#don’t tell me she’s loved women?!/j | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

its-time-to-write · 2 years ago

Note

hi i love your work.

can i get touch deprived reader with jamie or roy

you totally can! It just comes at the low, low cost of way more words than you bargained for. Fair warning, Jamie isn’t even introduced for a good solid chunk of the first half. I also have been touch deprived so this is based on personal experience lol.

I feel like I let this get away from me in the same way the Vienna fic got away from me😂

sinking into your worn out mattress

It’s the same routine every day.

Wake up, get dressed, go to work, come home, make dinner, fall asleep, repeat.

It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. You’re nothing if not efficient, maximizing your time to the best of your abilities. It’s not the most glamorous thing in the world, but you enjoy it. You’re lucky enough to be working on your supervision hours under a renowned psychologist, Dr. Fieldstone in London, and it’s paid. Over half the people in your cohort are struggling through unpaid internships and juggling a second job just so they can make ends meet. You’re all propelled forward by the promise of better pay as soon as it’s all over, dreaming of the days you can own your own practice.

You’re not even sure how you landed this internship, as Dr. Fieldstone rarely ever takes on interns. (She’d tell you later it’s because she saw the same potential her supervisor saw in her.) But you have it, and you’re now assisting her in her on-location therapy to various sports teams. You’d been at a rugby club for a few months, but now it’s time to move on. Dr. Fieldstone was asked to come back to a previous club and although she’d never admit it, you know it was her favorite group to work with. It’s the only club who’s picture is on her desk. It makes you smile every time you see her surrounded by a rowdy-looking group of footballers and two very American coaches. She had said that the one with the mustache was no longer at the club, but the bearded one still was along with the angry looking man to the side and the short, grey-haired man.

You’ve seen the photo so many times that you have everyone’s faces memorized. You’re secretly excited to meet the team that made Dr. Sharon (in her colleagues’ words,) loosen up.

You weren’t friends, with Dr. Sharon, never once dropping the “doctor,” that preceded her name, but she would occasionally swing by your standard housing with a bottle of wine after a particularly difficult day.

“This job can be emotionally draining,” she’d say. “I always wished I had someone there for me at the beginning.”

She rarely smiled or showed outward affection, but you understood that this was her way of saying she cared.

But now you’re packing up your flat into your car, and headed to your new quarters in Richmond, London.

—

It’s apparent that Dr. Sharon has a strong connection with the players. There are a small few who allow you to run each session, most preferring to stick with who they know. Your days are mostly filled with analyses and treatment plans, with about two real session a week, one with Rojas, D and Maas, J. You don’t even sit in with Dr. Sharon much anymore, as the thought of an observer makes some of the players uncomfortable.

It’s stressing you out.

How are you supposed to fulfill your hours when you can’t even get consistent sessions?

Dr. Sharon, in her limited kindness, refers you to a friend of hers in town.

“She runs a small practice and works mostly with women. You’ll be able to keep your housing and fulfill your hours. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

You look at her. “Right,” you reply, “because you’re going to have so much time to help me out between all the things you’ve got going on.”

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Listen. Since you’re not my intern, I can become your therapist. I’ll even give you a discounted rate since you’re still interning. We’ll set up weekly sessions. You’ll be fine.”

You’re still not sure. Dr. Sharon can see the apprehension in your face. “Alright,” she says. “If you schedule our sessions in the evening and cook dinner, I’ll do it for free. It’ll be informal, one therapist to another.”

That’s big. She rarely does anything for free. In a moment of boldness, you say that to her face.

She cracks the tiniest smile. “It’s possible that I’ve grown fond of you. And even more possible that I’m addicted to your cooking.”

Huh. You suppose miracles do still happen.

—

Sharon is over for dinner for the third time in a week, and you’re suspicious that she might actually enjoy spending time with you. You’re laughing about some stupid story that happened during a natural environment observation (it involved a slip n slide, an obscene amount of shaving cream, and footballs being thrown at players heads) when out of nowhere you feel tears slipping down your face.

“Oh my gosh” you say while maybe laughing, maybe crying, “I think I’m broken.”

Sharon (she insisted you drop the “doctor,”) asks, “Are you alright?” and you shrug while you begin full-on sobbing.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you say between gasps. “What the actual heck.”

At that, Sharon grins. You’re retaining some element of your humor, despite actually crying.

“Just go on and fucking swear already,” she says. “I think we’re past a truly professional relationship.”

You shake your head. “No!” you say. “No, my mum wouldn’t like it.” Fresh tears start to fall at the mention of your mum. Sharon is actually concerned now.

“I’m not sure you’re alright,” she says, and you shoot her a no duh look. “Let’s discuss what might be the root of your issue. Have you been feeling differently lately?”

You’re wiping your eyes and trying so hard to get it together. You’re not even sure what your problem is. You were pretty sure you were doing fine, but you think back to your week. It had been pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. You shake your head.

“There is nothing too small to mention. Anything out of your usual routine? Physical discomfort, emotionally-draining sessions?” Sharon asks.

“No,” you reply, tears almost under control. “Wait. Yes.”

Sharon looks at you expectantly. “God, this is going to sound dumb.”

She reaches out to pat your hand. “There’s no such thing as too dumb,” she says in her therapist voice.

The gesture is so much like something a sister would do.

“Right,” you say. “Ok. My, um, the insides of my elbows like, hurt? They just feel weird, I don’t know. It started two weeks ago I think and usually I can just pinch them and it’s fine, but that’s the only thing I can think of, I guess.”

Sharon has gone full therapist, and is giving you an analytical look. “Hm,” she says. “Tell me more.”

You shrug. “There’s not much to tell. It’s not like painful, it just feels weird. I hug my pillow when I sleep and that also helps. Um, I push up my sleeves so they go around my elbows and the pressure helps.”

She asks, “When was the last time you saw a friend?” and you can’t think why this is relevant. But you also can’t remember.

“Probably since before I moved,” you say.

“And when was the last time you saw your family?”

You begin to see where she’s going.

“God,” you groan. “I’m an idiot.”

Sharon laughs. “Do you see why it’s so difficult for therapists to self-diagnose? We’re so busy trying to save the world that we forget to save ourselves.”

“But it’s so stupid,” you say. “It’s like, one of the most basic forms of self-care.”

Sharon shrugs. “Touch-starvation is a real thing. It manifests itself in different ways and apparently yours manifests itself in your elbows.”

It’s so ridiculous that you laugh. She does too, and reaches out to squeeze your arm. “I’ll be more mindful of it,” she says. “In the meantime, you need to find yourself some friends. Some people your own age. I’m prescribing you at least two nights out a week.”

You knit your eyebrows together. “I don’t even know where I would go. Or how to meet people. Or what to say!”

“That’s the problem with us therapists,” Sharon says. “We’re really best in a clinical setting. Shouldn’t be let out of the house, really. How about this; next time Richmond has some group event, you come. They’re a rowdy bunch, around your age, too. It’s an incredibly healthy environment, and you’ll be easily accepted. It will be a nice gateway to having a social life. There’s a match this weekend and they’re almost guaranteed a win, so keep your calendar open.”

You open your mouth to protest but Sharon holds up a hand. “I’m prescribing this as your mentor, not as your friend. It will be a healthy change of pace, I promise.”

—

Seeing AFC Richmond in person and off the pitch is like an out-of-body experience.

You’re putting names to familiar faces, and getting a crash course on their personalities.

You know Dani and Jan Maas from your short stint as their counselor, and they’ve taken it upon themselves to introduce you to everyone else. Dani is holding your elbow to guide you around to all sorts of people, and you can physically feel the serotonin production in your brain.

You meet Higgins and his wife, the hosts of this barbecue as well as some of their children. It’s hard to miss them because they keep coming up to shoot Dani and Jan with nerf guns. They’re weirdly prepared, pulling out their own from thin air.

“Don’t worry,” Jan says, “We’ll defend you.”

It’s very much like a large family gathering. You meet Richard, who kisses your hand and comments on your beauty. Zoreaux, who smiles and asks if you want anything to drink. Bumbercatch, who asks if you can read minds. And finally, Roy and Keeley who are standing in the kitchen and definitely were not kissing right before you walked in.

“This is one of our coaches,” Dani beams. “He and Keeley are very much in love, but they will not admit to each other, least of all themselves.”

Roy says, “Oi!” while Keeley blushes. Jan shrugs.

“It’s true,” he says. “There is no point in dancing around it.”

“Fuck off!” says Roy, and Jan and Dani are saved from certain death by head-butt as Keeley steps between them and says, “It’s nice to meet you! We’re so glad you could come,” and wraps you in a tight hug.

She’s small, but she’s strong. You have trouble breathing for a moment in the best possible way.

“Heard you work for Dr. Sharon,” she says. “That’s got to be fucking difficult.”

You laugh. “Yeah, but not in the way you’d think,” you say. “I’d already sold my soul to my education long before I met her. She’s actually trying to help me get it back.”

Keeley grins. “Is that why you’re here then? To reinstate your soul?”

You’re cut off from replying by the appearance of someone new. This one is in Sharon’s picture too, standing in the middle slightly to the left and smiling with the tip of his tongue sticking out. You always thought he seemed like one who looked so happy and carefree because he actively chose to be that way.

“Who’s reinstatin’ their soul?” he asks, squeezing in between Dani and Keeley.

“This one here,” Keeley replies. “You met her yet? She’s Dr. Fieldstone’s protégé.”

“Oh,” you say. “No. Not really. I was just doing my internship with her, but I had to move because…” you hesitate.

“Because no one wanted to talk to her except me and Jan,” Dani helpfully fills in.

Jan adds, “They were all intimidated by the fact that she is close to their age and so beautiful, as well stuck in their ways of having Dr. Sharon. Only Dani and I were willing to give her a chance, and she actually helped me through some important life decisions.”

You had? It hadn’t seemed that way at the time. You feel less crappy about your time at Nelson Road, though. It wasn’t like they didn’t like you, they just preferred to stick with what they know. That, you can understand.

“Mint,” Jamie says. “So you ain’t the team’s shrink anymore?”

Roy rolls his eyes. “Fucking observant, you are. She hasn’t been around in fucking ages.”

Jamie shrugs. “I was just checking!” he says defensively.

You smile. “It’s alright,” you say. “I’m sure you’re busy, and there’s always a lot of people coming and going.”

That seems to surprise Jamie. Almost as if he isn’t used to people defending him. You file his reaction away in your brain, adding it to your collection of knowledge about the football team that made Sharon zip across England for.

—

It’s been two and a half hours, and you’ve have more food and laughter than you’ve had in ages. Dani and Jan Maas had left your circle in the kitchen a while ago, fulfilling their promise to chase around the youngest Higgins boys as well as Roy’s niece Phoebe, and another girl who’s name you didn’t catch. Sam has joined your group now, and he and Jamie are funny together in a way that reminds you of your brothers. They’re constantly ragging on each other, teasing Roy, and throwing things.

Jamie, it seems, is the comedian of the group. You can tell he’s showing off, presumably because there’s a new face. When it’s time to eat, he says, “Stick with me, love, that way you don’t get stuck next to some uncultured animal,” even though Sharon is there and you’d be fine to sit with any of the boys.

But, he’s already grabbed your hand and is pulling you to a spot near Roy and Keeley as Sharon looks on with an amused expression. You send her a single pleading glance (although you’re not sure what you’re pleading for) and she just gives you a shooing motion. She’s happy to sit with Rebecca and her boyfriend. And someone who’s name you’re pretty sure is Coach Beard.

Ever the gentleman, Jamie pulls out your chair for you before settling into his own. There are tables all throughout the house and a few in the front yard, and you’re glad he picked one outside. It’s a little cloudy, but nice weather.

And god, there are people. People who are talking to you, hugging you, tapping you on the arm and holding your hand, even if it is just to make sure you don’t get separated in the stampede to find seating. Your arms aren’t even a little sore, and you can feel Sharon’s observing eyes on you. You know for a fact she’s going to have a lot to say next time you have dinner, but for now all you can think about is the way Jamie’s arm is pressed against yours, as he leans in to explain a football term that Roy just used to threaten Jamie with.

—

You’re not sure how long this party is supposed to last, but it’s three hours later and there is no sign of stopping. The sun is just barely starting to dip, and time has lost all meaning. You don’t know if the meal you ate was supposed to be lunch or dinner but it doesn’t matter because you’re so full that you can barely make room for the pile of desserts that Mrs. Higgins has pulled out.

You’ve moved inside now, since Jamie pulled you through the dessert line saying, “You have to come with me, so I can put my dessert on your plate. That way grandad can’t have a fit.” You understand that “grandad” is Roy.

You’re smart enough to notice that Jamie’s hand is in yours at every opportunity he can find, and that he’s still holding it even though you’ve finished your dessert and are flopped on a couch inside. He’s absentmindedly rubbing circles with his thumb as you chatter on about nothing.

“Oi,” he says, when you’ve lapsed into silence, “is this alright?”

You’re not sure what he means until he holds up your still-intertwined hands.

“Keeley says I’m more touchy than most. Don’t want to fuckin’ weird you out or some shit.”

You smile. “You’re fine. It’s actually really nice.” You decide to leave it at that. No point in explaining touch-deprivation to the cute footballer you just met. Talk about oversharing.

Jamie smiles back, a real one that lights up his whole face.

“Mint,” he says.

—

“Jamie’s romantically interested in you,” says Sharon’s voice through the phone.

“How do you know that?” you ask. It’s the morning after the Higgins party and you only have a 2pm session. Sharon texted you to call her as soon as you woke up, so you do and she drops a bombshell on the first ring. You doubt Jamie would have told her this himself, as Dr. Fieldstone isn’t one to break a confidence.

“Basic body language,” she replies. “Repeated physical contact, the way his body was angled toward yours all day, the fact that he went out of his way to make you smile. All classic markers of romantic attraction. Any trained therapist should be able to pick up on it.”

What she means is, you’re a trained therapist. You should be picking up on it.

“There’s no way,” you say, but it comes out more doubtful than you’d hoped.

“Right,” says Sharon, “there’s no way. In the same way that there’s no way I’m only mentoring you because I see myself in you.”

“Oh,” you reply weakly, because that’s a lot to unpack.

“Oh,” she mimics. “Right. Well. I’ve got to go. Make sure you remember the mental exercises I gave you. Therapists need to take care of their minds too.”

You say thanks and hang up.

Oh.

—

You’re home again from your session, and you are tired. It was mentally exhausting and all you can think about are the pair of sweatpants in the drawer by your bed and the box of pizza that should be at your flat in fifteen-to-twenty minutes. That was about thirteen minutes ago, and you’ve just been puttering about since placing the call and changing out of work clothes.

There’s a knock on the door and you say a quiet yes, before hurrying to answer. You open the door to two people on your doorstep instead of one.

“This your pizza?” the delivery boy asks. You nod, thank him, and hand him the money. He’s gone so you acknowledge the other person in front of you.

“How’d you know where I live?”

Jamie shrugs. “Asked Dr. Fieldstone. She isn’t as scary as she looks.”

“And why are you here?”

You place the pizza down on the small table in your entryway. It hasn’t escaped your notice that Jamie is practically standing in your doorframe now, inches away from you.

He wraps his hands in the front of his shirt. “Isaac was telling me about body science,” he says. “Been teaching me how to read people and shit based on how they move.”

You nod. Body language. Yeah, you know a thing or two about that.

“Anyway, he said you thought I was proper fit. Which is good, because I think you’re proper fit. But, just in case he were wrong, I thought I’d come over and give you a chance to tell me.”

His left hand is on the doorframe now, and you can see the top of his tattoo peeking out from under his bright orange hoodie. There is exactly one inch between you two as he slants his body toward yours.

“You can tell me to bugger off, if you want,” he murmurs. “Won’t hurt my feelings.”

You don’t say anything, just stand on your toes the tiniest bit so he has better access to your mouth.

You can feel his breath when he pulls away.

“Oh,” he says, “I didn’t come here for sex. Me mum raised a gentleman. I’d buy you a coupla dinners first.”

“Shut up and kiss me already, Tartt,” you say, and he’s grinning, free hand cupping the back of your head.

—

You think that’s probably the fastest you’ve ever gotten into a relationship.

“Labels are important, babe,” Jamie had said that night. “How else will you know if food is poisonous?”

You’re pretty sure he’s talking about checking for allergens, but you don’t correct him. You’re on your couch watching a movie with his arm around your shoulders. He’s playing with strands of your hair and it’s strange that you’re this comfortable with a boy you just met yesterday.

Because he is a boy. You’re the same age, but you feel impossibly, inadequately young. He plays it off as youthful exuberance, and you’re sure it’s an advantage on the pitch. Your age doesn’t feel like an advantage to you, but you can’t change it so you might as well just deal with what you’ve got.

You can be professional in the morning, but right now you’ve got a cute, fit boy who thinks you’re cute and fit and so far has not given off red flags. You’re extra alert ever since your call with Sharon, trying to pick up on every subtlety, but you stop trying as soon as Jamie rolls up a piece of pizza like a burrito and tries to fit it all in his mouth. You know that Sharon would have been the first to tell you if this was a bad idea, and the fact that she even told you Jamie was interested is basically like her giving her blessing.

Jamie leaves too soon, but he does so with your number in his phone and the promise of “a proper date,” as soon as you both can manage.

—

“A proper date,” turned into two proper dates, then three, then four, then seeing each other steadily throughout the weeks, then your first sleepover after the third week. Your skin was all tingly when Jamie invited you over to his for dinner, telling you he was going to cook for you. You knew exactly what was going to happen that night and made sure you were prepared.

You dressed nice, in clothes that gave him easy access to your skin underneath.

“Am I rushing this?” you had asked Sharon the day before. “I’m asking you as my mentor. Am I being an idiot?”

Sharon had taken a moment to consider before answering. “You’re smart for your age. And wise beyond your years. I don’t think you’re being an idiot. We can’t let our work consume us, no matter how important it is. You’re a brilliant therapist. You’re always giving yourself away to those around you. You deserve something for yourself, and you know how to pick a good one.”

You hugged her for those words. She seemed startled, but accepted it. You didn’t think life could get much better.

You were wrong. You discovered life could be so much better the moment Jamie’s hand slid under your skirt and you were kicking off your shoes on the way up the stairs.

“Stay,” he whispered when you were done. “It’s fuckin’ late anyway. You can use my shower and wear one of my shirts. I have an extra toothbrush. I fucking hate sleeping alone.”

So you’re in one of his t-shirts and your underwear, arms wrapped around Jamie’s waist.

You think what am I doing? but Jamie presses a soft, sleepy kiss to your temple and you think maybe you’re doing something right.

—

It’s been a hell of a week. You’re swamped, Jamie’s always at training, and neither of you have been able to make the time to see the other in days. Your inner arms are sore again, and your dinners with Sharon have been short and extremely clinical in a way you desperately need. However, once-a-week therapy is not enough to get rid of the feeling you have, and you wake up throughout the night holding your pillow as if it were Jamie.

You’ve gotten used to having his hand in yours, your head on his shoulder, knees touching and arms wrapped tight around your body. Having it taken away is worse than before, because at least then you didn’t really know what you were missing. Now, you feel as if you’re going to die unless someone does something, even if it’s just a high-five.

You’re sitting at your kitchen table, one knee pulled up to your chest as you review case notes. Your food has gone cold because all you can do is cry. You’re so tired and so lonely and it shouldn’t be this way, but it is and you’re just over it. There’s a knock at the door so you wipe your eyes and answer it, hoping you look normal.

It’s Jamie.

The moment you register who it is, you’re launching yourself into his arms, wrapping around him like a spider monkey. He laughs. “Hello to you too,” he says, spinning you around. He stops when he feels you shaking in his arms.

“Oi,” he says, frowning a little, “you alright, love?”

He can feel tears on his neck.

“Babe,” he says, “did something happen at work?”

You shake your head, face still buried into the crook of his neck. “I just missed you,” you croak, voice muffled.

Jamie chuckles at that. You’re lucky he’s strong, because he’s able to carry you to the couch like it’s nothing, kicking the door shut behind him without losing his balance. He settles with you in his arms, rubbing a pattern on your back.

“It’s alright, love, I’m here,” he says, and you’ve never been more grateful for the fact that he calls you love more than your actual name. It’s like he’s always reminding you how he feels about you.

You just hold him tighter, letting the terrible feeling you had all week fade away. When it’s mostly gone, you pull away so you can look him in the face.

“I- I have this thing,” you say. Jamie looks concerned.

“Are you dyin’?” he asks.

“No!” you reply. “No, I’m not dying. I have- I’m touch-deprived. I let it get really bad sometimes and then I can physically feel it. You can look it up, it’s a real thing.” You don’t know why you feel the need to defend yourself. Jamie’s just looking at you, all quiet seriousness.

“That what it’s called?” he asks. “I know what you mean. Fucking had it two years ago. Used to egg Roy on just so he’d push me around and the lads’d have to hold me back. Wasn’t near me mum anymore, so I didn’t have anyone to hug me or anything. Sounds dumb, but… I just needed someone to touch me. Like if they didn’t, it meant I didn’t exist. Fucking mental.”

“Mental,” you agree.

Jamie smiles. “You’re the fucking best, you know that?” he asks. “I’m never bored when I’m with you. Came over to see if you wanted to watch a movie or play video games.”

He’s stroking your cheek with one hand, other still wrapped around your back.

You smile back. “I really, really love you Jamie Tartt. I’ll play video games, I just don’t want to play FIFA.”

Jamie’s smile drops. “Shit,” he says, and you think it’s because you don’t want to play his favorite video game. “You weren’t supposed to say it first, I was. I was gonna tell you tonight anyway.”

“It’s not a big deal, babe,” you say.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s a big fuckin’ deal. Now I’ve got to make it up to you.”

“No you don’t,” you say.

“Yes I do,” he replies. “I’m gonna tell you every fucking day how much I love you. I’ll drive home early from away games just to hug you. I want you to always feel like you have the love you deserve.”

You’re at a loss for words.

“Cat got your tongue, don’t it?” Jamie asks cheekily. “Not a problem, babe. I know how to get it back.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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diaprincess-dl · 1 year ago

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First of all, thank you for who you are, and especially for choosing to share it with the world.

I am DL, with very few AB tendencies, if I understand correctly, you are also like that, with a connection to the DL world mainly.

There are very few women in the community in general, and in particular those who are DL. It's really refreshing to see that the first girl I notice that she's DL, she's also the most amazing beauty I've ever seen wearing diapers, and with a face that has real angelic cuteness.

I wanted to ask, and I would be very happy if you could answer, Even if not a complete answer, at least to know that you read and saw what I wrote, it will be very, very flattering to me.

When did you start wanting to wear a diaper? Is it sexual? If so, at what age did you realize it was related to sexual arousal? And if not, what in your soul makes you want this? At what age did you first put on diapers after initial weaning from diapers? And according to the fact that you had, from what I understand, late night wets, did your parents force you to wear a diaper? And when was the first time you put on a diaper in a section where it was clear to you that it was a so-called 'forbidden act'?

Sorry for the flood of questions.

I had a theory that was destroyed because of you, that these are only men can be a DL, because the sexual sensation associated with diapers somehow comes from stimulation and friction of the genital organ at a very young age in a diaper, which causes the brain to develop something very primitive to want a diaper, something that, technically, does not happen with women or should not happen for obvious reasons. And this is the reason that from the very, very basic tests I did, a lot of DL, these are children who were weaned at a relatively late age, 3, 4 and even 5. Then they develop the desire to wear a diaper, and at the age of 13 or so, it develops into something sexual. And that is why women are not DL, because the stimulation is supposed to be a lot more rarer.

One last thing I want to tell you is that the day I see a picture of you with a soaked diaper under your clothes, my day looks like rainbow.

Thank you so much for this!!!

Hiiyaaa 💕👸🏼

Thank you for such a kind message 🤗 I am definitely more into the DL side of things, you are absolutely correct but I do love some aspects of the AB side, I just don’t tend to share them online as much.

So I just started kindof dabbling in the world of diapers a few years ago, but had been wetting my pants and bed (some accidents, some on purpose) for literal years before I discovered the idea of wearing diapers… When I was a teen I went through phases where I would wet my bed like every night on purpose and then try to hide the evidence in the morning from my parents 🤦🏼‍♀️ they mentioned things a couple of times, but nowhere near the amount I was actually wetting the bed… they probably knew though lol.. l I definitely have a watersports kink, absolutely 🙊. Anyway I felt so silly for not thinking about the idea of using diapers sooner but diapers just never occurred to me lol. A few years back I saw my first porn video with another girl in a diaper and I was just in awe and had to try it myself 🤭.

Slowly I started to indulge more and more into blogs and personal ab/dl blogs to the point that I just kindof gradually mentally got myself in a space where I thought that I could try wearing diapers more often, which started off as just at night (when I was 26 to answer one of your questions)…. But somewhere in this phase I realized the convenience aspect of wearing 👀.. I could actually go through a full night in bed without having to get up to pee, so what started as a kink lead to discovering more than just that. I started wearing diapers all night, every night and just got used to waking up and wetting them, but this slowly, and I do mean slowly, about a year of wearing every night, turned into me starting to barely remember waking up to wet and eventually just flat out not remembering/not waking up and wetting myself most nights of the week. This was kindof scary but also turned me on? 🤷🏼‍♀️🤭 sooo I just kept doing it.

Here’s where the “convenience” aspect let me start wearing during the day: long road trips or long days out with my partner meant there was no real good spots to stop for the restroom all of the time. Things like concerts or big gatherings where there is drinking and long lines for the ladies room… I started wearing diapers to some of these things, not much as first but when I’d go back to not being diapered and have to suffer waiting in line, or waiting for a pit stop.. it was those moments that I seriously realized how much better it was being padded 💡 It was a little scary at first wearing diapers in public, especially wetting them.. also especially because I typically wear leggings or short dresses, so there is always some way that it can be seen. I’ve slowly just started to realize most people don’t care what you’re wearing for underwear, especially strangers. Friends on the other hand… 😬🫠 I know that some of my friends have noticed my diapers. I’ve had friends over for wine nights and forgot (on multiple occasions) to throw away my night time diapey and it was folded up on the bathroom floor and two of my friends went in there before I had went in and noticed. I’ve had a leak while waiting for a cab with my other friend and it was just us waiting outside in the quiet and I know she could hear the leaking onto the pavement. I also have multiple pictures on here of a diaper(s) I was wearing for while we were all hanging out…. So like all that and many other random occasions I’m sure lots of my friends know I wear diapers, I’m just waiting for someone to say something 🙊🙊 but part of me knowing they know, secretly turns me on? I’m super weird 🫠

So anyway since I knew there was a really big and accepting community out there for this, I finally got the courage to make a blog on Tumblr. It actually just started out as a personal blog for myself to be honest. Just a place where I could document my progress and share this side of me, for pictures I could go back and look at… I had no idea it would blow up like this. 😳 but I am extremely grateful and happy about it 💕💕

I wear diapers all of the time now, and am 100% nighttime bladder incontinent, and daytime at this point of a year wearing diapers 24/7 and NEVER trying to hold it….. I’m like basically there for daytime incontinence. 2 years ago I could totally hold it for hours like any other girl, but now I legitimately need diapers to keep me ‘dry’. I did it all to myself and part of me can’t believe it, but most of me is really happy I did it to myself 💕

#diaperdependent #diaper dependent #ab/dl #ab/dl community #ab/dl lifestyle #ab/dl babygirl #ab/dl diaper

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drugsorgasmsandcheese · 11 months ago

Text

trouble, j. miller | chapter two

mob!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter summary: your first shift at apocalypse lives up to the standards that you hoped for, and you work your charm on everyone there. money and validation never hurt anyone, and you definitely didn’t mind it.

chapter warnings: alcohol consumption, food consumption, uh oh curse words, joel miller being a “power to the people, stick it to the man” man (we believe in that over on this blog), reader & dancers shake ass bc they can, google translated spanish 😍, no beta again, AND DID SOMEONE SAY JAVIER PEÑA!?

word count: 2274

also can u guys start asking me to be on this taglist by either bribing me or threatening me idk i think i’d just like to see “add me to your taglist or i’m gonna be under your bed at 9:03pm”

(series masterlist)

when you step outside of the changing room, you head over to the snack drawers. you may have eaten before you arrived, but turning down free food was a sin in your eyes. you settle on a pack of hot cheetos and some trolli candy before sitting in a high chair and allowing lucy to do your makeup.

lucy was a lovely woman. she told you the basics about her, how she’s trying to save money so she can buy her first apartment, the name of her cat, etc. and, jesus christ, lucy was good at make up. her shade match was amazing, the blush and contour sculpted your face well. the eye make up was a smoked out black wing, with purple eye glitter on your eyelids. your lips were glossy, pouty, and fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

“lucy, i want you to know that if you ever decide to dump your boyfriend, i will be right here waiting for you.” you take another look at yourself in the mirror. “i look so hot i want to fuck myself.”

lucy giggles, and the two of you join adele, who runs you through everything you need to know. when she gets to the hourly pay and tips, your mouth drops in shock. “damn, didn’t realise joel was such a socialist.”

adele and lucy laugh. “baby, he pays everyone here good.”

lucy nods. “dancers get their money from customers and an hourly pay too. he treats us all good, it’s why we all like working here so much.”

you get to know some of the women whilst you’re there. you dance with them, they teach you some moves that are part of their routines, you sing with them. in all honesty, a lot of time hadn’t passed and you felt like you would defend these women with your life.

a knock sounds on the door, and adele opens it to find joel standing there. he beckons you with his hand outstretched. you give your goodbyes to the girls, dramatic as ever but you would miss this moment between you all, even if they did say you could drop by this room any time you want like the other female waiting staff did.

you join joel’s side, his hand going onto your lower back again as he guides you to another room.

“kitchen. head chef is joey,” he points to an elder man with black hair and a slight stubble. he seems mean…you’ll fix that. “that’s quinn,” he points to a woman with blonde hair, “and that’s tim.” you look at tim. tim looks stoned. you think about joining tim to get high on your next shift.

“hi everyone!” you wave at them giddily.

“some guests like food whilst they’re here, ‘s why we have the kitchen. ask for something for yourself and they’ll whip it up for ya’ too.” joel checks his watch, and you don’t know much about watches, but it looks expensive and you unconsciously gulp. he’s rich, damn.

“i’ll take ya’ back up to my office so we can go over some stuff before we open.”

when you get to his office, joel offers for you to take a seat across from his. his chair, however, spins, and you’re much more fascinated by that instead of the boring sofa. you take a seat on the rotating chair and begin to spin on it. joel sighs, shaking his head like he was surprised by your behaviour thus far.

“need to go over the shifts you can do. now, i don’t want ya’ overworkin’ yourself or being too tired for your damn lectures. so tell me what shifts you can do for now, and we can go over the rest later.”

you stop your spinning and look up at him. “i can do weekend shifts at any time. um…i have a nine am lecture on tuesday and thursday. wednesdays i don’t have a lecture until three, and mondays and friday i can work after five.”

“alright, give me your number so i can arrange your shifts. you get paid in cash every week and you’ll collect it from my office at the end of the night.”

you smirk, lifting your index finger up to your lips and biting down on the tip. “my number? joel miller, you flirt! take me to dinner first, please.”

he says your name sternly, a warning. “give me your damn number and get outta here. damn trouble, you are.”

you giggle, writing down your number on a piece of paper and giving it to him, and taking an ipad that carries the menu on it, sauntering out of his office and heading back to the dancer’s room.

——

at nine pm, the club doors open and you have your first group sat in one of the v.i.p. booths. a woman orders a sex on the beach, and the other orders a martini. you take the order down to the bar to gather the drinks and meet the bartender.

he introduced himself as javier, shaking your hand and kissing it gently, making you giggle. you knew you were going to get along with him very well.

as you wait for the drinks, one of the dancers comes over and talks to you. chelsea, her name is. a real blonde bombshell who you think would’ve been amazing in the barbie movie. she’s got a bubbly personality and a cute laugh. she tells you that she attends the same college as you, studying chemistry and physics.

you’re cut off when javier places your drinks on a tray and passes it to you. you give a little wave to chelsea as she is called to a booth to entertain the men.

“don’t be a stranger, mi amor.” javier calls out to you, and you giggle.

“and miss out on you? never!” you shout over your shoulder.

as you walk through the v.i.p. floor, you spot some of the girls and give your greetings to them, winking and grinning as they walk by. you make it back to the table and place the drinks down in front of the two women, and you gasp at them both.

“i just noticed your make up, holy shit! you girls are stunning.” your customer service skills deserves an award, and you’re forever thankful that you’re a massive extrovert and can get away with half the shit that comes out of your mouth.

the girls give their thanks to you, complimenting you back and you shrug them off. you were getting tipped tonight whether they liked it or not. you were hellbent on winning everyone over.

it’s when you’re putting in an eighth round of drinks that you feel a hand on your lower back yet again. you turn your head to see joel, looking down at you.

“need you in booth five.”

“alright, just gotta get these drinks from javi and some orders from the kitchen and i’ll be with you.” you smile at him, and joel walks away back to the booth.

you take your drinks from javi, and he doesn’t forget to give you some pet names in spanish, and you head back to one of the private rooms. you see a woman by the name of destiny dancing on a small stage with a pole as you give the men their drinks. she winks at you and you return it.

you place the drinks down in front of the men, taking your tray as you lean down and whisper to the closest one to you. “i’ll be back with your food, sir.”

and you return within five minutes, having won over the entire kitchen staff with your undeniable charm. you arrive with two large plates of nachos that the three men share between themselves. one of them slips you a hundred dollar bill, and you blow a kiss his way as you leave the private room.

men were too easy sometimes.

you enter the soundproof glass door of booth five, stepping in and pulling out your tablet. “any drinks i can get for you guys?”

a bald headed man orders a jack and coke, one with a skin fade orders a budweiser and you had to do a subtle double take on him because men in their thirties have skin fades? huh, you learn something new everyday. you look at joel and he shakes his head. “i’m alright, darlin’.”

you smile at him, placing the orders through on the tablet. “i’ll be back soon. let me know if you need anything else.”

as you walk up to the bar, you smile at javi. “oh, my beautiful husband. how i’ve missed you.”

javi looks at you and smirks. “ah, mi pequeña esposa, you’re back. what drinks do you need?” {my little wife}

“jack and coke and a budweiser.” you respond, resting your arms flat on the bartop and placing your head on it as you watch jack make the drinks, your tablet sat right next to you. “javi, what’s the weirdest drink you’ve had someone order?”

“bloody mary with passion fruit liquor.” he grimaces, as do you. what kind of sick fucks were drinking bloody mary’s anyway? and you can make a bloody mary worse? ew.

“i wanna see a drink named after me on this menu one day.” you take the drinks from him as he chuckles.

walking back to the booth, you balance the tray on one hand whilst the other opens the glass door. you place the drinks down in front of the two men, giving them sultry looks as you do.

you were going home with benjamin franklin tonight. you were determined.

as you stand back up and move closer to joel’s seat, you could feel his eyes on you, and when you looked at him, he seemed to be hiding back a smirk, picking up on your games. and it works, as both men slip you a few hundred dollar bills that you tuck under the strap of your bra to stash away later.

“anything else i can get for you gentleman tonight?” when they respond with a ‘no’, you feel a light tap on your thigh. brown eyes meeting yours, he gestures for you to come closer, and you bend down so his mouth is next to your ear.

“little shit.” he whispers, and you chuckle, standing back up to your full height and leaving the booth.

the only time you return to joel’s booth is to take away cups and refill drinks. you don’t hear much of the conversation that happens because, quite frankly, you don’t care. the bald guy and the one with the skin fade keep slipping you bills and that’s enough to buy your silence and curiosity.

you return to some of the private rooms, getting drinks for guests and dancers, but during the final moments of your shift, you’re sat at the bar talking to javier. you learn that he’s been friends with joel since high school. they’re practically brothers, and although they weren’t related, they do look alike…

“shithead.” joel’s voice calls out, and you can only assume he’s referring to you due to the choice in nickname.

“that better be meant as an endearment or i will be snitching to my pops.” you say as you walk over, blowing javi a kiss as a means of goodbye. “he may be in his sixties but he can still put a crow bar to use.”

joel rolls his eyes and guides you back to the dancer’s room. you open the door halfway before he decides to speak: “wait around here for a bit and i’ll come get you. i’ll be taking you home so make sure you’ve got everything.”

you pout playfully. “well, aren’t you just a sweetheart.” and your words cause him to roll his eyes again.

“get in there, ya’ little shit.” and he gently pushes you in.

for the next two hours, you and the girls spend your time dancing to some 2000’s r&b. you and chelsea end up whining on each other, and you all collapse by the time ‘smack that’ has finished, giggling away among yourselves as adele is highly entertained by your energy.

a knock at the door sounds, and you can tell it’s joel. you grab the clothes you wore before your shift started, and when you open it, joel is stood there carrying your bag.

“ya’ got everything?”

“you sound like a divorced dad who has joint custody over his daughter. yes, i have everything.” joel sighs at your comment, rubbing the space between his eyebrows which causes you to giggle.

“bye guys!” you wave goodbye to everyone as you and joel leave the building. he unlocks his black porsche and you hop in the front, shivering slightly at how cold it was.

joel notices this, turning on the heated seats as he drives you home to your grandparents. when you’re outside your house, joel stops you from getting out. “i’ll text you your shifts. my number is strictly for work.”

“got it, text you whenever i want. bye joel!” you shout, running out of the car and unlocking your front door, heading straight to your bedroom so you can take off your make up and finally be comfortable.

you fail to notice how joel’s car doesn’t drive away until he sees you’ve entered the house, and that you safely got to your room when your bedroom light turns on. you don’t see how he smiled at your little comment, shaking his head as he drives away.

oh, you were trouble, alright.

____

a/n: reader tormenting joel and him just tolerating it is my ideal relationship

taglist (if you want to be added, pls let me know!! & if your name is in bold, i couldn’t find your account :()

@dugiioh @amyispxnk @skysmiller @alyhull @noisynightmarepoetry @elliaze @dendulinka6 @zliteraturehoe @atyourmerci @al33naaa @mermaidgirl30 @lulawantmula @nana90azevedo @endlessthxxghts @getitoutofmymind @you-taste-so-sweet @blazeflays @iveseenstrangerthings50 @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @aquanatalie @katw474 @ludwigxii-blog @eloquentdreamer @kyloispunk @txmentor @din-jarring @daddysmilf0123 @sofiparallel @dunkinzjm @runningmom94 @ashhlsstuff @moel-jiller @isimpforfictionalmen @drewharrisonwriter @stormseyer @rodriguez31 @elliesswearjar @vvitchesh3x @joeldjarin @untamedheart81 @ellishamae25 @pedropascalfan221 @mellymbee @pedritosgfreal @yassspose @casa-boiardi

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel x reader #mob!joel #mob boss!joel

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jamespotterismydaddy · 2 years ago

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Can u pls do a dark smut fic where reader is a psychiatrist and daemon a psychopathic patient of her and he manages to escape from the clinic and goes to her house because he is obsessed with her

The Psychiatrist

AN: hope you like it! Thanks for being my first request :)

TW: smut, DUBCON, maybe non-con because she starts off sleeping, pussy slapping, choking, somnophilia, dacryphilia, cockwarming

word count: 1,117 words

You have always found Daemon Targaryen to be alluring. His words draw you in as if he sings a siren’s song. You think that he could draw in almost any girl just to drown her. Sometimes, if only for a second, you think that you may let him drown you but you steadfastly push the thought away, trying to suffocate if you can. You’re a psychiatrist for gods’ sake, a professional.

He likes that about you, the way you reject him. He has never been a man who has wanted for much but he wants you, and he wants out of this godforsaken asylum. It doesn’t take so long for him to get the latter. He may be a bit off his kilter but he isn’t stupid. He likes watching as his guard’s life disappears from his eyes; they always underestimated his talents, but you never did. You truly understand him and you love him the way he loves you. He just needs to make you realize it.

It hardly takes him very long to find your house. It’s like you wanted him to find you. He breaks in oh so easily. He’s had quite a bit of practice getting into women’s houses before, but none of them were ever as special as you. He wanders up the stairs and looks at your sleeping form, so pretty wrapped up in blankets with only an oversized t-shirt to clothe you. He begins to lift it at the hem, taking a look at your pretty pink panties. He rubs your thighs gently as he takes his length out from his pants and begins to stroke it. His other hand moves to your hair and brushes it away from your face so he can get a proper look at his girl. He cums quickly at the sight of your soft lips, spending himself on your tummy. The vision of you covered in his seed is enough for him to get hard again. He brushes your panties to the side and begins to rub his fingers through your folds. You shift in your sleep and he watches to see if your eyes will flutter open but they don’t so he climbs onto your bed and moves you a bit so he can get right in between your legs. He gently swipes his fingers across your cunny a few more times before positioning himself at your entrance. He tries to go slow, barely putting an inch of himself in so it doesn’t hurt or wake you but he fails, shoving himself into you completely and filling you to the brim.

“Ah!” You squeal, finally waking up at the intrusion. Your eyes fall upon him. “Daemon?!”

“Shhh, my good girl.” He coos and grabs you by the wrists as your hands begin to flail and push at his chest. He pins your arms above your head as he starts thrusting into you viciously.

“Daemon, stop! What are you-how are you… j-just stop!” You whine as his pace quickens. The hand that wasn’t pinning your wrists came up to your throat, squeezing slightly as you complained.

“Stop… mewling like a little kitten. I’m just giving you what you want.” Your eyes begin to fill with tears. The sheer size of him being almost too much for you to handle.

“But it doesn’t fit!” You whimper and he smiles as the tears begin to fall down your cheeks.

“Oh but it does, baby, and you’re taking me so so well.” You pout a little as his cock slams in and out of you. You want to be treated gently but he knows what you need.

“J-ust… slow down.” You beg.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” His eyes darken as he speaks the words. His hand comes up, off your throat to slap you across the cheek, just a warning hit. It doesn’t hurt… much.

“S-Sorry.” You barely manage to get out.

“I know you are, baby.” He fucks into hard and you start to writhe around. “Stop moving and take what I give you.” You immediately quit squirming.

He lets go of your hands and they quickly move to grip his biceps. He finally brings his lips to yours for a kiss. His mouth moves against your’s bruisingly and his fingers come to your pearl to rub it harshly. You finally let out a proper moan.

“There’s my good girl.” His hips slam against yours and you think that you’ve never been fucked so brutally in your life. He stops touching your pearl for a moment to lift your leg over his shoulder and you begin to whine at the lack of contact but it's cut off by a moan as he somehow manages to get deeper inside of you. “That’s what I thought.” You think he's about to touch you again but you’re surprised as his hand slaps down against your pearl. You flinch dramatically and whimper. “I’ll give you something to whine about.” He slaps it again and once more, causing the tears to flow freely from your eyes.

“No, i’m sorry!” Your little hands come down to try and stop the assault on your pearl but they’re quickly pinned above your head once more.

“Looks like you need more because I love the way you squeeze my cock when I slap this little cunt.” You squeal as he harshly and rapidly smacks your pearl a few more times. When he finally lets up on the abuse, the lack of constant stimulation causes you to cum.

“Daemon…” You whimper out his name as your walls clench tightly around him, milking his cock until he spills deep inside of you.

“Seven hells, you really are my good girl, aren’t you?” He doesn’t pull out, rolling over and taking you with him so that you’re lying on his chest. “You were so perfect. My perfect girl.” He rubs circles on your back as you nuzzle face into his neck. You feel filthy but also… loved. Like the man lying under you would give you the world on a silver platter if you asked. He stays with you for a while, giving you a proper chance to recover from the experience before pulling himself out of you so swiftly that you wince.

“Ah…” He smirks at the cringing look on your face and gets up, out of your bed before fixing his clothing. “Wait where are you going?”

“Baby, I didn’t get out of the asylum on good behaviour. I’ll come back for you though, okay?” You nod slightly but still pout at him. He chuckles and gives you a little kiss on the forehead before slipping out your door and back into the night.

taglist (comment to be added): @valeskafics @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies

#daemon smut #daemon x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen smut #hotd #hotd smut

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gloomwitchwrites · 8 months ago

Note

Oh my goodness Poppy! Congratulations on 1k, that’s so amazing and you so deserve it! For your 1k celebration, can I request an Eomer NSFW alphabet? We need more for that blonde horse lord and I can’t wait to see what you come up with!

Thank you so much! I really appreciate the love! Oh. My. God. Éomer is my beloved. I adore him. Of all the lotr men, he is my favorite. I would marry him without question. I’d give that man anything! Thank you so much for sending this in, and I hope you enjoy!!

Éomer x Female Reader

1k follower event rules

NSFW Alphabet Template (with a couple small changes on my end)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 1k follower event masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This might be controversial, but I don’t think Éomer would be great at aftercare. At least at first. Hear me out! When it comes to intimacy and sweetness, Éomer knows what he’s doing, but I cannot see him knowing what to do during aftercare. He would help you clean up, but it’s not anything special.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)

Éomer loves your shoulders. Whenever you’re wearing a dress that reveals the shoulders, his first instinct is to lean down and place a soft kiss there. It’s also the first spot Éomer kisses whenever he removes your clothes.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It always has to go inside you. Éomer wants to make sure you’re full of him all the time. He wants you dripping with it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Once tried to go to a brothel but couldn’t go through with it. All the pretty women giving him attention made him nervous.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Experienced but with a caveat. Éomer isn’t unknown to sex, but what the two of you have doesn’t necessarily fit into what he’s experienced. He had to learn and adjust in order to align with your needs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Loves a good missionary or modified missionary. Missionary isn’t vanilla folks! Éomer knows how to spice the position up. He also enjoys pressing you up against something and quickly getting under your skirts/dress for a quickie.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I wouldn’t call Éomer goofy during the moment, but he does have a gentle sense of humor during the act. I can easily see him leaning into a playful softness that could send him or you into laughter.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Carpets match the drapes but isn’t super well-groomed on the road. If he is in Edoras, he is better groomed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very good with intimacy. This is where Éomer excels. Éomer is liberal with compliments, and verbally expresses his love often. He is more likely to tell you how much he loves you and why he loves you before, during, and after the act.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Very comfortable with it, but doesn’t have the urge to do it if you’re around. He did it a lot when he was a younger man on the road and spent a lot of time away from Edoras.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink. Hardcore breeding kink. This man wants to breed his woman, and you cannot change my mind about that. He wants to fill Meduseld with his children. I would even go so far to say that he might have a pregnancy kink which only makes him crave his wife even more when she’s pregnant.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Would rather be in a private place, but also cannot help himself when he really wants you. Éomer loves a good quickie where he can pull you into a dark corner and go at it. He’ll take the risk on that account. Otherwise, he wants to be in the bedroom.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Highly motivated. Éomer will happily get it on whenever. You could simply give him a look and he’s on it. Éomer is clearing the room or the two of you are leaving immediately. But Éomer is also respectful of your needs. He won’t initiate unless you show genuine interest, and he also knows to backoff if you’re not in the mood.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Never make you feel guilty for not wanting intimacy. Éomer respects consent and your feelings. This man has emotional intelligence, and will validate you when you’re not feeling it. He will never beg or push or guilt trip you for not wanting to have sex with him. He will also never do anything that might potentially injure you like choking.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers receiving, and has a fantasy of you taking him into your mouth while he sits in the throne. Éomer does enjoy giving but he prefers using his fingers on you simply because he likes watching all the expressions you make.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends. Éomer is more of a slow and steady guy especially when he knows he has plenty of time with you. But as someone who likes quickies as well, Éomer will happily be a bit rough and fast when the moment calls for it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes. Absolutely. With his breeding kink, Éomer wants to have you as often as he can.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Game to experiment but only with your initiation.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Pretty good stamina. Could easily go two rounds and possibly a third depending on the day he’s had.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Nah. No toys. Éomer wants to be the only one to give you pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Rarely. Éomer is too sweet for that. He might tease a little bit but it’s mostly for intimacy’s sake and not to punish or prolong pleasure.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not loud in terms of volume, but does talk a lot. Will verbally praise and give affirmations before, during, and after the act. He grunts more than he groans or moans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Loves it when your thread your fingers through his hair and tug.

X = Xtra (an additional headcanon)

Sometimes walks up in the middle of the night and just admires you in your sleep.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very high. Éomer needs to satiate that breeding kink.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Very fast. When he’s done, he’s done. Éomer is the type to roll on his back and immediately pass out.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck

@tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado

@cherryofdeath @berarenado @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf

@ferns-fics @beebeechaos @hantheconqueror

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calummss · 9 months ago

Text

O Captain, My Captain | Nell Jackson

masterlist

summary: running away from a forced marriage you flee onto the ship of captain nell jackson

pairing: lesbian! nell jackson x lesbian! reader

words: 1.5k

a/n: to my fellow lesbians enjoy 🧡🤍🩷 i want credit for inventing pirate nell j🤓

You had once hoped you would marry for love or at least find love in an arranged marriage like your mamma and papa. A kind of love that starts with a spark and grows into a small flame. That same flame can light a candle, a fireplace, if big enough it can even engulf entire cities. You hoped that someone would burn for but Mr. Norris didn’t love you. He wanted you. Like some prized possession to show off. The governor’s daughter, Lady Y/n Knightley. Diamond among the ladies of Jamaica. You wanted nothing more than to reject Mr. Norris’ advances but he insisted to your father that he was the perfect match. There was no persuading you. Once your father made up his mind there was nothing that could convince him otherwise. Your only plan to escape this marriage was to escape. Literally. You couldn’t bear the thought of looking that man in the face and pretending to like him. You had to run away.

You had packed a sack of a few items days before. Stealing hard cheeses, apples and bread in case you fell victim to food shortage. You weren’t quite sure how you would leave Port Royal, only that you would need to trespass on to a ship.

The next morning you woke up early, stars still in the sky, everyone else still asleep at this hour. You grabbed your sack and headed out the back door, careful to not come across any servants that were preparing breakfast.

Down at the harbour you noticed a ship, not too big, not too small. You saw that you were alone and took the illusion to hop on board, nearly losing your baggage to the ocean. It was quiet and only a few members of the crew paced the decks as they were getting ready to leave. You had gotten onto the ship without notice and prayed you wouldn’t attract notice until their next stop.

It was fiction if you believed that was what would happen.

“And who are you?” A voice sounded from above, grabbing you by the biceps with such force he almost lifted you up. “A ship hopper ey? Up you get. You’re gonna see the captain.”

You tried escaping him but his grasp was too tight. It had only been a few hours since you left shore and already you had been found.

“Please,” you tried wiggling. “Please I swear I’m not up to anything!”

“Tell that to ‘er.’ He said, throwing your forwards makes you stumble. Eye to eyes with a pair of black boots.

Looking up you saw the captain. A woman. She had long curly brown hair, hazel eyes. Such pretty eyes

“What are you doing on my ship?” Cockney accent, London, great you knew the ton in London perhaps it could help???

You stayed silent scared you might make yourself a fool.

“We can’t have ‘er on board, Nell.” The same man said. “Bad luck to ‘ave women on board.”

“Rupert, I literally have tits. You know that.”

“You’re different, Captain, same goes for the others on board. But she’s a real lady.”

She furrowed her eyebrows in response. “Are you saying I’m not a real lady?”

Rupert noticed the dominating tone. That he had pissed her off. He lowered his head and stepped back with a firm “Sorry, Ma’am.”

She turned around to face you, the sunset rising behind her making her look extraordinary. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n. Y/n Knightley.”

“And why is Y/n Knightley on my ship?”

“I had to run away, Captain.”

“From what?”

‘Marriage.”

“Understandable.”

“What?”

“What?” She repeated. “Understandably so. I myself don’t really understand it either. My name’s Nell Jackson by the way. Everyone calls me Captain, Ma’am or Nell.”

You nodded.

“But don’t call me Nellie.” She shook her head. “Don’t like that.”

“Yes, Captain.” You said with such uncertainty it sounded like a question, gathering sly laughter from the crew around you.

“Enough mesmerising our new ruby on board,” she called out. “Back to work ladies and gentlemen! You-,” she pointed at you, “with me.”

Everyone left at her command so you followed her to her office, still lit by the candles she used that night. Her office space was tidy except for the desk that bore many maps and figurines of ships.

“Are you a pirate?” You asked without thinking.

“Why yes I am.” She smiled as if you had just given her a compliment.

“You didn’t even try to hide it.”

“Why would I? I take pride in being captain of my very own crew and ship. Wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t know.” You paced around the room, looking at various artefacts. “I’ve never really owned anything except for a baby lamb once. Then my father ate it.”

Her round eyes almost popped out of her skull. “How sweet,” she cleared her throat. “Look,” she came closer. “I don’t mind having you onboard as long as you follow my rules, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now go ask Roxy to show you the food storage so you can have a proper meal and come back to me when you’re done.

“Thank you, Nell.”

“Go on.”

You had decided that night that you would stay on board for as long as Nell allowed it. You grew fond of her and you thought she did the same. She treated you differently from the other woman on board. Like she cared differently…

The red dress that Nell gifted you when she visited Tortuga on business fit you like a glove. It fit your chest and arms perfectly, supporting your chest yet loose past your ribs giving you free space to move about. It was perfect.

The night grew mild as the hot temperatures dropped to a more appropriate level, the night sky full of stars as the pale moonlight hit the deck. You felt like dancing. You didn’t know why or how but simply because. Taking off your shoes, you twirled into the middle of the deck as you started to lift your feet off the ground to an imaginary beat. The other’s simply stared , wondering if you were well. Your hair ribbon loosened leaving your hair flowing in the fresh air of the Caribbean. “I feel alive.” You giggled, beaming at the crew as you tried to convince them to join you. “Come on, Will!” You took his hands, pulling him in with no success.

Soon after more women and men started to join you. Simply letting the stress of tomorrow be stress for tomorrow.

A bottle of rum was being passed around, taking multiple big swigs yourself, you let the burning sensation work its magic.

Nell joined in and took sips of rum, danced, had fun.

Turning about the deck you came opposite Nell. Taking her hands you spun in circles for as long as you could without getting sick. Stumbling away from the rest you both let out a laugh as the candle light stopped illuminating. You could only see the twinkle of the stars in her eyes as you got closer. Her eyes the most remarkable shade of hazel, her eyes so big one could only stare. Heat arose from your stomach to your chest. Her lips were getting closer and your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t move, like you were hypnotised. Your heart pounded, your knees grew weaker. The empty void that filled the space between your bodies slowly grew as she stepped even closer. Neither of you said anything. You knew what you wanted.

Your whole body tingled, the feeling of her frame leaning on yours, as Nell’s arms wrapped around you felt nearly forbidden. Her lips brushed against yours, softly, delicately, like you were a porcelain figure, one crack away from falling to pieces and being broken forever. You could only focus on how soft she felt against your mouth, how addictively she invaded all your senses. She kissed you long enough that she could inhale your breath, feel the warmth of your skin, and the taste of sea salt on your lips that would linger far after you had gone.

Realising what you had done you pulled away, squinting in embarrassment as you let out deep breaths. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me I—‘

‘—Don’t apologise for kissing me,’ Nell mumbled, placing her hands on your face, placing her lips back onto yours this time more rough. Like you were the air she breathed. The planet she rotated around. She wanted to kiss you and never stop.

Nell gently grabbed your chin, slowly pulling back from the kiss, deep down not wanting to break apart from you again. “Never apologise for kissing me again, Y/n.”

“Duly noted. O captain, my captain, kiss me again.” You giggled as you caught her lips again, throwing your arms around her neck.

#renegade nell fanfic #renegade nell imagine #renegade nell #nell jackson x reader #nell jackson fanfic #nell jackson imagines #nell jackson #louisa harland #lesbian fanfic #sapphic fanfic

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gothic-thoughts · 1 year ago

Text

Trying Something New

Part 1! Dio Brando x Black Fem Reader Smut

DomesticAU, MDNI

CW: afab parts, she/her pronouns, 😋-sitting, P in V riding, dirty talking, unprotected 🥧, overstim to crying, pussy drunk Dio(the dream)

TW: not proofread, sorry if I break ur immersion 🤷🏾‍♀️

Word Count: 2034

“Precious.”

The suddenness of his booming voice makes me flinch and yell out. I look over the back of the couch to see Dio adjusting his collar in the doorway. I clutch my heart, trying to calm it as I catch my breath while my boyfriend dramatically kicks the front door closed and proceeds to fix the stray blonde hairs in his face.

“The hell is the matter with you?!”

“We need to talk. I have to ask you something.”

I exhale, “My nigga, you kicked open the door for a question? Wait, you left work--"

“Oh relax, I'm on break and have like...” He checks his watch, “Twenty minutes left, but never mind that."

I groan and facepalm, “What do you want?”

"My coworkers and I were talking about our partners in the bedroom, right?"

"Ion like where this is headed..."

"So I came straight home to ask why you haven’t sat on my face yet.”

My jaw dropped, and all I could do was stare back at his squinted eyes. He really don’t see how outta pocket that was? And...why is he angry? At a loss for words, my eyes dart all over the room until his groan of impatience finally snaps me out of my thoughts. I blink back at him to see his eyes rolling as he walks around the couch to meet me.

"Hello?!” He groaned, "I mean, you never even asked!"

“Sorry, I'm just wondering where that came from."

“Jackasses laughed, talking about how you've starved me.”

I stifle a laugh by biting my lips, “Uh...I'm...sorry?” I shrug.

“They said women love it, but you haven’t brought it up to me once!" He folds his arms, "Do you think I won’t do well or something?!”

“What, no! I just never really thought about it. In depth, anyway.”

He wraps a strong forearm around my waist and holds me close, looking down with his usual smug smirk.

“We’re trying it tonight.”

“Wha- tonight? That’s too soon!”

"How? I go back to work, you wash up--or whatever, I come back at 7ish, and you sit on my face to relax me from the day. What's the problem?"

"Dio!"

"It's not like I don’t know how delicious you are, angel. I’m just saying, it would be a nice change of pace to be held down while I have my favorite snack. Besides, you weigh practically nothing to me."

I hit his chest, "Aight, damn! J-just to try, I guess."

His smug smirk instantly turns playful, causing me to roll my eyes. His face dips into my neck and squeezes me so tight that I hear his heart racing in anticipation. He chuckles in my neck before pulling away, locking those pretty amber eyes on me, and leans down so his lips hovered above mine.

"Oh...and another thing."

“What now?” I ask, exasperated, “Am I not flustered enough?”

“Never."

"What, Dio?"

"When you sit on my face, I want you to use all that weight.”

I stammer, "What do–”

"Fucking sit on it, none of that trying to run like you do when we fuck."

"Yo--"

"I know it’s our first time trying, but I want you to enjoy every moment."

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

After work, I was happily laid flat on our shared bed with (Y/n) bashfully straddling my head. She tried to stall by asking me if I was sure over and over, but I could barely hear her with my heart beating in my ears in time with the throbbing in my pants. Just by looking at how her pretty pussy twitched around nothing, I could tell she was just as aroused as she was embarrassed.

She leans forward, gripping the headboard to try and steady her shaky hips. I could care less about her embarrassed whines when I hook my biceps around her thick thighs and pull her body down to meet my lips. (Y/n) squeals in shock, slumping forward and catching herself by palming the headboard as my tongue starts to caress her.

"Ah~" She whimpered, “W-were you even listening to me?”

“Not a word.” I lap over the length of her slit, "Not a fucking word."

“It does...feel...good.”

I smirk against her and rock her back and forth on my extended tongue, her hips twitching every time her clit grazes it. She groans, painted nails scratching down the headboard to thread through my messy blonde locks, making me hum at the feeling.

I unhook my left bicep from her and pull my dick from my boxers, groaning vibrations into her as I start to twist my hand around the head. Her weight shifts off of my face enough for me to notice, so I quickly slapped her ass harshly, hearing her gasp along with the echo in the room.

“Where you going?" I mumble, "Spent the rest of my day thinking about this and I'm just getting started."

“Gonna fall, gonna f-fall.”

"I've got you, mmh~ Just relax and let me prepare her."

"What?"

"What, you don't think I'm going to fuck you dumb after this?"

I close my lips around her smooth bud and suckle on it until she calls out my name and begins to grind herself across my tongue. My hips jerk upwards, wanting to be slapping against hers with every drop of nectar that spreads on my tongue, so I slip my hand back down to squeeze the base of my shaft.

"You really thought I was gonna let you be this wet and let it go to waste?"

Precum beads from my tip and runs down to my hand as I stroke myself to the speed she humped my tongue. I push it inside her clenching hole, moaning at the full flavor I missed from only licking.

"Yeah, feels s'good like that, fuck."

"Oh, so you like it when I make out with her, hm?" I growl between slurps, "I thought it was humiliating; maybe I should stop."

"No, n-no baby just-- ah~!"

She shivers over me trying to keep herself together but when I flick my tongue in and out to slurp better she squeals. (Y/n) tugs my hair as her nectar trickles down my chin and neck. I stare up at her beautiful face while it contorts between lip bites and silent moans as her back arches over me, hips grinding faster.

“Mmh~ yeah, there you go. Make a mess, gimme something to brag about tomorrow.”

“Shit. Don't stop, oh god. I'm close, baby, so fuckin’ close. I'm almost—"

I grab both of her hips and slide her across my tongue faster than her brain or legs could process until they shake. She grabs my wrist in an attempt to stop me, so in retaliation, I shake my head from side to side, but I keep going until her back arches when she reaches her high over me, her squealing and juices echoing in the room.

I continued lapping at her sensitive clit until she was jolting and whining from the aftershocks, letting her rest when I grabbed her hips and moved her to my lap. She sighs, thinking I was giving her a break when I shove myself inside the soaking hole and make her gasp. I laugh when she buries her face in my chest, panting.

“Dio~?”

I chuckle, “Yes?” I mock her tired, dazed tone.

“N-need break.”

“Oh, I know you do. I’ll break you good, angel, don’t you worry.”

"I can't, my legs..."

"I know, I'll handle it."

My hands travel down the length of her back to grip her hips and lift her flexing entrance up and down my girth, leaving her to grasp at my chest with each plunge, loud moans hiccupping from her throat every time I hit that special spot. I look over her shoulder to watch the sexy brown skin bounce and jiggle, stretch marks reflecting light each time I slam her back to my hips, sweet nectar and spit dripping down my shaft. (Y/n) adjusted her legs at my sides and tried to bounce herself.

"Aw, you wanna handle it?" I ask, bouncing her faster, "You need your legs for that, don't you?"

"B-baby~!"

"Body's so sensitive too, can't stop shaking when I touch you."

"F-uck, don't stop!"

"You're the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on."

My back arches and my thighs tense under her as she starts to bounce harder. My hips bucked up into her dripping hole at the rhythm, making us both moan out and toss our heads back. I giggle and smack her ass harshly to make her cry out before grabbing her sides to guide her up and down my shaft.

As she came, louder moans fell from her plump, wet lips, the sound of wet skin slapping resonated throughout the room, my heavy groans mingling with her whimpers—noises I could never tired of. I slipped my left into her hair, where I wrapped it around my hand and pulled back, angling her head back while her tits bounced above me. I didn’t give a damn about how much her slick made a mess out of my thighs with every thrust upward, it made it so much easier to fuck her into oblivion.

"Ah yeah," I moan, throwing my head back, "I fucking love how messy and--ngh. This is my mess, right?"

"Mhm~ yes baby. It's yours can't t-take it." She sniffled.

"Too fucking good to let you go, my darling."

"I can't-- it's too much!"

Loose strands of my hair stuck to my forehead as I started to sweat, pushing her body to another orgasm, wondering just how much her body could take tonight. (Y/n) sniffles some more so I release her hair, allowing her head to droop forward to see her lashes clinging together by tears of pleasure as drool seeped from her mouth.

"F-feels too fucking good. Too good, baby, please."

“Keep your head down, I want you to see how pretty you look when you’re crying for me.”

"Ah, ah, hah~ P-please, I can't."

“Oh, fuck…” I growl, “Look at that pretty face."

(Y/n)'s breath hitched in her throat as she watched my eyes while I continued to split her open on my cock. The gasps falling from her lips made me moan just as loud as her as I began slamming up into her faster. I reach up to pinch and play with her nipples while her hole clenches around me again. My gaze scans down from her ecstasy tears to the chubby tum bulging slightly paired with each of her screams and whimpers.

"Quite the crybaby, but such pretty tears. God, you'll be the death of me.”

I pull her body down to embrace her so she can feel my hot breath down her neck, my teeth tugging at her ear while my hips buck wildly into her. My plump lips kiss and press against her neck while the veins of my cock rub against her pulsing walls with every thrust. My seductive words swirled her mind when her cunt squeezed me impossibly tight, and I let out a curse at the burning pleasure, my hips snapping ferociously upwards.

“That’s it, cum again.”

“Can’t, too much!” She wailed, thighs quivering.

"Can't? But you're grinding down so hard, whore. Your sweet hole can't get enough."

More tears flowed down her plump cheeks, connecting at her chin, “I—fuck! ’S so-so-so good, ’m close again.”

She was a blubbering mess, torn between wanting me to continue fucking her senseless and not being able to keep up; the sight alone made my balls tighten, orgasm inching closer with every tear that slipped down her face. My body tenses, grip tightening while my other hand slips down to her clit, rubbing it faster until her entire body spasmed as another shattering orgasm rippled through her.

I groaned out, spurting warm ropes of cum inside her and painting her walls white as she trembled in my arms. Riding out our orgasm together while she pants and whimpers into my shoulder. Drool-stained lips peppered my shoulder and neck with wet kisses as my hips slowed to a halt.

#dio brando x reader #dio jjba #dio x black reader #x black fem reader #black reader #black writers #jojo no kimyou na bouken #dio brando #dio brando smut #dio x reader #dio smut

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cyanide-mustard · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 4 ~ I don't have the words to describe (how much you mean to me)

On Ao3

Chapter 4: Fitting into a New Skin

Summary:

James makes a new friend, gets closer with a known friend and comes up with a plan to "fix" her relationship with close friends.

Notes:

AN: There’s gonna be more build up because I cannot imagine this girl falling through a portal and like two weeks after they’re all like let’s fuck lmao. Let me know what you guys think! Here's the alphabet and just a reminder that the translations are always in the end notes! :) A=𝜩, B=𝜣, C=𝝃, D=𝛴, E=𝜓, F=𝝇, G=𝝋, H=𝝺, I=𝛃, J=𝝣, K=𝝥, L=𝟄, M=𝟇, N=𝞖, O=𝝠, P=𝝮, Q=𝞈, R=𝞀, S=𝞏, T=𝞔, U=𝞒, V=𝞃, W=𝝸, X=𝞹, Y=𝞾, Z=𝞙

Chapter Text

“I go on walk,” James said as she stood up abruptly and moved towards the large door of the lab.

“Wait, where are you going to walk?” Viktor asks.

“Outside. I need…I want… I need 𝜩𝛃𝞀….𝞏𝝮𝜩𝝃𝜓” She says desperately, unable to find the word she’s looking for in Piltovian.

“Do you want us to come with you?”

“No, just James, just me” She said firmly before realizing her tone. “Please” she added but not as a question.

She closed the door behind her.

“She’ll be fine,” Jayce said to his partner.

When 10 minutes passed Jayce told Viktor to relax and that she was fine. When 20 minutes passed Jayce told Viktor that she was probably looking at the scenery. When 20 turned to 30 Jayce didn’t give any explanations and when 40 minutes passed they decided to look for her.

They didn’t have to look for long before they heard the sounds of laughter down the hall. When they reached the room at the end of the hall they were shocked by the sight of James sitting with none other than counselor Medarda, both eating a sticky pastry and laughing.

“Pilt𝝠vian hard to l𝜓arn but th𝜓y help. Th𝜓y are like this” James pointed to her sticky pastry.

“Sticky?”

“Haha no no, tast𝜓”

“Oh they are sweet… they are kind”

“Yes, they are kind”

The two women turned around noticing the men.

“Ahh boys, I was just talking to your lovely friend here. I didn’t know Jayce’s childhood friend was such wonderful company, where have you been hiding her?”

“Oh uh yeah, She lives in a small village up in the mountains so I don’t see her often. She’s living with us while she learns Piltovian”

“I didn’t know you knew another language Jayce, I thought Viktor was the only one of the two of you who was bilingual” she said with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

“I don’t speak it often I’m a bit rusty”

“While I’ll let her return to you, I’ve taken up too much of her time already” she turned to James, reaching her arm out, James responded by grasping her lower forearm, to which Mel responded in kind. Both women bowed their heads.

“Goodbye James, I look forward to the next time we meet”

“Goodbye Mel”

When Mel left, the two men were left there trying to play catch up in their minds on what just happened.

“Why does Mel think you’re my childhood friend?” Jayce questioned

“Oh uh… I told her umm.. Not truth”

“You lied to her?”

“Yes I lied”

“That’s my girl” Jayce looked at James in awe “did you hear that Vik? She lied to a counselor, wait no, not a counselor, Medarda, she lied to the counselor Mel Medarda”

Viktor rolled his eyes at his partner’s antics but was impressed by James gaining favour with the counselor so quickly

“Looks like we have a thing or two to learn from our James here” Viktor said before he questioned her, “What was that thing you did before she left? That arm thing you did”

“Oh that fr𝝠m my home, 𝟇𝞾 𝞒𝞖𝛃𝞃𝜓𝞀𝞏𝜓, it is 𝝠h ugh what is word. It is 𝜩 𝞏𝛃𝝋𝞖 𝝠𝝇 𝞀𝜓𝞏𝝮𝜓𝝃𝞔, Mel and James are same on l𝜓vel, we s𝜓e each 𝝠ther the same”

“Why don’t you do that with us?” Jayce asked, partly joking, partly curious. James blushed at his question

“That not sam𝜓, there diff𝜓rent 𝝠ne, I tell you but n𝝠t now. Lat𝜓r”

“Oh speaking of later, Caitlyn will be here in 20 minutes”

James became giddy at the mention of the girl and their shopping plans for the afternoon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two women walked through the streets headed to the shopping district. The conversation was stilted at first, with a language barrier and no Jayce or Viktor buffer the conversation.

James broke the awkward silence first with slow stilted words.

“I am s𝝠rry I do not talk mor𝜓. It is hard t𝝠 learn” She had been correcting and practicing what she wanted to say on the whole walk. “At my hom𝜓, I talked a lot. It is hard not t𝝠 talk a lot now. I am too 𝞈𝞒𝛃𝜓𝞔, I do not like it. I am not …. me”

After a moment of silence, Caitlyn spoke.

“I understand. Feeling not like me, not like yourself” Caitlyn offers a soft smile. “Try, and if you can’t say it in Piltovian say it in your language and I will still listen”

They both stopped walking. James places her hand on Cait’s upper arm.

“Thank you Caitlyn”

They continued to walk, now in comfortable silence.

“Do you know what a bet is?” Cait asked

“A bet? No this is n𝜓w word”

“A bet is putting money down on something you think is likely to happen and if you’re right you get money from the other person but if you're wrong you lose your money.”

“Oo𝝠kay…”

“Like I would bet $15 that Viktor will blow something up in the lab tonight”

“Oh a 𝜣𝜓𝞔!”

Then she looked at James with a mischievous grin.

“Wanna place a bet on fast we can finish our shopping”

James matched her grin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James won $10 in the end. They were done within an hour and a half with 8 bags in between the two of them. Caitlyn and James were incredibly efficient shoppers, getting everything the two of them wanted or needed in impressive timing. They even bought bathing suits; James lit up when hearing about some of the beautiful lakes in the outer parts of Piltover. After telling Cait how she used to swim regularly in her home world, she promised James they would put them to use soon.

The front door was locked, but thankfully James had been given a key for situations just like this. She placed her bags down as soon as she stepped through the door. Before she even got a chance to take off her shoes, she heard muffled sounds from further in the house. She leaned forward to hear the sound better but she should have taken 5 steps back with the moan that cut through the house. If there had been a mirror James would have been able to see that her face was as bright red as a tomato. She decided that now was a good time for another 30 minute walk, so as quietly as she could, she turned around and walked out the door, locking it behind her.

It was bound to happen, the two men were dating, of course they would have sex, in fact it was surprising that she hadn’t already accidentally heard anything. The guilt started to fester within James. She was throwing a wrench in their lives, she was an intrusion in their house and they were just waiting for her to go home. She didn’t know how to get home though. She knows she wasn’t the cause of the portal, the real reason was clouded behind a wall of mist in her mind; everytime she tries to walk through it pushes her back, telling her not yet; when it’s time the mist will clear. She was hoping that she had been led to Jayce and Viktor because they could help her find a way back but she would do it by herself if it meant they got to continue on with their lives without interruptions.

When she returned home she listened for a second to make sure Jayce and Viktor were done with their “activities”. Satisfied with the lack of sound, she slammed the door behind her, announcing her arrival to the house, before picking up the bags she left in the hallway from her first time entering, and brought them to her room.

The exhaustion from the day and the past two weeks caught up to her as she stripped from her clothes of the day and buried herself under the covers. Tomorrow she would make sure she wasn’t a burden.

Notes:

𝜩𝛃𝞀, 𝞏𝝮𝜩𝝃𝜓 = Air, space, 𝟇𝞾 𝞒𝞖𝛃𝞃𝜓𝞀𝞏𝜓 = My universe, 𝜩 𝞏𝛃𝝋𝞖 𝝠𝝇 𝞀𝜓𝞏𝝮𝜓𝝃𝞔 = A sign of respect, 𝞈𝞒𝛃𝜓𝞔 = Quiet, 𝜣𝜓𝞔 = bet

Taglist: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore

#reader insert #original female character #arcance #arcane jayce #jayce arcane #jayce x reader #jayce x viktor #jayce x viktor x reader #jayvik #viktor arcane

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iwritefandomimagines · 2 years ago

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THIS ONE’S FOR YOU — JAMIE TARTT

masterlist

request: Hello! Can I request a Jamie Tartt imagine where the reader is also a footballer (maybe she plays for Chelsea?) and Jamie comes to see the match. After she wins, they reveal their relationship and everyone is SHOCKED. Thanks a lot!! xx

warnings: bit of swearing, otherwise none just a bit of fluffiness. you’re a chelsea player !

“I’ll see you later baby,” you sing-songed, putting on your best brave face to pretend you weren’t stressed to the core about the game ahead of you, “I’ll look for you, yeah?”

Jamie curled his hands around your waist, pulling you close to him and pressing a kiss to your lips, “You’re gonna smash ‘em, babe.”

You pulled away a little to look at the confident grin on his face, biting your lip as he dipped his head to kiss your cheek, “You’re literally their Jamie Tartt, love. How could you not win?”

You scoffed, pressing your palm to his chest at his usual cocky remark about himself.

“Thank you, superstar,” you teased, stepping back to adjust your kit as his eyes scanned your body, “Nobody else is even in here yet, we’ve got time…”

He licked his lips, once again pulling you flush to his chest — but much to his dismay you pushed him away, “Later, J, later. I’ll meet you out back so we can sneak out? Then you’ve got me all to yourself.”

Jamie didn’t say anything for a moment, glancing around the room for a split second before looking back at you with a sigh.

“I don’t think we need to be so, like, secretive anymore Y/N,” he shrugged, “I mean, two of the best footballers in England are dating… It just makes sense, if you’re asking me.”

Now it was your turn to ponder that thought.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed, or embarrassed, but you were only just getting used to the attention that came with being Chelsea women’s star striker.

It was overwhelming, and with that pressure already on your shoulders, you weren’t sure how ready you were for the paparazzi storm to swirl around your relationship.

You’d been together for months now, somehow managing to do so in secret — mostly behind Jamie’s effortless pretence that he was still fucking around — and so maybe he was right, and sharing your relationship with your friends at least seemed less crazy now.

“OK. Yeah — maybe you’re right,” you nodded, hearing noise coming down the hallway, “We’ll talk about it after, alright? ‘Might explode from the stress right now, and them lot freaking out over us won’t help. I’ll see you later, babe. Love you.”

“Like I said, you’re gonna smash ‘em. Good luck babe,” he grinned, sincerity in his features as he admired you turning to open the door for him, “Love ya too.”

—

And yes, just like he said, you did smash them.

Not only that — but you scored your first hattrick of your professional career so far, in a fucking cup semi-final against Liverpool!

As you scored your third goal and your teammates swarmed around you to celebrate the 3-0 score, your eyes flickered through the crowd to find your boyfriend again.

As your eyes met his, you broke free from your teammates and mimicked his usual goal celebration, watching the crowd go wild and your whole squad too as they saw just who you were looking at.

The adrenaline coursing through you was giving you unmatched levels of confidence, and suddenly your worries about the reaction to your relationship dissipated entirely.

“Do my eyes deceive me or did Y/L/N just do Jamie Tartt’s classic celebration, whilst looking at the one and only Jamie Tartt himself in the crowd?”

So everyone noticed, commentators included.

Your best friend on the team returned to your side, then. She gripped your shoulder, pulling you close and leaning into your ear, “You’re so in trouble for leaving me to find out you’re fucking Jamie Tartt like this. You have so much to tell me.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, later!”

The game finished 3-0, Liverpool’s defence proving stronger in the final 20 minutes of the match despite the fact that you’d dominated for the majority of the game.

As the final whistle was blown, you looked over at Jamie again, who was sat between Ted and Sam who’d accompanied him to the game.

He’d asked them to join him because he knew they’d say yes, and he made the excuse that he knew someone who scored him free tickets — which wasn’t actually a lie, obviously.

Despite the conversation going on, Jamie was zoned out just watching you.

It was crazy how much Jamie had mellowed since meeting you.

Of course, to some degree he was still the cocky fucker you’d fallen for when you met at a mutual friend’s party all those months ago. But since meeting you, he seemed to finally grasp that not everything revolved around him.

In fact, if anything, these days he seemed to find everything in his life revolved around you.

You drew in a sharp breath — everyone had seen your celebration, seen you fluttering your lashes at your boyfriend every time you looked into the crowd, seen the proud smile adorning his face as he watched you.

And so once you made your rounds with some of your squad to say hi to some fans, you clambered up the steps to where they were sat.

“Hi, Ted and Sam, right?” you grinned at them both as they nodded eagerly.

“‘S a pleasure to meet ya,” Ted nodded as he stood to shake your hand, “You were absolutely fantastic out there, Y/N. Better than our Jamie over here, maybe,” he saw Jamie’s glare and laughed, “I kid, I kid! You’re both stars, hey!”

Oh, you were so gonna rub that in Jamie’s face later.

“You really were great,” Sam chuckled, “It’s great to meet you, Y/N. Big fan.”

You were flattered, blushing at the compliments coming your way, and Jamie took this opportunity to interject. He stepped in front of Ted, leaning forward.

“Told ya you’d smash it. Good celebration eh,” he smirked, and as you felt your skin prickle with goosebumps at his intense gaze, he gritted his teeth and leaned in to your ear, “Can I kiss you?”

You felt your body shiver under his touch and at his breath fanning in your ear as you thought about his request.

His words were so gentle, but you could hear how desperate he was for you to say yes and it made your heart flutter.

With adrenaline from the win coursing through your veins, accompanied by the fact that you could hardly say you wanted to hide things after your big display on the pitch, you uttered a breathless, “Please.”

He didn’t waste any time, scooping you close to him and capturing your lips with his victoriously.

When you pulled away from the kiss, you were acutely aware of the fact that all eyes in the stadium were still fixated on you.

“Well I’ll be damned!” Ted grinned, hands leaving his pockets to rest on his own cheeks, “Talk about a power couple! How long have y’all been keeping this from us?”

A few of your teammates swarmed behind you too, all hooting and hollering at what they’d just witnessed.

You glanced across at Sam and noticed he was seemingly on a group FaceTime call with a load of the other Richmond players — all of whom were equally as shocked.

“We’ve been together about seven months?” you looked across at your boyfriend, whose arm was rested around the base of your back protectively, “I was funny about us telling people but then… I got so excited seeing you in the crowd and couldn’t help myself.”

“You were fuckin’ amazing, babe,” Jamie grinned as you all began to leave the seats and they followed you into the tunnel, “Looked fuckin’ hot out there too. As always.”

You blushed again, rolling your eyes, never having gotten used to his compliments.

“Thank you babe. We’re gonna have a looot to deal with when I get out of here, aren’t we?” you sighed, glancing around at the stares and whispers surrounding you.

“Definitely,” Sam interrupted your moment, turning his phone in your direction, “You and the rest of your team are welcome to come to Ola’s tonight,” he offered, “The boys are all desperate to meet you, and you can celebrate there if you’re free.”

“How the fuck did he pull Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Seven months and you never told us?”

“Hey! You knew how much I fancied her!”

The shouts from down the phone all made you giggle, but you suddenly felt shy at the attention.

Jamie had told you about Ola’s before, and you were delighted to finally be able to visit now without the secretive circumstances causing any problems.

“It’s well worth it, now I get to make everyone aware you’re me girl,” he smirked smugly, throwing an arm over your shoulder and kissing your forehead, “They all fancy the fuck outta you. But you’re all mine.”

“Down boy,” you laughed, nudging his side and leaning up to kiss him, “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah? I’ll ask the girls about tonight. I’d love to finally come to Ola’s,” you added, smiling over at Sam and Ted too in appreciation for the invitation.

“See you in a bit gorgeous.”

As he turned to walk away to wait for you, you heard him grumble, “I know she’s like, the hottest woman alive and a bit out of my league. But is it that hard to believe she’s me girlfriend? I’m Jamie fuckin’ Tartt!”

You stifled a laugh at his comment, before swallowing thickly as you approached the changing room doors.

Time for an onslaught of questions from your teammates — all thoughts of your victory somehow gone as the news of your secret relationship overtook all conversation.

——————

i hope this was okay !!! sorry i feel like it’s a bit messy but i hope you liked it. would anyone want a part two of you acc meeting the richmond squad?

feel free to keep requesting as requests are open and i’m still v excited to write haha!

in the meantime, here’s my masterlist!

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #ted lasso #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso imagine

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 3 months ago

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Big James | To Die Is Gain | Romantic

Dialogue prompt: “I’ll see you in heaven.”

The cost of following Jesus Christ is high, but it is worth everything, including losing your love.

Requested by J Bart

With a heavy huff, you lift the loaf out of the oven and place it onto the countertop, setting it there to cool. Behind you, five-year-old Rebecca chases her older sister Naomi around the already cramped kitchen, causing you to quickly intervene. “Ah-ah-ah, girls, if you want to play, go play in the living room or in the yard.” They heed your warning as you gesture at the freshly baked loaf. Rebecca hugs your leg as she looks up at you.

“Eema, can I have bread?”

You put a hand on her sleek, dark hair. “Not yet, sweetheart. It has to be a bit colder first so that you don’t burn your mouth and tongue.”

She hums and gives a little disappointed nod before turning to follow Naomi to the living room, where most of their toys are located.

As you turn to wipe down the counters, however, you hear a shrill shriek from the hallway that is hard to identify. When it’s followed with the joyous exclamation of ‘abba’ in a way that can be heard on the other side of the street, you are instantly relieved. Drying your hands on your apron, you head out of the kitchen to greet your husband.

“Shalom, darling.” James greets you, leaning down to kiss your forehead as his daughters cling to his sides. The older son of Zebedee smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Shalom,” you reply with worry in your voice, wondering what is going on. The tension in his shoulders tells you that his meeting with Matthew and Nathanael had been about more than simply catching up.

You move to take his bag from him, but James quickly grabs it before you can slide it off his shoulder. He looks down at you, giving you an apologetic look. “I’m still going to need it.”

Tilting your head in slight puzzlement, you watch how he scoops up his girls and heads to the living room, blowing a raspberry against Naomi’s cheek, causing both of them to giggle with joy. You stand in the hallway for a bit, pondering the interaction before heading after them.

James is just undoing his sandals while your daughters busy themselves with their handcrafted peg-dolls. He looks up and meets your gaze, his form slumping a bit. With a sigh, you walk over to him, crouching down in front of him in order to remove the laces from his footwear. He gives an appreciative hum as you gently squeeze his calves, sensing the tension in his muscles.

“You need to rest.”

“I can’t. I…”

“…Another ministry trip.” you finish it for him as his voice trails off. James nods, his gaze momentarily going to Rebecca and Naomi, who are oblivious to their father having to leave for an extended period of time again.

As his eyes meet yours, something stirs within you. A deeply unsettling feeling blooms deep inside your stomach, a wave of sudden nausea tightening your throat. You swallow away the lump that forms.

Being married to one of Jesus’ Disciples is a blessing in and of itself, that He had called your husband personally as His student to spread the news about the Kingdom of God around the world. The fact that said called pupil had decided to marry you of all women was still sometimes a little bit of a mystery to you. Still, it didn’t make it easy. James was often gone from home. No matter the incredible reason behind it and no matter how proud of him you were, you still missed him greatly.

It wasn’t uncommon for James to leave on a whim, with him throwing a few items in a bag and hitting the road whenever the Spirit compelled him to go somewhere. But now… This time, it was different. Everything in your entire being is on edge, your instincts heralding something… Heart-wrenching. You can’t quite put a finger on it.

Your husband seems to sense something, too. He reaches his hand out for you to take, his fingers lacing with yours.

“Love, I’ll be alright.” he reassures you. “Don’t you worry about me. Just take care of your girls while I’m gone. I just— I need to go to Judea. I— I am aware that my presence isn’t really wanted there, but you knew how Jesus went about these places. We shouldn’t be scared. You shouldn’t be scared.”

Averting your gaze, you try your hardest to not cry. Judea. Herod Agrippa won’t have mercy on him.

You know you can’t talk him out of it, and you know you shouldn’t even want it. Still, you can’t help but want to at least address your sudden concern, share the looming dread starting to take root.

“James,” you whisper, your eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t know about your trip… It is this… This gut feeling that something is going to happen to you.”

James’ face falls into solemnity as he stands from the chair. Suddenly, he looks years older than he is; he has started to look more like Zebedee over time, but now it’s more clear than ever.

“I was hoping that you wouldn’t feel that, too.” You’re not the only one anxious for a tragic outcome of his mission trip, “If only for the reason that you’d remain hopeful for my return and use that energy for the glory of God.”

There is something definite behind his words that makes your throat screw shut. You inhale through your nose and attempt to sound strong. “Ah, Naomi.” The eight-year-old looks up from her playing session. “Go play outside with your sister.”

“Yes, eema.”

The girl fetches her sibling to bring her to the other room of the house, leaving you and James alone.

“You aren’t coming back, are you?”

Your voice cracks. James is on the verge of breaking, gazing down at you with tearful eyes. “This is your final ministry trip.”

“I— I might just get imprisoned, you know? I’ll just be out there, which means that I can still return—”

“I think you and I both know that Herod Agrippa won’t be so kind to you.” you whisper.

Certainty shines through in your words, as if you are absolutely sure of what you’re saying. Your husband gazes at you, drinking in every detail of your face. There is fear under the surface, strangely coupled with a sense of peace, albeit barely present. He gulps, trying to not cry as he steps closer to you.

“My love...” he croaks, “I don’t know what to say. If you do not want me to go on this mission trip, I will see what I can do to reschedule, or—or perhaps cancel it altogether—”

“—No.” Your voice is stern and determined, “No. I will not let my own fears and selfish desires to keep you all to myself prevent the Good News to reach them, too.”

James’ heart clenches inside his chest. He cradles your face, a few tears rolling down his cheeks as he holds you. “You have been the biggest blessing that has ever been bestowed upon me, my sweet, faithful wife. Every day, I am so grateful to have a woman like you by my side. I thank Adonai for you every single time I look upon you.” His voice cracks as he lets out a sob. Emotion gets the better of you, too. You sniffle and muffle a strained wail as you bury your head into his chest, enveloped by his strong arms.

“(Y/n), do not be afraid.”

“You know I will be terrified regardless of what you say, right?”

“Do not weep for me. I will either return to you, or I will see Jesus again.”

The sudden image of James coming face to face with Jesus in the afterlife thrusts grief through every fibre of your being for the briefest of seconds, before it makes place for solace. Even if the unthinkable happens, your husband will be right where he needs to be.

“This won’t be farewell,” he reassures you, “It will instead be a ‘see you soon’, hm?”

You smile through your tears. “How soon?”

James can’t help but mirror it, chuckling lightly as he shakes his head. “Oh, here we go again, with ‘soon’.” It never gets old, even after more than a decade.

The two of you meaningfully look at one another in a silence that is only broken by the sound of your daughters playing in the other room. The eye-contact holds an entire legacy. Nearly ten years of marriage, two beautiful girls, a calling to preach the Gospel, the Name of Jesus over these lands, no matter how hostile their rulers.

Your soft smile falls a little as you realise what it will mean for the next few years, at least for you. You try and shake the thought — the feeling it evokes — you don’t want to be egotistical in wanting to keep James close by, fathering your children, being the husband you need to support you. But it’s only human nature to feel the horrific arms of loneliness loom over you like a dark storm cloud.

Something hits you hard inside your chest all of a sudden, knocking all air from your lungs. A simple realisation that hadn’t even crossed your mind before.

“You won’t see them grow up.”

Your legs nearly give way underneath you. You won’t be growing old with him. You will not see the greys in his beard and his hair. His hands come to rest on your elbows as James senses your premature grief. He squeezes, conveying another message by just gazing down at you, eyes filled with love.

That is not all there is to it.

It is not the end of the story.

There will be comfort in little moments reminding you of him. Sunset at the docks. The scent of a fresh catch creeping through your window as the fishermen of the village haul their wares to the market. There will be the roll of mighty thunder in a warm summer storm. There will be cinnamon cakes. His eyes in Naomi’s features and his nose in Rebecca’s.

“You don’t know that yet, (Y/n).” James steps closer, cradling your face between his hands. You relish in the sensation, melting into the familiar warmth, closing your eyes to keep your emotions from taking the better of you. You commit it to memory — as if you hadn’t done so already. “I need you to remain hopeful. Can you promise me? That you will keep praising Him, no matter how tough life gets?”

“I will.” you breathe as your eyes snap back open again, looking up at him. He smiles and nods, bringing his forehead to yours.

“Good.” You slide your arms around his waist and embrace him. You stand like that for a while.

“When are you leaving?”

“Tonight.” he tells you with a wavering voice.

“So soon?”

He gives you a wry smile, swallowing hard as he nods. “I can still have dinner with you and the girls.” he says. “I saw you baked quite the loaf.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I… You better bring a big piece with you on your way to Judea. We can’t finish all of that in time with just the three of us before it gets stale.”

James exhales deeply. “I… I wish we had more time together before I had to leave again.”

“It’s alright.” you murmur, turning to the kitchen. Your husband follows right away to assist you in laying the table. “I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you.”

In silence, James prepares the table whilst you get the food out, reheating a previously cooked stew to go with the bread. He comes to stand behind you, placing a hand on your waist before his lips find your cheek, then the side of your neck. You can feel his smile against your skin when you squirm a little under his rough beard. “Your stews are the best.” your husband confesses, squeezing your hip affectionately. “Especially when you let the herbs marinate into it overnight.”

Without asking, you grab a small container from one of the shelves and scoop some of the food into it. “For on the road.” you tell him. He gives you a gentle smile and tucks some hair behind your ear.

“You make me the happiest man alive, you know that?”

The girls are pulled back inside by the scent of your famous stew and soon cling to your waist on either side of you, their little faces mushed against your torso and bosom as they watch you cook. James watches the scene with a bittersweet heaviness in his heart, observing the way you explain your process to Naomi and Rebecca who are one day to learn your recipe by heart. The lump that forms in his throat is hard to swallow away.

Following Jesus is not easy, especially not in times like these, when his daughters are growing up and his wife needs him so. But James knows that it is nothing compared to the price Jesus Himself had to pay, that the price of sin was infinitely heavier than any other hardship taken on in favour of submitting to Him. The Son of God has proven so Himself by giving the ultimate sacrifice. James and you would gladly give your lives for Him. Even here, even now, when the two of you had everything you ever wanted and everything to lose.

Naomi and Rebecca sit down in their chairs the moment you tell them to, each of them on their usual spot. Diagonally across from you sits James, already slicing up the bread into equal pieces lest your daughters get fussy over it, as if the loaf isn’t large enough to feed all of you for several days. You place the warm pan onto the table and scoop portions into the plates.

Four of them. Your heart clenches inside your chest at the notion that it might just be the final time that you’re doing this for your full, complete family. You blink away your tears, not wanting to cry in front of your daughters at this very moment. There will be time for tears later.

Dinner goes by way too quickly, but you notice James relishing in the taste of the home-cooked meal. Five, nearly six full years of having dinner with the four of you. Granted, there had been occasional gaps in between whenever James went on mission trips, but still. You had been blessed in and of itself regardless of how much time it covered.

After your meal, it’s time to clean for a bit whilst the girls play in the next room. Your husband insists on helping you out in lieu of packing his bags. The silence between your is pregnant with looming tension. The Spirit tells you that this is no ordinary trip, but at the same time, He brings solace in the moment.

You help James pack a few belongings, a fresh tunic, the food you had prepared for him. Once done, you sit in the living room together, watching your children play, your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck as he holds you near. You relish in James’ familiar scent, locking it into your memory, praying it won’t fade from his tunics and from your home, praying he’ll come back to you to fill your home with love and laughter.

The sun lowers and every passing minute brings you closer to your dreaded goodbye.

Both of you feel it. Rebecca comes over to cuddle her father, as if she senses something lingering, too.

“I need to go.” James heavily breathes against your ear, the emotion tangible in his voice. You swallow hard as you hear the words you hoped he would forget to say.

“Okay.” you respond with equal earnesty, locking away the feeling of being in his arms deep inside your mind out of fear that you’d forget.

“Come here, my darlings.” James beckons your daughters over to his side as he stands, crouching down to their level to face them properly. “Abba has to go on another trip.”

“Nah, really?” Naomi pouts, wrapping her arms around his neck as she sits on his knee. James nods gently and sighs.

“Really. But don’t you worry, I will be thinking of you constantly. Now you two need to promise me something, okay?”

The two girls nod at their father.

“Be good girls for eema and listen to what she tells you. She will teach you everything she knows about life and you better learn from her, because she is the smartest woman I’ve ever met. And whenever eema is sad and needs a hug, you give it to her, okay?”

“Yes, abba.” They both reply in near-unison.

Your vision blurs with tears at his words.

“Now I’m going to say goodbye to eema in the hallway. She will come get you when it’s time to wave at me.”

The two children nod as they go back to their playing, not truly understanding the gravity of the situation. They expect their father to come back home, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The moment you and James step into the hallway, you fall into his arms, sobbing against his chest as the tension suddenly breaks. His lips are on your forehead as he shushes you, rocking you through your premature grief about him as tears roll down his face. “My love.” he breathes, “My love, do not remain in your mourning about me. I am not yet gone. And it isn’t said that I will be.”

“We are both feeling it, James, I—”

“—I know. I know.”

He holds you as you cry. You don’t know for how long you two stand there, but your cheeks are red and raw when you’ve got no tears left to spill. You wipe your face on your sleeve and sniffle before inhaling James’ scent deeply. One last time.

“I will wait for you.” you promise.

“And if it is what the Lord wants, I will come back to you. If it is not what the Lord wants… I’ll see you in heaven, alright?” He thumbs away your tears and looks down at you with affection and devotion. “This life is just a speck compared to what we will receive when we are back with Him. This will pass, too.”

You try to hold onto that knowledge, tuck it away inside your heart and mind. You nod and sniffle, then hug him again.

“We will meet again,” you whisper more to yourself than to James, “No matter the circumstances, no matter the location, but this is not farewell.”

“That’s right.” James hums, “And until then, I’ll think of you and our beautiful daughters. I’m so proud of you. Now… I really need to go.”

You hum and step away, watching how he puts his bag over his shoulder. “Do you have everything you need?”

He nods, cupping your cheek. “I think you triple-checked.” James knows you too well. You smile and sigh.

“Girls? Come wave at abba with me.”

James opens the heavy door. The stars have already come out and litter the sky. Naomi and Rebecca exit the living room and instantly rush over to their father, who hides his tears from them. “I am going to miss you so much.” he whispers with a wavering voice. “Be good, okay? Keep trusting in the Lord.”

The two girls nod before their father kisses each of their foreheads. He then stands again, reaching for the door knob. Rebecca reaches her arms up for you to pick her up, and you hoist her onto your hip. Your other hand comes to rest on Naomi’s head as she hugs your side.

“I’ll see you soon, my love.” James says. You smile softly at him as he crosses the threshold. Plausibly — most likely the final time he ever will.

“Soon,” you emphasise, the two of you holding a moment of meaningful eye-contact.

He gives you a soft look, then looks down at the girls, back up at you, before starting to walk away. The three of you watch him grow smaller in the distance. “Soon.” You murmur to yourself, your heart clenching inside your chest as you feel it start to break with every step he takes away from you.

You hug your daughters a little closer. The price of following the Lord is a heavy one to pay. But Jesus is worth everything. In the end, it will all click into place, just like the way God had intended it to. And all you can do is trust Him in that, unconditionally, without fear.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #chosen x reader #the chosen big james #big james x reader #big james x you #abe bueno jallad

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