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writing-havoc · 2 years ago

Note

Hey! How're you? I hope you're well.

I absolutely adore your works and I hope it's okay to make a request? It's just a little idea I had, sort of inspired by your latest fic :)

Where the reader is a part of the crows and one night she finds this small child outside the club and she feels really sorry for them and brings them into the club and tries to help them? Maybe with a bit of Kaz x reader? Whatever you feel inspired to write to be honest :D

I hope this is okay, I love your works so much! 💖💞

Enough

♡ Summary: You do your best to care for a little boy you found while Kaz cools down

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Hunger, Child Abandonment, says Yn twice

♡ WC: 4.6k

I could have sworn there was a mention of like, a café by name in the books somewhere but I couldn't find it? I just made one up but man this is gonna drive me crazy lol

Anyway, here you go! I hope it is to your liking and tysm for the request and kind words <3 so glad my fic could inspire!

Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

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Finding a child in an alleyway was not something you expected to tick off your bingo card so soon. Taking the child with you to the Crow Club with plans to look after him wasn't even on the card. And yet, here you are.

He's small, top of his head barely reaching your belly button, and his hands are freezing from where they hold onto your own.

You had found him not twenty minutes ago, and planned to just leave him there like any sensible person. But unfortunately, you're not as good at turning your moral compass upside down like everyone else.

So you got his attention, approaching his little shelter and offering him the last slice of bread you had swiped from someone's open kitchen window. He was hesitant to reach for it, hands slowly edging toward you as if you'd rip it away any moment, and with a certain gentleness took the piece from your hand and began to nibble on it.

His clothes were dirty, dipped in whatever dirt the Barrel has rubbed off on him and drenched through to the bone. Things were coming apart at the seams and the soles of his shoes you can tell were about to separate from the rest.

You had asked him where his parents are, and your heart immediately sunk when he looked away and towards the canal, his tiny nibbling seizing.

That was what snapped the little string you had holding you back, the other side tied to your sense of reasoning.

He's just a kid. You were just a kid once. Arguably still are. You'll be damned if you had to watch someone who was no older than 7 go through the same fate you did.

But your sentiments were short lived, starting and ending with you, as the moment you stepped through the doors of the Crow Club with the kid clutching your hand, Kaz was narrowing his eyes and his teeth were gritting.

You glared at Dreg members around you, daring them to stop you as you made your way to the back of the club where all the alcohol is stored. Nina and Jesper were setting up chairs, and you gave them a blank look as you entered the room, the sound of metal thumping rhythmically following.

"Yn." A rough gravelly voice calls behind you.

You ignore it, looking at the kid. "Is it alright if I lift you up? Just to here, hun."

In the softest voice you ever heard, the kid says "Yeah." and allows you to put your hands under his arms and lift him onto a crate.

"Yn," Kaz calls again, making your blood simmer.

There's really nothing you can do here. The Club is going to open in a few moments for the five o' clock rush and there's not any spare clothes. You'll have to wait until you can go to the market later to fetch him some clothes and bathe him at the Slat.

The ferrule of a cane drags across the floor, and you roll your eyes.

"Give me a moment, okay?" You say to the kid, waiting for him to nod before turning around, exiting into the main bar area.

"Are you mad?" He hisses at you, hand gripping his cane so hard you can see it shake. "What could have possibly made you think bringing a child here would be a good idea?"

His anger isn't too surprising. But if you're being honest, it's annoying.

"I was thinking that he has nowhere to go." You say, voice low as you walk away from the door a little more. Kaz follows you, eyebrows still snapped together and a hardness to his jaw you don't think you've ever seen directed at you. "He was outside and shivering inside a make-shift shelter made out of fruit crates and a tattered towel. He needs a place to stay."

"I don't care what it needs. It has no place here." His eyes flicker to the kid.

You cross your arms, anger bubbling in your chest. "He is not going anywhere. He is cold, and small, and hungry, and we have everything here and at the Slat to keep him comfortable."

His eyes snap back to you. "This isn't a daycare. We can't just swing our doors open to any lost kid you manage to find on the streets. This is the fucking Crow Club."

"I know damn well what this place is, Kaz." Your jaw hurts from how hard you're clenching it, head starting to pound at your temples. "I'm not blind nor incompetent. But he can't weigh more forty pounds and he's way past the age for that to be acceptable. I cannot, in good conscience, let him go for him to starve and eventually die on the streets."

He goes to say something, but stops, eyes flickering around your face. Your jaw is set, features no doubt mirroring his as you stand your ground, hands on your hips and feet stood apart.

"Please, Kaz."

You don't care that he runs this place. You're not about to be pushed around and bullied into staying complicit while this kid dies.

And he knows this.

So he closes his eyes, looking away from you as he takes a deep breath, collecting himself. His hand is no longer shaking, but you can tell he's still angry, ready to swing at both the imaginary and the physical.

He takes one last breath and looks at you, eyes only just softer than before. "You are responsible for him. He's hungry? You feed him. He's hurt? You fix him." The crows head of his cane comes up to look at you. "If he causes trouble, you deal with him."

You smile for only a moment before you push the cane away from your face, his barrier down. "He's well behaved. It'll be fine."

"You better hope so." He mumbles under his breath, walking away slightly off rhythm.

You watch him leave, members parting when they see his mood. A few even nearly knock over a chair when he gets a bit too close, Nina and Jesper arching their brows as he disappears out the door.

A few people are staring at you, eyes hungry for gossip and a glimpse at the kid you ushered in not minutes before.

You ignore them in turn for trying to figure out what to do with him.

He's sitting on a crate of Kaelish whiskey, legs shut tightly and dangling off the side, arms wrapped around his torso. But he's looking around, taking in the stockpile of alcohol.

"Alright, first things first." You say, leaving a crack in the door as you step into the room. He's jumpy, staring at you with analyzing eyes. "What's your name?"

He opens his mouth to say something, but then pauses, quickly shutting it.

You chuckle. "Listen, kid. Whatever you've got to hide, I don't give a shit. You're in the Barrel now, the only names that matter here are who you've decided to roll your dice with and those who call themselves bosses."

He thinks about it then, eyes narrowing and feet rubbing against eachother inside his tattered shoes. He wets his lips.

"Leopold."

It's... a little far from what you were expecting. You just barely stop yourself from snorting. "You'd have been better off lying."

His face blossoms in red, embarrassment clear as he begins to shut down.

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry." You're still smiling so it doesn't help much. But you kneel down in front of him. "It's customary here to at least make light fun of others when you first meet them." He's not convinced, but he's a little less prickly now, so that's something. "Is Leopold what you'd like to be called? Or is there a different name you have in mind?"

Again, he thinks about it.

"Leo, is fine."

"Leo is much better." You pat his knee, standing up.

His cheeks are still red, but you can tell he feels a little more confident now.

The arms that were tightly coiled around his waist have loosened, resting on his legs. His feet are swinging, just barely, and his back has straightened.

A thought comes to mind when you see his shoe begin to slip off his foot.

"How hungry are you?" You ask.

And before he can answer, you hear a rather loud grumbling from his stomach, and a bit of a pained expression falls on his face.

Your smile drops a little. "Well it's good to see you haven't got comfortable with being hungry yet. Come on." You wave him over as you swing the door open. "We're going to get some waffles."

"Waffles?!" You hear from your left.

Leo jumps in surprise, not expecting the voice.

You, however, were expecting it. Counting on it, even. "Yes, Nina. You can come if you want!"

It's faint, but you can hear her go "yes!" and the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. "No need to ask me twice!"

You look at Leo as he approaches the door, hands fidgeting with eachother.

"None of that." You say, tapping his hands, which in turn makes him fling them apart. "When you walk out of here, in front of all those people, pretend to be confident."

His eyebrows knit together, so you take your finger and smooth it out. "You don't have to actually feel confident, but those guys out there? They're vultures, and I dont think you have the heart to take the amount of teasing and bullying they'll inflict on you if they see you fidgeting like that." You grab his shoulders, and watch in amusement as he stiffens into a board. You give him a thumbs up, then tilt his chin parallel to the floor, bringing it out of its nook in his chest. "Fidgeting is reserved for those who have earned their place here, when everyone knows that if they mess with you, you'll hold your ground."

He's sweating, and his eyes are big and wide, but it's a little better than whatever he had going on before.

You usher him out the door, closing it behind you. People are still staring, and others are giving mean side eyes, but you ignore them, smiling at Nina from where she stands by the door.

Her face gets wider when she sees Leo next to you.

"Oh you're the little bugger that had Brekkers panties in a bunch." She leans down, ruffling his hair. "You and I are going to get along swimmingly."

Leo cringes, scrunching in on himself and away from her hand. He's absolutely not pleased, you think, as Nina takes her hand back.

Lazily helping him sort his hair back out, you start to wonder what this kid even likes.

"Nina, this is Leo. Leo, this is Nina, greatest wolf tamer to grace Fjerda's soil."

Nina scoffs, kicking her leg out and knocking your shin with the toe of her boot. "The whole world, thank you very much." She turns out the door, holding it open for you both as you exit.

You do your best to keep the kid close as you make your way through the streets, idly chatting with Nina as you shove Leo around into various alley ways when you see someone you don't have good relations with and pulling him away from an oncoming carriage when he gets lost staring at the boats that roam the canal.

He has to be an artist's son, or maybe a writer's. You don't know anyone who just stops in the middle of the road to look at boats doing their job and floating on water.

It's actually a miracle you make it to the little diner in one piece.

Inside it smells strongly like shitty coffee and various breakfast foods given the hour, much to both you and Nina's delight.

You're just happy to be out of Barrel air for a moment. Even if you were only just across East Stave and a two minute walk would plant you back in the slums, you swear the air quality just immediately skyrockets the second you cross the bridge.

The menus of this place are built into the tables, Grisha engraved into a thin piece of metal while a thick card on a rack displays the specials.

A booth a little ways away from the corner suits your group well, though you do regret not giving Leo a wipe down before coming out here.

It does seem like he attempted to clean himself off. Probably while Kaz was lecturing you. The dirt that was under his fingernails seems to be picked out, and the smudges on his face are considerably fainter.

It's a good thing you didn't walk into one of the nicer diners around here. But from your experience, the shittier the establishment the better their food will taste.

If you don't feel at least a little unsafe walking by it then it's probably not worth the kruge.

You shimmy into one side of the booth first while Nina slides in on the other side. Leo follows after you, sticking as close as he can while still giving you a bit of arm room.

"Alright." You smile, looking at the little breakfast section, scooting in just a bit more so Leo can look at the menu as well. "I know I said waffles, but really you can order anything you like."

"You're paying, yes?" Nina asks.

You roll your eyes. "Yes, Nina. I'm paying. Though do try and feel a little guilty for my poor pocket."

She doesn't say anything, eyes roaming over the whole breakfast section rather than stopping on just the waffles like usual.

Maybe you'll get some lunch to balance out the sugar that's about to grace the table.

The smallest of taps tickles your shoulder. "What's this?"

He's pounting at the menu, the item catching your eye. "Ah, I forgot these places give awful names to their foods. It's an omelet," you clarify, "with little veggies mixed in. Probably cheese in the middle."

His eyes go wide as you mime the size of such a dish with your hand.

"Would you like it?" You ask, gently probing at the little bits of personality that have managed to unravel themselves in the short time you've known him.

He looks at you, hesitant as he nods. "Yes please."

You smile. "Nice choice, kid."

The praise makes him smile, just as a waiter comes and begins to take your orders.

Of course, Nina gets a few plates of waffles with various toppings that she found interesting with a plate of toast, Leo gets his omelet with extra cheese, and you indulge yourself with a pile of hashbrowns and eggs over top.

Mixing it all together on your plate always sends Kaz into a frenzy. You hope he can feel the monstrosity being prepared and weeps at the sin you're about to commit.

"Does that man hate me?" Leo suddenly asks.

You scrunch your brows, discreetly looking around. "What man?"

"That man from before, that yelled at you." He says, rubbing his finger over a fork he received. "Did I get you in trouble?"

Nina chuckles. "Kaz is just like that. Out of everyone in that place your protector here is of the least likely to get in trouble."

You smile at that, thinking of Kaz's tendencies.

What Nina said isn't exactly true. You get in trouble just as much as the rest of them. Kaz just forgives you easier, is more willing to talk and come to a compromise.

Tonight you'll walk into his office and he'll still be steaming, angry at you for not clearing such a major change with him. He'll glance up at you, shoulders stiff and that cavern between his brows only getting deeper.

But if things go right, that edge he has a habit of keeping sharp will dull, his jaw will slacken, and his eyes will soften. He'll still be the hardstrung mini boss hell bent on making up for the past, but he'll settle down in the present for a little while, drinking the warm tea you set on his desk and heart a bit more open to you.

"No, I'm not in trouble." You fix his collar. "Just have some explaining to do."

Leo frowns, opting to pick at the metal menus. His leg is bouncing up at down, temples flexing. "So he is mad at me?"

You glance at Nina. She has a tightness to her lips, not knowing what to say either.

A joke, then. "He's not allowed to be mad at you before he meets you. However, I will be mad at you if you piss yourself in this booth."

His cheeks turn scarlet, not knowing where to look anymore. "I didnt know where the bathroom was."

"It's fine." You look towards the back, pointing to a hallway. "Down there, there's a bathroom. Lock the door behind you and knock before you go in."

He looks a little angry when you say that, but gets up and sulks his way over to the hallway. At least he already knows basic manners, then.

You turn to Nina, a deep sigh escaping your lungs.

She snorts. "I can see you turning older from where you sit."

You kick her foot under the table. "I couldn't leave him. Can you check up on him when we get back to the Club? I don't imagine he'll want me poking around at him trying to find a wound that doesn't exist."

"Seeing as you bought me breakfast, I suppose I have to return the favor."

"Thank you." You grab her hand, the both of you squeezing. "I'm sorry for tricking you."

That makes her let out a belly laugh, a short "ha!" while her cheeks glow. "If your tricks always start out like this then you wont see me complaining. Besides," she looks towards the back of the diner, "he's a cutie. Wouldn't want him dropping dead anytime soon."

"I'm mostly just worried about how calm he is. I mean, would you be this fine with a stranger picking you off the street and taking you to get food?"

Nina sighs, giving your hand another light squeeze. "Im not sure he knows he should be afraid. Which is more of a curse than a blessing. He's what, six?"

"Probably? My oldest quess is seven, but with how small he is compared to how well-mannered he is he could be ten for all I know."

"He'll be fine. And so will you. Just take it as it comes as all the advice I can offer you. He's probably going through shock."

Leo slides back into the booth, hands slightly damp from what you hope is water and not urine. Somehow the food is already done within the short amount of time you order, and a waiter is sliding the dishes onto the table.

The omelet doesn't stand a chance in front of a young boy, and a quarter of it is nearly gone before the waiter leaves.

You spare a glance at Nina, who's looking at the rapidly disappearing slab of eggs with amazement."Well if he wasn't before he definitely is about to be."

-----

You tuck the kid into bed, freshly washed and with a clean set of clothes on his body. His hair was actually a much lighter shade of brown than you thought, and beneath all that grime rested a few freckles and an old scar.

Nina had checked him all over for any sort of injury, and found nothing besides a bit of high blood pressure, which wasn't surprising given he was absolutely starving.

A bit of food in him for the next few months should help tremendously, you think.

He just got done stuffing himself with some soup you made for you and the Crows, ignoring the fact that the Slat was filled to the brim with people who also wanted some. It was enough for them that you pointed to a box of recipes and some spare ingredients, cheers sounding throughout the building.

Kaz had took his and disappeared up to his room before you could say anything, still visibly irritated.

Nina thinks he's about six, which could be why he's relatively quick to trust.

"Are you sure he's not mad at me?" Leo asks, patting down a pillow you just sewed together and bring you out of your thoughts.

You squat by your bed, head in your hands. "Maybe," you sigh. "But it's not from anything you did. He just doesn't like to be mad at me so he's using it up on you."

"Thats not very kind."

You want to wrap this kid up tighter. "No, it's not." Instead you turn the lantern beside your bed down to a very low flame, creating a soft glow throughout the room. "But it's Kaz."

Leo takes that explanation like a champ, like he actually understands what that means, and let's his eyes fall shut.

You pick up the hot tea you made earlier, using your key to lock the door behind you as you make your way over to the attic.

Strangely, you feel anxious as you ascend the stairs. The tea shakes in your hands, rattling a little against the mismatched saucer plate. But you open his door and are met with the exact situation you predicted earlier, your shoulders relaxing.

"Tea will not stave my mood." He turns over a piece of paper, setting down an ink pen.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You set the tea on his desk, avoiding the wells of the door. "I am simply offering a nice cup of tea for my nice boyfriend who is totally not about to shove his nice cane up my nice ass."

"The last place my cane will go is up your ass." He sets the page down, looking up at you. "That's incredibly unsanitary."

You root around on his desk, looking at the various papers he's marking and reading through. "And the blood isn't?

"Arguably easier to clean." He takes a packet out of your hand and replaces it with a different one. "Educate me as to why bringing a child into my club was a smart decision."

Immediately you deflate, falling back into a chair. You cringe when the wood digs into your bones.

Honestly, you already told him everything. He's small, food was available, you had space he could occupy, why not?

"I've already told you, Kaz. I had the ability, and I dont really see a reason why not. Why don't you educate me?"

He looks about ready to strangle something, exasperated sigh shoving it's way out of his lungs.

"What are you going to do on the ocassion he gets in the line of fire? How are you going to react if his parents find him? When they take him back? Can you say with absolute certainty that this child wont destroy you?" He stands with every question, looming over his desk with his hands splayed over the surface.

"Could you have said that about me when we got together?" You counter.

It's a rare thing, to see Kaz go quiet and contemplative.

You don't particularly enjoy it.

"I can't say that should any of those happen I won't be a little devastated. But is it really justifiable to push him out just because he has the potential to hurt me?" You stand too, the packet still in your hand. "As you said, he's my responsibility. When it comes to that, I'll take the fall. You don't have to be as worried as you are-"

"I do." He interrupts. "I do, because he's important to you. And unfortunately our moods and overall state of mind have an overwhelming effect on the other."

You take a moment to look at him, purple blotches under his eyes and his scars highlighted by angle of the light. He's exhausted, and it kind of hurts to realize some of that might have been your fault.

But you're not sorry.

"He thinks you hate him."

"I don't know enough about him to properly hate him."

You smile as he sits down, bringing the cup of tea with him. He's far more relaxed than before, and is just this side of tired that you see his eyelids begin to weigh down, a deep breath is all it takes for the tension to leave his brows completely as the warm beverage meets his mouth. You swear you hear him moan when he feels just how warm it still is.

"Thats what I told him, but I don't think he believes me."

"Suck to suck. Look at the packet."

It's rather thin, you realize, black string tying the pages together. On the front, which you skimmed and didn't really read earlier, it says "Tips for new Adoptees".

On the inside are various tables and notes Kaz seems to have scrounged together, his messy cursive completely filling the pages to the point you have trouble figuring out where a thought ends and another begins.

"Huh." Is all you say, chest heavy and feet scuffing the floor.

You dont... you don't know what to say. You're reading something about how much a child costs but you're not really taking it in. It's more than you could have ever imagined.

Kaz sets the tea down. "I imagine Leo isn't going to be the last. You know where the extra paper is."

He makes your heart so warm. It makes it hard to be annoyed at him for doubting you.

The stairs leading up to the attic creak, and immediately you and Kaz are on guard, your hand moving to your back where little daggers decorate your belt.

Leo's face pops into the room, and you immediately relax, an exasperated sigh exiting your lips. "Hey, Leo. What's going on?"

He inches into the room, hands tentatively still holding onto he door. "I feel bad about going to sleep in your bed. And I wanted to say sorry for doing what I did, Mr. Kaz."

Kaz quirks a brow. "And what is that?"

"Um..." Leo freezes, looking away. "I don't know."

Immediately you look at Kaz, raising your own brow. He gives you a look that you know would kill you if it could, and you smile.

"Leo, come here and meet Kaz." You wave him over, setting the packet aside.

He hesitates, making a move to walk into the room. But when his eyes land on Kaz, he stops.

"He doesnt bite." You try and crack a joke, and while he doesnt laugh, he does drop his shoulders and release the iron grip from the doors side.

Kaz stands and walks around the table, limp pronounced as usual without his cane as Leo closes the door and makes his way across the room.

They stare at eachother for a few moments, coming just a few feet apart behind your chair. You watch their eyes scan over the other, Leo eyeing Kaz's limp and little scars and Kaz inspecting Leo' clothes and the way his ear is slightly folded inwards.

Surprisingly, Kaz offers his gloved hand first, and Leo takes it almost instantly. You watch as they share a firm handshake, nodding at eachother.

"Please to make your anquaintance." There's a slight fumble to Leo's words, and it takes everything in your power to not interrupt their moment and correct him.

But Kaz just nods, releasing their hands. "Pleasure is all mine."

You smile, the little interaction forever cemented into your soul.

Leo definitely isn't going to be the last kid coming through here. Not when Kaz let's a smile pull at his lips just so, and makes a pen appear out of thin air for Leo to look at.

For now, however, this is enough.

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Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kylie18 @morrigan-crowmwell

#ask #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows x reader #six of crows x y/n #six of crows x you #six of crows fanfic #six of crows imagine #grishaverse x you #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse x y/n #fanfic #imaginesfire

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newobsessionweekly · 7 months ago

Text

Diamonds and dreams

Tim Bradford x Buckley!reader

Crossover The Rookie x 911

Fandoms: The Rookie, 911

Summary: Tim teams up with your brother, Buck, to plan the proposal. You get hurt in the process, unintentionally, but it's for a good cause.

A/N: Another crossover, and I don't think I'll stop here. I love so much both Tim and Buck. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this and I'm open for requests! I'm sorry if I made some mistakes while writing, english is not my first language, but I'm trying to improve. Thank you so much for your support so far. Take care of yourselves, bubs! I appreciate everything single one of you! Lots of love! ❤️

Warnings: Swearing ? Maybe. Bunch of fluff and banter anyways. Not proofread yet

Fluff | A bit of angst

Requested: No

Words: 4.9k

Requests are open for Tim and Buck.

GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

For the past three years, your life took unexpected twists, one after one. You didn't know back then how impactful a police officer doing his job would be to your life. You never expected to fall for the all-so-serious officer, whose indignation spoke volumes in the presence of firefighters.

Tim had only one opinion about the other branch of first responders — reckless, not so sharp, and definitely idiots, but they mean well. That was before meeting you.

After a massive earthquake hit LA, the chaos that followed can't be described. People running around looking for the close ones, screaming, and a lot of pain. LAPD was sent on the streets to maintain order while LAFD rushed to rescue everyone in need. They were hand in hand and, for the first time in his life, Tim was following the orders of a firefighter— you.

He complained at first, but when he understood you were more than a reckless woman, he obeyed. Back then, Tim saw in you a seriousness that made him eat his words. The way you pushed yourself aside for the safety of the civilians, the way you disobeyed the book in a risky situation, questioning everything you knew for the people. You allowed him to help, and he was there by your side the whole time, mesmerised by the way you gave everything you had, pushed away any fear and doubts and crawled into wrecked precincts to save every single one of them.

There was a huge difference between the two branches of first responders. LAPD was trained to save the law, maintain order, protect the vulnerable and punish the guilty, while LAFD was trained to protect and save regarding the guilty and they've seen unimaginable things, making them aware the life is short and you need to cherish it every second.

And when you showed him that ugly side of your job, Tim never saw you the same again. Drawn by your determination and dedication to save every soul and by your love and beauty you carried around, he fell for you, hard.

But he never accepted the real dangers of your job. Actually, he never accepted that your dedication was so profound, that you'd give your life to save another without second thoughts. He couldn't bare the thought of losing you some day due to your 'dedication'.

You’re both standing in the middle of the living room, the air thick with tension that’s been building for weeks. Tonight’s argument was inevitable, ignited by the underlying fear and frustration that’s been simmering beneath the surface.

Tim’s heart pounds in his chest as he looks at you, his concern turning into frustration. He knows that firefighting is dangerous, but seeing you take unnecessary risks feels like a constant weight on his shoulders.

“Damn it, Y/N!” he exclaims, his voice loud and filled with anger. “You can’t keep ignoring orders and putting yourself in danger! You’re a firefighter, not a one-woman hero team!”

You clench your fists, feeling defensive, his words sounding like an accusation. “I know what I’m doing, Tim. Sometimes you have to take risks to save lives.”

“Fire isn’t something predictable,” Tim interjects, his voice firm. “When you're dealing with an armed suspect, you can see the next move in his eyes. But with fire? It's nothing like that and, when it happens, it's probably too late."

His words cut deep, and tears fill your eyes as you try to make him understand. You feel misunderstood, judged, and it hurts.

“Predictable or not, I trust my instincts,” you shoot back, your voice shaking. “Sometimes you have to go with your gut, Tim, not just follow orders blindly.”

"But at what cost?” Tim retorts, his face flushed with frustration. “How many times do we have to argue about this before you realize that you’re not invincible?”

Your eyes fill with tears, the weight of his words hitting you hard. “I’m not saying I’m invincible,” you reply, tears streaming down your face. “I just believe in doing whatever it takes to save lives, even if it means bending the rules sometimes.”

“Bending the rules?” Tim’s voice cracks, hurt evident in his expression. “Y/N, this isn’t a game. Lives are at stake, including yours!”

You’re openly crying now, the tears blurring your vision as you try to make him understand. “I need you to trust me, Tim. Trust that I know what I’m doing.”

“I need to be able to trust that you’ll come home safely,” Tim says, his voice softer now, filled with genuine concern. “I can’t keep worrying every time you’re on shift, wondering if you’re going to make it home in one piece.”

"But this is who I am, Tim. I can’t change that.”

Tim’s thoughts swirl with a mix of love, fear, and frustration as he watches you, torn between wanting to protect you and knowing he can’t control your choices. “I need some time to think,” he finally says, his voice filled with resignation.

Without another word, you grab your bag and head for the door, leaving Tim standing alone in the living room, his face a mask of regret and worry. As you make your way to Lucy’s apartment, the weight of the argument pressing down on you, you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed between you and Tim, something that might be impossible to repair.

You stand before Lucy’s door, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks streaked with tears. With a shaky breath, you knock softly as your heart is pounding in your chest. The door swings open to reveal Lucy’s shocked face, her eyes widening at your disheveled appearance.

“Y/N? What the hell happened?” Lucy’s voice is filled with concern as she wraps you in a comforting embrace, feeling the tension in your body.

Tamara rushes in, eyes wide with worry. "Are you okay?”

As Lucy's comforting embrace envelops you, a mixture of relief and despair washes over you. You lean into her warmth, grateful for the solace she provides amidst the chaos of your emotions. Tamara's worried expression only adds to the weight of the situation, highlighting the gravity of the rift between you and Tim.

"I’m so sorry,” you stammer, tears threatening anew. “I didn’t know where else to go. I can't go to Buck like this and –"”

Lucy steps back, creating space for you to enter, "You're always welcome here, Y/N. You know that."

Lucy leads you to the couch and wraps her arm around your shoulders as you found a small measure of comfort in her presence. The unspoken understanding between you eases some of the ache in your heart, reminding you that you're not alone in this struggle.

Tamara places a comforting hand on your knee, her eyes filled with empathy as Lucy spoke, “Come on, tell us what happened."

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady your voice as you recount the intense argument with Tim. “We had a fight, a really bad one. He said he needed some time to think.”

Your love for Tim is boundless, a deep-rooted connection that fills your heart with warmth and joy. Every moment spent with him is a treasure, each shared smile and whispered promise a testament to the depth of your affection. And being so far from him, it was a nightmare. Leaving so abruptly, both of your anger and frustration bottled inside, this tore you apart.

Tamara’s eyes narrow, her tone incredulous. “Tim said that? What could possibly have happened?”

“He thinks I’m reckless, that I put myself and my team in danger,” you explain, the sting of his words still fresh in your mind.

The pain of your fight weighs heavily on your soul, a sharp ache that refuses to fade. His words cut deep, leaving you reeling with a sense of loss and betrayal. The thought of losing him, of facing a future without his love, is almost unbearable.

Lucy shakes her head, her eyes filled with empathy. “Tim’s always been by-the-book. He values rules and order. But being a firefighter isn’t always black and white.”

You nod, wiping away tears with the back of your hand. “Exactly. But he just won't listen.”

Lucy sighs, her eyes softening with understanding. “Tim loves you. He’s just scared. Scared of losing you.” She can see the pain in your eyes, the uncertainty about the future of your relationship.

“I know,” you sniffle, trying to hold back the tears. “But it’s not just about him being scared. It’s about understanding who I am and what I do.”

Tamara nods, her expression thoughtful. “Sometimes love isn’t enough, Y/N. Sometimes two people can love each other deeply but still be incompatible in some ways.”

“I don’t want to lose him,” you say, feeling the weight of her words. “But I also don’t want to lose myself.” You grapple with the conflicting emotions, torn between love and self-respect.

Lucy chuckles softly, trying to lighten the mood. She stands up, heading to the kitchen to prepare some tea. “You won't lose him. He’s stubborn as hell, but he loves you. You know that."

Tamara smirks, leaning back on the couch. “Well, men are from Mars, right? We’ll never fully understand them.”

Lucy laughs, raising her hands in mock surrender. “True that. But hey, if anyone can knock some sense into Tim, it’s you, Y/N.”

Tamara smirks, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she leans back on the couch. “You know, Y/N, I like you more and more. Just so you know, everything you’ve said tonight will be used against Tim tomorrow.” She winks playfully, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Lucy’s going to make his shift a living hell.”

Lucy chuckles, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Oh, you bet I will. He won’t know what hit him.” She laughs, the tension in the room further dissipating with their playful banter.

You can’t help but laugh along with them, grateful for the light-hearted moment amidst the emotional chaos. “Just promise me you’ll go easy on him. He’s still my guy, after all.”

Yet, even in the midst of your despair, your love for him remains steadfast. It is a beacon of hope in the darkness, a guiding light that keeps you tethered to him, even when the distance between you feels insurmountable.

Tamara raises an eyebrow, her grin widening. “No promises,” Lucy says with a playful shrug.

You shake your head, chuckling at their antics. “Alright, alright. Just remember, I’ll have to deal with him after you two are done.”

After a moment of silence, Tamara's face brightens, an idea forming. “You know what we need? A girls’ night. We could all use a little distraction, right?”

Lucy grins, nodding in agreement. “Absolutely. Some wine, some movies, and some girl talk. It’s just what the doctor ordered.”

You smile weakly, grateful for their support. “That sounds nice.”

Meanwhile, across town, Tim and Buck find themselves in the comfort of Tim's living room. With beers in hand and the soft glow of the TV providing background noise, both men seem to have left the weight of the day behind them, engrossed in their own world of laughter and banter.

But Tim's thoughts are consumed by the image of you, tears staining your cheeks as you walked out the door. Each memory of your tearful departure cuts him deeply, a sharp pang of guilt and sorrow gnawing at his heart.

Buck takes a swig of his beer, glancing over at him with a curious expression. “So, how did the fight go?”

Tim sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I think I overstepped a little. She was crying and she left. It broke me to see her like that and let her go."

Seeing you hurt because of him breaks him in ways he never imagined. He would give anything to erase the hurt he's caused, to mend the fractures in your relationship. But he knows that sometimes love requires sacrifice, even if it means bearing the weight of your pain.

Buck nods understandingly, setting his beer down on the coffee table. "It's all part of the plan, Tim. We knew it would be tough, but it's for the best." He tries to reassure Tim, understanding the struggle his friend is going through.

Tim looks at Buck, gratitude in his eyes. "I know, I know. It's just hard, you know? Seeing her hurt and knowing I'm the cause of it, even if it's for a good reason."

Buck places a comforting hand on Tim's shoulder. "At least this will buy us some time. Where's she now?"

Tim smiles slightly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "At Lucy's. She texted me when Y/N got there. She'll be crashing on Lucy's couch."

Buck chuckles, picking up his beer again. "Good, at least she's safe. Lucy will take care of her. She always does."

Tim nods, a grateful smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, Lucy's been great. I'm glad she's there for Y/N."

The two men sit in companionable silence for a moment, the weight of their secret plan hanging in the air between them. It's a plan born out of love and a desire to create the perfect proposal for you, but it comes with its own set of challenges and emotions.

Buck's voice is filled with excitement. "You know, once all of this is over, and you've proposed, it's going to be amazing. Y/N is going to be over the moon."

Tim smiles, the vision of his future with you filling his mind. "I know, Buck. I can't wait to make her my wife."

Amidst the pain, there's a profound love that anchors him, a love so deep it eclipses the darkness of your current strife. You're more than just his partner; you're his rock, his solace, his reason for waking up each day with a smile. Your laughter brightens his darkest moments, your touch soothes his weary soul, and your presence fills his life with a sense of purpose and joy he never thought possible.

The two men raise their beers in a toast, their smiles reflecting the hope and love that fills their hearts.

Tim glances over at Lucy, his voice filled with concern. "How's Y/N holding up? I haven't heard from her since that night."

He can't shake the self-loathing that grips him, the regret for letting things escalate to this point.

Lucy raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. "A bit pissed at you, but she's safe."

"I hate myself for that. I really don't like this whole...situation. Especially letting her go and forcing her to sleep on your couch."

He never wanted to hurt you, never intended for things to unravel like this. And the idea of you sleeping on Lucy's couch, away from him, fills him with a sense of emptiness he can't bear.

She chuckles softly, her tone teasing. "You could've called, you know. Women like that kind of thing."

Tim lets out a sigh, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I figured as much. I just thought... well, some space might be good."

Lucy's teasing only adds to his discomfort, her playful jabs hitting a little too close to home. He knows he should have done a lot of things, but fear and uncertainty held him back, clouding his judgment with doubt.

Lucy raises an eyebrow, “Space, huh? Sounds like a classic Bradford move. But you might want to pick up the phone. Y/N deserves to know you’re not pushing her away.”

Tim chuckles, shaking his head. "Trust me, I plan to. I just needed some time to... you know, plan everything out, to get it right."

Lucy grins, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "But you better make this worth it, you hear me?" She nudges him playfully. "And soon. She might love you and might be willing to wait for you, but don't test her patience."

Tim smiles, gratitude evident in his gaze. "I will, Lucy. And thanks, for everything."

Lucy waves him off with a chuckle. "Don't mention it. Just remember to thank me after she says yes." She winks at him, her smile warm and supportive.

You've been camping on the girls' couch for the past three days. It wasn't all that bad; some time off work was just what you needed, and your fight with Tim allowed you to sort through some old stuff.

When you were about to drift off to sleep again, Lucy burst into the living room. "Alright, couch potato, time to get up!”

You groaned, pulling a pillow over your face. “Five more minutes, Lucy.”

With a chuckle, Lucy yanked the pillow away and extended her hand. “Come on, Y/N. It’s time to get some fresh air. You can’t stay on my couch forever.”

Reluctantly, you accepted Lucy’s help to sit up. “What happened to ‘you’re always welcome here’? My free stay at Hotel Lucy is over?”

Lucy laughed. “Exactly. It’s check-out time, Missy.”

You smirked, slipping on your sneakers. "Well, send the bill to Bradford; he's the only one at fault for this."

With her keys in hand, Lucy grinned. “How about a ride along? A little patrol action might be good for you.”

Raising an eyebrow teasingly, you countered, “Trying to get rid of me, Lucy?”

She chuckled. “Just trying to help you get some fresh air. And maybe a little distraction.”

As you reluctantly rose from the comfort of Lucy's couch, a whirlwind of emotions churned within you. The past few days had been a rollercoaster of hurt, confusion, and a desperate longing to mend things with Tim. But amidst the chaos, there was a glimmer of hope – hope that today could mark the beginning of reconciliation, of healing the wounds that had torn you apart.

“Alright, alright. But only because I’m craving some fresh, questionable coffee from the station.”

“Deal. But you’re buying the donuts!” Lucy teased.

“Deal. But only if they have sprinkles.”

Suddenly, Lucy stopped and appraised you, shaking her head. “Oh no, no. You can’t possibly leave the house like that. Off to the shower with you, you’re starting to smell like my couch.”

Stepping into the shower, the warm water washing away the remnants of doubt and insecurity as you made a silent vow to yourself. Today would be the beginning of a new chapter for you both, a chance to rebuild what had been broken and to forge a stronger, more resilient bond.

You returned to find some of your clothes laid out on the couch, courtesy of Lucy and Tamara. Raising an eyebrow, you turned to Lucy. “Don’t you think that’s a little bit extra?”

It wasn't exactly what you'd wear for patrolling, but considering Tim probably handed them to Lucy, you couldn't really complain.

Just then, Tamara emerged from her bedroom with a smirk. “You should be thankful I didn’t pick the outfit.”

You chuckled, wondering why she wasn’t at school. “Fair enough. Shouldn’t you be at school by now?”

Tamara waved it off, pulling out her makeup kit. “I’ll miss the first period to do your makeup. You owe me.”

Sighing, you looked between Lucy and Tamara. “Come on, girls. It’s just a day of patrolling. Nothing special.”

Lucy shook her head, her eyes serious. “No, hun. Today you’ll be right next to Tim. Breathing in his neck. You need to show him what he’s missing.”

The engine's soft hum reverberates through the car as Tim navigates the streets, the tension inside as thick as the fog rolling in from the bay. Lucy rides shotgun, her mischievous glances back at you adding to the palpable unease. Seated in the back, you stare out the window, attempting to distract yourself with the passing scenery, anything to escape the suffocating silence.

Lucy's voice cuts through the tension like a knife, her cheeriness a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere. "Hey, Bradford," she chirps. "How about we make a quick stop for some coffee and donuts? My treat."

Tim's eyes flicker to the rearview mirror, briefly meeting yours before he nods. "Sure, sounds good."

Pulling into a local coffee shop's parking lot, Lucy practically leaps out of the car, leaving you and Tim alone for a fleeting moment.

"You could've called," you murmur softly, finally breaking the suffocating silence. "Three days, Tim."

Tim's grip tightens on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. "I know, Y/N. I'm sorry. It's... it's complicated."

Before you can delve deeper, Lucy returns with a tray laden with coffee and a box of donuts. She hands you a cup before settling into her seat, her eyes glinting with an inscrutable knowingness.

As Tim lifts his coffee to his lips, you notice the slight tremble in his hand. "Everything okay, Tim?" Lucy inquires, her innocence a thin veil over her ulterior motives.

Tim clears his throat, averting his gaze. "Yeah, just a bit tired, I guess."

Lucy's smirk is unmistakable as she reaches for a donut. "Well, these should help with that."

Taking a sip of your coffee, you feel its warmth spreading through you, but it does little to dispel the tension in the air. However, there's a shift—a subtle change in the atmosphere. The silence is no longer suffocating; instead, it's pregnant with anticipation, each breath heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, Tim speaks, his voice laced with vulnerability. "Y/N, about the fight... I never meant to hurt you. I just needed some time to sort things out."

You meet his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes tugging at something deep within you. There's a weight to his words, a heaviness that speaks volumes about the distress he's been wrestling with.

As the shop continues its journey, the tension remains, but it's tempered now by a sense of curiosity and cautious hope. Unbeknownst to you, Tim's anxiety isn't solely about your relationship, and Lucy's scheming grin betrays her satisfaction with how her plan is unfolding.

Throughout the day, Tim's behavior had been perplexing, he carefully avoided any calls that hinted at danger. It felt as though he was intentionally shielding you from harm, a protective barrier wrapped around you even as you yearned for the adrenaline rush of the job.

But the tranquility of the day shattered with Nolan's urgent call for backup. The gravity of the situation hit you like a sledgehammer, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Dispatch, this is Officer Nolan, requesting backup at my location. Officers under fire, need immediate assistance,” Nolan’s voice is clear and urgent.

Without hesitation, Tim accepts the call, urgency in his voice for the first time that day. “Roger that, Nolan. We’re en route.”

Tim accelerates towards the scene, the Griffith Observatory coming into view. The iconic building stands majestically atop the hill, its silhouette against the clear blue sky adding a surreal beauty to the unfolding situation.

As you arrived on the scene, the deafening sound of gunfire filled the air, drowning out any semblance of normalcy. Lucy and Tim sprang into action, their movements swift and purposeful as they navigated the chaos.

"Stay in the car, Y/N!" Tim's command pierced through the chaos, his tone leaving no room for debate.

But as you sat there, the abrupt silence that followed sent a chill down your spine. Lucy's panicked cry for Tim shattered the stillness, sending your heart into overdrive, “Bradford!”

Ignoring Tim's orders, you bolted from the shop, desperation fuelling your every step. The scene before you was a tableau of chaos and confusion, the beauty of the Observatory juxtaposed against the violence that unfolded within its walls.

You searched frantically for any sign of Tim or Lucy, all you found was Tim's abandoned radio, a silent witness to the turmoil that had unfolded.

The setting sun cast long shadows, casting an eerie glow over the scene, a reminder of the fragility of life in the face of danger. And the tension is electric, like the calm before a storm. Tim’s voice crackles through the radio, cutting through the silence.

“Y/N Buckley, can you hear me?"

Tim's heart races with anticipation as he waits for your response. He's nervous, hoping that you'll hear him clearly. He wonders if you'll be able to sense the nerves in his voice, hoping that you'll understand the significance of what he's about to do.

Grinning, you grab the radio. “Loud and clear, Bradford” you replied, your voice steady but your pulse quickening with each passing second.

A pause stretches out, thick with anticipation. “Close your eyes, Buckley. And this time, try not to defy a direct order.”

Rolling your eyes but intrigued, you humor him and shut your eyes, taking a deep breath of the crisp air, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. You focused on the sound of Tim's voice, letting it wash over you like a warm embrace as he began to speak.

"You and I, Y/N, we’re a wild ride,” Tim starts, his voice unexpectedly tender. “Who would’ve thought our journey would lead us here, to this crazy, beautiful moment?”

As Tim's voice crackled through the radio, a surge of nervous energy swept through him. He had rehearsed his words a thousand times in his mind, but now that the moment was upon him, he couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt.

The weight of the ring in his hand served as a reminder of the gravity of the situation, filling him with both excitement and trepidation.

A soft touch grazes your hand, sending a thrill up your spine. Your heart pounds in your chest.

“You challenge me, drive me nuts, and somehow make me a better man,” he continues through the radio, a hint of a smile in his voice. “And damn it, I love you for it.”

You can’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you. As you listen, you feel tears prickling at the corners of your closed eyes. Tim's words resonate with you, stirring something within yourself that you can't quite put into words.

You want to open your eyes, to see the man you love more clearly, but you also want to savor this moment a little while longer.With each word, you feel your heart swell with love for Tim. His vulnerability, his honesty, it all takes your breath away, leaving you utterly captivated.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart," Tim's voice breaks through your reverie, pulling you back to the present moment.

With a flutter of excitement, you obey, slowly parting your eyelids to reveal the sight before you. There is Tim, his eyes filled with love and longing as he slowly kneels down before your eyes, a small velvet box in his hand. The sight of him, vulnerable and trembling, fills you with a sense of awe and gratitude as the setting sun casts a golden halo around him, the cityscape stretching out behind him in a breathtaking panorama.

Tears of joy well in your eyes as you take in the sight of the ring in his hand, your heart overflowing with love for the man who means the world to you.

“Y/N Buckley,” Tim’s voice wavers just a bit, “will you marry me?”

For a moment, you are stunned into silence, your mind reeling with the weight of his question. You feel a surge of emotion welling up inside, threatening to spill over at any moment. This is it, the moment you've been dreaming of, the moment you've been waiting for since you laid eyes on Tim, few years back.

Tim chuckles, a nervous but endearing laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

"Yes, Tim. A thousand times, yes!" your voice choked with tears, as your words ring out into the night, a declaration of love and commitment that echoes through the air.

With a trembling hand, Tim slips the ring onto your finger, sealing their promise with a simple yet profound gesture. As your eyes meet once more, you share a moment of perfect understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the love that binds you together.

Without another word, you're in each other's arms, holding onto each other tightly as if trying to make up for all the time you've lost. In that moment, nothing else matters but the overwhelming love you share, a love that has weathered every storm and emerged stronger than ever before.

Tim's lips meet yours in a tender kiss, a sweet yet passionate embrace that speaks volumes more than words ever could. You cling to each other, lost in the intensity of your emotions, your hearts beating as one in the darkness.

As you pull away, breathless and flushed with emotion, you share a smile that lights up the night. In each other's arms, you find solace and strength, knowing that no matter what the future holds, you'll face it together, hand in hand, heart to heart.

Nolan chimes in through the radio, his voice filled with laughter. "Bradford, are we breaking out the champagne or what?"

Tim's smile widens at Nolan's words, and he glances over at you with a playful twinkle in his eye. "Hold off on the champagne, Nolan," he replies, unable to suppress a laugh. "She said yes."

Murmuring softly, Tim leaned in close to your ear. "I guess I didn’t mess this one up, huh?"

You chuckled softly, leaning into his embrace. "Not this time, Bradford."

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theclownghoul · 4 days ago

Text

Arcane Season 2 has me messed up and not in a good way

It’s actually breaking my heart that I don’t love this show anymore.

I don’t want to hate it, there’s pieces I love but there’s also pieces I hate. Act l had me in such high hopes and then it stuttered then crashed and burned.

I just feel so disappointed with so many parts of it. Actively angry at others.

There are some moments that I loved that had me feeling the same high as the first season but every time I thought things would develop better they didn’t.

I think I’m only really happy with Ekko and I was worried about him for much of the season. As an Ekko and Jinx shipper I was pleased with most of their story but the way they ended Jinx’s story undermined the importance of their talk so…

Honestly I would trade all the ship stuff for a proper story arc for Vi, Jinx, Cait and the rest

I saw the signs for Vi as soon as her pit fighter arc didn’t extend passed the promo clips. I kept waiting to delve into her issues but that never came.

Jinx was done so dirty. And this was something I prayed wouldn’t happen. She’s so personal to me in ways that would take too long to go into here. I had high hopes for her, especially after Isha and her starting to move forward, I knew it wouldn’t last but I knew (hoped) it would be interesting. I fully expected Isha to die but the way it happened was so weird?? The scene itself felt like it was manipulating me which is something I hate with a passion.

Likewise I expected her to relapse into suicidality after that and I had suspected that the scene with Ekko would happen. Her scene with Vi beforehand hurt in a good way and I wanted to watch as she hit rock bottom then clawed her way back as she started to mend the broken relationships in her life.

The thing that finally set me off was her hair. I thought she would cut it after she decided to live, as a show a change but before was just so cliché (it did look cute but don’t go trying to distract me)

I really didn’t want people blaming Vi for Jinx running off to try to end herself again. And I didn’t, even though I knew something was wrong about the way the scene played out and lead into the sex scene. I knew something was wrong I was just hoping that I was wrong.

I was so looking forward to the CaitVi sex scene, since King Princess was revealed for the soundtrack. Hoping her and Cait would have a real ass conversation, a hard conversation and then get that moment together but it just felt wrong. I wanted to love it but I didn’t. As a King Princess fan I was so excited but all I feel now is at best apathy and at worst anger. The more I read from lesbians in the fandom and those that care for Vi how I care for Jinx the worse I feel.

Briefly let’s talk about Cait. I was interested in her arc after Act l. Messy it would be and a long road back for sure but I had hope. She was done dirty too.

Back to Jinx…. What the fuck was that ending? Her “sacrifice” felt so similar to her fights with Vi (Act l) and Ekko (S1) where she was going to let herself die. No growth from the rest of the season, that’s how they left us, that’s what they did to a character that they did so beautifully in S1. I don’t care if she’s alive, that’s not a fucking ending.

(Apologies for continuing to bring up my predictions. I just think it’s funny how my thoughts make more sense than what we got)

I didn’t mind the idea of her sacrificing herself for Vi, Arcane is a tragedy after all. Her being the one to protect her sister in the end not because she thought Vi was better off without her but because Vi protects everyone and her sister can help now would have been great.

But that ending rubbed me wrong in every way.

The story of these sisters meant everything to me and what a fool we all were to think it was in competent hands. Like seriously I can’t believe this is the same writing team.

All of us went in with high hopes and then had those hopes crushed.

I’ve seen so many people who were excited to react and analyze go radio silent after Act ll and I hope they stay that way. I’d love to change my mind but I don’t think I can. I don’t think there’s any coming back.

I wanted to take the good moments and leave it alone but I keep feeling the disappointment because the show’s first season left a mark on me that I’ll treasure forever and I can’t let go. I still have so many feelings about this. Piltover and Zaun, Victor and Jayce, Mel and Ambessa, admittedly not my area of expertise but safe to say they all deserved better and we deserved better.

I would say it felt like a fanfic but I know fans have more grace and respect for this story.

This is not the tragedy I signed up for.

#this is dragging me down man #and I know I’m not the only one #i just needed to get this out #I don’t post much but here goes #arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane criticism #vi arcane #jinx arcane #caitlyn arcane #ekko arcane #caitvi #timebomb #arcane spoilers

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sh4wty18 · 6 months ago

Note

can you please do jake webber best friends to lovers. like jakes been y/ns best friend since they were kids and neither of them knew they liked eachother until they went to a party and all that. and then add some cute lil smut in there as well but theyre both virgins. ❤️thank uuu:)

omg im so sorry for the delayed response, i was not motivated to write for a while! i hope you enjoy :)

best friend.

pairing: jake webber x reader

summary: same as request except i didn't include the smut <3

cw: fluff, language, alcohol, some spice/suggestive ending but nothing too crazy

word count: 2.5k + edited

---

Since your childhood, Jake has been your best friend. You’d grown up together in Kansas, and being the only two “alternative” people at your middle and high schools, you stuck together. He’d always been the person you leaned on, and you were the same for him. Time didn’t seem to exist when you two were together, you could talk for hours and never get bored. Both your parents had expected you to end up dating eventually, and were shocked that after over ten years, it still hadn’t happened. But everyone always said you were soulmates, in one way or another.

When Jake got famous, you were so proud of him. It had been his dream for years, he’d been posting little vlogs for a while, and sometimes you were even featured in them. But meeting Sam & Colby had caused his career to skyrocket. Then he moved to LA to keep pursuing his dream, and of course you supported him. You wanted all the success in the world for him, so you said goodbye.

You made a point to visit him as often as possible, which he loved. You loved seeing him, and sometimes being featured in his videos. Being a side character in his on-screen persona had garnered you your own little fandom, and people loved seeing “with y/n!” attached to his video titles. Being famous was never your “thing”, though; it was Jake’s, and you respected him for it. You were happy with your small subset of fans, and couldn’t imagine constantly being scrutinized by millions of people. Jake’s rising stardom had no effect on your friendship, and now, after many long years of hard work, he is finally gaining the recognition you had hoped he’d receive since you were kids.

With his newfound rise in fame came more money, and in turn, a bigger house in LA. Some time after his break up with Tara, Jake had asked you to move in with him and Johnnie. You worked from home, and had been visiting him so much that you practically lived with him part-time already, so of course you’d said yes.

What he didn’t know was that for the last three years, you have been completely and hopelessly in love with him. You didn’t know why or when it started, really. You just knew that one day, seeing him kiss Tara made you want to rip your heart out. Obviously you never told him, you could never do that to him. He was in love with Tara, and you loved and respected him too much to ever come between them. You had also become friends with Tara, and would never want to hurt her. So you yearned in silence, fully believing you were going to go to take your feelings to the grave. Their breakup was unexpected, and despite being irrevocably in love with Jake, you weren’t happy about it. Seeing your best friend in pain was the worst feeling ever, so you made sure to help him through all the ups and downs until he and Tara were comfortably friends again.

Moving in with him may not have been the best thing for your romantic feelings, but your friendship is stronger than ever. You are constantly together, and knowing how affectionate the two of you are, you’re always touching, too. Whether it be a finger linked through the belt loop, hands intertwined, leaning on each other’s shoulder, hugging from behind, or cuddled up on the couch, you always have to have your hands on each other. Jake wasn’t very drawn to physical touch with many people, only his closest friends, which made you feel special. You loved that the only people he acted like this with were you and Johnnie. And even though he was touchy with Johnnie, it was nowhere near the level of touchiness he had with you. Some people say your relationship is weird, too close, or codependent, but you guys just laugh it off. You didn’t care if people understood, you loved each other, full stop.

For the past three years you have wanted more, desperately so. But you knew that Jake didn’t feel the same, so learning how to separate your romantic and platonic feelings for him was a challenge. You would never want to do anything to potentially ruin your perfect friendship, though, so you learned quickly.

This would all change tonight.

You and Jake had been curled up in his bed together under a mountain of fluffy blankets, watching one of your favorite movies, when he turned to you.

“Tara is having a party tonight at her place, if you wanna be my plus one,” He smiled, always excited to ask you to be his plus one to events.

One of the many life changes that occurred when you moved to LA was that you were now roped into “events” way more often than you were used to. Whether it be casual parties, brand deal socials, or filming videos, you were involved in more social interaction than you’d ever been exposed to back home. You were much more introverted than Jake, and the changes were sudden, but you were slowly getting the hang of it. Plus, Jake loved when you were involved, he wanted you to be there. You loved making him happy, so you were hardly one to say no. That being said, the once small group of fans you’d garnered from being featured in Jake’s early videos was not-so-little anymore, and you were gaining quite the following. This had never been the life you’d wanted per se, but it was growing on you.

You turned your head towards Jake’s and smiled back at him, “Of course I’ll go with you.”

He blushed, “Yayyyy, I love my best friend!” He squealed in a silly high pitched voice, and you giggled. You wrapped your arm around his waist and buried your head against his neck, spooning him for the rest of the movie.

After it ended you let go of his waist to go get ready for the party, which elicited a whine from Jake, “Aww, I was comfy,” He pouted and let out a huff.

You laugh, “We can cuddle later! I have to go get sexy for tonight,” You joke.

“You always look sexy, we’re wasting valuable bestie nap time,” he gave you puppy eyes, and you blushed. It was the first time he’d ever called you sexy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” You giggle, and look away, trying to hide your pink cheeks and hot ears.

“Look at you like what?” He asks innocently, continuing to give you his biggest, prettiest puppy eyes.

“Shut up,” You laugh, swatting your hand at him as you walk towards the door.

“Hate you!” He shouts after you as you walk across the hall toward your bedroom.

“Hate you more!” You yell back.

–

Two hours later, you’re finally completely ready for the party. You took an ‘everything shower’, applied a full face of your favorite glam makeup, painted your nails, and put on a brand new lacy, skin-tight, black dress. You emerge from your bedroom and walk back across the hall to Jake’s room, knocking on the door.

He opens it and stares at you in awe. He could hardly stop his jaw from dropping as he got his first look at you, and you giggle with embarrassment.

“Hi,” You say, cheeks blushing.

“Hi,” He responds, still looking you up and down, unable to tear his eyes away from your body. “You look incredible.”

You let out a modest scoff and look away, “Stop it.”

“I mean it, y/n! You are… stunning.”

He makes eye contact with you as he thoughtfully lands on the last word, stunning. You feel a wide grin spread across your face, the rosy hue in your cheeks definitely deepening even more, but for some reason, you weren’t embarrassed anymore, only confident.

“Thanks, Jakey. You don’t look so bad yourself,” You say, finally eyeing him up in the same way he’d done to you. He was wearing low waisted baggy jeans and a cropped baby tee, showcasing the star tattoos traveling down his v-line. Your eyes lingered there for a second too long, and you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining kissing each of those stars before wrapping your mouth around his cock.

He caught the glint in your eye and leaned against the door frame, smirking down at you, “Like what you see?” he teased, casually placing a hand in his pocket.

You feel yourself blushing again, but you stay strong, taking a step closer and smiling up at him, “Maybe I do.”

He maintains eye contact with you for a few seconds, and before you know it you’re competing, seeing who will break the awkward sexual tension first.

He breaks, and his smug smirk falls into a grin as he playfully pushes your forehead away from him, “C’mon ya freak, let’s go to the party,” He laughs.

You walk the few blocks to Tara’s house, listening to Jake rant about one of his recent hyperfixations. You loved listening to him rant. He wasn’t a big talker, and usually you were the one who did the majority of the ranting in your friendship, but sometimes Jake would allow himself to rant about something he loved. He only did it with people he was super comfortable with, and it wasn’t too often, even then. But tonight, he must have been in an extra good mood, because he talked the entire walk. You smiled, and nodded, and asked him questions, which he loved, both because it signified to him that he wasn’t boring you, and because it meant he got to keep talking about something he enjoyed. You loved seeing him like this, bubbly and excited and blabbing on and on about a show you’d never even heard of. When you finally arrived at Tara’s house, he turned to you and said, “Woah, I really just talked that entire time about Peaky Blinders, didn’t I?”

“Yup. But don’t worry, I love hearing your voice,” You smile, and he grins down at you.

“I love hearing your voice too, y/n.”

You knock on Tara’s door, and she opens within seconds. “Jake! Y/n! Welcome!! It’s so good to see you guys, you both look amazing!” She pulls you both into quick hugs and you follow behind her into the packed house. She had cleared out some of the furniture for a makeshift dance floor, and people were definitely putting it to use. She led you to the kitchen where you spotted bottles of liquor littered throughout. “Help yourself!” She shouted over the loud Ice Spice song that was currently playing, and walked away to greet more guests.

You and Jake shared a look, already knowing this party was going to be overstimulating unless you got some alcohol in your systems ASAP. He poured you both a shot of whatever was closest and shouted “Cheers!” before you both downed them.

It only took a few drinks for you both to start feeling warm and buzzed. You grab his hand and begin leading him to the dance floor, social anxiety be damned.

“Y/n are we actually about to dance right now?” Jake asked from behind you, and when you turned to face him, you saw a big, stupid grin on his face.

“Yes, Jake! I want to throw ass with my best friend, since when is that a crime?” You shout back dramatically, still tugging on his hand.

He suddenly yanks your hand, pulling your body closer to his. In one swift motion, he’s wrapped your arm around the back of his neck, while his hands grip your hips tightly, steadying your body in front of him. He leans into your neck, lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “Ya know, I meant what I said earlier… you look beautiful.”

You sigh at his words, leaning your head back to rest against his chest. You pull his neck closer, forcing his head down so you can whisper back, “I- I don’t just want to be your best friend anymore.”

“I know,” He says, “I think… I think a part of me has always known. It was always going to be you, I just couldn’t see it yet. But I do now and… and I want you so bad-” You cut him off, closing whatever little space was left between your mouths, taking in all of him. You had imagined this situation millions of times– what it would feel like to envelope your lips in his. Were they soft? Warm? Was he messy or gentle? For years, you had fantasized about this moment, never thinking it’d actually happen. Yet here you are, finally. Kissing your best friend. And it was better than you could have ever dreamed, like a drug. As soon as you got a taste, you craved more. You swiveled your body so you were facing him, and his hands moved up and down your back and further down to squeeze your ass. You lifted yourself onto your tiptoes, bringing yourself even closer to him, hands tangling through his hair, as if in a desperate attempt to swallow him whole. One word rang out in your head over and over: more.

You broke away eventually, gasping for breath, but he didn’t stop. Instead he moved down your jawline, sloppily kissing anywhere his lips landed, letting out soft grunts as he made his way down your neck, stopping to suck on a particularly sensitive area where he noticed your breath catch.

“Wait,” You said, and he immediately stopped, placing a hand on your cheek.

“What is it? I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” He asks, genuine concern painting his face.

“No, no! I just… I wanna make sure you mean it. You’re not just saying this because we’re tipsy, right? Because it’s real for me. You’re my best friend, Jake, and you always will be. But… I wanna be more. I wanna be yours.”

His face softens and he leans in to kiss you gently now, his hand still cradling your cheek. “Y/n, I promise, you are mine. And I’m yours. I’ve been yours since the day you moved in. I might be tipsy, but I’m still aware of what’s going on. I swear, I want this. I want you. Only you.”

Tears well in your eyes and he wipes them away, “Don’t cry, angel.”

“I just really love you.” You say, and the biggest smile you’ve ever seen spreads across his face.

“I really love you, too. God, I’ve wanted to say that for so long,” He lets out a relieved sigh.

You lower your voice to a whisper against his ear, “I really think we should get out of here. You look so fucking sexy.” You’re the one kissing down his neck now, and he breathes out “Fuck.”

You lead him through the crowd again, this time toward the front door. An Irish goodbye would have to do– being socially unacceptable would be worth it to be naked in his arms.

---

this piece marks the end of my writing block! i have so many good johnnie requests from you guys that i'm excited to get working on :) as always likes and reblogs are appreciated!

#sh4wty18 #original one shot #original fiction #one shot #fluff #fluffy one shot #jake webber #jake webber x reader #jake webber x you #jake webber fluff #jake webber fanfiction #jake webber fanfic

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nikethestatue · 6 months ago

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Having been in this fandom for a long time, I think what's become apparent--and I think that's where most of our problems stem from--is that PERSONAL INTERPRETATION has become the default thing to fall back onto, and consequently, it's been used over and over again to negate or disregard the author's INTENT, because it doesn't align with personal preference. Consequently, people began being duped into believing that a reader's personal interpretation of text is 'right' and that canon doesn't matter and that SJM's own intention don't matter as well.

Here are some examples:

Did SJM INTENDED for Cassian to be a terrible mate who will sell Nesta for a chicken nugget if Rhys tells him to? Was the intent to show how poor Nessian pairing is?

Is it just that Cassian did not live up to the readers' own expectations of what they wanted for Nesta? And is their interpretation of Cassian as an awful match for Nesta, who doesn't care about her, only cares about sex, and would never stand up for her or support her, actually correct?

Did SJM INTENDED for Gwyn's scenes in ACOSF to be romantic towards Azriel? Was her cutting the ribbon or climbing or running a prelude to the great Gwynriel romance novel?

Is it that Gwyn was created to be a springboard for Nesta's self-discovery and healing? Someone who accepted, supported and encouraged Nesta when Nesta was at her lowest? And did many readers' animosity towards Elain's characters drove them to willfully interpret absolutely non-romantic scenes as romantic in a futile hope that somehow, their personal wants would translate to page?

Did SJM intended for Rhys and Feyre to be viewed as ignorant despots who hate their own people, only care about wealth and power, and don't give a damn about anyone but themselves and their five houses?

Is Rhys's love for Feyre the driving force behind many of his decisions? for example giving her an extravagant house? Does Rhys really want to trample on everyone's rights, or is he allowing some of his subjects the freedom of autonomy and self-actualization? Is the intent to show that he is a thoughtful and imperfect leader, who cares about the welfare of his people, or is that he is a dictator who gave his lover an empty title?

While SJM's execution of certain topics isn't perfect, I think that wilful ignorance and the desire to see something that isn't there, and something that SJM didn't intended at all, is really the cause of all the shipwars and the IC hate.

Is SJM REALLY in love with Lucien and is excited to write his book, or is that the fantasy of his stans? Whereas SJM's never been particularly complimentary towards Lucien and his character in interviews or in canon?

Will Tamlin's elusive 'redemption arc' REALLY be something that SJM is interested in writing? Or her calling him a 'douchebag' is kind of indicative of her feelings towards him?

"Elriels are obsessed with canon'. We heard this again and again and again. Being obsessed with canon' simply means that we are paying attention to what SJM's intentions are and what she wants to convey through her words. Elriels, just like everyone else have headcanons about Elain, and Az, and Elriel. But we don't discard the actual books and writing in favour of our headcanons.

I feel that lack of consideration towards 'intent' is really leading some people down a very slippery road, where at the end of it, they'll find a lot of crushed dreams. Because most of the time, 'black' is just....black. It's not white. It's not even opaque. It's just, black. I think people should remember that when they do their 'analysis'.

#SJM writing #SJM books #SJM fandom

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yayakoishii · 1 year ago

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Hello love! I saw your post asking for Sanji requests and as a die hard lover of both the anime and live action Sanji, I'll happily provide.

The crew ends up docking at a random island to rest and stay a bit on solid ground. When looking for a place to stay/eat they come across the readers restraunt. Just as they're about to walk in a customer gets thrown out the front door with the reader angrily yelling about manners and how to treat people respectfully.

The readers a cook, a little short tempered, loud, and unapologetically themselves and Sanji instantly falls in love.

Alright alright I'm done now ~ 🍄🐛💫

Respect | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji × Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: Fluff??

A/n: Hey there anon!! I'm super late, but I hope you're still around to see this <3 tbh, this isn't my best work and I feel like it got a little ooc and derailed a bit towards the end but I hope you enjoy it! for all my short temper, I have no idea how to write an angry little gremlin lol.

To everyone else, thank you for the 100 followers and all the likes and comments!! This is insane tbh, I wasn't expecting anything on any of my works 😭 Y'all are too kind ❤️

also available on ao3!

The island they had docked on wasn't all that big, but the people there were lively. There weren't many hotels they could find since the town wasn't all that big, and any that they found were already filled to the brim. Finally after walking around for a while, they found a small tavern quite a ways from the shore. It seemed to be a little lively because there were sounds coming from the inside but it seemed to not be so full that they couldn't grab a table.

As they neared the door of the establishment, it suddenly banged open and two men fell through, looking a little roughed up and angry. The crew lingered at a distance, wondering what was going on when you came out, your chef's hat perfectly atop your head, with your hands on your hips.

"I better not see you around here ever again!" You snapped at the two, who flinched ever so slightly. "If you lack manners, that's YOUR problem. You can't take it out on my girls and expect me to treat you like the valued customers you are not."

The two sat up and glared at you, ready to retort but you raised the pan in your hand, waving it in front of their faces.

"Scram, unless you want me to burn your face," you finished calmly. That was enough. The two immediately scrambled up and ran into the distance. You huffed and blew away the lock of hair that had slipped out of your hat. You were about to turn around and go back in when you noticed the group standing there. "What?"

"Oh, um, we were looking for a place to eat?" Chopper felt the need to answer because you were staring at him. (You were a little curious and didn't mean to stare but that was hard when the group was full of… unique characters.)

"Well, a table just got empty so help yourself in," you grumbled, jerking your thumb to beckon them inside. The crew silently followed you in, to find that your tavern was mostly full too but the people were more calm and the ruckus of the other hotels was missing. "Oh yeah. Before you settle in, you should know the one rule of my establishment."

You narrowed your eyes at them. "You treat any of my girls with anything less than respect and you'll be thrown out like those two. Capisce?"

The crew just nodded, too hungry to actually bother with anything else but Sanji couldn't help but find you absolutely charming. It was common to find people who bent and let their customers do whatever for the sake of business, but you were protective of your employees and you didn't care about being a fake sort of nice. He watched you stalk back to where the food was being cooked, responding nicely to the customers asking if all was good. You were nice where it mattered, and unapologetically yourself if your values were threatened. It was all too easy to find you like a breath of fresh air.

That wasn't even what did it, though. For Sanji, what did it was the moment one of your waitresses had come back with the food they had ordered and he had tasted the dish he had watched you prepare with the ease and expertise of someone who clearly loved and lived for their profession. One bite and he nearly moaned there, masking it under a hum of appreciation.

Even Luffy was looking at the food star eyed and his speed in sucking up the food somehow increased. Sanji tried to not do the same, wanting to savour the taste as long as he could but it was clear that if he took too long, Luffy would have finished it all by then.

The hotel was nearly empty by the time they were done and they were one of the only customers still remaining. Sanji was sure it was dark enough outside that they would need light to make their way back to the ship. You were finishing off, calling out orders for the girls who were starting to clear up. You caught his eye and Sanji couldn't look away, mesmerised by the sight of you removing your hat and shaking your hair free. You were gorgeous, a good cook, and had the personality of a firework. He had to do something–

"Let's take her with us!" Luffy announced suddenly, banging his hand on the table. Everyone startled and Sanji stared at him as if he has grown two heads.

"Uh Luffy, that's kidnapping–" Nami's words died out the moment she noticed you walking up to their table.

"Hey there," you gave them all a small smile. "Will you guys be needing anything else or should I draw up the bill? I'm afraid it's getting close to closing time."

"Come with us!!" Luffy grinned. You paused and looked at him weirdly.

"Sorry?" You said.

"What he means, mademoiselle," Sanji intervened, giving you the most charming smile he had, "is that your food was absolutely delicious. Our captain would like to have you onboard as a chef."

You were silent, staring at them all with a blank look, until you finally looked at Sanji. Your gaze made him putty but he tried to remain firm.

"You don't have a cook or something?" You smiled, a little amused.

"Sanji is the cook!" Luffy answered, pointing a finger at the blonde man, who was too busy giving you googly eyes to answer. You cocked an eyebrow at that, looking at the said man.

"And you don't mind another chef invading your territory?" You asked, curious. The crew didn't seem to be more than the people in your hotel. There really didn't seem to be any need for an extra chef to you; and anyway, you were happy with your little hole in the wall place. You were just asking because you were curious, not because you actually planned to join them.

"If it's you, you can invade any space of mine, my lady," Sanji's eyes had turned into hearts as he uttered the words. Nami whacked him on the head, worried he would freak you out but that earned him a loud laugh from you.

"You're funny," you grinned, looking back at Luffy with an apologetic smile. "Unfortunately, I'm happy where I am. Thanks for the offer but I can't. Now, are you gonna pay up or…?"

Luffy looked like he was going to protest but Usopp held him back. Nami grumbled as she pulled out the pouch of money to pay off their bill and yet all Sanji could think of was begging you to join them. He didn't need another person to cook; he was quite enough. But you, with all your loud beauty, were like a sparkling gem he would never find again. He wanted to have you, to know you, to know all your little quirks and interests. He wanted to cook beside you and fall in love– with cooking and with you, all over again.

The crew started to make their way out but Sanji lingered back, making his way towards you. You noticed and gave him a smile, noting that he really was handsome when he wasn't all heart eyed and half a puddle.

"Is there any way I can change your mind?" He blurted out, feeling his insides shake in anticipation.

"I don't know," you teased, suddenly starting to contemplate if it wouldn't be such a bad idea. You had always wanted to travel, to cook for all kinds of people with all kinds of ingredients; you just never could and had to make do with a small hotel on a small island. Wasn't this a chance to make your dreams come true? "What can you do to convince me?"

"Anything you want from me, mademoiselle," he said breathlessly, gently picking up your hand to press a soft kiss on the back of it. Your heart fluttered at the action, and you flushed. No one had ever treated you like this, like you were something delicate and priceless and every moment you looked in Sanji's eyes made you feel like you were about to be set on fire.

"W- Well," you stuttered, feeling like you had lost control, "how about you help with the dishes then?"

Surely he would not agree to that. This was just a game, and it was time he would back out. You would go back to your little place, and he would go back to his ship. There was no way he would be okay with–

"Is that all it takes, my lady?" The light purr in his voice made your cheeks feel warm.

"N- no, it's just the start," you turned away from him, trying to hide the blush rising up your cheeks. He was far too good looking to be paying you so intense attention and there was something about him that was capturing your heart, tempting it to agree to his words. If you left your girls behind, who would take care of them? All those men who treated them like they were dolls on display would not just disappear the moment you left the island. You couldn't leave them…

"Then, show me the way," he smiled at you, all perfect white teeth shining under the golden lights of your hotel. You just pointed him to the tower of dishes that his own crew had left behind and watched a little astonished as he really started to wash them.

"He's certainly one of a kind," your fellow cook and friend nudged you as she spoke. You couldn't look away from him as you answered her.

"I don't know what it is about him, but whenever he looks at me, I feel…" You abruptly cut off, feeling embarrassed. "Nothing!"

"You feel nothing?" You friend teased, "That blush on your cheeks doesn't look like nothing to me~"

"Shut up," you growled, hackles raised at the teasing. You never fared well with being teased or flirted with, and unfortunately, it seemed the blonde man– Sanji, his captain had called him, you remembered –was exactly of the latter type. He was no good for you, right?

"I don't know," your friend sighed, drawing up a sad smile as she looked at you. "I know your dream. Even if you don't feel anything for him, I know their offer is a chance for you. Why don't you just take it?"

"I can't leave you all behind," you murmured, heart paining at the thought of ditching them just for your dreams. "If I'm not here, what if–"

"Nothing's gonna happen," your friend interrupted you. "Come on, we aren't no weaklings. And I'm here, aren't I? I'll make sure everyone is safe and taken care of. So don't worry about us and go get your man– I mean, go fulfil your dreams."

You whacked her arm at the teasing, smiling genuinely as you watched Sanji finish off the dishes already. He was so fast, and you couldn't help but feel silly for finding that sexy. Competence and confidence was always sexy.

"Alright," you mumbled to yourself. "I'll do it. But, I think I'll take my time. I did say this is just the start."

Your friend raised an eyebrow at your amused smile. Sanji waved at you to indicate that he was done and you waved back, starting to make your way to him.

"It's more fun this way, isn't it?"

°•❀•°

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece sanji #op sanji #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #short fic

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baileypie-writes · 1 month ago

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Do you still write for Joker?

Because I was wondering if you had any headcannons for Joker x Male Siren reader, if you don't mind, of course!! Ooh and maybe the reader really likes jewelry and often loves giving Joker a bunch of random shiny trinkets as gifts? /nfaa

A/N ~ Yep, I still write for him! Just a quick question, what does /nfaa mean? I’m not familiar with that tone tag. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

~Joker With a Siren Boyfriend~

~~~🃏~~~🃏~~~🃏~~~

Fandom: Smile Pretty Cure!

Fanfic Type: Headcanons

Reader: he/him pronouns, a siren

Relationship: Romantic

Characters Included: Joker

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 535

Warnings: Mentions of Reader killing people(drowning)

~Masterlists~

~Smile Pretty Cure! Masterlist~

~~~🃏~~~🃏~~~🃏~~~

~ Being different species, you’d expect Joker to be clueless about quite a few things when it comes to sirens. Though, surprisingly, he’s very educated. You’re not sure if this knowledge existed before meeting you, or if he did research. But no matter which it is, it certainly is nice for someone to understand you. Especially when everyone else doesn’t.

~ Joker truly lives up to his name. He always jests about being hypnotized by your voice as a way of flirting. Both of you know that if that were true, he’d be dead. But it doesn’t stop him. He even jokingly begs for you to sing to him.

Joker: “It’s so dull around here. If only a handsome siren would sing me a song to brighten up my day!”

(name): “Joker, I can’t. Unless you wanna drown in this pool.”

Joker: “But wouldn’t that be such a pleasant way to die?”

(name): “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to die.”

~ Even if you can breathe oxygen, he always makes sure there’s water around for you. He wouldn’t want you to dry out! Besides, he wants you to feel more comfortable. Someone who’s native to the water probably isn’t used to being in such a dry environment.

~ The only time Joker ever goes to the human world other than to fight the Pretty Cure is to take you to the beach. He wants you to be able to enjoy the open water without the restrictions of the size of pools. It makes him so happy to see you swimming around as much as you like.

Joker: “How’s the water?”

(name): “Cold and salty. Just how I like it! I admit that humans have good beaches!”

Joker: “Well I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

~ He often reads whatever fairy tales you appear in just to see you or your species. But of course, those stories have happy endings. But Joker doesn’t mind taking some creative liberties. You’ll later find the book with the last few pages ripped out, with brand new, hand-drawn pages in their place.

(name): “‘And then all the fishermen drowned, and the siren claimed more victims.’ What? That’s not how the story goes.”

Joker: “Oh, I know. I just fixed it.”

(name): “Haha! Well thanks Joker.”

Joker: “It was nothing, my dear.”

~ He loves hearing all the stories you have about luring sailors and other humans to their deaths with your song. It’s such a beautiful power to him. He always says that if he were to die, he’d want to do so just like your victims.

~ You’re the only one that Joker doesn’t make fun of or scold for your shortcomings as both a fairytale villain and a member of Bad End. He blames the humans for your losses. And he always comes to your defense if someone else blames you.

Wolfrun: “I heard you failed again, (name)? What’s with that? Did your fishy smell drive them away? Ha!”

Joker: “(name) has no legs, so I imagine it’s hard for him to get around. Do you have an excuse, Wolfrun?”

Wolfrun: “Uh…”

Joker: “I see. I think it’s best you leave now. In fact, why not pay a visit to the Pretty Cure yourself?”

~~~🃏~~~🃏~~~🃏~~~

~~baileypie-writes

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breathing-the-same-air · 11 months ago

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I have to admit I hadn't cried when I first learnt about season 3 - I half expected it, and I was at work at the time so there was no room for tears.

I've totally not been lying in bed watching this video and helplessly crying for the past ten minutes😭

OFMD has been so meaningful to me that it's hard to even put it into words. I think it is one of those things that happen once in history, and today I was really hit by the realisation that I was lucky enough to be alive at this very moment, and to get to be a part of this wonderful family. I feel so extremely blessed and grateful for it.

And of course this is not the end, it will never be. That's what's magical about stories, they last forever, you can always go back to page one and start again. And it's just like with people - it doesn't really matter how long you live, what matters is how you live. It matters that two seasons of this show created what no doubt is one of the healthiest fandoms to ever exist. It matters that people who had never felt seen or heard now feel so much more confident and happier. It matters that it made a difference.

There is real magic in this show. It goes far beyond what it says explicitly, there is something else, something that has touched all our hearts and lit up a light in them we didn't know existed, something that brought out the best in us, that inspired us immensely, that gave us the ability to love ourselves as we never could before. We all have experienced this in one way or another, it was a magic that the crew and fandom created together, one of those miracles that can only be meant to be, and I am so thankful it happened.

I know, we are all heartbroken, and there would be so much to say about cast, producers and fandoms not being listened to enough, about queer representation, and the wonderful people who worked on this show really, really deserve to have their season 3, so we have all the reasons to feel angry right now. But I choose to take the lesson OFMD keeps teaching us all - choose kindness. Choose love.

I choose to be grateful, infinitely grateful, for the wonderful souls who made this possible. They are artists and they are saviours and I hope they know how much of a difference they've made in the lives of us all.

I generally try to keep the more spiritual side of my writings in their own sideblog but I'll break my own rule now, as I don't think a threshold exists anymore. OFMD is about earthly life as much as it is about spirituality, it's about life and death, about love and hate, it's about everything because at the end of the day everything, everyone, is connected - by love.

Love is the energy that holds the Universe together, love is what we all are made of, and love is infinite. OFMD is infinite. It will live forever in each one of us, because we are not separate entities; as much as we may not realise it, we are all one. And we will forever be a crew.

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dreamingofep · 1 year ago

Text

Sinned Awakening pt. 3

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis’ full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, SMUT, oral, the usual dirty stuff

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.5K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 3! This part was a lot to write and I felt it to be a bit of a challenge to show the tension and magnetism between these two. I hope you enjoy all this and can't wait to show you what happens next. Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs. 🖤

Arriving to work the next day, you felt that familiar knot in your stomach form. Yet again, you didn’t know what would be in store for you. Would he fire you? Would you get another obscenely weird letter of praise? You had no idea but you had to show up and find out.

Three o clock arrived and there was no phone call, just the buzzing sound of the lights above you. You tapped your leg nervously, wanting to see him but unsure what to say. He might not have seen you after all, maybe it was just you being paranoid and he wasn’t upset at all.

Six o clock came and still no phone call. In fact, there wouldn’t be a phone call for an entire week. You were incredibly frustrated that he has you on call like this. You expected him to have more manners than this rather than keeping you waiting at his beck and call. But Tanya's voice rings in your head and it reminds you that he's "particular." Just another word for him acting like an asshole.

Looking at the clock, it was almost seven and your blood boiled. The least he could do was tell you he didn’t need you to clean today and you could go home and rest. But instead, you’re stuck here in this cold, poorly lit locker room in the basement of the Hilton.

The shrill cry of the phone makes you make a frustrated groan. You quickly pick up the receiver and raise it to your ear and don’t say a word.

“Mr. Presley will-,” you hang up harshly and head to the elevator.

You had rehearsed the things you wanted to say to him, really give him a piece of your mind. How he can’t treat you like this and you’re not some servant to him. You work for The Hilton, not for him solely, and he needs to be reminded of that.

You rush past the men in the hallway and don’t care about the judgmental stares they give you as you head to the suite’s double doors. You open the door abruptly and slam it behind you making the walls shake. Your eyes search for Elvis in the living room and don’t see him anywhere. Not only that, the room is in spotless condition as you left it last, leaving you bewildered that you got a call in the first place. You creep your way further into the room and you get that familiar chill down your spine. Your body freezes and your eyes dart to the dark figure coming out of the bedroom.

The shadow in the corner of the room makes it’s way into the light to reveal Elvis standing in a silk black shirt and black slacks, anger radiating off of him and hitting you in waves.

“Do not slam my door,” he bellows.

You scoff at him and cross your arms on your chest, “You can’t possibly think I’d be happy waiting for a week not hearing a word from you. Then you call me up here thinking I could get the normal cleaning done! A normal person would call at the beginning of the shift that they don’t need me so I can go about my day,” you snarl.

“So you can go do what? Go home to a fiancé that doesn’t care if you exist?” He snaps back. You stare wide-eyed in shock and disbelief at the pure hate that he spits at you

“What the hell is your problem?! I have been nothing but kind and gracious to you despite your god-awful raging mood swings,” you retort. His jaw clenches, slowly walking towards you. The closer he gets, the clearer you could see his eyes, engulfed with pent-up anger. They were a much darker blue than the icy blue you saw a few days ago and you can’t figure out if it was your imagination or the lighting, but the way he’s looking at you now is dangerous.

“You’re my problem, honey,” he scoffs, “You don’t listen. You were told up front, I am the only one who tells you if I need your services, and yet you come barging in here tonight like you own the place. I didn’t need you tonight, but you hung up on one of my men and couldn’t even listen to the complete instruction,” he scowls. His eyes burn into yours as he inches closer to you.

“And possibly even worse, you went into my bedroom the other night when I specifically told you not to under any circumstances,” He growls, pointing his finger at you, getting closer than he normally gets.

“Well, I wasn’t in your bedroom so I don’t see what the issue is,” you say defiantly, watching as the disbelief washes over his face. You straighten out your posture, showing him that you’re not going stand here and take his harsh words like a scared child.

“And if you were so concerned about me finding out what you do in your bedroom, you might need to gain the ability to actually close your door and turn your porn off until I leave the penthouse,” you sneer. He quickly rushes to you, taking your face in his hand, making you look up straight into his fiery eyes.

“You have no idea what I can do to you,” he seethes. Your breathing begins to become labored and his close proximity makes it feel suffocating. You peel his cold hands off your face and throw it down at his side.

“I’m not afraid of what some recluse with money can do to me. It was only a matter of time before you would fire me,” you say fuming.

“Mhmm…but you’re right, maybe I should fire you. Or, maybe I should make you work for me forever, keep you all to myself,” he says darkly. Your heart thumps in your ears and you look at him wide-eyed as the mood in the room drastically shifts.

“Y-y-you couldn’t pay me enough so don’t even try,” your voice waiver the closer he gets to you.

“Maybe you’re right… maybe there isn’t a number that could make you happy, you’re just going to be as miserable as me,” he scoffs.

“No one can be as miserable as you, I can guarantee that,” you scowl.

He takes another step forward and you retract back, needing to keep space between you two. He smirks when he sees your reaction to him, taking one more step closer.

“I make you nervous, don’t I?” He quips slyly.

A lump in your throat forms and you don’t realize you’ve retreated so far in the room and are at the piano now. You bump the keys of the piano with your backside and jump at the sound. “I don’t know what you mean,” you say nervously.

“I see it in your eyes, the way your body fights to get away from me, but you can’t. You want to be here. To be close to me,” he reveals.

“Elvis, I- I’m engaged you can’t try to win your way with me like any other woman,”

“I don’t think you care about that right now. I know a troubled and unhappy soul when I see one honey. I’m just trying to figure you out. What you… need,” he emphasizes.

“Who says I’m not already happy?” You question. Another smirk forms on his face, making you weaker by the second.

“Based on how your cheeks are flushed and your eyes pleading for me to give you attention, I’d say you need something more. Something more from me.”

You bite your lower lip, knowing everything he is saying is the truth. The longer you stare and be in his presence, the more your body craved being around him. Not only that but this carnal desire to let him have his way with you ignited a fire inside you you didn’t know existed. You look down at the carpet, mapping out the way you’re going to try to get out of here. He places his hand on the bottom of your chin, making you look up into his eyes as they consume you whole.

“Do I make you nervous, yes or no,” he spat.

You nod your head in his hand, unable to keep your breathing steady as his eyes bore into your searching for answers. He pushes his body into yours, his erection starting to form and pushing into your tummy. You let out a slow breath, trying to fight how good his body feels on yours. The battle is lost almost immediately as you find your hands wrapped around his torso, needing him even closer, scratching your nails down his back.

“Are you happy?” He questions.

“I’m not happy,” you whisper. He lets a slow exhale, his body melting into yours.

“Then stop fighting me so much and let me give you what you need,” He groans into your ear, pushing his hips into you more. You hold back the moan you want to give him, unable to denounce that this is exactly what you wanted from him.

“I was born to please honey. It's what I do best. I get on that stage, I please the audience with my voice every night. I always make sure those around me get what they need too. Whether that’s money, food, clothes, you name it. And that applies to you too,” he pauses and takes his hand off of you. You take a sharp inhale as you feel your core throb for the first time in his presence. “So, what do you need?’ He asks patiently, smirking down at you.

“I need you to show me what you do best,” you say slyly, succumbing to him. He grins and in a flash, his lips are on yours. His lips feel better than you could have ever dreamed of. They’re soft and pillowy, kissing you with a newfound urgency you had never had before. The way he groans when he kisses you more passionately has you rolling your eyes back; like he’s been dying to do this and has mapped it all out.

His hands are around your hips, squeezing them tightly, making you push your body into him more. His hands roam your body freely, putting them everywhere, touching certain areas longer than others then moving on to touch somewhere else. He finds the curve of your ass and squeezes it firmly, making you break the kiss and look up at him gasping.

The way his skin felt on your body was beyond a craving; it was a need. This was exactly what you needed. All this weird pent-up energy between you two was bound to make the dam break and the only cure was having him this way. With your bodies clutching for each other, moaning and gasping for more as your apparent arousals made your thoughts go hazy. Your hand trails down to the front of his body, grazing down his til you hit his hard bulge. Your fingers trace the outline of his cock, getting to feel how long his length really is and you look up at him.

He has the most devious grin on his face as you keep rubbing him over his pants. You let out a breathy sigh, realizing you can’t wait any longer.

“Mmm, Elvis,” you say low.

“I know honey,” he grumbles, his finger hooking onto the inside of your shirt as he pops off every button. Your skirt has the same treatment as you feel the zipper slide down and it slipping off your hips. His hand finds your hair and swiftly pulls the elastic that was holding your hair back, letting it fall in effortless waves.

Before you have any chance to react to what he’s doing to your clothes, he picks you up and sits you down firmly on top of the piano. Your head spins at the way he’s touching you, being more exposed just being in your bra and panties. It's all so much better than you anticipated and it feels like his hands are burning on your skin. He grunts inwardly and rubs his hands along the inner parts of your thighs, spreading them open. His thumbs play dangerously close to the sensitive flesh that reaches your core and you can’t help but spread your legs wider for him to touch those places. Elvis stands in between your legs and brushes your hair behind your ear. His fingers unclasp your bra and slide the straps off your shoulders. Cupping your breasts in his hands, he gives them the lightest touch, rubbing your nipples in slow circles with his thumbs making you fall apart instantly for him.

He leans you back on the piano and lifts your legs up, letting them dangle on his shoulders. Your heart pounded away as Elvis inched closer to your dripping heat. You look at him in between your legs, looking absolutely ravenous. He glides his thumb up on your covered folds and instantly brought a shock to your entire body. Your panties were soaked through already, and he smiles when he makes this discovery. He keeps rubbing your sensitive bud, watching your face as it drowns in pleasure.

The friction he’s giving you is exactly what you wanted and it feels like heaven. He knows the exact amount of pressure to put on it to make you want more from him. Your blazing heat and his cold fingers provide such an interesting sensation that you’ve never experienced and it drives you insane.

Elvis can’t keep his eyes off of you, wanting to make you feel better than you ever have before. He hooks his fingers in the elastic waistband and you move your hips up to help him get them off of you. He hums softly, amused at your eagerness. He lightly glides his hands over your entire body, leaving you with chills. He can’t help but smirk when he notices how your body reacts to him. How your nipples hardened by his cool touch and how your chest heaves waiting for him to give you more.

He crouches down slightly, placing his two fingers on your lower lips, spreading them apart, showcasing the wet mess he has created and spilling out of you.

“Fuck this kitty looks so perfect,” he moans breathlessly, looking at you with need. He rubs his thumb on your sensitive bud, making you let out an obscenely loud moan, having not been touched like this by a man in ages. He knows just the right pressure to give you, enough to work you up. He stops and looks up at you, grinning like a little devil.

“This is one of the things I do best honey,” he groans deeply before he leans down and you feel his tongue on you. He starts to lap his tongue into your folds, swirling it and putting the perfect amount of pressure on your clit. You gasp, so unaccustomed to all of this, it feels almost overwhelming.

“Oh shittt,” you groan the more he uses his tongue. He has a tight grip on your thighs, keeping you still as you try to squirm on top of the piano. He is also groaning the more he licks at your wetness, driving you to the edge by the sounds he’s making. You lift your head up to watch him with his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed as he looks positively ravenous as he eats you, sucking and lapping all the wetness from you. His groans sound animalistic, like he’s been so deprived for your pussy and he finally gets what he’s wanted the most.

Suddenly, you feel his tongue slip into your entrance and you both make the most salacious moan together. He eats you like he’s trying to get all the sweet cream from the bottom of the cone, not letting a drop get unlicked.

He sucks on your clit before taking his lips off of you, “Goddamn baby, tasting so fucking good. I've never had someone taste so sweet. Just like honey,” he murmurs drunkenly and goes back to licking your weeping folds. One hand is on your thigh, holding your leg up in the air and the other is grasping onto the edge of the piano, hunched over in stature as he is so laser-focused on you.

You hadn’t experienced this very often and it was definitely never like this. This was beyond pleasurable, it was euphoric with the way he made you want to get the very edge and come apart with his mouth on you.

Your hips start to rock involuntarily into his face, needing more from that mouth of his.

You feel his lips form into a mischievous smile as you continue to do this, guiding his tongue where you want it most.

“That’s right baby, I make you feel so good hmm,” he whispers. The sound of his voice makes your walls flutter and you can’t last much longer. Your breathing begins to shake, not used to so many sensations that he is giving you right now. He plunges his tongue deep inside you and you practically see stars behind your closed eyes. He keeps this same pace, moving his tongue in and out of you as you reach for his hair. You tangle your fingers in the soft black tresses and continue to rock into his face, feeling the warmth of your orgasm rush all over your body. You moan loudly as his tongue continues to fuck you and your squeezing walls.

Your body tingles all over and feel more pleased than you have in ages. You never particularly liked oral because you had a harder time finishing, but tonight, that was the complete opposite problem.

If that’s what he can do with his mouth… what can he do with the rest of his body…

He takes his mouth off of you, your slick covering his lips and chin, his eyes looking positively drunk on you. Standing up, his chest heaves when he looks at you, contemplating what he’s going to do next to you. His long index finger glides through your sensitive folds, making you hiss at the added pressure.

His other hand traces your jaw and his thumb rubs along your lips, humming to himself as you lick the pad of it. He groans at your little insinuation and moves his hand down to your neck putting the most delicious amount of pressure there.

Suddenly, you feel his finger enter your weeping core and you gasp and groan at the intrusion. Your walls hug his digit snugly and he too lets out a pent-up moan as he moves it in and out of you slowly.

“Fucking hell honey, when was the last time a man fucked you right,” he coos.

Your mind races and your body aches with desire, needing him to take care of every last want and need you crave.

“I-I-I don’t remember,” you manage to mumble, feeling his long finger get deeper inside you. Your jaw drops as he continues to feel your slick walls, letting out a loud moan.

He enters another long finger inside you and you cry out his name, so completely enamored with the feelings that are being brought into your body. Your walls flutter and you sit up on your elbows watching what he’s doing to you. He curls his fingers inside you, hitting a soft spongy spot you didn’t know existed before. He keeps curling and pushing there, making you moan louder for him.

His mouth is back on your clit, suckling it eagerly. You can’t hold back anymore and feel your walls squeeze around his fingers. Your head falls back, begging for him to give you more. The rippling wave of pleasure hits you like a train and won’t stop as long as he has his mouth on your aching bud. You try to push his head away from your over-sensitive core but he doesn’t let you move it. Sitting there shaking with pleasure, he stills your legs and looks at you deviously.

“I’m gonna show you how a man should fuck you, honey,” he growls, his eyes continuing to look dangerous and yet so attractive. He pulls his fingers out of you and picks you up off the piano, pulling you into the next room.

His bedroom is dark, with black furnishings taking up most of the space and a large king-sized bed in the middle across from the tv stand. A picture of an angel in stained glass sits on his nightstand, backlit with a candle to shine on the depiction of the biblical figure.

Elvis pulls back the sheets and places you in the middle of the bed. He doesn’t get on it with you right away, instead, he just stares hungrily at you, working the buttons of his shirt to reveal his body to you. Your eyes wander down to his pants and see his straining erection and he notices you staring.

“Need something, sweetheart?” He teases.

You nod your head at him, “Mhmm, I do” you beckon, trying to reach for his hand to pull him in. He doesn’t move though, and takes his hand away from you.

“Tell me what you need,” he prods.

“I need your cock,” you pant.

He slowly drags his pants off his hips, his erection slapping his lower stomach as it springs free. You lay there unable to function. Seeing it up close makes you feel an undeniable need to have him fill you with all of that. Your heart races out of your chest as he still doesn’t make a move yet.

He wraps his hand around his length, slowly pulling back his foreskin to better showcase his red leaking tip. He looks down at you slyly, watching how you bite your lip and scoot closer to him on the edge of the bed.

“Did you like it?,” he cocks his head at you waiting for your response.

You look at him puzzled, “Did I like what?” You ask unsure.

“The other day, did you like watching me get off?” He says darkly. You hold your breath, confirming your big fear that he did indeed see you watching him through the crack of the door. You know there’s no point in lying, he saw you and there’s no other excuse.

“Yes,” you squeak out embarrassed. A sly grin washes over his face and his hand continues to rub his length.

“Then say it,” he commands, his voice deep and gruff. Your stomach drops when you hear his tone and what he is expectantly waiting to hear from you. You don’t have to ask what he wants and you take a deep breath before speaking.

“I liked watching you get off,” you say in a breathy moan. He bites the bottom of his lip and nods his head at you.

“I know honey, I know you did. I liked how you watched me. Now it’s time to give you what you want,” he groans, getting on the bed in between your legs and spreading them open. The coolness of his hands pressing into your soft thighs makes you shiver with anticipation. He guides the tip of his cock in between your folds, covering it with your slick and you groan.

He lines himself up to your entrance and pushes a few inches in swiftly. You gasp at the initial penetration, he feels so much bigger than you anticipated and you haven’t had sex in so long that your body needs a second to acclimate. Your hands reach for his arms and grab onto him tight and groan.

He also lets out a loud moan as he moves in and out of you slowly, his eyes closed shut and his mouth dropped open in pleasure.

“Fuuckkk honey. Squeezing me so damn tight. You feel perfect,” He groans through his teeth, pushing more of his cock inside of you.

Your fingers dig into his flesh, leaving little red marks on his biceps. There’s a searing pleasurable pain that resides within you as you try to take him. He watches how you writhed on the bed, gasping for air as all of this is overwhelming.

“Ahh, oh my god Elvis,” You moan as you toss your head to the side, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear him hum in delight as he watches every single reaction come out of you. How you inadvertently moan for more when he pulls his length out of you and how your face looks when he plunges the rest of it in you.

“Oh my god,” you both moan out.

“Elvis, holy shit…” you managed to get out as he starts to snap his hips faster into you.

“What honey, you not used to get fucked like this hmm?” He teases.

You shake your head fervently, looking down as his length goes in and out of you.

“No, feels so good though,” you whimper. He pushes your legs up more and has both of his hands on your knees and he grinds his hips into you, watching you from above. God those hips were talented in more ways than one, the way he was barely moving them but was hitting the most perfect spot inside you had you dying.

The coil in your belly tightens by the second and has you crying for release. Almost reading your thoughts, he stops and pulls out of you. You plead for him, wanting nothing more than for him to make you cum. His eyes are still very dark, lust taking them over as he watches you plead for more of him.

“Elvisss please oh god,” you cry, pulling at his arms to get him on you again.

“You’re gonna have to tell me exactly what you want baby,” he commands.

You let out a frustrated moan, looking into his eyes, “Keep fucking me, your cock feels so good,” you beg unashamedly.

He grins at you and quickly puts your legs on his shoulders. He lines himself up again and plunges into you fast and fervently, making you see stars already. Elvis stretches his arm over you, holding onto the bed frame for leverage as he pounds into you. The moans and cries are coming out of you like water. He was right, you’ve never had a man fuck you like this and you enjoyed it more than you probably should.

When it came to sex, Daniel didn’t think about your needs, he did the same thing every time if you two ever did have any. This wasn’t the case at all with Elvis. He was on a mission for you you to feel the maximum amount of pleasure and cum first.

He looks so powerful and addicted to you, as he keeps fucking you. Your hips move with him, matching his rhythm and feeling that familiar feeling in your core. His other hand is back on your neck, wrapping it firmly there making your eyes roll back. You groan loudly, not able to take much more at the pace he’s set.

“Elvis I’m gonna cum oh god,” you cry.

He groans with you and you feel his thumb trace the side of your neck, rubbing there back and forth cussing under his breath.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck honey,” he moans as he leans down and nips hard at the crook of your neck.

You cry out for him, feeling beyond overwhelmed. The way his teeth felt on your neck was a feeling you could only describe as perilous. You didn’t want him to stop necessarily but it made you nervous with how intensely he was focused there. He keeps nipping that spot over and over then at it licking ravenously. You feel his body convulse on top of you, his breathing ragged as he nuzzles his nose next to your ear.

“Cum for me, now,” he demands gruffly, his hips snapping into you like an animal.

You obey without hesitation and feel your walls squeeze his length, making you both cuss. His face stays buried in the crook of your neck, not moving it as you ride out your orgasm.

Your fingers scratch at his back, holding onto him for dear life as you try to regain your normal breathing. He quickly pulls out of you and keeps his head down, his chest heaving like you've never seen, and grabs his length in his hand, growling in frustration.

“Turn around, now,” he grunts. Your brain scrambled to listen to him, his tone making you jump out of your skin. You quickly get on all fours and wait there for his next instructions. His hand grasps at your hip and you feel his hot seed land on your ass. His moans are gruff and you hear his breathing scattered, frantic almost. The sounds of his moans made you melt and you wanted to look at his face to see what he looked like coming. You bet he looked even more attractive somehow. But you decided to listen to him and let him finish the way he wanted to. You felt his seed drip down your ass and onto the backof your thighs, making you completely wet with both of your arousal.

His hands squeeze your hips and he turns you around again, laying on your back looking up at him. He looks delightfully fucked out of his mind and looks down upon you like prey. You both don’t say anything right away, trying to regain your normal breathing and not pass out from this beautiful man on top of you.

“Did you like that?” He asks softly.

“Y-yes. I really did. Didn’t know it could be that, intense,” you admit. He chuckles to himself, his blue eyes still dark with lust as he looks at you.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear,” he says smugly as he leans down to kiss your forehead.

He carefully gets off of you and goes to the bathroom to get a towel. He has you turn around for him again, he wipes your backside clean and he sits on the edge of the bed staring at you. You didn’t know what else to say or do, so many emotions were running through your head, and couldn’t make any sense of them.

Why did your body like him this much? It was more intense than you could have possibly imagined. You wanted to believe it was because you had been so deprived of another human’s touch but it wasn’t convincing enough. You just cheated on your fiancé, it should be making you sick with what you just begged Elvis to do to you but instead, you’re already thinking if this could possibly happen again.

No stop it. It’s not going to happen again. You promise.

You need to break this deafening silence and look at him smirking.

“I hope you don’t expect me to change the sheets next,” you say smartly. He shakes his head at you and laughs. Another thing that is beautiful about him; his laugh. That contagious sound makes you smile without you even trying.

“No honey I won’t make you do that. We might just make another mess in them,” He says deviously.

“Elvis, I umm, I really enjoyed all of that but this can’t happen again,” you say weakly.

“Mhmm, whatever you want honey. If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be,” he discloses, getting up and heading for the bathroom. “Leave whenever you want, I have to get ready for my show,” He says gently.

You look at the clock and it’s already eight, his show starts in half an hour. Looks like he might be going on a little late.

You go back into the living room area where you see your discarded uniform. You slip your skirt back on and button up your shirt. And throw your ruined panties and bra in your cart and make your way out. You couldn’t make eye contact with the men there in the hall, almost guaranteeing that they heard everything that was going on in there. The elevator doors open and you get in and take the long ride down to the basement.

Your head felt like it was in a cloud, blurry with so many thoughts and feelings you couldn’t escape. Grabbing your panties out from your cart, you make your way to your locker to grab your purse and go home. You keep a small mirror on the locker’s door and you take a look at your reflection. Your hair looked like it went through a tornado and your mascara was smudged underneath your eyes.

Nice you look completely normal.

Then your eyes stare in disbelief at what you see next. On the side of your neck, a large purple bruise has surfaced, pulsating and burning. You delicately touch it with your fingers and wince, feeling your pulse underneath it throb. He was nipping there harder than you thought based on how big and purple the bruise is, he did some damage.

Tilting your head further and inspecting for any more signs of how you committed adultery, you see your carotid artery running down your neck and through the bruise Elvis left behind.

You take deep breaths and try to find a bandage that will cover this up properly. You have no idea what excuse you are going to try to give when people ask what happened but you’ll figure it out later. Right now, you need to cover it up and get out of here.

Rushing over to the first aid kit, you find a band-aid that covers the bruise and you carefully placed it on. Closing your locker and grabbing your purse, you run to your car and lock the door, catching your breath and calming yourself down before you drive home.

This can’t happen again.

There’s already too much evidence he left behind.

You can’t have him.

He’s too tempting.

Do your job and get out.

But something in you knew it wasn’t going to be that simple.

Tagging 🖤:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo @loving-elvis

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mycurrent-hyperfixation · 1 year ago

Text

Sick & Tired (Locklyle One-Shot)

Summary: George is sick and tired of nearly dying because his friends can't admit they're in love with one another. And he's about to tell them as much.

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x Lucy Carlyle

Tags: fluff, pining, angst

Warnings: Mild spoilers for the books!

A/N: Heyo, me again. Thanks to those who left such lovely comments on my last fic. I know this fandom is a lot smaller than the one's I normally write for so I'm absolutely loving the enthusiasm when it comes to our shared obsession with this lovely little pairing. Hope everyone is having a good week. Like always, let me know if y'all want to be added/removed from my taglist! Love you all x

George didn’t particularly consider himself to be one of the most observant people he knew.

He was smart, sure. Witty, resourceful, diligent, clever. But when it came to being observant to the other people of his species? Well, he could not quite summon the same enthusiasm he had when observing the dead.

Yet, next to Lockwood and Lucy, George could almost be considered the most perceptive person in the world. He could not understand how it was that the two of them were some of the smartest people he knew, and the dumbest.

Take Lockwood for instance. Just last week George had borne witness to Lockwood’s theatrical monologue as he recounted and solved each mystery of the case they had been on: the real reason of that strange man’s appearance on their doorstep, the true cause of death for the woman’s spirit they were fighting, and the unborn child in her belly. There had of course been some flourishing of his sword, some unnecessary swishes of his coat as he had danced with the ghost before Lucy had sealed the Source. But George was sure that everyone in that room – including Inspector Barnes who had arrived at the culmination of the flourishing and the swishing with a notable roll of his eyes – had been awed at Lockwood’s ingenious in that moment.

Sure, George had been the one to give Lockwood all the puzzle pieces in the first place. But even he had to admit that Lockwood had beaten him to the punch…on that occasion.

Yet, at the same time, it was a stray glance from Lucy that had nearly had Lockwood dropping his rapier mid-battle. A smile thrown his way that had him suddenly choking on his tea once they had arrived home afterwards. A whiff of her perfume that had him missing a step on the staircase and tumbling down to the landing.

And then there was Lucy. By all accounts, she was usually far more composed out of the two in any given situation. Her unparalleled Talent paired with her untameable curiosity made for an excellent co-worker. Even more so because of her lightning-fast reflexes and quick-thinking.

But she too seemed to suffer from the same affliction as Lockwood: idiocy when in the others’ presence.

Yes, it had been her that had saved all of their lives the other day when she had heard the Poltergeist creeping up behind them in the shadows whilst they had been distracted by the Cold Maiden. But it had also been her who had blushed profusely and stumbled over her words in her report to DEPRAC afterwards when Lockwood had casually complimented her. It had been her who had pulled Quill away from the grips of a Limbless that night. But it was also her who had quite unsubtly tripped Quill on his way out the door after he had thrown one of his usual snide comments back at Lockwood.

It was maddening, really, working with a pair of smart imbeciles.

Worse, even, since he also had to live with them.

And so George’s morning (early afternoon) went like every other as he made his way down from his bedroom. When he entered the kitchen, he had expected to be greeted by a round of applause for having remembered to put his pyjama bottoms on. But instead, he was met by Lockwood and Lucy mooning over each other like usual.

‘Mooning’ was likely the wrong word for what he witnessed, George knew. It could probably be better described as furtive glances thrown between them when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Either way, George was sick of it, and so dramatically rolled his eyes as he went to put the kettle on.

Whilst George would usually resign himself to eating his toast whilst fighting off his gag reflex as he looked upon the stupidity of his clueless friends, that particular morning saw him lacking in most of his patience.

The night before had held its usual amount of Lucy and Lockwood’s pining as the three of them, accompanied by Holly and Quill, had investigated a supposed Type Two in a very small and very cramped cottage. In hindsight, all five of them likely didn’t need to be there. But George’s research had uncovered the site to be built on the land of an executioner’s lot, so they had decided it was better to be safe than sorry.

In the end, it had meant that the working conditions that night had been exceptionally…close. Matters only worsened when Lockwood had the bright idea of pairing Lucy and Quill together for the initial sweep of the house. George had seen it, the very moment when Lockwood discovered his mistake as Lucy had to quite unceremoniously brush completely up against Quill to make her way out of the room. George could’ve sworn he had seen a vein nearly burst in Lockwood’s forehead a split second before the boy’s usual charming smile returned to his features.

What ensued that night could only be described as a complete shitshow.

George liked to think that their relationship with Quill was better now – not the best, but better. He did still consider Quill a massive tosser after all and that would likely never change. But even George had to admit that the night’s mishaps were not entirely Quill’s fault. Although the boy definitely did not help matters when he returned to the kitchen with Lucy laughing at his heel. George had turned back to Lockwood in that instance and had seen his jaw completely tensed.

Lucy was all but repulsed by Quill, and everyone in that room knew it. George knew it. Holly knew it. Hell, even Quill probably knew it.

And Lockwood knew it. George was completely sure.

Yet there Lockwood was acting the love-sick idiot for the rest of the night. He swiftly changed up the pairings, sticking Quill with a not-so-happy George instead. But things only seemed to get worse from there.

When the Type Two ghost did finally arrive – with a few unexpected friends – all hell broke loose. On most days, five agents should have been enough to deal with the situation, but Lockwood was seemingly anyone but himself that night. He was slow, his rapier movements lethargic. His orders came out stuttered, unsure of himself. His focus was distracted. Where he should have been looking at any of the ghosts that now surrounded them (he had quite the array to choose from after all), George could tell – even from beneath Lockwood’s sunglasses – that the boy couldn’t stop himself from glancing back at Lucy every chance he got.

So the night had been a long one, full of salt bombs, ectoplasm dodging and several bouts of running away. In the end, it had been Lucy who had screamed the order to find the Source. Lockwood had acted like the thought had never even occurred to him.

So George’s patience had been worn thin that morning, grains of salt still embedded into his hair. Lockwood and Lucy were sitting side-by-side at the table, quietly sipping their teas as Lucy’s bread toasted in the toaster. Neither of them had spoken to each other about the night before, the tension in the room was enough to tell George that.

“I’m sick of this,” George mumbled louder than he had intended.

“Sorry, what was that, George?” Lockwood asked, looking up as if he had genuinely not noticed George’s presence in the room.

“I’m sick of this,’ George said again, louder this time.

George did not particularly want to die because his friends could not communicate with one another, and so he decided in that moment that he had had enough.

“Of what?” Lockwood asked, his eyebrows furrowing. Lucy’s toast popped out of the toaster and, as if autonomously, Lockwood rose from his chair, placed the pieces onto a plate and began buttering them.

“Of last night!” George burst out. Lockwood and Lucy stood still before him, both of their eyebrows furrowing now. “Of every night! Of every moment of every day and how you two as so goddamn stupid!”

“I’ll agree that last night did not go according to plan,” Lockwood began. “But I would hardly say that that warrants this-”

“According to plan?” George said. “What do you mean according to plan? Last night was a complete shitshow. It took us five hours to contain three ghosts! And all because-”

“Well it’s hardly that simple-” Lockwood tried. He knew where this was going now and tried desperately to get George to meet his eye.

“Because you two can’t just talk,” George continued. “It really shouldn’t be that hard! But no, Lockwood, you’ve instead got to bottle it all up like normal and then get wildly jealous when Lucy talks to anyone of the opposite sex. We could’ve been out of that house in an hour last night if you had just focused. Quill repulses any girl within a mile radius. I don’t understand how you can possibly think that Lucy has lost all of her braincells and is suddenly interested in him!”

Lucy and Lockwood’s mouths were now resolutely hanging agape.

“You thought…” Lucy began, turning to face Lockwood.

“Oh, please,” George continued, seemingly unable to stop himself now that he had begun. “Don’t pretend like you aren’t exactly the same. I remember how you acted when Holly first joined the team. You practically brought Aickmere’s down on us with your outburst near that Poltergeist!”

Lucy’s mouth snapped closed as she averted her gaze to the floor.

“I get it,” George said with a sigh. “Life’s hard. Feelings are hard. But I’ve had to put up with the two of you pining after one another since Lucy first set foot in that door. And frankly, I’m sick and tired of it! We have dangerous jobs, we live dangerous lives. One of you could die tomorrow and then where would you be? So just…talk!”

George was breathing heavily now, his panting the only sound that filled the room. The tension in the air was thick; so thick that he could likely slice his rapier right through it.

“Now,” George continued. “I am going to finish my tea upstairs, alone. Then, I’m going to the archives and when I get back I don’t want to see any more pining one way or the other, please.”

And with that, George left. How he so wished to listen by the door and hear what was to come next. But he had done enough damage for one day and so retreated back to his room.

When George returned back home later that evening, he became nervous when he opened the door and was greeted by complete silence. There was no laughter, no talking, not even the kettle was being boiled and, at that time of day, that was a rarity.

A sense of regret washed completely through George as he closed the door behind him. What if he had only made things worse? What if he had ruined everything? What if Lockwood and Lucy had decided against finally getting together and putting George out of his misery?

His dread only got worse as he walked down the hallway. But as he passed the library, the door only barely ajar, he stopped in his tracks. Tentatively, so as to not make any noise, he pushed the door slowly open.

On the couch in the corner – laying in a position that did not look awfully comfortable – was Lockwood quite soundly asleep. And then there, wrapped within his arms, was Lucy, her head resting against Lockwood’s chest as she too slept.

George smiled to himself, left the room and went to put the kettle on.

---

Taglist:

@alicetweven @theh3aven @manamitoyota @mimiluvsualot @cherrypieyourface @kaqua @c0untryclub @goldencherriess @emotionaldreamer @givemethesleep @milkiane @miscreantsnopossoms @legendaryfestsoul-blog

#lockwood and lucy #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #lockwood #lucy carlyle #locklyle #lockwood netflix #lockwood x lucy #george cubbins #george karim #holly munro #quill kipps

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fang-and-feather · 11 months ago

Text

Ikemen Vampire - Jean d'Arc x Vincent van Gogh x Reader

Words: 1,132

Summary: Jean can't help but still question his feelings for these two little lights that kept coming back to illuminate his life, but he also can't help but be drawn to them

Notes: this first chapter is a little angstier than my usual due to Jean's internal conflict. I don't know what possessed me while writing this one or to even have the idea to start this in this way...

Written for Polyam Shipping Day Prompt: Conflict from @polyamships

The Jean/Vincent pairing was inspired by @koco-coko (although I vaguely remember reading something with them on AO3, back before I was even a writer for this fandom) and I've been meaning to write it for a while, hope you don't mind me going along with the idea and that I went along with a xReader triad (is it a surprise to anyone at this point?)

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

Jean had never been in love; he wasn’t sure what it felt like. But if he had to guess, that was exactly what he was feeling. He could give no other name to this.

Except that this couldn’t be love. Love was supposed to be such a pure feeling. This? This was temptation. Sin.

First sin was to fall in love with someone else’s woman.

You had been forced back through an incident; he didn’t expect you to return to what you had before, as if you had never left, but you did. What changed was for him when, by a twist of fate, Jean found himself spending a lot of time with you as you tried to teach him to write.

Vincent didn’t seem to mind so much. Although it wasn’t unusual for him to bring his sketchbook, sit at a distance and stay around until you were done. Jean felt a little guilty for taking so much of your time, but both of you were very reassuring whenever he voiced said guilt.

Then he found out what Vincent was so intently sketching. Most of his drawings were of you, but there were some of Jean himself.

Second sin was to fall in love with another man.

Vincent had already asked to paint Jean before, a little after Jean arrived at the mansion. He’d been a little insistent, until Theo got angry at Jean for continuously refusing his brother.

After the sketches, Vincent asked again, with you supporting him. And Jean couldn’t deny the two of you. Although you would say he didn’t need to, he thought it was a way he could repay you for all you were doing for him.

And that led to more time spent with both of you. And all the time spent with either of you was conflicting for Jean. You kept telling him how beautiful he was, or kind, or that he deserved forgiveness, deserved to live, and sometimes Jean caught himself wanting to believe.

Then he would realize his feelings once more, and how could he?

But was it still wrong when he wasn’t exclusively interested in him? When they would share a woman?

Probably.

Third sin was probably to fall in love with two people at the same time.

In fact, he wasn’t even sure if that was a sin, but it had to be wrong somehow. There was no way it was normal, and he would have judged it impossible had it not happened to him.

Was it so wrong, though? How could love be wrong?

Was it even love? How could a monster like him love someone?

He tried to run away then. From these questions. From your light and all its - in his mind, false - hope. He tried. But he was attracted to your light like a moth, and you reached back for him.

How could loving you be a sin, when you were so close to angels? That was how anyone would describe Vincent. And although that wasn’t attributed to you in words, they all loved you, and you were a light in everyone’s lives, helping each one of them heal from their own darkness.

But he was the one both of you chose to give your love to.

So, how could it be wrong? Would you make that choice even if it was wrong?

“Love is not a choice. Neither is it right nor wrong.” You spoke up, and Jean realized he’d asked it aloud.

“Is it another difference from your time?”

“My time is more accepting, but I won’t say it’s considered right. And maybe they’re right. Maybe it is wrong. But, as I said, it’s not a choice. Neither is it enough to condemn us.”

“I was conflicted too, when I started noticing these feelings. We’re not trying to say your views are wrong.” Vincent added. “We will understand if you don’t want to do this. But love is love, and our love is true. Never doubt that.”

Jean looked away from the two of you, with your bright, hopeful eyes and your all encompassing light, which was always too bright for him, but he couldn’t escape this time.

His gaze landed, unfortunately - or maybe fortunately, he would find out - on the painting Vincent had just presented him. The picture Jean thought looked nothing like him. Too bright. Too happy.

But Vincent said that was how he saw Jean, and doubting that would be doubting everything Vincent lived for. Because that was how Vincent painted; with that light he saw in everything.

“How do you know?”

“Because it is the same love we have for each other. I wasn’t sure it was possible, but this is the truth, and it will never change. But we’ll pretend this didn’t happen if you want to.”

“We just want to see you happy.” Vincent took one of his hands; his grip light enough for Jean to pull away if he wanted to. “But we had to let you know. To see our side of the story.”He motioned at the painting with his other hand. “And I wanted you to see the you that we see. Beautiful, body and soul.”

This time you reached out, hand resting on his cheek, thumb wiping away a tear.

“And even if you step away now, we’ll still be your friends.” Your hand aliped down slowly, coming to rest on his chest. “We’ll protect your heart. Your light. For as long as you live. Because we’ll always love you, at the distance you deem appropriate.”

You always said such hopeful things to him, which made him feel happier every time. But now, his heart felt so full, almost overflowing with love for you.

A part of him still wanted to run and hide from all your light. All the hope. All the love he didn’t deserve, and that he wasn’t so sure it was right. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, his hold on Vincent’s hand tightened, and he pulled both of you to him, then hugged you.

Maybe he was a fool for it, but he wanted to accept your love and tell you how he felt. He wanted to hope for the future by your side.

He couldn’t formulate the words right now. Maybe it would take some time before he could. But here, with you, he believed both of you had been sent into his life to give him a second chance.

Could he believe that? Could he dare hope for tomorrow? Would he really be forgiven?

Maybe he would always be conflicted like that, but you would always be there for him to reach out to whenever he had doubts. Whenever the darkness wanted to consume him again. The two people he loved more than anything.

Tag List: @tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles, @bicayaya, @eventinelysplayground

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

#PolyamShippingDay #ikemen vampire #ikevamp jean #ikevamp vincent #ot3: jean d'arc x vincent van gogh x reader #polyamory #ikevamp #fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic

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