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sidekick-hero · 2 months

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He runs for his life, his paws hitting the snowy ground with heavy thumps. His flank hurts where the bullet buried itself, but it's distant, drowned out by his instinct to survive. He can't afford to slow down, so he pushes through, letting his instincts carry him as fast as his legs will take him.

His pursuers are only human, not equipped to keep up with a nearly grown wolf. But he's hurt, and he's exhausted, and they have guns.

Part of him wonders why he's even trying to save himself.

They killed the whole village. His parents, his friends, his neighbors. They all burned to death, and those who managed to escape the flames were slaughtered by the hunters. All except him, who managed to escape through the secret tunnels beneath their home, while his parents stayed behind to fight off the invaders.

The Harringtons had been the alphas of their pack, and it was their responsibility to protect the pack with their lives.

None of them deserved to die. No one in their pack had ever hurt a human. They hardly ever saw one, choosing to live as far away from their settlements as possible while still being able to trade with them for the goods they couldn't produce.

It didn't matter to the hunters who came late at night and ambushed them in their sleep. In their eyes, they were monsters. His parents always warned him that humans would never understand them, would always fear them, and fear breeds hatred. Humans couldn't be trusted, they weren't safe.

Back when that meant he couldn't be friends with the daughter of the blacksmith his parents did business with, he refused to believe them. But now it seems that they were always right.

Humans are not to be trusted. They're not safe.

It feels like Steve has been running for hours and still he hears them following him, following his bloody trail. They're not even stealthy, branches snapping, shouts and the occasional gunshot. He's not sure how much longer he can keep going, the pain and exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He's so focused on listening to the hunters behind him that he doesn't really look where he's going, just runs and runs and runs.

Suddenly the world turns upside down, the pain in his flank flares up, white-hot, and then everything goes dark.

He comes to slowly, his senses catching up with reality one by one.

It's warm where he lies, the sharp smell of burning wood heavy in the air. Panic rises in his throat and he can't stop the whine falling from his muzzle, it must mean he didn't make it out after all, he's still trapped in the burning ruins of his home. He's going to die here, burned alive like everyone else he's known since he was a pup.

His ears pick up other sounds over the crackling of a nearby fire. Someone is here, Steve can smell them. Smell him. It's a human, a man. His scent is strong, clinging to the soft blanket Steve can feel beneath him. He's humming a familiar tune, his voice deep and melodic, and Steve can't believe he's about to die with the tune of a nursery rhyme stuck in his head.

Heavy footsteps are coming toward him, and Steve hasn't opened his eyes yet, but he thinks the guy is wearing heavy boots. It's winter, after all, and humans don't run as hot as wolves, completely unprotected from the harshness of the season.

His whole body aches, every limb is heavy, and exhaustion is trying to drag him under again. Steve knows he's in no condition to fight, that he won't last more than a few seconds before the human kills him, but he won't die without a fight. That's not who he is.

So when he feels the human stop in front of him and fall to his knees beside Steve's motionless body, Steve attacks.

Well, he tries. But his body won't cooperate, the pain makes him so dizzy that he almost loses consciousness as he tries to rise enough to sink his teeth into the human's soft flesh. He sinks back down, with pained whimpers he tries to suppress but can't.

"Shh, hey, it's okay, buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise. I'm trying to help you, but you are gonna have to stay still and let me, okay?"

It doesn't make any sense, none of it, but he's so tired and the voice talking to him sounds so nice, warm and soothing. It makes him want to lie still and let it wash over him. With the last of his strength, he blinks his eyes open to look at the man who is about to end his life, no matter what his alluring voice promises.

The last thing Steve sees before the pain and exhaustion pulls him back under are the man's eyes. They were a rich, dark brown, like melted chocolate under a gentle heat. Their warmth held a soft depth, inviting and comforting, reminiscent of a cozy fireplace on a chilly evening. With each gaze, it was as if the soft flicker of candlelight danced within them, creating an aura of quiet reassurance.

The next time Steve is awake, he feels better. He's still weak, but the bone-deep exhaustion has eased. So has the pain, a dull ache rather than a white-hot agony that sets his nerves on fire. As he comes more and more to himself, his brain clearing the haze of sleep, he takes stock.

He's still alive.

He's still surrounded by the scent of the man who found him.

He's comfortable, a soft surface and blankets beneath him.

He's starving.

As if he heard Steve's thoughts - or more likely his growling stomach - Steve hears the man approaching again. Opening his eyes blearily, Steve sees him standing in the doorway with a plate in his hand, and the smell that hits Steve's nose makes his empty stomach cramp with hunger, and saliva floods his mouth. Roasted chicken, Steve's favorite.

"Look who's awake," the man says, and Steve wonders if he knows who Steve is or if he's one of those guys who talks to animals. He really hopes it's the latter, because that makes his chances of survival at least a little better.

The man takes another two steps towards him, but then stops and looks at him cautiously.

"Okay, last time didn't go so well, huh?" He asks, but Steve thinks it's more rhetorical. "I've got food for you, so please don't bite me? God, it's a good thing Wayne isn't here or he'd think I'd finally lost it, talking to a wolf."

Shaking his head, the man comes closer and Steve takes in his appearance. He doesn't look particularly dangerous, rather slender with dark curls and a pale complexion. He doesn't carry any weapons, but he does have an ugly scar on his face. It must have been a deep cut, and it runs in a jagged line across his cheek.

Steve tries to lift his head when the man is close enough to strike, but he only manages a few inches before sinking back down with a soft whine.

"Hey, hey, hey, you shouldn't move yet, sweetheart. It's a miracle nothing's broken, as far as I can tell, but that bullet really did a number on you, almost like it was poisoned. Bastards to do this to another being."

Silver bullet, Steve thinks. That explains the intense pain and weakness.

Then he forgets all about it the moment the smell of the chicken intensifies as the man reaches out to Steve's muzzle with a large chunk of meat between his fingers. The man, if you can call him that, probably about Steve's age, looks terrified as he does so, but he doesn't stop until Steve can close his teeth around the meat and pull it into his mouth. When the meat is gone, Steve chewing happily and the guy still in possession of all five fingers, his host breathes a sigh of relief.

"Shit, man, that was scary," the man laughs, his dimples popping. He beams at Steve as he hands him another large chunk of chicken.

This human is so weird, Steve thinks. Talking to a wolf like it's a human, chastising hunters for wounding it with what he thinks is a poisoned bullet. Feeding it its own rations by hand, during a harsh winter, no less.

Whatever plan is behind this: Steve doesn't understand it. But he's too weak to think much about it, because as soon as the plate is empty and his stomach comfortably full, Steve sinks back under.

He dreams of soft hands stroking his fur, and of someone softly singing to him the lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was a pup and woke up from a nightmare.

It becomes routine as Steve's body fights off the effects of the silver bullet.

The man, whose name was Eddie, as Steve learned during one of the many times he was sort of talking to himself, fed him meat by hand, and sometimes broth and potatoes. Every two days he would also dress his wound, always clicking his tongue at the state of it and muttering about asshole hunters.

Eddie always talked while tending to Steve, at first telling him how his body was healing and what Eddie was doing to help him. But after a while, he began to tell Steve about his days and his chores, regaling Steve with tales of his adventures while gathering firewood or preparing meals for them. It was surprisingly comforting to listen to Eddie talk, his stories always funny and dramatic, with a hint of self-deprecation.

It didn't make sense to Steve why Eddie was doing all this until one night he started talking about his uncle, who had gone to the city to find work to better support them and hadn't been home in months.

It was then that Steve realized that Eddie was lonely.

He'd been alone in that cabin in the middle of the woods for months until he found Steve lying in a ravine and carried him home.

Steve was the closest thing Eddie had to a companion in months.

Knowing that eased some of the apprehension he felt toward Eddie, because it seemed that as long as the man didn't know that Steve wasn't an ordinary wolf, he didn't have to be afraid of him.

Three weeks after Steve first woke up in Eddie's cabin, he manages to get up on weak legs and take a few tentative steps before collapsing again.

Eddie is there to catch him and by then his hands are welcome on Steve's body.

They are always gentle with Steve, stroking his fur and snout, scratching behind his ears just right. Eddie touches him all the time now, and Steve has no idea how he feels about it.

That's not entirely true, he has an inkling of what the warmth means that spreads through his body when Eddie lies down behind him on the mattress he'd put in front of the fireplace so Steve would be warm while he healed. Every night, Eddie would bury his face in Steve's fur right at his neck, a vulnerable place only close members of a pack were ever allowed to put their snouts, and stroke Steve's side and belly with gentle hands until they both drifted off to sleep.

Everything smelled of Eddie. Steve smelled of Eddie.

And Eddie had begun to smell of Steve.

It made his inner wolf purr with satisfaction, and that was such a phenomenally bad idea.

That's why Steve is trying to get back on his feet as quickly as possible, so he can leave before these feelings that have started to grow in his heart get any worse.

Eddie is human.

Humans are not to be trusted. They are not safe.

But Eddie feels safe.

Worse, he is starting to feel a lot like mate, and Eddie has no idea what that even means.

"Careful, Koda. You're still healing. There's no rush, y'know. You can stay here as long as you want, okay? This is your home now, too."

Steve whines softly at the ache in Eddie's voice and licks his neck and face to comfort him. The wet tongue probably tickles because it makes Eddie laugh, and he buries his face in the thick fur at the front of Steve's neck.

And Steve just lets him, lets him press his mouth against his throat while he nuzzles behind Eddie's ear and breathes in his scent.

Steve is fucked.

It all comes to a head a few weeks later.

Steve is now back on his feet and uses his new mobility to follow Eddie around and keep him company while he does his chores, often dozing next to him while he cooks or chops wood or sorts through their rapidly dwindling supplies. Soon Eddie will have to go hunting to keep them stocked with meat, and Eddie hates the thought. He doesn't want to hurt another creature.

That's why Steve decides to go hunting for his human. He can provide for him.

A week later, he leaves in the middle of the night, carefully slipping out of Eddie's arms around him and trotting through the little door that Eddie built into his door so that Steve could relieve himself whenever he needed to.

It goes better than Steve expected, his muscles still not back to where they used to be, but stronger and faster than he would have thought after weeks of lying around. He follows the tracks of a deer for almost an hour before he finally finds it. The hunt itself is short, the wind comes from the right direction, and the deer clearly doesn't sense him until it's too late.

Steve kills it as quickly and painlessly as possible, sure that Eddie would want him to. He thinks he would do anything to make Eddie happy.

When Steve comes back from the woods, he's dragging the deer's body with his snout, wishing he could just shift back into his human body because it would be so much easier with his hands. But the shift takes a lot out of an already weakened body, and he can't risk it. In a few weeks it will be as easy as breathing again, he's sure of that, but right now it could be a serious setback in his recovery.

He can already see the cabin through the trees when he hears Eddie's voice calling for him. He sounds panicked and Steve immediately drops his prey to run to his mate.

Eddie is not even wearing a jacket, his breath coming out in clouds of condensed air as he stumbles through the glittering snow, calling for Koda.

He calls for his wolf with panicked tears in his voice and Steve barrels into him without a second's hesitation. Eddie falls to the ground, his arms full of Steve, his hands clutching Steve's fur as if he's afraid this is a dream and Steve will disappear again.

"Koda? Oh my God, where the hell have you been? I was worried sick. I thought you just disappeared." Eddie sits up, his arms never letting go of where they are wrapped around Steve, and Steve can smell the tears on his face. He carefully licks them away as more and more follow. "Please don't leave me, please, please, please," Eddie keeps begging him, his whole body shaking and Steve wants to shift so badly. He wants to take his mate in his arms and hold him, soothe his pain and fear and promise him that he'll never leave him.

So even though he knows better, he does.

One moment Eddie is holding a big, brown wolf in his arms, and the next he is holding a very human, very naked man in his lap.

If Steve wasn't scared to death of how Eddie will react, he would laugh at the high-pitched squeal Eddie lets out when he realizes what has happened.

"Hi," Steve says, waving at Eddie with fluttering fingers. Not his smoothest moment, but to be fair, this isn't how he usually approaches someone he's attracted to. For once he is usually wearing a lot more clothes.

"Uhhh, hi?" Eddie asks, stunned. "Who... Wait, not important right now. Where is my wolf? My Koda. I just got him back."

Steve is pretty sure that Eddie must be in shock and not thinking clearly, but it warms his heart how attached he is to Steve's wolf. He hopes he can get him to like his human side just as much.

Deciding it's best to just come clean with Eddie, Steve exclaims, "Tada," and does a very silly imitation of jazz hands.

Eddie just blinks at him with big eyes.

Okay, Plan B it is, Steve thinks. "I'm him. I'm Koda. Or, well, no, I'm Steve, but you couldn't know that. But, um, yeah, I'm your wolf?" Steve cringes at the your, but it's too late to take it back, and besides, he really wants to be Eddie's wolf.

He wants to be Eddie's everything.

"I knew it!"

Eddie's sudden outburst startles Steve so much that he almost falls off Eddie's lap before Eddie's arms tighten around him.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just... my mom told me about wolves that could turn into humans. She used to tell me stories about how they used to be the protectors of villages and towns, the friends and companions of humans, before some humans turned against them, jealous of the admiration and status they had with the villagers, and drove them away. Mama said that when a wolf chooses you as a mate, you are blessed for life. She always wanted to meet one of you."

Steve knows about Eddie's mother, another story he told Steve under the protective cover of night as they lay on their mattress, Steve's fur soaking up Eddie's tears as he talked about losing his mother when he was only ten.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Steve still has to ask, his heart beating as fast as the wings of a bird taking flight.

Eddie looks at him as if the thought had never occurred to him. "Afraid of you? Koda... I mean, Stevie, can I call you Stevie?" at Steve's nod Eddie continues, "Are you going to hurt me?"

Now it's Steve's turn to look at Eddie in disbelief. "What? No! Never! Eddie, I promise I would never hurt you. I just thought that you..."

"That I would hurt you if I found out what you are?" Eddie asks quietly, his thumb stroking Steve's collarbone.

"Yes," Steve admits in a low voice. "But not anymore."

"No?" He sounds so hopeful when he asks this, so trusting in the way he holds Steve in his arms, even after learning of Steve's true nature. Steve smiles down at the man who saved him, who tended to him, who cared for him.

His human.

His mate, if Eddie will let him. Steve thinks he might.

"No, I feel safe with you."

Eddie's answering smile is blinding, and Steve has to kiss him, right here in the snow, sitting buck naked in Eddie's lap, the morning sun bathing them in its hopeful light.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #werewolf steve harrington #human eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #day 10 #love is feeling safe #my writing

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dev1lm4n · 1 year

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shroom

pairings: joel miller x f!reader

summary: in which you tried to help your grumpy mentor get over the mushroom's aphrodisiac side effect.

word count: 3.9k (gosh yea i went over the top with this)

warnings: explicit (18+), no actual penetration, thigh fucking, slight age-gap and reader's implied to be an orphan.

notes: honestly this is just a reason to write desperate joel but oh well :)

What lies beneath the gray-ish rocks were dove gray with a subtle hint of purple. Fresh air broke through your nasal cavities, gusts of wind combing your loose strands gently like a doting mother. Even in a photograph you could quickly take into account that it was peak summer, for the steep valleys are finally visible and pretty asters bloom abundantly on every inch of green.

You would’ve guessed mid June was the cause of these heavenly blessings. The rest of the year the ranges were as white-peaked as any storybook mountains and they were especially cruel to visitors. Summer was just more so your cup of tea.

Despite the relentless sun rays burning your skin and the itchiness from sweat and mosquitos, it’s a lot more inviting. Felt a lot like a long awaited vacation, one where you’d get tanned with friends on seashores and gossip about boys like it was the most important thing on earth. Things like that are simply left for your imagination. The United States of America hasn't been as liberating, ever since Cordyceps happened.

It’s not the first time you scaled along the wilderness in order to get to your destination unharmed. Without getting bitten by chomping, pestering infected, or worse, people. Nature is just naturally serene. A hug of browns, a shelter of long dwindling limbs, and a variety of edible materials that’s free to use. You were a quick learner and a considerably great adaptor.

From dusty books piled up in your home, a FEDRA orphanage, you picked up knowledge on a collection of plants and animals native to the country. Being a resourceful forager might’ve been your one and only redeemable feature, and perhaps the only reason why Joel Miller agreed to bring you along on his trips.

Tess was the one who scouted you in the most bizarre fashion possible. You remembered vividly how she interrogated the fungi you picked on the city’s outskirts, asking why you’d pick up the one thing people refrain from eating these days. You remembered the amused look she had on her face, but it was all too long ago. Too long you’re starting to forget what she looked like smiling and full of hope. Time has passed and you’re not the same snotty, bratty teenager anymore.

Though, you’re not exactly grown.

Still budding with youthful stupidity and brashness.

Which is where Joel came in handy. He was your tamer. The one who’d put a rough hand down when you’re being too rash in making decisions. The one who’d tug on your leash when you’re an exploding mess of fury. Tess was kinder and sweeter and.. more of a makeshift mother figure to you, while Joel was whatever he was. He wasn’t introduced into the picture until last winter where you managed to get two different people hunting for your head. Which you still insist wasn’t entirely your fault.

Tess was worried, you understood, but he’s a real mood killer at times.

You watched along the trees, how they swayed in a warming breeze. Hands tied behind your back as you hummed a nursery rhyme fondly. This time it was ‘London Bridge is Falling Down’ on repeat for a billion times, which you’re sure is going to get some unappeased comments from the ball of grouch behind you. He always hated anything fun. Always chalking it up to being far too dangerous or distracting. You were even banned from keeping a firearm around him. What a joke.

“Quit singin’. You’re going to attract trouble.”

“Fucking hell.”

“What was that?”

“You’re such a bore, Joel.”

You could feel his gaze on the back of your head, probably looking at you as if you’re a foul harm to society. Tess always said that it’s just the way he looks but you don’t buy it. You’ve seen the way he smiled at a thing she said, even when it’s closer to a shy grin than a full ear-to-ear smile. An exasperated sigh was all you heard from him next, then a few grumbles about how you two are going to set camp next to a large pine tree as it’s getting late.

“It’s getting late or are your old knees aching?”

“What’re you doin’?”

Joel’s voice almost shook your skin off your bones. There was a delicious moment when you turned on your heels to face him, face washed blank with confusion, like your brain cogs couldn’t turn fast enough to process the information. It’s like you’re caught popping his favorite pills, when it really was just another one of your fascinating finds. You weren’t planning on sharing with him out of all people, so you were visibly annoyed. The distasteful twist of your lips had him scowling.

“It’s just food. Reishi mushroom.”

You showcased the fungus, waving it in front of his scrunched nose. The mushroom was reddish brown varnished with kidney-shaped caps that fanned out the closer it got to the ends. It’s supposedly bitter tasting, but it wasn’t poisonous. You looked convinced enough it wouldn’t straight-up kill the both of you upon tasting, even when it’s your first time encountering such a species.

“You sure it’s not poisonous?”

“You could have the first bite if you’d like.”

He looked at you with that expression– the same one he put on when he’s interested in taking on your challenge instead of diffusing the bickering. It’s harder to see what he’s conspiring when the darkness is borderline blinding. You couldn’t cater to every wrinkle and divot on his face, even with great concentration. Joel reached for the mushroom and held it lightly against the rough pads of his fingers. Examining it much closer under moonlight’s glint.

“We’ll have it tonight as soup.”

His words were absolute, even when Tess is around. You knew that and he knew that. It was unspoken. You surrendered your merry bounty willingly without throwing a childish tantrum this time. He can be cruel and unapologetic; you weren’t exactly eager to go through that route with him. Especially when your first filling dinner is on the line. You simply nodded at his decision, twisting your tactical knife back into its shell and stuffing it deep into your cargo jeans. Slightly sour about the entire ordeal.

There was always something cathartic about having a filled stomach after a long day of trekking, borderline orgasmic if you had to describe it in another way. It was an extremely appreciated coincidence as well that Joel managed to have in hand an actual unopened can of Campbell’s Tomato Soup. Although horrifically passed its best-by date, it wasn’t rancid or anything. Just slightly sour, but you’re sure the preservatives on that can would do you a favor this once.

You could barely breathe upon settling down on your sleeping bag. The buttons on your cargos digging into your inflated stomach, in which you hastily undid once you’re entirely submerged in the parachute-like material. You huffed. Burped and earned an irritated grunt by none other than Joel Miller. Then let the chirping of crickets and rustling of leaves create a peaceful symphony to lull you to sleep. Gentle summer breeze carried the scent of pine and wildflowers, invigorating your senses. And you’re gone in just a split second.

It felt like being coddled by nature itself, as corny as it sounded. What you didn’t expect was to be startled awake when the moonlight’s still as bright as ever. A light fuck escaped your lips. Irritated was what you are. You’re as aware as can be, ears tuned in to whatever it is that posed a threat to your goodnight sleep. But nothing came up. Just the occasional hoot of an owl, distant calls from coyotes, and what seemed to be woodland creatures rustling around the thick bushes.

Maybe it’s just your terrible paranoia cruising. Maybe you’re starting to hallucinate from fatigue, or maybe it’s just some stupid squirrel in the branches. You shuffled in your cocoon of a sleeping bag before turning ever so slightly to face Joel’s side. To face where Joel Miller, your irritating companion, is supposed to rest. Though for the first time in history, his absence crushed your heart.

You were terrified. Eyes wide and round as you stared in disbelief.

He was gone.

You scrambled to your feet. Taking unlevelled steps towards his side of the camp, you could feel your chest tighten at the confirmation of his disappearance. He wasn’t there no matter how many times you flipped his sleeping bag front to back.

Has he deserted you? Did he finally get tired of you? Were you being way too bratty today? You didn’t think you’d be this distressed at the absence of someone you hated with a passion, but here you were, waterline overrun by stray tears threatening to spill out at any given time. So weak and helpless, it’s pathetic.

Was that a moan?

You froze, as still as you could be, trying to listen intently if the sound decided to repeat itself. It did. This time you could make out what it sounded like: guttural, low, and indistinct. The way your face contorted was comical to say the least. At this point, your mind started to race with all the creative questions. Was it an animal? A person in distress? Oh, or is it something more sinister and dangerous? You didn’t have your gun on you so it’d be obvious suicide if you went on to pursue, wouldn’t it?

This is how people died in horror movies

You knew that and a part of your youthful curiosity (the chunk Tess hated so much) made you take another step forward towards the general direction. The puddle you stepped on rippled and splashed. Your wary eyes dart around, scanning the surrounding area for any signs of movement.

There was nothing of course. Just the waving branches that’s starting to make you feel a little disoriented and claustrophobic. All you could hear was your own ragged breathing above the low groan that once again was being emitted from behind the tree line. You swore it sounded more human-like the more you tuned in.

Dry branches crackled and broke underneath the heavy soles of your boots, making you cringe inwardly at the thought that someone must’ve noticed your moves by now. This is far beyond stupid you decide. You should've prepared an eulogy by now. Maybe even a few stems of the lovely aster you enjoyed so much. If this was a serial killer lurking underneath your shadows, your funeral was right around the corner. But it wasn’t. What made the noise wasn’t a stray squirrel, nor was it a stray clicker. It was Joel fucking Miller.

"Joel?"

His name slipped out of your tongue like melted butter; unstoppable and out of instinct. He's looked at you multiple times during your stays in Tess' flat. Sometimes with gentle aloofness and other times with what you chalked up to be disgust or even disdain, and you'd always cater to his glares with your incredulous grin. This time it was.. different.

His pupils were large— larger than what you think was humanly possible with it almost swallowing the entirety of his irises. A humorous part of your brain wondered if he was turning into some sort of werewolf because of the full moon, if he'd pounce on you with his furry claws.

Your running thoughts made you steer away from what's actually presented in front of you. The more that you look at it, he looked somewhat.. pained. He's never looked pained before, not when a bullet lodged in precisely behind his arteries or even when an upset customer drove a rusty knife down his side. Joel's been annoyingly tough. But now he's visibly drenched in sweat, face adorned with a shade of crimson, while he shivered and groaned against the base of a tree. This was odd. You slowly crouched over to his side, but your attempts were futile when he's waving his arms in your direction as if shooing a dog away.

You frowned. He rolled to his side, trying to avoid your incoming slaught of confrontation.

"Were you shot?"

"No."

"Were you clawed by a bear?"

"No."

"Are we going to play 20 questions or are you going to let me help you?"

He turned slightly, just enough so that he could finally see the irritation weaved through your expression. Joel then grumbled something about how you shouldn't be out here and that it's better to get back in your sleeping bag. You ignored him, as always, inching even closer to see what he's up to.

Stubbornness runs deep in your blood and you weren't going to let him die out here in the woods when you could barely read a map by itself. You didn't even know how to determine where North is. To simply put it, you'd die without him standing up straight, whether in this unruly jungle or under the gun of Tess' customer.

"Your mushrooms are poisonous," he accused sternly, boring his deep brown eyes into yours.

"No. It's not. I'm fine and well, so it must be a you problem mister," you probed your fingers into his tough chest, not accepting any sort of insult to your own specialty. "Fuck, are you having some sort of heart attack?"

"I'm not. I'm just.. oh god," he stifled his groans with his palm. Now that you're finally seeing him in a better light, it looked like he was.. palming himself through the thick fabric of his tight jeans. Was he rocking into his own palm? Or was it just your perverted imaginations playing tricks on your silly little mind?

Your stomach lurched at the possibility, then a curl of disgust had you pressing your lips together into a thin line. This is your time to back away. He gave you that chance a while ago and you should've let your curiosity lay low. He was your goddamn mentor and worse, Tess' partner, it'd be wrong to see him in this state. But isn't it your responsibility for inflicting this kind of torment? It's your idea to harvest the mushrooms. You're dealing with some twisted version of Schrödinger's cat where no good options are presented in front of you. It's a moral dilemma.

"Are you?" you squeaked. "Are you masturbating?"

"No. Just get back to.. oh."

"Do ya need help?"

He looked at you like you're his inferno. The one that's going to drag him straight to hell from your sweet sweet words. God, he shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be looking down your loose tank top like some old geezer, you're probably twenty years his junior and he's here rubbing his inconvenience away at your expense. You didn't even know what you're offering. Did you even know what he's like?

"Please, just. You're going to regret it, sweetheart."

"How would you know?"

"I'm like old enough.. fuck.. to be your dad or something. You should just go. Tess is gonna kill me if she knew."

"Joel, this is my fault," you persisted, eyes bright with a sense of genuine worry.

Joel's jaw clenched hard at your enticing offer, a bead of sweat dribbled down the side of his temple nervously. He looked like he was struggling to pull out a coherent reason as to why this shouldn't happen. Why he shouldn't be the one to defile your innocence and corrupt you with his bloody hands. Nothing came out though, just a brief desperate grunt.

You swallowed thickly, before taking his lack of an answer as a sign of encouragement. Your hands moved painfully slow. As if waiting to see whether he'd push your hands away or try to stop you in any way, but he never did. Not even when you touched the damp denim clinging onto his bare skin, gently as if he's made of porcelain.

You've never.. done this which frankly explained the awkward touches you're prone to do, or the look in your eyes that further emphasized the fact that you had no idea what you're doing. Aside from the scarce pornographic magazine stashed in your orphanage's library, there wasn't any sort of guidance as to how you'd navigate your sexual life. But you’re almost sure that this was a good start from the way his scrunched up eyebrows start to untangle at your touch.

With that in mind, you traced over the shape of his confined cock, before settling on the damp tip leaking over his jeans. It felt warm and somewhat foreign. You circled over the spot several times, encouraged by his low groans. Did he feel good?

"Fuck. Okay. You wanna help me out and be a good girl?" he rasped, finally grasping your hand with his calloused fingers to get you even closer to where he wanted you. He guided you eagerly. All voices of reason vanished in his head.

You weren’t able to say anything. It felt like you're drowning in his existence; the oak-like smell of his flannel, the rough syllables he uttered, and god that terribly persuasive grin he had on. He's secretly smug about this and you knew it.

"Come here," he beckoned you to come closer and so you did, without a single complaint like what your chatty mouth is used to. You're so quiet and pliant– something he's been wishing for from the start of your journey. Joel feverishly pulled you back onto his lap, pressing his hardened front onto the thick fabric of your cargo pants.

You yelped. He let out a soft mumble of your name. His hips stuttered at the new sensation. He's more than ready to feel you from the inside, get wrapped up in your velvety walls, but the thought of Tess had him pulling on his reins. "Listen. I'm not– oh.. I'm not going to ruin you, okay? Just gonna.. Just gonna use your thighs."

Thighs? What’s that supposed to mean? Your clueless expression had him shudder in anticipation. You’re so cute and perfect to corrupt. It’s definitely not the first time he thought of you in that manner. He secretly loved each and every one of your bickering games, it riled him up beneath all the cold shoulder facade.

Without further warning, Joel manhandled you with his strong arms. You let out a strained gasp as he towered over you, the ground hard against your back. Heat and adrenaline ran through your veins at the sight of his concentrated eyes. He looked determined to go through with this, no matter the consequences.

He took in all of you, not with his touches, just with the soft brown pupils he’s blessed with. You knew that he wasn’t going to be all sweet and lovely, although you silently wished he’d be a little gentler when he pulled your cargos off. You’d wish for him to tell you how pretty you are and how much you meant to him, because as fucked up as it was, you’ve always wanted him to like you. The infatuation was cliché and stupid, but you could never have enough.

Joel was quick to fold you in half, holding your legs up by the underside of your thighs as he observed. A warm palm hovering over your throbbing cunt extinguished any last traces of your desire to rebel; the heat between your thighs only became worse at his nimble fingers dragging along your panties. Out of a need for more, you rubbed your thighs together and tried your best to buck into his touch with a shaky breath.

“I’m not a good guy,” Joel trailed off while he busied himself unbuckling his belt, the sound of the leather sliding out his jean loops ignited a fire within you. “Fuckin’ killed so many people. Stole their things and ran.”

“Do you.. oh.. do you still want to go through with this, sweetheart?”

The nickname was quick to send goosebumps down your back. He’s driving you insane and he had the audacity to ask these questions. He should’ve just seen how drenched you are beneath the scant excuse of panties. You nodded breathlessly and god was it a sight to watch his moral beliefs crumble apart at your confirmation.

“Keep your thighs together, girl,” he ordered briefly, nails digging into your plush thighs as he finally freed his cock. It’s feverishly hot against your skin and drooling with a copious amount of precum, you could even feel the head teasingly poke onto your clothed slit. You shuddered and clenched around nothing at the sensation. “Please.”

“God. Such a good girl are you?” he managed to find the time to tease you as he slid between your thighs, looking down you could see the flushed bulbous head twitching with need. Joel let out a groan he's been holding on to for a long time, even just having your plush thighs squeezing him was enough to send jolts of pleasure through every part of his aching body.

He started to thrust his hips at a slow pace; drawing them back slowly and pushing them forward with enough force to knock you back onto the tree trunk each time. Your heartbeat grew wild in your ribcage, hard and fast as he relished in the feeling of you. You weren’t sure of what the feeling was, but you could feel your clit pulse at the friction his cock made everytime it slipped through.

You admired the color of his tip which reminded you of a wild salmon, slightly pink with tinges of nudes, spilling so much of that thick milky substance which quickly coats the insides of your thighs. What a sight it was to be beneath Joel Miller. Your past self would’ve probably envied you for getting so lucky, whimpering and gasping for air as he held you with an iron grip. It felt so good, you’re at a loss for words. All those nights spent pining over him and spreading your pretty pussy to the mere thought of him is finally paid for.

“Feel good, girl?

He granted you a form of reprieve when his fingers finally pulled your panties aside to quickly find your clit and tease it in tight circles. His calloused fingers provided such good ridges to grind yourself onto. The sound that’s spilling out of your lips was embarrassing, almost pitiful, but it seemed that with each and every whimper Joel looked even more pleased. The expression on his face was sinful by itself. You could only imagine how foul this scenery was from a third person point of view.

“So good to me, shit, where did that pretty mouth of yours disappear?”

He bucked even faster, and so did you, eager to chase after the euphoric friction one another provided. The coil finally broke at his last press against your needy clit. You whimpered, an airy sound as your cunt clenched frantically around nothing, globs of white leaking right through your panties and onto the dried up leaves underneath.

Joel let out a smooth chuckle at the sight, dutifully rubbing circles onto your clit as he reached his high. Ribbons of white spurt out unconditionally. There was so much you wondered when his last release was. Your tank top was drenched and so were your thighs. The sheer obscenity had you buckling onto him. You felt hot, over-sensitive, and wrong.

Realization sunk into you as he pulled away and settled to your side.

“No speaking of this,” you murmured, still in a trance of blissful pleasure.

“Yes, ma’am.”

His chuckle resonated, only to mingle with your own.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou #the last of us imagine #joel miller smut

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dilf-din · 1 year

Text

Silver Spring (Din Djarin x reader)

WC: 1200

Summary: I was listening to Fleetwood Mac today and had a lot of feelings. Some angst but mostly fluff

A strong wind whipped through the grassy hillside you found yourself perched atop of. This planet’s sun quickly sinking into the sea below you casting fiery rays of pink and orange on the water and sky alike. The sound of the tide coming in was drowned out by the salty wind rushing around the three of you. Grogu leaned against the basket you had brought from the crest carrying your dinner for tonight. His little chest rising and falling, his little hands rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. You had been begging Din to park somewhere green for a few days so you and the child could stretch your legs. The last few weeks filled with countless hours waiting for his return. The two of you reading and rereading his little board books, tossing a ball against the wall, singing songs and dancing around the hull. You were so clearly full to the brim with cabin fever when he came back. He stood on the open ramp, arms crossed watching you twirl with Grogu wrapped tightly in your arms. You were singing him a nursery rhyme from your home planet while the little green child broke out in giggles. He was the first one to see his father, wiggling out of your grasp and tottering to him with his arms up. Din knelt to meet him, greeting him with a, “Hey little guy.” You bent over catching your breath and smoothing out your tunic from your little romp.

“Looks like you two were having fun,” Din remarked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“If you take us somewhere pretty, we can all hold hands and twirl like kids in a school yard,” you panted, “I don’t think there’s room for all three of us here though.”

He chuckled at your response, “We’ll see.”

“Please Din,” you pleaded, “If you leave me here again to come up with another dance routine I’m going to lose my blasted mind.”

Of course he obliged, saying that you were ahead on quarries and credits and it would be nice for the child to have a break. The underlying tone of his voice implied that it was just as much for you and you knew it.

You were always thankful for his good moods, when he allowed room for frivolity instead of his usual strictly business mindset. You stretched your legs out in front of you. The sea grass tickling you through your thin pants.

“I’m going to take him to bed if you want to try to get a fire going,” Din said standing and plucking Grogu’s sleep heavy body up and cradling him gently in his strong arms. “Figured we could stay out here a little while longer if you wanted.”

You smiled at the thought of it. He had never said it in as many words, but you knew he had grown to miss your company, especially when he was gone for long stretches of time.

“Will we be able to keep a fire going with all this wind?” you called to him.

“It shouldn’t be an issue,” he said over his shoulder, continuing towards the Crest. It was parked partially under the cover of some trees about a hundred meters from where you had all gathered to eat. You trailed behind him looking for some drier wood pieces littered amidst the yellowed, dancing blades.

When you were satisfied with the pile you had made with a little extra to hopefully last a few hours, you set to making a small pit. Using the flint you kept tucked into your belt, you had a nice fire going in no time. You were just sitting back to admire your work when you heard Din’s footfall approaching from behind. You drew your arms around yourself as you caught a chill from the wind, his gloved hand extended offering down your shawl for you.

“It gets cold here pretty quickly,” he said smoothly, kneeling down to sit as well. There was a rock jutting out of the ground that you had gotten somewhat comfy against, large enough for both of you to sit and enjoy the fire and hide from some of the biting wind.

“Thank you,” you replied wrapping yourself in the warm layers.

You sat in a comfortable silence for several minutes, watching twin moons rise higher in the onyx sky casting glittering reflections on the wild sea surrounding you. You had taken to plucking some of the longer grass and braiding it to keep your hands busy.

“Din,” you started. His helmet turned slightly towards you, “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said calmly.

“Have you ever been in love?”

He had been sitting still this whole time but you could feel his presence tense slightly. He took a long time before replying, “Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered,” you said, nothing detectable in your voice but innocent curiosity.

“Have you?” he asked after a beat.

You chuckled softly, “Yeah, once. Or at least I thought. I was young, we both were. We never would have lasted what with my plans to leave Tattooine. He was content to stay there, and I just always needed,” you paused, “more.”

Din hummed in contemplation. The silence wrapped around you both again. A low howl of the wind, the crackle of the fire, his steady breaths through the modulator. By now you had several braided strands and were working them into one big braided piece. You couldn’t tell, but he was watching you intently through his visor, the deft sureness of your fingers. He thought of how nicely they would fit in his own.

“I have,” he broke the silence again, “Been in love before.”

You hoped your face didn’t give away how shocked you were to hear that. Not that you couldn’t see someone falling in love with Din, you just always imagined he had been the same. Stoic, married to his work.

“We were also young. I met her on Nevarro when I first got in good with the guild. A local crime mob didn’t like the way I had busted a few of their guys, I went in to find a quarry one day and was met with her corpse instead,” he finished, his boot digging into the ground and loosening some of the soft earth. The nervousness of him sharing something so heavy was obvious in his body language.

“Oh Din, I’m sorry, I-“

“You didn’t know, it’s okay.”

You allowed the silence to settle in again.

“Was she pretty?”

He waited awhile before giving a simple, “Yes, she was.”

A mix of emotions were battling out in your chest right now. Guilt for bringing it up, sadness for the grief he must carry, jealousy at his heart longing for someone else. You tried to stamp out those feelings any time they came up, but it happened so frequently now, it was getting harder to ignore.

“Like I said, we were young,” his voice startling you. “It was, we didn’t know what we were doing really. It was different.”

You paused. “Different than what?” you drew your gaze to his helmet glowing orange in the light of the fire.

The wind roared wildly around you and you almost thought that you imagined the next word that fell from his lips.

“This.”

#the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian drabble #the mandalorian fluff #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin drabble #din djarin fluff

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manwrre · 6 months

Text

give me ANY cult-y or hyper-religious harringrove fic and watch me lose my mind fr. esp if one of them isn’t human and is doing the corrupting or persuading the other into committing blasphemy?? like, imagine…

steve has lived in the village his entire life. it’s what’s been expected of him— what’s been expected of them all. in that same way that it was expected of his parents and his parents’ parents and their parents’ parents and the grapevine of those who came alongside and, before them.

they are never to leave.

never to ask questions.

never to disobey the village head. just pray and pray and pray.

to be good to one’s neighbor and to pray and pray and pray.

to exhibit both a sound mind and a clean heart and remember, you must praypraypraypraypray.

to work hard and abstain and refuse the temptation of anything and everything beyond the village boundaries.

because beyond the sweeping trees and green canopies, there was nothing good.

there was hell and starvation. there was sin and carnality and they were blessed to have been absolved for generations. they were blessed to be able to live on the land of god; to be the chosen few.

except, steve hasn’t felt blessed for quite a while now. in fact, he hasn’t felt anything but afraid.

afraid because the village is all that he has ever known. he’s bathed in every surrounding creek and has explored every clearing. he’s harvested in the spring and lends a hand, cooking all communal meals during the winter. he attends church and kisses his parents goodnight and smiles at the people he’s grown up with. he teaches the small group of kids who live within their community and he’s afraid

because something has been hunting them.

and steve may just be a measly teacher at the age of nineteen but he notices when the first boy goes missing.

a quiet child, by the name of daniel. twelve years old and always so friendly.

and at first, everyone assumes that he’s drowned or has been attacked by a wild animal. that is, until he’s found at the edge of the woods; perfectly whole but so very cold. gone to meet their maker.

so steve prays for their protection and safety—the entire village does and they believe it to be done

but a week later, henry is gone.

then emory,

little silas,

and now, will.

all into the woods, they’ve disappeared without a trace. only to be found days later, seemingly unharmed if not for the stillness of their chests.

and he has heard the stories, of course. he’s listened to the nursery rhymes and old wive’s tales about what evil has spilled into the trees surrounding their homes but now, he believes.

there’s something in the woods and it is taking people. there’s something in the woods and it will kill them all.

so when he decides that enough is enough and goes out looking for will, imagine his surprise when he stumbles upon someone else.

a boy.

pale-haired and blue eyed; his gaze too bright and his stance, much too relaxed for someone in the woods at night. steve’s certain he has never seen him before—he’s sure he would remember someone so golden and so pretty. and yet, the boy looks at him like they’re familiar. like, he knows him.

“i was beginning to think you’d never come.” the blond grins.

and steve swallows, suddenly; staring as the stranger’s lips stretch around a mouthful of too sharp, too raptorial teeth and thinks,

oh.

there’s something in the woods and he’s met it.

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blorbologist · 7 days

Text

Nursery Rhymes as Told by Briarpatches | Greypool

“I’m Greykit now, Mom,” said Greykit, when they were nestled back home. Fallowtail stilled. “Greykit, is it?” she asked, her voice frail. “I - I hadn’t known so much time had passed. You’ve both grown so big, but names -” “Can we get new names?” Palekit piped up, muffled by Mom’s fur before she twisted to face them. “I don’t wanna be Palekit anymore.” “Why not?” Mom gently prodded. Her lips curled into a tiny snarl - a perfect likeness of Hailstar’s, earlier. “It’s stupid and windy and I’m not a Windclan cat.”

[Set in @fatal-rewrites-warriors's rewrite of Warriors, found here]

"Greykit and Palekit," Reedfeather declared. "Welcome home, lovelies."

His daughter could not see his expression from between his paws, but she could see those of the strange cats around him. They were wrong - not a single familiar face in the crowd. They all smelled wrong, too, like the wind had stolen their scents, not like the musty comfort of Mom. All strangers.

One face frowned - the huge tom padded forward and sniffed the sisters with a scarred nose. The kittens shied away.

"I’d keep those ideas to myself, boy. The kits are too young to be named.” The tom rose up to squint at their father. “Especially adapting to so many changes, the stress could do them in.”

The kitten - was she Pale or Grey? - felt her father stiffen behind her. “Riverclan could not keep them from me, Hawkheart - neither will Starclan,” he said.

“Besides,” he added quickly, “they’re stars-given, for Heatherstar’s lost litter. Surely they wouldn’t take such blessings from such deserving cats?”

Hawkheart curled his lip. “Deserving... certainly.”

He padded away, vanishing into what looked to the kitten like the round, gaping mouth of a dead fish. She recoiled further into her father’s belly fur for something, anything, familiar.

But he wasn’t. She did not know the texture of his fur, or his not-smell, or his nasally voice, or how he licked her ears. She hated having her ears touched - Mom knew that.

“I want Mom,” she whimpered. “I don’t like it here, I want Mom - please, can we go home?”

[Keep reading on AO3!]

#SIKE I still do murdercats stuff sometimes! rarely! once every uh few years!#fanfiction of a fanfiction is also Very Fun ok #warrior cats #warrior cats fanfic #only timeline issue I can spot is that this AU's Harefur and Gingerfur prolly wouldn't have names and/or would be newborns. but o whale #note that Fatal reworked the family trees + timeline in this AU. also Mosskit lived. actually just read his rewrite I promise it's so good

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crazy-as-a-jaybird · 8 months

Text

you wanted it, didn't you i can't believe you did

my ass is going to be famous for this rubbish, yay

colors as lees

red ❤️

- blush that spreads over their whole face along with ears and neck

- how DARE you presume they can be ticklish

- violent roars of laughter

- their neck is just the worst

- you'll have to hold their hands down or you'll get scratched

orange 🧡

- JUMPY

- uh buddy pal love mine howbout we just—

- it's so much better if you have to chase them

- may yell in your ear

- rolls around a lot

yellow 💛

- dimples

- still compliments during tickling

- just loves their ler wholeheartedly

- "ohOHOH oh gosh 🥰"

- arches their back and encourages the ler to raspberry their tummy

green 💚

- demands to play hide&seek but gives themselves away with endless giggling would easily win otherwise

- shrieks and howls of joy

- wriggles from teases alone

- walks barefoot

- is the type to get a lee mood from watching bumblebees buzzing around

cyan 🩵

- has hoodies and beanies to hide their face with

- explains sheepishly what exactly would they like you to do with them

- paintbrushes get them well

- squeaky

- enjoys exposing their spots even when they're a little embarrassed

blue 💙

- likes rubs

- but hates babytalk or not

- seriously gets tickled even through their clothes

- "itchy 😡" *proceeds to scratch off*

- purses their lips to keep the sounds in i wonder how long will it take them to give up, hmm

purple 💜

- "careful careful careful 😭😭😭"

- makeup brushes ✨

- frequent pick-me-ups

- is only comfortable with it when you and them are alone

- needs some time to start laughing freely

pink 🩷

- likes the soft playful side

- doesn't mind spicing the things up tho, it depends

- emotional support stuffies

- the cutest giggles ever

- bites their lips

brown 🤎

- eeep!

- cherishes small everyday tickles while cooking or doing chores

- hasn't grown out of nursery rhymes

- will throw their head back and forth

- the ultimate recipe is wiggling a single finger over their skin and digging in

white 🤍

- squeezes their own cheeks

- mmmphff 👉🏻👈🏻

- is too clueless to hide their reactions

- and is too shy to even beg, just accepts their doom

- flappy hands

gray 🩶

- sleepyhead

- hehe tingles so funny

- aims all their concentration at the sensations

- therefore gets overstimulated quickly

- loves gigantic blankets

black 🖤

- "dont dont DONT 😨"

- will legit cry, angrily and comically, if you wreck them

- craves revenge in any case

- but they're such a limp puddle by the end of it all that they can't get up

- twitchy lips and toothy grins

#synesthesia is funny #tickle stuff #tickling #tickle community #sfw tickle community

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grand-theft-carbohydrates · 3 months

Text

-beans of various types-

The fourth son of the Cao household was leading a one-man war in the courtyard of the main house. His name was Cao Zhi, and he was a little boy of five years. Old enough to wear proper trousers, though his hair was still shaved in the middle and braided into two ox-horns on the sides. His sword was a stick, and his horse was a broom. Cao Zhi ran this way and that, leading soldiers that only his eyes could see.

“Crossbows back, ji forward! Hold fast and prepare to engage!” He had plenty of brothers but preferred to play alone. It wasn’t as much fun, but at least there was no one to scold him for being annoying or twist his arm when he talked back.

Victory was at hand, such was his concentration, Cao Zhi did not hear the horses arriving at the main gate or the servants rushing out to greet “Lord Cao!” A moment later, a man dressed in a short, plain riding coat stepped quietly into the courtyard and stopped under the shade of a tree to watch him.

“One more push, men! Calvary to the left and right! We’ll break their arrays and put them to route!” Most people would have been surprised to hear such a young child recite word-perfect battlefield commands at an age when most were singing nursery rhymes. The man in the shade watched him attentively without speaking a word. There was a complicated expression on his face.

Cao Zhi turned around and finally noticed that he had attracted an audience. The instant his eyes alighted on the man, his face split into a gap-toothed grin.

“Eldest Brother! Eldest Brother!” he cried and ran forward with his arms outstretched. Then, he remembered that his half-brother was now a man grown and the Heir Apparent to boot, so giving him a big hug was Not Proper anymore. He quickly stopped and bowed. “Greetings, Elder Brother. Zhi hopes you have travelled well.”

“I did, thank you,” replied his eldest brother, Cao Ang. He returned the bow, and his movements seemed a hundred times more refined in the boy's eyes. “I trust you’ve been in good health, Fourth Brother?”

“Yes. I am well.” Cao Zhi said, suddenly feeling very shy. It had been nearly a year since they had last spoken. Cao Ang left home as a brother and returned as a lord, capped and gowned, with a sword at his side and a dusty whip hanging from his belt. Between working in the civil service and accompanying Father on campaigns, there was a noticeable change in his manners and speech. The fifteen years between them suddenly felt as impassable as a mountain. Cao Ang had become impossibly tall, grand and grown-up. Almost more imposing than Father.

Perhaps it would be better if Cao Zhi played in the inner courtyard, out of his brother’s way. “May I take my leave, Eldest Brother?”

“Hold it,” Cao Ang commanded. His face was stern, but there was no mistaking the humorous twinkle in his eyes. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? How dare you approach your liege with your weapon bared!”

Cao Zhi realised that he was still holding onto his stick. He giggled and made a show of putting it into his belt, in place of a scabbard. “Please forgive your vassal’s impudence.”

“I fail to see what’s so funny, young man.” Cao Ang said, dead serious, which only made his little brother laugh harder. “I could have been run through!”

It happened just like that. As swiftly as a burst of water unblocking a choked-up stream. Any lingering awkwardness was gone, and the two of them began chatting and laughing like no time had passed.

(To be continued)

#ah yes. the cao beans.#my soy boys #cao ang #cao zhi #cao pi #san guo #i have a bunch of vignettes and not much plot so i'll just do my best to string it togather #my writing

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magicaldokipuff · 4 months

Text

🧃"Kidcore"🚒

(Rap song made using Chat GPT)

(⚠️ TW ⚠️ Mild Language)

(Verse 1)

Yo, welcome to the land of fun and games,

Where imagination thrives, and everything's the same.

Got my toys all lined up, colors poppin' so loud,

In this world of Kidcore, we stand proud.

🌼🐝🌼🐝🌼

Doll shit, it's so strange, why am I so deranged?

But I rock that weirdness, no need to rearrange.

Plastic figures, crayons, and my funky socks,

In this playground of dreams, we break all the locks.

🎈🌳🎈🌳🎈🌳

(Chorus)

Kidcore vibes, in a world so wild,

Where the grown-ups sigh and the kiddos smile.

Unleash the magic, let your spirit fly,

In this realm of wonder, where dreams amplify.

🥤🧃🥤🧃🥤🧃

(Verse 2)

Aw, bro, that's what's up! Hop in my Little Tikes Firetruck! 🚒

Zoomin' down the driveway, we don't give a... truck!

Singing nursery rhymes, turning up the beat,

We're the kings and queens of our own concrete street.

🌧️🦋🌧️🦋🌧️🦋

Jumping puddles, chasing butterflies,

In our Kidcore world, where fantasy never dies.

Plastic swords and capes, we're heroes in disguise,

Conquering dragons, reaching for the skies.

☀️☁️☀️☁️☀️☁️☀️

(Chorus)

Kidcore vibes, in a world so wild,

Where the grown-ups sigh and the kiddos smile.

Unleash the magic, let your spirit fly,

In this realm of wonder, where dreams amplify.

🌈🖍️🌈🖍️🌈🖍️

(Bridge)

From LEGO towers to Play-Doh fun,

We'll never grow old, we're forever young.

Building forts and castles, under the sun's glow,

In this Kidcore kingdom, watch our imaginations grow.

🧸🧮🧸🧮🧸🧮🧸

(Verse 3)

Playin' make-believe, it's our daily routine,

From morning 'til night, this world's a serene scene.

Teddy bears for comfort, skipping ropes for fun,

Our laughter echoes 'til the day is done.

Dancing like nobody's watching, in a room filled with toys,

Creating memories, our hearts rejoice.

Kidcore anthem, let's make it loud,

In our playful universe, we stand proud!

🍯🐻🍯🐻🍯🐻

(Chorus)

Kidcore vibes, in a world so wild,

Where the grown-ups sigh and the kiddos smile.

Unleash the magic, let your spirit fly,

In this realm of wonder, where dreams amplify.

Kidcore, that's the scene,

🦈🤖🦈🤖🦈🤖🦈

Living life vibrant, forever keen.

In this world we've built, dreams never lack,

Kidcore's the beat, and we've got its back!

🌼🐝🌼🐝🌼

Wasn't that really cute? AI is so incredible! ⚡🤖⚡

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peaches2217 · 7 months

Note

During the pregnancy I imagine that Peach of course sings to her baby to calm herself and the baby down. Just imagine her sitting in the garden while rubbing her own belly and singing nursery rhymes. And I am asking you, do you have any headcanons about this as well?

Oh-ho, don’t even get me started on the role singing plays in the whole ordeal. Too late! Ya got me started~

Mario’s a really good singer, but for one reason or another he just doesn’t feel comfortable singing around anybody except Luigi or Peach; even then, he doesn’t sing around them much at all. But Peach adores his voice and will occasionally attempt to cajole him into singing for her. He plays along and makes a big show of resisting before ultimately giving her that song she wants, dancing around with her and being generally overdramatic, and it’s a great deal of fun!

But on very rare occasions, he’ll sing for her without provocation. It’s always during moments of quiet intimacy, as though his heart’s just too full and it’ll burst unless he pours it out in song, or whenever she’s under strain and there’s no immediate way he can help her other than to comfort her. And those songs are soft, low, mellow, and nine times out of ten in Italian. When he sings for her like that, all feels right with the world.

Her first real bout of morning sickness sees her violently ill at four in the morning, and Mario leaves her just long enough to send a summon for the head nurse. Peach is curled up on the tiles of the darkened bathroom, and Mario returns with a blanket, sets her head in his lap, and sings softly to her as he strokes her hair. While Mario internally panics over her condition, Peach is wrapped in the warmth of his voice; she feels light and drowsy, like he’s cocooning her in pure comfort, and for a while all of her nausea falls to the wayside.

He does it again that night, laying in bed together after finding out that he’s going to be a father. She can’t understand the words, but the melody is simple and repetitive, and she quickly realizes he’s singing a lullaby. It’s enough to make her cry.

In the coming weeks, she asks him to teach her the same lullabies his mother sang to him and Luigi as children. So he does! He’ll introduce a new one every night until he runs out of lullabies he actually remembers (it HAS been a while since he was a kid). The English lullabies she of course picks up quickly; she’s particularly fond of the one with the diamond ring and looking glass, because, as Mario affectionately points out, showering a baby with expensive gifts it can’t even use is 100% something she would do. The Italian lullabies take more time, so he’ll start by translating them line-by-line (during which he realizes for the first time just how morbid some of them are…) and then singing it slowly so Peach can join in and mimic his intonation.

And since lullabies can get pretty repetitive, he’ll take regular breaks to sing different songs to her so she doesn’t go crazy. The truth is, she could never grow tired of his voice, no matter how many times he repeats the same handful of stanzas… but she certainly won’t object, because he’s sang for her more in the past month than he has in all the time she’s known him.

It feels a bit silly when she thinks about it, two grown adults singing children’s songs back and forth to each other all night. But those songs become part of their daily repertoire, and every time Mario starts sleepily murmuring one with his head on her chest and a hand on her stomach, or every time she approaches him in the middle of the day just to ask if she’s pronouncing a line correctly; every time she hears him humming about Fra’ Simon in the shower and then groaning about it being stuck in his head, and every time he tries to surprise her in the garden after their duties are complete for the day, only to find her singing the same song while rubbing soothing patterns over her belly; they both fall a little bit harder for one another.

#tw pregnancy #I grew up in a singing family so this kinda shit is close to my heart #as for me #I couldn’t carry a tune if it had a handle #I gained my family’s passion for music but none of their talent 😅#I can play the clarinet! and I’m into vocal synthesis of that counts! but I myself am SHIT at singing #I digress!#peaches has opinions #mareach

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searchingforserendipity25 · 5 months

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Hold His Own | on ao3.

Elros and his family, for @nolofinweanweek.

Elros left his children the tools and the means to commit all the mistakes of his forefathers, and new ones besides; and he was not sorry for it in the slightest. (All of them come to him in the dark once at least, crying and seasick, wanting to be held and sang to quietness. There was a wave, little Vardamir said it first; and his children after him, too, weeping and afraid as he had vowed they never would be. A wave, and it was angry, and it came for everything).

In his old age, Tar-Minyatur looked little older than his grandson's children. Silver was in his hair, and the silver of his eyes a little dulled; but his mind was sharp still, and eager. He walked the quays every day, and bent his back on harvesting seasons.

Only his son's growing weakness kept him from venturing out on the fishing vessels that scoured Ulmo's realm for fat tunas and rich whales - and all his children and their children were raised more on tales of the first eventful seal-hunting expeditions up and down the shores of Númenor than on tales of Beleriand.

Sirion, Doriath, Gondolin and Hithlum - those came later, when they learned their letters and their histories. His brother, in love with lore and the keeping of lore, would argue against it, and no doubt rear his children in the wisdom of Melian's line and the solemnity of eternal memory.

Elros was mortal. He raised his people to love themselves first of all, their cities and language and ways. They sang new songs every season, composed new and useless rhythms with dizzying speed - and the king of Elenna, who had grown among enemies, and made war on Melkor, delighted above all things in this speedy work, the restless pettiness of every day's effort.

The work of one's hands was rarely more beautiful than when it was raised up to protect against wind, hail and spray - than when towers were raised on strong foundations, and around them cities raised on beautiful lines.

He wrote his deeds and thoughts in treatises and decrees, the lore made to be read by lore masters in centuries to come. It was important to keep the past alive, and prepare for the future, study portents and ignore not foresight - Yet not, Elros wrote in the letters he tossed at the waves, Mithlond-bound, at the expense of this year's seaweed nurseries.

Vardamir was hungry enough to learn, and Tindómiel cared mostly for the business of the ships and the studies of the stars - Atanalcar went pearl-diving most of the summer, every summer of his life, and Manwendil liked riding best of all, and was a friend to the sea-birds that brought him small tokens of sea-glass and feathers.

Elros left his children the tools and the means to commit all the mistakes of his forefathers, and new ones besides; and he was not sorry for it in the slightest.

(All of them come to him in the dark once at least, crying and seasick, wanting to be held and sang to quietness. There was a wave, little Vardamir said it first; and his children after him, too, weeping and afraid as he had vowed they never would be. A wave, and it was angry, and it came for everything).

He soothes them all. Lullabies, half-forgotten and half-improvised, sweet with Menegroth's lilting rhymes; a few tries at the harp, and their little heads rested trustingly on his shoulder, asleep without fear again.

Dreams were only dreams, in the morning. None of them saw bloodshed before their coming of age; none of them would shed blood unjustly, for greed.

Tar-Minyatur knew this, because they were his children. He knew also that their children were like to have children themselves, and for all the friendship of the sea, an island was only so large and plentiful as the number of its people allowed them to be.

The gulls brought gifts to him, too. Perhaps they would do so to his descendants, too, five or ten births down the line, if not twenty. Did birds lose the keenness of their memory, as old men did?

The king's windows were always open, to the fresh star-lit light of the evening, when the weather allowed. In his last years, his bones turned into tyrants even on warm nights, but Tar-Minyatur found time to evade his minders, to bring out his bowl of seaweed and dumplings to the parapets of his towers and speak to Gil-Estel all the same.

All the old people of the island did, when they were soon to die. That last bearing of witness, some of the Edain held, was what stars were for, and this one most of all.

They may choose to tear them down in time, and build them anew, wrote Tar-Minyatur, silver-haired and trembling with the cold of an open window, young still in a way his brother would never be again.

He had taken to reading old philosophical texts with his son's grandchildren, now that they were old enough to be interested in these things, to know death and be a little angry at it, and petulant about the old king's way of teasing them. They went off to complain to Vardamir, who explained everything a little better, a little more sensibly.

No one had called him Elros in many years. All the same, the king wrote: Let them be as they would! That will be their choice! But they shall choose, and choose to look onwards, not back into the unalterable past. The best gift I can give them is to give them some stone and soil to stand upon, and the will to go onwards as they would, with the years they have to live.

Tar-Minyatur raised his children to know this. Great and terrible things came of that, and he foresaw many, if not most; but then, one must think of this day's effort most of all. The future would come, as certain as the tides and the summer storms. It was enough to leave behind strong foundations, and something of estel to pass onwards. All wise old men in Elenna knew this, and held it to be true.

#elros #elrond #vardamir #tindomiel #silm fic #nolofinweanweek #nolofinwëans #the fall of numenor #my fics #tolkien fanfiction

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bumblebeehug · 1 year

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God, she loves him

NaLu fanfic

Summary: Lucy loves Natsu so much.

Ao3 link (that I think will work, not as an actual link but to copy and paste into your search engine) : https://archiveofourown.org/works/44694328

God how she loved him.

They were just hanging out in the guild, as usual, when she came to her realisation. Lucy had finished up an interview with Sorcerer Weekly, now a bit tired from also having done two minor jobs. She had accidentally said yes to Jason when he called late at night a few days ago, at the moment not remembering that the date was occupied by not only one, but two jobs. Wendy and Erza wanted to go on a quest that could satisfy their sweet tooth - not an easy task when Erza set her mind to it, and Natsu had made her agree to killing a smaller monster that had been pestering an old woman’s garden. Though these missions may sound like easy jobs, they have a tendency to become more complicated whenever Fairy Tail is involved.

Yes, Lucy was tired, but she was still happy. Erza and Wendy baked a wonderful cake that they shared with her, the old lady was glad to have her garden safe and sound, and Jason had pitched a great idea for his article thanks to Lucy’s tips and support. Making the people around her would never get any less satisfying, no matter how much she did it.

At the moment Lucy was sitting alone at a table close to the bar. She had left her book at home, and most people were already heading home for an early weekend. Across the guild hall Warren and Max sat deep in conversation, and a few metres away Natsu and Happy were singing some old nursery rhyme. Seeing how some of the older men were shaking their heads, they probably weren’t getting the lyrics right, but when they sang so confidently no one had the heart to stop them.

As the singing died down, Lucy got a good look at her two best friends. They often resembled father and son in Lucy’s eyes, even if they tried to act like strictly best pals. Because despite their unconditional friendship, their bond couldn’t be described with those words. They didn’t cut deep enough. Yes, Natsu was a good friend to Happy, but whenever they calmed down she saw affection deeply grained in his eyes. The way his smile softened around Happy, and the way his sharp eyes got a soothing gaze - they were nothing else but fatherly love.

Lucy knew Natsu could get insecure with how he had raised Happy. At his young age, raising a baby became a game of trial and error, which he understood when he got older to be less than optimal around such fragile creatures. Plus, being abandoned (even by accident) by his own father at a young age, meant that he never felt quite sure in his parenting methods. Luckily Fairy Tail stood by his side during these years, and despite the ups and downs that came with living this life, Happy became a wonderful exceed. Lucy hoped Natsu knew what a wonderful life Happy had led thanks to him, because he had put so much effort and determination into giving Happy a safe and, well, happy life.

Lucy found Natsu completely remarkable. The man had been through hell and back multiple times in his life, and always came out smiling. Truthfully, Lucy might just believe him to be invincible. He had lost very few serious battles during all the years she had known him. Sure, a match against Makarov, Gildarts or Erza was practically never a win, but she had this feeling deep within her heart that made her believe that if he ever met an opponent their strength or stronger, Natsu still wouldn’t lose. He’s the strongest mage Lucy can think of - his physical strength might not be the strongest in the world on its own, but combined with his beastly magical capacity and his never ending flame of love and determination, he could be deemed unstoppable.

What impressed Lucy the most was the way he had grown to be this way all thanks to his own mindset. One could be abandoned by their father and end up in a dark guild or begging on the streets, but Natsu wandered around until he got found and taken in. One could be ridiculed for their naive and childish ways and fall into a depression, or get filled with copious amounts of rage, but Natsu didn’t. He has always used that to his advantage, making enemies confused, or he has used these traits to joke around and make friends with the most unexpected people (Gray might be an exception to this - if Gray ridicules him, Natsu meets him with a fist). And the list goes on! People can go bad from losing their parents right in front of them, they can go bad from watching loved ones die right in front of them, etc etc, but Natsu always bounced back brighter and stronger. It was the most attractive thing about him in Lucy’s opinion. Well, almost.

Lucy couldn’t properly describe Natsu without mentioning his love for his friends and his guild. She had long suspected that the one true magic was love, but it was made so clear when she met Natsu. When she tagged along to Mt. Hakobe in order to find Macao, she saw it with her own two eyes - Natsu was always fighting for all of his friends. No matter what the fight was or who he was up against, he carried all of his friends on his shoulders, and with time and effort they grew, along with the love he had for them. The fact that Lucy was even counted for when they were fighting the Macao-vulcan, made her question his sanity sometimes. The boy who had expressed nothing but annoyance at her when she tagged along, still swore in his name to protect those he cared for - no matter how much they bugged him. Because at the end of the day, Natsu had still picked Lucy up in Hargeon, and that was to him enough reason to fight for her.

Natsu’s love was like nothing else in the entire world. Lucy knew she shared the sentiment with the rest of the guild, who all in some way had seen his complete love and trust for the guild in action. She knew this, but sometimes she thought that being his closest companion, she had probably seen it a bit more vividly than the others. Lucy felt Natsu’s love every second with him. She felt it when she fell asleep on her writing desk and woke up in her bed the next morning. She felt it when they were outside and Natsu put his arm out in front of her whenever he heard something slightly suspicious. She felt it when she found post it-notes on the fridge with apologies for eating something she had bought, or with promises to go grocery shopping for her the next time she had to go out. His love was radiant in every waking action - actually, let’s rephrase that; in every action, awake or not, because she never forgot the times he would sleep in her bed and unconsciously make room for her when she got in, and she never forgot the times he’d give her more of the blanket when her temperature seemed to go down.

Natsu loved loudly and greatly, and for that Lucy loved him even more. She truly loved it all, his pink soft hair that he styled in the morning with the heat from his hands, his unruly, expressive eyebrows that always showed all his emotions like an open book, his deep, dark, loving eyes that could look so fierce and so tender, his adorably crooked nose that twitched when he smelled something nice, his sharp but welcoming smile that could hold the anger of a dragon and the softness of a father all at once. She loved his body that protected, carried and fought for his guild, and she loved his silly choices of clothes that had to be specially tailored. She loved his lighthearted personality that drew out the child in everyone he met, and she loved his amazing sharp fighting senses that not only made the jobs they went on easier, but also made them more fun than she ever knew work could be.

Dear God, how she loved him. And the best part? She would get to love him forever, because that’s the one promise she knows he’ll do anything in his power to keep. That’s what she loved the most.

#fairy tail natsu #team natsu #fairy tail nalu #natsu x lucy #natsu dragneel #lucy fairy tail #fanfics #fairy tail #lucy x natsu #nalu #nalu fanfic #my writing #hiro mashima #lucy heartfilia #ft lucy #fairy tail 100 years quest #fairy tail fanfiction

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ethereal-engene · 7 months

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Today Was A Fairytale | joonyoung

pairing: Jacob x fem!reader

genre: slice-of-life, non-idol!AU, and fluff // warnings: mentions of food and usage of cuss words

summary: Jacob finally decides this summer, he’ll finally confess to you. Little does he know, he ends up turning one of your fairytales into a dream. // word count: ~2.6k

note: I hope you enjoy this and this is my submission for deoboyznet’s summer on you event! aND @sungbeam this is lowkey for you 🤭 // AND THANK YOU TO DUCKIE FOR THE GRAPHIC 🥹💗

For as long as you could remember, you’d been in love with stargazing and had wanted to sleep under the stars, at least once in your life. Something about seeing all the stars paint the night sky with their twinkling made you feel so calm and content.

It was especially magical because you could only see them once a year because of your family’s yearly summer trip to your beach house. Spending a good majority of your life stuck in the city made it practically impossible to see the stars due to the light pollution. Besides the beautiful scenery at the beach house, there was one more thing you also looked forward to.

Okay, it’s not really a thing per say, it was more like someone. Someone who you grew up with. Someone who you have grown to form a crush over for years now. Someone who you thought was the brightest star in your life. Someone who you couldn’t imagine life without. And someone who you thought wouldn’t like you back so you never took a chance of telling him.

This someone was the one and only Jacob Bae. His and your family became good friends after finding out that their children were the same age. Both of you were quite shy and so that meant it took awhile for you to warm up to each other.

All it took was him to start singing a nursery rhyme and for you to sing along. Since then, your friendship blossomed. Over the years, you spent your summers together doing activities such as campfire nights, beach days, exploring the city, and more. Campfire nights were one of your favorites because that meant you got to hear Jacob singing.

“Cobie, I’m telling you. Your voice is angelic and any label would be dumb to reject you. If they do, I’ll personally tell them off and then we’ll walk to get ice cream or something. Whatever you want to feel better, but I will not let you get into your head and think that your talent is not good enough.” Staring into your eyes, he can tell that you’re serious. You place one hand in his and the other over your heart.

“Besides, even if you think that it’s not enough. You’ll always be more than enough to me. Don’t you forget it.”

All he could do in response was send a shy smile your way accompanied with a thanks. If only you knew how he truly felt hearing that from you. His heart felt so full of love and appreciation.

It meant a lot and managed to help him get through more auditions. Eventually, he got offered contracts to sign at various labels. After much consideration and looking through them from the help of lawyers, he settled on the one that seemed the most promising.

Jacob was elated to share the news but he wanted to do something special to tell you. Not only that, but for some reason a heartstring was being tugged at. It was telling him to confess. It worried him that you wouldn’t like him back and that confessing would ruin the friendship you had.

Talking to his friends, they were not about to let him back down from confessing. Let’s just say, they’ve gotten tired of him talking about you as if you hung the stars and moon in the sky.

Sangyeon says to him, “Jacob. Listen to me, right now. There’s a chance that she likes you back! How will you ever know if you never tell her? You have to take a leap of faith and just go for it. We’ll emotionally support you from afar. Now, go and get the girl of your dreams!!”

Jacob knows that those words of encouragement should ease his doubts, but he can’t help them from spilling from his mouth. While talking, he’s found pacing the room back and forth.

“Thanks but I don’t know. Can I really pull this off? What if she hates me for the rest of her life for telling her? I really cannot imagine life without her. She’s one of the best people I know and who else would I write my songs about? I-“

Eric cuts him off, “JACOB, I'M PRETTY SURE SHE LIKES YOU BACK AND DON’T WORRY IF SHE DOESN’T LIKE YOU BACK. THERE WILL BE SOMEONE WHO DOES. STOP BEING SO DOWN BAD FOR HER AND GET WITH HER. WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, WE’RE TIRED OF HEARING YOU TALK ABOUT HER.”

As soon as Jacob heard Eric’s voice, he quickly pulled his ear away from the phone. Sighs follow and he ends the phone call with another thanks.

Sitting at his desk, his shoulders slump forward as he tries to figure out what to do. Slowly hyping himself, his shoulders and back start to straighten up. Then he starts to plan things out. He remembers hearing that you really liked to go stargazing when it was summer vacation. Funnily enough, even after all these years together. Not once gone have y’all gone stargazing together.

As the hours passed by, he came up with the idea to take you to a place where the stars looked the best, a picnic, tell you the good news of him getting accepted into a label, sing a song he wrote for you and of course telling you that he liked you. One more thing, sleeping under the stars.

Unbeknownst to him, one of your dreams was to always sleep under the stars. Either it be done by yourself or with someone you really liked. You had wanted to do it but your parents always rejected the idea because it was dangerous if you did it by yourself. Understanding their perspective, you never did it.

He even told your mom about the plan and she was very excited to help. It was quite hard for her to not spoil the surprise to you and also tell him that you liked him a whole lot back. She thought it was a super sweet and cute idea.

time skip to the first day of the beach house

The first thing you did when you arrived was run to the beach. Smelling the saltiness in the air and feeling the sand in your feet. What a wonderful feeling it was to always return to. You got a little lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear someone calling your name.

“Y/n? You there??” Jacob waving his hands in front of your eyes. With a shake of your head, you saw him. Then and there, you pulled him into a hug. He was a bit taken back by the gesture but he wasn’t complaining. “It’s so good to finally see you again, Cobie! I feel like it’s been forever but it’s all good because now we’ve got three months together!”

“It’s good to see you too! Here’s to summer vacation together and making the best of the three months we’ve got. Come on, let’s get your stuff unpacked. I have a surprise for you when you’re done.” Your eyebrows furrow and head tilts to the side. A surprise?

“Come find me at our spot. I’ll be waiting for you!”. His cute smiles graces his face and he leaves you standing there like an idiot. What the fuck is the surprise? You’re about to shout for him but you’re trying to figure out what it’s for. No time for thinking though. An adrenaline rush hits you as you hurriedly unpack.

Once you’re done, you want to just do nothing but lay in bed. The rush of energy left your body when you put the last outfit in your closet. But then it peaks again as you wonder what you should wear. Looking through your closet, you pick up a new fit you’ve been meaning to wear since you got it. Snapping a couple of fits before walking to the spot to meet him.

Upon arrival, you see him and walk over. He looks you up and down before meeting your eyes. “I love your new outfit. It suits you.”

“I could say the same about you. This shirt compliments you quite well, if I do say so myself.”

His shirt is a loose shirt leaving his chest slightly open. Not his typical style but he thought to try something new today. Then he holds out his hand for you to place your hand in. “Follow my lead.” Making your way to the place, you try to pry it out of him of what the surprise is for. “Listen, my lips are sealed. However, you’re free to ask me anything else.”

“Ughhhh but Cobieeee. I already know everything about you. Why can’t you just tell me? At least a clue??”. A shake of the head follows and random topics of conversations are conversed. When you finally arrive at the destination, you can’t help but marvel at the scene. A perfect view of the beach and where the sun meets the sky appears in front of you. Not only that but a picnic blanket is there too.

Taking your seats, you stare at him with stars in your eyes. Jacob holds eye contact with you before facing somewhere else. Lord knows that his face is turning red right now. You’re wearing an absolutely stunning dress and the way you just looked at him. Someone please call 911, he’s a goner. Along with the way your face keeps on shining as he watches you pull out your favorite foods from the basket.

This is why he asked for your mom’s help; to help prepare the food. Jacob is great at many things but unfortunately cooking is not one of them. “You even got our childhood favorite snacks! I thought they didn’t sell this anymore. Oh my god Cobie, you’re going to make me cry.” Midway through his snacking, his head tilts up so fast when he hears that. His hands waving frantically as he says, “No, no! Please don’t cry!! If you cry, you’ll make me cry too.” His words are laced with nervousness. One look at him and you let out a laugh.

“This is the sweetest thing someone has ever done for me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this from you but I appreciate it a lot! Thank you, I mean it.” Grabbing another piece of the food to eat, Jacob grabs your hands and puts them in his.

“Of course, you know I’d do anything for you but that’s not all for tonight.” Turning on the portable lamp, he scoots closer to you and gently turns your head to the sky.

An audible gasp is heard before placing your hand over your mouth. “They’re so beautiful. I can’t believe this is our first time stargazing together. They must have forgotten about a star tonight because you’re here next to me.”

Turning your head, you face each other. Smiles break out on your faces and you both think about each other. Not long after a moment of silence, he helps you sit up. “Actually y/n. I brought you here for two reasons. The first being that I got offered a spot at a label and I start soon! I really couldn’t have done it without your help and support. I can’t believe that my dream is coming true. Thank you for always encouraging me and being a day one.” Hearing that made your heart so happy for him.

“AH I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU! Oh Cobie, you never have to thank me for being your supporter. I always knew you had it in you, you just needed a push. I can’t wait to hear all your songs and attend your concerts!! The world’s gonna know all about my Cobie. I’m so proud of you and this is really only the beginning.” Bringing him into another long hug. He can hear the happiness dripping from your sweet words.

“Ah ah, don’t say I don’t have to thank you. I really do. You and my family. The literal backbone of me even deciding to do this in the first place. Now if you’ll let me, I have a song for you.”

He whips out his guitar and starts strumming a melody. In this moment, he closes his eyes and lets the lyrics tell you the words that he’s been dying to tell you. His fears of rejection also leave his body as he sings. Somewhere in his mind, he knows that you’ll accept it.

Jacob’s eyes flutter open when he’s done and for the millionth time tonight. You guys hold eye contact and before he can even stop himself, he whispers “Y/n, I like you a lot and it would mean the world to me and more if you would be my girlfriend. But like you know, you can say no too. No pressure or anything. You’re just so precious to me and I wanted to let you know how I felt before I backed out of this-”.

Placing your finger to stop him from rambling more. “I like you too and humbly accept your offer to be your girlfriend. Thank you for this wonderful night. It’s like something out of a fairytale. From the stars out to the confession. Actually you’re like someone out of a fairytale. The way you’re always kind and loving to those around you. The passion you have for music that now gets to be shared with the world. I get to be the girlfriend to an amazing man!”

His heart warms at our words as usual. But holy shit, he did it!!

Grabbing your hands, he places it over his chest for you to feel how fast his heart is beating. “I can’t believe I got a girlfriend. I can’t put into words how happy I am. I won’t let you down and will be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. AH I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU’RE MY GIRLFRIEND! THIS IS SO AWESOME!!”

Laughter fills the air and you try to quiet down since it’s nighttime. Lying down on the blanket and holding each other, he lands a kiss onto your forehead before drifting off to sleeping. You look up at the sky filled with so many stars and then look to your side. There, of course, you see Jacob. Speaking to no-one but the stars, “Look guys, here’s the guy I told you all about. Thank you for aligning so we could get together.”

“Sweetheart, you can still say no to meeting my friends, you know?”. He sets up his computer, getting ready to voice call them.

“No, no. I have to meet the guys behind making sure you confessed to me. They sound like a fun group to be around.” A couple of rings go through before a screen of 10 other men show up. They’re silent for a few minutes before all screaming at Jacob for not telling them that you were there. Leave it to Sangyeon to mute them all and tell them to behave.

One by one they introduce themselves and get back to being their rowdy selves. Of course, they mention how much Jacob fawned over you and it made you laugh, but your man wanted to bury himself into a hole. It was crazy to think that he was a part of this friend group because who would have thought a quiet guy like him is friends with very loud people?

Before the call ends, Eric quickly shouts “I told you Jacob. She did like you back!”. And also they all wanted you guys to kiss, not without them all expressing their disgust. “Okay, okay. Thanks guys but we really gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, bye now!” With that, the call ended.

“Oh Cobie, I can’t wait to meet them again. They seem like a very fun bunch! And I also 100% need to hear more of these stories of you being a simp for me.”

apologies in advance for how bad the dialogue is but 😭 I wanted to get this out b/c something about cobie and this song just makes so much sense to me. Writing for Cobie is actually so comforting and easy, I love him 🥹

Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this! If you did, please reblog it with your thoughts in the tags, leave a note, or even send an ask/dm to me! I appreciate them a lot.

signing off with love,

- ash

#kflixnet #deoboyznet #dbn: summer on you #the boyz x reader #the boyz fluff #tbz x reader #jacob bae x reader #joonyoung x reader #tbz jacob #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz x you #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagines #ash and queue

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