#(it may not seem like it but it fucks with you)
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Sleep nonnie again. Is it okay if I go by 🦊🌲 its easier.
Anyways I think it would be a funny scenario if you suggest to the op boys to keep their hands warm by putting them between your thighs. I know some boys would just get a heart attack if you suggest that and get a cute blush
say whAT NOW?? NONNIE HELLO AND WELCOME BACK!! (dm me so that we can be friends ur fic ideas are so out of pocket i love it);
also, gonna add ace cause i see many ace thirsties out there ;)
let me warm you up ft. the monster trio//ace!
luffy:
💗when he agreed to this, he didn't know just what kind of uncharted territory he was entering. he was simply not prepared. you had given him such a soft smile, taking his hands into yours as gingerly, "luff, are you cold?"
he had nodded a mindless yes because you were crossing a terribly cold patch of the sea and his hands were freezing. but then held his hand a bit tighter and whispered, "i can warm them up for you. if you like?"
he was too drunk on the idea to see the mischievous glint in your eyes and the way you spurred him on with your honey-like voice.
💗so now, he sat in front of you, eyes blown wide and lips trembling as his hands rested between your plush thighs. you had squeezed your thighs shut around his restless hands, claiming that it'll get him warm in little to no time.
but god, this was hard (much like something else) and he was trying his best to keep his fingers still and not do anything hasty, like digging it into your soft flesh and relishing in the way your body molded to his touches. or by trailing his hand a bit upwards and seeing the way you react.
💗"luffy??" you called out and captain shook his head as he crawled out of that daze like state, "y-yeah?"
"you okay?" you mumbled, voice far too gentle. you fucking minx. "you seem like you're losing your mind."
good catch! because he was. luffy abruptly pulled his hands backwards lest he do something that truly made him lose his sanity. he scrambled off of your bed, heading out the door into the chilly deck in long, skitterish steps.
"where ya going?" you called after him but he rushed out, yelling after himself, "JUST GONNA WARM UP WITH USSOP INSTEAD BYE"
did ussop have better thighs than you? you may never know.
zoro:
💚zoro was very stupid, very. he was not the smartest tool in the shed when it came to love or crushes or dating or cooking food or social cues or emotional intelligence or— i should stop before this turns into zoro slander [i promise i love him].
but now, the bounty hunter sat with his face flushed and hands tucked between your soft, malleable thighs.
he was smarter than this, truly. he knew that when you suggested that he looked cold and you can warm him up, he was supposed to say "fuck no, get out." because having a crush on you was embarrassing enough on it's own. but you had given him such a gut-wrenching, pleading look. your eyes saddened and your lips fell into a pout and oh god, what was he, if not the man who would let you ruin him?
💚ever since he was a child, zoro had always known that he would die a noble swordman's death. he would die fighting, brave, courageous, unafraid. now, he was sure he'd die from the way you squirmed and pressed your thighs shut.
"quit movin'" he grunted, looking away from you as your stared at him. but you tucked your arms against your chest and the soft swell of your tits fell forward towards him so deliciously. he must have lost focus and let his gaze travel against your body cause you coughed, drawing his attention back to your face, "quit starin'."
he pulled his hands back, ears going red and heart faltering. he should really stop before he gave into the temptations and pinned you to the mattress to—
his voice pitched up, "i-i'm going back to my room, bye."
"zoro?!" you called after the swordsman as he ran out, "BUT THIS IS YOUR ROOM, WHERE ARE YOU GOING??"
[spoiler: he went to chopper and crushed herbs to make medicine. he wanted to get rid of some of that tension but he failed. because he put the pressure too hard and the china dish in which he was crushing the leafy herbs broke, and now chopper was hitting him square in his head, talking about how important it was to be precise in medicine and how zoro will never make a good doctor.
"stop hitting me— OW"
"what KIND OF A DOCTOR ARE YOU?"
"IM A SWORDSMAN!"
"YEAH CAUSE YOU CANNOT BE A DOCTOR!"]
sanji:
💙breath in, breathe out. breathe in, breathe out. breath in, breath out—
"sanji?" you asked, a tinge of worry at his almost fainting figure, "are you okay?!"
"my love, darling, sugar pie—" the man caught his tongue between his teeth, trying to stop his head from spinning. the floor seem to sway under him, the lights seemed too bright. was he flying or was it the blood rush?? "what did you just ask me?"
you look down at the kitchen floor, mumbling with a bashful smile, "if your hands are cold...i can warm them up."
his heart quickened as did his fingers. he chopped the bell pepper so hastily that you were sure you saw sparks flying. "and how would you do that?"
"you can keep them between my thighs, if you like?" you looked up, "OH MY GOD SANJI YOUR NOSE—"
💙i hate to cut the story short but sanji 100% fainted and you had to catch him before he fell face-forward into the pot with boiling water on the stove. sorry, he gets no bitches :(
but you did look after him on the bedside and let him eventually touch your thighs so... idk, a win is a win!!!
["so, is he like dead?" zoro had asked, uninterested, as you hauled the cook's figure outside the kitchen. you were dragging him to his room as the rest of the crew trailed you. they had heard your shriek and came spilling into the kitchen to see what the fuss was about.
"did you give him a hug?" nami asked, amused.
"hug's too much." ussop snickered, "she probably smiled at him."
sanji whipped his head dangerously to glare at them, "i can hear you. and i will be poisoning your food." he looked back at you, "oh don't you worry, im still fainted."
he closed his eyes, letting his forehead fall on your shoulder. you smiled to yourself, making a note to warm him up later]
ace:
🧡truthfully, how do you ask a man made of literal fire if you can "warm him up"???
you must have not thought you plan through because you had stood in his room a bit tipsy, locked the door behind you and asked a boy [who was always shirtless cause he was so warm] that question.
"huh?" ace's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. he stood up to walk towards you, "what is that about? you wanna warm me up?"
"NO!" you bit your cheek when you realized the implications of your words, "i was joking, obviously."
"awh, i do love when you humor me." he quipped, "it's kinda cute."
"shut up." you glared at him but he gave you an earnest smile back, "if you're cold, you could have just told me." he set his finger ablaze, acting suave, "see, i can warm you up."
"you wanna set me on fire?" you seethed.
"no?!"
"why did you light your fingers on fire?!"
"YOU ASKED A MAN MADE OF FIRE IF YOU CAN WARM HIM UP? DONT ASK ME QUESTIONS?!"
"i'm drunk" you mumbled. after a beat you looked down at the floor, "and... i'm kinda cold."
portagas d. ace just smiled, shrugging in mock nonchalance, "we can cuddle, if you like. i've been told i'm a pretty great heater."
you laughed, "hah, hotshot."
ace gave you a wicked grin, "how drunk are you?"
"not nearly enough."
just saying, portagas d ace was better than just a "pretty great heater." he was a pretty great fu-
a/n: i love writing stupid things so much. it makes me so happy because i'm a stupid little girl giggling and typing on her laptop when she should be doing work.
tagging the ever lovelies: @bokutosbiceps (resident luffy enjoyer) and @help-i-lost-my-sock (resident ace enjoyer). if you wanna be added to the tag list, please let me know (//tell me your preferences and i'd tag you in those fics)!
#anon: 🦊🌲#one piece#op#opla#roronoa zoro#vinsmoke sanji#monkey d luffy#one piece zoro#luffy x reader#zoro x reader#sanji x reader#zoro fluff#sanji fluff#luffy fluff#ace#one piece ace#portagas d. ace#ace fluff#one piece fluff#op fluff#ace x reader#one piece headcanons#one piece x reader
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-Spoilers for the short that just came out-
Helluva Boss short my beloved ❤️
Sallie May? Something more Millie centric? Completely female led! It was just so cool!
I love them touching on the fact that Millie moved far from home, and how that impacts their relationship. Being the oldest two they had to do so much together and then when Millie finally left to live her own life they didn’t see each other as much. I like how we can see how Sallie is clearly uncomfortable with the new setting at first, but trying to be there for her. And then the ending? Where we hear her talk about how OF COURSE Millie wouldn’t want to return to Wrath, and how different her life is now…
It hurted. I’m an older sibling who recently moved states away for university, and I haven’t been in touch with my brother much. I know he’s felt some of the same things Sally has talked about this episode, and like Millie my life is so busy. But I can still make time to connect.
This touched on such real dynamics siblings have. Them having a real conversation and the immediately beating eachother up? 😂
Other highlights:
-ACTUAL FUCKING HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS AND COMMUNICATION
-Them beating up that sleaze at the bar and then the bartender giving them drinks as a reward of sorts
-The fact Sallie May being trans is something that just IS
-The fact it seems no other character other than these two had a speaking line, really hitting the point of this being about them and their relationship. Them away from everything else.
-The lack of focus around the male main characters, they were brought up in relation to Millie’s life, sure. But it wasn’t about them.
-Ending with Moxxie just seeing them on the couch together and going to his room, because again this really was just a short dedicated to Millie and Sallie. He’s an important part of Millie’s life, sure, but not the ONLY part.
I really want to see more of this in the main show!! Please can we not just keep Millie characterization to the shorts? Please and thank you! I love them and want to see them so much more!
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personal
pairing: frank castle x fem!reader
summary: lately frank has been acting suspicious, and you've decided to finally confront him about it.
warnings: swearing, lots of angst
word count: 3.4k
a/n: i hope y'all have been enjoying things being nice & light & sexy & fun bc these last few chapters aren't holding back any punches. shit is about to get real. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!
[previous chapter] | [series masterlist]
Not even five minutes after Frank walked through the threshold of his apartment, the rumble of an incessant banging sounded on his front door. His dark brows instantly furrowed with irritation at the sound. Slipping his right hand behind his back to grab the handle of the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, he turned the knob and swung the door open with just as much ferocity as the person knocking on the other side.
The creases of annoyance on his sharp features suddenly smoothed into recognition at the sight of you standing in front of him, but not long after, his warm brown eyes widened in complete bewilderment seeing the raw fury that was burning in your eyes.
“Hey-”
Before he could utter another word, you forced your way inside his apartment, causing him to quickly retreat backwards, wincing when you swiftly slammed the front door shut behind yourself.
“You need to tell me what the fuck is going on with you, right now.”
Frank was utterly caught off guard by your aggressive behavior. The last time he had seen you this angry with him was when he showed up at your place after Cavella and Walker had attacked you. He was so distracted by your incensed entrance, he almost missed what you said. But when his brain finally caught up with his ears, your words only fueled his convoluted confusion.
“There nothin’ goin’ on-”
“Bullshit! Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Frank.”
“Sweetheart, I’m not lyin’-”
“You’ve lied to me three times in the past month.”
Creases of puzzlement settled between Frank’s thick brows hearing that. Had he really lied to you three times? He couldn’t even remember what he’d lied about, or how you caught onto the fact that he was. Frank admittedly had been a bit out of it when it came to you lately, but he wasn’t doing it on purpose to hurt you. He just happened to be caught in the middle of something he was trying to keep you as far away from as possible.
Taking his silence as evidence of guilt, you stared up into his eyes, wanting him to see the proof of grief in your reflection that his actions had caused. You wanted him to hear the severity in the words that lacerated your tongue as they slipped past your lips that had been bitten raw from your tortured anxiety.
“You never once lied to me before Frank, ever. I don’t know why you’re choosing to start now, but if I hear one more lie come out of your mouth, I am done. I will walk out that door and I will have nothing to do with you ever again, that's it. Do you hear me?”
That caught Frank’s attention. There was no waver in your voice, no threat in your tone, just raw emotion and sincerity.
For the past month, Frank had been acting strange. You’d caught him in three white lies, and while they may have seemed small and trivial to someone else, they were anything but that to you. Because you’d been stuck with a pathological liar before, and there was no such thing as harmless lies. A lie was a lie, and it was a crack in the foundation of trust and integrity that you’d built with Frank, and a crack could turn into a rift, and a rift could divide you and make it all come crumbling down.
Since yours and Frank’s schedules didn’t always line up, you’d both done everything you could to make every moment count since your first date. But lately, it felt like you were the only one putting in the effort. Frank was chronically distracted these last few weeks. He was late to meet you for dates, he didn’t call when he said he was going to, and sometimes you didn’t hear from him at all until the day was practically over. And when he was with you, Frank was physically present, but mentally he seemed to be somewhere you couldn’t follow. Even sitting right beside one another, it felt like there were oceans of distance separating you subconsciously.
At first, you’d tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was one little white lie. One missed call after a long day. Just fifteen minutes of waiting at the restaurant. This was Frank, the man who had saved your life more times than you could count. He was different. This was real. You had nothing to be concerned about.
But then one white lie turned to three, and one missed call turned into not hearing from him until an excuse appeared across your screen at half past midnight, and fifteen minutes late turned into not showing up at all. His behavior planted a seed of suspicion in your mind that grew like wild ivy, coveting the sense of security you had in him with leaves of doubt, sprouting spirals of diabolical hypotheticals that canvassed your brain with catastrophe.
Every knot of faith Frank had woven into your heart with his actions over the last nine months were steadily being unraveled by his own hand in a matter of weeks. The confidence you had in him was now frayed in shreds and left you in a fit of mania, scrutinizing his every intent under a microscope.
You had been here before. You’d been lied to, manipulated, cheated on, pushed to the brink of insanity, and eventually left behind. You recognized all the signs of duplicity and betrayal, but you’d covered your own eyes so you wouldn’t have to acknowledge them, because it was Frank.
Blunt-and-brutally-honest, jump-in-front-of-a-bullet, remembers-every-little-detail, got-his-knuckles-bloody-for-you, killed-for-you, Frank.
And that’s why this hurt so much. That’s why this dagger of deceit tore clean right through your chest, leaving you standing in the middle of Frank’s living room, hysterical and furious for an elixir of truth that could make this pain go away and heal your belief in him once again. He’d been so MIA lately that you had spent hours camped out in front of his apartment building tonight, waiting to see his truck pull up just so you could follow him inside and finally have this conversation face to face.
Frank could hear in your voice that he’d hurt you, and even worse, he could see the evidence of it shining in your eyes. The pieces of yourself you’d lent him to patch up his own heart were suddenly bleeding at the seams seeing how his unintentionally selfish preoccupation had left you marooned. Shame didn’t begin to cover the way he felt. He knew he needed to be honest, but he couldn’t tell you everything.
Not yet.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. But it ain’t what you think, sweetheart.”
“Then what is it? Explain it to me.”
Frank took a seat on the couch and gently patted the space next to him, looking up at you with diligent patience while you internally debated between standing stubbornly or giving into his request to sit with him. After a moment you finally sat down, but you intentionally put space between the two of you and folded your arms across your chest in a silent gesture of defensiveness. Resting his forearms on the tops of his thighs, Frank clasped his right hand over his left wrist, staring down at his worn boots while deciding his next words carefully.
“I got a new assignment.”
The quiet tone of Frank’s voice and the lack of eye contact while he spoke immediately caused a spark in your nervous system.
“Where?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Frank let a moment of silence pass before turning his head to look at you with an apologetic gleam in his warm brown eyes.
“I’ve been helpin’ Madani with somethin’.”
Pinching at the bridge of your nose, you let out a slow exhale of irritation. Frank had already strained your patience with his behavior this past month, and his obscure responses were only making it worse.
“Why are you being so secretive about this?”
“It’s complicated-”
“Complicated how? You didn’t have to hide the last job from me-”
“This one is different-”
“Different how? That doesn’t make any sense-”
“You gonna let me talk? Or you gonna keep yellin’ at me?”
The way you clenched your jaw and narrowed your gaze at his quip made Frank regret letting his own frustration get the best of him. You were already pissed off, now was not the time for him to snap back at you like he normally did when the two of you argued about something. A wave of annoyance quickly crested within you. The second you stood up from the couch, Frank’s large hand reached out to grab your wrist.
“Hey, c’mon. Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Walk away from this conversation-”
“What conversation, Frank? You’re not doing anything but giving me vague excuses. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
Frank gave your wrist a gentle tug to get you to sit back down next to him on the couch. He once again waited calmly as you stood defiantly for a moment before reluctantly sitting back down. He let his large hand glide across your wrist to take your hand into his own, holding it firmly in his lap while cocking his head to the side to try and catch your gaze.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
When he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, the prolonged pause of silence caused you to eventually shift your attention back to Frank, and you could see that his brown eyes were a deep shade of contrition.
“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been distracted lately, and I haven’t been ‘round like I shoulda been. And you’re right, I did lie to ya, and I’m sorry ‘bout that. I’m not tryin’ to keep things from ya, sweetheart. It’s just…this one is…it’s different.”
“Why? What makes this one so different that you have to lie to me about it?”
“It’s personal.”
Now it was your turn to be perplexed. You thought Frank was long past holding you at arms length and keeping up a fortified impenetrable steel wall around his heart and mind. He’d opened up to you before, talked about his life in the Marines, told you about the family he’d loved and lost, even spoke about them more comfortably and freely now without the shadow of grief looming over his words. Why was he back to shielding his vulnerability?
“Personal?”
Frank knew you wanted more of an explanation. You needed more. And he hated that he couldn’t give it to you right now. He hated that there was still so much that he was holding back from you, and that it was his own fault you were even doubting him in the first place.
“Listen, I can’t explain it right now, alright? But I will. When it’s all said and done, I’m…I’m gonna…I’ll have to tell ya some things first, some things you may not wanna hear and probably won’t like hearin’. But I promise, I’m gonna tell you everythin’, alright? I just need you to trust me right now.”
Every word Frank spoke hid another piece of the puzzle he was crafting, and you were left with misshapen gaps of confusion. You didn’t know what he meant by saying there were things he had to explain that you might not want to hear, or how that factored into the job he was currently working. Nothing he was saying made any sense to you, and it only left you with more crucial questions than justifiable answers. Pulling your hand away from his, you got up from the couch and started to stressfully pace back and forth.
“So the reason you’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately is because of this new assignment, that you can’t tell me anything about, other than it’s personal, but you can’t explain why that is. And it’s going to take you somewhere eventually, but you can’t tell me where, because you don’t even know yet, and even if you did, you still wouldn’t tell me. And I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that you have no idea how long this is going to last, but you expect me to sit here and act like everything is fine between us and trust you even though I have no fucking idea where you’re going or what you’re doing. Did I miss anything?”
Frank could hear the barely concealed hostility in your tone. He couldn’t combat a single thing you said. When you finally stopped pacing and turned to face him, staring at him expectantly, a ring of treachery was blazing around your irises. He could see it right then in your eyes. If he didn’t fix this, he would lose you.
Slowly rising from the couch, Frank stood there with a dispirited weight resting on his shoulders, a look of pleading softening his warm brown eyes.
“I’m gonna handle this as soon as I can, I promise.”
“I can’t do another month of this, Frank.”
“Then it won’t be another month. I’ll figure it out before then.”
“How?”
The resentment you felt towards Frank was rapidly fading into pure desperation. All you wanted was an answer, a real answer. Something of substance that you could understand, something tangible to hold onto during this period of uncertainty. Frank could feel the despair radiating off of you in thick sorrowful waves, and the fact that you were close to forfeiting this argument had him instantly tensing as the chill of dread straightened his spine. He had to give you something.
“Listen, Madani gave me some intel, alright? I’ve been followin’ it, tryin’ to find proof she’s right, or if she’s just seein’ what she wants to see.”
“But why did she give it to you? What can you do that Homeland Security can’t?”
Frank stared at you silently for a moment, and you could see a look of hesitation flash in his eyes. There was something there, something you couldn’t figure out. But you could tell by the expression on his face that there was a lot more to this than it being a top secret assignment from Homeland. Whatever it was, it had everything to do with Frank. You just couldn’t figure out why. After a terse minute of silence, Frank stood up a little straighter while subtly clenching his jaw, and there was a hardened look in his eyes.
“Cause it’s connected to someone I know.”
The way he spoke that sentence with an ominous undertone sent an icy torrent down your spine. Sensing your trepidation, Frank let out a deep sigh and glanced around his apartment for a moment while lost in thought before eventually looking at you again, this time with a softer gaze.
“Look, I can’t explain it all right now, sweetheart. All I can tell ya is that Madani needed someone she could trust on this, and I owe her a debt.”
Letting those words sink in, you tried to put your biased emotions aside for a moment and think logically about what Frank was saying. Dinah had asked him for a favor. Part of you found it surprising that she came to Frank and Billy, considering the way she acted towards Billy the day Steven was arrested. But maybe that look of distrust and disdain had everything to do with the complicated relationship they’d had that Billy mentioned.
If Frank was working for Dinah, then he was working for Homeland, which meant he probably didn’t have a choice but to keep everything from you. And yet, here he was still trying to give you crumbs of explanations, and promising to tell you everything once this new assignment was over. At least you could lay the fear to rest that he was seeing someone else. Standing here now, you felt ridiculous that you’d restlessly jumped to the conclusion of an illicit affair. But in your own defense, it had been difficult to think clearly when Frank’s covert behavior mirrored that of past boyfriends' unfaithful performances.
As your shoulders physically deflated from your own conspiracies unraveling just to get tangled in a new set of ambiguities, you let out a deep exhale and rubbed both of your palms tiredly down your face, grasping onto the back of your neck for a moment. When you first showed up at Frank’s apartment, you had felt completely warranted in your anger. Now, you weren’t sure if you had overreacted in your manic state, or if you still had a right to be upset with Frank. At this point, you just felt drained from trying to balance on that tightrope of your own conflicting emotions.
Frank had saved your life several times over, and Dinah personally made sure that Steven would spend the rest of his life in prison. You owed them both everything. The least you could do was show them a little patience.
“Alright. Fine.”
In the nine months that Frank had known you, never once had you conceded in an argument. Even when you were in the wrong, you struggled with admitting that you had been erroneous. Frank’s blood ran cold with the thought that he might have pushed you too far healing the casual defeat in your voice. He didn’t want you to give up on him like this. Frank quickly took a step towards you the second you took a step towards the door, reaching out to gently grab your arm.
“Hey, hey c’mon. Don’t go.”
“Frank, I’m tired-”
“Then stay. Just stay here, c’mon. It’s late, yeah? Stay.”
Frank wasn’t giving you any room to decline the offer disguised as a command. One of his strong arms slipped around your waist, pulling you firmly into his chest while his large hand gently cradled the back of your head. He pressed his lips in a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head, hugging onto you tightly while resting his cheek against the side of your head. The rigid tension in your body lethargically began to melt, and Frank’s deep gravelly voice whispering into your ear dismantled the last of your defensiveness.
“Just stay with me, baby. Please stay.”
Frank knew that he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t feel that he’d earned this second chance at life he was getting. But he would be damned if he’d let anything ruin this now that he had you. He would’ve told Madani to go to hell if he’d known the favor was going to cause such a big disruption to the peace he’d found within you.
But not only did he owe his second shot to her, he desperately needed to know the truth himself.
“When will you leave?”
Frank hugged onto you even tighter, rubbing his hand along your lower back in soothing slow circles.
“M’not sure yet. But I’ll tell ya as soon as I know, I promise. And I’ll make sure you’re taken care of while I’m gone, yeah? I’ll be back before ya know it, baby.”
Hearing the soft sigh that sounded from you, Frank nuzzled his nose into your hair and whispered gently to you.
“Listen, I won’t take no more jobs like this, alright? I’m gonna handle this for Madani, and that’s it. I won’t do anythin’ else that’ll take me too far from you, yeah? I’m not gonna leave ya, sweetheart. I told ya I’m always gonna be here. I meant that then, and I mean it now. You ain’t ever gotta worry ‘bout that.”
You tried to find comfort in those words, but you weren’t in the mental state to accept any vows. You couldn’t get past the glaring truth that Frank was hiding something from you, and until you knew what it was, that crack of dishonesty would continue to slowly spread. You had a sneaking suspicion in the pit of your stomach that whatever verity Frank was concealing had the potential to shatter everything; unveiling the illusion that your relationship hadn’t been formed out of the impervious stone that you’d believed in, but rather of futile glass.
tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress
#frank castle#frank castle x you#frank castle x y/n#frank castle x reader#frank castle x female reader#frank castle x fem!reader#frank castle x f!reader#frank castle fic#frank castle series#the bodyguard series#bodyguard!frank castle fic#bodyguard!frank castle series#bodyguard!frank castle x reader#the punisher#the punisher fic#the punisher series
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A deal is struck between you and Soap. One round to get you out of his system and he'll leave you alone.
Cw: piv sex, mean dom Soap, fae magic, afab!reader, mild dubcon bordering on cnc at the end
Fae are often curious about you, but you have to admit Soap takes the cake. He follows you around like a dog on a short leash. It's maddening. You have no privacy and no recourse to send him on his way. After all the fae don't help without expecting something in return, and the police hardly seem bothered by the stalking. As always you have to take matters into your own hands.
You ask him what he wants, because you can't decipher the tangled web that seems to drift around him like a cloud and it takes him a moment. Fae get that question a lot you suppose, and they're so particular about language. It's why you're good at your job and get so few complaints, what you traded your eyes for.
"I want you," he says finally. You catch the spark of a want, lust that's sucked back into the mire of him. You can do that, though it's a little annoying.
"You just need to get me out of your system," you tell him, watching something crumble in his eyes. His brows draw together, his lips draw down, he does a good show of looking upset.
"I don't want you-"
"If I sleep with you, will that work?" You ask, no time for whatever nonsense he's going to try and weave. It perks him up, makes him nod like he can't do it quick enough. You hold up your hand to stop him, "you get one round, then you gotta leave me alone."
Soap mulls it over. You can see the way his lips purse, his tongue running over his teeth. He holds his hand out.
"Deal." He nearly drags you across the bar when you take his hand.
-
"You came, thats-" you sob out a moan, your eyes rolling as your back arches and your hips force themselves down onto Soap's cock, "-That's one."
"Oh no bonnie," Soap grins, grabbing your hips and pulling you down like a toy, fucking his thick cock up into you and hitting just the right spot each time, "the round's nae over until one of us taps oot."
You dig your nails into his shoulders, squeeze your eyes shut against the pleasure that he fucks into you. It feels electric, your stomach clenches, your pussy clenches, your body is desperate for more. The arch of your back forces you to lean closer to him, keeping the angle just right as you struggle against your traitorous body's desire for more. Soap takes the opportunity to lean up and drag his teeth over your nipple, catching the bud in his mouth and sucking hard. You gasp and feel your rhythm falter. Soap's hips still piston into you, but the gap in your hiccuped wailing makes him growl.
He pulls out, spins you around, forces your face down into the sheets and smacks his cock against your cunt. "No tappin' out hen," he tells you, sheathing himself inside you in a single hard thrust, "ya want this as much as I do." Your moan is high and tight. Your cunt aches, your insides battered and throbbing for more. Everything is tight, tight, tight. Your breath comes quick, gasps between moans, everything is wet and wonderfully painful, pleasureably painful. Too much and yet you still want more, more, more.
Soap smacks your ass, rubs his hand over the sting when you press into it. His hand slides to push your shoulders down, muttering for you to arch your back, but you can't, not when he makes you want to run with every perfect thrust. Soap's body blankets you, his thick thighs cage your own, his broad chest presses against your back, and he hooks his arm under your chin to pull your teeth from the blankets. You are well and truly pinned when his other hand sneaks between your legs to rub your clit in quick tight circles.
The come dripping out of you, forced from your cunt with each snap of Soap's hips, provides ample lubrication, and makes your cheeks burn. He flexes, chokes you between his bicep and forearm, toying with your clit while he fucks you. You may as well have handed him a manual on how to make you come. It should have happened by now, should have shuddered through you, but you rest just at the precipice of it, whining and whimpering when you aren't gasping and groaning. Soap kisses your temple, your eyes find his, that awful ice blue shining with something you can't put a name to. Pride, maybe.
"You don't come until I tell you to," he says it like a law, it feels like one. You whine, reach to push your hands weakly against his muscular, hairy, thighs, just for a second of reprieve.
"No-o," you whine, you're drooling, dripping from your cunt and your lips. Soap licks his tongue across your mouth, spreads your slick folds with his fingers and pinches your clit.
"Yes," he coos, "you want to don't ya?" You can feel the undercurrent of the question, the monkey's paw of dealing with the fae. But you do. You do. You're so tight and wet and wanting, you want to come, you want to fell apart for him, you want to be good and give him what he so desperately seems to need. And then you can wash your hands of him. One round to get it out of his system, that was the deal.
"Tell me you're mine," he murmurs, "tell me you're mine hen and you can come."
"Yours." Its out of you before you can even think the word, fucked out you, your body a cock-drunk traitor, "yours, yours." You sob it, scream it, tiny knots loosen inside your chest and the feeling floods you.
You stiffen, your voice and breath caught in your throat as something choked rips through you. Your muscles shake with it, you heart beating like a drum as pleasure crashes down into you. Soap fucks you through it, keeps you full of his cock while your cunt clenches and tries to suck him through another orgasm.
Soap groans, and you feel heat flood you a second time. Your eyes roll back, a shiver going up your spine as it burns against your aching cervix. He pulls back, his cock drags against your overworked, gummy, walls and it's bliss. The gentle stretch, the punctuated ripple of heat when he bumps against your g spot, it's a welcome reprieve. Until he thrusts back inside.
"Can't, no-" You don't think Soap heard you, too busy dragging his stubble against your neck, mouthing at your jaw. You're pushed over another cliff, your pussy squeezing so tight around Soap's cock you think you can feel ever vein on that beautiful thing. He groans, the sound low beside your ear and dangerously intoxicating.
"What did I say love?" He reminds you, "we go until you tap out."
#cod x reader#x reader#x oc#cod x oc#john soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#john mactavish x reader#soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish#soap mw2#soap cod#soap x reader#fae!soap#1fae1#f!reader#oc: moon
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Yandere S.T.A.R.S Team (Resident Evil) platonic headcanons
Note- I am back (It's been years), this has been in my drafts so I said fuck it/this is so messy and the timeline/canon may not be accurate but enjoy! This is mainly platonic, but w/some characters it could be interpreted romantically
Characters; Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Barry Burton, Joseph Forest, Brad Vickers, Forest Speyer, Richard Aiken, Enrico Marini, Kenneth Sullivan, Edward Dewey
The first person you perhaps meet is Albert; he is the leader of the S.T.A.R.S Team. Not only do all the recruiters get approved by him, but he also overlooks all your tests. He greets you like any other, but gradually something takes a hold of him. He's in denial at first, even seeming harsh. You may initially believe he didn't like you; oblivious to the countless files and cameras hidden everywhere.
Having the rest of the team be just as enamored was not on the table. You are immediately welcomed by the team and Rebecca is the first to befriend you since you two are the youngest of the team. Like how Richard was tasked with watching over Rebecca, he’s tasked with the same responsibility over you (even if Wesker preferred to do it himself).
Chris can't help but grow quickly fond of you. He positions himself in the role of your protector; feeling the utmost responsibility for your happiness and safety. So if you have any problems - whether it's with Chief Irons or getting in trouble for say, breaking a rule; trust he'll be quick to intervene and 'save' the day.
You're all Chris ever talks about to Claire and before long, the two of you cross paths. Claire, like her brother assumes herself in the role of being your friend right away. She occasionally pays you visits and you can be sure that you will receive calls from times when she's unable to visit. Claire expects Chris to keep her informed of you at all times.
Barry, Enrico, and Kenneth all take fatherly roles; they look at you and already placed adopted papers on the table ready for you to sign. It makes it all the harder for Wesker to have any absolute control as they all put their foot down.
Barry adores you and it’s not taken lightly when it’s said he treats you as his child, probably cause he views you as actually one of his own. He invites you to a family dinner, introducing you to his family who all naturally take a liking to you. Barry insists on his house always being open if you need a place to stay or run into trouble.
Since Barry sees you as his own, there is a never-end to his dad jokes. Even when you comment on how terrible it is, he likes seeing the smile on your face. Trust you'll be invited to every birthday, barbecue, or any family Burton event.
Enrico while he adopted a fatherly role, he was a bit reluctant to get so attached to you. He’s the few in the team who's fully aware and doesn't hesitate to call out the others when he thinks they are going too far. He worries a lot about your safety, and most times it's Enrico who comes out on top of arguments on who gets to drive you home.
Kenneth as the oldest of the team, feels the most responsible for you. He is aware just like Enrico and doesn't wish for you to be scared of him or the team. He wants you to come to him whenever you need anything, even for small tasks such as finding a specific file. Like Enrico, Kenneth has no problem telling the others to back off if you need space.
More trouble comes along when Forest and Joseph come along. They develop their tendencies the quickest and tend to be the most clingy out of the team. They (along with Chris) become your partners in crime.
Joseph is someone you can always count on to make you smile even in the most serious of situations; he doesn’t care when others lecture him for it. You're not safe from his teasing. Granted you're not the target of his pranks but he likes to poke fun at you from time to time. It's why no alarms are ringing in your head when he says something questionable, assuming he’s just being Joseph.
You're not safe from Forest's playful teasings either. He can be a little annoying, poking your cheek or trying to tickle you when wanting your attention. Like Joseph, he's very affectionate, putting his arm around your shoulder and resting his head on your lap if you allow it. The others lecture him for doing it so publicly but Joseph knows it's jealousy talking more than anything.
As said, a squad of its own is formed; Chris, Joseph, Forest, and you. While they tend to be jealous, the three are okay with sharing when it comes to each other. Forest and Chris enjoy competing in shoot training and showing off who can do it better, inviting you to place bets. They're happy to show you all the gun's tricks and let you choose your weapon's signature.
Joseph, being a mechanic, can't always spend as much time with you. But he'll eagerly drag you into teaching you the ropes, whisking you away from the other two. He beams with pride when you grasp something from his impromptu lessons. Even if he's not exactly teaching you anything, he's happy to chat about anything as he works.
Jill becomes someone you’re close to, someone whom Chris and Barry trust to leave you alone with. She’s not afraid to whisk you away from the others when she wants to and won’t hesitate to call out anyone selfishly taking your time (Uhm Joseph).
Most of all, Jill loves having girl time with you. She's there for any fashion advice, gladly taking you shopping to revamp your wardrobe. If you're unsure how to do your makeup, she's eager to help, though Jill never wants to teach you so you can keep coming to her.
Jill is also willing to use any excuse to have you stay over at her place anytime even suggesting sharing an apartment to ‘save money”. And if you think Wesker’s the only one with a bunch of files, Jill has a hidden drawer filled with everything she has on you.
Brad becomes incredibly attached but is a bit shy about approaching you. He'll do little things to make your day better, like bringing your favorite coffee (watching you do it too many times) or organizing your desk just the way you like it.
Brad tries to agree with everything you do, supporting any ideas you bring forth in, team meetings and hesitates to snitch on you, always trying to talk to you first to prevent trouble (aka punishments). Similar to Kenneth, he's aware of his tendencies and doesn't want you to fear him.
Richard is the softest guy on the team as said, was tasked with watching over you and quickly grew fond of you, He has made it well known that if you ever need help you can seek him out even when you get in trouble, he’ll gladly keep it hidden from the others to avoid you being in trouble even taking the brunt of it.
If you find yourself spending time with Richard, trust that Rebecca is there, too, being the sweetest in the group as well. Initially, she might not fully grasp her tendencies, but once she does, her sole concern is your safety and happiness. She frowns upon hearing Jill and Chris discussing ways to keep you confined and is the one who tries to reassure the others not to be too 'harsh' on you.
Edward may appear intimidating, but he's actually a softie at heart. While he might not warm up to you as quickly as Forest and Joseph did, given some time, he grows fond of you and eventually places him as your trusted friend. He's aware that his demeanor can be intimidating and desires nothing more than for you to feel comfortable opening up to him, always offering a smile whenever he sees you around the RPD.
----------------------------------------------
Chief Irons has learned that you're the one person he can't even dare to go near. You might be a troublemaker, breaking every rule in the book, but Albert will put his foot down to ensure nothing comes of it. It's enough that the rest of the team has a dislike towards Irons, and he, along with everyone in the RPD, knows that crossing you means crossing the Stars team.
Wesker also keeps the extent of his monitoring and knowledge of you a closely guarded secret. He's aware that Kenneth, Enrico, Richie, Edward, and Barry all vocally dislike the idea of 'stalking' you in such ways (they all do but try to keep it as ‘morally right’). In his grand plan, he hopes to lure you away, but he must do it in a way that won't raise suspicion.
You have the most protective people watching over you. Even a simple accident like someone spilling a cup on you puts everyone on high alert.
Your favoritism doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the RPD, sparking rumors around the station that Edward and Barry quickly shut down whenever they hear someone bad-mouthing you.
Chris and Forest, on the other hand, can be incredibly impulsive, leading to all sorts of issues that Wesker and Enrico have to deal with. Jill and Joseph even got in trouble once for punching someone.
That means going on no dangerous missions; the one thing they all agree on. Wesker ensures that all your missions are carefully managed, eliminating any risks of you being in danger, and he pretends not to know what you mean if you ask. The other members are willing to gaslight you, suggesting that you just happen to get the easy ones, even Rebecca and Brad.
They're all eager to fight each other to train you, each claiming they're better at teaching you self-defense. Chris and Forest are the ones who usually end up teaching you since they're often the first ones to arrive.
But everyone knows that if Wesker insists on training you, they can't object. And it's probably for the best, as some (Uhm Richard, and Edward) will pretend to lose or go easy on you because they don't want to "hurt" you.
The team normally doesn’t go out, but they all want to spend time with you. Usually, all of you go to diners (except for Wesker, wonder why). There's a little argument over who should order you to prove who knows you the best.
Your seat is chosen to please everyone, sometimes between Jill and Chris, other times between Richard and Rebecca. Another silent argument happens when they debate on who should pay for you; Enrico succeeds by slipping the payment to the waiter when the others aren’t looking.
Everyone always makes sure you come home safe. You expect numerous calls from everyone checking up on you. They all secretly know you're fine, as they're in cahoots with each other, but they just want to hear your voice.
There's also a chance that if Richard, Forest, or Jill are the ones bringing you home, they'll make some excuse about needing to stay overnight because they're tired or the weather is bad.
If you need someone to drive you to the station or pick you up, perhaps because you can’t drive, they're all willing to fight each other once again to do so. They've left important meetings or appointments countless times just to rush to your aid. It's almost always Wesker, Richard, Enrico (and sometimes Chris) who beat the others in picking you up.
Once again, you're always taken to events that the teammates have. Brad is getting takeout, he's on his way to pick you up since he assumes you're also hungry. Forest wants to go out for a drink, prepare for him to be at your door, and when you attend together, he’s protecting your drink with his life and will even pretend to be your boyfriend. Barry has a baseball game he wants to attend, so why not come with him and his family.
Jill needs to pick up a new outfit or something in the way, she decides to take you as well. Rebecca comes along, and sometimes the three of you have spa days in the process. Rebecca also loves going on road trips with you; there needs to be a person or two with you to ensure nothing bad happens. Rebecca once brought you to her favorite team's basketball game and the two of you shared those nachos and fries. It was Rebecca's happiest memory.
Movie nights are a must. Brad and Edward agree with anything you wish to watch, while Jill and Joseph are fighting over which ones to watch. Chris and Forest are trying to get your attention more than actually watching a movie. Meanwhile, Rebecca is actually enjoying the movie and wants to talk to you about it later on. She and Richard ensure you have your popcorn, and Richard brings your favorite bakery treats.
Expect to be always praised when you're around the team. Wesker himself praises you for a job well done whenever you find a clue or bring him the right file. Richard, Edward, and Rebecca are the most vocal. Also expect Chris and Barry to give you a pat on the back, while Forest and Joseph jokingly pat your head.
Wesker has you as his right-hand assistant, even when it’s not officially confirmed as such. You're tasked to help and stay by him whenever he needs assistance. He pretends not to see everyone side-eyeing him when he places your desk right next to his, but then again, they all ignore his stare when they come to your desk for whatever excuse they need.
The best people to comfort you are Barry, Enrico, Kenneth, and Richard. These men hate seeing you in tears. Brad will try to make you laugh while hugging you, while also finding the right words to comfort you. You can lie to Enrico, and he'll still know; he's memorized your body language, pulling you into an immediate hug before the tears even come.
Kenneth's ability to comfort shines in giving the best advice and solving any issues you have. Richard will sit next to you and listen; it could be the middle of the night, and he'll gladly answer any call or stay up to do any activities that will cheer you up.
Something everyone has huge arguments about is punishments; it gets heated at times. These discussions are, of course, not done in your presence.
Wesker is open to punishments, Chris and Jill agree with precautions, and Barry may reluctantly agree but claim he wants nothing to do with it. Brad and Rebecca voice their disagreement but can’t really intervene. Edward and Richie, like Barry, say they want nothing to do with it. Forest and Joseph don’t like it but will let the others make the decisions. Enrico and Kenneth are the most vocal against such decisions.
-------------------------------------------
Everything is going well in the team until the mansion incident.
You had to be with the Alpha team, unaware of the fate that fell upon the Bravo team, as there was no way Wesker would have let you out of his sight.
You had to witness Joseph get mauled by the zombie dogs, and if it weren’t for Wesker shooting the one coming at you and Chris pulling you along, you may have been a victim of it. Getting into the mansion has them immediately checking for injuries, only to realize you are just shaken up.
If you try to suggest coming along with Chris to check on what’s happening, Wesker immediately disapproves, even pulling rank to have you stay by him, and Jill agrees. Chris assures you he'll be just fine.
Things happen and it may lead you to be separated from Wesker and Jill. It makes all of them panic and look for you. Chris is nervous but assumes you must be with either Wesker or Jill. Jill and Wesker are trying to remain calm as they search. There is a chance you will meet Rebecca, who informs you of Edward's death, and this leads to you reuniting with Chris.
Alternatively, you may come across Barry, who refuses to leave your side, leading you to reunite with Jill. Both scenarios will have you meeting Richard, who immediately embraces you upon seeing you safe. You may also encounter Enrico, who seems hesitant to inform you of who he believes is responsible for the situation.
Forbid you get injured at any moment in the mansion, everyone will be in panic. Barry will try to reassure you, holding your wound while Jill rushes to get any herbs. Or Rebecca will try to tend to you while Chris silently panics in the background, refusing to leave your side. Richard will insist you stay in a room for your safety while he tries to find Rebecca or first aid. Enrico tries to remain calm, bringing you along with him as he rids the area of any zombies, fearing the risk of leaving you alone.
Soon enough, you will find out about Wesker's involvement, and his first act is to keep you as a hostage, even knocking you out. He’s merely bluffing but needs to keep the others away. If he encounters Enrico, he is well aware the man knows he’s a traitor and will kill him in front of you. After all, you will know the truth either way.
It all ends with Wesker believed to be 'dead,' killed by the tyrant, and the mansion about to blow up. You and everyone mourn all those who you have lost, and you are surrounded by the remaining survivors as they try to comfort you and tend to any injuries you may have gained.
You are too lost in your grief and all you have experienced that you don’t realize the eyes all watching you, as they all make a silent vow to themselves to forever keep you safe. And most of all, you don’t know that Wesker has been reborn, getting out of the mansion as he plots his revenge.
@aphroditelovesu @yanderes-galore @gwynsly @tiddlybops
#resident evil x reader#yandere resident evil#albert wesker x reader#chris redfield x reader#jill valentine x reader#rebecca chambers x reader#yandere x reader#x reader insert#platonic yandere#yandere headcanons#reader insert#video game x reader#resident evil#stars team
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(minors, ageless blogs don’t interact!)
໒꒰ྀི o̴̶̷̤ ̯o̴̶̷̤ ꒱ྀི১ thinkin’ about rockstar!toji, who plays the bass in a band that you’re obsessed with. not just because of the music they play — but because of the bassist, toji.
you watch him from the crowd with those huge eyes of yours as he strums away on the stage; watching the way his fingers curl against the strings of his instrument. it just gets you wondering how nice it might feel if those fingers were somewhere else…
toji only cares about money, fame and women. if you’re none of those — then your chances with him are pretty much worthless. you know this. but that doesn’t stop you from walking backstage once he’s done performing.
a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be backstage of a rock band. toji’s ears perk up when he hears you calling for him, and turns around to look down at you with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “whatcha need, kid? and what’re you doin’ here?” he grunted, lighting up his cigarette as he eyes you up and down.
it would surprise him — or anyone, for that matter — that you’re not as innocent as you may seem. what goes on in your head when you see toji is just filthy. and now that you’re face-to-face with him, your heart feels like it might explode.
it took only about… 5 minutes or so before you’re dragged out by his large hands and taken into the backseat of his car. anyone else would die to be in your place right now.
toji can’t resist either, not when you bat your lashes at him so innocently, the way your frilly skirt barely covered your plump ass; knowing, you wore it on purpose in case this ever happened.
“god… yer such a slut, huh? wanted me to fuck you till you’re seein’ stars?” he groaned against your lips, one hand pinned your wrists above your head as you lay down on the seats. “mm!” you squealed as you felt his hand coming down to slap your ass and squeeze it. “ha- fuck, toji.. i wan’ it so bad.” you whined, looking up at him with a soft pout.
never in a million years would toji think he’d be pounding some needy fan’s cunt in the backseat of his car. but the way you looked at him.. how could he not?
his dick stretches you out so good, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust as he brings one hand down to play with your sensitive bud. his fingers were just as good as you imagined, almost as good as his cock that was buried deep in your weeping pussy.
#toji fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji x reader#toji x you#toji smut#jjk toji#dilf toji#toji x y/n#jjk smut#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#filthy thoughts#shoujo
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How about Velvette with a journalist reader who's there to interview her and struggles to stay professional in the face of her relentless flirting over the course of the interview. Reader may or may not leave with an "autograph" 😉
a/n — oh my god guys, I’M A JOURNALIST!!! Wow, what are the odds! Anyways, marry me?
warnings — Velvette being very pushy, very suggestive, reader is so done, lowkey borderline harassment but… sorry guys she would, NOT PROOFREAD!!!
summary — Journalist reader tries to interview the youngest and newest member of the Vees, however she seems to be interested in something else.
The goal was to get people talking. Questions should have the ability to cover a wide variety of subjects, snowballing into the next topic with ease, you knew that.
However, the questions cartwheeled rather than snowballed. “Being a new comer in hell, making an alliance with two of hells most powerful overlords must have been difficult. How’d you do it?”
“I’m a big girl, babes, I can do a lot of things.”
Okay, so the way she licked her lips when she said that was a little provocative, but you decided to include the statement alone rather than the details. After all, the ‘sass’ that could be interpreted could keep things entertaining.
And she was, to be fair. She gave off enough personality with each quote that she would practically pop right off the page. Her mannerisms showed when she spoke, you could use that.
After all, god knows this was going to be better than that Zestial interview. That guy was as cryptic as he was unenthusiastic to those who pry. Jesus, Velvette gave you much more to work with.
However, what started off as a good interview was getting harder and harder to make do with. You figured you could use one of her flirtatious comments, break the fourth wall a bit, but dear god, would she ever answer the question?
“—Of course, I’m not assuming anything. You just look like you know your way around a pussy.”
“Miss Velvette—“
“But shit, aren’t I flattering you? Maybe you can prove it too me but until then—“
“Miss Velvette,” You hiss, brows furrowing together in pure irritation, “The question was about your history in fashion.”
“I’d love to know your history in dating,” She smiled back.
She was pretty, that was undeniable. And honestly infuriatingly cute, but your job was important.
“Tell you what, maybe if you answer all my questions accordingly, i’ll give you my number,” you offer, “How’s that sound?”
And she did. You were back where you started, interesting replies and explanations, lots of good material for an article.
So at the end, you pause your recording, pack up your laptop, and do as you promised.
Putting your contact in her phone, you shake her hand, “It was a pleasure, miss Velvette. I hope we work together soon.”
“Oh, I know we will,” Her smile was smile and knowing, “One more thing.”
With that, she leans up planting a kiss on, not your cheek like you expected, but the upper part of your neck, making you suck in a breath.
“You know, I never fucking liked journalists,” She spoke as her lips left your skin, and began to walk away, “Thought you all were a bunch of noisy assholes.”
You didn’t say anything, your hand just slowly came up to your neck where her lipstick was presumable staining. A smile drew at your lips.
“Except, I do like you darling,” She stopped in the doorway, “Kisses!”
#inbox open#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel velvette x reader#velvette x reader#velvette x you
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Big Sky Country - ch. 1
Cowboy!Frankie x OFC
Hi!
I'm really excited to post the first chapter of my new fic after posting a little snippet of it almost a month ago! In it we meet a cowboy version of Frankie as he returns to New York to patch things up with his "maybe girlfriend", but he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.
No age gap, OFC story, angsty as fuck in parts, some smut, and I'm putting poor Frankie through hell again (I love him, I swear...)
And a big shout out and thank you to @i-own-loki who made the beautiful banner!
Warnings can be found here - contains spoilers but please read if you know certain themes may be upsetting for you. This fic is dark in parts and I don't want to upset anyone.
Series Master List
Main Master list
Prologue
The Greyhound bus rumbled away down the pin straight highway, heading west, towards the darkening mountain range. The sun slowly sank behind the highest peaks, soon their shadows would touch her feet. Looking back, east, towards a past she’d left on a whim, she sighed and let her eyes drift up to the indigo sky. Big sky country indeed.
So alien to her eyes, so open to someone used to living their life surrounded by tall buildings, busy people, small trees in small parks.
Here, the open prairie gave speed to the cold wind that hurtled down from the mountain range, whipping dirt from the road, tugging at her loose hair. She briefly closed her eyes against the particles of dust, inhaled deeply, tasting it on her tongue, dry grass in the air, a hint of snow from the mountains. No way back now, the bus too far away to stop. Only her duffel bag and a phone number, hoping he’d pick up and let her in.
He pressed his thumb to the button with her name, the taxi behind him rolling away down the crowded street. The buzz from the intercom added another layer of noise to the assault on his ears.
He dropped his hand.
Waited.
Glanced down the street, letting the tall steel and glass buildings pull his gaze upwards, to the thin sliver of dirty gray sky visible above them. With a sigh he dropped his eyes down, towards the end of the long street, where the buildings seemed to merge into one solid wall. He knew he was looking west, could feel it in his bones, in the way his feet wanted to start walking towards it. Towards the tall mountain range behind his home.
He pressed his thumb against the button with her name on it again, the buzzer grated his skin. He had a way back, nothing stopping him from hailing a cab, climbing back on the Greyhound and heading west again.
But she was here. If he wanted to make this work, he needed to be here.
Chapter One
A wall of warm air hit Frankie as he pulled open the door to the bar, chatter spilling out onto the street. His shoulders pulled up to his ears, the environment uncomfortable to him and he stopped just inside the door, scanning the room for something familiar apart from the smell of stale beer in the air. This bar was the first one he saw that looked like it would maybe serve someone like him, a Texas boy, fresh off the bus from Montana. He’s pretty sure he still has horse dung stuck to the bottom of his cowboy boots, his old army duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
The door behind him opened again, cold air hitting the nape of his neck under the ball cap.
“You growing roots, old man?”
The line is followed by a man snorting and a hand on Frankie’s arm, pushing him to the side. He would snap, bite back with a threatening remark, or at the very least fix the man with his most intimidating soldier scowl. But he just took two steps to the side, his shoulders creeping closer to his ears as he tugged at his cap, the movement unintentional, a nervous habit. He knew he was out of place here, a stranger.
The young man, a yellow backpack slung over his shoulder and long hair pulled into a bun, shoved his way past Frankie, catching the eye of the woman behind the bar.
“Hey, dickwad! Behave yourself or I’ll have you barred,” she barked, her eyebrows furrowed as she jabbed her finger at the man and he raised his hands in a weak gesture of apology as he sauntered towards the bar.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he snarked, heading towards a loud crowd further in, walking away and ignoring the frown from the woman. She turned her attention to Frankie instead and looked him up and down, an appraising look, before meeting his eyes.
“You coming or going, cowboy?”
“Uuh..coming,” he managed to press out, picking up his feet and walking to the bar. He felt heat creep up his neck at being so easily pegged as a cowboy, an out of towner, swallowing down the urge to turn on his heel and bolt out the door. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and the woman behind it gave him a smile, setting down a coaster with a flick of her wrist.
“What can I get you? You look like you’ve traveled far.”
“Just a beer, thanks,” he said and she gave him a softer smile, pity flashing across her face.
“This is Brooklyn, cowboy, I’ve got twenty beers on tap and forty in bottles,” she said and he felt fatigue set in, can’t even order a normal fucking beer in this city. He sighed deeply, dropping his head between his shoulders. But the woman just chuckled in a low voice, tapping her hand on the bar just in front of him.
“Don’t despair, I’m a good bartender, I know what you’ll like.”
He picked up his head as she stepped away, grabbed a glass, and moved to a tap further down the bar. Shooting him a quick grin, she began to pull the pint, amber liquid filling the glass, topping off with a creamy white head. He watched her from under the bill of his cap, shouldn’t really appraise her, but he couldn't help it. The fitted jeans on her curves, and the faded bar uniform shirt tied at the waist instead of tucking it in, made his eyes drop down over her ass in a way a man trying to save his relationship with another woman should avoid. And she clocked him, checking her out when she turned towards him again, making him snap his eyes to his hands on the bar. Heat crept up his neck as he rubbed the small bullseye tattoo next to his thumb.
“Amber ale from a local brewery three blocks from here,” she said and placed the pint on the mat in front of him.
“Thanks,” he replied, watching the bubbles rise to the bottom of the head, “looks good.”
“One of my favorites, I’ve always had a soft spot for amber ale,” she nodded, picking up a cloth and returning to the never ending duty of cleaning glasses.
Frankie picked up the glass and took a long sip, humming as the ale slipped down his throat.
“Damn,” he said, “that’s good, that’s really good.”
“Told you,” the woman smiled at him and he gave her a quick smile in return before he took another sip.
She watched him from the corner of her eye as she moved around the bar, clean glasses getting wiped and stacked. Clearly a newcomer to the city, she’d called him ‘cowboy’ and he hadn’t protested, the boots and the duffel bag giving him away, even before she saw his uneasy eyes roam around the bar and his nervous shuffle. She’s used to assessing anyone who stepped in through the door, the loud ones, the quiet ones, the ones who are only coming to make trouble.
This man was one of the quiet ones, she doesn’t think he’s loud even when he’s in his own element, surrounded by friends.
As he took another long drink from his pint, she turned and picked up glass, catching his eyes on her. She smiled warmly at him, wanting to make him feel welcome, at least in this bar. The city outside is usually brutal to newcomers, and this one seemed to carry more of a burden than most.
“So you’re new to the city?” she asked him, moving back to his side of the bar, pushing long strands of ginger red hair back behind her ears before wiping another glass.
“Yeah, came in on the bus a few hours ago,” he replied and she nodded. He doesn’t look like he flew into the city, he’s got the tired face of someone who's spent too many hours leaning against a window, watching the Midwest slip past. But underneath the tired eyes there’s a warmth, a softness in the way he gives her a small crooked smile that makes a dimple appear on his right cheek.
“Spent two fucking days on it,” he sighed, rubbing a large hand over his face before he lifted his cap and swept his thick curls back. She was temporarily mesmerized by how they bounced back around his ears as he squashed the cap back down.
“Two days? Where did you come from, Texas?” she asked, her eyes widening at the thought of spending two whole days on a bus, but he shook his head.
“No, I think Texas is like three days, I came from Montana,” he took another long drag of his beer.
“I’m guessing this isn’t a weekend trip then”, she quipped, putting down the cloth, all the glasses done, and leaned back on the counter behind her. There’s more work to be done but the stranger chuckled softly at her joke and it pulled her in, making her smile in return.
“No, I’m here to stay with someone, my..ah-a friend, of sorts,” he said, “Gonna see if I can find some work around here, try a different type of life.”
“What do you do?” she asked, “Maybe I know someone who knows someone, that’s usually how it works here.”
“Back in Montana I work with horses, on a ranch,” he replied, rubbing his thumb over the condensation on the beer glass, “Before that, I was a mechanic, cars, helicopters, anything really, I can usually fix it.”
“That’s a pretty handy skill,” she replied, sounding impressed and he gave a little shrug, as if the ability to fix helicopters was something inconsequential, “I’m sure you’ll find work, especially if you can fix old cars, lots of those around here.”
She turned and grabbed a notepad from next to the till, “What’s your name and number? I’ll keep it on hand and ask around for you.”
“Really?” He sounded surprised as he sat up a bit straighter, “Uh yeah, I’m Frankie, Frankie Morales.”
“Nice to meet you, Frankie,” she smiled back at him and slid the notepad across the bar, “Write it down, and your number. I can’t promise anything, and I’m not recommending you to anyone, I’ll just let them know you’re looking for work.”
“Yeah, sure, of course, but anything helps,” he replied, grabbing the pen and jotting down his information.
“What’s your name?” he asked, as he passed the notepad back to her.
“Aisling,” she replied, slipping it in next to the till again.
“Do you own this place,” he asked, looking around the bar. When he looked back at her she was shaking her head.
“No, not at all, I’m just the bartender,” she said, “Give me a minute, I’m just gonna serve these guys.” She gave him a quick smile and headed down the bar to two men who had just sat down.
Frankie watched her as she took their orders, smiling and laughing easily as she pulled a beer for one of them. The men, her age, are both hanging on to her every word as she makes a joke, the blonde one clapping the other one on the shoulder with a loud howl. She winked at him and turned, reaching for a bottle on the top shelf to serve the other man. As she stood on her tiptoes, stretching to reach, her shirt rose up, a soft sliver of creamy skin exposed in the dim light of the bar. Frankie couldn’t help but stare at the glimpse black underwear peeking out above the edge of her jeans, a flash of lace, his mouth suddenly dry as his cock reacted. He dipped his head, but couldn't keep his eyes away, she swayed on her tiptoes, refusing to get the stepladder and her breasts pressed against the shirt as it rode up higher. Frankie had an image of her underneath him, all that soft flesh, warm and smooth under his rough palms, sweet smelling and whimpering.
She managed to slide the bottle off the shelf and grab a glass. Frankie peeled his eyes away, looking down at the now empty pint in his hands, pressed his thumb into the tattoo, forcing his thoughts in another direction. At the end of the bar, Aisling rang up the customers’ order and wiped down the bar before coming back towards him.
“Do you want another?” she asked, nodding towards the empty glass. Frankie considered it for a beat and then shook his head. He wanted a clear head when he went back to the apartment, he needed to say the right things to save the relationship with the woman who lived there. He already knew that not even in his head could he bring himself to call her ‘girlfriend’, he’s far from sure that’s what she is anymore, not with the way they left it.
“No, I can’t,” he said, “It was good though, what do I owe you?”
“Fourteen fifty,” Aisling replied and he tried not to cough at the price as he pulled his wallet from the back of his jeans.
She took his bills and he left her a tip on the bar that she deposited in the tip jar with a smile.
“Uhm…tell me,” Frankie said, absentmindedly tugging at his cap, “Do I really look that much like a cowboy?”
Aisling’s smile softened as she heard his nervous question, “Well…yeah, the cowboy boots are kinda a give away,” she replied, “It doesn’t exactly look like it’s a fashion choice, and the whole jeans, suede jacket, belt buckle look…” She motioned over his body as Frankie’s eyes dropped down to his jeans and belt, hidden from view by the counter.
“You’re good,” he said, a small chuckle escaping him, “You got all that just from when I came in?”
“Tricks of the trade,” she replied, “I need to know who steps into the bar and read them quickly.”
“So you assessed me as soon as I walked in? What else did you pick up on?” He was curious now and leaned forward on the counter as she laughed.
“Well, I’m cheating because we’ve been talking for a bit now. But you do look ‘new in town’ and I’d say ex-army maybe?”
“I guess the duffel bag gave it away?” Frankie smiled, glancing down at the old bag at his feet.
“No, they’re ten dollars at the army surplus stores,” Aisling replied, shaking her head, “But you sat down with your back against a corner, and I bet you can tell me exactly where the exits are and how many people are in here and which ones could give you trouble.”
Frankie raised his eyebrows in surprise at her and she shrugged.
“You’ve been scanning the room since you walked in.”
“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” he replied, letting his eyes roam across the room again, it’s instinct at this point, inherited from years in the army, “I quit the army years ago but it’s a habit I can’t seem to drop.”
“What did you do? Mechanic?” Aisling asked and Frankie shook his head.
“Helicopter pilot, which means I had to be able to fix anything, but mainly I flew things, anything really.”
Aisling gave him a closer second look and the pieces fell into place, his quiet demeanor, the way he held himself, not exactly folded in on himself, but as if he was trying to stay unseen and not be noticed unless he wanted to be. A strong, solid body gone slightly soft with age, betrayed by the gray in his beard and hair, small white scars across his knuckles, evidence of old injuries.
“What?” he asked as he noticed her eyes scanning him.
“Just building the picture,” she said, a small crooked smile, “You know us bartenders, always trying to figure out the story of our patrons.”
“Not much of a story,” he said, tugging at his cap and hiding his eyes, “just new in town, looking for work.”
“Everyone has a story, Frankie Morales.”
He shrugged at that and fumbled for his phone as it began to ring. Aisling gave him a quick smile and stepped away to let him answer in private.
Frankie’s jaw ticked as he saw the name on the screen, Eva. He’s been expecting her to call since he left her front door. Their front door, maybe. The truth is, he doesn’t know where they stand anymore. They’d met in Florida, after a doomed mission to South America that left so much pain inside him, and a rift between old friends. She’d been a calming presence, someone who seemed to have his back when his mind spiraled out of control. But she hadn’t been enough, being in Florida became oppressive, and it wasn’t just the humid heat. The old haunts from the days he’d spent trying to numb his brain with white powder, bars and venues filled with memories of the friends he’d lost, both those who’d died and those who still lived, it all became claustrophobic.
When Herb, his sponsor at the NA, first invited him to the ranch in Montana he’d scoffed at the idea. He was a pilot, not a ranch hand. But after a close call, nearly falling back into the habit, he’d taken him up on the offer and gone out there for two weeks. Herb had convinced him by talking about the clear, cool air making it easy to breathe, the open sky making the mind feel less claustrophobic. And he’d been right. The first evening they’d sat on the porch, the mountains at their back, the open prairie in front, and Frankie had looked up at the endless sky and it was almost as if he was back in a cockpit, flying close to the stars. Nothing encroached on his mind, no buzz in his ears, nothing tugged at his memories, just the open sky and an endless horizon.
The two weeks of hard ranch work, aching muscles, blistered hands, sealed the deal. If he wanted to truly start over, he needed to leave Florida and come here.
Eva had been enthusiastic at first, pulled in by Frankie’s talk of the horses, a new foal that had just been born, the small cabin they’d live in. He’d shared the pictures he’d taken, all rustic beams, sturdy wood furniture and a hammock on the porch. It looked like a romantic western dream and that’s what they both really thought it would be. And for the first few months they were happy.
But when Frankie found peace and calm in the solitude of the isolated ranch, felt free and unrestricted, she began to feel claustrophobic and suffocated. The nearest town, a forty-five minute drive away, didn’t offer much of anything. She found work online and began to resent the life he’d trapped her in. That was the word she’d used, trapped. When the fights became a daily occurrence, Frankie felt the familiar itch of wanting to escape come back. Starting, as always, in his feet and crawling up his body until he spent more time out on the ranch than in the cabin. And for every hour he stayed away, Eva resented their life more, resented him more.
Until eventually, one late evening when he came back after five days on the trails with a group of guests from a neighboring ranch, she’d left. Only a note saying she’d accepted a position in New York with the company she worked for. A line about needing a different type of life, no invitation to come with her, to follow her, just signed /E and that was it.
He’d called her, spent hours on the phone when she eventually picked up, begged her to come back. Offered to move to a ranch closer to a bigger town, find a compromise where he could still have the peace of the ranch life, but let her live her life too. But she loved New York, after the silent cabin, she craved the noise and the tempo of the city.
Eventually he agreed to come to New York, to see her new life and maybe find a place in it. But the city was an assault on his senses after so long on the ranch. The peace that his spiraling mind had finally found evaporated as he navigated the city, the metro, her friends, the bars. His feet itched, the skin around his nails was picked raw and he felt on edge, even in the apartment, his mind never getting a chance to be quiet.
Eva called it his need for control, to always have a plan of escape, a way out. He knew it was the years in the army that had shredded his sense of safety, left his nerves ragged and too exposed to the mundane background noise of a city. Maybe he’d be able to deal with it some day, but now, he needed the silence.
After two months in Brooklyn, he left. A loose promise from both of them to maybe try to patch things up, to try the long distance thing. But when he sent a text, saying he’d returned safely to the ranch, and she didn’t reply for two days, he knew it was over. And he didn’t miss her. He had loved her at some point, he thinks. But their lives didn’t match, their needs too different. And he saw that he should maybe not be with anyone while he laid down the foundations of a new life in a new place. He needed to find a way to live with himself, in silence, before he considered sharing his darkest sides with someone else.
And then Eva called. Six weeks after he’d left Brooklyn. He could hear the heavy traffic behind her as she walked down a street somewhere, leaving a clinic that had confirmed what she’d suspected.
“I’m pregnant, Frankie, and it’s yours.”
The words floored him, sent a sharp jolt of dread through his system, his feet tingling, then his scalp. A baby. In New York. But his baby, their child. And the dread was replaced by nerves, how would they do this? Would she want to raise the baby in New York or come back to Montana? He had space for a child here, a guest bedroom with a view of the mountains. It would be a perfect nursery, he could paint it, build a crib with Herb’s help, the nearby town was a good place to raise a family when the child was old enough to begin school. Without even stopping to think, he built a new life around the unborn child.
Or hell, even New York, he’d make himself put up with New York if that was what she wanted. The apartment only had one bedroom but maybe they could move further out, get a bigger place. He could renovate pretty much anything, he was sure of it. Maybe they could find a quiet neighborhood with trees, where his mind could find peace even in the city. Without even stopping, he built another new life around his, their, unborn child.
“I don’t know if I’m keeping it, but I wanted to tell you.”
Eva’s voice had been hard, letting him know that she was doing him a favor by telling him, letting him be part of it.
“I’ll come to New York, I’ll get a bus today,” Frankie pleaded, “Let’s talk this through, a few more days won’t make a difference.”
She’d conceded, and he’d thrown stuff into the old duffel bag, left a message with Herb, and driven to the crossroads where the Greyhound stopped.
Now he was here, in a Brooklyn bar, looking down at her name on his phone as he pressed the green button to answer.
Chapter 2
A/N: And we're off! I'm so nervous, I really hope you all will love this and follow along as I explore this new version of Frankie! I hope to post a new chapter every Sunday so fingers crossed life doesn't get in the way too much!
❤
Tagging the ususal suspects: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @casa-boiardi
#frankie morales#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal#frankie morales fanfic#triple frontier
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strong enough | J. Jungkook (3)
<series masterlist
pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader
genre/tags: idol! Jungkook, idol! reader, idiot exes to lovers, slow burn ; k-drama feels (our beloved summer but not at the same time), angst, drama, fluff, smut
warnings: foul/explicit language, alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters, panic attacks, reader is harsh towards Jungkook, Jungkook is a meanie!, mentions of old abuse (major trigger warning!!), talk about blood and wounds
w.c: aproxx 11.2
series summary: you and Jungkook have too many personal problems, during and after your relationship and it keeps getting brought up. you both had tried multiple times to ignore the fact you were both struggling mentally and physically due to your workplace, but you always run back to each other. maybe one day, one day you'll get back to each other, with all your problems handled, maybe not. all you want is for him to shine like he always does, all he wants is you.
a/n at very bottom!
To my love, my forever. You will soon find out the reason why I am the way am I. Give me some time, my love, I will express everything and more to you. Soon, you’ll have everything once I am able to love and care for myself the way I want to do to you. You deserve everything and more than what I could ever give you, and I will be there for you always. I may never give you this, I may never allow you to read this. But just know, you mean so much to me. Even if I’m a pain in the ass, or if I piss you off, you will always be the person who helped me want to change for the better. I know it may seem like i’m leaving you behind, but pushing you away is the best way for me and you to be able to find ourselves. Once we are settled and ready, I will never let you go, ever again. Mark my words, use them against me, but I know that once you let me in, I’ll never leave your side ever again. You’re my one and only, forever. You are my future, my light, the person who drags me to be right. You mean so much to me and more. But for now, let me go to become the one that deserves your love and wellbeing. Take care of yourself, Jungkook, you will do many good things in life, with or without me.
“i think you should give it to him,” one of your members slur out, making your already wobbly head tilt up to her as she hiccups for the 5th time that same hour, you sighed and your head pounded as your squinted tightly to look at her, “seriously! i think he would want closure that way,”
Jungkook definitely did. he knew that when you wrote letters, you meant every little thing. he knew something happened between you and your ex, his name is like a slap in the face to you, and he could always notice.
his hands started to shake as he continued to read your note, he didn’t know how you came all the way to his house just to ring the door bell and drop it off. he was even shocked to notice his name in your handwriting on the top of the note. he wasn’t mad about it, he was just so, so sad. his eyes burned as another drop fell onto his lap. Jungkook knew it was for the best, but why does it hurt so bad and why does he feel like he’ll never get better while you do?
Jungkook didn’t want to think that way, but he did. he always did, he hurts to see you go but hurts even more to see you shine without him. he kept all your little notes in a box, he was really considering giving it back to you since it was at some of your most vulnerable times. he wouldn’t want to keep these just in case he snoops through them, like he’s doing right now as he was putting the other note in there along with the tons of others.
one of them wrote a song that you made about him, him never leaving you and the way you love him. it breaks his heart more, knowing that you’re no longer around, and that he just keeps fucking up.
when you wake up the next morning, your hungover member told you about a box she found outside the door step with your name on it, your ears ring as you stand in front of the box sitting on your bed, biting the inside of your cheek because this was Jungkook’s box. it had a polaroid of the two of you with shots in your hands on his balcony last summer. it was his favorite picture of you both and wanted to keep it with all the letters you even written him.
you pace around your room for like and hour, biting your lip and running your hand through your hair to calm yourself down. it finally felt like you guys were officially over, no matter how many times you’ve broken up. when you opened it finally, there was a new one, one you definitely didn’t write. you don’t even remember going to his house and giving him the one you were gonna keep for your sake.
it was Jungkook’s hand writing, you knew it from the back of your palm, literally as you have a tattoo that he gave you himself. it read,
forever
and looking at it makes you sick. you felt like crap anytime you thought of him, what you had put him through, all the stuff he doesn’t know about you. you knew him so well, but did he actually even know you, truly? it made you want to cry, the tears lining your waterline and you fight the urge.
you give yourself time before opening up his letter, preparing yourself for the worst or to cry. when you start reading it, you felt like he was there with you. it felt as if he was pacing around your room, looking you dead in the eyes and telling you everything you’ve been wanting to hear, but at the wrong time.
I miss you a lot, I know I say that a lot, but it’s true. I’m glad you wrote me this, I’m glad you’re trying to find ways to open up to me, I’m glad you love me. You are my everything, I want what’s best for you, and if it’s not me then so be it. You deserve the whole fucking world, and I hope you know I tried so hard to give it to you. Maybe, in the long run, we can be happy together. Maybe we can be able to know each other truly, I always wanted to. I believe in right person, wrong time, because you’ll forever be my person, even if i’m not in the picture. I love you, ______, I always will.
you wanted to sob, you didn’t even know what to do. you had dropped the note off not expecting anything back, but getting everything back? even a letter from him, confessing how much he loves and cares for you. you didn’t know how to feel, if it was closure or not. to you, yours was supposed to be. his, his was a love letter, you’ll never let go of it.
you had one more promotion for you group, and you had to prepare in so many ways. you had to practice tons, and practing handling your emotions until you’re a zombie to what you truly feel, you couldn’t handle being around Jungkook for long. it’s crazy, how much you used to look at him thinking you’d never do anything to hurt him, yet you’re over here making him suffer because you are in your head. it tears at the deepest parts of you, and it makes you feel so much at once.
so when it came to the event, you felt your knees lock when you saw him sitting with his team. he looked breathtaking, and it sucks that you can’t look at him for long before you cry because he looks too good. Jungkook always looked good, but whenever you wanted to ignore him, it’s like he knows and wants to look that fine. you gulp hard because walking to over your assigned seats, a couple seats back behind them but at an angle to a way that you can see every part of Jungkook, his hands and thighs especially.
ones that put you through hell, sent you to another universe is what he would of said and has said before, smoking off your balcony as you sat on his lap with your legs shaking trying to not fall off. he laughed as he smacked your thighs, watching them shake more as you practically whine in soreness.
he took another puff off his cig before putting it down on his designated ash tray, but even knowing you didn’t smoke, he kissed you hard, forcing the hot smoke into your mouth and through your pipes, allowing him to do anything to you because you were obsessed with everything he did.
“fucked you out, huh, princess?” he said against your ear as he gave you a second to breathe, making you almost choke as his hand started to move down and between your thighs, giving them a squeeze before going deep between them to touch you where you shook the most.
let’s just say, the memory had your legs close tightly together. the thought of how much have gave you that night, it made you miss him even more for just taking care of you like he said he would. you could feel it starting to stick against your skin, immediately wanting to go to the bathroom.
you thought you were stable enough to walk down the stairs in front of all the idols and fans including, instead you almost dropped face first into the steps instead someone’s hand wrapped around your waist and around the inside of your thigh, gripping it hard as they held you from falling to your death infront of thousands of people.
“your shoes too big for you, baby?”
you really thought you were going crazy, that his presence was just teasing you. but as your eyes dragged themselves down to the hand around the inside of your thigh, you weren’t going crazy. the tattoos proving who the man really was and how his thumb was very close to your throbbing clit. you shivered before quicking bowing at him once you leave his grip and speed walking towards the exit.
the moment you got alone in a hallway, you looked around before pulling out your phone to text your leader where you were going to be, the bathroom, before you hear a door open behind you. you go to put your phone away, but a tight grip around your waist turns you towards the person, your phone falling on to the floor and your mouth to open up, perfect for the attacker to kiss you hard.
another hand grabs your hair and you immediately knew who it was based on the way he was holding you. he knew, and knew it was because of him. that’s all your thought about when his lips were softly against yours, until you felt his hands creeping up. he just knew how to distract you from the facts and knows how to get you to enjoy his attack.
“can we talk soon, princess?” he whispers lowly in your ear once he pulls away from your now desperate lips trying to reach his. you whimper at the nickname, one that just rolls off his tongue in such a degrading way, he grabs your chin softly, turning your face to face him. his eyes invited yours, and the longer you looked into them, the more you felt entranced by him.
“talk about what?” you sighed into his hold, which he notices and gives you your favorite smile in the whole world. it hard to ignore his hands gripping your waist, your hands clinging onto his dress shirt as he holds you, you didn’t expect to be in this position.
“we will talk later tonight, i’ll pick you up?”
“how, with what car-”
“i’ll figure it out, anything for you,” he presses his forehead against yours, making your eyes squeeze shut as he lets out a little chuckle because of your reaction to his proximity being so close to you, you could almost feel his breath against your lips. “you know i’ll do whatever i need to do to see you, i will figure out a way to see you later tonight, bunny, i promise,” he kisses your nose softly before letting you go without your even realizing he picked up your phone for you, a smile across his face as you nodded your head for him.
Jungkook didn’t give you a time, or a place to when he was going to pick you up. before you left the event, you had asked him what he was planning on doing with you and he just told you that you’ll have to wait and find out. Jungkook knew how to make you worry about what could happen. what should you even wear? is he taking me somewhere to eat? it’s kinda late for that-
doink
something just hit your window as you were pulling your pants up, you almost tripped in shock but managed to pull them up and fix yourself before going to your window. there he was, the man of your dreams, the love of your life, standing down there searching for more rocks to toss at your window.
you cracked your dorm room window open, not even wanting to question how he managed to get over the brick wall to get into the dorms, and he smiles when he sees your head peaking from the bottom of the window. he pats his hands on his thighs while you watch him with curiosity.
“get down here bunny, we have a lot to do tonight,” he stood up straight, hands put in his pockets as he stared off at you. you would of jumped right there into his arms after that nickname, you almost whined before nodding your head like an idiot and shutting your window.
you managed to sneak out, grabbed your shoes at the front and headed out from the back blind spot and running to where Jungkook stood, his hands tucked in his pockets to stay warm. his left arm raised so you could wrap your arm around it, a habit of the both of you. you just ignored the bad feelings and wrapped your arm around his, feeling his arm tighten around yours as you both started to walk to the car.
“you gonna tell me where we’re going, Jeon?” you tilt your head, your left knee against his center console as your left side rested on his passenger seat. his hand slid up to your knee, leaving you in shock as he gripped it in warning.
“stop asking questions, baby,” he tapped his finger on your knee, not even bothering to look your way. you huffed as you closed your eyes, trying to ignore his thumb moving against your thigh now, his hand resting against it too.
“Jungkook, you know we can be doing this again. i know you remember what happened last time,” you warned, your head felt like it was spinning, none of this felt real. Jungkook bit his lip ring in thought, he just wanted to talk to you and apologize. he always wants to talk to you even if he’s been rude.
“______, what do you think i’m going to do to you tonight?” he spoke deeply, it sent waves through your spine, and down to your poor kitty. it’s crazy, what this big eyed man can do to you with only his hand on your thigh while he speaks to you like your his.
“i- i don’t know, what are you asking me? i’m just confused why you’re doing this-”
“what do you want me to do to you tonight, baby? is there something else bothering you that only i can fix?” his hand rubs your inner thigh, occasionally softly squeezing the skin closest to where you needed help the most. “i’ll do whatever you want me to do to you, you just have to speak up, darling. is that okay? can you do that for me, princess?”
you almost moaned, gasping at his eagerness to help you with whatever you want, and you knew he meant that. “Jungkook, we can’t be doing thing again, as much as we want to-”
“fuck that and fuck no contact, we were doing good as fuck the last time we were friends. can we not be friends, baby?”
“that’s why! you keep calling me my favorites, you can’t do that to me..” you whined, you wanted to hide away as he giggled at how you whined. when the car slowly starts to come to a stop, you got reminded that the whole time you were talking to him, getting teased by him, he was driving. “Jungkook… where are we?”
“let me help you out and show you,” he smiled, and you just knew that you had to trust him, why? because he’s Jeon Jungkook, why wouldn’t you trust the love of your life?
when he open your door, hand already reaching for his as he helped you out of the car, the smell of salt hit your face in a whiff, making you smile at the moment you had at this beach with Jungkook. but why here? why did he want to talk here?
you didn’t trust your voice, watching his open his back door to grab a blanket and cigs, which you thought he quit, with a lighter and a flashlight. you didn’t say a word as you hugged onto his arm as he walked to a specific place, your guys place. the place where he gave you head for the very first time, you found sand up there for at least a day after that.
“do you trust me, sugar?” Jungkook asked you, tugging you to sit next to him on the blanket over the cold sand at the dark lonely beach. it’s like he knew what you were worried about, could you trust him again? it’s not like he broke your trust, it’s about you trusting yourself around him. if anything besides talking happens tonight, and you guys become exactly what you were afraid of becoming, you won’t know what to do with yourself.
it’s a bit selfish you thought, as his hand rested against your shoulder as you snuggled against his neck, breathing in only Jungkook and a little bit of salt. you loved this, but it couldn’t get any farther than this. just small, and slight, touches and sometimes kisses, only at certain times. the sound of the waves crashing tingled your ears, debating if you should listen to his heartbeat or not.
“do you know why i want you out here with me tonight, baby?” his voice vibrated your cheek as he spoke, his fingers gliding against the thin fabric of your long sleeved shirt. you hummed, you felt him swallow before you moved your head to face him.
“i wouldn’t have asked you that a million times in the car, Jungkook,” he smiles when your eyes finally reach his. he used to ask you, what did you see when you looked into his eyes? you usually just laughed it off or ignored the question, but now you think you know the questions answer. Home. in other words, Jungkook was your confort, the one you would go to, the one who makes you feel the safest, the one who keeps you feeling warm. Jungkook was your favorite.
Jungkook leans in, you can almost feel his breath against the wind, you almost forget where you are when you look deeply into his eyes. he leans so close to you that you could almost kiss him. you feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer- and closer to him, until your hovering above him.
you looked down at him, his hand sliding down your waist and on to your thigh to swing your leg over his body. he’s got you now, almost spread wide for him as his eyes glazed your entire body, making your shiver.
“let’s that about why you were so wet when i caught you from eating shit in front of everyone today, huh? or maybe… why you’re so wet right now, was it from the car ride? you just couldn’t wait, hm? baby?” he smacked your thigh, and you almost whimper at his words, “sit down on me, love. you know you want to. i’ll do anything you want me to, just let me in this one or more times and you won’t regret it this time,”
oh boy, you were in for a ride. baby, princess, sugar, darling, bunny, love. hearing that one burned, deeply in two places. your poor heart as you feel his hands grip your sides, and your poor throbbing cunt that it about to get slammed onto his hard on resting below you. either or, you know you’re safe and whatever happens can be dealt with. why? because you’re with Jeon Jungkook, why wouldn’t it be fine?
a/n: holy shit, this took forever and i sincerely apologize!! i love how this episode turned out and i will give you guys a slight warning! spicy scenes are coming up and I’m not backing down from this. it will be the dirtiest, most greatest- yeah! anyways, thank you for your patience, i love you all🥹
taglist: @loumin908 @heartjiminie @cuntessaiii @parkinglot-nights @minsoa97kor @jkgirlfr @lavendersugarplum @gaebestie @whoa-jo @kp0pficdump @yunholuv @skzthinker @shwkoqp18 @veemegatron @kaiparkerwifes @alextgef @nerdycheol @nightappple @nlr1606 @chl0buggy
if your tag isn’t gray, please fix your settings so i can tag you next time love!
#hyukaslvr#writers on tumblr#kpop fyp#kpop writers#bts#bts fanfic#jungkook bts#bts x reader#bts smut#bts army#bts fic#bts x y/n#bts x you#bts x fem!reader#bts x army#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook imagine#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#i love jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jeon jungkoooook#kpop smut#kpop x reader
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Hi Liv! Not sure if you do recs anymore but I read the funniest Drunk!Draco fic last night called How Draco Won Spin the Bottle (and Outed Himself in the Process) by written in ash (?) I think.
Do you have any other drunk!draco fics? I may have developed a new obsession
Haha I love this ask! Drunk Drarry is always fun, here are some favourites:
Tastes Like Soap by InnerLilith (E, 4.6k)
Harry goes to the foam party hoping to finally have casual sex. Draco goes to the foam party expecting yet another night of casual sex. Harry and Draco do not have casual sex.
Born Slippy by dracoladon (E, 8k)
Harry finds that it's less 'one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor' and more 'one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, decide Malfoy's quite fit, actually, and decent company after your friends traitorous abandonment, floor.' With Malfoy lying next to you.
Ferocious Determination, Insufficient Deliberation, and a Slightly Wrong Destination by Faith Wood (E, 9.5k)
All Draco wants is sleep, but his bed won't stop talking. More importantly, it refuses to stop looking like Harry Potter.
Tales of Apparation Gone Awry by @thecouchsofa (E, 12k)
These are the things Draco has recently learned:
1: Don’t apparate while drunk or you’ll end up in Potter’s living room without fail. 1a: This is a Big Problem. 2: Draco is unable to keep his mouth shut while drunk. 3: Pansy is a shite friend. 4: Potter has nice thighs. 5: Draco maybe possibly doesn’t mind his apparation problem as much as he lets on. 5a: Potter doesn’t seem to mind much either
One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore (T, 12k)
Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers.
Party of Two by fireflavored (E, 13k)
Drinking, sex, and a total misreading of the concept of fuck buddies.
Mixed Drinks and Crossed Wires by @korlaena (E, 16k)
Draco is a handsy drunk. Harry is okay with it, really. They’re friends, so it doesn’t mean anything.
Vanilla and Sweet Spices by FleetofShippyShips (E, 20k)
After the others leave an eighth year party, Harry still has the rum he snagged off Dean. But the only person left to drink it with is Draco Malfoy.
Take You Home by @lqtraintracks (E, 26k)
Everybody’s a little fucked up after the war, Draco especially. What starts as hate sex after a night out, eventually turns into something else, something more like comfort. And even though his friends all tell Harry he’s just being used, all Harry’s doing is making sure Draco gets home in one piece. He’s not falling helplessly in love.
Starts With a Spin by Maxine (E, 120k)
It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there's almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.
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the ghost - opposites attract universe
in front of the fire stands a broad shouldered man dressed in furs, staring down at your rug as if it means just as much to him as it does you. you don’t recognise him as a friend of your lovers, although it’s possible that you just haven’t met this one yet. you wrack your brain for names they might have mentioned, but each one that pops up in your mind is someone you’ve met before. that means that this man is a stranger.
you want to call out to him, ask him what the fuck he was doing in your home. perhaps you’d grab yeosang’s attention at the same time; the werewolf may be just a few steps behind you, but he is surprisingly unaware of his surroundings. maybe he’d leap into action, chase the intruder out of the house. but then you blink and the man is gone, completely vanished like he’s some sort of…
ghost…
“did you just see that?” you ask yeosang, the werewolf slowly coming to a stop behind you with a strip of jerky hanging lazily between his lips. he really hasn’t been paying attention to much other than the way your hair shines prettily under the dim candles that light the home, so it’s safe to say that he has no idea what it is you’re talking about. he gives you a questioning hum as he rips the jerky with his teeth.
“see what?” his voice is muffled by the meat that he insists on chewing as he speaks. the sound of his lips smacking sends an unsatisfying shiver down your spine, and your mouth tugs into a frown.
“so i guess the answers no?” you scoff, crossing your arms in irritation, “some guard dog you are; i don’t think you’d be able to spot an intruder if he came up to you and gave you a handshake!”
yeosang doesn’t respond to your insult, merely rolling his eyes before tugging you over to jongho, the rug, to cuddle. always so dramatic, he thinks to himself as he flops onto the floor and gestures for you to join him. you do, lying straight on his chest in a way that seems to force all the air out of his lungs. normally, he’d pin you for that, holding you to the floor until you’re promising him to be more gentle through your honestly insulting giggles. though, he finds that with the lack of air in his lungs, it’s rather difficult to flip the two of you over. next time, he concludes before wrapping his tail protectively around your thigh.
a few hours later, you find yourself in the greenhouse with seonghwa, watching the graceful man tend to his plants as he hums out a pretty tune. yeosang is long gone, deciding to take some alone time after listening to you ramble about your most recent interest, book binding, for as long as he could stand to. he gave you some fake excuse of needing to ask hongjoong about something, but you aren’t quite dumb enough to believe that. especially when you watched him walk in the opposite direction of the office you knew your daddy was in.
still, you don’t really mind having your time away from your friend. it gives you the opportunity to spend time with your lovers without the grumpy mutt offering his snarky comments every few sentences.
“hey, seonghwa?” you say, voice lilting with curiosity as you push yourself up to sit on his work bench. there’s a grimace on his face as he watches your thighs press down against the dirt covered wood, the compost and debris no doubt rubbing into the material of your denim shorts. its fine, he tells himself; it’ll come out with a little manpower… hopefully.
“what is it, lamb?” seonghwa hums as he tugs his cotton gardening gloves from his hands and lays them perfectly straight on the table. his fingertips are painted with a deep shake of purple today, done by hongjoong’s fair hands just the night before. as he lays a hand on your exposed thigh, you can’t help but think that the colour looks pretty against your skin.
“do you think ghosts are real?”
the question takes seonghwa by surprise, you can see by the way his eyes go wide and his blinks slow for just a moment or two. he lets out an inquisitive hum, lips pursing slightly as he tries to think of an answer.
“well, i know they’re real,” seonghwa purrs as he gently spreads your thighs, stepping between them so he can look you in the eyes. he’s pretty from this close up—not that he isn’t always pretty—with his wide eyes twinkling and pink lips so beautifully plush. you so badly want to steal a kiss from him, but you also want to know the answer to your question. you hold back for now; there’ll be plenty of time for kissing later. “why are you asking?”
you almost tell him, but just before the words fall from your lips, you hold back. perhaps telling one of your lovers that you saw a man in their living room would be cause for concern. whilst you’re almost entirely convinced that he was a ghost, the only proof you have is that one moment he was there and the next he wasn’t. it’s very plausible that he was just really good at hiding, or maybe he was just a figment of your imagination. if either of those turn out to be the case, seonghwa will worry. you don’t want that, so you keep your theory to yourself.
“i’m just curious, hwa,” you offer him a smile, but you can tell he sees through it. he gives you a low hum, a single eyebrow cocking an question. the fake smile remains on your face, so he lets it go, understanding that he’s not going to get the truth out of you so easily.
“well, what do you want to know, my darling lamb?” he asks, using a long finger to hook some hair behind your ear, “you never know, i might just have the answers, hm?” the same hand settles on your cheek, palm cupping your face like you’re the most precious thing on earth.
you pause for a moment. what do you want to know about ghosts? you’d come to seonghwa with just the one question in mind; did they exist? he’d answered that one with ease and now you’re stuck on where to go next. realistically, you should probably focus on trying to find out whether the man in the living room was one or not; how on earth are you supposed to do that without revealing the truth?
seonghwa chuckles as he watches your expression contort onto one of concentration. it’s adorable, the way that your worry lines look between your brows. the way you tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, the white enamel now lined with the pretty pink gloss you reapplied not too long ago. if he didn’t think you looked entirely too cute like that, perhaps he’d tell you about it so you could wipe it away. for now, though, he’s happy to sit and bask in your sweetness.
“what’s so difficult about thinking up a question?” seonghwa leans forward to place a kiss to the tip of your nose when he finds that he can no longer hold himself back. the grin on his face as he pulls away is wide. “i can think of a million off the top of my head.”
you me face relaxes as he teases you. a deadpan glare is thrown in his direction, but it does nothing to faze him. he’s still watching you like you hold the world in your hands.
“like what?” you retaliate, mock annoyance laced through your tone.
“like,” he pauses for a second, pouting as he sorts through the wide array of cryptid knowledge that’s stored itself in his brain. you can practically see the lightbulb pop up above his head a few seconds later as he lands on something. “how do ghosts come into existence?”
“someone dies?” you shrug, and seonghwa lets out a chuckle.
“yes, but it’s so much more than that, lamb,” he smiles. there’s a hint of amusement in his face with the way the corners of his lips tilt up, but you ignore it in favour of looking into his adoring eyes. they’re mostly pupil, and the way the light bounces off of them causes them to shine like a hunk of whitby jet. you suck in a deep breath as you try to calm your racing heart. it almost aches with how much you love him. “if you died right now, there would have to be some sort of physical remains tying you to the real world; a lock of hair, or a splatter of blood.”
or the skin of an onikuma…
oh…
“jongho,” you mutter under your breath, suddenly feeling your chest grow tight at the realisation.
“your rug?” seonghwa tilts his head, “what about it?”
you gulp down the lump in your throat, letting it sit in your stomach as an uneasy ball of emotions instead. you don’t have the time nor energy to sift through them or unpack each of them individually. you’re so close to reaching the bottom of the mystery you’d stumbled upon; you won’t let feelings fuck it up now.
“he’s a demon,” you say, looking into seonghwa’s eyes for confirmation. he nods, “and hongjoong said demons have human forms too?”
“sometimes,” seonghwa concludes, “the onikuma… it’s probable that he disguised himself as a villager from time to time. it would’ve helped him scope his hunting ground better.”
jongho probably had a human form. that ball of emotions—is that excitement?—grows bigger.
“and if you were to kill a onikuma and, i don’t know, keep its hide as a trophy, would he come back as a ghost? do demons even have souls? do you even need a soul to be a ghost? what exactly is a soul?”
a hand slips over your racing mouth, effectively cutting your rambles short, shutting you up. seonghwa relaxedly sighs at the moment of peace.
“not even i understand the ins and outs of everything, my silly little lamb,” he snickers, a teasing smirk playing on his lips, “but i do think i understand what you’re trying to ask in your odd, roundabout way.” he pauses to slowly pull his hand away from your lips. his actions say that he trusts you to remain silent, the pace he’s going at tells you that he’s prepared to put his hand right back where it was if you start rambling again. it pleases him to see your lips sealed in a thin, annoyed line. he hums in amusement, “you know, your precious onikuma will probably come back if you call for him; ghosts like to know that the living still have a need for them.”
“you think?” you ask. seonghwa presses another short kiss to your lips, barely giving you time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away again.
“i know,” he murmurs, “now, go and talk to your bear; leave me to work in peace!”
——————————————
that’s how you end up back in the living room, cross legged on jongho’s back like you have been so many times before. the fire crackles behind you, filling the otherwise silent room with the comforting sound of burning wood. you take a deep breath through your nose, pushing it out through your mouth as you try and expel the anxiety that’s muddled itself with the excitement in your stomach.
“jongho?” you say, speaking the name given to him by you; his real name remained a mystery to you. there’s a cold blast of air behind you, and your neck twists at a whiplash pace, eyes landing on the fireplace. there’s nothing there but the white-hot logs and the flames dancing back and forth across them. it must’ve been a gust of wind down the chimney or something. nothing to frighten you at all.
you huff out a breath of relief before letting your head twist slowly back around…
“is that me?” a voice says as your eyes make contact with a pair of pupils that sit a little too close to be comfortable. you scramble back, a little squeak coming from your lips as you move away from the figure that has appeared in front of you. you come to a step just a foot or two away, chest heaving at the sudden fright the man had given you. if it weren’t for the mop of fuzzy brown hair that resembled the fur on your favourite rug a little too closely to be coincidence perhaps you’d have screamed for help. “jongho, i mean… is that my name?”
he tilts his head like a confused animal, tugging at the brown fur hide that rests upon his shoulders as if the action brings him some sort of comfort. and as you look into his eyes, you realise that he probably needs it. they’re wet, glittering with unshed tears of confusion and stress. he keeps blinking them away, but they come back almost instantly. it’s no surprise to you when the first one rolls down his cheek. he wastes no time in wiping it away.
“does that upset you?” you ask, cautiously, “that i’ve given you a name?”
he shakes his head vigorously.
“i’ve never had a name before,” he clarifies; the thought makes your chest ache. to be given a name is to be loved and this poor creature has none. no names, and therefore no love. you think for a moment about how long he’s lived with no love, but it only makes it hurt more. he was slain hundreds of years ago, and he was probably alive for hundreds more. your eyes begin to burn so you push that thought deep down inside of you. “jongho is a nice one to have as my first.”
your heart breaks for the creature. you’d have to have a talk with hongjoong later; how cruel of him to let his resident ghost go uncared for for so long.
“it is,” you try not to take notice of how strained your voice sounds, “and its yours; you’re jongho, if you’d like be.
the man nods, although the tension in his body doesn’t seem to seep away just yet. his shoulders are still hunched up by his ears, and his fingers still twirl the fur he’s wearing mindlessly. you find yourself grateful that it’s just you and him; you can’t bear to think how nervous he’d be if there was a werewolf looming over your shoulder.
“and… who are you?” he asks shyly, and you take a moment to think. within a few seconds, you settle on an answer and smile to yourself.
“a friend,” you reply.
#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez oneshot#ateez fluff#ateez scenarios#yeosang x reader#matz x reader#seonghwa x reader#hongjoong x reader#opposites attract universe#poly ateez#poly ateez x reader
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Could I have #88 and #97 with Captain Rex, pretty please...??
JUST MARRIED
PAIRING: Captain Rex x GN! Reader
#88 | “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…”
#97 | “I want you and I know you want me too.”
GENRE: Fluff
WARNING: none
A/N: Since I got prompted #88 by an anon who asked for no one in particular, I mixed up your request with theirs. Thanks for requesting!
MASTERLIST | MOMOJEDI'S 300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION
"Mhi solus tome,
Mhi solus dar’tome.
Mhi me’dinui an,
Mhi ba’juri verde."
Intense concentration furrows my brow as I massage my temples, striving to translate the unfamiliar words. "For fuck's sake," I mutter, frustration punctuating each syllable as I kick a nearby pebble with surprising strength, eliciting a muffled groan and the metallic clang of beskar as it ricochets off a distant helmet.
Two weeks may not seem long, especially when operating undercover among a terrorist faction whilst the galaxy is engulfed in war. It would probably be advisable to keep a cool head and avoid making a big deal out of insignificant subjects—such as unfamiliar phrases. However, when those words escape the lips of your longtime crush, delivered with an unexpected fervor while locking passionate eyes with you in a language foreign to your ears...
Well, needless to say, I've devoted more time to overthinking it than I care to admit.
When General Skywalker tasked us with shadowing Death Watch until the Jedi Council reached more intel, I hadn't given it much thought... admittedly, he hadn't specified that by "us" he didn't mean Ahsoka and me, as usual, but rather the captain of the 501st and myself—the very someone I've harboured feelings for since the day we met.
Nevertheless, I maintained my composure, played my part, and stayed under the radar, much like Rex, until Death Watch proposed an elaborate ceremony—a ceremony whose name I could barely pronounce, let alone understand its significance. Before any suspicion could arise, Rex quickly agreed in my place, and now here I am, entangled in some eerie ritual with a military captain whose gaze seemed entranced, so intense was his focus.
"If I had my datapad right now...," I hiss under my breath, casting blame on whoever decided I should leave my sole translation device behind. Likely Skywalker.
The crunch of gravel under heavy boots interrupts my daydreaming. I spin around sharply, only to find the very man haunting my mind approaching. "I figured I'd find you here," Rex hums as he settles beside me. "Yeah," I reply with a dry laugh, brushing the dust off my hands. "Sorry, I suppose I just needed... alone time. After everything yesterday, you know?" Rex's eyes widen almost comically, and he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "Oh... yeah."
The ensuing silence gnaws at my nerves, prompting me to pop the question after another agonising five minutes.
"Hey, about that... what did those words mean, anyway?"
"I'm not sure what you're referring to," Rex responds, avoiding my gaze. I gulp. He can't have forgotten, can he? "Come on, Rex... It seemed significant." After a moment's hesitation, Rex sighs, running a hand over his buzzcut before raising his head to face me, though still evading it.
"I..."
"Yes?"
"Alright, fine. [Name], don't panic, but... we might have accidentally... gotten married."
...
"WHAT?"
"Shh!" Rex quiets me with a gentle hand over my mouth, his eyes darting cautiously around us before he releases me. I shake my head slowly, puzzled. "Sorry, but what?" "The, um, the words... they were Mandalorian wedding vows," he admits, his tone tinged with uncertainty. I can't help but laugh. Married? Us?
"You're joking." "Unfortunately not," he replies, a slight smile tugging at his lips, before his expression shifts to sheepishness as he rubs the back of his neck. "Though I do believe you'd make an excellent partner." Suppressing a chuckle, I ignore the warmth creeping into my cheeks.
"Actually, I realized we needed a distraction when I overheard some members gossiping behind our backs. They were growing suspicious, so I thought perhaps they'd relax if we participated in some traditions." Rex sighs, examining a pebble he's picked up. I shoot him a hopeful sidelong glance before quickly looking away, feeling my heart quicken.
Force, this man is captivating.
Silence envelops us once more as we both drift deeper into our own thoughts. When I sense the gravel shifting under his weight, I raise an eyebrow. "It wouldn't bother me, you know?" A lump forms in my throat, causing a series of coughs to escape at his words. "Wh-what?" "Being with you." Suddenly, his warm yet weighty hand finds mine. Sweat prickles at my heated skin as I keep my gaze fixed ahead.
"R-rex, are you suggesting...?"
"[Name]," he interrupts, turning to face me. Before I can evade his gaze, he gently lifts my chin, compelling me to meet his eyes. I run my tongue over my dry lips, which his gaze is now fixated on. "I want you. And I know you want me, too." His proximity sends shivers down my spine as goosebumps ripple over my arms and back. His newfound confidence is palpable. "I've noticed the way you look at me, how you stare. I know, [name]," he murmurs against my lips, "what do you think?"
I flush, gripping his wrist as I lock eyes with his warm gaze.
"I think you're right." Rex chuckles deeply, resonating like a rumble in his chest. "Good." And before I realize it, his lips meet mine,
Time seems to slip away as I surrender completely to the kiss. Eventually, Rex pulls back, leaving me breathless, and flashes me a mischievous grin.
“So, about that wedding night…”
#star wars#the bad batch#clone wars#bad batch#star wars the clone wars#the clone wars#star wars clone wars#tbb#star wars the bad batch#momojedis 300 follower celebration#clone trooper rex#star wars captain rex#clone captain rex#captain rex#clone troopers#rex x reader#reader insert#captain rex x reader#x reader#gender neutral reader#clone wars x reader#tbb x reader#bad batch x reader#Star Wars x reader#my writing
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tbh I was kinda shocked that so may people got to Act 3 without figuring out that the Dream Guardian was an illusion, and more so that they didn't figure out it's either a gith or a mindflayer
by the time I left the creche I was like "okay so either Orpheus is in the box or a Mind Flayer is in the box"
and a lot of people seemed betrayed by it and really hate on the Emperor but I clocked within the first interaction this was a "I'm using an image I believe will be non-threatening and appealing to you" situation. maybe it's just because I'm an older nerd who remembers this being a common sci fi trope but I recognised it very quickly and I never put any moral value behind the strategy. I was just like oh he's doing that thing aliens do in sci fi a lot
on this run I'm actually noticing that DG/Emperor is preeeetty fucking honest with you, all things considering. he tells you that the power he's using to keep you safe was stolen, for instance, and that the reason the Prism is being attacked is because they want it back
which sounds "no duh" but I got into the habit of skipping dialogue after my dozenth fucking run and somehow I had the impression that he lies to you about the power, but he doesn't
if anything every conversation with him is like
"this is everything I can tell you, what I'm doing, how I'm doing it, and why we're doing it. understand?"
and then most of the time he has to deal with responses like "I SLICE OFF YOUR HAND HEHEHEH", "prove that you are not my intrusive thoughts personified", "okay but tell me who you REALLY are(has already tried to answer this)", "I'm not listening lalalalalala", "you look stressed out actually do you want a massage? ;)", "I know you said NOT to do the obviously bad thing that will endanger us, but I'm bored so I'm going to do the obviously bad thing."
sorry I have nothing but unending sympathy for this poor creature
#bg3 emperor#the emperor#I don't know how to tag this without being a spoiler to someone who hasn't reached act 3 so those are the tags I'm using#people always say he lies to you but I feel like that's pretty grey#he's lying by omission yeah#but 90% of that is literally just “alien being trying to communicate with another species without freaking them out” trope
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hiiii bucktommy anon here who is tired of the buddie stans. may i just add one thing, which i hope brings a bit of a positive twist into this entire fandom discourse situation?
in all my years of being in fandoms like this, especially regarding shipping, i always knew that i hit the jackpot with my interpretations for endgame couples when the hate for some side character love interest who is said to be ""sooo unimportant"" was the most extreme and all the antis were talking about. because listen. if buddie shippers were absolutely secure in the endgame-ness of their ship, they would not give a single fuck about tommy or bucktommy because it would not pose any threat. it'd be a blip in buck's story that will never matter past a few meaningless episodes, except for the fact that it canonized bisexual buck. (which ignores the problem that buddie has a much bigger problem: eddie is still very much straight, and the possibility of him also being confirmed bisexual someday is dwindling, but that's another topic lol).
but look at all the hate that's suddenly coming from everywhere. that tells me that ultimately, all buddie shippers agree with our interpretations and see/feel the exact same thing as we do: tommy is very strong candidate for buck's endgame love story in the canon narrative.
and idk about you, but when the entire buddie fandom seems to agree with us, in their hateful roundabout way, well! i think it's time to celebrate, my fellow bucktommys!!! (sorry, i being a bit petty here but the amount of hate i have to block these days just makes it impossible not to be ;;;)
That's a nice way to look at it, anon 🧡 Thank you for the positivity!
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More fae!Gaz, he's so boyfriend, he's always there when you need him. Even if you didn't know he'd be there or that you'd need him! That's just how great he is!
You duck under an awning to escape the sudden downpour, already soaked to the bone. You look out at the pouring rain, tip your head to try and get a glimpse at how the clouds are moving, and sigh. You'll just have to wait it out. You wish you'd brought your umbrella.
The door beside you chimes, and there's the click fwump of an umbrella being opened. You glance at the man looking out at the rain, you recognize him. You've had a few conversations with him. Not friends, not even acquaintances, but not strangers either. What was his name again?
Something whispers through your mind, bounces and echoes: Gaz, Gaz, Gaz.
"Gaz?" You confirm. He turns to looks at you, and his eyes spark with recognition. He smiles and you smile back.
"Hey there sunshine," Gaz grins, his eyes drag over you, bounce across your chest and the way your soaked shirt clings to you, "gone for a swim?"
You laugh, shake your head and then shake it harder to try and get some of the water off it. You don't know how rain always feels so much colder and wetter than regular water, but you can feel it drip off you thickly. Gaz laughs, it sounds like chocolate. You don't- you don't know how to describe it. It's like chocolate. Rich and sweet, but dark with a hint of bitterness that makes you want to hear it again and again. You find yourself staring at him, pushing your hair off your forehead to stop the water from rolling down into your eyes. Already you've had to blink away the drops that settled on your lashes.
"Didn't bring my umbrella," you explain. Gaz nods, the cocks his head back towards the shop door.
"S'why I stopped in for one."
"Smart, don't know why I didn't think of that." You watch the rain fall for a moment, before you're struck with recollection. "We live in the same building right?" Gaz hums.
"You knocked on my door for a cuppa once." You nod and he shifts his grip on the umbrella, holding it between you. "You asking to share?"
"Could save me a few pounds," You're only half joking, stepping closer until your shoulder brushes his.
"What if I'm not headed for the tube?" You look up at Gaz, watch him cock a brow curiously. He never loses his smile. Something itches in the back of your mind, warning you against friendly strangers. Something else quiets it, pets the scared animal into submission with that soft echoing whisper: Gaz, Gaz, Gaz.
"Then you can just drop me off at the nearest station and be on your way," you reason. That seems to amuse him, something sparking in his eyes that lights up his smile. He's warm. Green. Natural. You can smell the dirt of a nearby flower pot, the dust of the city. Petrichor, your brain supplies. The smell of dust after rain.
Mentally you kick yourself. From a fucking Doctor Who episode ya numpty. Trying to sound poetic when you're just quoting a damn- and it's not even an episode you liked! Ugh.
Gaz taps your forehead, two gentle taps that make you blink. There's something familiar in the gesture, friendly in a way that's overly friendly for how close you aren't.
"Looked like you were getting lost in there," he says when you smack your hand against the tapped skin.
"Well throw down a rope then," you grumble. Your therapist is right you gotta start being more present. This is why you get caught in the rain, too busy day dreaming.
"How about I get you home first," Gaz jokes.
"Just to the station is fine," you tell him, hurrying to stay under the umbrella as he starts walking. Gaz shrugs, the umbrella shifts, and you press closer to avoid soaking your shoulder a second time.
"I'm going home anyway, may as well take you with me."
You roll your eyes. An alarm bell rings in the back of your mind, smothered by a thick magic that whispers to you: Gaz, Gaz, Gaz.
#cod x reader#x reader#x oc#cod x oc#1fae1#kyle garrick#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz modern warfare#gaz garrick#gaz cod#gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#gn!reader#oc: sunshine#fae!gaz#ooooh sunny hes getting his claws in you#insidious magic this man weaves#im already in his car
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I was wondering if a spell would work if I just . Made it up? Like using correspondences and all, and just doing it in a way that makes sense to me, do you perhaps think it would work? Or is it necessary to follow a proper spell from someone who is more experienced? Sorry if this is a dumb question ily you're awesome thank you for being so wonderful all the time x
Anon, dear anon, this is the art of spell work. The great thing about art is that anyone can do it. How do you think most people on Tumblr get the spells they create posts for? They have to make them and (usually) cast them. And you should absolutely create your own spells. They'll make more sense for you in the long run, you'll get some practice under your belt, and you'll be able to figure out what didn't work!
And who's the "more experienced" person in this case? More years of being a magical practitioner? Well, years of existing as one does not equal years of active effort. More years studying spell work specifically? Studying doesn't necessarily yield results without practice. They seem more knowledgeable about [stones/plants/whatever]? They learned that through study and practice, and you can do that too! They have a bunch of fancy titles? If you're not in the exact same branch of practice that they are, those titles mean diddly squat! You look up to them? We're all here on Tumblr. None of us can take the high road.
I am a wizard who firmly believes in the addage of "fuck around and find out". If you're worried about something like spell backfire/malfunction, then practice on spells that won't have catastrophic consequences. (One of my earliest spells that I designed was a Pokemon-based spell jar for luck. Even if it didn't work, it wouldn't be catastrophic, ya know?)
Now, if you're working in a specific paradigm that requires particular things for spells, that may be more tricky and I cannot assist because I operate in no such paradigm. But that doesn't seem to be the case based on how you phrased your ask, so I won't try getting into that.
Here's a link to a tag full of spell work resources.
As a final and very broad note, I am not an authority on magic and do not want to be treated as such. I'm happy to shoot the shit over any topic, but please don't see me as a teacher or - worse! - an influencer. I just exist in my little blogs and talk about my little blorbos. (I'm not saying you, anon in particular, are treating me as such, I just have to add this disclaimer to just about everything nowadays.)
~Jasper
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