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sun-snatcher · 2 months

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YOUR MEDIC!READER X JET HAS BREATHED LIFE INTO ME. MAKE THEM HOLD HANDS. I BEG. THE PINING IS INSANE. The atla jet fandom is DRY so you're doing god's work out here 😭 😭 (Or anything tbh! I'm absolutely in love with your writing 😭❤️)

🌾 ・ HAND IN LOVING HAND

summ. Jet comes into a dawning realisation. It starts with a mission gone wrong. pairing. Jet x f!medic!reader w.count. 0.7k ( just a blurb! ) a/n. Ask and you shall receive! I’m so glad you love medic!reader as much as I do!

He figures, later, that it might have started with Operation: Creeping Cricket.

Courtesy to Smellerbee for the unique mission name, ofcourse.

That had involved, to date: A handful of Freedom Fighters itching for a fight, an imprisoned pair of orphan twins they’d planned to break out, a couple of dumb Fire Nation spies, and the leaky walls they called the borders of Omashu.

Except, ofcourse, it wouldn’t be a mission without a series of unfortunate events, of which occurred: a storm that changed Sneers’ accurately-predicted course of said Fire Nation spies, which meant their little hostages that they’d come to rescue would be headed down a different path, which also meant their traps lining on the trail towards the borders of Omashu— that The Duke had spent a frustratingly long amount of time setting up— would be rendered useless.

They settled on a brute force ambush instead, much to your disdain; you were, after all, a better healer than you were a fighter.

“This was a terrible—!” You pause to dodge a burst of white hot flames from a Fire Nation soldier. The rain is quick to dampen their efforts, luckily for you. “This was a terrible plan, Jet!”

He strains to hear you underneath the torrent. “Don’t blame me, Pipsqueak started it! Duck!”

You duck. Another spy crumples behind you, thanks to the swing of Jet’s tiger blades, and as the soldier lands on the ground— that’s when you notice it; the quaking rumble of earth, the jumping of stones.

Earth Kingdom Guards have caught wind.

In the distance, Longshot produces a birdcall from high above— shrill and piercing, one that’s rarely ever been used amongst the rebellion— a warning. Retreat. The Freedom Fighters are outnumbered. Scatter.

The ground erupts beneath you, and you scream. You practically sweep Jet off his feet as you snatch his hand and take off to higher ground to avoid the rising tempest. Hot on your heels, both of you can feel the snap and crackle of roots tearing deep underneath as the kingdom guards begin their manhunt.

“Quick!” you urge, as he trips over his footing. You glance at him over your shoulder, giving him a squeeze in your intertwined fingers as you check, “Hey, you hurt?”

“I— uh, no,” he stumbles, for some reason. Nothing but superficial cuts and bruises, anyway. He’ll live. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

It could’ve been minutes or an hour of just running, he isn’t quite sure— he’s too busy noting how your hands fit awfully perfect against his, and how despite the rain and muck, you still managed to look... collected. (Collected, he thinks, because he refused to admit anything unforgivably romantic.) Jet lets himself be led across the maze of woodland and grass, and catches himself wondering whether the hand holding had been a conscious move at all.

At the time, he’d decided it didn’t matter.

It shouldn’t, Jet had reasoned to himself, as you tugged him underneath an overhang and into a hidden crevice. Beyond the roguish charm and borderline flirtatious jokes he liked to play at— both of you were, at the end of the day, amidst an unending war. You were the Rebellions’ resident medic, and he was their token leader. There was no time to entertain fairytales and pipedreams.

“I think we lost them,” you pant, peeking over. “Do you think the others are okay?”

Jet looks at you, fights back the urge to tuck the rain-wet strands of your hair behind your ear so he can see your face better; how the light hits your profile and sets your eyes alight, down to the tip of your nose, and to your mud-stained cheeks. Collected. Capable, he reminds himself. Not pretty. Not pretty. Not—

“What’s wrong?” you ask, when you’d caught his gaze. “Jet?”

“Ah. Uh, nothing,” he blinks away— too fast; too quick to hide the obvious lie. “The others can handle themselves. Let’s, let’s wait for the storm to pass.”

This is simply camaraderie, he’d convinced himself, and stifled down the barb of disappointment that crept in him when you were the first to finally let go.

Right?

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hanasnx · 2 months

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branding.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: jet is aged up if that wasn't already obvious | credit to @xstarkillerx for helping develop this idea as well as giving me the branding with his hook specifically idea WARNINGS: branding | consensual burning and temperature play | less about suggestive and sexual content and more about psychological exploration.

JET has a branding kink. The brain has a funny way of twisting trauma into pleasure, rewiring neural pathways to take control of horrible circumstances and painful memories. Jet’s past with the fire nation and losing everything he knew in one fell swoop meant his mind was forever scarred by fire and what it’s capable of. It bleeds into his sex life whether he's aware of its connection or not.

You lay pliant on his bed of furs, naked and waiting as his large hand strokes down your back, the calluses of his fingertips dragging across and catching on your skin. You prickle with anticipation as he takes his sweet time priming you, his expression especially grim as he takes in the sights of your smooth flesh. It dips when he applies pressure, and bounces back when he eases. Supple and young, as curvaceous as a shapely hillside, virgin skin that you offer up to him.

In the firelight you've never looked more beautiful. Ethereal and quiet, obeying his desires and using your precious body to do it. Guilt creeps up from below his stomach, his sacral chakra clouded by what he's about to do to you. He doesn't care, hovering his right-handed hook into the hearth. The fire licks at the end, encompassing it with its warmth, and its every brushstroke paints the metal gold.

His nails dig into you, scraping down to groove temporary marks, and your whimper quirks his brow. "Can you handle it this time?" he asks, his voice low and kind.

"Mhm." you insist with a nod, your head resting on your piled arms. "Promise, chief, I can handle it." He drags his bottom lip through his teeth

The weight of the metal weighs his arm as he swings it over. The sheer heat radiates off it, as if a little heartbeat pulses the air around it, sunning your back as it nears. "I'm gonna hold you down." he warns, preparing you for his grip on the base of your neck, pinning you to the furs as the air gets hotter and hotter. "Breathe." You do as he says, sucking in a breath until the hook kisses your shoulder blade in a searing hot pain. Squeezing your eyes shut, a squeal is ripped from your throat, crying out over the unimaginable pain. Jet faithfully holds you down, stamping that brand on you for seconds but it felt much longer to you. Tears well and spill just as quickly as they came, your toes curl and flex, anything to release some energy. "Almost... almost, my love, be strong." he coaches you, but it does nothing to quell your expected reaction. Seconds feels like minutes and he releases you, dropping the hook into a bucket of water that splashes over the edge.

Much like the air from before, that little heartbeat has transferred to your shoulder blade, pulsing the pain throughout your body as the heat is trapped inside you. As you cry and writhe, Jet does what he knows to soothe you, running assuaging palms up and down the rest of your body, sensationalizing you with pleasant tingles while you fight your own wound to touch it. Every time you get close, your fingertips brushing the brand, your flinch, causing yourself more pain even though you're trying to comfort it with soft pressure.

Sobs wrack through you, and Jet marvels you proudly. "Now you're a real Freedom Fighter, forever." The shape of his hook gracing your once-virgin skin, and he eyes it hungrily. That burn in his chest is satiated for a little bit longer, until the next time.

#indy: drabbles #ch: jet #jet drabble #jet x reader #jet x fem reader #jet x you #jet x y/n #jet imagine #jet fic #jet fanfic #jet fanfiction #atla jet #jet atla #atla x reader #atla x you #atla imagine #atla fic #atla fanfic #atla fanfiction

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1-8oo-wtfbro · 1 year

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“the blue spirit? do u mean lee from the tea shop’s secret boyfriend? we see him coming in the window at the craziest times of night.”

“i wonder if his uncle knows”

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cigarettesandcoffeex · 2 months

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LITERALLY WHY ARE THERE NO JET FAN FICTIONS YET?!?!? GET TO WORK PEOPLE!!

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purinfelix · 4 months

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"scratchy"

pairing: gavi x reader (established relationship) summary: you love your boyfriend's new look, but it proves a slight challenge when it comes to kisses warnings: none! w/c: 712

a/n: when i made this post abt this idea after seeing the pics at first i wasn't expecting so many ppl to like it 😭 ... so i'm really hoping i did it justice !!! pls enjoy !!!

taglist for this fic! (love u all <3): @gadriezmannsgirl @emz2092 @spidybaby @goldenalbon @gavisuntiedboot @zowanew

“Baby,” you cooed, trying your best to sound apologetic and not burst into a fit of giggles at the sight of your boyfriend standing at the corner of your bed like a sad puppy. The pet name only seemed to make things worse though, his pout deepening as he shrugged off your attempts to use affection to win him back.

With a soft sigh, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows so you could look at him properly - and so he could properly see the remorse and guilt on your face.

”I already said I’m sorry,” your tone was soft - at least as soft as you could manage whilst holding back laughter at how adorable he looked - “please just come back to bed so I can make it up to you.”

“I can’t believe you pulled away from my kiss.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Did you not want it?” his brows were furrowed in confusion as if the concept of you dodging his show of love was genuinely puzzling to him. It was equal parts endearing and heart-breaking.

”It’s not that, it’s just that …” you trailed off, eyes already busy scanning your boyfriend’s face. All of his familiarly handsome features laid bare for you, his deep brown eyes looking at you with an intensity that could only be accompanied by his perfect lips which were twisted into a frown.

Still, you couldn’t help but let your faze drift to the most recent addition to his look - a tiny bit of stubble that dotted his jawline and upper lip. You hadn’t really noticed how dark his facial hair had gotten until just now, when he had swooped in for a kiss and the short hair had scratched against your face. It was an odd feeling, to say the least, and you had pulled back without thinking much of it, your face twisted into an expression of discomfort.

You were brought back to the current time when your boyfriend cleared his throat, urging you to continue your explanation.

“It’s just that,” you pause for a moment to let his brows raise in curiosity, “your facial hair - it’s a bit scratchy.”

At your confession, his accusatory stance dropped as his shoulder drooped slightly. “I thought you liked it though,” he said in a tiny quiet voice, not even looking up at you as he said it.

You hurried to assure him. “I do! I think it makes you look more mature, more manly, more …” you paused once more, searching for just the right word to express your appreciation for his new look, ”more handsome.”

This seemed to do the trick, as a sheepish smile spread across his face before he lunged onto the bed beside you. He buried his face into his pillow, both to stifle a fit of boyish giggles and to hide the pink blush your compliment had caused. You couldn’t help yourself from running a hand through his hair, before cupping his face and pulling it gently to face you. Instinctively he leant in for a kiss with his passionate roughness and you had to stop him once more.

“Gently,” you reminded him, not needing to speak much louder given how close his face was to yours. He understood you perfectly though, moving smoothly with a gentle tentativeness as he connected his lips to yours, cautiously avoiding rubbing his facial hair against your face. He let out a satisfied hum, almost melting into the kiss he had been waiting so long for.

Finally, though, your lips parted as he pulled away - eager to ask another question.

“You really don’t mind the beard?” he withdrew the hand that had been previously wrapped around your waist to rub at his own jaw.

“I don’t know if I’d call it a beard just yet baby, but I do like it. I’d like you with any look,” you assured him with a soft giggle.

“What if I went bald?”

A slight pause as you thought. “Maybe not.”

Gavi only chuckled at this, pulling you in once more for another kiss - and you didn’t have to remind him this time as he kissed you with such gentleness it made your heart flutter purely with how precious it made you feel.

#pablo gavi #gavi x reader #gavi x you #gavi fluff #gavi oneshot #gavi imagine #gavi fanfic #football #fc barcelona #fanfic #football fanfic #purinfelix #jet writes ★

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candle-scm · 2 months

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my takeaway from natla is that og atla zuko is hot topic flavored gay and natla zuko is barbie flavored gay

#atla #zuko #avatar the last airbender #natla zuko really does give YOU RUINED MY DREAM JOURNAL #thinking of natla as a weird fanfic that occasionally has some oddly clever ideas #but drops the ball pretty often #makes it a lot of fun #spoilers below #we fucking died when it was revealed that jet was going to actually blow up the mechanist and bumi #like its so bizarre and weird and hilarious #even typing it out i cant believe thats a real thing #we're only on episode 3 and i'm excited to see the other wacky shenanigans #natla #natla spoilers

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azu1as · 1 year

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dumb atla fanfic idea: instead of jet simply stalking zuko and iroh in ba sing se. he convinces a merchant (jet definitely has the charisma to spare) to convert his stall into a tea shop. he's now rivals with iroh's teashop.

#jet is inexplicably really good at making tea #i found this in my 2020 drafts and I have no idea where I was going with it #jet #zuko #atla #dumb atla fanfic ideas

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mothwithpronouns · 3 months

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I do believe he made it worse

#Danger days #my chemical romance #mcr #danger days fanfic #fabulous killjoys #party poison #fun ghoul #kobra kid #jet star

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count-horror-xx · 2 months

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BRO IM BEGGING SOMEONE WRITE FICS FOR LIVE ACTION JET FROM ATLA 🙏🙏🙏 HES SO FINE 😩🗣🗣

#HES SO BAD #atla #avatar: tla #avatar #jet atla #jet avatar #atla jet #avatar the last airbender #atla fanfic #atla fics #avatar fanfiction #avatar fics #fics #fanfics #fanfic #fanfiction

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starstoldmeso · 5 months

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we all love a good desert-born jet star but give me REAL desert-born jet star. give me jet star who uses so much zone slang, the ex city kids can barely understand what she’s saying. give me jet star who never learned how to read. give me jet star without any understanding of domestic life. give me mannerless jet star. give me jet star who can hit any target with her gun in either hand but can barely hold a pencil. give me climatized jet star who can’t handle anything cold. give me jet star getting culture shocked when she has to go into the city with poison ghoul and kobra to save the girl. give me protector jet star who’s been fighting for her family since she learned how to walk. give me real. born and raised in the desert. wild animal. killjoy. jet star!!!

#yes i’m writing something with all of these headcanons in it #stay tuned #danger days #killjoys #ttlotfk #jet star #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #killjoy headcanons #killjoys hc #killjoys fanfic #danger days headcanons

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bearsandbeansart · 6 months

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He’s gone to the one place he knows he can be alone; the roof above his balcony. Servants won’t think to find him here. Maybe Zuko won’t either. So he sits alone, and without his tiger blades. Jet thinks if he sees them, the temptation might be too great. Mixed with the rotten churning of his mind is a steep homesickness; not just for the familiar territories of his homeland, but for the simpler time of living in the trees of Gaipan Forest. The struggles faced there, though more tangible and threatening than anything here, are something he’d much rather come up against than this. “Jet?” A voice from below. Of course. Jet scowls, and says nothing, but remains where he is.

It's cool if you don't like Jetko, just please keep those opinions off this post.

#sooz draws things #sooz writes things #jetko #jet atla #zuko #atla jet #the break in the bend #atla fanart #atla fanfic #atla #jetko fanfic

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sun-snatcher · 2 months

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🌾 ・ OF CLARION CALLS

summ. The rebellion runs into trouble, & Jet takes the brunt of it. In the aftermath, you fight to keep him alive. pairing. Jet x f!medic!reader w.count. 1.5k a/n. So little Jet fics/imagines around so i had to take matters into my own hands. Enjoy!

The moonlight casts a halo above your head, and for a brief moment, Jet thinks you’re a divine spirit, perhaps a goddess— or whatever it is his mother used to read to him before bed.

( In some ways, you are. )

…Jet, he hears, distant. He can’t pinpoint exactly where— every sound is either muffled or echoing, and the world keeps tipping in and out of a blur. All he can sense through the haze is the belt of dull pain creeping up his chest, and the cotton-numbness engulfing his head. Right. He’d been shot clean through his armor plate by a wayward arrow after he’d jumped infront of Sneers to protect him. He remembers now, vaguely. It had been an ambush on their way home.

...et, stay with me.

Jet.

“Jet!”

The world focuses. He inhales, sharp, and the pain blinds him white as he gasps.

“Easy there, handsome,” you joke (not really), holding his twitching body down and trying to meet his dazed look. The blood is thick enough to taste, and one look is enough to tell he’s walking a tightrope between life or death. He's growing colder, and losing colour by the minute. You make quick work to staunch the gaping wound in his chest, hope he can’t detect the shakiness in your hands, or the tears gathering in your eyes. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Will he?” comes a voice behind the two medics crowding him. It’s Smellerbee, standing at the step of the medical tent; her voice sounds uncharacteristically frightened, and it sends a pang through your heart. I’m fine, Jet instinctively wants to insist, but you answer for him instead. “Yes. He will." ( And, well, surely such a small deception would not count against you, not when it was meant to give the others some measure of peace. )

Jet blinks, finally orienting himself enough to look at you and not through you— and blinks again. You’re lying. He could feel it. He could always tell, whenever it comes to you.

…Stay, he thinks, suddenly and senselessly, and clasps his bloodied hand around your wrist. He calls your name, voice straining in pain. But he must’ve said it aloud instead, because you’d smiled at him as gently as you could— even when it looked as if the effort of doing so would wound you— and said, calmly, convincingly: I promise, I’m not going anywhere.

“With me?” he asks, again, even when he knows he must’ve sounded like a madman. Perhaps it’s the bloodloss. Likely, it was. It wouldn’t be such a bad end, though, so long as you stood by his side. He wants to tell you this— been wanting to for a long time, now— but the strength has left him, leaving him floating somewhere between the world of waking and dreaming.

“With you,” comes your reply.

You catch the ghost of his trademark smile just before he slips away.

Jet survives.

That’s the first surprise.

The second is that; you’re here. Just as you’d promised.

He must have been out for longer than he thinks, because the atmosphere in the medical tent seemed to have ebbed to something much more conducive than last he remembers. The tinctures of alcohol and sedatives surrounding him and his bloody bandages that night are now replaced with dry ingredients; yarrow half-crushed in a mortar and pestle, mixed herbs and colourful liquids corked in tiny bottles and tins he couldn’t begin to name. His armour had been stripped from him, lying above a chest by the corner.

Ever the leader; “Sneers,” is the first word out his mouth, once he’d stirred awake on his cot and recognition returned slowly to him. It’s early sometime in the morning, judging by the colour of the sky outside the tattered tent flaps and the still quietness in the air. Beside him, an incense of sandalwood burns. “Sneers—”

“Is alive, thanks to you,” you override. The faint bitterness in your voice is not lost on him.

Somehow, someway, seeing him conscious now seemed to make you bristle. You think— no, you know— that it’s unfair of you; that it’s simply the pent-up frustrations and stress overflowing from the night he’d been hauled back to camp with one foot in the grave. But Longshot’s harrowing clarion call for a medic from the trees still rings clear as a bell in your head, just as much as the cold shock that had seized you the moment you realised the birdcall was for Jet.

“Good.”

“Not good,” you correct, “Not when you of all people pay the price.”

( Jet doesn’t delude himself into thinking that there could possibly be another meaning to what you said. It would be impossible. ) “You would’ve done the same,” he bites back, and takes your silence as quiet agreement.

“You’re upset,” Jet points out, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

A sigh. “You just woke up,” you dismiss, if only to get him off your scent. “We can talk another day.”

“We’re already here, so let’s settle it now. The mission went well, and as far as I can see, I’m the only one in here, which means nobody else got hurt on the way back but me. Atleast, not as badly.”

It’s a debrief, you recognise. A coping mechanism for him— to spur himself into action and settle himself. Given the stress and trauma his body has been enduring the past days, you let it pass.

It’s only when you shift out from your seat by his cot, standing to begin putting away the bowls of medicine prepared, that Jet realises your fingers had been holding his wrist before. You must have stayed up for, what he can only imagine to be long nights, to keep track on whether his pulse was still beating. ( Something inside his chest burns. He can’t tell if it’s your doing or the injury being fussy. )

“I’m sorry,” he huffs, sighing out. “If that’s what you wanna hear.”

“For what?” You set the mortar down on your table with more force than necessary, and looked at him sharply from over your shoulder. Jet, damn him, still looks at you straight in the eyes, confident as ever. You want to kiss him. You want to break his nose. “For being a hero?”

“No.”

“Playing martyr?”

“No.”

“For saving Sneers? Everyone?”

“No—”

“Then what?”

“For scaring you,” he says, simply.

Your heart starts.

A frisson runs through you, and you feel the back of your eyes begin to burn.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” he emphasises, and doesn’t say, I’m sorry I made you cry, because your prideful self would have denied it instantly, even if he remembers it clear as day. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

He yanks at a loose thread on the blanket you’d laid on him a night ago. It must have been terrifying to see him be dragged to the table, half-dead with a broken arrow in his chest, and leave a mess of blood and horror in his wake. It must have been terrifying, indeed, to be the one responsible for him against Death itself— to carry the weight of his life on your shoulders, while the rest of the Freedom Fighters watched on.

“It’s, it’s my job,” you turn away to close a drawer of medical instruments, because you’re not quite sure you can stand meeting his gaze. Not when it only reminds you of just how much he lived, breathed and bleeds chaos and revolution; not when you know this accident definitely won’t be the last.

You can’t handle him. Or maybe it’s yourself you can’t handle, when it comes to him. “Just, be careful.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he salutes mockingly, albeit with a wince. The flinch is what kicks you back into action.

“You’re staying in bed until you’re better,” you order, curt, ignoring his groan. His wrapped shoulder still seems painfully defiant despite all the numbing you’d given him; it would be a couple of weeks longer before he’d be fully healed, but knowing Jet— he’ll be up performing duties within a week. “That means no strain at all. No scouting or recon or hunting, got it?”

He lulls his head, but there’s a dash of humour on his face. “Since I’m bedridden, does that mean you’re at my every beck and call, then?”

Your face twists. He lets out a laugh when you answer, "In your dreams, Jet."

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

You roll your eyes, though without heat, and place a bowl of fresh water by his side. There is, at the very least, a smile on your face, and Jet’s sure he can sleep well tonight knowing you both are, at the end of the day, okay.

“Hey,” he calls your name, once you've begun making your way out the tent. You try to ignore how much more sweeter it sounds coming from him. “I really am sorry. I’m serious.”

He had caught your sleeve when he spoke, so your fingers now brush against his. You try not to focus on the touch too much. “So am I.”

“We can’t lose you, Jet,” you continue, unsteady; because saying I can’t lose you would have been unthinkable.

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kawaiichibiart · 2 months

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Some of my favorite "Zuko Joins the Gang Early" tropes:

His hair grows really fucking fast, so he disguises himself as a pretty lady

Meets Dadkoda earlier

He doesn't tell Aang the outfit he stole is a school uniform (either he forgot, didn't know or straight up just didn't want to make Aang sad)

One of Aang's pretend parents (keyword, parent, remember: pretty lady disguise)

He and Katara become besties earlier

Is the only one who understands Aang while he's sleep deprived (experience)

Had to leave Iroh behind (unwillingly)

Quickly becomes the group heater

DRAGONS (early visit to the Sun Warriors)

On Hama's shit list (gets bloodbent and imprisoned)

Return of the Blue Spirit

REVOLT IN THE NAME OF THE TRUE FIRELORD!!! FIRELORD ZUKO!!!

WHY THE FUCK IS YOUR FIRE GAY- I MEAN A RAINBOW?! ,

#zuko #atla #zuko joins the gaang early #i genuinely can't remember where the ''disguises himself as a pretty lady'' came from #like i know it was from a fanfic #but that's about it #i can't remember which one #where it is #if it's still up #i want to say zukka but it very well could have been zukki or jet x sokka x zuko as well #all i remember is zuko basically deciding 'im gonna be a woman while we hide'

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soulless-bex · 11 months

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pjo x mcu au where nick fury learns about the mythological world and, in exchange for being gifted with clearsight (because he’s nick fury and not being able to see/know everything is making his paranoia worse), he gives the demigods their own subdivision of shield with the fundings that comes with to take care of mythological threats

did i mention that fury gets to have little to no control over said subdivision? like, he knows what they’re doing, but he knows better than to tell them what to do

cue the avengers being exceedingly frustrated when everyone refuses to tell them what the new shield department is for, and even more so when percy (who is obviously the head of the department what do you mean) starts to tell them (read: order) to leave his team alone

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ao3statistics · 2 months

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This is self-made. Date: 15.03.2024

Please note that the fandom "The Legend of Korra" and its ships were NOT included. I might make another chart for that fandom separately though.

I assume no guarantee or liability for the completeness, correctness and accuracy of this chart despite my best efforts.

Includes fanfictions in all languages available, NOT English only.

Percentages were rounded up or rounded down to natural numbers for easier comprehension.

Poly ships were not included.

More charts will follow. :)

Want to have a chart for different pairings, headcanons etc. in your favourite fandom? Send me an ask!

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purinfelix · 2 months

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plsplsplspslpsl write calling bf barca boys (pedri, fermin, joao) + jude bellingham "bro"

"bro"

featuring: pedri, fermin, joao, gavi (i had to include my bby sorryyy!) and jude warnings: teensy bit cringe at times, be warned ...

a/n: once again apologising for being ia, but an eternal thank you to anon and every one else who's still interacting with me and sending me requests!! trying my best to get through them, thank you all for your patience <333

You don’t remember how it had happened honestly, the two of you had just been hanging out in his bedroom, a situation you had come to find comfort in since its frequency had become almost like a routine to the two of you. The air outside was cool, giving the two of you an excuse to curl up together under the blanket and binge watch episodes of your favourite show in a comfortable silence. That was, of course, until you heard the chime of your phone - causing you to perk up out of your boyfriends arms.

“Bro, could you get that for me?”

Pedri

Honestly he doesn’t think much of it at first, since your guys’ relationship has always been pretty casual in the way that you both trust each other enough not to overreact. He reckons that it probably slipped out by accident, and given that it’s what most of his teammates and friends call him, he doesn’t react that much. Sure, he noticed it, and filed it away to the back of his mind as a sign that you might be mad with him but he’s a pretty calm boyfriend only offers an amused eyebrow raise.

It’s only when he leans over and grabs your phone do you realise what you’ve said - but only decide to double down on it to get a reaction out of him.

“Thanks bro,” you say as nonchalantly as you can manage when he hands you your phone, immediately going to respond to whatever message had caused the notification sound. And at first it seems like he’s not going to indulge your obvious bait for a reaction - of course until you hear the rustle of bed sheets and his strong arm snake around your waist.

He lets out a soft mumble that roughly translates to - “What is it baby?” - as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in a loving, yet almost pleading manner. It doesn’t take long for you to give in to his charms.

“I’m only messing with you,” you giggle, patting the top of his head reassuringly.

Fermin

If there’s one thing you know about Fermin, it’s that he’s observant. However, another thing about him is that he’s a sly little shit. So whenever he feels he can sense you trying to prod at his temper it only ends in him serving you back your own attitude.

“Of course, bro,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at him as he turns to grab your phone, you can tell he has a wide smirk spread across his face.

You only give him a knowing look, and try your best to maintain your composure while stifling your laughter - but the minute he drops your phone into your hands you know he’s not going to back down on this.

“Thanks, dude,” you quip.

“Any time, my man.”

Silence, and you’re trying to figure out your next comeback while ignoring the weird way him calling you ‘my man’ made you feel. You feel oddly stupid for starting a game you know you couldn’t keep up with, but luckily your boyfriend has already caught wind of this by the look of amusement on his face.

“Something wrong, mate?” he chuckles as he leans over to peck your lips that you hadn’t realised had formed a pout. All you can do is sigh in faux-exhaustion before erupting into a fit of laughter.

Joao

It’s only once he’s reached over to grab your phone, that he clocks the odd new nickname. Immediately, but silently, his mind starts racing through the possible reasons as to why you’ve bestowed it upon him - did he do something wrong? He did only kiss you twice before leaving for training that morning, and he did accidentally move away from you when the two of you were cuddling earlier. He’s worried, but he’s also up to play your game if need be.

His grip on your phone tightens, and you hear his voice low, daring - “What was that darling?”

You truly meant it as an accident this time, and he manages to snap you out of it with his words. “Oh, sorry, babe,” you correct yourself and he nods as if to silently say that’s better.

You get your phone from him, and a quick kiss on the cheek before he settles back to wrapping his arms around you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck so he can look at your phone next to you.

Gavi

Whilst something like being called “bro” might not matter to most other guys, it definitely did to your boyfriend. His reaction to your words was immediate, his head whipping up from where he had been laying beside you, eyes round and pleading.

“What?” his voice was quiet, almost unbelieving and you had to try your best not to laugh at how dramatic your boyfriend’s reaction was. Still, a small chuckle escapes your lips, only making you feel worse as a small pout forms from his lips.

“Sorry, it slipped out,” you reassure him, reaching up a hand to stroke his cheek lovingly. He furrows his brows as if to pose the question - are you sure? But you only take this as a sign to mess with him, just a little more.

“What, you don’t like me calling you bro?” You’ve completely forgotten about your phone at this point.

“No, definitely not.” He’s oddly serious when he says this, but this only adds to how amused you are by this situation.

“Alright baby,” you hum out your apology, trying your best to further express this through your thumb on his cheek - and luckily he seems to get the message. Before you know it, he’s melted back into your arms, your fingers curling lazily around his hair.

Jude

“What?”

Jude is quick with it, turning to you immediately as soon as the word leaves your mouth with an expression that makes you realise your mistake all too quickly.

“Bro?” he asks again, almost daring you to repeat it, but the shocked laugh he lets out reassures you he isn’t taking it to seriously - only getting an unfair amount of amusement from your mistake.

“Whatever, babe, there,” you say in mock-annoyance, not wanting to let him get the better of you.

“Nuh-uh, you called me bro,” he pushed, leaning in close to you, his voice teasing.

“It was an accident, okay?”

“Sure,” he hums, finally grabbing your phone and handing it to you, all the while having a stupid smirk on his face, “I’ll just have to start calling you mate or something, yeah?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you mutter through pouted lips and he finally gives up the act, settling back by your side and pecking your cheek as an apology.

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