#I know I’ll find something eventually and there’s more opportunities

[innerfare]

A Lucky Injury - Law

Summary: Your Captain, whom you've been crushing on since you joined the Heart Pirates, was injured in a fight, and his wound is in a place he just can't reach, forcing him to ask you for help bandaging it. Features pining (reader is down bad).

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff

CW: SFW // Slight Mention of Blood and Injury (no real gory details though)

Word Count: 643

———

It was a lucky injury. You were a bad person for thinking it, a horrible person for gleaning any amount of pleasure from your Captain’s pain, but it was a lucky injury. Somewhere between mild and moderate on the scale, closer to moderate though Law claimed it was mild, the gash on his shoulder blade was just out of reach. For him, at least. The gash was well within your reach. It was also serious enough to warrant medical attention, but not so serious that you had to worry about his future health. 

It was a lucky injury. 

“Take off your shirt,” you ordered him, doing your utmost to act normal as he sighed and went to pull his hoodie off. To your sick pleasure, he flinched a little when he did, allowing you to step in and pull it the rest of the way off. You caught the lingering scent of his soap and that special laundry detergent he used for his sensitive skin mixed with his sweat, and you had to stop yourself from pulling the garment to your face and inhaling like some sort of lunatic. 

“Y/n-ah, I can do it myself.” His voice sounded lower than usual, similar to when he was tired or battling a cold he insisted he didn’t have. It was gravelly, like it might give out at any moment. 

“Just like you could fight those guys yourself?” You set the hoodie beside him on the exam table and assessed his wound, drying some of the blood from his tanned skin. You took extra care not to look at his bare chest, knowing full well those heart tattoos and lithe muscles would make it too difficult to concentrate on your work. 

“I did fight them myself,” he said. “And I beat them myself, too, so don’t-” He hissed as you dabbed his wound with antiseptic. 

“Yeah, you’re a real tough guy.” 

“I’m a Warlord,” he reminded you. 

“And the most terrifying one, to boot.” You continued cleaning his wound, a little bit too aware of the way his jaw clenched as you worked. Oh, and the sinewy line of his shoulder. You knew your captain was a nerd, but he certainly didn’t have the body of a guy who spent much of his time hunched over a desk. 

It was a lucky injury. 

“Why are you taking so long?” He asked. “It’s clean by now, just bandage me up.” 

“Doctors make the worst patients,” you tutted, giving his wound one more pass with the antiseptic. It was for his own good, not because you wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to touch him. 

“If you’re dragging this out to punish me for going in by myself-” 

“I would never prolong your suffering,” you interrupted, reaching for a bandage. “That would be unethical.” 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “a pirate would never do something unethical.” 

“Is the Warlord going to lecture me now on ethics?” 

“Maybe.” He cleared his throat, and you realized there was a slight pink flush to his cheeks, though you had no idea why. You could only imagine he was embarrassed to be caught in a position where he needed help. 

You considered messing up the bandage so you had to redo it, now not even so enamored by his naked upper half as you were enjoying the way he squirmed, for once not in a position of power, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Of course, you regretted it as soon as he grabbed his dirty hoodie and tugged it back on. 

“I’ll need to change that in a few hours,” you told him as he stood up. “Come find me after dinner.” 

“Thanks,” was all he said before slipping out, leaving you with the fresh memory of his shirtless form and warm skin. 

It was a lucky injury. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[justaz]

post magic reveal arthur is like “:/ mmm i’ll open up communications with the druids but idk about repealing the ban :/“ and merlin is like “??? why??” and arthur’s like “well magic is evil, that’s all i’ve been taught and all i know. i know you’re not evil but idk about other sorcerers, i can’t just let them free.” and merlin’s like “what’ll get you to consider it” and arthur’s like “well you say that magic isn’t something you chose, it choses you. alright, but people still chose to use it.” and merlin who has never followed this train of thought before is like,,, “you wanna test it? experiment? i can stop using my magic and we’ll see what happens” and arthur who has been playing his father’s lessons on magic through his head for the past like month since he found out and has been trying to figure out a way to get merlin to stop corrupting his soul jumps on the opportunity and is like “great idea :] nothing could go wrong :] you stop corrupting yourself and i don’t have to set magic free :]”

merlin stops using his magic for everything. he makes a conscious effort to force it all down and away and the first few days pass by fine. then he starts to get a little dizzy and then he gets spacey and distracted but not rambly, just staring off into space. then he’s just like. not there anymore. druids come to camelot to speak with arthur but can’t stop staring at merlin and eventually cut the conversation off to point at merlin and ask whats wrong with him

when they find out whats been going on they go all “oh shit” and urge everyone to stand still and not make a move. arthur inquires and they answer. magic has built up within him. magics natural state is free, it wishes to be used and to fly free, to be cooped up within someone is like caging a wild stallion. it bucks and kicks at the gate, bites at its handlers, and fights like hell to be set free. the magic thats been trapped within merlin for a couple of weeks is practically tearing him apart from the inside trying to set itself free. but! they can’t just tell him to use magic here. even the smallest use of magic would be a crack in a dam that would crumble like ash and set all the magic free. and with all that magic - all of emrys’s magic? he could very well flatten the city.

they cautiously, EXTREMELY cautiously, guide merlin out of the room, out of the castle, and into the middle of the woods. they urged everyone (who followed which is like arthur and his knights) back and out of the forest. then from a distance, the eldest druid mentally reached out to merlin and instructed him to let his magic loose. within seconds a blast of pure golden light shoots forth and flattens the entire forest, the druids casting a large shield to protect themselves, arthur, and his men.

merlin staggers to his feet in the distance and the eldest druid reaches out again, for safe measure, and tells him to let loose once more. merlin obeys and reaches down into the ground and pulls all the trees back up and imbues them with life so they thrive once more. the druids claim the forest as their own, sacred by order of emrys. arthur allows it. and then goes home to draft up a magic ban repeal. and an apology to merlin.

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in the Bottle - Chapter 9

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Elain Bashing, Rhys is trying to be a supportive big brother, This is officially the penultimate chapter of this story, but the series will eventually go on!

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

“When was I supposed to tell you?” Eira asked Feyre calmly. “You said you were busy with more important things. You were busy with running this court.”

She didn’t give her sister the fault for that, but…

“I would have…” Feyre protested but then cut herself off. “No, I wouldn’t have,” she sighed. “That’s on me. I gave you no opportunity to come to me, no reason why you should ever trust me again…” Feyre said softly, trailing off, staring at Eira with wide blue eyes. “I am sorry.”

“For what? Saying what you were thinking?” Eira asked her sister, her eyebrows furrowing. “You are allowed to do that, Feyre. Even if I don’t like to hear it.”

Even when she didn’t want to hear it…even then.

“Talking to you like this,” Feyre pointed out, reaching out for her hand.  “When I told you that I had more important things to do when you were only trying to be nice to me…or when I put my nose into what happened between Azriel and you.”

Eira swallowed at that. 

“Don’t be,” Eira assured her sister, forcing a smile on her face.  “It was time for me to…to realise that he’s completely uninterested and that any hope of him changing his mind is a fever dream.” Azriel wasn’t interested and he never would be. It would be better for everybody if Eira just accepted that. 

She would get over him. Find somebody else…maybe somebody that she wouldn’t annoy… maybe some long-suffering male… who was willing to take pity on her.  “You don’t need to worry about it anymore, Feyre. I won’t try and talk to him again,” she promised her sister. 

Feyre had enough other things to worry about. Eira’s feelings weren’t going to inconvenience anyone any more. 

“No!” Feyre exclaimed and she stared at her sister. 

What? 

This was what Feyre had wanted, wasn’t it?

“No?” she repeated questioningly, a hand still gently running over Nyx's back that was happily cuddling with her, playing with her fingers. 

“What Feyre means is that…you have every right to…handle your relationships as you see fit,” Nesta hurried to add. 

Her relationships?

“There is no relationship. There never will be a relationship. I’ll get over myself,” Eira promised. Eventually. “You don’t need to worry about it. I won’t annoy him any longer or inconvenience you.”

You’ve never annoyed Master, the shadows hissed at her, suddenly appearing and wrapping themselves around her hand. 

“It’s very sweet of you to say that, but we both know it is a lie,“ she said quietly, blinking back the tears that threatened to run over her face. It was so sweet. So sweet of them to do that…but it was useless. 

Don’t worry, I’ll find somebody else,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel. Somebody that…somebody that maybe wanted her…somebody that she wouldn’t annoy…somebody that… “Is everything alright with Elain’s wedding planning?“ she asked, changing the topic. Eira hoped everything was alright with that, otherwise poor Elain would be so stressed once again and…

“Eira, forget that fucking wedding for a moment,” Nesta snapped and she flinched, worriedly looking at Nyx that didn’t seem to care one way or another about Nesta’s cursing. What was wrong with the wedding? Had something gone amiss? Was it her fault? Was it something that Eira had done?! “Look at me,” her older sister said with a sigh. She did. Eira’s eyes met Nesta’s, silver and grey, so similar. “I am sorry,” Nesta told her earnestly. 

“Why are you apologising?” Eira asked. What was…

“Because I threw everything I could think of at your head when I…during those weeks and you still came to visit me every week. You wouldn’t have needed to do that but you still did,” Nesta said quietly. 

“You’re my sister. Of course, I came to visit you,” Eira said fiercely. Of course, she had come to visit Nesta. She would have…otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to live with herself. ”You don’t need to apologise,” Eira assured her. It was fine. Nesta had…had a really bad time and…

“Yes, I do,” Nesta snapped. “You should be angry with me!”

Furious…Angry…But then Eira had never really been angry quickly. She had never…And even when she had gotten angry, it had never held for very long…even her anger at Elain had gone away in a few hours. 

It sparked and then it went out again.

“You should be furious with me! For belittling you, for telling you that all the dresses you make are ugly, for behaving like I did!”

She repeated the words, and something deep inside Eira curled together once she heard them again, even when Nesta was sorry about all she had said. 

It was fine. Nesta could… her dresses weren’t as perfect as some that one could buy maybe…maybe Nesta was right. Maybe she should keep to hemming them and shortening sleeves and alterations and stop making things from scratch…maybe she should…“You are entitled to your own opinion,” she said softly. 

“Not when I use it to hurt you on purpose!” Nesta yowled. “You never told me you made me a wedding dress,” she said, her voice dropping, sounding weak. 

How did she…

For just a moment it felt like Eira’s heart was stopping. Then she swallowed, and she looked down at Nyx, still cuddled up to her, as she answered.  “You wouldn’t have wanted to wear it, so what did it matter? It’s ugly.”

Not good enough. Not pretty enough. Worthless.

“It’s beautiful,” Nesta responded, her voice splintering. 

Eira just closed her eyes. 

She couldn’t stand it. She could deal with the harsh words but she could not deal with the outright lying. She could not… “You don’t need to tell me that to spare my feelings, Nesta. I understand,” Eira said weakly. She did understand it. 

It was alright. It was…

“I am not lying to you!” Nesta snapped.” “Be angry at us. Scream at us. Throw us out, Eira. But don’t just…accept it. Don’t just turn the other cheek. Don’t just…”

What good could that possibly do?

“So I am angry and then what, Nesta?” Eira finally asked, for the first time feeling so utterly tired. “Is screaming at you supposed to make me feel better or you?” she asked, for the life of her not understanding what Nesta wanted from her. “I love you, but I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I think it may be better if you all take a break,” a voice came from the doorway and she looked up to see Rhysand there. 

Gods, couldn’t she at least be spared that? 

At least…

“I am not…” Nesta started, but Rhys cut her off quietly. 

“Nesta. Please.” She had never heard the two of them talk to each other like that. 

Never. 

But now they did. And to Eira’s shock, her older sister listened. 

“Fine,” she agreed with a sigh, as Feyre scooped up Nyx, who gave her a toothy smile as she waved at him. 

Both Feyre and Nesta left the room, leaving her alone with Rhys. 

“If this is about my ill-hidden puppy crush on your spymaster, you don’t need to worry about that,” she told him, trying to make her voice seem frosty and probably failing horribly. “I promise I’ll do whatever you want so that he’s not uncomfortable.”

Maybe then she would get out of needing to have a conversation about it with Rhys…maybe then he wouldn’t start making fun of her or laughing at it…

God, it must be utterly ridiculous to a man who was over 500 years old. She probably was just…

The last thing she had expected was for him to watch her with his dark violet eyes and then say three words: “I am sorry.”

Why was everybody insisting on apologising to her today?

And why was Rhys of all people apologising to her? Was it because of him looking into her mind? Seeing her deepest darkest secrets? Stripping her mind naked for him to see and gawk at? 

Was it that?

“About taking a peek into my mind? Weren’t you trying to keep my pain at bay?” she asked, crossing her arms, ignoring the pain that appeared again in her ribs. 

���I was,” Rhys agreed. “But I should have known better. I was arrogant and not careful enough. You have a right to privacy, Eira, and I violated that. And then I violated it further when I told everybody what you felt when they were talking to you.”

Oh great. It just got worse and worse. 

“It’s fine,” she said, waving him off meekly. She didn’t have the strength to argue with him right now. 

“It’s not,” Rhys disagreed with a sigh. “And that’s not the only thing that I am sorry about either. I am sorry about the role I played in making you feel like you have no place here in Velaris,” he continued and her head snapped up to him. 

How…of course. He had seen everything. 

 “Like you are worthless…that you don’t matter,” Rhys continued softly. “I should have never talked to you like that, and I should have realised that we have taken you for granted a very long time ago,” Rhys said. “Even now you are wondering why Feyre and Nesta even bother to apologise to you. Eira, it wasn’t right how we treated you. When I finally got to pull myself from your mind, I threw up, because I was so utterly disgusted with what members of our family said to you. And I am counting myself onto that list as well.”

She didn’t even know what to say to that. 

She didn’t…

It was everything she had ever wished anybody would tell her…Everything right there offered to her on a silver platter. 

She could feel the tears burn into her eyes because she was…”What do you want?” Eira finally choked out. “What do you want, Rhysand? You wouldn’t say that if you didn’t want something. So what is it?”

What did he want that…

But she hadn’t expected him to reach out, one warm broad hand settling on her shoulder. 

“Oh, little one,” he breathed. “I don’t…I don’t want anything from you. This isn’t me manipulating you into giving up even more of yourself. The only thing I want is for you to be happy. I want you to know that we love you. I want you to know that none of us took for granted what you did…that you took this knife for Nyx. You were willing to give your own life for my son, Eira.” 

She had. 

“I am sorry for the role I played. I am not expecting you to forgive me now, but I would…hope that you may let me earn your forgiveness. May let all of us work for it.”

She had no idea what to think of that, didn’t know what to say about any of that, as the tears ran over her cheeks and he handed her a handkerchief from nowhere, his magic easily answering his call. 

“Think about it?” he requested softly. “If you don’t think you can ever forgive us…we’ll figure out somewhere else for you to stay…you won't ever need to worry about money or anything else…but if you were willing to give us a second chance…I know that Feyre and Nesta would be so happy to have you here.”

She didn’t want to go anywhere else. She was too connected to her family for that, she loved them too much that she thought that she could be happy anywhere further away from them. Maybe a smarter person would have taken Rhys’ offer with both hands, would have made herself a nice little life somewhere near the Summer Court maybe…but…

So finally she just nodded. 

She would give them a chance to fix things. She could try. 

And if it didn’t work out…maybe she would find herself somewhere else then. 

“There is…something else, I need to show you, if that’s alright, though,” Rhys continued quietly. “And it’s not..going to be…nice,” he warned her. “Elain had a vision.”

A vision? A bad one? “When?” Eira asked tonelessly. Were they in danger? 

“Close to two years ago,” Rhys answered gently. “Soon after you were made…and since then Elain has…manipulated circumstances so that it wouldn’t come to fruition. She didn’t tell anybody about it.”

This didn’t sound well. This didn’t sound like her sister either. 

“Is she alright?” Eira demanded and Rhys nodded. 

“She’s fine,” he promised her, his voice even. “I think it’s better if you see it if you’ll let me show you.” 

She nodded her agreement, swallowing…steeling herself for death and destruction and then getting…neither. 

Actually, that vision was…the softest, sweetest thing she had ever seen. 

It was…It was everything she had ever wanted. 

A little girl with her caramel brown hair…dark eyes…hazel and green…and wings. She had wings? Illyrian wings?

Eira watched herself with the little girl…watched them pull the carrots out of the ground…watched the little girl grin at her, gap-toothed and beautiful…everything she had ever wanted. 

And then…then she saw these violently scarred hands that had only ever touched her with so much gentleness…scoop up the little girl, her daughter…her mud-sprinkled dress decorated with little floral embroidery and settled her on his hip in a move that looked like he had done it hundreds and thousands of time. 

It was…

Azriel. 

What? How…why…the wings. It was his child? Her child? His child? Their child?!

He lifted up the basket that they kept their harvest in and then helped up her…the touch gentle and…intimate in a way that spoke of their…that…

One hand was pressed against the swell of her belly…another child slumbering inside her. 

A baby. 

Her babies. 

Their babies. 

No, this…this…

Her blood rushed in her ears, her breathing rapid as her vision cleared and Rhys looked at her quietly…nearly pitying. 

“The mating bond snapped for Azriel during dinner a few days ago,” he told her, his voice quiet. 

No. No. No. 

“This isn’t funny.” She wasn’t even sure how she forced these words out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure how she did that…How she…

“It’s not a joke,” Rhys assured her quietly. “It’s the truth, Eira. Elain saw that and decided to stop it from happening.

No. 

Not Elain. Not her twin sister. Not…

Azriel. Azriel?

At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

But you do need to realise, Eira, that that is never going to go anywhere. 

Azriel is completely disinterested. And it would be better for you if you finally realised that.

I want you to be happy. And thirsting after a male that will never return your affections you won’t do that. He’s not going to change his mind, Eira.

You should just stop your pathetic attempts to flirt with him. All you manage is to make him uncomfortable. 

There are plenty of fish in the sea… You’ll find somebody else one day.

It’s still never going to go anywhere!

He’s completely disinterested.

Her breathing came in sharp gasps. Blood rushed in her ears. 

Elain had said all of that. Elain. 

Elain, who had known that Eira had fallen in love. Who had seen this vision…who had seen her…her children. Her babies. 

Azriel’s children. These perfect babies? 

And Elain had tried to make sure that they never would exist?!

Her babies…

The first sob that broke out of her chest, the first fat tears that spilt over her face as she buried her face in her hands…as she cried. 

“I know. I know, little one,” Rhys whispered quietly. 

“Why did she do this?” Eira forced out, forcing a deep lungful of air into her constricting lungs. Why would she do this? Why had she…Why had Elain seen this and then…then behaved like this…why had she…Why…

“Shhhhh,” Rhys shushed her softly, gently brushing a hand over her hair, smoothing it over “It’s alright. It’s alright.” 

It wasn’t alright. None of this was alright.

And she couldn’t stop the tears or the sob that shook her…even as she didn’t know how long it took until Nesta crawled into bed with her, hauling her against her body and holding her tightly. Even as Feyre curled up next to her, holding her hand…until it was the three of them, just as it had been in that cottage…lacking one sister. 

[comatosebunny09]

As a result of watching more dramas, humor me.

You plan to go home for the holidays to spend them with your parents. 

Your mother’s been setting you up on blind dates in hopes of eventually finding you a match. She reasons you’re not getting any younger, so it’s time you settle down and start working on a family. Her intentions are good, but you just wish she’d stop badgering you. 

You don’t necessarily live the lifestyle where you can afford to have a partner right now.

You work for Onychinus’ leader, Sylus, as an assassin. You’re at the peak of your game, so much so that you’re considered his right hand by his enemies. You also secretly harbor feelings for your boss, but you know they’re fruitless because you think a relationship, let alone with you, is the furthest thing from his mind.

Anyways, you’re drinking at one of Sylus’ bars one evening, venting to him about your mother. He always humors you when you’re not working—you bring a certain flair to his life that he admits makes his days much more entertaining.

“Why don’t I pretend to be your boyfriend, then? Just to get her off your back,” he suggests with an amused crinkle to his eyes, watching you as he sips his whiskey.

You snort incredulously. Sylus and boyfriend are never two words you would imagine fitting in the same sentence. Still, you can’t deny entertaining the idea of what it’d be like to be something…more to him. 

You brush him off as just humoring you as usual, snatching your coat from the barstool and fixing your boss with a sardonic smirk. 

“Yeah, right. See ya around, bossman.” 

Your flight home leaves first thing in the morning. As much as you would like to stick around to shoot the shit with him, you need your rest to deal with your mother come morning.

Fast forward, and you’re back in your childhood home. You feel strange, being in your cutesy, innocent bedroom like there isn’t so much invisible blood on your hands and like you haven’t long shed the sheltered skin you once wore when you were younger. 

Your parents don’t know the full extent of what you do. They know you make a generous amount of money—you’ve bought them luxurious cars and clothes and sent them on exclusive vacations. You would buy them a plot of land with a beautiful home built from the ground up if they’d let you, but your parents insist on staying where they’re familiar.

An old childhood friend’s having a get-together. Your mother insists you go—this is the perfect opportunity for you to network and possibly find a future husband. Despite your protests, she pressures you, and you begrudgingly agree. 

You stick out like a sore thumb, donned in expensive fabrics at the party. Years of being an assassin and seductress have given you the gift of gab, so you’re the life of the party. Eventually, people start inquiring about your love life. Their questions become so invasive you step out momentarily to gather yourself. Just because you’re good at flapping your gums doesn’t mean you don’t occasionally become overwhelmed.

You decide to text Sylus to help ease your anxiety. You text each other quite often, and someone peering at your relationship from the outside would assume you’re just close friends. 

[ Sylus ]: that bad?

[ You ]: yeah. they won’t stop asking when i’ll get married. 

[ You ]: it’s really pissing me off. 

[ Sylus ]: lol

[ Sylus ]: well why dont you leave?

[ You ]: because i know i’ll never hear the end of it.

[ Sylus ]: hmm.

[ Sylus ]: would you like some company then?

[ You ]: 😏😏😏 what are you gonna teleport here or something?

[ Sylus ]: look up.

On cue, you glance skyward as the telltale shadow of a crow circles the ground around you. You squint your eyes against the sun’s brilliance, making out distinct iridescent feathers circling above. “Mephisto?” you suspiciously inquire.

You look down, only to be met with a familiar swatch of scarlet and white. “Sylus?!” you shriek, jumping back and clutching your pounding heart, almost having shit yourself.

He wears that customary smirk, looking so cool with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He wears a tailored, dark suit, his blazer hanging off his shoulders, ruffled by the summery breeze. “In the flesh.”

You swallow against the stickiness of your throat, wide-eyed and feeling like you’re dreaming. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Sylus examines his nails, his tone conspiratorial. “Well, I was just passing through—”

“Like hell you were!” You aim an accusatory finger at him. “We’re, like, 1,700 miles from the N109! There’s no way you’re just ‘passing through’!”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. 

A few of your high schoolmates, summoned by the commotion, gather in the courtyard behind you. The crowd oohs and ahs, whispering as they study your tall, devastatingly handsome boss. One of the women asks who he is, admiration evident in his voice. You know that tone too well: if you don’t claim him, I will. 

You swallow your resolve, seizing the opportunity to shut everyone up. 

You sidle up to your boss with a fake smile, encircling one of his arms with both of yours, your hands wrapped around his impressive bicep. You cling to him, playing up the theatrics of a docile lover. It makes you sick.

Sylus smiles down at you in your peripheral, the omniscient lift of his brow letting you know that he’s never going to let you live down what next comes from your mouth.

“This is my fiancé!” You pat his chest with a giggle pinched from your lungs, cold dread dropping into your belly. 

What the hell are you even doing?

[feinyan]

DATING HEADCANONS featuring. damon maitsu, kai monteago, wolfgang akire, desmond hall and mark berskii.

edens garden maxxing rn :] i enjoyed chapter one a lot, so i’ll be pumping out a bit more writing of them ^^; feel free to send in requests, (even if its for different medias) though i already have 3-4 drafts ill be dishing out eventually.

damon, who treats you like you’re a fragile little doll, prepared for you to break at any moment. hence, why he worries for you so much. though he attempts (and fails) to play it off as a casual concern. ‘are you hurt? bleeding?’ ‘what? no? i just tripped, damon.’ ‘are you sure? let me check just incase. come on, stop moving.’ damon, who always has a limb around you. his hands? wrapped around your waist, or intertwined within your own. his legs? always pressed up against yours. if you point it out, he gets flustered and denies it, pulling away. but you’ll still find his eyes constantly lingering on you, as if he hasn’t felt your contact in months and needed it desperately. damon, who is a tease, yet gets flustered just as easily. sarcastic, teasing remarks always escaping his lips, smirking as if he didn’t have a care in the world. though the minute you retort back with a comment of your own, he's completely quiet. blushing and muttering embarrassed insults under his breath. damon, who doesn’t quite understand standards when it comes to dating. holding a door open for you? walking close to the road? wearing a hair tie on his wrist incase you’d needed one? a foreign concept to him. but regardless, upon hearing things told to him by other people whilst rambling like kai, he tries his best to adapt to it. things that would normally be unusual for him, he attempts because he wants the best for you. damon, who is stingy and a bother about little trinkets you point out. ‘do you really need that?’ ‘that looks stupid.’ ‘its so small. why is it expensive?’ yet of course, they’d somehow end up within your residence. somehow. obviously, it were damon. damon, who spoils you with acts of services. openly doing things he’d refuse to or need convincing for from others, going out of his way to do things for you without being asked, etc. sure, maybe once in awhile he’ll knock on your head and call you an idiot for not being able to do something yourself, but it’s just teasing. he truly doesn’t mind providing for you, or helping you. anything that offers spending time with you is worth it for him.

kai, who couldn’t get enough of you. your touch, your attention, your words, you name it, he likes it. his hands are constantly all over you, any opportunity he’s given. he melts within your touch, in his most vulnerable state, unable to resist anything when it comes from you and your grasp. kai, who spoils you with anything he can offer — cute endearing nicknames, gifts he’d found that he thought you’d like, or even little snacks he thought looked silly that you two could try together. he loves to see your expression light up when he offers you some item he’d found that he thought you’d enjoy. even if you don’t end up liking it, the idea of him being reminded of you or thinking of you enough to make the purchase still leaves you feeling warm. kai, who whiningly calls you princess whenever he needs something from you. aside from his casual nicknames that he adores, like sweetheart or baby, whenever princess leaves his lips, you know he wants something from you. kai, who is admittedly quite insecure. he’s scared he’ll be abandoned by you, just like he’d been left by so many others who viewed him differently due to the persona he puts on online. but because of this, it just means he cherishes what you give him more than anything. he wants you to be able to touch those negative emotions inside of him, and see what really lies within his heart, not what he puts on the internet or around others.

wolfgang, who leaves encouraging little sticky notes around your desk when spending time away from you. reminders to take care of yourself, reminders that he loves you and wishes he were with you, etc. wolfgang, who gently takes care of you whenever given the opportunity. brushing your hair in the morning, making you coffee, assisting you in filling out paperwork, you name it. despite being such a busy man, he works hard to make sure he’s around for you. wolfgang, who despite appearing so cool headed, is such a jealous boy. the type to watch you talk to someone from behind and give them a disgustingly stern glare, but the moment you turn to face him, hes smiling sweetly in your direction. the type to wrap his arms around you and get all close and mushy in order to scare off someone else eyeing you. wolfgang, who invites you out on the sweetest dates ever. picnics under the warm, dimly lit night sky, only the stars witnessing the two of you giggling away and laying together. or, a romantic date at a a fancy restaurant, where the two of you dress elegantly, yet he can’t take his eyes off of you. his mind too caught onto the gorgeous attire tight against your body, too lost in how gorgeous you look whilst speaking to him. wolfgang, who spoils you with luxurious items. anything you want? you’ll get it. he doesn’t mind what you wear, whether or not you like cute or cheap things. what does matter though, is if you want something. and if you want something, you’ll get it.

desmond, who is so smooth with his words, you could die. the way he speaks to you in such a soft and caring tone. the way he goes along willingly with whatever you say, because admittedly, what makes you happy makes him happy. the way he speaks about you in such an endearing way to others. others may be embarrassed when speaking of or sharing about someone they love, but desmond expresses the way he feels for you without hesitation. desmond, who teaches you little quirks about his ultimate. little things that could be useful for protecting you, or just things he finds neat and wants to share with you. desmond, who is perfect for a clumsy you. about to trip? hes already grabbed you, hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you back up onto your feet. about to spill something? hes grabbed the glass, preventing it. his quick reflexes are almost scary.

mark, who loves to kiss a certain part of you. your hands, your nose, silly yet specific places which just make him feel warm. mark, who gets embarrassed about the way he thinks about you. who will be listening to you rambling like usual, yet turn his head out of no where, muttering to himself like a flustered mess. mark, who has an attitude which is no joke. it doesn’t come off as a surprise, but the way he rolls his eyes and grumbles makes it much easier to decipher when he’s displeased or irritated. but to him, you’re a soft spot which can always manage to cheer him up. your silence yet presence close to his serves as a type of battery for him. mark, who is constantly sharing songs that he likes to you. new songs hes found that remind him of you, a song hes been listening to a lot recently, or even just songs hes worked on. he wants you to enjoy what he does.

@ feinyan

[xoxochb]

omg aphrodite!reader having her first kiss with percy <3 it would be so cute rahhh

— ribbons in your hair ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: fluff fluff fluff!!! pairing: lovesick! percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite

“do you like ‘em?”

you smile brightly and turn around with a jump, revealing to percy your two braided strands tied at the ends with tiny pink ribbons. what kind of question was that, though? like them? of course he liked them! he liked anything that had anything even slightly to do with you.

“they’re great! I love them.”

you squeal and run over to sit atop your bed next to percy. absentmindedly, he takes this opportunity to take each of your braids between his palms delicately thumbs running over the curves of your hair, and ending over the ribbon tying it all together. he silently hopes you can’t see the utter adoration in his eyes or perhaps the faint blush coating his cheeks or the way he feels completely limp simply sitting beside you.

“(name)…” he murmurs, releasing your hair and letting his hands now fall on his lap.

“yes?”

shit. the soft tone of your voice makes him feel weak. thank the gods he’s sitting down.

“uhm…” he searches for the right words. no. he shouldn’t do this now, not when one of your siblings could walk in at any moment (and he new drew wasn’t entirely the nicest person either. that girl’s scary as shit). “nothing.”

you murmur an ‘oh’ and your smile falls into a frown.

“sorry, I just- well… it was nothing important, I didn’t think you’d care much.”

“I care about everything you have to say. even if it’s stupid. or one of your stupid dad jokes.” your lips turn upwards a tad at the mere remembrance of his idiotic humor.

“you hate dad jokes.”

“well, yours are okay.”

percy’s heart flutters like butterfly wings. please aphrodite don’t make me look stupid, he thinks to himself. though by now he’s probably already made a fool of himself. he’s hopeless. slowly, with a shaky hand, he reaches out to gently take one of your hands into his. he looks up to meet your eyes to look for any sign of discomfort with the action. he finds nothing.

“(name), have you ever…” he swallows harshly. “have you ever kissed anyone before?”

your brows furrow and you murmur, “no.”

oh. he was sure you had to have kissed someone before. you were… well, you! a favored daughter of aphrodite, kind, absolutely stunning, and admittedly a little horrifying sometimes. he loved you all the same regardless.

“I’ve never kissed anyone either.” it’s silent for a moment before he works up the courage to ask the next question. “would you maybe want to… well actually- can I tell you something?”

“of course.”

“this might be weird and I’ll understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore or if you’ll hate me… but I just… I really like you. more than friends. and I get this is weird but I really like you, it hurts, like in my chest it physically hurts me and it’s hard going everyday not telling you that I love you when I do and its almost unbearable at this point, I mean you occupy all my thoughts everything’s always about you, and don’t get cocky over that because I know you will and you’ll never let me get over telling you that but really what I’m trying to say is that—”

his ramble is abruptly ended when he feels a sudden warmth over his lips. for a moment he can’t understand what’s happening, but when his senses are regained he realizes it’s your lips that are locked with his, and his brain turns to soup, any coherent thought he once had diminished. and he lets himself sink into it despite the nervous storm of butterflies in his tummy.

when you eventually pull away he nearly whines at the loss of contact. though he remembers your hands are still entwined and calms. his gaze sticks on that.

“you talk too much,” you whisper. “and you’re right.”

“about what?” percy looks up to your eyes. though the mischievous glint in them makes him wish he hadn’t asked for clarification.

“I am so never going to let you forget that everything is about me.”

[rivalsispunk]

The Interview (Chapter 1 of ongoing series When We’re Alone)

Best friend’s dad!Declan O’Hara, boss!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader

Journalist Declan O’Hara is in need of a personal assistant as his Corinium career skyrockets, and his daughter Taggie has the perfect candidate: her best friend. What seemingly starts as a professional relationship soon snowballs into something both Declan and reader were never expecting and are no longer able to deny.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (eventual) smut, cursing, age gap romance (reader is a few years older than Taggie), more warnings added per chapter

Word count: 3.1k

Author’s note: Hello! Long time reader, first time poster! Please be kind but also let me know what you think! Proof read but probs still some mistakes. Not entirely canon, Declan still works for Corinium, Maud has disappeared to god knows where and the rest, well, you’ll have to read to find out :)

© rivalsispunk please do not steal, copy, or translate any of my work onto other platforms!

Chapter One: The Interview

You were going to positively kill Taggie once you returned to the Cotswolds. Only she, your closest friend since you relocated to the country after finishing your university degree six months ago, could convince you to cut your gap year short in favour of interviewing for a personal assistant job at Corinium. And, for her father, Declan O’Hara, no less.

“Oh, go on!” Taggie had pleaded with you over The Priory’s kitchen counter. “I know you’re getting bored out here. You can’t spend all of your days sitting around here, helping me peel the shite out of prawns for dinner parties.”

“Why not?” You plucked a grape from the fruit platter she’d just finished assembling for an event at Freddie and Valerie Jones’ that evening. “I happen to like spending all my time with you. Even if it does mean peeling shite out of crustaceans.” You eyed your friend with faux suspicion. “Are you getting sick of me already?”

“Of course not! I just think you’d be grand at it, that’s all, what with your journalism degree and all,” Taggie explained. “You’ve heard Daddy when he comes home. Always complaining about the sorts he’s had to interview. Plus, he already knows you. That’s ought to win you some points right there.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be all bad,” you confessed, mulling the opportunity over as you chewed through another handful of grapes. It would look amazing on your resume and you’d have a foot in the door at one of the biggest TV networks in the United Kingdom. Plus, it wouldn’t kill you to have a front row seat to Declan in all his glory every single day. You would never mention it to Taggie, but you fancied her dad a rather handsome sod.

“Say you’ll do it. At the very least, for me?” Taggie bat her thick eyelashes at you.

“Fine,” you eventually relented, a smile cracking over your face at the new possibility. “I’ll go in for an interview, but no promises. And I don’t want you convincing him of me either! I want to get this job on my own merit, okay?”

“Convince Daddy of you? Please, he already adores you.” The sentiment spread fire through your chest. Tag rounded the kitchen bench and grabbed you by the hand. “Now let’s find you an outfit! Mummy ought to have left something halfway suitable behind.”

Taggie nor Declan had said much about their absentee matriarch Maud in the recent weeks since she fled the countryside after yet another explosive argument between her and her husband. You knew better than to ask, but you could tell by the way Taggie’s shoulders sagged at the sight of her mother’s partially empty closet that her absence had a somber affect on her.

You’d only been into the main bedroom of The Priory once before, when the room was overtaken by Maud’s florally perfumes and extravagant evening gowns. This time, however, the space was so intrinsically Declan; all heady cedarwood and whisky and smoke. Shirts with patterns of plaid and tartan as well as numerous odd, natural-coloured socks were peppered across armchairs and vanities, while a stack of memoirs sat on his bedside with a full ashtray perched atop. Your heart swelled, and sunk simultaneously, at the thought of Declan being sat up here alone at night, or early of a morning, thumbing through a book while taking slow drags of his cigarette as he let himself be consumed by a life far different to the one he was currently living.

“How about this?” Taggie’s voice ripped through your daydream, forcing you away from thoughts of her father. You peered at the oatmeal-coloured dress she had retrieved from the closet, surprised that Maud owned something so…brown. You’d always known her to wear jewel tones that complimented her flaming red hair. You shook your head, and thus began a cycle of Taggie suggesting an outfit and you shooting it down. Eventually, you agreed to Taggie swapping out your creature comfort jeans and Wham! T-shirt for an old black pencil skirt that you were convinced had given you hives from the way your legs hadn’t stopped itching since you put it on, as well as a silky fuchsia blouse that stretched a little too tight over your breasts. While your friend had done a good job at assuring you that you’d fit right in at the Corinium offices, you weren’t as convinced.

The receptionists, all in latest season fashion with not a hair out of place, had looked you up and down as soon as you stepped foot in the marble foyer, snickering behind your back about your fashion fauxpas once you’d checked in. Sarah Stratton wasn’t as covert with her judgement. As you sat outside Declan’s office, waiting to be called in, Sarah outwardly guffawed when she spotted you across the floor. You’d met her several times in passing at parties and Corinium events you’d previously attended as Taggie’s plus one, and for the most part, she’d kept her observations to herself. But now, as her red heels clip across the carpet, her gaze set right on you with her matching rouge lips upturned. “I would never have expected to see you here, darling!” she coos down at you, reaching for a strand of hair that has slipped in front of your shoulder. “And playing dress ups, no less!” Another laugh tinkers out of her as she twirls your hair around her finger. “Interviewing for the assistant job with Declan, hm?”

You nod with a taut smile and try not to let her comment about you looking god-awfully out of place get to you. Sarah’s eyes shift to Declan’s closed mahogany door and tuts. “Well, good luck, sweetheart. Seems like you’ll need it with the way the rest of those interviews have panned out.”

“Oh, hop off it, Sarah!” an unmistakingly Irish voice barks from your left. Sarah jolts upright and despite the embarrassment that tinges her cheeks pink, still manages throw a sultry smile in Declan’s direction. Your posture matches her pin-straight stature as you side-eye his office. It hadn’t occurred to you that he wasn’t inside, preparing for your interview the way you had been all morning. You’d crafted your pitch of yourself perfectly, complete with ideas and suggestions for potential guests for Declan’s show, anything to set you apart, make you seem even a fraction less useless that the interviewees that came before you. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Where’s James?” he questions Sarah, alluding to the very common knowledge that she and her co-host James Vereker are having an affair. Declan makes a show of raking through his moustache - god, that moustache - then adds with a smirk, “James and better. Probably not two words that should be in the same sentence, eh?” Sarah’s smile plateaus at that, and that stiff upper-lip culture she was dying to marry into takes its place.

“I’m sure I can make myself busy, Declan. Got a show to prepare and all that. Ciao!” She doesn’t look at you again and you’re grateful that Declan starts to speak before you bumblefuck your way through the silence.

“Ciao,” he repeats once Sarah’s out of earshot . “Doubt that leech of a woman’s ever had a decent carbonara, let alone stepped foot in Italy.” he says, offering you the first genuine smile you’ve received all day. “Let’s get to it, shall we?” He swings open his office door and holds an arm out. “After you, love.”

“Thanks.”

You shuffle into the room ahead of him, completely oblivious to the way Declan’s eyes are trained on your arse in a skirt that’s familiar to him, but he’s unsure how. Right now, however, he doesn’t care, because it fits your body so magnificently, as if it were made for you. He fights to ignore the dull throb beneath his trousers while he watches you sit, the black fabric pushed to its limits as it stretches across the globes of your arse.

God, has she always been so… womanly? Declan wonders, then immediately chastises himself for leering so openly at his daughter’s best friend. Yes, she was a few good years older than Taggie, and always a beautiful girl, but he was glad his middle child had finally made a friend amid the shitshow that was the move to the country and his crumbling marriage to Maud. He didn’t need to muddy the waters with pervacious thoughts about the young lass’ curves. If only she’d shown up to his office in her usual ripped jeans and George Michael-adorned tees.

“Everything okay, Mr O’Hara? Should I sit somewhere else?” you ask when you notice Declan frozen in the doorway with a furrow etched in his brow. You immediately start second-guessing yourself and wonder if this was a bad idea after all. You can only imagine everyone else who lost out on this job before you faced that same expression. He shakes his head at you, at himself, then busies himself with straightening his maroon tie as he moves to sit behind his desk. You shift in your seat, trying to thwart of the lingering itch Maud’s skirt has buried into the back of your thigh. You think if you can wriggle just so, you can ward it off for at least the main portion of the interview. While you think your subtle movements go unnoticed by Declan because he’s perusing your resume - impressive, he’d earlier noted in black pen beside details of your internship at The Times - he’s been clocked onto your behaviour since he’d laid eyes on you across the office. Scared shitless, and he doesn’t half know that Sarah’s sneaky comments only added to it, thanks to the way you’re fidgeting with that damned skirt mere metres away from him. If Declan had any less sense in him, any less dignity, he’d have half the mind to tear it straight from your body. Of course, he decides against it and tries a less barbaric approach to settle your nerves.

“No band t-shirt today?”

Now it’s your turn for your brows to knit together. “I’m sorry?” Declan nudges his head in the general direction of your chest and your chin dips in response to see what he’s referring to. There, your vision is flanked with fluorescent pink and a tinge of flesh where the silky material doesn’t quite stretch to cover your breasts between buttons, and you silently curse Taggie for allowing you to wear something so borderline revealing at her father’s workplace. Plus, you were surprised he’d even noticed your usual attire.

“I thought it was best I grow up a bit in the clothing department if I were to go for a job at Corinium,” you confess. Declan doesn’t miss the way the swell of your breasts arch against your shirt when you take a deep breath and fold your arms across yourself. “But now I’m thinking the bright pink was a mistake.”

You peer across the expansive wooden desk expectantly, and Declan pitches his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t ask me! Fashion, clearly, is not my strong suit. All I know is, according to my girls, leaving the house with ladders in your tights is a big no-no unless you’re a gothic or Winona Ryder.”

You chuckle at that, even more so for knowing that his youngest daughter, Caitlin, would be all for half-shredded tights.

Declan looks coy as he sips from his tea. “But if it counts for anything, you look lovely.”

“Well, I should hope you think so. These are your wife’s clothes, after all.” Your confession elicits a splutter from the otherwise put together man in front of you. Tea spouts from his lips across the desk, marring your resume and any other papers with brown stains. You immediately spring into action, scanning the room for a towel, handkerchief, anything that could mop up the mess.

“Sorry, love,” Declan says quietly, thumping a fist against his chest. “Wrong pipe.”

That’s when you see it, a pocket square the same colour as his tie poking from his breast pocket. Without thinking, you lurch across Declan’s desk and pluck it from its resting place, and begin soaking up the liquid. Declan ought to help you, it’s his mess after all, but he’s frozen at the view you’ve awarded him as you lean over. Your cleavage fights against the V cut of Maud’s blouse and Declan can just make out the ripple of a black lace bra below the neckline. He can’t even imagine Maud in that outfit. Right now it’s all so you. His cock stirs at the sight and he can’t help the pained groan that bubbles up his throat.

“Stop,” he breathes in barely a whisper. You don’t, of course, you can’t hear him, and you keep wiping at the desk, your breasts bouncing with every swipe up and down.

“Christ, girl, stop it!” Declan explodes, bolting up from his chair. Thankfully, the height of his desk hides his growing bulge, but it doesn’t matter. The look of pure fear painting your face has the same effect as a cold shower. You sink back into your seat and begin spluttering apologies, that you shouldn’t have used his pocket square, that you were out of line and another dozen variations of sorry, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Declan mirrors you by returning to his chair, raking a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he states eventually. “I don’t give a dying rats arse about the pocket square. It’s just… I’m a bloody fool just standing here while you clean up after me. I can’t have you doing that. You don’t even work for me.”

Despite the shock of Declan’s outburst, you manage to muster up a bit of cheek in response. “I don’t even work for you yet,” you correct him.

Your confidence juts Declan’s eyebrows to his curly hairline and a grin cracks across his face. “Cocky little thing, aren’t ya? Go on then.. tell me why I should hire you.”

You spend the next twenty minutes talking Declan through your university studies and experience, the tension from earlier already forgotten. When Declan mentions he once worked with your media law professor, the conversation detours into the pair of you sharing stories about your experiences with the man, far too senile and set in his ways to do the younger generation any good. The rest of the interview carries on like that, you and Declan laughing and exchanging anecdotes like two friends in the pub rather than an employer vetting a potential employee. You’re about to pitch the idea of getting Farah Fawcett on Declan’s show when the office door thumps open to reveal Corinium’s managing director, Tony Baddingham, at its entryway.

“O’Hara! If you’re done with giggling like a little schoolgirl down here, we’ve got a production meeting to get to,” he bites, barely glancing in your direction. You don’t miss the roll of Declan’s tawny eyes as he waves Tony off.

“Alright, Tony. Give me five, I’m just finishing up here,” he says before introducing you by name.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Baddingham,” you tell him, standing to shake his hand. He doesn’t properly look at you until your palms meet, and your spine stiffens when his beady eyes rake over you.

“One of Declan’s assistant candidates, I presume?” he wonders aloud.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, you’re far prettier than some of the other trolls we’ve had roll through here recently.”

“Tony,” Declan warns. The last thing he wants is another man leering at you like you’re a rite of passage for them.

“Right, well, lovely to meet you,” Tony clasps his other hand over the top of yours, careening his neck so he’s at your eye level. “Hope to see you around here. You’ll definitely be a much-appreciated addition.”

Offering a tight-lipped smile, you reserve the urge bawk in his face. You’ve worked with enough Tony Baddinghams to know his interest in you has nothing to do with your professional ability and everything to do with aesthetics. Fucking men.

For the most part, they sickened you and Declan all the same, but for the latter, he was mainly sickened with himself for wanting to pummel Baddingham for the way he was eye-fucking you. But who was he to talk? He’d been doing the exact same thing just minutes earlier.

When Tony leaves the office, he leaves the door ajar, a reminder that Declan is expected elsewhere. You’re about to ask Declan if Tony is always so…Tony, but he’s already got his briefcase in hand and is ushering you towards the door. “I have to admit, I was surprised when Taggie said you wanted to interview for this position, with you being on a gap year and all,” he confessed as you strolled out onto the office floor. “But you know your stuff. You’re bloody intelligent. Passionate. That’s rare these days.”

“Thank you, Mr O’Hara.”

“Please, call me Declan. Here, and at The Priory. Just Declan,” he smiles and you return it.

“Alright, then. Declan.”

“I’ve got to get going, but I’ll let you know about the job. There’s a couple more interviews on the books in the next few days, I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.”

Declan gives you a curt nod, and you start for the elevator, but you barely make it five steps before he calls you back.

“For what it’s worth, I’d be lucky to have ya here. And like I said, you look great, but I prefer the jeans and t-shirts. They’re much more…you.”

His admission sends your heart thrumming against your ribcage, and red creeps up your neck and onto your cheeks. “Thank you, Mr O’Ha- Declan,” you correct yourself. “Thank you, Declan. See you around.” You turn on your patent black heel, leaving Declan standing there with an image that’s bound to haunt him for nights to come: you in that fucking skirt.

Please let me know if you enjoyed this, and if you’re feeling generous, a lil’ reblog won’t go astray <3

[revelboo]

Looking at you with my big ol eyes to politely ask for more Skids whenever you feel in the mood to write for him. That first part was just so gooood I keep thinking about it ;u;

Sure

Hysteria Pt 2

IDW Skids x Reader

• Cringing and almost dropping you as you slump against his servos, still making that awful gagging sound as he runs up the ramp while the others cover him. Looking down, he shudders. “I know you’re really stressed, but if you don’t stop purging, I’m going to be doing it, too. Nobody wants that,” he mutters trying to find someone to hand you off to as the last bot makes it back aboard and Rodimus runs for the bridge. Seeing him staring at them hopefully, everyone backs away from him and you. Wanting nothing to do with the mess or the smell. Awkwardly rubbing a servo against your spine, he roughly clears his vents. “Please, stop? Anyone know how to fix this?”

• Throat raw, you lay your cheek against the giant robots hand and cut your eyes up at him. Because you’d been able to understand him. At least you can ask him what he’s going to do to you, those other aliens either couldn’t understand you or didn’t care. They definitely hadn’t been as gentle as he is. Feeling him rub your back and the unhappy worry in his voice eases some of the terror. He wouldn’t care that you’re upset if he was just going to hurt you, right? “I want to go home.”

• Now Tailgate and Trailbreaker, the only two not driven off by your purging take the opportunity to bail on him, knowing you’re going to have to be told that you can’t go home and wanting no part of it. Cowards. And you can’t go home, at least, not yet and that’s not going to go over well. Glaring at their retreating backs, he uses a servo to nudge your hair away from your face and his servo lingers seeing a nasty yellow bruise on your neck. Is that a bite?Venting softly, he wishes he’d shot more of them. Those tired eyes stare up at him, much calmer. No, resigned. Though he’s pretty sure that’s about to change. “So, about that? We’re on a mission and far from Earth, but I promise I’ll try to get you back.” Eventually. Not wanting to tell you it might be years before that happens.

• Eyes closing, you refuse to start bawling. What good would that do? All you can do is hope his promise is worth something. That he’s kinder than your last captors had been. “You’ve been to Earth. Understand my language.” Not really a question, but if there were giant, alien robots on Earth, wouldn’t you have heard about it? That would have definitely made the news unless it was covered up by the government, which wouldn’t really surprise you. “What are you going to do with me?”

• “You’re safe here, there’s other humans onboard. Er, rescues like you. I guess you’ll stay with me for now. I’m Skids.” Not sure how he feels about having a human to care for as you just look up at him, shockingly calm considering the excitement and terror you’d just gone through. But as your eyes stay closed, still not lifting your head from his hand, he hopes that maybe you’re just too exhausted to be scared. There’s no telling what those aliens had done to you before he’d found you or how long they’d had you. Those coverings you’re wearing don’t look like what little he knows of human fashion. Making him wonder if you’re normally this docile or if you’d been broken. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

• Tired down to your bones, you just lay against his servos. Wanting to believe him. Wanting to be safe, not scared anymore. Not hurt. And more than anything else, wanting to sleep. To forget the pain. Curling yourself into his warm hand, he starts stroking your back again as he walks and even though you hate it, you start softly crying.

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[mwahsturns]

📝 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 - MATT STURNⵊOLO

professor!matt sturniolo x student!reader

Contains: HEAVY smut/oral (female receiving)/fingering/p in v/creampie/swearing/A lot of praise/teasing/flirting/pet names/ unprotected sex/aftercare/fluff. Semi-proof read! And I think that’s it let me know if there’s more.

Synopsis: you’re an 18 year old freshman in college and you’ve always been in love with writing, your whole life you’ve always been hiding behind your books and your writing. You decided you wanted to go to college because you knew you wanted to become something with your writing, you’ve always had big dreams about your work and you knew you could do it. But one day you find out your regular professor had quit his job because of an injury and you were getting a new teacher. What happens when the new professor offers to get you a head making sure you make it where you need to be?, and you end up fucking your new professor.. Mr sturniolo.

Author’s note: i’m doing a collab with @iluvmattsbeard! go check out her version of the reader being the professor! this is my version where Matt is being the professor! i’m so so excited I had the opportunity of working on this with her. she is so so sweet and absolutely talented. i want everyone to show her some love and support because she deserves it! And please enjoy. 💗

* *:･ﾟ✧🏩*:･ﾟ✧

Today has been interesting to say the least, our regular teacher professor Charles quit due to an injury in his knee causing him to have surgery and he probably won’t be able to walk again. I as I walked into the classroom I see I’m the only student here, as I’m putting my stuff down I hear someone walk in.

I swear I felt my heartbeat when I looked behind me, there he was professor sturniolo I only know his name because it’s on his desk but not the point. God he looked so fucking sexy his hair wasn’t messy but it looked so effortlessly fluffy and he had these black glasses that framed his face perfectly, he also had a little blue ish button up shirt but it was slightly opened to where you could see his gold chain. He had some rings on and a watch on his right hand, his beige pants perfectly showed his cock just looking made my mouth water.

Fuck his beard too god this man was a whole walking sex object, I was quickly snapped out of my thoughts by his voice. ‘Hey your early” he says smiling ‘yea I’m always early’ I place my bag on my chair and sit on top of my desk with my leg placed on to of the other one. I noticed him look me up and down and I looked and saw my skirt has lifted a little bit. I was wearing a black and white long sleeve shirt, my cleavage Showing as my necklace sits perfectly on my chest. My skirt was short and plaid with some short sorta see through white socks and some black buckled heals.

‘Cute outfit” he winks and goes to write the agenda on the board, I smile and turn on my heels and sit on my desk and nibble on my pen smirking as I watched him. Eventually everyone started walking into the class and my best friend heather ran over to me and sitting next to me, ‘dude the new professor is so sexy!’ She smiles and as takes her books out, ‘I know we talked this morning’ I smirk as I take a sip of my water. ‘No wonder you’re in the front of the class’ we laugh as we hear professor sturniolo start to speak.

‘Okay guys so as you know professor Charles is out so I’m your new teacher, I’m Mr sturniolo and today’s assessment should be easy you need to write a short story about anything you’d like and share it to the class.’ He smiles and writes it on the board, ‘you guys have the next hour to write it then I’ll have all of you share yours with the class’ oh I got this in the bag I thought as I started writing.

————

The hour is up and he stands in front of the class as he gets ready to announce who goes first, I feel him starting at me as he starts to smirk. ‘You first’ he smirks as he tilts his head looking deeply into my eyes, ‘’me?’ I say confused. ‘Your names Y/n isn’t it?’ He says sassily, ‘yes sir it is’ I say with the same amount of sas ‘well then the floors yours’ he smiles and sits at his desk. I grab my paper and walk the the front of the class flatting my shirt as I begin to read, ‘We shall start with a secret couple, their names is professor Lucas, and a student named Sophia. The two are secretly in love but has yet to expose it to the world so let’s dive deep into their life styles before things get intimate…’ I say smiling as I continue to read.‘Sofia is a very pretty girl, amazing personality, great style, she is a phenomenal actress and she has a great judge of Character and if we need to speak about her body we can say that she has some amazing ideal curve and her face sits perfectly.

‘Professor Lucas is a great guy with amazing humor and he does a phenomenal job at teaching, (that’s what turns Sophia on) he cares for his class and he truly is the person you couldn’t hate even if you tried. Jumping in Sophia walks into lecture hall, looking a little bit more Expensive or extravagant, she is wearing her Golden necklace that says her name in a cursive writing a white button up long sleeve crop top tied at the bottom with a tripled white skirt and some white heals. (she truly loves the color white, she feel it enhances her look more) as sophia Is carrying her books, Professor Lucas takes notice and says ‘ah Ms Raven, please have a seat in the front for me.’ He says pointing out the seat closes to him smiling. Sophia walks down to take a seat and sets her notebooks down and gets her Mac-book out of her bag to place it elegantly on her desk.

Professor looked down and said ‘good morning sweetheart, why are you late?’ As Sophia looks up into his amazing beautiful emerald eyes and smiled saying ‘I woke up late sir’ she knows calling him Sir makes him feel respected and satisfied, ‘hmm see me after class young lady…’ as he continues the lecture. As the day goes on classes come to an end, which reminds Sophia to go meet with professor. As she arrived she placed a firm knock on the door and patiently waited for him to come and answer, in less than a minute the professor answered the door and said ‘Ms raven please come in’ as he smiled looked outside the door before closing it too lock it. He looked at her with a romantic expression. ‘I want us to get intimate, we’ve been kissing secretly hanging out for a while but now, I want to show you that I’m ready for another step and that is showing you that I want to dominate you and show you how much I love you in a different way’ ‘I’d figure you’d get the hook’ the professor looks confused when she says that and says ‘what do you mean?’ As he steps a little closer toward her, ‘I mean I’ve been wearing the slutty things to lure you in or to make you want to fuck me, I wanted to show you that I’m ready for the next step but I was just to afraid to ask.’

The professor steps closer to her them almost touching noses as he says ‘Mama you don’t gotta be nervous or afraid, if you want me to give it to you just ask me. I won’t even hesitate’ professor says as he slowly cuffed her Chin and pulled her into an intimate kiss inhaling deeply as it escalated.

Sophia continues the kiss for a few more moments before breaking it wrapping her hand in his tie, ‘I want you’ sounding a little breathless turning the professor on more. ‘I know you do baby’ the professor said gently brushing his hand down the side of her face, ‘lay down, and open your legs for me’ Sophia proceeds to do so as the professor smiled and watched, As she finished doing what he asked he then spoke ‘good girl’ as he then walked closer to her then sliding his fingers up her inner thigh to tease her already wet pussy. he rubbed his thumb around her clitoris teasing even more before gently sliding off her white see through lingerie panties. He took off his shirt revealing his soft skin and muscular chest.

sniffing the panties and throwing them to the side, he licked his middle and ring finger before rubbing her clitoris once again before loosing his belt and took of his cargo baggy black jeans revealing his huge cock print in his underwear. he took her hand and rubbed it around his print moaning and groaning a little. And just know you aren’t going nowhere….’ As I finished reading this class started clapping, I look at Matt to see him smirking arms crossed god he looks perfect.

‘Great job mrs L/N and um can you see me after class?’ I smiled and nodded my head as I walked back to my seat.

———-

Class ended and I’m packing up my stuff as I hear heather start talking, ‘girl your paper was so good like ugh i felt the emotion and I think professor sturniolo liked it too’ she winks putting on her backpack. ‘Who knows but I’ll see you after?’ ‘Duh ofc you will’ I laugh putting on my backpack, soon everyone leaves and I walk up to the professors desk. ‘You wanted to speak with me?’ I say smiling, ‘yea I did um your writing is so excellent your a very talented young lady’ he smiled leaning forward on the desk. ‘Well it is my specialty’ I smirk ‘mmh we’ll keep up the good work’ he smiles packing up his stuff ‘Will do!’ I laugh as I leave his class.

professor Sturniolo has been here for about two weeks now and to say I’ve got him wrapped around my finger is an understatement to say the least, he’s has been favoriting me for weeks now always giving me extra credit and pushing back deadlines for me I didn’t think anything of it until now.

‘Girl he’s so into you!’ Heather says as we enter the empty class, ‘I don’t know..’ I mean if that was true god it would fuel my sexual fantasies so much. ‘I’m telling you it’s a matter of time before he fucks you’ heather and I take our seats up front as professor sturniolo walks in, ‘good morning Y/N morning heather’ he says giving me this irresistible look that makes me just want him ‘Good morning’ I smile.

As I’m writing our notes for an essay coming up in feel him walk up to my desk as he wisphers in my ear ‘see me after class’ he says as he walks back to his desk. I can’t lie that did make me aroused I know it’s wrong but it also feels right.

————

As everyone left the class I see the smirk growing on his face as the class grows empty. Once the class is completely empty he stands up from his chair and leaned his back against his desk as his arms were crossed, ‘you know you’re a very special young lady..’ ‘mmh you think’ I smirk teasing him a little. ‘I do.. very much the work you’ve turned in has been exceptional your writing style is remarkable..” he walks over to my desk and leans down to my ear. ‘And i must say you’re a very beautiful girl..”

‘Thank you, I appreciate it’ I smile as he basically towers over me, ‘so you got a boyfriend?’ He says as he runs his hand through my hair ‘no.. what about you got a girlfriend or a wife?’ I say looking up at him. ‘Oh no it’s just me’ I mentally take note of that even though it shouldn’t matter to me ‘look your very talented and happen to be very beautiful and I want you to be more than just a basic writer you can be so much more’ he says sitting on the desk next to me ‘I know I’ve always believed I can do it I just wasn’t even sure how to start’ honestly I’m lying I know exactly why he’s saying all of this but I just wanna see how far he’ll take things.

‘Well how about this .. you help me and I’ll make sure you get right where you need to be’ he smirks ‘okay but how will I help you?’ I already know what he wants I just wanna tease him a little I’ve seen way to many teacher and student movies and books to not know. ‘What if you let me teach you a few things mmh? Fuck I can’t lie that did make me a little wet ‘mmh like what?’ I tease standing in his face, next thing I know I’m picked up and placed on his desk.

‘Let me please you..’ he says kissing my neck harshly. I can’t deny as the kiss gets longer the more I’m starting to crave more. He started kissing lower down my neck placing open mouthed kisses onto my breast, i tugged on his hair as his hand slid down into my skirt. ‘Well look at that my perfect student getting all wet for her professor huh such a slut..’ he says as he pulls down my skirt and my underwear harshly.

I bite my lip as I see him spit on his fingers I don’t know what has gotten into me but right now I need him in me, he takes his fingers and slide them into my dripping pussy as he gives me no time to adjust he fingers me very rough.

‘Oh my- fuck’ I moan throwing my head back biting my lip, ‘mmh feels good doesn’t it? He looks like a kid in a candy store the way he’s looking at my vagina right now. ‘fuck yes.’ He smiles at my response and stands up pulling his pants and boxers off and holy shit he’s fucking big.

‘That’s supposed to fit in me?!’ I actually am now kinda nervous, ‘mmh I’ll make it fit’ he walks back over to the desk and pulls my legs forward and now I’m laying down on his desk legs wide open how the fuck did I get here?. He slides into me and I swear to god I saw stars fuck he felt so good, ‘fuck your so tight’ he moaned pounding into me like he was getting a fucking pay check.

‘Oh fuck sir omg..’ I moaned maybe a little too loudly, ‘fuck-please call me Matt’ he tried to say as he let out a choked groan. God his name makes this 10x hotter. ‘Fuck Matt I’m so close’ I moan, ’yea cum on this dick baby’ his thrust getting faster but more deeper.

‘Fuck I’m gonna cum!’ I screamed ‘me too baby let it out mama’ he moaned as I came all over his dick and I felt his warm cum fill me. ‘Fuck you did so good for me’ he smiled kissing my lips softly, ‘I don’t think I can walk..’ ‘it’s okay I’ll clean you up’ he walks to his desk and gets a rag and wipes both of us down. Once were cleaned up and I’m standing he walked up to me and smiled. ‘Well I guess I’ll be fucking you more often huh?’ I smiled ‘oh definitely’.

I smiled and walked out of the classroom fuck he better give me a good grade for that.

A/n: I hope you enjoyed plus Don’t hate this is my first smut ever so I’m so so sorry if it’s bad pls leave some tips in my inbox!

Taglist!

@iluvmattsbeard @m9ttsverse

(COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED ONTO MY TAG LIST!)

[gloomwitchwrites]

I wish to see how each of the 141 boys respond to their ex, reader, calling them for emotional support bc readers newest bf was toxic af

bonus points if 141 boys are still possessive over reader, but doesn't do anything besides telling reader to leave her toxic bf. OR ORRR he's possessive bc him and reader have been together for so long, who would know how to treat her better than him? He knows every little detail she cares about, every little action that makes her fall head over heels in an instant. Her toxic bf? He doesn't care to learn about those types of things, even if reader outright says it

EVEN MORE BONUS POINTS for smut to show reader what a quick fuck of satisfaction looks like vs genuine sex / love making

Apologies, Anon. This has been sitting in my inbox for…a while, but I’ve been thinking about it off and on since you’ve sent it in.

I’ll drop some HC’s about how this would go down but I absolutely want to explore this further as part of the Imagines & What If Series.

I'll tackle these separately and make them individual one-shots (with much more detail) once I wrap up the By the Belt prompt. But for now...enjoy my HC's (if you will) on what I think would go down in this scenario.

The official masterlist for the extended fics can be found HERE.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Content & Warnings: suggestive themes (it's vague), brief mentions of protective/possessive behavior, canon-typical swearing

John Price

Breakup status: Strained (at first), but settled into friendship.

Absolutely hates texting, and you know if you need to reach him immediately, you have to call. Price isn’t an old man, he’s just the old man of the group, and would absolutely be tech literate but also super picky on how he communicates with people personally. It’s Price’s job to be calm, to be a leader, and pick up on things others don’t necessarily notice. So, Price would know you’re upset with your current boyfriend without you even having to spell it out. Besides, Price hates the guy, and knows he’s not worth even a lob of spit.

Plus, Price has been wanting to get back with you for ages. Now that the two of you are friends and have repaired whatever it is that separated the two of you in the first place, Price is looking to find a way to move in again, to slowly (or quickly) win you back, and now he has the opportunity.

Price insists on talking in person, and the moment the two of you are together, he makes the effort he knows you’re needing—because he wants you back, but also because he knows you better than your current boyfriend. Price doesn’t understand why you even gave the guy a chance, but he’ll do everything to get you back.

He would start with subtle indications eventually moving the conversation into past memories, reminiscing on happier times when you were his woman, and how that felt. It slowly devolves until you’re admitting first that you still miss him, and Price goes in for the kill, stating clearly that he still has feelings for you.

The final act is passionate, rough, and intense. Like an atom splitting, it is explosive.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Breakup status: mutual (away all the time; hard to make it work)

When you call, on the verge of tears, needing to talk to someone, Gaz immediately knows something is wrong the moment he picks up. (Sorta like Price but more attuned emotionally to the situation).

I can see Gaz not being a fan of chatting for long periods on the phone, so you don’t even need to ask, Gaz will drop everything and come to you without you having to suggest it. In fact, Gaz picks up, realizes your upset, and immediately says he’s coming over.

When he arrives, it’s like the two of you have never been apart. It’s almost routine, completely natural the way the two of you come together. Gaz is very much about physical affection. He’s constantly touching you, comforting you, and saying sweet things that always make you melt.

Totally knows you need a distraction, and while you’re upset, you’re having a difficult time expressing yourself. When this happens, Gaz just shuts it down, guiding you toward distraction to help you calm down and ease your mind before probing to see if you want to return to the topic.

Once that happens, game over for boyfriend. He’s lost you to Gaz.

The reunification is absolutely passionate and soft. I will die on that hill.

John “Soap” MacTavish

Breakup status: Messy. (You cannot tell me Soap isn’t a hot mess. Our boy is a little too high energy at times.)

While the breakup between the two of you is messy, Soap has always been a “safe” person for you. So, when you call him to vent, you don’t realize that Soap immediately starts heading in your direction until he knocks on your door and the two of you stand there staring at each other, phones held up to your ears. It’s an impulsive decision on his end to come to you, but you don’t turn him away.

Like Simon, Soap would be forward in the way he addresses your concern and the issues—which is your shitty boyfriend who deserves to only be known as your ex. However, where Simon is more of a blunt “these are the facts” kind of communicator, Soap will go for the jugular, using harsher language about this “boyfriend.” He won’t be critical of you, but he will be overly critical of him, listing all the ways this idiot doesn’t deserve you. He might even grow a bit heated in tone and pitch, becoming creative with his slang, and his accent might thicken slightly especially if he’s going off.

But ultimately, Soap is defending you, and reiterates the need for you to stand up for yourself and get rid of this loser.

I don’t think anything passionate would happen in that moment. But I could also see Soap in the middle of him criticizing your toxic boyfriend, you shutting him up with a kiss. Now…that could easily go sideways with someone like Soap. He’s very much impulsive at times, and I think that would win out. Soap would totally kiss you back and not allow you to pull away from him again until you’re…satisfied.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Breakup status: Tumultuous, eventually mellowing to mutual understanding afterward.

Would listen to you rant without interrupting. He would not ask any clarifying or follow up questions.

When you have it all out of your system, his response is simple: break up with him. Simon is direct—could even say blunt depending on the situation, and he would absolutely be that way in this scenario.

He makes it clear that you’re obviously not happy and that the relationship is making you miserable. He might even lay it out plainly, stating only the facts, sliding into that mindset when he’s in the field, thinking about all scenarios and problem-solving while doing so.

Internally, he’s absolutely ecstatic that your current boyfriend is a garbage heap of a human being. He will see this as an opportunity to slip right back into your life if he plays this right. Sure, the two of you aren’t together anymore, but he’s not over it. Simon is possessive and territorial to the core. Totally still considers you his.

Will absolutely make up a reason to come over, and it will likely fall under the “I’m looking out for you” or “trying to protect you from him” insisting that your boyfriend could escalate and he won’t allow you to potentially be in harm’s way.

When he arrives, Simon immediately turns soft and attentive in just the way you like. He gives you his full attention, doesn’t lecture, and offers plenty of physical touch.

The physical touches turn…well, I’ll save that for the full fic. But it is a reminder of how you’ve always been his and you just need to realize it.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @miaraei

[obito-in-disguise]

| Bedtime fluff with the jjk men |

Featuring: Satoru Gojo, Geto Suguru, and Nanami Kento.

Satoru

You sighed as you pushed through your front door, trudging your tired body across the foyer into the living room. Work was tough today and you wanted nothing more than to hop into bed right now, preferably with your cuddly boyfriend, Satoru.

“Evening baby, what took you so long?” Satoru asks from his spot on the living room couch, his six eyes notifying him of your presence before you even stepped into the house. “Work was shit today, plus the bus was 15 minutes late” Satoru sighs, tugging you to sit on the couch before pulling you into his arms. You basically melt into his touch, his comforting warmth making the stress dissipate from your body like melting snow.

“You know, my offer to pick you up from work everyday still stands” Satoru hums as he rests his chin on the top of your head. His statement causes you to scrunch up your face, “you already have a lot on your plate Toru, I wouldn’t want to burden you” “nonsense! It would be fun, it’ll be like carpooling.” He explains animatedly, already excited about the idea. “oh and Suguru can come too!” “I’m pretty sure Suguru would rather die Satoru, but sure” you chuckle at his enthusiasm before patting his paintbrush like hair.

“Great! Let’s get you to bed then” He announces, scooping you up as he strides to the bedroom with his long limbs. “Gosh Satoru! A little warning would be nice first” you playfully glare at him as you clutch his clothes for dear life, your heart beating from his sudden actions. He merely laughs at you as he reaches the bedroom, setting you down and heading into his closet to find you something to wear to sleep.

You use the opportunity to freshen up in the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later wrapped in a fluffy towel. “thanks toru” you mumble as you change into the shirt he laid out for you, giggling when you catch him sneaking peeks at you as you change. “stop staring perv” “hey! You can’t do that in front of me and expect me not to look” he scoffs as he grabs your arm and tugs you onto the bed, wrapping his long limbs around you like a snake. You try to shove him away a little but eventually give up when he only tightens his hold in response. “sleep princess, I’ll be here when you wake up” he whispers uncharacteristically softly, that was all the charge you needed to doze off into dreamland, Satoru following after you not long after.

Suguru

“Just try it” “no” “please sugu!” “no Y/N” he mocks your whiny tone as he chuckles, watching you hold out a face mask you’ve been begging him to try on with you for the past eight minutes. “I thought you loved me” you scoff, folding your arms. “you’re going to question my love for you over a face mask?” “yes! Because if you truly loved me then you would do it” he rolls his eyes before grabbing the face mask from you hands and examining it skeptically “fine but no pictures” “aw but you look so cute in face masks” he scoffs and moves to drop the facemask back but you laugh and quickly grab his hands “ok ok deal”.

“how long do we have to keep it on” Suguru asks exasperatedly, his fingers prodding at the itchy mask as you two now sit on the bed tangled in each other’s limbs. You swat at his fingers to prevent him from messing up the mask which earns you a warning glare. “Just a couple more hours” “WHAT” “I’m only kidding Sugu, just thirty minutes more” “like that’s any better” he mumbles throwing his head back onto the pillow dramatically. A few minutes go by and while you’ve been mindlessly scrolling through your phone, Suguru has been tossing and turning dramatically, hoping to get your attention and make you feel bad for putting him in this predicament.

“Stop being such a baby suguru” you roll your eyes as you watch him turn childishly for the umpteenth time. “wow that’s your response to your husband being in pain?”

“he’s not in pain” you dismiss him, dropping your phone and untangling yourself from him to head to the bathroom. Suguru sits up and watches you curiously “where are you going Y/N” “To get something to take your mind of the mask” your muffled voice replies as you emerge a few seconds with his hair oiling kit.

You sit on the bed once more, your back resting against the headboard “sit” you tell him gesturing to between your legs. He grins as he happily obliges “now this is what I’m talking about” you chuckle at his insistent hate for the face mask as you watch him settle between your legs, his head resting against your torso and his palms gripping your thighs.

You begin oiling and massaging his scalp causing him to let out little hums and noises of satisfaction, not even minutes later the noises stop and his body grows slack. You chuckle as you lean over his head to see him fast asleep, you wait a couple minutes more before pulling the facemask off his face and gently dislodging yourself to lie beside him. You hold him in your arms as you reach over to turn the bedside lamp off, kissing his forehead as you bid him goodnight in an unheard whisper.

Kento

You lay sprawled out on Nanami’s body, your chin propped up on his chest as you observed him read his book which was his usual night time routine. Occasionally, Kento would glance at you and reach his hand out to stroke your cheek softly, his little way of making sure you weren’t bored. He did this even though you assured him multiple times that his handsome face was more than enough to entertain you.

“Ken” “Yes my love?” “I just realized….” Kento raises his eyebrows as you trail off, dropping his book to give you his undivided attention. “you realized what sweetheart?” “I just realized you’re a blondie” you muse, your hands reaching up to feel his soft blonde hair.

He stares at you for a few seconds before shaking his head, laughing softly “that’s not a bad thing is it love?” “absolutely not, its adorable” he hums, his fingers reaching out to stroke your soft cheek again “well as long as you find it redeeming then I’m more than happy to be a ‘blondie’” You chuckle as your fingers begin to card through his hair in a rhythm now, stroking the soft locks that are usually pushed back during the day “we should get you pink hairclips to match the aesthetic” “of course sweetheart, you can use my card”.

You huff out a laughter as you retract your hands from his hair, resting your cheek against his chest now as your exhaustion began to catch up on you. “that easily?” kento pats your head before putting a bookmark in the page he was reading, deciding he was done for the night “there isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do for you my love” he whispers softly as he pulls you closer, his hands moving down to draw gentle patterns on your back.

Your eyes flutter open as you quickly respond sleepily “I would do a lot for you too ken” He chuckles at your barely coherent sleep laced sentence, his hands moving to slip under your shirt to enable him skin to skin contact. You hum appreciatively as you fall more and more asleep, his hands always knowing exactly what to do to lull you to sleep. He places a soft kiss in your hair before reaching over to turn off the light. “Goodnight sweetheart”.

Am I the only one that loves reading fluff bedtime scenarios before I go to bed? Anyways, here is some jjk bedtime fluff while I write part two of my Itachi arranged marriage series. I will definitely do more scenarios in the future with more characters, the next one might be angst like an argument because I'm addicted to hurt to comfort, please send help.

Enjoyed the story? Check out more of my other Jujutsu Kaisen fics and more stories! Requests are open! and don't forget to leave a like, comment or reblog pookie♡

[sixosix]

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO | LYNEY

notes wc 3.9k lyney pov back again babyyy (and he’s acting a little crazy) 🫶 enjoy the chapter!

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Lyney hasn't uttered a single word on the way back to their house. Not a single word, but he doesn’t need to. It shows, anyway—the skip on his steps, the ever-present smile seemingly stuck on his face, and a glow in his eyes that no one has seen before.

Lynette must have caught it, too. She keeps glancing at him, suspicious.

Damage control wasn’t all that difficult when you’re well-loved by the people of Fontaine. They were out searching for Lyney, demanding refunds if they were going to discontinue, but they were appeased eventually. Lyney and Lynette resumed the show, apologized for the emergency, and the audience was won back by their enthusiasm and charm (and lies).

Still, Lynette pushes on with her stern words.

“That was careless, Lyney.” She locks the door. “Everyone was watching.”

Lyney prepares two cups of tea, dancing around the kitchen to boil water. “You know exactly why I did it.”

Lynette sits on a chair and watches him. Her gaze expresses more than her face sometimes. “I know. But I won’t let you escape from dealing with the backlash.”

Lyney smiles. “If anything, I should be saying that to you.”

His dear sister huffs, turning away. “So it was them I saw by the alley… I recognized the Traveler right away, but I found it strange that there was a familiar figure pressed up close against him.”

Lyney makes a face. He doesn’t want to imagine that—he might break something, and Freminet is an expert, but not when it comes to teacups.

Lyney breathed in deeply, letting the muffled cheers from the other side of the curtain fill his ears. His sister settled beside him, her expression troubled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Do you not feel like performing today?”

“No,” Lynette said. “I thought I saw something strange on the way here.”

That was alright. That meant Lynette wasn’t too nervous if she was letting her mind wander.

“Oh?” he said. Lyney looked for his hat, finding it underneath the stool he was on. Ah, Rosseland must have crawled in and put it there.

“I thought I saw the Traveler,” Lynette said, “in an alley doing something…” 

Oh my, Lyney mused in his head.

“With Y/N,” Lynette continued.

All at once, the noise became like streaming water. He didn’t hear Lynette calling for him. He didn’t hear her say she was most likely mistaken. His mind was blank the moment he heard your name.

It was a touchy subject.

She tapped his shoulder. “Lyney.”

“Haha,” Lyney said, choking on his own lies. “Have your eyes finally deceived you, dear sister?”

Lynette looked at him worriedly.

“And with the Traveler, really?” Lyney scoffed, moving his hat to his head. “I’m afraid it might’ve just been lookalikes getting handsy and couldn’t wait to get home.”

But the thought of it… Lyney scowled and looked at himself in the mirror, finding his own expression terrifying. He really needed to work on that.

Lynette has a ghost of a smile on her lips as Lyney spaced out, the devil.

“Y/N told us not to tell ‘Father’,” she recalls, casually, as if that isn’t the biggest source of Lyney’s headache at the moment. “What will you do?”

Lyney pauses, his hands hovering over a jar of sugar cubes, his back turned to his sister. “We’ve yet to hear news from ‘Father’, right?”

Lynette won’t be able to tell the expression he’s making, but she knows him well enough to figure out what he’s thinking. “Yes.”

Lyney hums, grinning. “I’ll be taking this opportunity.”

His sister has that same look backstage. Her eyes flicker to him, then return back to the table as if unsure of voicing her thoughts. Instead, she says, “What if Y/N doesn’t want to stay?”

“I’ll just clear up misunderstandings, at least! Maybe then, she’ll want to stay.” Lyney presses his palms against the table, looking at Lynette with a gleam in his eye. “I’ll tell her that I never wanted to be the next king. I’ll tell her the truth.”

Lynette’s brows furrow. “It wouldn’t be that simple.”

The water simmers. Lyney’s face is terrifyingly blank, not like the spitfire of his words as he says, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Lynette leans back, still frowning. She looks mildly startled. Lyney must have been making a scary face again. He clears his expression and forces a smile.

A tuneful beat on the door cuts through the tension rising in the room. It swings open and reveals a frazzled blond.

“Freminet!” Lyney greets, his shoulders loosening. “Let me also prepare tea for you.”

“How was it?” Lynette asks as their brother nearly sinks to the seat as if prepared to melt against it.

Freminet sighs heavily, world-weary. “I didn’t really hear anyone talking about anything else about your show. They were all chattering about your last trick. The one outside the Epiclese—with the fireworks?”

“Good,” Lyney resists the urge to pat himself on the back. “It seems the diversion has worked. Though, we still have to be perfectly sure.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Lynette mutters.

“Why the sudden notice, anyway?” Freminet mumbles, pressing his face against the glass table. “Did something happen?”

“Y/N was at the show.”

The only sound that fills the room is the whistling kettle. Lyney wordlessly pours it into the three cups and hands them to his siblings, one already preparing her tea and the other looking like he hasn’t quite taken in what Lyney said. 

“What!” Freminet stands up from his chair, utterly gobsmacked. “Where? I thought—”

Lyney stares at the cup of boiling water that nearly spilled over from Freminet’s outburst. “Careful, now. That will burn you,” he chides, yet his expression is serene.

Lyney doesn’t even need tea. It looks like the tea would do nothing when he’s already acting like the Sevens have blessed him personally.

Lynette prepares Freminet’s tea for him as Freminet continues, “At—at the show? Is that why you were asking if anyone was talking about it?”

Lynette slides Freminet’s tea over to him. “Mhm. We were making sure no one would harm Y/N while she was in Fontaine. Lyney already made up an excuse, but some people might not believe it.”

“While in Fontaine?” Freminet falters, sipping on his tea. “Y/N’s not staying?”

“Afraid not,” Lyney says bitterly. “She’s working under Master Childe now, and he never stays in one place too long. It’s a miracle he took a pit stop here.”

“It’s strange,” Lynette wonders thoughtfully. “I thought I heard Master Childe is here for something personal.”

“Maybe Y/N became Master Childe’s personal recruit,” Freminet supplies. “Y/N’s really strong.”

Lyney’s face scrunches up. He changes the subject swiftly. “Freminet, do you want to meet up with Y/N? You were her first friend, right?”

“With whom?” Freminet asks suspiciously.

“With me!” Lyney beams, a flourish with his gesture. “I invited Y/N over to spar with me outside the city. Just like old times, no?”

“No thanks.” Freminet’s expression turns haunted. “I don’t want to be alone with you and Y/N. I always feel like I’m intruding.”

“He just gets too handsy and can’t wait to get home, doesn’t he?” Lynette chimes in. “That's why I don't watch, either.”

Freminet doesn’t understand it, but Lyney’s face explodes in a blush.

“Hey!” Lyney huffs. “Suit yourself. I’ll tell Y/N you skipped out on a reunion.”

Freminet smiles. “Tell Y/N I missed her a lot, and she should come visit us.”

Lyney sighs, because he can never even pretend to be furious when Freminet is simply too sweet. He ruffles Freminet’s hair, toppling over his beret. “Alright,” he says fondly, “I’ll pass the message.”

Lynette waves. “Don’t have too much fun, now.”

THEN

Things became a lot more tense when you left.

Freminet and Lynette were devastated when Lyney told them that you stormed off. His arm felt as numb as what he was feeling at the time, and to think that it was all you left for him. He didn’t tell anyone else anything, but the rest of them got the gist of it when you didn’t appear the next day or the day after that.

Most of the orphans didn’t care; in fact, some had the gall to look relieved when rumors of your transfer began floating around. When Lyney heard one about how you must’ve died sneaking off to another mission, he snapped. He yelled and told them that they didn’t know anything—they never bothered to know who you were. They didn’t have the right to talk if they were only there to stain your name.

Lyney bore the brunt of it. Anyone could tell he was hurt by it the most.

Once, after Lyney was told off for mouthing off, Lynette found him in the far corner of the training room, his knees tucked to his chest and his eyes stormy.

Lynette sat down beside him and stared ahead. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Don’t be too harsh on yourself, Lyney.”

Lyney glared at the floor. “I’m not mad at myself. I’m not the one who left.”

Lynette turned to him, surprised. “You’re mad at Y/N?”

He sat up straight and exhaled sharply. “She got a Vision. That’s what she always wanted, to become ‘Father’s successor. Now that she can have it, she runs.”

“Maybe that's not what she really wanted.”

“That's what she hated me for,” Lyney clarified.

“You don’t really hate her, do you? Did you think it was only right for you to hate her because she did to you? I can tell when you’re lying straight through your teeth, Lyney.”

Lyney didn’t say anything in reply because he knew everything that would come out would just be a lie. But when it came to Lynette, his silence was louder than words.

“Y/N will be back. This is her home, too.” Lynette said softly. “Come on, wipe that look off your face.”

Lyney blinked, desperately wiping away whatever expression he didn’t even know he was making.

“I didn’t think it was true,” Lynette said offhandedly. What a turn of events, to have Lynette talk more than Lyney. At his impatient frown, she clarified, “I noticed that you can never control your expressions well when it comes to Y/N.”

Lyney wasn’t sure if Lynette pointed it out to rub on Lyney’s face that what he felt was real, or to remind him that fragile things like emotions in their line of work are a weakness. Maybe it was both. It was his first mistake to be curious and end up falling face-forward for you—and now he ended up like this, furious for reasons he couldn’t understand.

It didn’t take long before ‘Father’ stopped mentioning you, before the orphans acted like you never existed, and before your existence felt like just a secret shared between the three.

It took a year for them to realize that this was no longer your home. You never returned.

Lyney speeds past fields of grass. He had taken the long route, circling around; he didn’t want to deal with anyone recognizing him—he was already running a little late. When he sees your figure, standing still underneath the bridge for Aquabuses overhead, he feels his chest glow.

You’ve shed off the large skirt and now wore a simple dress, smeared with dirt on the edges. Lyney wants to reach out and dust it off, to fix it for you. But Lyney is also getting a feeling that he shouldn’t ruin the picture you’ve made for yourself.

“Hey,” Lyney says, and he was fully expecting it when your arm lashed out and aimed right at his face. He grins at your stunned expression. “I still just want to talk first.”

“Sorry,” you say, flinching away. “I was in deep thought.”

Lyney settles beside you, hoping to ease you into his presence. There is nothing special about the view. It was just water for miles, architecture that stretched over to the next island, and the sunset. He much prefers it when he looks at you.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Lyney, listen.” You fidget nervously. “About Lord Tartaglia… I didn’t actually know where he was. I was just—I didn’t—”

“That makes sense.” Lyney nods thoughtfully. He thinks back to all the rumors he’s heard before about the man. “I've heard that Master Childe likes doing things on his own. And I'm glad you were just taken to another faction.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Yeah, right.”

“Wait, don’t tell me,” Lyney gasps. Your shoulders stiffen, and Lyney just knew he hit the jackpot. “Master Childe doesn’t even know you’re following him! Why are you following him?”

Were you actually his personal subordinate? Was Freminet right?

“Why am I—” Your jaw goes slack, perhaps in awe of his deduction skills. “You know what, never mind. Let’s stop talking about Lord Tartaglia.” And that title, too. Did Master Childe make his subordinates call his Lordship that? “What did you call me here for, Lyney?”

“I just wanted to catch up, like what we’re doing now.”

“Great.” You clap your hands. “We’ve caught up. I’ve got other things to do, you know.”

Lyney smiles instead. “Would you like to spar?”

Your gaze is intense, yet far away. “If you want,” you cede, which isn’t a blatant yes, but Lyney knows it’s one.

“It is an honor,” he says.

You frown. “Are you trying to do something?”

“Can’t the reason just be that I missed this? That I missed doing this with you?”

“...Fine.”

Your gaze sharpens, and you charge straightaway. Lyney moves his arm just in time; it still stings, just as he remembers. but it doesn’t hurt as bad now. In the same breath, you swipe again, your polearm spinning in that same hypnotizing circle as you strike at him. Lyney swerves aside or blocks it off each time, unaware of the crazed grin on his face.

He shoots off three different arrows, waiting for the perfect moment while you’re deflecting them. As always, you move with ease, flowing through your movements like Lyney would be wrong to disrupt it.

As a kid, he could watch in awe as you get to do cool moves, but now, Lyney just appreciates the way your piercing gaze cuts through him and how you nearly beckon him with your body. Try, if you dare.

Lyney doesn’t want to show off; he wants to catch you off guard. He performs the same trick as last time—he disappears and materializes from thin air to your back. It doesn’t work, as he expected, but you’re now wary of his weapon.

Lyney blows a little air to your ear; you yelp and flutter away from him. Lyney uses this opportunity to hold your polearm down with his free arm. He flicks his hand and traps your back onto his chest with an arrow to your neck.

“What the hell?” You breathe sharply, your throat brushing against the shaft of his arrow, “I don’t think this is how you use an arrow.”

“How am I supposed to win without a little bend to the rules?”

You frown at him, your face upside down in his view. “That was unfair.”

“I have to be if I want to beat you.”

You laugh. Lyney feels the shake of your body pressed against him, and he’s entranced. He wants this, over and over again—you could numb him until he can’t breathe, and still, he wouldn’t let this go.

You’re glowing. This is exactly what Lyney wanted to see. If you were still keeping a wall up, then he would have to keep talking your language.

You tap his arm twice. Lyney loosens his grip and tries to calm himself. If you turn to look at him, you’d laugh for an entirely different reason—his face is too red. He decides to pick your weapon up instead but pauses at the sight of it. It looks old. It’s to the point where it shouldn’t even be used.

Lyney realizes it looks strangely familiar. “Is this the same one from the House?”

You stretch your arms. “Oh, that? Yeah, I still use it.”

“That’s dangerous.” Lyney grabs your hand and studies the red scratches on your palm. It’s littered with scars.

You tug your hand away. “That’s just because I was handling flowers—some of them have nasty thorns, you know.“

Lyney lifts an eyebrow. “Really, now? I’m getting you a new one.”

“What— It was actually from flowers! And I don’t want to owe you anything.”

“That’s sweet,” Lyney says breezily, mentally filing through connections he might have to gift you the perfect weapon—so perfect that you couldn’t resist. “I’ll get you a new one. Does Master Childe not provide equipment for his recruits?”

“Fine, suit yourself. It’s your money.”

Lyney grins. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“But let me keep it,” you say, reaching for it. “That polearm still means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Lyney smiles and tosses it back to you. “So you work for Master Childe? Is that why you and the Traveler are close?”

Your face scrunches in confusion. “You ask too many questions. Mind your own Harbinger, will you?”

“That was your ‘Father’, too.”

The atmosphere goes a little cold. “Did she send you to this? To talk to me?”

“No, of course not,” Lyney says. “And if ‘Father’ sent me, I wouldn’t have gone. This is all out of my own will.”

It seems you’re strangely keen on avoiding the topic of ‘Father’. And Aether, too, unfortunately. At least Lyney could tell that there was truth to your confession about pride. If he were in your shoes, he would’ve felt the same.

“You know, I never wanted to be her successor,” Lyney says. Your shoulder stiffens. You turn to him, watching his expression closely. Lyney continues, allowing for his expression to be open. “Our fight was just a misunderstanding—I never intended to take anything from you.”

“Right,” you say quietly. You sound wounded.

“I’m sorry,” Lyney says.

“Don’t be sorry. None of it was you,” you sigh. “I told you, didn’t I?” Your eyes then narrow on his lips. “Are you hiding something? I don’t like the look on your face.”

“What?” Lyney chuckles, unsure. “I’m just smiling?”

“Yeah. It looks fake. You look weird smiling like that.”

Lyney feels his heart drop. He feels as if he was charged over by a strike of lightning. And then he laughs, because of course, if he knew you better than anyone, you’d also do to him.

“You make me swoon,” he says dreamily, tugging on your gown as if pawing for it like a cat.

“You haven’t changed much,” you tell him, glancing down at his arms as they curve around you, like before. Like they’ve made a home for themselves there.

“You’ve changed in some ways,” Lyney hums appreciatively, eyeing you.

“Gross!” You slap his arm in hopes of freeing you, but he doesn’t budge. “What are you doing? Let go.”

He grins brightly, and his cheeks ache faintly. He has missed this so, so much. “Still both bark and bite, though.”

“Is this why most of your audience were women? Is this how your shows are always sold out?” you ask, gesturing to how there are no inches between your clothes.

Lyney smiles, less softer, more suggestive. “What? You think I sweet-talk them into buying tickets like this? You think that’d work?”

He curls his arms tighter and draws nearer, your breath on his face. He knows he won when he hears and feels it audibly hitching. Your eyes narrow, hands moving to his arms as if prepared to push him off if he moves any closer.

Lyney bursts out laughing. “Well, I won’t lie and tell you that some of our loyal fans are those who fell for my charm, but, chérie, did you already forget my whole speech about loyalty? I’m hurt.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that,” you huff. Lyney doesn’t mind how he feels it gust against his skin. It makes this all the more real: you, in his arms, living and breathing, and thankfully not pulling away. “You magicians and your fabricated lies.”

“No faith in me whatsoever,” Lyney sighs, but deep down, he’s thoroughly enjoying how you’re acting like his jealous girlfriend. You’re so cute.

“You would know if I was lying to your face, trust me,” he says.

He doesn’t know why, but it took your soft expression, your palms on his chest, your skin brushing against his, to understand that Lynette was right: he could never hate you. He hated how you disappeared without a trace and came back without warning. He hated how you were still as closed off and wary of him as you were on the first day he met you. But this all led you back to him—how could he ever not be grateful for it?

Lyney pulls back, and as much as it pains him to do so, that sad look on your face hurts him even more. He scans his surroundings and brightens.

“Lyney?” you ask, watching as he scrambles over to a bush growing by a pillar.

He plucks a beautiful flower from it and hands them to you. It’s a Marcotte, bright and beautiful. No theatrical tricks. You watched it happen.

“You’re trying too hard to win me back,” you murmur. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Did you have to do anything? I just want to do it,” Lyney says, his voice equally quiet.

It’s just the two of you outside of the city, with the wind whipping through the grass, the world falling hushed enough for Lyney to pick up the faint beat of your heart. You’re silent, thinking deeply, Lyney can tell. He doesn’t want to interrupt, content with figuring out the complicated expressions on your face as you stare at the flower.

“Idiot,” you say, pushing a finger to the space between his brows. “You’re too soft for your line of work. Hey, tell me, what has the House been up to anyway?”

Lyney pauses. “You’re not aware of it already?”

“Well, no, not really,” you say nervously. “I haven’t been paying too close attention. And I haven’t heard anything about the House in years.”

He smiles. “Don’t worry. We’re not up to anything right now.”

It wasn’t a total lie, at least.

By the time Lyney returns home, the lights inside are switched off. The curtains haven’t been drawn, allowing for the moonlight to pour in and illuminate Lynette sitting on the couch, her eyes snapping to him instantly.

“She’s hiding something,” Lyney says, locking the door with a troubled expression. “I just don’t know what. I can’t start looking into it if I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“I suppose there would’ve been something up,” Lynette sighs, crossing her legs. “Have you asked why she’s close with the Traveler?”

“I didn’t get a good answer.” Lyney flings his hat aside. “Have you found anything good?”

“Garrick knew something.” Garrick is one of their magic crew, helping Lyney perform seamlessly. “He told me that he recognized Y/N milling about—but it wasn’t just recently. He told me that he swore he’d seen her before, just in Fontaine City, months before the show.”

“Interesting,” Lyney murmurs, his brows drawn together. He’ll have to think about that later.

Lynette looks at her brother, her eyes carefully blank. “Are you sure doing this won’t drive her away again?”

Behind Lyney, the moonlight scatters all over. It is a little hard to tell what face he’s making. “I’m doing this exactly because I’m trying not to drive her away.”

YAAAAAYYY NEW CHAPTER!!!!!!! more lyney and reader interactions!!!!!!!!!1 more of the siblings ! !! <333 TYSM FOR READING, and, as always, lmk what u think <3

but before you go!! once again we are blessed with fanart but this time with emanami too!

look at her little doodles of this chapter its so CUTE

AND OF COURSE. AKAGI'S LYNEY!!! check this out he looks so fine

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny @motherscrustytoenailclippings @lovelyevil @iawaaaaaaa @rionah @esmetrees @cherryig @kzhwaif @mystiquemare @unknownlololol @sanluvssu @blvdmrcnry @kascar-chronicle @idontevenknow129 @tarathecogsci @lunavixia @beaniedoodz @wendolrea @avalordream @egoistars @rains-mae @magnificentfireball @poemzcheng

[mysticfalls01]

Princesa

(FC Barcelona x reader)

Ona moved to Manchester United to get more minutes and to learn a new style of playing to eventually seek the opportunity to join Barcelona back.

On her first day after the diplomatic signing protocol, it was time to meet her new teammates.

Her new teammates were still in the pitch after having finished their training session. While she was greeting and getting to know everyone the academy players starting training. Immediately her eyes went to the academy’s player with the number 12, y/n l/n. She saw the smile on your face and your natural skills for the game, even if it was only a practice session she could see your talent.

The academy trained after the first team so every day she saw you training, she knew that Manchester’s playing style wouldn’t let your skills develop to their full potential and she knew that she had to do something about it.

After three months in MU, and after doubting if she should do it, she sent her national teammate, Alexia Putellas a text in which she talked about you, your skills, your playing style and about how your true potential wouldn’t be reached if you stayed in Manchester.

When Alexia received that message, she knew that you must be special, she knew that Ona wouldn’t have risked sending her that text if you weren’t. She asked Ona to find out the academy’s calendar so a Barcelona scout could go to see you play.

You loved playing football and you wanted to train even more time than the scheduled time with the academy so after asking for permission you were able to join the first team training sessions thrice a week.

As soon as you met Ona the click happened. She took you under her wing. As time passed, she subtly started teaching you some Spanish phrases.

Barcelona’s scouting team were delighted with you after seeing some of your games, they realized that what Ona told Alexia was true.

When your season with the academy ended, they contacted your parents as you didn’t formally have an agent. When you learned about their proposal you immediately knew who had “recommended” you.

The next time you saw Ona, you asked her about it and all she said with a smile was “Well nena, I might have sent someone a text.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

After MU accepted Barcelona’s offer for you you asked Ona travel with you during the summer to Barcelona so you could settle down.

After helping you to settle down in your new apartment she presented you to her family as her new “hermanita”. Her family immediately saw why Ona had “fallen” for you and told you that if you ever needed help with anything to contact them.

Before Ona had to leave Barcelona to full fill the second year of her contract, she gave you Alexia’s number. “Hermanita, if you need help with anything make sure to contact Ale. She already knows that I’m giving you her number so don’t worry about it.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Moving to a new apartment and in a new city with only 17 was scary so when the first day of training with your new team finally arrived you sent Alexia a text.

“Hola Alexia it’s y/n, Ona gave me your number. I was wondering if you could pick me up to take me to the training session.” “Hola y/n! No problem, Ona gave me your direction, so I’ll be there in 15 minutes”

When Alexia met you, she felt the need to protect you, to guide you.

She gave you a tour of the clubs’ installations, gave you tips and helped you in any way possible. If anyone for any reason was rude to you, they were quickly met with Alexia’s glare, everyone realized that you were under her protection.

The team loved you, when they learned about you joining them, they were a bit skeptical about it but after seeing some of your highlights with MU academy they realized why you were joining them.

Bruna, Jana and you quickly became the chaotic trio. Patri and Claudia became your annoying older sisters. Mapi, Leila, Jenni and Mariona your crazy/cool aunts while Frido and Ingrid became your sane aunts. Aitana became your best friend even with the age gap and Alexia your team mom.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Being homesick was the worst feeling ever. Alexia quickly noticed that you were feeling down and she took matters in her hands.

Alexia invited you over to her and Olga’s apartment. She asked Olga to buy some fish and chips for dinner.

After training Alexia took you to her apartment, shyly you greeted Olga and the dinner started. You realized that you were going to eat fish and chips, you knew that it was Alexia’s way to comfort you even if it was with the most stereotypical British dish her intentions really warmed your heart.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A few months later the fans gave you the nickname of “La Princesa” not only because of your skills but also because someone did compilation video of moments between you and your teammates where Alexia babied you, Mapi got angry with a defender who had tackled you too hard, Frido was rubbing her sunscreen on your face before practice, a video where you asked for Ingrid’s help for your math’s homework and many other moments. Obviously, the video went viral, and you gained a new nickname.

You still FaceTimed Ona every day and in each talk, you told her about your every day in Barcelona. You couldn’t wait for her to join back the team.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

After a team bonding session at a restaurant, you were exhausted so Ale and Olga took you back to your apartment. Olga waited in the car while Ale carried to your apartment and used her spare key to open the door.

She changed you into your pijamas and tucked you into your bed. Before she left and closed the door, she gave you a kiss on your forehead and you sleepily mumbled “Bona nit mama”

When Ale heard those words, she couldn’t help but to grin and said “Bona nit filla” (good night daughter)

When she arrived back to her car she told Olga. “Amor, y/n just called me mama”

“How wonderful Ale, I know that you already see her as your daughter and took her under your wing. It seems that after all y/nn really is la princesa de Barcelona” Olga said before giving Ale a soft kiss.

"Amor, please remind to send Ona a thank you text"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Part 2

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: Could you do Jenson Button with wife reader? He was interviewing for Sky Sports with Danica Patrick. He was fed up with her and he always made that face whenever he was around her which was amusing to his wife. She was having a field day when one day she was at his interview. Just something fluff and cute. You decide how it goes. Tag me later!! Thanks!! :)) ( @pear-1206 )

Word Count: 645 words

(author's note: i hope you enjoy love !! i enjoyed writing this quite alot 🫶 )

If there was one thing Jenson hated about working with Sky Sports, it was Danica Patrick. He couldn't stand to listen to her outlandish and disrespectful takes on races and drivers, especially her opinions about Logan Sargeant.

During his time in the Williams garage, Jenson became very close to Logan, and the pair developed a father-and-son relationship over the years. This only furthered when Jenson’s wife, Y/N, met Logan. She absolutely adored him and quickly became his biggest supporter alongside her husband.

So, when Y/N was invited to participate in a post-race discussion with Jenson, Danica and some other regular Sky Sports figures, she jumped at the opportunity. Jenson however, was not as keen as his dear wife.

The group stood in the paddock, each one of them holding a microphone. Y/N was smiling from ear to ear, so excited for the opportunity. Her husband watched her intently, realising that he took his job for granted far too often. However, once the interview began it wasn’t long before Jenson remembered why he disliked Danica so much.

“I just don’t think that Sargeant has the skill required to drive at this level. He can’t keep up with the car or the fast pace of the races which is reflected in his poor results. In my opinion, Williams should start looking for a new driver.” Danica said critically.

Some of the other interviewers nodded, but before she could begin talking again, Jenson cut in, “I disagree fully. Logan is a talented driver and we’ve seen just how well he can perform under pressure. I simply believe that this is just a slight rough patch in his career and that it won’t be long until he’s back on track and in the points.”

“I agree with Jenson,” Y/N stated while smiling at her husband, “I’ve spent a lot of time speaking with Logan and he puts far too much pressure on himself. He isn’t happy with how he’s driving at the moment but I don’t think the amount of criticism he receives isn't fair at all.”

Admiration and pride shone in Jenson’s eyes as he listened to his wife talk. He knew Logan would feel the same way too, but more appreciative that she had defended him.

Danica pretty much accepted their statements and moved on to discussing the race and giving even more unwarranted criticisms. Towards the end of the interview, Jenson was finding it harder and harder to suppress his eye rolls and sighs at Danica’s words.

Y/N on the other hand, was finding her husband’s behaviour hysterical. She knew very well that Jenson did not like Danica but watching his reactions made her struggle not to laugh.

Eventually, the interview ended and Jenson and Y/N walked off towards the Williams garage.

“You’re hilarious you know that right?” Y/N said to Jenson as they strolled along hand in hand.

“What do you mean my darling?”

“The way you react to Danica is unbelievable. I could barely stop myself from laughing when you rolled your eyes at her.”

Jenson snorted with laughter, “Sometimes what she comes out with is so ridiculous that I can’t help myself. Especially when it’s about Logan. I nearly kissed you on the spot when you started defending him.”

“Jenson!” Y/N said slapping his arm “You would’ve gotten us into so much trouble! But I’ll always defend Logan, he’s so talented! I don’t see why anyone would question his ability to drive.”

“God I love you,” Jenson said looking down at his wife.

“I’d hope so Jense,” Y/N replied.

The pair continued their walk to the Williams garage, still laughing every so often at Jenson’s previous antics. Other people might see him as rude, but Y/N wouldn’t have her husband any other way.

[unreliablesnake]

Tough choice (Simon Riley x reader)

Summary: After a successful mission, you get a lot of job offers. But there's one that gets your attention.

Note: We lost a hero, it's hard to fill his shoes. / This will probably get another part where Simon confesses his feelings. And tells the reader about what he thought of them during the first meeting.

Warnings: character death mentioned

Ever since that mission last year, people have been extremely interested in getting you on their side. You were swimming in options, going from briefing to briefing to find that one job which managed to pique your interest. The CIA wanted you higher up the ladder, giving you more responsibilities, while some PMC’s sniffed out what happened and were now trying to sweep you off your feet. Shadow Company offered a fortune for your services, but even Phillip Graves’s charm wasn’t enough to convince you.

And now Laswell brought you an opportunity that made you think. Task force 141. “Ask Alex for reference,” was all she said before handing you the number of Captain John Price. 

It took days to get a hold of your friend, but once you did, he spoke highly of the team he helped out every now and then. “I think they need you to fill some big shoes. A sergeant was KIA and now Ghost needs a partner on the field,” he explained.

“Ghost?”

“Mhm. Man’s a mystery, but he’s damn good at what he does. If I were you, I would go for it.”

So you called Price and organized a meeting with him. This was the first round of the interview process, the opportunity to learn more about your possible future boss, the team, and, of course, how they operate. The captain works with a sergeant called Gaz, while Ghost had worked with Soap, another sergeant who had been KIA. That latter you already knew from Alex. 

Price told you to visit the base the next time they're all there, and you gladly accepted the invitation. The team’s mystery man, the one you would have to work with, grabbed your attention. His superior spoke highly of him, and the fact Alex also emphasized that he was excellent at what he did made you curious. He certainly lived up to his call sign by keeping his identity so hidden. You didn’t know his name, you didn’t know his age, you didn’t know what he looked like. All you knew is that he was a Brit, just like Price and Gaz. 

It took your schedules to align almost four weeks, but eventually you made it to their location and were greeted by the captain as if you were already a member of their team. His warm smile brought one to your lips too, and you soon found yourselves deep in a conversation about Kate and Alex. He liked working with them, and despite Alex being labeled a deserter, the team often crossed paths with him. That was good. Meeting him every once in a while would be nice.

“Ghost is waiting for us in my office,” Price began to say, only to pause for a brief moment when he stopped in front of a door. “But I think I’ll give you two the chance to talk alone. I already told him about you, even mentioned that I want you to work with us, but he has to be the one to finalize our decision.”

Nodding, you waited for him to open the door, then stepped inside the dimly lit room. The window shades were pulled down and the only source of light came from the small lamp on the desk. Ghost was sitting in the swivel chair behind it, his eyes scanning a file that you assumed was yours.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Ghost interrupted you right away. “I want you on my team,” he stated sternly as if it was an order, then threw the file on the top of several other documents. 

Despite your best efforts to keep things professional, a snort coming from you filled the room upon hearing his words. “So does everybody else,” you informed him, slowly folding your arms over your chest. “I already turned down several offers. Convince me; why should I pick this team?”

The lieutenant stood up and walked over to you, finally letting you realize just how much bigger he was. He was intimidating, yes, but that didn’t stop you from keeping eye contact with him. “You know Laswell. If you trust her, you can trust us,” he said.

“It’s not a matter of trust.”

“Then what do you want to hear?”

A sigh left your lips. It wasn’t about the money. If it was, you would be working for Shadow Company now. To be honest, you didn’t even know what you wanted from the job. But there was one question that bugged you since you first heard about this guy. “Are you a good person?” you asked him seriously.

Since you could only see a small part of his face, you almost missed that surprised glint in his eyes. “No,” came his answer. 

For a few moments you just watched him, thinking about his response. He was honest, that you truly appreciated, but you could hear something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place yet. Regret? Pain? Doubt? Self-hate? Whatever it was, it made him sound and look human. Without realizing what you were doing, you took a step closer to him, making this giant man lean his hips against the desk to build back some distance. 

“When can I start?” 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the way his large fingers tightly gripped the edge of the desk at your words, as if he was trying to ground himself. Was he thinking about the sergeant he had lost? If it was you, your mind would always return to the person who died under your command. What if this one dies too? You would be asking yourself this over and over again. So you didn’t want to rush him, you just stood there and waited for him to pull himself together. 

And then, after several minutes of deafening silence, he finally spoke up. “Good decision. Price will tell you the details,” Ghost informed you before moving past you to rush out the door.

[marvelous-slut]

Call Back - Chibs Telford x Reader

YALL!! I can’t lie, I am a hoe for this troupe if you can’t tell from my other works. Like the close friends daughter? Idk it makes me feral. I swear to god I don’t have daddy issues, like I have the best dad ever so idk why I’m like this but here’s this work that has been stuck in my drafts for weeks.

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY! Age gaps & smut.

You watched the club members make their way into the club house as you puffed on the joint that rested between your fingers. Chucky had kept you company while you waited for them to come back from a run. As much as you wanted to slap the shit out of Chibs when he come through the door, you held back. Knowing you couldn’t risk Clay finding out that one of his most trusted members had been with his daughter right under his nose. Even if through all the rage you felt right now toward him, you’d never want him to get hurt.

While the MC was on a run, you’d realized you’d forgot many of your things at Chibs house the night before they left. He told you were the extra key was through text for you to get them back, a part of you wished you’d never went in. You found your things and as you did, the phone rung. Before you shut the door to leave, you heard a voice mail being recorded and decided to stay and listen. Sure, maybe it was a little bit of an invasion of privacy but you wanted to know who else needed to talk to him besides the club and you.

“It’s Fi. Fillip, I want our family back. Jimmy is gone, hasn’t been here for months. Haven’t heard from him either. There’s no sense in us stayin’ apart now. Let me know when you get this, please.” Family? What family? The only family you’d known Chibs to have was the MC. You cursed yourself for not listening to Clay and Gemma more when they’d talk about the members and their lives. You’d think the feelings you’d had for Chibs through the years of being around the club would have made your ears perk up when they’d chat about him. Maybe it was a detail you’d heard and didn’t care about, as you’d never met or seen him with a woman, thinking it was an old fling. Chucky filled you in once you brought it up, telling you how Chibs had been married before with a daughter. He didn’t know much more besides that.

“You gotta go home, no need for you to be here.” Clay says, throwing his bag on the pool table. “And put that shit out, this place reeks of pot cause of you.” He walks past you, just like you were a stranger in the house. You didn’t know what happened on the run, but it had to be something tough. Clay typically treated you and Gemma both like dirt on his shoes when a run went bad or an issue come up with the club. It didn’t make the coldness he came off with sting any less. The hurt was plastered on your face, you put your joint out in the ash tray and ran out of the club house in tears. Pushing past Chibs as you did. Jax looks at him, confused as to what happened.

“Think it’s somethin’ with Clay. I’ll go make sure she’s okay.” He says, Jax nods his head and follows the rest into the house. Jax cared about you, sometimes both of you thought he cared more about you than Clay but right now he had to fill his role as VP.

“Love,” He begins to say. You turn around, laughing as you did. Between the new found information of him being married and your fathers cold demeanor toward you, something snapped inside of you.

“Shut up!” You yell at him, he’s confused and shocked as you’d never talked to anyone this way before in your whole life. Even if you had Gemma for a step mom you weren’t quick to yell out in anger or use your fists to resolve issues like her, even sometimes being like a dog that keeps getting beat down makes anyone eventually explode. “Don’t you have a fucking wife to get back to?” You ask, Chibs eyes widen. He’s speechless and you take the opportunity to get in your car and drive off from the club. Wanting to be anywhere but here.

_____

You laid on your bed looking up at the ceiling, unable to think of anything other than Chibs. Even your father snapping at you today didn’t hurt like this did. That you were used to, being lied to by someone you trusted deeply wasn’t. It was 12:42AM, not a word from Chibs or Clay. You were shocked that Gemma hadn’t been crawling up your ass to find out where you were. Typically you’d go over to visit before heading to your house but today you just wanted to be alone. Trying to sleep hadn’t worked out in your favor and you’re forced to lay in bed with only your many racing thoughts. Before anything else can cross your mind, you hear a knock at the door. You grab your pistol, not knowing who would be here at this time of night. When you look through the peep hole, you’re somewhat shocked at who you see.

“What do you want?” You ask, opening the door. A part of you was excited that he was here so the two of you could talk, but the anger in you didn’t want to see him at all.

“I want to talk.” He says, pushing past you into the house. You couldn’t lie, it was kind of hot that he asserted himself like this. It was always sexy when he did it, one of the many reasons you liked him. He sits down on the couch and you sit on the other end, looking at him. He was looking at you, almost like he was waiting on an explanation. You chuckled, slapping your hands on your thighs as you did.

“What?” You ask sharply, he leans back into the cushions, placing his hands on the top of his head.

“I listened to the voicemail that you heard, and deleted it as soon as it was done playin’. I married Fi when I was in Ireland and younger, a man named Jimmy O got me kicked out of the IRA and married Fi. Raised my daughter, Kerrianne.” This was a lot to process right now, your head still swimmy from the tears youd shed through the day. “Also, did this to ma face.” He says, pointing at the scars that ran over his cheeks. You sit, listening to everything he’s saying. It sounds like some kind of TV show, how the hell do you get kicked out of a country unless you’re a terrorist?

“Listen lass, I should have told you about Fi and my Kerrianne, but it just wasn’t something I thought about bringin’ up to ya. You make me forget all the bad shit in my life, when I’m with ya I don’t have to think about any of it.” He moves over to sit beside you, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “Fi hasn’t had a hold on me since the day you decided to spill ya drink on me.” You smiled at him and laughed. It was your first night back in Charming after moving away for college, Chibs only faintly remembered you when you were younger but you’d made an impression on him your first night back. Being drunk out of your mind, staggering everywhere and eventually bumping into him and your drink flying all over him. You sigh deeply, looking away from him as you attempt to hold anymore tears from coming out. He turns your head back to him, resting his forehead onto yours.

“I know it’s wrong and I know Clay would put a bullet in ma head if he knew about this, but I love you lass. I can’t help it.” He says, at this moment you don’t need to hear anything else he has to say. You lay your lips onto his and he returns the favor. You feel his rough and calloused hands run up your leg, shivering as the coldness from his rings hits your skin. You let out a soft whimper as you’d missed this familiar feeling of his hands on your body.

“How I’ve missed that noise.” He breathes out, breaking the kiss. You stand up, adjusting your clothes. You don’t know why you did, sooner rather than later they’d be scattered across the floor anyways. You reach a hand out and he accepts, following you to your bedroom. Once the two of you are in, he sheds his kutte and lays it on the desk that sits in your corner. The familiar scent of whiskey and cigarette smoke takes over your senses as he places his lips to your neck, kissing gently and carefully not to leave a mark on your precious skin. Before you knew it, your shorts and underwear were scattered on the ground along with his clothes. You lay down on the bed as he hovers over you, typically you got things rolling by landing on your knees for him but he felt like he needed to make this about you. The beads that hang from his neck are hanging in-front of your face, a sight you’ll never get tired of seeing. You feel his hand sliding to your dripping cunt, he slides in two fingers and you arch your back in pleasure. He would have started off with one, but he knew you’d immediately tell him to add another just like you always did.

“So beautiful.” He says as he’s kissing the inside of your thighs. “So wet.” The kisses, how his fingers curl inside of you, hitting your spot just right it was all enough to send your head spinning. His fingers are buried deep in you, but he’s moving them at such an agonizing pace. Knowing you were going insane and silently begging him to spend up his movements. He leans down to you, placing his lips onto yours. This time it’s messy, almost sloppy but you don’t mind.

“Always takin’ my fingers so well, can you still take this cock just as good love?” It had been a few weeks since the two of you had sex due to him being on the run and you’d longed for this moment since the day he left with the MC for Tacoma. You nodded your head yes, knowing if you tried to speak you’d just embarrass yourself by stammering around. He slides himself into you, your hands tighten around his arms as you feel yourself stretch around him. Once he’s buried himself into you and sees the pleasure across your face, he starts to thrust into you slowly trying to set his pace.

“Fuck.” You manage to moan out, he moves the hair from your face so he can take in your beauty. To the both of you, the sex you had was like a drug. Once never being enough. The first time it happened, he insisted it would be the last as well. The minute he slid himself inside of you, seeing your face and feeling you clench around him he knew he’d made himself a liar. Every-time was sensual, even when it was a quick fuck it was always meaningful.

“You always take me so well, love. Almost like this pussy was made just for me.” He lets out as the grip on your hips tightens. You feel your stomach begin to tighten, your face burning and you know you’re there. He knows it too, pumping into you steadily but harsher. “Be a good girl and let go all over me aye?” The words sent you over the edge, bucking your hips against him to intensify the experience. It sends him over the edge, watching you like you can’t get enough of him and he releases into you. Not worrying wether there was a condom on or not. He pulls himself out, grabbing a towel to help you clean up and get himself situated. You wrap yourself up in a silk robe as you watch him dress, knowing the worst moment of him leaving was coming.

“You know you can stay right? Dad shouldn’t be down this way anytime soon.” You tried your best, hoping he’d give in. He sighs, tightening his belt. He walks over to you, kissing your forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow love. I have some things to take care of tonight.”

Chibs rides home, it’s almost 3AM and he’s feeling it as his eye lids become heavier and heavier. He silently thanks God when he makes it inside that he didn’t crash his bike into a semi on his way here from the fatigue. He sits on the couch, staring at the phone. He listens to the voicemail from Fiona once more, thinking of her and the life they had. How they had a shot of getting that back. His mind then went to you, he loved you and he couldn’t shake the feeling. He hated to lie to you, but at this moment he didn’t know which path to go down. Telling you the voicemail and feelings for his wife were gone was better than saying “I don’t really know what to do”. He couldn’t bare the thought of hurting you as he’d already seen how that went earlier in the day at the club house.

He didn’t fear anyone, but he knew it would be tricky with you due to Clay. He knew he’d never be able to boast or call you his old lady. Things would be a secret till the day Clay died, and Chibs didn’t like keeping those. He picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number, praying he’d get the mailbox before he had anymore time to think.

“Hey Fi. It’s Fillip. Just wanted to see if you still wanted to talk.”