#am I happy with this? yes!!! shockingly!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb · 6 months

Note

Zoro x Fem Reader FLUFF JEALOUSLY HUMOR!!! Zoro is always busy that he rarely ever goes on dates or hangs out with S/O. Sure, S/O always treats him like massages or cleans his training room etc, but it doesn’t help that Zoro doesn’t want to be teased. One day, to cope with loneliness, S/O makes a plushie of Zoro to keep her company! She’s more happier and playful afterwards so she barely misses Zoro! Zoro gets some free time one day and gets rejected bc S/O is playing with Chopper and plushie!

Sup Bitches I’m back from the dead. Not really lmao but I am still alive and I finished off this draft today so here.

🍶TW’s : loneliness, Zoro being dumb, swearing, sappy OOC Zoro (fight me).

Your hand jerked away from the needle as you pricked your finger again making this stupid plushie. You loved it, yes, and you knew it would be well-used, but that didn't change the fact that it was a pain in the ass (fingers) to make. You swore under your breath as you sucked the small injury, glaring at the offending needle.

"Whatcha makin?" Usopp sidled beside you, his nose poking into your personal space. You grunted before sighing heavily.

"A plushie."

"A green one?"

"Mmmhmm. Zoro's been...." you trailed off as you tried to come up with a better way of saying that you felt as if he was too busy for you.

"He's been training a lot" Usopp finished for you. You nodded sullenly, shaking out the cramping of your fingers. Usopp hummed in understanding.

"Well for what it's worth, I think it's turning out really well. Maybe you could make plushies of the rest of the crew!" he said with a grin. The compliment made your heart sting with happiness. You hadn't heard one in a while with Zoro so busy, and you returned his grin with a bright one of your own. Determination dulled the ache in your hands as you looked down to your project.

"Why don't you sit outside with us? You can bring that along and enjoy the sun." he offered. You nodded after a second. Spending time around your friends would help the loneliness that had seeped into your bones.

You joined the rest of the crew outdoors, giggling at the way your captain, Usopp, and Chopper all made each other screech through their various antics, joined occasionally by Brook and Franky. Brook tried to ask to see your panties, and even as your foot landed on his skull, a smile curved your lips. You'd forgotten what it was like to spend time with your friends like this, having been so caught up with Zoro being busy.

You made some serious progress on your plushie in between shared jokes and laugher, and by the time you were ready to go to sleep, you were finishing the last stitch by candle light. Zoro was on night watch as usual, leaving you in your shared bedroom by yourself. Again. You sighed, stroking the plushie's face gently like you would your boyfriend's. It felt... comforting- like you could pretend it was his sun kissed skin. Warmth flooded your face as you realized how ridiculous you must have looked. You shook your head, discarding the idea. He had pushed you to this point. Right?

You sighed heavily, the loneliness coming crashing down again as you settled into the cold blankets. You tried to push the thoughts of being alone out of your head as you cuddled the replacement Zoro to your chest.

"Dumbass" you muttered to the plush as you drifted off.

~~~~

You woke up shockingly refreshed. You hadn't slept that well in a while, not since you were starved of your boyfriend's attention. Dragging the plushie with you, you rose and got dressed before stepping out of the room, almost running directly into a solid wall of muscle. Calloused hands grabbed your shoulders as you stumbled to avoid the sudden obstacle.

"Oi. Careful."

Your heart flipped at the sound of his voice and you whipped your gaze up.

"Zoro!" Your eyes brightened, and a grin puffed your cheeks. You slammed yourself into him, hugging him tightly.

His arms wrapped around you lightly before patting your shoulder as a way of asking you to pull back.

"Whatcha got in your hand?"

Your face heated as you shoved the plushie behind your back, having forgot you still had it with you.

"Umm nothing?"

He raised a single brow.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing important?" you tried as he backed you into the room step by step. He kicked the door shut without breaking eye contact.

"If it's nothing important why are you hiding it then?" He smirked at you, and you wanted to smack the knowing curve of his mouth off his face.

"...It's embarrassing" you finally mumble, looking to the side. Faster than you could realize, Zoro's arm sped around your waist and yanked the plush from your hands. You gasped, and reached in vain for his hand. He placed one hand on the top of your head as you struggled, keeping you from jumping up to grab it from him.

"Is this... me?"

You groaned in defeat. There was no hiding it anymore.

"Yeah"

He chucked heartily, ruffling the top of your head.

"Cute. It can never compare to the real thing though" he teased. You scowled playfully and crossed your arms.

"It's only to keep me company when you're so busy!"

Zoro laughed, flopping down on the bed and tossing you the plush.

"Whatever you say. Now go get some breakfast before curlybrows kicks down this door. I need sleep."

You caught the mini-Zoro with a slightly ache in your chest. Not even a 'love you' or a kiss? You plastered on a happy energy as you walked out the door. As soon as the door closed, you looked at the plush in your arms in defeat, giving it a small forehead kiss to make up for the one the real Zoro had neglected. It helped a little, and you could focus on the short but sweet interaction you had with your boyfriend, even if it wasn't everything you wanted, or needed.

You walked into the dining area with the plush still cradled in your arms. The crew seemed excited to see your skill, asking you to make plushies of all of you. You agreed, with the promise that Nami would let you use more money than your usual allowance to buy the necessary materials.

The day passed as usual with the Strawhats. A mid-morning skirmish with a weak band of pirates gave you a little bit of exercise, with the Monster Trio wanting to blow off steam the most. Nami didn't even bother getting up from her lounge chair, flicking through her fashion magazine. Zoro didn't even talk to you during or after the skirmish, only tossing you a small victory smile as he went straight back to training. You sighed, clutching the plush tightly as you curled up under the tree on the deck with a book. You couldn't focus on the words. You were so used to reading aloud to Zoro while he "napped" beside you that it felt strange to not read aloud. Glancing at the rest of the crew, you got up with a faked yawn and wandered back to your room.

You flopped on the bed, disheartened and bored out of your skull. Your gaze fell on the plush, and you hugged it to your chest before kissing the top of its head.

"At least you're always here"

Your eyes fell on the abandoned book on your blanket. You sighed in embarrassment, but knew it would make you feel better to do it. You picked it up, and began to read aloud to mini Zoro. It felt natural, like he was actually there with you. A smile curved your lips slightly at the familiarity. Maybe... just maybe... it would be okay to let yourself believe that he was spending time with you.

Later that day, Zoro came back to the room exhausted, groaning as he hit the bed. You stroked his freshly showered hair and massaged his shoulders and arms as he fell into a slumber without a word. You swallowed down your disappointment and fell asleep beside him, waking to an empty bed.

The next day felt less lonely, and you didn't notice Zoro's absence as much with the plush by your side. When asked about it, you said you wanted to see how the design would wear before beginning the other crewmate's plush's, and it's not like you minded that it was of your boyfriend. Chopper took particular interest in the plushie, finding it adorable. The two of you played games together, Chopper even considering the plushie the third player you had to play for.

Unbeknownst to you, ever since meeting you for that brief moment in the morning after his nightwatch, Zoro had felt something missing from his life. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but he did know that when he saw you on the deck cuddling that damn plushie like you loved it, a spike of... something... struck him. It should be him that you were showing affection. Well, it was him technically, but it wasn't at the same time. You were acting like that damn stuffed thing was actually him, instead of a thing. He sucked his teeth before beginning his next set of reps. What the hell was he feeling? You still gave him massages at night and... and... hm... When was the last time we actually spent any time together? ...Shit.

"Okay. Now it's your turn!" Chopper proclaimed as he finished his turn. You took the dice and rolled, moving your character a few spaces and drew a card. Familiar heavy footsteps vibrated the wood underneath you as your boyfriend approached you. You purposely ignored him.

"Okay, now mini-Zoro's turn!" you said cheerfully. Chopper made the plush grab the dice in his small hands and roll them one by one, and handed him a card face up so you could both see what hand he had.

"Oi" he called quietly. Chopper looked up, but you didn't move.

"Oh! real Zoro! Are you done training?"

"For today, yeah."

You interrupted their small chat.

"Chopper your turn" you reminded the small reindeer. Chopper made his turn, pulling ahead of your little character on the board with a small cheer.

You laid down two cards, and rolled the dice.

"Wow, smart move!" Chopper said, moving the mini-Zoro to make him "talk". You giggled.

"Why thank you, Zoro" you said, stressing his name. You felt your boyfriend stiffen behind you. You both knew now you were being petty, and you both knew he really did kind of deserve it. With a sigh, he stood. If that's how you were going to play it, he had to figure out how to make it up to you.

He walked away, thinking. How could he make it up to you? You'd been keeping your shared room tidy despite him just tossing his clothes and things on the floor in exhaustion. You'd massage his muscles on particularly hard days, and even snuck bottles of water near his sake when he was training. In return, he'd basically ignored you without explanation, exchange a few words here and there but there wasn't even any physical affection besides that brief hug when you'd literally stumbled into him.

You needed something special for dealing with him these last few weeks. He'd need some help from that damn cook, but for you, he'd do anything. He stalked towards the kitchen, slamming open the door. The blonde hardly flinched, glancing back with a glower.

"What."

"I need food."

"You can fuckin wait for dinner."

Zoro swallowed back an insult he crossed his arms and leaned his elbows on the counter, staying well out of the kitchen.

"'s not for me" he mumbled.

"No? Did Luffy send you again? I told that damn glutton to wait just 5 minutes for a snack"

"Wha- No! It's for her."

Sanji turned around with an evil smirk.

"Oh, finally realize you were neglecting your girlfriend, and now you're trying to suck up to her with my food?"

"Damn ero-cook. Fine! I'll figure something else out!" Zoro snapped at the blonde. Sanji sucked his teeth.

"Calm your man tits, Marimo. I'll do it for her, not your dumb fuckin ass." He turned around and started to take out ingredients for your favorite dessert.

Zoro breathed deeply, nodding at the cook's back once before stalking out of the kitchen.

~~~~

You felt a little bad about being so petty to Zoro earlier. Did he deserve it? Yes. Well... Maybe? He was really busy, and a partnership wasn't always 50-50, not when one person can't give as much as they want to a relationship when they're so busy with something. You just wished he could tell you he was going to be busy so he couldn't give you the attention he usually did.

You sighed, looking down at the plushie in your arms. You wished you were the one being held, or that you were holding a warm, living, breathing being you loved in your arms. Walking back to your shared room from dinner you gnawed on your lip, concerned. Zoro wasn't at dinner. Did you go too far? No. He would've called you out right there and then if you had. So why-

Oh.

Your body froze in the doorway, hand still resting on the handle. Soft light echoed through the room, pillows and blankets scattered into soft piles with a tray full of your favorite dessert nestled between them. One soft mound was occupied by your favorite swordsman, shirtless and in grey sweats lounging easily with a furrow on his face. He looked up quickly as the door opened, slowly getting to his feet.

"Hey."

"Zoro?"

"Umm. Yeah. I uh... I'm sorry for neglecting you, and we should... spend time? um. Together. Spend time together. For you. I mean to make it up to you."

"...oh. I'd uh... really like that" your smile started small and embarrassed, and grew into a bright grin as he held out his arms for a hug.

You looked at them for a second before leaping at him and slamming your body against his, wrapping your arms around him. His grunt turned into a breathless chuckle as he caught you. You breathed in his scent, took in the warm skin under your hands, the beating of his heart. He nosed your temple before landing a kiss on it.

“Don’t let me get away with that shit again, got it? Come beat my ass if I ever start to take you for granted again. You’re… everything to me.”

You pulled back and met his gaze, eyes shining with emotional wonder.

“I’ll beat your ass so hard” you promised cheekily. He snorted.

“Promise?”

His calloused palm scratched pleasantly against your skin as the fingers of one hand curled around the side and back of your neck, thumb brushing your cheekbone. You leaned into the touch greedily, drinking up the attention like sand soaks up water. His face was closer.

“I promise” you whisper, eyes flicking between his gaze and his lips. A small smirk curls one end of his mouth, making your breath hitch. He noticed.

“Good.”

Zoro was a man who never apologized with words, believing that actions are much more important than honeyed words. His kiss conveys it. His chapped lips mold to yours tenderly, lovingly. He was warm, his breath hot. His hand on your face held you to him, while his other wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his body.

You thought of all the loneliness he had caused you, how little he communicated, and how frustrating he was. How he seemed to care more for training than your relationship, and therefore about you. Yet you couldn’t have it any other way. He drove you mad because he slashed a way into your life and heart that could never be filled by anything or anyone else. You loved him.

Fuck, I love him.

#one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece fluff #one piece #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #roronoa zoro #one piece x y/n #one piece smut

464 notes · View notes

mj1343 · 2 months

Text

The Fallout Show, The NCR, Vegas, and Taking a Chill Pill

Fallout Show spoilers hi

i knew when i saw they were going to touch Shady Sands people would get angry regardless of what they did and i totally 100% understand being upset with the treatment of that location and the choices of writing that it took to get there but i genuinely do not understand the sentiment that Vegas is noncanon all of a sudden

Shady Sands is where the NCR formed and the first capital but they do not exclusively exist there. We know by New Vegas the NCR holds a lot of territory, and has territories they want to claim in the future:

'Hayes: "Sure can. The NCR was founded from the survivors of one of the great Vaults. We started as a small settlement called Shady Sands. We now consist of 5 states, that make up the greatest nation since the Great War."'

'NCR history holodisk: "Founded eighty years ago, the NCR is now comprised of the states of Shady, Los Angeles, Maxson, Hub, and Dayglow. Approximately 700,000 citizens are pleased to call NCR home."

In fact, we SEE a small sect of NCR remnants IN THE SHOW. I know a small group of people does not equate an entire nation but just the fact people are still fighting under the flag means they are not magically game ended forever and it is VERY overzealous to assume the ENTIRE NCR was housed in Shady Sands as late as 2277 when we know they were incorporating new territories before AND AFTER 2277

On the 'Vegas is a desolate nuked wasteland' front, i also genuinely do not understand it because, shockingly, locations IRL are larger than they are in the game!!!! The Strip in New Vegas is what, two cells? and one road with 4 casinos on it? The irl Strip is a 4 mile stretch of road that can have anywhere from 30 to 50+ casinos depending who you ask and over 100 casinos in all of Vegas easily. I understand they flash the Lucky 38 and the New Vegas sign to get excitement built but we have to look at scale a lot differently in the show than in the games. There are many scenes (which i have criticized) that are completely empty deserts for miles to see. Hell, the scale of the Vaults is different because they need to actually function as a building and not a location in a video game.

Yes. We see a few dead securitrons in the ending. You know where else you can find dead securitron? Littered about in the hit 2010 role playing game Fallout New Vegas. This is not a sign of desolation. This is a sign of some wasteland asshole killed a few. There are no people on the strip because this is supposed to drum up intrigue and tease a second season. We Do Not Know what has happened in Vegas. There could be hundreds of people on the strip and we just dont see them because they wanted a moody shot with no one in it. We have no idea. But you want to know what i can reasonably assume? it WASNT NUKED. because SHADY SANDS WAS NUKED AND ITS A CRATER AND YOU CAN STILL SEE EVERYTHING IN VEGAS STANDING. This is a post apocalypse franchise that, for better or worse (mostly worse) prides itself on Not Fixing Things from 200 years ago. A broken building or sign in New Vegas at the end of the show Does Not Mean New Vegas is completely removed from canon.

I know. I know you guys cannot be happy with anything Bethesda touches. I know you refuse to just take a breather for a moment. And i understand and entirely agree nuking a notable location from the original games is dirty. i am not giving Bethesda credit. There was some good in the show and some bad. I Understand. But this show has not decanonized New Vegas in any way and i truely do not understand the outrage from this point of view specifically. You can be angry about anything else. i know i cannot stop you if i wanted to. You will always find something to be mad about. But PLEASE think critically about this for a moment

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout 2 #fallout show #fallout amazon prime #shady sands #the NCR #fallout show spoilers

179 notes · View notes

jsprnt · 3 months

Text

Americano PT. 3 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: almost posted this with a missing part 💀 anyways, enjoy! (Ramadan Mubarak to my practicing babes!)

W/C: 3.782

part two

"What are you doing here?"

"Why are you here?"

We both exclaim at the same time, his hand cradling his shocked face as I look at him with my own wide eyes.

I glance at my dad; he doesn't look all too happy. I avert my gaze to Jude's mom, gulping down whatever saliva I have left in my now-dry mouth.

I actually had quite a few nice interactions with her during matches. We'd always talk when we bumped into each other. I not-so-shockingly got along more with his mom than Jude himself.

But this...

This isn't a nice interaction whatsoever.

I don't know if I should laugh or cry.

"I am so sorry. As you might know, y/n is insanely clumsy." My dad begins, his hand on Jude's back. He manages to guide him further into his firm.

I'm left standing alone with Jude's mom as we stare at each other for a second. My body stiffening in fear of what she might say.

"I am so sorry-" I start rambling, feeling my palms become sweaty.

I was more sorry to her than her son, to be completely honest.

I watch her eyes warm up immediately, her hand reaching over to place her hand on my shoulder.

"I think he'll be alright. Are you? Looked painful there." She says, her eyes full of concern as she squeezes my shoulder.

"I'm fine, perfect." I blurt, neglecting the pain in my own ankle and look behind her.

I was so dead.

I try to not look too nosy when I sit at the secretary's desk outside of my dad's office. Peering inside sneakily through the huge glass panels. Watching Jude and his mom sit across from him, a couple documents placed on the table they're sitting at.

I do make eye contact with an injured-looking Jude. He looks pissed, nodding his head repeatedly to whatever my dad was saying while holding up a pink ice pack to his head.

A sight that could be seen as comical, if I ignored the fact that I was the one who had caused it.

Thankfully, both of our parents don't notice the death stare we're giving each other, totally immersed into- what I assume, important conversation.

Come to think of it, why were they even here today?

It could only be the stalker incident.

I'm brought out of my thoughts quickly by a hand knocking on my desk.

"Stop staring already."

Luckily, ‘my-ego-is-bigger-than-my-head' Jude had returned just in time before I started to genuinely feel bad.

I lean back in my chair, eyes skimming his face for any bruises or blood. Not noticing anything unusual yet.

"It hurt, didn't it?" I ask, wanting to laugh. The situation unfolded so ridiculously fast, it felt like a camera prank waiting to be revealed.

"You could've messed with my face!" He replies in a hushed voice, his Brummie accent thick as he leans over the desk.

"Should I hit the other side? Just to make it even.” I smile, standing up and going to stand in front of him. Ignoring the shooting pain in my ankle.

He looks at me in disbelief, cocking a brow at me.

"What are you even doing here? Got sued for being insufferable?"

"Very creative with your insults.." I mock, pointing towards my dad's office. Seeing his mom and my dad still talking to each other.

"That's my dad."

"That's your dad?" He repeats, brows furrowing. He points at me, a little too disrespectfully, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Yes, that is my dad." I roll my eyes in annoyance.

"That's why you look so close with Ancelotti?" He gasps. "That's how you got the job!" He assumes, an accusatory finger pointed at me as he steps closer to me.

"No, and that's actually none of your business." I state, leaning back so his hand doesn't touch me.

I got the job after I submitted an anonymous application a little after I had returned from London. It was only just to try out my luck, but I was surprised when I got an email back for an actual interview.

I understood the assumption totally, and I wouldn't say I knew exactly a hundred percent that they didn't know who I was.

Most I could go off of was that I never told my dad I applied for the job. Later also finding out that the Real Madrid executives don't really look at job applications. They had other people do that. So the nepotism possibility was very small.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, tilting my head.

His expression immediately drops, his gaze averting.

"None of your business." He repeats my answer, mocking my tone.

"Okay, I guess not." I sigh, throwing my hands up in defeat, hearing footsteps come our way.

"Have you guys made up? You and Jude must be closer than I thought." His mom says, smiling at me.

I force a smile, nodding at her. My expression changing immediately.

"Yes, we made up. Right Jude?" I look at him, putting on my sweetest face.

"Sure." He mutters, turning to my dad.

"I didn't know she was your daughter. How do you deal with her?"

I was about to rip the door off its hinges and slam the door into his face again.

"She's a handful, isn't she? Troublemaker since she was little." My dad says, and I look at him shocked, as if he'd just betrayed our entire lineage.

No, I was not!

I step in between them before my dad ruins my image even more. Looking at Jude's mom in particular.

"Should we have some coffee?"

"So, what brings you two here? Not something horrible, I hope.” I pry, setting down the plastic tray of cups on the table.

I glance at my dad for a moment, placing a cup of coffee in front of everyone before sitting next to him, across from Jude and his mom.

"We had an incident in our home. Police are still investigating, but we were advised by the club to contact your dad for any legal action." His mom explains.

I was right.

"Oh, that must’ve been terrifying. Are you both alright?"

"We weren't home, but it definitely shook us a bit."

I nod in acknowledgment, taking a sip of my coffee as I take her words in.

"I know my dad and his team of lawyers will be very helpful. Both criminal and corporate law, the best in the city." I brag, winking, putting a hand on my dad's shoulder.

"y/n.." my dad warns, bellow a whisper, giving me a side eye.

I hear his mom chuckling and avert my gaze to her with a raised brow.

"You know- you've got to take compliments, especially from your daughter." She smiles, bringing the cup up to her lips.

My eyes move over to Jude. He's slumping in his chair, looking insanely uninterested in the conversation. I think I even caught him grimacing when I spoke.

The conversation his mom and my dad have practically fades in the background for a second. My mind wandering to random thoughts as I look to the side.

I only redirect my attention when I hear my name, followed by Jude's.

"-to work together?" My dad says, and I look back at Jude. Motioning for him to answer whatever my dad had asked. He doesn't say a single word, prompting me to discreetly kick him underneath the table.

'What?' He mouths at me, then he looks at my dad.

"It's very fun to work with y/n. She's such an interesting character." He answers, bright smile on his lips.

How backhanded could a compliment be?

"Yeah, so fun. Jude's has his moments, but we get along so well." I bite back, my tone sweet as ever. Holding back a wince as I feel him step on my shoe underneath the table.

"Oh, that's great.." His mom trails off, her eyes flickering in between us.

"Jude and y/n will be seeing each other a lot. As she's traveling closely with the team this season." My dad says proudly, this time putting his hand on my shoulder.

"That's even better. You can improve your Spanish faster with her help, Jude." His mom adds, causing a forced smile to form on his face.

"Yeah, that's very nice." He comments, sitting up and straightening his posture.

Our very nice conversation finally ends. My father and I standing up to follow them out of the firm.

"Lovely having you, Mrs. Bellingham." I say, extending my hand.

"You too, y/n." She says smiling, giving me a firm hand.

I smile, letting go of her hand, watching our parents shake each other's hands. I then look away, standing awkwardly in front of Jude.

"See you tomorrow, Jude." I mumble; it pains me physically to be nice to him.

"See you." He says, already walking away. His back turned to me as he stands outside.

After many greetings, my dad finally closes the door behind them, slowly turning to me.

"Really? What kind of show were you putting on?" He begins, throwing his hands up.

"Dad! You have to check this door out. I tried to open it like three times, and the key barely turned!" I explain, speaking hurriedly.

"I swear, it wasn't on purpose. I didn't even know they were here!" I add, trying to defend myself further.

"Let's just go home..." He mutters walking back into his office, collecting his laptop bag and a couple documents.

I sigh, following behind him like a lost puppy. Slowly becoming more aware of the pain in my ankle.

"Where is everybody?"

"We finished this big case successfully, and I sent everyone home early. I had to stay back because of this appointment." He turns to me.

"Why are you here, though?"

"I wanted to visit and work on that essay."

"You're still not done with it?" He asks, locking his office door.

"No.." I reply guilty, fidgeting with the stack of bracelets on my wrist.

He sighs, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pushing me towards the entrance.

"I'll cook fresh tonight, and you'll work on that essay. What do you say?"

I crack a smile at his words, nodding.

"Deal! I would love some lasagna right now."

"I think- I'm going to faint."

I look up from my phone, frowning at Luis. The sun beaming down on our faces as we try to collect ourselves.

"No, you're not. You're going to show him how much of a professional you are with a camera." I say, patting his shoulder in reassurance.

We had received a very detailed email after agreeing to capture Apple CEO Tim Cook's visit to the club. This led us to stand in front of the training pitch, as we were instructed to film and take pictures of Cook interacting with the players.

Normally, we had timed posts that got posted automatically via an automated system.

This time, I had to live update the social media accounts of the club. Doing it all alone with Luis this time was a new experience.

We had only done it with approval for edits and drafts, and of course, goals that were scored or unexpected things that happened during matches.

"Take a deep breath and turn your camera on."

I say checking the time and posting another story on the club's Instagram before looking up.

We make sure to capture everything perfectly and move quickly to post the footage online.

After a few, excruciating fifteen minutes, we finally finish filming. Thinking Cook and President Pérez would just walk away, until they started approaching us. My own nerves building up as I glance at Luis who looks like he's about to actually lose it.

"Get your shit together, dude." I whisper, plastering a smile on my face as I finally shake Cook's hand. President Pérez also extending his hand as I shake it, a little more careful of my actions.

I wish I could just ask for a new MAC and a hundred million euros.

"Nice to meet you, sir. I'm y/n. Part of PR and marketing." I grip Cook's hand firmly, looking into his blue eyes through his black-rimmed glasses.

"Likewise." He responds, shaking Luis' hand as well.

"So, you two are the brains behind the genius team?" Cook asks, looking in between the two of us.

"Very flattering, but we have an amazing team beside us. We've been chosen today for our recent hard work. Though, I would say- Luis here is definitely one of the best, if not the best cameraman to work with." I say, trying to speak in the most polite way possible, smiling kindly.

I had never sucked up to someone this hard, but it had to be done.

I watch Cook's gaze move over to Luis, looking impressed.

"Well, I've seen what you've put out. My biggest reason to visit is definitely because of your team. As you have might have heard, I am very impressed by the amount of growth this football club has had on social media. I think you two definitely deserve to take some of that credit."

"Thank you, sir. We do appreciate that." Luis says, and I watch his facial expression intently.

He was really good at pretending to be okay.

"Right, then we will make our way back inside." President Pérez interrupts. We nod almost immediately, giving them a polite smile as they walk away.

We both watch them leave our proximity. Then look at each other with a blank stare before I witness Luis burst out in laughter.

"I've never heard you speak so sweetly."

"What should I have done. Call them 'dude!' or 'mate!'. Besides, I just gassed you up in front of the CEO of Apple. Thank me at least." I say, scoffing, checking the analytics of the posts before looking back up at the training pitch.

"Thank you. You're the best." He mutters, giving me a side hug.

"I know.." I say teasingly, shoving my phone in my pocket.

"Is it me, or did these guys just start training like their lives depended on it?" I laugh, seeing almost all of them fully drenched in sweat.

"Well, they had to impress the president as well."

I nod at Luis' answer, finally seeing Ancelotti dismiss the team. We watch them stop training, hearing some sighs of relief.

I hear someone call out to us, and we look around confused. Eventually, my eyes lock with Cama's.

"Yeah?" I shout back, watching him jog our way. Of course, the young French duo completes as Aurélien follows him.

« Comment c'était? » How was it?

Eduardo asks, a bright smile on his face as he still looks, very obviously tired.

« C'était bien, ce n'était pas très difficile. » It was good, not that hard.

I boast, seeing Luis look partially lost in the corner of my vision. I was sure he could make out some words, though.

« vraiment? » really?

Aurélien chimes in, having heard the first few sentences from afar.

"We were a little nervous, but I think we handled it nicely." I wink, jabbing Luis as if he could follow.

"What's with the French?" I hear, seeing the person I'd seen enough of this week already.

I watch Eduardo throw an arm around Jude's shoulder, bringing him into the circle.

"Just talking." He says, the atmosphere turning awkward for a moment.

My phone starts ringing right at that second. I quickly reach for my phone and read the caller ID.

'Hugo (PR)'

I show the phone to Luis for a moment, as he nods, giving me the go ahead.

I walk a couple meters away for privacy, then pick up the call. My walk a little off as my ankle still hurts. Only because of Thursday’s debacle. I don't even know why I didn't get it checked out yet.

The call lasts a couple of minutes, and I walk back to the group of guys. Looking at Luis in particular.

"Luis, we need to go meet Hugo. He wants a debrief on how everything went."

"We will see you guys during lunch." I say to the players, bending down to unzip the equipment bag, helping Luis pack the camera.

"Why do you walk so weird?" I suddenly hear Jude say, his voice filled with curiosity as I look up.

I sigh in annoyance, rolling my eyes, before standing up and handing Luis a battery he had to pack.

"Remember when I smacked the door into your face?" I say, hearing confused noises coming from the guys next to us. I ignore them, focused on rolling up a cable semi-aggressively while looking at Jude.

"You weren't the only one in pain, hurt my own ankle as well." I mutter, still pissed about the incident.

He doesn't respond, continuing to look at me blankly. Prompting me to ignore him further.

"You guys need any help?" I hear Aurélin say, and I shake my head.

"No, it's fine; we're used to it." I smile, muttering a quick 'bye' before Luis and I go inside, mentally preparing for the debrief.

"That was not the best I've seen." I whisper to Luis, as his face looked understandably grim.

"I don't even want to know what the mood in the changing room is like."

We were making our way to our cars in the parking lot after the disappointing 1-3 defeat against Atletico Madrid.

We were done with shooting content and decided to leave early. More people wandering around with cameras and all would probably be even more of a nuance to the players after a defeat like this.

"Just turn on a song. That is the only way we can forget about the pain." I half-joke as we unlock our respective cars. Both conveniently parked next to each other.

"What? Are you playing Future again?"

"Exactly."

Unlike the match on Sunday, the match against Las Palmas ended successfully with a 2-0 win for Real Madrid. The players finally made their way inside after a celebration with their proud fans, walking up the stairs through their stadium tunnel. Jude walking alongside his teammates into the changing room.

His eyes catch Luis interviewing his teammate and Man Of The Match, Joselu. He looks around for a second, not seeing the girl he'd grown accustomed to fighting with every time they interacted. Confused as to why she wasn't doing her usual post-match task.

Ignoring his brewing thoughts, he walks into the changing room. He hears his name being shouted halfway through taking his sweaty shirt off. Looking up to find Antonio looking at his arm.

"Your arm is bleeding, man. Get it treated at the nurse." Antonio suggests, patting his shoulder.

He nods, thanking the man. He puts his T-shirt on carefully, trying not to make contact with the wound. Dressed in a clean shirt, he steps out of the changing room. Walking through the hallways and knocking on the door of the medical room before opening it.

No medical personnel is in sight. Though, he does see someone curled up in a blanket on one of the treatment beds.

The person raises her head to check out who entered, a groan leaving her lips in dissatisfaction as she spots a confused Jude.

"Why are you here?" He asks, eyes roaming on her defeated figure.

"I'm dying, obviously." She mumbles, burying her head deeper into the pillow.

"Finally." He mutters, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"Fuck off.." She replies, pulling the blanket closer. Not in the mood to entertain him.

"Where is the nurse?" He asks, sitting across from her on the other treatment bed.

"Left to get me some ibuprofen." She replies, feeling more pain in her lower stomach. Unable to hold back a pained groan, she rests her head down again.

His eyes soften for a moment, but he tenses up when he hears the door open. A male nurse looks at him curiously as he walks into the room.

Still, the nurse prioritizes the sick y/n, helping her take the ibuprofen with a gentle hand on her back, accompanied by a glass of water.

Jude stares at the two, his eyes following the nurse’s movements like a hawk.

"Do you require treatment?" The nurse asks in Spanish, turning towards Jude when he sets the cup down.

He looks at the nurse like a deer in headlights, recognizing some words, but not enough to understand the entire sentence.

"He's asking if you need treatment." He hears y/n translate, her body slumped against the bed.

He nods immediately, showing off his arm. Dark red blood dribbling down to his elbow.

He watches the nurse’s eyes light up, getting the required equipment and bandaging his wound within a couple minutes.

"Gracias." He mutters, fidgeting with the bandage as the nurse cleans up the equipment.

He watches the nurse leave, his eyes darting back to y/n across from him.

Jude raises his eyebrows in interest as she turns around in the bed. Frown on her own face. The thin blanket not covering her body anymore.

An unusual concern for the girl starts brewing in his chest, he tries to shake it off. Look away, but he can't help but look again when he hears her shift again. Now, with her back turned towards him.

He stands up, walking towards her. His body moving on autopilot, his brain screaming at him for a clear reason why he should care about her or help her willingly.

Seeing her shiver slightly, Jude looks at the end of the bed, seeing the blanket jammed in between the mattress and bed frame. He glances at her one more time before grabbing the blanket, pulling it out from in between the bed and then quickly draping it over her body.

She doesn't react, drowsy enough to not notice. It making it the perfect moment for him to book it out of the room.

He almost has a heart attack when he crosses Luis, probably on his way to check up on his coworker in the medical room.

He sees Luis look at him for a second but avoids eye contact, continuing to just booking it into the changing room.

Why did he even do that?

His brain scrambles for a reason, all kinds of thoughts whirling in his mind, quickly chalking it up to having morals, the ones his parents taught him since he was a young boy.

You had to have morals, even when you mutually despised each other so much, right?

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #real madrid fc #jude bellingham fanfic #footballer x reader #football imagines #football fanfic #football imagine #bellingham x reader #real madrid

179 notes · View notes

currentfications · 6 months

Text

Ocean Eyes | Part 8

Pairing: Bada Lee x Producer!Reader

Synopsis: At team BEBE’s practice, the girls have a little gossip among themselves

Warning: None? But y/n is not in this chapter because I am not feeling well and just wanted to write a little something for funsies- sorry y’all ( ･᷄ὢ･᷅ )

AN: Am not good at writing conflict so the original part 8 is scraped hehe instead I’m procrastinating and decided to write a light hearted dribble with the girlies instead~ thanks for tuning in again ^_^

Previous | Next

Tatter smelled something suspicious in the air following Bada’s MIA status after their Performance Battle. Yes, the team did witness Bada landing on her chin during one of the routines- and it’s not that the BEBE member didn’t believe in said injury- it’s the fact that their team leader was oddly giddy after the fall. Like, straight up lowering-her-cap-by-the-rim-to-hide-her-smirk-lip-biting-giddy. ‘No one should be that cheerful after tearing a muscle’, Tatter had decided. ‘Therefore, Bada must be suspicious’, she further deduced.

“Look at her trying to play coy with us,” Tatter leaned over to their team’s sub-leader and muttered, frowning at the charm which the choreographer seemed to be exuding lately. Looking pointedly at their team leader, who’s currently snapping a selfie in the studio mirrors (presumably to post it on her instagram later), Tatter narrowed her eyes. Bada had always been a heartthrob to the camera and fans, but the blonde dancer had noticed a telltale spike these past weeks. “Look at all that swag, she must be overcompensating for something.”

Looking up from her stretches, Lusher followed Tatter’s gaze towards their team leader in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, whose mood did seem to be extraordinarily pleasant as of late. “Oh- Oh damn. Sorry for calling you crazy last week, you were clearly onto something.” Lusher squinted at Bada’s obnoxiously preppy footsteps in the morning. “Prancing around on a Monday? Somebody got laid over the weekend.”

‘Who could it be?’ Tatter wondered to herself as she finished warming up for the day. ‘Bada’s reaction to the bouquet and the card- what an interesting reaction.’

“Whoever it is,” Lusher pressed her palms together dramatically and said a little prayer, “thank you for keeping her happy, and our lives easier.”

“Amen to that,” Minah chimed in. “You reckon it’s someone from the show?”

“Elaborate.”

As the duo bickered among themselves regarding the identity of Bada’s newest scandal, Tatter continued to ponder over the pieces of information she had accumulated. Her eyes lit up as she recalled Latrice’s request, and something involving a skirt.

“Lusher,” Tatter interjected a debate between Minah’s team-Redy and Lusher’s team-Audrey. “Do you remember that time Bada asked to borrow your skirt?”

Lusher snapped around with speed that almost warranted whiplash. “Latrice’s friend!” Her hand flew to her phone by the dance studio’s floor length mirror, flicking through her contact list. “Aha.”

Latrice was at the shops when her phone chimed. Reading the message popping up on the phone, she chuckled a little and clocked the noseyness instantly. Within a few moments, Latrice had sent through your best ‘this is her’ photos and social media profiles to the team BEBE’s subleader.

Tatter and Lusher hummed squinted their eyes at your picture, trying to pinpoint why’d you look familiar. A shockingly good candid photo of you attending an event was pulled up on Lusher’s phone. A gray suit sat on your shoulder, accompanied by a scowl as the photographer had caught you off guard (cr 📷: Latrice). “I think I’d remember if she’s been around,” Minah wondered aloud.

“Elevator, real tall.” The usually timid Sowoen piped in unexpectedly. “The one with mother Miranda vibes.”

Now that registered in Lusher’s mind. “Wait,” Lusher zoomed in on your picture, “does Latrice have more friends in town?”

“Mhmm- I dig the delinquency,” Tatter said, still staring at the phone. “Bada finally found her match huh.”

“I’m giving my number to her,” Sowoen announced. The youngest is filled with surprise today.

Tatter and Lusher glanced at each other before bursting out into a fit of giggles. “We are pretty sure Bada is linking up with her, what do you mean you’re giving her your number?”

“I called dibs!” The youngest of the group wailed, her teammates now laughing at her flushed red cheeks.

The noise attracted their team leader, who have finally decided to investigate the shenanigans that the girls have been up to.

“What’s the gripe? Who do we hate?” The tall choreographer butted between Sowoen and Minah, expecting another Selena-Hailey debate going on among the dancers, only to be shocked when Lusher turned her phone screen to her. “Woah! How’d we get this?”

Sowoen gently prodded a finger at Bada’s shoulder. “Bada-unnie,” she quietly, but firmly, requested for Bada’s attention. “They said you’ve been linking up with her. Respectfully, that’s not cool man, I called dibs.”

The group stared wide eyed at the baby of their team, who’d suddenly found her voice in the team- and immediately chose to use it to declare her utmost disappointment at their team leader’s disrespect.

“Wait. Pause. Rewind. how did the conversation get here in the first place?”

“I find you suspicious these days,” Tatter shrugged.

“Can you still pass my number along?”

“I have no idea what’s going on but I’m loving your energy,” Lusher and Minah egged on. A ‘go Sowoen’ was muttered by one of them.

Bada stares incredulously at her teammates, “y’all this is the toxic gossip train-”

“Nope,” Tatter cuts her short, not giving Bada a chance to finish her sentence. “That’s not how that saying is used.”

“We won’t gossip if you give us the tea,” Minah proposed an alternative.

“There’s no tea!” Bada shook her head at the girls, raising a hand in defense. “Look, it’s nothing serious, and I won't let it affect my work. Can we please get back to brainstorming some Rihanna songs?”

The group gasped, Sowoen looking over at Tatter for moral support. “So there is something going on?”

“Oh come on,” Bada sighed exasperatedly, sticking her tongue against the hollow of her cheeks. “We’ve been filming for months, do you know how hard it is to find someone who can work around my schedule?”

“You have a schedule… to fuck?” Minah side-eyed her team leader. Tatter swiftly placed her hands over Sowoen’s ears. “That changed my perception of you- Not sure what kind of change- but not for the better, I can assure you.”

“Jesus, that’s not what I mean,” Bada rolled her eyes at the girls, defending her image in Sowoen’s eyes. “As much as I love dancing, a woman has needs, alright? Hey- no, don’t boo me Lusher. I saw the way you acted around Chocol. You little sl- I said don’t boo me!”

“Eh,” Tatter shrugged her shoulders and pointed her chin at the phone screen, “lesbians? Give ‘em two weeks, three more dates, and they’ll be u-hauling.”

Bada gasped, “accusatory and stereotyping.”

“Hey wanna bet that bada is going to use winning the show to get laid?” Ignoring their leader, the girls giggled amongst themselves.

“If we win-”

Minah was cut off by Bada. “-when we win.”

Sowoen gasped and pointed a finger at the team BEBE leader. “So you are planning on doing that!”

The girls watched their team leader dumbly open and shut her mouth as she attempted to come up with a witty comeback. When she drew a blank, she huffed and retreated to the speakers across the room, fiddling with the Bluetooth settings as she tried to keep her hands busy.

“Bada-unnie,” Sowoen cleared her throat before throwing in one last jab, “if it’s just a fling you won’t mind me asking her out, right?”

Tatter learned two things that practice: 1, Bada, despite contrary beliefs, bottoms (frequency still unknown, but seemingly not zero). 2, Sowoen is a milf hunter.

‘What a week!’ Tatter thought to herself. ‘And it’s only Monday.’

Tag list: @bada-lee-ily @lil-elliesgf @rubywonu @wiselight @avocifera

#swf2 #bada lee #bada lee x reader #swf2 x reader #fanfic #bada lee x fem reader #bada lee x y/n #tatter #lusher #minah

156 notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 9 months

Text

Call Me

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: When you are parted from Benedict, he guides you through pleasuring yourself....

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, use of sex toy.

Word Count: 3.5k

Authors Note: this is a very belated request fill for the talented and lovely @broooookiecrisp from her ask HERE, where Benedict guides the reader through masturbation. She also chose the pic above, which looks very modern Benedict in Tuscany :) I hope you enjoy this story, my lovely. Thanks to @colettebronte for reading this through & @eleanor-bradstreet for the title. Enjoy! <3

The Facetime call connects as you recline, wearing your noise-cancelling wireless headset.

“Hello darling,” that familiar smooth voice greets, “I've missed you.” His sigh is deep and heartfelt. With the volume up, it sounds like he is lying right with you, but then it's in both ears; the stereo effect makes your tummy feel warm.

“I've missed you too,” you hum, toying with the corner of the duvet you lay under. You are so happy he secured an artist retreat residency in Tuscany for the week, but you miss him terribly. He's only been gone a few days, but it feels like forever.

“I'm sorry this has to be an audio call; the wifi here is shockingly slow and the phone reception non-existent; I thought it better to sacrifice a blocky video for crystal clear audio,” he explains. “You will just have to imagine my face,” he adds with a soft laugh.

Indeed, your mind fills with images of his handsome face; you can even picture the gentle, lopsided grin you can hear in his tone.

“Are you somewhere private?” you ask, a little nervous.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” his question shifting into that lower cadence that fires all the butterflies.

“I miss you,” you offer again, hoping perhaps he can intuit what you are asking for, drawing your knees up, the cotton sheet catching on your heels as you do so.

“I miss you too,” he echoes again, “but I don't think that needs to be said in private,” his tone laconic.

He knows exactly where your thoughts have slid, but he's playing innocent. He always goads you into pushing to speak your mind, to voice your desires, and tonight is no different—gently coaxing you to profess what you want.

“I want you to talk to me,” your voice with a slight waver that betrays a hidden meaning in the words.

“I am,” the timbre makes the little earphones in your ear almost vibrate, and a frisson runs down your spine.

“No…” you hesitate, “talk to me,” emphasising the word.

“If you want something from me, darling, all you have to do is ask,” his tone a dark lilting tease now.

“Talk to me like you do when we are intimate,” you rush out on an exhale.

His rich chuckle makes your nipples pebble without so much as a touch. “Now we are getting somewhere….” he buzzes. “Are you going to touch yourself for me while I do, hmm?”

You bite your lip but can't disguise the whimper that escapes. You close your eyes and flick the volume up two notches on your phone, throwing it aside so both hands are available.

“I want you to tell me what to do,” you breathe, pushing the duvet down your body, feeling heated.

You hear the noise that catches deep in his throat; it's thick and desirous, and you thank the technology gods for headsets with this level of quality.

“What are you wearing?” he rumbles.

“Nothing…” you confess, knowing it's breathy and wanton.

“Oh god, yes,” his rushed response, a reflex that makes you clench your thighs together, loving how affected he is just by that simple statement. “Where are you?”

“In our bed.”

“Under the covers?”

“I was, but now I'm feeling hot, so I've pushed them aside. It's just me… naked… uncovered… alone… resting on your pillow…”

With each little phase, you can hear his breathing getting more pronounced. “Why my pillow?”

“It smells like you,” you answer.

“Does that turn you on?” his voice going tight.

“Yes, oh god, Ben, yes, it does.”

He growls lightly when you say his name, the noise in your ears so loud it makes you squeak, a hand straying to your breast.

“Guide me, please; I need to imagine it's your hands on me. “Draw me a mental picture as clear and evocative as one of your beautiful paintings.”

“Hmmmm,” his thoughtful hum runs right through your body with the volume up. “How about we take this slow, build to something? I have a painting I worked on earlier today. Would you like me to describe it to you? Describe how I would paint you into it?”

“Yes! Yes, please,” you enthuse quickly, desperate for his artistry in all senses of the word.

“It's Tuscany, a sun-drenched summer’s day,” his storytelling is always spellbinding, so you settle back into the pillows as if listening to a private audiobook made just for you. “The sky is azure blue; the fields are bright, verdant green. Olive trees dot the rolling hills all around. Right in the middle is a small vineyard. A gentle slope of neatly rowed vines, the leaves canopying bunches of ripened grapes, drooping heavily, ready for harvest.”

As he speaks, you spider your fingertips over your collarbone, imagining the heat of the sun on your skin.

“The grass between the vine rows is lush and thick, a balm from the heat,” his sonorous voice continues at a lush pace. “That is where I would paint you, lying on that hillside. The cool blades tickling your back as the sun bakes your skin.”

“What am I wearing, Benedict?” you inquire, gently biting your lip as your hands stray lower onto the swell of your breast, so enchanted by the picture he paints.

“Exactly what you are right now,” he responds with a slight hitch.

“Nothing?” you gasp, the idea suddenly so risque but more beguiling.

“That's right,” he rumbles. “I would paint you utterly nude.”

You brush lightly around your own areola, writhing gently under your own touch.

“Are you with me, Benedict? In this vineyard?” your breath quickening.

“How else am I going to paint you unless I am there too?” he teases gently. “And guess what I would be doing while I'm painting?”

“What?” goosebumps on your arms with anticipation, your fingers moving concentric circles.

“I would tell you to touch yourself, just as I am now. There is nothing I want to paint more than you in the throes of ecstasy,” he exhales raggedly. “You are beautiful, wild, glorious….”

“I want that too,” you rush out. “Why have you never done it before?”

He chuckles richly; the sound feels like a shimmer over your body. “Because it would be impossible to be near you when you are naked and not to touch you,” his admission is almost rueful.

“I wish you were with me,” it’s wistful.

“I am,” he assures. “just remember hmm? Sunny hillside, naked, the sun on your skin and me there with you. Now, darling, I can tell you are already doing something; I can hear the quirk in your breath. Tell me, tell me in detail.”

“I’m..” you hesitate, “...I’m touching my nipples,” you rush out, finally letting your fingers trail over the nub, pebbling hard as he moans lightly.

“Oh yes,” he stutters, “don’t stop. Give them a gentle pinch for me. Between your finger and thumb…” he waits for your little hiss, and then he hums, “Mmm, does that feel good?”

“Yessss,” you hiss.

“Imagine it’s my fingers, darling,” he requests, and you do.

You think of how it feels when his hands cup your breast, as you do now, and tease your nipples until you beg him to stop. You hear his breath catching in his throat as you make tiny little needy noises and tilt up a fraction off the bed, teasing yourself as he does.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Now wet your fingers, suck on them…”

You know he can hear the wet, suckling noise right in his earpiece as you do as commanded, returning your fingers and painting the dampness over your skin as it puckers heavily under the sensation.

“Now pinch yourself just a little harder; imagine it’s my tongue and teeth; I know how much you like it when I suck hard and just a gentle bite….”

“Ben…” you murmur his name as you move, your head rolling on the pillow, eyes fluttering.

“Fuckkk,” you hear him mutter, losing his composure. It makes something inside you catch fire, a tingle between your legs buzzing harder.

“What next?” you beseech, wanting this to go quicker but at the same time to never stop.

“Slide your fingers down over your ribs, my love,” he stumbles a little, and you hear a squeak as if he is changing position.

“Tickles,” you giggle, and Benedict laughs softly with you.

“I know. I love to run the tip of my nose there,” he divulges, “or I may use a firmer touch. Do that, darling. Sweep your whole palm down, and feel the rise and fall with your breathing as you go.”

You do as asked, the heavier touch centring you somehow as your hand slips onto your tummy.

“Take your time, but don’t stop moving lower, darling,” he lectures. “You know I never do.”

It is so low it echoes around your whole being. Your thighs fall open, a trickle escaping your body.

“Oh god, I’m burning for you, Ben,” it’s out before you can stop it.

“Where?”

“You know where,” you obfuscate.

“I'm not there, remember? I need you to paint me a picture. I know you can do it. Don’t worry. No one can hear us; it’s just you and me. Missing each other.” His gentle, loving reassurance is the push you need.

“Between my legs,” you stutter under his coaxing.

“Are you wet for me?” he queries, panting a little.

“Yes,” you disclose quietly.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Not yet,” you swirl your fingers through the patch of hair, almost as if waiting for his permission to touch.

“You want me to tell you exactly what to do, don’t you?” He intuits.

“Please,” you croak.

“Okay. I just have one condition…” he tapers off, temptingly, knowing he has you on tenterhooks.

“What?” the question is breathy, impatient.

“You have to be loud for me,” he petitions. “Don’t you dare hold back; I want to hear it all.”

“Okay, I promise,” you whisper, your clit pulsing, aching to be touched.

“Alright….” He begins as you hear more sounds like he is getting into position in bed himself, a slight rustle of cotton. “Bend your legs, bring your heels up high right near your bottom…”

You do as instructed.

“Now, splay your knees out wide.”

Again you follow to the letter, feeling the cool air swirling around your exposed, damp slit.

“Reach behind your head and then slide my pillow under your hips…,” he continues in that sinful tone.

“Why?” You check even as you do as asked.

“Because I want my pillow to smell like your pussy when I get home,” he snarls. The untamed way he says it, so loud in your ears, makes you squeak. He has no shame in being explicit, even if you often flounder to do the same.

Now, with your hips raised, it’s easier to touch yourself; likely, he thought about that, too.

“Mmm, are you comfortable again?” he checks.

“Yes,” you confirm, hand slipping to where it was before.

“Good, now take your middle finger and slide it lower,” he instructs. “Keep going until you find that little clit of yours,” you swear he has entered an even throatier register now, each word like dark silk cloaking you.

As your finger pad slides over that spot, you can’t help the little ohhhh that escapes your lips.

“Oh yes, you’ve found it, haven’t you? Now slide a little lower, hook that finger, and pull back up.”

You do as told and moan as your finger immediately snags the most sensitive spot.

“Oh fuck yes,” you can hear the shudder in his tone, how affected he is, making you fizz too. The self-consciousness melts away as his precise instructions root you into your body, letting your mind shut off all the thoughts and worries—just focussed on the present.

“Swirl that finger gently for me, baby,” he compels, “anticlockwise.”

Instantly, your body responds as if it were his touch. You breathe deep as you keep moving, the slickness of your desire easing your motions.

“Are you swelling just a little?” he sounds more urgent now.

“Yes,” you confirm, your clit swelling under your touch as you picture him, his face hovering over you, imagining his fingers teasing you as his lips slid hot over your neck.

“Oh god, I love when you get all swollen and puffy and flushed right there for me,” he groans lewdly, and it’s a beeline straight to your pussy. It convulses around nothing, leaking over your bottom cheeks and onto his pillow. You call his name louder, squirming bodily, something tugging inside. Your body craves him—to be fucked, invaded, pushed open, pounded until it aches from that delicious stretch.

“Fuck I need you, Ben,” you moan as your fingers move faster, sliding over that little pearl. “I need you to fuck me so hard.”

“I want that, but not yet,” he grits out, your declaration seeming to fuel him. “Imagine it’s my tongue, darling, lathing against your clit, drinking up all that beautiful juice. You always taste divine, like a slightly tart peach, sweet but sharp.”

Your mind supplies images of just that, his slightly stubbled jaw rubbing against the sensitive skin of your labia as he has to use both hands to hold you open to his onslaught, your legs reflexively wanting to close up around his head at the powerful sensations you feel, your fingers running into his lush head of hair, nails scraping along his warn scalp, praising his skill.

“When I tell you to, you grab your vibrator, baby.” he interrupts your reverie.

“Yes,” you comply, knowing it is tucked safely under your pillow beside you.

“For now, keep rubbing for me; go faster,” he implores. “Let me hear you, your beautiful voice….”

You speed up, changing motions as he guides you to do so. Softly chanting his name as you notch higher up that invisible ladder. But he knows your body so well—knows with absolute precision when to shake things up, as he does now.

“STOP!!!” he instructs harshly.

You instantly halt ministrations, whining, hearing his laboured breaths loud in your ear, your fingers frozen inches above your folds.

“Oh, are you pulsing baby? Are you so close to coming?” he sounds proud, almost smug.

“Yesssss… please let me continue,” you plead, lungs heaving.

“No,” he menaces as your hand wanders over your thighs to stop the temptation to defy him, feeling the quiver in your muscles.

“Where has your other hand been?” he quizzes.

“Gripping the sheets,” you admit as he huffs a laugh about your honesty.

“Now swap. Touch your clit with that hand,” he tutors.

“What about my other hand? It's soaked,” you confess abashed.

“I know, baby, we are going to put it to good use. Slide two of those soaked fingers inside your pussy for me,” he instructs, so low that every word buzzes in your bones.

You call out his name as you slide two fingers deep into your own soaked pussy, rippling around your touch, a lewd, squelching sound as you do so.

“Oh fuck… I think I heard that,” he inhales sharply.

“You,” you assert, “you did this to me.”

He makes a feral noise in response, breathing in harsh gusts.

“Fuck yourself,” he growls, “fuck yourself with your fingers.”

Your movements are instinctual now, following his words to the letter. Shame melted away under the heat of desire. For him, for this. To come so damn hard you scream the walls down. Plunging your fingers as deep as you can reach, over and over. Your hips are pushed high off the bed, shoulder blades and feet taking your weight as you race greedily towards your peak, forehead and the back of your neck dewy from the exertion. Thinking of his fingers buried inside, of how, when it’s him, he holds you down with a solid quad muscle over your thigh, doesn’t let you buck up as you are now.

“Please, Ben. I need your cock,” you bumble, uncensored, whimpering that you can’t quite reach as deep as he can, reach that spot that makes you babble utter nonsense and white out with pleasure.

“Grab that vibrator y/n. Fuck yourself properly,” he orders gruffly.

You release your clit and fumble under your pillow for it, a slight sound of victory catching in your throat as you do so.

Without preamble, you thrust it inside yourself, just as he would with his cock when he knows you are this mindless. The stretch isn’t as good as him, not the same weight and heat, but it still feels like a heavenly sensation in your heightened state. Your noises staccato as you take it all on board, pausing slightly to get used to the invasion.

“Did I say you could stop?” he interrogates.

Without riposte, you scramble to obey, withdrawing the vibe then sinking it back in, attempting to ape one of his rhythms, the sense memory of him moving inside you making you moan loudly.

“That’s it. Does that feel good?” his voice practically a purr.

“Yes, but not as good as you,” you answer, missing the feel of him surrounding you when you are fucking. Skin, sweat, scent, weight, the feeling of another body covering or moving under yours.

“I know, darling. I promise it will be me soon. I’ll be home in a few days,” he pledges, breathing hard.

“Will you fuck me as soon as you are home?” you implore, wanting nothing more in this moment.

“Yes, baby. I’ll take you in the hallway if you want,” he vows, his cadence desperate.

“Please…” that word is all you can stutter as the hand controlling the vibe becomes a frenzy, your pussy clinging to its mass as if it were his cock.

“Don’t forget that engorged clit,” he reminds. “I need you to rub it as hard as you can with that other hand,” his voice is becoming more broken. “Im fucking you right now,” he avows roughly, “It's me, darling, fucking you so hard. And you feel so so good clenching around my cock…”

You belatedly realise he may be touching himself, may have his cock in his hand as he walks you to orgasm. It makes your thighs tremble and clamp around your hands.

“Are you touching yourself too, Ben?”

“Yessss”, he hisses. Below the sound of your joint panting, you can hear the faint sound of skin slapping lightly as he fucks his fist.

It’s that image in your mind - him sprawled naked on a bed, skin sunkissed against the crisp white sheets, in a thick stone-walled Tuscan villa, the scent of wildflowers and the lush sound of crickets wafting through the open shutters - that hurtles you towards completion. Imagining yourself right there with him, gripping the wrought iron bed frame as he fucks so deep you can’t help but scream his name and shudder as it is his fingers snagging over your clit rather than your own.

The next few moments are a frenzied blur as, after some last gasps, you emit a long, loud scream as you come so hard, convulsing around the facsimile of his cock, your clit jumping under your touch, dimly aware he is still streaming filthy, needy encouragements that descend into gruff noises as he follows you over, the tell-tale sound of that final moment when he comes so loud against your eardrums as if he is right there slumped around you, his lips hot on your neck.

There is nothing but gulping breaths as both recover, feeling no shame, just a bone-deep satisfaction that makes you languid and heavy, not wanting to move, just curl up and sleep, a t-shirt of his you grabbed earlier your companion in his absence.

“Fuck I came so hard,” he sounds almost sheepish as it sounds as if he is cleaning up his torso.

“Me too,” you concur, little ripples of fire still running down your legs and arms, oversensitive to any stimuli; even the bedding feels almost too much.

“I want you to come again, but you sound sleepy,” he assesses correctly, and you hum in agreement.

“Too sleepy,” you slur the words as you turn onto your side and fling away the toy to be dealt with another time.

His amused sound is rich and warm. “Curl up, my love,” you once again find yourself carrying out his bidding without conscious thought.

“How long until you are home, Ben?” you mumble after a stifled yawn.

“Thirty-three hours,” you can hear the affectionate, lazy smile as he says it.

“Too long,” you lament gently into his t-shirt, the citrus-woodsy scent of him a comfort.

“Next time, come with me; it's beautiful here,” he murmurs ardently.

“I may love it there too much,” you jest, “I may never want to leave.”

“If you were here with me, I may never want to either,” he imparts softly.

You just hum contentedly. “Will you stay on with me?” you ask quietly, “until we fall asleep?”

“I never planned for anything but,” he responds fondly, a warmth blooming behind your ribs at his words.

And that is how you drift off, whispering sweet nothings as you slip into a restful slumber. The call only disconnects hours later when your batteries run out as you both sleep soundly.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @0x1harmonia0x1

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

237 notes · View notes

mellarked-katnisseverdeen · 3 months

Text

Still, slowly making my way through rereading. I promise one day I am gonna finish. But I have a thought I think I've shared before but feel like it's worth mentioning. I actually don't think Peeta is *that* much more experienced that Katniss when you take Gale into consideration.

Peeta says that he's noticed just about every girl, but Katniss is the only one who made a lasting impression.

What this means to me is that yes he might have attempted to form other relationships, other girls did turn his head but it never shook his interest in Katniss. I think he probably kissed a few girls, maybe even got a little touchy before as well. In that way I do see him as slightly more experienced. There may have been one or two of them he really did connect with, even. That he could have been happy with. But they were never Katniss, who he couldn't shake. Peeta KEEPS noticing Katniss even with these possible girls, that is fairly directly stated in canon.

And I just don't see Peeta as willing to go further than that with anyone when his thoughts and heart kept returning to Katniss that way. Yes he is a flirt but as kind as he is I don't think he's lead anyone on or play games like that. Ultimately, I think that is actually probably what ended those relationships. Peeta not being willing to lead anyone on like that.

Shockingly, that's not terribly different that Katniss and what she tries to explore with Gale. Albeit, emotions like guilt and outside pressure effect Katniss and her dessiion making. She also doesn't go beyond some tame kissing with him. But it's the same thing, at the base. The bond Katniss and Gale had made Katniss wonder what a life choosing him would look like, and she even as she does, she keeps coming back to Peeta.

#Everlark #Katniss Everdeen #Peeta Mellark #The Hunger Games

82 notes · View notes

beauspot · 11 months

Text

*Good Omens 2 Spoilers*

I want to share my thoughts on the way I’ve seen some people talking about Aziraphale since the season dropped(cliff notes: i don’t like it)

i understand being upset with aziraphale i am too. i wish everything could be tied up in a neat bow all the time and all of the characters i liked got their happy endings right away, but that’s not realistic. aziraphale has been under heaven’s thumb since before the earth was even created. and you might say “well crowley figured out heaven was the worst and couldn’t be fixed just like hell way early on” and yeah that’s true but guess what?

aziraphale isn’t crowley. shockingly they are two different characters who react to things differently. whatever thoughts or questions aziraphale had he kept to himself because he didn’t want to be thrown from heaven into a “pool of boiling sulfur” and be eternally damned. how strange 😒

i see people saying unironically that they hate aziraphale and will never forgive him for hurting crowley which is so mind boggling to me because aziraphale’s first thought when he’s offered the job is to bring crowley with him. it’s his top priority. no demon has ever been reinstated as an angel, that has never ever happened ever. So yeah in aziraphales warped perspective he is trying to save crowley. he loves crowley too he just can’t admit that to himself yet because he has been told it’s wrong his entire existence (think of it like internalized homophobia. is it clicking now?)

he goes about it the wrong way entirely and he should have turned the job down and went after crowley but did you forget who we’re dealing with? aziraphale who in the 3rd episode thought he deserved eternal damnation in hell for lying to save the lives of 3 innocent children. he’s been so indoctrinated and he’s not going to unlearn that in a matter of 4 years. and yes i say 4 years because in 2019 aziraphale very much still saw himself entirely on heavens side (with a few exceptions).

like leave him alone? and if you hate him don’t come back next season seriously, we don’t need you here with us.

and also happy endings all the time are boring.

308 notes · View notes

chronicbeans · 1 year

Note

Hi! Since I saw the illustrator wally series I've been exited to request this, it was also sad to see how nobody has yet come with this idea or at least I haven't seen anyone else bring this up so here I come!

It will be interesting how It would work a relationship between Human wally and reader who has maladaptive daydreaming along with autism, I thought of how would it be to meet someone who has to experience something familiar with you. ( since maladaptive daydreaming can be described as a variant of schizophrenia with some small differences ) anyways, I'm a desperate for representation-

ET TU, BRUTE? Omg I maladaptive daydream too (if I am reading it right and you mean to say that you do IT-). My therapist says that I am like, addicted to it lol. My family counselor also likened my case more towards depersonalization/dissociation/a variant of DID due to me only daydreaming myself as other people. This is actually the first time I have heard of it being described as a variant of schizophrenia, but it actually makes a lot of sense, now that I think about it! I need more representation too, so let's do this! I'll try to make it as broad as possible, because everyone daydreams about different things!

Illustrator Wally with an Autistic Reader who Maladaptive Daydreams:

TW: Mentions of Hallucinations, Maladaptive Daydreaming

🖍️ He is a bit confused when he sees you pacing around your living room. He is visiting, and decided to try to surprise you by sneaking up behind you and giving you a gift! Now, though, he is a bit enamored by how you are prancing around, muttering little things to yourself as you seem so carefree and happy in your little world. This is the first time he has seen you like this.

🖍️ You finally end up turning around, in his direction, and your face grows a bit pale from shock and embarrassment. "Uh... Hello... I'm so glad you came to visit!" You try to play it off, but he is too intrigued. Maybe you are like him, and hallucinate, too?

🖍️ You explain what you were doing. You daydream... WAY more often than other people! Intense worldbuilding, character arcs, and more all take place in your head the majority of the day. You like to prance or pace, finding it helpful to feel more comfortable. You also tend to stim in other ways if you cannot pace or prance. The odd facial expressions and mutterings were just you getting in character and reacting to what was happening in your daydreams.

🖍️ Wally is intrigued. It is so... similar, but different, from him. Both you and him are autistic, yes. He's known that for a while, since you told him around the second or third meeting between you two. THIS, though, is so amazing to him. He wants to know more about the stories in your head!

🖍️What do they consist of? Are they horror? Romance? Action? Comedy? He wishes to know. Are you in them? Do you play someone else? Is it from a third person perspective, watching over your creations? If it is something child friendly, maybe you can write a book and he can illustrate it!

🖍️ Even if it is something more... dark, disturbing, overall NOT a kid friendly topic... he would still want to draw it! Maybe he can start to expand his illustrations into more adult books. He is shockingly good at drawing horror, you know. Some of his vent art is a really disturbing treat to view.

🖍️ You might get onto the topic of how both of your conditions are similar and different. You have a lot of characters floating around in your head. Different worlds, stories, everything! Wally does have, in a way, characters, too! The little voices in his head count, right? Sometimes the same one will pop up every now and again. Both of your conditions seem, in a way, uncontrolled. Due to Wally preferring to not use medications, he simply lives with the voices and hallucinations, going to therapy to help him cope and learn to live with it. You just go with the flow, in a way. As far as you've heard, the best and only way to help deal with it is therapy. No real medication or anything.

🖍️ You both are finally happy to find someone similar to yourselves. The best part is that it is similar enough to be familiar, but different enough to have such interesting conversations!

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home au

327 notes · View notes

undead-supernova · 3 months

Text

I'll Pay the Price, You Won't.

Island Breeze in the Dead of Night

Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

Masterlist

plot: you're on vacation and you desperately want to tell Eddie you love him…and how much fear can you swallow before it overflows?

(I’ve always loved the idea of writing about a vacation and here we are! Fulfilling my silly little daydreams.)

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: brief discussion about eating/media body shaming, drinking, Eddie saying some spicy words

easter egg count: 14

wc: 4.3k

“How’s it going over there on fuck island?”

You snorted at Este’s words, trying to pick up some speed on the treadmill. Luckily there’d been a gym on the island, a must for the tour you’d be preparing for in the next year. You’d been trying to build stamina, tired of wanting to drop dead while onstage.

Not that there was an album to be toured. You had a few songs, sure. But how the fuck were you supposed to keep writing happy songs? And how were you supposed to do that within the next six months?

Nonetheless, you hated the treadmill. So you called Este.

“It’s not fuck island,” you corrected. “But, to answer your question, it’s going great.”

It’d only been two days, but it had been blissful. You and Eddie spent most of the days together, lounging by the beach or sleeping. Eating whenever you wanted to. Meeting the rest of the band at the end of the night, one person assigned to cook for every day that you were there. Play board games. Make some drinks.

And, yes, a lot of fucking. A lot.

Regardless, it was a very laid-back vacation.

“I’m sure you’re all over each other like sick puppies being like, ‘I love you.’ ‘No, I love you more.’”

You kept quiet.

“You have said I love you, right?” Este asked, her voice slow and deliberate.

“I mean,” you started, trying to think of what to say. “He hasn’t said anything, so I haven’t.”

“You know that someone has to say it first, right? Like, you can just say it and see what he says.”

“I don’t know…”

“You are in love!” she exclaimed. “What else is there to know! If you don’t tell him six months in, then what are you doing?”

There were some things you didn’t like to think about. Especially on vacation in the British Virgin Islands where you spent most of your time sitting in the shade on top of your boyfriend. Why ruin a perfectly good time with talks of those kind of feelings? Why ruin the restoration of your bodies that never seemed to slow down? Why not allow everything to freeze in time for a little bit?

“You’re literally on an island right now,” Este huffed, as if she could read your mind. “How is that not the perfect time to say I love you while snorkeling with dolphins?”

“Under the water?”

“Okay, but what if you end up stepping on a sea urchin and it gets infected and then you die?”

You laughed but had to catch your breath as you sped up again. Beads of sweat dripped down your neck and disappeared into the fabric of your t-shirt. But you could tell some of that sweat was from something else entirely.

“Couldn’t he just pee on it?” you teased.

“Tell him you love him while he pees on your foot."

“Why am I friends with you again?”

“Because you loooove me.”

Before you could respond, there was a knock on the wall. Eddie walked in, startling you. You almost tripped but caught yourself, turning down the speed immediately.

“Hey, how’s it going in here?” he asked.

“Is that him now?” Este teased.

“Uh, hey, Este, I gotta go,” you said quickly.

“Don’t let me stand in the way of true—”

You ended the call before giving him a nervous smile.

Eddie was looking…well, he was looking good. He was in a Metallica tank top (a t-shirt he tore to shreds no doubt), black swim trunks, and, shockingly, black flipflops. His tattoos were littered over his arms and legs, the hint of one on his chest popping out. A wild bun thrown to hold his hair back, sunglasses perched on his head.

“Hey.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he replied, walking over to give you a soft kiss.

You wanted to jump back, to keep him away from how bad you probably smelled but Eddie didn’t seem to mind. Though, he did pat your back instead of giving you a hug. You couldn’t blame him.

“Wanna get some lunch before we hit the sand?” he asked, holding out his hand.

You nodded, maybe a little enthusiastically, happy to press your palm against his.

“Are you gonna let me shower first?”

“Maybe,” he whispered, leaning into your neck to lick up some of your sweat. “Stinky.”

Despite the small whimper that left your lips at the stimulation, you murmured, “You’re so gross.”

“Didn’t sound like you found it gross,” he teased, already tugging you towards the door.

You rolled your eyes, unable to deny the accusation.

“Shut up.”

Lunch was peaceful, with Eddie ordering you whatever you desired. He told you to enjoy yourself, enjoy your time on the island. He was sweet like that, always encouraging you to eat what you wanted, whenever you wanted. It was something he never shied away from being made known.

“Why do you do that?” you asked him when a second piña colada was placed in front of you.

He gave you a grin, slipping another French fry between his teeth before responding.

“I just like seeing you do what you want to do.” He leaned in further. “And, if I’m being honest, you always do what everyone else wants you to. ‘Oh, do this. Do that. Eat this. Don’t eat that!’ Fuck that. I hate that shit. You're not some clay pot they can mold or whatever. It's ridiculous.”

You couldn’t disagree. “And you think me eating all this food will change that?” you half-joked.

“I think you eating whatever the fuck you want and not worrying about what anyone else thinks is a good start.” He took a sip of his frozen margarita, one with a little umbrella, before adding, “And when you’re with me, sweetheart, you don’t have to compromise a damn thing. I’ll make sure of that.”

His words affected you more than you wanted them to. It wasn’t like he was wrong. Months and months ago, you’d let it slip that you ate extra healthy in public so tabloids couldn’t have “evidence” to slam you for your looks. That the sheer idea of eating bread or pasta was unheard of if anyone could see. (Not to mention having to order dessert to go, in secret in order to throw off the scent of fatphobic headlines.) You never won when it came to the media, even if you were content with how you looked.

By the time you and Eddie left the restaurant, well-fed and slightly tipsy, Eddie had you pinned up against any wall he could, lips attached to yours. Whispers of how pretty you looked, murmurs of things he wanted to do to you later. It left you in a fit of giggles that were quickly swallowed by his mouth.

It was a scene to behold, out in plain sight, but it was addictive. It was exactly what you’d wanted as a teenager who dreamed of true love. A love to call yours without hindrance from the opinions of others.

You would stay forever if this was what the rest of your life looked like. Just the two of you, lovestruck on an island that seemed to leave you alone.

When you set your stuff down at the beach, you couldn’t help but stare at Eddie removing his top. It was something else to see Eddie nearly undressed in public, sprinkled with dappled sunlight. Face risking the promise of sunburn, all rosy-cheeked and red-nosed. The scent of sunscreen wafting off him, sand somehow littering his hair. It was everything.

Under your sundress was that turquoise bikini Eddie had gotten you months before. You’d been wary about wearing it in public for the first time, but he promised you that people weren’t privy to taking photos here. That you were just as safe as you’d been in his pool. That you deserved to feel good.

And when you took the dress off, you could feel Eddie’s eyes raking over you. Because you turned, watching him stare at you through his sunglasses. He did that thing from the movies, pulling them down to the bridge of his nose, brown eyes dilating.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you chided.

“Mm, I’d rather take a Polaroid,” he said, making grabbing motions with his hands so you’d come closer. His hands found your hips before giving them a light squeeze. “And then, you know, cum all over it later.”

His words had you flustered, looking around as you hoped no one else could hear him. The others on the beach were too far away, but you couldn’t help but feel exposed. Some part of you knew it was because of your swimsuit, but you tried not to let it eat at your brain.

“I’d like that,” you said back, quieter than before. “But you better shut that pretty mouth of yours before I drag you back to our place.”

“Our place?” he questioned, a cheeky grin popping out. You rolled your eyes as his face got closer. “You wanna call it ours?”

Too bashful to respond, you kissed his shoulder before stepping back and walking towards the water. He was right behind you, hands finding purchase on your waist. It was as if he was stuck to you, making sure he followed wherever you strayed.

You couldn’t cope with how much you liked it.

You couldn’t cope with how much you loved him.

“Don’t like my teasing?” he asked as your feet touched the water.

Shaking your head, you took a tentative step forward. It was hard to tell the full truth, no matter how much you’d already shared. For some reason, everything still felt so delicate. Even six months in, it felt like it could all slip from your fingers at any moment. Why call something “ours” when there was no promise that it would be there tomorrow?

And why the hell were you thinking like that right now?

“I like it a little too much,” you admitted despite your reluctancy. Forcing yourself to make eye contact, you added, “The idea of something being ours.”

“Does it now?” he asked. His voice was playful, but you could see that it made him feel soft when he pursed his lips, dimples deepening.

“Mhm,” you responded, feeling a bit more confident.

Eddie kissed your cheek. “I’ll keep that in mind, fair maiden.”

The squeal of a child is what awoke you. Eyes fluttering open, your eyes adjusted to the light behind your sunglasses. And the ache of them sitting on the bridge of your nose had you tearing them off. Which, yeah, was a mistake.

The umbrella seemed larger than before, cocooning you from the rest of the beach. A little paradise in public, all warm and cozy. It wasn’t shocking to find that you’d fallen asleep.

“What time is it?” Eddie asked from under you.

“We fell asleep. Again,” you said with a yawn, sitting up. “I think it’s two? Maybe?”

Eddie was already wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back on top of him. Nuzzling himself back into you. Keeping you hostage.

“Good thing we napped, ‘cause we’re partying tonight,” he said with a mischievous grin. “It’s Emo Night over at one of the clubs.”

Raising an eyebrow, you looked down at him. “Thought you guys didn’t party anymore, old man.”

Throwing his free hand over his chest, he said, “We’re on vacation and you wound me.” Your shared laughter mixed seamlessly before he planted a kiss on your collarbone. “Come on, what do you say?”

You let out a huff. “I already said yes two minutes ago in my mind.”

Eddie looked up, grinning like a devil before pulling you down to connect your lips.

You really could just stay there forever.

You really, really could.

When you went to get ready for the night, your embarrassment set in as you stared down at your suitcase. You hadn’t brought anything black because you never really wore anything black. But you refused to say anything to Eddie or the others, too nervous you’d sound insecure.

But the thing was that you were insecure. And if you did say something, Eddie would offer his clothes that you couldn’t fit into. So, instead, you sucked it up and made yourself look damn good in what you already had: a tight baby pink tank top and a short white pleated skirt with some wedges. The outfit complemented your curves, hitting your waistline just right. You were a beauty queen to behold, no matter how out of place you’d look tonight.

When he got out of the bath, Eddie was there to shower you in compliments as he ate you out, skyrocketing your confidence like never before. And if you so happened to give him head before having to redo your makeup, well, it was worth it.

The two of you were rushing out the door, trying desperately to make it to the others in time before you had to leave. As you sped walked through the winding streets, you couldn’t help but look over at Eddie. He’d stayed in a black wife-beater and a pair of fitted black shorts. Kept his signature rings and beat-up black Converse. Hair in a low bun, eyes shadowed in sparkly charcoal, and his guitar pick choker. Your pretty boy, your gorgeous boyfriend.

A chorus of greetings sounded the moment Grant opened the door. Everyone was decked in their usual ensembles, only altered slightly to accommodate the weather. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant even complimented you on your outfit, lowering your insecurities just enough to breathe momentarily.

But something you noticed was Ronnie eyeing you. It wasn’t obvious at first, just catching her gaze every now and then. By the sixth time you caught her looking you up and down, you were fully aware. Not to mention extremely confused by the behavior.

And it wasn’t something neutral. No, her eyes seemed to narrow bit by bit as Eddie held onto you. As he laughed with Grant over an inside joke. As he handed you another shot with a kiss.

Giving you this look that bordered on a warning. Like you were doing something wrong. Or, rather, she still expected you to make a mistake. Trip up and prove her right.

All you wanted to ask her was what could prove her wrong. What could you do to possibly give her the impression that you were worthy of Eddie’s affections?

But that was something you still wondered for yourself.

It was a chilling thought that you held the same questions.

After pre-gaming with a round of shots and a shared joint, the six of you headed out to the club. Slightly cross-faded, the journey into the club was a little hazy. Because there were bodies upon bodies, all dressed like your boyfriend and the four others in your group. And you stood out for the most part, noticing glances from strangers.

But there was Eddie, arm snug around your waist as you made your way over to what seemed to be a private area overlooking the rest of the crowd on the dance floor. A shot was put in your hand and before you could think, the six of you were throwing them back like it was nothing. And judging by how drunk you already were, it sure tasted like nothing.

Right after slamming the glasses on the table, “If You Can’t Hang” by Sleeping With Sirens started, causing the crowd to cheer. You were one of them, looking at Eddie with a wide grin as he smiled at you.

“Ready to dance, pretty girl?” he asked.

You giggled. “Oh, I was born ready, pretty boy.”

The entire group moved to the dance floor, dangerously close to the growing pit. But you felt a surge of impulse, winking at Eddie and nodding over at the circle. A grin stretched across his face before you pulled him into the whirlpool. He howled in hysterical laughter as you went round and round, arms locked together as you moved around the pit.

You yelled the lyrics with him, giggling at the way Eddie was straining to sound just like Kellin Quinn. Stomping your aching feet through a circle, stabilized by the people on the outside. Round and round you went, a carousel of sweaty bodies colliding, all blissful in the shared comradery. An adoration for music and human connection.

This was better than any after party you’d been to.

“I met a girl talking away!

She found a boy she knew she’d change!

I changed my hair, my clothes, my face

To watch us go our separate ways!”

What a gorgeous rush it was to be there with him. To be people for once, not just celebrities. It was just you and those around you, all able to enjoy this moment together. You were normal. You were human.

And when Eddie grabbed you and swung you both out of the pit, he kept a grip on you. Kissed your temple before pulling you back towards the others. Swayed and let the people around you move you towards your destination.

“You’re fucking crazy for going in blind!” Jeff screamed as you neared, stabling you when the crowd jostled again. “Fucking crazy.”

You merely laughed, shrugging at him. “What can I say? I’m having a good time.”

“Have you ever been in a pit before?”

You turned at the sound of Ronnie’s voice, your smile starting to falter just a little bit. Just enough for her to catch.

Because no. No, you hadn’t. And you didn’t realize that that mattered to her. Or to anyone for that matter.

“Uh, no,” you responded.

“I think it’s hot,” Eddie said into your ear before looking over your shoulder. “She was great for her first time, right?”

You turned back around to meet his wild eyes, more interested in him than whatever the fuck Ronnie had to say about your behavior. He started singing again, attention now on you and only you.

It was addicting, gesturing with your hands as you screamed with your boyfriend at the top of your lungs. There was a certain form of catharsis that came from moments like these, fueled with the release of every negative emotion once associated with the lyrics. Now they were transformed into joy, a shred of light at the end of whatever tunnel that song had once held you in.

As the final verse kicked in, you pulled Eddie’s mouth to yours. Gasped at the way his fingers dug into your waist. Basked in the love that was overflowing from your heart. Your fingertips. Your eyes. Your mouth. Every piece of you was mesmerized by this moment, this little pocket of perfection that couldn’t be replaced. And, God, you truly believed for a moment that it was going to last forever.

“Would you please stay and come inside, baby?

Would you please stay and please be mine?”

To say that you were drunker than you’d been in months was an understatement.

Shot after shot, one drink after another, you were filling up with a bubbly kind of adrenaline. You rotated in jumping into the pit, all of you ending up there at some point. What was left of a voice in your head kept you out of Ronnie’s way, her cold shoulder always too close for comfort.

But Eddie suggested you get a final round. And who were you to pass up on that offer?

As you and Eddie headed towards the bar, you could hear the faint sound of someone calling both of your names. You didn’t want to turn, didn’t want to give attention to a stranger, but you couldn’t help it. And when you did turn, you saw a woman make direct eye contact with you.

All green eyes and wavy blonde hair, looking like a rock star’s girlfriend. Short denim skirt and even shorter crop top, smiling with mauve lipstick. She was really pretty. And then she looked at you, practically scoffing at your appearance.

“Oh my god, Eddie?” the girl squealed, turning her face into something more innocent. “I’m a huge C-C fan.”

C-C?

And Eddie being cross-faded, all open and smiley, gave her a high five.

“Hell yeah!” he exclaimed, chuckling.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked.

“A quick getaway with the band and my pretty girl over here.”

That’s when she finally acknowledged you. “Nice to meet you… You are?”

There was that little cut in your chest. You’d heard her say your name. She knew who you were. And she was making it very clear what your place was.

“Can I get a selfie with you?” she asked Eddie when you didn’t respond.

Here was a stranger. A fucking stranger trying to put you in your place.

Eddie nodded. “Fuck yeah, no problem.”

And Eddie wasn’t even aware. He couldn’t understand.

The girl turned to you, giving you a once over like Ronnie had earlier. “Actually, would you take the picture?”

And it was like a punch in the gut, her tight-lipped smile so different than the one given to your boyfriend. She was playing a game behind Eddie’s back, making her disdain for your presence known.

As you took the photo, some part of you couldn’t help but agree with her. Maybe your presence wasn’t as welcome as you once thought. Maybe you didn’t have a place here. Eddie just might not have seen it yet. Maybe he would soon.

When the girl walked away, bumping your shoulder on her way out, Eddie planted a sloppy kiss to your cheek and wiggled his fingers under yours before tugging slightly.

“C’mere,” he said, voice nearly overshadowed by the music. “Screw the next round. Lemme dance with my gorgeous girl. Hm?” You merely shrugged. “This reminds me of the night we met. Remember?”

That brought a smile back to your face. “How could I forget?”

He grinned, kissing your forehead. “Favorite Beatles song?”

“’Ticket To Ride’.”

“Excellent choice off of Help!”

You rolled your eyes. “Why thank you.”

“Just come here, baby.” How he was able to pull you closer was beyond you. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

You sighed and nodded, letting him turn you around before heading back to the pit for another round of revelry and chaos.

“Did I stand out tonight?” you asked, the last of the alcohol turning you into a secret sharer. “Like, did I embarrass you?”

“What? No, baby. Never. Why would you think that?”

You and Eddie had sobered up by the time you fell into bed. But neither of you were quite tired yet, still buzzing off the energy of the nightlife. You caught each other’s eyes, heads on pillows turned towards one another. Moonlight dripping through the curtains. Eddie there, all porcelain and blue. All beauty and grace.

“’Cause I wasn’t dressed like you and Gareth and Grant and Jeff and Ronnie and—”

Eddie’s lips cut you off, all gentle and lovely.

“I like you just the way you are,” he said. “Would you want me to be someone else?”

You shook your head. “Never.”

“Exactly.” Huffing, his eyelids drooped before they fluttered back open. A soft smile adorned his lips. “You called me a pretty boy in your song.”

You chuckled. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, I did.”

“You think I’m a pretty boy?”

“The prettiest.”

“I like that. Pretty boy. People think I’m all mean and scary.”

“In reality, you’re just a soft, pretty boy.”

“The softest,” he agreed. “And the prettiest.”

“I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.”

“You already did, silly girl.”

You said nothing.

Eddie took your hand, holding it against his chest.

“Wanna ask you something true.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“What do you miss the most from before?”

You thought about it, fiddling with his tank top all the while.

There was a lot about life before fame that still held value to you. The simplicity of going grocery shopping or to the farmer’s market. Writing in a coffee shop for hours while strangers flitted around you. Walking around thrift shops. Taking your time doing literally anything.

But there was one place you could always stay invisible. A place that transported you to a different time, a different dimension. Come out a different person than before. You could almost taste the buttered popcorn and your favorite soft drink combo. You could almost taste that kind of anonymity again.

You smiled. “Probably going to the movies.”

“You could probably rent out a theater for a matinee showing. No one goes to those.”

“I did,” you said, smiling. “It was my favorite thing to do. Get a few dollars off, have the theater with one or two people who also had a day off. It was fun. I’d save up just to go see a movie.”

Eddie’s grasp on your hand tightened. “I think that’s cool. I always went to the movies and now I just pay for streaming. It’s actually pretty shit.”

“It sucks,” you agreed.

He let out a hum. “You’re making me miss it. Fuck.”

“Do you ever want to go back to that?” you asked softly. “You know, just being a person and not a celebrity.”

“If you asked me six months ago, I might’ve said yes.” The smallest smile reached his tired face. “But I never would’ve met you if I hadn’t gotten famous.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” you breathed.

“I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

“I never want to be with anyone else ever again,” you confessed, closing your eyes. “I think you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. It’s just scary.”

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart,” he said, voice seemingly farther away than before. “You have me.”

And as sleep began to wash over you, you were left with one last sentence.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

A special thank you to @strangergraphics for her help with these cool dividers!!! Always in love with what you come up with.

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #boyfriend!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #rockstar eddie munson #I really hope this doesn’t suck!

43 notes · View notes

alwaysonthemend · 6 months

Text

Part III: Three Sheets to the Wind

Word Count: 4506

Warnings: Violence / talk of prostitution / vivid descriptions of death and injury / threat of sexual assault (sexual assault does not happen - if you would like more information before reading, please feel free to send me a message and I will be more than happy to explain further), / talk of unrequited love.

I think that is all but if I am missing something please tell me.

18+ only. Minors DNI

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Voices wafting through the wooden panels of the door draws me back into consciousness. The rocking of the Starcatcher had lulled me to sleep in my exhausted state, but now the constant to and fro makes my stomach roil with nausea. I keep my eyes closed against the hot, acidic waves in my belly.

“Miss Y/n?”

It’s Daniel’s voice on the other side of the door and I sit up, doing my best to smooth over my hair as much as I can. It’s a lost cause.

“Yes?” I call, voice cracking with sleep.

“I have breakfast for you, miss.”

“Come in.”

Daniel’s broad frame comes into view as he opens the door, a tray of food balanced precariously in one hand. In the other he has clothes folded across his arm.

“The Captain sent these clothes for you.” He says kindly, placing the tray of food in the bed next to me and holding up the garments. The blouse he holds up is white, along with a pair of brown trousers that look to be my size.

Sitting up, I furrow my brows in confusion.

“These are women’s clothes. Where did the Captain get women’s clothes?”

Daniel only smiles tersely at me.

“Belonged to a friend.” He answers, laying the garments across the foot of the bed. “We’ll be hitting land soon and the Captain has requested that you stay on board for the duration of our visit.”

Rising to sit up fully, I appraise Daniel with a raised brow.

“I assume that is a demand and not a request?”

“Aye.” He nods once and begins making his way back to the door. “I’ll leave you to it, miss. Won’t be long before we’re ashore. We shouldn’t be staying long.”

“Thank you, Daniel.”

–

Breakfast had been nothing but strips of salted beef and grapes but I had scarfed it down quickly – finding myself still shockingly ravenous despite my earlier nausea and the food had done well to settle my stomach.

Daniel had not been lying when he said that we would be landing ashore quickly, as no sooner had he left the room, the whole ship had rocked and lurched as she was anchored to land. I’d listened intently to the sound of the men moving about on the deck above, their heavy boots pounding against the wood and making the whole room shake.

After I’d finished eating, I puttered about below deck for a while, trying my best to familiarise myself with the ship. Though, after noting that an hour had passed since last I’d heard movement, I quickly grew restless. Daniel had said that they wouldn’t be long on shore, but time was inching along slow as molasses.

Deciding that the Captain had no right to order me about like the rest of his crew, I changed into the clothes he’d provided for me and slipped up the stairs. I climbed back out onto the deck and squinted as the light of the sun hit my eyes. Judging by its positioning, it must be just an hour past midday.

–

As soon as my feet touched the ground, my senses were assaulted by a foul smell. It wasn’t overly pungent, but rather seemed to be leaching from the very ground itself – stale and unavoidable as I made my way across the dock.

The streets in front of me were crowded – bustling and busy as men in all sorts of dress made their ways to and fro. Some were dressed in Navy petticoats with feathered hats and leather shoes. Others were dressed in clothes hardly worthy of being called such – stained and ripped and hanging off their sinewy frames. The ramshackle buildings that lined the streets were all wooden, each looking as if it had been thrown together as an afterthought. Not a single structure looked as if it had been planned; only haphazardly thrown together at the last second. As I eyed the chaos in front of me, the name of this place struck me like a ton of stones.

This is Nassau.

Nassau. The place where Benjamin Hornigold had managed to establish a safe haven for pirates from all across the seas. I’d heard mutterings of it from fisherman back in Easthallow who had been unfortunate enough to cross paths with those seafarers who consider themselves a part of this God-forsaken pirate republic. Though a “republic” is a kind term for this place. No real official dealings took place here – only pissing contests between men like Hornigold who happened to have garnered enough prestige amongst these heathens to be able to call himself their leader. This island is no place for a woman – least of all on her own, but no sooner had the realisation of where I was hit me, a man was already approaching me with a determined stride.

He’s tall – broad shouldered and his long black hair lays matted across his shoulders. His skin is tan. So tan, in fact, that his skin looks more like leather. His clothes are not so tattered as some of the others that I had seen, but they were still a far cry from the Naval petticoats that others were wearing. I cannot help but to take a step backwards, ducking my head and shrinking away from his imposing figure.

“How much?” The man asks as he steps in close to me, his hot breath carrying with it a foul smell as he speaks.

“I beg your pardon?” His question took me off guard.

“I asked how much?” He repeats, tone already bleeding with impatience.

I stare at him for a moment, brain working overtime trying to figure out what he means. Though, as soon as I do, I wish that I hadn’t. As I glance around, I see no women populating the busy streets. No doubt, the only women who come to a place like this only come for one reason: money. Money gotten by selling their bodies – a last ditch effort to keep themselves alive and fed in the only way that they can. And this man thinks that I am one of them.

Deciding that there is no way that this man will believe me if I tell him that I am here on business (though not of my own), I instead just shake my head at him.

“I’m.. I’m not working at the moment, sir.” I manage to stutter out, taking yet another step away from him.

“Not working?” His thick eyebrows raise and disbelief and I worry for a moment that he’s going to become angry. Instead, he merely shrugs his broad shoulders before shuffling away in the opposite direction.

I release a breath, my own shoulders untensing as he takes his leave and relief floods through me. That could have gone south quickly and there would have been nothing I could have done to stop it.

Brushing my sweaty palms across my thighs, I scan the bustling streets in search of a familiar face. Daniel, preferably, but anyone would do at this point. Seeing no one that I know, my eyes land upon a tavern across the road. I scan my eyes side to side one last time before darting across the road, doing my best to avoid the puddles of water and mud.

–

The tavern is dimly lit – the windows completely covered by the shutters. I scan the crowd, taking note of each man inside. There are a few slumped over at the bar, eyes half-lidded and chins glistening with rum. Some sit tucked away in shaded corners, hunched over the tables and whispering amongst themselves.

The room reeks of alcohol and sweat and the back of my neck prickles with unease. Coming here was definitely not one of the wiser choices that I have made.

Though truthfully, I cannot help the awe that fills me – a bit reminiscent of child-like wonder at the sight of Nassau. Growing up. I had heard from countless sailors about the dreaded pirate republic tucked away in the Bahamas and always the idea had intrigued me. A place where men do as they please – free to go and do as they wish. A place where even freed slaves might find a place as part of a pirate crew. And here I am, seeing it for with my own eyes. If only my younger self could have known.

Scanning the crowd, I still find no faces that I recognize and figure that I should most likely take my leave of this place before things go awry. But, as if the universe can read my thoughts and is intent on making things more difficult, just as I turn to leave a man locks eyes with me. He’s incredibly tall, with long black hair and a thick beard on his face. He stands as he spots me, taking large strides in my direction and the thud of his boots on the floor are like a countdown to my own doom.

Sensing his intentions, I dart back out the door, rounding the corner blindly in an effort to lose him. It’s a cramped alley, smelling of shit and rotten food. I press myself against the wall, praying that the man will not follow.

My prayers are not answered as he rounds the corner as well, his eyes locking onto me almost immediately.

Dear God, his eyes. Dark, wild looking. They practically glitter as they rake up and down my form.

I swallow around the lump in my throat, my hands beginning to shake slightly.

“This be no place for a girl like you t'be alone.” He mutters, stepping closer and using his body to block me from going anywhere. Behind me there is nothing but a cobblestone wall – too high for me to climb. He’s got me caged.

“I- I’m here with someone.” I tell him, mustering up as much courage as I can to meet his gaze.

He glances around, comically searching for a moment before glaring back at me.

“Don’t see any'ne but us, lass.”

“He’s a captain.” I manage to say meekly as he begins to step even closer. There is some hopeless little part of me that thinks maybe he’ll leave me alone knowing that I am here with a captain of a ship.

He doesn’t stop until he’s standing just a foot away from me. His smell is rank – body odour and rum. It makes me want to hold my breath.

“I am too.” He says, tilting his head and grinning lewdly. “I don’t see him nowhere near, though. Jus' you an' me, it would seem.”

He leans his head downwards and I turn my head to the side, closing my eyes and pressing myself into the wall as much as I can. His lips hover just above the skin of my cheek.

“What say we pass the time a bit… until your Captain comes back?” He murmurs, his rough hand coming up to grip my arm tightly.

I try to yank free but he’s far too strong for me to overpower. I feel helpless – like a caged animal. He is large – far larger than me. And the cutlass on his hip means that I truly cannot hope to fight him off.

“Please let me go.” I plead, heart thumping madly in my chest. I know how this ends.

“Make me.” His other hand comes up and grips my jaw, forcing me to face him. His eyes dart down to my lips and my stomach roils.

“Help!” I scream and immediately his calloused hand presses over my mouth, muffling any sound.

“Shut it.” He says through clenched teeth, pressing his body into mine. I can feel him – hard and hot against my stomach and I whimper past the hand over my mouth.

“She said stop.”

Both of our heads whip to the side to see Jacob, his dark eyes glaring menacingly at the man in front of me. He’s got his hand on the handle of his cutlass, ready to draw it at any moment.

“Is this your Captain, lass?” The man mocks, looking Jacob up and down.

This man is far larger than Jacob – taller and broader. As thankful as I am for him coming to my rescue, I fear that he is outmatched. This man is nearly twice his size.

“I am.” He nods, before pointing at me. “And she’s mine. So I ask you to please step away from her. I don’t want to hurt you.” Jacob says, voice eerily calm. His face is passive – no emotions.

The man laughs loudly, tossing his head back as he does so. He steps away from me and shoves, sending me crashing to the ground gracelessly.

“I’d like to see you try, boy.” He says, drawing his own cutlass and pointing it at Jacob.

Jacob doesn’t move – his hand still lays still on the handle of his cutlass. He doesn’t draw. Instead, he waits. Dark eyes watching like a lion watching its prey. I can do nothing but sit there as the man walks towards him, slowly closing the distance between Jacob and his sharp blade.

I wait with baited breath – desperately wishing that I could do something but seeing nothing near that I can arm myself with.

With a gruff cry, the man lunges – his blade cutting through the air with wicked speed and I watch in horror thinking that it will slice through Jacob.

Instead, Jacob only side steps, just barely avoiding the blow and moving his body to the side. The man – having thrown his entire body into the cut, stumbles forward and loses his balance. In the blink of an eye, Jacob’s cutlass is drawn and the sharp blade presses into the man’s neck. He freezes, half kneeling on the ground and glaring up at the Captain.

“Are you hurt?" Jacob asks, his gaze softening ever so slightly as he glances at me.

I stand with a wince and shake my head 'no' as I make my way slowly to Jacob’s side. His eyes sweep up and down my body, looking for injuries. When he finds none, he jerks his head towards the road.

Understanding his silent command, I step past the two of them – keeping my eyes trained on the man, and move past them out of the alleyway.

Jacob moves to follow me, keeping his blade pointed at the pirate on the ground.

“Don’t touch what isn't yours.” He says darkly, before turning his back and lowering his blade.

Though I know he’s only making a point and that he is by no means calling me his, heat still rises to my face. Though out of necessity, he’d defended me; saved me from what would have been a horrific and vile experience. All at the risk of himself. I cannot help but to feel a warmth in my belly.

I turn to Jacob, intent on giving him my thanks but instead I gasp as I see the man lunge forward.

“Jacob!” I call, but it’s too late.

His blade slices through Jacob’s forearm causing his cutlass to clatter to the ground. Jacob groans and his other hand grabs the wound, red seeping through his fingers in a worrying gush. He stumbles backwards and the pirate lunges– shoving him with all his might. Jacob grabs him by the lapels and pulls, effectively bringing both men crashing to the grown. The breath leaves Jacob’s lungs in a huff as the man falls on top of him, but still he immediately begins to grapple with him for his blade.

On sheer impulse and adrenaline alone, I stoop downwards and wrap my hands around the handle of Jacob’s cutlass. With a cry of my own, I shove the man off Jacob and he falls to the side with a growl. I point the blade down at him but my will falters.

Jacob is up and off the ground in a flash and rips the cutlass from my grip and plunges the blade into the man’s stomach before he has a chance to take advantage of my hesitation. He cries out, a sick, wet sound coming from between his lips. Blood spills down his chin and he collapses backwards as Jacob pulls the blade out. He seems to struggle for a moment, a grotesque rattling sound coming from his chest before he stills, one last exhale coming from his nose as the life leaves him.

I stand there, the adrenaline finally leaving and in its place, ice cold dread. Jacob is breathing heavily as he wipes his blade on his coat before sheathing it again.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He demands, whirling around to face me, his face twisted in anger. “I told you to stay on the fucking ship!”

I can make no argument. He is right. He told me to stay and I had disobeyed, and now a man lays dead at our feet. A horrible one, surely. But still a needless battle with bloodshed that could have been avoidable.

“I am sorry.” I whisper, eyes flooding with tears that I refuse to let fall.

“You should be.” He grabs my arm, fingers digging into the place where the man had done the same just moments before and a wince slips past my lips. Jacob’s grip softens, and his eyes flash with something before the mask falls back in place. “The men are already back on the ship. We got back and I found you to be gone.”

I nod, feeling shame wash over me. If I had just waited for a while longer, none of this would have happened.

–

The trek back to the Starcatcher had been completely silent. Not a word was spoken as we boarded, nor even when all the eyes of his crewmates swept to us as we came onto the deck. Their eyes were filled with countless questions – especially Joshua’s as his eyes finally landed on Jacob’s bloodied arm.

“What the fuck happened?” He demands, eyes turning to me with an accusatory blaze.

I expect Jacob to tell them everything of my foolishness – to make a mockery of me for defying orders. Instead, he only shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand in Joshua’s direction.

“All is settled now.” He says placatingingly, tucking his injured arm behind his back. “But we should leave.” His voice pitches lower, turning just a tad more serious. “Quickly.”

His men had taken the hint, and the ship is quickly put into motion.

Guiltily, I turn to the Captain, my eyes cast downwards to his feet. I cannot bear to meet his eyes.

“May I help?” I ask him quietly, aching at the knowledge that he'd gotten hurt in defense of me.

His eyes sweep to mine questioningly.

“Your wound.” I clarify, nodding my head to the arm he holds behind his back. “Please.”

–

By some miracle, he relents and follows me back down to his quarters. He sits before me at the foot of his bed, shoulders weary and eyes tired

It’s silent between us as I make my way to the lantern and light it – casting the room in a warm glow. He watches me as I grab my pack and pull from it a linen blouse that I had grabbed the night we left.

I rip the fabric, causing Jacob’s eyes to widen subtly as I tear a long strip.

“Do you have any alcohol in here?” I ask him, wadding up the rest of the shirt in my hand.

“Under the bed.”

I stoop downwards and sure enough, a bottle of rum sits waiting. I grab it and make my way over to him, crouching down on my knees at his feet. He’s got his left hand clutched over his right, his knuckles white. His face does not show it, but the wound must be hurting him.

“Here.” I gently pry his fingers away and dip a corner of the ripped shirt into the rum.

The cut is not too deep - but it is long. It runs from the crook of his elbow all the way down to his wrist. Blood oozes from it lazily and there is no doubt in my mind that most people would be crying out from the pain.

I press the rum-soaked fabric to the wound and he hisses through his teeth, yet still says not a word. His body is tense, rigid as stone. He’s shed his coat and belt, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black pants and a white shirt. His sleeves - one of them stained red, are rolled up. He looks so much less imposing without his coat and cutlass and it feels almost sinful to see him so… exposed.

As I carefully clean the wound, I cannot help but to let my eyes roam the exposed skin. His forearms are thick, riddled with old scars and his skin is tanned and weathered. His hands, rough with callouses, lay limply on his knees. The veins on them stand out clearly - a testament to the strength of them. It takes everything in me not to stare.

He hisses again as I pull the now red cloth away from him.

“Captain,” I say softly.

He glances downwards at me, lips pressed together. I cannot read his face.

“I am sorry. For disobeying your orders.” My eyes fall, unable to meet his piercing stare. “And for causing your injury.”

He is silent, and I think at first that he is not going to answer. But finally, his voice – soft in a way that I have not heard before, breaks the silence.

“All is forgiven.”

My eyes snap to his, shocked at his tone. I had been expecting further reprimand. Perhaps even to be yelled at again. But instead, his voice remains quiet and smooth. Though he does not look at me as he continues to speak, I sense no anger in his words.

“I am upset with you for disobeying. I told you to stay here for your safety." He begins, brown eyes swirling with what I can only describe as worry. He had been worried for me. The thought is somehow comforting. "But you are not the cause of my injury. That man was.”

I only nod as I grab the strip of linen that I had ripped from my blouse and wrap it tightly around his forearm. I am grateful for his words, yet still... shame courses through me.

“Y/n.” He says, drawing my focus back to him. It is the first time that I have heard him say my name in such a manner. I think that I could listen to him utter it for eternity. “What that man did… what he tried to do, that is not your fault. Yes, you chose to leave the ship. But it was him who attempted to do something so vile. That is no fault of yours.”

His words ease the black ball of guilt and shame that had lodged itself in my sternum, melting it away to nothing but gratitude. His kindness – rare as it may be, makes my heart race and my cheeks warm.

“Thank you, Captain.” I murmur, tying a knot in the fabric. “I’m afraid that this is the best that I can do.” I tell him, rising from my knees to put the bottle of rum back in its hiding place beneath the bed.

Jacob rises too, flexing his hand and testing the bandage.

“It is far more than I am usually afforded.” He says, lips tilting upwards at the corners in a barely-there smile.

I wish suddenly that I could see a real smile on his face… one that reaches his eyes. I imagine it must be a beautiful thing. And as much as I want to push the thought away, this new, kinder side of him makes it impossible. So I covet the feeling, burying it away deep in my heart and storing it there to dissect later.

“Thank you for saving me. And thank you for letting me sleep here.” I nod my head towards his bed. “If ever you would rather me sleep somewhere else, just ask. Your hospitality is appreciated, though unnecessary. It is your bed, after all.”

“I don’t mind.” He says, watching me as I stand before him. “I prefer not to sleep in here, anyway.”

“Why?” The question slips past me before I can think better of it and I tense, expecting his walls to go back up as they always seem to do when I ask questions.

Instead of growing angry, he only shakes his head.

“A story for another day.”

I nod, letting silence fall. As I turn my head away from him, my eyes land on the painting on his desk. They must linger there for a moment too long, as when I look back at him, his face has fallen slightly. Instead of anger, there lies only weariness.

“I know that I have not told you anything. And please know that I am thankful for you agreeing to help me as you have.” He starts, his own eyes downcast. “But there are some things that I would just rather not speak about. Not just to you, but to anyone.”

“I understand.” I tell him, and I am shocked to find myself truthful. As much as I ache to know the meaning behind his quest, as much as the secrets had angered me at first, I sense now that this is not something that he is yet capable of talking about. Perhaps in time it may change. But for now, I must be content in knowing nothing.

“Thank you.” He says, bowing his head once before turning to leave. “Dinner will be sent down to you soon.”

He steps through the threshold and then stops and I wait with bated breath. Without turning back to face me, his head turned down to the floor, he speaks ever-so quietly.

“She is my wife. And I am trying to bring her home.”

With that, he’s gone.

I collapse numbly to the bed, my thoughts running rampant with possibilities. I look back to the painting, the woman’s dark eyes staring back into my own.

His wife.

There is no doubt in my mind now that whatever this quest may be… it means far more to him than I could ever understand. The sadness that he carries, the anger that is always there – just barely simmering below the surface, suddenly makes sense.

He is hurting. Suffering. He lashes out like a wounded animal.

And somehow my fate has been entwined with his to help him find this woman again – wherever she may be. Whoever she may be.

As I sit, the feeling that has been brewing deep within me since the moment I met him finally comes to the surface. It is not love – not yet. But I know myself well enough to feel certain that it will become it.

There is something about him… an aura that surrounds him that seeks to pull me in. And as much as I hate the feeling, as much as I hate myself for falling for a man like him (and under such circumstances), I know in my heart that I will stop at nothing to help him find this woman whom he loves.

It’s a scary thing – to care for someone enough to aid them in their search for happiness that does not live with you. It aches in the way old wounds do – a dull throb that is almost constant. But I cannot stop myself. I will help him find her. Whatever the cost.

There is a knock on the door. Dinner, surely. But I do not rise to get it. I am not hungry. Instead, I lie down on top of the covers, feeling as though I have suddenly aged one hundred years. My eyes catch the painting – her dark eyes seemingly staring into my very soul. I roll over.

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨

Part IV

Mirror of the Damned Taglist:

@jakeyt

@joshym

@sacredjake

@carbondancingthroughtime

@literal-dead-leaf

@sinarainbows

@ohgodthefeeling-gvf

@aflame4goinghome

@writingcold

@ignite-my-fire

@mysticalstarcatcher

@brinlygvf

@mackalah

@vanfleeter

@chewbeka22

@starcatcherchords

@char289

@amygvf13

@way-to-go-lad

@jaketlove

If you would like to be added to any of my taglists, please fill out the form here or send me an ask <3

#mirror of the damned #dee's writing #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka x reader #pirate jake kiszka #jake kiszka

50 notes · View notes

waywardian · 8 months

Text

Batfam Headcanon #2

Dick is shockingly attractive. He was an adorably, lovable child. With chubby cheeks, big blue eyes, curly hair and dimples. Then he went through an awkward phase from around 12-16. Wherein he was too lanky, with lean muscles that jutted out strangely when he contorted. His mood swings and impulsive outburts certainly didn't help his image.

Then the age 17 came. He moved out of Bruce's shadow. Got his own city. A new identity. Packed on a crazy amount of muscle, now that he was alone to take on all the heavy-hitters and all his awkward aspects finally.... Clicked into place. Into their final form. His personality morphed into a calm, independent, charming young man.

It's not always noticeable. Half the time, he's in a mask where you can only admire his caked goods. Other times he's busy laughing, making jokes and teasing his friends. Your eyes are too distracted by his personality to take in his appearance.

But there are those quiet moments. When he'll be staring out a window. Or figuring about a new strategy on the computer. His eyes will stare in complete focus. Blue and bright and magnetic. His inky hair curls at the ends, into his nape and around his ears. His skin has a healthy golden flush to it. His cheekbones are sharp and his jawline defined. His lower lip teased between his teeth as he ponders.

He'll figure something out, release the lip. It's stained rosy red. He scrunches his nose up in happiness, like his mother once did and a corner of his lip will tilt slightly up, so similar to Alfred's approved smirk.

And Barbara who'd been watching the security footage, will think to herself, "Ah yes. I have exceptional taste."

Hours later, Bruce will stumble into the room and see the five-a-clock shadow on his first-born and wonder, "When the hell did he grow up?"

And Gotham. She loved him first. Raised him into the gorgeous man that he is. The moment the paparazzi gets a rare picture of serious, charming, downright jaw-dropping Dick Grayson - the papers flood the shelves and by five am are all sold out.

All the citizens mourn the departure of their shockingly handsome Dick Grayson.

#dick grayson #batfamily #batman #dc robin #nightwing #fiction #headcanon #batfamily headcanons #bludhaven #gotham

104 notes · View notes

satoruni · 11 months

Note

Can I request a snake x reader where he’s finally ready to propose to y/n and settle down? I’d LOVE a breeding kink being included in it too 😭😭 tysm even if you don’t post anything! I love your work <3

WARNINGS: f!reader, snake being a loser, age gap, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink

You had found yourself increasingly frustrated with Snake. Initially, the thrill of covertly stealing kisses and sneaking into his room at dawn had its own charm. However the constant secrecy and his dismissive demeanour during the day began to wear on you. You grew tired of this little game and detested his feigned ignorance in front of everyone. The thrill had faded and had you yearning for something more stable, something more grounded.

Gradually, your attention soon shifted to Olmar, the son of Master Ketil and the heir to the vast farm. You were not blind to him fawning over you and his feeble attempts to impress you with his shockingly bad swordsmanship. It was best for him to remain here and you made sure it would happen.

Everyone was mortified to see you be more receptive to Olmar's affections.

"Hey, wasn't that cute thing hanging around you these past days?" Fox remarked casually one day. Snake simply gave him a cold glare before barking at him to do his job.

In truth, Snake had been noticing you and Olmar getting more and more closer each day. The sight of you two stirred a sense of envy within him despite him maintaining a nonchalant facade.

You were the one good thing in his life. In the midst of routine and tedium, your presence did bring joy to him. He didn't know why he even hid the relationship in the first place. Perhaps he believed he wasn't worthy of you or that he didn't deserve a fulfilling family life. These self-doubts and insecurities lingered in his mind, clouding his judgment and causing him to keep his emotions concealed.

So one day, Snake reached his breaking point and decided to interrupt you and Olmar's talk.

"Please move aside, young master" he muttered pushing past the skinnier and mortified Olmar without even sparing him a glance.

He proceeded to kneel in front of you, causing everyone around you to stop working as they looked at the strange sight.

"Uh, Snake, what are you doing?" Fox chuckled nervously as he looked at his brothers who stared slack-jawed at this uncharacteristic display.

With all eyes now on Snake, a hushed silence fell over the surrounding crowd.

"Listen," Snake murmured, his face flushed much to your shock and his voice tinged with nervousness. "I can't keep hiding this anymore and I can't bear to see you off with anyone else. I love you so will you marry me?"

Your eyes widened in astonishment as he opened his palm, revealing a stunning ring that sparkled in the light. A gasp escaped your lips and tears instantly flooded your eyes.

"Yes, you fool!" you replied, prompting cheers from everyone. Even Snake's men who found the whole thing to be incredulous could not help but feel happy for their boss.

You were waiting nervously on the bed, your heart fluttering with apprehension. As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, the door to the room creaked open, revealing Snake standing in the doorway. His eyes were heavy with lust and desire, making you squeeze your thighs together.

Snake then walks up to you and kisses you lightly on the lips, causing you to close your eyes and melt into his embrace. You kiss him again more deeply this time as he lifts you up and sets you down at the end of your bed, pulling your legs onto his lap so that your thighs straddle his hips.

Feeling bold, you pull down your shift over your shoulders and delighted in the way Snake's eyes darkened with desire.

"I really am a fortunate man" he said breathily. Snake's rough hands smoothed over the soft skin between your breasts, causing goosebumps to appear from his touch.

You moan sweetly as he sucks on your tits, feeling his hot tongue glide over your sensitive nipples and you felt yourself getting even more wet down there. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you guide his mouth back to yours so that you can deepen the kiss to which he eagerly reciprocated.

However, Snake wanted to take charge so he spread your legs, placing them on each side of his hips as he kissed and licked his way up your thighs. Snake then ran a finger along your wet folds and teased your clit, eliciting a gasp from you. His long fingers enter you, stretching your walls.

"Good girl" he whispers in your ear, making you tighten around him.

"Ahhh!" you breathed out heavily, your mind consumed by wanting him to just take you already.

Soon enough, Snake had entered you making you wince slightly at his large size. However, he was gentle, letting you adjust slowly to his size and you were able to find pleasure. Afterwards, Snake found his rhythm as he continually thrusted into you.

He truly did feel grateful to have you as his wife and the thought of you waiting for him bought him so much joy. However, his thoughts could not help but go to more lewd places, like you being heavy with his child. His mouth watered at the thought of your leaking breasts and your swollen belly, making him even more possessive of you.

While thinking this, his thrusts became much rougher and more powerful, causing you to stutter and moan underneath him. Snake enjoyed how your delicate body would spasm around him.

"Oh, Snake!" you felt his cum flood inside you, some leaking out.

"Hey, keep it all in," he laughed, kissing you passionately.

"Will we have kids?" you find yourself asking him shyly.

"We can keep going since my wife wants to be more thorough" you blush heavily at this eliciting a smirk from Snake as he continues to tease you throughout the night

#vinland saga #vinland saga x reader #snake x reader #vinlandsagaxreader #snake vinland saga

108 notes · View notes

liliumsabyss · 1 year

Text

Your being

FEM DNI, I SWEAR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ESPECIALLY WITH THIS

Viktor(Arcane) x FTM! Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Tw: Mentions of Dysphoria, Mentions of being ashamed for being trans, some self-hate, Reader is on T, Reader is Pre-Top Surgery but is getting it, Needles, maybe ooc Viktor(?), The word trans is never used it is always referred to as “this”(makes sense in the context), Viktor got cured

A/n: HAPPY TRANS VISIBILITY DAY! Yes I know I am a little late on this but I still wanted to put something out there as a trans guy. This fic is based on a lot of my own emotions with being trans and how it’s caused me to view myself but also how I’ve grown from my past views of myself causing me to not be ashamed of myself and just let myself be me. And if anyone wants to hear any funny stories from my trans ass I would be more than willing to share them as there is a surplus. So to all my fellow trans masculine folks I hope you enjoy this fic and I wish the best to all of you!<3

In the midst of pursuing the hexacore and building hextech with Jayce, Viktor had met you, a bookstore owner from the rim in which Piltover and Zaun met. You were far more intelligent than being a bookstore owner would let on but didn’t show it off not even being aware that you had it causing Viktor to take on an immediate liking to you as he would peruse through the bookstore on his way to the lab in the early mornings when nothing yet your shop was open. The two of you had become quick friends and then eventually lovers and then you found yourselves sharing an apartment for what you two tried to excuse as for “financial reasons” even though you both knew it to not be true. Your relationship had been built on trust which didn’t come easy for either of you and yet you had kept something to yourself for all the time you had been together you didn’t know why, you weren’t ashamed of it itself, but you guessed you were ashamed in your mind that it would never be the same after Viktor would know. So it was your secret you kept, Viktor never verbally questioned why would would sleep with your shirt on, why you would use a bathrobe instead of a towel, why anytime physical intimacy started to “heat up” you’d awkwardly would put an end to it, why some days you’d sneer at anything that had a glossy enough surface to see your reflection, why you’d have to stab yourself with a needle full of some mysterious medicine(of course in the beginning he did question that one in concerns of your health and safety) and other attributes that for most men wouldn’t make sense. And you were so thankful for that so you kept your secret you knew it would never last but being with Viktor was sweet bliss so you’d enjoy it while it lasted. However you got a letter in the mail regarding top surgery you had spent years saving up for it your hands shook opening the letter terrified of what the surgeon had wrote and reading it you dropped it on the desk, heart surging, tears starting to well out of your eyes, and a huge smile found its way onto your face. They said yes. They said yes. The approval of the surgery. You’d finally be rid of the flesh on your chest that you so much anguish, the flesh that you detested would be replaced by two scars that would mark your struggle and victory. But as you checked the time you realized you were going to be late opening the shop you quickly stuffed the letter in the desk not thinking much about it running off being sure to lock the door behind you racing down the squeaky hallways.

Hours later Viktor arrived home shockingly early for him, you hadn’t even been home yet the reason he was home is he realized that while working on the hexacore he had some papers in the desk that could assist. He briskly walked over to the desk, his cane letting out soft sharp thuds against the wooden ground arriving at the desk. He opened the drawer and grabbed the papers without a thought rushing back to the lab even though it caused a thrumming pain in his leg. At the lab he slowly sat down in the wooden rolling chair he sifted through the papers reading each one carefully under the little lamp desk till he arrived at a letter confused. He read the first line and his heart dropped. It read your name and the words “ your surgery has been approved”. Viktor immediately stood upwards stumbling forgetting to grab his can but using the desk as support. He didn’t read past the first line but he knew what it meant or at least what he thought it meant. He grabbed his cane hurdling himself out of the lab barely remembering to lock it behind him he headed towards the apartment you both had called home, he knew at this time you’d be there. And he knew you, he knew that you would only get surgery that was essential to you which in his mind left only one possibility you were dying or could die without the surgery which broke his heart. Why would you keep something like that from him, especially knowing that once too he was a dying man. It also hurt him that it felt like you couldn’t rely upon him he would gladly pay for it then and one hundred times over after all hextech did make him and Jayce more wealthy and even then he could emotionally support you, be an anchor if you needed it. He wobbled up the uneven stairs and down the hall of the apartment building quickly unlocking the wooden oak door to your home while still having the letter in hand. Opening the door he saw you sitting on the couch curled up reading a book. He barged through the door slamming it behind him making you aware of his presence.

“ Hey Vik-“ You started to say before getting cut off by Viktor.

“ What is this?” He said sharply holding up the letter in his free hand giving it a slight shake angrily. Your eyes became as wide as saucers staring at the letter in his hand with fear as you bolted upwards your hands out in front of you ready to explain everything ready for your relationship to be over.

“ Look I can explain-“ You started once again before once again being cut off by the other male quite harshly.

“ How can you explain this?! How can you justify hiding this?!” Viktor responded bitterly, his tongue cutting sharp like knives.

“ I’m sorry I didn’t think it would ever get this far-“ You tried to say before Viktor interrupted.

“ You didn’t think it would get this far?! And what you're sorry you didn’t tell me you are dying!” He seethed out wrapped up in his emotions too wrapped up to notice the confused expression on your face.

“ I'm sorry, what?” You said dumbfounded and in utter confusion of his statement. Only saying this caused him to go on a rant about how could you not tell him and other statements along those lines. You went into your headspace trying to figure out what in the actual hell this conversation was about only to think about it more. Quickly you caught onto the fact that Viktor has always respected your privacy but a he must’ve accidentally come across the letter as it had been in the desk with some of his papers and had read it stopping after the first line for the sake of your privacy but also worry.

“ Viktor,” you started out sternly trying to make your voice as flat as possible. “ Viktor read the entire letter.”

Viktor just went silent his face still held bits of grief and anger but sure enough he looked down reading the letter his face remaining the same till you figured he came across the line “ the consultation before your chest masculinization subcutaneous mastectomy will be held on the date xx/xx/xxxx if you have any concerns or need to reschedule please respond back.” Viktors face softened with realization of your avoidance of being shirtless, or just naked in front of him for that matter yet unreadable as he finished the letter. He looked up at you. You thought you would be terrified and yet you felt relieved but you also felt grief mourning the relationship which you had thrived in wither away because of what you are.

“ I am sorry I lied to you, I'll pack my stuff and stay at the store.” You started remorsefully, your head hanging low, refusing to look at him chewing at your bottom lip in stress. The sound of his cane thumping across the floor matched your heartbeat and when he stopped in front of you the thumping stopped with both his cane and your heart. You almost jerked at the feeling of his strong thin hand that was placed on your shoulder waiting a second to see if you’d push his hand away from your shoulder to which you didn’t he stepped even closer sliding his arm around you holding you against his chest lightly to not scare you. While Viktor was touch starved it was often you who took charge grabbing his hand, pulling him into hugs and kisses all sorts of intimate moments but when he did take the lead it meant something it was his way of telling you that he loved you. And you could tell exactly what he was doing here embracing you gently enough where you could pull away at any moment if you so desired but hard enough where it anchored you there in that moment with him.

“ You never lied, and I am sorry my love I just worry for you.” The brunette male Sid squeezes you slightly for your comfort or maybe his own.

“ I am sorry I kept this from you but how can you still love me after knowing about this” you said wildly gesturing to your body still in VIktors embrace.

“ Because I love your entire being and this is a part of you so I love it as well.” VIktor stated warmly as if the sentiment was basic logic. But that’s exactly what you loved about Viktor is that to him his compassion, his love was just basic logic yet any other person would actually struggle to empathize and love at his level. And with the statement any of that shame that festered in you seeped out maybe not completely but you at least knew that you didn’t have to feel ashamed of it.

“ I love you so much Viktor.” You said squeezing you arms around him you could sense he flushed at the statemeant while he could say the sweetest phrases that mean ten times more than I love you to other people he himself could barely hear an “ I love you” without flushing and stammering.

“ And I you. And if you need me by your side I will be there.” He said squeezing you back the two of you standing there in the middle of your home just enjoying each other's embrace soaking in the love for one another.

#x male reader #Male reader #male reader insert #x ftm reader #ftm reader #viktor x male reader #Viktor x ftm reader #arcane x male reader #Arcane x ftm reader #x transmasc reader #x trans male reader #Trans #LiliumsAbyss<3

200 notes · View notes

steponmeinejghafa · 1 year

Text

Little Crow Pt.3

Summary: You’ve had an argument with Kaz after getting injured on a job. Later, after talking to one of the crows, you and Kaz fix things up. At two a.m. In the kitchen, over cookies.

Age: 12

Taglist: @winstonthecow22, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @trashmouthsahra, @myheartfollower

Warnings: Blood, injuries, arguments.

———

After a lot of persuasion, you’d managed to convince Kaz to let you go on jobs. Accompanied by a Crow, obviously. If he needed a stealth job, you were his second option after Inej.

But he was very protective. So, naturally, when he sent you on a job with Jesper, and you came back bloodied with a bullet wound in your shoulder, he was livid. Not only with you for being careless, but also with Jesper for being inattentive.

“What we’re you THINKING?!” Kaz exclaimed, standing in your tiny room as you sat on your bed, redressing your wound that night.

“What do you mean?” You asked, confused, pausing dabbing on some disinfectant.

“What I mean is that what we’re you thinking, going right in for a fight when I specifically told you not to?!” Exclaimed the man, leaning heavily on his cane, eyes fixed on you as you placed a new bandage on your shoulder.

“Saints, Papa, relax,” you sighed, “It’s just a bullet wound. It didn’t even touch the bone!”

“The rules are no fighting unless absolutely necessary, and no deviations from the plan without my consent,” he grumbled. “You disobeyed both.” Limping over, he set his cane down and pulled off his gloves, inhaling deeply as he helped with the bandage.

“Well, I didn’t DIE,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and looking to the side.

“You could have!” Kaz exclaimed, pausing his movements. “Are you serious right now, Y/n?”

“What?” You scowled. “It wasn’t even deep enough for stitches!”

“Luckily you got a surface wound,” snapped the man, finishing up.

“Okay, okay, next time I’ll be more careful,” you said, moving your shoulder a little to fix the mobility issue with the bandage. “Happy?”

“You won’t be careful next time because there will not be a next time,” said Kaz. “No more jobs for you.”

You gasped in shock and stood up, placing the first aid box on the bed as you exclaimed, “That’s not fair!”

“Oh yes it is,” he replied. “If you cannot follow my carefully planned instructions, then you cannot go on any job whatsoever.”

“That is so unfair!” You gasped. “This is my first blunder, that’s it!”

“A blunder which could’ve gotten you killed!”

“As you can see, I am very much alive!”

Kaz grumbled before saying firmly, “No more jobs. That’s final. I don’t want to hear any more arguments.” He placed some money down on your paper-strewn desk, before saying firmly but kindly, “Get yourself some dinner, then straight up to bed. No stargazing, no reading, no girl-talk with Nina.”

“Thank you,” you nodded at the money before glaring at him and adding in a mumble, “Unfair.”

He simply shook his head and limped out, brows furrowed to touching.

Moments later, Inej appeared in the room.

“I heard you arguing with Kaz,” she said, sitting on your bed.

“Yeah,” you sighed, leaning back. “I don’t get it, I was careful land I got a surface wound, yet he’s overreacting. He said I can’t do jobs anymore!”

“He’s just worried for you, little crow,” said Inej. “Shockingly enough, you matter to him more than any amount of money or blackmail material.”

“But I said I’d be careful!” You whined, laying your head on the Wraith’s lap.

“See, Kaz is protective over the people he loves. He’s scared he’ll lose you,” she explained, stroking your hair. “Come on, when have you ever seen Kaz Brekker take off his gloves for anyone?”

“I get Papa cares for me,” you sighed. “But—but banning me from doing something that’s so fun isn’t the solution! Come on, he even said no stargazing after dinner!”

“He’s doing what he thinks is best for you, to protect you, little crow,” replied the Suli. “Now sleep, and you guys will feel calmer in the morning, so talk it out then. Did you pray?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled.

“Good,” she smiled at you. “No chickening out tomorrow, training is at six a.m sharp, do not be late, and talk to Kaz before breakfast.”

You nodded and lay back on the mattress, pulling the thin coverlet up to your chin before slowly nodding off, vaguely aware of the small kiss Inej pressed to your head, before she walked out of the room.

You woke up in the middle of the night, your head hurting and stomach grumbling with hunger, so down you trudged to the kitchen, silently as possible, not making a freak in the floor or anything.

You lit a candle, reaching into the cabinet for milk and some cookies which you knew Kaz had cleverly hidden from you. Or, at least asked Nina to.

Opening the jar, you sat on the counter, milk glass in hand and sat hunched in the candlelight, eating chocolate chip cookies at two a.m.

You were too sleepy to notice Kaz coming down into the kitchen, looking equally exhausted, with drooping eyes and lazy posture.

“Little crow?” He mumbled, seeing you. “It’s two in the morning.”

“And I’m hungry, so there’s that.” You replied, taking your third cookie. Kaz put his cane down and sat on the chair in front of you, gesturing for a cookie.

“Look,” he said, sighing deeply as he accepted the cookie from you. “I got worried, okay? You mean…you mean more to me that what I work to gain.”

“Ah,” you said. “But—“

“I know what I did was extreme,” he interrupted. “But please don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen how much fun you have, being on jobs. However, if you don’t follow my instructions you could end up kidnapped, dead, or injured.”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” you mumbled.

“I know you are, little crow,” he replied. “But it’s okay. The job was done, you enjoyed yourself. Just…just be more careful next time.”

You nodded, “Yeah.”

“Come on, now. It’s late, you need to sleep,” he replied, standing up with a bit of difficulty.

“Right,” you sighed, placing the cookie jar in the cabinet, and putting your glass in the sink.

The next morning, after training, the others were happy to see that you and Kaz had patched things up. This always happened. You both would sleep on the problem, and then wake up fresh with the problem itself either forgotten, or talked about in the wee hours of morning.

Truthfully, you didn’t mind.

———

Hi! It’s me, Anne <3 I hope you enjoyed this post <3 please show it some love! Requests are open!

#shadow and bone #inej ghafa #fluff #crows x child!reader #Kaz brekker #Jesper fahey #Wylan Van Eck #Nina Zenik #cookies at 2 a.m

140 notes · View notes