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mead-iocre · 15 days

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Ducky Turn! | Vivianne Miedema x Reader

You watched as Viv walked into the press conference room, trailing slightly behind Jonas. She was chatting animatedly to Connie, one of the Arsenal staff, and holding a reusable coffee tumbler in one hand. You also know that inside that tumbler is Viv’s favourite coffee "Morning Bliss," a small-batch, artisanal coffee roaster that you had bought from one of the local coffee shops in your area. She would sometimes bring a small bag of coffee beans to training or match days, and when you would ask her where she’ll find supplies to make the coffee, she’ll reply back with a“if there’s a will, there’s a way”. It’s become the only brand of coffee that Viv drinks.

Every morning, Viv likes to indulge herself in what she calls her “ritual”. The dutch begins her ritual by carefully measuring out the perfect amount of Morning Bliss beans. She prefers a medium roast, with notes of caramel and toasted almonds that allow the perfect balance of sweet to the bitter. She would grind the beans to perfection and then use the fancy sleek, stainless steel drip coffee maker that she had treated herself to a few months ago. As she waits for the brewing to complete, she would bask in the stillness and the quiet that is a rarity these days– or at least during the last 3 years.

Viv would then pour herself a cup, inhaling deeply as the steam rises and the aroma fills the empty kitchen. As she takes that first sip of her perfectly brewed coffee, Viv could not help but smile. For her, starting the day than with a cup of her favourite coffee is the second best thing to start the day. The first is–

She hears the pitter patter of little feet before she sees her.

“Mama!”

Evelyn, or Evie for short, is the best parts of you and Viv. Everyone says Evelyn is a spitting image of Viv—from the blonde curls that tumble down her back in unruly waves, to her vibrant hazel eyes, flecked with hints of green and gold. Evelyn has your nose, petite and slightly upturned, and dotted with the same freckles across her cheeks that Viv loves to kiss every night before bed.

You say it’s too early to tell what kind of person your daughter will grow up to be, but Viv swears she’s your mini me. Viv says you’ve both got the same stubbornness (although you would argue Viv is also a contender), the same outgoing personality, and the same sheer curiosity for the world around her. Like you, your little girl is always eager to explore new places and try new things. Whether it's taking the dogs out on new hiking trails, or embarking on a family camping trip, her adventurous spirit knows no bounds.

During her ballet class, Evelyn loves to wear colourful ribbons and bows in her hair. She keeps the same ribbons in her hair during football practice too. When she laughs, her nose crinkles up in the most adorable way, just like Viv. She loves to burst into a song or hum the tune of her favourite music, just like you do. She is your pride and joy, and your greatest accomplishment in life.

But she is also a whirlwind of energy that leaves a trail of chaos and laughter in her wake wherever she goes.

Viv recognises that gleam in Evie’s eyes and the furrow in her eyebrows as she glances at the last two steps leading to the kitchen.

Her daughter was going to jump.

Viv hastily puts her cup down and lurches forward, catching the tornado that is her child. There is not a day that goes by where Viv does not thank her athleticism for being able to keep up with her little daredevil.

She grasps her fearless little girl under her arms just before she can land the short distance to the ground. “Mama, Ducky jump!”

“I saw that, Ducky” She settles Evelyn on her hip, pressing a few kisses to her rosy cheek still warm from sleep. “But I’d rather not see that again. How many times have I told you you can’t jump from there”

“But I jump, Mama. Like a duck jumping in water!” Ducks are the little girl’s latest fixation– she loves going to the pond to watch the ducks, she loves to talk about ducks, she loves her duck stuffed animals etc. Viv thinks your daughter’s fascination with ducks was inevitable. When Evelyn was born, she was sweetly bundled in a light yellow blanket with a matching yellow beanie to warm her little head. Your private midwife briefly commented about how Evelyn little lips were constantly pursed in a pout whenever she slept, like that of a little duckling. Ever since then, “Ducky” became one of her nicknames.

Evelyn points one little chubby finger towards the kitchen counter where a plate of bite-sized waffles await her.

“Waffles!”

Viv snags the plate of waffles off the counter and deposits her duck-obsessed child into her booster chair. She hands her a fork and takes a seat on the chair right beside her. “Waffles yellow– like duckies, Mama!”

Viv smiles endearingly at her daughter, all cherubic face and bouncy curls. “Just like duckies, Evie”

——————————

Now at the press conference, you watch as Viv and Jonas take their seats in front of the press, politely saying a few greetings to some familiar faces. Viv’s eyes meet yours briefly and she offers you a quick wink.

Jonas leans forward in his seat and starts the press. “Hello, everyone. Let’s get this started then– I’ve got Vivianne Miedema with me today”

Being married to a footballer had it’s perks– free match tickets, the cool events, club merchandise, and the occasional Adidas billboards of your wife which your daughter loves to excitedly point out every time she spots one. However, sometimes it seems not everyone understands the difference between the Viv, the mum and wife, versus Vivianne Miedema, the footballer.

“Everyone” being your toddler.

She still hasn’t fully grasped the fact that her Mama can’t be on her beck and call, especially while she is at work. At the age of 3, she can’t tell the difference between the football that she plays at school and the football that her Mama plays. To her, it’s exactly the same.

After all, during her football practice if she looks to the sidelines where the other mummies and daddies are watching and yells for her Mama, her Mama will come running. In Evie’s mind, if she wants Mama, she’ll go to Mama.

You glance down at the little girl tucked in your arms. She was all buzz and energy throughout the match, crawling from lap to lap, jumping, dancing and shouting. It was no surprise that she was starting to doze off now. You were standing off to one side of the room, leaning against the wall to support the weight resting on your front. Evie was curled up in your arms, her eyes tiredly blinking open and closed a few times. Her tiny body was limp in your arms, her breath was evening out, and just like when she first came into this world, her little rosy lips were formed into a pout.

Just like a little duckling.

But despite your soft whispers to try to and lull her to sleep, your stubborn child was determined to fight the pull of slumber. You knew she wanted to see her Mama, just as she always did after a match. It was their routine, and Evie hated breaking routines.

“First question for Jonas…” You tune out the press for a brief moment, reaching out to adjust the yellow noise cancelling headphones that were slipping off of Evelyn’s head when all of a sudden she opens her eyes and sits up in your arms. You didn’t have to guess what had woken up your child when you hear it. “– now a question for Viv Miedema…”

What was once a sleepy and tired toddler is now gone. In it’s place is a little girl who has realised her favourite person is in the room. Her eyes were now bright and alert, craning her neck to follow the sound of her mama’s voice booming from the speakers around the room.

“…don't really think I celebrate goals but all the girls came up to me and they were taking the mick out of me because they were like 'You were actually celebrating’–“

You should’ve anticipated it. You should’ve know it. But by then it was too late.

“Mama!”

Your daughter yells for Viv, lurching forward with her arms open and fingers pointing towards where Viv was sitting at the front of the room. You had no choice but to crouch down so you could stead your suddenly wiggly child.

“Ducky, that’s enough” You speak in a hushed but firm tone. You knew that if you were to use your “Mummy voice” it would likely result in tears, and your daughter was not a quiet crier. “Mama is working right now”

But Evie was very determined to get to her mama, hastily trying to tug away from your hold on her arm. You knew heads were turning towards the both of you.

“Want Mama!”

“Evelyn–“ You try to hug her, wanting to pick her up and run out of the room before she causes anymore distractions. Right now she was the epitome of an incoming toddler tantrum. Her chest heaved with each shaky breath, her small shoulders rising and falling with the weight of her emotions. Her cheeks flushed pink with frustration, and her fists clenched at her sides.

“No no no no!” Her favourite word as of late and she was proudly demonstrating that she knew just how to use it. "No NO!"

Her big, doe-like eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Her bottom lip quivered as she stood cocooned in your arms, but furiously squirming away from your hold. In your daughter’s mind, being told that she can’t go to her Mama right now was the most devastating thing in the world, and the injustice of it all was threatening to overwhelm her.

“–Liefje”

You look up as the sound of your wife’s voice and the familiar nickname echos around the room through the microphone. You crane your neck and you spot her now standing up from her chair, holding the mic to her mouth. She gives you a knowing smile. Viv always knows what to do.

“I’ll take her, Liefje. Give her to me” Viv waves a hand, beckoning you both closer.

You pick up your still teary, pouty daughter and hoist her up to your hip. You walk the short distance towards the front of the room where Viv and Jonas are waiting.

“Looks like Mama wants you, ducky” You murmur softly in Evie’s ear, pushing the curls of hair away from her eyes. Like a switch, your daughter perks up in your arms, twisting her head towards where you were heading. You could feel her little legs kicking the air in excitement. What a mood switch.

You stop by the side of the small stage, placing Evie on her feet and quickly grab her hairband that was in your pocket. “Wait one second, Ducky. Let’s fix your hair.” There were cameras around and you would imagine that 10 years from now, your daughter will never forgive you if you let her stand in front of the cameras with a bird nest on top of her head.

The hairband dangled from your fingers as you attempted to tame Evie’s unruly locks into a neat ponytail. But your daughter was having none of it. She wriggled, clearly eager to get to her Mama, as she batted your hands away.

And like always, Viv knew just what to do to keep your daughter from fussing. Temporarily. “Hi Ducky”

“Mama!” Chuckles round the room when mother and daughter exchanged waves of greetings to each other as if they hadn’t seen each other for days when in reality it had only been a few hours.

You sighed, a hint of amusement twinkling in your eyes as you gently combed through Evie’s hair with your fingers. “Almost done" you coaxed, your voice gentle and patient as you worked to wrangle your little girl’s wayward curls. You settled on just pushing the front pieces of hair away from her eyes with the hairband. “All done. Now you can go to Mama”

Evie did not need to be told twice.

Her little legs pumped furiously and her curly hair bounced behind her. She ran around the table, past Jonas’ chair, to where Viv was standing waiting for her. Viv swings her daughter up to her hip and you watch as Viv leans close to whisper by her ear– most likely prompting Evie to greet the journalists and cameras. Your suspicions were confirmed when your little social butterfly happily waves a hand and bellows a little “hello!”

Your smile widens when her greeting is echoed by all the journalists, some waving back just as eagerly as your toddler.

Viv then proceeds to sit back down, placing Evie on her lap. Your wife adjusts her chair and shuffles closer to the mic. “Sorry for that everyone…”

She gestures to the toddler who is currently conspiring with the Arsenal manager. “This one is going through a phase where I am her favourite person, and I’m making the most of it until she realises her Mummy is more fun than me”

Laughter rings around the room, but all you give the grinning dutch at the table is an eye roll. You know Evie loves you, but her bond with Viv was something special. Evelyn is Viv’s little shadow.

One of the journalists kindly gestures for you to take the seat next to him in front row of the table and you thank him as you take a seat.

“Right then. Let’s continue…” Jonas starts the press again, and this time, your toddler is happily sitting on her Mama’s lap.

———————————-

So far the press is continuing on as normal. Journalists are prepared with questions for Viv and Jonas. “My question is for Viv.” You crane your neck to see a journalists a few rows behind you hold a hand up. “You have broken countless records in England. Arsenal literally put you on a pedestal with a temporary statue outside the Emirates Stadium, a first for a female player. Do things like that matter?” Viv leans forward towards the mic. “No not at all. I’ve already had five great years but I indicated to the club that we have to do better. Other players have done that too. Hopefully the club can bring in some reinforcements this summer–

“AH!” Evie leans up, her little head nearly clashing into her Mama’s chin if it weren’t for Viv’s reflexes, and speaks directly into the mic. She giggles when it echos back.

You wince as the mic feedback rings loudly in the room.

“–Ducky, this mic is not for you. Mama’s trying to answer the question” Viv whispers but it obviously gets caught by the microphone and broadcasted to the entire room. You press your lips together to conceal your giggle as you watch your wife attempt to coax your daughter into letting go of the mic stand. Unfortunately, it seems your daughter is very fixated on the microphone because she tries to grab for it again.

But Viv is faster. She hauls Evie off her lap for a second, turning her around so she is facing Viv and not the mic.

“Ducky turn!” Your daughter whines loudly. She is clearly displeased at being turned away from her new toy. She pouts, twisting her body back around, and points at the mic. “Ducky turn! Ducky turn!”

You never though you would say this, but maybe there are consequences in teaching your daughter how to share and take turns.

And your wife seems to think the same. ��Well…at least you all have proof that we are teaching her how to take turns properly” She chuckles endearingly at the pouty toddler on her lap.

“Okay” Viv relents with a sigh. “Ducky gets a turn.” She lifts Evie and turns her back around so she is facing the rest of the room, the press, and her shiny new toy– the black microphone.

You shake your head as you watch your wife visibly soften. Evie has Viv wrapped around her little finger from the day she was born. Viv is almost always unable to deny her daughter anything, even if she claims to be the more stricter parent out of the two of you.

“Since it’s Ducky’s turn, why don’t you have a go at answering the questions then?” Viv pulls the chair closer towards the table so Evie can reach the mic more comfortably. She directs the question to everyone in the room, clearly giving the reporters permission to ask Evie some questions.

Not a second later, a few hands are up in the air. You smile at the sight of these very professional reporters taking the time to entertain your daughter’s antics, no matter how silly they may be.

Jonas playfully gasps and leans into his mic. “Wow Evie, look at that! So many people want to ask you questions”

“What do you think, ducky?” Viv asks the grinning toddler in her lap. “Which question shall we take?”

Your daughter cutely scrunches her face in concentration, one chubby little finger tapping her lips as if she was contemplating the secrets of the universe. You watch as she scans her choices of eager hands, and then points to a man sitting by the front row. You watch as Evie lean up to whisper something to her Mama and then turns back around with a shy smile.

“Evie will take a question from the man in the front row with the yellow tie” Of course, it’s the yellow tie. Anything yellow is guaranteed to win your daughter over.

“Hello Miss Evelyn. My question for you is: what did you think of your Mum scoring two goals today?”

You watch as Viv pulls the mic closer towards Evie, giving her a nod of support when your daughter turns to her for encouragement.

“Uh…” You cringe internally as your daughter presses her mouth as close to the mic as possible, practically gnawing on it, and the sound is magnified by the speakers. The press seem to take it to stride, a few coos of encouragement sounding around the room. “…I like duckies”

“Oh! That’s nice” Bless the journalist. You doubt that bit would make it to the final draft of the article. “Ducks are quite nice, aren’t they?”

Your daughter nods and hums into the mic, wriggling from her spot on your wife’s lap, clearly eager to talk more about her favourite subject. “Duckies yellow!”

You watch as the journalists couldn't help but be charmed by Evelyn’s enthusiasm, their professional demeanour melting away as they listened to your spirited little girl. Some even leaned in closer, eager to catch every word she says, the cameras capturing the moment.

“Ducks are yellow, clever girl! But let Mama have a turn now, please” You try to stifle your laughter behind your hand as Viv has to practically wrestle the mic away from Evie, grabbing both of her little hands in one of hers to settle the mischievous toddler.

———————————————

Viv was more than happy to continue the rest of the press with her daughter in her lap, even if she has to routinely stop and grab a little hand as it beelines for the microphone. Viv lets Evie babble into the microphone a more few times and she couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride in her heart. She may be a footballer on the pitch, but her greatest joy was sitting right here in her lap, eager to share in her world, one stolen microphone at a time.

“Do you want to say anything to Mummy?” Viv points you out for your daughter to see. It was already nearing the end of the press conference. "Anything to say to Mummy before we finish?”

Your daughter thinks for a moment, her face titling to the side and her nose adorably scrunching up in concentration. Thinking about what to say to your Mummy is a very big task for a 3 year old. The room goes silent as everyone waits with baited breath.

“…I- I love you, Mummy”

Hey, my loves!

It's been while since I posted and that's mainly due to life getting in the way + not being inspired to write. By some miracle, I somehow managed to finish writing this short little fic (featuring a different player this time– surprise!). This was inspired by seeing that cute video of Alex Morgan and her daughter doing post-match interviews lol

hopefully this will only motivate me to keep on writing.

I appreciate all of you, thanks for being patient

-- butter

#woso x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #vivianne miedema #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #viv miedema

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momotonescreaming · 2 months

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STWG Daily Prompt: Reunions [Part One]

“I’m here to see Steve Harrington,” Tommy says, gripping the edge of the reception desk. The lady on duty looks up at him through cat eye glasses, permed hair falling into her face. He wonders if she can see how white his knuckles are, with how tightly he’s holding onto the desk. Anchoring himself. Desperately trying to stop his shifting weight and tapping feet. His keys jingle in his pocket every time he moves.

He’s so close. Steve is in the same building as him. He’s hurt and Tommy doesn’t even know what’s wrong with Steve. Because he missed the fucking phone call and Steve didn’t say. He was under observation, he said, but that could mean anything. Tommy breathes, and wills himself to stay still. Keep all the horrible nerves inside his body until it’s all over.

The nurse is probably used to it — people looking like they’re in a rush, eager and anxious and feeling all sorts of ways. But that doesn’t mean he likes it. That doesn’t mean he wants her to see him like this. Tommy’s still wearing his sweatpants — the baggy grey Hawkins Phys Ed ones — and a worn navy blue t-shirt. Old, and stretched. One of the more comfortable things he owns. Steve can see him like this. That’s fine. He’s seen Tommy like this before, and it’s not like he can judge, laid up in hospital like he is.

Tommy’s deflecting.

“Perfect,” The nurse starts, grabbing a clipboard and a pen from somewhere on her desk. “I’ll just need you to fill in this visitor sign in sheet.”

It was easier than expected. It also eases the weight in his chest, just slightly. If he’s up for visitors, if it’s not restricted to family. He must be fine, then. Or at the very least — not as bad as he could be. Tommy will take it. At least for now, until he can see Steve.

His hands shake as he fills out the sheet, writes his full name with unsteady hands. Thomas Hagan. Adds in the rest, and doesn’t even care that his handwriting is half illegible. They’d be used to it, he thinks absently, as he adds in the date, the time, and the patient he’s visiting.

Steve Harrington.

He skims the rest of the sheet, looking at all the other names — of course he does — and there’s a pang in his chest as he sees that no one else has visited Steve. At least not recently.

He picks at his fingers while the nurse writes out a visitors pass — an orange bordered sticker she advises him to stick to his chest and not remove. Smoothing it down, his hands pressed up against his beating chest, the plastic a stark contrast against his soft shirt.

The nurse tells him where the room is before he can ask, which Tommy is thankful for. He doesn’t have to look like he’s ashamed, a bad friend, a dog with it’s tail between his legs as he asks where the hell Steve is. Absently thanking her, Tommy pushes away from the reception desk and heads further into the hospital. Shoes squeaking against the tiled floor. Through large swinging doors, down a corridor and to a dull metal elevator.

There’s a man there, some dude Tommy doesn’t recognise already waiting, button pushed. His heart thuds against his chest, against his ribs. It grows worse with every passing second. Swearing under his breath, Tommy storm off towards the stairs. Pushes the door open, ignoring the way it thuds against the wall, and jogs up the stairs.

He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t. Not when Steve was so close. The anticipation itches under his skin, hot and burning, slowly spreading through his veins. He hasn’t seen his best friend in so long. Not that Steve would still call him that, after everything. A lump forms in Tommy’s throat.

The door slams as he reaches the top of the stairs, pushing it open. Ignoring the way the noise echoes down the hall. There’s no nurses or doctors around, it’s fine. It’s whatever. Tommy needs to get some of the anxiety out from under his skin before he loses it. Fucking screams down the hall.

His sneakers squeak with every step, as he moves in time with the ache of his beating heart. It’s not until he’s halfway down the hall that he realises that Steve could be asleep. They always give the patients the good shit. He could have come all that way, only to spend an afternoon staring at Steve’s sleeping form. It’d still be worth it.

Steve missed him, asked for him, and so he came.

He passes a phone, tucked away into a little alcove halfway down the hall. Looks at it as he passes. Was this the phone, then? That Steve rang him from. Curled into himself in the middle of the hall, desperately calling Tommy before the nurse caught him and sent him back to bed. It feels a little weird, but Tommy feels connected to Steve a little more in that moment. That the thread stringing between them is getting stronger.

Double checking the room number, Tommy stops outside a door in the middle of the hall. His hands hover over the handle and Tommy knows that if he hesitates, if he lingers outside the door, he’ll completely psyche himself out.

So he opens the door, and steps inside. The door closes behind him — quietly this time, Tommy makes sure of it. This isn’t just some random hallway, this is Steve’s room. He’s recovering and Tommy isn’t about to fuck it up.

There’s a person shaped lump in the bed, with a distinctive swoop of brown hair sticking out the top of the blankets. His breath hitches in his chest. He’d know that hair anywhere. Which feels a little silly to say, to think, but it’s true.

Tommy doesn’t know what to do. So he stands in the entrance to the room, staring down at the bed. It’s simple, plain in here. Pale walls, a lamp. A nondescript painting of some scenery. No cards, no flowers. Does no one else know he’s here? Is Tommy the only person who knows? Was Steve’s first thought to call Tommy?

He takes a shuddering breath, feels the way it shakes his lungs, rattles his ribcage. Steps towards an old armchair propped in the corner of the room, clad in the ugliest brown upholstery Tommy’s ever seen. His sneakers squeak against the floor again, and the lump in the bed winces.

His joints lock into place, muscles seizing, and Tommy feel stuck mid-stride. So he stands, and watches the blanket lump move as Steve sits up. Blankets falling away off his shoulders — shitty hospital ones, they can’t be doing much to keep him warmth. Rumpling in a pile in his lap.

He looks like shit.

It fucking hurts to look at. He’s got wounds held together with medical tape, a bandage on his jaw. Face puffy and bruised and he’s wincing into himself. Hair greasy and starting to stick to his forehead. From grease or sweat, Tommy can’t quite tell. Neither are a good option. He knows how much his hair means to Steve.

Blinking slowly, swaying slightly even as he props himself up his pillows, Steve looks like staying awake is an ordeal. Like he’s swimming through molasses. Slowly looking around the room. He freezes as he locks eyes with Tommy. Because of course he does.

Eyes widening, mouth falling open. Steve looks completely caught out. “Tommy?”

“Got your message,” Tommy says with a shrug, trying to look casual. His traitorous heart starts thundering in his chest. He can feel every thud of it against his ribs, his racing heart, his palms start to sweat. The things Steve does to him. He’s finally in the same room as Steve — his best friend, his sort of everything — and Tommy doesn’t know how to feel.

He’s missed Steve.

[Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five]

#stranger things #steve harrington #tommy hagan #stommy #stwgdailyprompt #My Writing

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kaimxri · 1 year

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Means To an End (pt III)

Lucien x Reader (she/her)

Part I Part II

Warnings: none????

Wordcount: 3K (consistency babyyyy)

A/N: I saw a tiktok this morning of Az and now it is time for him to make ammends:) he needs to go back into the good books i think! also, sorry if this seems a bit rushed! i had a headache from Y/N's pov onwards so...... but i hope you enjoy nevertheless!

Azriel

The sound of the door slamming wakes me from my slumber. My shadows brush against me, whispers of ‘gone’ ‘what did you do’ and ‘messed up’ scratch against my ear, dragging me to my senses. I raise up to a seated position and notice there is a change in atmosphere. Something feels wrong.

I grab truth-teller from my nightstand and sneak from my chambers. No unusual or suspicious sounds reach my ear, nor do my shadows report any misplaced signs of intrusion. I keep my heckles raised despite the evidence pointing to my family not being in harm’s way. The stairs barely make a sound underneath my silent footfall. Years upon years of practice perfecting my gait, keeping me hidden amongst the shadows. There are still no signs of harm in the downstairs area. I relax my stance, until my shadows report back to me.

‘Table’

‘Letter’

‘Front door’

I listen to my shadows and head for where they directed me. Just as they had said, there was a letter sitting by the door. Recognising the handwriting to be Y/N’s, my brow furrows as my hand reaches for the paper. As my eyes glance at the writing, I am filled with confusion.

‘Inner Circle,

I am writing to inform you all that I am leaving to another court. Please, do not look for me. I am safe and cared for.

I am sure you all know why I am leaving, and if you do not know then that is down to you. This break is what I need to build myself up and get a handle on my emotions. I am unsure as to whether this move will be a permanent one.

I will be in contact when I am ready.

Thank you for everything,

Y/N’

She has left? I had not noticed anything different about her in the past few weeks that showed she was in pain. Moments from the times we shared together came rushing through my mind. I spend a while scouring through each image, trying to decipher her emotions. But nothing comes through. My self-investigation is broken by Elain’s voice.

“Did you hear, Azriel?” Her smile shows whatever she had to tell me had made her ecstatic.

“Yes, I just saw. Y/N is go-“

“Lucien rejected the bon-“

We speak over each other. Lucien had rejected the bond? Why would he do such a thing… He loved Elain a lot. This morning is just filled with confusion.

“Of course she’s gone,” Elain scoffs, “She had to take my mate just because the man she loves would rather spend his time with me. It is not my fault that she does not put herself out there. Gods, I knew when Lucien broke the bond that he was not thinking clearly. Now I know his thoughts were clouded with that… female.”

“Wait, what do you mean the man she loves?”

“You, of course,” She looks at me with confusion, “Please do not tell me you have not seen her pining after you for nearly a year now? Gods Azriel, she was not exactly subtle. But she doesn’t matter anymore, nor does Lucien! Sure, they may have run off together but at least we now have the chance to try with each other. That I am grateful for.”

My mind runs with all the information being thrown at me. I am still clutching onto Y/N’s letter in a tight fist. Looking down at the paper for a moment, realisation rushes over me.

“She loved me, and she’s run away with Lucien? This does not make sense Elain. Why would she not talk to me in the first place?”

“Please do not tell me you are truly this dull, Azriel. We clearly like each other, do we not? She obviously realised that you did not return her feelings and let them fester. She should have just taken her frustrations out on some other male... Well I guess in a way she has, right? On my mate of all people.”

Elain’s words shock me. How could anyone speak so callously about another. Of course, I have feelings for Elain. How could I not? But my heart has been split in two since the moment she was made by the cauldron. Y/N had made it very clear that our arrangement was strictly physical. Perhaps my avoidance of her is what pushed her away, but I only did so to spare my own heart from being broken by the female who has held my affections for years.

Suddenly I am filled with guilt on how I treated Y/N on nights we spent together. Calling another’s name, leaving her before our hearts had chance to rest and acting as if she meant nothing to me. When she meant everything. If I had known of her feelings for me, this would never have happened. She would be here.

“We must find her. I return her feelings, Elain. Of course, I have feelings for you. But they do not compare to those I have for Y/N. Please, Elain. Help me find them. Maybe there is still a chance for yourself and Lucien? There is nothing like the soul-twined bond, and I cannot give that to you.”

She looks at me confused, as if I had just spoken pure gibberish. Oh gods, what have I done? Who have I become? I do not wish to hurt anyone, but it seems too late for that. I need to make amends.

“Do not be ridiculous. What I feel for you does not compare to the feelings I have for Lucien either Azriel. Why should I give you up only to suffer in a loveless mating bond?”

“Because Lucien has made himself suffer for you, no? He gave you what you wanted. Him to give you what you think would make you truly happy. Are you, Elain? Are you truly happy? Because I am not. I cannot help but to think of what would happen if we were together. This is just passing infatuation. I have loved Y/N for years, can you not see? Lucien loved you, and you did not give him the time of day. He is an honourable male, if you just gave him a chance you would see.”

Panic begins to raise in my chest. Sweat beads on my forehead as my hands begin to tremble. Needing to let out my nervous energy, I begin to pace back and forth. Bringing my hands up to tug at my hair, the sight of Y/N’s note sends more panic through my being. She’s gone. She’s truly gone. And it is my fault.

“No, Azriel. I cannot see. I am happy with my situation, and I am happy with you. Let’s just try, see what we make of ourselves? Together.”

“Oh, give it a rest Elain,” I all but scream at her, “I am not going to be yours. I’ve fucked up. There will be no us. Even if I cannot bring Y/N back, I will not be moving forward with you. I am a selfish male who only hurts those around him.” Sobs wrack through my body, rendering my speech broken, “I am but nothing but what others see. I hurt people, even when I am not trying.”

“That is simply not tru-“

“Then why is she not here, Elain?” I throw the letter at her chest, “Do not speak to me for a while.”

Lucien

I leave Y/N alone for the night. My actions scared her, brought her back to the memories she came to bury. Blame lies solely with me. I was overtaken by my emerging feelings for her that I did not stop to consider how she feels at this moment. Despite my newly developing feelings for the beautiful woman, it is too early for her and myself to act on any hidden desires either of us hold. Although I am sure my feelings for her are true and not rebounded feelings from my rejected mate.

When the sun arises, so do I. My sleep was restless, and my eyes feel heavy, but the need to explain myself outweighed anything else. It was not as if I could remain resting when the sight of Y/N’s eyes swimming with tears clouded my mind every time I shut my own. Without stopping to change out of my sleeping clothes, I move over to Y/N’s side of the living area. My hand hovers over her door for a few minutes, considering what I was going to say. I don’t have a chance to think for much longer as Y/N swings her door open by herself. My anxiety alleviates slightly at the sight of her teasing smirk.

“I could hear your inner turmoil through the door, Lucien.”

“You are very humorous in the morning, Y/N. Tell me, how long were you sitting on that line for?”

“Since I heard you tossing and turning all the way over in your bedroom. Whatever you wish to say, forget it. We can forget what happened last night, it is alright.”

“But it is not alright. I am very sorry for my actions. I’m not quite sure what came over me. I was just confused and there were a lot of emotions. But, Y/N, trust me when I say I was not thinking of Elain in that moment,” I take a deep breathe to steady my words, “I seem to have come across some… underlying feelings for you. Now that I no longer have the cloud of the bond blurring my vision, it seems they have decided now to come to the surface. But I am not going to act on them as neither of us are ready for romance at the moment. I wish to remain your friend; I wish to be there for you when it all gets too much. I wish for you to trust me.”

Y/N seems taken aback by my admission. As if she did not think I would admit that my emotions were fuelled by passion for her, not Elain.

“Lucien, of course I trust you. You will always be my friend too. It was just a bit of an overwhelming day, I understand.” Her forgiveness makes me feel lighter, like the burden of this incident were physically weighing me down. “But you are not going to act on your feelings? That is a shame. Though, you are right. It is too soon for us to explore any other relationships. I will see you at breakfast, Luc.”

“Now, hold on. Don’t close that door again. Would you like me to act on my feelings some day?”

“I wouldn’t say no.”

Y/N

I close the door on Lucien’s shocked face. Perhaps I was being too forward, but why should I hold back on flirting a bit? Even if I am not yet ready for a relationship at the moment, there is no harm in flirting with a handsome male. Let alone one that admits to having feelings towards me.

Oh my gods, someone has feelings for me.

A grin spreads across my face. I had never considered Lucien to be a romantic partner. Now that I have been presented with his own emotions, it seems that I have yet to discover what hides underneath my own sheltered feelings. Especially now that I am not being clouded with thoughts of the shadow singer.

Breakfast that morning is delightful. Lucien and I decided to spend the day in the village that surrounds the palace. Helion had said he would have loved to have joined us, but alas the High Lord’s duties stole him from our presence.

I meet Lucien in the grand foyer. He looks incredibly dazzling in a white shirt and a green vest. His wild red hair has been tamed into a singular braid stretching down his back. Our eyes meet as he quirks a brow.

“Going somewhere, my lady?”

“Ah yes, my lord. I am to visit the nearby village.”

“Shall I accompany you my dear?”

“If you must.”

We share a giggle at our easy rapport.

Lucien and I are too invested in our conversation that we fail to notice the village grow closer. Although we are good friends, I had not yet noticed how truly easy he is to talk to. I had known him since his stay at The Spring Court. Being the previous emissary to The Night Court, I made it a point o get to know the others that serve as messengers for the other courts. Out of all the other emissaries, Lucien was the only one to become a friend. It was only with the burden of unrequited love that we began to drift apart.

We walk together down through the lanes of the quaint village. Glancing at all the stores lining the streets. There are many art stores, reminding me of my friend Feyre. I did feel bad for leaving without more of an explanation, but I knew if I had said anything more my friends would try to hold me back from leaving.

Our strolling comes to a brief pause as we reach a jewellery store. A deep blue gem glaring back at me through the window.

“How are you holding up?” Lucien asks me, breaking our comfortable silence.

“A lot better than I thought I would be,” I respond truthfully, “I almost think that being in his presence was making my feelings stronger than they originally were. Sure, I still have some semblance of love for Azriel. But it is not the very thing that powers my body anymore. I feel like I am no longer under cupid’s control. And yourself?”

“That is good to hear. I am partly the same. The more I think of Elain, the less I think I truly loved her. If it weren’t for the bond, I would not have looked at her as more of a friend. It feels like my emotions were crafted. Like they weren’t truly mine. This break will be good for us, but I must ask. Do you see this as a permanent solution?”

His question leaves me stumped. I hadn’t thought about the length of my stay in The Day Court. Though with every passing minute that I spend here, the more I’m certain that this is where I wish to be.

“Well, I guess I will see how I feel in a few months’ time. Helion has been gracious enough to extend this visit for as long as we wish, but I would hate to take advantage of our friend. Though, if I am to stay for a while, I should probably look for a job here. I would hate to take advantage of such a kind man. How long would you like to stay?”

“I am sure Helion would hate to think you feel as if you are taking advantage of him. I’ve not spent much time with him, but I can already see his friends mean a lot to him. He very likely enjoys your company here too. I have also been thinking about how long I would like to stay. I believe that depends on what I find out about how, or if, I am related to Helion.”

“Ah, so you have heard the rumours then?”

“Of course. They are hard to ignore. I could always see how different I was from my brothers. They all treated me like a stranger because of our differences. Although, not Eris. He is not like the others describe him. He has his reasons for how he treated Morrigan. But that is besides the point. I wish to explore the relationship between Helion and my mother as well. I guess if it turns out I am Helion’s son, I shall be staying… if he will have me.”

“He will have you, Lucien. I just know it. He already loves you, son or not. Come, let us head back to the palace. Maybe we can ask around and see what we find out?”

Leaving the jewellery store behind, we head back to the palace. On our journey back we notice more than we did on the way there. The cute little stone schoolyard is the first to steal our attention. Squeals of delight and playful giggling make my heart feel lighter.

A little boy and a little girl rush past us. They were holding hands, shouting ‘I love you!’ to each other. Lucien and I share a shy glance before continuing our journey back home.

The palace is empty when we arrive, ruining our plans to investigate the rumours on Lucien’s parentage. Helion was not set to arrive back home until the evening, so we decide to spend the remaining few hours reading yet again. If this what a life free of Azriel looks like, then I have truly been missing out.

“I am going to change into something more comfortable. This dress, although pretty, is dangerously tight!”

“Aw did you get dressed up for me dear Y/N? How sweet.” Lucien teases. We stay in our comfortable silence for a while more, simply admiring the other. How had I truly missed out on how beautiful this male was? I must have been completely blinded by my own infatuation.

It is hard not to miss the look in Lucien’s eyes. That of longing, happiness and something else. I think back on the day we shared, when I am struck by a question that I had stuck in my head since I met Lucien at the door this morning.

“Was this a date Lucien?”

“Perhaps it was?”

“Then maybe you should walk me to my door?”

“I would love nothing more”.

He guides me up the golden stairs, down the winding hallway, through our warm shared space and to my own large doors. Our positioning reminds me of the night before. Of our heartfelt talk that led to Lucien kissing me…

“Are you going to kiss me again, Lucien?”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Maybe on our second date?”

“Ah, so this was a date then.”

“I’ll see you later, Lucien.”

I leave him with a flirtatious smile. I hadn’t felt like this since I first stated to sleep with Azr- No. I will not compare how I feel for Lucien to how I felt with Azriel.

This is new. This is real.

#acotar #acotar x reader #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #lucien acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #shadowsinger x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #lucien fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar angst #vanserra

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heliads · 6 months

Note

Lisa my love! I hope you don’t mind me sending another request (for none other than Jack Wilder again of course) — but how about a Jack x reader meet-cute situation, maybe she’s a barista at the coffee shop he likes to visit, and he definitely thinks she’s more than cute but reader is a little oblivious to that fact. But she doesn’t recognise him at first, (i can imagine a co-worker going “GIRL that was Jack Wilder!” and she’s like “who now?”). Jack ends up becoming a regular and the two get to know each other outside of the coffee shop setting (I’m also imagining he’d try to teach her card tricks and it’d just be so !!!!!! absolute fluff). Sorry, this request doesn’t have a SINGLE coherent thought in it, it’s literally so silly but I love this man bfhvdjhfvdn

anything for the boy

'wake me up' - jack wilder

masterlist

Nothing has ever made you want to drink coffee less than working in a coffee shop. Whether or not you’ll actually stop is purely up to your own moral strength, of course, but you’re reminded daily of why you would make such a choice whenever you clock in to your latest shift at your local coffee shop. The sight of so many exhausted people who seem to prefer snapping at you to actually taking accountability in their own lives is depressing, to say the least.

Still, you keep working there. You always do. It’s satisfying in itself, as far as jobs go, and your coworkers are funny enough that the time always passes faster than expected. It’s not bad. And sometimes, on rare days like today, you end up meeting someone with the power to change your life forever.

The funny thing is, you almost missed him. The shop was crazy busy when he came in. You would find out later that the people were only crowding into the shop and lining up down the block because of him, but you hadn’t known that at the time. You had just chalked it up to word of mouth, maybe enough people had finally appreciated the expert level of care you and your coworkers put into their lattes and decided to show up and see what’s what.

You certainly hadn’t counted on the cute boy who came bounding through the door of your shop, sending the bell fixed to the top into a commotion matching the hubbub surrounding the tables inside. Your first thought was that he seemed energetic enough that ordering coffee was unnecessary. Your second thought, as he breezed up to you, ready to order, was that you certainly didn’t mind your job anymore if it brought you faces as pretty as his.

For a complete stranger, he seemed very sure of himself. He had paused for a moment before speaking, as if waiting for you to burst into applause at the sight of him. When it became clear you weren’t going to fall into raptures, he just shrugged and rattled off his order. The words were perfectly cadenced, probably memorized. You wrote it down like normal. Routines can be tedious on both ends, even if two perfect strangers are meeting for the first time. Sometimes, you don’t know that the course of your life has been irrevocably affected until much later. You certainly didn’t know it then.

You had guessed that something was strange, though. You had asked what name he wanted with the order and the young man had blinked at you in surprise, as if he couldn’t fathom the possibility that you wouldn’t know who he was. You’re familiar with the regulars of the coffee shop, so you knew he wasn’t one of them. Still, he seemed so stunned that you didn’t recognize him already. In a good way, though. With the way he smiled at you as he said, “Just Jack, thanks,” you got the feeling that he thought quite a lot about you was good.

Jack’s order wasn’t too complicated, so you were able to finish it quickly, which he seemed to appreciate. Even after he moved out of line to wait for his coffee, Jack had still hung around the counter, eyes nervously darting around the room as if he expected someone to jump out at him. From the few glances you were able to sneak as you poured and mixed ingredients, you almost thought he was right to worry. All these tables of girls kept whispering and giggling to each other, staring back at him with this outright, unusual intensity.

You had no idea why he was seemingly being stalked by so many people, but he was cute, so maybe that would do it. There’s a college campus across town, maybe he was on a varsity athletics team or something. You called his name and several people perked up. No one looked happier than Jack, though, and he eagerly slid over to you so he could pick up his drink.

You raised an eyebrow at his excitement, unable to hide a small smile. “Really looking forward to that coffee, huh?”

Jack had the presence of mind to blush a little. “I just want to hit the road as soon as I can.”

You took an obvious look past him. “I think I can understand that. What did you do, announce that you’d be giving away free kittens or something?”

Jack chuckled, absentmindedly scratching the back of his head. “Not quite. Do you– do you not know who I am?” He gave this pained half-laugh as he said it, like he could tell that saying something like that didn’t make him come off as the nicest.

He was cute enough that it worked, though. Cute and charming. He could get away with anything. Later, you’d learn that he usually did.

“No,” you said, and his entire face had lit up. Strange. “I’m not a mind reader,” you reminded him, “I won’t know your name unless you tell it to me.”

“Well,” he had said slowly, “I won’t mind saying it again. Maybe tomorrow morning?”

You had laughed. “I’ll see you then.”

Jack had all but beamed at you, turning around to smile at you one last time right before exiting the shop. You’d watched him go with a soft smile, shaking your head to yourself as you headed back to get the next customer’s order.

When you started mixing up the next drink, though, one of your coworkers turned to you, practically shrieking in your ear with the force of her excitement. “Am I dreaming, or was that Jack Wilder?”

You glanced at her, confused, as you reached for the oat milk. “Who?”

Your coworker’s eyes widened in horrified shock. “You must be joking. Jack Wilder? Of the Horsemen?”

You had frowned at her. “Like the four that bring about the apocalypse? He seemed nice enough to me, I doubt he’s going to bring pestilence or death upon our coffee shop.”

Your coworker had shaken her head, her eyes flickering briefly shut as if praying for strength. “No, Y/N, the Horsemen are a world famous group of magicians. They’re like, crazy good. During a show, they once robbed a bank on the opposite side of the globe.”

“So they’re criminals,” you muttered, eyebrows raised, “They sound like lovely people, then. Should I check the credit card he paid with? Maybe it was a playing card instead and I didn’t notice.”

She rolled her eyes. “He wouldn’t do that, obviously. They’re like magical Robin Hoods, they only steal from banks and bad rich people and stuff like that. Jack Wilder is a celebrity, if that’s what it takes to get through to you. He’s like, the hottest one of all of them.”

“That I can agree with,” you had grinned to yourself. He was really good looking, and sweet at the same time.

You found yourself sincerely hoping that he would come back the next morning, although the odds of that had to be low. If Jack really was a world-class celebrity, he’d probably jet across to a new country by the end of the day. He probably wouldn’t stay in one place that long, especially given the questionable legality of his day job. Coming back to the same small coffee shop was practically out of the question.

And yet, when you open up the next morning, you find yourself idly glancing outside the front window every few minutes, constantly checking to see if there’s a cute magician slipping inside your shop. Each peek down the street is rewarded with the sight of faces that aren’t his, though that doesn’t stop you from looking again.

Eventually, you decide that he’s not coming after all and there’s no point in continually craning your neck to see past the people huddled outside the main window, trying to talk themselves out of purchasing a pastry. It is only now, when you let down your guard, that you see someone approaching the counter out of the corner of your eye and announce, as if this were some great, life-changing thing: “I’m back.”

For anyone else, this would be obnoxious. However, the cute boy beaming at you did make you a promise, so it is quite important that he would be here to honor his word. You end up smiling back at him in silence for a beat too long. It takes your coworker pointedly looking at the line growing behind Jack for you to remember yourself.

“Right, right. Coffee. What can I get you this morning?”

He looks bashfully behind him, as if only realizing that it’s not just the two of you in here, too. “Um, maybe a double shot vanilla latte? Oh, and can you draw something on the top?”

You hum as you write down the order. “Any ideas, or is the art my choice?”

Jack winks at you. “I’d love your number, but that might be too long. How about a heart, since you’ve already got mine?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but you do your best to keep your cool. “That’s sweet. Do you flirt with all your baristas like this?”

“Only the pretty ones,” he promises. Maybe Jack’s magic isn’t just in card tricks, but in his smooth moves as well.

As he turns around to find someplace out of the way to wait for his drink, your coworker openly stares at you, jaw dropped. “What was that?” She asks under her breath, grinning.

You just shrug, although you can’t seem to stop your lips from curling up into a poorly hidden smile. “No idea.”

Jack thanks you for his drink when it’s ready. You weren’t brave enough to give him your number, assuming he was just joking around. He’s a celebrity, you remind yourself. He could probably conjure up Margot Robbie’s number if he really wanted it. He’s not going to go for you if he could have anyone on the planet.

However, when you slide over his coffee and he immediately checks the design in the foam, pretending to pout when he sees no identifying string of digits, you start to wonder if he wasn’t kidding after all. It certainly seems that way when he shows up the next morning, and the next morning, and the next. Jack is turning into a regular, which you didn’t expect. You figured he would sweep from city to city like the rest of the Horsemen, but for some reason Jack seems inclined to stay.

He insists on getting your number about a week later, and says he won’t leave the shop until he gets it. He pretends to handcuff himself to the chair of his favorite spot, pulling the metal cuffs out of thin air and grinning at your surprised reaction. You make him stay there, locked in place, for a few more minutes just to mess with him, but in the end he walks out with your number, and when you leave that night, you find a card tucked into the pocket of your apron.

It’s the queen of hearts, although the image is less entrancing than the phone number scrawled across the front. Just in case I lost yours by accident, says the note on the back. You press it to your heart, trying to stop yourself from audibly squealing. You had promised that you wouldn’t fall for him, but it’s getting increasingly difficult to keep your word.

Especially not when you get a text some time later that night: Get home safe? Then: This is Jack. Although I hope you wouldn’t be confusing my number with other handsome men who also wanted to see you.

In the safety of your room, you’re free to lightly kick your heels back and forth like a kid with a schoolgirl crush. No other admirers. Just you.

Just the way I like it, is the answer, practically only a few heartbeats after your text. You might actually end up loving him if he’s not careful.

Jack comes in the next morning looking far too pleased with himself. In fact, he even goes so far as to ask when you get off work that day. He says he wants to see you without other customers getting in the way. You remind him that he, too, is a customer, and he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, asking if you want him to be something else. You don’t deign to respond to that, but you think your self-conscious smile does enough talking. He certainly laughs like it does.

Jack ends up taking you out to lunch. He makes you laugh the whole time, looking proud of himself every time he manages to elicit so much as a smile from you. He tells you stories about all the fantastic jobs he’s taken as a Horseman, even attempts to teach you a card trick or two. Several dropped decks later, both of you can freely admit that he’s got more of a knack for sleight of hand than you, but his hands have been over yours in the name of teaching his trade often enough that neither of you much mind.

It’s getting harder and harder to pretend that this is just a game to him. You do ask him once, as he’s dropping you off at your door, if he really does want this. You. Everything. Jack looks softly at you once, eyes containing all the secrets he couldn’t possibly put into words if he tried, and then he kisses you sweetly, slowly, and you know. Jack Wilder could have the whole world in his hands, but as it turns out, the only thing he wants from it is you. He’ll convince you of that as often as it takes. You can’t wait to watch him try.

requested by @hiya-itsamber, i hope you enjoy!

now you see me tag list: @mayfieldss

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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stargazing15 · 1 year

Text

It's in his eyes

Jake Seresin x Y/N Trace

Summary: you met Jake at a masked party and got lost in his eyes, falling for him, hard. And Jake, well he was a lovesick puppy too after the party.

A/N: just look at the man's eyes, got distracted by the gif everytime I was trying to write. And that cute face

"Y/N, can you please stop talking about your zorro, I'm actually glad I was sick during the Halloween party, can we please enjoy the beach? I actually want to enjoy quality time with my little sister."

"Sorry Nat, it's just, he was so perfect, his eyes..." and you got lost again in the memory of a couple of nights ago.

You had just arrived in San Diego, following the footsteps of your bigger sister Natasha. You both had the dream to become a Naval aviator, but she was the only one achieving the dream, with your 4'11 you didn't pass the requirements. Still not wanting to bury your dream to work with planes, you became flight technician, the best one existing. So this you got transferred too to San Diego, getting reunited with your sister.

After getting settled in in your shared appartement with your sister she had a week off, starting your quality time with the annual Halloween party at the Hard Deck. Of course Nat being Nat, she got sick on her first day off, something she always had, like her body knew when it didn't need to perform.

Since it was a masked party, she still insisted you to go and have fun. Which you definitely had. Being a part of the Trace family meant the best costumes, or in this case you went as a pumpkin, a cute one. It had a little puffy orange body and the eye mask as the top of the pumpkin.

During the party you had met this Zorro by remarking he was very fake for not wearing the moustache and like that you two got talking throughout the whole night. But your breath got taking away by his piercing beautiful green eyes with this slight darker green shade on the edge. He had also had a good physique, but it were his eyes you got distracted by. Both liking the mystery, talking about everything except your names and occupation.

When you got outside and sat under the light, there was this comfortable silence between the two of you staring in each other's eyes, getting lost in them.

"I can get lost in your eyes" you had blurted out loud.

Jake's POV

"Jake can you please stop talking about your pumpkin, you should've asked her number, idiot. You know there's a big chance you're never going to see her again." Coyote complained to his friend who was whining over and over again about this girl he met a couple of days ago on the Halloween party. Hangman was normally not the type for relationships, but he has never been this head over heels for a girl.

He couldn't get her out of his head, every second was dedicated to her. She was so small compared to him, looking adorable in that cute pumpkin costume, remarking him on his incomplete costume with that sweet voice. And oh those beautiful big brown orbs. She had something said about his eyes, but he couldn't give a compliment back, he felt too lost looking at her, adoring the sight in front of him. So he let his body speak as he cupped her small face in his hands and kissed her softly. He kissed her over and over again in between talking and staring in each other's eyes until she had to leave.

"Jake? Bagman? Hello, earth speaking!" Jake snapped out of his thoughts, "man, you've got it bad." Rooster said while patting him on his back. "But did you see her complete face? Tell me you at least got her name?"

"No" Jake whispered softly "but I can recognise her eyes out of a thousand."

"Do I really have to go with you?" You nagged at your sister.

"Never thought I would say this, but I think you're in love man. Phoenix is lucky she has to miss your whining."

"Yes, stop being such a baby. You're coming with me, meet my coworkers, maybe you will work on one of their planes in the near future. Stop whining and woman up."

"Okay" you give up, Nat won this battle.

"Jake, shut up, will you!" You hear a male voice say while entering the Hard Deck.

"Didn't miss that while catching up with you," Nat whispered. "Everyone, this is my little sister, Y/N, she just transferred here, she's the best technician existing."

"Wait, there are two Traces? And there is a cute one?" Coyote remarked.

"Coyote! She's off-" before she could finish, Jake had woken up from his pity party he was throwing for himself.

"Pumpkin?" Jake had looked up at the word 'cute' and not believing his eyes that his adorable pumpkin had landed in front of him, like an angel descending from heaven.

"Zorro without the moustache?" You had recognized those beautiful green anywhere, your heartbeat rised with seeing him, felling a little bit dizzy. Within the second Jake had wrapped you in a tight hug, never wanting to let go of you. You wiggled yourself out of the needing embrace to start kissing him. You had missed him like crazy.

"Bagman? What? My sister? Y/N, no!" Both your and Jake's action leaving your sister shocked. She never guessed the sweet man you described was Hangman.

"So your sister is the love of Hangman's life, didn't see that one coming." Rooster said with a small laugh.

Jake had snapped out of the world where only you and him existed and stopped kissing, so he could tug you to your sister. "I'm going to do this the right way. Phoenix, can I take your sister out on a date?"

"What no, stay away from her! You're not gonna corrupt her!"

"Come on Phoenix, Bagman here has been sulking ever since the party. Believe us when we say that he's in love with your sister." Rooster was surprisingly defending Hangman for once.

"Phoenix, look at the bright side, your sister can learn him some manners." Bob added in Hangman's defense.

"No! Go date him yourself, I expected better from you Bob."

"Have you looked at him? Hangman has never been like this for someone, look at the lovesick puppy and look at your sister." Coyote was right, no one had seen Hangman swoon for a girl. The softness appearing in his eyes when he was talking about her, the way he was genuinely regretting letting you go that night. He would have laughed in your face when someone would've said two weeks ago he would be thinking now about buying a house with someone, going on the cheesiest dates, wanting to marry her and having kids with her. And right now he didn't want to think about anything else. If it was possible he would do it all at the same time.

"You have my permission, but don't make me regret this Hangman, she's my little sister."

"Y/N, would you like to go on an official date with me, like right now?"

"Yes, yes!" You were smiling from ear to ear.

"Nat, you said I might work on one if their planes, I guess you were right." You smirked at your sister and running off quickly with Jake to the beach.

Taglist: @mrsjaderogers , @bradleybeachbabe

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #top gun maverick #too gun: maverick #top gun fanfic #jake seresin fluff #hangman fluff #hangman fanfic #jake seresin fanfic

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f4iry-bell · 15 days

Text

Stained Shirt and Two Seats for One

a very long title, im so sorry about the setting of first chapter not being clear and switch of what is going on eacothers heads?? though its written in third person pov. first chapter is very terrible pls bare with me. its just for funies.

this is a regular x f!reader. anyone can read it.

NOTE: after TBH but AU where there is no tgg or anything that involves tgg(no avery's game, or alice being alive, etc etc). reader is 23-24. grayson is 26-27 y/o. im sorry for making gray kinda old ITS FOR PLOT REASONS.

warning: unclear setting 🧍‍♀️.

Y/n blinked rapidly as she was trying hard not to scream out of pain and anger. The hot liquid poured all over her burnt like hell. And the colour choice of her top was definitely not helping. At least she doesn't have to immediately meet her client as soon as she lands in London. Some of the people who passed by looked at her stained shirt and the man in front of her who looked so perfect. No, literally, he might just be perfect.

“My sincere apologies.” He apologised and his tone stated neutral, he sounded apologetic but yet not.

“It's okay.” She says giving him a poor smile while she looks at her top.

“It's not okay, your shirt is ruined.” He states.

“No, I was on my phone while I was walking, it's also my fault.” She said and watched him take his white handkerchief out handing it to her.

“I was not looking as well.”

“Thank you, but I don't think it's going to help.” She chuckled but his face remained neutral.

“I’m sorry again” He kept apologising and she kept saying ‘it's fine’

Finally they both parted ways. Grayson was thinking about the incident and the girl, he ruined a perfectly styled outfit. It was simple and probably comfortable for flying. He remembered that his flight is about to take off in 30 minutes. He can't let that event bother his whole plane ride.

As Grayson walked inside the flight through the economy, he recognised one person sitting in the middle, the girl whom he poured his black coffee on. She was wearing a cardigan over her stained shirt. Her wired earphones disappeared in her wavy hair. She sat in between a weird old man and a woman with her baby on her lap. She looked so done. He can't imagine how bad her day must be. First, he pours coffee on her and now she has to sit next to probably two worst types of people you would find on a plane. He couldn't help himself. He walked to her seat, fortunately he didn't have to tap on her to make her notice his presence. She looked at him once he was near her seat and unplugged her earphones from her ears with a confused look. Probably wondering why he is here.

“Hi.” She said and gave him an awkward smile as if this man did not just pour hot coffee on her.

“I have an offer,” He said. “For you.”

“Oh. um, oh” He can tell that she was super confused by her response.

“You have a seat in first class” He informed her.

“Huh?” She was still confused.

“You heard me. I have a seat for you in the first class” He was trying to be clear.

She can tell that this man was about to board in first class when he poured coffee on her just by his looks. But why is he offering his seat? Because he poured coffee on her? And where will he sit? In her seat? He looks like he never travelled out of first class.

“Oh you don't have to give up your seat. It's fine.” She smiles.

“Ma’am, I'm not giving up my seat. Take the offer” He ordered, getting kind of impatient.

“You’re not? But you said that you have a seat for me”

“True”

“So, your seat”

“Yes. My other seat” He added “You'll be sitting next to me”

“You have booked two seats?” She asked. Was he supposed to travel with someone? His outfit might say that he was supposed to travel with a business partner or assistant.

“I always do. Now if you're done with your questions, we must leave before the airhostess asks us” He said.

She blinked a couple times not believing what just happened. She stood up and noticed the lady with her baby was giving her a jealous look. I mean she can't blame the lady, who wouldn't want to travel in first class. She took her small backpack with her.

She spoke as they walked “So um why'd you book two seats?” She didn't want to pry but she was going to sit next to this man for hours, she didn't want it to be awkward throughout.

“As I've mentioned already. I always do”. He replied. Showing no interest in a conversation. He is giving her a seat in first class that should be enough of an apology for the coffee, right?

“But why?”

“Because I do not like sitting next to strangers. You'll be surprised to find out even people who travel first class want to engage in unnecessary conversations” He told her. She gave a nod. She made a mental note to not engage in a conversation with him.

Grayson noticed it, he also thought that she is quite polite and beautiful too.

She tried hard not to think that he is an arrogant asshole, well he is giving his seat to her so he must be fine. She made sure not to make silly conversation with him or not talk at all. This man booked two tickets just so he doesn't have to engage with others. He must hate people. Y/n was not a fan of people or small talk with strangers either so it's not hard for her to keep her to herself. But if the awkward silence is too loud she won't be able to help herself, she will just say something random.

The plane ride was quiet as Grayson wanted. He liked the fact that the girl did not try to have any small talk with him. All though he tried his best to mind his own business he kept noticing what she was doing, for the first half an hour of the flight the girl was writing something on her notebook. He wanted to peek but it would be too obvious. After some writing she took out a beige eye mask and then rested throughout the flight. Watching her like a creep he decided to do the same as well.

It was like an unwritten rule to walk out of London's airport together for them. Like the plane ride the walk was also quiet. Grayson had a car waiting for him outside already, the girl on the other hand was waiting for a taxi. He wanted to offer her a ride but he thought it was probably too much.

“I’m once again sorry about your clothes. Have a good life” He started and ended the conversation without even giving her time to speak. He didn't care if she thought he was rude, he will never see this girl ever again.

next part →

#grayson hawthorne #grayson x reader #grayson hawthorne x reader #the inheritance games #the brothers hawthorne #xander hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #nash hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #avery grambs #the grandest game

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cookiesupplier · 4 months

Text

Every Rose Has It's Thorns - Part Fourteen

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc (Talia)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, panic attack, stalking.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate.

author’s note: Unbeta'd, readers beware as always lol.

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @jilliemiw86 @ilovesamkiszka @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses

Talia made it back to Vinny’s safely just like she knew she would, just as she planned, she Uber’d to his street, and walked the rest of the way, recognising the houses just enough to know which way to go to get to the right one. It was better than having to stop and ask for directions when, one, she didn’t know the house number of the house where she was going, and two, she wasn’t sure how much they knew of Vinny’s life so she didn’t want to cross any lines, and lastly, she was all sweaty and sticky, that would just feel awkward.. Wow, usually she was so much more responsible than this. So, thankfully, no, she was able to get back on her own, otherwise she would have been screwed as if she wasn’t already.

Richard Olson, making all the sense leave her head. Perfect. As if she couldn’t think herself more of a dumb ass right now. For anything that she’d let happen, but craved at that moment, and maybe, still thought over. Damn him. It didn’t help that the whole walk back to Vinny’s house, every time she even thought of the way Rick had touched her, even in the slightest way, her tattoo had pulsed with a warmth that shot right between her legs.

Once she got there, Talia showered and cleaned herself up properly, washing away everything, everything. Asleep, resting in bed when Ava and Vinny got back later in the day, she made sure of it, or at least, for all appearances, she was sleeping. The last thing she wanted to do was face why she had left the party early and just hoped that Ava had told the others she wasn’t feeling well, giving them her apologies. Trying to explain to anyone just felt like too much, Ava had been bad enough, and anything more than a text message.. Hopefully, she’d had fun, and she’d leave it be now that the day was over and done.

The next week, it passed in a blur. She had met Vinny’s family, and it was something of complete chaos. Sweet chaos. Seemed once a month his mother insisted on a family dinner, at least for those who could make it. Considering this was not only the first since Vinny was home from the tour but also since the last time he’d managed to come to one of the gatherings, he’d found his soulmate, they were the star attraction.

Talia smiled, seeing the simple sweet joy in Ava’s eyes, hearing the laughter as the two regaled the story of how they met over and over. How Vinny was so shocked at seeing her soulmate tattoo while they were at the VIP meet and greet. Thankfully they blessedly left out the fact of Talia’s soulmate connection to the story, not only would it have taken away from it, but brought up so many questions that she honestly didn’t want to answer. Especially when she realised that Vinny’s mom asked about how Ricky was doing, something about hearing from Gladys about the police being called to his place the other day, the same day they got home from tour.. She hoped everything was okay.

That shocked her, and Vinny appeared to be in the dark about that turn of events too, telling his mom he didn’t know anything, but Ricky seemed fine when they’d seen him at the barbecue.

Oh, he’d seemed fine, alright.

Physically at least, mentally Talia didn’t know where his baseline was with him demanding her to strip and prove she was his soulmate in the middle of a party with everyone outside, and then them fucking in the bathroom.

Talia didn’t know where she was mentally, either. Who was she kidding, she knew, she hadn’t been okay for weeks, and she didn’t know she would be any time soon, all she could do was keep going. One foot in front of the other and just pretend everything was normal, until, maybe it would be again.

So she did.

That included trying not to get in the way of Ava and Vinny spending alone time together. As much as she knew Ava wanted her to get to know Vinny more, and she did, she spent time together with them, movie nights hanging out and stuff like that, laughing over board games once or twice, it was impossible not to see how they were around each other, and when they were alone together, there were moments that Talia really just would rather be anywhere else fast. Not hard to recognise, Ava should remember how it felt around Kyle and Jordan when they found out they were soulmates.

Sure, those two had been dating for years at the time, but when they finally got their tattoos, it was like something flourished in them. She couldn’t even say it was physical, but still felt intimate, and being around when Ava and Vinny were together, sometimes she’d rather just leave them alone, together. To bond, properly, the way they should. Without her being pesky, without the confines of a bus full of bandmates for two weeks straight.

That was how she started heading into town to explore during the day and enjoy finding different places. She found the local tattoo parlour for one and got to talking to the artists there. They were some good guys, fun to hang out and chat with for a little bit. Found a nice little bookstore to enjoy raiding, even a little café that reminded her of Jordan, who had her video calling him and telling her that she had a new barista, and he was officially replaced because they made better coffee. Did she get chewed out while she giggled mercilessly the whole conversation? Yes, yes she was. Absolutely hilarious, and completely worth every second, too.

It was as she was hanging up her call that she came across someone else she’d met in town already, surprised, Chris.

“Oh hi!”

“Hey Talia, you sound like you’re making yourself at home.”

Shaking her head quickly,

“No, no, not home, just, comfortable, while I’m here. Giving Ava and Vin some space. I’m not really sure how long I’m going to be here.”

Seeing the coffee in his hand, hers was barely half finished, but considering her conversation with Jordan, it might be cooler by now, she’d still drink it though, it was caffeine, so why waste it?

“Did you want to join me, or are you running out the door?”

“Oh, I’m happy to get off my feet, I’ve been all over town running errands all morning.”

Grinning slowly at that,

“You don’t have someone to do that for you?”

Watching the singer's shoulders shrug slightly,

“Well, when it comes to work, and when we’re on tour, yeah. Better than getting swamped under a mountain of everything, ya know? But at home, even if it can all feel like too much sometimes.. I like being the one running around doing everything. Even if it feels crazy sometimes, it feels like home.”

Talia nodded slightly, she supposed she could understand that,

“Feels normal.”

“Yes, exactly. Just like everyone else, you get it.”

“Yes, yeah, I get it.”

Strangely, that was how she felt when she gave up trying to meet Ricky when she gave up having a soulmate at all. At least, almost normal. She still had to worry about the people who were looking for their soulmates, and she knew wasn’t the one so they just didn’t bother with her, it could get very rude and dismissive, as if she wasn’t even a person sometimes, that was frustrating.

“Sometimes, normal is everything you crave.”

Having coffee in the afternoons with Chris became a new normal, laughing, joking, and talking about all kinds of things, it was great to just talk and get things off her chest. Well, some things, there was what she still hadn’t spoken to a soul about, like what had happened in the bathroom at the barbecue, not even a week later despite sitting there, at the table, having coffee with Chris for a few days in a row now, she hadn’t said a word, and she wasn’t going to. Not even to Ava. What would be the point?

Rick could breathe better when the security upgrade was finally finished, and Chris had told him he’d talked to Vinny about getting his upgrade too. He didn’t know if the girls knew, hopefully, they didn’t have to know, and they didn’t have to worry, it should be something they were doing anyway living in the public eye. It was something they should all be doing regularly, but this time, there was even more of a reason. Whether Chris had told Vinny the added reason outside the fact he had Ava to protect now, more than just himself, he didn’t know.

Ricky hoped not, he didn’t think so. If Chris had, he was sure Vinny would have called him over it and probably demanded to know why Rick hadn’t told him about Grace showing up like that himself after everything that had happened between them in the first place.

He hadn’t. Hell, it took him days to get a call asking about the cops coming to his house, something about his mom hearing from one of his neighbours.. Damn that gossip grapevine, though, everyone knows everything sometimes. It could be worse than social media if they weren’t careful.

A week went by and yet, he was doing his damnedest not to think about what Ava had said to him about Talia dealing with the mess of having him as a soulmate. If he thought too much about it, he might turn around and cave into wanting to know more. If he thought about it, he might actually ask. He was trying not to, he was trying to keep his distance from Talia. As far as he could. Because that woman was starting to make him curious, and he despised it. Why, he barely knew anything about her, and he didn’t want to know anything about her. He refused.

Well, he knew how it felt when she came apart around him. He knew how she looked when she did, how she shuddered, how it sounded when she moaned like that, and he refused to admit even to himself that he’d replayed the memory a few times over the past week. Fuck. Damn, his soulmate tattoo heating up on his neck every time he tried to shut himself down and not think about her, the way she felt under his hands. Damn it. The feeling was just uncalled-for, and strange, strange enough that he was tempted to look it up online, but if he was honest, he was a touch afraid of what he might find. What it might mean.

What if it was all in his head?

Today he was in town, grabbing some groceries and while he could order them online these days, he didn’t feel like dealing with strangers picking his produce and touching all his food right now. Sure it’s tedious, but he does it, he goes down to the markets, buys his fresh food, and some nice goodies and packs up his car to head home. Deciding to drop in and pick up some coffee on the way home, far too tired right now, strung out.. He was stopping in at the café when he saw them.. Talia and Chris, sitting inside, laughing.

He didn’t know what was happening at that moment, but all he could see was them, Talia, sitting with Chris, with that bright happy smile on her face, and she looked so carefree. An expression that he’d never been able to give her, not that he’d ever cared to try, but that fact didn’t seem to matter right then, the sight of her look like that talking with Chris just seemed to make something twist in his chest. Glancing from Talia to Chris, whether it was irrational or not, and Ricky, he knew, he knew it was, he couldn’t help but think how dare Chris, after everything he’d said to him. Never mind that Rick had rebuffed it at every turn, he’d tried. Fucking traitor. He was going to fucking destroy- Before Rick realised what he was doing at all, his feet were walking him towards the glass doors of the café, his fingers reaching for the silver handle, wrapped around the bar and ready to push it open so he could walk in. But that was when he saw his reflection in the glass, instead of mentally zeroing in on nothing but Chris where he sat inside. Ricky froze at the sight of the man staring back at him in the glass. He looked fucking deranged.

Shit.

Shit..

What was happening to him?

No. No, no.. Shit. He. What, what is he supposed to do now?

He let go of the handle as if the metal had burned him and backed away, turning on his heel and walking right back to his car, climbing in, and driving away quickly. He didn’t even notice the fact that Chris glanced towards the café entrance. Chris had seen him walk away, watching the guitarist retreat, even if Talia had been none the wiser about the close call of the dramatic showdown that had almost happened then and there.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

#motionless in white #miw #ricky olson #ricky horror #ricky olson fanfiction #ricky olson x ofc #original female character #soulmates #vinny mauro #fanfiction #miw band #rick olson #ricky horror olson #soulmate au #soulmate #tattoos #ricky olson fanfic #vinny mauro fanfic #fic: every rose has its thorns

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floor031 · 1 month

Text

re my last rb: my ranking of nami's favourite partners for general illegal activities whenever they hit a new island, pre & post-timeskip, including but not limited to:

swindling

scamming

small-scale grifting

gambling (& therefore cheating at gambling)

small-scale heisting (ones that require infiltration or more subtlety than usual)

ok let's go

pre-ts (pre-grand line):

zoro - it's so fun to get dramatic with him. he's very perceptive, he always plays along no matter what, he knows when to push the intimidation (and is very good at it. eternal attack dog privilege ftw) & when to dial back. he also knows nami best/longest out of them, though that quickly stops making a difference in most contexts

usopp - OBVIOUSLY!! he is quite literally perfect in every grift you can think of. the only problem is that he starts fumbling when the other party at, say, the casino gets a lil too threatening/seems to be catching on. whereas nami (& zoro) chase the adrenaline he doesn't like to toe the line TOO much.

sanji - automatic 3rd b/c she gets annoyed with how he can't function when a hot woman so much as breathes his way (she doesn't even scam other women! not when she can help it!) or if it's a grift that requires him to get the least bit touchy with her. but he IS objectively GOOD at it.

GREAT WALL OF CHINA

400. luffy - she does not let him grift OR gamble with her. subtlety of a fucking toddler. derails every single grift/mini heist. NEGATIVE poker face, ESPECIALLY when he's actively trying. when she's forced to bring him along though he always notices something she hasn't because he is bizarrely perceptive like that, he just doesn't really care. unfortunately this also means he doesn't always care to inform her about what he observes. (luffy: "but you told me to keep quiet!!") he also has really good luck so if he manages to stay quiet and not attract attention he can act as a good luck charm. however that is impossible

(later) pre-ts:

usopp - everything stays the same AND he's getting better at keeping his cool. what's not to love. this is their bonding activity

zoro - nami has learned the hard way that they both CANNOT take themselves seriously for long when they are required to get touchy. he's also demoted bc he refuses to part with his swords, which is really quite inconvenient if she wants him to be her partner for, say, a gala dinner they're sneaking into.

sanji - still 3rd but a closer 3rd now!! stay strong sansan!! more on earlier, grifting with him isn't as effortless/fun as it is w usopp or zoro but that is in no way due to lack of skill on his part. he's not just good at landing a cover; he's strategic like zoro and flexible like usopp. plus, he just FITS into a high class setting with the seamlessness that neither usopp nor zoro have which makes him very, very useful for grifts requiring more formality. however due to his also aforementioned flaws he cannot hit top 2 im (not) sorry...... ALSO! this is partly bc im so sanamipilled but i do think that she's grown to enjoy the touchiness sometimes - and now she can admit it to herself. 's a fun little excuse for her to indulge sanji a bit, especially if their mark for the night is easy

robin - she is last bc she is usually simply not interested in all that. however she will creep people out with her general aura when needed!

post-ts:

usopp - everything is just so easy with him x2. they fall back into their dynamic and it's perfect and even BETTER than before because they're both a little out of practice after 2 years, but they've also both got new tricks up their sleeves. they don't get as many chances TO grift anymore in the new world though. always onto the next big adventure. plus now she's notorious enough that people actually RECOGNISE her in bigger cities/towns (she's not too happy about this)

sanji - he's been promoted :) but also demoted especially freshly post-ts bc of fishman island related crimes.

zoro - he doesn't let nami convince him into grifting with her anymore :-(( but if nami still requires someone to stand menacingly behind her as she extorts some rando then [mbappe voice] He Will Be There No Matter What

luffy stays the same :p

chopper is too young to be engaging in these activities & franky and brook are wayy too conspicuous. jinbei just joined they do not have the time for that shit yet. also i havent read beyond wano

#op #one piece #strawhats #straw hat pirates #east blue crew #nami #usopp #zoro #sanji #luffy #robin #qin poast

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luminous-jellyfish · 8 months

Text

A Writeblr Intro (English Version)

Link zur deutschen Version

Hi, I'm Marlin! I've been lurking on tumblr and in its writing community for years but was always too shy to engage. Now I've finally decided to start sharing my own stuff (mainly to organize myself) and become active!

⫸ About Me ⫷

I go by Marlin (she/her), or on some platforms by luminous-jellyfish

mid 20s, queer

I write (mostly) in German, but post (mostly) in English

my favorite genre is fantasy, and all the different direction fantasy can go in, but I like trying my hand at genre mixing

my main blog where I reblog general stuff and fandom things and so on is @secondrealitytotheright

⫸ Current WIPs ⫷

I'm currently most actively working on a few different stories that all take place in the same world (though at slightly different points in time) that I've dubbed "leviathan world" in my notes - after the gigantic sea creatures that live in its deep oceans (and sometimes the sky, who can resist sky whales, seriously). I would probably call it a fantasy world with steampunk elements.

All of those stories feature queerness in different forms, and most of them include at least slight elements of what might be called body horror.

All of these stories are still operating under working titles and are in various, wildly differing draft stages. As always I have far too much planned in this world but these four are the stories I'm actually actively writing right now:

Seeds beneath our skin

Genre: Magical Academy Fantasy, Coming-of-age story

Setting: a group of islands and archipelagos near the equator, where the leviathans are generally both revered and feared as holy and powerful creatures connected to the spirit world

Short Summary: A young girl who grew up as a sea nomad joins the temple that has controlled religious practices throughout the islands for a hundred years. Against her will she becomes a key figure in the struggle for power and religious freedom that is about to grip the temple. To survive spirit possession, human intrigue and ideological differences she is forced to reconsider her identity and world view and define herself on her own terms.

Honey cakes and bloody satin

Genre: Steampunk Fantasy, (Cozy?) Mystery, Romance

Setting: a harbor city on the northern continent, famous for their leviathan hunters, where a technological revolution is happening as the blood of leviathans is turned into a powerful fuel

Short Summary: A journalist working for a revolutionary underground newspaper and a seamstress involved in the golem's rights movement are thrown together when a man dies right in front of their eyes. They must work together and solve the crime while also hiding everything happening from the Watch, to protect both of their secrets.

Short WIP Intro

Half the lights

Genre: High Fantasy Adventure, Romance

Setting: A city on the back of a leviathan, as well as the open skies, oceans and harbors frequented by smugglers, messengers and pirates

Short Summary: A wealthy, bookish young woman who dreams of investigating weather phenomenons escapes having to forge a psychic bond with the leviathan carrying her home city on its back. She stows away on a messenger ship and finds herself among a shady crew of smugglers. Eventually she gets herself involved in pirate adventures, a political revolution and a growing attraction to a headstrong fighter with a rigid code of honor and high ideals.

And surrendered the flesh

Genre: Science Fantasy

Setting: a big city in a sub-tropical climate, surrounded by jungles and plains that have been gripped by a powerful virus that contorts nature and all living things

Short Summary: A young girl from the country travels to the city to find her missing sister and gets involved with an organisation that strives to perfect the human body. An ambitious scientist fights to be recognised for her genius and to keep her past mistakes secret. An old woman is forced to join a struggle she has been hiding from for years and rediscover forgotten powers to try and save her grandchild. All three of them will shape the face of the city.

#ok so this is the first intro #mostly for my own organisation #let's go #fantasy writing #writeblr #my writing #english version #leviathan world #wip: seeds beneath our skin #wip: honey cakes and bloody satin #wip: half the lights #wip: and surrendered the flesh

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saintsenara · 2 months

Note

*rolls up in sexy nurse costume* i have those crack ships you ordered, doctor! extra strength unhinged.

firenze/narcissa malfoy

augusta longbottom/piers polkiss

colin creevey/the bloody baron

oh, you thought you ate with these, anon, but they're hardly unhinged at all.

firenze/narcissa malfoy

i wonder what returning to the forest would be like for narcissa in the years after the end of the war? it's the site of probably the most pivotal decision she will ever have made in her life - one which saves her son, but kills her sister; one which sees her family lose its status, humiliated by the ministry clearing house after the battle and dependent on the goodwill of harry potter to stay out of prison, but which still enables them to survive as a trio.

i seem to write, whenever i'm asked about narcissa, that she's clearly someone whose life is dictated by conformity to conventions - especially ones relating both to her gender and to her social class. with the end of the war, the mask behind which she has lived for decades is no longer available to her, and a woman who is clearly quite fragmentary is going to find herself trying to piece back together a person who hasn't been seen in public since narcissa realised she'd have to make up for bellatrix and andromeda's defiance by being a porcelain-perfect wife and mother.

and returning to the forest is going to stir up the same feelings in firenze. he was driven out for also making a knife-edge decision of huge consequence - agreeing to abandon the usual centaur policy of indifference to human affairs and working for dumbledore as the war ramps up - and which also results in a victory which is tenuous: he's absolutely right to recognise that there's a time for being hands-off and the government in being in the control of a genocidal terrorist kingpin isn't one of them; but, in being right, he ends up an outcast from his community, living as a second-class citizen in a society in which even the good guys think of non-humans as less worthy than themselves.

so you've got your forest-based meet-cute. you've got your central couple striving to come to terms with who they really are. you've got two people whose lives have been dictated by conformity to a set of social standards who no longer have the safety of those standards available to them. you've got a woman whose whole family are named after stars and a man [who is also a horse] who knows how to read the skies.

tell me you don't ship it.

augusta longbottom/piers polkiss

i've seen harold and maude.

colin creevey/the bloody baron

if you were adjusting to life as a ghost, having been brutally killed in a battle you shouldn't even have been fighting in, who would you want to show you around as you learn the ropes?

a forever-fourteen-year-old girl who literally doesn't stop whining

the world's most pompous partially-beheaded man [also fond of whining]

a mysterious and rude young woman who won't stop going on about how hot the man whose forces killed you was when he was sixteen

a drunken monk who represents the least interesting house and who's probably really into "looking on the bright side" and "manifesting", even though he's dead

5. an intriguingly blood-stained [always sexy!] anglo-norman nobleman who would help you tackle the big questions about regret and remorse and who could keep peeves away from you.

we all know what decision we'd make.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #unhinged and deranged ships #but maybe quite sweet as well

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roguesscribbles · 6 months

Text

My Time at Sandrock FINALLY had its full release, so guess what I've been playing! I made a character that I've grown really fond of and have developed into a full OC, so meet Zoey the Builder!

I decided to draw her in her early game outfit cuz she looked cute in it. I'm still pretty early on in the game so her outfits will change with time. :D

Backstory and character info under the cut!

Backstory

Before becoming a Builder, Zoey previously worked as a freelance bounty hunter, travelling across the Free Cities and beyond. She got into the work through her parents, who were also bounty hunters and trained her as they raised her.

When a job went wrong and she was forced to kill a target who fiercely fought back, she had an epiphany as she looked at her blood-soaked hands. She didn’t want this. She’s not sure if she ever did want this.

Following this, she decided to abandon her life as a bounty hunter and try to make something of her life. Only issue is, this is the only life and skill she’s ever known, and she’d like to avoid another career that’ more fighting. Thankfully, her aunt and uncle living in Highwind were happy to take her in and help her figure things out.

It took some time to figure out what she COULD do. Due to her upbringing, she didn’t have a traditional education, which meant a lot of special education was locked away from her. Eventually, they settled on something that’s accessible to everyone: a Builder.

After going through her training, she was granted her Builder’s licence. At the same time, an interesting opportunity caught her eye. Sandrock were putting out a call for a new Builder to replace the one that was retiring. She’s never been to Sandrock other than passing through, never really need to. She had no ties to an existing workshop, and there was practically no chance of anyone from her old life recognising her there. It was perfect. It was the true start to her new life.

About Her

Late 20’s when the game starts (Mid 20’s when she stopped being a bounty hunter)

Cis Woman, Bisexual

Around 5ft 3in

Due to her past, Zoey struggles to property express herself emotionally. She shut the emotional side of herself for years for her bounty hunting work, and she is trying to cope and recover from that. She usually has a straight face or a resting glare, and she is very quiet, usually only giving short answers and speaking when spoken to. This changes the longer she lives in Sandrock.

As she struggles with her words, she expresses her feelings through her actions. She will give people gifts, varying from things she knows they like to things they’ve said they need in passing, and will help people even if they don’t ask her to. She’s self-conscious about coming across as rude or cold to people (at least the ones she likes) so she hopes that her actions make up for it.

She stopped training and fighting when she retired from bounty hunting, so she’s very out of practice when she arrives to Sandrock. She’s slowly building her skills back up again, this time to help the town and keep people safe. And because Pen kicking her butt and nicknaming her “Skinny Arms” will never not tick her off.

She’s close with her Aunt and Uncle, who both live and work in Highwind. They’re the ones who send her letters during the game, she hasn’t seen or spoken to her parents in years. She met Nia while Zoey living with them in Highwind and Nia took to her very quickly, she could talk more than enough for the two of them.

Zoey wasn’t sure if a Builders like would suit her when she first started but she soon discovered that she loves making things with her own hands. She likes to experiment with different mediums of arts and crafts when she’s not working.

Here's what she looks like in game with the outfit I referenced!

#i needed to draw her and get my ideas written down or i was going to Explode #my time at sandrock #mtas #mtas builder #mtas oc #my time at sandrock builder #my time at sandrock oc #zoey the builder #my ocs #oc info #rogue does art stuff

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the-one-that-weeps · 28 days

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In 1914, Gustav Holst wrote a seven-movement orchestral suite by the name of "The Planets", Op 32°. Each fragment was associated with a celestial body and each had a unique title for their own.

Welcome to my 3 am anguish-fuelled non-essay connecting the Worst Girls Ever and their celestial counterparts in this suite.

Jupiter — Bringer of Jollity: (spoilers for Red ending)

The first thing we know about Jupiter is that she is good. It's that she's smart and she's helpful and she's chosen. She's above the rest and the teacher let's her play with whatever team is losing. You'd think that would make her incredibly happy, a true vessel if joy?

Wrong. Jupiter is a "Bringer" of jollity. She fits like a piece with everyone, she's the peacemaker of the group, she's the first one to follow the current when one of the other characters has an idea. Did that make her any happier, ever, or did that just lift her higher into the sky, away from the ravenous hands of the believers?

For Jupiter, touch is vulnerability. The most times we see her "touch" (her model gets closer to other characters) is with Neptune in the yellow ending: when they're drunk and when she breaks the kitchen of the cabin. We also see her get closer to people when they're being attacked, under pressure. She's the character that touches the most, that's why her model is in between Venus and Neptune, she maximises proximity.

But is that proximity even allowed? Jupiter holds the longest distance from one celestial body to another in the solar system. Is the touch fake? Is the touch nothing? Isn't she satisfied? What is the point if she cannot be good forever?

Jupiter wants to feel. She wants to exist. She wants to be perceived as anyone else, to touch, to hurt, to dig her hands into the dirt and stain them with sickness, to devour, to consume, to live. She doesn't drip with ichor like Neptune and she doesn't shine like Venus, she is the colour of blood, lust, danger and passion. She dreams of hands tearing and dragging and clawing and shredding.

The colour of joy is red because the colour of life is blood.

Neptune — The Mystic: (spoilers for Blue Ending)

Our introduction to Neptune is distant. She interacts with Jupiter and Venus, but her actions remain lukewarm, halfhearted, like she doesn't really want to be there — and that's exactly why she is. In the introduction, the image we get of Neptune is (somewhat) like that of an outsider.

Neptune is sometimes harder to understand because of the way she talks, the way her speech is structured. Venus also requires more attention sometimes — but not for the same reasons — Venus just talks too genuinely, too honestly. Venus says how she feels and that's it. Jupiter isn't as hard to understand. She's perfect. She's good.

Even when Neptune is chosen in the interactions we still don't get as much information about her as the others.

Neptune let's the devil in — for revenge, for desire, for "please let me in" — because Neptune recognises the difference. She recognises that Venus and Jupiter are good, that they were born good (at least in her eyes), settles for that truth and ends up amplifying that barrier.

In the minutes before the disaster we see her itchy, we see her nerveous, like she already knows what's going to happen. Like she already knows she's different from the other two. Because they're trying and she's not. Because the gaze of the Mystic is cold even in the hottest days of August and because Neptune's 2d model is primordially twisted so that it looks like she's already stopped looking directly at the viewer, as if she doesn't want to see she's being seen, as if it all behaves like an outsider.

The devil misses us. We kicked her out and she misses us.

Venus — Bringer of Peace: (spoilers for yellow ending)

Quite an interesting name for a scapegoat. An interesting detail about Venus is that she never gets mad, Venus is just confused.

Venus craves the truth and craves understanding. Venus needs eyes to see and lights to be seen. She's bold in a way a child asking questions about rainbows is, she's safe until she opens her mouth.

Venus never really hurts anyone, but that doesn't mean it all remains peaceful inside. Venus wants her heart to see because her own eyes can't, because it's all so foreign, because Venus doesn't even understand the word "friend" all that much.

In the yellow ending, God talks about Venus too. "Human eyes see clearly by the light of god, but the devil by his own light, and therefore his own truth". In a way, by letting the devil in, are you letting in the truth? The more twisted you become, the more you discover yourself.

But does the truth really bring any peace?

#wktd #neptune wktd #jupiter wktd #venus wktd #we know the devil #i hate this.#i just really needed to get it out of my system #bramble rambles #mine ☜

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tenelkadjowrites · 4 months

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I keep meaning to sit down and try to find the best right words to describe how like. Seriously fucking insanely good your writing is, and properly explain all the things I love about it without sounding like a crazy person, but tbh I should probably just. Sound crazy. The way you write just blows my mind. It's all the things I've always wanted to accomplish as a writer, and you just do it so... Seamlessly. Your style is so perfectly balanced. Between how beautifully done your characterization are, the way you you write someone like Seonghwa is always so potently HIM, wed recognise him anywhere, there are glimmers of what we see irl winking at us all over him, but you've masterfully molded him into something entirely new as well—no matter what direction you take him in, he always feels authentic and real and maybe like a new, exciting iteration of himself, but he's recognizable instantly. You capture all his charms no matter where you take him. And the mc! God, you just do it so perfectly. The mc always feels real, solid, someone we can instantly relate to and sympathise with and sink into but it's never overbearing, I never feel like I'm being held hostage by an mc too developed to actually serve as a reader insert, but it's never a blank slate, either. And your timing, your timing is superb. I don't know how bigwig Hollywood directors are still struggling to execute proper pacing, when they could just take a page out of your book, imo. We're never rushed, but we never linger uncomfortably anywhere either. It's never boring. However you figure out what the exact right perfect details to include or draw attention to in each scene, I have no idea, but it always blows my mind. It's like a perfect filet mignon, no fat to trim, just flavor. Your stories feel exciting and often have me wanting to throw my phone or kick my feet, but they're also deeply human, grounded, real, relatable. They're like the perfect mixture of being so tactile and immersive that they're reality, but better—real life if it was shinier, sparklier, juicier. I'm sorry if any of this sounds weird or unwelcome, I just am so. So crazy glad I found your fics. The first thing I'll probably be doing if I ever get my own acc up and running again is boosting a ton of your works 😂

anon, this is a really wonderful message you sent in and i appreciate it more than i could probably put into words. i started writing stories when i was five years old and it's always been the centre of me. when i think of "what is my purpose of being on this planet", i know the answer is "to write". i don't mean that in a manner to make money or as a "side hustle", just as "this is the centre of my heart". i feel grateful that i know this about myself.

i think it speaks to Hwa as being my muse how many different aspects of him i can pull from to put in my stories. he's a fantastic performer who can convey so many different energies and emotions on stage but also has a kindness and thoughtfulness to him off stage we see so often. i pull from all those faucets of him when thinking of how to approach Hwa in a fic where someone will recognize him but still get a story to write too.

when it comes to the mcs, i want it to be engaging enough that the story can flow but not alienating enough that someone is pulled out. perhaps you don't relate to the mc in that she's bossy or makes choices you wouldn't but i try to show her thought process so at least someone reading could understand and not be pulled out of the story. over time, i have improved on stripping away personal physical details to make this work better and that is something i am constantly trying to improve on so that the mc is physically a blank slate and more of a personality focus.

as for the pacing, i think that just comes down to the sheer volume of planning i put in the longer fics. i try to have everything mapped out. i can see everything i write with perfect vivid clarity which enables me to linger on a scene and figure out what i want to emphasis. i studied film and am a bit of a film nerd so i am constantly drawing inspiration from a lot of movies and trying to translate that to my writings. my general rule of thumb is "every scene must propel the plot forward". i look at each scene and i think "does this move either the plot or character development forward?" if it doesn't, it gets cut.

when you said my fics are like reality but better, that means a lot because that is my goal. i had to grow up fast a kid and that left me always with my head in the clouds to what wonderful things could be lurking around the corner in a way to keep me going on bad days. that habit still exists now as a way i come up with stories - what if you're living your day to day life but something subtle shifts and possibilities open up? this is the basis for a lot of my fics: wallflower, arrow in the dark, addicting kitten, video girl, etc.

sorry for writing a novel back but your message was incredibly thoughtful and wonderfully kind and i wanted to write something thoughtful in return. thank you again.

#asks

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 1 year

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By: Freddie deBoer

Published: Apr 29, 2022

Marianne Eloise wants the world to know that she does not “have a regular brain at all”. That’s her declaration, on the very first page of her new memoir, Obsessive, Intrusive, Magical Thinking. The book catalogues her experience of a dizzying variety of psychiatric conditions: OCD, anxiety, autism, ADHD, alcohol abuse, seasonal affective disorder, an eating disorder, night terrors, depression. By her own telling, Eloise has suffered a great deal from these ailments; I believe her, and wish better for her. But she would prefer we not think of them as ailments at all. And that combination of self-pity and self-aggrandisement is emblematic of our contemporary understanding of mental health.

Eloise is a champion of neurodivergence, an omnibus term that’s recently ballooned in popularity, which can include autism, anxiety, borderline personality disorder, or indeed any other psychiatric condition that’s hot right now. The term is designed for making sweeping pronouncements. Forget the fact that, say, autism and schizophrenia are so different that they have at times been described as opposite conditions. Forget the fact that saying you’re neurodivergent has as much medical meaning as saying you have a disorder of the body. The idea is that there’s a group of people whose brain chemistry differs, in some beautiful way, from some Platonic norm. And it’s an idea that’s taken on great symbolic power in contemporary liberal culture.

There is, for example, a thriving ADHD community on TikTok and Tumblr: people who view their attentional difficulties not as an annoyance to be managed with medical treatment but as an adorable character trait that makes them sharper and more interesting than others around them. (They still demand extra time to take tests, naturally.) It’s also easy to come across social media users who declare how proud they are to be autistic; I’m glad they’re proud, but their repetitive insistence makes me wonder who exactly they’re trying to convince, us or them.

Darker, there’s the world of “DID TikTok”. DID, dissociative identity disorder, is a profoundly controversial condition, once known as multiple personality disorder. Many serious experts question whether it exists at all; at the very least it’s incredibly rare. And yet thousands of adolescents have diagnosed themselves with the condition, and happily perform their various personalities for their social media followers, typically in ways that defy all established psychological understandings of the disorder.

Against this backdrop, Eloise is a marketing department’s dream come true: hers is a story of the young, beautiful, dysfunctional — and successful. Eloise is the perfect 21st-century woman, from a certain internet-enabled philosophy of human affairs. She is an admirer of witchcraft and believes that women have a mythical connection to water. She does a lot of drugs and becomes bisexual. She uses Tumblr and travels the world, vacationing in Lisbon and the south of France, and moves to Los Angeles to be an actor, taking care to embed that period of her life in a self-defensive patina of irony. She lives an enviable life of obvious socioeconomic privilege, which she does not have time to recognise, as she’s too busy cataloging her psychiatric maladies.

She crams them into every last anecdote: apparently nothing happens to her that she does not ultimately attribute to those maladies. Eloise’s love of swimming as a child is, for instance, laboriously explained in terms of her neurodivergence. I’m talking thousands of words. It seems never to have occurred to her that a love of swimming is not exactly rare among children, or that she doesn’t have to justify her joy at being in the ocean by making it “deeper”. Again and again, she holds perfectly mundane attitudes and behaviours up to the reader and says “Isn’t this special?”

The label of neurodivergence is so vague and capacious, pretty much anything can be pulled into its orbit and made “diverse”. There’s a meme that crops upon Tumblr, TikTok and Twitter that starts with “the neurodivergent urge to…” and is immediately followed by, well, just about anything a person does. Common examples include the neurodivergent urge not to reply to an email or to order food in rather than cooking what’s in the fridge.

Take Eloise’s nightmares. She has, at times in her life, suffered from debilitatingly bad dreams that made sleep a constant source of fear and pain. This sounds like an awful condition, and she deserves sympathy. But she gives the game away when she writes: “Maybe my relationship with dreaming wasn’t like everyone else’s.” Not like everyone else’s, no. But certainly like that of many people who suffer from recurring and terrifying nightmares. Eloise writes that, according to the Mayo Clinic, nightmare disorder “only affects around 4-5% of adults, which shocked me: did adults really not have nightmares?” It’s as if she genuinely does not know the difference between 4% and zero.

It is perhaps comforting to see every last detail of one’s life as the product of some uncontrollable force. “I am this way because I was born this way,” Eloise writes, in a remarkably bald denial of personal responsibility. As a pawn of the various interior forces that do combat in her brain, she is adamant that there is nothing wrong with her, that her suffering is all in service to some deeper way to live, and that she is proud of the very conditions she asks us to treat as a perpetual get-out-of-jail-free card for her behaviour.

The implication is that the neurodivergent might just be better than other people. As with introverts, social media users have developed a discourse around neurodivergence that is nakedly self-celebratory, a bragger’s genre. Eloise has clearly endured a great deal of hardship, but like her culture she seems to feel that this hardship can only be given meaning by being woven into a journey of self-actualisation. Eloise writes that her life is “underpinned and ultimately made whole by obsession”. Can you imagine a sadder statement: an adult telling you that there is nothing to distinguish her or give her value but her psychiatric conditions, conditions she shares with millions of others?

Diagnosis is the Holy Grail of the neurodivergence narrative. Eloise fixates on hers and its quasi-mystical powers. No reader could doubt that her problems are real, but she seems to have treated getting diagnoses like a consumer on Amazon. She states flat out, on several occasions, that she went shopping for an autism diagnosis, went to doctors with the express intent of wringing one out of them. There was a time when self-diagnosis was understood to be unhealthy, and perhaps embarrassing, but this is a brave new world we’re living in now.

Once enough people insist on mental illnesses as upbeat and fashionable lifestyle brands, then any of us who oppose it are guilty of the most grave sin of all, the sin of perpetuating stigma. It’s stigma to call autism a disorder, despite the fact that it renders some completely nonverbal and unable to care for themselves; it’s stigma to suggest that someone with ADHD bears any responsibility at all for problems at school or work; it’s stigma to speak the plain fact that people with psychotic disorders sometimes commit acts of violence under the influence of their conditions. It’s stigma, in other words, to treat those of us with mental illnesses as anything else than wayward children.

Stigma, that cartoon monster, has never been in the top 100 of my problems in 20 years of managing a psychotic disorder, but never mind; stigma is the ox to be gored in contemporary pop culture, and so we must fixate on it to the point that we sideline the health, safety and treatment of those with mental disorders.

What I find tragic about those who buy into the neurodivergence narrative is that they become their illnesses. And yes, there are alternatives. Eloise and people like her seem never to consider one of the possible ways that they could have dealt with their myriad disorders: to suffer. Only to suffer. To suffer, and to feel no pressure to make suffering an identity, to not feel compelled to wrap suffering up in an Instagram-friendly manner. To accept that there is no sense in which her pain makes her deeper or more real or more beautiful than others, that in fact the pain of mental illness reliably makes us more selfish, more self-pitying, more destructive, and more pathetic. To understand that and to accept it and to quietly go about life trying to maintain peace and dignity is, I think, the best possible path for those with mental illness to walk.

But in this culture, all must be monetised, all must be aspirational, anything can be marketed. Eloise lacks the self-awareness to ask whether there’s something exploitative and ugly about turning psychological illness into fodder for soap opera and motivational posters. Again and again in this book, Eloise gins up the kind of statement on mental health that you might find in an Instagram meme, wedges it awkwardly into some prosaic story about her youth, and then skips away. At one point she mocks “Airbnb-style Live Laugh Love signage”, and I could only think, you’re writing a book filled with it.

The most real, most human, most honest, and most humane part of Eloise’s book is something she wrote in a journal in 2009, when she was a teenager:

I fear my mind, as one single assembly by one fireman on fire safety in primary school caused this deep-seated fear. That shows the true extent of my mind’s power over me. Although these things are unlikely to happen, just yet, I fear every one of them one day. I don’t need a doctor to tell me that is a problem. But I want, so badly, to get better.

This is what it’s actually like to have a mental illness: no desire to justify or celebrate or honor the disease, only the desire to be rid of it. But the modern conception of neurodivergence (and disability activism generally) wants to have it both ways. Sometimes, people would prefer for you to think of their conditions as debilitating hindrances for which they may demand special dispensation. And sometimes they would like them to be seen as positive personality quirks that make them unique.

It is hard to witness the damage that has been done to this young woman, by a culture that insists she views her suffering as part of a beautiful journey. Today’s activists never seem to consider that there is something between terrible stigma and witless celebration, that we are not in fact bound to either ignore mental illness or treat it as an identity.

Were we wiser and more serious, we might be able to see psychiatric disorders as both natural and lamentable, as beyond the control of the individual but still within their responsibility. We would have sympathy for those who suffer from them, but recognise that sympathy only accrues to those whose conditions are unfortunate, unhealthy. We might be honest and say that, yes, it’s bad to be afflicted with psychiatric disorders.

We might, then, have the courage to say that mental illness sucks, that there’s nothing good about it, that the efforts to bend it into some superpower of greater creativity or deeper living is sour grapes from those who can’t escape. We might help people like Eloise, rather than celebrating them as self-actualised girlbosses. We might have the wisdom to ease her suffering, while we patiently tell her that there’s nothing beautiful about it.

Somewhere along the way we overshot “destigmatize” and ended up at “celebrate” and “reward.”

Not everything needs to be completely destigmatized.

#mental illness as identity #neurodivergent #neurodivergence #attention seeking #personal identity #personal responsibility #external locus #mental health #mental health issues #victimhood culture #victimhood #religion is a mental illness

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waiting-for-motivation · 2 years

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midnight love

summary: Jake drunkenly flirts with his best friend. He can‘t keep his hands to himself.

request: Can you write best friends to lovers with a shy reader with glasses with a little bit smut ~ @daddysfavoritesexkitten

pairing: Jake Lockley x Reaer

warnings: alcohol consumption, smut, cunnilingus, mustache, overstimulation, no p in v

words: 1385

a/n: I love Jake soooo much and even though he is not as brutal as he seems in the show, I hope I still got his character right, maybe a bit softer but that is nothing new in my fics :) hope you like it❤️

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

The front door starts shaking all of a sudden. A soft clatter becomes louder and eventually someone kicks against the wood, followed by many spanish insults. (Y/n) immediately recognises the muffled voice, so she leaves her comfortable place on the couch. She opens the door to a rather drunk Jake. He was leaning against the door, now falling over and grinning at his best friend from the floor.

“Good evening, bonita“, Jake whispers with a slur, stumbling over his own words. (Y/n) sighs deeply, before she kneels down and wraps an arm around her friend, helping him into a halfway standing position. He is warm and so close, which makes her heart beat faster. (Y/n) desperately tries to cover her legs with her oversized shirt, keeping Jakes eyes from her panties. (darling)

“Eres hermosa“, Jake flirts, raising his eyebrows in a drunkenly seducing way, which makes (Y/n) giggle. When Jake leans forward, their noses almost touching, feeling their shared breath, she stops breathing. He is drunk and means not one word leaving his mouth. Jake flirts with everyone, she is nothing special, just another girl. (You‘re gorgeous)

“Jake, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?“, (Y/n) asks while trying to pull her friend towards her couch. With one of her arms around him and two of his around her body, this is rather difficult. But eventually, (Y/n) can push him onto her couch.

“I missed you. He estado pensando en ti todo el día, bebé“, Jake confesses, although his friend has no idea what he is trying to say. Her spanish skills are based on the few words he taught her, but his drunk mumbling makes it hard to understand even the pet names. (I was thinking of you all day, baby)

The light coming from the tv illuminates Jakes perfect facial features, also showing (Y/n) a small injury on his brow. Her eyes go wide, and she quickly reaches for his face, examining the bloody cut closer. “What did you do? Who did you kill this time?“

“I didn’t kill anyone, bonita“, Jake says while raising both his hands. He enjoys the soft touch of his friend, even closes his eyes for some time. All these past years, he only knew violence and pain, but with (Y/n) came the realisation that touch can also be innocent and soothing. “There was this pendejo, I had to put him in his place, but I did not kill him!“ (asshole)

Whispering his name one last time, (Y/n) tries to leave for the bathroom, to get Jake at least an antiseptic and a patch. Jake has other plans, reaching for his friend and pulling her as close as possible. Now sitting in his lap, (Y/n) desperately avoids direct eye contact with Jake.

“Hey, look at me. Tienes unos ojos hermosos“, Jake tells his friend, even placing a hand on her cheek to lock their eyes. There is a happy smile on his lips as he takes her beauty in. “They always get in the way.“ With his thumb, Jake pushes (Y/n)s glasses from her nose and quickly places them next to him. (You have beautiful eyes)

“Jake, please, don‘t do this. You‘re drunk“, (Y/n) breathes as Jake leans his forehead against hers, their noses kissing. She can smell the cheap tequila on him and his significant aftershave. The hand not resting on her cheek, reaches for (Y/n)s lower back.

“I might be, but I know what I want. Te quiero, only you“, Jake says with his lips so close to (Y/n) that they touch hers with every word leaving his mouth. Their chests touch, so Jake can feel her heart freaking out. The corner of his mouth twitches. She is so shy, it makes him love her even more. (I want you)

“Come on, bonita, say the word and I leave“, Jake tells her with a shaky voice. His fingers caress her cheek. “or just kiss me.“

Taking one deep breath and closing her eyes, (Y/n) leans forward and finally connects their lips. Both have waited long for this kiss to happen, stealing glances during their movie nights or extending their goodbye hugs a little longer to stay in the warm embrace of their crush.

The kiss is soft, not like the ones Jake used to share with his hookups. Nothing about (Y/n) could be compared with them. She is sweet, innocent, and so kind. Jake feels at peace whenever he is close to her. The only rough thing is his mustache tickling her.

They can‘t stop, so addicted to the feeling of the others touch that the kiss turns into a makeout session. Jakes hand wanders to (Y/n)s ass, massaging her flesh and helping her grind on his lap. He can feel himself getting hard.

And then there is nothing holding Jake back. He knows (Y/n) wants this too. Both his hands take hold of (Y/n)s hips, and he pulls her under him in one swift motion, one of his legs between hers. He can already feel her wetness against his thigh. In a rush, he takes off her shirt, revealing her boobs. Jakes hands wander to them right away, so do his lips. He places delicate kisses on her sternum.

“So sexy, bebé“, Jake whispers as he places kisses all over (Y/n)s chest. Kiss by kiss, he moves from her breasts to her belly button and finally to her panties. Without hesitation, Jake nestles his nose against her covered pussy and takes a deep satisfied breath.

“Jake“, (Y/n) whimpers and shakes her head. She wants this as much as Jake does, but she fears he might do this just because he is drunk. She has one hand in Jakes dark curls. He moans and grins up at her, pulling her panties to the side and placing a short kiss on her cunt.

“Tonight is all about you, bonita. I want you to feel good“, Jake explains, and without another word he returns his focus on whats between (Y/n)s legs. Carefully, he removes her panties and immediately dives in. Jakes nose touches her clit, making (Y/n) wince and moan at the same time. His mustache is a weird feeling against her lips and yet stimulates her perfectly.

The moment Jake inserts one finger into her sensitive pussy, (Y/n)s back arches, and she grips his hair tighter. His lips start kissing and nibbling at her clitoris, preparing her for two more of his fingers. Jake starts caressing her inner walls, looking for that one particular spot to bring her to the edge.

He had his eyes closed for the most time, just enjoying the smell and feeling of his lover. When he opens them, he gets greeted with the angelic sight of (Y/n). She squirms and writhes underneath him. “Bebé, let go for me.“

Jake finds that spongy spot inside her and triggers her orgasm. Her walls tighten around his fingers and his mustache gets drenched in her wetness. But Jake doesn‘t stop, he is taken aback by her whole being, not wanting to leave this safe place. So he pulls another two orgasms out of her, all while he grinds his lower half against the couch.

(Y/n) is panting heavily when Jake removes his face from her cunt, her wetness all over his chin and mustache, his hair messy from her pulling on it. His smile is wide, and he can‘t stop himself from pressing his plush lips against hers, the kiss tasting very much like sex.

“Jake, you didn‘t cum“, (Y/n) says with a stutter. Her hands are already moving towards his crotch, but Jake stops her before she can even touch his chest, holding both her hands above her head.

“I already told you, bonita, tonight was all about you and your pleasure“, Jake states and caresses her cheek with his free hand. There is something in his eyes, maybe love and adoration. “You deserve it.“

“And you deserve a patch“, (Y/n) realizes with a giggle and manages to break free from Jakes grip, rolling from the couch and running towards the bathroom with a blanket wrapped around her naked body. She returns with a plaster covered in little bees. Her smile widens the second she lays eyes on Jake with said patch and an annoyed but still loveable expression.

taglist: @lightning-wolffe @gwenebear @caswinchester2000

#jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley fic #jake lockley smut #jake lockley oneshot #jake lockley imagine

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