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azullumi · 4 months

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“it’s a quarter after one, i’m all alone, and i need you now” ; wanderer

summary — how does he react to you calling him in the middle of the night over some silly reason?

pairing — wanderer (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, modern settings, not proof-read (i never proof-read) ; ficlet/scenario

words — 760

note — how do people even write dialogues rhat smoothly like i write a single sentencd of whatever they’re saying and i just think, “oh no they won’t say that” and i have to rewrite it 5 more times

a loud sound of a ring echoes throughout the room, disrupting the peaceful flow of tranquil silence that rests in the corners of the place, and abruptly pulling him out of his sleep. wanderer groans, hand reaching out to grab his phone that sits on the nightstand.

the flash of the screen blinded him for a moment, causing him to squint his eyes until his vision adjusted to the brightness.

1:15. the numbers on the very top of his screen says. displayed along with it was your caller id, your contact saved as a nickname that he gave you.

although he didn’t have to question who was calling him at this time as he knew it was you—you were the only exception to his do not disturb focus of his phone, the only contact whose notifications can go through the strict barriers of the status.

the persistent melody continues to ring for a moment before he answers, “this better be important.” despite the nature of his words, there lingered no hint of malice in his tone but instead, a curious blend of weary patience and unspoken understanding. he didn’t mind you bothering him even if it’s nothing important—your intrusion was always a welcome one.

“hey, were you sleeping?”

“not anymore, obviously. what is it?” the line carried the subtle rustle of movement, the telltale sound of rustled sheets, as wanderer shifted and sat upright from where he was, his head resting against the headboard as he waited for you to answer.

“can you accompany me as i go get water?”

a confused ‘huh?’ comes out from his line. just the single syllable itself wrapped with layers of many words, asking you if you were seriously saying that. if you really called him at this time just so you could have him accompany you with the mundane task of getting water.

“i just watched something scary, okay? it’s not my

fault that the house in the movie looked similar to mine and also do you know what time—don’t laugh!”

“are you genuinely afraid over something as trivial as that?” wanderer says amidst the fading echoes of his laughter, leaving a ghost of what might pass for a smile on his expression. he seems amused over the predicament that you were having; that is just like him, finding entertainment in your suffering.

“whatever, i’m going to go get my water now.” what proceeded was the sound of your footsteps, indicating your journey to the kitchen. “don’t you dare hang up on me.”

“i wasn’t planning to.”

and as if i would. but the unspoken words dissolved on his throat before he could even get himself to say it, leaving him with nothing but silence as he listened to your voice instead, talking about whatever as if a soothing balm that eases the fear which nestles in your nerves.

“i saw this cat earlier this morning and it was so grumpy. it reminded me of you.”

“you think that in every grumpy cat that you see.”

“well, you act like one.”

in that moment, the simple act of conversing between you two becomes a lifeline, bridging the gap between fear and solace. your topics jumped from one point to another, never letting the silence fill in the moment—wanderer never ceases to respond to whatever you say, a testament of how he’s always there for you despite the playful teasing sprinkled throughout.

there was the sound of the door closing before he hears you say: “got my water now.”

“figured.”

silence envelopes both sides of the line, albeit, it only lasted for a short moment before being broken up by your voice.

“thanks for picking up the phone.” i mean, he could have chosen to just ignore the ring and continue to sleep but no, he didn’t. instead, he chose to answer and comply with your silly little request because your ass was too scared to go out of your room in the middle of the night, thinking that someone or something was going to come after and chase you just like that one scene in what you watched. he stayed with you all throughout, letting the comfort of his voice dispel the shadows that threatened to linger—even when he was scaring you and telling you that he can hear something.

“not like i don’t answer every time.” you could call him, ring his phone many times no matter what time it is, and he would pick up the phone every single time; that’s just how he is, for you and only you.

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nolita-fairytale · 10 months

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don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter one: june/july

summary: you and carmy plan a wedding like it's the opening of a new restaurant.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov

wc: 3.4k

listen to: let's get married (bleachers cover) - mitski

a/n: the long awaited wedding FIC!! welcome to part four of the 'make my heart surrender' universe (four part series). this takes place a month after the end of 'still into you' but before the carmy as your baby daddy headcanon series (my carmy masterlist is organized chronologically, if you'd like to read in order). anyways, i truly adore writing for these two and feel it important to note that after watching season 2, i've realized this has just become an animal of its own -- its own universe/timeline/entity which also means there AREN'T any SEASON TWO SPOILERS! this chapter was inspired by a conversation from two months ago between me and @carmensberzattos so courtesy of us, enjoy some healthy relationship-future husband!carmy. also don't worry syd will be starring in the next chapter. i missed her too. lmk if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist.

masterlist | part two

"let's just get married, don't wanna walk alone, so let's get married, 'cause we don't wanna walk alone or runaway." (bleachers, let's get married.)

'I just want to be married to you' are the words uttered (first by you, you think, but maybe he said it first, you really can’t remember) that lead you and Carmy to the decision that you should elope. Sooner rather than later, preferably, is what you both agree on. It’s not like you’re planning on having a big wedding anyways. How much work can a civil ceremony at City Hall and a nice dinner party afterwards be to pull off?

Famous last words.

You’re not sure how you’ve gotten from there to here, locked in a heated debate over menu edits with your fiance in the middle of your shared apartment when the sun’s just barely come up, but here you are.

“I’m just saying that we should be open minded and leave room for his artistic integrity!” Carmy passionately argues, winding you up as he makes his case.

“Artistic integrity? Carmy, are you kidding me right now? I-!” you fire back, shaking your head incredulously. “We said we were gonna keep everything chill.”

“It is chill!” he defends, matter-of-factly.

Oh, he’s just looking for a fight.

“There is nothing chill about a parm espuma and it certainly doesn’t belong anywhere near the carbonara!” you scoff, stubbornly. “I mean, the only reason he even brought up the idea of a goddamn espuma in the first place is because he was trying to impress you.”

Carmy’s jaw twitches in response as he grinds his teeth, a display of discomfort at the mere thought.

“He-he was not,” he denies with the kind of conviction of a five year old toddler who's sure as can be.

You shoot him a look.

“Carmen,” you warn him.

Sure it’s a silly thing to fight about, but there’s no malice in this argument. It’s all passion, artistry, and for lack of a better term, foreplay. You let out a sigh, softening before you rise out of your chair.

“Baby, when are you going to admit that you’re kind of a big deal and that people want to impress you?” you level with him, making your way over to your very stubborn and very insistent fiance. You settle down onto his lap, before tucking a stray curl behind his ear as you break, giving the sweetest smile.

He laughs dryly, averting his eyes from you because he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stand his ground (especially when you’re looking at him like that).

You’re right. And he knows you’re right.

And Carmy’s never been able to resist you for long anyways.

A fox-like grin spreads across your lips and you know you’ve won the argument when you feel a pair of hands snake around your waist.

“Don’t push it,” he warns you, seeing the look on your face as he shakes his head, finally returning his eyes to yours.

You raise an eyebrow, “You like that I push.”

He nods slowly in surrender, his face softening as he asks you:

“You really want to fight about this?”

You shake your head with a laugh.

“No, of course not! Of course, I don’t want to fight about this!” you exhale, sliding your hands over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. “But I do think that your new buddy is trying to impress us and that it may be wise for us to reign him in – clear the air on what it is we’re looking for.”

A beat.

“Don’t get me wrong. Of course, we can leave room for creativity… but I don’t want our wedding party to turn into some pretentious fine dining fancy party.”

“Well, we did meet because of some pretentious fine dining fancy thing,” he points out, giving your hip a squeeze.

You giggle, “How could I forget?”

You shake your head once more, leaning in to press your lips against his. Carmy inhales deeply, enjoying the feel of your lips on his, your arms wrapped around his neck, the weight of your body on his lap.

You indulge him for a moment, deepening the kiss as you feel your future husband relax against you, because you really are happy that Carmy’s made a new friend.

Carmy had met a private chef a few months ago and had been trying to hire him for the restaurant for a while now. Wanting to work for himself, the chef had respectfully declined all advances, but he and Carmy had kept in touch, and it looked as if the relationship could potentially extend outside of the four walls of a kitchen. Since you both agreed that no one from the restaurant should work the party, it had been good timing (making a new friend and the fact that he was a private chef) and the right move for Carmy to ask his new friend to cater the wedding.

“Fine,” you resign yourself, pulling away from the kiss. “Derek can keep the liquid nitrogen but that is as far as it goes.”

Carmy shoots you a look – one that says he’s not quite convinced.

“And I will be more open minded in the spirit of… artistic integrity. But I’m not changing my mind about courses. Family style or bust, baby,” you negotiate, a serious look in your eyes.

Carmy thinks it over for a moment before finally coming to a resolution.

“Deal,” Carmy nods with the same intensity as a ‘yes, chef.’

You nod too, completing the agreement.

“I want it to be real, Carm. I want it to be us,” you reiterate, your voice soft as you make your condition loud and clear.

“I know,” he returns, just as determined and committed to the idea as he is to you.

You’re satisfied with the resolution – even more satisfied with the fact that you’ve come to it together.

“You know…” he starts, something in his voice that you can’t quite make out, unsure if you’re going to like what’s about to come out of his mouth. “... it could be a perfect menu if you just let me-.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Carmen!” you interrupt, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

You are so not playing this game today.

“You don’t even know what I was-!”

“Yes, I do! You are not catering your own wedding party,” you protest, adamantly.

You know him too well.

He laughs, shaking his head as he leans back against his chair, like he’s in high school again, and you’ve just caught him sneaking back into the house.

“God, I love you! But sometimes you drive me up the wall, Carm,” you groan out of frustration, eliciting another laugh from his chest as you hang your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder this time.

“Such a control freak,” you sigh, against his chest.

“Thought you like it when I take control,” he murmurs, beginning to leave kisses across your exposed skin.

You giggle partially because it tickles, and mostly because of what Carmy’s said.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

You lift your head and Carmy kisses you again, this time savoring the way your lips feel against his for a little while longer – just long enough to remind himself that he wants to have the option to sneak away in the middle of your wedding party to have sex much more than he wants cater to be in control all the time.

Sometimes, he thinks to himself, control is overrated anyways.

Only sometimes.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, letting go of the idea. “I’ll get back to Derek about final menu edits and make sure he knows that while we want him to be creative, we also want to keep it… you know….”

“Chill?” you emphasize.

“Chill,” he confirms.

“Okay. Thank you, baby,” you smile softly, trying your best to enjoy the temporary moment of peace between the two of you. Carm squeezes your hip as you roll your eyes with a sigh, muttering an:

“Oh fuck.”

“What’s up?”

You shake your head again, laughing incredulously before letting out another sigh.

“Just wait till we go through this again with the cake.”

“Fuck!” Carmy shouts towards the ceiling, throwing his head back as you laugh. “Why did we say we wanted to plan a wedding again?”

“Well baby, I don’t think either of us can pass up on a chance to create a menu,” you giggle, leaving a few kisses along his jawline before you make your way up to his nose. “Can you imagine if we decided to have a full-on wedding? That’d be a freaking mess.”

He chuckles, “It’d be like opening another restaurant.”

“Yeah, pass,” you hum, so glad to have dodged that bullet.

-----------------------------------------

By the time you and Carmy are even ready to focus on the cake portion of said wedding-dinner-party it’s a month later. You’ve been through half of the bakeries in the city, you think, and something’s just felt off. You’re practically eating your words, as it dawns on you that you’re having the exact same thought as Carmy: that it could just be perfect if you were able to make it yourself.

Then again, you remind yourself that a cake is an entirely different thing versus running a dinner service, so it can’t be that unhinged to have these thoughts, right?

But you and Carmy made an agreement, so in solidarity, you decide it’s only fair for you to make like Tammy Wynette and stand by your man.

You’re grateful for the half day you have today (“Summer Fridays”, as it’s so fondly referred to around your office) – and the fact that you get to work from home. What it means for you is that today you can clock out early and pick up samples from the tenth bakery (okay, so maybe it’s the eleventh but truthfully, you’ve lost count) in the running for your wedding cake.

You change out of your pajamas for the first time today, throwing on a slip dress and one of Carmy’s crisp, white Ralph Lauren button downs – worn layered and open like a cardigan – before you head to the bakery, and then eventually, The Bear.

The restaurant is closed for the afternoon, as they do a shift change over: some stay and take a break, others go home, let the dinner crew come in and take over. It’s different these days and while some days you miss it – the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, the sounds of an ‘all day’ shouted by the expeditor, the careful dance that is working in a kitchen – you remind yourself that you’re enjoying a half day, and that when you’d chosen to leave, you were ready for a change.

After entering The Bear, you make small talk with Gary while he finishes turning over the dining room for dinner, catching up over the flag football league he’s recently joined – one, it seems, to be taken very seriously by all participants. You tell him that you’re here with wedding cake samples, and he’s more than eager to give you some space to set up, because who doesn’t love free cake? Mid-sentence, Gary gestures towards a table for you to set up on, as you begin to unpack your large brown paper bag.

“Well, well. Look who it is,” Marcus calls out, as soon as he sees you. “Heard a rumor you were out here. You brought cake?”

“I brought cake,” you repeat as confirmation, turning to see your dear friend and mentee. “But don’t worry. I’ll be thinking about yours the whole time.”

He snickers, moving in for a hug.

“‘S Good to see you, Chef. How ya been?” he asks, enveloping you in his arms for a tight squeeze.

“Good to see you too, Marcus. I’m good. Had a half day today so… you know, we’ve just been busy with wedding stuff. But what’s going on with you? What’s new?” you answer, turning the focus back onto him.

“Oh you know. The usual. Though, I’ve been workin’ on some new shit for Syd’s new menu when I’m not here,” he answers, a broad smile spreading across his lips as he talks about.

“Jeez, Brooks. I know, Carm’s got ya busy. When the hell do you ever sleep?” you ask, as you shake your head.

“I don’t,” he answers plainly.

And just as you’re about to remind Marcus to get some rest, Sugar comes bursting through the front doors, her rounded belly full on display now that she’s had a chance to tell almost everyone the news of her pregnancy.

“Hey! Sorry I’m running late,” Sugar says, announcing her arrival. “Got tied up running an errand and then I had to stop at the store for Tums. This baby is killing me with the heartburn these days. Fucking christ.”

“Oh, no big deal. I haven’t even seen Carmy yet,” you shrug, as she mutters a surprised ‘oh’ and Marcus mumbles something about going to get Carmy. “It’s good to see you!”

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus shouts, heading back to the kitchen while you and Sugar exchange hellos.

“Awww, it’s good to see you too, sweetie,” she smiles, pulling you in for your second hug of the day.

This is something you miss about working in the kitchen: the camaraderie, the found-family, all the love.

“Wow this is… quite the spread,” Sugar mentions, eyeing the cakes you’ve laid out on the table.

“Yeah… they had a lot of ideas, I guess,” you say with a shrug.

Sugar shoots you an unconvinced look.

“Okay, fine. I had a lot of ideas…” you admit guiltily.

“...aaaand no one is going to do it the way you want it to be done,” Sugar sighs in the middle of your sentence.

“And they were more than willing to play. I couldn’t help myself!” you finish, defending yourself.

“Well, your enthusiasm is one of the many things I love about you, but… yeah, this is a lot,” Sugar grins as she gestures towards the overwhelming amount of cake you’ve just laid out on the table.

Regardless, Sugar really can’t wait to be your sister-in-law.

“Speaking of… I thought this was just a small wedding. It looks like you’re preparing to feed the entire French Army during Marie Antoinette’s reign.”

“Oh it still is – small,” you answer, simply. “I went a little overboard, didn’t I?”

“Why go through all this trouble? You might as well have a small ceremony instead of-,”

“No!” you protest, hearing another voice say the same thing.

“Sugar, we’ve already told you that we don’t want to do anything big!” Carmy adds, as soon as he enters the dining room.

“Hey, babe,” he says, sending you the softest smile as he looks your way.

“Hey you,” you smile in return as he approaches you, giving him a short ‘hello’ peck on the lips.

“Fak attack!” Fak cries out, as he enters the dining room. “Ooooh cake tasting!”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, as Fak is quickly followed by some of the line cooks that have just wrapped up lunch service.

It’s then that you hear Tina’s voice, growling something in Spanish as Richie speaks way too loudly about god knows what, as Ebra follows behind, somehow in the middle of a story that has little to do with whatever Tina and Richie are going on about.

You smile to yourself, because you really do miss this part.

“I told everyone we were doing a cake tasting,” Carmy starts, gesturing towards the rest of the staff as they join you. “That cool?”

“Totally. We have more than enough to share,”

“That’s true,” Sugar says. "And I can't complain because the baby is reeeeaaally craving cake these days."

As everyone at The Bear crowd around the circular dining table where you set up the cake tasting, you all enjoy bites here and there, comparing notes, sharing reactions to each flavor combo.

Earl grey & lemon. A classic red velvet. And of course, you had to get a little weird with the black sesame clementine combination you’d dreamed up with the pastry chef you’d been working with.

“I think my favorite is the black sesame and clementine but I doubt it’s a cake everyone will like. Doesn’t have the crowd appeal we probably should keep in mind,” you murmur to Carmy as the two of you watch his staff go on about the tiramisu-inspired one.

“Well, babe, it’s our wedding! We can do whatever we want,” he encourages you.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, paralyzed with indecision.

“The tiramisu one is good. I’m leaning towards that,” Carmy shares with you, eager to hear your thoughts.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s a little too on the nose?” you reply, unsettled and unsure that any of these are right.

“Why don’t you guys just let me make it?” Marcus interjects, asking the question he’s been wondering this entire time.

“I-,” you start, unable to help the fact that your eyes begin to wet with emotion. “Really?”

He laughs, glancing sideways at you.

“Uh yeah. I’m a little offended neither of you did in the first place,” Marcus teases the two of you, though you know there’s some truth to it.

You and Carmy exchange a look that says something along the lines of: ‘oh shit.’

“Well, we didn’t think you’d-,” you stammer, beginning to explain the why behind you and Carmy’s hesitation in the first place.

“We just thought you’d want to- that you should be able to enjoy the party,” Carmy adds, finishing your sentence, his eyes widening as he realizes that you both kinda fucked up.

“Chefs,” he says, looking from you to Carmy once more, with a seriousness in his voice as he rises to his feet. “It would be my honor. And just because I’m makin’ the cake doesn’t mean I won’t be able to enjoy the party. I can do it in the days leading up to it.”

“Oh-, okay, yes! Yes!” you cry, leaping to your feet this time, as if you’re accepting Carmy’s proposal again.

Richie rolls his eyes in response, groaning as he mutters something snarky to Fak, as Marcus pulls you into the biggest bear hug.

“You all are a bunch of saps,” he scoffs, directing this next comment to Marcus this time. “You big softie!”

“Richie!” Sugar hisses, glaring the sharpest daggers from her eyeballs into Richie’s skull.

“Oh fuck off, Richie,” you snort, with a laugh. “You’re just salty because… wait. Carm, you haven’t asked him yet?”

“Babe, I-,” Carmy whines, his eyes wide. “You just ruined the surprise!”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah ‘fuck’ is right,” he pouts, though he can never stay upset with you for too long.

“What the fuck are you guys even talking about?” Richie asks, squinting as he looks between the two of you.

You and Carmy share a knowing look, deciding that now is a better time as ever.

“We want you to be our witness, Cousin. At the courthouse,” Carmy says, a soft intensity in his eyes as he answers Richie’s question.

“Jesus Christ,” Sugar snarks, with an eye roll as she realizes she’ll be stuck with him at the damn courthouse as well.

“Wh-?” Richie begins to ask, looking from Carmy to you, then back to Carmy again, tears welling up in his eyes as he realizes what Carmy’s just said. “You-? Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, in a well-duh kind of tone. “Plus you know I can’t get married without my Ava there.”

“And sign the marriage license and everything?” Richie balks, because he really can’t believe it.

“Yeah,” you reassure him.

“Yeah. I mean, fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!” Richie declares, even more sentimental than Marcus this time. “Shit, Cuz… Hell yeah, I’ll sign the fuck out of that marriage license as your witness.”

Tina snickers, exchanging a look with Sugar, and earning a glare from Richie. He lowers his voice, directing the question towards you this time:

“Oh and uh… cool if Ava still sings “Love Story?” I kinda promised her she could sing a Taylor Swift song as part of my best man speech and she insists that one is about you and Carmy,” Richie asks, looking around suspiciously, afraid of someone else hearing.

“Awwww, Richie. Of course,” you coo, only melting inside a little at the thought.

“What?” Richie snaps, realizing that he hasn’t been as discreet as he thought he was.

Sugar snorts in response, earning a laugh from both Tina and Marcus.

It’s Marcus’ turn to roll his eyes at Richie this time.

“What?” Richie repeats, this time with a little more annoyance in his voice.

Sugar smirks, firing back with a:

“Who’s the big softie now, Rick?”

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #still into you #make my heart surrender #dont want to walk alone

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twyftwyt · 4 months

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Warnings: slight smut, anger

Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

Authors note: this is a little something I found in my drafts that I’m debating on continuing (as a one shot tho)

“I thought we talked this through. Stop acting up. Not in public. Not right now.”

And he had a point. He really did. We both hated making a scene in public and we rarely had spats. We knew better than to throw fits and fists at each other, but my vision was so blurry from all the hurt and anger that my brain went blank the moment we stepped out of the restaurant.

We had a small argument before we left the hotel, to grab dinner with everyone else, but we agreed on postponing the conversation for later. For when we’re alone, between the comfort of the four walls of our hotel room. But things didn’t go as planned and escalated pretty quickly when something in me snapped the moment he made a sarcastic comment towards me, at dinner. I bit back, of course, and he didn’t like it. We were both on edge the whole evening. I could see him fidgeting a lot, tapping his knee, looking over at me and I purposefully ignored him. Which steered the pot even more.

“You know better than to act like this. Please, I don’t have the patience to do this tonight.”

That was the last text message that I got from him. At one point I got up and went to the toilet only to come back and sit on the other end of the table. As far away from him as possible. A change he noticed in an instant. I was too far gone to start acting right so I just grabbed my phone from where it was laying on the table and started typing away as fast as I could. My annoyance visible to those around me now.

“So you get a free pass in the asshole department and I don’t?!”

The moment I hit sent and my message displayed as “Seen” my eyes shot up at him. And he was already glaring at me. His eyes were low and darkened. I knew I hit a nerve. And I knew that I knew better than to do that, but I was seeing red at this point. I saw him move in his seat till he got his wallet out and put a 50 dollar bill on the table.

“That should cover our dinner. We’re going back to the hotel, because whatever was in that salad is not doing my stomach any good right now.”

What a decent liar. He got up from the table and motioned at me with his index finger. A lump got stuck in my throat, cause I knew what was coming. I hated fighting with him. Especially in cases where the fight had gotten so stupid that we’ve both already lost sense of reality and the thing we were fighting over.

I excused myself from the table and followed in his footsteps quickly. The air outside was cold and dry and I felt his arm wrap around me. His hot breath tickled my hair when I felt his lips press against my temple.

“You wanna finish that conversation in person?”

He felt hot to the touch and his body was starting to shake. Not from the coldness, I knew I had pressed a sensitive button.

“I don’t wanna fight, Noah.”

My tone was more desperate than I intended it to be.

“Then why do you keep saying silly shit?”

“Because you push me, Noah. I don’t even think you realize how you push my buttons at times and it takes all the strength I have in me to not go back to my old ways and tell you to go fuck yourself. It’s stupid, the shit we’ve been fighting over, these last few days. Have you noticed that?! We’re not fighting over little scenarios and situations, it’s deeper than that. But I’m not ready to talk about it and apparently so aren’t you. And that’s okay. We’ll get to it at some point, but we.can’t.keep.doing.this.”

I blurted out the whole thing in one breath and got dizzy shortly after shutting my mouth. We had picked up the pace and he was gripping my arms so tight that I felt like I could fly off the ground if I lift my feet.

“I think we trigger unhealed parts of our brains, thus we go back to old ways and I hate it. Sometimes I don’t even know what to do with you.”

I didn’t know what to do with him either.

“I don’t want fight over silly little things, cause we’re just gonna get tired of each other at one point. But you’re right. We do trigger each other in a way that I can’t understand neither explain and I don’t know what to do with us.”

I knew we weren’t gonna solve this overnight. So we spent the rest of the walk to the hotel in silence. We got in the elevator and as he was fumbling for his key, I leaned on the wall behind me. His tall frame was hovering over me and I could see his shoulders were tense. We were both worked up from tonight. The moment our elevator announced our floor and the doors opened, he grabbed my hand and lead me to our room. He was always firm but gentle. He was quick in his reactions and he kept his composure at all times. I admired him a lot for that. But he was too calm sometimes. Too composed. Too silent. Too much in his head. I was an anxious over thinker and he was avoidant. And we were trying so hard to give each other the needed space and reassurance, but there were times like this, where our worlds crashed. When all we wanted was to just collide peacefully.

He threw his hoodie on the couch and got out of his shoes as soon as we closed and locked the door behind us. The room was dimly lit by only the nightstand lamps and the orange light illuminated off of his body.

“I’m getting in the shower. Do you need something?”

“From the shower?”

He rolled his eyes at me and I smiled at him.

“I wanna take your tank top off.”

And I didn’t mean it in a sexual way. I just wanted to feel him close, to feel the heat emanating from his body.

“Go on then.”

He lifted his arms in front of me.

“You have to sit on the bed, babe. I can’t reach that high.”

I rolled my eyes at him this time. He stepped backwards a few times until his legs hit the wooden board of the bed and he sank down on the soft cushions. I straddled him and untuck his tank top from his sweats, lifting it slowly from his torso. I felt his hands slide down my waist and my breath stuck in my throat. I removed his tank top and put it on the bed beside us, looking down at him, running my fingers through his hair.

“You’re giving me the eyes.”

His own breaths were coming out short.

“What eyes?”

“The “fuck me” eyes. You’re giving me the “fuck me” eyes.”

“I am not.” A lie.

“Don’t play.”

“Or what?”

I saw him clench his jaw and his hands slid down to my thighs, gripping them hard, pulling me down on him.

“You’ve given me plenty of reasons to not be gentle with you tonight. Don’t give me more, Y/N.”

At this point I was grinding my crotch against his, feeling his erection grow behind the three pieces of fabric separating us. So much for staying mad or talking things through.

“I can handle your worst, Noah.”

We were both still coming down from that fight earlier and I knew what to expect. But then again, I think always know with Noah. I’ve studied and learned his ways so well, that I can tell what he’s thinking about the minute I look at him. It’s crazy to think that we’re here now, looking back at what we started as. Just two shy people brought against our will to a friends party.

I felt his slick fingers unzipping my skirt and lifting it up higher around my waist. The button on my white shirt flew, because apparently he didn’t have the patience to unbutton them one by one and I awed in surprise.

“I need you to be a good girl and get on your knees for me.”

His voice was huskier than ever, his eyes darkened. That was the Noah that took over when he couldn’t handle his emotions at the moment and left them for later. And I gave in, cause I was the same in that sense. So I obeyed and slipped down to my knees in front of him, looking at up with deer eyes. What next, my love? What else are we gonna bury with sex?

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #this was staying in my drafts for far too long #noah sebastian smut

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bidisastersanji · 6 months

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Just published chapter 3 for the "Zoro learns french" story on AO3 if anyone's interested! Or you can read it right here (part 1, part 2, part 4) and under the cut:

“Sanjiiiiii,” the little doctor wails as he goes through the familiar motions of treating Sanji’s blood loss. “Who did this to you??” He sniffles loudly. “There are no mermaids here! I thought you were over this!”

Next to him, Luffy absentmindedly picks his nose- seemingly amused by the situation- as the handful of straw hats gathered in the med bay whisper conspiratorially amongst themselves. What could have possibly caused the cook to pass out from a nosebleed?

Arms crossed under his chest, Zoro’s eye flits nervously to Robin’s and is unsurprisingly met with her ever impassive and mysterious smile, which he notes reach her eyes. She most likely heard everything, Zoro figures. Probably even popped one of her ears near them to hear better. Fuck, this was such a mess. He swallows hard, his mind still racing with the explicit thoughts Sanji had drunkenly admitted to. Not to mention the long-awaited confirmation that he has indeed been sleeping with men at various ports. So maybe learning French had come in handy. He’d never tell Mihawk though.

“Et puis si tu savais ce que je te laisserais me faire- ” Sanji’s sultry words echo in his mind and Zoro’s ears feel dangerously warm at the memory. He really shouldn’t let himself imagine just what the cook would ‘let him do to him’. Fighting the unconscious impulse to screw his eye shut and shake this off, he follows Chopper’s movements in an attempt to distract himself from the lewd images he’s conjuring. He’s honestly surprised at the self-control he displayed earlier. He was so close to just yanking him by his stupid necktie, kissing him silly, locking his sinfully strong thighs around his hips and carrying him back to bed right then and there, the others be damned.

He can still feel a tightness in his shoulder muscles from the restraint it took to just sit there and listen to the man’s rant. Before he can dwell any more on his struggle, he’s thankfully interrupted by the sound of Chopper speaking up cheerfully, seemingly satisfied with his work.

“Sanji will be ok- he actually didn’t lose that much blood. Relatively. I think his training-” a snort from Usopp is quickly silenced by the doctor’s stern look. “must’ve kicked in. He should be fine by tomorrow morning; I've treated him with something that should help with his blood production.”

The crew, happy to learn their cook will recover just fine, file out of the room to rejoin the festivities, and Zoro does his best to linger just a little longer to peek at the blonde’s soft curls and endearing sleeping face. And if a little bit of pride swells in his chest from knowing he’s the cause of this nosebleed, well...no one will know.

He’s barely out of the room when he finds himself cornered by Nami. Damnit.

“I know Sanji was with you when this happened.” the redhead gives him a serious, pointed look.

Zoro scowls. ‘Yeah, and?”

“And???” her hands fly, up, exasperated. “What happened?”

“None of your business, witch.”

“Oh? And I suppose your debt is none of my business too, you big brute? You wouldn’t mind me adding to it for insubordination, would you?”

At the mention of his ever-growing debt to the navigator, Zoro’s left gaping down at her, mouth silently forming words in anger.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get me back for this, I’m the worst, blah blah blah.” Her eyes roll and her hands gesture him to move along. “Now tell me what happened. What could’ve possibly triggered Sanji’s nosebleed?” her eyes momentarily flit down to his chest and her lips curl to the side in a little smirk.

“Unless... no, your tits are always out. Just tell me what happened, and I’ll take 0.5% off your debt.”

Zoro sighs and relents. “I didn’t do much, he’s the one who came up to me and started screaming at me in French.”

Nami stares him down with an unimpressed look. “And then...?”

“And then I just answered him, and he passed out.” he grumbles out petulantly.

“That’s so weird- wait. What do you mean you ‘answered him’?” brown eyes narrow at him. “In French?”

“...yeah.”

“...you speak French?”

“Oui.”

Pain flares on his head from the navigator’s swift punch. She has no sense of humour, damn.

“Stop fucking around. Why would you of all people know how to speak French?”

“You don’t believe me?!” he tries to keep his indignant scream as low as he can.

“No- I’m saying that you wouldn’t go through the trouble of learning a language unless there was something in it for you- so there’s gotta be someth-” Nami comes to a realisation, and her eyebrows raise in shock, giving Zoro an appraising look.

“Oh my god.”

“Shut up.”

“You-”

“Shut up.”

By some stroke of luck, Nami leaves the elephant in the room alone, and returns to the matter at hand. “Ok, ok, so you speak French. I can only imagine what you must’ve said to get that kind of reaction from him, though.” She runs her hand across her face, tired.

---

Sanji wakes up and is immediately blinded by the sun shining through the window. Ugh. He groans at the dull, pounding feeling behind his eyes and turns to his side to hide from the offending light. He’d definitely had too much to drink last night.

He snorts into the pillow. He’d drunk so much he’d either dreamed or hallucinated that Zoro could speak French. Wow. His unfiltered imagination really went wild, didn’t it. He can almost hear the seductive words dripping like sex from dream Zoro’s lips, the rough timber of his voice causing a shiver to shoot up his spine and-

A distinctive, sterile smell cuts through his train of thought.

Wait.

Is this the infirmary?

He cracks open an eye, confirming his theory. This is the med bay all right. He groggily sits up, blanket falling from his torso, and catches a stain on his usually pristine white shirt from the corner of his eye. His chin drops to get a better look. Is that... blood?

His blood. He’s had this happen enough times to recognise the results of a nosebleed. Grumbling, he throws his legs over the bed to stand up, annoyed at the prospect of having to scrub the stain out of his good shirt, when it finally hits him. The moment his feet touch the floor, the evening and his current predicament suddenly click together and bring his thoughts of hydrogen peroxide and baking powder to a screeching halt.

A beat passes.

Like a rubber band stretched tight, a myriad of thoughts is catapulted to the forefront of his mind, jumbling together in a mess of realisations. Zoro speaks French. Zoro sounds unfairly sexy when he does. How long has he spoken French. Where did he even learn it. Zoro probably overheard his conversation with Robin. Zoro understood the filthy things he told him. To his face. Zoro flirted with him.

His face burns even brighter at the memory of that last one. Oh god. He even called his dick “big” right to his face.

Well-versed in burying his feelings deep deep down (years of practice), Sanji staggers through his usual morning routine. Once back in the comfort of his kitchen, his hands go into autopilot mode as he preps for a big healthy brunch to revive his nakama from a long night of festivities.

It takes him a second longer than usual to notice the creak of the door as someone walks into the kitchen, and he doesn’t bother turning around to see who it is, too busy trying to catch up on his cooking schedule from his late rise. Luffy will be up soon, and he needs to satiate the black hole that is his captain’s stomach.

“Oi. Tu cuisines quoi.”

(Oi, what’re you cooking.)

“J’prépare un brunch bien gras. Je suis sûr que ça soulagera la gueule de bois collective.” Sanji absentmindedly answers the annoying swordsman. Tch. Always up in his business.

(I'm cooking a greasy brunch. I'm sure it will help relieve the collective hangover.)

“Ça sent bon. Je peux goûter?” (It smells good. Can I taste?)

The mosshead’s gorilla arm comes into view from over his shoulder as he reaches to dip his hand into the batter Sanji’s whipping up, and the cook slaps his hand away and heavily crushes his foot without even breaking his rhythm.

“Non. Bas les pattes.”

(No. Paws off.)

Zoro makes a disgruntled noise and properly steps up next to him, leaning his back against the counter. From his peripheral vision, Sanji notes him standing there, head turned towards him, looking at him cooking. Just looking. Odd behaviour for a marimo.

Minutes pass before the swordsman’s voice interrupts the rhythmic sound of Sanji’s cooking, saving him from the panicked screaming in his mind: They’re speaking French. Zoro’s clumsy pronunciation is the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Why are they acting like this is normal. Why is he standing so close. And are they ever going to address what happened last night? All this stops at the sound of:

“Et toi, je peux te goûter?” (And you, can I taste you?)

Sanji’s breath hitches and he feels a warmth creep up his spine, to his neck, his ears, and all the way to the top of his head. He’s going to implode.

Where did he learn to say that. He hears himself squeak out that very question, eyes looking down at the bowl of batter, pointedly ignoring the other man’s heated gaze.

Zoro's deep voice rumbles in a low chuckle. “Ça ne répond pas à ma question. Ni à celle de hier soir.”

(That doesn’t answer my question. Nor last night’s question.)

Callused fingers suddenly grip his chin, and now he’s face to face with Zoro, who to Sanji’s surprise is sporting a dangerously tender expression, his hand moving up to cup his cheek. His voice is softer, this time.

“Dis moi.” (Tell me)

His chest aches. “Tell you what?”

Sanji doesn’t like the vulnerability voicing his feelings in French makes him feel. It’s so much easier to revert to his usual abrasiveness. Safer. “I already told you how you drive me up the wall. What, do you want me to embarrass myself further by telling you how badly I’ve wanted you?”

An expectant eye stares back at him. Patient. Silent.

The blonde huffs and raises his flour-dusted hand to the one Zoro is gently cupping his face with. “You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. Do you have any idea the self-control it takes to not just -“ he feels a tightness in his throat - he didn’t think it would be so hard to actually say it- “de ne pas te dire tous les jours combien je t’aime?”

(-to not tell you every day how much I love you?)

He blinks and Zoro’s lips are on his, soft and delicately pressing against his own like he could break at any moment. And boy does he feel like he could. He immediately starts pushing back, angling his head just so to deepen the kiss, melting from the sheer tenderness, his fingers still gripping Zoro’s hand where it lays, rough calluses against his soft skin.

They briefly part for air but Zoro immediately dives back in like a man starved, tugging the cook by his hips to stand between his legs, and the blonde has to bite back a moan at the manhandling. Sanji’s arms loop around his neck and find purchase in his ridiculous green hair.

Zoro will never get enough of kissing this man. It’s simply too intoxicating, and perfect, and everything he’s ever wanted. Which is why it’s with great reluctance that he retreats from this slice of heaven, if only to make sure his own intentions are clear. He can’t believe the bastard beat him to it. He’d walked in here with a plan to test the waters and flirt back- get a little revenge on the blonde from the way he made his brain short circuit the previous night. Maybe test out a few phrases he’d learned in those Harlequin books the pervy cook loves so much. What happened instead was so much better.

He’s glad to be propped up against the counter because his knees feel weak at the raw, exposed emotion on Sanji’s face when he tells him–

“Je t’aime.”

A radiant smile. A wet laugh through misty eyes.

“Imbécile.” (Idiot)

The man buries his face in his neck and presses him close in an intimate embrace, holding tight at the back of his shirt. Zoro’s chest swells with love and he holds him back just at tightly, rubbing soothing circles on his lower back.

“Ton imbécile.” (Your idiot.)

#zoro x sanji #zosan fic #zoro learns french story #zoro learns french #one piece zosan #zosan #hope you guys like emotions #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #with a dash of my favourite thing #nosebleed sanji

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chaotic-ish · 1 month

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synopsis : what's gojo without pranks?

warnings : nope ! Just fluff. And him calling you pookie (he totally would)

a/n : got bored af. And i thought this would be cute— i thought.

“HOLY—“

you wipe away the penetrable whipped cream that settled on your face, staring up at gojo in disbelief.

He had given your face a whole plate of whipped cream as you stumbled your way in the kitchen.

“HOW DARE YOU—“

Gojo laughs uncontrollably, with wheezes and snorts all the same while pointing his index finger towards you. “You should have seen the look on your face!”

“YOU BITCH. I DON’T THINK I CAN EVEN SEE.”

He continues laughing, the sounds of giggles dying down to a playful tone as he walks over to hug you from behind, leaning in from the side to take a peck of whipped cream from your face. “Oh, chill, y/nnn, it’s just a harmless prank!”

He licks his lips, humming in delight as the sweet taste graces his tongue.

You taste much better, he thinks.

“My make-up—” you whisper, carefully wiping away dabs off whipped cream over your face and proceeds to dip it in your mouth, letting the treat sink in your mouth.

how much whipped cream did he put in that plate?

“—IS RUINED.” you elbowed him hard in the stomach, but not enough to hurt him.

gojo winces, painting a fake sad look over his face, "heyy, be gentle with me, love, I'm delicate."

he sighs, clasping his hands together as he displays one of his best puppy eyes and convincing pout.

His eyes grasped the attention of the shimmering ceiling lights, clear azure irises widening it's lids.

He actually looked like a whole-ass puppy in the streets.

You grab a few pieces of tissue on the kitchen counter with a scoff, cleaning off the last bits of whipped cream on your face.

But you can't say otherwise that the face he gave you was incredibly cute. It just squeezes your heart to let it melt into a puddle of affectionate goo.

Those eyes make you weak.

But you're not losing to him so easily.

A sigh hesitantly leaves your lips, you cover half your face with an open hand.

"I hate that you do this to me..."

Gojo smiles a goofy smile, pulling your hand away from your face to pepper your cheeks with gentle kisses and ending it with a another one at the end of your nose, making a 'boop' sound as he does.

"That means you'll forgive me right?" He looks at you expectantly, tilting his head slightly sideways.

you lean forward and cup his face with both your hands and lean in as if to kiss him, gojo was already fooled as he flutters his eyes closed and sticks his lips out.

he looks so silly.

But you pulled away at the last second, his eyes lifting its lids when the awaited kiss he thought was coming didn't, leaving him dumbfounded as he eyes you narrowly, not understanding why you pulled away so suddenly.

Then, the pang of realisation hits him—

"Y/n! Why???? Are you mad at me for doing that prank at you????"

You say nothing, successfully ignoring him as you walk out, throwing the dirty pieces of tissue in the rubbish bin while you’re at it.

"HEY. DON'T IGNORE MEEEE," he whines, arms stretched out, hands clench, unclench as he chases after you.

he absolutely dislikes you ignoring him, even if it's just a small tease, which he was well aware of.

A set of arms grab you from behind, pulling you close until your back hits a wall of hard muscle, you feel a chin rest on your head.

"I’m sorry, please, forgive me my dear pookie, snookie, cookie, doopie, cutie pie."

You cringe, your hands on his forearms as you turn your head to face sideways, only a glimpse of gojo could be seen from your peripheral vision.

"In your dreams—“

the sudden feeling of fingers poking your sides caused your body to jerk in response, a small giggle curling the edge of your lips into a small smile. But you still couldn't shake gojo off you, his arms are around you tight to hold you in place.

you should be a bit stern maybe, maybe, you sho-

-poke. poke. poke. poke.

poke.

a few pokes, then birthed multiple tickles on your sides, gojo's fingers making it's work on the curves of your waist.

You held in your giggles, laughs and snickers in your stitched lips, bottling your stiffled laughs until you were about to burst like a balloon with too much helium.

Gojo urged his fingers to make it even more unbearable, your tickle spots being vulnerably attacked.

And you did. Burst. Into laughter.

So much laughter that it's starting to become contagious, like your endearingly soft smile...your profounded happiness, that melody of a voice you have-

Are more than enough to make this man smile ear-to-ear.

You could almost hear the pitter-patters of his heartbeats thrumming in his chest.

"Forgive me," he whispers to your ears, pulling your body down to the floor with him. "C'monnn, I promise I won't do it againnnn."

There was absolutely no way he would not do this again.

"Never—“

"Mhm?"

He sticks his tongue out, it emerges from the corner of his lip as he wraps a leg around your lower body, making sure you weren't able escape his antics.

"Y/n...sweetheart, I'm sorry, m'kay?" Even with the attempted apology, he still wouldn't stop his hands that were still latched to the shaft of your hips.

He can't help the softened expression that crept up on his face and spent it's holiday there.

"SATORU GOJO-" you gasp, "STOP- PLEASE."

"No way! Not until you forgive me." He says, leaning down to plant small wet kisses up the side of your neck, trailing red spots down to the slope where your neck meets your shoulder, and his hands never slacked off.

"Ah, okay! okay! I forgive you! I forgive you! Stop!"

Gojo smiles contently, watching how your breaths come out in huffs of invisible smoke.

"There, see? Not so hard now, is it?"

You turn yourself to face him, "Nah, it was very hard."

He holds his hands up in a show of attempt that he was gonna tickle you again, but you caught one of his hands, entertwining your fingers with his, both of you holding on tightly.

"Don't you even dare."

"Sheesh, I wasn't trying to, you're so grouchy." He grumbles, letting his face fall down to land a kiss on your temple and brings one of your hands to his cheek, clutching it tightly.

a few seconds pass by feels more like a few hours, he just stares at you, like nothing else exists anymore. Staring at you with his lovestrucked gaze, you couldn’t love him less.

“And, by the way, your make-up isn’t ruined,” he whispers, a thumb running over your cheek, “You look exactly the same without it, love, you’re just that pretty.”

you smile, your cheeks suddenly feel violently hot.

there it is, gojo thinks, there is that wonderful smile that has the power to brighten his day, make him forget the worries and stress he gained. You’ve stolen all the space he has in his world, because—

you are his world.

He takes a few breaths, appreciating the breath-taking view in front of him. He thanks the world, the universe, and god himself, for putting you two together.

He doesn't know what to do without you.

"I love you so much, y/n, I really do." He whispers, holding you impossibly closer to him.

“I know, I love you more, ‘toru.”

i feel like the ending is a bit too cliche— someone tell me why isn’t he real. why can’t he exist :(

taglist: @zennyxxy, @asters-r (sorry zen i got bored.)

#jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #fluff #jjk fluff #drabble #female reader

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princessdemo · 1 year

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tomorrow - trent alexander arnold

massive thanks to @cosmic-parker for coming up with the idea and helping me out! i luv you <333 first fic of 2023? wtf- most likely the only fic with how slow i am- hope you enjoy, lots of love, demoooo 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Where are you, baby? Trent types as he soundlessly, but with a slight scamper, strides down the corridor.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing it. And if his best man-the title which caused an abundance of disagreements amidst Andy Robertson, Tyler and Marcel Alexander-Arnold found out he was doing this- it would conclude with an mixture of profanity words. But he’s decided to listen to his heart this time, rather than his head. Taught by his mother- whom was the significant woman in his life, other than you, who is the one tightening his tie tomorrow, fixing his collars as he cries his nervousness for the special day.

Tomorrow was the wedding day of you both. The day you finally would express your love towards each other, not that you don’t every day, though this time in the form of a selection of Vows, drafted by you both. Tomorrow isn’t a day like any other. It’s the moment where your world stops, and for a second, you don’t forget how lucky you are. Trent’s mind had been like a rollercoaster, his emotions mixed all over the place. Even months before the wedding, the boy had been pacing around your house, making sure everything was organised. The final weeks before the day, he’d find himself making silly mistakes during training, or questioning his teammates about how their day to remember proceeded. The man was so in love with you, and that’s why he wants to make sure you know- for the last time as his fiancé.

Your phone buzzes on top of the bathroom counter next to the sink. Just as you’d finished brushing your teeth and wiping your mouth clean with a towel, the screen brightens and a notification pops up.

A giggle leaves your lips as you read the message, heart pounding at the words displayed. A text from Trent voicing ‘where are you?’ makes you shake your head. A deep breath leaving exhaling your nose.

‘In my room, just finished cleaning my teeth. You, okay?’ You type, before placing your phone into your hoodie pocket- selected from a certain scouser’s wardrobe. Claiming if you wasn’t going to be in each other’s presence for at least 24 hours- you’d need something of each other’s.

Not a minute later, your phone is vibrating, causing you to hastily have the gadget back in your hand, eyes glazing over the text.

‘I’m good- just couldn’t sleep. What are you doing now?’

You skim over the dialogue, eyes fixated onto the screen as your hand reaches to turn of the bathroom light. Stepping out of the room, you head towards your bed for the night, placing yourself on top of the sheets to type your response.

‘About to sleep T. My eyes are half dozing as I send this message.’ You note, before switching of your device and placing it aloft the bedside table, slipping into the warmth of the bed sheet. In the twinkling of an eye, the screen pops back on with a flash- lighting up the room. Beside you, laid Rachel Robertson, scrolling through her social media or likely questioning her parents how her children had been. Undoubtedly, herself and Andy were delighted to both be such meaningful positions on yours and Trent’s special day. The four of you spending many days off, switching between either houses, though they were down the road, catching up. The females chuckling at their foolish partners mannerisms. Partly, they were both ecstatic about the idea of having a small break from their children, the young Robertson’s could be a handful at times.

‘Come meet me? In the lobby?’ The message Trent sends presents, inducing a sigh to pass your lips. You tilt your head in the direction of Rachel, weighing up your options. Your head is demanding you to acquiesce with the wedding tradition of not seeing your partner 24 hours before the momentous day. However, something inside you is tempting you to see him.

Eyes peering back to the beaming screen, your fingers type, ‘Trent.’ Lip gnawing in anticipation.

Three dots appear within a flash, replying back to your response.

‘Please baby, I need my goodnight kiss.’ Trent declares, coaxing a smile to form upon your face, cheeks rising with heat.

And this is what persuades you to slide out the bed and slip your trainers on, briskly texting the scouser you’d meet him in 5 minutes. Tying your laces, Rachel grabs your attention-

“Where are you going?” She questions, pupils scanning over yourself- fitted with a pair of joggers, a hoodie of Trent and some trainers.

Beckoning your head within her direction- a puzzled emotion displayed from the Scot. Clearing your throat, you respond. “Just going to head down to the lobby for a minute, grab some water- my head wont shut off.”

She doesn’t interrogate your choices, though you grasped that she knew your response was untruthful, due to your fast pace tone of voice and an even more perplexed expression. She wasn’t going to argue with you over your special day, so attempting to modify your decision was out of her books.

“Okay, don’t be too late.” She smiles, before looking back at phone. That’s your signal to vacate the bedroom and find the scouser waltzing the corridors for you so desperately. “I wont be,” you shake your head, heading towards the door of your hotel room.

Fixed in the hallway of the residence for the night, your eyes scan the walls for a sign leading towards the lobby. To your right, you see an arrow facing the stairs leading to the ground floor, where you supposed your lover would be waiting for you.

Trudging down as you follow the commands stated in front of you, taking a left around the corner where the stairs were located, your body collides with another- a bulked, muscular physique as your head thuds into their chest, a groan leaving your side from the impact.

Your vision leaves the individuals warmth and your eyes glisten up to face the other in front of you.

“Sorry- Oh, T, Hi.” You smile, a slight shock to of seen him so soon.

Trent chuckles at your wonder and bewilderment, bringing his hand up to tickle the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Hi sweet.”

Sight observing a state of anxiousness, you bring your hand to stroke the apple of his cheek, the soft skin warming to your touch. “You alright?” You nod.

Trent sighs, eyes fixating towards the ground. “I’m nervous,” puckering his lips.

Your eyes scrunch in confusion, a tinge of sadness for the scouser makes you want to cuddle him until he cannot breathe. “For what? Talk to me?” you guide.

His eyes still beckon over the sight of your shoes, glued to surface of the carpet. A deep inhale is followed by an breathily exhale. “Everything. Tomorrow, becoming your husband- what if I'm not good enough, the-“ He notes as you cut him off.

“Trent,” You take his larger hand in yours, thumb fondling over the palm. “Come on, what’s making you think like this?” you question.

“I don’t know really. You are so special, and the only girl that’s made me the happiest man ever, I just don’t want to mess things up.” He replies softly. Making your heart thud immensely.

You lean in to peck his lips, a slight tinge of alcohol still present that you knew would be encouraged by his teammates, much to Hendo’s disagreement. As you pull away, your eyes meet his, “Let’s go for a walk outside hm, a bit of fresh air is probably needed.”

The pair of you make it outside, the cold temperature demanding you to snuggle close to each other, the attraction of warmth too pleasurable. You notice a bench in the distance, dragging the 5ft 9 male in the direction of the seating. You both take seat, the view presenting a small lake, lighten by a street lamp.

Your hands never lost contact, the touch becoming comforting to you both. Something one may have required more than the other.

“Talk to me.” You start, your body turning to face the man next to you, in less than 24 hours, you could finally call him your husband, something you had always dreamt of as a little girl.

Trent shrugs, “Just nervous, yknow? Like I don’t want to mess tomorrow up. Its our day, and I know you have been waiting for something so magical since forever.”

Your eyes widen at his words, lip jittering out in despair, “Hey, you aren’t going to ruin tomorrow okay. Its going to be the best day of our lives. Well, I hope it will live up to the champions league final. But I do know that it is going to be immense. You have nothing to worry about.” You nod.

This time Trent’s bringing your face as approach to his, lips meeting yours with an instance. “I love you.” To which you reply back, “I love you too.”

“If anything, I should be the one stressing. What if I fall over in my dress? My shoes, no idea how I'm going to walk in those?” You both share a laugh, Trent hand clutching yours tighter.

“Remember when you had too much to drink at Ox’s birthday party?” you shake your head at his words, eyes closing in embarrassment at your actions. “I even had to hold your shoes when we were leaving cause’ your feet were so sore.”

“That’s going to be me tomorrow.” Tucking your head into Trent’s lap, raising it after his next response.

Trent smiles, “We’ve had some eventful times together.”

Your eyes light up at his words, floods of memories coming back to you. “Remember our first date?”

Now it’s Trent’s turn to shake his head, “When we got mobbed by fans? Can’t say that’s what I had in mind.” He tucks you closer into his chest.

“Still ended the night well though, first kiss in Maccies carpark is unforgettable.” You chuckle.

“The boys still take the piss out of me every time I walk into the changing rooms, should’ve lied and said the night went so smooth- rather than letting them know we ended up stuffing our faces with burgers and fries.”

You gasp, “Can’t believe you went against your dietary requirements. Shocking that!”

Trent chuckles under his breath, “Listen!” His voice raises with the intention of proving his point. “It was me day off, give it a rest babe.”

You giggle at his words, hand leaving his to cover your mouth. “Alright, alright.”

“Now its me turn to tell one of my favourite memories about us.” Trent starts, “Remember when I took ya to see me mural? And ya said you preferred Hendo’s more?”

Covering your eyes in mock shame, “I cant lie, Hendo’s looking pretty good in that painting.”

Trent gasps at the verbalisation he’s heard, “You being serious? He’s a dad!”

The trees in the setting swayed in line with the wind. The breeziness making goose bumps raise upon your skin attributable to the sharp, nail biting cold. Both were snuggled against one another, Trent’s arm perched upon the lower part of your back.

You pull your phone out of your pocket, the pair of you scanning through your camera roll, snickering and yapping about old pictures.

“Aww, you recall this?” Nudging the phone into his hands, the bottom of your back adjusting to the loss of tepidity from the man beside you.

“Of course, I do. One of me favourite moments in my career.” He smirks. “I remember twitter went mad after it. Wanted to show me love and appreciation towards ya in the form of my cherished platform.” Trent responds.

One of the first games you made an appearance to support your partner in, ended with a mass of messages and a collection of butterflies whooshing within your stomach. Trent had decided his next goal occurred would see him performing with a love heart into the crowd. The direction was to yourself and ended with a smile never parting from your features.

“On another note. You are wearing a tie which matches the flowers tomorrow right? No red for Liverpool-“

Trent shakes his head at your mannerisms, rolling his eyes. “Robbo suggested it. Hendo’s sorted it out though. They are both buzzing for me to get married. Jordan keeps saying his son’s growing up.”

A blush creeps over your cheeks, and you couldn’t help the small laugh that followed. When it came to Hendo and Trent. Their friendship was inseparable, similar to him and Andy, though, The age on Henderson made himself perform a father-like figure towards Trent throughout his career. It settled your nerves knowing he had someone to offer love and ease when you weren’t around. Especially times when he was outside of Liverpool, away from you for handful of days, he could struggle. It calmed your nerves knowing he had that someone, and Jordan was more than happy to play that role.

You take a deep breath, “I can’t believe tomorrow is actually the day, finally calling myself an Alexander-Arnold.” A soft grin arising. “Wonder what your vows are going to be like..” You question, lips puckering in the sense of curiosity.

“Me vows? Going to be absolutely breath taking. Worked me arse off writing this essay.” He teases, pressing a peck to your lips.

Shoulders shaking at his response, nodding intensively. Sometimes he did come out with some berserk statements. But it made you love him more and more each day.

Trent grabs your hands into his own, shuffling so you are facing each other, now separated from your snuggled position. He stands up from the bench, fleetly rubbing his hands on his jeans to remove any creases, before placing them back into yours. He nods, “Listen, let me act out how tomorrow is going to go.” He starts, as you giggle. “So, we say our vows- blah blah blah, mine will be the most emotional, heartfelt-“

“Woah.” You stop him, disagreeing with his opinion of his own. “What?” you exclaim.

“Shh, baby. You are interrupting my performance.” Trent snarls, raising a finger to his lips as a visual instruction for you to listen. He starts again, “So we do the vows, astounding the crowd as I do.” You roll your eyes, as he contuines. “I’ll grab the ring, then place it on your finger like this-“ He takes your hand, holding your ring finger in his own, and pretends to slip a ring on. Your heart flutters at his gestures, hand raising to your heart in a state of awe.

“Then once you have done the same for me, and its time to kiss.” He pulls you up from the bench, a thrilling rush flowing through your system, heart pulsating out your chest. “I’ll lean in like this, hopefully me mum’s crying so much she doesn’t see much or ya dad isn't watching for my sake.” He guides your head to face his own, a finger tickling your lower chin. A smirk emerges, as you snake your arms round his neck. He reaches to move the unwanted baby hairs, flourished around your face, tucking them behind your ears.

Trent leans into your features, lips softly attaching your own, moving at a sweet pace, nothing too heavy. He pulled away gently, catching his breath, “Need too,” a second kiss, “Get in,” lips hoover over yours, “as many kisses as possible,” allowing a small amount of tongue to slide in, skimming the tip. “As after tonight,” He presses a kiss to your cheek, “The next will be as husband and wife.” Planting a final smooch to your forehead.

“Trent?” You breathe.

“Mhm.”

“Lets get married baby.”

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topguncortez · 8 months

Text

Silly Love Songs || Bradley Bradshaw x OC!Female

Dragon & Rooster Masterlist | Main Masterlist

synopsis: Bradley has a trick up his sleeve for this coming Valentine's Day. . . however, Dragon isn't all for the whole cliche Valentine's Day.

word count: 2.0k

warnings: none:) it's fuffy:)

The love was in the air, and everyone could feel it. Dragon wasn’t sure as to why they had to hang Valentine's decorations in the Hard Deck, but the sight of pink and red was starting to give her a headache. She wasn’t ever a big fan of Valentine’s Day. Her parents used to make little baskets for her and Phoenix and leave them outside their doors. She remembered seeing girls walking around with giant teddy bears and flower bouquets in high school and of course the tears from those whose boyfriends didn’t even pay attention to what day it was. Dragon had never been big on PDA so Valentine’s Day was just another day to her.

“So what are you and Jake doing for Valentine’s Day?” Phoenix asked Y/N.

“Oh boy, I haven’t even thought that far,” Y/N said, which everyone knew was a lie. She was probably the only one in the group who had planned out exactly what they were going to do, “Probably just dinner somewhere. I’ve been busy making Valentines for the kids to take to school. What about you all? Dragon, it’s your first Valentine’s Day with Rooster!”

Dragon rolled her eyes as Fanboy burst out laughing, spraying his beer across the table. If there was anyone who knew Dragon better than her very own sister, it would be Mickey Garcia. And he had been front and center to various boyfriends who had tried the whole Valentine’s Day Display on the younger Trace sister.

“If Dragon celebrates Valentine’s Day, I think hell just might freeze over,” Fanboy said. Dragon shot the WSO a glare and he held his hands up in defense.

“Oh don’t say that!” Y/N said and looked back at Dragon, “You guys need to celebrate! It’s your first one!”

“I don’t care about Valentine’s Day,” Dragon sighed, and watched as Y/N’s smile dropped from her face, “Why do I need to put on some large display of love and affection for him for one day? What does that prove to anyone but ‘Hey look at me I’m in “love”’. The whole thing is kinda silly if you ask me,” Dragon said and sipped her beer, “We will go to work, go home, probably have a beer over dinner, have sex, and go to bed like we always do.”

Phoenix sucked in a breath and looked at Bob, who was the only other person who knew of the Valentine’s Day plans that Rooster had in store.

Across the bar, Jake was looking at a picture of a ring on Rooster’s phone. It was a silver band that had a pretty good-sized diamond on it. Jake thought it wasn’t nearly as good as the one that Y/N had on her finger, but it was still nice. He handed Rooster back the phone and took a drink of his beer.

“What do you think?” Rooster asked.

“I think it’s pretty nice,” Jake nodded, “I think she’ll like it.”

“It’s not too flashy for Dragon? I mean, she doesn’t wear any jewelry except for the silver necklace. I don’t want her to hate it ‘cause it’s too much,” Rooster said and played with the condensation on his beer bottle.

“I think it’s just right for her. Is it your mom’s ring?”

“The diamond is, yeah,” Rooster nodded, “Apparently it’s called ‘emerald cut’, and I guess it wasn’t very common back in the ‘80s, but it’s all the buzz now. Who knew Goose Bradshaw knew a thing or two about engagement rings?”

Jake chuckled, “To Goose Bradshaw, the all-knowing, lady-killing romantic.”

“A good man,” Bradley tapped his beer against Jake’s, and then took a sip, “I just hope she says yes. We’ve only talked about this once, and she seemed to be into the idea of us getting married.”

“Rooster,” Jake said, patting his back, “You are thinking way too much into this. That girl loves you.” Jake turned on his barstool just in time to see the sight of his wife walking up to him with a slight pout on her face, “What’s up, sweets?”

Y/N gave Jake a small smile and shook her head, “Nothing, needed to get away from the anti-Valentine’s Day talk.”

Rooster’s eyebrows furrowed, “Who’s anti-Valentine’s Day.”

“Dragon.”

Jake looked up at Rooster and swore he could see the moment when Rooster’s heart stopped beating. Rooster felt his hands get clammy and his throat tighten up.

“She doesn’t like Valentine’s Day?” Rooster asked, clearing his throat when his voice cracked.

Y/N sighed, “Not really. She said it’s cliche and she doesn’t think she needs one day to showcase her love for her partner. She was talking about how dumb Valentine’s Day proposals and weddings are. I love her Rooster, but sometimes she puts a damper on my mood. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, Y/N,” Rooster said. Jake could tell the smile on his face was fake. He took a swig of his beer before setting it down on the counter, “I’m gonna go get her, and probably head out. Bye, guys.”

Both of them said goodbye to Rooster and watched him walk over toward Dragon, his shoulders sagging a bit. Jake shook his head and looked at his wife.

“Is she really anti-Valentines Day?” Jake asked.

“Sounded like it to me,” Y/N shrugged, “Even said Cupid is just a grown man in adult diapers.”

“Shit,” Jake rubbed his forehead, “He was thinking of proposing to her on Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh my god! Did I just ruin it!? I have to go-” Jake grabbed her hand before she could run over and apologize to Rooster, probably spoiling the surprise.

“Don't apologize. I’m sure he will find another way to ask her to be his wife. You didn’t ruin anything.”

“But-”

“But nothing,” Jake said and took her into his arms, “Enough about them. How are we going to celebrate Valentine’s Day?” He smirked at his wife and moved his eyebrows up and down causing her to giggle and kiss his cheek.

— — — ♡ ♡ ♡ — — —

The ride home from the Hard Deck was a bit tense. Bradley hadn’t said a word to Dragon since he asked her if they could leave. Usually, Bradley was singing along loudly off-key to the radio or talking about something to do with whatever sports team was in season. Dragon noticed that he was holding the steering wheel with both hands instead of his usual one on the wheel and the other resting on her thigh. She sized him up, taking in the slight sag of his shoulders, and that his usual smile was gone.

“There something wrong?” Dragon asked as they stopped at a red light. Bradley shook his head, “Okay. . .” Dragon said and leaned back in her seat. She looked out the window as the light turned green and Bradley continued his drive back to their apartment.

The silence was growing increasingly annoying as not even the radio was playing. Dragon huffed as she leaned forward and turned the radio on. She messed with the dial until a station came on and settled back in her seat. She looked out the window as the opening chords to an all too familiar song came flooding through the speakers. A smile rose on her face as she looked over at Bradley, seeing him fight back a smile.

“Don’t smile, Bradshaw,” Dragon pointed at him, as she started to dance in her seat, “Don’t you dare smile! Don’t smile!” She said and leaned over to tickle him. He bit his lip harder as he pushed her hands away, her laughter filling the bronco.

“Don’t go breaking my heart,” Dragon sang. Bradley sucked his teeth as he looked over at her. She gave him a look and he shook his head, “Honey If I get restless?”

Bradley tried to keep up his silent treatment. . . but he was a weak man when it came to anything concerning Dragon Trace.

“Baby, you’re not the kind,” Rooster sang back and Dragon cheered in victory. He chuckled as she sang along to the chorus and he pulled into the parking lot of a random supermarket. He put the bronco in park and quickly jumped out going to her side. She looked at him confused as he opened her door and pulled her out of the truck making her squeal.

“What are you-”

He cut her off by reaching in and turning the music up louder, “Dancing with you.”

“Right-”

“Don’t go breaking my heart, baby,” Rooster fake pouted, and started dancing around her. Dragon couldn’t hide her laughter at his adorably dorky dance moves. For a man who could play the piano and guitar, he could hardly dance. Dragon closed her eyes and moved her body to the beat.

The two of them danced to Elton John in the parking lot, totally in their own world. When the song faded out, and another one came on, neither one seemed to miss a beat. Neither one knew how long they had been having a dance party in the parking lot, until Silly Love Songs by Paul McCartney started playing and Rooster pulled her into his arms, leaning her head on his chest as he twirled them slowly in a circle in the orangey light from the parking lot lights.

“My dad said this was the song that was playing when he asked my mom to marry him,” Rooster said and Dragon lifted her head up to look at him, his honey-brown eyes boring into her. “Why don’t you like Valentine’s Day?” He asked her and Dragon drew in a breath.

“Y/N said something, didn’t she,” Dragon asked and Rooster nodded, “It’s not that I hate it, I just don’t understand why there has to be only one day a year where you get flowers and gifts and chocolates from your partner. My dad said that if someone truly loves you, they won’t wait for Valentine’s Day to show you it.”

“He’s right,” Rooster said, a moment of realization washing over him. He didn’t even need to think twice as he grabbed Dragon’s hands and dropped to one knee, right in the middle of the abandoned Walmart parking lot.

“What are you-”

“Your dad is right, Grace, I don’t need to wait for Valentine’s Day to show you that I love you,” Rooster said and Dragon felt her heart start to rise. She felt heat behind her eyes as they became cloudy with tears, “The ring isn’t done yet. I used my mom’s diamond on a silver band cause you told Val once that you liked her ring. But I don’t need that to do this, Dragon, I love you, more than I have ever loved anything in my life.”

“More than flying?”

Rooster paused and tilted his head, “. . . Honey, I’m trying to be romantic here. . . don’t ruin the moment,” Bradley said and Dragon chuckled, “Please, make me the happiest man for the rest of my life. I know we’ve only been together a year and-”

Dragon dropped down to her knees, still holding Bradley’s hands, “Will you marry me, Bradley Bradshaw?”

“I was supposed to ask you that,” Bradley said.

“You were taking too long,” Dragon shook her head, “So. . .”

“Of course, I’ll marry you. Will you marry me?”

“Oh fuck yes,” Dragon said and smashed her lips to Bradley’s.

'Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs. What's wrong with that?'

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try-set-me-on-fire · 1 year

Note

‘you could say I’m fond of you.’ for the soft prompt 👀👀👀

@leothil also asked for this one! Send me soft fic prompts! Here’s the rest of the fills on ao3!

"You could say I'm fond of you," Buck says, head tilted almost sideways, the sort of twinkle in his eyes that Eddie always worried might prove fatal one day for the way it makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

"You could say that, huh?" He crosses his arms, mouth curving upward unbidden. He’s pretty sure Buck is actually saying “hehehe” as he leans forward, giggling, to kiss Eddie’s cheek. Eddie snorts and dodges the attempt, which just causes Buck to follow, until they’re chasing each other in dizzy little circles between the sink and the table. Buck catches him with an arm thrown around his waist, and plants a big wet kiss sort of on his cheek but mostly hitting nose and eye. Eddie laughs in a way that still surprises him, sometimes - a helplessly open thing, so much joy in his body that he has no reason or care to hide.

“Ahem.”

Well, maybe some reason. Maddie stands in the entryway to the kitchen with the squiggly kind of smile someone trying not to. Buck and Eddie are gently frozen around each other, no survival instinct to spring away and avoid capture.

Maddie holds out a hand. “Chim says you owe the PDA jar.”

Eddie makes an indignant sound as Buck throws back his head with a shout of laughter and then, terrible coward, flees the room.

“Nobody was in here! We’re not even at work! This is my house!” Eddie protests even as he digs to find his wallet.

Maddie puts a finger up, reciting “If more than four members of the 118 including the two of you are present at a gathering it counts as a work functio-“

Eddie slaps cash in her hand. “I don’t like your husband very much.”

She grins at him, and then raises an eyebrow. “Two dollars? That seems kind of steep.”

“Inflation’s been brutal.”

She laughs, pocketing her ill gotten bounty. Eddie expects her to return to the party but she stalls there, a curious look in her eyes. Eddie feels suddenly nervous. He counts Maddie as a friend, and he’s pretty certain they’re going to be in laws one of these days, but they haven’t spoken one on one very often and her expression reminds him of the one his own sisters would get when they were about to make his life a little more difficult. He’s started self consciously pretending to rearrange finger sandwiches when she speaks.

“It’s nice to see you being goofy.” When he huffs out a startled laugh she grins and tilts her head, so like her brother. “Evan- Buck is always goofy, no surprise there. But you’re… Funny, certainly, you’re sarcastic, but it’s nice seeing you be silly, Eddie.” She’s so sincere it makes Eddie duck his head, just a little. “You seem really happy. And you make Buck so happy.”

Eddie exhales more than laughs, a quick little sound of awed half-belief. It’s true, he knows it is. It hollows him out completely some days, looking at Buck and seeing such easy elation on his face, and knowing he has some part in putting it there fills up his empty form with light, or champagne, or some other metaphor for love given shape. “I’m glad to,” he says softly. “That’s all I- I want to make him happy, for the rest of our lives. I’m… honestly, the happiest I’ve ever been, and it’s because I get to share it with him.”

Maddie’s smile gets all squished and watery. “I can see why they charge you so much for public displays of affection, you romantic.”

Eddie laughs outright, shaking his head. “It’s the coffee fund anyway, I’d still just be spending it on his ridiculous lattes. This is only an extra step.”

Maddie puts her hand on her hip, gleeful and incredulous. “Okay, even that was stupidly sweet. Do I have to charge you again?”

“Have mercy,” he says, putting his hands up. “I have no more cash.”

“You wanna go mug my brother for it?”

Eddie laughs, and picks up the sandwich tray to bring outside. “Come on, let's go sick Chris on him.”

Later, when Buck sprawls to the ground like a sack of bricks under the gentle force of Chris’s tackle, Eddie tells him to give over extra money to the jar.

“Why?” He grins, sweaty from the chase and smelling like fresh grass.

“Preemptive payment.” Eddie bends down and kisses him thoroughly, ignoring the wolf whistles and groans from the audience. He pulls back just slightly, holding his happiness with two hands, and kisses sort of Buck’s cheek, but mostly his nose and eye. “You could say I’m pretty fond of you, too.”

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #maddie buckley #my writing

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gourmetjello · 3 months

Text

könig x reader : microwave

hey loves, hopefully könig isn’t getting too boring !! i’m quite obviously a könig blog for now but i would love to write about others too maybe a bit later, i was thinking about keegan, ghost, krueger or maybe even horangi? any opinions on these guys? (｡- .•)

you know the drill already -> 2nd person pov (it’s working pretty well!) and english isn’t my first language so bear with me. this will be a more lighthearted and shorter fic! i’ve been promising a fluff for a few days now but gosh, i feel like i would mess it up and könig would be to ooc. that’s just my personal fear though bahaha

also in this oneshot könig is wearing his mask / sniper hood for the first time ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) hope you’ll enjoy! (bunch of dialogue in this one ahaha)

—

the kortac base was always eerily quiet and dark around nighttime and it even creeped some people out. you weren’t really one of them, but you couldn’t deny that the thought of being surrounded by so many guns and other kinds of weapons didn’t exactly make you feel safe and sound at night. not like you spent so much time in the main building after midnight, but still.

one night though, you happened to be in one of the rooms because the microwave in the dormitory stopped working. it’s a stupid little thing, but it did indeed cause a mass panic among the people in the crew! everyone was rushing to grab their already prepared meals from the fridges, trying to get to the microwave first. they got to warm up their food and was all that mattered — however, you totally forgot about this silly tech chaos.

you stood in front of the already yellowed microwave in the shared dormitory kitchen, pressing every button you could possibly lay your finger on. it made a little beeping noise after your aggressive presses, but after displaying ‘error’ instead of the time, you gave up. it just wouldn’t start spinning and it wouldn’t light up either. what a stupid piece of technology!

loud sighs could be heard in the empty room ws your finger gently knocked against the already cracked and slightly dirty plastic shell of the microwave. you didn’t even dare to open the door of it and look in there with maybe a light or something — you were totally scared that you would find some kind of nasty black mold growing in there. which was probably the case. and it made you feel so uneasy! but oh well, soliders are so cheap — you thought and carried on.

you were fine with eating cold food, as long as it had some nutritional value, but when a bunch of people in camouflage outfits passed you with steaming warm meals on their trays, you just had to stop in your tracks.

“hey, where did you heat that-“

but everyone was too busy with eating their soggy yet warm food. they were all eating like they have been starving for at least three weeks! and the way they knocked you out of the way to get to the fridge made you freeze up for a second — gosh, these men (and women too, surprisingly) can drink a can of no name beer like it’s the finest liquid to ever flow on planet earth!

you quickly had to realize that you were on your own in this situation. or well, maybe not a hundred percent on your own because there was that small plate of clumped together mashed potatoes and a can of ice cold soup on your plastic tray. your fingers slightly trembled as you were about to pick it all up and sit down next to someone, pretending that they were piping hot like theirs — but you accidentally caught someone blabbering about how it was such a smart touch to put a microwave in the main building too.

that small little sentence you happened to hear was almost like a god-sent miracle, it made you immediately grab everything that was in front of you and you practically rushed to the lobby of the kortac base. it was pretty dark in there and you weren’t too familiar with where the light switches were there, but it didn’t bother you that much because all you could possibly care about in that moment was getting your food all nice and wamed up.

and guess what — the microwave was working. what a blessing!

you watched as the device light up with an orange-ish tint and you could see your canned soap going round and round on the little glass plate inside. the microwave lit up the entire room with a pretty yellow color, making you forget how quiet and dark it actually was in there.

the sweet little chime that played as it finished spun in your head on repeat like it was the best sound ever, signaling that you could finally eat after a long and tiring day. as soon as you took out the soup, you immediately paced the mashed potatoes in there as well, wanting to heat them up as quick as possible. it was satisfying to see the timer go down, and when you thought about getting something to drink, maybe a glass of water, you turned around-

only to see the barrel of a gun pointing at you.

you could barely make out the shape in front of your eyes in the dimly lit room, but once you realized what shape it was your heart immediately started beating in your throat. as a trained solider, you knew better than to make a sound in a situation like this, but come on. was someone pulling a horrible prank on you?

“who’s.. who’s this?” you asked with a weak voice, what a mistake. you knew you were never ever supposed to form a question when something dangerous was going on, but you had to know.

“i’ll tell you while i pour that boiling can of soup on you, how does that fucking sound?” the voice was familiar, but you couldn’t exactly put your finger on who it could belong to.

“e-excuse me?”

as the microwave finished heating your mashed potatoes up, it made three short beeps and the light stayed on, blinking every once in a while. the sounds it made broke the silence between you and this mysterious person that really wanted to commit some kind of crime on base, for whatever reason.

or maybe you were taking this too lightly? what if it was actually someone that broke into the base and is actually not kidding while saying all of these things? you knew quite a few people that could kill people without even thinking twice, the military was simply a place like that, but gosh, why would anyone say this to their own co-worker? it had to be someone who’s actually a threat. right?

as the yellow light blinked every few seconds, you just had to look up in case you knew who this person could be. and as soon as you saw how low the mysterious man had to hold compared to his own body and weight, you could immediately make a guess.

“könig?”

“huh?”

“what the fuck are you doing? put the gun down!”

it looked like something clicked in his brain too as he heard your voice again and he lowered the gun to his side, or at least that was what you were able to see. he then lightly leaned down but what you saw next absolutely creeped you out — he had some kind of cloth on his face! did this man totally go insane?

“i demand an.. explanation?”

“hm?”

“..like, i need you to tell me what this whole thing was about!”

“i mistook ya’ for an intruder.” he shrugged.

you stayed silent for a few seconds.

“you really thought that someone would break in all sneakily and.. warm up some food? are you being serious right now?”

“you can never know.”

“and what’s this rag on your head?

“rag?”

“yeah.”

“it’s um. equipment. sniper.”

“you’re not even a sniper.”

“shut up. i can be a sniper.”

“is that a t-shirt?”

“no.”

you could barely see what was on his head but judging from the way it just hung down, you were almost 99% sure in it being just an old t-shirt. the idea felt so silly, yet you had to admit that someone in a mask like that standing in this dark room would really make someone shit their pants.

“it is. you could have gotten a.. um, like, fake leaves. like others do. or that net on your head or something. you know, anything that looks a little more.. professional?”

“yeah, ya’ don’t like it?”

“i did not say that, just..”

“want a bullet in yer’ fucking stupid brain?”

“no.”

“i thought.”

“you thought?”

“i thought.”

“you thought so?”

“ja. thought so.”

“your english still sucks.”

“don’t need it.”

you took a deep sigh and you took a moment to think about how pathetic this scene could look to someone viewing this whole thing from the doorway or outside or anything like that. it was almost like you were watining for a cameraman to walk out from behind one of the chairs in the room and tell you how this will be a great scene for their next draining comedy series.

“you do need it.”

“nein.”

“what a great sense of humor you got there.”

“another joke.. and i, eh, really shoot you. understood?”

“oh gosh. okay.”

—

really short !! so sorry, this was all i could do today. thank you for the kind words, the many likes and the 20 followers. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

good night!

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ax-cx · 3 months

Text

INTOXICATING

Luke Castellan x Fem!OC

slight Pervy!Luke and Toxic!Luke

Warnings: swearing, heavy make out, mentions of slight stalking, super obsessed Luke, mention of drugs, flirting

Just pure fluffy love really

“You can’t keep dancing with the devil and ask why you’re still in hell.”

Intoxicating

adjective

- (of alcoholic drink or a drug) liable to cause someone to lose control of their faculties or behaviour.

- exhilarating or exciting.

- "an intoxicating sense of freedom"

Laila was intoxicating. Just looking at her made my mind run miles. Her beautiful brown hair, falling down over her shoulders. Her beautiful green eyes, glinting when she looks up at me. Her beautiful smile, contagious and bubbly.

Fuck man, I’m so done for. The way she says my name, gods help me.

“Luke.” soft, sweet and silky. Just imagine how it’d sound beneath- no shut up Luke. She’s perfect. Don’t ruin her.

“Yes sweetheart?” oh gods, stop looking at me like that dollface. Can’t you see me melting here?

“I need your help.” her cheeks reddened. Like strawberries and summer sun.

I can’t be this crazy for a girl, right? I’m just Luke. I’m the best swordsman at camp, son of Hermes, and a silly little Demeter girl can’t make me feel this way. Even though she picks flowers everywhere she goes, and the roses greet her like an old friend; even though the shrubs and plants seem to bloom brighter when she walks past, nature pouring from every pore of her pure soul.

“Of course Laila, what do you need?” my voice was shaky, of course it was. She was so fucking stunning my heart hurt. She gave me a headache and a high I couldn’t chase anywhere else. So I was her little servant instead.

She wanted help? Always. Can’t choose an outfit? Sweetheart you look perfect in blue. Someone giving her a hard time? I’ll fucking kill them. She wants food? I’ll get her anything. That bracelet’s cute? Bought it already.

I followed her like a wolf trailing behind a little lamb. All I wanted was her aura, her devilishly inducing soul. I’d do anything she asked. I’d burn the goddamn world to the ground. Just to make her happy. Anything to see her smile.

Chris told me I was obsessed. Maybe I am. Just a little. Just a lot. She takes up my every waking thought, tying up my mind in flowers and thorns, sweet smiles and sugary sounds. The way she walked. The way she talked.

I found myself hidden outside her window, looking in on her dressing once. Like a child outside a candy shop, my face was pressed to glass so hard I nearly fell through. The curves of her body, the scars on her knees, the freckles across her shoulders and clavicle. She rivalled Aphrodite, the fucking beauty she is.

“I need a new bikini and I don’t know which one to get.” fuck. How am I meant to hold myself back now? Surely she’s trying to kill me.

“Laila you look great in anything. But-“

“Blue’s your favourite colour, I know Luke, I know.” Laila I’m begging you, don’t put a blue bikini on, I might fuck up this perfect relationship. “So I picked out two blue ones but I don’t know which ones better.”

Oh god. I could feel my blood going south already. I watched as she slipped into the changing room, drawing the curtain, metal scraping metal. I listened as she shuffled, watched her clothes hit the floor and the shadows of her curves pulling the material on. I hated how long I waited, I was dying to see her.

I was dying to see my girl.

Metal scraping metal, and a soft whisper. “Luke?” my eyes met perfection.

Shamelessly letting my eyes wander, the blue fabric was tastefully perfect on her sun-bronzed skin. I’d forever be grateful for Apollo for how he made her shine. Her hips, her breasts, smattered with freckles and battle scars, marred in its most perfect form. Glowing and radiant. A princess in its finest definition. My beautiful drug. Little shells and gold trinkets were looped into the mesh, woven into the blue and trailing down her ribs and thighs.

Her hair was tucked behind her ears, her face on full display. Strawberries and summer sun dancing across her cheeks. Playful freckles smeared on her skin, full lips pulled into a meek grin. I stood up, and took her chin by the finger, lifting her embarrassed eyes to meet mine. I saw her curl in on herself.

“Laila you don’t need to be ashamed. You look great.” great. A disgusting understatement for how ethereal she looked. Aphrodite worked her magic and worked hard on her. The word felt filthy on my tongue. A princess like her needed to be praised and showered in the filthiest compliments, degraded by affection and ruined by attention. She glowed, and the world stopped.

I couldn’t hear a thing but my heartbeat. Racing, trying to tear from my chest and embrace hers. Her eyes gleamed, and I felt my resolve crumble. My confidence, my senses, my mind and soul falling to bare parts of who I am.

A man so effortlessly infatuated with a woman.

Losing all my thoughts, all my being, I melted into her. I gave up, finally leaning into my instincts and pressing my lips to hers.

They say your first kiss with a person you love is like fireworks. Your lips ignite and everything feels right.

It’s a lie. It’s like a fucking war. Winning and losing, fighting and failing. Kissing the girl I’m completely besotted with. Fuck. Her lips were heaven on earth, soft and plump, the perfect fit to mine. Gods this girl was meant for me. I truly must’ve been blessed, for finding a girl that just fits effortlessly, lips the missing piece to my fucked up puzzle, is a one in a billion girl.

I reluctantly pulled my lips from hers, immediately missing the warmth that bloomed in my chest, the warmth of her lips.

“Laila I’m so sorry.” she blinked, once, twice, still processing what is just done. I’d fucked it, I’d royally fucked it. “I couldn’t, I just couldn’t help my-“

My breath cut short, her fingers pulled on my belt loops, pulling me in, roping me further into her spell. She kissed me. Crashing our lips together, all teeth and tongue, all love and war. My perfect girl perfectly kissing me. My eyes were shut so tight, sight a pathetic sense when compared to her taste, her smell, her feel. Like the world was put right.

My hands swallowed her hips, kneading the supple bronze flesh. She was gold personified. Glowing, valuable and just stunning. Her skin was putty in my hands, the perfect golden feeling against my calloused hands. Soft and untouched. All mine to ruin.

I almost felt bad. Touching something so celestial, with my broken and damaged hands. With my plans and my anger. With my disgust and falsified details. With my wrath and rage. With my betrayal and my suffering. But I didn’t care. My care was out the window as soon as she kissed me. I finally got to be selfish for once. Thinking only of myself for once.

She was pure sugar. Addicting, intoxicating. Like my own personal cocaine.

Her hands were woven into my curls, like the soft curves of a tapestry twisting a timeless tale. This is a moment to remember for as long as I live, something I don’t ever want to forget.

She pulled her lips from mine, and my lips ached for the contact again. “So this one?” she grinned, her beautiful beautiful smile on her beautiful beautiful lips.

“I’ll get you both princess.”

My beautiful drug.

#fanfic #fanfiction #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy series #pjo #pjo fandom #toxic love #toxic relationship #obsessive love #actually obsessive #love #lovers

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abbyromanoff · 5 months

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Hi :3, i hope this isnt going to be weird but I would love to request Claire Debella falling for a women who is working in store? 👀 Cause i have a brainrot of Claire falling for a common girl and she inviting reader to a date and then reader knowing Claire is a governor and panicking but Claire being extra sweet. Fluff with smut XD

Thanks and have a nice day :3💛

HOAX

PAIRINGS: Claire Debella x reader

WORD COUNT: 971

WARNINGS: fluff, boss x assistant typa fic, honestly just sweet ass fluff that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Close your eyes- hey, I said close ‘em!” Claire spoke, chuckling at the giggle that left you. You were trying to keep your feet steady in fear of tripping and embarrassing yourself in front of her.

“Well, you need to help me if you want me to trust you!” She brought you close to her side, hugging you into her chest as she finally removed the hand covering your eyes. They instantly widened, your mouth falling open in a gasp as you looked back at her.

“Did you…buy this?” She shook her head, and that’s when you spotted the man waving to the two of you as he stood on the boat, and you almost jumped as the limo driver closed the door behind you.

“No, silly, we’re going on a trip! We used to go every year, but that slowed down after the virus - this is the first year back and I wanted to bring you.” You smiled nearly ear to ear at her shy voice, you could tell she feared you wouldn’t enjoy this gift, but seeing your expression made her worries fade away.

“And work?”

“I took the week off, my secretaries can handle it. And for you, well, you work under my hours,” The way you two met was through her job, only that also became your job as you were her assistant, which soon changed the closer you got. She was infatuated with you from the start, and your clean record only helped assure you were the one for her company. You, at the time, were managing a small business on the side and she happened to stop by for an order of flowers for her sick mother, and when you gave her a large discount with a sweet note wishing her the best she instantly had to come back. That was when she offered you the part-time job as her assistant, and you hesitantly agreed, knowing you needed the money and the shop was not cutting it.

Only months later you were lying next to her in bed, breath blown away as you recalled the activities you just took part in with your own boss. You felt guilty, and you were afraid she would blackmail you into continuing or act as though it never happened. After all, she was married when you first met her, only you failed to know she had been planning a divorce for years to come. You were just the assurance she needed, and she quickly filed for a divorce that ended messily, and that was when she made it official between you two.

She helped boost your business and teach you the lessons of promotions, and soon enough you didn’t have to rely on her pay. Although, you enjoyed working with the woman and kept your title as her personal assistant. You spent fewer hours at the shop and hired others to help, but you didn’t let your part-time job step in the way of your dreams, and she didn’t want that either.

“And the shop is well-handled, your employees know what they’re doing.” You sighed, agreeing shortly after as others began arriving.

“Who’s this?” A friend asked her, and she turned with a grin, placing her arm around your shoulder as she left a small peck to your head.

“This is my partner, Y/N. Y/N, meet Duke, one of the people going with us today.” He placed his hand on display, and you took it with yours quickly.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Duke.”

“Yeah, I just said that, muscle boy,” Claire remarked, and the two fell into a small conversation to catch up with their lives. You had to hide the chuckle that almost took over as Claire went into details about her campaign as Duke seemed to not understand what the word even meant.

“Why don’t you head to the boat, yeah? There’s a bar as soon as you enter, you wanna be a doll and get me a martini?” She left a kiss on your glossed lips and let you go with a quick slap to the ass, but was discreet enough to not embarrass you like usual.

“You got the ring?” Claire asked, and Duke handed her the case to which she glared at him.

“I told you to be secretive about it, they could’ve easily saw.” He shrugged and shook her off, looking back for his girlfriend who seemed to be chatting up the bodyguard near the front.

“Just be happy the ring is still in there.” She rolled her eyes with a huff, tugging her body forward to greet the other guests before stepping foot onto the yacht, grasping the drink you had ordered for her with a grateful expression of thanks.

“Everything okay?” You asked when seeing her nervous state. She nodded, and before you could speak you were greeted by the official owner of the boat. He smiled warmly and took your hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a peck. You didn’t like the action, but you assumed it was a regular for people like him. And, he was your girlfriend's friend and the one allowing you to be here, you couldn’t do much.

“Welcome, love. It is great to see you, I’ve heard lots about you.” The greetings continued until it was time to head to the island, to which you and Claire shared a couch seat as you sat close to on top of her.

“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” You stated, and the thumb that was rubbing your thigh soothingly slowed to a halt.

“What question?”

“Oh, c’mon, you know. Don’t act dumb.” She took a moment before shaking her head, yes. You didn’t completely believe it, and she could tell.

“I’m wonderful, darling. As long as I have you, I’m okay.”

#claire debella imagine #claire debella #claire debella x reader #Claire Debella fluff #agatha harkness x female reader smut #agatha harkness x reader fluff #agatha harkness x reader angst #agatha harkness x reader smut #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness fluff #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader

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shanastoryteller · 2 years

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(for @somebitofeverything who’s ask I accidentally deleted)

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

As far as Sizhui knows, his father has never been interested in anyone which is why it’s so strange that he’s going off to Lanling to get married.

He’s gotten plenty of warnings from everyone about how terrible his father’s bride is going to be. She’s a Jin, so likely hopelessly spoiled and arrogant, and she was chosen for this alliance last minute so she’s going to be resentful and mean but Sizhui shouldn’t let her push him around and mistreat him.

Jingyi had been very emphatic about that last one, but Sizhui doesn’t know if he can bring himself to disrespect his father’s wife even if she is awful.

They’re all assembled out front, the golden palanquin the Jin had sent to bring the newlywed’s back home carried up the many steps to Cloud Recesses by a procession headed by his uncle.

It stops in front of all the gathered clansmen, there to greet the new Madame Lan. His father steps out first, hesitates a moment, then offers his hand to help his wife out of the palanquin.

Jin Xuanyu bypasses it entirely, jumping out of a carriage like a child. She raises her arms above her head and stretches. “Flying would have been faster,” she complains, “and less work for the disciples.”

She’s pretty. She has on a cream robe with golden embroidery that’s reminds him of his father’s cloths, only warmer. Her hair is help up with a single golden hairstick, which a lot less than Jin women usually wear.

“It is tradition,” his father responds, but Sizhui can tell he agrees with her. He locks eyes with him and smiles, gesturing him forward with a shift of his head. Sizhui nervously steps forward and goes into a deep bow. He’d really been hoping that his father would introduce Grand Uncle first. “Xuanyu, this is my son.”

Sizhui swallows, trying to hold himself perfectly still, hoping his neat robes and hair and everything he’d anxiously done while getting ready this morning makes him look like a step son she could grow to tolerate.

“Sizhui!” she says, grabbing onto his elbows and pulling him upright. He blinks, taken aback, but her eyes are crinkled in the corner with her grin. “Your father has told me nothing about you, but your uncle has! Look at what a handsome boy you are!”

She reaches out resettle his robes on his shoulders, a maternal gesture that immediately makes his throat close up.

“Oh, I should have brought you something, but everything happened so quickly - next time I’m in the city I’ll get you a proper gift, okay? You’ll have to tell me what you like.” He wants to reassure her that he doesn’t need a gift, but before he can she reaches up and pulls the golden hairstick from her hair, causing it to tumble inelegantly down her shoulders. “Here, the rule against ostentatious displays is silly anyway.” Grand Uncle makes some sort of choking noise, but he can’t focus on that as Jin Xuanyu slides the hair stick into his own hair, just behind his silver hair ornament so it peaks over the top.

He loves her.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #somebitofeverything #untamed

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cosmons · 9 months

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Moth To A Flame — 03. Don’t jinx it (half-written)

You would’ve made a new friend had it not been the anxiety building up in your body causing the words of a compliment coming to a halt. ‘An idiot’ you thought, ‘I look like an idiot.’

This morning had gone by with you dreading, as you watch all your friends scatter around the school building. Minji had kissed you goodbye after dropping you off in front of your classroom, “it’s not like we all have different classes y/n your gonna see Hanni next period” she reassures, patting you back, “plus this is your opportunity to make new friends and tell them about how your girlfriend is running for student council.”

“Is that all you care about?”

“Of course not! I’m only joking silly” she laughs, “but seriously you’ll be fine. A little compliment aimed at the person next to you should do the trick at making a friend.”

“I guess I’ll just try that” you trail off, looking at the hallways emptying as students quickly slip into their classrooms, “alright I’ll see you later min go to class before you get your ass beat on the first day.” You peck her lips before ushering her toward the stairwell where her class was a floor above you.

The only person nearest to you was Danielle, who was a few classrooms down from you.

But being near wasn’t enough, you wished she was next to you so you could easily avoid a conversation with an unfamiliar face that would be too awkward for you to handle, since first conversations are always held with loads of overwhelming tension.

You were already facing the said girl next to you, who, by the way, hasn’t noticed your presence. With a mouth slowly a gape with words at the tip of your tongue and eyes that held nothing but a blank stare. Immediately you redact and return facing forward toward the teacher scribbling about classroom rules no one was gonna follow anyway, but to everyone’s dismay it’s important to talk about, to ‘keep the class in tact’ they say.

The monotonous voice your teacher had made you wonder if you were destined to fail English literature, his voice was enough to lull you to sleep.

You itched for an interaction from someone that’s wasn’t in his mid fifties talking about not being allowed to eat in class.

Nerves built up in your body, you were nervous about interacting with the girl next to you, the reason? It’s unknown.

A compliment shouldn’t be so nerve wracking to say, it’s just a small sentence starter that might blossom in a conversation if you keep persuading at it.

You aren’t out going but you also aren’t an introvert, you can handle and maintain conversations although you can’t seem to initiate one.

‘Come on y/n don’t be coward’

You push, or try to, push all the nerves and butterflies swarming in your stomach out the way, seemingly forcing words out your throat.

“Hey girl, what’s your name?” your words merely come in a whisper, “your frog ring is really cute, where’d you get it from?.” Immediately you cringe, wanting to back out before the latter could even reply.

Can a hole appear under my chair and swallow me already?

You bit your lip when the girl seemed to perk up at your words. It seemed like it took a good two minutes for the words to process into her head once she realizes you were talking to her, her gaze shifts onto you with a welcoming smile.

She faces you completely now, and that’s when you realize the hairs poking out of her hoodie wasn’t even orange, it was more red. Mentally, you face palm, ‘she’s not a ginger, I can’t even distinguish colors anymore’

“Its Kyujin and thank you” her smile stretches upon her lips, “Its a friendship ring with my two other friends, one of them has a mom who owns a jewelry shop down town so it was made there” She follows suit, fiddling with the green polished ring with little details displaying an animal on her slender finger.

Her voice was soft, and you were glad of her friendly aura, she seemed like quite the talker which automatically ceased any awkward bone in your body.

“What’s your name?” She adds, forgetting she hadn’t even asked, her face displays a small shade of red in embarrassment for forgetting.

This went unnoticed by you, “I’m y/n.” You reply smoothly, “I knew someone who’s mom owned a jewelry shop down town as well.” It was something you didn’t wanna bring up, due to the bittersweet memories that followed suit with it, but if you wanted a friend in a class where you knew nobody, you knew you had to speak up.

“What a coincidence” she chuckles, “maybe it’s the same person?”

Your heart drops at her words and you wave her off with your hands, “oh I doubt that.. the girl moved schools.”

You continue to watch her fiddle with the ring with curiosity filling your eyes, initials flash on one side of the ring and your eyes gaze upon three letters in black ink.

‘khe’ the ring read.

“My friend was actually supposed to move schools but she decided against it.” She looks at you, with a shrug, “something about the track team being worse over there compared to here.”

You furrow your eyebrows at her words, it shone a hint of familiarity to you, ‘do we know the same person?’ The thought crashes into your mind but you brush it off as a simple coincidence, like Kyujin had said. “Imagine it is the same person, how crazy would that be?”

“Very” she chuckles, “but I mean, does the name hae-”

“Class dismissed!” A booming sound from the man standing before you rings in your ears.

The bell sounds after and you look at her with a frown, how did time go by that quick? You could’ve sworn you just started the conversation five minutes ago. Had you wished the conversation continued you could’ve scored a new number in your contacts.

You swing your bag onto your shoulders, “sorry for the cut off Kyujin, but what was the name?” Tilting your head in curiosity.

She shakes her head, “Sorry y/n I would love to tell you about her and all but I really gotta go, my history class is in the fourth floor and I don’t wanna be late.” She jumps onto her feet, pacing toward the door, “I’ll see you around though!” She yells.

You blink and she’s gone, “that was quick” you mutter, if she had enough time to say all that she could’ve said that girls name. You walk out the classroom without a rush compared to Kyujin who just ran out, but you understood why and your next class was on the same floor your currently in, thank god.

Your stomach begins to churn at the conversation when you recall it, something about the initial on her ring and the name she was about to say was all too familiar, you had a gut feeling something was up.

‘The girls name starting with a H and her first three letters to her name is Hae.. am I assuming things right now?’ You wonder. Curse the time for cutting her sentence short, now you’ll only be focused on the name she was about to say, or more so, could’ve said.

It would be crazy if the girl she knew and was talking about was the same girl you once knew wouldn’t it?

You couldn’t seem to shake off the sudden unease you felt.

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a/n: guys mi cumpleaños is today lolol and this wasn’t that proof read (oops)

Taglist (open!!) -> @awkwardtoafault @sofakingwoso @sewiouslyz @idk-idc-rn @everydayiloveyves @jenaissantex @mightymyo @yoontoonwhs @lesleepyyy @sserajeans @kittyrinrinie @urwyf3

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imawhoreidiot · 2 years

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Babe, wake up! New Ghost theory(s) dropped

I have come down with a bad case of Ghost brain rot, so I feel compelled to contribute to silly little theories to keep myself from going insane. Big fat “what will happen to Copia?” theory under da cut :D (warning: it is long, BUT IT SCRATCHES AN ITCH, I PROMISE)

Recently, there was a rerelease of Mary on a Cross. At first, it seemed innocuous enough. Bands release songs in separate single albums all the time to get a little extra money. It wasn’t until I saw the cover that I started thinking there was some foreshadowing involved.

On the cover of the new album is Copia depicted in Roman coin fashion. He is crying blood. The coin is a parody of a Caligula coin (Both shown below)

In case you are not familiar with Caligula, he was a Roman Emperor that was killed by the Praetorian Guard, which were the equivalent to his bodyguards at the time.

Among the reasons he got assassinated: he became delusional with power. He demanded to be worshipped as a god, was accused of incest, and made many other poor political decisions (This is a highly simplified version of his reign.) The final straw was when he tried to move from Rome to Alexandria, Egypt in hopes to be venerated as a living God. Before he was killed, his delusions and paranoia grew to include those he was closest to and the people around him.

I don’t think any members of the clergy actually want Copia dead…yet. I think within the next year, we’ll be shown a side of Copia we’ve never seen before and he’s going to get more and more paranoid of dying or being replaced.

On stage, he is already starting to display irregular and erratic behavior. While singing Rats, he seems to have started yelling “NO” after the line “Never to return.” I’ve also seen videos of him being a little more tough on the Ghouls.

More specifically, I think the Ghouls are going to be the ones to do it. They will grow fed up with his paranoid behavior and be the ones to do it, likely on stage. Impera is all about how no empires lasts forever and I think that message will directly correlate with how Copia will die.

Additional support to the ghouls will be the ones to kill Copia theory: there was a patch that was available to purchase on the website that is now sold out. It’s a mimic of Michelangelo’s Pieta.

As you can see, the patch shows Copia lying dead on Sister Imepators (heavily implied to be his his mothers) lap. In the original, Jesus is lying dead on Mary’s lap. One of the leading causes of Jesus’ death was due to the betrayal of one of his disciples. What if this is foreshadowing that Copia’s death will be caused by one (or more) of his ghouls???

Actually, since this is a theory post, and I’m already on the topic of the parallels between Copia, Imperator, Jesus and Mary, I’m going to go fuckign crazy with the theories,,,, so here’s your BOGO theory for the day,,,,

I also think Copia is being teased as being the antichrist. As in, son of Satan. I think Tobias is really amping up the “Copia and Sister Imperator are Jesus and Mary parallel.” I don’t think Nihil is actually Copia’s dad, but I do think he is playing the begrudging step father role, which makes him kinda a Joseph figure as well.

The main evidence I have for this theory is one of the fixed songs on the US tours set list is Prime Mover. Prime Mover hasn’t been played live in YEARS. Prime Mover is about Satan using a Nun to carry his child. Anti Virgin Mary if you will. Regardless, I think within the next year, we’ll get a lot more evidence to support some kind of coming of the antichrist, even if it’s not Copia. I have no idea where this theory would fit in with the other one, but hey, I said it was a theory, not that it made cohesive sense.

“But OP, who could ever possibly come after Copia??” no one says.

“Do you have any theories?” no one pleads.

I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING DO!!!

In messages from the clergy, chapter ten, we get to see a little glimpse of Copia’s room. There’s a part in the video ( 1:40) that shows some Catholic style prayer candles. The one that has the main focal point is this bad boy

St Martin of Tours to be exact. And what was he famous for, you might ask? RESURRECTING 3 (THREE) PEOPLE FROM THE DEAD. THREE EXACTLY FOLKS.

Now, if the papas do get brought back (here's to hoping) I don’t think that they’ll front for the band, but I do think that there is a chance that they’ll be there.

I unfortunately do not have anymore additions to any theories for now, but I am insane and don’t shut up, so more to come I’m sure!! I’m sure none of these theories are new, I just needed to articulate something

#the band ghost #ghost hc #ghost theory #papa emeritus 4 #cardinal copia #sister imperator #papa nihil #tobias forge #nameless ghouls #papa emiritus ii #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus i #i am going crazy #don't yell at me for lack of originality i just be talking sometimes

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