#➵ taking the reins (drabble)
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Andrei's eyes open, blinking away the haze of sleep as he turns towards the door. The length of the flickering candle on the wall telling him it's nearly morning, but not quite. It's not a nightmare that had woken him, so what could—
Crack.
All thoughts of sleep immediately flees him as his gaze whips to the basket sitting on the bedside table, at the egg laying atop the furs lining the basket.
The egg that now has a sizeable crack lining its width, almost like a split grin.
As Andrei watches, there is another soft crack, the grin widening a sliver as the occupant of the egg moves within the shell. He sinks to the floor by the bed, eyes level with the basket, and stays in that position, observing the process.
It takes longer than he expects, the slight movement every few seconds punctuated by stretches of silence in between. Fingers hover over the egg hesitantly, before withdrawing. All birds must hatch by their own power, isn't that right?
After an achingly long time, it finally tumbles out of the shell altogether in one motion, a tiny, bright pink little thing with a sparse covering of yellow feathers and pieces of broken eggshell stuck to its body. In the candlelight, he could just make out a pair of wings, a beak, a pair of eyes, tightly shut.
"...Cranberry," Andrei breathes, the name suddenly all too fitting for the newborn.
Then, a high-pitched squeal from the hatchling sends him immediately to his feet, and Andrei, basket in hand, is out of the door and heading towards the tunnel that leads out of the Abyss before any of the others in the dormitory could wake. The thought that he now had, not an egg, but a real, live, very small and vulnerable bird on his hands just now dawning in his mind.
He needs to go find Naesala immediately.
Congratulations! The egg has hatched!
#i'm gonna go out on a limb and say that#andrei as a noble raised in a time and setting where pigeons are still useful for communication esp in wartime#and for whom pigeon was the very first idea to come to mind when asked about what pet he'd like to have#would have roughly the same pre-research knowledge as someone in the 21st century with access to the internet#and a reasonable interest in animals not specific to pigeons#so i'll base his knowledge on what i knew about pigeons two weeks ago before i fell down the research hole in preparation for cranberry#➵ taking the reins (drabble)#➵ cranberry
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FIRESIDE ✦
INFO: atla jet x gn! reader drabble, 1.4k words...... (bad writing i'm not proud💀)
SYNOPSIS: you're the damsel in distress that falls for your saving grace. or: delusion
WARNINGS: tiny bit of blood
AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read (it wasn't supposed to be this long), I wrote this post without making it a proper fic to make up for the lack of jet fanfictions anywhere please take my contribution 😞 listen to fireside by the arctic monkeys 👍
You're a travelling merchant dealing in handmade weapons. Your craft is passed down in your family, and you recently left your hometown on your own for the first time to travel to Ba Sing Se to make a living there.
The day you two first met, you'd been on your horse all day, dragging behind you a creaky stand containing your life’s worth of materials and weapons (rattling with each step – it was beginning to grate on your nerves) with no signs of the glaring sun easing on your weary limbs. So when the forest suddenly falls far too silent for your liking, you don’t even notice in your heat stricken malady.
It’s only when a group of bandits abruptly seizes the reins of your horse, sawing loose your saddle straps when you realise you’re under attack. But by then, they’re already beginning to rifle through your belongings as you fall unceremoniously onto the hard dirt path, wincing as a bandit grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you up.
You reach for the sword at your belt – the one that you crafted yourself under the guidance of your father once he’d deemed you skilled enough – but you didn’t even need to draw it before a bird call sounded amidst the cacophonous riot.
Emerging from the thick treeline, a band of – kids? Jumped out, wielding perilously sharp and comically large weapons for their ages and sizes. The bandits scoffed at their appearance, brandishing their vicious looking blades at the children who charged at them.
Then the vice-like grip on your shoulders eased, and a hand appeared in the peripherals of your vision.
As you took the hand being offered – calloused and rough, yet warm – your saviour gave you a cursory glance, checking you for injury. When he finally met your gaze, you both froze in place.
Warm eyes, tanned skin, dark, unruly hair that loosely framed his face. In his other hand he held two long, hooked swords that gleamed in the harsh light.
Jet couldn’t tell whether you were simply shocked or there was something wrong – either way, there was a fight surging around you, and there was no time for greetings and formalities.
(if you looked for any longer, you’d have seen the slight blush dusting his cheeks)
“Behind,” You had no time to process his meaning before he stepped in front of you, meeting the serrated blade of the bandit with his own weapons in a deafening clash of steel. You quickly drew your sword and slashed at the arm of another bandit whose club soared a high arc above Jet’s head, eliciting a howl of pain as they dropped the club onto the ground and scrambled for the trees.
You two seemed to make a pretty good pair.
After the dust had settled, he offered you his flask of water, chest heaving, hair clinging to his forehead with perspiration, with a grin playing across his face.
“Thank you.” You take it, drinking your fill before capping the container. “But who are you?”
“We’re the freedom fighters.” His companions wave at you as they attempt to salvage the wreckage of your goods (which you supposed you should’ve also been doing, but you’d had a long day).
“And you?”
“They call me Jet.” he smiles, a glint in his eyes. “But you can call me whatever you want.”
I hate myself for writing that line but I can’t think of another thing for him to say
Anyway time skip a little, he showed you to the freedom fighter’s hideout, and you decide to pay them back for saving you by giving their weapons a little maintenance
They offer you further kindness by inviting you to stay for dinner, to which you accept – what choice did you have after the bandits spoiled most of your food on the ground?
You sharpen some swords, polish some daggers, and share a meal with the ragtag freedom fighters around the fire, laughing along with crude jokes shared about clumsy bandits.
Then Jet comes up to you with his hooked swords hanging loosely from his grip – offering them to you for maintenance – and your curiosity gets the better of you.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” You observe the craftsmanship of his swords, testing their balance, running your finger along the blade’s hooked ends.
“Pretty neat, huh? They’re Tiger Blades. Traditional weapon.”
“Where’d you get them?”
“Stole it from a firebending soldier.”
You raised your eyebrows skeptically. “You fight off firebending soldiers regularly?”
A grin. “When the job calls for it.”
“That’s not… dangerous?”
“You’ve seen me fight, haven’t you?”
In the firelight, his eyes are alight with molten gold.
“So your job isn’t just saving random people from bandits?”
He laughs, and the sound fills the air between you with warmth.
“I wouldn’t say you’re a random person,” you look up, but his gaze is cast into the fire, unreadable.
When he doesn’t say anything further, you sustain the silence, only rummaging through your bags to find another stone to sharpen his blade with before the thought occurs to you.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ah, I’d rather not try to sharpen this blade. I don’t know how.” you attempt to hand it back, but he stops you.
“I can show you,” he leaves the unspoken question hanging in the air, watching you with a certain hopefulness in his eyes.
You nod wordlessly, and you hand him the stone, watching him tie his hair up. His brows furrow as he angles the blade, quickly running the stone along its edge. But you can’t focus on the blade – not really – as the firelight illuminates his features, basking them in a soft glow.
“It’s not that hard – well it won’t be, for someone as experienced as you.”
You’re grateful for the dim light, or he would’ve seen the blush highlighting your cheeks.
“You just guide the stone along the edge as usual,” he absently says under his breath, “and use more force here.”
You nod blankly as he turns back to you, handing you the blade and the stone.
“There you go.”
You move to grab the handle of the blade, but your finger catches on its edge, drawing blood.
“Shit,” you lick the blood off your finger, wincing slightly as it rapidly flows out.
“Sorry, I –”
“No, it’s not your fault. I wasn’t careful.” you shake your hand, grimacing at the throbbing pain.
“Smellerbee, could you fetch the bandages?”
“What? Why me?”
“Just – do it. Please.”
Smellerbee grumbles something under his breath as he leaves.
You nurse your injured finger as it pulsates, face drawn in pain.
“You have a little something –”
“Huh?” your gaze flickers between him and your finger, unsure of what he means.
“Here,” his fingers graze your chin as he wipes off blood from your face – from the initial injury, when you tried to lick up the blood from your wound.
Your face heats up as his touch lingers, skimming across your chin to your cheek.
He’s utterly captivated, it seems.
“Am I interrupting something?”
He snatches his hand away with a look of guilt, and you turn away. “Ah. Smellerbee.”
“...I’ll leave the bandages here.”
“Thanks.”
“.........Don’t mention it.”
He bandages your finger with deft movements. Neither of you speak a word, but nothing needs to be said. The tension between you is electric, and any onlooker can tell with a mere glance (especially after Smellerbee went and groaned about the two of you to Pipsqueak and Longshot).
After he bandages your finger, he gets up from his place at the fire.
“You’re staying the night, right?”
You nod.
“Smellerbee will show you to your tent.” your disappointment must be visible on your face, because he huffs a laugh. “I’m sorry I can’t. I have duties to attend to. But you’ll be here for breakfast, right?”
You nod. He seemed to have that speechless effect on you.
“Right then, uh, goodnight.” he smiles, appearing to hesitate for a moment before walking off.
“You guys are gross.” Smellerbee mutters from beside you.
“What?”
“Gross. Look at what you do to him. And don’t you give me that clueless look or I swear.”
Neither of you could sleep that night.
(but when you woke up there was a bright basket of fresh berries arranged with little flowers throughout it at the door of your tent. You can only wonder who sent it, and why there was a note reading “sorry about your finger, please let me make it up to you.”)
written by @atlaswav, published 3rd of March 2024
#atla#avatar the last airbender#atla live action#avatar the last airbender live action#jet atla#atla jet#jet x reader#jet drabble#it wasn't supposed to be this long#sebastian amoruso#sebastian amoruso is so MMHMETJAFK#jet#☁️. writing
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give me this
miguel o’hara x reader
tw: breeding kink, cockwarming while bantering, 18+ readers only
1.2k words
summary: miguel, with his insatiable need for control, was struggling with another urge--the insatiable need to stuff you with his cock, sprung from a mix of stress and frustration with his job.
a/n: wow this was legit supposed to be a drabble but my horny brain got the best of me
hips flush against yours, miguel lets out an earth-shattering groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. his cock spurts hotly inside of you, his seed seeping into you until you’re overflowing with him, until it’s dripping out onto the sheets below. miguel grunts out a mierda, his cock stubbornly dragging against your walls, attempting to fuck his spend even deeper, to make good of the load he’s given you.
don’t waste it, he’d told you once, in the throes of things, breathless and flushed-faced. after telling you of his deepest desire to have you stuffed full of his seed. to have you bursting to the brim with his essence, to secure all chances that it had taken root. and he’s making good on his promise now, rocking his hips against yours intently, drawing out every last inch of his explosive orgasm, his arms quaking with the sheer amount of effort it takes to hold himself up in the face of sheer mind-blowing pleasure.
and while miguel was often the type to take you hard and fast, against any surface that he had enough time to--the bedroom, the kitchen, against the bathroom counter, in his control room--in the rare moments where he had time to--it was even rarer that he had enough time to drag things out. to savor every last moan and whine from your lips, to revel in the clench of your walls around him. lyla had been instructed to stay away for the next few hours, and he’d (reluctantly) handed the reins over to jess, who had suggested he needed a break after one too many snappish comments, after one too many consoles he had broken in his misdirected anger. and miguel, with his insatiable need for control, was struggling with another urge--the insatiable need to stuff you with his cock, sprung from a mix of stress and frustration with his job.
the muscles in his ass clench as he pumps the few last spurts into you, grinding his hips a bit, noting with a sort of proud hedonism the squelch of his cock against your slick walls. finally with the last spurt, miguel collapses against you with a grunt. he’s careful not to press all his weight against you, but he can’t deny it--he’s winded. he draws ragged breaths, panting harshly. despite the fact that you two had gone slower this time, had dragged things out, that he hadn’t fucked the living daylights out of you as soon as he could, it was intense.
“--gehl.”
he presses a kiss to the sweaty nape of your neck, his eyes slipping shut. god, the way he could just sink into you here, forget for a second the job waiting for him back at base.
you always had this effect on him. that’s what made you a liability.
a liability, but one he would gladly indulge in over and over again.
“miguel.”
he grunts once he realizes you’ve been calling him. “yes, amor?” his voice is hoarse, no doubt a result of the various groans and grunts you pull from him in the last hour. he rolls onto his side, careful to not let his cock slip out of you. nonetheless, the shift in position has some of his spend dribbling out onto your thigh. you pull a face, one that he catches.
“what is it?”
you squirm, your tone petulant. “it’s sticky. you came so much, miguel.”
miguel stiffens, the retort on his tongue before he can think twice. “it’s never been a problem befo--” he stops himself, before sighing, relaxing his shoulders. it’s a bad habit of his, to use venom to hide his wounds.
“perdóname, amor.” he presses his nose against your head, inhaling deeply. your presence grounding him. “i’ll clean you up later, okay?”
“miguel...” you reach for him, cupping his chin. you eye the deep crease in his brow with barely concealed amusement. “i’m just joking, babe. i don’t mind.”
he gives you a half-hearted hmmph, full of attitude despite its brevity. accompanied by his signature eye-roll.
“… thought so. you’ve never complained before,” he grumbles.
“you’ve never cum this much before,” you point out.
he makes a sound in the back of his throat, his mouth pulled into a grimace, before he sighs and glances away. at the sound of you calling his name again (and once more when he doesn’t respond), he snaps irritably, “¿qué quieres?”
“aww, don’t be mad, miguel. i just like teasing you is all,” you say soothingly, pressing your chin against his chest to glance up at his scowling face. “you’re cute when you worry. especially over me.”
“yeah, yeah, and you definitely give me so much to worry about.” he says, rolling his eyes. but his words are blunt with no bite. when you nuzzle into his chest, his gaze softens as he rests his chin atop your head. you find yourself drifting off to the steady thrum of miguel’s heart in his chest, matching your own. that is, until your arm under him begins to go numb, and you attempt to wriggle away from him.
his arms tighten around your waist instinctively. you briefly hear him huff, to which you give him a curious look.
“you don’t want me to...”
he nudges his hips against yours, and despite the state of his softened cock, the sheer girth of him is still enough to fill you. you gasp.
"...no,” he says, rolling his hips once more. “not yet.”
you clench around him, and miguel inhales sharply, a hand slipping from your waist to grasp at your thigh. he’s careful not to dig his claws into you, wary as he is of hurting you, but the sheer size of his hand, nearly wrapping entirely around your thigh, is a reminder of just how much he holds himself back.
“don’t move,” he says gruffly. “it’s sensitive.”
you squirm again. his cock twitches to life inside you, blood pumping to his spent appendage as his claws dig into your thigh now. a warning of what’s to come, of the thin strand of control that could snap any second.
he exhales sharply. “i’m serious, mi amor. not unless you want another go.”
you pout, wiggling around to better adjust to your positioning. on the surface, miguel hardly seems like the kind of man who would be a cuddle hogger, but in the few times you’ve together, you’ve learned just how opportunistic he can be--demanding every bit of your attention, every dip and curve of your body.
he strokes your thigh, pressing his lips against the crown of your head.
“…sorry it’s uncomfortable.” the words are murmured against your skin, a strangely hesitant lilt undertaking miguel’s voice. “i’ll clean you up later. for now though… give me this, please.”
he says it almost as if it’s a favor, a request he’s asking of you. little did miguel know there was little you wouldn’t do for him, much less tangled in his arms, the heat of his body diffusing through the thin material of his suit, his cock nestled snugly inside you.
“of course, querido. you don’t even need to ask”
and that’s how the both of you end up dozing off, with the gentle rocking of his hips against yours, the feel of his lips against your skin, and the steady thrum of his heart beneath your palms.
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara imagine#atsv x reader#atsv smut#not sfw#th0ti writes
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Author's Note: Not gonna lie, I had to look this up when I first received this request ahaha. It's a cute concept. But a huge thank you to the anon who sent this in, and I apologize it took so long to write! I've been working on other request and fics. I hope you like it!
Word Count: 1.5k (trying to write shorter drabbles than whole ass fics)
Warnings: Slight spoilers for season three. Slightly NSFW.
* * *
The Best-Kept Secrets - Levi Ackerman x Female Reader
You two struggle to rein in your breath as you hide side by side behind a wall of a brick and mortar building in an alleyway.
“Captain, quick! Kiss me!”
“What? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
“No, just trust me,” you urge in between clenched teeth as you take off both yours and his Scouts cloaks. You throw them into a nearby barrel. Captain Levi looks at you like you have snakes slithering out of your ears.
When he doesn’t respond, you take the initiative and switch positions with him so it’s you who is closest to the alley. After all, they’re after the Captain, not you. Your spine presses against the cold structure further as you hear a crowd of footsteps fastly approaching.
“Kenny’s men, they’re coming,” you whisper. “Trust me.”
Briskly, he turns towards you. His hand reaches out to grab your waist and pushes your lips to his. Your eyes immediately close as the warmth of his mouth overtakes everything in that moment. Your arms wrap around his neck and fall off his back to try and cover his identifying factors as much as possible.
Your tongue brushes along his bottom lip. You want this to be as passionate and uncomfortable for others as possible so people don’t look your way. His mouth immediately opens to let you in. The kiss deepens further when your tongues slip against one another’s. It feels so euphoric. And he tastes warm, if that was even a sufficient way of describing it.
His hand reaches up to stroke your cheek with his thumb. His other fingers caress the hair located at the base of your skull. In between kisses, he lets out the quietest gasps, as if he’s struggling for air and forgetting to breathe. His other hand retracts into a fist of your clothing at your waist. He pushes you up gently against the wall and pulls you in closer to him, if that was even possible. Your hips connect.
The stampede of footsteps approach and pass as quickly as they come.
“Goddammit, where did they go?”
“I don’t know, just keep looking!”
Eventually, the voices disappear into the distance. It’s evident that you two are in the clear, but neither of you stop what you’re doing. The kiss continues. When his lips make a lazy trail down to your collarbones, you run a hand through his hair.
Then it hits you that you two are in a very public place and anyone can come across you at any time. Like Section Commander Hange or another soldier. They’ll misread the situation and Captain Levi will most likely get into a massive amount of trouble, even though this was your idea and yours alone.
“Captain,” you breathe out, lightly tapping his shoulder. “Captain. I… I think they’re gone.”
He immediately pulls away and peers his head into the alleyway. He looks both ways and you utilize this moment to compose yourself. You brush off your uniform and neaten it where needed. You run your hands through your hair to straighten it. He turns to you again. He looks completely unfazed, aside from the redness and puffiness of his lips.
“Looks like it worked,” he murmurs. “Nobody knows about this. Understand?”
“Understood.”
* * *
That night, you have a hard time keeping your thoughts reined in. You struggle to go to sleep. You toss back and forth for hours as you recollect the kiss between you and your superior. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you picture his hands on your waist, how smooth his tongue was, how calm and calculated his actions were.
You’ve known the man for years, but… it feels like the energy has shifted between you two. At least on your end. The rest of the mission felt awkward. He was strangely protective over you and you didn’t leave his sight. He killed any of Kenny’s men who posed the slightest threat to you. And, worst part is, he did it without thinking. You prayed that none of your fellow soldiers picked up on these things.
As you relive the scene over and over again in your mind, you remember a detail that you missed in that moment: when he pushed you up against the wall… you felt something hard on your leg. Could it… have been him? No. No, the Captain doesn’t see you that way. You two are just soldiers fighting for humanity together. Nothing more, nothing less.
Still… you cannot deny how the thought of it all excites you.
Your bunk suddenly becomes stifling. You rip the covers off you and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You dress warmly and sneak out of your sleeping quarters. You tiptoe past everyone and make your way up on the roof of HQ.
When you open the door, you’re immediately greeted with the moon shining brilliantly above you and cold winter air. It’s all so cleansing. You take a deep breath and let out a sigh. Here, it feels like time stops, like the world doesn’t even exist. Just you.
Your heart drops when you see a familiar figure with an undercut sitting at the edge. A battle ensues in your mind. Captain Levi finding you up here could result in disciplinary action being taken upon you. On the other hand… it looks like he can’t sleep either and might need someone to talk to.
After careful consideration of the risks, you decide to approach him slowly. Your footsteps are so hushed, you’re sure he can’t hear you. When you’re only a few feet away, you speak.
“Captain?”
He doesn’t bother turning around. He doesn’t say anything at all. You bite the inside of your lip.
You speak again, “Can I sit, sir?”
“Yes.”
You kneel down and sit, swinging your legs off the edge of the HQ roof with him. You two are quiet. The silence is deafening.
“What’re you doing out here?” he asks, turning to you.
“If I tell you, will I get in trouble?”
“Hm. I suppose I can keep another thing just between us.”
You let out a chuckle.
“When I can’t sleep, this is my favorite spot to be,” you explain. “It doesn’t happen often, but… it happens sometimes. What about you? Can’t sleep, either?”
“I come here when I have lots to contemplate.”
“I imagine that’s often.”
“Uh-huh.”
You and Captain Levi both look up at the full moon hanging high in the sky. Your mind races, playing through various scenarios of things you want to say to him. It’s not long before he breaks the silence.
“I want to talk about that kiss today. To make sure we’re on the same page about things.”
“Oh, sure,” your stomach churns with nervousness. “I’m listening.”
“I…” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, a gesture you’ve never seen him do before. “I want to apologize. I got too wrapped up in it and… I sincerely hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“No. No, I wasn’t uncomfortable at all! If anything, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. I mean, it was my idea.”
“It was an unconventional one, to say the least, but it worked.”
“Glad it did.”
“And you didn’t make me uncomfortable. In fact, I…”
He lets out another heavy sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He says your name.
“If I tell you something, do you promise not to repeat it?”
“Well…” you begin to mock him. “I suppose I can keep another thing just between us…”
A slight smile pulls at the edges of his lips. You smile at him.
“I…” he starts. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Because that was my first kiss.”
“Wait, what?”
“And, fuck… I… I think I feel something more for you. More than just soldiers fighting alongside one another. I have for… a while, now.”
You feel frozen in place. Your breathing even stops as you stare ahead at the expanse of the sleeping city with wide eyes. You feel his eyes bore into yours, trying to get a clue as to what you’re thinking. Most times, Captain Levi is stoic, even in the most tense and challenging situations. Seeing him like this is… jarring.
But deep down, you know the feeling is mutual.
He nearly pleads, “Say something.”
“I’m sorry, I’m… okay. I have been thinking about it quite a bit, too… and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t feel something during that kiss.”
Captain Levi pushes, “Okay…?”
“It awoken something in me, that kiss. And… I think I want to do it again.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“What’re you waiting for then, brat?”
Your head turns towards him and you lean over onto him. Your lips brush up against his and you hear Captain Levi’s breath hitch in his throat. He closes the space and kisses you with eagerness. Once again, his hands cup your face gently and his thumbs make back-and-forth motions on the apples of your cheeks.
You get high off this kiss. Everything feels euphoric, now that you know you both desire one another in a way that’s more than professional. The cold air on your skin feels tingly and all you can think about is how perfectly his mouth moves on yours.
He pulls away and looks at you with slightly widened eyes.
“What happens now?” you question.
“We’ll figure it out.”
#levi ackerman#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x you#levi aot#levi attack on titan#levi heichou#levi x reader#levi x you#snk levi#captain levi x you#levi x hange#captain levi x reader#captain levi ackerman#captain levi fanfiction#aot levi#aot x y/n#aot x reader#aot x you#aot x female reader#snk x y/n#snk x reader#snk x you#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan#attack on titan x you#attack on titan x female reader#shingeki no kyoujin#shingeki no kyojin#shingeki no kyoujin levi#shingeki no kyoujin x reader
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https://www.tumblr.com/yesimwriting/745776818108366848/when-best-friend-felix-and-reader-kiss-not-a-kiss
That kiss was HEATED. I had this thought of Felix and reader have their moment in which the kiss turns intensely passionate considering their relationship, and you mentioned that Felix wants to hook up with reader so would he ever push it. Like maybe he leads his hand on the skin of her inner thigh, but the real question is how does reader react. Would she fall into the group of people who always lets Felix take the reins and be in to the situation or would it simply freak her out because “we’re best friends.”
so happy you felt the theatrics of it all,, writing that kiss made me go hm..
i think felix is the master of pushing/blurring lines in the most lighthearted, casually dismissible way possible,, like most of the time when things are getting a little too touchy, it's when both of them are drunk/tipsy so it's easy to laugh off and dismiss,,
and whether they're drunk or sober, felix is an expert in reader's body language bc they are that close, so he's constantly subtly checking in and reminding himself that not everyone's as comfortable/casual about those things as felix
reader having an easy out is so important to him for so many reasons,, it protects the friendship and also keeps everything comfy
i feel like reader's reaction depends on so many factors...if she's fun, giggly tipsy and she's happy she'll probably be more open to things,, only pulling away/slowing things down if she realizes she wants things to go further bc while felix might be okay with hooking up with friends, she's scared of getting lumped into the group that obsessively hangs off his arm
if she's feeling a little insecure/jealous,, i can see reader being even more okay with things,, can also see felix picking up on that and trying to use it to his advantage, but that's another thing
however they are not perfect and felix is the type to border on being a little too into the reader and he's also so pretty and reader is just a girl
so let's have a drabble on that :))
"And what--" A laugh tumbles into the words, clumsy and a little breathless. The sound leaves you warm all over, not unlike the feel of sunlight soaking into your skin after an English winter. "What was--what was that last guy on about?"
The question is so enthusiastic, you can't help but grin. Felix is so determined to piece together the words he barely heard as you--with Farleigh's help--attempted to guide him into a cab. "I think he was trying to kick you out."
Felix turns onto his side, head shifting to rest against the edge of his pillow, the angle awkward enough to strain his neck. You make a mental note to not let him fall asleep like that. "I don't think so."
You laugh. "I do."
"You're very cyclical."
Another laugh as your elbow presses into his mattress for support as you try to sit up a little more. You're an odd combination of drained and giddy. Your limbs feel weighed down, making each movement a major commitment, and yet everything's okay. Fuzzy and warm and happy. "You mean cynical?"
In an impressive display of focus, Felix pushes himself so that he's almost sitting, most of his weight resting on his forearm. He pauses, staying there for a beat before sitting up fully. "I said that."
"No," you mumble with an exaggerated shake of your head. "You said cycli--cyclical, which is when something's a circle." You pause, mind not exactly catching up with your mouth. "Goes. It goes in circles, like a cycle--because it's a cycle." You sigh at your uncertainty, turning your head to look at him. "Cycles are just circles?"
Felix presses his lips together, spine straightening as he shifts even closer. "They go in circles, Lovie."
The corner of his mouth tugs itself upwards. His knee close to yours. You straighten your legs, the exposed skin of your thigh pressing against his leg. "Very astute."
Felix's chin dips downwards, his gaze falling towards the bed. You look down, squinting at wrinkled sheets and resting limbs in an attempt to understand what he's looking at. His fingers move to rest against your leg. "All from trying to keep up with you."
You lift your head at the sudden lowness of his voice. How long has he been this close? "Well, you're doing a really good job."
"High praise."
He angles his head forward. A strand of his hair falls forward, but Felix doesn't react. His attention remains solely on you.
Being able to openly examine Felix this closely is a rare luxury. The low lighting of the room tinges his skin with a warm glow. His features are always lovely, but when he's this relaxed they seem better suited to him. There's a lightness that contrasts from any sharpness, a softness that makes him such a gentle giant not even his eyebrow piercing can redeem him.
You've seen people be intimidated by him, have picked up on the way that some avoid his gaze when wandering around campus and how they twist themselves to please him. You fully aware that it's possible, but you're having an extremely hard time grasping it.
You tilt your chin up a fraction of an inch without a second thought, your lips now so close to his jaw it'd be so easy to...
You dismiss the train of thought as assuredly as you can manage anything right now. Your resolve feels unsteady as you part your lips. There's something you should say...some second joke or something else entirely.
Felix's hand shifts forward, his fingers now closer to your inner thigh than the edge of your leg. He drags his thumb against your skin carefully, a steady back and forth pattern.
His eyes find yours before dipping his head forward. He presses his lips against yours, the contact steady and soft. Questioning. You tilt your head upwards, your bottom lip dragging against his.
A hand finds the back of your head, guiding you back. He's everywhere, fingers in your hair, hand inching further up your inner thigh. And yet it's not close enough. The urge for more of this, more of Felix is dizzying.
You part your lips further, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. He moves without breaking contact, settling his weight against his knees. His fingers press into your thigh, gently encouraging your legs to adjust to make room for him. You register a faint tug against your hair. Felix pulls your bottom lip between his teeth.
He pulls back slowly, teeth grazing against your lip before releasing you. The loss of contact, of total distraction, leaves you breathless. So breathless you're shocked that you didn't notice before.
Still panting, the reality of all you didn't notice hits you hard. You and Felix are comfortable with each other...more comfortable than a lot of best friends are. But he's--he's close in a way that you're not sure he's been before.
You're quiet, eyes focused on a spot just above Felix's shoulder. This can't possibly change things between the two of you. You've been drinking and--and what's a tipsy kiss between the two of you? Besides, Felix started it, so he can't feel weird about it. You press your lips together, forcing yourself to not think about the fact that you did nothing to stop it, or even slow it down.
He takes his time untangling himself from you. His hand moves away from your head, fingers trailing down to your shoulder. He squeezes your thigh once before taking his hand back. Felix shifts back, moving to sit next to you.
Felix exhales, body relaxing. He reaches forward, hand searching for yours. You squeeze his palm to yours. "You're getting good at that."
You're not sure you've done much of what just happened, but his praise feels so light and genuine, you have to smile. "All from trying to keep up with you."
Felix lets out a breath that feels like a laugh. He turns his head, pressing a quick kiss against he side of your head. "You're a natural."
You grin, moving your head to rest against his arm. Maybe that wasn't that weird--not for Felix. You know for a fact he's done a lot more with girls he considers friends. "I'm tired."
"Tired you out?" You can hear the grin in his voice, which forces you to keep your lips pressed together to keep from laughing. In protest of his smugness, you start to attempt to slip his fingers out of his grasp. He squeezes your fingers in an attempt to hold you in place. "Sto--stop. I was kidding." You still, lifting your head enough to look up at him. He watches you with eyes to plead for you to believe his innocence. "Kidding."
"I don't believe you, but I'm too tired to argue."
"Wow," he whispers, pulling your hand towards his lap, "That is tired."
Felix bends and straightens your fingers. "What's even more tired is that I'm letting that go too."
Ignoring your attempt at snark, he lifts your hand to kiss the back of your palm. "Then I guess we have to go to bed, so that you'll be ready to argue in the morning."
You're still as he traces the lines of your palm. Despite wanting to go bed, you don't move. "Good idea."
He sets your hand down before carefully moving his arm away from you. Felix expertly ignores the dirty look you throw in his direction. "C'mon, bed, Lovie."
With a sigh, you nod, pulling your legs forward to crawl beneath his sheets.
----
taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny @lilyrachelcassidy @khxna @imbabycowboy
#felix catton x reader#felix catton#bestfriend!felix#bestfriend!felix x reader#saltburn x reader#jacob elordi#jacob elordi x reader
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꒰ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 ꒱ 沈泉锐
summary : you got a new chapstick for your boyfriend to try
genre : suggestive, fluff, ricky x gn!reader, drabble, established relationship
tws : kissing asf, pet names, suggestive
author notes : was thinking about this while showering lmfao
word count : 0.2k
“ricky,” you said as you approached the man sat peacefully against the soft plush of the sofa. you stopped in front of him, ricky letting his phone fall down to his lap. as he looked up at you, you continued, “i bought a new chapstick.”
“that’s nice, baby. what kind?”
you smiled innocently, feeling his hands trail over your thighs and pulling to get you to come down onto him — just as he liked — the closeness was comforting.
“guess!”
he rolled his cat-eyes at you, smirking as you got comfortable. you closed your eyes and puckered your lips, awaiting his kiss. his quickly pressed to yours before pulling away. you watched as he licked over them briefly, throwing out his guess, "strawberry?"
you shook your head, "try again!" you suggested, taking the reins and grabbing his cheeks to pull his face back to yours. your lips connected almost as if they were never apart. you found it silly how well you two could fit together, moving with perfect precision and team work. his hand moved up your arm, ghosting around the base of your jaw to keep you steady. his other hand rested on your hip, squeezing the skin gently. he detached momentarily, moving down your face, jaw and neck — which was being forced to the side by that perfectly placed hand.
your breath was heavy, stomach in knots, skin left with a yearning every time he'd move on. he was against your collarbone when you finally mumbled out his name, earning a hum in response as he never stopped his ministrations, leaving glistening marks in his wake.
"i d-don’t have any chapstick on."
reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!
#kpop#kpop requests#kpop writing#kpop imagines#kpop oneshots#kpopidol#kpop bg#romance#kpop fluff#zb1 x reader#zb1#zb1 drabbles#zb1 headcanons#zb1 imagines#zb1 ricky#zerobaseone#shim ricky#ricky#zerobaseone x reader#zerobase1#back to zerobase#zerobaseone fluff#zerobaseone smut#zerobaseone imagines
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WHEN I SAW YOUR REQS ARE OPEN, I GOT A LIL BIT EXITED EHUEHUE. Imagine beign shidou's HOT AF gf and shidou keeps talking about you too sae about having threesome and sae be like "i dont belive you have a pretty gf" and when he saw u, he went like "deal." IT CAN BE DRABBLE OR JUST HEADCANONS OF RELATIONSHIP WITH THEM ETC. IDK AND IGNORE IF YOU DONT WANT TO. love you bbg 😈🔥🗣💯
You know I could write something better for this but I'm having a hard time right now, so I'm gonna keep it in my head, who knows, maybe someday that smut comes out. Now LETS GOOOO BABES <3
Honestly, Shidou probably has pestered Sae so much that at this point he doesn't even listen to what the guy has to say
So, when the pink haired freak gives Sae a break the man can barely understand why this miracle happened, but he is happy anyway
Soon he learns Shidou got a girlfriend, and he supposes this is gonna be the end of it, he's gonna be free
But it doesn't last, and not very long after the miracle happens, it ends, except this time Shidou pulls up with a different talk
At any chance, Shidou tries to tell Sae about you, and about how fucking hot you are, not that Sae is big on listening, but he keeps on getting cornered
Sae had almost gotten used to Shidou flirting with him left and right, but now it was different, now Shidou was openly coming onto Sae offering a threesome with his "unbelievably hot 1000 out of 10" girlfriend
Not that Sae believed Shidou's talk about how ridiculously hot his girlfriend was
Shidou tried, god knows he did, pulling up his phone to show Sae a picture but the man kept his icy stare and walked away every time, refusing to look, or to believe in Shidou's words
That is until a club event came around, where Shidou brought you, his obviously, stupidly hot girlfriend, and when Sae laid eyes on you, Shidou could see the cool mask break
It would be easy for Shidou to just approach Sae with you but he knows this could throw the man off, so he only approaches when you separate for a moment, and when he comes back to you the outcome is obvious in his face
From there it's just a few days before the three of you are in bed together, you sandwiched between two very different men
It's a stark contrast, Sae and his methodical, cool and collected domming style, and Shidou who is chaotic, loud, and even kinda sadomasochistic
They can both go for multiple rounds, and it's good that Shidou is a switch, cause Sae isn't switching, so when on one round the two are fighting for dominance - or on some occasions cooperating - on the other Shidou is happy to let Sae just take the reins
They are both very skilled, tho, and when they work together, they are a menace, very quick to drive you crazy
You'll end up dead tired, mindless from all the pleasure, and with more than a few marks on your body
It's an experience, for sure, but a good one tho, and maybe it could be more in the future, who knows?
sponsors: @tinnaagine @loser-vxbez @kiurona @bentolover @bevernats @weirdbutpr3tty @ada7201 @vollereix @rinitosh @kum1ko-chan @romanticizemai @oneandonlykuronacuddler @borisbq @priv-rose @qichun
#ryusei shido x reader#shidou ryusei x reader#ryusei shidou x reader#itoshi sae x reader#bllk x reader#blue lock x reader
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my head is empty, only jason atm so let's do this (i apologize for rambling in your ask box but the drabble i reblogged from you about riding jason has me WEAK and i just have to add):
i'm thinking about the first time having sex with jason. the both of you are more than best friends but not official yet, because our boy is feeling a bit self-conscious and self-deprecating ("you can do better," he says — no, shush you're perfect).
he trusts you so much but he's so, so nervous. he thinks it's stupid. he's died, decapitated crime lords, formed a team of people who could kill him if they wanted to, yet he gets hesitant with every kiss to your cheek, hand on your back (because the last thing he'd rather die than do is to lose one of the best things he's got working out for him). so, he let's you take the reins.
he gets so red, it's so cute. he's so needy for you — chasing your lips when you move to kiss another part of him, thursting into your hand when you stroke him so, so well, and letting you ride his face because he's been thinking about the feeling of suffocating between your thighs for so long.
jason gets a bit lightheaded at the though of finally knowing what it feels to be inside you. but he's still insecure — he's a big dude and he still doesn't trust himself fully to tower over you. so, like what you've been doing for most of the night, you take your place on his lap. and ride.
(only a minute in and he finishes. he didn't mean to but you just felt so good. you kiss his cheek and whisper, "no worries." he'll make it up to you; he always has)
for reference: x
ripping my fingernails off and taking a scissor to my hair. FRIENDS 2 LOVERS JASON TRUTHERRRRRRRR !! ughhhhhh "you can do better" is such a jason thing to say which is so awful bc it's literally a lie, he's the best, most caring, most loving friend/lover one could ever have. he shows it through so many things and yet he's still so insecure about your love for him. you've gotta show him how much he means to you every night until he gets it, until he doesn't doubt it anymore.
user chocolate-churros, you've killed me. hope ur happy.
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Five months (?) ago…
Each crash of waves against the docks sent a fresh jolt of anxiety through his core, and yet Andrei forced himself to take step after step closer to his destination. Truthfully, the mere thought of being on a ship once more was nauseating to consider, and yet…
One more step. Another. The waves roared their warning. Another step.
He had to do this. The familiar, unfriendly faces roaming the halls of the monastery had increased, as of late, a neverending reminder of the reality he lived in. He’d once attempted to lull himself into believing there was peace for him in this land, an understanding with his family, in a land where duty did not bid him to make the choices he did.
How foolish. There was no escaping the past.
(He’d wanted to remain in the illusion.)
That was not the problem. The problem was – nails bit painfully into the flesh of his palms, until he shook himself out of the memory of Edain, weakened, lying against her cot, looking up at him with a fondness he should’ve lost claim to the moment that decision had ever entered his mind. He hadn’t dared ask what she would’ve chosen, if he hadn’t attempted to take the choice from her entirely. He had a feeling he knew what the answer would be.
Another mistake, false heir.
Andrei reached the docks, legs steering defiantly towards the ship bound for his destination even as every exhale through gritted teeth became painful. Here he was, attempting to fix a mistake. Returning to the place he had come from. A feat that, if the word of so many he’d spoken to could be trusted, was entirely possible, even with the obviously different circumstances that had brought each of them here.
He wasn’t certain what year he would be returning to. Asking would get him nowhere, and… if he didn’t know, then perhaps he’d allow himself to hope that he could truly get that chance. If, by some divine will, he could travel against the flow of time, perhaps he could rectify at least one single mistake in his life. Even just one, among countless.
(Lady Sister. Father. Yngvi.)
And even if he could not… even if all he’d managed was to be thrown into the future, the one from whence Patricia came…
There was at least one he’d failed in that time too, was there not? One without a mark, born and discarded in the foolish pursuit of some proof of his worth.
He could attempt to fix that mistake as well.
The plank leading to the ship creaked and swayed in the breeze, enough to hide the tremble in Andrei’s steps.
Focus. This had to be done. He reached out for balance as he stepped onto the ship.
The world dissolved.
The point of no return
Pain, a familiar, haunting echo, descended upon him the moment he opened his eyes. A dark sky above, no moon or stars in sight. His heartbeat was slowing, each thrum accompanied by the distinctly unpleasant feeling of his lifeblood leaking into the earth below.
Movement, at the edge of his vision, and then, a face –
Ah.
His eyes slip shut, life escaping too fast for surprise to register.
…Or perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. He didn’t deserve a second chance, anyway.
(Though. He’d forgotten the expression on Brigid’s face when she’d looked upon his dying form. At least, at least, he’d been able to see it again.)
Then, nothing.
Present day
Nothing, except the feeling of resignation as Andrei’s eyes open to the now-familiar landscape, at the foot of the path leading towards the monastery looming in the distance. Of course.
There is no turning back time, nor rectifying his mistakes. To believe otherwise is merely a fool's wish.
(He still wanted–)
A trembling hand finds its grip around polished wood – Andrei looks down. His Brave Bow. It hadn't been with him last time, the thought dimly registers in his mind. His wounds don't hurt nearly as much either.
Blessings, perhaps, or just another grim reminder. That there is no other place for him, anymore.
He takes a step, then another.
A return, to where he belongs.
#➵ taking the reins (drabble)#local bow man returns! i immediately gift him with a bad time#only the best for my boy ofc#this is read like something of a fever dream#for context my ic reasoning for his departure is guilt over the horrible choice he made during kke so thank u prof python#for making him see reason (???) and make better choices (no)
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VOID!Stiles Drabble
Main Masterlist
He watched her, from outside the window, the wet hair glued to her naked back, the white towel hugging her frame, some droplets of water ran down the vale of her breasts, disappearing between the fluff fabric around her.
“Leave her alone.” The voice in the corner of his mind spoke and he shook his head, smirking as he slowly got down from the tree that gave him the vision of her window on the second floor of the brown house.
He slowly made his way to the front door, his pale knuckles hitting the wooden door, her mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway, which meant she was alone in the house, the way he wanted her. He could hear her light footsteps and see the light being turned on from under the door.
“Oh hi Stiles, didn’t expect to see you here today.” She slightly jumped, stepping to the side to allow him to enter her house, his leg was brutally pulled back, as the weak boy used all his strength in a foolish attempt to stop him, she rose an eyebrow but he pushed the boy behind, taking the reins once more.
“Scott canceled, he was busy. Thought that maybe you wanted company.” She smiled at him, poor prey, having no clue that standing awkwardly in her living room wasn’t the best friend she knew, but something way more dangerous to be around.
His eyes scanned around as he followed her silently to the kitchen, where she fetched a slice of pizza, offering him some, he shook his head in denial, he would be fed in a different way.
“You smell delicious.” He said, getting closer, his cold fingers pulled her hair to the side, while he slid the tip of his nose along her neck, seeing her swallow harshly, he could smell the tension, he noticed that she had feelings for Stiles ever since he took his body.
She turned to him, her cheeks red and her chest moved up and down, as she tried to steady her breath.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“What I should’ve done a long time ago.” His lips crashed against her sweet ones, tongues battling together as he explored her mouth, Stiles tried to look away, but with the way she moaned against his lips, he didn’t dare to avert his gaze from her, feeling the misery of not being able to control his own body fill every pore of his skin.
He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her up until she was sitting on the countertop, he could sense the way she blushed, the build-up frustration from years of longing for this very moment filled his stomach, feeding him more than he imagined it was possible.
Her phone rang somewhere, but she ignored it, too lost in the taste of his lips to care, but when it rang for the third time she gently pushed him away, mumbling that it could be her mother.
“Hello?” She picked up, without seeing the name on the screen.
“Where are you?” Scott demanded. “The void took over again and Stiles is missing.” Her whole body started to shake in fear as she headed to the kitchen again, to find it empty, as he had never been there in the first place.
#i'm in my stiles era again#teen wolf stiles#teen wolf#void stiles#stiles stilinski#stiles x y/n#void stiles x reader
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drabble 3: i can change everything about me to fit in (ft. simon ghost riley & gn!reader)
mirrorball: someone who displays different versions of themselves to different people.
simon "ghost" riley is the one who notices it first. it's subtle, and were he any slower he wouldn't be any wiser.
simon "ghost" riley sees how you adapt yourself to different people. when with price, you are docile and reined in in an image of discipline and respect. when with soap, you are laughing a little too loud and always going along with his jokes—even if you end up taking the brunt of the punishment a gruntled price meets out. when with gaz, you crack jokes at the expense of your dignity to appear smooth and suave, even if your ego is bruised by the end of the night.
simon "ghost" riley sees how you are the perfect image of a good soldier before him. loyal, unquestioning and quiet. almost as if he were a drill sergeant snuffing out the streaks of rebellion in new recruits. he has his suspicions; nobody can be so perfect and he starts poking holes into the facade he suspects you wear.
simon "ghost" riley keeps a close eye on you when he makes unreasonable commands. fetch the water station in one go, being in full battle order when the rest of the men are in singlets and shorts. the grimace hugging your face never once breaks your demeanour and it irritates him.
simon "ghost" riley notices how you never fight back against his commands. never once have you voiced up against his judgement, even if he wants you to. he knows the feeling well too, coming from a hard home life. so he leaves you alone for a period of time and you secretly breathe a sigh of relief when he goes back to being his quiet self.
simon "ghost" riley decides to test out his theory at the weekly game night sessions. gaz makes a funny joke about how military men can't hold down relationships for the life of them and you blurt out how it's real when your ex cheated on you with someone else. a joke, to the bystanders and they laugh, but he doesnt.
simon "ghost" riley asks if it is actually funny to be cheated on. the mood shifts instantly, and a frown creases your face. you tell him it's a funny joke and he resists the urge to say something biting. he settles on saying it's a joke made in poor taste and you can't bear to look at the people around you. they stare, as is the norm whenever the lieutenant speaks. shame is evident even as gaz looks between you and him worriedly.
simon "ghost" riley finds you at the laundry room when game night ends without its usual cheery mood. the music is soft and here, there's no smile on your face. all that's left is a surly look on your face as clothes are folded in a pile. he announces his presence with a cough and you look at him. that darn fake smile is back on your face when you greet him.
simon "ghost" riley is content to sit on one of the chairs while you did your laundry.
"Yer know, it's in poor judgement to make a joke at your expense. Apologies for that."
You set the shirt down and look at him. What was he trying to do?
"It's also in poor judgement to put on a front, soldier," he finishes without looking at you.
The silence in the room is deafening and you stand still, like a giant idiot.
"What? I beg your pardon, sir?"
"Can't make everyone like you. Ain't no point in trying for that, either."
"I'm not—" His stare catches you off guard. There's a warning to not finish that sentence. You are content to let the atmosphere settle before you mumble, "It doesn't hurt anyone. What I'm doing."
He snorts and you feel irritation line your shoulders. "It doesn't hurt anyone? It hurts you."
"It hurts you the most, so stop this farce."
"I just want people to accept me."
"Then be yourself and let them. It's a waste of time trying to chase for approval."
"What if they don't?"
"Then they don't. Yer still have people who'll accept you, so why bother?"
The laundry is complete and there is no use delaying it even further.
"Don't pull that crap again. Last warning, soldier." And he disappears from the night.
"Don't stop and you'll lose someone who believes in you."
simon "ghost" riley notices the differences a week later. and when you notice him, you give him a smile—a real one. He gaze lingers and he nods curtly before he disappears from the rec room.
simon "ghost" riley knows what it's like to chase for validation from a parental figure. he won't subject you to it, and you've always had a supporter in him. ever since day one.
simon "ghost" riley likes you better this way, when you aren't chasing for validation. since that's when you shine and he's glad to be the source of it.
Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist
for my lovely beta reader @arisonlyfans
#gk's drabbles#fanfic#cod x reader#cod mw2#x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#cod#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost fanfiction#simon riley x you#reader insert#ghost x gn reader#ghost x gender neutral reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#call of duty
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Grand Line Playgroup
Masterlist Here
Word Count: 1,200+
Synopsis: Adoptive parents have all taken the initiative to join together with their children to form: Grand Line Playgroup. This is the way it usually goes at playgroup: filled with shenanigans, support, and most importantly love for their children.
Themes: the adoptive parents of one piece, all children are all relatively aged 3 to 7, but Robin is 10, au they all live, modern au, platonic, not an “x reader” fic, parenting drabble, fluff, nonsense.
Parents: Mihawk, Rosinante (Corazon), Bellemere, Dadan, Zeff, Uncle Beckman, Shanks, Garp, and Smoker.
Children: Perona, Zoro, Law(rence), Nojiko, Nami, Uta, Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Sanji, Uta, Koby, Helmeppo, Robin, and Tashigi.
Notes: A small drabble about what it would be like if the one-piece characters were adoptive parents to an assortment of their toddler counterparts. This silly brain-worm was brought to you by several conversations with @feral-artistry & @writingmysanity, and the bestest aunties @since-im-already-here & @sordidmusings. This worm got to me and I needed to get it out.
Tag List: @mfreedomstuff, @gingernut1314, @vespidphoenix, @i-am-vita
Dracule Mihawk arrives at Grand Line Playgroup ten minutes early every single Tuesday. He has a personalized gothic embroidered bag for both of his children filled with snacks, changes of clothes, water bottles, first aid kits, and a book for him to read while his two children play.
The next to arrive is Donquixote Rosinante. He always attempts to get there early: set up his variety of bags to ensure his son, Lawrence, has everything he needs to enjoy his time at playgroup. His hair is a blonde, fluffy mess of mopped curls, his clothes disheveled and askew, but his smile is always cheerful despite his constant exhausted exasperated state.
He wears matching nail polish with his daughter, Perona: today, she chose pink with black accents. He has parenting down to a fine art, everything always perfectly planned for any circumstances. Zoro takes out a collection of sporting equipment and begins kicking around a soccer ball as he waits for his friends to join him.
Law is a quiet child, not really engaging with Perona as she sets up a mock tea-party, nor Zoro as he kicks the ball against the wall. He, instead, opts to sit quietly alone and read a picture book in comfortable silence.
Mihawk offers Rosinante a moist towelette, gesturing wordlessly to his lips, cheeks and right eye where Law graffitied art with permanent marker on his face as he slept. Rosinante gives him a gratuitous smile, huffing his laughter as he scrubs at his face with the towelette.
The next to arrive is Rosinante’s old work colleague, Bellemere, with her two daughters in tow. Nami and Nojiko were walking arm in arm before rushing off to join Perona in her tea party. Bellemere gives Rosinante a clap on his shoulder, nodding her acknowledgement to Mihawk before taking her elected seat.
As the clock ticks over to 10am: a small bundle of nervous, chaotic energy bounces inside the door and over the walls. This flash of black hair was followed immediately by a small blonde child that stares, unblinkingly, at Law. Dadan is exasperated as she carries an older and asleep Ace in her arms, attempting to catch up with Luffy to rein him in and set up.
As if on queue, Ace wakes up and immediately springs out of Dadan’s arms, hurrying over to Zoro and joining him by kicking the ball against the wall. Sabo backs into the corner of the room and glares with his pale, blue eyes at Perona’s tea-party with intrigue.
Rosinante springs into action, offering to ferry Luffy towards his regular playmate, Zoro. As Luffy nearly joins Zoro, he is instead drawn to the sticker book Law is holding containing bugs, beetles and arachnids. Luffy becomes entranced by the stickers: and he and Law begin cataloging them by shape, size and type over pages of lined paper.
Dadan sighs, already exhausted although her day has barely begun. Rosinante smiles and fawns over the two dark-haired boys before resuming his seat beside Bellemere, talking about the latest gossip at his old workplace and the shenanigans his colleagues' love lives.
After Dadan, in comes Benn Beckman with his niece, Uta. Uta bounces on her heels as she runs over to Sabo, doing all in her power to make the small blonde smile instead of glare. She has a cheery disposition, guaranteed to always get a smile out of the quiet boy the longer she sings and pulls faces at him.
Zeff is the next, his young son, Sanji, sprinting towards the soccer ball and easily stealing it away from Zoro. They immediately get into a heated fistfight: legs and limbs flying as they butt heads as to who's turn it is to kick the ball next. Mihawk sighs, immediately rising to his feet to play referee to the match as Beckman places Uta's bag beside Perona's.
Arriving late, and with his two adoptive sons Koby and Helmeppo, strolls Garp. Dadan glares at him, up turning her lip in a snarl as Garp shepherds his boys into the room. The tension is thick between these two due to Garp's history of dropping off children at Dadan's and not returning to raise them himself. She refuses to help with the latest two additions to his family, although she cares for them greatly. Sabo nods at Koby, Helmeppo scoffs at Uta.
Another late arrival is a larger gentleman with his quiet and older daughter, Robin. Sir Crocodile is dripping in luxury brands, gold rings and smells of expensive colognes. Robin immediately humors Perona, Nami and Nojiko by playing mother in their tea party adventure.
“Mihawk,” the larger man gruffy nods in acknowledgement.
“Crocodile,” Mihawk mirrors his tone, gesturing with his chin to take a seat beside him. Sir Crocodile takes his seat before unrolling the newspaper tucked beneath his arm and beginning to read.
As the children interact together, the more talkative parents swap parenting advice amongst one another.
Rosinante asks for support with Law's current food aversion. How does he get this child to eat grained carbohydrates without him gagging about the fact it's bread? Dadan is a seasoned expert in parenting at this stage, still ignoring Garp as Garp speaks to Mihawk about his blonde son’s latest interest in kendo.
Bellemere joins in the conversation, Mihawk leaving as the topic changes to work and joining beside Beckman who is silently brooding on the chair beside Crocodile.
“No Shanks today?” Mihawk quips at the larger man.
“No Shanks today,” Beckman parrotted in return with a disgruntled and gruff growl.
As if the mere mention of his name summoned his presence, in comes the red-haired Shanks in a lazy and cheerful stupor. His socks are raised to his knees, tucked into some comfortable sandals on his feet. His cargo shorts are tied loosely on his hips by a brown belt, and his patterned shirt is open to expose his bare chest.
Glasses are lying lazily on his head as he extends an enthusiastic smile at the children before acknowledging the adults. An enthusiastic chorus of “Uncle Shanks!” echoes throughout the playspace, a flash of small bodies immediately moving to tackle and engulf the redhead in a warm embrace.
Shanks falls on his ass, holding high his coffee cup as he laughs at Luffy, Uta, Ace and Sabo as they enthusiastically clutch at him with grabby hands. Their faces all shine with the utmost adoration at the redhead, who shoots Beckman and Dadan a wink while mouthing: “I'm still the favorite.”
Beckman sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as Dadan rolls her eyes at him.
The adults are finally all gathered for their children’s weekly playgroup, the kids settle into playing amongst themselves once again. Shanks offers Beckman a smile before offering him the half-drunk coffee cup. The taller man takes a sip, choking on the liquid as the surprising burn of warmed alcohol scorches his throat so early in the morning.
As their meeting draws to a soft close, a knock at the door interrupts their close knit conversation.
“I heard there was a playgroup in here?” a gruff voice rumbled at the door. White hair and the scent of tobacco immediately sprung through the hallway. In arrived a large gentleman, another common associate of Garp, Bellemere and Rosinante who immediately sprung up to greet him.
Smoker presented ushered a quiet child into the room, her uncertainty was one the children knew well. Immediately, Luffy sprang up from his arachnid archiving with Law and went to introduce himself to the girl. Smoker smiled at the interaction, nodding to Tashigi as an indicator for her to go ahead and play, before joining Bellemere and Rosinante.
“Finally decided to foster, Smoker?” Bellemere smiled, embracing him into her warm and welcoming arms. Smoker returns her gesture, tapping her on the shoulder and releasing her from the embrace.
“Foster? Not a chance,” he smirked, pulling away and smiling at the purple-haired woman, “Adopting.”
#one piece#platonic fic#mihawk#zeff#smoker#bellemere#rosinante#shanks#beckman#dadan#garp#perona#zoro#sanji#luffy#ace#sabo#uta#robin#law#nojiko#nami#koby#helmeppo#tashigi#they all live au#modern au#parenting au
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Indebted - A Pero Tovar GIFLET
Uh, Jett, what the heck is a GIFLET?
Just a short 500 words or less drabble, based on inspiration that I got from a GIF. Simples.
Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)
Word Count: 500
Scoville Smut Rating: None, you're safe. Mentions/descriptions of hanging & death
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.
GIFLET MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
Enjoy! 🖤
This GIFLET was inspired by the below GIF 👇🏻
You don't recognise him at first when they bring the prisoners out.
His hair is much longer now with scraggly, knotted curls. A full beard has grown, his face dirty under it. But it’s unmistakably him.
You'd know that miserable bastardo anywhere.
They line them up in front of the gallows, the ropes slipped around their necks. You silently nod at the marksmen, spreading out around you from your covert position, all taking aim with their bows.
You aim yours as they drop; his body wriggles around desperately choking and turning blue.
Then, he falls to the floor with an ungraceful thud, as your arrow cuts through the noose; the chaos ensues as guards are shot with arrows and fall quickly as you all advance.
You scramble towards him, taking out two guards along the way. If only he were looking in your direction he would be proud. But then you remember that this is Tovar. He would find something to criticise about your skill.
You reach him as he gasps, looking up at you frantically and wheezing.
“You like to cut it fine, eh?” He splutters with a dark frown.
"Not even a smile for me, Tovar? I would say I’m offended, but I know better."
"Get me out of this shitting place and I'll give you whatever you want." He growls, as you cut through the rope around his filthy wrists.
"It almost sounds like you’ve missed me."
He snorts, rolling his eyes. "Never be indebted to a woman. You won't hear the last of it," he says to the prisoner next to him, who is unfortunately dead - an arrow right through the eye. "Lucky for you, hermano." Tovar mutters.
He glares up at you and you smirk, holding out your hand. He doesn’t take it.
You hand him his sword once he's on his feet, and he immediately dives in, cutting up guards running at you both, swinging the blade like he’s not been without it for months.
He grabs your hand and drags you towards a horse when more stream out through the chaos, seemingly out of nowhere; your numbers dwindling.
There's a silent kerfuffle between you as you mount it first, and he reluctantly gets on behind you.
"Ride fast." Tovar mutters, noting the guards herding towards you both, getting closer.
"I know how to ride!" You gripe as you pick up the reins. "Or did you forget that already?"
"I forget nothing..." He rolls his dark eyes again with a pout. You feel his grubby, cold hands around your waist and he squeezes, a morsel of affection offered. "You show me again later, eh?"
"Once you've had a bath. You fucking stink.”
You don't see it, but he subtly sniffs at himself with a sharp frown.
“I’m only getting in that bath if you're in it with me.” He grunts, lips pressed to your ear.
“Knew you missed me. Hyar! Hyar!" You grin, as the horse bolts forward, dust kicking up behind you both.
🖤
#pedro pascal x reader#pero tovar x reader#pedro pascal#pero tovar#pedro pascal characters#pero tovar x f!reader#pero tovar giflet#jett's writing#jett's giflets
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ANGELS WEPT.
warnings: tlou2 ellie williams x fem/gen! reader. reader dies instead of joel! no use of ‘y/n’. hurt with basically no comfort. lmk if i forgot anything!!
may also be good for this ask : i live for angst so can you please write an ellie x fem!reader and make it as angsty as possible like no comfort 😇🙏🙏 -anon
this was originally just a guilty pleasure drabble so i’ll still do another for that ask specifically.
even though i’m ridiculously proud of this, i’m very very sorry for the emotional turmoil you’re going to experience. should i do a part 2 for this?
part 1.5 , part 2 , part 2.5
“baby please get up!” ellie’s voice vibrated around the room as she sobbed, looking for any sign you were gonna move. her body resisting and thrashing under the people restraining her.
her eyes flip from the two people talking over your body and your bloody swollen face. you were still so pretty to her, even in your current state.
“i’m gonna fucking k-kill all of you.” she fights against the people holding her down. her feet kicking against the floor but the people restricting her don’t budge.
“she doesn’t deserve this. please.” ellie begs, sobs becoming more prominent as the girl, the one seemingly leading the abuse, lifts up the golf club again. “s-she’s 18!! and she still cries when she sees clickers. i promise you have the wrong person.”
“baby fuckin’- get up!” she directs her yelling back to you once she sees the girl hesitate with the metal above her head. she tries her best to get from the ground, to come save you.
when the club came down once more, the scream that left ellie was gut-wrenching. the people around her flinched, birds flew from miles around, angels wept.
the girl comes and stands over her now, “tell joel he’s fucking next.” she mutters before turning around, her dirty blonde braid moving with her. that was the last thing she heard apart from her shaky sobs before everything went dark.
——————
when she awakes again, she’s surrounded by silence. it’s almost peaceful and she doesn’t remember what happened until her eyes lock on your still figure.
“no- no no no.” she scrambles toward you, wincing when there’s a particularly strong thump in her skull.
“baby? you’re okay,” she gently pulls you into her arms, not even bothering to check your pulse out of fear that it may not be there. “i’m so sorry, so so sorry.”
she gives herself a second to let the tears temporarily tattoo their trails on her flushed cheeks before standing and hustling you up into her arms. her heart cracks even more when she doesn’t feel your body twitch, or curl into her like it does when she’s carrying you to bed after a long day.
it takes her a few minutes to get you up and onto shimmer but when she gets you both up there, she does her best to wrap your limp arms around her. kissing your bloody forehead before whipping the reins with a certain determination.
——————
“fucking- open them!!” ellie yells as she comes up on the gates, her voice trembling and weak.
once the gates open, she rides shimmer into town before dropping down off of her, still holding you bridal style in her arms. “help me!!”
her voice is full of agony, heartbreak. at first it’s a few people peeping out of windows, then eventually coming out into the street. joel steps out a second later, recognizing the broken sound of ellie’s voice and assuming the worst.
at the sight of her father figure she immediately bursts into tears, dropping to her knees.“joel- they- i can’t-“
she hyperventilates as she holds your body close to her chest. the cold snow making the knees of her denim jeans damp. “she needs help, they-“
ellie’s sobs consume her completely, ears drowning in white noise. she doesn’t notice the group surrounding her until maria places a hand on her shoulder.
“we have to see if- if she’s alive el.” she says gently. ellie hesitates before gently laying you on the snow-covered ground, she’s never prayed before but as the medics fingers come up to your neck she prays to every single god she’s ever heard of.
she prays for your heart to still beat, for your recovery, for her girl to still be with her. the medic shakes their head softly after a few seconds, a solemn expression on their face.
ellie’s once shallow sniffles turn into screams of denial, to rapid breaths, to using her shaking hands to pull you back into her arms.
“this isn’t real. this isn’t real. you’re- you’re fucking wrong!” she screams in the medics general direction. not noticing how people start to disperse once the seriousness of the situation is realized.
“my girl, my sweet girl…” she whispers against your temple. they say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes. but her heart is still a steady thump when her life comes whirling around her in gentle smiles, belly laughs, and light-hearted teasing.
she thinks about how you’d greet her with tired smiles after a long day of patrol. she thinks of how it felt to wrap her arms around you from behind as you made a meal. she thinks of your bright eyes, your timid smiles that were reserved only for her.
she thinks of how she’ll never be able to experience it again. how she never gets to hear you call her ‘els’ or ‘my love’ anymore. how she will never experience a love like this one ever again in her life.
“the main girl said ‘tell joel he’s fucking next.’” she’s quiet for a few seconds after releasing this information until she looks up at him with a menacing glare.
“i don’t know what the fuck you did- or who the fuck you killed. but i lost my- my future wife over it. fucking fix it joel.”
#mimi writes! ꕥ#mimis drabbles! ❆#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#the last of us#ellie williams fic#tlou2#joel and ellie#tlou#ellie williams x fem!reader#tlou hbo#tlou spoilers#sad tlou#hurt no comfort#ellie williams angst#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams drabble#bella ramsey#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie williams x you#pedro pascal#tlou series#ellie williams fluff#ANGELSWEPT
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god reader telling fyodor that ranpo will beat his ass any day now i wanna make him sob and wail
quick drabble here non!!! pls excuse the poor editing im exhausted :<<
note: fyodor calls reader 'my lord'
"you have to stop pursuing the detective agency," you've practiced these words in your head, realizing the only way to gain control of your situation was by playing into the role you were assigned, taking the reins that fyodor had offered, "i will make sure that they won't stand in our way."
fyodor freezes, but not in the usual manner when you could tell it was because he was mesmerized by what he called your divine light—this was out of something akin to shock. you had never called out to him on your own accord, never spoken while he kneeled in his daily prayers, but it was fruitless to keep it that way any longer.
"if that is what you wish…" he pauses, an uneasy sensation filling the room, "forgive me, my lord, but may i know why?"
for a moment, anger flashes in you. you think of all you've lost because of his foolish beliefs and your rage boils—is this what he kept you here for, calling you a god—his god? was it only to use you as an excuse? if he truly believed in his own claims, why would you have to explain anything?
wasn't he the one who should be apologizing?
"i do not mean to question your judgement," he says, unsettled by your silence, "it's…you have never shown any interest in those who have been sacrificed for you, my lord. i was merely…curious."
for once, he sounds unsure of himself, and you feel a twisted sense of satisfaction in watching him squirm. deep down, you wonder if he's won already seeing how easily you've been taking to the role he thrust upon you.
"why should i have to explain myself to you?"
his eyes widen, though your voice was not any louder than it had been all along. maybe it was the unfamiliar tinge of anger in your tone, the way you uttered the words like it was the most obvious thing in the world—like he was the fool for daring to question you.
"forgive my foolishness," he whispers, "your humble servant is forever in need of your guidance and wisdom."
"you cannot compare to the detective," you finally say, hoping he'll finally accept your decision, "he will destroy all you've worked for if you pursue them any longer."
something akin to betrayal shines in fyodor's eyes, "…the one without an ability?"
"he does not need an ability to surpass you. all he needs is a reason," you glare at the crouched figure, "one you've already started to give with your reckless actions. leave him be. i will see to it that your actions will not hinder us any longer."
fyodor's head hangs low, lower than before, out of what you suspect is shame and distress.
"forgive me," he echoes softly, "forgive my insolence. you are all-knowing, and i only wished to be of use to you, to become someone worthy of your grace. my impertinent suggestions have burdened you. i only pray that you will show me mercy, and continue to guide your foolish servant."
he again lowers himself in whispered prayer, and you tell yourself to look away. to know that he was undeserving of even the slightest acknowledgment would serve as the greatest punishment.
#yandere bungou stray dogs#yandere bsd#yandere bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs ff#fyodor x reader#fyodor dostoyevsky x reader#god reader 🐟#fyodor x god reader#bsd x reader#bsd x you#ask 🐟#anon 🐟#drabble 🐟#bsd 🐟#fyodor 🐟
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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭
Fae folk had lived on this land since time immemorial, but for all the time you had lived in your little nook of the woodland, you had only seen one man brave the trail. And for his kindness to all who lay in his path, creature and legend alike, you wanted to give the hunter a gift.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈
⇁ Viking!Bucky Barnes x Fae!Reader
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕
⇁ 500
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔
⇁ Fluff
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆
⇁ I loved writing this.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎
⇁ Algir — Tognatale by Warduna
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕
⇁ @the-slumberparty One Word Drabble
— Masterlist
𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 ⇁ 𝒂 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐨𝐠𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
The Viking had unknowingly visited your home many times before, though it seemed he did not know, nor see you, watching from the protection of a bush.
Intricately braided dark hair adorned his head, woven amongst the ink decorating his scalp and neck - a warrior’s signet, you knew. Many men who had discovered your home bore the same intricacies, but never had you seen one like him.
The pelt of a bear covered his broad shoulders, while a flowing black cape covered the leather of his armour. Your people had been forbidden to interact with such men many, many centuries ago, you knew this, but it did nothing to abate the temptation.
His mount, a fiery steed with four strong legs and a thick neck, snorted proudly as the man urged him towards your creek; the loud hoofbeats echoed on the rocks like claps of thunder.
“Easy, easy,” the man soothed. His voice sounded honeyed and rich. “Not long now, boy.”
The steed turned and stomped his hoof as the man dismounted swiftly, with grace and an elegance that you had seen only in fae folk. Bloodied pelts littered the steed’s back, as well as cuts of meat - no doubt the spoils of the man’s hunt to take back to his people.
You watched curiously when he neared a wide part of the creek, deep enough for rocks to litter the bed, as well as your gift; a pristine animal skull, white as ivory and bleached by the power of Sol.
The man knelt on to the grassy bank of the creek, and he paused suddenly. “What is this?”
A strong inked hand reached forward from the cloak and into the flowing water of the creek, retrieving your gift with intrigue. His eyes were as bright and blue as the sky, crisper than ice, as they roved over the skull.
You gasped quietly when his focus turned to his surroundings, his dark hair flowing from his shoulders as he peered around. “Thank you,” he said, loud enough for his voice to echo through the trees.
The steed snorted and knickered loudly, and your gaze flickered from the man’s face to his horse, only to see the horse staring right at you, its ears twitching back and forth.
“What is it, boy?” The man pondered, standing from the bank to soothe his steed. “We will be home soon.” You breathed a small sigh of relief as you watched the man gather the steed’s reins in his hand and mount up, but it was short lived, for the horse did not look away when the reins were pulled taut.
“Koma, boy,” the man insisted, scratching at the twitching ears of his horse. “What are you looking at?” He followed his horse’s gaze and found you, peering at him through a gap in the bush.
“Ah, there you are, little mouse. Thank you, for the gift,” he said softly.
At the Viking’s retreat, you couldn’t help but hope you would see him again.
⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁
⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁
#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x f!reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes drabble#viking bucky#fae reader#rookthorne's works#The Gift
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