Only you.

The cashier smiled at you and Iwazumi. Her kind elderly eyes brightened as she saw your linked pinkies, but neither of you saw that.

“Hello, darlings. Just the one book?”

You smiled and slid the book on the counter. “Hi! Yes, just the one.”

The lady scanned the book and punched a few buttons before speaking again. “And how would you like to pay?”

Before you could answer, Iwazumi held up his debit card. “Debit, please.”

You frowned and reached for his card, but Iwazumi just moved it out of your reach, and then pulled your pinky as a warning.

“Haji, no,” you scolded. “You paid last time! Let me pay.” You looked down at your card to make sure it was the right one when you heard the small beep of the card payment being accepted.

You looked up and scowled at a triumphant Iwazumi and a smiling cashier. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“So not fair,” you mumbled.

The cashier just laughed as she handed Iwazumi your bag. “You’ve got yourself a gentleman.”

Your eyes met the lady’s soft brown ones and you let out a small genuine smile that made Iwazumi’s heart flutter.

You squeezed Iwazumi’s pinky. “Yeah, I do.”

With a smile and a small wave, you walked out of the store, Iwazumi following close behind. Once you two began walking. you started to lightly swing your connected arms back and forth.

“Hajime, you can’t keep buying all my books, you’re gonna go broke.”

Iwazumi rolled his eyes. You two had already had this conversation one too many times. Why didn’t you understand that he wanted to buy all your books? He wanted to buy them because they made you happy. Because as much as you would deny it, he loved seeing the look of adoration in your eyes when he bought them.

“Yes I can, pretty girl. And no, I’m not.”

You just sighed and stuck your tongue out at him.

You two walked in comfortable silence. Today was a beautiful day. The sun was high in the sky, shining down. Soft white clouds decorated the blue sky and birds flew, putting on a show for all those watching.

As you admired the world around you, Iwazumi admired you.

He didn’t get many days off like this, and even when he did, you two usually opted to stay indoors.

Iwazumi’s olive green eyes wandered all over your figure. From your luscious hair to your spring dress. Iwazumi never understood how someone like you could be with someone like him.

And he probably never would.

But Iwazumi was thankful for it everyday. His life, mentality, happiness, and just overall being was so much better with you in it.

Iwazumi’s eyes landed on the familiar street sign and he frowned. He didn’t want to go home yet. He wanted to stay out and witness your beauty in the sun.

Iwazumi gently pulled at your pinky, getting your attention. The 5’10 college student’s ears were slightly red when you looked up at him.

“Hajj? What’s wrong?”

Iwazumi’s eyes landed on the park across the street.

“I don’t wanna go back yet, love.”

You nodded and adjusted your dress. “What do you want to do?”

Iwazumi looked down at you and your eyes sparkled. He had a feeling you knew what he wanted, but you were going to make him say it.

With a small smile, Iwazumi tugged you towards the park.

“Read to me under the sun.”

You laughed as you followed him, your eyes on his red ears. Seeing your boyfriend getting flustered was the favourite part of your day, and it happened so rarely that when it did, you couldn’t help but smile.

You and Iwazumi both reached the park. The park consisted of a large piece of land with a small children’s playground in the middle. Iwazumi led you to the other side of the park, away from the screaming children and the barking dogs.

Iwazumi stopped in a beautiful green patchy spot and you instantly sat down, fixing your dress and crossing your legs.

From the ground, you looked up at Iwazumi. The sun almost blinding you. You patted your lap and grinned at the wide smile that spread across Iwazumi’s face. The man instantly laid down, his head in your lap and his hands laced together on his chest.

You brought the book to your face, slightly further away so Iwazumi had a clear view of your face. You flipped through the first couple of pages and then cleared your throat, smiling for a second when your eyes met Iwazumi’s.

“While I was still in Amsterdam, I dreamed about my mother for the first time in years. I’d been shut up in my hotel for more than a week—”

Iwazumi was listening, he swear he was, but the way the sun shined on your skin, creating this beautiful glow that had allured him, had the words that slipped off your tongue uninterested.

Your free hand ran through Iwazumi’s dark hair, untangling the pieces. You read with a comfortable ease, having gotten used to reading aloud to Iwazumi. You could feel Iwazumi’s stare but you tried to ignore it.

After you had read almost two pages, you paused and your eyes flickered down.

Iwazumi’s olive green eyes shined as they looked up at you and you bit your lip, flustered at the intensity of his gaze.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Haji?”

“You’re so beautiful in the sun, my love.”

When you broke out into an embarrassed smile, Iwazumi’s heart clenched in his chest. He could stay like this forever. His head in your lap as you played with his hair, reading to him.

If there was a heaven, he knew that his would like this. With you staring down at him with a smile as the sun shined on your skin.

Iwazumi wondered if the rest of the park had fallen in love with you yet. If they too had been captured and blinded by your glow and beauty.

Iwazumi was so in love with you. He often wondered what he did to deserve you. You thought the same thing about him. What did you do in your past life to get someone like him?

Iwazumi brought his hand to your chin, gently rubbing your lips with his thumb.

This was it, Iwazumi thought. This is all I could ever want.

omg i’ve never written for iwa before. how exciting! i love him. i should write for him more.

taglist: @h-grangerstudies @iwasumi @snoozless @elektrosonix @bokuatsubro @ackerpotato @asterroidd @rinrinniesstuff @howcanyoubreathewithnozaire @addicedtoeverythinganime @uglystupidbxtch @qualitygiantshoepsychic @aoi-turtle @felixsamour

daddyjackfrost © 2021 | all content belongs to me, do not modify

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #hq prompts #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq iwaizumi #haikyuu iwazumi #iwazumi hajime #iwazumi x reader #iwazumi imagines #iwazumi x you #iwazumi fluff #iwazumi hcs

[donutloverxo]

Make me

*gif is not mine*

The donut series - Part 8

Note - Idk wtf this is... Lol! Hopefully I can complete this series before the year ends. Just 2 or 3 more parts now.

Thank you so so much to @firefly-graphics for the cute dividers💖💖

Summary - You move into the tower with Steve.

Warnings - 18+ only please, smut (m/f), soft dom Steve, daddy kink, captain kink, praise kink, orgasm denial, spanking, punishments, Steve is pushy and possessive, some angst, (lemme know if I missed any)

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 5.2k

Series masterlist

“What do you think you’re doing?!” You jerked when you heard Steve’s voice calling out to you, dropping your lipstick on your lap, your heart hammering in your chest.

You stared at his reflection in the dressing mirror. “God, Steve,” looking over your shoulder you glared at him, “Don’t you think you shouldn’t be sneaking up on me? Especially after everything that happened.”

His face immediately soften, muttering an apology to you, “But you’re not going out today.” He said in a tone that left no room for negotiation.

But you weren’t one of his agents or one to be bossed around. “And you get to tell me what to do, because?” folding your arms over your chest and mimicking his stance.

“Sweetheart, come on, don’t argue with me. It’s still dangerous for you out there.”

“What do you mean? I thought you arrested those guys. Who else would be after me?” you frowned.

He takes two long strides, standing before you and taking your hand in his “Clint has been interrogating them all night. They’ll crack soon enough and give up who they’re working for but we need to be careful till then.”

You sighed, “How long do you think it will be?”

“I don’t know, doll. Hopefully not too long.”

“Well, I can’t just stay locked up forever. Besides a locked door isn’t going to stop Hydra, I mean it didn’t the first time. So really what difference does it make if I’m in college or at home?”

“About that,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “how would you feel about moving into the Avengers tower?”

“What?” you blinked. You had heard of the Avengers living and working from the Avengers/Stark tower. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Steve would possibly live there as well, but for some reason it did. “For how long?”

“Uh, we can give it a try and see how it goes?” he hesitated. He should’ve asked you to move there as soon as you told him you felt unsafe. The whole incident could’ve easily been avoided.

“I mean I wouldn’t mind living there, I think,” you shrugged, “it’s you I’m worried about.”

“What do you mean?” he tilted his head to the side, like a cute little puppy.

You got up from the chair, looping your hands over his neck and playing with the little hair on the nape of his neck, “You’re so cute and clueless, baby,” you cooed.

He huffed at that, puffing out his chest to show you how ‘macho' he is. Completely capable of protecting his girl from big bad guys no matter what.

“I just felt the tower is so unlike you. It’s so...”

Modern--was the word you were looking for, but that seemed too on the nose so you tried to think of a better adjective. You had only ever been to the tower a few times. The first was to make a delivery, when you met Steve for the first time, and then a few times at parties and little get-togethers. It was strange to think that you were part of the Avengers inner circle now, especially if you’re going to be living with them.

“So what?” he wanted to know.

“Just so not you, Stevie. I can’t imagine you living there.”

“We should’ve moved long ago. As soon as you told me about the stalker. I should’ve taken it more seriously.”

“Hey,” you traced his sharp cheekbone, “it’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault. Except the ones who did the kidnapping,” you scrunched up your nose, “they’ll get what’s coming to them though, right?”

“Of course, they’ll never hurt you or anyone else ever again,” he promised, kissing the inside of your wrist.

You kept looking at your watch. A gift from your mum for your high school graduation. It had a vintage feel to it, the thin leather strap making your hand look to delicate, Steve had always said that he liked it the best. He always did like you looking small compared to him.

The elevator dinged, “Exactly four minutes.”

“Hm?” he asked, lacing his fingers with yours as he walked towards ‘his' apartment. Or the apartment that was supposed to be his.

Tony had offered him boarding there when the tower was reconstructed months ago. He thought about it but eventually said no upon seeing just how big the apartment was.

Hell he had a whole floor to himself, which was too extravagant for him. He was used to taking only what he needed, if that.

More than that though...

You caught him looking at you, sparing him a sweet smile that crinkled your sparkling eyes.

More than that he didn’t want to live in such a large space all alone.

He would never share that with anyone, they’d laugh at Captain America being too scared of being alone. When he had the love and adoration of the whole world, a second chance at life and everything one could need to be happy.

But he still couldn’t bear the deafening silence of his lonely apartment. He’d get home from work, switch on the television so he’d have something to talk about with his colleagues, sip on a beer. It didn’t necessarily get him drunk or even taste all that great but it made him feel normal.

He never had to think about being alone in a strange new world all that much since he was often too busy. But he absolutely would not have an entire floor to himself. He’d surely go crazy.

“Four minutes for the elevator to get up here from the ground floor. It’s so high,” you marvelled at the view the floor to ceiling windows gave you.

“Yeah. They really should put some music there. They used to, back in my day,” he shared.

He wasn’t afraid of talking about his past with you. You never made fun of him for it, but instead listened intently and nodded. At most you’d tease him a bit... but he kinda liked that.

He punched in the code to his apartment, telling it to you, “Your birthday,” he winked, “it’s changed every twenty-hour hours.”

“That seems a bit excessive. This place is like a fortress, I doubt anybody could break in.”

He held the door open for you as you entered. Surprised to find the apartment already furnished.

“How did they manage to do all this so soon?” you wondered. Running your hands on the leather of the couch in the middle of the living.

The dark couch went well with the hardwood floors. A tall bookshelf to the side, it felt almost like a study, your fears of it being too modern and minimalistic for Steve’s taste were null, too masculine for your taste though. It seemed a lot like Steve’s old apartment. “Needs a woman’s touch.”

“You can decorate it however you like,” he said, hugging you from behind, he propped his chin up on your head.

“I don’t know... I don’t have any experience decorating apartments...” your voice small, scared of not being able to live up to his expectations. “Certainly wouldn’t do as good a job as you did,” your back leaned into his front.

“I didn’t decorate this, honey,” he chuckled. “Tony hired an interior designer. A few months ago but I didn’t want to live here then. We can ask him to call her again and then you can talk to her.”

“No, I don’t want to cause trouble. And it’s not like we’re living here for long,” you shrugged.

“What do you mean?” his voice stiff and although you couldn’t look at him you just knew he was frowning.

“Isn’t it a bit too soon to move in together?”

“But we were already living together.”

You sighed, “Yeah, but making renovations seems too... permanent?”

“You don’t want us to be permanent?”

You turned around, your heart aching at even the thought of hurting him, “That’s not what I meant, love... Isn’t it weird to live where you work?”

“It’s better this way. I can get home to you sooner,” he argued.

“Well, I suppose that’s true.”

“Are you having second thoughts about us?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head, “It’s a bit intimidating, but nope, no second thoughts.”

“That’s good then.”

You often dreamt all things Steve ever since you started dating him. Marrying him, even having a little boy wearing a mini Captain America suit for Halloween who looked eerily similar to Steve. You called him James after Steve’s late friend, you hadn’t told him about that though.

This morning you were dreaming of being whisked away in Italy, having your wedding to him by lake Como. You were wearing a traditional forties style gown, much like the one your grandma wore at your wedding.

Scrunching your nose as you were pulled from your beautiful dream when you felt something wet on your cheek. Rubbing it away with your palm, you moaned.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Steve cooed, peppering kisses all over your face. Knowing that to be the best way to calm you before you snapped at him for waking you up so early.

You opened your eyes, rubbing your sleep away, “It’s still dark... I thought we agreed I’m doing school online,” you turned away from him, nuzzling your face into your pillow. “What time is it?”

“It’s five.”

“Pm?”

He snorted, “No. AM.”

“Oh my god, Steve!” you groaned, “What is wrong with you? That’s like...the middle of the night. Let me sleep in peace.”

“We have to train you. Come on I’ll teach you some self defense moves, it’ll be fun.”

“I doubt any amount of training will make me capable of fighting off hydra...”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t try,” he interrupted you, “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Maybe in the evening.”

“Morning is the best time to do it. Come on, it’ll be fun! Besides, we always do your thing.”

He did often let you pick the movie or drag him shopping so he could hold your bags and pay for your stuff. You knew he liked to work out and would like to have you do it with him. The only problem was--you literally couldn’t think of anything worse to do.

“Square your shoulders, honey,” he instructed as you followed, seeing an opening to punch him in his stomach, and because you were mad about being woken up at literally the crack of dawn you took it.

He managed to dodge it, obviously. And even had the nerve to be cocky about it as he smirked at you. “You’re so small, puppy,” he teased, patting your head.

You huffed, being almost a foot shorter than him. “Whatever.”

And then you recalled all the times you had wrestled your cousin, who was much bigger than you, when you were kids. Remembering a move that often worked on him.

You launched towards Steve, holding onto his midsection and trying to tackle him to the ground.

“Urgh!” you groaned but he refused to move even an inch.

Eventually you did give up, if only so you could stop embarrassing yourself. Helping, or rather just standing to the side and watching Steve as he punched the shit out of a bag.

“Go, Steve!” you cheered. Rubbing your thighs together at the sight of him all sweaty and of his bulging muscles. “You should bring me down here more often,” you sighed dreamily.

“Will do,” he smirked, pulling the velcro of his gloves, “Come on, it’s time to do some crunches, I’ll spot you.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, please,” you tried to run away, even though you knew it’d be of no use, but he effectively caught you and made you lie down on the mat. Giving you a goal of two sets of twenty frigging crunches.

“I hate you,” you grumbled. Willing yourself to pull your upper body up despite the slight pain in your side, moving up as Steve pecked your lips. To give you an ‘incentive’.

“Stop lying, I know you love me,” he smiled.

Lying back on the mat after your first set, on the verge of giving up but Steve kept insisting that you go on.

You looked down at him. His skin barely had a sheen of sweet, blond strands kissing his forehead. He still had an amber glow to his skin even as you got closer to the winter months.

“You’re staring, sweetheart,” he reminded you.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself.” Often getting lost in his beauty.

You smirked as you got a wicked idea, putting your legs over his, straddling his hips, “Have you ever wanted to do something in public?” you asked, as he simply stared up at you, completely dumbfounded. Rolling your hips against his, “I have, it’ll be fun and thrilling.”

“I... No,” he blinked, shaking his head, “We shouldn’t,” but even as he said it, he held onto your sides, pulling you closer to him. You giggled as you felt his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

“Oh my god, guys, come on.”

You yelped, holding onto Steve’s shoulders to keep from falling, looking to your side to see where the voice came from.

“We could come back if you want...” Natasha said. She didn’t look fazed by it at all, unlike her friend.

“No, we are not coming back! This is not what you use the gym for, Rogers.”

You looked at Steve, who was as red as a tomato, “Sorry,” he got up, helping you up as well, standing behind you to cover up his erection, he introduced you to his friend, “This is Sam.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sam gave you a nervous smile.

“We should get going,” Steve said, pushing you towards the exit. “That’s a sneaky way to get out of training,” he whispered in your ear as you walked back to the elevator, “It won’t work again,” pinching you butt, making you squeal.

“We’ll see.”

You hummed as you looked at your side of the closet, which was as big as your old living room, it looked as if you didn’t really have enough stuff to fill it out. You looked over at Steve’s side, even more empty... and “So boring,” you whispered under your breath.

“Right?” Tony nodded, as if agreeing with you.

Why he was there in the first place you didn’t know. You didn’t invite him, neither did Steve, he had said he just wanted to see how well you both were fitting in. With Steve gone for the most part of the past couple of days you were on your own to unpack everything.

Tony said he’d help you... but you had a feeling he was just snooping.

“What a grandfather sense of fashion he has,” he looked at your poor Steve’s shirts in disgust.

You took offense to that. “If anyone can pull it off, he can,” you huffed. Nobody insults your man.

“Really?” he quirked a brunette brow, “I don’t think so. I mean... I could probably. I can pull off anything,” he boosted.

“I mean, you could try them on if you like, but they’re probably too big for you,” you taunted him in mock sympathy.

“Ouch, guess I deserve that,” he said as he went through the box you had stuffed your make up in.

“What are you even looking for?” you pulled it away from him, glaring at him, “Don’t you have a company to run or a world to save?”

“Hey, Steve was the one who asked me to keep you company,” he held his hands up.

“Really?”

“Well, he asked Nat, which is basically the same as asking me. So I volunteered. He wasn’t happy about that though,” you smacked his hand away when he tried to pry into another box.

“Why would you volunteer?” Steve may have good intentions but having the billionaire hovering over you was only making you irritated.

“... to hang out I guess,” he confessed when he couldn’t really think of anything else to say.

You giggled, “If you wanted to be my friend you could’ve just said so!”

“No... no,” he shook his head, “I didn’t say anything about wanting to be friends.”

He was just curious about you. To figure out what Caps taste is. And to maybe get some hot goss about him. Not that being friends with you sounds like the end of the world, you certainly weren’t as insufferable as Cap.

“What would you like to do, fren?” you fluttered your lashes at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be packing?”

“I’m bored of being cooped up. Lets do something fun!”

Steve smiled, a wide cheeky one, as he thought of all the things he could do with you and spend the remainder of his day with you. His stomach doing somersaults in giddiness.

“I could get used to this,” he said to himself before calling out for you. The thought of coming home to you everyday, so domestic and romantic. His smile dropping as he looked for you in the bedroom, the boxes sat scattered and unopened. All over the room.

He knew you were in the apartment before he even heard your voice, his super senses alerting him, “Oh, Steve!” you perked up. Giggling as you put your shopping bags down. “So, I might’ve made an oopsie.”

Plumping down on the fluffy bed, large enough to fit two Steve’s and still have room for you, taking off your real Louboutins. Since Steve gave you his card, you decided you wanted to treat yourself to them. But they were equally as uncomfortable as the fake ones.

“What?” he quirked a brow, his hands on his hips as he despondently shook his head.

“Well, Tony pointed out that your wardrobe is kinda...” you thought of a adjective that wouldn’t be offensive, biting your lip as you went through your vocabulary, “Old-ish?” when he didn’t reply you kept going, “and I might’ve maxed out your card... Tony offered to pay! But it didn’t feel right,” you jutted your bottom lip out, pushing your titts up together in an attempt to look cute.

“You went out? When I specifically asked you not to?” a rage simmering in his voice--which you didn’t quite like. Because who the fuck was he to talk to you like that?

“I had Iron Man with me. I think I was okay. You’re being annoying,” you rolled your eyes.

“Am I?” his hands now folded over his chest.

And you’d be frustrated with him acting as if he was your dad, sure you called him daddy but that didn’t give him the right to have authority over you while you weren’t naked, if he didn’t look so fucking good. With the veins propping on his forearms, light blond hair littered over it, his watch strapped on his wide wrist. You only stared him down in response.

“It would’ve been better if you had went alone instead. Tony is nothing but trouble,” he scoffed.

“I thought you wanted me to make friends with your team,” you countered.

“Are my clothes too embarrassing for you? Am I too old for you?” he tried to keep his voice from wavering, to hide some of his vulnerability, but he couldn’t, not to you anyway. “Is that why you didn’t tell your family about me?”

You gaped at him. That was the reason you hadn’t told your mom. She’d point out the obvious reasons, as she had just like you expected, him being from the forties would just make things harder for you both.

“I - ” you started but then stopped, “I like your clothes as they are. If you don’t like what I got you then we can return them. I just wanted to do something nice for you,” getting up and then walking towards him, kissing his jaw and stroking his arms to calm him, “you never think about yourself, I wanted to do that for you.”

“I wish that was true, doll,” he replied gravely. His lips pressed in a thin line as he looked at your sweet face, “But you have to apologize. For not following my orders.”

You snorted, taking a step back, “For the last time--you cannot order me around. I don’t care that you think you know what’s best.”

“Really? I’ve been working my ass off on trying to find the guys that did this to you and you are just hell bent on making my life harder,” he let out a dry chuckled, “say your sorry.”

“Make me.”

You regretted the words as soon as they came out of you, before you knew it he had you hauled over his lap, ready to spank an apology out of you.

“Ah!” you yelped at the unceremonious blow.

You did like it when he spanked you, you truly didn’t know why, but it made your pussy quiver. And honestly he didn’t do it enough. Only doing it once when you were late and weren’t able to call him.

Slapping your covered bottom a second time before stopping when he heard you moan, slipping a palm under your dress, being purposely slow to draw it out for you, to torture you in his own way, he pushed your panties aside, swirling your juices around your lips.

“You’re fucking enjoying this,” he growled.

You whimpered when he rolled your bundle of nerves between his fingers, nodding your head, already feeling yourself tethering on the edge.

“That’s too bad... I’ll have to be more creative,” he said as he withdrew his hand, making you writhe in his hold.

You looked at him over your shoulder, wiggling your butt to try to entice him before huffing when he simply stared at you, stoic as ever, “You’re no fair!”

“I’m doing this to be fair, sweetheart. I don’t enjoy it anymore than you do.”

A blatant, clear-cut, shameless lie. You both knew it. He loved thinking of ways to ‘punish' and executing them.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he placed you over his lap, your back to his broad front, his fingers working on the zipper of your dress. Pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.

“I’m going to fuck you till you admit that you’re sorry,” since he had no patience for insolence, placing a dubiously sweet and innocent kiss to your cheek.

“In your dreams,” you retorted but then shivered in his arms you let him roll your panties down your thick thighs, lifting up your hips to help him out, leaving you completely bare against him.

You bashfully rubbed your face against his button up, you felt his heart beating steadily, as his hands shamelessly explored your body. Grabbing and kneading at your breasts and hips, tracing the stretch marks on your thighs.

“Aren’t you gonna take your clothes off too?” you made yourself small.

You weren’t afraid of being so vulnerable before him, you had gotten used to it because you trusted him enough to not be intimidated by his perfect physique, but right now your whole body felt hot as you just wanted to cover up and give yourself some sort of modesty. Even if your desires and yearning for him was anything but modest.

“No, honey,” he answered, his fingers parting your weeping lips as he looked down to get a glance of it over your shoulders. Licking his lips at the sight of it, “Such a pretty pussy, doll. And all mine,” he rasped as he prodded at your hole with his middle finger before pushing it in, “Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you nodded, trying to roll your hips over the erection pressing into your back.

He stilled your movements by holding onto your hips, warning you to stop, “Forever?” he urged.

“Yes, forever, god, just do something!” you wailed. Because whatever he was doing was not enough to satisfy you.

He hummed in thought, “I’m not a young guy. I prefer to take my time,” he pushed another finger in, stretching you out by viscously scissoring your cunt, all the while kissing your hair and your face.

He wasn’t someone who took only what he needed.

He didn’t need you.

Although it often seem to him as if you were like air--impossible to live without. He didn’t need you to live.

But he wanted you. More than anything else in the whole world.

He knew he shouldn’t keep you. Only being with you for a few months and he had almost gotten you killed but there was no way he could help himself.

“I’m selfish,” he whispered to you, pausing his ministrations to ruin your climax, “I’m selfish with you. I’m not as good as everyone makes me out to be,” he confessed. He didn’t know if it was right to do so, but he didn’t want to even consider the other option of letting you go.

“I figured out long ago that you weren’t all that good and boring,” you cried as he stopped again. Your hand holding onto his wrist as your sensitive cunt gushing juices of arousal all over your brand new sheets. “But I’m good, aren’t I, daddy?” you whispered, sultrily. “You can make me come--I’m always good to you. I promise I’ll suck you off after.”

“No.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at his rejection, he had never done that to you. To deny you so easily and bluntly. You thought he was the one person in this whole world who would do anything for you, you could ask for the moon and he’d probably try to give it to you.

Was he really that mad at you?

Your bottom lip quivering as tears welled up in your eyes, “You’re so mean,” you accused, loudly sniffing as you felt a tear drop down your cheek.

He blinked, his fingers stopping their assault on your swollen pussy as he took in your words. You could stomp all over his heart, even shoot him, do anything you want to him, he’d forgive you for it but he absolutely could not bear to see you cry.

“No, pup,” he cooed, gently removing his fingers as you whined, he kissed your forehead as he hushed you, “it’s okay, you’re okay, shush,” one hand under your neck and circling another under your knees, cradling your naked body close to his chest like a babe, he rocked you back and forth in an effort to sooth you.

“I’m sorry I was mean,” he whispered into your hair.

“You broke your pinky promise,” you held onto his neck. You were angry with him and at the situation but your body craved the comfort his gave you. “I can’t trust you now.”

His heart ached at that, “Don’t say that,” he furrowed his brows, kissing you all over your face, “I didn’t yell, puppy.”

“But you got mad,” you puffed your cheeks.

“I didn’t promise to not get mad. That’s a bit unrealistic...”

“No, you promised--no yelling, curing or meanness. Not calling me your 'good girl' or letting me come is mean! And cruel,” you reminded him, whimpering into his chest.

“Right, right. I’m sorry, that’s my fault then. I got a bit carried away... I thought you liked that you know?”

You hummed. You did like it when Steve was a bit rough, but you always knew he loved you with all his heart because you could see it in his eyes. The way he’d praise you for being so good for him, calling you his one and only, that he could never love anyone as much as he loves you.

But when he didn’t say that to you, when he refused to call you good, your soft heart couldn’t take the rejection.

“I do... but...” you hid your face in his neck.

“But what?” he urged you.

“But I also like knowing that you love me,” you spoke against his prickly stubble.

“Of course I love you. I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t, even for a second. You’re my sweet girl, forever and always,” he promised, rocking you some more, until your breathing becomes normal and steady again.

“You’re my daddy forever too,” you giggled, “or Captain, whatever you prefer.”

“If I had to pick I’d say Steve,” he told you. While it was nice to have you call him sweet name, nobody really uses his given name anymore. To have you call him that in your sweet girly voice, reminding him that he could be just Steve with you, was exhilarating.

“Okie, Stevie then.”

“Right, how about I draw you a bath? Afterwards we can go over the things you got me,” he perked up.

“You don’t have to wear them if you’re not comfortable.”

“I know, pup, but I want to. I want to get with the times. Can’t have anyone making fun of you for dating an old man,” he teased, swaying you some more.

“Hm, but...”

“But what?”

“I... um... still wanna come, so bad,” you whispered softly, rubbing your thighs together. “Will you make me come, Stevie?”

“Yes,” he replied immediately, “how would you like me to?”

“I wanna come around you,” you stated as heat rushed to your cheeks. “And I am sorry. I probably should’ve told you before going with Tony.”

“I know you’ve been cooped up, honey. I’m going to take a few days off so we can do whatever you like,” he said, working on unbuckling his belt, “But before that, I need to take care of my sweet girl, just like she does for me.”

Your hands feebly pulling at his button up, he took your queue and rid himself of it, along with his undershirt as your hands explored the expanse of his broad chest.

Pulling his length out, he manoeuvred your body till you over him, “Guide me in, sweetheart,” he instructed as you whimpered.

Grabbing the base of his cock, coating your slick in his pre ejaculate, you slowly sunk down on him. Not being able to fit all of him in, because he was as thick as a can of pringles, and oh so long.

You looked at him, too anxious to disappoint him, “Can’t fit it all in,” you whined.

“It’s okay, doll,” he stroked your back. “We’ll make it fit some other day,” he pecked your lips, lying on his back and pulling you down with him he snaked a hand between your bodies, working your clit up with his hand till he felt you convulsing and clenching around his length, gripping him so tight as you squirmed in his hold.

Whispering sweet nothings to you as you calmed down from your high. You wanted to do something for him too, to make him come, so you grinded your hips over his, shivering at the sick squelching sounds your joined sexes made.

But he stopped you by gripping your hips, “How about you just keep me warm for now?” he asked.

You hummed, “It’ll be hard...” to have him just stay inside you, and you knew he could stay hard for hours if he wanted to, and for you to not be able to do anything about it...

“I know it will be. But you’re my good girl, you can do that for me, right?” he tipped your chin up to make you look at him.

“Yes, Stevie,” you agreed.

Laying your head back on his chest, muttering a ‘sorry' whenever you accidentally clenched around him and following his orders like a good girl would.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#the donut series #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n