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cdragons · 10 months ago

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Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You

Next Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Felix is delulu, Reader is stressed and homesick and kinda crazy but she a baddie, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver will be Oliver (a creep), and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: This fic is a follow-up to this post and I would like to thank grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

“FUCK!” you yelled at the top of your lungs just before your nose slammed down on the dewy grass.

Groaning in pain before the mortification of realizing what had just happened kicked in.

You didn’t know what was worse: the fact you had a full front view of the giant’s junk or that he body-slammed you onto the ground and caused you to land on top of the painting worth 30% of your final grade.

You wanted to scream your head off. The paint had finally dried, and you could finally leave the studio at two in the morning. It was close to finals, and pretty much anyone on campus who didn’t get accepted because of their daddy’s bank account was in their dorms. You had hoped that this fact would mean that the paths were empty and, therefore, safe to transport your 30” x 40” canvas.

“SORRY!”

You shot your head up to locate the person who just apologized. Lo’ and behold, it was the same plastered, pasty cunt with a bird’s nest disaster of a haircut drunken idiot who decided it was a good idea to go streaking across campus. His only other distinguishable features were that he was at least 6’3” and that he had a small steel piece pierced on his face.

After the “apology,” he and his friend continued running off to God’s knows where in the dead of night—leaving you behind on the lawn with a bleeding nose, bruised knees and palms, and an oil painting that was torn and caked in mud three days before its deadline.

There was no way to redo it. The project was assigned at the beginning of October. It took 5 hours to set up the models with the motifs and lights, 3 hours to take pictures, and 10 hours to underdraw the preliminary sketch. You didn’t even want to think about the sheer number of sleepless nights you spent in the studio mixing colors and layering. On top of that, you also had your other finals in other courses to study for.

You had practically been living in that studio for the past month. All of the custodians and security guards knew you by name. You got first dibs every day when they refilled the vending machines. It was a true godsend when you didn’t have time to visit the dining halls. Everyone had been so kind and sweet to you. It was a warm welcome compared to the snark and snobbery you experienced from most of your classmates.

Crying from the devastation of the loss of your situation, your shaking legs carried your body and what remained of your work into the building. You knew that your professor stayed in her office late for grading. You could only hope that she would sympathize with your pitiful appearance.

“Wait, so did you get the extension?”

Lifting your head from the sticky library table at Bodleian’s, you stared at your best only friend, Michael Gavey, with a blank stare. You didn’t react to his wince after he took in your haggard appearance. You didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked terrible.

Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot red with dark mulberry bags underneath them. You had paled since coming to dreary England, but now you looked straight-up sickly. And if that wasn’t enough, your eyes had less life than a dead fish rotting at a Sunday Market.

Your voice was so meek that you were sure he had to strain to hear you.

“Yeah…I got it.”

You knew you had no choice but to beg your Studio Arts professor for an extension. But it killed you doing it. Professor Daria Martin was your favorite teacher and the only faculty member who actually liked you. Her support toward you meant everything to you; the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint her, let alone be the reason why she lost her job.

Your usually so snarky four-eyed friend perked up at the news.

“So, is everything okay?” he asked with hope.

Your head fell on neon-yellow ink-stained pages that filled the paperweight your ethics professor called a textbook. A bitter laugh fell from as your lips lifted to a wry, dry grin.

“Oof, not that simple, is it?” he asked.

“Is it ever?”

“So what do you have to do now?”

“Well-,” you lifted your head to take a deep breath as you started to explain, “- I still have the photos and copies of the sketch. But because the canvas was so large, it was special-ordered. That means I need to wait until another one can be delivered, and since all the works need to be completed in the studio, I can’t leave the campus.”

As you finished your explanation, Michael nodded his head in understanding before he paused, and a look of devastation painted his features.

“Wait, so does that mean-”

“I won’t be able to fly back home for the holidays.”

Fuck, you were about to cry again. You had been so excited to see your old friends and family. You remembered how absolutely homesick you were at the beginning of the term. Because you were a scholarship student from America, your parents encouraged you to settle on campus by moving to your dorm earlier than everyone else. It was bad enough that you missed Thanksgiving, but you had really set your heart on coming home for Christmas and New Year’s. What made it worse was that your parents had told you all about the dinner they had planned for your homecoming. It was going to be a feast of all your favorites.

English food sucked balls.

Your only saving grace was the Crunchie bars Michael got for you when you studied together or when you had to rewrite edit his essays.

You really DID cry after first reading his essay for Introductory English class at the beginning of the year.

“Did you try to report it?”

“Report what? ‘Hey, there’s a wasted asshole running naked across campus, and he body-slammed me to the ground and tore my fucking massive campus that blocked my view of the jackass. He’s probably richer than the goddamn Queen, given how he’s wasted right before finals.’”

“Do you have any description of him?”

“He’s a giant with a small eyebrow piercing, and his fat ass looked like it had never seen the sun.”

Without lifting your head, you heard the scrape of Michael’s chair before he walked across the table to sit in the chair next to you.

“Hey,” he began, bringing you into a warm arm hug, “it’ll be okay. You called your parents about it, right?”

“Yeah -” you sighed before continuing, “- they told me they understood and would Skype me daily.”

“See! Everything’s going to be – wait, did you say that this guy was tall?”

Furrowing your brow in confusion, you looked at your friend at the change in his tone from light and supportive to sharp and interrogative.

“Yeah?”

“How tall?”

“Umm,” you had to think about that, “I’d say he was about 6’3” or above? He was really fucking tall.”

“And he had an eyebrow piercing?”

Ok, now you were really confused. “Yes? Michael, where are you going with this?”

“I think the guy who ran you over was Felix Catton.”

You shot your favorite idiot with a deadpan glare.

“Felix Catton? The same Felix Catton who just so happens to be the same Felix Catton you hate?”

Michael solemnly nodded. “It’s him. It has to be. The only person on campus as tall as him is his cousin, and he doesn’t have piercings.”

“And he’s black.”

“Yeah, that too.”

You were skeptical, and it showed. You didn’t want to callously dismiss your friend, but you knew more than anyone how much his hatred for Oxford’s Golden Boy could impair his judgment. You were by no means a fan of the guy, but accusing someone of anything they didn’t do just because your friend thought so went against your principles.

He grabbed your arm and dragged you to the bookshelf in front of the table where Felix and his groupies sat. Both of your books and bags were in your chairs, but you managed to keep your spiral notebook with you. It wasn’t hard to find them – they were the loudest table in the entire library. They also reeked of cigarettes and booze.

“See?” Michael hissed. “Giant, pale, and eyebrow piercing. It’s him!”

“Michael,” you softly groaned, “just because you hate Felix Catton doesn’t mean you can –”

An extremely shrill voice interrupted you.

“I can’t believe you and Farleigh actually ran around campus naked!”

A petite girl with full pink lips and dull red hair latched on the arm of the man of the hour. “It was so hot to watch!”

This girl has weird-ass tastes in guys.

“And then how you crashed into that dunce at Ruskin! Brilliant!”

Your blood ran cold while another one of Catton’s faceless droning puppets chimed in.

“God, what an idiot! It’s their own fault, anyway. Who the fuck walks in the middle of the walk path with a fucking big canvas in front of them?”

One of the lessons hammered into your skull young was never to move before you think. That lesson had saved you ten ways from Sunday. But this was not one of those times.

You’re pretty sure that you hear Michael calling out your name as you walk away from the shelf and towards the overcrowded table. Tunnel vision took over you as you made your way to the overgrown idiot who almost cost you your entire future.

Grabbing the back of his shirt collar, you dragged the 6’5” towering fool on his ass all the way outside. You finally let go when the two of you reached the back of the building that had no windows.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, did you relish the crunch that immediately followed your swing.

Fuck, was his head killing him.

Felix should have known better than to have gotten cross-faded last night, but Farleigh had practically goaded him to do it. It’s not like his cousin ever had to worry about his grades for any of his courses during finals – the little shit-starter had always been so fucking academically gifted.

He skipped pretty much all of his morning classes and barely made it to his afternoon schedule on time while completely zoning out the entire time.

If he bombs on all his finals, his dad was going to absolutely murder him. But chances were he and his mum were going to be too busy entertaining whichever new friend his mum brought in for shelter.

“You alright there, champ?”

Felix swiveled his head too quickly and immediately groaned in pain. The motion made his hangover even worse. Rubbing his eyes to try to soothe the pounding in his head, he slowly opened them to look at his cousin.

The slag didn’t have the decency to look even a little bit affected from last night’s event – the fucker. No, he was sitting there with all Cheshire grins and gleaming eyes while Felix was two seconds from heaving his guts out.

“Yeah, I’m alright, mate.” He replied in a tired groan.

“Must have been quite the night. Wonder if it had anything to do with that little cocktail you took from our sweet Annabel’s belly button?”

Disgust was clear on Felix’s face as he recalled the body shot he had taken from his ex-FWB’s navel. He truly must have been off his rocker last night – he thought he was over with body shots since graduating secondary, but apparently not.

If he somehow got an STD from doing it, V was going to kill him.

But even with all of his horrible actions that caused the raging war inside his skull, that wasn’t the main cause of his misery.

Farleigh’s grin dropped as judgment painted his features.

“Oh,” he moaned, “please tell me this isn’t about ‘your angel’ from last night.”

He didn’t just take the dare of streaking across the grounds just for the hell of it. He needed an excuse to pass through the art building – all for the chance of seeing you.

You. His angel of paints and books who lived in the empty studio rooms of Oxford University’s Ruskin School of Art and whose presence harangued him every hour of every day. Everywhere Felix went, he would unconsciously look for you.

It was his soul calling out for yours – he knew it.

Felix had never felt so drawn to another human being in his entire existence. He’d never seen you outside of the libraries, art building, and maybe the dining hall if he was lucky. You never went to any parties or even had a drink at the pub at King’s Arms. He didn’t even have classes with you, but he knew Farleigh did. Word was that you and his cousin had shared a few classes – what’s more was that you were likely the only person who could go head-to-head with him in academics.

And to make it worse, the prat refused to tell him anything about you – not even your fucking name.

“Believe me,” he told him after Felix had been begging his cousin for hours to share anything about you, “she is way above your league.”

Which really hurt his feelings, by the way – sure, you were probably way above in book smarts, but there wasn’t a girl that remained indifferent to his charms after a good talking fucking.

“I still can’t believe you won’t at least tell me her name,” Felix complained once more, “or even just give me her number!”

“She’s an American here on scholarship and a bore,” he quipped back, “what’s there to tell? And can you please shut up? I want to get some reading done before tonight. You do remember the in-class essay we have tomorrow, right?”

Bloody hell, he did not. Pushing down the bitter feeling in his chest, he and his cousin made their way to meet everyone at the back. As soon as he sat down, Annabel clung on to his arm. Thank fuck he had been wearing one of his thicker jumpers – otherwise, her claws that she called nails would have ripped open the fabric.

“Hey, Felix!” she made sure to offer a very generous sight of her cleavage, “are you ready for tonight?”

Felix chuckled lowly before responding. “Aren’t I always?”

And just like that – he completely zoned out the rest of the conversation.

Annabel was probably saying something to get him to notice her, and Farleigh was likely responding so he wouldn’t have to – but Felix couldn’t be bothered to pretend to care.

He was lost in the living daydream that was his angel that haunted the art studios of Ruskin School of Art.

He was desperate to learn everything about you.

If he asked you to talk about your favorite books, would your eyes sparkle in delight, or would your smile widen in glee?

If he grabbed your hand, would your palms feel marred by his rough skin, or would you press your callouses to his?

If he pressed his mouth on yours, would your lips feel as soft and plump as they look? Or was their luster forever damaged by your teeth biting them whenever you were in deep concentration?

If he breathed in your scent at the crook of your neck, would your skin smell like the paints forever on your brushes or the musky pages of heavy ancient books you always carried in your arms?

If he planted kisses from your throat to your breasts, would you mewl in pleasure or whimper in anticipation?

If he touched your cunt, would you arch your back in ecstasy? Or would your legs crumble, and you would have no choice but to sink into his arms?

Felix’s thoughts were rudely interrupted when Farleigh jammed his bony elbow into his ribcage and hurriedly whispered.

“Look alive, Golden Boy.”

Looking forward, it was better than any of his wet dreams combined. It was you.

Your hair was loose, and your fists were clenched. You reminded him of a ferocious lion goddess with how focused your gaze was on him.

But before Felix would prepare himself to make a good impression, you walked behind him and grabbed the back of his shirt collar before fucking dragging his ass out of his seat and outside.

Bloody hell, for someone so much shorter than him, you were fucking strong.

When you finally released your grip, he fell on the ground like an idiot before he tried to stand and steady himself as quickly as he could.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, you might have actually broken his nose.

After staggering back, you started using the spiral notebook in your other hand to land blow after painful blow on his body.

“YOU. STUPID. FUCKING. INGRATE –” Each word that left your mouth was emphasized with another hit from your notebook “– I. HATE. YOU. YOU. RUINED. MY. PAINTING. I. SPENT. SO. MUCH. TIME. ON. IT. AND. NOW. I. CAN’T. GO. HOME. FOR. BREAK. BECAUSE. OF. YOUR. STUPID. SELF!”

Felix was confident you had more to say, but you were pulled off him by your friend – he’s pretty sure it’s Mitchell – by the waist with you kicking and screaming out profanities to him as your friend called out your name to try to calm you down.

He wondered what it said about him if he told anyone how much you looked like an angry cat. His parents would send him to a shrink if he told them how adorable he found you right now.

If you were this wild while fighting, he could only imagine how riled up you would get in bed.

Fuck, you might have just unlocked a new kink in him.

Catching his breath as he watched your friend drag you away into the distance, he heard a slow clap to his left.

Farleigh was leaning on the corner – his smug expression making it clear that he had seen the whole thing – as he looked at his cousin with a bemused expression before walking toward him and giving a sympathetic pat on his back.

“Well,” he started to break the tension, “at least you know her name.”

“Yeah,” Felix agreed, “I know her name.”

And he knew that you smelled more like the paints on your brushes than the books you carried with subtle notes of gardenias.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @barbiedragon, @valeskafics, @lexyysworld, @punkiwiki, @saltburnedme, @arcielee

Let me know if you want to be tagged for future Saltburn fics!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #michael gavey x reader

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rimunagenius · 8 months ago

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And They Were Roomates

☙ pairing: Kate Martin x Roommate!reader

☙ word count: 2.5k words

☙ warnings: RPF!! use of y/n, not proof read.

☙ ri speaks: I need more kate martin content and i haven’t been fed the specific ones that i need so i must write them to the best of my horrendous abilities. Idek how good this will be…im sorry in advance LMFAO. also this is two thousand five hundred words but it looks a lot shorter….crying

this is also a general announcement that i will indeed be refreshing my blog, so that means new and updated master lists and posts are coming out soon so sorry if you get a spam of rimunagenius on your feed!!

Part 1

| Series Masterlist |

When you first started in Iowa, you never expected the immediate love you recieved from the people there. They were friendly, generous, and so much different from people in California. Especially your roommate, Kate Martin. You had met her shortly after your first day of Junior year. A while after, you two became roomates because you needed more space, and she needed someone to split rent with in her apartment. Sounded like a great deal to both of you.

"You don't mind?" You asked unsure. Not wanting to impose on her, possibly ruining plans with making a deal with her actual teammates.

"No! Not at all! I really like you and you're alot of fun! I'd love for you to move in with me." She beamed at you, giving you a side hug when she saw your expression change. You both were ecstatic.

Since then, you had been living with Kate for almost two years. You two had become inseparable. Always on campus together, meeting up between classes to get coffee or lunch together, sometimes with Caitlin and your other friends. It was great. You were happy with your home away from home.

You had transfered from UC Irvine and decided to pursue your degree and career in sports medicine here in Iowa City. You were one of the new athletic trainees and ocassionly a photographer; your previous major was in photography and Lisa and the administration had really loved your resume and work, so they hired you as a part time (barely) photographer, for whenever they wanted more shots than what they usually wanted or a fill in.

Currently, you were needed in the Carver stadium to help record a mic’d up practice session for the team. It was for the Iowa Hawkeye Youtube channel. You had experience because you too had a youtube channel that you started when you first transferred to Iowa. So you had told Lisa and the coaches that you’d be able to film it.

“Hey, Gabbie!” You smiled at her as you walked into the locker room, approaching Kate’s cubby to set your stuff down. Kate telling you this morning before she left that you could put your stuff with hers.

“Hey, girlie! So guess what?” You and Gabbie loved to gossip. It was so much fun and it started when you were redoing the tape on her ankles, and she looked down so you asked her about it, and since then, you both have told eachother whatever gossip you had.

“Oh my god, what?” You took your sweater out of your bag, the locker room being chilly, so you could imagine the court.

“So that boy Nick in my econ class, totally asked about you today. I didn’t want to crush his hopes and dreams but I did say you weren’t his type.” She took a seat next to where you were standing to put her shoes on.

“Wait, the boy I said would so be my type if he was a girl? That Nick?” You laughed because he was really nice and such a sweet guy but he just wasn’t a girl. Men are pretty but only to look at.

“Yes!”

“How’d he take it?” This guy has asked you out once before but you just said you weren’t looking to date. Probably should’ve elaborated on that one.

“But he asked me “Oh, who is? Does he go here?” And I was like,” she paused to reenact the face she made. “I said it too fast so I didn’t have time to say “Oh, It’s long distance or something” sooo I don’t know.” She rambled and just pulled her hair into a small ponytail.

“What do you mean? That made no sense, Gab.” You were confused. She looked guilty of something but you didn’t want to pressure her but you also really wanted to know what she had said about you to Nick.

“I kinda sorta said you had a girlfriend already, and he took that as ‘Oh, she’s dating her roommate Kate Martin’ because he said he supposedly sees you guys together everywhere.” She meant well. It really wasn’t her fault that Nick totally misread the situation.

“Oh shit.” Your jaw dropped. You thought it was awkward but now it went full fledged horrendous. You were already out, and anyone who followed your insta would’ve saw it in your stories, so you weren’t worried about that but you were worried for Kate.

“So what do we do about the fact that a random kid on campus thinks your dating Kate?”

“Ok wait, i’m actually scared. Like how do you think Kate will take it?” You were talking to Gabbie and immediately knew you fucked up by seeing the expression on her face.

“How will I take what?” Kate walked in, hair down, dressed in her practice uniform, and sat on the chair next to you. You hadn’t realized that you sat down with Gabbie. Lost in the conversation and frenzy of the new mess that could possibly affect yours and Kate’s social life dramatically.

“I’m just gonna…” Gabbie got up, and walked out, meeting the others outside on the court.

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you in a minute.” You said to the girl before turning to Kate. You had caught her up on the lore behind you and Nick, if you could even call this one sided infatuation lore. Now you just had to tell her the problem. “So Gabbie tried to tell him that I was already seeing some girl. But Nick jumped to this whole conclusion that me and you were together.”

You watched her face. Looking for any sort of negative reaction. Waiting for her to blow up on you. “Oh.”

“And when Gabbie tried to say it wasn’t you and that were just friends, and that my supposed girlfriend lives in California, he got up and left. So it may be possible that the whole Iowa college campus will assume we’re together.” You played with your fingers as you watched her some more. Still waiting for her explosion.

“I mean, I don’t mind. He sounded weird so if it keeps the guy away from you, i’m okay with being the ‘pretend’ girlfriend.” She shrugged her shoulders. Grabbing her shoes from behind you, your chair sitting right infront of the cubby that belonged to her:

“Kate. Are you sure? This is so random and so strange and I would totally get it if your uncomfortable.” You wanted it to be clear that this situation could go away if she was uncomfortable. If she was uncomfortable you’d go on a date with him and just tell him it won’t work after. It’d be bad for you if he goes around saying rude things but you couldn’t care less about people you don’t know. You just wanted to make sure Kate wasn’t the one feeling weird.

“Yeah, I mean—I don’t have to kiss you in public, right? I feel like that’s overstepping a boundary we have not thought about setting.”

“No, Kate. You do not have to kiss me in public. Wait so you’d kiss me in private?” You looked at the girl, now fully joking around as you wiggled your eyebrows and laughed.

“Oh yeah for sure.” Kate made a funny face while nodding her head before grabbing her water and standing up. You following behind to get this practice and video recording started.

“Oh, and your getting mic’d up today. I don’t know if Coach Lisa told you.” You say as you both walk onto the court.

You and Kate had showered, separately unfortunately, and sat on the couch. You had been trying to convince her the whole way home from practice to watch New Girl. She agreed after ten excruciating minutes of your nagging.

You were deciding to pick the snack you wanted, grabbing M&Ms you bought at the store yesterday, snickers, chips, and popcorn. You wanted to watch as many episodes as possible because you both started school late tomorrow and it was an off day for practice.

“What are these practices anyways? Are they like preseason workouts to get back in shape or?” You watched Kate as she picked her snacks.

“Yeah. Basically. We’re technically only allowed to goof off a little during those ones.” Kate laughed, referring to the mic’d up practice today. Coach Lisa usually wants a more focused and intimate space during the actual season. “Oh my. What if we just kill this whole tub of Neapolitan ice cream?” Kate took it out of the freezer and suddenly all your snack choices went back to the cabinets.

“Ou deal, Martin.” You grabbed two spoons before making your way to the couch. Grabbing the blanket off the backrest, and throwing it over you both. You both settled and got comfy ready to start the marathon of New Girl.

You were both sitting in silence after you decided to just do a highlight reel of episodes since you weren’t going to force Kate to watch multiple seasons. "Are you excited for this upcoming season? Your last season?" You asked as you looked to your right. Kate was seated next to you while you both decided to disregard bowls and just eat the ice cream straight from the tub. She held the tub as you both dug what you wanted out of it. She shoved more ice cream into her mouth and she smiled and nodded her head.

"I am. Just scared and sad." She said somewhat incoherently due to not having swallowed the mouthful of ice cream. You nodded your head. You had already adapted to the Kate language. When she talked while yawning, mouth full, her body language, and her facial expressions. Not many people were fluent like you, and you were actually proud to be one of the people. So you understood exactly what she meant. You saw everything else she was feeling just by the look in her eye and the shape of her lips.

But you also felt sad for her too. You’d both be a sixth-year, grad students, in a couple months. This year bigger for her more than you. This year being her last and final run in her collegiate career. This was huge. You both knew this but wanted to focus on the nicer aspects. You and the girls would support her and be her friend even if she decided to never touched a basketball again. You guys were for life.You didn’t play, so you felt there was nothing you thought you could say other than just being her friend.

"You'll be okay, sweetheart." You wrapped your arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. A small comforting hug, atleast a hug at which this position provided, and kissed the top of her head. You only used terms of endearment like this in small, comforting, intimate moments. You felt this was the right time. "I'll be here for you, and you have the girls. We’ll back you in whatever you do, outside of basketball and school. You can’t ever get rid of us if you tried. But I will give you all the support and all the ice cream you can eat right now." You smiled at the blonde. You both stared at eachother, a little too long, “We are not beating the supposed ‘girlfriend’ allegations right now, Martin.” She bursted out laughing. You not far behind.

"But seriously, thanks shortie." She said as she patted your knee, right before she lost it again and laughed out loud. You immediatey cringed at the name, and pushed her away from you.

"OH! my god! Immediately no, Kate." You laughed again, half embarassment and half amusement. "That is not funny. You sound like a frat boy." That earned another snort laugh from Kate.

"You're right. I'm sorry." You side-eyed her. Pulling the blanket a little closer to you. Scooting over the tiniest bit over to feign anger and hurt. Still managing to catch her movement through your peripheral.

"Bro, I'm not even that much shorter than you. Just short three inches." You rolled your eyes at your best friend, turning back to the episode where Jess and Nick kiss eachother for the first time. Your favorite episode.

"Yes, I know. I know how you feel about my short jokes. I almost cried when you ignored me for three and a half days." Kate chuckled as she looked to you her smile dropping, a frown forming when you still didn't acknowledge her. "Oh, come on, y/n. Don't ignore me again, please! I was kidding." She asked you while chuckling nervously, she asked you two more times, when that didn’t work she insisted on poking you for a two minutes straight.

"Okay, Kate. I forgive you. Now shush, my favorite part is coming up." You kept your eyes on the screen and tried to reach for your spoon in the tub. Your fingers reaching everywhere but your spoon. "Kate can you help me please?"

"Yes, but haven't you already seen this show like eight-billion times?" She grabbed a spoon, whichever one was closest, forgetting which one was which, and scooping a good spoonful, before bringing the spoon to your mouth. "Open." You opened your mouth and took the ice cream happily.

"Thank you, you big teddy bear. God's gift, I'm telling you." You said as you watched the best scene on sitcom TV about to unfold.

"Im just going to pretend you're talking about me and not your show." Kate whispered. "You're welcome, pretty." She said louder so you could hear.

That got your attention. It wasn’t something that you hadn’t heard come out of her mouth and directed to you before; she's called you pretty multiple times when you had asked if the outfit you were wearing out looked good or if the makeup you put on was good for this dinner a girl you were seeing on and off wanted to take you out to. But she's never once used it in this context. You got a nervous feeling in your stomach, something you recognized as butterflies for sure. Fighting the urge to smile at the compliment, a small blush creeping up on your cheeks. Fighting the thoughts you had about her.

It was something new but this one thing…this you weren't going to get used to. You guys were best friends and just roomates. You can't feel anyway about this.You decided to ignore it and take it as a compliment in the moment to make up for the short joke. It definitely wasn’t something serious as you were making.

"I was talking about both of you. The TV and you, Kit-Kate." You put your arm around her shoulder and continued to watch the show. Watching the scene you had been waiting for all night to play. “This was the best cinematic experience I have ever had.” You whispered, now reaching for the spoon again for some ice cream.

Kate beating you to it, already having got another spoonful for you, feeding it to you like she did a couple of seconds ago. You smiled and thanked her before you both decided to cut the show, and search for a movie of both your choosing this time.

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jacesvelaryons · 11 months ago

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english love affair

social media au

kpop idol!reader x tom blyth

fc: jennie kim

i love making these and have some in my drafts so feel free to send requests/face claim requests/suggestions

(ps: i had to redo this bc the first time i posted not only did it not post, it didn’t save any of my changes so i had to do it again. 😭)

Requests are OPEN for both soc med aus and blurbs for Tom and his characters

yourusername

liked by zendaya and others

@calvinklein

hunterschafer beautiful girl

liked by yourusername

↪️yourusername that’s you babes 😘

taylorswift so proud of you hon

lola.tung can’t wait to see your pretty face all on the billboards AHH

tomblyth ❤️

liked by yourusername

↪️ user23 OH?

↪️ fan98 they know each other?

↪️ user9 and she liked!

user8 insert olivia wilde nodding meme

random56 when you’re that girl!

username7 y/n world domination she’s a singer dancer rapper songwriter producer model like what can she not do

ynfans

liked by randomuser and others

y/n has now followed actor tom blyth who has recently stared in the new hunger games movie the ballad of songbirds and snakes!

he has previously liked and commented on her recent post, and she’s stated previously that she’s a fan of the trilogy and has watched this new movie multiple times!

ynfan98 this is interesting bc she barely follows ppl as it is

user76 the way she’s barely active on social media and does this she’s so old lady coded 😭

user12 DID YALL SEE TOMS THIRST TRAP

↪️ user8 HIS WHAT?!

↪️ username6 YES SKDKDK not even a few hours since she followed now he’s like this

↪️ random87 real because i’d be thirst trapping to get her attention

tomblyth

liked by yourusername and others

outtakes from my recent vogue italia shoot

user1 ok thirst trap

ynfan NOT HIM POSTING THIS RIGHT AFTER YOURNAME FOLLOWS HIM BACK

↪️ random488 HES SO REAL

↪️ user978 IM CRYING HES SO HOT

↪️ user11 AND IT WORKED SHE LIKED BACK

rachelzegler you look okay i guess 🙄

↪️ tomblyth i’ll take it

mayahawke looking good my boy

↪️ tomblyth 👍

↪️ random5 his millennial ahh reply 😭

liked by mayahawke

yourusername stunning

liked by tomblyth

↪️ user12 not him acting coy after that thirst trap when she followed him 😭

↪️ user9 he thinks he’s slick when he’s probably fangirling she’s noticing him

user12 how did they meet not my worlds colliding

↪️ random1 probably rachel introduced them yk how rach is a social butterfly

liked by rachelzegler

↪️ user9 see? rach liking just confirms it she set them up

blythnation

liked by tbfns and others

tom’s now deleted story (1.12.2024)

user097 not him deleting this naurrr

tomfans wait my friends said they saw him in london what is he doing there if he ain’t filming anything?

user64 wait the shoes he’s holding look like something yn would wear at the recent gala in london hold on 👀👀

↪️ username678 you’re so right cause coincidence i think not

↪️ random75 maybe he went as her date! it’s a big night for her and her career. how sweet!

yourusername

liked by naomi and others

A huge honour to receive the Honorary MBEs and attend the South Korea-UK State Banquet at Buckingham Palace 🎖️💂‍♀️

onyourm_ark congrats y/nnie!

↪️ yourusername thanks markles im gonna cry omg

↪️ johnnyjsuh so proud of you y/n 🎉🥳

dualipa you’re one of us now 🥰🥰

↪️ yourusername kisses kisses hugs hugs

↪️ user87 one of us like 👀interesting

↪️ person97 cause she got an english man too

oliviarodrigo congrats my love!

liked by yourusername

↪️ yourusername thank you angel ✨

↪️ random97 wait both my girls booed up by english boys they’re on the same wavelength

username188 am i dreaming or does the shoes on tom’s deleted story match her dress

↪️ ynfan I SEE IT OMG did they go together

↪️ fan65 my cousin who works at the palace apparently heard he entered through the private back entrance to attend the ball and seated where he’s not visible by the camera

↪️ user97 so cute for her to bring him as a date! must be serious tho

↪️ randomuser7 great he attended and supported her during one of the biggest nights of her career but didn’t hog the spotlight

↪️ user121 a real man wouldn’t be threatened by a woman’s success

liked by yourusername

↪️ user53 exactly yn deserves someone who knows his place and that she’s a star and not to be jealous and try to stifle her talent and creativity and personality

yourusername posted a story

#tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #tom blyth #tom blyth x you #social media aus #kpop idol reader

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wosoamazing · 10 months ago

Text

First Camp

Summary: Its your first day at Matilda's camp

Warnings: None (I don't think - slight swearing but like maybe 1 word)

A/N: I can't decide whether I like this or not, but decided to post anyway, hope you like it.

As you stepped closer to the door, Steph placed her hands on your shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze something, she did quite often, something that worked every time. Kyra, Caitlin, and Sam had gone ahead, so it was just you and Steph, standing on the drive as you prepared yourself to walk into your first camp. “Steph. Y/N. Hi,” you and Steph both turned your heads to where the voice was coming from, it was Tony he was making his way over to you. “Hi Tony,” you said as you shook his hand.

“It’s great to see you Y/N, I am so excited to have you on camp, and I’m sure you will love it and all the girls will love you, we have made some adjustments to hopefully make the ease into camp easier for you” you nodded at what he is saying and smiled, he continued talking but you zoned out slightly, he was more directing his words at Steph anyway so it didn’t really matter. You were brought back to realty when you heard a phone ring, Tony got his phone from his pocket and looked down to it. “I’m sorry girls, I’ve got to take this, I look forward to talking with you more”.

“Bye Tony,” Steph said as he walked off.

You followed Steph as she walked up to the doors, she opened the doors and you walked through, the foyer was large, the back wall of the room had “Till It’s Done” plastered on it, surrounded by photos of past and present Matildas captains and vice captains, you smiled at the sight of Steph’s photo hanging on the wall. You suddenly walked into the back of Steph not realising she had stopped at a table in the middle of the room. “Oh Sorry,” you apologised to Steph after the impact.

“Don’t worry it’s all good, here take these” she handed you a pass which you assumed was your room key and a lanyard, which had your name and a photo of you on it. “Come on let’s go unpack and then we can go meet the girls” you nodded following her, she had some pieces of paper in her hand, you didn’t know what they were, but she didn’t hand any to you, so they must’ve been important captain things. The elevator ride was only a short one, and you were pleased to find that your room wasn’t too far from it. You looked at your door and then at the other doors, yours had two name plaques on it, the rest only had one.

“Um, Steph, why does this room have two names and the rest only have one?” you asked her.

“Well, we thought you wouldn’t want to be alone, and rather than you sleeping in someone’s bed with them every night because you couldn’t sleep, we decided you could share with me” she answered.

“We?” you looked at her curiously.

“Leah,” of course your sister knew you better than anyone, but you were glad that her and Steph had done this for you.

“Thank you,” you said as you gave her a cheesy grin.

“It’s all good.” She said ruffling your hair, which was a mistake as you spent the next 10 minutes redoing it rather than unpacking, but you probably would’ve redone it anyway as you had to get changed into your training kit which messed your hair up even more.

You were just about finished redoing your hair when there was a knock at the door, you turned to Steph who just sighed out “Come in, its open”.

The door opened and in walked Sam “Oh, we have another hair model I see” the girls chuckled at Sam’s joke, which must’ve been an inside joke, as Steph stuck the bits of paper she had previously been carrying up on the wall just near the door, turns out they were just the daily timetable and the camp schedule along with some other pieces of information. After you finished tying your ribbon you looked at the two older girls.

“Good to go?” they asked. “Yep,” you were about to walk out of the door when you remembered you needed something “Hang on,” you said ducking under Steph’s arm, and going back into the room, only a few seconds later you re-emerged.

“Lucky you remembered that because I totally forgot” Steph said surprised you were the one to remember something.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“It’s my Epi-Pen, I was told I had to give it to Dave at the start of my first training session, I have another one in my bag though, and apparently the medics have some too” you explained. You’ve never actually had to use your Epi-Pens before the only reaction you had was the first one but as it was severe it had been drilled into you since you were little that you must always have them with you and make sure others knew where they were, so now informing others had just become habit. “I’m allergic to bees, and also maybe wasps, but we don’t know that because I’ve never been stung by one” you continued, both girls amused by the fact you were happily talking to Sam.

“Let’s keep it that way, hey” Sam said as you nodded.

You were sat in the dining room between Steph and Sam. Alanna, Macca, Caitlin, and Hayley were also sat at the same table as you. You listened to the conversation the girls were having, every now and then you spoke, but you mostly sat there, listening, and eating. It was all quite peaceful and calm until Steph had a realisation. “Shit did you bring your computer and school stuff?” she blurted out, panic painted all over her face. You had indeed brought your school stuff knowing Leah would kill you if you didn’t, but you decided you wanted to have some fun, so instead of answering her with a yes, you turned to face her, your mouth sat slightly open as you held a mixed facial expression trying to combine deer in the headlights, worried and shocked. Much to your amusement she fell for it, “Fuck, Leah is going to kill me, that was like the number one thing on her list, in big bold letters.”

“She gave you a list?” you said trying to hold it all together, but you could no longer hide it and burst out laughing.

“Oh, you little menace. If you keep that up, you won’t be the favourite anymore”. Steph uttered as she jokingly hit you on the arm.

“Ha! told you I was the favourite Kyra,” you shouted across the room. “Steph you lied” Kyra cried back in response.

“That was a good one,” Sam said as the two of you high fived.

“Wait, you’re still in school?” Macca questioned, you nodded.

“How old are you?” Hayley asked “Um, 16”, your answer was followed by a few gasps and wows.

“Your good, like I knew you were good, we’ve played you in the WSL and stuff, but that means you’re really good, like player of the generation good.” You blushed at Alanna’s comment.

“Yeah, I know, she was on fire last night, had more attempts than me, somehow managed to get pass Millie more times than I got pass her sister. I told her in the airport that if I wasn’t careful, she might take my spot in the starting line-up” Sam replied, as the room goes silent due to Tony’s presences up the font. Once she realised, she quickly shut up and faced Tony.

“Thank you Sam” He said just like every teacher you ever meet had said when someone got caught for talking before he continued “Hello everyone and welcome back to camp, glad to see it is as chaotic as always, I can see some of you have already meet our new face and are allowing her to settle in quite well but I’d officially like to welcome and introduce Y/F/N Williamson to you all, and yes she did choose us over the Lionesses and we are very grateful for that but please no further questions surrounding that. I just wanted to let you know that since we have Y/N joining us and it has been a while since our last one, we will be doing fitness testing tomorrow which I know you all love” everyone groaned except for you who let out a little yay.

“Did I just hear a yay?” one of the training staff stood up as he said it.

“It came from this one,” Sam said as she pointed at you, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, well I already like you.” He replied giving you a kind smile.

Tony continued talking for a little while, once he had finished all the girls went out to train but as you, Sam, Kyra, Caitlin, and Steph had only just arrived this morning you were allowed to relax the whole day, some of the staff came over to introduce themselves to you and you chatted with them before lunch. After lunch you sat in the gym watching the girls train as you chatted some of their ears off, before they all had to leave to have showers, but they quickly re-joined you and the others in the dining room for diner where you continued to talk to all of them. After dinner you sat in the common room hanging out with all the girls and before you knew it you were lying in your bed saying “Good Night” to Steph.

“So did you like your first day?” Steph questioned, as she walked out of the bathroom and climbed into her bed.

“Yes, it was amazing” you said, nodding eagerly with a gigantic grin on your face.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Night, see you in the morning” Steph said whilst she turned the lamp off, and no more than five minutes later you were out like a light, still grinning from your amazing day.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #matildas #woso imagine #matildas x reader #auswnt #auswnt x reader

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cleolinda · 7 months ago

Text

I’ve read a few of the umpteen thousand upset comments about the paid Watcher service, and I’ve read comments angry about the upset comments. There’s one thing I want to point out, and it’s that this isn’t, or shouldn’t be, “You’re saying people don’t deserve to earn money for their work.”

The Watcher guys do deserve to earn money. I already give them money. I give them $5 a month on Patreon, not because I think they do or don’t give me $5 worth of media, but because I want to support them. I canceled Netflix for pissing me off with its price hike/ad tier, but I give Watcher Entertainment money.

They’re saying now that the Patreon will be solely about the podcasts, and they understand if people leave. I’m perfectly happy to switch the support I can afford to the streaming service. With the early adopter 30% discount, I’d actually save money. In fact, I tried to subscribe, but the site didn’t work.

Watcher wanting to profit from their shows isn’t the problem. It’s that they’re now discovering that their fanbase is young and broke in a terrible economy, judging by tens of thousands of comments on multiple platforms. I can throw them $5/month, so I do. But the Patreon only has (checks notes) 5874 paying followers, and there’s a reason for that. $60/year upfront would not be “accessible.” Patreon is literally patronage from the people who can afford it.

If the guys had said up front, “ONLY new shows and episodes will be exclusive to the service,” I think we’d be having a different conversation right now. But at first they did say, “We’re pulling all our content from YouTube,” to the point where Variety had to issue an update. Like, that’s in print and I’m pretty sure it was on video. Now they’ve backtracked to ONLY new etc.—but most people haven’t heard, and they feel crushed. And the trust is probably gone regardless.

So now four years of back catalogue will stay public. And now, you’re paying $6.99 a month for one episode, maybe two, of something a week, and now, not an exclusive back catalogue. I would pay for Watcher shows before I’d pay for anyone else, but I just don’t think the company is big enough yet for a SVOD at that price. They’re not Dropout size. They needed to build more programming and get a higher follower count first, or at the very least, charge less.

The international price/exchange rate situation is a nightmare and I don’t know what it is they’re not doing to make it… not… be like that.

I don’t know what they should have done instead of a full streaming service, but surely there were alternatives? I’ve seen comments from people suggesting they GET a Patreon. Lean on that more! Do the shows exclusive for a month and then let them roll onto YouTube! I don’t know! Anything but One More Fucking Streaming Service, which enraged me, and I was willing to move my support to it!

And I shouldn’t say this, but I will. In the “Goodbye YouTube” video the guys posted, they say that setting up the streaming service has allowed Steven to do a remake of Worth It where he and his cohosts travel the world and eat expensive food. This is the first new show they announce. Not “We have always been committed to diversity and we’re now able to bring on new creator(s) to expand our programming.” No, a redo of an old show that by definition has got to be expensive. Commenters are saying they can’t pay for the streaming service because they can’t make ends meet in this economy. The optics are terrible. I genuinely question what the thought process even was here.

I love the guys and I still watch their shows. I want to see Watcher succeed. I started watching Buzzfeed Unsolved in 2018 while recovering from surgery—as with a lot of people, their shows got me through a tough time. I’m as attached as anyone. If I can continue to afford monthly support—this is not a certainty—I’ll give it to them. I’m not a ~hater who doesn’t want Watcher to make money. But I am absolutely BAFFLED by every single decision here. I want them to figure out how to turn this around and go in a better direction, because right now, this ain’t it.

#long post #I hope nobody hates me for this but like #this is someone supporting you #this is the best I can do #and that should tell you something #watcher

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pdriesta · 3 months ago

Text

PROLOGUE

“i want something that i know is real”

pairing — judexblack!girl

genres — fluff, slow burn, workplace romance (she’s a pt)

warnings — sexual themes (minors dni)

word count — 1.8k (for prologue)

summary — y/n, a rising physiotherapist, has just been promoted to work with real madrid's men's team. after a difficult breakup, she's determined to keep things professional. but when jude bellingham, the club's charming new star, sets his sights on her, maintaining boundaries becomes harder than ever. can she resist the pull, or will she risk everything for a love she swore she’d never fall for again?

an — so your girl is an idiot and the day before releasing the final chapter of this series, deleted her whole blog. bare with me, i have so many drafts and notes to sort through before posting everything 😭 i am so sorry to those who have to reread this series and wait for the last chapter. also, if you were apart of the taglist please comment and i’ll redo it <3

masterlist

jude bellingham walked through the pristine halls of valdebebas, real madrid’s renowned training facility, alongside carlo ancelotti. the legendary manager had insisted on personally showing him around, a gesture that wasn’t lost on jude. every step he took reminded him that he was no longer in dortmund, no longer in the familiar yellow and black. he was in madrid now, wearing the iconic white, and the reality of it was still sinking in.

as they made their way to the physio room, ancelotti spoke in his deep, reassuring voice. “we’re all very excited to have you here, jude. you’re an important part of our future,” he said, glancing at the young midfielder with a smile. “i know it can be overwhelming at first, but you’ve got a great team around you to help you settle in.”

jude nodded, trying to absorb everything. the weight of expectation, the grandeur of the club, the new language and culture—it was a lot to take in. but this was what he’d always dreamed of, and he was determined to prove himself worthy.

they turned a corner and entered a spacious room filled with sleek equipment, treatment tables, and the smell of antiseptic. the physio room—where he’d likely spend more time than he wanted over the years, keeping his body in top condition.

“this is where the magic happens,” ancelotti said with a smile. “our medical team is top-notch, and they’ll make sure you’re in the best possible shape. we take our players’ health very seriously.”

jude’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the details. his gaze landed on a young woman standing near one of the treatment tables, adjusting some equipment. she was wearing the real madrid training kit, her warm brown skin contrasting beautifully with the white and navy of the uniform. her braided hair fell just past her shoulders, each braid meticulously done, and her presence was immediately striking.

he felt his breath catch. who is she?

“and this,” ancelotti continued, drawing jude’s attention back, “is y/n. she’s one of our junior physiotherapists. i have to say, she’s quite exceptional. she started as an intern with the women’s team and did such a remarkable job that we brought her over to the men’s team.”

jude blinked, momentarily taken aback. she’s the physio? she looked around his age—young, maybe too young to be in such a prominent role. but if ancelotti was praising her, she must be something special.

ancelotti must have noticed jude’s surprise because he chuckled softly. “i know, she looks young, doesn’t she? that’s because she is. she’s your age, actually. but don’t let that fool you—she’s brilliant at what she does. the women’s team didn’t want to let her go.”

jude couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration mixed with something else, something deeper. y/n was his age and already making waves at one of the biggest clubs in the world. it was impressive, to say the least, but more than that, there was something about her that he couldn’t shake.

as jude approached, y/n looked up from her work, meeting his gaze with a warm, confident smile. her eyes were kind, but there was a spark in them that drew him in. god, she’s beautiful.

“y/n,” ancelotti said, his voice filled with a kind of paternal pride, “this is jude bellingham, our new signing. i’m sure you’ve heard a lot about him.”

y/n extended her hand, her smile widening. “of course. it’s great to finally meet you, jude. welcome to madrid.”

“thanks,” jude replied, shaking her hand. her grip was firm, her skin warm, and for a moment, he was caught off guard by the connection he felt. she’s my age, he thought again, still trying to reconcile that with her professionalism. “nice to meet you too.”

“y/n will be working closely with you to make sure you stay in peak condition,” ancelotti continued. “she’s been with the women’s team, but now she’s part of our setup here. and believe me, she knows what she’s doing.”

y/n’s heart swelled a little at the praise, but she kept her expression neutral. keep it professional, she reminded herself. jude was a world-class athlete, and while she was flattered by ancelotti’s words, she knew she had to prove herself every day. “i’m still learning, but i’m excited to be here and work with you,” she said, her voice steady.

jude nodded, still intrigued. “i can see why they wanted you on the team.”

he’s sharp, y/n thought, catching the genuine interest in his eyes. there was something about him that put her at ease, despite the high stakes of her new role. “thank you. it’s been a lot of hard work, but i’m ready for the challenge.”

as they began the tour, y/n walked beside jude, pointing out various areas of the facility. ancelotti excused himself after a few minutes, leaving the two of them to continue alone. jude noticed the way y/n moved—confidently, yet with a certain grace. it was clear she knew this place inside and out, even if she was still getting used to the men’s side of things.

“so,” jude began, glancing over at her as they walked down a corridor lined with photos of real madrid legends, “how does someone our age end up as a physio for one of the biggest clubs in the world? that’s pretty impressive.”

y/n felt a small blush creeping up her neck but managed to keep her cool. he’s trying to get to know me, she realized, her heart beating a little faster. “well, i’ve always been interested in sports medicine,” she explained. “i started studying physiotherapy in university, and i got an internship with the women’s team here at madrid. it was just supposed to be temporary, but i guess they liked what i was doing.”

jude smiled, clearly impressed. “sounds like you’re a bit of a prodigy.”

y/n laughed softly, shaking her head. “i wouldn’t go that far. i just worked hard and tried to learn as much as i could. the women’s team was incredible to work with, and i learned a lot from them. but when they offered me a spot with the men’s team, i knew it was an opportunity i couldn’t pass up.”

jude nodded, understanding the drive behind her words. “that’s really cool. i’m just getting started here myself, but it’s nice to know there’s someone else who’s new to this side of things.”

“yeah,” y/n agreed, feeling a sense of camaraderie. “i guess we’re both finding our way.”

they walked in comfortable silence for a moment, and jude found himself stealing glances at y/n. she was beautiful, no doubt about it, but there was something else—something in the way she carried herself that made him want to know more.

“so, you’re from spain?” jude asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“yeah, mostly,” y/n replied. “i was raised here, but my family’s originally from west africa—ghana, specifically. we moved here when i was a kid.”

“ghana, huh? that’s cool,” jude said, genuinely interested. “do you ever get back to visit?”

“not as often as i’d like,” y/n admitted, a hint of longing in her voice. “but we try to go back whenever we can. it’s important to stay connected to where you come from.”

“i totally get that,” jude said, feeling a connection growing between them. “i’ve always thought it’s important to stay grounded, to remember where you started.”

y/n nodded, appreciating the sentiment. he’s more thoughtful than i expected, she mused. “it’s definitely something i try to keep in mind, especially working in a place like this. it’s easy to get caught up in the glamour of it all, but i try to stay focused on why i’m here.”

as they continued the tour, jude couldn’t help but feel increasingly drawn to y/n. there was an ease between them, a natural flow to the conversation that made him forget, if only for a moment, the pressures of his new life in madrid.

“you know,” jude said, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as they reached the gym, “if you’re going to be the one keeping me in shape, i might need to get on your good side early.”

y/n raised an eyebrow, catching the flirty tone in his voice. “is that so? well, i hope you’re good at following instructions, because i’m pretty strict about my routines.”

jude chuckled, feeling a thrill at the banter. “i’ll do my best. but you know, maybe you could give me some pointers on how to stay on your good side?”

y/n laughed, shaking her head but unable to hide her amusement. he’s charming, she thought, realizing she was enjoying their interaction more than she expected. “just work hard, jude. that’s the best way to impress me.”

as they finished the tour and walked back toward the entrance, jude felt a sense of anticipation. there was no denying that y/n had made an impression on him, and he was eager to see where their paths would lead. for now, he kept things professional—aside from the occasional flirty remark—but as they exchanged a final smile, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning.

“good luck with the season, jude,” y/n said as they reached the door. “i’m looking forward to working with you.”

jude turned back, a playful smirk on his lips. “thanks, y/n. trust me, the pleasure’s all mine. something tells me this season just got a lot more interesting.”

y/n felt her cheeks warm at his words, a sudden shyness creeping in. he probably says this to all the girls, she thought, trying to brush it off. but the way he looked at her—like she was the only one in the room—made her pulse quicken.

“just don’t let me catch you falling behind,” she managed to reply, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “i’ll be watching.”

jude chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “i wouldn’t dream of it. besides, with you around, i don’t think i’ll have any trouble staying motivated.”

as he walked away, jude couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and unease. he was undeniably drawn to y/n, but he also knew they’d be working closely together all season. it could get complicated, and he wasn’t sure where the line was between professionalism and…whatever this was. but one thing was clear—he wanted to see where it might go, even if it meant walking a fine line.

as he headed toward his car, he ran a hand through his hair, still thinking about her. this could be trouble, he mused, a small smile playing on his lips. but deep down, he knew he didn’t really mind. after all, some trouble was worth getting into.

#pdriesta writes #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagines #football blurb #football imagine #football x reader #football smut #real madrid #football fanfic #jb5 #jb5 x reader #jude bellingham angst

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holymusicalmothman · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet Nothings -- OPLA!Sanji x Reader

I've only seen the Live Action, so this is new for me. I started reading the manga a few hours ago and the anime is bookmarked on my Crunchyroll. But for now, I'm working with what I've got. So this is exclusively the Live Action. Best friends to Lovers Trope cause I wanted to. I'm not entirely happy with how this turned out so I might redo it at some point.

Also, shoutout to @avidanadvocacy who managed to like and reblog this within, like, five seconds of me posting it. They're probably the only reason I sat down and wrote this lol

Warnings: vague mentions of canon typical violence, reader is very cautious of showing the fact they're rather soft (not sure if that counts as a warning or makes sense, I'm tired lol)

No use of y/n, or those weird descriptor things, reader is gender neutral. Reader is however you imagine them

Word Count: 2.5k

Masterlist

I spy with my little tired eye Tiny as a firefly A pebble that we picked up last July Down deep inside your pocket We almost forgot it Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

You had known Sanji since you were young. You had both been around twelve at the time Zeff took you in, after you had been abandoned rather unceremoniously at the Baratie. You couldn’t remember much about the pirates who had left you behind, not that it mattered to you. You were thankful, even after all the years since, that Zeff had taken you in. You weren’t a skilled cook, but you were diligent and hard working, so you worked as a head waiter.

Having grown up around Sanji, you were used to his…antics. He was a flirt to each and every female customer, but whenever you asked, he would wave you off and laugh about it being how he simply ‘gets the customers to keep coming back.’ And you’d roll your eyes and continue on with your business. He had been your best friend for years. When you had initially met, you had simply clicked and that was that. Nothing to it.

He would make you smile on your worst days and you’d do the same for him. Because that’s what friends do. Right?

The first moment you had doubted that his friendship was just that was the day he lent you his coat.

You had just stopped in the kitchen to drop off orders and take a quick breather. The lunch rush at the Baratie was merciless on a good day.

The winds had shifted earlier in the day and despite the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, a chill passed through you and you shivered.

Within moments, a navy blue suit jacket had been deposited around your shoulders.

You turned to see Sanji grinning at you.

“Wouldn’t do for our favorite waiter to catch cold now, would it?” He said before walking deeper into the kitchen.

You smiled at his retreating form, then slipped your arms into the coat properly and rolled the sleeves so that you’d be able to work.

A bit of time had passed since then, and you stopped to survey the tables around the restaurant, putting your hands into the pockets of Sanji’s jacket.

Your fingers brushed against something and you pulled it out in confusion.

A pebble sat in the palm of your hand. Just as blue as the day you had initially found it two years back.

Zeff had sent you both for supplies and you had spotted it. It was a stunning cerulean blue and you had immediately thought of your best friend. He had told you of the All Blue, and ever since that moment you had associated the color with him. Not every shade of blue, of course, but only the ones that were the most beautiful. One’s that caught the eye and seemed to shimmer.

You had almost forgotten the tiny pebble. But this jacket…Sanji’s favorite. There would be no way he’d be unaware of it being in the pocket.

You put the stone back. Your mind racing.

They said the end is coming Everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving You're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

The one thing you didn’t like about the Baratie was the fighting. You knew it was inevitable, especially with pirates. You were old enough now to look past it. It was a fact of life. Sometimes it was genuine fighting, other times customers simply got into little spats that were easier to ignore.

You sighed and wandered into the kitchen. Zeff had stepped out to smooth the wrinkles on whatever argument had broken out. To be entirely honest, the dinner shift had taken it out of you and you were exhausted.

You plopped down in a chair off to the side with another heavy sigh and shut your eyes.

The clink of dishware being set before you and a chair scraping the ground next to you brought you to open your eyes again.

A rice dish sat in front of you, a glass of water next to it. Sanji’s eyes watched you carefully.

“What is it?” You knew the Baratie menu inside and out, and this was definitely not on it.

A signature smile graced his face. “Seafood risotto. Nothing terribly fancy, just terribly good.”

“Does Zeff know about this?” You asked, taking a bite. It was divine.

Blue eyes twinkled. “What the old man doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Sanji paused, smile fading and voice growing soft. “You seem tired, sweetheart.”

You tried to squash the flutter in your chest. It had been months since you found the pebble in Sanji’s coat, and you had found out that he always carried it. Your heart had run away with that information. And while the blond had called you by the same pet name for years, it felt different now that your affections towards your best friend had shifted. You kept the information to yourself, afraid of change.

So instead you shrugged, continuing to eat. “I guess I’m a little tired? The dining room has kept me on my toes all day and I didn’t sleep very easy last night.”

Sanji’s brows furrow in concern at that. “Well, make sure you finish eating. And try and get some better sleep tonight. For me, yeah?”

You swallowed. He always looked at you so sweetly. Always treated you so differently than the girls he flirted with for good tips. Now he was giving you that small smile, blond hair in his face as always, but the softness in his eyes was unmistakable.

You nodded, “Of course, Sanji.”

Your heart was doing somersaults.

On the way home I wrote a poem You say, "What a mind" This happens all the time

Monkey D Luffy came barrelling into both your lives like a cannonball. One moment life was as it had been for years, the next finds both you and Sanji preparing to leave the Baratie and join the crew of the Going Merry

You weren’t sure why Luffy had insisted you come too. When you had asked him, he had only shrugged with a smile, saying that it had felt like the right thing to do.

So, you made yourself useful where you could. Whether it be helping Sanji, or any of the other Straw Hats.

Luffy had soon after discovered that you enjoyed writing.

It was the day before everything went wrong.

You and Sanji had left the Baratie that afternoon, Zorro was on the road to recovery from his battle against Dracule Mihawk, and everything seemed fine .

A conversation of dreams had even arisen over a meal, and you had shyly mentioned how you enjoyed writing. Not that there was time for it while waiting tables.

Sanji was surprised and intrigued to find a new side of you. You had never mentioned it to him. It was just a silly little hobby in your eyes and, in the life you led, you had always kept those simple things to yourself. Not even sharing them with your best friend.

Luffy, however, had been delighted and immediately asked if you would document the voyage.

Granted, his wording had been more along the lines of “write down our adventures”, but same thing.

Later that night, Sanji had found you on the deck, a new journal in your hand.

“A writer, eh?” He had that soft voice again.

You nodded, refusing to look at him properly. “I want to be a famous poet someday.” You whispered, inwardly afraid of making such an admission.

The years on the Baratie had led you to shove all the soft spoken emotions deep down, gentleness was not a trait most pirates were fond of. But your new captain was the exact opposite, his kindness earning your trust instantly. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that you had found a new and true friend in Luffy.

But you’d never replace Sanji.

Your heart seemed to clench and you opened your mouth to apologize for keeping it from him, but when you looked at him, your breath caught and your voice failed you.

The chef was always sweet on you, but he looked at you in that moment as if you had hung the stars.

“What a mind.” He said quietly, as if he was simply in awe of you.

Unbeknownst to you, Sanji had been looking at you like that for years. There was a reason he called you sweetheart, why you were always the first to try his new creations, why he treated you so differently than all the other girls. A reason why he was so sweet on you.

Everyone could see it. Zorro knew. Nami knew. Usopp knew. Luffy knew. The young captain had made sure to bring you both from the Baratie. If it meant he had to separate the two of you, then Luffy would have never had Sanji come aboard as Chef.

Even Zeff knew. Which was why he had let you both go.

However, you couldn’t see it.

But in that moment, with Sanji looking at you, you were ready to throw it all away. Willing to possibly ruin years of friendship if it just meant you could kiss him once.

'Cause they said the end is coming Everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving You're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from me was nothing

Nami’s betrayal had shocked you all to the core. You had only known her for such a short time, but it had still hurt.

Sanji was convinced that her alliance with Arlong wasn’t something she had chosen. Zorro seemed to only see it in black and white, positive that she had made her choice.

Luffy simply wanted to hear the truth from Nami herself. And only then would he believe it.

So the Going Merry was currently sailing for the Conomi Islands just to hear that truth.

It was once again late at night, but sleep would not come. The day’s events play over and over in your mind, keeping you wide awake.

So you headed quietly to the kitchen only to find the light on and an equally awake Sanji sitting quietly with a cup of tea, humming to himself.

You froze. You had almost kissed him the night before, fear holding you back.

But he had already seen you.

“Can’t sleep either, can you, sweetheart?”

You gave up on resisting, going to sit beside him.

Without speaking, he poured you a cup of tea, setting it before you.

“Chamomile. Should help.” Was all he said.

The day had left you both content with each other’s silence as you sat next to each other, shoulders brushing lightly. Sanji eventually went back to humming.

You couldn’t tell if it was the gentle movement of the ship as it sailed, the tea, or even Sanji himself humming softly next to you, but eventually your eyes shut.

Vaguely, you were aware of being carried and eventually set down gently in your hammock.

Something brushed your forehead and you thought you heard Sanji’s voice before you drifted fully into sleep. You felt almost certain it was a kiss, but you were too deep in the fog of sleep to deem that true. It had most likely been your imagination.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more" To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

The fight against Arlong and his pirates had once again changed everything overnight. You wouldn’t lie, it was terrifying. But you had prevailed. The Straw Hats won in the end. Nami and her village were safe.

It had brought so many things to light for you. As soon as you had all reboarded the Going Merry, you dutifully recorded the events of the day, from the villagers of Coco Village to the fight at Arlong Park, you made your way to the kitchen, needing solace from your best friend.

Your emotions had been bottled the whole day. Yes, fighting was inevitable. You were a pirate, it was simply a fact of life. But you still didn’t like it.

“Sanji?” You called.

The kitchen was empty to your surprise, so you made your way to the deck, finding him by the tangerine trees.

He had the pebble in his hand as you walked up and your heart began to race. He slipped it back into his pocket as he noticed you and you pretended not to see.

Instead you wrapped your arms around his middle, and Sanji instantly returned your hug, holding you close.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know. I think…” you trailed off.

Sanji released you from the hug, but still kept you within his arms. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nodded. “I think…I’m too soft for all this sometimes.” You admitted slowly. “I mean, I can do it, don’t get me wrong. But, Sanji, today was terrifying. And the Grand Line is supposed to be worse.”

That twinkle and smile were back again. “You’re not too soft, sweetheart. You’re perfect. You were strong today, and I know you don’t like fighting. But you’re brave, and you protect those you care about. Being soft doesn’t make you weak.”

“But what if it does?” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “Because–”

You stopped, confessions halting on your lips.

“Because what, sweetheart? Stop hiding yourself, it’s just me.”

“That’s exactly why I’m hiding.”

He frowned in confusion, silently imploring you to continue.

“Because you make me feel soft. I kept my writing to myself because somehow it always ended up being about you. Whether it be the way you look at me or even the fact you kept that pebble.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. Apparently he had genuinely thought you hadn’t noticed.

“We’re supposed to be pirates, Sanji. There’s no softness allowed in this profession.”

He gently pulled you a little closer, warm breath now able to be felt on your face as he spoke, “I think we’ve already proven we’re a different sort of pirate than what’s expected, sweetheart.”

You were drowning in an ocean of greyish blue. The little nickname. That tiny sweet nothing. It wore down any and all of the final doubts and reserves in your mind and the two of you melted into each other.

He held you tightly, arms around you as both your hands grabbed tightly to his shirt, the both of you lost in a kiss that seemed like forever.

Eventually it ended, and he rested his forehead gently against yours.

“I’m in love with you, sweetheart.” He said gently. “How’s that for being soft, hmm?”

A small smile formed upon your face. The both of you had been oblivious to the other, yes. But at the same time, all of Sanji’s little sweet nothings over the years–both in words and actions–played quickly through your head. The past week had pulled everything straight to the surface.

“I love you, too.”

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothings.

Not entirely happy with this but it's late. Let me know what you think. I'm still new to this fandom, and there's a lot of content that I've yet to learn about. But I'll get there.

#sanji x reader #opla sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #one piece live action #one piece x reader #one piece live action x reader #thismothwrites

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ikigaisvt · 11 months ago

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sleepy

in which your boyfriend comforts you after a restless night.

pairing: joshua x gn!reader words count: 1.6k content: comfort, fluff warnings: talk of insomnia, eating, talk of drinking, petnames (for reader: babe, baby, sweeheart / for joshua: josh, love), skinship (cuddles, kisses) note: hi!! the joshua brainrot has been hitting hard lately; im kinda in love,, thank you so much @goblinvern for proof reading this for me 🫶 you're the absolute best! minors are allowed to interact with this post but please don't follow or i'll hard block you. enjoy and don't forget to leave a like/comment/reblog! note 2.0: i wasn't planning on posting this fic before the new year, but since i had it sitting in the drafts and it's joshua's day, i thought it'd be a good timing to post it now~ i hope everyone will have a good 2024 and happy birthday to shua!! 🫶

You were pretty sure if people would have to describe you, they’d use that word: admirative. You were one to always be left in awe at people’s talents, whether it be singing, drawing, dancing or truly anything else. Even though you were creative yourself, you’d always be admirative of what people could create out of their minds only. But if you had to say the one skill that would leave you speechless, as it is not one you possess, it’s being able to function with little to no sleep.

Okay, let’s redo this. If you’re being truthful, people would more likely describe you as sleepy. You were someone who always loved sleeping; however, sleep did not like you. You were never like one of those people who could sleep anywhere and through anything, you were rather on the more sensitive side when it came to sleeping. Over the years, you had put together a very strict routine you had to follow every night to ensure a restful sleep. But oh, if you had the bad idea or the bad luck to skip or miss a step? You’d end up falling asleep at 1 am and waking up at 5 am. And that’s exactly what happened yesterday night. Now, you’re used to this so surely you would know how to handle your own state and have the most productive day despite your tiredness. However, because the world never gives enough hardships to one, you were sometimes faced with a special kind of tiredness. A tiredness that would make you stick to anyone’s side. A tiredness that would make you hug a person and never let go. And when that happened, well, no amount of self-knowledge could make you change for the day. But maybe you have something to thank the world for: it gave the loveliest and gentlest boyfriend ever. And he loves cuddles.

10 am – 5 hours since I’ve been awake. He should be awake pretty soon; you think to yourself. Here you were, perched on the kitchen stool, an empty bowl of cereal in front of you, waiting for your boyfriend to wake up so you could cuddle. When you first woke up, you had hoped you would fall back asleep immediately, even though that rarely happened for you, so you didn’t even think of cuddling. But when you realized you would not fall asleep, you decide to get up and go about your day, already looking forward to your afternoon’s nap. All you did was settle down on your couch and put on your favorite show – The Vampire Diaries and around 9am, when hungriness settled down in the pit of your stomach, you got up and made yourself a bowl of cereal. You don’t know what triggered your need to hug your boyfriend – maybe the chill air that settled in your apartment as winter is coming closer or maybe the fact that you haven’t seen him a lot lately, but all you have been thinking about since then was him. Him and his arms enveloping you. Him and his scent making your head spin. Him and his fingers playing with your hair. Him, him, him. Now, you could have woken him up but knowing he came back home around 2 am – as he was out drinking with Jeonghan – you didn’t find it in you to ruin his sleep.

“10:30 am – he really should be awake by now,” you say out loud before you hear the water running in your bathroom. You slowly lean and peek at your hallway only to see Joshua walk down towards you – more like, towards the kitchen, his hair sticking out in weird angles while he rubs the sleep away from his eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he calls out to you once he gets closer, “Since when have you been awake?” he asks, worries written all over his face. He knows how much you struggle with sleeping.

“I woke up around 5,” you mumble as he starts making himself a cup of coffee. At your words he turns around to look at you, gives up on his coffee and comes around the kitchen bar.

“Oh babe,” he says, his hands reaching for your face, cupping your cheeks gently, “Is it because of me? Did I wake you up?” he questions, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

“No, you’re fine. You know how it gets for me sometimes,” you reassure him, your hands holding on his wrists.

“Okay, okay,” he says, “What can I do? Do you want to stay in bed while I clean around? Today is cleaning day, right?” he asks, trying to come up with a way to make today easier for you.

“Well, cleaning day is reported to tomorrow,” you chuckle, lighting up the situation, “but there’s something I’d really like,” you mumble, trying to work up the courage to ask him for cuddles.

“Yes, tell me. Anything for you,” he nods, his hands now resting on your neck, his fingers playing with the little hair at the back of your head.

“You promise you won’t make fun of me?” you ask him, holding out your hand in a pinky promise.

“Of course. I promise I won’t make fun of you,” he states, as he meets your hand in the same promise, a glint of mischievousness appearing in his eyes, “You want cuddles, don’t you?” he asks in a smile.

“How did you know?” you gasp, not knowing what could have given you up. But truly, Joshua knew as soon as he looked at you. He couldn’t pin point what gave you away either but he’s sure it’s there somewhere, in your shiny eyes, in your slight pout or maybe it’s the way your body is leaning into his, faster, closer, than usual.

“You always ask me to not make fun of you before asking for cuddles,” he chuckles, trying to come up with an answer without giving away how much he loves you, “and I always tell you I will not. Never.” He says, planting a kiss on your forehead, “Especially not when you’re being so open with what you need. You know I’ll always try to provide whatever you need for you.” Okay, he thinks to himself, maybe I did give myself away with that one.

“Thank you, Josh,” you murmur, your hands finding his shirt, as you pull him towards you so he can stand between your legs, “Just like this. For a few seconds.” You tell him, your voice even quieter as you bury yourself in his chest. You feel his arms reach behind you, rubbing your head and your back in slow motion, bringing you the comfort you were wishing for. Your body slowly relaxes, your hands untighten against his shirt and your breath becomes slower, little sighs leaving you as you realize that this is feeling rested. This is what love feels like. This is what home feels like.

“Feels good?” he whispers, his hand now drawing circles on your back, your response coming in the form of a nod, “You want to move to the couch?” he asks as you mumble yes against his shirt, slowly leaving his embrace. You look up at him, your eyes meeting as he reaches for your face, slowly coming closer to your lips. Just as you close your eyes and your lips are about to meet, he whispers something about the couch and suddenly you’re hoisted up in the air, his arms around you.

“There we go, baby,” he says as he kisses your forehead, blush creeping on your cheeks at how much he’s covering you with love, “Hold on tight,” he whispers, your arms finding rest on his shoulders as he holds you closer to his chest.

He slowly makes his way to the couch, the slight movement of his steps almost lulling you to sleep, to that state you always struggle to find on your own. And yet with him, it’s so easy. So easy you find yourself sleepier than before, as Joshua sets you down on the couch, his arms open to allow you the rest you deeply deserve. Your cheek is pressed against his chest, his heart like a lullaby to you while he strokes your hair out of your face.

“You’re good now?” he whispers as he plants another kiss on your head.

“Hm, yeah. Thank you, love,” you whisper, already feeling sleepier than a few minutes ago as he strokes your back.

“Please, don’t thank me,” he starts, “always come find me when you can’t sleep, okay? Call me and I’ll come running. Tell me and I’ll drop everything. Wake me up whenever and I will give every ounce of sleep to you.” he says, your eyes looking up at him, “You need to promise me, okay?” he asks, his hand already out in a pinky promise.

“I swear,” you answer, your hand locking his into a promise. You take a hold of his hand quick enough, playing with his fingers before you start leaving kisses on his open palm, his knuckles, the tip of his fingers, “I love you.” you whisper as you let his hand down, your fingers still intertwined.

“I know,” he says quietly, his eyes filled with something you can’t describe. Perhaps it is love. “I love you too. So much.” He tells you, sealing his love with a kiss on your hand as your eyes feel heavier than before, sleep and warmth slowly invading your body.

It’s when you feel your body getting heavier, Joshua’s heart beats fading in the background as his hand never stop rubbing your back that you realize you should have added cuddles with Joshua as a crucial part of your night routine. No matter how many tips you will try to sleep better – earplugs, sleeping masks, white noise music, nothing will ever compare to Joshua and the comfort, rest and love he brings you. And maybe after a few years, you’ll be able to only have one step in your night routine.

thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it 🫶

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen reactions #seventeen fluff #seventeen comfort #svt #joshua #joshua fluff #joshua x reader #joshua imagines #joshua scenarios #joshua comfort #joshua hong #sammy's works

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quibbs126 · 9 months ago

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Oh yeah I been drawing these the past couple days. It’s mostly just random sketches

I don’t really know what I was doing with the line colors, but whatevs, it’s fine

First was the Dark Choco one, it was because I was thinking of the Nimona shark dance scene. I didn’t draw the shoulder pads because I didn’t want to

I think I wanted to draw one of the twin dragons with him, but since we don’t yet know what hey look like, I couldn’t

Then the Financier and Madeleine thing was just based on a headcanon I had about their relationship in the past. Basically my idea is that Financier was something of a mentor to Madeleine back in their academy days, with her being a couple years older than him. It’s also partially why in current day she’s not the fondest of him; not because she dislikes him, but because she’s frustrated he doesn’t live up to the full potential she knows he has. They’re supposed to be doing the Spider-Man pose meme

I had ideas for what to do for their hair, but nothing about their outfits. I just did whatever

After that I kind of ran out of ideas to draw. I asked someone on Discord and they told me to draw Parfait, so I drew her jamming out to rock on the floor. I had no references but I think it turned out fine

Then after that I decided to draw younger Carrow and Crunchy

Carrow was first, and it was like a redo of this old design I did of her old self back when I just got into the fandom

She’s supposed to be just starting out in the Watchers or training with them, around 12-14

Then after that I was going to draw small Crunchy Chip, but because I headcanon him to now be the oldest between this trio, I felt I had to draw him older to convey that, with him being around 18-20 here (at the time Carrow is 12-14). Honestly his design isn’t that good, Caramel Arrow’s is way better. I just didn’t really know what to do for it other than give him longer hair and maybe make him look moody? But yeah other than that he didn’t turn out that great

And after that I realized I had basically used the whole page, so might as well post

I might do more of these, who knows?

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #dark choco cookie #financier cookie #madeleine cookie #parfait cookie #caramel arrow cookie #crunchy chip cookie #headcanon #my art

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smallraindrops-blog · 2 months ago

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Sacred Ingredients

Zagreus/Male!reader

Fandom: Hades (2019 game)

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: There was a new cook in the house

warnings: Implied reader death, no beta.

Notes:

The fic that is the reason yall have been seeing so many food posts lately.

This is the first response for the wholesome Zagreus x male reader request. I took my time with this since I wasn’t sure if I was following the prompt.

To the anon, thanks for the wait. If this isn’t what you wanted, please lmk and I will be happy to redo it. I do hope you enjoy this one.

Important: often people would use other names for the gods to avoid bringing unnecessary attention to themselves. Our reader is one of those people.

Enjoy!

One of your first memories was of your Mom holding a small bit of cake between her fingers.

It was made of thin layers of dough, heavy with sheep cheese, crushed nuts and honey, so heavy with it that the dipping honey caught the sunlight just before you bit in.

Sweet. Creamy. Nutty. All combining together in your mouth as you chew.

You groaned in pure delight as she laughed, getting you a plate with a much bigger piece. See? I told you that you would like it. Mama is never wrong. Not with food.

Just like that, food had became your life. To you, there was no better way to say ‘I love you’ than by cooking someone a good meal.

You learned how to perfectly roast fishes, how to stuffed chicken, the right moment to add herbs or how to use olive oils or butter to add rich flavors to the dish. You learned how to knead the bread, how to time the rise just right and the best spots in the stone ovens to place the loaf.

Food was everything. It was the bittersweet memory of your mama’s hand on your cheek after a sickness took her far too soon, it was a way to feed your family while working hard as a fisherman, it was a way to earn your place among warriors and kings.

You loved all of it, even as the other men had scoffed at you for enjoying women’ work. However they never turned away a meal you cooked, at home or in the war tents.

The very last thing you cooked, a recipe your mama taught you, was a simple bread, meant for dipping in wine.

Barley flour. Dry yeast from the grapes. Then you added the simple spice mix you came up with and always added in. The one that had people waiting outside for your bakery before the markets opened.

Parsley. Rosemary. Oregano. Garlic cloves smashed up and added into the bread, and just a little dash of salt.

You had set one aside for yourself for later.

You never got to eat it.

When the news came that the terrifying god of the underworld was looking for a new cook, you didn’t hesitate.

To get a spot in the house of the gods was prime time. It meant respect, a place to live and most importantly it meant regular income. That was money you can send to your mama and sisters so they can get into a better area of Asphodel.

You had spent hours over the cake.

You made sure that each layer of the dough was perfect, thin and flakey with a satisfying bite, that the cheese was the perfect amount of tangy creaminess, that nuts were crushed to the right size, that the honey was placed in the perfect spot to complement the cheese and nuts.

This had to work because your family worked hard to get the coin to order such things from the expensive shop of the boatman.

Even the neighbors had pitched in, with the promise that you will pay them back.

You took a nervous breath as you shifted on your feet, winced as the terrifying King of Below tossed aside the meal someone brought him, promptly dismissing them.

“And another one bites the dust.” The sleep god muttered as he crossed something off a list.

He looked up, blinking heavy downturned eyes at them. You and the other commoners were careful to keep their gazes low, not willing to show any disrespect to any of the gods.

The gentle one huffed and gestured for the one before you to go ahead. You were up after this, assuming that the person before you didn’t have something amazing.

The underworld King made a loud gagging sound and wordlessly dismissed the shade. Gentle one only clicked his tongue as he crossed out another line and shook his head, white curls flopping around.

“Good luck, buddy.” He told you with a cheerful grin, using his quill to point to the desk.

Did the gods normally call people buddy?

With a deep breath, you went to the looming desk, feeling like you were meeting the fates themselves.

“And what is this?” The King of those below growled, his haunting eyes locked onto you like a predatory bird. His hellhound shifted next to him, their three noses twitching at the food.

“This is a plakous, my lord.” You said, proud that your voice was stronger than you expected. “Made with wheat dough, rich honey-“

The King held up a large hand and you stopped speaking, fearing you had already lost your chance. A shade took the plate from you and brought it to their master.

You held your breath as he took the first bite, your heart no longer beat but you swore you felt it in that moment, slamming against your chest. He chewed slowly and his bloody red eyes slowly went wide.

A hush fell over the grand hall.

Then the King did something he didn’t do with any other meal, he went back for a second bite.

After that bite, he peered down at you for a long, long time.

“Is this all you can cook?” His voice broke over you like thunder. You shook your head, your hands curled up nervously

“No, my lord. I have created meals for kings and I can cook many things. Meat of all kinds. And bread, vegetables and so on.” You wished you were a more eloquent man, but that had never been needed before.

Not to mention such an education was beyond your reach.

And your food alway did the talking for you.

The king took a third bite then tossed the rest to the hellhound, the animal eating in a single swipe of its tongue. The tail wagged once, thumping on the floor.

The Wealthy One nodded slowly. “You may start today.”

The kitchen size alone would have made your mama weep with joy. The amount of fresh produce, herbs and clean grains along with plenty of meat made your jaw drop.

You clapped your hand together in thought then…You hit the ground running.

There was an endless list of tasks to be done before the kitchen would be ready to open and you went through all the tasks with horse blinders on, determination fueling you.

The first meal you officially served Master was a few of salted and peppered trout with a garlic lemon sauce with butter and herbs along with a hearty lentils soup, warm sourdough bread for the soup and sauce.

You added a fresh cucumber salad along with a large plate filled with cheeses and fruits that would compliment the fish.

When the plates came back, clean of even a drop of sauce, you felt something loosen in your chest.

Eventually you began to learn the house's routine and the many shades. You learned to always have some type of bread readied with olive oil.

You learned what went fast and what you had to jazz up to get rid of.

The most important lesson you had learned in life and one that remained unchanged even now was that most souls just wanted something that tasted like home.

It was toward the end of the kitchen hours when you heard someone take a seat.

Even at this late hour and working alone, you weren’t one to turn away a hungry soul so after wiping your hands on your apron, you turned with a smile.

“Welcome! What can I…” your words trailed off, your eyes going wide as you realized who was sitting in one of the barstools.

The Prince of the underworld gave you an exhausted, crooked grin. There was a curious gleam in those mismatched eyes, the strong lines of his cheeks softened by the dim lights of the lounge.

He was inhumanly beautiful in the ways all divine beings were.

But there was something different to his handsomeness.

Unlike the soft loveliness of Sleep, the sleek grace of the Fury or the dark shocking beauty of Night herself, this god before looked almost moral like. It was his eyes that revealed his godhood. It was the power in his broad shoulders.

You were surprised by how much you liked it.

“So you are the new cook everyone is raving about.” The Prince said, leaning on his forearms to peer at you. You saw the strength in his arms, his quick grace as he moved. Strong and muscular with thick tendons upward from the knuckles.

It was clear this god was a warrior of a sort.

Your eyes flickered down in embarrassment when you realized you were being disrespectful in your staring.

“I believe so, your highness.” You said, bowing your head in a show of respect for his position. “How may I serve you?”

“Honestly?” The Prince leaned, scanning the area behind you. “Whatever you have will work. The last cook we had working here would just give us sliced onions if we came in this late. Once he gave Hypnos a single apple peel for daring to ask for something else.”

He sounded amused, chuckling to himself at the memory. It was a nice laugh, deep and rich.

You couldn’t imagine being so rude to the gods. Your mom was a pious woman and even a quiet sigh during prayers would get you a disapproving look.

With a nod, you went to get the Prince his meal and drink.

Thankfully you had a leftover trout and tossed one onto the grill to cook as you prepared a bowl of cabbage for him, added in spices along with honey vinegar and silphium.

You had some bread and garlic cheese so you plated those as well with olives and grapes.

You decided to give him a rich red that most enjoyed, filling it up to the brim.

“Oh wow.” The prince muttered as you set everything in front of him and with a bow, you rushed back to the fish, flipping it over. Once it was ready with some garlic butter sauce, you brought it to him.

“Please let me know if you would like for me to serve you more or cook something else for you.” You told him and the prince blinked at you, his mouth filled with bread and cheese.

The prince waved a hand before you left him for his meal. He drank the wine deeply before placing it back down. You immediately refilled it. “This is plenty, my good shade. Thank you.”

With a respectful nod, you resumed cleaning up the kitchen. Counters got wiped down, supplies restocked but it wasn’t the usual relaxing routine it normally was.

You felt the weight of those divine eyes on you. The Prince was quiet as he ate but you caught quick glimpses of his curious gaze on the shine of the plates, or reflection in your knives.

It was only when the Prince left that you let yourself breathe.

Master liked large meals but only if they could be eaten quickly. The only thing you had been warned never to add was pomegranates. No one would tell you why.

The Gorgon, the creature was surprisingly sweet for all the horrible tales you heard of her kind, ate in a rush as well.

If you were smarter, maybe you could have made a clever joke about how the lowest server and the King of the Underworld ate the same way.

But one look into her smiling face held your tongue. She was always kind so you would be so in return.

The Fury was a regular companion of hers, requesting simple meals of fish and some types of roasted vegetables. Mostly she would drink deeply, often you would have a pitcher of wine put aside for her.

Sometimes Dreaded Death would join her, unwelcoming to all and cool. He rarely ordered any food, his fingers drumming on the table sounded like funeral marches to your ears.

His twin was the complete opposite, Gentle Sleep had a sweet tooth unlike anything else you have seen. Often he would ignore the dinner option altogether and eat slices of cake, candied figs or honeycombs.

If you weren’t careful around the god, plates of cookies that were meant for the whole house would go missing around him.

You still haven’t found the last two plates he stole from you.

And...

There was The Prince himself.

He was a regular now, always sitting close to wherever your work station was that day. He also was the only one who ate anything you put on a plate for him, and would shove the meal into his mouth like a starving creature. You always made sure to give him larger servings.

“Tell me your name.” He ordered you one day. His tone was deep, firm. Making it clear he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “You keep feeding me delicious food, no matter the hour. And I don't know what to call you.”

Then he added with raised eyebrows, sounding more like a playful suitor than a Chthonic god. “Please?”

You considered it, your hands still on the bowl of the hardy stew just placed before the god. You stared at the stew for a moment, then at him.

Or just past him, not willing to meet the god’s eyes, life and death danced in those unusual eyes of his.

You were a moral, a simple one at that.

You never picked up a sword, never learned all the fancy learnings that a prince might, never learned much beyond what you needed to but you knew names had powers, could decide whole destinies before a babe even wailed out their first cry.

Names could summon the gods themselves.

Quietly, you told him.

The prince grinned at you, his smile fierce and beautiful like a victorious lion. Your breath hitched, forgetting that one was to never look the gods in the eye.

Then the next words he spoke early jumped started your heart into beating once more.

“It suits you, my good cook. Call me Zagreus.”

Later, alone in the kitchen, recipes laid in front of you, you tried to will yourself to focus.

Schooling was too costly for your family especially after your Mother’s death. Your reading went far as basic words and numbers, just enough to get by in the markets.

You never needed much.

Right now, however, the recipes might as well be another language.

You were too lost in thought, several times you had already caught yourself even daring to think The Prince’s name in your mind.

What would happen if you dare to…

Zagreus.

A soft noise came behind you and You whirled around, glancing everywhere as if expecting him to appear right behind you.

He didn’t.

You realized you heard the sounds of the Wretched Broker restocking his shelves. Thankfully, he was too busy to realize that the House’s cook had gone mad simply by learning a God’s name.

Maybe you should start wearing a pot on your head.

“Zagreus.” You whispered, fingernails digging your palm nervously. “Zagreus.”

When the god didn’t appear, you didn’t know if you were disappointed or relieved.

Slowly, you learned more.

There were the loud fights between Father and Son that would cause the house to rattle. Many shades would escape into the lounge, hands over their ears.

”Tell me, do you get along with your father?” Zagreus grumbled, his plate cleared of any crumbs. His legs were bouncing, filled with an endless energy you knew you would never be able to match.

“No.” You said, not wanting to think of that man. You knew he was somewhere in the underworld but the less you knew, the better. “I suspect few do.”

Once, over a glass of white wine and a simple meal of sourdough bread and warm vegetable soup, He told you was looking for his mother.

“You will find her. I know you will.” You told him quietly, holding his stare. “Have faith, Zagreus.”

Another time, over a cake from a new recipe you came up with, Zagreus asked about you. Maybe it was the exhaustion after a successful dinner rush but you told him everything.

His smile was warm, his eyes watchful of your every move as you told him of your family and their new place you brought for them.

Your cheeks flushed when you realized he was staring at you.

“I will have to stop by then.” He teased, his hand almost brushing against yours.

“Yes.” You agreed in a whisper, your mouth suddenly dry.

“Cook me your favorite meal.” Zagreus ordered one day, not even bothering to sit down. You lifted a cool eyebrow, well used to his impulsiveness by now.

“Hello, Zagreus.” You greeted dryly, wiping your hands on your apron, not actually that upset.

Not too long ago, you would have wilted from the thought of being so playful with a divine creature but things changed.

Zagreus brought it out of you somehow simply by being himself.

“I am doing well, thank you.” You continued to teased despite his oddly serious expression.

Zagreus blinked, then chuckled with a bright grin. “I am a horrible influence on you, I fear.”

You laughed, cheeks flushing at his smile. “I am afraid so, your Highness. Now what is this about a favorite meal?”

“Yours. I want to know what your favorite food is.”

“Oh.” You grabbed an apple, rolling it in your hands for something to do. Butterflies dancing in your stomach as Zagreus leaned in, his hands on the counter. This close, you caught the scent of copper.

unwillingly, your gaze tangled with his, caught like a fly in a complex web. A stray thought reached you, could a mere fly understand the geometric structure, beauty of such things?

You swallowed nervously. “It’s nothing special, Zagreus. Just something my mom cooked up for me.”

Zagreus narrowed his eyes, his jaw firm in his resolve. “Excellent, then. I trust you have all the ingredients you need?”

You nodded but opened your mouth to dissuade the prince from his idea, however he was already walking away, “I expect a meal to be waiting for me when I get back!”

One day, staring at a wooden spoon in your hand, cake batter dipping from the tip, you realized that Zagreus had became someone very, very dear to you.

Morals and gods didn't mix together well. At least, not for the morals. Cracked eggs and spilled milk and all left would be a big mess with no one to clean it.

What did it mean when a shade, a mere ghost of who you were, was in love with a god that shone like the sun, whose very presence made you felt like you were alive once more?

When Zagreus returned, his hair was still damp from the Styx river and you had to look away from his beauty.

Quietly, you put the final touches on your favorite meal. You swallowed nervously as you picked up the plate and went over to him.

Thin layers of dough. Creamy cheese. Crushed nuts. Honey.

A long ago memory of your mom's smiling face as she watched you take a bite. Sunlight made her golden and immortal in that singular moment in your very heart.

You offered it up like the cake was a sacrifice, like you were offering yourself up to the god to make the final decision of the worth of your mortal soul.

“This is the first thing I can remember my mom making for me.” You whispered, your work rough fingers curled nervously against the counter. “This meal is what got me a job here. I got to know you because of this cake.”

Zagreus took a small bite, then closed his eyes in bliss. He said your name with a weight that you never heard before.

When he looked at you, his expression gentle and hopelessly fond, there was no need for more words.

When he kissed you for the first time, he tasted like home.

#x male reader #x male y/n #hades zagreus

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sofs16 · 1 year ago

Text

us first

thank you for this request:)))

++ added hate to reader because ………..

(after writing this i realized it’s kinda angsty oops im sorry lmk if u want me to redo this 😓)

with busy days apart and the media digging into you, sometimes there were more downs than ups in a week. charles had been off racing and being a singer, it isn’t easy to always attend.

there was a particular struggle for a while at the passionate tifosi who worshipped charles. of course you understood them, but it got to a point your faith in whether you were good enough for charles was wavering.

charles was amazing on and off camera and track. he made sure to take the relationship at a pace well for both of you. he always defended you against such comments even when he wasn’t asked to, often his pr team even scolded him for being too aggressive.

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, and 6,799,696 others

yn nd that’s the end of our life support tour 🥹🫀🌠 thank you for being lovely, monaco!

view all 273,697 comments

sharl55 🤮🤮🤮 Horrible wag. You never show up at races and are never there for Charles. He deserves better.

⤷ charles_leclerc Please stop commenting horrible things about Yn. She does support me and likewise, I support her music. I don’t deserve her.

⤷ yn i love you charlie 😭

it’s nights like these where you and charles get to see each other not through face time. your schedules aligned finally when you got to spend nights under the same comforter.

with the monaco gp this week, and the tour ending today, these were nights where you and charles stayed in.

you bought face masks and food on your way home while charles bought some wine and ingredients for baking and cooking.

you set your keys down on the table when you made it into yours and charles’ shared apartment.

“baby?” you heard from the kitchen “hey charlie” you slipped behind him and kissed his neck as he smiled, shaking his head. “you’re late” he scolded lightly.

“i know, i know! but- i was deciding if we were goijg for strawberry or cucumber face masks” you held the bag up. “you got both, didn’t you” he raised a brow “..yeah” you laughed and made a beeline to the bedroom “‘m gonna change and we can start!” “take your time!” he replied

you giggled, changing into charles’ pajamas since they were always so comfortable. you ran to the kitchen and helped charles in making the ravioli you both wanted

“that comment was so infuriating like- did you see that? the one under your post today?” he asked, stirring the pasta in the pot while you hopped on the counter top, something he always scolded you for.

“yeah… it’s okay. you didn’t have to reply but i appreciate it” you looked at your slippers as you swung them around. he sighed and walked over to you, holding your chin lightly.

“do not listen to them, okay mon amour?” he looks into your eyes “mhm” you smile, getting lost in them.

“besides…” he walks back to the pasta “they are not the ones who get to taste my amazing pasta” he holds it up proudly and you laugh, shaking your head as he puts it in your plates.

you go to the bedroom and move the blankets over to the living room as you light the candles and turn the television on. charles sets the plates on the table and you sit on the couch, waiting for him already holding your plate.

he comes back with two glasses of wine and you put on harry potter on the tv but it’s playing at a volume less than 10.

you both face each other and laugh, talking about random things going on. he talks about his nerves for the gp, especially that it’s his hometown, but he’s glad you’re coming because you haven’t been able to go to the last 4 races. charles brought ninetnedos and you both raced each other at some point.

you both eventually fall asleep on top of one another on the couch.

charles.jpg

liked by pierregasly, and 73 others

charles.jpg i love my girlfriend

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carlossainz55 sending this to yn

⤷ charles.jpg No! This is so I can obsess over her quietly.

liked by charles_leclerc, and 11,191,201 others

yn a weekend well spent with myyyy loveeee 💌

view all 2,696,606 comments

charles_leclerc That last video was not necessary😊

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, and 10,579,708 others

charles_leclerc Ma belle! My talented and beautiful girlfriend 😘

view all 1,282,696 comments

charles_leclerc Send her hate and I will send you 10000 photos of her and you will love her and you will stop.

yn my scrumptious, handsome, cutesey, fatherly, talented, fast, racer, amazing, cool, chill bf who helped me fulfill my grumpy x sunshine trope dream. loveu

⤷ charles_leclerc So much to unravel but I am NOT grumpy. ⤷ landonorris yes you are

ynchar YN AT THE PADDOCK. WE WON!

liked by charles_leclerc, and 20,282,585 others yn bet that person who called me a bad wag has never attended a gp like me 😉

view all 4,383,595 comments

charles_leclerc You should talk like this more.

⤷ yn anyone comes for my man I WILL FIGHT. I CAN FIGHT.

stcharles I love how Charles comments in every post of yn 🥹 ynsbabe petty yn is so iconic😭😭😭😭

0ferrari0_ love my queen

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc 16 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot

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cheolhub · 1 year ago

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IM STUPID i thought you meant we can send in a max of three number and member pairings for you to choose from for ur milestone event 🧍‍♀️pls ignore my first ask (ONLY IF U HAVENT GOTTEN TO IT YET AJDJSK)

can i have “Could he make you feel as good as i do?” + “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” For gyugyu 🥺 i still haven't recovered from the oneshot you posted yesterday 🧍‍♀️

FWB!MINGYU

prompt. “could he make you feel as good as i do?” + “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

wc. 915

warnings. fwb!gyu, fem!reader, mirror sex, jealousy, possessiveness, gyu is a bit rough, dirty talk, pet names, cumshot, tears, kinda angsty? — MINORS DNI 18+

note. god u sent this the first week of march for my THREE KAY event… now im at 4k, and i am so sorry 🤣 anyway this wasn’t proofread and it’s literally a mess, but i hope u like it anyway ;-; thank u sm for requesting (even if it did take me 8 years to get to haha)

“would you look at that?” mingyu laughs against your ear. “might wanna redo your makeup once i’m done, baby, you’ve cried it all off.”

he’s not wrong. when you open your eyes and take in the sight in front of you and nearly choke on a sob. you’re a mess– smeared eyeliner, mascara staining your cheeks and lipstick smudged around your mouth– no longer ready for your date. the one that starts 15 minutes from now.

when you’d told mingyu– a friend who you occasionally frequently fuck– you were ready to start dating again, he thought you were bluffing. how could you want to date anyone else when he was right in front of you? you and him are practically dating– you go out and do couple-y things then you go back to one of your places and you fuck– you just lack the label.

and that’s because both of you needed something sexual, but neither of you were ready for a relationship.

now that you are– now that you’re going on a date with some fucker who probably doesn’t even deserve you– he’s upset. beyond upset, actually. he’s livid.

that’s why he bent you over your bathroom’s vanity, pushed your dress up and makeup products to the ground and thought to prove himself to you.

now his hand tugs at your hair, essentially forcing you to stare at yourself while he reduces you to a mess like he does every time his cock is inside of you.

“mmh, could he make you feel as good as i do, huh? you think he knows how to make this pretty pussy feel good?” the question comes through gritted teeth and it finally clicks in your dumb little brain. “i don’t fucking think so.”

“y-you’re jealous?” you’re able to ask, though it’s choked. his reply never comes, but his thrusts get harsher– merciless– and you take it as a wordless admission, crying out your next words, “me ‘n you are jus’ friends, g-gyu!”

he tugs at your hair harder and the other hand that resides on your waist squeezes your skin gratingly. “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” he replies, voice hushed and raw with emotion.

you do. you know it. you and mingyu are glued at the hip both figuratively and literally. there’s no one on the earth that makes you feel a quarter of what you feel for him. and you also know there isn’t a single man who could fuck you as well as mingyu does.

but when you told him you wanted to start dating, he brushed you off with a “yeah, right,” and it made you believe that there wasn’t a chance with him. you figured that the idea of you and mingyu being together was simply a dream that would never happen.

though, you’re not so sure anymore because he’s spewing out possessive words faster than you can comprehend while his cock stirs you up.

what you didn’t know was that you’ve always had mingyu in the palm of your hand. he was whipped. wrapped around your finger. he doesn’t want to share you– he never has.

“he’s never gonna make you feel this good,” he confidently states. “you’re made for me.”

“fuck!” you cry, tightening around his cock at the affirmation. “mingyu, please!”

“that’s it, pretty, say my fuckin’ name.” he moans, sloppily thrusting into you as his mind runs away from him. “look at me and tell me how much you like it.”

your eyes nearly cross as they try to find him in the mirror, but when they land on his, you feel yourself grow even hotter. “love it. i love it, gyu.”

he smiles triumphantly like he’s won the lottery. he’s sure that this is better, though. you? admitting to the fact that you love the way he fucks you? fucking priceless.

“yeah? you love my cock?” he asks, cockily, yet he knows the answer.

you give him a broken nod, “so much!”

“why don’t you cum for me, baby. cum all over this cock ‘n show me how much you love it.” he coaxes breathily, continuing to fuck you into oblivion.

you can’t stop yourself as soon as you hear his request. the tight coil in the pit of your tummy comes undone as you sob out his name. you trap his twitching cock between his spasming cunt all the while he fucks you through your blinding orgasm. every second feels more euphoric than the last, more tears running down your face at the pleasure.

mingyu isn’t far behind you with the way you grip him so heavenly. he’s quickly pulling out, the hand in your hair coming to wrap around his cock. you whine at the loss of his warmth, but you’re pleasantly surprised when you hear the lewd noise of his hand vigorously pumping himself and the sounds of his pretty groans.

he lets out a string of curses, hand moving quicker before his body jerks and his ribbons of his cum spurt out. some of it lands on your bare ass, but the majority ends up on your date outfit. he can’t help but smile at the fact that he’s ruined your pretty outfit. one meant for someone who isn’t him.

“actually, i think you should cancel your date.” he pants. “ be sure to tell him that you’re taken now.”

he watches the way you nod and he can’t help but feel proud of himself. you’re his and he’s yours.

#mingyu smut #svt smut #3k milestone #[💌: cryoculus]#★︎ — kai !

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justabiteofspite · 2 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

Was tagged throughout the past few weeks by @inkymoonbunny, @xxnashiraxx, @preciouslittlebhaalbae, and @verbenaa, so here's a hefty piece of lonely reflective Ascended Astarion angst since I didn't post anything last week.

Just for context, this is a Bad Ending AU set years after the brain where my Durge, Henri left A!A before being turned into a spawn, going off by herself to become a famous bard and has only just now returned to perform at Astarion's engagement party to an important elven figure as part of his political strategy. So this is him reflecting back on their relationship before talking to her for the first time in a long time.

When was the last time he had bedded her? They had been taking a break from the activity because his former self couldn’t handle it, the weakling. Astarion couldn’t help but wonder if that was a reason she ended up leaving after all. Even with his power he couldn’t fix himself fast enough. If she had let him bed her the night after he ascended, surely he could have gotten her to stay. Fix the times before that where he’d been out to use her and she had seen right through it. “It wasn’t difficult, you know, to see that whatever it was that you wanted out of this, it wasn’t me. Well, more than what I could provide. And you were clear that these nights together were just us having fun, nothing serious. I liked you beyond that but I didn’t know how quickly these urges were going to escalate. So why not go along with it and pretend? I get to experience a bit of life I’m not going to get to otherwise. And you’d move on to some pretty elf after we get to Baldur’s Gate where you have more options. I wouldn’t be leaving someone behind hurting after I needed to be...put down.” “Well, you’re not getting put down like some sick dog, for one, so let’s agree on that first,” Astarion snapped, feeling like he was going to vomit, “We are killing whatever this is and freeing you just like we’re killing Cazador. Alright?” She smiled softly, her eyes glassy, “Alright.” “Second, some pretty elf? Really? I’m already a pretty elf, my dear, why introduce competition? Where the hells did that come from anyway? Don’t tell me you think you’re unattractive in any sense of the word.” “Oh, I know I’m attractive just...you don’t seem to care for tieflings in general and between that and me looking like I walked off an autopsy table I thought I was more of a novelty item than anything else.” “Well, you’re not. So, there.” Gods he’d made a mess. “And as soon as I figure all this nonsense out, we’re redoing all your firsts with me. Properly this time. Real. Because I never want to make you feel like that again.” But Astarion never had the chance to fulfill his promise. And now he’d gotten himself a pretty elf and Henri was stuck with those memories of him using her.

No pressure tags: @elinorbard, @batbuska, @ladyduellist, @roguishcat, @tealfling

(If you already wrote something, feel free to just tag me in it!)

#bg3 #astarion #durge #bg3 spoilers #dark urge #durgestarion #bg3 fanfic #ascended astarion #durge x astarion #bg3 fanfiction #henri the swords bard #angst angst angst

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nalyra-dreaming · 5 months ago

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Jones confirms that, just like in Rice’s books, Armand is the one who turns Daniel into a vampire. “Will we see that moment of turning? No, but Armand finally made a vampire and clearly made him out of spite,” he says with a laugh. “It looks like it was really not a great moment [between him and Daniel], but that connects those two characters. They will have scenes going forward, obviously.”

This is from the latest Rollins interview. I feel like an idiot now, I was desperately hoping that we would see the turning next season - but while I think Rollins may not reveal everything I don’t think he would outright lie. So we won’t see the turning.

I walked into the finale open to an exclusively present-day DM that might(!) kick-off and I didn’t expect too much given what screeners had warned about. I never thought Daniel would be turned completely off-screen however… I know there’s rumours they might write DM into the past still, but I’m a fan of Daniel and Armand outside of the ship as well and knowing we won’t see Daniel’ turning, probably won’t see anything of his first time with becoming a vampire (because of the time skip) and seeing that Armand might(?) actually have turned someone out of spite makes me just sad.

I also feel a bit off-put by how Rollins is speaking about if, feels a bit like he’s trying to affirm to fans well see more of them together (maybe surprised that so many people are invested?) but also just gives off the vibe that the DM if it all wasn’t fully planned out in the moment of writing. Which sucks when you decide to have one turn the other! This frankly does not inspire confidence and make me feel like my favourite characters been reduced to plot devices (in good writing characters can be both character and plot tool but now this doesn’t feel like it).

F*ck I’m sorry, I realise this is not a fun post to read, I just feel really upset. Thank you for hearing me out!

Okay. So.

I let this simmer a bit (and I still have a lot of catching up to do with the interviews, since, well, vacation 😅, so thanks for the quotes).

BUT.

You know what I was chewing on? Armand and… spite.

When does Armand do something out of spite.

And… I came up only with one distinct event that I, personally, would call spite, namely when he goes and has that affair with that english guy - to spite Marius.

Marius. Not yet introduced as a character, but more than hinted at. The one Daniel has also a relationship with in the books.

And here we’re back to my theory that DM did happen in the past… and that Marius wiped Daniel‘s memories.

Eric let spill recently that there might be something between Raglan and Daniel and… well on one hand… but you know if Raglan, as I also theorized, is actually Marius… then that would make a lot of sense.

DM happened in the past. Marius intervened (like he likes to do). Standing order is to leave Daniel alone (maybe). But… Daniel gets sick. They redo the interview. The “surprise“ after dinner, that never comes to pass (Louis wanting to turn Daniel for Armand?!). Louis leaving Armand with Daniel, (utterly pissed at Armand and therefore retracting his promise to turn Daniel) forcing Armand’s hand… Armand… knowing that if Daniel leaves now he will die soon.

And Armand turns Daniel - out of spite.

But not to spite Louis, or Daniel. Nor are they enemies (that‘s BS and given how Assad has talked about Loumand and what it has been on the show I do call BS here).

No, he does it to spite Marius, who wants Daniel mortal (for whatever reason). He does it IN spite of Marius‘ standing order. THAT woukd make sense to me.

And it would also explain why Armand isn’t there after… Marius might have come by for a… chat.

I know this sounds wild.

But honestly - spite? Anger?!! No. That doesn’t make any sense to me. And, I‘m sorry Assad, but I‘m side-eying your statements there after the Loumand ones. *shrugs*

So.

It sucks that we maybe won’t get the turning.

But I BET - I bet they have a good reason for that. Because it would contradict what they’re trying to establish for now.

It will be a big twist for show-only fans after all when it will be made clear why Armand turned him truly.

So. These are my thoughts, after chewing on it for a bit. Knowing Rolin likes to troll a bit obviously plays into that as well. And Hannah‘s tweet.

We‘ll see how it will hold. :)

#anonymous #ask nalyra #interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #armand #daniel molloy #devil‘s minion #the devil’s minion #iwtv amc #marius de romanus #future season speculation

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steviewashere · 6 months ago

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Hello, since you're taking prompts, I'm here humbly requesting anything with autistic Steve because I adore him and he's relatable af. Steddie, heavy on the comfort? Other than that, whatever you like, I'll love it :)

Wooo!! I wrote this in like three hours because I was on a roll, so I'm excited to share this!

Rating: Teen and UpCW: Meltdown, Overstimulation (Not That Kind), Some Negative Stimming, Mild Internalized AbleismTags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Established Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Cuddling & Snuggling, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Soft Steve Harrington, Soft Eddie Munson

Also on AO3

💕—————💕 His t-shirt was too tight. Had it shrunk in the wash, he initially asked himself. Is this not even mine? But when he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, reflected back at him was the same burgundy colored t-shirt, softly worn and sweat stained, a big graphic stretched across the chest that read: ‘Go Bulls, Go!’. Where this thing came from, he doesn’t remember, but it’s kept him comforted and grounded throughout the years.

Steve had a particular wardrobe. Maybe a bit peculiar to the normal, wandering eye. But to him, his clothes made perfect sense. Every pair of jeans was just a size bigger than he needed them, to give him the extra give. All of his white boxer briefs were made of cotton, because the silky type were always too constricting. His socks had holes and patches on them—worn over and over and over again, folded inside out so that the seams didn’t catch under his toes, but they were the perfect level of softness that he couldn’t find anywhere else. Polos made of cotton. Henleys the same. And his t-shirts, well they were soft, too.

In fact, Steve loves soft things. Loves loose things. Loves expected things.

But now his t-shirt is too tight. The t-shirt he thought of all of the last three days. A t-shirt he thought would look good with his light washed Levi’s—always worn on Thursdays for his day of errands. And looking at the little desktop calendar in his room, it is indeed Thursday. He planned this, but he neither planned nor considered the possibility of a clothing malfunction. His hands go to stretch the hem of the shirt, pluck it away from his body and make the fabric accommodate him. However, at the first tug, the loosely bound hem gives an unmistakable Riiiippp sound.

And…

Great, he thinks, I’ve just ruined one of my favorite shirts.

The t-shirt’s too tight, now ripped, and about to be retired. If only he could find something that works the exact same. Every t-shirt he tries on has some sort of error: too big, too ugly, clashing colors, won’t match the Adidas he picked out last night, stretched on the collar, so on and so forth. It’s Thursday, he thinks, it’s a busy day. Errand day. And now I have nothing to wear. Well, he has something. Not exactly what he planned. But if he doesn’t just put on a damn shirt, he’ll never get through his day, and if he misses out on the free time to take charge of the few errant errands—Steve’ll never get them done or he’ll get them done on a different day, a day where it’s noticeably not Thursday.

He snatches a yellow polo from the back of his closet. Dijon mustard colored. Too scratchy over the downy hairs on his belly. But he doesn’t have the time. Doesn’t have the time to redo his hair—three puffs of hairspray and he’d have to do a fourth, but four doesn’t fit, it’s not right, it’s too different. So he just settles. He’s got a schedule today, and damn the world for already trying to stop him.

Next on his agenda is breakfast.

Which, now that his head is shoved dutifully in the fridge and he’s rummaging around like a dumpster diving raccoon, he remembers that he has to go grocery shopping. Down to three large eggs, a couple bacon strips that didn’t crunch right the last time he ate them, and some cream cheese for bagels he can’t reason eating anymore. But he makes do. Again, settling—always settling, it seems. Because today just can’t go right.

Half-way through the eggs, his brain reminds him that he’s eating eggs. The texture going from wonderfully scrambled, not too soft and not too dry—to awfully rubbery and terribly bland and disgustingly charred. His bacon didn’t crisp right, so he won’t even attempt the few nibbles that lay out on his plate. And the bagel is just…staring up at him like the thousand eyes on every spider of his nightmares. Just the mere thought of cream cheese on his tongue has him wanting to hurl. So he tosses the rest, sets his plate in the sink, and wonders if he’ll even have the time to do the dishes—they aren’t piling by any means, but he didn’t plan this. He wanted cereal this morning. Had thought about the near glass like shards of Cap’n Crunch against the roof of his mouth, drenched in whole fat milk. But, again—You’re an idiot, he’s starting to chastise—he forgot that he needed to do a grocery run today.

Now that his stomach isn’t full and is left completely unsettled. Now that his shirt is scratching him and rough in all the wrong places. Now that more wrongs have been done to him than rights, he can woefully cart himself to the supermarket.

Only to get there and not find a spot. Well, one in the back of the parking lot is barely a spot. The one he hates parking in because he always has to walk two minutes longer than he needs to and sometimes the gravel from the nearby bushes is kicked up and then he steps on it and there’ll be a rock in the sole of his shoe. Like there is today because of course, of all days, there are little jagged gravel rocks for him to step on and feel through the soft, giving out soles of his sneakers. Of course, he thinks—riding over mildly irritated to extremely annoyed within seconds.

The grocery store is hell on earth, if it exists. Lights fluorescent and produce aisle sprinklers going haywire and the coffee grounds too fresh and the chatter of people incessant. Annoying.

He brought a paper slip with him. His chicken scratch identifiable to him. Reading:

Grocery List

Milk White Bread (Wonder, not Kroger) Peanut Butter (Jiff, not Skippy) Laundry Detergent - unscented Cat food (salmon this time, maybe that’ll lure in that stray?) Pasta (Thin spaghetti, penne, and farfalle) Parmesan (Preferably not in the jar, but whatever is cheapest) Potatoes Pop-Tarts? (Eddie’s favorite is brown sugar) Chicken Chicken nuggets

The cart he grabs has a wheel that squeaks the entire time he pushes it. Wonder bread is sold out by the time he gets to the right aisle. They really should say something when they change the layout of the store, he notes bitterly, stuffing a couple loafs of Kroger white bread into his cart. Skippy was the chosen option of the creamy peanut butters, simply because the Jiff wasn’t on sale anymore. On the bright side, salmon wet cat food wasn’t too expensive, even if he could only grab three cans. The Pop-Tarts are forgotten by the time he makes it back to his car. And the first paper bag has a handle that rips off almost immediately. And he forgot to unload the quite substantial amount of baseball supplies he brought to the park the other day—which means the bags are loaded into the backseat and he can only hope and pray that the milk doesn’t topple over and squish the bread or god forbid the laundry detergent somehow gets jostled the wrong way and spills all over his car.

He should’ve made another list of things he needs to remember he’d done. Would’ve been nice, he supposes, if he told his future self that the baseball equipment is still in his trunk. But, alas, here he is playing the same Tears for Fears tape again, listening to the baseballs clink off of each other. Thank god for the Tears for Fears tape, though—it’s the same one he’s listened to nearly every day since he bought it in 1983. At least that’s something to expect. At least it’s something he can rely on after the absolute shitshow he’s had today.

Though, maybe he should’ve expected having to pull over to the shoulder. In a car that chokes and gives up when he’s two-thirds back, half-way through his errands list, and completely done with everything. His hands are tight on the steering wheel. And there’s nothing but silence flowing around him. It’s like drowning, sitting here like this. For once, after everything he’s ever experienced and having so many bad days like this, he doesn’t know what to do.

A part of him, the overwhelmingly obvious part, wants to scream and cry and kick his legs out in front of him. Wants to dig the heels of his feet into the pure asphalt underneath the rubber tires of his stupid, unreliable car. Maybe tear the shirt right off his body and squish himself back to normal. But in the open, bright pool of sunlight, he can do nothing but just sit there. Head against the steering wheel, wet breaths through his nose, and a tightness in his throat that won’t rid even after his fifth swallow. Part of him wants to cry and cry and cry and never stop crying. And it sounds good. Not here, though. Not yet.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there before something knocks on his window. So, he rolls his head over to peer—not at all that gently, with enough force to drive a hard line into his skin. But when he catches sight of the person watching him nearly fall apart, he wants to cry impossibly more.

It’s Eddie. With his big, soft, concerned eyes. Hair tied up into a bun. Coveralls over his body, splattered with oil and other unidentifiable muck. Probably coming back from an early morning shift at the auto shop in town. He can help, maybe. So, Steve cranks down his window. Enough that Eddie can dangle his arms inside and crouch down to get a better looks.

“Stevie,” he softly greets. “You doin’ okay?”

Steve just shrugs. Makes some sort of noncommittal grunt. He works his jaw tight and tense. Mumbles, “Car broke down.”

Eddie hums, acknowledging. He looks over his shoulder briefly, leans to peer into the backseat, and then looks onto Steve again. “I can take a look, if you want, sweetheart.”

“Don’t have enough money to get it fixed right now.”

“Baby,” Eddie sighs. His eyes go half-lidded with aching. He reaches out a tentative hand and gently traces his fingers over Steve’s left shoulder. Inching his way to his neck, where knots are surely forming. “It’s free of charge for you, you know that.”

“I just don’t care about it right now,” Steve lies. He cares a great deal. Cares that this has ruined his day. Has ruined the rest of his plans, but if he admits that, he’s sure he’ll cry. He’s not sure why that’s his first reaction: to cry and break things and flap his hands as if ridding the energy. Not sure why it hurts to look Eddie in the eyes right now. Why everything that’s happened has affected him so negatively. Why he’s so particular about his things to do and how he dresses and what he eats. But he knows he’ll cry if he explains.

“Okay,” Eddie mutters. His fingers are soothing over Steve’s shoulder. Light and airy and so soft, it makes Steve want to melt. “How about I drive you back? Help you unpack your groceries? We can leave this baby right here for now and figure out how to get it back to you later, alright?”

Wordlessly, Steve nods, hauls himself out of the driver’s seat, and helps Eddie unpack the bags into the back of his van. That part of him that wants to destroy flares alive inside of him. And he has to restrain himself from chucking the milk carton against the side of the van. But he gets into the passenger seat, silent and seething and mildly overwhelmed.

He gets angrier, though, as soon as Eddie’s radio blares to life. Heavy, obnoxiously loud drums and guitars and vocals fill the space. Instinctively, Steve’s hands shoot to his ears, covering them completely with his palms, digging his fingernails into the skin around them. Garbled, he makes a noise of great discomfort. Grits his teeth together. Squeezes his eyes shut until little speckles of black float in the corners. And hunches into himself, compact and an easy trick to consolidate himself. It doesn’t work, though. Nothing is working in his favor.

“Turn it off, Eddie,” he distantly hears himself snap, “turn it off!”

All at once, the music stops.

Steve sighs, not quite relieved, but easier. It’s still bright. And Eddie’s van smells a little bit like marijuana. And maybe Steve hasn’t smoked that in a little while because the scent is too intense and he never knows how to explain why the smell alone makes him want to scream, but it does and he knows part of that isn’t normal but he doesn’t know how to be normal and now he’s blown his cover all because of something petulant like music being too loud and now Eddie won’t want to date him because he’s being irritable and annoying and—

“Sweetheart?” Eddie’s distant, raspy, soft voice calls. “Is it a migraine? Do you need some water?”

“No,” Steve answers tersely. “Just take me home, Eddie.” He can’t loosen himself from the tight hold, from the squeeze of his eyelids, from the tension in his fingers. But he’s probably making an ass of himself. Probably pissing Eddie off. “Please,” he tacks on, “please take me home, Eddie.”

Nothing else is said as the van rattles and grumbles, pulling away from where Eddie had been parked. There’s no words. No music. Eddie doesn’t fidget. Steve doesn’t think either of them breathe, really. And not only has he pissed Eddie off, but he’s starting to make himself angry. Why couldn’t I just be normal, Steve internally bemoans. I’m being annoying. And he shouldn’t be helping me. And I should’ve just called a tow truck. And I’m making a big deal out of nothing, just like Mom and Dad used to say.

And if he were in a different mindset, he could probably think about why that statement used to feel so miserable. When his parents would dismiss him. Send him to his room. Where he’d sob into his pillows and toss his books across the room and hide inside his closet because it’s the only place that truly felt safe. The closet, where the world couldn’t reach him, and the lights were all dark and he could hum as much as he wanted. Because nobody could find him. And nobody cared. And then he was warm, safe, the version of himself he felt he needed to be.

Eddie parks gently. He helps bring the groceries inside. And then he just stays. As if Steve didn’t just ruin everything. But he looks at him with those concerned eyes again, fidgeting with his fingers because he wants to reach out, about two seconds away from crawling out of his skin. Meanwhile, Steve’s pacing back and forth, squeezing his hands shut, eyes closed, breathing heavy through his nose.

“Is something wrong, Steve?” Eddie finally breaks.

Steve shakes his head quickly. “Long day,” he gets out.

Humming, Eddie takes a step forward. He tilts his head and attempts to make eye contact, but Steve averts his gaze. “Why don’t we sit down for a bit and take a little breather?”

“This is the wrong shirt,” Steve blurts, scratching at his stomach again. The shirt keeps rubbing up and down whenever he bends, whenever he moves for that matter. It’s starchy and too new. Too much, not enough. “And my hair is a mess.”

“It’s not a mess,” Eddie murmurs, “looks fine to me.”

“No. I messed it up this morning. Because I tried on all my shirts.”

“All of them?”

Steve nods hastily. “None of them were right. And that doesn’t make sense, I know, but it’s true. And I put three puffs of hairspray in, needed a fourth, but that’s not right either.” He angles his head up at the ceiling, furls and unfurls his hands a few more times before placing them palm down and flat against his chest. Wants to press down. Hard enough to remember, but not enough to bruise. So he does. Gives in. Allows himself this one good thing, the pressure, the hurt, the sizzling ache. “My breakfast was gross.”

“Yeah? What’d you have, baby?” Eddie gently asks.

“Why—“ Steve gasps, struggling. “Why are you fine with this?”

Taken aback, Eddie makes a soft noise. His eyes widen and he furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m being weird. I—You saw me! I was having like a little mini freakout in my car and then I got all mad at you and I was covering my ears and keeping myself tight and now I’m—Fuck, I’m going insane.

“Everything’s wrong. Everything is so wrong. My whole day is fucking wrong. Schedule got ruined. The clothes I planned out days ago didn’t work. My breakfast was bullshit and the grocery store didn’t have the right bread and Skippy is my least favorite peanut butter, but I had to get it because it was on sale and I forgot to get those Pop-Tarts you like even though I wrote them down on my stupid list but I don’t make enough lists because I forgot about the baseball stuff in my car and it shouldn’t have been there and that’s why I had to put the groceries in the backseat and the only good thing was my Tears for Fears album was still in the radio—And…Fuck.” Steve takes a haltingly loud gasping breath. He slams his hands over his chest, finally giving in to that innate urge he’s carried since he was a kid. Squeezes his eyes shut again, not wanting to see whatever hurt or disappointment or realization washes over Eddie’s face.

He continues, “I left the album in my car. The light’s too bright. I can…I can like hear the wiring in the fixtures. Everything. I’m feeling…I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Steve babbles. His hands flex into his shirt, the fabric wrong on his skin. Fingernails scratching at it, trying to tear it off. Wants to crouch down onto his knees and hide between the corner cabinets, nestle himself in a dark place, cry until there’s nothing left to give.

The realization hits him all at once, he needs to get away. To the safe space he created. So he forces himself around Eddie, up the stairs, behind his slammed bedroom door. And he crawls the rest of the way into the deep, far side of his closet. On top of old blankets, underneath too small clothes. Rests his head against the wall. And just…sobs.

His elbows rest upon his knees as he shields his face with his forearms. The sounds of his cries muffled by his own skin. He kicks off his sneakers and digs his feet into the pile of blankets underneath him. Trying to get rid of the itchy, swooping, nauseous ache from inside him. He doesn’t like this part of his bad days. Doesn’t like being alone. To be left with his own mess. But he’s not sure how Eddie will respond, so he figures this is better.

Though, that’s quickly proven wrong when Eddie carefully comes in, announcing himself as the door opens. He stops in front of the closet and crouches down. “Hey, Stevie? Is it alright if I’m in here, baby?”

Steve sniffles. “I…You’re not going to be mean, are you?”

“No, Steve. I promise I’ll be nice. I just…You seem really overwhelmed and I thought maybe I could help you a little bit.” He shuffles forward slightly, opening the closet door from inside. Peeks through the gap. Asks, “How?”

“Could give you a hug? But…I was thinking we could trade shirts first? Mine is pretty soft, kind of loose. I know that’s how you like your t-shirts, baby.” For good measure, he plucks his t-shirt and gestures for Steve’s.

“You’ll look like a dork.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be comfortable. So hand me your shirt and I’ll give you mine.”

Once they’ve exchanged shirts, Steve leaves the closet and sits with Eddie against the side of his bed. Sure, the mattress may be soft and feel nice, but the firm ground under him keeps him anchored. He leans into Eddie’s side, lets him drape an arm over his shoulders, and sighs into the hold. Eddie’s other hand comes up and he traces fingers over Steve’s hairline, featherlight but caring all the same.

“Does this help?” Eddie whispers.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “Sorry about…Well, being weird and getting all intense earlier.”

Eddie shrugs. “It wasn’t like that at all, baby. You had a bad day, nothing worked in your favor. I’m not going to fault you for reacting.”

“I was crying in my closet, Eds. That’s hardly normal.”

“I’d cry, too if I had the day you experienced.” He runs his hand between Steve’s shoulder blades, pressing firmly over the tense knots that formed. “Is there anything I can do? Anything on your list that you need help with?”

Steve nuzzles his face into Eddie’s shoulder, cheek squished against the joint. Muffled, he says, “For now, can you just hold me for a while? Nobody’s ever comforted me like this after…Well, you saw what happened. But later, can you help me vacuum and mop?”

“I’ll hold you forever,” Eddie promises. “And I’ll exterminate all the dust bunnies you could ever think to encounter, nothing could make me happier.”

Something in him finally chips away. He’s not quite loose, yet. Not ready to release all the pent up negative energy he’s seemed to catch throughout his day. But he can believe Eddie, for the moment. He rests his head deeper into Eddie’s shoulder, lets himself fall into whatever song Eddie is humming, reaches out and grips firmly to one of Eddie’s hands. Plays with his rings, the smooth metal like a balm on the fatty part of his thumb. He relishes in how Eddie just lets him. Lets him, despite everything.

He can’t quite look Eddie in the eyes, not yet. Can’t force himself off the ground. Can’t quite get rid of that intense, drowning sensation that burbles in his chest—makes him want to cry and breakdown even further. And maybe he can, realistically. But later, he surmises, later he’ll do that, so long as Eddie continues to not mind.

The warmth of their shared bodies is nice. The softness of Eddie’s t-shirt against his skin. The gentle musk left on the collar from whatever cologne Eddie uses. Something with bergamot, a little bit of citrus, something like bourbon. He closes his eyes softly. There’s not much light flooding into his bedroom, just a stripe of golden sunlight from between his curtains, but that’s fine.

For the first time today, something is fine.

“I like this,” Steve quietly admits. “You being here with me through this, I mean.”

Eddie makes an acknowledging hum. “Whenever you need me, I’m a phone call away, sweetheart. I’ll come dashing over, your knight in shining armor, armed with the softest of t-shirts and the most delicious of snacks just for you, baby.”

Steve chuckles. A sound he thought wouldn’t be possible on a day like this. Despite everything, he smiles softly. “I’d love that,” he whispers, “I love you, Eds. Thank you for making me feel a little bit normal.”

“I love you, too, Stevie,” he responds, easy as that. “And I mean it, baby. I love you, I want to hold you and cherish you. You need anything, any time of day, you call me. Bad days are no joke.”

“Mmm,” Steve gently hums. “Maybe I should add cuddle time to my daily routine?”

“Maybe you should,” Eddie agrees. “I think that would be excellent for both of us.”

“Good,” Steve states quietly. He wraps his own arm around Eddie’s waist, pulls him in tighter, and tucks in close. “This feels right.”

💕——–——💕 Taglist: @hotluncheddie

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #autistic steve harrinton #angst and hurt/comfort

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