#later on will would corner him and be like ‘just wanted to give my *proper* compliments to chef for dinner tonight’

[lokiiied]

in my wildest dreams orlando bloom makes a guest appearance in ofmd as will turner in all his flaunting bisexual pirate fucker glory

[charliemwrites]

Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“��S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

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Masterlist

[socksracoon10]

Hi love here I come with my first spontaneous idea 🩷

Reader is the Commodore's sister but sick of the ways of society. When Jack saves Elisabeth, reader is the one who persuaded James not to kill Jack and also the one he happens to threat in order to escape. She’s somehow drawn to the Captain and later gives Will the keys to the cell to set him free. Jacks thoughts circle around her, too and they reunite when she swings last minute from the Dauntless over to the Interceptor to join the pirates making way❣️

Curious of The Seas

A/N: Literally fell in love with your ask oh my god, couldn't stop thinking about it before I began writing!! Thank you so much for this request! Pairings: Jack Sparrow x F!Reader, Will Turner x F!Reader (Platonic), James Norrington x F!Reader (siblings)

"Don't slouch, stand straight," Commodore Norrington hissed at you. You glared at your brother, curving your lips downward. You hated how strict and loyal he was to the British Crown and how he enforced his rules onto you, despite being his "precious baby sister." 

Your brother didn't hate you, but he sure did a good job of making you hate him. He was pacing his quarters back and forth, rehearsing what he would say to Miss Elizabeth Swann upon meeting her. You rolled your eyes at the pathetic scene, realizing that if your brother were to marry Miss Swann you were next on the list for the most eligible bachelorette in Port Royal. Your body cringed at the thought and you wriggled your back to shake off the eerie feeling crawling down your spine and focused on trying to ease your brother at the moment.

"James, there is no point in stressing over something as simple as this. Tell her you are in love with-" You began but frowned when he interjected,

"Love? Don't be ridiculous!"

"So, you're not in love with her?" You inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no, I very much am in love with her. But it is not proper for a man such as myself to say trivial things to the daughter of the Governor!" Your brother reasoned and you sighed in an exasperated tone, shifting your gaze out the window.

Elizabeth had stared at you with a quizzical look on her face when your brother and you had first approached her. You both shared the same expression of disdain for the situation. It was very clear to see that she was indifferent to your brother and surely was the very last man that she had any interest for. You, on the other hand, dearly loved your brother and wanted to save him from any heartache that she would cause him. You chewed your lip nervously, watching them exchange a few words of greetings before walking away. The commodore glanced over his shoulder, mouthing a few warnings to reign your behavior in for the biggest moment of his life before stalking away.

Huffing in annoyance, you picked the ends of your dress up and marched past the Governor who was just about to start a conversation with you. He awkwardly shut his mouth and watched you walk away to stand on the other corner of the pillar where your brother and Elizabeth stood. He leaned backward to get a good look at you, sending you another glare before returning his full attention to the woman in front of him with a nervous smile. You sighed, gazing out to the sea. Your brother had taken you once beyond Port Royal when you were a little girl and he swore it was something he very much regretted; all you could ever do since then was talk about sailing the seas. You desired to travel across the world, collect artifacts, and live a free life. Your brother scoffed at your desires, stating that he would rather die than see his little sister galloping around like a pirate of all creatures.

As you gazed out into the horizons with a look of yearning, you heard the loudest splash from below. Peering over the edges of the wall, you frowned at the ripples that seemed to bloom near the rocks and you instantly pulled back from your position and walked around to notice your brother screaming Elizabeth's name.

"What did you do?" You exclaimed, resting a hand on his shoulder. He pulled away from your grasp, beginning to take his coat off but you grabbed hold of him,

"The rocks, James! She's lucky that she didn't hit them on her way down! Come, we can reach her at the docks!" You urged him, yanking his arm. He seemed instilled with distraught, at a loss for words, "She must've jumped by your mere presence!"

Your brother sent you a nasty scowl and the playful smirk on your lips faded away instantaneously. You knew this was no joking matter; the poor woman could've died on her way down and she was to be betrothed to him anyway. As your brother scampered off with the rest of the guards, you found your feet rooted to the ground as you stared up at the sky. Something was amiss. The clouds darkened and circled about gravely, and the sea no longer held its silky blue blanket to comfort you. Before you could try and comprehend what must've occurred, you felt an urgent tug around your arms and you sharply turned to find yourself facing the Governor.

"Come now, my dear, you mustn't dawdle around when my daughter's life is in danger!" He exclaimed and you frowned at his words, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him. Even if you wanted to help Elizabeth, there was surely no way you could swim into the waters with this puffy dress around you. You followed him down to the docks, pushing past the British officers to find yourself facing Elizabeth coughing up heaps of water from her lungs and then... a pirate.

With all the rifles surrounding him, you nearly thought they were aimed at your brother who stood in the way. You could only make out half his face, oblivious to the ensuing conversation that your brother was currently engaged in. You peeked around the Commodore's shoulder, carefully eyeing the strange man in your presence when his eyes flickered over to you for a sharp second before returning to your brother. Your breath hitched at the moment, taking in his disheveled and wet appearance as your brother remained as the shield between the man and you.

"He's a pirate," Your brother growled, his jaw clenching as he barked orders for his arrest. He ignored your gaping stare as he continued, "Sparrow, I assume?"

"Jack Sparrow?" You interjected, your mouth practically on the floor as you stared at him. The corner of the pirate's lips curved into a small smirk,

"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, love," He smiled with a wink. You smiled back before your brother forcefully shoved you behind him once again. He made a mental note to have a discussion with you about your behavior as soon as you returned home. He took the pirate's belongings and derided him for his lack of proper weapons, but it bothered him so deeply that you were so enchanted by the man. It irked him to think that his sister would fall foolish to a PIRATE of all people. He forcefully grabbed onto Jack's arm and began dragging him off before you cut him off,

"James! James!" You cried out, and your brother halted in his tracks and sent you a menacing scowl.

"Not another word from you, (Y/N)." He hissed, and you scoffed before pulling your skirt up ever so slightly to march up to your brother,

"This man, pirate or not, has just saved your betrothed's life! I suggest you at least show some mercy upon him!"

"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man's life of wickedness," Your brother corrected you as Jack was being handcuffed by a Redcoat.

"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Jack added, and you offered him a sympathetic look before turning to your brother with pleading eyes.

"Brother, please. I beg of you, consider an alternative for this man." You prodded him, as your eyes fell onto Elizabeth who smiled softly at your words.

"Please do so," Jack muttered, before dragging his bound hands around your neck. You gasped in response, tugging at the chains as your brother panicked.

"No one shoots!" The Commodore bellowed, holding his hands in the air, "Let go of my sister."

"Only if you return my belongings," Jack taunted with a haughty grin. He leaned closer to lowly utter into your ears, "You must be regretting your kindness, do you not?"

"I don't, but it seems that you'll regret it," You whispered, as you watched the guards hand in his belongings in a bundle. Jack nudged your back with his knee ever so lightly to grab hold of his things and you begrudgingly did so, before sharply turning around to face him.

"Now if you'll do me the pleasure... my, I don't think I know your name..." He said with a sly smirk. You frowned at him,

"It's Miss Norrington to you," You spat, placing his hat on. As you placed his sword, belt, and other personnel around him, you could feel his intense stare burning deep into you. If it was of lust or attraction, you did not know and at the moment did not necessarily care. Your mind was fixated on other things, and your brother was seething in rage as he watched Jack give him a look regarding your body against his that made him want to hurl. To think his sister was so close to a gruesome pirate! It was preposterous!

As you tied the last remaining string of his belt around him, you looked up at him with disgust. Not only was he a pirate, but this would be the talk of the town, and your brother's and your reputation would be spoiled. Your brother could easily regain his good fortune, but you were never as lucky. You hated the way the women would gossip and to think it was all spoiled over one man you decided to be too merciful with because your curiosity could not be controlled made you ready to commit arson.

"Is this how you repay me?" You hissed and the pirate smirked at your words,

"I saved your friend's life, and now you save me. Besides, you did after all wish for me to live. Now, suffer those consequences. When shall a beautiful lady such as yourself realize to never mess with a pirate?" He chuckled, before harshly turning you around with his gun aimed at your head. Your brother flinched at the sudden movement, making sure you were alright. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, you will always remember this as the day you almost caught Jack Sparrow," The pirate's voice boomed from behind you and the very next second you found yourself thrust upon your brother and Elizabeth. As Jack Sparrow hurriedly began his escape, he did not fail to include a personal message from his heart, "Thank you very much, Miss Norrington. I shall not ever forget such kindness!"

And you weren't ready to forget him, either. It would be for another reason. As the night raged on with a surge of pirates infiltrating Port Royal, you felt a growing desire to do something about it. Your brother had joined the Governor for his safety and left you at home to be tended to by the maids. Upon realizing that the front door would burst open regardless of the circumstances, you quietly slipped out the window in your nightly attire and made your way to the blacksmith's quarters where you knew for a fact that your good friend Will Smith would be. Will and you had grown as siblings; he was there for you more than your brother had been. He had anticipated your arrival anyway but found himself in jeopardy when his ears gathered the news that Elizabeth Swann had been abducted by the pirates. He was pacing around when you arrived and he quickly latched onto your shoulders,

"They've taken Elizabeth! I tried my best but-" Will began but you silenced him, bringing a hand to his mouth.

"I know what you must be going through. But there is not enough time. I heard you helped imprison Jack Sparrow." You whispered and he nodded his head, eyes wide as he tried to make the best of the situation, "Come, I have the key with me, we can both interrogate him and seek his help." Your hand fell to his own and led him towards the streets.

"Wait a minute," Will stopped you, and with a glance over your shoulder you already knew what he was about to say. He was going to prevent you from going. "(Y/N), I know you've always wished to escape Port Royal, but I cannot bring harm to you once you step foot onto the waters."

"Will," You chastised him, "I am no longer a little girl. I am very capable of handling my own matters."

"You are inexperienced, that's all I can say." Will rebuked your claim and you gasped at his words, before furrowing your brows,

"So are you!"

"Ah, but I shall be bringing Sparrow with me to help find Elizabeth."

"Oh, don't be so dull! I can help Sparrow and you as well. Do not prevent me from doing so! If it is out of fear that a pirate may do something towards a woman of my status, I assure you that no such thing will occur! If he dares to even look at me, I shall see to it that his eyes are gouged out by his blade!" You reasoned and Will took a step backwards, his lips parting in shock at your words. You had the spirit of a pirate in you that was for sure, and that was exactly what he feared.

"I cannot let you join. Your brother is... already facing loss," He replied in an awkward tone, considering how much he cared about Elizabeth, "He would be devasted to find you gone as well. Just stay put for now. I'm sure there shall be something more exciting for you in Port Royal."

You muttered a few unladylike curses under your breath and reluctantly offered him the key to the jail cell, "At least tell Sparrow that I was... delighted by his presence."

Will raised a suspicious eyebrow at your remark, unsure of how to respond. He nodded his head and then left you alone, as you brought your hands over your arms as your mind wandered towards the sea once again.

To say that Jack Sparrow was surprised by Will's statement regarding you would be an understatement. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you so willingly offered him the key to his escape, considering how he had humiliated your brother and especially you in front of everyone at the docks earlier in the day. He chewed his lip, his eyes dilating at the thought of you. The way you stared at him in defiance, your temples rising and falling with the way you clenched your jaw. Of course, who could forget the sensation of your fingers pressed up against him as you fastened his belt? As much of the ladies' man that Jack was, there was something different about you. You weren't like Giselle or Scarlet, complaining about superficial things or just merely trying to get into his pants. He could tell there was this curious spirit fighting to break free when he first laid eyes on you. The way you cautiously peered over your brother's shoulder had made him... well, he certainly wouldn't say his heart skipped a beat. He wasn't a silly little boy. He was a man! A grown man, a pirate! CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow, mind you. And yet here he was, trying to justify to himself that what he felt for you was nothing more than just infatuation that would surely pass on.

But it didn't. It never did. While of course, his thoughts about stealing The Interceptor were his priority, he just couldn't stand still without his mind fleeting over to the very image of you, dressed in that regal bright blue gown and your hair all curled and pinned to form the most exquisite portrait of a woman he'd ever seen in his life. He smirked to himself at the thought of you, wondering what you must be doing at Port Royal at the moment. What if your brother had you married off to someone else? What if you were to live the rest of your life as a boring wife to an equally boring officer? He shook his head, wriggling himself free from those imaginative concoctions. He was a pirate, damn it. He had better things to think about than just a woman he had seen days ago.

"You've got to be kidding me," Your brother grumbled as he pushed past you. You had boarded The Interceptor with him, not because you had wanted to - even though you took every chance out on the sea with gratefulness - but because your brother was so worried about the possibility of your abduction that he wished you were beside him at all times. Including those incredibly still moments of him gazing out into the sea. To him, he seemed to have an air of control, all the world's burdens upon his shoulder. This was his duty. When you gazed out into the sea, however, it was a plethora of possibilities. The unmarked territories you could claim, the desire for you to seek out treasure from all corners. You could be free. And no one would stop you. Save your brother, but that was something he'd always do anyway. Your attention focused on The Dauntless a couple hundred meters away as you noticed flocks of the British crew on small boats were paddling towards the ship you were in. Your brother gazed through his telescope and snarled at the sight, hesitantly passing the device for you to see as well. From afar, you saw Will Turner and... Jack Sparrow? The pirate? Both of them were flapping their arms around trying to make use of the mast. You guffawed at the sight, laughing at them. You turned to face your brother who quickly reminded you with his gaze about your behavior and you swallowed the amusement away as fast as you could.

The two ships - The Dauntless and The Interceptor - were locked horns now and your brother ordered you to come with him to board The Dauntless and put an end to Sparrow's madness. You reluctantly agreed, your eyes scanning around to see any sight of the familiar pirate you had so longed to see. 

"Search every cabin, every hull," Your brother barked, before turning back to you, "And you stay close to me. Do not go wandering about like a fool like you always do." 

You glowered at him, electing not to anger him any further as you stood on the deck. You watched him disappear among the surge of officers onto The Dauntless. You sighed, pacing back and forth when you noticed two men swing over to The Interceptor. It was Will and Jack.

Eyes widening in surprise, you tried to call attention to the situation but your cries fell on deaf ears. You stomped your foot and watched Jack cut off the rope ties, one by one. His gaze was fixed downwards until he looked up momentarily, and there you stood. He stood there for a few more seconds, completely surprised by your presence. Deep down, as much as he hated to admit it, he feared that he would never see you again.

"What are you doing? Cut the rope!" Will cried out in confusion before he followed Jack's eyes to you. Jack looked upwards at the rope still connecting the two boats before turning back to you,

"Jump, Miss Norrington!" He instructed, and you stepped forward, holding onto a long piece of rope. Upon hearing your name, your brother rushed out of the Captain's Quarters, pushing past his men.

"(Y/N)!" He yelled, his eyes daring you to make another move. Realizing that this was the only opportunity to acquire what you had spent so long yearning for; the deep blue seas, the adventure, and the whimsical treasures, you sent him one final glance before running off the deck of The Dauntless and swinging onto The Interceptor. With the final rope now gone, and the ship sailing forward at full speed your brother looked at you as if you were dead to him.

When The Dauntless was far behind and there seemed to be no danger at the present moment, you walked towards your friend Will and the pirate beside him. Will seemed elated that you were there, and he hugged you so warmly that you nearly forgot that he was not related to you by blood. Releasing you from his arms, he sheepishly stepped aside as Jack Sparrow stepped forward.

"Miss Norrington, it is a pleasure to have you on board with us. I almost feared you might not have the guts to swing over," He teased, his hand graciously wrapping around your own as he kissed your fingers with such gentleness that it surprised you. You cracked half a smile at him, narrowing your eyes, before responding,

"You may call me (Y/N), and please, I never turn down an opportunity for adventure."

[lucabyte]

Finally: The NoHats AU doodles. Plus some sprite edits.

Usually I'd let things speak for themselves and keep my chattering in the tags, but I'll ramble about my context thoughts...

So. First of all here's a link (x) to the Nohats Origin Post for those coming in and going ????.

Anyway. These doodles are not in any obvious chronological order, though Loop going from pilfered bandolier (my headcanon for how Siffrin has all those pockets) -> custom outfit made by Isabeau, is supposed to generally denote 'just after the ending' -> 'a few months down the line'.

And speaking of, Design & Characterisation notes:

Overall: NoHats is suppooooosed to have the range to not just be ULTIMATE MISERY ALL THE TIME (but if you're a major whump/angst fan. go fucking nuts.) so these are supposed to be. The steps toward overcoming and living with grief but. The Misery Is Kind Of The Punchiest Part.... Oops....

Mirabelle: Taking the lead, continuing to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. In the game proper she's already shown to, while yes, be emotionally fragile at times, be prone to trying to hold the team together. I feel she'd do the same here. It also would help that she'd presumably be medicated again? But I can't imagine her chosen-one anxieities would be super ailed by the death of her friend. I wanted to try and give her more differences? She follows the change belief after all and is thus liable to switch up her style in general... But I didn't have a strong vision for this, so. The ball is in anyone's court. Her design changes here are keeping one of Sif's safety pins a la qpr bonding earring, and has the bell pendant at Loop's (oddly pushy) suggestion.

Isabeau: Taking it. Badly. Depression mullet and beard in tow. However, you best believe he is trying real badly to hide it. Loop very much does not reveal their identity to him because What The Fuck Would That Even Do. That's Scary. but they do try to comfort him while mentally regarding him "off limits". Backs themselves into some very unfortunate corners by alluding to their unfulfilled relationship with their Fighter as a point of common ground. I don't imagine this would go super great when recontextualised later after Loop is inevitably found out. Just in general oh good god what the fuck. this is like a radioactive pit of survivor's guilt.

Bonnie: Taking it probably The Worst. This is a child. Who was already feeling guilt. This is who everyone else is trying to keep it together for. Mirabelle and Isabeau would likely be putting up far less of a front without Bonnie around. They take the hat and take on Pocket Duty. They also have slightly more sif-y hairstyle but... Don't worry about it. They'd have Nille to fall back on once she's picked back up, and Loop almost certainly attempts to redouble efforts on making them feel better but seeing as how closed-off Bonnie can already be, it'd likely be difficult. However they would probably take Loop's identity reveal best...?

Odile: Odile's design.... ! Does not seem to have changed? How odd! Well. I'm sure she's dealing with things in a regular and non-cloistered manner. I already think that a regular Postcanon Activity for Odile could be her finding out about the potential for sif/loop to translate books and thus Knowledge in their native tongue assuming that ability sticks around postgame. Something something culture can never truly be wiped out etc etc. But putting it in this context. Makes it more desperate, more of a deflection for something else.

Loop: Helpful Loop. Well. They win! I feel like the entirety of ISAT being about Siffrin's mental state means I don't need to spill much ink here? You get it I think. I can't outdo the source material man. Anyway I imagine Loop is given clothes by Isabeau before they know who they are, but after they've become genuine friends. The outfit is in genuineness, on both sides from Loop and Isa, in having the cloak be a nod in respect to Siffrin, since Loop's "shared culture" would have to come up vis a vis cultural funerary traditions. Hard to avoid divulging that one...

[seresinhangmanjake]

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader on her period

Summary: Feyd doesn’t like anyone keeping him from his wife’s side, especially when she’s in pain. 

*Based on an anon ask. Whoever that was, I hope this makes it to you :)*

Notes/Warnings: the subject is reader’s period; period pain; naive Feyd; threatening and aggressive Feyd; soft Feyd; Feyd hates everyone but his wife; allusion to period sex but no actual smut, mention of pregnancy. 

Words: 1150

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

“Get out of my way!” he snaps from the other side of the bedroom door, and you swell with guilt as you imagine your handmaid shivering like an unprotected baby critter. Which, in Giedi Prime, is exactly what she is. 

She’s your critter that, at your request three weeks ago, Feyd agreed to have accompany you from your home planet following the wedding. You wanted something familiar and comfortable within reach and told him her presence would support you in adapting to your new life as his wife.

At the time, you took his compliance as a promising sign. He didn’t particularly care for the people of Caladan, but he cared for you enough to set aside his distaste for an additional outsider in his palace. But that distaste never fails to return tenfold whenever the Caladanian traditions and practices that your handmaid refuses to let go of get in Feyd’s way. 

“Move!” you hear in that menacing tone. 

You want to rush to her defense before things get out of hand, but you can’t so much as shift on the bed without your body aching. 

“M-My Lord,” Nadya stutters. “It’s not proper to see my Lady in her condition.”

A groan rips from your throat from more than just the pain in your abdomen. You’ve tried to explain to her that the Harkonnens do not abide by the same parameters of modesty that your people do, but she’s not nearly as open-minded when it comes to accepting a different lifestyle. However, she needs to shut her mouth and let him pass. There are much worse things than your husband witnessing you in the throes of monthly bleeding. 

Feyd practically growls, and then you hear the scrape of a metal knife unsheathing and a light feminine gasp. 

“I have not killed you solely because she requested it of me,” he says. “But if you refuse to let me see my wife, then I have no reason to continue my generosity and you will be offered to my harpies for their nighttime meal.”

Fuck. You know he’ll do it. Your husband is an ‘ask for forgiveness, not permission’ kind of man, and the fact that his harpies have been eyeing your handmaid for a while only encourages his mind’s reasoning. 

Reaching toward your nightstand, your fingers wrap around the handle of the little service bell you were given and give it a shake. A moment later, the door opens a crack. 

“My Lady,” your handmaid says in response to your call. She attempts to slip her body through a narrow opening between the door and its frame to prevent your husband’s entry, but Feyd shoves her aside at the first opportunity and rushes inside the room. 

His brow furrows at the sight of your body curled into a ball. “My love…” he mutters, racing to your side and kneeling by the bed. He takes your hand and weaves your fingers together, his worried gaze raking over your form. “What happened? What is this?”

“My Lady, I tried to stop–”

“Quiet!” Feyd snaps, shooting your handmaid a glare. “I’ll still gut you!”

Your fingers squeeze his to draw his attention back to you. “Go, Nadya. It’s ok,” you tell her. “My husband can take care of me.”

Feyd lips curl upward slightly, but his anxiety over your current state blocks a full-fledged smile from forming. His other hand raises to cup your cheek and you hum under his soft touch. 

In the corner of your eye, you can see Nadya hesitate. The frown on her face is prominent enough to be detected without your gaze directly upon her. But her agitation must cease. She has to learn and conform if she values her life. There is only so much you can do to protect her, and if Feyd reaches the breaking point of his willingness to allow opposition within his own marriage—especially due to someone who is neither you nor him—it’s unlikely you’ll be able to sneak her onto a ship and transport her back to Caladan before she is executed. 

You’ll have another discussion with her—the fourth, you think—once your body decides to end its self-punishment; assuming she survives that long. For the moment, at least, she has accepted your instruction and left you alone with your husband. 

“You’re hurting,” Feyd says once Nadya is gone. “How do I stop it?”

“It’ll stop in a couple of days.”

“Days?” he echoes, offended at the information. “I want it to stop now!” 

You sigh, placing your hand atop the one holding your cheek. “That would be nice, but that's not how it works,” you tell him. A pang of pain stabs your stomach and you moan.  

“How what works?” he rushes out.

“My monthly–” 

You pause at the curious expression on his face, and you realize he has no idea what you're talking about. You thought it was obvious what was wrong with you. You thought he understood. But then you remember he has lived a life with no mother, no sisters, no female relatives. There was no one to explain to him the unfair complexities of being a woman. And the Baron certainly wouldn’t have bothered. The way that man-beast mentally operates teaches that women are good for producing heirs, and in that respect, all Feyd would have needed to learn is how to stick his hard cock between a woman’s legs. To your appreciation, he does that quite well, but still, it’s surprising as much as unsurprising that your husband is so naive. 

Before you can expand your answer, Feyd says, “I’m not letting this happen ever again.”

You chuckle. “It’s monthly, my love, and I’m afraid it only doesn’t happen if I’m pregnant.” 

“Then I’ll make you pregnant,” he responds with an air of great determination. “And I’ll keep you that way.”

You’re instantly obsessed with the thought; perhaps too much considering you’ve known the man for two months and have been married to him for significantly less, but you do love him. And being filled with his baby creates an image that swirls a fire in your belly to combat some of the deep ache. 

You grin but it lasts only a second before your teeth are forced to clench, eyelids pinching shut at another wave of agony.

“I hate this,” Feyd says, brushing your hair back from your face.

Once you ride out the wave, your eyes open to meet his. “You know,” you start, your breath heavy. “I’ve heard rumors from other women back home about something that helps with the pain.” Feyd’s features eagerly come to life. “It’s a bit messy, though.”

“Whatever it is, my love, I’ll do it.”

“Ok,” you say, a lazy smile curving your lips. “Take off your clothes.”

Feyd’s eyes widen at the request. And then he smirks.

[tswkento]

“you’re doing it wrong.”

“what?! i did just like you showed me!”

“no, itadori-kun, you’re rushing—”

you stifled a giggle as you watched nanami and yuuji from the gap behind the door to the latter’s dormitory, eyes zooming in on nanami’s blank face and yuuji’s exasperated expression.

“watch me do it again. attentively, this time.” nanami gave yuuji a pointed look as he undid his tie and stood in front of the mirror, monitoring his pace and yuuji’s gaze.

the pink-haired boy looked very much anxious but concentrated at the same time, brows furrowed together with a deep crease between them and his tongue peeking out from his mouth as he tried his best to memorize nanami’s smooth movements.

kento always looked so elegant while preparing for work and it was no wonder how the most satisfying part of his routine was him putting his clothes on and adding the little things that screamed “nanami kento”. his fitting wristwatch, his blunt sword hidden in the holster and his never changing printed tie.

it wasn’t surprising to see yuuji asking for help from nanami with his tie, but the sight was so adorable you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling stupidly wide. it was surely something to tease kento about later; although he never really denied the soft spot he had for yuuji in particular. you were sure he was enjoying this moment as much as you were, probably even more than you.

“argh—! i give up, i’m just gonna go without a tie.”

nanami shook his head disapprovingly, turning to yuuji and gently guiding the boy to stand in front of himself, hands settling on his black tie that was becoming less and less crisp from the amount of touching it went through.

“absolutely not, young man. i’ll do it for you this time, but you will have to learn at some point.” he scolded calmly whilst his fingers expertly twisted the fabric, making a knot identical to the one on his own tie.

yuuji glanced away, cheeks dusting with red as he chuckled, seemingly embarrassed from so much attention. he stepped away when nanami nodded, pointing at the mirror so the boy could take a proper look at himself.

“ah, how do you do it so easily? i’ll just have megumi teach me. don’t wanna bother you any more than i already do.”

nanami froze behind him, eyes tentatively roaming over itadori’s face, and after a few seconds, let out a heavy sigh, willing himself to stand behind itadori, a warm hand on his shoulder as he gave the young man a sincere look.

“itadori… i want you to come to me if there’s anything you need help with. be it a persistent curse or a something as simple as tying a tie.”

you felt your own breath hitch at nanami’s words, heart overflowing with emotion because he said exactly what you thought he would say, making you melt along with comforting yuuji. you sniffled quietly as covered you mouth, blinking away the incoming tears because their conversation was coming to an end.

the boy beamed at nanami’s words, “thanks, nanamin!”

“please don’t call me that. i’ll be taking my leave now.

you hurriedly stepped away from the door in time with nanami coming out and smiled sheepishly at when realisation passed over his face, one brow raising questioningly as he led you both away from itadori’s room.

“your eyes are red. were you crying?”

“not quite, but i was close,” you snorted, hand sneaking down to squeeze around his fingers, relishing in the feeling of his warmth as you pressed yourself against his side. “i adore the way you treat yuuji. it makes me think about how much of a great father you’ll be.”

nanami looked at your face, eyes slowly scanning over it as if to check on the truthfulness of your words, and the corners of his lips twitched when he found no trace of insincerity.

“you don’t know just how much your words mean to me, do you?”

[deceptive-daydreams]

I Want Your Midnights

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

A New Year’s party at the mansion where you and Logan pretty much sneak away to dote on each other

Contains: Tooth-rotting fluff, drinking, allusions to sex, slight angst for like 2 seconds

This is just a cute little thing I thought up but also this is my first time writing for Logan, pls be gentle.

Champagne lingered on his tongue, you could taste the slight bitterness and nearly recreate the bubbly fizz you’d basked in just minutes ago.  Since then, it had been teeth clashing together mixed with endless kisses and large hands pawing at your dress.  He’d been scooping up handfuls of you like he’d never get enough, like it’d never satiate his hunger, his pure desire for you.

Maybe it was the tipsy haze you’d found yourselves in but the corner of the party quickly became your paradise, an island meant only for the two of you while everyone else counted down the seconds.  They gathered in front of the TV with their champagne flutes in hand, seeking the ones they’d kiss and embrace into the new year.

Meanwhile you’d started early, nipping on one another’s lips, noses squished to cheeks, fingers tangled in hair.  “Be right there” turned into a false statement, a lie you told to Rogue when she waved you both over into the family room.  You didn’t mean to lie, it’s just that gravity kept you in Logan’s lap, rendering you useless and unable to recall the proper motor skills to carry yourself into the other room.

Logan grinned, an uncontrollable thing that he’d deny anyone else saw should they ask the following day.  And before you could tease him, all smiley and eyes crinkled, he nuzzled into your cheek, nearly purring like a well fed cat but rather than food, your attention kept him beyond satisfied.

“Happy New Year.”  

At this he rolled his eyes, more playful as opposed to his usual standoffish self.  Always more playful in your presence.

Remnants of a deep rouge painted his upper lip, the color bleeding into his skin, coating some of his stubble.  As your thumb trailed along his scratchy jaw, you admired your unintentional artistry, hints of red that just belonged.

He was too handsome for his own good, so much so that you’d taken it upon yourself earlier in the night to undo the top buttons of his shirt.  A miniscule gesture that warned him of your intentions for later, a means to tease but done so elegantly in the plain sight of party guests and your closest friends.  

He’d caught your wrist then, a delicate yet firm hold as he muttered “Careful, doll.”  Your face had gone hot, flustered under his dark, heavy-lidded gaze.

That’s how you’d ended up in the corner, taking it upon yourselves to give into the hunger taunting you both in the midst of lurking eyes, marveling at him, at The Wolverine, soft and pliable in your possession.  

Tame.

Only you would be able to gently tuck a glass of champagne into his large hand that usually clung stubbornly to a beer.  Only you could so nonchalantly place it in his hold without a single gripe.  And it drew the attention of nosy acquaintances and even well loved friends as they stared.

Logan didn’t care for staring.

It wasn’t lost on you that he was so used to the universe working against him, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, just patiently welcoming disaster as if it were an old friend, as if it’s all he’d ever known.  Cause it was.  But with you, there had finally been peace and that terrified him.

He didn’t have to say it.  You just knew.

Intimacy scared him, getting close scared him.  And it took attempt after attempt to even scratch the surface of his ever-bleeding heart, to even begin to bandage it up and create some sort of healing process because prior to you, liquor had been his chosen antidote for life’s tragedies.

After several lingering stares, you could feel the way he’d tensed up.  He hated attention like this, didn’t know what to do with it other than scowl and storm off.  Which is why you lured him into this particular corner before his thoughts could get to him and yank him out of his content state, soon to banish him back to his room where he could fester.

Now you had him right where you wanted him, pink cheeked and kiss bitten, gazing at you through his eyelashes like the flirt you knew he could be.  A warm hand rested on your hip, thumb tracing the fabric of your dress again and again, almost to soothe himself rather than you.

“What, you’re too manly man to say it back?”  You taunted, dropping your voice an octave to mimic him.  Then, all too sweetly you batted your lashes, “Aren’t you gonna wish me a Happy New Year?”

“You’re a brat.”

You only pouted, overdoing it as you puckered your bottom lip the farthest it could go, eyebrows raising unnecessarily high.  You were always so much more expressive than him, something that pulled laughs from deep within his belly if he wasn’t careful.  Earning a true Logan laugh had become the highest honor, it only ever happened in the solitude of your room when you’d pull the most ridiculous jokes out of your ass that made no sense whatsoever but left him hunched over gasping for air.  It didn’t help if he was sleep deprived either, which was usually the case when he’d show up to your room in the dead of the night.

No one knew about the Logan laugh, no one but you and you’d keep that like an oath.  He rarely let his guard down but you’d been able to coax him out from behind the walls he built.

Playing with the hair at his nape, you leaned in, whining “Am not!”

Logan hummed, his forehead pressing against yours.  “That so?”  To which you hummed back, lovesick in the eyes.

From the other room, the chorus of counting echoed against the walls, the remaining ten seconds of the current year before the slate would be wiped clean.  Logan never believed any of that shit, he’d complained about so called “new starts” and “resolutions”, how they were false hope.  And yet he’d attended the party anyway, because although he didn’t believe in any of it, you did.

“3…2…1…”

“Happy New Year, Logan.”  You tried again,  gently molding your lips to his.

Rather than recite the words back, he cradled your head in one hand, the other cupping your face while he deepened the kiss, something passionate and dizzying.  Something so unlike the animal the world made him out to be.

Truth be told, being an animal happened to just be a piece of him, a piece that you’d never ask him to downplay or rid himself of.  But in moments like these, that animal surrendered to a more domesticated side, submissive in some manner, in a means of absolute devotion to his person.

He’d been hard headed and mean, you couldn’t lie and say he’d never been harsh with you before he let you in, but the harder you tried the harder he found it to push you away.  He knew the moment you cracked him and burrowed into his skin, into the cavern of his ribs where his cold heart rested, would be the moment he realized it was the beginning of the end for him.  For as many wars as he had been in, the most violent had been love each and every time. 

Logan fought hard.

But he loved even harder.

Instead of reciting the words back to you, he’d offered you something far more endearing.  He pulled away ever so slightly, a strand of saliva still connecting you, nose nudging into yours as his thumb caressed the highest point of your cheek.  His eyes regarded you with such admiration, a spark in them only he permitted you to witness.

“I love you.”

—

Well into the early hours of New Year’s Day, when the party had died out and girls were wandering around like zombies with their heels hanging off their fingertips, you and Logan had snuck into the kitchen.  Just as everyone was wrapping up their festivities, you two had only just begun as you reached for some cold slices of pizza and sat atop the counter across from each other.

“Tired yet?”  Logan asked as you yawned, a knowing smirk on his face.

Releasing your hair from the confines of your perfectly imperfect hairstyle, you smiled lazily, confirming “Exhausted.  Just exhausted.”  

“Gettin’ old like me.”  He teased.

Again, you pouted, an exaggerated plump lip jutting out toward him as you hopped off the counter, collecting empty bottles on your way to throw out a pizza box.

“No one’s old like you.”  You quirk a brow.

“Ouch.”  He smiled, finishing off his beer and following your lead, collecting the remaining empty bottles.

You didn’t bother turning around to see him grinning but you knew by his tone, the unmistakable sound of his upturned mouth.  “Oh, you’re my old man and you know that.”  With a sigh, you tie off a garbage bag, hiking it over your shoulder before you feel the weight of it disappear, instead a gentle hand lingers on your waist.

“Watch it, princess.”  He warns, giving your hip a squeeze before swatting at your ass, passing you to take the garbage out.  And as your lovesick eyes hold him in your sight for as long as possible, he opens the door with a wink before stepping out into the cold.

In his absence you busied yourself with tidying up the rest of the kitchen, discarding party horns and kicking balloons out into the hall.  It was Storm’s idea to go all out this year, usually you’d settle for a slumber party to ring in the new year but she’d insisted that there was change to be had and a majority of the others agreed.  It wasn’t often that Charles would allow for loud, extravagant parties but with a few ground rules, everything came to life.

Now it appeared as if the house was empty although it was anything but as everyone had relocated upstairs to pass out for the night.  A few individuals lingered in the family room, snores faintly heard down the hall as you chuckled to yourself.

A pile of confetti on one of the counters caught your eye, underneath it appeared to be a collection of polaroids, the ones Rogue had been taking all night of everyone.  They had been temporarily forgotten amongst celebrations and toasting but come tomorrow they would showcase precious moments printed in time that everyone would treasure. 

One in particular pulled a gasp from you, the kind that made your heart ache in the best way possible.  Right before your eyes on glossy paper was the tender moment between you and Logan in your secluded corner, or what you had thought to have been secluded at the time.  You sat in his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck while he gazed up at you with adoration dripping from his expression.  Both of his large hands held your waist and it seemed you were talking his ear off.  The moment seemed so fragile, your cautious fingers holding it by the corner.  

Just as your eyes well up with unprecedented emotion, familiar lips press against your temple, strong arms wrapping around you from behind.  

“What do we have here?”  Logan murmurs into your skin, “Most sexy woman alive taking pity on the old man-“

“Shut up.”  You laugh wetly as you turn in his arms to push at his chest, still holding onto the photo like a delicate artifact.  At this rate it would have to be pried out of your cold, dead hands.

Logan’s brown eyes softened on you, his knuckles reaching up to brush your cheek before asking, “What’s wrong, bub?”  

What he failed to realize was that nothing had been wrong at all.  In fact, it was the total opposite.  For once everything had been exactly how it should be.  You were right where you should be.  Years of trying to fit in meant nothing to you when you fit so effortlessly right in his arms, right by his side, just with him.  

“Nothing.”  You whispered.  And meant it this time. 

[shanieveh]

“ forget me not... ”

synopsis: neuvillette, too late to confess his love to you, is drowning from the suffering and regret that came along with it, especially after knowing that you felt the same all along.

tags: gn!reader x neuvillette, depression and low self-esteem, bittersweet ending, mentions of freminet, lynette and melusines, heavily implied reader death and neuvillette also kinda wanting to die

a/n: people want this and i have came to deliver (hopefully) enjoy~ this is my first long fic that i published

How can this be….?

Neuvillette sat in the corner of his office, all your letters in his right hand. How can you say you loved him… how dare you describe the love, the passion, everything you felt for him when he can't even say it back.

How can you love someone so unlovable?

His silent cries can't match up to the violent outbursts of the skies outside. Days went by when he first found out, the melusines were scared to death about who would report it to him. The way you dissolved into water, not even seeing you for the last time—not having the privilege to have a proper funeral.

He failed you… the monsieur wasn't too sure on many things but this one was certain.

Reading your diaries, knowing your thoughts and hopes for the future. It was an invasion of privacy but also in a way… the last remnants of your existence. One such entry was that of three years ago where you first met.

Encountering this, a profuse blush colored his face. The adjectives being used "handsome", "tall" and "kind" for your first meetingwith the chief justice. Far from the truth really, although Neuvillette knew you meant every word.

You always did.

You always were an honest person.

The very first day his lavender eyes met yours, to the very last. There was never a trace of impurity or a hint of a liar. Of course, the verdict went in your favor, because to him a precious rose like you can never steal and the plaintiffs were wrong.

Reading it now, not even a slightly negative comment was made to those who wrongly accused you.

"Maybe they had their reasons, after all, I was also in need of money at that time." you wrote. Adding on that you defended the "Monsieur Neuvillette" when people called "such a man of honor and kindness" a "merciless and arrogant man".

A man of honor and kindness? Your words became running thoughts in the hydro dragon's head. That day was one of the only days he didn't cry after a trial. Neuvillette was just happy that such a person of integrity was cleared of their name.

He turned through the pages of the diary, how you taught him to socialize and even mend his relationship with the hydro archon.

"Monsieur Neuvillette was too adorable! Being with a person of lowly status and treating me with such respect and humility, he truly is the epitome of mercy and loveliness."

How can you be so blind? Anyone with eyes will know that it's a privilege to be with someone so beautiful, especially to be with someone like Neuvillette. A cold and repulsive soul. You make him sound like a good person, when in fact he isn't both good and human.

He was a monster… these words of humanity you always used to describe a monster. Why do they sound so genuine? Why do they look so real? Maybe only you can make him like that, you and only you.

A few pages later he finally saw the words…

Words that should've made him scream in euphoria… tore him to a million pieces. Because even before this he already loved you… because you had so much time to confess but never did… and never will.

"I think I'm in love with the chief Justice."

And after that, he couldn't even get himself to read, he couldn't. His eyes got so blurry to see, his heart became too heavy to feel. Why were you… why you? In a world filled with monsters, they chose an angel. They chose a soul that still wanted to live, love and give. Those demons… despicable.

Remembering his shortcomings, maybe in some way he could've avoided all of this. Neuvillette shouldn't have given you his blessing to investigate the serial disappearance case.

But that glint of adventure in your eyes… he was too soft to reject you.

It was all his fault.

Wiping his tears he looked at the last entry of the diary… Oh.

Oh.

"After this investigation, I'll finally confess to him… I surely hope Neuvillette feels the same way, I even planted some forget-me-nots to give him in the backyard so that he'll know when it rains and he weeps. I will always be here."

The chief justice didn't know what was coming to him but he started running… and only then can he see the state of Fontaine. Many flowers have wilted and only a few people were outside. What had he become..?

"What's up with this weather? It isn't even the rainy season yet?!" A shop owner complained.

"I know! My crops have been drowning these days, at this rate if it doesn't stop we'll have a famine!"

It was all his fault, his running turned to a slow walk taking in all that he had done. This was all because of him. The lonely streets, the lowered morale. This was all because—

"Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, please don't cry!"

He turned to the voice and saw a young boy in the distance. Neuvillette remembered now, his name was Freminet. That child on which you doted extremely, giving him sweets and hushing his tears. The chief justice quickly let go of his gaze and continued to walk.

"You see Freminet, it didn't work... let's go inside."

The response was that of a stoic young woman, but he just continued his legs even if they wanted to rest all to see the last thing you cared for… those flowers. And when he finally was at the destination he saw it immediately outside.

It was in the bushes, he couldn't miss it. Every corner of your house was haunted, every tiny thing was a memory. The chairs you painted, the drawings pinned in the cabinet of you and him with the melusines. It was precious. All of it. Just as you are.

He finally saw them, most were almost to bloom and some were wilted. Picking one he unconsciously kissed it, perhaps mistaking it for you. These flowers were made to remind him he was never alone, but now he is.

More alone than he can ever be in one lifetime. Your scent still filled every corner, a remembrance of the biggest "what if" in his life. Your will stated that every single thing of yours is his just as you were always his. Bittersweet was he when reading it.

Neuvillete forgot that too included your house, maybe he was too consumed with your thoughts to visit this place. He was twisting the poor flower that looked so tiny compared to his hand. Perhaps that's what it's like to be with him. It's a curse…

He continues to caress the flowers, to treat them as if they were you. You were wrong on one thing about this, even if there were no flowers he will never forget you. Never, no way! The love he has for you can destroy nations and can cause millions of sacrifices. Just to keep you, to see your smile again.

But he can't even do that, you didn't give him the privilege to do something for you. If only he knew, he would've… done everything for you. The love that can create the strongest of floods failed to protect the one person he was supposed to protect.

At that moment, he felt the waters, the ocean, his home… you. It made his crying bearable, somewhat. Grief that could surpass a lifetime, wasn't enough. Nothing he can do will ever be enough to have you again. Perhaps he should also leave this world to stop being a burden to the people… and maybe to see you again.

"Neuvillette…"

Now he was even imagining your voice, or was he? Maybe he was delusional but he still followed your voice even if it took him to an unknown path. But the end was in a small pond, where you used to keep the fish, all of which were alive and well.

"Neuvillette…?"

At this he didn't even care if was going insane, your voice sounded like a melody even if it uttered his name. It sounded like a rare jewel, a myth, a prophecy too good to be true.

"Darling?" He replied in a hopeful tone. He looked through his surroundings, no longer was he in a pond but a terrain of boundless water. In the middle was a flying Oceanid, a spirit. Was it—could it be?

"Even I could feel the heavy pouring of rain, monsieur… don't be sad."

It was indeed your spirit, a part of you that remained before that bastard—he'll make whoever did this pay. It wasn't for justice anymore, this one is for revenge.

"How can I not? When I have failed you over and over again, I couldn't even get to say…"

"That you love me?"

His eyes widened, looking at you. Even if it didn't look like you, he knew… he always did. A nod soon followed after that, it was barely noticeable even at this rate the chief justice was a bit shy saying it.

"I just don't know why you could ever say you love me, how you could even think of me so kindly. Why? How? How can you love me back?" He was clueless to what you mean.

"How can I not?"

The reply you uttered was one of a teary-eyed person. Even to this moment you still haven't accepted you had died, not when he was still alone needing you.

"Just as you said… how can I not? You out of all people my dear… know of the sacrifices we make for the person we love."

It was that moment where you took your normal form, you looked beautiful as the day he lost you. As beautiful as the day you met. And as you walked towards him, the clock ticking until your final goodbye, it was time.

"I love you Neuvillette, i always had and continue to do so." For the last time, you cupped his cheek and kissed him.

"I love you, darling from the very beginning and every single lifetime to come." He let go of the kiss and hugged you tight, closing his eyes, until you disappeared not knowing he was hugging his own.

Opening his eyes, the rain was long gone, and what remained were the flowers in the bushes, the ponds, the fish, and him. Maybe… just maybe he will bring you and the other victims to light.

Until then, this one last encounter and goodbye will make him content. He was sure… that finally his love will be at rest.

[random-writer-23]

~~~Soft girldad Logan, domesticity and fluff because I need him, what is this the 3rd Logan fic in 3 days?! I think I have a problem guys, not edited I just kind of word vomitted this one out so I could write the idea before I forgot it~~~

Girldad Logan would be the softest mf I fear, like solely based on the fact that he folded so quickly after kicking Rogue out of his car, like he drove what 10 feet before stopping and taking her with him, and like giving her food and making sure she’s warm and like she’s not even his kid. Shit she got into his car and almost immediately started insulting his trailer and he just let it happen. He literally just said yoink you’re my daughter now, So like imagine the care he’ll have for his own kids!!

He comes home after a long day at work, kicking his shoes off at the door, dropping his keys onto the side table by the door. Grumbling about some shit his boss said at work, rubbing the weariness from his face, when he hears the tiny pitter patter of feet running in the next room, laughter and warmth emanating from the living room and he’s drawn to it. Dropping his tiredness and worries at the door as he walks into the living room and sees his girls playing in the living room. His daughters jump up running over to him.

“DADDY” they squeal as he kneels down to their height opening his arms for the two of them to jump in to, he grunts as they dogpile on top of him wrapping their small arms around his neck burying their faces in his shoulder.

“There’s my pretty girls” He smiles holding them tight against him, his hands resting on the back of their head and he holds them tight, standing up and taking them with him holding them in his arms as his eyes finally land on his beautiful wife. “And there, is my pretty woman” He grins as she makes her approach, she’s positively glowing radiating a warmth he’s grown to need. She wraps her arms around him leaning into his chest and he stands there surrounded by his girls, his family and all the tension and stress from work seeps other of him in waves. His younger daughter squirms in his arms and he knows his time for a group hug is over. His wife steps away, a smile on her face as he bends down putting the girls back on the floor, they scurry off going back to playing with whatever toys they had before he’d entered the room. He straightens up finally able to give his gorgeous wife a proper hello. “And how are you doing lovely” He huffs his voice heavy with stress.

“I’m good” She giggles letting him wrap his arms around her burying his face in the crook of her neck. “How was work” She asks and he groans.

“Shit” he mumbles breathing her in.

“Oh my poor baby” she laughs running her hands through his hair and he grumbles.

“Yeah, your poor baby…. so sad and stressed… needs a little relief” He murmurs his lips finding the junction of her neck placing delicate kisses on the exposed skin weaseling his hands under her shirt resting them on the small of her back as she laughs.

“Logan” she murmurs warningly.

“What, what…” He says defensively lifting his head from her neck. “Is it a crime to want to love my wife?” He huffs, cupping her face with gentle hands.

“No, not a crime but” She doesn’t get to finish as she’s interrupted by their oldest daughter tugging on his arm.

“Daddy come play with me… please” she begs giving him her best puppy eyes.

“Alright alright Im coming” He smiles, reluctantly letting go of his wife, as he follows his 5 year old to the floor of the living room. “What are we playing?” He asks gently and the younger one squeals.

“Princesses!” The older one giggles clapping, as her sister she hobbles over to her dad, still a little wobbly on her feet, he reaches out towards her holding her hand so she doesn’t fall. He watches his wife out of the corner of his eye watching as she sinks down onto the couch a look of relief on her face as she finally gets off her feet. He makes a mental note to take care of her later. He doesn’t even notice his oldest sneaking up behind him with a fluffy princess crown, placing it on his head elegantly. He smiles touching it gently with his hands, and she runs off again to go get a dress for him to help her into. She brings back a pretty dress holding it out to him. He takes it helping her slip it over her head, putting it on her.

“Oh wow!” He gasps, “Look at you!” He smiles as she twirls around in her dress. “So beautiful!” He coos as she giggles prancing around the room. He watches as his wife stands up off the couch, his gaze perks up. “Where are you going?” He asks as the girls dance around together.

“I gotta go make dinner” She says softly and he deflates slightly,

“Oh alright, call me if you need me” she nods and leaves the room maneuvering to the kitchen, turning his attention back to his girls in front of him. His youngest holds a dress towards him whining softly.

“She wants this one” her sister translates, and he nods understandingly

“Oh alright” he takes the dress and slips it over her head and she squeals giggling happily. “Look at you two.. the prettiest princesses in all the land” And they laugh dancing around the room.

“Daddy we want music” the oldest insists grabbing his phone from his pocket holding out for him to unlock it, putting on the playlist of their favorite songs. “And now dance!” She squeals tugging on his hand getting him to stand up and dance with him. They dance for a while slowly wearing him down, he finds it hard to believe that such a simple thing as dancing in a circle would tire him so much, although he is like two hundred years old. But he brushes his weariness off, he’d dance till his feet bleed and he collapses on the floor if thats what it took to make his girls happy. He’d do anything for his girls, for his wife… for his family. He’d fight any villain, kill anyone, go through thousands of armies, and endure all the pain and trauma that led up to this point as many times as it would take to get him to this moment right here. Dancing with his girls, his wife in the kitchen, the smell of freshly cooked food wafting through the air. He turns his attention back to the girls who had each grabbed one of his legs wrapping their arms and legs around him giggling to each other.

“I hate to interrupt your fun, but it’s time for dinner” His wife spoke up leaning against the doorframe that led to the kitchen. 
“alright we’re coming” he said gruffly, grunting as he made his way to the kitchen at a snails pace dragging the girls on his feet. In the direction of the kitchen, he makes it through the kitchen door, and smiles as his wife preps plates for everyone. “Alright girls go sit down” He says, and they hug tighter to his leg

“No we wanna keep playing” They whine.

“Come on girls it’s time to eat” He says a little more sternly, and they stand up reluctantly heading to their seats at the table. His wife places the plates on the table in front of each family member. “Thanks Darlin’” He murmured pulling her down towards him so he could kiss her. She giggled settling into her seat next to him, and he dug into his plate, the spaghetti she made settling nicely in his stomach, warming him from the inside out. Once he was done he sat in his chair letting his head fall back as his wife excused the girls from the table so they could go clean up their mess in the living room. He groans watching as his wife stood up, clearing the table and piling the dishes in the sink, he stood up quickly walking over to where she stood, wrapping his arms around her. “And what do you think you’re doing?” He asked his breath fanning across her ear.

“Cleaning up?” She says questioningly and he shakes his head pulling her away from the sink.

“Nu-uh” he huffs, “You cooked, I clean” he says softly, and she smile gratefully.

“Okay well while you do that I’m gonna go give the girls a bath and get them ready for bed” She smiles kissing his cheek and patting his shoulder as she leaves the room, the squealing of the girls in the other room can be heard throughout the house, and if he could bottle the sound and keep it, he’d listen to it everynight for the rest of his life. He quickly finished the dishes heading upstairs to the bathroom, where he opened the door and smiled at the sight of his of the girls splashing and playing around in the bath, his wife rinsing them off, lifting them out the tub, and wrapping them up tight in their towels, drying them off, he laughs drawing their attention to him, and they girls grin waddling over to him in their towels. He picks them up grunting as he lifts them, carrying them to their room while his wife follows behind. He putts them down on the floor of their room, his wife hurrying to the youngest to help her out of her towel, picking out her pjs and helping her into them. He watches as his oldest picks out her own pjs and gets dressed climbing onto her bed and jumping on it.

“Oh, love don’t do that” His wife chastises softly and she laughs thinking it’s a joke, continuing to jump around.

“C’mon sweetheart you heard your mom” He smiles and she slowly stops her jumping, flopping onto the bed, he smiles ruffling her hair, making his way to his wife, who’s tucking the younger one into bed, leaning over to give her a kiss on the forehead. He follows close behind bending down to give her a kiss on the head tucking the blanket tight around her. His wife moves across the room to their other daughter, and she skitters under the covers, giggling.

“Alright calm down love, it’s time for bed” His wife murmurs as he joins her by their daughter’s bed, “I love you sweetie” she murmurs kissing her head.

“I love you too mommy” She replies and Logan repeats his process tucking the covers tight around her body.

“Love you babygirl” He smiles kissing her. “g’night”

“G’night daddy, love you too” she giggles, and Logan follows his wife out their bedroom, turning the lights off and closing the door behind him. He makes his way downstairs flopping down onto the couch and turning the tv on, groaning as his body sinks down into the couch, finally letting the weariness of the day settle into his bones. He focuses on the tv, making room beside him on the couch as his wife makes her way into the room, tiredly plopping down onto the couch, he wraps his arm around his wife pulling her into his side kissing the top of her head, inhaling her scent. He smiles relaxing next to her.

“I love you baby” He murmurs and she tilts her head to look up at him, smiling.

“I love you too” She chuckles, and he smiled as she snuggled into his side, they lay there in silence, and he soon hears her breathing even out as she falls asleep in his arm, he chuckles softly kissing her head again. Sure the life he has is tiring, between his job and taking care of his family, he was left exhausted every night but he wouldn’t change it for all the sleep in the world.

[xmalereader]

— Endless Pt. 1 —

Bruce Wayne x Endless! Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

SUMMARY: The endless family is made up of 7 children, so why is their an 8th? Reader is the black sheep of the family with no purpose to fulfill the human realm. He spends his days locked away in the Dreaming where he stays under his brothers watch. It wasn’t until one of Dreams new nightmares escapes the realm and starts causing problems in the Waking, giving reader a chance to show that he can be helpful in his family by tracking down his brothers nightmare, not knowing what awaits him.

WARNINGS/CONTENT: Angst, slow burn, MDNI 18+, language, endless family, dream trying to be a good brother, mentions of abuse, black sheep, self esteem problems, mentions of death, family secrets, friends to lovers, post riddler chaos, mentions of new villains, foreshadowing, reader and Bruce balancing each other out, Gotham is shit, slight kissing, trauma mentioned, OC nightmare, non-canon works.

WC: 5k

TAGS: @circusdexxter @lordzachariah0-0 @apolo1808 @i-cant-sleep615 @kayden1 @boylicious143 @h-ib @kik1010 @toxic90sboy @multifandomsimp69 @moththesadmage @stalker0

NOTES: Finally! After a very long break I’m finally getting back into writing again! I will mainly be focusing on my series that I’ve been planning for quiet awhile and really want to focus on this Endless series that I’ve had in mind for months. I’ll try my best to update as much as possible since each chapter will be between 5k-8k words or longer in order to have fewer chapters, but other than that, here is the first part and thank you for being patient on my writing!

Blinding - Florence And The Machine

The Endless had 8 children, each with a purpose in life.

Destiny with the purpose of defining all that is, Death was destined to put the universe to rest, Dream with the creation of stories and imagination, Destruction with the power of not only destroying but of making and producing, Desire with the purpose of wanting and lust along with their twin Despair who is the personification of despair and hope, and Delirium who can create realities and manipulate the human mind.

They all had an important purpose.

All but one.

The eighth child was the youngest of them all, having been born eons later after Delirium resulting in the last sibling of the Endless family. His siblings figured that he would have a purpose just like them only to have none. The last sibling wasn’t special nor was he given a proper name that would fit his so called ‘purpose’ instead both Father Time and Mother Night left their last child in the hands of their other children.

He expected his brothers and sisters to help him find a purpose that brought balance to the human realm, but neither sibling was much help. The twins simply teased him, mocking his existence while the others grew to busy in their own duties to give him the attention he needs, a few of his other siblings were busy searching for the ‘Prodigal’ who had left his duty many years ago and was being searched in order to restore balance again.

The youngest Endless could only watch from the sidelines holding onto hope that he too, would have a purpose of his own.

As he was passed around from sibling to sibling he spent most of his time in their realms watching their work and staying in line from overstepping into their duties. He spent most of his time in Dreams realm feeling his heart warm in joy when he walked through his brothers creation. The creation of stories and imagination was a powerful thing for many humans something that his brother found joy in doing.

There were times that he spent his time in his brothers library, hidden behind many rows of books, watching from the corners as his brother speaks with Lucian and Marvin. No matter how long he spends in this dreaming he never had the chance to actually create a bond with his brother, growing afraid each time he approached him when returning a book or when trying to ask a simple question about his creations.

Delirium was technically the baby in the family before he came into the picture and Dream already struggled with creating a bond with his sister and he didn’t want to get in the way of their bond. He spent years without knowing his duty that he’s grown used to being an outsider from his siblings, spending his ‘family’ dinners alone in Dreams realm, trying to stay out of their business as much as possible.

Even if his sister, Death, tired to convince him to join them for dinner he’d refuse and continue on with his day. What was the purpose of him being there? He can’t stand their whispers of pity, so why even bother.

He felt like a burden to his own family, so instead of trying to fit in he’d slowly pushed himself out of the picture and allowing them to have the spotlight while he stood out the frame. There were times that wished to disappear like his brother, Destruction. He didn’t know much about him and the others didn’t talk about him, not because they hated him, but because of the pain it brought them when reminded of their brother leaving without a word, abandoning his duty and hiding from the world.

When wandering around Dreams library he had found a book hidden deep in the shelves that contained a photo of his brother, Destruction. He looked older than the others and with a rugged expression on his face, having facial hair on his face and perhaps a grumpy like exterior. He kept the image of his brother in mind before putting the book back where it belongs in order to keep his brother, Dream from knowing his findings.

“A nightmare has escaped.”

He was doing his usual routine, hiding in the library and nose buried in a book before his ears perk at the sound of the ravens worried tone when landing near Lucians desk and letting her know about the situation.

“Does Lord Morpheus know about this?” Lucian had asked while she looked through the new plans of the realm, showing very little interest towards the situation since she had no control over dreams and nightmares.

The raven, Matthew tilts his head to the side. “He does—“

“Then I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“It’s that new nightmare.” Said Matthew, voice laced with worry and concern.

His words causes Y/n to look up from his book, eyes widening when hearing Matthew. He knew what nightmare he was referring to and knew how messy the situation can turn out if a nightmare were to abandon its duties. Dream always kept an eye on his dreams and nightmares and had been making changes in his realm, more like improvements. He had been changing his nightmares into dreams and leaving him with time to make new nightmares for the dreamers, having created one that lurks on your deepest fears named Pitch.

Y/n never liked the nightmare when first meeting him, his tall structure and sharp yellow eyes always made him shiver and whenever he was alone the nightmare always found him.

“Pitch is nothing but problems.” Sighed Lucian while removing her glasses.

Matthew lets out a small sound of understanding. “He reminds me of the Corinthian in some way.”

The name was familiar to Y/n, having heard about him and the troubles he’s brought into Dreams realm the nightmare was so bad that Dream had to destroy his creation and store him away. His brother had claimed that he will restore the Corinthian again, one day when he deemed the time right.

Y/n doesn’t stay longer to listen to their conversation and closes his book, leaving it on the table and standing from where he sat. He doesn’t spare the librarian and raven a glance, having grown used to their silent glances when his presence is made known, leaving the library and making his way towards his brothers chambers where he finds him pacing around the room while reading a book in hand. He’s noticed the stack of books scattered on the floor with different names from many dreamers.

He can’t help but raise a brow at his brothers mess, but doesn’t point it out when approaching him.

“I suppose you are busy?”

Dream doesn’t look away from his book and keeps pacing. “I am always busy.” His voice echos back before stopping mid pace to look over to Y/n who stood a good distance from the other Endless. Dream looks at him up and down before asking. “Is there something you need?” He’d usually brush off anyone’s needs and focus on himself, but after his imprisonment of 100 years and spending more time around humans he’s grown to change.

Showing some compassion for once.

The younger endless stares at Dream and then down at the books that surround them both. He wants to jump in and help his brother with finding his missing nightmare to be able to do something for once. “I heard that Pitch left the realm.” He starts, noticing the slight frown appear on his brothers face which makes him bite the inside of his cheek in a nervous manner.

“I can help with finding him?” He finally asks.

Dream shuts his book which causes Y/n to flinch and avoid his brothers eyes, looking away nervously after asking. He would expect his brother to be upset for wanting to step in and provide assistance to his mistake when it was his duty to fix the problem and not Y/n’s.

But his brothers words surprise him. “I’d appreciate the help.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in surprise when he’s accepted to help, nodding slowly as he takes a few steps closer and a bit hesitant on what to do. “What are you looking for in these books?” He asks and bends down to pick one up, reading the name of the dreamer before flipping it open and skimming through the pages.

“Pitch lurks on fear. Since I no longer have my ruby, I am unable to find my nightmares and must doing things a bit differently.” Dream being to explain as he walks over to the other side of the room to toss the book he was currently reading on top of another pile. Y/n guessed that it’s the finished books he’s read. “If I wish to find Pitch I have to find out which dreamers are most likely to be targeted by him.”

Y/n looks back at the stack of books with wide eyes. “You’re trying to locate a dreamer who could possibly lure Pitch in?” He says in disbelief and turns back to Dream. “That could take hours or days, all dreamers have nightmares so Pitch could be going after anyone.” He sets the book down and steps back to stare at the different piles, reading off names and trying to figure out his brothers outrageous system of locating his missing nightmare.

Dream lets out a dry chuckle when hearing his little brothers worries and shakes his head. “Then,” he walks over to Y/n and hands him a book. “Lets get started.” The little Endless can only mentally groan as he takes the thick book in hand and watched Dream get back to his own reading.

The room falls into a comfortable silence as the two read for what felt like hours. The sound of flipping pages echoed in the throne room and the placement thud of the book beings piled up as the continued their reading. As much as he enjoyed spending time in his brothers library he was slowly growing tired of reading dreamers lives and how they spent their time in the dreaming realm when sleeping. Even though he doesn’t have a purpose he’s starting to realize that being a Dream lord wouldn’t be for him.

It wasn’t until he breaks out into a yawn that it gets the Dream lords attention, eyes glancing up from his book and towards his brother who was half asleep at this point. Dream sighs through his nose and closed his book, setting it aside from where he sat on the steps. “You're tired, get some sleep.”

Y/n snaps his head up and shakes his head at Dreams words. “I’m fine I can keep going.” He waves him off and tries to concentrate on the book o his lap, but Dream had quickly taken the book from him and closed it. “I can tell when someone doesn’t sleep.” His voice is low as he towers over Y/n who sits on the floor and sighs to himself, rubbing his eyes and nodding his head slowly. “Okay, I’ll get some sleep.” He mumbled in return as he stands from where he sat.

Even though he wanted to help Dream in finding Pitch he’d need to get some rest if he wishes to keep going. When letting Dream know that he will head off to his room and get some proper rest for the night he makes sure to sneak at least one book back to his bedroom in order to keep helping out of his brother sight and not get into any trouble.

He holds the book against his chest when leaving his throne room and down a different hall in his castle. He yawns again when reaching his own bedroom, its big and spacious when entering a few books are on the shelf and small little valuables are sitting near the balcony not having a lot since he spent most of his time in the Dreaming with his brother.

He tossed the book on his bed and falls face first into his pillow, moaning tiredly and closing his eyes for a few seconds, letting his body relax against the soft blankets and pillows. The silence wakes him back up, opening his eyes and glancing over to the book he had snuck into his room.

It was surprisingly thin and the binding is all black, getting his attention as he sits up and turns around to lie on his back. He grabs the book and holds it up, reading the name on the front cover.

“Bruce Wayne…” He whispers the name to himself and flips the cover open, starting at the beginning like every other book he’s read. He knows he’s suppose to be sleeping or else his brother will use his sand on him, but he can’t help but grow eager to continue helping his brother, to be able to do something for once as he reads the book in hand.

He’s nodding off little by little and trying to concentrate on the words on the pages, shaking the sleep away and sighing as he adjusts his sleeping position and groans before flipping to the next page only to freeze, his eyes full of confusion as he sits up, fully awake as he stares down at blank pages. He’s never seen something like this in the books, finding half of the pages blank.

The mans life ends in nightmares, but the blank pages had to mean something. He quickly pulls the blankets back and slips out of bed, rushing out of his room and holding the book in hand as he heads back to his brothers throne room to ask him about the strange book.

“Dream—?”

“Aren’t you suppose to be sleeping?” Dream cuts in and slams his book shut, setting it aside onto a pile. The time that Y/n spent reading had resulted in the shift of books, having less around the throne room since his brother had finished reading a few on his own. Before Y/n can ask about the blank pages in the book his brother had approached him and takes his wrist in hand, dragging him back to his room.

“Wait—!”

“I’ve told you many times that you are to be asleep, unlike me you need the rest since your body isn’t adjusted to the dreaming realm quiet yet.” He began to explain, disregarding Y/n’s protests as he’s dragged back to his room. “But Dream—!?”

“Enough talk.” They make it back to his room where Dream shoves him back into bed and takes the book from his grip, setting it aside and ignoring the title of the book since he was focused on Y/n.

“But the book!” said Y/n as he reached out to grab it only for Dream to push him back into bed.

“You can tell me about it tomorrow, now you sleep.” He doesn’t give Y/n the chance to speak again as he uses his sand on his little brother, watching as he yawns and his eyes slowly flutter closed.

—

Y/n doesn’t dream.

He knows that his own brother does since its apart of him, but Y/n never had dreams or nightmares. He always wondered if it was because he wasn’t an Endless like his siblings with a purpose in the human realm. His siblings had dreams, but never spoke about them. Dream had their books with their dreams and nightmares written locked away from prying hands, he never read their books in order to keep the privacy and respect, never lurking in their dreams to see what they think of when sleeping. He made a rule to never do such thing, but Dream was surprised when his little brothers book wasn’t on the shelf.

He had given it time since he was still young, but after eons, nothing.

That’s why Y/n had woken up without feeling anything, falling asleep in darkness and waking up as if nothing ever happened. He’d stare at the ceiling of his room, quiet and still as he thinks about last nights discoveries. He turns to his left where his brother had left the book. He would have expected Dream to take it back instead of leaving it in his room.

He takes the book into his hands again and reads the name to himself once more. His fingers opening the book as he flips through the empty pages in hopes of finding new words only to find nothing, ending in the same way as last night.

“You can’t be dead.” He says to himself when closing the book, he’s seen how their story is written before death comes for them. It always ends with a dream before their story reaches an end, but Bruce’s didn’t have that and it made him question it.

He holds the book in hand when leaving his room, heading off to see his brother only to find the throne room empty when arriving. The books that were scattered around were gone, leaving the place empty and clean. He decides to check the library, perhaps he could find his brother there if the books were all cleaned up.

Only, he doesn’t find his brother there other than Lucian.

“Lucian, have you seen Dream?” He speaks up softly towards the librarian as she organized a few books and puts them in their designated space in the shelves. She looks up from her work and sighs. “Lord Morpheus had to attend a family dinner.” She responds back which makes Y/n’s heart race at the statement, forgetting that family dinners were every few years.

He was always invited but rarely went since he didn’t want to deal with the usual conversations.

“Found your purpose yet?”

“Still staying with Dream?”

“Why even have another endless when you can’t figure out why you are here.”

The past conversation makes him shudder, hating the feeling of being different.

Lucian can easily see the sadness hidden behind Y/n’s eyes as if showing that he’s fine when deep down inside he was hurting.

“I was curious about something,” He began to say, holding the book under his arm. “have you ever dealt with a dreamers dreams not showing in their books?”

Lucian raises a brow at his question. “Lack of dreams?”

Y/n shakes his head. “More like, disappearing from the human realm when they aren’t really dead?” He winced at his own question, unsure if he was making sense towards the librarian.

“Oh,” Lucian gives him a look of surprise. “Well, we once dealt with a boy who went missing in the dreaming. We couldn’t find him in his books and it looked like he had disappeared from the world.” She explains while shelving books. “Turns out that a nightmare was keeping him hidden, using their power and work to hide the boy from the real world. A way of escaping reality and hiding in the dreaming.”

Y/n takes in her words, glancing down at the book he had. Thinking that perhaps this Bruce is suffering from nightmares, making him easy bait for Pitch. He isn’t sure if he’s right or wrong, but he knows he should let his brother know since its an urgent matter due to pitch leaving his duties and causing a problem to his brother.

“Thank you, Lucian.” He leaves the book on the table and quickly leaves the library. He doesn’t usually attend family dinners, but perhaps this once he can make an appearance only to let Dream know about his discoveries and then leave. His siblings always took turns in hosting dinners, sharing each others realms for a short period of time together.

Last dinner took place in Deaths realm, today it’s Destiny’s.

In order to enter his brothers realm he’d have to ask permission, but since its a family dinner he doesn’t need to ask. He’s only been in Destiny’s realm a few times, liking his garden that he walked through in order to make it to the clear opening where a dining table is set and finds his siblings conversing amongst each other.

He always felt nervous around his other siblings. He’s known them for eons, but he didn’t really know them. He only saw them as his siblings who took care of him when he was a child, but as time went by and he continued to age things had changed between them.

“Look who decided to join us.”

Desires voice floats through the air as he looks over to his sibling, giving them a small nod of acknowledgment. “Desire.”

“Endless.” They said back.

Y/n mentally flinched at the name. He’s Endless, but Endless of what?

“That’s a surprise, you usually don’t come to these dinners.” They continued on, taunting him with a sly grin on their face. “Oh!” They gasp out. “Are you here to tell us that you’ve finally found a purpose or did you just come to ruin the dinner?” They and Despair laugh at their comment which leaves Y/n quiet.

“That’s enough.” Dream cuts in, stopping his siblings mocking. Desire clicks their tongue and rolls their eyes when their fun is ruined.

Dream looks over to Y/n. “Are you here to join us?”

He doesn’t know what to say, his mind feels fuzzy and can hear his heart racing in his ears. His eyes glancing over to the twins who murmured to each other, his eyes then shift over to Death who looks at him with eyes full of pity and concern—he hated that look. His brother Destiny didn’t even look at him and and Delirium was lost in her own world.

It wasn’t until his eyes land on the empty chair across from Dream. He’s confused at first, asking himself why they would have a chair for him. “Oh…”

There was 7 seats, one for each sibling.

The seventh wasn’t for him. It was for his missing brother, Destruction.

He’s now realized had he’s never had a seat amongst them.

“Y/n?”

Dreams voice pulls him out of his thoughts, looking back at his brother and noticed the small hint of concern in his voice.

“Is something wrong?”

Y/n gives his brother a fake smile. “It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t stay much longer and turns his back, leaving his brothers garden and heading back to the Dreaming where he belonged. Did he really belong to the dreaming? Dream was only being a kind brother and letting him stay in his realm until he’s found his purpose but its been eons and he still hasn’t figured out what kind of endless he is. Thinking about it makes him feel like a burden, having bothered his brother for years not asking himself if Dream has perhaps grown tired of having him around.

He found beauty in his brothers work always amazed by his creations and ideas that he can’t help but think that he’s a mistake wandering around his brothers creation.

“You are just Endless.”

Dream of the Endless.

Death of the Endless.

Desire of the Endless.

They all had a name, but him.

“How can I know who I am…” He whispers in the emptiness of his room, staring at the pile of books that he had left forgotten in his room only to remember last nights book.

“Bruce Wayne.”

He may not be someone who can lead him to Pitch, but he could be a start. He’s curious to know why his book ended in blank pages, waiting to be filled with words. Even if he was wrong at least it was an excuse for him to leave the realm to perhaps find himself something out in the Waking.

Y/n had seen the Waking and had very little interactions with mortals, but perhaps he’ll get the chance to know them at a better level. There isn’t much for him to take other than a notebook with notes regarding his brothers dreams and nightmares and his time here in the dreaming. His room never had anything valuable only a simple bed and a few books, nothing else.

He flips the book open and reads his last page.

“Gotham City.”

[moon-tell-me]

Them having a crush on you...

The outsiders (separate) x GN! reader

Warnings: nothing I don't think :))

DARRY CURTIS

It's been a reaalllyy long time since he's felt this way for anyone

So a small part of him is excited when he realizes it

But the majority of him..?

Well.. that's a different story

He's very busy with work and the family

He just doesn't have any time for love or romance

You understand ://

So it's unlikely he will do much of anything on his own

He will probably even avoid you a bit in hopes of making himself feel better

That being said, if you realize what's going on, and decide to pursue the relationship, he may manage to fit you in his schedule :))

"Hey, Darry.. uhm, could we talk for a second..?" You asked, as you popped up from around the corner, completely catching him off guard. It had been almost two weeks since you two had a proper conversation, and you weren't gonna let it go on any longer.

SODAPOP CURTIS

Okay so this is gonna come as a surprise to no one, but..

Throughout his life he has consistently gotten girlfriends and boyfriends with no issue

Again, no one's surprised

I mean, look at him, he's beautiful

Anyways-

He immediately knows that he likes you

And he very quickly starts planning out how he can go about the situation

It won't take very long for him to make his move, however if you beat him to it, he would definitely be over the moon

There you are, looking as good as ever. He's already decided that he's gonna ask you out later, an- wait.. your walking over to him..?

PONYBOY CURTIS

Poor kid doesn't know wtf is going on at first

All he knows is that he suddenly enjoys your company more then before

It wasn't until you interlocked his fingers with yours one night that he finally became fully aware of his feelings

He is not nearly as subtle about these feelings as he thinks he is.

He's so obvious, you'd have to be pretty inattentive to not notice anything

Based on this, you will likely be making the first move

With a dramatic sigh you let your head fall against his shoulder. The two of you have been studying together for about two hours and your in desperate need of a break. "C'mon, you need to focus." He said, sounding more annoyed then he really was. You grabbed his hand, interlocking your fingers and looking up at him pleadingly. "Pleease.?"

DALLAS WINSTON

Ohh boy

Out of allll the guys in Tulsa, you caught his attention?

Lucky 🙄

I love him sm istg

In all seriousness, this is very new to him

He's not used to genuinely caring about someone

Besides Johnny, he's never really loved anything

He's gonna start off with his typical flirting

That won't change until he realizes his feelings

After that, he switches to being a total jerk to you

Mans does not know how to process his feelings

Just give him time tho, he'll figure it all out

Here you are, sitting on the porch of the Curtis house. It's late and everyone is inside the house, save for you and Dal. He's been real difficult lately, although tonight his attitude has noticably improved. As you watch him struggle to light his cancer stick you can't help but wonder, what did he want to ask you.?

JOHNNY CADE

My sweet, respectful boy

He falls head over heels immediately

Everybody realizes his feelings rather quickly too

Including himself

He's not stupid

He notices how his cheeks get all warm

His hands get all sweaty

His knees feel like they might give out

It's a new feeling for him

For once he has someone touching him without causing him pain

I'm gonna fight his parents- WOAH! Who said that!? 😅

If your the type of person who is really affectionate with your friends (me fr) then you might actually kill the poor kid

He asked Dally for advice only to completely ignore it

Turns out Dally sucks at giving good advice, who woulda known?

He was thankful for how dark it had gotten, otherwise you would be able to see just how red his face had gone. For some reason you had decided it would be a great idea to hold his hand out of nowhere. Why can't you see what your doing to him?

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

You guys prolly met in middle school

He pulled some dumb shii and put gum in your hair or something

After that he often teased you

Referring to you as his girlfriend/boyfriend

You better expect a lot of playful flirting with this one

He pretty much confesses his feelings on the daily tbh

Albeit in a way that makes you think it's a joke

Eventually you just kinda realize that hey, maybe he isn't joking

"See, I always knew we were perfect for each other, ever since that day in sixth grade." He teased, throwing his arm around your shoulder only for you to immediately push it off. "Get off of me, would you?"

[system-to-the-madness]

Cherry Blossom Rests 🌸 Inumaki Toge x Reader

Pairing: Inumaki Toge x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: fluff Word Count: 1 223 Warnings: mentions of wounds, blood Summary: After a mission, Toge and you rest under a tree

Sakura Festival Masterlist - Masterlist

“Toge, can you move your arm away? My neck hurts.”

“Okaka.”

“Asshole.”

With a groan you sat up enough to be able to grab Toge’s arm and move it away from where your head had been resting on it. Any other day you would have appreciated him offering his arm up as your headrest, but not today. You were sore all over from the mission you had just returned from. Your body was littered with small cuts, dust stuck to your skin and your sweat drenched clothes, and every muscle in your body felt like it had been robbed of any and all strength.

The mission itself had not really been dangerous, only exhausting. So much even, that you had fallen asleep in the train back home, and as soon as you had made it up the sheer infinite number of steps to the school, Toge and you had collapsed under the closest tree, not even bothering to make it back to your rooms. Here, on the school grounds you were safe from the prying eyes of public, so you had not made the effort to go further, and instead decided to rest here for a moment. Or a few moments. You had been laying underneath the blooming cherry tree for almost an hour now.

Toge protested loudly as you flopped back down, spread out like a starfish, but without the support of his arm this time. You knew he considered it his sacred duty as your boyfriend to always make sure you were as comfortable as possible.

“Toge, my neck hurts, stop it,” you protested as he tried to wriggle his hand back under your neck. “I just want to lay like that for a moment, okay? We can cuddle later.”

At your side, he whined, but pulled his hand away. You sighed quietly, focusing on the way your spine seemed to stretch out on the ground. It felt like a weigh was being removed. Experimentally you turned your head, trying to stretch out the tension in your neck, when suddenly something warm and heavy flopped down on your chest.

If you weren’t so familiar with this exact sensation, you might have been startled, but you knew what had happened, and so you just groaned a little from the way your chest got compressed by the suddenly added weight. Toge had thrown himself on top of you, arms around your waist, head resting on your chest, his bright hair tickling your chin.

“A warning next time,” you grumbled, but brought your hand up to his head anyway, running it though his strands. They were sweat and dirt coated. It had been over an hour since the fight had ended, but his body was still warm underneath his by now chilly clothes.

“Saamon Tsuna,” You should have seen it coming.

“You��re such a spoiled brat,” you sighed, craning your neck to press a kiss to the crown of his head.

Toge turned his head, resting his chin on your sternum and glanced up to you, indigo eyes scanning over your face as if he was uncertain whether you meant it. Of course, you didn’t, and he knew that, but sometimes you couldn’t shake the feeling that he still doubted your feelings for him. Was it really so hard to believe that you loved him? That idiot. But he was your idiot, and if you had to, you’d reassure him of your love for him until he got sick of it… which was a bold statement considering he always insisted he could never get enough of you.

“Okaka”, he pouted. I’m not a spoiled brat. “Takana-zuke.” You are.

“Oi,” you complained. “What did I do?”

Toge just kept pouting, giving you a moment to take in his appearance. You had been too exhausted to give him a proper once over, earlier only having made sure he was not injured too badly. Like yours, his skin was littered in cuts, his uniform dirty and still wet from sweat. At the corner of his mouth, he had missed a droplet of blood, that had by now dried and turned a dark shade of brown against his pale skin. He had used his technique too much, again. Over the past months he had gotten quite good at estimating how long he could use it, and how the impact of different commands shortened that time. But there were still moments where he went over his limits, and you hated it, hated seeing him hurt.

Reaching up, you ran your thumb over the corner of his mouth, trying to brush the dried blood away, but instead Toge turned his head to kiss your thumb.

“Hold still,” you demanded, “you have some blood there.”

Toge just rolled his eyes and pouted, but let you clean the small stain away, before looking at you expectantly.

“Tsuna Mayo,” he requested.

You furrowed your brows. “What do you want me to do?”

He rolled his eyes again, signaling you that he had expected you to understand him, before he pushed up on his hands and shifted himself so he could kiss you on the lips.

Something about Toge’s kisses always took your breath away. Sure, there were the heated kisses you shared in the privacy of your rooms, but even the smaller, almost innocent ones always made you swoon. His lips were soft and warm, his breath fanning over your cheeks in a familiar way as he pulled back after a moment to look down on you underneath him.

“Okome,” he whispered, making you smile. I love you.

“Okome,” you repeated to him, and satisfied you watched as a smile of his own spread over his face.

“Sujiko,” he smirked, lowering himself down again, so he could rest his head on your chest again.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” you complained. “You can’t make fun of me for saying I love you when you were the one who started it!”

“Shake.” Yes, I can.

“You’re awful,” you whined, your hand immediately finding its way back into his hair. “Why am I putting up with you again?”

“Takana-zuke okome.” You love me.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” You picked a cherry blossom petal out of his hair, the colour of the petal almost identical to that of his strands.

“Okome.” And I love you. Toge’s voice had gotten quieter, heavy, and you knew he was about to fall asleep.

“I know,” you whispered, carding your fingers through his soft hair. “And I’m so happy you do.”

Toge only hummed in affirmation, his eyes fluttering shut as he kept his ear pressed to your chest, listening to your breath and heartbeat. Warm sunbeams fell through the branches and blinded you, making you close your eyes too. Rationally you knew you should get up, go back to your room, shower, get patched up and write the mission report. But you really didn’t want to disturb your sleeping boyfriend. Besides, when would you get the next chance to cuddle with him on a spring afternoon under the blooming cherry trees? You sighed, relaxing against the ground. Nobody would mind if you took a little longer with that report. And if they did… their offence, no matter how big, could not compete with the feeling of peace that flooded your body from feeling Toge sleep with his arms wrapped around you.

@delzinrowe

[alotofpockets]

The cat distribution system | Lucy Bronze x Reader

Where you find a stray kitten and try to convince your girlfriend to keep it.

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.1k

-----

You have seen plenty of “the cat distribution system” videos on your tiktok, people finding stray cats, or rather stray cats finding their people. Every time you saw one, you would show it to Lucy. Your wife was a dog person, while you were a cat person. So, where you thought the cute part was the cats, Lucy thought the cute part was your excitement.

Never had you thought that one day the cat distribution system would distribute a cat to you, but then on your morning run you saw something moving out of the corner of your eye. You slowed your run to check it out, and couldn't believe your eyes when it was a little orange tabby kitten.

Its meows were soft but high pitched as you knelt down beside it. “Hi little buddy, what are you doing out here all on your own?” Your heart melted at the way the kitten nudged its head into your hand. After a few careful pets, you lifted up the kitten and cuddled it close to your body. It instantly nestled into your warmth, and your heart melted even more.

“Let’s see if you have any friends around, little buddy.” You looked around the general area, but weren’t finding any sign of the kitten's parents or siblings. “Looks like you’re coming home with me for a bit.” 

You abandoned your morning run entirely, and went straight home. In your home office you set up some space for the little kitten. Some soft blankets, a bowl of water, and some cat food you got from your neighbours. 

On the other side of your office door Narla was busy sniffing around, trying to figure out what this new scent in your home was. “Oh hi sweetheart, I’ve brought a friend with me. I will introduce you two later.” You said while petting your dog. 

“Who did you bring with you?” Lucy’s curious voice sounded from the front door. You rush to hug your wife, as does Narla. “Hi baby, how was training?” She pecks your lips before she kneels down to pet Narla. “Training was good. Are you going to tell me who you brought with you or are we just completely ignoring that you just said that?” Your wife said with a smirk, fully knowing your tactics.

“You know how I always show you those videos of people finding stray cats?” Lucy’s eyes widened. “You did not.” 

“I did. It’s in my office.” Before Lucy could say something you continued. “It was out there all on its own, and it was cold. I took it with me to warm up, and was hoping you would come to the vet with me to check if it has a chip or something.” 

Lucy agreed and drove you to the vet right away. You sat in the passenger seat with the little kitten asleep in your arms, Lucy wouldn’t admit it to your face, but the moment warmed her heart. At the vet, they checked for a chip, and did not find one. Besides that they also did a full work up, it was a boy, and besides being a little underfed he was fine. The doctor gave the two of you a moment.

“Luce we can’t just leave it here and let him go to the animal shelter. Can we please take him home and find a proper placement for him ourselves? I want him to find a good home.” With your best puppy dog eyes you managed to convince her. When you told the vet, he sent you home with some supplies, after giving the kitten a vaccination.

It had been a couple of days since you had taken in the little kitten. Lucy had made you promise to not name the kitten, because you would get too attached. So of course you didn’t name it… outloud. In your head you had given the kitten a name the moment you decided to take it back home from the vet, little Toby Bronze.

Lucy had been kind of standoff-ish with Toby, but you didn’t expect anything else from your dog loving wife. That’s why you were surprised to find Toby cuddled up in your wife’s arms as they had both fallen asleep on the couch. You quickly snap a picture, mainly because the sight was adorable, but also for leverage. 

You had fully fallen for the tiny kitten, and it wasn’t until now that you had the slight hope that maybe Lucy had fallen for him too. There already wasn’t the argument that Narla wouldn’t get along with him, because they had been running around in your living room together from the moment you introduced the two of them together. 

At first you wanted to ask Lucy if you could keep Toby right away, but you thought it was best to give her some more time to bond with the kitten. You had been in charge of finding a new home for the kitten, but you had stopped responding to people who were interested in hopes of keeping Toby in your own home.

The one eventing you were laying cuddled into Lucy’s side on the couch, your head resting on her shoulder while a movie played on the TV. Narla was softly snoring with her head laying in Lucy’s lap. You heard the tiny taps of Toby’s feet coming closer, and smiled to yourself as you felt him jump onto the couch besides you. He found his place in your lap, walked in a couple of circles, and sat down. 

All of you sitting on the couch, was like your little family was complete for the time being. Both wanting kids in the future, but now your loved fluff balls were your family, and you loved it. Lucy reached out her hand and gave Toby a few pets over his head.

“You know, I’ve really enjoyed having him around.” Your focus on the movie was instantly shattered, was she saying what you thought she was saying. “What would you say we give him a forever home?” Tears welled in your eyes with excitement. “Really Luce?” 

She smiled and pecked your lips. “Really.” You hugged her tight, careful not to squish Narla and Toby. When you leaned back into her side to continue the movie Lucy said, “So what have you been calling him?” Of course she had known all along that you would get attached to the little orange tabby from the start. 

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[totaly-obsessed]

My Smart Girl

Ella Toone x reader fic

-> Ella's girlfriend has just finished Exam season and she treats her to a much-needed self-care day.

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Be a student - they said.

It will be fun – they said.

And while you loved what you learned, being very passionate about languages and communications, you currently hated your life. It was Exam season. Five exams in a single week is your life currently. Or as you and your peers liked to call it – Hell.

Studying day in, day out. On top of that working and somehow surviving.

Your girlfriend of two years, Ella, was currently off-season, having just come back after the loss in Australia. She had been devastated but having time off and spending time with friends, family and you helped her to continue. The Manchester United player was incredibly grateful for you and your never-wavering support as her wag.

With you now needing her more than ever, she took pride in being your wag. She cooked for you, brought you coffee, massaged your tense shoulders and she was always there, in case you needed her.

The brunette was currently squinting at the sun while leaning against her car. Today was your (hopefully) last exam and she wanted to be your personal chauffeur.

Ella was nervous. She had planned an exciting day for you, and couldn’t wait for you to be done. The sun felt nice on her face, having spent so much time inside, being by your side – so she basked in it.

Closed eyes, relaxed eyebrows, the whole deal.

“Are you sleeping?” You sounded tired as your voice ripped her away from the sunny beach in Ibiza.

“Nah. I’d never.” With a cheeky smile, she pulled you into her arms, burying her face in your neck. “How did it go?”

Your facial expression gave your uncertainty away before you could answer. “Meh.”

She chuckled as she pressed a kiss to your hair “Always so descriptive.” With gentle hands, you were pushed off her, so that the United player could open her passenger door for you.

“C’mon, then ma lady. Let’s go!” After giving her a sweet kiss on the corner of her mouth you took your usual place. Ella rounded the car and just seconds later the two of you had taken off, leaving your University behind you.

“You won’t believe it!”, a gentle smile graced the brunette's face as you started going off about this dude in your course. Her hand gently laying on your thigh squeezing it every now and then. “- And then he just took my pen!”

“No, he didn’t!”

“Yes, he did!”

A soft pinch was delivered to your side, “Well did ya tell him that ya girlfriend is a famous Footballer?” You couldn’t help but laugh, throwing your head back against your headrest.

“I don’t think he would be intimidated by you Els. But don’t worry I got it back -  I even told him off!”

“Prod of ya baby.” You weren’t one to confront your problems, usually having Ella at your side for that.

When your girlfriend took a left instead of your usual right turn, you got confused. “Baby I think you-“

The mischievous smile on her face made you swallow your words. “Ella, where are we going?”

“Excuse me, Missy! Who is Ella? Should I be worried?” Now it was Ella's turn to laugh, the brunette pulling up to a big complex.

“C’mon then lovie.” You were still staring at the building while your favorite brunette had already opened your door, taking you by the hand and gently pulling you out of your seat.

“What is this Ella?” This time she didn’t say anything to her name.

“Thought you deserve some relaxation, so welcome to your spa day!” Tears brimmed in your eyes threatening to fall. “Nuh-uh baby. None of that! Let's get you prim and proper, huh?”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Nearly 130 minutes later the two of you saw each other again, having separate treatments. Although Ella has booked you the same package, she wasn’t able to get a session for two, so the both of you had some quiet time. Your skin had never felt so soft, and your neck could finally move again.

A full body massage, an Indian head massage, a salt scrub, a spa facial, and ear candles. It was a whole lot of relaxation, and while the ear candles felt weird at first, you were suddenly able to hear colors.

The both of you were now sat in the footballer's car again laughing about how Ella had moved too much so that her masseuse had told her of multiple times.

“Alright – I have two more stops for us lovie!” Wide eyes looked at her, making Ella laugh even more.

“Well, I wanted to spoil you to death. I am so proud of you.”

“We don’t even know if I passed Els…”

“Doesn’t matter. You gave it your all – you studied so much.” Just a couple minutes later you were at a place you knew very well – Ella’s hairdresser.

It was a nice contrast to the spa – you were with your girlfriend singing along to upbeat music and laughing a lot with Immy, the nice girl who did your hair.

“You got so much love Little Jeannie and you take it where it strikes and give it to the likes of me…” The United player was currently belting ‘Little Jeannie’ by Elton John, directly in your face, when Immy turned your chair around so that you could see yourself.

“Look at you, Honey! Fresh as new!” Ella loved your hair, it was so incredibly soft and for the entirety of the next car drive, she kept petting it.

In a good mood, she pulled you into the next building.

“Ella! Back already?” A team of women sped around the corner, excited to see why she was back, three days after having her nails done.

“Nah not for me. For the Missus.” The name got you to blush, averting your eyes while the girls squealed in glee.

Your girlfriend was having a great time, watching you be so overwhelmed. Two girls were doing your nails (each one hand) while another girl styled and dyed your eyebrows. The fourth girl was on her phone showing you options on how to get your lashes done.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

After three hours of being pampered, gossiping, and exchanging numbers with the girls, you were finally back home.

In your shared bed Ella tugged you close to her. “Thank you El’s. Don’t think I’ve said it yet.”

The footballer smiled, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, lingering there for just a second.

“Anything for you lovie… I am so proud of you – my smart girl.”

[thus-spoke-lo]

A Firm Hand // Red-Haired Shanks x afab!reader // NSFW/18+ Kinks: Spanking + Daddy Kink

CW: afab!reader; no pronouns used to refer to reader but gendered pet names used [ex. good girl]; Mihawk x reader referenced with implied open/poly relationship; cockwarming; spanking [reader receiving]; daddy kink; oral sex [reader receiving] WC: 2.5k // Fictober Masterlist

Shanks reclines on his couch, thick thighs spread, a glass of whiskey raised to his lips; the ice clacks against his teeth as he sips, a quiet groan echoing in the cup. You tilt your head to the side, pressing your back against his bare chest, and kiss the corner of his mouth, catching a drop of liquor that trickles down towards his jaw. A rumble of satisfaction reverberates in his chest, and he sets his glass down to snake his arm around your waist, his condensation-cooled palm a relief against your heated skin; you grind down on his pelvis in response, subtly fucking yourself on his thick cock, rolling your hips as you chase your pleasure.

“You were only supposed to be keeping it warm, honey,” he chides you through a low groan— though the way he rocks up into you and the way he pulses inside your warm, wet walls says he certainly doesn’t mind your departure from your assigned task. “I’ll fuck you when I’m done with my drink, remember?”

“I know, daddy, but I can’t wait,” you mewl, using the title you know fuels a fire within him. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and throbs in response, his thighs tensing under yours. “I want you now, not later.”

“You’re just so needy today, baby. Maybe I should just take you right now, huh?” Shanks’ hand roams over your form, his rough palm cupping each breast and kneading them, rubbing his thumb over your pebbled nipples until you whimper and clench around his cock. He trails down with an unhurried pace, until his fingers reach your pussy, spread perfectly open for him, your thighs dangling over his. He slowly makes circles over your clit, humming in approval with your every little whine that it elicits. “Yeah, maybe I should just fuck this pretty little pussy of yours ‘til you’re all achy and sore—make you cum on my cock over and over. And then—oh and then—I’ll fill you up ‘til it’s leaking out of you. Is that what you want, sweetheart?”

A breathy “uh-huh” leaves your parted lips as you writhe in his lap, his words as smooth and intoxicating as the whiskey that still lingers on his tongue.

“Mm, that’s too bad then—I don’t think you’ve earned it.” He stills his hips and shifts under you, just enough to start to ease himself out of your warmth, carefully pulling you off him and setting you down on the couch beside him as you whine from the sudden feeling of emptiness in your needy cunt. “In fact, I think you need to learn a little discipline, sweetheart.”

‘“Earned it’? ‘Discipline’?” you scoff in between soft, panting breaths, biting your lip coyly as Shanks leans down and cups your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Sounds like you’ve been spending too much time with Mihawk.”

“And so what if I have?” he chuckles, tilting his head, hungry eyes roaming over your features. “You don’t seem to mind it all that much.”

“He’s so mean, though,” you pout through pursed lips as Shanks squeezes your cheeks and playfully mocks your scowl.

“Aww, but you like it, don’t you?” His voice is a low growl, the purr of a predator still at rest—for the moment.

You mumble something that sounds like “yeah” and avert your gaze, your cheeks beginning to burn. It is precisely because of the stark contrast between them that you appreciate the strict discipline and routines that Mihawk favors—he teaches you proper behavior, control over your desires, patience that is rewarded with passion. Shanks, in contrast, is a pleasure-seeker in the same way that you are, a hedonist at the core who will try anything once. He is never one to deny you anything, as it only would mean he would deny himself—he gladly gives into your whims and your urges, indulges every whine and whimper of yours until you’re tangled in the bedsheets, bodies slicked with sweat, your lungs aching from panting breaths and fits of laughter.

“So what if I’m a little mean, then?” Shanks coos, his mouth barely brushing yours, tongue darting out to flick at your lips.

“Shanks, it’s just—it’s different with you.”

“Ah, I see.”  Shanks grins, a flicker of something sordid in his dark eyes. “So he’s mean daddy, and I’m nice daddy, is that it?”

“Well, I mean—”

“Maybe we should change that…” he trails off for a moment, his tongue poking at the side of his mouth. “…little brat.”

“I’m not a brat!” you protest, despite the fact that your complaint only proves his point.

“Oh, but you are,” he smirks, tapping your nose with the tip of his finger. “And I’m gonna see if I can’t get you to behave a little better. Go bend over the bed for me.”

“Yes, captain,” you sass as you stand, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Ah, now that’s not it, is it?” Shanks picks up his glass of whiskey again, half-melted ice swirling in the amber liquid, and raises an eyebrow at you—one that suggests you answer correctly this time.

“Yes…daddy.”

“Good girl.” He downs the rest of his liquor and sighs, a wry smile creeping across his lips. “Now go and put your hands flat on the bed and bend over—put your ass in the air for me, nice and high.”

You make a show of sauntering over to his bed, hips swaying slowly, as if to tempt him into abandoning his threats of punishment, willing him to push you onto the bed and bury his cock into you, forgetting all about anything except the paradise between your thighs. You bend over, placing your palms on the mattress, and wait.

And you wait.

And you wait.

The air in his cabin is still except for sounds of his breathing, soft and steady, more composed than you’d expect given that his some of his favorite parts of you are on display so wantonly. Each moment that passes makes your pulse race a little faster, your body tremble a little harder, your need for his touch build a little more. It’s clear he knows what he’s doing, driving you to the brink of desperation by doing absolutely nothing at all—perhaps Mihawk had taught him a little too well.

At last you hear footsteps moving towards you, then the heat of his body radiating against your skin as he stands behind you, just out of reach for you to try to grind against him—he knows your tactics all too well.

“Can you tell me why you’re here, sweetheart?” he asks calmly, his hand softly running over each of your ass cheeks, gently caressing and kneading your chilled flesh.

“Because you’re being mean?” you tease back, trying and failing to turn around and look at him as he placed a strong hand on the small of your back and presses down, keeping you solidly in place.

His hand slides down and grabs the meat of one of your thighs, nails digging into your tender skin; he inhales sharply at the sound of the pained yelp that he pulls out of your. “Try again, brat.”

“Because—because I need to learn to be patient?” Your voice grows quiet, subdued—it surprises you how quickly you surrender, how ready you are to submit with just a touch, just a word.

“Good girl, that’s right.” His tone is condescending, almost patronizing. “Now stay still, and let daddy teach you a lesson, okay?”

Before you can respond, he lands two swift smacks on your ass, one on either cheek, the sharp noise of his wide hand against your skin ringing in your ears before you could even register the biting sting. A surprised yelp and a pained “Daddy!” leaves your lips, taken aback by the strength of his blows; despite his earlier threat, you had expected that he’d give you a few light slaps, playful taps like when he passes you in the galley or walks behind you in the streets of unfamiliar towns. But, it seemed, Shanks is taking his role seriously.

“Doing alright, honey?” he asks, his tone almost cloyingly sweet, his fingertips running over your backside.

“Y-yeah, ‘m okay.”

“Good. That was just a little test. Now you’re going to take your punishment—show daddy what a good girl you can be.”

He lets out a low chuckle, squeezing and lightly tapping the sore spots, lulling you into a moment of calm. In an instant, the calm ends and he lets forth a series of blistering swats, his hand moving swiftly, covering the whole of your ass and upper thighs in stinging slaps that would surely bloom with welts and bruises by morning. Silent tears start to form at your lash line and drip down your puffy cheeks, turning into rivulets as you choke back a sob, one not entirely out of pain or anguish, but out of something else, some release that he triggers with the heaviness of his hand against your quaking body, with the weight of knowing that praise and sweet caresses will await you at the end.

Each hit is calculated, measured and precise—some moments apart, some coming in short bursts of four or five. Every nerve feels as though it’s been set ablaze, and your mind is slowly rendered blank, the emptiest it’s been since he’d last fucked you senseless—no thoughts left to think, only the sweet sensation of his heavy palm against your inflamed skin, and the feeling of your slick starting to trickle down your legs.

Heat spreads across your lower half as you writhe under his firm hand, and a heady mix of intense arousal and deep, searing pain send you drifting into a headspace you’d only been in under the careful eye of your other lover. Time melts and pools under you, and when Shanks finally stops—his breathing heavy, his warm hand soothing your even warmer backside—it feels like he’s been at this forever, and yet like he’s barely begun.

“How was that, baby?” he asks softly, his hand settling on your lower back. “Think you’ve learned your lesson?”

You nod, every movement feeling labored, like swimming in quicksand.

He leans down closer to you, kisses your tear-stained cheek. “Use your words for me, sweetheart—I need to hear it.”

“Yes, daddy,” you mumble against the bedspread. “I’ll be good now.”

“That’s my good girl,” he coos, leaving a gentle kiss at the crown of your head. “Now, since you were so good for me, I think you deserve a reward. Why don’t you lay down for me? Get nice and comfy, okay?”

You carefully lift yourself off the mattress and crawl up the bed on shaking limbs, gingerly setting yourself down, wincing as the raw, tender skin of your ass meets the bedspread. Shanks stands at the end of the bed for a moment, smirking as he admires his pretty little mess for a moment, his thick cock sitting heavy in his palm as he slowly strokes his hardened length—it seems he enjoyed your session just as much as you did. He climbs onto the bed, the mattress shifting under you, and lowers himself between your legs, placing his arm under your thigh and pulling you down closer until his warm breath tickles your skin.

“Fuck, that got you so wet.” He kisses along your thigh, dragging his teeth over your, leaving little licks and bites in a trail to your center, using his tongue to soothe the marks that he leaves behind. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like it when daddy’s a little mean to you, huh?”

Shanks doesn’t wait for a response—your body has already answered the question. He leans forward, his wide tongue licking slow stripe up and down your slit, tasting every needy bit of you and lapping at your drenched cunt. Your back arches and your hand instinctively reaches for him, fingers grasping for his crimson hair as you moan, sighs of “daddy” weaved into panting breaths and little gasps. He noisily sucks and kisses your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue against it, making swirling motions over it until everything feels like too much to bear—the pulsing and stinging of your bruised ass against the mattress, the quaking of every aching muscle as they tense more and more, the heat churning away in your core, burning like molten lava with every sweet caress of his expert tongue.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your cunt in between licks, his eyes now focused on you in the throes of your pleasure. He knows he has you on the precipice, teetering right on the edge of satisfaction. “Cum for daddy, sweetheart.”

His permission is all your body needs to release—a rush of air is forced out of your lungs as your body quakes with a dizzying explosion of feeling, wave after wave of shuddering, clenches spasms. Every part of you pulses and shivers and it feels like you’re underwater, the sounds of your own breathing muffled and distant. You don’t even notice when Shanks moves up the bed to sit beside you until he pulls you against him, his sinewy arm wrapping around your shoulder, and he mutters something to you that you can just make out through the haze that still surrounds you—a refrain of “it’s okay, you’re a good girl, such a good girl,” over and over, like a perverse serenade.

You press your face into him, soothed by the rhythmic thudding of his heartbeat, the thick patch of soft hair that covers his broad chest soon becoming matted with your tears. He kisses your forehead, holds you as your body shudders and you fight to slow your breathing and come down from your high.

“Good tears, honey?” he asks after a moment, a mix of concern and curiosity in his graveled voice.

“Yeah,” you nod, sniffling, fingers running over his torso, “very good tears.”

“That’s good.” He sits with you for a moment, letting you wring out the last of your tears, reminding you now and again to breathe deep breaths, filling his own lungs then slowly exhaling, coaxing you to follow along. “So…guess you don’t mind it when I’m a little mean after all, huh?”

“I prefer you when you’re nice.”

“Well, then don’t be a little brat.”

You roll your eyes and sigh, smiling up at him, sticking the tip of your tongue out between your lips, laughing between unsteady breaths.

“Damn, all that and I still couldn’t spank the brat out of you?” He huffs an exaggerated sigh and grins down at you, eyes glimmering with a wickedness that makes your breath hitch in your chest. “Guess I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

[ma1dita]

heavy hitter

part one can be found here!

this was a request, find it here!

words: 3.5k (yall im so sorry)

summary: james potter x beater!reader James might’ve won the game, but he needs to let people know he has the girl too.

warnings: smut. minors DNI. afab!reader, p in v, pwp, unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap) locker room sex, creampie, oral (m!receiving) reader is a brat… this is nasty don’t look at me (jesus tagging this is crazy)

a/n: …. what plot? i wanted to write angst again but got bored so… *jazz hands* erm…. this is my first smut fic, i’ll go crawl in a hole now

(posted 12/19/23 not edited will return)

—

Hitting the shower was James’ chance of washing his anger away before seeing you again tonight. He always gave quidditch his 110% percent, but something animalistic rose out of him when he saw you get manhandled by Wilkins, his team keeper. And regardless of the Gryffindor win, he was planning to chew off his ear later, whether it be with extra laps at the next practice or a good ol’ fashioned wallop to the head. But this anger wasn’t due to a foul play, not even because you got hurt (your arm was clearly fine since you used it to swing your bat at Wilkins’ head after). What got James mad was the fact you ripped your jersey.

No, actually, it was definitely because of what happened after that.

He’s not the type of boyfriend to decline you showing a little extra skin, but any fantasy that entered his mind was quickly cleared away when he saw you re-emerge from the locker rooms wearing your teammate’s jersey. McGonagall said it would be the only way to let you play the rest of the game since there’s no magic allowed on the field, but ever the rulebreaker, James thought that was absolute bullshit.

He rinses the shampoo out of his mop of curls as he thinks about that tosser whose name he can’t even remember. The guy was way too eager to give you his jersey, flirting with you at practices and just not taking a hint. Everyone knew you’d been dating him for a while now, and of course, James knows you can handle yourself, but there are just some things he can’t let slide. Namely, assholes that can’t take a hint. Also, he was a benchwarmer at most. Cocky motherfucker.

Watching you fly around with some other guy’s last name on your back did terrible things to James’ ego. The blur of suds pool at his feet, circling down the drain as he takes a deep breath. He’s got it bad for you, but luckily you like him enough to call him yours.

The Gryffindor locker room was empty by now with everyone too eager to celebrate their win. It was his last year as team captain and at Hogwarts in general, so he should be right up there drinking with all of them, but James really needed to let off some steam.

“Babe?” Your voice calls from the doorway, echoing against the empty walls. Condensation drips off the door handle as you take a peek to see the one shower going in the corner. What was taking him so long? You saw the rest of the team leave without him and they were trying to drag you to celebrate with them, but with your boyfriend still drowning himself in the stall….

“Over here love,” he calls out, hearing your sandals clomp against the wet tile as you turn the corner.

“You almost done? We have a party to get to, Jamie.”

The falling water makes it a bit hard to hear you, so he pops his head out from behind the curtain and squints at your frame. You giggle and pull his chin closer for a few quick kisses.

“Is that your jersey?”

His lips feel so soft against yours as you get distracted, slipping your tongue into his mouth instead of giving him a proper answer. Godric you’re good at that. James’ wet hand quickly pushes the curtain open grabbing at your ass and tucking you against his naked body, soaking the front of you in the process. A muffled yelp escapes you as your body adjusts to the temperature and the feeling of his semi-hard dick against your front.

“No, coach still has mine and I have to return this to Steven after.” You say calmly, smiling against his cheek as he sucks at your neck. He would’ve enjoyed getting lost in the scent of your still-damp hair, but your statement makes him stop as he bites at your pulse point. A whimper leaves your mouth.

“Why the fuck are you still wearing whatshisname’s jersey?”

James’s hands trail up your back to feel the embroidered letters against your back, and he swears his eye twitches. The incredulous look on his face makes you hold back your laughter.

“Steven. You know him! Don’t tell me this is a big deal for you, baby. You know I couldn’t magically fix mine during the game…”

Your hands trace down his slippery biceps as he unconsciously ruts against your belly, cock now at full attention from rubbing up against you. Your nipples are pebbled up under the material of the jersey, soaked from your less-than-innocent embrace, and he lifts a hand to brush over them, making you groan.

“Definitely not. I wouldn’t get jealous of a prick like him…” He scoffs, hands going back down to fist the fabric over your hips, “Not a big deal at all.”

“Mhmmm… I’ve got a way to make it up to you, even if it’s not a big deal.” You muse, fingers reaching to tease his swollen head as James exhales harshly.

“I’d hope this is a big deal for you, baby. Would want nothing more,” he breathes, pushing your back against the wall.

“You just want me to say your dick is big.”

The both of you laugh before he tugs the jersey over your head, ripping it in the process.

“James!”

He shrugs, burrowing his head into your breasts and lapping at your right bud. You moan, shoving your shorts down past your ankles before pulling his hair away from your chest.

“Mmmm…fuck, babe. I’m supposed to be congratulating you right now!”

Your hands push at his torso slightly as you fall to your knees, placing yourself onto your sandals. Gentle hands graze his thighs, as he feels your nose bump into his cock. The water hits James’ back perfectly, and the sensation of your hand pumping and sliding along his length makes him almost feral, shutting his eyes in pleasure.

“You played so well today baby… deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

Your tongue slips out from behind your lips to lick the underside of his length, holding yourself there as you look up at him to answer. Droplets cascade down his pecs as he breathes heavily at the feeling, precum leaking from his cockhead. James hisses as you tap him against your tongue.

“Fuck, baby. Need your mouth right now.” He can feel you grin against his girth before his cock disappears into your mouth, hot and warm, and his instinct is to grab your hair. Goosebumps rise on the parts of him untouched by the shower. Your throat rumbles with a groan as you let him work himself down into your throat, the resistance waning as your jaw slackens. Cheeks hollowing, your lips retract with a pop.

“Like that, Jamie?” you say, reaching around to massage his balls as your tongue continues to play with the long vein that runs along the surface of his cock. It’s hard to fit all of him in your mouth, fingers barely able to wrap around it, much less the rest of you. His hand massages the part where your mouth hinges open, squeezing your cheeks around him as he fucks into you with a bated sigh.

“You always take me so well, baby. You can handle more, that’s it,” he pants, biting his lip as you concentrate real hard on letting him use you, the corners of your eyes watering. His heart is racing now as his hips piston to the noises that come gurgling from your throat and he almost slips before his reflexes help him catch the back of your head before it bangs into the stall wall. A loud moan sputters from around his cock as your eyes roll back, and the lack of oxygen makes you press your fingernails into his quads harshly.

He pulls out from between your lips, cradling your chin as the both of you catch your breath, coughing a little.

“You okay? Mouth so good I lost my footing.” All you can do is laugh hoarsely as he grins boyishly before you realize he’s not wearing his glasses.

“Can you even see me? S’bit cold down here, Mr. MVP.”

He pulls you up, strong hands lifting you at your armpits until you stand in front of him, reaching over to grab his glasses from the shower shelf. You slide them on as water sprays onto them slightly as he shifts, blinking at you in clearer vision.

“There’s my boy,” you whisper, cupping his jaw and slotting your lips between his once more. You could kiss James forever, all muscles and hard exterior, but everything else, his lips down to his insides feel and go soft for you. He groans lowly and it rumbles between the both of you, before the slick motions against your core remind you of something else that’s really hard right now.

“All for you,” he sighs, hands gripping onto your hips with a force that you think they’ll bruise tomorrow, and you love having physical reminders of him wherever you go. Huh, maybe he is jealous. And if not, he’s possessive. It makes your cunt pulse harder just thinking about it, your arousal helping his head slide nicely against your bundle of nerves and the softness of your stomach.

“I’m yours, you know that right?” Not replying, he instead inhales the sweat from your neck, following it with a dip of his tongue up towards your ear.

“James.”

Your boyfriend scoffs lightly, a small smirk on his face as he pulls your chin up to meet him at eye level. You’re so gorgeous like this, just letting him do what he wants to you. Always so reassuring of his needs. His thumb rubs against your bottom lip before you open your mouth and swirl your tongue around clean skin.

“Just feels like I have to remind you sometimes, pretty girl. Can’t let everyone walk around thinking you’re not mine.”

“I wouldn’t mind a reminder. Some marks would be nice too,” you grin, biting at his lip while your hands stroke him slowly, your own knees buckling in excitement.

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Brat.” James hoists your legs over his hips, slamming your back into the wall as you squeak. Sandwiched between the warmth of his body and the cold of the shower wall, your eyes roll back as he eases his cock between your dripping folds, moans falling from your lips when he sinks into you, inch by inch.

His girth always has a way of stretching you open, and every time feels like the first as he taps at your thigh reminding you to take deep breaths. Fuck the party, you could stay here all night.

“Fill you up so nicely…we’re almost there, good girl.” His voice shakes, wanting to slam the rest of him straight into your cervix.

Your hands are gripping his shoulders until you finally feel him nudge the deepest parts of you, and you sigh when it all fits. Perfect.

“Always so big Jamie. Almost too much.” He kisses your cheek, hips starting to create a rhythm as he mutters into your ear.

“Not too much for my girl. Just perfect. Perfect pussy for this cock. All for you,” he grits, skin sliding and slapping as your thighs get pressed into your chest with the intense force he’s plunging into your guts.

“James, fuck….fuck you’re so deep! Feels so fucking good!” Filthy whimpers leave you and he loves the sound of your desperation when he’s inside of you like this. Too bad there’s no one else here to hear it. If Steven could only see you now.

“Such a good cunt for me to use. Only mine.”

He gasps for air as his feet slip against the tile once more, his heavy breathing fogging up his glasses, and his hold on you just as tight as your grip on his cock. Shit. His heart almost fell through his ass.

Your eyes open to see him struggling and a giggle escapes your mouth as you watch the stupid fucked out look on his face.

“How do people even fuck in the shower? This shit’s dangerous. Don't wanna maim the Gryffindor captain again.”

Your laughter sends jolts down to his throbbing shaft and he shakes his head with a smile, parting the curtain with one hand before carrying you still impaled on him towards the metal benches, placing you down softly.

“At least you finally admit it was your fault, baby. Could barely see straight for a week after.”

He wipes his glasses between his fingers before gazing at you lying across the bench, legs spread and ready for him. What a woman.

“And here I am hoping that when you’re done with me I won’t be able to walk for a week after,” you breathe, hands squeezing your tits as his pupils dilate further at the sight of you. What a fucking witch!

“Fucking hell, you know I love you, right?”

James positions himself over you, kissing your ankle as he sheathes himself back into your sex, resuming his brutal pace and hurtling you quickly towards your peak.

“Y-yes! Merlin, fuck I… looove you!” you wail, hips rolling to meet his and his balls strike your ass hard with each thrust. Your insides are being shifted around with him spearing your cervix like this and there’s nothing in this world that you could name that’s able to compare to how he makes you feel.

Your pussy contracts as he somehow nestles himself deeper, body trembling in this position as he throws your left leg over his shoulder, lips chasing your nipples trying to suck the life out of you, and perhaps that was his plan so you could forget anyone else but him.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop, James. Don’t you fucking DARE!” you beg, clawing your way down his back, making him nip at you in pleasure as you draw pinpricks of blood.

The tight pressure of release starts creeping at your core, making you squirm under him but he pins your waist down harder to the bench, the metal leaving prints against your flesh. His hands press harder on your stomach, silently encouraging you to cum and you can feel the imprint of his dick bulging from inside your stomach.

“Don’t struggle for me baby, just let it go. I know you wanna cum…. That’s it.” James praises in a shattered breath, watching you writhe underneath him as he holds you close. Your legs are shaking as your vision goes black for a moment, cunt gushing with release and squirt coats his pubic hair as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You lay there, catching your breath as the stars clear from your vision, and you look up at him stroking himself to the sight of you coming undone.

“Sheesh, look at the mess you made. You okay?”

“More than okay, Jamie. Need you to finish the job,” you tease, toes grazing the skin of his hip and he slaps at your thigh with a smile.

“Insatiable minx. Turn around then, ass up f’me.”

You do as he says, getting on all fours and showing him the perfect round of your asscheeks, covered in milky residue from your recent orgasm, but you turn to look at him when he doesn’t come near.

“Babe?”

His locker clinks open as he pulls a fresh jersey out, walking back to you and guiding it over your head and arms as you smile, pecking his cheek. Your silly boy. There was no way you actually thought you hated him this time last year with how sweet he really is. His large hand grazes the embroidered patches now resting on your back, POTTER, in huge white letters, CAPTAIN, now resting at the base of your spine.

James’ eyes drift lower and he hums at the sight of you perched on the bench, dropping his face to your throbbing holes and taking a long swipe with the flat of his tongue as he savors your taste along with the sounds of your whining. From your swollen clit to the ring of your asshole he’s languishing in a flavor that’s so uniquely you, and he pulls back, smacking his lips.

“Scrumptious. How are you hotter with clothes on?” James grins, taking a playful bite of an asscheek before he slaps it lightly and stuffs you deep, without any further hesitation. Your sarcastic reply is lost in a moan that makes your toes curl.

He works you open onto his cock again, your back arching desperately to be as close as possible and his hand presses you down, sliding up your spine until his fingers curl around strands of your hair. Tits swinging until they’re crushed against the bench, your face is smooshed as you mumble pathetically in his grasp.

“What was that baby? Can’t hear you well…” He spits at you, and if anyone could see this they’d know he was enjoying the sight of you at his mercy. He grinds his shaft against your walls, ramming against your g-spot and you drool like a mindless plaything, greedy for his attention.

“Right…right fucking there, ohmygod!” His cock pummels your cunt deliciously, hands spreading your cheeks wide and the stretch is so good, perfectly stroking the need in your belly.

“You’re so needy, pretty girl. You love it like this, huh? Good thing I fuck you so well, right?”

Merlin, this boy can pull orgasms out of you as well as he plays quidditch. He’s the only person in the world you’d gladly submit and be this pathetically cockdrunk for. Good thing he's yours.

“Yes…yes! So good Jamie. No one can fuck me like you….”

The white-hot sensation digs at your insides as his fingers fall to your clit, rubbing at you just the way you like as shockwaves shake every crevice of your being. He's breathing over your neck, hot air puffing and elevating your senses before they shut down completely.

“Yeah? Then come on my cock again right now. Show me you like it that much. Now.”

Your arms give out, falling completely forward as your body jerks in searing pleasure, pussy fluttering around his cock once more, so intensely. Your hands flail behind you until they find his, and he's pulling you up against his hard chest as he bounces you onto his length and chases his high.

“Give it to me, please, please… I can take it!” You’re screaming now, at the intersection between pain and pleasure but wanting to make sure you can milk him for his efforts. James’ thrusts stagger as he leans his head on your shoulder, biting you as he cums hard.

“I know you can, baby. All yours…” he chokes out.

Thick white ropes coat your insides, wrapping you tight around him like a present until the excess seeps out to the base of his cock. You kiss his temple as James starts to regulate his breathing.

“Fuck. Fuck….” you drag out, the two of you more winded than you were playing the damn game.

“I still have to return Steven’s jersey,” you mumble, and James can’t do anything but smirk at the thought of the clueless boy standing outside your House's locker room while he fucked you senseless a few doors over. What a shame.

—

The two of you walk hand in hand into the Gryffindor common room to a crowd of students cheering for James. The party is well underway and many hands clap his now injured back, to which his grimaces make you bite back a laugh. Speaking of bites….

Sirius walks up to you with two cups of punch, wide grey eyes zeroed in on you wearing James’s jersey and the glaring red marks of your boyfriend’s teeth on your neck.

“Merlin. I thought you two would take time to celebrate on your own but did you fucking attack her?”

You both take the cups out of his hands, searing blushes on your faces and leave Sirius to his own imagination before James whispers in your ear that he’ll be gone for a moment.

“Okay, but hurry back, baby.”

A peck on the lips sends him on his way to walk straight towards that wanker–er, Steven with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Potter! Have you seen–” the dumb boy says eagerly, before James cuts in, “Yeah, my girlfriend couldn’t meet you earlier, sorry mate.”

His hand digs into the undetectable extension charm in his knapsack, pulling out a soggy, ripped jersey.

“We were kind of busy, but you know how to fix that don’t you? You’ll need it to keep you warm on the bench for the rest of the season after all.”

It plops sadly onto the floor in front of the guy, and James looks at him, hazel eyes conveying what he knows he doesn’t have to remind him anymore.

“Thanks again! Appreciate you looking out for my girl.”

He walks away from Steven, who’s sputtering sad excuses and your eyes meet his as James finds you near the drinks table.

“What did you do?” You say with a lifted brow.

“Nothing, pretty girl. Just making known what’s mine.”

—

"you are pressing against me

like i press flowers

against the pages in my book.

you are kissing my neck

and it feels like the start of forever.

i want to touch you until my palms burn."

-amirae garcia

taglist (OPEN): @jsjcue