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sant-riley · 1 year

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[Random Task force 141 × gen z! member headcanons]

A/N: Reader goes by the codename Teddy in my writing! Along with she/her pronouns :) I am also extremely biased with Ghost so her main pairing is more towards with him compared to the others <3. I know absolutely nothing about the military so this is not accurate I am so sorry💀.

CWs: Dark Humor, Age gaps, Simping, crude humor, cursing. (not sure what else but lmk!)

Chances are, you're the youngest in the entirety of Task Force 141. Just a good couple of years younger than Gaz.

When Laswell brought her in to meet the group, they couldn't help but stare at her in confusion. A tiny girl who couldn't have been older than any of them. Soap couldn't help but chuckle while Ghost nudged him in the side to shut him up.

"This is your new rookie on the team, her callsign is Teddy. Treat her well."

All the men nodded, watching the younger woman shyly smile and wave towards them.

First they realized that her humor was, in Ghost's words, fucked.

Any minor inconvenience had her saying she wanted to be hit by a car or some type of bodily harm, Price quickly whirling around with eyes widened. "Now, I don't think that warranted that kind of response, don't you think?" "Oh it definitely did, Captain." And she'd walk away without another word.

He swears he gets gray hairs from everytime you make casual talk of you dying. He actively tells the others to check on you bc he genuinely don't know if you're serious or not.

Ghost is not up to date with shit, man uses no social medias oncesoever so everything she spouts is wildly out of pocket. References to basic things like tiktok, Twitter, Instagram? He just silently stares at you like you're on drugs. You can't really use your personal phone on base but you try your best to explain memes to him. He sighs and rubs his forehead with a groan of "I'm too old for this shit, teds." "Oh come on! You have to at LEAST know the meme about the marines eating crayons!" "What the fuck are you on about?

The only ones who know vaguely what the fuck you're on about sometimes are Gaz and Soap, despite them still being a few years older.

Granted, they are not caught up with everything but they actively make it a point on leave to try and be up to date bc of you and your mannerisms. Plus it makes you happy when they fire back a quote they learned.

Can yall imagine Soap on tiktok, what random shit he'd have on his fyp bc he doesn't know how the algorithm works 😭.

Teddy has made every single one of them a personal playlist when she does have her phone, Soap once caught her adding songs and hasn't stopped teasing her since. Price and Ghost pretend not to care and barks at Soap to leave her alone but they're equally curious. Ghost contemplates stealing her phone to see it.

Doesn't matter how serious or dark their job may be, you simp for fictional characters, loudly. Price has learned to tune it out, Ghost although slightly jealous, finds it endearing, Gaz and Soap indulge you and will actively ask about why you like the characters you do and how much you love them bc they like to see you excited. It's a nice feeling when they're always in life or death missions.

You're the smallest one in here okay, everyone can easily throw you without batting an eye so they all take turns training you! They all despite knowing you can take care of yourself, would still like to teach you all they know so should you come against a taller/stronger opponent, you'll be okay.

You are the most protected person in the entire squad, esp when going out for drinks, Ghost will put you in the middle between him and Price and basically make a wall of muscle around you. He says he doesn't care and that he just doesn't want to be pestered by creepy people coming up to you but he will literally stare down any man or woman who even tries. He is the creepy one in everyone else's scenario. Soap just laughs and tosses back his drink.

They all notice your ticks and tells, seeing your leg start to shake when you're anxious, when you start cracking your fingers when you're restless, how you will avoid eye contact at any cost. They start to find ways to soothe you in their own ways. Price will give you a pat on your shoulder, sending you a smile.

Gaz nudges you with his body to take your attention off the situation, or he'll simply start asking you random dumbass questions just to see your face change.

Soap will, if he has gotten permission before, just pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, running around with you while you scream for him to let you go. Is also not against tickling you straight up to get you to smile.

Ghost tried to be as subtle as he can be. If yall are sitting close to each other, he'll make sure some part of his body is gently pressed against yours. Whether it be his foot, thigh, hand, some part of him will ground you. You try and reassure him that you know he doesn't care for personal touch but he just says to shut up.

Meeting Graves was a trip, for everyone involved besides you and Grave. Absolutely having no control over calling him a irl Fix it Felix. You were on Graves shitlist and honestly you wouldn't be surprised he betrayed yall for that one comment bc of how angry it made him.

Constantly being told to be quiet, but you cannot help it and will make little quips over comms. Ghost takes after you and starts to say horrible "dad" jokes that make you choke trying to hold back. Soap hates both of you and calls you unfunny.

They realize you're impulsive, especially when you show the amount of tattoos you have.

"I joined the military to fund my tattoo addiction." "You know what? That's not even a surprise."

Going home on leave is always a bitter experience, you never look excited to go home. So one of the guys (usually ghost) will offer you to come with them. It helps 3/4 all live somewhere in England so it's easy to see them/ take trips to their place.

They're all attached despite knowing better. They can't help it and they know they care for you so much more than other force members.

Ghost and Soap bristle when Alejandro makes a mention that he'd offer you a spot in his team, impressed with how you can take opponents twice your size.

"¿Te interesaría quedarte en México?"

"The Hell she will."

If you'd like to be tagged in future works, please comment under my rules that are pinned to my blog!

#okay this got rambley real quick but hey its my blog i can do what i want #ghost <3 #soap <3 #price <3 #gaz <3 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #gen z!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #headcanon #kayla writes <3 #fem reader

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wolken-himmel · 1 year

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In which (Y/n) tells the dorm leaders that they're the most handsome person in Twisted Wonderland.

What was meant as an April Fool's joke somehow turns Night Raven College into a battlefield.

Idea by anon.

"Why did you go around and tell the dorm leaders out of all people that they're the most handsome person in the world? Why, (Y/n)?"

Deuce paced back and forth between the fire place and the couch of Ramshackle's living room, his hands crossed behind back. The frown on his face deepened even more when he found you lazily lounging on a nearby recliner.

"I thought it would be funny to see everyone's reaction!" you said and laughed to yourself. "And actually, seeing Riddle turn as red as his hair was hilarious. Also, you should have heard Idia's screaming through the tablet."

Ace's lips quirked upwards into a grin. "Okay, that does sound funny."

"Quit the yapping," Grim yelled from the other side of the living room. He had a few wooden boards in his arms and a hammer balanced on top. "I need help barricading the windows."

"Right." A hum of exasperation escaped Deuce's lips while he pointed into the direction where all the commotion was coming from. The noise must have originated from the main building, and the fact that it was still audible in the Ramshackle mansion was incredibly concerning. "I don't think you realise how dire the situation is out there."

"Did someone call me?" a newcomer suddenly asked.

All four of you whirled around to find Crowley standing by the entrance to the living room. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest. Without allowing you any time to react to his sudden appearance, he rushed over to your side with wide steps. His heavy shadow loomed over you.

"Oh, it's just you, Headmaster," you began and sat up. "How are you—"

He interrupted you with a dramatic sigh. "You truly offend me, my darling child." Without further explanation, he put his hand to his forehead and sank into the couch, right next to you.

"What?" You sat up straight. "What have I done now?"

"You go around telling the dorm leaders that they're the most handsome person in the world! But you forgot about me?" A playfully offended frown decorated his face. When the resident ghosts dared to peek around the corner in curiosity, he addressed them immediately, "Did the prefect also compliment you three?"

"Of course!" the ghost in the middle exclaimed dreamily. His eyes practically took the shape of hearts when he put his hands to his chest. "My heart began beating so quickly, I thought I had come back from the dead. The prefect truly has a way with charming people, dead or alive."

His reply had the headmaster sink into the cushions of his seat even further. "Oh, how you wound me..."

Deuce furrowed his eyebrows in innocent confusion. "Is that why you came here, Headmaster?"

At his words, Crowley lazily rose to his feet again and straightened his cloak. "Partly, yes." He cleared his throat, although he sent you one last glare before moving on, "I also came because the entire campus is a warzone. The dorms have decided to band together and fight against each other to defend their leader's honour. Everyone thinks the others are lying."

"See?" Grim pointed to the windows he had already barricaded. "And you think I'm the one overreacting?"

The volume of his voice had you rolling your eyes. "Calm down, everyone." Then, you finally summoned the willpower to rise to your feet. "Can't I just talk to them?"

"You must, since you are the perpetrator."

A rush of annoyance came over you. The constant noise from the main building caused a headache to form. You rubbed the bridge of your nose. "It was just an April Fool's joke... I didn't think anyone would take it this seriously," you muttered in resignation. "These boys... Fine, I'll go out and clear things up."

Grim stopped you before you could leave the living room. His large blue eyes shone meaningfully. "Henchhuman, just in case you don't return, I wanted to tell you that..." he trailed off and took your hand into his paws. "I'll be taking your favourite scarf! You won't need it anymore, right?"

At once, you ripped your hands out of his grasp. "You're an idiot, Grim," you grumbled and simply walked around him to exit the building.

Deuce came rushing after you. "We'll accompany you, (Y/n). That's what friends are there for."

"Really? Do we have to?" Ace asked with raised eyebrows. He seemed reluctant, still remaining by the fire place where he had last stopped pacing. But even he wasn't immune to Deuce's pressing gaze, and with the headmaster joining in, he was done for. Begrudingly throwing his hands into the air, he joined your side. "Fine..."

"I'll stay here," Grim yelled after the three of you, "to make sure they don't break in and steal my tuna."

"They're in the Hall of Mirrors. Please stop them before they destroy my prized mirrors!"

"I knew you were a schemer, Azul. But I didn't take you for a liar."

"You call me a liar, Riddle? Me and my business are very much trustworthy. The same couldn't be said about you, though."

You arrived in the Hall of Mirrors not a second too late. The place was packed to the brim with students from every dorm. Just blinking once had been enough to lose track of Ace and Deuce. And by now, you had given up on finding them in this huge mass of people. You would have never thought that you would one day see so many people fit into this hall. But here you were, struggling to make your presence known with the loud and large crowd.

You could already see most of the dorm leaders facing off against each other in the very middle, where the students had formed a pit. But none of them seemed to hear your voice over all the murmuring.

"Come on, let's get this over with quickly," Leona said and rolled his eyes. "As soon as we have established that you're all in the wrong, I can go back to doing something more productive, such as napping."

"Guys, why can't we all be the most handsome person in the world together? I'd be open to sharing the title," Kalim said in worry when he noticed how everyone's voice dripped with malice.

"As a matter of fact, 'most handsome' is the superlative form and implies that the title is exclusively reserved for one person only." Everyone's eyes solely lay on Malleus as he spoke, his deep and calm voice bouncing off the walls to reach your ears. The air turned cold out of a sudden, and nobody dared to whisper even a single word — not even you.

But Rook dared to cut through the tangible air with his cheery voice. "Oh, a fight for beauty! This battle will be legendary!" he exclaimed in excitement, as if he had been born for this very moment. "I will gladly defend your honour, Vil."

His dorm leader didn't seem to reciprocate his enthusiasm, however. "Quit it, Rook. We all know that the prefect's compliment for all of us was in mere vain — a joke to gauge our reaction," Vil said and flicked his wrist elegantly. "Tell everyone to return to whatever they were doing previously, I have more important matters to attend to."

"Ortho, can you get me more popcorn—" a voice came from the floating tablet in the first row. An embrassed shriek escaped its speakers once everyone turned their attention to it. "Oh, I forgot to mute... Sorry, everyone." And on cue, the speakers went silent.

An awkward cough went through the crowd, but the dorm leaders quickly returned to facing off against each other.

"So, shall we begin?"

"I suppose."

Just as one was about to make the first move, you managed to stumble into the middle of the pit. "No, stop it!" you yelled at the top of your lungs.

A round of gasps went through the crowd, and everyone's eyes widened in surprise at your sudden arrival. Vil was the only exception. "Ah, the prefect has arrived," the dorm leader drawled. Knowing chuckles escaped his perfectly painted lips. "Now, would you mind enlightening the others about your little joke?"

"Right, tell the others who you really think is the most handsome."

"Yes, I want to see the grins wiped off their faces."

You hated yourself after having gazed upon their expectant faces. Most of them wore a pair of puppy eyes that gleamed brightly with eagerness. Unable to face them, you lowered your gaze in shame. "Actually, I told every one of you that you were the most handsome person in Twisted Wonderland." Nervous chuckles escaped your lips when the entire hall went deadly silent. You raised your hands into the air defensively. "Please, it was just a joke. Today is April Fool's, guys."

Riddle clicked his tongue. "A punishment for unfunny jokes is in order."

"You hurt our feelings, (Y/n)!" Kalim cried out and put his hands on his hips. When Jamil handed him a handkerchief, the dorm leader blew his nose loudly.

An unreadable smile appeared on Azul's face. "Perhaps it is time we banded together," he suggested, as if negotiating for a contract.

Your smile turned more nervous by the second, especially when they began to circle you. "Guys? It was kinda funny, don't you think?" you said, suddenly unable to hold in your laughter anymore. "Your reactions were priceless."

"Get the prefect!" everyone yelled at once.

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #reader insert #y/n #disney twst #twst x you #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #leona kingscholar #kalim al asim #idia shroud #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #deuce spade #ace trappola #gender neutral reader

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candy69gurl · 11 days

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POV: You are Sukuna's Vessel 4

Warnings- mentions of blood, self harm

wc- 1.7k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6

You stir, your head pounding as you find yourself in a dimly lit room. Your vision swims, your body protesting as you try to sit up.

You hear familiar voices, a sense of relief washing over you as you recognize them.

Gojo, Megumi, and Nobara, standing just outside the door,. Gojo's voice is filled with concern, Megumi's with worry, and Nobara's with anger mix with grief.

You listen intently, straining to hear their conversation.

"... How can there be a highly special grade curse in such a friendly competition?", Nobara asks, her voice quivering.

"I mean yes, there were a few special curse meant for you all guys to handle together as a team, but we did not expect death of any competitor" Gojo says, his voice filled with sadness.

"We must always be vigilant," Megumi adds, his voice filled with concern.

"Momo Nishimiya's death is mysterious", Yuji speaks.

You swallow hard, the gravity of the situation hitting you.

"What do you mean by she is dead?" you call out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Their heads snap towards the sound of your voice, their faces lighting up with relief.

"Y/N!" Nobara exclaims, rushing to your side.

"Are you alright?" Megumi asks, his eyes filled with worry.

"Yes I am alright but I don't understand, how is she dead?", your eyebrows frown with concern.

Gojo steps forward, his eyes filled with sympathy, "It appears there was a highly special grade curse in the mix, it killed Momo," he explains, his voice somber.

"We found Nishimiya's dead body a few distance away from your dead body. Thankfully, no one else got hurt." he adds. "But for now, you all can return to your rooms." Gojo says, extending a hand to help you up.

As you stand, you can see Yuji staring daggers at you.

"Is something wrong?", you ask Yuji..

"N-no nothing", Yuji laughs giving you an awkward smile.

You follow the group back to your room, your thoughts whirling with the day's events.

Yuji's behavior towards you feels off, the air thick with tension.

In your room, you collapse onto your bed, your exhaustion finally catching up to you.

Yuji lingers by the doorway, his eyes fixed on you for a few seconds then finally leaving.

Once everyone has left the room, you can't help but feel a sense of unease.

Something's off. Presence of a highly special grade curse, Momo Nishimiya's death and Yuji's strange behavior hangs heavy in the air.

You decide to take a shower but the thought of Sukuna seeing your naked body, stops you.

"Don't worry brat, I am not going to see your body", Sukuna replies.

"Stop reading my mind", you speak back to him in your mind.

"Oh I cannot help it", he chuckles.

You shake your head, trying to clear your mind as you undress, stepping into the shower. The warm water cascades over you, washing away the grime and stress of the day.

You try to focus on the soothing feel of the water, ignoring the feeling of being watched. "Sukuna stop I can feel your eyes watching me."

"I swear I'm not looking," he says, his voice filled with mischief. "But it's hard not to look, your body looks so soft, gentle, and vulnerable." Sukuna adds, his voice dripping with amusement.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the sensation of being watched.

"Just leave me alone," you say, your voice tinged with frustration

"Hmm.. I wish I were in my real form infront of you, I would have-", his words interrupted by you,

"I don't want to hear your non sense."

Sukuna's laughter echoes in your mind, his voice fading as he withdraws a bit.

You step out of the shower, reaching for a towel to dry your hair. As you dry off, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, your skin flushed from the heat of the shower. You run a hand through your hair, trying to smooth it down. Your skin prickles as Sukuna's mouth forms on your cheek,

"Don't you think your hair makes you look weak?" he asks, his voice filled with amusement

You jump, your heart racing at the sudden appearance of his mouth.

"Stop it!", you snap, your voice shaking with anger and fear. "And I know it's perfect," your breath hitches.

"Oh brat I just wanted to give you some suggestions," he says, his voice filled with mock contrition.

"Do you think I need it?", you reply.

"Fine brat if you want it that way."

You slip into bed, your exhaustion finally getting the better of you. As you drift off to sleep, you can't help but wonder what tomorrow will bring. The weight of the day's events and Sukuna's presence still lingers, but for now, you'll rest.

Midnight comes, and once again, Sukuna takes control of your body. He pads over to the mirror, his reflection staring back at him. He runs a hand through your hair, his eyes narrowing in thought.

"Brat really thinks she can do disobey me, the king of curses," he murmurs, his fingers idly playing with a lock of hair.

He glances at your body, "I'll show you who's the owner of this body."

He sighs, his eyes flicking over your physique, "I mean you would have been killed today if it's not for me" he adds, his voice filled with amusement "You have the guts to order me around. I'm going to teach you a lesson. You care about your hair so much, let's see what I can do to ruin it."

He rummages through your drawer, finally finding a pair of scissors.

With a decisive snip, he starts cutting your hair. It falls in clumps to the floor, the sight making you wince even in sleep.

He continues until your hair is as short as he can get. A brutal bob that makes you look like a completely different person. He examines his handiwork, his eyes narrowing in approval

"Not bad, but I think we need to do more" he mumbles to himself "but I still look so weak."

Sukuna gets to work again, trimming your hair into a boy cut. The transformation is dramatic, your appearance changing drastically.

When he finishes, he tosses the scissors back into the drawer. "Better," he says, his eyes appraising your new look.

"Now this body needs to get trained," he adds, a wicked grin forming on his face. "But for today this is enough. This will finally make you understand, who is the owner of this body."

He runs his hands over your new odd-looking hairstyle, then slides down to your breasts and squeezes them slightly. Walking back to the bed, he lays down, relinquishing control over your body.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the unfamiliar sensation against your neck. You reach up, your fingers encountering the short crop of hair.

Panic rises in your chest as you realize what has happened. You rush to the bathroom, your heart hammering as you gaze into the mirror.

The reflection staring back at you is a stranger, your hair cropped into a weird ass boy cut. Your stomach twists in panic, your mouth going dry.

"Sukuna!" you shout mentally.

"I gave you a present, vessel" he says, his voice filled with mirth. "You needed a change, don't you think?"

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your pounding heart. "Why did you do this?", you ask, anger rising in your voice.

"Because it was annoying me during fights," he replies, his voice carefree. "And also you should thank me, I made you look more handsome, right?"

You stare at your reflection, not sure how to respond. Tears well up in your eyes, panic flooding you. You swallow hard, your hands shaking as you touch your new haircut. Your heart races as you contemplate the situation.

"You need to accept it, brat," Sukuna says, his voice calm "I own this body of yours."

You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

"I hate you, Sukuna," you say, your voice trembling with emotion "Why do you keep doing messing with my body?"

"Because your body is my vessel," he replies, his voice unrepentant "and you accepted that didn't you?"

You clench your fists, your anger and humiliation rising.

"Come to think of it, why do feel that you are to blame for Nishimiya's death?", now you are speaking aloud.

Sukuna laughs, and his laughter only makes you angrier, "I had no idea that your subconscious mind is this powerful."

"You shouldn't have done that," you snap, your voice shaking. You finally realize the reason for Nishimiya's mysterious death, "Do you have any idea how guilty I feel right now?"

"I can understand but I really don't care", he answers in a nonchalant tone.

You take a deep breath, trying to find your composure.

"You don't care huh.. What's gonna happen if I just die and don't allow you to take control" you say, your voice cracking in anger.. Your eyes drift back to the mirror infront of you. With a cry of rage, you smash your fist into the mirror, shattering it. Blood wells from your fingers, but you ignore the pain. You grip a shard of glass, your eyes wild with fury. Your heart races as you raise the shard, aiming for your chest.

"What are you doing?", Sukuna says, his voice alarmed.

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "If I die, you die" you say, your voice breaking.

Sukuna hisses in your mind, his voice filled with malice. "Stupid brat, you won't kill me," he snarls, his voice filled with venom. "You'll only kill yourself!"

Your hand trembles, the shard poised above your chest.

"If you die, the curse will transfer to someone else, Yuji consumed only 4 fingers, there are 16 more," Sukuna says, a mocking tone lingers in his voice. He knows you will never hurt yourself.

For a moment, the room is silent, the tension suffocating. "I am sorry I don't want to be live like this." You thrust the sharp tip into your chest, a scream tearing from your lips. Blood gushes from the wound, your vision swimming with pain.

Sukuna rages in your mind, his voice filled with fury. "You idiot! You stupid brat!" he roars "Give me the control right now!"

As your world fades to black, you can feel him struggling for control. His power surging through you as he fights to hold on to his vessel.

In the end, it's too late. Blackness claims you, your consciousness slipping away.

Taglist : @moonlightazriel @unholiiness @nyxlai @cocoaxbunny @persephone-lilly @iraa567 @rabbidbunwy @sweetchildcloud @lotus-n-l0ve @smashhed @imhellakawai @loveoreos @selfloverrrrrr

Dividers from @cafekitsune

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afewproblems · 8 months

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So it's my birthday today, and I originally wanted to try out the microfic challenge for this month's prompt - cake, but this drabble definitely got away from me! So, please enjoy this little Steddie bday gift to me and to everyone else in the fandom ❤️

🎂🎂🎂

Eddie wipes his cheek with the crook of his arm, as he pours the finished batter into the first greased cake pan on the counter. His shirt sleeve comes away from his face dusted with the same flour that covers almost every inch of the Harrington's kitchen.

Robin turns a page of the open cookbook on the counter, her eyes scan down the page, "the icing recipe is on this page, did you take the butter out?"

Eddie groans loudly and as he pours the rest of the batter into the second pan, knowing that the other block of butter is still sitting in the fridge on the top shelf.

"If you didn't remember, what makes you think I did," he grumbles, running his pointer finger along the edge of the now empty bowl before popping a large dollop of batter into his mouth.

It's perfect, and Steve deserves nothing but perfect.

Steve who confided in Robin that he hadn't had a birthday cake since he was twelve years old, let alone anything made from scratch.

Made with love.

Not that Steve needs to know that…or Robin for that matter.

Eddie hazards a quick glance at the clock on the stove, they should have time to give everything a wipe down before--

"Guys?" A voice calls out as the front door unlatches and swings open.

Robin whirls around in a panic, grabbing to recipe book and tossing it into the cupboard beneath the sink while Eddie picks up the mixing bowl and shoves the rest of the dirty dishes into the sink.

"Their shoes are still here," the voice continues, soft and contemplative this time as Eddie turns too quickly, colliding with Robins side.

He fumbles with the mostly clean mixing bowl in his hands, watching as it slips through his fingers and clatters loudly across the floor, flinging chocolate batter across the tile and baseboards before rolling to a stop beside a pair of socked feet.

Eddie looks up from the feet to see Steve standing in the kitchen entrance with a bewildered expression on his face.

He's in the middle of taking off his Family Video vest. Steve's shirt rises to reveal a slim patch of skin, his eyes shift from the bowl, to Eddie, before landing eventually on the oven.

"Well…it looks like you two had a busy afternoon," Steve says slowly as his mouth curls into a fond grin that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. He pulls at the bottom of his shirt, stealing the hint of golden skin that has Eddie practically drooling in the kitchen.

God he's so unfairly pretty it hurts.

Eddie barks out a laugh and steps forward to block the view of the two pans on the counter.

"You know what they say about idle hands," Eddie laughs, his voice tinged with panic as he wiggles his fingers. He winces even as he says it and quickly drops his hands, god could he be any more of an ass?

He spots Robin standing to the side with clear panic on her face, mouthing the words, 'Get Him Outta Here' with wide eyes.

And, well, never let it be said that Eddie Munson couldn't think on the spot.

Steve tries to walk further into the kitchen as he drapes his vest on the island, "okay, you two are being more weird than normal what's--"

It's like Eddie moves on instinct, his hands dart out to cup Steve's cheek and the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

Steve's startled gasp is muffled by Eddie's mouth as he walks them backwards until Steve is over the threshold and back in the living room once more.

Steve is frozen, tense, against Eddie and shit, he can't believe he tried this shit, he's so getting punched for this.

But then, Steve seems to relax slightly as he crowds closer into Eddie's space. His lips part as Steve breathes out a low moan.

Two broad hands come up to circle Eddie's hips, they squeeze once as Steve slots a leg between Eddie's own.

And holy shit, Eddie feels his brain go offline as Steve takes charge of the kiss, walking them backwards until Eddie is pressed against the wall of the living room.

It's good, so good, it's like something out of his dreams, the hot slide of lips against his own as Steve nips at his bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth to sooth the bite with his tongue.

"Fuck," it's Eddie's turn to moan this time as Steve pulls back slightly to run his nose along the crest of Eddie's cheek. Steve's right hand is splayed beside his head, against the wall, while the other rises to thread long fingers into Eddie's curls.

"You taste like chocolate," Steve hums softly against Eddies lips, "good choice for birthday cake".

Eddie winces, surpressing a groan, "Shit, you saw the pans?"

Steve laughs as he pulls back further and lifts his hand away from the wall to gesture behind him at the foyer.

"I mean, I saw the birthday bag and decorations you two left at the door?"

"God Dammit!" Robin yells from the kitchen; Steve snorts at the string of muttered expletives she continues to spout and shakes his head.

"I wasn't expecting a birthday kiss though," Steve continues after a beat, a small crease in the middle of his brow grows the longer he looks at Eddie with nervous eyes.

Oh.

It's Eddie's turn to grin now, he snags a handful of hair to pull over his face, hiding the pink flush he can feel spreading from his cheeks to his ears.

"Oh yeah, I mean, that was just a sample, see if you, uh, liked it or not," Eddie says softly. He steps closer, emboldened by the way Steve's breath hitches.

"I did," Steve whispers, "like it, I mean, a lot," a light pink flush rises in his cheeks to match Eddie's own blush.

"Ugh, get a room dingus,preferably one not in hearing range," Robin yells again, the sound of the oven door opening and closing punctuates her words, "cake'll be at least half an hour anyway".

"Is the rest of gift upstairs?" Steve asks slyly with a grin.

Eddie's head tilts as he processes the question, until Steve cocks an eyebrow and his eyes dart towards the stairs, then back to Eddie in one fluid motion.

Eddie swallows harshly and nods vigorously as Steve takes his hand, "Yes, jesus, it's supposed to be your birthday not mine".

"Best one I've had in awhile," Steve says softly before leading Eddie up the stairs and towards his room.

Robin's voice trails after them, exasperated but fond, "you assholes owe me, happy birthday you horn-dog".

Eddie can't help but laugh as they cross the landing and open the door.

This wasn't the surprise he and Robin had initially intended; but as he watches Steve walk backwards until his knees hit the plaid bedspread, Eddie can't help but feel that this was much better than he'd planned.

Perfect even.

Permanent Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

#afewproblems writes #birthday drabble #steddie #stranger things #an excuse to write about the kissing #birthday kisses #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #robin is 100 percent done with their shenanigans #steddie kisses

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killxz · 6 months

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Lost and Found

Pairing: Young Justice!Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

a/n: i've loved young justice since I was like 8 and i recently rewatched it again and i was disappointed that they didn't let dick or tim realise that jason was right there. so if i can't have it, imma make it. also, i've been writing on the web version of tumblr and i always make the text on my post small and i just realised that the small font on the app is miniscule 🤏🏻. so sorry to anyone who i may have given myopia to. TUMBLR STOP EATING MY DRAFTS! also don't forget to like or comment in your enjoyed! this takes place in season 3 episode 6 'Rescue Op'.

Conner broke down the door.

"This is why you don't go in unprepared." Dick mutters as you and the others rush into the prison cell. "Now, hold still." Brion and Forager grunts as Dick pulled out the control devices on the back of their necks.

"There you go, girl." Conner pats Sphere after he tore down the chains holding her in place. "You gotta figure the Shadows are on their way," You peered out of the door down the hall.

"Then let's go!" Dick orders, urging everyone out of the cell and down the dark hallway. You and the others ran down the winding paths in the dark, relying on Oracle's directions to escape the base. When Conner kicks down the final door, you see the so-called 'Sensei' some bald guy with Apokoliptian tech and a red-hooded ninja.

The group glared tensely at the trio, preparing for battle. Dick, ever the meditator, steps forward. "We just wanna leave," he says, hands up in a placating manner.

"Your trespass must be punished," Sensei declares, waving his glowing blue sword menacingly. You almost laughed. "Wrong answer." Conner growls as everyone kept into action. You faced off with the red-hooded ninja, blocking his katana slashes with your own. Somehow, this felt...familiar? It was like you fought with this person before. It almost felt like...

It's impossible, you told yourself firmly. He was dead. You just hadn't gotten over it yet. You got your head back in the game and started lashing out at the ninja with your own moves. With a clever strike, the ninja's katana clatter to the ground a few feet away. "Ha!" You exclaimed triumphantly. A bit too soon, perhaps. The ninja lunged towards you striking your blade out of your hand. You winced. "I guess we're doing this the old school way, then," you got into a defensive position. The ninja jumps towards you, aiming a punch which you blocked with your forearm, ignoring the sting that ran down your arm.

He then did something that made your blood run cold. He did a roundhouse kick , followed by a punch. Your mind was whirling. Bruce thought us that move...

Taking advantage of your distraction, he lunges towards you pinning you onto the ground under him. You yelp as your back hit the hard ground. Instinctively, you wrap your leg around his waist and rolled over, causing you to be onto of him. The ninja's hood and fallen off in your little tussle, showing a familiar head of messy black hair. You eyes widened.

It can't be... He's dead. Jason's dead.

"Jason?" You wavering voice whispered. The ninja flinched, his movements coming to an abrupt stop. With shaky hands, you reached for the mask covering his eyes, lifting it slowly. Beneath it, you see sickeningly familiar teal eyes. "Jason? B-but how? You're dead..."

"Enough." Ra's Al Ghul's voice echoed in the garden, causing all the fights happening to stop. Jason snatched the mask from your hand and put it back on, hooking his legs around yours and flipped you over, causing you to crash against the ground. Jason got off you and went to stand by his apparent master's side, leaving you shell-shocked on the ground, trying to process what had just happened. Dick rushed to your side. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He asked worriedly.

You could only shake your head wordlessly, your mind still too shocked to come up with coherent words.

"Well, young man, are you proud of this little debacle?" Ra's Al Ghul smirked. "I believe the detective will be quite disappointed." He glanced at Dick. Dick growled in response. "I assume you came to recover these children?" Ra's continued. "Take them and go."

"Not without my sister, Tara Markov!" Brion bellows. You smack a hand to your head. Seriously, this man has more anger issues than Conner when you, Dick, Wally and Kaldur first rescued him from Cadmus. "We know the League of Shadows has her!" He continues.

You zoned out for the rest of the conversation, your eyes locking onto somehow-resurrected Jason's form. As if he could feel your gaze on him, his head turned to your direction before turning away again.

As Ra's Al Ghul and the others engaged in a tense discussion about Tara Markov, your mind couldn't escape the overwhelming shock of seeing Jason once again. He was supposed to be dead, lost to the relentless grip of the Joker, and yet here he stood, seemingly loyal to the League of Shadows. The flood of emotions and memories rushed over you like a tidal wave.

Flashbacks of your time with Jason during his Robin days, his cheeky smile, his reckless enthusiasm, the secret, sweet moments you both shared, and the unwavering loyalty he showed to his comrades filled your mind. The pain of losing him all over again was too much to bear.

As the conversation with Ra's Al Ghul continued, you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of hopelessness. You had come to rescue Brion and the others, but now your heart ached for something else entirely. The prospect of reconciling with Jason, the possibility of bringing him back to your side again, seemed like an unattainable dream.

"Get out." the annoyed voice of Ra's snapped you out of your thoughts. As the others group together to get their bearings before they leave, you made your way to Jason, tugging on his arm to face you. "Jason..." Your voice was quiet, broken.

"Ah, it seems like you have found out who he is," Ra's chuckled. Anger rose within you as you whipped towards him. "What did you do to Jason?!"

He chuckled again, unbothered by your outburst. "Nothing, in fact, I have done you and your little Bat family a favor."

"By brainwashing him?!"

"He's not brainwashed, he's just...learning right from the beginning." Ra's shrugged.

You scoffed. "And that's supposed to be better?!" You stepped forward angrily, ready to bash in his skull. Jason grabbed your arm and shook his head silently. He tugged you away from the crowd and came to a stop behind the trees out of everyone's sight.

He took off his eye and face mask, leaving his face bare for you to see. He whispered your name, something that you have not heard in a long time, something that you used to desperately wish you would hear again. "Look," He begins. "I'm fine, okay? I'm perfectly fine-" You tug him into a fierce hug, squeezing tightly.

"You're not okay," You sniffle. "I missd you, so much..." Jason hesitantly wrapped his hands around your considerably shorter frame, squeezing lightly. "I-I missed you too," He mumbled, burying his face in your hair and pressing a kiss on the crown of your head.

You pull away, looking up at him. "Do...you think that things can go back to they once were?" You asked quietly. "There was something I didn't get to tell you, before...you died. I-"

Jason cuts you off by grabbing your chin and pulling you into a kiss. It was a tentative, cautious one, his lips as light as butterfly wings. He was waiting for you to take the initiative. You pressd your lips against his, hand snaking up to grab at the hai at the base of his neck, cuasing him to groan softly. His hands snake around your waist as he tugged you closer to him, your bodies flushed against each other,

In that moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, and the only thing that mattered was the connection you had with Jason. It was a connection that had never truly broken, no matter how much time had passed.

As the tension built between you, Jason's lips met yours in a hesitant, tender kiss. It was a kiss that held a confession of emotions too strong to be expressed in words – love, regret, longing, and the hope for a second chance.

When the kiss finally broke, you both pulled away, but your eyes remained locked onto each other's. It was a silent acknowledgment of what had just transpired – a rekindling of a connection that had been lost in the chaos of life as a vigiante.

Jason's voice was soft as he spoke, "I never thought I'd see you again."

You smiled, tears glistening in your eyes, and replied, "I never thought I'd see you again either, but I'm glad I did."

The moment was broken by Dick calling out your name. "Where are you? We gotta go!" You looked back at Jason, placing a hand on his cheek. "I'll come back for you," You whispered. "I promise."

Jason gives you a slight nod. "I'll be waiting. I...love you."

You kiss his cheek, stepping back. "I love you too, so much." You push the branchs of the tree aside, half stepping out into the light. "'I'll see you soon."

a/n: part 2? ;)

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #killxz #batboys #batman #fanfic #jason todd angst #jason todd #ao3 fanfic #young justice

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pavlovianfuckery · 2 months

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i have abandonment issues and anxiety and now so do you

just my brain going "but what if dream is a complete banana lady about time because he values it differently from everybody else and gets absorbed in his work and fucks off for months on end like a big fucking idiot, what then?"

also he is so very pretty when he cries and i wanted another go at writing some quick stair sex, fucking sue me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i was so sleep deprived when writing this and it shows but what can you do

It's been weeks since you slept unaided, the use of pills keeping any dreams at bay, so when you finally enter the Dreaming only to find yourself in the throne room of all places, it gives you pause. Everything looks much the same as you remember. When you finally lay eyes on the aloof figure on the throne it feels like being kicked in the chest, which is less unexpected. You had imagined what it would be like to see him again many times, but nothing you had planned to say comes out, the words turning to ash in your mouth.

"Leave us." His gaze is fixed on you as he orders everyone out, and it feels as if an eternity passes between the closing of the massive doors and him speaking to you. "Do you know why I have brought you here?" Just hearing his voice again is painful, but you refuse to let it show, squaring your shoulders but not meeting his eyes, not bothering to keep your tone civil.

"I do not presume to know why you would do anything, so no, I don't." The glibness doesn't seem to amuse him, and he steps down from the throne. "That is not quite true, is it?" His voice is flat as he approaches you unhurriedly, step by inexorable step. "If accusing me of being a liar is all you dragged me here for, I'm just going to go." You turn to go, to wake up, to be anywhere but here, but he calls out to you. "Stop." You were planning on leaving, and yet. And yet.

"Why?" You whirl around, facing him. It's a struggle to keep your voice from cracking, but you manage it, somehow. "You don't want me here." He frowns, moving closer until he's only a few paces away. "I assure you, that is not true, despite your lack of loyalty." "What in the world is that even supposed to mean?" Now you can't keep the anger out of your voice, "Since when have I ever been disloyal to you?" "Since you abandoned me to cavort with a mortal." The words are full of contempt, and it almost makes you physically recoil. "I abandoned you?" It comes out as a disbelieving laugh, more callous than you had intended. "No, you left, without so much as a word. I didn't hear from you for 6 months! I don't know if you had gotten bored of me or what, but you were gone."

"Bored?" His frown deepens. "There were matters of great import that required my attention." "Of course there were." You had always been painfully aware of your own unimportance to a being like him right from the start but nevertheless, his words still hurt. "What did you expect me to do then, spend the rest of my life waiting for you? I didn't even know if you were coming back at all."

"You certainly wasted no time before giving yourself to another." "Did you miss the part where you up and left me for months? Not that it's any of your business anymore but yes, I slept with someone else, to try and get over you forgetting me!" "I did not forget you." Somehow, the words make it worse. "Yeah? Because that's what it looked like." Your eyes sting and you wipe at them angrily.

He's frozen, unmoving at the bottom of the steps. Bathed in the soft light from the stained glass windows he reminds you of a marble statue. Beautiful. Cold. It cuts at you like a knife until you can't stand to look at him any longer, and you turn to leave again. The way his fingers snag your wrist takes you by surprise, not expecting him to reach out. "Wait." "I did." You yank your arm back, but he grabs hold. The touch is gentle, but it might as well have been a firebrand. "Let. Go." For all their vehemence the words feel like a lie on your tongue, and as you glare at him it's obvious that he doesn't believe them either because his grip only tightens. The way he looks at you hurts, it burns and something inside your chest just shatters.

The slap is loud in the empty room, neither of you expecting it. Even though your palm tingles from the open-handed strike there isn't a mark on him of course, but that doesn't make you feel any better. When he pulls you to him, most of the fight drains out of you. "You don't get to do this, you know," you punch his chest weakly, just once as the first tears start to fall. "You can't just dump me by the wayside when you get tired of me, I'm not your fucking pet." "No, perhaps not. But do not doubt this; you are mine."

Despite everything, the close proximity has the same effect as it always has, as if he'd never left. As he tightens his arms around you his familiar scent envelops you, making your head swim. You're not sure what possesses you to brush your lips against his throat, but you do it anyway, despite your every sense screaming at you that it's a bad idea. "Forgive me." For a moment you're sure that he'll send you away, that you'll wake up alone in your bed again and the thought makes it hard to breathe. But then his fingers ghost over your cheek, brushing your tears away before guiding your mouth to his. The kiss is a brief, unspeakably tender thing, over much too quickly. Brows knitted together in something like confusion his eyes are heavy on you, searching your face. "What is there to forgive? If I had known..."

You don't wait for him to finish speaking, pulling him back down by the lapels of his coat. His lips are as soft against yours as they've ever been as you pry them open, like it would be possible to push every shred of angerpaingrief into him that way. As if he could somehow understand your hurt if only you could force him to taste it. And he lets you, even as you nip at him until you taste blood, like bright copper pennies caught in your teeth. Lack of air makes your head spin but you can't stop clinging to him as if he'd turn to smoke under your hands, to slip between your fingers to be gone by morning. "Don't leave me like that again..."

You breathe the words into him like a prayer until your knees go weak, and even then he holds you to him still, not letting go. The descent onto the stairs is a gradual one, made clumsy by the reluctance to let go for even a second. Straddling his lap is a graceless affair, but you're beyond caring. Feeling the fabric of his coat under you is a bit unsettling, the way it cushions your knees from the unyielding stone beneath a bit too well to be quite real. It makes you feel as if you could fall into the sky of the lining of it if you're not careful. "You are aware of my responsibilities; I can offer you no such promises." That hurts to hear more than you would like to admit, but then he continues, "I can however endeavour to inform you when my work requires my full attention."

It's not quite an apology, but it's as close to one as you're likely to ever get and still more than you dared hope for. As the hem of his shirt rides up exposing the skin there, the urge to be closer is overpowering. "I have missed you." The way he says it is quiet but fond, the words soft enough to rival the feel of his skin under your questing hands.

Wanting to lay any claim on him that you can you suck at the sensitive skin on the side of his neck, which surprisingly does leave a mark, one that doesn't fade. When the realization dawns that he's doing that, he's keeping it there on purpose for you, lust pools molten in your belly. Repeating the action on the other side makes him groan, the sound vibrating against your lips as he tips his head back and grinds his hips up against you, giving you all the permission you need.

The bruises bloom nearly instantly, another one of his tricks, offered up almost like a gift. They dapple the flawless column of his throat prettily, but it's still not enough. The seams creak in protest as you pull the collar of his shirt down to get at more of him, but he doesn't seem to mind. After being apart for so long, suddenly having him this close when you thought you never would again is overwhelming and you're unable to hold back a few errant tears. "Do you have any idea what it was like with you gone?" Giving his hair a pull, you force him to look at you.

He wets his lips before responding, an uncharacteristically human gesture. "It was never my intention to cause you harm." The tremble in his voice is barely perceptible but still undeniably there.

His lips yield to yours so easily when you kiss him again, pressing the heel of your hand against his fly. "Help me forget?" As you breathe the words into his mouth you can feel him pulse through the fabric. "Please?"

Even with his hands aiding yours it's easier than it should have been to pull his jeans down, the stiff material offering next to no resistance, a convenience courtesy of the Dreaming. Rather than removing them completely, you push them only as far down as is necessary.

His cock is just as pretty as the rest of him, you'd almost forgotten that. The skin is silky in your palm as you give him a few slow pumps, just as a reminder of what he feels like. "Let me see you." His words make the rest of your clothing fade away like morning mist leaving you completely exposed on his lap, another perk of his realm that you had missed. The way he touches you borders on worshipful as he presses a soft kiss over your heart, gentle as a butterfly wing.

Sinking down on him slowly is difficult when you're aching like this, but you want to savour it. For now, he simply leans back and watches as your body swallows every inch of him. The way he fills you so perfectly is intoxicating, addictive. It feels like coming home. For a while you don't move, just enjoying holding him inside like this, buried to the hilt as you squeeze around him. The intimacy of it is almost unbearable, nearly making you choke up again as he gently grabs hold of your hips and guides you into a languid pace.

"Tell me he didn't make you feel like this." The words are quiet, almost pleading, his eyes shining as he looks up at you. You had thought something like that wouldn't matter to a being like him, but his fragile expression tells you otherwise. "I need to hear you say it," he gasps, the stars in his eyes finally falling. Seeing him like this nearly breaks your heart all over again. As you kiss his face with all the tenderness you can muster, moisture stains your lips, making him seem remarkably human in that moment. "You know he didn't," you fail to keep your voice steady as you stroke his hair. "He wasn't you."

The way his chest hitches does nothing to douse the desire burning its way through you, not the way it perhaps should have done. He's so lovely like this, all dishevelled, cheeks shining. It's wholly unexpected, the vulnerability of it all, making the tension in your core coil tighter. The salt of his tears burning on the tip of your tongue makes you feel like consuming enough of him in any way you can would somehow erase your stupid mistake. As if he could fill you up until there would be room for nothing else, and he would push the memory of it out of you.

"Please come in me," you roll your hips, pleading. "I need you to."

That you would ask for it so bluntly makes him let out a desperate little sound and thrust up into you ineffectually, the bunched-up fabric around his knees making it close to impossible to gain any proper traction on the smooth stone steps. He grasps your hips more firmly, spurring you on. "Move for me." It's still a fairly leisurely pace, neither of you so much chasing release as letting it arrive in its own time. Pleasure washing over you in gentle waves makes your thighs quake as it brings you close to your peak before pulling away, time and time again.

The squelching noises as you ride his cock are embarrassingly loud in the empty hall, but you're beyond caring about anything except that you get to have him like this again. One of his hands moves to where you are joined, clever fingers circling your clit, not directly touching you yet. "You make such a sweet mess of me, my love."He murmurs, voice strained as he continues, "I've missed that." The words alone are nearly enough to put you right back on that precipice, making you pull on his hair with a frustrated little whine. "Morpheus, please." At that, he goes completely still, his grip like iron as he holds you in place. You can feel his cock straining inside of you, nearly spilling but not quite. "Plead with me like that," he chokes out, cheeks high with colour, "and you will receive me sooner than you might hope."

Being the one to make his composure falter has never failed to drive you wild and this time is no different. Seeing him like this after your time apart, balancing on that edge right along with you, is very nearly enough to bring you off. Furrowing his brow he bites his bottom lip, fighting to keep his control from slipping, and you realize that you're going to come regardless of if he moves or not. It's like a tidal wave on the horizon, the pull relentless long before it arrives.

"I'm going to," you struggle to get the words out, "fuck, I'm..." The way his eyes bore into yours is almost hypnotic, drawing you in. "Go on," he breathes, egging you on, "come for me." Then he flexes inside of you and with a whimper, you're lost, walls spasming around his cock. There is no way to ride the wave of pleasure and nowhere to hide from it, the only thing you can do is slump bonelessly on his lap and let it wash over you, because he isn't letting you move. He's only a few seconds behind you though, pushing in as far as he can go and emptying himself there with a strangled sound, as if he really could wash every trace of the other man's touch out of you that way.

Spent, he rests his head against your shoulder, stroking his hands down your back soothingly as his come starts seeping out of you. For a while you simply stay like that, holding each other close. Now that you're thinking more clearly reality starts to set in, and you can't help but dread waking up. Because in your heart of hearts, you know that you will wake up alone, no matter what just happened. It hits you like a sledgehammer to the chest and without meaning to, you start to tremble.

Realizing with rising horror that this might just be A dream and not your Dream, you do the only thing you can think of; you flee back to the waking world.

#dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #sandman x you #sandman smut #dream of the endless smut #the sandman fanfiction #my shitty shitty writing (affectionate)

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kytrisz · 9 months

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Why not me? | Matt Smith

| pairing. matt smith x reader requested by. @shuichiakainx

You're currently in the pub with Matt's castmate, celebrating the success of the House of the Dragon premiere. You are there as his plus one, and also because he said he needed you there. He needed the support of his best friend.

Friend…

That’s what you are, a friend, and always be a friend.

Sitting at the bar station, you stir the beer bottle you are holding while watching everyone around you, more like you're watching him. You study the way he talks animatedly, his expressions, and everything else. And seeing him beam like there was no tomorrow for what he had accomplished today induces a tiny smile on your face.

As you continued to gaze longingly at him, you didn't notice a figure make its way beside you until it uttered something that caught you off guard.

"How long have you been in love with him?"

Like a deer caught in the headlights, you whirled around to see who the person was. And it's none other than Emma, Matt's co-star in the show. You tried to school your face as neutral as possible.

"...what do you mean?" you carefully ask, squinting your eyes at her.

"I know that look dear, you don't have to deny it," Emma giggled, waving her hand to the bartender to ask for a drink, who obediently do it. Grabbing the glass, she leans on the counter with her elbows before returning her gaze to you.

"You love him?" Emma asked rhetorically as she drank the shot glass.

You looked at her for a moment before turning away, muttering, "I don't know what you're talking about..."

Emma let out a short laugh, appearing amused at you, then her eyes softened as she noticed you staring at him wistfully again. "A piece of advice, my dear," she beckoned you, drawing your attention and fixing your gaze on her.

"Sometimes...knowing the answer, even if it hurts, is better than regret," Emma murmured, giving you a small smile, before turning and striding her way to other casts, leaving you with your thought to think about what she said.

You let out a weak smile before returning your attention to him. You know it's true, regarding what she said. You tried to confess so many times to him to the point you can't even recall how many now. But every time you tried to tell him, fear always held you back. You don't fear him not loving you back, you fear that everything will change. You know the moment you confess to him your relationship will never be the same again.

You will never be this close again...

You know he doesn't love you like that. And his past relationships are proof of that. Where you always watch his back while he's looking at her as if she's the most precious thing he ever got.

Thinking about it, you raise your bottle again to drink, forcing all the pain away with the bitter taste of the beer. While sipping, you noticed Matt staring at you. Locking your eyes at his chocolate ones, he gives you his famous charming smile that makes you swoon always. Then he raises his hand, signaling for you to come.

You smile at him as you place the empty beer on the countertop, then take out your wallet to get some cash and leave it there.

Even though you're practically intoxicated and already swaying and dizzy, you try your hardest to get to him without colliding with anyone else. After all, you do want to make a scene.

And when you're already feet away from him. There you saw him, smiling at another girl whose arms wrapped into his shoulder. Stopping you from your feet.

You keep staring at them as your heart begins to slowly break open on the inside. But what truly crush it is when you saw Matt look at her the way he always at look at his partners before,

with adoration…

You drew a deep breath and slowly backed away from them with your gaze still fixed on them... Then without a second, you spun away from them and hastily made your way to the exit.

As you pushed the door open, you swiftly exited the pub, your lungs heaving and tears welling up in your eyes. You don't even know why you're crying. You always see him with other girls so what changed, why it hurts? Is it due to alcohol? Many questions arise in your mind, yet none are answered.

With a ragged sob and pent-up tears flowing down your face, you let out a strangled howl. And it only worsened when a thunderstorm appeared and began to pour heavily, leaving you drenched from head to toe.

"Fuck!" you hoarsely exclaimed as you continued down the road, leaving no care whether you get wet or sick. You just need to get away. You just need to numb the pain, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuc-"

"y/n!" you heard a voice call, stopping you in your tracks, and as you turned around, you saw him, the catalyst of your pain, Matt with an umbrella over his head, making his way inside you.

You immediately spun around and continue your way down the street, ignoring his call. You can't face right. You can't. You fucking can'-

"y/n, please, you'll get sick!" Matt pleaded.

You heard a frustrated groan from your back as a sequence of splashes of water became louder.

And before you can turn around to inspect it, a hand in your arm spun you around in a flash stopping you and startling you at the same time. Making you face Matt whose face is painted with frustration and scowl.

"What the fuck are you thinking, y/n? You'll get sick from what you're doing!" Matt growled, tightening his grip on your arm as you struggled to yank it off.

As you locked your gaze into his, you saw fury flash into his eyes, but it quickly softened as he saw your face drenched in tears, snot, and rain, and as he heard you groan from the grip, he immediately released it, as if afraid of hurting you further.

'The irony,' you thought to yourself.

Matt then raised the umbrella above you and took a deep breath before asking softly, "...what's wrong?"

You both looked at one other for a long time. With him looking at you for an answer, while you... You're thinking. thinking about whether you'll admit it now, what's causing this, why you're crying, your agony, your feelings...

But just always, you only mutter "nothing" leaving him in his umbrella without saying a word further and making your way to the station.

Dumbfounded, Matt look at your leaving figure. Hurt, confused, angry, he doesn't know anymore, but all he knows is that you're hurting… He does not want to see you in pain. So, without a second thought, he pushed all his feelings aside and pursued you relentlessly. All he wants is for you to no longer be in pain.

"y/n!" you heard him call you repeatedly, and as usual, you ignored them, focused on getting away from here, getting away from him because you felt your grip is already loosening...

But something stops you when you hear Matt angrily yell near you, "Why the fuck are you acting this way?!"

"Leave it be, Matt."

"What the fuck is the problem?!"

"I said to drop it—"

"Jesus Christ! Just give me a fucking answer-"

You felt something inside you snap, maybe because of the alcohol, as you turn around to him and look at his face "Do you really want an answer?!" cause Matt to stop in front of you.

"It's because I'm jealous! I'm fucking jealous, Matt!"

Glaring at him with all hatred, "I'm jealous 'cause I love you. I fucking love you! Are you happy now?!" slapping him in his chest, letting out an anguished cry.

"Matt... Matt, why is it so easy for you to notice everyone but me? I'm right in front of you but you never saw me even once." you hoarsely said, closing your eyes you let out another sound strangle wails of pain that came in sync with the sound of thunder and rain pouring harder "Why is it so easy for you to love anyone but me...? Why can't it just be me Matt? Why not me?!"

You fucking said it, you fucking said it... Then there was a long pause. A rough chuckle let out from you when you heard nothing coming from him, only the continuous thundering and rain hitting the ground. This is it, everything changes now, everything is over... All will become strangers and nothing more.

You spin around and rush away without even bothering to look at him. That's what you're always good at, running from everything, especially him.

As you keep on running further you didn't hear a thump of an umbrella thrown into the ground, and shoes splatting on the wet ground

And everything becomes too fast, as you felt a hand on your shoulder forcefully spinning you around, then two hands cupping your cheeks, and without even realizing lips landed on yours. The kiss was hard, ugly, and imperfect as filled with anger, pain, anguish, frustration... But even so, it's beautiful. The kiss is imperfectly beautiful.

As both of you felt having no breath left, you felt Matt reluctantly pull away from you, almost as if he didn't want to. And both your eyes lock, and you noticed a range of emotions lingering in his eyes. It spun with love, joy, fulfillment, and longing. You've never seen such emotion in his eyes before, and now it's staring right at you, causing you to feel overwhelmed.

And then he let out the three words that destroy all your expectations

"I love you," Matt whispered to you longingly, staring at your eyes, your nose, your face, studying you as if this is your last "I love you very very much y/n, and I'm sorry for everything,"

As he continues saying his sorry to you let out a heavy sob from his confession, you feel so happy, you never once thought he would even feel the same.

As you let out a chuckle you grab his right hand with both of your hands, making him pause from what he is saying and solely focus on you. Caressing it, you raise the back of his hand into your lips planting a longing kiss before returning his gaze to yours.

"Let's start a new," you muttered to him, smiling.

Looking at you dazed and stunned, all he did was nod and let out a happy grin.

A fresh start, a fresh start from everything else, and a new chapter in life. And this time, you'll be in the same chapter. Nobody but the two of you.

#matt smith #matt smith x reader #matt smith x you #matt smith fanfiction #matt smith fanfic #bit of angst #oneshot

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alchemistc · 1 year

Text

Forever, For Always

Steve had called her 'mama' once. Just the once, because he'd heard one of the kids in first grade calling their own mom that as they streaked towards the pretty lady already kneeling, arms open wide to receive them. He can't remember who it was anymore, only that at the time it seemed like 'mama' was a magic word like 'Alakazam' that had the mystical power to make moms drop everything and wrap their kids up in their arms and cling to them, nose pressed right up by their ear and swaying back and forth on a laugh and he'd wanted that for himself but he'd wanted it for his mom, too.

Victoria Harrington had tutted when he tugged at her pant leg, head tilting to cradle the phone between her ear and shoulder, and her mouth had quirked up a little, and she'd ruffled his hair - that was before it became His Hair, when it was just a flop of golden-brown that the lady at the salon always cut just like his mom showed her - and then she'd turned away and it turned out 'mama' wasn't a magic word at all.

When Steve was thirteen Carol's mom drove them to the movie theater and halfway there someone ran a stop sign going way too fast and blowing straight through the two way stop and they'd almost been t-boned. Steve and Carol were in back, because Tommy had had a growth spurt and his legs were long and gangly and he'd been so fucking pleased with himself when Carol's mom told him he could sit up front with her.

And then the car almost slammed into them and Carol's mom slammed on the brakes and they skittered and slid and the speeding car clipped Carol's mom's bumper and Steve felt like he might throw up but instead he caught the harsh features of Carol's mom in the rear view, thought for a second he and Carol had been too loud and she was mad at them for distracting her, but then he saw the way her arm was out to the side, bent at a weird-wrong-bad angle with her plalm still facing towards Tommy, and sound had come rushing back in his ears when the chief of police jogged past the line of cars behind them and yanked open the door.

She'd been fine, mostly - arm stuck in a cast for six weeks and laughing at Steve as he hopped up on the stool next to her to help her stir her famous goulash and Tommy whirled around her grabbing things from cabinets that needed two hands, and he never said anything, because by then he was already eating dinner at Carol or Tommy's four nights a week and mostly he only saw his mom in the weekends but -

For years after he remembered the way she hadn't even noticed her arm was broken until Hopper eased her out of the driver's seat, the way she'd reached out to protect Tommy who wasn't even her kid and how she hadn't even thought about it, how her first words had been 'everyone alright?' even though her elbow was totally bent the wrong way.

Joyce Byers is fierce and protective and totally not worried about going a little fucking crazy for her kids, and -

When Steve was seventeen Karen Wheeler pressed a kiss to his forehead and a Christmas gift into his hand and then scolded Mike for not telling Steve Merry Christmas and when Nancy and Mike and Holly and Ted weren't looking he'd just sort of watched her, teasing her kids and curling hands around their shoulders and getting So Mad at Mike for being such a dickhead but then still curling her arm around his shoulder and tugging him in for a hug Mike was too young to savor like he should.

Dad's are - dad's have always been complicated, and Steve mostly thinks they're all, at a minimum, a little useless, when it comes down to it. Hopper was maybe an exception, but even that was sort of hit or miss, and Hopper wasn't like, a real dad. (Anymore)

So. The kids fall into his lap, one after another, tumbling into his life like little fucking parasites, and Steve just -

Dads are useless, and Steve wants to be useful, and so when they start mockingly responding to his "Get your grody sneakers off my dash." and his "You all need to eat a meal with vegetables or you're gonna get goddamn scurvy." and the way he takes two large steps forward even as he's telling them to get behind him with "Yes mom," or "Whatever, mom," he doesn't actually stop them. He complains about it, loudly and with a hip cocked and a frown on his face, but even that is more Mrs. Perkins than anything else.

And -

When he tells them all to stop fretting and go home, take a shower and eat a real meal, he remembers the way he'd looked at Mrs. Perkins, all fond exasperation as she craned her neck to check on Carol and Steve while her arm was bent the wrong way and he doesn't fight them on it when in unison they all murmur mocking but still quiet "Yes moooom"s at him.

When Steve is twenty he spends six days in a hospital bed with Wayne Munson hovering over him like a nervous hen and Jim Hopper yelling at nurses on his behalf because "He's been here goddamn enough for you to notice, he passed out the migraines were so bad, are you telling me you never told his parents to look into it?" and the kids all hush when they pile in around him, Dustin over his legs and Max's chair slid as close to the side rail as she could angle it and Mike white knuckling the end of the bed and refusing to make direct eye contact and Lucas distracting him from the way they're all fretting with absolutely terrible puns he huffs a laugh at anyway.

Later, he'll tell Eddie about the magic word that turned out to just be plain old love and devotion, and Eddie will frown and roll his eyes and thread their fingers together and mutter some shit about Victoria Harrington that Steve still wants to deny even if it's all accurate, and Eddie will whisper him off to sleep with a story about his own mama catching a still hot frying pan with her bare hands when the elder Munson's aim was off and it'd nearly brained Eddie instead of it's intended target. Later he'll accept the exasperation in Karen's eyes when he apologizes for passing out at the barbeque, and when she ruffles his hair she'll be looking him dead in the eye. Later, much later, he'll type up his resume and leave Victoria Harrington off as a reference, and Eddie and Robin will glare at the back of her head when he hefts the last of his boxes into the back of Eddie's van and she holds out a stiff hand for him to shake.

Later, he'll forgive her, and secretly (never-tell-a-soul-especially-not-eddie-or-robin secretly) be grateful that he'd taken her lessons and overcorrected in the opposite direction.

Later, when the adoption agencies realize gay men are generally completely willing and eager to take in kids that white-picket-fence families aren't, he'll get into a screaming match with a twelve year old and when they're both out of breath and sullen he'll poke his head in his daughters bedroom door and she'll pretend to be sleeping but he'll still press a kiss to her temple. Two years she'll call him "Ma" in that fond teasing way of hers and something in him will just break - and he keeps it together through her recital and a late dinner and the movie they all watch before bed but Eddie will curl his arms around Steve and rub his back while he chokes on silent sobs because they'd been pretty sure they'd never get kids of their own and the last year has been hell trying to convince Mary they give a shit about her and even if she'd been joking, a bit, she'd still reached over and pressed her palm to his, and he's understood since that night on the train tracks exactly why Mrs. Perkins had broken her own arm in that car crash but now he knows 'mama' DOES have some magic to it.

#steve harrington ficlet #mama hen steve #steve x eddie #steve and the party #steve harringtons parental issues to mama pipeline #idek what this is i rebageled that gif set and this came tumbling out #steve harrington has mommy issues

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echoalyssa · 1 year

Text

Smoke Bomb | Pietro Maximoff

Authors Note - So HOPEFULLY this marks the return of my Tumblr... to those that are still here and messaging me to check in, thank you! This has been sitting in my drafts unpublished for over two years. Fingers crossed, I feel some of that old spark for writing coming back.

Summary - In the shower together, Sam, your best friend thinks it's funny to throw a smoke bomb into your shower and you end up chasing him with a towel wrapped around you throwing things at him. Piet has to hold you back with an arm around your waist and Sam cowers behind Bucky.

The water is hot, filling the shower cubicle with steam. There's music playing from the overhead speakers and that mixed with the sound of the water hitting the tile means you can't hear your boyfriend. Though you can feel him, he has you pressed against the shower wall. One of his legs is slotted between your thighs, one hand on your waist and the other is in your hair.

His lips are against yours, Piet is kissing you open mouthed and raw. His mouth is firm against yours, sure and his tongue explores your mouth.

You're lost in him, fully focused on the way the two of you fit together perfectly... that is until it suddenly gets very cold.

You shiver and the two of you turn. The large glass door is open and there stands your best friend, Sam.

Bucky stands behind him cackling with a hand over his eyes. And then Sam throws something into the shower.

Its Stark tech but with a twist because Tony wouldn't make something like this unless he wanted to prank someone. Tony makes weapons, devices that had purpose.

Blue smoke immediately starts spewing from both ends of the device and it smells so pungently strong of blue berries that you cough.

You stumble towards the shower door and practically fall through the door and onto the tile. Visibility is better out here though not to be described as great. Pietro stumbles out after you.

You snatch a towel off the rack and wrap it around yourself, "SAM!" you scream, just as you see Sam disappear through the doorway.

You're going to kill him. Your boyfriend wraps one around himself as well and darts after you as you dart after Sam and Bucky.

"SAM!" You yell again, "Bucky! I'm going to kill both of you!"

You catch up easily, and Piet with his super speed has no issue following the chase. You're grabbing random objects as you run, chucking them at the retreating figure. A tube of toothpaste, a box of tissues, a coat hanger, a boot.

Sam is screaming with laughter but seems to realize you're gaining on him too fast because he whirls around, hiding behind Bucky.

You're still advancing when an arm circles around hour waist. You know exactly who it is and you squirm in his arms, almost dropping the towel. There's a whoosh and then the towel is wrapped even tighter around you than before.

"I surrender!" Sam yells, and Bucky rolls his eyes in response. Bucky reaches behind him with his metal arm and pries Sam off of him, pulling so that he's standing right in your line of fire.

You launch your final item at him, a mascara wand and it hits him right between his eyeballs. It makes a loud smack sound and everyone quiets.

Sam's mouth opens and he looks like a fish gasping for air just staring at you.

Behind you Pietro breaks into laughter, pressing himself into your back while simultaneously clutching at his heart.

"You totally deserved that man." He manages between laughs.

Bucky is trying to slink away behind a corner but Pietro releases you and zooms to grab him. By the time his blur has stopped blurring the two are standing in front of you wrapped in an extension cord.

Pietro has a shit eating grin on his face as he holds a hand out to you and leads you away from the pranksters to the shower in Sam's room so that the two of you can resume the previous activities.

"No, please! The cooties! Use Bucky's instead!" You hear Sam yelling as the bathroom door swings shut and Pietro cranks up the water pressure, hands batting away the towel separating the two of you.

#marvel cinematic universe #marvel #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff #pietro x reader #pietro maximoff x reader

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sapphic-bats · 10 months

Text

Yes, this is based off of personal experience. In this case, I am Robin. Proceed:

Robin absoLUTELY tried to convince Steve that you can eat tampons.

Started with a conversation about period products. They're talking about tampons, when suddenly she says, "What's your favorite flavor?"

He gives her a blank stare. "What."

"Flavor. Of tampon." She restates, leaning against the counter.

And poor Steve looks so lost. "You... you can eat tampons?"

"Yeah! I'm partial to strawberry, myself." Then she shakes her head. "Hold up, you're telling me you've never eaten a tampon?"

He blinks. "No! Why the hell would I eat a tampon?"

Robin shrugs.

"Wait, but aren't they for...?" He makes a hand gesture that obviously signifies inserting a menstrual product.

"Yeah, but you don't wanna waste them. If you don't use some before their expiration date, you just eat 'em."

She's trying so hard not to laugh.

"Oh." Is all he says.

Oh my god, she should be an actor.

This continues. Another discussion about menstruation, and they're talking about comfortable products. Nancy's asked by Robin about what she uses, and Nancy shrugs.

"I don't get periods anymore. I've been on the pill for four years."

Robin raises her brows, impressed. "Good for you, honestly. Wish I could afford that."

"The pill?" Steve frowns. "What's that?"

Nancy turns to Steve. "Birth control. It's a contraceptive, but variants can also stop women from getting periods."

"Shit. Sounds a lot better than tampons." Steve nods, then scoffs. "I still can't believe they're edible!"

Everyone freezes. Robin included.

"What?"

Steve knits his brows. "Tampons. Robin told me that you can eat them."

Eddie forces back a snort, meets Robin's eyes. "Did she, now?"

She grins, nodding at him quickly. "Uh-huh."

"Well, it's true." Eddie plays along, because why the hell not?

Steve whirls around to look at him in confusion. "How did you know that? You don't even have periods!"

Eddie nods. "It's true, I'm a guy, but I'm also a feminist. I know that tampons are edible because I've done my research."

"I'm a feminist, and I didn't know that!"

"Guess you're not feminist enough, Stevie."

Steve is, once again, incredibly lost. That's when Nancy take pity on him.

"They're fucking with you, Steve."

He glances from Robin, to Eddie. Both suspects burst out laughing, snickering about their act. And Steve groans.

"Oh, god damnit, Robin!"

(Everyone, remember when this is set. Nancy said "women" because it was the '80s. The common terminology wasn't normalized quite yet.)

#steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #steddie #< target audience #ronance #<— target audience #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #ficlet #stranger things ficlet #discussions around menstruation #<- IMPORTANT

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mychlapci · 4 months

Note

If we are going to discuss TFP Bulkhead let's think about post-War all the ex-Decepticons Vehicons being absolutely horny for their foreman. Going to be very, very dubcon (at best). Sorry it got a bot outta hand.

He's a boss but more along the lines of Breakdown who doesn't hit and treats them nicely and knows their names. He even starts to become friendly and knows their names. Everytime he bends over and has to come pick up something heavy, production stalls.

Most accidents are due to eyeballing him. He once got hot working and took off his chest plate casually as it is common with Construction bots to prevent overheating and they all got an eyeful of Bulkhead titties and a ten car pileup happened. Mommy Bulkhead kinks were born that day.

He is just surrounded by lusting Vehicons and one day they can't stand it, after he gets a little tipsy. He complains about how hard it is to find a partner mentioning everyone expects a big strong Wrecker and see him and how he'd like to be the one taken care of a bit you know. Like a hundred engines start growling at the thought and one of them says they could and Bulkhead laughs saying it's fine thinking they are joking. But then they all start complimenting him drunkenly and he blushes, waving off the “You're great boss!” “Anyone would be lucky to have you!” “So pretty!” and goes home but they are all plotting now.

The Vehicons all start a group effort of hitting on him and flirting and little gifts because that's how Autobots convey interest right? Completely goes over his head. Then they decide to do it the way things went on the Nemesis.

Bulkhead gets lured into a construction area below the surface and tries to help by clearing an area out and goes to walk through but the doors of the subterranean temple to one of the Primes shuts down and neatly cinches around his face. He curses but starts directing his team how to get out but things are weirdly quiet and then he feels a hand on his modesty plate. He bulks and then his lead assistant who is now rubbing against it explains that they all deeply care for him and want to show their appreciation and since the Autobot way didn't work they'll try something else.

Bulkhead finds out his comm connection doesn't work and though he struggles doesn't want to hurt them and tries to say why they can't do this because he's talked with them a lot and Decepticons have a really messed up idea of bodily autonomy and consent especially Vehicons who even he, guiltily, genuine thought were more drone than person for a long time.

They all assure him not to worry they'd never hurt him and keep touching him exactly, exactly, how he likes so his protests are interrupted by him moaning as he is getting hot and his vents opening up, fans turning on and getting wet behind the panel. He is suddenly deeply regretting all those interface stories he shared when they were relaxing together after hours. Even worse are the compliments both about his frame and himself that are just so sincere.

He can't stop it and his panel pops.

Things quickly escalate. That split face and long tongue from the zombie/Vampire episode? That's just how Vehicons feed. Soon Bulkhead has one eating him out the tentacle tongue going deeper than it should be able to while one is eagerly deep throating him tongue wrapping around and stroking his spike. He overloads and that's just the beginning.

There's a train of them eager to lick and suck and fuck him. The entire time he has to listen to how pretty his pussy he is how kind and sweet he is how they all just want to worship him and their fields are just a whirl stream of lust and admiration that is tripping him up over and over. The train just keeps going and going. He never gets a moment to feel empty because one replaces the next immediately and when his spike eventually recesses they gently lube that up with fingers and tongues and then his spike casing is being fucked as well which makes him overload even harded because they are small enough to not damage him.

Eventually his charge and fuel levels start to dip but they have a plan for that. Turns out the room isn't as locked down as he thought and some slip in here as they all take a break to massage him, oil his joints, squirt lube generously in all his holes and refuel him while he is dazed he barely reacts until he's getting kissed and that tongue is fucking his intake and his chest plate is getting removed. They give him Energon, engex, hand feed him sweets, and polish him as quite a few also have caretaking kinks.

(And the healthiest Decepticon relationship they are trying to mirror is KOBD.)

When they restart it is from the front and back. Kissing turns into fucking and someone is always sucking, squeezing or fucking in between his boobs and before he knows it he can't even count how many are going at once in his spike, valve, throat, aft, and boobs and he feels like he's stuck in a constant overload interrupted by "so pretty” “our beautiful big boss” “you can take so much so sweet”.

Bulkhead genuinely doesn't know when it ends but he wakes up in his bed fully recharged, body clean with no marks, no transfluid in any hole, but wet behind his panels. There's a message saying he got “overcharged” at the celebration and they tucked him in. The other Autobots comment about the party the Vehicons had.

Bulkhead thinks he dreamed it because everyone is so normal the next day, just warm and friendly, following orders and calling him boss. It makes him twitchy and nervous. He goes down to the Temple and finds they've cleared out the area and started repairs. No sign of him being pinned down there.

He thinks he's going a bit crazy because now he can't stop thinking about it and is horny constantly and conflicted and starts intentionally doing things like bending over or taking off his chest plate and stretching.

Then when he's accepted that it was just his overactive imagination his second comes up to his office leans into his personal space and just gently strokes up his arm pressing a field that feels just like Bulkhead's “dream” and says that the Vehicons are wanting to have a celebration in their barracks and they want Bulkhead there as the centerpiece. It's an invitation and Bulkhead freezes up before saying “of course” and shows up skittish and unsure. Everyone keeps touching him but keeping it PG as he is given drinks and lingering touches and he thinks maybe he imagined it. Then he gets lead into their “recreation area” and they've set up a massive frame with straps and padding designed to fit him.

Bulkhead takes a shot and says “yes”.

makes animal sounds at this because i'm fucking. speechless. Something about Bulkhead being extremely desirable for his size just does it for me.

The vehicons working under him love Bulkhead. He doesn't scream at them, he doesn't hit them, and he's perfectly built (Bulkhead big naturals will now live in my head forever.) Vehicons being unaware of how to approach the subject of absolutely getting to ruin his holes one by one, they try to mimic autobot courting methods but that just doesn't work on Bulkhead. Getting to pin him down seems like a more efficient method. He's a strong guy, but a fucked up vehicon tongue up his pussy makes him fold so fast…

Poor Bulkhead gaslit into thinking he just had an extremely vivid wet dream until he ends up down there again and now the room is nicely decorated and the vehicons promise to take care of him… I'll be completely honest with you, I want Bulkhead in a sex swing. I've decided that's going to be my fantasy for tonight. I want him helpless and strung up with vehicons pushing their spikes into his valve over and over again until he can barely feel his calipers…

#i uh... have to go #valveplug #bulkhead titties... bulkhead pussy...#<- my hypnosis mantra #texty

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capricornlevi · 2 years

Note

❛ i’m not jealous. ❜ + AOT Jean 👀👀

ahhh thank u my love! i love jean too much so this turned from a drabble into a fic lmao he awakens something in me 😭😭❤️

jean kirstein x f!reader (wc 5.5k)

brief mention of reiner x reader, nsfw content (fingering, handjobs, vaginal sex, semi-public sex, 'hold the moan', praise kink), alcohol use (all sex sober & consensual)

nsfw - minors/ageless blogs do not interact!

"Your turn."

You don't hear Jean's voice at first, his words drowned out by the raucous cheering of the others sitting on the living room floor. It's loud in here, almost deafening, and he's sitting at the other end of the circle with six or so people sitting on either side of you. He repeats himself, but again, his words are lost to the sound of your friends reacting to the last round of spin-the-bottle.

The whole party had agreed to the game after surprisingly little convincing, and you've sat watching everyone take their turns for the last half-hour. You haven't been selected yet. Eren's spin was a close call having landed only a couple inches to your right, but you agreed without objection that it definitely stopped in front of Mikasa.

Any hope of you hearing Jean’s voice disappears once your friends start to cheer loudly once more. You let out a little laugh and a clap at seeing Eren's obvious blush after he shuffled back to his place in the circle. It’s sweet.

You're sitting cross-legged, a beer in one hand and your phone in the other, trying (in vain, since Connie keeps accidentally pushing you as he hops up to grab drinks) to text your roommate to tell her you won't be home til tomorrow (Mikasa's offered you the couch, and how can you say no when the party's just kicking off now?)

Before today, you had never really liked the idea of spin-the-bottle. It always seemed like a cheesy, immature game that people only play as a last resort, when the party has become so dull that the only other option is leaving. But surprisingly, tonight is starting to get fun; you can’t deny that the game is contributing to that. Everyone's at that stage of tipsiness where it's all flushed cheeks and laughter without anyone getting too messy. All of your friends are approaching the game lightheartedly, and you can’t help but feel you were too cynical at the start of the night.

Nobody here is actually dating one another - officially, at least - so the potential for hurt feelings is kept to a minimum.

You're distracted by an elbow to the ribs, deliberate but not forceful, just enough to get you to pay attention to the person next to you. You turn to Connie, brows furrowed as you try to see what he wants from you.

"Apparently it's your turn," he informs you, eyes shifting to the opposite side of the room as he speaks. "So I've been told three times now."

Setting your phone down on the floor (a safe distance away from your beer), you smile at the eager faces looking over at you. They must have been waiting for you to take your turn for a couple of minutes now.

You crawl to the centre of the circle without further hesitation and with a flick of your wrist, you spin the green-glass bottle that's been the centre of everyone's focus this evening.

It makes a light clink as it spins and your heart rate quickens unexpectedly. The room has gone quiet with anticipation as it has done for earlier rounds too, but you suddenly feel a lot of pressure for a reason you can't quite ascertain.

It spins for what seems like twice as long as everyone else's turn, but finally it starts to slow down, the whirling sound of the glass on the wooden floor getting slower and slower ...

The bottle clinks to a halt in front of Reiner.

A boorish cheer rises from the others in the circle and you grin. Reiner isn't the worst option … on the contrary, he's actually one of the better ones. He’s handsome, sure, but you know the two of you don’t have any prospect of a romantic future - you had gone on a few dates in freshman year and soon learned that it's difficult to get him to stop talking about the gym for more than five minutes - so sharing a quick kiss shouldn’t make things weird between the two of you.

It’s not the first time you’ve done this, after all; he’s a decent kisser if memory serves. He'll do fine.

That being said, you try to ignore a strange feeling brewing in the back of your mind. It's subtle but it's there, gnawing at you - not exactly a feeling of disappointment, you don't think. Even if it is disappointment, it's certainly not because the bottle landed on Reiner.

You think it’s because the bottle didn't land on someone else.

Shaking off that feeling, you shift your legs so you're sitting comfortably in the centre of the circle. Reiner rolls his eyes when he sees you're waiting for him to come to you, but he obliges anyway.

"Hi," you say with a little laugh, unsure of how else to greet him.

"Hi," he repeats, grinning back, and once he sees that you’re ready he doesn’t wait for even a beat longer. He leans down to press his lips against yours.

As spin-the-bottle kisses go, it's good. Reiner knows what he's doing. He moves his lips against yours gently but firmly, and he doesn't push it by trying to slip you some tongue or anything. It's not heated or passionate, but it's nice. It's fine, just as you thought.

About ten seconds pass before you pull back, the cheers of your friends ringing in your ears.

That strange, inexplicably disappointed feeling is still there as you slip back to your space in the circle, eyes scanning the group as you take your place on the floor once again.

As chants of 'you're next' start to ring out again, you're relieved to see that it's Connie who's being summoned. The fact that he's next to take a turn means he can't try to annoy you about the kiss, and it means you have time to knock back the last of your beer before texting your housemate.

However, when you've settled back down and taken a steadying breath, you don't pick up your phone. Instead you glance around the circle in front of you again, properly taking stock of everyone’s reaction this time.

Eren's still blushing - that's kind of adorable, actually - and Reiner is looking surprisingly reserved next to him. He’s not too smug, thankfully. That would be annoying.

Sasha and Niccolo are cheering with their bottles, their arms thrown affectionately around each other. Next to then, Armin is laughing at some joke that Hitch has whispered into his ear.

Your eyes land on Jean next. He looks ... well, you're not really sure how he looks. He's wearing an expression you haven't seen on him before.

He certainly doesn't look happy but he's not angry, either; an almost-sullen look is written on his face, his features are neutral but his eyes are glowering as he meets your gaze across the room. His expression is uncharacteristically impassive.

He’s usually animated, chatty, confident; now, he’s near-impossible to read. You’d never thought Jean would be anything but an open book, but you cannot for the life of you determine how he’s feeling.

You quirk the corners of your lips up into a soft smile just to see if he responds, and he glances away.

It's not harsh, it's just the action of someone who’s stuck in his own reverie, but that strange feeling still weighs on you.

___

The hours pass quickly and the party slowly starts to die down. Because of the size of the group, you had just played one round of spin-the-bottle, but a few well-timed suggestions for other games (flip cup, Kings, amongst others) means that you're kept busy for most of the night.

It provides a welcome distraction for whatever unsettling realisation you had while sitting in the circle; that maybe, somewhere deep down, you could imagine kissing one of your friends.

That you want to kiss one of your friends, and that you’re torturing yourself with the thought that maybe he wants to kiss you too.

Checking your phone screen, you're informed that the time is now well after three a.m. This makes sense considering almost everyone who doesn't live here has now left, leaving the room more empty than you’d seen it in a while.

The apartment is shared by Mikasa, Sasha, Eren, and Connie, all of whom are now trying to pluck crushed-up solo cups from the kitchen floor so the mess isn't as bad tomorrow.

Apart from them, you and Jean are the only two remaining. Turns out Eren had offered Jean the couch too, unbeknownst to you or Mikasa, and it was too late for him to call a cab at this point.

Neither of you had discussed what you’re going to do about it.

"Guys, we can clean up," you offer, going to take the plastic bag from Sasha so you can pick up where she left off. "It'll give us some time to sort out who's taking the couch."

Sasha’s brow furrows. “Are you sure?"

“Positive.”

"Yep, sounds good," Jean agrees then, following your lead. "I can take the floor, anyway. All I need is a pillow and I'm good."

You look at him, unsure. You don’t want him to have a sleepless night for your sake. “Really?"

"I've slept worse places," he replies with the faintest of smiles. "Eren and Connie don't let me forget it."

"He passed out under an oak tree after a party last semester," Eren pipes up, answering your question before you even have to ask it. "Woke up covered in leaves."

"Maybe the floor isn't so bad, then," you acknowledge, though still throw him a quick glance - an 'are you sure?' sort of look - and he nods so as to put your mind at ease.

"As long as you're okay with it?" he asks. “Since you’ll be here too.”

You agree.

“Sounds good to me.”

___

"Are you gonna help me clean up, or just stand there eating that shitty pizza?"

Your playful taunt doesn't do anything to convince Jean to set down his meal. You shove a plastic cup into the bag for dramatic effect, and all it makes him do is laugh.

It's a nice sound. Unfortunately.

"They said they wanted to make a start on the clean-up, not finish it," he mumbles through a mouthful of pizza. "You're going overboard."

"I'm being considerate," you reply with faux indignance. "And I'm not tired yet."

"Then have some pizza."

"It's cold, Jean."

"It's best when it's cold!"

You pull a face. "It's not."

"Then stick it in the microwave," he responds without hesitation.

"It'll wake them all up!"

"With the noise you're making now they'll barely even hear it," Jean retorts, leaning down to pick up your bag and shaking the contents to demonstrate his point. Turns out that the sounds of your clean-up are considerably louder than the microwave would be.

"Okay, okay, stop," you chuckle, plying the bag from his hand to stop him from really pissing off your hosts.

"So, pizza?"

"No, I don't wanna go to sleep with garlic breath."

"No garlic on it. I had some before the- that game thing, earlier. And Connie didn't complain."

You laugh at that. "I'm good, still."

Jean sets his pizza down, arms crossed across his chest. That expression from earlier is back. It’s a little unsettling; he’s back to being closed-off, and you don’t know how to react. You’re so accustomed to seeing Jean’s emotions written all over his face.

"That game was something, huh?" he begins. His tone is conversational but you decide to err on the side of caution with your response.

"Yeah, it was fun, I guess."

He nods shortly. He’s looking a bit braver now, eyes peering over at you curiously.

"Yeah, I guess,” he repeats. He shuffles his feet just a little as a beat of silence passes. "So, Reiner and you-?"

He doesn't finish the sentence but trails off like it's a question. You set the bag down with surprise, turning to face him properly now. Mirroring his posture, you cross your arms over your chest. You smile, but likely look as perplexed as you feel.

"What do you mean 'Reiner and me'?"

Your own question isn't hostile, it's just curious. You have no idea where this is coming from.

Jean is starting to blush now, a soft pink hue forming on the bridge of his nose as he tries to form an answer.

"Just ... that was some kiss, I guess."

"Fairly standard," you say dismissively. "Nothing too special."

"Standard?"

"I mean, yeah, standard. For a game of spin-the-bottle, y'know?"

"I-"

He's acting funny. You've never seen him like this; the awkwardness, the staring when he thinks you're not looking, the fact he's dwelling on your kiss with Reiner ...

The realisation hits you out of nowhere as you gasp, interrupting him with a gleeful exclamation of -

"Jean, you're jealous!"

Far past a light blush at this stage, Jean's face is red with embarrassment ... and something else, maybe, but you're not certain. You don’t want to let hope cloud your judgement.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, playing down your excitement.

You're smiling now, confident still that your assumptions are correct. His reaction betrays him.

"Well you're acting jealous, anyway.”

He huffs a breath of air through his nose, shaking his head as if in disagreement (but really, you’re sure it's just to buy himself a little time.)

"I'm not jealous."

Even his outright denials aren't convincing you, and you think he knows that he's losing. He looks thrown-off. Every time he tells you that he isn’t jealous he gets closer and closer to blurting out the truth.

So you decide to put him out of his misery and throw down the gauntlet.

"I saw you looking at me after."

Your words take a moment to land with him. He blinks at you, genuinely surprised, but makes one last attempt at denial.

"After what?”

"After the kiss."

His arms are by his side now and you do the same, not wanting to seem unnecessarily intimidating.

You’re not trying to tease or annoy him.

All you want is for him to admit it, so you can do the same.

Because you wanted Jean to kiss you then. You want him to kiss you now. Maybe you’ve wanted to kiss him for a long time now.

He clears his throat and you meet his gaze head on. One of you will need to take the bait.

When someone finally gives in, it doesn’t come in the form of words. Neither of you says anything out loud.

Instead, Jean takes a step closer to you, testing the waters. Knowing that it isn’t fair for him to take all the action, you move closer too until you’re within touching distance.

He runs his tongue along his lower lip, slowly and carefully, and you look at him through your lashes.

You both snap at the exact same time.

Your mouths join together so quickly the breath is knocked from your chest, so desperate for closeness that you fist your hands into the fabric of his t-shirt to try and pull him closer.

He kisses you messily but it’s just what you need; the momentum built so quickly that just a soft peck on the lips wouldn’t suffice. Encouraged by your reaction he runs his hands along your lower back, fingertips skirting the waistband of your jeans as you slide your fingers up into his hair.

You can feel his smile against your lips. Bolts of excitement rush straight to your chest, increasing tenfold when his tongue pushes into your mouth with a gentle confidence.

Jean is no longer withdrawn, self-conscious, uncertain. This Jean knows exactly what you want from him.

It starts with gentle licks against your tongue, deliberate and tantalising, then grows in intensity until you’re pressed against the countertop, making out with him like two desperate teenagers. He makes little sounds of approval as you run your hands all over him, unsure of where you want to touch next; it all seems so good. You want all of him.

Turns out, this must have been a long time coming.

You kiss him like you’ve been thinking about it for years, since you first met him at freshman orientation. Years of friendship had pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, but they’re all coming out now, erupting in a haze of want and lust and a need to taste more of him.

You can feel something hard press against your hip as he keeps your body pressed against his. Even through several layers of clothing you can tell he’s impressive, the firm thickness straining against his jeans making your mouth water as you lower your hand to rub it.

Jean exhales low and gravelly, his breath coming out shaky as he tries to keep his hips from bucking against your hands. You’re stroking him now, eager to see more of his reactions to the lightest of touches. He’s so pretty like this.

You both reach the point of needing more, the teasing having reached a threshold where you needed to do something about the throbbing between your legs; rubbing your thighs together had helped just a bit, but you wanted his touch. You need more stimulation, and the look on his face shows he’s ready to give it to you.

There’s just one obstacle …

“We need to be quiet,” he mumbles, pulling away for just a moment. His lips are so kiss-slick and perfect that it takes phenomenal amounts of self control to not lean in and take him into your mouth again. “We need to be really quiet, y’know…”

“I know,” you whisper back. “I know. Probably better to … to move this to the couch. Further away from their bedrooms.”

“Good thinking,” he agrees. You pull back, missing the heat of his body as soon as you do so but the thought of what’s coming next is more than enough motivation. You take his hand and he grins at your eagerness, guiding him into the living room and waiting for him to sit down on the couch before climbing onto his lap to straddle him.

“God, you feel good,” he says, quiet as he can as you pepper kisses along his jawline. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

“Like from earlier-?”

He lets out a breathy laugh. “Longer than that. But yeah, earlier … I wanted you - fucking hell, keep your mouth there - I wanted that bottle to land on me. I wanted you to sit in the centre of that circle and look at me like you did in the kitchen just there, all giggly, like you know exactly what I’m thinking about doing to you.”

“What were you thinking about doing?” you ask, rolling your hips against the bulge in his jeans. He groans and the sound goes straight to your cunt, the wetness between your legs becoming more distracting. You decide to put him (and yourself) out of his misery just a bit, unzipping his pants and taking him out of his underwear.

He’s thick and heavy in your hand, his cock throbbing noticeably when you run a finger along the prominent vein on the underside. You circle the head with your thumb and watch as his breath goes stuttery again, all words having vanished from his vocabulary completely.

But you’re not ready for him to stop talking. You liked what he was saying - liked it a lot - and you need to hear more.

But you won’t go about it without giving him encouragement, of course.

“Tell me what you wanted to do,” you whisper as you start stroking him in earnest.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, lips pulled tight as he tries to keep quiet. He only speaks once your movements start to slow.

“Keep going … please,” he begs softly, “I’ll tell you. Just please keep doing that.”

You resume your pace and he starts speaking.

“I wanted to … wanted to be the one who got to kiss you. Wouldn’t have been like your one with Reiner, though; maybe it’s a good thing it didn’t land on me, because I wouldn’t … fuck … wouldn’t have been able to keep from slipping my tongue into your mouth. Wanted to touch you so bad,” and with the last part of the sentence, he unbuttons your jeans with one hand and starts to tug them down.

You raise your hips from his lap to allow him access, and once he has a better grip he pulls your underwear down as well, baring your wet cunt to the cool air as you sit back down on his lap. The warmth of his skin against your thighs makes you tremble and he notices, slipping that same hand between your legs and sliding his index finger up through your puffy folds.

His thighs are thick and broad and so there’s room for you to keep working him in your hand as he starts playing with you, his legs keeping you spread open for him. He rubs the pearl of your clit with his thumb just as you had teased him a few moments ago, and now it’s you who is unable to articulate any of your thoughts.

“You wanted me to touch you earlier?” he prompts, seeing the already fucked-out expression on your face. When you don’t answer he starts to move his hand away so you open your mouth without even thinking your answer through.

“Yes, I wanted you to touch me,” you gasp when you feel two fingers push inside you, “I wanted you to kiss me in front of everyone then take me back to the kitchen and … fuck, I wanted you to bend me over. I wanted this inside me,” and with a firm upward stroke Jean’s hips buck against you.

With his middle and ring-finger now fucking you open, he uses his thumb to circle your clit with a steady pace that matches your grip on his cock. He keeps going, keeps hitting that place deep inside you that makes you see stars, your wetness and the slick sound of skin touching skin all you can hear.

You’re trying to keep quiet but he’s making it exceptionally difficult. Every twist of his wrist, every flick of his thumb, it’s all so carefully planned. You’re ready for him - you’ve been ready for a while - but it’s near-impossible to verbalise it without letting a moan slip out.

Here you are, spread open on your friends’ couch, with only a couple of walls in the way to stifle any of the lewd noises you’re making … but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re burning for him, your core already tightening around his fingers, and Jean’s cock is flushed with arousal, precum dribbling from the top and coating your palm.

Wordlessly you shift your hips, nearly crying at the loss of sensation when his fingers pull out and you still the motions of your fist. He glances up and you know he’s thinking the same thing you are.

“They keep a box of condoms in the bathroom cabinet,” he says, voice hushed and low, “saw it last time I stayed over.”

You nod and lift yourself from his lap, laying your back down against the couch so Jean can walk to the bathroom. He tugs his pants up over his hips but shrugs off his shirt; you do the same, enjoying the flattering look on Jean’s face as he takes in your naked body for the first time.

He hesitates as if torn between wanting to stay here looking at you bare and wanting beneath him, or going to get the condom so he can actually be inside you - both options have him in a chokehold. He wants to be two places at once.

After you smile up at him, doe-eyed and almost innocent, he makes up his mind. He heads to the bathroom and after a few quiet shuffling noises and the sound of a foil wrapper tearing open, he returns to you, pulling you in for a searing kiss. Any remaining items of clothing are shed as you spread your legs, pulling him down to lay on top of you, the heat of his body against yours driving you insane.

He’s all lean muscle and strength but he’s so gentle with the way he handles you now, resting his palms on your hips as he positions himself to finally fuck you. He meets your gaze one more time, scanning your face with a look that is as enticing as it is heartwarming. He wants you to be comfortable. He wants this to be good for you.

“Ready for you,” you murmur, grabbing his shoulders as you reassure him of how desperately you want this. “Want you inside me.”

When he first pushes in it’s a stretch, even though you’d only been seconds away from coming all over his fingers. He’s so thick it takes a moment to adjust, wiggling your hips as he pushes in so slowly, eyes not leaving your face as he does so. It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to overcome the feeling of being stretched.

By the time his cock is fully seated inside you, hips pressed flush together, he’s looking far more wrecked than you are.

Jean’s biting his lip, hips jerking forward in short shallow motions as he tries to keep from fucking into you before he’s ready. You know from the grip on your waist that he’s trying to hold back, not wanting this sensation to be over too quickly.

When he pulls back and thrusts back in, you can’t help but let out a mewl of pleasure; you know you shouldn’t, it’s too risky, but the noise escapes you before you can even think twice about it.

Jean clasps a hand over your mouth, using the other as leverage on your waist to keep fucking into you.

“Gotta keep quiet for me baby, okay?”

You nod, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes as you try to cant your hips to meet his thrusts.

“I know it’s hard,” he whispers, kissing the apples of his cheeks, “I wish you could keep making those little noises, you’ve no fucking idea what they do to me … but we’ve gotta keep it down. For tonight, anyway. Can you do that for me?” You nod again. “That’s my girl.”

The words make you tighten around him and he looks at you desperately, pulling his hand away for just a moment as he slots his lips against yours again. You think at first he does it just to make sure you’ll stay quiet, but you can feel the vibrations of moans caught in his own throat - the kiss is as much for him as it is for you.

He keeps up his pace throughout, his cock hitting the same spot that his fingers toyed with earlier, and the stretch has faded entirely into a gorgeous fullness. Every time you think you can’t hit another crest of pleasure without coming, he’ll shift ever-so-slightly and the change in angle will make you tighten your grip on his shoulders.

Already your nails have left little crescent-moon indentations on his skin. He doesn’t seem to mind though, letting out a broken sigh when you drag your nails down at a particularly strong thrust.

You’re close. You’re so close, teetering at the edge and seconds away from collapsing into it, and you still have no idea how you’re going to keep quiet.

“Jean-“ you begin, the tremble in your voice tipping his off as to what you need.

He brings his hand back to your mouth but instead of covering it with his palm, he takes the same fingers that were fucking you before and slips them between your lips. You open your mouth for him willingly, tasting yourself on his skin, and then you’re finished.

The makeshift gag of his fingers in your mouth are barely enough to keep you from crying out. All you can feel is the warm glow of pleasure running through your veins, radiating from your core out to your whole body, making your body feel weightless and your mind go utterly and completely blank.

You want to scream for him. You want to him to know exactly what he’s doing to you, but you can barely keep your eyes open.

When the spasms of your orgasm have slowed to a gentle throbbing, you open your eyes just enough to see Jean tip over the edge himself.

You’re so, so glad you opened your eyes, because the sight before you is so gorgeous it nearly pushes you to come again; Jean’s pretty face twisted in pleasure, his pupils blown out and his brows pulled together as he thrusts into you one more time before coming as deep inside you as he can.

It feels almost cruel but you can’t resist; you suck on his fingers as he comes, making his eyes darken even further.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeats like a mantra, as if it’s the only word he can say to hold back screams of his own, “fuck, you’re so … still throbbing around me, fuck, fuck.”

After a moment, he stills inside you. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he rests his head against your chest, breathing heavily as he tries to collect himself. It’s not much help since the raise and fall of your breathing is just as strong as his own, but it’s comforting having him so close.

It takes even longer to come down from it fully; the intensity of your orgasm made your legs feel weak under your, and it’s difficult to sit upright when Jean finally pulls out. Once he’s cleared up the condom and returned to the couch, you’re still laying flat on your back, face warm to the touch and covered with a faint sheen of sweat.

You feel spent and messy, too tired to care about appearances, but he pulls you in for another kiss that makes you feel so important, so valued, so safe with him.

Once he’s helped you pull on a t-shirt and some shorts that Mikasa had left out, it doesn’t take long to fall asleep in his arms. You don’t even consider how your friends might wake in the morning and find you like this, head resting affectionately in the nook of Jean’s shoulder.

Sleep finds you before you can even start to worry about things like that.

—

The next morning, you wake to find no sign of Jean. You bolt upright in a panic; there’s a folded-up blanket on the floor along with a pillow, and his shoes are lined up in the corner of the room so he’s still here somewhere. He hadn’t left, at least. You’re not ready to leave things so open-ended with him.

You’re just about to go searching for him before a familiar laugh echoes out from the kitchen as Sasha finishes telling some story from last night. From the sounds of it, Jean, Eren and Sasha are preparing some coffee; the smell of it wafts in to the living room and wakes you up fully.

Connie steps into the living room with two mugs in hand, greeting you with a cheery “hey, you’re up!” as he hands you one of the drinks prepared just how you like it.

“Jean took the floor after all?” he inquires. You mumble something unintelligible as you take a sip of the coffee, blowing it slightly to cool it down.

Connie takes a seat on the couch, and you suddenly feel immense gratitude for having the sense to spread Jean’s hoodie on the seats before you two ...

“Glad he’s doing better this morning,” Connie notes, interrupting your thoughts. “He got over his jealousy, apparently.”

“What do you mean?”

He turns to you, an eyebrow quirked up. “You really don’t know?”

You shake your head, hearing the sounds of Eren, Jean and Sasha preparing breakfast in the kitchen.

“I think he got a bit bummed out after spin-the-bottle yesterday,” Connie says, voice quiet even though there’s no chance anyone could hear him. “He couldn’t even talk to Reiner for two hours after.”

“And why’s that?” you ask, keeping as straight a face as possible.

Connie glances over at the kitchen once more for good measure, before leaning in close and whispering.-

“He’ll kill me for saying this, but he’s got a bit of a crush on you.”

#jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean x you #jean kirstein x you #may tries to write #will edit this properly soon!#Jean Kirschtein x Reader #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirstein smut

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 8 months

Text

Common Grounds / Chapter 11

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Derrick the Asshole Ex (needs his own warning), case stuff (any inaccuracies about how the FBI works is my own lack of research), two GODDAMN ADORABLE IDIOTS in love, unprotected PIV sex, feelings feelings FEELINGS FEELINGS FEELIGNSGS

Summary: Derrick does his damndest to ruin your night, but it turns out that one asshole can't stand in the way of....... love.

A/N: IDK it's 10:30 and I'm sleepy thanks everyone for encouraging me to finish this goofball of a fic but especially @littlebirdsbookshelf who is the loveliest of humans and beta read *most* of this chapter before I yeeted it out LOL. There will be an epilogue to follow!!! Thank you everyone for reading!

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“This is quite the change for you,” your ex says condescendingly, looking around the gallery with an expression of disdain. “How the hell did you go from shilling your crap online to booking the nicest event space in the area?”

“Derrick, stop—”

“Oh, wait—I think I’ve figured it out,” the man sneers. “I like to do my research on who my ex-fiancée thinks she should fuck. Special Agent Pike, was it? Art Crimes, right? What a coincidence!”

Your heart seems to stop beating. Marcus’s head snaps toward the two of you, his eyes dark and full of warning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell Derrick icily.

“She’s using you, you know,” Derrick continues, looking at your boyfriend with a glint in his eye. “It’s what she does. She can’t make it on her own, so she picks men who will bankroll her little hobby and then leaves them in the dust after she bleeds you dry.”

“That’s not true,” you say through clenched teeth. “You don’t know anything about me. Or him. Or us.”

“Don’t I?” he retorts. “What if I were to, say, make a scene right now? Start yelling that this entire place is swarming with cops? Would that be a problem?”

You panic, eyes shooting to Marcus in horror. It looks as though he’s about to say something, but he pauses, blinking rapidly a few times—listening intently. Shit.

Derrick laughs. “Oh, isn’t that rich? You’re perfect for each other. You’re using him to get a leg up, and he’s using you for his little sting operation.”

Your ex’s volume is getting louder and louder. Heads are starting to turn. You scan the gallery frantically—a large number of waitstaff is starting to converge on the same area off to your right. Marcus looks conflicted. Desperately, his eyes flick between you and Derrick, even as he takes a few halting steps away from you. Maybe Derrick was right—but maybe it’s you who needs to cause a scene. Time seems to slow down; suddenly, everything seems crystal clear. You give Marcus a small, reassuring smile before turning your back on him and starting down your ex.

“You can’t just come here and try to ruin the life I’ve built!” you exclaim, speaking loud enough for the surrounding patrons to hear. As predicted, most people’s attention is now turned to the unfolding drama rather than the quick footsteps of Marcus, surrounded by several waiters, heading toward the back of the gallery.

“It’s over, Derrick! You can try to goad me all you want, but the truth is, I’ve found all I need without you. And you’re wrong—I’m not using him at all. I love him!”

The last words are damn-near shouted. They seem to echo in the crowded gallery.

Marcus stops in his tracks, whirling around on the spot to stare at you, open-mouthed.

“I love him!” you call out, looking right at Marcus as you say it again. “I love him.”

Even from across the room, you can see his lower lip tremble. But then—he turns away, looking as though doing so causes him unimaginable pain.

Attention starts to turn to Marcus, rather than the apparent row between two ex-lovers. Shit. You need to escalate this, and fast.

“Anyway, you couldn’t please a woman if you tried!” you hurl the out-of-the-blue accusation at Derrick, who looks murderous. “Like, even if your dick wasn’t that small, the real problem is that you don’t seem to have any idea how to use it!”

The crowd titters, and you keep going, feeling emboldened.

“Yeah, turns out orgasms are the one thing you can’t buy,” you quip. “Or at least, you can’t. I can buy them just fine—got myself a vibrator the day I walked out and left that awful engagement ring on the counter.”

A large, meaty hand lands on your shoulder, and you startle slightly. Agent Bear, as you’ve begun calling him in your head, who looks rather comical in his waiter’s tuxedo, leans down the foot and a half it takes for him to murmur in your ear.

“That’s enough. C’mon.”

“I—I was trying to—”

“I know exactly what you were trying to do. You did good, kid. Boss wants you out of the building for this next part.”

You let the behemoth of a man escort you through the kitchen and out through the dock entrance, leaving Derrick, sputtering and red-faced, behind you.

“I can’t believe I just yelled about my ex’s dick size at my first art exhibition,” you murmur to yourself as you follow the man toward the surveillance van around the corner.

“As distractions go, it was certainly creative,” the agent offers placatingly.

“What’s going on?” you ask when you reach the SUV. “Is Marcus okay? Is the guy in custody?”

“Everything is going as expected,” the agent tells you, which isn’t the most detailed explanation, and you sigh in frustration.

“So why am I being escorted out of the building?”

“This was always the plan,” he explains. “Marcus didn’t want you anywhere near the op until the building was cleared again, safe or not.”

“Why?”

The large man gives you a funny look. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

He purses his lips thoughtfully, as though trying to find a way to choose his next words carefully. “I haven’t known the boss for that long, mind you, but I know this—he’s stubborn, loyal, and goddamn fucking protective about the people he cares about. And he spared no expense once you agreed to come on board—bought a bunch’a new equipment because he couldn’t run the risk of any blip in communication. Hell, he’s been putting the whole fucking team through dry runs at the venue for the past month and keeping us late at the shooting range to make sure we were all sharp. This whole damn thing has been planned out to the letter, and he made it pretty fucking clear what would happen if a single hair on your head even came close to being harmed. I dunno what your feelings are for the man, but I thought you had to know already—he’s head over heels crazy for you.”

“…Oh.”

“You yelling you loved him across the damn room—that wasn’t part of your little scene-stealing strategy?”

You shake your head solemnly. “Of course not.”

“Good.” The agent nods, his jaw set. “Good. That’s good.”

“What happens to the show?” you ask quietly. “Is it just… over now? Everyone goes home?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, you can go back in once the team clears out. Pike didn’t want this to cause too much disruption. Said this was your first exhibition, that right?”

You nod. “Yup.”

“He didn’t want to sell you short. Made sure that the event would be able to continue after all the Feds leave,” the agent says with a wry grin.

“Is it safe?” you ask warily.

“Oh yeah,” he nods. “But I’m your assigned security detail for the rest of the night anyway.”

You huff out a quiet laugh. “Sorry you have to play babysitter to the boss’s girlfriend.”

“Nah, my pleasure. It’s because of you we were able to put this whole thing on in the first place.” He pauses, looking off to the side and nodding imperceptibly. When he speaks again, it’s clear he’s not addressing you anymore. “Copy. I’ll take her back in.” Standing, he holds out one giant palm to help you up. “Your time to shine, kid.”

“Is Marcus okay?” you ask again.

The agent snorts. “‘Course he’s fine. Suspect is under arrest and the team is headed back to HQ to finish up and get the perp booked. Said he’d come back as soon as he could.”

You nod, walking back through the now-empty kitchen. Guess you had to get here early if you wanted snacks, you think with a wry smile. There are fewer patrons milling around now, but that only means you can have longer, more meaningful conversations about your pieces with people who are genuinely interested. Checking your phone for any messages from Marcus, you realize you have hundreds of new notifications on your Instagram page, and a handful of online sales. It really was a success. Staged or not, maybe this exhibition is going to be the break you need.

The gallery finally starts to empty as the hour draws late. Pretty soon, the lights are being turned off and the doors locked—and Marcus still isn’t here.

“I can drive you home,” your security detail suggests. “Pike can meet you there, instead.”

“He said he’d be here,” you say in a small voice.

The man holds up his hands. “Up to you.”

You wait.

And wait.

Finally, you hear quick footsteps echoing in the large hall, and you look up from the not-so-rousing game of Solitaire on your phone—which you insisted on playing, even with your battery at 20%.

Marcus.

You jump to your feet, heart in your throat. Agent Bear mumbles a goodbye and exits out one of the side doors, but you hardly notice. You can only stare at the man at the other side of the room.

He stares back.

Both of you seem to move at the same time. Marcus crosses the gallery in several long strides and you rush forward to meet him. You collide in the middle, lips bruising and hands gripping hard. He crushes your body against his, one hand around your back to press you closer and the other holding your jaw firm as he kisses you—deep and passionate and so full of emotion you feel as though you might burst.

When the heat subsides and the movement of your lips naturally begins to change–slowing, gentling–Marcus’s breath is shaky on your face as he carefully brings both hands up to cradle your cheeks. His eyes bright and shining full of moisture, his thumbs gently trace the curve of your cheekbones.

“I love you, too,” he whispers ardently. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you,” you repeat back. A tear slips down your cheek; Marcus catches it with his thumb.

“I love you,” he says again. “Baby, that might have been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do—turn my back on you like that.” “I’m sorry. I just—I couldn’t hold it in anymore, not when Derrick was saying all those awful things. I just needed you to know that none of it was true.”

“Couldn’t hold it in anymore?” Marcus repeats, searching your face with a growing smile.

“ I—I’ve never felt this was about anyone. I can’t help but think it whenever I look at you.”

Marcus brings his mouth to yours in another passionate, electrifying kiss. Your cheeks are damp, and you can’t tell whether the cause is you or him. You’re hardly able to take notice anyway, the way his kiss consumes you. It’s everything; he’s everything, and you love each other, and everything is finally going to be okay.

“I love you,” he whispers again. “You were amazing tonight; I was so proud of you.”

“It went really well,” you say, smiling. “I got more sales than I expected, plus a ton of hits online. And I got to say some really cathartic shit to Derrick as a bonus.”

Marcus chuckles. “Wish I could have seen that.”

“I told basically the entire gallery that he couldn’t please a woman.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiles, fondly, and presses one last kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry I’m so late coming back. Are you ready to go?”

You thread your hands together and nod. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Doesn’t matter, just want to be in private as soon as possible.”

Marcus’s eyes darken; his smile turns mischievous. “In that case, my place is closer.”

“That settles it.”

Despite the proximity of Marcus’s apartment, he might have broken at least five traffic laws on the way in his haste to get you alone. You nearly run down the hall to get to his door, and when it bangs open, you’re both reaching for each other with similar fervor.

Your back hits the wall with a soft thunk as Marcus pushes you backward, not so much kissing you as devouring you. Your hands thread into his hair in an attempt to ground yourself, nails scraping against his scalp until he groans brokenly.

“Fuck, I love you,” he rasps. His hands are hasty in their actions–getting access to as much of your skin as possible in as little time–and you both moan together as he roughly pulls your blouse from being tucked neatly into your slacks and his warm palms slide up the bare skin of your sides.

You frantically join him, fingers fumbling at the buckle of his belt and trying to pull his pants down without actually undoing them.

Marcus laughs giddily without breaking the kiss, trying to unbutton them at the same time you’re already shoving them down his hips. He finally manages to kick them off, along with his underwear, with his lips still stubbornly fused to yours. Your pants receive the same treatment, both of you too lost in the moment to be methodical in your actions as fabric is shoved haphazardly out of the way.

When your legs are likewise bare, one leg automatically hooks around Marcus’s hip in an attempt to get him closer, closer, closer, and he obliges enthusiastically–pressing into your core with a soft grunt.

It’s not enough, not nearly enough, you need him in you, and he must feel the same, because with a little growl of frustration, he reaches around to pull your other leg around him as he lifts you off of the floor and presses you up against the wall to finally be able to sheathe himself within you in one fluid motion.

Your head thunks against the wall as you draw a ragged gasp of breath into your lungs. Marcus’s lips automatically attach to your bared neck, his teeth scraping gently against your skin as he starts to frantically pound you into the wall. The sound is obscene–the slap of your bodies, the frantic, blissed-out noises of pleasure you’re both making, and the loud, rhythmic thunk of your bodies as they hit the wall over and over and over…

…You hope, for Marcus’s neighbors’ sake, that this is an outside wall.

He drills into you–deep, impossibly deep and your back arches to meet his thrusts, but each movement causes your spine to rub painfully into the wall, your core is already burning as you try to stay in place, and despite how fucking good he’s fucking you right now, your orgasm remains elusive.

Marcus suddenly lets out a rather undignified noise, his face contorting into discomfort rather than pleasure, and before you know it, the mood has changed and the two of you are laughing yourselves breathless at the awkwardness of the position.

“F-Fuck, my back,” he manages to gasp out in between giggles. You tip your head back as your chest heaves with peals of laughter, and you feel yourself sliding slowly down the wall as Marcus’s strength gives out and the two of you collapse into a still-laughing, undignified heap on his entryway floor.

“Always looks so hot in videos,” you say, voice still wavering with mirth.

“Bit harder in real life,” Marcus chuckles, finding your lips again and giving you several soft, smiling kisses.

“Got a better idea,” you murmur against his lips.

“Bed?”

“Too far,” you argue. “Sit up. I’m gonna–”

Marcus scrambles into a seated position against the wall, and you follow him immediately–climbing onto his lap and sinking down onto his cock with a soft whimper at the stretch of him.

“Baby,” he whispers, soothing the little wrinkle of discomfort on your forehead with his thumb as his eyes flick over your face, cataloging your reactions.

“‘S’okay,” you reassure him breathlessly. “I’m okay.”

When you start to rock your hips, grinding yourself on Marcus’s cock, your mouth falls open with overwhelming pleasure.

“Fucking love you,” you murmur, and he responds by trying to pull you closer even though there hardly seems to be any space between you already.

“Never gonna get tired of hearing you say that,” Marcus says, voice rough with pleasure or emotion–you aren’t sure which.

“I love you,” you tell him again, and his eyes slip closed with what could either be agony or euphoria. And perhaps it’s both, really. You’d understand. The emotion burns so strongly within you that the reality of it almost hurts. Your heart aches with it.

Your movements increase in intensity as you chase the feeling building deep inside you. It’s not simply arousal, and really, it never has been with Marcus. It’s a deep sense of joy, satisfaction, and safety. Maybe you’ve always known it–Marcus is it for you. The realization almost makes you lose track of the moment–you’re not with your body, you’re elsewhere, looking down on the two of you, desperately entwined on the floor not two feet from the front door.

“Wanna feel you come for me,” Marcus murmurs, one hand leaving your hip to rub little circles on your clit. “Baby, please.”

The action causes arousal to surge within you; you feel yourself getting even wetter, and Marcus can feel it too, because he makes a low noise in his throat as he watches you ride him.

“Never gonna get tired of this either,” he rasps. “The way you look when you’re about to come undone–fucking divine. That look you get, like you can’t believe you can feel this good… fuck, the fact that it’s me that makes you look like that–” He cuts off with a broken sound, his grip on your hip bruising as he loses himself in the moment.

“It’s you,” you say shakily, nodding frantically as you chase your release. “Only you. You’re the only one who could ever make me feel like this.”

You don’t just mean the waves of pleasure building within you, and Marcus seems to understand, because his eyebrows turn upward in awe, his lips parting as he gazes up at you with nothing short of reverence.

“Show me,” he says quietly, his lips barely moving. “Let go. Come for me.”

A few more halting, violent rocks of your hips is all it takes before you slump onto Marcus’s chest, unable to hold yourself upright as the feeling sweeps throughout your entire body. He holds you close, taking over the motions and fucking up into you as you convulse with aftershocks. You’re hardly aware of how loud you’re being, crying out and whimpering and sobbing into his shoulder as he fucks you through it, but as you come down, you can hear his soft, lilting voice in your ear.

“So good for me, honey–fuck, you feel so good. Look so beautiful when you come, my pretty girl. So fucking beautiful all the time, I can hardly believe you’re mine.”

You whimper softly and tighten your hold around him as you nod into his shoulder. “I need–” you start, not entirely sure where the sentence was going, but Marcus nods anyway.

“I know, baby, I know.”

He surges forward, gently depositing you on your back on the floor before covering your body with his and fucking into you with abandon.

“F-fuck, mine,” he rasps. “Mine.”

“Yes,” you gasp–each thrust punching the air out of your lungs as Marcus chases his release. “Yes, yes, yes, yes–”

It doesn’t take long before he stills, burying himself deep inside you with a low groan of your name. For a few moments, the only sound is your labored breathing as you both come back to yourselves. Marcus gently touches his forehead to yours, his soft exhales shaky and wavering against your cheeks.

The air is thick with something–emotion, tension, or maybe the opposite: relief. The moment itself feels like an exhale, like your shoulder muscles can start to ease downward. Like if you needed support–or anything–you know there's someone you can depend on.

And he, you.

“...Are you?” Marcus asks–quietly and hesitantly, as though he’s ashamed to say the words out loud. “Are you mine?”

You bring your palm to his cheek and watch his eyelashes flutter at the soft touch.

"Depends… are you mine as well?"

He pulls back, pure sincerity in his gaze as he looks in your eyes.

"I think I was waiting for you this whole time," he intones quietly. "I'm yours. Of course I’m yours. Completely, and unequivocally."

You smile and bring his face back down towards yours for a kiss.

“How’s the back?”

“Hurts.”

“Wanna get off the floor?”

Marcus looks sheepish. “I didn’t want to say anything, but… yeah, oh my God, I need to lie down.”

You giggle–breath hitching in the middle as his softening cock slips from you. With twin smiles, the two of you gingerly get up, grabbing your discarded layers of clothing and heading toward Marcus’s bedroom. He collapses on the bed with a loud sigh and scrubs his hands over his face.

“I think I aged five years during this op,” he grumbles as you plop down beside him.

“I thought everything went according to plan,” you offer, frowning in confusion.

“Oh, it did. I haven’t had any single mission in my career go better, but… Fuck, there’s a reason for that. I’ve been running the whole damn team ragged for a month, doing drills and–”

“–keeping them late at the shooting range?”

Marcus frowns. “How did you know that?”

“My security detail told me about the pains you took to keep me safe. Or rather, how you ‘made it pretty fucking clear what would happen if a single hair on my head even came close to being harmed.’”

“I–I can explain–”

“He said you were ‘head over heels crazy’ for me,” you say, raising one eyebrow coyly.

“Well,” Marcus drops his gaze and grins widely, showing his teeth. “That’s certainly accurate.”

“Why did you ask for my help, if you spent the last month stressed out of your mind?”

He bites his lip as he seemingly gathers his thoughts. “To be completely honest, I said what I said that first time in the moment, without really thinking about it,” he explains. “But once Pandora’s box was opened, so to speak, it was hard to just… put it all away. The more I thought about it, the more it was perfect. Not only does the team get an ideal setup to catch a long-time art thief, but you get an opportunity that precious few artists are ever awarded. I couldn’t… it couldn’t not be you.”

You frown slightly as disparate, confused thoughts swirl around your brain. “I never asked to be a charity case–”

“No,” Marcus interrupts. “Oh, God, no–it was just—Well, we had to ask someone to put on a fake art show, and all things being equal, I wanted it to be you.”

“Why?”

Marcus’s gaze softens. “Because I love you, silly. Head over heels, remember? You’ve given me so much, and I just wanted to give you this.”

Your breath hitches at the devotion in his words. His eyes are so full of love, you don’t even know what to say. In the past, you’ve been so used to “gifts” being double-sided and deceitful. You don’t know what to do with Marcus, who simply… gives you things. Because he wants to.

“Thank you,” you finally whisper.

He smiles slowly, eyes brimming with emotion. “I was so proud of you. You know that, right? Every time I would turn and look at you, I just–” he cuts off, shaking his head and looking down. “Baby, I was in awe of you. I just need you to know that.”

“I know that.”

You risk a glance at the clock, and wince.

“Oh, my God. It’s two am.”

Marcus grimaces. “Guess we get to sleep in tomorrow.”

“I’ve got an opening shift.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Of course you do,” he groans.

“I’ll be quiet,” you promise.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll get up and make you coffee.”

“You… you don’t have to do that,” you tell him hesitantly.

“I want to,” Marcus corrects. “I’m here with you. We’re doing this–everything–together, right?”

You reach over to turn off the bedside lamp, and then settle back against his warm side.

“Right.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal

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bakuliwrites · 2 years

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M6 Proposing to MC

Hi everyone! So I decided I would repost some of my favorite headcanons from my old blog. Sorry if you've seen these already, but I just wanted to have them up on my Tumblr (in addition to where they are on AO3). Just as a heads up: I do not take requests. Hope you enjoy :) As with all my headcanons: Apprentice/MC is gender-neutral unless otherwise specified. This isn't new content, just organizing my new blog and transferring stuff from my old one. This will be part of headcanon Tuesday on my blog.

You and Asra have been together for a long time now, long enough where people just sort of assume you're already married. You live together, you run your shop together, you travel together, and so on. Nothing has really been stopping you, it's just that the two of you have been so busy these last few years. Asra really wants to make it official with you, though. You're the absolute love of his life. He hardly remembers a time before you. You've been on a great many journeys together, but he wants to go on even more. So he starts planning...

One evening, when you close up shop, Asra tells you he has a special surprise waiting for you. He's got that mischievous glint in his eye that he always gets when he's up to something. You can't help but laugh as Asra instructs you to wear something that you'd wear to the beach ("Like a swimsuit?" you ask, skeptically. The smirk on Asra's face grows wider and he shrugs, "I don't know. Whatever you wear to the beach." So helpful, Asra)

Asra guides you down to the shoreline, but doesn't stop there. He keeps going until you get to this secluded little cove. From here, you can see the far off lights of Vesuvia twinkling under a dark, velvet sky. Asra lets you pause to take in the view before beckoning you to follow him again. He leads you into a small cave, pitch black at its entrance. You're about to ask him where on earth he's leading you when all of a sudden you're met with bursts of magic like tiny fireworks and glowing mist swirling gently above and around you. Asra smiles softly at you, that impish glint growing brighter with each step you take.

The cave leads out to a small alcove that opens up onto the water. It's absolutely gorgeous. It's like you can see the whole ocean from here. It's here that Asra sets up a small picnic for you, filled with all your favorite foods and desserts and drinks! "MC, will you lay out the blanket for me? I have to grab something from the basket," he asks. You don't think much of it, though there's something a bit strange in his voice. When you're finished with your task, you whirl around and there's Asra, on one knee, holding out a beautiful, bohemian style ring. "MC, you have my heart, and always will. We've been on all kinds of journeys together. But I want to go on even more with you. I wanted to know if you'd like to share all of life's many adventures with me?" His voice is calm but his hands are shaking. And when you say yes, happy tears stream down his face. He slips the ring on your finger before crashing his lips into yours. Asra is utterly delighted💜

Nadia has been a bit wary of marriage since her first one turned out so poorly. But with you, everything's different. She's ecstatic, actually, to marry you and has been planning her proposal for basically an eternity now. She wants it to go just right. She has checklists, plans, spreadsheets, and so on for this proposal (none that you're privy to, she keeps them very well hidden). She almost had a heart attack one day when you walked into her office while she was working out some bugs in her plans (though she kept her cool so well, you didn't even notice).

The day she's planning to propose to you, however, everything goes wrong. The florist brings the wrong flowers (Nadia had specifically asked for orchids, but they brought white roses and she shudders, thinking of Lucio). All of the musicians she had in her string quartet canceled, except for the bassist (she sighs, supposing you could have a good background beat when she proclaims her undying love for you). And to top it all off, it's pouring rain (she was planning on proposing out on the veranda, under the pinks and oranges of a beautiful sunset, but alas). She's not upset, just extremely disappointed. All that planning and for what? No matter, she'll simply have to switch gears, she tells herself calmly (but she is anything but calm).

She sends everybody home (florist, bassist, caterers, and so on). When you enter the palace, you're practically drenched from your walk from your shop. Nadia is waiting for you, prepared with a towel and warm tea (or cocoa, whatever you prefer). She directs you to one of the many fireplaces and sits you down on a chaise lounge. You beg her to come snuggle up beside you, excited to have her all to yourself that evening, but she simply stands before you, fidgety and anxious looking. She's acting strangely, her crimson eyes hardly able to make contact with you. "Nadia, what's wrong?" you venture, and all of a sudden, Nadia freezes like she's just seen a ghost. You've never seen her this worked up before. It's quite alarming, actually!

You open your mouth to say something more, worry furrowing your brows, when all of a sudden, Nadia takes a deep breath. She kneels down to the ground in front of you and takes both your hands in hers. Her air of calm returns and soothes you out of your initial concern. "MC," she begins in her dulcet tone, "I'd planned out this- elaborate evening for us and, of course, I was thwarted," she laughs a little, her smile crinkling the corner of her eyes, "It's a long story, but suffice to say, just having you here, snuggling up by the fire together- well, I'd say that's a pretty perfect evening, in and of itself. So I'll take this perfect moment to ask you..." She pulls something out from the pocket of her dress. It's a square, velvet box that she opens, revealing an elegant, sparkling ring. "MC, will you marry me?" She holds her breath, watching your stunned face as you go through a thousand different emotions at once (all of them good). When you say yes, she exhales, tears falling gently down her cheeks as she slips the ring on your finger and presses her lips tenderly to yours 💜

Julian (oh, Julian). He's probably been carrying a ring around in his pocket for months now, waiting for the right time to propose to you, but too nervous to do it. You fluster him like no one else does. Every time he thinks he's found the right moment, a little seed of worry stops him (what if you say no? what if you say absolutely no? what if you just look at him like he's crazy and say nothing? what if he drops the ring???). Literally nothing is stopping him, except his own anxiety about how he thinks you could potentially maybe possibly react.

The two of you are wandering the streets of Vesuvia one afternoon, hopping from market to market, looking for some ingredients. There's nothing really special about today, but when Julian looks at you, he feels his heart just swell with adoration. This was the day, he thinks. The time is right. But he wants to do it somewhere a little more private, a little less hectic. So Julian directs you to that garden the two of you once hid from the guards in. "What are we doing here?" you question, raising a perplexed eyebrow at him. He merely smirks, waggling his eyebrows in return, "You'll see." He tells you there's something interesting about one of the statues and directs you to take a look at it. You acquiesce, with a bit of hesitance, but Julian is Julian, so him acting sort of weird like this isn't that much of a surprise. It's obviously all a ploy so he can distract you while he pulls out the ring.

So, of course, now that it's the right moment and Julian feels a swell of confidence, he realizes, Good God, I've lost the ring. He could've sworn it was in his coat pocket. Like, it was there yesterday, wasn't it? He's frantically patting himself down, feeling every inch of his coat, his pants. He even looks in his boots. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Did it fall out last night at the Rowdy Raven? Was he pickpocketed? Was there a hole in his pocket? What on earth was he to do now that he didn't have the ring? He whirls around, looking frantically for something circular he might be able to use as a replacement until he finds it again. And then he wonders if he should just hold off?

"Hey, Julian, honey," your voice pipes up from behind him, startling the poor man out of his thoughts. He's even more alarmed (and embarrassed) when he turns around and sees you holding up the little black box that was storing your ring. "I think you dropped this," you say, trying everything in your power to not burst into giggles, "It was on the ground right in front of you." Of course it was. You hand the box over to Julian and with a small smile add, "I'll pretend I didn't see it." You give him a small peck on the cheek before turning back to the statue he'd directed you to. Loudly and overenthusiastically, you exclaim how interesting the statue is, allowing Julian to pull himself together. With a renewed wave of confidence, Julian kneels to the ground. "MC?" he begins, gaining your attention again. You whirl around, a knowing smile tugging at your lips as you’re greeted by Julian's blushing face. "I know I've rightly fumbled this proposal," he laughs, his eyes already glimmering with tears, "But you've turned this salty old dog into a bumbling, flustered, happy mess. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Would you be the captain to my first mate?" You burst out laughing, and Julian's heart stops in his chest. "Of course!" you cry, practically throwing yourself into his arms. His worry is quickly forgotten as he slips a timeless, antique ring on your finger and captures your lips in his 💜

Portia is quite good at keeping secrets, so while the two of you have discussed getting married, she absolutely does not let on about her plans of proposing to you. You are totally in the dark about them, much to her delight. She has the perfect thing planned for the two of you! She goes out shopping for everything she needs for a romantic dinner at her cottage. She even manages to subtly find out from you what kind of ring you'd want. The night before she plans to propose to you, she's so giddy, she can hardly sleep!

The next morning, she lets you sleep for however long you need to (but not too late, she's got a schedule to keep to!). Once you've gotten ready for the day, Portia takes you out to go on an adventure! Since you both have the day off, it's time to do some exploring. She won't tell you where you're going, though. "You'll just have to trust me!" she winks, taking your hand in hers and bounding off towards town. The two of you start in the markets, where you first met. Portia describes to you how positively adorable she thought you were on your first meeting. She'd spilled all those pomegranates everywhere, but you were so kind to help her pick them all up! She was taken with you immediately.

Portia takes you on an entire tour of Vesuvia, stopping at all the places that are significant to you, and even places you just pass every day that you hadn't even realized carried so much meaning. With each stop, she describes something important about your relationship with her. "It was here that we had our first kiss, and there that we first danced. Oh! And here's where that guy tried to pickpocket you-" But you cut in to finish the story, bubbling with laughter, "And you started threateningly waving that basket at him! The look on his face! He was so scared of you, Portia." The two of you double over with laughter. Once you calm down, you start walking back to Portia's cottage. "Why are you doing all of this today?" you question, smiling gently and feeling a bit confused. Portia shrugs, cryptically responding with, "Just feeling a bit nostalgic, I guess."

The sky is bright with the colors of the sunset when you finally return to the cottage. As you're about to enter, Portia whirls around and exclaims, "Oh! Can you grab one of those yellow squash from the garden? I need it for our dinner tonight!" You head back towards the garden, not even an inkling of suspicion in your mind. You spot the best looking, ripest squash in the bunch and start to tug and twist at its stem when you notice something glinting on one of the curly vines shooting off of it. It's a ring, you realize as you pick it up, and quite a lovely looking one, too! It's bright and colorful. You turn to call to Portia, wanting to share your discovery with her, but when you whirl around, she's already kneeling before you, a bright beam on her face. She giggles at your flabbergasted look and says, "MC, this is where I want us to make our home. Well, our home we can come back to in between adventuring. But I've also realized that no matter where we go, I think I've found my home in you. Would you do me the honor of being my adventure companion, for life?" Before you can even say anything, Portia knows your answer by the way your eyes light up, but she waits for you to say it anyway. When you're finally able to speak, Portia slips the ring on your finger before pulling you into a tight embrace, pressing her lips fervently against yours 💜

Muriel wants to marry you so badly, but he's so worried about what you would say if he proposed to you. Do you even want to marry him? Is that something you've even thought about? Is that something you could even comprehend with him? He works himself up into an anxious mess, but he doesn't show it. But you've helped him discover how to be kinder to himself, to be more confident. He loves you with all of his heart and wants to spend the rest of his life making you happy.

Muriel sets to work immediately. He doesn't have any grand plans for your proposal, but only because he knows you'd each want something quiet. His first order of business is the ring. He decides he's going to craft it himself. Secretly, he gathers all his materials and works during times that you're out of the house. If he doesn't know how to shape metal or set a stone into a ring, he learns. He'll spend the rest of his life, learning and growing with you, and he's delighted. After he finishes the ring (and he's sure that it's absolutely perfect), he starts to practice what it is he's going to say. He sits in front of Inanna and goes through a variety of speeches he's worked out in his head. But absolutely none of them seem right. He fumbles over the words, starts to feel emotional when he delves into the intricacies of his love for you (why can't he stop crying when he talks about how grateful he is to have met you? how is he even going to propose at this rate?!).

Finally, Muriel settles on writing it down. He drafts a short, but sweet little proposal and rolls it up. He keeps it hidden somewhere you won't go looking and waits for the right opportunity to bring it out. Now there's the question of when he's going to propose. He wants the timing to be just right. But what would "just right" be? He could cook you a nice dinner and propose when you return from the shop one day. He could hide the ring in the chicken feed and wait for you to discover it while you're helping him feed them (but then there was the risk of accidentally feeding a chicken the ring, and the thought spooks him). Brainstorming practically keeps him up all night. And absolutely nothing he comes up with seems right.

The next morning, Muriel rises before you do. He's hardly slept, but he simply can't stay in bed any longer. The anxiety he's getting from trying to come up with the perfect proposal is just too much. He sits down at your breakfast table and sips at a mug of that lemon tea you bought him a few weeks ago. It's warm and citrusy and comforting. As he mulls over even more possibilities, he gazes across the room at your slumbering form. You look so peaceful and calm. He feels a swell of adoration for you, and suddenly, an idea occurs to him. He quietly calls Inanna over to him and enacts his plan. As the sun starts to stream through the windows of the hut, you groggily stretch and open your eyes. The first thing you see is Inanna padding over to the bed, carrying something gently in her mouth. "Good morning, Inanna. What's that you've got there?" you begin sleepily, reaching for whatever it is she has. It's a little wooden box with a small scroll attached to it. Curious, you unroll the piece of paper first. In Muriel's messy handwriting is written, "MC, you've shown me how to love myself. I hope to be able to show you how much I love you, too. For the rest of my life, I promise to cherish you. Will you marry me?" Speechless, you open up the wooden box. Inside is an intricately carved ring with a raw emerald in the center. You look up to see Muriel striding towards the bed, a blush spreading across his cheeks. You toss aside the covers and throw your arms around him. "Yes, Muriel! Yes!" you cry, happy tears streaming down both your face and his. He pulls you into a warm embrace and presses his lips tenderly to yours 💜

Lucio is incapable of keeping a secret, so you pretty much know that he's going to propose to you pretty soon. You've heard him (loudly) discussing it with his friends and attendants, trying to plan out the perfect day. You don't really hear the details, but you definitely know it's coming. Lucio is beside himself with glee during the planning process. He has so many ideas, it's actually hard for him to settle on just one.

First order of business is the ring, but he's pretty much got that covered right away. He's had it custom made and it's as elaborate and glamorous as possible. There's no way he's letting your elegant hands be tarnished by anything less than the best. Second order of business: the flowers. Your favorites, of course, and then a plethora of white roses. He wants bouquets upon bouquets. You have to be surrounded by flowers, wherever it is that he ends up proposing to you. Then there's the venue. The palace gardens? A yacht party? A masquerade ball? There are so many brilliant possibilities, can't he just do all of them? Lucio, after some talking down from some of the other M6, settles on the finest restaurant in Vesuvia (but he has some extra surprises in the day for you). He scores you the best seats in the house and makes all kinds of special requests for the menu.

The day of the proposal, you're awoken with breakfast in bed, and your first set of bouquets. Lucio is ecstatic, practically bouncing off the walls. He promises you a day of luxury and non-stop fun! It's all a bit overwhelming, but you can tell Lucio put a lot of work into trying to plan something elaborate and romantic for the two of you. There's a carriage ride around Vesuvia (with more flowers), a couples massage/spa day before a light lunch (and even more flowers), a hot air balloon ride in the evening (and even more flowers, did Lucio just massacre an entire field of flowers?). All the while, Lucio makes sure to tell you all the things he finds adorable about you and all the things he loves. "MC, I think you and I are the greatest couple in Vesuvia. No, this side of the continent. No! The whole entire world," he proclaims as you look out over the sprawling streets of the city from where you hover above in your hot air balloon. You simply laugh at all of his grandiose claims, laughs that Lucio silences with sneaky kisses.

Upon landing, you set out for your dinner. He really did score not only the most expensive and exclusive restaurant in Vesuvia, but the best seats in the house. You're seated on the balcony, overlooking the water below. The breeze is lovely and the sky is twinkling with starlight. Lucio has made arrangements for your meal already. They come in tiny tasting portions, but there's plenty of food so there's no need to worry about not getting enough. Over dessert, Lucio holds your hand, entwining his fingers with yours and staring rather impishly into your eyes. He wears a mischievous smirk and you have a feeling you know what's coming. So when the champagne arrives and you spot something glinting at the bottom of your glass, you're not surprised. But you are absolutely delighted. Lucio fishes the ring out for you (he struggles a bit trying to get the prongs of a fork to hook around the metal, but he manages). He looks confident, but his hands are trembling as he kneels down in front of you. "MC, I really mean it when I say I think we're the greatest couple in the world," he begins, smiling brightly up at you, his pale eyes twinkling, "Together, I think we can take it by storm. They won't know what hit 'em! Want to make us The official power couple of Vesuvia? No, the whole world!" His proposal is utterly ridiculous, so you can't help but laugh. "Yes, Lucio. Just promise me you don't actually have any plans of world domination," you laugh as Lucio slips the huge, sparkling ring on your finger. He shrugs, winking at you before lifting you up and twirling you around in his delight. He embraces you tightly and passionately ensnares your lips in his 💜

Bonus points if Lucio takes a swig out of the wrong glass and nearly chokes on the ring (because that is something he would totally do).

#the arcana #asra alnazar #nadia satrinava #julian devorak #portia devorak #muriel of the kokhuri #lucio morgasson #count lucio #the arcana headcanons #dani headcanons #asra x mc #nadia x mc #julian x mc #portia x mc #muriel x mc #lucio x mc #fluff #gender neutral

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taizi · 7 months

Note

If you're taking prompts and like this one might I request Sabo's pov on 'if I go I'm going on fire?'

That fic absolutely floored me it was so incredibly good. I just had to lie there and process it. But I can't stop thinking about how afraid Sabo must be that Ace will be angry but it would never stop him from going to try to help Ace, who doesn't even know he's not the last of the three...regardless if you want to write this I just had to tell you how much I loved it!

quite the keeper of you

read on ao3

When Sabo was fished up out of the sea as a child, all he had to his name were the clothes on his back and an ancient monocular telescope tucked safely away in his inner coat pocket. And that was all he had. And when he woke up initially, he was half out of his mind, hysterical, begging not to go back to wherever he’d come from. So for all he knew, he wasn’t leaving anything worthwhile behind.

It’s a sick joke. He’s waiting for someone to pull the curtain back and laugh, to let him in on it.

“You’re my brother!” Straw Hat screams, claiming Portgas D. Ace for the whole world to hear, plunging headlong into a war like it didn’t make sense for him to be anywhere else. The broadcast is shaky, grainy, but Sabo can still see the way Fire Fist’s face crumples in terror and anger and something specific to older siblings—something Sabo’s heart recognizes in that split-second.

Did you know? If you share a cup of sake, that makes you—

Sabo stands frozen, his brain on fire, the rest of his body encased in ice. Images were crowding forward; a rainforest with rich, colorful foliage and giant beasts, a bandit hut that was always waiting for them when they decided to give into the elements and slink inside for the night, a junkyard they picked through for treasures, though it took forever nowadays, because one of them always had to look after the little crybaby and make sure he didn’t drag something stupid home.

A kingdom square, unkind faces looking down on them. A treehouse where they could see for miles. A tiny body crawling under his blanket during a storm, and the automatic way Sabo put his arm around them, mumbling without waking up all the way, “This is the last time, Lu.”

For a moment, in the footage, it looks like they’ll get away. They’re running to the wharf, backed on all sides by allies, and Sabo finds himself holding his breath. Straw Hat is beginning to flag, but Fire Fist has a firm hand wrapped around his arm, is pulling him resolutely towards the sea.

Then for some reason, he stops. He whirls to face Akainu, face distended in a snarl.

No, no, no, you idiot, Sabo thinks with a fury that nearly blinds him. What are you doing, keep running, freedom is right behind you!

You idiot, come on!

When there’s an enemy in front of me, I won’t run.

When it happens, Ace is seconds too slow to stop it, an arm’s length away, his face the picture of horror. All around Sabo, the air goes out of the room with an audible sound, everyone sucking in a short, pained breath.

“Oh, no,” Koala whispers, putting her hand on his wrist. “Sabo, I know you really liked him. I’m sorry.”

Her sympathy is genuine and meaningful—she liked that rookie pirate, too. It’s impossible not to like him. His devil-may-care, take-no-shit attitude, how daring and reckless and joyful he was as he threw himself into each new corner of the world. Sabo always found himself gravitating towards Straw Hat’s Wanted posters the same way he did Fire Fist’s. He always lingered to look at their faces an extra second. He never knew why.

And now Straw Hat is—

This means that from now on, the three of us will always be—

The broadcast starts to shake. The transponder snail is curling and shriveling away from what must be an intense heat. A Devil Fruit awakens on Marineford, broadcast to the world, as Fire Fist Ace lights up like a supernova and cremates everything in front of him. The man who killed his brother dies in seconds. His own allies are pushed far away, back and back and back. No one is able to reach him.

And he’s screaming. When the transmission ends abruptly, Sabo can still hear him screaming.

He’s weak, and a crybaby, but he’s still our little brother. Look after him for me.

When Sabo boards the Moby Dick, he’s alone. He sailed in a straight line from Baltigo to intercept the Whitebeards without waiting for approval or permission from anyone. He didn’t even requisition the cutter, he just took it.

Less than two weeks after the Summit War, it’s a grave-faced group that greets him on the ship. Sabo doesn’t see the gargantuan figure of their captain abovedeck, so he casts around reflexively with observation haki and deduces that he must be resting in his quarters.

“What business does a Revolutionary have here?” Marco the Phoenix asks, with as much veiled threat as Sabo expected, though decidedly less than he deserves.

“Fire Fist,” Sabo says. All around him, hackles go up. “I’m here to speak with him.”

“He’s not exactly seeing visitors at the moment,” Marco grits out.

“He’ll see me,” Sabo replies, as steady and solid as a rock face that the ocean crashes against. He speaks as if his hands aren’t shaking, as if there isn’t a pit in his stomach that it’s hard to breathe around, as if he feels anything else but cold.

It takes four minutes for Portgas D. Ace to appear. He walks like a puppet, something recently brought to life that is still figuring out its autonomy. His eyes are dark and endless and if there’s a spark left in them at all, Sabo can’t see it from where he’s standing. Ace turns his head and picks Sabo from the crowd as the outlier remarkably fast, hardly needing haki to do it.

It takes four seconds for confusion to surface through the apathy, hints of it touching Ace’s face; the narrowing of his eyes, the downward turn of his mouth. And then it’s six seconds after that for understanding to set in, a swift river rush of it, followed by a tiny little silverfish dart of wonder. And then grief and rage trample over everything else, hand-in-hand.

Ace is on top of him an instant later. It’s a full-body tackle, and they go rolling across the deck in the type of knockdown, drag-out brawl that Sabo only just remembers from another life. It was like learning how to swim by jumping in the deep end—the wild boy from the forest had taught Sabo how to fight as if his life was on the line. They skipped things like how to tuck in your elbows and untuck your thumbs. Ace’s lessons involved finding the soft underbelly of your opponent and digging into it with tooth and nail.

The accident at sea that stole his memories away took those lessons, too, but his body remembered them. And while formal training with the Army was much different than wrestling with his brother in the woods, Sabo always had a bit of a nasty streak his teachers despaired over.

“You don’t have to bite,” he remembers Hack saying with measured patience. “This is a class, not life-or-death.”

Of course it is, Sabo had found himself on the verge of snapping. If I don’t fight for my life, someone else will take it. If we don’t fight for each other, no one else will.

But he didn’t know where the thought had come from. And he was discomfited by the way his instructors were watching him, and the way Koala stared at him, at the smear of blood left on the corner of his mouth, like she suddenly saw something in his face that she recognized in herself. So he didn’t say anything at all.

Now he knows. Ace showed him how to protect himself in a brutal, bloody, final way, because Ace loved him enough to want him to exist at any cost. Live, those lessons taught him. Survive.

Voices cry out and feet stamp around like people are trying to get close enough to tear them apart—but Ace’s fire shoves his crewmates back, a wall of snapping, snarling teeth that towers above Sabo from all sides.

It licks against him without burning. Ace’s hands are another story. He’s hitting to hurt.

Sabo absorbs every blow, and even when his face is tender and swelling and his lip is bleeding, it still doesn’t feel like enough.

Ace clutches the front of his waistcoat and hauls him half upright, expression twisted into something bleak and hateful. It’s the way he looked at Sabo when they were children and still strangers to each other. The first time they were strangers to each other.

“If you were going to come back from the dead, it should have been for him,” Ace snarls. “What the fuck are you doing here? What’s the fucking point now?”

I should have been there is on the tip of Sabo’s tongue, but it seems a waste of breath to say something everyone already knows. I’m sorry surfaces next, is the obvious right thing, but what he actually says is, “I had to come.”

His voice is just barely more than a whisper. Ace’s face only screws up more.

Ten years ago, it would have gone without saying. Maybe they wouldn’t have needed to speak at all. The only person in the world who really understood Sabo, who could look him in the eye and practically read his mind, was his best friend. His twin brother.

But now he’s staring at Sabo like he’s never seen any creature like him before.

“I had to,” Sabo chokes out. “Ace, I had to.”

Even if you hate me, he doesn’t say. You’re my brother. I’ll always come for you.

Ace drops him. Sabo’s head hits the deck with a solid knock, his brain ringing inside his skull like a gong. He’s still waiting for his double vision to clear when Ace lays down next to him. Their shoulders are touching, and even when Sabo’s starts to shake with the force of his sobbing, Ace stays pressed against his side.

Their shoulders are touching, and the fire, when it finally closes in, still doesn’t burn.

“I’m stepping down,” Ace says suddenly. “From the Whitebeards.”

Sabo rolls his head to the side to look at him. Ace goes on staring up at the sky and doesn’t look back. They’re still sprawled on the deck. Ace’s crewmates have been giving the brothers a wide berth since they stopped seemingly trying to kill each other but a wary few of them are still lingering nearby. If they’re close enough to overhear, they don’t give any indication.

“The Straw Hats,” Ace says, “Luffy’s people. They’re monsters, like us. They love the way monsters love. They’re gonna drag as much of the World Government down to hell with them as they can. I’m going, too.”

He lifts his hand, holding it out above him. It ignites, merry orange flames crackling from his skin, sending shadows flickering across his blank face. Then all the color bleeds away until it’s a ghostly thing, shock white with hints of blue, and the packed heat becomes searing and uncomfortable. It superheats the air like a flash fire; Sabo can feel it in his lungs, but he doesn’t move away.

Luffy burned. His last breath was agony, choked with smoke. There isn’t a force on this planet that could hurt Sabo as much as knowing that. If the fire in Ace’s hand leaped over and caught him and he went up like rice paper, it wouldn’t even come close.

“Don’t want my name attached to Pops anymore,” Ace goes on. “Don’t want him claiming the consequences for my choices this time.”

Sabo asks, “What did he say?”

“Called me a stupid kid,” Ace recounts like it’s something that happened to someone else. “Said I could go as far away as I wanted for as long as I wanted and my family would be still waiting for me when I decided to come back home.”

There’s a quirk at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile. It’s some distant cousin of wry humor but not the real thing. Sabo gets the joke—“come back home.” As if that’s a place that exists anymore.

“I told my boss the same thing,” he offers, “more or less.”

His conversation with Dragon was less a conversation and more the total destruction of the communications room. Sabo doesn’t remember all of it. He does remember the rawness of his throat, the leftover ache of screaming, “Why weren’t you there? Why weren’t we there?” and the splinters in his hands from the broken furniture he’d hurled at the walls.

“I’m on sabbatical,” Sabo says mildly.

Ace finally turns to look at him. He’s different from Sabo’s recovered memories of him. He’s different from his Wanted posters, even. Gone is that proud, angry little boy, and that devilishly grinning pirate. He was a big brother before he was anything else, and now he isn’t that anymore. It’s carved a hole into him, scooping out the golden, shining parts that it took years to cultivate. All that’s left is the burnt remains of something once wild and beautiful.

He could be all those things again, Sabo thinks. If he tried. If he leaned on the support and love of his crew. If he let himself hurt and then let himself heal. If Sabo were a better person, he would make Ace try.

But he isn’t. Sabo is burnt remains, too.

“Pops told Luffy’s monsters it was suicide,” Ace says. “He says there’s no way we can accomplish what we want to do. He doesn’t get it.”

“No,” Sabo agrees, not unkindly. “But he will.”

Life is a series of lessons.

Sabo taught his brothers how to steal, how to be cunning—how to slip through High Town in their ratty shoes and dirty clothes like they were invisible, the way he learned to maneuver the mansion his parents lived in. Ace taught them how to fight bigger, stronger people—how to go for the soft, unguarded places, how to dig in with your teeth until you won.

Luffy taught them, too. Every single day. How to be silly. How to laugh at themselves. How to face the day like it was an adventure instead of a challenge. How to pry open the guarded cages of their hearts so that it became possible for other people to sneak in there down the road. How to dream huge, impossible dreams, and go on dreaming them even when no one believed in you but you.

This, their stubborn little brother showed them, day after day after day, grin stretching beneath a straw hat that Sabo would never get to watch him grow into, hands always open and reaching for them, is what you fight for.

And the Marines thought they had any right to touch him. To take him. To drive a fist through the heart of the one purely good thing in this world. The audacity leaves Sabo breathless.

“There are battles we have to lose,” Dragon had said, sitting in the middle of a ruined room like he’d been chiseled from stone, the beginnings of a terrible, pitch-black storm in his eyes, “in order to win the war.”

But there was no such thing as winning now. Not for Sabo, or Ace, or the Straw Hats. There was only taking as many of those people down as they possibly could, and making it bloody, and making it brutal, and leaving behind something that it would be impossible to ever forget. Something historians would discuss only in whispers for the next hundred years.

They’ll remember him, Sabo thinks, eyes roaming away from Ace, back towards the sky. Maybe there are stars up there tonight, maybe the moon is full and beautiful. All he sees is the blackness in between, the empty space. We’ll make them remember. We’ll teach them what it means to do what they’ve done.

And then they would finally see their little brother again, and they would tell him all about it.

#one piece #opfic #asl bros #revolutionary sabo #portgas d ace #my writing #prompt #anonymous #op #quite the keeper of you #ouch :')#no one is doing well #one more part after this one !

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booppooo · 2 years

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hi heard u were taking requests and i really love ur writing! can i req an ellie x f!reader where they sort of have a fight because of her close relationship with dina (reader sort of gets defensive when ellie asks why they don’t hang out but like it escalates) and then at the ball, she sees u dance with jesse, cue in MASSIVE jealously on ellie’s behalf and then it just clicks that she likes you… would prefer a happy ending 🫣🫣 for the sake of everyone on the ellie tag pls

How Does It Feel?

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

AN: ugh love this <3

Warnings: arguing, swearing, jealousy, kissin'

(Comment Credits!)

This wasn't how patrol was supposed to go.

Usually patrol with Ellie was fun: taking out infected, making stupid jokes, sometimes gossiping or even flirting. But today you were feeling sick to your stomach around her.

You couldn't help but noticed how touchy her and Dina had been lately and how much time they were spending together. Sure - they were best friends, you all were, but you saw the way Ellie looked at her and the way Dina would smirk back. It made you furious. So the past week and a half every time Ellie asked to hang out you would brush it off or say you had picked up another patrol assignment and would be busy.

Now she had confronted you about it, and now you were fighting about it.

"It's nothing Ellie stop worrying about it." You grumbled while working on your gun at a workbench.

She huffed, "Y/n please just tell me what's wrong, I want to help."

"Yeah well..." you blew off some dust on your weapon, "you kinda can't."

"Kinda?"

You slammed your hands on the table, "Just stop! I told you to give it up already."

Her speckled nose started to scrunch indignantly, "You don't have to be a dick."

You gripped the cleaning cloth in your hand with enough force to crush a baby's skull and looked at Ellie in disbelief. But alas, you shook your head and decided not to entertain it anymore.

"Is it something I did?"

"Oh my god Ellie-!"

"Stop fucking avoiding my questions and just tell me yes or no!"

You could just smack her, "I don't have to tell you anything actually, so why don't you and Dina go eat shit and fuck off." Your attention turned back to your gun.

Ellie's jaw all but dropped on the floor.

She pointed to herself in frustration, "Oh so this is my fault? Ya know I wouldn't be hanging out with Dina all the time if you wouldn't keep leaving me in the dust or telling me you're 'busy.' Ever think about that Y/n?"

Heat tingled your skin as your fury grew to more intense levels, "Ever think about why I don't want to fucking hang out with you anymore?" You flashed her a side eye.

"I would like to know so I can fix it!" She was standing on top of you.

After sliding your pistol into your holster you stared her down. Dark green eyes boring back into your own angry irises and her mouth ajar in disbelief.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes!" She exasperated.

"Stop eye fucking Dina every time you see her."

With that you felt the color drain from your face and your instinct was to whirl around and rush back to your horse.

Ellie was left standing and watched you storm off, biting her lip and picking at her nails. Unsure if she should feel insulted that you were threatened by her and Dina's dynamic or upset she had made you jealous, either way she felt a deep guilt lining her stomach.

Your hands felt small against Jessie's expansive pecks. He smelled like eucalyptus and the cool winter air as he pressed closer to you and held your hips tighter. Though you were tipsy, you still felt a genuine sense of excitement with him while you danced.

A more fast paced song began to play and he plucked one of your hands from his chest and spun you around leaving you to giggle against him when he snatched you back against his torso.

"You better stop before you make me fall in front of everyone!" You laughed.

"Make me." He smirked as he spun you out and back in, crossing your arms across your chest and swaying with you.

Little did you know, a certain red-headed girl was standing at the bar, grinding her jaw and holding her glass tightly - on the verge of making it shatter in her palm. After you brushed a light kiss against Jessie's neck Ellie tossed back the rest of her drink and went to stomp out of the winter ball, but a particularly sweaty Dina gathered up her wrist and pulled her onto the dance floor.

"Ellie! C'mon and dance with me!" She smiled, definitely drunk. Her face was a relief to see, but also made Ellie's heart leap into her throat.

Dina's back faced Jessie's leaving Ellie to catch glimpses of you over Jessie's much larger figure. You laughed and ogled at him, danced with a smile on your face and bit your lip flirtatiously. Her frustrated, forest glare couldn't peel away from you. That was until you shared a long, intimate kiss with Jessie and Ellie abruptly excused herself and left for her garage.

Pulling away from your kiss just in time you saw a sliver of Ellie's frame rushing through the door, then spotted an utterly confused Dina. Even in your slightly intoxicated state it didn't take a lot to put two and two together and feel your drinks hit the back of your throat.

"S-sorry I'm not feeling good...I need to go." You frowned at Jessie before making a quick exit.

As fast as you could you ran down the steps and followed the imprints of Ellie's fresh tracks in the snow until you saw her lit up by the moonlight on the road.

"Ellie!"

The cold made your airways sting.

Thankfully she turned to glance over her shoulder, but only to furrow her brows and clench her fists at you - yet she waited for you to catch up.

Her stare was deadly. She loomed over you and was nearly vibrating with pent up rage. Jealousy had an iron grip on her rationality.

"Listen.." you sighed, out of breath and still sick to your stomach.

But it was your turn to listen.

"No. Fuck you for chewing me out the other day on patrol just to - to fuckin' -" she pointed to the building where the ball was being held while her words jumbled in her mouth, "you're so frustrating!"

You tried to rack your brain for a rebuttal but every explanation you came up with seemed too pathetic to leave your brain.

"And just for the record, I don't like Dina. So stop trying to get into Jessie's pants because there's no fucking point." A few tears had streaked down her face and she was struggling to catch her breath. "I-I never liked Dina, she's just my friend. You're-"

You saw the words clot in her throat. She had finished the sentence in her brain but her body had slammed on the brakes, leaving her motionless and staring at you in humiliation. The feeling was familiar to you, everyone had experienced it at one time or another, but that didn't stop you from prying.

"I'm what Ellie?"

Her fists grew tighter and her jaw wired shut. It was like she was trying to scream at you telepathically while also cringing at herself internally. All of it made you grow impatient, and knowing Ellie she'd be too stubborn to give you a straight answer (and if she did it would take days), so you took it upon yourself to find what she would refuse to say.

For months you had wanted to do this. Calculating the perfect time, which place and how to create the right atmosphere to optimize the experience, but all of that was thrown out of the window. Right now was the time to do it - perfect or not, in the middle of the street with tension building between you two.

You swooped in, cupping her chilled cheeks and tilting your head, finally planting your lips firmly on her's. The only reason why you didn't pull away sooner was because her lips were so soft and delightfully warm that it made your whole body feel like it had been dipped in warm chocolate, what brought you out of it was a snowflake tickling your nose.

For a beat you stood with your palms resting against her face while you tried to read her, then you stepped back, "I'm what Ellie?"

"You're the one I like."

The words tumbled from her lips. Her eyes were still glossed over and you could tell she was still in a daze.

"Then..." you furrowed your brows, "then why were you flirting with Dina so much? Why didn't you just tell me? You knew I felt the same."

Her fists unclenched and she picked at her fingers bashfully, "Fuck Y/n...I-I don't know, it was stupid. I wasn't sure you felt the same and I didn't want find out yet because I like spending time with you."

"Ellie..." you sighed.

"I'm sorry. I like you Y/n. I really do."

For the first time in a few days her eyes met yours with something other than anger or irritation. To you it looked like compassion and yearning, which you reciprocated without issue. You took one of her nervous hands into yours and held it tightly, taking another step toward her. As if it were natural to her she scooped up your other cold palm, warming it as best she could.

"I like you too Ellie," you smiled, "Kiss me and I'll forgive you."

The words barely left your mouth and her lips were already on yours. This kiss was more than the one you shared before: deeper, more passionate, loving. Her tongue wet your bottom lip and slipped past to taste yours - it all scratched an itch you had been dying to dig at for a long time.

Slowly pulling away with a few last kisses in between, Ellie hummed, "Y/n...you're the one for me."

#ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you

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