#and this sets him up to be in the middle if the dust bowl in the 30's (a historical period I find much more interesting than the 20's) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moominsuki · 1 year

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✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — anyone would be silly not to love you, katsuki.

࿄ ! warnings — f!reader, no warnings. so fluffy it’s sickeningly sweet.

katsuki knows that he’s a little difficult to deal with sometimes. to love is a different story altogether.

from a young age, he never really cared about what others thought about him. he wasn’t interested in friends, tolerated his family and he didn’t care for women at all. and at 16, he deemed this to be a perfect way to live.

well, now he was 22. who knew that loneliness would hit him in tumultuous spouts of self loathing and bitterness? not him, that’s for sure. he sees his friends getting into relationships and while he’s thankful that they always include him in things despite his brash attitude and sharp tongue, there’s an embittered taste on his tongue that lingers when he sees kirishima and his girlfriend.

katsuki doesn’t think he’s particularly unattractive either and women do approach him; unfortunately, they’re left sour by his mannerisms and deadpan tone of voice. at 18, he didn’t care that girls didn’t really understand him. but four years is a heck of a long time to change your view on things: things being love.

you tell him that anyone would be silly not to love him.

katsuki has known you since he was a stupid, brooding adolescent kid. he thinks it’s a blessing and a curse that you came into his life so forcefully, uprooting yourself and plopping your ass into the middle of it. he’d never tell you but sometimes when he’s on blind dates with the next girl that denki thinks is “the one,” all he can think about is you: especially when his forgettable date orders your favourite, barbecued duck noodle soup, to be exact and he remembers when you made that for him on his 18th birthday.

when you come over to his place to cook dinner and watch a film, you ask about his date and katsuki alludes to the failure of it and that she also “eats really noisily,” a pet peeve of the blond’s. you frown cutely, like you always do when he tells you about the flings that don’t go well.

“well, anyone would be silly not love you, katsuki,” you’d always say and it was routinely with the way he’d stand behind the kitchen island and you’d smile at him, eyes crinkled and shining, making a raspy breath hitch in his throat.

and when dinner was ready, you’d set out both your bowls of dumplings and duck and sometimes you’d put on a netflix show that you really like (katsuki thinks netflix sucks but for you, he’d watch paint dry); however, this time, you opt to just talking, catching up on your day and the plans for the week.

“y’know, blind dates aren’t all they’re cracked up to be anyway. statistically speaking, your soulmate is probably someone you’ve known all your life,” you say candidly, slurping noisily and katsuki watches you thoughtfully before scoffing, all bemused.

“i speak to maybe four women, including you and my ma. great odds,” and you giggle at that, making his heart jump while some soup dribbles down your chin.

“there’s someone out there for everyone, okay! and who are the other women besides me and your mom?” you raise a brow jokingly and katsuki lifts a hand to softly flick at your head.

“just coworkers. like i said, the odds ain’t great,” he grumbles and you rub at the spot on your head before resting your hand on top of his and lifting it back up to press it to your warm cheek.

“you have me! am i not enough woman for you?”

katsuki’s eyes soften and his thumb subconsciously rubs across your skin.

“plenty ‘nuff woman for me. don’t know who else could put up with me,” he says earnestly and both your eyes widen almost comically at the words that slipped out of his mouth.

he’s about to dejectedly pull his hand away when you slightly lean into his touch, “it’s like i said. anyone would be silly not to love you,” and you angle your face so your plump lips kiss into his thumb.

you decide not to comment on the reddening tips of his ears and the pink dusting across the golden specks of freckles on his cheekbones, to save him from the embarrassment.

maybe it’s the years from knowing katsuki that allows you to always say the 8 words: from seeing him transition from a brash, harsh, emotionally constipated 17 year old who was at least three inches shorter than you (he would vehemently deny the passing of time in which you would tower over him) to an almost 23 year old man, who picks you up from school most days, who’d wash your makeup off when you got too heavy handed with the liquor, who knows your order at the local chinese off by heart and who is now definitely almost a foot taller than you.

before katsuki washes up, he shyly asks you to stay the night - in his own roundabout way of being timid, which includes his heavy voice and a seldom amount of eye contact - and you normally do sometimes, with him sleeping on the couch while you take up his kingsize bed. your heart shakes a little in your chest but of course, you smile in reply and nod. you and him both know that this time, it’s different.

“we can stay in my bed… if you want,” mumbles the man gruffly and this time, you bite back a smile. dealing with katsuki meant that you didn’t like to fluster him at times where he was opening up to you, albeit in small, crumbly pieces.

you nod again and reply.

“of course.”

it’s 9:35pm on the dot when you both settle into the duvet of his huge bed and katsuki is kind of stiff, to say the least, and there’s a metaphorical wall between you two. you think he’s staring straight up to the ceiling, if his breathing pattern and the slight glow of his red eyes told you anything.

“is it okay if we cuddle?” you whisper, turning to your side to face him and you think you did something right because he breaks out of his self-doubting stupor and after a few moments, opens up his arms to your smaller body as a leg wraps around his waist and an arm drapes across his chest.

“you okay, katsuki?” you whisper again. “did i do something?” and he can hear the pout and the furrowed brow in your voice.

katsuki all but he wraps an arm around to pull you closer, “no. just go to sleep, dumbass.”

you pull yourself up and he panics a little but he can slightly make out the smug grin on playing on your lips and your bright eyes in the dark as you lean on his chest to be level with his face.

“i promise no one under the age of 45 goes to bed at half 9. you’re so lucky you have me,” and before he can ask what you mean on “having you,” you press your lips onto his and it’s ended before it even started. the taste of his mouthwash and your chapstick lingers and he’s stiff all over again.

“anyone would be silly not to love you, even if you act like an old man,” you sigh, bonking your head softly onto his and he inhales deeply, playing with the hem of his shirt draped on your body.

“don’ need anyone else to love me when i have you, right?”

he can see the smile that reaches your eyes, crinkles and all.

“you might be right about that,” you hum and katsuki leans up to nose around your jaw before locking lips with you properly.

katsuki knows that he’s a little difficult to deal with sometimes. to love is a different story altogether. but when you look at him like that: like he has the world on his fingertips, encased in ribbon and inscribed in lettering addressed just for you, he decides that he’ll never accept anything but the best.

even if he is a little bit of a grandpa. but you’d be silly not to love him.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #not proofread #i love friends to lovers my heart is bursting #lowkey ooc but who cares #✎𓂃stamped: (my hero academia)。°˖⌕#༝˚૮ .♡ katsuki.

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nicestgirlonline · 6 months

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Let Me Hear You Scream

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT AHEAD! 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI! language, threatening situations, DUB CON, horror elements

Word count: 3.8k

Summary: It’s the 90s so you actually answer the phone when you’re watching movies

a/n: Happy Halloween yall!!!! Still working on other projects but really wanted to get something out for Halloween! This was for @witchywithwhiskey’s Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon! the prompts I picked were Scream and “I’m your boyfriend now” Hope you all enjoy!!!! Thanks for reading, I’d love your feedback! Reblogs and comments are love <3

1993. A sleepy suburban town, where nothing exciting ever happens. Friday night.

Your friends were all going out to Wanda’s party, but you were stuck housesitting for your aunt. Your mom had promised you would house sit weeks ago, so you couldn’t get off the hook. It was a big empty house, more rooms than your aunt could ever need. Most were filled up with storage and dust bunnies.

You tried to make the best of the boring night-in. You rented some Meg Ryan movies with plans to completely veg out. You ordered an extra large pizza with all of your favorite toppings and raided your aunts pantry for snacks.

You glanced down at your shirt and saw red. Pizza sauce! Blooming red circle right in the center of your cream sweater. You let out a huff of frustration. Some Friday night.

You changed into comfy nightwear--a baby blue cotton gown that brushed the very top of your knees, along with a pair of fluffy bunny slippers for good measure. You settled back down in front of the TV.

RING. RING. RING.

You picked up the phone, squeezing it between your ear and shoulder as you carried your snacks over to the kitchen.

“Hello,” you used your best fake customer service voice. Your aunt had asked you to take down any messages. She must have a new boyfriend she was hoping would call. You wait for a response but all you can hear is low breaths through the receiver. “Hello?” You try again

“Is this Sidney?” The voice was weirdly distorted and hard to place. It was deep, clearly a man’s voice.

“Sorry, wrong number dude.” You hung up before he could let another word out. You set the phone down by the cradle and go back to making your snacks. You got out the big popcorn bowl.

The phone rang out again. “Hello?” You answered. You really hadn’t expected to be fielding this many phone calls.

“Hey. Did I call you earlier?” It was the same strange voice. You blew some air through your lips, how annoying.

“Sidney’s not here. Have a good night--”

“Aw man. She must have given me a fake number. I don’t mean to bother you over and over tonight.” He sighed, sounding very apologetic.

“No worries. Have a good night.”

“Wait, wait. I like the sound of your voice.”

You paused. Was it totally weird to just chat with this guy? Yeah. But what harm could it be? You felt a bit of a flutter in your stomach. You never had talked to a stranger over the phone like this. It felt clandestine! You decided to go with it.

“Better than Sidney’s?” You asked, trying to make your voice sound as flirty as possible. You heard him hum approval.

“Much better than…let’s not talk about her. What are you doing tonight?” There was something very familiar about his voice. There was a crackle and static that made it so you couldn’t quite make it out. It must be a shitty connection.

“I was having a movie night. I’m making some snacks right now.” You started to curl the phone cord around your finger.

“What are you watching, Pumpkin? Something scary?”

“No way. I hate scary movies.”

“Especially not when you’re alone right?”

“Uh - um - I’m not alone. Actually.” You lied. How did he know you were alone? Was he just guessing?

“Scary movies are always scarier when you’re all alone, in a big empty house, that’s in the middle of nowhere,” he continued.

A shiver went down your spine. That was a bit too accurate. But there's no way he could possibly know where you were. It was a phone call!

“I just don’t like them. It's either some creepy slasher stabbing some big boobed blonde through her white t-shirt or a ghost that's a metaphor for trauma. No thank you,” you sighed.

“I think you’re being a little hard on them. Maybe if you watched them with a guy to cling to you’d like them more. Do you have a boyfriend?”

There it was. Obviously the alone comment was him trying to set the mood.

“Why do you want to know? Already over Sidney?” You teased him.

“Answer the question.” He was very serious. You didn’t like the tone he had.

“Yes, I do. Are you going to hang up?” You lied again, trying to call his bluff.

“You don’t have a boyfriend. What are you wearing? Something cute and virginal? What about your underwear?” You pulled the phone away from your ear in shock. You were officially too skeeved out. This wasn’t some poor guy who got slipped a fake number. He was a weirdo!

“Ok perv, I’m over this. Bye.”

“I wouldn’t hang up Y/N.” His voice was suddenly hostile. He spat each syllable out filled with hatred. Your blood ran cold. Your heart started to race. How would he possibly know your name?

“Is this a prank? Not very funny. Is this you Tony?” Your voice shook with fear.

“Who’s Tony? That your boyfriend?” He snarled.

“This is a really bad joke. Did someone put you up to this? Scott? Knock it off now!”

“Jesus you’ve got a lot of men in your life. Are you trying to make me jealous or something? I don’t like sharing.”

“I’m serious, this is a bad joke, so just give it up already.” You cried out, you looked around, making sure you were still totally alone.

“I don’t give up so easily. Do you, Pumpkin? Do you give it up to any guy who looks in your direction? I bet you do, you slut. That's why you're talking to a guy you don’t know while you’re all alone.”

“I’m hanging up, I already told you I’m not alone. My boyfriend is here! He’s big and he plays football. S-so don’t call back ok?” You tried to sound as forceful as possible but your lips wobbled and you tripped over your words.

“Pumpkin, you’re lying to me. You’re all alone in that big house in the middle of nowhere, wearing that skanky nightgown. I can see your nipples poking through this whole time. You’re so turned on by a psycho on the phone, huh?”

You let out a scream. You slammed the phone down, hanging it up. You started to spin a circle looking at all the windows, trying to see if you could see somebody watching you. You ran to the front door to make sure they were locked. You went window by window locking them and shutting the curtains. You took a chair from the kitchen and dragged it in front of the door, jamming it beneath the door knob.

RING RING RING RING

You looked around, trying to remember where all of the doors were in the house. You spun around running to the kitchen entrance. You double checked the lock and put the chain on the door. You slid down the door with your back pressing against it trying to catch your breath.

This wasn’t real. This had to be some fucked up prank. The guys were all too hyped up for Halloween and wanted to get a scare out of you. The ringing stopped and you heard the voicemail click, your aunt's outgoing message began to play.

“You screening your calls, skank? You’re gonna die, you little whore! I’m gonna see what your insides look like --” You picked up the phone just to end the message and slammed it back down. As you scampered away it fell down, swinging from the cord. You take off up the stairs, stumbling up the stairs.

You dash into the guest room you had been staying in. You quickly locked the door. Your hands were shaking still. How was this happening?

The window started to jiggle. You could hear the groaning old wood start to slide. With nothing better to arm yourself with you grabbed a pillow and started to wildly smack the intruder with all you could.

“Whoa whoa whoa, it’s me -- it’s me!” Bucky Barnes, your classmate, was gripping the window sill, flabbergasted from the pillow. You hadn’t even had time to register who it was before you attacked.

“Bucky? What the fuck are you doing here?” You demanded. This proved to you it had to be some kind of a prank. Why else would Bucky Barnes, the moody guy from your film class be climbing up to your room.

“Well, when you said you were busy tonight I thought I could just surprise you? Like a grand romantic gesture or something? Can you um, let me in? It's actually kind of cold.” He was shivering out there. He looked so earnest it tugged on your heart just a bit.

You motioned for him to come in. He heaved his body up, awkwardly crawling through the tight window then falling to the ground. He sprang back up quickly, smiling at you.

“Is this a prank? Are you in on this with the other guys or something?” You crossed your arms.

“Um, other guys? Are there other guys here? I thought I was being original.” He peered around you as if to look for them. You rolled your eyes.

“The phone calls Bucky. I’m not joking around.”

“What phone calls? I’ve been driving all night to get here from campus, then shimmying up some ivy. Haven’t exactly had any time to stop at a payphone. You know what. This was a bad idea, I can see that, I’ll just leave.” He sheepishly put his hands in his pockets as he crouched down to leave the way he came.

“No, no wait!” You grabbed him, keeping him from going outside. If it wasn’t Bucky then there was still a psycho out there! “I don’t know what's going on, but this weird guy kept calling me, and he was watching me! Like I think he was outside the house or something.”

“Calm down, calm down. I was just outside. There's nobody out there. It was probably just a prank call.”

He started to rub your back with slow soothing circles. It was intimate in a way you weren’t used to from Bucky. He was the quiet one, never really hung out unless Steve was around. His palm pressed into your lower back, holding you closer to him. His other hand cupped the back of your head, guiding you into the crook of his neck.

“You’re getting so worked up. Maybe you should just lie down.” He shushed you as you tried desperately to explain it wasn’t a prank call. He guided the two of you down to the bed. He laid down next to you.

“Bucky…why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you, I thought you knew…isn’t it obvious how I feel about you?”

Your head was spinning. Bucky liked you? He barely even talked to you! When he casually asked if you were going to Wanda’s party you assumed it was just small talk. He had grunted and left the second you told him you were busy.

“I think I should call the cops about this--”

“I’m here aren’t I? I’ll keep you safe.” His lips connected with yours silencing you from responding. His kiss was eager, but still so gentle. He slowly moved his lips against yours, basking in the taste of you. He took his time and slowly you could feel his tongue ghosts against your bottom lip, looking for entrance.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, the shock, or maybe Bucky was just an extremely good kisser, but you quickly fell under the spell of the kiss. You let yourself get lost kissing him, trying to forget the phone call prankster that had been terrorizing you.

Fear was still racking through your body, but Bucky felt safe. You tangled your hands in his hair bringing him closer. His hand slowly traced up and down your leg. Both his hands grasped your legs, essentially pinning you down. You felt a cool air waft over your thighs as his fingers gently crept beneath your nightgown.

He cupped you over your underwear, grabbing the elastic and letting it snap back against your skin. You finally broke free of the kiss to gasp. He sat back on his ankles, his hand still toying with your panties.

“Bucky, I--”

“Shhh it's ok. I’m here to save the day. No one's gonna hurt you while I’m around.” He pushed aside your panties and started to slowly circle your clit. You whined as he circles you again and again, the pleasure rushing through you and pushing every thought of terror out of your brain.

He pressed his thumb against your clit and dipped his fingers inside of you. He curled his fingers, dragging more moans out of you. As he fucked you with his fingers, you tilted your hips up for more delicious friction.

“That's it my brave girl, Bucky’s here for you,” he murmured above you. He spoke with such hard conviction. His eyes were intensely boring into yours, nearly unblinking. He was no longer softly in the throws of passion. He was a man on a mission.

He kept pumping his fingers, he brought his other hand up from your leg to palm himself through his jeans. He groaned as he adjusted himself and went back to work on you. His other hand circling around your inner thigh, moving your leg up to his shoulder.

“Bucky, please, please,” you babbled as the pleasure began to mount and mount. It was nearly unbearable as you chased your release, grinding your hips up and down on his hand, riding his fingers towards that sweet relief.

“Yes, you’re doing so well, you’re perfect.” He brought his lips to your neck and began to suck at your sensitive spot. You let out a cry of pleasure as your climax flowed over you. You clamped your legs together, biting down on your lip as another cry came out.

You took a moment to catch your breath, Bucky was still nibbling on your neck. You grabbed his face and brought his lips back to yours. He eagerly responded, his lips enveloping yours.

You grabbed the underwear that you were still wearing and rolled it down your body to fling them off. You sat up and grabbed at Bucky until you found his belt. You fumbled, trying to unbuckle it. Bucky's hands quickly found yours and he brought them together, kissing both your palms. He unbuckled the belt on his own. Removing it without ceremony or flourish. He then yanked his jeans and underwear down.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“I want you so badly, Bucky,” you moaned.

He let out a strangled gasp that turned to laughter. You tilted your head at the reaction. He didn’t sound exactly happy, it was more sinister.

“I just have waited so long to hear you say that to me. I’m so happy right now,” he nearly giggled. He giddily took off his jacket, tossing it to the ground.

“Keep me distracted Bucky, ok?” You asked as you hitch your nightgown up to your waist.

“Oh yes, anything for you, Pumpkin.” He had a devilish smirk on his face as he pressed his lips to your navel, slowly kissing his way up. He grabbed your nightgown and finished taking it off. Tossed it to the side with the pile of his clothes.

He made his way up your abdomen before groping your chest with a satisfied hiss. He squeezed you roughly, making you squeak. He latched his lips onto your breast. You let out a gasp as he lightly bit down. He tended thoroughly to each breast, his wicked tongue teasing at your pebbled nipples until you were a moaning puddle.

He grasped his cock, stroking it a few times before guiding it to your folds. He brushed the head of his cock up and down your cunt, teasing it out. He pressed his forehead against yours.

“You really mean it, right? You want me?” he asked desperately.

“Yes --” Before another word could escape your lips, he entered you. His whole body shivered. He thrust the tip of his head in, easing in and out until he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned as the stretch burned in pleasure and pain.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he moaned, the pace he had set was blistering. You gripped his shoulders to keep yourself anchored as he hammered into you. “You’re so tight, so tight fuuuck me.”

He thrust over and over, using the heel of his hand to keep working at your clit. You scratched your hands down his back as his pumps kept hitting the perfect spot. It was torturous pleasure as he kept working up and down your clit, not giving you a moment of respite.

You came again, your body seizing up as you cried out and then falling limp, boneless back down to the bed. Bucky grabbed your hips, pulling your lower body off the bed as he raced for his own release. The slapping sounds of your bodies filled the room along with his deep, gutural breaths.

“Yes, yes, you’re mine, you’re mine, I finally have you, finally, finally…” he babbled as he slowed his pace as he fucked out his climax.

XXX

You curled next to Bucky in the big fluffy guest bed. Both of you were happily satisfied. All thoughts of strangers on the phone were gone from your head. Now it was filled with what just happened.

Hooking up with Bucky? You’d never considered it before. You weren’t sure why, he was so very cute, you thought as you gazed at his face. His eyes were dreamily staring back at you, that big smile had not left his face yet.

“So if you want to like, hang out, I have snacks and movies. We can go curl up on the couch and just completely let our brains rot.” You traced tiny circles on his chest, feeling pretty confident he’d want to stick around.

“I’d be down for a little romcom night, as long as you’re there.” He affectionately tapped your nose.

“Good because that's all I’ve got!”

The two of you got back into a semblance of your outfits, you pulled your nightgown back on, and Bucky pulled on his boxers and the white undershirt he was wearing. You snagged his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. He hummed his approval and kissed you on the cheek.

You grabbed him by the hand and pulled him along down the stairs.

“You can go grab the popcorn, I’ll put the tapes in.” You directed Bucky towards the kitchen as you made your way towards the living room.

You pass the chairs jammed in front of the doors, and you remember your panic.

You shuddered--what a mean prank to pull. What kind of psycho talks to people like that?

You slipped your arms into Bucky's jacket to wrap yourself in it. It smelled sharp and sweet from his body wash and cologne blending together. You stuck your hands in the pockets, only to feel something heavy and tube shaped. You pulled it out, curious, turning it over in your hands a few times to investigate.

It was a long cylindrical looking microphone. You assumed it was some sort of film equipment, but why would Bucky bring that along?

“Hello?” You spoke into the mic. But instead of your own voice, the same distorted, crackling voice from the phone came out.

You dropped it. It was like a hot iron in your hand.

You realized Bucky must have heard you too. Your head snapped towards the kitchen. He was walking slowly towards you, a huge chef’s knife from the kitchen was now in his hands.

“Bucky what the hell is this?” You asked, slowly backing away from him.

“I…can explain.” His grip on the knife tightened and he raised his hands in the air as if in surender, never slowing his pace towards you.

“No, I think you need to leave.” You covered your body with your arms, trying not to trip over the furniture.

“No, no, no you’re misunderstanding --” He was getting closer to you, he reached his arms out to try and grab you.

“Leave me alone!” You screamed out as you broke into a run. You made a mad dash to the front door. Bucky was close behind you.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” He cried out as you fumbled with all the locks. Your hands were shaking, you tried to remove the chain from the door but it wasn’t moving fast enough.

Bucky's arm wrapped around your waist and yanked your body into his. His hard bulge poked at your ass.

“No!!” you cried out as you started to thrash around. You quickly stilled as the sharp point of the knife began to dig into your throat.

“Let’s calm down ok. I think you’re getting too worked up again.”

“B-Bucky, just say that it’s a prank. This was all a big prank. I won’t tell anyone. Just put the knife down please.” You try desperately to reason with him. He lets out an unamused grunt.

He began to drag you away from the door. You strained your neck as far as you could to keep the pressure from the knife as minimal as possible.

“You weren’t supposed to find out. Now it’s all ruined. Fuck. Fuuuck!” He growled. Clearly enraged he started to grapple you down to the floor.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You whimpered, tears oozing from the corners of your eyes. Rolling down your cheeks in huge streaks.

“You don’t get it. You never noticed me. All I wanted was for you to notice me. I just had to grease the wheels a little bit, put on a show to make you see…that I’m the guy for you.” He looked crazed. He moved the knife from your neck to your cheek. He caressed it against your cheeks like a lover's hand.

“Bucky please…put down the knife.”

“You’re misunderstanding me, you’re trying to run away! That’s why I have the knife because you need to listen to me. You always listen to the guy with the biggest tool in the room huh? You thought I was Tony. Does he call you up at night a lot or something? Huh?!”

You were just whimpering as he ranted above you. The blunt side of the knife was pressed against your cheek, the shiny metal reflecting into your eyes.

“Well you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” The look in Bucky’s eyes was primal, like he was no longer a man. The charming smile from before was now warped and too large, his lips curling to show his teeth and gums.

“You’re scaring me. Please don’t hurt me!”

“Hurt you? I would never.” He said, not moving the knife from your face. “I’m your boyfriend now. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you again.”

He brought the knife down from your cheek slowly, the sharp tip dragging down your neck. He began to slice the top button off your nightgown.

“Now, you made such beautiful noises for me before. Let me hear you scream, Pumpkin.”

#horrormoviehoeathon #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #scream au #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #yandere bucky barnes #let me hear you scream #halloween fics #witchywithwhiskey #one shot #marvel fanfiction #buck barnes fanfic #ghostface bucky barnes #banner by cafekitsune

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taytrashmouth · 5 months

Note

Heyy I was wondering if u could do prompt 22 with peeta I’ve been having peeta brainrot for so long 😭

tysmm!!

This is so real!!!!! Peeta supremacy. I really hope you love it.

Prompt 22: “You’re staring!”

Requests are open so please send them in!!!!!!!! Prompts under my profile.

(Set before the games)

:readmore:

It was a cold day in district 12, the snow had started to fall. But it was a good day, because you had somehow giggled your way into getting a date with Peeta Mellark.

You pulled your small brown bag, that’s been patched up so many times you couldn’t tell which fabric was the original. And began to walk to the bakery.

You pulled your dark blue beanie over your ears as you approached the door. You contemplated for a minute before knocking.

Peetas family were gathering supplies from the local market, they wouldn’t be back for the next few hours.

He opened the door and smiled the minute he saw you. You smiled back.

“Hey.” He ushered you inside, looking at the snow that dusted your shoulders.

“You must be freezing.” He took your coat and put it over the chair by the entrance.

“Only slightly.” You joked.

“You’ve got- umm snow.” Peeta pointed to your eyelashes. You giggled “oh, would you?”

You closed your eyes and he gently dusted the snowflakes off of your long eyelashes.

His hand lingered on your cheek as you opened your eyes.

“Thanks.” You spoke just above a whisper.

“I’m making bread.” He let out as he pulled his hand away. You smiled at his awkwardness.

“I’m glad! Your bread is like what I look forward to the whole week.” You told him as you walked to the kitchen.

He smiled shyly.

“I just need to get this in the oven and then we can do whatever you want.” He spoke, walking over to a metal bowl where the dough had been rising.

You sat on the kitchen counter and watched him knead the bread. You were mesmerised by the muscle in his arms, and the way he used his whole body to knead the dough.

He was talking about something but if you were honest you didn’t know what.

“Y/n-“ he called and you broke out of your trance. “You’re staring…” he smiled cockily.

You turned crimson looking at your hands and swinging your legs. “Sorry-“

“Don’t be…” he let out as he placed the bread into the oven.

“Come on.” He spoke and helped you down from the counter by your hips.

You blushed more.

He led you to the living room where a fire was going, it was small like all the houses in 12. But it was nice. Cozy.

You took your beanie off and attempted to smooth out your hair. Messy curls bouncing everywhere.

There was a severe lack of chairs in the living room. All single chairs in every corner of the room and a huge table in the middle. Furniture wasn’t one of the luxuries the Capitol provided.

You noticed some daisies lying on the table. Peeta picked them up. “I- I uh picked these for you. They grow down by the river.”

You smiled. “They’re beautiful.” You smelt them.

“Like you.” You both blushed then.

He took a daisy out of the bouquet and placed it behind your ear.

After a while of talking Peeta spoke “what do you wanna do? Unfortunately when it’s snowing there’s not much to do is there?”

“We could read.” You suggested fishing a book from your bag.

“Where did you get that?” Peeta examined it in awe.

“My dad, he knows a guy in 7 that owned a library before the rebellion. He’s really old. But every month my dad travels to get wood from 7 for our district and he gives him a book for me to read.” You explained.

“That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, when I was little he said that if the Capitol ever crumbles the library’s mine.” You smiled at the memory.

“You’ll have to take me with you.”

“Always.” You looked at every feature on his face. “You can lend some of them anytime you want. I have a feeling we’re gonna have to wait a long time for the whole library.” You joked and Peeta laughed

I would love to, but I’m not that great at reading.” He hesitated to speak. You could tell he was embarrassed.

“That’s okay, my mom taught me. Honestly I don’t blame you, schools here just care about coal and the rebellion.”

“Yeah…I’m sorry by the way.” He was talking about your mom. She died a few years back.

“It’s okay.” You smiled sadly.

“I can read to you if you want.” You offered.

He nodded. Hiding his excitement.

He sat on one of the chairs, and you sat on the floor next to him.

“Hey don’t sit on the floor.” Peeta sat up.

“No no! I’m fine, you won’t hear from over there, really.” You insisted.

“Sit with me.” Peeta suggested.

Blush crept into his face the second he said it.

“You don’t have t-“

“I want to.” You stood up.

He sat back onto the seat squeezing as far right as he could. You tried to squeeze next to him but you were half on top of him. You were both tomato’s.

He carefully placed his hand on your lower back and under your thigh. You took a sharp breath in as he moved you to sit on his lap, legs over the armrest.

“Is this okay?” He asked.

“Perfect.”

You began to read and he held onto every word. He was in deep and he knew it. He watched your lips move and the way you smiled when something good happened. And giggled when something romantic happened.

“Peeta-“ he broke from his trance when he realised you weren’t reading anymore.

“You’re staring.” You smirked.

Now he was the blushing mess. “It’s hard not to.” He moved some hair behind your ear.

You squealed and hurried your head in his chest at how perfect he was. He chuckled and stroked your hair as you continued to read, head on his chest.

#i love peeta #thg peeta #team peeta #peeta mellark #peeta my beloved #peeta mellark x reader #peeta supremacy #peeta x reader #the hunger games peeta #requests #y/n #the hunger games #thg #thg series #thg fanfiction #may the odds be ever in your favor

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luvrxbunny · 6 months

Text

sundress

Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!Reader

Prompt: Sundress

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, piv, unprotected sex, some praise (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.9k

A/N: couldn’t figure out how to end this *crying in the distance*

Steve opens the front door with a sigh, his hand running through his hair as he walks in. His day was more stressful than it needed to be. There was an early summer rush and Robin had left him high and dry to hang out with Nancy so he didn’t even have time to find someone to cover her shift. The only thing that got him through the day was the thought that you were at his home.

His parents are away for a month and after one week of you going back and forth between your house and his, he offered you to move in with him. You’ve been with him since, the little light at the end of his tunnel. He likes having you around, having you here when he gets home, it makes him feel like an old-timey married couple. You’re usually working at his desk, in his shirt and sometimes his jacket. Today’s sight is awakening something inside him though.

You’re in a sundress, and an apron, cooking at the stove. He can smell something sweet in the air, like you’ve been baking and humming a song in the kitchen. It’s a scene out of a movie from the '60s; you’re dancing around the kitchen with that pretty, soft smile on your face. You light up when you see him. “Steve!” You put down the bowl you were mixing and wipe your hands on your apron before rushing over to him. “I wanted to have a picnic or something? We can stay inside if you want- I’m not sure what the weather’s like but-”

He wraps his arms around you and drops some of his weight on you, earning a giggle at his name. He stays silent, breathing you in and imagining how peaceful life would be with you. He’d come home to this, almost every day, you in your frilly little apron, baking for him and greeting him with that beaming smile of yours. If he’s lucky you’ll let him get you pregnant, and you’d have a little one on your hip while stirring whatever you’re cooking for dinner. Maybe some he’d come home early to you dusting around the house, sweeping, or mopping. His housewife. Steve wants you to be his housewife. “Steve?”

You question softly, he’s silently inhaling your scent, his hands slowly tightening around you. He groans low against the top of your head and sighs again. “Missed you.” You squeeze him tighter and snuggle your head into his chest. “I missed you too, baby.” You slowly lift your head and he moves his to let you. You stare into his eyes for a bit before leaning up to kiss him, all the tension leaving both of your bodies. He slides his hands to your shoulder and pulls you closer, towering over you as you try and pull away with a giggle.

“My stuff’s gonna burn, Stevie!” You slip out of his arms and head back into the kitchen, muttering about how your muffins are going to be crunchier than you wanted. He feels like he’s in a dream as he watches you turn off the oven, inspecting your muffins before pulling them out. He takes his shoes off as you finally finish your meals and desserts. You’re setting everything up on a blanket you put down in the middle of his living room. He’s moving sluggishly as he takes off his vest.

You notice his heaviness, how down he seems and it wipes the smile off your face. “Do you want to? We don’t have to- I know you’re probably- you might be tired. We can-” He smiles to himself at your rambling before walking over to you and placing a grounding kiss on your forehead. He shakes his head and puts on a smile for you. “I’m alright, baby.”

He’s silent for most of the night, listening to the drama of your life and your new obsessions, he’s attentive while listening but doesn’t speak up often. You’re now washing the dishes as he packs up the rest of the picnic. He’s bringing you abandoned dishware, dropping the occasional spoon or cup into the sink with an apologetic face you meet with a smile. You’re almost finished when you hear his footsteps come up behind you, you’re waiting for him to put another dish in the sink but instead, he just stops behind you. You feel like you can see the broad shadow he’s casting over the sink area as he stands. You try to stay calm, ignoring the way you buzz under his gaze until you finish the dishes.

You take your gloves off and turn to him with a smile. He already has a desperate look in his eye, one you had expected to see when he walked in earlier, it was the whole reason you whipped out your apron. You’d seen the way he’s been looking at you since you’ve been living with him so you wanted to test something out. But poor Steve came home too tired to give you any reaction. Now that he’s fed and energized though, the sundress that’s been hiding beneath your apron looks really good. He’s staring right down your cleavage, not even trying to hide his gaze and you don’t hide the obvious step forward you take to press his bulge against your lower stomach. His eyes flutter shut and he gives you a shaky exhale, his cool breath fanning over your face.

“But my muffins…” You trail off, a soft pout resting on your face. He chuckles at you, a smile splitting his soft lips as he brings his hands to your cheeks and leans down. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He kisses you with everything he has and his hands immediately leave your face to reach your thighs, tapping them twice for you to jump. He lifts you, holding you with your legs wrapped around his waist tightly. He walks over to the island in his kitchen and sits you there with a groan as you bite into his lip softly. “I need you.”

He says it differently than he normally does, less frantic and urgent, more pleading, more needy. You caress his face gently and your heart warms at the way his eyes flutter shut. “I know, Stevie.” He whimpers and leans into you, pressing you against the cold granite of the counter and draping you in his warmth. His hand is bunching in your dress, pulling them up to your hips, and moans, happily surprised to find you wearing nothing underneath. His eyes shoot open and lock with yours, painfully aroused by the shy smirk on your face.

You giggle at him and push your hips up, prompting him to keep moving, he shakes his head at you, feigning disappointment as he turns his attention back to your leaking pussy. His rough jean material digs into your sensitive thighs and lips as he presses himself against you. Your hands fly to his belt desperately, pulling at any leather you can get your hands on and hoping you pull the right thing at some point. Steve lets you struggle, he watches your hands fumble on his belt, frantic for his cock. He tries not to let his smirk get on his face but your frustrated whine at his uncooperative belt forces the smile onto his face. He brings his hands down to gently pull yours away from his belt.

You pout below him, upset that his belt wasn't working with you. He takes it off himself and wiggles his jeans down with his briefs, leaving just enough room for his cock and throbbing balls. He wraps his hand around his cock with a sigh, bringing your attention away from your little tantrum and back to him. He watches you look him over and your gaze locks on his red, throbbing cock. He waits for you to look back up at him but you don’t your eyes stay on his dick as he slowly pumps it. He’s trying to stay calm but your gaze is turning him on so much he’s started to leak onto you, a small string of precum dripping down from his tip and rolling down your mound, getting lost between your lips.

You shiver and finally look up at him with begging eyes. He holds your contact, bringing one hand up to your face to keep it turned toward him as his other hand guides his dick into you. His breathing stutters at your overwhelming warmth, at the way he’s instantly coated in your slick. He takes a deep breath and leans down to you, pressing his chest against yours before pushing the rest of his cock into you. You scream out his name and your hands bury in his hair, his favorite feeling. “Just like that, Stevie. Right there, my love.”

His eyes roll back at your praise and his hands come to your hips, pulling you onto him while he thrusts into you with all the energy he has left. His head is resting on your chest, his ear on your heart, and listening to the way it’s pounding. His eyes are clenched shut, trying to focus on your pleasure instead of the way you’re sucking him in. He’s already pulsing inside you and you’re fluttering around him. Your hips keep twitching in his grip, trying to fuck yourself on his dick faster than he wanted to fuck you. Even though his hands are stopping your hips from moving, your pussy still chokes him every time you try, uncontrollably tightening on him and forcing groan after groan from his lips.

He grinds his hips into you slowly, nudging his tip into your cervix and his patch of curls into your clit; the perfect combination, Steve knows it too. He already has a smirk on his face when your moans kick up, pitching into something ethereal. His hips snap into you more desperately as he feels his balls tense. He lifts his head off of your chest and your hands are pulling his face to yours instantly. You moan into his lips, your lips wet and bitten against his, he can’t help the whines that fall into you. His hands leave your hips to hold your face to his as his hips take on a mind of their own, fucking into you with a pace that’ll have both of you exploding in a matter of minutes.

Your face is stuck in a shocked, silent moan as you stare at him, little whimpers resembling his name are the only noises he’s able to get out of you until your eyes roll back and you go limp against him. Ragged moans shoot out of you as you suffocate him, your hands almost ripping his hair from his head as he thrusts into you, chasing his orgasm as he watches your eyes cross. His cock throbs again, a warning before it explodes inside you.

You can feel his warmth burst and spread throughout you and he grunts your name against your lips. His eyes shut tight, every muscle pulled tense as he shakes against you. The only sounds coming from him are gruff curses and your name. His hands are shaking as he cradles your face, keeping it close to his as his hips jerk into you, thrusting with the aftershocks of his orgasm before collapsing against you. You stroke his hair with a soft sigh as you try to even your breathing. He’s just resting against you, so loose you feel like he could slide onto the floor.

All the stress from his day is gone. He thinks he could do this, deal with the stress of his job, whatever stress his outside life throws at him. He'll be okay as long as he's coming home to you.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things smut #kinktober #luvrxkinktober #kinktober smut

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theonemeathead · 3 months

Text

Sniper x Reader, "Lonely"

sniper x reader fluff bc he's my favorite obviously. tws for the implications of the word 'sheila', otherwise gender neutral :3. enjoy!

"Aw, that's game, mate!" Sniper laughed, heartily. You groaned, throwing your head back as your dropped the last steel horseshoe in your hand. That was the 3rd game you'd lost in a row. Today had been declared a ceasefire, so you had suggested taking the day to go camp with Sniper, your best friend. Truth be told, there's not a whole lot of good camping spots in New Mexico, meaning you were stuck in the middle of the dessert with nothing but whatever was packed in his campervan... and Sniper... by yourselves.

Now, you weren't one to crush. You prided yourself on holding your own, being 'independent'. But, base did get lonely, sometimes. Being surrounded by the same people every day for years could drive the sanest person crazy, especially the group you lived with. But, Sniper was different. He was kind and funny and honest with you. You admired his skill from afar, never really got in his way. You provided good company to him. So, when you had offered to go camping with him, alone... He felt his heart skip a beat. Your presence was different than the others; he liked being around you.

Kicking a rock, you sat down on a log next to the future firepit. The sun was setting, it was gonna be dark soon. Sniper bent down, grunting as his knees popped, to collect the stake and horseshoes from your previous game. He slid them back into the mesh baggie, throwing them to the side before walking over where you had unceremoniously thrown yourself down in a fit of frustration. The Australian crouched, beginning to build the basic structure of what would be your source of warmth for the impending night.

"No need to be sore, mate. You did good! I just did better."

You furrowed your brow, scowling at him. He snickered at your expression, clearly proud of his quip. Was it weird of him to find your annoyance so cute? You leaned to the side, taking a small rock and tossing it at him, the sediment bouncing off the top of one of his roughed-up cowboy boots. Everything about Sniper was so rugged, it almost hurt how stereotypically outdoorsy he looked. From his scratched aviators, to his sun-damaged skin, he sure wore that Aussie charm well.

"Oh, c'mon, sheila! I'm just givin' ya a hard time." You continued to stare him down, doing your best to try and look intimidating. You knew you didn't scare him, but everyone has their dreams. Taking the lighter from the pocket of his vest, he took some kindling and held the flame to it. You watched, silently, as the sticks caught fire, crackling into an uproaring orange flame. Satisfied, Sniper stood up, dusting his hands on his trousers before crossing his arms at you. "Not talkin' to me now, are we?"

"Nope." He chuckled, dryly. He reached up, taking his dusty slouch hat off his head, putting it to his chest and bowing slightly.

"How shall I ever earn your forgiveness?"

"Shut up... I'll forgive you when you start cooking supper."

"On it, sheila." And indeed he was. Half an hour had gone by and Sniper had brought his rusted pot of stew to a boil. It was filled with various game he'd hunted earlier in the day, ranging from coyote to rabbit. He had taken the edge of his kukri and sliced up some wild onions and some leftover carrots he had in the fridge, not letting them go to waste. Although it didn't sound appetizing, any food sounded like good food right about now. You both had been making small talk, conversing as the sun disappeared completely, leaving nothing but the glow of the fire and the occasional wheezey laugh. When came time, Sniper had been courteous enough to sneak a bowl and silverware for you from the dining hall. He only had plates for him, meaning he panicked slightly when you suggested this trip. He handed you the container, slopping a ladle full of dinner onto it. Immediately, you recognized it.

"Did you steal this from the kitchen?" You asked, slightly amused by the gesture.

"I mean—yeah. Didn't have another set of dishes, couldn't let ya starve." A small silence fell between you two. It was different than normal, it was almost awkward. You hadn't really thought about it, but you guessed Sniper had really never needed more than one of anything he had. You used your spoon to prod at the concoction, shuffling slightly as neither of you seemed to dare break the silence. Sniper had cleared his throat, grabbing a scoopful himself and sitting across from you. However, he didn't eat, but instead sat it on the ground at his feet as he took a stick, prodding at the open flame, absentmindedly.

"Doesn't it get lonely?" He froze. You stared at him, slightly shocked at how fast the words had left your mouth. They were in the air now and you couldn't take them back. And they stayed, too. Your words came out heavy, soaked in something Sniper hadn't experienced since moving away from his parents; Empathy.

"...'Lonely'?" He repeated back. He scoffed, shaking his head. Him, lonely? I mean, yeah, sure he wouldn't mind having a companion around, but he's always been by himself. Even as a kid, he was an only child. This was new and unfamiliar; This was uncharted territory. You felt you had touched a sore spot, something sensitive about Sniper. You feared you had caused him to retract back into himself, making him regret ever opening up to you at all.

"Yeah, well, I mean—" You started, eyes darting around as you conjured a response. "—Surely it gets a little isolating, doesn't it?"

"That's life, mate. I can't keep people around, considerin' my occupation 'n all."

"Well, what about me? You let me tag along." He sighed, swallowing harshly. You could tell you were beginning to fuel a fire, something that could quickly begin to spread and become untamed. Yet, still, you marched, like a moth to a flame.

"This is my job, you just happen to be apart of it."

"Oh." There was a slight pang in your heart. It hurt, how he was quick to make a statement like that. You stared down, your bowl still full and growing slightly colder by the second. He seemed to know he had said something wrong.

"Listen, uh—"

"I guess I thought we were, I dunno, friends or something." You grinded your teeth together, your jaw clenched tight. You felt naïve, even foolish. Without another word, you dumped your bowl back into the pot, sitting the dirty dishes next to the log you were sat on. You didn't even look at him as you began rolling out your sleeping bag. Sniper was never good with words and now he was stunned, stuck between saying something and saying nothing at all. You folded the top blanket back, as if you were about to crawl in. "I think I'm gonna hit the hay."

"Don't be like that, sheila. I didn't mean it the way I said it," he tried to reason with you. He took a deep breath. The one person that he felt comfortable enough to be around and he had forced them back; Pushed them away just like everyone else. God, couldn't he do one thing right? If not for himself, then at least for you. He hesitated to continue, the look in your eyes sending waves of guilt through him. It was now or never.

"I meant... Look, roo. I've always been like this, by myself. So, when you started stickin' around, it was different. It was change, and Aussies don't like change." You looked at him, quizzically. He sighed, his rough hands grabbing at the bark of the log he sat on.

"You should've just told me you didn't want me around th—"

"That's not what I'm sayin'!" He snapped. Your eyes widened, lips parting to retort, yet you couldn't find anything to say. You were dumbfounded by his outburst. He took his hat off, putting his tinted sunglasses around the brim, and placing it on the ground. He ran both of his hands through his short brunette hair, pulling on it slightly as if to soothe himself. "I don't know how to say it without soundin' pathetic."

"Say what?" You crawled over to him, noticing how his breathing was shallow. You looked up at him, sitting on the ground on all fours. He trembled slightly, his eyes screwed shut as he seemed to be lost in thought. Without a second thought, you reached a hand out, holding his knee and rubbing comforting circles. You had never seen him so distraught before, so wrecked about something. He was Sniper, the one person who was supposed to always have a calm head and a steady hand. Yet, here he was, rattled. You yelped when he whipped his hands to meet your face, both of his calloused palms rested against either side of your skull. With one hand cladded in a fingerless glove, the other one slightly clammy, he gripped you firmly.

"I really like ya, roo. I don't think I could take it if you stopped comin' around. I don't mean to sound like such a drongo when I speak, I just have never... had much to say, or anyone to say it to." His eyes scanned yours. Hardly, did Sniper ever take off his hat and sunglasses. You took the opportunity to flick between his greyed eyes. He was so scruffy for someone who wasn't even thirty. Your slid your hands from his knees, up to his wrists. You took your fingers and wrapped them delicately around his rough skin, careful not to push on the watch on his left wrist.

"I like you too, Mundy. Even when you're whooping my ass in horseshoes." You smiled, gently rubbing your thumb back and forth across his knuckles. He scoffed, a big smile playing across his lips at your remark.

"You're still sore about that?"

"Maybe," you teased. "So, what's that mean for us, now?"

"Well, love, I reckon it means you're stuck with a wanker like me." He pulled you forward, planting a gentle peck atop your forehead. Sniper released you, ruffling your hair as he stood up, pouring water on the fire to put it out and grabbing his personal belongings. "Roll that sleeping bag up, we're sleeping in the camper."

"But, there's only one bed in there?" You mentioned, scrambling to your feet to do as he said.

"I'm aware, darl'."

#is this cheesey?#yeah...#do i care?#no #sniper tf2 x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #sniper tf2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 x reader #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 fandom

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dovakiinwitcher · 2 months

Text

Roy's Little Experiment

It had been a loooong day. Then again, that could be said for every day in Gotham. Robberies, muggings, drug deals-- Jason had seen everything short of murder.

Perhaps that made it a successful day.

Even so, he was exhausted. It was such a relief when the bunker he currently shared with Roy came into view. (Technically, they also shared it with Kori, but she was off-planet at the moment.) Either way, Jason was just happy to be home, however temporary or empty it may be.

The lights were mostly off, which was likely for the best; he could feel a headache coming on. The moment he was inside, he pulled off his helmet, shaking out his hair and running a hand through it. He tossed the helmet and his jacket onto the old couch they'd fished from the dump, before making his way towards the only room emitting a faint glow.

It was relatively small, with a single frosted-glass window high up in the wall, leading out into an alleyway above. The bunker was underground; better to remain undetected. The walls themselves were solid concrete, though riddled with cracks. The ceiling leaked when it rained, so there were a few buckets or bowls scattered beneath the heavy stains. Everything in the room had to be strategically placed in order to remain dry.

Despite the rundown, ramshackle foundation, this was their work room. Tools and spare parts were carelessly left about; finished and half-finished projects were stored in stacked boxes away from the leaks; everything was disorganized in an orderly fashion.

And there in the middle of everything, sitting at a long table and tinkering with some kind of gadget, was the reason Jason had gone to that room in the first place.

Roy was hunched over, his brow furrowed in concentration. His eyes shined as he worked, fascination and determination emanating from him.

Jason rested against the doorframe for a moment, affectionately watching him deep in his current fixation. A small smile slipped onto his face; he's so beautiful, he thought to himself.

Roy finally caught notice of him out of the corner of his eye. Turning in his swivel chair, he grinned brightly at the man in the doorway.

"Heya, Jaybird," he greeted, setting down a screwdriver. Upon taking in Jason's visible exhaustion, he opened his arms invitingly. "C'mere, you."

Gratefully, Jason wandered over and sat by Roy's feet, laying his head on his lap. His thighs were warm and soft, comfortable like the best pillow Jason had ever rested on in his life. Although, that wasn't the only part he was looking forward to.

As Roy resumed working, one of his hands played with Jason's hair, gently carressing his scalp. Jason sighed contentedly, relaxing into his soft touch. Roy's nails lightly scratched behind his ears, chasing away that initial headache.

This was one of the few moments when Jason could let his guard down. His mind fogged over, devoid of any stressful thought, focused only on the gentle tingles awarded to him by Roy's hands. It was bliss; free, unburdened bliss.

Jason wrapped his arms around Roy's torso, pulling himself slightly closer, melting into him. His warmth sent a wave of calm over the undead outlaw, the strong scent of whiskey and motor oil filling his nose. He felt light as air right here, like putty in Roy's hands; nothing could ever harm him again, so long as he remained.

A low, contented rumble in his throat prompted an affectionate laugh from the archer.

"Did you just purr?" He chuckled, running his thumb over Jason's jaw.

"Mmph," he grunted in response, too bleary to form words. Roy laughed again, an angelic melody to Jason's ears.

"Someone had a long day, huh," he teased. He lightly traced his nails over Jason's neck, inducing a shiver through his spine. "At least this means you'll have no trouble sleeping tonight."

"...'s alright, now that 'm with you."

Pink dusted Roy's cheeks as he registered the uncharacteristically sweet words; he really was tired. A fond smile tugged at his lips as he gazed at the dark-haired man in his lap. He's so beautiful, Roy thought.

As he dragged his fingers slowly back up Jason's neck, he felt a light trembling. It took him a second to realize that it was not the ground shaking, but Jason. A twinge of concern sparked in his mind, though the shaking stopped once his fingers reached Jason's hair again.

That was... interesting.

Peering at what he could see of Jason's face, he repeated the motion. Jason's shoulders tensed ever so slightly, shaking beneath his touch. His ears burned red, and a reluctant smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Out of curiosity, Roy continued to trace his neck, watching his reactions closely. When he'd stop, so would Jason's trembling shoulders. Conversely, when he continued...

A puff of laughter escaped the typically-stoic man, his shoulders hunching to protect his sensitive skin.

Aha. A slow grin overtook Roy's face, gleeful at this realization. He's ticklish.

Somehow, for as long as the red-head had known Jason, he'd never once considered it, much less tested or asked. Even while at the manor, none of his several siblings had ever tickled Jason in Roy's presence.

That didn't matter at the moment; no, for the moment, Roy had him right where he wanted him.

"Jason~" His voice had a sing-songy cadence to it. The man tensed as Roy freed up his other hand, then started gently kneading into the knots in his shoulders. "Are you hiding something from me?"

To his amusement, Jason squirmed a little, though didn't move away. With just the tips of his fingers, Roy traced shapes into his back. Lightly, he clawed his nails up Jason's spine, watching in satisfaction as he started shaking again, cracking a rare smile.

"Gosh, you're so tense," Roy teased, now gently tapping his fingers one at a time out towards Jason's shoulder blades. The latter tightened his grip around Roy's waist, hiding his face deeper into the mechanic's thighs. "You should really relax a little."

Roy experimentally skittered his fingers under Jason's arms. They immediately clamped down, pinning his hands there. A small smirk spread across the red-head's face as he continued to lightly wriggle his fingers in the space.

This time, he got another breath of laughter as Jason tensed against him. He squirmed up, away from Roy's lingering hands, but they only fell to tweak his ribs.

Finally, Jason had to pull back, letting go of Roy and leaning away. "Quit beheing a dihick," he warned, nervous giggles slipping into his words.

Roy only moved out of his chair to push Jason in response, making him lose his balance. The second his back hit the floor, Roy straddled his pelvis, a devious grin adorning his features.

"You haven’t seen me be a dick, yet," he replied, hovering his fingers over Jason's stomach. The red-faced man below hugged himself protectively, more nervous giggles spilling over his lips. Roy cocked his head. "I'm not even touching you."

"Shuhut up," Jason retorted, hiding his face in his hands. That unintentionally left his torso open and defenseless. Roy took advantage of the opportunity, fluttering his fingers over his stomach.

Jason's hands shot down to grab Roy's wrists, though it did little to halt the fingers from digging into his hips.

Roy couldn't help but laugh along as Jason threw his head back and arched his spine. His cheeks puffed, and he squeezed his eyes shut to keep in his own laughter. The blush had spread over his ears too, now, only making him cuter in Roy's humble opinion.

"I can't believe you would hide this from me, Jaybird," he teased, pinching his way up Jason's sides. Clearly, the grip on his wrists tried to hold him at bay, but every little poke drained the strength from Jason's arms. "I mean, look at your face! You're so cute~"

"Stohohohop thahat!" Jason protested, shaking his head defiantly. "Ihihi am nohohohot!!"

"Aw, don't say that about yourself, Jay." Roy tugged his shirt loose from where it was tucked into his pants, slipping his fingers beneath the cloth. A startled yelp escaped Jason as he tried to push his wrists away (unsuccessfully). "You're absolutely adorable."

His fingers traced over Jason's defined abs, drawing out those giggles from before. He enjoyed how Jason jerked and trembled when he continuously poked up and down his sides.

"Ahahack!!" Jason squeaked, hunching his shoulders. "Quihihit being so mehehean!"

"I can't believe how ticklish you are, seriously." Roy ignored his plea, dancing his fingers over Jason's belly button and hips. "You're almost as red as your helmet right now! Oh my gosh, this is amazing."

With a sudden burst of strength, Jason surged forward. He bucked his hips to throw Roy off balance before grabbing his shoulders and rolling him over, switching their positions. Pinning Roy's wrists on either side of his head, he grinned devilishly down at the startled red-head.

"What about you, huh?" Jason's husky voice sent a shudder through Roy's body, and he stared wide-eyed up into his determined grey irises.

"U-uhm, I- what a-about me?" Roy swallowed hard, breaking away from Jason's intense gaze.

The dark-haired man's grin widened, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "How ticklish are you, Speedy? Why don’t we find out, hm?"

"Wahait, wait, I'm sorr-EEEEE!!!" Roy screeched as Jason's hands darted down to his underarms, digging into the soft skin. "Jahahay, plehehehease!!"

"What's the problem?" Jason teased, leaning his face closer to the squirming mechanic beneath him. "Can't take what you dish out?"

"Nohoho!!" Roy shook his head frantically, trying to wriggle out from under Jason's weight to no avail. "St-*hic*- stohohohop ihihit!!"

"Aww," Jason cooed, moving his hands down to Roy's hips. His thumbs kneaded into the crevices of his pelvis, eliciting a squeal quickly followed by hiccup-riddled giggles. "Who's red now, you little shit? Huh? Who's red now?"

"I haHAte yohohou!!" Roy's voice cracked as he pathetically batted at Jason's hands, which were now quickly traveling up his sides.

"Feeling's mutual, punk." There was a new glint in Jason's eyes as he plunged his fingers back into Roy's underarms. The red-head squirmed and thrashed beneath him, desperately kicking his legs. He threw his head back against the floor, gritting his teeth as he tried to retain some semblance of dignity.

With his neck now exposed, Jason seized the opportunity. He took a deep breath, then buried his face in the crook of Roy's neck, blowing a loud rasberry into it. The volume of that was nothing compared to the volume of Roy's shriek, which reverberated off of the exposed water pipe attached to the ceiling.

"NAHAhahoho!!" He writhed under Jason's touch, nuzzling against his cheek to try and push his head away. Jason didn't budge, peppering little kisses over his neck and jaw before once again blowing into the crook of his neck. "Dihick!! Yohohou're such a dihihihick!!"

"You started it," Jason retorted against his skin, now nibbling at his ear. His hands slipped out of Roy's underarms and down his ribs, dancing in the little crevices between each bone. "I'm simply returning the favor."

"Jahahay, plehehehease!!" He begged, pushing against his chest. "Cahan’t breheheheathe!!"

"Alright, alright," Jason sighed, sitting back and crossing his arms. Roy hugged himself, still giggling uncontrollably. "Now, what have we learned?"

Roy regained his breath, the giggles slowly puttering out. "Fuck around and find out?"

Jason planted a kiss on his forehead before unstraddling him and rising to his feet. "Pretty much," he shrugged, offering a hand. Roy took it, pulling himself up. Jason tugged him closer, wrapping a hand around his waist.

Roy rested his hand behind Jason's neck, tipping his head to lean his forehead again his own. "You're cute," he teased.

Jason slipped Roy's hand out from behind his neck and kissed the palm, closing his eyes. "And you're a little fucker who doesn't know when to quit."

The red-head laughed, rolling his eyes. "Right, the stubborn one here is me."

"What's this, an attitude?" Jason taunted, opening his eyes to peer at Roy. "Try me, Speedy; see where it gets you; I can go for round two."

He tweaked his hip, and Roy jumped away. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he grinned, catching Jason's wrist.

"Uhuh, I'm sure.”

#DC #batman #batfamily #jason todd #roy harper #jayroy #red hood #arsenal #sfw tickling community #tickle content #tickle fluff #tickle fic #tickle fight #t word community #t word #t word content

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oleander-nin · 1 year

Note

Apologizes if this request is a bit vague. But maybe 2018 TMNT. You can pick whatever character you think best suits the scenario. Just head canons about y/n having an over active nose. (Examples include: nose twitching and/or scrunching) If it's too vague of a request I understand not doing it.

A/N: THANK YOU! I've wanted someone to request something for so long! And I literally love this, It's so cute! I really liked it, so I did all four. Sorry they're all so short and it took so long, I haven't had the best week. I hope it's satisfactory though.(Thank you for adding the examples, my first assumption was reader sneezed a lot.) Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Words: 927

Summary: Rottmnt boys have an S/O with a very twitchy nose.

Mikey:

The first time he noticed it was when you were baking together.

You were measuring out the dry ingredients while Mikey was mixing in the eggs.

He couldn’t help but stare, your concentrated face was adorable and you seemed so determined to get the measurements exactly right.

And then your nose twitched.

Face scrunched up, moving back and forth between the bowl and the bag of flour beside you, pushing the extra flour back into the bag with the dull edge of a butter knife.

He had never seen you so focused, admiring you from his spot on the middle island.

You must’ve sensed his staring because you look up at him a few moments later.

Nose twitching as the flour dust rises around you, eyes trained on Mikey as you try to figure out why he’s staring so intently. He never told you, deciding to keep it to himself.

After that day, he continued to notice whenever your nose twitched, his eyes seemed to fixate on it every time.

He finds it adorable, figuring out what triggers different twitches and using them to his advantage. Does your face scrunch up in concentration when you play video games? Well now you both just have to have daily matches.

Likes to draw you with your scrunched up face, noting that it happens when you're happy or focused. He just finds it cute.

Donnie:

Was one of the first things he noticed about you.

He was watching you play poker with Raph, both of you starting trying your best to keep your faces straight. When you spoke, trying to slyly convince Raph you had the upper hand, your nose twitched.

Donnie wrote it off at first, assuming there was dust in the air and he needed to check the air filters he had set up, but it happened just about every time you lied.

He was pleasantly surprised to find this tell of yours, content with knowing you wouldn’t be able to lie to him.

As you grew closer, he was able to differentiate between different nose twitches, memorizing how your face scrunched up in disgust at certain textures, how your nose flared when Leo was starting to get on your nerves.

It made dealing with your emotions a lot easier when he could see them. He loved this little quirk of yours, hoping you never found out why he just studies your face so often.

He likes to keep you close and just listen to you talk, watching your facial expressions and little nose twitches while you tell him about your day.

If you ever ask about his staring, he just gives some non-committal answer. Not only does he want to keep up his bad-boy image, but he also doesn’t want you to figure out how to train your expressions. Then his upper hand would be taken away.

Raph:

Didn’t notice for a long time, but once he did, he assumed you just had allergies or something. He’d carry around tissues just in case a twitch turned into a sneeze, not wanting you to be left with a runny nose. He’d offer you allergy medicine and try to get rid of any unwanted dust, never wanting you to be uncomfortable down in the lair.

Once he realized it was just a normal you thing, he relaxed a little, no longer hounding Donnie about the air filters and such.

Finds it cute now that he isn’t constantly worried you're allergic to everything.

If you ever mention his chasm, he mentions your nose scrunches. Is happy to have something you can both mutually tease each other about.

Defends you if Leo makes fun of it though. Will not tolerate Leo’s BS when it comes to you, especially if you're sensitive or insecure about it.

Just stares with a soft smile whenever you go on a rant and your nose starts acting up, he thinks it just adds to your charm.

Will just make silly faces at you randomly, trying to copy your nose scrunches. Loves when you make silly faces back at him.

All in all, he just thinks it’s a cute little thing you do.

Leo:

Holy cow, prepare to be teased.

Also notices it right away, but unlike Donnie, he instantly points it out.

Finds it cute and goofy, immensely enjoying the way your nose twitches as you go about your day.

Will tease you about it, but will not make fun of you. Like, if your nose starts twitching as you talk, he will add sound effects to it, but he won’t outright make fun of it.

If you’re insecure about it, he will tone down the teasing and compliment you more often, feeling bad he might’ve had a hand in your insecurity.

If you are both into heavy teasing, borderline bullying, he will absolutely compare it to Raph’s chasm and rag you about it every time you are having a teasing fight. It’s okay though, you just make fun of his bald head and lack of fingers. Sure wish you could play an instrument, huh Leo.

Will fight anyone else who makes fun of you though. That’s his thing.

Starts copying it subconsciously, his snout starting to scrunch up a little more as he talks. His brothers tease him for it. They are less kind about it. It’s not his fault he just wants to be more like you.

Like Mikey, he tries to find what triggers certain twitches and purposefully puts you in a position where your face scrunches.

Loves your little twitchy nose.

02.24.23

#Rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #rottmnt Leo x reader #leo x reader #mikey x reader #donnie x reader #raph x reader #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #tmnt fanfic #fanfic #rottmnt fanfiction

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meluiloth · 4 months

Text

LOTR Week Day 7: The Fellowship of the Ring

LOTR20 Day 7: Free Day

Summary: Frodo hosts an unexpected party. 2094 words

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

This particular hobbit hole had a perfectly round door with a yellow brass knob in the exact middle; it boasted a fresh coat of vivid green paint, and the decorative plants by the entrance were lush and trimmed perfectly. It was the nicest hobbit hole anyone could think of.

The inside, however, was decidedly less clean; books, papers, and maps were so plentiful that they were stacked on the floor as well as every surface, and little trinkets and knick-knacks were piled wherever they could fit, making the house look smaller than it actually was.

This was something that Sam was working very hard to remedy—he dashed determinedly from room to room like a bumblebee, trailing dust and frantically organizing everything as best he could, his face flushed red from exertion.

Frodo did not understand his mission, or the severity in which he pursued it—it was all he could do at times to stay out of Sam’s way and avoid being bowled over. “Sam, what is going on?” he exclaimed. “Is anything the matter?”

“I couldn’t tell you now, Mister Frodo,” Sam answered as he was on his way to Frodo’s office, carrying an armful of scrolls and maps. “There’s not enough time!”

“Time for what?” Frodo pressed, taking the maps out of his hands and putting them into the correct drawers. If Sam was so bent on cleaning Bag End, Frodo decided that he could at least make himself useful and help—after all, he was like Bilbo in the sense that his possessions would simply continue to pile up if he wasn’t somehow compelled to clean them—and here he was, quite literally, being spurred into action.

Sam muttered something about how ‘they could be here any moment’, which piqued Frodo’s interest; Sam rarely invited guests to Bag End, something that Frodo knew was for his sake, as he wasn’t as effervescent a host as Sam and Rosie could be (although he had told Sam many times that he was welcome to have whomever he wanted over at any time). The fact that Sam would suddenly take him up on the offer without even letting him know was curious indeed—and although Frodo asked who was coming, Sam was very tight-lipped about the whole thing.

It wasn’t until the early evening, when the sky outside was beginning to be tinged with pink and gold, that a sharp rap came from the door.

Frodo quickly shoved the last of the clutter—a banner he had received from the King of Rohan that he had nowhere to hang—into the nearest closet and rushed to open the door.

Standing there, grinning wide and carrying bowls of punch and mulled cider, were Merry and Pippin.

“Hello, Frodo!” Pippin exclaimed. “Surprised to see us?”

Frodo laughed and answered, “Well, Sam was being so secretive about all this I didn’t know who to expect! Please, come in and make yourselves at home.”

Merry and Pippin gladly obliged, setting the drinks down on the table and commenting on how nice Bag End looked.

“Must’ve taken hours,” Merry said, sitting down on one of the many plush chairs in the living room and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

“Sam did most of it,” Frodo supplied, “so it went shockingly fast. I—”

He was interrupted by another knock on the door, this time heavier. As he went to go greet the newcomer, Frodo called back to Sam: “Who else did you invite?”

Sam trotted up to the door, a bashful grin on his face. “Well, if I told you it would spoil the surprise,” he said, sharing a look with Merry and Pippin.

Frodo opened the door, and was so shocked by what he saw that he stood there for a long moment in awkward silence.

There, on the doorstep, looking quite out-of-place in the quaint town of Hobbiton, were Legolas and Gimli. Gimli was dressed in rich red robes, his beard adorned with intricate braids and beads of silver and gold, but his eyes sparkled even brighter as he let out a hearty laugh and crushed Frodo in an embrace before the hobbit could protest.

Legolas, who was too tall to fit under the doorway without crouching, was also smiling, his fine hair hanging loose about his shoulders; he was clothed less ornately than Gimli, but he looked no less ethereal with his long ears and green silk uniform.

“It’s wonderful to see you,” Frodo managed to sputter out once Gimli had released him. “I had no idea you would be coming!”

Legolas laughed. “Your friend thought it best to keep it a surprise for you,” he explained. “May we come in?”

“Of course,” Frodo said, stepping aside so the Dwarf and the Elf could enter. Legolas still stooped a little, but Gimli was quick in complimenting the size of Frodo’s home.

“It’s just like my father said it was,” he said, “Only cleaner!”

This made Frodo laugh—Bilbo always was a bit of a magpie, and he had never changed in his ways, only passed his habits on to Frodo. “Please, help yourself to anything in the pantry,” he said, opening the door for them; to his credit, he always kept the pantry well-stocked with every type of delicacy and meal, though he rarely entertained guests.

Legolas and Gimli thanked him, setting their own contributions beside the punch: a delicious-looking loaf of bread, speckled with cranberries and orange peels, along with a crate of Dorwinion wine from Legolas, and a whole haunch of roast venison dripping with spiced juice from Gimli.

“Who else is coming?” Frodo asked. He suspected at least Gandalf was on his way.

Sam grinned. “Oh, we’re expecting two more,” he said.

Merry emerged from the pantry, carrying a sticky bun in each hand, and pointed out the window. “There they are now,” he announced.

Frodo went to look for himself, and saw that two people were making their way up the path; he could not tell their faces in the fading light, but he knew one of them was Gandalf by the white robes and tall pointed hat he wore.

When the two of them arrived at Bag End, Frodo was already waiting for them; it was indeed Gandalf, looking older and more wizened than when Frodo had last seen him, carrying a satchel instead of a staff. “My dear Frodo,” he said, putting a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “It is good to see you.”

“And you, Gandalf,” Frodo answered with a smile, placing his hand on Gandalf’s. “What a happy surprise!” He turned to look at his companion, and encountered another shock when he saw it was none other than Aragorn, King of Gondor—though he had exchanged his regal crown for a blue velvet hood, and his robes appeared more comfortable than kingly. “Strider,” he greeted.

“Master Underhill,” Aragorn replied, a jovial glint in his eye. “It is a privilege to be here.”

“The privilege is mine,” Frodo said, waving them both into his home. The gentle sound of voices had filled the hall, a welcome change from its usual silence; the others had gathered in the living room, enjoying glasses of punch and sweets. When they saw Aragorn and Gandalf, they all cheered with delight.

“Now our Fellowship is complete,” Legolas said, smiling. “You look older, my friend,” he said to Aragorn.

“Only a year, wiseacre,” Aragorn protested. “Raising an infant and ruling a nation is no easy feat.”

Gimli laughed and chimed in with, “Aye, and a feat I’m glad I’m not required to perform—the Elf and I have spent this past year traveling!”

“We haven’t,” Merry added. “I don’t think I’ll ever take a step out of the Shire again—not even to raid Farmer Maggot’s crops!”

Frodo snorted as he lit the candles on the table. “Not that you would ever have to, being filthy rich,” he said with a grin. Merry shrugged his shoulders affably and laughed with the rest.

“We’re ready to eat, I believe,” Sam called out. He had set the table magnificently, and soon everyone had taken their place around the table. There was one empty seat beside Aragorn, for the ninth member of the Fellowship who was no longer there.

They spent the whole evening laughing and sharing stories of how their lives had been this past year, and even some tales of their time in the Fellowship; Sam was eager to tell everyone that his wife was expecting their first child sometime in the coming Spring.

After a while, Frodo began to fall a little quiet, his energy running low from the excitement; he swirled the wine in his glass idly, his eyes sometimes falling on the stump that used to be his third finger.

He sometimes wondered how his life might have been, if he had not stood up in that Council and took the burden of the Ring upon himself, or even if Bilbo had never found it in the Mountains. Would he have been so haunted, so weary, so odd? Would the people of Hobbiton have whispered about his slipping sanity, or would they have praised him as the life of any party?

Perhaps he still would have been quiet and reserved; part of him knew that he would never have met the magnificent and wonderful men sitting around him, that he would never have formed these bonds.

But was it all worth it?

“Mister Frodo?” Sam’s quiet voice interrupted Frodo’s wandering thoughts and brought him back to himself; his brown eyes were filled with concern. “You look tired… are you ill? Is it…” His eyes slid downwards and he gestured to Frodo’s shoulder.

Frodo managed a smile. “No, Sam. I’m all right. Just a little worn down.”

“Do you want me to tell everyone to leave?” Sam asked.

Frodo shook his head. “No… I’ll be fine. I’ll just probably go to bed soon, if that’s all right; I’ll be well in the morning to say goodbye.”

He began to stand up, but he caught everyone’s eyes on him; they were watching with a mixture of reverence, love, and pity, just like Sam—Gandalf especially.

Frodo’s cheeks began to heat, and he felt bad for wanting to leave without saying farewell. So, he turned to face them all, looking into their eyes; Sam’s warm with compassion, Merry and Pippin with affection and joy, Gimli and Legolas with excitement, Aragorn with nobility, Gandalf with peace and the same weariness that Frodo felt.

“My dear friends,” he said. “I am honored to have you all with me.” He paused. “It makes… it makes celebrating what we have done worth it, in a way; the Enemy has been defeated, and thousands of lives have been saved because of us, but I know that we all have suffered through our quest. Some of us…” his eyes fell upon the empty seat, “...Some of us have even lost their lives fighting for this peace. But what makes it all worth it is the true peace that came with our struggle. There were people we loved who deserve the best parts of the world, and to live without fear. I took the Ring because I knew that, even if I did not come back alive from our quest… at least those who would come after us would be able to live freely. And now the world has been saved, and…” And I’m very tired, thought some part of him. The world is bright for everyone but me. “And I am so glad to know that all of us are living richer lives because of it,” he ended, quietly. “It has been such a privilege to have you all here.”

He dipped his head to the company, who were all silent with emotion; Gimli was brushing tears out of his beard, and Merry and Pippin were smiling past the glassiness in their own eyes.

Merry stood up and lifted his glass of wine. “To Frodo,” he announced.

The rest of the Fellowship stood also, repeating the gesture. “To Frodo!”

As they all finished their glasses and laughed with each other, Frodo drank the rest of his wine and said, quietly, “To the Fellowship of the Ring.”

Well, I'm so proud to have finished LOTR Week 2023!! It's been so wonderful and fun, and also challenging as a person who starts projects and has a difficult time finishing them. I loved each of these stories, and I'm so glad you did too!

Thank you so much for your kind words and support of my writing, and I'm so happy to have been able to participate in this lovely challenge with so many other talented writers, artists, and aesthetic makers! Thank you to @lotr20 for hosting this challenge, it's been so fun!!

Taglist:

@lotr20, @frodothefair, @kylobith, @konartiste, @acornsandoaktrees, @kylobith, @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras, @lanthanum12

#lord of the rings #fanfic #lotrweek #my writing #lotr20 #aragorn #frodo #samwise gamgee #merry and pippin #gimli son of gloin #legolas greenleaf #gandalf #the fellowship of the ring #fandom event

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topazshadowwolf · 6 months

Note

I feel like for the whole season of halloween Killer and Cross are gonna be tortured, because Horror already loves jumpscaring people and doesn't need an excuse to do it and now that Dust knows Killer's scared of ghosts you know he's going to be hanging up lil ghost decorations around every corner and doorway to get him. Cross will be caught in the middle a lot knowing his luck (and there will almost certainly be a cow at some point)

I know you sent this a while ago and I tried to make a story from this but couldn't think of one. I did get a different random idea for a story that I will put under the cut along with an AO3 version. That said. Much of what you said is true of Halloweens when they are mindful of the time of the year. Now, on to the little Halloween surprise I had. It just popped into my head after Trick-or-Treating finished, so sorry it is so late.

AO3

Happy Halloween!

---

Nightmare looked at his pocket watch and frowned. “Ah… it is almost time. Horror?”

“yes, boss?” Horror replied, looking up from the stove.

“We have some candy, correct?” Nightmare inquired.

“candy? what do we need candy for?” Killer asked as he turned his attention from cutting up ingredients to his boss.

“i mean… boss, it is the thirty-first, but… s’not like we’ll get tricker-treaters out here,” Cross pointed out.

“wait, is it halloween?!” Killer groaned. “and here i could have been watching scary movies all day.”

“we can still watch something later,” Horror replied and then pointed to the cupboard. “third shift, behind the cans where cross won’t look.”

“what?!” Cross meeped, and Killer grinned.

“we all know about that sweet tooth of yours. s’worse than dust’s when it comes to chocolate,” Killer chuckled, then looked back at Nightmare.

“The multiverse is an odd place,” Nightmare mused as he dug around in the cupboard and pulled out a bag of candy. He then grabbed a bowl and poured some in. All three watched as Nightmare started to leave the room and walk down the hall.

“okay… i vote we follow. horror, kill the heat under dinner; we need to see what this is about. cross, get dust, quick,” Killer ordered.

“on it!” Cross replied, and with that, the three were in action. Horror and Killer were soon following Nightmare a few steps behind. Cross caught up with a shortcut, dragging Dust behind him.

“what’s this about,” Dust muttered with a yawn.

“boss asked for candy,” Killer explained.

“ooookay, and we are following him… why?” Dust frowned.

“he said it was almost time,” Horror answered.

“almost time for what?” Dust questioned.

“exactly,” Killer answered, then called ahead. “mind answering that, boss? or are you going to say something mysterious again?

“Just know… there are things even I can not explain,” Nightmare answered.

Cross gestured to Dust in a way that meant ‘see?’ “first, it’s halloween night. second, he said it is almost time, and it is almost 5 p.m., often when trick-or-treating starts. and third, he asked for candy,” Cross explained.

“but this… that… what?” Dust frowned, “this isn’t even an au, and we are the only ones here? does he expect us to trick-or-treat our own home, does he?”

“Heavens, no, you four are adults and should be well past Trick-or-Treating,” Nightmare replied.

“but not too old to write letters to santa?” Killer giggled.

“Did you not like your gifts? I can ask for him to take them back if you are displeased,” Nightmare said, glancing back over his shoulder with a glare.

“nah, boss, i liked them,” Killer quickly replied.

“Then just watch,” the dark guardian answered as he arrived at the main doors and set the bowl on a table. He then looked at his pocket watch again. “Just in time. It is now seventeen hundred; Trick-or-Treating starts now.”

They all stood there in silence as they waited… and waited… Nightmare pulled a book out of his hoodie and started reading as Killer, and the others stood there watching. Killer turned to the others and giggled, before saying in a joking manner, “guess we aren’t the first house."

“Apparently, not this year,” Nightmare replied calmly.

“nightmare isn’t the type to do something for no reason,” Dust said, and Killer had to admit he was right.

“Hm? Ah, he is here…,” Nightmare said with a smile, then placed his bookmark and closed his book.

That was when there was a knock on the door, and the four jumped. Killer felt his eyelights light as he stared at the doors, watching as Nightmare picked up the bowl and opened them. The four slowly moved forward as if fearful, and honestly, they were. After all, it is not every day someone breaks through Nightmare’s barrier. In fact, the only way they know for that to happen is if someone is stronger than Nightmare, if they had a contract, or were accepted.

Which was it with this one?

Just outside was a small Frisk, holding a bag that rattled with the sound of candy as he held it up. “Twick-or-tweat!” The child loudly announced in the cutest voice one could imagine from someone dressed up as a Pikachu.

“Well, look at you. Dressed up as one of those Pocket Mans this year?” Nightmare asked, and Killer cringed with the others.

“it’s pokemon, boss,” Killer muttered softly.

“Uh-huh, I’mma Pikachu!” the boy proudly announced.

“So scary,” Nightmare held the bowl out to the boy. “Here you go, take a nice handful. I suspect you will be my only visitor again this year.”

“Awww, sowwy you don’t have any visitows,” The child then brightened up. “Youw home is awways the most decowated for Hawwoween!”

“i don’t know if i’m weirded out or finding this overly adorable,” Killer whispered to Cross.

“same,” Cross whispered back.

They watched the child take some candy and then turn to leave, “T’ank you, Nightmawe!” He disappeared through a shadowy portal and silence turned to this fragment of an AU. Nightmare sighed and then set the bowl back down before closing the door. When he turned, the guardian looked at Killer and the rest, and he actually looked surprised. “What?”

“you are asking us that?!” Killer burst and then waved his hand to the door and then bowl. “what was that about?! you have a contract with some random frisk to let him come and get candy from you on halloween night?!”

“No, that is ridiculous. The child just appears on his own accord,” Nightmare frowned.

“so… that tiny kid, dressed in a costume, breaks through the barrier every year on halloween?” Dust clarified.

“Exactly,” Nightmare replied as he picked up the bowl and started walking.

“who is he?” Horror asked.

“I do not know. I just know he showed up one year. I tried to kill him but could not harm him… he just laughed and thought it was a trick. Year after year, it happened until finally… when I had control of my corruption, I finally learned about this All Hallow’s Eve, or Halloween as you say,” He came to a stop and looked back at them. “I tried ignoring him, and he toilet-papered my castle, among other things. So, I then tried giving him a treat, and since then, we have been at peace. Every year, sometime in the evening, he arrives, I give him candy, and then he leaves.”

The four stared at Nightmare, shocked. Nightmare then turned and again said, “As I have said before: There are many things in the Multiverse that even I can not explain.”

#UTMV #Happy Halloween #Guardian of Halloween #Spirit of Halloween #dadmare #nightmare!sans #killer!sans #dust!sans #cross!sans #horror!sans

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azsazz · 2 years

Text

Sugared and Spiked

Cassian x Reader

Summary: Reader and Cassian decide to make chocolate chip cookies after a late night of drinking.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,625

Notes: Mhm…we love a domestic bat boy 🤤

_________________________________________

“Cassian,” you hiss, rapping the wooden spoon against his knuckles as he spills over the flour trying to sneak a taste of the sweet concoction you’ve mixed. But that’s all it is: butter and sugars combined with a dash of the saccharine smelling vanilla. Impatient male. “I literally just measured that!”

He yelps, clutching his hand to his chest with a pout, eyes glossy from the fair share of drinks he’s had thus far.

“That hurt,” he whimpers dramatically, lower lip jutting out in a pout.

As if that’s going to make you give in.

“That’s what you get for trying to sneak some with your grubby paws before it’s done,” you retort, giving him a stern look.

He huffs, muttering that he washed his hands you just weren’t around to see. You stifle your laughter with the back of your hand but he catches sight of your upturned mouth, poking you in the side which causes you to let out a too loud squeal. You slap a hand over your slackened mouth, sharing a look with the Illyrian.

You both still, listening to the silence of the house late at night. Neither of you hear anything upstairs, releasing sighs of relief. His brothers had retired to their rooms only a few hours ago while you and Cassian continued drinking, until he’d gotten a craving for chocolate chip cookies.

“Can you crack the eggs please?”

The Illyrian grumbles and turns to the opposite counter where you’d set out the eggs and a dish. Even in your own drunken haze you knew not to trust Cassian with cracking the eggs over the already started batter, knowing that his normally tender touch tends to get a bit more aggressive when he drinks. Not that you’d ever complain when those hands were roaming up your skirts for a cheeky feel, but it won’t do with the delicate produce.

You don’t want to try and fish out shells in your own tipsy state.

You sneak a few of the stray chocolate chips from the counter, enjoying the sweetness on your tongue. Your mate had been a bit overeager when he’d found them. At first, the both of you were going to share the chocolate, but it was soon decided that cookies would be an even better midnight snack than the candy chips. The bag had burst open, ripping down the middle and spraying the tiny drops everywhere, leaving you and Cassian staring wide-eyed at each other, stifling the roaring laughter that itched at your throat.

There were still enough to go around, most having landed on the clean countertop. The ones that had managed to escape to the floor had been cleaned up by the Illyrian himself, though you begged him not to eat them off of the ground.

“I’m not letting these go to waste,” he’d said, easily able to pop them into his mouth even with you hanging off of his arm, trying to stop him. His muscles bulge and he smirks at the sweet smell that isn’t coming from the chocolate. “It’s just a little dust.”

He’d tossed one up in the air, catching it in his mouth with ease, smirking down at you as he chewed, all while you watched with your arms crossed over your chest, trying to keep your face neutral.

As you measure out the salt you hear a loud clang of an egg being smashed against a metal bowl and the sound reverberating loudly throughout the kitchen has you cringing, praying that the other two Illyrians don’t awaken from the noise.

You smother your laugh at the low curse that follows.

Remeasuring the flour, you add it to your bowl with the rest of the dry ingredients, ready to be added to the wet by the time Cassian returns with the bowl of eggs. You peek into the dish, chuckling when you catch a glimpse of them as he pours them into the bowl with the sugar and butter. One yolk is busted but the other seems unscathed but there are no shells in sight and you couldn’t be happier.

“How long did you spend fishing out the eggshells?” you tease, handing him the wooden spoon to mix. You’ll add the dry ingredients to the wet because you know in Cassian’s state he’d most likely spill the flour…again.

“Quiet you, or I won’t share any of my cookies,” he chaffs, moving the bowl away from you right as you’re about to dump a spoonful of the flour mixture into the bowl. It falls onto the counter, a plume of powder wafting from the white substance and you glare at Cassian who hunches his shoulders with a blush, curling in on himself. “Sorry!”

“These are never going to get done,” you mutter, watching as he sweeps the flour from the counter into the bowl. Cauldron, you curse, grimacing at the sight.

You’re definitely not drunk enough for this.

“You’re right,” a voice from the doorway startles the both of you. The spoon jumps in your hands and ingredients go spilling once more. You place the bowl down in defeat, brushing the light substance from your hands back into the mixing dish.

At least you know your hands are clean.

“You two will never get these done without a little help,” Azriel smirks slightly and of course you’d woken the spymaster. You don’t even know why you and Cassian thought you could pull this off without alerting the ever watching male.

Cassian steps aside as Az rounds the corner, taking his place at the mixing bowl. The warlord tries to take the spoon with him, wanting to taste the batter so desperately, but a dark tendril of shadow wraps around the handle, tugging it away from Cassian’s mouth.

The tallest Illyrian grumbles, surrendering the spoon into Azriel’s possession, who shares a look with you that has you chuckling loudly at your disappointed mate. Cassian leaves the room with his head hung between his shoulders, grumbling about getting the unfinished bottle of alcohol from the sitting room.

You help Azriel with the dough, adding the flour mixture into the large bowl while he incorporates it with the wet ingredients. It’s a comfortable silence between the two of you while you work and you’ve just added the last of the dry blend into the crock when something shatters in the next room over.

You cringe, watching as Azriel’s shadows flicker at the noise. He doesn’t so much as flinch, just moves that steady hazel gaze from the bowl to the door that Cassian comes stumbling through, just as Rhysand appears at the bottom of the stairs, his violet eyes blazing.

“I didn’t do it,” Cassian exclaims, bottle clutched in one hand as he raises them in surrender.

The High Lord lets out a long breath, cleaning the mess with a snap and sending you all stern looks. “Having all the fun without me then?”

You look between Cassian and Azriel, then at the nearly completed batter on the counter. You offer Rhys a crooked grin, holding up the bowl of chocolate chips, “Would you like to add the chocolate chips?”

He cracks a grin, joining you and Azriel at the counter, pouring in every single morsel of sweetness into the bowl, stirring it happily. “Ah, I showed up for the best part, as always.”

“No,” Cassian sing-songs, taking a swig from the bottle. He passes by his brothers, catching them off guard, swiping up some of the completed dough and plopping it into his mouth, finally getting what he’s wanted since the start.

“Hey,” you protest, as he lifts you onto the counter and settles between your legs, “That’s not fair Cass.”

“I’ll give you a little taste,” he winks, chewing, “All you had to do was ask (Y/N).”

He leans in with every intention of letting you taste the sugary goodness on his tongue but you lean back as he moves forward, pressing a hand to his chest. “Gross!”

Cassian makes a face at you, sticking his tongue out. There’s chocolate coating it and you can only laugh at his antics. You waste no time scooping a bit of dough from the bowl and smearing it across his mouth.

“You’re going to get it now,” his grin is wicked, glossy eyes aroused, catching your wrist in his so he can hold you still as he leans the rest of the way in, ignoring your shrieking as he rubs his cookie dough coated face against yours, smearing the batter between your faces.

“Should we leave?” Rhys asks, when Cassian pulls away.

“We should take the cookie dough,” Azriel hums in agreement.

“No,” you exclaim, snagging a towel from the counter and whipping Cassian with it. He laughs heartily, swaying slightly in his spot, rubbing at his arm where you’d snapped the towel at it. You wipe the substance from your face, glaring at him, before opening the silverware drawer between your legs for four spoons.

“Here,” you pass them out, taking a scoop of the dough from the bowl, licking at it. You nearly moan at how good it tastes, the sweetness dancing on your tongue.

Azriel doesn’t hesitate and Rhys watches amused at his brother with the sweet tooth.

“Are we not cooking these?” the High Lord asks even though he’s taking some himself.

You shrug, looking at the partially scooped out dough. “Guess not. I forgot to turn the oven on, to be honest.”

“Me too,” Cassian admits with a smile, already on his second scoop. The four of you will finish it in no time, no point in turning on the oven.

“Next time then,” Rhys answers, both you and his brothers shooting him knowing looks.

Like that’s going to happen.

#cass x reader #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian/reader #cassian/you #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azsazz #SBA #soft boy autumn #soft!cassian

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meower44 · 25 days

Text

Scary Movie | Randal x Sebastian

Randal gets scared while watching a horror movie with Sebastian :3

(cross-posted on AO3 & Wattpad @meower44)

During the late evening hours in the Ivory household, Randal would never fail to think of odd activities for him and his lovely pet, Sebastian, to do to cure his boredom.

Which is why Sebastian was left very surprised when Randal proposed the idea of watching a scary movie together.

"Sebastiannn!", Randal cooed, clueing to the boy that the young Ivory had yet another exhilarating game for him to suffer through.

Randal burst through the bedroom door with a TV remote, his mouth formed in an odd shape resembling the number three.

He aggressively latched his grubby hand on to Sebastian's clammy one. Before Sebastian could wipe the beads of sweat forming on his forehead Randal had already dragged him to the living room couch.

"Now sit down like a good pet while I make us a yummy snack!" ,Randal beamed, stopping for a moment to slowly turn his head to Sebastian. "And don't move!", the boy added on, a sinister grin spreading across on face.

Per the cryptids orders Sebastian awkwardly sat down next to a seemingly spaced out Nyon. They both stared at the blank TV while listening to each other's breathing, one more nervous than the other.

Interrupting Sebastian's morbid thoughts was an annoying, "Kekeke..", coming from the kitchen, followed by a loud redhead stomping his way across the living room.

"You! Move! It's mine and Chicken Leg's movie night!", Randal yelled as he kicked Nyon's shin. His hands occupied with a huge bowl of...popcorn?

Nyon calmly stood up and walked into a random hallways abyss in silence, probably going to loaf on a tall shelf of some sort.

Everything about this movie idea seemed to upset Sebastian, which is fair considering how many times Randal has tricked him into playing a "normal" game, only for it to turn out to be horrifying and gory.

Sebastian sat with his brows furrowed, profusely sweating. This Randal took notice of. "...Hey, Sebby.", Randal said with a smug grin on his greasy face.

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the 100th corny nickname and looked up at the excited boy. Randal flopped onto the couch, some popcorn scattering around them in the process.

He was so close to Sebastian that he could feel his warm, slightly rank breath on his freckles. Randal set the popcorn onto the coffee table and placed a finger between Sebastian's brows.

Randal leaned in closer to the now even more suspicious boy and squinted his eyes. "What do you call an angry carrot?", he asked, a huge smile forming across his face.

Sebastian groaned. "What do you call an angry carrot, Randal?", he replied with one diamond shaped eyelid slightly twitching.

The sneaky redhead moved his finger from the middle of Sebastian's eyebrows, to the tip of his nose, giving him a strong boop while replying, "A steamed veggie!!"

Randal let out a stream of cackles and chokes in reaction to the punchline of his own joke. "HAHA! Ack..cough! Ha! Get it?! Kekeke! Your hair is orange-HA! And you're mad!! Huhu..."

Sebastian sat there silently. Mumbling a small, "Oh my god..", under his breath, more dumbstruck than anything. A small blush dusted across his face.

During Sebastian's trance of embarrassment, Randal had composed himself, turned on the TV, and wrapped one of Luther's homemade knitted blankets around the two.

Randal turned it to a random horror movie channel while snaking his arm around Sebastian's shoulder, forcefully pulling him closer.

Sebastian was now even more confused. Randal didn't usually share this much skinship with him. Something was off, something that wasn't the usual insane Ivory household kind of off.

The curly-haired redhead glanced over at the shorter boy and noticed a slight sweat breaking out across his face. Maybe even a hint of red...is he trying to play it suave right now?

Sebastian shrugged it off and directed his attention toward the small screen in front of them. A large title appeared with the words, "The Babadook", displayed on the screen.

Sebastian could feel Randal flinch.

As the movie progressed, so did the grip on Sebastian's shoulder. Randal Ivory wasn't one to be afraid. The only thing that ever got even close to scaring him was his older brother.

Although the humanoid creature didn't appear on screen very often, something about its long fingers and humongous stature gave off the impression of Luther when he was livid, which frightened the cryptid quite a bit.

Surprisingly, Sebastian was unbothered, the exact opposite of his usual demeanor. In fact, he was so relaxed that he noticed the psychopathic boy next to him shaking.

Sebastian never really felt bad for Randal, whether he lost his Game Boy privileges for the week, or Luther made him sit in the "bad boy closet", it was no matter to Tomato Smith.

But something about the way he looked, clinging to the curly-headed ginger, shaking in fear, Sebastian found it a little cute.

Taking pity on the boy, Sebastian leaned his body on Randal's tenderly. The young Ivory's attention went from the movie, to the feeling of his pets warmth on his own cold skin.

"Keke..you scared already, Sebastian?, Randal teased, attempting to hide his own fear. Sebastian looked down, trying to suppress a small smirk. "Yeah, I'm real spooked...", he replied sarcastically.

Randal, not noticing the sarcasm, grinned confidently, bathing in yet another ego boost. "Do not fear, pet, I will protect you from the Babadookie!", Randal gleamed.

Sebastian looked away, giggling at the word choice. "Wow, thank you so much, Dark Prince, I'm forever in your debt.", he played along, earning a proud huff from Randal.

Maybe this freak wasn't so bad.

#ranfren #randals friends #sebastian de tomato smith chicken legs #randal ivory #nyen catman #nyon catman #first post #fanfic #oneshot #luther von ivory #trending #writing #boop #boop o meter #gay #homosexual

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joels6string · 1 year

Text

More Than My Father's Son

Joel Miller x f!OC

Chapter 8 - Slow-Cooked Dreams

Summary: A day out and a night in are ready to force someone's hand into finally giving in.

Rating: E

Word Count: 5k

Content: NSFW, high levels of violence normal to the TLOU world, angst, fluff, miscommunication trope (it’s Joel Miller…), slow burn, Joel’s traumatic childhood, getting together, smut, canon divergence after SLC, fix it fic

As the air grew colder, you’d grown warmer, and somehow he’d remained a target of your blossoming affinity for company and laughter.

Chapter 7 || Series Masterlist

“What the hell are you lookin’ for again?”

“A crockpot.”

“The hell do you need with a crockpot, Chef Boyardee?”

“It ain’t for me. And I cook better’n you do, kept food on your plate, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They were on neighborhood two, house six, the two Miller brothers loudly rummaging through cabinet after cabinet in search of Joel’s prize. A light dusting of snow covered the countertops as he stood from his crouched position, the flurries fluttering in from the shattered remains of a window as Tommy swung open a large pantry, the top hinge snapping from the force of it. The eruption of gruff laughter could be heard from the sidewalk outside, had anyone been around, and when Tommy pulled out the gaudiest set of mixing bowls that definitely would have been worth money if the world hadn’t gone to shit. They didn’t even need to speak to know what came next.

Fruit-adorned porcelain sat in a row on the front porch railing, Joel’s rifle locked and loaded as he aimed through the remnants of a storm door’s window, the first and biggest bowl shrieking as the echo of gunfire still reverberated through the mountains. Tommy went next, and the two alternated before the remnants of the antiques crunched beneath their boots, rows of clear drinking glasses flanking a coordinated pitcher as they pushed the guilt of wasting ammo to the wayside in favor of continuing the lighthearted laughter that had settled.

Tommy took out a glass in the middle of the left line, Joel took out the end of the right, and as Tommy lined up again, a familiar sight came into view.

“What the fuck are you two doing?!” you called out from the street, out of breath and sweating despite the frigid temperature.

“Just havin’ a little fun!” Joel called out mischievously, “Aren’t you supposed to be at the river?”

“Did the river. It’s clear. And then we hear gunshots on the way back and I raced over, all to find you in a battle with…Pyrex!”

“You gonna come up here and join us?”

He watched as you battled with maintaining your scolding position or giving in to the game at hand. He knew which one you’d choose. It had been two weeks since Tommy and Maria allowed you back on patrols a few times a week, not with the frequency of before but it was enough to scratch the stir-crazy itch that had put you into an even more agitated state than you already were. Joel had begged and reasoned, he’d even taken you out into the fields just up the hill from the gates with an assault rifle in hand, firing shots into bales of hay until you could make it from 3 shots to 10 before screaming at him to stop. Then days later it was 20, and then with a deep breath you managed to look at him with those bright green eyes untainted by fear and nod; it wasn’t perfect, it still scared you half to death, but you’d gotten enough of a grasp on it that Indy got her preferred partner back three times a week, your other days spent still sharpening the kids’ skills with a bow safely in the walls of Jackson.

“C’mon now,” he beckoned with a sly grin as he held the rifle out towards you, “Don’t be a bummer.”

“My mother would kill me if she knew I was shattering these historical relics,” you jested as you approached, “The pitcher is mine.”

“Go on then, Legolas. Last I knew I still had you beat in rifle work.”

“You watched Lord of the Rings?”

“No. I read it.”

“Guess that’s what we’re watching next.”

“Get that in one shot from behind that couch and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

The obstacles they’d set up in their game were still in place, a couch ten yards away set centered to the now empty door frame. Not like they needed to lock the place up. You positioned yourself behind it as if it were a blockade, a brother on either side, one intently watching the state of the glass outside, the other’s gaze firmly fixated on you and the way the snow nestled in the strands of your hair. He watched as you lined up the shot, confidence in your movements as the heel of the rifle nestled into your shoulder. Perfect form. He should have known.

One shot echoed, the shattering of glass following, your beaming, smug smile shining up at him. He couldn’t help but let the corner of his own lips tug up towards his eye and he nodded proudly. He was hoping you’d make it.

“Your place or mine?” you asked, dragging your lower lip through your teeth in that way that drove him insane.

“Well you just did your…what was it again? Winter cleanin’?” he teased, recalling finding you on your hands and knees scrubbing the grout in your tiled bathroom floor last weekend when he came to grab you for the now-ceremonial bi-weekly market trip.

“You knock it, but I’ll be hibernating through the mountains’ winter with sparkling baseboards and shiny faucets. And come spring, I’ll have less to do.”

“If you say so.”

“You’re the one saying you want to come to my place because it’s clean.”

You had him there. It always smelled like lavender and the green of the plants you’d begun to accrue from people around town invited him into the space you’d made your own. As the air grew colder, you’d grown warmer, and somehow he’d remained a target of your blossoming affinity for company and laughter. He’d always known it was there, Ellie had always brought out the side of you that was buried beneath years of torment and hardship, but now you were releasing it for others to experience now and it was a wonder in and of itself. The way your nose scrunched up and your eyes crinkled at the corners when you laughed never ceased to pull a smile from him, it was like you were the god damn sun and he was just a moon in orbit, forever searching for more of your light. But you were still just as fierce, just as deadly, if not more so now with a steady place to anchor both physically and seemingly within yourself. He was infatuated. It was dangerous.

“Alright you two,” Tommy chimed in with a knowing tone, Joel had just been staring at you and the way your eyes sparkled with pride and victory, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, “We should get back.”

“Did you boys search the place?” you asked as you stood, “I’m still looking for a fucking slow cooker.”

Joel couldn’t help but smirk at himself, tipping his chin down to hide his satisfied expression.

“We looked down here, upstairs is all yours.”

With Joel's rifle still in hand, you took off up the stairs, Joel avoiding Tommy’s eyes that he knew were waiting to be acknowledged. He wasn’t in the mood to hear one of Tommy’s speeches, he didn’t know what Joel had been forced to become privy to so many years ago. Tommy and his idealistic views that had somehow maintained even through the end of the world didn’t know the pain on the other side, and Joel prayed he never would.

His attention followed your boot steps on the creaking floor above. He knew no one was in the house, but that didn’t ease his heightened senses as his ears tracked you through the rooms. What he didn’t catch was the way his feet also carried him slowly beneath you. Nothing more than a moon in orbit.

“Hey Joel!” you called, “Joel!”

“Yeah?!” he responded loudly up the stairwell, your head peeking over the landing down at him.

“Come help me real quick.”

You were standing beneath a boarded-up attic, hands on your hips, the scar that decorated the seam of your jaw and throat on full display as you stared up at the ceiling.

“I ain’t that tall,” he mused, standing beside you and leaning his shoulder against the wall.

“Just boost me up,” you replied nonchalantly like you’d done this a thousand times before, “that wood is fucking ancient. I can snap it.”

“If you say so.” This you had done before. “Up you go.” Your legs surrounded his head as you sat atop his broad shoulders, his knees straightening and pushing you up to grip against the rotted slats.

After a few good tugs, you did exactly what you said you would, the barrier snapping beneath your leather gloves as you gave a small victorious laugh. At this height, you were able to simply pull yourself up into the attic, tossing him down a ladder so he could join you, his eyes automatically sweeping for threats as soon as the space came into view. You were already rummaging through boxes, not a care in the world, and his heavy sigh as he hoisted himself up had you whirling back to stare at him.

“Gettin’ old, Tex?” you teased, his nostrils flaring in a way that had your face twisting in annoyed confusion, “What?”

“You need to be more god damn careful,” he scolded, growling into your ear as his chest brushed over your shoulder, “Anyone…or anything, could have been up here.”

“In a boarded-up attic? That’s one impressive food supply by the age of that wood and the rust on the nails. Lighten up, Joel. I can assess my surroundings just fi—“

Creaking turned to splintering as you turned back towards the pile of boxes you’d been searching through, his still-sharp reflexes wrapping his arm around your middle and pulling you back just far enough to keep your feet on solid ground as a gaping hole where you’d just been standing sent light beaming into the dark space.

As the shock wore off, he could feel the way your breath was heaving in his grip, your fingers woven through his against your stomach as you gripped him and he cursed the cold weather for making leather gloves a necessity. It was instinctual the way he leaned his head against yours, his arm pulling you tighter as he pushed the what-if from his mind and grounded in the reality of you not impaled on the wood piercing up towards the sky, memories of his own injury that had almost left Ellie alone and abandoned in Colorado flooding back. He could feel the rebar piercing through his stomach, the agony of being pulled off, and the panic that had set in when hunters swarmed the old science building, leaving Ellie to defend him bleeding and sputtering on the floor.

“Please be careful.” It was a whispered plea, not a demand but a desperate request.

He felt you nod, your spine curling slightly to fit the contour of his chest, and the way you leaned back into him had his eyes drifting closed as the subtle scent of lavender paired with the warmth of your body and softness of your hair against his cheek infiltrated his senses.

“What the hell was that?!” Tommy yelled as he ran up the stairs to the second floor, his voice pulling both of you from the safety of the moment and back into reality, “Joel?”

“It’s alright!” Joel called back, turning his head to not yell into your ear but immediately returning as soon as the words left his lips, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you gasped, and he swore he felt you nestle your head against him further for a split second, your hair catching on his beard before you pulled away without a glance back, “Help me look around?”

The meekness in your voice was unsettling, but he agreed, lingering within arm’s reach as you found boxes of cold-weather clothing, pots and pans, Christmas decorations, and children’s toys. Tommy had gotten involved, both yours and his eyes lighting up at the hoard of useful supplies, Tommy taking box after box through the hole in the ceiling (from his perspective) as you and Joel worked as an assembly line in the attic on wood he’d deemed safe to stand on.

As luck would have it, two large sleds were tucked into a back corner, their width when tied together with a thick wool blanket between them working like a sling just barely wide enough to fit the haul of supplies thanks to Joel’s ingenuity. Tommy and his horse hauled it along between you in the front and Joel bringing up the rear, the silence giving you time to reflect as the barren trees gnarled up towards the sky and the steady hoof steps of Bill your not-so pony echoed through the mountain's well-worn paths.

It had been awhile since you’d been close enough to Joel to feel that lingering comfort of the scent of warm leather and sawdust that clung to him despite the canvas jacket he wore. The effect was still the same. Your head was swimming with the heat of summer, the phantom of his palms gripping the backs of your thighs, the sway of your horse mimicking that of Joel’s steady stride. You dwelled in these memories more than you’d ever admit, and far more than you preferred.

Everything was so pleasant now. And you’d come to depend on him in ways you’d been warned many years ago to not dare consider. But none of it felt wrong. In fact, it had felt more right than any other decision you’d made. But still, that voice nagged in the back of your head that this was a bad idea, a risk, a disaster in the making, yet still a piece of you clung to the hope that this was different. He was gentle and kind—to you at least—attentive and generous, capable and strong, he was a man that shouldn’t exist after all he’d been through yet there he was, slinging a coat still warm from the heat of his body around your shoulders after you’d been too stubborn to wear one to your weekly Bison trip or fixing the leaky sink in your kitchen without so much as a grumble of irritation. But although you had changed entirely since arriving at the safe haven settlement of Jackson, the world hadn’t. And that was something you were constantly reminded of.

Both of you helped Tommy unload the supplies at the inn, with you promising to return tomorrow to help Maria sort through them as he and Joel went out on yet another patrol. Things had gotten worse lately, both with infected and hunters, there was no shortage of bodies laden with bullets in the surrounding woods.

“What’s this over here?” you asked as you tried to sort the boxes into categories to make the job easier tomorrow, your hand sliding over Joel’s back as you snuck through the small space between him and the wall, his muscles twitching beneath your touch as it grazed over him, “Can you put it over there?” you asked sweetly, peering up at him with a smile as he nodded, a soft “thanks” following as your fingers repeated their previous motion on your way back to the front of the room.

It made his stomach hurtle to the floor. You’d been doing it for weeks now, fleeting touches as you passed by, playful hands on his shoulders, and knees resting against his beneath a table. Not reading into it had been almost impossible, the fact you also did the same with Indy and Ellie was the only place to ground himself he had. It was just you and how you’d rediscovered parts of yourself that had long been buried.

“Joel!” Ellie’s exuberant voice called out as she rounded the corner, both your and Joel’s attention turning as your boots hit the street, “Joel…Cat found me…a Nintendo.”

“A what?” Joel chuckled at the way she was sucking in air.

“A Nintendo. You know…video games.”

“Oh, right. Well I’m sure you’ll have a blast with that.”

“Do you wanna play?”

“I think…playin’ with your friends is gonna be way more fun. I don’t know what I’m doin’ with those things.”

“Neither do I.”

Your elbow jutting into his ribs had his eyes snapping over to you, your eyebrows raising in a silent urging as you ticked your chin towards Ellie at his other side.

“She wants to play with you,” you hissed through your teeth, hoping he could hear it and Ellie couldn’t, realization falling over his face, softening the fine lines etched into his sun-darkened skin.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have needed to be told that. It was all there in the hopeful gaze staring back at him, another pair of big green eyes that could work wonders against his stubborn ways. As the tug-of-war between his own self-loathing and the swell of pride Ellie’s desire to spend time with him raged, his cheeks flushing pink as the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, your own reassuring one caught in his peripherals.

“Arrow comin’ too?” he asked mischievously, knowing Ellie would never pass up a chance to have you around and damn if he wasn’t going to take advantage of that.

“Duh,” she retorted, and you smiled fondly at the ground as your chin tipped to your chest, warmth flooding your chilled cheeks.

“Alright kiddo,” he finally obliged, “go set it up.”

Without a word, Ellie was sprinting back the way she came, Joel once again focusing his attention on you. There was a softness present, a vulnerability swimming through hazel that was typically hard as stone.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he said with a bashful tone, and you shook your head, “I’ll grab dinner from the Bison if you wanna head over around 6.”

After a shower, the hoodie you’d managed to snag from the swap shop welcomed you in, a loose pair of sweatpants to match being donned after you twisted your hair into a messy bun; those two had seen you at far worse, one step from sleepwear wouldn’t change their opinions of you. The sun had already begun to set as you meandered your way to the white house on Rancher street, one your instincts could bring you to in your sleep, your knuckles rapping three times on the door before you let yourself in with a bellowing “hey” at the owner’s previous insistence.

“Kitchen!” Ellie yelled, “Joel forgot to get you no tomato!”

“Why do you gotta tell her?!” you could hear him scolding as you approached, “I’m fixin’ it anyway!”

“Because it’s funny.”

“It ain’t funny… You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

“It’s kinda funny,” you agreed as you rounded into the dining room with a table too grand for the three of you, plates set out with each of your favorites from the only restaurant in town.

“I told him,” Joel defended, dropping a pitcher of lemonade onto the table hard enough to have some sloshing out, “I swear.”

“Is this Ellie’s famous lemonade I’ve been hearing about?” you asked after giving Joel a sarcastic nod of agreement, his flustered groan the reward you were seeking as he left to find napkins in the kitchen, “I’m surprised they gave you enough lemons to make all this.”

“Who says they gave them to me?”

A knowing scoff huffed free from your lips, Joel rounding back in with three old cloths he passed out before sitting down beside you and across from Ellie, the head of the table left empty. Joel’s penchant for leaving his elbows on the table had been something you’d grown fond of, awkward bumps soon turning into shoulders pressed together when space became sparse without a blink. He’d been bashful about it initially, the first time it happened during one of the group’s nights at the Bison, his cheeks burning red as he attempted to make his large, broad frame smaller by gluing his elbows to his sides and pinching his knees together beneath the wooden table. But it had grown to a common occurrence, soon bringing with it fleeting touches and gentle contact like it was a natural thing, entirely normal, almost expected.

“So what games did you get?” you asked Ellie as Joel filled your glass with lemonade, a small smile thanking him before you flicked your attention back to the excited teenager in front of you.

“There’s a few but the only one I care about is ‘The Turning’,” she replied with thrill and competitiveness in her voice, “Riley told me all about it. Can’t believe I finally get to play.”

“Do you know how to?”

“No… Not really. Her and I pretended to once at… But I’ve never actually played.”

“What about you, Greybeard?” Another side eye earned, but the corner of his mouth twitching at the link to his own nickname he’d used on you earlier.

“Never tried,” Joel huffed, “I never liked those things.”

“A grump even before the world went to shit. How fitting.” He may have thought the side-eye he gave in response was discreet but he found himself wrong as you laughed. “Guess you’re both learning today.”

“I assume you’re world champion of whatever this game is?” he drawled, leaning back in his seat and draping his arm over the back of your chair.

“No. I was always terrible. My brother always beat me. So I look forward to winning my first fight tonight against you.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Are we ready?” you diverted, standing from your half-finished plate under Joel’s scrutinizing gaze.

Ellie’s suite as you’d come to call it welcomed the three of you, Joel looking massive in the small space that contained everything a home would. A small bathroom was nestled beside a functioning kitchen thanks to the hot plate you’d found, her bed nestled on one side, a desk, wood stove, and small living room on the other. She’d set up the Super Nintendo unit on the TV across from her bed, the welcome screen of the combat game “The Turning” already sending the tacky techno music of its home screen ricocheting off the walls.

“I hate it already,” Joel mumbled as he took a seat on the edge of the mattress, you and Ellie sandwiching him in as she threw a control into his lap, “What button does what?”

“Hell if I know,” Ellie retorted, mashing the B button, then A, then Start and finally finding success.

“Well you know,” Joel pointed out, turning his attention to you, “How do we play this thing?”

“I’m gonna let you figure it out,” you taunted, crossing your legs in front of you and staring at the TV, Joel’s angry grumbles under his breath the only real victory you wanted that night.

It was all mashed buttons, excited yelps from Ellie as she landed each kick, punch, and combo with her chosen character—Angel Knives—and a follow-up frustrated groan or “Oh c’mon now!” from Joel as his eyebrows furrowed further than you’d ever seen them descend.

“I landed that!” he bellowed at the screen as his character dropped dead yet again, “I landed that hit! This is…rigged or somethin’.”

“One more!” Ellie challenged, “Best two out of three.”

“You’ve won twice.”

“Three to be the best.”

As she queued up another round, Joel glanced over at you beside him, his eyes gentle and gracious. He asked if you were having fun, a question to which you nodded in response with a content smile settled on your lips, one that he mirrored as he stayed trapped in the bubble of your gaze. Ellie was nudging him, telling him it was time to choose, he had to pick his fighter (he’d chosen differently for each other round), but it was only after you averted your attention did he finally refocus on the task at hand.

“I’m gonna whoop your ass, you old fogey,” Ellie growled through gritted teeth, her expression all fire and focus.

“You say that like it’s hard,” he teased, mostly himself.

It began as all the others had, Joel’s fingers fumbling over the buttons, Ellie landing combo after combo, and that’s when your pity for the man beside you finally won out.

“Hit the two on the left at the same time,” you instructed, your palm sliding over his knee as you leaned over to watch his hands closely.

“Wh-what?” he stammered, cheeks flushing crimson, “Oh…”

Art from @natendo-art 🥺

The combo landed, Angel Knives taking some significant damage much to Ellie’s dismay, her calls about cheating beginning immediately as you continued to coach Joel through the moves, your hand staying pressed against his thigh. Thanks to your narration, he was able to focus his eyes on the buttons, pressing each one with each of your commands with almost foolproof accuracy.

“You need glasses,” you whispered to him as Ellie groaned in frustration at her loss, Joel smiling ear to ear at his victory, “But congrats, old man.”

You were up next to face the vicious ire of retribution against Ellie and Angel Knives, your victories coming with difficulty but you pulled them off nonetheless, Joel cheering right along with every kick and punch landed. He muttered under his breath, you were positive he assumed you couldn’t hear him, or perhaps he had no idea he was doing it, but when you won the third of three (to be the best) you got a taste of what the man was probably like watching the football games he still reminisced about.

“All right you two,” you announced through the two of them bickering again about their final match being too close to cheating for Ellie to accept, “I’m heading home. I’ll see you,” you shoved Joel’s shoulder playfully,” tomorrow night. And you,” you pointed at Ellie, “tomorrow morning for practice.”

“Yes ma’am,” they said in unison, Joel’s tone much happier than Ellie’s who found target practice annoying. She had a right to. She didn’t really need it, but you weren’t about to relinquish her to the possibility of patrol training just yet.

“I’ll walk ya home,” Joel tacked on, giving Ellie a one-armed hug goodnight before following you out the door.

For the last 20 years, routine had felt like a pipedream. It was survival, basic and primal, not a steady pillar walking beside you every time the streets were dark to ensure you made it home safe in a town where risks didn’t exist within the walls. They were typically silent, so comfortable and soothing, the scrape of his boots against the pebbles along the road always enough to fill the space. A heavy canvas jacket was hung silently over your shoulders, your hands pulling it tighter as you bathed in the heat trapped in the fabric. There was that familiar smell again battering against your tired brain, the moon bathing the silver strands of his hair bright enough that you could see it in your peripherals. The sight of your house was almost unwelcome now, it meant the night was coming to an end, and not even the guarantee of this happening again tomorrow, as it always did, was comfort enough to soothe the ache.

“My brother died before the outbreak,” you blurted out three houses down from your own, “Cancer.”

“Oh,” he sighed, coming to a stop beside you, “Sorry I asked.”

“No. I-I don’t know why I didn’t just…”

“S’fine.”

Always so forgiving and willing to forget, unless you were Paulie to which Joel still held a brutal vendetta against. He didn’t let the man within two people of you at any time, his eyes were always watchful when you shared a space. Paulie had already tried to get him to ease up, he’d apologized profusely, but it fell on deaf ears. Clearly for Joel, what had transpired was unjustifiable, and it was a fate Paulie had finally accepted.

“Hey, look,” he cooed tipping his head and turning you at the shoulders to face your right.

The lights of the Aurora Borealis shone brightly in the sky. Greens and purples erupted over the mountain tops, your breath hitching as you took in the sight for the first time. His hands remained perched on your upper arms, and in your shock and awe, you found yourself leaning back against him. The rise and fall of his chest was rhythmic and entrancing once again, but this time there was no fear as there had been earlier this afternoon as you stared down the gaping hole that had almost claimed you. Here it felt like home.

“Ever see that before?” he asked softly in your ear, and you shook your head, too stunned and comfortable for words, “Me neither. C’mere, let’s get a better view.”

Your eyes were locked on the sight as he led you through town, you had not the faintest idea where you headed, only knowing that you trusted the man leading you implicitly. Before you knew it, you were faced with a ladder, the watchtower of the East gate reaching high into the sky above you. Jesse was up there, one of the newer patrolmen, and Joel told him to go take a breather and leave his gun as you both climbed up onto the small landing.

"Everything you hoped for?" he asked barely above a whisper, his voice cracking, the quietness of his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

It was a better view up here. The colors rippled across the sky as the cool air bit against your cheeks. Joel had nestled up behind you once again, his body far enough away to leave you space but close enough that a simple adjustment would have you pressed against him once again. You opted for the latter, two thick forearms caging you in as he braced himself against the railing. It was here you stayed until Jesse’s arrival back cued it was time to leave. You’d thought you’d known peace here in Jackson; your turmoil had settled to a manageable level, the friendships built far more than anything you’d had in the past, and the security swaddling you like a blanket had created a world you never thought possible. But it wasn’t until now as the warmth behind you pulled away that you realized it wasn’t any of those things that helped silence the long-raging storm.

It was him.

Chapter 9

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #more than my father’s son

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baxtershairdye · 7 months

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Baked With Love

◦ Baxter and MC are baking a cake for Liz’s birthday. But this time not at the last minute.

◦ This takes place after Baxters DLC, where he and MC share an Apartment.

◦ Gn! MC.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You hummed along to the radio in the kitchen as you unpacked the groceries Baxter had picked up from the store on his way home from work. You smiled at him as he moved behind you, placing a hand on the small of your back as he passed you by, kissing the top of your head before disappearing to change into something more suitable for the task at hand. He didn’t want to risk messing up one of his suits after all.

A few moments later your boyfriend returned in a simple T-shirt and A pair of possibly designer Sweatpants. Not that you could personally tell the difference anyways. “Nice and cozy?” You mused, setting a mixing bowl down on the counter as he sauntered back into the kitchen. “Oh, extremely.” He responded in kind, leaning against the counter as he watched you set everything out. He didn’t have much experience with baking. Hell he’d only baked twice in his entire life, both times being with you, in fact baking cakes together seemed to be a common experience with you two. Only this time it wasn’t done in the middle of the night, just hours until the treat would be needed.

He snapped out of his thoughts noticing your apparent struggle with getting the hand mixer out of the upper cabinet. Wordlessly he glided up behind you, placing a hand on your hip as he reached up effortlessly pulling the device down for you, handing it to you with a knowing smile on his face. Your face dusted pink as you stared up at him gingerly taking the mixer from him, quickly turning away muttering a “Thank you.” as you plugged in the mixer.

He chuckled, amused by your shyness. Even after being together for so long he still found you'd get flustered by the simplest of things. “Of course, anytime.” He nodded following you over to the counter picking up your phone to take a look at the recipe you’d pulled up. “Are you sure we can make this? It looks complicated.” He asked, scrolling through the instructions, going ahead and setting the oven to preheat. “How hard could it really be?” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders. “As long as we follow the instructions I think we’ll be just fine.” You assured him taking the phone away from him.

“Come on, Let’s get to it, I don't wanna be here all night.” You stated, pulling one of the bowls to you. “Oh too good for late night baking all of a sudden.” Baxter teased as you handed him a whisk, pushing the dry ingredients to one side for him. “Never but I would Like to be in bed at a reasonable time. I still have a few things to do tomorrow.” You answered as he rolled his eyes. “You, in bed at a reasonable time? That I'd love to see.” He responded and you gasped, reaching over to hit him lightly on the shoulder.

Baxter laughed rubbing his arm in mock pain as you made a face at him. “As if you’re one to talk!” You complained. “Touche.” He Agreed with a shrug of his shoulders. “But at least I wake up with less of a fight now. Unlike someone we know.”

“You’re so right, Cove is a pain in the ass to wake up.” You joked causing Baxter to pause shooting you a look that could only have said. Are you kidding me right now? Baxter may not have been particularly close to Cove Holden but even he was aware of what an unnatural early bird to man was. You couldn’t help but laugh. “It was worth a shot.” You grinned at him, setting your phone on the counter between the two of you so you could easily read the recipe.

“You couldn’t think of anything more convincing?” He questioned reading off a measurement, scooping out the needed amounts, focusing on his task taking great care to get them as close to perfect as he could. “Maybe. But where's the fun in that?” You laughed as Baxter opened his mouth to speak, getting interrupted by a notification sound coming from his pocket. He knitted his eyebrows together, fishing the device from his pocket unlocking the screen.

You watched him smiling to yourself as an idea struck you. Before he had time to notice you dipped your fingers into the bag of flour, flicking it at him just as he looked back at you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his surprised expression. You did have much time before you got a taste of your own medicine, a handful of flour being tossed back at you as you shrieked in surprise. You took a step back instinctively looking down at your now flour covered shirt. Your boyfriend's melodic laughter breaks your surprise as he tries to stifle his laugh.

“Oh you think this is funny?” You laughed getting closer to him tugging his hands away from his mouth as he laughed. “I actually do.” He managed as his laughter died down. Looking down at you with a soft expression pulling one hand from your grasp, lacing his other hand with yours as he brushed the flour from your cheek with his thumb.

“I might have gone a bit overboard.” He suggested causing you to roll your eyes. “Nooo really?” You laughed letting him attempt to dust you off. “I apologize. How can I make it up to you?” He wondered only half joking. “Well, I wouldn't turn down a kiss.” You spoke shifting so you leaned against the counter.

He tilted his head at you before smiling softly. “It’s doable~” He hummed, tilting your chin up to look at him, as he closed the distance between the two of you. The kiss was soft, and full of affection. It only lasted a few seconds before he pulled away, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head, as you pouted at him as he pulled away. “Sorry I thought you said you wanted to get this done quickly.” He teased going back to his bowl urging you to do the same. Begrudgingly you went back to work, each of you combining the wet and dry ingredients and putting it in the greased cake pan.

You got to work on the frosting as Baxter put the cake in the oven. You hummed along to the radio as you worked, Baxter moving to rest his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist as he swayed with you to the beat of the music. “You just can’t help yourself can you?” You questioned glancing back at him, feeling him press his nose into the crook of your neck. “Nope. But there’s no harm in dancing with my Partner every now and then.” He pointed out. It still gave him butterflies to refer to you as his partner. Especially since for so long he believed he’d missed his shot. Granted he almost did… Lucky for him you were forgiving enough to give him another shot.

You peered back at him, noticing he had gone silent. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?” You asked as he shifted his head to watch what you were doing. “Mhm..just thinking how lucky I am..” He muttered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “And how Incredibly happy I am to be with you.” He finished. Your heart swelled as he spoke, a soft smile appearing on your features.

“And about..how in love with you I am.” He added trailing off as he spoke. You paused your mixing staring down at the bowl in front of you processing his words. Had he said what you thought he said? Did he…Did he love you? Your mind raced as you abandoned the mixer turning in his arms so you could fully face him. He loosened his hold allowing you to turn around but looked anywhere but at you, desperate to avoid your gaze. His face burned a bright shade of red.

You reached up holding his face turning his head to look at you, staring up at him a rosy hue making itself boldly apparent on your own face. “Do you mean it?” You asked, watching him glance away for a moment. “You should know by now I don’t usually beat around the bush like this.” He admitted effectively avoiding the question in his own statement. “Baxter.” You stated gaining his attention once again as he watched your expression as you repeated yourself again. “Did you mean it?

“I do. You have no idea how much.” He admitted, reaching up, placing his hand on top of yours. He watched you anxiously for a moment before attempting to speak again “It’s alright you don’t-” He began only to be interrupted by you pulling him into a kiss so quick your teeth hit his own. He made a noise of acknowledgement before recovering, pulling you in, pressing you to his chest as he returned the kiss.

He could taste the mint from your chapstick. It wasn’t a flavor he particularly cared for but at this moment he found it to be incredibly addictive. Your hand moved from his cheek to the back of his head, your fingers weaving themselves between the silky black strands as Baxter backed you up against the counter effectively boxing you in. pulling away for a moment to compose himself. His face flushed as he looked at you with half lidded eyes and a lovestruck expression.

“I love you too.” You managed after catching your breath pressing your forehead against his, A happy smile on both of your face as you stood with each other basking in the moment before. “Is something burning?” Baxter pointed out glancing at the oven as your head snapped up.

“THE CAKE!” You exclaimed pulling away and Making a mad dash for the oven barely remembering to grab an oven mitt as you opened the oven door fanning away the smoke that flooded the apartment daring to set off the fire alarm. Defeated, you set the pan on the counter staring at your crispy cake as Baxter fanned the smoke detector glancing over at the mess on the counter. Already aware this was about to turn into another late night baking session.

“I’ll get the wine…”

#olba #our life #cove holden #gb patch #baxter ward #our life beginnings & always

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maxineholtzmann · 3 months

Text

Hey new friends! If you're here because of my recent ficlet, I have a longer steddie fic on ao3 you might be interested in! Here's a snippet:

PROJECT EASY-BAKE

ONE - WEDNESDAY, MARCH 26th, 1986

Max Mayfield was up to something. She’d popped over on Sunday to ask for flour. Then again on Tuesday. Now it was Wednesday and here she was on Eddie’s front porch again.

“I need to borrow 2 cups of flour,” she said flatly, holding the same red plastic mixing bowl she’d been holding the last two times.

“Wow, no ‘Hi Eddie, you’re such a great neighbour, how are you doing’? This is the third time this week you’ve asked for flour. What the hell are you baking and why are you baking it in such high quantities? ” Eddie crossed his arms, leaning on the door frame of his trailer.

“None of your business, Edward. If you don’t have any I can just go ask Mrs Murphy down the road,” Max started to turn away, moving exaggeratedly slowly, glancing sidelong back at Eddie to see if he would stop her. Of course he was going to stop her–Mrs Murphy would trap her in her trailer for the next six hours if she went over there.

“Fine–you can have the flour. But I do think I deserve some kind of explanation about what it’s all for and why you haven’t just gone to buy your own bag of flour by now,” Eddie stepped back into the trailer, beckoning Max in. The girl turned, her braids whipping Eddie’s chest lightly as she stalked past him to the kitchen.

“Yeah, because I can just carry a whole bag of flour home from the grocery store on my skateboard,” Max said, rolling her eyes as she set the bowl down on the counter. She made quick work of locating the bag of flour in the cupboard and grabbing the measuring cup off the counter where she had left it the day before.

“Couldn’t Harrington take you? I know he chauffeurs all you freshmen around for whatever reason. I saw his car here on Monday,” Eddie was on a fishing expedition. He’d been trying all year to figure out why his little sheep were all obsessed with Steve Harrington of all people–maybe Max was his way in.

Max grimaced slightly, measuring out the first cup of flour carefully into the bowl, “Normally, yeah I could ask him. But not for this.”

“What, does he have a vendetta against the grocery store or something?” Eddie hopped up on the counter next to her.

“Get your ass off the counter, that’s not sanitary,” Max lightly shoved his legs, getting flour on his black jeans.

“If you think anything in this kitchen is sanitary , Red, you’d be incorrect. Stop changing the subject–what is all of this for? And why on god’s green Earth do you not want Harrington to know about it?” Eddie scooted closer as Max carefully measured out the second cup of flour.

She paused, considering. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

Eddie perked up, of course , he should have thought of this earlier. “Oh, so that’s it. You have a crush on Harrington. I mean, he’s a bit old for you, but I can see the appeal–”

“What? No! Ew! He’s like my weird hybrid brother-mom.” Max looked at him like he had five heads. “It’s his birthday next Tuesday and I’m trying to bake him a cake but every time I try it turns out disgusting. Sunday it was burnt and yesterday it was raw in the middle! He does a lot for us and I know no one else even knows when his birthday even is and I wanted to do something…nice, for once. If you tell anyone I said that I’ll kill you.”

“How do you know when his birthday is, then?” Eddie hopped down off the counter, leaning against it instead.

“I stole his wallet, saw his driver’s license,” Max shrugged, as if it was obvious. She dusted off her hands and closed up the bag of flour, placing it back in the cupboard.

“Wait, do you mean to tell me that Harrington’s birthday is April Fool’s Day ?” Eddie said after a moment, calculating in his head Tuesday’s date.

“Yes, and you are not allowed to tell anyone ,” Max said, scooping up her bowl of flour and pointing a finger up at him.

“What are you gonna do if I do, fight me?” Eddie scoffed outwardly, but he was a little sure that Mayfield could take him if she wanted to. She was small but scrappy.

Max rolled her eyes, “Oh Edwin, I don’t need to fight you. I know where you sleep and I own scissors. I’ll just cut your hair off in the night.” She smiled up at him sweetly.

Eddie yelped, hands instinctively going to his hair, as if by holding onto it he could prevent it from being cut.

“Now let’s go–I need adult supervision,” Max grabbed Eddie’s arm and hauled him out of the trailer. “And don’t think I forgot about your ability to ‘see the appeal’ of Steve.” She waggled her eyebrows at his stunned silence as she dragged Eddie across the road to her trailer.

Walking into the Mayfield’s trailer, it became apparent to Eddie almost immediately that Max’s mom was drinking again–there were beer bottles and cans all over the coffee table, side tables and dining table. The only surface clear of empties was the kitchen counter, which currently was covered in an assortment of baking ingredients and utensils.

“Okay, so the recipe says we need sugar, butter, eggs, cocoa, milk, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Here–” Max thrust a whisk into Eddie’s hands, “You can be my human mixer.”

“So it’s not so much ‘adult supervision’ and more ‘you don’t want to mix the batter by hand yourself’?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, but got to work whisking together the dry ingredients as Max measured and dumped them into the bowl.

“Look, if you help me with this, I can help you with your extremely sad crush on Steve.” Max continued measuring ingredients.

“I do not under any circumstances have a crush on Steve. I just want to know why all of you seem to worship him. Henderson won’t shut up about him! It’s all ‘Steve this’ and ‘Steve that’! He is far too beefy and hairy and tall and covered in tiny moles and clean and OH NO.” Eddie dropped the whisk, staring off into the middle distance in horror as he realized that he did in fact, under all circumstances, have a crush on Steve Harrington. And he had just admitted it to his child neighbour. Who was friends with Steve.

“There it is,” Max patted him on the arm. “Now get back to whisking.”

read the rest of Project Easy Bake on ao3!

#steddie #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #my fic #self promo

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haverdoodles · 1 year

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Sanctuary

— (Caerwyn & Te’lise)

TW// brief descriptions of treating wounds.

It was a quiet afternoon in Skyhold’s Apothecary.

The room was alight with the sun’s glow, turning the specks of dust floating past the windows into glittering gold. Te’lise might have admired it, as she admired all simple beauties in the world, had her attention not been so entirely focused on the comatose man currently lying in her bed.

His arrival the night before had been frightening and unexpected, heralded by a pounding at the door that had Te’lise lurching out of bed before her brain had even fully awakened. Bewildered, she had allowed a somber procession of ten Inquisition soldiers to come streaming in, at the front of which her patient was swaddled in a blanket and being gently carried. It hadn’t taken her long to snap out of her daze and into her Healer’s mindset, and she had ordered him to be set down on the heavy oak table in the middle of the room.

What followed was a long, exhausting, stressful night of trying to keep her patient alive. His right hand had recently been amputated after a battle wound had infected it beyond saving, according to one of his comrades, who had been filling her in as she rushed to and fro gathering armfuls of medicinal herbs and supplies. It seemed that the infection had now made a nasty reappearance, throwing his body into a state of sepsis. One of his comrades had found him lying unconscious outside of his tent, and they had immediately rushed him to her.

His name was Captain Caerwyn of Regiment Six, according to his worried companions. If he has a surname, they had no knowledge of it. According to them, he was a fine leader and an even finer gentleman, as well as their friend. It had taken much soothing on her part to convince them to leave her to work. It was clear that they cared a great deal for him, providing only further incentive for her to succeed.

Te’lise had spent the next four hours stabilizing Caerwyn’s condition. She had rubbed Royal Elfroot essence into the skin above his lymph nodes to reduce inflammation, applied cooling compresses to his forehead, neck, and torso, and placed a bowl of steaming water infused with Embrium extract nearby to clear his airways. Simultaneously, she had worked tirelessly at undressing his bandages, painstakingly cleaning out the infected mess that was his amputated arm, removing the necrotic flesh, sewing up the exposed tissue, and finally lathering the angry red skin with a soothing Elfroot salve. By the time one of the soldiers had managed to return with one of the free mages assigned to the Healing Ward, Te’lise had Caerwyn’s wounds cleaned and wrapped with fresh bandages. The mage was able to remove the infection in his blood after that, and he was successfully brought back from the brink of death.

Te’lise had proceeded to stay up at his bedside for the rest of the night and long into the morning, doing everything in her power to bring down his raging fever.

Presently, Te’lise sighed tiredly as she poured a fresh pitcher of water into the wooden bowl she had been using to wet cloths for his burning skin. Her eyes ached, her hands were shaking, and she had a headache that profoundly soured any bright mood she might have had on such a beautiful afternoon.

“Sylaise, preserve me,” she whispered into the silence of the room. “Falon’Din, have mercy. Let me save this man.”

A faint rustling came from the bed. Following it was a hoarsely whispered, “Is this the Beyond?”

Startled, Te’lise nearly upset the full bowl in front of her. She whirled and stopped short as her eyes met those of the wounded man in her bed.

“Oh!” She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.

The Captain blinked at her wearily, then slid his gaze around the Apothecary, taking in its cluttered interior with a hazy awareness. “Where…”

The sound of his voice snapped her out of her shock. “Hush, Serah, you must save your strength.” She hurried across the room to the tall shelf housing rows upon rows of vials of varying shapes and sizes, and selected one that she knew contained a healing tonic. “How are you feeling? Still feverish? Wait – do not answer that. Oh dear, you still seem so flushed… a cooling tonic too, then, perhaps…”

Te’lise shuffled over to the bed with an armful of vials and carefully placed them on the wooden stool beside the bed. When she glanced up, Caerwyn was watching her with the most peculiar expression. She felt herself flush, and offered a sheepish smile.

“Where am I?” He whispered hoarsely, observing as she worked at removing the stoppers of the vials.

“Well, certainly not in the Beyond,” Te’lise said warmly. “You are in Skyhold’s Apothecary. Your companions brought you in last night, when you were in critical condition.”

“Am I to presume… that you healed me?”

“I helped in healing you,” she acknowledged, raising the vial to his lips, “But I cannot solely claim credit for your recovery.”

“And yet you are the one who remains. For that, I am grateful.” He whispered, accepting the few mouthfuls of potion. Te’lise started at his words, and watched in surprise as the skin around his eyes crinkled in a faint imitation of a smile.

She took the vial from him and set it aside, searching his face. “How do you feel, Captain Caerwyn? Is the pain troubling you?”

“What I feel now is a blessing compared to the agony I endured before,” he assured her. “It is only—“

Caerwyn lifted his right arm and stopped abruptly, his face whitening. Te’lise followed his gaze to his amputated limb.

“Your hand had to be removed in order to stave off mortal infection,” she reminded him gently. “According to the Surgeon, it was the only way to save your life at the time.”

“I had forgotten.” He said.

There was terrible bleakness in his voice that squeezed at her heart. Without thinking, Te’lise reached out and gently placed a hand upon his shoulder. He stared down at it, then up at her with the expression of a man who was lost, and did not know how to find his way.

“What troubles you, Serah?” She asked him gently. Te’lise knew what troubled him, of course – she only wanted him to say the words.

Caerwyn exhaled, bitterly tossing his head back against the pillows. “What doesn’t? I am a soldier, a Captain in the Inquisition. I am to rally forces and lead warriors into battle under the Inquisitor’s banner. How am I to do this now that I am – I am –” He grimaced and turned his face away, but not before Te’lise caught a glimpse of the silver lining his dark lashes.

Te’lise watched him quietly for a moment, allowing him the time to compose himself. He was a strong, handsome man, she observed, and there was a gentleness in his face and demeanour that contrasted fascinatingly with his warrior’s physique.

‘What an interesting, beautiful person,’ she thought to herself, and began to speak.

“Did you know that I live with a chronic illness?” She said, and smiled when he looked over at her with a muted flash of surprise. “Indeed. It is a bit ironic, no? A sick Healer? I am also a mage, though most are never able to guess. This is because the illness that I live with prevents me from using magic extensively, for that would require more stamina and endurance than I physically possess. To do so harms me more than it helps.”

“But… is there not magic to…?” He asked tentatively.

“Perhaps there is,” Te’lise acknowledged. “But I have not encountered it in my lifetime. Perhaps I never will. Until recently, I had spent so long dreaming of a day when I could be cured. When I could be ‘whole’. That is how you feel now, isn’t it? You think yourself to be incomplete, because when mere days ago you had two hands, now you have only the one.”

“Yes,” Caerwyn whispered. “I cannot help it.”

“You are not incomplete because you are one-handed, Caerwyn,” Te’lise told him softly. “Just as I am not incomplete because I am ill. Someone wise once told me, ‘A tree does not derive its strength from its branches, but from its roots.’” She squeezed his shoulder gently, and whispered, “And now, just as a man does not derive his strength from his hands, but from his heart.”

She smiled at him as his eyes widened, patting the coverlet with her hand. “Your life will be a little different now, but it is far from over. Should you find the will to do it, you can ensure that your life is as rich and full as any other man’s, even one-handed. You are still capable of love, laughter, and thought. The sun is still shining, and the tall grasses still dancing in the wind. Shall we not enjoy these precious things while we can, instead of lamenting over what might have been?”

“You are wise, Healer,” he finally breathed, his jewelled eyes dancing across her face. “When but mere moments ago I was troubled, I now feel soothed. Can you heal with your words as well as your hands?”

Te’lise tipped her head back and laughed. “I used no magic here, Captain, only sound advice bestowed upon me by another.”

“Such modesty,” he said softly, and there was a tender, inquisitive note in his voice that made her face feel oddly warm. “Moments ago, you called me by my given name. ‘Caerwyn.’”

Te’lise blanched. “Ir abelas… that was entirely improper of me–“

“I took no offence to it, Healer,” he assured her, his eyes crinkling in a smile. “I only wanted to know your name in return.”

Te’lise lowered her gaze to the flowery coverlet, brushing a freckled hand over its surface. “My name is Te’lise,” she said softly. “Once, Te’lise Lavellan.”

“Te’lise,” he whispered, and suddenly her vision was filled by leaves dancing in the wind, and the sun’s glow as it bathed the sloping valleys of Alhan’amelan in golden light, the echoes of long-faded laughter caressing her face and falling away.

“I owe you my life,” Caerwyn said now, his eyes searching her face. “And now, I find myself thinking that I could not find a finer soul to owe my thanks to.”

Te’lise flushed and withdrew her hand, suddenly finding it difficult to meet his gaze. “You are very generous in your praise, Serah.”

Caerwyn cleared his throat. “I apologize. Normally I am not this… ah. Well. ‘Generous in my praise,’ as you put it.”

“Perhaps the medicine has loosened your tongue,” Te’lise said cheekily, and the two of them exchanged tentative smiles.

The months since Solas had left her shattered and bare in Crestwood had all but destroyed her, and her heart was only beginning to mend. But as Te’lise sat at her own bedside now, watching over the wounded man with gentle, jewelled eyes, she felt a knot in her heart hesitantly loosen, and a tender leaf on a barren branch began to unfurl.

In that moment, the world no longer felt as unbearable, and the realization made her smile.

New oc :) 👀 the piece features Caerwyn’s pet wolves in the background, Alifalon and Alhannon. I hope to draw more of them soon!

#caer’lise #te’lise lavellan #captain caerwyn #alifalon & alhannon #haverdoodles #art #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #dragon age inquisition #haverdoodles oc #digital art #quite proud of this one!

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