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hgfictionwriter · 4 months

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Finally

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's been in love with you for years and she finally gets to call you hers.

Warning: Smut. A lot of smut. And it's long - I got carried away!

“We probably shouldn’t do anything,” you whispered in a heady voice between kisses. You were supposed to go out for the evening on a date together, but here you were, straddling her on her couch, her hands wandering across your lower back as your hips bucked involuntarily against her. “I mean, we just started seeing other.”

“Yeah,” she breathed against your lips as she leaned back in to kiss you hungrily. You were very aware of how her hips were grinding up to meet yours as you continued to kiss.

She dipped her head down and began kissing the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and nibbling, her body stiffening as your grip on her shoulders tightened with a slight gasp.

“But you feel so good,” you said in surrender as you tilted your head back to give her more space and invite her in. You gasped again as she moaned into your neck and ground her hips up into you with greater force. “Oh fuck, Jess,” you breathed.

“Y/n.” Jessie said as she dug her nails into your back through your shirt, pulling you down into her. She shook her head subtly as she murmured against your skin. “You better tell me now if you want to stop.” She inhaled sharply, her chest rising against yours before she nuzzled her face into your neck once more. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to stop if we keep going.”

You felt a tight, coiling sensation between your legs at her words and you had to stop yourself from moaning out loud. Instead you ground your hips against her muscular thighs once more and ran your fingers through her hair. “Fuck. Don’t stop.” You told her, and she pulled back momentarily to look at you. You met her stare and began rubbing your fingers up and down the back of her neck. “You know - when I used to come over and we'd watch TV together, it was impossible at times to focus on what we were watching because I was so busy thinking about how much I wanted to be right here, on your lap with your arms around me. I want you.”

It was like a switch flipped and her eyes immediately darkened and she rushed forward, her lips crashing roughly into yours as she pulled you closer. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” she breathed as her hands roamed under your shirt before peeling it off over your head. The second the garment was off your body, she dove back in to begin kissing hungrily down your chest.

A moan escaped your mouth, but you found the ability to sit back and place your hands on her shoulders, pushing her back into the couch. “You too,” you demanded as your hands drifted down to grasp the hem of her shirt. She smirked up at you as she grabbed her shirt and helped you pull it over her head.

You leaned back, her hands supporting you as you reclined and took in the sight before you. You bit your lower lip as you admired her toned abs and her defined arms - the muscles flexed as she held you steady. Though she still gave you a cocky smirk, you noted a greater tinge of pink creep into her cheeks under your admiring gaze.

“You are too gorgeous,” you relayed with a smirk of your own.

“Stop,” she said, a full blown blush rushing to her cheeks now as she pulled you back in and ducked her head into the crook of your neck. Before you could tease her, she began sucking on your neck - sure to leave a mark - and began running her fingers along the waist of your jeans. A soft sigh escaped you as you trailed a finger absently up her spine.

"What's wrong with me complimenting my gorgeously sexy girlfriend?" You chuckled only to have it punctuated by a moan as she reached up to start massaging your breasts.

"That's my job," she said as she pulled back enough to grin at you. Her gaze flicked away bashfully for a moment before she offered you another grin, leaning in to kiss you softly. "Have I told you how much I love being called your girlfriend?"

"You better love it," you said quietly as you brought a hand up to cup her cheek, your thumb caressing her cheekbone as you gazed into her deep, brown eyes.

You two had been dancing around each other for so long. The timing had never been right and both of you had been so scared of ruining your friendship, so you both waited...and waited. For a while it seemed like you'd never be together, but after years of tension you were finally together. And it felt even more incredible than you imagined it would be. And now here you were straddling her, her thighs flexing deliciously every time she shifted her hips against you. You needed her so badly.

"And no, you haven't told me," you added. "But why don't you show me how much you love it?" You responded as you grinned back, nipping at her bottom lip and pulling a low growl out of the brunette's throat. A gasp escaped you as suddenly Jessie's strong hands were gripping your ass and she stood up off the couch, lifting you with little effort. Your legs wrapped around her toned waist as she carried you to the bedroom and set you down somehow both roughly and gently on the edge of the bed.

She stood back for a second, looking down at you with dark eyes and taking you in. "My gorgeous girl."

Your voice caught in your throat and before you could recover, she knelt down at the edge of the bed and began taking off your jeans. Your heart raced as she locked eyes with you and you felt the intensity of her stare. Her fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear and you sat up momentarily.

"Please - I want you to get undressed, too."

She smirked at you before leaning in to give you a peck on the lips before gently pushing you back down onto the bed.

"Only because you asked so nicely," she said as she stood up and slowly undid her pants. You didn't realize that you were biting your lip as she languidly shimmied the pants down her hips before dropping them to reveal a pair of blue boxers that somehow complimented her sculpted thighs and made her look even more attractive.

She put one knee on the edge of the bed and crawled up your body as one of her hands caressed the side of your neck before moving her hand up into your hair. She rest her forehead against yours, her lips grazing yours as she whispered. "I'm going to take such good care of you, my girl."

She'd barely touched you and yet you had to physically stop yourself from writhing beneath her, you were so needy for her. "Jessie, please," you pleaded as she laid gentle kisses down your jawline. Your fingers splayed out firmly into her hair and drew out a small moan from her.

She continued her way down, grabbing the waist of your underwear and pulling them down as she moved back off the bed. She settled herself between your legs and hooked them over her shoulders as she started kissing her way up the inside of your thighs.

Your chest heaved up and down at the anticipation. She hadn't even touched you and you were already gripping the sheets.

"Jess, please - I'm so wet for you already. I need you," you practically whimpered.

She kept one hand on one of your thighs, but the other reached up and pulled your hand away from the sheets to lace your fingers together. She then closed the space between herself and your heat, dipping the tip of her tongue inside your entrance, which was well and truly soaked waiting for her, before she pulled it out and delved deeper before tracing up and down along your folds between settling her lips around your clit.

"Oh fuck," you breathed as your hips lifted off the bed. You felt her smile into you as she moved one hand up to rest on your hips and push you back down. You heard her moan as she sucked on your clit before lapping up your juices once more.

"Oh my God, Jessie," you said between rasps of breath. Your grip on her hand tightened and she picked up her pace, nuzzling her face even deeper into you. The vibration of her moan as she ate you out sent a shock of pleasure through you and you ground your hips up to meet her mouth. You released another moan as she dug her nails into your thigh.

It didn't take long for a tightening sensation to form deep within you. You brought both of your hands up to face, balling them up and resting them against your forehead as your head dug back into the mattress. You ground your hips up to her mouth and she moved with you in tandem.

"Don't stop," you pleaded. "I'm gonna cum."

She groaned heavily into your pussy, though didn't lose pace. Profanities fell from your mouth as her tongue continued to flick across your clit and she brought you closer and closer to your peak. Your legs tightened around her and your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure went through you. She continued to lick up and down your folds and around your clit as she helped you ride out your high.

When she came up for air you were still in a daze.

"Holy fuck, babe," Jessie said as she crawled up again to kiss your lips. "That was so hot," she praised. You slowly began to regain alertness and you opened your eyes to see her watching you intently. You brought both hands up to cup her face and kissed her deeply.

"You were so fucking amazing," you said with a disbelieving shake of your head. You figured Jess would be incredible - she was an elite athlete in peak physical condition after all - but this was something else. She gave you a cocky smirk.

"I told you I'd take good care of you."

"You, Jessie Fleming, have such a hold on me," you teased as you gave her another kiss. A small moan escaped you as she deepened the kiss before pulling back slightly to look at you.

"I love you more than you'll ever know."

You inhaled sharply at the intensity of her claim, before reaching up to kiss her hard, which she met readily. "You're everything to me," you responded.

Jessie's eyes closed as she seemingly processed your words. You caressed her cheek as you waited. "Are you okay, baby?" You asked.

She opened her eyes once more and nodded with a gentle smile. "I just - I can't believe that this is happening. I love you so much. I've been in love with you for years." She paused to take a quick breath. "I know we haven't been official long - at all. But it feels so natural. And I honestly don't know what I'd do without you now."

Jessie wasn't always one for words, so hearing her say these things sent a rush through you. You pulled her closer and kissed her again. "I feel the same," you assured her. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Though she smiled at you, she still shook her head. "I don't think you get it. Like...this isn't a fling or anything."

You had to laugh. "Babe, of course it's not. I thought we covered that."

"No, like," Jessie caught herself before resetting. "When I see you...," she trailed off again.

"Baby, it's okay," you reassured her. "You can tell me anything."

She smiled. "I know. One of the many things I love about you." She took a breath before blushing and rolling her eyes at herself. "I'm pretty sure this isn't the way this is supposed to go, but...it feels right. I promise I'll ask you again later. Properly. But for now, I just wanted to tell you that I want to marry you someday."

Your mouth fell agape as her words hit you. This beautiful, talented, smart and incredible woman not only loved you, but wanted to marry you?

"I mean, that's a lot. I'm sorry. I-" Jessie began to backtrack, but stopped as soon as you flipped both of you over so you were straddling her once more.

"Jessie," you said with a warm laugh. "I want that too." You felt her physically relax underneath you and you leaned down to kiss her before sitting back up, feeling warmth stirring inside of you again as she rested her hands on your hips. You cleared your throat. "You're not the only one who's been in love for years. So, when the time comes," you gave a light shrug, "I'll give you a 'yes'." You laughed as Jessie beamed up at you.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Come here," Jessie whispered as she used one hand to pull you down into another kiss while the other moved to rest on the small of your back. "I'm not rushing, but, I can't wait to marry you."

You took both of her hands and moved them above her head, pinning them to the bed as you leaned against her and kissed her slowly.

"So make me your wife."

"Oh fuck," Jessie moaned as her eyes closed and she bit her lip. Now it was her turn to buck her hips up against yours. It seemed that this turn in conversation was turning her on as much as it was you.

Before you knew it, she grabbed you and lifted you to lay you fully on the bed, your head now on the pillow. When you caught her eyes, they were dark and glazed over and she climbed over top of you kissed you deeply, her fingers lacing together with yours as she squeezed your hand tightly.

"Y/n Fleming. You're going to take my name," she told you with absolute certainty before exhaling shakily. "I've wanted you for so long. I hated seeing you with other people." She glowered at you, but you didn't feel scared at all. Instead you wrapped your arms more fully around her to pull her closer. She kissed you again. "Now that you're mine, I don't ever want to let you go." Her possessive words stirred a physical reaction in you and you lifted your hips up to grind against hers. Something in the pit of your stomach stirred as her eyes fluttered shut momentarily before locking on you once more. "I want everyone to know you're mine. And I'm yours."

"Oh, fuck, Jess," you hissed as your eyes involuntarily rolled into the back of your head. Jessie was very reserved, and despite how close you'd become over the years, she was almost always sweet and gentle. Seeing this domineering and possessive side of her was unexpected, but outrageously hot. You were absolutely aching for her.

"You like that?" She mumbled as she rolled her hips against you and began kissing your neck once more. "You like knowing that you're mine?" Your jaw fell slack and your head rolled to the side at the things she said.

"Oh my God. Yes, yes, I love it."

"You love what?" She asked with a nip at your skin as her hands began to wander down your body.

"I love being yours," you said as you ran your hands along her body as well.

"Remember that," she accentuated with a sharper bite. One hand trailed up the outside of your thigh before her hand rested at the inside of your hip. She could feel the heat radiating off of your center and it sent a shiver down her spine. She reached her other arm around so it was behind your back and she pulled you into her. "Remember - I'm the only one who gets to touch you."

You could feel her thumb tracing along the outside of your entrance and your hips bucked beneath her looking for more contact.

She chuckled and you could feel her smile against you as she moved her head up slightly to nibble on your earlobe, the sound and feel of her breath in your ear making you dripping wet.

"Fuck, Jessie, please. I need you inside of me."

She hummed in approval against your ear before whispering.

"I'm the only one that gets to be inside of you."

You nodded rapidly, eagerly.

"Yes, Jessie, I promise."

"That's my good girl," she said as her fingers began to trace even closer to your entrance. "Now, I can't leave lovely wife unsatisfied, can I?"

Your mouth fell open at the proclamation and you tried desperately to find her fingers. "Oh my God, Jessie, I need you so badly."

Moans fell from both your lips and hers as she sunk her fingers into you, filling you up.

"Fuck," she hissed as she pressed her forehead against yours, eyes closed in bliss. "You feel so tight around me. You feel so fucking good." Her fingers remained still inside of you as she relished the moment, but you began to roll your hips looking for friction.

"Mm," she mumbled before kissing you, but refusing to move her fingers. "You're so needy for me, baby." She took your bottom lip between her teeth and gave a tug. "I love how desperate you are for me right now."

"Jessie, please, I need you," you begged. You felt her grin against you and a rush went through you as she agonizingly slowly began to pull her fingers back.

"Remember," she spoke teasingly as her lips grazed against yours. Just the tip of her fingers sat at your entrance and you ached at the void they left, "I'm the only one who gets to be inside you."

"Only you," you affirmed, your voice straining with need.

"Good," she said as she slammed her fingers into you to the hilt. Another loud moan escaped you as you writhed beneath her. She dug the nails of her free hand into your back and began pumping in and out of you.

"Oh my God. Jess," you chanted as she moved in and out of you with such force that the bed shifted with each thrust. She curled her fingers upward to press against the spot that sent jolts of pleasure through you with each touch.

"Hear how wet you are for me?" She taunted as the sounds filled the room amongst your panting and moaning. "I fucking love it," she growled as she started plowing into you even stronger, thrusting her hips against you in time to add momentum as you moved together.

You dug your nails into her back and dragged them down, feeling her arch into you at the action and groan in pleasure. You certainly left scratches on her back that her teammates would see, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Mm," she hummed. "Let everyone know how good I made you feel."

If her fingers weren't already fucking you so good you were nearing your orgasm, her words alone could've nearly done it.

"Jess," you panted as you rolled your hips and opened up further for her, pulling a low moan out of her.

"I love hearing you say my name," she said as she picked up her tempo. "And I love the way you spread your legs for me."

"Oh fuck. Jessie," you moaned wantonly. "I love you." She arched into you and pulled you impossibly closer to her before she began suckling on your neck again, marking you further. "More, Jess. Please. I need more."

She nipped at your neck and dug her nails into your back once more with a pleased hum before sliding a third finger inside of you, filling you up even more. You threw your head back into the pillow with your mouth agape at the sensation.

"You're so fucking sexy," she panted as she began trailed kisses along your jawline. "I can't believe you're all mine."

"I'm yours. I'm all yours," you said through ragged breaths. You dragged your nails down her muscular back once more. "Nobody can fuck me as good as you."

Your cries filled the room, punctuated by heavy breaths and moans from Jessie as she fucked you even harder into the mattress. She was like a woman possessed.

"I'm gonna cum," you said as you tightened your legs around her waist.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum on my fingers. Show me how good I make you feel," she said as she continued her relentless pace.

You screamed her name as you tightened around her fingers and you flooded her palm even further with your wetness. Your legs closed around her waist like a vice and she groaned deeply into your neck. She steadily began to slow her pace as she helped you ride out your high. When your body fell limp, she stopped, but remained inside of you. She rested her forehead against yours, panting to regain her breath.

"Oh my God," she said. "That was the sexiest thing ever."

You, on the other hand, couldn't even speak. You were in a complete daze and you only just now realized that your legs were shaking. She squeezed you close to her and laid sweet kisses all along your face.

"I love you so much," she whispered. "You were incredible."

"Me?" You asked in bewilderment, pulling back enough to give her a wide-eyed gaze. "You. That was all you. Oh my God." You shook your head, before chuckling softly. "That was the most incredible sex I've ever had. Nobody's ever fucked me like that before."

Jessie frowned at you. "I don't particularly want to hear about your exes, but," she cracked a cocky grin, "I do like hearing that I come out on top."

You laughed before kissing her softly. "It's not even close."

"Good," Jessie said as jealousy flashed across her eyes before clearing up again. She leaned in and gave you a lingering kiss which was broken by your moan as she slowly withdrew her fingers from you. You felt empty the moment she left and you looked up at her to see her bringing her fingers up towards her mouth - they were dripping wet - and she sucked your cum off of them with a small moan of her own.

"You taste so good."

"Oh my God, Jess." She was so incredibly hot you didn't know what to do other than cover your eyes and shake your head. "What are you doing to me?"

She laughed softly. "I don't know. I think I made you cum pretty hard though." You were about to respond when her bravado wavered, a slight blush beginning to form on her already crimson cheeks. She gave you a bashful smile before saying, "I'm glad you liked it. I-I don't know what came over me. Earlier, I mean. Um, I hope it wasn't too much. You know - what I was doing, or what I was saying?"

You rolled your eyes, feeling a brief rush of guilt at the puppy eyes she gave you at your reaction.

"Baby. Everything about what you did. Everything about you, was so incredibly hot. It was everything I wanted and more. I'm so fucking lucky." She nodded quietly, taking you in, and you kissed her reassuringly. "You can fuck me like that, and talk to me like that, any day. And I'll thank you for it."

She chuckled, her eyes lighting up as she nuzzled your neck. "You do not need to thank me. You were so outrageously sexy." She paused momentarily with a small hum. Then she admitted, "I'm soaked just from seeing you, hearing you, and feeling you. You have no idea."

You gripped her sides, another twinge going through you as you felt her defined muscles underneath your touch. "Well, let's do something about that."

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso #woso community #chelsea wfc #canwnt #jflem #woso x reader

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the-californicationist · 3 months

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Good Fences (Fluffuary #04)

FEB04: Cheering Them Up

You had a boyfriend.

Keyword: had.

Getting broken up with in the middle of the night was one thing, but having it be over a text message (all lowercase, no punctuation) was a whole new low. You knew it wasn’t going to last, but the suddenness of it was dreadful, as were the personal criticisms he decided to throw your way just to rub salt into the wound.

your bodys just not doing it for me anymore

we could still hook up if you want just hmu

but not in bethesda obvi lol

You weren’t sure what possessed him to say those things to you, but you had seen enough, so you blocked him.

Tear-stained and angry, you went outside to get some fresh air. You wrapped your blanket around you and stared up at the stars, trying to move on from that asshole as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, you heard John’s sliding door open up. You turned to look at him, and he seemed just as startled to see you there.

“Oh, hey… Hey,” he furrowed his brow, “What’s happened?”

You sniffled, trying to find your voice,

“Got dumped.”

“What? Just now? It’s midnight,” he sat next to you, “Did he just leave?”

You shook your head, dreading having to admit to the fact that you hadn’t even deserved a capital letter much less an in-person visit,

“Text message.”

You passed over your phone to let him experience the drama first-hand. As he read the messages, his face grew increasingly dark, almost scary. You couldn’t help but notice his attire while he read, and you felt insane for doing so. He was in running shorts and a cut-off tee shirt with some rock band’s logo fading and flaking on the front. You were supposed to be sad, but now you couldn’t stop staring at his very visible and extremely muscular arms and abs.

“You’re joking,” he handed you back the phone in disbelief.

You shook your head again and looked down at the tissue in your hands, trying to come up with something to say.

“What a fuckin’ wanker.”

You laughed, nodding, and he cracked a smile. You let his voice wash over you like a salve, healing the hurt another man had caused,

“Well, this calls for a bloody drink, don’t it?”

“Don’t think the bars will be open by the time I make it out,” you joked. You weren’t going out anywhere tonight.

“Wait here,” he said, ducking back into his apartment.

He reemerged with a bottle of Scotch whisky and two glasses, pouring one for you and then one for himself, each equally generous.

John tinked your glass and drank. You followed suit, albeit a bit more timidly.

It burned. Then it spiraled into oranges and vanilla and honey. And then it burned again. You tried not to, but you made a face, and said,

“Wow, it’s good. Thanks.”

“Strong, hm?” He purred softly, pleased with his choice.

“Yeah, but still good,” you insisted.

“Don’t worry about those messages, love. Your body is doing wonders just how it is. He wants your reaction.”

You tried not to let the compliment linger in your mind for too long, but it was stuck in there like popcorn in your teeth.

“I know,” you admitted, “And I wasn’t going to marry this guy or anything, but…”

“Still hurts.”

“Yeah.”

John was clipping and lighting a cigar to have with his drink, and you watched him as he worked. He still hadn’t bought that ashtray he’d promised, but he was using an old glass bowl for now. He smoked for a bit, sharing it with you wordlessly. Then, he took a long breath and gave you a droll look.

“What is the difference between a condom and a coffin?”

You laughed before he even gave you the punchline of the joke, shocked by its crudeness,

“What?”

“You come in one and leave in the other.”

“John!”

He snickered, listening to you laugh, turning a little red in the face as he did so.

“Alright, alright,” he prepared another one for you, “What can you spell with P, E, N, I, and S?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, and shrugged,

“Penis?”

He scoffed,

“Spine, you filthy thing.”

You stayed outside talking and telling jokes long enough to see the black starfield give way to a pale pink morning, and before you knew it, half a bottle of whisky was gone. John had certainly worked his magic in you, and by the time you said goodnight and climbed back into your bed, you’d forgotten why you’d even been wasting your tears on a jerk like that in the first place.

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

#the californicationist does fluff #fluffuary 2024 #fluffuary #john price fluff #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod #cod fanfiction #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mwii

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 3]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: It turns out that befriending a dragon is not as terrible or difficult as you would have thought. But people, unsurprisingly, will always still be awful.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

The first week of your internment flew by shockingly fast.

Maybe because you were always at War—a perpetual cycle of making some demand or other (that usually centered around a desire for the barest levels of personal space or agency) only to be met persistently with the ancient, all-powerful, dragon equivolent of >:(

The clothes and toilet situation were already a lost cause. You knew this.

But there were so many other little things. And big things too, sure. But you can never fully realize how much you’re truly under someone’s thumb until you want to head off to do something utterly insignificant and cannot.

For example, your first morning in captivity you’d tried to boil a pot of water. It was nothing fancy, just a small kettle kit you kept in your travel bags for making warm drinks and reheating rations into something vaguely edible. You’d collected some bits of wood from the heaps of debris lying all over the place and gone about lighting a fire. You’d only just barely managed to get the little sticks smoking when a horrific screech sounded from overhead.

And then, WHUMP!

The spiked end of a black tail came crashing down, obliterating your little fire and sending bits of wood flying in all directions.

“What the fuck, man!”

Tsunotarou curled around you to hiss at the flattened sparks like some unholy snake.

“It’s just for my tea! My tea!” you howled. “I wasn’t going to burn your stupid house down!”

He’s shifted into his human form again not long after, and he looked down his nose at you like a fussy parent—arms crossed petulantly across his pale chest.

“Fire is dangerous for humans,” he snuffed, absolutely indignant. “If you find yourself requiring flames for anything at all, call for me and I will lend you some of mine.”

“I would have been fine,” you beseeched, looking at the shattered remains of your little campfire with a grumpy pout.

“Lilia says humans often overestimate their own constitutions,” Tsunotarou grouched, expression dour and stony. You were about to ask just who or what on Earth this ‘Lilia’ was supposed to be, when the dragon dipped his head in close to yours and nuzzled along your throat. You could feel the pinpricks of his fangs against the delicate skin over your pulse. “Which is why so many of your kind are massacred for their own foolishness. Or fall victim to plague and famine. Or wind up being burned alive. I would prefer that you not succumb to such a fate.”

You gulped, and that had been the end of that conversation.

Another time you’d tried to scale the banister to reach the bathroom on your own. It had been going pretty well, all things considered. There were plenty of nice footholds and it all had sort of settled at a slope, meaning you weren’t really climbing a wall so much as very slowly crawling up an incline like a determined slug.

You’d nearly made it to the top when you were scooped up by the back of your collar and promptly deposited at the other end of the room.

Of all the languages you half-spoke, Dragon was not one of them. But the snarling and snapping in your face certainly seemed like the rather universal ‘what do you think you’re doing?!’

“I was just trying to go the bathroom!” you argued. “No fires or anything!”

Tsunotarou’s large maw ducked down to growl into your much smaller one. He let out a series of exasperated clicks and chatter, the sharper or which were punctuated by sprays of green sparks from behind his teeth. His nostrils flared and the blast of dry heat that followed sent your head spinning and your hair gusting out behind you.

“I wasn’t going to fall,” you finally said, because you had a feeling that’s what you were being lectured about at the moment.

The rumbling growl that followed sounded like it had traveled all the way from the dark trenches of his bowels, or maybe even the very marrow of his bones. You could feel the ground vibrating under your feet.

“Fine,” you conceded. You weren’t exactly worried he was going to eat you anymore, but there were certainly… other things. Many dumb ways to die. “I won’t do it again.”

He harumphed at you, his head bobbing in what looked a bit like a nod. And then he turned and raked a gigantic claw across your little makeshift ladder of debris, flattening it into nothing with one, fell, swoop. You’d groaned and let yourself collapse listlessly back into the ensuing cloud dust.

There was also the time you’d nearly had a conniption because you were sick and tired of camping out on a frigid, stone, floor every night when you were trapped inside a literal castle.

“There are dozens—hundreds—of rooms in here,” you’d argued. “There’s got to be a bed in at least one of them.”

Tsunotarou had simply rolled over onto his side and arched a wing into the air, as if offering you the warm hollow beneath.

“You’re not comfortable,” you’d hissed, and he’d sulked ridiculously for the rest of the afternoon until you’d managed to finally come to a workable solution.

As in, dragging every goddamn mattress you could find into the cavernous ballroom that he’d long since seemed to claim as his Favorite Spot. You’d turned it into a game—see who could find the most comfy things and make the biggest squish pile. Being nearly a dozen times your size and having twice as many functional limbs that were capable of grabbing things, naturally Tsunotarou had come out as the winner. But now you had nearly endless pillows and blankets to snuggle into at night, so who’d really come out on top?

“I’ve never bothered to build a nest before,” he’d mumbled to himself, post victory. He patted gently at one of the thick duvets he’d swiped, expression almost whimsical. “It’s quite nice.”

“See,” you’d grinned, bouncing up and down on one of the springier mattresses. “I told you this was better.”

And so chuffed were you that you weren’t heading to sleep with a rock as your pillow for the first time all week, that you didn’t even complain when late into the evening he sneakily dragged you out of your plush pile and into his—tail wrapped snuggly around your waist and tucking you tightly against his ribs. I mean, his nest was much nicer than yours. It was only practical.

So, as anyone could see, your week had been far from easy.

But after those first days, once you had finally gotten a hand on all his nonsensical rules and you’d in turn concocted equally as many ways to try and circumvent them just enough to make yourself comfortable, things settled into a kind of domestic tranquility.

And that was when time started to drag.

You’d read the handful of books in your pack a dozen times over. You’d counted the cracks in the ceiling (one-hundred-and-thirty-two of them). You’d counted the stones on the floor (six-hundred-and-five). You’d sorted those stones into piles by shape, size, color. You lolled back against your cozy pile of blankets and thunked your head miserably against your pillow. Once. Twice. Three times. Four—

“What do you normally do all day?” you complained.

Tsunotarou lazily blinked awake. He lifted his giant, serpentine, head and glanced pointedly around the cavernous room before settling back into his mountain of blankets with a contented huff.

“You just sleep?” you frowned, baffled. “All the time?”

He rumbled unintelligibly at you for a moment before digging his claws into his nest with a long, lithe, stretch. And then those scales began to melt away, and soon enough he was pale, and bare, and rolling his way into your lap with a contented little grumble.

“What would you have me do instead?” he asked, voice thick with the syrupy warmth of sleep. He stretched again, like a big cat, and settled his head more firmly against your thighs. “Raid cities? Burn villages?”

“…Ideally no,” you grumbled, hands falling habitually to start running your fingers through the silky soft hair pooling along your abdomen. “I mean, there have got to be other things dragons do. You live for thousands of years.”

He hummed, neon eyes slipping closed. He pressed his forehead demandingly up into your palm and you rolled your eyes before obligingly sliding your digits lower to scratch at his scalp and around the base of his horns. That seemed to be his favorite.

“I am not wanted much of anywhere, I’m afraid,” he said finally with a defeated little sigh. It didn’t sound particularly self-deprecating, just… accepting. It made something sad and small curl in your gut. “So what else is there for me to do? Other than while away the hours.”

“There’s got to be something,” you pressed, that eking irritation born from boredom melting into something that was a bit too close to genuine concern for your liking. “Don’t dragons keep hoards? Treasures? That’s a thing, right?”

“Oh.” He blinked himself back into focus, as if only remembering in just that moment. “That is true. Would you like to see mine, then?”

“Aren’t hoards, like, private?” you asked, hesitant. Trying not to bring up the glaring elephant in the room that was ‘Hey. Yeah. So my friends and I totally broke in here in the first place to steal from said hoard. Not that we knew there was a dragon here. But like. I did, in fact, come here as an adventurer and a thief.’

“Naturally,” Tsunotarou hummed. You could feel it vibrate all the way up your hip. His lips quirked into a little, crooked, smile. “I’ll take you there now.”

The Treasure Room was as elaborate and expensive looking as the name implied, and it seemed to be the one area of the castle that had been spared the grey desolation that had seeped through the rest of it. It was enormous—certainly larger than even the grand, cavernous, room in which you’d recently been residing. And it was lined wall to ceiling with every variant of wealth you could imagine—precious metals, ancients tomes, paintings from every great master through history, magical weapons, the finest of spell scrolls. You could probably buy the world at least twice over with its contents.

But the thing that caught your eye amidst the endless sea of gold was not a pretty gemstone or a treasure of old, but a little, black and purple, doll—perched atop a looming pedestal of silks and finery like a crown jewel. It was small and plain with curling black horns made of felt. A chubby little dragon miniature that was as ugly as it was round.

Tsunotarou noticed your inquisitive gaze and walked over to pluck the little, cotton, creature from its throne. He held it delicately in his clawed fingers.

“Ah, yes. This is Drago. Lilia gifted him to me after one of his jaunts through the human world.” He turned the doll over in his palms, brow tugging down a bit as he did. “I hope he hasn’t been too terribly lonely. It has been a while since I’ve come down here to visit.”

The great and powerful dragon of the Castle Within The Lava Lake keeping a toy keepsake amongst his most prized possessions was so strikingly adorable that you couldn’t help but feel your heart melt at the sight.

You brightened and turned on your heel to start making your way back to the ballroom and what remained of your adventuring gear. Tsunotarou made a noise under his breath that was too dignified to be a splutter, but what you assumed was more or less his refined equivolent. And then he was tagging at your heels with a perplexed look on his face.

“Where are you going?”

“To get something!” you chirped, mentally running through the contents of your bag and little sewing kits. Yes, there should be more than plenty to—

“To get what?” Tsunotarou pouted, and you realized belatedly that running off in the middle of him showing off his life’s accumulation of precious artifacts and accomplishments was perhaps a bit rude.

“It’s a surprise,” you said. “Just give me like half an hour to put it together.”

In the end, it really only took you around fifteen minutes of fussing. Drago was hardly a complex little thing, and you’d originally learned to stitch in a panic. Trying to mend holes in pants and leather was a lot harder to accomplish when you were being actively chased by bandits, or a raging Ace. In comparison, sitting merrily on the floor of a collapsed ballroom and shoving stuffing into a little ball of cloth was hardly a challenge.

You held out your creation—equally as ragtag and ridiculous looking as its inspiration.

“There,” you beamed, and pressed it into Tsunotarou’s hands. “Now he has a friend.”

A teeny, flesh-colored, blob. With strips of soft fabric for a cloak and a hastily stitched smile. A miniature bard, perfectly (?) encapsulated in his palm.

The dragon stared down at your offering with wide, green, eyes. He looked positively startled—so caught off guard that he didn’t know what to do with himself, let alone the bewildered expression flitting across his otherwise regal face.

“You said he might be lonely,” you hummed, rocking self-consciously back and forth on your heels.

“Oh,” Tsunotarou mumbled, black-tipped claws flexing around his new gift. He observed it carefully, like an aging academic might study some ancient, arcane, relic. There was still that strange look about him—like he couldn’t quite believe the little trinket in his hand was real. “I did, didn’t I...?”

When he remained silent after that, still staring down at your homemade abomination in awe? Horror? you couldn’t tell, you began fidgeting in earnest.

“It is kind of awful looking,” you rattled off, picking nervously at the hem of your cloak. “You can get rid of it if you want—”

“No,” he barked, and then paused, clearly surprised at the ferocity of what had come out of his mouth. That at least seemed to startle him out of whatever fog had settled over his brain, and he clutched the teeny toy firmly to his chest. He cleared his throat and started again, noticeably gentling himself. “No. I think I’d like to keep this.”

You smiled. “Good! I’m glad you like it! No one deserves to feel lonely—even little, toy, dragons.”

Tsunotarou’s lips curled into an awkwardly lopsided smile—like the muscles there weren’t used to tugging so wide. It lit the entirety of his expression with something so heart wrenchingly warm that you couldn’t help but feel like none of that had really been about the little doll at all.

You really should have known better.

If someone as illiterate and ill connected as your wandering gang of idiots could stumble upon the location of a ‘secret castle overburdened with ancient treasures,’ surely anyone even marginally more competent would be able to do the same.

You’d been at the tail end of your supply of rations. And while you hadn’t entirely meant to imply that you might just wind-up starving to death, the comment had been more than enough to send your dragon into a tizzy.

“Well, what do you normally eat?” you asked, and Tsunotarou frowned as he considered.

“My guards bring me sustenance when I require it. Ice elementals, goblins, stone giants,” he listed, eyes tracking your expression in hopes that maybe any of that sounded appetizing. Which it certainly did not. His nose scrunched up in thought. “Perhaps I should seek counsel with Lilia. He would know what to do.”

You cleared your throat. “I mean, I know what humans can eat. I could just tell you.”

His face brightened. “Meat, yes?”

You nodded. “Sometimes.”

“Like that of a manticore?” he continued, excited at the prospect. “Those are particularly delicious. And there are quite a few nesting in the crags not far from here.”

His merry smile slowly slipped off his face at whatever pinched look had twisted up yours.

“Vegetation?” he tried. “There are ample bushes at the foot of the volcano. Most do have thorns, but I suppose you could pick around them.”

“…Maybe you should talk to Lilia,” you conceded.

So Tsunotarou had shifted into his scales with a promise to return post-haste and many fussy reminders that you should move as little as possible to avoid wasting any more precious nutrients. The great downbeats of his wings seemed to roll through the entire castle like a shudder, and then you were alone for the first time in nearly a fortnight.

You lazed around in the echoing quiet, drumming bits of random tempos against your stomach and occasionally humming snatches of obnoxiously raunchy tavern tunes that you’d never really managed to bleach from your brain. How had Tsunotarou done this for decades? It’d barely been ten minutes and you were already bored out of your mind.

There was a flash of shadow near the grand entrance, and you sat up enthusiastically—ready to greet your returning host. But it wasn’t a dragon at the door.

“Who the hell are y—” the words died in your throat, and you spat a muted curse. The Silence Spell settled over your shoulders like a grungy cloak. You could feel its sticky film along the back of your tongue like a fine layer of moss.

“Who the fuck is that?” one of them hissed, and you fought the petulant ‘that’s just what I’d been about to ask you, jack ass!’ that wouldn’t have made it past your lips anyways.

There were six in total—a proper party from the looks of their ensembles. At least two people in full plate armor, a waify looking elf with a thick spell book in his hands, and three others in various getups that weren’t quite cookie cutter enough to tell you anything helpful. You rambled at them irritably, silently, gesturing rather impolitely all the while. You mimed teeth, and claws, and wings, and stomped around like a beast in a play.

‘There is a dragon here,’ you tried to say. Because maybe they were just unlucky adventurers like you and Tweedle Dee and Dum had been—not having any real idea what lay beyond these castle walls. You mimed a giant mouth, like a crocodile. ‘And he will eat you.’

“What the fuck?” Armored Dude gaped.

You pointed irritably at Mister Elf Wizard, who was still very obviously concentrating on keeping you encircled in a mesh of absolute silence.

The itchy sensation clogging your throat eased and you let out a breath, which echoed loudly in your ears. Elf-Guy looked at you with something that was perhaps a shade or two off of sympathy.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

“You need to leave,” you replied instead, firm. “There’s a dragon that lives in this castle.”

“Of course there’s a dragon,” Armored Lady scoffed. “Why do you think we’re here?”

You looked at their heavy, expensive, armor. At the giant, shining, magical, weapons hanging across their backs. At the thin wizard who proceeded catch you in a Hold Person spell that was so fast and strong you couldn’t have dispelled it if you tried. And of course you tried. What else could you do? These people weren’t like you and your loveable idiots who managed to occasionally stumble their way into an adventure. These guys were the real deal. Warriors. Heroes. Dragon Slayers.

“God-fucking-damn it.”

But of course you’d been caught in Silence once again, so you were left cursing nothing.

[TAG LIST] CLOSED

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 months

Text

Words: 1,731 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Warnings: language, mild gore (killing walkers) Summary: Daryl can't figure out why there is distance between you and him since arriving to Alexandria and he worries as you venture outside the walls almost every day. A/N: This is Part 1 of a two part commissioned miniseries! Final part will be out Friday, 9 Feb 2024 A/N: The patron and requester for this fic is the lovely @easy-peasy68 so thank her for her amazing generosity and support! Thanks again for the commission, hun!

“Who was that?” Daryl asked, flicking his lighter open and closed aimlessly as Carol came back into the kitchen.

“Y/N,” Carol said. “She’s heading out. Said she’ll be back by dark.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, ducking his eyes. “What’s she doin’ out there anyway? Seems like she’s been goin’ out a lot.”

Carol shrugged. “I don’t know. I think she forages a bit. But mainly I think she likes being out in nature, outside the walls instead of in here.” She gave Daryl a pointed look. “Sound familiar?”

He hummed another non-committal noise and headed out onto the porch. Maybe he could catch a glimpse of you heading down the street. Carol followed behind him.

“You could go ask her yourself, you know,” Carol said.

Daryl shook his head. “Nah… I feel like she’s been avoidin’ me since the road.”

“Avoiding you? What do you mean?”

Daryl shrugged and sunk down on the top step, digging in his pocket for a cigarette. “I dunno… I’ve seen her chattin’ with some of the people in here but doesn’t seem like she’s around the house much anymore. Seen her outside the walls once or twice, but—she just kinda moved off when we saw each other. Like, in a hurry…” he drawled. His face fell and it wasn’t lost on Carol.

“Hmm. Maybe she’s just trying to fit in here. Find her footing, you know?” suggested Carol.

Daryl shook his head. “I dunno. I dun think it’s just that. Just seems different than it was—out there, ya know…”

Carol leaned down and stole the cigarette dangling from between his fingers and straightened up. “Well, maybe she thinks you stink like cigarette smoke,” she said, dropping it to the porch and putting it out with the toe of her shoe.

Daryl glared up at her, clearly annoyed. “Real nice,” he drawled, squinting ahead into the growing daylight.

Carol laughed. “I’m sure you’re reading too much into this. This is a huge adjustment for all of us. I mean look at me,” she said, twirling so he could take in the full effect of her meek, suburban housewife outfit.

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Ya look stupid,” he commented.

“Oh, now who’s being mean, Pookie?” she laughed, ruffling his hair playfully. Daryl pulled away and she let out another good-natured laugh. “I have to go figure out how to make casseroles out of sardines and almond flour,” she said. “Just—go talk to her. You know, like a grown-up,” she teased him. Daryl only let out another low growl, annoyed, and waved at her as she left.

Throughout the day, as he passed the time building his bike in Aaron’s garage, he was run through with sudden bolts of anxiety and fear that caused his hands to still in the middle of a task. He kept one eye on the sidewalk outside, hoping to see you wander in safely so he could let go of the worry that was plaguing him. What if something happened to you out there? A bad run-in with strangers, a herd, something as simple as a fall or trip that left you injured enough you couldn’t make it back… Shit. He had a hard time focusing on what he was doing and found himself screwing on and unscrewing the same nut three or four times in a row. Curses murmured under his breath punctuated the metallic tinkering sounds. Daryl refocused and tried his hardest to put it out of his mind.

But as the day wore on and the light outside started to wane, he replaced his tools and wiped the oil and grease from his hands, and he was absolutely certain you hadn’t passed the garage on your way home. The lightning bolts of worry had now turned to an acidic rolling boil in his stomach and he couldn’t help himself any longer…

He rushed home, took the stairs down to the basement two at a time, and retrieved his gear. He didn’t know what the hell he was actually going to be able to do to look for you… It would be dark soon and tracking in the brush and brambles by the beam of a flashlight was no easy task. The only thing he did know was that he couldn’t wait around doing nothing any longer.

He was halfway to the gate when the familiar sound of your laugh drifted across the manicured lawns toward him. He looked up and—there you were. You were illuminated in the warm glow of the porchlights on a house up ahead. You were standing on the top step, one hand on the railing, talking with the elderly couple who had fussed over Judith only that very morning.

The pit in his stomach relaxed and he let out a relieved sigh, his muscles unknotting. You were back inside the walls and you seemed to be completely unharmed. You looked happy even, talking animatedly to the couple. It produced some kind of pang between his lungs. Daryl watched as you swung your pack off your shoulder and dug inside, retrieving a small burlap bag that you handed to the woman. Daryl felt as if he was peering through a window at a life he’d never have, though he wasn’t able to put any name to the feeling in the moment. He felt as if he didn’t belong.

And then another emotion welled up in his chest, tightening his lungs. He was, frankly, annoyed. He’d spent all day worrying about you, watching to make sure you made it back in one piece, and then panicking when you hadn’t returned and the sun was sinking. And then he finds you here, already safely inside and chatting away with community members you’d hardly known for two weeks. How long had you been back? How long was he needlessly worrying and picturing worst case scenarios? What the fuck? Why did everything feel so different in here than it had on the road? He felt like you hardly looked at him. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had a real conversation with you. Goddammit! He turned around and headed back home with a different kind of unsettled feeling in his midsection.

Without saying a word to anyone, he slipped down into the cool dark of his basement room, dropped his gear, and flopped himself down on the bed.

But sleep was not forthcoming and he found himself tossing and turning most of the night.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl splashed water on his face then cupped it into his hands and took a sip—it was cold and bracing. He straightened up to stare at himself in the ornate mirror. He had a somewhat ragged look because he simply refused to let Carol trim his hair still. His skin was bronzed to a dark tan from endless days wandering in the sun on the road. He shook the wet strands of his dark curtain of hair out of his eyes, dried his face and hands, and headed outside.

He almost ran right into you.

“Oh!” The noise of surprise left your lips and your hand shot back from where you’d been reaching for the doorknob. You were staring right at the broad chest and shoulders of Daryl.

“Sorry,” he drawled, but he didn’t move out of the way. His eyes drifted to your pack slung over your shoulder. “Goin’ somewhere?” he asked.

“Hmm? Oh, I’m just dropping something off for Maggie,” you said, gesturing with the little sack of dried leaves in your hand.

“Nah. I mean yer pack,” he said, nodding toward your shoulder.

“Oh. Just heading outside the walls for a bit,” you said. You couldn’t understand why he was still standing in the doorway, completely blocking your path.

“Mmm,” he hummed, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment. He seemed to be on the edge of saying something else.

A nervous tightness appeared in your chest and you couldn’t help looking up at him, perplexed. You shifted your weight anxiously from one hip to the next.

Whatever he had been considering saying, he thought better of it and he stepped out of the way for you, holding the door open so you could get inside. “Well, be safe out there,” he said as you slipped past him.

“Yeah. Thanks,” you said over your shoulder. You heard the snap of the door behind you and let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Why had he seemed so tense?

Having delivered the leaves for tea to Maggie, you chatted with the rest of your found family for a few minutes before leaving the house again to head to the gate. Daryl was nowhere to be seen but you had an expanding emptiness between your lungs. Things had been hard between you and Daryl since that night on the road… You needed a distraction. The woods were good for that. Going out and soaking in the wonder of the natural world seemed to put everything right, if only for a time. You marveled at the abundance of yellow and orange chicken-of-the-woods, the crimson warning of fly agaric mushrooms, and the tangled brambles that would be weighed down with wild berries come late summer and early fall. So, with that peace and quiet in mind, you headed through the gate, thanking Sasha who rolled it back and shut it behind you. You were soon among the trees.

You had no idea that Daryl too was resolved to head into the woods as well. In fact, he was resolved to follow you and relieve the troubled feeling that plagued him—that combination of annoyance, perplexity, and worry that kept him awake all night. Why were you going outside the walls damn near every day and why were you avoiding him? He couldn’t stand it anymore. He fucking missed the way things had been before Alexandria. It even had him yearning for the time on the road despite all the thirst and hunger and grief he was wading through… and that thought was insane. No, he was going to deal with this, whatever it was.

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reminiscingtonight · 11 months

Text

Meeting Morgan

Leah Williamson x Morgan!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Sisterly Love Masterlist

[WOSO Masterlist]

Collapsing onto your back, you can’t help but let out an exhausted groan.

God are you sweaty. And sore.

There’s always good sweatiness and soreness and bad sweatiness and soreness, but with the screams still echoing in your ears, this is definitely one of the good ones. Especially more so when you see the grinning face in front of you.

Letting her pull you into her arms, you all but bury yourself against your sister’s neck.

“You played great today, junior.”

“Thanks mom,” you snark back, punching her lightly in the arm when you hear her nickname for you.

Alex rolls her eyes. “It wouldn’t kill you to compliment me every once in a while too, you know. Even old ladies like me need a little bit of praise every now and then.”

Clearing your throat, you muster up a faux serious face. “Sorry. I meant to say you did a really great job getting put onto your ass by my girlfriend, ma’am!”

Your phrase is punctuated by a sharp salute, and you’re quick to duck away before Alex can put you into a headlock.

The first time it happened, it was a pretty great tackle if you do say so yourself. Yes, you and Leah weren’t on the same team tonight, but the soccer connoisseur in yourself couldn’t help but admire great skill and form when you saw it. But then it happened again. And again. By the fourth time Leah tackled your sister, you had to physically put yourself between the two of them to stop Alex from getting herself a card.

Though you wouldn’t have dared to say anything while the game was going on, now that it was over and you guys have secured yourselves a win, you know that you can tease Alex about it all you want.

“You don’t even need to introduce the two of us anymore. I’d say Leah and I are quite acquainted now with the number of times she tackled me,” comes her retort.

Despite the nonchalant way Alex says it, you can still see right through her.

You couldn’t count on one hand the number of times Alex has bugged you about introducing her to Leah. And that’s not even counting the way she’s blown up your phone prior to the USWNT’s arrival in England. The second she caught sight of you, your sister has hung around like glue, every other word being about when you were planning on pulling your girlfriend out of hiding.

A soft hand brushing against your back has you turning away from Alex. Your face breaks out into a grin when you see a familiar face. “Hey Keira.”

The midfielder is quick to return your hug, chuckling at the over-excited way you look over her shoulder in hopes of catching sight of your girlfriend.

“You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you?” The question’s directed towards Alex, but your sister shakes her head, knowing full well where you’re headed.

You’re more than happy to follow as the Lioness takes you to the other side of the field. From the looks of things, Leah’s deep in conversation with a couple of her teammates. About what you couldn’t be too sure, but you’re instantly coming up with a plan.

Putting a finger up to your lip, you tilt your head towards the group. Keira instantly gets your drift, a devious look on her face as she gives you a nod in agreement.

Georgia notices you first. She spots your approach from miles away, noting the way your eyes are gleaming with mischief. She only has time to roll her eyes at you before Leah’s following her gaze.

Blue eyes light up with delight when she catches sight of you.

It’s a bit comedic how you and Keira instantly deflate. The two of you will just have to wait for another day to cause mayhem.

“Hi babe.”

“Don’t ‘hi babe’ me. I’m mad at you.”

Your pout is instantaneous. “Babe,” you repeat, winding your arms around Leah’s waist. You know you’ve already won when you see the hints of a smile on her lips.

Leah still tries to act annoyed, scrunching up her nose at you. “You’re so sweaty.”

“Kettle meet pot,” you roll your eyes, wiping at her forehead with your sleeve.

Leah’s quick to tangle her fingers with yours when your hand drops away from her face. She pulls your intertwined hands back up to her lips, pressing a light kiss against the back of yours. You can’t stop the instantaneous flushing of your cheeks.

Georgia lets out a hoot, teasing the two of you, but Keira’s quick to drag her away, providing you two a bit of privacy. You make a mental note to thank her later.

“You know how much of a sore loser I am. You couldn’t let Lessi score a couple more goals or anything?”

You throw your head back, laughing at the pout that’s now present on Leah’s face. “I’m sure I’d get kicked off the team if I let all of the forwards get past me.”

“Well not all of them. Just Less.”

You laugh again, drawing Leah into your arms. She instantly sags against you, tightening her grip around your body.

“I’ve missed you.” The words are spoken directly into your neck, but you still manage to hear them.

“You saw me last week.”

You can almost feel Leah rolling her eyes at you. Rather than answer, she presses a discreet kiss against your skin. It takes everything in you not to let it show how flustered you’re starting to get.

“I’m trying to sweet talk you and all you’re going to focus on is how wrong I am?”

“Sorry babe. I missed you too.” It’s spoken with a little laugh, but both of you can hear the truth behind your words.

Ever since getting together, it’s rare to not go more than a couple days without seeing each other. Even when going away for your national team camps, the two of you always made sure to facetime each other whenever possible, whether that meant losing a couple hours of sleep just to catch the other. However, this time around neither of you have been able to sneak away much alone time. Leah’s been busy with her captaining duties while your national teammates have been trying to soak up as much time as they can with you before they inevitably leave across the ocean again.

“Just a couple more days.” Just a couple more days before you’ll finally finish your round of games. Just a couple more days until you can put back on the familiar red and white you’ve come to call home. Just a couple more days and you can curl up in your girlfriend’s arms, not having to worry about leaving them for at least a couple more months.

Leah hums but doesn’t say anything else.

For the next couple moments the two of you just try to soak all of it in.

Wembley is crazy. It’s huge, it’s beautiful, it’s what every soccer player could only dream of. But you’re here. And so is Leah. Though not on the same team, at least you get to experience this together.

Pressing one last kiss against Leah’s hairline, you pull away. She’s instantly pouting your way, sad of the missing heat.

“Go out to dinner with us tonight?”

Leah starts to say something before she stiffens, eyes looking a couple inches above your shoulder.

You don’t have to turn around to know she’s made accidental eye contact with your sister.

“Us as in…”

“Alex wants to meet you,” you apologetically confirm. You could only put this off so long before Alex takes it into her own hands. At least this way you’re able to control when and where it’ll happen.

Almost as if she can sense the discussion surrounding her, Alex materializes right by your side. Leah almost jumps by how quickly the forward does so, but you’re quick to glare at your sister.

Your eyes tell her everything you want to voice.

Be nice.

Alex rolls her eyes in response. Placing her arms around your shoulder, she all but shoves you out of the way so she’s standing in front of Leah herself.

Scowling at Alex, you brush yourself off. You know she definitely hears your grumbled curses as you carefully come to stand beside your girlfriend.

“Five.”

“Pardon?” Leah blinks, a bit confused by what Alex is trying to say. You’re a bit confused yourself, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern.

“I know five different ways to make you disappear without a trace. You know, just in case you break my sister’s heart.”

“Alex!” Your jaw drops as you turn red.

“And trust me when I say no one will ever be able to prove anything.”

“Alex!” you hiss, this time with more vigor.

Leah is quick to give your side a squeeze. She meets Alex’s eyes evenly. “If I ever break her heart, you’re probably going to have to get behind all of our Arsenal teammates who would be more than happy to help you make me disappear.”

“Leah, don’t encourage her!” you groan, dropping your head against her shoulder.

Alex’s lip quirks up, amused by Leah’s response. Her eyes narrow a bit before she’s letting out a hum. “I like you.”

Leah lets out an awkward chuckle. “Thank you?”

For the second time in mere minutes, Alex bodies you out of the way, sliding up beside Leah as she loops an arm around your girlfriend’s shoulder. Alex’s serious face has dropped, and you’re not sure you like what you see there as she starts leading Leah away from you.

“Now that we’ve got the whole shovel talk out of the way, which embarrassing story do you want to hear first?”

“Alexandra!”

You’re left chasing after them, cursing at Alex as you try to stop your sister from spilling any secrets.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #Ace writes

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puppetmaster13u · 7 months

Text

Dies Irae WIP

Have a bit of a wip for way later into the story because I am procastinating on the beginning lol. So have a lil bit of Dick's pov

👻🔥🦇👻🔥🦇👻🔥🦇👻🔥🦇👻🔥🦇👻🔥🦇👻🔥🦇

“These assholes again?” Red Hood muttered, sounding incredibly done even with the modulated voice that came through the helmet.

Dick eyed the man, then let his gaze shift towards the people in white with- apparently- laser guns. Then turned his gaze back to Bruce, whose jaw was set in his usual not-quite a scowl that meant he was going over something and not liking the picture it was painting. Joy.

And tonight had started out so well with them actually being able to find the maybe-crime boss. It was hard to tell if the man-who-might-be-younger-then-Dick was actually one or just got latched onto by the Crime Alley residents as a guardian alongside Peter. Though the meta was more of a local semi-celebrity.

The crime lord (if he was one) cracked his neck, those weird- but pretty cool- ribbons circling around him almost defensively. “Oi, big bird, old man, you gonna’ stop me from hurting these idiots?” he called towards the two of them from where he was also ducked around a support pillar, interrupting one of the goons-in-white’s own spat out words.

Honestly Dick hadn’t caught the man’s words, though knowing B they’d comb over every bit of the footage from their suits after this. But well, the dude obviously felt it was important if the downright thunderous expression was to go by.

A glance at B’s face nearly had him wincing. Yeah whatever had been said, Bruce really hadn’t appreciated or liked it in any way either. Still, he responded to Hood with a growl in his voice even as a batarang found its way into his fingers. “We don’t kill-”

Hood audibly scoffed, even over the sound of the laser-guns. “Well too bad I’m not one of your oversized pigeons,” the maybe-teen snarked, guns suddenly in his hands. Damn, Dick hadn’t even seen him grab them, they’d almost just appeared in his hands like they’d been summoned in the time it took him to blink.

“Hey now,” Dick found himself joking as he peered back around the metal while trying not to get his head taken off. “What have I ever done to you to call me that, huh?”

“Exist.” The word was punctuated by a few shots of the… hm, .45 guns he thinks? It wasn’t like he knew what specifics Hood used or that he knew everything about them. Gosh he wished he wasn’t out of birdarangs, even if Bruce passed him a few batarangs to throw.

Not helping was the fact that Hood had cut both of his (), meaning he couldn’t swing up to the rafters to get a drop on the… okay that was a lot of people. Now suddenly less as one quite literally exploded into gore, definitely not from any sort of weapon of theirs.

A glance towards Hood nearly made him miss his throw towards one of the white-wearing goons. The trenchcoat the maybe-teen was literally writhing, glowing and shimmering like living flames as sparks trailed behind him.

Okay, alright, Hood was apparently a meta like Peter too. An undead meta fighting against people claiming to be part of the government and wanting to murder him for being a… ghost? What like Deadman?

Dick’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He was definitely missing something here, and judging from B’s scowl he wasn’t enjoying having only part of a puzzle either.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #story wip #jason adopts the fenton siblings au #red hood #jason todd #halfa jason #guys in white #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #The batfam aren't aware that hood is jason yet #The titans tower and confrontation haven't happened because he's been busy taking care of the whole liminal class #The batfam don't know that Hood; Jason; and Peter are the same people lmao #writing #writing wip

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gardenofnoah · 1 year

Text

i give it all to you

i miss nanami and i am fully leaning into the fact that i am wired Wrong

tags: MDNI, smut, impact play, aftercare, gendered terms/pet names, this is very much unedited because i wrote it in an hour

it’s almost too much, like this.

kento lumbers over you and looks at you with eyes that see through you. the expanse of his shoulders cuts off everything behind him from your view—if nerves weren’t prickling at your skin, it’d be a comfort, to be so far removed from every other earthly thing but him. but your mind is moving far too fast, and he can see it on your face.

“it’s awfully loud up there this evening, my love,” he punctuates the point with a soft kiss to your temple. you lean into it, letting out a little sigh. it’s one of thinly veiled frustration.

“what is it?” it’s murmured against your skin, genuine and concerned. your eyes search for his and you find he’s right there—as he always is.

your fingers reach for the soft cotton of his old t shirt and you pull him to closer to you. he’s hesitant to put all of his weight on you, but it’s a welcome comfort. it’s also an opportunity to bury your face in his neck, because you don’t want to look at him right now.

“want to try something, ken.”

except you are not so lucky because he hears this and pushes back, only far enough to see your face. your attempts to pull him back don’t sway him at all.

“what would you like to try?”

he’s so visibly open right now it nearly tears you in two. you think you could tell him anything and he’d do it. even so, it still feels like a herculean task to get the request off your tongue.

“i—” it gets caught in your throat and you take a breath, trying again, “i want you to spank me.”

your request hangs in the air between the two of you, and it’s silent just long enough for you to start to regret it. in your embarrassment, you miss the way kento’s eyes dilate as he processes what you’ve said.

“never mind,” it tumbles out of your mouth too clumsily as you try to take it back, “it was stupid, i—”

“no,” he cuts you off and it’s almost stern. it shuts you up immediately. “it’s not stupid.”

he’s looking at you far too intently. you shove down the urge to sink further into the sheets beneath you—to hide. he reaches up to trace your brow bone with the pad of his thumb—a silent offering, a hand of mercy that you turn into, relieved.

“can you tell me how you want it?” he asks gently, ducking his head to press soft kisses to your jaw line. each one is a match struck under your skin.

“over your knee,” it’s breathy when it leaves you, and you find him equally as affected above you when he sucks in a shaky inhale at your words.

he presses his forehead to yours, eyes shut tight like he’s holding something simmering at bay. his hand comes to cup the side of your head, and your own eyes close at the feeling of his thumb smoothing over the baby hairs at your temple.

“want you to take care of me, ken.”

you feel something low and rumbling in his chest at that, pressed to yours like he is. it’s an answer to a call—a relinquishing of the control you’ve kept cradled to your chest until now. the need to hand it all over to him takes over everything else. the knowledge that it is safe to do so makes it so unbearably easy.

you tilt your head until your mouth finds his, and it’s soft, but there’s something else there—something that crackles underneath his skin—protective, capable, and assured. it wipes away the last of your reservations, and he lets out a quiet groan against your lips when he feels you let the last of them go underneath him.

pliant under his hands, it’s easy for him to rearrange you how he wants you. you find yourself bent over his lap—hips propped up and cradled by soft pillows, with your chest resting on the mattress beneath you. you wiggle a bit to settle into the position, and when you turn your head to look back at him, he’s smiling down at you softly—nothing but adoration in his expression while he smooths a palm over the back of your thigh.

“are you alright like this, my love?”

you nod, smiling back at him—already slipping under the syrupy hold of the headspace you’d been searching for.

“do you need a pillow for your head? your back isn’t hurting like this?”

any other time, you’d laugh at his mother hen tendencies—but his concern only serves to take root in your chest and branch out until it fills you entirely, warm and soft. you feel like you’re floating.

“‘m okay, ken.”

his eyes crinkle at the corners at your slightly slurred affirmation and he reaches to smooth over your hair with a warm hand.

“of course you are,” it’s nearly a coo when he says it, “my good girl.”

you shiver, eyes fluttering closed as his fingers continue to press into your scalp. you have the fleeting thought that this alone—the doting, his praise, and the way he cares for you so deeply—could probably satiate you. but it’s the promise of more that keeps you right on the edge of lucid.

“remind me what your colors are, my love.”

you suck in a breath and do just that—green to continue, yellow to pause, red to stop. his palm smooths over the back of your thigh again while you rattle them off, and the appreciative hum he lets out when you finish is so full of pride that it makes your head swim and your thighs clench together.

you feel his fingers reach around until he’s got a hand full of the soft skin of your inner thigh. he massages it gently—the pressure barely there and still making you squirm.

his other hand still cards through your hair and the contrast between that and his wandering fingers between your thighs makes you whine into the sheets. he brushes the backs of his knuckles over the fabric covering your sex and you can’t do anything but tremble and take it—hips stopped from chasing the feeling by the pillows beneath them.

“what’s got you so worked up, sweetheart?”

you hear the smirk in his question and you can only answer it with a whine, burying your face further into the sheets as he sweeps over the growing dampness of your panties. it’s not enough for him, though—the hand brushing through your hair is suddenly wrapped around the strands and pulling roughly, turning your head and forcing you to look at him.

“tell me, sweet girl.”

“please, ken,” you gasp, the ache in your scalp shooting right down to your core, “i need it, please—”

he smiles fondly at you, loosening his grip and resuming his early work of brushing through the soft strands. it feels like the highest reward—you keen into the touch.

“what do you need, angel?”

“need you to spank me,” you whine, wiggling your hips as much as you can to chase the feeling of his fingers, “need you to hurt me, ken.”

you feel his fingers hook through the fabric and slide it down, sticky when he pulls it from your puffy cunt. he doesn’t pull them off you entirely, and that in itself shoots a strange thrill up your spine—you are his to do what he pleases with. the silly material sits across the backs of your thighs and there’s a part of you that wishes you could see this from a vouyer’s perspective—to watch yourself almost bare and debauched over the kento’s lap. you’re acutely aware that he’s still fully clothed.

his hands smooth over the curve of your ass, gentle and unhurried. the anticipation curls in your gut and you try not to tense up.

“so beautiful, like this,” he murmurs to you, almost absentminded as he takes a rough hand full of your ass, letting it go to watch it jiggle, “what a sweet gift you are.”

the first swat to your backside is firm but not hard—he’s letting you get used to it. it makes you feel warm—your kento, always considerate.

you just don’t want him to be gentle right now.

“harder,” you whine, muffled by the sheets, “please, harder—”

you almost regret it when he brings his hand down again. you would, if it didn’t feel so good.

the crack echos around the bedroom and reverberates inside your skull—all you can feel is the sharp sting of the impact and the gentle, unwavering press of kento’s fingers over your scalp. you make no effort to fight the moan that he rips from you.

he smooths his heated palm over the handprint he’s left on your ass, soothing. you nearly come out of his hold when his fingers brush over your dripping sex.

“such a messy girl,” he groans, teasing your clit with the pad of his finger, “dripping all over me like this.”

he rubs the swollen little nub with the pad of his finger in slow circles and the pleasure is blinding—you’re sure your slick is running down his arm right now, but you can’t bring yourself to care about anything but how good he’s making you feel—

the next spank comes unexpectedly, and hard, right over the junction of your thigh and your ass. you pitch forward and wail, face pressed hard into the linen. there’s a pause before he’s got a hard grip on your hair again, turning you to face him.

“tell me your color, angel.”

you blink at him, trying to get your brain to piece together the sounds and syllables you need.

“green,” you croak, mouth feeling like it’s full of sand. the things you can focus on are minimal—the bright red burning of the handprints he leaves on you, his fingers gently untangling a knot from your hair, the way he’s looking at you right now.

it’s the last one that pins you there, and you only register the tick of his jaw after you feel his hand connect to your backside—just as hard, right to the fat off your ass. your mouth drops open and your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and you reward him with the sight of it. his fingers find your heat immediately, and he indulges you with the slip of his finger inside you—though only to the first knuckle. he lets out a groan that’s so primal you think that it might make you cum from this alone.

“you’re fucking filthy,” he breathes, and it’s so unlike him that it would be startling if it wasn’t so hot to hear him talk like that, “my sloppy little girl.”

and then you’re sure that you could cum like this, but he doesn’t give you the chance and you’re grateful for it, because that’s not the point of this—delivering another harsh smack to your ass that has you seeing stars.

he continues on like this until you’ve lost all concept of time or place—totally resigned to his onslaught and he alternates between hard spanks and gentle touches to your sex. he checks in with you periodically, always rewarding you with that devastating smile when you choke out a pitiful “green!”.

you’ve no other train of thought, other than that this is exactly what you wanted.

he lets you breathe for a few moments, leaning forward to press soft kisses to the marks he’s left on you.

“two more for me, angel, and then we’ll be done. can you count them for me?”

a part of you mourns the end of this, but the rational part of you knows that he’s only taking care of you. you can set both of those things aside to focus on the latter— you nod at him, emphatically, because you want to be good for him.

“i want to hear it, then,” he says, pulling his hand back. “are you ready?”

you nod again, and you tense up involuntarily, bracing for the blow.

it doesn’t come.

you let out a sharp exhale, leaning into the hand that still smooths over your hair—that grounds you in this moment.

he waits until you’ve relaxed completely to follow through—and when he does, it is brutal.

you let out a scream when it connects, trembling with the force of it—but you remember what he’s asked of you.

“o-one,” you sniff, leaning into him.

“good girl,” he murmurs, “such a good girl. can you give me one more?”

you nod shakily, nuzzling into the hand that brushes your hair from your face.

“i need a verbal yes, my love.”

you suck in a breath, turning to meet his eyes.

“yes.”

his smile is nearly blinding. “thank you, angel. one more.”

you close your eyes and resign yourself to it—let yourself sink in deeply to the hold he has on you and let him take the wheel. you give him everything you have, and then you let go.

when his palm connects with your ass for the final time you feel it everywhere—sharp, stinging tingles shooting down to your toes and up to the top of your head. you cry out weakly, letting out a pitifully warbled “two” as you slump down over his lap.

his hands are everywhere, then—gentle when they cradle your limp body to his chest, shuffling you until he’s able to curl himself around you completely, like a big, protective cocoon.

he presses kisses to every inch of you that he can reach—the soft pressure to your temples, hairline, and brow bone lulling you into a sleepy haze.

“are you alright, my love?”

it’s whispered into your ear and it makes you shiver against him—his arms pull you tighter to him and you nod, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and breathing him in.

“you did so well, sweet girl,” he tells you, and you let out a little whine, pressing further into him. he trails his fingers down your spine, whispering his love into your ear as he does.

he brushes over one of the markings he’s left of you and you jolt in his hold.

“shh,” he murmurs, placating you immediately, “i’ll take care of it, sweetheart.”

you settle back into him, content in the knowledge that he will—that he’ll take care of you, always. that you were right to give this piece of yourself to him.

that he will protect it—like he does the rest of you—for as long as you allow him to.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanamin #nanami fic #nanami smut #fic: i give it all to you

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ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

The Subtleties of Steve Harrington Part 4

The last part. Thank you all so much for the this story got. It was a fun thought experiment on people reacting to Steve not being straight.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

One year later

Steve loved going to Indy just to get Eddie his favorite chocolates. He loved that it took effort and dedication to get something Eddie enjoyed. They had found this place on one of their trips up here. It was a specialty chocolate shop that sold all sorts of sweets. Eddie’s favorite were the dark chocolate truffles.

Steve found them a bit too bitter for his taste, but Eddie loved the mouth feel.

So he slipped into the shop while Eddie was distracted at the nearby record store.

He stepped up to counter, trying to decide what he wanted to get for himself. He had just about decided when someone came out of the back.

“Welcome to Sweetie’s!” came the cheery voice. “What can I‒Steve?!”

Steve’s head snapped up and gasped. “Andy?”

Sure enough, standing in front of him was the first boy Steve had ever kissed.

“Holy shit!” Andy exclaimed and hurried around the counter to hug him. “How’s it been, man?”

Steve hugged him back. “It’s great. Really great.”

“Come sit, sit,” Andy said practically vibrating. “Mom! I’m taking my break!”

“Okay, sweetie!” a woman called from the back.

“So you’re the sweetie the store is named after?” Steve teased.

Andy blushed. “I tried to push for Candy Andy’s but she thought more people would come in if they thought it was feminine.”

Steve grimaced. “Sadly, she’s probably right.”

Andy sighed. “Too true. She’s only helping me get it off the ground, but once it’s full up and running, it’s mine.”

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s awesome. I’m glad to see you doing so well.”

“So what are you up these days?” Andy asked as they finally sat down at one of the table the shop had.

“Learning to be an EMT,” Steve said. “I found out I was really good at handling emergency situations and the thought of being able to help people just made it all the more exciting for me.”

“That’s amazing,” Andy said. “I heard about the earthquake. Did you lose anybody?”

Steve shook his head. “It was a near thing for a couple people I hold dear, though. One broke both her legs and blinded her and the other nearly died from blood loss.”

Andy winced. “Are they okay now?”

Steve nodded. “She’s getting to the point where she can make out shapes now and the doctors are hopeful that she regain the ability to see colors.”

Andy eyed him slyly. “And who’s the lucky girl?” Steve blushed so deep, it went from the tips of his ears to the vee of his polo shirt. “Or boy?”

Before Steve could answer Eddie flounced in and began nibbling on Steve’s ear, punctuating each bite with, “Bites you!”

Steve turned his head and kissed his lips.

“Ooohh...” Eddie crowed. “Kiss you!” And promptly melted into Steve’s side.

“Eddie?” Andy asked.

Eddie finally realized that there was someone else in the shop. He blinked owlishly at the person in front of him as he brain slowly turned back on. “Andy?”

“The one and only,” Andy said. He turned to Steve. “Looks you’re the lucky boy.”

Steve ducked his head. “He’s my everything.”

And it was Eddie’s turn to blush.

“So are you gay?” Andy asked Steve.

Steve shook his head. “Bisexual. I thought I was gay all the way through elementary and some of middle school. Realized I liked girls too.”

“After Stevie and I got together we learned we shared our first kiss with the same boy,” Eddie said with a grin.

Andy’s jaw dropped. “No way! Me?” He started laughing.

Steve nodded. “Apparently we have the same great taste in boys.”

Andy blushed.

“Sorry about what happened in your seventh grade,” Eddie said. “I sorry I ran and left you to deal with all that.”

Steve grimaced. “I’m sorry, too. For standing by and letting Tommy and the others bully you like that.”

Andy looked back and forth between them. “Holy shit, you two are serious! Guys I love you both, but Jesus. I never blamed either of you for what happened. It was all Tommy Hagen and we all know it.” Eddie and Steve shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “And apparently he got help after high school and did a lot of grovelling.”

Just then the door swung to the shop swung open.

“Hey, babe,” the person said, “they were out of turkey so I got chicken is that okay?”

Eddie and Steve froze, not daring to turn around. Andy beamed up at the newcomer.

“That’s fine,” he said. “Come say hi. A couple of our old classmates stopped by.”

The person cocked his head in confusion but came around the table to see who Andy was talking to.

Steve looked up first. “Hey, Tommy.”

Tommy looked over at Andy in shock and then back down at Steve who had another man curled around him like a teddy bear.

“Hey, Hagen,” Eddie said with a grin. “I see you worked out that internalized homophobia. Good on you, dude.”

“Holy fucking shit!” Tommy yelped. He looked between Steve and Eddie trying to force his brain to work out what was in front of him. “Are you two going out?”

Steve nodded. “Just stopped in our favorite candy shop to pick up this one’s favorite chocolates for our one year anniversary.”

Eddie blushed and shoved hair in front of his face to hide it. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Steve pulled him in even tighter to his side. “Anything for you. You know that.”

“Back atcha, big boy!” Eddie crowed and kissed him.

Tommy slid next to Andy on the other side of the table, setting down their lunch. He ran his nail through a scratch on the table. “I didn’t realize you liked boys, Steve.”

“Ah.”

Eddie bristled a little. “You were his best friend for years and you didn’t notice?”

Steve put a hand over Eddie’s fidgeting one. “It’s okay, sunshine. I hid it really well.”

Andy nudged Tommy’s shoulder. “Meet my first kiss,” he said pointing to Steve, “and my first boyfriend.” He pointed to Eddie.

“Your first kiss was Steve?” Tommy asked a bit mournfully.

Steve shrugged. “It was just one of the cute little kid things that happened on the playground in third grade. But he was so sweet.”

“That would have been before I moved in,” Tommy said, nodding. “That makes sense, I guess. Knew about the first boyfriend thing though...”

“Not your finest hour,” Andy said.

“Not my finest decade, fucking hell,” Tommy agreed. “Steve here figured out being a homophobic douchebag was shit well before I did. I had to be forced into therapy by the university I was going to when I had a breakdown in the middle of one of my classes before I did.”

Steve winced. “To be fair, it took some cognitive realignment on Jonathan Byers and Billy Hargrove’s part to enact that change.”

Andy and Tommy exchanged confused glances.

“He means he got hit in the head too many times,” Eddie supplied.

Tommy grimaced. “Yeah, I was there for the first one and heard about the second.”

“Sided with Billy on the second,” Eddie growled.

Andy frowned. “Who’s Billy Hargrove?”

“A bully transfer student,” Eddie explained, “from Cali that showed up their senior year and proceeded to make Steve’s life hell.”

“I think we established that I was an asshole,” Tommy said.

Steve gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze. “Eddie’s just overprotective of me.” He brought the hand to his lips and gave the tips of his fingers a kiss.

Eddie melted. “I just hate thinking about how alone you were and I didn’t do anything about it.”

Steve nuzzled his neck. “I don’t think I would have accepted your help. But thank you.”

Tommy smiled. “You guys are really good for each other.”

Eddie smiled at Steve. “Yeah, yeah we are.”

Steve coughed, blushing all the way to his ears. “So...how did this happen?” He waved his finger between Andy and Tommy.

“Well after a year of intense therapy,” Tommy explained, “where me and my therapist figured out I was a really repressed homosexual, I went on a journey of trying to make amends with the people I’d wronged.”

“Nice to know I didn’t make the list,” Eddie huffed.

Tommy winced. “You were just so unflappable I didn’t think it bothered you. Which is still shitty now that I think about it. It shouldn’t matter if it bothered you or not, I should have apologized.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Eddie agreed dryly.

Tommy nodded his head once. “So let’s do it now. I’m sorry I was dick from the moment I laid eyes on you until the moment I left Hawkins. You were so cool and knew exactly what you want and how to get it. I just couldn’t handle it I guess.”

Eddie’s eyes went comically wide. “You thought I was cool?”

Tommy nodded shyly.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he cooed.

“Steve was my first crush on a boy, though,” Tommy said jutting his chin Steve’s direction.

Steve grinned. “I know.”

The entire table erupted.

“What?!”

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “Dude, you always tried get the shower next to mine in PE and basketball. That is not best friend/dude behavior.”

Tommy winced. “So why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured you were bisexual like me and you were dating Carol at the time,” Steve explained. “I wasn’t about to break that up, man.”

Tommy cocked his head to the side. “Fair. Would have dropped her in a heartbeat if I had known it was mutual.”

“I like it better this way,” Andy said. “Being your first boyfriend.”

Eddie kissed Steve’s temple. “Me too.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Tommy said kissing Andy on the mouth.

Steve blushed. “I’ve learned arguing with Eddie is like pissing in the wind. Yeah, you’ve relieved yourself, but you’re the only one that got wet.”

Eddie cackled. “That is one hell of a way to tell me I’m better at arguing then you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve murmured.

Andy stood up. “I’ll just have to eat this later, baby,” he said getting up. “My breaks over.”

Tommy stood up and grabbed both of their sandwiches, heading to the back of the store.

Andy slid behind the counter. “So what can I get you boys? It’s on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that, man,” Eddie protested.

“Nah, I want to,” Andy said with a huge grin.

“A dozen dark chocolate truffles and a dozen cherry cordials,” Steve said.

Andy laughed. “Coming right up.”

He got out a couple of boxes and folded them deftly into shape and added the desired chocolates to each box. And then after a moment of thought pulled out his smallest box and folded it into shape. He placed two chocolates into it and put it gently on top of the other boxes.

“They’re for Steve to eat,” Andy explained. “But they’re really for Eddie.”

“Oh no!” Steve moaned.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked confused.

“They’re sour aren’t they?” Steve bemoaned.

Andy winked. “Raspberry.”

Eddie blinked for a moment and then started laughing. “With much appreciation, good sir!”

“You’re welcome,” Andy said. “Stop by anytime. Maybe next time we’ll all do something together.”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance.

“I think we’d like that,” Steve said softly.

Eddie nodded and they walked out the door, dropping each other’s hands as they went back to the real world.

Later that night when Eddie and Steve were alone in their hotel room, Steve got out the raspberry chocolates.

Steve grabbed on and Eddie grabbed the other. They popped it into their mouths and with their silly puckered faces leaned in for a kiss.

They broke off laughing.

“I think I prefer non-sour kisses,” Eddie groused.

“Me, too,” Steve said, leaning forward for a proper kiss. They melted into each other, like the chocolate on their lips.

Steve let Eddie gently lay him down on the bed. “I love you so much.”

“Love you until the end of time, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured.

“Good.”

Having a boyfriend made it a lot easier for people to not assume Steve was automatically straight. There was still some confusion because sometimes people’s hetero goggles were too thick to see past the end of their nose. But Steve didn’t care about those people anyway.

Tag List: @awkwardgravity1 @maya-custodios-dionach @spectrum-spectre @wonderland-girl143-blog @estrellami-1 @evix-syne666 @artiststarme @justforthedead89 @swimmingbirdrunningrock

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #coming out #ladykailtiha writes

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sauriansolutions · 5 months

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Just a lil slice of TreyJade

... featuring eel-form Jade being a scary, teasing predator, and Trey being totally into it.

Also, feedism--I left the actual feeding part as a cliffhanger though, because I am lazy evil. Muahaha.

♧

Trey arrived at the largest of Octavinelle's pools, with a large picnic basket under his arm and a swing in his step. Setting the basket down, he sat by the pool, took off his shoes, cuffed his pants, and gingerly dipped his toes in the inky black water. He introduced his bare feet slowly, one centimeter at a time, getting used to the cold that nearly took his breath away.

He was not there for more than a minute before v-shaped ripples appeared in the water, heading his way.

Soon a spiky dorsal fin appeared, cutting through the water faster than seemed natural. Trey resisted the urge to yank his feet back out of the water.

Before him, Jade appeared, breaching the water only to chin-height, so his mouth was out of the water enough to take in a breath of air, then say, "You know, if it had been Floyd swimming tonight, I doubt he could've resisted the urge to grab your ankles and pull you under."

Trey only chuckled.

"Yeah, but I knew it was you. And you'd never do such a thing."

Jade reached out to put a wet hand on Trey's knee, pulling himself further up out of the water, head tilting to the side as his gills widened to exhale water, so he was breathing air properly.

"You knew it was me?"

"Sure," Trey replied, placing his own hand atop the ice-cold, webbed one. "You agreed to meet me here tonight."

He leaned forward to give the eelmer a kiss on the forehead--laughing as the Jade's ear-fins flared in response.

"Also," Trey pointed out, "you always swim in straight lines, while Floyd... well."

Jade lowered his head and grinned toothily.

"That my brother gets easily distracted is no secret."

"Ah," Trey laughed too, adjusting his glasses, "I was going to say he 'tends to meander more,' or something like that."

"My dear Trey-san." Jade slid what Trey realized was a shoulder-strap down the length of one finned arm, and hauled what at first appeared to be some sort of messenger bag, dripping, out of the water. "Diplomatic as ever."

"Naturally," Trey replied, one eyebrow raised pointedly at the bag Jade was setting down at the pool's edge beside him.

He now realized the bag was more of a woven net, filled to the brim with dark, glistening shapes that were shedding water rapidly, and...

Some were wriggling.

Trey coughed.

"Not that I want to dissuade you from thinking that I'm 'diplomatic,'" he said, scooting to the side in hopes of keeping the growing puddle of water seeping out of the net-bag from completely soaking his pants, "but did you just put a bag of live sea creatures next to me?"

Jade somehow managed to make a chortle sound predatory. A clawed, web-fingered hand went up to cover his mouth. Glints of dagger-like teeth showed just a bit through his fingers.

"My apologies, Trey-san, but... I thought we had agreed to share our meals with each other tonight?"

"Oh," Trey said, looking at the bag of squirming fish and unidentifiable other things, and biting his lip. "So you just brought a ton of seafood. I could've guessed."

"Fresh-caught," Jade said by way of agreement. The eel grinned proudly, even as he ducked his head to pick something *large* from between his teeth. "You'll forgive me if I helped myself to a few of the unlucky morsels that I couldn't quite fit in the bag before you arrived. The nostalgia of aquatic hunting does whet my appetite so."

This statement was punctuated with a low, gurgling growl, which it took Trey a belated moment to realize had come from Jade's stomach, distorted and muffled slightly by being still underwater.

"Oh," Trey said, "yeah. That's. Ummm. You're hungry, huh?"

He could feel his face burning. Hoping to distract from how flustered he was feeling, he turned and pulled his own picnic basket closer.

"Well, fear not," Trey assured, lifting the basket lid and tilting it slightly to show off its contents to Jade. "I came prepared."

Indeed, Trey had packed his basket to the brim with goodies: chicken salad sandwiches on croissants with fresh veggie sprouts, cheese and jelly danishes, mini-quiches in cupcake foil, pasta salad, and spicy deviled eggs topped with green onions and bacon.

While Trey was in his element baking-- his cookies and cakes that were the undisputed centerpieces of Heartslabyul's famous Unbirthday parties--his picnic game was not to be underestimated.

"That looks, and smells, simply delectable, Trey-san," Jade murmured, pupils narrowing to sharp little pricks as he took in the picnic basket's contents. Muscles cording up, like a big cat getting ready to pounce.

Though he trusted Jade, Trey couldn't help the instinctual shiver that ran down his spine, as some instinct-driven, ancestral part of his brain recognized the intent of the huge seafaring predator who'd practically crawled into his lap, licking his lips with a delicate, baby-blue tongue, nearly twice the length of Trey's.

Seawater had at this point soaked fully through Trey's pants, making Trey glad that he'd had the foresight to bring a change of clothes. He just hoped the oddly glittery mucosal layer coating Jade's eel-hide would come off in the wash.

"Careful," Trey warned, as Jade's dripping upper body leaned ever closer to the picnic basket. "If you get the sandwiches wet, they'll fall apart."

Jade halted in his advance, then lowered his upper body down into the water, chin resting on Trey's knee, affecting a pout. Twelve feet away, Trey could see the fan-like tip of the eel's tail flicking back and forth, disgruntled.

"Then how am I supposed to eat them?" Jade asked sadly.

Trey ran his fingers comfortingly through Jade's damp hair, a sly grin forming.

"Well--and this is only a suggestion--but, you *could* let me feed them to you."

Jade gazed up at him, eyes narrowing, but forming arched half-moon shapes that Trey at this point knew signified amusement rather than annoyance.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Jade nearly purred.

Trey tried but likely failed to keep the shiver of anticipation from his voice as he confessed,

"Yes, I'd like that a lot."

#twst tummy stuff #eel form jade #predatory behavior #fearplay #hunger #jade leech #trey clover #treyjade #relationship goals tbh #i might do some doodles to go along with this #drawing has been hard for me lately so we'll see

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jinnxd · 9 days

Text

🏥🏥CHAPTER 52 OMAKE🏥🏥

Shortly after Kiya’s apocalyptic breakup with Mizuki, a startling realization fell upon her one night during her evening shower.

Slapping a hand over her mouth in abject horror, Kiya’s wide-eyed gaze slowly drifted down to her legs—specifically, to what was in between them. A fleeting bout of nausea washed over her, one that she swallowed back with an audible gulp.

“Fuck.” Kiya groaned defeatedly, slumping back onto the cold shower wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m such an idiot.” Each expletive was punctuated with a slam of her head against the wall.

Mizuki had been cheating on her with at least one other girl, she knew that much for a fact. He’d somehow wormed his way into another girl’s pants. A miracle, if she’d ever seen one.

What she didn’t know was how long it had been going on for.

…And if he’d used protection during any of it.

Knowing Mizuki, though? It really, really wasn’t likely. Which meant that Kiya really, really needed to go and get tested, ASAP, especially considering the possibility that Mizuki hadn’t slept with only one other girl. Who knew how many more times he’d cheated on her? And who knows what diseases she may have caught from him?

(Because she was an idiot and carelessly let Mizuki hit it raw.)

“…Fuck!” Kiya exclaimed once more, her hatred for Mizuki rising to a near-impossible level. Concluding her tantrum with an aggravated sigh, Kiya grumpily shut off the water and stepped out of the shower.

A tentative knock sounded from the door. “Um, Kiya-nee? You okay?”

“Just fine, Naru-kun.” Kiya responded glumly. “Don’t worry about me.”

How embarrassing would it be if she had contracted chlamydia again? Disgusted with herself, Kiya made a promise that she would go to the hospital tomorrow morning, bright and early.

The next morning, Kiya set out for the hospital. She wore a nondescript pair of black athletic shorts and a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, hoping to draw the least amount of attention to herself as possible. Head ducked down the entire trip through the village, Kiya finally arrived at Konoha Hospital. Taking a left and walking down the corridor to the attached building where the urgent care clinic was located, her heart dropped in her chest at the sight of a decent-sized line already waiting at the reception desk.

‘I know why I’m here at six o’clock in the morning, but why is everyone else here at six o’clock in the fucking morning?’

Eight other people stood there, each one gazing at her with varying levels of interest. Blinking back at them, Kiya squared her shoulders and got in line. She was a woman on a mission, dammit.

Slowly, the people in front of her left one-by-one as they checked in and sat down in the waiting room before eventually being guided off to an exam room by an employee. The line behind her had steadily grown longer as more people showed up, about eleven people long by now.

Finally, it was her turn.

Clearing her throat and stepping up to the desk, Kiya shot the receptionist a nervous smile. The woman’s eyes flashed with recognition, flickering down at her scar and back up to meet her eyes. A small smirk crossed the woman’s face.

“Name?” The receptionist asked anyway.

“Uchiha Kiya.” Kiya answered quietly, a little wary of the glint in the woman’s eyes.

“And what’s the reason for your visit today?” The woman asked, leaning forward slightly with her eyebrows raised a bit too high. It made Kiya uneasy, almost like the woman was a little too curious about why she was here.

…Yes, that was her job, but still.

Shuffling in place, Kiya attempted to lower her voice even more. “Um… may I just fill out a form?”

The receptionist frowned, grabbing a clipboard from under her desk and roughly thrusting an intake form underneath the metal clip with a click of her tongue. “A sensitive matter, I assume? Very well. Fill this form out and bring it back up when it’s completed.”

Kiya stared at the clipboard the woman held in her hands, watching as she set it down on the desk and slid it in her direction. The feeling in her gut worsened, and she just knew that patient privacy would go out the window as soon as she handed that form back to the receptionist. It was like she could hear it now—the catty whispers of Konoha’s housewives giggling about the fact that Uchiha Kiya was reckless, wild, and oh-so-irresponsible enough to need an STD test at 6:00 in the morning on a goddamn Tuesday.

And if her test came back positive for an STD?

Good gods, she didn’t think she’d ever live it down. It would only add more gasoline to the fire–give the gossipers even more to talk about and simultaneously worsen her already horrible reputation.

And so, instead of picking up the clipboard, Kiya sent the receptionist a tight smile and gently pushed the clipboard back across the desk. “Just a bit of pain from an old wound, but it’s feeling much better all of a sudden. Thank you for your help, but I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”

“Hm.” The woman hummed knowingly, aiming a disbelieving look in her direction and tucking the clipboard back underneath the desk. “Alright then. If anything changes, please don’t hesitate to come back.”

Was Kiya imagining things, or did the woman look disappointed?

Without further ado, Kiya spun on her heel and hightailed it out of the clinic, mind racing all the while. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t go back in there, and the potential issue at hand was pressing enough that she didn’t want to book an appointment and wait days to see a doctor one-on-one.

She gnawed on her thumbnail as she paced the hallway connecting the clinic to the hospital, forcing herself to sink down onto a nearby bench to consider her options.

If she had caught something from Mizuki, the idea of letting it simmer and wreak havoc on her poor vag while she waited for an appointment made her nauseous. It had been through enough, already. Kiya wanted to know for sure—and eradicate any unwanted venereal diseases that might have been lovingly bestowed upon her by Mizuki as a parting gift.

Just as she was about to admit defeat and march back into the urgent care clinic, her attention was grabbed by someone calling out her name.

“Kiya? Is that you?” A familiar voice asked from down the hall. The voice sounded familiar somehow, but Kiya couldn’t place it right away. Turning her head, her eyes widened as they landed on the spectacled face of none other than Yakushi Kabuto.

“Kabuto?” She blurted, the surprise evident in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

His lips lifted into a smile, gesturing at the scrubs that he wore. “Well, I work here, of course.”

“Oh, right…” Kiya laughed nervously, feeling like a ditz. But she had yet to answer his question… and another one of her brilliant (?) ideas had just popped into her head. “Sorry, I’m all over the place right now.”

“No worries.” He chuckled easily, moving to sit next to her on the bench. “How about you? What brings you here at…” He glanced up at the clock hung on the hallway wall. “Six o’clock in the morning? Is everything okay?”

His dark eyes gave her a once-over from behind his glasses, concerning shimmering in their depths. Kiya met his gaze with a shy one of her own, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure, to be honest. It’s sort of a sensitive issue, and I chickened out of telling the receptionist what I really came here for.” She sighed softly, nodding her head in the direction of the clinic doors. “It’s stupid, I know, but I just need to be sure it’s kept private.”

“No, it’s not stupid at all.” Kabuto said warmly. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you need?”

Kiya squirmed in place, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. “I… It’s… It’s embarrassing.” She squeaked out, cheeks red. Sure, she’d had the ‘brilliant’ idea to get Kabuto to help her, but the downfall of that plan meant admitting to someone that she’d slept with before that she may very well have an STD. It wouldn’t affect him in the slightest since they’d only fucked once and that was months ago, but it still wasn’t a good look for her regardless.

“Kiya, I promise you I’ve seen a lot worse.” Kabuto laughed softly, placing a comforting hand atop her shoulder. “You can trust me with this.”

Licking her lips nervously and glancing around the hallway for any eavesdroppers, her eyes flickered up to his before falling back down to her lap. “...IneedanSTDtest.”

Kabuto paused, absorbing her words, before breaking out into a bout of laughter. Kiya flinched away at the sound of his laughs, standing up abruptly with the intention of running off, but his hand darted out and loosely grasped her forearm. “Sorry!” He gasped out, another chuckle escaping him. “I swear I’m not laughing at you, it’s just…”

“Just what?” Kiya mumbled crossly, yanking her arm from his hold but sitting back down anyway. “Because it sounds an awful lot like you’re laughing at me.”

He cleared his throat, shoulders still occasionally shaking with lingering laughter. “I–well, okay, I technically am laughing at you, but not for the reason you think, I swear! Kiya, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I can help you with that, no problem.”

“If you’re sure it’s not a problem…”

Kabuto assured her it wasn’t, escorting her to an empty exam room. He began his work, clinically inserting a needle into her arm and beginning to draw blood. “Not to pry, but is there any reason you needed to get tested today? The last I heard, you were in a relationship with one of the teachers at the Academy.”

“Not anymore.” Kiya admitted bitterly, scowling at the reminder of Mizuki. “He, uh… he cheated on me. So… yeah. Who knows what happened there, y’know? Better safe than sorry.”

His hands paused for a moment, dark eyes flickering up to hers in surprise. “Oh, uh, sorry to hear that. I shouldn’t have asked—”

Kiya cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Nah, I’m over it. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, you were smart to come in today.” Kabuto hummed, pulling the needle from her vein. “And you made the right call not going to the urgent clinic. The only reason I knew about you dating that guy was because I overheard them gossiping about you.”

Half an hour later, it was finally done. The only thing it had cost her was her dignity, but at least she’d find out in a couple days if she was clean or not.

Was it weird to have the same guy that had once been between her legs, eating her out like his life depended on it, swabbing her cervix with complete professional composure? Yes. But it was a necessary evil.

“Thank you again.” Kiya said sheepishly, one foot already out the door. “I owe you one.”

He waved goodbye to her. “Oh, and Kiya?”

She halted her footsteps, looking back over her shoulder with a lifted eyebrow.

“Only an idiot would ever cheat on someone like you.”

A small, shy smile spread across Kiya’s face, her cheeks turning rosy at Kabuto’s words. “You’re sweet, Kabuto.”

(YES I KNOW THE TERM STI IS MORE ACCURATE, BUT STD JUST *SOUNDS* BETTER, OKAY?!)

Also, please practice safe sex, everyone! :)

#omake

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rillils · 1 year

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notes: I’ve been going through a bit of a rough time lately, writer’s block being just one of the issues, so I thought I’d put everything on hold for a little while, grab a prompt from a prompt generator and see what happened. Today’s prompt was: cooking for one another or cooking together. Here goes nothing :3 wordcount: 1137 additional tags: modern setting – no powers AU, pre-serum Steve, fluff fluff fluff, domesticity, they haven’t tied the knot yet but they’ve been practically married since they were 15 pass it on. You can also find this ficlet on AO3!

🍂🍁🍂

November has the crisp sound of crushed leaves, and the color of Bucky’s cheeks stung pink by the wind.

His smile is a soft thing when he reaches his arm out to wrap around Steve’s shoulders, herding him close into his side. “Wanna head back?”

Steve shrugs, “Yeah, if you want,” but his head has already found its natural place in the Steve-shaped slot under Bucky’s chin, where the wool lining of Bucky’s coat collar will tickle his cheek all the way home.

“I’m not cold, though,” Steve wishes to inform him, while Bucky guides them down the street at an easy promenade pace.

“’Course not,” Bucky agrees, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss to the top of Steve’s ruffled head. “Should have worn a hat there, Stevie. Wanna borrow mine? You know I don’t mind.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“’Kay.” A beat of silence. Two. Three. “Hey, you’ve got your gloves on, right?”

“Sure,” Steve replies, slipping his very much bare hand into the warmth of Bucky’s coat pocket.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky hums against Steve’s temple, absolutely and irrevocably one-hundred-percent fooled. “You know you’ll end up getting frostbite again, don’t ya.”

His voice brushes warmly against Steve’s cold skin, and Steve soaks it up like it’s the last summer sun, ducking his head low so Bucky won’t see him grin. “Yes, Ma.”

If Bucky then chooses crime and deliberately tickles him just under his ribs, over the spot he’s known since 2nd grade will make Steve produce the most embarrassingly high-pitched squeals, then Steve may have, perhaps, had it coming just a little bit.

He catches their reflection in the shop windows as they pass by; there’s Bucky’s grinning profile right there, his bangs mussed by the cold breeze, stirring fuzzily under his beanie; Steve’s own laughing face, the red tip of his nose, and their legs stepping together in perfect sync, one-two, one-two, fluid and easy, like they have a million times before. It fills him with a soft kind of awe, the way they move as one. If life was a poem, Steve is sure their bodies would rhyme.

Bucky’s hand curls snugly around his shoulder, bringing them just that little bit closer. “Let’s make something nice and warm for dinner.”

“Can it have potatoes?”

He doesn’t need to see Bucky’s smile; he can hear it in his voice, soft and amused, half-hidden in the fluff of Steve’s hair.

“Deal.”

Steve leans back against the kitchen island, cuddling a steaming cup of tea to his chest, watching the room – watching Bucky – come to life one ingredient at a time.

Bucky throws him a knowing glance, knife in his right hand, the sleeves of his sweater already pulled back to the elbows. “Are you gonna help at all?”

Steve smiles behind the rim of his cup. “Nope.”

“Called it.”

Dinner is a soft, long-rehearsed symphony, and Steve stands close by and listens gratefully, warmth curling like tender fingers in his chest.

The gentle rhythm of Bucky’s knife on the cutting board, chopping carrots into wedges and dicing potatoes into neat little cubes. The silken glide through pork, cut into bite-sized pieces. The languorous sizzle of onion tossed for a sweet little waltz in a drizzle of oil and a scoop of butter, and the splash of wine from the first and only bottle they’ve bought since moving in, and forgot in the back of a cabinet for months. The lazy simmer of the stew muttering quietly on the stove, like the old ladies in the front rows at Mass, with too many tales to tell and not enough time in between Hail Mary’s to spill them all.

Steve gathers every drop of it, of home wrapping her familiar embrace around him, and leans into the sound with his eyes closed, savoring it, Mm.

“You getting sleepy?”

Bucky’s looking at him curiously; Steve allows himself the pleasure of looking back, taking the time to drink him in. The steam from the pot has caused Bucky’s short hair to curl against his brow, and his eyes are smiling even when his mouth is not, and the hoop of Steve’s apron, the one that says Stick a fork in me, I’m done, sits a little too high around his neck. He’s never looked as beautiful, as heartbreakingly sweet as this. The very same thought crosses Steve’s mind spontaneously at least once every day, and every day it feels just as true as the one before.

“No,” he says, closing his eyes again, “I just like watching you.”

He can hear Bucky’s amused snort loud and clear over the bubble-de-bubble of their stew. “Anybody ever tell you you’re a weirdo, honey?”

Steve hums, contentment spreading from the center of his belly to the length of his limbs, reaching down to his fingers and toes.

“All the time, Buck.”

Their ankles twine like young roots under the table.

“Here, tell me how it is.”

Bucky feeds him the first spoonful from his own plate, and Steve indulges him, diligently opening up for the spoon.

Flavor unfolds like a many-layered story on his tongue: the sweet tang of rosemary, a whisper of black pepper, the tender bite of pork and the enticing juice of carrot – each voice speaks to him, describing a richness that cannot come from herbs and spices alone.

It’s the measure of everyday devotion; the care that was poured in every gesture, the peeling and the cutting, the stirring and the dishing. The simple pleasure of making something from scratch and saying, without words, For you.

Steve feels the grin bubble up from the well of his chest. The potato’s so soft, it melts like spun sugar on his tongue.

“Well?”

Bucky’s watching him closely; a small, near-shy smile curling his lips.

There’s something in his eyes, in the way they soften like this, in the gleam always kindled within, that Steve has failed to put a name to since he first saw it there.

Perhaps – he thinks, not for the first time – perhaps it needs no name, only a heart to feel it. And he does feel it, every time Bucky looks at him like this. Deep, deep-set here in his heart, in his stomach; in the golden crucible where tenderness is made.

“Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” Bucky prods. “Does it taste okay?”

It tastes like so many murmurs of ‘I love you’, is what Steve truly wants to say; but that’s a little secret he’ll keep to himself for now.

He snuggles his sock-clad feet between Bucky’s calves, like he often does on cold nights, when Bucky pulls him back against his chest, and their legs lock together like puzzle pieces under the duvet.

“It’s perfect,” Steve says.

Bucky’s eyes crinkle softly with his smile. Like poetry, Steve tells himself, as he lifts his own spoon.

#stucky #stevebucky #rillers scribbles #i cannot be held responsible for gibberish i write when i'm sad and stressed out so sgdjfhskdjfg #i feel extremely self-conscious about this one #but i'm also realizing it's my first fic of 2023!!#considering my history it could also be my last fic of 2023 lol but i hope that won't be the case #i love these boys so much ;___;#one day i'll learn how to post things decently #for now it's time to crawl back to my studying spot ;___;#putting this in the queue so i'll stop thinking about it #queue

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prolix-yuy · 1 year

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OKAY so the SW!Frankie headcanon: 'wildflowers' by the wailin' jennys (tom petty folk cover). Frankie and the reader go out to a local jazz/folk music festival and they spend the day with the boys. that song in the air as they enjoy the festival booths w/ fluffy+flirty Frankie date goodness. tan hands holding a beer or throwing a baseball to win a prize. midday buzz and funnel cake kisses. an after party chilling in a backyard, sun-warmed skin heavy petting after the ride home. the perfect day ~

I love this, it's exactly the kind of date Frankie would plan himself without telling Ms Jackson. The boys would help out a bit - Will would suggest the festival, Santi would wiggle his eyebrows at Frankie, Benny would offer to drive the boys in a separate car so Frankie could have some alone time with Ms J. I imagine this to be a bit early in their relationship, after the events of Something More but before Rosalie.

Festival Frankie Headcanons

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader "Ms Jackson"

Warnings: Way too much cuteness, this is sugary sweet and I make no excuses, brief reference to sexual acts. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

You're taken aback at the recommendation - you just met the boys and Frankie already wants to take you on a group date?

But you did have a really fun time, and you hadn't been to a music festival in ages.

The weather is nice, you feel light and carefree.

You say yes.

Frankie picks you up in his truck and the drive there is punctuated with chatter about fairs and music and Frankie's hand heavy and soft on your knee.

He brushes his fingers along the inside of your thigh a few times and glances at you to see if you fluster.

You do, often, but his smile tells you he likes it.

The parking lot is dusty and packed, but Frankie parks like a champ, one arm over the back of the bench seat so he can turn his head to back into a spot.

The tantalizing stretch of his neck teases you to kiss it when he puts the truck in park.

The boys tease him when you show up fifteen minutes late, his hair a little messier than usual and your smile sheepish.

"Like a couple of teenagers," Santi huffs with no venom in his voice, slinging his arm around you as you enter the festival grounds.

Music lilts in the air, plucked strings and soaring vocals too far to make out but lending enough to the atmosphere that you're practically bouncing.

The boys stay clustered around long enough to get something to eat, a round of beers and lemonades circling the picnic table.

Frankie holds your hand under the tablecloth, fingers still sticky with residual sauce and sugar.

Will peels off first to get a good seat at the amphitheater, Benny catching wind of some cute girls trying their hand at a ring toss and ditching soon after.

Santi catches Frankie's eye and busies himself at a candle stand while you wander away slowly, winking at you when he ducks out of sight.

You meander with little more purpose than to enjoy the day, sharing bits of memories and thoughts about the vendors and booths lining the main thoroughfare.

Before you can even yearn for it, Frankie takes your hand and threads your fingers together, his large ones spreading your knuckles and stretching your palm.

He sneaks a shy smile, adjusting his cap to pull a little lower on his forehead.

God, you want to kiss him every moment you get with him.

And you do, even if it means stopping in the middle of the path and making people part around you.

Nothing could stop you from showing him how full he makes your heart.

When you catch him eyeing a shooting game, you pull a fake coo at a prize hanging in the booth, Frankie's face lighting up and pulling you along.

You could care less about the unfortunate stuffed creature, but seeing Frankie preen a little at inspecting the toy rifle, scoffing at how poor the aim is, makes your heart flutter.

"Okay, hotshot, see if you can beat it."

"Oh that's doubtful, but I'll give it my best."

His wink titillates you as muscle memory and shocking precision has him lining up his shot.

Whiff! A miss to judge how bad the aim is.

Then ping ping ping!

You're walking away with some small stuffed silliness and Frankie's proud strut.

You're also more than a little turned on, but trying like hell to calm down.

Offering to buy him some fried dough for his troubles, you grab a bench and take turns pulling pieces off and licking sugar from your fingers.

"We're not going to make it to the evening show at this rate."

You barely make it through the confection before Frankie is tugging you closer to the amphitheater, gilded caramel curls bouncing as the sun dips into the horizon.

He leads you away from the main path, behind the booths where only a few vendors are walking past.

When his arms circle you, one hand cradling the back of your neck, you melt into his embrace.

He kisses you without preamble, licking into your sweet mouth with playful passion, a smile tugging at his lips.

Time passes, marked by the fade of light from golden to orange to indigo as Frankie lets his hands roam slowly over your back, the curve of your ass, a thumb tracing your jaw.

His mouth leaves dizzying trails along your neck, behind your ear, chaste murmurings swelling inside you.

"Beautiful girl, I'm so gone for you."

Your own hands skim his chest, his cheeks, the dimples you're proud to pull out.

"Love you, Francisco."

He mouths his own devotions back into your skin.

You are thankfully on time to the show, Will's blanket well stocked with beers and snacks and camping chairs to tamp down the edges.

Benny's stretched out and crunching on pretzels, the last licks of sun sweeping through his light locks.

Santi's cracking open beers for you, the glow of a camping lantern carving out his curls and cheekbones like a marble statue.

Will's quietly watching the band set up, throwing you a wave as he reclines in a state of relaxation you haven't yet seen.

You and Frankie settle your chairs side by side, hands held close between you as music starts to fill the air.

It's loud enough that conversation is tough, but everyone seems satisfied to enjoy the bubble of contentment.

You hand out the next round during a break in the set, and Santi's pointed glance between you and Frankie elicits a nod.

He's beaming in your direction for at least another song.

When the band peters off and the applause fades the boys gather up the supplies, colder air starting to bite at your nose.

Genial hugs as you part ways warm you more than your trusty jacket.

Did they adopt you that quickly?

After turning on the car, Frankie rubs your air-chilled noses together and steals a headier kiss, more desperate and greedy than the ones he'd plied you with earlier.

"Can I take you home?"

Would you ever say no to that?

Abandoning his truck in your driveway, you also abandon your stuffed winnings on the seat.

Frankie finds it the next morning, wearing yesterday's clothes and your scent on his skin.

He smiles at it, how pathetically ugly-cute it is, before tucking it in the door storage pocket.

He forgets about it mostly, but every now and then it'll catch his eye and make him smile.

Just like you.

END

#francisco catfish morales x f reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fic #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales fanfiction #catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #sw!frankie #prolix fics

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imaginatorcreates · 2 years

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Sky: A Mentor’s Memoir

April 05, 2022

Summary: A veteran on their last Eden run meets a moth.

Word Count: ~500 Words

I met many of you, and they were all delightful if not equally terrifying. Not in the way that you’d imagine yourself. What’s terrifying is when you share bits of your light with others, then realizing down the road that you’ve irreversibly shared a bit of yourself with them. It makes you bonded together in a way.

I met all of you in a different part of the kingdom, each memorable in their own way. Whether you were taking your first flaps or making your first friend, punctuated with moments that made one’s heart pound with adrenaline or moments of wonder as your eyes widened at something that came after all the suffering.

How I met you in particular was a bit of a bittersweet memory, and I only wish that you won’t ever experience what almost caused me to do it.

It was going to be my last Eden run. I’ve felt as if I’ve explored the kingdom for long enough. It had gotten boring. It was the same every day: clear the kingdom from darkness, save spirits and light creatures, relive their memories. And for what was our end goal?

But then I saw you. You were just a small moth, hands pressed against your core to protect your flame from going out. I reached out to you and shared my light with you, bringing life to my perception of you.

I offered my hand, and you took it. Your own hand trembled as I bore the brunt of the wind and rocks. More than once your grip loosened only to be violently ripped away from me. I tumbled back to catch you, share more light, ask if you were alright.

“Please hold on tight. The winds will blow you back, and the red rocks crave for your flame.” I still remember my voice trembling behind my brave facade, for I had never led any of you here before.

“Why are there so many monsters?” you asked as a dark dragon — I said it was a giant, angry shrimp to make you laugh — clattered over our hiding spot. “I don’t like it here.”

“I don’t either,” I said as I pointed to a lantern and asked you to light it. The wind picked up and you ducked behind the solid structure as rocks battered against it. You were learning, and I had cared too much for you now to permanently stay in Orbit. “But we do it to visit some long-gone friends.”

“But I don’t have any friends.”

“When you do, they’ll all be waiting up there for you.”

In the falsely safe hallway of winged light, you murmured, “I don’t wanna go forward.”

“Why?”

“You might leave me. Like everyone else.”

I stopped the dull trudge forward. “I promise I won’t. Once it’s all over, I’ll teach you everything I know. I’ll teach you the flying route in Eden — ”

“You can fly here?”

I laughed at your enthusiasm, and I immediately itched to teach you more.

#Ima Writes #writing #original writing #sky cotl #sky children of the light #original work #sky cotl eden #my writing

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dwtdog · 11 months

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If you're still taking karlnapity/quacknap requests, can you write something domestic with a farm setting? It can be fully karlnapity or quacknap. Whichever you're feeling :) (also sorry if the request comes in multiple time, I kept getting error messages)

thank you so much for the request :DDD

I finally got it done, and it got away from me a bit, oops:

Quacknap early mornings on the farm, soft and domestic and very fluffy <3 (also very rough and unedited </3)

If anyone wants to send requests I'm still taking them, just might take me a bit to post them :)))

edit to add: ao3 link

Quackity wakes slowly, a combination of light creeping into the room and the noise of stirring animals rousing him from pleasant dreams of nothing in particular. Mornings are warm, lazy in a way that leaves him feeling ready to start the day by the time he does finally roll out of bed.

On this particular morning, he's woken up before his boyfriend, made obvious by the gentle snores he feels against his chest. Said boyfriend is a walking heated blanket, and they tend to sleep on top of the comforters when spring turns to summer. Quackity snuggles in closer, fully intending to drift back into dreamland, when one of their rowdiest chickens starts kicking up a fuss.

They have what Quackity likes to affectionately call 'A Lazy Farm,' or the kind that doesn't require waking up before the sun or chores that take all day. Or even living too far from a city, as he still has a business to attend run. Some days. He's the boss, if he only wants to work two days a week who's going to stop him? And he makes more than enough to provide for the two of them and their wildly unproductive farm, so most mornings are like this.

Until, of course, the roosters decide they want things their way.

They could never agree on names for the chickens, or the horses, or the houseplants (they were equally as deserving), so every living thing had a hyphenated name- one chosen by Sapnap, and one by Quackity. And on the exceedingly rare occasions when they agreed on a name, they would still hyphenate. For example, the rooster that was determined to ruin their quiet morning and secure his spot in the oven was George-George.

Quackity quietly curses whichever unfortunate hen had laid the egg that hatched that bastard, and prays to whatever god listens to nonbelievers that it won't wake his human pillow.

"I'm going to turn that fucker into an omelet." Sapnap mumbles, breath warm where his face is pressed to the top of Quackity's head.

"That's not how it works dumbass. Go back to sleep and you're only allowed to wake up when you remember how chickens work," He whispers into the golden air, wrapping his legs around one of Sapnap's and tightening his arms around his middle.

Sapnap shifts in his hold, pressing the side of his face further into a pillow in a futile attempt to escape the noise. "Ok bird boy, go tell your cousin to shut his trap or I'll prove that I can make an omelet out of anything." He punctuates his statement with a gentle brush over the hair near Quackity's ears, where small tufts of yellow feathers grow.

Quackity leans into the feeling, ignoring the comparison to a goddamn chicken (even if hybrids could be related to animals, he was a duck not a chicken, thank you very much), silently asking his partner to continue petting him.

They let the conversation drift off into the not-so-silent air, with George-George still crowing and rousing the rest of the animals with him. Sapnap happily complies with the request, careful fingers threading through long dark hair and contrastingly bright feathers, always so, so careful in his ministrations.

The world goes pleasantly dark as Quackity lets his blinks grow longer and longer, eventually falling into a light sleep to the repetitive motion and the small shivers of pleasure it sends through his limbs.

When he wakes again, it's to Sapnap attempting to escape the circle of his arms.

"No," he grumbles, voice low and raspy from sleep.

His hostage groans, but gives in quickly, wrapping his own arms around Quackity tightly enough that it's unclear who's holding who. He intentionally avoids putting too much pressure against delicate wings, and Quackity can't help but to smile into Sapnap's chest.

"That's what I thought," he speaks again, feeling the way bare skin twitches as warm breath ghosts across it.

"You only love me for my demonic warmth," Sapnap pouts back, his voice also rough from sleep.

"And your demonic attractive-ness," Quackity giggles, drawing in a sharp breath when Sapnap pinches his side, right beneath his ribs.

"Shut up," he says, switching to pokes as Quackity tries to squirm away from him without releasing his hold.

They must look ridiculous then, shaking off the last dregs of sleep with a playful fight, pinshing and poking and tickling without releasing arms from waists or untangling their legs. It's a tribute to the truth that underpins their relationship; the way they fit together and never want to let go but will always be the first to tease or prod the other, until they may as well be the only two people left in the universe. Caught in the orbit of warm mornings, a planet and its moon forever moving in tandem.

It's only when Sapnap manages to catch his hands that Quackity takes action, moving so he's finally face to face with his lover.

Sapnap's eyes are gorgeous in the morning light. Quackity has tried to describe them before, in an attempt to annoy George (the man, not the chicken), although there was always a touch too much fondness in his voice for even George to be mad at him. He would pretend, say it was gross to hear anyone be all lovey-dovey about Sapnap, but Quackity new George was happy for them.

His eyes were dark, black in the way the night sky is. And like the aurora borealis on northern nights, flashes of red were prominent in them when one looked hard enough, or the sun hit just right, or if he was in the midst of a fun battle. Quackity could look into them forever and find new things to wax poetic about, but he hadn't moved from his favorite spot (as close to Sapnap's chest as possible, tied closely with his lap) for only his eyes.

They breath each other in for a moment, before Quackity darts his eyes to plush lips like a teenager hoping for their first kiss. Sapnap gets an evil little grin to his face, knowing he's about to have more ammunition for their ever-ongoing argument about the merits of kissing with morning breath. Quackity will argue his side, it's gross, until he dies, but he can never resist when Sapnap is right there, and he doesn't want to wait until after they've brushed their teeth or whatever.

He leans in first, and Sapnap lets him come, not moving at all. Quackity bites at his lower lip in protest, and they both giggle before their mouths fully meet. The angle is bad, they both can't stop breaking away to laugh, and the cursed morning breath is ever present, but Quackity thinks this might be the best kiss of his life. How could it not be, if Sapnap's the one he's kissing? You can't expect him to think any is worse than the last.

The kiss is lazy and simple as the sun fully crests over the horizon. When George-George let's out a particularly ludicrous cry, they both break apart to laugh, warmth spilling into the warm air and warm morning and Quackity thinks he doesn't need any other words ever again. Everything can just be warm for the rest of eternity and he'll be happy.

Of course, it's then that Sapnap leaves him. Yes, cruelly, unjustly, leaving him to die and succumb to the cold. He slips out of bed before Quackity even has a chance to react, fully awake as he makes a beeline for the bathroom. He sighs, left alone in the fading heat of the bed, his source lost to the world.

He gives Sapnap a few minutes alone, before the urge to be close wins over, and Quackity follows. The bathroom door is only lightly closed, falling open with a gentle push. Sapnap stands at the sink, brushing his teeth. He smiles into the mirror as Quackity rewraps his arms around his waist, pushing his face into his back. The gentle motion of his muscles through the rhythmic movements of brushing are nice, and Quackity accepts his own tooth brush when Sapnap offers it.

They stand, pressed close together, in their small bathroom on the farm they bought with the money Quackity had earned through long nights of studying in school and stressful meetings and convincing men in suits that he wasn't just some dumb kid. This was theirs, for as long as they wanted it.

Eventually, they leave the bathroom, hands linked, breaths much more pleasant. The kitchen is downstairs, and neither lets go even as they have to turn awkwardly to maneuver through the narrow stairwell.

They have eggs for breakfast, Sapnap cooking and Quackity happy as a clam, pressed to his back. The eggs are all from their farm, and none have chicken in them, even as Sapnap shakes whatever he's holding threateningly in the direction of the chicken coop every time George-George makes a sound.

They eat quietly, neither committing fully to sitting down, instead electing to stay pressed side to side, leaning against the counter. Quackity likes his eggs runny, which Sapnap says is a crime against humanity, and then they'll argue the ethics of Quackity even eating eggs in the first place. Quackity wins their arguments most of the time, putting his law school training to good use. Sapnap wins sometimes, usually by saying something so ridiculous Quackity has no choice but to kiss his stupid face.

"Thanks for breakfast hot cakes," he says, pressing a kiss to the side of Sapnap's face.

"That one sucks," Sapnap replies, finishing the last of his eggs.

"Why do you hate all the ones with puns," Quackity whines, the ongoing pet name struggle rearing its head.

"They're too easy," he says in response, moving from Quackity's side to place his own dish in the sink.

Quackity follows, rinsing both their plates as Sapnap stays close. "Well you always cheat." he jabs his elbow into Sapnap's side to emphasize his words, reaching for a towel to dry the now clean dishes.

"What are you talking about darlin'? I would never cheat!" Sapnap leans in close to his ear, letting his country drawl loose on the name.

Quackity flicks water at him, then pats his own cheeks with damp hands to chase the inevitable blush away. He doesn't even know where Sapnap got that stupid accent, neither of his dads sounds anything like it. It's so not fair.

"Fuck you! Fuck you, I hate you, I'm putting George-George in your pillows tommorrow!" Quackity waves the towel around dramatically, hands now dry. Sapnap is just out of reach, holding on to a chair from how hard he's laughing.

Quackity continues swearing at him as he cleans the pan used to make the eggs, explaining with as many expletives as possible his plan to replace Sapnap with the rooster and to let the bastard destroy everything he loves.

Sapnap watches him with the sappiest expression the whole time, and Quackity ignores how it makes the blush return to his cheeks as he focuses on scrubbing every crumb off the metal surface and thinking of every English swear he knows.

He saves the Spanish for the chickens.

When he's finally done, both with his long-winded threats and the dishes, Sapnap has moved and stands close behind him. He hasnt't realized, too caught up in intentionally ignoring him, and jumps slightly when he takes up the position Quackity had had on him all morning.

"Don't you dare-" he starts, relaxing in the hold even as he protests.

Sapnap cuts him off, moving them both so they're face to face again. "Think of the animals sweetheart, we can put our differences aside for them, can't we?"

And the combination of the accent and his eyes so close is more than enough to break Quackity. He pulls his dumb boyfriend into another kiss, this one deeper than the first.

Sapnap, curse him, doesn't let him get away with the distraction for long, pulling away after a few moments and pulling their hands together.

Quackity sighs, finally resigned to actually starting the day. All of the chickens have started making noise, and even the horses have gotten in on the fuss, distant whinnies reaching into the kitchen.

#quacknap #quackity #sapnap #cquacknap #csapnap #cquackity #i mean its definitely based on their characters and not the real people so idk #my writing #requests #<- new tag that i hopefully will use 🙏#also planning to post this to ao3 so ill add the link when i do smiles

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eastwindmlk · 5 months

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Wrapping presents had always been a competition in Evan's household, and when Lily got married, she took that little bit with her. The only thing different about this year was the fact that James had offered to help her. To make it a date of sorts. They had dropped little Harry off at Sirius’s, under the expert supervision of Remus. They made plenty of promises that they would call the moment the toddler became impossible. Something both of them swore would never happen. Because he was far too well-behaved for that. A crash from the kitchen punctuated the comment as Sirius scrambled up to investigate. Leaving Remus to shoo them out.

They spent the entire walk home in tense silence, neither of them wanting to admit that they, in fact, were a little worried. Not so much for Harry. The toddler was as hardy as could be. Though, once settled on the floor with a glass of wine and a mountain of presents, those worries vanished.

“Are you sure these are it?” James posed, looking a little sceptically at the pile, while Lily nodded gleefully. “We are not accidentally wrapping up half of our own household." The redhead laughed and swatted at his arm. “James! It isn’t even that much.” She cooed, rubbing her hands together excitedly before reaching for the first gift.

“You got the list?” Making him scramble on all fours to the coffee table they’d put aside. Laughing as she spanked him with a tube of wrapping paper. Reaching out for her notebook and holding it up triumphantly. “List!” James announced, sitting back on his haunches and tumbling to the list of gifts. “So…” He mused, his finger running down the page. “That is a... what even is that?” He eyed the box suspiciously.

Giving him an unamused look, she shook the box at him. As if that were going to tell him more. “It is an immersion blender,” Lily started carefully, hoping he would be able to find it, to little avail. “For your mother.” He snapped his fingers at her, as if he remembered. “Right, emergency blender for mom." Meeting her deadpan expression with a bright grin. “We were using the blue and silver paper for them, right?"

Lily handed the roll of blue and silver over as a confirmation. “Think you can handle this one?” Now it was her turn to be sceptical while James snipped two pairs of scissors like crab claws. “Your lack of faith in me is disheartening, love. I can wrap this!” He laughed as the roll of wrapping paper once again attacked him while he brandished the box.

“I trust you to make it look good. I’ll just get that box set for Remus wrapped.” She grunted as she lifted the box with heavy tomes and placed it in front of her. “Are you going to gift him those, or are you going to murder him with them?” The sound of him gliding through the paper emphasised the word murder, and he was glancing sideways at the redhead. She was clutching her pair of scissors tightly, her eyes fixed on the piece of paper he’d cut. “That is barely big enough for the box, James. Can you please pay attention to what you’re doing?” Her voice clipped, and her lips pressed together tight.

Giving it a little try, James came to the same conclusion as she had. “Right, I can make it fit, though!” I just need a little extra tape,” he assured, clamping the scissors between his teeth. Impatiently trying to find the start of the scotch tape. He glared at the little roll of tape until his nail finally caught the beginning. Pulling it out and sticking it to his arm was a good start. Cutting several pieces of tape, all of different lengths. Something that aggravated Lily more

Burying her face in her hands, she took a deep breath, trying to settle herself. “James, could you please take this seriously?” She held up her finger to glare at him. “If you make a joke about being James, not Sirius, I am going to stab you.” She shook the scissors in her hand to make her point.

Ducking his head, James nodded quickly and carefully reached out to lower the weapon she had chosen. “Everything okay, darling?” He asked carefully, taking a deep breath, hoping she would mimic him. Calm her down a little, he hoped. “This is very important to me, and you are just making a mess. You can’t cut tape, you can’t measure paper. At this point, I’m fully convinced you never graduated kindergarten."

The smile slowly faded from his face, making way for a look of understanding. Nodding slowly, he bent forward, sticking a piece of tape to her nose and using her confusion to pull her into a hug. “I am sorry,” James mumbled into her ear, placing a kiss into her hair and turning back to his present to wrap. Putting the too-small piece away for something that would fit and carefully restarting.

Neatly tying the bow around the packed box and presenting it to Lily.

“Emergency blender for mum!”

#jily #31prompts #jilytober #jily fic #jilytober2023 #jily fanfiction #jilytoberfest2023 #christmas fluff #jple #james x lily #repost #james potter #lily evans

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