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sarahsmi13s · 1 year

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Rodeo

(not my gif)

pairing: robert ‘bob’ floyd x pilot!reader (call sign: rodeo)

characters: bob floyd, reader, dagger squad, penny benjamin, pete mitchell, some dick named john and his friends (who aren’t necessarily dicks)

warnings: fluffy bob, bob in a cowboy hat, fighting, drinking (of age), suggestive, i believe that’s it

word count: ~2.2k

a/n: this came in second place, but i love it just the same. and i’m very close to writing a part 2 for this ;)

quick summary: when your relationship with bob is reveal to the squad, hangman can’t help but wait for bob to stake his claim on you.

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

You sat in the Hard Deck, nursing your beer and playing pool with Phoenix when the bell chimed.

You glanced up and saw the Texan himself walk in, hat on and everything.

“Hangman, what the hell are you wearing?” Phoenix asked, leaning on her cue. You looked him up and down, chuckling when you heard his response, “I wear this all the time.” His accent had gotten thicker after visiting his family.

You had all just visited your families for Christmas. It was only two weeks but it had given you all plenty of time to slip back into your old accents.

“Nice buckle, Bagman,” Rooster commented, obviously teasing the fact that the buckle looked like it weighed down the front of his pants.

Jake puffed out his chest, a smile gracing his features, “Thank ya, Chicken. Thought I’d bring it back with me, I ain’t worn one in a while.” Rooster sipped his beer, “You get it at Bass Pro or something?” Jake’s face fell and you couldn’t help but laugh. “You did not jus’ ask me that.”

You glanced at it, looking at the details.

“You rode?” Hangman turned to you, his smile returning, “Yeah, best there was.” You hummed, sipping your beer before sitting it down to line up your shot, “What made you quit?” “I wanted somethin’ different for myself. My older brother rode, my dad rode. I did it for the adrenaline, so I thought maybe I could get my high while doin’ somethin’ that had more meaning.”

Before you could retort, Jake had looked at Bob.

“Since when do you wear hats?” You smiled glancing back at the WSO, who was wearing a reddish-brown felt cowboy hat, before looking back and catching the way his pilot looked at you. “Well, Bagman, you ain’t the only one that grabbed something from home.” Jake nodded in mutual respect before looking back at you.

He took a quick glance down at your belt line, seeing the lights reflect off your own buckle.

“You rode too?” You nodded, taking the final shot of the game, “8-ball far left corner pocket.” You gesture with the cue before taking the winning shot. “That’s game Phee.” Nat rolled her eyes and slipped you a 20.

“So, what was your event?” “Barrel racin’.” “Were you good?” “Best there was,” you winked and sat next to Bob. “How’d you think I gained the name Rodeo?”

Hangman donned his signature smirk, “I could think of a lot of things.” You shoved him, “You’re gross.” “Come on, Ro. That was funny.” Bob shook his head and draped his arm behind you on the booth.

“What made you quit?” Hangman asked as he slipped into the seat across from you. You sighed, “I raced for nearly my whole life. My brother Bryan did too. I could say I got out for the same reason you did, cause it wouldn’t be a lie. But I was always just Bryan's kid sister, or Darrel L/N’s daughter. I made somewhat of a name for myself, but by the time people saw me as me-”

You shrugged, sighing, “I didn’t enjoy it anymore. It became more about the trophies than the experience. So I decided to be the best at somethin’ I was proud of. That could give me a family, like the rodeo used to.”

Jake nodded in understanding, he patted your shoulder before moving on to bother Rooster and Coyote.

Bob sighed and let his arm fall around you and pulled you close to his side. “You didn’t tell me that.” You looked up at him, “Sure I did. Did I not?” He shook his head, “No, and you know I listen to every word you have to say.” You scrunch your nose, “I swear I told you.” He shook his head, “Nope.” You pouted, “Oh, well now you know.” He nodded, “That I do.”

You both smiled and he pressed a kiss to your lips. “Bob-” “I know Y/N, I just-” You cut him off by grabbing his shirt and kissing him again. “I’m tired of hiding it too.”

********

Meanwhile, everyone was watching the two of you.

“I can’t hear a word they’re sayin’,” Hangman said, straining a little to hear you both better. “Dude, when is that gonna go away?” Phoenix asked, in reference to his accent.

“Oh, it’s always there, trust me. It’s normally strong when he's drunk or really pissed,” Coyote confirmed, laughing a little.

“Plus, you never complain about Rodeo’s accent,” Jake commented. “Yeah, but it’s cute on her and gets Bob all flustered.” The group hummed in agreement before turning back to the (no-longer) secret couple in the booth.

They watched Bob kiss you, say a few words before being pulled in again.

“Damn, when will it be my turn?” Omaha asked, shaking his head.

“Bob is so in love with her it isn’t even funny,” Phoenix revealed. “He always talks about her, and they went to see each other's families over our break.” “Really?” Yale asked, crossing his arms.

Phoenix nodded, “He’s been in love with her since the mission in May last year. And I’m sure it’s the same case with her.” Halo nodded, “Yeah, I had to listen to her talk about him all the time. And then Bob would talk to me if you were anywhere within earshot of Y/N. He’s fallen hard, they both have.”

Jake shook his head, his eyes trained on the couple as they talked, “We don’t know how in love he is with her though.”

Everyone just scoffed, “Do you not see how they are looking at each other right now?” Fanboy asked, looking at his fellow WSO and his second best friend. “It’s painfully obvious.”

Jake scoffed, “Cowboys have a special way of tellin’ each other a girl is off limits, other than a ring and a few hickies.” “Which is?” Harvard asked, stepping closer, intrigued.

Hangman glanced around and saw a few guys looking at you, “Okay, when Bob gets up and leaves her alone, one of these guys will try to flirt and Bob is probably gonna see. And being the silent and passive aggressive type-”

“Guys, Bob’s moving,” Payback caught their attention. Everyone shut their mouth and watched how you sat there, a grin on your face as you picked at the label.

Jake narrowed his eyes trying to pick out which guy was gonna make his move.

Coyote hit his arm, “4 o’clock.” Hangman turned his head, seeing a guy high fiving his friends before adjusting his posture and making his way to you.

You didn’t look up when someone sat across from you.

“You weren’t gone very long.” “Well I just got here,” the guy chuckled, and that’s when you looked up.

You glanced around for Bob, but didn’t see him.

“I’m John.” “Rodeo,” you said, leaning back in your seat. “Rodeo?” You laughed, “It’s my call sign. I fly for the Navy.” John tilted his head, “You’re not from around here are you? You sound funny.”

The pilots, who had discreetly moved closer, dropped their jaws. “He did not just say that,” Rooster hushed out. “Oh he totally just did,” Phoenix smirked, waiting for you to lay into the guy.

You just laughed, “You have no idea how to actually talk to a woman do you?” If that hurt John’s feelings, he didn’t let it show, “Oh, I can show just how I talk to women.” He winked, “If you wanna take a ride?” You scoffed, sipping your drink with an arched brow, “Sorry, pal. I’m not interested.” He scoffed, fidgeting in his seat.

The group knew he was getting frustrated and there was no sign of Bob coming back, so they had to prepare to jump in themselves. Especially Hangman.

“Look, John, while I appreciate the offer, I’m already scheduled for a ride.”

Omaha and Yale choked on their drinks. Rooster and Phoenix smirked proudly, both for you and Bob. “I wasn’t expecting that,” Payback said, leaning on the pool table.

“With who? That cowboy that just left you here alone,” John glanced around. “And doesn’t seem to be coming back.” He looked back at you, “Come on. I could show you a better time.” He placed his hand over yours, gripping it.

You sighed, really just wanting him to leave you alone, “John, you are aware of the rules in the bar right?” He scoffed, and tightened his grip when you tried to pull away, “Yeah, don’t leave your phone on the bar. What the hell does that have to do anything?” You glanced up, smirking.

“You missed a few. There’s also a rule against disrespecting the Navy and women,” Bob looked at the tight grip on your open hand, and the tenseness of your shoulders. “And from what I can tell you’re breaking both. I can get Penny’s attention right now, then you have to buy everyone a drink, or you can leave.”

John stood up, being the same height as Bob he could look him in the eye. “And if I don’t.” Bob glanced at you and you shook your head, not wanting him to get into a fight when it wasn’t necessary. “Well-” John punched Bob. “Bob!”

Hangman, Rooster and Coyote immediately jumped into action as you reared back.

“Rodeo,” Maverick had appeared, moving from his seat at the bar while Penny moved to the guy's friends telling them they needed to leave. Maverick had caught your elbow, “He’s not worth it. Help Bob, we’ll take care of him.”

You nodded and moved quickly to help your boyfriend, helping him up and grabbing his hat. “Are you okay?” He nodded, wincing slightly when you brushed your thumb over his busted lip. “That doesn’t look okay.”

He shook his head, adjusting his glasses, “I’m fine, Sweetheart. I’ve dealt with worse.”

As John’s friends dragged him out, calling him a ‘fucking dumbass’ and throwing out ‘I told you so’s, Penny came over with a small ziplock bag of ice.

“Thank you, Pen,” you took it and the damp napkin, pushing Bob to sit on the table. You gently wiped the blood from his lip, “Bobby, I’m sorry. I coulda-” “Stop, don’t do that.” You nodded, “Alright.” He smiled, but it was small so it didn’t irritate the cut.

The group watched. They saw how your tongue poked out in concentration, and Bob’s eyes looking up at you.

“So, Hangman, what’s the thing? How’s he gonna ‘claim his territory’?” Fanboy asked, crossing his arms. “It seems he already has, his eyes are basically hearts,” Payback commented. “That’s exactly why he’s gonna do it.” “Do what?” Rooster asked, propping himself on the table next to Hangman.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue, cowboy,” you said as you pressed the ice to his lip. He hummed, “Of course, Princess.”

He grabbed your wrist gently and moved the ice away from his lip.

“It’s gonna swell.” “I know a way to make it better,” he sat up straight to look at you and kissed you. You giggled and ran your free hand into the hair at the base of his neck.

When he pulled away, he tongued the cut on his lip, “I need a way to show everyone that you're mine. And I’m not allowed to give you visible hickies.” Both of you knew it was too early for marriage, not that it bothered either of you but you knew this wasn’t how Bob would propose.

You smiled against his lips, “I think they know now, Rob.” He adjusted his hat and chuckled. “Now, as much as I love kissing you, this will be sore without ice.” He nodded and let you place the ice back onto his lip.

“You know, I’ve got an idea.” You hummed, “What’s that?”

Jake watched with bated breath as Bob reached up to take his hat off.

Bob placed the felt hat on your head, “There, now everyone knows.” Your eyes brimmed with tears as you looked at him. “Bobby…” “I know we’ve only been together for 8 months but-” You pulled him in for a kiss.

When you pulled away, his glasses were askew and his cheeks were flushed. “I love you too.”

Bob smiled and looked over, seeing Jake smiling and dancing a little. “I think Hangman’s more excited about me giving you my hat than you are.”

You looked over and laughed, “Oh wow…”

“Do that!” The blonde pointed over at you two. “He gave her his hat, so?” Harvard said, sipping his drink. “In the south, that’s like a proposal. It’s like a promise ring,” Jake was still pointing excitedly at the couple. “Wait really?” Phoenix asked.

“Yeah, really,” you confirmed when you and Bob walked over.

Jake rubbed his neck, “Did you-” “See you dance like a teenager that just scored a touchdown? Sure did,” Bob said, ice pack muffling some of the words.

Phoenix smiled sadly at her backseater, “You okay?” He nodded, “I’ve been bucked off a horse and pull g’s everyday, a punch to the face is nothing.”

Hangman couldn’t stop smiling at the two of you.

“Hang? You okay?” He nodded, “Just happy for ya is all.” You smiled and hugged him, “Thanks man.”

When you pulled away, you reached back for Bob’s hand. He grabbed it and intertwined your fingers.

“Now, if y’all will excuse us. I think my scheduled ride has been bumped up. See y’all tomorrow.” You tipped your Bob’s hat and he waved as you pulled him out the door and to his Jeep.

********

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed!

thank you to those that voted for this story and i will be posting the last one tomorrow. i really appreciate all of you that voted!

if you want more polls for the ‘x reader’s that are just chilling in my docs let me know or if you have any requests for more fics please do so!!

love you guys <33

top gun tags <3: @milesdickpic @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @sebsxphia

thank you guys for being here! i love you *mwah*

#bob x pilot!reader #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #pilot!reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fic #bob floyd imagine #top gun imagine #top gun fic #top gun maverick #poll results #fic poll

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vivalas-vega · 1 year

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make the friendship bracelets / dagger squad x reader

this is for the top gun x swiftie girlies. I am in the midst of making as many friendship bracelets as I can fit on my arms for the eras tour and had this idea !!! it’s a little short but this is just a fun little drabble :) i hope you enjoy!!!

make the friendship bracelets / dagger squad x reader

add yourself to my taglist

word count: 600

warnings: none :)

You cleared your throat as you all sat around a booth, knowing this was your moment before everyone started to head home for the evening. “Going to make a speech?” Hangman asked, eyeing you as you looked at everyone expectantly waiting for their attention. You just smiled, reaching into your purse to grab the friendship bracelets you’d spend the past few days making and handing them to their respective owners without a word.

“What’s happening right now?” Rooster asked, looking down at the delicate beaded string in confusion.

“They’re friendship bracelets, Roo,” you said dryly, fighting a smile.

“Why?” he asked and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why is it a bracelet? I’m not in the mood to get existential tonight… I just thought, well… I’m not making a speech but you guys are my best friends and I’ve never really had best friends before so… friendship bracelets,” you said almost awkwardly as everyone just stared at you before their resolve cracked and they were all excitedly putting them on. Well, everyone except for Bob, he had put his on instantly and had been grinning down at it the whole time.

“What is this, summer camp?” Hangman asked, but you didn’t miss the slight glimmer in his eye as he looked it over.

“Did you pick these colors because of Star Wars?” Fanboy asked and he beamed when you nodded. “This is awesome!”

“I can’t believe you did this! This must have taken you hours,” Phoenix said. “This is so sweet.”

“This is my favorite thing ever, thank you so much.” Bob said, looking down at his like you’d presented him with the Holy Grail before reaching across the table to squeeze your hand.

“My daughter is going to be so jealous,” Payback said and you just smirked as you grabbed another from your purse and slid it across the table. “You made one for her?” he asked, looking at the much smaller bracelet in awe.

“Just securing my place as the favorite aunt,” you shrugged and Phoenix shot you a look.

“Hey, a bracelet changes nothing. I’m the favorite aunt,” she said and you laughed softly.

“Whatever you say, Phe,” you said as you slid to sit on the top of the bench and hooked your legs over to hop out, approaching the bar to meet Penny who gave you a bright smile.

“Another one?” she asked, but looked at you confused when you shook your head and instead presented her with a bracelet. “For me? Are you serious?” she asked, slipping it on.

“Of course, you’re a part of our team too.”

“Just for that, this is on me,” she said, placing a fresh beer in front of you and you turned to look at Maverick who’d cleared his throat.

“Can I help you?” you asked, trying to stifle your smirk.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing…” he replied, nonchalantly sipping his beer but eyeing yours and Penny’s wrists. “Just wondering where mine might be.”

“Sorry, old timer. There’s a height limit on friendship bracelets,” you said and Penny cackled from beside you. “Must be this tall to ride,” you held your hand up just above his height and you couldn’t help but laugh at his shocked expression as you pulled his from your pocket, donning his callsign just like everyone else’s.

“Oh, I didn’t… I was only joking,” he said but you could tell from the look in his eyes how much it meant to him.

“Of course you were, sir,” you exchanged a knowing look with Penny before heading back to your friends who were now all arguing over who had the best one and you wouldn’t have expected anything less.

#top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #rooster x reader #hangman x reader #phoenix x reader #fanboy x reader #bob x reader #payback x reader #coyote x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader #natasha trace x reader #bob floyd x reader #reuben fitch x reader #javy machado x reader

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lostinwildflowers · 1 year

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Iced Tea Kisses

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Rooster and you have known each other for a long time and he casually asks you on a date after being platonic friends for years.

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Fluff, very very very slight angst if you squint, just two goofballs in love

A/N: This is my first time writing for Rooster, so hopefully I did him good! I'd love to hear feedback because I've got a couple of other Rooster ideas in my drafts!!! Please enjoy!! -Birch<3

It was an unusually calm night outside of the Hard Deck. Yes, it was the middle of summer and the sun was blistering hot, but with a decent amount of cloud cover and the ocean spray catching the wind, it was a peaceful day.

The regular crowd was gone for the weekend, the chance to go see their families giving them the opportunity to get out of dodge in the blink of an eye.

But you were a local, and you enjoyed spending time outside of the naval bar, reading down by the water as the sun set over it. You were friends with some of the naval aviators, specifically long-term best friends with none other than Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.

After his father had passed away when he was young, Carole had him transfer schools, where Rooster met you and you became his best friend almost immediately.

Over the years, the two of you formed a very close and tight-knit friendship, as you were one of the only people Rooster had after his mom passed away. Thus, when everyone left town, the two of you stayed behind and hung out.

The sun had just started to set, and even with your shades fighting off the bright rays as you tried to read, you still had to squint at the pages to follow along with your book.

Next to you, Rooster was fiddling with the small cooler of drinks he'd managed to snag from Penny at the bar, reaching for iced tea to try to cool himself down.

Rooster, being himself, donned what most would call the ugliest shirt known to man, the bright reddish pink and yellow flowers splattered all over the green base of the Hawaiian shirt. The shirt was completely unbuttoned, exposing his abs and muscular pecs.

You did your best to focus on your book because while you weren't blind and you knew your best friend was hot, you'd seen him shirtless plenty of times over the years.

You could hear Rooster fumbling with the ice in the cooler, and blinking away from your book, you ask, "You need help over there?"

A small chuckle is your only response, and the sound of ice crashing before Rooster turns to you with a wide smile makes close your book and look at him.

"Iced tea?" he asks, offering the drink to you as his aviators slid down the bridge of his nose. You smile back at him and say, "Only if you didn't break my glass of lemonade for later."

Rooster's smile drops and he tugs the drink back toward his bare chest, the sides of his shirt gently flowing in the wind. "Ooo, might need to get a rain check then, you see, I had to put it out of its misery for trying to steal my iced tea."

A snort falls from your lips as you set your book down and face him, an eyebrow quirked at him as you quip, "You had to put it out of its misery? Did it try to attack you or something?"

Rooster shifts his weight forward, and looking over the brim of his glasses he whispers, "It did. You missed it, but it tried to cut off my right hand, so I did the only thing I could do."

At the same time, you both say, "Fight back." A moment of silence passes between the two of you before you both erupt in booming laughter, your hand coming up to swipe the iced tea from Rooster's hand.

But he's always one step ahead of you, and he lifts it above your head as he tuts, "Nu-uh, Y/n/n! This one's for me!" You struggle to your knees to try to grab at the cool drink, giggles still falling from your lips.

Rooster turns his body away from you, swapping the drink to his right hand as he chuckles, trying to keep you away from the last living drink from the cooler.

"Roooooooster," you call out in between giggles, your hands still trying to grasp at the drink. Your knee slides in the sand under you, and your right-hand flies out to catch yourself as you go down.

You end up catching yourself on Rooster's shoulder as your body weight pushes his back into the sand. The drink in his right-hand lowers as you fall into him, and his left wraps around you so you didn't whack your head on the cooler.

"That's my name," he mumbles cheekily up at you as try to catch your breath from all of your laughter. The drink was no longer a thought as you gazed deep into his hazel eyes, his shades having fallen into the sand a little ways away.

It's still around the two of you, minus the waves and the occasional call of a gull off in the distance. Rooster looks divine laying under you like this, his hair was longer than usual, the curls just barely beginning to be bleached by the sun.

His gaze was soft as he looked up at you, and before he could stop himself, he whispers, "Go out with me." His stomach drops as the words leave his mouth, and your reaction is similar.

You don't move from his lap as you stare down at him, your cheeks getting warm as you push your sunglasses from your nose up into your hair to keep it out of your face.

"No," you say, shaking your head. In reality, you wanted to lunge forward and shout yes, yes, yes! from the top of the world, but he was your best friend. There was no way you could do that to him, you couldn't ruin your friendship.

Rooster frowns and you think your world is about to implode for a second, but then a smirk returns to his lips as he says, "Why won't you go on a date with me, huh? Scared you'll like it or something?"

A huff falls from your lips, and your head falls to rest on Rooster's chest in practiced ease. You can feel Rooster's grip on you tighten, and when he squeezes your waist a few times, you pull back and look at him.

His gaze is serious, and you suddenly feel butterflies bloom in your stomach with the way he's looking at you. Rooster glances away, setting the iced tea down next to the cooler.

"Y/n, I want to take you out with me," he mumbles, his now free hand coming up to brush a piece of hair behind the end of your sunglasses. You shake your head once and say, "Roo, no, you don't. If we did this- if... if I say yes, we can't ever go back to the way we've been."

Rooster smiles lightly as he cups your cheek and replies, "But I don't want to be where we've been. I want a future, with you, and broken lemonade glasses. Days where I can come home and hug you, kiss you, make love to you." At the end of his sentence, he playfully wiggles his eyebrows, eliciting a soft giggle from the two of you.

He sighs as he tugs you closer and whispers, "I want you." You swallow thickly as you move your hands from his bare chest up to hold his face. His mustache tickles your hands as you run your thumb along his cheek, and you smile quietly for a moment before you nod.

"I want you too," you whisper, leaning into his touch, your nose barely brushing against his. You take a deep breath before cracking a wide smile and busting out, "As long as you promise to not break anymore of my lemonades!"

Rooster groans and leans back, falling flat against the sand. You giggle at his reaction but squeal when he pulls you to his chest. His hand releases your face, and with impeccable timing, he digs his fingers into your sides, tickling you mercilessly.

Cries and laughter fall from your lips as you wiggle helplessly in his arms, your limbs flailing in all directions. "Okay, okay, okay, I'm sorry!" you cry out as you catch one of his wrists.

You sigh as his attacks stop, giggles still escaping you as you reiterate, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I ruined your moment." Rooster smiles and leans back into you as he mutters, "Just as long as you'll promise me a thousand more."

You lean deep into him this time, your nose bumping against his as you whisper, "Always." At that, he makes the final push, and his lips land on yours in a soft but sweet kiss, the taste of iced tea on his tongue sending your mind into overdrive.

Ever so slightly you shift in his grasp, and before you know it, a cold liquid is running down the side of your legs. The both of you pull away from the kiss and roll away from the imposter, seeing the iced tea Rooster had set down just a few inches away, now laying on its side, the liquid poured out across the sand.

You turn back to Rooster and you mumble against his lips, "Now it's not only another lemonade you need to get me," and you fall back against his lips.

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bradshawsbaby · 2 years

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Bronco Baby

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Author’s Note: Ever since I mentioned my headcanon about Lydia being conceived in the Bronco, I know many of you have been waiting for this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: NSFW (18+) - Explicit depictions of unprotected PIV intercourse between a married couple, brief language.

“Do you even know how crazy you make me?” Bradley whispered against your lips, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he pressed you close to his chest. His fingers were warm as they danced up and down the bare skin of your back, eliciting shivers that had nothing to do with the salty breeze wafting through the dark evening air.

“Uh-uh,” you murmured teasingly in response, shaking your head back and forth slowly so that your lips brushed against your husband’s at a tantalizing speed. “I have no idea.”

“Such an awful little tease you can be sometimes, Mrs. Bradshaw,” Bradley grinned affectionately, his eyes crinkling in amusement even as he cradled your face in his hands and captured your mouth once more, sealing it with a searing kiss that sent pulses of desire shooting all the way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

You moaned softly in delight, burying your fingers in his hair as you kissed him back hungrily, your tongue dancing softly with your husband’s in a rhythm that the two of you had perfected over the years. As the kiss deepened, Bradley’s hand slid down your cheek, his calloused fingers coming to rest on the back of your neck, a sensation that immediately had goosebumps rising on your exposed skin. The weather had been a little too cool for the sundress you’d donned tonight, but it was Bradley’s favorite and so you hadn’t hesitated when picking out your outfit earlier that evening.

“Did you have a good night, honey?” Bradley asked, his voice low and husky as he nibbled his way across your jaw, settling on a spot just beneath your ear, which he then began to kiss and suckle gently.

“Yes,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back in pleasure at the feel of your husband’s warm mouth on your neck. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper date night,” you added with a little gasp, wrapping your arms around him and tilting your head back slightly to grant him more access.

“Mhm,” Bradley hummed softly against your flushed skin, the hand that wasn’t supporting the back of your neck now resting securely on your waist, squeezing you with the tender affection of a man who knew every inch of your body like the back of his hand. “Thank God for Mav and Penny, huh?” he asked with a breathy chuckle, nuzzling his nose against your throat, his mustache tickling your bare skin, as it so often did.

You and Bradley had spent the evening at a gorgeous seaside restaurant in La Jolla, one of the first dinners you’d gotten to enjoy as a couple, just the two of you, in quite some time. Penny had called a few days earlier, insisting that she and Mav wanted to kidnap Goose for the night so that you and your husband could celebrate a long-overdue date night.

“Go, have fun and relax,” she’d told the two of you when you’d dropped your son off at her and Mav’s place a few hours ago. “You know where to find us, and if you have too much fun, Goose is more than welcome to spend the night here,” she’d added with a knowing wink.

There was no one you and Bradley trusted your baby boy with more than Maverick and Penny, so you were able to make the drive out to La Jolla with clear heads, reveling in good food, delicious wine, and the heady joy of each other’s company.

The two of you had barely been able to keep your hands off each other on the drive back, to the point that you were honked at by several passing vehicles for veering ever so slightly into their lanes of traffic.

“Do you want to pull over on the beach for a little while, baby?” Bradley asked, his voice thick with unspoken need as he rested one hand on the inside of your thigh, tracing slow, sensual circles on your inner knee.

You simply nodded in response, the desire that was radiating off your husband in waves matched only by the yearning that had settled deep inside your bones.

That was how you and Bradley had ended up parked off the beaten path, in an isolated little alcove right on the beach, the waves crashing in the near distance as you and your husband made out in the front seat of his vintage Bronco like a couple of horny teenagers.

“Mmm, baby,” you groaned under your breath, tugging at Bradley’s hair to pull his lips away from your neck so that they could crash against yours once more. Your lips were swollen and hot from his kisses, yet desperately craving more.

“God, you’re so beautiful, honey,” Bradley told you in a hushed voice, his tone almost reverent as his hands glided over your shoulders, slowly tugging down the straps of the sundress he loved so much. “I’m so happy you wore this tonight,” he said, his fingers playing with the little ribbon fluttering from the top of one strap. “I can never take my eyes off you when you’ve got it on,” he added, burying his face in your neck as his hands freely roamed your body.

“I know,” you laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as you lazily ran your fingers through his hair. “That’s exactly why I wore it.”

Bradley grinned, kissing your chin, your nose, the corner of your mouth. “I might love this dress in particular, but you know I can’t take my eyes off you no matter what you’re wearing.” He leaned in closer, his lips pressed against your ear as he swept your hair off your neck. “And especially when you’re wearing nothing at all.”

“Baby,” you whispered, your voice almost swallowed up entirely by the sound of the waves crashing roughly on the shore. Biting down on your lower lip, you slowly crawled into your husband’s lap, straddling his powerful thighs as you sat up and wrapped your arms around his neck, lowering your head to press your forehead against his. “Make love to me,” you murmured against his lips, your eyes meeting his. You could see the reflection of your burning desire glowing in the dark brown depths of his gaze.

“You don’t have to ask me twice, honey,” Bradley grunted, shifting suddenly so that he had you pinned beneath him in the front of the Bronco, his lips crashing into yours as he kissed you with a renewed fervor and vigor.

For the past few months, you and Bradley had been making love as often and as frequently as you were able. Not long after Goose’s first birthday, you had made the decision together to begin actively trying for a second baby. Nothing had come of it as of yet, but you were doing your best not to let yourself get as stressed out about it as you had when you were trying to get pregnant with your son. It had been Bradley’s idea during your first attempt at getting pregnant to throw the ovulation tracking out the window and to have sex whenever and wherever you wanted—a plan you had been all too happy to concur with. Considering how desperate you were for each other, it seemed like just as good a plan in trying for Baby #2. Of course, having a small toddler at home did make things a bit more challenging. But that’s what tonight was for.

It was like a switch had been flicked inside both of you as you began tugging frantically at each other’s clothes, letting out small gasps and bursts of laughter as the confines and limits of the space inside the car made themselves known.

“Oh, honey. My honey,” Bradley groaned, pushing your pretty little sundress up until it was bunched around your waist, revealing the light pink lace panties you’d worn underneath. “So pretty and perfect for me,” he praised you, kissing you deeply as he spread your legs open and pressed his palm against you, rubbing softly. You felt the vibrations coursing through your body as he let out a hum of pleasure. “You’re so wet, baby. So wet for me. I know it’s going to feel so good inside you,” he whispered, tugging your panties to the side so that he could gently glide one finger along your soaking wet slit.

Your skin flushed hotly at your husband’s words of affection and praise. Bradley was never afraid to be vocal about how much he loved you, or about how turned on you made him, and it always gave you the most intoxicating rush of confidence and adrenaline.

“Baby! Mmm,” you moaned softly, reaching up to grasp onto Bradley’s forearm as he gently played with you, his fingers teasingly dipping inside you and then sliding back out again. Pinned beneath him as you were, with precious little space to move in the front of the Bronco, you could feel his need blooming almost instantly, growing hard and thick against your stomach, even through the confines of his jeans. “I need you inside me,” you begged, gazing up at him.

Bradley nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek, then to your lips. He shimmied back slightly, giving himself just enough room to reach up under your dress and hook his fingers through the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and discarding them on the floor of the Bronco within seconds. In his eagerness to sit up so that he could unzip his jeans, he bumped his head on the rearview mirror, which made you both laugh despite your aching desperation.

“Car sex always seems sexier in the movies,” Bradley chuckled, fumbling with the button on his jeans as he gazed down at you, legs splayed wide open beneath him. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, suddenly unable to think straight enough to do something as simple as unzip his pants.

“I’ve got you, honey,” you murmured, reaching up to quickly unbutton and unzip your husband’s jeans, tugging them down as he immediately worked to free himself, his stiff erection springing forth as lowered himself back down on top of you. Your toes curled in pleasure when you felt his head pressing against your entrance, your hips bucking in a desperate attempt to pull him inside you yourself. “Take me, baby. Take me,” you gasped, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face against his neck.

Within seconds, your husband was buried deep inside you, guttural cries escaping your lips as he began thrusting almost immediately, grasping your thigh in one hand and lifting it slightly so that he could hit you at an even deeper angle.

“Yes, yes, baby, just like that!” you cried out, sliding up and down the front bench of the Bronco from the force of Bradley’s powerful thrusts. You hooked your ankles together behind his waist in an effort to both anchor yourself and draw him even deeper inside you, his pulsing length stroking your tight walls as you clenched around him over and over again.

“Feels…so…good,” Bradley ground out through gritted teeth, his fingers lacing through yours as he pounded into you, quaking at the feeling of how tight you were around him. “You’re so tight, honey. Always so tight,” he groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder as you began to meet him thrust for thrust, your hips slamming together in a rhythm that was somehow both frenzied and steady all at the same time.

You cradled your husband’s head in your hands as he moved above you, your eyes fluttering closed and your mouth opened wide, though barely any sound escaped except for the occasional gasp or moan. “Right there,” you nodded, sliding your hands underneath Bradley’s Hawaiian shirt and feeling his muscles ripple through the undershirt he wore beneath. “Right there, baby,” you encouraged him, your chest heaving as he began entering you at the perfect angle, stimulating every sensitive nerve ending inside you.

Continuing to ride you steadily, Bradley lifted his head so that his eyes could find yours, no more words needing to be uttered in that moment as your gazes locked together. Reaching up, he gently tugged at the front of your sundress until your breasts fell out, your nipples hard and exposed to the chill evening air and the tender ministrations of your loving husband. That was another reason why Bradley loved this dress so much—no bra required.

Latching onto one hard nipple, Bradley began to suck softly, pinching and rolling the other one between his fingers as he kept up the fervent pace of his thrusts, lavishing every inch of your body that he could reach with love.

“Bradley! Oh, honey!” you gasped out loudly, frantically reaching out for something to grab onto—anything. The pleasure was becoming so intense that your brain felt fuzzy and you needed something to hold onto to steady you. Ultimately, you ended up reaching up behind you, clutching the top of the door, the window rolled all the way down so that your fingers could grab tightly at the solid metal of your husband’s car.

“So good. You feel so good, baby,” Bradley panted, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Despite the coolness of the night air, the temperature inside the Bronco was climbing steadily. “I’m gonna put another baby inside you, honey,” he promised, his thrusts growing more intense and determined.

“Please,” you nodded, clinging to him as your bodies bounced and rocked together in harmony. “Please, honey!”

You could feel the little droplets of sweat running down your neck as your body began approaching what was sure to be an explosive climax. Bradley must have noticed as well because he lowered his face to your neck once more, lightly licking your salty skin. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispered against your chest, pressing kisses to the tops of your breasts. “It’s fucking unreal.”

“Bradley! Baby, I’m so close,” you told him, your legs beginning to tremble, pressed underneath your husband’s weight. “Don’t stop. Don’t—faster. Go faster, baby, please,” you moaned, your back arching up off the seat as you buried your fingers in his hair and cupped his cheek with a shaking hand.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Bradley replied, pinning your hips down to the front seat of the car with both hands as his hips ricocheted against yours, while you squirmed and mewled desperately beneath him.

“Yes! Yes! YES!” you screamed, coming hard and fast as your body exploded around him, your walls quaking as he continued to slide in and out of you, your legs turning to Jell-O while your husband kissed you and chased his own orgasm.

“Don’t let me go, don’t let me go,” you begged, practically incoherent from the ecstasy your body had just experienced.

“I won’t. I won’t ever let you go,” Bradley promised, pressing a kiss to your hair and holding you close to his chest. Moments later, you felt him bottom out inside you and hold himself there, a soft grunt escaping from his lips as he spilled himself deep in your core, his chest heaving from the force of his own big finish.

The two of you lay like that for quite some time, Bradley still buried deep inside you as the two of you held onto each other like two people drowning in the middle of the ocean, clinging to each other desperately and working hard to catch your breath.

“I love you so much,” Bradley whispered hoarsely, finally breaking the tender silence. He brushed your hair back from your face and dropped a kiss on your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“I love you, too. More than anything,” you whispered back, stroking his cheek affectionately.

“I don’t want to move. I wish we could stay like this all night,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Me, too,” you murmured, biting down on your lower lip. You smiled in amusement, your eyes crinkling softly. “But something tells me we wouldn’t be a very welcome sight when the beach opens tomorrow morning,” you laughed.

Bradley laughed as well, nodding. “When you’re right, you’re right,” he winked, stealing another kiss. Letting out a soft groan, he slowly shifted, sliding out of you slowly, trying to keep as much of his seed inside you as possible.

You immediately felt bereft the second he was no longer inside you.

“You look so pretty, honey. Stunning. As always,” Bradley told you, carefully reaching down to pick your lace panties up off the floor of the car and tenderly slide them back up your legs, tucking them into place. He pressed a couple kisses to the insides of your knees, then pulled your dress back down.

You sat up slowly as your husband pulled back and adjusted himself, running your fingers through your hair, which you knew must look wild at this point. You also knew that your back would be aching tomorrow, but it was more than worth it.

“Time to go home,” you yawned softly, suddenly feeling exhausted as you curled up against your husband’s side and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Time to go home,” Bradley nodded, kissing the top of your head as he put the Bronco in drive and peeled off into the evening darkness.

A few weeks later, after you had finally seen another little positive sign on your pregnancy test, you and Bradley were lying in bed and he noticed the huge smile that you couldn’t seem to wipe off your face, no matter how hard you tried.

“What’s that big smile for?” he asked with a grin, wrapping you up in his arms and resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“Oh, nothing,” you told him, giggling despite yourself. “I just think I figured something out today.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bradley asked, lifting his head and raising an eyebrow as he looked down at you. “Care to share?”

Grinning from ear to ear, your eyes sparkled as you looked back at him. “Well, I was backtracking and trying to figure out exactly when this new little bundle of joy was conceived so that we can get as accurate a due date as possible,” you explained slowly, a teasing smile touching the corners of your mouth.

“And?” Bradley grinned, playing along indulgently. “Did you figure it out?”

“I did,” you nodded, smirking slightly. “I do believe this little nugget was conceived after our date night in La Jolla. You know, that night on the beach? In the Bronco?” you grinned slyly.

Bradley’s eyes widened slightly and then he let out a soft whoop of laughter, gathering you up in his arms. “That’s the power of the Bronco, baby,” he joked, winking at you.

Your laughter was swallowed up by his sweet kiss.

#mr. & mrs. bradshaw #rooster x wife!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #mrs. bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun: maverick #top gun

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laurellerual · 4 months

Text

ASoIaF: Arya’s change of clothes

AGOT

Arya III: His claws raked at the front of her leather jerkin. (...) Arya whirled, felt leather catch and tear as a huge fang nipped at her jerkin, and then she was running.

Arya V: Some of them stared at her boots or her cloak (heavy woolen cloak) (...) The silver bracelet she'd hoped to sell had been stolen her first night out of the castle, along with her bundle of good clothes (a velvet skirt, a silk tunic, some smallclothes, a dress her mother had embroidered for her, a satin gown) , snatched while she slept in a burnt-out house off Pig Alley. All they left her was the cloak she had been huddled in, the leathers on her back, her wooden practice sword … and Needle.

ACOK

Arya VI: "That hair is a fright and a nest for lice as well. We'll have it off, and then you're for the kitchens." (...) Goodwife Harra slapped her so hard that her swollen lip broke open all over again (...) They gave her a shift of grey roughspun wool and a pair of ill-fitting shoes, and sent her off. (...) On the road Arya had felt like a sheep, but Harrenhal turned her into a mouse. She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift,

Arya X: They required dressing like a page and washing more than she liked. (...) In her cell, she stripped to the skin and dressed herself carefully, in two layers of smallclothes, warm stockings, and her cleanest tunic. It was Lord Bolton's livery. On the breast was sewn his sigil, the flayed man of the Dreadfort. She tied her shoes, threw a wool cloak over her skinny shoulders, and knotted it under her throat.

ASOS

Arya I: She was still dressed in her page's garb, and on the breast over her heart was sewn Lord Bolton's sigil, the flayed man of the Dreadfort. (...) "Who dressed the poor child in those Bolton rags?"

Arya IV: They insisted she dress herself in girl's things, brown woolen stockings and a light linen shift, and over that a light green gown with acorns embroidered all over the bodice in brown thread, and more acorns bordering the hem. (...) Lady Smallwood said as the women laced the gown up Arya's back. (...) one sleeve was torn on her stupid acorn dress.

Arya IV: The dress she put her in this time was sort of lilac-colored, and decorated with little baby pearls. The only good thing about it was that it was so delicate that no one could expect her to ride in it.

Arya IV: So the next morning as they broke their fast, Lady Smallwood gave her breeches, belt, and tunic to wear, and a brown doeskin jerkin dotted with iron studs. "They were my son's things".

Arya V: Then they stole all the clothes that Lady Smallwood had given her and dressed her up like one of Sansa's dolls in linen and lace.

AFFC

Arya III: In the black of night she rose again, donned the clothes she'd worn from Westeros, and buckled on her swordbelt. Needle hung from one hip, her dagger from the other. With her floppy (woolen hat patched with leather) hat on her head, her fingerless gloves tucked into her belt, and her silver fork in one hand, she went stealing up the steps. (...) She emptied her pouch into her palm; five silver stags, nine copper stars, some pennies and halfpennies and groats. She scattered them across the water. Next her boots. They made the loudest splashes. Her dagger followed, the one she'd gotten off the archer who had begged the Hound for mercy. Her swordbelt went into the canal. Her cloak, tunic, breeches, smallclothes, all of it. All but Needle.

ADWD

The Blind Girl: The blind girl tied a strip of rag around her head to hide her useless eyes (...) The waif had shaved her head for her when they took her eyes; a mummer's cut (...) she gave her pox scars and a mummer's mole on one cheek with a dark hair growing from it. (...) The clothes she wore were rags, faded and fraying, but warm clean rags for all that. Under them she hid three knives—one in a boot, one up a sleeve, one sheathed at the small of her back. (...) A cracked wooden begging bowl and belt of hempen rope completed her garb.

The Ugly Little Girl: An ugly girl should dress in ugly clothing, she decided, so she chose a stained brown cloak fraying at the hem, a musty green tunic smelling of fish, and a pair of heavy boots. Last of all she palmed her finger knife.

The Ugly Little Girl: They brought a robe for her as well, the soft thick robe of an acolyte, black upon one side and white upon the other.

TWOW

Mercy: She shaved, donned her smallclothes, and slipped a shapeless brown wool dress down over her head. One of her stockings needed mending, she saw as she pulled it up. (...) Her boots were lumps of old brown leather mottled with saltstains and cracked from long wear, her belt a length of hempen rope dyed blue. She knotted it about her waist, and hung a knife on her right hip and a coin pouch on her left. Last of all she threw her cloak across her shoulders. It was a real mummer's cloak, purple wool lined in red silk, with a hood to keep the rain off, and three secret pockets too. She'd hid some coins in one of those, an iron key in another, a blade in the last. A real blade, not a fruit knife like the one on her hip, but it did not belong to Mercy, no more than her other treasures did.

#arya stark #asoiaf #house stark

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pmitchell · 2 years

Text

we’ve got time. | pete “maverick” mitchell x reader

warnings: NSFW! (If you’re a minor, DO NOT interact), oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, a slight daddy kink (i don’t even need to explain myself for this), a little Top Gun: Maverick spoilers, and a little bit of angst sprinkled here and there.

pairings: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x reader

word count: 1,940 words (7 minutes reading time)

author’s notes: This one got away from me, I didn’t mean for it to be this long lol. Let me know if I should write another part, though, because I do have one in mind 👀 smut is contained between dividers, so skip it if you want!

EDIT: part two is here!

The Hard Deck will always be your favorite place to wind down after a long day. You had just walked in and found a seat at the bar when Penny spotted a cellphone placed on the bar by the person next to you. She rang the bell and the bar erupted with cheers as the man groaned in exasperation.

“I’ll have a beer, please, Penny,” you chuckled.

“You got it, (Y/N),” she said, handing you a bottle of cold beer

“Thanks,” you said to the man, lifting your beer up. He laughed and pulls his wallet, eager to close his tab before anyone can order more drinks.

You sipped your beer and looked around the room, the energy of the bar lifting up after Penny rang her bell just like it always does. That was when you spot Pete in his white uniform in your peripheral.

“Hey! You’re looking fine,” You greeted him, slightly flirtatiously as you look at him donned in a crisp white uniform you have never seen him wear. Pete took slow steps to get to you and that was when you notice the sullen look on his face. “Everything okay?” You asked, walking to meet him halfway.

The chaos at the bar became distant echoes as he leaned closer to your ear, speaking just loud enough for you to hear amidst the loud ambience. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled away to look at you.

He was called to do the mission.

The dangerous mission he was not allowed to tell you much about, but you knew the severity of. You knew he’d be gone for a while, and you knew that there is a chance he might not be back at all.

You looked at him intently, the loud volume of the jukebox and the chatter of the patrons disappeared, as if someone had pressed mute on the remote control. He took your hand and led you out back. The sun was setting, a melancholic setup by nature to make your goodbyes even harder.

“First time I ever see you in this uniform and you come to tell me you’re going away,” you chuckled ironically as you cross your arms in front of your chest to keep out the cold as you kept your eyes at the waves crashing on the shore.

Pete took his hat off to look at you properly as you tried your best to keep all emotions at bay. “Come here,” he tugged your arm gently.

You faced him and he enveloped you in a long hug. You desperately wanted him to promise to come home, but you knew better than to do that. Not only can he not promise you, you also knew he would not think twice about sacrificing himself for the other pilots. You knew that asking that of him will only make things harder, so you pulled away and smile.

He swept a few strands of your hair away from your face and pulled you by the waist for a kiss. He kissed you slow as if to savor every second and study your every detail.

“Do you have to leave now?” You asked when he rested his forehead on yours.

He looked at his watch. He did not have to report until dawn, and the night is still fairly young. “We’ve got time,” he said.

Back at your place, the two of you did not even make it to the bedroom before he started kissing you urgently. His hand found the hem of your shirt and pulled it off. He then hoisted you up and carried you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and began to unbutton his uniform jacket, making a point to give you an entire show. You bit your lower lip as you watched, his face temporarily disappearing from view as he pulled the white t-shirt underneath his uniform off.

Before you knew it, he was hovering on top of you. He dove in for a kiss on your lips and then trailed kisses along your cheek, your jaw, and down to your neck. One hand took off your bra and palmed your breast as he continued to leave bite marks on your neck. You could feel your body heating up from the anticipation.

He moved down and took your other breast into his mouth, sucking and gently biting the tender skin, making you whimper. He left kisses on your skin as he made his way down, hands unbuttoned your pants and pulling them off your legs. His finger toyed with your clit through your underwear and you gasped and closed your legs in reflex, as if he knew which button to press.

Pete chuckled, “Open up, baby,” he said as he took your underwear off.

As soon as you part your legs, he wasted no time in devouring your slick pussy. He hummed in satisfaction, sending small vibrations on your sensitive nub.

“Ah...fuck!” You gasped, hand gripping the sheet underneath you.

His tongue traced your sopping wet hole while his thumb took over your clit, varying the pressure as you buck your hips up, wanting more.

“You gonna cum for me?” He taunted, his lips returned to your clit to suck it while he inserted a finger into your tight core.

“Pete, please...” you begged.

He added another finger into your pussy and massaged your walls with them while his lapped at your clit. You trembled with pleasure, muscles tightened around his digits as you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he urged you on, fingers moving faster on your pussy. “Let go.”

You moan out his name as he watched you come undone, your breathing erratic and your toes curled as he left kisses on your thigh while you rode out your climax. He undid his pants, kicked them off and used his fingers wet from your arousal to pump his own hard member, hovering over you once again while you tried to regain your breath.

“You okay?” He asked, grinning proudly at what he just did.

“Wonderful,” you sighed. You watched him pump his own cock and you could feel your pussy aching to be filled up with it. Your hand trailed down his body and you took his cock in your hand, pumping it and rubbing the tip against your slick pussy.

He let out a grunt, trying to keep himself together. It was your turn to leave kisses on his neck; he rested his hand on the side of your head, gently caressing you with his thumb as his other hand gripped you tight on your hips.

Impatient, his hand left your hips and seized your hand from his member, intertwining his fingers with yours above your head. “You ready for me?”

“Yes, Captain,” you whispered in his ear, desperate to feel him inside you.

Pete growled at your words, lifted your thigh, and spanked your ass, causing you to giggle. He wanted to start slow, but hearing you call him that drove him crazy, so he lined his tip with your entrance and thrusts into you halfway with one quick motion, as if to give you a taste of your own medicine.

You yelped and closed your eyes, throwing your head back while he smiled, trying his best to suppress his own groans at the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around his cock. He pulled out just slightly before thrusting in again, almost all the way in this time.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he said under his breath.

“Hmm,” you hummed, tightening your muscles around him even more.

“Fuck,” he grunted, hanging his head low while you chuckle, loving the way you drive him crazy.

He kissed your lips, allowing you to adjust to his size before slowly thrusting in and out of your wet pussy. This time, you can no longer hold back your moans. You closed your eyes and squeezed his hand as you felt him stretching you with every thrust.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and he ground his pelvis with your clit every time he bottomed out inside you. The sensation drove you crazy.

“Harder,” you gasped and he wasted no time in obliging.

He angled his hips and thrusted into you, hitting your g-spot and sending sparks through your body. “There it is,” he smiled, hitting the spot again and again while you scream out his name.

He decided to rub your clit with his fingers this time, focusing his thrusts so that he could feel every inch of you.

Your muscles tightened around him when you felt his fingers on your clit. “Ah! Daddy!” you whimpered while he grunted at the sensation of your cunt squeezing him.

“I know, baby,” he spoke through his own heavy breathing.

“I’m cumming,” you managed to say in between your moans.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Pete said. “I want you to cum with me,” he added, moving faster this time.

You moaned louder at his speed, your fingernails carving into the skin on his back. You tried to hold yourself back, but the feeling of his cock ramming inside you was not exactly helping. “Daddy, I can’t,” you hissed, your moans escaping you involuntarily now as you felt the coils deep inside you winding tight.

“Yes, you can,” he urged. “Come on, sweetheart, just a little more,” he said, grunting in your ear as his own climax approached.

He continued to thrust into you and just as he felt himself about to cum, he brushed his hand on your face. “Look at me,” he said and you opened your eyes to look into his green eyes that looked slightly a darker grey in this light. “Cum with me, baby.”

Your legs trembled as you came, head spinning from one of the best climax you have ever felt. The feeling of his cock shooting ropes of warm cum inside you made you cum just that much harder. Pete buried his head into your neck as he came, his hips thrusting short hard thrusts inside you while you squeezed him tight.

Tired and spent, he collapsed on top of you. The two of you refusing to move as he stayed inside you, leaving gentle kisses on your neck as you both try to regain your breathing. Pete looked into your eyes and your hand moved to brush his short hair out of his forehead.

Promise me you’ll come home, you wanted to say. But you held yourself back again. Instead you just kissed him once again.

The two of you spent the rest of the night talking and ordering pizza for dinner. As the conversation slowly withered and the night grew, you realized you were going to have to let him go soon. You turned your eyes to the clock. 11.30pm.

“You should get some sleep,” you said.

He took a glance at the clock and sighed. Turning off the lamp, he then pulled you close to him. You didn’t realize that sleep had taken over you. In your head, you were still talking to him, feeling his arms wrap around you and his fingers gently brushing your skin.

In reality, Pete had gotten up at three in the morning and got dressed in his uniform once again. He watched you sleep for a little bit before pressing a long kiss on your forehead.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he whispered.

When you woke up in the morning, he was gone. A note left on your nightstand.

We’ve got time. - Maverick

taglist: @flyinlove

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my future Top Gun fics!

#pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete mitchell x reader #top gun #maverick x reader #top gun fanfic #maverick top gun #pete maverick mitchell fanfic #top gun: maverick

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azsazz · 1 year

Text

No Tricks, Just Treats

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: In honor of Halloween can you do an imagine where Azriel and reader take the kids trick or treating? ❤️😭

Warnings: None, fluffy Halloween with the babes.

Word Count: 1,963

Notes: This is so flipping cute, thank you for the idea 💙

_________________________________________

“Is everyone almost ready?” Rhys calls as Azriel lets him, Feyre, and Nyx in through the front door. They’re the last of the family to arrive at your home, where you’d all agreed to meet before taking the horde of children of the Inner Circle trick-or-treating.

“Uncle Rhys, look! I’m you!” Wren yells, racing to him with Gideon on his heels. Nyx grins at his cousins, looking the two of them over. They’re all dressed as each other’s fathers: Wren wearing a replica of Rhys’ favorite suit, Gideon clad in blue siphons while Nyx wears leathers with red stones.

You want to laugh at Nyx’s overly colored eyebrows, made to look thick like his uncle Cassian’s. How they managed to find fake muscles for him to wear under his leathers you didn’t know, maybe they’d paid a pretty penny for the stuffed fabric, but you were intent on finding out.

“Would you look at that? You chose the handsomest uncle to be,” Rhys compliments, a feline smile on his lips as he admires his outfit. You’d had a replica of one of Rhys’ favorite suits made by a seamstress in town and had asked Feyre to force her mate into the matching one.

“You may be the handsomest, but I have the biggest wingspan,” Gideon claims proudly, flaring his wings. The blue stones adorning his clothes twinkle in the light like his eyes and Cassian chokes on his drink while Azriel’s cheeks burn bright. You and the other females glare at your respective partners.

“Alright now, easy boys,” Rhys says, hardly controlling the laughter threatening to burst from deep in his chest. Feyre smacks him on the arm and he tries his best not to roll his eyes. “Is everyone ready then?”

Your oldest daughter glides across the room, greeting her uncle at the door, twirling around and showing off her costume. “I’m ready Uncle Rhys!”

Zuzu is dressed in the billowiest silken threads of the Day Court, bright white and striking against the dark colors of the night. She dons a golden crown atop her head, looking much like the sun, looking exactly like an ancient Goddess of the Day Court.

Knox is bundled in a hooded robe which he keeps pulling down over his eyes. The toy scythe in his hand droops by his side when you crouch before him, tugging the velvety cloth back so he can see.

The three year old stares up at you with wide eyes, face stoic as you fuss over him. He calls the shadows from his twin who’s animatedly babbling to Wren now who is helping straighten her witch’s hat. The little broom in her hands swings wildly and she giggles, nearly hitting the boy in the face.

The tendrils swirl around Knox’s feet, immediately tugging the hood back down once you’ve fixed it. You raise your eyebrow, giving your youngest son a look that he can’t even see with the fabric falling across his eyes.

Baz comes racing into the room dressed as an undead being, bloodied and torn clothes. He’d made his aunt Feyre paint his face scarily, and it had been truly terrifying for all of your other children who weren’t dressed as something so gorey.

And he’d had a ball chasing the young ones around until they realized it was just their older brother. The scolding he’d gotten from Azriel was well worth it by the look that shone on Baz’s face, the cheeky little thing.

“Mom, can we go trick-or-treating in the Autumn Court? Please,” Wren begs, running over from where he was comparing costume details with his cousins. “Nyxie told me that they give out the best caramels!”

“And what does Uncle Rhys think of all this?” you question, scouring the room for the High Lord. He’s pulling a tiny black stuffed kitten from between the folds of realms for Malos, who stares at it, clearly unimpressed by her Uncle’s tricks.

There really was nothing that could impress that girl.

“I dunno,” Wren shrugs, looking down at his feet.

“I think it’s best we stay in Velaris tonight, Wren,” you try to soothe the stray strand of hair from his eyes but he ducks, wanting it to fall exactly like the stubborn piece of his uncle’s hair does. “For the little ones. Maybe when you’re older you can do that sweetheart.”

Or maybe when the Night Court and Autumn Court are on good terms.

He nods solemnly, “Yes mommy.”

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

Wren picks lint from his jacket after every house, causing his cousins to burst into laughter each time. He’d thanked the female fae at the first house they’d stopped at with a “Darling” at the end, which Azriel quickly put a stop to.

The older children are two houses ahead and have no means of slowing down, even when you and Feyre call after them. You clutch your warmed spiced cider tighter in your hands, the air becoming cooler as night nears.

Azriel’s helping Zuzu with her coat that he’d been holding, the stubborn girl claiming that she wasn’t cold at all when they had first started. She complains that the maroon jacket is ruining her costume, but her father doesn’t give her any room to argue.

Jax reaches up for your cup. You’d been sharing your tasty drink with your fourth born, who was more interested in what you were sipping on than receiving candy from the houses. Cassian had even tried to help him, gently pulling the child away from you and leading him up towards the house, but Jax had burst into tears, screaming and wailing exactly like the banshee he was dressed as and the warrior had speedily surrendered him back to you.

The little boy preferred to be near you or his father, and didn't like strangers at all, even if they were giving out free candy.

You’d given him a sip of your drink and a sucker to help soothe him and he’d favored the sweet liquid over the candy pop, which Azriel had caught before it hit the ground once Jax had abandoned it, popping it into his own mouth with a wink at you before he stalked off towards the older children.

“Baz,” Wren calls from a few yards over, “Come on, this house has chocolate dipped cookies!”

His favorite treat, anyone who knew Baz would know that. He perks up, remembering to say thank you to the older fae female who’d just handed him a piece of candy before he’s abandoning his sisters, jumping down the steps and taking off across the spookily decorated lawn to catch up with his older brother.

“Basil,” you scold as he dodges the intricate tombstones that must’ve taken hours to paint.

“Sorry mom,” he calls over his shoulder but doesn’t sound very sorry and he doesn’t stop, dipping and ducking under a low hanging branch with a silhouette of a witch in front of a moon hanging from a branch.

You send the woman an apologetic look but she’s just shaking her head and laughing fondly, clearly used to the excited children around Velaris during the holiday.

Knox chases after his older brother, making it only a few feet before the fabric of his cloak works against him and he trips, face planting on the cobblestone streets.

You wince as he looks up from the ground, hood still falling across his eyes, and he shoves the covering back, falling completely off of his head as he peers up at you, gouging your reaction.

You don’t give him one, remaining neutral-faced as he makes his decision whether to cry or get back up.

He shoves his feet underneath him and it takes him a moment to maneuver the thick robes but he eventually does, staring at his scraped palms before he holds them out for you to see.

“Are you okay baby?” you hand your drink to Cassian as he passes, making his way towards Az and the older boys. The little ones walk much too slowly for him and he’s ready to take his son and cousins out for some innocent trickery without you or Az’s knowledge.

You see him already downing your drink from the corner of your eye as Knox and Malos’ shadows dart for the child in front of you, swirling around his tiny hands and up around his ears. He looks to where his twin is, hand-in-hand with Zuzu who’s shoving her glowing ring that changes colors with her moods onto her finger. She looks over, curious as to if he’s okay.

He sends the dark tendrils of midnight back to his twin, reinforcements as Rhys places a gentle hand on Zuzu’s shoulder, ushering the two girls off of the front porch with a dazzling smile that makes the old female blush. Nesta and Feyre tease him when he reaches the sidewalk, the oldest Archeron scooping the baby witch off of the ground to coo at.

Knox’s attention returns to yours and he doesn’t look like he’s going to cry but you know he needs some love. You take his hands in your own and plant soft kisses to his skin. When you pull away he’s reaching up to be in your arms and you comply, tucking him into your side while Jax helps by cleaning up Knox’s spilled candy and his toy weapon.

“Here mommy, Knox dropped these,” he says, holding the boy's possessions out to you. You thank him kindly, taking your son’s stuff. Jax’s brows furrow as he realizes that you no longer have his drink with Knox in one hand and his stuff in the other.

“Uncle Cass has it,” you answer the unspoken question on your son’s face. He peeks to where the warlord stands with the older children, cup hanging empty by his side. Jax deflates a bit and clings to your leg tightly, your heart panging in your chest at the sight.

“Maybe Uncle Rhys will get you another one, if you ask nicely,” you try your best to hug him where he’s glued to your limb but it’s awkward and you end up patting his back with the scythe.

He sighs softly but it’s better than having to go towards the rowdier uncle who is whispering mischievous things in his son and cousin’s ears. Jax slinks towards the calm and collected High Lord.

“What’s taking you all so long?” Azriel appears, and he’s chewing on the lollipop stick, his tongue green from the candy that melted away. He’s trying to usher you on without seeming pushy, but he wants his children to get to as many houses as they can so he can sneak some of their treats when they get home.

“Little man down,” you reply, bouncing Knox on your hip for emphasis. He shows his father his hands, revealing his tender palms.

“My poor boy,” Azriel says, taking the boy that’s suddenly reaching out for him. You pass him over with a pretend shocked face, watching as Azriel fusses over your youngest son, pressing soft kisses to his hands and cheeks, tugging up his hood once again while Knox rests his head in the crook of Azriel’s neck. “All tuckered out little man?”

He sways his body slightly, rocking Knox back and forth as he soothes him.

“I think we should be heading back soon,” you suggest, watching them with a soft look.

“A few more blocks, love, and then we can go home,” Azriel offers as you two bring up the rear to the group, the rest of your family walking ahead. “We’ll help the little ones to bed and then I’ll show you some tricks and get my treat.” The spymaster winks and you bite back the grin of excitement threatening to split your face in two.

You can hardly wait.

#azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel/you #azriel #dad!azriel #daddyaz #azsazz #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acotar next gen

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what-the-stories-have-foretold · 7 months

Text

My Love, I See My Self in You

Chrollo x reader

Navi.

Warnings: philosophy class has been a while, it´s possible that the following discussion about the self doesn´t make any sense. Or maybe it does. Who am I to say?, existential crisis El superiority, slightly implied yandere/not fully healthy relationship, also there is a reason I spelled it my self/our selves instead of myself and ourselves

Autumn Event.

Wordcount: 1.3k+

Love and passion – the spirited soul. What is the self without emotion? Does it need emotion for a self? Is that why you feel so lonely? Is that why he seems so void? It is a self he lacks, but there are other souls you both possess. You know of his need to eat to live and your throat has been dry more times than you could count. Life, apparently, appends the appetitive soul. While you cannot speak for yourself, you know he has intellect, you know there is a rational soul within him; too often have his arguments disarmed you.

So, what truly makes the self?

You could feel his gaze on you. A shiver went down your spine at his touch, running up your arm for just a sliver of your attention. He smiled when you turned to him.

“There you are. Penny for your thoughts?” he hummed, appreciatively.

You paused, unsure if you wanted to dive into that discussion on an evening as lovely as this one. Sensing your uncertainty, his fingers returned to your arm, drawing goosebumps from your skin.

“What do you think, is the self?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he briefly halted his movements. “Because you are rational and possess basic needs and even passion, but - is it really the lack of emotions that makes you so void?”

A chuckle escaped him and he resumed his ministrations, caressing your arm.

“Do you follow Plato´s philosophy?”

You shook your head. “I was merely entertaining the idea.”

“For you? Or for me?” His eyes darkened. You met his gaze head on, smiling sickeningly sweet.

“For you, of course.”

He hummed, but his eyes told you he didn´t believe you. Yet, he carried on:

“Sokrates believed it was the soul that was essence of the human person.”

“But then what is the soul?”

“Part of it being the individual´s intellectuality and morality. He thought it was this that made the personality.” You grimaced. “Is that theory not to your liking, sweetheart?” He let out a soft laugh when you shook your head. “Well, then, it is your turn again. What other theory do you have stored in your pretty little head?”

“I always thought Plato´s three souls are quite similar to Freud´s Es, Ich and Über-Ich," you said, more to yourself than to him.

Chrollo leaned forward, propping himself up on his legs. Still, he could reach your thigh with some of his fingers and couldn´t help but use the opportunity to continue touching you. While you would never admit it out loud, his gentle touch was indeed soothing. The amused gleam in his eyes told you he knew.

“I do – to a certain degree – agree with the tabula rasa; but more so in an-“ you snapped your fingers, trying to find the right words “-in an Existentialist way. Say…Locke´s theory about experiences, at least in part, creating the self.”

“You´re an existentialist?”

“Well, I do think we are shaped – our personality that is – by our experiences as well as the things we are taught – or not taught. Socialisation can either enrich or scar us; we can learn from it, reject it or embrace it. Either way: it makes us…us.”

“Then, in this case, would the “personality” you speak of constitute as a self?”

You pause.

“I – I´m not sure. I guess so, yes? At least partially? When I say “I”, do I mean my self? But that doesn´t really answer the question, does it? Whether I call it soul or self or me…I still don´t know what it means.”

You bit your lips and looked up at him. His eyes were brimming with fascination, he was listening to your every word.

“Maybe you´re all wrong?” he challenged you, oh how he loved to do that. You could feel his hands buzzing from excitement. “Maybe there is no self and all of this is pointless?”

You rolled your eyes.

“None of this is pointless, and you know it.”

“Do I now?” His smile widened.

“You get to pick my brain and I get to voice my thoughts.”

“I do enjoy picking your brain,” he admitted.

You didn´t even entertain the idea of replying to that.

“Anyways. If there is no self then I don´t exist.”

“That´s an interesting thesis.” You rolled your eyes again, but he continued as if nothing happened. “Maybe the self is just the brain?”

“I mean, to an extent that may be true. Plato´s souls can all – to a certain degree – be attributed to the brain. But that in of itself does not disprove the existence of a self. Maybe the self is the brain, perhaps it is within the brain. That doesn´t really matter in this discussion.”

“What about Ryle; "I act therefore I am"?”

“Now we´re back to existentialism.”

“Then what about this,” he leaned back again, eyes locking with yours, “Merleau-Ponty. You cannot view the self objectively. What we believe to know of both the self and the world is based solely on subjective experiences.”

You bit your lips and tapped your foot on the ground, frustrated. Chrollo, however, remained calm, gazing at you with utmost interest, heart thrumming in anticipation to your response.

“I-“ you cut yourself off. While you saw reason in what he proposed, you couldn´t help but feel like there was more to the self than this. “Then…what about...the five skandhas?” you asked, finally meeting his eyes again.

“Oh?”

“The self not only relies on feelings, whether emotional or physical, but also our senses. Mental activities such as thinking are also part of it. Then we have mental states and ideas: that includes prejudices and faith, but also desire, habits – even pride - and many more.

And, of course, there is awareness as well as our form itself – our physical body. I-“ You broke off again, unsure how to continue.

Chrollo hummed, seemingly satisfied with the glimpse he got from your mind. But then again, he was nothing but greedy.

“What about anatman then?”

“I never quite understood the "no self",” you admitted, quietly. “But if it is based solely on the fact that the self is not permanent – simply because we, as humans, are ever changing – I…I don´t think that is a good reason? I do not claim that my self is not subject to change, but that fact does not make it any less of a self? The person I was ten years ago – even just a moment ago – is different to the person I am now. Our selves are different – although they probably have some things in common still. But just how the differences between you and me don´t take away our claim to a self, neither do the differences between the person I am and the person I used to be. We are different people, with different selves.”

Chrollo let out a shaky breath.

“Then, what does this all tell you. Do you have an answer now?”

Sighing, you rubbed your eyes.

“You do have emotions, but they are…sterile,” you started, carefully, ”Only to the outside does it look like you lack a self. You have both physical form and consciousness. You can feel pain, whether it would draw blood or a tear. I have seen you plan the most intricate heists in your mind. I know that you enjoy our little morning ritual and that you believe it to be bad luck to leave without telling me that you love me. I know you have faith in the troupe´s vision and that there is nothing more that you desire than all of our happiness – even at the cost of your own life. You take pride in your knowledge, your experience and your intelligence – but still you can be afraid.” Your voice cracked. “Maybe you seem so void because you don´t know how to define yourself – not even being able to pretend like you do. And maybe,” you added, quietly, “Maybe I´m not lonely, just scared.”

Your eyes searched for comfort in his, but what met your gaze were only his widened, glassy eyes. After a moment, he coughed and drew you into his arms, holding you protectively against his chest and resting his chin on your head.

“We are young, sweetheart, we have all the time in the world to discover our selves." He paused. "And we have each other.”

You closed your eyes, returning his hug.

"Yeah, at least we have each other," you whispered.

#chrollo #chrollo x reader #hxh chrollo #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #hxh x reader #hxh #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter #what-the-stories-have-foretold #x gn!reader #autumn event #autumn festival

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juunobox · 7 months

Text

──★ ˙ ̟ after a night out w nikolai, he teases u in the backseat of the car... (nikolai gogol x gn! reader)

summary : taking advantage of his ability - the overcoat; nikolai teases u in the backseat of the car. that's it. warnings : suggestive themes!!!!!!! note : i hc that nikolai doesnt enjoy fancy dates blah blah he'd rather go somewhere outdoors:3 i also hc him to enjoy sweet desserts lol, this fic mentions these personal hcs of mine.. so keep that in mind before reading

You managed to convince Nikolai to go on a dinner date with you. It wasn't that he would outright reject the idea, but Nikolai wasn't typically one for fancy indoor dinners. He found the most joy in unconventional outings, in the great outdoors – whether it be gardens, forests, cliffs, or atop tall buildings. As long as he's with you, indulging in his favorite sweet treats; he would be happy. Though he does have a preference for outdoor dates...

That's why, today you wanted to set a different mood for the date. And after a bit of convincing, Nikolai agreed. The setting for this evening was a rooftop restaurant, an elegant and classy place. It was a first-time experience for both of you, stepping into such a refined dining environment. The atmosphere was undeniably romantic, and the cuisine was exceptional. Worth every penny.

Nikolai donned a monochrome suit with striped pants, a reminiscent of his usual attire as a member of the DOA. Yet, he had swapped his usual hat for a more sophisticated option this time, completing the look with black oxford shoes. He looked positively radiant, bringing a touch of class to his familiar style.

Your attire perfectly complemented his, too. An elegant and refined outfit that seamlessly matched Nikolai's black-and-white suit. The two of you concluded your fine dining experience by strolling along the moonlit street, leaving the rooftop restaurant behind. The cityscape painted a captivating tableau of lights in the night sky. It was a delightful evening.

With a soft smile, you turned to Nikolai, curious to hear his thoughts on the experience. "Kolya, what do you think of tonight? Trying something new like this, I mean," you asked, a chuckle escaping your lips. "We haven't done something like this together before."

Nikolai's laughter filled the air, his warm amusement matching the pleasant mood. "Haha! Well, it was fun, dove," he replied, "I've always enjoyed our outings, but it also feels nice to try new things with you." A mischievous smirk graced his lips as he studied your appearance briefly. "Not to mention, I got to see you in this dazzling outfit, and I get to match how you look, too!" Leaning in, he planted a tender kiss on your cheek. "We look cute together~" He spoke in a sing-song voice, offering you a wink.

"I'm glad you feel that way," you said, the smile on your face reflecting your relief. You were worried that Nikolai might not enjoy this fine dining experience, given his usual preferences.

"Mhm, we should try something new again sometime soon!" Nikolai suggested enthusiastically, throwing his hands in the air. "We should plan a date in a tree! Or in a treehouse?! Have you sat on my lap while we enjoy something sweet together, what do you say?!"

His unconventional date ideas never fail to make you smile. You always found his ideas endearing- it was fun, and although at times those experiences almost made your heart leap from your chest, Nikolai always ensured your safety in the end.

"As long as you won't let me fall, I'm up for that idea," you replied.

He nodded eagerly, clearly excited. "Yes, of course! Why would I let you fall~ I'm going to hold on to you soooo tight that you don't even want to think of escaping!" He giggled and pulled you into a warm; tight embrace from behind, humming softly.

Blushing at the close proximity, you continued walking, albeit a little challenging now with Nikolai clinging onto you like this. "You know, [y/n]. We should take a taxi tonight!"

You raised an eyebrow at his unexpected suggestion. "Wait, a taxi?"

"Yes, yes! Let's go!" Nikolai let go of you and took your hand in his, pulling you slightly in his direction.

You blinked, "But my place isn't far from here, so we can use overcoat...?"

Nikolai acknowledged your response with a nod, yet his expression remains determined. "I know, I know! Buuut! We are trying new things, right? Something we haven't done before. We always use my overcoat, but tonight I want a different way of transportation." He grinned, a hint of playfulness in his heterochromatic eyes.

You thought about it for a moment, oblivious to the plan he had in mind. After a brief internal debate, you decided to agree. "Alright, alright, let's take a taxi tonight."

Nikolai's excitement for riding a taxi was unlike anything you'd seen before. His smile grew wider at your agreement, and he led you to the opposite side of the street where he signaled for a taxi.

After a few failed attempts of stopping a passing taxi, the two of you finally managed to step into one. Seated beside Nikolai, the car's interior felt cozy with the engine's gentle hum and the distant city sounds in the background. Despite the promise of a prolonged ride back home due to the traffic jam, neither of you is bothered.

As the city lights flickered through the window—unbeknownst to you, Nikolai's mischievous side came alive once again. He had his own reasons for wanting to ride a taxi with you tonight. You were gazing out the window, watching the streets you passed by, simply enjoying the view... until you suddenly felt a hand on your waist. You gasped at the sensation, surprised.

You immediately turned to face Nikolai; your cheeks turning a little red. He had employed his ability- the overcoat, to caress your waist. You reached for his hand and attempted to stop him, but he deftly evaded it. "Kolya! What are you trying to do?!" you whispered.

He lets out a soft giggle and placed a finger to his lips, urging you to remain quiet. The touch of his other hand continued, tracing feather-light patterns along your hip, sending shivers down your spine. His hand continued to trail down; making it challenging for you to keep your composure.

Nikolai knew this, but his mischievous intentions didn't stop there. He scooted even closer to you, inching his way to your side while he maintains a casual conversation with the driver. His touch grew bolder and bolder— slowly but surely getting dangerously close to your more sensitive areas.

"Stop touching me, we're inside someone's car!" You whispered again, your protest filled with embarrassment and a hint of panic. Your plea was met with a widening grin from Nikolai, rather than compliance.

The silver-haired clown took obvious pleasure in watching your reactions. He drew nearer, his lips lightly brushing against your ear. "My cutest dove, if you want me to stop, all you have to do is ask~" he purred, causing your cheeks to turn an even deeper shade of red as his fingers continued their playful assault.

With a sigh of surrender, you discreetly glanced at the driver, who seemed completely oblivious to the scene unfolding right behind him. Summoning your courage, you murmured, "Alright, Kolya... please..." Your fingers tightened their grip on his vest.

He hummed in response, and his fingers finally retreated from your thighs. He shifted his attention to the driver, his tone cheerful and innocent as if he hadn't been groping you just until moments ago. "Is it possible to take another route, good sir?"

The driver nodded and adjusted the route, taking you both on another route through the city's quieter streets. Thanks to this, it didn't take long for the two of you to arrive at your destination, your apartment. Relief washed over you as the two of you stepped out of the vehicle, your fingers interlocked with Nikolai's, walking side by side.

He then turned to you with a wicked grin. "Now that we're here, how about we continue our little tickling game?" With that sly grin on his face, you knew that the night was far from over.

You rolled your eyes in a playful manner, "That was not even close to what I'd call a 'tickling' game, Kolya." You rubbed your arm nervously, still feeling the lingering sensations from his earlier touches. Despite the embarrassment, your body yearned for more of him.

"Hahaha! Oh, that might be true… but does it really matter what I call it, [y/n]~? You seem to enjoy it!" Nikolai squeezed your hand a little tighter and led you inside.

#cw suggestive #nikolai bsd x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x you #nikolai x y/n #bsd x gender neutral reader #nikolai gogol bsd #bsd x reader #nikolai gogol x you #nikolai gogol x y/n #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x you

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weeb-polls-with-pip · 7 months

Text

Here is an updated list of competitors in need of fresh pieces of propaganda for their next round.

Remember, you can submit propaganda for any character still in the competition—these just happen to be the ones who only have 1 or 2 submissions currently, and I’d like to avoid reusing propaganda as much as I can (though I know I won’t be able to do this for everyone).

I’ll order them according to how soon propaganda is needed and bold the ones I feel are especially lacking currently.

Edit: I've crossed out characters who have since received propaganda. You can still send more for them if you'd like though. Full list and link to form are below the cut.

(Group 1 – currently competing)

Ayumu Kasuga (Azumanga Daioh)

Constanze Amalie von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger (Little Witch Academia)

Athena Cykes (Ace Attorney)

(Group 2 – will be the week after above^)

Nico Niiyama (Kiznaiver)

Nagisa Furukawa (Clannad)

Nagisa Momoe (Madoka Magica: Rebellion)

Yellow (Pokémon Adventures)

Kuriko Saiki (The Disastrous Life of Saiki K)

Himiko Yumeno (Danganronpa)

Yuuko Aioi (Nichijou)

Tsubomi Takane (Mob Psycho 100) (her current propaganda is really strong lol, but she just has the one piece)

Maya Fey (Ace Attorney)

Usagi Tsukino (Sailor Moon)

Don Quixote (Limbus Company)

Miho Nosaka (Yugioh)

Ringo Andou (Puyo Puyo)

Alluka Zoldyck (Hunter x Hunter)

Izutsumi (Dungeon Meshi)

Sorawo Kamikoshi (Otherside Picnic)

Satsuki Minazuki (Liar Satsuki Can See Death)

Anri Sonohara (Durarara!!)

Nico Yazawa (Love Live!)

Ahiru Arima/Duck (Princess Tutu)

Miriel (Fire Emblem Awakening) (also has strong current propaganda, just needs more of it)

Yuri (Doki Doki Literature Club)

Biscuit Krueger (Hunter x Hunter)

Maria Inomata (School Babysitters)

Mai Minakami (Nichijou)

Ai Mie (The Girl I Like Forgot Her Glasses)

Nausicaä (Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind)

Sumireko Usami (Touhou Project)

Shizuku Murasaki (Hunter x Hunter)

Marcille Donato (Dungeon Meshi)

Anisphia Wynn Palletia (The Magical Revolution Of The Reincarnated Princess and The Genius Young Lady)

(Group 3 – will be the week after above^)

Kaoru Seta (BanG Dream! Girls Band Party!)

Kanna Makino (Tamako Market)

Chouko Shizuhata (Oddman 11)

Hikari Kagura (Revue Starlight)

Nafra Ampsey (Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun)

Sana Futaba (Magia Record)

Valerie (Pokémon)

Akashi (The Tatami Galaxy)

Miku Hatsune (Vocaloid)

Sayaka Kanamori (Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!)

Richeh (Witch Hat Atelier)

Saki Hanajima (Fruits Basket)

Konata Izumi (Lucky Star)

Ran-Mao (Black Butler)

Tsubame Mizusaki (Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!)

Franziska von Karma (Ace Attorney) (currently has 1 piece of strong propaganda)

Nico Robin (One Piece)

Penny (Pokémon Scarlet and Violet)

Sora Kajiwara (Sketchbook: Full Color’s)

Sucy Manbavaran (Little Witch Academia)

Kiyoko Shimizu (Haikyuu!!)

Mai Mishou/Cure Egret/Cure Windy (Futari wa Pretty Cure Splash Star)

Omoharu Nakanaka (Komi Can’t Communicate)

Yor Forger (Spy x Family)

Kirie Motoba (Himouto! Umaru-chan) (currently has 1 piece of strong propaganda)

Riza Hawkeye (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Miae Hwang (After School Lessons For Unripe Apples)

Lotte Jansson (Little Witch Academia)

Bulma (Dragon Ball) (currently has 1 piece of strong propaganda)

Power (Chainsaw Man)

Tooru Taki (Natsume’s Book of Friends)

Suzuno Kamazuki/Crestia Bell (The Devil is a Part-Timer!)

Submit new propaganda below.

#autistic anime girls poll #poll propaganda #poll info #submissions #fyi

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whoreadsnowadays · 2 years

Note

Hey! I was wondering if maybe you could a do a rottmnt headcanon for all the boys (separately ofc) where maybe a year after the movie takes place a portal suddenly opens and out walks a baby turtle and turns out it's *dun dun duuuun* Y/N and the specific turtles kid. maybe they bond with the kid for a week, then future mikey comes in a portal and says that he was sick and accidentally opened the portal (or some other random excuse) and takes the kid back to their time? Sorry if its weird lmao

I'll be comepletely honest dude, I literally couldn't come up with anything except Donnie's part, I've been thinking this over for literally hours, head in hands..

Apologies but this is all I have, every penny to my name, every nickel and dime I own sire

It's 2am..

Warnings; Cussing, caps, I am almost constantly referring to the baby with things like "foul beast" /affectionate

( Romantic ) Rise ! Donnie x Gender Neutral Reader + Donnie/Reader & Unnamed Baby

Babysitting

- Donnie -

As soon as he lays eyes on the baby he's hands off, babies are foul and disgusting creatures, and he wants no part in whatever baby dimension this baby came from!

Why is it calling him dad.

WHY IS IT CALLING HIM DAD.

NONONONONONO WHY IS IT-

You, unfortunately, were entirely enamored with the foul beast. And of course, the monster felt the feeling was mutual.

So now his lab had been turned into a makeshift nursery for the parasite until you found some way to get it home.

And because he was forced to spend so much time with the thing-

(and totally not because the more he looked at it the more it grew on him)

-he begrudgingly formed a bond. It would cry, Donnie would hush it. It would scream, Donnie would gently pat its head with one of his tech arms. So on and so forth.

And one evening, out of the blue, a similar portal opened, revealing an old and disheveled Mikey.

Donnie blinked as he picked the toddler up, seeing Don in the corner of the room.

"Sorry, just passing through." He smiled, before looking down at the baby, "Say goodbye to dad!" He cooed, before floating back through the portal.

Donnie blinked.

He took a deep breath.

And he screamed.

#rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt donatello #save rottmnt #literally head in hands massive headache trying so hard to come up with something fun for each of them #Romeo Writes #its 2am ive caved and im simply writing and posting what i have and asking for your forgiveness

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vivalas-vega · 8 months

Note

Oooh my, your requests are freaking open???? I've got an idea in my head for a long time and now I give it a try and send it to you. I'm obsessed with Jake (and Bradley) x Roomie (fem reader or oc) trope, so apologies in advance for this one (also a sucker for hurt and comfort 😬). I try to keep it as short as possible: Rooster's and Hangman's new roomie has a sad past. She has sleeping issues and bad nightmares. They hear her whimpering and crying in her sleep. The guys are worried but she plays it down, feeling bad for waking them up with her shit. Maybe she starts to sleep walking and unfortunately hurts herself during this episode. The guys find her in the middle if the night hurt. And she opens up to them telling them about her dreams and her past.

ahhhh !!! I'm so glad to finally get this one posted, I'm so sorry it took so long ! I am such a sucker for the roommate trope, and I love writing stories that are strictly platonic, just focusing on lovely friendship vibes bc those are just as important as the romantic ones !!! I hope you enjoy!

(this doesn't have a title yet bc it's admittedly the thing I'm the worst at when it comes to writing fics)

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some suggestive humor, language, brief and vague mentions of death, lmk if I missed any

“Are you going to eat these leftovers?” you asked Bradley, who was sitting at the kitchen island keeping you company as you cleaned out the fridge and he stared at the tupperware container for an infuriatingly long time, contemplating his options before you let out an exasperated sigh. “Bradshaw, it’s pasta. Yes or no?”

“No,” he finally answered. “You’re in a mood.”

“No mood, it would just be nice if you could be snappier in your responses while you just watch me clean the kitchen.”

“Yeah, definitely not in a mood,” he muttered under his breath but you heard it anyway. “Do you know where Hangman is?”

“You two share a bathroom and you still can’t call him by his name?” you asked with a chuckle. “He’s at the gym, should be back soon.”

“We only share a bathroom because you got the master,” he protested and you laughed again.

“I needed the bigger closet,” you shrugged. “I told you you’re welcome to use mine anytime.”

“After you reamed me for using your face wash? Thank you, but no thank you, I haven’t been yelled at like that since I borrowed my moms car to take Cindy Daniels on a date.”

“I only yelled because you used a forty dollar cleanser as body wash and somehow managed to use half the bottle. Besides, your mom was right to yell at you too, you stole her car and you were thirteen.”

“I was covered in grease! And my date with Cindy is none of your business.”

“Are we having the face wash fight again?” Jake asked as he came in through the garage, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he reached around you to grab a bottle of water, but you only pushed him away, muttering something about keeping his sweat away from you. “Take the blame, Chicken, you wasted half a bottle of Drunk Elephant, you’re lucky she didn’t put you on the porch for the night.”

“See, the craziest thing about this whole situation is you were just as outraged as she was.”

“Good skincare is not just for women, you might want to invest in a routine of your own.” he smirked before disappearing down the hallway and you heard the sound of the shower turning on.

“You working tomorrow?” Bradley asked, getting up to wash the containers you’d placed near the sink.

You shook your head, “a Friday and Saturday off, Penny was feeling extra generous.” You’d met the two of them, along with the rest of the team, when they’d first gotten to town for the infamous and secretive mission that almost claimed the life of the man currently donning cherry-printed cleaning gloves and scrubbing pasta sauce out of tupperware. You’d all become fast friends, they’d coax you out from behind the bar on your breaks or when your shift was over for darts or pool, and when your lease was up just as they received word of a permanent assignment it seemed to make sense for the three of you to find a place together. It was a godsend for you, it got you out of your cramped apartment with dismal lighting and into a beautiful craftsman only a few blocks away from the beach. Even with arguments with Bradley about face wash and a sweaty Jake, it was a no-brainer.

“Could we convince you into coming to your place of work on a night off? These new recruits are testing our patience, Phoenix wants a fun night out to blow off steam.”

“I could potentially be persuaded,” you replied, shutting the fridge after deeming it was as cleared out as it was going to get.

“Which translates to as long as I’m not mixing them, I’ll always show up for drinks,” Jake said, walking back into the kitchen with freshly washed hair. “Do I get any kind of welcome home now that I’m not sweaty?”

“No, because now you’re wet, did you even dry off?” you asked, snapping him with a dish towel before he rounded the island and wrapped his arms around you.

“Enough,” he answered, squeezing you tight as you pretended to hate it. Really, you loved living with these two. Being on your own before was starting to take its toll on you, and they reminded you of a different time in your life, one that felt like it was ancient history. “Not to dampen the mood, but… we did want to talk to you about something.”

“Sounds serious, should I break out the house meeting wine?” you asked, eyeing them skeptically as they shared a look with each other that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“We just wanted to… check in,” Bradley started and you raised your eyebrows. “The past few weeks we’ve heard certain sounds coming from your room and-”

“Okay, first of all,-” you started to cut him off, eyes wide at what you thought he was insinuating.

“Not like that, sweetheart,” Jake interjected. “But feel free to get louder when you do,” he half-joked and you hit him with the towel again. “What bird boy is trying to say is sometimes we hear what sounds like nightmares coming from your room and it’s happened enough that we just want to check in and see if everything is okay.” You suddenly felt nauseous.

“If there’s something going on, or you need someone to talk to, you know we’re here, right?” Bradley asked and you nodded softly.

“I know, everything is fine, I’m sorry if I woke you.” you said, trying to dismiss their concerns altogether as you occupied yourself with looking over the mail.

“It’s just… it doesn’t sound fine, if you don’t want to talk to us we can help you find someone else to talk to, we just want to make sure you’re okay.” Jake tried and you gave him a forced smile.

“And I am, but I’m glad the two of you finally found something to agree on.” You tossed some junk mail in the garbage before turning to face them again, “I have some errands I want to run early tomorrow morning… text me if you need anything from the store but I’m going to turn in. Goodnight,” you said with another forced smile before heading down the hall and letting out a sigh as your back pressed against your closed bedroom door. You thought that things had gotten better… that enough time had passed. They seemed to be happening less and less, but maybe that wasn’t as true as you once thought.

Your footsteps down the hallway were an unusual sound for this time of night… nightmares or not, once you went to bed you weren’t seen until the following morning and it was enough to stir Jake from his slumber. You on the other hand, were completely unaware of what was going on, still stuck in a dream, stuck in a fluorescent lit hallway with tears streaming down your face only you weren’t… you were in your living room, walking straight into the console table and falling onto the broken glass of the picture frames and vases you’d knocked over which was enough to jolt both of them out of bed.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Bradley asked, crouching down beside you as you came to.

“Mav- Maverick?” you asked, voice hoarse as you struggled to place where you were, the images from your dream still fresh in your mind. He looked at Jake confused who was on the other side of you and carefully pushing glass aside.

“No, it’s Bradley… Honey, what happened?” You blinked a few times, finally recognizing you were on the floor of your living room and the searing pain of broken glass in your palms and knees.

“I don’t- oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you winced as you tried to stand but Jake was quick to scoop you up, holding you tight as he walked to the kitchen and carefully placed you next to the sink while Bradley grabbed the first aid kit. “I- I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m okay, you can go back to bed.” He just frowned at you and when Bradley returned he started pulling the shards from your palms while Jake worked on your knees. Silent tears were still streaming down your face and they were both trying to figure out how to ask you what was wrong, but one thing they knew for certain was no one was going back to bed until they got to the bottom of what was going on with you.

“Sweetheart, do you want to tell us what’s going on?” Jake asked softly, looking up briefly to meet your eyes before gently running his thumb along your cuts, making sure there weren’t any pieces he missed.

You shook your head as you wiped your cheeks, “nothing, I just… I don’t know, I guess I was half-asleep? I’m really sorry I woke you,” you said and they both looked at you like they didn’t believe a word of it.

“Alright, I was willing to maybe let it go before but you could have been seriously hurt tonight. Something is going on with you,” Jake said, voice firm as he stopped what he was doing to wipe a few of your tears.

“Whatever it is, you can tell us. Why did you say Maverick’s name when you woke up?” Bradley asked and you closed your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath before letting it all out.

“I uh… there’s something I never told you about me.” you started, taking a moment to breathe as you felt your throat tighten. They stayed quiet, both carefully dabbing at your cuts with a damp cloth or rubbing aquaphor over them before bandaging them. “I wasn’t a teacher before realizing I liked bartending more, I was a pilot.”

“Wait, what?” Bradley asked, shock evident in his tone and Jake elbowed him, eyes silently pleading for you to continue.

“My callsign is- or was Flash… like the superhero,” you chuckled but there wasn’t much humor in it and both of their eyes widened. “I was on a mission that went south really fast, we were outnumbered and outgunned, we ran out of resources quickly. I was hit, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t save it, I couldn’t save him.” you choked out.

“Who?” Bradley whispered, you were all cleaned up now and they were both focused solely on you. Jake was rubbing reassuring circles on your thigh as Bradley held one of your hands in his own.

“My wizzo, we called him Genie… we both got to our squad at the same time, and on our first night out his icebreaker was if you had three wishes, what would you wish for?” You laughed again, but this time it was genuine.

“I’ve heard of him,” Jake said, noticing your breathing quicken just at the mention of him. “Both of you, actually, from what I’ve heard you were a hell of a pilot.”

“He couldn’t eject, something went wrong with the handles… I’d already pulled mine when I heard him say they were stuck and the next thing I know the jet is crashing into a hillside below me. I thought the dreams were getting better, and that I was maybe starting to move past it… I don’t think I really registered that it was happening again, or maybe that it never stopped.”

“Honey, why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Bradley asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and you focused your gaze on your hands.

“I just… I didn’t want you to know that I failed my wizzo,” you choked out. “Or that the last time I was in a cockpit I nearly crashed again and Mav had to talk me through landing a plane I’ve landed thousands of times before because I panicked. I didn’t want you guys to censor yourselves when it came to work stuff out of pity for me being a failed pilot, and I guess… I just didn’t want you guys to look at me differently.”

“Hey, what happened wasn’t your fault,” Jake said, squeezing your thigh gently and prompting you to look up at him. “And we would never look at you differently for that, we understand.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that… and just know that we don’t think of you as a failure. We’ve both heard about that mission, there was nothing you could have done. Faulty equipment and being outgunned is not your burden to bear.” Bradley added, running a hand along your back.

“What is it that you say sometimes? It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot?” you asked, sadness seeping into your tone and he just pulled you into his side and pressed a kiss to your head.

“There’s not much the pilot can do if the plane fails them.”

“You went through a trauma, we would never fault you for not flying again after that.” Jake said and you smiled softly.

“Mav could… god, he tried so hard, he was really there for me after it happened, but… when I finally got back into a plane I just couldn’t shake it. It was like I could still hear him in my backseat even though he wasn’t there.”

“Just because Mav could, that doesn’t mean you’re a lesser pilot or a lesser person for not being able to, if anything I think it makes you stronger. You knew your limits, and instead of pushing through it when you couldn’t trust flying again you took a step back. I know a lot of people who wouldn’t make that same choice.” Bradley said, nudging Jake and you let out a laugh as you wiped your face again.

“Yeah, I thank my lucky stars I never crossed this one’s path when I was still flying,” you said and Jake’s face twisted up in shock.

“Hey, why are we ganging up on me now?” he asked and you laughed again.

“You make it so easy,” you teased and they both smiled, happy to see you coming back into yourself a little.

“We’re here for you, okay? So is everyone else,” Bradley said, pulling you into him again and you let yourself wrap your arms around him as you laid your head on his chest and Jake kept rubbing circles into your skin.

“No matter what, you can always come wake us up if you need someone.”

“I love you guys, you know that?”

You could hear the smirk in Jake’s voice as he said, “oh, we know.” He wrapped himself around the other side of you as the two of them squished you between them. “We love you too.”

taglist: @callsignspirit @thegodessc @failuretothrivestuff @olliepig @cruelmissdior @underaveragefangirl @grxcieluvr @amatswimming @camilaricci @nolita-fairytale @dempy @pinkpantheris @aviatorobsessed @tiredqueen73 @pono-pura-vida @binnieslove @nik2blog @waklman @abaker74 @halstead-severide-fan @percysaidnever @memeorydotcom @eli2447 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @djs8891 @Genius2050 @stargazer-88 @chloeforde @kmc1989 @casa-boiardi (if your name is struck through, it means I couldn't tag you - sorry!)

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dairyminki · 8 months

Note

elle congrats on 300!!

i'm thinkin about cooler weather at the moment; could i give you autumn with mingi for a prompt? tysm and congrats again!! <33

✨️part of my 300 milestone event 🪄

title: pumpkin spice and everything nice

pairing: song mingi x gn!reader

genre: slice of life, coffeeshop au

warning/s: none

wc: 888

a/n: hello orion!! ♡ tysm for requesting ahhhh i rlly enjoyed writing this one esp the descriptions. i hope this one is to your liking tho ><

* reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated!

—

The sky is quite gloomy as you saunter through the wet asphalt road. A mix of yellow, orange, red, and brown leaves are scattered all over, the previous downpour having them glued to the pavement.

You got quite lucky that the rain stopped when you got out of work, or else you've been stranded at your workplace with nothing but the smell of leather and the sight of your almost robotic-like coworkers surrounding you.

It's a good thing you're out of that hellhole now, and approaching a quaint coffee shop, instead.

The bell by the door jingles as you push it open, the warm and nutty aroma of coffee and sweet caramel welcomes you, beckoning you towards the counter where the barista stood donning a brown apron over his head, his hair, a striking yellow and orange ombre.

The shop was bare, and you're betting, with all of the pennies currently in your pocket, that it had been this way since earlier today and the barista himself wasn't expecting any customers anymore to suddenly pop up.

You, being that unexpected customer, offer him a small smile as you proceed towards the counter.

"Hi! May I please have one pumpkin spice latte?" You state after carefully reading through their menu.

"Anything else?"

"No, that would be all, actually."

The barista merely nods in reply, and as he starts punching buttons on the register, you can't help but stare at him. Now that you think about it, his overall fit including his hair color actually resembles the colors of autumn. A giggle slips out of your mouth all of a sudden, making the barista give you a look.

Fortunately, he doesn't comment on it and just simply hands you the receipt, saying that he'll have your drink ready in a few. And so, you went to pick your seat by the shop's glass windows.

The sky is looking a lot gloomier than before, you take note. Although, not long after you've sat down, the rain came.

The sound of the barista's movements and the whirring of the blender and espresso machine accompanies your view of the falling rain and the dropping leaves from one tree branch to another.

The scene of the colorful leaves gradually forming a carpet on the road seemingly occupied you to a great extent that it took you a while to notice someone clearing their throat.

"Uhm, excuse me?" The barista, who was now standing by your table, says, finally earning your attention.

"I've been trying to get your attention for a few minutes now but you seemed to be engrossed with whatever's outside," He says while he puts your pumpkin spice latte on the table. Embarrassed, you mutter an apology.

"Thanks. It looks pretty, by the way," You tell him with a smile after admiring the aesthetically pleasing drink in front of you.

"Thank you, please enjoy," The barista says, mirroring your smile and then off he goes back to the counter.

—

"Hi, I don't want to bother you but-"

"Oh my god, have I overstayed?" You panic, glancing at your wristwatch and finding out it's already been over an hour since you've sat down in this coffee shop, your drink perfectly empty. "I can leave now, I'm sorry. You probably have to close up already, right?"

It's not like you didn't plan to leave after finishing your drink. It's just that the rain is still pouring hard, you didn't get to bring your umbrella with you, and your house is quite far from here. You're not sure if you're ready to go out and battle it out with the ongoing wetness outside.

"Oh, no, no! I can't let you leave in this weather," The barista had the same panic lacing his voice and he's quick enough to make you take your seat once again.

"And, uh, I actually came here to ask if you'd fancy a few slices of this apple galette…" The barista rubs at his nape, giving you a sheepish smile.

For a minute you look taken aback, and just when you were about to say something, he speaks yet again, exclaiming, "This is on the house, by the way!"

"Wow, that's so…sweet of you."

"Nothing biggie, really. Just figured you'd want something to accompany you since your drink's already finished and I don't think this rain's about to stop any sooner, so," He shrugs, placing the galette in front of you. An aromatic mixture of cinnamon and baked apples wafts through the air, and it awfully smells like home, fall, and everything warm.

"What's your name?" You ask just when the barista makes an attempt to retreat into his spot at the counter.

"My name is Mingi," He answers, pausing for a little bit before he asks you the same question, quite politely.

"I'm Y/N, and if you don't mind, would you like to accompany me, Mingi? We could share these pastries while we talk or something," You say, already standing up to pull up a chair for him, because you're not one who takes no for an answer.

"Well," Mingi drags out the word while he looks down at his feet, one foot lightly tapping against the floor. "Alright, I guess there's no harm in doing that." He gives in finally, taking the additional chair from you.

"Good choice."

#mingi x reader #cromernet #k-labels #pirateeznet #Hiraya-M #ateez x reader #mingi imagines #mingi scenarios #ateez x gender neutral reader #ateez imagine #ateez scenarios #mingi x y/n #dairyminkiwrites #dairyminki_atzmg #dairyminki's 300 milestone event #m: nebulousbrainsoup #💌—dream.with.elle

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fumifooms · 1 year

Photo

The Penny x Atticus agenda was furthered in the post game and I’m so happy. I’m making this rarepair from my own two hands screenshotting every second of interaction and smashing my keyboard if I have to!

Until someone else finds a better name or something, I’ll call this ship SewnEevee shipping! Since Penny clearly has a fondness for eevee and wears that big plush backpack of hers, and one of Atticus’ main interest is sewing and clothes! You could make really cute headcanons with that too, hehe

Now, the whole “my greatest treasure” is a very obvious and intense profession of affection, but that’s with whole team Star, so. Why do I ship these two in particular? Easy, just look at the screenshots! Atticus has this formal and old-fashioned way of speaking and uses titles frequently, but lordship titles? If I’m not mistaken she’s the only person he uses lord and lady with, and it’s not a one time nickname either; he uses it for her thrice (the only times he adresses her while knowing her identity in the whole game) which suggests it is the way he’ll be referring to her from then on. Idk about you but it sounds very flattering and romantic to me, it’s not don or comrade or such else- she’s special in the way he adresses people. It’s not exactly a term for equals like comrade is, nor shows some hierarchy like calling her boss, it’s truly an honorific. And then, the first thing he says to her after discovering her identity is “you’re pretty m’lady”, like, everyone else is like, normal greetings or “wow it’s nice seeing you” (you can see the lines here) but him? He goes the extra mile to say her appearance/presence is pleasing or rejuvenating or whatever. It stood out so much in the moment I immediately started shipping them lol. Also “oh noble and kind big boss” to me sounds like an even larger amount of simping than the others’ way of talking about Cassiopeia too lol. On the other hand, you could say that Penny has an equal amount of affection and care for every team Star member, and that that affection is of the same nature for every one, but!! See the post game interaction there??! Indeed, brethren, thy eyes are not mistaken. She worries for him most!! You could say that’s not necessarily a good thing and you’d be right, but it does mean she has him on the brain and in a way she cares for him most/in a special way compared to the others. But ho, ho-ho oh no that is not all, for!!!!! She calls him handsome too!!!!!! She’s so shocked she jumps back and goes “no, focus!! He might get hurt stop looking at his pretty eyelashes!!”. Mate do you know how often they call characters pretty in Pokemon? Once in a red moon. In this game, it’s Rika, Tulip and then Atticus. Like, wow ok. They be crushing on each other highkey. I’m honestly shook at how high of a level they made it canon. Also! Penny gets three post custscenes with the other team star members, one is with Giacomo and Ortega, one with Mela and Eri, and the other one is with Atticus alone! Team Star has 5 members (Penny excluded) so of course they were going to need to cut it uneven, but still, Atticus is the one given more or less more importance here! Also!!! Atticus is the only one she doesn’t have a nickname for, she calls him by his full name!! Coincidence??! I think not! Omfg guys she breaks her nickname convention for him and he calls her his lady they’re so special to each other…

I just think they’d be good for each other, and cute together! Atticus obviously thinks highly of her and I can’t see why they wouldn’t get along swimmingly well when hanging out, especially if they share an interest like say plushies (and Penny could pirate animes for him for free and they could watch them together <3 because!! It’s mentioned that Penny likes binging them and Atticus is obvi into it, Naruto stan lol). They’re both introverted and are somewhat quiet, esp for Penny she’d enjoy his gentle and composed countenance more than the rowdier characters (which is canon esp if you look at the time they spent in Area Zero), and man. He’s so honest and direct and I think that she’d appreciate that a lot, seeming pretty blunt and no-nonsense herself. Also, he’s very capable of and confident about standing for himself and his friends, so I think once she realizes that more it’d ease her anxiety a bit. Atticus is just so gentlemanly and it’s highkey charming and idk she’s already a bit 😳 about him it wouldn’t take her much to full on pine imo. I wanna finish by saying: Some would call her judgy and mean for being worried for him bc he has an unconventional demeanor (and appearance) but I wanna reiterate that this is out of care and trauma from having been bullied herself: it’s being realistic, and she’s otherwise never shown any reluctance or dislike of his interests in the least so, there ain’t an argument to make here imo. Plus it literally got addressed and she set out to better herself on it, so.

#pokemon #team star #atticus #penny #pokemon sv #pokemon scarvi #pokemon scarlet #sewneeveeshipping #penny x atticus #atticus x penny #atticus pokemon #penny pokemon #rarepair #let the pokemon sv rarepair suffering begin #spoilers #pokemon spoilers

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geminimoonbeamx · 2 years

Text

Reality Bites: Dazed & Confused (1/6)

A/N: First chapter?! Out now?! How? It feels so surreal to finally be sharing this. Ive held this story to my chest for over a year. If you want to(and I highly suggest you do) go give Beans version a read !@allaboardthereadingrailroad, I still cant believe we did this.

Warnings: Cursing. Drug use. Heavy Smut at the end of the chapter. Fingering. Penetration. Pet names. Minors, do not interact.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Plus Sized Reader. Circa Season Three.

Summary: Sam Goody was the perfect job for the summer; inside the shiny new mall, your best friends a co-worker, and free music? What was not to love. That was until Steve Harrington got a job on ground floor at Scoops and flipped your “perfect summer”upside down.

Chapter One: Opening Time Down on Fascination Street

You smoke too much weed.

It’s a sentiment you’ve found yourself reflecting on lots of times. In English class last year when you were so high that you could barely remember the plot of Hamlet. At work, last week at work when a group of beyond annoying freshmen had plowed in; you’d had dozens of records to sort in their wake, and it had all been like a mahjong fever dream.

You'd never been so high that you couldn't function, your adventures in ganja land were all pretty tame- never leaning into psychedelic darkness or any of that other bad trip shit other people talked about.

Until last week.

No. Your brain rejected the memory that desperately tried to peek from behind the curtain of your subconscious.

No. No. You smoke too much weed. You and Bean were stoned.

It was a dog.

A dog that had left a dent the size of a fucking person on your hood. You flinch at the thought. Of both the dog you'd hit, and the damage to your car.

It was a just a stray dog. Or some assholes runaway….

A dog with no fur. Reptilian, and monstrous.

You choke on the memory- or maybe that’s the doobie you’d found under your seat.

When you can string together two breaths; you use the reprieve to reapply lip gloss and wipe your at your eyeliner because priorities. You cant stroll into work looking high, or ugly. Neither were viable options, obviously.

After desperate gulp of the stale sprite that’s been sitting in the cup holder for days, you’re out of the car.

Hopefully the floral-y Chloe that you’d drenched yourself in an hour ago somehow manages to mask the skunk smell that you know tends to cling to the woven fabric of your work Polo.

You pop a piece of gum and slide on a pair of aviators, contingencies.

The parking lot of Star Court is pretty tame- if you consider tame 50 cars deep. Before noon.

Ever since the Mall had opened its doors; they never seemed to close. It had become the place to be, a plethora of never ending activity’s and the residents of Hawkins we’re proverbial deer in the headlights. Or front grills- however you choose to look at it.

You’re just happy you’d scored a spot that wasn't a hike to the mouth of the food court.

Your feet phantom ache just thinking about the evening shift you’d worked a couple days ago.

Parking near the east entrance had it’s perks. The lot was always easier(since everyone wanted to hit JC Pennys and the Theater from the main) on this side.

And if the path happened to take you by a certain Ice Cream parlor, well. That was just an added bonus.

Making a work uniform look good is a feat. One even you don't think you quite clear. Half of your hair is pulled up high, hours of labor keeping it both straight and voluminous, and the sugar pink gloss you don is sparkly in the fluorescent plaza lights.

There’s nothing you can do about the uniform making you look like your body shape is Maytag Double Wide, though.

Your manager is a Nazi who refused to hear any complaints about the heinous sizing of the Polos. It wouldn't really be that expensive to get them tailored.

Ring corporate, call it a company expense.

Whatever, it's temporary. After summer…you'll figure that out come August. You wouldn't be stuck working in a Record shop for the rest of your life. Right?- God maybe you really should stop smoking, or like take a tolerance break because when did you get so paranoid?

Theres one place in the mall that you always get your jollies off; a sugar high and a show is always in store.

Steve Harrington had been Hawkins High’s superstar. There wasn't a sport he didn't play and you’d witnessed him in all of his various Jersey Glory for the four years of public high school-

So seeing him dressed in the fluorescent blue and red striped sailor get up that Scoops Ahoy required of him never failed to fuck your brain.

Aw, how the mighty had fallen. Hard.

You could barely take him seriously on any given day, but when he was wearing a glorified Dollar Mart Halloween costume? Well, if you cracked up every time you looked at him, who could blame you?

He’s standing at the front of the store, surprisingly not surrounded by either girls or his usual group of 8th graders. Both as odd as the other.

His arms are crossed over his chest and he seems to be contemplating something. Are there any thoughts in that pretty head other than what hair gel he should buy next?

When he notices you making your way to the escalator he perks up a bit.

“Good morning, Y/N” He greets with that grin. That charming grin- the panty dropper, so infamously named. You’d never been on the receiving end of it back in school but now he flashes it at you whenever he gets the chance.

You have to say, the sailor hat atop his fluffy head kind of dims its power.

Your traitorous stomach flutters in protests at that statement.

“Mmm, it’s nearly noon but good morning” Being casually uninterested is definitely harder to accomplish then Cosmo makes it out to be. “You seem totally spaced. Did the Junior Varsity squad decide not to come pay you your weekly visit?”

Instead of being offended, as usual, the snark just makes his grin widen. It’s so annoying.

Steve is unshakeable.

Unbotherable.

No matter how bitchy you get, how dismissive and annoyed you appear he just takes it all in stride.

“No, actually that’s scheduled for Wednesday’s, you cheerleaders are always very timely. Guess I gotta thank Coach Ross for those tardy drills”

“For one; Former cheerleader” you interject feeling a little too exposed by his teasing gaze “two; if it isn’t a lack of Pom poms that has you looking like- that. Then what is it?”

“What is what exactly?” He shoots back, the glint in his eyes telling you that he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You know what, what is” You deadpan, not wanting to play into his game.

“No, please, elaborate”

God. You seriously have to muster every ounce of fucking maturity you have with this guy. It’s always like this when you talk to him. Rapid fire, back and forth. It feels chaotic and borderline childish.

You take a deep breath and force yourself not audibly groan at him.

“Steven, Why do you look like someone ran over your dog” you hope it wasn’t you- the other day. In the woods.

Does Steve even have a dog? Your conversations never last that long.

He chuckles and quirks his mouth, “I’m fine”

One manicured eyebrow raises and you push your sunglasses up into your hairline so that you can really assess him.

He’s kind of a horrible liar.

You’ve learned during the duration of the warm summery months. During the time that both of you had been employed at Starcourt. He was an itch you couldn’t scratch, a pebble in your shoe and some how some way the two of you always ended up bumping into each other.

The universe a pinball machine and you a simple sphere, constantly bumping and clashing into Steve’s presence at every turn. It was jarring. And loud. And you hadn’t quite found the angle or velocity that would keep your path Harrington free.

Eventually you’d get it though.

“Riiiiight. No seriously what happened? Did another kid puke up their Rocky Road- or worse” you mock gasp before going on “did Sally’s run out of Aquanet?”

“You’re a real dick, you know that” Steve shakes his head- not appearing any less amused. His brown eyes interested. Looking at you in a way that they never had before the summer.

It still makes you want to retreat. Head for the fort. Red flags, millions of them, might as well cover him from head to toe.

He shouldn’t look at you like that while calling you a dick.

He should look at you like that at all.

“If you must know- a friend of mine is going away for the summer and it just sucks, okay” He finally admits, the genuine disappointment apparent in his tone.

You open your mouth, to console him. Maybe. Probably.

What comes out instead is a small snort as puzzle pieces interlock in your head.

“Wait, you mean Dustin, huh?”

Dustin, your next door neighbor.

The dorky curly headed thirteen year old boy that seemed to be Steve’s best friend as of late. Steve was at the Henderson’s at least once a week and Dustin and his group of friends were at the Ice Cream shop once a day.

It was kind of cute, in the very weirdest way.

“Yeah, so?” Steve’s trying so hard to be nonchalant and you’re trying so hard not to bust out in laughter. “He’s a cool kid- and he was helping me with college essays, get an early jump on next year is the plan”

His ego can spare the lashing, I mean look at him. You’ll berate him later.

Dustin is a decently cool kid who you knew had gotten teased pretty mercilessly when he was younger for his teeth, or lack there of. You kind of appreciated that Steve was nice to him and didn’t bully him, which for the former jock, was a new theme.

“He’s going to be gone a month. I’m sure you can learn to live without him- and for your essays they’re really not that hard”

“Oh yeah? You breezed through yours, huh?” Steve looks interested, impressed maybe.

Or maybe he’s just bored.

“Yup” you lie. You hadn’t sent one in since before graduation. And even then, procrastination has slammed you sideways. There were no acceptance letters waiting for you.

“Well maybe you could help me with mine? If you had time we could like, meetup. I mean obviously not here. At the mall. Where were both employed-“

How did this guy score the masses of pussy he had, back in high school?

But most importantly, what was he trying to do here? Hanging out, outside of the walls of the mall? What- like a date?

No, your brain supplies. He’d never…

And if he did, it would have to be a part of some kind of joke. King Steve would never be caught asking a fat girl out. Que laughter and thrown tomatoes. Tommy H peeking from behind a puller with a camcorder

“Hard pass” you interject, quick and blunt “But good luck on your essays. See you later, Steve”

And with a very awkward half wave between the two of you, you’re off- the escalator carrying you up and away from the unwanted scenario.

If only you had an escalator for all of your issues.

You’re thinking about that very sentiment later in the day, five hours into your shift and 3/4ths through your sanity.

If you had to clean up after people’s kids one. More. Time. You were going to scream.

“Who brings kids into a record store anyway” You snark, having to put stacks of cassettes back in their proper home “Not to be a bitch, but I really wish forced sterilization was a thing”

Bean chuckles from her place behind the counter. The store had been pretty on and off- a normal Thursday.

“I’m pretty sure you very much do mean to be a bitch”

“I’m pretty sure those motherfuckers should legally not be allowed to have more children” that family of six had destroyed the whole kids aisle.

Another thing you protested. Why should we have to have a kids' aisle? You wanted to collect all the He Man TV Soundtack’s and throw them in the dumpster.

When you’re finished, you meet her behind the counter. It’s technically the two of you guys’ break but we’ll since the store was empty you didn’t see a reason to go navigate the steadily filling mall.

And Bean? Her head was buried in a book, the top of her dark hair visible as her eyes were plastered to the pages. It wasn’t an uncommon sight. Like at all. Bean was a Bonafide Nerd with a capital N and you kind of loved her for it.

What was uncommon though was her particular choice of reading material.

‘The Unidentified and Creatures of the Outer Edge: A Collection of Accounts by Edward J Rupplet’

The title is in bold silver letters. You bite the inside of your lip hard as you gloss over it.

Grabbing Strawberry Banana Orange Julius she had grabbed you on her lunch run, you plop down on the swivel chair behind the counter.

“Doing a little light reading?” You inquire as you stir at the thick smoothie with the straw. Voice strong- void of any of the anxiety you feel about her fascination with the subject.

Or at least you hope it is.

“Did you know that Indiana’s a hub for unidentifiable activity- that in the last fifteen years there’s been a surge in all kind of sightings around the state but especially around Roane County” she chatters a mile a minute.

The way she always does when that brain of hers is working faster then her mouth can.

“No I didn’t know that. Nor did I want to but thanks”

Bean looks up then “You can’t tell me that you still think we hit a dog”

“We did”

“The dent on your hood is the size of TV”

“A Great Dane then”

….”You know the brain does this thing with trauma, like universally, when an event is too traumatic for us to handle the brain process it through-“ Bean starts, slowly, dark eyes meeting yours over the lip of her book.

“The stages of Seven Stages of Grief. Yeah, I know”

“Well did you know that Denial is the first one?”

You give your friend a sharp glare.

“The only thing I’m in denial about is having to fix my fucked up hood. Uncle Elliots making me pay for it all by my self. Its going to be 200 dollars! How bogus is that!”

Bean gives you a look- one that says “I call you out on your bullshit”, without actually calling you out on your bullshit.

And continues to let you play it off.

As a good friend does.

Saturday, Summer 1985

You scan the note held to the fridge with a strawberry magnet.

In the city for the weekend, left money in the office. No take out!

Fix your car, lovey- or else I’ll let Hop write that ticket.

Kisses, Uncle Eliot

Your surgeon of an Uncle is out of town at least once every couple months. Confrences. Conventions- that’s lost to you. He always comes back from Indianapolis cherry as can be- and with gifts so it like, works.

The house is too quiet in his absence. It used to bother you, when you were younger, unacclimated. You don’t mind it anymore, being alone. The silence still sucks. But-

Watching TV at a mind numbing decimal will fix that.

There's a soft chirruping meow as Bowie, your big ragdoll tabby, hops up on the counter beside you.

“It’s me and you, baby. As usual” You kiss his wet little pink nose, and scoop him up, ignoring his indignant squawk as you cradle I’m to your chest, holding him like a newborn you trek down the stairs, ready to turn on something soapy.

It's your own fault that you're doing nothing but rotting away in the house on a perfectly good Saturday night.

Heather had called, inviting you to some afterhours thing they were doing at the pool. She was totally going to get fired if they got caught and her dad was going to rip her a new one- you reminded her of that fact,

But like, all the lifeguards were going. Which meant Billy would be there, so she had to be, too. Duh.

Ugh, you would never get the appeal. Billy Hargrove was so microwaved white trash. Half baked Motley Crue- at least Tommy Lee could actually pull off the mullet. You didn't get the hypefest around him.

“I guess” You try to be supportive, but the level of unimpressed you are is unmaskable.

“You guess? God, what's been up with you lately? This is the last summer before everyone goes off to school! I mean Tracys leaving for ASU in three weeks! This is one of the last times we’ll be able to get the squad together”

She's so excited for the fall, they all are. All of your friends dispersing like confetti around the country for school.

It makes your stomach churn.

Heathers words are sharper than she intended for them to be, and even hours later they are echoing heavily around your head. You can't let them go. Because by the end of the summer Tracy will be in Alabama. And Heather off to Pennsylvania.

Even Bean would be leaving, you comfort yourself with the fact that she’d still technically be in the state but fuck. She’d become something like your best friend since that faithful AP Lit class, and the impending countdown to her departure was ever present. Even if the two of you smoked yourselves silly, as you normally did, it still came up.

Her leaving. You’re staying.

And that damn dog!

Becoming one with the sofa while battling intrusive thoughts is not it.

You need to work through your chores, and honestly, you’d rather deal with shoveling out cat shit then shoveling out the hundreds of dollars that it will take to fix your car.

Both of which Uncle Elliot was expecting to be done by the time he gets home.

You’re shuffling down to the end of the driveway, a heavy trash bag swinging to and through as you bop along down the path. After threatening Bowie, emptily of course, that he was going to live in the garage from here on out, with his stinky ass.

It's hot and sticky; the Indiana summer not loosening its grip anytime soon and the tank top and shorts combo you don does nothing to keep you cool. You love first world amenities, and all you want to do is get back inside before you end up having to take a second shower and or be covered in mosquito bites.

The night is still, like most are in Hawkins. The stars bright and clear, no clouds in sight. The chance of precipitation slim to none, as the weatherman had cheerfully announced on the night time news report.

You try not to be scared, because you're a grown woman. Freshly eighteen, but eighteen nonetheless since the end of May. Grownups aren’t scared to walk down their stupidly long drive way.

Grownups don't get so high that they hallucinate monsters shaped like dogs, and if they do then they're grown up enough to know that it was just a figure of their imagination.

Why did your street have to be so dark? One of the few streetlamps had gone out in February. And still zilch. Shouldn't the city do something about this? Parks & Recs? The Zoning Committee?

You're wondering where exactly your tax dollars go as you lift the lid of the pail, swinging the bag-

It all happens in slow motion, but in the flash of an eye:

There’s a bang from across the street, and well- you’ve been jumpier than usual lately. Unfortunately for you, the curb decides it would like to stomp you. You end up flat on your ass, but not before your kneecap meets rough concrete.

“Mother fucker” You curse loudly, more confused then anything. Your equilibrium thrown off by the sudden fall.

“Oh shit- Y/N, are you okay?” The voice is deep and familiar and oh god. Why you?

What kind of karmic retribution had you been sent on this earth to repay?

And why couldn't the earth open up and swallow you, right now. Right at this very moment?

“Steve?”

Is all you can brilliantly come up with as the jean clad figure comes closer, out of the darkness. He’d dropped- is that a fence panel?- by his car, which was parked in front of the Hendersons.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you-” His hands are flaying the tiniest bit as he goes to lean down.

“Are you stalking me? What the hell are you doing here?” You cut him off quickly, scooting away a bit, then hissing when your knee stings. Of course youre bleeding, the skinning minimal, but deep enough that crimson rears up.

“Hey, chill out for a second- I’m not stalking you, I was finishing helping Miss Henderson do some cleaning up in her backyard and- you know what, I actually don't need to explain myself to you. What are you doing out here and why did you just use your driveway as a trampoline?” ugh god, why? Driveway as a trampoline? You’ll never recover.

You groan and fight the urge to bury your burning face in your hands. He’s just about the last person you’d ever want to see you literally ass down.

“Y/N? Did you bang your head or something?”

You're examining your bended knee, and no, it’s not bad at all. A little anti-bacterial and you’ll be fine. You need hydrogen peroxide for your soul right now, an ego cleansing, if you will.

“No, just my knee. I’m fine, stop Steve-” You slap his hand away as its extended to you, but he's a persistent little shit and just grabs your forearm instead “I’m fine”

“Cool. You’re fine. Can you not be difficult for like, a nanosecond and let me help you up so we can see if you really hurt yourself or not?”

“I just fell” You insist, because he’s being dramatic and you don't need him to mother hen you. Like ever.

“Yeah, and Robbie Cohen broke his ankle just falling during practice last year. Get up and put some weight on it so we can see if you really hurt yourself or not” he still hasn't let go of your arm and you know he would, if you really pressed the issue.

You should press the issue.

Instead, you sigh and hold your other hand out. Arms held out in a pathetic grabby motion.

The bastard has the nerve to chuckle about it.

You let him pick you up off the ground, and although he’s surprisingly strong, you refuse to allow him to take all of your weight. Absolutely not.

“Do you even know what a nanosecond is?” you insult him once you're standing, feeling defensive as he assesses your bare leg.

“Yeah, like a super second, right?” He’s kidding. Maybe? Before he tells you to step down on your right foot, balancing your weight on both legs. You dont scream out in pain, your knee doesn't buckle. Just like you thought, it's just a scrape. Probably not even deep enough to scar, but there is blood dripping slow down your leg.

“I think you're okay, but you should probably clean it up. I could help, if you need it. I know some gir-people are squeamish when it comes to blood” He catches himself on that girl comment, fumbling through it a bit, but in a weirdly pleasant way.

“My uncles a surgeon” You deadpan.

“Oh yeah, uh, I do remember that. My mom, her gallbladder, surgery you know” He nods, biting the inside of his bottom lip as though thinking pensively “I could still help you…if you wanted me to.”

It was a perfectly good Saturday night that you were wasting…

What it wasn’t supposed to include was Steve Harrington but well?

Universe; pinball machine. You: a tiny sphere at its mercy.

There’s a few sights you never thought you’d see,

Steve Harrington man spread on the round, mustard colored couch in your living room is one of them. It's such an odd sight that your eyes almost can't focus on it.

It’s either that or the glass of wine you're nursing.

There hadn't been much cleaning up to do, for your fucking scrape. But Steve had insisted you sit down at the kitchen table and let him play doctor. Neosporin and all, you’d had to will yourself to sit still as he touched you, finger tips grazing over bare skin.

Its just your knee for fucks sake. Just a knee- you'd repeated like a mantra. Acquaintances touch each others knees all the time. It’s fine. You don't even like Steve. He’s barely even an acquaintance.

You donned a Care Bear Band-Aid for your troubles, and a glass of wine, or two, for your nerves.

You’d been raiding Uncle Elliot’s liquor cabinet for years, and as long as you never finished anything off, he was pretty cool about it. You didn't dare touch the top shelf.

“It’s really 70’s in here, like…a time capsule” Steve observes, his own wine glass mostly empty in his hand. Another refill needed “But not in a bad way”

“Fabulous, right? My uncle still thinks he’s the dancing queen” He sniggers at that, taking another gulp “But he has this weird fear of second stores, so he, uh actually gets new furniture like reupholstered to look older”

“Ah,” Steve confirms “so it runs in the family”

“What runs in the family, asshole?” You turn on the couch, criss-cross applesauce, thick thighs on display because fuck it, there was no point in hiding them from him.

“How particular you are” he makes a broad gesture with his hands. At you. It makes you feel…seen. And you do not like it.

“What do you mean by that?” You glare, eyes focused in on him, his Adam's apple bobs.

“Don't get touchy, I just mean you are really picky. Like hair trigger picky”

“And you know that how? Because were friends?” The laugh you let out is cold, a mimic you’d picked up from Bean “Best friends? Since when? Never.”

“Bullshit, yeah, we aren’t best friends. But were friendly. We had all the same friends in school, we’ve been running in the same circle since we were thirteen”

Now you full on laugh because all of that hair spray he uses has to be affecting his brain. Clogged hair particles must lead to like brainwave malfunction.

“No Steve, we had friends of friends in High School- and any time before that you ran with Tommy H and all those other douche bags. I can assure you, you were not my friend. Like, at all”

You hate talking about it, acknowledging that there was a period of your life, before you’d learned to adapt, where you’d stuck out like a sore thumb. And where Steve and his friends had made you feel that difference. That distance from everyone else.

He’d bullied you, simple as that.

And he knew it.

It’s why at he couldn’t look you in the eye when the subject was brought up, why he palmed the back of his hot neck awkwardly and fisted the stem of the wine glass way too tight.

“Look Y/N, when we were kids. It was all so different and-“

“It’s fine Harrington, just stop” you snort because as much as you love to see him grovel, you can’t bear to hear him apologize. It literally makes you feel like you’re going to be sick, embarrassment makes your mouth water threateningly. “We’re adults now, it’s water under the bridge”

You do not and will not ever accept his pity, or his apologies.

“Yeah, right” he mutters as he takes a swig of his wine- and then looks at it and decides to down it all.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been trying to be friends with you all summer. Since I found out you were working at Starcourt, too. It’s nice to have a familiar face around, you know? I don’t- I see the old group, run the rounds. Sometimes. But after I stopped talking to Tommy and we all graduated shit got weird” Steve explains, kind of. In pieces.

He’s the most obvious puzzle.

You don’t say anything because you get it. Shit got weird. That phone call with Heather earlier was weird.

You grab the bottle and top yourself off- Steve let’s you do the same to his glass.

“Shit has indeed gotten weird” you agree, “King Steve, hanging out with little ol’ me. We must be living in an alternate dimension”

He half chokes on his drink. “Stranger things have happened”

“Yeah fucking tell me about it”

“Keep getting me liquored up and you just might get lucky” He. Is. So. Cheesy. Good god.

This can’t be the same Steve that caused a full on riot brawl in the girls locker room.

“How’d you get so much pussy back in school with pick up lines like those?” You’re just on the right side of wine tipsy. The liquor makes you bold, makes you feel sexy and daring.

It also makes you want to kiss, but that part you can ignore.

Steve smiles, obviously entertained “You think I’m trying to pick you up? That’s a little presumptuous of you”

You want to tell him to spell presumptuous.

“Are you telling me you’re not?” You inquire instead.

He could say no. It’s a possibility. Maybe you’ve been reading this whole thing completely wrong. Maybe he’s really just been trying to make amends-

Or maybe he’s been looking down your top for the last half hour. You can’t say you blame him, the low cut coral tank top did make your tits look grade A.

Steve bites his lips a lot, when he’s nervous. When he’s turned on. Bright and cherry red and distracting.

“If I say yes are you gonna be a dick to me about it?”

You giggle, roll your eyes and scoot closer, leaning on your arms, your cleavage artfully on full display. “Probably”

“Then no, I’m not trying to pick you up” Steve protests, weakly. His gaze flicking fast between your face and your chest

Oh. He can not be this easy.

“My mistake” you shrug feigning casual. Well you hope. “I must’ve read the signals wrong”

You both know that was not the case.

The room is charged now, the energy thick and electric. Steve’s eyes haven’t left yours, fawn brown and searching. Like he’s trying to find a crack, some way in.

“You’ve really got this whole hot and cold thing down pat, hmm? On my break the other day you literally slammed your car door in my face-“

“You’re exaggerating”

“And now you’re being kinda slutty for me, Y/L/N” Steve informs you and it should not make your stomach lurch the way it does.

“I am not!” You protest, hating that word. Hating the way he’d said it. Hating the fact that you really, really want to jump his fucking bones.

“You are- it’s okay. I dig it. I know you can’t resist the Steve. Most women can’t” the words coupled with the tone on his voice sends you into a fit of laughter.

You can’t stand him, really. He’s so corny. He’s so annoying.

He is the worst most charming jerk you’ve ever met. The wine just makes it more apparent.

“For one you date girls not women Steve, shut up. And two, you said it yourself, you’re not trying to pick me up so it doesn’t really mat-“

You see it coming from a mile away.

All guys get that look, that really intense, almost scary one.

The one that means one thing.

Steve doesn’t lean in slow, doesn’t lead you into it at a snail's pace. One second he’s watching your lips move and in the next he’s abruptly covering them with his own.

Stealing the words from your mouth and the air from your lungs.

Your world tilts sideways.

It would be a bold face lie, to say you’d never imagined kissing Steve. Everyone in Hawkins has had fantasies about kissing Steve Harrington at least once.

The reality of it felt weightless and far away, down at the bottom of the discarded wine bottle on the coffee table.

He tastes warm, liquor sharp and flesh sweet, as you suck at his bottom lip.

Steve kisses like he’d played sports, confident of himself. Practiced almost, and yeah you bet he has had practice. Tons of it, His hands aren’t as sure as his mouth though, your body new. Uncharted territory. They hesitantly rest on your leg as he leans over you, inching upwards towards your chubby waist.

You bite his lip, hard, harder than you meant to when his hands get a little too close to going under your shirt.

He hisses, pulling away, tongue flicking over his bottom lip “No?”

“You first” you insist,

“Yeah?”

Your chest is pounding, blood rising in your ears and making it hard to think. You still know one thing though, you’re not showing him your body, yet. You’re not going to be vulnerable, first. “Yeah”

He just nods, yanking off his gray t-shirt, before leaning back down and kissing you until you’re dizzy, your fingers threaded in his thick hair, his thin hips snug between your thighs. It's humid between the two of you as your hands wander, cling, grope.

Every breath you take is of Steve and it’s stifling.

You whine, small and shakily as you pull away- the sound turning into a wet gasp as he kisses your face; nose, cheek, soft jaw and lands on your neck. Fingernails, Barbie pink, dig into his shoulder blades, all bare freckled skin when he mouths the tender skin, his teeth at play in a way that could make your eyes cross.

“Steve” you moan, as his mouth goes for your chest, you tugging at his hair not derailing him from completely ruining your tank top, wet with spit as he suckles on your clothed nipples single mindedly.

Can he not feel that you guys are about to lose your balance?

“Steve! Stop for a sec We’re about to fall, jackass” you warn him and he huffs, right into your cleavage before straightening up on his knees, both of you maneuvering for purchase on the couch. The tent in his jeans glaringly apparent.

“Wanna take this to your room?” He offers and really it’s smart. Your bed would be easier…

That also feels a lot more intimate and you can’t remember what you’d left out in your room. What hidden secrets were just chilling, waiting to be found.

“MmMhmm, I want to stay right here” you tell him, your hand tracing down his chest in what you think is a distracting manner. Steve nods, obviously game for whatever you’re willing to give.

“Wait” you still him with that same hand when he begins to lean back down.

He’s so…nice about it. Doesn’t protest when you say wait even though he looks like there’s nothing he wants to do less then stop. He doesn’t make you feel shitty or pressured, at least not in this moment. It’s weird. But you appreciate it.

You reach down to grab the ends of your top and wiggle yourself out of it, Steve helping when he realizes you’re going to have a little trouble getting it off while underneath him.

It’s scary, always, letting someone see you. A nervous, semi manic giggle trapped in your throat as he looks you over in the dim yellowish lighting emitting the standing lamp in the corner. You should’ve turned it off. You should get up and turn it the fuck off-

“Damn” he whispers, even though it’s just you two and an empty house.

The giggle breaks break free, your boobs giving a very gratuitous jiggle that has him making a sound, a throaty one as he buries his head between them.

“You enjoying yourself, Harrington?”

“Very much” he doesn’t pull up to reply.

You know the kinds of girls he’s dated- you don’t look like Cheryl or Laurie, and you sure as shit doesn’t look like Nancy Wheeler- but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. If anything he’s having a fucking hay day right now, his mouth and hands digging into your flesh.

You’re so soft all over, he can’t help but squeeze.

It’s a little blurry after that. From the wine and the hormones both. He pulls your shorts and panties off in one go- there goes his jeans. Flesh on flesh, so much friction it feels like it might start throwing sparks.

You’re shaking, pinned down underneath him with three of his long fingers buried inside of you when you’re able to put words to thought.

“Condom” you demand, voice going high as his hand pistons between your legs, his finger tips curling in a way that has you both arching towards him and shifting away from him because holy fuck that hurts so good.

“I don’t- shit, I think I have one in my car. You don’t have any?” His hand stills and you try to catch your breath, wracking your brain for something right now, which is pretty fucking hard with Steve knuckle deep.

You've got nothing. You hadn’t hooked up with anyone since before graduation.

“I don’t…” you whisper, shaking your head, bottom lip pursed.

His fingers slip from you with a squelch that isn’t as sexy when your moans aren’t an octave higher. And he huffs, exaggeratedly, before pecking you and hopping off the couch.

Its a- sight. Butt naked, dick bobbing. He's such a beanpole, but he’s hand to god hung down to his knee. Biting your cheek you try to determine whether you think that's hot or hilarious. A bit of both.

“You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute” Steve grumbles as he shimmy’s clumsily into his jeans, and only his jeans.

“You’re lucky I’m so cute!” You holler after him as he all but jogs up the stairs and out the front door, a man on a mission.

Its a quick interlude- not even a full two minutes but it gives you enough time to run to the lamp. The shroud of darkness comforting, easing the awkwardness that was steadily building. With Steve out of the house and you left inside, naked, you're really starting to reevaluate things.

Yanking a throw blanket from the armchair, you wrap yourself in it before plopping back down on the sofa.

Steve Harrington is outside getting a condom.

Oh my god, is this real life?

You wish you could call Bean.

Your brain’s going a mile a minute as you stare at the dark ceiling when you hear the front door open.

It’s dark, but not pitch. Your eyes have adjusted enough that you can see him, bare chested a little out of breath because of what must have been a sprint to his BMW.

“Ow, fuck- Y/N?” Steve stumbles over a piece of furniture with a clatter, not familiar with your home’s lay.

“Come here before you break something” you urge, reaching out and tugging on him once your fingers link.

“What, like my head?” His knees hit the couch and he's going for his fly.

“No, something more valuable. Like a vase” it should sound more malicious, on any other given day it would, but right now you just can't muster it. Not when he’s taking off his jeans, not when he's back to hovering over you. How are his eyes more intense in the dark?

“You okay?” He asks, like he cares. Your chest pulls something tight, an artery block or something. Maybe your uncle was right about eating pizza.

You nod fast, humming a sound of agreement.

Steves gently as he pries the throw blanket away from your body “Yeah, you sure? About this?”

“I’m sure- i-if you are, I mean” fuck, its so uncomfortable. These moments before always are.

“I'm sure” his voice is so much steadier than yours. Asshole. You yank him down, hard, by the back of the neck.

Its lips and tongue then, teeth and shivering flesh. The furnace between the two of you cranked back up to a hundred as you perch your knees high around his waist, as he settles back into making you squirm, hooking you on the ends of his fingers, and then quickly switching to fast strokes of your clit until you- oh fuck you’re not going to, are you?

You come with a shocked whine, your core clenching something piercing and good and holy fuck you can barely believe it.

Most men can't even find your clit, much less make you come. It’s always a fumbling experience, where you end up getting yourself off for them. The fact that Steve had gotten it, on his own, on the first go?

This can not be real.

“You good, baby? That feel good?” He mutters in your ear.

Baby? What is life? Like seriously, what is this?

You feel shaky and out of it now, and if you grab his free hand and make him hold yours, you’ll blame it on the endorphins later. You need a tether.

“Y-yeah, fuck, are you going to put on that condom or not?” he thinks its funny, the way you can barley talk but still manage to be a smartass. You think it's annoying, how fondly he's looking at you.

You have to get that look off of his face, kissing him’s a good of method as any.

Steve’s still a teenage boy, one who can make you come, but still. Nineteen. He jabs in a little too hard, hits an angle inside of you that makes you gasp with pain, that makes the two of your bodies go into limbo, a hard attempt at figuring out just how you fit together,

“There?”

“A little to the left, yeah”

“There?” he asks again and you can't stop grinning because maybe he's not good at everything. Maybe King Steve isn't the pussy pleaser everyone thought him to be,

He gains his bearings then, straightening out and thrusting just right as his hand goes back between your still throbbing legs, tracing where your bodies meet and the almost inhumane sound that tears itself from your throat cant even begin to cover how fucking. Good. It. Feels. So. Good.

You didn’t expect to spend your perfectly good, Saturday night hanging off Steve Harrington's dick. But you can't say you regret it, not when he's moaning your name in your ear.

Come Monday morning, you make your usual trek to work, through the parking lot and the food court.

You don't stop when the neon sign of Scoops Ahoy comes into view. When Steve gives you a hopeful grin from behind the ice cream counter.

It’s easy to pretend you don't see it and continue on up to Sam’s, the escalator your forever savior.

You're good at pretending.

Hope you enjoyed this monster of an intro chapter! Taglist is Open! But please be ready to leave some feedback if you’d like a tag.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x plus #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington imagines

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