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bibbumblebee · 2 years ago
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I know we’ll probably never get any information on Phoenix’s parents, but I refuse to believe his mom is named anything other than Miranda.
Miranda Wright.
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birdhouseblogredux25 · 6 days ago
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Just finished both seasons of Castlevania Nocturne and this show gave me such a headache and an adrenaline rush that I absolutely adored it with every fiber of my gosh darn being. There's still one question that I need to know for next season:
DID ALUCARD MEET HIS PARENTS PLS CAUSE MY GUY, GURL, BRO, SIS, MA'AM, SQUIRREL- DID HE GET CLOSURE?
WRITERS YOU CANT LEAVE ME HANGING LIKE THIS.
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deviantly-inspired · 1 year ago
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Sweating nervously in the light of day because this one took off and I didn’t so much as skim over it for typos before posting
Ok so I've seen the idea of food 'made with love' being what Dream enjoys most but I really think we, as a collective fandom, need to lean in more to the idea of it, actually.
We KNOW from the comics that Dream eats food; that he was starving after his freedom. But even though he's hungry, even in the waking world, he won't eat because there's been nothing but bad intentions and malice directed to him for over a hundred years. He's wary. Like a spooked horsed.
But Hob Gadling has always been so unashamedly fond of Dream, that it's... tempting. to indulge.
(it's more than tempting. He's already starving: for dreams for nightmares for softness for sharpness. Hob is the only person Dream knows that he would take any of it from. If Hob were to offer him poison then Dream would take it gladly, if only to have something to fill the void within him. How miraculous it is, then, that Hob would only every offer succor)
So maybe Dream stares at some home-made food that's being eaten on some picnic while they're about. And Hob needles him just a bit, trying to get some information. What all goes into being Dream of the Endless? And Dream enjoys their wordplay and games so he dances around answering but his gaze keeps going back to that soft little picnic, not too far. Hob steers the conversation towards intent, and Dream admits that, yes, he can sense the intent things are made with, before directing the conversation to something a little safer then the art of consuming.
(Dream would take and take and take and take anything that Hob would give him. Even poison. And would thank him for the malaise of it. It is safer, then, to not let even the hint of hunger touch his waking form.)
But Hob didn't get to over 600 by being a slouch on his academics. He's smart. perceptive. He knows people, and Dream is certainly a 'people' even if he's not quite a person. So he makes something simple, that night. A stew maybe, and thinks of his mother's care and simple wishes whispered to the cast iron. love and kitchen magic. Spells for healthy children and a meal that will fill for longer than it should. Hob wonders, to this day, if maybe she was some sort of real witch and not just the magic that all good mothers are. But he can't ask her so he whispers wishes into his potatoes and encourages the bone to seep fully- he's going to be all bones like you if you don't fill him up- and thanks the meat for it's part and imagines it sticking to the inside of whatever Dream calls ribs to keep him going for a bit longer than he might have otherwise.
(there's all sorts of magic in the world. most of it regular folks will never get to touch. but there is a type of magic, the oldest kind, that's alive and well even in the most scientifically inclined people.)
Hob presents this stew casually. There's no fooling Dream though. It's simple appearance does nothing to hide all that was poured into it. The way the vegetables sing of harbors and the meat dreams of comfort. How the broth simmers with comfort and fullness and broken bread over centuries. love thickens the whole of it into something that will last. Something that will stick and keep him full long past when he should be hungry. To fill the most ravenous parts of him. He wants to consume. He cannot.
I shouldn't, Dream says.
It's yours, Hob replies. I made too much anyway. Wouldn't want this to go to waste.
The idea of it wasting, left to rot, a gift returned, is abhorrent. Dream never claimed to abide by the mortal concept of good. He eats the stew, and then the second bowl and then the third. And hob is only too happy to give him more and more and more, until the pot is empty and, still, Dream starves.
I shouldn't, Dream says with his eyes locked on Hob's lips.
I'm yours, Hob replies. I've always been yours. There's enough of me to pour into you, however much you want for however long you want.
I will want you endlessly, Dream warns with what little strength he has. There is nothing in me that does not hunger. I was born of Night most of all and this means that I know what it is to be a black hole, i know what it is to consume everything, even light, and still never be full.
Hob smiles and leans forward and pours himself into Dream's mouth, all of himself, all that he can spare and then more and more and more. He tastes like lightening and warm broth and bread broken under starry skies. It tastes like every daydream Hob has had for 600 years. It tastes like the knowledge that this will last, sticking to the inside of his ribs warming from within bolstering against that which would sap the meat from your bones. It tastes like something that will last.
(the oldest magic across every universe is love, of course. but you knew that already.
All stories return to their original form, after all.)
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rosesradio · 1 year ago
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eunoiiz · 15 days ago
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☁︎—enhypen reassuring you about your relationship
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☁︎synopsis—enhypen comforting you about their love for you₊˚ෆ
☁︎genre—hurt/comfort. enhypen hyung line x reader.₊˚ෆ
☁︎warning—crying. idk mentions of cheating or whatever. swearing. intended lowercase. not proofread. wc(range)˚˚˚300—500 each.₊˚ෆ
☁︎kassiddi's note—trying a headcannon!! or whatevs it's called i forgot… might do a maknae line !! but for now i decided to do something to upload (so it's rushed) and i also didn't know how to properly title this.₊˚ෆ
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ʚɞ—lee heeseung˚˚˚
hearing from a handful of your friends that heeseung was cheating on you was not taken lightly to heart. your heart sank, throat stung and eyes began to fill with tears as your ears rang.
you never believed the “playboy” rumors since you met him, and he'd always denied them when people approached him and accused him of cheating on his exes. you believed him over these 3 months.
you turned around, heading for the office to call in sick, when you saw him. them. heeseung's face just inches away from one of the girls you'd thought was his ex.
you ran for the office, dropping your backpack to shed off some weight. you didn't have anything important in it, anyway.
the sound of running behind you soon after caused you to attempt to enter the girls restroom, but you didn't make it as the steps were faster. the person spun you around.
“what the fuck do you want heeseung?!” you shouted through streams of tears, trying to get him off you. “please, let me explain.” “what the fuck is there to explain? everyone was right about you, hee!” you ignored his pleas, releasing yourself from his grip and beginning to storm into the ladies restroom out of frustration.
“i’m not cheating on you, y/n, please believe me.” he begged, rambling as fast as possible before you walked too far into the bathroom to hear.
“then what was that, heeseung? how can you explain how close you were to miyeon, and all the rumors?” you wiped away your tears. “it wasn't anything y/n—” “it seemed like you were about to kiss her to me.” you couldn't face the male.
“i was angry with her y/n, i couldn't stand the rumors she was spreading and wanted to confront her before they got to you and made you like.. this.” he explained, trying to reassure you. but you weren't so sure, at all. you didn't know if you could believe him.
“she's been wanting me back since i broke up with her, and she's spread these rumors from the beginning. i’ve never cheated on anyone. please believe me, baby.” sincerity tainted his voice, and painted his face when you finally turned back around to look at him.
“do you promise? how do i know i can trust you?” your voice shook, the uncertainty remained. “i promise, love, please. miyeon was my first girlfriend, y/n. the crazy one i told you about. she hasn't changed. i’ll so anything to make you believe me.”
your heart rate slowed, although you still weren't sure you could trust him again.
“i’ll try to believe you hee.” you mumbled, allowing him to caress your check, using his thumb to swipe away your tears. “thank you, doll. i promise i'll prove my love to you, a hundred—no, a thousand times if i have to.”
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ʚɞ—park jongseong˚˚˚
“y/n, i heard around that jay is just using you to get back at his ex, but im not sure. i hope it's false but i wanted to let you know, sorry.” jisung whispered into your ear while passing by during lunch, smiling apologetically at you.
you smiled back, though it quickly fell. deciding to confront your boyfriend before class started, you hurried eating. you were torn between anger and sadness.
you checked the time, 15 minutes until the bell rang. enough time to call his ass out, in private though.
your eyes searched the cafeteria, eventually landing on a blonde male, the best friend of your boyfriend, and your boyfriend right next to him.
standing up, tray in hand, you tossed it into the nearby trash, proceeding toward the man.
“up. we need to talk.” “wha—” “now.” you forced him up, tugging him by his hoodie sleeve into a more secluded area.
“what's this about, my love?” he questioned, a puzzled look plastered all over his face while he stood with his arms crossed.
“don't act so stupid with me, jongseong. you had me here loving you for months because i really thought you loved me but your only with me because you wanna make your ex jealous? what the hell?” you ranted, infuriated.
“woah, bae, slow down. what?” he quizzed, you could tell he was genuinely confused but you were too angry to take time to let him even breathe. “you know exactly what i mean, stop doing that.”
“y/n, slow down. you know im not like that, my love. who told you this?” he placated. “jisung! he's a distant friend, but i trust him! and he's not even the first person who I've heard this from. i think he got it from hyunjin, or leeseo, or maybe even minhee! it's just been going around too much and—” “darling…” he trailed off, silence taking over for ten seconds.
“you realize all of the people you just named don't even like you, right?” his hand reached for yours.
“oh.. well, still?...” you muttered, glancing away. your face heated, feeling a bit dumb but still unsure. “how do i know you aren't with me for that, though?”
“let's go talk to jisung first, okay? clear up somethings and ill come over later, darling. i love you.”
he interlinked your hands, “i love you too, seong.”
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ʚɞ—sim jaeyun˚˚˚
you've never been able to get over the crush you've had on jake since you were little, but you also couldn't bring yourself to confess either.
“thank you, jakey!” a girl’s voice sounded through the halls.
turning the corner, you watched as the girl released her grip on his forearm and gave him a tight hug before he sent her off into the classroom. you hated that, such a small thing.
but it didn't feel right to feel so angry, he wasn't even yours.
you figured it would be better if you headed off to your own class, and tried to forget about it so you’d feel better. lunch was after one more period.
maybe he could hang out with his new girlfriend that he hadn't even told you about, and you'll spend lunch with someone else.
when the bell rang, you packed up as quickly as possible, not wanting to encounter them again. even though you still caught a glimpse of them on your way to your next class.
“y/n—” “in a hurry!” you spewed, speeding down the hall and past the couple, you did not want an introduction to his new girlfriend. you wanted to be his new girlfriend for years, but those chances seemed like zero.
so once again, when the bell rang, you made sure to pack up as quickly as possible. but when you stepped outside, you saw a face you didn't want to at that moment.
“oh, think i left something in my last class, jake! you should head to lunch—” “what's up with you? i've been trying to introduce you to my cousin! she's 2 grades behind us, i was hoping you were okay with helping me show her around, y/n. you could've said you weren't.” jake explained.
holy, did you feel stupid?
“..cousin?” you were stunned, internally killing yourself. “yes? why? someone jealous?” he smirked, obviously teasing but you might as well spill it.
“yes, actually.. i thought she was your girlfriend and i thought my chances with you were gone and—” a peck, another, another, and another that turned into a longer kiss.
“i thought you didn't feel the same, pretty.”
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ʚɞ—park sunghoon˚˚˚
“y/n, would you help me with something?” sunghoon called you over. “yeah, what is it?” you stood up, walking over to his desk and pulling up a chair right next to his.
“this is a confession letter! im giving it to yuna, i just need to go over the grammar and decorate it a bit—”
“confession letter?” your brows furrowed, jealousy starting to build up inside of you. “uhm, yeah! can i get that help?” he asked, holding the card out in front of your face.
“oh, yes of course, should i go over the grammar?” he nodded. you flipped open the card, the corners decorated in pink bows, the edges lined in pink glitter and the i’s dotted in hearts. you wanted to rip up the card, a bit overwhelmed by jealousy.
“i would like to be your valentine…. mmmm.. you're the most stunning girl I've ever seen…. i’ve had feelings for you for so long..” you read aloud as sunghoon watched your expression. “seems all good to me, i also didn't know you could decorate like this, hoon.” you caressed the bows, all the things you loved drawn into a card—that wasn't for you.
“only the best for who i love, right?” he smiled, taking back the card.
“right.. anything else?” you tried to keep your composure, not wanting to spill all your emotions out to your best friend who didn't seem to feel the same.
“yes can you help with this envelope? i need to decorate it and sign it. mind using these glitter pens? oh and make sure to add the bows in the corners!” he exclaimed, turning to his laptop and focusing on a level he'd been trying to be on his game.
a couple moments later and you slip the card into the pastel envelope. “there.” you slid it across the desk. “perfect, she's gonna love it.” he smiled proudly. “you're the best, n/n.”
“mhm. you never told me you had a crush, hoon?” your eyes never left the card, neatly tucked into the envelope. it bothered you so much and you couldn't shake that feeling.
“well, i actually wanted to tell you after i handed yuna the card, but i guess there's no point now.” he scratched his nape, then reached toward his mini shelf and between books.
he pulled out another card, decorated similarly. “no kidding, hoon. why have me help make a card look all pretty for her and then tell me you liked her? and for so long?” you were so upset, but you didn't want that to show.
“liked her? ….yuna? oh, no stupid. this is for jake! he had soccer practice so he wanted help with a confession card, because valentine's day's tomorrow and he didn't think he'd have enough time.” sunghoon explained, the other card in his other hand, sliding it towards you.
“read this, y/n.” you picked up the card, opening the envelope and then the card.
‘dear y/n, i’ve had feelings for you for so long and could never tell if you felt the same, but i wanna ask you now, would you be my valentine? you're the most wonderful girl and i’m so lucky to have you. (hopefully) you're future boyfriend, sunghoon’
“oh my gosh, sunghoon. i hate you so much.” you smiled to yourself, taking a moment to take it in. “so.. is that a no?” he joked, laughing. “no you idiot, i’d love to be your valentine, and future girlfriend.”
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thank you for reading♡ i appreciate any interaction with my writing, i just do it for fun(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡
please do not steal or repost on any platform. i only publish these to tumblr under the username eunoiiz.
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rindreamery · 1 month ago
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hi, nishi!!
first off, congrats again for 300 followers!
so, for the event, my character will be: itoshi sae.
flavor: spicy
add ons: topping 1- eye contact. topping 2: best friend's brother.
thank you, and take your time.
ORDER 8: READY TO GO !
sae + spicy + eye contact + best friend's brother w.c. 800+
note. thank you ira 🤍 and thank you for your patience with this !! ik i've been slacking a little with my posting schedule, but i swear i'll prioritize the event fics from now on before posting other fics. (my own personal time-out 😞)
interested in more? check out the lounge !
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stepping into the threshold of rin’s kitchen, the last person you had expected to see was sae. 
as far as you were aware, he was still supposed to be in spain for another two weeks. but rin had a habit of never telling you when sae had a change of plans, when he was was back, and, much to your dismay, when he was coming over. that was simply up to you to find out, for yourself, whenever you visited. 
like now. 
sae’s standing just a few feet away from you, leaning on the counter as he sips on the remainder of his water, eyes staring off into the window across the room. he’s clad in a plain tee and sweats, waistband hanging unreasonably low on his hips and giving you a clear view of his v-line, and his hair is unruly from having just woken up— yet, somehow, he manages to pull the look off. a little too well, you note to yourself. he looks a little too good, and it almost feels like a sin to check him out so blatantly, like it’s a sin to be thinking such things about him. maybe it is, in a way. 
you could already feel the pressure of rin’s judgemental stare, although not there physically, at the way you gawk openly at his brother. “gross, never call my brother ‘hot’ ever again,” his distant words echo somewhere in the back of your mind, reminding you that he’s not particularly fond of the idea of you cozying up with his brother. you had mentioned it in passing, once, as a joke, only to be met with distaste and a nasty side-eye. “it’s disturbing, so please, shut up.” 
you should take that as a sign; you should leave, clear your mind, and go back to minding your own business. acting like you don’t care all that much about him, despite your painfully obvious attraction. unfortunately, you were never truly known for your acting. because as you’re about to turn away, about to spin on your heel and walk back to rin’s room, you freeze in place.
your gaze gets caught on the way his biceps flex under the thin material of his shirt, the lines becoming more defined as he brings his drink up to his lips. hook, line, and sinker— the way you can’t seem to look away, even for just a second. your eyes hike down and then up the line of his bicep, and then his forearm, and then the hand that’s gripping onto the glass. equally distracted by the veins that decorate the skin on his hand, prominent as his fingers stretch around the glass. you’re distracted by him, in his entirety. 
you forget that you’re standing in his periphery, and the realization comes to you a second too late. 
sae’s eyes flicker over to you once he notices your presence, scanning down the length of your body as he does a brief once-over of you, one of his brows quirking up at the way you linger awkwardly at the entrance of the kitchen. he’s still sipping his drink, lips pressed tightly against the glass, but his eyes remain locked onto yours. they’re passive, unreadable like always, digging into your skin uncomfortably as the two of you stand there in silence. neither daring to say a word, or maybe, just not knowing what to say. 
you should feel embarrassed at the thought of having been caught, but you’re more flustered by the way he eyes you down. the weight of his stare is steady and intense, coupled with the dragging silence, and it makes you shift awkwardly on your feet. you’re about to clear your throat, come up with some lame excuse of forgetting what you needed from the kitchen, and booking it to rin’s room. but as your mouth opens to speak, sae cuts you off.
“nice outfit,” he says, voice low and even. you follow the way his eyes form a trail down your body, landing on the oversized shirt you were currently wearing. you can feel the way he lingers at the hem of your shirt, staring at the way it stops shy of your upper thighs. before they flick up back to meet your eyes, still passive, but now flickering with amusement?
you blink at him once, and then twice, and then a third time. “what?” you manage to sputter out, taken aback by the random compliment, feeling the surface of your skin burn from the way he had blatantly checked you out, too. but, also confused; you glance down at the shirt, noting that it was nothing worth complimenting. “uhm, thanks? rin lent them to me 'cause i spilled something on my clothes. they're comfy, at least."
the amusement flickers off into nothing, at your answer.
sae seems displeased, evident in the way he reacts to your words. he presses his lips together, and for a second, you see a flash of jealousy in his eyes. or maybe, it’s your delusions speaking. you’re not quite sure.
he gets up from where he was leaning on the counter, focused on you as he takes a tentative step towards you.
your feet stay locked in place as he closes the distance between the two of you with slow, calculating steps. “that’s my shirt you’re wearing, you know.” the jealousy in his tone is more apparent, putting emphasis on my and you’re, dragging the syllables on his tongue. "not rin's."
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© rindreamery, 2025
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sometimesanalice · 2 months ago
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Dream a Little Dream
Summary: After a long week away in Lemoore, all Bradley wants to do is come home to you. The only thing is, you’re just not where he expects to find you.
Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader
Length: 4.5K
Warnings: so much fluff and a truly smitten Bradley Bradshaw (mdni)
(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!)
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Bradley throws his head back and lets out low groan as he hits another red light.
Nothing in the past week he’d spent up in Lemoore had felt as long as this drive home from base.
Not the stuffy dinner with the higher ups that had Mav and him exchanging looks from across the table, both of them clearly wishing to be anywhere else than done up in their Dress Whites. Not the long nights sharing a room with Hangman, who snored louder than the multiple phone alarms that he’d kept snoozing instead of turning off, as if the scratchy Navy provided sheets weren’t bad enough on their own. Not the drills or the lectures or the reviewing of the new procedural guidelines or equipment requirements with the crew stationed up there.
He'd felt the all the tension that had been building up over the week melt off of him the moment he’d turned the key in the ignition- the engine to the Bronco rumbling to life after a week of sitting on a parking lot on North Island- knowing that he was finally on his way home.
Technically, he was on his way to your apartment. But it was the same difference to him.
Wherever you were was where he wanted to be.
That was home. You were home.
Minus the fact that the San Diego traffic controllers seemed to have it out for him.
He thought for a moment he’d make it to your place in record time considering that there weren’t many people on the road a 2am. He hadn’t even bothered to turn the radio on, but even 105.3 THE ROCK where hits go to die would be preferable to the way he was agitatedly drumming his thumb on the steering wheel. But he was stubborn and now he left it off out of spite when his drive became a game of ‘How Many Times Will Rooster Hit The Red’.
It had been more stop than go at this point.
“Finally,” Bradley mumbles to himself when the light turns green and shifts out of neutral into first.
When Jake had dropped him off at base after their five-hour road trip back to San Diego, he’d decided to suck it up and stick around to get some of the paperwork that he’d been putting off out of the way so that he could enjoy the days off he had lined up after the trip. He might have lost track of time and caught a second wind filling out flight logs with only the whir of the overhead fluorescents to keep him company, working until he reached the point where he felt like he couldn’t keep his eyes opened anymore. His eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute he stayed seated at the desk he’d commandeered to work at.
It had been a week of sleeping like shit. And not just because of the creaky, lumpy mattress or Hangman’s snoring. But because he’d gotten used to your soft, warm body pressed against his and the sound of your gentle breathing to lull him to sleep. He’d had a taste of what true luxury was like and now it was hard to go back to the bare minimum he’d known before.
He’d known even before he’d left the building that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep unless you were tucked against him. He’d barely slept 300 miles away from you, but it would have been even worse to go back to his condo knowing you were closer than ever and yet still so far.
Being in the same city wasn’t enough for him. He needed to be under the same roof, under the same covers.
Four red lights later, he’s turning onto your block. By some kind of miracle there’s an open spot big enough for the Bronco near the main entry without him having to maneuver into it with too much effort. It’s another reason why he’s dying to have you move in with him, the parking at your apartment complex is trash. And there are never enough guest spots, even with the parking pass he kept in his glove box.
Bradley lets himself in to your apartment as quietly as he can, opening the door slowly as to not wake you. The spare key you’d given him when you’d first moved here had lived on his own set of keys for the last couple of years, along with the fighter jet keychain you’d picked up for him when the two of you were teens during a family trip to Pensacola as thanks for looking after your hermit crabs. Even if one of them did lose a claw on his watch, which he’d felt guilty about for days, until you told him it would most likely grow back.
He’d never had a lot to be sentimental about, but that keychain with the charm whose silver finish had long been worn off around the edges was one of the few things that had been everywhere with him, so it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
He gingerly sets the key on the console table you had near the front door, trying to keep them from clattering together. Carefully, he toes his boots off and sets his bag down next to them, making sure to keep it off the runner you had in the entryway. He knew you wouldn’t care if he tracked in some dirt on it, but he did.
One of the things he’s always liked about your apartment is how lived in it was.
Even in the dark, Bradley could make out the ruffly curtains you’d hung up over the door to your balcony. And the impressive gallery wall that framed your TV, one that was a mix of your own photos and art that you’ve accumulated along the way. There were more pillows than he thought was necessary on your couch, but made for one of his favorite afternoon nap spots. You usually had fresh flowers on your coffee table, the ones there now from what he could tell looked a little wilted, so he made a note to pick you up something from the shop next to the grocery store when he goes out to restock his fridge.
He lightly treads past your kitchen- and the two different types of coffee makers you had lined up on the countertop- towards your bedroom.
Bradley could already see it in his mind’s eye. The curve of the dip of your waist as you slept under your white comforter with the light blue piping along the edges. Always with a foot kicked out. The framed picture of the two of you on your nightstand. The chair in the corner where your pile of folded-and-to-be-put-away-later clean clothes sat. Your dresser topped with some leafy green thing and your tray of jewelry, where you’d cleared out not one but three drawers - which was a whole half of wooden unit he’d helped you build when you first moved in- for him to use for his things. Not to mention space in your closest too and room on the shoe rack you kept in there.
It was more than what he needed, but that was you. You’d always been the type to go above and beyond for the people you cared about. But now it meant more because you weren’t just sharing your space with him, you were sharing your life with him.
The blinds aren’t pulled closed, so your room is illumined with more city light than he was expecting. And he can see with clarity that everything is in its place.
The picture of him kissing your cheek- your nose scrunched up in that way he knows so well- in the grassy park where you’d surprised him with a showing of one of his favorite movies on one of your first dates together. The white linen covered chair with your clothes had an old sweatshirt of his tossed over the back of it that he knows if he were to pick it up would smell more like you than him. The plant in the white ceramic vase on your dresser was one you’d bought at the farmer’s market almost two years ago now to commemorate your big move there, you’d proudly carried it around for the rest of the morning while he’d carried your ever-growing collection of bags.
Everything right where it should be, except for you.
Your bed is perfectly made up. Well, the side he usually sleeps on is. The are corners still tucked in with the same crisp precision you use to wrap presents. The right side, however, looks like the comforter and sheets were hastily thrown back, a rumpled pile of fabric in the spot where he thought you’d be sleeping.
There’s only one other place where you would be.
Bradley doesn’t even try to quiet his steps as he struts back towards the door with a new destination in mind. He shoves his feet back into his boots, not bothering to retie his laces, as he scoops his keys out of the little bowl he’d just put them in barely even five minutes ago. Only slowing down long enough to make sure he’s properly locked the door behind him before he’s back in the Bronco for the second time that night.
This time the drive feels like nothing. Especially since he hits green lights all the way there.
His lips turn up in an automatic smile when he sees your all-too-practical white Honda Civic parked in the drive way of his condo. He doesn’t think he could find the words to describe the feeling that wells up in his chest at the sight of it.
It just felt right.
Bradley lets himself in, using his own key this time.  
His condo had always felt more like a place to land, rather than a home. Over the last few months though that feeling has changed for him.
For Bradley’s whole life things have felt temporary. The people he met. The things he owned. The bases he lived on. You made him crave permanence in a way he’d never experienced before. The two of you had a couple decades worth of history, but he knew he couldn’t be truly content until his ring was on your finger and you shared his last name.
He can see your fingerprints in this space from the knit blanket draped on his couch to the framed print on the wall over the breakfast nook. He can see the promise of a future together in the fancier-than-he’s-used-to coffee maker on the kitchen counter.
It’s quiet, but not the empty kind.
The light above the stove is turned on illuminating the kitchen.
That was usually his final task of the night before going to bed. Flicking off the brighter overheads in exchange for the softer one that gave him just enough light to avoid crashing into things in the darkness if he woke up in the middle of the night and was on the hunt for something to eat or drink while still half-asleep.
Although it hits him now that he can’t remember the last time he’s turned it on himself.
It was something he’d noticed that you didn’t do at your own apartment when the two of you had first started sleeping together. But now if he thinks back on it, every glass of cool water out of the filtering pitcher you kept in the fridge and every bowl of late-night cereal he’s had that little light has been on to guide him into the kitchen while you slept peacefully in bed.
It’s a realization that lands squarely behind his ribcage.
Bradley kicks his boots off next to your sandals by the door and turns the lock back into place behind him. Normally, he’d take them up to be put away in their proper place, but for now he’s got other more important things on his mind.
He takes the stairs two at a time as soundlessly as he can, avoiding the step that sometimes pops. The first door on the left has been left slightly ajar, just wide enough for him to slip into.
there you are, his heart registers before his eyes do.
Tucked under the green comforter- with that one foot kicked out- on the wooden canopy bed he’d recently purchased is you.
He couldn’t fight back the smile on his face that the sight of you curled up there on his side of the bed, with your face pressed into his pillow, even if he wanted to.
Bradley still doesn’t know how he got to be so lucky that he gets to be the one to see you like this, at complete ease as you sleep, as relaxed in his bed as you are in your own. He’s grateful for every morning he gets to wake up with you and every night he gets to fall asleep with you in his arms.
It’s never been like this for him, not before you. It’s a good thing he’s already told you he loved you, otherwise he doesn’t think he could have been able to hold himself back from waking you up right here and now to tell you.
Quietly, he steps up the side of the bed, taking a moment to admire you looking soft and warm and like everything he could ever want. The few FaceTime calls the two of you had had over the course of the week couldn’t even begin to capture just how beautiful you were. Bradley leans down to brush a featherlight kiss against your temple and straightens back up. You let out a contented hmm, and he hopes you’re dreaming of him.
He’s never needed anything more than to be under those covers with you.
Bradley undresses quickly in the walk-in closet and strips down to his boxer briefs, leaving his khakis to decorate the floor until sometime later when the sun was back up in the sky. Realizing as he takes off his watch that in his rush to get here that he’d left his bag with all his other laundry by the door at your apartment. A grunt of exasperation escapes him, and he’s glad that you’re a deep sleeper and the fact he keeps his baseball bat in the garage. Especially since he’s the one that taught you how to power swing.
The only sound in the room is of your even breaths and his carpet-muffled footsteps as he pads across the room. He lifts up the covers on your side of them bed and slides into the cool sheets, the stiffness in his joints loosening at the contact, and scoots in closer until he can feel your warmth.
He’d been in San Diego for the better part of four hours now, but he hadn’t been truly home until about thirty seconds ago.
Bradley debates for a split-second whether or not to let you sleep or if he should wake you up so you’re not startled to find a 6’ 1” aviator back in bed with you. But he knows you well enough to make an educated guess. He murmurs your name, rubbing a hand gently up and down along your back, and presses his lips together when you let out a soft, sleepy sigh.
You jolt a little as you ease back into consciousness. “B-bradley?”
“It’s just me,” he hums in confirmation as he squeezes your hip, all sleep-warmed skin under his palm. He doesn’t miss the way you relax instantly against him at the sound of his voice, settling further back into him.
“You’re home early.” You reach back for him, your hand finding the base of his head, lightly scratching at his scalp as you weave your fingers through his hair.
“Mav either pulled some strings or took one for the team by staying another day, but we all jumped at the chance to get out of Le-snore early.” You let out a little snort at that.
“’re you hungry?” you offer sleepily, the words a bit slurred and strung together. “Do you want me to make you something?” Bradley is equal parts amused and endeared that you’re not even half way awake yet and wanting to look after him.
His sweet girl.
He presses an affectionate kiss on the back of your neck and wonders if you can feel his soft smile, the one that’s reserved for only you.
“Nah, I’m good,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder, “I promise.”
He’d snagged a couple protein bars from the mess on base and had scarfed them down as he filled out his overdue flight logs. But also, there was no way he was getting out of this bed now that he was in it. Not for anything in the world.  
Bradley leans in close, letting his lips skim against your ear, “You know this could count as breaking and entering, kid. Always knew that good girl thing was just an act.”
You lightly tug on his hair. “I don’t think that would hold up in court of law seeing as you gave me a key and all,” you retort, you voice still low and raspy from sleep.
“I’m pretty sure I gave my best friend a key,” he drawls, teasingly, “Don’t remember giving my girlfriend one though.” He drops a kiss to your soft-cotton covered shoulder. The shirt you were wearing was one he’d completely forgotten about until you sent him that picture of you in bed sometime past 2am in the early days of when you’d started dating, before the two of you had sex for the first time. His name was printed on the back- right at the very top- along with all the other players on the Washington High Cardinals baseball team from the year they’d won the championship. “Think ‘m going to have to fix that.”
You shake your head amused into his pillow before looking at him from over your shoulder and turning to lean back into his chest. When your eyes meet, there’s nothing but fondness reflected in them. Yours is a face he’s known most of his life, he could read you as easily as any book, and it’s even more apparent just a few inches away from his just how happy you are to see him.
He slides a hand around the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek as he drinks you in. His eyes travel over your forehead, and along the curve of your cheekbones, and down the bridge of your nose, and lands on the dimples framing your smile.
thereyouarethereyouare
Bradley dips down to kiss you for the first time in a week. Your lips part easily, like you’ve been waiting for this too. There’s no rush. Your kiss is slow like honey off a spoon. Just as sweet as it’s meant to be savored. And there’s no doubt in his mind that this was always how it was supposed to be.
You and him.
Him and you.
Together.
“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, warmly.
“Hi, Bradley.” You tilt your head up for another kiss, one he has no intention withholding from you. “I missed you.”
It’s a new feeling for him, knowing he has someone to miss him when he is away. And having someone to miss in return. It’s been a long time since he’s had that in any real way that truly mattered. Bradley knows he’s due for a deployment soon, one that’ll take him from you- from this bed- for months. He’s already found the perfect thing to give you for when he leaves, something to show you how he’ll be thinking of you. But he doesn’t want to dwell on that inevitable reality.
For now, he just wants to share your warmth and focus on the feel of you pressed against him. Enjoying the luxury of getting to have this with you.
He just lets himself hold you the way you deserve to be held. He lets himself kiss you the way you deserve to be kissed. He’ll love you the way you deserve to be loved for as long as you’ll have him.
“I missed you too.” Whispering your name because he likes feel of it in his mouth.
“I think I was having a dream about you,” you murmur against his lips.
Bradley grins. “Yeah? Was it dirty?” You laugh in response, it’s his favorite sound. Happy. You make him so damn happy. He buries his face in the nook where your neck meets your shoulder and breathes you in. Lavender and cedar. Your favorite lotion to put on before bed, and something of his that he can’t put his finger on. “Mm, you smell good.”
“I took a shower before bed, used your body wash,” you tell him, running your hand along his arm. He senses you smile before he hears it. “And you smell like Jake.”
He groans and rubs the coarse hairs of his mustache against the soft skin of your neck. You giggle and try to squirm away from his prickly retaliation, but he’s got you basically pinned to the bed now. All your perfect curves against his firm angles.
“I can’t believe he’s still using a black ice tree air freshener like a damn sixteen-year-old,” Bradley grumbles. As if him and Seresin hadn’t spent enough quality time together over the week, now he was basically in bed with him and his girlfriend.
“At least you’ll know what to get him for his birthday,” you offer less than helpfully, playfully nudging his foot with yours.
Bradley chuckles and props himself up on an arm to gaze at you. He can feel the need for sleep settling over him, the long day and the longer week catching up with him that now he’s home and here with you. He can tell you’re drowsy too from the dewy way you’re blinking at him, and appreciative that you’re indulging him in this bit of pillow talk. In the quiet of his bedroom, he admits, “I went to your apartment first.”
You look almost bashful when you say, “I like these sheets better.” Both of you know that’s not your real answer for why you’re in his bed instead of yours.
He lifts an eye brow, meaningfully. “You have the same ones at your place.” Bradley knows because he made sure to check and buy the same kind for his own bed.
“Semantics,” you reply, breezily. Although he catches a hint of a pleased smile before you lean into trail a few kisses along the underside of his jaw. “Do you want your side of the bed back?” you ask.
“It’s our bed, sweet girl. You can sleep wherever you want,” Bradley says, “I’m good just as long as I can hold my girl.”
You thumb at the dimple of his chin, gazing up at him, “Have you gotten much sleep this week?”
Bradley just hums in response.
The softest of looks coast over your face. Understanding, sympathy, tenderness. It’s all there painted on your face from the little furrow between your eyebrows to the thoughtful search in your eyes as you read his face in return. He didn’t even say a word and you’ve got him figured out.
You tug on his arm and turn back over, taking him with you. Snuggling in so that your body is cradled closer to his, his chest all but pressed against your back. He slides his arm under your pillow and finds your other hand, threading his larger fingers between your own.
He situates your pillow beneath his head, sighing as he gets comfortable on the supportive mattress. He runs his palm over the familiar dip of your waist as you stretch and burrow in further, getting ready to go back to sleep. His fingertips find the edge of your cotton underwear and he follows it over your hip and along the side of your stomach, slipping one under the band to stroke at the soft skin near your hipbone.
It's the same spot where he’d find you butterflies if the two of you weren’t reversed from the way you usually fall asleep facing the other direction. Their location was a pinpoint in his mind, memorized from the moment he’d seen them that very first night together. He liked imagining he could feel the delicate lines of them under his fingertips as he drifted to sleep.
He hears the almost inaudible catch of your breath at his touch. “In the morning,” he promises.
You make a half-hearted noise of dissatisfaction, already well on your way to falling back asleep. He feels more than a little self-satisfied that he’s the one getting these reactions from you, that you want his touch just as much as he wants yours.
“Tease.” You nestle in closer, your ass brushing against his cock in a way that leaves no question it had been done on purpose.
“Menace,” he chuckles, lightly.
You hum, a pleased sound and reach for his wrist, removing temptation for the both of you and slide his hand beneath your shirt right to the very spot above your bellybutton where he normal finds its drifted to during the night on the mornings he wakes up with you in his arms.
The two of you fit together better than he ever could have possibly imagined.
“Hey, kid, what’re you doing tomorrow? I wanted to take you to breakfast.”
“To the place with the banana pancakes?”
Kisses the crown of your head, and he thinks he hears you sigh. “Wherever you want.”
“I could get away with a little hooky,” you yawn, “Maybe we could go to the beach too. Wanna spend the day with you.”
Bradley pulls you in closer, and closes his eyes. “Sounds like a plan.”
“I can’t wait.” It’s more of a sleepy mumble than anything else, but he’s already looking forward to waking up.
He listens as your breathing slowly evens out, knowing when you’ve fully drifted off. It didn’t take you long, the way it never seems to when he’s in bed beside you.
Maybe one day soon he’ll get to have you here with him every night. But until then, this is more than enough, he’s happy to fall asleep with his dream girl tucked on his arm.
Bradley lets himself imagine the day where you come and stay and it’s for good this time, because all of your clothes are in the closet and your mail gets delivered along with his.
And it won’t be just his favorite dream, it’ll be his reality.
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I will never not be down bad for a smitten Bradley Bradshaw! Thank you to @yourlocalcringydaydreamer for sending the ask that inspired this soft fic!
Thank you for reading!
You can read more about these two or check out all of my stories here!
taglist:
@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted  @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange 
746 notes · View notes
lustingnerdydoll · 1 month ago
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New Years Challenge
Happy new years!
It’s here the new year denial note challenge
I want to ask the ghosts , few people who follow along, and anyone who stumbles in here to help me make start the new year with a bang and possibly make me more needy, desperate, humiliated, etc
For every note this post receives pushes me further down the path of denial degradation humiliation. Like, reblog, pass on
I’m setting high goals to see what can happen (if you have suggestions, thoughts, commentary -do share!)
Note counts ends at January 15th (unless Sir extends it)
5 notes: dress no panties
10 notes: dress no panties and plug
25 notes: plug and Ben wa balls to work
50 notes: tack bra, plug and Ben wa balls to work 
75 notes: short outing with my largest plug 
100 notes: clamp on cunt lips 1 hour, edge
125 notes: Every person that tells me my blog got them off, or that i help get off is a write up and a day without panties
150 notes: sleep with vibe and plug
200 notes: day out with my lush
225 notes: gym no panties
250 notes: lush link posted 
300 notes: day of tasks from tumblr completed in a week
325 notes:  tiger balm edge then on plug for the day
350 notes:  edge with panties on. edge with panties as a gag
400 notes: write a fantasy while edging, edge while reading it with clothespin on tongue-recorded audio
425 notes:   outing without a bra  
450 notes: blow job video no face
500 notes:  add another 100 days to denial or ask to go all of 2027 without orgasmm - whichever sir prefers
New countdown timer ending 2027 until I can cum in 2028
632 notes · View notes
doyouknowthisanime · 3 months ago
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Happy Halloween, everyone!
I've got some good news - I've finished tallying up the results of the favourite anime survey and can now, finally, reveal what Tumblr's favourite anime actually are. To start with, I'd like to thank everyone who responded - yes, all 1172 (wow!) of you - and to apologise for he delay in actually getting these results out. For anyone who needs a reminder, these results are based on how many points each anime received - a first place ranking was worth five points, a second or third place ranking was worth four, a fourth or fifth place ranking was worth three, a sixth-tenth place ranking was worth two, and a eleventh-twentieth place ranking was worth one. When multiple anime had the same number of points, the anime with the most first-place votes was placed higher. The results are below the read more right here - I hope you enjoy reading!
100. Yona of the Dawn - 82 points
99. Devilman Crybaby - 83 points
98. Monogatari Series - 83 points
97. Lucky Star - 84 points
96. Toradora - 84 points
95. Dr. Stone - 86 points
94. Princess Jellyfish - 86 points
93. ERASED - 87 points
92. Noragami - 87 points
91. Wolf's Rain - 88 points
90. Azumanga Daioh - 90 points
89. Paranoia Agent - 90 points
88. Odd Taxi - 91 points
87. Banana Fish - 93 points
86. Digimon Adventure - 95 points
85. Akira - 95 points
84. Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni - 95 points
83. Psycho-Pass - 96 points
82. Little Witch Academia - 96 points
81. Monster - 97 points
80. Mononoke - 98 points
79. Free! - 99 points
78. Kekkai Sensen - 99 points
77. Trigun Stampede - 102 points
76. Haibane Renmei - 103 points
75. Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters - 104 points
74. Gintama - 105 points
73. Violet Evergarden - 107 points
72. Dorohedoro - 113 points
71. Made in Abyss - 113 points
70. Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury - 113 points
69. Eizouken ni wa Te o Dasu na! - 115 points
68. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind - 116 points
67. SK8 the Infinity - 117 points
66. Samurai Champloo - 117 points
65. Your Name - 118 points
64. Castle in the Sky - 119 points
63. Perfect Blue - 119 points
62. Promare - 120 points
61. One Punch Man - 122 points
60. The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya - 126 points
59. Kiki's Delivery Service - 129 points
58. Kaguya-sama: Love is War - 136 points
57. Inuyasha - 136 points
56. Assassination Classroom - 142 points
55. FLCL - 143 points
54. Pokémon - 144 points
53. Death Parade - 148 points
52. Dragon Ball - 150 points
51. Natsume Yuujinchou - 157 points
50. The Apothecary Diaries - 158 points
49. Revue Starlight - 159 points
48. Durarara!! - 160 points
47. Yu Yu Hakusho - 162 points
46. Naruto - 163 points
45. Black Butler - 165 points
44. Attack on Titan - 167 points
43. Houseki no Kuni - 168 points
42. Steins;Gate - 172 points
41. Cardcaptor Sakura - 186 points
40. Code Geass - 186 points.
39. Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-Kun - 187 points
38. The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. - 192 points
37. Kill la Kill - 194 points
36. Bungou Stray Dogs - 194 points
35. Baccano! - 198 points
34. Bocchi the Rock! - 201 points
33. Chainsaw Man - 208 points
32. Demon Slayer - 209 points
31. Serial Experiments Lain - 213 points
30. Jujutsu Kaisen - 227 points
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29. Spy x Family - 236 points
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28. Howl's Moving Castle - 238 points
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27. Princess Mononoke - 240 points
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26. Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann - 241 points
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25. Sailor Moon - 249 points
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24. Mushi-shi - 249 points
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23. Princess Tutu - 254 points
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22. Nichijou - 263 points
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21. Trigun - 265 points
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20. Spirited Away - 266 points
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19. My Hero Academia - 266 points
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18. Fruits Basket (2019) - 269 points
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17. Soul Eater - 292 points
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16. Sousou no Frieren - 300 points
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15. Yuri!!! on Ice - 333 points
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14. Fullmetal Alchemist - 364 points
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13. Ouran High School Host Club - 374 points
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12. Death Note - 437 points
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11. Cowboy Bebop - 450 points
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10. Haikyuu - 457 points
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9. Neon Genesis Evangelion - 496 points
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8. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure - 496 points
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7. Hunter x Hunter (2011) - 516 points
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6. Revolutionary Girl Utena - 537 points
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5. One Piece - 633 points
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4. Puella Magi Madoka Magica - 664 points
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3. Mob Psycho 100 - 943 points
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2. Dungeon Meshi - 985 points
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Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood - 1106 points
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Congratulations to FMA Brotherhood for winning! For more detailed results, go to this spreadsheet. Once again, thank you all for participating, and waiting so patiently for the results!
516 notes · View notes
forwhomthewordsflow · 6 months ago
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Puppy Love
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modern!eddie munson x fem!reader
18+ ONLY MDNI
warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, a bit suggestive at some parts, language, more fluff
author’s note: this was totally meant to be a small lil blurb but then i ended up getting sucked into it and well…it ended up being a tiny bit longer than i thought.  also, there’s some legal jargon in here that i totally might’ve misused, don’t hate me! i’m not a lawyer i swear! anywho, i’m still pretty new to the whole writing thing so please go easy on me because i’m a crybaby
p.s. i stopped writing it in order to keep the word count from going through the roof, but if you guys would like a part two picking up right where this leaves off then i’m soooo into that, i really love these two!
word count: 5.3k
Let it be known, Eddie Waylon Munson was not a dog person.  This doesn’t mean that Eddie is a cat person either really, he’d actually be more inclined to categorize himself as a fish person, really.  Eddie can hardly take care of himself, who in the hell would think he could take care of another living being?
Steve fucking Harrington.  That’s who.
Under any other circumstances, Eddie would’ve turned him down in a heartbeat when he asked him to watch his Golden Retriever, Captain, for a week while he’s on vacation with his parents. 
“Dude, c’mon.  You owe me one.”
Eddie scoffed.  “Since when do I owe you one?”
“I–There must be something I’ve done for you…” Steve sighs ,”Haven’t I been letting you swim in my pool free of charge?”
“Yeah, me and every single other member of our party.”  Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, determined to stick to his answer of a hard no.
“Fine,” Steve huffs.  “What if I gave you three hundred bucks for it?”
At this new piece of information, Eddie perked up.  
“Well, well, well Harrington.  Why didn’t you just lead with that?”  The two boys shook hands, and that was that.
Eddie wishes he could’ve said no, but he unfortunately really needed the extra cash.  The weed business had been slow due to the fact that his usual richie-rich-asshole customers are all off “summering” with their rich families wherever it is that the rich families go to do that shit.  
Eddie figured that he could handle this.  Steve assured him that Captain is well trained thanks to the expensive trainers that his parents hired, plus Eddie would get to stay at Hotel de Harrington while he watched the dog.  Eddie will mind his business, Captain will do his own thing, and Eddie would be $300 richer at the end of it all.  Sweet digs and three hundred bucks is just something Eddie doesn’t have the heart to pass up these days.  
Eddie always manages to forget just how gi-fucking-normous the Harrington’s mansion house is.  As Steve leads him through the foyer and into the numerous hallways, Eddie figures he must look like he’s stepping into a house for the first time.  His jaw drops a little at the seemingly priceless artwork that hangs from the walls, the crystal vases lined up on shelves, and the expensive looking furniture placed meticulously all around the house.  He hopes to hell that he doesn’t find some way to fuck something up while he’s shacking up here.  
“I can’t believe you live in this art museum, Harrington.”
Steve scoffs.  “Yeah, it’s all nice and fancy until you think about the fact that all the dumb shit decorating this place could probably feed a small village.”
Eddie stifles a laugh, then hears an excited bark from the other room.
“Okay, time to meet the man himself.  Just warning you, he’s a hugger.”  Steve winks at Eddie and jogs to unlock the door to the backyard.  As soon as the glass door slides open, Eddie sees a blur of blonde fur coming towards him, and then all he can see is the ceiling.
Eddie quickly learns that this is because Captain has knocked him right on his ass.
Captain squirms on top of Eddie, trying his hardest to lick him all over his face and neck while Steve is bent over cackling at the whole ordeal. 
“Okay, okay buddy.  Thanks so much,” Eddie says unenthusiastically while glaring at Steve.  He gently shoves Captain off of him and stands back up, only to look down and realize that his all black outfit is now covered in little golden dog hairs.  This only causes Steve to laugh harder.
Steve straightens back up after being hunched over and sighs, “I warned you man,” then walks past Eddie and into the laundry room, clapping him on the shoulder as he goes.
Captain trots happily behind the boys as Steve shows Eddie where Captain’s food and water bowls are, how much to feed him and when, and where his leash and harness are.  Steve assures him that he doesn’t have to take Captain on a walk or anything if he doesn’t feel like it (he so does not), but he does have a grooming appointment scheduled on the day the Harrington’s set off on their vacation.
Eddie huffs at this revelation.
“I know man, I’m sorry.  My mom had apparently scheduled it months ago and forgot it was on the day we were leaving.  But it’s really easy I swear, you just drop him off at noon, and then pick him back up at three.  It’s already paid for and everything.”  Steve looks at Eddie apologetically, and Eddie figures it won’t be that bad.
Eddie was wrong.  He’s only been watching the dog for an hour and already he knows he’s not cut out for this shit.  Captain is stuck to Eddie like fucking velcro.  Who knew dogs could be so needy?  Eddie goes to sit on the couch?  Captain needs to sit right next to him.  Eddie needs to go to the kitchen to grab a drink?  Captain is practically stepping on his heels as he trails behind him.  Eddie has been pretty lenient so far, it’s only a week right?  But he’d had enough when Captain was demanding to follow him into the bathroom, pawing at the door and whining when Eddie wouldn’t let him in.  
Thank god for that goddamn grooming appointment.
Despite being only a couple hours into this gig, Eddie needed some alone time.  
Captain seemed just as excited to get out of the house when Eddie fought to put his harness on him.  He never thought he’d ever be spending a full ten minutes practically wrestling with a 70 pound dog, but Captain just wouldn’t sit still.  After all was said and done, Captain sat and waited next to the front door calmly, while Eddie emerged sweaty and breathing heavily.
The grooming salon ended up being only ten minutes away from Steve’s house, which Eddie was thankful for since Captain decided to sit shotgun and stare at Eddie the entire way over.  On the outside, the place looked fancy.  Eddie scoffed a bit at the Grecian columns bracketing the entrance, and the name of the salon printed in gold swoopy letters across the large window panes in the front.  He couldn’t believe people were willing to shell out enough cash to bring their dogs to a place like this all for a haircut.  Eddie looks over at Captain, who is of course staring at him…still, and sighs.
“Here goes nothing I guess.”
Eddie wrangles Captain out of his van and into the salon, hoping to God that these people wouldn’t be able to smell the poor on him.  
What actually occurred was quite the opposite.
Upon opening the glass doors, Eddie was hit with a whoosh of cool air and a small bell chimed to let the employees know that someone had walked in.  Captain was apparently very excited by the gust of air, and decided to jump in circles around and through Eddie’s legs.  While Eddie was caught up in detangling himself so he doesn’t fall flat on his face, he hadn’t noticed you walking up to them.  
“Hi there, need some help?” 
Eddie looked up and could’ve sworn he heard a choir of angels singing.
You stood there smiling at him, the prettiest girl Eddie had ever seen in his 24 years of life on Earth.  He doesn’t think he’d ever had someone smile at him like that before, but he knows he could definitely get used to it. 
While you were waiting for Eddie to respond, you noticed that his dog’s leash was still quite tangled around his legs.  Deciding to take things into your own hands, you take a few steps back and kneel down to the ground to call the dog to you.  He comes bounding up to you, causing his leash to slide smoothly out from under Eddie’s legs, rendering him untangled at last.
Eddie blinks, suddenly he’s untangled and Captain is jumping up onto you, ever the hugger.  
He finally gets his head out of his ass and jogs up to you, grabbing Captain’s leash and yanking him off of you.
“Bad boy, Captain.  We’re supposed to ask for consent before hugging pretty girls.”
Eddie is elated when he spots a blush crawling up your cheeks.  You stand and brush yourself off.
“It’s really okay.  Captain has my consent to hug me any time he wants!”  Your voice had risen to a puppy-talk octave, Eddie never imagined he’d find that so adorable.  You lean down again to scratch Captain behind the ears, and the dog looks up at you with stars in his eyes.  Eddie, having caught a whiff of your perfume as you bent down, is sporting the same look.
You straighten up with a happy sigh and look up at Eddie with a grin. 
“Well then, now that we’re all introduced, how can I help you?”
Eddie all at once forgets why he’s here, caught up in your beautiful gaze.  He feels like he should shield his eyes from yours, lest he burst into flames from taking in your beauty. 
“I’m—uh...I’m grooming.   N-no, that’s not right, sorry.”  You giggle quietly while he tries to finish his sentence.
Eddie laughs at his own stupidity.  
“Sorry.  He’s getting groomed, he should have an appointment under Harrington I think?”
“Sure, let me check on that.” You turn away from him to walk back towards the front desk, and boy is it a treat for Eddie.  You’re wearing a cute company t-shirt, white sneakers, and these perfect fucking denim jeans that cause Eddie’s to get a little tighter.  They must’ve been tailor-made for you with the way they’re hugging your thighs, your hips, your ass–
“Alright, I’m seeing that Captain is just here for his routine trim, yes?”  You look from your computer screen up at Eddie to find him already staring at you with his mouth slightly open.  The look on his face makes you giggle a bit, and this seems to snap him out of his daze.
“Uh, yes.  That sounds right.”  Eddie shakes his head a bit to rid himself of all the impure thoughts swirling around in there.  “I’m just bringing him in for a friend, so whatever’s on there should be right.”
You pretend to type some more as you try and find the will to push down the blush warming your cheeks.  You already clocked that he was gorgeous when he stumbled through the front doors, but how in the hell does he keep getting better?  You noticed the bulge of his bicep when he yanked Captain off of you, the warm chestnut color of his eyes, and now his super-sexy-deep voice?  Being turned on at work was not on your agenda today…
After a few seconds of nonsense typing and very deep breaths, you look back up at Eddie to find him smiling at you.
“That’s really sweet of you, to help out your friend.”
Eddie puffs out his chest (as though he hasn’t been mentally complaining about watching Steve’s dog for multiple hours).  
“Yeah, I do what I can to help.” Eddie shrugs his shoulders in a way he hopes comes across as ’Yeah baby, I’m just a helpful guy.  Super nice, super sweet, definitely boyfriend material..’
You grin and finish getting Captain all checked in.  
“Alrighty!  Captain’s all good to go.  I can get him taken back and then we’ll see you in three hours.”  
Your sweet smile has Eddie captivated until he realizes you’re holding your hand out for Captain’s leash.  Eddie reluctantly hands it over, because now he has to wait a whole three hours to see you again.  You take the leash, wave ‘bye’ to Eddie, and walk through the door that leads to the rest of the salon.  Eddie lets out a deep sigh.
Goddamnit.
Three hours turned out to feel more like three days when it meant waiting to see your face again.  Eddie arrived fifteen minutes early to the salon (a first) and waited anxiously for Captain’s scheduled pickup time to roll around.  Eddie strutted into the salon not a second too late before screeching to a halt.
In your place, stood a much older, much rounder lady.  Eddie deflated a little, cursing himself for not finding out if you’d even be here at this time.  He huffs out a breath, and begins walking up to the front desk. 
Then, a thought pops into his head.
Maybe, if he’s nice enough, he can ask the older woman about you.  Then at least he’d have your name and maybe even when you were working next!
Eddie decides it’s time to amp up the ol’ Munson Charm.
His tentative walk turns into a swagger-filled stroll as he reaches the front desk.  Eddie leans on an elbow and smiles a devilish smile down at the woman.  She looks up at him with wide eyes as he dings the silver bell that sits on the desk, winking at her while he does it.
“H-How can I help you sir?”
“Oh sweetheart, please…call me Eddie.”  He goes on after she spends a moment too long gazing up at him, “And who might you be?”
She gulps and straightens her horned glasses.  “B-Betty.  Betty Brown.”
“Hello, Betty Brown,” Eddie can tell his charming smile is having an effect on her, and he’d be lying if it wasn’t boosting his ego a tiny bit.  “I’m here to pick up my dog, Captain.  Brought him by a few hours ago to get his haircut…you know how he likes to impress the ladies.”
Betty nods and takes a deep breath before turning to the computer to try and hide her smile. 
“Okay, Mr. Eddie.  I checked him out with the card on file, he should be up here shortly.” 
“Thanks, sweetheart.” Eddie waits a moment, before launching into his plan.  “I was actually hoping you could help me with a little something else.” 
Betty looks back up at him, blushing when they make eye contact.
“See, when I was in here earlier, there was a really nice girl helping me out.  But, silly me, I completely forgot to ask what her name was.”
To Eddie’s delight, Betty’s face lights up in recognition.  She says your name with so much glee that it’s obvious to him how loved you must be around here.
“Yes, she got off an hour ago.  She usually works the morning shifts, except on Fridays because those are her days off.”
Eddie quickly learned that underneath Betty’s bashful smile was a woman who loved to talk, and he couldn’t be happier for it.  Eddie quickly learned how long you’ve worked here, that you don’t have any pets of your own, and that last Christmas you brought the most delicious homemade cookies for the entire staff.  He also learned that you’ll be working again for the next two mornings.  
Eddie left with Captain and a smile on his face, but not before pressing a kiss to sweet, sweet Betty’s hand.  Thanks to her, Eddie’s confidence is restored and he actually thinks he might have a shot with you.  All he has to do now is figure out what his reasons will be for coming back to the salon two days in a row.  
He spent all evening pacing around the Harrington’s house trying to come up with excuses to come see you.  All of the ones he’d thought of so far made him look like even more of a jackass than he did today.  
I thought I might’ve dropped my wallet somewhere around here.  A gorgeous girl isn’t going to want to go out with a guy who drops his shit everywhere.  Pass.
I think Captain needs a little more of a haircut, maybe just another half inch off?  First of all, Eddie doesn’t know shit about haircuts.  He’s been doing his own with kitchen scissors in his bathroom mirror for over a decade.  Second, he would never risk potentially offending you and your work as a dog groomer on the off chance that you’re the one who cut Captain’s hair.  And lastly, for a dog, he’s got to admit that Captain looks pretty damn good after his appointment.  Who knew a dog could look so regal and majestic?  Anyways, PASS.
It was only after Eddie had plopped down on the leather couch with a huff of defeat that he heard the first few plinks of raindrops hitting the windows.  Eddie went to his phone to check the forecast for the rest of the night, and as luck would have it, there was a 100% chance of thunderstorms until tomorrow morning.  As all the pieces of his new plan began stitching themselves together, Eddie finally allowed himself to relax.
Eddie used to hate his “backyard,” if you could even call it that.  Behind the trailer was a medium sized patch of dirt, with some sorry-looking green plant-things trying their best to survive scattered about.  The only times Eddie would really look forward to going outside to play as a kid, much to Wayne’s dismay, was when it rained.  Because when it rained, the once dry and grainy surface turned into slippery, messy mud.  Eddie used to love sliding around and making mud pies and all of that stuff, and right now it seems like Captain is having just as much fun, if not more, than Eddie used to.  
The yard was fenced in, so Eddie wasn’t too worried about Captain running away despite Steve’s promises that he’s ‘leash-trained’.  Eddie planned to tell you otherwise though.
‘He just somehow managed to get away from me.  Yeah, I had to chase him all through the mud and dirt this morning.  But I caught him because I’m like, really fast and strong and stuff.’
He does feel a little guilty about lying to you.  But he figures that if it’s something the two of you can laugh over at your wedding someday, then it’s well worth the little white lies.
Eddie’s brought back from his reverie of you in a long, white dress by Captain dropping the mud-soaked tennis ball at his feet…again.
He couldn’t believe how much energy this dog had.  They’d already been out here for twenty minutes and Captain just kept going and going.  Eddie did have to admit, it was sort of fun watching him play.  He even found himself laughing out loud when Captain would get the ball stuck in a puddle of mud and not hesitate to dunk his entire head in to retrieve it.  There was even one point where Captain got so excited and amped up that he just zoomed around in circles over and over again. 
Maybe dogs aren’t so bad after all.
After another ten minutes of chasing around the now mud-covered tennis ball, Captain decides he’s done playing and sits down at Eddie’s feet.  Eddie can’t help but notice that he’s panting pretty hard.  “You must be thirsty, huh?”
Eddie runs inside the trailer to grab a tupperware bowl and fills it with cold water from the tap.  He hopes to god that Captain hasn’t run away already, he’s decided to really put Steve’s whole “leash training” thing to the test.  But sure enough, when Eddie shoves his front door open there he is, sitting nicely at the foot of the trailer’s steps.  Eddie pats his head, then promptly wipes the flaky, dried mud off onto his jeans.  “Good boy.” 
After Captain is done drinking water, Eddie looks him over to ensure that he is completely and totally covered head-to-toe in mud.  Letting out a satisfied sigh, he decides that it’s time for the next stage of his plan to take action.  
He loads Captain into the back of his van (Eddie makes sure to drive especially slow, and Captain pretty much lays down the whole time) and he sets off towards the salon.  
Eddie is practically vibrating with anticipation as he puts his van into park.  He’s ecstatic when he sees your beautiful face smiling after two customers as they exit the salon.  Eddie turns around in his seat to see Captain.
“Okay, buddy.  It’s showtime.  I need you to bring your A-game and be a real good wingman for me in there.  Got it?”
Captain tilts his head at Eddie, as though he didn’t understand a thing he said, but then straightens up and lets out a firm bark.  A laugh bursts out of Eddie as he turns the van off and goes to get Captain from the back.  Before rounding the side of his van, and while he’c completely out of your sight, he does a quick smell test on his pits and breath, and then double checks his hair and teeth in the reflection of his rear windows.  After deeming himself presentable, he takes a big deep breath.
“Don’t be stupid, Munson.  Think charming thoughts,” he says under his breath as he starts towards the front door.  
You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t sticking around fifteen minutes after your shift was over yesterday in the hopes that Eddie would decide to come back early to pick up Captain.  It’s rare that a guy comes into the salon who looks to be around your age and single, but it’s much rarer that they’re as good-looking as Eddie is.  You spent the entire drive home and the rest of the night fantasizing about his voice, his big hands, his laugh.  You wondered what he did while he waited for Captain’s appointment to be done, what his favorite movie was, his favorite food…But most of all, you wondered if you were making up this mutual attraction in your head?  The nervous stuttering and blushing could just be from nervousness, but he was definitely staring at you a few times.  You also wonder whether or not you had actually caught him staring at your ass…but maybe it’s best not to get ahead of yourself.  Maybe he has a girlfriend.  Maybe he doesn’t even see you that way?  Maybe you should get a grip because you’re basing all of this delusion fantasy off of a ten minute conversation you had with the guy.  Leave it to you to construct a made-up scenario in your head after a short interaction with a new crush.
Be that as it may…you still made sure to carve out an extra half hour to get ready for your shift today.  You blow-dried your hair using your fancy products, spent quite a bit of time on your makeup, and spritzed some perfume on before you left.  You even made sure to wear the same jeans as you did the day before, just in case he was looking. 
The first half of your shift was spent hunched over the front desk, it was an extremely slow day so far.  You found yourself perking up a bit whenever a dark haired individual would walk by the front of the salon, only to droop back down again at the realization that it wasn’t who you wished it was.  With all the rain that came down in Hawkins last night, you figured more people would be making last minute appointments to have their dogs bathed, you’d hoped that today would be busy enough to keep your mind from wandering to a certain pair of warm, brown eyes.  But as your shift crawled towards the halfway point, suddenly things started looking up.
As excited as you were to spot a familiar gorgeous man walking into the salon again, you couldn’t conceal the look of shock on your face once your eyes landed on his mud-covered companion.
“Oh–oh my god!”  Eddie couldn’t quite read your expression, but he was relieved to hear a laugh bubble out of you after your exclamation.  He stood there sheepishly for a moment before he remembered his plan: Be. Charming.
You walk out from behind the desk with a hand covering your mouth, not quite believing what you were seeing.  There stood Captain, proudly smiling and panting, covered head to paw in mud.  Another laugh bubbled out of you, and you were pleased to find Eddie laughing with you.  
Goddamnit, that’s a sexy laugh he’s got.
“What…what happened to you?” You say to Captain, bending down to gently pat his head. 
“This absolute miscreant here got out of the house this morning and found himself a nice, muddy yard to roll around in.”  Eddie looked at you with a grin that made your knees weak.
He looked you up and down while you straightened back up.  Was there a way for someone to get a thousand times more beautiful overnight?
A blush rose to your cheeks as you caught him checking you out.  That settles it, he’s definitely flirting with you.  If he can be so forward about it, maybe you can too.
You look up at Eddie through your lashes, making sure to flutter them a couple times for good measure.
“Aw.  And here I was thinking you’d gotten him all dirty just so you could come and see me again.”
Eddie stills.  
Fuck, he can’t believe how hot you are. 
 Fuck, was his plan really that shitty?  Did you just call him out?  
Eddie’s panicking is subdued by your quiet giggle.  Thank god, you were kidding.
“It’s a good thing you managed to catch him, he looks like the type to go on an adventure in the woods.”  Eddie startles, quickly realizing he’d been full-on staring at you while conducting his mental freak-out.
“Oh, yeah.  I’m–like….fast…” Eddie can feel himself getting lost in your eyes as you stare up at him.  His words trail off into oblivion, nothing else exists other than your pretty smile, the little crinkles next to your eyes, your lips…
Holy shit, is Eddie staring at your lips right now?  Is he going to kiss you?  God, you hope he does, you’ve been fantasizing about his lips for hours now.  You can’t let him kiss you right here in the lobby…can you?
Eddie shakes his head a little, breaking himself from the trance you put him under.  
“Ahem, yeah,” Eddie loudly cleared his throat ,”It was no big deal, really.  He’s a good dog, came right back after he realized he was in the wrong.”  Eddie looked down at Captain, only to find him looking right back up at him, obviously judging him for his outright lies.  Eddie looks up at you, shrugging and shaking his head disapprovingly.  He lets out a big, over dramatic sigh ,”I just don’t know what I’m gonna do with this one.”
“Well it’s obviously not his fault,” you reply, “Look at that face!  That face could never do anything wrong.  I should know, I’m actually his lawyer.”  Eddie spots your poorly concealed smirk and decides to jump head first into this bit with you, excited to see if you can keep up.
“Oh really?”  He crosses his arms and takes a tiny step towards you.  This causes his t-shirt to pull taught around his arms, accentuating his biceps.  Your mouth waters a bit.
“Yes, really.  My client is as innocent as they come.”  You place your hands on your hips and look up at him with a level of sass Eddie had no idea you were capable of.  He decides that he loves it. 
“Huh, that’s interesting.  I totally object.” 
“Are you implying that he acted with intent?  Are you attempting to slander my client?” You place your hand on your chest in a “pearl-clutching” type of way, Eddie stifles a laugh.
“I am indeed.  He knew exactly what he was doing when he ran out that door, the evidence is all over his fur,” Eddie replies.
“My client was just following his nose, any mess that ensued was purely circumstantial.  He is innocent of any and all wrongdoing.”  Eddie feels like he’s got stars in his eyes, he can already picture you fitting in so perfectly into a DnD campaign.  You take his pause as a sign to bring your argument home.
“This is a clear case of prosecutorial overreach.  My client was acting in the best interest of the household, ensuring that the yard was thoroughly inspected for potential threats, pests, intruders, or otherwise.  Any mud on his fur is merely a badge of his dedication to home security.”  You cross your arms, clearly having won this fake-case.  
Eddie takes a step back and starts a slow clap.  You take a tiny bow and burst into a fit of giggles.
“I’m impressed, sweetheart.” You hope Eddie doesn’t see how affected you are by that nickname.  “Where the hell did all the legal jargon come from?”
“I used to watch a lot of Law and Order.”  You look down, suddenly shy with a sparkly feeling in your chest.  You really hope you didn’t come across as super weird.  It’s been a while since you’ve been able to have banter like that with someone else.  Hawkins isn’t a very diverse place, and you’ve found that the majority of the people living here tend to be pretty cookie-cutter conservative.  It feels great to let loose a little with someone you’re interested in, you just hope you’ll get more opportunities to do it.
Eddie, on the other hand, can’t stop looking at you.  Is this what falling in love feels like?  The girls in this town all seem to have made their own assumptions and come to their own conclusions about Eddie: he’s a devil worshiper, a satanist, a hookup to check off their bucket list and then never speak to again.  But not you, obviously.  You don’t look at him with the same disgust in your eyes as everyone else in this town does.  Your eyes are full of a kindness and warmth that Eddie could see himself getting used to.
“So, uh,” Eddie rambles, “What’s the verdict for Mr. Captain?”  Captain perks up at the sound of his name, you giggle at the tilt of his head.
“Hm,” You tap your finger to your chin and look off into the distance, “I think a nice, relaxing bath would do.  Maybe a couple treats, too, for being such a good boy.”  You squat down to Captain’s height to scratch him behind the ears, and Eddie can’t help but cringe a little at the flakes of dried mud that drift down off of Captain’s head and onto the floor.
You grab Captain’s leash from Eddie as you stand back up, walking him over to the desk to get him checked in at the computer.  He’s delighted to discover that you’re wearing the same pair of jeans as you were yesterday, and he mentally kicks himself for sneaking another peek at the way your hips sway as you walk.  Eddie deflates a little at the realization that this might be the end of this interaction.  He never wants to stop talking to you.  
“I’m guessing the card on file is what we’ll be using today?”  You ask sweetly, looking up at Eddie.
“Uh, yeah.  Yeah that’s just fine, thank you.” 
Holding eye contact with Eddie, you murmur “,You’re very welcome,” with a smile.
Oh, Eddie is so totally fucked.
Eddie watches as you walk Captain to the hallway door and hand his leash off to a younger girl.  You happily trot back up to the front desk and lean on it with your smiling face resting in your hands.
“Oh, you– you’re not giving him his bath?” Eddie stammers out.
“Nope.” You reply, popping the ‘p.’ “I’m stuck on front desk duty today.”  
Eddie sighs, relieved that your conversation might not be over.  He puts his elbows on the counter and leans towards you a bit. “Well, it can’t be all that bad.”
Your smile widens and you tilt your head, “I think it’s starting to get better.”
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@anukulee @josephquinnsfreckles
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jellychannie · 28 days ago
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Happy Birthday, Love.
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Jel's Birthday Special 2025!
ft. barou shoei, yukimiya kenyu, rin itoshi, reo mikage, zantetsu tsurugi, ego jinpachi (separate)
~ how they would be on your special day!
cw: GN reader, est. relationship, aged up charas (21+) except zantetsu and obv ego, might be ooc, inconsistent, not proof read, boyfriend! barou, husband! yukimiya, suitor! rin itoshi, fiancé! reo, best friend! zantetsu, coworker! ego
wc: 1364 (about 100-300 individually!)
note: it's my birthday! (1/8) and my head just popped up with an idea to create these scenarios with my bllk top 5 + ego!! enjoy!
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Your boyfriend, Barou would wake up early before you, tidying up the already tidy shared space. He'd make you a stack of pancakes, plating it like he's some Michelin-Star chef.
He soon woke you up with a kiss on the forehead, his deep voice the first thing you hear for the day. You'll definitely hear much more. “Happy Birthday, my queen,” he muttered against your face. It was a simple greeting, but it was Barou so everything wasn't too simple.
He kept his hair down the whole day, just for his partner. You two went out the whole day, venturing around malls, museums, any place your pretty little brain wanted to take you. His pockets might've had a close call with drought, but it was all worth it for you.
When you two came home, you were met with a surprise party with the people closest to you. You'd kiss him and say it's the best birthday ever, but when you turned back to him, he was already down on one knee.
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Yukimiya's the type to stay up with you until the clock strikes 12. He'd be the first to greet you, planting a bunch of gentle kisses along your face, “happy birthday, my sweet.” he mumbled between kisses, his arms all around you as you two sat in bed.
And in the morning, he'd sleep in with you. If he woke up before you, Yukimiya would pull you closer to him, his eyes tracing over your face. He tucked a strand behind your ear, and laid there until you woke up.
He'd wake you up at noon if you continued to sleep in until late, not wanting to delay his plans further, as much as you enjoyed sleeping. He'd let you get dressed and soon took you out to a museum on one of your interests.
When it got dark, he took you to a restaurant, nothing too fancy, but he knew it was your favorite place. It was a day worth remembering, where you two ended up stargazing on your apartment's balcony until late with him.
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Rin called you early in the morning, telling you to get dressed nicely by noon after a pleasant “happy birthday,” with his nice, smooth voice.
Noon time soon came in, and Rin knocked on your door, hands busy holding on a few boxes and bags. He walked into your home, setting down the boxes on the coffee table.
“Explain yourself,” you demanded, meeting his softened gaze.
“Why not?” He replied.
He was only courting you (so far) and just couldn't call you his (yet…), so he shows himself as one capable provider. He saw your lists, so he decided to save you the burden and buy it all for you. At once.
When asked on how he got them, the exact types you wanted (some of them were the limited edition ones too, and the offsales), he just shook his head, saying it was some wild guess. “Since you liked this color, I decided why not?” He lied.
He's kept a little list of your wants, hoping to buy them one by one as the months pass, but something possessed him to buy everything.
When you looked at him with a gentle gaze, his heart started to beat rapidly. You started expressing your gratitude to him, hugging him all of a sudden. His heart was booming, it was obvious he was whipped. He can't help but muster out a little smile, and you bubbled with laughter at the sight of it.
His boiling point was when you suddenly pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. When you pulled away, you were caught off guard when he suddenly dropped to the floor.
His face was red like a tomato, all flustered and silent. He didn't seem like the type to faint, but here he was. You two ended up cancelling outdoor plans, staying inside and ordering food.
Someone so stoic like Rin, all flustered over a kiss. It was your birthday, but the day felt like an entire win to him. After all, he now has a partner before the clock struck into the next day.
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“Happy birthday, Darling,” your fiancé wrapped his arms around you as you cooked. The next thing he said almost made you drop the ladle, “What do you think about going to Hawaii?”
Reo would set up an entire itinerary months before your birthday, what to do, where to stay, until when? Heck, he could go for forever if you loved the place.
When he said that he was planning an absolute banger of a trip, you worried about the luggage. But well, being impulsive may or may not be along the lines of being prepared. He helped you pack your clothes, and the other items before practically running out the door, into the car, and out into the airport.
You'd look at Reo, absolutely puzzled as to why he'd suddenly go all out, when he definitely had just spoiled you in the past occasion. He shrugged, acting like it's some normal occurrence in his life.
Once you two had arrived in the hotel after hours of travel, he'd look at you in admiration before bringing out the plan of an entire helicopter ride around the island.
After an exhilarating day, he cuddled up to you in the bed, the view outside evident from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the room. “I love you so much, can't wait to marry you,” was the last thing you heard before falling asleep.
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“Happy Bath Day,” he said confidently, adjusting his glasses. You looked at him, amused. At least there was the effort.
“You mean birthday? Thanks,” you replied.
“Yes, birthday. That's what I mean,”
Zantetsu was the first one to greet you through text at 12AM, and he was waiting at your doorstep to start your daily journey to school.
He stuck with you throughout the day, watching every single interaction you had. In classes, you noticed he was trying to listen closely in classes, but the audible grumble every now and then told you otherwise.
Once the school day was done, Zantetsu was quick to pull you out of the building, taking you to a secluded area in the school.
“Uhm,” he coughed. He was about to continue when he stopped himself, opening his bag and taking something out of it. A plain white envelope was soon in his hands, offering it to you.
He wouldn't allow you to open it– yet. He would slip on his own words, before ultimately sputtering out “I like you.”
He soon let you read the letter, as you processed what had been going on. You then realized as you read the letter, that this guy really had feelings for you.
Safe to say, you felt the same, and now you'd be beside your favorite himbo at all times. After that, he treated you to your favorite snacks at the convenience store.
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“Happy birthday, diamond in the rough,” he'd say to you, setting down a cooking cup of instant ramen on your desk. You had been working overtime, monitoring Blue Lock's current upbringing, and seeking for any possible improvements to the project. 
Diamonds in the rough, a name he calls the boys, but you were the Diamond. Singular, in the rough. It wasn't too much of a difference to you, but you were too oblivious to him. 
Ego would ask you to work next to him that day, and he ended up taking your workload, saying it's just a “typical thing I gotta do,” which left you with your noodle cup next to his, and a stack of papers already sidelined. 
That was probably when you realized what Anri had meant when he didn't treat anyone else like this. Everytime you made a comment, he'd reply to it in agreement, instead of correcting everything. 
You thought it was just some special treatment you had for your birthday, but you didn't think so when he offered the seat next to him at Blue Lock's next games. You were his diamond, after all. He was just waiting when you'll actually realize what his intentions were.
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thank you for reading! reblogs are really appreciated!!!
masterlist
jellychannie 2025
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fr0stf4ll · 6 months ago
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Forge of Starlight - Part 1
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paring; Azriel x reader
summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.
word count ; 4k
notes; This is my first time writing fan fiction. I hope that you guys will like it, and since English isn't my first language, please don’t hesitate to mention any mistakes <3. The story takes place when Rhys was in the early stages of being the High Lord of the Night Court, around 300-350 years old, so 200 years before ACOTAR actually began. I'm not sure yet how many parts this story will have, but I hope that you all will keep reading it ;)))
here is the link for part 2
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The sound of hammer striking hot iron echoed through the narrow streets of Velaris, mingling with the melodies of the city—the distant hum of conversation and the ever-present whisper of the Sidra River. Within the heart of the Rainbow, a district renowned for its vibrant arts and crafts, a new shop had begun to draw attention. It was an unassuming place at first glance, yet the sheer force of energy within its walls set it apart. This was no ordinary smithy.
You wiped a bead of sweat from your brow, your hands expertly maneuvering the red-hot blade beneath your hammer. Sparks flew with each strike, the heat from the forge wrapping around you like a lover’s embrace, both comforting and overwhelming. The rhythmic clang, clang, clang of metal against metal was music to your ears, a symphony you had been conducting since childhood.
Velaris was in your blood. Though you had been born here, your early memories were of the forge and the sound of your master's hammer. Your mother, a powerful and kind high fae, had died giving birth to you, and your father, unable to bear the weight of his mate’s passing, had followed soon after. You had been raised by a close friend of your father’s, a Master in the art of blacksmithing, who had taken you in as his own. It was under his watchful eye that you learned the craft, your small hands gradually growing strong and sure as you worked beside him, day after day.
With your master, you had traveled across the courts and to the far reaches of the continent, learning from smiths of every kind, studying techniques and secrets long forgotten by most. But no matter where you went, Velaris always called to you. And now, after hundred years of honing your skills, you had returned to the City of Starlight to forge your own path.
The shop itself was a reflection of your work—functional, yet beautiful in its simplicity. The front room was a gallery of sorts, with weapons and tools displayed like pieces of art. Gleaming swords, daggers with intricately carved hilts, and axes that looked as though they could fell the mightiest of trees hung from the walls, each one a testament to your skill. The floor was of polished wood, dark and smooth, with rugs from the weavers of Velaris adding warmth to the space. The light streamed in through tall windows, catching on the steel and iron and casting a soft glow across the room.
The shop had been open for only a few months, yet it had already begun to stir curiosity among the citizens of Velaris. Word spread quickly in the Rainbow—whispers of the new blacksmith who had come to claim a place among the best. But you rarely dealt with the customers yourself. That task fell to Alexander, your young apprentice. At only ten years old, he was sharp as a blade and twice as charming, with a quick smile and a mischievous glint in his eye. The boy had a knack for reading people, knowing just what to say to put them at ease—or to convince them that they needed a new sword or dagger.
As you plunged the heated blade into a trough of water, the hiss of steam rising into the air, you heard the familiar chime of the shop’s bell and the light patter of Alexander’s footsteps as he went to greet the newcomer. You allowed yourself a small smile as you heard his cheerful voice, already launching into his well-practiced routine.
“Welcome to the finest smithy in Velaris!” Alexander’s voice rang out, full of enthusiasm. “You won’t find better craftsmanship anywhere in the city—or the continent, for that matter. What are you looking for today? A sword? A dagger? Or maybe something a bit more… unique?”
There was a pause, and then a voice, low and measured, responded, “I’m looking for the blacksmith.”
Your hands stilled, your grip tightening around the hilt of the blade you had been shaping. It was rare that someone asked for you directly. Most customers were content to browse, to admire the work and perhaps make a purchase. But something in the tone of that voice, the way it cut through the air, sent a shiver down your spine.
“Ah,” Alexander said, his voice tinged with a hint of surprise. “You’re in luck. She’s right here. Let me fetch her for you.”
You took a deep breath, wiping your hands on a cloth as you made your way toward the front of the shop. The bell above the door chimed softly as it closed, and you stepped into the light, your eyes adjusting to the brightness. Alexander was standing by the counter, his wide eyes flicking between you and the figure standing in the center of the room.
As you rounded the corner, you finally laid eyes on the stranger. The words of welcome you had been preparing died on your lips as your gazes locked, and you felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over you, as if this meeting had been fated long before you had returned to Velaris.
Alexander, sensing the shift in the air, stepped back slightly, his usual exuberance giving way to a quiet curiosity. “This is Y/N,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “The best blacksmith in Velaris.”
The stranger’s eyes never left yours, and you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for whatever would come next. He took a step closer, towering over you despite your own considerable height, his presence imposing. His dark hair contrasted sharply with his piercing violet eyes that seemed to take in everything with a single glance.
“Y/N,” he began, his voice smooth and rich, hinting at depths of authority and power. “I’ve heard much about your work, and I find myself in need of your particular expertise.”
The chill from the incoming winter seemed to linger around him, a reminder of the cold that had swept through Velaris with the approach of the Winter Solstice. Despite the warmth of the forge, you felt a shiver run through you—not from the cold, but from the intensity of his gaze.
“I’m honored, my lord,” you replied, maintaining eye contact, feeling the weight of his presence. “What can I do for you?”
Rhysand’s expression was serious, and his next words carried an air of significance. “The Solstice celebrations are approaching, and with the colder days upon us, I’d like to commission two sets of weapons—a sword and a dagger—for my brothers. I want them to be special, crafted with the utmost care and consideration for their owners.”
Your mind whirred with ideas, but you needed more information to tailor each piece to its future owner. “To create something truly fitting, I’ll need to know more about your brothers. What are their personalities like, and what are their preferences in combat?”
Rhysand’s face softened slightly as he spoke of Cassian and Azriel. “Cassian is a warrior through and through—strong, fiercely loyal, and a born leader. His weapon should reflect that strength and his role within the Illyrian legions.”
You nodded thoughtfully, picturing a sturdy, bold design for Cassian’s sword. “And Azriel?”
“Azriel operates in the shadows, precise and strategic. His weapon should be subtle yet deadly, embodying his role as spymaster.”
A smile flickered across your face. “I have the perfect idea for him—a sleek design with a hidden element, perhaps.”
Rhysand’s approving nod encouraged you to continue. “Since those two are illyrian maybe we can include syphons in the design. It might be best to work with their olds ones. If you could send those to me, I can restore them and integrate them into the new weapons, preserving their familiar feel while enhancing their function.”
“That sounds ideal,” Rhysand agreed. “I’ll arrange for some of their old syphons to be brought to you tomorrow. They are quite worn but hold significant meaning for my brothers.”
You glanced up at him, reassured by his confidence in your abilities. “I’ll ensure the weapons reflect both their personalities and their needs.”
Rhysand’s smile was genuinely warm now. “Thank you, Y/N. I look forward to seeing your craftsmanship.”
With that, he turned to leave, his cloak swirling around him as he stepped out into the cold Velaris air, leaving a trail of frost in his wake. The bell above the door chimed softly, signaling his departure.
Standing in your forge, you felt the weight of the responsibility settle onto your shoulders. This commission was more than just a job; it was a chance to craft pieces that would be carried by some of the most formidable warriors in the Night Court. You had done works for other lords, kings or fighters, but every time a new challenge would come up your excitement increased so much. The idea of those people working with your creations was just incredible. 
As the cold seeped into the shop, you turned back to your workbench, pulling out parchment and charcoal. Your sketches began to take shape, influenced by the discussion and your insights into the characters of the two brothers. Powerful, elegant, and deadly—just like the men they were meant for.
The forge called to you, and as you answered, diving into your work, you felt a sense of purpose. These weapons would be more than just tools; they would be extensions of the warriors themselves, forged with skill and imbued with the spirit of the Winter Solstice.
After a few more hours of work and locking up the smithy, you and Alex headed up to your cozy apartment. It was adorned with all the comforts of a true craftsman's home—polished wooden floors, local Velaris art, and big windows that showcased the night sky. Your personal collection of swords decorated the walls, each blade a story from your past travels with your old master.
At the foot of your bed lay Stellan, your faithful direwolf companion. His thick, snow-white fur contrasted sharply with his deep, dark eyes that held a world of wisdom and loyalty. You had found him as a pup during one of your early travels—a small, shivering ball of fur huddled against the cold. From that moment on, Stellan had been by your side, growing into a majestic creature whose presence was as comforting as it was formidable.
Your apartment, while only boasting two bedrooms, mostly saw both you and Alex sharing the larger one. Alex had claimed a corner of it with his makeshift bedding, but as the night deepened, he inevitably migrated to your bed, preferring its warmth and the company.
Tonight, you were sitting in bed with your sketchbook, the moonlight and candlelight mingling to create the perfect ambiance for drawing. Stellan's gentle snores provided a soothing background hum, his large form curled protectively at the bed's end. Alex, lying next to you, propped himself up on an elbow to get a better look at your work.
"So, Nana, this one’s going to be for the High Lord, huh?" Alex's voice was soft, filled with awe and curiosity.
"Yeah, it is," you nodded, continuing your sketch. "Every piece needs to be perfect, though, no matter who it’s for. Whether it's a High Lord or a local warrior, they all deserve the best." Despite the illustrious clientele, you held every piece to the same standard of perfection, knowing well that each creation bore your signature, no matter the buyer.
Alex grinned at that. "I know. That’s why your stuff is the best. But hey, why’d you let me call you Nana again? It’s nicer than just ‘master’ or something too formal."
You chuckled softly, a slight blush on your cheeks. "Because you said it fits well, and I guess it does. It’s kind of endearing, Alex."
He blushed, pleased with the affirmation, then leaned closer to peek at your sketchbook. "Show me what you’ve got so far. I bet it’s epic."
You tilted the sketchbook towards him, revealing detailed designs of the sword intended for the spymaster. "This blade needs to embody stealth and strength, reflecting who it's for. It’s not just a weapon; it’s a piece of art."
As you spoke, Stellan lifted his head, ears twitching as if acknowledging the conversation. His dark eyes flickered open, observing you both with a gentle, protective gaze. With a soft huff, he repositioned himself, laying his head back down on his massive paws, content to simply be in your presence.
Alex nodded seriously, taking in every line and curve you had drawn. "It’s amazing, Y/N. They’re gonna love it."
As the evening wore on, Alex's questions and observations gradually slowed as sleep began to claim him. His head eventually found a resting place on your shoulder, his breathing evening out as he drifted off. You smiled down at him, setting the sketchbook aside. His trust and the simple title of 'Nana' he'd given you felt more precious than any formal recognition.
Stellan, sensing the room's quieting energy, stood up and stretched, his movements graceful despite his size. He padded softly around the bed, finally settling down closer to you and Alex, his body a warm barrier against the night’s chill. His presence was a comforting constant, a silent guardian watching over your small family.
With the room now quiet, save for the soft sounds of Alex's sleep and Stellan's rhythmic breathing, the distant hum of the night city served as a lullaby. You felt a peaceful end to the productive day. The weight of creating something worthy of the Night Court was significant, but it was a challenge you were ready to meet with your usual dedication to excellence. Slipping under the covers, you settled in next to Alex, the moonlight casting a gentle glow over you all. With Stellan's protective aura enveloping you, you allowed yourself to drift off, thoughts of tomorrow’s forging dancing in your dreams.
On the other side of the city at the townhouse, the evening was filled with laughter and good spirits. Cassian was in fine form, regaling the table with a joke about an Illyrian warrior who mistook a glamour-spell for his opponent in a sparring match. The table erupted in laughter, appreciating the absurdity of the tough warrior swatting at thin air.
As chuckles subsided and glasses were refilled, Azriel steered the conversation toward local news with his typically quiet but clear tone. "Have you heard, Rhys?" he began, capturing the table's attention. "There’s a new blacksmith in Velaris."
"Actually?" Cassian's interest was piqued, his expression curious.
"Yes, I’ve checked on her—she's already established quite the reputation," Azriel continued.
"Her, like she is a female?" Cassian asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.
"Yes, 'her' like that, Cassian…" Azriel replied with a slight smirk, enjoying the moment of revelation.
Rhysand joined in with a knowing smile. "She's not just any blacksmith. She’s made quite a name for herself, especially with blades. She’s worked with several high lords across Prythian."
Cassian choked slightly on his drink, surprised. "A female blacksmith, swinging hammers with the high lords? She must be quite skilled."
"She is," Rhysand confirmed, his voice reflecting a mix of respect and intrigue. "Her blades are reputed to be some of the finest—well-crafted and balanced. The detail and precision are said to be exceptional."
The brothers shared intrigued glances, the atmosphere buzzing with new interest. The conversation seamlessly wove around various artisans they knew, but the topic of the new blacksmith lingered, sparking a particular fascination.
"So, what's her specialty? Just weapons, or does she do armor too?" Cassian probed, clearly intrigued.
"Primarily weapons. She has a particular talent for swords and daggers," Rhysand explained. 
As the evening wore on, Rhysand found a moment to lean towards Azriel. “By the way Az, could you drop a box off at the blacksmith's tomorrow? "
Azriel nodded, sensing the significance of the task, though his eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity. "Anything else I should know?"
"Just the box," Rhysand responded, his tone firm yet enigmatic, giving nothing further away.
Both Azriel and Cassian looked at each other, their curiosity clearly piqued, but recognizing that Rhysand was keeping his cards close to his chest. They returned to lighter topics, but the mention of the new blacksmith had woven itself into their conversation, adding a thread of intrigue to the vibrant tapestry of Velaris’s ongoing stories.
Back in your smithy, the clanging of metal and the heat of the forge filled the air, mingling with the lively chatter of customers at the front of the shop. Alexander, navigated skillfully among the patrons, his arms laden with weapons. His voice, bright and enthusiastic, carried over the din as he extolled the virtues of your craftsmanship.
"Feel the balance of this blade!" Alexander exclaimed to a curious couple, holding up a finely crafted sword for inspection. "Forged right here, each swing is as smooth as the Sidra's flow!"
With the Winter Solstice drawing near, the shop was bustling with activity as each order demanded meticulous attention and finesse. You had just put the finishing touches on a stylized hammer, commissioned by one of the lords of the Illyrian camps, when the bell above the door chimed.
From the corner of your eye, you saw a figure cloaked in shadows enter. It was Azriel, Rhysand’s spymaster, moving with a quiet grace that seemed almost unnatural. His presence caused a subtle shift in the atmosphere as he approached Alexander first, speaking in hushed tones before your apprentice pointed him towards the back.
Wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, you pushed through the curtain that separated your work area from the shop. Dressed in a revealing black top and overalls that were unclipped at the top, leaving much of your torso exposed due to the heat of the forge, you approached the visitor. Big gloves covered your hands, protecting them from the forge’s heat. As you came into view, you caught Azriel's gaze flick momentarily—almost imperceptibly—downwards before meeting your eyes again. Though brief, it didn’t escape your notice.
“Who is it?” you asked, your voice echoing slightly in the busy shop.
“I need to deliver something to you,” Azriel stated, his voice even and calm, holding out a small, intricately carved box.
Before taking the box, you carefully removed your heavy gloves, revealing hands marked by the rigors of your trade. You took it, feeling the weight and the latent power it seemed to hold. Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him. “From the High Lord ?”
“Yes. He said you’d know what to do with it,” Azriel replied, his gaze now fixed firmly on your face, any earlier distraction gone.
You nodded, understanding that the contents of the box were likely tied to the commission Rhysand had mentioned previously. “Thank you, Sir. I’ll handle it from here.”
As Azriel turned to leave, Alexander’s voice once again filled the shop, drawing new customers' attention: "Every piece has its own story, crafted with the finest skills learned from the great forges of Prythian! See for yourselves!"
You couldn’t help but smile at Alexander’s enthusiasm as he continued to engage the customers with his lively banter. Azriel, the enigmatic shadow singer, had left as quietly as he had arrived. There was something undeniably captivating about him—his mysterious aura only added to his allure.
Standing for a moment, you held the box, feeling its potential. But the demands of the day pulled you back, and you returned to the forge, your mind already racing with ideas for the contents of the box and the work that lay ahead. 
Just as you were about to reignite the forge, Alex poked his head through the curtain, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.
“He was hot, right?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with teasing curiosity.
You paused, a smirk forming as you glanced back at the retreating figure of Azriel. “Aren’t you supposed to be ten?” you retorted playfully, raising an eyebrow at Alex.
Alex chuckled, undeterred. “Maybe, but I can tell when someone’s cool. He’s like a shadow knight from those legends you told me!”
Laughing, you shook your head and turned back to your workbench, the plans for Rhysand’s commission spread out before you. “Get back to the front, Alex. And keep your comments about the customers to yourself, even if they are high lords or shadow singers.”
Alex laughed and ducked back through the curtain, his voice soon mingling with the customers once again. As you focused on the intricate designs of the new commission, you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement for the challenge ahead, your heart still light from the brief yet intriguing encounter.
491 notes · View notes
luvmahae · 20 days ago
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fiction ‣ na jaemin
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summary: like this again, i can’t forget you. jaemin spends his quiet days crafting lattes and sketching the girl who only exists in his dreams until you walk into the café, looking exactly like the one he's been drawing all along. are you the answer to his daydreams or something he'll never truly grasp?
pairing: barista!jaemin x fem!reader
genre: non-idol au, fluff, slice of life, very much ROMANCE... i just wanted to write about barista jaemin </3
word count: 2.5k! ˚。⋆。˚☽
notes: a short little fic as a gift for reaching 300+ followers! :D was very much inspired by the song fiction by beast/b2st/highlight?? (where my 2nd gen fans at....) (me) a little different from the content i put out, but i absolutely loved this plot sm... just had to. open to feedback and enjoy! ♡
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Welcome to Café 꿈, may I take your order?
Jaemin lives a simple life. As a college student, he spends most of his free time helping out at his parents’ café in his hometown. Not out of obligation, but because he loves it. There’s something about coffee that intrigues him. The rich aroma of freshly ground beans, how unique each blend was in those tightly sealed bags, and how a small bean packs a ton of flavor within them. 
Life for him felt like a quiet, steady rhythm. Mornings consisted of pulling shots of espresso and creating latte art with every cup he touched, afternoons sketching whenever he had down time, and evenings caught between half-finished daydreams while doing closing tasks. 
His world revolves around two things: coffee and drawing. There wasn’t a day when he didn’t have his sketchpad sprawled out on the table and a hot cup of coffee nearby. It was just the perfect combination just for him. 
The late afternoon carried a sense of stillness, the kind that felt comforting and lonely. Outside the café, life moved at its usual pace. The noise from cars passing by, pedestrians walking around with places to be, but inside this cozy little space, time went by slower. It was a familiar kind of peace, one he’s grown used to, though it often left him alone with his thoughts and the faint hum of the espresso machine. 
The café that was buzzing with customers was now empty. The stillness of the space was broken only by the occasional scratch of his pencil on paper. The shelves that once held bags of various coffee blends now stood still, untouched. 
He sets his sketchpad down on the counter, flipping to the page where he last left off. A drawing of a girl is displayed in front of his very eyes, and it wasn't just any girl. It was you. The girl he’s never met, yet whose face has been so vividly etched into his mind from the countless dreams he had. You only existed through the steady glide of his pencil, every detail slowly coming to life in every stroke. 
Today, he’s focused on your smile. It’s soft and gentle, the kind that would make his heart race. His pencil hovers over the page as he debates whether to add the faintest dimple to your cheek. Would she have a dimple? It would be cute. Hmm. Decisions. 
The bell above the café door jingles, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glances up out of habit, ready to offer the usual polite greeting, but his voice falters.
You’re standing there.
For a moment, he thought he might be imagining it. The endless hours spent sketching had finally blurred the line between reality and fantasy. But you were real. Your long hair fell past your shoulders, and your eyes held a quiet warmth as they scanned the menu board. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and stepped forward, making eye contact with the man standing in front of you.
Jaemin forgot how to breathe.
“Hi.” Your voice is soft, your smile bright as you approach the counter. “Are you still open?”
He blinks, his brain scrambling to catch up. “Y-yeah. Yes, we’re open.”
You tilt your head slightly, an amused glint in your eyes. “Every time I pass by this place, it’s always busy. I never saw it this empty in a while,” you say with a small laugh.
Heat rushes to Jaemin’s face as he fumbles for the words. “It’s usually still a little busy around this time too… Maybe people had other plans? Or maybe because it’s the holiday season? Maybe they’re out of town— I mean… what can I get you today?”
You smiled again, and his heart stuttered in his chest. “Just a hot vanilla latte for me. Oh, and a blueberry scone warmed up, if you have any left. For here.”
“Coming right up.” He turns to the espresso machine, his hands moving on autopilot while his mind races. It’s you. The girl he’s been drawing for months. You even ordered the exact kind of drink he always imagined you’d like. It’s uncanny. 
When he places the ceramic cup and scone on the counter, you look at him with a smile that feels like sunshine. “Thanks… Jaemin,” you say, reading his name tag. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You take your items and settle at a table near the window, opening your laptop and disappearing into your work.
He stands frozen for a moment, the stillness of the café filling the space around him. His gaze lingers on you as you settle into your seat, the quiet click of your laptop's keyboard breaking the stillness. He blinks, almost expecting you to vanish the moment he looks away like a dream fading upon waking. But you don’t. You’re still there, your figure outlined by the soft glow of the setting sun peeking through the windows.
You're real.
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After that first encounter, those days turned into weeks, and you became a regular. Every late afternoon, it was the same routine. You walk through the door, he takes your order, and you sit at your usual spot by the window. Jaemin’s heart leaps every time he hears the bell ring above the front, his head whipping towards the door hoping it’s you. He lives for your small exchanges at the counter. The way your lips curl when you say his name, the way you laugh at his awkward attempts at jokes, the way you stare up at the menu looking at all the options even though you go with the same items every time: A vanilla latte and a blueberry scone. 
You’re kind, effortlessly so. You often ask about his day, and he stumbles through his replies, mostly because he is nervous, the other half being afraid of saying too much. Times when you compliment the latte art he carefully crafted on your drink and the rush of pride he feels that stays with him long after you’ve left.
On his breaks, he sits with his sketchpad, pretending to work on something new while stealing glances at you. You often catch him, your eyes crinkling with a knowing smile, but you never say anything about it. Instead, you wave or offer a small wink that leaves him flustered for the rest of his shift.
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Today, the café is quieter than usual this evening, only a few people, including yourself, occupying the space inside. You were tucked into your usual spot by the window, per usual, fingers clicking away at the keyboard of your laptop. You pick up the dark blue cup from its matching saucer, taking a quick sip of your vanilla latte before setting it back down. 
The faint sound of the music playing through the speakers became a soothing backdrop, but Jaemin can barely hear it over the sound of his heart beating out of his chest.
He watches you from behind the counter, his gaze darting away whenever you glance up. His fingers nervously toy with the edge of a napkin, his thoughts racing. Tonight. He’s decided it has to be tonight.
Jaemin, you got this.
Taking a deep breath, he wipes his palms on his apron and picks up a fresh hot vanilla latte he made for you, the foam meticulously swirled into a delicate heart. He steps out from behind the counter, each step feeling heavier than the last. He walks on over towards where you were sitting, hands firmly gripping the drink in hand. 
“Hey Y/N,” he says, his voice a little shakier than he intended.
You look up from your screen, staring at him and down at the cup he was holding. “Oh, another latte? I didn’t order—”
“It’s on the house!” he says quickly, setting the cup down in front of you. Your fingers brush his as you reach for it, and he feels a jolt of electricity shoot through him.
Your lips curl into a smile, your head tilting slightly. “Thanks, Jaemin. That’s really sweet.”
He hesitates, his hand lingering near the cup for a moment longer than necessary. “Hey, um…Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Would you… um… like to grab dinner with me sometime?”
The words hang in the air between you, his question as fragile as the foam heart he crafted moments ago. His palms are clammy, his heart a wild drumbeat in his chest. For a second, he thinks he might faint.
You blink, surprise flickering across your face, followed by something softer—something warmer. Your cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink as a smile spreads across your lips. “I’d love to.”
Relief floods through him, so intense it nearly knocks him off balance. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his lips tugging into a grin he can’t suppress. “Great. That’s…great. I mean, um, I’ll text you? Or—” He falters, realizing he doesn’t even have your number.
You laugh, the sound light and melodic. “Here.” You grab a napkin and jot down your number, sliding it across the table to him.
Jaemin takes it like it’s the most precious thing in the world, his fingers gripping onto the napkin tightly. “Thank you. I’ll…text you soon.”
You nod, your smile never fading. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
As he walks back to the counter, his heart feels lighter than it has in months. The world around him seems brighter, more alive, and for the first time in a long time, he feels like he’s finally stepped into one of his dreams.
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One date turned into many. Each one felt like a chapter from a story Jaemin never thought he was allowed to live. All it took for him was that confidence boost and a bit of his sanity to make this happen. From quiet dinners at cozy restaurants in the area to long walks by the beach at sunset. Every moment with you left him wanting more. He didn’t want this story to end at all.
The sky filled with different shades of orange and pink as the sun set, and the water reflected the colors like a painting. Both of you walked side by side, the sound of waves crashing onto the shore in a gentle rhythm, accompanied by your conversation. Between the shared words were bursts of laughter and bright smiles. It almost felt like the only people that existed in this world were just you two. 
When your hand brushed his just ever so slightly, he hesitated for only a moment before intertwining his fingers with yours. The way your fingers fit together made his chest tighten. It was like you were meant to be there all along. He gave your hand a little squeeze before leading the way down the sandy path.
There were quieter moments, ones that he held just as close. After the café closed one night, you stayed behind, claiming you didn’t want to leave just yet. He made you a latte, and the two of you sat next to each other in one of the booths, your knees brushing as you sipped your drinks. The smell of coffee filled the air, mingling with the sound of your laughter as he told you stories about his childhood. You listened intently, your eyes never leaving his, and for the first time, he felt truly seen.
He loved how you noticed the little things about him. The way you pointed out how his sketches had grown more detailed lately, or how you teased him for always making latte art hearts when it was just the two of you. He loved the way you looked at him, like he was more than just a barista or a boy with a sketchpad full of dreams. Like he was enough.
Your first kiss came on an evening that felt almost surreal. It was raining lightly, the kind of rain that made the world feel hushed and intimate. You stood under the awning outside the café, waiting for the downpour to let up. He stood beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets to keep them from shaking.
You turned to him, your smile soft and inviting. “Thanks for tonight.” you said, your voice barely louder than the patter of rain.
Jaemin swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. “Of course. I…I always like spending time with you.”
You tilt your head up towards him, your gaze locking with his. “Me too.”
There was a pause, charged and electric, and he felt his breath hitch. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned in, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Your eyes fluttered shut, and when your lips met his, it was like the world stopped spinning.
Your lips were warm and soft, tasting faintly of vanilla from the lattes you’d shared. The kiss was gentle, almost shy, but it carried a depth of feeling that left both of you breathless. When you pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, and your eyes held a warmth that made his heart feel impossibly full.
“Perfect.” he whispered, more to himself than to you.
You smiled, brushing a raindrop from his cheek. “Yeah. It was.”
In those moments, he felt like the world had aligned in his favor. The nights you spent together, the quiet conversations, the kisses that followed. They all made him feel something he’d never dared to dream of before.
For the first time in his life, Jaemin felt like he was enough.
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It’s a slow afternoon when the truth hits him. He sits at his usual spot, his sketchpad open to a fresh page. The bell above the door jingles, and he looks up, expecting to see you. But the café is empty, save for a lone customer near the back.
Frowning, he glances down at the page. His hand moves on its own, sketching your face with practiced ease. Your smile, your eyes, the way your hair frames your cheeks—every detail is etched into his memory.
But as the drawing comes to life, a hollow ache settles in his chest. He stares at the drawing, and the realization washes over him like a cold wave.
You aren’t real.
The dates, the laughter, the kisses. All of it has been in his head. A daydream he created to fill the gaps between the grind of his reality. He’d wanted it so badly, wanted you so badly, that he’d convinced himself you were real.
Jaemin closes the sketchpad slowly, his fingers trembling. The bell jingles again, and he looks up, half-hoping, half-dreading. But it’s not you. It never will be.
He inhales deeply, the rich aroma of coffee anchoring him as he rises and makes his way back to the counter. The café remains quiet, bathed in the same golden sunlight, and he finds himself still clinging to the remnants of his dream—just a little.
I will hold onto you, I won’t let you go.
240 notes · View notes
kiame-sama · 26 days ago
Note
How would the HAE boys react to finding out the reader is pregnant with their child(ren)? (I’m unsure if you’ve answered a similar request but either way, I love your writing!!!)
This is only one half of the yanderes, Including the Hoard (Sebek, Silver, Lilia, Malleus), Poisonous Beauty (Vil and Rook), Octo-Trio (Azul, Jade, Floyd), and Idia. I will do part two with the other NCR characters
Warnings: as the request states, Yandere, yandere behavior, yandere relationship, pregnancy warning, afab reader (though I will keep pronouns they/them), large mention of poly relationships with the fellas (many mention poly relationships and some require a poly relationship to be in any relationship [ie. The Hoard and Malleus]), by selecting 'view more' you consent to view content and are of age to view content, some have oviposition based on the species, mainly ficlets, any appearances made by Grim or Ortho are solely platonic, some graceful responses, some not so graceful responses, all positive responses, mostly fluff minus some teasing and confusion, not all take place at the same time, various 'relationship routes', mostly poly relationships, various poly group dynamics*
*Special note; In The Hoard, Lilia and Silver are NOT romantically interested, they are father and son and hold firmly to that.
*Special note; In the Octo-Trio, Jade and Floyd are NOT romantically interested, they are twins and have always shared things.
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The Hoard:
Malleus Draconia (300+)
"You... what?"
Malleus stood in complete disbelief and surprise, waiting for it to be some kind of joke made in poor taste, but the serious expression of his beloved Human never once left their face. It took only a few moments longer for him to realize his beloved Human (Y/n) was- in fact- not joking. A momentary pause gave way to genuine jubilation and joy as the air seemed to noticeably warm.
The Dragon was quick to fall to his knees and press both clawed hands eagerly to his beloved mate's stomach, as if he were trying to see the egg- hopefully eggs, plural- forming in their soft womb. Though he couldn't see them yet, he was more than elated to know that inside of his mate was the formation of his young. He would make sure that his hatchlings had what he never got the privilege of having- both parents. He never got to meet his father or mother, but he would be damned if the same ever had the chance to befall his own children.
"Are you... happy?"
"Of course I am! I am thrilled we will bring the next generation of Draconias into our humble home. Lilia is an expert in raising Dragon hatchlings- he raised me after all- so I am certain the others in the Hoard will be so thrilled to hear you are with child. Our child."
Malleus continued to hum and purr, nuzzling his nose ever so gently against the soft stomach of his beloved. How many times he has wished and hoped for such an event to come to pass. He knew there were many things to prepare for; forming the proper foundation of a Hoard for his new young, preparing the 'Cradle' to imbue the egg with his magic, just getting the egg here in the first place, deciding names, announcing it to Briar Valley, all of it. He had to make sure it was all perfect for his perfect family.
"Come, let us share our wonderful news with the rest of the Hoard, I'm sure young Grim is going to be thrilled to be an older brother."
~~~~
Lilia Vanrouge (800+)
"Repeat that for me?"
"I'm... Pregnant?"
"One more time."
"Lilia."
Lilia chuckled at the gentle scolding tone that his wonderful Human grumbled out in, their frustrated frown making him acquiesce. He had asked at least five times for it to be repeated because he just loved the sound of those words coming from someone he adored ever so much. Naturally, he was elated and looked forward to any young running around the gloomy castle of Briar Valley.
"Do you know which of us is the father yet? I'm certain Malleus will be thrilled to hear the royal clutch of eggs will have siblings."
"Yeah, the palace doctor told me based on the wings growing, they have to be yours!"
This actually made the old Bat Fae visibly pause, turning to look with wide and almost hesitantly excited eyes. Surely the sweet Human was joking right?
"They...?"
"They're... yours? Are you okay Lilia? You're not... you're not angry, are you?"
Lilia realized how his surprise must have been perceived as he was quick to immediately try and soothe the somewhat stressed and worried Human he adored. Of course he was happy, he just wasn't honestly expecting to get young of his own so soon. He figured Silver or Sebek would be next.
"No! I could never be angry, not about this! This is wonderful news! It may be a bit confusing for Silver, but he is smart and I know he will adore them as their older brother. How could he not? I'm sure Malleus himself will be more than taken with our little pup!"
Lilia was clearly happy and seemed to be bouncing as he stood behind he beloved Human, wrapping his wings around their body, all while holding their soft stomach in his hands. He had long decided to adore any child borne into the Hoard, but he knew he would be especially gentle with this one. How could he not? They were his, after all.
"Let's go tell Malleus the Hoard will have more than the Royal Clutch to take care of."
~~~~
Sebek Zigvolt (19)
"Your Majesty!"
Sebek cried as he rushed forward, keen to help despite the fact the soft Human in his arms had merely stumbled on the edge of the large rugs lain across the floor. As a retainer for both Malleus and the Human, Sebek was always keenly alert for any sign of discomfort or potential threats. Naturally, even things that weren't genuine threats were treated as such, even as Sebek growled angrily at the rug.
"Vile thing! Tripping up my Majesty (Y/n), you will burn for this!"
"Sebek."
"Yes, your Majesty?"
"I've told you that you can call me by my name, you're one of my mates, you don't have to call me 'Majesty' all the time."
"But I must! As one of your loyal guards, it is my sworn oath-"
The loud half-Fae was hushed gently by a finger over his lips, immediately swallowing down his words and paying apt attention. Of course the half-Fae was loyal, he came from a long line of guards and his non-Fae half happened to be a guard-dog species in the literal sense. He was genetically wired to be a good guard and a loyal companion.
"I just returned from a visit to the palace physician, he has confirmed I am pregnant again."
"This is wonderful news! We should-"
"Not done yet."
"My apologies."
"Sebek, when they checked, they found several heartbeats and confirmed that the embryos growing are canine in appearance with long tails. Meaning you are the father of this current litter."
It took a moment for Sebek to fully understand what was being said to him, his eyes widening and his ears sitting up at attention. His tail began a slow wag that quickly evolved into a whipping force, as he slammed his tail back and forth with barely contained excitement despite the stress inside of him.
"I'm- I'm going to be a father?"
"Yes."
"Truly?"
"Yes, you adorable crocodile-dog."
"I... I NEED TO TELL EVERYONE!!"
~~~~
Silver (24)
"Are you too cold, (Y/n)?"
"Silver, I'm fine. I promise if there was anything bothering me, I would tell you."
"I simply don't wish for you to be uncomfortable..."
"I know, and I appreciate that."
The Reindeer happily trotted through the almost jagged gardens of the Briar Valley Palace, his adored Human resting on a specially made saddle strapped to his secondary back. As the official steed, it was Silver's job to ensure that he checked in regularly with the soft Human on his back, especially after the recent announcement that they had become pregnant once more. He would be damned before anything bad happened to the Human he adored whole-heartedly.
"Silver, since we have some peace in the gardens, I wanted to talk with you about something."
"Of course. Whatever you need, I am here to listen and aid."
"At my most recent check-up to see how the pregnancy is coming along, and they made an interesting discovery. I was a bit dubious at first, but after more examination, the Palace physician discovered this one has hooves."
"... Hooves?"
"Yes."
Silver didn't really seem to understand what he was being told and vaguely thought it odd that his beloved Human emphasized the presence of hooves in regard to their newly forming young. It took several long beats of silence before the Human tried again to gently lead Silver to the right conclusion.
"Out of Malleus, Lilia, Sebek, and you, it would only make sense that the hooves were inherited from the one that is the likely father."
"That would make sense."
He wasn't getting it. A more direct approach was clearly needed.
"That means you, Silver."
This got the Reindeer to pause in place, his head cocking from one side to the other before he turned, auroral colored eyes wide in surprise.
"... Me?"
"Yes, you."
"I'm.... I'm gonna be a Papa?"
"Yes."
"Does Father know?"
"Not yet. You're the first I've told."
There was a clear excitement in the typically tired Reindeer's eyes as he hoped slightly, turning and almost dashing to the doors that lead deeper into the palace. Naturally, the increased pace meant the soft Human had to reflexively hold onto the horn of the saddle to not lose their balance.
"Silver??"
"We have to tell Father! And Malleus! And Sebek! They'll all be as thrilled as I am!"
~~~~
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Shinigami Woes
Idia Shroud (88)
"Oh, fuck. Like, irl?"
"The hell's that supposed to mean?"
"No! I didn't mean it like that! I just-! I mean-! I'm a sweaty, gross, gamer nerd. I honestly didn't think you would want to stick around with me or have-"
A sudden excited voice broke through what was meant to be a private conversation between Human and Shinigami, as the previously eavesdropping Ortho burst into the room. He was so excited his leg locked up beneath him, making him stumble into the kind hug of (Y/n). Of course the child Shinigami was listening, he adored both his older brother and the Human as siblings and wanted the two of them to be together since day one.
"That means you're going to have a new baby! I won't be the baby of the family anymore!"
"Ortho," (Y/n) gently scolded the excitable young Shinigami, unable to stop the smile tugging at their lips, "You know better than to eavesdrop when you weren't part of the initial conversation."
"I'm sorry, but I'm just so excited! I'll have a new friend in three years!"
This made a soft sigh escape the Human, as it was quite vexingly true; Shinigami pregnancies- even half Shinigami- took three years of gestation. Of course, no one was excited to be pregnant for that long, but such was the nature of Shinigami young.
"Yes, and you'll be an uncle. so I hope you'll teach your new family member everything you can so they are as kind and smart as you."
Ortho whooped at this, leaping up excitedly and turning on his jets to fly from the room, his voice fading away as he clearly shouted the news to everyone within earshot. This left Idia to face off with his loving and adoring Human mate who was a little less than pleased with his initial reaction.
"Why is he more excited about this than you are?"
"Ghk! I didn't mean-! What I was trying to say is-!"
The Shinigami sighed and then gave a genuine smile, one of happiness twinged with a bit of stress, but a true smile none the less.
"I am thrilled we will have a tiny ankle-biter together. I can show them all the ways technology can be used and Ortho will finally have someone closer in age to play with. But, it is a long pregnancy, and I would wage a guess it won't be easy. But fuck it, I'll grind out some parenting levels and see what Papa Hades thinks is best. We're going to have the most skilled and smart gamer-kid to ever exist with all the best stats!"
~~~~
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Poisonous Beauty
Vil Schoenheit (25)
"Yes, (Y/n), my Dear, what is it?"
The ever popular and busy Harpy actor glanced over his shoulder from the script he was reading, a warm smile pulling at this lovely face as he saw his beloved Human standing in the doorway. His door was always open to his two mates, (Y/n) and Rook no matter what he was doing or how busy he was. Even if he was actively hashing out contracts and deal signings, he would always have time to speak to his lovers.
"Vil, I have some news, not sure if you'll find it exciting or not, but I think Rook will be over the moon."
"Oh? And what is this 'exciting' news?"
"Since I've been having such an upset stomach recently, I decided I should go see a doctor just to make sure everything is alright with me. He said my white blood-cell count is high and the eggs are doing just fine in their now calcifying shells."
"That is wonderful news, I-" Vil paused for a moment, his neatly groomed brows furrowing ever so slightly, "eggs?"
"Yes, actually. Four healthy eggs."
"... and they have calcium heavy shells?"
"Yes. I was worried I wouldn't be able to tell if they were yours or Rook's given you both are egg bearing species, but-"
Vil couldn't wait to pull his sweet and adoring Human into his embrace, burying his face in their shoulder as he spun them around. Naturally, the ever observant hunter was keenly aware of the sounds of mirth and cooing made by his two life-partners and came to investigate what the commotion was all about.
"Roi du Poison, mon Trickster, why the sudden excitement? Has something wonderful happened?"
"Rook! (Y/n) is-! We are going to have-!"
(Y/n) gave a gentle chuckle at how much Vil struggled to get the words out, smiling adoringly at the Harpy who was cooing and fluttering his wings, his tail feathers shaking in excitement. It was clear the Harpy was besides himself with joy as his tail feathers and crest rose up into a full display, very loud cheerful calls escaping the throat of the Harpy.
"Dieu merci! What has happened to put our lovely Roi du Poison in such a radiant mood?"
"My visit to the doctors today revealed something wonderful, Rook. I am indeed healthy- despite my recent bouts of illness in the morning- and the four eggs I am carrying are healthy as well!"
"Merveilleux! My beautiful mates! We will make excellent parents!"
Rook Hunt (19)
~~~~
"Rook?"
"Yes, mon amour?"
"Is now a good time to chat?"
"Of course!"
Rook turned around from the deer he had brought home after his most recent Hunt, his smile wide despite the red that tinted his hands a dark color. He was quick to set his skinning tools to the side and wipe off his hands on a nearby rag. Often, the Drider would be unable to resist putting his hands on one of his beloved mates, so he would have to make sure his hands were clean before that happened.
"What do you need, mon Trickster?"
"Well, you know how Vil and I ran errands today?"
"Oui. Roi du Poison wanted to scope out that new skin-care line that launched and you were going to have a quick health check with the doctors. I trust they were polite to you?"
"Of course they were. You and I both know the fit Vil would throw if they weren't."
"Roi du Poison does have such a way with words."
Rook chuckled in a good-natured and equally good-humored way as he curled his legs slightly, kneeling down to smile at his beloved Human. It was a habit he picked up after seeing how far his dearest had to crane their neck back to look at him, given his height advantage.
"Well, the doctor said all the numbers were well within expected range and that the eggs are thriving."
"... Do my ears deceive me? Eggs? Could it be true?"
"It is true! I wondered if they were your eggs or Vil's, seeing as we are in such harmony most times, but based on size, number, and lack of calcium in the shells, they are more than likely Drider eggs!"
Rook was quick to sweep his beloved human off of their feet, cuddling them and holding them tightly against his chest as he peppered their face in soft kisses. Of course Rook was elated, he would be even if they were Vil's brood and not his own. There was little more the could think of that would make him any happier in that moment than to hold is beautiful mate close. Well, perhaps he would be happier if the beautiful Vil were present as well to share in the information, but now doubt the Harpy had taken a step back to allow Rook his space to celebrate.
"This is the best news you could have possibly given me! Were I skilled enough to entangle the stars in my silk that I could snatch them from the sky as payment for the joy you always bring into my life! Now we will have more joys to cherish! No doubt Roi du Poison is already ensuring everything is being set up appropriately for this next step we take on our journey as mates! Allons-y!"
"Go? Go where?"
"To rejoice with our beautiful mate Vil of course!"
~~~~
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Octo-Trio
Azul Ashengrotto (20)
"Come in."
The successful and business savvy entrepreneur didn't even glance up at the knock on his office door, writing up yet another contract for someone seeking to create a join business venture in the empire that was Azul Ashengrotto's Lounge. He had long moved past the Monstro Lounge of his school-days and had become quite the tycoon in the food industry as The Human themselves had bolstered his culinary reach and now their combined efforts had taken Twisted Wonderland by storm.
"You got a minute, Azul?"
The Octopus looked up quickly at the familiar voice of his lover and business partner (Y/n), watching them approach with keen interest as he set his pen down and moved his papers to the side. It didn't matter how much was promised or of what, his beloved (Y/n) came first and was ranked above every past/current/potential client.
"I always have time for you, Angelfish."
"Still refuse to call me 'Shrimpy' like Jade and Floyd?"
"I don't know why they insist on calling you such a name as 'Shrimpy' as if to imply you are a bottom-feeder!"
"I think it has more to do with the symbiotic relationship of Cleaner Shrimp and Moray Eels instead of bottom-feeders, but I digress. I do hope you have divvied up our shares adequately these past few years."
"Yes..." Azul seemed tense and uncertain now, worried that perhaps his beloved Human planned to divorce him and the twins based on the question, "I have. Mostly equal for you and I, Jade and Floyd get a little bit less, but still fair. ... Are you unhappy?"
"What?"
"Because I can fix it! I promise! Just give me a few days and-"
"Azul!"
He fell silent, swallowing back tears as he tried and failed to keep himself from spiraling. Why else would his beloved ask about shares being split if they did not intend to split from him? He had to fix it, but his own tears were making it impossible to speak.
"I'm asking because we need to split them up further and I am happy to give more of my share so you don't have to redo the book-keeping."
"Why would we need to split them further? There is Me, You, Jade, and Floyd. The only reason we would need to split any of our earnings is if another mate entered the fold or-"
Azul's mind finally caught up to him and he was struck dumb. Surely not? The several doctors he kept on retainer would have let him know if there were any difference in your hormone levels. Right?
"Congratulations, Azul, we're going to really have to split up the shares if all of them make it to term and hatch. Hope you can handle having everything split that many ways."
Azul couldn't speak after the emotional rollercoaster he had been on in such a short period of time. He didn't need to though. His tentacles- which he could usually keep on a short leash- suddenly rushed forward, wrapping around his beloved Human and pulling them to him as he kissed their face and any exposed skin excitedly. They gave a sweet laugh under the affectionate barrage of kissing, holding his face affectionately even as the many tentacles gripped at their soft flesh.
"You..! I thought you-!"
"Scared you, didn't I? I figured that's why Floyd and Jade wanted me to ask you that way, since the clutch is entirely Octopus eggs and they're both mad they didn't get the chance given how 'eager' you were to keep going."
"I should have known..! Here I was terrified you were going to make me into Takoyaki for Floyd."
"Eh, it's still on the table~"
"(Y/N)-!"
~~~~
Floyd and Jade Leech (20 & 20)
"Ne, Jade, when is Shrimpy coming home?"
Floyd whined a long complaint, dragging out each syllable as he complained to his patient twin. Jade was busy looking over recent numbers in Azul's absence while he ran errands with their shared mate (Y/n). It was sure to be a long day and everyone knew Floyd would get bored quickly after the first few stops, but he would be bored alone. Still, even with Jade mostly entertaining Floyd's whining, the Eel Merman was bored.
"They are on their way back now, Azul told me a few minutes ago."
"Well why didn't you say so sooner, Jade?"
"It didn't seem like you were in the mood to listen when you ripped that pillow to shreds."
"Whatever. If Little Shrimpy is on their way back, things are gonna get interesting again. Always is! I'm gonna give them a good squeeze for going out and leaving us behind!"
"You chose to stay-"
"Don't care!"
The door to the room swung open and in came Azul, taking the coat off of the shoulders of their shared mate with great care. He glanced up quickly, glad to see Floyd and Jade were waiting by the door. At least then he wouldn't have to go find them.
"The both of you, we have news to share."
"That can wait for me to get a squeeze of my Shrimpy-"
"No, it cannot, Floyd."
"You're no fun, Azul."
The Octopus man was annoyed with the eel but Jade was eagerly awaiting whatever news it was that they had to share. Clearly it was something important if they simply could not wait to settle and let Floyd go about his usual routine.
"If you squeeze them too hard, you'll harm the eggs, Floyd."
"Egg- oh my, has our sweet (Y/n) taken to a clutch? Congratulations."
(Y/n) chuckled at this while Azul pouted and a certain surprise overtook the Eel.
"You don't mean to say..?"
"Yeah, I'm not sure how many are Floyd's, and how many are your eggs but the doctors said they looked fine and seem to be growing properly."
Jade couldn't even respond as Floyd quickly lifted their precious Human, spinning them around while also being careful to not squeeze too hard. Both eels were elated with the idea of having their own fry and Floyd was eager to see these cute combination young. Jade was curious how it would show the combination of genetics between himself and the Human.
"We're gonna have a bunch of Shrimp Eels!"
Floyd laughed as Jade smiled good-humoredly. He looked forward to sharing his ever increasing culinary expertise with the soft Human that he was fortunate enough to share with his twin and comrade.
"Careful, Floyd, you can see for yourself when they hatch. It certainly seems our lovely family is growing."
279 notes · View notes
mortiskiller · 9 months ago
Text
Pignapped
Content warning: Contains violent language, physical harm, non-consensual feedism and other acts. This is just a story, don't be weird.
A commission for @collegefatty10
He was on the way back to the car after grabbing a pizza. It was routine at this point in his life. Eating all day without regard to his ever-increasing weight had led to some interesting eating habits. A breakfast sandwich in the morning had become three sandwiches with hash browns and two doughnuts. Lunch steadily grew into a multi-hour affair with trips to multiple drive-thru visits, door dash orders, desk drawers filled with snacks, and not to mention a new habit of pre-gaming before dinner. Driving to get his pizza led to stopping for fries, or nuggets, or a combo meal, or all of that, before he picked up his next greasy calorie bomb. This routine made his day predictable, pigs are simple after all. The same places and employees watched him fatten from the low 300s to his heaving 430 pounds. Day after day, pound after pound he kept ordering more. As his waddle slowed, his gut hung lower and lower, his face getting red and sweaty from the 20-foot walk from the car to the pizzeria, he was an easy target.
I had seen him months before on a lunch break. My eyes shot open as saw a hanging lard pile of a man puff his way into McDonald’s. It was a passing horny thought that I would see him again, maybe add it to my mental bank of images and memories to jerk off to later. Yet, he kept coming to the same places again, and again, and again till it was too much to resist. I mapped out his route, timed him as ordered, and ate his feasts. Noted how he favored his right leg as he waddled, his arms struggling to carry the ever-increasing amount of food he ordered. As I watched him, I couldn't help but notice the way his right leg bore the brunt of his weight, the limp a constant reminder of his indulgent lifestyle. I wondered how long he had been living like this, how many times he had ordered a pizza and not once thought about the consequences. I knew he would be easy to take. Easy to keep docile, dumb, and growing.
I waited till the moon was just a sliver in the night sky outside his favorite pizzeria. Checking my watch, as it ticked over to 8:40 pm, his sedan pulled into the parking lot, the front driver’s side sitting low as my soon-to-be pet pig drove. I watched from my hiding spot as he struggled to haul his massive frame out of the driver's seat, grunting and wheezing with the effort. The scent of greasy pizza wafted through the air as he waddled towards the entrance, his heavy footfalls reverberating on the pavement.
Once he was safely inside i made my move, slipping silently into the shadows and following him at a distance. Inside, he placed his usual order - a large meat lover's pizza with extra cheese and a side of garlic knots. His eyes gleamed with anticipation as he paid for his meal, oblivious to the predator lurking in the darkness behind him.
As he turned to leave, I struck swiftly and silently, wrapping a thick cloth bag over his head. He struggled weakly for a moment before I pushed him back to the car. With ease, I kicked his right knee from the back and watched as he tumbled into the truck. His muffled moans of confusion and fear barely registering over the hum of the engine. He was mine now, another victim added to my collection.
I paused for a moment, considering my next move. He was a strange yet fascinating addition to my collection, and I relished the thought of having him under my control. I could see him squirming in the back, his heavy breathing and muffled cries a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.
I parked the car in a secluded spot, away from any prying eyes. The moon now a hazy glow, bathing everything in a sickly light. I approached the car, opened the rear door, and lifted my newest prize out of the vehicle.
He was heavier than he looked, his bulk making it difficult for me to handle him. But I had experience, and I was patient. I carried him to a nearby abandoned warehouse, the cold metal of the hinges echoing as I pushed open the door.
Once inside, I placed him on a table, still wearing the cloth bag over his head.
"Hey, buddy," I cooed to the pig, my voice low and sinister. "You know, you're not going to like what's going to happen to you. I've got some pretty wicked plans for you. I'm going to fatten you up, relentlessly, until there's barely anything left of your dignity or self-esteem. You see, we're going to use you, and we're going to pleasure you in ways you can't even imagine."
The pig let out a soft grunt, the sounds muffled by the cloth bag still securing his head. I chuckle, a dark and twisted sound that reverberates through the cold, empty warehouse. Taking a step closer, my shoes scraped against the rough concrete floor.
"I've been collecting things like you for years," I whispered, running his hands over his captive's plump body. "I've come across so many of your kind, just like you, loving your comfort and your food. And I've had my way with them all. Oh, I've had so much fun, and you're next on my list."
As I approach the pig, who is still covered in the bag, he lets out a soft whimper and shakes his head, trying to free himself. His body wobbles with each attempt as he struggles against his bonds. Belly aching with his last meal the movement causes an unintended blech from beneath the bag. Swiftly, I remove the bag from the pig's head, revealing a face red, sweating, and fearful. The pig's eyes are wide and terrified as he stares up at me, taking in his new surroundings - cold concrete walls bare of any decoration, a king-sized bed next to a small bathroom, and a large full-body mirror.
"Look at you," I say with a hint of disgust mixed with fascination, "just look at what you've become."
"You know what you are now?" I ask quietly, “You are my plaything, a toy, a fat weak blubbery toy!” my digs deep into his belly hang, bringing a painful whine from the pig’s mouth.
"You are mine, completely and entirely," I continue, my voice growing menacing, "and I'm going to do whatever I want with you at my command." The pig tries to struggle again, but his movements are weak and pathetic. "Oh, but first things first," I say, walking over to the bed where I had left a set of handcuffs.
I restrained the pig on the bed, at once reluctant and terrified to yield to such volition.
"You'll get used to it, trust me," I say, my fingers tracing curious paths over his bulging form. "Maybe then you'll even enjoy it."
With the pig cuffed to the headboard and footboard, I began to study him, taking in every last curve and fold of his form. He looked so helpless and vulnerable like a lost child in desperate need of a firm hand to guide him.
Noticing the glaze that had settled over his eyes, I thought, 'Now we're getting somewhere.'
Methodically, I began to examine him as if he were an exotic creature, taking note of each flaw that had been revealed by my rough handling.
He would be my plaything, my plump and innocent pig. And I would use him, treat him, and abuse him in ways that would break him completely. I would fatten him up and weaken him until his body could no longer bear the weight of his own flesh. I would use every inch of this vulnerable creature, making him my own personal toy.
As I stood over him, watching him squirm pathetically on the bed, my mind raced with all the ways in which I could degrade him. My hands moved over his flesh, feeling him shake beneath my touch. I could feel the warmth of his skin, the softness of his fur, the weight of the fat that filled his body. It was all so delicious, so intoxicating, that I found myself growing hard at the thought of what I could do with him.
My fingers brushing feather-light against his skin, teasing him with every passing second. It was then that I decided upon the next part of his degradation. With a smirk playing on my lips, I retrieved a bucket from the floor, its contents sloshing against the sides with every move I made. It was filled to the brim with a half-gallon of lard-filled slop, designed to both fuel his growing hunger and make him feel even more vulnerable in his restraints.
As I drew closer, the pig let out a small whine, his eyes widening in fear and anticipation. He knew what was coming. I brought the bucket towards his mouth, and with a practiced hand, I tilted it so that the contents would flow easily. A funnel was inserted into his mouth, and with a cruel smirk, I watched as the slop began to pour down his throat, filling him to the brim.
End of Part 1.
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brummiereader · 8 months ago
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MASTERLIST TRAILER
Uptown Girl (Part One)
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Summary: When your high society life comes crumbling down around you. You are left to deal with the inherited mess your father's love of the casino tables had landed him in, and the gangster he had settled his debts with. Mr Thomas Shelby. But when heads butt during your first encounter with the notorious gang leader over the deeds to Arrow House. You both stubbornly refuse to back down, begrudgingly accepting each other as an unwelcome housemate. With your future on the line, and the arranged union you want to be free from rapidly approaching. You come to the quick realisation that if you can't force the blue-eyed squatter from your house, then you would drive him out. One way or another.
Warnings: Language, angst, mentions of death by suicide
Word Count: 4535
Authors Note: £200-£300 sterling pound in 1924, was worth between £10000-£15000 in todays value.
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"So it's agreed then, Miss?" the smartly dressed man with hungry eyes questioned you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he greedily beamed down at the delicate diamond necklace sitting on the plush red velvet cushion below it. "£200 for the Elysée necklace, and it's matching earrings?"
"£250 for the necklace alone, Mr Burton" you quickly corrected his value of the precious jewel sat in front of you. The last of your mother's cherished collection gifted to her on her wedding day.
" £300 for the lot" his eyes narrowed in on the lustrous stones adorned with a cluster of diamonds weighing down your ears. He would have the full collection, or nothing at all.
" Scandalous! " your Granny's voice quivered as she sat in the corner of your father's office. Exceedingly displeased with the intentionally low estimation of your family's jewels as her satin gloved fingers clutched tightly around her walking stick.
" It is but business, Mam" the Jeweler replied with an avid, gold-toothed smile. His arms flamboyantly hovering in the air as he bowed to the former Duchess of Arrow House with anything but the respect she was once shown.
" Hm!" your dear Grans voice hiccuped as she turned her head in displeasure to the gentleman who was a far cry from the considerate businessman he claimed to be. But rather, that of a man who had fallen upon a family's suffering through yet another death brought on by the woes of a troubled mind.
" £300 it is then" you announced with your head held high, removing the last remaining item of value you possessed from the soft lobes of your ears to join its sister necklace.
With reluctant hands, you gracefully placed each earring onto the cushioned fabric. The tips of your fingers brushing over the passing memories of you sat as a small child on the edge of your mother's bed. Mesmerised by her beauty as you watched her adorn her gown with each jewel that would accompany her on a soiree of dancing and champagne. They will be yours one day, my darling girl, her voice whispered to you like a passing summer breeze as you closed your eyes. The grief you still felt for her loss now weighed down with that of your father's recent death.
" Wonderful!" the Jeweler's voice snatched you away from your cherished memories. Snatching the precious stone from under your fingers and replacing them with a stack of King George banknotes." Pity old George couldn't help you out, hm?"
" Pity? Pity?!" your Granny's voice rose to a squeaky pitched tone of offense as her stern expression honed in on the jeweler that was about to get a good old-fashioned telling off. " Well I never. If you were any the wiser, Mr Burton. I would take your insolent, blithering..."
"Yes, thank you, Granny. Good day to you, Mr Burton" you interrupted your Grans inevitable barrage of flustered insults as you ushered the jeweler from the study. Saving him from not only her sharp words but your family's faltering reputation from another scandal you wished to avoid.
" Oh, how the mighty have fallen" the Jeweler's teasing words echoed back to your Gran still perched on the small cushioned chair, outraged by the sheer cheek of the man, when your brother loudly made his unwelcome appearance through the foyer.
" Mighty, and of good stock!" your brother cheered back, having heard only a portion of what was more of an insult than any compliment his far away thoughts had understood. " Oh, I say..." your brother's eyes widened at the large stash of banknotes stacked in a pile on the polished desk as he entered the room.
" Johnathan. What are you doing here?" you impatiently asked, snatching them away and swiftly making your way across the room to Frances waiting with your brother's shotgun he had lumbered her with by the door after a day of hunting stags on the property. " For the wages, and upkeep" you discretely whispered, handing the money to your most trusted employee with only one banknote remaining for your father's impending funeral.
" Oh sissy, how dire" your brother said upon seeing the lonely note being folded in your hand and safely into the pocket of your dress as he sat down, puffing on what was left of his cigar while eyeing up anything he could sell, having already squandered his estate on the inherited trait of your father that had gotten you into this mess. Gambling. A mess which was now, your burden.
With only a penny left to his name, your father played his last and final hand in the backstreets of London's grottyest alleyway. Foolishly putting all his remaining hopes on the copper coin to win back his wasted fortune. But when the dice turned against his favour, sealing his losing fate. Your father slumped to the muddy ground, removing his gun and shooting himself point-blank in the side of the head. Left to die alone in the dark, penniless. Your father had succumbed to the very thing he had wasted his life on.
" Again Johnathan, what are you doing here? Or rather, what do you want?" you sighed with crossed arms, kicking his muddy boots from the ottoman in front of him.
" Why is everyone so glum, and in black?" your brother huffed, looking around the solemn room that was once filled with gold ornaments and neatly categorised books you would spend your time reading quietly on the feathered cushioned settee as your father mulled over the odds for his next bet at the races.
" Our father still lies cold on the morgue table, Johnathan" you scolded your older brother. Ten years older, to be precise.
Wise beyond your years, an old soul. That's what those dearest to you would say. In reality, you were nothing of the sort. But rather forced into behaving for both you and your idiotic brother, who was intent on staining the family's name with his seedy lifestyle.
" We're in mourning Johnny, my dear" your Granny looked upon your brother with an unwavering sigh of both love and tolerance that only a grandmother would show for her half-witted grandson to whom she was forever bound too. " And preparation. For a dark day has come to Arrow House" she dramatically finished as she turned her head away in disbelief about the morning's unfolding events.
" Preparation for what, exactly ?" your brother asked obliviously, or rather ignorantly to everything that had unfolded in the weeks prior to your father's death.
"Preparation for him. Mr Thomas Shelby." Your grandmother's voice rose as she turned to her eldest grandchild. " The gangster!" her voice pitched to an even higher note as she clutched her chest in horror at the situation her son, your father, had landed you in with the Birmingham gang leader your Granny could only envision to be like that of the viscous darkly creatures she had read in her nightly novels.
" A gangster, you say? How thrilling. This place could do with a little fun" your brother replied, flicking a dusty lamps weathered shade next to him. His need to live life further on the edge than what he was already precariously sat on, horrifying your Grandmother for a second time. "Does this gangster happen to drive a Bentley?"
" Oh god, he's early. Why is he so early?" You panicked at the approaching sound of a car on the gritted drive as your flustered fingers fidgeted with your pearl necklace.
" A gangster with good time keeping, sister" your brother smirked as he watched you smooth down the front of your dress, your lips silently mumbling your practiced speech.
" Johnathan, would you please shut up and stop calling him that. Would you like to get us all shot, and join Daddy in the morgue?" you huffed as the irritated former child in you made an appearance to your only sibling, who was enjoying, as he always did, purposely annoying you to the point of a foot-stomping childish outburst.
" And he brings two accompanying gangsters with him. What a burly looking lot" your brother's eyes narrowed in on the three men exiting the car behind the tempered glass.
" Johnathan! Shu..."
"Children please. I'm far too close to my own deathbed to withstand your bickering. Must I endure it until that very day?" your Grandmother sighed as she slowly approached you, her hand closing reassuringly around your jittery fingers. " Head up dear, don't let him see you falter" your Granny encouraged you, patting your hand and any lingering doubts away. "Stand firm. You'll leave this manor in grace and class" she stated, head held high as her cane came down to the floor with a thud in a show of both strength and dignity as she took your brothers' steadying arm, and he led her into the foyer.
You'll leave this manor in grace and class, your Grandmother's guiding words sat with the uncomfortable lump of deception now forming in your throat as you followed behind her. For the days events were about to take a very different turn than planned. A plan in motion that neither your Grandmother nor this wretched gangster Mr Shelby could have ever envisioned. One that was imperative for you to escape the dreaded wedding arranged since your birth to the brute of a man you were promised to in one month's time. Cal Astor.
"Here she is, boys" Tommy said, stepping out of the car, lighting a cigarette as he looked at his newly acquired stately home. " Let's hear it then. What do you think?"
" Got nothing on Small Heath" Arthur sniffed as he squinted to the very top of the sturdy bricked mansion, cautiously weighing up its threatening statue. "Nah, give me Watery Lane"
"The mud and shit too?"John asked, twisting his toothpick between his teeth as his face scrunched up at the elaborate fountain of a large busted woman spouting water from her nipples. Your brother's only, and soon to be discarded, ghastly contribution to Arrow House. "Bloody toffs"
"Especially the shit" Arthur replied, checking the imposing house's stability with a firm slap to the bricked wall. "Go on then Tom, tell us aye. What poor bastard did you fool into giving this up?" he said before tipping his hat to one of the many garden staff now scurrying off to safety in fear of his kneecaps being blown off. The result of another mighty tale from your Grandmother's overactive imagination, that had undoubtedly stirred the staff of Arrow House into a dizzy.
"A rich old bastard who had reached the bottom of his pockets" Tommy replied, blowing a puff of smoke from the corner of his mouth.
"Well, where is the poor fucker then? No grand welcome?" Arthur asked, offended the red carpet and all its thrills hadn't been laid out for their arrival for such a grand home.
"Dead" Tommy flatly stated as he approached the towering wooden door, ignoring any of his brothers assumptions that he was the delivering hand of that untimely death. "Right come on lads. Best behaviour, eh?
"Jesus, bloody, Christ" John huffed, flicking his toothpick into the neatly cut grass, wary of what his brother had gotten them into this time.
Stood in the foyer with your only two remaining family members, and the staff under your employment orderly lined up beside you. You waited. Listening to the footsteps of the man you had yet to meet, slowly approaching.
" Mr Shelby, I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding..." you quietly rehearsed under your breath when a loud, heavy fisted knock rattled the foyer door. Startling both you and your Grandmother.
" Must he be so barbaric? This house does possess a doorbell! your Grandmother fussed as you nodded to Frances to open the door and have you face the inevitable you could no longer delay.
As the door slowly opened, a low, gravely voice greeted your housekeeper. Accompanying it, three smartly dressed men, each one sporting a peak cap. As your eyes darted from the youngest of the men in front of you to the tallest with a large moustache neatly trimmed above his top lip, they finally came to land on the man stood in the middle. His steel blue stare instantly locking with yours. It was him, Thomas Shelby.
A painfully awkward silence suddenly settled in the air when all thought drifted mutually from your minds. Embarrassingly halting either one of you from saying or doing anything. Leaving everyone present in an uncomfortable shared state of confusion of darting stares as they stood silently in the foyer.
Uncomfortable for all but two, that was. For something far more intriguing had unexpectedly sparked in the silence between the daughter of high society and the Small Heath boy from the hardened streets of Birmingham. A spark neither one of you expected to be ignited that day as your shared gaze remained fixed on the other and time suddenly seemed to dissipate, with everything and everyone around you blurring into nothingness.
That was until the echo of your Grannie's cane booming on the marble floor brought you and Tommy back to the present world.
" Mr Shelby..." you began, clearing your throat as you watched him remove his peaked cap, when your intended words escaped your thoughts once again to the man stood before you. A man not hardened faced, loud and savage like your Grandmother would have you believe. But a man with striking features and a magnetic, demanding stance. Quietly stood observing you. Patiently waiting for formal introductions like any gentleman from your world would do.
"Mr Shelby, welcome to Arrow House" you unexpectedly greeted him with a politeness you had been adamant on guarding as you tried to compose yourself after your state of, confusion.
Did you come with the house too?, Tommy thought to himself, as a curious hint of a smile etched on the corner of his lips for the woman that had suddenly captivated him. Oblivious to who you was, and the pounding headache you would soon create for him.
"I'm afraid...I'm afraid there has been a misunderstanding, Mr Shelby" you said, having finally recomposed yourself as you held your head high. Unwilling to, as Granny said, falter.
"Misunderstanding?" Tommy's brow furrowed as he cautiously stepped closer, sharply aware of your Grandmother's sudden snap of her head in your direction.
" I'm here to inform you, that the arrangement you had with my father is void" you cleared your throat, watching your unwelcome guests eyes pierce through the guard you had quickly shielded yourself with as he learnt of your connection to the former owner of the house he was stood in.
" Void..." Tommy scoffed, cocking a brow. His patience with you dancing around the subject and what you really intended on saying becoming tiresome.
" Yes. Void" you firmly stated, defiantly crossing your arms in reaction to his less than pleasant tone of voice aimed solely at you. Both of your unexpected allure with the other suddenly evaporating, and swiftly being replaced with a mutual irritation for one another as the bricked walls of control over the matter began to both mutually stack themselves high. "Arrow House was not my father's to give, Mr Shelby"
" That right, eh?" Tommy chuckled, as he looked back to his brothers shared amusement for your firm, but endearing stance." Then who's is it, sweetheart?"
" Mine" you coldly gave the delivering blow, severing his entertainment before turning on your heel and making your way up the long winding stairs as the staff and your flustered Grandmother accompanied by your brother hastily scattered from the foyer. Leaving Tommy's brothers in a fit of laughter while he glared at you from below on the marble floor as the overseeing eye of the iron-clad documents of Arrow House emerged from an adjoining room.
"Mr Shelby. A word, perhaps?"
" In her name?" Tommy confirmed, clenching his jaw fiercely together as he hunched over what was, for all intents and purposes, his desk.
" Correct, Mr Shelby" your newly acquired lawyer mumbled, nervously shifting his eyes to the two brothers stood uncomfortably close behind him.
" I saw the deeds myself. Watched the lying bastard put them in my name" Tommy lifted his head, pointing his finger accusingly at the lawyer he was now convinced was trying to pull one over on him, and delay his move.
" I don't doubt you, Mr Shelby" he stepped closer, and away from the two pitbulls breathing unnervingly down his neck. " You see, before the recently departed Duke died. The late mother of Miss Y/N Y/L/N made sure the deeds to Arrow House, and its land, were put in her name"
Your beloved mother. Born into a life of poverty not so different to that of Tommy's. She too, had worked her way up the precarious ladder of wealth, further cementing her future after accepting your father's proposal of marriage. But a life of financial worries had not escaped her when she began to learn of her husband's burning pockets, and his love of the casino tables.
In a desperate last attempt on her deathbed, and to guarantee you financial security, sparing you from a life of chains beautified with gold and satin ball gowns she never envisioned for you. Your mother, the fellow owner of your childhood home, had the deeds of Arrow House signed over into your safeguard, and away from the high rolling hands of your father and brother.
" For fucks sake..." Tommy mumbled with a hefty sigh, slouching down into his chair having realised the predicament he now found himself in.
" Really landed yourself in it this time, aye Tom?" Arthur couldn't help but give his younger brother an overdue sibling ribbing.
" Fuck off, Arthur" Tommy huffed in response, earning a snigger of laughter from both his brothers, who were more than happy to see him take a spectacular fall in his climb for the finer things in life.
" There is...something though, Mr Shelby. Something I could look into. For the right price, that is" the lawyer mused, his greedy fingers perching on the edge of the desk, now summed up on who the man was in front of him, and the depth of his pockets. No matter how tainted they may be. " There is a missing signature on the papers the late Duchess had filed before her death. The Dukes, missing signature. It will take some time to look into the documents' validity, but..."
" Get it done" Tommy interrupted the lawyer, ushering with his hand for him to leave before falling back into his chair with a chesty breath. Arrow House was his, he would make it so. One way or another.
After stewing over the predicament he found himself in for the better part of an hour. Tommy sat silent, weighing out the pros and cons of his next unexpected move as his stare honed in on the bronze statue of a stallion on his deck.
" What the bloody hell is he doing?" John impatiently mumbled to his eldest brother, who he himself was lost on what exactly it was Tommy was waiting for. " Tom, what..." John began to say when the office door flew open, and you came charging through. Your own patience with the head of the Birmingham gang's presence in your home wearing precariously thin.
" Mr Shelby, you've spoken with my lawyer. You know the terms of the deeds. Now I would ask you, kindly, to leave" you huffed crossed armed as you walked through the office collecting any remaining items of value in your arms. Cautiously aware of keeping them away from the three men's reputable light fingers.
" Y/N..." Tommy began as you sauntered past him, throwing the curtains open he had closed to dull the buzzing pain rattling in his skull you had welcomed him with.
" Miss Y/L/N" you were quick to correct him as Tommy ran his fingers down his face. His emerging eyes unable to divert from your swaying hips and flowing dress brushing past his leg, capturing his attention for a second time.
Watching you walk away was now, far more pleasant than having your angry frown storm towards him, Tommy thought to himself, clearing his throat as he looked at the pitiful lack of whisky in the decanter beside him. If you didn't have such a stubborn mouth, he'd be inclined to let your pretty face hang around, his petty ego nagged him. Irritated by the fact, he had lost himself in your beauty and allure in a brief moment of confusion earlier that day.
" Mr Shelby. Please" you gestured to the door as you stood defiantly in front of your father's mahogany desk, watching him brush his thumb over the muzzle of the ornament he had taken a liking for. " Mr Shelby..."
" I'm not going anywhere, love" Tommy finally spoke, looking up at your raging face as he picked up the weighty statue in his hand. " There seems to be a slight error on the deeds, Miss Y/L/N. A missing signature. Your father's signature" Tommy raised a brow as he pointed the ornament in your direction, unable to hide the triumphant smirk behind the smugness sitting on his face as he watched the realisation of your rapidly crumbling plan start to fall apart on your flustered face. "So until the deeds are reviewed..." he paused, turning the bronze horse to look at him. "Looks like you'll have to put up with me"
For the second time that day, you were left speechless by the stranger in front of you. This time, however, with a good dose of irritation spurring it on.
"Like hell I will!" You blurted, without a second thought for just how unladylike your reaction and the following response would look, when you reached over the table grabbing hold of the horse in Tommy's hand, and a childish tug of war ensued between the both of you.
" Fine" you huffed, blowing a lock of hair from In front of your eyes as you let go.
" Good" Tommy replied adjusting his tie as he sheepishly looked over to his smirking brothers, having witnessed the entire, amusing display.
"Keep it. A small souvenir" you pouted, pointing to the ornament gripped in his hand as you turned to leave, pulling a small cushion from under the bum of the youngest gangster as he sent a wink and cheeky dimpled grin your way.
" Enjoy your brief stay, Mr Shelby. And have no doubt. My lawyer will be urgently looking into your claims" you warned, clutching the handle of the door as you watched him rise from behind your father's desk and approach you.
"He already is, love. Paid him a nice sum of money to help speed things up" Tommy said standing uncomfortably close as he looked at you from head to toe, his eyes lingering on your plush lips.
A power unmatched. Money to buy his way through life. Something you knew would be dangerously futile in fighting with your lack of current funds.
" So be it, Mr Shelby" you succumbed to the situation with as much boldness as you could muster as you turned to leave. If you couldn't force him out, you would drive him out. One way or another.
Five days later...
" Good morning, Frances" you cheerfully greeted your housekeeper as you descended down the stairs in your nightie with a hop in your step, a bounce of your hair.
" Good morning, Miss" Frances swallowed heavily as her eyes darted to the grand clock ticking loudly in the corner of the entrance. Five days and counting. Five, obscenely early mornings, you had woken up earlier than the minutest chirp from any bird that had ever lived on the grounds of Arrow House.
" A little Beethoven this morning, perhaps?" you asked, perching yourself on the stool in front of the grand piano you had the staff conveniently move to the foyer. A spot that just so happened to be within close proximity to a certain someone's bedroom. " Any suggestions?"
"Fur Elise is a lovely piece, Miss. And you play it so well" Frances encouraged the mellow tune as her eyes darted to the top of the stairs, wary of the sleeping occupant only a stone throw away.
" It is. But I feel something a little more...rambunctious is needed to start the day. "Don't you think?" you smiled, turning the page to Symphony no5 as an amused smirk played on the corner of your lips whilst your hands hovered teasingly over the ivory keys, and you began to play. Loudly.
As the sound of your enthusiastic musical skills reverberated through the walls of Arrow House, a grunting Tommy stirred in his bed at the unwelcome shrill of the piano below him.
"Fuck sake..." Tommy mumbled incoherently, awakening from a deep sleep as he rolled from his stomach to his back. His eyes slowly opening, his ears tuning in. "Shut the...!" He grumbled, shouting the rest of his less than gentlemanly choice of words through the pillow he had grabbed to muffle the early wake-up call as he regained full consciousness. "FUCKKKK!" He roared from the pits of his lungs, when your continued playing only increased his irritation to a heightened, heavenly high.
Looking up at the landing stairs, a satisfied smirk grew on your face, hearing the beautiful barrage of curses from the unwelcome squatter in your home for the fifth day in a row as your fingers glided over the cool ivory.
Throwing the covers from him, Tommy grabbed his gun from the cabinet side table as he scrambled for his trousers, pulling them up as he stomped to the door.
" Seems Mr Shelby's awake, Frances" you spoke above the piano, as your loyal housekeeper nervously smiled to you, nodding her head. Readying herself for the fury of a thoroughly pissed off Tommy heading your way as his booming strides beckoned closer.
Encouraged by the sound of Tommy's door slamming shut, you continued your endeavour. Unbeknownst, that Tommy's hunched shoulders were looming over the banister. Gun in hand as he positioned his arm on the metal railing, aiming the end of the barrel directly at the woman whose sole purpose in life was to wake him up every morning with an insufferable racket.
"Don't move, darling" Tommy teasingly whispered as his eyes narrowed in, his breath steadying whilst he watched your fingers dance along the keys as he adjusted his shot.
As the sight of your lonely digit lingered over the next key, Tommy squeezed the trigger, shooting off the finishing note before you had the chance to give your triumphant end.
Leaping from the smoky crater now forever embedded in your grand piano, your eyes shot up to see your unwelcome roommate looking down at you with a cocky smirk as he shoved his gun against the naked skin between the waistband of his trousers.
" Morning, love"
NEXT PART
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