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marvelstoriesepic · 6 months ago

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Casual Sweetness

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x reader

Summary: You seek out your roommate and best friend Bucky for comfort after a girls night out leaves you shaken up.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: slight mentions of handsy strangers at a bar (nothing graphic); so much comfort

Author’s note: I don’t know where this came from. I started writing it, then finished it and now it’s existing and I’m putting it out there.

Masterlist

Never once has a night out with your girls left you this unsatisfied. Or, shaken, really. Every pre-planned rendezvous or spontaneous meet-up at a local bar with Wanda and Nat had always been a reliable escape from the daily grind.

You three like to cozy up at home, preferably at Wanda’s, and binge-watch a worthy series. And while that held its certain appeal, every once in a while you would find yourselves dancing and drinking, surrounded by people who wouldn’t remember enough of you, if the amount of liquor drove you to making decisions that sober you wouldn’t have even thought of. It has always provided an outlet for stress and helped you recharge.

Not tonight though. The strangers in the new bar you girls tried out tonight were far too handsy, your head started pounding uncomfortably even before taking the first sip and thinking about the bartender only makes dread pooling in your gut.

You also weren’t able to distract your mind, or rather your heart.

Usually, you would think about getting an Uber to meet up with your friends but Bucky always insisted on driving you when he wasn’t busy. But really, he never seemed to be, anyway. Not when it meant you would have to leave the apartment on your own. Nothing had his priority other than chauffeuring you around. You never asked him to do that, he just had a habit of insisting and there was nothing you could do. He had told you as much.

And tonight was no exception. He had sprung up from the couch, movie already paused, and keys in hand when you had emerged from the bathroom and practically ushered you into his car to drive you to the bar you girls had agreed on meeting at.

“Just don’t like the idea of you sittin’ in the backseat of some car, looking all pretty and dressed up with some guy in the front, thinking god knows what. Not takin’ any chances, doll, let me drive you.”

You always roll your eyes and scoff at his exaggerated concern, reminding him that it was said guy’s job to drive you to your wanted destination. You usually ignore the rest of his words. A simple shirt and jeans would hardly qualify as ‘dressed up’ for you and the idea of you being ‘pretty’ was something you would usually laugh at.

But it was hard to laugh at that when it came out of Bucky’s mouth. Your roommate. Your friend. Maybe even your best friend. But that’s where it stopped because nothing more ever happened. And you doubted it would.

So you let his words slide and let them wash over you because if you would address them, you would start thinking. And think, you do not want to. Because thinking only leads to foolish hope. A hopeless belief, that perhaps Bucky feels what you feel and suppresses it the same way you are. A ridiculous belief that he has the same overwhelming feelings about a friend that goes way beyond what friends normally feel for each other.

So you never let yourself think too hard, shoving those feelings into a box at the very back of your mind and swallowing down the key with the hard liquor when you went out for some drinks. It always burns on its way down. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s that lingering ache. It really is not clear to you, but it does offer you a sense of reprieve, if only temporarily.

With every hungover the next day, follows the inevitable onslaught of that knot inside your chest and that rusty key resurfaces, reopening the box and unleashing a fresh wave of longing.

It only worsens in the way he would take care of you.

Every glass of water, each soft touch, each softly whispered inquiry is a gentle prod to the already gaping wound that was caused by the feelings of unrequited love.

The pancakes he would bring to your bed - because you were too grumpy to leave it - never satisfies the nourishment your soul craves. The pain relievers he would put on your nightstand, already there when you’d get back, would only serve as a cruel reminder that nothing could relieve the ache inside your chest.

With every “You feelin’ better, doll?” and “There anythin’ else I can do for you, sweetheart?” the ache deepens, spreading like wildfire through your veins, reaching your bones and searing through them like branding irons with the intention to leave marks that you believe to be permanent.

The hangover eventually leaves your body, but your heart festered.

However, the ache is not always the dominant emotion in Bucky’s presence. It isn’t always the first thing you acknowledge. First and foremost, being in Bucky’s proximity elicits a profound sense of comfort and warmth.

It let the butterflies in your stomach flutter uncontrollably with every belly laugh he let out unabashedly, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut, crinkles forming at their corners.

Your heart does unwanted flips at every pet name Bucky lets casually slip passed his lips, seeming so nonchalant about calling you doll and sweetheart but to you it means everything.

Every tender gesture leaves you breathless. You had been living with him for nearly a year now and you had come to acknowledge how sharing a space with him had become a delicate balancing act between euphoria and agony.

Bucky would bring you a hot water bottle at times when your cramps got too bad, or simply when you experienced menstrual discomfort, trying to soothe you with sweets he extra went out for.

He would jokingly chastise you to fold your clothes before storing them in the closet to prevent them from wrinkling and tease you when you didn’t. But it always ended with him taking matters into his own hands and carefully folding your clothes while you watched him from your bed, making fun of him when he turned red attending to your undergarments, despite trying to remain indifferent.

He would cook with and for you, make you coffee in the mornings, distract you with terrible jokes when you had a bad day, and leave you to it when all you needed was some me-time, only checking in when he needed to be sure you were okay.

His casual sweetness was a constant assault on your composure.

But right now, as you klick the door to your shared apartment shut and slip out of your shoes with a heavy sigh, it is all you can think of. His gentle touch, the sparkling blue of his eyes, the cheerfulness of his smile that makes your insides do somersaults.

It is still early. Earlier than you had ever been home after a night out and you’re sure Bucky is still awake. The lights in the living room are out which means he is in his room, perhaps engrossed in his laptop, reading a book, or idly scrolling through his phone.

Yet, you hesitate, staying rooted to the spot in the hallway. It was nothing unusual for you to knock on Bucky’s door, sometimes simply barging in if you felt particularly bold or just wanted to annoy him. But you had never sought him out before simply because you needed him. Needed his comfort, his reassuring whispers, the warmth that radiates off him and seeps into your skin.

So to buy some time, you retreat to the bathroom; emptying the contents of your bladder, splashing water on your face, and brushing your teeth.

There is only so much time you can stall, and soon enough you find yourself standing in front of Bucky’s bedroom door, clothes discarded and changed for more comfortable sleepwear. There is no noise filtering through the wall of his room but the soft glow seeping beneath the door offers a glimmer of hope.

You try to soothe the shakiness of your hands and rub them along the fabric of your shirt before lifting one hand to knock on his door. The sound is softer than intended, but Bucky’s gentle ‘come in’ was immediate.

Opening the door slowly you find him leaning against the headboard of his bed, dark sheets loosely draped around his waist. His grey shirt makes him look cozy and in his lap lay a book. One you had recommended him to read.

Your body reacts in an instant, shoulders dropping ever so slightly and a breath leaves your lips at the comfort he already provides.

“You’re back early,” he starts when you keep standing at the door unmoving, “didn’t expect you home til’ midnight at least.”

The familiar cadence of his tone provides you the sense of stability you had needed to let go of his doorknob, however, the teasing in his voice wasn’t lost on you. He seems to have expected you to tumble through the door at an ungodly hour, dropping in your bed and waking the next morning with a hangover worse than the last time.

You assume the bottle of water and the painkillers already found their place on your nightstand.

A huffed laugh leaves your lips but your expression remains unchanged as you shift awkwardly in his doorway. “Uh, yeah, we decided to leave earlier. Weren’t really feeling it, I guess.” You shrug, attempting to sound nonchalant, but Bucky’s brow begins to furrow softly and he shuts his book, placing it on his nightstand without taking his eyes off you.

“You alright, doll?” His voice was devoid of the teasing tone he had held moments before, “did something happen?” His eyes are intense, scanning your face and you break eye contact, letting your gaze wander across his room as if you see it for the first time.

You take a deep breath, hands twisting nervously and your heart picks up in pace. “I, uhm…It’s-” You stumble over your words, a shaky breath escaping your mouth instead of a coherent answer.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bucky shift on his bed, straightening as if preparing to come closer to you but your next words halt him in his movements.

“Can I maybe stay with you? Tonight?”

It comes out more pleading and quieter than wanted but you don’t care about that right now. Not with the way Bucky looks at you. He is halfway out of the bed already, sheets thrown back onto the mattress but he still doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“Course you can stay, doll! Of course you can.”

Bucky’s voice holds a reassuring firmness, while he still talks softly. Your teeth clamp down on your lower lip, watching him cross the room to you and placing his hands gently on your upper arms to take a better look at you. His eyes move between yours, brows deepening, concern etching itself into every line of his face.

“You wanna tell me what happened? Somebody make you uncomfortable?” There is something in his tone you can’t concentrate on, only shaking your head at his questions.

“I don’t- Can we not-” Your words were cut short by the gentle touch of Bucky’s hand on your face. His thumb begins to steadily swipe over your cheekbones so tenderly, a shiver rushes down your spine. He had never touched you like this before and you are trying your very best not to let your eyes droop and melt into him.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now, doll, I just-” So many emotions are swirling in the depth of his blues, his worry still the most outstanding. “Just wanna make sure you’re okay,” he whispers. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”

His thumb doesn’t ease the motions over your skin and it is that you realize your hands stopped shaking and your heartbeat fell back in place without conscious effort. He has done so much for you already, without knowing it.

A deep, audible sigh escapes your lips and you offer him your first genuine smile of the night. “Just wanna stay here with you,” you whisper, your gaze locked onto his and if the world stopped moving for a second you would be none the wiser.

The comforting circles of his thumb paused and you feel that damned rusty key turning in the deadbolt of the lock to the box of your feelings, opening them with a screech and letting the contents spill out, open for him to see. And there comes the hope again. The belief that the depths of his eyes reflect the very same emotions you have plastered on your face.

But how can you not believe it when his expression holds something that looks to you a lot like love. A love, an affection, that, as you’ve established goes way beyond friendship.

Warm lips brush against your forehead and you let your eyes close for a second, savoring the feel of them. Gentle hands guide you towards his bed and you move like putty, allowing yourself to be enveloped in the soft sheets, full of his scent.

Bucky crawls in beside you, laying his body to face yours and you can’t help but study the way the soft glow of the moon that seeps through the curtains, reflect on the planes of his face, after he shut off the little lamp on his bedside table.

“Thank you, Bucky!” you whisper, the sound almost getting lost in the sheets, but he hears you, a soft smile forming on his lips, the moon allowing you to see it.

“Not for this, sweetheart. Never for this,” he whispers back and you let your eyes fall shut with a content sigh.

Right before sleep can claim you, you feel the comforting weight of his hand, covering your own over the sheets and silently linking with your fingers.

“I’ve found a natural drug for all of my panic, anxiety, and anger. It’s his voice. It’s him.”

- J.R. Rogue

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky oneshot #Bucky comfort #soft!bucky barnes #soft bucky #roommate Bucky #roommate!Bucky #Casual Sweetness

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strawberrystepmom · 1 year ago

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gojo x f!reader. woke up tender don’t look at me.

“Stop looking at me.”

The statement comes from your side of the bed, your half of the duvet you share with Satoru pulled over your chin, your eyes still closed and your lashes resting against your soft cheek. Your voice is raspy, throat dry from sleeping, and he simply chuckles next to you.

“How do you know what I’m looking at? Your eyes are closed.”

They are but the fact he has rolled over onto his side facing you and has been that way for at least ten minutes makes whatever point he’s been trying to make moot. You felt him shift when he first moved and you snuggled further into the bedding covering you, refusing to allow him to interrupt the last bits of sleep you’re entitled to.

Despite this, you can’t just go back to sleep and let him have the last word.

“You aren’t the only one with great perception around here, genius.” One of your arms slips over the top of your covers and reaches out to lightly flick the tip of his nose but he stops you halfway, capturing your hand in his and pressing your palm to his puckered lips.

You may be grumpy before 9 am but it’s hard to remain that way when he presses another kiss into your palm, this one accompanied by an exaggerated smack which makes you giggle. He does it again and takes a deep breath, again dramatic and grand, and continues the process until your giggle becomes a full blown laugh. Sleepy eyes open, blinking and watery, and meet his that are already crinkling at the corners from how hard he’s smiling looking at you.

“I’m up, are you happy?”

He hums and kisses your palm again, grin spreading across his face.

Morning suits you so well it’s a mystery to him why you hate it so much, warm light pouring over your face and body from the bedroom window and illuminating someone he’s already certain is an angel with a heavenly glow. How can he not stare until he has had his fill? The unfortunate thing about Satoru is that he doesn’t think he ever will, as gluttonous and greedy when it comes to you as he is those cream and strawberry filled sweets he brings home.

“Yes. I was lonely.”

You groan and roll your eyes but roll over onto your side to face him anyway. He will never tell you outright when he’s feeling wrong - sad or lonely or tired - but you are good at reading between the lines considering how often you speak in riddles yourself. The truth between these lines? He likely tossed and turned all night and has spent far longer than the last quarter of an hour staring at you and pondering what it means to love you, the divine gift he feels unworthy of receiving but is far too selfish to allow another to take.

Reaching out, you cup his cheek in your warm palm and his eyes shut reflexively. You rub your thumb over the skin of his cheek and while he’s distracted you lift your other arm from beneath the blanket and reach across your body to flick the tip of his nose playfully.

“You should be thanking me for being here to save the day,” you joke and he chuckles, unable to find the drama to react to you flicking his nose because of how happy he feels for the first time in hours.

The small gap between your bodies closes and he pulls you to his chest, kissing the top of your head. You nuzzle against him and he gently rocks you.

“Yeah, thanks or whatever. Not like I needed you or anything.”

You giggle, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Another kiss to your forehead. Satoru begins giggling wildly and you unbury your face from his chest, slightly concerned about what you’re going to look up to see but all you’re met with is a grin and eyes as clear as a cloudless sky.

“Just kidding,” he whispers, dragging the last syllable of the word for dramatic effect. He extends it for as long as he can until you shake your head and press your palm against his mouth.

“Good morning!” His greeting is muffled by your palm and you laugh when he takes liberties to keep kissing the soft skin through his own fit of giggles.

You may not be a morning person but every morning is easier when it is spent by his side.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #kendall writes

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year ago

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I Promised You I’d Never Give Up - Part 4

➪the one where bradley comes home and the two of you finally celebrate your engagement.

Warnings: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, swearing, unprotected sex, pain kink, oral (f receiving), pda, hair pulling, mentions of a sex tape, fingering, multiple orgasms, soft dom bradley, daddy kink...?, more than half of this is just smut lolz....the end...?

Word Count: 7.7k | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Yes…feels so good, Bradley,”

Bradley groaned as he watched the video you and he made the night before his two month deployment. He was painfully hard, and while his hand helped relieve it a bit, nothing compares to you.

“Bradley,” your voice cried through the phone’s speakers. “Touch me, please.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, stroking himself a bit faster and squeezing his eyes shut when the phone landed on the bed and kept recording the sounds of your sweet moans. He was left to imagine your beautiful face and your sinful body in his mind, the sounds you made when you came spurring his own release. “Baby.”

He wished you were there with him so badly. As he painted his hand white with his release, he glanced down at his phone and watched as you ran your finger through the mess he made on you before licking it clean and smiling.

Then the video ended and he was left feeling only half satisfied.

He felt grateful that he had the video on his phone, and a bit bad that you were left with nothing. He smirked to himself as he began cleaning up the evidence of what he did, the email you sent him nearly two months ago flashing in his mind.

I should’ve made you send that video to me before you left. I want you so badly, I can’t even function properly.

He knew you were over-exaggerating a bit, but it was still kinda funny to imagine you not being able to get yourself off when he wasn’t there to do it for you. It also turned him on, thus resulting in him watching the video you made together for the hundredth time since he started this deployment.

He could only imagine you laying on your shared bed, your fingers doing nothing at all to soothe the ache in your core. Then he imagines your fingers in general, and how he put a ring on one of them before he left.

“Bradshaw,” Jake called through the locked door. “You decent? We’re going home tomorrow, I need to pack.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bradley muttered as he stuffed his phone into his packed bag before unlocking and opening the door. “You really think I’m not aware of the fact that we’re going home in less than twenty hours?”

Jake rolled his eyes as he entered the small room and sat down on his bed. “No, I didn’t think that,” he answered as he pulled his bag out from under the bed frame. “You’ve been all packed up and ready to go for days now. You’re usually the one reminding me.”

“Can you blame me?” Bradley grinned as he sat down on his bed. “You know you miss her just as much as I do.”

Jake nodded and began messily throwing his clothes into the bag. “Just not in the same way,”

Bradley huffed out a laugh and moved to lay down. “Yeah, and you’re lucky that’s the case,” he said and looked over at the blond. “You ever like her as more than a friend, Seresin?”

Jake stopped packing and gave him a weary look, making Bradley’s small smile disappear as he put on a stern look.

“You can tell me,” he pressed. “I won’t get mad.”

“Yeah, right,” Jake snorted and set his bag aside. “Like hell you won’t. You’re so obsessed with Y/n, you’d get mad if Bob was looking at her in a certain way.”

“Nah,” the brunet disagreed as he tucked his hands behind his head. “I’d never get mad at Bob.”

“Just at me,” Jake muttered before sitting up straight. “No. I’ve never liked her as more than a friend. She’s like my sister, and you should know that by now, Rooster.”

Bradley hummed, closing his eyes as he refrained from counting down the minutes until he was back with you. “Just making sure we’re still on the same page here, Hangman,”

“We are,” Jake confirmed, zipping up his poorly packed bag and setting it down on the floor. “When we get back, are you going to let me say hi to her before you drag her back home and do whatever it is that you two do together?”

“No,”

When Bradley added a headshake in, Jake huffed and moved to lay down as well. “Why am I not surprised,”

I can see the dock. Please tell me you’re there.

Bradley hastily typed out the message before sending it to you, looking up as if that would help him figure out where you were in the crowd. The dock couldn’t get closer any slower if it tried, he thought as he looked back down at his phone.

Pretty girl: I’m here, Bradley. Of course I’m here. I missed you so much.

His heart skipped a beat or two as he dropped his bag onto the ground of the carrier deck and replied to you.

I missed you, too. Almost there, baby. I hope you’re ready.

Your instant response had him smirking.

Pretty girl: Been ready for the last two months. Been wet, too. Still am.

He picked his bag back up when the carrier finally reached the dock, and he had to refrain from using his size to his advantage like he didn’t necessarily enjoy doing. Bradley had long since lost sight of Jake as he finally made it off the carrier. He fumbled around with his phone when he stepped onto the dock, bringing it up to his ear after clicking on your contact. “Baby, where are you?” He asked as soon as you answered.

“Made it easy for you,” you answer and he could’ve moaned at how sweet your voice sounded. Sure, he heard your voice in the video, but hearing you in real life, even through a phone call, had his mind going into a frenzy. It was fucking torture that he wasn’t allowed to call you at all this time around. “At the very back, close to the road.”

He actually groaned this time as he moved through the crowd, pressing his phone tightly against his ear. “I’m coming, pretty girl,”

He could practically hear your smirk. “Not yet,” you say. “But you will be soon.”

Before Bradley could moan again, he felt someone grip his shoulder. He turned for a brief second, the sight behind him making him roll his eyes before turning back around and heading towards the far end of the dock. “Jake’s with me, too,”

“Jake! I missed him!” You say excitedly and Bradley once again rolls his eyes. Jake was such a fucking mood killer, it was unfair. This wasn’t the first time the blond had interrupted his time with you. He had nearly walked in on Bradley jerking off more than a few times during the last couple of months, and now he was interrupting his foreplay with you.

“You missed me more,” he said smoothly as Jake kept a firm hold on his shoulder, as if he was a mother guiding her child through a busy store.

“Jesus, Bradshaw, slow down,” Jake called out over the chaos of people around them. “I need a ride.”

Bradley stopped dead in his tracks, making Jake bump into him. “Like fuck you do,” he said, still holding the phone to his ear.

“Come on, man, I said I might need you to drop me off once we got back,” Jake pointed out and Bradley was about to disagree with that until he suddenly remembered the conversation the two of them had a few nights ago. It was right after Jake had nearly walked in on Bradley watching the video, and his head was still swarming with the image of you, he couldn’t be blamed for tuning the other guy out.

“Fuck, you’re right,” he muttered before continuing to walk, ignoring the smirk Jake gave him as he followed closely behind. “We need to drop Jake off, baby. Then we’re going home.”

“God, I can’t wait for you to take me home,” you all but moaned into the phone, and of course the sound went right to Bradley’s dick.

He grunted, glancing back at his…friend? Is that what the two aviators were now? “I’m almost there,”

“I can’t wait,” you say back. “I’m literally shaking.”

Bradley grinned as he finally made it through the swarm of people, and then he was scanning the area for both you and the Bronco. He barely acknowledged Jake as his eyes met yours, and he hung up the phone and was making his way over to you within four strides.

You met him a little less than halfway and jumped into his awaiting arms after he dropped his bag. “Bradley,” you say, relief evident in your voice as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “I missed you.”

His lips were on yours shortly after that, and his hands moved to hold your dress down so you didn’t accidentally flash the many people around. Your teeth nipped his lips as you pressed kiss after kiss to them, your hands sliding up and tangling in his slightly longer hair.

He was planning on going and getting it cut when he got back to San Diego, but might hold off on that as your relentless tugging felt even better than before. “Baby,” he mumbled when he pulled away and wrapped his arms around you tightly. “I missed you so fucking much. My girl. My fiancée.” He grabs your hand in his and kisses your finger that held your pretty ring, and it was nearly blinding as it reflected off the sun.

Now that he knew what it was like, he was certain that nothing felt better than having someone to come back to after his deployments, and having that someone be you was making him feel slightly feral.

You grin as he kisses you again, your lips meshing together a bit awkwardly at first before you start to kiss him back. “Bradley,” you sigh against his mouth, pulling away just slightly. “I need…Jake!”

“I need- what?” Bradley barely managed to ask before he felt a light slap on his back.

“Hey, sweetheart,” came Jake’s voice from behind him. “Did you miss me, too?”

You smile at him and move to get down. Bradley helps you steady yourself before you throw yourself at Jake. “Of course I missed you,”

“It’s good to see you,” he says as he returns the hug. The second you stepped away, Bradley was pulling you against his side and pressing kiss after kiss to the top of your head. “And I know, I know. I’m ruining your little reunion, so the quicker we leave, the quicker you can drop me off and the quicker you two can get home.”

“You’re right again, Seresin,” Bradley said as he picked his bag up and tugged you over to the passenger side door of the Bronco. He opens it and kisses you again once you are seated, moving to stand in between your thighs as you pull him closer. His hands grip your waist while yours tangle in his hair, and he knew if you kept this up, he would be sporting a hard on in no time. He groaned as he pulled away. “We gotta go.” He stated, kissing you one last time before closing the door and opening the back one.

Jake pushes past him and hops in the Bronco, grinning at Bradley as he says, “And they say chivalry is dead,”

You turn and look back at him as Bradley throws his bag at Jake before closing the door. “Have you two finally gotten past whatever it was that was between you? Dare I ask, are you two friends?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Bradley answers as he gets in on the drivers side.

“We’re working on it,” Jake says and settles back against the seat.

You raise a brow as Bradley takes your hand in his and pulls out of the parking spot, driving a bit over the speed limit in order to get rid of Jake as fast as he could. “I’m really glad you two are finally getting along,” you say as you near Jake’s street. “My best friend and boyfriend are actually becoming friends. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’m sorry, your what?” Bradley asks, looking over at you with a smirk.

You match it as you lean over and grip his thigh. “Sorry,” you say. “I meant my best friend and my fiancé.”

“Better,” he murmured and refrained from rolling his eyes at the loud way Jake cleared his throat.

“You guys are too much,” he says and takes off his seatbelt. “Hold off on jumping each other for thirty more seconds, okay? I’ll be gone soon enough.”

You laugh and pull away, much to Bradley’s dismay as he reaches Jake’s house. “There you go, now get out,” he says and you slap his arm.

“Bradley,” you scold as Jake opens the back door and gets out.

“It’s fine. We spent the last two months together,” he says and smiles at you. “I’m sick of the guy, too.”

Bradley glared at him as Jake winks at you before walking into his house. “He’s gone,” you state the obvious and grip his thigh again. “Now don’t make me beg. Take me home.”

He groaned, pulling out of Jake’s driveway then taking your hand again. “But you know I love it when you beg,” he smirked as his thumb spun the ring around your finger. “My fiancée is so needy for me.”

You bring your joined hands up to your mouth, where you gently begin sucking on his index finger. “You have no idea,” you mumble and Bradley was barely able to concentrate on driving as he felt your tongue swirl around the tip of his finger. “I’ve only made myself come twice since you’ve been gone.”

“What?” He asked in shock, looking over at you when he stopped at a red light. His thumb pulled at your bottom lip, his brows furrowing when you let out a needy whine. “You’ve gotten yourself off twice in two months? That’s it?”

You whine again as your face heats up. “They both lasted less than a second each. I can’t make myself feel as good as you do,” you defended yourself. “How many times did you get off?”

“Like, nearly every night,” he grunted, driving again once the light turned green. “Fuck, baby, now I feel bad.”

You laughed, bringing his hand down so it was gripping your thigh. “Don’t,” you wave off. “It was quite eye opening to realize that you were right when you said I wouldn’t be able to forget you were gone once I tried to make myself come without you here to do it for me.”

His smirk grew as his hand slid higher up your thigh. “I’m really glad I was right about that,” he briefly looked over at you, his gaze softening as he noticed the way your face was flushed and your eyes were wide with lust. “You need me, huh?” His quiet question lacked any sort of mockery, and he sounded so genuine.

It had you squeezing your thighs together. “Bradley,”

“I need you, too,” he continued as he turned onto yours and his street. “I need to feel you, right here.” His hand moved under your dress and stroked your lace covered core.

“Oh, God,” you moan and grip his wrist as he begins to softly rub your clit.

Bradley pulled into the driveway and pulled the keys out not even a second later. “Come here, baby,” he rasped, helping you over the center console and letting you settle against his lap. “Come ride my thigh.”

You brace yourself on his lap and place your hands on his shoulders, your fingers digging into his uniform shirt. His hands grab your waist and pull your body right up against his before gently guiding you forward.

The soft, relieved sigh that leaves your mouth had him leaning in and connecting his mouth to yours. “Missed that sound,” he mumbled, rocking your hips against his thigh. “That video doesn’t do you any justice, pretty girl.”

You whine, tangling your hands in his hair. “I wanna see it,” you whisper, moving your body with the help of his hands. “Did you watch it a lot?”

He hummed, nodding before pushing you back a bit and kissing along the tops of your breasts. “I couldn’t stop watching it,” he confessed. You moan and lean back against the steering wheel, making sure, even in your lust filled haze, to not put too much pressure on the middle of it. “You looked so hot, baby, like you do right now.”

You whimper, blindly reaching for his biceps as his hands slide up your back. “Bradley,” you moan, helplessly clenching around nothing as you grind your core against his khaki covered thigh.

“I know, baby,” he cooed, kissing your neck before gently sucking a mark there. You moan a bit louder, reaching one hand down and gripping him through his pants. He groaned against your skin, sliding his hands to rest on the small of your back, where he tugged you forward with a bit more force than last time.

“Feels so good,” you whimper, leaning in and kissing him roughly.

Bradley didn’t really plan on getting you off in the Bronco and in your driveway, where literally any one of your neighbors could walk out of their houses and see you (which is why he didn’t pull your dress down and ravish your tits like he really wanted to - the neighbors did not need to see you in that way). But then you told him you hadn’t been able to make yourself feel good enough to the point of coming without him there.

At first he felt bad, but now he just felt smug and a bit full of himself. He had ruined you for any other guy - not that any other guy would even get a chance with you now - and even ruined you for yourself.

He had made you so needy for him, and that fact had made him painfully hard.

With that being said, he had a lot of making up to do.

He grunted quietly at your words, pulling away from your neck so he could take over the uneven movement of your hips. “Bradley,” you warn in a breathy voice.

“You gonna come?” He rasped, bending his knee a bit so his thigh tightened and gave you a more firm surface.

It was almost comical how quickly he was able to get you off without even actual penetration, and you were a bit embarrassed at the many hours you spent trying to do it to yourself when he was away. Nothing felt better than him, and that was beyond clear at this point.

You just whimper in response and cling onto him with shaky hands. “It’s okay,” he says quietly, kissing your jaw as your movements become a bit more frantic. “Come, sweet girl, you deserve it.”

His words go right through you and you cry out a bit, pressing your lips to his in an attempt to silence your sounds. “Fuck,” you whisper against his mouth as you stop grinding against him. You pull away with a fucked out expression on your face, and Bradley is sure he’s never seen a hotter sight. “Hi.”

He grins and kisses you quickly, smoothing out the fabric of your dress. “Hey,”

You smile back and glance down at the damp spot on his pants, a teasing look in your eyes. “I missed you,”

Bradley reached for the door handle and kept his free hand on your lower back as he got out. “I missed you,” he said back as he carried you up to the front door. He gives you his keys as he sets you down, his hands gripping your waist when you turn and unlock the door. “God, you look so pretty.”

You give him a smirk from over your shoulder as you enter the house, and he follows close behind and kicks the door shut behind him. “Guess what?” You ask as you turn around and drape your arms around his neck.

He hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as he pulled you against him. “What?”

“In a few days it’ll be one year since we met,”

Your words didn’t sound true to him, as it felt like he had known you for a lot longer than a year by this point, but when he gave it some thought, he realized you were right.

He was going on half a year of being with you, unofficially, when he fucked up and broke things off, then he spent a month and a half on his own, then another three after that with you as his official girlfriend, and now it’s been another two months.

“You’re right,” he mumbled, holding you even closer to him. “Almost one whole year since the second best night of my life.”

You squint as you play with his pins. “What’s the first?”

“The night I got you back,” he answered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “The same night I told you I love you.”

You give him a dumb grin as you tug at the hair on the back of his neck. “What a perfect night that was,” you agree and he shakes his head as he picks you up effortlessly and carries you down the hall towards your bedroom.

“It was perfect because you decided to forgive me for some reason,” he says as he lays you down on the bed. “Still haven’t quite figured out why you did that, but I’ll never complain.”

You shake your head as he unbuttons his shirt and lets it drop to the floor. “I’d forgive you a hundred times again if it meant it ended with us being together,”

Bradley kissed your mouth deeply, his hand coming up to grip one of your breasts through your dress as he did so. “We’ll always be together, I made sure of that,” he held up your left hand so your ring is on full display. That same hand tangles in his hair as he kisses his way down your body. “Now let’s see the mess you made.”

He pulls down your damp panties and drops them to the floor as well, his eyes darkening at your glistening core. You gasp as he leans in and licks a stripe up your folds, the sudden stimulation making your body shudder a bit.

His tongue gently traces circles onto your clit, and you tug on his hair in the way you know he loves. “Bradley,” you whimper, shaking a bit when he lifts a hand and slowly slips his middle and index fingers into you. “It’s too much.”

But your walls greedily sucked the digits in deeper, betraying your own words. “You can take it,”

And you could. He would never make you do something you weren’t comfortable with, nor would he ever push you past your limit. He knew how much you could handle, and he knew you weren’t close to that point yet. His dick twitched at the thought of getting you there, though.

You moan quietly, propping yourself up on one elbow as you thread your fingers through his hair. “Don’t cut this,” you softly request, making him laugh against you. The vibrations had you clenching tightly around his fingers and another moan leaving your lips, this one much louder than the last.

He pulls away from your core with wet lips that were curved into a smirk. “You like me with longer hair, huh?” He teased, tracing your clit again with a barely-there pressure.

“I love you with longer hair,” you correct and tilt your head back. “Please, don’t cut it for a little while, okay?”

He laughed again, fucking his fingers a bit faster into you. “I’ll keep it this way for as long as you want,” he offered and was completely serious. His hair had only grown about an inch while he was deployed, and though he preferred to have it short, he wasn’t opposed to growing it out for you.

In other words, he was completely whipped for you and wanted to do any little thing that would make you happy, and he would proudly admit that to anyone who asked.

“You love me that much, huh?” You tease back, your face scrunching up a bit as his fingers reach that spot deep within you.

“I think I love you a bit too much,” he said, his mouth returning to your clit. Your mouth opens in a quiet whine, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as he circles the bundle of nerves with his tongue. “You’re going to be my wife. My fucking wife.”

You grin down at him, your thighs shaking a bit when he fucks his tongue into you. “You kept your word, huh? About ensuring that I’d grow sick of you? I’ve heard a lot of horror stories about wives growing sick of their husbands, Bradley,”

He looks up at you, his mouth glistening. “We’re meant to be together, baby,” he states, wrapping his arms around your thighs. “You can grow as sick of me as you want, but I’m never getting over you.”

Tugging harshly at his hair, you whimper. “You always say the sweetest things,”

“I know,” he agrees. “You’ve made me so pathetic, but it’s worth it.”

You shake your head quickly, reaching further down and caressing the side of his face. “You’re not pathetic, Bradley,” you scolded with a hint of playfulness in your voice, but you were also dead serious. “Meeting you that night at the Hard Deck was the best thing that ever happened to me, and everything that happened after that led up to this. I wouldn’t change a thing. Not even the heartbreaks.”

Bradley pulled his mouth away and stared up at you with nothing but love in his dark eyes. “Baby,” he rasped, using his free hand to assist him in crawling back up your body. He continues to fuck his fingers into you as he presses his mouth to yours in a desperate and needy kiss. “I promise I will never hurt you ever again. That was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I promise, for as long as I’m with you, I’ll make sure you’re so fucking happy all the time.”

You smile into the kiss, raking your nails down his back with just enough pressure to cause the sting he loved so much. “Guess I’m going to be so fucking happy for the rest of my life,”

He grinned back at you. “I’ll make sure of it,” he repeats as the tips of his fingers brush against your sweet spot.

Your smile breaks as a moan tumbles from your mouth, and you grab onto his hair tightly and bring his mouth to yours in a messy kiss. “‘M gonna come again,”

Bradley hums against your mouth, your salivas mixing together and wetting both yours and his lips. “Come for me, baby,” he practically begged, wanting nothing more than to get you off at least a couple more times in the remainder of the day since you had been deprived of it for so long.

You gladly do as he says and come for the second time since he returned home. Your body shook a bit uncontrollably as you moaned against his mouth, his throat swallowing all of your sweet sounds. “Bradley,” you nearly whispered, reaching down to still his hand once you felt the sensitivity begin to take over.

“I know, pretty girl,” he cooed, kissing you again before slowly pulling his fingers out of your sopping core. Seconds later he was sucking them clean of your release, never breaking eye contact with you as he did so. “You’re so good for me, baby. Taste so good.”

“Jesus,” you mutter as you try to stop your legs from shaking. He just smiles at you, his hands reaching down to pull your dress up and over your head.

He leans down and kisses along the tops of your breasts, his fingers playing with the straps of your bra as he did so. “You gonna let me fuck you, sweet girl?” He asked, reaching behind you and unclasping your bra. “Think you can take another one?”

You nod your head as he drops your bra off the side of the bed, your kiss swollen lips puffed out and begging him to cover them with his own again. “Always,” you answer, unzipping his pants with shaky fingers.

Bradley watched with a teasing grin, his eyes moving up your bare body and meeting your own. “I don’t think you’re ready for another one,” he mumbled, trailing his fingers down your chest until they were pinching your nipples. “Think you need a minute.”

“No,” you shake your head and push down his khaki pants just enough to be able to free him from his tight boxer briefs. “Bradley, please.”

He just grinned down at your pleads, smoothing your hair out again. “You need me, hm?” He knew he was being cruel, but the sight of you so needy and whiny and desperate for him was one he loved to see. “You need to be filled.”

It wasn’t a question, because you both know the answer to it. “I need it so badly,” you agreed, pulling down his briefs and wrapping your small fingers around him. “Haven’t you missed being inside of me?”

Bradley groaned quietly as you began to stroke him. “Of course I did, baby,” he answered, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. Your hand felt so much better than his own, and he knew no one else could get him going like you can. “Missed it so much.”

“Then stop teasing me,” you murmur, stroking him a bit faster. He grunted and kissed your shoulder before sucking a mark there, and you moan as you wrap your legs around his waist. Biting down harshly on your lip, you think about what you were going to say next very carefully, and more specifically, what you were going to call him. You were a bit nervous as you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, but decided to go for it. You could wallow in the embarrassment later if he were to not be into it. “Come on, please….daddy.”

It was as if all the air in the room had been sucked away. Bradley tensed up immediately, his mouth detaching from your shoulder as he slowly began to lift his head. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears and your skin was on fire as you waited to see his reaction.

You were a bit worried that his silence meant something bad, but when he lifted his head all the way and finally met your gaze, his eyes were even darker and his expression told you all you needed to know. He was into it. “Daddy…huh?” He tested the word out and noticed the way you squirmed under him when he said it. He braced his forearms on either side of your head as he ground his front against yours, his mouth muffling the moan you let out as he pressed a deep kiss to your lips. “I’m your daddy, hm, baby?” He asked when he pulled away, his eyes flickering between your own and your mouth.

You nod once and smile shyly up at him, as if you hadn’t just called him your fucking daddy.

He groaned loudly, growing impossibly harder. “Is it because I’m ten years older than you?”

You shrug. “Maybe. I just wanted to try it out,” you mumble. “See how it felt. If you’re not into it-”

“Oh, I’m into it,” he cut you off, kissing your neck and throat as he tried to hold back his groans. “Fuck, am I into it. I’m trying not to come right now after hearing you call me that.”

You laugh, a blush taking over your face. “So, we’re both okay with it,” you state and he nods quickly. “Okay….now can you please fuck me? I missed you for two months, daddy.”

Bradley growled under his breath, reaching down and guiding himself into your dripping core without any resistance from you. “Fuck,” he grunted, sliding one arm under you while his other hand reaches up and tangles in your hair. “You feel so fucking perfect.”

You moan at the stretch of your walls, your own fingers being nothing compared to him. It was no wonder you couldn’t get yourself off when it was this you were so used to. “You’re so big,” you gasp when he begins to roughly rock his hips against yours. “Oh, God.”

“Not quite,” he rasped, pressing his forehead against yours with a smirk forming on his lips. “I think we established who I am to you, huh?”

Another blush takes over your face as you nod, raking your hands through his messy hair. “Right,” you say, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips. “You fill me up so well, daddy. Make me feel so good.”

“That’s right, baby,” he murmured, kissing you again as he fucked into you hard and fast, just the way he knew you needed. Your core greedily took every thrust, though sensitive, but desperate to be filled up by him. “‘M gonna make you my wife, pretty girl. Show everyone how much I fucking love you.”

Not that everyone didn’t already know, he wanted to add but didn’t. It was true, though. Everyone knew that he was in love with you before he even realized it himself.

You whine quietly, tracing his scars with the tip of your index finger. Your body rocked against his with every grind of his hips, your hands clinging onto any part of him they could get a firm grip on. “I love you, Bradley,” you moan, digging your heel into his lower back and driving him deeper into you. “I have since the very beginning.”

“I’ve loved you for almost a year now,” he commented, pulling away with a grin. “A whole year.”

You grin back, kissing his cheek and then his neck as you ask, “Bradley, let me ride you, please?”

It wasn’t a position you found yourself in too often, as you both preferred him to be on top, but it was one that allowed him to reach the deepest part of you.

He grunted and pulled away from you. “You think you can keep up, sweet girl? I’ve made you come twice now and you’re looking a little spent,”

“You’re the one who is ten years older, remember?” You remind him as you writhe around a bit. “I think I can keep up just fine.”

Bradley hummed, his grin turning into a smirk as he placed one hand on your lower back and pulled your body against his as he flipped you over so he was on his back. “Okay,” he challenged in a deep tone. “Ride me, then.”

You place your palms flat against his chest as you sink down onto him, the new angle making him stretch you in the best way possible. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

He laughs a bit as his hands move to grip your waist and help guide you up and down on him. “What makes you say that?”

Your brows furrow a bit as your nails dig into his skin. “You’ve gotten me off two times now, it’s not fair. You’ve ruined me,”

He laughed again, his thumbs pressing into the skin of your hips as you slowly rode him. “I thought that was a good thing,”

“It is,” you whisper as he reaches the deepest part of you, his tip brushing against your sweet spot. “Fuck.”

Bradley gives you a half smirk and half grin as he stills you by your hips and thrusts sharply upwards. “There?” He asks under his breath, knowing the answer but wanting to hear you say it.

Of course you give in. “Yes,” you whimper, scratching down his chest as he fucks up into you. “Right there, Bradley. Feels so good.”

You clench down tightly around him and Bradley had to force himself to not come right then and there. “I know,” he muttered through a tight jaw, his brows furrowing as you lean down and press multiple kisses to the scars on his throat and neck. “I know, baby, you feel so fucking good, too.”

“Bradley,” you whine, reaching a hand up and tugging on his hair. “I’m gonna come.”

Bradley, who had been holding off since he got you off in the Bronco, felt his body tense up as he helped you ride him until you had come for the third time since he got back. Your warmth floods around him and makes it easier to thrust up into you, and the fucked out expression you wore had him grunting as he came deep within you. “Fuck,” he rasped, keeping your body pressed firmly against his.

Still buried in you, Bradley slides his hands up your body until he is able to grip the back of your shoulders and hold you against him as he moves to lay on his side. You laugh loudly, wrapping your leg around his waist and draping your arms around his neck.

“I love you,” he murmured as he pressed kisses to your neck, his hand blindly reaching for your left one. He pulled back to be able to look at your ring for a few seconds, a dumb grin taking over his lips once he looked back at you. “I can’t believe we’re gonna get married. I mean, I can, but I can’t.”

You shake your head and lean up to kiss the base of his throat, feeling his deep groan against your lips. “Let’s go to the Hard Deck later,” you offer with a teasing smile.

He groaned again and shook his head, wrapping you up tighter in his arms and moving back up to the pillows. “No, baby, I wanna stay home with you all night,”

The movement caused him to shift slightly inside you, making you hold back a whine at the nearly overwhelming feeling of sensitivity. You couldn’t believe he had made you come three times in under an hour, when you couldn’t even do that after spending multiple hours trying to. “But we have some exciting news to share with our friends,” you state and run your fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth it out.

Bradley furrows his brows as he runs his hand up and down your back. “What do you mean?” He asks, pulling back to be able to look at you when you didn’t respond. Realization kicked in and his eyes widened a bit. “You didn’t tell anyone?”

You smile and shake your head. “No, I wanted us to tell them together. I hid my ring in public,” you say. “Why, who did you tell?”

“Only Jake, like, right after it happened,” he says as he finally pulls out and sits up against the headboard. You prop yourself up on your elbow and trail your fingers over the crevices of his abs, your mind a bit hazy at just how fit he is. “I swear, if he’s already told everyone I will make sure he does not get invited to the wedding. I don’t care if he’s our friend.”

“Our friend?” You ask with wide eyes. “I knew you two made up! Bradley, I’m so happy! You two were feuding for way too long.”

“That wasn’t my fault. Yeah, I fucked up first, but he’s the one who never gave me the time of day after you and I got back together,” he pointed out and wrapped his hand around your wrist, his thumb twirling your ring around. “He acted like I didn’t feel guilty for six weeks straight after we…broke up.”

“Bradley,” you trail off, sitting up and nuzzling into his side. “No more thinking about that day. Look at us now. We’re engaged. You’re going to be my husband, Bradley. Everything worked out in the end.”

He nodded and kissed the side of your head, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Yeah, I’ll always feel bad about it, though,” he mumbled but before you could scold him again he added, “Fuck it, we’re going out tonight. I can’t wait to show you off to everyone. Nat is going to freak the fuck out.”

“So, before we go in there, we need to address something,” Bradley says as you and he stand outside the Hard Deck. He wore tight fitting jeans and a pale blue and white Hawaiian shirt, and he looked damn near edible, you almost wanted to turn right back around so he could get you off for a fourth time.

Thinking he was referring to your secret engagement, you move closer to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “What is it?”

He grips your waist and the smirk that formed on his lips was all you needed to see to realize it wasn’t about the engagement. “This whole ‘daddy’ thing wasn’t a one time thing, right? Please don’t say it was a one time thing,”

You blush a bit and match his smirk, dropping your arms as you lean up and whisper, “Let’s go share our news, daddy,”

Bradley held back a groan as he blindly reached behind him and pulled open the door. You enter the Hard Deck tucked securely under his arm, your left hand hidden away in his back pocket. As soon as Nat locked eyes with him she was pushing her way through the crowd of aviators and throwing herself into her best friend’s arms. “I’m so happy you’re back,” she admitted and Bradley laughed as he hugged her back. “I gotta say, Y/n and I’s girl days weren’t really girl days at all. She spent the whole time whining about how much she missed you. It was sad, really.”

Your face heats up and you look away quickly, making Bradley grin down at you once he pulls away from the hug. “Yeah, well, I’m sure Jake feels the same way you do, Nat,” he said as he pulled you back into his side. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” she said back, looking between you and him. “It’s even better to see you two back together. So, when’s the wedding? I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t asked you to marry him yet.”

You and Bradley share a not-so-obvious look and Nat raises a brow.

“What? What am I missing…” she trailed off once you lifted your left hand and showed her the ring you spent the last two months hiding from her. Her face stayed a bit expressionless as she looked at the ring, then it was as a switch flipped as she let out a small squeal before covering her mouth. “You guys are engaged?! When? Where? How did this happen? Damn, Rooster, you haven’t even been home for twenty four hours yet and you already proposed to her?”

“As if,” he scoffed. “No, I proposed to her two months ago.”

Nat looked over at you with shock all over her face. “What? What the fuck, Y/n, how did you hide that from me?”

You shrugged. “I’m good at hiding things, I guess,”

This time Nat was the one to scoff. “Yeah, right. You couldn’t even keep your crush on Rooster a secret,” she said and you press your lips together in slight embarrassment when you hear Bradley laugh next to you. “We all knew you were in love with him from the night you met. You weren’t smooth about it at all.”

Bradley looks down at you with a teasing smile. “Aw,”

“Hey, you weren’t smooth about it, either,” Nat added, making his smile drop. “I can’t believe you guys are engaged! It took you long enough.” She moved to hug him again then moved onto you.

“Only you and Jake know now,” you say as you hug her back. “We’re going to announce it here.”

She pulled back with a barely concealed smile. “How did he go about it? Was it romantic?”

You look up at him with a sheepish grin. “He did it back on the dock before he left for his deployment. It was pretty romantic,”

Nat looked over at him as well. “Damn, Bradley, you left right after proposing?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t wait any longer,”

“You guys are seriously so cute. I’m so happy for you,” she beamed. “Now please tell everyone else. I have a big mouth and I’m refraining from screaming right now.”

And that was how you found yourself surrounded by the dagger squad, a beer in everyone’s hands as they congratulated you on your engagement. “Thank God you two got here before I did,” Jake said as he stood next to you at the bar. “I thought big mouth over here would’ve told everyone the second she left that dock. I was going to bring it up with Javy later. That would’ve been pretty awkward.” He nudged you and you rolled your eyes.

“Thanks for not spoiling the surprise, Jake,” you say and lean up to kiss his cheek.

“Congrats, sweetheart,” he winked at you and wandered off towards the dart board.

You turn to Bradley and find him grinning at you, and you weren’t able to smile back before he was leaning down and kissing you. “I love you,” he mumbles once he pulls away.

“I love you,” you say back and look down at the bar. “Hey, this is where we met. In this exact spot.”

Bradley, too, looked down and his smile only grew. “Would you look at that,” he said as he set his empty beer down before taking your half full one from your hand. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest, his hand finding yours and his thumb turning your ring again. “Look where we are now. We’re getting married. We belong together, pretty girl.”

“Took you long enough to realize it,” you teased and he just shook his head before kissing you again.

#rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun maverick #top gun au #rooster top gun #top gun rooster #tgm fic #tgm #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic

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daisystwistedgarden · 10 months ago

Text

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒔

a/n: let the record show this is not the fic i was supposed to be writing rn!! i've been working on a post about the character's prev hs experiences for the college au. but then @etheries1015 posted this fic about rubbing lilia's back and i read it and urgh. i couldn't stop myself. i also saw something going around about lilia using magic to cover up his scarring from the war and fuck that's so good. so i included it. here is my humble offering of a fic toying with these idea-- credit to the linked author and fic for premise!

content + warnings: lilia x gn!reader, suggestive, established relationship, pet names, reader lives in ramshackle, discussion of lilia's scarring + trust issues/evasiveness, reader debates if there's insecurity involved, implied further smut

word count: 1.4k

"you haven't been wearing your back brace recently, have you?"

"hmm... no, i don't suppose i have been."

"of course not. i saw you slouching at your computer earlier, too. no wonder you're so bent out of shape."

lilia chuckles from underneath you. you're almost certain there's a cheesy grin twisting his lips. knowing him, he's delighted by his own mischief, regardless of the effect it has on his body-- and, more obviously, he's delighted by the fact that you love him enough to do him this favor.

"you'll take care of me though, right?" he twists his head to peer over his shoulder at you. he's grinning.

"maybe i should just let you suffer. maybe then you'll learn to take your health more seriously."

"you're wicked, darling."

"no, but i should be. i'm too soft on you."

"you're the light of my golden years."

"yeah, yeah. quit squirming. i'm trying to get this knot between your shoulder blades."

somewhere along the way, you noticed that lilia has some lingering issues with his back. at first, it was subtle shifts in position on your earliest dates to hide the fact that sitting in one spot too long makes him sore. then it was the over-exaggerated stretching before every battle, always played for laughs but never skipped for fear of aggravating his injuries in public. lilia never outright told you he has issues with his back. you never pressed him on why-- it seems some parts of his past he'd rather leave behind-- but as your relationship developed, he became more comfortable lowering his guard and letting you into these parts of his life.

which is how you've ended up here.

ramshackle dorm's shotty yellow lighting comes off as warm and intimate as the sun begins to set through the large window nearby. lilia is sprawled out, face-down in your comforter. you sit carefully on his hips. his jacket and vest have long been discarded carelessly on your floor, leaving him in the button down he wore to classes. even that's mostly undone at this point. the ribbon usually tied around his neck is now bunched in his fist. you had, at one point, been discussing your day, but now the silence was only occasionally broken by the playful spats between you as you tried to urge your beloved fae to take better care of himself.

"that feels good," he murmurs as the heel of your palm pushes hard into the tough knot near the base of his neck. a pleased little groan just barely escapes his lips. "a little weak, but nice."

"sorry, it's just-- i don't want to crumple up your nice school shirt."

"do your worst," he replies. "unless you'd like me to take it off?"

"doesn't surprise me that you're so eager to strip while you're in my bed." now you're grinning.

his signature laugh is low and breathy. lilia is not facing you, yet you're certain his eyes have narrowed as he assesses the challenge laid before him. but you don't want to change the mood so soon-- after all, his back is still sore from the long day he had. you take the initiative to untuck his collared shirt from his slacks and slip your hands under the fabric.

there. under the pads of your fingertips, you can feel them-- the scars.

jagged. rough, still, even after what you assume are years of healing. the contrast between soft skin and scar tissue makes your touch falter.

it's important to note that you've never actually seen the scars on lilia's body. every time he's been shirtless around you-- from simple moments while changing to more intimate encounters-- his skin appears entirely smooth and unblemished. but the scars are there. no doubt. you can feel them, so certainly that you worried along the way that your vision was going bad for you to missing something so crucial. yet they never appeared no matter how close you got.

the conclusion you came to was that lilia was using magic to hide these scars from you, plain and simple. his motivation? unclear. maybe he was just more comfortable that way. but surely that took up unnecessary magic, right? you couldn't help but worry that maybe he hid them for fear of not being found attractive because of them. a ridiculous notion-- wasn't it clear how truly head-over-heels you were from day one?-- but you hadn't found a way to bring up these thoughts without seeming accusatory. maybe this was a molehill your own worries had made a mountain.

"something wrong, dear?"

his voice is even, but you can see right through the question. the lingering tension over these hidden scars hung thick in the air.

"... look at how bent out of shape you are, old man. i'm going to have to hide your controller if you don't stop slouching."

the joke successfully breaks the ice. any tension fades when lilia lets out an amused little scoff.

"i promise to wear my brace tomorrow, alright?" he acquiesces, shifting underneath you with the sort of old man grunt you've grown to find incredibly endearing.

"good enough."

you push up the rest of his shirt to have better access to his bare back. the conversation meanders to the events of the day, to the rest of your week, until the conversation devolves into jokes and teasing back and forth.

the air thickens, and a different kind of tension surfaces. silence fills the room, punctuated by the sound of your respective breathing and the occasional grunt or pleased groan from the man below you.

it's nice. his body is warm underneath yours, his skin soothing beneath your palms as you work his tense joints into languid putty in your hands. it's not often that lilia is so quiet and still for you. your lover is a vicious tease. it's a little surprising he wasn't tried to flip this situation on you yet. all this shifting and touching has left a pool of desire flickering to life in the pit of your stomach.

"my love?" you begin softly. the fae beneath you lets out a small hum of acknowledgement. "are you feeling a bit better?"

"absolutely," he murmurs, turning his head a bit so you can see his grin. he looks especially pleased as one cheek presses into the blankets, his eyes closed tight under your heavy gaze. "though i wouldn't protest if you continued..."

a moment passes where neither of you speak. your hands slide up the expanse of his bare back, mapping out the hidden texture, until they come to rest on near his shoulders where his shirt is bunched up. then they slide off of him entirely to brace yourself on the bed next to his sides. you lower yourself carefully until your chest grazes his back. his eyelids flutter, but they do not open. you can see his smile grow a bit wider in the meantime.

your lips press softly to the curve of his jawline. he lets out a pleased sigh. one ruby eye flickers open to get a look at you now that you've closed in on him.

"is this part of the massage?" he croons, low and breathy and all-too-pleased at where this might be heading.

"i don't know," you muse. "i thought about helping you relax in other ways... but i think your back's a little too weak for such strenuous activity."

a challenge. a wicked glint illuminates his eye, and his body vibrates under you as his signature laugh rings through your room. khee hee...

"my dear, i assure you-- nothing would stop me from indulging in such pleasures. a sore back means nothing in comparison."

he begins to shift underneath you in an attempt to roll over, but your hand pushing one of his shoulders back down into the mattress renders him still. he lifts his head, question poised on his tongue, but your lips meet his in a quick kiss before he can ask why you've stopped him.

"maybe it would be best if you laid back and let me take care of you?" you murmur, soft and suggestive. the hand that had his shoulder pinned wanders up to push the hair off the back of his neck, where your lips press another warm kiss against his skin.

lilia thinks leaving the house without his back brace was the best decision he's made all day.

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 ❀

#i need him so bad #the thirst crept up on me while i was writing this and for that i might write a smutty part 2? maybe? we'll see #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #twst #twst college au #twst x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #twst lilia x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #shhh i'm still figuring out tags on this blog

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amphitriteswife · 5 months ago

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💚marry me!💜

For @rorlokiswifey

Sigyn mentioned in this post is from @mizz-sea-nymph

Lil angsty but it gonna be okii

Tagging: @praisethesuuun @nicasdreamer @swallowtail-lotus @tinyy-tea-cup @jonquilclegane

Walking up the steps of Valhalla you tried your best to ignore the Nordic god floating above you. He had been pestering you for some years now. Why? Because he proposed, after he only knew you for 1 month. His words were that he could already sense you were the one. Ofcourse that was a lie and he immediately went to the fates to see if you would be his partner. Typical of Loki. ‘Comeeee ooonnnnn~’ Loki whined at you, still floating and following you even if he was supposed to attend the meeting with the other gods. You ignored his whining and finished walking the steps, entering the green house. He just sulked and closed his eyes, murmuring to himself.

In the green house you searched for some flowers you had to attend to on request of Idunn, who also needed to attend the meeting that Loki skipped. Wondering why you couldn’t hear the exaggerated whines and complaints of the trickster god you turned to find him outside the house still floating and murmuring with his eyes closed, he was floating with his face turned to the sky and his hands behind his head. His hair messy because of all the turning and moving. However, he wasn’t looking at where ye was floating and he was getting closer and closer to the glass. As a sign to hopefully make him aware of what he was doing, you ticked on the glass. But he was too caught up in his childish sulking to realize and then bumped his head into the glass which resulted in him falling to the ground on his back with a loud ‘Thump’ and a breathy but screeching ‘OUCH!’

This made you burst out laughing. It’s such a Loki thing to do that would never happen to anyone else which only made it even funnier. ‘H-HEY! IT’S NOT FUNNY! DON’T LAUGH AT YOUR FIANCE!’ Loki spurted out, embarrassment mixed with irritation and a pinch of humiliation. He quickly got up and clenched his hands when you still laughed at him, feeling more humiliated now but also kind of relieved he was able to make you laugh after you ignored him. ‘I’m not your fiancé, Loki.’ You told him a clearly. You hadn’t even accepted his proposal. Not that you would if you’ll be honest, but you’re not going to tell him that. Loki seemed a bit disheartened by your answer. It was no surprise that he really wanted to be with you, but he hated getting rejected like this. It hurt. And hurt is not something he experienced at often which only confused him and the way he should handle his feelings.

‘…why not, Siggy?’ He asked you a little more seriously now, trying to mask his disheartened and difficult acceptance. He isn’t one to take no for an answer and would push until he gets what he wants. That’s how he is and always had been. Though despite the mixed feelings of being married to him you couldn’t deny that the nickname he gave you was cute. ‘Well we don’t know each other that well, and you proposed to me 1 months after we knew each other. It’s all just so fast.’ Loki’s expression turned a little solemn at your words, but at the same time it also made him thought for a moment. Is he really pushing to hard? But he’s certain you’re the only one for him? Are you going to reject him? No! No way! It’ll be humiliating. Perhaps he should just play it as a long lasting prank… but it’s no secret that he does love you though. The scenarios in his head, the way he wanted to know more about you. He played it off as a crush before. But it’s so much more than that.

You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for saying that. He looked so sad… ‘come here.’ You said opening your arms for a hug, this seemed to make him feel a little better as he walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your middle, his head was on your shoulder and he seemed to still be deep in thought. Even though his body was bent because of the hug, you could see his muscular shoulder a little slumped down. It was kind of amusing that he assumed you didn’t like him just because you refused the proposal. It didn’t mean you didn’t love him, just that you didn’t want to marry. ‘You do realize that i’d rather be your girlfriend first than actually marrying right away right?’ You asked him patting his back, this made him a bit stunned… you wanted to his girlfriend…you. Wanted to be his. His girlfriend. GIRLFRIEND?!!! His expression turned into one of happiness and excitement, but before he could say anything he choked on his own spit which caused you to laugh.

‘So…you’re my girlfriend now?’ Loki asked you, seemingly still needing time to process it. He did have a smile on his face and hugged you tightly. He seemed very happy, his cheeks slightly red and he seemed a little flustered. ‘Well, yeah! You’re cool with that?’ You asked him patting his back as he hugged you even more and placed a kiss on your cheek. ‘YIPPEE’

•

Thank you for reading! 🩵🤍

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #snv #ror #ror loki #snv loki #ror loki x reader #snv loki x reader #loki #female reader #writers of tumblr #writblr #record of ragnarok loki

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dreamerimpossible · 1 month ago

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Lonely days (Willy Wonka x reader)

Nobody actually asked me for this and I don't even know if there are people still interested in this man. But hey, you don't choose your inspiration.

Summary: An accusation puts your relationship with Willy Wonka to the test, revealing the difficulties of being with a man who seems difficult to understand.

Warnings: Wonka before Charlie's visit to the factory, complicated relationships, angst, bittersweet ending, dependent reader.

On a day when Willy Wonka’s factory accepted workers other than Oompa Loompas, it was a particularly rough afternoon, and all Wonka did for you was make it worse. You were calm, minding your own business, until his imposing figure stood behind you. You had gotten chills just by seeing his shadow. You could feel his distrustful attitude and could even guess the scathing words that would come out of his mouth.

He was a decent partner, yes. But he was distrustful and paranoid. And at times, hard to understand and isolated. You sighed. Today was one of those days when he would bring out the worst in him. You turned around and looked him in the eyes. You hadn’t been wrong; he was upset. And his eyes only showed emptiness, as if your emotions and feelings for him were far from reaching him.

“There you were…” He said quickly, adjusting his gloves and looking away uncomfortably. “You know what happens when you share my recipes with the world, honey? You could break my heart," he rambled between stutters and an exaggerated movement of his hands.

Within his peculiar way of expressing emotions, it was noticeable that he was having a negative emotion, but you didn't know what it was. It was difficult to read. Your explanations got stuck in your throat. Tears threatened to come out, making your eyes sting unbearably. You felt small under the gaze of Wonka and two Oompa Loompas, who watched you with their common expression of impassivity. At that moment, there was absolutely no one who could defend you. He was all you had. Your hands began to tremble slightly, and your body felt weak; you experienced small dizziness that you handled by closing your eyes for a few seconds and trying to manage your own self-control. However, you seemed to be lost.

You shook your head, it being the only action you could do despite your state of shock from the accusations received. He watched you; deep down, he just wanted it to be a lie. He expected anything from you, any excuse, any comment, but nothing came out of your mouth. It made him adjust his hat nervously, a subtle indication that he couldn’t deal with his emotions.

“You…” Wonka said simply, his eyes widening, like when he remembered something deeply hopeless from his past, finding himself completely unable to move. He was thinking too much; he knew when he saw you trying to look inside him and his thoughts, so with a start and an exaggerated shake of his head, he changed his tone of voice to a slightly innocent one. “The stay in my factory is limited, darling, you know, huh?” He decided imminently, ready to walk away from you, ending the relationship.

“No!” You screamed, shaking your head multiple times, kneeling in front of him, almost as if your body really dominated your actions. “I didn’t do it, you know that.”

Wonka stared at you from his position, with a raised eyebrow and an unconvinced face. He rolled his eyes and shook his head with a certain grace, accompanying it with his index finger, which he moved from side to side.

“Not really, who could know?” He shrugged, with a playful and nervous laugh.

Wonka turned around and left you, kneeling on the floor, with all your explanations still struggling to come out. Until there was silence, absolute silence. You looked at the floor; you wouldn’t know what to do now or where to go; he was your only refuge. That’s why it was impossible for you to dare to betray him. You cried, remembering everything you left behind to be with Wonka. None of this made sense without him; all his actions towards you kept you tied to him in the moments when he made you feel part of his world. Now, he had abruptly stripped you of him, without giving you a chance to explain yourself. Suddenly, the factory was too big for you, so lonely, mechanical.

You had taken too long to pack your things, because there were too many of them, from clothes whose cost you could never imagine to certain accessories made of luxurious materials. All bought by him. When you were about to seal your fate at his side, walking slowly through that place that was once your home, you had seen Oompa Loompas still questioning certain workers. This made you understand that Wonka was still looking for answers; you liked to think it was because he didn't want to think it was you, but you had to accept that you had no idea. You knew nothing about the reason for his actions. Before they opened the main door of the factory, you were informed, as fleetingly as your expulsion, that it was known that the traitor was one of his workers and not you. It was quick and convenient. But you clung to that discovery, as if your life depended on it. Your body reacted on its own, throwing away the suitcases carefully packed hours ago.

Wonka had made a mistake and would never be there to apologize. Although you always knew what you were getting into when you paired up with him. Not knowing what to do, feeling lost as you still don’t know your fate, Wonka informs you that Willy Wonka’s factory is closing down to all non-Oompa Loompa workers, firing them all on the same day. You being the only exception. You hesitated whether to stay or leave anyway, but the way your soul returned to your body knowing that Wonka no longer thought ill of you spoke for itself. Being away from him was unbearable; it left you with an indescribable feeling of weakness. That’s why you decided to stay, trying to understand the trust issues that could surround him. Knowing that there would be an explanation for his behavior that was beyond your understanding, but that, if it were revealed to you, could make you change your mind.

From afar, Wonka watches you seriously, with an indecipherable and thoughtful face. Nervous movements of his fingers, as if he wanted to understand a feeling he couldn’t name. But, after that, he left your sight as quickly as he had come.

After a few days, when he stood next to you to enjoy an improvised song by the Oompa Loompas while dancing in place, laughing to himself at the spectacle he was seeing, he took a moment to look at you, keeping his eyes on you for a few seconds with some discomfort before restarting his dance. At that moment you immediately realized that this would be the only hint of an apology you would receive. Perhaps, for the first time, he had shown you something intimate about himself, even if it was insufficient. And although you could never fully understand it, you understood that it was his way of reconciling.

#wonka x reader #willy wonka x reader #willy Wonka x you #willy wonka #wonka movie #wonka 2005

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broshot · 2 years ago

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"dance with me" pt. 2

part 1, mitsuya and ran

slow dancing with them part two!!! contains just kazutora hanemiya because his part got longer than expected cw/tw: FLUFF, all characters are of age, kissing, pet names, confession, you're his best friend, reader is shorter than kazutora,

english isn't my first language sorry for bad writing

KAZUTORA HANEMIYA

"Can we leave this party?" Kazutora whispers to you as soon as your friend leaves. He's seen at least 20 of your friends (he's exaggerating) come up to you and he's tired. Social situations aren't his favorite.

"Already? We've been here for only.." you start as you open your phone to check the time. It's been two hours. "Oh. I'm so sorry 'Tora, I didn't realize the time. We'll leave as soon as possible."

But he doesn't believe it as another one of your friends comes up to you with a smile on their face.

So he does something he's sure he'll regret later. He takes your hand and leads you away from your friend. He's glad he knows the building when he walks into a long hall with many doors. If he didn't know the place, he would already be lost. He opens one of the doors and pulls you into a big room. He's looking at you.

"Kazutora, what the hell are you doing? I was talking to my friend!"

He sighs, turning around and leaving you behind him confused. This gives you time to look around and process where you are. The room is big, and has a tall ceiling; it's at least eight meters tall, probably more. The floor is shiny, and the night lights coming from the windows are painting shadows on it.

"Do you hear them?" Kazutora suddenly asks. "The people, I mean. The people and the music."

You nod. It's hard not to hear them, in fact, you think the sounds might be coming from the room that's under you two.

"They're slow dancing." He informs you. You only hum in answer.

Both of you stay quiet for a moment. He wants to ask you something, it's obvious from the way he's fiddling his fingers and stealing quick glances at you. You've known him for long enough to recognize what his behavior means.

"What's up?" You ask, encouraging him to tell you what he's thinking about.

"I just.." he's quiet, clearly thinking about his next words. "Please dance with me."

You're taken aback from the words leaving his mouth, and you're quiet for longer than three seconds which makes him nervous.

"I'm sorry, I know it was a weird thing to say, friends aren't supposed to slow dance in a room with just two of them alone." He says and laughs nervously. You shake your head, smiling.

"Yes, mister, you may have this dance." You tease and he smiles, clearly relieved.

He walks closer to you, reaching out his hand, which you gladly take.

He pulls you close to his chest, laying one hand on your waist.

"Hi." He breathes out.

"Hi." You answer.

Kazutora starts leading the dance, swaying along the rhythm of the music. His heart is beating fast and he's afraid you might hear or feel it. Suddenly, you lay your head against his chest and he feels your warm breath tickle his neck.

He feels his cheeks heat up. He's certain you'll hear his heart beating now.

Kazutora looks down at you, smiling.

"I like this," you mutter, referring to the dance.

"Me too," he says.

You take a half-step away from him and he twirls you around, his hands landing on your waist.

"May I kiss you?" He whispers to your surprise. You're not quiet for long this time, instantly whispering "yes".

He moves one hand from your waist to your cheek, pulling you closer.

He presses his lips on yours, relaxing into your touch.

His lips feel soft on yours. You're moving your lips in sync with his. It's almost as if your lips were made for each other, and even though it's just your first kiss together, it feels like you've kissed him a thousand times before. Kissing him feels natural.

He's caressing your cheek with his thumb as you part from the kiss. He lets out a soft laugh and your heart is melting, he's adorable.

"I love you so much," he says as he presses his forehead against yours. You both freeze.

He just confessed his love for you. He takes two steps back, letting go of you.

"I'm- really sorry." He stutters, panic filling his eyes. "I know you don't like me back, we're just friends and I don't want to ruin it by-" You cut his blabbering off with a soft kiss on his lips.

"Kazutora, I love you too. I always have." You confess, smiling.

Panic leaves his eyes and he looks relieved. "Thank God," he sighs.

"I've loved you ever since we first met, that was first day of pre-school, wasn't it?" He mumbles softly, pulling you closer by your waist again. He presses another kiss on your lips.

You just stay there like that for a while, holding each other.

"Can we leave this party now?" Kazutora asks a few minutes later, making you laugh.

"Definitely, I don't want to stay here any longer. Your place or mine?"

♡♡♡

this is hmmmmm idk if I like it or not

please recommend characters for part 3, I'm lost

MASTERLIST

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geralt-of-baevia · 2 years ago

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Begin Again

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Summary: When Penny starts working at AFC Richmond as their new head photographer, she catches the eye of a certain mustached, happy-go-lucky, head coach of the team. But can their spark endure through the season's pressures and the demons of their past?

Pairing: Ted Lasso x OFC (Penny Fletcher)

Word count: 2k

Warnings: None…yet! Just some fluffy fun.

A/N: So, this lady here is oBSESSED with Ted Lasso and this idea came to me (because I am also a photographer and I'm going to live vicariously through Penny 😝) and it's just snowballed into so many ideas and I love these characters. That's all. 💛

Beta: Thank you to @midnightswithdearkatytspb for proofreading this and helping motivate me to finish this! This story wouldn't happen without you!

Tag List: Let me know if you want to be tagged for updates!

Just breathe, just breathe. It’s just a job.

As I walked down the road to the pitch, I could feel my heart making its way up into my throat while my stomach twisted into devilish knots. I swallowed hard and figideted with straps on my camera bag, my stomach all the while knotting harder.

“Just breathe, just breathe. It’s just a job,” I said to myself outloud this time. I had been telling myself this since last night when the Sunday Scaries began. With one more deep breath I walked into the parking lot, where I thankfully saw my uncle. Never had I been so happy to see him.

“Uncle Leslie!” I yipped. He snapped around to me, a large grin growing on his round face at the sight of me.

“Poppet! So glad you’re here! Come! Come!” He motioned me over, giving me a warm embrace once I made my way across the parking lot to him. I think he could sense my nerves by the way he held onto the hug a little longer than me.

“Are you terribly nervous?” he asked, holding me by the shoulder with his free hand. I nodded.

“You have no idea. This is my first like, truly professional gig. I mean, I’ve never shot anything on this level as a proper job. What if I fuck it up?” I asked, giving him an uncertain face.

“Then we’ll fire you,” he told me nonchalantly. My eyes widened at his words and he frowned.

“Oh poppet, I was just kidding,” he said, bringing me into another fatherly embrace, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “You’re going to do amazing. You are very good at what you do. That’s why Rebecca hired you.”

“It’s not just because you’re my uncle and you gave her my resume and portfolio yourself?” I asked, muffled into the lapel of his brown suit. He laughed, pulling me again to arm's length.

“Honey, the fact that I’m your uncle has nothing to do with you getting this job. Alright, maybe a little,” he said, giving me a scrunched up face. I mimicked him, letting out a heavy over exaggerated sigh.

“You are an incredibly talented photographer, that’s the reason I recommended you for this job. You’re going to smash this, poppet. Now, should I take you up to meet your new boss?” I nodded.

After navigating the clubhouse, we made it to Ms. Welton’s office. I watched as my uncle rapped his knuckles on the door, and after half a moment a woman’s voice told us to come in. My uncle gave me a thumbs up and a reassuring smile before opening the door.

“Good morning!” he said chipperly as we entered the office. I followed behind just slightly.

Rebecca Welton was as gorgeous in person as she was in the photos I’d seen of her. She held a presence in the room that I coveted for. And god damn it if I didn’t want to photograph her, she was so striking. I decided to focus on that for the time being, instead of my nerves.

“Oh! Good morning, Higgins! Is that our new photographer behind you there?” she asked, standing from her seat behind a large, wooden desk. A big grin spread across her lipglossed lips.

“Yes it is-”

“Knock, knock!”

I turned around to see the infamous mustached coach of Richmond walk into the room, a small pink box in his hands. His eyes got wide as they met mine, realizing he was interrupting something.

“Oh I’m sorry, folks. I didn’t realize-”

“I’ll stop you right there, Ted. Higgins was just about to introduce me to his niece, and our new photographer, Samantha,” Rebecca told Ted as she made her way around the front of her desk, sitting on just the edge.

“Well, hot diggity dog! You mean to tell me we’re going to have two Higginses working here? I didn’t think that was a possibility and now that it’s possible, I don’t want it any other way,” Ted rambled out. I giggled a little at his words, and he seemed to almost blush at my reaction.

“Yes, it’s very nice to meet you Ms. Welton,” I said, putting my hand out. I turned next to Coach Lasso, extending my hand to him. “And very nice to meet you Coach Lasso.”

“Oh we don’t need the formalities around here, just call me Ted. And speaking of formalities, do you go by Sam?” he started, and I had a hunch I knew where he was going with this. “Because if you do, we already have one Sam here and that will just get so gosh darn confusing. So, you have two other options.”

“Oh?” I asked, it coming out of my mouth before I could stop it. He smirked at me.

“Man and Tha. I mean, they are the only other options with a name like Samantha,” he jested.

“Well, lucky for all of you,” I said, also turning to address Ms. Welton, “I go by my middle name.”

“Oh yes, I probably should have told you that, Rebecca,” Uncle Leslie said in a deadpan tone, his face suddenly realizing he did not let anyone know that information.

“It’s okay Uncle Leslie. But I go by Penny-”

“LANE?!” The sheer volume and excitement that came out of Ted caused the other three of us in the room all to jump in tandem, Ms. Welton clutching her chest. I laughed, my heart still beating quickly in my chest.

“Actually, it’s funny you say that because that is where my name comes from.”

“No it is not,” he blurted out, a big stupid grin plastered on his face.

“It is! When I was born, my parents didn’t have a middle name picked out for me for ages, and my second day in hospital apparently I “smiled” for the first time when Penny Lane came on the radio. The nurses told my parents it was just gas, but they decided to look through rose colored glasses and think I smiled. So, Penelope became my middle name.”

Ted looked at me with the largest grin plastered on his face, and out of the corner of my eye I could see my uncle and Ms. Welton giving each other a knowing look.

“Yes yes, that’s a lovely story Penny, but I’m terribly sorry and I must kick you out now. I have a phone meeting starting in ten minutes and I’d like to get myself properly prepared,” Ms. Welton interjected, going back around her desk and sitting down in her chair.

“Like a pot roast! MmmmMmm! Man oh man, I sure would love myself a properly prepared pot roast right about now. Like one of those ones that have the potatoes and carrots-”

“TED!” I jumped again as Ms. Welton broke Ted’s concentration.

“Sorry, boss. I will just leave these here for you,” he said, walking over and setting the pink box down in front of her. She excitedly clapped her hands together before picking up the box and inhaling deeply, her face relaxing into a small smile.

“Thank you, Ted,” she said with a nod before turning her attention back to me, “Oh Penny, I will come find you later. I need to iron out some final details with you regarding a photoshoot.”

“That sounds excellent, Ms. Welton,” I said, giving her a big grin. She met my smile with her own, melting away some of my nerves.

“I’m very looking forward to you being here, Penny,” she said as the three of us exited her office and went into the hallway.

“Would you like to come down and meet the team? I’d be happy to introduce you,” Ted offered.

“That would be lovely. But I think my Uncle Leslie was going to give me a tour-”

“A tour that can wait!” my uncle interjected happily, “Go meet your new art subjects!”

Ted and I looked at each other, holding each others gaze for a moment before he left out a happy sigh.

“Well alright, then let’s get to it!” he said excitedly, nudging his head in the way we were supposed to go.

“After you Coach,” I said, gesturing in the same way. As we made our way down the hallway, I mentally kicked myself. “I mean, Ted. Sorry.”

“No no, that’s okay. You can call me Coach, Ted, T-Dawg, whatever you like. As long as it’s not wanker,” he jested with a short laugh.

“Oh yes, wanker is indeed a good one. But I promise I won’t call you that. I think I’ve only ever called two men in my life wanker and really meant it. I don’t see you being my third, T-Dawg,” I said, giving him a coy smirk. He shook his head with another laugh.

“Oh Penny, I think you’re going to be a grand addition to this team.”

“Addition to the team?” I asked, an eyebrow raising at him.

“Well, yeah. Everyone here at Richmond is part of the team, you included,” he said, giving me a friendly wink. I felt my heart make its way to my throat, but this time I was leaning towards it not being from nerves.

“Th-that’s very sweet, Ted,” I said, giving him another smile.

I followed Ted into what I assumed to be the coaches office. Inside I recognized Coach Beard sitting at a desk and Roy Kent leaning against a metal filing cabinet.

“Hey guys! This is-”

“Penny Fletcher. I looked at your social media, you’re a phenomenal photographer. Those photos you took at the World Cup?” Coach Beard nodded an approving nod.

“Wait, you took photos at the World Cup?” Roy interjected gruffly before I could reply.

I felt my cheeks flush red.

“Oh, yeah I did. I entered a lottery for amateur photographers to get photo passes and work with a journalist from your country. I just happened to be one of the lucky three that won,” I explained. Coach Beard nodded again, looking down at his phone as he typed away at it.

“You guys have to see the shots. They are far beyond superb in my opinion,” he said, holding his phone out to the room.

Ted clapped his hands before rubbing his palms together in excitement. On the screen was one of my photos, a mid air action shot where the player was completely horizontal after head butting a goal.

“Woo-wee! Show me the goods!”

Ted and Roy hurriedly moved up from their spots and got closer to Beard’s phone to have a look.

I watched as Ted’s eyes lit up at the photo, pointing to the screen.

“Is there a direction I can swipe on this to see potentially more incredible photos, Beard?”

“To the left.”

Ted began singing as he swiped through the photos. “To the left, to the left, everything you-”

“-own in the box to the left…” I quietly sang along with him. Apparently, it was louder than I had intended because Ted looked over at me from the phone and just grinned.

My heart rose into my throat again.

“So what kind of photos are you going to be taking of the team exactly? Just action shots like these?” Roy asked, taking his place back against the filing cabinet.

“Well, I mean yes. But I’m also going to be doing all of your portraits and team photos as well.”

“All of our portraits?” Roy implored, furrowing his already permanently furrowed brow. I couldn’t help but giggle at his face, quickly putting up a hand to cover it.

“Oh god I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” I said, “but when you do that with your eyebrows you look like a proper Jim Henson Muppet.”

Roy growled low in his throat, his expression not changing, Ted and Beard trying to stifle their giggles at my comment.

“And yes, all of your portraits. Well, I guess you could also call them headshots if you’d like. But something already tells me you guys are familiar with a different kind of headshot,” I jested, awkwardly pointing fingers into the room. I immediately mentally kicked myself.

“Penny?” Beard asked, getting my attention.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re going to fit in here great.”

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso x ofc #theodore lasso #rebecca welton #leslie higgins #ted lasso fluff

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twigg96 · 2 years ago

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Hi! I really love your metalocalypse headcanons (I'm literally ALWAYS starved for metalocalypse content). If you haven't already answered something along these lines, would it be alright to ask for headcanons about the band + Charles and Magnus trying to court a really shy S/O?

Hi Anon!! Omg thank you so much this is such a cute idea I love it ❤️❤️🥺🥺 yes I’ll definitely write some HCs for you. I hope you like them!!

Nathan is a big old Himbo who despite all attempts, can not read emotional cues to save his life. Despite what everyone says, he’s a big soft teddy bear on the inside. Now… that doesn’t mean he doesn’t look like a terrifying meathead on the outside to any strangers out there. Because… he does. When he first met his future partner at the time he was certain he had broken them. They had stared at him like a deer in the headlights, glancing between his intimidating facial expression and his bulky size. Nathan took their reaction to be a pure rejection and sulked on the couch eating chips for the rest of the party glaring or growling at them every time he caught them staring too long at him. It wasn’t until several days later when Skwisgaar came to tease him about the “cuties that ams havingks a little baby's crush” that he realized that they might have been staring for a totally different reason. But still, he mulled on the thought for a long time. Any time they crossed paths and they ran away or simply stared he felt like he repelled them not attracted them. It confused him to the end but also endlessly piqued his interest. He tried talking to them every day despite his anxiety that Skwisgaar was fucking with him, smiling at their tiny squeaks when he first started a conversation. He felt so prideful when he got them to open up and say a few words. Then eventually full sentences and conversations. He doesn’t always understand why they’re so shy. They’re amazing and perfect in his mind. It wasn’t long before he felt completely enamored, but he could never tell what they were thinking, which threw him for a loop. Going to his dad for advice, he realized that he just needed to trust his gut. On the next day when he saw his S/O, they took a walk together through the halls of Mordhaus. Nathan talked about the ocean and how brutal it was before stopping abruptly. “Do you like… want to go to the ocean… with me one day?”

Pickles could tell his partner was shy from the moment they met. He tried his hardest to accommodate them. And for the most part, he was successful. He helped them out of the stressful party they were in to slip away for a moment to help them take a breath. He didn’t talk to them much just introduced himself and made his presence feel safe. He knew how hard it was to trust people who didn’t feel that way. They stayed in the courtyard of Mordhaus simply existing. Pickles kept an eye on his future S/O, making sure they were comfortable in the cool fall air. He gave them his scarf drumming up a simple conversation that was easy to follow. He didn't make them respond, instead, he simply told them stories about the time he spent in Snakes and gave them a little air tutorial on the drums making them laugh and giggle at his exaggerated movements. After the party Pickles and his future partner kept in contact via text and social media. Once they felt comfortable enough his S/O even ventured to call him once they had gained the confidence to. However, Pickles couldn't stop himself from flirting with them despite the way they'd squeal and deny every compliment he gave them. "Ya know... I do love ya right?" He asked one day while toying with their hair. Watching their face turn bright red they sat in silence for a moment as they simply smiled back in response. "It's ok... you don't need to tell me it back er nothin' yet... I just need you to know."

Murderface had truthfully believed from the bottom of his heart that his future partner was playing a game with him. He believed that they were just "hard to get." So instead of doing the right thing and providing space for his S/O. He chased them RELENTLESSLY. It got so bad that he started Facebook stalking them. Messaging them on various accounts all in an effort to try and gain their attention while telling everyone. "Damn this person is Scheriously into me." It worked however to get his partner out of their shell over time as their messages stopped being "M: Hey bb wyu2?" to "M: Tell me more about (thing S/O is seriously passionate about). I know there had been a problem with something the last we talked." Eventually, his S/O agreed to meet him in person for a date. The problem... he had been using an alt with a photoshopped photo of himself with a 10-pack of abs. William debated on cancelling on his shy S/O but knew that would only shatter their trust in him more. So on the day of the date, he arrived, in a corset. His S/O nearly dropped their Taco Bell when they first saw him, squashing out the sides of his corset. Placing their food down on a table they had to stop themselves from peeing themselves laughing before pulling Murderface down for a kiss. “You’re perfect no matter what. I care about YOU. Ya big silly.”

Toki thought it was the funniest thing in the entire world that his crush was shy. He loved their pink blush and the way they clammed up when they got flustered. He met them at a meet and greet. But it was love at first sight for him. Writing his number onto a slip of paper he handed it to the hottie as they turned to leave winking cheekily and giggling as they squeaked and ran away. Weeks passed while Toki swooned over the "one who got away". Nathan simply ignored it altogether, eating his chips and turning the volume up higher on the television. Murderface tried to avoid Toki when he was all swoony, but he always got caught up in some pity party. Pickles would try to distract Toki for as long as possible before pawning him off on someone else. Normally this person was Skwisgaar who could handle him for much longer than the others. However, Charles had more than enough of Toki's behavior and invited Toki's crush over himself for "a short one-on-one interview with Toki." The guitarist was thrilled to see them again, inviting them to do fun things like build model planes and play video games. The day quickly turned into a date and Toki found himself with much more than just their number by the end of the night.

Skwisgaar is delicately tactful when he meets his future partner. He can tell they feel uncomfortable with his normal grand personality so, he simply tones it down. He's careful with his words, watching for any progress and cursing the world when his bandmates were too loud or did things that obviously scared his S/O back into their shell. It wasn't until the next they met that they had a moment alone. Skwisgaar again focused deeply on making his S/O feel comfortable in their environment and more importantly with him. Eventually Skwisgaar started bringing his S/O to events with him... as a guest of course. He simply knew they'd attend anyway so why not make sure they were comfortable from the start? At one gala in particular, the pair ducked outside for fresh air when the crowd started to be too much even for him. The music was beautifully drifting through the windows as they walked around the gardens, hand in hand. "Do you... want to dance?" His partner asked sweetly looking up at him in the moonlight, the swede had never seen a more gorgeous sight. Together they danced at the center of the garden, giving each other butterfly kisses and giggling as their lips touched gently.

Charles was extremely dense when his partner showed any interest in him at all. He had a lot going on... or at least that was his excuse. Friends of his S/O had to literally tell him straight to his face about their crush before he'd even acknowledge it. But he still refused to act until they made the first move. Which was like agony to them, but was important for Charles to determine whether he could truly trust them or not. But once they came forward and told him their true feelings, he was the most protective boyfriend anyone could ask for. He stood up for his partner in any situation and gave them a voice whenever they felt they had none. He loved them wholly and truly from day one.

Magnus doesn't do shy. When he finds his S/O staring at him at the supermarket one day he becomes extremely paranoid that someone was going to try and kill him again. So he waits outside the doors and ambushes them, scaring the living daylights out of them. This doesn't stop the staring problem however... as a matter of fact it made it worse. Magnus tried everything to make it stop. He tried threatening them. He tried physically pinning them to the wall and demanding they stop. He tried being "nice" in a scary way. All of which seemed to cause the staring to increase and become weird... Now they stared at him as if they wanted to fuck him. Which... he wouldn't mind if he didn't think they were a Dethklok Spy. One day Magnus snapped when he found his S/O creeping on him from around the corner of the ally way following him home. He pinned them to the wall and demanded why they were following him. Let me tell you he was not expecting "Because I want to be railed into submission." to be the answer they gave but by god it was damned good to hear.

#Thank you so much for the ask!#thank you anon #asks are always open #metalocaplyse #metalocalypse headcanon #imagine metalocalypse #dethklok #shy reader #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #william murderface #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #charles foster offdensen #magnus hammersmith

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justletmewritepls · 2 months ago

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Memories (Tokyo Revengers Mikey x Reader)

Chapter 6

The phone call comes in late in the afternoon, and I hesitate for a long moment before answering. I know who it is before I even check the caller ID. My heart beats a little faster, not out of excitement, but something else—something more complicated.

I put the phone to my ear, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. "Hello?"

"Hey," Mikey’s voice comes through, as easy and casual as ever, but there’s a trace of something else behind it—a certain tension I’ve come to recognize as Mikey trying not to sound too eager. "It’s Mikey."

"I figured," I reply, trying to keep things light, but it’s hard when all I can think about is how his name brings back memories I’ve tried to bury. "What’s up?"

There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, and I can almost feel him shifting his weight on the other end of the line. "I handled things with Kiyomasa. Takemichi’s safe. Don’t worry about him anymore."

A slight frown tugs at my lips, but I keep my tone steady. "That’s... good to hear. I didn’t want him getting hurt."

"Yeah, I know. It’s a relief," Mikey continues, his voice softening, "And, uh... I talked to Takemichi. He seems... nice."

I don’t know what stings more—the fact that he’s suddenly getting close with Takemichi, or the fact that he’s so casual about it. The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth, and I bite my lip to keep from saying something sharp.

"I see," I murmur, my fingers tightening around the phone. I hate how something inside me feels unsettled, like an old wound reopening. "You really put in the effort, huh?"

There’s a noticeable silence, and I can almost picture Mikey scratching the back of his head, unsure of how to read my tone. He doesn’t respond immediately, but I hear a soft sigh on the other end.

"Yeah," he says, a little sheepish. "I guess I did. It’s been... weird. But, uh, Takemichi’s not bad. Actually kind of cool. I can see why you care about him so much."

I can’t help the slight snort that escapes my lips. "So now you’re friends with him too, huh? Trying to steal my friends now?"

Mikey laughs, a small chuckle that seems to soften the tension in the air, though I can still hear the underlying discomfort. "Steal your friends? Nah. Just... trying to make sure things don’t get out of hand. Besides, now you owe me, remember?"

I exhale sharply, a short, almost bitter laugh escaping my mouth. "You’re really gonna use that as leverage, huh? I get it, Mikey. You’re petty."

He laughs again, and I can hear the hint of a smirk in his voice. "Yeah, maybe a little. But hey, you owe me a favor. You don’t want to leave a guy hanging, do you? Come see me."

I let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling my eyes even though I know he can’t see it. "Fine. I’ll meet up with you. But only because you’re a pain in the ass."

"Great!" Mikey’s voice brightens at once, the familiar energy of childhood Mikey coming through. "How about tonight? We can catch up, maybe grab something to eat?"

I hesitate for a moment, but something about the way he says it pulls at me, like a magnet drawing me back to a time when things were simpler. "I’ll meet you at the park, then. I’m not in the mood to go anywhere fancy."

"Sure thing. I’ll be there."

Before I hang up, I hesitate, and there’s a shift in my voice. "Mikey... thanks. For... handling Kiyomasa. Really."

There’s a quiet moment on the other end, as though he’s searching for the right words, and then—"I promised, didn’t I? It’s no big deal."

I hear him smile through the phone, and for a moment, I remember how it used to feel, all those years ago, when things were simple and uncomplicated.

"Yeah," I say softly. "It’s really no big deal."

---

Later that evening, I make my way to the park, the night air cool against my skin. I spot Mikey leaning against a bench, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp as always. He straightens up when he sees me, his usual carefree smile tugging at his lips.

"Hey," he greets me casually, but there’s a warmth to his voice that makes me pause. He steps forward, hands in his pockets. "You look good."

"That’s rich coming from you," I tease, crossing my arms. "You haven’t changed a bit."

Mikey shrugs, that ever-present grin on his face. "I’m still the same Mikey you knew."

I laugh, though it’s softer this time. "Yeah, I guess so."

There’s a brief silence between us, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Neither of us really wants to address the elephant in the room—the awkwardness, the time lost, the things that were left unsaid. Instead, we fall back into an old rhythm, the teasing, the playful jabs, as though we were kids again.

For a moment, it almost feels like we’re that carefree pair of childhood friends again—before everything changed, before the tragedy, before the distance.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers mikey #mikey x reader #manjiro sano x reader #manjiro sano

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watcherintheweyr · 9 months ago

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...

Anyways have a snippet of my original writing maybe

----

Aftermath of torture cw

Suicidal ideation tw

Story: Debts

——

Striding into his rooms, Midian wishes that his movements were lined with his usual grace. In actuality, one shaking hand against the wall is the only thing keeping him upright. Striding, in truth, was likely an exaggeration, when in truth what he does is more like desperately stagger.

Striding implies a certain degree of control. Of intent and grace. Midian has intent in spades, in the moment, but near to none of the rest.

His back is lines burning pain, layered so thickly over one another that he truly wonders if there’s any skin left atop the bloodied flesh- each brush of the shirt over top of the marks is a special sort of hell. His fingers twitch- his left hand against the wall is unmarred, but those of his right hand are torn at the tips from how hard he’d scrabbled at stone, trying so desperately to maintain his composure, keep hold of his own mind.

He had, of course. He always did. It was the way of things. The fact that now his body tremors from pain and exhaustion is inconsequential at best.

He fumbles with the door to his room, leaning his shoulder. against the wall whilst the uninjured hand struggles to grip- but he manages it after a too-long moment, and then slides within the room with a strangled, panicked laugh.

The door clicks shut easily behind him, and Midian lowers his head, trying to steady his breathing as the panic settles, just enough that he can think again, that he’s no longer an empty, pain and fear driven animal seeking the comfort of its’ den.

Not that this is even truly his den. He’s trapped here in the capitol until the new emperor decides that his courtiers are loyal, or kills them to make way for his new regime. Such is the way of things, and he knows better than to begin feeling safe now, just because he was released from the dungeons.

Midian cannot remember the last time that he’d felt safe. Centuries ago, it must have been.

Pain is easy enough to blame for the mistake of thinking he’s even marginally safer now, however. It takes him seconds too long to realize he isn't’ alone in his quarters, and Midian’s golden eyes fly up as he takes a pained step backwards, angry sensation spearing through his thighs and hips as the harsh - sudden- movement jars the lacerations there.

Sitting atop the ornate wooden trunk at the foot of his bed, Isidore’s broad shoulders are dimly visible in the low light. Those burning, mismatched yellow-and-green eyes stare at him, brows lowered.

In the dull light of evening with no flames in the hearth nor the wall’s braziers, he looks like a demon, come to bind Midian’s soul from him. The courtier can feel his breath freezing in his throat with something like panic burning at his eyes.

“Get out,” he hisses, venom on the words the likes of which he rarely directs upon the other. They have ever and always had clashes, Midian his sickly sweet superiority, Isidore his dark, vicious temper-

But so rarely, has Midian been so angry with the Last Dying Light.

“I have given you no key, nor have I given you leave to be here. Have you- have you been snooping in my things?” He should sound outraged- but each word is progressively harder to push past his teeth, each one feeling like a weight added atop his spine to drag him down.

Isidore would likely love that, Midian thinks, hysterical in the moment. Would love to watch Midian dragged to hell by his own accursed tongue.

“You call me the over-curious sn-snake,” he spits, unable to stop himself. “But you break into my rooms? How long have you been here?”

He can’t process that there’s something like horror in Isidore’s eyes as the larger man stares at him. When the revenant-king rises slowly from his seat, Midian staggers another step back in response. His breath saws in and out of his chest, but he feels like he’s being strangled. Still, he forces his spine straight, giving the other man his most derisive glare.

“- Midian,” Isidore murmurs than, his voice that soft rumble. Midian cannot remember a single time in the decades they’ve known and battled one another that his voice has sounded so soft. Not once.

“Do not,” he says, raising one finger and pointing at the other man as he steps closer. “Do not. Don’t you dare pretend you care.”

”Midian, you’ve been in the dungeons eight days,” Isidore hisses- and all too quickly, he’s across the room and in Midian’s space, staring down and into Midian’s face. It’s a struggle to meet his gaze, and it takes everything that Midian has not to flinch away.

Isidore’s sharp features are somehow made ever more brutal in the lightless room. His hair is only vaguely gold, like this, and his skin bears the same pallor as gold-washed marble. Midian is no short man- but Isidore is just larger. Taller, broader. Never before has that fact intimidated the half-fey, but now-

There’s fear, there, in his chest, as the Last Dying Light’s mismatched gaze pins him in place like a butterfly to a board. “Eight days,” he makes himself echo, desperate to crack the silence. “That’s actually quite helpful to know, thank you. Look, you’ve even helped me- so clearly this little visit isn’t working out the way you’d hoped. Leave, now, thank you.”

Eight days. Has it truly been so long? Nausea swells in his chest, and he makes a turn, to brush past the larger man, until a grave-cold hand catches his jaw, turning it until he’s nearly nose-to-nose with Isidore. His eyes are searching- over Midian’s face, over his body, thankfully still hidden by the silks and velvets that he’d been arrested in.

He’s as still as stone, staring at his once-ally with a burning sensation in his eyes that he tries then to blink away, quickly. Midian makes a tight, small sound in his throat, and then sways, vision losing focus.

“Midian,” Isidore’s voice murmurs- and gods, but when did Isidore’s voice become so smooth? Has he always been able to speak as such, this deep low resonance in opposition to the grinding, harsh words that Midian usually drags out of him along with that temper.

The pair of them have been at one another’s throats since the first day they’d encountered one another in the Maristide court, all those years ago. Never once has Midian heard Isidore speak so-

So bereft of malice.

Not to him.

“What are you-“ He cannot help how high his voice has gone, cannot help the tremor in it, and Isidore blinks down at him quietly, his own jaw visibly clenched.

“You need help, Midian,” he says then, terribly gentle, and Midian bares his fangs and hisses, hands shoving ineffectually at Isidore’s chest.

“Don’t you dare- don’t you dare be kind to me, Isidore of The Last Dying Light,” he snarls, despising the weakness in his voice, despising the way it shakes and that he cannot hide it. “How dare you-“

A finger covers his mouth, pausing the enraged protestation, and he nearly lunges to bite it, until the action flares the agony in his body anew and almost sends him to his knees. Isidore’s other hand hooks along his right hip, mercifully missing the lashmarks that skirt the area. The pressure and support there, along with how Isidore cups his jaw…

Shame burns in him, as he realizes it’s the only thing keeping him upright. Confusion with how soft each point of contact presses against his too-tight, aching skin.

His eyes burn anew, and desperately he tries to blink the sensation back. Still, Isidore watches him- and then slowly, he guides the wildfire-mage to the bed. “Can you lay on your stomach?”

Any breath he might have had is strangled in his throat. It takes Midian so much longer than he’d like to organize his mind to say anything. It’s a haze of fear, of pain, of anger and panic, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

This isn’t how they work. This has never been how they’ve worked. He doesn’t understand.

“- The worst damage is on my back,” he croaks finally. “But his eminence also had me kneeling in glass for a time. So my knees are in poor shape.”

Isidore inhales very, very slowly. He holds that breath for a long moment, before exhaling, just as slow. “We will address the back first. You will collapse if I am not holding you.”

“Why?” Midian grits out. “Why- why are you- you and I have both been here before. We have both been tortured by those in power before. Why are you doing this? I won’t- I’m not going to crack. I won’t give you... I don’t know what you want but I will not give it to you.”

The gilded figure blinks at him and closes his eyes a moment, brows furrowed as though now he is the one in pain. “That’s alright,” he said, finally. “I’m going to help anyways. I owe you.” A wave of his hand, and the fire in the hearth roars to life, throwing everything into warm color.

Midian closes his eyes automatically, trying to burn out the beauty of Isidore's golden hair and mismatched eyes kissed by firelight. It isn't fair, he thinks hysterically. This isn't fair.

But the realm has never cared for fair. If it did, the old emperor's head would not currently be on a spike, as Zerach Julianis sits his throne.

“You do not-,” Midian grits- but Isidore ignores him, and Midian is too exhausted, trembling too hard to fight him as he’s lowered to the bed, sinking to lay upon his stomach.

The fight goes out of him, the exhaustion winning out, and Midian tangles the fingers of his good hand into the blankets, trying to control his breathing. Isidore kneels beside the bed so that their eyes meet again, and it takes everything Midian has to meet that gaze, to focus on Isidore in the moment and not to allow the numb bliss of unconsciousness to sweep him under.

“I will clean and dress the wounds,” the revenant king says quietly. “And then I will keep watch. We will talk when you awaken.”

Midian stares at him, unable to process any of it. Nothing makes sense. Nothing makes sense.

So he nods, without a word- then turns his head to bury his face in the pillow.

Isidore’s kindness will not break him. It will not. When he wakes-

When he wakes, the game will begin anew. That is all.

That is all.

#my writing #original watchweyr workings #midian melwas #isidore of the last dying light #shrugs

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running-in-the-dark · 1 year ago

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I've got more to say on that post (tw I'm insane I don't know what to tag this as its just. mental illness man idk.)

I'm really, really glad that other people apparently really don't know what it's like to feel like that. like you're not allowed to think certain things or that thinking them makes you bad.

because fuck I wish that was me.

I find it almost impossible to talk about this but I'm trying because I've found it's really the only thing that helps a little bit - and it feels like literal torture, like. I am having to actively fight every instinct in my head to be able to type any of it.

but. just. man I just can't. sometimes I can do it, but sometimes it's like now and I get so panicked about it that all the words just fucking disappear. literally can't talk about it.

okay, I'll try a different way. so. I get extremely obsessed with fictional characters (which you know if you've ever looked at this blog because duh). obviously that means I think about them. a lot. all the time really. and it's. it is really really hard, honestly. just like. imagine having to basically check every. little. thought. to see if there's anything there that could make you a bad person.

again, can't go into any more detail because My Brain (probably should stop saying that, I guess it's like, part of the ocd tendencies I have or whatever) won't fucking let me.

so, I'm trying to work on that, and for some reason I'm doing that by writing it down instead. because then I have like, the option to go back and look at it and be like actually this is probably fine. not horrible, not the worst thing anyone has ever thought, and even if it was - no one but me is ever going to see this, so why should it even matter?

but more than anything it's like. shown me how fucking insane that is. I literally can't even write so much as like. a hug. without feeling like I'm the most disgusting piece of shit ever (lots of complicated reasons but it boils down to basically. well you're thinking about his body. and that his body would feel nice. and that is absolutely not allowed in any way). when I've said that I'm writing some insane shit I don't mean like haha, this is sooo dirty hehe :3 no guys I mean it is literally insane and mostly me literally having to write paragraphs of dialogue in which the character assures me that it's okay and I'm not horrible for thinking that and. like I'm literally writing him as if he's my fucking therapist because that's the only way I can justify it in my own head.

like, I am not exaggerating when I say that I've made myself feel like I'm physically ill from overthinking this so much. I literally felt like I had a fever because I got so extremely stressed out about it. I think that was about like. holding hands or some shit. I'm 32 fucking years old. I'm literally married (won't even get into that but fuck dude just imagine being like this and. yeah).

and the funniest part about all of that is that I feel so unbelievably ashamed about all of it that I don't think I could even mention it to a therapist or whatever. like the thought alone is so absolutely horrifying that it makes me feel like I need to be punished for it. so I just convince myself that well it can't really be OCD anyway because I don't even have compulsions anymore (even though I did, and they affected my life so much for like, 15 years at least), and well even if it could still be that even without the compulsions well it's not that bad really. I mean I don't have the issues that people with actual OCD have, it doesn't really affect me, so what if I can't think about fucking that fictional guy, imagine how much a therapist would laugh at you for thinking you should get help with that, nope your brain is just fundamentally broken (it's always been that way after all, so it can't be something like that, no you're just broken and wrong and that's why all your thoughts are bad, you're just the worst person on Earth).

I can't explain how hard it is to even like. just talk about the most mundane shit. like let's say there's a picture of The Guy and I think he looks good. it's such a struggle to let myself say that. like literally, something as fucking basic as that. literally anything that is an admission of 'hi I've thought about his face and his body and I think they look kind of nice' makes me feel like I should literally die. that's why I've been trying to say that shit as much as I can lately, with the reasoning being well if I just keep doing it and nothing horrible happens it'll get easier right? (nope it doesn't, not really)

and like, there's so much more to it than social media, obviously. like it's probably 99% my upbringing (didn't even fucking realise until very recently that a lot of it is based on religious stuff because I didn't understand that my family was even that religious. yeah I don't get it either. but there's way more than the religion aspect, just pretty much everything about my childhood and my parents and. everything). but it does play a huge part in it for me and. I don't know what to do about that and I'll probably do nothing because doing anything is hard and I'm already completely overwhelmed by everything.

yeah idk all of that came from thinking about that video too much, idk, I'm shutting up now

#literally I've talked about this with. I think exactly two people. and one is just the very basics and even that is. hard. (the other one #is - well hi you probably know I mean you.)#anyway I'm gonna go dig a hole that I can live in now because that's what I deserve for having thoughts. bye.#personal

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lyutenw · 2 years ago

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ACOD| Chapter VI

There was only Aria and the man with the different eyes. The other man, who she had learnt that his name was Kai, had gone back, somewhere where their group was all gathered together.

The man, Raven, was the leader of the gifted group, a group of people blessed by the Gods with supernatural powers. They were rumored to be the henchmen of the late king, doing his filthy work inside the city. Pallius was no beloved king, he was hated with a passion by everyone, including the gifted group.

"We didn't kill him, if that's what you want to ask." Raven broke the silence between them and smiled at her.

"I wasn't going to ask that." She countered and sped up her pace to match his.

"Where are we going?" Aria asked, trying to memorize the way back to the castle. Her time was limited inside the city, although she wanted to stay the whole night.

"Nowhere. I just want to find a silent place to talk." His eyes were clouded, and Aria was certain that he was thinking hard about what she had said. Raven hadn't asked her anything in front of Kai; instead, he had told him to go back and that he would soon join them.

"We can walk throughout the city and talk, no need for me to stray way too far." Aria suggested, hoping he would agree. She had no way to go back on her own and the fear Ellian had instilled inside her was tremendous. She could easily imagine him beheading her for not being in her room when he got back in the morning.

"I don't want anyone to hear us, but let's stay here darling." Raven stopped walking and again grabbed her to the side, this time a little more gently.

"Tell me." Aria was stuck between the tree and him; he was tall and his shoulder's broad. His built was similar to Ellian's, but they were the exact opposite in their appearance.

"I want to escape to the far village." She said in one breath.

"No way, darling, you need to go through the forest to do that." Aria could feel his hot breath on her face, sweet like fruit and rich.

"So?"

"So, you will die." Raven scoffed and finally took a step back to let Aria breathe a bit.

"What do you mean?" Aria had only heard about the forest, but she wasn't sure what was the dangerous part.

"Look, darling, that forest is the 5 witches' territory. They bring back the dead, they will send a ghost after you and claim your soul." Raven had furrowed his brows, his voice deadpan. Aria let out a laugh and rolled her eyes.

"Are you serious? Aren't you exaggerating a bit?" She smiled, but her cheerful endeavor soon fell short when she saw that he was serious.

"So, how can I reach the village?" Aria gulped, her perfect little plan falling apart before she could even put it in action.

"You can't. Only by ship, but as a runaway? Yeah, you are better off dead, hun." Raven smirked and looked at Aria, whose blood had been drained from her face. She was ready to cry, and she couldn't feel her legs. She felt the earth give way and she almost fell had there not been Raven there to catch her.

"Are you okay?" his sentence was cut off by a deep wail, one that Aria couldn't keep to herself any longer.

"I need to-" Aria cried out; her words all jumbled together.

"I need to get away from that monster." She sunk to her knees, the harsh leaves and branches digging to her skin. She touched Raven's arm and grabbed his cloak in a fist. Her tears would not stop falling, her head light.

"Please, please kill him." She begged, burying her face to his chest.

"I do not want to feel him inside me again." The words escaped her mouth before she could even think. That strange man had a way of making her feel safe, he was impossible to resist. He was warm and familiar; maybe that was his gift.

Raven shuffled uneasily; his movements robotic. He didn't know what to do with this woman crying on his chest. He could feel her warmth, her every tear. There was no way that was the same woman as the one he had seen yesterday, standing tall at her wedding.

"So, you want me to kill him and take his throne." Raven pieced everything together and sighed. It was an unreasonable request. He had known Ellian since he was younger, he was fated to be a good king to his people.

"Please, I will give you everything I have, please kill him." Aria cried out like a wounded animal.

"Darling, I cannot do that. He is Oceana's king, the one fated to rule this kingdom." Raven muttered, his voice loud enough for only her to hear.

Aria was left puzzled, her tears streaming down her cheeks. This man was useless to her if he couldn't help her escape or kill Ellian. Was her fate really the one of a child bearer? A pleasure toy?

"It's my gift, darling. I know who someone is fated to be." Raven smiled through his teeth.

"What about me then? Who will I be?" Aria looked at him through her tears, hopeful to listen to something that would put her mind at ease. Raven took a moment before he answered, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"A queen." He answered half-heartedly and looked away for the first time.

❋

Aria couldn't stop thinking about Raven. Everything about him was so comforting, there was some kind of pull, like a red thread of fate pulling her to him. His eyes were especially beautiful and the one thing she couldn't stop picturing all night long.

She tossed and turned throughout the whole night ever since she got back to the castle and into her room. The city was as vibrant as ever, even in the middle of the night when she was returning. The king's death had spread like wildfire to the people, most of them celebrating the end of the tyrant.

Aria wasn't really bothered by his death. He was just one less obstacle. The problem was Ellian and his twisted mind that only viewed her as a plaything. She couldn't wait to find a way to leave him. Raven was no good if he refused to kill him.

Her only chance was the first plan; running away. But this time the plan had to be altered so she could leave by the ship to the village and not walk there. Her next course of action was to find someone to make her fake papers so she could get a ticket.

The first birds started chirping and rays of sunlight slowly entered the room. She had forgotten to close the curtains, but even if she had it would make no difference as she was awake already. She rose from the bed and looked outside the window. It was a really beautiful view of the yard, with the many bushes and flowers.

Her mind traveled back to her childhood, when she would run around the barren yard of Celenial's castle with Zaya. She realized that she missed her, she had been her best friend throughout the years, even though they had been born as natural enemies. Aria had been the one to be born first and everyone in the castle would whisper about her since she could remember. She had also heard strange rumors of Zaya's mother, the queen, punching her stomach to give birth to Zaya after she had heard the news of Aria's mother going into labor.

Aria laughed bitterly as she remembered her name being associated with the words 'bastard princess'. She had been the first-born of the king, the daughter of a maid that he had an affair with, who died shortly after giving birth to her. Aria wondered how different her life would have been, had she just been born a kid of a peasant family in Oceana.

She backtracked from the window and tightened her robe around her. It was especially cold, maybe because it was early morning. She got out of her room and tried to search for her maids, but to no avail they were nowhere to be found. After a while, she gave up and went straight to the kitchen, her stomach rumbling.

The kitchen was quite lively for the time that it was. There were many cooks and maids all doing their part; fresh croissants and pastries, smashing fruit from the yard to make marmalades and stirring huge pots of cream to add to everything. Everything smelled delicious.

One of the maids noticed her and bowed before her.

"My queen, we are all so happy that you graced us with your presence." Everyone followed suit, leaving whatever they were doing to bow deeply.

"Please, go on with everything you are doing, I would love to taste them for breakfast." Aria smiled and everyone's mood lightened. They started working faster and more cheerfully, eager for the queen to taste their delicacies. One of the maids that was not making anything approached Aria.

"My queen, let me help you to the table." She bowed and extended her hand for Aria to follow her to the large dining area where the royal family had their every meal. She motioned Aria to sit down and quickly spread the tablecloth and placed the plates and cutlery. Everything was sparkly clean and shining.

"Please, I will bring you everything at once." The woman disappeared back into the kitchen and while she was gone, Aria noticed a small movement with the corner of her eye.

She turned to look and there he was, Ior, Ellian's brother, looking at her from behind the wall. Aria smiled and waved at him, at which he waved back and cheerfully inched closer.

"You are my brother's wife, you're pretty," was the first thing that left Ior's lips as soon as he came closer and smiled proudly.

"Well, thank you, you adorable prince." Aria chuckled and looked at him from up close. He was the polar opposite of Ellian, cheerful and sweet, with black hair and eyes. His front tooth was missing, but he didn't seem to care as his smile was reaching his ears. Aria wondered where Ellian had gone astray, but then realized that life had always been difficult for the first-borns; he sympathized a bit with him, he probably had to step up as an adult from a very young age.

As soon as Aria realized what she was thinking she shook her head. That man was a monster, someone that deserved to die. She also had a bad upbringing, but she didn't go around assaulting people. She hated him, and that wouldn't change. She needed him dead.

"Hey, hey, you okay?" Ior's tapping on her thigh brought her back to the present and she relaxed her face. The boy was looking at her hair with much fascination.

"Your hair is like fire!" He exclaimed and threw his hands in the air laughing.

"You are a handsome young man yourself." Aria laughed back and reached to grab the boy and place him on her legs. Ior hummed happily and swayed back and forth, playing with the forks.

At that moment, the maids came out from the kitchen with the freshly baked pastries. The smell was spreading throughout the hall, a buttery delight of vanilla and strawberry.

"Young prince, please sit at your seat." One maid said in a harsh tone to Ior, and he threw his tiny hands around Aria, refusing to let go.

"It's okay, we will eat together." Aria smiled and patted Ior's head. She ruffled his hair and brought the plates closer to the edge of the table to he could eat with ease.

She didn't bother using any cutlery, she just grabbed a croissant with her bare hands and devoured it. Those last few days had been torture for her, so she had forgotten to eat, but after her meeting with Raven yesterday, and the fresh air hitting her face, she had gotten her appetite back.

"Do you like it?" Aria asked Ior that was devouring a cream and marmalade pastry, his mouth filled with strawberry jam and crumbs.

"Yesh, sho goow," Ior spoke in between bites, his mouth too full to make sense of what he was saying.

Just then, Ellian stepped inside, his hair matted and eyes dark. He seemed tired, as if he hadn't slept a wink the previous night. Compared to Aria, who also hadn't slept but was energized, he was barely standing.

He just looked at Aria and Ior eating with a cold stare but didn't say anything. He turned around and left, probably going back to their room. Aria wondered where he had been the whole night, but she soon forgot about his existence.

She looked at Ior and prayed for him to always stay this happy.

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