#Pre sea Training

[puckinghischier]

Crowded

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: reader gets nervous in the crowd, but luke is right there to help her out of it

notes: i’m once again throwing a luke fic out into the world. i saw this request in my inbox and immediately thought of the zach bryan concert the boys just went to. i would literally give anything to attend a concert with them. i just KNOW they’re great concert buddies. sorry it’s kinda short, i just didn’t know how to drag it out any longer. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - Character A can tell Character B is getting nervous in a big crowd, so A slips their hand into theirs to help them calm down.

[2.8k]

You had been looking forward to tonight for months. From the second Luke surprised you with the tickets for your birthday, you immediately started planning an outfit, making a playlist, and anticipating the trip.

When he told you his brothers and a few friends were tagging along, it only made you more excited, enjoying every moment you got to spend with your boyfriend’s brothers and their hockey friends.

After the concert, everyone was driving over to stay at the lake house for a few weeks, enjoying as much of the summer together as they can before pre-season training starts. You couldn’t wait to have a few weeks of fun on the water, but also wanted tonight to last as long as it could.

Your excitement grew even more when you found the perfect outfit for the occasion, even buying a matching light-up cowboy hat off of Etsy. You were especially excited for the chance to wear your boots again, not having many excuses to wear them in Jersey.

Luke had his hand planted firmly on the small of your back, making sure not to lose you as you weave through the crowd. You had bought Luke a new shirt for tonight, the orange t-shirt matching the burnt orange color of your dress.

He leads you over to the crowded merchandise stand, telling you to pick whatever you wanted. You struggled, loving every item tacked onto the display board. When you told him you couldn’t decided between a t-shirt and a hoodie, he bought you both before you could even open your mouth to protest, buying himself a hat and t-shirt as well.

“Luke, you just spent over $300 without even batting an eye,” you barked at him, crossing your arms to try and look menacing.

You know Luke could’ve afforded to buy you the entire stand and still not make a dent in his bank account, but you don’t like when he spends large amounts on you for no reason.

“Yeah, so?” he shrugs, taking your elbow and leading you away from the cloth covered table, slinging the clear bag of merchandise over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes and huff at him, unfolding your arms and taking his hand, letting him lead you through the sea of bodies.

“’So?’”, you mimicked his response. “You didn’t have to buy half of the merch stand just because it took me more than three seconds to choose which shirt I wanted.”

He glances back at you over his shoulder. “The fact that you didn’t have your mind made up the second you saw the options means you clearly wanted both, so I bought you both.”

You reach over and pinch his side, mildly annoyed with how well he understands the way your brain works.

“Quit pinching me you little gremlin,” Luke hisses out, the nickname being one he uses when you’re being stubborn or annoying.

“Quit spending all of your money on me, you giraffe-man,” you fire back.

You can see his shoulder’s shake, your impromptu nickname for him amusing him.

He doesn’t respond right away, the two of you having made it to the entrance to your seats, walking up to the worker standing under the numbered sign.

The usher instructs you to show your tickets to one of the workers at the bottom of the set of stairs.

When you walk into the arena, you notice how large the space feels, the open floor and mostly empty seats creating the illusion of size.

Luke has to nudge you a bit, reminding you to keep walking, too in awe of the fact you’re actually here.

“Not so unhappy with me spending my money on you now, huh?” he leans down to whisper into your ear, making sure you can hear him over the roaring chatter.

You hit him lightly in the chest, a smirk on his face as the two of you walk down, showing your tickets to the usher once you reach the bottom of the stairs, a bright colored wristband with bold letters spelling out VIP FLOOR printed on each one.

You make your way over to a small, sectioned off area near the main stage, seeing the rest of your group already waiting for the two of you.

Jack is the first one to notice you approaching, his eyes lighting up and arms being slung into the air.

“It’s about time! We were starting to worry the two of you got lost!” he calls out, causing the rest of the group to turn their heads and call out greetings.

You smile, having missed those in the group that didn’t live in New Jersey.

Walking over to Quinn first, you give him a long hug, the last time you saw him being when he played his brothers in Jersey months ago. The frequent facetime calls the two of you share not being enough to scratch your Quinn itch.

“Quinnifer! I missed you!” you squeal as you squeeze him as tight as you can.

You can feel his chuckle as he squeezes you back. “I missed you too, Munchkin” he leans back, ruffling your hair.

Although you see Jack nearly every day back home in Jersey, Quinn is the brother you’re closest to. You and Jack are literally two peas in a pod, but there’s something about Quinn that made you feel comfortable with him from the moment Luke introduced the two of you.

He’s like the big brother you never had, always calling him when you need advice or need to complain to someone about Luke.

Anytime you have a particularly nasty argument with Luke, Quinn is the one you call. He always allows you say whatever you need to get out of your system before breaking the problem down and agreeing that his brother is an idiot, but that he also loves you with everything he has in him.

At first you tried to go to Jack with problems surrounding your relationship with Luke, but he clearly didn’t know how to help you. He either told Luke about your conversations, causing the argument to grow worse because Luke claimed Jack had no business knowing about what’s happening in your relationship, or he would shrug his shoulders and say ���just don’t yell at him when I’m trying to sleep. I need my beauty rest.”

You swat Quinn’s hand away, trying to smooth down your now tousled hair.

“I see you dressed the goon, tonight,” he points out Luke’s orange shirt.

You turn your head to see him talking with Cole.

“Believe it or not, it was his idea,” you think back to after you bought your dress, trying it on for Luke once you came home from shopping with your girls. He loved the way you looked in it, his eyes widening the second you emerged from your walk-in closet.

He swallowed thickly, his gravelly voice choking out a “Did they happen to have a matching shirt? Because if you’re wearing that, I’m going to need something to match so everyone knows you’re there with me, not up for grabs.”

You blush at the memory, looking back over to Quinn.

“I always knew he was whipped, but damn you’ve got him down bad, huh?” he shakes his head, smiling in amusement.

“Wrapped around my little finger,” you hold up your pinky, wiggling it at Quinn with a giggle.

You feel a pair of arms snake their way around your waist, a heavy object resting itself on top of your head.

“What’s wrapped around your little finger?” Luke asks, his chin bumping against your scalp as he talks.

“You, duh,” you reply, moving your head forward and craning your neck to look up at him.

He looks between you and his older brother before uttering out a “Oh one hundred percent. Couldn’t unravel myself if I even wanted to,” he lets go of you, stepping up to stand beside you.

Quinn just laughs, bringing Luke in for a hug.

After you make your way around to greet everyone, the lights are dimming and the atmosphere inside of the arena changes.

You love the hum of excitement in the air, finding Luke and standing in front of him. You hear the first notes of Overtime as Zach Bryan comes onto the stage, screaming as loud as you possibly can.

Luke has a content, amused smile on his face as you scream out the lyrics, jumping and dancing around as the beat allows.

As the concert goes on, you make the switch from dancing with Luke to dancing with Jack, attempt to get on Quinn’s shoulders to get Zach’s attention, and slinging your arm over Cole’s shoulder to sway back and forth with him during one of the slower songs.

When it comes time for Zach to sing Revival, your favorite song of his, you beg Luke to leave your secluded area to get closer to the stage, wanting to experience being in the crowd for this one particular song.

He looks at you apprehensively, eyeing the large sea of people on top of one another, barely any room between the bodies pressed together. He worries about losing you in the crowd, your small frame allowing you to get swept away easily.

You tug on his arm like a little kid, repeating “please, please, please,” over and over again, assuring him you’ll be fine.

Luke eventually gives in, letting his brothers know where you two are going, claiming you’ll meet back up with them after the concert.

Grabbing your hand, Luke leads you off of the small platform and into the crowd, pushing his way as far up to the front as his large body will allow him.

You stop just a row or two of people away from the stage where Zach had just climbed onto, adjusting his guitar and microphone before starting the song.

As the song rang out around you, you sang along to every word, joining the rowdy crowd as the chorus starts.

You start to jump around in the small space you have, enjoying every second, until Zach walks his way over to the small portion of stage in front of where you stand.

As soon as his figure stands over the crowd around you, bodies start pushing against one another, everyone trying to get as close to him as they can. You feel yourself being shifted towards the metal barricade, not being able to fight against the rush of people.

You start panicking, whipping your head from side to side to find Luke. All you can see around you are strangers, not being able to move your body to look behind you. You have absolutely no control over your own body anymore, being stuck in-between a girl slightly taller than you and a man that has at least a hundred pounds on you.

Squeaking out a “excuse me,” and “can you let me out please?” you try to make your exit from the suffocating situation. Your eyes turn frantic when you realize that no one can hear you or cares to hear you. Your breath picks up, heart pounding in your chest.

You can feel the tears pricking in your eyes, not being able to regulate your breathing anymore, gasping hot air into your lungs as fast as you can.

You’re about to let out a scream, begging someone to pay attention to you and let you out of the mess you’re in, when you feel a familiar hand slip its way into yours.

Whipping your head around, you catch a glimpse of curly hair behind you, not realizing that the body pressed against your back has been Luke this entire time. You figured you had lost him when you were surged forward, unable to see him anywhere around you.

Your breath starts to slow slightly, knowing you’re not alone in this crowd easing some of your nerves. The feeling of your heart pounding is still present, not wanting to be in this situation one second longer.

Luke attempts to tug your body back towards him, but the impenetrable wall of people around you prevents him from doing so.

You manage to wiggle your way in a circle somehow, now facing Luke.

He takes one look at your frightened face and knows he has to get you out of here, now.

Pulling you towards him, he cages you in with is arms, your cheek pressed to his chest. He starts walking backwards, his hockey roots coming in handy as he all but body checks people out of his way. The two of you finally make it to the back of the large crowd, Luke not letting go of you until you were back over in your original section.

Quinn was watching the whole thing from the small platform he was stood on, about to walk over and fish you out himself before he noticed Luke’s head slowly moving backwards, away from the stage.

He can see you’re still shaken, walking over to meet the two of you at the top of the ramp.

“Is she okay? Is she hurt?” Quinn asks, concerned about how frightened even Luke’s face looks right now.

“No, she’s fine. Just shaken up, I think. She got trapped between a random girl and some dude at least triple her size,” he tells Quinn, running his hand down your hair in soothing motions. Your hands were still clutching his t-shirt, not wanting to let go of him just yet.

Quinn stares at your trembling figure the whole time, knowing you don’t want to leave Luke’s embrace but wishing he could do something to help you.

“Let’s get her out of here and to the car, yeah?” Quinn suggests, picking up yours and Luke’s bag of merchandise off of the floor of the platform.

Luke just nods, leading you back down the ramp.

Quinn steps over and let’s everyone know to just meet them in the parking garage before following yours and Luke’s intertwined bodies towards the nearest exist.

Luke manages to get you up the stairs and out into the outer ring of the arena without letting you go. Both pairs of your feet moving in tandem, not once risking tripping over one another.

He leads you out of the doors and into the cool night air.

You finally allow yourself to leave his embrace, instantly feeling better in the openness of the outdoors. Never letting go of his hand, you continue to let him lead you to the large garage.

Luke’s BMW sits right where he parked it, the loud beep echoing in the dark garage as he unlocks it.

He opens the passenger door, lifting you slightly to sit you down on the leather seat. His hands come up to your cheeks, his thumbs wiping the stray hairs that were sticking to the damp skin under your eyes.

“All good now?” he asks you, the frantic look of your eyes now gone.

You nod, looking into his concerned eyes. “M’alright. Just got scared. Too many people,” you mumble out, leaning into Luke’s palm slightly. “Sorry I made us go out there. Just wanted to have fun.”

Luke leans his forehead against yours, shaking it back and forth slightly. “No, it’s not your fault. Just bad timing is all,” he assures you, knowing how upset you’re going to be when you realized you missed most of the last song.

He pulls his head back, standing back to his full height outside of the SUV.

You notice Quinn standing a few feet away, letting you and Luke have your space.

Frowning, you call out to the eldest Hughes. “You didn’t have to leave early too, Quinny.”

Quinn looks over when he hears you address him, walking closer to the vehicle.

“Ehh, show was almost over anyways,” he waves you off. “Had to make sure my favorite little munchkin was okay,” he shrugs, telling you its no big deal.

You smile at him, thankful you not only have your boyfriend to look out for you, but Quinn as well.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. Both of you,” you look between the two brothers, only ever seeing how alike they look when they’re standing in front of you.

They both tell you it’s not necessary, the main priority being that you’re safe and sound outside of the arena.

“Fine, I guess that means neither of you want to stop for post-concert pancakes on the way to the lake, then?” you tease, watching both of their heads snap up. All three brothers’ secret love of sweets is something you use to your advantage, only ever having to mention how good ice creams sounds before Luke and Jack are ushering you out of the door and driving you to the nearest ice-cream shop.

“Well, I guess if you really just feel the need to do something nice for us…” Quinn trails off, making a smile break out on your face, unable to hide the laugh at the sudden switch up.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you continue to laugh at the pair, Luke leaning in to buckle your seatbelt for you as Quinn climbs in the backseat, sending a quick text to the rest of your group, telling them if they want to join in on the pancake outing, they need to be making their way out of the arena, and fast.

[were-changing-cake-vaults]

See, the thing is, Grian isn’t lying when he says that the snails aren’t his doing.

He gets why people are saying that; the timeline of him finally getting the stupid book and the snails emerging from the sea line up near-perfectly, as if they were another manic machination of his boredom. It’s also the fact that they just straight up came out of the sea, or at least should’ve- he swears up and down that the pink one shot down from the sky, he saw it with his own two eyes. But, considering he doesn’t control the sky, the pink snail cannot be his doing at the very least. And the teal one? The one that people are calling his snail? He just found it after a particularly stormy night, chilling on the docks, and he found it just so damn cute that he took it as a pet. Both of those aren’t Grian’s fault. They can’t be, by that logic.

But honestly, by now, he’s getting a little worried about the snails, in either case of his innocence with them. He’ll be the first to admit that he’s not the sanest person on the Hermitcraft server—he’s not sure who is, really, when everyone has their own things going on—particularly within the past few weeks, if the beard and book count as indication. His memory has been a little foggy for a while, so it very well could’ve been him putting snails everywhere, and he just flat-out forgot for one reason or another. Though, that doesn’t seem likely- he’s strong, but not strong enough to haul a giant snail out of the sea and onto a literal freight train, nor does he have the patience to meticulously choose snails that are sturdy enough to replace the wheels. That had to be a meticulous and pre-planned process, something Grian doesn’t really have the time for.

This leaves him with three conclusions: if it is him behind the snail acts, he’s not the only thing occupying his body. If it isn’t, well, there’s still something causing the snails to make their way through the works of Magic Mountain, and it certainly isn’t another hermit, based on their reactions. If it’s a mix of both—considering he’s found himself freeing snails from the cages Scar put them in without remembering how he got there—then the snails aren’t so cute anymore, and Grian’s just about ready to—

To—

He’s just—

Where was he?

Right. The snails. They’re not his doing, pinky promise. Grian got his book, he filled the prophecy, and he’s stopped fishing like it’s his last day on earth. The bit is over. He’s moved on- why would he beat a dead horse into the ground like that? Sure, he can still smell rot wafting from the river, but he’s Gem’s neighbor, and she’s got that whole fish horror thing going on, so it very well could be her. Nevermind the fact that they were eating her lighthouse, and she wouldn't do that to her own hard work. And sure, she came to him when a snail chose her--the way he said it would--but she was probably under the assumption that it was his, just like everyone else. It wasn’t. He’s sure it wasn’t.

The snails would explain his white-hot anger at Scar’s little cooking prank; the way Grian’s skin felt like it was burning every time he looked at the pan. How, despite knowing that his friend was just messing with him, every instinct was telling him to kill him where he stood, no mercy. How it felt like the same seething rage he felt when Scar had fished up a copy of the book weeks prior, and he’d done that very thing. And maybe, just maybe, it would explain how sometimes, on the nights where his dreams are the most vivid and gross, he wakes up in the Chamber, positioned as if in a prayer.

But if it is…

A streak of fear runs up his spine. The weather, despite his dedication to the sea released, is still stormy and grey. The water is still murky and washing slime up onto his shores. The dreams of the book haven’t stopped, despite him clutching it like a rosary on even good days. The whispers of the wind are an angry, menacing thing in his ear. He thought it would be over once he got what he wanted. He thought it would be enough to satisfy whatever the ocean needed from him.

There is a rod in his hands, he realizes. He throws it as far away as he can. It lands next to a clump of snails, who all turn to look at him with an otherworldly menace in their pitch black eyes.

Just what has he released onto his home?

[giveafike]

One where Jude and his girlfriend/wife go for a swim and she‘s scared? Thanks!

TLDR: Wife!reader x JudeBellingham on holidays, but he doesn't know about your fears.

Word count + info: 2.3k! Blurb! Tiny bit of Spanish incorporated, some dialogue too : )

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! Mention of Thalassophobia + a panic attack, if that is a trigger, proceed w caution!! Otherwise, nothing more : ).

Azzie Notes ✚: HI!! First ever Jude ask here! I'm sorry it took me a while to get around to this req, anon! I hope I did it justice for you, I was struggling with writer's block for this prompt for some time, thinking how to flesh it out.

Also, I made a twitter ( @azziegivesafike !!) Feel free to follow and msg me about non requests there, I'll be posting life updates, story + req updates and spoilers/teasers alongside other things, so it'd be nice to have a community over there!

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Waves - J.B.

The sun hung high and lazily over the quiet Mediterranean countryside, casting long shadows on the rolling hills of olive trees and wildflowers. You and Jude had stolen away from the world, far from the roars and pressures, to a little coastal town where time felt like it had slowed down and life felt more gentle. Jude’s off-season was sacred, a time for just the two of you, to reconnect without the distractions of football, press, and the ever-present hum of expectations. No obligations. No noise. Just love.

It wasn’t out of character for Jude to plan some sort of surprise during your time together. Sometimes it was a romantic dinner; other times, it was a helicopter ride over a city. But this time, he had gone a step further, maybe even a step in the wrong direction.

You walked hand in hand down to the dock, the scent of saltwater thick in the air. Jude was rambling on, his voice bright with excitement. He had planned a surprise: a yacht, just for you two, to spend the day on the open sea. His voice lilted with that familiar Birmingham cadence, thick and warm like the breeze that carried your laughter.

“I’m tellin’ ya,” he said, his eyes glimmering as he spoke. “Pre-season training camp’s gonna be intense, but I’m already buzzin’ for it. New lads seem sound, and we’ve got a proper chance at the title this year.” His hand squeezed yours as you neared the marina, the glint of the water stretching endlessly ahead. “But none of that matters now. Today, it’s just you and me.”

You smiled at him weakly, though your heart had already started its familiar, uneasy thud in your chest. The yacht, sleek and pristine, bobbed gently on the water. All you could see was the endless expanse of ocean beyond, that shimmering surface stretching far beyond the horizon.

You had been trying to get better, to be better, to manage your fear. But this was a step far out of your comfort zone. You're not really sure what or when your fear of water had really sunk into you but all you could remember was that prickly, hot, sickly feeling when you stood near a deep pool or saw videos of massive waves engulfing everything around it. The anxiety is all too familiar, the numbness in your body taking over each time.

With Jude, you’d started dipping your feet into pools, sometimes even wading up to your hips, standing at the shallow end of Jude’s villa pool in Spain. But that had taken everything, deep breaths, quiet pep talks, and the promise that you were safe. It made you feel awful seeing Jude splash around, wide-smiled and unafraid, while you sat by, fearing you might accidentally fall into the pool if you dangled too far in. You felt as though you might even hold him back in that sense. You had convinced yourself that in this bubble with Jude and his quiet and still pool, you were secure and okay.

But here, staring at the open sea, none of that safety was present. Still, Jude’s excitement was infectious, his beaming smile too bright to dim with your fears, his big brown eyes shining. You bit your lip, your fingers twitching in his as your pulse began to race.

Jude caught up in his excitement had barely noticed. He was a great husband, always attentive but his excitement overcame was overcoming all his senses and thoughts.

“Just wait ‘til we’re out there,” he said as you boarded the yacht, the sun catching the sea in dazzling shards of light. “You’ll love it. The water’s clear, you can see the coral and fish. It’s so perfect. No one or nothing around, just us.”

You stepped aboard, the fabric of your sundress flowing in the salty breeze, trying to focus on his voice, his plans for the afternoon, his talk of peace and quiet. But as the boat moved further from the dock, the tether to the land slipped further from view, replaced by the endless, glassy water that stretched on all sides. The small town grew minuscule in the distance as if it was swallowed entirely by the rippling waves.

The boat stopped near a small private swimming spot, the crystal-clear water below revealing hints of vibrant coral and fish darting below the surface. You could see Jude’s eyes light up as he gazed down at the water, his joy palpable. He blabbered on about all sorts of fish he could see, how quick they were, how clear the water was; all of it wasted on your deaf ears as you tried to slow your breathing for the umpteenth time. You could barely nod along, but your heart now thundered in your chest, trying desperately to ground yourself in the conversation.

“Uh-huh, and what’s the coral like? Pretty?” you forced out, voice thin and tight.

Jude grinned, already pulling off his shirt, his skin gleaming in the sunlight. “Yeah, proper beautiful down there. You’ve gotta come in with me, babe. You’ll love it.” He gestured to the water as he stood on the edge of the boat, his excitement undiminished. “Look how clear it is!”

You gently rose and glanced down at the water, the clarity revealing the depths below, a whole world of coral, fish, and sand. Your breath caught.

How far down does it go? What’s lurking beyond what you can see?

The distance between you and the ocean floor felt infinite as you stood a few steps from the edge, a chasm of the unknown. You tried to distract yourself, to hold onto the sound of Jude’s voice.

“I think I’ll stay here,” you called back, your voice small, like it might shatter if you pushed too hard. “I’m good on the boat.”

But Jude had already dived in, his sleek form cutting through the water, disappearing for a moment before resurfacing with a joyful whoop. He tread water effortlessly, his laughter echoing across the calm sea. “Babe, you’ve gotta feel this, it’s like bathwater! Perfect day for a swim!”

Your stomach churned as you watched him, so comfortable in a place that made you feel so small. The water cradled him, bright and blue and endless, while you stood on the deck, now tiptoeing towards the edge, gripping the railing like it was your last anchor to safety. Your knuckles were white and your hands clammy as you peered down. The gentle sway of the boat beneath your feet seemed to pull you toward the water, a slow, inevitable tug that made your head spin. It was almost as though it was mocking you, the waves teasing you, the fish swimming in hypnotic patterns to try to pull you to them, the gentle waves hitting the boat as a threat; it was far too much stimulation.

Your thoughts became your enemies. That clear water, once serene, now felt like a mouth, gaping wide, ready to swallow you whole.

It’s so deep. The ground’s gone. You’re so far from land.

You tried to push the thoughts away, focusing on the warmth of the sun, the distant cry of a seagull. But the waves inside your head began to build, crashing over your mind in relentless surges.

Your pulse skyrocketed, your heart pounding like a drum inside your chest, each beat louder, more frantic. Your breath quickened, short, gasping. The air around you thinned, each inhale shallower than the last. You felt that bundle of knots twisting painfully, feeling sickly and disgusting inside, the feeling of sweat prickling against your skin, tears burning your eyes. The sounds around you went mute as your ears rung loud; you knew full well what was coming.

The boat, once a place of peace, now felt like it was moving beneath you, rocking harder, tipping you toward the water. Your grip on the railing tightened, your knuckles bone white, but the world blurred as though the sun itself had turned against you. It was too bright. The horizon was too far. Everything spun as if the boat was dissolving into the sea.

“Jude...” The word barely left your throat, choking on the tightness that had coiled around your chest. When you moved, your legs gave way, useless, wobbling like they no longer belonged to you.

You’re going to fall if you stay standing here. You’re going to drown.

Panic seized you.

It crashed into you like a tidal wave, slamming you against the rail, knocking the breath from your lungs. You staggered, your knees giving out, collapsing onto the deck, falling onto the small step rather than off the boat. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air that wouldn’t come, the world shrinking to nothing but the wild, frantic roar inside your own head. The sensation was like drowning, without ever touching the water. You crawled and wobbled to the sunbed, digging your nails as you landed your hands on it. Your limbs were heavy and useless like they were trapped under an invisible current, the weight of it pulling you under.

Your cries felt muffled, swallowed by the sea of your mind. The world spun violently. Your vision blurred, darkening at the edges as your throat burned, air refusing to fill your lungs. The boat swayed, or maybe it was just you, thrown again and again against an invisible tide, your body curling in on itself. Your hair stuck to your face, tangled, distorting your vision as if the water had already risen up to surround you. You could feel it, cold, wet, suffocating, pressing in from all sides. Your limbs felt like dead weight, too heavy to move, too weak to fight.

You were drowning. Drowning on dry land.

The harder you fought to breathe, the more your chest constricted, the pressure unbearable, your vision narrowing to nothing but the dark tunnel in front of you. You couldn’t see. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe. The sound of your own gasps filled your ears, and the world dissolved into nothing but the relentless, terrifying roar of the panic gripping you.

Jude’s laughter stopped, his voice barely piercing through.

“Babe?”

His voice felt so distant, a muffled echo in the chaos of your mind. You barely registered the splash of water as he pulled himself back onto the boat, the pounding of his footsteps as he rushed toward you.

“Hey, hey, love, I’m here. I’m right here.”

His hands found your face, cupping your cheeks with the warmth you desperately needed. His voice, once carefree, was now a steady anchor in the storm thrashing through you. He wiped away the tears you hadn’t even realised were falling, his thumb brushing your skin with gentle strokes.

“Shh, it’s okay, cariño. You’re okay. Breathe with me, yeah? Just breathe.” His forehead pressed gently against yours, grounding you, bringing you back to something real.

Your lungs ached, your chest still tight, but you fought to follow his words.

Breathe. Just breathe.

You struggled to match the slow, steady rhythm of his breath. His chest rose and fell against yours, a steady, calming presence. Slowly, painfully, your breath began to slow, the sobs leaving your mouth, the grip around your lungs loosening little by little.

“Eso es, my love,” he murmured, his lips brushing soft kisses across your forehead, through your hair. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.” His hands stayed steady on your face, never leaving, his voice a constant, unwavering presence, pulling you back from the edge. He swept your hair back, away from your face, rubbing circles on your back.

“I-I didn’t know that you were scared of- well I-,” he whispered, the guilt heavy in his voice. “I wish I had known. I should’ve known. God, I would never put you through something like this,” His voice cracked, and he hugged her tightly, pulling her against him, his arms wrapping around her like a shield. “I didn’t see it. I really didn't know. I’m so sorry, cariño. I should’ve seen it.”

She let out a shaky breath, her body still trembling, but the worst of the panic had ebbed, her head resting against his shoulder, safe in the circle of his arms. She could feel the regret and sadness in every breath he took, his chest rising and falling with the weight of it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I never knew how...” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I didn’t want to ruin it for you, you were so excited, Jude.”

“You could never ruin anything for me,” he said softly, his lips brushing her temple. “Never. If I’d known, I would’ve never brought you out here, love. I’m such an idiot.” He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her tighter. “I should’ve realised. I was too caught up in everything…”

For a long moment, they stayed like that, her breathing finally steady, the calm returning as she clung to him, his solid, comforting presence pulling her back to herself. He kept whispering soft reassurances, holding her close until the panic had all but faded, replaced with the warmth of his embrace.

After a while, Jude pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and spoke softly. “I’m taking us back to land. Somewhere small, quiet, just us. Somewhere with your feet on solid ground, yeah?”

She nodded, breaking a small smile while tears still clung to her lashes, but she felt safe. “Somewhere dry would be nice.”

He smiled, kissing her one last time before getting up. “No more surprises, I promise. There's a little village close by, waiting for just the two of us.”

As the yacht turned back toward land, the pier coming into view in the distance, she knew that with Jude by her side, she could face anything.

[gladiatorcunt]

- APOLLO REACHES FOR THE SEA | V.

under my skin’s an intrinsic shrine

cw: kinktober prompt (s) - scent & food play, canon typical obsessive behavior, anankin & reader are both 20, reader has a pussy, more suggestive, friends to lovers, drunk-ish sex, unprotected sex, implied angst of the series’s canon events, aotc!era but pre actual aotc events, dead dove do not eat

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“Ani, watch out! You’re going to spill the plums!” You giggle, ushering him in the quarters you share with your Master Shaak Ti.

It’s late at night, a rare day without missions as you both get closer to knighthood. So Anakin had casually suggested swiping some food from the food stalls in the city and having a sleepover, just like old times. You’d known each other since he had come to the temple 12 years ago, and you can admit that you’ve been missing the hours you used to waste away laughing and dreaming of your futures as Jedi Masters. You had bonded over wanting to help people and become powerful enough to stop tragedy from happening, he’s whispered things to you that he fears Obi-Wan Kenobi would flay him alive for.

He’s the only one that knows anything about your family, what you ran to the Jedi Order from. You’re not allowed to have personal belongings from that time of your life, but you slipped a good luck charm in the folds of Anakin’s tunic on your 14th birthday and pecked his lips before darting off to your sparring session with your Master.

Perhaps it’s a panic response, clinging to these brief silver linings when you can sense his force signature darkening. Anakin does what you wish you could, deep down, how can you judge his heart when it’s other half aches in your chest?

“You think too little of me, Scyva.” Ani grins, balancing the tray in the crook of his arm as he follows you to your room.

Scyva, because that’s what an edgy prepubescent you had insisted on if he was going to call you a name derived from the Old Gods. In truth, it made you terribly shy that he wanted to call you Aivela, that he still does after he gives you the bare minimum of saying the name you wanted first.

“Well,” he had ‘hmph’ed back then, “Then I’ll be Izax, because that’s Scyva’s husband.”

So simple, so assured, like it was the most obvious declaration in the world to make. Playing house with forces beyond your understanding in their clothes.

Your cheeks warm as you recall the memory, you close your door hoping that Masters Shaak Ti and Obi-Wan will be delayed more than you thought.

Anakin had also managed to finesse a couple of cups of Jawa Juice from Dex’s Diner, “Master’s a good friend of his, but he won’t rat us out.”

Both of those cups are gone and empty within minutes, the pair of you doped up on the sizzling connection between you. This unbreakable bond that formed all those years ago, it’s like all your pains and troubles fade away when you’re near Anakin. He’s told you the same, with an imploring look in his doe eyes, begging you without words to understand what that must mean. Why you two are so clearly meant for each other.

He’s the chosen one, he teased you when you were 15 and had lost round after round to him in training, the force wouldn’t want it’s son to be without a chosen one of his own.

You were 16 and learning how to swim together, you had forgotten how but Anakin held you up in the water like he had been doing it all his life. You pecked his lips again then too, that’s all you ever did, the farthest you went. To do more would be to open up durasteel gates that would flood Coruscant in sparks and wet wires.

You shrug off the outer layers of your tunic, plopping down on your bed and sighing, “I could never think more of you if I tried, Ani.”

Give Anakin Skywalker a pearl and he’ll turn it into a Greater Krayt Dragon.

His seemingly stuck grin widens and he clamors onto the bed to lie right beside you, “Yeah? Typical of my biggest fan.”

Your arms brush together and a sudden jolt of fire burns down your throat.

You roll your eyes, picking up a plum and biting into it, ignoring the bob of Anakin’s adam’s apple and the flash of arousal in the force.

You don’t know why, but you make eye contact as you finish the piece of fruit, making an extra effort to lick some of the purplish-red juice off your bottom lip.

Anakin shuffles closer and reaches out to rub away what you missed with his thumb. Your breath hitches, the air in the room is shifting to something you can’t even say you didn’t anticipate or secretly wish for. Ani’s always so warm, every part of him, and the comfort his coarse finger tip brings to your often bitten lip lights a candle in your soul.

Neither of you say anything as he brings his other closer to your hip, his fingers ghosting along the curve like he’s afraid to touch you, that you’ll disappear if he lets himself buy into the delusion that he can have something so sacred. Anakin Skywalker doesn’t buy, he gets bought, but every teasing moment over the years does some serious damage to a 20 year old guy’s psyche. Maybe you should think of it like sparring, you can’t improve without throwing yourself into the fray.

The kiss he plants on you isn’t anywhere close to one of your previous “friendly” pecks, it’s ravenous. He’s enthusiastic, moving to sink his thumbs into the divots under your jaw so he can tilt your head up. He moans into it too, heady and smug with every caress of your lips and every wet pop signaling you pulling away to breathe or change your position.

“Fuck, you taste so good, Aivela.” Anakin hisses, eagerly yanking the rest of your robes off in between more kisses and briefly separating to toss them unceremoniously on the floor.

You moan, sliding your hands up his bare back and pulling at hair that’s not quite long enough to tug like you want to, “So do you, Ani, force-”

He cuts you off by snaking his tongue in your mouth, cleaning your teeth from the dark mess of the plum juice, which only stains you both even further. His arousal in the force grows and you can feel his dick twitch against your hip, the bond tells you that he loves being messy with you, that it feels right to be this real and uninhibited with each other. To be this raw.

“You ruin me, you know that? I’m trying so hard to be perfect. For you, for Obi-Wan, for the council, for my mom.”

It’s easy at this moment, with this boy, to be damningly honest. “ You’re already perfect to me, Ani, there’s nothing about you I would change.”

You’ll always love the 9 year old boy who became your first friend, and you became his, every version of him after that only fleshes him out and waters the underestimated sapling into a massive tree with nonflammable roots.

Anakin shudders when you say he’s perfect, the feeling of being indulged and complimented by a friend who he’s spent countless nights jerking off to, muffling his whines and groans into his pillow so Obi-Wan doesn’t suspect anything. But knowing his master, he probably already knows and is discussing it with your master right now.

You pick up on his train of thought, “You don’t have to be so paranoid, Ani. You don’t know for sure that anything bad is going to happen.”

He nods and shrugs it off, storing that opportunity to spiral away for later. You exclaim in surprise as he dives in to kiss you again. The kisses are hotter now, heavy and sloppy with intention. Anakin waves a hand around trying to find the tray of plums without breaking away from you, he eventually fumbles onto it and yanks it to push into your hip.

You pull back in confusion, but Anakin smiles and pushes you to fall on your back with his hand splayed out across your chest.

He takes a plum and bites off half of it, leaning down to share it with you as he crushes the other half above your body, honing in on the squelching sound and passing you bits of the plum from his tongue to yours.

“I’ve had dreams of a goddess of love on a lonely planet in the future, a god too, and they look just. like. you.” He draws back and punctuates each word with a swipe of his tongue through the plum juice on your ribs.

You hear more than see the sniff he takes of your skin, deep lung fulls of the fruity hints in your natural musk. He humps into the mattress and his cock twitches, your belly clenches when he flicks droplets of sweat off of you, the pink in his bunny tongue winking up at you in the low light.

You relax against your pillows and run a hand over his hair as he busies himself with drinking the plum juice off your body like body shots. You bask in his pulsing force signature and the tantalizing sight of your best friend Ani humping his gorgeous cock on the chub gathered on your lower stomach.

You feed him more plums, moaning as he slurps at your fingers and sucks them clean, wrapping his lips around them down to the knuckle. A bright yellow thank you rings out in the force. He’s messy on purpose, letting bits fall out of his mouth onto your tummy, just so he can take another hit off your skin and clean the juice up. He licks long flat stripes up your soft stomach, making sure you're watching as he moans and swallows down every drop.

Anakin’s pupils are twin black holes, and he actually smiles when the teasing gets to be too much to handle and you send out your desire for him to move downwards into the force. His teeth are almost sharp in this lightning, your breaths are shallow and he scrapes them over the top of your mound.

“Smells amazing.” He moans and tries to press a kiss to each little hair he finds. “ ‘s gonna be way better than some fuckin’ plums. Love you so much, Scyva, Nahut..”

Goddess of sorrow, you don’t know how you bring him to his knees.

God of apathy, hated by all but the other part of you, there’s something dark unfurling in you too.

Your half heart skips a beat. It’s probably just the Jawa Juice, you reason, even though Anakin jumps out of speeders more often than not and is so damn reckless he can handle a cup of fermented grains. You yourself feel buzzed, pleasantly tipsy in a way that only enhances the sensation of physical touch.

“You trust me?” Ani asks, long fingers poised to slip into your hole, he won’t give in until you learn to use your words.

No more beating around bush, instead more busting the fuck through that thing.

“You’re the only one I trust.”

The force flares around you, endlessly pleased.

He returns to sucking the juice off your skin as he dips two of his fingers inside at once. Sue him for being impatient, but he’s getting everything he’s ever wanted right now. By what the force is telling him, so are you. You gasp at the little sting, but you let your legs go lax against the sheets, spreading yourself wider for him.

Anakin takes a second to gawk in awe at the view, your wet hole clinging to his fingers as he slowly pumps them deeper into you. You’re both so glad he didn’t beg Dex for more Jawa Juice, there’s no way you can run from this memory forever. He picks up his dry humping, whimpering as his precum falls on your favorite blanket.

He tosses his head back to stare into your eyes and grinds against your tummy like his dick is where his fingers are. You’re nodding, making the cutest little hiccups and tensing your thighs, resisting the urge to squeeze them around his arm. Anakin chuckles as he feeds you the other two fingers, imagine how wide your entrance would stretch around his entire fist.

Your pussy flutters around his fingers and he hunches his back to be able to kiss your clit hello, taking a whiff of that too before suckling. You keen and he takes his mouth off of you, massaging your slick into his golden skin.

He moans and drives his tip further into your plush curves, circling his thumb on your clit until you both tumble over the edge. It’s not a mind shattering orgasm for either of you, too little stimulation and too pliant from the booze, but that’s okay. That won’t be the only time you’ll cum tonight, and this time it’ll feel so good the force rebuilds itself around the two of you, Anakin will do his very best to blame going in raw on intoxication.

That’s what you’ll blame for clawing at his ass and hooking your heels into his back to keep all of him inside of you, like the force itself won’t let him pull out to sleep. You’ll figure out what to do in the morning. But for now, Anakin is grabbing your hand and leading you into the fresher.

The plum tray clatters to the floor.

[qingxin-dream]

“The Afterparty”

summary | lyney is the face of fontaine’s entertainment industry, stealing hearts with every flourish of his magic. however, in the night, lyney tends to entertain a different kind of crowd.

warnings | written pre-4.0, ooc lyney, light yandere themes (stalking/manipulation/obsession), a sprinkle of smut (creampie/implied dubcon) [18+, MDNI], brief mention of drugs/alcohol, reader is neutral but wears a dress, lyney uses a little french

genre | yandere, slight smut

word count | 1.6k

pairing | lyney x reader

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It’s no mystery that the Great Magician of Fontaine is a man of many talents. His shows are famous across Teyvat for their grandeur and flare. Beautiful venues draped in red curtains frame the scene before a sea of velvety theater seats, skilled acrobats maneuver themselves among rings suspended in the air. Blazes of fire erupt from the stage dramatically. A master of misdirection, the audience falls for his tricks every time as he effortlessly makes the impossible possible.

Lyney is incredibly perceptive. He knows how to read people, as a showman can read his audience, a small smug smile crinkling the corner of his eyes if you’re paying attention. It’s an art form—the way he flips through the pages of your soul, licking his fingers to reveal the next juicy detail with ease. Rarely ever does anyone truly surprise someone as cynical as him, who has been personally privy to the vile nature of the Fatui.

A life of fame is never kind to anyone. The planning and training for shows is incredibly rigorous. Executing the stunts in front of a live audience is equally thrilling and terrifying. Without fail, the crowd is mesmerized and the show ends in a shower of roses and marriage proposals. Rinse and repeat. Though, this is only what Lyney allows the public to know of him.

It’s after hours, when the theater is empty and the stage is dim, when the mask begins to slip.

Lyney is the lead, the star, and as such he maintains his appearance by rubbing elbows with the elite of Fontaine. You’d never catch him amid the nightlife of the city, no. You wouldn’t believe the sheer grandeur of the dazzling, flamboyant parties thrown every night at the country’s largest mansions.

It was Arlecchino who insisted that he attends these lavish parties, rampant with the city’s darkest vices between drugs, alcohol, and sex. But Lyney is a cynical man, so this much is to be expected of wealthy aristocrats.

It was all a façade, couldn’t they see? It sickened him, how gullible people were and how obsessed they were with status. Not to mention the inevitable hordes of women who threw themselves at him.

Nevertheless, Lyney played the game well and with a bewitching, handsome smile. Eventually he had learned to take pleasure in this little game.

As fate would have it, you let your friend convince you to crash one of these extravagant parties with them. You had heard whispers of what takes place at night behind the golden gates of Fontaine’s richest residences. Why wouldn’t you want to have a taste of the finest wine, dressed in designer, getting lost in the magnificent corridors of a packed mansion of partygoers?

It’s something straight from the movies.

You emerged from the bushes to sneak inside, which wasn’t that difficult surprisingly. You wore your best dress, not knowing what to expect. It was a floor length, silky black dress with a sexy slit that traveled all the way up to your mid-thigh. You had a lovely string of pearls dangling from your pretty neck. A classic choice.

Unfortunately for you, Lyney is a man who is extremely attentive to his surroundings. After all, an illusionist must be a master of his environment as well. The moment he spots you, a mere reflection of something new and fascinating for him to discover, he gravitates to you smoothly.

“Mm, I don’t believe we’ve met,” his voice is an alluring, a well-practiced approach. Before you could even answer, Lyney had already taken note of your little mannerisms and nuances just in these few passing moments. He had already adjusted the figurative mirrors of misdirection in this little trick, assuring your undivided attention.

You glance to your friend, who isn’t there. Oh. You had been cornered without even the opportunity to explore the party.

More of a wallflower type, you found yourself struggling to conjure up a confident answer. You were acutely aware of who this gentleman is, and his egotistical demeanor was already a huge turn off.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am,” he chuckled lightheartedly, yet there was a peculiar undertone hidden beneath. It was hard to place. He kisses your hand. “Lyney, the Great Magician.”

You withdrew your hand, unable to hide the way your eyebrows crinkled together with disinterest. Perhaps you should’ve been more prepared for these guests to be more brazen and unapologetic when they see something—or someone—they want.

Taking no for an answer is not even in the realm of possibility for these people.

The party continued on, gorgeous partygoers dancing and drinking to their heart’s content. All the while, Lyney kept his eyes trained on you. It wasn’t necessarily out of admiration; rather, it was curiosity. Why didn’t you bat your eyelashes at him like a good girl? Bite your lip when he kissed your hand?

He followed you like a ghost, slinking through the crowd tactfully to observe you. You were a rare creature indeed. None of the other women could hold a candle to you. Archons, he felt this unsettling churning in his stomach everyone your glimmering irises met his. His heart would tense instantaneously, threatening to explode within his chest.

You saw through Lyney from the moment he kissed your hand, and he hated it.

Through the night, you both danced this delicate tango around the massive mansion, a palpable tension tethering him to you. He was equally appalled and fascinated by you, never wasting any opportunity to slip in an innocent question or two to learn about you.

“A beautiful lady like you in a place like this… Do you feel lost in Wonderland yet, Alice?” Lyney had persuaded you to follow him to an unoccupied balcony, closing the French doors behind him.

He stalks toward you, his soft lavender irises cool and calculated. In an ashy flourish of embers, a deck of onyx cards materialized in his gloved hands. It had taken all evening, but just enough wine had passed beyond your lips to give Lyney the opportunity to disarm you.

“Not scared of a little fire, are you, love?” His voice was warm and inviting as a hearth, though it held a hint of mischief like that of a crackling inferno. Each mysterious card in his hand is shuffled with a distinct flick.

You were much more susceptible to his charm now more than ever, allowing him to weave glittering silk strands of harmless sweet nothings to entice you. Had you taken a step back, you would’ve seen the web for what it is. The grand reveal was imminent.

“Now, now, don’t fret. I won’t let anything harm you, chérie,” Lyney chuckles lightheartedly, as if he hadn’t been playing and pawing at you like a cat ready to pounce all night.

Your poor little breath hitched at every whisper and touch he gifted you. It started by fatefully picking the Queen of Hearts from his custom deck of cards. You should’ve known better. Maybe you should’ve picked the one next to it. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.

Lyney’s lilac eyes spark with intrigue at your choice. How fitting. Had you paid any attention to the magician’s sneaky maneuvers, you would have seen that every card in the deck was from the suite of Hearts.

The illusion of choice.

He takes this as an opportunity to step closer, his hands reaching forward. Your chest is beating wildly, begging for relief from how he intoxicates you with just a flutter of his long lashes.

Lyney rests his hands on the marble railing on either side of your hips, drinking in your anticipation, your fear, and your desire. A small, smug smirk pulls at the corner of his pretty lips. He takes the liberty of helping you meet his gaze by bringing his wrist to his mouth, white teeth tugging to remove his glove. Your body feels weightless when he lifts your chin with his bare index finger and thumb.

The Great Magician would argue that he took extreme precautions to ensure the success of this escapade. It was all carefully calculated and orchestrated according to his whim. He had you exactly where he wanted you, blissfully unaware of how deep these exhilarating feelings for you had rooted themselves into his guarded heart.

“Do you feel the magic in my fingertips? Hehe, tonight’s show will be a private event for only for you, mon trésor.”

The night was a blur. Fading in and out of consciousness, one moment you were dancing with him in empty halls and the next you were enveloped in his embrace against a wall. Lyney would pin your hands above your head before pushing you onto the bed, catapulting you into his next breathtaking trick like one of the acrobats in his show.

The silhouettes of your frames were shadowed in the moonlight that bathed the sheets in silver. Lyney skillfully unzipped your dress. Clothes fell to the wayside, vanishing in a flourish of passion. There was no denying it. He had to have you, and you were such a willing participant in his performance.

Of course, the wealthy partygoers were none the wiser, the echoes of pleasure the Great Magician was able to rip from your lungs were easily deafened by the music of their own opulent fantasies.

What is a magician if not an artist who must mark what is rightfully his—painting your womb with a decadent display, a growl escaping his throat.

However, Lyney is a perfectionist. When he catches a glimpse of his seed spilling out of you, he is quick to stuff his slender fingers into your overstimulated hole and seal the masterpiece with a final kiss on your bruised lips.

“Magnifique…” ❤️

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

[thearchercore]

charles is a PR genius. and here's how he's trying to slowly rebrand his persona to strenghten his personal brand:

recently, especially after the triple header, you could notice charles had a period of time when he distanced himself from ferrari and clearly changed his public statements about his goals. he went from saying he wants to win with ferrari to saying that at his core, he just wants to win. and that he would leave ferrari if he didn't believe the project.

he also changed the way he communicated with fans, through social media. you can notice the change of wording in his post descriptions:

both posts are from the same year, but the wording is now different. he refused to use the ferrari branding and stopped using the typical ferrari-PR wording he was conditioned to use.

fast forward, he started interracting with ferrari by abu dhabi and seemed to be finally happy with the direction the team was taking. however, he still managed to build something from this anti-ferrari period -- the slow rebrand from being "charles, the ferrari driver" to "charles, the f1 driver".

charles is slowly, but surely working to increase the value of his personal brand to possibly gain more negotiating power, and other bonuses that come with having a strong personal brand not tied to any team in particular.

in general, the goal would be to outgrow the team so you are known as an individual athlete, not just someone who drives for the particular team and has their identity tied to the team only.

he also signed with WME for advertisement purposes, he started wearing his personal clothing brand CLACE again after ferrari banned him to do so. he clearly regained more confidence in what he can do as an athlete within the contract (that's usually very limiting from ferrari's pov).

how does he otherwise work on his personal brand? relatability. charles is a gen z child first and foremost, he knows parasocial relationships play a huge role on social media. he works on side personal projects like the LA vlog -- the vlog that had little to do with racing but still showed charles completely SUCK at basketball.

why would you include it, you may ask? it makes him relatable, it makes his personality more interersting. more fun.

his first public post from winter training then was him falling

why did he post that? well, a) he's a silly guy. but more importantly, b) he's not crafting up a perfect PR image, he's aiming for being relatable, showcasing more of his personality. he wants to stand out as an individual in the sea of other f1 drivers who posted more pre-planned content during their winter training.

in the LA vlog he also left in a little dig at carlos. why? because he can. he also used his twitter likes to like controversial things that ferrari wouldn't let him say. he very much knows how to navigate online spaces and how to create more boundaries between his personal brand and the ferrari brand.

additionally, he also now hangs out with people like max publicly even if they don't benefit the ferrari brand. max, in general, isn't liked by the tifosi or ferrari in general. but charles still makes sure to hang out with him on track and outside of it, once again, securing his personal brand and not pushing something that ferrari would prefer.

it's all very interesting to watch, seeing how carefully he's rebuilding his public image and how he communicates on social media with the world.

[r0-boat]

Love your work I just read your poly wrio neuvi a/b/o with reader and it was so good! Could we get a part two of more information? Like what is it like when readers in heat or when wrio has his rut. Your writing is ❤️❤️

Yes I can totally do a part two!

Alpha Wriothesley x omega reader x alpha Neuvillette headcannons part 2

Nsfw

Author's notes:

I usually try not to give reader too much headcanons because I want to leave just enough wiggle room for you guys to imagine your own scenarios but in this one ill add more

Wriothesley does behave(ish)during his ruts. That doesn't mean he wants to, though... If anything he just gets more possessive and touchy. However when you are the overseer and warden of an entire prison you have to at least keep yourself sane till the end of your shift.

Wriothesley The first thing he does when he gets home is rip off your clothes. His hunger for sex is unlimited always down to fuck Even when he's buried in paperwork.(maybe that's the reason why his ruts aren't that bad? Or maybe he's just good at hiding it ;) )

Wriothesley is an alpha and seems dominant, but he likes being a pillow princess. He likes laying down and having you play with him till he's had enough, then he flips you over and takes control.

While Neuvillette smells like rainwater in a forest, Wriothesley smells like the sea with a hint of a floral sense of whatever tea he had that day mixed with his cologne. And he is shameful about presenting his scent as powerful and prideful; he does not use scent blockers at all. He's a prideful Alpha and likes presenting even more so now that he knows that even Neuvillette turns his head to it.

Wriothesley's scent blends so well with the sea water and the fortress that the only ones who can successfully pick it out are the inmates and his partners, while he lays undetected by outsiders as long as he's in the fortress that is. He does not mind his powerful scent in fact he prefers it. Keeps people obedient, not wanting to do stupid shit. As soon as they smell him coming around, They immediately straighten out their backs and cower.

They will never know how much of a sweetheart your partner actually is.

And then there's you. During your heat You are the only one that can sedate Wriothesley's large sexual appetite and still come your other partner for more. Bratty yet obedient just the way Wriothesley likes it.

Though he cannot help but joke about how good and obedient you are with Neuvillette and not him. Which Neuvillette is quick too crack a smile and say "You just need to train them better."

And when your heat strikes, you're even more unsatiable. But that's probably because your heat's hurt so damn much that you could hardly even think. Well, it's good thing You're two partners like it a little rougher. Your heat's hit you like a train. Once you can feel your pre-heat, you only have a matter of time before it hits you. The next day, He will be feeling whimpering and pulling while trying to give one of your partners a surprise awakening.

Your body is super hot yet cold screaming at you too seek the warmth of your partners. And how busy they can be the only thing that can sedate you or toys until one of them gets home. And when they do... You will rejoice in the dicking you will receive.

Neuvillette has tried to urge you to take suppressants because he hates seeing you hot and writhing, almost in pain. But he understands when you say no because after suppressants, it will just get worse.

Your scent is a calming lavender. You're like catnip to your overworked partners rubbing against you and bearing their face in your neck, holding you close. You can practically hear them purring like kittens. It's cute until you are being crushed by two big men who haven't slept in days.

[loganwritesprobably]

Hello☺️,

I have a combo for you.

Charakter: Benn Beckmann x (shy)Fem Reader

Setting: Hurt/comfort

Prompt: p: "Can you stay here with me tonight?" and/or d: "I'll still be here when you wake up."

Maybe something like sleepless nights with nightmares?

But I'll leave that to you

Thank you

It's a classic, but there's nothing wrong with classics! A nice easy trope with a loveable man. Hope you enjoy love!

Content/Warnings: Benn/F!Reader, Shy!Reader, hurt/comfort, nightmares, fluff, pining, pre-slash, past parental death, heavily implied the deceased parent had dementia/alzheimers

You were an interesting character on the crew. The only woman, and a strikingly different personality. Everyone on the ship was self-assured, loud mouthed, a party-goer – except you. You were more shy, liked to keep to yourself, would sooner remain on the edges of a party to observe or even stay home. But, the thing that'd gotten you a place on the crew was that just like them you were an incredible fighter. You were a swordswoman, and a well trained one, and in battle all of your reserved personality disappeared to be replaced with that of a confident fighter, knowing that she'd make all the correct moves at the right moment and flawlessly survive.

After a fight was over, you'd return to your usual self, and it was a difference that the crew used to marvel at but was now just normal. You'd leave and wash up, rejoining them as the shy girl they knew and loved. And if you wished a particular crew member loved you in a slightly different way then that was your business. Well, and the business of your best friend on board Limejuice, but that was neither here nor there.

You were a good fighter because your upbringing had been, well, interesting to use a kind word. Your father had been an unusual character, who'd insisted on keeping you trained. At first, it had been to protect yourself but as he grew older the reason became to protect him. He'd become violent as he aged and forgot you, and it hurt you that you couldn't protect him like he'd wanted - there was no way to protect him from himself. He died after a few years of slowly losing his memories and his sense of self, and you'd left for the sea after that.

Sometimes you thought of your father, even after all these years, and it saddened you to know that there was nothing you could've done for him. You'd raise a glass to him while the crew cheered and laughed, and you'd drink in his name. But sometimes, you remembered him in your dreams.

For the most part the dreams were positive, of times past, when you were a young girl getting dirty while climbing trees or digging in the dirt for treasure and he would come and scoop you up in his arms to take you to dinner. He'd cherished you, like your mother would've wanted. Every now and then however, you'd dream of the later parts of his life, when he began to forget and it hurt like hell.

On this particular night, you'd accidentally fallen asleep at the edge of the deck while the crew played cards late into the night, with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and your head in your arms on a table. It wasn't the most comfortable but you'd had a long few days.

Your dreams were not kind. You dreamt of your father, and at first it had been nice. You were a little girl again, playing hopscotch outside the house with the boy from down the street. Then your father emerged from the house confused and suddenly you aged fifteen years, the way you did in dreams, and you were an adult managing your father's sickness alone. He was angry, accusing you of trying to kill him with the meal you'd made, and he leapt at you, desperately trying to claw at your skin to kill you before you killed him.

You woke with a start to a hand on your shoulder and concerned eyes looking down at you. You gulped down air desperately, trying to steady yourself and slow your rapidly beating heart. Benn was there though, watching over you while you calmed, waiting for you to be ready to speak. "You okay?" He asked softly a few minutes later, when you were breathing normally and the pulse he could feel under his fingertips had slowed. "Bad dream. I'm alright." You assured him with a quick nod. He took a step back and offered you his arm with a charming smile. "Let me escort you to your room?" He offered, and you could only laugh softly and agree.

Benn led you to your room, both of you content with the silence. You didn't need to speak. He followed you into your room and made sure that you got into bed okay, his own anxiety pooling in his stomach. He worried about you, sometimes. "I'll still be here when you wake up, just across the hall. You can come find me if you need me." He offered, hand on the doorknob, already in the doorframe ready to leave. You hesitated for a moment, panic flooding through you again - you weren't sure you could be alone. "Wait-" You said quickly, sitting bolt upright just before the door could close. Benn reopened the door all the way, concern having returned to his expression.

"Sorry I just- I don't think I can be alone right now. Could you.. stay here tonight, maybe?" You asked nervously, voice so soft it could barely be heard. But Benn heard your request as if you'd yelled it, because he heard everything that you said, never needing you to repeat yourself. He nodded and re-entered the room, closing the door behind himself. "Move over then." Benn said with an easy smile, and when you did, he slipped into the bed behind you, easily pulling the blanket over himself. He didn't hold you because ultimately you were just friends still. But, when you fell asleep and shifted to lay on his chest, Benn kept himself awake for just a little while to enjoy the taste of what it would be like if you were his.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf

[opal-owl-flight]

I absolutely adore your agent lore SO MUCH it feels really canon to me, just in a darker and realistic way!!

I am kind of wondering what your thoughts are on octavio, especially in this verse- if you have any of course LMAO 👍 so fair if you don't he just lives in my braincells rent free.

"You. Were not so different, you and I."

"|Shut. Up. Dont compare yourself to me. I did everything for this fragile world. A world you yourself almost destroyed twice.|"

"Aah, so did I, young squid. So did I."

3 rounds on the imprisoned geezer. Some thanks he got, after saving the world. The Captain was almost as bad as their old superior.

He only crosses his arms tighter as they clacked their beak.

"|The destruction of my world does not justify yours' survival.|"

Theres a dry chuckle from within the glass globe.

"Which world has the zapfishes. Which world is close to the sky? Which world allows everyone to...act the way you do. That annoyingly fresh attitude that just rubs in our face how much better you have it."

3s looking more unsure now, their hands clasping tight on their arms whenever theyre not signing. Thats a surprise.

"Mm. Do you understand, agent?"

The hesitance disappears, and their eyes and spots glint threateningly. "|Im the Captain now, and I will prefer to be referred to as such.|"

The king rolls his eyes. Mocks a salute.

"Stuffy kid. Damn. Alright, Captain.

Let me illuminate it a little more clearly for you.

You train your agents to keep my people underground. Sometimes, to the point of breaking their spirit. Because you want to keep them safe -- from me, from my troops, from anything the rough seas can throw at em. Right?"

"|I dont do it like you do. Hypnosis? Mind control? Eight ran away because of that!|"

"Who told you I used that on my entire nation? Damn old fool, that Craig.

As for your "Agent Eight"...

that one...

...had her reasons.

I hold no ill will towards her, or the others, for running.

In fact, I dont blame them one bit."

3 squints.

"They wanted a life that I cannot provide.

Its hard, underground. Constant energy crisis. Constant food shortage. Constant resource depletion. Who would stay? Except those who want to make it a better world to live in?

And you, Captain. What would you do in my place?"

And they stay quiet...

Before their voice rasps through a low hiss.

"Act...in a way... you wont."

"Hoh! So you can speak! Impressive.

But you know youd do similar. Ive heard how much Agent 4 hates your guts. Its not as easy being a leader, isnt it."

3 hisses louder, balling their fists.

"I...am not...you."*

"Yes. You. Are." The king presses his tentacles on the glass. "I did all I did for my fragile world. I continue to run my nation the way I do so everyone stays safe from the danger YOU bring. You and the REST of your nation. My troops are family. My troops are all Ive got."

He casts a glance at 4 (pre-Captain my Captain), who was approaching for her training.

"Even if they end up hating me."*

3 catches 4s gaze.

"Even if they end up deserting."

4 turns her gaze away, to look directly at Octavio.

"Do you understand?"

Now its 3 who looks, understanding dawning in their eyes.

Hes right.

"I must do what I need to, even if it hurts me. Id risk my life, my honor, my everything, for my people.

If I dont, who else will?"

3 thinks of the times theyd swooped in to save the newly returned 4 from hazards in the newer missions. The verbal and physical abuse from her beak and fists. The way they had to give her easier missions despite saying that it was tougher, just so shed have a more gradual growth. Have higher chances of surviving. Even if...underhanded.

4 herself breaks the silence, and their train of thought.

"Talking to the damn geezer again, Captain?"

"|He spoke first.

...but he makes good points.|"

"You cant seriously- hey. HEY! CAPTAIN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!"

theres a loud crash.

"|I dont think it fair to keep him here after he helped us save the world.|"

"Hohohoh! You are not so bad, Captain."

"GRAMPS IS GOING TO KILL YOU."

"Hah! No he wont. I know your old man. And for once in his life, he actually made a good call.

Captain.

Agent Three."

The mention of their old number, to refer to them, almost made tears spring to their eyes.

Almost.

After all, this was the reason they were dragged into this mess. But can they really keep blaming him for all this, after all this time?

Octavio shows...a hint of a smile.

"You make a fine protege for the man I used to know.

Keep it up."

3 holds 4 back from rushing the Octarian leader. "Go...back. Take care...of your people."

"Aye aye. Heheh. So long, suckers!!!"

And he was gone.

[anarchywoofwoof]

yesterday, november 18 2023 was the first day in recorded history where the global 2m surface temperature exceeded 2 degrees Celsius above the 1850-1900 baseline.

the 1850-1900 period serves as a baseline for the intergovernmental panel on climate change (ipcc) primarily because it represents the pre-industrial era, just before the widespread industrialization that began in the late 19th century.

this era is important for understanding the effects of climate change because it provides a relatively stable reference point for the earth's climate system before human activities - particularly the burning of fossil fuels - began to significantly alter the composition of earth's atmosphere. therefore, this period offers some of the earliest reliable meteorological data, allowing scientists to establish a baseline climate against which current and future changes can be compared.

the last time it was close to this hot was +1.99°C above the baseline, on Feb. 28, 2016 during hottest part of El Nino

yesterday, the value was +2.01°C before the hottest part of El Nino.

the 2°C threshold is widely regarded as a critical limit beyond which climate change impacts become increasingly severe and potentially irreversible. this includes increasing extreme weather events, over time a 40~ foot sea-level rise, and massive loss of biodiversity. some of which we are seeing take place before our eyes right now, every single day. all of these headlines are from this year alone:

Ocean scientists concerned over uptick of whale deaths on Northeast coasts

Penguin Chicks Are Dying Off as Antarctic Sea Ice Disappears

More than 10 billion snow crabs starved to death off the coast of Alaska. But why?

Texas oysters in dire straits

Tens of Thousands of Dead Fish Wash Ashore on Gulf Coast in Texas

Drone footage shows millions of dead fish blanket river

Mass death of Amazonian dolphins prompts fears for vulnerable species

‘Crisis period': Dead or dying marine mammals increasingly washing up on SoCal beaches

bear in mind that this is because we're already seeing a near-average of 1.5°c warming this year. this was not expected until the year 2050. like.. it's happening now.

the 1.5°c warming threshold, which is often discussed alongside the 2°c threshold, holds its own significance in the context of climate change and the efforts to mitigate its impacts. this threshold was brought into prominence by the paris agreement, which aimed to limit global warming to well below 2°c, preferably to 1.5°c, compared to pre-industrial levels.

we have effectively blown past this barricade and are barreling toward another. the capitalist train is leaving the tracks and taking us with it.

[rahuratna]

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 5

Contents: pre-relationship headcanons, slow burn, pining, humour

By the time you both leave the cafe, the streetlights have come on and the wind births small eddies, their burden of leaves swirling in dusty corners. You haven't nearly exhausted all the things you want to say to him, but something about this quiet walk home sparks something reverential in you. So, you'll let the evening spin a web of secrets around you, for now. It feels better to keep it that way.

Nanami stays close to you, his eyes trained on the pavement. His manner, so hard for you to read just a few months ago, is now familiar enough that you can see he is experiencing some internal struggle. You close your eyes momentarily, as you know full well what he must be considering.

Taking a small breath, you point out the car that he had called earlier. It is parked at the kerb, sleek, gleaming and slightly threatening in the dim light. You don't want to slip into the cool interior just yet, away from the inexplicable lightness being close to him brings. He stops abruptly, some distance still between the both of you and the car.

"Are you cold?"

"No. Not now."

You don't mean for the words to sound quite like they do. Nanami is silent before checking his watch and clearing his throat.

"I suppose our evening together ends here."

"We're still traveling in the same car."

He catches your teasing smile and raises an eyebrow.

"I suppose you're right. However, there's something I'd like to ask before we go."

"And that is?"

"Whether you'd like to visit another cafe with me next week."

The words come out of his mouth with uncharacteristic stiffness, slightly rushed. He eyes you as if from behind a shield composed of finest steel, a hint of longing hidden well beneath.

"I would certainly like that."

His shoulders drop slightly.

"You would?"

"You sound surprised."

"It's only polite to ask, of course."

"So you knew what my answer would be, for sure? Is that what you're saying?"

"Well, no -"

He clamps his lips together tightly and you laugh softly, taking a step towards him beneath the unsteady light of the old streetlamp. Something about how the tables seem to have turned in the past few minutes emboldens you.

"What about the time after that?"

"You've already decided then?"

"Should I not?"

"Well, what if it turns out that you don't actually like my company."

"I don't think there's any danger of that."

"What if I - " he paused and considers the car ahead of you, the corners of his eyes tight. "What if ... work gets in the way?"

You suddenly feel as if you're both standing on the deck of a flimsy raft in a turbulent sea. All the softness, the sweetness, the hushed longing of that afternoon, seems awfully fragile under the impending wave of his own pragmatism. Feeling the wind pick up around you, catching at your hair, you are fully aware of how tenderly you are looking at him. If you don't speak now, you would regret it later.

"You know, today I thought a lot about how simple our meal was. Just a few things, put together. I ... think I like simplicity. No, I always have. Good food can give you temporary comfort. You know what I mean. When you're exhausted and drained and want to forget everything else, there's something warm and inviting, that's waiting just for you."

He is silent, but in a way that lets you know he is taking in every word you say.

"And often, I don't know what tomorrow may hold. I think ... that sorcerers like you must feel that even more keenly. But even if I don't know, I still have some consistency in my day. I know that I have something small to look forward to, something that fills me and gives me strength."

You meet his gaze, pushing the words out before your burst of courage deserts you entirely.

"So, what I mean to say is, don't think too much about what may happen at work tomorrow, or the day after. If we have to re-schedule, that will be fine. Because ... I do enjoy your company and I hope you enjoy mine. And it's that simple for me."

Your words have almost failed you this time, but you stand there, holding your ground, willing him to understand what you're trying to convey. He looks back at you, and this time, the raw emotion, the hesitancy, the desire to do the right thing, is so evident in his eyes.

You think of the name he mentioned, the friend he had spoken of in the past tense. You knew, on some level, that this was something only Nanami could decide, no matter how badly you wanted more.

When you smile at him, there is no pain there. There is, instead, a soft blossoming in your chest that whispers your answer to you; that you can only ever want this man to be as comfortable and as happy as he could be. Nanami watches your lips, and then your eyes and he is drinking you in, as if he has seen something he can barely comprehend.

"Nanami, it's getting cold out here. Let's head in. You can message me if you want to go somewhere else soon."

You pat his sleeve lightly, the spell that has woven itself around the two of you evaporating, leaving traces of something solid and steadfast. As you turn to head to the car, his voice arrests you.

"Kento."

"Pardon?"

"Please refer to me as Kento from now on."

"Oh."

In spite of everything that's passed between you two today, it's this, of all things, that brings your mind to a shuddering halt.

"Well ... then it's only fitting that you call me ... "

When he says your name, cutting you off before you finish, you stare at him. Now your heart feels as if it has ceased to function entirely. Nanami, no, Kento, steps forward and past you, drawing you along in his wake. His voice holds something new, a different quality of warmth.

"Thank you for today. I'll find a good place for us to visit next time."

When he leans forward to open the door for you, his breath mingles with yours, and you think that you can almost taste the soft exhalation.

You feel unaccountably restless over the next few days. When you're at home, your hands are always occupied with something, whether cooking, cleaning or simply fidgeting with the corner of the blankets as you fail to fall asleep. Your mind is racing a mile a minute and shows no sign of slowing down. You wish your own thoughts would allow you a moment of rest.

Now, you know. You can finally shove open that mental door, even though the splinters catch in your skin and leave you raw and delirious.

He does feel ... something. He may even feel the same way, the same intense passion and longing. How can you even process this development? In all the years of your adult life, you have never experienced something like this. This is so much more than the obsessive quality of first love, so much more than a workplace crush, which you have certainly experienced before.

Why? Why did humans have to feel so intensely, to the point that it hurt, as if a javelin molded from purest, scorching sunlight had pierced your chest; an injury that had left you bleeding a viscous, golden ichor that you wanted to collect in your palms and pour over your joined bodies?

Ironically, what gives you a sense of stillness and serenity is the image of him you have committed to memory in that shining time. The smooth planes of his suit, the way the burnished collar pins caught and reflected the light against the clearcut lines of his jaw and neck. The small traces of shadow under each eye. The way he paid attention to how he occupied space, the natural strength and grace with which he moved. You can recall clearly the way his honeyed gaze caught and held yours, as if there was no shame in such an intimate glance, his darker lashes painting soft shadows against his cheeks in the afternoon sun. The hint of faint freckles on the backs of his hands.

It's when you allow yourself to move on from that image, when you remember that you'll have many more such images of him to refer to in your mind's eye (possibly), that the vicious cycle of restlessness returns.

The weekend arrives and you have plans. Plans to stay in and indulge in ordering takeout and catching up on your reading. The weather forecast promises rain and cold weather, something you don't particularly mind.

The last few days have been stressful. A large-scale exorcism of cursed spirits in an underground shopping centre had taken place and several younger sorcerers had sustained injuries. Fortunately, there had been no fatalities. You had been in charge of organizing the paperwork for their medical treatment.

As you return from a short run to the grocery store, rivulets of water pouring from the creases of your umbrella and raincoat onto the entryway floor, you notice a message notification silently awaiting your attention. The way your stomach clenches with pleasant anticipation tells you just how spoiled you have become. Expecting a message from the man who occupies your thoughts endlessly is certainly something that wouldn't have crossed your mind before. He has sent a simple question.

"Are you busy?"

Wait, what? Surely, he wouldn't want to meet in this kind of weather?

Shaking your head to clear it, you answer.

"Yes. Just got back home from the store."

His reply comes shortly after.

"Is it all right if I give you a call in a short while?"

"Sure."

Well, this was a new development. You hurriedly put the groceries away, wondering what he wanted to speak about. Within fifteen minutes, your phone rings. Towelling off your damp hair, you perch on the sofa in front of your space heater.

"Kento?"

There is silence on the other end.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

"Ah, I can hear you just fine."

His voice pours into your ear like soft, mellow hickory smoke. You hadn't realised how much you'd desired to hear it again, until now.

"How are you doing? Were you deployed on that mission a few days ago?"

"Yes, I oversaw a few exorcisms. I heard there were several injuries in the other locations."

"Nothing serious, thankfully. Was Yuuji with you?"

"No. He was out with Gojo on a different task." He pauses. "I didn't call you to talk about work."

You can't control the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

"Oh?"

"No. I wanted to know how your weekend is going."

"Very slowly. Just the way I like it."

"Just wait until Sunday."

You laugh at his foreboding tone. 

"Speaking from experience?"

"Yes. There's a strange warping effect on Sunday evenings. Like some kind of hiccup in the space-time continuum that makes those last few hours of freedom vanish into thin air."

"Haven't you found a remedy for that yet?"

"Have you?"

"Yes, actually. I have a Sunday evening self-care routine that drags the time out forever."

"I'm not too familiar with self-care."

"I can tell."

"Do you admire my resilience?"

"Not really."

"How harsh."

"Listen, if you've never felt the scrape of a good exfoliator or inhaled the scent of jasmine tea while massaging essential oils into your skin, you haven't really lived, Kento."

"I don't particularly trust essential oils."

"Oh no. Have they offended you?"

"Terribly. I once fought a cursed user who smelt as if he'd bathed in peppermint oil."

"Ugh. Hardly blame you then. How about you come up with something that involves no herbal remedies?"

The silence on the other end is longer this time, and when he speaks, the softness in his tone sends a spear of heat straight down through the core of you.

"I think I've found a good distraction."

Somehow, you're able to reply.

"I thought I said you should find something that involves no herbal remedies."

"Are you going to force feed me peppermint oil?"

"Possibly."

He waits for a while before answering, and when he does, his tone carries more weight.

"There's something you said, the day we had supper together. I wanted to tell you my thoughts on that."

You're silent, nervous. Had you spoken too brazenly that day?

"You said that you liked simplicity. That temporary comforts could bring happiness and make us feel better."

"I did."

"Hmm. My thoughts on that are ... conflicted. On the one hand, I agree. Small comforts are important in our lives. I like simplicity too. But what are small comforts without meaning behind them? I want to give all of my actions meaning, so that there can be no mistaking their purpose."

"What is your purpose, Kento?"

He doesn't hesitate this time.

"I want to spend more time with you. More than the occasional lunch. I want to know more about you, and I want you to know me. In a way that's more than a temporary comfort. It's not about what's proper. It's about what's right. I think you know by now that I don't take half-measures when it comes to things that are ... meaningful to me."

The straightforward quality of his words is like a nail pinning down the elusive nature of that dance you both have been conducting up until now. You almost lose the ability to speak, one hand clutching the arm of the sofa hard. There is an uncontrollable feeling, like hysteria, but not quite, rising in your chest. You hope that your voice isn't as hoarse with emotion as it sounds to you.

"I want to know you too, Kento. That would mean a great deal to me."

His relief is palpable.

"Then that's what we'll do from now on."

There is another pause, but this one is different. It's full of promise, a breath taken before diving deeper than either of you have before. Surprisingly, you find that you're the first one to break it.

"Want to start by telling me something about yourself? Something that I definitely don't know?"

"Hmm. I actually like the ridiculous hat that Yuuji bought me at the fair. The one we visited the other week."

"I asked you to tell me something that I don't know."

"You could tell that I liked it?"

"Kento, you showed it off to Gojo. And you enjoyed telling him that it was a limited edition just to see how disappointed you could make him."

"You're describing some kind of sadist."

"Yes. I'm describing you."

"Ah, very well. Here's something you're definitely not aware of."

"Well?"

"I like the way you say my name."

This absolute devil. For such a proper man, he certainly knew how leave you tongue-tied and flustered.

"Do you think if I say it often enough, the effect might wear off?"

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound.

"I suppose we'll have to test that theory."

@tsukimefuku @kentocalls @g-kleran @actuallysaiyan

[undercover-smutlover]

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley…💀

main masterlist📌

*·˚Don’t forget to reblog, follow, like, and comment on the authors’ or artists’ pages. Show them some love!

*·˚Broken link or @? Pop a note in the comments or my ask box.

Works by @ghostsareeverywhereblah2

Guard Dogs Pt.1: “He’s even cuter in person”

Guard Dogs Pt.2: “She’s always listened, just not to you”

The Progeny Series: “Shit, Lt. Looks like you actually have a real admirer”

Grumpy x Sunshine: Who in the world can be in a relationship with Simon?

Works by @lethalchiralium

Delicate + König: You were glad you had them both, satisfying your needs

Raindrops: He’s trying to remember every moment

Works by @ghosts-cyphera

Bloodied Bullets, Soft Confessions: “I guess I’d been lucky so far.”

Pornstar Ghost:  All genuine, from both of you

Works by @peachesofteal

Dead Disco: The one that’s always left behind

Light On: Simon has a new neighbor

Through Me (The Flood): Still, even in this moment, you leave him breathless

Works by @lvrxly

Singledad!Ghost: "Eh, I kinda like your son more than you, he's less broody," You tease

An Odd Feeling:

Works by @chaosandmarigolds

Among the Bullets Ch.1 Pt.1, Ch.1 Pt.2, Ch.2 Pt.1 , Ch.2 Pt.2: “Adrenaline makes the body do some pretty insane things, sir.”

Pre-K Universe

Works by @tojisun

My Baby Swinging: Simon and his pretty little sweetheart’s adventures

The Apple that rolled over to The Tree

It Takes A Rampage (to be a dad)

HockeyPlayer!Simon

Works by @bi-writes

Final Girl

Pregnant!Reader Snapping at Simon

Clean Up Call

Works by @writersdrug

Training For Two

Tea and Cigarettes

Works by @halcyone-of-the-sea

Sole Survivor: “Who’s the guy with the mohawk?”

Digging Gaze: But he was afraid, as well. Terrified

Three Is A Crowd by @xyziiix: Well your Captain always like proving you wrong

Cherry by @barefoothighlander: Ghost finds out about your side gig

The Captain by @as-is-above-so-below: Ghost’s wife joins the team on an op agaisnt his wishes

Bleeding Out Pt.1, Bleeding Out Pt.2 and Bleeding Out Pt.3 by @constantcrisis19: A bomb almost levels the entire town. Ghost extracts you.

Oneshots & Multichapter and Price’s Birthday by @rileyslibrary: An entire collection of Simon Riley oneshots

The Things I Never Said Pt.1 and The Things I Never Said Pt.2 by @lvlyghost: When the inevitable happens, you run

Ghost in the Austrian Asylum by @prazinos: The two of you want him as well

Painless Bruises by @tacticaldiary: Avoiding Simon’s gaze is harder than it’s ever been

The Experiments by @diaryofanidiot: Forced to fight and claw her way to live

The Accused by @amoristt: You fucking ran. What choice did you have?

Badges of Honor by @clairdelunelove: Ghost always recieves the biggest stickers

King!Ghost x Princess!Reader by @hyperactively-me: Stubborn Princess who warms up to the King

Ghost x Civillian Masterlist by @sim0nril3y: How he met his civillian and fell in love

The Twins by @princessdimondheart: He saw his own eyes

How many fingers am I holding up by @sprout-fics: “Don’t hate me for this, Si.” You think weakly

Lime-Sized by @imperihoe-writes: Sighing happily, she wiggled a bit deeper into his embrace

Bodyguard!Simon x Popstar!Reader by @xo-cod: Simon looks on in pride

Phantom Frost Line by @diejager: You’re a new face, unknown to Ghost and he isn’t too keen about the news

Nothing’s New by @thewriterg: He held you like he always will and as he always had

Unmasked Love by @springtyme: she turns her head to look over at you with an excited expression on her little face

Welcome Home by @babygirl-riley: but when she was around wow, he would make sure everyone knew who she was

Odds On by @bits-and-babs: The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory

His Heart, His Light, His World by @thexsilentxwordsmith: "You deserve it all, Simon. Every once of it."

Unexpected by @dammn-dean: Simon felt a pang of something up his spine, similar to jealousy but close to disappointment in himself.

If Only You Would Have Trusted Me by @ltghosty: That was the only thing that helped you come to peace with the things you were forced to do in order to protect your family.

Husband!Simon by @ahqkas: he didn’t hesitate to scoop the smiling baby up into his arms

Glory Days by @sstormyskyesss: If you weren't focused on calculating the best strategy out of this particular setback, you’d be able to see the stars in Simon’s eyes

Simon Riley Collection by @starstruckmiraclekitty:

Cure For Me [zombie!ghost] by @groguspicklejar:

Who Wants to Live Forever by @writeforfandoms: Then his lips twitched. “Took you long enough.” 

Vegas Wedding by @ceilidho: When he stretches an arm up to scratch his upper back, you almost whimper at the way his arm bulges. 

Secret Haven by @lightwing-s: and the moment his eyes caught yours you could clearly understand his message.

Lovely by @daisies-daydreams: “Even though this isn’t on my finger while I’m at work, I’ll always act like it is,” you reassured him

Homeward Bound AU by @writeforfandoms: You spared a brief thought of thanks that your mother had taught you everything about this job. 

Firefighter!Simon Riley by @thelaisydazy: He loves the ones handed over the counter by the cute worker that smiles at him and fusses over the dog every morning.

Simon’s Favorite Hair by @lovifie: And in that moment, with your hair still in his hand, he knew he was in trouble.

Coffee Shop by @sinkovia: His life was good, and he couldn't ask for more

The Next of Kin by @soapybutt17: Many eyes had lingered on you when they heard your last name

Nurse by @jayybugg: Ghost stayed silent. His eyes stay trained on you, no words or sounds coming from him.

Gold Rush by @midnightarcheress

Soft Spot by @cordeliawhohung

Hatred For You Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5 by @mangowafflesss

Dad!Simon by @tacticalgirlboss

Accidental Sugar Baby Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3 by @brainoutofstock

Special Eye on Singlemom!Reader by @bi-writes

Meeting Single-mom!Reader by @zvdvdlvr

Russian Roulette by @writingangst

No More by @mayflysdie

Footballer Simon by @dante-mightdie

Transferrable Skills by @dragonnarrative-writes

implied fat!reader x bluecollar!simon riley by @drgnflyteabox

Was Warm by @eevee-of-eternity

Ghosting Series Pt.1, Pt.2 by @bittersw33t-lotus

Weird by @fivechapters

Beaded Bracelet by @manicrouge

The Poor Decision by @ceilidho

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[coolnonsenseworld]

(to know more about the story and the calendar on pre-order check out previous posts!)

July is Lance's birthday and they all take him to the sea just to frolic around. They end up doing way too many tricks in the waves and rolling through the sand. When everyone else is busy figuring out if they should wait until sundown to roll out or go back now, Keith and Lance sit by the waves, talking. That’s when Keith takes out a ring. He tells Lance can take it without promising anything, he just thought that for Lance's birthday Keith can offer him being there for him, giving him whatever he needs - and he could keep the ring to remember him by, to be sure he is always accepted and protected by him, that they are each other’s. To make it even less pressuring, it’s not a shiny cute engagement ring, but just a simple one, like promise rings should be. Lance is so touched and surprised, he lacks words and just bulldozes Keith into sand.

"Is it a yes?!" yells Shiro from the sidelines and Keith just "okays" from the ground, before grappling around with Lance.

There is both a dog whistle and a disappointed awwing at their PDA, but their companions just mostly laugh it off. Allura still watches them, shielding her eyes from the sun, before murmuring “they always remind me of the sexual tension between me and an oncoming train.”

Everyone bursts out laughing.

[cauliflowercounty]

In the Stands

Jamie Tartt x Reader

Summary:  Jamie x reader drabble for anon

“Can I request a Jamie Tartt fic based off this TikTok please?”

Warnings: Cussing but if you watch Ted Lasso idk why ur worried about that

Word Count : 1.1K

The Dog Track roars as the Richmond team walk out onto the field to play Tottenham Hotspur for the quarter final of this year’s FA Cup. Jamie surveys the crowd, a sea of red and blue alive with excitement, scarves and flags waving in the crisp air as the team huddles in a pre-game circle. The Richmond faithful's song swells and fills the air.

“We’re Richmond ‘till we die!  We’re Richmond ‘til we die! We know we are, We’re sure we are, We’re Richmond ‘til we die!”

As Isaac shouts out orders for warm up, Jamie can’t help but raise his gaze up to the private boxes. He looks up and smiles to himself, seeing you bundled up in your jacket and gloves next to Keeley, who’s whispering something into your ear.  You push up your Richmond beanie as it almost falls down over your eyes.  Rebecca steps down and takes a seat next to you, handing you and Keeley hot coffees.

Jamie had never expected to date a popstar, much less one that Keeley introduced him to. You’d come into his life unexpectedly. After getting rejected from Lust Conquers All and Man City, he thankfully was able to return to Richmond after Ted changed his mind, but the team had had a difficult time accepting his return. Despite being given the cold shoulder by the team, he still looked forward to coming to the club each day because you were there.

Keeley had brought you on for PR for the club.  She and Rebecca had decided you could write a song about Richmond, which would benefit both parties, and you had just returned to the UK after being away on a North American tour in support of your latest album.  

In order for you to get some inspiration for the song, Keeley and Rebecca asked Ted to let you observe training and attend games, so you could understand the essence and culture of the team, so the song would be truly representative of Richmond. Nate was originally very resistant to the idea, thinking that you would be a distraction to the team, Beard didn’t mind, and Roy was more or less apathetic to the idea, so you were brought onto the team. 

Once Jamie saw you, he knew you were different than anyone else he had known before.  You were creative like Keeley, but you had this air about you that put him at ease. You had shown every person in the club remarkable kindness and seemed genuinely happy to be there, but he had also seemed to catch your eye as well, but Jamie was unsure if that was real or just his imagination.

Overtime, you became universally loved by the whole Richmond team because of your warmth and humor. Day by day, the bond you had formed with the team got stronger and stronger as you traveled with them for matches, hung around the club, celebrated their wins, and mourned their losses. You were all close-knit, but your and Jamie’s relationship was different than the one you had everyone else.  

It all started two weeks after you arrived when you were singing in the locker room after you thought everyone was gone. You'd taken to songwriting after hours after everyone was gone in order to soak in the atmosphere of the club to spur your creative juices. He'd forgotten his phone yet again when he caught you singing to yourself, circling the locker room.

You were shocked to see him and had blushed in embarrassment that you were singing so loud when you weren't actually the only one left, but he had made it clear that you had nothing to be ashamed of.

"I think you sound great," he had said, which made you heave a sigh of relief. "Would you mind showing me more of what you have for the song?"

You obliged, and since that day, you and Jamie would hang back after training. You'd sing Jamie the melodies you were toying with, play your guitar, and run lyrics by him. Songwriting wasn’t ever something Jamie had shown interest in, but now that you were letting him in on the process, he had grown to enjoy it, especially since it was an excuse to spend some alone time with you.

Overtime, his inclination had blossomed into what felt like a boyhood crush. He desperately wanted to ask you out on a real date, but he was worried that you’d say no and that you’d never have another of your after hours songwriting sessions or that your friendship with Keeley would keep you from saying yes.  To his delight, you immediately said yes when he accidentally blurted out "could I take you for coffee sometime?"

Coffee turned to dinner, which turned into a budding romance. As soon as the team realized you were getting along with Jamie, they seemed more inclined to hear him out, and you even encouraged Jamie to apologize. Jamie was thankful that you had helped him bridge the rift between him and the rest of the team. Now you were all like one big, happy family and Richmond was on a win streak.

From the pitch, Jamie smiles in your direction and waves his hands high above his head to get your attention. He sees Keeley point his way, tapping your shoulder.  Your eyes dart to him and you immediately smile, seeing him grinning at you like a little kid.  The whole Richmond team lets out a series of “oohs” and slap Jamie on his shoulders when he makes a heart with his arms in your direction. You wave back to him, shouting “Good luck, Jamie!”

Some of the Tottenham players look over to the group of Richmond players and then up to the stands, trying to see what the commotion from their opponents is about.  Their kitman’s eyes raise as he nearly misses one of the players hands when he tries to hand him a water bottle.  

“No way!” the kitman gasps, his eyes wide.  

“What is it?” a player says, looking to the stands as well, finally seeing you waving at the Richmond gang.  “Oh shit!” The player goes to tap his teammate on the shoulder and points up at you from the field.

“Who’s the fuck's that?!” another says rather gruffly, which makes the entire Richmond team burst into laughter as the Tottenham players seemed completely taken aback at your presence, especially since you’re sporting Richmond gear of all things.  Jamie blows a kiss your way with a flourish, which makes you blush. You shake your head at his cheesiness.

You mouth “good luck! Go get ‘em” to Jamie, and he smiles in thanks to you, his heart swelling with confidence.  Ted calls the boys over for a few final words before the match starts and with your support, Jamie’s ready to go all out with his team today. 

--

Thanks for reading!

[uchihaxitachi]

itachi’s june -> day 13: getting married (proposal)

itachi’s the one who (for obvious reasons) proposed you first. when you both were in a relationship, itachi checked out your aspirations for marriage & a life ahead. he would ask subtle questions like — “so, what do you think about just, living together forever in the future with me serving the same breakfast to you?”

you know EXACTLY what he’s trying to hint at, but when you don’t resist and agree easily. that’s when, like a gentleman that he is. he first discusses this with his parents, and then yours.

mikoto and fugaku are on the ninth cloud when their eldest son finally makes this decision. they haven’t been pressuring towards itachi for finding a partner, but now that he has, it surely has made them happier. <3 they start tweaking about the marriage dates and so on 😭

itachi has to halt his parents thought train for the time being & consult yours. he would ask your mum over a call that he feels he’s ready to take the next step with you. he also feels that you are ready as well, and would like her to keep it a secret from you for the time being. of course, your mom would happily agree. having an uchiha son in law especially someone like itachi is all they could ask for. someone so kind, generously nurturing, affectionate.

itachi has been the king of subtle, but when he asks for you to get those specific off white nails? you’re impressed already. okay— of course. 😏

would take you out on a trip. not to paris because proposals in paris have started to become cliche. itachi knows that, it would be probably a destination you like. he would pre-inform you to take an off from work, and spend some time with him. even your little cat is involved.

and then just… one day, he proposes to you with a ring during sunset by the beach, watching the salty sea breeze tickle his hair and having your pictures clicked professionally. <3 truly a magical moment when there is someone like itachi planning every single thing in an intricate detail.

[cyborg-franky]

Can you make a HC about what they do when Luffy is King of Pirates, the One Piece is found, Mystery of "D" resolved and so on? I mean if they stay Pirates, settle down, marry or do another profession. 👀 When there 35 plus or older. Please with Zoro, Sanji, Law and Kid 😍

Ooooh how fun! I did a bunch of chars including the ones you wanted : D

Sanji Sanji finds the all blue and makes his own floating restaurant. Luffy always comes to visit and always eats him out of house and home. Sanji has long hair he keeps in a ponytail, and he has a beard he keeps in a braid, just like his old man [Zeff <3] Sanji is tough love with teaching his chefs but they all love and respect him. He’s married to his work and also every pretty person who steps foot in his restaurant. He calls it ‘The All Blue’ and he charges people with alot of money but helps out those in need. Thanks to Luffy being not just the pirate king but also a yonko his place is considered untouchable by the marines and thus everyone can come and eat here fearlessly with no worries. 

Zoro He’s the greatest swordsman in the world. He never leaves Luffy’s side, always sailing the high seas with his captain. When he does eventually settle down he gets married, and everyone is invited, even Sanji. He runs his own dojo now in Kuina’s memory, he teaches kids how to fight. He doesn’t turn away people who are female-bodied/identify as girls because he knows how strong they can be and would never play the sexist card. Everyone who trains with him are equal and valid. He would teach his own children how to fight too. He’s a firm but fair teacher. He still has that short mossy hair of his, maybe he’s got some ink now.

Nami Fame, wealth, power! Some say that’s just for the Pirate king, but Nami would disagree, Nami has everything she’s ever wanted. She sends back loads of money to her home island which have repaired all the damage that the Arlong Pirates ever did. They become a thriving community. She even makes sure there is a lovely orphanage, in memory of Bellmere with orange trees all around where young women can grow and learn skills and become strong and anything they want to be. Nami gets her short hair back.

Robin and Franky Together, but not married. Neither wants to get a piece of government-approved paperwork to say they are married. Robin can piece together all the mysteries of the world, the void century is her’s and she passed on everything she can to her students. She makes sure the next generation of the world will remember everything that happened both good and bad and as long as there are people alive who know what happened, who have seen the devil and god history can avoid repeating itself. Robin has her bangs back, and wears her long, long hair in a braid. 

Franky becomes a teacher himself! He passes on the amazing shipwright skills he learned from Tom to anyone who wants to come and learn from him. Both are a blessing to the generations after. Maybe Franky has toned down his look a little and he’s more like he was in pre-skip? 

Brook Still a hecken popular musician who is going around touring, loved by many, and as long as his music keeps touching people's hearts and he always has fans, he won’t ever truly be alone. He obviously reunites with Laboon too!

Jinbei Retired, living his best life back at Fishman Island, and has a spouse now. He keeps an eye on Fishman island though there is nothing but peace. After all the island and his people are protected by the pirate king himself.

Usopp Usopp goes off and becomes a pirate captain himself! But it doesn’t last very long, it’s just not the same so he retires and goes into writing books. He writes stories of all his fantastic adventures and inspires the hearts and minds of many young people who all want to be pirates. He also takes up art as a more serious profession. He writes and does his own artwork. Usopp’s Fables. Maybe he goes back to his village, him being a famous writer brings good things for the sleepy village.

Chopper Goes back to DRUM and helps the people, bringing back doctors to the island. DRUM once again becomes well known for how amazing its doctors are. He’s a good teacher for those wanting to be in the medical field.

Luffy THE PIRATE KING HIMSELF? Every night is still a party, he only settles down when the last of his crew wants to seek their own fortunes. He visits them all. Spending his time traveling between them and going on adventures. He never truly settles down. Just married to his love of life. 

Law Still a pirate, still with his crew because they are and always will be his family. He did everything he set out to do, take people down, and get revenge, he didn’t ever see his life past Dressrosa to start with so everything is a bonus. The only difference is now the heart pirates have less of a reputation for their captain being scary and cruel but the best place to take anyone with a rare illness. He specializes in learning about them and healing them. Totally rocking more tattoos everywhere and a ponytail maybe. Or an undercut…

Kid IGNORING CANON Him and his crew are still an issue for the world government, even in their 30s, 40s, hell even when they're 70 they are wild and causing chaos all across the world. Kid loses his violent streak and is just out here with his boys having the time of his life. Maybe he has a partner or two, he and Killer going polyam at last.

Marco Marco even at like 80 still looks younger, still a doctor on Sphinx but this time he’s not so honour bound to the memory of Whtiebeard and Ace. He sometimes leaves the island to go on adventures. He visits his partners, finally allowing himself to date again. He becomes a vet as well as a doctor, helping out people on islands he visits while seeing his partners. He’s enjoying his retirement, he has so many people in his life again that it heals his heart. Still, he aches for everything he’s lost, he always will but now he’s not shackled by it.

Sabo Thanks to his efforts and the RA the world is a more equal place, he makes sure of it. Aside from all of that. Maybe Sabo has a partner, maybe he’s allowed himself to have a few kids that he raises to be good and just and to never see the world as black and white but all the greys that the world is built up of. Making sure the next generation has a strong sense of their own justice. Sabo also wrote a huge book documenting Luffy’s travels after listening to his brother tell the stories over and over. The book becomes the legend of the Pirate King. The story inspires another era of pirates.