#i swear one day i would have had enough and my composure would break and it will not end well for the both of us | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

90ekz · 5 months

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“WE AINT GOOD-GOOD, BUT WE STILL GOOD”

debrief: when your ex-boyfriend ony comes down with a cold, you clock into your nurse shift, as well as resolving some old feelings.

tags: black!fem!reader, sickfic but like.. not, use of the n word, make-ups and break-ups, you make ony nervoussss 🥹, implied eremin (i love them), pure fluff, healthy communication cs ik some of y’all be bashin niggas heads in

an: bringing in the new year with some fluff !! i love you guys, and may 2024 bring everything you desire in abundance <3

ex-boyfriend!ony who was so heartbroken when y’all split, but knew it was for the best. he didn’t wanna drag you down with all his mess, (even if you insisted over and over that you were okay) and you were busy trying to get your masters. even through this, close contact was kept, and y’all leaned on each other for support.

that’s why it was such a shock when connie and jean had let it slip that he’d been sick for 3 days. you sat on the notion, wondering why he didn’t come to you or even say anything, and waited for a call, but when none came after a few hours, you were dialing his number harshly into your phone and letting it ring with a scowl on your face.

“onyankopon.” you spit over the phone, hearing him sputter at the use of his full name. dull music played in the background, and you could swear you hear other voices, hushed.

“h-hey mama, what’s goin on?” ony refused to let his composure slip, all his boys were over and he had told them that he had stopped fuckin’ with you. they all opted to come over to chill (smoke) even while he was down with a real bad cold. he caved and took a few hits before deciding that his lungs weren’t strong enough right now, and passing the spliff to connie wordlessly.

“you got something you wanna tell me?” you sat patiently, giving him the opportunity to tell the truth before jumping to conclusions. maybe there was a reason for it, everything happens for a reason, right?

“uh…nah i been chillin—hold up.” your eyebrow jumped at his labored breathing mixed with the sound of him hushing someone in the background before pressing the phone back to his ear. “anyways. im good, nothing to tell you, im cool. you cool?” your suspicion grew at his constant throat clearing and groans.

“you a damn lie.” before he could even respond, you were hanging up the phone and two beep sounds rung in his head. he tried to call back twice before getting a notification that you’d left home and were on the pathway to his house. the drive was only about 10 minutes, and knowing you, you’d be here in 5.

“aw shit—all y’all gotta go.” ony stumbled to his feet, ushering connie, eren, armin, and jean out of their seated positions and towards the front door. “man i was just getting high, the fuck goin’ on?” eren mumbles lightly, placing his jacket around armin’s shoulders and finishing packing his bag.

“someone’s coming over, c’mon.”

“who bruh?”

“y/n nigga, i think she knows im sick. y’all gotta go, now.” the whole group erupts in protests of ‘i thought y’all were done’ and ‘don’t kick us out for that, man!’ but ony didn’t care. he hadn’t seen you in person for a while, and he still needed to cover his tracks. the whole group rolls their eyes, save for connie and jean, who looked like they’d seen a ghost.

“connie, jean, why y’all look like that? what did y’all do?”

“it was him!” jean points to connie, completely throwing him under the bus. connie almost protests until he sees the sour look on ony’s face, and they’re scattering out the door with ‘im sorry’s’ flaking from their lips, leaving armin and eren to snicker under their breath.

“you said you were done with her, why now?”

“as much as i would love to give you an in-depth synopsis on my relationship status, i really don’t have time for allat right now.”

eren rolls his eyes, his attitude shown clear on his face. he wasn’t the biggest fan of ony’s relationship with you, considering that he’s the one who has to hear all the bullshit between you two. armin intertwines his pinkies with eren, an easy soother to his irritation.

“if i have to hear about this shit later, i’ll kill you.”

with reluctance, the couple left—armin apologetically excusing eren’s rudeness—and ony was left to spray fabreeze for the weed smell, and splash cold water on his face to hopefully extinguish his up-ticking fever, just in time for your harsh knocks to come on the door.

ony opened it, albeit barely enough for you to see his flushed face. he was feeling real feverish now….

“you ain’t tell me you was coming over.”

“i don’t have to tell you. open this damn door and stop playin wit me.” ony gulps as he unlocks the chain on the door and sees you fully. all you had on was his hoodie that he was sure you said you were gonna give back, and some nike pro shorts that he couldn’t see. you held a bag of unknown contents in your hand. you eyed him up and down before stepping inside like you owned the place.

he loved when you did that shit, this man is down bad.

you twirled the string of his sweatpants between your freshly done nails, and ony swears his temperature went up 10 degrees. you had this look in your eye that was the epitome of concern and irritation having a fist fight.

“so when were you gonna tell me that you were sick?”

“i wasn’t. i didn’t want you to worry about it, but the opptastic duo just had let you know, i guess.” ony followed as you proceeded deeper in the house, but you paused as you entered the living room. your eyebrows furrowed and your nose crinkled.

“what’s that smell?”

ony gulped, just playing shrugging and playing dumb. the cloud of fabreeze hadn’t really covered the weed smell all the way, and he was sure that you were about to bust him for smoking while he was sick, and he really wasn’t tryna hear all that at the moment. he was ready to get in his bed (preferably with you in it..)

“do not play wit me, what is that japanese cherry blossom shit im smelling?” you threw your keys and bag down and paced around the living room, flipping over pillows and looking under couch cushions. ony protested, promising that he didn’t know what you were talking about, and thought to himself that you were just smelling yourself.

until you pulled an empty cart refill wrapper from beneath the cushion.

aw shit.

you looked at him like he was a dumbass—which he was—before watching him smack his teeth and snatch the wrapper from your hand begrudgingly. the words “CHERRY GLAZE” in bold lettering burned his eyes, before vaguely remembering that armin had switched out his liquid before he’d left.

ony teetered on the truth, but he knew you’d be pissed about him having his boys over when he was clearly sick, so he settled on a lil white lie.

“oh, that’s uh—that’s some of my old shit.”

“if i’m recalling correctly, aren’t you the one that said that you didn’t like smoking that ‘fruity shit’?” ony cleared his throat—in a way he only does when he lies—before just grunting in response.

“and even if you didn’t say that, you hate cherry flavored anything, so that begs the question… what bitch was smoking this shit on your couch?” you jabbed your freshly done pointer nail into his chest, feeling his breath stutter under your touch.

he was caught between a rock and a hard place, and figured he’d just tell you the truth, even if you’d get mad.

“basically, the boys came over and eren brought his lil boyfriend or whatever he is—”

“wait, eren’s gay?”

“apparently. anyways, his name is armpit… or was it arm and hammer… whatever sum like that, and he was smoking his cart and replaced the liquid on the couch and i guess the wrapper fell between the cushions. no bitches were over here, i swear.” ony holds his hands up in defense, reassuring you that he was telling the truth. you smiled, as you believed him regardless. you knew he didn’t roll like that anyway.

“bae, relax. i believe you, i was just tryna see you sweat. just sit down, i bought you some soup.” you smiled at him with all your teeth, and ony was sure that he fell in love all over again. he missed you more than words could explain, and he just wanted you to come home again.

he finally let himself relax and he slumped onto the couch, his headache hammering against the back of his eyes. you took a seat on the ottoman next to him, unpacking his favorite potato soup and crackers. you crush up the crackers in the soup and stir, just like he likes, and unscrew the cap of his blue fanta.

“i think—no, i’m already in love with you. i dont think i ever stopped.” ony mutters as you spoon feed him and he has the urge to cry. you were always so gentle and caring with him, and you’ve never stopped, regardless of what the relationship status was. that’s what he loved most about you—it didn’t matter what happened between you too, if he needed you, you were there.

he missed you so, so bad.

“stop talking with your mouth full, you’re gonna get soup on your new carpet.” you attempted to brush off his words, and the way that they were making your face heat up.

“fuck the carpet. i’ve never been so serious in my life, mama. i love you more than you know. ‘just want you to come back to me.”

you two broke up because you mutually needed space and time to yourselves. it was an agreement, yet neither of you committed to it for more than a week. before you knew it, you were back texting him good morning, as he was texting you good night. all you wanted was to be his girlfriend again, but you wanted to give him the space he needed.

you set the spoon and soup aside, watching the way ony’s deep brown eyes twinkle under the low light of the living room.

“ony, i want to give you your space, that’s the whole reason we broke up to begin with. you deserve that.”

“i had enough space. you not living here no more, not being up under me when i sleep, not kissing me when i wake up, only seeing you at parties, that’s space, and i’m real tired of it,” ony laces his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your knuckles as he used to do.

“i want you back. i want you back in my face all the time, i wanna wake up mad cause you took all the covers, but then it goes away when i see how cute you look all bundled up. i want my initials on your nails again, i want you. i need you, baby. come home to me, please—“

“okay, okay! that’s enough, you’re embarrassing me!” you hide your head in the crook of his neck, suddenly feeling bashful about the way he was relaying his apparent undying love to you. everything he does flusters you still. you don’t miss the way his hands grasp you even tighter than they used to, if that’s even possible.

“i just want you to promise me that i’m not hurting you.”

“you could never. my perfect girl would never.” ony places a kiss on the top of your head, making sure to hold you even tighter. you choose not to mention his sniffles at the current moment, and let yourself be lost in his love.

“i missed you too, ony.”

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cuubism · 7 months

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part 3 of hob encountering dream outside their meetings (except there are 4 total parts now, lol)

Something, Hob thinks, somewhere between his third and fourth glass of whiskey, is terribly wrong.

In another life, he thinks, he would have wandered home drunk, morose, aimless, bereft of his strange patron—Dream—and sure he’d screwed it up. If you come, we must be friends. Well, there’s your answer, Hob.

In this life…

Dream gave his word. And… he is so serious, he is so austere, Hob does not think he is the type to break a promise.

I hope you’re alright out there, he thinks as he gets home to his flat, drunk, but not as much as he really wants to be.

Where is he, anyway? Why wouldn’t he show?

Despair over the matter tries to swamp him, but Hob pushes it aside. Dream. He has his name. Maybe he can find him?

He had never tried in the years since their happenstance meeting during the war. Had wanted to, on and off, but had respected his friend’s wishes on the matter. He had a promise to meet again, after all. That was enough for now. They had eternity.

Tomorrow he can go to the library. Maybe he’ll be able to find something in all those books of history and mythology, if his stranger is a god, like to appear there.

It’s a chance.

For days Hob studies, and mulls, and finds very little. His friend’s name is too common a word to easily search, and likewise too obscure to find in any mythology texts. Hob makes little progress, but he thinks on him more and more. Dream is in his mind like a waking nightmare; Hob keeps going back to his little shy smile on their parting outside the cafe.

He wouldn’t just not show up. He wouldn’t.

And then, several weeks into this obsessive spiral, Hob dreams of him.

Hob is sitting across from his friend, the setting vague, dark, he can’t make it out. Dream is cross-legged in a meditative pose, a loose robe draped around him, and he looks… gaunt. Tired. Hob remembers looking like that himself, during the darker periods of his life, but he would never have expected Dream to break his marble composure.

“Hob,” he says, with some surprise. Blinks starry, dark eyes. “You have been thinking on me very intently, indeed.”

“Of course,” Hob says. Wants to reach out to him but senses, somehow, that it wouldn’t be possible. “Where—”

“Time is brief,” interrupts Dream. Hob is not certain he even heard Hob speak; perhaps whatever this is is a one-way transmission, a message. “My power is contained; this is but a spare moment of luck and coincidence. I owe you much for breaking my vow to you—”

You don’t, Hob thinks, you don’t—

“—But instead I must make a request. As… friends.” He speaks the word as something still unfamiliar and rare. “Find Alex Burgess. Find me. Anything you desire, if it is in my power, in return.”

What an absolutely bizarre way of asking for help. Then again, it is his old stranger speaking. Hob should expect no less.

What kind of mess has he gotten himself into that kept him away from their meeting? What kind of mess could such a being get into?

“I will,” Hob swears. “I will. I won’t leave you alone.”

His friend’s gaze bores into his, glittering like the night sky.

“Hob,” he says, voice resonant and echoing, “be cautious.”

Hob wakes, tacky with sweat, shivers running up his spine. Dream, he thinks, scrubbing a hand through the mess of his hair. Dreams. Fuck. Was it real? It must have been. Dreams.

In the manner of dreams, much of the detail is hazing out, leaving only the strange echo of his friend’s voice, his starry eyes, a name to find, and a warning:

Be cautious.

Yeah, fuck that.

Dream never asks for help, at least not from Hob, though Hob privately doubts he asks for it from anyone. He hardly even shares mundane details of his life. Whatever scrape he’s gotten into now, it must be monumentally terrible to push him to do so.

Hob won’t leave him there.

Alex Burgess, his friend had said. That’s not much, but it’s a start.

Hob had found nothing using Dream’s name, but once he has Alex Burgess’s, it’s shockingly easy. He puts the pieces together in less than a week, and finds himself stewing in anger as a result. How had nobody done anything? Granted, nobody knew who his friend was, but as far as he’s managed to gather, plenty of people had seen him over the years. Nobody had stepped up?

Maybe, deep down, Hob is truly just angry with himself. He should have done something. Somehow, someway. For fuck’s sake, Hob had seen his stranger in 1915, less than a year—if the rumors are to be believed—before he disappeared.

Shouldn’t he have known? Somehow? Some time before their scheduled meeting?

Nothing for it now. Nothing for it but to get him back.

For lack of very much ability to make a plan without blueprints or inside knowledge, Hob ends up throwing caution to the wind and simply breaking into the manor. Fuck those people. Hob has killed men before and he will again, and he doesn’t expect to feel sorry about it.

These are not innocent men, after all. And neither is Hob.

But he does heed Dream’s warning to some extent, only out of concern for Dream himself. Hob cannot afford to get knocked out or killed—temporary though it may be—when he has someone to rescue.

To that effect, he leashes his fury long enough to break into the Burgess manor via a side door, rather than simply breaking down the front door as he’d really like to; he holds his anger by the collar long enough to catch a passing guard around the throat and demand, in a terse whisper, where the door to the basement is, and then knock the guard out and shove him into a coat closet; he tempers his rage long enough to crack open the basement door with a key stolen from the guard’s belt, to creep down the stone steps, to step out into the cavernous room.

And then—

—it’s impossible for Hob to hold back his anger then.

But his instincts don’t let him slow long enough to taste it. Hob has not been a soldier for a long time, but the instincts—the instincts never disappear.

He knocks out one guard with the butt of his gun before the man can even grab his own weapon, then he levels it at the other, whose hands vacillate between surrender and fight.

“I would think very hard about what you’re about to do,” Hob growls, and clicks back the hammer on his revolver.

Apparently, whatever unbridled fury the guard sees in Hob’s eyes is more frightening than the punishment his employer will dish out. He raises his hands in surrender, dropping his gun.

Hob stalks over to him and, though the man raises a hand and shouts, “Wait!”, knocks him out cold as well.

He grits his teeth, forcibly loosening his grip on the gun, and then, only then, does he let himself turn properly to Dream.

And his heart fucking… breaks.

Hob’s old stranger has always been a regal person. No matter the era, no matter how grimy the White Horse was when they met, no matter on what street Hob ran into him—he has always carried himself like royalty.

He still does, now, but by God is Burgess trying to break him of it.

Dream sits cross-legged in the same meditative pose as in Hob’s dream, but this time he is unclothed. Hob doubts that he subscribes to the same strict notions of modesty as human society, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still a violation.

Worse still is the cage. Small, tight, exposed on all sides—his friend is such a private person, Hob hadn’t even gotten a name out of him for five hundred years. This is— this is—

It makes him so incredibly angry.

Dream stares at him with wide eyes. He looks from Hob to the downed guards and back, his muscles tense, spine still rigid. He looks… malnourished, and Hob wonders if it’s truly due to lack of food, or more to lack of freedom.

“Hob Gadling,” he finally murmurs, voice muffled through the glass. “You received my message. I was not certain I’d managed enough power to get it through. I had but a short dream in which to try.”

“Yes.” Hob strides across the room to him quickly, steps and voice echoing strangely in the crypt-like, musty cellar. “I heard you.”

“And you came.”

Hob huffs, crouching down by the glass cage, examining it for rivets or seals or anything that could be cracked open. “No need to sound so surprised.”

“You are angry,” says Dream, watching him intently, delicate hands balanced on delicate knees.

“Yeah, not at you, though.” Hob groans in frustration. “Any way to break this thing open other than shooting at it?”

“Break the circle.” He points to the ring of symbols on the floor. “And I will be able to help you.”

Hob drags the sole of his shoe viciously through the paint. It’s so gratifying to watch it scrape off. Dream shudders, eyes falling shut, and then goes taut, each muscle in relief. Strength comes back to him, power shimmers over his skin. Hob lays a hand on the glass and finds it humming at higher and higher frequency, like the air inside is vibrating, suffused with power it can’t contain.

He jumps back just in time.

The glass shatters into a thousand pieces with a high ringing sound and a flash of bright light. Hob covers his eyes.

When he opens them again, Dream is delicately climbing out of the metal frame of the sphere, his power returned, each step measured and controlled. He looks more otherworldly than Hob’s ever seen him, hair standing on end, his gaze sharp and predatory. But his eyes soften when they land on Hob.

Hob rushes over to offer his arm, and Dream grips it for balance as he picks his way through the glass. Once he’s on safer ground, Hob offers him his coat, and Dream wraps it around his bare shoulders, eyes sparkling with a tiny smile like he finds Hob’s attempts at chivalry amusing.

“Are you okay?” Hob asks, then shakes his head. “Stupid question. What do you need, my friend?”

“I am free,” says Dream. Under his usual stoicism there is a hint of awe. “You have done more than enough, Hob. I thank you.”

“At least let me help you get out of here,” Hob says. He’s still worried that Dream might be hurt, or weakened from his imprisonment, even if he’s standing on his own feet now. “Can get you something to eat, or…?”

Dream looks into the distance, as if seeing, or hearing something Hob can’t. “I’m afraid I have much to attend to. My realm calls me. I have been away a long time.”

Because he’s been imprisoned for a long time. Jesus Christ.

Hob doubts he’ll be able to convince Dream to stay, or rest or anything else. His friend is stubborn, and too proud for such things, he thinks. “Still. If you need help with anything…”

“I require my tools,” Dream says, and Hob straightens up. “But I would not task you with such a thing. They are no longer in this manor and I fear there may be danger involved in retrieving them.”

Hey, Hob thinks, with some indignation. I can handle some danger, thanks very much.

“But first, I have other business to attend to,” Dream continues. His eyes flick upward at the sleeping manor inhabitants on the floors above. “You will face no resistance in leaving.” He turns his gaze briefly to Hob, eyes softening in gratitude. “Fare well, Hob. I shall not forget this.”

Then he turns to go, darkness swirling around him.

“Wait!” Hob grabs his arm. Dream looks down at his hand, but doesn’t pull away. “Will you come back? I— I want to make sure you’re alright.”

Dream’s lips tip up in a half smile. “I will be alright once I have returned to my realm, and regathered my tools. But. Very well. I will come to see you, once I have finished that business. Thank you, Hob.”

And then he’s gone from under Hob’s hand, gone into the night, and Hob sighs, alone in the quiet basement. But really, he shouldn’t have expected anything else.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #fishbowl rescue #my writing

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irisintheafterglow · 2 months

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HAND THREE - TWO PAIR

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a date is had.

wc: 2.5k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, some swearing, banter and dialogue driven, fake dating, pining and tension, todoroki enji jumpscare LOL

note: the two wolves living inside me is one wanting to rush the hell out of slow burn and the other telling me to make it painfully slow. however, i broke a little and made the pining a little obvious in this chapter oops. one day i will achieve the emotional release of s2 bridgerton bee sting scene. hope you enjoy !!!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

“Show.”

“You first.”

“I’m royalty.”

“And I have the higher stack. Now, show,” you repeat and he scoffs, the corner of his mouth tugging upward and creasing the deep purple scars on his cheek. He turns his two cards face-up and, sure enough, you’d snatched another victory from the self-proclaimed Prince of Calculation. “I win again,” you smile and he begrudgingly pushes the pot to your side of the table, an amalgamation of garden pebbles, stray buttons, and a few gold coins you managed to produce. You were using whatever you had to gamble and the prince didn’t seem to mind. Touya, you remind yourself. You were supposed to call him by his first name throughout this whole charade, but it seemed as foreign on your tongue as a protruding third set of teeth.

“You’re a much more dangerous woman than you give yourself credit for,” he muses with a clever glint in his eyes. Over the course of the last month or so, you’d accumulated an immunity to his unwavering stares and scalding eyes; lately, it actually seemed you found a certain affinity for his intense nature, even when you were its only target. His sweetly poisonous words were the latest test to your composure. “If we dressed you as a man for the night, we could relieve an entire club of their purses before the clock strikes ten.” His pretty fingers dealt another two cards and you peeked at them from the bottom of your vision. Queen of hearts and two of clubs. Not the best hand.

“Hmm. How much of the pot would you use to bail me out for invading said club?” You lay out the first three cards, the flop, and flip the first over before betting a conservative amount. Four of diamonds.

“Who ever said anything about bail? I’d just sneak you out. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time,” he answers, calling your bet, and you can’t tell if he’s kidding. It was another piece you were still trying to solve of the puzzle that was the prince of the Todoroki family, how he joked so casually about breaking laws and dodging authority. The nonchalance of his recklessness made your stomach turn, sometimes, but you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or intrigue. You flip the second card of the flop. Two of hearts. A pair, if all else failed. You just had to hope he didn’t have anything either.

“For a royal, you seem to know a concerning amount about rule breaking. Do you have any intent to corrupt me?”

“By the end of our courtship, possibly.” Jack of diamonds. Not what you were hoping for as the third card, by any means. A flash of excitement lights up behind your opponent’s eyes, too purposeful to be genuine. You mentally added his poker tells to the never-ending list of things to figure out about him, right under the number of crimes he’s committed against the government. Tossing in a few medium-value flower petals, you’re unsurprised when he matches your bet again.

“Our courtship which, I’ll remind you, is causing quite the stir in the ton,” you point out while revealing the turn. Seven of hearts. You try not to let your disappointment in your current hand show on your face. The prince, you notice, looks like he’s trying a little too hard to contain his excitement. “You know, I suspect they might be rooting for us.”

“That’d be a new experience for me. Never received too much support in my endeavors before.” He places a high bet and you have no choice but to match it. If you were right about him lying, you would learn something new about his poker strategy; but, if you were wrong, you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the day. You flip the river and your heart stutters. Two of diamonds. You’re careful with your next bet, knowing that three of a kind wasn’t the best or worst hand you could create. The prince, however, pushes his entire hoard into the pot with a challenge in his eyes. He was trying to force you to fold.

You match the bet and reveal your hand.

Two pair versus three of a kind. The prince was bluffing, and you won again.

“At least this time, you’re not alone.” The admission is obvious but still catches both of you off-guard when you say it. You’re about to apologize for being too sentimental when that unreadable look passes over his face again, sudden as a lightning strike and gone just as quickly.

“I guess you’re right,” he murmurs, relinquishing the remaining pot of knick-knacks to you. “Though I will say, having my ass handed to me in a card game was not a part of my plan.”

“A woman with intellect is never part of a man’s plan, yet she prevails all the same,” you conclude and he hums in agreement, collecting the remaining cards and slotting them back into their box. A concerning thought occurs to you and you glance around the secluded palace courtyard with new-found suspicion. His eyes follow your own, watching you keenly in a way that was both comforting and unsettling.

“What is it?”

“Will the servants not whisper about a woman playing a man’s game?”

“They will whisper that you won, and that is what matters,” he states like a well-known fact. “Why? Is something bothering you about them?”

“No, I’m just mulling over this whole arrangement again.” You wave him off dismissively and take another sip of lemonade from your teacup. A drink which, when you’d finally agreed to meet the prince at the palace for a day, he ordered presumably because you both shared a distaste for tea. “How odd it is and how people gossip so.”

“A lady beating the prince at poker is hardly a scandal compared to what transpired last week,” he recalls with terribly-hidden amusement, breaking off a piece of scone and smearing a glob of berry preserves onto it. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Your cheeks heat when you think of the memory and you snap your fan open to cool yourself and hide your burning face. It certainly wasn’t your proudest moment, to say the least.

“Would you like me to retrieve a stick to keep your competition at bay?” You had jokingly asked, following his distracted gaze. It was your third ball of the season and your third public appearance with the prince; both you and your co-conspirator were forced to acknowledge the increasing number of interested suitors trying to pry you away. Dances, you found, were one of the few moments where other men weren’t climbing over each other for your attention. The only problem was being forced to share breathing space with him for an extended period of time. “Your Highness, why are you glaring like that?”

“I said to stop calling me that, and I’m not glaring,” he mumbled, very obviously glaring and avoiding your eyes. His hand stiffens around your waist, making your already-awkward distance from him more uncomfortable. It didn’t take long to notice that he was a fine dancer when he was with any other partner but you, and you figured it was because being in such close proximity was not part of your agreement. You raise a skeptical eyebrow, finally making him look at you when the silence indicates your displeasure. “Pay me no mind. I am only–”

“Moping like a kicked dog, that’s what you’re doing,” you interject and, in a blink, you’re back in another standoff with his intense stare.

“I don’t recall when you gained the right to comment on my behaviors so crassly.” Your eyebrows pinch, taken aback by his sudden hostility. His eyes were always burning, like embers in a fireplace, and it felt like the longer you looked at them, the less likely you’d be able to pull away. After a few moments of staring him down, you back off with a frustrated huff. You think you feel some of the tension leave him, too.

“If we are to keep up this ruse in a believable manner, I suggest you confide in me from time to time, especially if it causes you to act in unfavorable ways,” you state simply, your irritation obvious.

“You know nothing of my unfavorable ways.” The venom in his voice makes your heart sink, against your own judgment. His expression doesn’t soften, but his voice does. “Trust me. It’s not your burden to bear,” he says in a low tone and goosebumps spread across your arms, despite the fabric of your gloves and the sleeves of your dress. He meets your eyes and you could have sworn his gaze flickers to the neckline of your gown, but the action, like so many of his movements, is too quick to comment on. “So, let’s keep to our sides of the street, shall we?”

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss, letting your politely smiling face slip as the strings conclude the dance. “Enjoy the rest of the evening. I feel a bit faint.” The muscles in his jaw clenches and you turn on your heel to beeline for an exit when a strong hand grabs you by the wrist and pulls you backward. Before you can register where you’re moving, your hand is placed firmly on his forearm and you’re a split-second from slapping him when–

“Touya.” Shit. With a blank mind, you remember to curtsy from pure muscle memory, dipping deeply toward the ground while the prince bends at the waist.

“Good evening, Father.” Touya’s voice becomes empty, devoid of all sarcasm, teasing, and charm. A glance at his face tells the same tale, blank and emotionless. The only indication of his true thoughts came the slight shake in his arm and how he unconsciously tugged you closer and closer to his side. You let yourself be pulled in and your free hand moved on its own, coming to rest on top of his and running your thumb over his knuckles. He exhales shakily. “Father, this is–”

“I know who you are,” he says before you could be properly introduced, making your nostrils flare. The man besides you bristles and you wonder how such a hard-faced, stoic man could make such a reckless and carefree son. You’d never seen King Todoroki except in victory parades and newsprints of his alliance with King All Might, but you could recognize the family’s flaming eyes from miles away. You decided that, no matter how irritating the prince was, his father was lower on your ranking of the Todoroki royals. “Should you marry, are you aware of the responsibility of being the wife of a king?”

“I believe she is called a queen, Your Majesty,” you hear yourself say before you can stop yourself. From beside you, the prince makes a noise somewhere between a choke and a snort, and you direct your attention to the floorboards in hopes of surviving the king’s scathing reply. Despite the chatter of the party around you, it feels like your words were echoing off the gilded ceilings. The reprimand, however, never comes. The king turns back to his son with a look of suppressed wrath before turning and stalking away, a crowd of nobles crowing for his attention.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he whispers in disbelief as he hurriedly guides you out of the hall and into one of the manor’s gardens, still within sight of nosy mothers but out of their earshot. Your hand hasn’t left his arm, nor has he tried to pry it off. If anything, you click into his side like a missing puzzle piece, and you’re confusingly reluctant to let go. “That was the worst possible way you could have answered that question,” the prince continues and your stomach turns.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” you reply with poorly masked shame, lowering your head and letting him walk ahead. Your hand detaches from his arm and you’re struck by the sudden lack of warmth. He turns sharply to look at you, looks back at his empty arm, and then back at you before closing the few feet between you. His eyes were burning into you again but he said nothing, watching you watch the blades of grass surrounding your shoes. Your voice is as quiet as the swaying summer wind. “If I have jeopardized our plan, I understand if you–”

“Stop,” he commands, and it takes a moment to register his gloved fingers under your chin, gently but firmly tilting your head to look at him. Your eyes trace the jagged lines of where his skin meets his scars and the world around you quiets. “I am…the opposite of angry with your actions.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not an easy task, talking back to my father. Yet, you performed it as easily as breathing,” he explains with a soft awe in his expression that made your breath catch in your chest.

“I guess I’ve had good practice, countering your arguments for the better half of the summer,” you agree hesitantly. What the hell was this feeling? For whatever reason, the world around you temporarily faded to static noise and blurred paintings, with the only decipherable images being the man in front of you. “So, you’re not unhappy with my behavior around your father?”

“I have never been prouder to be seen with you,” he reassures you and you finally crack a smile, his hand leaving your face and his feet stepping back to a respectful distance. “On another note, can you recall what we were arguing about before we were interrupted?”

“I can’t, unfortunately. I believe I was about to leave you alone on the dance floor to mingle with other suitors,” you joke and, though his expression remains relaxed, his eyes darken subtly.

“I wouldn’t let them so much as breathe in your direction,” he declares, your breath becoming stuck in your lungs again. “Plus, you were saying that you required a stick to fight them off.”

“I did not say I required a stick,” you counter, lightheartedly bumping your shoulder against his while you make your way back into the manor. He merely smiles, a rare, genuine smile. “Though, I would like to apologize for my brash observations.”

“You are forgiven.”

“Thank you,” you exhale, following him to the refreshments table.

“And…”

“Nevermind,” you backtrack, but he continues nonetheless.

“As reparation for insinuating that I act like an abused animal–”

“Which you do,” you retort quietly and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Next week, you will accompany me in receiving a visiting ally prince,” he says. “As it would be dreadfully boring to do alone and you, thankfully, bruised my ego, I will be dragging you with me on his guided tour of the kingdom’s market district.”

“Must I really attend?”

“Who’s acting like the kicked dog now?” He smirks and you have no choice but to go along with his plan. Now, after several rounds of beating his royal ass in poker, it was time for you to leave and prepare for the social night between the Takami and Todoroki kingdoms.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #touya x you #touya x reader #touya x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n

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mlmxreader · 5 months

Text

Brat Tamer | John Price x gn!reader (🍋)

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Hello there, can I request the prompt “Just stay still for five minutes” with price please? Thank you very much :) ❞

: ̗̀➛ Act like a brat, get treated like a brat.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, Dom/Sub dynamics, Daddy kink, spanking, anal sex, anal fingering, marking/possession kink, praise kink

↳ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Price groaned softly as he held you down, one hand on the back of your neck and the other at your ass; he had two fingers inside, his ring finger and middle fingers stretching you out as you pushed back against him and begged for him to go deeper, harder, faster.

He grinned, admiring your ass and how tight it was around the digits as he resisted the urge to leave a firm smack to your cheek; thankful that he was ambidextrous as he gripped your right cheek firmly before delivering a hard smash and tutting under his breath.

He loved how you begged for him to do it again, loved how your voice was hoarse and so close to being little more than a needy whisper; it served you right, in all honesty.

Distracting him from his job and making him lose his place amongst the field reports that he had due for a week from now. All day, you had been acting up and acting like a brat, and he had just about had enough of it; you begged for him to fuck you, but he wasn’t about to let you off so easily.

You weren’t allowed to cum, not yet, not until he said you could. You weren’t allowed to do anything he didn’t order you to, and although it was painful to force yourself to keep enough composure to obey him, you knew it would all be worthwhile.

It always was.

You reminded yourself of what to do when you weren’t comfortable - the safe word was always the same, it was always “Hurricane”, after his favourite type of aeroplane from world war two.

If you couldn’t speak, you had to hit the bed three times with your right hand, or smack his left shoulder three times. Depending on which you could reach.

“You’re so tight,” he breathed out, but when you squirmed against him to try and fuck yourself on his fingers, he smacked your harsh harshly. “Just stay still for five minutes, I’m not fucking done.”

You whimpered, pouting at you felt the same old ache you usually did when he didn’t give you what you wanted. “Daddy, please…”

“Oh, so now you wanna be good?” Price breathed out, tilting his head to the side as he ceased all movement. “Do you have any fucking idea what you did today? Making me lose my place in all those papers… I shouldn’t even be fingering you right now, let alone fucking you.”

“Please…” you pleaded, voice breaking as if you were about to break out sobbing any second. “Please, I’ll be good, I promise. Please.”

Withdrawing his fingers from your ass, Price huffed as he sat with his back against the headboard, giving his thigh a firm tap as he ordered you to ride him; you did your best not to grin, lining yourself up before slowly sinking down on his cock.

You shuddered, your ass feeling so full as you let him bottom out; you clenched around him, whimpering softly as you put your hands on his shoulders.

“Come on, then,” he demanded. “Be good and fuck yourself until you cum.”

You nodded, biting down on the inside of your cheek so you didn’t grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

Price grabbed your hips as you started to rock back and forth, pushing your chest out a little as you arched your back to get a better angle; you were a little surprised when he forced you to pick up the pace, rutting into you as quickly as he could, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room as he put his hands on your ass and spread your cheeks.

Groaning softly when you moaned for him to go harder, deeper, faster. Fuck. If there was anything Price couldn’t deny, it was you. You felt like you were made for him, like you were all he would ever want.

He was thankful that an old friend of his - Elias - had introduced him to his son - Hesh - as it meant that Price met you; you were Hesh’s best friend, and Elias was an old friend of Price’s, so it was natural that the two of you would meet at some point.

But now, Price was more thankful than ever; three years together, and Price could never be more thankful than he was at that moment. Buried inside you as he fucked you until you grabbed the headboard and lifted yourself up slightly, trying desperately to keep up with his pace but hardly able to.

The sound of your soft moans and how you were so eager to please him at every and any opportunity, how you needed and begged for him even though you were hoarse and breathless. Price adored you, every fucking inch of you.

Fuck. Sometimes he wondered how he ever felt satisfaction without you.

You ground down against him, matching his pace as you moaned and whimpered, and Price smiled as he licked his lips, kissing and sucking on your neck for a moment before he bit down properly, leaving his mark on you for everyone to see within the next few hours.

Fuck.

He loved it when you proudly showed off the marks around base, especially when he caught the others checking you out; a smug grin on his lips as he smoked a cigar and looked at you knowingly.

It was fucking brilliant, if he was ever concerned. Price loved to mark you up, loved to show off the fact that you were all his and he was all yours, that he was devoted to you and lived to serve.

He loved it when he caught his men checking you out when you were working out, all sweaty and panting heavily, your clothes sticking to you and showing every inch that Price loved so much; knowing that they wouldn’t be caught touching, but still nearly breaking their necks when you walked past.

Fuck.

Price toyed with the idea a few times, fucking you over his desk or letting you suck him off under it, and hoping to get caught by just about anyone; just so they would see how you belonged to one another, and he could show off.

Just for you. Price would always show off just for you. No one made him nearly half as weak as you did.

But neither of you were going to last long, you could feel it bubbling in your stomach as your toes curled and your stomach started to pull into knots; your tongue fell from your mouth, drool seeping from it as you panted heavily as let him fuck you harder and deeper.

Crying out as your legs shook and you stalled completely; freezing up as you felt yourself spill onto him. Price grinned, collecting some of your cum on his fingers and bringing them to your mouth; he closed his eyes as you sucked his fingers, running your tongue over the tips flatly.

Fuck. He couldn’t stop himself, grunting and groaning as he paused and shot his load into you.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he grumbled harshly, giving your ass a firm smack. “You’re gonna take every drop, do you understand?”

“Need it,” you whimpered in response, nodding. “Please, need your cum inside me. All of it.”

“Good,” Price praised, a little softer as he gently ran his hand down your ass. “Stay fucking still.”

You nodded, trying not to push back against him and squeal as he fucked his cum into your ass as much as he could; a little bit dripped out and onto his sack, but he soon enough scooped it up on his fingers and made you suck them clean again.

Fuck, you were so brilliant. He pulled out just as you were on the brink of cumming again, laughing smugly as he patted your ass and kissed you sweetly.

“You’re in my good books again,” he murmured between gentle kisses. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

You shook your head, just about able to keep yourself upright as you swallowed thickly and tried to catch your breath. “Not at all… do you want a hand with those papers?”

Price shook his head as he smiled, kissing your jaw softly. “You’re alright. You spent all night awake last night, so… just rest, yeah? Have a bum day today.”

You nodded, kissing him softly. “I love you.”

He hummed as he gently grabbed your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. “I love you, too.”

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beanibon · 1 year

Note

I've been reading your publications lately! I love them all!

And I read your time list, I saw that you write about kaisen jujutsu too, but then I thought, wow, a crossover between kaisen jujutsu and Trigun would be cool.

ANDSo, you could write a reader that could possibly be gojo's sister and accidentally during a battle against a curse, the reader stops in norman's land, Since it would be cool to see the reaction of Vash, Knives and Nicholas with the reader who is a Jujutsu sorcerer

Ooooooh! Absolutely, I haven't watched JJK in a hot minute and I need to rewatch for the newest season so if some of my terminology is a bit wonky I do apologise in advance.

Warnings: Not any really, maybe some blood warning in Knives part cause he's Knives. And maybe an asshole warning for Knives too.

Context: reader has a curse that allows her to bring certain fake replicas from other dimensions through, but a failed domain expansion ends them in the middle of an unknown dimension. Reader is Gojo's sister :3

Jujustu Kaisen Reader Isekai

You had convinced Gojo you could handle a Grade 1 curse by yourself, finally happy to break free from his overbearing mission babysitting. Yet your childish older brother made you pinky swear to call the moment things went belly up, but you couldn't hate the way he just wanted you to be safe. Even though it did piss you off at times.

Yet what you haven't expected was the Special Grade curse awaiting you, no Grade 1 in sight as this flailing creature of limbs and teeth gnashed its horrendous form towards you. It had you startled as you struggled against the power of the curse, yet it left no opening to call for any kind of help.

Once you managed the call, Gojo picking up instantly, you had no time to talk as excruciating pain exploded on the side of your body. That's what triggered it, the domain expansion that swallowed you and that wretched curse, worlds flashing by you as this thing screeched trying to reach you.

When the sky opened, sun bright and burning hot did the Curse flee as you descended into the sandy desert below.

You can imagine Vash's shock when you collided into him from out of nowhere, falling from the sky as crushed him under your unexpected weight.

This poor man confused, now in pain and groaning as he struggled to sit up only to realise that some oddly dressed woman faceplanted comically into his chest. What was more confusing was he was in the middle of nowhere, so your appearance was even more bizarre.

Vash was very patient the moment you gained your composure, panicking at the unfamiliar terrain, the unfamiliar man who was probably sprouting a face sized bruise on his chest.

He was very confused once you calmed enough to explain who you were and how you theorised you came here, not understanding what curses were, or domain expansions or anything that you said. Vash simply just smiled and nodded, though you knew this equivalent of a golden retriever had no clue what you were saying.

It had been a few months now since falling into the arms of your blonde companion, following Vash in his journey of constant misfortune. Every chance you got, if Vash's ridiculous bounty didn't have you scrambling away from raining bullets, you attempted to return to your home. But no matter how hard you tried it seemed as if your domain expansion just didn't want to cooperate, fizzling into existence only to dimish seconds later.

After what felt like the millionth attempt, you screamed, picking up Vash's neglected glasses and ditching them a fair way into the sandy wasteland. A sigh was heard behind you, before Vash went after his glasses, a half eaten can of stew on his hands.

For nights Vash witnessed your desperate attempts, angry tears and homesickness, he felt helpless at not being able to help. He wanted to be able to tell you that one day it'll work, but he didn't understand what these techniques of magic were, instead watching as you gave up more and more.

Brushing the sand of his signature yellow tinted lenses, the Humanoid Typhoon made his way back, stopping in front your angry, hunched over form. He crouched down, offering you an encouraging smile, flinching out at the handful of sand thrown in his face.

"What was that for?" He whined, rubbing sand from his eyes.

"I hate that you're always happy, it pisses me off! How are you so positive?" You groaned, turning away from his returning smile. At times the blonde reminded you of your older brother, Gojo Satoru, except you were thankful Gojo couldn't wield a gun for shit.

Vash shrugged, sitting back down comfortably. "I don't know, guess it just comes naturally. If it helps, I have a pretty amazing partner right now, despite how she always wants to leave my side." You knew his words were light-hearted, Vash was your biggest supporter and he did everything to make sure you could return to Tokyo.

Hands held yours, one metallic and cold, the other soft and warm. Vash pressed his glasses onto your nose gently, ruffling your hair as he stood and walked back to his abandoned meal.

Tears welled in your eyes, those stupid glasses identical to your only remaining family. And that simple action? It was exactly what Gojo did when you were frustrated, forever the best brother despite his ridiculous antics.

"Here," a half full canteen of water and warmed can of soup were held out to you, Vash's smile widening as you took them. "You'll get it eventually, but you can't do anything on an empty stomach, eat up."

A faint smile graced your lips, thanking Vash quietly as you took your share, growing use to the taste of provisions at this point.

And Vash was right, you will return home, even if was sad to leave someone as amazing as Vash behind.

Wolfwood couldn't compute the strange looking worm fleeing the scene, hideous screeches echoing across the desert plain as your form collided with the ground in a plume of course, hot sand.

Yet despite your clingy ass, he let you trail behind him like a lost puppy. Answering whatever questions with teasing falsehoods, which you believed at first... until you found out he was full of shit.

Bleeding and coughing blood, Wolfwood was tempted to just leave you to die, but something warned him against it. So that's how he became stuck with your annoying ass, wailing nonsense the moment you woke in that hospital bed. It gave Nicholas a headache.

For months you trailed behind the cross-bearing Undertaker, finding odd comfort in the way he shielded you from outlaws, throwing you out the way of gunfire.

"You do not have worms the size of skyscrapers!" You accused, glaring at the back of Wolfwood's skull as his shoulders shook in laughter. You were tired of his stories, lying to you constantly.

"I ain't lying sweetheart, we got some big ol' bugs in this world, hope you aren't queezy around them." He barked out a mocking laugh, looking back at you with that infuriating smirk of his, always paired with a crumpled cigarette.

You scoffed, arms folded over your chest as kicked sand towards him, cursing at it filled your uniforms boots. There was no point emptying it out now, it'd just make it worse. It made you wonder how Wolfwood could traverse No Man's Land in those tattered Vans.

"You're so full of shit."

Just then an sound akin to an explosion shook the ground, you instinctively leapt forward and clung to Wolfwood's arm. Sand showered down onto you two, the gigantic creature roaring as it buried itself back into the sand, disappearing.

Your body shook, eyes wide as you stared at the now soft quick sand, unaware of Nicholas's unbothered form smirking at how you latched onto him.

"What the fuck was that?"

"A worm," Wolfwood chuckled as you realised your position, releasing him instantly. "Believe me now?"

You hated to admit he was right, even after telling the truth for the first time. "So you told me the truth once, that doesn't make up for the fact you had me believing giant emu like birds are your desert horses."

Nicholas said nothing, but that damn smirk widened a centimetre and you began doubting it was false.

"You're fucking joking! Have you been telling the truth this entire time!?" Nicholas snorted, lighting another cigarette as he began walking again, leaving you to run after him.

Knives was in the middle of kidnapping a plant, when the sky opened revealing a woman desperately fighting off a hideous, snarling creature. The sight intrigued him, never before seeing that kind of worm before nor a human attempting to fend it off.

Watching boredly as your form fell, landing a distance in front of him. He was heading that way anyways, so he'd be able to assess your worth then.

When you released some kind of energy, the ball exploding against the strange worm, rendering it to a sizzling pile of flesh, Knives lips pulled into a cruel grin.

The man ignored your warnings, finding your pathetic attempts to thwart to his mission's destination infuriating. But when you persisted, begging him to turn back, that's when something sharp flew your way, finding enough strength to dodge it.

Your eyes were wide at the bladed tendril, panicked at the idea of another Special Grade Curse meeting you in this odd plain. Before you could even begin to make sense of what just happened, an ear-piercing shriek sounded from behind.

That hideous mass of limbs and teeth had finally caught up, drool dribbling down its mouths, causing the teeth to glisten at its hunger. You couldn't put up a barrier in time, body strained from the original battle and the energy it took to conjure a domain expansion. All you could do was throw weak curse techniques its way, like before to slow it down so you could flee.

Yet before you could even speak the technique, thousands of those bladed vines lashed out towards the Special Grade. Shock froze you in place, watching as blood splattered everywhere as the curse dissolved into a darkened dissipating mist.

Scared eyes turned to what you could only describe as a stronger Special Grade, fear causing you to shuffle away from the approaching Humanoid Curse.

"What are you?" His voice was angelic, full of intrigue as he towered over you.

"You should know what I am," You shrunk under his gaze, not oblivious to an inhuman power resignating from this curse. "I'm a Jujutsu Sorcerer."

"You speak as if I'm suppose to know what that is?" Those tendrils returned, flicking the blood from their reflective surface as they retreated into his spine.

"Aren't you a curse?"

"A curse?" The man scoffed out a laugh, eyes turning cruel as he leaned dangerously close. "I am a god, here to rid this planet of the plague you humans bring."

Those words sent shivers up your spine, but his words reminded you of Gojo's mocking tales of the King of Curses: Sukuna. Perhaps this man lived on his agenda, fulfilling Sukuna's orders.

"But that's not why I decided to save your pathetic, mortal life," You hadn't realised this man was still speaking, blinking up at the handsome face, free of his cloak. "I saved you because I wish for you to join me, to use this power of yours to serve me and free my brethren."

Startled as you scrambled to your feet, taking several steps back from this scarily handsome curse, hands held out as if it'd stop his advances. As he continued to approach, grinning wickedly at your fear as you fell backwards, landing on your backside. As this thing kneeled before you, features filled with amusement, you groaned.

"I appreciate the generous offer, but I need to go home Mr Curse, so I'm gonna have to pass on the destruction of humanity." A brow was quirked your way, mocking laughter filling the empty expanse of sand.

"I wasn't asking," Those same bladed tendrils wrapped around your squirming body, hoisting you high into the air as he continued his path, deafening your shrieks and pleas.

"You may refer to me as Millions Knives, your new god."

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

A/N: Hope you enjoyed your request Clouduru-Chan! I actually had so much fun writing this, especially Knives part, that may just be cause I'm the biggest Knives simp.

Love you heaps! 💜💜

#trigun stampede #trigun #vash the stampede #vash #vash x reader #trigun x reader #millions knives #vash the stampede x reader #vash x you #nicolas d wolfwood #wolfwood x reader #trigun wolfwood #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x you #millions knives x reader #knives millions #knives x reader #million knives x reader

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 1 year

Text

Wildest dreams, pt. 23

Summary: It’s time for the truth to come out.

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing, talking about death

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

————————————

Paul didn't know the moment it all went too far until he found his imprint had distanced herself from him.

Despite her initial ultimatum regarding his carefully guarded secret, Y/N remained cordial with him. They'd tell each other about their day, eat their meals in silence and fall asleep in the same bed.

For a while, Paul would find her awake beside him when he'd break free from the nightmare, her worried eyes resting upon him while her lips pressed in a thin line. She didn't say much whenever it happened, simply allowing him to seek comfort in her embrace. She doesn't let him touch her in the day, but she initiated each hug in the night.

It made Paul feel more guilty because he didn't tell her he lost control and shifted nor of what Jacob had informed the pack about. Truth be told, he's trying to find a way to prevent Jacob's plans or to delay them long enough for him to patch things up with Y/N and leave La Push.

Jacob decided otherwise.

"He's coming back", Y/N breathes out, her hand over her heart. Looking at Paul, her lips form a smile - the first real smile Paul had seen in a week. "Jacob's coming home!"

Swallowing thickly, Paul sits down. He can't explain it, not to himself and certainly not to Y/N but his mind has not been his own since the morning he woke to the news of Jacob's return. Something inside him insisted it would bring about dangers Paul cannot defend against and in his heart, he knew it could be the reason for Y/N's demise.

"I know he's not your favorite person, but at least have the decency to pretend you're happy about it", Y/N remarks before leaving the kitchen. Soon after, the front door slammed shut and Paul's focus shifted to Jacob's audacity.

He ignored Paul's explicit request and contacted Y/N without a warning.

"I have to protect them", Jacob sighs. "I know the consequences it may carry for the pack, but the Volturi have left us little say in this."

"You have no fucking clue what the consequences are." Paul pinches the bridge of his nose as he prays his phone won't be rendered on a useless pile of plastic by the end of this conversation. "The nightmares are back and they're more violent and vivid than before."

"And you blame me?" Jacob scoffs. "I'll protect Y/N till my dying breath but don't pretend my coming here will be the reason she dies. You not telling her is putting her in more danger."

"I don't want her to lose sleep over this."

"If we can't stop it, she'll have time to put her affairs in order." Jacob pauses. "To say goodbye. I know her, Paul. She would want to know no matter how it'll make her feel."

"She's my imprint", Paul warns.

"She's my best friend", Jacob reminds him. "And if you don't tell her, I will."

"If you do, I won't be held responsible for the things I do."

"I'm sure Y/N would love that."

Paul knows this isn't sustainable, that the truth must come out but how can he sit her down and tell her he believes she will die? How can he explain that he, the one meant to keep her safe, is no longer certain he can?

Running a hand through his hair, he let out a heavy sigh before grabbing an axe and heading to the shed. Chopping up wood will give his anxiety and frustration a release.

Well, he has to try. Otherwise, he'll drive himself insane until it's time to pick Y/N up from work. It will offer him a chance to talk to her, to pour some water on the fire he started.

Unlike Paul, Y/N wasn't angry. She wanted to breathe fire, to go feral and demand truth. Somehow, she found the composure to handle it with patience. Whatever it is, he'll have to come to her, to trust she can handle whatever he has done that weighs on his conscience so heavily.

When she walked out of work, she was surprised to see Paul leaning against her car. Often, Paul worked longer hours than her, so whether she liked it or not, Y/N had to get comfortable enough to drive herself. She drove her dad's car ever since he retired, enjoying her alone time on the drive back home.

She reluctantly walks towards the car and gets in, trying to mask how upset she is. The last thing she needs after a stressful day at work is more arguing and she didn't know what to say or do to stop it from happening again.

So, once Paul got in the passenger's seat, Y/N remained quiet, her eyes focused up ahead.

"Hi", he breaks the ice.

"Hey", she replies curtly. The awkward silence that follows left them both unsure what to say next. Y/N began to drive, hoping Paul will not push her buttons.

Sighing, he taps his thigh, "So, how was work today?"

"It was fine."

Swallowing thickly, Paul could feel beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry things have been difficult between us lately. I just want to find a way to make it better."

Y/N sighs, "Okay."

"Do you want to grab some dinner? We could go to that Italian place you like."

"No, I don't really feel like it."

Tapping his fingers on his leg, Paul nods. "Well, do you want to listen to some music or something?"

"Not really."

"Alright."

Driving down a busy street in Forks, Y/N can feel the tension in the car, it's palpable. He is trying, but it's not working and how can it when he'll wake up screaming tonight and she will be more frustrated with him than ever?

"Y/N, can you pull over for a minute?"

Frowning, she glances at him. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I am asking you to pull over and let me drive", he insists.

"I hardly think it's safe for you to drive when you're clearly upset." Y/N tries.

"Fuck, do you think I'd be stupid enough to drive if I wasn't sure you'd be safe?!"

Y/N pulls the car over to the side of the road.

"Wanna drive so bad? Be my guest!" Y/N huffs.

She switches seats with Paul. He gets behind the wheel, adjusting the seat and mirrors.

Paul starts the car, his jaw clenched. The same thing he loves about Y/N often plays with his nerves. The stubbornness she walks through life with is a wall he has to pass head first in every single argument and being so sleep deprived isn't helping his frustrations. Snapping at her isn't what he planned on today, he just wanted one moment for them to breathe and feel normal before he drops the truth bomb.

Parking at the beach, he exhales loudly.

"Why are we at the beach?"

"Because I'm asking you to please take a walk with me." Turning to her, Paul licks his lips. "We don't have to talk or anything. Just take a walk with me by the beach at sunset." He needed to pretend his world isn't going to explode soon. He needed her to understand his plea and listen, to let go of her headstrong ideas and give him an inch, just for one day.

Pressing her lips in a thin line, she swallows thickly. Surely it won't hurt to give him this one short walk? She isn't surrendering, nor is she sacrificing her peace of mind...if anything she's protecting it...by protecting him.

The sun had begun to set, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange as Paul and Y/N strolled along the beach. The sound of waves crashing against the shore fills the air, and the gentle breeze carries the scent of salt and seaweed.

Y/N wishes she could feel the peacefulness the beach usually evokes, but her heart is restless. There are too many unanswered questions lingering between them and had they no impact on Paul's well-being, Y/N would have let them go. But he's tormented and she can't ignore the detrimental effects on his mental health.

As they walk, Paul reaches out and takes Y/N's hand in his. For a moment, she considers pulling away, but as their fingers intertwine, a jolt of electricity runs through her, and she can't help but smile. His presence still awakens butterflies in her stomach, his touch undeniably makes her weak in her knees. It's not their imprint bond, this is Paul and his warmth and his love that reaches into the deepest parts of her soul and turns on the light where darkness claimed sanctuary.

They continue to walk in silence, not making eye contact. Paul is happy enough that she allows him to hold her hand, to just be near her in this moment.

As they reach the end of the beach, Paul stops and turns to face Y/N. He looks into her eyes, drawing a deep breath. In those brown eyes, he sees that passion and desire set aflame as her gaze lingers on him, but he also sees an unquestionable hunger for life and all that it has to offer. Those eyes are warmth, a reflection of all the love and affection that she holds for him. Most of all, her brown eyes are a window into the tenderness of her heart, a place where love and trust were born and nurtured for years before he broke it.

Looking at the damage he caused, Paul can't help but remember how it used to be. When he first saw her, Paul knew that he was home, and that no matter what the world might throw at them, they would face it together, hand in hand, with those kind, beautiful brown eyes always guiding the way.

He must trust her now as she always trusted him. The truth must be revealed and she should hear it from him.

"I don't want to imagine my life without you in it."

Frowning deeply, she furrows her brows. "You don't have to."

"I love you", he begins, his heart beating wildly in his chest while hers swelled with affection at his words. She knows without a doubt that she feels the same way about him. She reaches up and cups his cheek, gazing into his eyes.

"I know I've been angry, but it's only because I love you too and I worry about you. Just be honest with me", she said softly.

Paul leans in, pressing his lips to hers, and her heart skips a beat.

What is so terrifying that Paul's kiss is so gentle now? Usually his kisses are passionately rough, devouring almost, but now his lips seem deathly afraid of applying pressure and their hands are still clasped together instead of resting on the sides of her neck and face, or even her ass. Something is wrong beyond repair and she can't try to help him if he won't tell her what happened.

As they pull away from the kiss, Paul gives Y/N's hand a gentle squeeze, and she knows that he's ready.

Paul had been dreading this moment for years. Ever since he had the vision of Y/N dying, he had tried everything. At first, he had been avoiding her, trying to keep his distance. But the pull of his heart was impossible to ignore and he fell for her deeper than he imagined possible. Staying away wasn't an option. Then they built a life together and he almost forgot about the nightmares. Since they came back he tried to be stoic, but he couldn't keep up the facade any longer. Y/N had the right to know what he had seen, and it had to come from him.

They sat down on the sand, holding hands, enjoying the last sunrays and the sound of the waves' song as they would meet the shore. Y/N allowed him to kiss her lips, and for a moment, Paul forgot all about his terrible secret.

But then he looked into Y/N's eyes, and he knew that he couldn't keep the truth from her any longer. He took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Y/N, there's something I need to tell you. It's been weighing on me for a while now, and I can't keep it from you any longer."

Y/N looked at him with concern, sensing the seriousness in his voice. It's about the nightmares, she was sure of it.

"What is it, Paul? I'm here." She encouraged him.

Paul hesitated for a moment before finally finding the courage to speak the words that had been haunting him for weeks.

"Remember when I told you about imprinting? How it feels for a wolf to imprint?"

Nodding, she waits for him to continue.

"I didn't tell you everything", he runs a hand through his hair, looking down at the sand. "The moment we look into our imprint's eyes for the first time, we see a glimpse into the future, and for most wolves, it's a life-changing moment that they cherish forever."

Gulping, she crosses her legs. "But not for you?"

He shakes his head slightly.

"What did you see?" Y/N asks softly, her voice small and he can already detect her concerns are turning to fears.

"I had a vision, Y/N. A vision of you...dying. It was so vivid, so real, and I've been trying to keep it from you ever since because I didn't want to face the reality of what might happen."

Y/N's eyes widen in shock, and she pulls her hand away from Paul's. Her heart is racing and her palms are slick with sweat, but she tries her best to keep her fear hidden from Paul. Her emotions are heightened now, but so are his, perhaps she can mask the way her insides turned with his reveal or the way her bottom lip threatens to quiver.

"How does it happen?" she asks. "When does it happen?"

"I don't know when, but you didn't look older than you do now." Paul sighs. "I find you in the forest", he pauses. "I don't think I should tell you more. It's...graphic."

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, trying to process what he had just told her. She felt a mix of emotions - fear, disbelief, anger - all swirling inside her.

"So, it's violent", she trails off, shifting her gaze to the horizon. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, Paul?" she asked, her voice shaking. "We could have used our time so much better. I'd have quit my job, we could have traveled...we could have gotten married and had kids by now!"

Glimpsing a small smile on her face, Paul's heart breaks. Even when he's telling her she is to die and their future is doomed, she thinks of how much she wanted to live whatever little time she had with him, to fully experience what should be decades in such a short time frame.

"I was scared, Y/N. Scared of what it might mean, scared of what might happen to you. But I know now that I can't keep it from you any longer," Paul said, his voice equally shaky.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She looked back at Paul, her eyes filled with tears.

"I don't know what to say, Paul. I'm scared too," she said.

"I know, Y/N. And I'm sorry."

Resting her head on his shoulder, she places her hand on top of his. "I don't want to leave you."

"I'll do everything I can to make sure you never do," Paul promises. "I'll burn the whole fucking forest if I have to."

Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of comfort in his words. She knew that they had a tough road ahead of them, but her main concern is Paul. If she has to die, she will face death with courage.

However, she can't help but wonder what happens to a wolf when its imprint dies?

_______________________

Tags: @the-chaotic-cow @xxxjaexxx @captainrogers-19 @bexloxl @llovergirlll @adaydreamaway08 @sunsetevergreen @volturiwolf @twihard08 @galacticstxrdust @sorrow-and-bliss @ireadthensuetheauthors @missxmarvelous @locokoca @unstablekay @makhaia @venusdelaroix @avadakadabra93 @tearsforhan @a-marie-a @lendeluxe @seagulls-corner @jdbxws @konigslilslut @rottenstyx @itsmytimetoodream @dreamerwasfound @convolutings @rachelccollier @thingfromlove @jennyamanda8 @havecourage-darling @luvr-exe @alittlejudgemental @turningtoclown @emptydoorsandpaintedwindows @marvelmenarebeautiful @bringmethe-world @alitaar @sugasthreedollarkookie @chloe-skywalker @heyheyheyggg @feral-ratatattat-king @queereddie @fandomrulesall-blog @queenotaku27 @dcgoddess @lilac-crown @small-town-wayward-daughter @yourqueentp @boreddemigodd @dracoswifeandlokispet @felinegrate @savagejane1 @lunajay33 @gtfoana @hpboysslut2707 @tpwk-harry-styles @amberpanda99

PART 24

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote series #paul lahote x oc #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote imprint #imprinting #twilight fandom #twilight saga #twilight fic

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rggie · 2 years

Text

TRACK [ 06 ] he’s good. he’s really good.

⭒ wc: 1k

“that was our last song, everyone!” kalim calls out to the crowd, receiving disappointed whines in return. you can easily make out cries of ‘don’t go!’ and ‘please stay!’ and ‘awww!’ from the audience before cater blows a kiss in their direction.

“this has been my favourite audience by far. don’t you agree, lils?” lightsticks—your group’s lightsticks—are raised immediately with the prompt, waving frantically and desperately. your stomach turns at the sight.

so much for fan loyalty.

lilia feigns something akin to ‘youthfulness’ as he cups his own cheeks and grins. “definitely, cater. i could just eat all of them right up!”

the vampire-like noirette wastes no time in savouring his last moments onstage by cooing to a group of fangirls in the front row. he’s pulling out all the stops: baring his fangs, batting his doe eyes, whispering sweet nothings. you swear you can feel the ground rumble beneath your feet with ardent intensity as high-pitched squeals fill the venue for the umpteenth time that night.

oh please, give me a break.

your audiences were usually more on the tame side, so to see the same people practically bursting into tears over simple fanservice has your jaw dropping. you should be getting ready to go up there yourself.

and yet, your eyes are still trained on kalim.

neither google images, nor the photos on social media did him justice. he was beautiful, but not in the way that you’d describe idols like vil. it was his sincerity that left your cheeks warm. from the crinkles in the corners of his eyes as he smiled leading fan waves or the remnants of laughter in his voice as he sung — it caught you off guard — so genuine, so endearing, but vexing all the same.

to say it was uncommon to see someone in this industry not having any sort of stage persona would be an understatement. perhaps that’s what puts TWIST3D aside from idols like yourself. their authenticity makes them stand out; they were just being themselves, so maybe that’s why the audience felt closer to them.

i mean, how could you expect regular people to relate to you when your whole image isn’t even truly you, but a meticulously crafted mask?

the blunders kalim made onstage are overridden by his infectious joy. he was having fun, and that zest oozed from him, influencing the audience. “you guys will keep an eye on TWISTED, won’t you?” there’s a slight pause, before screaming ensues, louder than before.

perhaps the hype was finally getting to you, because you have half the mind to start cheering for him too.

azul, who had been silent throughout the whole gig, utters a tirade of furious curses as he barges into your dressing room. “did you see that??! did you see those guys?”

nodding wordlessly, unfazed as ever, you peer into your vanity mirror one last time.

“i knew it. i knew they’d be trouble. i told you they’d be the next big thing.” footsteps click from one side of the room to the other. “i’m afraid you’ve been outclassed by the epitome of sunshine.” he paces back and forth, muttering under his breath.

“you don’t bother sugarcoating things, do you, ‘zul?”

“i would, but you know me well enough to see through my lies.”

you figure he’s also experiencing the same epiphany as you. it was a tough pill to swallow: kalim was good. kalim was really good.

thinking back to the things you had said about him a few days ago, (that he was just a trust fund baby, that he leeched off his parent’s money and reputation for success…) you realise they were all lies stemmed from your putrid, childish envy. pieces of your trained composure break away as you sink into your seat. despite being an amateur, he was virtually at the same level as you, with the capacity to reach higher.

his immeasurable dancing ability and abundance of energy could attest to that.

you don’t have time to dwell on much more as a knock on your door breaks you right out of your self-depreciative stupor, causing you to shoot up out of your seat stiffly.

“hey, y/n? you’re up in 5!”

you can count the number of times you’ve heard kalim’s merry voice on just one hand, but it already feels too familiar. a glutinous guilt overcomes you, wringing you dry, tightening your throat and rendering you speechless. how could you face him after being so awful?

“hellooo…? y/n, are you in there?”

his words hang heavy in the air when nobody answers, so azul moves for you, seizing your hand and pushing you towards the door. “azul! what—?”

‘you promised you’d talk to him.’ he mouths at you, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. azul did not take the act of breaking promises lightly. he’d been like this for as long as you could remember.

you internally implode, averting your body from his direction. ‘i didn’t!’

‘open. the. door.’

shaking your head vigorously, you hold your hand over the handle in order to stop him from reaching for it. azul deadpans, bristling at your idiocy before pressing your hand down so the door clicks ajar. light from the hallway seeps through the gap into your slightly dim room; for a few silent beats, nothing happens.

shuffling forwards, you peep your head outside, surveying the right side of the hall. you can’t see any sign of kalim at all.

maybe he’s gone.

you let out a sigh of relief, allowing your shoulders to slump a little. you turn to your left, only to see garnet-red eyes inches away from your face—

“HI!”

“holy shit!”

—you’re barrelling into kalim with shock, unable to ease your fall as he grabs onto the crown of your head hastily in a attempt to protect it from hitting the wooden floor.

your faces collide.

light me up, kalim al asim [ idol!au ]

synopsis: you and neige under the group name SNOW reign supreme in the idol world. what happens when kalim, a newly-debuted rookie knocks you off your high horse—and to make things worse—becomes infatuated with you?

masterlist | previous | next ￫

taglist: @shichijouu @strwbrry-cke @yoyoyokalim @bimboing @vievi @alatuskaleidos @aikochan4859 @enqy @venusflwers @kreldeprince @dizzy-days @flannn @jjellyz @h0n3ysgh0st @help-meplz @trappolaces @serenareiss @prefesro @alexandraleshae @potatoopotaato @partycatsinpartyhats @serii-i @milkandcookies-post @mooniepeaches @justgiulia @kalims-pessimist-bestie @fluffimemes @kalims @vnrouge — taglist is still open! just send an ask or leave a comment!

#smau: lmu 🌟#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst fic #twst story #twst smau #kalim x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim x you #🐾・/ rggie twst

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avocado-writing · 2 years

Text

Had to really keep this one concise, bc I could have gotten very carried away with it!

GN!Reader x Tangerine

Tagging: @honestlywtfisgoingon @white-wolf-buckaroo @felhomaly @sinfulrefugy @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway @georgiee-riviere @mushywutty (thank u konront for the gif!)

Tangerine is a businessman, or that’s what he likes to call himself anyway.

It just so happens that his business consists of beating the shit out of anyone who upsets or disrespects his boss. And he’s very good at beating the shit out of those sorts of people. So good he’s made a career out of it, actually.

A lot of people see him and know enough about him that they keep well out of his way. And honestly, he likes it that way. Being feared.

Or at least he thought he did.

And then he sees your smile.

They’re walking down the street, on the way to a bakery Lemon has convinced him they need to go in before they start work today.

“Best croissants I’ve ever had in my life,” Lemon assures him. Tangerine wrinkles his nose up.

“Croissants? What’s wrong with a sausage roll?”

“There’s nothing wrong with a sausage roll, but I’m not gonna start my day with it, am I? Croissants are breakfast food.”

“I’ll break something in a minute,” Tangerine mutters, but Lemon has pretty much learned to ignore him at this point.

The bakery does smell lovely, Tangerine will concede that. And the display case is full of delicious-looking, meticulously-crafted little cakes and pastries.

It’s not them that he ends up staring at, though.

Your smile lights up the whole room. Like a fucking ray of sunshine dressed in a bakery uniform. As soon as you spot Lemon, you’re already holding out a little takeaway bag.

“Morning, Lemon! Here you go - regular order, hot out of the oven,” you say, cheerfully. Lemon grins.

“What would I do without you, eh?”

“Have one cold, I suppose,” you laugh. It’s like music to Tangerine’s ears. Then you finally seem to see him. The next smile, directed at him, threatens to knock Tangerine off his feet.

“Who’s your friend?”

“My brother,” says Lemon, “Tangerine.”

“Oh! This is Tangerine. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Tangerine gets a funny feeling in his chest over the idea that you know anything about him. And yet, you don’t seem afraid.

He realises there’s no way you can know what he and Lemon do for a living.

“All good, I hope,” Tangerine manages.

“Well, mostly about how you don’t like our pastries even though you haven’t even tried one,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest, simulating telling him off. You get an idea, and use your serving tongs to bag up another croissant.

“Here. On the house. Maybe I can win you over.”

Truth be told, you already have.

His fingers brush yours when he takes the bag. Lemon pays for his own order and a coffee to go, putting a lot of money into the tip jar on the counter.

The croissant is delicious.

Tangerine comes back the next day, without Lemon this time. The bell rings as the door opens and you seem surprised to see him.

“Oh, hello! It’s you again. Where’s your brother?”

“I came alone today,” he says. He has the urge to readjust his hair, even though he already fixed it about five times on his way here.

“Did you like the croissant?”

He finds himself smiling at how easily you talk to him.

“It was lovely, actually.”

“See! I knew you’d like it. Do you want another one today?”

“What I want,” Tangerine says, “is to take you out to dinner.”

He’s nervous. He doesn’t like it. He’s never nervous. But the idea that you might say no churns his stomach like an ocean storm.

You seem surprised at this request. Wide-eyed, open-mouthed. The fact you don’t immediately answer eggs him on to say more.

“One dinner. And if you don’t have a good time, I swear I’ll never set foot in this bakery again. Can’t say the same for Lemon, though. He loves this place.”

You smile at that, regaining your composure.

“Well, alright, then. I close the place up at six.”

So he’s back ten hours later, finding you shutting the security gate over the storefront. You’re wearing a black jumper and a pair of jeans. His heart threatens to stop in his chest.

“Oh, Tangerine! You came.”

“You seem surprised.”

You shrug.

“I’m used to being stood up, I guess.”

Tangerine wants to find anyone who’s ever stood you up and make them suffer for it. Instead he settles on walking you to the very fancy restaurant that cleared a reservation for two this evening, when he made it clear who he worked for.

“I feel… thoroughly underdressed,” you decide, looking around after you’ve been seated.

“What? No you’re not, love.”

You scoff.

“Oh, come on. Look around. You’re in a three-piece suit, and I have flour on my sleeve.”

He hates the way you shy into yourself. Trying to make yourself smaller, as if apologising to the world for existing.

“You look wonderful,” he states, honestly.

And there’s that smile again.

The evening goes brilliantly. You speak animatedly about your business, and he asks lots of questions about baking that you’re all too happy to answer. You order a salad, but when he guesses if that’s what you really want you seem relieved and ask for a steak instead. He watches you laugh at his jokes, respond to his flirting with your own.

Then the gunmen ruin it.

He knows his boss’s rivals around this area, and can identify another gang on sight. You let out a shocked, fearful gasp as the door is kicked in, and the assailants ready their weapons.

Tangerine, however, is a professional.

And very, very angry his date has been ruined.

“Get down,” he states, pulling his pistol out. For a moment you’re frozen with fear. But when he takes aim and shoots one of the men in the head, you find enough of your wits to dive under the table.

He’s glad you don’t see what happens. Or, at least, have a very obscured view. Because it seems like the gunmen didn’t count on him being in the restaurant. The next five minutes are brief but bloody. His suit gets stained when he pulls the trigger at one of them at point blank range and that makes him even more furious. He’s far more aggressive than he needs to be from that moment on, using his knuckle dusters out of anger than necessity.

When he’s done there’s a metallic tang tainting the air. He heads back to where he told you to hide, gets down on one knee and peers beneath the tablecloth.

Your eyes are wide, full of tears, and it breaks his heart.

“Tangerine,” you whisper, “what… what do you do?”

He smiles, thinly.

“Businessman, love.”

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #tangerine bullet train #bullet train fanfic

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heytherejulia · 9 months

Text

It's nice to have a friend ~ Polin

pairing: modern!penelope featherington x modern!colin bridgerton

warning: some swearing, sexual innuendos, fat shaming, shitty mother, usual bridgerton chaos, insomnia, insecurities

summary: a walk through colin and penelope's relationship based on it's nice to have a friend by mother, doctor, taylor allison swift

word count: 2,9k

Penelope Featherington was walking home after the last lecture she had that day and her only company was the ringing of a bell of the nearby primary school. January didn’t treat them nicely this year and everything around her was completely white. She was barely able to see a chalk drawing on a sidewalk as it was also covered in snow. She smiled to herself when she realised that the image of three little people was drawn on the pavement and signed “me and my best friends”. She thought it was the most adorable thing in the world and she’d never been very sentimental about stuff like that but today she felt like she might actually cry because of how freaking cute it was.

She regained her composure when she felt a piercing cold air on her bare fingers. She put her hands into the pockets of her coat only to realise that she lost her gloves, and it was freezing outside, and she still had at least half a kilometre to her flat.

‘Awesome,’ she muttered under her breath.

Penelope felt a tap on her shoulder and she thought her soul had just left her body for good. She didn’t have time to reach for pepper spray nor was she half a decent runner to escape the intruder. She waited for the inevitable when a person revealed his face. It was only Colin. Her life long crush, Colin. Her best friend’s brother, Colin. Her best friend too, if she let herself be bold enough to assume so.

‘Hello, Pen.’

‘Colin! I didn’t expect to see you here.’

‘Yeah, I was just walking by and saw you and thought I’d say hi. You’re going home?”

‘Thousand times yes.’

He laughed. She liked the sound of it. It felt nice to hear him laugh at something that she said. Even if it wasn’t even a little funny. Still, even Colin’s warm laugh couldn’t prevent her body from shaking from how bloody cold it was.

‘You cold?’

‘I lost my gloves. But I’ll be fine, don’t worry.’

‘Here, take this.’ He handed her one of his blue gloves. Penelope blushed slightly at the gesture but hoped he wouldn’t notice as her cheeks were already pink from the wind. They walked for some time when he suddenly stopped.

‘Wanna hang out? At my place? It’s closer than yours.’

‘Yeah, sounds like fun.’

***

Penelope found herself in Colin Bridgerton’s living room for the hundredth time in the past few months looking at him playing some weird video game. She was never into such things, not with her mother towering over her shoulder all the time, forcing her into reading educational books instead of some ‘muddling activities’, so she had never played them when she was a kid and now that she’s twenty something years old she just couldn’t find any will in herself to start it. She just didn’t see a point in doing that. Old habits die hard.

‘C’mon Pen, play with me, it’s just Mario Kart.’

‘I can’t.’ He frowned.

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t know how. I’ve never done that before.’

‘NO WAY! You’re friends with Eloise and she has never forced you into playing Mario Kart with her?!’

Penelope just looked at him with a small shrug.

‘It’s okay, I’ll teach you. Sit here.’

He tapped a place between his legs on the sofa. She blushed. There was no way she would be able to sit there and play a stupid game while Colin's arms were wrapped around her body. But she did as he told her and sat in front of him and took a pad from him.

‘Are you ready?’ She nodded. ‘Alright, you have to press this button to start and those to move…’

***

Penelope was so happy to finally have a summer break. As much as she loved journalism and literature, she was more than ready to unwind and rest during her vacation. University was intense. She was at annual Bridgertons’ barbecue sitting next to Gregory and trying to ignore the piercing gaze of her mother, who definitely did not approve of her short fitted blue dress. It was too short, too fitting, and definitely too blue, and not yellow enough. She stood up from her seat, took her plate and went to Anthony who was grilling some meat.

‘Classy apron, Viscount Bridgerton.’ He was wearing an apron that said ‘sexy cook’. Probably a gag gift from one of his siblings.

He glared at her but then laughed.

‘Do you want a sausage?’

‘Yeah, I would like one, thank you.’ As he was putting a sausage on her plate she heard her mother's shrieking voice.

‘I don’t think you should be eating that, Penelope, you can skip some of your meals, dear.’

Suddenly she wasn’t feeling hungry anymore. She left her plate on a table next to Anthony and went straight to her seat. Colin stopped mid track his conversation with Kate about India when he heard Portia’s words. He furrowed his eyebrows on the fact that Pen really listened to her mother and refused to eat. He didn't like it a bit.

‘I’m sorry, Kate, I have to do something.’ She just smiled at him and made a ‘go ahead’ gesture.

He took his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to Penelope. When she felt her phone buzzing and picked it up from the table she saw a message from Colin.

Wanna hang out?

yes

She took her handbag and denim jacket and followed him to the entrance of the garden. He gestured to her to get into his car.

‘Where are we going, Col?’

‘Eat.’

‘But we just ate.’

‘No, WE didn’t. I did.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘I don’t care. I am.’

Of course he cared and he didn’t listen to her protest, and soon after they were sitting in a car-park eating burger and chips that Colin got at the drive through.

‘Don’t listen to that shit.’

She snapped out of the haze.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t listen to the shit your mother is saying to you. You’re perfect just the way you are. And you have to eat to stay healthy, Pen.’

She blushed at his words. She knew he didn’t mean anything by that but it still made her heart flutter. If she wanted to get over her crush on him, he really had to stop saying things like that. But that was that and she couldn’t change his or her own feelings. She just had to accept that he simply saw her the same way he saw Daphne, Eloise, Francesca or Hyacinth. His friendship had to be enough.

‘Thank you, Colin, it's nice to have a friend.’

She broke her own heart by saying those words. But this was for the best.

***

In August, Colin, Penelope, Eloise, and her friend Philip decided to go camping. Their idea was brilliant until they realised that they live in England and it’s bloody freezing and raining all the damn time even during the summer. When it wasn’t pouring outside they tried to make the best of their time, but there wasn’t much left to do, because even when it wasn't raining, there was so much water everywhere and so much mud. So really, all that was left to do was sitting in their tents playing some stupid secondary school games.

Penelope was a little bit miserable during this trip because Eloise obviously wanted to hang out with Philip and Pen as her tent roommate had to spend half of her time outside to give them some privacy. After two days, Colin just ordered Philip to switch a tent with Penelope cause there was no point in them getting rid of her every two hours. So for the rest of the stay, she slept in Colin's tent.

On the last (again rainy) night when she was about to go to sleep, Colin broke the silence.

'I want to travel.'

Penelope smiled at him because she knew that for some time now. Well, at least she was suspecting it.

'Then do that.'

'I also want to write.'

'Then do that too.'

He looked at her like she was a bit crazy.

'What if I'm not good enough at it?'

'Then you'll get better, no one's born a perfect writer, all of those great novelists and poets had to start somewhere or otherwise we wouldn't know them now. You've got this, Col, I know you do.'

He grabbed her hand in the dark.

'Thanks, Pen, it's nice to have a friend.'

***

In the last week of summer 2022, Pen and Colin decided to celebrate the last few days of warm weather, before the rainy autumn comes back and the last days in each other's company before he gets back to travelling and she gets back to work.

She looked up from her spot on a blanket and stared at the light pink sky up on the roof of Aubrey Hall. It was getting dark and late as the sun sunk down.

'Do you want to head back?'

Colin was a considerate type of guy in comparison to Eloise, who usually tended to forget about other people and their needs, unless reminded. The two were completely different but Penelope still adored them both equally. Okay, maybe not. She definitely wouldn’t want to jump Eloise’s bones as much attractive she was.

She looked away from the sky and towards Colin. She didn’t want to burst the bubble they were in. She liked being alone with him. She liked the fact that he listened. Simply listened. And he saw her, the real her. Even though he clearly couldn’t see or chose to ignore how much in love she was with him.

‘No, not really. I mean, there’s no curfew, right?’

He smiled thinking about the one time he actually sneaked into her house, way past the curfew, and almost got caught just because he wanted to tell her about his plans for a gap year.

‘No, there’s no curfew… Wanna play twenty questions?’

‘Is there a need for that? I’m almost a hundred percent sure we know each other better than that.’

‘C’mon Pen, it’s going to be fun, here, I’ll start. What is your book about?’

‘Romance.’

‘And? That’s it? There has to be something more.’

‘That’s another question, Col. My turn. When are you going to send your journals to the publisher?’

‘I’m not sure I am.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Two additional questions, wait for your turn. Have you been sleeping well?’

‘Uhm, sure?’

Colin didn’t look convinced.

‘Are you sure that’s what you want to use your question for?’

‘Yeah. Pretty sure. Also, the unwritten rule of twenty questions is telling the truth, so please, tell me the truth, Pen.’

She licked her lips considering how much of her late struggles she was supposed to share with Colin without lying and worrying him too much.

‘Okay, not so much. It’s the heat, I can’t sleep because of it.’

Technically not a lie. The temperature was not helping her insomnia.

‘Anyway, my turn. Why do you not want to show the publisher your journals?’

‘Because they need editing and I can’t edit them to make them decent enough to be actually published.’

‘That’s bullshit, Colin, they’re already brilliant but if you want, I can help you. Editing is kinda my job anyway.’

He looks at her gratefully.

‘I’d love that.’

He kept looking at her until she asked if he wanted to ask his next question.

‘Oh, yeah, sure, you’ve been stressed out lately?’

‘Sort of, yeah. It’s hard to keep up with pace at work and my mum is so behind with paying off her loan and she keeps asking for help and my salary stops covering my and her bills. You?’

‘Yeah, me too. But it’s not important, wanna talk about your mum?’

‘No, I want you to tell me why you’re stressed.’

‘I think I want to stop travelling that much. I’m applying for a job here and I’m getting a flat. I’m thinking about settling down.’

She looked away from him. Colin staying in the country was a dream come true but Colin settling down with some women was like a nightmare.

‘Wow. That’s a big decision. Good for you, Colin. So, who finally convinced you to stay?’

At that moment Colin felt it was the right moment. He didn’t really want to wait any longer. He didn’t know what was the moment he realised that he wanted a future with her nor did he understand that. But he did come to his senses and waiting was not an option. He needed her in his life in more ways than as just a friend. He felt that something gave him the nerve to touch her hand.

‘You, Pen.’ He whispered. ‘Cause it’s nice to have a friend.’

***

Penelope was walking home to the sound of church bell rings that carried her all the way back. She wasn’t sure if that was a real wedding or maybe her madly in love mind made that up. As she was passing by the old church, she saw the rice on the ground and thought that it truly felt like snow. And she wasn’t delusional after all, some couple really did get married.

She was so happy to be back home because it meant at least two and one third of day with Colin, doing absolutely nothing, just chilling, but at the same time she was so worn out by work and even a thought of her mother’s nonsense idea of family dinner. She knew that everything Portia would say would be nothing more than a bunch of bullshit, but she did know where to hit so it would leave a bruise. So Pen was more than happy to stay at home.

What she was not so happy about, however, was the fact that her mother would never give her peace, if they ditch the dinner with her side of the family. It felt almost bizarre, saying that phrase, because technically Colin was not her husband, not even her fiance and relatively speaking, her family was simply her family, he didn’t have any obligations towards them.

But Colin was a good boyfriend. He knew what a bitch Portia and Prudence could be, and would never allow Pen to deal with them on her own. The years she spent dealing with their crap alone were more than enough, and now that he finally came to his senses about his feelings, he was going to be there to protect her for the rest of their lives.

Colin was looking at Penelope as she was driving to her family house and couldn’t help but notice how tired and distracted she was. She was still driving safely but her sour mood was visible.

‘Hey, Pen, wanna switch? I can drive for the rest of the way.’

‘No, there’s no need to. I’m fine, it’s not a long drive.’

‘Are you sure? I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.’

She really didn’t. Her insomnia was back and she hadn’t been able to sleep for more than two hours every night for the last two weeks. She tried to convince him that she was fine, but he could call her bluff at the blink of an eye.

‘Fine, you can drive.’

He smiled at her as she pulled over and gave him a quick kiss as she got out of the car.

‘Thank you, babe.’

***

The dinner was an absolute and utter disaster. Portia Featherington was one of the biggest bitches in the world. She knew how much Pen was working and that she didn't sleep well, and yet the only thing she could say to Penelope was that she should start wearing more makeup and that her figure was not suitable for someone with her weight. Colin had enough of her bullshit.

‘Penelope is working really hard because Mrs. Danbury offered her a possible promotion but she has to prove herself and she works her arse off. And she’s the most beautiful woman in the world and if you can’t see it, then you’re fucking blind.’

Colin stood up from his chair, grabbed Pen by hand and dragged her out of the fucking madhouse. He was so furious he realised that he hadn’t said a word to Penelope until they were half way through to their flat.

‘I’m sorry, love. I know it is your family but I couldn’t just sit there and listen as they offended my brilliant girlfriend.’

‘No, I wanted to thank you for having my back there.’

‘Everyday.’

Penelope has realised that for a long time now, she stopped associating home with a place but with a person. At this very moment their old beat up ford was home, because Colin was there with her. She didn’t need her shitty family when she got him. He was more than enough for her. And Bridgertons were a package deal, with one you got the whole bunch, so she knew that she had more people that she could count on, than she could ever dreamt of.

‘What do you wanna do for the rest of the day?’

She thought about his question for a while. She wasn’t in the mood for anything really, she just wanted to lay in bed and maybe sleep. And maybe she wanted cuddles too.

‘Stay in bed.’

Colin looked at her and smirked.

‘Colin Bridgerton!’

He just smiled and kissed her knuckles.

‘We can stay in bed the whole weekend. We’ve got all the time in the world.’

Penelope sighed happily, as she was lying in his arms in her comfortable clothes. It truly was nice to have a friend.

#colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton #polin #polin fanfiction

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widowbitessting · 11 months

Note

Heyyy I’m so glad you are back to writing but it’s good to took a break cause breaks are good too!!

Anyway I had a question would the trio do something to celebrate baby finishing finals and the semester?

Hey my love! I remember seeing this and wanting to reply almost immediately then...writer's block hit...and life soooo...hi😅 I am so sorry for the literal, 7 month wait to get back to you *insert face plant gif here* (although I swear I replied to this...cos what I've just written is eerily similar but I can't find that reply anywhere...meh oh well!

All the love (I still can't get over you read my stuff!)

They would for sure spoil you rotten. Like, they've had everything planned for literal months. And kept it all quiet - for months! They wait for you to get back to their apartment, exhausted from your last day, and sit in literal darkness - Wanda literally having to be gagged by Carol to keep her excited giggles quiet - and when you manage to turn the lights on, you all but head butt the ceiling when you see and hear your girlfriends in the living room; Wanda finally being able to let out the excited noises she had been made to keep in. You swear your heart almost jumps out of your throat as you let out a very high pitched scream, arms and legs stuck in a desperate tango of fight or flight.

When you finally, finally, regain enough composure (and your ability to see again), your girlfriends are now standing. Wanda holding up a self made sign that the Trio! had individually put their signatures on - and you can safely say, through tight lips as you try to hold a laugh in, that Art is not any of their strong suits. Natasha and Carol are both holding balloons filled with helium in their hands, and their mouths are still open from their shouts of : "Congratulations!"

It takes you a second or two, to come round; heart pounding loudly in your ears as one hand clutches your chest with vice like fingers. When you finally overcome the panic and register the sweet act before you; you let out a small laugh and cover your mouth.

The living room has been switched to an indoor picnic; blanket lay out on floor with cushions adorned with fluffy blankets and a couple of your favourite stuffed toys. On the couch, an assortment of your favourite foods and snacks, as well as sugary drinks - Natasha reminds you it’s a one time treat to drink them so late in the evening, especially considering you hadn’t drank your total amount of water that day - and you can’t help but zero in on the small bundle of presents that sit beside the food.

You tackle them each for individual hugs and kisses, burrowing into them tightly and thanking them over and over.

“It’s just a small thing,” Natasha says as she squishes you tightly against her, “for all the hard word you’ve put in to your school work.”

“You deserve it and more baby.” Carol adds, kissing you cheek.

“I wanted to take you to Italy but these two said it was too much.” Wanda winks, slapping your ass.

You’re whisked away by Wanda to get changed into brand new pyjamas chosen by Carol - satin ones with matching shorts in your favourite colour - “For easy access.” Wanda adds.

You’re then led downstairs and given the option or eating first or opening presents; and let’s just say, the wrapping paper lasts all but five seconds when they allow you to get to them.

Your gifts are perfect.

A giant teddy bear holding a single rose; and around the stem, the diamond necklace that had caught your eye weeks ago.

A box of your favourite chocolates.

A brand new journal and pen.

The last box has your face turning crimson. Underneath delicate tissue lies a lingerie set that leaves little to the imagination.

“A-are these for any particular event…?” You hold up the bra, eyes near bulging from your head when Natasha holds the matching knickers.

“These are more for…personal use, baby. Just for us to enjoy.”

Yeah, there was no way you were going to wear knickers with a slit in the middle out in public.

The rest of the evening is spent enjoying each other and eating all the rubbish food your tummy can muster.

And when you doze off on the floor around 1am, curled around Carol; Wanda and Natasha cover you in a blanket and snuggle down alongside you.

Everything is perfect.

#natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #carol danvers #reader insert #sugar mommies #sugar mommies!asks #natasha x wanda x carol x reader #spiderbites #smu

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call-sign-jinx · 1 year

Text

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw - Her

Summary - you’re Bradley’s best friend and he tells you who he loves which breaks your heart

Warnings - fluff, swearing, drinking

A/N - hiya me luvlys! how r u luvly people doing today? also, for whatever isn't requested specifically, the reader will always have a northern british accent, like a manchester accent. just a preference sorry ahaha xx

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader

Bradley has been my best mate since I moved to America. I moved in right next door to him with my mum and dad and little sister Alya. We moved to America because my dad got a new job and thought it was best for all of us.

Bradley then became my best friend very quickly. The first day we met to be more precise. He stuck up for me when I were getting bullied during my first week of my new school. Some bitch decided to take the piss out of me and Alya cause we’re fucking Polish? Okay mate. Anyway, I’m getting side tracked here.

Bradley stuck up for me and Alya right off the bat. He was so sweet and he gave Alya his lunch cause them kids decided to fucking take her lunch which is just classic stupid ass bully shit from films.

Now god knows how many years later, we’re in the Navy, as Naval Aviators, went to different academies, and we’ve both been called to Top Gun. He was the first person I called to tell him. And I was the first person he called. We immediately went down to our favourite bar to celebrate, Alya coming as well cause she’s part of our group. But in all honesty, me and Bradley are closer.

Currently, me and Bradley are sat in his Bronco on our way to the Hard Deck to meet some of the other aviators. Hopefully there’s another woman there, if there isn’t I’m gonna be too overwhelmed with testosterone. I already get enough from Rooster over here.

Anyways, as soon as I got into the Navy, people gave me the callsign Fox (you can change the callsign and why you got it but I’m going to use this 😊) because “I’m a fox”, meaning I’m sexy, according to everyone at my academy. Which consisted of all men and one woman who was a WSO who soon retired to be with her family after a training scare. God I miss her, her callsign was Nyx. She was amazing. Bradley said I got my callsign because “I look cute but I’m a silent killer”. I like that reason better.

Back to the Hard Deck. Me and Bradley walked in talking about some shit we did back in high school. Which I am not proud of because it mostly consisted of making out with lads and getting stupidly drunk at parties which led to Bradley taking me home while I sang California Love.

As I looked around my eyes instantly landed on a woman with military uniform on and my eyes lit up. I quickly made my way toward her, accidentally leaving Bradley, and introduced myself.

“Hi, oh my God, you don’t know how happy I am to see another female aviator here…” I looked to her name tag and saw her callsign, Phoenix. “Phoenix! I’m Y/N. But my callsign’s Fox. It’s really nice to know I won’t suffer with too much testosterone alone.” I was rambling at this point, but she didn’t seem to mind. She smiled and nodded at everything I said.

“It really is a relief, before you came over here I thought I would be alone with all these guys. And I love your callsign. How’d you get it?” Phoenix gave me a inquisitive look and I smiled remembering the day some jackass gave it to me.

“Because I’m ‘foxy’ then everyone started calling me it and it just stuck. Because of some fucking wankstain that gave it to me.” Phoenix then burst into laughter as I said “wankstain”.

“Guys are like that all the time, especially Hangman over there.” She points to a guy and he looks like a real life Ken doll.

“Just this moment I thought he was a 6’2 Ken doll. He looks fucking plastic. Wondered why the Hard Deck would put a Ken Doll display up in here.” Phoenix then began laughing to the point she had to hold her stomach.

As Phoenix gained composure, I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I turned to look around and saw Bradley. I smiled up at him and rested my head on his hand.

“I see you’ve already met Phoenix.” Bradley stretched his arm across my shoulder and smirked at Phoenix. Does he like her? Why would I care anyway? Do I care? Does he like her though?

“Yep, and I like her more than you already.” I turned my body to face Bradley and he placed his hand on his heart in mock hurt.

“That hurts my feelings sweetheart, how dare you.” The new nickname brought heat to my cheeks. I looked down to my feet quickly then looked back up to him and put a smirk on my face.

“Aww poor Bradley, come on Phoenix we need to give him a hug. He’s having a bad day today.” I made a pouty face and Bradley just stood there with a pissed off smile.

“Shut up Y/N. You know you love me.” I rolled my eyes as Bradley came up and and hugged me by my side.

————————————————————————

“Bro, I can’t be arsed with getting up so early just to meet who we’re gonna be trained by.” I said to Rooster as he took a swig of the shared bottle of Apple Sourz that I got an hour before meeting up with him in his Bronco.

“Best not be some prick who’s full of himself. I swear if he is and he tries anything wiv me, you, Bob or Phoenix am gonna spark him out.” Bradley lets out a hearty laugh and pats my shoulder.

“You British people sure do have a way with words sweetheart.” There it is again. The nickname. It brings heat up to my cheeks yet again and it’s not dark enough to hide so Bradley can see it.

“Are you blushing Y/N?” I immediately look away as my worries were confirmed. Bradley saw me fucking blush. Great.

“No why?” I pretended to be oblivious to the raging red covering my face. It got even darker as Bradley squinted his eyes at me, getting a better look at the rouge covering my whole face most likely.

"You're as red as a tomato Y/N. Is something wrong then? If you're not blushing then why is your face red?" I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me, I may be called Fox but I don't think I can get myself out of this one.

"It's getting a bit hot? That's why. It's getting hot." Bradley rolled his eyes at my answer. But he didn't press on it any more. We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Until I broke the silence.

"Bradley?" Bradley sat up and turned to look at me before nodding his head for me to continue.

"How come you've never had a long term girlfriend? I'm sorry for asking but I've always wanted to know because, not gonna lie you are quite easy on the eyes so I just don't understand it." Bradley's eyes widened in shock. I was lying when I said he was "quite easy on the eyes" he's fucking gorgeous! He's fucking perfect for God's sake!

I immediately regretted what I said and before he could even open his mouth I blurted out, "Shit! Sorry! I don't know why I even said that. Just ignore it, you don't have to-" Bradley cut me off by putting his hand over my mouth.

"It's okay Y/N/N, I'm fine with answering any questions you have for me. We're best friends after all, aren't we?" I nodded in response.

"It's because I never truly or fully like or love them. There's something stopping me from doing that. Because I like that thing so much better and all I do is compare them to her." My eyes widened and heart broke, he was in love with someone? That's why he's never had a long term girlfriend? Because he's in love with another woman?

"Her?" Is all I could say. Tears threatened to come out of my eyes, I couldn't cry in front of him after he said that. It'd make it obvious that I was in love with him.

"Yeah, and she's amazing, I think I love her in all honesty. She's smart, she's funny, she's beautiful and she's brave..." I had to look away so Bradley didn't see me cry. She already sounds so much better than I could ever be and he only named 4 things about her.

"And she's got a Callsign that she hates but I absolutely love..." He grabbed my chin with his index finger and thumb and made me look at him.

"And do you wanna know what her Callsign is?" I nodded my head, wanting to know this amazing woman who made Bradley swoon for her.

"Fox." My heart literally stopped. I couldn't breath. The tears completely stopped and I couldn't help the massive smile that was painted across my face.

"Me?" I just wanted to confirm it. Confirm I wasn't imagining that he said my Callsign.

"Yes you. You're the reason I've never had a girlfriend for longer than a month. Because to me, you're so much better than all of them combined. And before you ask, the reason I didn't tell you is because I thought that if I had told you, you wouldn't feel the same and it would ruin our friendship. And yes I know that that's what every guy says to his girl best friend in most of the movies we've watched. So don't even comment on that." In response to his confession, I threw myself on him in a big hug that knocked him onto his back on the bonnet of his Bronco.

After I pulled away from the hug, I looked into Bradley's eyes and smiled. He loved me. Bradley fucking Bradshaw loves me!

"I love you too Bradley. I always have and I always will." Before he could reply, I connected our lips as I ran my hand threw his hair. His mustache tickled my top lip and it made me giggle slightly. Bradley almost immediately kissed back as his hands trailed down my torso to my waist and pulled my closer. I swiped my tongue across his bottom lip asking for permission and he quickly allowed it. Bradley then squeezed my waist which elicited a slight moan from my mouth.

When we both finally pulled away, Bradley had a look in his eyes that I've never seen before. I furrowed my brows, confused at his expression. "What?" I questioned him and all he did was smile more than he already was.

"I've just realised that my life is perfect now that I have you. And no one else can have you." I rolled my eyes with a playful smile on my face.

"You have to pop the question before you can say that, Rooster." We both now had the same smirk on our faces.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you be my girlfriend?" He had a charming mixed with excited smile on his face. One I couldn't say no to of course.

"I would love to be." With that, he pulled my into another kiss.

I finally felt at ease with him. He is basically my emotional support animal but a human. He's always been there for me and now he's my boyfriend. I couldn't be any happier than this right now. Nothing can beat what I'm feeling right now.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster #top gun rooster #rooster bradshaw fluff #rooster fluff #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster top gun

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artificial-sleep · 6 months

Text

Tapping into Denki being miserably in love -- the painful, aching kind that Ovid warned of.

At first, Kyouka is guarded, really guarded. Denki has had a crush on her for a while, but she keeps her distance, pushing him away over and over again.

She's convinced that this a game to him: that he doesn't really know what love is and he can't love her. He's a flirt, your typical boy who likes the prize of the chase more than the human being who comes with it. She's terrified of falling for him, so she rejects him continually.

Until one day she gives him a chance.

But only after she makes him swear he'll treat her right. She demands respect, and Denki seems to think her going out with him is all lighthearted and fun, giddy with the excitement. It fuels her fire.

"I'm gonna treat you like a princess, Jirou. I promise!" he says with a toothy grin, and she scowls.

"No! I am absolutely not a princess." Denki looks confused, but he can't possibly understand what it meant to be an object of affection in the Middle Ages.

He can't possibly imagine what it means to be a woman now. It means to be just that: an object, a possession. It makes her skin crawl with uneasiness. She wants to be loved, not made into doll.

"I'm a human being. Not just a silly little girl. And I'm no treasure or princess or pet because I cannot be owned. I can only be loved."

Denki doesn't get it. Of course he doesn't. And he stupidly blurts out, "I do love y-" to which Kyouka plugs her ears immediately to keep the poisoned words out of her head.

"No, you don't," she demands, "You can't because you don't even know me. If you want to love me, then you have to know me."

So Denki accepts the challenge. And Kyouka stays carefully guarded along the way, not giving more to him than he can handle.

She withholds the first kiss for a long time and any private encounters for that matter.

They meet in public spaces and they talk. And Denki slowly knows Kyouka, and the fleeting flittering his stomach used to do when he saw her has progressed into a monster.

He feels like he might be swallowed whole by the sensation of how Kyouka makes him feel until he's a stumbling idiot. Until it's not funny or cute anymore and the love he feels for her is so overwhelming it might rip him apart.

Only then does she allow him true access, a deeper, truer love until he's spilling over hopelessly, crying on her doorstep in the middle of the night because he's so miserably, awfully, terribly, dreadfully in love that he'll die if he can't be with her.

"Kyouka, I love you. I swear, I love you. I can't get enough of you. I think about you all the time. Everything I do, I think if it would make you happy. I- I can't imagine going a day without you, and I can't even picture a future without you in it. I-I love you.

I love you just like you taught me I would. And I love you for exactly who you are as you are now."

It's like a dam breaks, Kyouka's careful composure quickly reduced to crumbs. She's sobbing, holding him impossibly closer, chanting pleas of her unrequited love.

And this is... This is the love she was worried about.

And now she had taught the man she loves how to harvest it and admonish her in it, and all she can do is let it wreck her now until they're both hopeless, lovesick fools.

- E N D -

Hi I needed this to restore my faith in heteroromance (it didn't work I still think it's a hoax lol) but like yeah sometimes love fucking HURTS AGHH so if you want love to hurt here's my Playlist for this one:

Just the Same - Bruno Major

Oh Comely - Neutral Milk Hotel

It Will Rain - Bruno Mars and also If I Knew

And Work Song - Hozier but also all of Hozier because he has a gift for writing about painful love his songs just hurt so good and hit every damn time

Okay thank you have a good day

#kamijirou #denki kaminari #jirou kyouka #kaminari x jirou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #romantic

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apollafire · 1 month

Text

Chapter One

Summary; Dr. Kate Harrison has her first day as a member of staff at Columbia. The work place she was provided with is less than stellar but the neighbors aren't so bad.

Warnings; swearing, Dean Yeager's an asshole but not present, Venkman being Venkman

Final Word Count; 1071

Columbia University 1980

“My baby sister, a doctor! And a professor! Ugh I can’t believe it.” The click of a camera shutter went off several more times, “Hold still for God sakes, I have to get one for Aunt Rose.”

“First of all, I’m not a professor. Yet.” Kate Harrison sighed deeply, “I’m a glorified lab assistant, and I will be until Dr. McNulty either finally decides to retire or ends up dying. Damn tenure.” She muttered looking down at her shoes, “Look, Irene, I really do appreciate the ride but if I knew you had planned on taking enough pictures to fill up a magazine I wouldn’t have accepted.”

“Oh so you could’ve sat on the subway with no one to talk to and get your fancy white coat all dirty? Not on my watch.” A few more camera clicks.

“Irene, you’re going to make me late. I have to finish setting up my office.” The woman turned away to start heading towards the front door of the building.

“Okay, okay. Just remember, dinner this Saturday at mine and John’s. I know you have nothing going on so you better be there.”

“No promises.”

The basement. Dean Yeager stuck her in the basement after promising her office would be right next door to Dr. McNulty for convenience for herself and students alike. There weren’t even any damn windows and grow lamps for her plants definitely were not provided like agreed upon at the end of last semester.

“That motherfucker.” She muttered as she pushed the door open and took in her new domain, at least all her boxes seemingly made it down here unscathed. After procuring a blank sheet of notebook paper and a black marker, she wrote DR. KATHERINE HARRISON - BIOCHEMISTRY & BOTANY in big capital letters. She taped that paper to the door and shut it behind her as she got to work unpacking, figuring it was highly unlikely she was to ever actually get her name permanently painted on the frosted glass. After getting her music to a level she liked and could block out the world for a while, she got started with the desk and the metal shelves behind it.

Unbeknownst to her, the sudden burst of music from the formerly empty room interrupted some “very important work” in the Paranormal Studies laboratory next door with which she shared a wall.

“The damn janitor must’ve brought a radio down for his smoke break.” Peter Venkman grumbled from under a magazine as he laid across an old beaten down couch, “Ray go kick him out again, will ya? I’m missing out on prime sleep time over here.”

Ray looked up from the book he was reading with a furrowed brow, looking from where Peter lazed over to Egon to see if he could force him to go do it this time. But the man was so deep into whatever mold sample he was looking at through the microscope that it would be a while before he came up for air. He sighed deeply and rolled his chair back a few feet before getting up and making his way out to the hallway. The less muffled sound of Ozzy Osbourne’s Mr. Crowley met his ears as he walked to the next door over, raising his fist to knock loudly. He stopped as he read the paper on the door that was not there when him and the guys got in that morning. Tilting his head in slight confusion, he reached out and gently just pushed the door open slowly.

“You know, Aleister Crowley was actually a very interesting man.” He called out after a moment of observation, seemingly startling the woman as she caught a book that had begun to fall from her hands.

“I do know, actually.” Kate spoke after regaining her composure, gesturing to the shelf that now housed all three volumes of the Collected Works of Aleister Crowley as she reached to the radio to turn it off, “I’m not a fan, but my grandparents may have been Thelemians back in the day. Real hush hush about it though.” She walked over to the stranger standing in the doorway, “I’m Kate Harrison. Sorry for the noise, I didn’t realize anyone else was banished to the basement.”

“Really? Oh wow that’s fascinating. I’m Dr. Ray Stantz.” They shared a friendly handshake and continued to speak, “My colleagues and I work next door in the Paranormal Studies lab. We thought you were Paul the janitor, he’s usually in here on his smoke breaks.”

“That explains the ash and butts everywhere, for a janitor he doesn’t really clean up after himself.” She looked down at the floor and kicked a few of the said cigarette butts aside, “Paranormal Studies you say? Sounds like a secret almost.”

“Nope, we are fully funded by the board.” Ray put his hands on his hips proudly, “You should come by and check it out! Maybe I can convince the guys to come and help you unpack so you’re stuck in here all day.”

“That sounds like a good plan. Lead the way Dr. Stantz.” She said with a smile before following the man down the hallway.

“Hey guys!” Ray grinned as he opened the door and stepped back into the lab, letting Kate come in behind him, “We have a new neighbor.” No movement or acknowledgement from either man made the woman look at Ray skeptically.

“Wow Ray, didn’t realize your colleagues were just mannequins that you positioned around the room.” She said playfully. Boom, that got their attention. The man on the couch shot up with such a speed he almost fell to the floor as he made his way over, hand outstretched and what he probably thought was an award winning smile stretched across his face.

“Pete Venkman, pleasure to meet you.” He said, shaking her hand, “Egon, get over here, Ray actually brought home a woman to meet us for once.”

“You lay it on pretty thick, don’tcha Dr. Venkman.” She responded with a small laugh. Her gaze fell to the man standing up from looking into a microscope, watching him pick up a pair of glasses and slip them on before turning in her direction.

“I’m Dr. Egon Spengler.” Just with that sentence, Kate could listen to him talk all day, “It’s a pleasure, like Venkman said.”

“Dr. Kate Harrison, and the pleasure’s all mine.” She smiled brightly.

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters oc #egon spengler #egon spengler x oc #katherine harrison #apollafire #dearly departed #fanfic

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 2 years

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What they do when they have a crush on you

Characters: Nilou/Jean x gn!reader

Warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: My Jean simping continues, and so does my streak of writing random things instead of my requests. I swear I'll get to them, but there are simply aren't enough requests with Jean in my inbox, so I have to do it myself /hj

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Nilou

While some might get shy, embarrassed, or sometimes more brazen around the person they liked, Nilou’s friendly behaviour didn’t change too much around you. Sure, there were times she’d say something to you without thinking it over, nearly losing her composure as a result, but those were exceptions, no the rule.

Whenever Nilou found some extra time, she liked to invite you to the great Bazaar, no matter if she had a performance and wanted you to be in the audience or simply wanted to spend time with you. From all of the places in Sumeru city, there weren’t many that could rival it in her eyes, and while the lively atmosphere was great even when on her own, with you it felt just the better.

Sometimes you’d actually buy something, but often the two of you would simply look from stall to stall while either chatting with each other or talking to the shop-owners, who were already more than used to seeing both of you around.

The moment Nilou and you had entered the Bazaar, she had began to lead you all the way to a small shop selling all kinds of pastries, sweets and other such things, and while you first thought that it must have been a new store, having never visited or even seen it before, the way Nilou and the shop-owner talked made it obvious that this wasn’t the first time she bought something from them.

“Please, feel free to pick something that you’d want, that’s on me”, Nilou offered to you, causing you to think about it for a few seconds. While you weren’t the biggest fan of pastries, the thought of not ordering anything, when she had been so excited to show the stall to you, left you with a bitter taste, causing you to pick the same thing she did, causing her order them right away.

“How does it taste?”, Nilou asked after watching you take your first bite, only for a smile to appear on her face once again when saw your subconscious smile and you told her you liked it, happy to see you happy.

Jean

While there were many people in the knights of Favonius and Mondstadt that tried to convince their acting Grandmaster to not overwork herself too much, most of their attempts failed, and the ones that succeeded only did so for a day or two max. So, when Jean actually began trying to end her work or take breaks long enough to spend a bit of time with you, people around her couldn’t help but be surprised to say the least.

Your outings wouldn’t be long, consistint of small walks through the city with maybe a shop visit or two every once and again, during which you made sure no one bothered her with unimportant requests. And while your conversations sometimes had the semblance of professionality, other times the two of you talked about whatever came to your minds.

“Even a short walk outside does wonders after sitting in an office for a few hours”, you stated out loud once the two of you returned to Jean’s office. While you had your own office with your own work waiting for you to come back, you figured that accompanying the acting Grandmaster back to her office wouldn’t ruin your schedule too much. And while you certainly planed on leaving her to work on her own after just a few minutes, that quickly changed when your eyes landed on a small novel on top of her desk.

“Ah- Lisa must have left it here the last time she paid me a visit”, Jean quickly lied once she realised you were staring at the romance novel she had read in a small break and forgot to put away before agreeing to meet you, only for the embarrassment she felt to be joined by the feeling of shame about lying to you and using her friend as a scapegoat, but at the same time she couldn’t help but fear what you’d think of her if you knew the truth.

“Oh okay, makes sense. But you should try and give it a read, I know it looks like a cheesy romance novel, but I personally thought that it’s actually pretty good”, you responded after walking over to her desk and taking the novel into your hands, only to hand it to a still red Jean.

For a few moments, Jean had no idea what to say. Your words were almost exactly the same she’d use if she had to try to convince another person to pick it up, and while she couldn’t help but feel even more embarrassed because of it, another part of her felt really happy about it.

“Thank you for the recommendation, I will give it a read if I find the time for it”, she told another white-lie, only for her heart to skip a beat when she saw your smile widen because of her.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #nilou x you #nilou x y/n #gi nilou #nilou x reader #jean x y/n #jean genshin impact #jean x reader #jean x you #jean gunnhildr #jean gunnhildr x reader

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sparkle-heart-anon · 1 year

Text

Beg For Me

Summary: Riden and Alosa find themselves in a standoff as to who can be more stubborn. And of course, there is only one way to solve that

Fandom: Daughter of the Pirate King

Pairing: Alosa x Riden

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Fluffy Smut and Swearing

His smug face.

God damn, his smug face.

Part of me wanted to punch him in that annoying, insufferable, smug face.

But another part of me wanted to kiss him – needed to kiss him. Needed him.

“Tell me, Lass,” the nickname rolled off his tongue. He stood from his chair, and in a single, long stride stood in front of me. Leaning down, his lips were inches from my ear, his voice low and gravely. “Tell me what you want me to do.” I could hear the smile on his face – that insufferably smug smile. “Beg for me, Lass.”

I swallowed hard, trying to regain my composure, trying not to feed into his ego any more than I already had. Silently, I prayed he couldn’t see the deep flush of my face, but I knew if I could feel it, he could see it.

His fingers danced on my hip, tentatively rubbing his fingers in circles right over my hip bone. “Do you want this, Lass?”

Biting my lip, my brain searched for an answer. Fuck, I wanted this But I also couldn’t stand to feed his ego any more.

“Alosa, have you forgotten how to use your siren voice?” He removed his face from my ear, so his deep brown eyes bored into mine. Gold flecks glittered along his iris, shining brightly with his fucking smug face. Good God, that face.

“I know how to use it just fine,” my voice was harsher than it intended. Trying to backtrack, I wanted to look desirable for him. I wanted to be in control. Wanted to make him squirm like he always made me. “But do you? I want to hear you beg, Riden.”

His eyebrows raised for a moment – but that Goddamn smirk did not drop.

“Really, Lass? You think you can make me scream? Do you want me on my knees? Because last time I found myself there, I think you were the one begging.”

Before I could say anything, he swiftly sank to his knees, staring up at me from those impossibly thick eyelashes. Gently, his fingers rested on my bare knee, the hem of my skirt resting just above it.

“If you’re going to be this insufferable,” I said to him, trying to keep my composure, trying not to admit just how fucking much I wanted this – I needed this, “at least put your mouth to good use.”

“Oh don’t worry, Lass.” He pressed a kiss to the inside of my knee. Fuck. Slowly, his mouth inched up further, while his hand bunched up my skirt. “Be a good girl and hold this for me.” His lips were still pressed to the soft skin of my thighs, his voice rumbling through me and going straight to my aching center.

As he handed me the fabric of my skirt, he intertwined his fingers with mine. Pausing for a moment, he looked up at me, our eyes meeting. His smirk had dropped, his eyes looking at me with pure adoration. “I love you, Alosa. I don’t think I will ever stop loving you.”

I crouched down, capturing my lips with his. As insufferable as his smirks were, his kisses were sweeter than honey, delicate and gentle, as though he worried he would break me. And in a single kiss, I felt more endearing love than I had ever felt in my life before him.

With him, I could be soft. With him, moments could be tender. I no longer needed to spend every second of every day protecting myself.

With him, I could unravel.

We broke apart, the softness lingering in his voice. “Do you want me here? Or do we want to go to your bed?”

Oh right. I was supposed to be coming down to the empty brig to make sure we had enough supplies if we were to run into any unsavory characters as we searched for our next treasure. Riden had been tucked away in a corner, cleaning his swords, trying to get a moment of peace and quiet. And while we were currently secluded behind crates of food, there was no lock, and anyone could come down here, looking for either one of us.

Going back to my room would have been the smart choice. The safe choice. But honestly, I couldn’t wait another moment for Riden to touch me. And besides, no one was supposed to be coming down looking for me for a while.

So I had no choice but to beg. “Please, Riden, please touch me. I need you.”

“Your voice is so sweet, Lass.” His smirk returned, ever so pleased with himself. “It’s even sweeter when it’s begging for me.”

Handing me the rest of my skirts and petticoats, his fingers danced to my inner thigh before running over the crotch of my underwear.

“Green,” he whispered, his breath tickling my thighs. “My favorite color. Did you wear them just for me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I laughed, but quickly found myself biting my lip as he ran his fingers over my sensitive nub. He moved his fingers in the repetitive circular motion, just the way I taught him, and I could feel a moan slip from my mouth.

“Really?” he asked. “Don’t flatter myself? Because you’re awfully wet for me, Lass. So I find myself quite flattered. In just a few minutes I can do this to you.” He moved his fingers through my folds, prompting me to let you a shaky breath.

He switched to a more serious voice. “Is this okay, though? Can I touch you?”

“Please,” my voice shook. “Please, Riden. I need you.” God, I wanted him so bad. And even though I said I wasn’t going to beg, I found myself back in this familiar position, begging for Riden. This, I thought, is why his ego is so damn big. But I couldn’t help but always find myself begging for him.

Slowly, he pushed one finger in, then another, curling them slightly. As he slowly pumped them in and out, he used his thumb to rub slow circles around my clit. Within moments, he found a perfect rhythm, and even better, that perfect spot.

A moan ripped from my lips, and I instantly brought my hand up to my mouth to quiet myself, dropping the fabric of my skirt.

I felt him pull away, prompting me to whimper from the loss. “Riden?” I looked down, and again that fucking smug face looked up at me.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said, standing up to meet me, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. “Don’t quiet yourself, Alosa. I want to hear you – hear your lovely siren cries.”

“Someone might hear us,” I worried. But without his hands on me, the desire I felt was mounting, starting not to care if someone heard me.

“Let them hear,” he whispered, before pressing his lips to my neck, lightly grasping my flesh with his teeth. “Let them hear how good I can make you feel, Alosa. Let them hear how much I can enchant my siren. My love.”

His fingers found their way back between my legs. Grasping the fabric of my underwear, he pushed it down, giving him full unfettered access. And he returned to that perfect rhythm. Each time I let out another cry, it seemed to encourage him even more, getting him to move faster, more precisely – as though I was a puzzle only he knew how to solve.

My moans got louder and louder in spite of myself, and I could feel that wonderful pressure building in the bottom of my stomach.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Riden,” I pleaded.

“I’m right here, my love.” He quickened his pace, the way his fingers curled around me, sending me over the edge. Wave of pleasure rushed and crashed over me, my moans falling from my lips like raindrops from the sky.

With him, I unravelled.

Completely and totally, I unravelled.

My fingers dug into his bicep as I came, my voice shivering, my mind going absolutely blank as my body filled with nothing but pleasure. Well, pleasure and love.

My legs shook, refusing to support me any longer. But Riden and I had found ourselves in moments like these before, and he knew me – knew every inch of me. And he knew that after I came, my legs often shook so hard I could hardly stand. His arm wrapped around my waist, supporting me, as I buried my face in the crook of his neck, smelling the strong scent of his cologne as I tried to catch my breath.

“Fuck,” I groaned when I finally could breathe. “Holy fuck, Riden. How do you make me feel so good?”

Although my face was still buried in his neck, I could hear the smug look return to his face. But there was still softness and tenderness to his words, to the way he held me, so close as though he was worried I would break away. “You make it easy, Lass. When you beg for me, I know exactly what you want. You have the most beautiful voice.”

He pressed a kiss to the crown of my head and just held me like that for a moment.

In moments like these, I felt so completely overwhelmed by the love that Riden showed me – that he had for me. Not only could he see me in soft, tender moments like this, but he actively sought them out. He was probably the only one in all the seas and on all the land that could bring out this side of me. And for him, I wanted to show it wholly.

He loved my voice – not as a tool for him to use and manipulate, but because through it, he could know if he was making me happy, if he was making me feel good. My voice was not something he could control, or even sought to. It was not something he wanted power from, or to use to hurt others. The wonderful noises he made me produce, he did so out of nothing but love for me.

And for that, I was able to unravel around him.

“I love you,” I whispered to him, before capturing his lips with mine, pulling him closer to me, if that was even possible.

“I love you more than you can ever know, Alosa.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Now why don’t we get you something to eat?”

“Oh crap,” I laughed. “I was supposed to be calculating our food stores for the brig. Mandy is going to be so mad at me for taking so long.”

“Let her be mad.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “We can just spend another moment together.”

In my heart, I knew. We would be spending many more moments together, just as tender and raw as this.

I loved him. Smug face and all.

#daughter of the pirate king #riden x alosa #alosa x riden #daughter of the pirate king smut #riden x alosa smut #alosa x riden smut #daughter of the siren queen #daughter of the siren queen smut #tricialevenseller #tricia levenseller #sparkle heart writes

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