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proxima-writes · 6 months

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title: my tears ricochet | part i

pairing: husband's best friend!joel miller x female reader

rating: chapter - t; full work - explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 7k

summary: after moving from new york to texas with your fiance, you expect to jump right into wedding planning with his help. when he claims to be too busy, he suggests asking his best friend, joel miller, to help you instead.

you weren't supposed to fall in love with him.

author's note: this story is a three part fic inspired by the song "my tears ricochet" by taylor swift. this first part is reader's POV, part two will be joel's POV, and the third part will be dual POV. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

chapter tags: modern au, infidelity, emotional abuse, the fiance is shitty, no use of y/n, single POV (reader), wedding dress shopping and other wedding planning activities, angst, arguing, alcohol consumption/mention, kissing, no smut. please let me know if i've missed any!

major work tags: modern au, infidelity, explicit sexual content, character death

You stare out at the manicured yard, watching as guests move about the grounds and waiters in black uniforms carry trays of food and drinks through the crowd. Your boyfriend -- wait, no, fiancé -- Alex laughs boisterously with your father, a hand on his back in easy familiarity. You know you should be down there with him given that this is your engagement party, but you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the constant smiling and greeting strangers and showing off your shiny new engagement ring that you needed a break.

The door opens and a man you don't recognize steps into the room, pale blue dress shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and a pair of wrinkled dress pants. He runs a hand through his messy dark curls.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be in here," he says. As he looks you over, his brown eyes go wide with surprise. "Shit, you're the bride!"

You smile at him. "That's me," you reply. You hold a hand out towards him as you give him your name, his rough palm sliding against yours as he grips it firmly.

"I'm Joel Miller," he tells you. You know the name well, being that he's your fiancé's best friend. "Didn't mean to make our first time meetin' so awkward."

"No, no, it's not your fault. I've just been feeling a little overwhelmed with all the," you wave your hand towards the window, "festivities. It's great to finally meet you."

"I don't blame ya. They can get pretty stuffy down there. Congrats, by the way."

"Thank you." He lets go of your hand. "So, why are you hiding?"

He laughs, deep and full bellied. "Alex's mom doesn't like me much. I'm sure she was hopin' that we would stop bein' friends when he went to school on the other side of the country, but I’m like a stubborn tick."

"How could she not like you, Alex told me that the two of you have been best friends since kindergarten!"

"There may have been a few mishaps in high school," he says. "You ever tried eggin' your principal's house?"

"Can't say that I have," you reply.

"Well, it doesn't end well if you get caught." He looks out the window with a smile on his face. "We got arrested. Alex's dad had to bail us out. Probably had to throw some hush money around so that it wouldn't show up on his record when he applied to school."

"He's never told me that!" You say, laughing hard enough around the words that your stomach hurts.

The door opens and this time, Alex himself steps into the room. His serious expression morphs into a smile when he sees you and Joel.

"There you are," he says, crossing the room to kiss your cheek. He greets Joel with a hug, patting his back roughly. "What are you two doing in here?"

"I just needed a minute alone," you tell him.

"And I crashed her minute alone. Told her about the time we got arrested in high school," Joel adds. Alex's jaw tenses, his smile tight as his eyes flick to you, like he's worried about your reaction. "She laughed. It's all good."

"Right. Well, I came to find you because its time for the toast and dinner," Alex says. "Let's get back down to our guests."

A hand at the small of your back urges you towards the door before you can reply.

"Alex, are you listening to me?" You ask. Your fiancé looks up from his phone.

"I'm sorry, baby, I was finishing an e-mail," he says. He sets his phone down on the table, dark screen facing up, and gives you his full attention. "What were you saying?"

"I wanted to schedule the cake tasting. Do you have any free time this week?"

He grimaces. "I don't think I do, sweetheart. Your dad's got my schedule pretty packed."

"I can just ask him to--"

"No," he says sternly. "You know I have to make a good impression with the rest of the firm."

"But--"

"Babe, no. I can't do this week. Why don't you ask my mom? Or Joel?"

While your future mother-in-law is kind enough, you don't have much patience for the way she tries to take control of your wedding planning. Joel, however, might be a good idea. He knows Alex well enough to be a stand in for a decision like cake and icing flavors.

"Could you give me Joel's number?"

Alex smiles, seemingly pleased that he's off the hook as he takes his phone in hand and sends you his best friend's phone number.

You meet Joel at the bakery that week. To your surprise he's there before you, dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt and he smiles brightly at you as you approach.

"Hey," he says. "Ready to eat some cake?"

"I think this will be my favorite part of planning this whole wedding," you reply. He laughs as he pulls the door open for you to step inside, following in behind you.

"Welcome to Buttercup Bakery! Can I help y'all with anything?" A young woman with a name tag reading BEVERLY asks from behind the counter, pink and white apron tied around her waist.

"I have a cake tasting appointment," you reply, giving her your name for the reservation.

"Excellent! If you want to go ahead and take a seat anywhere you'd like, I'll bring out the tasting options and we'll get you squared away in no time!"

She disappears through swinging doors as you and Joel take a seat at a pink acrylic table with matching chairs. He looks around the shop with interest.

"What made you pick this place?" He asks.

"Had the best reviews," you say with a shrug. His brow furrows.

"Alex didn't suggest it? He helpin' you at all with this weddin'?"

He says it with a laugh, but the question makes you dig your fingernails into your palm. "He's just really busy with work. I've been doing a lot of the planning."

“What about your uh, what are they called? Bridesmaids?”

“They’re all back in New York. It’s just me.”

“I thought your parents were here, too? Isn’t Alex workin’ with your dad now?”

“It’s just my dad, he’s back in New York. His partner opened a firm in Austin and Alex is working with that office. He’s hoping to make partner soon, too.”

Joel nods, eyes scanning your face but you keep your expression as neutral as possible. The swinging doors open and Beverly returns with a marble tray, bites of cake artfully arranged on the surface. She sets it on the table between you and Joel.

“Okay! These are our six most popular flavor combinations for you to start with and if there’s something more custom you have in mind, we can totally make that happen,” she says. “Starting at the top, we have classic vanilla with vanilla buttercream, chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and chocolate buttercream, our signature champagne cake with strawberry buttercream, lemon cake with lavender buttercream, caramel cake with caramel mocha buttercream, and white chocolate cake with raspberry jam and white chocolate raspberry buttercream.”

Joel grins at you. “This might be the best thing anyone has ever asked me to help with.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Beverly says with a wink, walking back to the counter.

“I don’t know which to start with,” you say, eyes scanning the selections.

“That chocolate one is callin’ my name,” Joel replies, spearing one of the chocolate cake bites with a fork and taking a bite. He hums appreciatively. “Oh yeah, that one is a winner.”

You choose the vanilla to start, taking a bite of the moist cake with buttercream that tastes strongly of vanilla bean with a hint of cinnamon. The simplicity makes it good, but overall the flavor doesn't stand out to you. Joel continues to take bites seemingly at random while you opt to go around the tray in the order that Beverly introduced the flavors.

"Any of them stickin' out to you?" Joel asks when you've reached the half-way point.

"They're all delicious," you reply. "I think Alex would probably like the vanilla best, though."

"I didn't ask what Alex would like, I asked if there were any that you liked." He spears the remaining piece of white chocolate raspberry with his fork and holds it up to you. "Here, try this one next."

You eye the fork dubiously. "I don't think--"

Joel slips the bite of cake into your mouth despite your interrupted disagreement, smiling at you triumphantly. You chew the bite begrudgingly.

"I think that one and the chocolate one are my favorite," Joel says as you swallow.

Beverly returns at that moment, a notepad in hand as she pulls up a third chair to the tiny bistro table.

“So? What are your thoughts?”

“I think I’m going to get the vanilla,” you tell her. Joel’s jaw ticks, almost like he’s upset you’ve chosen the flavor that you said Alex would like. “But, could I get alternating tiers of the white chocolate raspberry, too?”

Joel’s lips quirk up in a small smile and you try to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.

Joel: Have you picked flowers yet?

Not yet.

Joel: I know a place. You busy today?

You stare the at the message in surprise. You weren’t expecting to hear from Joel again, but his name on your screen has you fighting back a smile.

I’m not busy. When did you want to go?

Joel: They open at noon. Here’s the address.

“Baby, have you seen my blue tie?” Alex calls from upstairs. You drop your phone to the counter like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

“Which one?” You reply, pressing a hand to your chest.

“The plaid one!”

“Should be in your tie drawer!”

“It’s not here!”

You pinch your nose, making your way to the stairs to join him in your shared bedroom. He’s standing in front of his tie drawer, hands on his hips as he stares at the contents. You peek over his shoulder and reach into the back, pulling out the neatly folded blue and green patterned tie.

He takes it from your hand. “That one should be towards the front. Can you remember that next time you put away dry cleaning?”

“Sure.” You bite your lip to hold back the sigh that threatens to spill. “You want me to tie it for you?”

“No, thanks, I need it to be perfect. Big meeting,” he says, his lips tilted in a smile that feels condescending. He leans into you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you murmur, watching his back as he enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

Joel is waiting outside of a dark green storefront when you arrive at the address he’d sent you. He smiles when he sees you, a true one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and it gives you this strange feeling of emptiness because you can’t remember the last time Alex smiled at you like that.

When you’re close enough, he pulls you into a hug that envelops you in strong arms and the scent of woods at nightfall with a hint of citrus. Your eyes flutter shut as you hug him back and breathe him in.

He releases you and immediately you feel a chill in losing his warmth despite the oppressive Texas heat. You look at the shop as he steps back, taking in the gorgeous floral arrangements in the window and cursive script painted on the glass that says PETAL TO THE METAL.

Joel opens the door to the shop, a brass bell ringing to announce your entrance. A man at the counter in the center of the store looks up and grins at you both.

“Joel! Nice to see you,” the man says. You watch as they shake hands with familiarity, the man behind the counter smiling kindly. “You must be the bride. I’m Frank.”

You give Joel a look of surprise before introducing yourself and shaking Frank’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you two know each other?”

“Joel’s an old friend of ours.”

“Ours?”

A back door bangs open, someone emerging with their arms so full of potted plants you can’t see their face. A deep voice let’s out a series of curses.

“This is my partner, Bill,” Frank says. “He’s not much of a people person. Great with plants, though.”

“A little help would be nice,” Bill grunts. Frank rolls his eyes but leaves the counter to take a couple pots from Bill’s hands, revealing a man with long brown hair and a grizzled expression hidden amongst a thick beard. Frank leans in and kisses his cheek.

“You need only ask,” Frank says. Bill’s cheeks turn pink beneath his thick facial hair. Despite the annoyed expression on his face, his eyes are soft as he watches Frank. “Let me grab you the event portfolio and we can talk about your wedding. Have a look around.”

As Frank leaves and Bill busies himself arranging the new plants, you and Joel wander the shop and take in aisles and shelves of different flowers with little gold name cards in their pots or on their buckets.

“So,” Joel says, “How are you liking Austin?”

“It’s…hot,” you reply. “Really, really hot.”

“That’s the south for ya, sweetheart.”

Your face grows hot at the endearment and how it seemed to just roll off his tongue. “Have you lived in Austin your whole life?”

“Texas born n’ bred,” he says proudly, puffing his chest out.

“You never wanted to live anywhere else?”

“I’ve always thought Wyoming sounded nice. A farm that I built, some sheep, no neighbors for miles,” he says wistfully. “Maybe someday.”

“Building a farm, huh? You good with your hands, Joel?”

He blinks at you. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m a contractor. I gotta be.”

“That’s impressive,” you tell him, biting your lip to hold back your laughter at his flustered response.

Frank approaches, lifting a heavy book in his hands. “You ready to pick some flowers?”

Joel holds the door open for you as the two of you leave the flower shop an hour later. He waves goodbye to Bill and Frank with a promise to visit them for dinner soon before following you down the sidewalk.

“You wanna get lunch?” Joel offers. “My treat.”

You pull your phone from your pocket to check your messages and finding none from Alex, you think to yourself, why not?

“Sure,” you agree.

That's how you find yourself sitting on a bench in the park with Joel Miller, your husband's best friend, talking to him about everything and nothing as you eat street tacos from a food truck nearby. He makes you laugh so hard you choke on birria, the sauce dripping down your chin. He reaches out, wiping the mess with a brown napkin while he smiles so bright it puts the sun to shame.

Later that night, while you're in bed, you can't help but think today was the best day you've had in a long time.

And you're not sure what that means.

You begin texting Joel regularly. You ask him for his opinion on things that Alex can’t be bothered with — the suit colors for the groomsmen (navy blue), the invitation stationary (the linen finish), and favors (miniature bottles of hot sauce - Joel assures you this will be a hit with the Texas crowd). In between those conversations, he sends you pictures from his construction sites or asks you how your day has been and whether you had gotten the chance to check out that show he recommended.

When you tell Alex about the wedding decisions you've made, leaving out the extent of Joel's help, he hums and nods at the appropriate intervals, feigning attentiveness while his thumb moves rapidly across his phone screen. It should bother you, you think, that your future husband is so uninvolved with planning his own wedding, but then your own phone lights up with Joel’s name and a goofy photo he sent from a construction site, his hard hat askew on his head and his eyes crossed, and your annoyance with Alex fades into background noise.

There’s one last item on your checklist that you’re more nervous to ask Joel for help with than the others — dress shopping. You could probably fly back to New York and be with your friends for the momentous occasion but you’re certain that Alex wouldn’t appreciate your absence for something he considers so frivolous.

Not that you say anything when he’s gone for his golfing trips.

You’re staring at Joel’s contact screen, working up the nerve to call him and ask him if he’d be willing to come dress shopping with you, when it lights up with an incoming call, his name at the top of the screen like just your thoughts summoned him. You answer on the third ring.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” you tell him.

“So that’s why my ears were itchin’,” he laughs. “You need somethin’?”

You take a steadying breath. “I just have one more thing I need help with and then you won’t have to deal with me.”

“I don’t mind helpin’ you, sweetheart.” You stomach flutters at the nickname and he clears his throat to fill the loaded silence that follows his words. “Now, tell me what you need.”

“Could you come dress shopping with me?”

“That all? Just tell me where and when,” he says. You breathe a sigh of relief, giving him the details of the appointment you made at a local boutique. He promises to meet you there this weekend before hanging up.

The word sweetheart in Joel’s deep voice echoes through your mind for the rest of the day.

Joel looks hilariously out of place on the pristine white couch located in the middle of the dress boutique, a dainty glass of champagne held in his large hand. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you watch the sales associate flit around the store, pulling hangers of dresses from the racks.

“That’s a lot of dresses,” Joel comments, taking a sip of champagne.

“You not up for the challenge?” You tease. He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his wide smile.

“Trust me, I’m up for the challenge. We’re goin’ to find you the best damn weddin’ dress Texas has ever seen,” he promises.

“Alright, I’ve got some gorgeous choices here for you,” the associate announces, holding up a handful of ivory hangers draped in all types of fabric from satin to chiffon. “You wanna follow me and we’ll get started?”

You follow her to the fitting room and she sets the hangers on a rack, fanning out the dresses so that you can get a better look. There’s five of them in a variety of styles, including an impressive ball gown boasting layers of tulle that trails to the floor.

“I’ll try that one first,” you tell her, pointing to ball gown.

“What’s your fiancé’s name?” She asks as you undress, taking the gown from the hanger and arranging it on the floor for you to step into it.

“Alex,” you reply. She drags the bodice up and instructs you to hold it to your chest while she laces up the corset back.

“I think it’s sweet that you’ve brought him with you.”

“Oh, no. That’s Joel, he’s my husband’s best friend.”

“Really?” She asks, the strings tightening around your waist. “The way you two look at each other, I would have bet money he was the one marrying you." You're about to ask what she means when she finishes tying off the bodice and says, "Wow, this dress is stunning on you."

Her comment retreats to the back of your mind as you look at yourself in the mirror. The strapless white gown hugs your chest and waist, flaring out into a layered skirt with lace appliques. There's beading on the sweetheart neckline that trails down the bodice in intricate patterns that catch the light of the fitting room. The dress is stunning.

Marnie leads you back out to the showroom, helping you step up onto a raised platform in front of a trifold mirror that shows you your reflection from multiple angles. You twist and turn, taking in all the details of it before finally facing Joel.

"Damn," Joel says. "That sure is one hell of a dress."

"It's...a lot." You twist your hips from side to side, the heavy skirt swishing across the floor. "I feel like a cupcake and I don't know if I'll be able to dance in it."

"You wanna test it out?"

He's standing before you can respond, reaching a hand into yours to guide you down from the pedestal. When you're on the floor, he wraps an arm around your low back, pulling you close while swaying side to side.

The world around you goes a little blurry and the only thing in perfect clarity is Joel. The feel of his hand in yours, the weight of his arm at the small of your back, the clean smell of soap and citrus, everything is just....Joel.

"How's it feel?" He asks, voice low. You tilt your head back to look up at his face.

"Huh?"

"The dress...dancin'...how's it feel?"

The question drags you back to reality, where you're currently dancing around a bridal salon with a man who isn't your fiance. You pull away from him, returning to the pedestal as the bridal associate joins the two of you again.

"Uh...I don't think this is the dress for me. Can we try the next one?"

You try on two other dresses in quick succession, neither of them leaving a lasting impression. It's the fourth dress that really gives you pause as you look at yourself in the fitting room mirror.

"Honey," the associate says, adjusting the off-the-shoulder sleeves of the dress, "This dress was made for you."

The scooped neckline highlights the lines and curves of your neck and shoulders, the corset bodice hugging your curves in satin folds. The skirt fans out from the waist, similar to the silhouette of the ball gown without all the additional weight and fabric and a thigh high slit allows for some extra movement.

She leads you back out into the showroom and helps you once more onto the pedestal. You grin at your reflection as she fixes the skirt into place.

"Well?" You ask, catching Joel's eye in the mirror. His mouth is set in a serious line, brows pinched together and his arms crossed over his chest. You own smile falters. "You don't like it? What's with the look?"

He shakes his head, his serious expression morphing into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You look..." His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "Alex is a lucky son of a bitch."

You laugh, lifting the skirt so that you can step off the pedestal. Joel's eyes drop, his gaze fixing on the skirt as you walk towards him.

"You think so?" You ask quietly, stepping in close.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he murmurs. A single finger runs down your arm, goosebumps erupting over your skin in its wake. "I know so."

With the wedding plans finalized, your attention returns to your work as a web design consultant. Your client portfolio starts to build once more, keeping you busy in the months leading up to your big day. Alex remains focused on his work at the firm, working long days and longer nights that have him arriving home well after you've gone to bed, the two of you just ships passing in the dark. You would feel lonely, you think, if not for Joel.

The two of you still message each other frequently, though you don't see him again until a month before the wedding, when Alex invites him over for dinner one Saturday night.

The doorbell rings just as you put the chicken in the oven and you wipe your hands before going to answer it, your heart racing. Joel's sweet smile greets you when you open the door and seeing him across the threshold has the tension in your shoulders easing the slightest bit.

He steps across the threshold, strong arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hug. Footsteps on the stairs have him releasing you far sooner than you would have liked.

"Joel, my man! Glad you could make it," Alex says as he reaches the first floor. "Honey, is the table set?"

"No, not yet," you reply.

"You need any help?" Joel asks. You open your mouth to respond, but Alex jumps in to say, "No, she's got this. Let me give you the tour."

You watch as Alex leads Joel upstairs, commanding his friend's attention. You swallow down the anger that rises in your throat at your fiancé's dismissal and return to the kitchen, gathering the place settings and arranging the table to his liking.

"It's a nice place," Joel says as the two men enter the living room, which opens to the kitchen and dining areas.

"All that work finally paying off," Alex comments. You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to mention that you were the one who fronted the down payment for Alex's choice of home in Texas. The oven beeps and you pull out the chicken parmesan that had been baking.

"Smells good," Joel comments. You look up, catching his eye. A wordless understanding passes between you, a quiet appreciation that makes your blood run hot.

You plate the food while your fiancé uncorks a bottle of wine and pours it into the wine glasses at each place setting. Alex settles in at head of the table and Joel takes the seat to the left, leaving you with the seat to Alex's right, across from Joel.

The three of you make small talk between bites of dinner and sips of wine. Alex asks Joel about the contracting work he's been doing, Joel asks him about his work at the new office and how he's settling in, being back in his home state. It's halfway through dinner that Joel looks to you and asks, "Are you excited for the wedding next month?"

"Of course," you reply, fingers tangling in the cloth napkin resting across your lap. "Planning it was a labor of love."

"Right, thanks for helping her with the cake, man," Alex chimes in.

Joel chuckles. "Helped with a lot more than just the cake."

"What do you mean?" Alex asks, glancing between the two of you.

"Well, I helped get the flowers, the cake, pickin' out the stationary. Dress shoppin'," Joel clarifies. Your stomach drops as Alex's jaw grows tense, his brow pinched as he nods and pastes on a forced smile.

"Wow, I didn't realize you'd been so involved," Alex says. He removes the napkin from his lap, setting it on the table. "Would you excuse us for a second?"

Alex stands, looking down at you expectantly. You smile at him and Joel in turn, but the expression feels hollow and you taste bile in the back of your throat. As soon as you're on your feet, Alex has a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, urging you along behind him as he makes his way towards the stairs.

Once he's reached your shared bedroom, he turns to you, eyes filled with rage. “What the fuck is that about?”

“What do you mean?” You ask. He laughs, the sound devoid of any humor.

“He helped you pick out your dress?” Alex paces the length of the bedroom like a caged animal and for the first time in your relationship with him, a frisson of fear courses through your veins. “You can’t possibly be that fucking stupid?”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “You told me to ask him for his help!”

“With the cake!” Alex shouts. “Not the entire goddamn wedding! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“You weren’t exactly offering much help, Alex!”

His eyes narrow. “I thought you would be perfectly capable of planning shit on your own, but I guess that was giving you too much credit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask. “Why are you being such a fucking asshole right now?”

“Because you’re my fiancé, not Joel’s!” He steps in close, towering above you as he hisses, “Did you fuck him?”

“No!” You shout.

His eyes search yours and whatever he finds seems to extinguish his anger, his coiled muscles loosening. He grips your shoulders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you head back downstairs and I’ll stay up here for a minute to cool off, okay?”

The sudden switch leaves your head spinning but you manage to nod. Alex kisses your forehead and you take that as your cue to leave, escaping the confines of your room. In the hall, you grip the banister of the loft that overlooks the living room and take the first real breath in what feels like ages, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to calm your racing heart.

You return to the kitchen and Joel’s head snaps up when you enter. He rises from his seat at the table, rushing to your side.

“Are you okay?” He asks, low voice filled with concern, his brows pinched with worry. “What the fuck was that?”

“Just a misunderstanding,” you murmur, pushing past him.

“That’s bullshit,” he hisses. “Is he always like that?”

“Like what?” You sigh.

“An asshole. Yellin’ and threatenin’ you.” His fists are clenched at his sides. “He ever hit you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You take a deep breath, beating back the wave of tears pressing at the corners of your eyes. “He’s just got a lot going on with the move and work and the wedding.”

Joel is quiet, watching you with keen brown eyes that you, for once, wish weren’t focused on you. He steps close, voice low as he says, “Be honest with me, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine, Joel,” you tell him. The lie claws at your throat and sends your stomach into a tailspin. “I promise.”

Footsteps echo on the stairs and you step away from Joel, busying yourself with loading the dishwasher, clearing the counters, anything to keep your hands occupied and stop their shaking. Alex enters the kitchen with a sharp smile.

“Hey, man, sorry about that,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “I think we’re ready to call it a night. Ain’t that right, honey?”

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Alex as you smile and say, “Yeah, baby.”

“Let me walk you out, Joel,” Alex says. “Honey, say bye.”

“Goodbye, Joel.”

Joel: Hey

Joel: You having a good week?

Joel: Been a while. You doing okay?

Joel: You’ve been quiet

Joel: I need to know you’re okay.

Joel: Just let me know

Joel: Please

“Just two more days until you’re my wife,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to your lips. He smiles at you and you mirror the expression as best you can.

“I can't wait,” you reply.

"I gotta get going," Alex says. He presses a kiss to your cheek as he passes where you're sitting at the bar. "Love you."

"Love you," you repeat, out of reflex more than affection.

The front door slams shut and quiet settles over the house. All you want to do is crawl back into bed and pull the covers over your head in the hopes that it protects you from the way time continues to creep forward despite your uncertainties. Maybe, if you lay there long enough, time will move on without your involvement.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a heavy knock at the door. You’re not sure who it could be — your dad is scheduled to fly into town in the late afternoon and your friends arrive early tomorrow morning and you’re fairly certain you don’t have any deliveries scheduled. Sliding from the bar stool, you leave the kitchen to answer the door.

Joel stands on the other side of the threshold, haloed by the morning sun. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’re dreaming.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask.

“Can I come in?” He replies, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I need to talk to you.”

You step aside and allow him to enter the hallway, shutting the door behind him. You avoid his gaze as you return to the living room with him following behind you. The silence that settles between the two of you makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

"Why haven't you been talkin' to me?" Joel asks. He takes a step closer, brown eyes searching yours for an answer you try to keep hidden.

"I've been busy," you say.

"Cut the bullshit," he snaps, surprising you. "Is it because of what happened at dinner?"

"No," you reply. Joel must sense the brief hesitation, hear the weakness in your voice. His eyes go soft, full of pity, and you can't fucking stand it. "Don't look at me like that."

"Look, I've known Alex a long time, and all those years weren't exactly peachy," he says cryptically. "I love him like a brother but even family ain't without faults.” He steps in close, his hands cradling your face in a delicate grip. “Tell me this is what you want," he demands. "Tell me that you're happy with Alex. Tell me that there's nothin' here between us."

The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue, but nothing can bring them to life. Your heart beats a frantic rhythm against your ribcage, the rush of blood in your ears the only thing you can hear. He leans closer, eyes dropping to your lips and you know what's about to happen next but you can't bear the thought of stopping him as he closes the scant distance between your mouths.

For the briefest moment, you allow yourself the chance to just feel. No thoughts, no panic, no worry. Just Joel's warm lips moving against yours, the trace of his palm from you cheek to behind your head, pulling you closer even though you're already tightly pressed to him. It's slow and deep, like he's trying to convince you down to your marrow that this is where you're supposed to be.

But it's not.

You push him away and he doesn't fight you, but the look he gives you damn near shatters your resolve. His eyes are dark, jaw tense, hands flexing at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach out and pull you back, damn the consequences. Your eyes and throat burn with the effort of holding back the tears that threaten to spill.

"You need to leave," you whisper. "You can't do this, we can't do this. I'm getting married in two days, Joel!"

He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on the strands in frustration. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't lay awake at night thinkin' what a fuckin' asshole I am for fallin' in love with my best friend's fiancé?!" He shouts.

"This isn't love, Joel--"

"Don't," he snaps. "Don't you lie to me. I know it, you know it, hell, the fuckin' lady at the dress shop knew it!" He takes a deep breath. "I'm showin' you my whole hand here and you won't even lay down a goddamn card!"

"There is no card!" You shout.

"You kissed me back!" He counters.

You stare at each other for a long moment, like two scared, wounded animals. Eventually, one of you has to back down, retreat, lick their wounds until they've healed in a messy pattern of scar tissue that will serve as a painful reminder of what could have been.

Joel sighs, another pass of his hand through his hair as he says, "You know what? Fine." He turns to leave, the line of his shoulder lower, his head low.

A glutton for punishment, you call out, "Joel?"

"Yeah?" He asks, weary. Bone tired. You feel it, too.

"Will you still be there tomorrow?" You ask, unsure of which answer would be worse.

Another sigh. "Yeah. I'll be there."

The door slams shut behind him.

Your rehearsal dinner is torture.

This should be one of the happiest events of your life but all your energy is being directed at avoiding Joel like the plague. He moves through the crowd comfortably, having known many people in attendance for most of his life, and you feel like an unmoored boat, hoping a wave doesn't crash over you.

Alex sits beside you, drinking from a glass of whiskey as he talks to one of his uncles that has been praising him for landing the opportunity to work with such a prestigious law firm right after college. A dizzying rotation of people approach you through the night - friends who chatter excitedly about the big day tomorrow, aunts who ask when you think you'll have children, uncles who tell you that they're proud of you for landing such a successful, promising young man. It's those last comments that have you hiding a frown in your champagne glass.

It drags on forever, this constant stream of polite conversation and forced smiles. When you finally return to the hotel that you're staying at for the night, you start to feel like you can breathe again. You have a suite separate from Alex's for getting ready early in the morning and he walks you to your room, hand on your low back, a smile on his face.

"I'll see you in the morning," he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "My almost wife."

The sentiment has bile rising in your throat and as he turns to leave you're blurting the words, "I can't do this."

"Sweetheart, you're just nervous," he says, voice surprisingly calm. He squeezes your shoulders. "You just need to sleep it off and everything will be fine in the morning."

"No," you tell him, shaking your head. "No, it won't be fine."

His smile drops, like a mask has just been removed. "Where is this coming from? Everything was fine at the rehearsal."

"Everything was not fine at the rehearsal!"

Alex takes the room key from your hands, unlocked the door and ushering you inside. He flicks on the light to the sitting area and takes a seat on the couch.

"What's going on with you?" He asks, exasperation dripping from his words. "What do you mean the rehearsal wasn't fine? Did you not like the food or something?"

You stare at him incredulously. "The problem wasn't the food, Alex! The problem is us!"

"There's no problem with us," he says. "Unless there's something you want to tell me?"

"What do you mean?" You ask.

He stands, coming close. "Is this about Joel?"

"No!" You snap, perhaps too quickly. "This isn't about Joel."

"Then what is it? Because as far as I know, we're a perfectly happy couple."

"Perfectly happy? Alex, you didn't even help me plan this wedding. Not a single minute of it."

"Not this again," he groans. "Sweetheart, let it go. I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you need to hear?"

Your jaw aches with how hard your teeth grind together as he dismisses you so easily. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth steadies you enough to say, "I'm not marrying you."

"Baby, please," Alex says. For the first time, he sounds panicked. "Don't make any rash decisions, alright? Whatever this is, we can work through it. If I lose you, I lose everything."

Maybe he's right. Maybe the stress of the last few months has just caught up to you.

"Okay," you whisper. He breathes a sigh of relief and presses another kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he says. "Everything will be okay after tomorrow. You'll see."

You don't say anything back, and he doesn't wait around for a response. He leaves your suite, the click of the door shutting loud in the late night silence. You stand there for who knows how long, wondering if he's right. Would everything be alright after tomorrow? Could you sweep those lingering feelings for Joel to the side in favor of the life you'd been building for the last few years?

You know what the safe choice is, but is it the right choice?

It's the morning of your wedding day and you've been poked and prodded with makeup brushes and your hair has been perfectly styled for the occasion. Flashbulbs have been going off on the cameras that are documenting your special day, capturing moments like your bridesmaids helping you into your dress and your dad's first look, a handkerchief clutched in his hand as he smiled at you.

For the first time in hours, you're alone in your suite. The makeup artist and hair stylists have packed up and taken their leave and your friends are downstairs, waiting for the limousine. You told them you would be just a minute longer.

A soft knock at your door has you realizing that you may have taken too long and you shout an apology as you rush to answer it. But it's not one of your friends on the other side like you had expected.

It's Joel.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His hair is styled, curls smoothed and slicked back into submission. His white shirt is a stark contrast to his navy blue tuxedo, matching bow tie tight around his neck. His boutonnière is slightly crooked where it sits pinned to his jacket lapel. He looks you up and down with a small smile.

"You look beautiful," he says. He reaches for your hand, fingers tangling with yours. Never quite folding together, but never quite letting go, either.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Are you ready?" He asks. You wonder if he knows, if Alex told him or if he can just see it on your face.

"Yes."

It's a lie, one you've been repeating since your alarm went off this morning after a night of tossing and turning. His smile falters, but doesn't drop.

"Good, that's....good," he says. His hand leaves yours, and you feel like you've had an entire unspoken conversation that's left you both defeated. "Lets go get you married."

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

divider graphic by @saradika-graphics.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 3 months

Note

would you consider writing headcanons for percy and a mortal reader? like maybe someone he can’t help but fall for even though he’s afraid of putting them in danger given the differences in their worlds? i love your writing by the way!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x mortal! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x mortal! reader hcs warning: language, mentions of death and blood and all that gross stuff author's note: i thought this one was gonna be a pain in my but to write but it was actually so cutesy???? also the last line is brutal i know but i couldn't help myself. so good, love love love. hope you guys like it too!!

you guys met in school, obvi

percy was struggling to read the board and you could tell, silently sliding your notes over to him and pretending not to, just to save him the embarrassment

"thank you for...ya know," percy muttered once the teacher turned her back.

"of course. my eyes bug out sometimes too. we gotta look out for each other," the girl mused back, a soft smile on her face as she playfully winked at him.

his stomach instantly became an olympic athlete, doing flips and twists like nobody’s business

he knew it wouldn't work out though

she was, probably, just another mortal and he wasn't willing to put her life in danger

even if she was super cute

and sweet

and caring

did i mention cute? okay, just checking.

but, he indulged a little bit, allowing side conversations during class and sharing of lunches

but no more, he promised himself

and then he kissed her

yeah, that promise didn't last long

it was fine and he lied...a lot.

"oh, cute necklace! is that from like a summer camp or something?"

"something like that, yeah."

"you've got so many scars, percy. you must be like super clumsy."

"sooooo clumsy. ha..."

"you mind if i borrow this pen real quick? i just need to-"

"NO NOT THAT PEN- sorry, sorry, here’s another one. that ones, er, special."

he didn't want to lie, really, but he also didn't want to hurt her.

to know is to put her in danger

and he couldn't have that

she’d met his mom, obviously she was the most important thing in his life

not just anybody meets mrs. sally jackson

and then, while riding the subway on the way to the aquarium for a date, it happened.

becuase of course it did.

percy was holding onto the pole, his free hand firmly resting on her waist and holding her close and away from the creeps of the new york undergrounds

"percy...why's that guy staring at you like that?" the girl whispered up to him.

percy's eyes instantly darting in the direction she nodded to, ready to scare off anyone who dared to look at his girlfriend in the wrong way

but then he faltered, his shoulder's sinking and his brain working double time to figure out how to get her out of here safety and deal with the monster.

"peresus jackson. i think this is your stop," the man hissed, standing up from his seat and shoving aside new yorkers as he approached.

percy pushed y/n behind him, taking a protective stand as he dug riptide out of his pocket

"nope. we're going all the way madison today. nice try," percy replied, uncapping riptide.

"percy?! is that a sword?" y/n asked in her panic, causing percy to turn to her with a furrowed brow.

"you can see this?" he holds riptide up for emphasis

"yes! obviously!"

"hold that thought," he said before swinging at the monster.

all the other new yorkers quickly scrambled to one side of the train, whipping their phones out and recording.

y/n slapped these phones down with a glare, shaking her head at them.

she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but she wasn’t just gonna let them record percy with a sword. That would surely land him in juvie.

percy, once done with the monster, quickly grabbed hold of y/n wrist and pulled her out of the subway just as the doors slammed shut behind them.

he dragged her with him, running all the way until he found a secluded ally to duck into, his eyes rapidly looking around for more danger.

"percy, what's going on?! where did you get a sword?! why do you even carry that on you and why did that man want to kill you and-"

"are you okay?" percy whispered through her worried rant and she stopped, nodding up at him.

"y-yeah, i'm okay. are you?"

"i've fought worse."

"percy...what do you mean? be honest with me...please," she all but begged and percy hung his head, hoping to avoid this moment for his whole life.

"it's gonna sound crazy."

"tell me anyway."

so he did.

he told her everything, correcting every lie he told her, every half-truth.

she listened, nodding along and asking the occasional question, but mainly listening

"so, yeah, that's everything."

"what i'm hearing is my boyfriend is a total badass."

"that's what you got out of that?!?! not the whole 'half-god' thing?!?!?"

"i kinda already figured that. i mean, look at you-"

"shut up."

a few weeks later, while they were hanging out in percy's room and sally was making cookies for them, is when the reality of it all hit y/n.

"percy?" she whispered, causing the boy to pull his eyes from the movie that was on and look down at her.

"yeah?"

"am i...am i gonna be in, like, danger? with you?"

"honestly? yes. every second you spend with me is probably another year you lose from your life."

there was pause, percy swallowing thickly before opening his mouth to give her permission to leave, he'd understand. hades, he'd do the same.

"okay," she replied with a shrug, cuddling closer.

"you sure?" he pushed, thought he really didn't want her to change her mind.

"thirty seconds spent with you is worth thirty years without you to me. easily."

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #percy jackson x reader

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mikareo · 7 months

Note

megumi doing smth pls

⌗ THIRTEEN YEARS ₊ ˖ ་. megumi fushiguro x fem reader (2.6k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ 3 times megumi wants to tell you he loves you, and the 1 time he does.

contains; attack on titan au, marleyan!megumi, eldian!reader, aot spoilers!!! (season 4), forbidden lovers, fluff, angst, kissing, major character death, cannabalism? (titans), annie cameo! author's note; here u get an old draft (psa none of this will make sense if you haven't watched attack on titan!!!!)

i. what is love at first sight

it's almost human instinct; knowing which people are more likely to have good fortune. some are simply born with an advantage— these people having the freedom to walk along the river bank, skip flattened rocks down streams, and laugh with their peers. with families who shop in the market together, hand-in-hand with woven baskets strewn over their shoulders, and all the time in the world to live their lives to the absolute fullest as true freelancers facing the rising sun that sees tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.

but in the truth of it all...the sun doesn't shine on everyone.

there are countless amounts of souls who aren't as blessed as marleyans like megumi. souls entangled with the devil herself, ymir, a woman who singlehandedly birthed the 'race from hell'...which he's never fully agreed with. everyone he knows refers to eldians as humanity's sin, but it's not their fault their biology is simply different.

humans are humans, right? they've done no wrong by being born. especially the warrior candidate he's been staring at for the past hour from a distance. you can't be that bad. after all, you're beautiful.

okay, yes. he has a little crush. he can't help it! one day, he was minding his own business on a walk home from the lab, when gojo had the bright idea of sneaking a peak at the warrior training. that's when megumi first saw you and his world stopped. sure, you were covered in mud and crawling through trenches with a rifle strapped to your back; but that didn't make him any less awestruck. since then he's hidden himself in the same bush, week after week, just to get a glimpse of your face.

"she's a cutie. you've got good taste." okay, creepy.

megumi rolls his eyes, glancing up at his mentor who's the only person who knows of his little secret. "don't you have women to harass?"

"ouch, sassed by a ten year old. i see how it is." gojo chuckles, ruffling his black hair and crouching down to the younger boy's level. "you see her out there? she's killing it. i heard she's the top contender for the female."

"i hope so." his blue eyes are locked on you, watching as your focused expression turns to determination whilst helping your teammate off the ground. "she'll have a better chance of living that way."

"...and maybe your family will let you meet her."

ugh, his family. since he was six, the zenin's have raised him with their questionable values and ideals. as the leading researchers in the modern world, they've revolutionized how eldians are studied! at least that's what he's been told. to be frank, he doesn't care about the right or wrong battle they've propagandized to the rest of humanity. all he cares about is knowing your name and telling you how pretty your eyes are.

"i want to talk to her, at least once." his voice is quiet, but gojo hears.

"why? you wanna tell her you love her?"

he hates him so much.

"no!" megumi exclaims, pushing back the older man in defense. his cheeks are bright red from embarrassment and he can feel the flames emitting from them. "i just want to be her friend, that's all. why do you always make things so weird?"

it's amusing to gojo how his little friend is so flustered. usually megumi is a shy boy, keeping to himself and avoiding contact with his peers; but whenever the conversation topic is you, he seems to perk up...and gojo loves to tease a lovestruck kid.

"don't worry," he smirks, "you'll understand your feelings when you're older. you don't need to tell her quite yet that you love her."

love you?

"just shut up and let me watch." megumi grumbles, resting his head in his hands as you're jumping up and down after being praised by your captain. he wishes he could make you that happy one day. "it's not love, i'm serious."

he'll understand what love means when he gets older. for now, he'll just imagine confessing.

ii. what is love that is forbidden

you're a lot more annoying than he thought you'd be.

after having been selected as the new female titan, your ego is boasting with energy and won't stop boasting no matter how often megumi tells you to zip it. though he was excited to meet you, his thirteen year old self now wishes you'd give him a moment of peace. instead, you insist on following him around whenever and wherever you can and yapping his ear off with comments on everyone and everything about your day. please, just give him a break.

"uh, fushiguro..."

he sighs with exhaustion. "what?"

"i think i locked us in here."

dammit.

"you forgot the key?" he asks.

"i forgot the key." you confirm.

of course you did.

with an exhausted grumble, megumi settles himself on the cold, cement floor of the supply closet you'll both call home for the next few hours. it's both of your days off, but he'd wanted to prep his supplies for his training on monday; to which you, of course, invited yourself along for the ride. you'll stay out of the way. it's fine, he can just ignore you. that's what he told himself...though, it's impossible for him to ignore you.

it's likely that no one will visit the storage room until the evening time— with most of his colleagues at home with their families, cooking a warm meal with lamb and stew. it's also uncommon for any of the researchers to be in liberio on their off days. megumi's just the special kind that doesn't think he'll be plagued by breathing the same air as eldians.

"mind if i join you?" he knows you're asking a rhetorical question and you know he'd never reject you.

with a small plop, you take a seat next to him. he's used to your warmth by now— considering you to be an essential part of his every day, despite how much he enjoys complaining about you— and leans his head against yours. it's obvious that you're sleepy. though, you never indulge in conversations about your training, megumi is well aware of how overworked you are. he can't imagine fighting in wars at this age, especially wars in which you're fourteen meters tall and smashing through brick walls; which is why he tries his best to be there for you when you need him.

your life is a battlefield and he's the peaceful conclusion.

"you know..." the sound of your voice is faint, a great contrast to your usual noise and megumi can tell something is wrong. "when they find us here, they're going to think i kidnapped you."

"i mean what else would the zenin heir be doing with a titan shifter?" you start to choke on your words and he instinctively wraps his arms around you. "you don't need to comfort me, fushiguro. we both know i'm going to be punished after this. you can't apologize and make everything okay like usual."

to your surprise, his pointer finger touches your cheek and gently wipes away your running tears. "...fushiguro—"

"it won't always be like this." he interrupts you, cupping your face as if you're a rare gem that he can't afford breaking. "when i'm in charge, i'm going to change things. you won't have to do this anymore. i won't let them do this to you anymore!"

the two of you are a mess on the floor, crying in each others arms, and wishing that the world was a better place. "you still have thirteen years left. please...please keep fighting for me. i promise i'm going to save you."

"fushiguro..."

"call me by my first name."

"...megumi."

you're beautiful. he wants to kiss you so badly, but he knows now isn't the time. he wants to hold your hand in public, but he knows you'll be berated for doing so. he wants to tell you he loves you, but he's too afraid.

megumi fushiguro is a coward.

...but he's a coward in love; and one day, when he's taller and stronger, he's going to be able to tell you that. he's going to be able to protect you.

iii. what is love that is hopeless

"hold still." megumi's voice is soft, his fingers of the same gentle malice as they tend to your open wounds that haven't quite healed yet. with titan steam wafting from the slashes scattering your forearms and shoulders, they blow into his face in a fury of pain. "dammit, i said hold still."

his brings both arms down to your shoulders, heart breaking at the sight of you wincing in retaliation to his force, but carries on. there's no telling what you would've gotten yourself into if he hadn't insisted he care for your wounds; after making it publicly known that he's to be the only researcher allowed within your vicinity after your tireless warrior missions, none of the other researchers even attempt to get near you. he hates how often you put yourself in harms way in order to save your comrades. you're too brave. you've never been just a warrior of marley, but more or less a warrior of all people.

"i've been sitting here for an hour already, megumi." you roll your eyes, swinging your legs over the metal rims and turning to face your very pissed off best friend. "i'm tired and i'd like to get at least an hour of sleep tonight."

his expression is somewhat terrifying. if you didn't know megumi was such a scaredy cat, you'd be intimidated by his reddened cheeks and eyes of fury. it's almost as if he's an inflamed torch held against fluorescent lighting, pasty and saturated in fear and exhaustion. "i need to make sure you're okay."

"well, i have another plane to catch at dawn," you deflect his concerns. "there's some issue i was assigned to when i landed this morning. i guess one of our enemies isn't afraid of titans yet."

"you're not going."

he's firm in his statement. megumi doesn't like how his colleagues take advantage of you and your abilities. they're working you to skin and bones. if they were the ones checking up on you after every battle they'd know so, but they wouldn't treat you with as much care. his only wish in the world is to keep you safe, which he's doing an awful job at as of yet. "i don't want you getting more hurt than you already are."

"as if it matters." you scoff, leaning towards him in an attempt to get him to back off. "i'll just give 'em a little taste of my titan and they'll run away like mice. it's easy, 'gumi. trust me—"

"life isn't a game!" he's furious.

"well mine is!" you're angry as well.

why don't you get it? why can't you just run away with him?

"i only have four years left! four years, megumi! i don't care if i die tomorrow or the day after that or the day after that. i'm going to either way. you don't have that problem. you don't understand."

without warning, his lips are on yours in his best attempt to stop you from spouting all of his fears and worries from your mouth. he doesn't want to hear it. he just wants to pretend none of it is happening, and you're going to be okay. you are going to be okay. he'll make sure of it.

it takes a moment for you to respond until your intertwined in a feverish kiss that sends his medical supplies clanging to the floor— but megumi doesn't care about order, all he cares about now is being as close to you as possible. he's dreamt of this moment for years. what you taste like...feel like...sound like. he knows you're his soulmate. what he doesn't know is why it's taken him so long to kiss you.

but before your connection can move forward and become something more, your touch is gone.

"i'm sorry, i can't do this." there are tears creeping from the corners of your beautiful eyes. "i—"

he calls out your name as your figure dashes out the door, wishing that he was able to confess. he wants to tell you he loves you so badly; except he doesn't have the bravery he needs. with four more years left, megumi has two things on his agenda.

1.) find a way to save you.

2.) tell you he's yours forever.

iv. what is love everlasting

he's finally become a monster like the rest of them.

from the first time he saw you, he told himself he'd be your savior. he made countless promises that he'd find a way for eldians and marleyans to live in peace, that he'd find a way to save you from this shitty war; only to be the very person to lock you in chains, awaiting imminent death as the next female titan will be born.

megumi wanted to be brave. he wanted to stop being such a coward, but some people just aren't capable of changing so much— and what a disappointment that is.

"hey, fushiguro?" when did you stop calling him by his first name? "can you keep a secret?"

he's not supposed to be civil with you. his orders are to chain you up, inject the child, and watch as she devours you; but you're his weakness. he can't resist you. "of course i can."

a smile graces your lips. it's not a smile of happiness or joy...it's one of anguish and pain. "i wish i ran away with you. i should've run away with you. even though we only had four years, we could've been happy."

why are you saying all of this?

now of all times?

you should've told him years ago! you should've let him know your secrets before he let them change him! before he distanced himself from you and became distracted with his work!

"...megumi..."

"yes?" he's desperate to hear you.

"...i don't want to die."

a thought crosses his mind. it's a scene in which two main characters beat all odds and escape the chains and prisons they've faced, running off into the sunset, never to be seen again. this scene has a happy ending, one where there's a small and intimate wedding with no witnesses except the meadow's flowers. he lifts your veil away from your eyes and murmurs sweet nothings as you kiss him to start off your forever. his heart wants that to be true. he wants that to be true. it's too late, though. you have no time left. your thirteen years is up. his thirteen years of knowing you is up. it's time to say goodbye.

"i can't save you." he's struggling to get his words out while maintaining his composure; and your heart breaks as his promise does as well. "i'm sorry."

he's a monster.

you hang your head, nodding and accepting your fate as he makes his way down the stairs. seeing you like that, knowing what your fate is, almost causes megumi to pass out from lightheadedness. he knows he shouldn't be worrying about himself. after all, you're the one who's about to die. he has a whole lifetime to continue living, and your lifetime was a mere twenty-six years.

gently, he takes the newest warriors hands and tells her what he's about to do. the blonde girl nods along to his words, trying her best to ignore your radiating hopelessness as she's about to become the next you; and megumi injects his needle into her neck.

he wants to look away so badly as she grows into a pure titan with eyes locked on your frail body, but he doesn't want it to end like this. there's gotta be something that he can do to help you. anything to save you from this fate; but to no avail, he's powerless. so powerless that the only thing he manages to do is mouth three seemingly meaningless words as he locks eyes with you.

"i love you."

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 7 months

Note

Hi! Im not sure, feel free to completely ignore! But I love your writing and I saw this tiktok and it made me think about reader being exited for trick or treat but not a lot of kids come by so Bucky does something special? Or they go out to give out candy?

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMjtSWwmp/

Thank you so much in advance if you decide to write something related to this!

Have a nice day/night

Trick or Treat.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings - none!! just bucky being a sweetheart in love

Word Count - under 1k

Author's Note - thank you for this request, it's so lovely!! seeing as we've just passed halloween, thought i'd write something short and sweet. hope you enjoy.

Masterlist. Inbox.

You've been sat on your front steps for hours.

Bowl of candy in hand, goodie bags made up, decorations hung and ready. You've always loved Halloween, for as long as you can remember. Now you're older, the highlight is getting to see all the neighbourhood kids dressed up as they trick or treat.

Not this year. You and Bucky moved apartments last year, and you were ridiculously excited to get to give out candy on your new block. Turns out, no one really passes by your place.

"Baby," comes a voice from the front door behind you. "You're gonna catch your death. It's freezing."

Bucky sits down next to you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

"You wanna come inside? We can watch those old Disney Halloween movies you love."

You rest your head on his shoulder, revelling in his warmth.

"Not yet, Buck. Just gonna wait a little longer."

It's breaking his heart seeing you so defeated. You've been looking forward to the holiday for weeks, and it certainly hasn't turned out the way either of you hoped.

"Do you think there just aren't any kids around here? I've literally seen none."

"I don't know, baby. I'm just as confused as you are."

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, arms tightening around you.

He is confused. In your old apartment, you'd have dozens of kids come by, eager for candy and the cookies you'd make. You and Bucky would sit out on the front steps and give out goodie bags for hours, striking up conversations with parents and celebrating all of the costumes.

"Maybe we should go inside," you say quietly, starting to shiver. "We'll have to ask Sam tomorrow if he got any trick or treaters. Maybe it's going out of style."

Sam.

Bucky has a sudden eureka moment, jumping up from his spot next to you.

"Wait here, baby. One minute."

He runs inside, leaving you disorientated on the steps. He's back within thirty seconds, your bag in his hand.

"Come on. We're going out."

"Where?"

"It's a surprise. You'll see."

You pile into the car as Bucky loads all the candy into the trunk, trying to be as subtle as possible. He climbs in and presses a kiss to your knuckles before holding your hand for the entire journey, humming along to the radio as he drives.

You suddenly begin to recognise your whereabouts, more confused than ever.

"Why are we in Sam's neighbourhood, Buck?"

He winks.

"You'll see."

As soon as you pull up to Sam's house, he's striding out of the front door and towards you.

"Thank God you're here. I can't do it anymore. Why didn't we just do this in the first place?"

"Do what?"

"I remember Sam telling me about the, quote on quote, 'obscene amount of trick or treaters' that he gets at his house every year. And he hates Halloween -"

"It's true!" Sam interjects.

"- so I thought you could save him from his misery, and you get to give out candy like you wanted."

You're grinning at him from ear to ear, practically bouncing on the soles of your feet.

"You're a genius," you whisper, leaning up to press your lips to his softly. "I love you."

"I love you too," he smiles, stealing another kiss or four.

"I'm gonna head upstairs and watch the football game. You guys have fun out here!"

Sam throws you a thumbs up before retreating inside, closing the door behind him. You and Bucky bring all of your goodies from the car and set up on the porch, ready and waiting.

Before you know it, there are dozens of groups of kids on the street, all of them adorned in spooky costumes. They practically skip up the pathway towards you, excited and giddy.

"Trick or treat!"

"Woah, you're all super scary... I like your makeup! And your wig! Hey, your shirt is super cool!"

You're placing candy in their bags, so you can't see Bucky beaming behind you, light radiating off of him in all directions.

He'd find a way make it Halloween everyday if it meant he could see you smile like this.

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fluff #bucky x reader fluff #marvel fluff #marvel x reader #marvel x reader fluff #marvel halloween #bucky barnes halloween

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thekissofaphrodite · 2 months

Note

Could you please do Clarisse La Rue X female reader, where the reader is a daughter of Hephaestus and they offer to try and fix, and possibly improve, her broken spear?

THIS IS SO FUN TO MAKE!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING <33

Smudge

Clarisse La Rue X Daughter of Hephaestus!reader

Summary: Fixing a damaged spear and a molten heart.

Warnings: Lovesick Clarisse (+kissing) Language 🫢

Author's Note: I wrote this while there's a literal program going on in my school, I'm shameless 😶

——

There was an eerie and an uncomfortable silence in the Ares Cabin. Apparently, Capture the flag this day didn't go well. Hence, Clarisse La Rue terrorized her siblings, snapping at them and most probably WILL strangling them to death. But one of her siblings finally opened their mouth and said something worth hearing; "I heard The Hephaestus Cabin can take damages like that, You'll have to pay five extra drachmas though"

Despite the disagreement and feud between those two cabins because of their fathers, Clarisse never got her wallet out so fast and ran towards Cabin 9, clutching the remains of her broken spear in hand.

The Workshop-like cabin was in the distance, There was a small queue of campers, waiting for their armours and weapons that they commissioned and repaired.

Clarisse, Being the arrogant, Daughter of the high tempered war God, pushed those campers away, earning groans and nasty side-eyes.

The first person clarisse saw was you, Forging a bronze shield with a hot iron. Your hair held by a huge claw clip in a bun, A brown leather apron was tied on your waist and neck, There was a bead of sweat that rolled down your from forehead to your cheeks, using the back of your hands, you wiped your cheeks, a smudge of charcoal appeared on your cheeks, But you kept going, Unaware.

Clarisse stood there awkwardly, waiting for you to look up and notice her, but you seemed pre-occupied, Just as she was about to clear her throat, Your halfbrother crossed his arms in the table next to you, glaring at Clarisse.

"Oi, La Rue! Gonna stand there like a damn statue? My sister ain't got all day" Your brother addressing Clarisse with his heavy southern accent caught your attention, You looked up at her before dismissing your brother away.

"I got it, Devon. Besides, I'm almost done here, I can take her in"

Your brother's eyebrows furrowed.

"Look, Sis, you've been forging all day since 6 AM, Your wrists are gonna fall off any second"

You laughed.

"I'm pretty sure dad's not gonna let that happen, And...I think I can see Mila peeking over there"

The mention of your brother's girlfriend made him blush madly, Near the entrance, a pale girl with freckles and light brown hair wearing a jumper over her orange camp halfblood shirt was waving at your brother excitedly while holding a small punett basket full of strawberries.

He then rubbed the back of his neck before excusing himself, bringing his girlfriend into his arms.

It was now only you and clarisse inside the workshop , there was a moment of silence before clarisse broke it by placing her damaged spear on your table that made a loud clattering noise.

"Are you able to fix this?" Her voice cracked a little, you felt pity as you examined her spear. Clarisse looked up at you, there was a glint of hope in her eyes.

"It looks repairable, But the electricity.. I'm not sure, It's not going to be that electric, How did this happen anyway?"

Clarissed frowned.

"Jackson"

You stared at her in disbelief.

"That twelve yearold boy did this?"

"Yes— Why does that matter? He's a brat, if I could just snap his neck into two—"

"Hey," you whispered.

"He's just a kid, Let him be. I'm sure I'll get this done in no time." Comfort and reassurance lacing your voice, as you held her hand gently.

You could've sworn you saw Clarisse La Rue blush at the contact.

"So...Are you free?" Clarisse said all of a sudden, It was probably the most cheesiest way of saying 'Will you go out with me' But you won't complain, It's Clarisse.

There was a hint of playfulness in your voice as you responded "Are you asking me out?" Arms folded on your chest as you stared at her in amusement. The Ares girl blushed once more and rubbed the back of her neck, It was almost an unbelievable sight that THE Clarisse La Rue was blushing and acting flustered in front of someone, she mostly acts brute and mean, like totally mean to the point that if she was spotted in a crowd, people would part way.

"Isn't it obvious?"

You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"I'd love to"

Clarisse La Rue was screaming on the inside, but still, she kept a neutral expression, her eyes darting for her spear to yours.

"Great! I- uh... I'll come back tomorrow"

"For me or the spear?"

"Both"

——

The Ares cabin was peace and quiet in the morning, with Clarisse's siblings snoring away, the sun rising from the horizon signalling Apollo's coming, and birds singing softly.

Clarisse never thought she'd be like this, up early in the morning just to get a glimpse of a girl. Her whole life, she devoted herself to making her father proud, training every single day until her limbs went numb, fingers calloused and body sore, yearning for a single praise from her father. But it did. It worked, He gifted her a spear, an electric spear that she deeply treasured, the same spear that broken by that pathetic newbie.

You were her only hope.

So she sneaked out quietly, Carefully trying not to wake her sleep deprived siblings.

each footstep she took towards your cabin made her extremely nervous, but she kept her composure and held her head high like a true daughter of Ares.

Once she reached the entrance, her hands found the door knob and carefully twisted it, Letting it open, She saw you again, But this time you were sleeping peacefully on your work table, dust covered your face while her spear was placed in front of you, good as new with a red ribbon tied to the handle.

You must've pulled up a whole nighter.

She was caught off guard when you slowly started to steer from your sleep, moving uncomfortably.

Clarisse didn't know what to do, so she watched you carefully while you tried to process the world, still dowsy. You saw Clarisse and almost screamed.

"HOLY SHIT— CLARISSE?!" You yell a little too loud because you heard a loud yet distant 'SHUT UP!' coming from your siblings' room.

She just stood there, grinning shyly.

"I'm too early, am I?"

Your eyes found the clock up in the wall that read; 4:36.

"Way too early..."

You looked at Clarisse, then the spear on your table, Sighing.

"..and this was meant to be a surprise"

Clarisse chuckled.

"The spear is the least of my problems, I came here to see you"

Silence

"Me?"

"Yes, you...Do you wanna watch the sunrise?" Clarisse asked, carefully watching your expression, her cheeks flushed with red.

Sunrise?

You love sunrises..

"You didn't have to say it twice." Quickly grabbing your scarf, you held Clarisse's hand towards the fields.

The walk was long and quiet, with only you and Clarisse's breathing, and your boots crunching on the moist grass beneath it.

Once you two reached the small hill, you sat down and leaned back, Clarisse did the same. The sun was slowly rising, signalling Apollo and Aurora's arrival.

"Sorry for the unannounced intrusion earlier, I—"

"You couldn't wait to see me?" You chuckled softly.

Clarisse blushed again.

"Yes, That.." She couldn't admit that it was a little embarrassing admitting that she missed you.

But she missed more than you.

She missed your smile, She missed the way your vanilla perfume mixed with the copper and iron inside you and your siblings' forge, creating an irresistibly intoxicating smell. She missed the way your brows knit together while you focus intensely on hammering out a sword into shape, she missed the way your baby hairs stick on your sweaty forehead, she missed the way your apron wrapped perfectly around your body, bringing out your figure.

She missed everything about you.

You two were engulfed in a comfortable silence, with birds chirping and the trees swaying softly. she turned to you, but before she could speak, she noticed the smudge of charcoal on your cheeks from yesterday, it was a little faded, but still pretty visible.

so acting in her instinct, she moved closer to you and brought her hands on your cheeks, you were a bit startled, watching her wipe your cheeks softly as if tho you were the most delicate porcelain doll.

"Clarisse— What are you—" when she pulled her hand away, you saw a dark smear on her fingers, realization suddenly hit you, you embarrassingly looked away and tried to wipe the mess itself, but Clarisse's hands pushed yours away.

Her palm was now cupping your cheeks, and your gaze fix upon her.

Your heartbeat started beating faster, so did hers.

Clarisse didn't know what made her feel this way towards you, maybe Eros was spying on her and shot her an arrow, maybe Aphrodite was playing games because this was an alluring feeling that she had never felt before towards any person, Yeah, maybe she had a relationship with Silena Beauregard, but it was out of loneliness, Silena needed someone before she even met Beckendorf, and Clarisse needed someone before she met you.

You were the one that brought light to her day, the one that encouraged her to wake up every morning every time she felt little to no enthusiasm.

and now here you are, inches away from her lips while the sun rises.

It wasn't long before her lips touched yours, a burning and a twisting feeling inside your stomach along with butterflies erupted in you. She pulled you closer by wrapping her muscular arm around you waist. Her lips moved in sync against yours, your calloused fingers found her hair as you ran your fingers through it.

And it was pretty much the best sunrise kiss ever.

A/N

HELLO! I'm back with my first request from my inbox! I do hope you guys like this, i know it's been a month since i disappeared but fear no more— I will empty my inbox first before re-opening my requests! SO...STAY TUNED! ANY REQUEST I MIGHT POST MIGHT BE YOURS!

#percy jackon and the olympians #thekissofaphrodite #clarisse la rue x reader #dior goodjohn #xy/n #percy jackson #lovers #wlw

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ellaa-writes · 8 months

Text

The Beast Withiń

author note: Part 2. Part 1 here I rewrote this so many times. Some of them didn't end up saving but I like how this turned out. Not sure how long the series will be but going with the flow for now. Reminder this is an Alternative Universe to the cod franchise. Alpha König headcanon found here. masterlist

summary: Omegas are rare, in a world full of Alphas and Betas. Being a Omega was not only dangerous but they were highly sought after. After living your life has a Beta in disguise, you meet a scary Alpha, but not any normal alpha. But a gaint Apex Alpha who won't stop at anything to make you his.

tags: a lot of angst in this one. brief mentions of death. Cocky König. König asking for consent (he's trying). Mention of psychical violence. Mention of rape but not to reader or by König. Slow burn, still no smut yet but I promise it is coming. World building, relationship establishing. König is a crime boss/war criminal. I think that's all, enjoy! :)

Konig squeezed himself on your small livingroom chair. His knees well above his hips, his arms clamped to his sides. If this were any other circumstance you would have laughed at the sight. But right now you were pissed, no not pissed furious. Your fist clenching and unclenching, your nails digging into your palms hard enough to draw blood. You stomped your foot and pointed at the giant in the too small of chair.

“How dare you!” you yelled at him.” You son of a bitch!” you continued to yell. König didn’t take well of you calling his Mütter a bitch, rest in piece her soul he thought. All he did was raise his shoulders and roll his neck. This chair wasn’t comfortable at all and he’ll be paying the price for it. You could tell he wasn’t taking you seriously. His dumb smug face and his eyes blinking at you with indifference. You wanted to smack him, no you were going to smack him. You walked right up to him, nearly eye level with the sitting giant. You raised your hand and swung it through the air. Waiting for the stinging impact but it never came, instead König own hand wrapped around your wrist. Squeezing just enough to feel the grind of bone on bone, just enough to leave a slight bruise that’ll be healed with in an hour. His fingers thick around your arm, he brought your hand to his mouth and gave it a small kiss. You yanked it back with disgust, turning away from him as he rose from the chair. His hips clicking a bit from the uncomfortable position. “Have you calmed down?” he asked. Brushing off your temper, your sweet scent had turned sour and he did not like it. But seeing you stomping around trying to act tough, he thought it was cute. It might even had turned him on if you hadn't tried to hit him.“You must be hungry” he proclaimed as he walked past you and into your small dingy kitchen. The light above the stove has burnt out the first week you moved in and you never bothered to replace it. It still buzzed every time you turned the switch on. König poked his head under the hood and yanked the bulb out, tossing it in your over flowing garbage bin. You scoffed at his response, yes what a smug asshole you thought. But you also became self conscious of how you apartment looked right now. Sure you haven’t cleaned up in a few days but you planned on doing a deep clean during your heat. Fuck, you almost forgot about your heat. It should be here in a few days, but now that you’ve been claimed and marked you didn’t know how that was going to play out. Still fumming, the only thing missing was the steam coming out of your ears.

König began rummaging through your cupboards, opening and closing the doors. Trying to find something he could feed you, giving up and moving to your fridge. He was shocked to find leftover take out containers and cheap premade food. Unhappy with his choices he gave up all together, bringing out his phone and typing away his orders. First he wants a car dropped off in front of your house, having ran to your apartment. He also ordered for plenty of food to be stocked at his place. Tons of fruit and vegetables and he couldn't forget protein. He knew your heat was only a day away, having smelt it at the night club. You were staring at him while he did all of this. “Get out.” you told him. He still completely ignoring you until he put his phone away. You still smelled sour, your anger hadn’t resided. “Are you not going to say anything?” you were going mad. “About what?” he finally spoke. Leaning against your counter, his arms crossed over his chest. His biceps and pectoral muscles bulging out from the tight long sleeve dress shirt he had on. This was the first time you actually got a good look at him. He had a scar running from his top lip up to his nostril, a childbirth defect he’s lived with his whole life. His hair was cut short, buzzed to the scalp a mixture of light blonde and grey hair. He was scruffy, sporting a five o’clock shadow the same coloring as his shaved head. His eyes were deep set, dark but bright at the same time. “Done checking me out omega?” he asked, his cocky attitude coming to the surface again. He smirked at you as a flush began rising from your chest and across your face. That’s it your going to slap that smug smirk off his face. Moving fast across the kitchen you reached up high, your hand connecting across König face. The loud crack and sting followed shortly after. Once again König grabbed you wrist in his bruising grip. Shoving you back against the opposite counter. He towered over you, completely trapping you in. “Get the hell out of my house.” you whispered. König's grip on you loosened a bit, but he still held you to his chest. Cradling you like a father would a wounded child. Running his hand through your hair, a low purr coming from his chest. The only time König ever purred was for his mother when she was sad. It’s been years since that moment, and honestly he didn’t believe he’d ever hear it again.

The adrenaline pumping through your body began to chip away, your shoulders sagged and your knees buckled but König held you in place. All the emotions running through your veins, you wanted to cry, scream and beat him bloody. But you couldn’t, you just wanted to be held. The dam holding back your tears finally broke and you began sobbing. Not caring that you are soaking the front of his shirt. Your new reality finally sinking in, the fear of what this Alphas intentions are. Your mother told you horror stories about groups of Alphas taking one female omega at a time. Raping her over and over again until she gave them enough pups to satisfy them. It scared you senseless as a child and still scares you now. You enjoyed the freedom you had, sure it wasn’t luxurious but it was yours none the less. “It’s ok omega, everything will be alright.” König tried to soothe your worries. Noticing the shift in your scent again, instead of the sourness from your anger it is now bitter, biting and snapping at him. “Stop calling me that.” you sobbed. Sniffling and wiping your nose on the back of your hand. You pulled away from the Alpha, suddenly feeling very vulnerable like you were a sheep waiting to be slaughtered. How could this have happened you thought while walking to your couch and throwing yourself down. Still only in the shirt König managed to put on you and the same panties from last night. Not caring if he sees anything, not like he didn’t before. You curled yourself into a ball, letting your emotions take control while you crawled back into your mind, into the darkest corner you could find. Everything you worked for, the years of masking your scent and blocking your hormones. Poof, gone in a second and the man responsible is now looking at you like a sad puppy.

You stayed in that position for what felt like hours but it was only a couple of minutes. König left you in your spot and went to your bedroom. Finding two small suitcases in your closet. Stuffing them with whatever he thought would be importance. His phone dinged, he went to the window facing the street. The car he ordered was parked neat in front of your apartment. He turned his focus back to your bedroom. He knew he couldn't fit everything in the car, not now anyways. And he wasn't sure if he even wanted most of this stuff at his place. His eyes lingered on your bed spread, you'd need something fimilar to nest with. Yanking them off and into a ball, König began moving stuff from your apartment to the car. You still hadn't moved an inch from your spot, only coming to when your tummy began protesting its hunger. Oh right, you were supposed to go grocery shopping today. To stock up on not only food but other supplies for your upcoming heat. You’ve always done it alone, as a child your mother would lock you in the basement. Lining the windows and doors with fresh lavender and honeysuckle, hoping the sweet scent of the herbs helped mask the scent of a female omega in heat. You heard König call your name, your real name and not omega. You crawled out from the dark corner of your mind, eyes focusing on the alpha that is now squatted in front of you on the couch. “Let me take care of you.” he wasn’t asking he was pleading. He can smell your hurt and see it in your eyes. This place wasn’t safe for you anymore, it never was. He got himself angry earlier thinking about another Alpha or let alone a lowly beta breaking into your apartment and having their way with you. He ignored the fact that he was the one that broke in, but he viewed himself has different. Not letting his cock and lust control him. But he won’t lie, he was very attracted to you. The moment his eyes locked onto your body moving through the crowd. It took him a second to single out your scent among the hundreds of bodies in that club. He was there on business, or he would never be in such a place. He hated crowed and loud spaces, his business partner knowing that chose the location out of spite. That’s why he’s now chopped up and fed to dogs, in his defense it wasn't the only reason. But there was something different about your scent, it was sweet like most females but there was something lingering underneath it. It burned his nostrils and filled his lungs, musky and heady. It was your incoming heat, he couldn’t believe it. An omega.

"I'm scared." you finally admitted. Hugging your arms around yourself, trying to comfort and self soothe. König didn't like any of it, not one bit. "You can trust me omega. I want to only love, cherish and worship you." now it was Königs turn to confess. As a child he dreamed about finding a mate, preferably an omega. To love her and take care of her. Someone to worship and kill for. And right now that someone was you. You took in his words, looking into his eyes. The burning flames swirling around the blue, the rich scent rolling off his body. It's not like you had a choice but you let yourself believe you chose this. You chose him. You nodded your head, which made König smile. It was a genuine smile and not that smug smirk from earlier. Up close he was attractive as hell, finally allowing yourself to feel something other than anger. He had to be at least 200cm tall, weighing as much as a brick house. Thick in all the right places, his shoulders wide and legs strong. "Can I carry you?" he asked. Hesitate to touch you right now, you were so fragile he was scared your crumble in his grip. You nodded your head again, too tired for words and still hungry. A cramp began forming deep in your lower stomach, causing you to gasp a little. It was coming to the surface, spreading out across your lower abdomen and down to your uterus. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Not now, please not now. You begged the holy mother that watched over her children. You felt the slick heat slowly making its way down to your panties. Finally becoming self conscious in what you were wearing in front of the Alpha. König was taken back, the sent of your slick filling the small space. His head began spinning and his heart nearly pounding out of his chest. The beast clamoring to get a taste. But he was in control, shoving the beast down and focusing on the present. Ignoring your sweet and heady scent, König carried you out of your apartment. A few people were up early enough, watching has a giant alpha emerged from the door. Bringing you to the car and setting you down in the back were he shoved your bedding as well. Closing the door behind you has you untwined your fluffy duvet and wrapped it around you body. Burying yourself in the warmth and softness of the materials. König sat in the driver seat, locking the doors and starting the car. Pulling away front he curb and towards his home and now your new home.

#könig #könig mw2 #cod mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig x reader #konig call of duty #könig call of duty #könig x you #könig x reader #könig cod #Alpha König #Alpha konig #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics

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l0v3tast3 · 9 months

Text

SOMETHING LIKE A DEATH KISS | KEEGAN RUSS

keegan saves you from certain death in an active warzone. after some time of being stuck in the same safehouse, he helps you let down your guard.

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, fem!reader, keegan's kinda icky in this, he calls you "kid" among other pet names, unprotected s3x, dirty talk, this is pure smut, loss of virginity

✎ word count: 1.7k words (not proofread)

✎ author's note: this has been sitting in my drafts for quite a bit lol i don't think it's my best work but i wanted to write something for keegan cuz edits of him took over my fyp for awhile (///￣￣///)

masterlist

"don't run."

keegan's impressed with you. just a few hours ago, you were so twitchy, eyes flitting every which way and muscles endlessly tensed. the gunfire he'd saved you from had you on constant high alert for days in the safehouse you were both holed up in.

now, you couldn't care less about your surroundings. not when he's sinking his cock into you centimeter by centimeter. the stretch stings, your body and your instincts clashing in wanting to buck your hips into his and wanting to squirm further up the bed. the hour that keegan spent working his tongue against your clit still wasn't enough, apparently.

"c'mon kid, you can take it," he breathes, right into your neck before he sinks his teeth in.

keegan's canines make you whimper and turn your head away, but it helps to distract you from the burning. you really didn't think his dick would fit in you- he told you not to worry about that.

your hands being pinned against the spring mattress is disguised as sweet as he intertwines his coarse fingers with yours. you know he's holding you down with that and his own weight over you to keep you from getting away. he knows you won't even try it, but he's just making sure.

"almost there, princess- doin' so good." more and more gravel grates in his voice the deeper he presses into you, while your voice gets whinier in a way he wants to hear so much more of.

your grip on his hands gets tighter when you realize that his dick isn't all the way in yet. you already feel so full, like your organs are being pushed to the sidelines to make more room for him. tears prick the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming feeling and keegan's lips spread into a bit of a grin when he sees them.

his hands were already getting harsh by the time you told him you'd never had sex. the hold he had on you had just gotten tighter, he'd kissed you rougher and promised that he would take such good care of you.

and he is, keegan would like to think, even when he pushes the last couple inches in much faster than the rest- he just can't help it when your little pussy is wrapping around him so tight and your breath is getting so shaky.

"ah-! kee-gan! haa- please-" you hiccup, brain matter practically melting out of your ears. the plea is a mix of wanting him to stay still and to start moving- you can't think well enough to figure out which option would overstimulate you more.

"aww- hah, see baby? told ya it would all fit- see, it's all here-" keegan's hand pulls yours down between your legs folded over his shoulders to press it down against your lower stomach. a cry pushes off of your tongue at the multiplied pressure. "fuck, gonna have to take you home with me, kid- this cunt was made for me."

the thought of keegan lifting your hips up and pressing his cock into you whenever he wants makes the little air you managed to get leave you lungs quick. if it means you get to feel this lava crawling through your veins again, you'd sit on his lap during the flight back home.

"yeah? hah, you want that? want me to take you with me? sweet girl- don't know what you're in for," he laughs. keegan's starting to creep his hips back, dragging his dick out of you until only the tip remained before he pushes back in a little bit faster.

"plea- mm, please- keegan, slo-w-" it's all you can do to choke out the bare minimum of your sentence when he's picking up the pace.

"what, you want me to slow down?" his patronizing tone is barely hidden. "you were doin' so well, where'd that go?"

keegan doesn't slow down but he stays at the same pace. there's some relief when he lets his hand up from your belly- he lets you regain control of the one hand and you use it to dig your nails into his forearm. you feel him cup the side of your face and he leans down until you're nose-to-nose. he looks smug.

"startin' to like it now, hm? y'just gotta listen to me, princess- i know just how to take care of you."

you know he's berating you for being nervous, but he is starting to become something you'll get addicted to. every time he bullies his cock back into you makes you believe him, believe that he knows what's best.

it's a losing battle trying to respond to him coherently. instead of wasting the little energy your body held onto, you tighten your legs around his waist and mash your lips against his. keegan groans into the sloppy kiss, hand moving to the back of your head to press you further into him.

he would swear that it's unintentional but his hips start smacking against yours, the sound evidence enough of how wet he'd made you. the hand still pinned against the bed is released in favor of grabbing your plush thigh. your knee is brought close to your face and you nearly wail.

"see? hah, what did i tell you?"

keegan's sighed words go straight over your head- he doesn't like that. he snakes his hand around and it grips your jaw, making your hazy eyes move to his.

sweat makes his face shine and his lips are cherry red; keegan's mussed hair and heavy gaze help to make him look almost as wrecked as you are. he leans over you until you can see the satisfaction of control in his eyes.

"what did i tell you?" he repeats. it's slower, demanding- enough to make you open your mouth against his hand.

as soon as you try to make a sound other than garbled moans and whines, keegan slams his hips into yours and keeps them there. the head of his cock grinds into your cervix and you choke on your air, nails drawing blood in his arms, eyes rolling back into your emptied head.

you feel the hand on your jaw jostle you a bit while he whispers patronizing sympathy, "hey, hey, stay with me kid," and "you can take me, princess, bein' such a good girl."

he keeps grinding deep into you, pressing your leg further into your chest- all your whimpers and strained pleas makes keegan's ego visibly inflate. it's something he knows he's already addicted to.

a spit out "fuck" leaves his mouth before he leans back up and effortlessly flips you over before you can even whine. it's no problem for keegan that you're body feels like it's made of jelly; you hips are hoisted up to meet his as he kneels behind you, already pushing his cock back into you.

it feels so different, like he's in your lungs now, your throat and your head. every bit of him invading every bit of you. you barely feel his hand drifting up your spine, until he reaches the back of your neck and pushes the side of your face into the mattress. when you strain your neck you can see his smile.

you cum in the span of the next few minutes, body shaking and back arching while keegan fucks you hard enough to push you up the mattress. he's groaning, muttering out more praises, how tight you are around him, how pretty you look like this, how he'll never get tired of this.

keegan slows down as the white-hot pleasure cools off inside of you. collapsing fully into the mattress, he huffs a laugh and pulls away, smacking your ass before he sits beside you against the headboard.

muscles slowly relax while you lay content- that is until about ten seconds later when keegan easily hoists you up onto his lap. once he has you situated, he lifts you up to line up the head of his cock again. he leans in close until his lips are brushing against yours. every time you try to close the tiny gap, he pulls his head back.

"ah-! you di- mmh- you didn't-?" you stutter as he pulls you down with one hand, the other wrapping around your back to press your chests together. fog still covered your brain, slow to clear; you're surprised when his stamina supersedes what you generally heard about men in the past.

he leans his head back as your hips meet again, a deep moan pulled from his chest. "shit, kid- so fuckin' tight still-" he grits out, already thrusting up into you. a whiny yelp escapes your lips before you're hanging onto his shoulders as he bounces you up and down, meeting you halfway every time.

sparks crackle in your stomach, your nerves still overly sensitive, and before you can even recover from the last orgasm you're about to cum again. he ignores your half-spoken question in favor of watching your tits bounce and groaning filthy words.

the last straw that breaks the flood in you is when he leans you back against his bent knees to fuck into you harder. you lose awareness of everything except him. keegan's keeping you grounded with his hands on you while he makes you feel so weightless, helpless against the pleasure he causes.

a growled "fuck-" is the only warning you get before keegan pulls you tight against him and buries his cock into you to grind into your cervix again. his hips stutter and his body goes taut while he chokes out moans in your ear. weak whimpers still come out of you every little bit, only serving to make his nails dig into your soft skin harder.

"fuck..." he repeats, a calm sigh this time. he lifts his head from your shoulder and takes your face in his hands. "fuck, baby, you're comin' home with me."

keegan kisses you and you kiss him back in agreement.

(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ likes, comments n reblogs are always appreciated!!

#— lilly writes! ♡#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty ghosts #keegan p russ #keegan russ #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ x you #female reader #reader insert

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appleblueberry-pie · 2 months

Note

Yandere Miguel asks? Alright

Miguel who's already lost his daughter Gabriella and his wife when he messed up the Canon and the universe got destroyed. He's doing his little thing in the spider society when he finds a universe nearly identical to the one that got destroyed, the one where he replaced himself.

Only, in this universe, (Y/n) and Gabriella are meant to die instead of that universe's Miguel.

I imagine Miguel would tell himself a lot of excuses and rationalizations before bringing those two back to his universe (probably with a permanent form of a day pass). A little white lie to them won't also hurt.

Its a plot I've been wanting to write for awhile (as a fellow Yan author) but I've put writing on the back burner so I wanted to share this idea and see how'd you approach it :)

I'll be honest, I didn't feel like writing the entire backstory for what you want(which I usually would), but I went to straight action.

BLOOD MOON

He thought things would get easier from here. He thought he could finally come home, relax, see his beautiful and amazing wife, along with his precious baby girl. Because he's worked too hard in this lifetime. Too many short days and long nights, too many sacrifices made to keep himself and others safe. Too many deaths. Too many losses. Too many remembrances and forgotten memories. He just wanted it all to end. And he thought it did. Because he finally found you guys. Here you were standing before him with those gorgeous eyes he always got lost in. Telling him about his daughter and your day. So why were your words so venomous?

"I can't do this anymore." He kissed you on the forehead and closed the front door behind him. He walked past you and placed his work items on the table. "What was that, dear?" You stared at him as if he grew two heads. "We can't stay here forever, Miguel." He shuffles to get one shoe off before he finally comprehends your words. His face falls and he looks over at you. He had told you it was all in the past. Why are you bringing up old news? "Can't stay here?" He quotes you as if you said a joke. Your face twists into one of anger and you walk over to him.

"You know what I mean. Holding us here with no real motive besides keeping us for your own sick fucking pleasures. We're not pets, Miguel-" "Wait, wait, wait, wait. Where is this coming from? Pets?? Y/n, what are you talking about? I've never treated you like any kind of animals, you're my wife-"

"I don't know you!!" The growing silence allows you both hear the creak of a door opening from afar and Miguel begins to stare at you as if you mentioned something taboo. As if you're stupid. "Let's talk about this later." Miguel turns his back to you to go your shared bedroom. "No, I'm not going to talk about this later, Miguel, we're not from here! Look, I don't know what you want, or even who you are. But...you can't just-" Miguel feels his irritation that build up all day begin to rise again. His shoulders tense the more you talk, and your daughter peeking out her bedroom to witness this wasn't helping.

He turns to face you again, almost seeming to crowd over you. "I am your husband. I am your husband! I've given you everything you needed. I gave you a place to call home, a better home. You don't have to live off of minimum wage anymore. And finally, your daughter has a father figure to watch after her, aren't you happy?? Because I sure am! Gaby's been so happy now and so have you. Why can't you just.....appreciate the things I've sacrificed for the both of you???"

You scrunch your face and take a step back. This stranger suddenly spouting bullshit to you about your killed husband and saying that the two of you being in a random different universe is a blessing?? You're confused and scared and would rather live where you used to than wherever this foreign place is. He was beginning to piss you off. ".....How dare you?" Miguel raises his eyebrows when he notices your tone. "How dare you? My husband is fucking dead......You stole us away from home and now you're saying that whatever this shitshow is, is a blessing?" "Mommy?"

You shake your head and jab your finger into his chest. "You don't know the first thing about me." "I know you love teaching Gaby piano, I know you love going out on walks when the sun is setting, I know you love letting me drive you to places, I know you love when I cook you dinner, I know where you used to work, where you want to work, I know when you first told me you were pregnant with our babygirl, I have your vows memorized and I know that you love me. I know that you love me, so why don't you just let me love you, hermosa?" Miguel had backed you into a door and gently cradled your face into his hands. He softly whispers to you as if trying to snap you back into reality, as if it wasn't setting in the moment you realized this psycho was obsessed with you two.

"I would never, ever hurt you. I do everything for our family, nothing else. My two girls are the only things on my mind all day when I'm at work. And to come back home to you is everything I could ask for. And if there was anything else I could ask for, is for you to love me back. Please." He had gestured your daughter out of her bedroom and she ran into his arms. He smiled down at her, making her worried face shift into one of relief. Miguel laughs and kisses her forehead lovingly. You want to kill this man for ever putting his hands on you and your daughter. You failed to keep your girl safe and now she was in the hands of a monster she believed to be her dead daddy. Your worst fucking nightmare come true. Calling out to her and making her come to your side wouldn't save her. Attempting to kill him wouldn't save her because then the both of you would be stuck wherever you were. All you wanted was for her to live a normal life, and not even the universe could give you that. What were you gonna do?

Miguel noticed your blank face and sent Gaby away, grabbing your hand gently. You let him. He hugs you and whispers into your ear. "I'm done talking about this. You clearly need sleep." You look up at him, glaring, yet he continues to stare down at you with adoration. He leaves no room for argument as he opens the bedroom door to lead you in.

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testingthewatersss · 5 months

Text

Yes, YES, imagine...

Modern problems Usual Winter Solider context warnings but this is pretty tame tbh Bucky Barnes x F Reader Imagine 2977 words Fluff, mild angst. 18+ MDNI

Requests open for a while via messages check masterpost for updated availability.

"It wasn't even a real gun, Buck" you insist, leaning against the door frame.

"that's not the point" he replies, face set in annoyance.

"You can't push someone through a locked door because he has a paintball gun in a gas-station!"

"He's lucky I wasn't aiming for the wall" he mutters petulently. Luckily, he's gotten quite good at not being overheard by now, even by you.

"Sweetheart," you say, softening your tone in response to his body language, which is the total opposite of his attitude. He's making himself small on the edge of the couch you share, and despite the boldness of his actions and his adamant denials of doing anything wrong, his eyes seem full.

"He wasn't anywhere near us..."

That makes him scoff, you take the opportunity to pace over to him, taking his face in your hands. His jaw is set under your fingers but still, he lets out a gentle breath as he looks up at you, yet another layer of well-practised bravado falling away.

"He was heading straight for you, doll" he says quietly, "he was headin' straight for you, and your back was turned and you didn't even know he was armed-"

"-He wasn't armed though, was he love?"

Guilt flashes across his features then, and he quickly averts his gaze. So, in return, you lower your palms to his. Tangling your fingers together to stop him fussing with his hands in his lap.

"He could've been" he counters, "You don't understand how dangerous the world is, Y/N. When I- before, back in the forties things were different-"

"Oh, yeah..." you chuckle, letting him pull you onto his lap, "with rationing, and dancing and bombshelters and the second world war, I'm sure things were just overflowin' with safety"

That manages to make him crack a smile. It's short-lived, it vanishes with a subtle shake of his head, but still. It's so lovely that you can't help but lean down and kiss him.

Bucky feels his whole posture start to soften the moment your lips meet his. The adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins for hours starting to drain away, replaced by the loud thrumming of his pulse. He relishes in it. Happy to drown in the warmth of your embrace instead of panic for once.

You trace his temples with your thumbs, rubbing your nose against his as you feel his arms close around you, holding you tight to his chest.

"I don't mind you keepin' me close" you allow calmly, "I don't even mind you actin' like a security gaurd in public- but you've gotta ease up a little. I can't keep callin' Nat to clean up after us whenever I run an errand, she's gonna start cashing in favours one of these days and I don't even want to know what that might mean."

"I can keep her away too" he mumbles into your shoulder, the words hot on his breath, "I can keep you right here, Sugar. The whole world can go to hell"

As if to prove a point, his metal arm locks in place. You laugh gently, stroking his hair as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

"Stop acting like everythin' is out to get me, Barnes" You instruct, tone failing to hold any genuine authority when his pouting face comes into view.

"It is" he counters, deadly serious, "You just don't see it"

"Or..." you allow, "maybe you see it too much"

He shakes his head, staring at you now, blue eyes imploring you to understand;

"You're so delicate" he murmurs, flesh fingers tracing across your arm adoringly, "you're always gettin' hurt, darlin'- last week you couldn't walk right for three days-"

"Because I tripped on the stairs" you insert calmly, "Not because the stairs attacked me, and not because I'm fragile"

"-The stairs to the subway" he agrees, "The Subway, which is a whole other death trap-"

You snort, but all humour leaves you when you see the seriousness of his expression.

"It's a packed can of compressed metal filled with strangers and trapped underground" Bucky continues, "It could catch fire, it could crash- anyone on it could-"

"-Hey.." you whisper, stopping him before he can get too carried away, "statistically speaking, this is the safest time to be alive y'know? Sure, flying cars would be a nice change, but the-"

"Cars" he sneers, "Don't get me started"

That makes you laugh, the pure, untempered grouchiness of his complaints and his real disdain for cars paired with the look of stubbornness on his face is funny. Even if you not taking his concerns seriously only adds to the gristle in his tone.

"Y/N/N" He says, "I mean it, you- you are so, so precious to me, darlin'- I couldn't stand it if anythin happened to you, and I know you don't see it but you're human, and the world is-"

"Made for humans, by other humans" you remind him, kissing his brow. "And you shouldn't call me human and imply that you're not"

He rolls his eyes at your scolding and flexes his arm, making the metal plates groan, as if to prove a point.

"You're still human" you argue, not willing to waiver on that point at least, "A bionic arm and some Stark Industry vitamins doesn't change that, and when it comes to life outside of this tower I am just as safe as you are."

"That's worse" he sighs, head dropping back to rest defeatedly on the couch, "You bein' as safe as me is so much worse than just you bein' on your own, doll- Don't you see that?"

"Not really," You tell him honestly, "but even if it were true, it wouldn't matter. Safety isn't owed to anyone, except maybe you-"

"And if HYDRA decide to pick you up as a hostage?" he says, voice stern now, "or if they just decide to kill you on the spot, just to mess with me, and Tony, and Natasha, and Steve and all the other targets that you've gotten yourself tangled up with?"

"Then I'd think that you, and Tony, and Natasha, and Steve would do your jobs, that you'd keep yourselfs and each other safe while you got to the whole Avenging part of your job."

"I'm not messin' around', Y/N" He sighs, peering up at you defiantly, "I'm serious-"

"So am I," you say with a shrug, "Gettin' old is a privilege, not a right- And, thanks to every one of those targets you mentioned, I am one of the most overly protected people on the planet. Tony has my cell phone and my Apple watch synced up with FRIDAY. My location and my vitals are monitored by SHEILD, all day- everyday- I live in the super-hero equivalent of an armoured tank and I am going to marry the most protective man that has ever lived. I am fine, and if one day I'm not, then I'm real sorry, Buck but I'll have died happy and it'll be more your problem than mine."

"Exactly" he grumbles, deliberately ignoring the humour at the end of your statement "It'll be all my problem, because I love you and I-"

"I hate to break to it you, Buck," you say, "but that is part of bein' in love. Supersolider or not, the hardest part of loving anyone is knowing that you could lose them. That you will lose them someday, if you wait long enough, but that doesn't mean you both just hide away until you die of old age, it means you live the best life you can together so that when one of you is left behind you have it all to look back on."

"You've been spending too much time with Steve" He relents, "You're gettin' a little too good at motivational speeches"

"You're the one who got into the habit of bringin' him to date night- to every date night"

"80 years ago, darlin', I thought he'd grow out of it eventually"

"He still might," You say softly, bringing your palm up to his cheek.

He huffs out a sigh before closing his eyes and nestling into the warmth of your skin on his, pressing a soft kiss against your wrist before nodding.

"I'm sorry" he murmurs, "I'll try and give you s'more space, whatever you need..."

And then his face is falling, his arms loosening just enough for you to notice, and the way his lips quirk downward makes you want to just build a bunker deeper than any subway and let him move you in there instead.

"I don't need space" You're quick to assure him, "I need you to use some of those under pressure thinkin' skills and check before you decide someone is a threat"

There is a genuine look of remorse on his face now, it makes your heart ache in your chest. It's so sad that you feel your own conscience sting in response, knowing that your conversation has fuelled it,

"I love you" you tell him, unable to not- "I love you a whole lot, Barnes and I refuse to be the reason you have another regret. You hear me? Not a single new regret- not a small one, because you call me three times in a row and Sam gets you thinkin' it's too much and definitely not one that involves some jerk at a bar that gets a little close or some red-neck getting snacks for his road trip, so you better make sure that the next threat you neutralise is a threat, okay? That's all I want."

"I thought he was," he says lamely, "I really thought he was, doll- I saw the gun and I saw you, and I just wanted him gone"

"Well..." You sigh, smiling softly, "He went- With a slightly broken arm, and a huge compensation cheque from Tony, so, as long as you promise to not feel too bad about it, then it looks like we might both get what we want."

He hums softly, not giving much away regarding his opinion on the matter.

"Why are you still sulkin', handsome?" you wonder, looking at his face again. There's an unhappy crease in his brow, and even though he's trying his best to seem like he's fine, there's something about the way he's watching you that doesn't seem quite right.

"'s nothin'" he mumbles, forcing a smile, "I'm just sorry for puttin' you through this every few weeks, I am tryin, darlin' to get better about it."

You shake your head, quickly deciding not to scold him for feeling guilty, knowing that any playfulness the teasing might hold will be lost in favour of more misplaced guilt. You settle on kissing him, on running your fingers through the tangles of his hair as they slip back behind his ears. On tracing his cheeks as he pulls you ever closer towards him. He doesn't let up until he's verging on breathless. Until his desperate, frantic urge to protect you is satisfied that you're real and solid and exactly where you belong. He knows logically that you're right. That you're safe, as safe as you can be anyway- but the world is so full now. The Brooklyn streets he'd grown up on are more like concrete jungles, infested with noise and lights and cars, and people. He used to love that. The living, breathing soul of the city that never sleeps. The crowds in the daytime and the scattered laughter that would drift in through a cracked fire escape at night. He'd sit up on the roof for hours smoking cheap cigarettes and just watching, and he never once felt scared. Even when the war first stirred, even then, the people were the one thing that he wasn't afraid of, they were his home away from home. Men he'd never known suddenly felt like family, as soon as they were packed in the back of a transit car. Crowded dance halls meant freedom and packed underground shelters meant protection. But somewhere along the way, they all became threats. Dark, faceless shadows that move around in swarms, making noises that he's never expecting and getting too close to the one thing that he could never bear to lose. Operating machines that they shouldn't be touching, huge metal busses that sound like they might collapse, or elevators that could break, or ski lifts- of all things to exist, huge wires with weak seats that carry people up too high, and you are so breakable. Your ankle a week ago was just the latest injury, before that you hurt your shoulder at the gym, lifting a huge metal barbell that he can't comprehend you touching, and before that tripped in a pothole. The road itself hurt you, because a person didn't do their job and get it filled and he can't trust anything, or anyone other than a handful of people, and all of them just parrot the same thing about you being fine.

You stay still, resting your head on his chest, letting him settle himself by holding you in place. You had been tempted to start speaking again, until you'd noticed the way his fingers were moving, ever so gently tapping a rhythm against your side. A slow, steady pulse. Your pulse. An exact mirror of your heartbeat, which is a complete contrast to the thrashing of his own.

As long as he can feel that, then he knows you're alright. That you're not scared, or hurt, or in danger, and that is the only way that he stands a chance of calming down himself.

"Can you give me five minutes?" You purr, reluctant, but suddenly overwhelmed with an idea, "You can come" you offer, sweetening it with a peck on his cheek, "I just want to go and see Tony about somethin'-"

To your surprise, he chuckles at that, releasing his grip on your waist to paw at his eyes.

"Should I be worried, doll?" he asks dryly, "I'm here lovin' on my girl and she suddenly wants to go see another man-"

The way you snort makes him smile wider. He kisses you again, on your knuckles this time, before letting go of your hand, feeling a pang of curiosity as you half skip from the room, a grin splitting your face.

It doesn't take long. Ten minutes instead of five, maybe- but not long.

And when you are done, feeling awfully pleased with yourself, you find him in the kitchen, cutting carrots by the sink with the radio playing at such a low volume you can't help but wonder why he bothered turning it on at all.

He looks over at you without missing a beat with his knife and grins wide and genuine when you come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing a kiss against the back of his shoulder.

"I got you something" You announce proudly, beaming as brightly as him when he turns, leaning back against the marble counter to face you, "Somethin' that might make it easier for you to relax"

"I told Tony" he scoffs, "I'm not taking anything he cooks up in that lab- I don't care if he thinks I need a Xanax, whatever that is-"

You laugh at that, small and tempered as you reach into your back pocket, pulling out a small, plain dog tag.

At least that's what it looks like. An unengraved dog tag, complete with the small hole, waiting for a chain.

"Thank you?" he says, aiming for pleased, trying not to let his confusion show, especially since you seem so happy to be giving it to him, "It's-"

"You're too polite for your own good- you don't even know what it is yet"

"I've seen more of them than you" he counters, opening his palm to receive it, "but I think you're meant to write somethin' on them, doll-"

The second he touches it, he stops. Words dying in his throat. He doesn't realise yet, not completely, but he's instantly captivated by the warmth humming through the metal.

Your smile turns smug as you reach out, curling his hand around the tag, putting his flesh thumb flat across the surface-

There it is. It's your pulse, thrumming as calmly as ever.

He's stunned. He blinks at you dumbly for a moment, and then he kisses you. He grabs you and pulls you in and his metal hand is on your cheek and you're breathless and-

The thrumming in the tag speeds up, increasing as he makes your heart flutter in your chest. He pulls back to stare at his hand again.

"It's a live feed" you explain, "I figured Tony would be able to knock something up- As long as I've got my watch on, or, I'm somewhere that FRIDAY can get a read on me, then it's a direct, real time echo, okay? No delay, no glitches, no dead batteries."

He blinks at you, expression adoring now.

"-and if I need you- If a threat does pop up when you're not there, then-" you reach down, pressing and holding three fingers against the centre of your watch for a second

The tag vibrates in response. A constant unignorable tremor that makes it dance in his palm.

You take it upon yourself to stop it, exaggerating your action of squeezing it in demonstration.

"FRIDAY will be able to give you my location down to the inch."

Bucky knows he's gawking. His jaw is slack and he must be the picture of comedic surprise, but he doesn't care one bit. All he cares about right now is you.

"How did you think of that?" he murmurs, already moving to add it to his chain, the chain he never takes off, the one that has his other dog tag hanging from it, keeping it in its place against his heart.

"I just figured," you say, helping him refasten the clasp, "A modern problem would probably have a modern solution"

(I usually write imagine requests from the you POV, if thats not what you want then just lmk in the message)

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thefallennightmare · 7 months

Text

Miracle-twelve

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: Apologies if this chapter is kind of boring especially making you all wait five days for an update. I was hoping it would be more exciting, but it worked out better this way for this chapter.

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo @er3nslovergirl @iamdesolate @lma1986 @jessitpwk @themodern-daywednesday @writethrough @bngurngheart @dreams-that-are-anwsered @loeytuan98 @omens-in-reverse @loverofagoodbeard

"Let me help you, Y/N."

I smacked Folio's hand away as he tried to help me out his car. "I'm fine. Now that my knee's wrapped, I can walk a bit."

My protests meant nothing to him as Folio still helped me out of the car, my camera bag perched on his shoulder. I told him I could carry it but he dismissed me, saying that he can help where I need it. As if he hadn't done enough for me today. If it wasn't for Folio, I wasn't sure how things with my mom would have ended.

After Lana and I had a very lengthy discussion about putting my mom in a facility once I'm back home from tour, Folio finished cleaning up the destruction while I lay on the couch to rest my knee. Lana looked at it and she said it wasn't broken, just extremely bruised and swollen. She wrapped it up for me and told me to pop a few pills to help the pain.

"Have you talked to Noah?" Folio asked as we stepped through the back entrance of the venue.

"Not really. I told him I had a rough night last night and needed to sleep it off. He wanted to get dinner tonight," I explained while limping along next to him.

With a quick glance to my watch, I noticed it was nearing four in the afternoon and Noah sent me a few texts wondering when I was going to show up. He didn't know Folio, and I were together all day and there was a small part of me that worried he would think the worst when he found out.

"Did he explain why his phone was turned off?"

I nodded. "His phone died, and he charged it when he got to Bryan's but it was on silent so he couldn't hear me calling until he saw all the missed calls when he woke up."

Folio led me towards the main stage, knowing that the rest of the guys were there waiting to go through one final sound check before doors opened, since Folio missed it earlier. We kept our reasoning why we were late short, too much to explain over text.

"Are you going to tell him what happened?" Folio questioned as he pulled me to a stop a few feet away from the stage.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the rest of the guys talking amongst themselves and when they noticed us, Noah's gaze felt hot on me.

"I-I don't know," I sighed. "Maybe once I have everything sorted with my mom."

Folio gave me a warm smile and handed me my camera bag. "I still think you should have stayed home."

I gave him a light shove to his shoulder before moving my bad leg around in a circle, doing my best to keep the grimace off of my face. Yes, it hurt like fucking hell but it was better that I was here than at home with my mom.

Folio saw right through it but still pulled me into a tight embrace and left a gentle kiss on top of my head. I wrapped my arms around him and let out a shaky breath, truly astonished at everything he did for me today.

"Thank you, Folio."

"Anytime." He promised.

"Are you guys doing whatever the fuck you're doing so we can get to soundcheck?" A loud voice echoed through the speakers of the venue.

Stepping away from Folio, I noticed Noah holding a microphone to his side and dark eyes watching me. I did my best to ignore the way he looked in the black tank top, the muscles of his arms flexing. Clearly seeing Folio and I together made him jealous, and this was something I didn't want or need to deal with. But as we walked closer to the stage, Noah then noticed the mark on my neck along with the scratches and as soon as he saw how I was limping, he jumped off the stage to meet me the rest of the way.

"What happened?" Noah asked with his gaze bouncing between Folio and I.

Folio nodded towards me. "I'll let her explain. I'm fine, don't worry."

Suddenly, Noah and I were alone, but I refused to meet his gaze. I didn't know what to say.

"Yeah my mom attacked me last night because she didn't remember me. I tried calling you but your phone was off so I had to call Folio."

Well, it was the truth which I'm sure Noah would appreciate.

The part of me that was apprehensive of this relationship was screaming at me to push him away because he wasn't there when I needed him.

But it was an honest mistake. He called you this morning as soon as he noticed all the missed calls.

"Angel," Noah's voice was quiet. "What happened to your knee? And your neck?"

It was hard to slip into a pair of jeans with the swelling of my knee so I was currently sporting my Bad Omens joggers. But even those couldn't the way I limped as I took a step closer to him.

"It's kind of a long story. It's why Folio and I are late," I began.

"Wait, you two were together?"

I slowly nodded. "Nothing happened like the way you're thinking, Noah."

He scoffed while stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his pants. "What am I supposed to think? You two show up with scratches and bites on your neck. And you two were together all day while ignoring me?"

This time I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. "Don't you dare pull that shit. I tried calling you last night; over and over. You didn't answer. Folio did."

Okay, low blow. But I was still pretty upset.

"I already told you-."

"Your phone died, yes I know. But I didn't know who else to call, Noah. I needed help," I let out a shuddered breath.

His eyes softened. "I'm sorry, angel. I should have been there. We didn't even stay at the bar that long. I had two beers but was exhausted so we went back to Bryans. If you're worried I did something-."

"No," I immediately shot that idea down. "I trust you. But seems like you don't trust me."

Noah's face fell. "I do, angel. But can you see where I'm coming from? I see how close you and Folio are and makes me wonder what is so bad in your life that you'll tell him but not me?"

Guilt ate away at me when I realized how much my secrets affected him.

"I'm sorry. I want to tell you, I do. Last night was a rough night with my mom and I couldn't do it on my own."

"Everything alright?" Noah questioned as his hands reached for mine to pull me closer.

I winced in pain as the movement tweaked my knee. Noah jerked his hand back thinking he did something, so I waved him off.

"It's my knee. It's fucked up and really hurts," I said.

Before Noah could do anything, my phone rang from my purse and knowing it was Lana, I held up a finger to him.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Dear, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. The pain is pretty bad but I'll manage."

"I agree with Nicholas; you should have stayed home tonight. I'm sure Mr. Sebastian would understand."

I let out a laugh, a genuine laugh. "Why do you always insist on calling him Mr. Sebastian? You make it sound like he should be my dad's age."

At the mention of my dad, I suddenly remembered what my mom had spewed in her hysteria state. But not wanting to dwell on it right now, I cast a glance up to Noah who was watching me with a raised brow.

"Mr. Sebastian?" He questioned with his brows pulled together.

I pulled the phone away from my ear momentarily. "I'll explain later, I promise. You should get started on soundcheck."

Noah wrapped an arm around my midsection as he tipped my chin up towards him. "I'm holding you to that promise, angel."

His soft lips met mine in a quick but deep kiss, one that made my head swirl. When he pulled away, I looked at him with starry eyes and a small curve to my lips.

"You don't know how much I needed that," I admitted.

He winked before slipping away from me to head to the stage. "You know where to find me if you need more. Or something else."

I heard my name being called and remembering Lana was on the phone; I turned back to our conversation.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Your mother woke up a few hours ago with no recollection of what happened."

I exhaled. "Yeah, I figured."

"It's probably for the best."

"Hmm," I bit my lip. "Hey, Lana. Has my mom ever talked about someone named Lincoln? Or James?"

There was silence on her end for a moment, as if she was thinking it over.

"I haven't heard the name James, but your mother has talked about a Lincoln a few times. From what I gathered; they were together years ago."

"Did she mention a last name?" I pressed.

"Something Irish. I think it was Keoghan or Boyle."

I hummed, mewling over the words, and Lana could tell even through the phone that I was thinking too hard about this subject.

"Don't dwell on it, dear. It could be a story she made up in her mind."

"Yeah," I bit the inside of my cheek.

The guys started up their sound check, so I turned my back to the stage and slowly limped towards the far end of the room to hear better.

"I really appreciate you staying even with what happened last night. There's only two more weeks left on tour and when I get home, we can tour some facilities you recommended."

"Anything for you. I'll call you if anything happens."

With our goodbyes, I pocketed my phone and looked back to the stage. The guys were running through their songs in a quick pace, knowing they were short on time. As I began walking back to them, hoping to snap a few pictures, a yelp of pain erupted from my throat as my knee was practically screaming at me to stop moving.

"Y/N!"

The noise of instruments and Noah's voice halted as Folio stood up from behind his drums. "For the love of God, go sit down before you fuck up your knee even more!"

"I'm fine!" I shot back.

Folio then pointed a drum stick towards Noah. "She's your girl. Maybe she'll listen to you."

As I went to protest yet again, Noah jumped off of the stage and scooped me into his arms to carry me bridal style through backstage towards the green room.

"Noah, I can walk."

He gave me a sideway glance as if saying yeah right and once we were in the room, he gently set me down on the couch there. My camera bag was tossed onto the table in front of me, next to his laptop, and with a firm finger Noah pointed to me.

"You don't have to explain everything right now but what the hell happened to you?"

With slumped shoulders, I exhaled knowing that this conversation would happen at some point.

"My mom hit me in the knee with a bat then scratched and bit my neck," I brushed a finger over the bandage there.

Noah's body went rigid, his thoughts quickly thinking the worst, so I waved my hand around.

"It's not what you think. She-." My voice trailed off, trying to find the right words to say without giving too much away. "It's a long story, but she's sick. Folio tried to help, but she attacked him."

He ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. "I have to get back but tonight, you and I are sitting in the back room of the bus and you're telling me everything."

Knowing there was no use in arguing, I nodded. I wanted to tell Noah everything. Folio assured me that Noah wouldn't walk away, he'd stay by my side.

"Okay," I smiled. "It's a date."

Noah leaned down to press a kiss to my lips. "What a great first date."

I raised a playful brow. "Oh, here I thought last night in the storage closet was our first date."

His eyes turned dark as a low noise came from the back of his throat. "Be good, angel."

Before he walked through the door, I called for him and pointed to his laptop. "Is it alright if I use your laptop? I need to look something up."

"Of course."

Noah shut the door with one final smile, and I tentatively reached for the laptop. Thankfully, he had no password, and I froze momentarily at the picture he had set as a background. It was one of the four guys and me at one of their annual pre-tour parties. It was only the third day of working for them and before my first tour, so I had been nervous all night. Folio talked to me throughout the night, easing my worries, along with Davis. Since I previously knew him and it was him that got me the job, I hung by him most of the night.

In this picture, it was a group shot of everyone on the crew and the Bad Omens guys. For some odd batch of luck, I got put next to Noah, and it was when he still had his long hair; it being held back by a clip. This was also before the tension between us started so he had an arm around my shoulder while my hand was around his back.

It was the first time I saw this picture so a small gasp fell from my lips when I noticed Noah wasn't looking at the camera; his eyes were on me, who was oblivious to the whole thing, and a fond smile on his face.

Clearly, his feelings for me went as far back as that night.

With my own fond smile, I clicked on the internet browser and typed two words into the search bar.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #forced proximity #enemies to lovers #slow burn

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xdjville · 2 months

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cw: pretty detailed descriptions of a heavy make out

[10:10 pm] yangyang loves it when you're in charge. not when you ask for it, when you take it. when your kisses start off sweet and innocent, caressing his hair and smiling softly into against his lips, but you decide you want more than that. when you push him against the nearest wall, the sudden cold sending shivers down his spine, and press your mouth to his roughly. when your hand which was stroking his head starts pulling on his hair and he lets out quiet huffs at the feeling, your other palm pressed firmly against his chest and pushing him even further onto the wall behind. when you bite his lip and without waiting for a response slide your tongue inside, and he doesn't bother to put up a fight for dominance as you selfishly explore the recesses of his mouth. when he has to grab your shirt in his fists to ground himself, and when you pull away to ask if he's doing okay he can only nod fervently because all air has been sucked out of his lungs and his head is spinning, and all he can think about is you. when you chuckle at his eagerness and call him cute and your yangyang and all the other sickeningly sweet names that anyone else would get a death glare for, and you pull him close again, your mouth hovering above his just barely. when you slide the tip of your tongue over his bottom lip in an agonisingly slow pace and his vision gets hazy, and he tries to say something to make you kiss him again but he's breathing too deeply and shakily and all that's coming out of him are weak whines. when you pull him by his neck and finally join your lips once again with even more strength than before, your free hand sliding down his chest and stomach untill it reaches the hem of his t-shirt and swiftly sneaks its way underneath. he'd never admit it, but he loves it all.

author's note: here's a continuation of my yangyang kisser agenda (that started in this post)!! idk if it makes much sense but i thought about it at work and i'm crazy so now y'all will be too

also i'm still figuring out the layout for timestamps (as well as all of the other stuff) so don't be surprised if one day this post looks different!

➼♡ to the person in my taglist - if you're reading this, i didn't tag you because i'm not sure about your age (reading at your own expense love) and whether or not you're comfortable with things like this, i'll continue including you in other posts <3

©xdjville

#nct imagines #nct reactions #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #wayv imagines #kpop scenarios #wayv reactions #nct x reader #wayv x reader #wayv yangyang #nct yangyang #yangyang imagines

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kaleldobrev · 6 months

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Nice to Meet You (1) — Take Me Back Series

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After making a deal to bring you back, Sam doesn't see you until years later when your paths cross during a case

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | Hi, I just joined Tumblr and came across your blog, it's wonderful! I'd like to make a request, something between Sam and reader. The reader dies and Sam makes a pact to bring her back, but she comes back without remembering him and the hunting life. He thinks it's best to stay away from her. Years later they meet and she falls in love with him all over again, and when they kiss she regains her memory. Do you like it?

Chapter Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (4x)

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy chapter one! | I'll be creating a masterlist for this pretty soon | Let me know if you have any theories about what's going to happen next | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Read the Prologue Here

"I honestly can't believe this is happening," you said, your head in your hands. This was the fifth death at your shelter in less than a month, and you were honestly starting to feel like either yourself or the place was cursed. But you didn't know what could have possibly changed within the amount of time you've had this shelter. You've had this shelter for almost four years, and this was the first time that something awful had happened here; the last month being a literal living Hell.

You were particularly hard on yourself when it came to these deaths as they all happened while you were in the building, on your watch; and you felt as if you could have somehow stopped them, but you knew there was nothing you could have done. You've never fought in your life, nor have you ever used a gun, you were completely useless in a fight.

Due to the deaths, many of the teens in the shelter, along with some of the staff and volunteers had been talking about leaving, and it was something that you didn't blame them for. They trusted you, and you felt like you had completely disrupted their trust, despite you not being the cause of these deaths. But they came to your shelter for safety, and safety was something that they were currently not feeling.

There was a knock at your office door, and when you looked up, you noticed your friend Mel in the doorway, slight smile on her face. "Y/N, there are two FBI agents here that want to speak with you," she said.

"Fuck," you mumbled, "the FBI are involved now?" You said, exasperated. "Jesus," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. "Okay, send them in."

"Can do," Mel smiled.

"Really happy Y/N was able to start this place up," Dean said as him and Sam looked around waiting for Mel to come back.

"I am too. It's something she always talked about," Sam said, but he knew that he didn't have to tell Dean that, as he knew just as well as he did; as the both of them could recall numerous conversations in which the three of you would discuss you opening up a place like this.

"Y/N can talk to you now. Her office is just back there. Her name is on the door, you can't miss it," Mel smiled.

"Thank you," Sam nodded.

As Sam and Dean started to walk toward your office door, Sam felt as if his heart was beating a million miles an hour. Dean stopped in the middle of the hallway, stopping his younger brother from walking any further by placing his hand out in front of him. "You sure you're gonna be okay? Look I'll admit, it was a bit of a dick move of me to do this," Dean admitted.

"It's fine, honestly," Sam reassured. "I just want to make sure she's okay...given the circumstances...especially since it's her birthday," he slightly rambled.

"About that, don't even mention that it's her birthday," Dean said. "Because as far as she's concerned, she has no fucking clue who we are and we have no reason to know it's her birthday." Sam was about to open up his mouth to protest, but he decided against it, as there was a part of him that had wanted to wish you a happy birthday.

Another knock came at your door and when you looked up, it was the two FBI agents that Mel had mentioned to you. "Ms. Y/L/N?" the blonde-haired agent asked you.

"Yes, that's me," you replied, getting up from the chair. "But please call me —”

"Y/N," the taller brunette one interjected. You looked at him with a slightly confused expression, and you couldn't help but notice that his blonde-haired partner gave him an almost similar looking expression. "Your name. It's uh...on the...on the door," he slightly rambled, gesturing toward the sign outside of your door.

"Oh my gosh, yes, it is!" You exclaimed, almost slightly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry. This last month has honestly been one of the worst months of my life. I’d probably lose track of my own head if it weren’t attached to me.”

Both men gave you both smiles, humoring your joke. “I can imagine,” the blonde agent said. “And I’m sorry that we have to meet under these circumstances.”

“Definitely,” you said. “Oh how rude of me, I don’t think I caught your names.”

“Agents Sam and Dean Campbell, no relation,” Dean said, holding up his badge. He nudged Sam, who appeared to be the more nervous of the two. With that single nudge, Sam reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his badge, flashing it to you.

“Nice to meet you Sam and Dean,” you said, trying to smile again. “Mel told me you two wanted to talk to me about…the deaths here at the shelter.”

“Yes, if you don’t mind answering a few questions of course,” Sam said, giving you a gentle smile, a smile that somehow made you feel at ease.

“Of course. I want to catch the bastard who did these to my kids,” your voice slightly angry. “Pardon my French.”

“All good,” Sam answered, reassuring you.

“We’ve heard worse,” Dean added. Especially from you, he wanted to add.

“Oh I’m sure, considering the line of work you two are in,” you smiled.

“So, Miss. Y/L/N, did any of these victims have anything in common besides the fact that they were all runaways?” Sam asked, his voice genuinely filled with concern.

You shook your head. “Not really. I mean, yeah, they had a few things in common like favorite shows, games. But all five of them came from vastly different backgrounds.”

“Did any of them do or say anything that seemed out of the ordinary before they died?” Dean asked.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like speak a language you haven’t heard them speak before, draw any interesting looking symbols,” Dean said, rattling these things off as if it were second nature to him.

You raised a brow at his answer, finding it a bit odd. “Um, not that I can think of,” you admitted, sounding a little hesitant and slightly confused. “They were all really, really good kids. They didn't mess with...the occult if that's what you're implying. None of my kids to."

"No, that's not what we're implying at all," Sam interjected.

"Then what are you implying?" You asked, a bit of defensiveness in your voice.

"We're just trying to figure out why these five were chosen in particular," Sam began, his voice sounding relatively calm. "The way they were found and the way they were killed it resembles occult practices."

You sighed. "I'm sorry," you said, your head in your hands again. "I'm just so angry. I don't understand why people would target teenagers. Especially killing them in that way. I mean, who the fuck drains blood like that?"

"That's why we're here Y/N," Sam spoke again, and you raised your head to look at him. "Is there anyone you could think of that might be involved?"

You shook your head. "No. All of my volunteers and staff I vetted myself. All of their intentions are good."

Sam and Dean both nodded. "Is there a way we could get a copy of who was in the building during the time of the murders?" Dean asked.

"Of course," you agreed. "Anything both of you need in order to figure out who did this."

“You know, I was really expecting you to hug her,” Dean said, as the two of them entered their motel room.

“I know how to be professional Dean,” Sam scoffed.

“You know, after this is all over, maybe you could ask her out. I’m sure she’ll say yes,” Dean grinned.

“She’s better off without me Dean,” Sam said opening up his laptop. “Besides, last thing she needs is me lying to her about me being in the FBI.”

“You could always tell her the truth,” Dean suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

“That would not be a good idea and you know that,” Sam scoffed.

“It’s not like this stuff is new to her man,” Dean said.

“The deal was, she forgets everything about hunting. That included the whole monsters are real thing,” Sam stated. “Honestly, asking her out again would be too much of a risk.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

“What if the demon finds out and she drops dead?” Sam questioned.

“The deal was she forgets you. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t still ask her out,” Dean said. “Besides, you’re fucking miserable without her, and you can’t tell me differently.” The past four years without you had truly affected Sam in ways that he didn’t think, and it was something that not only Dean had noticed, but Jack and Cas as well. Sam didn’t think Dean knew about how he constantly still looks at pictures of you, or constantly listens to the last voicemail you had left him, or how he constantly watches your favorite movies or tv shows over and over again. But these were things that Dean had known about, as he himself found himself reminiscing about things you and him had done together. Inside jokes between the two of you, or how you would help him be his wingwoman on occasion. “I just haven’t seen you happy in a long time.”

“It’s better this way. She’s…she’s not in danger anymore,” Sam said, his voice defeated. He was miserable without you, but you being safe was all that mattered to him.

In the next chapter...

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You asked her. “I have literally never met Sam or Dean before this.”

“Aw sweetheart, but you have. But, it’s not really your fault for not remembering, that’s what the deal was,” she said.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @octoberclidan @kidwhofixates @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @fuiabarcelos @foxyjwls007 @crystal555 @hannahisthebanana @seamlessepiphany @madzzz0797 @midorimachisenpaii @sammysnaughtygirl @missscarlettangel @frozenhuntress67 @snakebxtez @crystalandphoebewifey @coldspoons If you'd like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

#Sam Winchester x you #Sam Winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #Sam x you #Sam x reader #reader insert #female reader

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swee7dream · 8 months

Text

nct dream as partners to an age regressor nct dream x f! reader

author's note: hihi! first time blogging, kinda nervous... i've had this idea in my little marble head for quite some time and now here i am posting it !

dni: if you sexualize age regression and/or have an 18+ blog.

genres & content warnings: fluff fluff fluff. no warnings !

이민형 | mark lee

ur gonna be the death of him. poor boy is stressed 25/8

he's doing his best but he still doesn't quite understand at times

a quality time lover ! sometimes he gets so immersed in his own thing he doesn't notice you switch tasks until it's too late,,,,

"oh no! oh dude... i'm so sorry man, c'mere. no, don't apologize. it's my fault. it's ok. you can cry all you want. let's just get a bandaid on that gnarly cut, okay?"

when he's sorry, he means it ! after the pb&j knife switcheroo incident, he made sure to set alarms to make your meals just in case you've regressed that day and can't (safely) make your own food

a very good listener ! he loves listening to u talk for hours and hours and hours and hours and

listens intently to the explanation of your shows, the names of your plushies, and the storylines currently on going as you play pretend

loves playing pretend. at first, he was a bit shy, breaking character and laughing into his hands when embarrassment got the best of him, but now bro is confident! u could place him in a broadway show and no one would think he's out of place

could be said he was actually the one who made the first move to play pretend.

"...whatcha doing?" "playing" "...what are you playing?" after being burned under your x-ray vision gaze for no less than 5 seconds, you hand him a plushie and 'insist' on him playing with you

not one for titles or nicknames. mark is mark, you are you!

punishments are the last of his worries. hopefully, you don't make it rise the ranks

황런쥔 | huang renjun

manners freak

"ah!" he always has to hold whatever you asked for out of your reach. "what do we say? it starts with a t and ends with a 'you'."

does all sorts of crafts with you

one time, he drew your favorite character and you loved it so much you made him put it on your wall then and there. he was undermining it and complaining that he didn't want to get up and do all the work that involves framing it but the smile and blush on his face told a different story

lets you put stickers on him! only the pretty ones that he's approved beforehand. and NOT on his hair. he's chinese, not korean. he doesn't need the military service buzzcut

like mark, not big on titles. they make him uncomfortable tbh. nicknames for you, however, he does quite like (tiny, munchkin, etc.).

happy to let you be independent while regressed under STRICT supervision

goes so far as to make little songs and jingles to you can sing along to as you perform certain tasks so you both know you're doing things safely and correctly even when out of his eyesight

ur complete coloring pages go right next to his pieces of art on the fridge. u are both artists !

lullabies are a must. the man is a singer for a living ! good night! z Z z ....

punishments usually consist of renjun nagging on for over an hour. you don't really tend to listen. it's mostly for him to let out his frustration before the big stepper comes for you.

"and NO ice cream this weekend!" "NO!"

이제노 | lee jeno

first one to actually not mind titles ! he can live without them but they scratch an itch in his brain like nothing else can

two words: cute aggression. leans in to kiss your cheek only to bite it. he bites your nose. he bites your EARS ?! someone lock this man up !

hugs you in a way that presses the cheeks of the two of you until you look like twins conjoined at the head

the cuddliest man ever like i've never seen a more teddy bear-coded individual?!?!?!

"gotta pee." "hold it." "i can't!" grumbling jeno noises

started going back to the gym after seeing how much he you like being carried

he doesn't really talk a lot when in cg mode, but you've known him long enough that you can read his body language just fine

might actually be in cg space more than you are regressed !

just anything that you do, big or little. it's so precious to him. he feels the urge to just protect you from everything!!!

no !!! u can't go outside !!! what if bugs bite u?!!! oh u brought bug spray? ok... send him a message of when u get on the bus! and when u get off the bus! and to ur friend's house! actually, just let him drive u ok? give him five minutes to change !

the worst at dishing out punishments out of all of dream. a pout, a teary eye, a sniffle, he's unraveling at the seams.

he sits on a chair by the bed, arms crossed with a stern look. you could shatter it with a bat of your lashes, but you know you need this.

"i'll be sitting here until you fall asleep. we could've played chutes and ladders tonight like you wanted if you hadn't thrown away your veggies, angel."

이동혁 | lee donghyuck

he is the baby. wdym you are ?

poor boy is used to being the youngest and acting cute, what is he supposed to do now that the tables are turned?

at the beginning, it's lots of awkward head pats and hugs of comfort.

sits you on his lap while he's gaming, playing with you and your toys in between matches

kind of insecure to be ur cg :( give the boy praise and appreciation!

"you," he sighs, looking away from you. "you should really be in bed by now. it's past your bedtime." "but you're not asleep." another sigh. "i know..."

when his confidence and comfortability is up tho? big big BIG on the baby talk and praise to the point you have to remind him you guys are in public!!! it started out as a joke (yk how he is, being annoying on purpose with his main weapon being aegyo). he doesn't think it's a joke anymore guys,,,,,,,,,,,,,

titles are goofy to haechan. he calls you the same he always does.

"what about me? did i do a good job today?" he asks, striking a ridiculous pose. "yeah ! you're the best, chan ! :D" "... :( thank u baby :,("

punishments don't exist actually! he's right there next to you. silly string all over the room? it was his idea to play spiders. veggies thrown away? impossible. he never bought them to begin with. didn't do your assignment? was it that important to begin with? hyuck doesn't think so

might be a regressor too ! on the older side, perhaps (pre-teen - teenage)

나재민 | na jaemin

terrible for big space. just the absolute worst

baby talk and aegyo is not an action for him, it's a lifestyle. makes you do one or the other (or both if he's feeling particularly sadistic i mean playful) if you want something or as a punishment on the lighter side

probably made you slip multiple times before you even told him you regress

all the cheesy, cringy, cliche stuff? he does that. shamelessly too

loves titles and uses them on himself even if you don't. doesn't make you call him anything, but he loves how it 'rolls off the tongue so well!'

he's an addict to nicknames for you. finds them randomly

"oh man, look at that rabbit! it's so cute!" "just like y/n" "what" just randomly takes out his phone in the middle of walking to text you nana: hi bunny you: ? you: hi?

acts of service are his natural calling. you might as well be quadriplegic.

makes your favorite drink for you! ur too little to do it urself !!! let him do it for u (pls pls pls pls pls he's on his knees)

also makes lunches for you that are all pretty and shaped like some sort of animal when ur feeling small ! he stopped doing cats though since one time you felt like you were eating luna and cried.

you two literally fight to death about who loves who the most. jaemin has to be tied to a chair in the basement of an abandoned building to let you do literally anything for him

punishments are extremely rare. virtually non-existent. he prefers to talk things through and give rewards rather than take away

health is important! it's so so important to him he set up a meal plan where you eat the rainbow three times a day.

makes you exercise with him.........

"i'll be home in about half an hour, jellybean. do you think you could finish a bottle of water by then? i know you can. i'll see you soon, okay?"

종천러 | zhong chenle

you know those people that talk to babies like they're grown people that pay taxes and drink alcohol? that's chenle

he knows you've regressed and you're not in the mindset of an adult anymore, but he isn't a big baby talk person like jaemin is

the nicknames he uses for you are very classic so he can use them both in public and in private (doll, dollface, princess, etc.)

surprisingly into his role as cg? like, he has a chart set up for you and everything. if he's abroad/not around, he'll call you so you can place the gold stars yourself in his behalf

another manners enthusiast

uses titles for himself and expects you to use them too

"'can i have dessert please, what?', princess? what word is missing from that sentence?"

doesn't say much but always keeps an eye or hand on you in public.

bro is nonchalant (for the most part. just don't read his locked notes)

"a gift? i didn't buy you anything" LIAR. "what pink box? have you opened it? bring it over here. let me see"

he's very patient, just stern since he has strict boundaries and rules. constantly encouraging you to have firm boundaries as well.

"is this ok?" "do you not like this?" "how do you feel about that?"

go-to punishment is writing lines. always gives you a yogurt or some other snack when you finish. mostly does it for himself, he doesn't like staying on the subject of punishment/bad behavior. there's better things to do in his opinion

his favorite activity to do with you when small is your text message conversations. no words, no talking, just a photo message from you (!!!! look what i'm doing !!!!) and a photo from him in response (!!!! good job i'm so proud of you !!!! here's what i'm doing !!!!)

박지성 | park jisung

a lot like mark, not a fans of titles or nicknames

more of a listener. has lots of questions but doesn't want to interrupt the groove with which you're explaining the lore of equestria so he just nods his head in hopes that he'll understand with time and context

the one who would adjust the fastest to learning about your age regression out of all the dreamies. give him five minutes and he'll be like "...ok. wanna watch tv now?"

jisung is so !!! silly !!!

a goofy boy. he loves making exaggerated reactions and expressions to make you laugh

"gah-!" you've hit him with an invisible arrow! jisung holds his chest, stumbling back to slowly fall down onto the floor. very very slowly. "you've shot me... i can feel my life force leaving me... why... would you do this...? bleh."

kind of has a sixth sense for you. if something triggers you and makes you slip in public, he's like a cat that heard something no one else can.

pulsing your hand in his to get your attention only for you to avoid eye contact is a dead giveaway. he might not always be able to leave the event, but he makes sure to give you a break of just you two. breathing exercises, grounding techniques, he also lets you play with the plush toy keychain he bought for occasions just like these.

the first time you shutdown verbally when small, jisung panics! he's running around looking up on the internet how to 'talk without talking'. now he's a baby sign language expert. good job, you! /gen

can u tell this came from a jaemin delusion? he's just so cg coded my LORD ㅠㅠ

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