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fir3ylolol · 6 months

Text

cure for insomnia

pairing: Movie!Mike Schmidt x Reader

summary: mike comes home after a particularly hard night, completely exhausted. you know a way to help him sleep...

tw: vaginal sex, vaginal penetration, oral sex, eating out, cunniligus, sloppy making out, lazy-ish sex, dom/sub, sub!mike, dom!reader, praise, begging, afab reader, gn reader, he is actually so pathetic im losing my mind

a/n: hehehehe i love men who are kinda desperate. pls enjoy my first non-mk fic. not rly a fan of the creator, but i've got a lot of love for the franchise

word count: 1.21 k

Ao3

You awaken to hear the door opening then closing softly, and you turn over, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You notice your alarm clock, loud red numbers reading ‘6:30’. You sit up slightly, stretching and yawning, as you hear the shuffling of someone removing their shoes. And there is that someone, Michael pushing through the door and landing face down on the bed. You pat his head gently, whispering to not disturb him, “Bad night?’ You hear him mumble into the blankets, “Awful.” He rolls over, starting to remove his shirt and taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Everything went wrong. Remember how Abby kept complaining that I wasn’t bringing her? I didn’t have enough time to get ready, which meant I forgot my sleeping pills. So I’m exhausted now.” You twist your mouth to the side, looking at him sympathetically. “I’m sorry dear, c’mere.” You pat the bed next to you, and he drags himself over, quite slowly.

He shuffles under the sheets with you, pulling you close. You giggle at him, face buried in your chest with content hums. But you wrap your arms around his head, one hand playing with his hair and the other gently scratching his back. He’s a complete sucker for your touch, visibly melting into the bed further. You can feel his hands slowly drifting around your back, tracing nonsense shapes. Until you feel his hands travel lower, even slower than before. You look down at him, wondering how someone so tired still has enough energy to do this. But his hands reach your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh under his fingers. He groans out, and you feel his mouth open to press kisses into your clothed sternum. “Hey, what happened to ‘exhausted’, huh?’” You question down at him jokingly. Without moving his face, he speaks into your chest again, “I’m never too tired for you. Besides, I know Abby had a field trip today so she’s already gone.”

“Wow, you’re so prepared,” you tease gently, but the hand in his hair drifts lower, tangling at the nape of his neck. You gently pull, tilting his head back, which he does with a soft whine. “Want some help falling asleep? Hm?” He nods against your hold, eyes rolled back slightly. But you can feel his hands leave your ass and travel between your legs. “Can I…taste you first? Please?” He asks quietly, voice needy and desperate. Your eyelids flutter slightly, and the air in the room feels thicker. But who are you to turn down such a polite request? You nod, kissing him on the forehead gently. Before you know it, his face is between your thighs, staring up at you with sleepy eyes. He kisses against the underwear covering you, causing you to squirm at the feeling. Slowly, he removes them, losing himself momentarily as he stares in awe at you. “God…you’re stunning,” he breathes out, before diving in. Normally, he’s gentle, making sure you feel good at your pace. But this is not normally. Michael wastes no time in diving in, lips pressed against your clit and rolling it under his tongue. One hand props your thighs open and the other joins his mouth in making a mess of you, a finger curling inside you at a desperate pace. You jolt at the sudden feeling, and your hand resumes its place at his neck. He leans into the feeling, slowing down, but not stopping fully. “Is this for me, or you?” You say, trying to remain composed. Mumbling against you, he manages to say, “Myoum,” vibrations cause you to shiver. “Then go at my pace, yeah?” He nods and leans back in, the same movements but slower.

Now he’s actually working to draw you closer, sloppy movements that chase after your release. He’s laid out on his stomach, hips rolling in short, stuttering movements as he tries his hardest to feel good too. And your grip on his hair has tightened, half-fucking yourself against his face as your eyes are screwed up in pleasure and moans pour from your lips. He’s whimpering against you, looking up at you with eyes full of sleepy lust. You have no fear of holding back, curses of pleasure as you get close. You clamp down, trapping his face between your legs as you cum, shaking slightly at the intensity. You can hear his muffled moans, tongue lapping against you. You finally come down, releasing your grip on him with a sigh. He moves to your side and kisses you, the bottom half of his face soaked. You accept, messy and passionate lips crashing against each other as you wrap your arms around his back.

You let go and push against his shoulder, which he easily does, lying down on his back. You help pull his pants and boxers off fully, cock finally free and weeping. Climbing on top of him, legs on either side of his hips, you kiss him again. His hands cling to your hips desperately as he tries to find release again, length pressing against your thigh. One of your hands travels down slowly, tracing against his chest, causing him to shiver. You grab him lightly, leaning closer to him and whispering in his ear, “Want me to take care of you, baby?” He nods desperately, whining through his nose. You rub the tip against you, as he jolts beneath you.

As you ease yourself down, his grasp on your hips tightens, loud and heady moans pour out of his mouth. You waste no time, sharp rolls of your hips as you sit up. You watch how easily he comes undone completely, light whines and moans as he twists under you. He can barely control himself, exhaustion heightening his sensitivity. But you don’t ease up, continuing to use him as his face contorts in pleasure. You lean forward again, bouncing and squeezing him, chest pressed against him. You can feel the speed his heart is going, fast as a racehorse, with heavy breaths to match. He’s losing it now, seeing stars, only able to let out almost silent whimpers as his grip on you starts to slip. You press gentle kisses against his cheek and decide to be unfair, whispering to him, “Come on, cum for me love. You’ve been so good for me. You deserve it.” That does it, head pressed back into the mattress as he cums, hands shaking and legs kicking lightly. You’ve done it, you’ve destroyed him with just your body, as he babbles and whines incoherently. You stay on him as he comes down, watching as his movements still and his sounds grow quieter. As you climb off, he lets out a light whine but resumes his soft breathing once again. You lay next to him, smoothing down his hair and kissing his cheek. You go to speak but notice that he’s out cold, nearly snoring. You can’t help but giggle quietly to yourself, before wrapping around him gently. You don’t have anything to do today, and even if you did, you would stay here all day if he asked you to. As you enjoy the morning air, you hear him mumbling to himself, “I’m sore now.”

#fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #mike schmidt #michael schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf smut

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bratzforchris · 2 months

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hi! I’d love to see johnnie fluff w/ reader just cuddling him and admiring his tattoos?? please and thank you 🙏 🖤

Coloring Book

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Summary: In which you treat Johnnie and his tattoos like your own personal coloring book<3

Pairing: Johnnie x gender neutral reader (i don't think there's any fem terms in here, but please let me know if i'm mistaken!)

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 684

A/N: WHEN will i have my own personal johnnie guilbert??

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

“It’s so wet out,” You groaned, peeking through the blinds of your and Johnnie’s living room. “I’m bored.” You huffed, flopping on the couch beside your boyfriend dramatically.

“You’re like a puppy.” Johnnie mumbled, not taking his eyes off his phone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, playfully raising your eyebrow.

“You can’t stay still.”

“I wanna do something.” You pouted.

You couldn’t stand not having anything to do. Whereas Johnnie was perfectly content to hang out inside all day and engage in his hobbies, you preferred to be out and about, seeking out new experiences. In a rare turn of events, Johnnie had no filming and no editing to get done this weekend, and you didn’t have to work. Unfortunately though, Los Angeles had decided to torment you with a downpour of rain and chilly wind.

“C’mere,” Johnnie put his phone down and opened his arms for you to cuddle. “I love you.” he hummed once you were in his arms, kissing your head.

You snuggled into his chest, whispering back soft words of love. You figured that you might as well try to nap while Johnnie was holding you; maybe it would help pass the time. As you closed your eyes and tried to rest, images of things to do while stuck in the house floated through your mind until you suddenly shot up.

“Be right back.” You giggled, hopping off his lap and padding towards your office.

Johnnie shook his head with a soft laugh, wondering what in the world you were up to. You quickly returned, brandishing a large pack of Crayola markers. Your boyfriend looked at you curiously, seeing as how you weren’t holding any paper.

“Can I color in your tattoos?” You asked, straddling Johnnie’s lap and looking up at him with big puppy eyes.

“So that’s what you wanted to do?” Johnnie chuckled, squeezing your hips with a smile. “Sure baby, why not.” he told you, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

You let out an excited squeal as Johnnie pulled his shirt off. Your boyfriend was literally one big coloring book and your mind raced with possibilities of what you could do. You poked your tongue out in concentration as you selected a pink marker, beginning to decorate his ‘I’m not perfect’ tattoo with flowers and vines designs. Johnnie smiled as the marker glided across his skin, but that wasn’t what he was focusing on. Instead, he was admiring your beautiful face that was etched with concentration as you focused on making your lines neat.

You two stayed like that for quite a while. The rain pattering on the roof and the feeling of you coloring on his skin and leaving soft kisses on him was lulling Johnnie to sleep. Every now and then, you would whisper out how much you admired a certain tattoo. Being a big fan of both The Cure and of nature, your favorites were his Robert Smith tattoo and his tree tattoos. You adored all of Johnnie’s tattoos, though. They made him unique, telling you the story of his life without words. Not only that, but they also offered you quite a bit of entertainment on days like today.

“All done!” You exclaimed about an hour later.

Johnnie was pulled out of his sleepy trance, a smile on his face. “Am I allowed to look?”

You nodded, dragging him to the bathroom and flicking on the light. Your boyfriend stood in front of the mirror, admiring the beautiful colors you had added to his tattoos. Johnnie wasn’t a big fan of tattoos with color, but you had made them beautiful.

“I love it, baby.” he giggled, pecking your lips.

I love you,” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Thank you for being a wonderful coloring book.”

Johnnie smiled, picking you up and kissing you again. He loved you with all his heart, and that was definitely shown by the way he paraded around the house shirtless for the rest of the day, showing off the color you had added both to his skin and to his life.

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cy-cyborg · 7 months

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Writing disability: The Super-Crip Trope, and how to avoid falling into it's harmful elements

The "Magical disabled person" or as it's often called in disability circles, the "Super-Crip" is the name of a trope in which a disabled character has some kind of magic or special abilities, which is used to mitigate or erase the impact of their disability. While not a mandatory part of the trope, many super-crip characters are also stronger than their peers, specifically because of their disability's impact on their powers. So why is this trope so unpopular among many disabled people? There's a few reasons. The main one is because more often than not, Super-crips who are written by non-disabled people are often treated as an easy way out of actually having to deal with a character's disability, and a shortcut out of having to do the research into how a disabled character would deal with certain situations. When these writers encounter something they think their disabled character can't do, instead of actually talking to people with the same disability as their character and doing research, they just write that its not a problem because "magic powers go!"

In some cases, but not all, their powers all but erase their disability completely, at least from the perspective of it's relevance to the story. While, to my knowledge, this was never in the comics or movies, A good example of this is a "fan-theory" I've seen among non-disabled X-men fans who claim professor X could use his telepathy to walk, functionally bypassing his spinal injury (Or his leg injury, if we're going off some of the comics' timelines). This would functionally erase his disability, making it an example of both the super-crip trope and the miracle-cure trope.

ID: An image of Professor X from X-men, a white bald man wearing a suit, sitting in a silver wheelchair, and another unknown man in a suit standing beside him, framed by a circular doorway, both their faces are partially obscured by shadow. /end ID]

Another reason this trope is disliked is because writer's often have good intentions when using this trope, but they actually end up undermining the points they were trying to make. Often, super-crips are portrayed as badasses in an attempt to show that "you can still be a hero/useful to the plot and be disabled", but the way they portray it usually implies that disabled people, as they exist in real life, aren't useful unless they have something that compensates for their disability or have impossible powers.

So should super-crips be avoided entirely? Some folks in the community think so, but personally, I don't agree. Despite all of what I've said so far, I think there are ways to write characters who technically fit the definition of a super-crip, without it being harmful. There's an argument to be made that "super-crip" specifically refers to harmful version of the trope, so not everyone will consider characters who aren't part of it, but I do, and I think it's important to discuss both the harm this trope can bring, and how this trope can be used in non-harmful ways. Humans (and creatures with human-level intelligence) are adaptable creatures, and in a world where magic exists and especially in worlds where its common, disabled people will find ways to use it to help themselves. but help is the key word there. So let's talk about some ways you can write super-crips, without it crossing the line into becoming harmful. The following are some things for you to consider about your character's disability, how their magic/powers interacts with it, how they interact with the world (and vice versa) and more:

Are your character's powers an aid or a cure?

The first, and one of the most important things to consider, is if your character's powers function like an aid or piece of assistive tech, or a cure? If you boil it down, is the magic helping them or "fixing" them? This can be a cure in the literal sense, as in giving an amputee the ability to shape-shift to get their limb back, or a functional cure, meaning the power essentially by-passes the disability, like the above mentioned professor-X fan-theory. It's not literally curing him, but it might as well be. In a world where this magic or super-powers exist, it's perfectly natural that a character might use the magic to lessen the impact of their disability, but it shouldn't erase it entirely. Give the magic a trade off, make it imperfect. You character can cummon a magic prosthetic, but there's a time limit on how long it lasts for, or their magic needs to recharge it. A wheelchair using mage might be able to engrave magic runes on their chair that allow them to pass over rough terrain, but only to a certain extent. It might allow them to go up-stairs, but it can only be used so many times per day (and make sure you show the times where they need to get up the stairs, but have run out of uses!) Things like that.

Is the power directly tied to their disability?

Is the power you're giving the character directly tied to their disability? There's 2 ways you could read this, and both should be considered. 1. The power is something you, as the author, gave to them specifically because it would help mitigate their disability (e.g. giving a character without arms telepathy so they can still pick things up/hold things because you couldn't figure out how they would be a badass swordsman without it) or 2. Does this character, in universe, have their power specifically because of their disability? e.g. Did our arm amputee develop telepathy through sheer-force of will because they really wanted to be a swordsman, and their determination manifested as telepathy/A god gave them the powers because they felt bad for them/a wizard taught them how to do it because they were inspired by the person's perseverance? If the answer to the first one was yes, perhaps reconsider and do more research. If the answer to the second one is yes, proceed with a lot of caution. Generally, if the powers originate from someone feeling sorry for your character, being inspired by them or anything to do with their determination and perseverance, I'd recommend changing that. However, if the powers came from your character having to adapt something to to their disability, that is really a case-by-case basis thing. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. your success with it will depend on the character, the setting and the specifics of how.

Is this power common, or is this character the only person in the cast/only person we see with this ability?

Is the power you're giving your disabled character rare, or even unique? It's fine to give your disabled characters powers that are common within the world, but if they're one of the only people who has that ability (or similar abilities), ESPECIALLY if it directly helps mitigate their disability, you might want to reconsider that choice. In a world where everyone can fly, it would be weird if your wheelchair user couldn't without an explanation. But if no one else in the story can fly except your wheelchair user, it starts looking more like you just gave them that power so you don't have to think about accessibility in your world. If you really must give your disabled character the rare/unique power, consider making another character with a similar disability but no/more common powers so you aren't just avoiding the issue, or making the power not related to/impact their disability directly (e.g. giving your leg amputee super-hearing.)

Does this power solve a wider access issue in your world, or does it just make it easier for your character alone?

As a general rule of thumb, if you are writing a story where you don't want accessibility issues to be a thing (e.g. a story set in a utopia), focus on fixing the environment, not the characters. Instead of giving your wheelchair user the ability to fly upstairs, give the buildings ramps and lifts. That way, its a solution for everyone with that disability, no matter their access to things like magic or technology. When talking about super-crips, this is especially important, doubly so if your character's power is rare! I made a (mostly joking) post ages ago about an idea for an earth-bender character in the Avatar universe, who gets fed up with republic city being inaccessible and starts earth-bending all the stairs into ramps. This solves the accessibility issue for them, but also makes their environment more accessible for others without bending to get around. Of course, not every disabled character will want to help/care to help others, but often when non-disabled people write disabled characters with powers, they kind of forget that their character won't be the only disabled person in this world. It often feels like they honestly think fixing things for their character means there's no problem anymore, and that's not the case.

Avoid, "I may have [insert disability here] but I can still do stuff because of my power!"

By this, I mean give your character other ways to address issues relating to their disability than just their powers. One funny example I remember reading in a writing group I was a part of was this author who was bragging about how their paralysed character could still drive a car because they had electrokinisis (the ability to telepathically control electronics). Aside from the fact that wouldn't work on all cars - including the one their character drove, since not all cars have electronic components controlling their acceleration and brakes, the way they described it was extremely complex, and overall not worth the effort when the real-life solution, hand controls, was much, much easier and the setting allowed for easy access to that kind of tech. When I pointed this out to them, they said they had no idea hand controls were a thing, and they had no idea that real disabled people could drive. They thankfully changed it, but there's 2 things to take from this: 1, double check that disabled people can do the things you assume they can't, your magic solution might very well not be needed, and 2. variety is important regardless. No one device, or in this case, magic power, should act as a one-size-fits-all solution. IRL disabled people have lots of tools to help us, I have 2 sets of prosthetics for different tasks, a wheelchair, a grabby claw (for reaching things on high shelves when using my short legs and wheelchair) and hand controls in my car (or at least I used to but we won't get into that lol). My prosthetics won't "fix" all my problems, I need other tools too. keep this in mind when it comes to magic too - it shouldn't be the only thing at your character's disposal.

There's nothing to compensate for.

Remember, don't treat your character's disability as something they need to make up for (especially if they "make up for it" using their powers). Your disabled character is allowed to make mistakes, they're allowed to have flaws both related and unrelated to their disability, they're allowed to not be good at some things, and they don't always have to be the best at whatever their roll in the plot is. In most stories, they should be on par with the other characters, or at least in the same ball-park, but as I mentioned before, a lot of stories don't let disabled characters fail. In order to justify them even being present, they are often made out to be the undeniable best, almost to mary-sue levels of perfection and super-crips especially fall into this issue a lot. They can be good at things, but balance it out, like with any other character.

You don't have to use all of these points, but they are still worth at least considering. For example, Toph fails all of these points except the first three. Despite that, she's still one of my favorite disabled characters in media, even if she's not perfect, and I'm not alone in thinking that. I've seen lots of other disabled people say the same about her. Which of these points you should use will depend on your story, character, setting and tone. As I've mentioned a few times now, the key is striking a balance. At the end of the day though, these are only general pieces of advice and a lot more factors go into making a character like this work. only disabled people will be able to tell you if you've pulled it off, and that's where beta-readers and disabled sensitivity readers come in!

Also, remember, these kinds of tropes don't just apply to the more common/well-known disabilities like amputations and wheelchair users, that's just what I have experience with! Be sure to research any disabilities your character has to ensure you are not falling into these tropes.

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killsaki · 1 year

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implode — there’s only so many feelings one can hold in, especially with bakugou blood in their veins.

bakugou katsuki x little sister!reader

6.7k | minors dni | read on ao3

cw / tw : incest, drugging, hinted noncon gangbang, scummy!denki+sero+kiri, aphrodisiac, weed, alcohol, fingering, creampie, reader calls bkg ‘bubba’.

is it hard being the sibling of a prohero?

of course! they disappear for days to weeks at a time—leaving for training, meetings, press events, and then for missions. you go from having them all to yourself, to sharing them with the world. from being their number one fan, to merely feeling like one amongst a million. and there’s so many things to worry about, from them going to work and never coming home, to a villain coming after you out of spite of being captured by said sibling.

those all sound logical answers to the question, normal ones. hence why you’ve practiced saying them so many times in case anyone ever asks.

but, truly, you knew most of those were things you’d never have to worry about. not when you’re the younger sister of none other than bakugou katsuki.

your brother being, well.. himself, was enough to keep any thoughts of danger from your mind. he was too fast, too strong, too skilled, too protective for anything to ever happen to either of you. but this peace of mind only gives room for you to dwell on other things.

like the social media ‘famous’ girls who just don’t shut up about how hot your brother is—which shouldn’t bother you so much, not in the stomach churning, phone gripping way that it does. and you could blame your intense reactions on the fact that you have to see it literally every time you try to scroll down your timeline, or that it’s just weird that your brother is suddenly getting so much attention.. but that's less believable than the first excuse to you.

and then there’s the out of context candids posted in tabloids of him saving civilians, who understandably look at him so longingly, and then there’s a picture painted of him as some kind of bachelor. to make matters worse, said online articles become almost impossible to escape no matter how much you try—partially thanks to your old school ‘friends’ sending them to you asking for all the details to share with their group chats, as if you’d tell them.

to top everything off, your brother, as doting as he is, never has time for you anymore. despite how you live with him, have your own room and bath in his unnecessarily large condo, and even have a card to his bank account for anything you could possibly need—still, you rarely see him. he’s so consumed in his work, from partols to missions, and when he’s not on the clock he’s forced to do press and modeling for whatever goodies they want to slap his picture onto.

and you could never hold that against him, not when he’s been working towards this his whole life. but still, having just a moment with him could cure all the thoughts that hang heavy in your mind daily. just a second to be reminded that your brother is yours, all alone. that you’re the only little sister he’ll ever have, the only girl he’ll ever need.

luckily for you, a day comes that your brother gets a day's break—more like he’s forced into a vacation as he never takes any days off. and he’s able to lounge about, meaning that he’s sitting on the couch in sweats and bouncing his leg waiting for someone to call his phone saying he can finally come to work as if being away from it was excruciating. you could giggle at the thought, what person besides katsuki would rather be out fighting petty criminals than relaxing on their own couch.

“did you hear me?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he looks over at you.

you shake your head, too caught up in your thoughts to realize he was even speaking to you.

“the guys want me to go over for a bit. i won’t be gone long.” he repeats before turning back to his phone screen as he finishes typing.

your heart jumps into your throat. tonight was exactly what you’d been longing for, time with just the two of you, so you could reassure yourself the importance of the role you have in his life. so that you could have katsuki all to yourself. so that you could pretend for just a little while, that he’s just your brother again, not the hero you have to share with the world.

“i wanna go too.” you spit without thought.

he shoots you another look, lifting a brow as he blinks at you. “i want to come hang out too.” you say again as you chew at your lip, unable to back out of the situation your loud mouth has already gotten you into.

“no.” he replies back coldly, pushing himself from the couch before stretching his arms up, revealing the bottom of his toned stomach as he does so. “there’s going to be a lot of people, and drinking.” he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes before mumbling on. “and denki’s gonna be there.”

you snap your gaze up to him in confusion about the mention of a certain friend of his. but, he doesn’t let you get any questions out, heading off towards his room to get ready to leave. you pad right behind him, arms crossed while you walk, letting out huffs every few minutes just to remind him how you’re not going to give up. you sit on his bed as he collects an outfit to wear and little things he needs for a shower, noticing how he avoids making any glances in your direction.

it’s not until he’s already fully showered and starting to dress himself that he cracks, groaning as he looks at you.

“go fuckin’ get dressed.” he orders with out any actual malice in his tone. “once i get in the car, i’m leaving.”

your brother is many things, but a liar is not one.

so, you race to your room, tearing into your dresser to slip into that one outfit you’d been holding onto, hoping to wear the next time you’d gotten the chance to go on an outing with katsuki. though, you’d pictured something with more room for alone time, you suppose it would work at a party with his old friends too.

you’d just finished touching up what you need in the mirror as you hear his car engine start up, giving you only seconds to force yourself into your shoes and jog out to his car.

“you stay by my side until we leave.” he looks over at you, while you reach over your shoulder for the seatbelt, his crimson eyes squinted warningly. “i mean it.”

he didn’t mean it.

it’s not even half an hour after you arrive, barely finished shoving your way through the sweaty bodies crowded in someone’s living space, hardly enough time enough to adjust your ears to the shitty music and screams of laughter—something catches your brother's eye, to which he leaves you in the hands of his old classmate. ‘be back in a minute’, he says, pushing you into the red head’s side. but it’s not a minute, it’s been thirty and you haven’t managed to spot the blonde mess of a head, not even from your seat on the kitchen’s counter over the crowd merely feet away.

“what’s wrong?” kirishima raises his eyebrows slightly at you from behind his solo cup.

“just expected to be with kats’,” you huff, fingers twiddling with the end of your skirt. “kinda the only reason i came.”

he nods, glancing down into his drink before peering over his shoulder.

“want a sip?”

you know that you shouldn’t, how mad your brother will get at the both of you if he shows up to find you wasted and slung over his best friend.

“it’ll help you relax, at least until he gets back. i won’t let you drink too much, i promise.”

you can’t resist the small smile he gives. he’s so warm, safe. being with him is almost the same as being with katsuki, almost.

one sip turns into two cups, and suddenly it’s not just you and eijiro anymore. sero and denki showed up somewhere along the way. but, it’s fine, you think. they’re heroes alongside your brother, and they’ve known him long enough to know any better. only, in your slurred thoughts, that voice in the back of your mind starts to hope otherwise.

they’re all undoubtedly handsome, the three of them much taller than you despite the height difference amongst themselves, and all so strong. there’s sero with his shaggy black hair, signature grin and pretty ring clad fingers that grip the cup he’d been babysitting since he’d walked over. denki and his pretty pink lips he never stops running his tongue over, his slightly whiney voice and golden eyes that just get so much deeper when he looks at you. and then of course, kirishima, who’s just so unreasonably big, length and width—wait, that's… not the right words. but now you wonder—

“what are you smiling about?” the blonde asks from where he’s propped on the kitchen’s island across from you.

you shake your head, biting your lips when you realize how caught up in your thoughts you let yourself get with them still right in front of you.

“i was just thinking.” you let out, trying to look anywhere but at kirishima.

“thinking about?” the voice pipes in from beside you, resting his head on your arm as he leans back to look up at you. your heart races a bit when you can physically feel how close he’s gotten to you without you realizing.

“yeah, you’ve been so quiet. not really living up to the bakugou name.” sero shakes his head with fake disapproval.

“my brother’s not that loud.” you giggle, knowing it's a lie before it even hits your tongue. “i was just thinking about how i never see you guys, you’re so different than you were when i met you back at the graduation.” you sigh. “he never lets me go out with him when you guys invite him.”

you miss the look that hanta and kaminari share, how the corners of the blonde's mouth perk up for a split second before he paints on a confused expression.

“when do we invite him out?” he asks, tilting his head slightly when you look up at him.

you nearly mimic the movement when you register his words.

“always?..” you ask, but glancing at the dark haired man and the red head who share the same confused expression, you don't need an answer. “but he… i’m so confused.”

you can only blink, staring at the black side of the fridge, thinking back on the rare nights that he gets off with enough time to do anything besides shower and sleep. how he’d knock on your door, letting you know he was running over to one of ‘the guys’ house before it got too late. he was never gone too terribly long, but that’s just how your brother is. you always thought he literally only went to say hi and came home—wanting to get enough sleep for another full day of hero work. that’s the only thing that made any sense.

“hey, don’t worry about it.” kirishima’s large hand has somehow found its way to rub soothingly at your side, arm now wrapped behind your back.

“i’m sure he could’ve meant midoriya or something.” denki still wears a straight face, speaking with faulty concern.

sero stays quiet while he pulls out his phone, scrolling through something and finally starting to sip out of his cup.

“i should go try to find him.” you go to slide off the counter when denki speaks up again.

“i think you should stay with us.”

the words send a gut wrenching feeling to your core, your body screams to get away, but you fight it.

“why?” you dumbly ask, the smallest bit of curiosity keeping you.

“your brother’s busy.” he shrugs, bumping sero’s shoulder with his own.

the long fingers you were admiring minutes ago faint against yours as he hands you his phone, the screen showing a man you recognize unmistakingly as your brother, dressed in the outfit he’d worn tonight. his arm snug around some girl's lower back, ducked down with his mouth to her ear, the camera’s quality is shitty but even so, you can still see the way their bodies are pressed together. you feel your heart sink, though, you’re not entirely sure why.

you let yourself get slotted back into kirishima’s side, finding a sense of comfort in the weight of his arm around your shoulder as they walk you to the glass doors at the back of the house.

“don’t looked so bummed little baku’!” denki shoots you a grin. “we’ll keep you entertained for the night.”

the air is warm outside, not helping to cool your cheeks that are still hot from the alcohol. the four of you end up sitting on some cushioned benches near the middle of the yard, surrounded by small bushes. it’s much nicer than being inside, but you’re not entirely sure why they brought you out here. not until sero pulls out something rolled and a lighter. you watch as he puts it between his lips, lighting the end and inhaling til the end burns red without the flame. you forget to look away whenever he exhales, giving him the chance to catch you watching him.

“you want to hit it?” his voice suddenly sounds like silk, acting like ties as it’s doing everything to pull you in despite the way your nerves are still screaming at you.

“i’ve never smoked before.” you laugh awkwardly. “my brother would kill me.”

he flashes that big toothy grin, shaking his head for the who-knows-what time that night and you know you’re in for it whenever you see your brother again. but just for this second, you think it’ll be okay.. if he’s busy with some girl when he told you he’d be by your side for the night, then you can have fun with his cute friends.

“he doesn’t have to know.” sero pulls you back to the moment in front of you. “come here, i’ll teach you.”

you’re moving without thinking, giggling again at the way he shoo’s denki from beside him so that you can sit. he teaches you how to breathe it in easily, but how not to take too much. and you do exactly as he says, letting him put it on your lips, you pull in a slow but shallow drag. holding it until he tells you to let it out.

“good girl.” hanta smirks, the warmth of his hand holding your jaw as he moves the damp paper back to your mouth. “now do it again, just like that.”

you listen, thinking nothing of it. thinking nothing at all, actually. you can’t. the flood of warmth lingering in your veins from those drinks that you’re just realising were much stronger than you thought and the clouds now fogging your consciousness, too much to form any kind of thought.

“here, try this.” you hear from the side- no, in front of you. denki’s leaned over with a diamond shaped candy on his palm.

you hesitate, but not able to talk, body already working overtime to remember how to breathe properly.

“it’ll just make you feel good, i just took one too.” he reassures, gesturing again for you to grab it. if you could feel your body right now, you’d feel every single inch of it aching to run. you’d feel that same feeling in your stomach as it started to churn. maybe you would’ve listened this time. but instead all you can feel is the race in your chest as you eye the light blue against his pale skin.

“c’mon.” kirishima’s showing off his sharp teeth with how wide he’s grinning, trying his hardest to be just as reassuring as he was to get you to drink with him a while ago. “we’re your brother's best friends, you know we wouldn’t let anything happen to you.. even if he is busy.

you take another deep breath, nodding. right. katsuki wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

“let me.” denki’s suddenly standing over you, candy- pill pinched between his fingers, a grin just as big plastered on his face. “open up.”

you miss the devilish intent hiding behind those smiling faces. you miss the almost telepathic conversation they all have in the glances they share as you flutter your pretty eyes closed, letting your tongue fall out for denki to drop the pill on. it hits your taste, dissolving almost immediately. you swallow the bitter grainy bits, grimacing as you only have your spit to get it down with.

“give it just a few minutes.” the blonde speaks again, much more eagerly this time. which should alert you, all of this should.

you could blame it on the alcohol you have a low tolerance for, on the weed you’ve never smoked, on the fact you trust anyone who attaches their name to your brothers. but really, it’s because you’re dumb. you don’t think anything bad can ever happen to you. not like this. not when your brother is so close.

“it’s kinda warm out here.” you mumble, shifting uncomfortably on the padding. you feel the heat across your cheeks and down your neck, skipping to your stomach that warms slowly, trickling down between your legs and across your thighs. “think i want some water.”

you slowly push yourself to stand, body feeling heavy as you move. you don’t catch how they all follow right behind you, until sero—no, denki’s arm slinks its way around your waist as you walk. he pulls you away from the path back to the glass door and towards the gate in the big wooden fence.

“it’s too hot in there.” he tugs you again when you weakly attempt to pull away. “kirishima’s place isn’t too far from here. we can just hang out there while you cool off.”

you shake your head, mind racing to how badly you just want something to drink, and to be with katsuki. mentally cursing out the stupid girl in that picture for taking your brother away from you, for stealing his attention when you’re the one who needs it. and you curse yourself, for not listening to his warning when he said denki would be here.

“denki.” you drag your feet, doing anything to attempt a fight against the push of his much stronger hands. “what was that? the…” it’s hard to think, even harder to push those thoughts into words and say them aloud “the pill. what’d you give me?”

“i told you,” he smirks, glancing behind you and nodding one of the men over. “it’s just to make everything feel better.” stepping aside, kirishima’s heavy arm replaces denki’s, locking you under it and forcing you forward. your heart races at all the implications that could have. you don’t even notice you’re shaking until he wraps his other arm around you, bending his head down to graze the shell of your ear, whispering into it

“it’ll make things easier,” something about his tone makes you want to vomit. “just don’t think about it, pretty.”

“don’t get too friendly, dude, i’m the one who set this up.” denki bites, pulling his keys out as the four of you near a car. “there’s no way you get first.”

sero snickers again, sighing as kiri opens his mouth to snide back about how he’s been waiting two years and that you should at least get to pick that much. you can’t really make it out anymore, all you can hear is your own heartbeat banging in your ears.

you try and struggle out of his hold, which only makes them all laugh in turn and your heart falls into your stomach. you’re with pro heroes, if anything bad is going to happen to you here, at their hands, there's no way you’re going to fight your way out of it.

sero’s fingers wrap around the handle of the car’s back door when the voice booms out your name down the small hill the house is sitting on.

you can physically feel kirishima tense up and his heart start to race, you can hear the way sero and denki stop breathing in unison. you can even picture the way they all freeze without having to look, you can imagine the absolute fear in their face as they stand there, gaping at your brother.

his red eyes dig into you before taking a second to glance at the men around you.

“why do you look so fucked up?” he barks out, brows furrowing deeper with each step he takes towards you. “where the fuck were you guys about to go?”

he’s eyeing kirishima now, tugging you by your wrist out of the red head’s hold and into his own, gripping you as if he lets go, you'll get stolen away.

“she said it was hot in there.” kirishima shrugs awkwardly, face stiff.

“and who the fuck said you could take her anywhere?” bakugou tilts his head face twisted dumbfoundedly at the boldness his old friend suddenly seems to have.

“my place is just up the street she wanted to—“

“and why the fuck do you have her around denki?” you can feel bakugou’s skin grow hotter to the touch with each word he spits. or maybe it's you that’s getting hotter. god, it’s fucking hot.

“i didn’t drive.” he shrugs again, breaking eye contact to look over at the other blonde.

“she’s not a baby bakugou, she can be around whoever she wants.” kaminiari says smugly, like the idiot he is.

“i’ll kill you.” your brother doesn’t hesitate with this threat, and it wipes the smile off denki’s, raising his hands slightly in defence.

you use the hold he has on you to wrap your arm around his, feeling a great sense of relief pressed against him.

“he didn’t touch you did he?” katsuki’s voice is still gruff when he talks down to you, but you don’t mind it.

you know that he did technically touch you, but not enough to hurt anything. and if you answer truthfully it’ll just drag this out even longer, and all you want is to be wrapped around him. so, you shake your head, and you hope he doesn’t hear the way they all sigh in relief.

your brother doesn’t say anything else, just pulls you away towards where he’d parked. the second he turns around, you peek back at the men. kirishima has his head tossed back, hand over his chest as he takes in a deep breath, sero, leaned against the car shoulders shaking with laughter while denki curses and slams the driver side door shut.

“i’m hot katsu’” you whine when he unlocks the door for you.

“how much did he let you drink?” he scoffs, leaning across you and buckling your seatbelt for you as if you’re unable.

you huff, watching his strong arms reach over your body. his warm chest coming down to press into yours, that you find is so sensitive. so much so that a small whine escapes your throat before you’re able to register it he’s already pulled back looking down at you. one hand on the top of the car as he leans over, eyebrows pinched together.

“‘m just hot, bubba.” you assure, face burning in embarrassment and whatever else was setting your body on fire.

he immediately blasts the AC as soon as the car is on, and in the second that it satiates the burning under your skin, you remember.

“who was the girl?” you question, voice somewhere between shaking and slurring. you shouldn’t be asking, there’s no reason for you to do this right now—or at all. “the one you left me to go see.”

katsuki just stares ahead for a second before his jaw tightens.

“and where did you see me with a girl?” he asks blankly, like he already knows the answer.

“sero had a picture. they said you were busy, that’s why i stayed with them.” you answer truthfully, hoping he’d driven far enough to not want to turn back.

“i didn’t know her, sero at introduced us.” he scoffs, scowl resting on his face as he keeps his eyes focused on the drive.

the heat begins to dig into you again, the cool blow the ac’s aid only a temporary fix.

“why? why didn’t you come look for me? text me?” he asks, his short fuse burning already.

“you were busy.” you reply shortly, too focused on the ache going on in your lower half.

“and? if i knew that shit face was going to try fucking with you we would’ve left as soon as we got there.” he shakes his head, voice raising only slightly.

“you were with a girl, katsu! i didn’t want to interrupt.” you throw your head back against the cool leather, smoothing your hands out over your skirt, across the tops of your thighs as if that would help.

“you’re my little sister, that’s completely different.” he scrunches his face up as he glances between you and the road, the same thing he does anytime anyone says something he thinks is the slightest bit dumb.

“is it?” you ask.

“yes.” he snaps back.

“so if i wasn’t your little sister, you wouldn’t care?” you mumble, shifting at the warmth you feel start to spill into your panties. “or if i wouldn’t have come with you tonight, would you have left with her?”

he sighs, exasperated.

“what the fuck are you saying right now?” he keeps glancing at you, rushing a reply.

“why did you leave me to go see her?” you groan. “why didn’t you stay with me? why didn’t you wanna just be at home with me?”

he only gets your name and a curse out before you cut him off, the heat itching at you becoming too much.

“katsu’ ‘m so hot.” you mewl, raking your hands down your body, reveling in the momentary coolness under your own touch. you can feel the way he stiffens slightly next to you, but the previous tension is out the window, almost forgotten.

“i have the ac on.” he states, keeping his eyes on the road as you near the building the two of you call home.

“it’s inside katsu, ‘m hot on the inside.”

he stops the car with a jerk in the middle of the parking lot, snapping his head over towards you.

“what did they give you?” his question is sharp, voice filled with anger once again.

“denki gave me candy—no, a pill.” you toss your head side to side, thighs rubbing together mindlessly. “to make me ‘feel good’—make everything, no—something feel good that’s what they said, but i just hurt.”

you can hear death threats spill out his mouth as he watches you squirm in the seat.

“i’ll take you to the hospital.” he mutters, putting a hand on the shoulder of your seat to look behind him as starts to back out.

“no!” you whine, grabbing his hand and pulling it to your lap. “i don’t want doctors touching me.”

he keeps his eyes on you as you put his palm against your inner thigh, watching how you keen against the seat when his skin touches yours.

“want you to help me, bubba, please.” he pulls his hand from you, face contorted with.. something before he’s rubbing his palms over his face and pulling at his hair. you realize what you just asked and for the umpteenth time tonight, your heart sinks. but this time you're sure that if you stood, it’d be sitting on the seat underneath you.

“i’m—katsuki, i’m sorry.” you start to babble out apology after apology, which soon all runs together and becomes broken as you tear up, voice cracking every other word.

the blond throws his head back, hard. quickly changing gear and moving his car into a private parking spot. you’re still crying when he pulls your wrist, strength easily shifting you over the middle console of his car and into his lap.

“tell me that you need my help.” he blinks up at you, holding your waist just above his lap.

you nod, hoping it’ll suffice, but it doesn’t.

“i need you to help me, katsu—no one else can.” he drops you onto his lap, fingertips digging into the softness of your sides. “please, make it better.” you breathe, shakily.

he uses his hold to drag you across his lap, the friction making you drop your head onto his shoulder. pleasure shooting up your spine, small whines of his name getting lost in his neck as he keeps grinding you down onto him until your thighs start to shake, your moans turn into breathless whines and you’re crumbling against him as you make a mess all over his jeans…

the two of you sit in panting silence for a few minutes before he tells you to move, that you need a shower. and like you always do, you listen. following him inside and discarding your clothes from your still buzzing body in silence. but as soon as the showers water hits you, you’re burning again. the ache between your legs coming back stronger than before, the burn in your stomach twice as hot and the need is too much.

you don’t hesitate to make your way right back to his room, body still nude and dripping all over the floors as you do. but you don’t care—your brain and body only knows one thing right now and it’s that you need your brother.

“what are you doing?” he strains, turning his head back towards the drawer he was sorting through as soon as he takes in your naked body standing at his doorway.

“i still hurt, katsu.” you whisper, not caring if he heard you or not. just wanting him to give you more than what he gave earlier.

“i already helped.” you can hear pain in his voice and it makes you want to cry. you wish you didn’t put him in such a position, that you would’ve just been grateful and stayed home—but you need him, it’s all your mind and body can tell you, you need him.

“help again.” you practically demand, craving him too badly to be embarrassed or think much at all about what you were doing. your hands land on his shoulders and pull yourself up to kiss at his neck trying to entice him.

“i can’t.” he groans low, but doesn’t attempt to push you away, letting you drag your lips across all the skin you can reach.

you don’t say anything else, not until you manage to pull him down by his hair to look at you.

“make it better.. like you always do.”

it’s the pebble that cracks the glass, his hands grip your waist and all but throw you onto his mattress. you only have a moment to gasp before he’s hovering over you.

“say it again.” he commands, voice rough as one of his hands makes its way to the apex of your thighs. your eyes flutter at the vibration of his words against your chest, the knot in your stomach already tying itself.

“make me feel better, bubba, please.”

there was a reason behind why he’s left the condo the few times that he does get to sit in the house, a reason why he doesn’t want to be alone with you for too long. it’s not that he doesn’t have any restraint, but he’s known thatif something ever happened, where the little sister that has always been the exception his selfish attitude asked him to do anything like this—even without whatever the fuck it was that denki gave you—he’d do it.

he drags a heavy finger along your slit, up to your still swollen clit making you gasp against his lips as they ghost your own. he teases only for a second, not able to bare you being in pain when he’s there to do something about it, just like he’s always been. he uses your excessive slick to rub harsh circles over your clit, it sends your eyes rolling back, it’s so much more practiced than the pathetic frottage he pulled in the car.

“need more, katsu, please.” you push your hips into his hand with the little bit of strength you have, desperate for as much as he’ll give you.

he drops his forehead to your shoulder this time, looking down as he moves his fingertips to your entrance, pushing two in without warning. he immediately works away with them, curling into your swollen, most sensitive wall and fucking into you with a strength that could only be possessed by such a high ranking pro hero. your wetness sticks to his knuckles with every pull before it squelches obscenely loud when he pushes back in.

“kiss me, katsu.” you whine.

he brings his lips back to yours, red eyes flickering between both of your eyes for a moment, waiting for you to take it back. you don’t, instead, sliding your hands from where they sat on his shoulders up to twist into his hair.

“you can pretend ‘m someone else… just please kiss me.” his fingers pause their movement for a moment, and he pulls away. you start to whine, from the loss and out of fear you’d said something wrong again.

“why would you say that?” you trip over any word that hits your tongue. but you don’t need to speak, he does it for you. “i don’t need to do that,” his fingers pick their pace back up, drawing wonton moans from you that you wouldn’t be able to bite back if you tried. “not when i’ve always pretended everyone else was you.” he admits.

your heart leaps in your chest just as he presses his mouth into yours, the kiss is littered with teeth and spit—but neither of you can find a reason to care.

the familiar feeling starts to coil in your stomach, your hips moving on their own down on his hand to chase the feeling of ecstasy but it never comes, you cry out as the pressure fades.

“more.” you cry softly against his lips, keeping your eyes screwed shut so you don’t have to face any look that he might give you. “‘need you.”

but, he complies, tugging himself out of the sweats he’d thrown on after his shower and kicking them off to be dealt with later. he doesn’t waste any time teasing, rushing to give you what you want—what you need, to make his pretty little sister feel good the way he’s been cursing his brain for imaging for the longest time.

he lines the thick head of him up with your already stretched hole, dropping back down to your lips as he eases in. the pop of the head of him pulls a gasp from the both of you, but he doesn’t give you time to adjust to it, knowing with how you’ve been aching to be filled all night that you can handle the stretch. which is exactly what he gives you, his fingers were nothing in comparison to the girth of his cock.

it stings, making your eyes tear up, and drags whine after whine from your throat. katsuki catches them in his mouth, swallowing them and shushing you while he continues to push in until he’s at the hilt. you babble out senseless ‘thank you’s while he pulls back slightly, never separating your hips and his own by too much. his hips make a circular motion, grinding back into you slowly, pushing the trimmed light colored pubes at the base of him against your ever throbbing clit and making you squeal from the pleasure of it.

he repeats it over and over, curved length of him dragging along your g-spot until youre twitching, your mouth hangs open, sounds falling against his lips as he drinks all of them in. your hips rise every few strokes trying to meet him, to egg him on to go harder, to give you more without having to ask for it, but he just wont. keeping his slow, sensual pace, as if he was fucking you at his own leisure and not because you basically forced yourself onto him

“love you, bubba.” you whisper drunkenly, lips dragging across his soft ones as you speak.

his hips stutter at your words, strong arms move from holding himself over you to grabbing the underside of your knees and pulling them slightly, wrapping your legs around him. “ah- my katsu.”

“keep telling me.” he grunts, sliding his hand down to your waist where your thighs fold over them. “tell me i’m yours, say that you’re mine.”

he finally picks up his antagonizing pace, hips still swirling into yours, pubic hair scratching against your bud with each push. the head of him presses deep against that spongey spot with each sway, heavy balls sticking to your leaked juices as you chant out the i love you’s like a mantra, like it’s the only meaningful thing that you’ve ever said. it’s not long before your legs start to shake, his cock hitting all of the right nerves in your throbbing cunt.

“don’t stop.” he repeats when your mouth drops wide open, orgasm creeping up on you.

“mine! you’re mine!” you cry as your vision turns white and your walls spasm around him. “‘m yours, all yours, bubba.” you whimper as the ache in your cunt becomes the pain of overstimulation.

your words and the steady throb of your clamping cunt ultimately bringing him to his end with you. you feel the heat simmer down as he fills you, warmth spilling out even as his cock still plugs you. and you couldn’t be more thankful for denki being such a scumbag.

you don’t have enough strength to stay awake past that, all of your energy left with the last orgasm. at some point you wake up, you’re clean between your thighs and cuddled up on your brother's warm chest. you shift only an inch and you could feel him jump awake to pull you closer, leaving a kiss on the top of your head before you drift back to sleep with small smiles on both of your faces—happy to be your brother’s girl.

a / n : obligatory bkgs little sis tag : @vampireloverz <33 thank you stevie for inspiring me to write this in first place!!!! +++ happy birthday to The Guy !!!

reblogs + feedback appreciated !

#bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki smut #my hero smut #mha smut #bnha smut #boku no hero smut #my hero academia smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #my hero x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero x reader #lets how long i keep this up #this is so good fr tho you should read it and praise me

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theemporium · 6 months

Text

The mission was supposed to be a simple lookout and scope.

The Order had received some intel about dodgy meet-ups and gatherings that seem linked to Voldemort, or at least some of his most loyal followers. But with little information on the place and the fine details, the Order had decided the safest option would be to send a few members out to sweep the area before they sent out a full team.

The team sent out were you, Remus and Sirius—a strong team that should have been able to hold themselves pretty well if something went wrong. And to be fair, you were a strong team until you realised the whole thing was a massive trap.

However with all three of you trained in combat by some of the greatest wizards in the Wizarding World, the countless battles and duels were a breeze. The issue came from the smoke bomb thrown at the three of you as you fled to find a safe place to hide until backup came.

The effects didn’t kick in until you had lost them, finding safety in a small abandoned building near the edge of the town you were visiting. The place was damp, creaky and cold, but it was far better than battling off an unknown amount of deatheaters without extra help. You didn’t even notice yourself until Sirius kept shuffling beside you, squirming as he pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“Would you stop?” You hissed, your eyes peeking through a slit between boards of wood as you waited to see if you had been followed,

“I can’t,” Sirius huffed, letting out a noise of distress as he tugged on his clothes. “‘m fuckin’ boiling.”

You rolled your shoulders back, trying to ignore the sudden acknowledgement of how hot it was in an abandoned tavern that should have had the three of you shivering for warmth without any heating spells.

“Fuck,” Remus groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his back against the wall. “It must’ve been that fuckin’ bomb they threw at us.”

“What was it?” Sirius groaned.

“Not sure,” Remus bit back.

And for a while, it stayed like that. It stayed unbearably warm as the three of you squirmed and fanned yourselves and hoped that the others were coming soon—maybe even with a cure to whatever it was that was affecting you.

Your eyes wandered over the two boys, taking in their appearances.

Remus was leaning back against the wall, the sweater of his long gone and leaving him in a tight t-shirt that moulded around his arms. His neck was exposed as he leaned his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed deeply and let out a shuddering sigh. Your eyes wandered down his body, noticing the faint outline of his abs through the shirt before you paused on the tent in his trousers.

Your cheeks burned, your gaze quickly snapping over to Sirius.

His chest was completely bare, the remainder of his clothes sitting in a pile beside him. His hair was tied into a low bun on the back of his head, his jaw softly clenching as he hummed and drummed his fingers against his thighs. Your eyes focused on his hands, on the way his rings glinted in the low light and the way they moved with such speed and dexterity.

“You’re staring.”

Your eyes snapped up, finding Remus watching you with hooded eyes.

“What?”

“Don’t act all innocent,” he mused, his lips twitching upwards. “You were staring. At both of us. It’s making your lil’ head spin, isn’t it, love?”

“Remus,” you breathed out, but no further words came out.

“Shhh, don’t need to be shy about it,” Remus murmured as his eyes wandered over to Sirius. “I don’t blame you.”

“I—” You started, but you didn’t know what to say. You found them both attractive, you would have been fucking blind to think otherwise. But they were your friends. Your friends you had known for years. Your friends who you had never thought about in such a way—at least, not in broad daylight when you were around people.

“Bet you’re fuckin’ soaking for us,” Remus continued as he pushed himself off the wall. However, just when you thought he would be close enough for you to touch, he made his way towards Sirius and you couldn’t help but whimper in response.

Sirius let out a groan when Remus pulled the bun, unravelling his hair and making it easier to pull the boy’s head back. Remus glanced down at him, at the neediness in his eyes and the flush of his cheeks and he couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to kiss Sirius.

You squirmed in your spot as you watched them. As you watched Remus’ tongue slide into Sirius’ mouth. As Sirius’ hands gripped Remus’ waist before sliding over the bulge in his trousers. As both boys moaned and panted and kissed until their lungs were burning for air.

Remus’ hooded eyes found yours when he pulled away, his lips swollen and wet as Sirius desperately palmed himself. You didn’t even hesitate as you crawled over, settling yourself on Sirius’ lap even if your eyes stayed locked on the other wizard.

“Stinging nettle.”

You frowned. “What?”

“A plant used for multiple potions, most harmful,” Remus stated as he gripped your face in his hand, his thumb brushing over your lips. “If brewed right, it can kill someone slowly and painfully.”

Your lips parted, wrapping around his thumb wordlessly as he pushed it deeper into your mouth.

“Brewed wrong and it can have many varying effects,” he continued as his eyes darkened. “Itchiness…overheating…dehydration…increased libido.”

“Some smoke made us fuckin’ horny?” Sirius scoffed, only to let out a low groan when your hips bucked against him, grinding down on his painfully hard cock. “Shit, sweetheart.”

“And there’s only one way to fix it,” Remus replied as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head, your body seeming to move on its own accord against Sirius as you eagerly sucked his thumb. “Feelin’ needy, honey?”

You whined, nodding.

“You want us to fill you up? Make you feel better?”

You nodded again. You needed them. You needed them in a way you had never needed anyone before. You needed them both inside you. You needed them fucking you. You needed to feel them both fuck you, keeping your holes stretched and accessible to them. You needed to be pressed between them as they groped and squeezed and touched every single inch of you.

You needed them so bad, you could have sworn you would die if they didn’t fuck you soon.

“Then be a good girl and listen,” Remus said. “Gonna need to make sure we deal with this properly, okay? Now be a darling and get on your knees, I wanna see Sirius’ cock bulging in that pretty throat of yours.”

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wileys-russo · 8 months

Text

toilet paper party II a.russo x reader

some tooth rotting gf lessi fluff to try and cure all of our post game depression, with a dash of supportive best friend and arsenal icon lotte wubben-moy ofc

toilet paper party II a.russo x reader

"-she's going to blame herself again, it's like the world cup all over again." you sighed quietly to lotte who was sat beside you on the bench, both of you wincing as the ball was smacked away and saved as alessia kicked it, and unfortunately it of course had to be the deciding penalty.

"but she doesn't need to, she kept us in the game she-" lotte tried to justify but with a look from you she fell silent, nodding in agreement. the two of you knew alessia well enough to know that though she shouldn't blame herself, she already would be.

"come on, time to start damage control." lotte sighed tiredly, slinging an arm over your shoulder as the two of you joined the team for the thank you lap and clap.

as much as you wanted to rush right to your girlfriends side to comfort her, crushing defeat already plastered on her face, you knew she needed some time and space. you also knew that you needed to give the rest of the team the opportunity to build up their own relationships with the blonde, and consoling her after a loss though never pleasant was a way for bonds to strengthen.

sure enough katie and lia were quickly plastered tightly to alessia's sides, lia squeezing her shoulder comfortingly as katie was gripping onto the younger girls hands tightly as she talked at her.

you weren't close enough to hear what was being said but you'd known the irishwoman long enough to know she would be doing her very best to remind alessia of all that she achieved this game rather than the one thing she missed.

it made your heart soar to see one half of your life mold with the other so successfully.

both you and alessia had been incredibly nervous for how the team would take the two of you dating when she was signed, with only a handful of them you were the closest to knowing about it prior to the announcement of her signing.

however besides the relentless teasing and jokes about how obviously smitten you were with one another, it had been smooth sailing and your favorite blonde had been welcomed into the team with hugs, grins and open arms.

you'd both of course made a pact about how you'd interact and communicate with one another around the team in professional environments, this was your job and a workplace after all. though as said you were smitten with one another, so some days you were a little less strict about this than others.

it wasn't until you were all in the change rooms after the loss that you finally had the chance to be with alessia, a lot of the team and coaching staff having pulled her aside to try and build her back up. affirming she had nothing to feel bad over, keeping you feeling grateful that your second family had her best interests at heart.

even jonas had taken her one on one and provided some well intended feedback about ways she could approach things a little different next time, and reminded her firmly that penalties were the worst way to decide a game, she had nothing to be sorry or beat herself up for.

after all the majority of the girls, yourself and your girlfriend included, had played in the world cup just over a month ago. and without a pre season there was still a lot of work to be put in before you'd all be up and running as one cohesive unit, and now at least you had the time to focus on that if you had to draw one positive from all of this.

however the break of time in between the final whistle and the team huddle to now the change room debrief had given you and lotte some valuable time to brainstorm ways you could try to cheer the blonde up, and you almost had a plan in motion.

half the girls had already filed out of the room and headed for the bus, or were spending a little time talking to the dwindling group of fans waiting eagerly by the exit, you all had around forty minutes until you were scheduled to depart.

you didn't say anything as you sat beside your girlfriend on the bench by her locker, the striker clearly lost in her own thoughts as she jumped slightly when she felt your warm hand land gently on her knee.

still nothing needed to be said as your eyes softened and hers conveyed utter defeat and exhaustion, long blonde hair slightly damp from the quick shower she'd taken in an attempt to wash away the immense guilt wracking her body.

your lips curled into a half smile seeing she'd tugged on your travel hoodie, having stolen it out of your kit bag as you were side tracked whispering away in the halls outside with lotte.

your smile only widened when your girlfriend wordlessly dropped her travel shirt and hoodie in your lap for you to put on later, the blondes head coming to slump on your shoulder as her long arms wrapped lazily around your torso.

you grabbed one of her hands with yours, intertwining your fingers and lovingly brushing your thumb against her knuckles. your other hand rubbed circles into the small of her back and you felt her body heave a long and tired exhale as she crumpled into you.

"i'm really proud of you lessi, i hope you know that." you whispered to her quietly, sharing a small smile with katie and jen as they walked past the two of you, the older girls looking on somewhat proudly seeing your girlfriend curled into your side as you were obviously trying to comfort her.

though it also must have looked quite awkward given the striker was a good foot or two taller than you, and you knew if she stayed in this position for too long she'd be rewarded with a stiff neck and back tomorrow.

"my golden goal scoring girl." you mumbled sincerely, the blonde squeezing your intertwined hands in a silent thank you before pulling herself up. "have a quick shower and i'll meet you on the bus tesoro." the italian nodded behind her to the showers before pressing a short but sweet kiss to your lips, grabbing her belongings and heading out of the change room with lotte.

showered and changed you felt an immediate and immense sense of calm settle over you as you clutched at the red material and inhaled deeply, senses drowned in the comforting aroma of your girlfriend.

sweet notes of lavender and bergamont from her favorite body mist that was used every game day, as well as the more subtle hints of green apple and roses from her shampoo. due to your height difference your body was swallowed in your girls shirt and hoodie, but you never minded.

given that for the majority of your relationship you'd been doing distance in some way with playing for different clubs, only really having proper quality time in the off season or during national camps. the ease and comfort of stealing one anothers clothes had become tradition, and it felt like a warm hug from the taller girl anytime you wore something that you knew was hers.

noticing you were one of the last to leave you hurried to collect and pack your belongings, tripping over caitlin's boots she'd left behind you grabbed them with a roll of your eyes and headed out of the stadium.

you took a few quick pictures and flashed a pearly white smile with a soft thank you to the last few fans hanging around before ascending the steps of the bus.

you couldn't help but laugh quietly at the scenes before you. beth was as usual on her karaoke machine, clearly trying to up everyone's moods by belting out an incredibly tone deaf version of river deep mountain high as she danced her way up and down the aisles.

some of the team were clapping along in encouragement while others had headphones on and were tucked away in their own world, clearly reflecting on the match that had been and what it now meant for you all as a team.

though beth seemed to respect this and only engaged with those who seemed willing participants of her chaos.

"you'd forget your head if it wasn't attached to your body foordy." you teased the australian as you offered up her boots, the girls eyes widening as katie cackled beside her and she elbowed the irish woman before accepting the boots, stating over and over that she owed you one which you playfully affirmed you'd not forget.

the smile remained on your face as you spotted alessia halfway down the bus, sat in front of lotte and across from viccy and cloe. the striker was chatting away to the small group with a much more relaxed demeanor, small smile on her face as she seemed in decent spirits.

her features brightened as she noticed you making your way toward her, of course wearing her hoodie.

"i didn't know we were allowed to change our numbers y/l/n? 23 now are you?" viccy teased, instantly noticing you were wearing your girlfriends clothes as you flipped her off, shuffling past alessia and dropping down into the vacant window seat beside her.

"my favorite 23." alessia turned her head and murmured quietly with a smile, kissing your cheek fondly as she tugged your legs to drape over hers.

"whose wearing my missing shoes too it would seem." she shot you a knowing look as admittedly you might have previously lied about not knowing the whereabouts to the adidas trainers, which were a favorite pair of the blonde.

"good news, i found them!" you smiled innocently, head thumping back gently against the window as you turned your body more to the side to get comfortable.

a few more minutes of chatter among you all and everyone had boarded, beth finally ceasing her verbal abuse to your ears in the form of her singing, instead joining lia, gio, frida and lina in a heated game of blackjack.

the engine roaring to life the bus was to take you back to the hotel where you'd all pack and have dinner together before heading off to germany tonight on a late night flight.

"can i ask a stupid question?" you asked your girlfriend quietly once everyone else had settled and she nodded, her attention now focused back solely on you as she absentmindedly traced shapes on your bare legs which laid in her lap, goosebumps arising along your tanned skin at her gentle touch.

"how are you feeling baby?" you asked somewhat cautiously, knowing it was stupid considering the loss you'd all just taken. "can i get back to you on that a little bit later love?" alessia replied with a somewhat pained smile as you nodded reassuringly, a comfortable silence falling between the two of you as she offered you one of her airpods.

you both busied yourself making a shared playlist for the flight later tonight, already having chosen to sit next to one another as you'd opted to sit with other team mates on the flight to sweden, and given the late time of night you both knew you'd likely want to sleep during the journey.

you glanced down to your phone in your lap as lotte sent you an influx of messages, confirming everything seemed to be moving along well for your little plan to lift alessia's spirits even more.

you poked your head over the top of your seat and gave her a thumbs up when your girlfriend wasn't looking, and before you knew it the bus had pulled into the hotel.

you both took your time getting off, allowing those who were in a rush to hurry forth as you dawdled, chatting with lia as the older girl dropped down into the seat in front of the two of you.

but once you were finally all off and had grabbed your belongings, the plan begun to come into affect.

"hey russo! come play a few rounds of cards in our room." katie called from a few feet away once you strode into the hotel lobby, an offer which though was sincere, was also set up by you and lotte to give the two of you a little alone time.

"come on, i heard the united girls had some sort of a poker cult going. let's see what you're made of then!" the irish woman grinned teasingly at the striker who hesitated and glanced toward you by her side.

"go on baby, she needs the humbling." you encouraged softly, poking her sides as she nodded with a soft smile, kissing your cheek and hurrying off after katie who subtly gave you a thumbs up behind the strikers back before disappearing into the elevator.

"we'll do it in my room in case she comes to yours looking for you, katie just said she'll try to keep her occupied for about a half hour or so. then we have a few hours till dinner!" lotte recounted as you nodded along and the two of you headed up toward her and alessia's shared room.

again with it being both of your first away games you and your girlfriend had opted not to room with one another, again giving her the chance to bond a little more with the team and not flaunt your shared relationship in everyone's face.

"okay, operation toilet paper party is a go." "lots that is not the name we agreed upon." "maybe, but you have to admit operation cheer up lessi just doesn't have the same catchy ring to it." "whatever you say wubben-moy."

it was down to the wire but the two of you just managed to pull it off, giving a satisfied nod at your efforts as katie messaged to say alessia was on her way back to her room as you'd planned, jen informing her that you were doing some media before dinner to assure she didn't head to yours looking for you.

"ready?" lotte mouthed and you nodded as you both watched the light click from red to green as alessia swiped her card in the door, pushing it open.

"congratulations lessi!" you and lotte both yelled loudly with a cheer, alessia jumping and clutching at her chest in shock from the sudden unexpected fright.

though once the messy hastily cut up homemade confetti came raining down upon her, her face morphed into a slightly confused smile, which only widened seeing the rushed half hazard toilet paper hung around the room as makeshift streamers.

"what is all this?" alessia asked with a small laugh of surprise.

"it's a toil-" lotte started as you elbowed her sharply with a firm look. "it's for you. a congratulations you scored your first goal for arsenal and are currently the leading goal scorer of the team with two epic goals that kept us in the game party!" you rambled out in one breath.

"i tried telling her the name was too long, but we both know how stubborn she is." lotte sighed dramatically with an eye roll making alessia laugh. "hey!" you frowned in offence, shoving the taller bruntte lightly.

"but regardless, congratulations!" you and lotte gave another cheer, throwing your other handfuls of confetti though with yours was done with poor aim as it landed in the blondes face.

"sorry." you whispered with an apologetic wince, taking a step forward and plucking off a few stray pieces of confetti which had stuck to mouth.

"guys." alessia breathed out, biting her bottom lip as a few tears welled up in her bright baby blue eyes. "hey don't cry! this is a happy moment, something to celebrate. that second goal was a worldie less." lotte assured with a soft smile.

"yeah baby you crushed it. and its only our second game! the droughts been broken and the flood gates are open and you're going to be a goal scoring machine." you affirmed, lotte nodding along in eager agreement.

"a force to be reckoned with!" "the italian stallion." "the russonator!" "the golden boot goddess." "taking names and kicking goals!"

your girlfriend let out a half sob half laugh at the assortment of nicknames, reaching out to the both of you for a hug which you both gladly allowed her to pull you into, lotte rubbing her back as you kissed her cheek.

"you're both the best. thank you!" alessia smiled, clearly overwhelmed with emotion as you reached up to tenderly wipe away her tears with the sleeve of your hoodie, making lotte aww as you rolled your eyes.

"oh and we have snacks! because what toilet paper party doesn't have snacks." lotte remembered, gesturing to the somewhat strange assortment of food laid out on the coffee table.

"lotte that is not the name we agreed on!" you huffed with a frown at her words, alessia tugging you into her and kissing the side of your head affectionately with a quiet laugh, mumbling how much she loved you in your ear.

"we don't technically know what most of it is. stina sort of went door to door collecting for us from everyones mini bar, and she said they all taste good!" lotte shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck as you all surveyed the swedish treats in front of you.

"we have a couple hours before dinner to snack, we have pitch perfect loaded and we grabbed extra pillows from reception so we can be extra comfy." you explained, alessia crumbling internally at how much obvious thought and care had been put into this.

"correction she stole some extra pillows from reception." lotte teased as you stuck your tongue out and the girl excused herself to use the bathroom, encouraging you both settle in and begin the movie.

"well hi." you mumbled against alessia's lips with a laugh as the striker pulled you into a searing kiss the moment lotte closed the bathroom door. "babe!" you laughed again as she easily picked you up, wrapping your legs around her waist as she bear hugged you as tight as she possibly could.

"i love you so very much lessi baby, you're amazing. you know that right?" you cupped her face and pressed your forehead to hers, reaching out to gently swipe away a loose tear which carved its way down her cheek.

"i can't-baby i don't know what to say." alessia managed to stammer out, still overcome with a waterfall of emotions. "you don't have to say anything, i just want you to feel supported and appreciated. without you coming on and changing the game we wouldn't have even stood a chance yeah? you alessia mia teresa russo are brilliant."

"god i'm so fucking in love with you." the blonde breathed out, eyes burning with a loving passion, the taller girl admiring you as if it was the first time she'd ever laid eyes on you.

"aw i love you both too!" lotte clapped sarcastically, throwing a pillow at the two of you with a groan and collapsing onto the bed as alessia placed you back down on your feet.

the two of you soon joined her, opening some of the swedish snacks as lotte clicked play on the movie.

"cheers to a successful toilet paper party!" "lotte for the one hundreth time that is not what we agreed on calling it!" "hey i don't know amore mio it is the first toilet paper party i've ever been to but it seems successful." "alessia! don't encourage her, whose side are you on?" "best toilet paper party ever!" "i simply cannot stand either of you."

#woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #engwnt #alessia russo #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #alessia russo imagine #lotte wubben moy #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #awfc x reader

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ky-yk · 10 months

Text

delicate (hyj x f!reader)

genre: fluff || word count: 2.1k

author’s note: this is me trying (no pun intended) to manage my expectations and also stop my delusions in their wake, hope y’all enjoy ✊😔

war was over.

after fighting valiantly and shedding blood, sweat, tears, and your cold hard cash, you finally got to reap the fruits of your labor as you settled into your seat for taylor swift's concert in singapore.

you took it all in: the sea of seats slowly filling up, the excited chatter of swifties and casual fans alike, and just the entire scale of the production.

that didn't mean you weren't logical, though.

"goddamn, i'm far," you muttered to yourself in disbelief as you shook your head and took your phone out to pass the time. even while you were focused on your phone, you could vaguely make out the people settling into the seats around you out of the corner of your eye.

as time drew closer to 7 pm, you felt someone plop into the seat beside you, chest heaving and clearly exhausted from the rush. you turned to give her a once over: bucket hat pulled so far down her face you wonder how she even made to her seat, masked up to add to the air of mystery, but dressing to the nines yet so effortlessly. they're a swiftie, what'd i expect, you thought to yourself.

striking brown eyes, that's what.

your seat mate must've noticed your gaze on her as she looks up at you like a puppy, her eyes barely peeking out from under her hat. it's when she raises her hat up a little bit that you see her big brown doe eyes staring straight into yours, and you start questioning if you cured cancer in your past life because what do you mean i sit next to this beauty for a whole concert??

you notice that she’s trying to tell you something, but she might as well have said nothing because there was no way she could overpower the blasting speakers and the ruckus of the crowd. you raised your eyebrows as if to ask her to repeat herself. she shook her head with a smile as she leaned forward, which you took as a sign to do the same.

“i’m sorry for disturbing you, by the way,” your seatmate says sheepishly. but all you could do was stare dumbly at her as you try to process what the hell was happening.

okay what the hell not only does she dress well but she’s pretty AND she has a raspy voice?! lord god if you took me right here right now i wouldn’t be complaining, this is a lovely way to die.

“um, you alright there?”

“huh?”

you know maybe i should just die right here.

“oh! oh yeah, i’m alright,” you chuckled, trying to shake off the awkwardness. as she laughs along with you easily, you hope her pillow is always cold at night for choosing to ignore the awkwardness of being stared at.

“anyways, you get here safe?” she asks, trying to make small talk.

as you opened your mouth to reply, you both notice the crowd go wild as the lights go down and a video plays on screen. you look back at your seatmate with an apologetic look as she just shakes her head in amusement.

“looks like the show’s about to begin, huh?” she shouts at you while leaning forward to stand like everyone else in your section to get a better view of the stage. you followed her lead, but only after staring up in awe at your enigma of a seatmate.

you stood on your tippy toes to try to see what was happening on stage. your timing couldn't be more perfect since it just so happened that, at that moment, taylor finally came on stage, prompting everyone to holler and further blocking your view.

how'd you know?

your seatmate's screeches, that's how.

"OH MY GOD IT'S TAYLOR, TAYLOR'S ON STAGE!" she screamed at the top of her lungs as she jumped along with the rest of the crowd.

screamed at you, that is.

she repeatedly slapped your shoulder in excitement as your face morphed from surprise to exaggerated discomfort in a second and you doubled over.

"OW!" you yelled half-jokingly.

she looked at you with wide eyes as she ran her mouth off, held you close, and rubbed your shoulders while apologizing, but those went in one ear and out the other as you turned your head to get a better look at the girl.

her hat must've fallen off while she was jumping around, but you wonder why she was even wearing one in the first place because no one this pretty should be hiding themselves.

no one with long, black, and wavy hair that flowed well past her shoulders and framed her face perfectly should cover that up.

no one with big, brown, and expressive eyes that you could just drown in should have to shield them. they deserve to be put into a museum.

they deserve to be admired.

you snap back to reality when she drops her arms and moves to make some space between you two, and she realizes that you're staring at her, suddenly frantically looking for her hat. you try to stop her in her tracks.

"hey hey, it's alright," you reassure her. "you look really pretty, by the way." she seemed to be taken aback.

"wait do you..." she starts to question before catching herself and instead choosing to say, "oh, um, thank you! you do too, by the way."

"i'm just saying you don't need the hat. i mean, how would you even be able to see taylor?"

she picks her hat off the floor and stares at it long and hard, as if deep in thought.

"you know what? you're right."

she then puts her hat on her chair before turning her attention back to the stage with a smile -- right on time for cruel summer.

as soon as the telltale intro started, she grabbed you by the shoulders again and started jumping around while screaming the lyrics. your eyes widened and your shoulders stiffened at the sudden proximity before you relaxed and just enjoyed the moment, screaming at the top of your lungs with the rest of the crowd.

"I'M DRUNK IN THE BACK OF THE CAR, AND I'M CRYING LIKE A BABY COMING HOME FROM THE BAR, OH!" you both screamed at each other, pointing to each other while using your phones as mics at the same time.

"SAID I'M FINE BUT IT WASN'T TRUE, I DON'T WANNA KEEP SECRETS JUST TO KEEP YOU, AND I," you aggressively pointed at each other at every syllable. you were both stuck in your own little world -- as if you'd known each other your whole lives.

as the show went on, you'd sometimes sneak glances at the girl beside you and smile to yourself as you enjoyed the sight of her just letting loose.

on one occasion, though, she must've felt your gaze on her as she turns to meet yours. you didn't even bother covering it up; there was no saving yourself. you just mirror her bright smile that makes her eyes disappear, hoping this moment would last forever.

then again, all good things must come to an end.

the concert flies by, and the next thing you know, you and your seatmate are seated once again, trying to catch your breath.

you didn't even get to take many pictures because of how much fun you were having.

"wow," she said as she looked up at the ceiling. she then went quiet, as if replaying the events of the night in her head. she shook her head with a smile and turned to look at you before a phone notification soon caught her attention.

a whole slew of them.

you just looked on as she sighed, replying to only one of them before shutting her phone off and giving you her fullest attention with a smile.

"you're quite famous, huh?" you joked. her eyes went wide as the color seemingly drained from her face. "oh no, i just meant that because you had a lot of notifs," you said, trying to save face and reassure her. i wonder why she clams up randomly, you thought to yourself.

you then realize that you may never get the answer to your question. and the thought disappoints you.

what have i got to lose?

you got your phone and switched on your camera, pointing it towards the stage.

"hey," you say, trying to get her attention. you held your hand out in front of the camera in a peace sign, hoping she catches your drift. soon enough, you see another peace sign in front of your camera, and you start to snap away.

afterwards, you turn your peace sign into half a heart, and she does the same.

"let's take a pic together, you and me," you tell her. before she even got the chance to reply, you immediately followed it up. "only if you want to! i don't want to make you uncomfortable, seeing as we're strangers and all--"

she cut off your rambling by plucking your phone out of your hands and switching it to selfie mode. "it's fine..."

"y/n."

"y/n. lovely name for a lovely person,” she remarked. “anyways, you're good. now, come on! my arm's getting tired."

you got into the frame, posing with her and making funny faces before she chuckled and proceeded to airdrop the pictures to herself.

"let's get going?" she asks as she gets up from her seat. you nod and follow her lead out of the stadium.

conversation flows easily between the both of you as you slowly make your way outside, not wanting the moment to end.

soon enough, you made it outside. you turn to face her, bouncing on your heels as you spoke.

"um, i guess this is it."

"yeah, i guess it is."

you open your mouth to take a leap, to make the moment last, but of course it had to be cut short by the honk of a black van that pulled up close to you both.

she looks towards the van. "well, i guess this is me."

you knew you'd regret it if you didn't make a move, so you took your chances.

"wait!"

"hm?" she looks at you expectantly -- and maybe a little hopefully, unless you were deluding yourself.

"i...had a lot of fun tonight, and i'd hate if this were just a one night thing, you know?"

she chuckles in response. "i did too, y/n."

"so...would you want to meet up again soon?"

"i'm not from here, you know."

"neither am i, but who knows what'll happen?" you tried to reason out.

"you make a good point," she resigns.

"how about this: if you can find me after tonight, then we can go out."

"deal!" you replied a little too excitedly.

"alright, well, i'll see you around, y/n," she says as she moves to get inside her car.

"wait!"

"yes, y/n?"

"i don't even know your name."

"i guess you're right," she says.

she steps into your personal space, close enough that you could get a whiff of her perfume, as she holds your shoulders and leans in to whisper, as if only for you to hear.

"it's jen."

she then pulls away, but not after placing a peck on your cheek. she then steps back.

"have a good night, y/n. get home safe!" she says before ducking to get inside her car.

"bye," you whisper into the night as you watch the car speed off.

you turn around to make your way towards the subway. you check your twitter, going through your timeline before you decided to check the trends. one trend caught your eye, though. "JENJEN," it read. enticed, you clicked on it.

LE SSERAFIM's Huh Yunjin spotted at Taylor Swift's The Eras Tour in Singapore. attached to the tweet were pictures of your seatmate waiting in line and standing around in her bucket hat.

you stopped in your tracks, eyes wide, as you continued to scroll down, seeing tweets from what appeared to be kpop stan accounts.

so glad to see our resident swiftie enjoying her life AS SHE SHOULD

is she a ninja or smth bc how did none of us notice she was gone

why do u need to know where she is all the time smh 🙄

she looks like she had a lot of fun, thank u sg fearnots for not crowding her!

huh yunjin, huh?

you jumped over to instagram as you kept walking to the subway station to search her name up. clicking on the first account you saw, you realized that your seatmate was a celebrity.

you clicked on the big blue follow button and watched it turn into two separate buttons: following and message. you clicked on the latter button.

itsy/n: found you

itsy/n: 1 image attached.

#🐻 — ky writes #girl group imagines #huh yunjin #le sserafim #huh yunjin x reader #lesserafim imagines #lesserafim x reader #yunjin #lesserafim yunjin #yunjin x reader

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yandere-daydreams · 11 months

Note

For context, imma give you a little Spider-Man 2099 fact from the Spider-Man comics if you didn’t know about it already.

Before becoming Spider-Man, Miguel was injected by this drug called Rapture, a super addictive drug with really bad withdrawal symptoms, like you will feel like dying without taking it constantly symptoms. He was the top geneticist for Alchemax and he wanted to quit but the cooperation wouldn’t allow that, so they injected him so that he would have no choice but to be reliant on them and continue to work for them since they were the only ones that were distributing rapture. (It was actually due to him getting his spider abilities that he was cure; he had his DNA rewritten with spider DNA so he’s technically genetically half spider).

So basically Miguel injects you with rapture. So predictably you become more and more difficult, as he puts it. One day he offhandedly shows you a little vial in his lab that was used to turn him into Spider-Man, he drops little hints here and there that it’s what cured him of rapture. So it’s no surprise to him that you start acting so docile and pleasant soon after, your attempt to lower his guard are welcomed when he gets to cuddle you. So he lets you sneak into his lab when you think he’s away on a mission. It’s when you take the vail and inject yourself do your hopes for freedom start to dwindle when you feel a broad chest on your back and a pair of fans in you neck the next second. While the contents in the vail cured you of rapture, he also made it so that it acts as an aphrodisiac when it’s mixed with DNA; (injections of any sort are the fastest way to get anything going through your system, so the Miguel-activated-aphrodisiac binds with your cells really fast when you first inject it into your system), so whenever he bites you, your cells react almost immediately to his DNA and it turns into any season is mating season, Aka Miguel never beating the vampire allegations.

Ah sorry for the messy writing, English isn’t really my strong suite but you get the picture.

tw - dub//con, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, manipulation through drug addiction.

oof,,, miguel knows first-hand how devastating rapture can be, so i'd like to think that he injected you with it in a moment of desperation, just thinking about the high and the wanting and how badly he needs you to give into him, even if he knows you'll be twice as difficult once the withdrawal hits. his plan to splice your dna, to cure you the only way he knows someone can be cured of a rapture addiction is an act of mercy in his mind, too. he can't keep you high and strung out forever, so he lets you believe there's an antidote, lets you think that he doesn't suspect anything when you suddenly start behaving and treating him like the hero he wants to be, rather than the captor he is, lets you sneak out of his bedroom in the middle of the night and into his lab, where his 'rapture cure' was conveniently left in plain-sight beside a syringe gun already prepared for injection. he lets you think that your alright, now, that you've escaped the worst thing he's ever done.

and then, he drives his fangs into your neck, holding you close as you go through the motions, as you realize that your body's reaction to him isn't something you can drown out with terror and loathing and fear, anymore. you haven't been cured, he just replaced one addiction with another and now, you're as reliant on him as he is on you. it's not love, but it feels close enough as you claw at his chest and pant against his neck, as you promise to behave and to follow his rules and to do whatever he wants, as long as he takes care of you. as you promise to love him, as long as he takes care of you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere spiderverse

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headkiss · 1 year

Text

gotcha

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you and steve spend every holiday together. this halloween is the most memorable, though. using the prompt “i bet you won’t manage to scare me tonight”

word count: 3.7k

warnings: loads of fluff, friends to lovers shenanigans, a haunted house, and a kiss!

a/n: this is for the lovely @sparklingsin spookinktober and i hope u guys like it!!!! baby’s first writing challenge :,)

༄

You were a fan of tradition. Especially if Steve was involved.

He knows that you love any holiday, that you look forward to them months in advance. What he doesn’t know is that that’s because of him. Your best friend, your person, the boy you love.

You have yet to tell him that last one.

The two of you did something for every holiday; Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, The Fourth of July. Name the occasion, you and Steve had a tradition. Even now, as the October wind bites your skin, a chill only cured by the warmth of Steve beside you, you’re spending Halloween with him.

It originally started when he was somehow roped into becoming some sort of babysitter for Dustin, Will, Lucas, and the rest of them. And, because you went where he went, you were a babysitter then, too. They’d begged for you guys to take them trick or treating, saying that everyone else was busy when you knew it was just because they knew Steve could never say no to them.

No matter how much he wanted to.

The kids had done their research and found the best houses to trick or treat at, the best candy to receive. You and Steve were only there to chauffer and to give their parents peace of mind. It had gone on for years. Until now, that is.

When you and Steve asked them what the plan was, they all met you with blank stares. “We’re too old for that now,” Dustin said like it was obvious.

“Yeah. We’re in high school, come on,” Mike added.

And that was that. You and Steve were forced to create a new tradition. One that was just you and him and Halloween. As much as you loved those kids, you’d never complain about time alone with Steve. Never.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve felt the exact same way. His feelings might’ve been even stronger. He was completely taken by you, had been for years. It seemed like every single person in Hawkins knew it except you.

You were there for him, with him, through everything. Through the fallout with Nancy and his ex-friends (who you hated, but you knew who Steve really was without them, so you stuck around). Through school and his parents’ absence. Through his failure to get into college and the expectations of his father.

Everything.

You were the one constant in his life. Never-changing, forever his favorite person.

You managed to talk him into doing a couple’s costume with you, despite your status remaining as ‘just friends.’ You were a lover of musicals and it was easy to convince Steve to be the Danny to your Sandy. The outfits you chose were those from the end of the movie, your legs wrapped in leather pants and hair done using Steve’s Farrah Fawcett spray. His secret weapon only you, and now Dustin, know about.

The two of you walked together around Hawkins, admiring costumes and each other. You had Steve’s old letterman jacket on your shoulders. You’d argued that it wasn’t part of the costume, he told you it was cold. Which was true. Plus, it smelled like him, so you put it on.

“I bet you won’t manage to scare me tonight, Stevie,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

Without fail, every Halloween, he would, in fact, manage to scare you. He had to get creative with it sometimes, involving some of the kids or bribing a random passerby. It was a challenge for him and for you. He wanted to win for the sole purpose of consoling you after your fright.

Hugs and pecks to your forehead. Any type of affection he could give you without raising suspicion, he would find a way to do so.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

“You say that every year,” he says, moving to walk backwards in front of you so you’re face to face. “And I always win, baby.”

Though he used the nickname plenty, its effect never lessened, never shrunk.

“This year’s different.”

“You say that every year, too.” He falls into step beside you again.

“Shut up,” you say, though you don’t mean it. The smile on your face is telling enough.

Your hands brush in between you. Neither of you make the move to hold the other’s.

As you walk in the thick of town, the busiest street booming with kids and parents and families, Steve can’t stop imagining a future with you. He sees a mom and dad holding their son’s hands, swinging him as they walk, he thinks of you and him and every what if.

What if he told you he was in love with you, what if you loved him back. What if he kissed you, what if he made you his girl, officially. What if, what if, what if.

Steve doesn’t like to think about the future, but he can’t help it when you’re around. For him, you’ll always be a part of what’s to come. His constant, his favorite.

You hold his attention in a vice grip whenever you’re around him, often even when you aren’t, and you have no idea.

That attention shifts, however, when you stop walking and grab his arm so he does, too. He looks at your face, looking for what might be wrong but you aren’t looking at him, you’re looking just ahead, where a little girl in a princess costume stands alone.

You stopped Steve because you didn’t want to just walk past her, and you also wanted to figure out what exactly to do. He was quicker, though, and stepped towards her slowly.

“Hey, sweetie,” he approaches her with gentleness and the warmest smile. “Are you lost?”

The little girl blinks at him where he’s now crouched down to be at her level, her eyes watery. “Yes. Can’t find mom.”

As if her saying it out loud scared her, she started to cry fully. You squat next to Steve, sending the girl a reassuring smile though she seems quite content ignoring you in favor of the boy beside you. You can't blame her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says. “We’ll find her, don’t you worry.”

“What’s your name?” You ask her.

“Maggie,” she sniffles.

“Maggie! A name fit for a princess, huh?” Steve turns up his enthusiasm to a hundred. It seems to work when Maggie’s tears slow and a shy smile spreads on her face. “Which way did you come from?”

She points, and you and Steve both stand, offering her a hand each and she takes them.

Steve thinks of the family he saw earlier. He thinks there’s nobody else he’d want with him at that moment other than you.

It’s not long before you spot a frantic woman calling Maggie’s name, and she seems to see you at the same time, relief clear on her face.

“Oh my gosh!” She scoops her daughter up, “where did you go?”

“Not far, found her wandering just over there,” Steve says, gesturing in the direction you came from.

“Thank you guys so much.”

“No worries,” he smiles. “Bye, princess Maggie.”

She laughs and gives him a small wave as her mother carries her off. You watch the interaction with your heart on fire. You knew he was good with kids, of course you did, but you’d never seen him around them that young.

“You’re gonna be a great dad one day,” you can’t stop yourself from saying it. You wholeheartedly believe it.

He can’t explain to you what that comment did to him, what it means. His heart is soaring in his chest and he thinks his vision around you has a glow, an aura strong enough to see. He’s always wanted a family, but he’s terrified of turning out as shitty a parent as the ones he grew up with.

“You really think so, baby?” His gaze is fixed on you even as you walk.

“Are you kidding? You’ll be the best. I just caught a glimpse of it now, Stevie.”

Now, he doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand the next time they brush. He lets his fingers slip between yours, the bumps of your knuckles fit with his like they were built for each other. He gives your hand a squeeze.

You cast your eyes away, shy under his attention. You squeeze his hand back, though.

“Where are we headed anyway?” You ask after a couple minutes of silence. The two of you are comfortable enough with each other to bathe in the company like you would sunlight, to not fill the quiet spaces constantly.

“Well, you said you wanted to be scared,” he pauses for dramatic effect. “So, a haunted house!”

“How scary can a haunted house in Hawkins be?”

“Let’s go find out, baby.”

Your hands are intertwined for the rest of the walk, and you hoped he wouldn't ever let go. You think this Halloween is just a little different, a shift between you and Steve that neither of you acknowledge, but it's there.

It’s a whisper of something more. The lingering touches and soft smiles. The eye contact that lasts just a bit longer than usual.

The space between you is filled with light conversation. It’s easy, it flows naturally. You're certain that has everything to do with Steve.

His focus is always on you when you speak, an excellent listener. He nods or hums along when you tell stories, he smiles encouragingly if he thinks you need it. He looks at you with those brown eyes of his and it’s enough to bring a warmth to your chest. It spreads throughout your whole body.

Steve could listen to you talk for ages. It’s why he calls you so often, the late night ones help him fall asleep. He’ll ask you to read anything to him from whatever book you’re reading to takeout menus. He thinks he makes it pretty obvious that he’s in love with you, but you have no idea.

He doesn't realize that he’s also clueless to how you feel towards him. You’re both too wrapped up in how overwhelming everything is to notice. Overwhelming in a good way. The way that you notice every single tiny thing about each other and you don’t let it go.

You both have sections of your brains reserved for the other. It’s a closet overflowing with memories instead of clothes.

When the haunted house—which is really just the town hall with decorations all over it—is in sight, Steve looks at you and starts making ghost noises. Dork, you think.

“You scared yet, baby?” He asks, leading you up to the ticket vendor, letting go of your hand to buy the tickets and grabbing it as soon as he’s done.

“Oh, for sure,” the sarcasm is evident in your voice. “Shaking in my boots.”

“You can joke for now, but we both know you’ll be hiding behind me as soon as we get in there.” He says, though he rather likes protecting you.

You know he’s right, so does he, so you just send him a smile, a shrug, and walk up to the entrance with him in tow.

He hands your tickets to the doorman, who’s in an actual doorman uniform and zombie makeup, and steps inside first.

It’s mostly dark in the first room, and Steve smiles to himself when he feels your grip on his hand tighten just a smidge. When your free hand wraps around his arm so that you can hide behind his shoulder. Just like he said you would.

The lights flicker enough to illuminate the path you're meant to take. Cobwebs line the walls and eerie music plays, sound effects of screams and monsters and such layered over a spooky backing track.

The first scare happens when you walk past the couch, someone dressed as yet another undead creature jumping out from behind it. It’s enough to make you let out a curse and Steve just laughs. It’s hard for him to be scared when you’re being so cute. Clinging to him like a lifeline.

“Aw, baby,” he coos as you enter the next room. “Scared yet?”

“Nope!” Your voice is higher pitched than normal, the word clipped. “I just love people jumping out at me and yelling in my face, Stevie! It’s my favorite.”

Okay, so maybe you’re a bit scared. And maybe you’re also playing it up just so you can hold on to Steve the way you are. So you’re close enough to smell his soap and his cologne. Something woodsy, something fresh, a hint of something sweet.

You know that Steve won’t settle for ‘just a little’ scared, that he likes to win this little challenge of yours in a very sure way. One that usually ends with a sleepover and a cuddle. He has yet to tell you that that’s his favorite prize. Not the bragging rights, not the sense of victory, just you.

He lets you tighten your grip on him as he leads you deeper into the house. The lighting never gets any better, Steve having to put the arm that you aren’t clinging to out in front of him to make sure he won’t run into anything.

Steve has always been your favorite partner for, well, anything. You think it reigns true for haunted houses just as much. He lets you grip his arm tighter after every scare, your fingernails no doubt leaving crescents indented in his skin. He checks in with you every minute, it seems, making sure you’re okay under the guise of asking that same, “you scared?”

His heart is racing and it’s not because of the jump scares—okay, maybe it partially is—it’s mainly due to your proximity. You're practically squished against his arm and despite being in a haunted house of all places he feels completely surrounded by all things you. Mind, body, and soul.

You’re finally nearing the exit after what feels like hours when you’re sure it’s only been about 20 minutes. Being around Steve has a way of messing up your perception of time, like he controls it. It speeds and slows under his command.

It’s a dark hallway, paintings lining the walls and the wallpaper peeling at the edges. You’ve made it this far without actually screaming, only letting out cusses or telling off the workers in a way that makes Steve laugh every time.

That is, until one of the paintings pops open, right before the exit, and someone jumps out of it.

This time, you scream. You hide behind Steve’s shoulder muttering something along the lines of ‘stupid fucking fake painting.’

When you’re finally outside, spat out the back end of the haunted house, you think you could collapse from how tense you were in there, always anticipating something. You figure Steve’s done with his scaring so you let your guard down.

“Holy shit, that last one really got you, huh baby?” He’s laughing as he says it and you want to both kiss him and slap him for it.

“Shut up! I thought it was over, jerk.”

“I know, I know. C’mere, give Stevie a hug,” he may be teasing you, but you fall into his embrace anyways.

“You’re a meanie. Can’t even let me win one time,” you say, or mumble, more like. Because your cheek is squished against Steve’s chest.

“You know me. Always number one.”

“Do I need to bring up the fact that the Tigers only went to the championship after you graduated?”

“Annnd there goes the moment, you ruined it.” He pulls away from the hug as you laugh, but reaches for your hand. You let him hold it again.

The walk home is more peaceful than the way there. No lost children, the streets are much more empty now as the time has passed.

As always, you and Steve fill the gaps of silence with conversation that comes far too easily. It flows from the both of you so naturally and you know how rare that is. To find someone who makes you feel a hundred percent yourself, no secrets. Besides the fact that you’re in love with him, that is.

“Your shoelace is undone,” you point out.

“‘S fine, we’re not far.”

“You might trip and get hurt, Stevie. Tie it?”

He gives you a look that says ‘really?’

“Please?” You add.

And, well, he can’t say no to you. So, even if he can see his house not too far away, most likely empty and awaiting the both of you, he pauses his steps and bends down to tie his goddamn shoelace.

You’re turned toward him when he stands, and your faces are close, closer than friends should have their faces. He can see every detail and he’s sure you can, too. He can see how pretty you are, how pretty you’ve always been, there in the glow of moonlight and street lamps.

He’s looking at you and he’s sure his feelings are practically spilling out of him with how he sees you and he thinks, how doesn’t she know? How can’t she tell that I love her? Isn’t it written all over my face?

And the answer is yes. Yes, it is. It’s in his eyes and his brows, how they soften and relax when he looks at you. It’s in his lips and his smile, how it widens anytime he’s with you. You can feel the air shift, like something has just clicked and fallen into place. Right now is one of the first times you’ve let yourself think that maybe he does love you, too. Maybe.

But how could someone like him—someone so full of sunshine it burns—ever feel that way about someone as regular as you.

And now you’re inspecting his face far too closely, and Steve thinks you’re going to find out right then that he loves you and as much as he wants that to happen, he’s also scared. Terrified, even. So, he panics.

He slinks off into the trees as soon as you look away long enough, giving you some crap distraction of ‘the most amazing costume he’d ever seen!’

When you turn back around to say something, to give him a light slap on the arm for tricking you, he isn’t there.

You glance around, spinning around in your spot to try and find him. You’re confused because how on earth did he manage to hide so quickly? And why? You were sure something was happening just then until he distracted you.

“Steve?” You call. “You can stop now, you got me!”

The air feels colder without him next to you, you notice. And it’s getting late and the darkness swallows more of the world as time passes, the streetlights the only thing illuminating your path.

“Seriously, Steve. I’m real scared!”

Before you can yell for him again, footsteps come up behind you, a pair of arms wrap around your waist. You scream until you hear that laugh behind you, his laugh.

“You idiot!” You spin in his grasp and push his chest lightly.

“Gotcha, baby.”

He smiles at you and all of a sudden you aren’t angry with him at all. He can scare you all he wants if it means he’ll smile at you like that. Like you’re all he sees. His arms are still around your waist, even though you’re facing him now.

You pout at him, trying to recover from your hazy, lovesick observing, “you already won. That was so unnecessary, Stevie.”

He thinks you look really cute right now, cute enough to kiss and he almost feels bad for scaring you again. Almost. He doesn’t, though, because it ended with his arms around you and your eyes locked on his.

He hates that he panicked a couple minutes ago, but he thinks that he can redeem himself. Maybe now.

“Sorry. You’re cute when you’re pouty, though,” he says, though his grin tells you he isn’t all that sorry.

“Such a meanie.”

His hands shift upwards, over your shoulders, up your neck until he’s cradling your face in his hands. They leave a blazing trail behind, your skin scorched in the best way.

By the placement of his hands, the way he leans in a tad closer, you think he’s going to kiss you. His forehead falls against yours.

“Can I?” He asks, and he’s staring at your lips and you know exactly what he’s asking. You nod, barely a full bob of your head completed before he leans in and does it.

He kisses you.

It feels like a thousand fireworks exploding, a missing piece in you being filled by his lips on yours. A click, everything falling into place. It’s you and Steve in exactly the way you’re meant to be and even though neither of you have said it, you know it’s the promise of something more.

His lips are soft, but his kiss is strong, full of the things he hasn’t been able to say for so long. He’s sure in his movements, his tongue licking against your bottom lip to open you up for him. You do so easily, and you think it’s the most perfect kiss anyone could ask for.

Your heart’s not racing from being afraid anymore. No, that has everything to do with the overwhelming feeling of Steve actually kissing you.

He pulls away when he can feel your breathing get heavier, your chest rise and fall against him. He doesn’t go far, just enough so he can look at your face. So you can look at his.

You’re both fully aware that it means something, that it implies a word that starts with ‘L’ and ends with ‘ove.’

“I’ve been wanting to do that forever,” he says, breathless and way too pretty.

“Me too.”

“Fuck, seriously? You’re telling me we could’ve been kissing for years?”

“Stevie,” you laugh. “It’s okay, we’ve got years ahead, too.”

“You saying what I think you’re saying?”

“If you think I’m saying I love you, then yeah. I am.”

The smile that splits his face is devastating. Boyish and relieved as if he didn’t know for sure what you’d say. He kisses you again, quick but full of emotion just like the one before.

“I love you, baby. Like, a crazy amount.”

Halloween might not have been your favorite holiday beforehand, but it certainly is now. It marks a new beginning, it marks the day you and Steve kissed for the first time. Your story expanding, a new chapter.

“That’s three wins in a night for me.”

“What?”

“Scared you twice: two wins. You love me: another win.”

“Idiot,” you say, though the word has no conviction. You say it as if it’s an endearment.

His constant, his favorite. And you love him back.

༄

if you enjoyed, please reblog! it would mean a lot and i swear it makes a difference :D

#strangertober #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington request #steve harrington requests #steve harrington story #steve x reader #steve harrington imagines #stranger things steve #steve stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things

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devildomditzy · 2 years

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What Petnames they call you

I’ve seen quite a few blogs do this and I just want to throw my personal hc’s in the ring while I work through this writer’s block.

not exactly proof read, so sorry for any grammatical/spelling mistakes! It’s midnight lol.

Lucifer

my immortal Darling. It feels dark, mysterious, and romantic. The way his says it feels vaguely threatening but in a hot way. You feel like you’re dating a vampire.

Dove. Now this one can have a double meaning, depending on how you look at it. On one hand it seems sweet, like he finds you adorable like a little bird. On the other hand he sees you as something to possess, to cage away and own, like a little bird.

Besides those two, there’s not much else. He refers to you as his significant other or other half in conversations with other people, but he likes to keep it fairly straightforward. He much prefers the sound of your name rolling off his tongue.

Mammon

His favorite, of course albeit cheesy, is Treasure. He’s the Avatar of Greed and you’re the most important thing he’s acquired throughout his many, many years. It’s only natural to call ya what ya are!

Next in line would be Doll or Dollface. Not only does it flow with his cadence of speech, but he thinks it fits you perfectly! He’d never admit it out loud, but he loves to dress ya up in whatever cute little outfit he bought you from majolish this week, and he just finds you so adorable. But he’ll also use this one when he wants to be a bit more sultry.

He loves to call you Human when he’s teasing you, or specifically his human. He used the one generally at first around others when he was first assigned as your guardian. Now it’s my human whenever someone decides to get a little bit too friendly with you

He also uses Puppy when he’s teasing you for wanting attention or being needy in bed. You can fight me on this, and you will lose.

Levi

Henry. Yes yes we already know this one but it means a lot to him! It means you’re his best friend and his whole world! It means he can show his endearment through something he is familiar and comfortable with. And! It’s dorky!

He refers to you as his Player Two in the context of being his teammate, or the one person he can count on or wants to partner up with for any specific task. Wherever one goes, the other follows

He has the most trouble calling you Baby. It makes him so flustered! But it’s worth it to see the smile on your face.

Satan

He’s a big fan of Dear. It’s not too sappy and it’s not too flashy. It’s a classic, and he believes it conveys perfectly how he feels out you. There’s nothing in any realm more dear to his heart than you.

He’s read one two many fairytales and now he can’t stop calling you Prince/Princess. He wants to treat you like royalty, and trust that he will. Now if you want to call him your prince, he’ll absolutely melt.

Kitty or Kitten. OKAY LISTEN-

Asmo

Love! It’s short, sweet, and to the point. It embodies everything that he is and everything he sees in you.

He’s the Avatar of Lust, of course he’s gonna call you Sexy, and he does it in the most casual of ways? He’ll call across the hall to you with this nickname, not caring who’s around to hear. He’ll giggle at Belphie call of “gross”, and Levi’s rasp of “normies”

Asmo may call a lot of people Sweetie, but don’t get it twisted, you’re the only person that he calls that and MEANS it. No one can replace you! There’s no one better, other than hiself of course. But you’re okay with that, right Sweetie?

Beel

(oh gosh oh golly here come the food nicknames)

One of Beel’s favorites to cure his sweet tooth is Honey - and there’s on one sweeter than you! It’s like he can combine his two favorite things, food and you!

Babe. A lot of people give this one to Mammon, but I really feel it for Beel. He uses this one a lot in from of his Fangol teammates. As he gets ready to hit the field, he’ll give you a quick kiss before asking, “Will you cheer for me, Babe?”. It’s rhetorical of course, you’re his biggest fan.

Sugar. Okay, can you blame him? The only thing that can rival his gigantic cravings is his massive love for you. Plus, if your nickname is good related, it reminds him how hungry he is, then he can invite you to come snack with him. It’s a win-win!

Belphie

Belphie physically cannot stop himself from calling you Cutiepie. Gosh, he gets of have one of those cherished humans he was so fascinated by all to himself? and you’re just so adorable? He can’t help it when he fawns all over you.

Sunshine. You were the shimmering, beautiful light that pulled him out of the dark place he has hidden himself away in all those years ago. You helped him move on from Lilith, you helped him see the good in humans again, and you helped him see that his brothers really do truly care for him. Now, you are the light that guides him.

He uses Beautiful the most generally. He doesn’t feel embarrassed saying it in front of his brothers, and he gets to compliment you at the same time.

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breelandwalker · 1 year

Text

Sneak Peek - Spoons In Spades

At a little distance he saw a fire, and beside it there sat three giants, busy with broth and beef. They were so huge that the spoons they used were as large as spades, and their forks as big as hay-forks: with these they lifted whole bucketfuls of broth and great joints of meat out of an enormous pot which was set on the ground between them.

- Niels and the Giants (The Crimson Fairy Book)

[img src]

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Intent: To give oneself additional “spoons.”

Ideal Timing: This charm can be made at any time.

Materials:

Spoons

Large Jar

Cotton Balls

Herbs: Hyssop, Rosemary, Thyme, Juniper Berries

When I asked my readers what sort of spells they'd like to see in this second volume of fairytale-inspired spells, one of the most strikingly popular responses was, "Is there a spell to give me more spoons?"

If you're not familiar with the term, "spoons" or spoon theory is a metaphor which describes the reduction in mental and physical energy experienced by people who are disabled or chronically ill, with spoons used as a unit of measurement to represent how energy and motivation must be rationed throughout the day to accomplish necessary tasks. Spoons are only replenished through rest or sleep, so once a person runs out of spoons, that's it for their day.

The term was coined by Christine Miserandino in her 2003 article "The Spoon Theory," in which she uses dinnerware to demonstrate to a friend how living with invisible chronic illness required careful daily planning and prioritization, and how even with the best intentions and efforts, tasks are often left undone due to a lack of energy or an increase in pain. The term has since been adopted by wide sections of the online community in relation to struggles with disability, chronic illness, or mental health, as a descriptor for daily energy and motivation levels, i.e. "I don't have the spoons for this," or "After a full day at work, I have exactly one spoon left, and I need it for laundry, so going out is off the table."

As someone who regularly battles ADHD, anxiety, executive dysfunction, migraines, and depression, I'm a big fan of spoon theory, largely because it makes those invisible daily struggles, which so many of us have, much easier to visualize and explain. So in honor of all my fellow spoonies, here is a spell to help you gain those critical extra spoons.

For this spell, you'll need a fair-sized jar, some healing herbs, and a bunch of spoons. You can use plastic spoons or metal ones, if you happen to have spare silverware lying around. Use as many or as few spoons as you feel you need. If you need more spoons than can readily be acquired, you might draw or print out pictures or spoons and use those instead.

Place the spoons in the jar with a big handful of cotton balls. Apart from their mundane medical and cosmetic uses, cotton has healing magical properties and also represents the comfort that may feel lacking on low energy or high pain days. If desired, add several pinches of Hyssop, Rosemary, Thyme, and Juniper Berries, or a sachet containing the herbs if you'd rather keep things neat.

Close the jar, give it a big hug, and say:

I bless this jar and spoons And ask for the strength to function; And when I need a helping hand, These extra spoons I'll summon,

Set the jar aside somewhere safe. If desired, you might want to label it. You don't want anyone borrowing your magical spoons for their cereal, after all. When you need an extra boost to help you get through the day, simply open the jar and take out a spoon. You can carry the spoon with you, place it on your altar, or discard it to activate the charm.

Please keep in mind that performing this sort of magic should always be accompanied by appropriate medical and self-care measures. Magic isn't going to cure a chronic illness or permanently alter your brain chemistry. But it can help you cope with the symptoms and give you that all-important push to get yourself through the day. Stay strong, witches!

(If you'd like to check out more fairy-tale spells or any of my other published works, please visit the Willow Wings Witch Shop!)

#A gift for all my readers on my birthday - hope you enjoy!#witchcraft #witchblr #spells #spoonie witch #The Sisters Grimmoire II

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galvanizedfriend · 1 month

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KC Wip Wednesday

This is my humble contribution to WIP Wednesday! It's a scene from the rewriting of TVD S5 - Yokan's version. In it, The Originals never happens, most of the Mikaelsons remain in Mystic Falls and Klaus and Caroline are kind of a thing, but nobody knows (for sure). Remember that moment where Katherine locks herself up in a safe with Stefan to "cure" his PTSD? It's that, except it's Klaus, not Katherine. This alludes to a very Klefan past, btw. Be warned if you're not a fan.

Also, this is for @definedareasofuncertainty, who wanted me to write her Easter Klefan. 🤧 There you go, friend! And you know, not beta'ed and all that.

Klaus lies on his back, takes a calm breath as the heavy door is closed with a thud, engulfing them in absolute darkness. All in all, he'd say a metal box is hardly the most uncomfortable setting he's found himself in. He prefers the comfort of first-class accommodations, but he's traveled in worse. The grown man beating about beside him does make things rather unpleasant, though.

"Stop! Caroline! Get me out of here!" Stefan screams, smashing his fists against the iron safe's indestructible structure. The more desperate he gets, the more uncoordinated and weaker his movements become, thus making the effort completely useless, however accomplished in making the experience all the more miserable for him.

It's embarrassing how incapable Klaus is of saying no to Caroline whenever she asks for a favor. Locking himself up in a box with a traumatized Stefan has to be an all-time low. The things he won't do when she bats her eyelashes and says please.

"Oh, stop it," he remarks in a bored tone as he shoves Stefan aside. The old safe is rather spacious, but definitely not enough to comport two men, particularly if one of them won't stop bloody writhing like a worm in hot sand. "The more you scream, the more breathless you become." The more I want to tear your vocal cords to shreds.

"Get me out of here, Klaus, get me the fuck out of here!"

"Relax, Stefan. I'm here to help," he says. "I'm what you would call a greater agony to alleviate the smaller pain you feel being trapped inside the box. It's reverse psychology, or so Caroline read in a book. What do you think of a little werewolf venom high to speed up the process?"

"You're psychotic. You're fucking insane!" Stefan starts pounding on the box again. "Caroline! Caroline, open up! Open it now!"

"I'm sorry, Stefan!" comes her muffled apology. Even through the metal barrier she sounds thick with guilt. It was her idea, but already she's cracking. That bleeding heart of hers… "I'm sorry, I will -"

"Do not touch that box, Caroline," he commands with his full authority. "Leave it."

There's a long pause, the sound of Stefan's heart hammering away inside his chest in the box as they wait to see what she'll do. A beat goes by before she mumbles a final sorry and scurries away, likely to avoid the temptation of putting poor Stefan out of his misery.

Klaus' lips pull into a grin. "Good girl."

Stefan starts shaking beside him, his breath becoming even more labored. "I can't breathe," he gasps. "I can't - I can't -"

"You don't need to breathe, Stefan. It's all in your head," Klaus reminds him pointedly. "A vampire having a panic attack, honestly. When you think you've seen everything…"

"You're not fucking helping!"

"Pardon me. My bedside manners have gone a little rusty since the last time you've experienced them." Klaus casts Stefan a glance, sees the way his eyes widen in horror, his body growing stiff as a rod, and he can't contain the self-satisfied smile that draws across his lips. "We did once find comfort in each other's company, didn't we?" Stefan makes another panicked sound, smoothing his hands across the cold metal door above them, trying to find a way out. Klaus chuckles. "Don't worry, mate. Caroline can't hear us. Your sordid little secret is safe with me. It's just us here, alone under the cover of darkness. Nothing we haven't done a dozen times in the past. Ahh, the 20s…" he speaks around a dramatic sigh. "It was the roaring years, indeed."

"What are you doing?"

"Making conversation."

"I don't want to talk to you, I especially don't want to talk about that." Stefan nearly chokes on the last word, inching as far away from Klaus as the confined space will allow, as though the mere idea of touching him fills him with utter revulsion. Klaus knows better; it's the way he remembers exactly how it didn't what terrifies him.

Anybody who's met this watered down, colorless version of Stefan would never be able to tell how much of a free spirit he used to be. He was fun. A far cry from the shivering man beside him now. Tragic, really.

"I know you like to pretend it never happened. Frankly, you've become quite an embarrassment of your former self, so I wouldn't proudly advertise it either. This bunny-eating, crying in the dark skin you're wearing these days is someone is wouldn't be caught fraternizing with if you were the last human being on earth."

"Then leave me the fuck alone already."

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm not here for you," he snaps back. And then, putting a leash on his rising temper, he continues, "But since I have to be… I can recognize that there was something about that time we had together that suited us both, more than just for the obvious reasons."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. I was a tool for you."

"A tool for self-destruction."

Klaus huffs out a disdainful breath. "I was a balm to your tortured soul, Stefan, even at a time when you embraced your true self. I indulged you because you amused me, but at the end of the day, when we were together, it was all rather transactional. It wasn't about sentimentality or a shared appreciation for extravagance. It was about the hollow inside us. The fact we were always desperately seeking to fill it with… Anything, really. Whatever we could find. Passions. Pleasure. Violence. Cravings. But it never lasted, did it? Those things lack a purpose. They're all flitting in their essence, an immense explosion of satisfaction followed by… Nothing. We were both hungry, and we kept trying to find the thing that would sate us. You had lost your mind; I had lost my home. Like drawn to like." Klaus turns his face to Stefan, finds him staring back, eyes glinting with an emotion he can't quite read in the gloom. He always did fancy Stefan's eyes, though. There is something raw about them, something honest for a change. A little opening to the truth in his soul he tries so hard to hide from the outside world. "That's what the darkness is, Stefan," he continues. "Loneliness. It's what restrains us. The monster we cannot outrun. When it all stops - the laughter, the liquor, the hunger - and everything goes quiet around us, that's when we feel it. The curse of eternity. The weight of our years, deep in our bones. And the inevitable loneliness that comes with it. You had your names on the wall, I had my letters, but when all was said and done… We were both stuck in infinite darkness. Except for a few glorious stolen moments, in that repulsive room of yours." The corner of his mouth pulls up into a lopsided smile. "I was the bigger monster you needed in order to humanize yourself. Whatever you were, I was worse, and so I assuaged your guilt. Much like me being here right now. But then of course you found religion!" He laughs, closing his eyes and facing forward once more. "Your spiritual path towards the light. Elena Gilbert." He enunciates the name like it's coated in something toxic. His general distaste for Elena goes further than the fact she has thwarted so many of his plans. It's the boring saint act he cannot get over.

"Yes," Stefan says, his voice rough. "And then I lost her."

"Right. Because she chose your brother." Klaus chuckles. Stefan shifts uncomfortably beside him, the urge to hit him palpable in the air. It only spurs Klaus on. "How so very tacky. No taste, that one. Personally, I think there's no amount of blue eyes or good sex that can make Damon tolerable. What a wanker. I just want to bash his face against a wall whenever he opens his mouth."

Stefan scoffs. "Get in line."

"It's ironic, isn't it? You were at your absolute best behavior, weeding out all of your instincts, everything that made you fun and interesting in order to fashion yourself into a fairy tale prince for her, and what does she do? She chooses the dullard bad boy. Typical." Klaus shakes his head. "Ungrateful little -"

"Shut up."

"Martyr," he finishes with a smirk. "She probably thinks she's going to fix him, doesn't she? I bet he encourages it. But that's the difference between you and Damon, isn't it? Even with all your valiant efforts, you know creatures like us cannot be fixed. We're beyond salvation."

He gets a sudden twinge in his chest, an image flashing in his mind. A smile as bright as the sun. Hair the color of wheat. He sees her shifting under his sheets, feels the warmth of her touch, the brush of her rosy lips against his skin. It ignites a sense of joy inside him unlike anything else, a sense of possession, of belonging, of having found something that is far more precious or rare than any of the hundreds of treasures he's collected over the course of his life. But along with it comes the ever-present fear. Of loss. How long before he ruins her, like he's ruined everything else he's ever cherished? How long before he hurts her, even if he doesn't mean to? Before his darkness tarnishes her and kills that smile? Before she decides he's not worth it?

"How do you make yourself worthy?" he asks, the question tumbling out of his as though of their own accord. "How do you earn the affections of someone so…"

"Good?" Stefan finishes for him, reading his thoughts. "With sunshine and rainbows shining out of their eyes? Someone like, say… Caroline?" Klaus goes quiet, all his humor bleeding out of him in a second. "You don't," Stefan answers his own question. "You'll never be good enough for her, Klaus. Just like I was never good enough for Elena. Not really. The truth is they deserve much better than the two of us." He sighs, deflating with resignation next to Klaus. "I guess we did make quite a pair, you and I."

"Then perhaps we should die together," he says with an edge of aggression, his mood taking a sudden downturn. He's suddenly irritated. With Stefan, with this ridiculous situation, with himself for agreeing to that. "You and I, in a box, at the bottom of a quarry. Over and over again, drowning in suffering for all our sins and the women we don't deserve. How about that?" Silence stretches out between them, absolute. There's no response from Stefan, but there's also no pounding pulse, no disgruntled breaths. "Oh, look," he says dispassionately. "Someone's not having a panic attack anymore. Congratulations. You've conquered your fears. All you had to do was remember there are worse things than dying."

Klaus gives one violent kick on the door, sending it flying off its hinges. He pushes himself up, stepping out of the safe.

Caroline comes whooshing in, eyes wide as she takes in the state of the safe, the way Stefan is still down, cowering from the sudden burst of luminosity.

"What did you do to him?" she demands.

Klaus' mouth inches upward into the barest hint of a grin, no mirth whatsoever. "I fixed him."

#klaroline #klefan #yokan writes #wip wednesday #this is a very klaroline rewriting though you probably can't tell from this one scene #i'll probably never write this but i liked the idea #SIGH

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cerise-on-top · 2 months

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hi<3 if you can, can you do valeria and laswell with a gothic s/o? like someone who likes darker/morbid things and things like that! love your blog by the way! it’s definitely my favorite blog to come look at after a long ass day <333

Hey there! Sorry, but I couldn't really find too much on what counts as dark and morbid in the goth scene, so I wrote more general HCs, I hope that's alright still ^^;

Valeria and Laswell with a Gothic!S/O

Valeria: She’d most definitely be intrigued, but not too much. In all honesty, she doesn’t know too much about the subculture, she’s never really met a goth who was clearly one. However, if it makes you happy, that’s all that matters to her. While she won’t really know too many bands, or any at all, she’d be more than happy to listen to a few if you want her to. Yes, she won’t always have the time, but when she isn’t too busy she could put on some songs by Joy Division or The Cure, she really doesn’t mind. She can vibe to that sort of music, even if it isn’t her favorite. You’re more than welcome to discuss the literature with her, though. She’s probably never read a single gothic literature book, but she can buy you some. Anything from poetry to a regular novel, it’s quite alright. While she won’t be the best person to go to when it comes to discussing those, she’ll support you either way. However, something she could definitely enjoy would be going clothes shopping with you. The fashion is kind of nice, she has to admit, so she’d be more than happy to buy you whatever garments you desire. Will go out of her way to find something you might like as well. I can’t see her being too much into the history of goth culture, though. It’s nice that you are a goth, if you want to tell her about it, then you can and she’ll listen to you, but she likely doesn’t have the time to research everything by herself. Tell her about its roots and she can definitely appreciate you going against what’s mainstream and how it all came to be. She’s a very defiant and rebellious woman herself, so she definitely gets it.

Laswell: She knows so many people, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has worked with goths before. And even if she hasn’t directly, she’s likely seen quite a few walking around the city. She usually grows worried for them in summer since their attire is black, which makes it quite hot. However, she’d be very intrigued by you and your subculture. It’s something very near and dear to you, so she would put in the effort to learn about your history. Will give some classic bands a listen as well. She just really wants to have something to talk about with you. Besides, she gets to learn more about you. While she may not be the biggest fan of your interest in death, considering she’s surrounded by it more often than not, she’d be more than happy to indulge anything else it has to offer. Laswell spent a good chunk of life left alone with her thoughts, so she definitely knows a thing or two about melancholy, the state of the world and introspection. Maybe not in the same way you do, but she can definitely keep up in a conversation. She’s likely also unintentionally read some of the more popular gothic novels out there and liked them, so she’d make for a good discussion partner as well. While she doesn’t particularly understand the need to make your face completely white, she doesn’t mind. In fact, she thinks it looks quite cool, even if it’s not for her. However, the fashion in and of itself looks really good to her. Again, she wouldn’t want to wear it, but something about Victorian and Edwardian fashion has a certain something to it that she can’t quite place. Like Valeria, she’ll definitely buy you things she thinks you might like. Anything from a suit or a corset to a book about poetry. Beware, though, she will read the books before you can.

#cod #cod x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #I am so incredibly tired so I'm sorry if this is bad #the day I'm writing this is Monday and I worked for nine hours today which wasn't very fun #I'll be working for nine hours tomorrow again and I'm not looking forward to that but I need that overtime #I've never met a goth before so I don't even know anyone I could ask about it #I know an emo or two but that's not the same #still I gave the music a listen and I gotta say it sounds pretty good #I can see Valeria indulging you in your morbid things though. if you collect animal bones she can definitely acquire some #whether it be through roadkill or ethically killed animals #Laswell wouldn't be too big of a fan of having bones at home but she won't stop you either #she'll just tell you to keep them somewhere she won't necessarily have to see them all the time #she's not squeamish but she prefers to not think about death too much outside of work. she gets enough of it on the daily #Laswell would be more media literate than Valeria though. she's definitely analyzed some poems for fun when she was younger #Valeria doesn't have the time to read too much into something. or read a book at all. a poem maybe but that's it she won't read into it

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thedepthsoffandomminds · 2 months

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The Guest. - one

Jack Dawkins x reader. Completed 25 parts fic masterlist

Request: Hey! I have an amazing idea! How about a Jack Dawkins x doctor!reader story, and yes I would like her to be a sick person (same sickness as Belle) and she was finding a cure for herself, but she is from the future, like in the 2000s, if you want it to be 2023 or 2024, and she somehow cam to the 1850s and she and Jack gradually fell in love and a bit of jealous Jack because Sneed also fell in love with her, not Belle but she doesn't like him. And She is close friends with Belle, who is also trying to help in finding the cure for her and the reader and Belle got a job in the hospital together, she got taken in by Belle's father since she didn't have a home in the 1850s. You can write in the beginning that the reader only watched like 5 episodes of the Artful dodger and didn't know the cure yet. Thank you! (This is a long description 😂)

Sitting alone in your small studio apartment you flick off your TV after almost fully binge watching a new show. Your work friend had recommended it after finding out you were a Dickens fan. At first you weren't sure, could they really do it justice yet here you were five episodes in and hooked. Unfortunately you had to go to work. You had a night shift at the local hospital. Night shifts for you often felt easier, not the work exactly; there were always new patients coming in and out of the emergency room. As a doctor you were no stranger to blood and gore and all the strange things people did to each other. You pull your hair up into a messy bun at the top of your head and glance over to your clock.

"Oh shit!" You say grabbing your purse and running out the door. If you didn't go now you'd be late, and honestly you couldn't afford another late on your record. Your boss was already looking for a reason to fire you. Jumping in your car you speed out of the parking garage below the building. The roads were fairly clear for a Friday night, eerily empty. Sure you lived out in the middle of nowhere Australia but this was almost extreme. The tarmac below your wheels was wet, yesterday another unusual thing for mid summer. You mostly ignore the strangeness as you drive, taking your eyes off the road to flick your radio on. When you look back a fog starts to roll in, low to the ground at first, growing steadily until you can hardly see in front of you.

There is a rush of thundering steps charging and you see a great herd of horses speed past you.

"What the-?" You start to say when all your thoughts are stopped. Something large and black had hit the side of your car sending you spinning off the road. The car comes to a stop. Your hands are clenched around the steering wheel. You grab at your chest feeling the tightness there.

"No, not now." It had been a long time since you had felt any pain in your chest. In fact you had been a child when you had your first operation. There had always been a possibility of it coming back as you got older but at only twenty six you didn't think it would be yet. Needing to get air into your lungs you unclip your seat belt and fall out of the car.

The fog was thick and it caught in your throat.

"What is that?" You say out loads to yourself. Coming closer you hear something hard rolling quickly toward you. A large black shadow looming out of the fog. Unable to see properly you don't have enough time to move when the shadow hits you hard, sending you flying to the ground.

A hand is patting your face and you finally look up. It's bright daylight and a woman is knelt beside you, her big, fluffy pink dress is what you notice first.

"My gosh, are you okay?" She asks frantically, "Father we must get her to the hospital." You recognise something about that voice.

"Yes my dear, let's get her in the carriage." An older man with large, white sideburns agrees. Between the two of them they lift you up to your feet and into the carriage.

"What happened?" You ask, fighting the dizziness.

"We hit you with our carriage I'm afraid." The man said, "we may have broken your arm, my dear."

Finally acknowledging your pain you look down at your arm and the strange way it bends.

"hmm yes it looks like it could be a hairline fracture of the Radius bone." You say looking at the shape and swelling of your arm.

"Oh Father, she talks just like Belle." The woman laughed. That name caught your attention and you look back to the fluffy woman.

"Lady Fanny?" You ask.

"Oh you know me?" She says excitedly.

"That makes you Governor Fox?" You say turning the older man. He nods with a smile.

"And who might you be?" Fanny asks.

"Oh um I'm y/n." You say. "I don't understand, how am I here?" You ask them.

"well we put you in here." She answers you a laugh.

"No, no I mean, how am I...this makes no sense at all." You look out of the window and see a bustling town all around you. "Port Victory? Stop the carriage!" You shout to the driver. He pulls at the horse's reins slowing them to stop. You climb out and find yourself surrounded by men in frock coats and women in large dresses. The heat beats down on you and you're sure you had to be dreaming.

"Come on now miss, let's get you back into the carriage!" governor Fox called over to you. You shake your head, still turning around yourself to take it all in. At the exact moment you were turning back toward the carriage a hard body hits into yours, sending both you tumbling to the floor once more. You call out in pain and grab at your arm.

"I'm so sorry, miss, let me help you up." The cheeky English voice says. Your momentarily blinded by the sun above you only able to feel the strong arms pulling you off the ground.

"Your arm looks bad let me, take you inside." You know that voice.

Focusing your eyes you look up into the deep brown ones in front of you.

"Jack Dawkins." You whisper.

He grins down at you.

"So you've heard of me? Come along then, I'll get you all fixed up." He says guiding you towards the hospital, "shall I ask the nurses for some clothes for you, miss?"

"What?"

"Well, you uhhh you appear to be in your...well you aren't in a dress." Jack stumbles.over his words. You look down at your denim jeans and small white t-shirt.

"Oh, right." Eyes shifting around you see the way people are looking at you and feel utterly exposed. Jack led you into a small private room where he helped you sit on the bed.

"Okay let's have a look." He takes your hurt arm and pulls it towards him gently, "Yes, it's definitely broken. It doesn't seem so bad though." He says.

"A hairline fracture I'd say. We should get a scan on it just to be sure." You say.

"A what?" His eyes narrow in on you.

"Oh, I'm, nothing it needs a, um a splint, right?" You ask trying to recall how medicine worked in the 1800s. Jack studied you with curious eyes.

"Doctor, do you need anything?" Hetty pops her head through the door.

"Ahh yes, please could you get miss...uhh" he looks back at you,

"y/l/n" you announce.

"Yes Miss y/l/n some clothing, please." The nurse nods her head and disappears out of the room. Jack turns back to you and checks your arm once more.

"Yes a splint, very good. How did you...no it's alright I'll be right back." He follows Hetty out the door leaving you alone. Looking around the room you try to make sense of what was happening. This had to be a dream, right. You didn't fall through some magic fog and end up in the middle of TV show. Either way you figured it would be best if you didn't tell anyone where you were really from. The future seemed a bit crazy and could wind you in a jail cell rather than being helped.

When Jack came back into the room he was carrying a small pile of clothes and medical equipment.

"um, the nurses are all busy, would it be okay if I helped you to um, get dressed?" He asked sheepishly.

"Sure, I won't be able to do it myself." You admit. He straps up your arm, a thin wooden plank on top and bottom with a white linen bandage wrapped around your arm. Jack cut the sleeve the grey dress and helped you to step into it. He pulls it up so you can slide your arms into it, material is surprisingly soft but worn. Jack is careful with your broken arm and begins to button the front.

"Thank you for this." You say in a quiet voice.

"Of course. How did you get hurt?" He asks.

"Oh a carriage, um, Governor Fox's carriage." You say, still not fully sure what happened yourself.

"And he just left you?" Annoyance flashed across his face.

"No, god no. He was bringing me here but I was too curious, I guess." You laugh.

Just as you were speaking you hear Edmund Fox talking in the corridor with the nurses.

"She is just in here with the Doctor, sir." Hetty knocks and opens the door, "The Governor is here for the lady."

"Ahh there you are, well how are we doing?" Fox asks.

"A simple break, Governor. Miss Y/l/n will be fine with a few weeks rest, the bone will repair itself." Jack explained. Fanny came darting in to your side.

"Oh, thank the lord you're okay." She said grabbing you as if you were old friends, "where are you staying?" She asks.

"umm,"

"I insist you stay with us for the duration of your recovery." Fox said very matter-of-factly. You shake your head.

"I couldn't do that-" you begin to protest.

"It is a good place to recover, miss." Jack cuts you off, "I will visit you there on my rounds, to check on your healing." He smiled.

You think for a moment, realising you were changing the course of events already. Though ultimately you agree and follow the Fox's out of the hospital and back into the carriage.

Jack watched as you walked away.

"Strange one, she is." Hetty remarked standing beside him.

"She's remarkable, knew exactly what was wrong with her arm, but you aren't wrong there is something odd about her." He mused.

"Red was looking for you, said there is a card game tonight on the ship." Hetty told him.

At Government house you stood in the parlour with Fanny and Belle, Smales sat at the table.

"We'll take you to the seamstress tomorrow. She has a few dresses we can have fitted to you immediately." Fanny chatted away.

"I appreciate it, Fanny, but I don't have any money to pay for dresses." You say.

"Oh, none of that. Miss y/l/n. We did you a grave service today. It would be our pleasure to ensure your stay here be as pleasant as possible. Think nothing of any cost." Edmund spoke up from his chair, their dog sat on his lap. You thank him then turn to Belle.

"Lady Belle, have you been to the hospital at all?" You ask trying to keep yourself as neutral as you could.

"No I have not, though I would like to." She sighed.

"Oh we will have to get you a dress for the ball tomorrow night." Fanny clapped happily.

"your ball is tomorrow?" You ask, realisation dawning on you. "I'm sorry I need to go somewhere." You jump up and run for the door.

As always let me know what you think of this one.

Comment, like, reblog etc

PT 2

@fandomfan-102

#jack dawkins x y/n #jack dawkins x reader #jack dawkins #the artful dodger x reader #the artful dodger #norbert fagin #lady belle fox #reader insert #thomas brodie sangster

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