#dance fever universe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gutsby · 5 months

Text

Grow a Uterus and We'll Talk

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff, an absurd amount of baby rabies, and fluff. Don’t blame me if y’all get pregnant.

“You lay one finger on me and I’ll bite it off, Dixon.”

You’d done the same damn dance once a month, every month for the past two years, and you were starting to grow annoyed with your boyfriend’s advances.

“Would it really be tha’ bad if we tried it out…just once?” Daryl huffed.

“I don’t know,” you answered, shrugging, “Grow a uterus and we’ll talk.”

The archer playfully lunged at you from across the couch, but you easily side-stepped and took residence at the far end of the room. You reached for a stiletto to throw at his head if he came any closer.

“Still on the baby business, huh?” Carol called as she strode past the living room toward the kitchen.

“Ya know we’d make some damn cute crotch goblins,” Daryl yelled back. You rolled your eyes.

“That isn’t for you to decide, Daryl,” Carol’s voice seemed to toughen, even give him a scolding look from a distance away, “And if you knock her up before she’s ready, I’ll string you up by your balls and feed you to the walkers.”

The woman did not fuck around—and you loved her for it. Presently, you stuck your tongue out at Daryl as if to say, ‘See? I told you so’ and the man simply scowled. Flopped down on the couch and propped his dirty boots up on the coffee table.

“‘Course I wouldn’t try if ye weren’t ready,” he grumbled, “Jus’ wanted you ta consider it.”

You joined him on the couch and nudged his feet off the table.

“Is that why you’ve been parading every baby in Alexandria in my face for the past six months? Hoping I’d ‘consider’ things a little more?” you quipped, raising both eyebrows.

Daryl paused a beat, seemed to chew on his thoughts for a moment or two. Then he offered you a sheepish grin and said,

“Rick and Michonne really need the free childcare.”

You were itching to grab that high heel again. Before you could, though, a sound thundered through your foyer and the front door was thrown open wide. In the blink of an eye, Rick had stumbled through your entryway, passed off his infant to Daryl like a sack of potatoes, and raced back to the door.

“Rick, what the fuck?!” you shouted before he could escape.

“Date night,” Rick answered in a ragged breath, gripping the door frame while he glanced over at Daryl.

Daryl smiled and held Judith to his chest like she might’ve been the most precious thing in the universe. You narrowed your eyes.

“He put you up to this?” you asked, tipping your chin in Daryl’s direction.

Rick didn’t hesitate; he said that he had. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daryl shooting daggers at his friend. Promptly, Judith pawed at your boyfriend’s stubbled cheeks and babbled.

Sensing the tension in the air, Carol gathered her belongings and contemplated baking her bread elsewhere—or at least give you and Daryl some space to talk. She started toward the door,

“Walk a lady home?” she said to Rick.

Rick shot her a curious look but accepted anyway. Casting a sidelong glance to the man on the couch and the woman who was currently staring him down with an irate look in her eyes—you—he quickly surmised it was in his best interest to leave. Hopefully Judith was too young to catch on to any curse words that might be hurled in the next several minutes.

“Be good, you three,” Rick gave his parting words before following Carol outside. The door crashed shut behind them.

As soon as it had, you were back on your feet and traipsing out of the room.

“Come on,” Daryl whined.

He followed your steps into the kitchen with Judith still cradled in his arms. There was a pregnant pause as you rifled through your cabinets, wordlessly searching for some ingredients to bake whatever pastry it would take to get your mind off the discomfiture of this situation—you decided on muffins, at length.

It wasn’t like you hated babies. You loved their big bald heads and their pudgy, wobbling legs. You loved the way they giggled and smiled and dribbled food all over their fronts. You didn’t even mind the thought of pregnancy; carrying a pint-sized redneck in your belly for nine months wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen.

It was the world that frightened you most. The thought of a newborn child’s slim chances at surviving a place like this. The fear of that alone was enough to have you fighting that dreadful outcome, tracking your cycle like a hound and fighting Daryl off every month when you knew that day was coming. You’d been pretty successful thus far. But by the looks of the man across the kitchen beaming down at the baby, you weren’t sure how long that winning streak would last.

“Wanna hold her?”

“No.”

“Wanna do her hair?”

“She hasn’t got any.”

Daryl shot you a look of mock indignation and stroked Judith’s head.

“You kiddin’? Little Ass Kicker’s gotta have at least fifteen strands by now,” he retorted, tugging at the short blond tufts as if to prove a point.

Judith smiled a toothless grin up at her Uncle Daryl. You all but had to leave the room to stifle the sounds of your reproductive organs screaming, 'Give that man a baby! NOW!' You clenched your stomach and turned away to start preparing the pans.

Daryl perched Judith on his lap and starting puffing out his cheeks. The infant shrieked with laughter. You assembled the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt together on the counter and sought after a bowl.

“Dada, Dada!” Judith chanted. Trying in earnest to say ‘Daryl’ but ending up sounding like she was calling him dad. You dropped the mixing bowl on the countertop with a clatter.

“Daryl, kiddo, Dar-yl,” your boyfriend tried to teach her, enunciating his name a couple more times.

“Dada!” the little tyke howled again as she fisted his shirt in her fingers.

Milk and oil and— eggs. Where are the eggs?

You tore through the fridge and wanted to sob into the shelves with the sheer force of delirium coursing through your veins. Damn you, Charles Darwin, I am not in a place to be procreating right now.

You tried turning your mind to other things—cooking, crying, contemplating the course of human evolution—but when you turned back with the carton of eggs in hand, you almost sent the dozen of them crashing straight to the floor.

Daryl was pinching her chubby cheeks.

If you weren’t so violently inclined to breed a whole new gaggle of progeny with this man, you probably would’ve chucked an egg at his head.

You sighed as you dropped the last of your cooking supplies on the surface of the kitchen island. You planted your hands flat on the granite and stared shamelessly at the two of them. Daryl was feigning ignorance, tapping Judith’s tiny pink nose with the tip of his finger and watching her giggle. When he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, you spun around to kick the oven door shut and cut the appliance off, immediately.

“Alright, you win, you bastard,” you said in a huff.

Daryl looked up from his present occupation, eyeing you innocently.

“What do you mean, hon—”

You cut him short, raising a finger to halt his speech before starting toward the door.

“Shut up,” you muttered as you headed for the stairs, “Meet me up there in five.”

Daryl deposited Judith in her portable playard in a second’s time and went scrambling up those steps faster than he ever had before.

Silently, speedily, he thanked every one of his lucky stars and his best friend, Rick Grimes.

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fluff #fluff #daryl dixon imagine #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine

1K notes · View notes

poebot · 4 months

Note

CAN I REQUEST BABES ABBY WITH A READER THAT SEEMS SOFT AND LIKE A SWEETHEART BUT ACTUALLY ISNT? LIKE READER HAS A TRAMP STAMP AND TIDDY PIERCINGS BUT OF COURSE ABBY ONLY FINDS THAT OUT L8ER 😍😍

a/n: oh darling bless you for this one. i hope you don’t mind that this kinda went into a protective abby tangent (can you tell i have a thing for protective abby) but thank you for the request :) IK ITS KINDA LONG AND TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE I HAVE BRAINROT!! SORRY

abby absolutely adored you from the moment she first lay eyes on you at a random freshers week party for your university. she observed over the rim of her red solo cup as you awkwardly let your friend drag you in. you were standing there, stiff as a board, looking like you wanted the floor to swallow you up as she grabbed your hands and made them sway unrythmically to the music. she felt an amused smile tug on her lips, snorting as your face scrunched up in pure disgust whenever you sipped at your drink. your buddy had finally given up on forcing you to dance, running off to go mingle with other freshmen and leaving you to fend for yourself. she frowned.

you were the cutest little thing she’d ever seen. too good and pure for this dingy place, and certainly too good for the slimy frat bro she watched approach you, grabbing your hips from behind and leaning down to whisper in your ear. abby watched you visibly cringe away from his touch, and her feet were carrying her over there before her brain had even processed she was moving.

she loomed menacingly behind the guy for a moment, assessing the scene to make sure you weren’t actually into the freak before stepping in front of you both. you looked up to meet her gaze and felt your heart physically drop out of your ass. she was the sexiest woman you think you’d ever seen. tall, muscular, blonde hair cascading down her broad shoulders, passionate blue eyes piercing into the creep behind you. she looked straight out of your fantasies and she was smiling warmly at you like you were old friends, pulling you by the hand out of his grasp and into her huge arms like a guardian angel. this must be some type of fever dream. you were drunk or high, you eventually convinced yourself despite only having two sips of the murky liquid in your cup. she leaned down to murmur a soft “just go with it.” in your ear before turning to the guy, raising an eyebrow. he backed off with a scoff, which you internally thought was a great decision considering she was probably twice his mass and at least a couple inches taller.

from that day onwards, you were attached at the hip. where abby went you went and vice versa. she joked that she was your guard dog, put on this campus to protect you from ‘creepy dudes with bad intentions’. you wondered if she’d feel as protective over you if she knew how many nights you’d spent with your fingers buried deep in your cunt, muffling moans into your pillow as you imagined her being the one plowing you senseless. you felt abby had this idea of you as a helpless, sexless girl in need of her constant protection. its not like you did much to disprove it, always speaking softly and feigning innocence. pretending you were unaffected by her bulging biceps whenever she’d lift weights in your presence, low grunts hissing out of her mouth.

until she caught you one day. caught your heavy lidded stare and rubbing thighs before you had the chance to school your expression. you were meant to be studying and abby was meant to be getting an early workout in. instead you’d spent the last thirty minutes staring, your notes forgotten and mind in the gutter. “whats with look?” she questioned, a small smile on her lips. she noticed your gaze ages ago and was playing up her sounds for a reaction, the cocky asshole. abby watched you stutter and fumble for a reply, getting out of her seat to move closer, caging you in against your desk just to gauge your reaction.

“what look?” you attempt, avoiding her eyes. she seemed unconvinced, her brow raised. “you’ve been staring like you want to bite a chunk out of me.” she chuckled, moving her face even closer to watch you squirm. your chest rose and fell rapidly and you suddenly forgot how to breathe like a person. that cocky grin was still on her face, and she grasped your jaw in her large hand to make you meet her gaze. you let out a gasp that sounded suspiciously close to a whimper. she saw the lust in your eyes, knew she was right on the money. this was happening.

“fuck-” was all abby could utter before you lost your composure and smashed your lips against hers, lacing your fingers through her long hair and moaning into her mouth. she growled deep in her chest, grabbing your hips and lifting you up onto the desk to slot herself between your thighs. her lips travelled hungrily down your neck, sucking and licking like she couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. her grip on your hips was almost bruising as she bucked into you slightly, like you’d disappear if she didn’t hold on tight enough. “nnh- abby-” you sighed, head lulling back to make room for her lips and legs wrapping around her waist. “wanted this for so long... wanted you to fuck me.” you gasp out, lost in the feeling of her touch. abby freezes for a moment, staring into your face with her pupils blown and cheeks flushed. “yeah, baby? how long?” she whispers, breathless.

“since i first met you… been fucking myself full to the thought of you.” your voice is small and shaky, overwhelmed at your fantasies finally coming to life. “jesus christ,” abby groans, squeezing her eyes shut like she can see it clearly in her mind. “fuck, that’s hot. my sweet innocent girls’ been thinking such dirty thoughts, huh? want me to make it all better?” you’re nodding, clawing at her arms, desperate for her to touch you. to ease the constant aching you’ve been feeling since meeting her.

she doesn’t hesitate a moment longer, ripping your shirt off of you and unclasping your bra. your tits spill out in front of her and her jaw hangs at the little silver jewellery threaded through your nipples. abby thinks she might cum right now, just from the sight of them. she wonders how she hasn’t noticed this before, considering how long she’s spent staring at your tits when your head’s turned.

abby moans out a ‘holy shit’, latching onto one with her mouth and massaging the other in her hand. you push her deeper into your chest with a sigh, staring shamelessly at her pretty lips going to work. you knew she’d like them. shes sucking and lapping you up like she can’t get enough, toying with the jewellery with her tongue and pulling gently with her teeth before licking fat stripes over the flesh. you’re shaking from the sensitivity, letting out pathetic ‘uh’s, words completely failing you. it’s beyond your imagination, but you feel a knot forming tightly in your stomach just from the stimulation to your tits.

“abs, fuck, abby i think m’gonna-” her mind is elsewhere, completely absorbed by the supple feeling of your breasts in her hands and the cute noises your making. she’s breathing harshly out of her nose and sucking harder, wanting you to moan louder, pull her hair rougher. she wanted to wreck you and your innocent girl persona for good. “mmf- that’s it, baby. knew you were a little slut,” she didn’t. “god you sound so pretty.” your moans are getting more and more high pitched and your hips are stuttering, pushing helplessly into her pelvis as euphoria rushes over you at her filthy words. you cum, still partially clothed, just from the feeling of her mouth on you.

you dig your nails into her hair and pull her mouth off of you, panting heavily. abby seems to finally snap out of it and stares at you as you both catch your breath.

“did you just?”

“shut up. just- don’t say anything.”

#poe talks 🪲#requests #abby anderson x reader #the last of us #lesbian #abby smut #wlw #tlou2 #tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson #tlou college au #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader

822 notes · View notes

sorceresssundries · 5 days

Text

Heatwave

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: It is the final social event of the summer season, and Tav has dressed poorly for a festival in the midst of a heatwave. One-shot.

Warnings: Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Sweat-licking, Smut.

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Another smutty Austen inspired work with a bit of fluff! This time in a universe outside of BG3. There definitely seems to be a weather theme in these one-shots. Maybe they'll fuck in the snow next, who knows?

The Festival of Shieldmeet had dominated conversations throughout the city all summer long. With the event occurring only once every four years, the anticipation had reached a fever pitch, rendering even the sweltering heatwave a minor inconvenience. The idea of postponing or, heaven forbid, cancelling such a revered social event due to something as minor as the weather was simply inconceivable.

The festival was being held in the sprawling grounds belonging to some Lord or Lady who had earned the privilege of hosting. In the heart of a large, manicured, bloom-laden garden stood a bandstand where bards were tuning their instruments, ready to serenade the guests with summer melodies. Alongside it stretched a long table adorned with dishes piled high with the richest Waterdhavian delicacies. Attendants in crisp uniforms weaved through the crowds, bearing trays laden with sparkling drinks in tall glasses, as well as refreshing juices and icy water. There also seemed to be tables scattered around with trays stacked with rolled up flannels sitting in ice, patiently waiting to be scooped up and dabbed at the forehead of the sweltering guests - These seemed to be a welcome addition, as there was scarcely any shade to be found anywhere.

Tav found herself in a state of utter misery. Seeking solace from the stifling crowds, she had retreated to the embrace of the shade beneath an oak tree bordering the garden, where she fervently fanned herself out of sight. She had naively and desperately assumed that the shade would cool her, but despite the protection from the sun’s direct attention the air was still just as cloying, and squeezed her with suffocating stillness. What she wouldn’t give for even the whisper of a breeze. The sad little paper fan she had acquired was doing very little work for her, just pushing the warmth forwards and heating her even further in her efforts to keep it moving.

For some inexplicable reason she couldn't recall, she had chosen to don her finest silk gown over a whalebone corset. It hugged her curves with an unforgiving grip, accentuating her form and lifting her breasts. With a smile as wide as her hips, she had admired herself in the mirror before departing. However, that smile faded the moment she stepped out of her cooled carriage and into the searing heat of the midday sun. She had immediately noticed the guests dressed in garments far more suited to the occasion than her own.

What a foolish notion this had been, she mused, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. She had no idea what had driven this madness. Well.. she thought as she peeked out from behind the tree and across at the crowd gathered in the garden, maybe she had a slight idea.

Gale Dekarios was an exceptionally handsome man who exuded infuriating arrogance, boundless pride, and endless charm. From their first encounter at the spring ball, he had claimed her attention at every subsequent event. She had ‘accidentally’ stepped on his foot during one of their early dances, after he had explained to her his proficiency with magic and his gallant willingness to at least try and teach her some of his simpler spells. He had laughed at her annoyance, apologised profusely, and kissed her hand at the end of the evening. She had been aflame ever since.

Throughout the season, they had fallen into a familiar routine. Their ritual involved stealing glances at one another, offering subtle gestures of acknowledgment, and then both making a concerted effort not to meet eyes again. Yet, inevitably, one of them would find themselves drawn towards the other. It was a dance of restraint, leaving Tav exhilarated each time, despite the exhausting choreography. She was never really sure who was leading the dance, but at this moment, sweating and flustered and hiding behind a tree, Tav decided it probably wasn’t her.

As each evening would draw to a close, he would always bid her goodnight with a kiss upon her hand, each time lingering longer than the last, and tell her how much he was looking forward to their next meeting. Upon returning home, Tav would often find herself lost in fantasies, imagining his hand tangled in her hair, his lips tracing the curves of her body. More often than not, these night-time reveries ended with her own desperate touch and his name cried out from her lips.

In the privacy of sweet slumber, she would dream of their next encounter, eagerly anticipating another opportunity to engage in their dance and hoping to step on his feet once more.

Maybe she had more magic in her than she realised, as her very thoughts appeared to have summoned him to her hiding place.

“Ah, Miss Taventon. I thought I spotted you retreating all the way out here.” He greeted her with his customary charm. As always, he was a vision to behold, with his dark, mischievously glinting eyes and sweeping brown locks pulled back from his face. Clad in simple yet impeccably tailored attire—a snug waistcoat over a pristine white shirt, adorned with a luxurious silken cravat, and well-fitted breeches. Frustratingly, he looked completely unaffected by the blistering warmth, and Tav thought she must look like a sweating, breathless fool in comparison. She only had time to be embarrassed momentarily, before she realised the precarious nature of their situation. For the first time, they were properly alone together and Tav blushed at the thought of being found with him behind a tree so far away from the party. There would be a scandal.

“Mr. Dekarios, a pleasure.” She looked around to try and see if anyone would catch them in their compromising seclusion, but it appeared they were safe for now. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me a little affected by the heat. I was just after a moment of respite.” She began to fan herself more fervently.

“Understandable, I'm sure. For one not versed in magic.” His smugness had returned, and Tav always treated it as a welcome challenge.

“Well, not all of us are as exceptional as you” She batted her eyelashes at him sweetly and took in his cool, handsome appearance. “Let me guess, enchanted clothing?” He bowed his head in confirmation of her appraisal, still looking smug and annoyingly unflustered by the heat. “A shame it could not chill your ego, but alas, I suppose your talent has to end somewhere.”

His smile in return was genuine. He very much enjoyed her banter. Almost as much as he enjoyed seeing her sweating under the shade of the giant oak tree.

He raised a hand in mock defeat. “Peace, my lady. I came bearing a gift. In an effort to cool your skin, and perhaps even your temper.” She really was ravishing in this state, he thought, overheated and fiery. He wondered whether she was aware of his true intentions in seeking her out. It was the final event of the summer season, and as such, their elaborate game would have to come to an end.

As she reached out to accept the cool towel he offered, a surge of boldness seized him. With a swift motion, he closed the distance between them until he was almost pressed against her, and with a tender touch, he placed the cold flannel against the side of her neck. He had hoped it would elicit a reaction from her, at the very least a small gasp of surprise, but she remained silent. She just watched him as the droplets from the towel trailed slow down her neck, caressing her collarbone in the way his fingers ached to, and gathering to rest glistening on the shelf of her breasts which had been pushed up by her corset.

He had thoughts of ripping it off her. The silk of her dress would tear like tissue in his practised hands, and he would cast the tatters of it into the wind and spend an entire afternoon finding where the pools of her sweat gathered. He ached to know what undergarments she was wearing, what colour, how the material would taste if he pressed his tongue against. It. He hoped it was white cotton, something the scent and taste of her would cling to - so damp with sweat and desire that he would be able to see her dark curls through the material.

He could feel the cooling enchantment wrapped round him waning as his concentration and resolve were tested. Damn heat. Damn woman. She knew exactly what she was doing. Who wears a silk-wrapped corset in a heatwave? Each bead of sweat and whisper of her heated musk was a siren’s call, and he was determined to drown himself in the ocean of her.

“I am no expert in fashion, Miss Taventon, but I must question the decision to wear a silk gown in such conditions. Surely linen, or cotton would have been preferable? Or maybe one enjoys the sensations brought on by basking in such stifling heat?” His tone was more frustrated than he meant it to be.

“I thought it would be light and cooling, Saer. Not all of us are gifted with the ability to enchant our clothing.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and wondered if every item he was wearing was enchanted.. She quickly snapped out of her musings “An unfortunate error on my part, I hadn’t taken into account the lack of breeze, or the…”

“Stickiness?” He said, focusing intently on dabbing her neck and chest with the flannel and not meeting her eyes.

“The humidity. Yes.”

He took a break from his attentions and discarded the flannel, to take a leisurely sip of his drink. The droplets of condensation cascaded down the glass like tiny beads of sweat. Tav couldn't help but watch, a pang of envy stirring within her as she observed the icy water slip downwards and through his fingers. There was too much electric heat here, strung out in the very air, no amount of cool water would save her. She needed to be swathed by him, to smother the flames until they burnt out into ash. Even then, she was certain there would be embers enough to fan back to roaring flame at just one breathy word from him. She was doomed kindling.

The soft clink of ice against glass filled the air as he drank, his gaze never wavering from hers. With intent, he parted his lips slightly, allowing a single ice cube to slide into his mouth. She couldn't tear her eyes away as he savoured it, rolling it around his mouth with his tongue.

“Most refreshing.” He breathed, after a long, heavy swallow, “Could I tempt you with a sip?”

“I..Maybe.. This heat has caused quite a desperate thirst. Although I notice you have only brought one glass. How impolite of you” She dropped her fan to the ground in vexation, stupid thing was not doing anything to help. There was no saving her now.

He smirked and bowed his head slightly. “Not to worry, dear lady.” His eyes darkened and his voice became a heated command. “Open your mouth for me”

At first there was shock, but then without question she did as she was told, like a girl entranced. With a deft movement of his fingers, he plucked another ice cube from his glass and placed it delicately on her waiting tongue.

Tav saw a chance and took it.

Before he could withdraw his hand, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and the surprise in his eyes lit her like a firework. She burned for these moments, for any slip in his resolve, any evidence behind the refinery and politeness that there were things she could do that would shock him. If there was a crack in his armour, she would slip in like water and drown him in sin.

Locking eyes with him, she held his gaze steady as she took control. With a boldness she hadn't known she possessed, she leaned forward and enveloped his fingers in her mouth, sucking gently and letting the ice cube melt against her tongue in a sweet rush of cold. It was a calculated move, a daring play, and as she released his hand, a flicker of satisfaction fluttered in her eyes. The game was afoot, and she was changing the rules.

She let go of his fingers, and smiled innocently. “How right you are as always, Mr.Dekarios. Most refreshing.” She lilted, still sucking on the remnants of the ice in her mouth.

He had suddenly lost his footing. The blood that was keeping him focused and leading their little game had suddenly re-routed elsewhere, and he was struggling to compose thoughts. He had no words, so actions would have to do.

He drew closer to her, the space between them shrinking, and he reached out his hand to trace a delicate path from the warmth of her flushed cheek, along the elegant curve of her jaw, down to the hollow of her throat. There, just above the gentle rise and fall of her bosom, he noticed a glistening bead of sweat, which he captured with his fingertip. Bringing it to his lips, he savoured it, and made a noise of growling satisfaction. Her breath hitched beautifully in response.

"It appears you're still uncomfortably warm. I'd hardly be a gentleman if I allowed you to suffer like this." With a languid sip of his drink, he popped another ice cube into his mouth.

“You are no…”

He aimed to catch off guard before she could finish. He closed what little gap was left between them and all playfulness burned away in the heat, leaving nothing but desperation. Fuck games, fuck dancing around each other, and fuck that ridiculous silk dress she was wearing. She had won their game, and her prize would be for him to take her the way he had been wanting to for the entire summer.

His glass fell to the ground with no thought at all, and he grabbed at her waist. Pushing her back against the tree and pinning her there with a leg between her thighs. He finally earned a gasp of surprise from her, as he pushed his lips against her throat, and pressed the ice cube against her pulsing skin with his tongue.

The noise she made was tantalisingly balanced between relief and desire, and he kept the ice firmly against her as he moved it further down her neck, mimicking the trail of sweat his finger had traced earlier. He delighted in the way her skin prickled as the ice caressed her. She was divine. He wanted to tease her until she lost all of her brazen stares and cutting banter, and all that was left was a puddle of a woman. He wanted to undo her the way he would her clothes, and watch her fall apart under his hands, his tongue, the push of his hips…

"Someone... Will..." Her voice came out in gasping pleas as he continued caressing her with the ice. "Find us..." He needed to remove that damn corset soon; restricted breathing wasn't conducive to the way he wanted to hear her cry out for him— completely unbound. A fleeting desire crossed his mind to restrain her in other ways, at other times. But for now, he simply needed to see how the heat had flushed her body, with as little material between them as possible.

“You think I would allow anyone else to see you like this? I am not a man who shares his treasure.” His cocky little grin made a slight reappearance as he pulled his lips away from her damp skin to meet her eyes and offer some cooling sincerity. “A spell has been cast, no one will see nor hear us. You are safe with me, my dream. Always.”

He lost himself to a moment of softness, and caressed her face with total adoration.

“I have craved the taste of you all summer. The sun itself could not burn me in the way you have. I am a scorch mark, I am the cindered ashes of all restraint. You are my sun. And no one else will gaze upon you the way I will.”

There was no response adequate to match the sudden delicacy of his words, leaving Tav momentarily speechless. In that fleeting moment of enraptured, adoring silence, Gale misunderstood her reaction, his beautiful face falling with concern, fearing he had unwittingly caused her distress.

“Tell me you do not desire me, that this soft heat inflaming you is not at least partly caused by your feelings for me. Tell me I have imagined your eyes searching for me, your playful need for my hands on you as we dance, and I will leave it at this. I will have spent a summer loving you, and it will have been the brightest and warmest of all my seasons.”

He loved her. The air suddenly felt lighter. He was the breeze she had been craving.

Her bright smile cracked through the initial shock of his confession, and relief swept over him like a tide. “I know you have a vivid imagination, Mr. Dekarios. But put it away, it is not needed here. I have attended each event only in the hope of being in your presence. It seems we both have had a summer well spent.” She kissed him then; sweetly, lovingly and he laughed enough for the crinkles between his eyes to appear.

It did not take long for the damned dress to be torn from the skin of her sweat-slicked body. For the corset to be ripped from its bindings. For the softness of her breasts to find their place against his tongue, nipples peaking as though the heat didn’t exist, his hot breath and cool tongue creating a heady mix of magic which made her skin sing.

Tomorrow, there would be rough marks on her back from the bark of the tree - but for now the slight pain only added to the overwhelming sensations which crawled their way over her body, her sweat mingling with his as he tore off his shirt and pressed himself against her. Caging her against the trunk. His skin was cool against hers, and steam danced between them as though melted steel was being forged by cool water. He was hard, she could feel it.

His tongue flattened at her skin of her neck and her breasts, and licked away the lust-induced sweat his affection had caused. The fresh, salty taste may as way have been laced with liquor for the effect it was having on him. She tasted of sweet wine with the faint hint of salt. It was subtle, but he needed something richer. His attention moved downwards, and It was not long till he reached that most sacred place, where he had been aching to lose himself in scent and taste. He took his time and inhaled her. Using his nose to caress her sweet spot as he relished in the full-bodied flavour of her.

As soon as his mouth began lavishing her, she realised he had somehow extended the cooling enchantment to his tongue. Her head was thrown back against the tree in ecstasy, the press of his mouth against her quickly becoming too much for her to handle. There was a brief moment of self-consciousness, where she worried about how the heat of the day would affect her taste. But the worry was soon lost, the thought drowned out by the sound of his appreciation and the realisation that he was stroking himself as he devoured her.

He was dedicated in his endeavour, although no amount of skin-tingling magic would be able to balm the fire coursing through her veins. She thought she would never cool, that she would be a woman on fire for the rest of her love-fuelled days. The sensation was mesmeric, and she could not remember a sweeter sensation than this man on his knees in front of her, face buried between her legs and using his tongue to caress her with such enthusiasm she felt as though she would fall apart. And fall apart she did. It was euphoric, and her hands gripped his hair fiercely as she crashed over rocks in reckless pleasure.

When he came back up to meet her he was breathless and lust-drunk, giddy as a school-boy and stoked as a bonfire. “There has never been a sweeter taste than you, my love.” He kissed her then, languidly, passionately - intent on sharing the riches of his exploration. Tav could taste herself in his kiss. They may as well have been sharing wine between their lips.

“If you don’t fuck me soon, Gale, I swear I will combust.”

He laughed at this. At the desperation, at the slight annoyance in her voice, at the fact this was the first time she had ever said his given name and she had thrown it at him as a demand to push her against the tree and bury himself inside her. What a woman.

He needed no further invitation; shedding the confines of his breeches, he pressed himself slowly into her warmth, and she made the most delicious groaning sound he had ever heard. This woman could drive him to madness, and thankfully he was aware that his earlier attentions ensured he need not be overly gentle. Knowing that his endurance would be short-lived, thanks to the fervour he had stoked within himself while bringing her to climax against his tongue, he abandoned all pretense of restraint. Together they were primal, the tension that had been building between them releasing in pure, carnal desire.

Though a gentleman might have exercised more self-control, such decorum was a luxury he couldn't afford in the presence of such irresistible temptation. Stripped of his clothes, he found himself as vulnerable to the unrelenting heat of the day as Tav, and soon, his focused, determined passion ignited a sheen of sweat upon his skin.

Tav’s payback could not have been any sweeter, as soon as she noticed the sweat trickling down his neck she took her chance and licked it from his bronzed, silken skin. His response was a delicious, low moan and his rhythm faltered into something more urgent, unbound. His grip tightening, one of his hands found its way to rest gently against her throat so he could feel the deep moans rumbling against his palm as he fucked her.

“I love you” She breathed. And that’s all it takes. He is suddenly hurtling over a precipice and into sweet, tight oblivion.

They both collapse onto the ground, sweaty, burnt-out, euphoric. And they fall into uninhibited laughter as they realise they can hear the band playing a jaunty tune in the distance, and the chatter of the ever-growing crowd is closer than they initially thought.

“You are still hidden from prying eyes, my dream.” Gale offered reassurance as he kissed her head. “And I will conjure up some suitable clothing for you, don’t worry.”

“That is most generous of you Saer, but please - by the Gods, no corset and no silk.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #gale dekarios #gale fanfic #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep

305 notes · View notes

greeneyed-thestral · 1 month

Text

I MET MICHAEL SHEEN. 16/03/24, National Theatre

So, if you've read my post about booking tickets to see Michael, you know all about my what-ifs. But the day was finally here.

I arrived at the National Theatre, followed all the Nye signs and here's the Olivier Theatre. I made my sister buy me the show's programme, hoping I would be able to get it signed.

I find my seat, I'm not in the centre but the stage still feels very close and you can see everything (amphitheatres are always the best).

Lights out. The audience is in religious silence. Can't believe I'm actually here, this is happening.

[skip this part in smaller font, if you want to avoid spoilers] In the words of Staged, he really loses himself in his roles. First of all, it's great to hear him speak in a Welsh accent.

But then we also see him turning back into a child, and you can totally believe he's young and innocent again. His stutter feels so real, his struggle and sadness too. The entire ensamble is great during the classroom scene, where they all help Nye against their bullying teacher (using those big canes to make him look scary really works). Hearing young Nye confessing that at times he thinks he 'shouldn't exist' because of who he is was a gut punch; Michael's delivery of that whole part is incredible, in that moment he really becomes a little boy that allows himself to feel vulnerable and says something dark to a friend. The way he jumps while saying "I can visualise and enunciate!" made me wanna jump too, he was ready to give up and then he found the solution through books, it's the joy and relief you feel when you realise that there is another way and your life is not over.

Now, I've watched musicals all my life and let me tell you that man is meant to be in one. He opened his mouth and all I could see was someone that had been waiting a long time for the occasion to show his talent, truly showstopping. He was so free and happy and confident, singing and dancing spectacularly. I couldn't stop smiling and giggling, we all clapped.

It's clear he means every word he says, and when he points and shouts his political arguments at the audience, those who feel called out must be shaking; I thought 'This is how people in Ancient Greece must have felt everytime they went to the theatre'. His Nye is inspiring, passionate, someone you'd want to follow, he stands up for what he believes in and lets nothing get in his way.

We get to watch him flirt, on all fours, waggling his 'tail'; everytime we think we've seen all he's capable of, he does something like this and surprises us.

But most of all, we see him being scared, first of having to do something, and then of not being able to do enough for all of us. At one point everyone has requests for Nye and I was expecting him to shout "Heal yourselves!" like Jesus in JCS, it totally conveyed what it must have been like to be in his role at the time, overwhelmed with daunting responsibilities.

In general, I appreciated the fact that it wasn't a linear biography, they chose life moments that have universal situations everyone can relate too, like they do in bio-musicals. I loved the staging. The colour palette is so recognisable; the curtains and the beds are used in many different ways so everything is explored at its full potential.

He is on stage basically all the time for more than two hours (sometimes twice a day, can you imagine?). Also barefoot and in his pajamas from start to finish, he looks like a teddy bear you just want to hug and protect.

He bows, looks at Nye's achievements, then leaves the stage.

Standing ovation, applause. I go back to the theatre lobby, I was supposed to wait for my sister, but she's late. Meanwhile, a fan asks me how to get to the Stage Door. I start too fear that I'm going to miss my chance if I keep waiting inside, so I decide to go on my own. After no more than 5 minutes, he's outside with us. Forget Nye, I am living my fever dream. He has just finished his second show of the day and yet he's smiling and listening to each and every one, signing and taking pictures. I know many have said this, but he really is an angel.

My sister arrives, and as soon as I'm sure she has the camera ready, I make my way to him. The two girls next to me who were speaking to him needed a pen and I lent them my sharpie, so I got my chance to look generous in front of him.

And suddently it was my turn. This is as much as my scrambled mind allows me to remember: I tell him I'm Francesca and I'm from Italy, he asks me how long I am going to stay, I confess that I had arrived that morning and just to see him, that I would be leaving already the following morning. I can't even focus while he's signing my programme, I just want to find the right words. I manage to say how I enjoyed seeing his passion, all these different sides of him and how watching him sing and dance has been the highlight of my evening. We take a picture together, I feel his hand on my shoulder and I realise my arm is around the waist of this person I love. I had to thank him again, telling him that he only deserves good things and that we are so lucky to have him. He wishes me a safe trip home, and I melt. I leave and I can't stop trembling. On my way back to the hotel I hold on tight to my signed programme and the sharpie that was in his hands just moments earlier. Only later I will realise that he's also written 'Ciao!', 'love' and 'X', without me asking for it or anything! Seeing him act live was a big gift already, but what followed outside was beyond my dreams. I can't look at the photos without blushing, the way he looks at me in the video and then also strokes my arm for a moment, I mean pinch me now.

The more I think about it, the more I can't believe it happened.

I want to thank everyone that under my first post pushed me and encouraged me to see the pros of doing this, I share this beautiful moment of my life with all of you. <3

#michael sheen #nye #national theatre #london #btw I was also wearing one of david's headbands

209 notes · View notes

fatescaprice · 2 months

Note

hi black swan fan #1, you don't know who this is. i really like your series of dreampeek calls and i was wondering if you could do one for sunday..... twiddles fingers. thank you so much for your time (if you do it or not), i love your writing & have a good dayyy!!!! ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

dreampeek calls: sunday

content warnings: none

note: hello anon who i definitely do not know . thank u v much :) i get very ill about tiny details so the dreampeek calls were like getting blasted in the face . here is ur biblically accurate boyfriend !!! i'm sorry if he's ooc . there isnt much content to reference yet . either way i hope u enjoy :)!!!

For all the reverence that’s granted to him, the dream SUNDAY always finds himself returning to is the one where he’s greeted with the sight of you asleep on the sofa, your head lolling back on the backrest, your hair splayed out around you — a more magnificent halo than anything he could ever hope to see.

You, blinking your bleary eyes open. Him, asking why you hadn’t yet gone to bed. He tugs the gloves off of his hands and leaves them on the coffee table, draws the back of his hand up to your forehead to check for a fever, but you only drag his hand down to nuzzle your cheek into his palm. “Dearest love,” he says, soft, gentle, shedding the ‘Sunday’ that belongs to the people of Penacony and becoming the ‘Sunday’ that belongs to you alone, “tell me what troubles you.”

“I just wanted to wait for you,” you reply, and his heartbeat, always so steady and composed, stutters for a fleeting moment.

Sunday dreams of revering you the way you deserve. Shall he prepare festivals in your honour? Dress you in the most opulent clothing the Family can provide? Or would you prefer he brush the hair out of your face, dance with you in the living room and guide you back to bed? He has no qualms, regardless. He was yours since you both came into this world, and he will be yours long after the last star dies out.

The dreamchasers of Penacony travel the universe in search of a sweet dream, but the only one he has is to hold you in his arms just a while longer.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #sunday x reader #✎... writing.#im on a roll today i think . i have gotten approximately 6 hours of sleep on average this week

214 notes · View notes

holdmytesseract · 4 months

Text

At Thor's and Jane's house; quite a few miles away from the Avengers compound...

Snow flakes dance outside of the window. Fairy lights are everywhere. The smell of Christmas wafts through the house.

Jane & Y/N: standing in the kitchen and preparing dinner, as the lines of Ed Sheeran's & Elton John's 'Merry Christmas' sound through the rooms

Thor: rummages through the closet in the bedroom upstairs; searching for the santa hat while he tries to squeeze his muscular legs inside the red trousers of his costume

Frigga: sits on the sofa beside Odin; holding her newest grandson Erik; eyes glittering with love

Eisa & Ella: trying to teach their grandfather how to play Paw Patrol Uno

Eisa, giggling: No, grandpa, you can't play the reverse card now.

Odin, completely confused: Why can I not?

Ella, giggling as well: Because you are not allowed to. Eisa played the skip card. points at it

Odin, shaking his head: By the Norns... What a devious game...

Ella & Eisa (and even Frigga): trying to suppress the giggles

Loki: is on his way to the kitchen, in order to show his wife how he dressed up Narfi

Loki: Come on, little man, let's show your mama how sweet you look.

Narfi: wears a Christmas elf costume with the cutest green hat on top of his tiny raven locks

Narfi: Narfi elf! giggles

Loki: chuckles Yes, buddy. You're a cute, little Christmas elf.

Loki: Darling, look at our little Frost Giant.

Y/N: eyes widen as she sees Narfi

Y/N, laughing: Oh my, babe! He looks soo cute!

Y/N: takes the little boy in her arms

Y/N: You look so cute, sweetie. smooches Narfi's cheek

Jane: can't help but laugh as well

Jane: He's the sweetest elf I've ever seen. boops her nephew's nose

Loki: just smiles; enjoys to spend the most wonderful time of the year with his whole family

divider by @jiyaxedits

a/n: Christmas greetings from the Baby Fever universe! 😉🎅🏻🎄🤍

PS. I couldn't resist to pick this song. Sorry. 👀🤭

Baby Fever Crew: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @eleniblue @loz-3 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @xthatpottahfanx @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @lokiforever @crimson25 @kimanne723 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @noideakitten @zombiesnips-blog @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @lokisgoodgirl @princess-ofthe-pages @coldnique @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokisrealpurpous @huntedmusicgardenn

#the baby fever au #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #Spotify

189 notes · View notes

greenorangevioletgrass · 5 months

Text

fever pitch (b.b.) - part one

previous part | series masterlist | next part

soundtrack: bewitched - laufeypairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!readersynopsis: you and Bradley find a secret garden and get acquainted... or maybe you already have?warnings: language, tension, fluff, angst but hypothetical?? idk, bradley is a dreamboat but what else is newnotes: the saga continues! i had a whole outline planned out, but then as i wrote it, it turned into a beast of its own and honestly, im just an employee here 🤷‍♀️ happy reading, and please let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, and asks! i would love love loveeee to hear it from you <3

✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

“Are we even allowed in here?”

You and Bradley turn a corner from the club area into a narrow hallway. There’s a door that leads outside, thanks to the little glass pane, you can see a little terrace situation outside. Bradley tries the doorknob… and it opens.

“I mean, there’s no sign that says we can’t…” Bradley shrugs, offering his hand to guide you in.

Like Alice in Wonderland, you step into a formal English garden in the heart of this complex of townhouses-turned-clubhouse. In the middle of the bricks and noises of the city, there are beds of roses and manicured hedges and ravines over a stone arch. It’s small, but very intentional even with the mosses growing on the edges of the fountain in the middle. A Dionysus statue sits atop the fountain, as if pouring wine instead of water. A nice touch to celebrate festivities.

“Wow. This is straight out of the old movies we talked about.” You marvel at your surroundings. “Like… The Sound of Music or something.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, exactly.”

Bradley starts humming My Favorite Things as you stroll your separate ways around the garden, marveling at the evergreen shrubs and colorful perennials. You eventually meet each other again right in front of the Dionysus statue. It feels like a sign from the universe for him, so he asks,

“May I have this dance?"

He can't be real, can he? "Like a 'dance' dance?"

"Absolutely." He says it with such conviction that it's easy to forget that the deafening, thumping electronic music from the club is completely shut out from your little pocket of a park. And the only semblance of music you can hear is the rustling of leaves, the trickling of water, and the fluttering memories of Bradley's velvety tone.

So you take his hand. He pulls you in and leads you into a slow dance. You were expecting to just sway, this is surreal enough as it is, but as you dance around the fountain, you slowly notice… the slow and simple rhythm, the unmistakable one-two-three, one-two-three count… This is a waltz step.

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I try my best.” In a swift movement, he twirls you away and reels you back in with a spin. He just prays to God or whoever is listening that you can’t actually feel his racing heart as he holds your back flush against his chest.

(You can’t. You’re too busy calming your own.)

“So… you and your friends celebrating the success at Wembley?”

His voice tickles the back of your neck, and this sudden closeness is too much for you to bear. You strategically turn around so you’re facing him again. “Oh, no. This is just my night off. I still have… three shows left here.”

“So how long will you be in town for?”

“Another week.”

“And after that…?”

“Paris.”

“Right…” he nods. “And home is in… Los Angeles?”

The question catches you off-guard for some reason. You know he’s probably just asking where you live, but something about the way he asks it makes it sound like he’s asking about… ‘home’ home. “Technically, yes.”

He makes a face. That’s a strange answer… “What do you mean, technically? I’m sure you must have at least one home base somewhere, right?”

“I do, yeah.” You smile sheepishly. “LA is my home base. But… it’s not like I have any emotional attachment to the city or anything.”

“Where’s that, then, if not LA?”

You give it a good thought… but you got nothing. “I don’t know. Ask me tomorrow.” Maybe it’s the romance of the setting—although his warm hazel eyes play a crucial role too— it makes you feel more inclined to be more honest than you usually do.

Bradley smiles. He’s so fascinated by you, but at the same time, he has an inkling that he might need to solve a few puzzles himself before you let him in. And he would gladly take his time to get there.

At the same time, slow-dancing to a hummed classic with this man away from a modern-day nightclub… It makes you wonder what kind of person he is. “And you? You’re an American in London. Where’s home for you?”

“Well, I think Virginia will always be home, but this place has really grown on me. I’ve been here for most of my adult life, and this city, the team, the people… I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“Virginia, huh?” you smirk—imagining him growing up near the water, a sunkissed teenage boy shooting the shit with his friends.

“Yes, ma’am. Born and raised.”

It’s only at this moment that Bradley is so much like this garden. Seemingly out of place, frozen in time while the world moves all too fast around it. But at the same time, perfectly placed, a calm in the eye of the storm. Just for this little pocket of a park.

Just for you.

“Are you normally this… Southern gentlemanly? With the suit and the sweet disposition and the waltz…”

“Honestly? Not really.” He admits bashfully. “But, I don’t know. I feel like I’m in another era with you right now.”

“Oh?”

Bradley doesn’t elaborate right away. Instead, he asks you, "Do you believe in past lives?"

Your face lights up, and he knows he just asked the right question. "I don’t know. Do you?”

"A little…" he nods, thoughtful. "Maybe not in a religious sense where you die, you get judged, and then come back as a... worm or whatever. But.. I kinda like the idea that... no one is ever really a stranger, you know? That our paths have crossed at some point."

"And you're saying we've met before?"

"Oh, yeah." Again with the conviction, this motherfucker.

“Really?” You step away from him, entering a more cerebral dance than the one that you just swayed into. Your fingers barely touch the surface of the water on the fountain, and ripples it over as you walk by. "Where do you suppose we have met before?"

He looks up at the sky, moving clouds and all, pondering his answer. "I was thinking the 40’s and 50's—you know, the Golden Age. But I think it's a little earlier than that, don't you think?"

"Like... the Roaring Twenties?"

“Yes!”

His enthusiasm amuses and fascinates you endlessly, and you never needed much to fuel your active imagination anyway. "I like that. I can see you as... a former pilot who fought in World War I. And then went on to become a poet. Or a pianist."

"I think I'm better off as a pianist.” He’s not very good with words—he’s much better plunking the ivories to get the party going.

"Fair, fair. A jazz… pianist, maybe?"

"Ooh, interesting." Bradley smiles, picturing it in his head. "And what would you be?”

"I don't know. You tell me." You lean back against the stone arch, looking at him expectantly. His answer will determine how he sees you and thus, how you feel about him. And you want him desperately to have a good answer.

"I wanna say... the starlet, or the mysterious singer—"

"Oh, come on. Even in my past life, I'm still a singer? Can't I be something else?” You groan in protest.

He chuckles, settling right across from you. "Okay, okay..." he looks at you deeply, pensively for a moment. "You're one of those socialites, who drank martinis and danced the Charleston until morning."

"Makes sense. I do love martini... and the Charleston."

"Right? You'd be one of those girls who rebelled against daddy dearest and partied all night, maybe broke a few hearts along the way."

"Including yours?"

“I don't know. You tell me."

Now it's your turn to pause and take a good look at him. You try to picture it; how boisterous and bright he must be, getting the party going by playing ragtime or samba. And you try to picture toying with his feelings; those irresistible hazel eyes watching you longingly across the room as you give some random man time of day for no other reason but to spark his jealousy...

"Nah. I think yours is the only one I didn't break. Not on purpose, at least,” you conclude definitively. The thought of leaning over the piano, sipping on cocktails while he croons out some love ditty—or sitting on his lap while he teaches you a Christmas tune at a holiday party seems way more appealing.

"What do you mean?”

"Well, you said so yourself about daddy dearest. He wanted me to marry one of his business associates, an heir to a shipping company or something.” You cheekily stroll past him, down the little path towards the fountain again.

Bradley smiles knowingly, just a step behind you. "Ah. And I'm just a lowly little pianist. What chance did we have, huh?"

You halt your steps and turn around to face him, a mischievous smirk on your face. "Would you have fought for me?"

To your surprise, he meets your gaze with a soft, unwavering look. "Without a doubt. I would have stood up to your father and told him that we were meant to be together, come hell or high water."

The phrase echoes in your head. Come hell or high water. It’s so loud, it sends you reeling and you had to sit down on the edge of the fountain. Suddenly the image of a screaming match flashes so clearly in your mind. Bradley's hand gripping years for dear life. The shallow sobs under the suffocating constrict of your dress. The tears blurring the sight of him leaving…

“But it didn't work, did it…”

He doesn't hear a question in your words —it sounds like a statement. And Bradley, ever the hopeless romantic, wants to say no. Of course it worked out, it had to. Maybe you ran away with him and lived a life of simple means. But it wouldn't have mattered, because it would've been full of music and dancing and love.

But the heartbreak in your eyes is so palpable, so...real. For a moment, it felt like the two of you actually lived it. You were just retracing the forgotten steps now.

"No.” He shakes his head softly, sitting next to you. "We tried. We fought, but... we lost.”

You know that, but it hurts to hear it anyway. Still, you can't help but continue the story. "I think I ended up marrying the businessman, do the right thing for my family. And let you go... play your music in Paris or something. Chase your dreams."

The life he imagined. Of simple means and abundant music... just no you. "I would have written so many songs about you..." he chuckles wistfully. As painful as it would've been to keep picking at old wounds, at least he would still have you in his life.

"I think I would've found your record eventually,” You pipe up, partly in self-consolation. Sure, it might be a stretch, but you're way beyond caring. You needed a piece of him, too. "And I would put it on every time I missed you. Which was every night."

The night is so still, even the leaves seem to give you a moment of privacy. Your little fingers barely touch on the edge of the bench as you sit and grieve for a tragic love story that never happened.

Eventually, though, you take a deep breath and break the silence. "Fuck. I could write a whole album based on that."

Bradley laughs at your sudden interruption, glad that you snapped him out of his reverie and brought him back to reality. "Yeah? I would be happy to help you brainstorm."

You throw him a look. It feels weird to return to this point of acquaintance after feeling like you’ve gone through lifetimes with him. But you’re glad to start anew in this life. "Is that your roundabout way of saying you wanna keep seeing me?"

"Maybe. Is it working?"

"I don't know. I don’t do maybe’s. You should ask me for real.”

Holy fuck. He closes his eyes for a moment as his heart skips. You always seem to keep him on his toes, do you? "Alright. Can I see you again? Maybe take you out to dinner?"

"I would like that. Does tomorrow night work for you?"

"Perfect." he beams at you. Fuck playing it cool, he just won himself a date with you.

"We should swap numbers so we can figure out the details.” You reach into your purse to grab your phone. And then, something dawns on you, making you smirk devilishly at him, "You wanna put your number in, or would you rather give me that friendship bracelet I heard you made for me?"

Bradley stops dead in his tracks. Of course that public declaration was gonna bite him in the ass. He was doing so well, dancing and talking and making an actual connection with you...gosh, he must've looked stupid right now. "You knew about that?" He grimaces.

"Of course. I have eyes and ears everywhere, " you sling coyly, letting him punch his numbers into your phone with great embarrassment. "That, and Natasha might have sent me a post on Instagram.”

He sighs in defeat as he hands your phone back. "Goddamn it, Natasha…"

#oooo wonder how their real first date is gonna be like!#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #footballer!bradley #footballer!bradley x popstar!reader #top gun imagine #top gun au #ava writes #fever pitch

234 notes · View notes

riswippiesx · 3 months

Note

Toji with a reader who basically is Megumi friend. Like Megumi realized how much you two like each other so started to set stuff up for you two to get together. Reader is like a mother to Megumi (since I hc that his bio mom died when he was 2 or 3) and Toji is just loving reader for helping with Megumi. Headcanons please

Love & Care | Toji Fushiguro X Fem! Reader

Theme: Fluff

TW: a lil bit of cursing, ooc toji(????) maybe..as I didn't want to make him a brat here, age gap, reader is in her early 20s and Toji is in his 40s, not proof read[because I'm lazy asf]

Summary: headcanons for Toji X reader where reader is a friend of Megumi with motherly vibes.

Note: I am not really a Toji stan..okay?😭 I NEVER read any Toji fic in my life. Never. This was all so new for me. I tried to stick to the character as much as I could in the given scenario. Please don't mind :(💗

•You missed a very important class at your university and you needed a notes, immediately. Thus you ended up visiting your friend, Megumi, at his place, for the notes. Thus you met his dad, Toji Fushiguro. And what a sight! What a man! You couldn't look away.

•Toji just came back and you were leaving after taking your notes and BANG! You bumped into a person who felt like rock because of his well physic. You looked up, only to find your friends dad. You saw him on Megumi's phone but never in real life. "Kid, watch where you are going!", Toji groaned and looked down at you "also who are you?". "I-", you started to utter but Megumi finished it for you "My friend, dad, her name is Y/n." Toji did a little hum and gave you place to leave. You gave a nod with a little smile and left.

•You came back home, freshened up and decided to go through the notes but your mind refused to focus. All you could think how handsome that older man was. Your breath hitched and a weird feeling strated to grow in you.

•And all that grew harder with each passing day. You longed to see that man in person, once again. And your wish came true when your friend fell sick and took a few days off. You, being the responsible one, decided to help him with the notes.

•You went to your friends house. You finally met his dad again. You greeted him formally and he greeted you back. Your heart danced in joy. Then you went to Megumi's room and saw him laying down on his bed with an ice bag on top of his forehead. He looked really sick. You kept the notes on his desk and walked near him and sat on the chair beside the bed.

•Megumi was coughing and breathing heavily. The high fever was making him feel dizzy but he recognised you.

"You shouldn't... Have come..you will catch cold too..idiot..", he breathed out.

"Shh, don't talk much. Relax."

"Tsk"

Your friend was like that, refused to take help but you always loved to help him, you loved taking care of him.

You took the ice bag off as the ice was melted already. You saw a bowl of water and a piece of cloth in it on the bed side table. You kept the ice bag on the and damped the cloth and rinsed out the excess water. Then you put it on his forehead and ran your hand through his hairs, soothing him down. And it actually relaxed him. Your offered him some water when he coughed a lot. You were busy in taking care of your friend when Toji came and stood by the door, which you didn't notice. He observed how you took care of his son.

"You take care of him like a mother." His sudden voice made you startled and you looked back to find him standing there. He had a smile on his face and you felt like you could die then happily. "Oh..yeah..haha", an awkward and nervous laugh came out of your throat with a faint tint of red on your cheeks.

•And that whole thing made you and Toji interact more. Slowly a bond was forming between you two. Both of your scolded Megumi when he was going extra harsh on himself for studies and didn't take care of him. Megumi often rolled eyes at the strict scolding but he could feel something in the air. He was smart. He was quick to catch the real scenario when he found you chatting with your dad and laughing. He also noticed how conscious you got around his dad or by the mention of his name. The faint blush, little chuckles, small glances— he noticed it all.

•You were in love with his dad —Megumi easily understood that. If it was anyone else other than you, maybe he would be against it but you were different. You were calm and collected, a soft person, who didn't date many guys. Megumi trusted you, he knew you. Your happiness was also important to him. So he accepted it in his mind. He also noticed how his dad was finally interacting with a woman after his mom died. Megumi's life's biggest tragedy was that he lost his mother when he was barely two years old. He never felt the motherly care while growing up until he met you. His dad supported him a lot but you, you took care of his mood, well being and feelings. Though you were his friend but he found the comfort of a mother in your embrace. So he was all over pleased and wanted your relation to form properly with his dad.

•For you, it felt so wrong yet so right. You didn't plan to fall for your friends dad but some matters would always stay out of human control. So you had finally accepted it but didn't want to make a move from your side. On the other hand, Toji liked spending time with you. You were calm but not boring. He liked that. Also, he adored how you mothered his son. It made him chuckle with happiness. But the muted feelings in his heart was forcibly put down by himself. He refused to acknowledge any such weird feelings about his son's friend. So he just stayed in his limit as well. Megumi was honestly tired of seeing the lack of confronting ability. He wanted any of you two make a move. The way you both appreciated each other while talking with Megumi, he was surely confused why weren't you two making any move yet.

•The frustration was major. Megumi couldn't take it anymore decided to make move on you two's behalf. One day he called you to come over to his place while he went to Itadori's place, who was a mutual friend of you and Megumi. You agreed without knowing and came over to his place with some cookies you made, only to find his dad alone. You were confused, so was Toji. Both of you tried to contact megumi but he didn't pick up any call. You wanted to leave but Toji stopped you.

"You can stay untill he comes back, you know. I got no issues", he said with a chuckle. You hesitated but accepted soon. You sat with Toji and ate a few of the cookies you made.

"You made this?"

"Yeah.."

"Tastes good"

"Thank you, Fushiguro san"

"Hey you know, that fushiguro and all...so fucking formal. Call me Toji"

"But you're way older than me"

"Do I look like I care?", he laughed.

"Okay..Toji ...san?"

"Sounds better", both of you chuckled and chatted. It wad getting late but Megumi wasn't home till then. Toji suggested you to go back and he would talk to his son for his carelessness. You nodded and headed back. Though you didn't meet your friend that day, you felt somewhat happy. Spending all those time with Toji made you giggle in your mind.

•Such shits continued, as Megumi kept on setting you two up. Someday he sent his dad at your place to give you some important assignment files, giving the excuse of being "busy", someday he asked for your help to come over and stay a few hours at his place as he needed to go to the library, stating that his dad wasn't home. You agreed again and went to his place. He left, you were alone, using your phone, when the door knob moved. You thought he came back but it was Toji. Both of you were surprised at first but that day ended with chats and laughs as well. But Megumi heard a few words from his dad but his weird behavior later, and from you as well. But he didn't mind.

• Things continued. You two might confronted Megumi but all those 'accidental meet ups' were too good for both of you. So you two didn't care much and the bond grew stronger and you two came closer than before. Megumi was happy by the progress so far.

•One day, you hanged out with Megumi and his dad, as you were free that day(also his dad was there). Megumi excused himself for using the washroom near the park and you two waited for him. Then Megumi messaged you that he had a parcel coming by that day, so he had to go back to recive it but he would join you two soon after. You sighed and told Toji about that.

"My son is getting sneaky", he sighed and you two sat on the bench.

"Sure he is.", you chuckled and Toji looked at you.

"I would be concerned about it if he didn't have a friend like you. You take care of him like a mother.", he gave you a sounded laugh, making you blush a little. "Thanks a lot for being such a great friend to my son. I trust you enough that I know he won't do anything wrong as long as you stay with him.", he smiled.

"My pleasure. He is a good guy. He just..doesn't know how to talk about his needs. I somehow manage to read his face. And thus I try my best to take care of him. After all, he is my most important friend."

"You like my son?"

"As a friend, yes"

"Of course", he laughed "do you like his dad?"

His one question made you nervous. Did he find out? No way. You didn't know what to reply. Panic was clear on your face. Toji quickly fixed his words.

"I mean..do you think I am a good dad? Am I good enough?" You sighed and smiled in relaxation.

"Of course. You're doing great as a dad. Maybe you don't know but he once said that he feels grateful to have you around. He also acknowledge your hard work as a single father. You're more than just good."

"Really? Wow", he smiled to himself, feeling good about himself after so many days, or years.

•Things didn't actually go to that level where you could admit your feelings for Toji but you loved him, loved being around him. Megumi's set ups made you two more than just friends. Both of you knew that very well but didn't have the courage to tell each other.

•Megumi stopped setting you two up after a few months as he was tired. Also he wanted you two long for each other.

After a few weeks, when you were longing for Toji, trying hard to find a reason to meet up, you asked Megumi if you two should hang out and proposed to bring his dad too, Megumi decided to confront you.

"Y/n"

"Yes?"

"Do you like my dad?"

Your lips were sealed, not a single sound came out of your throat. How the hell did Megumi find out and how was he so exact? Was your facial expressions were so certain and prominent? Yoy had to lie. You coughed and gave him a dry laugh.

"Are you crazy Gumi? That's your dad..how can i-"

"Stop lying. You think I am a kid?"

"No but-"

"Why do you think all those accidental meet ups happen so frequently? Because I tried to set you two up"

"Wha-"

"But again you two couldn't even say a word about your feelings. If you like each other why don't you confess?"

"I don't like your da-"

"You do."

You stayed quiet, feeling exposed. Then you gradually asked:

"Are you..mad at me for falling for ...your dad? I'm so sorry please.."

"Are you really that dumb Y/n? I told you I set you two up. You think I would do all that if I was mad?"

"..."

"You are going to confess. I'll go out today with my dad. We will hang out, i'll bring my dad. I'll excuse myself. You will talk your heart out today!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Why not?"

"Your dad won't like me back. The hell are you saying?!"

"He does. I am telling you."

"Wait really?"

"Confess and see for yourself."

"But-"

"No buts!"

"Ugh-"

"You will confess or i'll set him up with another woman"

"What the hell bro?"

"I said what I said"

"Goddamn! Fine!"

"Good"

•You came back home. Your face was flushed. You were feeling nervous and excited at the same time. Megumi accepted you, even said his dad liked you back. You definitely needed to make a move the. Moreover, the way your buddy threatened you. You had to. You would definitely confess to Toji that evening! Yes! You could do it!!

Let's hope for the best, then :D

Part two with better details?👀

Thank you for reading. A big thanks to @//aliorailrow for requesting this<3 I hope it was okay as per your request?! Tried my best..hehe

Requests are open <3

♡Reblogs and comments are always appreciated♡

153 notes · View notes