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howdoesagrapewrites · 11 months

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𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙚

Cw: sex, smut, afab!switch!reader x Hobie Brown, vaginal penetration, pierced dick Hobie supremacy,riding, degradation, spanking, slapping, choking, hair pulling, teasing, porn without plot, almost immediate smut, I'm horrible writing Hobie's accent

Notes: inspired by a dream I had last night

It had been a really rough day, when you got to your shared flat, you simply collapsed on the couch like your muscles were jelly, didn't even have enough energy to reach for your pocket to look at your phone. After you regain enough energy, you go to bed and clumsily take off your clothes, leaving only a t-shirt and underwear, you rest comfortably, after a few minutes you slightly lift your head from the pillow to see Hobie getting out of the shower, rummaging through his clothes to find sweatpants to sleep on, when he bend over, you can see the curve of his lower back and the towel scarcely covering up his body. God, he was hot, you bite your lip and stare shamelessly.

"See sumthin' you like?" He asks with a cocky smile

"You know the answer"

"Maybe I don't need to put clothes on after all" he teases, but he's really asking if you're up to

"Unfortunately you do, I'm way too tired to, y'know" you roll into the other side of the bed to make room for Hobie

"I can always do all the work, y' can starfish if ya want"

And that's how you ended up like this, gripping for dear life into the sheets and muffling your sounds on the tear and drooled stained pillow, you don't know how long it's been, but you know this must be at least your fourth denied orgasm, for the entirety of you session has ignored all your desperate pleas of "c'mon", "please", "lemme cum", and like he has done before, he grabs your hips roughly and keeps you in place to impede you from grinding into his cock and getting the little stimulus left so you can climax.

"mnghh, teasing asshole" you murmur, your voice shaky and airy as the only thing keeping you awake is your frustration from all the ruined orgasms your loving boyfriend has decided to provide tonight. He hears this, and grabs a fistful of your hair to lift your head, "what'chu saying there, luv?" He whispers in your ear, the pain and the vibration of his deep voice makes you clench around him, he pulls out of you, leaving only the tip inside and making you whine at the feeling of emptiness, you want to reply to him, but he has fucked you stupid, you can't connect your brain with your mouth enough to form coherent words, and only let out an irritated sound. "Yeah, that's what I thought", he lets your head fall into the pillow, and slam his cock roughly into your guts, spanking your ass and making you moan loudly, you're so pent up you're sure you could cum from the pain alone, but he makes sure to keep you on edge, pressing himself deep inside and then putting pressure on your lower abdomen, you feel everything, every vein, every ridge, and most importantly,you feel his prince Albert piercing in your most sensitive spots, he bites your shoulder continuing his brutal pace, and like every time before, he stops when you're close. You continue uttering the orchestra of pathetic little whimpers at his mean antics, but you're determined to cum and not take a second more of this pleasurable torture. With energy you didn't know you had, you flip him over and steady yourself on top him while he's too shocked (and intrigued on what you'd do) to move. You set an irregular pace with your hips, between your desperate and uncoordinated movements you find the position that gives you the most stimulation, and start riding him furiously, tears blurring your vision, he moans too. "You gon' cum for me?" He's still so arrogant even though he's under you.

"Oh, shut the fuck up" you put your hands around his neck and lightly squeeze, you feel his cock twitch inside you, the knot in your stomach starts to untie and this time no one stops it, you feel your orgasm leave your body shaking and convulsing in bliss, Hobie grabs onto your thighs to keep himself from cumming too, leaving crescent moon red marks on the skin with his chipped black painted nails.

You take a moment to recover from the mind blowing orgasm, collapsing on Hobies chest, his piercen nipples grazing yours and making you shiver at the cool metal. "You want to sleep now, sweetheart?" Hobie asks you, massaging the supple skin of your ass and thighs. You look at him like he said the most inappropriate words someone has heard in twenty years, you sit, straddling him again. "I asked for one thing 'cause I was tired and you just acted like a fucking brat for god knows how long, you don't pull that shit and get no consequences. You said you'd help me out, so now you stay there and let me use this cock until I'm bored" you grab his jaw and slap him across the face, he excitedly nods and you can see the fucked up expression in his face, he's probably enjoying this more than you do.

#atsv x reader #atsv smut #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #Hobie Brown x reader smut #across the spiderverse smut #spider-punk smut

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maxcuntstappen · 3 months

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wanted to post some comfort lestappen after yesterday and generally to kind of cleanse the energy of the tumblr dash over the last couple of days.

enjoy <3

“Baby,” Max says, “Come on.”

It doesn’t change anything. Charles stays lying on his front, his face buried in his pillow.

He looks so small like this. So tiny. It makes Max want to protect him, to kiss his forehead and hold him close and keep him there for as long as they live.

“Charlie,” Max whispers, fingers reaching out to comb through Charles’ soft, brown locks, “Talk to me please.”

Charles replies, but the words reach Max all garbled, the sound swallowed up by the intruding pillow.

But still. It’s progress.

Max lies down on his side next to Charles, throwing an arm over his waist. He kisses Charles’ cheek. Once, twice. Three more times.

And finally, like the sun breaking through grey clouds, Charles’ head turns towards him. Just a little bit. Only a single beautiful green eye looking at Max.

“Hi,” Max smiles, his hand caressing Charles’ cheek, “It’s nice to see your lovely face.”

And despite everything, Charles smiles. It makes Max feel like he’s won a goddamn trophy.

“Do we not want to talk about what’s wrong?”

Charles shakes his head.

Max hums.

It’s not ideal. Charles is the kind of person who always feels better once he talks his emotions out. But if he doesn’t want to, Max will not force him.

“Is there something else we can do, that I can do which would help?”

Charles’ bottom lip sticks out, a cute little pout that makes Max’s chest ache.

“I don’t know,” Charles whispers, his voice rough and heavy, “I don’t know what to do, what will help.”

Max nods, running through his mental directory of things and activities that he knows Charles enjoys.

“I think,” Charles begins, biting his lip.

“Yes?” Max urges, running his fingers down the length of Charles’ spine, smiling gently at the shiver that follows.

“I think I just want to be sad for a bit,” Charles says, his eyes so careful, so observant, undoubtedly evaluating all of Max’s expressions, “I just want to be sad and watch some tv and that’s all.”

Max doesn’t know what to think. Or say.

It’s not something Charles has done before, as far as Max is aware of. Charles either talks about it or works out about it or writes some music about it. He’s never just… been with it. That’s more of Max’s thing.

“Is that okay?” Charles asks cautiously.

“Of course it’s okay, schatje,” Max says, moving closer to kiss Charles’ nose, “Of course.”

The corners of Charles’ mouth turn up a little, making the corners of Max’s mouth turn up a whole lot.

“Do you want to be alone? I could give you some space, go sim race for a while or play with the cats.”

Charles frowns, shaking his head, “No. Stay.”

“Okay,” Max smiles, “Do you have something particular you want to watch?”

“No, not really. I just don’t want to think.”

“Okay,” Max nods, “Okay. Come on then, come here”

Max sits up, leaning against the headboard, holding his arms open.

Charles is quick to move, settling into Max’s side, breathing a sigh of relief.

“I’m going to pick the third movie that’s on our watchlist, okay?” Max asks, feeling Charles nod against him, his hair tickling the inside of Max’s arm.

Max doesn’t think he’s even heard of the movie. It’s animated and about a goose and a fish and why the hell is this on their watchlist.

Doesn’t matter. He picks it anyway.

It’s quiet as they watch the film. Something Max is not used to.

Charles is a chronic talker. Even during movies. Seriously. The man has an opinion about each scene and he will make it known.

He is really fucking lucky that Max doesn’t care much about films and would rather be listening to Charles’ voice anyways.

Yeah, it’s odd, feeling Charles next to him, matching his own breathing to his and not knowing any of the things going on in his head.

But it’s okay. It’s what Charles needs. And that’s all that matters.

Charles snorts suddenly, scaring the shit out of Max, “I don’t get it. How can a goose and a fish be friends? Like how can a goose hear what the fish is saying underwater?”

Max has to force down a cackle to be able to reply. It makes his voice sound all strange and high-pitched.

“That’s the part you decide to question and not the fact that they of course can talk?”

Charles rolls his eyes, giving Max’s arm a hard smack, “You know what I mean, you asshole.”

Max doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t.

But Charles has already moved onto sharing his next thought and he sounds lighter and he’s moving his hands around as he talks and so when he asks Max if he thinks it’s stupid that the main character goose has a ‘cooler haircut’ than the other geese, all Max does is nod and say, “So fucking stupid, schatje. It’s so stupid.”

#lestappen #lav's ficlets #f1 fic #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen au

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sunflower-lilac42 · 11 days

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✧ 𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 || trevor zegras ♔

summary: after a long day, y/n goes home but who's there isn't who she expects it to be.

warnings: long days, terrible bosses, surprises?, breakups

publish date: 05/6/24

notes: um... hey guys. i don't know where this came from but i just started writing the other night. the end i'm not a huge fan of but i wrote something so. progress. i will say, i don't think the writing mojo is one hundred percent back but hopefully its getting there! | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

While living in Canada, she had expectations that she would never see Cole’s friends unannounced. However, when one of his friends was Trevor Zegras, she should’ve known to expect the unexpected.

It had been a long day in general, her boss gave her more paperwork to do, she spilled coffee on herself, and on top of it all, she and her boyfriend had been fighting and this had been the last straw for him. He broke up with her in the middle of the day, through text, when he knew she was still working, leaving no time for her to argue with him, to say anything to save them.

That’s how she ended up where she was now, her jacket wrapped tightly around her as she slowly trudged through the wet and cold of Montreal. Sludge was everywhere causing water to seep into her brand-new shoes and her socks, leaving her feet freezing.

The hallway to their apartment felt longer than it usually was. It felt like it took her ten minutes instead of just one to walk down it. Reaching into her back pocket to grab her keys she realized that they weren’t there. Fucking flying fantastic.

She raised her hand and knocked on the door, in hindsight, she didn’t know why. Cole was wherever he was, his location the last thing on her mind, so the apartment was empty. The knock came out as low as her energy level was. And, to her surprise, a minute later someone opened the door, and it wasn’t her brother.

Trevor stood there, his hair slightly messy and face a little flush from whatever he had been doing (testing the durability of the siblings’ couch by jumping up and down on it). His lips were turned upwards into a grin but they quickly flipped down when he realized she was shaking and her mascara was painted down her cheeks.

He ran a hand threw his hair before she spoke, “Trevor? W-what are you doing here?”

Usually, she was good at remembering things people told her but it seemed like those skulls were lacking as of recently. With Cole playing for Team USA she had the apartment to herself, to do things as she pleased. But, the text that Cole had sent her a few days ago slipped her mind, the text that explained to her that Trevor was visiting and needed a place to stay.

Trevor said nothing in reply to her question, pulling her into his arms. His right hand wrapped around her waist and his left arm came up to her head, his hand holding it tightly to his chest. And that was all it took for her to break down, tears staining his off-white hoodie.

He turned around and kicked the door closed with his foot before lifting her up to carry her to her bedroom. She wrapped her legs around his waist, a habit she had fallen into over the last five years. He tried shushing her, her sobs breaking his heart but his efforts were in vain. She kept crying, but now her head was resting on his shoulder. As Trevor sat her down on the bed, he kneeled before her, brushing the hair out of her face. He desperately wiped at the tears that continued to fall down her cheeks.

When she stopped briefly, Trevor took her face into his hands, “What happened? Did someone do something to you?”

She had never heard his voice that stern before, and if she was honest, she couldn’t decide whether she should be scared of it or attracted to it. She only blinked at him in response and he sighed. His thumb rubbed under her eye, mascara now covering his finger. He pouted a little before kissing her cheek, “Please tell me what happened sweetheart.”

Trevor was always one for nicknames. He always called her honey, or baby, or sweetheart, or princess. But they never meant anything, not to her. It was harmless teasing, however, for whatever reason, this felt different. This one felt more real, like he was saying it to her, for, her. It felt different because all of those other times he said it, he called her a stupid little nickname, they were laughing, having fun, being idiots. And now she was here being vulnerable in front of him, crying, no bawling in front of him, breaking down as he cupped her face.

Her breath hitched at the nickname, now that she had returned to crying Trevor didn't know if it was because of that or because of the nickname.

After a while, her cries finally stopped. She stared at him straight in the eye before looking back down. She didn’t answer, she didn’t know how to answer. Everything had been too much that she didn’t know what happened today or what had happened yesterday.

Trevor urged her once more, his tone still stern but a little softer now and he allowed the desperation to be heard. He removed one of her hands from her cheek to hold both of hers, resting them in her lap, “Please y/n.”

“Everything.”

“What do you mean, princess?”

“He broke up with me. My boss hates me. I have a shit ton of paperwork. I spilled coffee on my favorite jacket. I ruined my new shoes. I forgot to text Cole good luck.”

Despite her listing a multitude of reasons for her to be crying, Trevor was still on the first one. His mind was still trying to figure out how Chris had broken up with her. She was everyone’s dream girl, okay maybe she was just his dream girl, but still. She was beautiful, she was kind, she was smart, she was adorable, she was everything anyone could ever want.

Trevour thought he could cry right there when she pulled away from him to scoot back so her back was flush with the headboard. She curled into herself and Trevor frowned at the action. Standing up, he walked over to the side of the bed so he could sit in front of her.

She reached out to hold his hand, giving it a slight tug and Trevor immediately knew what she wanted. So once again, he moved, now sitting next to her while she lay on top of him. In any other situation, she would’ve been embarrassed, if she had been making fun of him and he pulled her onto his lap, her cheeks would’ve heated up instantly.

Yet all she wanted, all she needed was comfort. Her mind was completely focused on something different, multiple things. Being cuddled up with Trevor was the furthest worry in her mind. He rubbed her back up and down as she wrapped her arms around his torso, feeling content for once today.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For staining your hoodie.”

He kissed her head, “It’s okay. I needed a new one anyway.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Cole didn’t text you?”

“He probably did but I don’t remember.”

“Well, I came to visit my favorite girl.”

She lifted her head in confusion, “Who?”

He only rolled his eyes before kissing her forehead again, “You, you dork.”

“Why would you want to see me?”

He sighed before lifting her off his lap so she was sitting in front of him. He grabbed ahold of her hands, one in each of his, before locking eyes with her, “I know this isn’t the best time to tell you, y/n/n but I really like you.”

“You, Trevor Zegras, like me, y/n Caufield?”

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I'm me.” She shrugged, not really having an answer for him.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “That’s exactly why I like you. Because you’re you and nobody else compares.”

“Trev…”

“I know, I know. You and Chris just broke up and you’ve had a long day. God, I’m such an idiot, I shouldn’t-”

He was interrupted when she placed her lips on his. It took a moment for him to register but once he did, he melted into the kiss, bringing a hand up to rest around her neck, his thumb brushing a piece of hair out of her face. His other hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her back onto his lap. Her legs wrapped around his waist before pulling away, resting her forehead on his.

“I like you too.” He smiled and kissed her gently once more.

𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑬𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #nhl #hockey #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #tz11

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wriothesleybear · 5 months

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Can you please write a wrio reader fic where reader is just absolutely exhausted from a long day of work? like right when they walk in the door eyes are heavy, zombie, practically ready to pass out from exhaustion, sore back, just wants to cry to be honest. even more since they hate their job.

Damn, I feel this with my job. And if I had wrio to come home to, I'd die a happy woman. I hope Wrio doesnt seem oc in this. This is just what I think he'd be like as a comforting boyfriend cuz he is the best boyfriend. I also hope this isn't cringy. Ngl, I sorta got a bit teary eyed writing this cuz it made me think about how stressed I get from my own job and college classes and I would love to have Wrio comfort me when I come home ;-;

~warnings: comfort, a bit of angst, mentions of crying, Wrio calls reader 'dear, love', gn!reader.

The door of Wriothesley's office creaks open and slams shut. Slow, heavy footsteps tread up the stairs. Turning his head towards the stairs, he sees you. He notices the exhausted look on your face, too tired to even bother greeting him. He can tell from that that you had a bad day. You trudge over to the couch in his office, drop your items on the floor and fall on the cushions below, face first. He stifles a chuckle from watching your adorable actions.

He quietly scoots his chair back and walks over to the couch to check up on you. Taking a seat on the table in front of the couch, he places a hand on the back of your head, stroking your hair to comfort you. "Bad day?" You don't even have the energy to answer. All you can do is slightly nod your head. He continues to stroke your hair, knowing that's one of your favorite ways to feel better. "Want to talk about it?"

You take a second to respond, debating whether or not you really want to talk about it. It'll just be the same old rant about how you hate your job, how customers suck, how your back hurts, and all those negative things in your life. You feel guilty for always complaining your boyfriend's ear off, thinking he probably gets tired of it. Not wanting to burden him anymore, you shake your head no. "You sure? I'm always happy to listen to your worries and problems." He says as his hand moves down to rub your back in comfort.

His kind nature makes your heart skip a beat, so grateful to have someone like him in your life. Although, it makes you happy, you just want to cry. The stress from work and your worries of being a bad s/o to your wonderful boyfriend is what causes you to just break down and cry. You quietly cry but he can feel your body slighty shake. "What's wrong my love?" You don't reply. All you do is shake your head and cry.

"Come here." He gently grabs a hold of you, urging you to get up and sit on his lap so he can hold you. He effortlessly picks you up and has you straddle his lap. He holds your head to his chest, rubbing your back as he tries to shush you. "Shh, it's okay. Let it out if you need to." His shirt gets soaked from your tears, but he doesn't care. He just wants you to feel better and if letting you cry into his shirt helps you, then he'd let you ruin all of his shirts.

After a while, you begin to calm down, the sound of your sniffles and cries decreasing. "Did that help?" You nod your head while still keeping your face in his chest. "Sorry Wrio." He cups your face and moves it away from his chest so he can see your face. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm always here for you." He says as he looks deeply into your eyes, thumb stroking your cheek. You give him a small smile which he returns with his own gentle smile.

"So. Is there anyone I need to 'talk' to?" You recognize his implication and chuckle a bit. "No, just a stressful day. Just being here with you as you hold me is good enough for me." You lean your forehead against his and give him a eskimo kiss. "I'm glad. Now, how about I make you some tea?"

"In a bit. I just want you to keep holding me and stay like this for a while longer. Please."

"Of course my love." He gives you a short, sweet kiss on your lips. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, getting comfortable on his lap. His arms wrap around you, holding you tight and leaves a kiss on your head. "Um Wrio." He hums in response, acknowledging you. "Can you..stroke my hair again, please?" You ask shyly, blush covering your cheeks. He chuckles. "Of course my dear."

Keeping one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, he brings the other one up to your hair, stroking and combing his fingers through the soft strands. "Thank you Wrio." You say into his neck, leaving a little kiss on his skin. "I love you."

"Anything for you. I love you too. Rest now. I'll make you tea when you wake up." You smile, grateful to have a wonderful, loving boyfriend. Your eyes close as you get sleepy from his comforting touches. You soon fall asleep.

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons

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asnowfern · 20 days

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In Between The Lines

A/N: Happy @nestaarcheronweek ! This was originally intended for Metamorphosis but I’ll settle for cramming it in as a last minute contribution for Day 7 instead!

Summary: In her desperation to contact every friend and relative for help, a young Nesta stumbles onto a written connection with the most dangerous being of them all - a fae. She just doesn’t know that he needed the contact just as much as she did.

Rating: T, WC 3.3k

Read on AO3

With trembling hands, Nesta hands over what are now precious few coins over to the lady at the counter, thanking her before turning away. The ground crunching beneath her feet is a visceral thing. Every snap of a twig and crinkle of a dried leaf echoes in her ears.

Even coins to send out letters seem like a waste of precious resources. A cruel reminder of what they used to have in abundance being lost to them, having long sunk deep into the depths of the sea. Father had mentioned the funds they would get from selling the manor could tie them over for a good while but there is a despair and hopelessness in his dead brown eyes that boils Nesta’s insides.

It is as if he has given up.

Never mind he has three young daughters to feed and clothe, to ensure they wed well into good families. That look in his eyes was like looking at a dead fish, a reminder of a man who had all the riches on the island and still did nothing as his wife withered away. Nesta fumes just at the thought, the additional spurt of energy drives her home with hasty steps.

Nesta walks into the study where she has spent the last few weeks writing letters to every friend and relative - each one more desperate than the last. Only to receive nothing. The silence is louder than any crunch from the ground of impending winter or the trilling of birds surrounding a home that is no longer theirs.

The ink of the notepad glistens from where she had left it half written - another wretched letter she had all but signed off when the desolate realisation struck her: she has run out of contacts to write to.

She picks up the pad, a frown creases between her brows when notices fresh words forming just below where her letter stopped.

Who are you? How did you find me?

She drops the devil-willed pad, as if stung by hot iron.

No. Not the devil. Her fingers shake where she still has them stretched outwards.

Faerie.

***

For the first time in over forty years, Cassian feels something that is not fury and frustration, not the bottomless well of shame that he tries desperately every day not to lose himself in. Because for the first time after being trapped in Velaris, something from the outside seemed to have breached the enchantments hiding the Court of Dreams.

The content of the letter itself is nothing threatening. Just a letter pleading for financial assistance using words too beautiful for a bastard like him. Yet, oddly enough, there is no name or address.

The general in him hisses urgently, demanding him to plug the gap immediately. He pushes it aside in favour of the tight tug in his chest and the sight of elegantly curved scripture. The tug that pulls and pulls until the muscle beneath is sore and tender.

He tears his gaze away from the notepad and absently rubs soothing circles over his chest. Hazel eyes sharpen at the pen lying on the table a couple of inches away and he swipes it off the surface. He lowers the inky tip to the paper and watches blankly as the ink swells beneath the words and then vanishes.

With brows raised high, Cassian throws caution to the wind and scribbles away.

Who are you? How did you find me?

He drops the pen, fingers tapping incessantly against the pad, his leg joins in the restless motion soon after.

Minutes tick by.

Cassian continues to wait - knowing and needing the reply that is to come. He tosses the small knife up in the air. It flies past the height of his chest, his forehead, his wings, and back down into the waiting grip of seasoned fingers. Again and again, even as the room darkens around him.

Again and again until glimmering ink materialises, blessing the paper with its scrawl, beautiful but uncertain. Cassian leans forward, nearly toppling the chair over in its speed. Next to him, the tip of the blade embeds itself into the wooden surface of the table.

Can you help me?

He smiles widely as he pens down a reply, WHO are you?

Don’t play with me. His mysterious correspondent writes, angry in the crossing of their t, impatient in the jab of their period stop. Can you send us the gold or not?

He can’t, of course. Not while his city is still locked away. But they don’t need to know that yet.

What would you give me for it?

Dots of ink litter the space just below his question. As if they can’t quite decide how to respond. He lowers the pen to paper once more and offers, My name is Cassian. And you?

He frowns as the black ink forms more words, shaky yet stubborn. Are you here to help me or not?

A name, sweetheart. He taunts.

He can almost hear the huff in the response. You can call me Nina.

Is that your real name?

No. He barks out a laugh.

Touché.

Can you help me, Cassian?

A spark blazes a trail down his spine as he takes in his name written by his mysterious partner. He so desperately needs to see it again.

I want to. He tries to explain because he thinks it might actually kill him to have to lie to her. But there is a powerful ward that keeps my city hidden. I can’t contact anyone outside.

Without even realising it, he finds himself without air. Maybe in worry that she wouldn’t respond or in response to the ache in his chest. But finally, he releases it with the appearance of charcoal ink.

Then what do you call this? Comes the answer, direct yet petulant.

I don’t know. I thought that it might have been you.

Another scoff, he can almost hear it. Clearly, because he is the fae here, enthralling the young human female. Don’t be ridiculous.

I usually am. But not on this. You are the first person outside of the city that I have contacted in decades.

A long pause.

So you really can’t help me?

Cassian hovers the pen over the paper before, finally, I’m sorry.

He never gets a reply after that.

***

Nesta freezes in her path, sharp steely blue eyes taking in the angry twin pair of eyes. The tension crackles between them.

“What have you done?” She spits, “You were supposed to get food from the market.”

Feyre’s too youthful and slender fingers grip tighter around the body of the slightly battered bow slung over her shoulder. She shoots back sarcastically, “And then what? Starve for the rest of winter?”

She knows that. She did the maths weeks ago. The measly coins they had left would have lasted them no more than one more week. But it still could have been one more week of stale bread and pathetic bland stew, of not starving. Nesta’s jaw clenches, the muscle in her neck feathers in effort not to twist towards the lump of a man carving yet another wooden creature.

Instead, she tilts her chin just a degree north and her lips curl in derision. “And what can a child like you do?”

Her younger sister shakes her head incredulously, her knuckles turning white around the bow. “At least I am doing something.” And without another word, Feyre pulls her back rigid and walks out of the cottage.

Nesta ignores the all too perceptive brown orbs of her other sister, turning away to focus her attention on arranging the sparse possessions they have on the single shelf. Blue grey eyes narrow as they snag on the wide gaps between the stone walls.

A forgotten distant memory. A fevered conversation with a piece of talking paper. She pushes it away.

She draws her trembling hands back towards her chest and down to her sides. Slim fingers close in forces on the folds of the coarse material of her frock.

Useless. She is useless. What is a sharp tongue and perfect waltz in the face of starvation? What is the point of her? She thinks bitterly and turns away from the wall crevice.

The youngest Archeron returns hours later when the chill of the autumn night has begun to creep into their stoned shack, announcing her arrival with a creak of the door. Nesta opens her mouth, ready to shoot a snide remark when Feyre angrily dumps two squirrels on the table. Nesta forces her gaze away from the dead glassy look of the catch and meet-

The haunted abyss that has darkened the edges of vibrant grey blue eyes. The eyes of a girl who had just lost a piece of herself to the cold desolate woods.

The blankness vanishes with the next blink and Nesta clears her throat, snipping with distaste, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Swallowing a growl, Feyre barely suppresses a look of bewilderment and yanks the squirrels off the table, noisily stalking out of the cottage. Only the sheer weight and ill-maintained hinges prevent the door from slamming. The entire house turns quiet in her absence, even the oscillating of Elain’s gaze is a palpable presence.

Nesta does not see that look in Feyre’s eyes when her sister steps back through the door. Instead, she takes in Feyre’s anger and bitterness and returns them with her own frosted rage.

Hours later, when sleep has eluded her for far too long, Nesta slips out of the body-warmed sheets of their shared bed and into the shivering grasp of the dead of night. Surely, only the Gods know the time now.

She crosses her hands to rub the back of her upper arms, futilely trying to stave off the eruption of goosebumps spreading along her skin. She halts to retrieve a crumbled pad from behind the loose stone.

She should have left this cursed pad in that large manor. Let the wickedness that lives within infect its next occupier, whoever is unlucky enough to buy their house. But when it was time for her to leave, she couldn’t. Her arm resolutely refused to obey its owner’s command and it was all she could do to stuff it beneath a loose rock and pray that it did not try to influence anyone else in her family.

Her fingers trace the yellowed parchment, her brain plays the scene of Feyre stepping out into the snow on repeat. Her youngest sister, taking up the mantle because the man who calls himself their father can’t. His ineptitude, her failure.

The iron bracelet jingles uselessly around her wrist as she raises a pen to summon, Cassian?

No answer. Of course, it’s been months, she scolds herself.

But still, Nesta foolishly stands in the cold. Staring until…

Missed me, sweetheart?

***

Cassian closes the door to his room with a small snick, one hand still ruffling the damp towel over his hair. He tosses it into a bucket in a corner, knowing it would have vanished before it actually hit the bottom. Exhaling a long insufferable breath, he collapses on the soft surface of his bed. His eyes travel to the yellowed pad lined neatly next to his blade.

Nina. Or whatever her true name is, not that it really matters at this point. They have been chatting on and off for a couple of years shrouded in masks and half-truths. Sometimes they go weeks without communicating, once even months.

A part of him still chastises himself for not having brought this to Amren - at what is clearly a breach in their wards. But how can he when he has been dying to crack them open without having the protection fall apart like a house of cards for decades? Spending hours in the library if it meant he could find a hairline fracture to slip through, to be fighting by his High Lord’s, his brother’s side? In its stead, he found a link to an all too young human female who is trapped by the Cauldron just as cruelly.

Someone, who wields sharp words as their sword and wit as their shield. With her, Cassian’s world is suddenly more than just Velaris. With her, he once again breathes the crisp air of the Illyrian mountains.

A careless hand sweeps the bound stack of paper off the table. It hits the firm muscled chest with a slight thud. His brows raise with amusement as he rereads where their conversation ended just a couple of nights ago.

Reading. I miss reading.

He spent minutes staring at the same elegant curvature that he has long ago committed to memory. He breathed it in once more, the enthrallling way she flicks the ends of her g or slopes her R, before rushing down to the depths of the House. He ignored the slight scowls of the priestesses as his wings rustled noisily past the quiet caverns of the library. It took him a couple more precious ticking minutes before he picked out a book.

With a tickling in his chest and a blooming smile on his face, he picked up a stray pen and began to write.

Cassandra’s head whirled around to take in her surroundings - the snowy mountains flanking the small town, the comforting smell of freshly baked bread, the chatters of life and energy swirling around her-

Her heart stuttered.

The male tilted himself away, facing the horse sputtering in delight as he ran a brush along silky soft fur.

Are you writing me a romance??? Disbelief playfully interrupted him.

He corrected her because he sure ain’t hell will never get away from pretending to be able to write it himself, I am copying you a romance.

A pause.

Why?

Because you said you missed it.

The lack of reply spoke louder than any words would. It compelled Cassian to put pen to paper once more and continued copying.

The sight of the long sections of fiction brings a lingering smile at the edge of his mouth, a warm flutter in his chest. Nina, being the infuriating female that she is, snipes impossible notes at the sidebars, distracting him repeatedly.

Cassian curves his abdomen in to sit up, one arm already outstretched to reach for the novel. In the next moment, he starts to write.

***

The fire crackles as the decadent scent of a hot meal wafts over the cottage. There is a lightness that traverses the house that is completely foreign to Nesta: Elain humming a melody just under her breath, lithe hands a motion in arranging a vase of beautiful flowers. Their father moves with a spring in his steps as he hovers back and forth a ledger of carefully notated accounts.

Just for a moment, Nesta lets herself pretend - immerse herself in the same reality her father and sister live in. They’re not poor any longer. Hot piping meals are readily available. The desperate kernel of hope they have held on to in the past few years has prevailed.

And she opens her eyes to zone in on the piece of broken wood left by an enraged beast of terrifying size, and the elder Archeron sister remembers.

There is no Aunt Ripleigh, there is no mysterious gold recovered from lost seas. There is no good fortune.

This is only a monster honouring some ridiculous treaty from generations past. There is no forgetting that the price of comfort is their youngest sister.

The wrongness of it leaves a bitter taste in Nesta’s mouth.

Silently, Nesta draws the paltry number of coins from her pockets. Coins Feyre had managed to barter from that female mercenary for the Wolf’s pelt, a different type of blood money. Her mind begins to run the arithmetic and forms a plan.

Perhaps if instead of a pair of new boots that doesn’t pinch, she could have enough. The weight of her plan begins to ground her, reduces the level of bitterness of every fibre of her body screaming at her that this is wrong.

The crackling logs of the fire snaps, ensnaring her attention. The gaze of razor edged silver blue eyes shifts to the fire. Behind it, the loose rock some distance sharpens into focus.

That night, Nesta leaves the comfort of her warm bed once more, digging out the thick wad of paper. She skips through pages of an indulgent fae romance, right to the end of their last correspondence some weeks back.

The Faes are unscrupulous folks. They trick and they take. This one is different only because he can’t. He is trapped just as much as she is.

But still, he is fae.

How do I get past the wall?

She has almost dozed off when glistening ink spurs her back to alertness.

The wall? Into Prythian?

Nesta clicks her tongue in distaste at the obviousness of the question when he adds another word after his last message.

Whatever the reason - you shouldn’t.

The side of her palm presses hard into the papered surface, her fingertips turned white against the tip of her pen.

It remains at the tip of her tongue as her mind refreshes and reminds her: The deep roar of the beast, Feyre’s steely blue eyes as she steps forward, unwavering in the face of powers leagues beyond her own. It’s my sister. She’s been taken. I need to get her back. She almost spills it all out.

But she doesn’t, not trusting the truth with anyone. Much less another fae.

She asks instead, Why?

There is hesitance in his answer. Things are messy now. It is why my city is locked away. It’s not safe, much less for humans.

The blatant dismissal sets a flame alight. It sputters and hisses at the indignity. But like a steel blade stressed in an impossible heat, it eventually quenches and leaves her with a hardened resolve.

All the more reason for me to try.

She doesn’t ask any more questions. Counting and setting the last of Feyre’s coins aside, Nesta climbs back under the covers with Elain.

She will look for the mercenary tomorrow.

***

The frigid sting of water swallows her whole. It burns and burns and burns. Vapourising all that she was, forging into a being she did not want to become.

Nesta opens her eyes when the darkness and agony fades, a foreign silver fire simmers deep within her. Swirling, waiting.

Light streams through the windows and shines on the elegant furnishing of the room. Outside the clear glass is the panoramic view of a city that is not hers, that she wants no part of. Withholding a long suffering sigh, she gets dressed.

The all-too-sharp fae hearing picks up on familiar grunting which she has long identified as the two winged fae sparring. Something in her chest twists uncomfortably at the memory of the crimson siphon adorned Illyrian.

Like everything else, she pushes it away.

It is only after she finishes braiding her hair, tucking those all too sharp ears behind thick locks that she notices a new book lying on the table. She picks it up with a frown and opens to its marked page.

Cassandra’s breasts grew heavier with every breath. The darkened gaze of Matthias pinned her to the rough wooden planked walls, its coarse surface scrapped uncomfortably against her bare back. The male approached with a predator’s stride, his smirk grew as he bracketed her frame between his large arms.

Nesta scowls as she tears her gaze away from the page. Her heart traitorously stammers at the all too familiar scrawl on the thin slip of paper marking the page.

The library is on the second floor, just down the hallway from the stairwell.

For the first time since she’s spilled out of the cauldron, Nesta smiles.

#nestaweek2024 #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar

58 notes · View notes

writeawaythepain · 2 months

Text

That Funny Feeling

Jimmy Solidarity x (gn!reader)

…Hey! I’m not dead! And I finally have the urge to write again! Hope you enjoy my spiral into a new fandom!

tw: self-deprecating thoughts, angst (don’t worry there’s a fluff at the end)

Word count: 1.7k

Prompts:

“You are worthy of love and friends and respect.”

"why do you care!" "because i’m in love with you!"

Summary:

You walk in on Jimmy having beef with a fence post, and though you're not really surprised, you wonder if he’s dealing with more pain than just that of his injured foot. Includes you giving the poor guy a much needed hug, and a slip-up that lets him in on how much you really care about him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You don’t think you’ve ever really seen Jimmy upset…not really. He never minded being the butt of any joke, laughing along at any jab or insult. He didn’t mind if people made fun of him as long as it made someone laugh at the end. He was selfless like that. You were always a little bit jealous of his resilience, and maybe that’s why you always thought of him as almost…invincible.

So, when one day you came to check up on how the Sheriff’s new building was going, you were surprised to see that barely any progress had been done. It actually…seemed like he’d torn parts of it down. You approached slowly, taking in the half done walls and foundation, a door frame without a door, and started to look for him.

Before you can even call out to him, though, you see the back of a familiar blonde cowboy. A cowboy who was seemingly talking to himself. “No- come on Jim! You know you can do better at this- you just gotta… just gotta…” He stops, clenching his fists and yelling out in frustration. “It’s not that hard!” He emphasizes the last word by kicking a rickety fence post, but it must have been sturdier than he expected because he instantly flinched back, grabbing his foot and crying out in pain.

The whole sight was almost cartoonish, with him wearing his cowboy hat and boots, so you couldn’t help but snicker even as you reached out your hand in concern. “Oh my god Jimmy, are you ok?” You can’t stop the smile that spreads on your face, but it wavers slightly as you approach him and notice…are those tears in his eyes? He quickly wipes his face, replacing his frustrated look with an excited smile.

“Oh hi! I didn’t even see you there! Me and this fence post are having beef, actually- See, it won’t do what I tell it to, and make my stuff look good so I was reminding ‘em who's in charge round here!” He laughs a little as he says it, his smile so bright you're inclined to believe him…it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes though, and you still wonder if the kick hurt him more than he was letting on.

“Yea, you really showed him!” You try to mirror his energy, shaking off some of your worries as he replies in his usual chipper tone.

“Yea I did!” He laughs but then slightly turns away from you. “Listen uh…you know I always love having you around. You’re welcome anytime! But uh…I really have a- a thing I gotta do and…” Your smile drops as you see him wince a little as he puts his weight on the foot he ‘beat up’ the fence post with.

“Hey Jimmy, is your foot ok?” You walk up to him, concerned. “Maybe you should sit down-“

“Nah I’m fine…probably anyway.” He laughs like it’s a joke, but when you look at him you're not smiling.

“You're limping. You might not have broken anything but- here, sit down.” You gently put your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s really nothing, I’m just being an idiot...” He moves away from your touch, shaking it off and puffing up his chest a little. He tries to shoot you a smile again, but it did little to aid your concerns.

“Just, let me take a look at it? Maybe I can help-“ You start, a little frustrated at his stubbornness.

“But I don’t need help! I can take care of it myself! I just- I just stubbed my toe. I’ll be fine!” You sigh, giving him a weird look, but deciding not to push it.

“…why were you beefing with the fence post anyway…did it kill your grandma?” You joke, hoping to fix the awkward air that had somehow come between the two of you. It’s weird, you’d never felt awkward talking with him before.

Instead of responding, Jimmy just turned towards his half finished building. And stood there. After a while he finally spoke. “Listen I’m, kinda busy right now. Maybe you can come back another time?” …Alright that’s it-

“Ok Jimmy, what is up with you? I came here to see your build, which looks less finished than when I saw it days ago may I add, and instead I see you kicking a fence post, getting defensive when I try to help, and now you don’t even laugh at my Trolls joke? …ok maybe it's an old meme but still-“ You chuckle, still kind of hoping he’d just turn around and start acting normal again. You’ve never seen him act like this before.

All he did was stand there…and as the silence grew longer you couldn’t help but start to get worried. “Gosh…I really am useless.” He finally says.

You almost roll your eyes, “Your not useless Jim-“

“Yes- yes I am!” He says it so firmly you freeze. You’ve never heard him raise his voice like that before.

“I can’t build, I can’t fight, I can’t even be the guy who smiles all the time! I’m- I’m basically worthl-“ He stops himself. “…and I don’t know why I’m telling you this- I’m sorry.“ You're so surprised by his words you don’t even know what to say. “I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just-“ He takes his hat off of his head and grips it in his hands. “It’s so stupid- I’m so stupid. It shouldn’t be this hard for me to just-“ His grip on the hat tightens.

“…Jimmy, you are not worthless. You don’t have to smile all the time to be the brightest ray of sunshine I know. You could probably make me see the silver lining of getting stabbed for god's sake-“ You almost laugh at your own words, hoping it would get through to him. “You are worthy of love and friends and respect. And I’m sorry I don’t tell you that enough.” You walk up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He slowly spins around, but doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I’m just being a baby-”

“No, no you're not. It’s ok to- to feel bad sometimes.” You interrupt gently before he can insult himself again.

“Why- why do you even care?” His voice wavers, and now you can see the tears streaming out of his eyes.

“Because I love you…you idiot.” Jimmy freezes, and even you are a little surprised at your own words, but it’s true. “People care about you- I care about you! I don't care that you can’t build giant castles or fight dragons, or that you get mad or sad sometimes-“ Your rambling a bit, trying to recover from the bombshell you just dropped. Jimmy was just staring at you, eyes wide.

“…you…love me? Like…love, love me?!” He says slowly, not really paying attention to anything else you said after.

“I- this is probably not the best time to just- but, yea. I really do.” You can’t help but look down as you admit it, and when you look back up at him he’s crying all over again. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“

He steps forward and wraps you in a hug, sobbing into your shoulder. You hug him back, rubbing his back and giving him some words of encouragement. Slowly his sobs get quieter, and eventually he pulls away from the hug.

“Um…” He sniffs. “I know I probably look like a mess right now-“

“Just a little.” You tease gently, wiping a stray tear off of his face.

“Right- but um…I love you too. Just so you know.” He avoids your eyes as he says it, then looks directly into them, gauging your reaction, as if to ensure this wasn’t all a joke.

“Like…?” You start.

“Yea…like that.” He gently bumps his forehead against yours, his regular confident smile returning to his face. “I cannot believe you fell for my Sheriff rizz.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Don’t- don’t say rizz-” You try to suppress a giggle, pretending to be upset. “Great, now you ruined the moment.”

His bravado instantly drops, “Wait. No wait I didn’t mean to-” You shut him up by yanking his neckerchief and planting a kiss on his cheek. “To…to…” His face slowly reddens as his brain catches up to his speeding heart.

“Fixed it.” You say simply, chuckling softly as your Sheriff still reboots. “I think I’m the one with the rizz~” You laugh.

“Yea, no I see how that ruins the moment.” You laugh even harder at his reaction, and he can’t help but join in. After a few moments, you end up gazing into his bright hazel eyes.

“You know you can always talk to me when you're feeling upset.” You say seriously, taking one of his hands with both of your own. “Don’t just…no one should be alone when they're feeling like that.”

“...I know…You're right, as always.” He smiles appreciatively, grabbing one of your hands with his free one. You both stand there, swaying your interlocked hands gently back and forth, just enjoying the other's company.

“You know, when you're feeling up to it, why don’t I help you finish this…” You look over the half finished building, realizing you had no idea what it was actually supposed to be.

“Barn. It’s – ” he sighs, as if even bringing it up makes him feel tired all over again, “ – ‘supposed to be a barn.”

“Barn! Right, and we could even ask Joel to help.” His eyes widen.

“No! You can’t tell him- Oh my god I’d never hear the end of it!” You laugh at the urgency in his voice.

“Ok! Ok. It’ll just be me. I’ll help you…” You let go of his hands and instead interlock your fingers behind his neck. “It’ll be our little secret.” He gazes into your eyes with a look only comparable to a lovesick puppy.

“Gosh I really wanna kiss you right now-” He lets out with a whisper, and then it’s your turn to get a little flustered.

“Well…then kiss me cowboy.” You lean in and he meets you halfway, and the kiss is just as sweet as the blonde Sheriff you share it with.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

65 notes · View notes

massivedrickhead · 6 months

Note

3. “Do you think it would be helpful if we were cuddling?”

Totes a Chloe Beale statement…but even better if it’s Beca offering to cuddle cause she knows this is what Chloe needs

This was a lot of fun to write!

3. “Do you think it would be helpful if we were cuddling?”

Prompt taken from here

Read on AO3

Beca approached Chloe’s bedroom door with caution, glancing back down the hall to where the other Bellas stood huddled, nodding at her and gesturing her to keep going.

Beca knocked on the door and quickly withdrew her hand, as if afraid the door might suddenly bite her.

“What?” Came Chloe’s response.

“It’s Beca,” Beca said, her voice trying to be cheerful but coming out too forced. “Can I come in?”

There was a pause, in which Beca looked back at the Bellas with a shrug.

“Fine,” Chloe said.

Beca braced herself for a second before she turned the handle and entered Chloe’s bedroom.

“What is it?” Chloe asked, not even looking up from her laptop as Beca entered.

“Um, well, I was just wondering, we- we all were wondering if everything was okay?” Beca asked.

“Why wouldn’t everything be okay?” Chloe responded, her bottom lip getting caught between her teeth as she frowned at her screen. She started rapidly hitting the backspace.

“It’s just… Apparently, you’ve been holed up in your room all day. Jessica said you nearly bit her head off when she asked you about something,” Beca said, taking a hesitant step forward.

Beca had arrived back from her internship to find all the Bellas except Chloe discussing something around the kitchen table.

The energy in the room felt so serious that Beca felt something in her stomach drop.

When she asked what it was, they looked at her with solemn expressions.

“Something put Chloe in a bad mood.”

Beca understood the seriousness.

It was rare for Chloe to be in a bad mood. Rare for her to stay in her room all day. Rarer still for her to snap at one of her sisters.

Beca asked if any of them had tried to speak to her, and a set of shaking heads was her response.

Again, Beca sort of understood. Chloe was scary when she was angry.

“Well someone has to check on her.”

They all looked at her.

“You’re the co-captain,” was Amy’s response.

“So,” Beca said, after a long silence where Chloe still didn’t look at her, “what’s up?”

“Nothing’s up,” Chloe said. “I’m fine, I just have an essay to finish.”

“Okay,” Beca said. “I guess… I’ll just leave you to it then.” Chloe didn’t reply and just carried on typing. “Okay,” she said again. “I’ll just,” she jerked her thumb back towards Chloe’s open door, even though the redhead still wasn’t looking up. “If there is something wrong, and you do want to talk about it, you know where I am.”

Chloe let out a sigh and abruptly shut her laptop. Beca jumped.

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Chloe said, finally looking at Beca. “Or the night before. Or the night before that.”

“Oh,” Beca said. “How come?”

Chloe shrugged, and Beca saw a look of helplessness on her face. “Stress?” She said. “The World’s are coming up and we aren’t even close to being prepared, I have a bunch of papers I need to write, exams I need to prep for, and even when I try and take a day out to get on top of it, they,” she gestured to the rest of the house, “still need my help with one thing or another.”

Beca couldn’t help but feel guilty. She’d been so busy focusing on her internship that she’d let the preparation for the World’s fall by the wayside. She’d just assumed Chloe could deal with it.

“I’m sorry,” Beca said. “I’m sorry this has all been left for you to handle.”

“It’s fine,” Chloe said, shaking her head, and looking down at the scattered sheets of paper on her desk. “I can handle it, I just need… I need more hours in the day. And I need to be able to shut myself away without it being declared a national emergency.”

“No one’s declared-”

“You’re telling me you weren’t immediately pounced on by the Bellas as soon as you got home?” Chloe asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, yeah, a little. But they’re just worried. We all are.”

Chloe shook her head. “I love them, so much, but sometimes they act like I’m their Mom. And that might be my fault, I took that role on when I became captain, but Moms need a break too you know.”

“I know,” Beca said. “We all know. No one deserves a break more than you do, Chlo’.”

“There’s just no time for one,” Chloe said.

“Of course there is,” Beca said. “And… And maybe you can handle doing everything - being everything for everyone - but you shouldn’t have to. You don’t have to. We’re co-captains, remember? So I’m going to step up. And I’ll make sure the girls do too. We’ll figure out our set for the World’s, I promise.”

“And the other stuff?”

“Those too,” Beca said. “When is this paper due?”

“In a few days,” Chloe said.

“Okay,” Beca said. She checked the time on her phone. “So, have a nap, come have dinner with us, and then you can get back to it after that.”

“I can’t just… have a nap,” Chloe said. “I can’t sleep. I can’t shut my mind off, there’s so many things I need to think about.”

Beca hesitated, her bottom lip getting caught in her teeth as she bounced lightly on her heels.

She shot a look over her shoulder, before shutting Chloe’s bedroom door.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to ask this once, and if the Bellas find out I’ll deny it, I’ve got a reputation to uphold,” Beca said. “But… Do you think… Would it be helpful…” Beca lowered her voice a fraction. “Would it help if we cuddled?”

Chloe’s eyes widened briefly before she smiled. “Are you actually asking me that?”

Beca rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said.

“But you’re not a cuddler.”

“No,” Beca said. “But you are. And… And it isn’t so bad when we cuddle, so yes or no?”

Chloe could see the blush creeping across Beca’s cheeks, and she knew what a big deal this was for her to ask.

“Yes,” Chloe said. “That would be really nice.”

Beca smiled. “I’ll be back in a second,” she said.

“Where are you going?”

“To tell our kids to fend for themselves for the rest of the night.”

Beca returned to the kitchen and the Bellas all looked at her expectantly.

She took one of the girls’ notebooks left on the table and tore out an empty page from the black. She rummaged in the kitchen drawers until she found a sharpie, and then scribbled do not disturb on the paper.

“If we aren’t out by dinner time, come and get us,” Beca said. “But otherwise, no one disturbs Chloe for the rest of the night, okay?”

“Okay,” Emily said.

“Is she alright?” Stacie asked.

“She will be,” Beca said. “She just needs a break.”

She pinned the note to Chloe’s door, and then shut it behind her.

Chloe was back to typing at her computer, but she looked up when Beca entered this time.

“Are you in a good place to stop?” Beca asked.

Chloe nodded and shut her laptop. She looked Beca up and down.

“What?” Beca asked.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Chloe asked.

Beca looked down at her outfit. It was her usual attire, black jeans and a checkered shirt slung over a black tank top. “I didn’t realise there was a dress code,” Beca said. “Should I have worn my tiara?”

Chloe laughed. “Shut up,” she said. “You can’t nap in jeans.”

“I’m not the one napping,” Beca said. “You are.”

Chloe shook her head. “How am I supposed to comfortably cuddle you if you’re dressed like that?”

Again, Beca looked down at her clothes. “It’s never stopped you before.”

“This is different,” Chloe said.

Beca didn’t bother asking how and just watched as Chloe started rummaging through her drawers. She handed her a pair of sweatpants. “Here, put those on.”

Beca took them and looked at Chloe expectantly.

“Oh,” Chloe said, catching on after a few seconds. She turned around so her back was to her. “Sorry.”

Beca changed out of her jeans and put on Chloe’s sweatpants. She then took off her shirt leaving her in just the tank top. “Better?” She asked.

Chloe turned back around. “Much better,” she said, grinning.

“Do you want white noise or anything?” Beca asked, looking down at her phone as she set a timer to stop them from over-sleeping.

“Can you put music on?”

“Sure,” Beca said, searching for the perfect playlist. She hit play and set her phone on Chloe’s nightstand.

They got into bed and Chloe wasted no time in cuddling into Beca’s side, her face buried in the crook of her neck, her arm wrapping around her waist.

“Is this okay?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah,” Beca said. She knew Chloe found it relaxing when someone played with her hair, so she brought her hand up to do that.

“You sure?”

“Positive,” Beca said.

Chloe felt some of the stress and tension she’d been carrying over the last few days begin to lift.

“Thank you for this,” Chloe said.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Beca said. “The amount you do for us, this is the least I could do. And don’t tell anyone I said this, but this isn’t exactly unpleasant.”

Chloe chuckled and Beca felt it tickle her neck. “No?”

“No,” Beca said. “I actually kinda like it.”

“I’ll keep that for a rainy day,” Chloe said.

“As if anyone would believe you,” she said, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. Chloe laughed again.

“I thought you weren’t going to be napping?”

“Yeah, well, we all know I’m full of crap,” Beca said, closing her eyes.

Beca’s alarm came far too quickly, and Beca managed to shut it off before Chloe woke up. It wasn’t even a conscious decision for her to close her eyes again and settle back down into her nap.

When dinner time came, Emily gave a tentative knock on the door that went unanswered.

She knocked again. And again.

“Beca told us to get them,” Stacie asked, taking hold of the handle and pushing the door open, ignoring Emily’s weak protests. “Oh my god,” she said when the door opened. “Go get the others.”

“No, we can’t,” Emily said, her voice reduced to a whisper. “Look at them, they’re so cute!”

They were both still fast asleep. Chloe still using Beca as a pillow, Beca’s head resting against Chloe’s.

“Fine,” Stacie said, shaking her head. She withdrew her phone and took a picture. “But that photo is going to come in handy.”

“Should we wake them?” Emily asked.

“You should wake them,” Stacie said. “I have to live here, and I’ve had enough experience of Beca when she’s grumpy. Plus they’d never be mad at you, you’re basically a child.”

“I’m eighteen,” Emily said.

“Which is exactly what a child would say,” Stacie said.

“But they look so comfy!” Emily said. “I don’t want to disturb them.”

“Beca told you to get them-”

“-she told all of us to get them-”

“-so you should-”

“Oh my god, we’re awake,” Beca grumbled, cutting them off. “Get outta here or you’re both grounded.”

#bechloe #pitch perfect fanfiction #fanfic #pitch perfect fanfic #fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #beca #chloe #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic #bechloe fluff #bechloe prompt #pitch perfect fic #fluff #no matter the timeline #one shot #bechloe one shot

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z0mb13-b0y · 7 months

Text

RE2 Leon x Goth M!Reader ☆

⚠️: alcohol use

TW: none (I dont believe)

It was just your typical routine, you went out to one of your favourite shops to grab something before leaving yet unfortunantly you bump into someone, dropping your bag..

He looked up at you immediately and started profusely apologising whilest picking up your things off the ground, honestly at that point you were just a little shocked you weren't yelled at to 'watch it'.. "Im really sorry, I didn't see where I was going.." he mumbled, picking up your things and giving them to you, but before he did he looked right at you and his cheeks lightly glowed red, "Woah your make ups really cool!" He cut himself off, smiling.

You chuckle lightly, finally getting a chance to respond.. "Its fine and thank you- uhh" you didn't know his name regrettably, "Leon" he smiled at you, putting his hand out.. "Leon Kennedy" his smile somehow managed to grow wider, "Im Y/N.." you smile back at him, shaking his hand. After you both dropped your hands he speaks up, "Y/N's a pretty name.. but I wasn't lying about your make up can you do it on me?!" He was like a puppy almost, just so full of energy and so excited you could've sworn you saw a tail wagging behind him.. "Im a bit busy today but I can give you my number?" You smile at him softly, getting a sticky note from your bag and writing your number on it and a little bat drawing next to it.. he couldn't stop smiling and took the paper, putting it into his pocket.

"Thank you so much, you're really cool.." he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly whilest kicking the ground, "Thank you, but I really do need to head off" you chuckle in response, "Im free Saturday." You tell him before walking off and waving goodbye. He kept standing there like an excited puppy, just smiling hard until you were out of his view so he could make his way to where ever he was headed.

Friday.

It was Friday, a day before your next encounter with 'Leon'. You managed to rub the sleep from your eyes since it was around 3am before getting a notification on your phone.. It was a new number and all it wrote was, "Hey its Leon, sorry for the late message:'C Is this Y/N?" 'He uses emoticons? Thats cute' you thought to yourself before replying to him saying that it was fine and that yeah its you.

You kept messaging for awhile just talking about the new remake of the game Evil Residence, you were always a big fan of the originals and turns out so was he. You never thought you'd get on so well with a man you bumped into on the street.. but you could definitely say you were gonna enjoy hanging out with him tomorrow. You found out he was a rookie cop and it was his first day TODAY even though it was already 5 in the morning, you laughed at him and told him to sleep for the next hour just so he can have some sort of energy.. 'Actually texting you has made me pretty hyper so im okay(^w^)'... you re-read the message a few times wondering how to respond, 'doesn't matter! You still need your beauty sleep.' You argued, chuckling on your bed.. 'Finee(╥﹏╥) I'll see you tomorrow:D' he finally agreed, so you both went to bed. You laid there awhile just thinking of tomorrow, smiling to yourself and giggling.. you both kept messaging through out the day when he was on break or just taking a sneaky peek at his phone to see if you'd messaged him, which you always were. You could confidently say you were excited to hang out with him tomorrow, including the other things you both wanted to do.

Saturday.

You both accidently did it again, staying up until 6am calling and messaging.. you agreed he'd come over at 11am with the drinks, you both decided that having a few drinks together and watching a movie would be great.

11:12 am

There's a knock on the door, you already know who it is, you run over to the door and open it, a smile already plastered on you're face. "12 minutes late" you chuckle, staring down Leon sarcastically, "Oh come on, I had to get the very specific whiskey you wanted.. its hard to find!" He laughed at you, holding 2 bottles of Diageo Whiskey whilest you had already stocked up on 3 bottles of Coke. "Diego or whatever it is wasn't easy to find.." he mumbled, walking inside your apartment, you laugh at him before correcting him about the name, "Its Diageo not 'Diego'". After coming in, pouring yourselves a nice mix of Whiskey and Coke you both finally sat down and agreed to watch *Halloween*, Rob Zombies specifically since Leon argued it was the best one, "I love the Halloween movies.." he whispers smiling at the TV, as the day went on and you continued watching more of the Halloween movies before you knew it it was already 9pm, and you both had downed a bottle of the whiskey with only 1 remainder not to mention drunk.. Leon was on the verge of passing put while you were enjoying the movie, you felt a weight shift onto your shoulder.. it was Leon, and he was out cold. You chuckle to yourself quietly before wrapping your arm around him and bringing him in closer.

The movie finished and Leon was still out like a light, you sigh and gently get up.. laying him on the couch and grabbing one of the square pillows and putting it under his head aswell as a spare blanket. You give yourself a quick pat on the back for helping this drunk get more comfortable.

You start to walk off with the idea of heading to bed and checking up on him in the morning.. that was before you felt someone grab your wrist. Leon was still half asleep, mumbling.. "dont.. dont go." His eyes were still shut, and maybe it was the alcohol that made you stay.. you stood there for a few seconds before he pulled you onto the couch with him.. almost immediately wrapping his arms and legs around you with his head digging into your chest.. "Leon?" You whisper, in hopes to not disturb him much.. he grumbled in response, "Do you want me to stay?" You ask again, your eyes drooping due to the long night behind you, he shook his head on your chest. You wrapped your arms around him and laid for awhile before finally falling asleep, with Leon in your arms..

DONE!! IM SO SO SO SORRY FOR NOT UPLOADING OMFG. I MIGHT MAKE A PART 2 IF ITS HIGHLY DEMANDED LMAO:3

#m!reader #x male reader #gay #leon x m!reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x male reader #leon kennedy #re2r leon #re2 remake

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onelocket · 1 year

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Hello there,I hope you're doing well both mentally and physically,and taking good care of yourself.

I really enjoy your writing style, it's delightful,and decided to be brave enough to make a request myself,if you're up for it.I personally have been sick for a while,thanks to my anemia, immediately going back to being horribly sick just as I was starting to recover from the last one.

If you could do a writing with about this situation with Fyodor and his significant other(them being sick,not Fyodor lol),I would appreciate it very much,you don't have to tho :)

Take good care of yourself

hello anon! you’re so sweet, i hope by now you’re doing alright too. i’m so sorry you have to deal with anemia and have to be sick at the same time, you have my full prayers for your health. i wish you all the quickest recovery and do listen to yourself as well — take care! thank you for requesting ♡

Fyodor with his anemic and sick lover

involves -- anemic gn reader, a bit of religion involved but not too focused on it

5 headcanons and 1 small scenario for you, anon ♡

⚘

He gets undeniably nervous when you’re sick. Again.

Not that he’ll make it obvious, or be the first thing he shows you, of course. It’s not his style, and he always knows how to deal with things. But if it comes to his lover? You receive a more caring and concerned side of his that he’s always a little too prideful to show to anyone else. You being sick again will worry him… but there’s nothing he can’t do to help you.

"Milaya, you’ve been sneezing and stifling a lot lately. Hadn’t you been recovering? …How about you wear something lighter and we’ll talk with a cup of tea, alright?"

He won’t pressure you by trying to immediately identify if you’re just going through a cold, or something else. Accompanied with his attentiveness, Fyodor can grasp a better understanding of how you feel just by looking at the symptoms you’re showing. Only then if you’re all comfortable and warm will he talk to you more… the last thing he wants is you uncomfortable, had you just been recovering only for it to say nevermind.

He’ll have his eye on you more than how he had previously,

Since a part of him thinks he also had something to deal with this, deep down. He won’t be open with it since his comfort isn’t the main priority right now, and he’ll just find a better time for it to talk. But while you’re sick and tired, it’s almost as if his eyes were made to look after you. With your anemia, Fyodor tends to be a bit more closer in case you’d ever stand up too fast or feel an uneasy linger in your head.

"Take it slow. I’ll help you, you mustn’t need to stand. What is it that you want?"

"Can you sit up, milaya? Let’s get you in this shirt, it’s lighter than the one you’re wearing."

To put it short, well, you’d be in bed most of the time. And if you really want to get something yourself or need to use the restroom, he’ll let you — but he has to come with. Except for the bathroom, of course, he’ll only stay by the door. Your privacy is also important, and he knows you’re still able to move by yourself. He’s just a bit more… attentive, is all.

Soft and short kisses with a comforting silence.

Fyodor also understands the situation you’re going through, so he knows what you’d probably prefer. He also gets sick from time to time and he can not control it — and you’ve been there for him when he does as well. But for now, it’s his turn. With your already lacking energy crumpled to a harsher state, both of you don’t really talk much unless it’s required. And even so, he’s usually the only one vocal, and you’d reply with a nod, a shake of your head, or by just staring with an expression he can read. When you struggle to speak, however, that’s as if a trigger that hits him to just comfort you and assure that there’s no need to waste your energy.

"…Shh, milaya. It’s okay, come here." Fyodor moves his hands up to your waist, being careful with lifting you up from the bed as you sit, a soft sigh escaping you. "I’m sorry." You whisper.

"There is no need to be." He whispers back, peppering kisses on your cheeks. Your hands were unavailable for him right now, so your soft cheeks will do. Silence follows, yet nothing in both of you says to speak and break it.

Even if you have the strength to talk; which was good for him, there will still be a thought in him that wants to just kiss and kiss your head till you smile. It doesn’t turn into a session, unfortunately or not, Fyodor keeping his kisses short but gentle and almost a surprise you get you a little startled, but nonetheless enjoy the gesture.

He never leaves your side unless he’s going to attend church.

(Obviously also when he needs to get or buy something, of course). Fyodor will stick with you at home for the majority of what he can do, willing to pause his plans needed to do just for you. When you’re deep asleep is only when he moves to do some small tasks, but a lot of the day and night — he is with you. Yet there are also days he has to leave, and it’s with a reason just for you.

"Milaya, I’m going to the church. Stay here and call me when you need to, okay?"

"…I won’t force you to stay, but please be safe." You smile weakly, and he hums in reply.

He didn’t want to leave you unattended at home, but this was something he needed to do for you. Fyodor’s prayers are always answered by God, correct? And he doesn’t even need to step foot on the body of Christ, he just prays and his prayers will reach God. But because of your poison of making him indulge in the nature of love for you, he can’t help but find his body walking to the church as he smiled at the familiar sight — closing his eyes to pray for your well-being; deep down knowing that God can’t deny this now that he took the time to come up to Him.

Flowers and stuffed toys, soup and tea.

Every time he gets home from church or just buying something out, he’s always returning with a bouquet in his hands. Either small or big, it’s something Fyodor always gifts you in hopes of your recovery to win over the sick feeling you have to deal with. Lavenders and snowdrops are usually his field of choice, but there are also flowers he brings that are bright — for it is traditionally the message of telling one to get well soon. He also brings small stuffed toys that are usually bears or whatever animal you’d prefer to cuddle up with, but it’s only when you ask him to buy you one.

"I’m back, milaya. I found a beautiful set of lavenders while I was heading back, as well as some snowdrops. Would you like me to put them in your vase, hm?"

"Truly… would you really cuddle this up more than me?" Fyodor jokes out, a soft and curious look on his face that almost betrays the feeling as you chortle, "I don’t want you sick, that’s all."

But honestly, you also wished you could, didn’t you? Aside from flowers and plush toys, he’ll waste no hesitation and question when you ask for a warm bowl of soup, or tea/any hot drink of your choice. He’ll mostly deny your requests of anything cold or sweet, politely trying to promise you that you’ll get what you want when you’re all recovered and better.

scenario

It’s been a rainy day today. You were still all cooped up on your warm bed, blankets there to support you against the cold while you sigh wearily, missing a certain comfort. Fyodor’s comfort.

He was out to attend church, as he usually does. He told you last night so it wouldn’t be a surprise for you today, but it’s still a little sad.

You know religion is important to Fyodor, yet you can’t control your emotions, can’t you?

Hugging the small creamy plush he bought for you, you idly stare at the empty bowl which initially had soup for you to consume as he was out.

"Why did I have to get sick again?" You mumbled to yourself, turning your head to the plush as you face it in your direction like it could understand you. "I thought I was recovering well from my previous one…"

Muffled rain and a silent room replies to your question as you squeeze the plush just a bit before settling it down beside you, hearing a knock on your door.

It’s Fyodor, surely?

You leave your silence as consent for him to open the door as he carefully swings the doorknob open, a faint smile on his face to see yours. You return the soft smile, tilting your head to the side to see him holding another bouquet of flowers. It was smaller and simpler, yet a sweet gesture nonetheless.

"I’m back, milaya." He whispered, closing the door behind him as he walked to you. "Welcome back." You reply, seeing him slide down the bouquet on your empty vase sitting on your bedside table. The smell of lavender and snowdrops please your scent as your smile softens up, "How are you feeling?"

"I should be asking you that," Fyodor hummed, "Have you gotten proper rest while I was out?" taking off his coat as he sits down on the chair facing your bed.

"Not enough," You sigh. "I still feel too cold and a bit dizzy."

"…Give me your hands." He whispered, shifting his position so his knees were almost pressed on your bed.

You simply follow, sitting up from your bed. You hear him coo, "There now, don’t move too fast," which you also complied. You didn’t want a familiar black sight to win you over when you were about to get a hold of his hands.

As soon as your hands met Fyodor’s, there was a second of surprise when you felt a little warmer in his hold. Both of you were anemic, so a warm touch was rare. But there’s no reason to decline this, is there?

"You’re warm."

"I know, milaya."

And you wouldn’t give it up now. You lightly squeeze his hands as your fingers interlock themselves between his, to which his faint smile softened up to. He brings your and his hands up, pressing a softer kiss on your knuckles. "Would you like me to leave the room so you can try resting some more?" He asks you.

"No, don’t leave.. you just came back." You whisper, closing your eyes as the comfort of both Fyodor and the muffled rain made you feel a little better. "Stay a bit, Fyodor."

There was a part in Fyodor that wanted to speak up his concern for you and comfort you with all he can, wanting you to know how badly he wants you to get well and recover from this discomforting situation you’re in that also brings displeasure to him.

But alas, he’s not a man who says it all. Fyodor’s smile is soon to be accompanied with a gentle gaze with his purple eyes, his thumb rubbing your own.

"…Of course."

#krei headcanons #krei & anon #bsd dostoevsky #bsd imagines #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor imagines #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x y/n #bsd fyodor #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor headcanons #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor hcs #fyodor fluff #fyodor dostoevsky

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miscellaneoussmp · 8 months

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I need to start writing more fluff/comfort stuff. Here's Pac and Tubbo needing sleep and Fit gets them to go to bed:

It had been twenty-six, no twenty-seven hours, since Tubbo or Pac had even attempted resting. Hyped up on overly sweet swiftness potions, which sent jolts of energy up their spins meant to be used for running instead of being used to prolong wakefulness. An extra hour to finish up one thing turned to the sun rising and now sitting below where it had sat the day before when the project started.

Conversation was easy. Being filled with possible reasons why Tubbo's current project was being very difficult, how the swiftness potion almost acts like caffeine, and ways to describe the buzzing underneath their skin. Electrical heat, Tubbo described. Pure adrenaline, Pac replied. Memories attached to those descriptions remained unspoken or forgotten.

Tubbo lays under his machine, with a wrench in his hand. They had taken to calling the machine Tubbo's new baby, dubbing it Tub Jr. Both ignored the ache in their chests as they personified the machine. Pac's potion-making setup was makeshift for now. Swiftness and the occasional night vision brew in the stand. He knows that these potions would be more effective if he had a proper setup. Pac didn't bother to cork the bottles over half the time. Instead, he immediately downs them or slides them under the gap in the machine where Tubbo lays.

Pac sat leaning over a potion stand, and Tubbo under a machine is the scene Fit walks in on. When Pac stands up to greet him, he stumbles just a tiny bit. Tubbo almost hits his head while squirming out from under his project. Fit is a bit surprised to see them back in their exact positions from yesterday. After all, he assumed they went to bed after he left for the night. He was incorrect, very obviously incorrect. The dark circles under Pac's eyes–moreso eye, the one that isn't covered by his dark hair–are more noticeable than before. Once Tubbo removes his goggles, his dark circles become obvious as well. The youngest of the three grabbed one of light blue potions, uncorking it with his teeth and drinks. He shakes his head slightly as he feels the buzz strengthen itself underneath his skin.

When Fit asks how long they've been awake. Tubbo and Pac give different answers, both unsure on the exact timing. Tubbo explained that he needed to fix this one thing, and he just couldn't figure it out. This is when Fit, half jokingly suggests sleep. Pac explains they don't need sleep since as long as you stayed pretty still a swiftness potion could act like caffeine.

It actually didn't make much convincing after he suggested a sleepover in the room so they could get back to work after waking up. Pillows and blankets found their way to the floor, far enough from any mechanical parts as not to get caught on anything.

Of course, Tubbo would be the type to spread out fully as he sleeps. It fits his personality. A pillow lays on one his arms and another under his head. He looks comfortable.

Pac is the type to sleep on his side, curled up with one hand grabbing onto the pillow under him and the other covering his face. It definitely fits his personality. A blanket sits on top of him. He looks comfortable.

Fit is the type to watch over his friends as they get well-deserved sleep.

#qsmp #qsmp fanfiction (sorta)#qsmp drabble #qsmp tubbo #qsmp pac #qsmp fit #q!tubbo #q!pactw #q!fitmc #something simple and and kinda silly for yall #i just think theyre a fun trio!!#i hope yall enjoy it really!!!

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sodoshame · 9 months

Note

Hey, if you won't mind, can you write for a really sweet and comfy quality time with Cirrus? I rarely find fics or hc's for her n it would be cool if u could do it! (nsfw or sfw upto you ^-^)

Hi anon!! Sure thing, we all need more Cirrus! Hope it’s what you’re after!!

Sick.

Cirrus Ghoulette x GN!Reader

Warnings: basically just fluff, mention of feeling sick.

A/N: This is so short I’m sorry!! It’s been a hectic couple of days lmao. Hope you enjoy though!

It’s almost 1pm, and you’re still snuggled up in bed- the covers wrapped around you tightly. You woke up feeling awful; stomach ache, feeling sick and absolutely freezing. Your phone had pinged multiple times, but you simply didn’t have the energy to answer it, groaning softly every time you heard the loud ping.

“Y/N? Are you in there, honey?” You heard Cirrus call out. You’re just about able to muster up a whine, loud enough for her to hear.

Cirrus cautiously opens the door, looking over at you curled up in bed. Frowning, she makes her way over to you.

“You okay, Y/N?” She asks as she makes her way to sit down on the edge of your bed.

Letting out another whine, you shake your head slightly.

“Hmm..” Cirrus says as she gently placed the back of her hand to your forehead. Her eyes widen ever so slightly at feeling how warm you are.

“Sweetie, you’re burning up…” She mumbles as she goes to pull the covers off of you.

“Cold.” You murmur, your hands gripping the top of the covers.

“Feel sick…” You add, unable to get full sentences out.

Cirrus sighs and swings her legs over the bed, shuffling to lay down next to you; the ghoulette puts her arm around your shoulders gently, moving your head to gently rest against her. Immediately, you adjust yourself so you’re snuggling into her side, whimpering quietly.

“I know, dear. Can I do anything? Have you eaten yet?” She questions, her free hand gently coming down to stroke a stray hair out of your face. You shake your head, staying pressed to her side.

“How about I put on a movie, hmm? I’ll stay until you feel better…” Cirrus suggests, still looking at you with concern. Seeing you nod, she reaches over and grabs the TV remote, switching through the channels until she finds a movie that sounds somewhat interesting. She gently wraps her other arm around your waist, softly tracing circles on your side with her fingers.

“Cirrus?” You mumble, lifting your head up slightly to look at her.

“Yeah, honey?” She responds, her eyes focused on the TV screen.

“Will you stay for a while?” You mumble again.

“Of course, I’ll stay here as long as you need me, sweetie.” She replies, leaning her head down so she can press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“M’thank you.” You murmur, nuzzling yourself back against her.

Cirrus smiles, pulling you slightly closer to her.

#ghost #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #nameless ghoul x reader #nameless ghoulettes #nameless ghoulette x reader #cirrus #cirrus ghoulette #cirrus ghoul #cirrus x reader #cirrus ghost #cirrus ghoulette x reader #cirrus comfort

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shankschewtoy · 2 years

Text

a/n - this is part two bec I couldn’t handle writing all four at once lmao :’)

Warnings ⚠️ - angst, g/n reader

I didn’t even get to say goodbye ..

Zoro

A normal evening, except Zoro was busy with whatever training he always did. You cracked open the door, seeing him swinging the bar full of ginormous weights attached. You heard him muttering numbers, counting around 1000 of these swings. You leaned on the doorway, just watching him train for a little while. You always admired his determination to train until he’s the best, to work hard until he’s satisfied. Zoro noticed you after 10 minutes of your silent observing. “What do you need?” He asked, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel he wrapped around his neck. You honestly just needed a hug, maybe some cuddles? There was no reason behind your feelings, you just felt.. Tired, tired of life maybe. It was hard to put into words exactly how you felt and why. Zoro noticed your lack of energy, as well as the change in how you spoke, “Are you going to finish soon?” You asked, your voice quiet, almost lethargic. He’s learned to become extremely observant, and he takes extra care around you because he loves you oh so much. He was starting to get a bit worried about you, thinking he should take a break to see if you were ok. “I’m finished now, let’s go.” He replied quickly, putting on a shirt, walking out of the training room with you. The last thing he wanted was for you to not feel happy, he needed your happiness for him to be happy.

“I think I just need a nap.” You replied honestly, yawning as you leaned against his shoulder. Zoro was a man of few words most of the time, and this was no different. He opened the door to your shared room, letting you climb into bed while he tried to wipe all the sweat off his body. He climbed into bed right next to you, wrapping one of his bulky arms around you, holding you close to his chest. Your ear to his heart, listening to the calming pulse in his chest. You nuzzled into his warmth, getting yourself more comfortable as he leaned his head against the top of yours, already starting to doze off. It was moments like these that made you feel better, the soft things that could just make your heart melt in an instant. His arm around you, strong, firmly holding you close to him. His soft snores lulling you to sleep, a steady heartbeat that echoed through your ears that always seemed to allow you the gift of peaceful rest. It was all just so.. perfect.

For the first time, Zoro was the first to shift in his sleep. He opened his eye slowly, looking down at you, gazing lovingly at your sleeping figure. He had a soft smile on his face, one that showed so much love and care for the love of his life, you. He gazed at each of your features, your h/c hair that was always soft to his touch, your closed eyes.. He noticed tears pricking the corners of your eyes, some droplets attaching to your eyelashes. He gently wiped them away with his calloused thumb, trying his best to not scratch you too much. He looked concerned, “Y/n, why are you crying? Was it a nightmare or something?” He asked in his gruff sounding voice. He situated himself to sit up slightly more as he wrapped his other arm around you, lifting you directly onto his lap. You didn’t respond to any of his words nor his actions, this wasn’t normal. “Y/n- can you hear me?? Are you just sleeping?” He asked, starting to shake you gently, thinking of any way he could get you to respond. More concern started to come to him, worries filling his mind endlessly. His brows furrowed with such worry as he desperately tried anything he could do to wake you up. The last step would be to check if you still had a pulse.. He didn’t want to do it, he didn’t want to see the answer. Somewhere in his mind, he already knew. His fingers pressed against the side of your neck, his fingertips slightly shaking while he didn’t feel the familiar pulse of your heartbeat. Maybe he was just checking in the wrong place right? He checked everywhere, your wrists, the left side of your chest, fingertips, what else could he have checked? Your lips were pale, your skin was pale, your body cold to the touch.

“Damn it- wake up y/n! Come on!” He shouted, his eye wide with worry and grief. His teeth were clenched, his jaw starting to ache from the pressure. His hands were desperately clinging onto your cold limbs, his warming touch trying to bring you back to him. Where was your loving smile that greeted him in the morning? Where was the familiar warmth of your body right beside him? Why couldn’t he feel that anymore? Where did you go? Why did you have to leave..? He held onto you tightly, struggling to not start screaming. His grief manifested as rage, anger. He was shaking, his breath becoming fast. He started yelling in pain, screaming as he buried his face in the crook of your cold neck. He was crying out how much pain he felt, how much he missed you already. He needed you. He desperately needed you, and no matter how hard he’d try, nothing could ever replace you. He was afraid, why did you leave him so soon? All these feelings, all these emotions were too much for him. Screaming was the only thing he could do to help himself. His voice was lost after a couple minutes, yet he kept screaming, not being able to hear his own voice as he violently shook, holding your body like a glass sculpture. “Why?!” He managed to shout in between his hoarse screams. His mouth was open with the intention to scream, yet his voice was so tired, no sound came out. Perhaps this made it a much sadder sight. His yells were inaudible, so soft, yet filled with such pain and anguish. All he could think was.. why? Why did you have to leave?

Luffy

Sitting on the figurehead of the ship was the strawhat pirate, Luffy, the love of your life. He sat there with his usual big grin, spreading ear to ear. His eyes filled with excitement, energy, and just.. Freedom. He had the look of freedom in his eyes, as if nothing could ever hold him back. He looked behind him, directly at you. He laughed, “Hey y/n!! Come sit with me!” He shouted excitedly, beckoning for you to come and join him. You couldn’t help but softly smile, walking over towards the edge of the ship as his stretching arms grabbed you, whipping you right in front of him, almost between his legs. He laughed, wrapping his arms around you as you leaned back into his chest, the chilly air making you nuzzle more into his warmth. His scent, the familiar smell of the meal he had eaten before, it was oddly comforting. His heartbeat was naturally a bit fast, yet hearing it slowed yours down, calming you softly.

He put his hat on your head, the scratchy pieces of straw tickling your forehead, “Isn’t this fun y/n? Look at that bird!” He shouted with his huge grin that was filled with such excitement and joy. His smile could always make your days brighter, his presence alone bringing the sun into your life. You smiled softly at him as you leaned closer to him, the hat allowing you to have some shade on this sunny afternoon. You wrapped your arms around the rubber boy, gently closing your eyes, comfortably situated in front of him. He kept his arms around you in a loving bear hug, still continuing to admire the shimmering ocean waves that crashed against the ship. The seagulls that flew above in a formation that seemed to change every five seconds, the salt filled air, the chilly breeze that was just cold enough to give you chills. Being around Luffy felt so safe, as if nothing could ever happen to you while you were in his arms. You smiled into his chest as you started to become more and more sleepy. The warmth that spread into your body from his hug allowed you to fall asleep quickly. He also started to get a bit tired, your presence was soothing for him, and a very necessary thing for whenever he sleeps. He doesn’t rest very well without you otherwise. His head started leaning forward, eyelids heavy and struggling to stay open. He ended up slumping entirely into you, his head falling into the comfort of the crook of your neck. He smelled the scent of your shampoo, all while keeping his arms firmly wrapped around you to make sure you both wouldn’t fall off. His snores were right into your ear, but you couldn’t seem to hear them at all. Nothing could wake you up now.

Luffy grumbled something groggily, sniffing the air and becoming excited because of Sanji’s dinner that would soon be done. He tapped you softly, giggling excitedly for some meat that he waited so long for. When you didn’t budge, he looked a bit confused and annoyed. “Y/nnnnn- helloooo? C’mon Sanji’s making dinner! Let’s go let’s go!” He shouted excitedly, shaking you back and forth like a madman. Why didn’t you reluctantly get up, feeling dizzy because of his actions? Where was that familiar look of tiredness on your face that usually greeted Luffy on days like these? He removed his hat that was covering your face, and he immediately noticed the tears that pricked the corners of your eyes. His entire expression changed into a slightly more concerned one. His energy was now entirely focused on you, why were you crying? What happened? “Y/n- are you crying?? What’s wrong?” He asked, poking your cheeks and trying to stretch them out to get you to wake up. He did everything, he tried opening your eyelids himself, making the most- horrific faces with his rubber cheeks, and continuously shaking you back and forth. Why didn’t you respond to anything?! He grumbled something inaudible, only sounds of panic and worry coming out of his mouth as he continued to try and wake you up. He tried holding your hands.. But they were so cold that even he was a bit shocked, taken aback by the sudden freezing temperature. “Nami-! Y/n’s really cold- grab a blanket!” He shouted frantically, squeezing your hands over and over again to try and get you to respond. “You’re sick? Maybe tired? C’mon don’t be like Zoro!” He shouted as the rest of the crew started to become worried about your condition. Nami brought blankets, helping Luffy wrap you up inside them. “Nami- why isn’t y/n waking up?” He asked, holding you in his arms, holding your freezing fingers with his own. Nami worriedly put two fingers to your neck, and her eyes widened, her eyes filled with horror, welling up with tears.

Chopper rushed over, trying to find your non-existent heartbeat, chasing for any signs of life in you. Luffy was frozen, his eyes blank, as if there was no more life left in him. He couldn’t hear anything, he couldn’t hear some of his friends crying about your death, he couldn’t see anything but your dead body in his arms. Why were you dead..? No one could’ve killed you, not on his watch. Yet.. Why were you dead?! He made a promise to himself that he’d protect you, that he’d make sure you were safe with him and his crew. So why is your dead body in his arms? He was too shocked, this was all too much, so many thoughts were filling his head at once. He let go of you, watching your figure lay in front of him, those tears that pricked your eyes finally falling down your pale cheeks. “Luffy.. I’m sorry..” Chopper said in a soft voice, putting his hoof on Luffy’s forearm to try and console him. When he looked towards the rest of his crew, they instantly froze. His eyes were filled with such hatred, pain, and regret. It was like all he wanted was revenge. But on who? Even Luffy didn’t know, so much rage was present, why did you die? His eyes, completely filled with hatred. It gave everyone a scare, they all knew how much he cared about you, how often he thought of you, how he loved you to the moon and back.

The fact that you died.. On his watch, in his arms. It only made his emotions so much worse, this was his fault wasn’t it? He internalized it, why did he not watch over you more carefully? Why didn’t he help you? He was on his knees, still clutching onto your hands that almost froze his own to yours. Even though so much hatred was present in his gaze, tears were pouring down his cheeks, grief was the overwhelming atmosphere. His hands were shaking, desperately trying to find your warm touch again. The crew took a step back, allowing Luffy to hold your hands for a little while. The only thought that filled his mind was, “why did I let this happen?” But he realized.. Would there have been anything he could’ve done? Too much. All of this.. was too much for him to bear.

a/n - I’m sad and crackers are my cheer up food- so I have an entire box in my lap-

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece hcs #luffy x reader #Luffy #luffy one piece #Luffy op #monkey d. luffy #luffy x y/n #angst #zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #Zoro one piece #one piece angst

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getsojaded · 2 years

Text

pre-show playlist || calum hood

word count: 1.9k+

warnings: swearing

a/n: draft while i write mini series :) not entirely sure why atlanta is the first city that came into my head but it was so if ur from atlanta this one’s for u LOL. also, was actually lol’ing at the fake stan twt tweets i had to make LOLOL

—

“Thank you, Atlanta! I love you!” Are the last words you yell into the mic, heading off the stage before the lights go out.

It had been your first show of your world tour after Covid had put the world at a temporary pause, and needless to say, your adrenaline levels were going through the roof. If there’s one thing you loved most, it was performing for the people that love and appreciate you for what you do.

“You fucking killed it! Congrats Y/N,” one of your team members exclaimed, rushing to give you a hug. “Thank you,” you sighed, leaning into their hug. You missed this, you missed travelling the country by tour bus, soundchecking old songs that made your fans go crazy and answering their question, and you missed having your favourite people standing by your side as you did what you valued and appreciated so deeply.

Things were slightly different though, and you couldn’t help but take notice of them.

Calum was by your side your last tour, engulfing you in a big hug and kissing your forehead the minute you got off stage. He was there to help you choose your outfits for each show, to take you to the best restaurants and coffee shops in each city for the minimal hours you spent there, and to give you those loving and reassuring words whenever you got those last-minute butterflies before performing.

You loved Calum, and Calum loved you — there was no doubt about that. But as much as you loved the tour life, it wasn’t easy. Not only was that complicated, being in the spotlight, along with your love, was one of the hardest things you had ever had to do through.

With fake news articles that drew too much attention towards you two, to scheduling conflicts that led to unsolved arguments, to the fans.. that were just being fans (you know.) — it got too much to handle. For the both of you.

So when you started using Google Maps to find five star cafés, taking a bit too much time to decide what outfit to wear, and breathing in and out for longer periods of time before you hopped on stage, you realized that you’d need some time to adjust to the new aspects of touring. And quite frankly, you hated it. You missed it. You missed him.

You missed the way he’d hold you at night in your shared bunk, telling you “Sleep well, you did an amazing job”. You missed the way he’d drag you out of bed to take a daily mirror selfie in the bus, determined to have a photo from each city you visited, and you missed the way he’d-

“Okay, that’s enough,” you whispered to yourself, shaking out of your thoughts and getting up from the couch you were sitting at, taking a moment to regain your energy.

You walked up to the full body mirror in your dressing room, snapping a quick photo before posting it to your Twitter account.

y/ny/l/n: atlanta i fucking loved u, thank u. excited to see the rest of u on tour. x

Within seconds you were getting likes, retweets and replies on your tweet. You took a quick moment to change into comfy clothes and exit the venue, as it was now time to relax on the tour bus.

You opened up your phone onto the Twitter replies to scroll through the replies, and like and respond to a few.

killedmytime: THIS FIT IS SO FIRE

calumsboba: you did amazing y/n!!

yungy/n: bro i lost my phone at the concert i’m tweeting off my laptop rn

You giggled at the last one, responding with “drop ur venmo i got the next one” before continuing to scroll through your mentions and notifications.

disconnectedvol6: @Y/NY/L/N DID YOU PURPOSELY PUT MOVING ALONG ON THE PRE SHOW PLAYLIST

whywontuluvme: @/disconnectedvol6 BRO I WAS THERE EARLIER AND EVERYBODY IN PIT WAS FUCKING LOSING IT WHEN IT PLAYED

wfttwtafff: i’m going to cry @y/ny/l/n is still so supportive of calum even after they broke up

outofurlimit: i’m fucking SCREAMING SHE HAD THE AUDACITY. MOVING ALONG TOO?

heartbakegirl: i cant believe u put moving along on the playlist omfg divorced parents <;/3

Oh God.

Okay, maybe it was just your fans in your responses that took notice of your ex boyfriend’s band’s song. You quickly searched up “y/n calum” and immediately groaned at the loads of tweets regarding your show, that song and that playlist.

notinthesameways: i almost fucking peed myself when i heard moving along i wonder if calum knows y/n put it on her playlist

y/nswildflower: i miss calum and y/n omg

dontstoppa: bro let’s talk abt the fact that out of every song y/n chose the one that’s literally about a breakup AND calum wrote it girlie knew what she was doing

Contrary to that last tweet, you actually had no idea what you were doing!

You didn’t mean for 5SOS’ song to play before your show started. In fact, you hadn’t even made a specific pre-show playlist — you just decided to use your “currently”. Which… has Moving Along on it and with your luck, of course it came on shuffle.

Yes, you listened to their new album. Yes, you thought it was fucking spectacular. Yes, Moving Along was your favourite song off the album because not only does Calum’s verse get your heart throbbing but it also makes you wonder if you popped up into his mind while he was writing it.

And yes, you added it to your on repeat playlist because you couldn’t stop listening to it.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he had done the same thing with your album: thoroughly listen to it, fall in love with it more and more everytime, and add his favourites into his liked songs.

You also couldn’t help but wonder what he’s up to right now. Was he preparing for touring, just like you? You hadn’t seen any posts in regards to shows from their band account, along with the four boys’.

And now you were wondering why the hell he was giving you a call, your heart skipping a beat once you saw the contact name Hood xo appear on your screen, along with his contact picture of you, him, and Duke.

“What the fuck,” you whispered, letting it ring a couple more times before you picked up the phone. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi, Y/N. Good to talk to you again.”

“You too.”

You were scared. You were scared and you’ve never been put in the position of not knowing what to say to him, except now. As much as you tried to say more in response to him, no words would come out.

“You know why I’m calling you.” He simply stated, sounding a lot more confident than you had expected, which took you by surprise.

“Caught me lacking, huh?” You asked, earning a soft giggle from Calum in response. “Okay look, I didn’t even mean to play it before my show. I gave your album a listen when it first dropped and I was like wow this shit is good so I added one of my favourites onto my playlist and I used that specific playlist so I didn’t even think about it and-“

“I’m really glad you listened to the album.” He simply states, your heart skipping a beat as you bring your hand up to cover your mouth. “And I’m glad you found a few favourites on there.”

“Yeah, you guys did so well on it.” You’re nervous. You’re fucking nervous, and you have no idea how Calum is handling this conversation as well as he is. Despite the pit in your stomach, your curiosity got the best of you. “D-Did you listen to mine too?”

“‘Course I did. Fell in love with it, baby.” Your heart flutters at the sound of the pet name that falls out of his mouth, feeling the nostalgia and intimacy his voice is laced with. “Thank you,” you respond just above a whisper, before the line fills with silence. Slightly awkward silence.

Calum doesn’t want to be the one to bring it up. Especially after such a wholehearted, sweet conversation. But he has some questions, and doesn’t want to end this call with unfinished answers.

“I miss you. I miss us.” He confesses, tears threatening to spill from his eyes and he silently thanks himself for only clicking on an audio call, and not a FaceTime one.

“I know.” You respond as quiet as possible, not risking to hear crack in your voice. “I do too. It’s not the same without you here. Tour’s different. I caught myself thinking about you every time I noticed something was off.” You say to him honestly, unaware of the aching in his chest that you caused. He hated the thought of your emotions shifting negatively because of him, and if he could, he would do everything in his power to reverse it if it meant you were happy.

“What happened to us?”

“Cal…” You sigh. You felt this question coming, but you weren’t prepared to answer it. “You know what happened to us. It was just... circumstances, and time.” Was all you could say, with complete honestly.

“Well, what about now? What do the circumstances and time have for us now?” He asks you in a low voice. You shake your head and laugh at the irony of that follow up question, rubbing your forehead with your hand.

“Well, I’m still on tour, so it looks like not much has changed.” You respond, earning a chuckle from Calum. “Shouldn’t you be heading off on tour too?”

“Taking a break first. Don’t really know why, Ashton suggested that we break first before touring and we all just kinda went with it.” He responds. “When’s your LA show?”

“Last show of the tour. Then it’s me time. Staying in LA for quite some time, then gonna try and go back to hometown for a bit.”

“What would you do if I asked you if you were okay with me going there?” He asks, with the slightest bit of hope. It’s worth a shot, he tells himself. It’s worth a shot if it has anything to do with you.

“Then, I’d tell you that I’d love to have you at my last show. Do you want to be there?” You tell him, with a smile planted across your face, unaware of the smirk forming across his as well. “Nothing else I want more than to be there, love.”

“I guess I’ll be seeing you then?” You ask, trying to sound as confident as possible, but you’re well aware that Calum can see (more like, hear) right through your façade. “Let’s see where the circumstances and time take us this time around.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” “Me too.”

The line falls silent once again, but now it’s comfortable. A silence that warms your heart and calms you down. A silence that eases your mind and relaxes your body.

“Oh, and Cal?” You speak up.

“Yes?”

“Let’s not let the circumstances and time fuck us over again. I’d rather not let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to me a second time around.”

“You are the last thing I’m ever gonna lose again, baby. Mark my words.”

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barcalover86 · 1 year

Text

GAVI ONE SHOT part 3

THE END - The last time

Little spoiler alert - Gavi is fighting for his life-

Summary: Despite your love for each other, you both know that you can't be together.

angst!!!!!

Part 2 here👆

Adele- Set Fire To The Rain

He felt like the world was spinning. He couldn't see right because of his tears in his eyes. Everybody panicked when they saw the 18 year old boy at the edge of his life.

His face was pale with no emotions. Doctors were shouting at him to say something or at least to give a sign.

He could hear them, and that hurt him the most. He wanted to hear your voice, he was desperate for the touch of your sound.

Why open his eyes when he wouldn't see you? Why waste his energy for nothing.

"Gavi, stay here with us" one doctor said.

Xavi was now panicking the most. What was wrong with his boy? His little-big player, his son.

He was hurt and hoping that everything was going to be alright.

The match was going, Barca was winning, but no one was really watching it. Every thought on the stadium was for Gavi. People were praying for the player.

Gavi now was in the ambulance, on his way to the hospital.

You were in front of your tv panicking. What happened to him? You took your phone shaking and tried to call some people you knew for you to know more details about his condition.

You called and called but of course no one was answering. They still had an important match to win.

Two days passed. You didn't know one detail about Gavi. No one would want to tell you anything saying only to pray for him. You couldn't sleep being afraid that when you weren't awake, something could happen to him.

You begged God to help him. He has his life in front of him, he can't die now.

Another few days went by, and you still didn't know anything. While you were trying to keep up with school work, Xavi was staying with the boy.

He was ok now, no longer in the hospital. These days, he had to stay home, far away from training.

He missed you. You were the reason for his happiness and pain. You missed him, so why was the reason you both didn't know anything about each other?

"Can I ask you anything? But to be honest with me" Gavi asked his couch.

"Por supuesto"

"Why don't you want to tell me anything about her?"

Xavi remained silent.

"Is she still in Barcelona?"

You were still working for the club. The day you talked with Xavi before the match, he told you he can't fire you. You were still young, and making mistakes was something totally ok, but he couldn't just go past by what happened before punishing you somehow. He assured you that you could still work here, but only helping older players, over 25 years old. You had to do your job right, and while you were in your free time, you could see anyone, even Gavi.

You were so thankful for his forgiveness, but without Gavi, things weren't the same.

"Si, Pablo. She is still in Barcelona. What did you expect of me? To send her away?"

"Ella esta bien?"

"Un poco cansada"

Gavi felt relieved that you were still here, but at the same time, it was so sad that he couldn't see you. His heart begged for your presence.

While you were at work, you asked Lewa about Pablo, and he told you that what he knows is that right now, he is good and healthy, with no dangers.

Now, 1 month passes since you last saw each other. It was already vacation for the players and you, as well.

You saw that Gavi was with his sister. He looked healthy, and that made you a little happier. You could write to him, but think that he won't answer you because he wasn't following you back.

When you first saw each other, it has been 3 months. You were both invited to a party where all the Barca members were.

Seeing each other was something that you both needed. Smiling at each other, you went to said hi to him. He replied with a soft smile, talking after about these months.

You both realised how stupid you were for not texting each other because of the same reason.

When you were talking, Gavi was looking at you with love. His eyes were sparkling with adoration. He accidentally fell in love and he couldn't forgive himself for this.

Falling in love with someone you can't have was hard. Knowing that you can be together only in dreams can put you in a hard period of life.

He was truly happy when he played football. That's what he thought all his life, but when he felt your presence around him, he felt like he his heart was dancing.

He wanted to kiss your lips but was afraid of shouting you and not hearing your voice anymore.

When he was around you, you couldn't stop smiling. Your heart accepted somehow his without your approval. You claimed his love and he claimed yours.

You knew before he laid his eyes on you that you loved him. You knew that he was the only boy that you'll ever want.

But when you want something too bad, you'll eventually lose it.

And that was your case.

The moment when you felt your heart be destroyed was when you got a call from your mom telling you to go immediately home. Your dad had passed away.

You had to be there with your family, and when you left, saying your goodbyes to your people, you cried.

You loved this place with all your heart, and leaving it, even for a short period, was devastating your soul. Here you made friends, family..

You stayed home for some time. You tried messaging Pablo to stay in contact with him, but it felt like he disappeared. He never responded to your messages, and when you decided it was time to continue your career, you went back to Barcelona.

Everyone was happy to see you, except Gavi. He never looked at you. Not even once by accident. He ignored you and felt like he never met you.

First, you were confused, and just then, the realisation hit you. Of course, how could Pablo Gavi love you?

You were just a poor girl that her father just died. Not even having 100 followers on her insta account. Why would the famous football player wanna date you?

At this point, all you wanted to be was his friend. At least be someone he knows. You couldn't believe him.

He couldn't believe himself either. Every time you were working, he was looking at you.

Sometimes, he was staying at your door just to hear your voice, every time smiling sadly. He truly did love you and that won't ever chance.

But he wanted you to be happy and he knew that with him, nothing was possible. You deserve someone who spends their time with, someone who makes you happy and can give you a family.

He couldn't. He was a football player. Who would wanna date one when all he does is be busy? But you wanted it. You wanted it with all costs.

Your love for him will never die and his love for you as well.

You never understood his behaviour, not even today.

But even though you were already over, you two can't help yourself for looking over at each other.

You till this day remember your last talk. It was the last time you felt truly alive. You never knew that that it was the last time you will see his eyes looking at you. The last time.

But if you knew his reason..would you make him understand that all you want is him?

How can you live with only his lips on your neck?

You wanted him all.

But why to try something that he doesn't want?

Why you? Why him?

"Everytime I am gonna see a girl, I'll remember her. And everytime I'm gonna love another, if that is possible, I'm gonna thank her because she made me a better man. A man that is possible of love. A man that would cross countries to be at her father's funeral and she will never know"

-The End

I hope you enjoyed this short story! ❤️

#fc barca #fc barcelona #football #gavi #pablo gavi #pablo gavira #pablo martín páez gavira #gavi x yn #gavi x reader #gavi x you

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diremoone · 1 year

Text

Beautiful (Always) | Joel Miller.

w — female Reader, mentions of disability, Reader in a wheelchair, mentions of brain injury and loss of motor skills, use of “cripple” being self-derogatory on Reader’s part, Joel being a sweetheart and making Reader feel better

note(s): this made me cry a little bit while writing this. This second part to “Never, Ever” was requested and fueled by this ask. Thank you for requesting a second part and making me make myself cry lmao. I would’ve had this out sooner, but my sleep schedule got messed up D: Maybe I’ll have a Pedro fic out by Valentine’s Day hmmm

****

When you wake up three weeks later, Joel damn near cries.

He’s missed your eyes. He’s missed looking into them and getting lost in them. And when you open your eyes for the first time weeks after being comatose, Joel realizes that getting lost in your eyes has become part of his life. He realizes how beautiful they are and how they shine in the sunlight. He realizes how much, how important it is to him to see your eyes. Because for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t feel empty.

He doesn’t feel alone.

Joel is there for everything. Save for showering and using the restroom, he’s by your side constantly.

You need it, at first. Your motor skills are anything but what they used to be. You can feed yourself and use the bathroom by yourself, barely, but you can hardly walk or do anything else.

The blunt force trauma to your brain from Abby’s beating almost left you completely unable to fend or do much of anything for yourself, aside from the most menial of tasks. And even those take all of the energy you have. The unusual and abnormal strength and muscle you had acquired over the last twenty years was next to gone. You felt as helpless as an infant with the strength of an infant. You wanted to cry like one, too, if you were ever honest with yourself.

It was exhausting getting in and out of bed, too, having to rise and push yourself off of the mattress. Your arms and legs shook with strain. So Joel had taken it upon himself to get you in and out of bed and into your wheelchair every morning and night, hating the sight of seeing you struggle.

God, you loved him. Joel Miller would move Heaven and Earth for you if you do much as asked.

But God forbid those times you have to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.

But during those nights, you feel Joel’s hand on your back, carefully pushing you up and into the wheelchair. He’s always there, ready and willing to help you, no matter how tired he is.

****

Your hand shakes as you hold up the spoon to your lips. You hated this.

For over a month it had been this way. It had gotten better, but you were still shaking like a leaf, struggling to put the spoon up to your lips without spilling any of the hot soup Joel had made.

You drank the soup, closing your eyes and enjoying the flavor. Joel’s domestic skills were certainly shining through.

You dropped the spoon into your bowl, sighing heavily. Damn it. You wanted to slam your fist against the table. You were so weak. How could you be this weak?

“Something wrong with the food?”

At the sound of his voice, a faint smile stretched across your lips.

“Never.” You watch as Joel comes in and sits beside you. “But you’re home early.”

“Tommy sent me home early,” Joel answers, “also sayin’ I’ve got the day off tomorrow, too.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Ah, he just knows I’m not worth much with you still being in recovery mode,” Joel admits.

“You don’t need to worry about all the time,” you insist, taking hold of Joel’s hand. He lovingly rubs his thumb over your skin. “I’m a big girl. I can still handle some things by myself.”

“I know ya can,” he replies, slightly unconvincing, “but that ain’t gonna stop me from worryin’, sweetheart.”

You love this man. You really freaking do. Your heart solely belongs to him, and you’d swear it in front of the entire world — well, what was left of the world, anyway — and in front of God himself. Under the altar, you mused, looking down, bashful of your own thoughts. I guess that’s why people get married.

“Joel…” You sigh. “You shouldn’t worry so much. Plus, it’s not good for your health, you old man.”

“Keep teasin’, see what happens, baby,” he says, chuckling.

“Sure thing, handsome.”

He grabs a bowl of the the beef soup and eats alongside you. It’s peaceful. It’s the most peaceful dinner you’ve had since your… incident.

“You showered?”

“That was the first thing I did this morning.” You shrug lamely. “Haven’t done much else.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “I can do the other stuff tomorrow.”

“I’ll help.”

“No—“

“Don’t piss me off, Joel. Or I’ll get up and walk out that door just to scare the shit out of you.”

Joel raises a brow, a smirk crawling up his lips. “Oh, yeah? Think you can?”

“Wanna fuck around and find out?”

Your smiles and his smirk turned into amused giggles and chuckles. He grabs your hands and kisses both of them.

“I love you,” Joel murmurs. “So much, baby.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

How fast the air of joy can turn into one of melancholy, you think to yourself sadly.

“You want anymore food, baby?”

“I’m good,” you admit. “Was actually really filling.”

Joel takes and rinses the dishes and places them in the left side of the sink, leaving them there to do tomorrow.

“Ya know, Tommy’s having a small party this coming up weekend,” Joel starts, “and I was thinking maybe we could go and have some fun. Tommy hasn’t seen you but twice since… you know. And I think he thinks you deserve to have some fun.”

“I think I’ll pass,” you say quickly.

He gives you a certain look, an unsure smile appearing on his face. Of course he was going to try to convince you.

You feel the tears of shame and embarrassment burning at your eyes. You can’t imagine going anywhere like this. Not like this. You can’t imagine going anywhere with Joel, because you felt like nothing more than a… damn deadweight. Not like this. You felt like nothing more than an embarrassment. You shouldn’t be sitting here in this wheelchair, unable to stand or maintain your balance to stand. You should be up and around, doing things around the house and the community to help.

“It might be good for you,” he said, drying his hands. “Lord knows people miss seeing you. Party might help lift your spirits, sweetheart.”

“No! Not like this, Joel! Not… like this!” you cry out.

You angrily slam your fist against the arm of the wheelchair over and over again, letting out broken-hearted shout that makes Joel’s own heart break.

Joel catches your fist and holds it tightly against his chest so you won’t continue to bruise and abuse yourself.

“Sweetheart,” he begins. “I—“

“How can you still love me? Even like… like this?” you sob out, sniffling and swallowing the snot in the back of your throat. It’s only now that the tears roll down your cheeks. They’re sticky and you dislike it. You hate it. You hate that your nose is stopping up. You especially hate that you’re crying in front of Joel. You were supposed to be strong, damn it. For Joel’s sake, you were supposed to appear unfazed, by both your trauma and your current condition. “I know I’m not a complete cripple, but I just hate this! I hate feeling so fucking… useless, Joel… I hate not being able to do the things I used to. I can’t even get out of bed without making myself tired all over again. It’s… It’s driving me nuts. And I feel like I’m going insane. And I feel like I’m letting you down, Joel. I’m nothing more than a burden, and I hate it.”

It’s silent after that, Joel unable to respond from the weight of your words. It��s nice to get it out in the open — everything you’ve been feeling out on the table. It’s been hard on you mentally, struggling constantly with the knowledge you were as helpless as you were, that you needed as much help as you did, especially doing tasks that never used to take up your energy but now take all of it.

But then he clears his throat and pulls the chair he was sitting in right up to your wheelchair. His legs touch yours, but all you can think about is how you can hardly walk from the kitchen to the bedroom without collapsing into the bed in a sad heap of tears and pain.

Joel’s big, warm, firm hands gently cup your cheeks. He softly tugs your face up, forcing you to look into his glistening eyes that are rimmed with tears. You look away in remorse and guilt, internally chastising yourself for making Joel cry.

“Look at me baby.” His tone is gentle but commanding, shaking with concern. And you do it, holding his gaze.

“First of all,” he begins, jaw tight, “don’t ever call yourself a fucking cripple. Don’t ever call yourself useless, because you’re not. You suffered a severe injury to your head savin’ my old ass. Don’t hate yourself for this. Don’t hate yourself for something that ain’t your fault… Okay? You’re not a burden, baby. Never will be. Why wouldn’t I take care of the woman I love?”

The tip of his nose touches yours and he gives a slow Eskimo kiss. He kisses away the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’ll always love you, no matter what. You’ll always be beautiful to me. Whether you’re in this wheelchair or not, which you won’t be for long considering you’re getting your strength back pretty quickly, you’ll always have my heart. I ain’t leavin’, you silly woman. Now, come on. Show me that pretty smile I love so much. I know it works, or do I need to press your smile button?”

You grinned, sniffling and wiping away your tears. Joel booped your nose (your “smile button”) anyway and chuckled too, happy to see your tiny grin flourish into a cheerful smile and giggle among your tears.

He wraps his big arms around you and pulls you into his lap. Your legs dangle to the side as he hugs you to him.

You sharply inhaled for breath and said, “I love you, Joel. I love you so much. Thank you for being with me.”

“I should be thanking you for being with me,” he laughs. “Who’d love an old man like me?”

You smack his chest. “You’re not old!”

“You’re right, with my knees creakin’, I’m ancient.”

“Joel!”

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