#CHAPTER TWO IS LOOKING GOOD SO FAR THO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoseokieswrld · 7 months

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STILL DON'T KNOW MY NAME | JJK (M)

CHAPTER ONE:

Pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader

Summary: In which a video game streamer, Jeon Jungkook, finds— and is intrigued by— an account that writes nsfw fanfiction about him and decides to send them a private message. He still doesn’t know your name.

Genre: smut, pwp, internet strangers to lovers

Category: three-shot

Collab with: @dollfaceksj —> her masterlist

Banner by: @archivedkookie

WARNINGS: sexting, explicit sexual content, strong language, pornography, cybersex, exchanging in nude photos, hidden identities

total word count: 4.7k. masterlist next part—>

“Ah, fuck! He got me where I couldn’t see him!”Jungkook yells into his microphone, frustrated at his followers during his twitch stream. “Damn it, I was so close.” Jungkook puts his face into his palms, looking at his monitor and seeing all the comments being left in the chat.

User386290: Damn jk he got your ass lmao

Jkssideh0e: aww kook dw you're still fine asf

Jungkook ignores the thirst comments. They don’t make him uncomfortable, he’s just used to them. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the thirst comments and they actually give him a little ego boost. Whenever he loses at something, he tends to get very annoyed and end the stream.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned and that honestly killed the mood,” Jungkook weakly laughs. “It's getting late and I’ve already been streaming for two and a half hour anyway, so I think I’m gonna end the stream guys, sorry.” He turns his attention to his camera. There seems to be lots of women in today's stream judging from the comments left in the chat.

Kookswrld: noooo dont go yet bby >:(

Ashln00: im gonna miss ur sexy ass

yrma4l: leaving us already wow whtevr

“Don’t worry, guys. I’ll stream tomorrow night at the same time and I’ll be posting some clips of tonight's stream later on my Twitter and Instagram for you guys to rewatch.” He’s really appreciative of his followers and he enjoys seeing them beg him to stay on stream, even if some of the comments are sometimes a little out of pocket.

“Okay, I’m gonna hop off the stream now. Thanks to everybody who joined and donated on my stream today. I really appreciate you guys, and tomorrow I’ll come back on and play COD with some of you guys too. Goodnight, everyone!” Jungkook waves as the comments bid him goodbye.

Jkssideh0e: bye bby

Cl0v3r2000: see u tmw sexy

Jeoncjungk: byeee!! :)

_elicticmoonl1ght: you did so well today baby ill def tune in tmw ;))

Jungkook smiles at the pet names, not being able to contain his flusteredness from the camera. The compliments he gets from his followers are much flirtier to him.

Jungkook has been streaming for a little over a year now. At first, it started out as a silly little hobby when he had some free time after his friend Taehyung suggested he should start streaming. After a while, more and more people started to join and watch his lives. Not only was Jungkook good at video games but he was also insanely attractive, one of the reasons he has such a large female audience. After gaining more followers by the day, his once-a-week streams became twice a week, which then resulted in five times a week. Jungkook never thought his love for video games would get him this far, it was only a silly hobby of his. A year later, he has 1 million followers that watch and share his streams. He truly loves his followers.

Jungkook finally ends the two and a half hour stream. He gets up, washes up for the night before he gets into bed. He’s had a pretty long day between photography sessions he does on the side and streaming, so he’s glad he has time to lie down in bed and edit videos for the night.

After posting, he decides to scroll through his feed on twitter since he hasn’t all day.

@lili57_: Jungkook on his stream today tho?!! Yall gotta hold me back fr he is TOO fine my god.

@jjkkoooks: jk got another tattoo?? he is wattpad come to life 😛

That’s until he scrolls on his Twitter timeline and notices a familiar username.

_elicticmoonl1ght

Where did he recognize that name from? He thinks long and hard from his stream’s chat today, and finally remembers. This definitely has to be the same user from earlier, so the only logical thing Jungkook thinks to do is press on the account’s page.

“Holy shit,” are the first words that come out of his mouth as his eyes practically bulge out of his skull.

“NSFW 18+ ONLY ACCOUNT DEDICATED TO JEON JUNGKOOK” were the first words in your bio…and then the multiple threads of sexual content you write about Jungkook.

A whole nsfw account dedicated to me? I didn’t think people would go out of their day to write explcit stories about me. Jungkook’s thoughts are clouding his mind. He knows he has very loyal followers who watch and share all his streams, but this? Jungkook would have never thought in a million years that people would make porn accounts about him. He’s just a regular dude in his 20s who likes to play video games.

Jungkook decides to go through your page, each post making him more flustered the more he scrolls down. Fuck, do you know how to write, he thinks to himself, truly amazed at how you write each scenario to every last detail, making it sound realistic. That is until he almost cums on the spot, heart racing faster than ever when he comes across one of your most updated posts:

"Mmh, fuck, Kook. Right there, please, don't stop," I whine into the comforter of the mattress while my boyfriend pounds into my soaked pussy from behind, knocking the breath out of my lungs.

"Yeah, baby, like that? I'm gonna make this pussy squirt for me," Jungkook groans out, going harder and faster on me, constantly spanking my ass to make sure he leaves his mark.

Jungkook is starting to get way too hard for his liking. He is so incredibly turned on by your writing, he has never expected to grow an erection from reading fictional porn about him. He mentally debates with himself whether jerking off to this is weird or not, but then realizes he hasn’t gotten himself off in days.

Porn isn’t doing it for him anymore, so he hasn’t watched it in weeks. He feels like the porn now isn’t real or natural. A girl screaming her head off like she was getting murdered was not even remotely hot to him, so he hasn’t had the desire to watch anything of the sort. Jungkook also had a few sneaky links here and there, but hasn’t hooked up with any in months. Unfortunately, he felt like they got too clingy and they even started to expect more from him. So now that he’s by himself, jerking off to this doesn’t seem like a bad idea, especially if it’s about him.

Oh, fuck it, Jungkook surrenders to himself and pulls down his sweatpants just past his balls, cock springing to life and hitting his stomach. Jungkook quickly scrambles to open his bedside table to pull out his lotion he uses for times like these. Impatiently, he squirts a good amount of the lotion into his palm and wraps his large tattooed hand around his throbbing cock.

Jungkook’s body jerks from the sensation of his lotioned hand stroking his sensitive cock, slightly squeezing the tip. His veiny cock twitches, begging for a release of some sort. His chest slightly heaves, forgetting how pleasing himself every once in a while can feel so good. “Mhm- Fuck,” he sighs quietly, picking up his phone to continue reading your post.

“Gonna cum, Kook, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” I mewl out from the immense amount of pleasure my boyfriend is giving me with his huge girthy cock, constantly rubbing against my g-spot. He shuts me up with a rough steamy kiss, never slowing down the pace of his hard thrusts. My back slightly starts hurting from being so deeply arched for him, but I can’t say I don’t like it.

He pulls away from the kiss, a long string of saliva connecting the both of our lips still. “Yeah, you're gonna cum for me? All talk until I give your bratty ass attention.” Jungkook says through gritted teeth, wrapping a hand in my hair and pulling it backwards to expose my beautiful, untouched neck to him. He leans in, harshly nibbling and sucking on my skin, leaving it bruised and bitten. I can’t help but admit defeat and whimper under his touch.

“I’m still being a cunt, right? Isn’t that what you said earlier? Huh, baby? Answer me.” Jungkook pulls on my hair again, waiting for my reply. He can’t help but go harder from my desperation, tears building up in the corners of my eyes from how hard he’s gripping my hair.

Jungkook can’t stop reading, finding your bratty attitude so fucking hot, imagining himself fucking into your tight, warm pussy faster. He gets more comfortable in bed, laying down as he squeezes the tip of his cock with every stroke of his large hand, more and more precum spilling out fromhis tip. His lips become red and swollen from biting down on them in a lousy attempt to contain his little whines and groans.

What makes this even hotter is him not knowing what you look like, sending him into a horny headspace. Still fisting his hard, lengthy cock, he gathers spit in his mouth, letting it dribble from his lips onto the head of his swollen dick, a little saliva getting caught in his dark pubes. He whines as he feels some of his saliva dripping down to his balls, the sound of fapping noises filling the room.

“N-no, Kook, you’re not. M’sorry, please- fuck,” I plead my boyfriend as he palms my tits under my tank top, letting the straps fall off my shoulders. He continues to feel me up, occasionally twisting and pinching my sensitive nipples.

Your words and writing make him imagine you, a mystery girl, begging him to fuck you. This is exactly what he likes. His cock only oozes more precum and begs for release. Jungkook takes off his shirt and the rest of his sweats, fully naked in the darkness of his bedroom. He wipes the layer of sweat off of his forehead and massages his balls a bit more, the sensation too good to stop.

“Gonna give what you want baby, yeah?” He finally lets me cum after teasing and torturing me for far too long.

This is the part Jungkook’s been waiting for. The tension building up was enough to get him excited, but this is the part he’s been looking forward to the most. This is what has him thrilled, reading about him finally letting you cum. He can’t describe how badly he wants your tight, velvety walls wrapping around his thick cock. Jungkook recreates the feeling of it by squeezing his hard member with his large palm, moaning a little louder than before.

“Fuck- I’m cumming,” I whine, wrapping my legs around his waist forcing him closer to me.

Is this girl keeping tabs on him? Jungkook can’t tell if he finds it weird or hot that this is exactly how he likes it in real life. He loves how his hands grip your thighs and his fingers sink into the supple flesh. For him, it's the best position. Hitting it from behind. Reading about it makes this ten times better. The way he has a close look at a girl's pussy and ass, her back arched so deeply into the mattress; it only shows how much more power he has over her in bed. He simply loves it. Jungkook can already feel himself getting closer, but wants to finish reading before he cums.

Jungkook keeps a hard steady pace, never losing track of his harsh pace. I can feel his cock throb inside of me, knowing that he’s close to cumming.

“Oh- fuck,” Jungkook groans, imagining him doing this in real life. The way you describe yourself for him is a major turn on, wishing you weren’t just a fake scenario but in his room instead. Fuck, he never knew he could be so envious of his ownself. His cock spurts even more precum than before, the darkness of his bedroom full of skin slapping sounds from the way he jerks himself off so fast. He can only imagine his lotioned hand being your tight soaked cunt.

I finally cum, legs shaking from how powerful my orgasm is. I dig my nails into Jungkook’s big arms when he doesn’t stop fucking into me. Being so fucked out like this drives himcloser to his high, his body collapsing on top of mine as he thrusts into me a few more times as I clench and tear up from the overstimulation.

“Fuck, baby, gonna cum inside you. That okay with you?” Jungkook desperately speaks out into my ear, waiting for my permission.

“Yeah, cum inside me, want your cum in me so bad, Kook.”

Your begging is enough to send Jungkook over the edge. He whines loudly, arm on fire from how hard he jerks himself off, chest heaving. He bites his lip harder, sticking his tongue out to play with his piercings, abs clenching as he’s only a few seconds away from cumming.

Jungkook finally cums inside of me with his final thrust, making my cunt feel so full.

“Fuckkk,” Jungkook groans out as he finally releases all over his stomach and hand, palm never slowing down while stroking his throbbing cock. It drips down in thick layers over his tattooed fingers, falling onto his dark pubic hair. Jungkook swears he’s never cum that hard from masturbating in his life.

He takes a second to recollect himself, still slightly in a daze. Jungkook points his attention downward to his stomach, heaving up and down with every breath. He notices the way his cum sticks to his big fingers. He slightly rubs his cock a little more, the feeling too good to stop, the loose skin going up and down with every stroke.

He stops after a few seconds, being slightly overstimulated. He reaches over to his bedside table, grabbing a few tissues and wiping off the cum from his stomach and lotion from his hand. Jungkook can’t lie, he really enjoyed reading and getting off to that, and wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again. He could scroll all night reading all of your horny thoughts and posts, you are really good at it.

That's when he gets an idea. He obviously can’t keep stalking and liking your posts from his professional streaming account, that would just blow his cover.

He quickly logs out of his personal account and creates a new burner account with the username ian_97. Jungkook quickly sets up his account making it look less like a fake bot account which results in him putting a picture of his dog, Bam, as the profile picture. He quickly edits his bio which consists of his real age and where he's from. There’s no way you’d think it's actually Jungkook who's following and liking all your posts. Would you even notice his account? You already have 3,000 followers who like and interact with all your posts, mostly being fanpages of him, so there isn’t much to worry about.

Jungkook follows your account, liking a bunch of your posts. He hates himself for getting a little hard, but nothing he can't sleep off. He wonders how you even found him and got interested enough to make an entire nsfw account about him. He’s not complaining though, he finds it hot as fuck.

Jungkook checks the time. ‘It's 12:30 am already? That means I've been reading through her account for like an hour, holy shit.’ Jungkook blinks at how long he’s been caught up in your page. He sighs, plugging his phone into the charger, deciding it's time to get some sleep. Jungkook remembers the long list of errands he has to carry out tomorrow morning which partially makes him annoyed but not much since he needs to get out of the house. He soon falls asleep peacefully, with you on his mind.

——————————————————————————-

A week and a half has passed since Jungkook’s little smut reading session and finding your page. Since then, he’s gotten so busy with life, doing the photography sessions he does on the side, home chores, and taking care of Bam which is a huge chore in itself. For some reason, he’s had a huge rush in which people want to book with him. Jungkook is glad people enjoy his work, don't get him wrong, but it's more complicated than it seems.

Jungkook spends hours if not days editing all the pictures he’s taken, and him being a perfectionist does not make it a quick task. Getting caught up with all of this ends in him not streaming in over a week, knowing his followers have been begging him to go live. He misses his followers a bunch, and needs to take his mind off things, so after he finishes editing all his pictures and sending them to his clients, he decides to go live.

“Hey everyone, miss me? Sorry I’ve been gone for a while, I got caught up in a lot with some personal matters. And yes, I’ve seen all your tweets begging me to go live and play COD. Well, your wish has been granted!” Jungkook enthusiastically states while reading the comments.

jjkgf613: finally we missed u!!

hoe4.jk: HES BACKKKKK!!!

kookiejjar: heyy hope you're alright :(

“Thanks guys, I missed y’all too, and don’t worry! I’m okay, just been putting a lot of stuff off that needed to be done. Other than that, it's all good! I’m back to streaming for you guys.” Jungkook is glad he has so many people that care for him, he couldn’t ask for better, more supportive followers.

kookswrld: yayyy we got our jungkook back :0

Jungkook chuckles and smiles, but it quickly drops from his face as his eyes drop to the comment right under it.

_elictmoonl1ght: missed u !

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his sweats, memories flooding back in from almost 2 weeks ago when he got off your posts. Fuck, how could I forget? He mentally argues with himself on how that totally slipped his mind. He wonders if you noticed his burner account following you or if you wrote more posts on your page about him. Jungkook quickly snaps out of it, clearing his throat, remembering he’s live streaming with 300k people watching.

“A-ahem, sorry guys, I thought I heard Bam or something. Uhm, let's just get back to the stream.” Jungkook clears his throat, trying to play off the long awkward pause in his stream, cheeks heating when he realizes how deep he was in his thoughts about you. Fuck, he needs to get a grip.

Fortunately, Jungkook is well distracted in his game and interacting with his followers for the past 2 hours, making up for his almost 2 weeks absence. He yawns as he glances at the clock above his screen which reads 10:39 pm. It's late and his eyes are starting to burn from staring at the screen for too long, deciding it's time to end the stream.

“Okay guys, it's getting late so I think I’m going to end the stream. Thank you guys for playing with me, I had a lot of fun reconnecting with y'all. I’ll definitely be going live again soon this week. Don’t forget to check out Instagram and Twitter for more updates. Love you guys, goodnight! ” Jungkook waves at his camera above his monitor, giving his fans a genuine sweet smile. The comments bid him goodbye.

Kookiejjar: gn <33

User386290: seen u soon

Jkssideh0e: gn bf :)))

Jungkook ends the stream, exhausted but happy he got to go live. Streaming is his main source of income, but he does it because he enjoys it, not because it makes him the most money. Also, he makes money off of his sponsorships and photography sessions. Jungkook is pretty financially stable for a 27 year old, it's just him and Bam.

Jungkook cooks himself a small late night meal after his stream, remembering he didn’t get the chance to eat dinner. He makes his favorite go-to meal: spicy buldak ramen. Even though he might regret it later, he doesn’t care, eager to finally eat something after a few hours.

Jungkook finishes his meal and washes all the dishes he used, then puts Bam back into his play pen. He feels sweaty and dirty after his long day, deciding to take a nice hot shower before bed. He relaxes under the shower faucet, not realizing how tense he is. Fuck, loosen up man, he mentally puts himself in check. Jungkook has piled up a lot of stress this past week and a half. Embarrassingly, he hasn’t gotten himself off or had sex in even longer. Jungkook freezes as he remembers earlier events from his day.

“_elictmoonl1ght: missed u!”

Jungkook quickly finishes his shower, turning off the faucet, drying himself off at the speed of light, not even bothering to put on any clothes. He sprints to his bed, rips his phone off its charger and clicks on Twitter.

Jungkook’s stomach bubbles in excitement wondering how much he’s missed your account. He switches from his personal streaming account to his burner, immediately pressing onto your profile. The first thing he sees is an off guard picture of his side profile with the tip of his pink tongue playing with his lips rings from today's stream. He looks so focused and sexy, yet his cock twitches when he reads the caption:

@_elictmoonl1ght: the nose, the piercings, the jaw line, his lips THE TONGUE??!!! needa to ride his face until he begs me to stop. Fuck, i swear he gets more fine everytime he streams :P

Jungkook throws his phone to the side, stripping from his clothings. He throws his shirt and boxers somewhere on the floor of his room, lying down on his bed. Impatiently, he spits into the palm of his hand, too eager to get up and grab his lotion, and places his hand on his cock, stroking until it's firm.

His long and large fingers wrap around his veiny dick, sticky and wet from his saliva. He lets out a small whimper, cock a little sensitive from not being able to get off for almost two weeks. His cock is red, spurting a bit of precum just from imagining how horny you must’ve been when you wrote about him. Jungkook wishes you were with him right now, stroking his hard cock for him, begging him to cum for you.

He continues to scroll down your page, exclusively looking for explicit posts you’ve written about him. A few swipes later, he finds a new and different story you’ve posted. Jungkook presses on the thread and begins reading, smiling from excitement.

Jungkook roughly pushes me onto the bed, stripping me of my clothes.

“Wet as fuck, baby. All for me, right?” Jungkook eyes down my figure, pulling me to the edge of the bed as he takes off my shorts, leaving me in only my underwear.

“Yeah, Kook, just for you, please don’t tease,.” I beg Jungkook as he traces my slit through my panties, sticking them more to my core than before.

Jungkook quickens the pace he strokes his cock at, imagining you, the mystery writer, laying spread out in front of him in your little panties, giving him a full view of your ass and pussy. If you were here, he’d toy with your pussy outside of your underwear, tracing his finger over your lower lips, making sure to press down on your tight, soaked hole, smacking your ass after watching it jiggle. His pace never stops, nipples becoming hard from the cold air in his room, yet every other part of his body is on fire.

“Gonna give you what you want,” Jungkook begins as he pulls down my panties and throws them onto the floor. He lowers himself in front of me, eyeing my soaked cunt, clit begging for some sort of stimulation. He begins by kissing my inner thighs a few times, occasionally biting on them, causing me to whimper in pain.

After a minute of teasing, he finally brings his lips to my cunt, giving it a long, slow lick from my hole to my clit.

“Shit,” Jungkook groans, eating pussy is one of his favorite things to do. It’s crazy how you’ve been writing about all the things he likes. His cock twitches at the thought of having his head between your thighs, imagining your pussy to be plump and soaked for him, clit throbbing whenever his nose bumps into it. He groans out, never stopping the pace he strokes his veiny cock at, wishing he could have the taste of you in his mouth.

“L-like that, Kook,.” I beg him as he devours me like I’m his last meal. He doesn’t take a moment to breathe, but instead constantly sucks on my clit, occasionally moving down to lick at my quivering hole. However, he stops and removes his face from my pussy. His face is covered in my wetness, some of it on the tip of his nose to his chin.

“Sit up,” he demands me while he lays down on his back. That's it? He’s not going to finish the job?

I sit up and stare at him in confusion when the next few words he says makes my pussy clench in desire.

“Ride my face. C’mon, babe.” Jungkook urges me to straddle his face. I’ve never sat on his face, but I’m not opposed to it.

I straddle him, his eyes staring straight into mine as he grabs the back of my thighs, wasting no time in urging me to sit on his face. When I finally lower myself onto him, I jolt from the pleasure. His nose begins to hit directly onto my clit, wet tongue proding at my hole.

“Fuck, feels so good, Kook, d-dont stop,” I plead him, my legs shaking on each side of his head. His tongue and nose constantly working on my pussy has me lightheaded, my words becoming squeals and whines. I decide to be bold, slightly rocking my hips back and forth across his face, lifting myself up every few seconds to let him breathe.

Jungkook fists his cock at a fast, rough pace. Your words were perfect and made it so realistic to imagine. Jungkook pants, “Fuckkk mh- yeah, like that, baby,” as he imagines you humping his face. His balls tighten, thinking about how tight and wet your pussy probably is. He dreams of your plump pussy constantly rubbing onto his nose and lips, maybe even feeling some of your shortly trimmed pubes brush against his skin.

Jungkook is so fucking close, losing it at the thought of your wetness still connecting your pussy to his mouth. His stomach clenches, eyes squeezing shut, feeling a dribble of sweat running down his defined abs. His cock is harder than ever in these past two weeks. His cock is begging to release all the cum he’s been holding in, balls tensing at the thought of cumming everywhere.

Jungkook can tell I’m close by the way I have a tight grip on his hair, and my constant begs to cum. He eventually complies and gives a final kiss to my pussy.

“Want you to come now. That good with you, baby?” He says as he shoves his mouth onto my poor swollen pussy, not even giving me the chance to answer him.

Jungkook doesn’t stop with his rough sucking and licks, determined to make me cum all over his face. My moans and begs are louder than before, my hands gripping his long, luscious hair. He brings all his attention to my clit, sucking on it harshly. My stomach snaps from all the pressure.

“Mh- cumming, Kook. C-cumming,” I cry out as I ride out my high on his tongue and lips, not stopping until I soak his entire face.

Jungkook finally reaches his breaking point, hot white cum coating the back of his hand and stomach, a little seeping onto his belly button. He continues to milk his cock dry until he whimpers from the overstimulation. He just can’t stop. Not knowing who you are or how you look makes the situation even hotter. You don’t have to show him how you look, your words are just enough to make him cum.

Jungkook finally stops stroking his cock, but leaves his tattooed hand there. It might’ve been the little bit of horniness left in him, but he decides to be a little bold. He clicks on your account, scrolls to the top of your page and presses the little message button in the top right corner, and at that he sends you the message.

“hey, your writing is amazing and i cant lie turns me on a lot. Wanna see if u can put those words to good use bby:)”

——————————————————————————

a/n: hi guys! i really hope you enjoyed part 1 of sdkmn! this is my very first fic ever and im glad to share it yall finally!! i have no idea when part 2 will be sooo pls dont ask LOL but i hope yall enjoyed it and are ready for the next part! pls don’t be shy to share or reblog they are very much appreciated! id also like to thank @dollfaceksj and @peachypinkygloss for helping me so much through the writing process and making this story 10x better!! my asks are always open and i hope yall stay tuned for part 2! thank youuu🫶🏻🥹💞 -eli

taglist:

@dollfaceksj @nini_07777 @ahgasegotarmy116 @jm1003myg @gxtwllsn @babycandy111

@kelly-fushiguro345 @jksjx @earth2fae @kissyfacekoo @s3l3n0phil3 @llallaaa @kingofbodyrolls @jkslaugh97 @diorh0seokie e @rooonilwaazlib @Rosymermaidsinthesand @taebae19 @honeeybunneey @lesoleile @kookssecret @butterymin @ohsweetmimosa

@i-like-puppy-mg @screamertannie

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lana-llama-in-pajamas · 2 months

Text

Milkman (Francis mosses) x fem! Reader

Thick as blood

Sweet as milk

Ah yes, you. The new doorman. The DDD hired you for your attention to detail and ability to examine more than just physical detail but the way people talked, their actions even the movement in their eyes.

Dopples are horrible at those details, some are just straight stupid and don’t try

But today was your first day in the building fresh from training, the building didn’t have a doorman before so you were ready for confrontation and confusion

Your uniforms was meant to look friendly, with a DDD button the the left breast. the DDD issued you with a pistol in case a Dopple did get in.

The block has been notified and given everything they needed to get in. Now it was your job to make sure they were safe

The day went slow no one coming in till lunch, you were not given one but you were allowed to eat whenever suited you

Soon tho a very happy woman came by…she had heterochromia at first you assumed dopple before looking at her papers

Right Nacha Mikaelys . Everything checked out as you studied her taking notes in your head, she smiled seemingly unaware of what was happening “how’s your day so far?” She asked looking through her purse, possibly for her keys “going well, I’m y/n your new doorman” you replied passing back her papers “have a good day ma’am” she nodded taking them back “pleased to meet you y/n see you tomorrow “ Nacha waved and walked out of sight

You got up from your chair to walk around your small office, you fix up your uniform as you hear someone come up to your glass panel. It was a milkman..? you raised your eyebrows at him. He didn’t look quite surprised to see you. He slid his papers into the slot and waited. You grabbed the papers and looked up and down at them. You then looked up at him and studied his features while trying to talk to him. “Hi I’m y/n the new doorman pleased to meet you, Mr. Moses.”

“Mm…pleased to meet you y/n”

Oh god. You blushed! What a schoolgirl

You slid the papers to him quickly looking down “all is in order, good day sir” you almost stuttered before looking back up at his dark tired eyes “good.” He walked off not noticing your sudden change in tone.

Oh god he sounded like a night time soap, deep and soft. you could listen to him read a chapter book and hang on every word, a phone book would sound sexy! And his eyes! Ugh you would kiss them if possible! You let your blush stay as you fell head over heels for a man that spoke 6 words to you (I counted) another person stood before you, before you could even greet them you stopped in your tracks

It wasn’t human. Its face was a drawing taped to it. No mouth but it spoke “allow me in please”

You softly pressed the urgency button as you slid out your gun. You could hear the dopple screech and writhe behind the glass and metal shutter while you called your superiors “I have one” you spoke sternly not wanting to show any fear “on the way” the triple D officer spoke. You stood back pistol in hand breathing slowly to calm down soon though the screeching stopped and the metal shutter lifted revealing a man in a yellow suit “dopple eliminated. Good work” he walked away with 2 others carrying a body bag.

You shivered placing the weapon back in its place you were glad most of those things were dumb but it made it no less horrifying

Your mind raced as you thought about the two things that just happened to you almost simultaneously first having a girl crush on a milkman and now almost getting killed by a stupid Dopple

Your immediate thought, as you sat down and tried to organize to calm your mind was, how does a milkman live in a building with such high earners ? How much does a milkman make ?you pondered looking over the files of residents

After introducing yourself to a couple of other residents, the day ends, and it’s time for your shift to end as well.

One Dopple the rest human honestly the best you could hope for on a first day, the other thing you could look forward to is that because you do work in this building, you can live in the building for way less rent than everybody else, you picked up your items from the desk and made sure everything was clean before you left and lock the door behind you no one was allowed to leave or enter the building after 10 PM unless of course it was an emergency, but they would be escorted by DDD officer at the front of the building

You took the elevator to your apartment “F05” the old landlord room, it used to be boarded up but the DDD had it refurbished for you, still looked a little dingy but ultra cheap rent for a 2 room apartment was worth it

You opened the door but jumped a little hearing another door “oh” you heard the deep voice looking to your left, Francis in a white wife beater and a cardigan. He has a cigarette in his fingers unlit “oh sorry you startled me goodnight Mr.mosses” you tried to excuse yourself quickly but to your surprise he spoke up “I didn’t know you lived here, actually I didn’t know there was a 5th apartment” he finally lit his cigarette taking a long drag (it’s the 50s) you nodded hoping to clear his confusion “ it was boarded up in the early 40s, it’s called a lord suite. a place for the landlord to stay in case of quick repairs or whatever else may happen” he listened rather intently taking the cig out of his mouth, god did you want him to ask you to take a puff just to indicate something “oh…I remember those really fell out of fashion huh?” He asked passing the half done cancer stick. You screamed in your head agreeing with him and taking in the smoke “well enjoy, I need to sleep” he walked back to his apartment almost slamming the door, was he mad? He didn’t indicate anger or distrust, you finished the cigarette and smudged it out on your stove placing the butt on the counter almost contemplating about saving it… you were weirding yourself out a bit but came back to.

You did as all necessary and got ready for bed

You dreamt of Francis sitting on the roof with you holding you close both of you in your uniforms as you kissed him deep and hungry begging for more in your movements you felt him move down to bite softly at your ne- TRRRIING TRRING

your alarm clock yelled at you a few more times before you could slam your hand down on it groaning and streaching “god I am down bad”

End pt 1

I know but the game is set in like 1955 America but it gives me such Soviet vibes

#milkman #milkman x reader #tnmn #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #Spotify #SoundCloud

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thesunisatangerine · 3 months

Text

playing for keeps – chapter one

alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader

status: ongoing

(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two]

word count: 2.9k

The darkness lurched and a sensation of falling brought you back to your senses. There was a momentary confusion–as was the case after leaving the half-conscious state–but it didn’t take you long to piece the world back together. A shudder disturbed the panel beneath your feet and you felt the running tremor that followed accompanied by a low rumble you could barely hear through the stressing pressure in your ears. You blinked your eyes open and there was a rawness to them that made you squint, taking in a familiar scene that greeted you past the window as you did.

A deep purple tint veiled the brilliance of the sun, casting the world into the cool calm of dusk, as the remainder of the day streaked the horizon with its fading light. You recognised the sloping silhouettes of the mountains that stood tall in the distance, seeming all the more greater against the early evening sky, comfortingly familiar and inviting in their grand stillness.

The intercom played a three-tone melody followed by a voice that filtered through the static.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Barcelona. The local time is six hours ahead of the Newark area, and it is currently approaching six in the evening. Please remain seated with your seatbelts on until the ‘Fasten Seatbelt’ sign has been switched off. It has been our pleasure to serve you on this flight. Thank you, and a very good evening.”

In the moments that followed, chatter erupted all around you. Tearing your gaze away from the window, finally, you unbuckled your seatbelt but made no move to get up, opting instead to rest your cheek on your hand.

The thing that made window seats great–apart from the view, of course–was the fact that people who were in no rush to get off the plane wouldn’t feel compelled to move to avoid obstructing other passengers. And you, who was normally eager to stretch your legs after a particularly long flight such as this one, very much needed another moment to gather yourself. So you watched on as the other passengers stood and shuffled about, opening and closing the overhead bins to retrieve their luggage.

A restlessness crept over you. It erupted from somewhere deep down your gut to your limbs, and the feeling had you longing to jump out of your seat–to run–but you stayed put. There you waited, drumming a rhythm with your fingers against your thigh as your other leg bounced to the same chaotic pace. And without any bidding, the scenes you’d thought of before you sank into the nap you’d just woken up from flashed through your mind, relentless in their effort to tear you apart again.

You craned your neck to the side to see through the window. Somewhere at the far side of the airport, a yellow light flashed from a parked plane. It reminded you of fireflies and–

No.

You halted the memory and instead resorted to counting the number of times it blinked to keep your mind occupied.

“Excuse me, is everything okay?”

You blinked.

Turning away from the window to the direction of the voice, you saw an attendant looking at you with a curious expression.

“Yes,” you stuttered out.

Behind her you noticed that all of the seats were empty, and probably for quite some time now, so you gave her a quick apology when you stood to gather your belongings. You began for the exit after closing the overhead cabin but the stewardess stopped you again with another question.

“You’re a professional footballer?”

You looked at her over your shoulder. Your surprise at her question must have been clear on your face because she looked down at your duffel bag and then back at you with just a hint of amusement by the way her brow was lifted.

Oh. You forgot about that.

You hefted your Barça bag over your shoulder as you replied, “Uh, yeah. Are you much of a fan?”

“I love it. Love watching and playing it whenever I can. I’m more of a Madridista, though.”

“Oh. That’s a shame.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes at your dry humor but without any hint of offense.

The both of you continued to the exit.

“What position do you play?”

“Keeper.”

“Very cute. How long have you been playing for Barça?”

“I’m just newly transferred, actually.”

By this point, the both of you had arrived at the plane’s open door.

“Oh, really? Well, I wish you all the best for your season. And I hope this doesn’t come across as unprofessional but is it okay if I asked you for a picture?”

“Thank you. And no, not at all.”

After you posed for the photo, she thanked you. You felt her fingers brush over yours as she took back her phone before she sent you a playful wink. Her beauty attracted you, yes, and years ago such blatant advances from a fine woman would’ve been received warmly by you but not anymore–especially not today. So instead, you gave her a polite, almost apologetic, nod and parted ways with a small smile as you shuffled out of the plane.

It was a haze, your journey through the gates, the baggage reclaim zone, and the checkpoints. The lights and images melted together in one big blur, the noises coalesced to a low drone, before the world focused again when your phone screen lit up.

‘I’m in the arrival hall,’ it said.

Despite yourself, your heartbeat picked up upon seeing it and a familiar restlessness made you shiver. You shook your head, rolling your luggage towards the arrival hall, tapping your thumb against the handle of your roller, the strap of your duffel bag clutched tightly in your other hand.

With every step, your heart jumped in anticipation.

You turned the corner and your chest stilled.

And at the sight you beheld, you were gone. It was like you were seventeen all over again.

To you, it was as if the world became brighter, the colors and shapes now sharper, and she was the light that made everything that much clearer.

A thought rang clear in your mind, Oh, god, she’s right there. And she’s so beautiful.

She was leaning back against one of the columns that lined the terminal, the darkness of her outfit a stark contrast against the white paint which made her all the more easier to spot. Her eyes were trained on her phone as she tapped away at it with a small, soft smile adorning her face; that, for some reason, made your heart ache. A few locks of her hair escaped the hold of her ear and they framed her face in such a way that made her look inviting and at the same time accentuated that air of untouchability that seemed to be always present around her. Some people recognised her as they walked past, their heads turning and fingers pointing, but none of them seemed to be inclined to disturb her, which you were grateful for.

Just one more minute, one more moment. You wanted to take her in as she was for just that bit longer.

It was as if she sensed you because, not a second later, she looked up to scan the crowd briefly, and then you were locked in her gaze. There was still quite a distance left between the two of you but even from where you stood, you saw her face lit up to a beaming grin as she met your eyes. She tucked her phone into her back pocket and gingerly pushed off from the column to approach you, sidestepping the people in her way with ease.

The next thing you knew, the familiar scent of wintergreen and mint, mixed with the faint sweetness of cinnamon and vanilla, washed over your senses. And the warm weight of her arms and body was all you could think about–could feel. Then a peck branded your cheek that left them feeling heated despite the dampness of her hair against your skin there.

Squinting through the sudden rawness of your eyes, you wrapped your arms around the strength of her, looping them around her waist as your hands found purchase on the small of her back. You hid your face in the safety of her neck, just like you’d done many times over the years. Like this, it was as if the two of you were still best of friends. Like you still knew each other like you used to.

“Hello, pretty girl,” she breathed against your ear. “Welcome back.”

As she said this, you knew in your mind–believed–that you were finally home. And the thought was enough to steal and return your breath to you.

You whispered.

“It’s good to be home, Alexia.”

———

The car ride was silent. It had started to drizzle not long ago and it had grown heavy enough that Alexia needed to turn the windshield wipers on. The wipers made a steady rhythm when they met the hood of the car and made a slight squeaking noise as they moved up and down the windshield–two of the few sounds that made the air in the car bearable.

The world outside the passenger side’s window had devolved to blobs and blurs from the droplets that clung to the glass. Still, you kept your gaze there as guilt gnawed at your gut the same way you worked your lower lip between your teeth.

The thing was, the walk to the car wasn’t bad at all. The both of you had chatted while Alexia led you to where she parked her car, your duffel bag hoisted casually over her shoulder despite your protests. But the moment the doors of her car slammed shut, so did you–it was as if all the weight of the past few months–exacerbated by the restless plane ride, finally hit you.

And to Alexia’s credit, she’d done everything she could to remove the silence. She asked you about your flight (again) and when that didn’t work, she began to talk football. She asked you about your last season, about how you won your league and wondered about how that must’ve felt like for you. Alexia briefly turned the topic to Barça and sprinkled in some funny stories she hadn’t told you over the sparse messages you’d exchanged that you reacted to. You were just about to settle into the conversation when she inquired about your negotiations with the club and how you felt about returning to Barça; she solicited the reason that made you inclined to come back. At that, you clammed up again. Alexia didn’t seem to notice because she began to mention things you used to do or like–things she didn’t know you didn’t do nor like now–in the quest to get you talking.

For each question she asked, you’d given her back the same kind of nothing: a yes, a no, a hum. The simple drizzle had turned to steady rain pattering against the roof, and the calming sound did nothing to ease the growing tension in the car. Despite the desire to engage in a conversation with Alexia, it was as if all of your thoughts–or at least the capacity to string them together–were hiding behind the dark curtain of your mind, the heavy veil tailored from the same fabric that weighed in your chest. Weariness pervaded your bones and your soul, and it exhausted you past the point of exchanging pleasantries and niceness, a task now seemingly impossible.

So you excused yourself from the conversation. You told her it was jet lag. Alexia nodded in understanding, but the light in her eyes had dimmed, and she trained them on the road with deliberate focus, her lips tightening to a line fit for silence.

Despite not having spent time with her like you used to the last two years you’d been away, the language of her face and body was still familiar to you–and how could they not when they’d carve themselves into the tissues of your mind?–enough to know that she wasn’t convinced at all with what you said. Because maybe, just maybe, you were to her as she was to you: familiar.

The thought provided little comfort, and the guilt felt heavier, another stone dropped into the pitcher.

And the feeling gave way to another thought, unpleasant in the way it told you what you already knew. Alexia took time to drive you to your apartment instead of resting for tomorrow’s practice, and this was how you treat her? How nice.

Then another.

Just like how you treated Olivia, right?

Your eyes closed from the sting that followed, a stitch torn from a newly-sewn wound. And you tried to prevent yourself from crying, but the darkness only served to rub salt to the cut as it made the fleeting images clearer and the words ever louder.

“I’m so stupid! So stupid…”

“Go. Please, just go. You won’t find happiness here.”

A touch to your arm startled you back to the present. The jostle from the gasp you let out was enough to make a tear fall, and you turned to Alexia who already had her eyes on you; her face graced with concern and a question.

The car had stopped, and now parked outside of your apartment complex.

“What’s wrong?” Came the gentle question.

Your heart lurched at the look she laid upon you, followed by an ache, a longing for the old times–back when you used to tell each other everything. But how could you tell her about this? About what led to this? When the fire from that night remained, glowing patiently as an ember in the dark, waiting for the wind to call her name again–to set her aflame again?

Another tear escaped your eye before you could turn away, which you brushed off with the back of your hand before you met Alexia’s gaze again.

“Nothing. I’m just–I’m sorry for being a bitch.” You said with a small, apologetic smile.

Alexia traced some invisible path along your face, regarding you with a pensive look. The moment took long enough that you considered she’d press you for information. Instead, she teased softly with a half-smile, “Don’t worry about it. What else is new?”

Your shoulders eased down a bit.

“Still a smart-mouth, I see,” you laughed with more than a bit of air, “Indeed, what else is new?”

At that, Alexia chuckled with you but the pressing silence returned.

Then Alexia sighed.

“How long has it been since we’ve played together?”

Her brows knitted together at her own question as she leaned back against her seat, putting her hands behind her head which pulled the sleeves of her shirt up just enough to reveal the tattoo on the underside of her arm.

You casted your eyes aside, your gaze fleeting to the unlit window of your apartment.

A memory intruded your mind again.

“I’m not sure,” you half-whispered.

“Two years.” Something in her tone told that she knew that you knew, but she didn’t call you out on it. But it seemed she was more inclined to call you out on something you said a long time ago. “I hope you’ve made peace with whatever made you leave all the way to the States of all places.”

You looked at her. Alexia’s brow was raised in silent expectation. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on.”

“‘Come on’, what?”

“You were offered a place in Lyon–in Bayern. Bayern! When I heard you were leaving, I went, ‘That’s it. Bayern has her’. Imagine my surprise when you said you were going to America.” Alexia scoffed as she gestured in the air with her hands for emphasis. A pause before she continued, “Now, tell me why you really went away.”

“I already told you.”

“Yeah. What was it you said? ‘I’ve always wanted to see what the competition is like there’? For someone who talked about Neuer and Bayern all the time second to Barça, it always made me think how and when the NWSL crossed your mind.”

Guess you don’t know me that well then.

You bit your tongue before you could say it. Instead, you shrugged and sighed, hunching forward so you could rest your elbows on your knees, fingers clasping together as you twiddled your thumbs. “If you don’t want to believe what I said, that’s up to you. I stand by it.”

Alexia regarded you with that same deciphering look she’d been giving you the whole night. And as if she finally understood that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with you, she shook her head and sank back down in her seat.

“Indulge me, then. Tell me, what’s the verdict?” Alexia drawled, dripping with thinly-veiled sarcasm.

It wasn’t like home.

“Really appreciate the judgment all over your tone, Alexia.” You replied drily then added, “And it was great, thank you very much.”

Alexia tilted her chin up to release a laugh. A strand of her hair fell out of place and she brushed it back with a finger.

“Well, you should tell me more about how you enjoyed yourself, then. I’m sure you have a lot of stories to tell.” You heard the unspoken words, ‘Stories you never bothered to tell me through the phone or during the instances we’d met during the time you were away.’

I would’ve enjoyed it better if you were there.

“Where do you want me to begin?” If Alexia heard the weary sigh in your tone, she made no indication she did.

“I don’t know. Where do you want to start?”

I went away because of you.

“At this point, we’ll be here all night.” You laughed.

Alexia chuckled, and then softly she said, “Just tell me anything then.”

Distance didn’t work. My heart is still yours.

You hummed, thinking of a story, as you finally eased back on your seat and then you began.

“Well…”

#ap11 #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #my writing #a/n: that benfica vs barca match today was definitely something #also not sure when ill be able to post chapter two but i hope you guys enjoy this <3

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captainfern · 11 months

Note

May i request your majesty 🐈..

Cosy! Sfw (or if you find a way to make it NSFW then go wild) headcanon/ imagine of fem! Reader, reading to the boys every night or after a mission?? Like.. so mother ?? Bc they mostly fight and train and wrestle so, they have a lil calm, story time moment with the reader ??

Ugh I’m reading a book rn and thinking I just wanna mother these boys and read them a story!! Babies !!!

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"This Is Not A Book Club"

141 x gn!reader [platonic!]

[Imagines 1]

[SFW]

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• summary - what the request says :) • rating - sfw • wordcount - 1.8k • warnings - ik the request is for fem!reader but no specific pronouns/gendered language are used in this, pet name "love" is used once tho, strong language, no smut sorry fellow whores ✋

this idea is so fucking cute i just had to write it omfg. also i love that gif soap and ghost's interactions are just too adorable *pat pat*

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You didn't mean for it to become a habit.

It began on a whim.

After a strenuous mission, you relaxed in your respective room, curled up in your bed, reading a book. The main light was off, and you relied on the soft glow of the lamp on your bedside table. It was a relatively new book— you were only a chapter or so in— when a light knock at your door made you jump.

You hadn't been expecting it. It was pretty late, too.

You were surprised when Gaz poked his head in, apologising for interrupting. He figured he could unwind in your room, since the rest of the 141 were doing their own thing, and he needed some company.

You accepted, of course— how could you not when he looked at you with those deep brown eyes?

He settled on the bed next to you, sprawling himself across it near your feet. You laughed as he sighed, face buried in your duvet. He lifted his head, peering at you quizzically.

"What are you reading?" He asked.

You held the book up. "I... honestly don't know. It's pretty good, so far though."

He hummed, intrigued, as he scooted closer to you, head now resting parallel to your thighs.

"Read to me?" He asked, long eyelashes casting shadows across his cheekbones beneath the lamplight.

You smiled. "I'm two chapters in."

"That's okay," he muttered. "Just fill me in on what's happening."

You did, explaining the last couple of chapters in as much detail as possible. You then told him what the book was about, reading the little summary on the back. By this stage, his head was now resting on your lap atop the blanket, hand cupping your slightly bent knee.

"Right, okay," he said. "Now you can read from where you were reading."

You chuckled at his enthusiasm for you to hurry up and begin. So, you obliged, reading a couple of chapters before his breathing slowed. You looked away from your book, realising that he had fallen asleep, head still resting in your lap. You smiled, gently patting his head.

He mumbled incoherently.

"Gaz, come on, you fell asleep," you giggled, nudging him. "You need to go to bed."

He yawned, forcing himself to sit up. His eyes drooped, bleary with drowse as he stumbled off of your bed.

"Fine, but I'll be back for the next chapter tomorrow." He muttered, leaving with his eyes barely open.

The next evening, at roughly the same time, Gaz found his way into your room again. This time, with Soap in tow.

"Soap?" You greeted skeptically.

"Gaz said you're reading to him. I like a good storytime, too." He smiled, sprawling himself out on the rug beside your bed. He didn't give you any room for argument as Gaz resumed his place resting against your lap.

"Oh...kay... do you want me to fill you in?" You asked as you grabbed your book from your bedside table.

Soap shook his head. "No, no, don't worry. Gaz filled me in on the way here."

You laughed. "Of course he did."

So that's how you began reading to both Gaz and Soap. That night, Soap did much the same as Gaz did previously by falling asleep— face to the ceiling, stretched out on your plush rug. His soft snores prompted your eyes away from the pages. Gaz, too, was drifting in and out of consciousness.

You closed the book gently. "Okay, you two, time for bed."

Gaz got up without much of a fuss, but he had to shake Soap to get the man to cooperate. Soap grumbled and complained the entire time Gaz hoisted him to his feet. Then, still muttering grumpily under his breath, he let Gaz lead him out of the room.

The next day really confused you.

Both Gaz and Soap turned up, and once they were comfortable in their usual positions, a soft knock echoed through your room. Soap opened the door for Price, much to your astonishment.

"You too?" You questioned as your captain took up position in your desk chair, near the foot of your bed.

He relaxed in the chair, legs spread and arms folded across his chest.

"Got nothing else to do, love." He said simply, imploring you to pick up the book with a nod of his head.

You were in slight disbelief, but nevertheless, you continued with the book. While Gaz and Soap relaxed, listening to the peaceful lull of your voice, Price asked the occasional question. You stopped patiently and replied, ignoring the frustrated groans from Soap on your floor.

"Just shut up and listen, Price."

"Watch it, MacTavish."

Not long later, you managed to finish the chapter before Soap fell asleep. You waved them all goodbye as they filed out of your room, and you forced yourself not to laugh as they did.

Now, if you were confused before, the next day threw you completely.

Once again, Gaz lay sprawled out on your bed beside you, Soap on the floor with his arms behind his head. Price returned, too, taking his place in your chair. Then, just one word into the newest chapter, the door creaked open.

Ghost slipped in, almost silently, and you couldn't help but gape at your lieutenant as he lumbered into the room, cozy black hoodie on and hands jammed into the front pocket.

"L.T, I knew you couldn't resist," Soap beamed from the floor. "You want in on the book club?"

You scoffed, smiling. "This is not a book club."

Ghost just shrugged at Soap. "Lonely outside when I can't hear you lot making a racket."

He stepped over Soap and sunk himself onto the end of your bed, leaning himself up against the wall. He stretched his legs out, brushing your and Gaz's feet, knees cracking as he settled down.

You stared at everyone, slightly dumbfounded. Then, you turned to Ghost.

"You're... here willingly?" You asked him.

"Mhm."

"You... willingly want to listen to me read my book?"

"Mhm."

You took a deep breath. "Right, okay, cool. Um, do you need—?"

"Johnny's given me a rundown." He mumbled.

Of course he had.

And that's how it started, just over two weeks ago. Every night, especially after a particularly rough mission, the boys seemed to gravitate to your bedroom. They'd curl up and listen to your soft voice as you read to them; reading them to sleep on many occasions.

Despite Ghost and Price's lack of enthusiasm compared to Soap and Gaz, you could tell they enjoyed it just as much as the younger two did. It made you smile, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside knowing you could bring these hardened military boys some peace and comfort.

"Okay, so you're telling me, the kid didn't even know he was a wizard?" Price asked, leaning forward in his chair.

You laughed. "No, he didn't. Well, now he does."

"Ridiculous." Price muttered, shaking his head.

Ghost scoffed. "It's unrealistic."

Soap rolled his eyes. "Obviously, Ghost, it's a fucking fictional book about wizards an' shite."

"No, I mean, some big cunt with a beard turned up with a fucking ugly cake and told the kid he's a wizard, and the kid just believed him?" Ghost grumbled. His attitude had definitely shifted since the first time he joined their little, as Soap called it, book club.

"Yeah, basically." You smiled.

You had just introduced them to the Harry Potter series. You weren't even halfway through the first book yet.

"Ridiculous." Ghost said, echoing Price.

"Well, what would you have done, eh?" Soap questioned, sitting up, now cross-legged on the fluffy rug.

"What, if a big cunt called Hagrid turned up on my eleventh birthday and told me I'm a wizard?" Ghost mused. "Woulda knifed him, Johnny."

"Whatever." Soap scoffed.

When they weren't arguing about the book you were reading them, the night's with the boys were really peaceful. Relaxing, too.

A balm for their tortured souls, and a salve for the wounds they had earned during battle.

Dusk would fall, and they would limp into the comfort of your bedroom, warm and smelling sweetly of you. Waves of exhaustion would pin them in place while they clung to the presence of you for stability. Some days, all four would find themselves curled up on your bed— Gaz laying next to you, head on your lap; Soap on the floor, but his head resting on the edge of your bed, a hand resting in the crook of your arm as you held the book; Ghost with his back to the wall, your legs propped up over his, his gloved hands stroking circles on your shins; Price settled next to Ghost, shoulder to shoulder, his legs beneath yours as well, a hand resting warmly around your ankle.

They listened carefully, silently, as you read to them, basking in the comforting warmth of you. Battered, bruised, and bleeding from the cuts of battle, they rested tranquilly at your side. Their ears were no longer ringing with echoes of explosions, nostrils no longer filled with the acrid stench of gunpowder and death. They could hear only you, voice silken with each word you spoke. They could smell only you, the candles that burned and permeated the air, rich and sweet and a consoling sense of familiarity.

Towards the end of a chapter, you could sense a shift in the room. Some time ago, Soap had wiggled in beside you, head in the bend of your arm and shoulder. He breathed deeply, slowly, eyes closed and hair dishevelled against the sleeve of your shirt. Gaz, too, breathed slowly as sleep had overtaken him, hand still heavy on your knee.

Ghost had slumped to the side, somehow managing to tuck his hulking frame between Gaz and the wall. Mask still on, you could see his eyes, closed and smeared with black. Price, too, had fallen asleep; still, impressively, sitting upright. His head tilted forward, hat low over his forehead, snoring softly.

You sighed to yourself, closing the book and carefully putting it back on your nightstand, mindful not to disrupt Soap curled into your side like a cat. You nestled back into your bed, snuggled up with your task force, a sight you had never thought you'd see. As you wiggled to get comfortable, Soap stirred, groaning as he looked up at you, still resting his head near your chest.

"S'all right, go back to sleep." You whispered, angling your arm so it draped securely over top of him.

He didn't reply verbally, just burrowed deeper into your side, reaching a hand around to physically tighten your arm around him. He ran his thumb over your knuckles, before he fell back asleep.

Your other hand found Gaz's head, delicately skimming his hairline, smoothing along the soft skin of his forehead and cheek. You heard him sigh contentedly, still deep asleep.

Eventually, the warmth of the room and powerful bodies around you carried you to sleep.

And it was the best sleep you ever had.

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idk if this was good or not lmao but thank you my darling anon <3 this was nice to write mwah mwah xx

#captain'simagines #captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #call of duty imagine #cod fluff #cod mw2 #captain fern not writing smut?? damn #task force 141 #gender neutral reader

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moondirti · 11 months

Text

animalic (4)

← chapter three // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 2.5k summary: things don't go according to plan warnings: enemies to lovers, light bondage, sexual tension, arousal, choking, canon-typical violence, dub-con elements, paralysis, suicidal ideation, self-hatred, angst, miguel o'hara is not nice, no use of y/n notes: y'all. i promise we are getting somewhere. i promise. lmk what you think tho cuz i thrive off comments

“Lyla?”

While you’re – regrettably – unable to make good on your promise to phase through the floor, you catch yourself hoping it splits to swallow you whole instead. It certainly would be a better alternative to the purgatory you currently face.

“Lyla? Come in, Lyla.”

Feeble rays of light filter in through the weathered windows, their reach slowly growing as night surrenders to the wakings of dawn. Variegated motes bob lazily, suspended upon the streams of sun, quivering back and forth between a range of countless colours. Paralysed and splayed atop the frigid, hard ground of the empty store-lot, you try counting them all for lack of anything else to do. Pink, green, orange, gold. You wonder what force chooses the order, whether it’s sequenced to fit some plan of high design.

“¡Ay, coño–”

Slowly, you let yourself scrutinise other things, too. The scent of neglect that permeates the stale air, particularly pungent around the entryway. You trace the yellow-brown mass that runs along the door’s hinge edge, and attribute the vaguely muddy smell to rot. Then, it’s the glint of shattered glass, winking at you from lost corner’s of the room. They look narrow, far too inconvenient to clean out with a standard broom. You revel in the understanding that whoever had been in charge of scouring the wreckage appears to share your habit of quick quitting.

It’s only when your vision begins to water do you divert your attention to the situation at hand. Last you needed to blink, it took half a minute for the command to register, and even longer for the motor neurons in your eyelids to act. By the time you eventually got them closed, you’d already started contemplating whether his venom would be the death of you.

(Lame end to a lame life.)

It didn’t take a genius to figure out, though. You know that, if he wanted to, he could’ve kept imbuing you with the substance until your body was no longer able to perform the basic mechanisms necessary to sustain life. He could have kept his fangs lodged deep into your neck – encroached upon your stuttering veins, bathing in the ichor that flowed – until he felt you go limp, concentrated with his poison. It would have been a denouement to his problems – right there, easy, sandwiched between him and the wall – but it wasn’t. Because he didn’t.

Just like he didn’t let you plummet to your death that day at the quarry, or strangle you while you were unconscious back at HQ.

So, no. It doesn’t take a genius to acknowledge that Miguel O’Hara doesn’t want you dead. As he fiddles with his malfunctioning watch, you endeavour to come up with a divisive list as to why that is.

One: you’ve charmed him. The notion is almost funny enough to elicit a snort, given that you weren’t cast in an immovable anathema.

Two: he’s a good guy. Somehow, this option seems less viable to you than the first.

You find your third prospect slinging from the threads of a fraying memory.

You’d been a student, before – attending college at a reputable institute close to home. It’s easy to forget what it was like most nights: cramped in that two hundred square foot dorm, borderline losing it as you tried to validate your claims on matter-antimatter rockets and their potential contribution to interstellar travel. There were concerns of total annihilation, and sourcing, and an array of other limitations – that which you’d dedicated your academic career to drawing up proposals for. It’s laughable now; the stress and theories blurring together to form a vague picture of your long-lost ambition.

You have a hard time conjuring what exact future you were so hopeful for, but the lamp by your roommate’s bed remains clear in your mind’s eye. Warm-white, comforting. For as long as you were awake, tapping away at a never-ending thesis, she’d work through the latest volume of her beloved murder mystery anthology.

It was the night before your start at an internship with Alchemax that the series came to a close. Her aggravated screams still ring fresh behind the clouded pane of time. You had thrown your pillow at her in a belligerent plea.

(You wanna elaborate?

The suspect behind every case was shot!

So? Isn’t that a good thing?

No, dumbass. It means the detectives fucking lost! They’ll never be able to prove how right they were.)

Admittedly, you know very little about Miguel, but you have an idea of what matters most to him. It’s entirely possible, then, that he refuses to kill you for what your death would do to negate his efforts thus far.

“Oye,”

Your mental traipse is reeled in when the devil himself snaps at you. Steadily, your pupils roll up to look at him.

“I need your day pass.”

You continue to stare. His jaw clenches.

“Because of your little headbutt outside, my watch is busted. My only hope of fixing it is by using the parts of your day pass.”

Is he asking? Does he expect you to respond?

You can’t fool yourself into believing he’s that ignorant.

But Miguel stays on standby, scanning your lax form. He takes in the webs that wrap around your waist, branching out to your thighs and shoulders, restraining your arms behind your back. When his eyes meet yours again, the reluctant question you see glaze over them pushes the recognition to the forefront of your mind.

He is asking.

Or, notifying – making sure you’re aware of what he’s about to do.

God, you wish you could speak. You’ve never come up with so much to say without promptly blurting it out before. Irritation and amusement rip at one another within you, locked in a brutal dogfight fated to have no real winner. How hypocritical of him to pick and choose when your treatment takes priority over his mission; you’re littered in marks that all point to his prior negligence of such subtle humanity. Four stabs above your wrist, a pounding migraine at your temple. If it weren’t for your paralysed stomach, you’re certain you would have regurgitated your innards as consequence to the concussion he’s given you.

But, oh.

How funny would it be if you agreed. To let him discover the harrowing truth for himself.

Deliberately, you muster an affirming blink.

Miguel's weariness escapes him in a heavy sigh, the weight of it etched upon his expression. Thick brows furrow, evidence to his age creasing between them, before he sinks down with a purposeful grace and carefully flips you over. Despite the resentment that festers in your gut, you can’t help but hiss a mental sigh of relief at the service it does to your elbows, which had begun throbbing in response to the pressure that the hardwood floor exerted.

From that point onward, it becomes a guessing game of sorts; you can’t see him, nor are you able to tilt your head and confirm your assumptions as to what he’s doing. Deprived of your most reliable sense, the others strain to fill the gaps in your knowledge, drawing upon every available cue; the sound of his miniscule grunts, the warmth of his skin – that which penetrates through his gloves. You’re alarmed into attempted action when the characteristic rip of his claws equipping pierces the strained air – your body powerless in addressing the adrenaline it secretes – until the spider-man touches his forefinger to your palm.

“Relax.” He all but commands. “I’m just cutting the webs off.”

You’ve no reason to trust him, of course, but you can’t exactly pitch a complaint right now.

(Perhaps it’s in your best interests to ignore how easy he’d been able to read you.)

A few moments of jostling ensue, before he withdraws with a curse. Your arms remain ensnared in the tight restraints, the ache that smarts your skin all too real for the continued predicament to be illusory. An assortment of jokes occur to you.

Can’t get it up?

In your peripheral, you catch him weighing his options. The pause is laden with a sticky indecision – this change in placement, you realise, exacerbates the already difficult task of breathing for you.

While you fixate on that fact, he seems to come to a conclusion. With one swift manoeuvre, he positions himself astride your thighs, straddling the deadened extremities, and reaches forward to push your wrists apart. You’re quick to catch on to his intention, how the arrangement gives him better leverage, yet–

His groyne presses into the swell of your ass, worsening with every bid to sever the webbing. It’s impossible not to notice, especially not when the seam of your jeans start to shift in tandem, smoothing over your clothed core. It’s not exactly ecstasy, far from it — no rainbow blooms, tingling gold from your toes to your nose – but it’s been ages since you were last roused like this. Enough for it to feel brand new, a wrapped curse in a prim little bow, eager for all that you shouldn’t be.

And… Christ–

And then he unfastens the lines around your arms, and runs his hands up your skin. It’s not gentle, nor is it brutish, but you can feel his desperation escalating. His touches grow progressively antagonistic, kneading your palms up to your shoulders, patting down to the shallow pockets of your pants. You’re searched like you hold the key to his success – you suppose that, in some oddly comical way, you do. And it should be upsetting, blasphemous.

But you’re no sacred thing. You’d laid down that possibility a long time ago.

No. You’re foul, questionable at your best, and erupt into goosebumps over the ruthless grip of a man who hates your very soul. You’re a deeply detestable spirit, truly, but a detestable spirit who has just managed to get one up on Miguel O’Hara.

He throws you back around, wrapping his hands around your throat. His snarl is primal, maturated in acrid anger.

“Where is it?”

You’re sure that, in some alternate reality, your face is stretched in a shit-eating grin.

“Where’s the fucking day pass?”

Your satisfaction is short-lived.

You’ve never been one to notably detest humiliation. It’s productive – healthy, even – in smaller doses; a fitting consequence for those who you deem deserve it. Yet, as you find yourself unceremoniously hoisted over Miguel’s shoulder, forced into a meandering parade through the streets of New York, you breach into uncharted territory – a threshold where your tolerance encounters its breaking point.

He makes no effort to soften his strides, unmoved by the idea of providing even a shred of respite for your susceptible self. If anything, it feels as though he deliberately seeks out the harshest terrain, silently chastising your earlier defiance in the most passive aggressive manner known to man. He’d reinforced your constraints before marching out on this fruitless venture, and now you bobble uselessly, backside pointed upward, anchored solely by the meaty arm around your knees.

At least you’ve regained control of your mouth.

“D’stroyed it. Gone. Dearly d’parted–”

“If you’re going to run that little mouth, then make it helpful.”

“M’bein’ helpfoo,” you start, straining your weakened vocal cords in an effort to mock him. The grip of paralysis may have slackened its hold, but neurotransmission remains at an all time, sluggish low. In all actuality, it astounds you that he can even begin to decipher your words from the tangled murmurs they become.

“You had it on at the convenience, and a little bit afterward. You can’t expect me to believe that you dealt with it while running for your life.”

Running for your life. Sure.

Displeasure sparks at the confidence he imbues in his assumption.

“Escoos m– hnngh–” A sudden jump of stress robs you of breath, your stomach plummeting alongside the rapidly distancing ground. As Miguel propels himself above the city skyline, effortlessly evading the crowded streets via a web he’d grappled to an adjacent building, you’re confronted with a stark reality – that this is the very first time you have ever, and likely will ever, experience what it’s like to swing.

It’s exhilarating and nauseating all at once, gravity relinquishing its command as you transcend the confines of the physical, soaring through some reality where law loses significance. If it had been you, your arms and skill and jurisdiction, you’d never come down. But maybe that’s why it isn’t; maybe your life was meant to lead up to this, and only ever this.

(Not antimatter technologies or heroic conquest. Yeah, this feels more fitting.)

Your skin prickles. You phase through the sturdy frame that’s held you up so far, and plummet from its grasp.

Slicing through the boundless sky, you’re accompanied by a profound tranquillity. It isn’t absolute – fear still gnaws at your core, its presence undeniable. But, amidst the churning horror, your instincts are fainter than they ought to be. They whisper in a subdued tone, overshadowed by conflicting conceptions. One, being the inference you’d drawn earlier about how – whether you like it or not – Miguel would not let you die.

Another, quieter suspicion hints toward the full reality of your… relief.

Though, of course, you’re right about the former. Tree-trunk biceps wrap around your waist, pulling you close as he slingshots off to a nearby rooftop. You flop into him, a ragdoll to the overwhelming force of his agitation, and squeeze your eyes shut at the hints of patchouli permeating from under his mask.

You don’t have to face the gospel just yet.

“¿Qué mierda? Eh?” He shouts, propping you up against a ledge. “What the fuck was that?”

You don’t have an answer for him. Your heart lurches, catching up to the urgency at hand, striking on the hollow bars of your ribcage to some reckless tune. It’s only amplified by the torrent of blood distending through your system, throbbing at your temple, rushing by your ears.

What the fuck, indeed.

He damns you, it seems, with a fervour that breaches the heavens, as if willing God Himself to commit his plea to eternal memory. Or not; truthfully, you can’t tell. With the roar of your own snowballing thrill, it becomes impossible to discern the sequence of interrogations that explode from him. The world around you fades to the background, your preoccupancy consumed by the disquietude it leaves in its wake.

Your sense is only validated a minute later when, two blocks away, an ear-piercing shriek ruptures your dissociation.

Miguel stiffens, slowly turning to face its source.

𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘈𝘙𝘈𝘊𝘏𝘕𝘖-𝘏𝘜𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘖𝘐𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘓𝘠-𝘔𝘜𝘓𝘛𝘐𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘚𝘌 𝘋𝘈𝘛𝘈𝘉𝘈𝘚𝘌:

Earth-15 – analysed, marked as closed.

Spider-totem – The Spider: soon after being bit by his radioactive spider, convicted felon Peter Parker merged with Earth-15’s variation of the carnage Symbiote.

Notes – do not engage, at any cost.

chapter five →

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mikodrawnnarratives · 6 months

Text

*cracks knuckles* @paper-lilypie

WEDDING BELLS YALL

and brainrot. I've been sketching these ideas out for like, a year. And done nothing with them until this point

this has been festering. in my mind.

*note: I didn't get around to drawing it, but I imagine Sun, Moon, and Y/n say their vows at the Bell place thingie that I need to reread in the fic. Y'know, the place Moon climbs up to, to get away from y/n. Yeh they declare their love up there and smoochies*

I should really reread that bit actually lol

Before moving forward, I'm gonna rant about outfits

this is the outfit that I base Sun and Moon's wedding look on because I just think it fits so well. I share this so you guys see the vision and forgive my inexperience with drawing these folds

Cool? cool.

Also, I went through several variations of what Y/n would wear before settling on this bc nothing that came up when I searched "gender neutral wedding gear" really fit

Wanted a mix between gown and suit and y'know this ended up being more suit but I like it a lot so we're going with that. It also came to me in a vision so that has to say something.

(Ok but I did envision Y/n having a dress similar to this one character's dress in Bad Guys but I couldn't draw it so I scrapped it)

(ok some details stayed but most of the concept had to go)

so like- you see it right?

Btw. All of them (including guests) have pockets. just. to ease your mind.

ok back to actually drawn wedding shenanigans

Because, there are many, wedding shenanigans

Y'know the trend of smashing wedding cake into the bride/groom/wedded partner's face right?

There's no way this wouldn't escalate and y/n wouldn't enlist their siblings in the chaos.

They'll get like- one or two good wedding pics before this.

the cake tasted good tho

Let me just say. I am so proud of how I did these hands I'm oogling my own art I did so good GHGHHHHHHFDS

I like??? Want to do more?????

cuties shenanigans below they are obnoxious and they know it

By the way by the way you may notice the flower dress

I WILL be getting around to Lily x DCA STUFF I WILL

Tho I got busy and had a really hard time drawing/finishing sketches when I did have time so. I chose to post what I have so far so it's out before November ends

CONSIDER THIS A PART 1

LILY YOU ARE NOT SAFE

well Ig u are safe

for nowwwww

Bouquet toss real

fun fact I initially wanted to draw Sun, Moon, and Copper y/n tossing the bouquet together

but their arm lengths would NOT make that work kjfdkljsdklj

so y/n tosses the bouquet bc they are the specialest

(Or they won the round of monopoly)

(who's to say)

(we don't talk about game night)

But all three of them are the criminal. masterminds. They planned this from the start. Holly and Chica HAD NO CHANCE after the role they played in getting Y/N AND SUN AND MOON together.

I think this video would also be something cute that I could see happening for their wedding lol

Y/n and the daycare attendants hand the bouquet to Holly and then she gets proposed to by Chica

Anyway I still have a whole list of wedding shenanigans I need to draw

Sarah and Yao being some because when I tried before I couldn't sketch them out to my liking.

And the more CCRT gets expanded on, the more I'm sure will be present in their wedding since there are only 3 chapters out so far and enough art for me to make my guesses dlkkldsf

I'm sure there are plenty of fun things that can be included into this wedding, or edited, once more is revealed of the characters and their relationships

and who would be wedding guests is a little more up in the air, for instance and... who'd be able to show up in the first place considering unknown state of... living

(*cough cough*-Glamrock Foxy-*cough cough*)

...and being on good terms! thats.. important too. y'know moon and foxy weren't really exes but it may still be a bit awkward if he got invited y'know yknow

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thisonegirl · 13 days

Text

Yes yes, a lot are Feyd-Rautha. I can’t help that I find bald, buff and psychotic attractive (ONLY FICTIONAL MEN THO). I’ve been looking for more Duncan Idaho fics to balance this out tho, so please let me know if you have good ones😉

⚠️WARNING⚠️quite a bit of these (most) are not safe for work content. Some include dark themes such as dub-con and non-con and some are very sexually graphic. Symbols will be used to distinguish them.

MINORS DNI —> ALL OF THIS CONTENT IS +18 ONLY

main masterlist

❤️‍🔥 - nsfw 🖤- dark ❤️‍🩹 - angst 💕- sfw 🏆- favorite

PS : for series, I am linking my favorite part/chapter (please let me know if it would be better to link the first part or the master list if it’s available)

duncan idaho | We Made An Agreement | one shot | by @missjadesfics - ❤️‍🔥

duncan idaho | In the Stillness Of Remembering | one shot | by @charnelhouse - ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥

duncan idaho | The Sword Master and The Ward | one shot | by @missjadesfics - ❤️‍🔥

paul atreides | The Knife of Muad'dib | series | by @ofsappho - 💕

paul atreides | The Emperor's Wife | series | by @kteezy997 - ❤️‍🩹

paul atreides | Death Of A Star | two-part | by @nonpoppin - ❤️‍🩹 (🏆)

paul atreides | Angel Lips | two-part | by @nonpoppin - ❤️‍🩹

paul atreides | Holy Crowns | series | by @fastlikealambo - 💕

paul atreides | Do You Believe In Us? | one shot | by @murdrdocs - ❤️‍🔥

paul atreides | Gilded Lily | two-part | by @nonpoppin - ❤️‍🩹

paul atreides | Beginning Of The End | two-part | by @nonpoppin - ❤️‍🩹 (🏆)

leto atreides | I'm Not The Only One | series | by @nyrasproblm - ❤️‍🩹

feyd-rautha | The Little Death | series | by @sebastianswallows - ❤️‍🔥 (gets dark 🖤)

feyd-rautha | Feyd Fantasy | series | by @austinbutlerslovers - ❤️‍🔥 (🏆)

feyd-rautha | Thrown To The Wolves | series | by @sansaorgana - ❤️‍🔥 (🏆)

feyd-rautha | These Destined Ends | series | by @houserautha - ❤️‍🔥

feyd-rautha | Damaged Goods | one shot | by @sansaorgana - 🖤

feyd-rautha | Unheavenly Creatures | series | by @luminnara - ❤️‍🔥

feyd-rautha | Savage Bonds | series | by @foreverdolly - 🖤

feyd-rautha | Veil of Deception | series | by @lovetwist - 🖤

feyd-rautha | Play with Fire | one shot | by @perlelune - 🖤

feyd-rautha | The Rage Of A Harkonnen | one shot | by @aviawrites - ❤️‍🩹

feyd-rautha | Right Hand | series | by @kasagia - ❤️‍🔥

feyd-rautha | Boadicea | one shot | by @perlelune - 🖤

feyd-rautha | The Void Calls | series | by @e1dritchjackal0pe - ❤️‍🔥

feyd-rautha | Stranger | series | by @space-mango-company - 💕 (with a hint of ❤️‍🩹so far)

#dune movie #dune part one #dune part two #duncan idaho #paul atreides #feyd rautha harkonnen #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation #smut #dark romance #thisonegirl masterlist

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acescorazon · 6 months

Note

Crocodile x Mihawk x Buggy fic idea for you: Mihawk and Crocodile are stunned when they each discover both Yoru and Crocodile's gold hook missing. The both of them immediately suspect that Buggy did something. Pissed six ways to Hell they go looking for their "fearless leader". They find him in one of the workshops and all anger is replaced with astonishment when they find Buggy polishing Yoru to a radiant shine, while Crocodile's hook hand is already gleaming like it's been kissed by the sun itself. When they get closer, Mihawk is quietly stunned to see that Buggy has gone so far as to rewrap the hilt of the strongest blade in brand new gleaming white leather. Buggy does his best to be non-chalant as he explains that he simply wants his " Lieutenants" looking their best as he hands Crocodile his hook and assures Mihawk he's almost done polishing Yoru. The gesture actually shifts Mihawk and Crocodile's attitude towards Buggy after that. Before he knows it, Buggy is the one getting stunned when he winds up with the world's strongest swordsman and the former but still formidable leader of Baroque Works declaring that they are both in love with him and mean belong to him just as much as he does to them. Cue the absolute chaos that somehow becomes a genuinely loving throuple and a true for to be reckoned with in the pirate world.

IK WE'VE ALREADY TALKED BUT HI AGAIN POOKIE LOL. Anyways this is going to be another one of the requests i turn into a little series, if you didn't see the post where i went into more details click here. (That's if you want to, you don't have to LOL.) ALSO PT2 this is going to be the series i was talking about where i'm going to try and experiment with alternating POVS as mentioned here.

Anyways i hope everything goes well, and i'm going to debut the first three chapters before we get into anything serious, (but again, as mentioned before, i want everyone's feed back please so i know this is something yall might want again in the future. ((OR MIGHT NOT LOL) ) ) I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS THO POOKIE AND ILY MUAHHHHH.

AWYWHOREEEEEE LETS GET IT.

Title: Buggy's guide to bagging boyfriends

Ch: 1/?

Rating: PG-ish for now ig (But let's talk later about it.)

Word count: 2835

Chapter except:

The room fills with tension as the two other members of Cross Guild glare at him, and Crocodile is the first to speak up, “Where’s my damn hook?!” He asks, and even though it's first thing in the morning, his voice is still, loud, deep, and intimidating, and he doesn’t sound like he’s in a good mood… but, then again, Buggy doesn’t think he ever is. Mihawk follows suit, asking his own question afterwards in a significantly quieter, yet equally as intimidating voice, “...And why do you have my sword?”

Well, so much for the surprise...

It’s not like Buggy’s a workaholic or anything like that, he’s far from it actually. It’s just that even after he’s done doing his duties for the day, he often finds it hard to shut his brain off at night. He often tosses and turns in his bed, thinking about what he has to do in the morning or for the week, and sometimes finds himself wanting to get a head start on things. Tonight, he finds himself in another one of those situations, unable to sleep no matter how hard he tries because he keeps on thinking about Cross Guild and all that he has to do.

He has to have new weapons and medical supplies ordered, and he also has new men to welcome into the crew, each of whom he has to find a job for because Mihawk and Crocodile, while skilled in many things, aren’t big fans of doing the more simple tasks; like assigning their men jobs or giving them pep talks, or sending their families money after they’ve made an enemy out of themselves for attacking the marines. Damn, he has more bounties that need to be made too, and he has old ones that need to be taken off the market.

There’s so much to do, and part of him wants to go to sleep, but another part of him also wants to get back up and get right back to work again. It’s weird.

Two, three, and then four o'clock, quickly passes him by as he continues to think about all that he has to do. He feels full of energy right now despite the fact that prior to lying down, he felt exhausted. He kept yawning and could barely keep his eyes open, but now, as he lies in his bed, it seems like he can’t fall asleep no matter how hard he tries. It seems like his previous exhaustion was just a sick prank his brain played on him. Thanks, brain. He continues to think about Cross Guild, he wasn’t exactly serious about it before. He was more or less just in it because he needed to repay his debt to Crocodile, but now… Well, he can’t say it’s the worst thing in the world.

It has its cons of course: Mihawk and Crocodile are always bullying him, plus they make him run around like a chicken with its head cut off, doing what could only be considered more of a manager role than the big boss role, but Buggy kind of enjoys it actually. It makes the days go by a little quicker because he has so many things to do and men to look after these days, and he thinks his responsibilities are only going to grow in the future.

His thoughts shift slightly, and he goes from thinking about all the things he needs to do to thinking about his ‘subordinates’ and his relationship with them. Buggy’s always had a rather rocky relationship with Mihawk and Crocodile but…It’s not like he would be opposed to being their friend or anything like that, the two just never seemed interested in anything other than a work relationship (or beating him up.) But maybe if Buggy actually put in an effort to be their friend, they could fix things and this Cross Guild thing could really kick ass! Perhaps if he did something nice for them, they’d stop hating him and see that Buggy’s not that bad of a guy after all.

Should he do that?

He finds himself wondering if he should just give this whole Cross Guild thing his all, you know, make the best out of a bad situation because he’s not going anywhere any time soon… Maybe there are ways to make his, Mihawk, and Crocodile’s relationship better, like, maybe he could get them all matching red cloaks, that’d make them look like a flashy team, right?? Okay, they’d probably kill him on the spot if he did something like that. Oh, uh, maybe he could gift them some sake! Wait…They’re kind of snobby and only drink aged wine or some crap. Uh, uh… what could he do for them?

A sudden idea pops up in Buggy’s mind and he glances over at the clock by his bedside again, wondering how in just a few short seconds it went from four in the morning to almost six. Gah, time doesn’t make sense, but that doesn’t matter right now.

What are the most important things to Crocodile and Mihawk? Why, it’s their hook and sword of course! Well, actually, he’s pretty sure the most important thing to Crocodile is money and power, but that doesn’t matter! What if he shined their things for them!! That would be nice, wouldn’t it? And then they would definitely stop hating him and being mean to him, right? They’d have to! They’ll want to be his best friend if he does something that nice!! Buggy will give Crocodile’s hook and Mihawk’s sword a nice shine, and then they’ll be all like, ‘Oh, my god, Buggy. You’re so amazing, you’re so wonderful, you’re so sexy and smart, we love you!!!!’ Okay, wait, they probably won’t do the last thing, but Buggy can hear their praises now.

God, he’s so smart.

Buggy hops out of bed, quickly gets himself dressed, and then makes his way out of his tent. The island feels so calm and peaceful right now as his men continue to sleep in the early morning hours. Everything is deserted and quiet, and Buggy enjoys the scenery, finding Emptee Bluffs island the most beautiful during early summer mornings such as this. Buggy just so happens to notice that the sun is just barely beginning to peek over the horizon as he heads to Crocodile’s tent first, and he takes a moment to admire its beauty before continuing on with his tasks. He's so excited for this! He’s going to have two, not one, but two, super cool best friends!

As Crocodile’s tent comes into view, Buggy’s heart starts pounding in his chest because, despite knowing he has nothing but good intentions, he knows that if Crocodile were to discover what he plans on doing, then he’d wring his neck for sure. So, he quietly sneaks into Crocodile’s tent, and in his room, he can just barely make out the soft sounds of snoring coming from over at his bed. Perfect, Buggy thinks, hoping that there might be a chance that Crocodile doesn’t sleep with his hook on, and as he crouches down and makes his way slowly across the dimly lit room, he notices the object of his desire lying right on top of Crocodile’s nightstand.

Perfect. He’s going to be so surprised! Buggy’s going to just take this for a little while, but he’s going to make sure he returns Crocodile’s hook, and of course, Mihawk’s sword, before either of them realizes that their belongings have even gone missing!

Buggy quickly snatches up Crocodile’s hook, clutching it close to his chest, and then goes after his next target: Yoru. He thinks things might be a little more difficult considering that Mihawk may very well be awake at this time since he seems like an early riser, and Buggy has often seen him taking morning walks around the island or getting a cup of coffee from the cafeteria. It’ll be alright though, maybe he’ll be asleep or out of his tent. Buggy wastes little time making his way over to Mihawk’s tent, peeking his head in first to see if he’s awake or even inside, and when he realizes that his tent is empty, but Yoru is resting against the side of his bed, he grins, grabbing Mihawk’s beloved sword and quickly making a run for it.

Buggy can try to hide Crocodile’s hook but, obviously, it’ll be a little hard given its size, but there’s no way that he could possibly hide Mihawk’s sword, so he makes a quick run for it towards one of the island’s workshops, grunting on the way there from the sheer weight of both items. He looks around the shop once he’s inside, searching for some polishing cream and a rag, and struggling for a moment because he doesn’t usually come to this place. Usually, he just stops by for a few minutes to check up on his men, so he doesn’t know where anything is. Everything is so familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, but he eventually finds what he needs and begins working on his surprise, having a seat on a stool and polishing Crocodile’s hook first.

He grunts again as he holds the heavy metal in his hands, wondering how Crocodile can even use this as a prosthetic with how heavy it is. He thinks it has to be at least a good thirty pounds alone, but that’s none of Buggy’s concern, he just took it so that he would be able to give it the shine it needs. Not only does giving this bad boy a good shine seem nice, but wouldn’t it be cooler if Crocodile engaged in battle with the Marines or even one of the mighty four emperors (not Buggy though.) and he had the coolest, most shiniest, most bad ass hook the world’s ever seen?!

Hell yeah, it would be! Crocodile is going to look so freaking cool thanks to Buggy!!!

He polishes the hook once, but it honestly doesn’t look shiny enough the first time around, so Buggy decides to polish it again, and then actually a third time because he wants that bad boy to shine like a diamond…even though it’s gold. It doesn’t matter, he just wants it to look pretty. He wants it so shiny that light will bounce off it and blind people, that’s how shiny he wants Crocodile’s gold hook to be, and as he finishes polishing it, he smiles to himself, now a little sweaty because of the poor ventilation in the workshop.

Buggy moves on to Yoru next and as he holds the sword up, he once again takes the time to mentally complain about the pure weight of the object alone, wondering how Mihawk carries the damn thing on his back all the time without having any problems. He must have a spine made out of steel.

(Buggy wishes he could say the same.)

Buggy stares at the sword, admiring its beauty for a moment before lying it down on the workbench in front of him, he notices as he begins to polish the blade that the bandages around the hilt are a little ragged and dirty now, most likely from how much its owner uses it, and Buggy gets another idea in his head at that moment, wondering if there’s anything that he can rewrap the hilt of the sword with. He figures that he’ll worry about that a bit later though as he begins to polish Yoru, and just like with Crocodile’s hook, Buggy can’t help but think that the sword would look so much cooler and prettier if it was shinier. Like, yeah, it’s already stunning, but it just needs that extra layer of flashiness to really make it stand out, and so he takes his time polishing the blade, shining it until it’s bright and pretty, and so dazzling it makes Buggy’s eyes hurt, and once he’s done he looks for something to rewrap the hilt with.

It takes him a little while, but he does eventually find some white leather that he thinks could probably be used to wrap the hilt with, and he begins to unwrap the bandages from around the sword, which, by the way, takes a whole lot longer than Buggy thought it would. He eventually manages to get the bandages wrapped around the hilt off though, and then proceeds to wrap, and unwrap, and then wrap the sword again. He does this several times because this too, isn’t as easy as he thought it would be, but he slowly starts to figure out how to make the leather around the hilt look juuuust right...When all of a sudden, he hears loud, quick footsteps coming from the outside of the tent, but he figures it's just his men ready to start their day.

How long have I been here? Buggy wonders as he continues to wrap Yoru’s hilt. He doesn’t have a watch on him, but he doesn’t feel like he’s spent that much time in the workshop, maybe because he’s genuinely enjoying himself and likes the idea of possibly making Mihawk and Crocodile happy?

“Hey, Clown, you in there?!”

Buggy pauses in an instant. Crocodile…? He wonders, taking a moment to figure out who the gravelly voice that just called out to him belongs to. Oh no! The surprise, it’s going to be ruined if he doesn–

Too late.

Mihawk and Crocodile come barging into the tent, both red in the face and looking like they want to snap Buggy’s neck but to be fair, they always look like that. Buggy pauses for a moment and stares up at his two chief officers, unsure of how to explain himself now that he’s been caught. Damn it, he really thought that he could get everything done before they realized their stuff was missing!! Seriously, how long has he been in the workshop?!

Well, so much for the surprise...

Buggy places Yoru down for a moment as the other two former warlords approach him, and he notices how their expressions go from unbridled rage to pure confusion in a moment’s notice as soon as they get a little closer to him. He stands up and picks up Crocodile’s hook first and hands it to him, “I know I shouldn’t have taken your stuff,” He admits, and both Mihawk and Crocodile’s confusion only seems to grow, “But I just suddenly thought to myself: ‘Wow, i want to do something nice for them so that maybe we could be friends…and that you guys would look so cool if your weapons were all clean and shiny…” He chuckles lightly for a moment, trying to find the right words to explain how he got ahead of himself, but everything was all out of the goodness of his heart.

“Seriously, guys, i was hoping that i could get everything polished before you even noticed your things were gone, but obviously that didn’t happen…” He sighs, rubbing the back of his head, “But, yeah, i wasn’t trying to make you guys mad or anything, just wanted you to look cool and to be friends!”

There’s absolute silence after Buggy’s explanation. Crocodile looks down at his hook, twisting and turning it in his hand as he examines it, and then suddenly he mutters a quiet, “Whatever, just don’t steal it again.” before he makes his leave, and honestly… Considering this is Crocodile we’re talking about, Buggy feels like things went a lot better than they could have… but still, he’s a little disappointed at that reaction. Was Crocodile’s hook not shiny enough? Or is he just really upset that Buggy stole his hand in the first place? Ah, shucks… Maybe he messed up. Maybe he should have done something else for him instead…Is his relationship with Crocodile going to be even more strained because of this?

Aw, man. He hopes not!

Buggy turns to Mihawk next, who is still staring at him speechlessly with wide eyes. He gives him a small, little smile, hoping that he hasn’t screwed things up with Mihawk too, “Uh, no offense, but the bandages around your sword were a little worn out, so uh, i thought i’d rewrap your sword too. I’m almost done, just give me a second,” Buggy tells him and then sits back down on the stool he was using, quickly finishing his job and wrapping Yoru’s hilt tightly, and afterwards he stands back up and gives Mihawk a proper grin, hoping that he might be a little more appreciative of his gift. “There! All done,” He says, handing the sword back to its owner.

Mihawk continues to just stare at him even after he gets his sword back, and honestly, Buggy didn’t do any of this for a thank you or praise, even though that would be nice, he did this because he genuinely wanted to change things between him, Hawkeye, and Crocodile…So, he’s a little shocked when Mihawk simply sighs before quickly leaving the workshop too, not even saying another word to Buggy.

…So, are they not going to be super cool best friends?

((A/N: Hopefully this isn't ASS.))

#one piece #cross guild #REMEMBER THIS IS A FUN LIL TEST #A TRIAL AND ERROR IF U WILL :)#yall are free to give me the feedback you want lol #my writing #asks

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drefear · 10 months

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Hail to the King

Chapter 5: Distractions

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs.

TW: mentions of smut, reader is a lot ruder now, Miguel's still kinda annoying, stalking, lying.

A/N: This chapter is not very horny, I know, but it’s a lot of story for the plot, so bare with me (there’s a little bit of sexy in the next part tho so don’t worry)

The days at Gwen’s were peaceful and calming, having someone around to help you mentally sort through your mess. She was sweet and honest about everything, and you couldn’t help but love having a friend through all of this insanity.

Lyla visited the second day and brought some sort of news, although you weren’t so sure if it was good or bad.

“So there was a man coming to my fire escape?” You cleared up and Lyla nodded, big sunglasses on the top of her head now. Her eyes glanced between you and Gwen before she spoke again.

“I had facial recognition software identify him, and he seems to be a part of another mob in Nueva York.” She opened her laptop and activated the holographic spectating, using a special glove that only covered three of her fingers and poking at the holograms. Expanding to one area, she showed you his face closer. Your eyes scanned something before your eyes widened. “Stop.” You touched her shoulder, “That… that was Eddie’s best friend, he was at our wedding.” You mumbled, thinking to yourself about the guest list you’d worked so hard on. The two women stared at you as you pulled out your phone and scrolled through many photos, landing on one and zooming in. You were right. In the far left corner, smiling, was that man.

“What was his name?” Gwen asked, and you and Lyla both answered at the same time.

“William Baker.” The two of you looked at each other and you just sighed.

“Listen, I know you’re not going to want to hear this, but you need to stay somewhere else for a few days.” Lyla continued and Gwen just nodded along, but you slumped your shoulders.

“I can’t keep staying here, what if they find me here? I’d be putting Gwen in danger.” You frantically looked between Lyla and Gwen, and Lyla bit her lip.

“Stay with one of the guys. Hoobie used to let me stay over all the time-” Gwen spoke, but your brows furrowed.

“How do you know Hobie?” You asked and Gwen’s eyes snapped to yours, then to Lyla’s. Something was wrong again, you could feel it. You repeated your question, this time much more firm. “Gwen. How do you know Hobie?”

“He’s… he would come into the restaurant sometimes, he’s a lot closer to Miles than he is with me-” She smiled, but you weren’t buying it. They were all keeping something from you.

“He was closer to Miles, but he used to let you sleep over?” You clarified, and she scratched her head.

“Yeah, well, it was only once or twice, I was just exaggerating.”

“Uh-huh.” You stared her down before hearing your cell phone ring, MIguel’s name popping up as you shot her a warning glance once more. “I’m going to answer him, and then you’re going to tell me what you’re hiding.” A look of relief crossed Gwen’s face before you stood up and moved to go talk in the kitchen. “Yes?” You answered, now annoyed.

“Has Lyla filled you in yet?” He spoke with finality.

“Yeah, and I know him. He was friends with Eddie, and he was at my wedding, so I guess you were right about the outside help.” Your lips hated how the conversation tasted as you admitted he was right.

“Miggy, come back to bed.” A feminine voice spoke from Miguel’s end of the phone and you just scrunched your eyes together.

“I’m busy.” He answered, and you could hear the irritation in how he spoke.

“You sound like you’ve had a good morning so far.” You shot at him and he groaned.

“Not in the slightest. These women are too clingy, I can’t stand it.” He explained in frustration and you could hear a door slam shut.

“Well, as much as I’d love to discuss your personal problems, I have other issues to ask about.” “Shoot.”

“What is Gwen hiding from me?” You asked and his side fell quiet, something you weren’t used to. He always had some sarcastic one liners to shut you up, or shut you down with. His silence usually meant that the truth was bad.

“In this line of business, if you’re not being told something, it’s almost always for your own good. Try not to meddle too deep, or you might not like what you find.”

“Don’t try to say some hero shit, I want the truth if I can’t even sleep in my own bed.” You demanded and he just sighed.

“Fine. Come to my apartment in two hours.” He concluded and hung up, leaving you without a solid answer once more. The bastard.

Time felt like it was moving slower than normal as you got ready, Lyla sitting on Gwen’s bed as you got dressed.

“I feel like Miguel just needs a woman to put him in his place, ya know?” Lyla rambled on about how your boss was just a big softie with female problems, but you weren’t buying it.

“He needs to see a therapist for his sex addiction, actually.” You answered, which made Lyla laugh as Gwen sat quietly. She’d looked guilty ever since you’d come back from your phone call with Miguel. Who could blame her? She was lying about your safety, hiding crucial information from you while you were staying under her roof. It felt awful.

“Maybe he’s lonely?” Gwen chimed in, making both you and Lyla answer at the same time once more.

“Definitely not.” The synchronization made you all laugh. Gwen was a wonderful friend, that was for sure, but Lyla was a whole other level of bonding. It was as if she was programmed to be your best friend, and she was doing an incredible job.

The three of you gabbed on for a while until a car arrived in the lobby of Gwen’s apartment building to take you to see Miguel.

Your feet felt like lead as you begrudgingly walked into the elevator and hit the button for the penthouse. A buzz rang through the wall of the elevator and a feminine voice answered. “Can I help you?”

“Lyla.” You spoke and there was a laugh.

“Yeah, I know! I just thought it’d be funny.” A ding sound indicated that she had let you bypass the security system for his apartment and the elevator moved. You leaned your head to the back of the elevator and sighed, closing your eyes. The exhaustion of the past few days had finally hit you like a ton of bricks, made your body want to bend over and curl into a ball. You wanted a nap.

The doors opened again and your eyes darted around in surprise. You’d known Miguel was rich and organized, but his apartment was something you saw in a magazine. Nothing could have prepared you for how his personal space might look.

He walked down a flight of stairs towards where you stood in the center of his living room, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. You wondered if this man only owned suits and sweats.

“You’re late.”

“Nice to see you, too.” You answered his blunt rudeness as he gestured for you to sit on his couch. “Ok, answers.” You stated and he rolled his eyes, grabbing two bottles of water and handing you one.

“Let’s start with the most important part. Your ex has been working with Kingpin, my biggest rival and one of the worst mobs in the city. He directly works with sex trades and child labor.” He sat next to you and leaned back into the soft cushions, as if he was just speaking about his day. You immediately hated this Kingpin guy. “We’ve found that your ex has been intertwined with Kingpin for a very long time, and even has some pull with Kingpin. His title among Kingpin is Venom, and he specializes in making people disappear.”

“Disappear?” You asked, as if you didn’t know the answer already, and Miguel brought his hands up to make air quotes, confirming your assumption.

“This is more of a newer specialty of his, in the last year. How long has it been since you two were living together?” You clear your throat, fear catching onto your tongue and making it feel heavy. “A-About a year. We were separated for a bit and I’d come home on and off, or he’d leave for long periods of time.” You touched your throat, imagining what he could have been doing while he was gone. “Was I- Did I marry a murderer?” Miguel just stared down towards the floor, expression unreadable and almost stoic except for the small crinkle between his eyebrows.

“You’re surrounded by murderers, technically.” He answered and your breath caught in your throat, but he continued, “Something you should remember is that everyone has the ability to be a killer, and many people use that ability, but few people use that ability for the good of the world.” He spoke softly and you nodded, a chill creeping up the back of your neck.

“Where do you fall?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and he leaned forward onto his elbows, bowing his head.

“I like to think everything I do is for the better of everyone, even if I go down in the process.” The gravel of his voice makes you feel warm and a flame sparks in your stomach, a new feeling. You scoot closer to him and continue to listen. “Those I train, or who work for me, they don’t just join for fame or notoriety. A lot of them were wronged by life, innocent until they were forced to learn how to see in the dark. That includes Gwen.” His eyes flash to you and it’s as if they turn you to stone, not being able to move on your own accord. “And that now includes you.”

“What if I don’t want to?” “Then you can turn around and try to survive blindly. You can pretend nothing ever happened, and hope that it doesn’t follow you around for the rest of your life.” He stares into your eyes harder, more serious, and you begin to wonder when he got so close. “But that hope doesn’t usually last long.”

Silence drips down the length of the walls as you two sit, inches from one another, smelling his breath and feeling the heat of his body so close to yours. As you're both about to collide, a loud ding sounds around the apartment and you jump backwards from the sudden interruption. Miguel barely even reacts, a deep frown on his features now as he turns to the elevator.

“Hey!” A friendly voice echoes off of the walls and footsteps follow as you turn to see Peter walking towards you both. He stops at the sight of Miguel’s angry face and flashes a look between the two of you. “Am I bothering you?”

“The answer is always yes, Peter.” Miguel stands and makes his way towards the other.

“Jeez, I was just here to pick up the tech and lists for the event, but if I’m such a bother-”

“Shut up and take it.” The larger of the two demands and you stand up, finally getting your bearings and coming to your senses. Your mind thought about Miguel saying those words to you in a very different scenario, but you quickly snapped out of it. He was your boss. Your whorish, annoying, rude boss with a taste for organized crime.

That’s going to be a hard no.

Standing up, you looked away and waited for him to be done. Peter’s eyes found your form and he launched over to you in a hurry. “How are you? It’s been so long, Miles says he misses you all the time, always making jokes you’d laugh at.” He rambles and you nod, smiling wide at the thought of being around Peter and Miles again. Miguel stands behind Peter, scowling at his distracted nature and folding his arms angrily.

“I miss you all too.” You concluded.

God, did you want to escape already.

Peter finally left after going on and on about his daughter for around 10 minutes, to which Miguel finally snapped and started yelling in spanish. You just stood there and watched the interaction as they bickered and Miguel forced Peter out. He sighed once the elevator doors closed and leaned on the wall for a moment. As he stood there, almost statuesque, you took in his size and it finally hit you. How large he is. You bit your lip and thought about the seconds before Peter walked in unannounced.

What would have happened if he didn’t break you two out of that seductive trance? Your cheeks began to heat up and you turned to look out the window.

“Are you prepared for the gala?” His voice broke you from your trance, and you nodded, not meeting his eyes as he spoke. This seemed to irritate him. “You picked a dress? I want to see it.” He announced, and you finally looked up, now giving him a dirty look. “I don’t trust your sense of style.”

“Too bad. Beggars can’t be choosers.” You hissed and he stalked to you in a few steps, showing his size from how few strides he had to take to walk across his wide apartment to meet you.

His head bent down to give you a dark look. “I never beg.” He stated as a fact and you felt a shiver move through your spine. Shaking your head, you still refused. “You’re making me go, I’m picking the dress.” This seemed to be a battle of wills and neither of you were breaking. “Is that all?” You asked and placed your hands on your hips, attitude obvious in the snark of your words. He clicked his tongue.

“That’s all, for now, but I might need to teach you manners soon if you keep this spoiled brat act up.” His words made your eyes go wide with anger.

“Spoiled brat?” You barked and he smirked, enjoying getting a rise out of you. “Now, get out. I have someone coming soon, since my morning release didn’t work out.” He turned his back to you once more, and you admired how broad his shoulders were, how his back muscles rippled and shifted. He exuded power, and you’d be damned if you let him get the best of you.

The words Gwen said echoed in your head. ‘Maybe he’s just lonely.’

“Maybe your morning release would be more satisfying if you didn’t get head at random times of day.” When he didn’t react, you continued, not fully understanding where this annoyance about his sex life was coming from anymore. “Maybe you’re just lonely.” The words came out before you could stop them and he finally turned back to face you, an incredulous look on his face from your audacity. “Either way, I don’t want to lay witness to whatever stupid married woman you convince to jerk you off with tweezers.” You stomped towards the elevator and pouted for a second before his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

“Hijo de su-” You could barely hear the rest of whatever he said as he yanked your body towards him. He glowered down at your shocked face as he picked up his phone and listened to it ring.

“Yo.” Lyla answered and Miguel stared down into your eyes. “Cancel the girl. There’s something I need to fix right now.”

Chapter 4

Tag list: @lady-necromancer @djarinluvr @itz-kiara @ashreblogsnow @enheduannasposts @misswonderfrojustice @onlysharkz @atrashpandaunderthestars @40-a-sad-bitch-04 @deputy-videogamer @loxbbg @not-aya @miguelsoneandonly @phd-in-simpology @neteyamsluvr111 @hayley1623 @oxrchd @kaqua @winteringfalls @ylnhmi @faithyourgirl @jospehquinnissexxy @foggyvoidtale @freeloverpeanut @sleepingwthemoonandstars @aawdrea @lex-dear @lareinamorgan @jkthinkstoomuch @skullslutt @rin0r1na @donovan-writes @miguelswifey04 @narmothewraith @december-dropout @teenzfrog-12 @somethingrad1 @spectr3inl0ve @woahhajime @chaoticbeanchild @swinginprunegothcop @yehsehneeah @siidmm @angel-xx-1 @ihateuguys @phd-in-simpology @blytheeboo @leonsgfs @berry-potchy @xxemmarldxx @cheerrioeoz @literallydontlook @definitelynother-871 @the-ashtronaut foundthem kiaraking viriexo mskye6522 ashleyk1001 xlustfulnightmaresx abeanthatcandothing fuzzy-beans azuresparky yumiko--cosplay distinguishedbananatastemaker jaydays-stuff sleepyyjaz gigglessoloud be-be-la-la sukjko

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #angst #atsv miguel #hail to the king #drefear writes

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accio-victuuri · 3 months

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XZ’s GQ February issue candies 🍬

now that we all had the time to appreciate the lovely photos and videos from that cover & collab — which is honestly a whole meal on it’s own, now is the time for some sweets. 🫶🏼 nothing too extravagant, a few similarities and clues we have connected only. i think the best candy still is the fact that it’s now confirmed that zz & wyb both have a good relationship with gq. even rocco going as far as choosing xz to start having simultaneous cover releases with other countries. sit tight and wait for all the toxic narratives to be proven wrong. don’t sweat it. the road ahead is long. let’s enjoy life and support the boys! 🫶🏼

One thing i noticed, and was actually surprised about was WYB posting an ad for Super X as early as 8:00 AM. Tho he may post at 8:05, which is rare, he usually does ad posts at 10:00. The 8:05 is mostly done by the brands. We have talked about them trying their best not have work overlap, this is a minor one, but as soon as GQ posted at 9:30 i feel like i know what’s happening. Then it didn’t stop till 12:00 nn. It doesn’t help cause i’m clowning that the short film feature for this cover was assigned Chapter 8. WYB posted at 8, the full short film is 8. What a nice coincidence!

Knowing WYB is not a stranger to doing short films with GQ and their love for movies! It wouldn’t really surprise me now if GG does a full feature about LOCH with them. These two really chose the same publication to do exclusive for their projects 😌😌

the similarity that i love is them in the bathroom and then looking at the mirror. tho wyb’s are scenes from HB, these stills were first seen @ GQ.

there is a story here 👀👀

it’s nice too how GQ used ZZ’s photos and put them in the frames. what a nice touch! since this is essentially his dream 💭

+ peter pan pop up art book on the bed too!

overall, there is really not that much we can clown about when it comes to photos alone. tho what gg is wearing has an interesting story as shared by @rainbowsky here. some may say it’s the stylist and magazine’s choice but we still love seeing the association. In addition, the clothes were inspired by Nicole Kidman’s clothes in a Chanel perfume ad. i love the unconventional wedding dress choice here, it fits them! <3

moving on to the biggest way we can cpn tho is the interview & cover story.

i especially liked the questions, it wasn’t cutesy. it asked what needed to be asked.

here are some of the similarities i found with them and their outlook in life and career. 🤍

First of all, being professional is an unavoidable topic. You can have a non-major background, but you must have excellent professional skills. This is what I want to do, this is who I am. I feel that I am not enough, and i’m too far behind.

I think (improving acting skills) is a cumulative process. You can’t make a big step forward with just one movie. This is difficult for me to happen. So you have to keep filming, but you have to keep filming good films and don't consume yourself.

It’s the intent to be a better actor and the self awareness of not having that “background” people expect them to have. However, they can compensate by being professional. by being the hardest working person in the room. Sometimes I feel like it’s okay for them to praise themselves and not always be this critical, but i guess that’s what make them the best too cause they have high standards for themselves.

At present, I want to be an actor who makes the audience like you. Maybe everyone is not your fan, or even not particularly interested in you, but you know that he has a drama, Do you want to watch it? His dramas are all good. I want to do this. This is my current goal. Is it possible to become the actor I like? This is a rule.

THIS. This!!!!!! I feel like they both have this outlook. They don’t need every single person to be their “fan” but the goal is to become known and liked by the general public. That people are familiar with them as good actors with excellent works. It’s why there is absolutely no need to beat yourself up on who is the better fan. It doesn’t keep the boys up at night. Lol.

There are many. For example, Zhou Xun has always been my favorite actor.

Zhou Xun! Who has worked with WYB in various projects, primarily with Chanel! I hope ZZ gets to work with her too.

I used to take the subway every day. for me there’s nothing I can't do. What do you think I can do? Say hello and leave. It’s just that I don’t want to cause confusion and trouble for everyone or cause a bad reaction.

The two of them have the same intention of not wanting to cause trouble to the people. That means making sure their fans do not cause unnecessary public issues like gathering in certain places.

Everyone has their own boundaries, and some people have no sense of propriety. I stay away from such people, but when the boundaries are broken again and again and the bottom line is touched, I will get very angry.

Chongqing pepper is here! lol. I see them being very patient and understanding cause they know what people expect of celebrities. But they won’t also take things lying down. They will fight if need be.

In principle, I am a very rigid person. If I insist on something and I think it is right, it will be difficult to be convinced. For example, if I want to be an actor, I don’t want to do anything other than being an actor.

I just want to do it well, just try my best right now. Maybe the result is not good, but what should I do? This is all I can do.

Sounds familiar? Especially the part that says I want to do it well? They have the same braincell 🙃

Now let’s look at the cover story. First, i wanna point out the comment of the interviewer about ZZ: “Before meeting, I thought Xiao Zhan would be very cautious about interviews. To my surprise, Xiao Zhan had a rare sense of relaxation, answered all questions, and even had some humor.”

Which is actually a common misconception about XZ or — you know what? he was kind cautious before but as time goes by, he became more relaxed and candid with his answers. It’s still insightful, but not as practiced. In the Q&A, he mentioned that there are things that cannot be said. Setting boundaries like that. Similarly, WYB is the same. We’ve heard stuff saying that he is in a more relaxed state now. I love that for them!

I still sneak out to ride a bicycle, take a walk, and do a CityWalk. Only once, just now in after walking in the alley for 5 minutes, I was recognized. I also sneaked into the cinema to watch a movie. No one will care about you, really. after leaving the Internet, many things will be solved easily. Sometimes the world is right in front of us.

This goes out to everyone that says how can they go out? How are the CPNs of them spending time together be true? Well this is the answer. Sneaked into a cinema to watch a movie? I hope they do that together too ^^

When he goes to different cities, Xiao Zhan will bring the same type of pillows and quilts. "I will bring everything that can help me sleep well." He has also tried aromatherapy lamps, lavender essential oil, and various other products that make him fall asleep when applied on his body.

This is such an easy cpn for us. Remember that time DLS clowned WYB about the aromatherapy candles? HAHAHAHAHAHA!

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #sorry this is so late i was so exhausted lol

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meshlasolus · 3 months

Text

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 4

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of bullying, Finnick being a warning again (for good reasons tho) Mentions of drowning, or fears of water. Mild mention of foreseeing death.

Chapter Summary: It's time to make allies. Being from a career district makes it a bit easier, at least it does if you don't say a word.

Word Count: 5.0k

Imagine being afraid of swimming pools lmaooo couldn't be me *internalizes my eight year old self's irrational fear of sharks in swimming pools*

“You climb a lot of ropes in four?” Rodey asked, but you shook your head, laughing it off. The group was impressed, or they seemed to be. The only odd one out was Estelle, still reeling from her failure to do what you had done. The others continued to take turns, the boys scaling the rope much quicker due to their upper body advantages. They still slowed eventually, but all of them hit the buzzer.

Four days left.

In those four days, you would need to learn to swim, get your stutter under control, and convince the capitol that you were worthy of the sponsors they so generously endowed the tributes with.

The day after the parade was slow. An introduction of sorts to the tribute center, and the other tributes. This is also very important, Finnick had said in the morning. A chance to make allies.

You weren’t sure who would actually take you as an ally, but from what he told you, the careers stick together.

“W-we aren’t careers,” you mumbled to Lukas when he brought it up to you in a whisper. You looked around, standing as tall as you possibly can, not giving anyone a reason to think you’re afraid of them.

“Finnick said it doesn’t matter. As long as we can show them what we bring to the table, they’ll take us.”

So, that means districts one and two. The tributes are a fine group this year, all four are volunteers, eighteen years of age and strong in body. The female tributes look far more lethal than even the boys do. They have an anger in their eyes that is not easily missed.

The two of you stop walking when you reach one of the outdoor preparation stations. You can build a fire, and you can pitch a temporary shelter… but there’s nothing wrong with refreshing your memory. So, while you sit, you look around to see what the others are doing, trying to gauge an impression of each of them. What is their physicality? How smart are they? Do they have other skills outside of wielding a weapon?

It seems that Finnick was right about the other careers, they mostly practice what they are already good at, mainly just to intimidate those they see as their prey. It’s a horrible thing, and yet, you can’t help but think it’s a good idea. The more tributes that would rather stay away from you, the better. Of course, you figure, the reasoning for always keeping the careers together is somewhat like that, too. Keep the other tributes out in the elements long enough to die off, then the careers have a better shot at winning. It’s a rigged system, but it gives you a chance.

“It looks like a fire to me,” Lukas said, his cheery smile of accomplishment drawing your eyes back from around the room. He blew on the wood a bit more, getting the embers to spark to life.

You playfully warmed yourself against it, acting as if you were shivering in the coldness of this warehouse-like setting.

“It f-feels like a fire t-to me,” you joked, standing up afterwards and giving him a hand up. You both quickly extinguished the flames on the ground, and started walking again. “Wish they had a l-lake, could’ve t-taught me how to fish.”

“Sorry, sweetheart… but it takes years to learn to fish as well as me.”

“I b-believe it.”

Coming up on another station surrounded by careers, you put on a fake smile, your shoulders back and your mouth closed shut to keep your confidence looming.

“The sea creatures decided to join us,” the male tribute from two said. He was seemingly laid back, his relaxed smile and light-hearted joke had made you feel as though he could be trusted as an ally. He didn’t seem to harbor a secret ill-will towards you both as tributes. He probably firmly believed in the careers as allies rule, however unspoken it was.

Lukas nodded, a small laugh escaping from both of you. “Didn’t wanna miss out on this party, it seems really interesting,” he replied, pointing up in front of him at the rope hanging from the ceiling, one of the female tributes trying her hardest to reach the top. None of the other female tributes had done so yet, but she was a career, and was very motivated.

“Well, it would be if Estelle would ever reach the top!” The female tribute from two responded this time, her chuckle filling her words as they were shouted towards the other female career.

“You’re just mad you didn’t make it up,” the male tribute said, nudging her in the arm. She gave him a playful look, and immediately, you understood they were close. Just like you and Lukas. He turned back to you both and offered a hand to shake for each of you. “I’m Copelin, this is Freeda, that’s Rodey, and up there is Estelle.”

“Nice,” Lukas reached out first to shake the other two’s hands, you followed after with a smile. “I’m Lukas, this is Mercedes.”

The group nodded back to you and looked back up to Estelle, but Rodey seemed stuck on you for a minute.

“I saw you at the parade,” he tilted his head, remembering just exactly what you were wearing. “You had that swimsuit on, right?”

You nodded again, an embarrassed laugh falling from your lips. Well, you thought, at least I made an impression.

“It was hot,” he winked, getting a small shove from Copelin as a result.

At that you ducked your head to hide the redness in your cheeks. He seemed like he might have been kidding, but maybe he wasn’t. You did, after all, have the most revealing outfit at the parade. It was bound to happen that comments like these would fly about. You weren’t so sure you minded it anymore.

Rodey was still staring at you when you looked back up. He was cute, nice and tall, with wispy blonde hair… He had pretty hazel eyes, too.

You hadn’t looked away from one another, completely ignoring the conversation happening amongst your new colleagues. They kept on, ranting about, until Estelle’s sudden drop to the ground interrupted. She’d let go maybe ten feet above ground, catching herself in a squat on her feet. She seemed angry, and the reasoning lied in the conversation you missed.

“Told you so,” Copelin shook his head, hands on his hips and a slanted look on his face.

Estelle turned to face the group with a fire in her eyes. “You know damn well that you’re the reason my hand still hurts.”

He whistled low, catching her death glare towards him with a smirk of his own. She rolled her eyes then fell in line with the group.

“Why don’t you go then, huh? Show us all how it’s done,” she went beside him and shoved, hearing the group chuckle a bit when she used enough force to make him stutter step over his own toes.

“Nuh uh, rules are still ladies first.”

“And we went,” she argued, her anger falling off a little and turning more into a salty annoyance.

“Got one more,” Rodey nodded over to you, and you hesitated, feeling all eyes now shifting to your form, staying still and trying to avoid confrontation by all means. You pointed to yourself and asked with only your eyes if they were meaning you, and of course they were… you were just stalling. Your hands did rather good with rope, having woven several nets, and carried several boxes in your career as a loader. Your calloused and worn hands were practically made for this sort of thing, however stupid it was. Maybe this could give you a leg up on some of the competition.

“You gonna go?” Freeda asked encouragingly, while Estelle stomped her foot impatiently on her other side.

You took a deep breath and started climbing, the bottom several feet being an easy obstacle to overtake. The shoes you wore made it a bit harder to grip the rope between your feet, but you replied mostly on your hands and arms, trying to have them carry you to the top. It was about the upper middle of the rope when the burning started to settle in, the redness of your palms spreading to the sides of your hands for you to see. Still, you didn’t give up, you just went slower, trying to ignore the calls from the ground. They were mostly just taunts from the boys, anyway. You were only a few feet from the top when you had to pause, taking deep breaths and trying not to let go of the rope entirely. You wrapped your legs around the rope, letting go with one hand at a time in order to give them a shake into the air.

“She’s not gonna make it,” Copelin mumbled, looking up at how close you were, but how much you were struggling. You had maybe five feet to go, but you were stuck.

“Wanna bet?” Lukas looked to the boy beside him with a smirk, fully knowing your capabilities, but maybe overestimating you, even just for the sake of it. He didn’t want anyone here to think that there was something you could not do. He was going to be your greatest ally in hiding your secret.

“Given that you know her better, not really.”

You sighed, realizing that if you didn’t at least try to make it past this point, you’d be a quitter. Who cares if you fall? You’re gonna die in a few days, anyway… might as well take a risk and speed up the process.

You reached up again, pulling with all your might, reaching one hand in front of the other and finally pushing with your feet to hit the small buzzer implanted to the ceiling. You clung back to the rope, starting to climb down, sliding most of the way due to the muscle exhaustion you just induced. When you hit the ground, they all seemed to be in agreement on something, but you couldn’t possibly know what it was.

The others continued to take turns, the boys scaling the rope much quicker due to their upper body advantages. They still slowed eventually, but all of them hit the buzzer.

You watched on, trying to listen in on what each of them said while doing so. You were completely oblivious to the holes that Estelle was burning into your head with her stare. She was the district one female. She was the pick of the litter. She volunteered, and had been hoisted to the favorites list as soon as she did… but then at the parade yesterday. You outshined her… and today, you proved you were stronger. You were better. You had a more likely chance to receive sponsors, and you were more likely to win over another female tribute. And given that the boy from her district had taken a liking to you, she doubted she could convince him to off you for her. And the boy from four… he looked like he’d do nearly anything to protect you. It wasn’t fair. She was supposed to be the top pick… but here you came. Not even volunteering, just having been reaped from the crowd. You’d never spoken a word to her, or anyone else in the group for that matter, and she already hated you more than anyone ever had. The worst part? You are technically a career district, so she has to pretend to like you. She has to ally with you and act like you don’t bother her to immense lengths. She has to make camp with you, share weapons with you, and kill others before getting to kill you. And that’s really all she’s thinking about right now. Killing you.

The sparring mats were constantly filled, because obviously, combat training was the most desired by the other districts. The ones who are not trained or prepared otherwise. They need it the most, want to learn it the most.

You found yourself there at the end of the day, waiting in line on the female tribute mat. Two others went at it, a girl from eight and a girl from eleven. They both seemed like they had an idea of what they were doing, but they both were equal in strength, and didn’t seem to be making any ground in any attack they faced. Finally, the girl from eleven had sneakily grabbed onto the ankle of the other while she was bent down, and pushed with all her might to take her down. She bashed her elbow into the side of her opponent, placing the strike and winning the match. The attendant of the mat awarded eleven the victory, and then it was your turn to step onto the mat.

It was a girl from seven, and you stood her down, trying to have the confidence from before flow through your veins. She looked strong, and her shoulders squared up, her hands raising in defense. You copied her movements, but didn’t attack first. She had expected you to, but you didn’t really know what you were doing. You’d not been trained for this.

After waiting long enough, she came at you, watching you back up, she was confused… you were a career, weren’t you? Why did you back away? She tried it again, and you stood your ground this time, but had been engaged. She wrapped her arms around your middle, trying to use her own weight to drag you down. You didn’t sink, but instead pushed back, your strength easily taking her over, especially since she wasn’t expecting it. You had her down, but you technically had to make a strike for it to count as a win. You raised a fist, aiming towards her chest, but then stopped. What were you doing? You’d never hurt someone like this before… You promised yourself you weren’t going to change, but here you were, the circumstances completely unnecessary, and you’re about to punch a girl that’s trapped beneath you. You haven’t even set foot in that arena and already you’re different from the nonviolent and innocent girl you were before you got on that train. You’ll be completely corrupted by the time the first canon goes off if you don’t stop yourself.

So you stop yourself.

You get up off of her, and help her up, not caring if a victory is awarded or not. This isn’t the games. And you’re not here to make enemies. She doesn’t say a word, she just nods to you and walks away. You do the same, running off to find Lukas and the rest of the careers. As it would happen, they weren’t far.

Surrounding the corner of the mat, they had been watching you, arms crossed as they listened to the words of Estelle. You can’t understand what it is, but she seems to not enjoy anyone’s company, and you don’t think she’s fond of you at all. You don’t blame her for being bitter, this whole thing is a cause to be bitter, but you wished she did a better job at hiding it like the rest of you. Besides, she’s district one, wasn’t she supposed to like these games? Wasn’t she supposed to be thriving in her element?

“Mercedes Blythe,” she scoffed, looking at the others and chuckling before turning back to you with a mocking expression. “More like Mercy Blythe.”

The others chuckled a bit, but only because they assumed it was a joke. They had all been in a joking mood, so to have anything break that was not predicted.

“No real harm done until the arena, I respect it,” Copelin said, reaching his fist towards you for you to bump yours against it. You did sheepishly, ducking your head as you stepped off the mat and into the group.

“She’s probably just hiding her secret skills,” Rodey nudged you, his smile a nice contrast from the sneer you’d received from Estelle. “Ain’t that right, Mercy?”

“She’s got more to her than meets the eye,” Lukas responded on your behalf, just like he’s done all day.

It’s common knowledge by now that you don’t like to speak, whatever the reason is, they don’t really dwell on it. They just ignore that fact and have a good time anyway. The careers seem to be the only ones enjoying themselves, as it were. They feel the most prepared, they sometimes forget they’re here to die.

Maybe that’s why they’re happier. They know that they have done everything in their own power to prepare themselves, so they won’t waste their last days sulking.

“I think it’s time to wrap up,” Freeda notices the attendants ushering tributes away from certain stations, letting the lines finish up before closing the facility. Since you all are standing around, you make your way to the exit, letting the woman with a tablet check you all out.

The careers go their separate ways, and you sigh in relief after turning down a hall.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said, even though he was probably more tired and worn than you were. You both had visited nearly every station you could, working on your strengths and weaknesses alike, in order to gain the upper hand. Finnick’s advice would pay off, but it would cost you both a sore muscle or two. “You did good.”

“Thanks,” you were happy that no one had found out about your stutter yet. You figured that was a step for another day of training. Maybe it would even be a good idea to hold off until it was absolutely necessary. Like the interviews. Those would be coming up soon. You didn’t even want to think about those. “A-and also, for helping m-me talk.”

He knew what you meant, Thank you, Lukas… for being my voice when I’m so scared to use my own.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Dinner was short, and neither Finnick nor Arbin bothered to show up. Mags signed an excuse to you, about them taking care of some things, but it was far too vague to be believable. You didn’t fuss about it, going upstairs after and looking to get ready for bed. They had set out a beautiful pair of silken pajamas for you on the bed, the fabric being an icy blue in color. It nearly matched the light color of the walls in your room.

You were about to change when came a knock on the door.

“C-come in.”

And when the door opened, Arbin let himself in, a sneaky smile on his face.

“Hello, dearest,” he waltzed in, holding something of a black fabric in his hands. “I bring good news. We may have found a solution to your swimming debacle.”

He held out to you a black one piece swimsuit and clapped his hands.

“As it turns out, it’s not against the rules for a mentor to privately book the pool area.”

You sighed. You were so tired. Perhaps this would have been a better idea tomorrow… but tomorrow is testing day. You suppose that tonight is as good a night as any to try and get into the water.

You gently took the material from him, thanking him under your breath before kicking off your shoes.

“Once you’ve changed, go into the west wing pool on the first floor. Finnick is waiting for you,” he finished his information ramble and bid you goodnight, giving a smile and a nod before leaving and closing your door.

You fell back onto your bed in exasperation before doing as he said.

It was colder at night, and the swimsuit made it more evident. You had your arms around yourself as you searched the first floor, careful not to make your way into the district one housing. You didn’t want to accidentally run into Estelle and have her cut off your head prematurely.

When you found the pool, you relaxed a bit, or at least you did until you turned the corner. Your steps slowed when you saw the water. The shallow end read four feet, and the deep end read twelve.

He’d already been in the water, doing laps as he waited for you to come down. The splashing and sloshing of the water imitated small waves, and it scared you. He wouldn’t let you drown, you know that, but you didn’t trust yourself to even step into the pool. It was too intimidating, and every memory came rushing back, trying to hold you from taking another step… but then he appeared at the edge of the pool, breaking you out of your trance. He leaned up on his elbows, holding himself on the concrete to look at you, scared as hell. His eyes were calming though, the sea green and the long wet lashes they peered through.

He shook his head to rid himself of some of the water, looking back to you and this time speaking.

“You coming in?”

You hadn’t dropped your arms from their place of security around your body. It was far too alarming to even be in a room with this much open water.

“I-I don’t want t-to.”

“Too bad,” he hoisted himself up and out of the pool, taking a step towards you, only for you to take two steps back. “Do you trust me?”

“I would s-say yes, but I t-think it’s a trap.”

He rolled his eyes, holding a hand out to you. You looked at him honestly, showing your distrust but also sheer anxiety. He still held it out, and would likely not drop it until you took it.

“I won’t let anything bad happen, I swear.” His eyes told the truth, and so did his words. He’s your mentor, he’s trying to help you.

“Okay,” you took his hand, letting him drag you closer to the water. He noticed you became unmoving when he dropped down onto the first pool step.

“We’re gonna take it slow, yeah? One step at a time.”

You nodded, letting out your inhaled breath and trying to let yourself relax. His job is to help you, he won’t hurt you.

Your hand shook within his as he pulled you to step onto the first level, and then the second, lastly, letting you stand on the third. The water was to your mid thigh, and it was cold. Not quite like the ocean, but cold enough to send chills all over your body. He let you stand there, getting accustomed to the feeling of the water before tugging gently at your hand again.

He tried pulling you off the last step, where the water would rise above your hips, but you snatched your hand away, unable to take the last leap without that horrid tightness in your throat and the threat of panic in your chest.

“Hey, look at me,” he took your hand back, not pulling yet, but just gaining your attention. “You wanna hear a joke?”

You understood right away that he was attempting to ease the tension you held, and you wanted more than anything to lose it, but even the thought of that was strange and foreign. You made up your mind. You’d agreed to this, and you had come down to the pool. You had to try and cooperate.

You nodded, keeping your eyes on him and trying to ignore the subtle pressure of the water that completely overtook your legs. Should they get swept from under you, you’re certain you’ll never touch water higher than that of a bathtub ever again.

“Why is the ocean so friendly?” He asked, momentarily unfocused as he sank you further into the water. You complied, stiff and anxious as the water got higher with the last step. You kept your breathing even, and avoided looking at the small sloshes against your body from the movement.

“Why?”

“Because it waves,” he chuckled. He genuinely thought it was funny, which was ultimately the thing you found amusing. You laughed too, feeling more relaxed by his help.

“That’s t-terrible,” you muttered, but he caught you in a giggle, so obviously he felt that your statement wasn’t true.

“If it was terrible you wouldn’t be laughing.”

“I’m laughing at y-you.”

“Sure you are.”

He didn’t mention the fact that you were now several inches deeper in the water, nor that he was slowly dragging you along until the water was around your shoulders.

“T-tell me another o-one.”

He nodded, trying to think his best and come up with something. He smiled with a ducked head before looking back up, smirking to you before he tried it out.

“Why is the beach so confident?”

“Why?”

He had to try not the laugh while delivering the punchline. He didn’t even find it that funny, but he was struggling to hold it together, just because of how stupid it sounded.

“Because it’s always one hundred percent shore.”

You had to fight to urge to roll your eyes. Who taught him these? He couldn’t have come up with them on his own, you refused to believe that… but they weren’t so bad, and you found it endearing that he was attempting to soothe your nerves about the water- The water!

You looked around you and realized how deep you’d gotten, arms flailing back in an attempt to pull you back to shallower waters. You almost lost control when you felt a hand at the small of your back, stopping you from getting away.

“Hey, hey,” He grabbed your arm with his other hand, rubbing small circles over it to try and calm your erratic breathing. You had tears coming back to your eyes, the fear of being held beneath this water at the front of your mind. It was all you could think about. All you could feel. The memory of your lungs burning made it even harder to breathe, but he grabbed under your chin, trying to make you reach his eyeline. “It’s okay, just breathe. You’re okay, don’t worry.”

You saw the sea green again, and it made the water seem less scary. The feeling of it around you was still evident, but more peaceful, less restraining. His eyes were the color of the waters back home, and those were much more harsh and dangerous than this. You took deeper breaths, slower and in time with him.

“That’s it, see?” He was unsure of how good of an idea this had been. Why was he doing all of this anyway?

Well, he reminds himself, if you want a victor, this is the special work that goes into it.

Except it’s not. Because, understand, he already has the perfect shot at a victor. Lukas is strong, smart, handsome, and good at making friends. He shows much promise, not only in his physical skill, but in his wit. People in the capitol could quite literally start betting on him if they wanted to, but Finnick can’t do that.

Of course, the question that begs to be asked is… why not?

Finnick is selfish. It’s why he promised himself a victor in the first place, knowing the cost it comes at. He’s competitive, and it stands to why he’s still alive, and not trapped in the memory of the sixty-fifth arena. Most of all, Finnick has chosen a favorite this year, regardless of skill or wit, and it isn’t Lukas.

You’re an excellent tribute, too. He knows it. He sees the strength and intelligence. He sees the hesitant will of someone who understands what they are fighting for. Not fighting to win, not fighting for the attention and glory, but fighting to live.

If only he can fix this one problem, maybe the other will sort itself out. You’re quite charming, and rather sweet. He deems it very possibly that the stutter may go unspoken about as long as the cards are played right.

“That’s good, you’ve got it.”

The more steps you took forward, the closer you were to being submerged, but he wasn’t going to let you sink. His hand still on your back had stayed in the same spot, just for safety and for comfort. Your hands grabbed at his forearms now, taking steps of your own without his lead, until you were as low as you could get without swimming.

“I c-can’t swim yet,” you told him, and he nodded, already proud of how much progress had been made, considering Lukas told him you hadn’t gone above two inches of water in years.

“That’s alright.” He shook his head, completely silencing any doubts you had. He was helping you, not forcing you. He did have an idea, though. “You wanna go for a ride?”

Your face screwed up in confusion, until he turned his back to you, bending his knees to get lower. You thought it childish at first, but didn’t hesitate after that. What could possibly be considered childish anymore? Anything fun from this point forward would be just that. Fun, that distracted from the reason you were here, from the reason you even stood in this water.

Climbing onto his back, hooking your arms over his shoulders, you felt calm, but happy. He swam forward, taking you into deeper water, but you never sank beneath the surface. Your laugh echoed in his ears every time his head was above the water, and he enjoyed the sound. It was pleasant, and so were you.

He couldn’t remember the last time he actually bonded with a tribute. Not as just a mentor, but as a friend. He was young, but sometimes forgot it was okay to still make friends. In this line of work, people come and go. He hopes he can keep his promise to himself, and he prays that it will be in the way he wants.

“My own p-personal seahorse,” you exclaimed, enjoying the slight splashes of mist around your arms every time he paddled further.

“Is that all I am, now?” He said in a mockingly sad tone, setting you down once the waters were shallow enough to stand in comfortably. “Could’ve sworn I was a famous victor.”

“That was y-years ago, t-times are changing.”

“How sad. I guess you’re gonna be the next big thing then, huh?”

“Guess-so.”

And now he wants more than anything for it to not be a joke.

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn

#finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair #thg finnick #sam claflin x reader #sam claflin #thg #the hunger games

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roarriita · 1 year

Text

roommates - ellie williams (6)

femreader!xelliewilliams!

part five, here

content warning: explicit language, mention of drugs, sexual thoughts & acts, potential parental issues

// authors note: there is a small singing portion. yes, bbg ellie is singing and if you're the kind of person that likes to get completely immersed into the fanfic you're reading, i suggest listening to this cover while reading the singing portion of this chapter. i know i loved listening to it as i wrote it (you don't have to tho!) but anyway i hope you guys enjoy and are having an amazing day/night!! link to cover. //

// initial summary: the day after you officially moved into your new college dorm, you decide to take a look around the school, getting familiar to the clubs that they have to offer as well as the libraries, classes and cafeteria. you come back to your dorm in hopes of taking a shower and sitting in quiet solitude, but your plans are disrupted by your new roommate moving in… ellie williams. //

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it's been four weeks. four whole weeks since you last felt ellie's lips on yours. the tension between you two felt like a heat wave. you could barely think, your skin burned, and the air became all too difficult to breathe. you weren't sure how exactly you made it this far without giving in.

your eyes followed along with your book as you sat under the big oak tree on campus. despite it almost being october, it was warm out today. you decided to take advantage of the nice weather and read outside. not being able to really process the words that you were reading, you set the book aside and sighed. you looked up at the clouds, trying to figure out what different shapes the masses created.

strawberry… pencil… heart… and a man holding a little girls hand. you shut your eyes and cursed at your brain to stop playing tricks with you. you opened your eyes and analyzed the clouds again.

lollipop… cat… trumpet and two faces screaming at each other. with a frustrated sigh, you looked back down at your book and left your post at the tree.

back in your dorm, ellie sat on her bed, sketching. whenever ellie had free time, that's what you'd see her doing, either that or playing the guitar. although, she never let you see more than the occasional quick sketch, she always let you hear her playing the guitar and even let you put in requests. finishing up on her drawing, she held it up to blow away the led residue.

just then, her phone began to ring.

after checking the caller id, the corners of her lips slightly raised. ellie immediately answered it. "dad, hey."

"hey, dino." joel spoke. "i was calling to to thank you for the birthday gift."

"when are you going to stop calling me that." ellie groaned.

"does never sound good to you?" joel sarcastically responded.

"ugh, whatever. just know, you’re one more birthday away from being put in diapers." ellie sassed.

joel laughed. "is that a threat, dino?"

"think of it as a promise, old man." ellie joked. the daughter and father duo laughed before returning to their conversation.

"but seriously, i love the power drill set." joel said. "i've been getting the jobs done ten times as faster with this thing."

ellie smiled but bit her lip when she was reminded of the fact that her dad was still working, day and night in order to send her to school. ever since joel took 8-year-old ellie in, she couldn't help but feel like a burden to the man. he was just too good to her. "well, i'm glad to hear that."

"if you don't mind me asking, where'd you get the money for it? this isn't one of those cheap 20 dollar sets you get from walmart, these are high quality, meaning it would've had to cost you at least a hundred or so bucks." joel questioned.

"don't worry about it." ellie replied.

"dino, don't tell me you got a part time job." joel sighed into the phone. "what did i tell you? i wanted you to focus on your schoolwork and if you needed money that i'd send you some."

"dad, please, i don't want a lecture right now." ellie said. "i like working, okay? it's a nice break from school, i swear to you, it's not getting in the way of school."

"but-"

ellie cut him off. "dad, please."

"alright..." the man sighed. "at least promise me that you'll leave as soon as it starts getting in the way of your education?"

"i promise, dad." ellie assured him. some muffled hollering paired with the sound of an excavator, interrupted their conversation.

"i'll be right there!" joel shouted away from his phone before turning back to his blackberry. "i gotta go. have a good day and don't stress yourself out too much."

"okay, dad."

"love you, dino."

"love you too, dad, bye."

"bye."

once the phone call ended, ellie got up from her bed and walked over to her desk. she took one more look at her latest sketch and smiled. once she heard the door open, she shut her sketchbook and placed it inside the bottom drawer of the desk. "hey, el." you almost muttered before dropping your bag on top of your dresser.

"hey, (y/n)." ellie responded, when she noticed how sad you looked, she crossed her arms. "is everything alright?"

you turned around, leaning your back into the dresser. you tried lying and saying you were fine but you just couldn't find the energy to do so. "no, i’m not."

"do you wanna tell me what's wrong?" ellie took a step closer to you. she rarely ever saw you like this. you were so good at masking your anger and sadness. last week, ellie literally saw you smile through the pain of receiving a horrible grade for a test that you studied your ass off for.

"no." you shook your head. if there was one thing that you and ellie had in common, was that of feeling like a burden.

"right..." ellie said. "is there anything i can do to make you feel better?"

you thought about it for a second. your eyes trailed around the room and a small smile formed on your lips when you saw her guitar. you walked over to her side of the room, grabbed the instrument and then held it out to her. "born to die by lana del rey." ellie took the guitar from you with a matching smile. "did you actually learn it?"

"maybe." ellie shrugged. "you'll have to be the judge of that." ellie didn't want to admit it but every time you requested a song that she didn't know, she'd spend hours trying to learn it. she just loved the way your face lit up at the sound of her fingers strumming the guitar to your favorite songs.

ellie took a seat on her desk chair as you did the same on your own. she propped up the instrument and readied her hands and fingers. after a quiet and barely audible countdown left ellie's lips, she began playing.

once she started, you felt the knot of anxiety that had formed at the pit of your stomach earlier, slowly come undone. you noticed she played the first few cords a couple of times, almost like she was preparing herself for something. without warning, ellie began singing. "feet don't fail me now, take me to the finish line. oh, my heart, it breaks every step that i take, but i'm hoping at the gates, they'll tell me that you're mine." by now, the knot had completely come undone. her voice sounded so pretty and blissful. you've never heard a voice as gentle and beautiful as hers.

"walking through the city streets, is it by mistake or design? i feel so alone on a friday night. can you make it feel like home, if i tell you you're mine? it's like I told you, honey,"

ellie stared down at her fingers strumming the guitar, she was too nervous to see your reaction. she continued to sing, feeling every strum, every melody and every lyric. "don't make me sad, don't make me cry, sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough, i don't know why. keep making me laugh, let's go get high. the road is long, we carry on, try to have fun in the meantime."

you were too captivated by her voice to filter yourself as your eyes watered up. "come and take a walk on the wild side. let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain. you like your girls insane. so, choose your last words, this is the last time, 'cause you and i, we were born to die."

ellie played a few more chords before coming to a stop. her cheeks were flushed as she placed her guitar down. she grabbed her thighs and looked up at you, ready to take whatever negative criticism you had to throw at her. "holy shit, ellie." a few tears escaped from your (y/c/e) eyes.

"please tell me you liked it." ellie almost begged.

"liked it?" you questioned. "ellie, i'm fucking crying. i loved it!" you then got out of your seat to pull her in for a hug. you wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her head close, up against your stomach. with a smile of content and relief, ellie tightly wrapped her arms around your lower waist.

ellie slowly got out of her seat to hug you properly. she took in the milliseconds that passed as she held you in her arms. she missed this, she ached for this. she wants so desperately to never let you go. here, in this position, it was perfect. it was enough for her. it was more than enough and though she was the one who ended things, she wished that this was enough for you too. even if it was just for now.

she needed you to wait for her.

✩───────────✩──────────✩

"i don't get it, why am i blindfolded." you asked as ellie's car came to a stop.

"because it's a surprise." ellie answered. "you can take off your seatbelt now."

once you took it off, ellie got out of the car and jogged around to your side. she opened the door, helped you out and then led you to wherever it was she wanted to take you. you held on tightly to her hands, not wanting to trip or fall. as you inched closer, you could hear the sounds of laughter, games and loud swooshing noises. "okay, stop." ellie stood behind you and carefully removed the blindfold.

your face lit up when you realized where ellie had taken you and why she asked you to wear shorts or pants instead of your usual dress. "the carnival."

"surprise." ellie smiled.

"you didn't have to do this ellie." you looked over at her. this was probably the nicest thing anyone's ever done for you.

"but i wanted to." ellie shrugged. she'd do anything to see you get your smile back.

"but my bag, you told me to leave my bag at home." your eyebrows furrowed.

"yeah, 'cause today is on me." ellie said.

"oh, c'mon." you protested. "i can't let you do that."

"too bad, we're already here." ellie shrugged as she grabbed one of your hands and began pulling you towards the entrance. "and i'm not leaving until we go on every single ride and try every deep-fried food this place has to offer."

"fine, but if i puke on you, don't blame me." the two of you laughed as you walked inside.

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part seven, here

#ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #tlou #college ellie!#fluff #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem!reamder #elliexreader #tlou2 #ellie sings to you

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hugheswritetr · 3 months

Text

Unforgettable

MASTERLIST

Heartbeat | Jack Hughes

Author’s note: my fav chapter so far;)

Song: Unforgettable- French Montana

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Thalia’s POV

The sun is shining, birds are chirping, and i finally found the comfortable position to tan.

I haven’t got much time to tan during this summer, always running around, spending time with family or Luke.

I try to fill my free time with them as much as possible, knowing that once the summer ends, I am returning to Switzerland for my last year of boarding school.

But back to my tanning, If you didn’t notice, I am really enjoying the time for myself.

I just wish the process was faster, because I want the tan lines right now . Oh how I love being a girl.

My mom is cooking lunch with Ellen, so the Hughes family is over. Luke finally returned from his tournament, and it couldn’t be more perfect. The only two people who can’t share my enthusiasm are Quinn and Mattheo.

They are groaning few feet from me, laying on the outdoor sofa with ice packs on their heads. Thats what underage drinking does to you, my friend.

I can faintly hear Luke and Jack shouting at eachother as they play football, the ball nearly hit me a few times, but because of how good I feel right now, I can’t imagine myself caring.

After my mini breakdown I endured yesterday, today is a perfect calming day. My nerves settled down a bit after the talk with Jack, and I feel lighter.

Sure, I still have some anxiety left but I know I have a lot of time to figure it out. Nobody has it figured out at the age I am at, and I know that by then I will be calm and collected.

I hope.

My train of thoughts is stopped when I suddenly do not feel the sun on my face. I open my eyes and see Jack standing over me. I would start cussing him out, but today is a great day, so I choose not to.

But the words he says take me by surprise.

“Scoot over” he instructs me, and I free some space for him on the towel. “What do you want, Jack?” I suspiciously ask.

“Just want to spend some time with my friend, is that a crime ?” he chuckles. I look at him, and see no sarcasm in his eyes. He settles down beside me, the skin contact making me shiver. Why is he wearing no shirt? Thank god he isn’t tho, at least I have something to look at.

I stare, no shame in that. The hard ridges of his abs on the tanned skin are making it impossible not to. “Take a picture, it will last longer”he says, noticing my stare. Okay, I feel shame now, but I do not regret it, the sight was pleasant, not going to lie. So sue a girl for looking.

I am sure I look like an apple right now, and the embarrassment surges through me. “ I wasn’t looking” I say, trying to save at least a bit of dignity I have left.

“Please, Lils, let’s stop lying to ourselves “ he laughs and I scoff at the cocky asshole. He knows what he is doing.

We once again settle into comfortable silence, just sitting beside eachother.

He is one of the few people I actually enjoy spending time with in silence, just soaking up him and his energy.

“So tell me about the girlfriend” I suddenly ask, circling back to the words he said to me at the draft, even though a long time passed since that, it’s still on my mind.

It pains me, but I know that Jack Hughes will always be here for me to admire, not to have. I just hope he finds someone who understands his soul and his body, the way he deserves to be understood.

“Avery? What about her?” he confusedly replies, waiting for me to clarify. “You told me about her at the draft” I recall.

“Oh, yeah, sorry I forgot” he apologises, but continues “She’s great, we have been together since my birthday, so I think we’re doing good” the smile on his face when he is talking about her making my heart break more and more.

“I’m happy for you Jack, you deserve all the best” when I turn to look at him, he’s already looking at me, smiling. “Thank you Lils” he softly smiles and throws his arm around me.

I’m grateful that there are no powers that allow others to read my mind, because all I can think about is wanting him to speak about me. I know it’s dumb, but the charm of Jack Hughes has still not left me. I don’t even think it will leave , ever.

I think about Avery, already feeling the distaste for her, but deep down I know it’s just jealousy. Jealousy about her having him, and not me. She may be a great girl, but I can’t help myself.

That is something I will have to get used to by having Jack in my life, I mean, how can you NOT fall for him? I don’t think that is possible. And if it is, I need a tutorial right now.

There is no possibility that anyone who hears his voice, sees his smile, and gets to know his character will not feel love for him. And once again, if you don’t, please pull me out of this misery and tell me how.

I still remember the first summer living in Michigan, the first time I met him. The second I saw those ocean eyes, I knew I was goner.

The second I felt my hands on his skin, making them tingle, I knew he would be forever imprinted on my mind.

The second his signature toothy smile made appearance on his face, I knew I would do everything possible to be cause of it.

He stole my heart, and I don’t think I will get it back. I also think i’m fine with that, part of my heart being a small price to pay for his presence in my life.

I notice Luke walking up to us, he left to check on the dinner, the teenage boy appetite making him already hungry. I like to tease him about it, but that’s another thing im jealous of, non stop eating and not gaining a pound. If I even breathed the amount he eats, I would be ten pounds heavier.

Okay, I’m lying, I eat the same amount, especially when I’m having mental breakdown about the latest show I’m obsessing over.

Luke plops down next to us “What are you talking about?” curisously asking. “My girlfriend” Luke scoffs, I look strangely at him, and he rolls his eyes. I’m definitely going to ask him questions.

Jack notices his reaction, and scoffs too “I don’t get why you don’t like her, she’s been nothing but nice to you” he says, defending her, making the ache in my chest present again.

“Yeah, sure” Luke answers him, not wanting to talk about her for minute more. Okay, now I’m definitely curious.

I shift the conversation, not wanting to feel the uncomfortable silence longer “Luke, do you want to play volleyball?” I say, actually hoping to press him for details, but I forget that Jacks needs to be centre for everything.

“ No invite for me?” he frowns. Luke and me answer at the same time “No”, “Sure, but I want Luke on my team” . The answer I give him making him gain attitude “I’m much better player than Luke”

I answer him with laugh as I leave to get the ball “Sure Jack, hope you enjoy living in delusions”. Let me tell you a secret, he is better player than Luke, but I love annoying him.

He shouts after me, but I just laugh.

I stay in the supply room a little longer, needing to cool down my blushing cheeks, but the cause of my blushing problem once again appears.

“Having trouble finding the ball?” he asks, stepping into the room with me. “Not at all” I turn around about to reach for it, but he decides to do the same, and closes the proximity between us by pressing his front into my back.

I instantly pull away, the blush I originally had, and I don’t even know how it’s possible, worsening even more.

Why am I still blushing? Seriously, my face needs to get it together. Man up, we can’t embarrass ourselves more, I internally speak to myself and my face.

Yeah, I know these are the signs of starting insanity, but we are going to ignore it for now.

Jack coughs beside me, making me pull myself from my thoughts. “Went to Wonderland?” he teasingly asks.

I dismiss him with a shake of the head and leave the room.

When I return to Luke, he suspiciously looks at me, and then at Jack trailing behind me.

,,What took you two so long?” he asks, suspicion evident in his voice.

,,Nothing, let’s play” I say, hoping to stop his thoughts from wandering too much.

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I always considered myself great at volleyball, but how embarrasingly we are losing right now to Jack is almost making me rethink that statement.

But I’m not a quitter, and Luke isn’t one either, and we know that we are going to win this.

Because if not, this is going to get embarrassing real fast. But it won’t, because I wouldn’t let Jack’s ego rise more. Someone needs to seriously humble that man, and that someone is going to be me.

That is one of the main reasons I’m sweating like a pig right now, because there is no chance he is going to win, and if he is, it’s going to be over my dead body.

I don’t know what was I thinking wanting to play volleyball with two hockey players, because their stamina is much better than mine, hell, they didn’t even break a sweat yet.

I’m aware of how unattractive I look right now, but I don’t even care, the sole goal is to win the game and then shower.

“Wishing you chose me, huh Lils?” Jack chirps from the other side in a true hockey boy nature.

“Not at all” I answer him, one thing I’m not going to admit is me being wrong. My competitivness matches Jack’s own one and I think if volleyball scouts were here, they would choose us on the spot.

My poor Luke is in the middle of our ego match, I feel bad about screaming at him about every mistake he makes, but I will not lose to Jack. Luke will get his apology later.

The only boy matching my screams is the one infront of me, screaming obscenities at the poor ball whenever something doesn’t go his way.

I think today the universe is on my side, because when I do the winning move, my ego rises a few feet.

“Ha!” I laugh at Jack sitting defeatedly on his knees, between catching my breaths.

Luke does not even stay to clap me on my back, I’m sure he is going to Ellen for her to comfort him about how we were yelling at him. He’s SUCH a mamas boy (don’t tell him I said that).

Suddenly there’s a hand stretched infront of me, Jack’s hand to be particular. I don’t take it, smirking as I stand up even though I have about two cramps in each leg, but he doesn’t know that.

I’m certainly not going to shorten my ego even by millimetre, duh.

He laughs at me, then he hughs me.

“Congrats on winning, not sure you would win without Luke, but I’m going to let it slide” he says, that asshole. He knows damn well that I carried the team.

I don’t even answer him, my heart set on the shower I’m going to take.

What I don’t know is that by the time I was collecting things in my room for the shower. He beat me to it. In my own house.

But I’m not going to be mad, he deserves at least one win today. I laugh at my thoughts. I always knew I was funny.

If someone finds out what’s up with men and their long showers, let me know. I’m pounding on the door of the bathroom, because I honestly can’t wait no more.

I don’t even get my second pound in at the door, and hes opening them.

Once again, he knows what he is doing. Because he is standing there in all of his bare-chested glory.

Suddenly, my mind is a bottomless pit and my mouth stopped functioning, because I can’t even form and speak one word.

”Cat got your tongue?” he knowingly asks, getting second ego victory that day, dork.

I spare one last look at his chest, of course I’m not going to leave without looking. When he already catched me, I don’t have to hide it.

I push past him for the second time that day. Why does this keep happening to me? Entering the bathroom, I release a sigh.

But when I notice the familiar scent of the bathroom, I know that he used my bodywash, making a smile appear on my face.

He is going to be falling asleep with my scent today. I hope he enjoys thinking about me.

I know I called him delusional today, but I’m starting to think I should have been reflecting that one on myself.

Shutting down my thoughts, I step into the shower, the warm water calming my aching muscles.

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When I step out of shower and I notice the tan I gained, I smile from joy because that was the original plan for today.

The cooling lotion on my skin feels great, and I almost fall asleep from the relaxing effect it has.

Until I smell the scent of the food from downstairs, my stomach now agressively grumbling.

I put on some sundress I fish out from my closet, not even caring what I put on, I just want to fill the void in my stomach.

I braid my drying hair, not wanting to have a side of them with my meal. Men have it so easy with their short hair.

As I sit beside my now hungover-free brother, who is finally not complaining anymore, I notice the happiness radiating from the people around the table, making me smile.

The food is great ( shotout to my mom and Ellen ). Everyone is laughing and I’m winning again, beating Jack once again in our private kicking tournament under the table.

I laugh at him and stick my tongue out, making him smile. At least he is not a sore loser, because that would be sad for him.

He takes all these losses like champ and I think I found my new hobby, winning.

Everything is perfect right now.

#jack hughes #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes #new jersey devils #nhl #hockey fic #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fanfiction #nj devils #jack hughes x oc

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killerpancakeburger · 17 days

Note

Hi! I got your ask and I'll answer it soon <3 in the meantime, I was curious about

Ka-freaking-boom, baby | Pinning (against a wall) | Renegades

👀👀

The titles/descriptions are a net, and I am but a fish you caught with it

majinbangus 🥛🐟

Hiii! Tysm for the ask! 💕

For the WIP ask game.

Alright, here we gooo *rubbing hands with glee*

Ka-freaking-boom, baby

That line by Soap drove me insane, so I came up with a Reader feeling the same way lol. It's very short so I'll post it entirely here:

“Ka-freaking-boom, baby.”

The perfect mix of rasp and silk in his voice seemed to drain all the blood from your brain and send it rushing south. It was almost worse than having his fingers stroking every inch of your skin.

Before Soap had any chance to react, you dragged him away into the nearest dark alley and kissed him furiously.

A confused moan escaped him under your assault.

Once you’ve had your fill, you withdrew, glaring at him. He was panting, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, torn between bafflement and pleasure, and, a rare occurrence, at a loss for words.

“Fuck, what the fuck… was that!?” you yelled in a whisper. “Do I have to be a freaking bomb for you to talk to me like that!?”

His eyes widened even more before understanding spread across his face. A chuckle left his lips.

“Jealous o’ an explosive, hen? Yer too cute.”

Not in the mood to play around, you grabbed his flak jacket to pull him where you wanted and, lips pressed against his ear, you described all the unspeakable acts you would do to him if he used that voice back at the base.

He let out an agonized sound at that, as if you were torturing him.

“Steamin' Jesus…”

He covered the hand that was holding him in place and took a deep inhale, most likely to keep it together.

“Bonnie, love ye, but the mission…”

You aggressively shoved your index in his sternum, looking him in the eye.

“You're making it up to me later, you hear me?”

His head was swaying with the contrast between your filthy promises and your harsh gestures, but he straightened up, recognizing an order when he heard one.

“Yes Ma'am.”

Pining (against a wall)

I read a fic where in one chapter, Soap and Reader hide from enemies with Reader stuck between the wall and Soap, and our beloved sergeant gets...hum... affected by their proximity lol. So I wanted to do a version where Soap is the one pinned between Reader and the wall. It's also the same vibe as The powder and the fuse, aka Soap sees his gf in action being very badass and finds it hot. It's smut tbh, with their clothes on tho.

WIP:

"At the sight of your enemies getting closer to your location, your bodyguard training takes over. Before you can even think about it, you grab Soap by his flak jacket, drag him into a dark alley and end up half-pining, half-slamming him against the nearest wall without warning, shoving your hand over his mouth for good measure. It's a professional reflex you'll have to apologize for later.

That, and if there's one thing he's never been good at, it's keeping it shut.

Not that he ever gave you a reason to call his skills into question, always proving himself serious and reliable on the job, but missions with only the two of you together are few and far between, and he certainly never stops running his mouth over comms during them.

Wholly focused on your opponents’ behavior, head turned away from him, on the lookout, the hand on his mouth keeping him against the wall, the other by his head, caging him in, you don't pay attention to your newfound proximity. How your faces are barely a centimeter away from each other, how his warm breath strokes your skin with each respiration. You don't notice either how much you’re pressed against his body, how your chests are touching, the contact exacerbated by each inhale, or that one of your legs is nudged between his.

Or the way his cerulean eyes are devouring you, drinking in your every move."

Renegades

It's a retelling of MW2 with Shadow!Reader, from the mission Alone until Graves die. Lots of action.

Reader kills her own coworkers when they go after civilians and deserts the Shadow company. She comes to the rescue of an injured Soap in the hopes that she can ally with the TF to take down Graves.

It's called renegadeS because It's not only about Reader's treason, but also because the TF is considered treators thanks to Shepherd, and that Reader consider that Graves betrayed her for sending her after civilians when she stated from the start she wouldn’t go after unarmed ppl/civilians.

Something about having to betray either your community/organization/group, or your own moral code, but doomed to be a traitor all the same…

WIP:

"Joining the Shadow Company had never been your first choice. Military organizations tended to be bad news, and private ones were even worse. However fate forced your hand. Or, more exactly, capitalism did.

The pay offered by the Private Military Company exceeded your wildest dreams. You've made more in a week than in one year of your regular job as a bodyguard. And you were in desperate need of money; a lot, and fast; it was the only way to afford your sister's cancer treatment.

Things weren't so bad at the start. The commander was a bigmouth, but he was sensible, and he got the job done. At some point, the corporation allied with a special task force, an international group of elite combatants, some sort of legendary military unit. You hadn't paid them much attention, since they weren't the enemy.

Until they were.

Somehow the General that commanded both those guys and the Shadow Company decided to betray his own men, turning them into traitors. At the same time, your orders brutally changed. You were expected to turn the whole town upside down to pinpoint the ex-Special Forces, and if civilians happened to be in the way, well… there was no one to hold you responsible if you put a bullet in them.

You didn’t care about the Task Force. Sucked to be them, but surely they could handle themselves.

However, the moment your coworkers started to execute unarmed civilians right in front of you, you snapped.

The latters’ screams for mercy still resonate in your ears. The racket caused by the bullets you sent through your former companions in arms hadn't been enough to make you forget their bloodcurdling yells.

You hadn't even had time to ponder your actions. Your body acted on its own. You slaughtered them without batting an eye. They probably didn’t even understand what happened to them, not expecting your betrayal. You didn’t regret it.

You hid the bodies to the best of your abilities, and slipped away.

Now here you are, lost in Las Almas, a small city in Mexico, operating in the blind. Between the dark of the night and the rain, your vision is execrable. You have little time before your ex-colleagues’ death and your disappearance get noticed. The clock is ticking, and you can see only two options presenting themselves to you: fight or flight.

You eventually stumble upon a squad of Shadows. You've been monitoring the comms, and your treason hasn’t been noticed yet.

So, in a rush of insane hope, you do the unthinkable and reveal yourself to them.

Maybe, just maybe, not all Shadows are bloodthirsty mercenaries who shoot innocents at the first opportunity. Maybe they can be reasoned with. Maybe you don't need to fight alone. Maybe…

You salute them as you approach, acting with as much natural as you can muster.

One throws one look at you and turns away. The other two stare with curiosity.

“Whattya doing here? This isn’t your area.”

You play dumb. Easy to perform when your interlocutor is already looking down on you. The only perk of being a woman in this field of work is idiots underestimating you.

“Lost my way. The others left me behind. Mind if I join?”

You make your tone as silly and harmless as possible, turning your voice higher pitched than normal. It works like a charm.

You put up with their mockeries that sound a lot like insults and other jeers, keeping a naive smile on your lips.

Following on their heels, it's easy to fall back into the routine that's been yours for the past few weeks, since you became a shadow. But that illusion of normality shatters the moment you come across inhabitants.

“They don't know shit,” grumbles one of the shadows, after barking orders at the civilians only leads to desperate pleas for mercy in spanish. “Might as well get rid of them.”

You stare at him with incredulity, your bewildered expression hidden by your balaclava. How could someone be so callous with human life was beyond you. Yes, you were killers for hire, but between fighting seasoned soldiers on a battlefield and slaughtering unarmed families in their own home, there was a world of difference.

“Sure,” shruggs another.

The third one doesn't even bother answering, already taking aim with his rifle.

You feel trapped in a horror movie, an alternative reality.

“That's not necessary,” you step in, loud enough to be clearly heard, but still attempting to not sound too authoritarian. “Killing them isn’t gonna give us any answer.”

“Who cares?” snarls the first one at you, irritated by your intervention. “We get a bonus for each target, it's all that matters.”

“But they're not targets,” you hiss, getting riled up despite yourself. “Is that what your morals are worth? A bunch of zeroes?”

“For the love of… knew admitting women was a bad idea. You’re too soft-hearted for this job. So either shut the fuck up, or-”

He never gets the chance to finish his sentence, as the bullet you fire lodges itself between his eyebrows.

As the other two squad members let out expletives in shock, you’re already shooting again. The one who was aiming his rifle at the denizens drops dead just as he gets you into his sights. The last one scrapes your side with his handgun before you make him join his teammates.

Panting, you lower your weapon and kick at one of the corpses in rage.

“Fuck! Why did you have to be such a rotten piece of shit!”

From the corner of your eye, you notice the group of civilians nearby shaking with fear, glancing at you with horror and uncomprehension. You sigh and tell them to leave, unable to look them in the eye, ashamed.

Once left to your own devices, you let your fury and your frustration explode.

“Shit, shit, shit! Never should have taken this fucking job!”

Overwhelmed, you crouch, covering your face with your hands, and swear some more.

“Why'd ye do that?”

The hoarse, foreign, barely audible voice coming out of nowhere makes you jump. You point your handgun in multiple directions, in vain.

“What the…?”

You cautiously inspect your surrondings, on your guard, ready to open fire at the first sight of an enemy. Eventually you find the owner of the voice, inside a nearby building, slumped against a crumbled brick wall, and immediately take aim at him.

“Hey there.”

The salute may be casual, but his body language shows nothing but extreme vigilance and sharp suspicion, his own handgun pointed at you. The tone of his voice isn’t exactly warm either.

At the first provokation, he will swiftly end your life without any qualms.

Your eyes roam over him and, as you take in his bare face, the soaking wet blue t-shirt adhering to his skin, and jeans, you realize you're not dealing with one of Graves’ guys. The british flag displayed on his bulletproof vest silently answers your interrogations.

“You're one of those brits,” you sigh in relief.

Well, half-relief. You may not consider them your enemies anymore, but unfortunately, that doesn't mean the opposite is true.

He scoffs at your remark, apparently mildly offended.

“Scottish.”

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besthimbomachine · 1 year

Text

slow morning

summary: Kenny spends a lazy morning with you in bed and it makes him feel that there is something important he wants to ask you about. pairing: kenny omega x reader word count: 3585 warning: smut, it’s just smut and fluff this is a quick and fluffy one, just fluff and smut much how I like it. been planning something a bit longer tho, a multi chapter and a few other oneshots maybe, hope you enjoy it I had fun!

Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, soft and warm as it touched the bed. Kenny was still in a morning haze as he felt it on his skin, blue eyes having only just adjusted to the light. He wouldn’t mind sleeping a little more, not really. But when he woke up he found you in his arms, still asleep, and now he couldn't tear his eyes away. You looked so soft, so peaceful, a far cry from the intense woman everyone saw in your daily life. It was a side of you he felt privileged to see, even if only here and there.

You laid on his chest, skin flush against his own as one of your arms held his torso in an embrace. Sometimes you’d twitch in your sleep and hold him tighter and he wondered what it was you were dreaming of? As egotistical as that sounded, he wanted to think you dreamt of him. Especially since you’d been gracing his dreams more and more in the recent days. Although, his dreams still weren’t as good as the real thing.

Kenny watched as the early morning light tinted your skin in its warm glow, eyes tracing every line and mark he could see. You were wearing one of his tank tops, the thing sitting loose on your frame. One of the sleeves slipped down your shoulder, revealing the fading green of a stubborn bruise from your last match and a scar from an old surgery. He remembered tracing it with his fingers one day only for you to comment that it looked ugly. God, he really wished you could see yourself through his eyes, there was nothing in you he thought was ugly. Every imperfection attractive in its own way.

God, he had really fallen hard. He knew it deep inside for a couple days already but now, as his fingers caressed your messy hair, it was clear as day. Fuck, this fling between the two of you had been going on for about two months now. Maybe it really was time he got to asking you about making it serious. He really wouldn’t mind waking up like this more often. Having your body on his, treading his fingers into your hair, and just enjoying a slow morning by your side.

A noise outside his window disturbed your sleep and you moved a bit more aggressively now, bunching the covers around your waist. Kenny could see movement under your eyelids as you buried your face further into his shoulder. A chuckle escaped his lips as you mumbled something unintelligible, eyes fluttering open slowly as you took your time to return to the waking world. Yeah, you definitely were not a morning person.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Kenny spoke into your ear, so close you could feel his breath, voice still rough from sleep.

You just grunted in return, feeling his chest trembling with laughter. His soothing voice, the gentle caress of his fingers in your hair, the warmth of his body under you, it all almost lulled you back to sleep. With great effort you opened your eyes, being met with his baby blues shining under the soft sunlight. A clear sky on a summer day wouldn’t look more blue, it was almost fucking wrong.

“Morning,” you mumble into his skin, your own voice still strained from the lack of use.

Kenny laughs again and it vibrates through your skin and into your chest, shaking your whole being. He shoots you the most beautiful smile, brighter than the sun and somehow just as warm. The arm around your shoulders tightens more as he brings his face close to yours, noses touching and lips millimeters apart.

“Sleep well?” He asks but doesn’t wait for an answer, mouth connecting to yours just as the words leave his mouth. You only humm into the kiss as a reply, too busy as you feel him sucking on your bottom lip. Kenny doesn’t need to ask twice before you part your lips to let him in, welcoming the feeling of his warm tongue inside your mouth.

The kiss is soft, lazy and sloppy all at the same time. You two slowly explore each other’s mouths, sharing in the warmth of the other’s body. One of your hands finds his jaw, feeling the stubble rubbing against your skin. The hand he has on your hair holds your head in place gently. There is no rush, no pressure, only a slow kiss that tastes like a lazy sunday morning. The blissful break in your busy life that you ever so often found in his arms.

You don’t know how long the kiss lasted but when it ends you still wish it wouldn’t have. Kenny rubs his nose against yours gently before leaving a peck on your lips and drawing his head back. You finally take a good look at him - now awake enough to take in what you are seeing. His curly hair is still disheveled, parts sticking to his face as he yawns, the corners of his eyes wrinkling slightly as he closes them. Shit, he looks so handsome, and feels so warm and you really don’t want to leave this bed. But Kenny has other ideas.

He turns around, pulling the covers from over you both as he tries to get up from the bed. It’s not even a second that he is gone. Not even enough time for Kenny to get his feet on the floor but it already feels cold without him. He was warm like a furnace, so much so that you could almost forget that winter had just started. But only so long as you stayed in contact. So, as soon as he moves away from you your arms find him again, latching tight round his torso as you rested your face on his back.

“What,” he pauses and laughs, turning his head to look at you, “I was gonna go make breakfast, got something against that?”

“I’m cold, you are warm, you can’t leave,” you say that as your arms tighten around him even more.

“Oh come on, it’s not cold,” he says, laughing again as he caresses your arm.

“You say that cause you are always at the temperature of a fucking car engine,” you mumble the words into his skin as you bury your face further into his strong back. “I’m cold, and not ready to get up.”

Kenny chuckles again, feeling warmth spread from his heart through his body at how needy you sounded. All he really wants is for you to need him, to want him, and even just a tiny bit of the feeling was enough to have him set ablaze. How could he ever say no to your request?

“Alright, alright, I’ll stay,” you feel him sigh, whole body moving as he takes a deep breath when you finally let go. As Kenny turns back to you he has a mischievous smile, blue eyes dancing with a playful malice, “I’ll warm you up.”

Falling in bed beside you, Kenny lays on his side and sneaks one arm around your torso, pulling you flush against him. Once more you are enveloped in the warmth of his body and drowned in the smell of his skin. His large hand on your back bringing you so close that you can hear the powerful beating of his heart. Its rhythmic song almost hypnotizing. He buries his face into your hair, the hand on your back traveling lower. As it brings your hips against each other you feel something else. The clear shape of his hard bulge pressing against your panties.

Kenny breaths in the smell of your hair, groaning low and heavy as it courses through his body like a drug. His hand digging into your flesh and pulling you ever closer. Your body fit so well against him, it felt like a perfect match. His hand travels down, pulling your hips into his as he lightly presses his hard cock against you. If you are gonna stay in bed, might as well have some fun.

Snaking one arm under your neck and around your shoulders, Kenny pulls your face ever closer to his own. One of your hands moves to his chest as the other comes around his waist, caressing the muscles on his side. His mouth finds your ear, biting softly at the lobe and pulling a small whimper from your lips. The sound urging Kenny on as he moves to your face, kissing a sloppy trail from the side of your jaw back to your soft lips.

He doesn’t even need to ask for anything this time around, already finding your lips slightly parted and eagerly waiting for him. You sigh into the kiss as your mouths meet, moving one leg between his and pressing your hips into his heavy erection. Kenny’s hisses are silenced by the kiss, his hand moving from your hips to your ass, sinking into the soft flesh as he gropes with force. You moan and he can feel the vibrations even as his mouth swallows the sound.

This kiss is even sloppier than the first but equally as lazy, neither of you rushing as you taste each other. Kenny feels your fingers digging into his back, nails pressing against his skin. He bucks his hips into yours, the hand on your ass holding you in place as he seeks the friction he needs so much. The feeling of his cock rubbing against your body sending jolts down his spine.

Neither of you want to break for air but you both need to, though Kenny doesn’t stay long with his mouth free. As you part, his lips find your neck, biting at the sensitive spot right under your jaw. You cry into his ear and he grunts, deep and animalistic as he thrusts his hips into you again. This has you moaning out his name and he can feel his cock twitch in response to how it sounds coming from your abused lips.

His mouth travels down your neck slowly, nipping and sucking along the way. You draw a shaky breath, nails dragging across his side as you moan out again. It’s his turn to cry your name when you roll your hips into his, making his hard erection pulsate in response. His hand travels from your hips to your leg, fingers sinking into the skin of your thigh as your own hand drags down his back and down to his ass. You are pulling him further into you and if only he told you how unnecessary that was. If Kenny had it his way, he’d never let go.

A hard bite to the base of your neck has you crying and shaking. If this man leaves a mark you are gonna have to find a closed top to wear for your next match. Not that you’d have the mind to care about it right now. Especially not as his tongue soothingly licks at the spot he’d just dug his teeth into. His strong hands hold you in place as he rolls his hips against yours, you can feel his muscles moving as your own hand holds strong onto his hard ass. You snake your fingers from his chest up to his neck, delving into his curly locks and tugging lightly.

Kenny responds by grunting into your skin, the sound husky and shaky as he rolls you both over. He hovers above you now, bearing his weight in one arm and caging your legs between his knees. When you look back at him the blue is all but gone from his beautiful eyes. Chased away by the inky darkness of his dilated pupils, a pool of desire and lust. You are pretty sure you probably look very much the same.

Lowering his face to yours Kenny brings you into a kiss again. His free hand snakes inside your shirt - his shirt - pressing hard into your waist as it slowly travels up. Your skin feels so warm against him, so soft, and something in him desperately wants to add a bruise of his own to the ones you already have. Though, he knows better than to mark you in a place you can’t easily hide. And he likes it better when only you two know the sinful bruises he has left on your skin.

When his hand finds your breast he gropes hard at it before pinching the nipple between his fingers. You moan loudly into the kiss and he does it again as your fingers tug at his hair hard now. God, he is so fucking hard already, feeling heavy and so fucking sensitive. Lifting your shirt up Kenny exposes your breast, parting his mouth from yours before his lips find the supple skin previously hidden. He sucks and bites making you cry out again, a broken sound so desperate it has him shuddering.

His hand leaves your breast and travels down to your hips, fingers slipping into the soft fabric of your panties before they find your pussy. You are so wet already and Kenny grunts, indulging in the feeling and the way your body shakes as his deft fingers tease your clit. It doesn’t take long for him to slip his thick digits into your eager hole, sinking them to the last knuckle as you moan his name again. You feel so good, so soft and warm in the most sinful way.

Kenny starts moving his fingers inside of you as his thumb finds your clit and you feel like you are losing your mind. His mouth on your breast and those thick digits inside of you driving you insane. He finds your sweet spot fast, calloused hand working you into a frenzy masterfully. It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to build into you, higher and higher with every passing minute. The pressure in your core building so tight, you can hear your moans and they sound too desperate, too needy to be your own voice. You want to shake and tremble but he has you caged under him with little room to move.

Digging your nails into his skin you can feel your body start to spasm, white stars taking over your vision as you cry his name like a plea. It’s growing and growing and it’s all too much. It’s like a torture as you feel your senses blurring and screaming at the same time until you finally fall over the edge. Your sight goes blurry and all you can feel is you and him as your orgasm washes over your body, muscles shaking as you feel his fingers sliding out of you.

You sigh but only for a second before his mouth finds yours again and you give into the kiss. It’s gentle and warm and wet and you could get lost in this forever. The hand you have on his ass moves to slide under his boxers, finding his hip bone and trailing from it through the delicious V line down to his crotch. When your fingers finally find his cock Kenny hisses, shaky breath fanning your lips in the messy kiss. His length feels so hot and big on your hands as you pull it out of his underwear and you can already feel the wetness gathered at the tip.

Kenny’s free hand finds your thigh, large palm sinking into the flesh as he moves you around. He frees your legs from under him, hand moving to the inside of your tight as he pushes it up against your body. His mouth never leaves you as you line his cock with your pussy, feeling the head pressing against your entrance before he fully moves into you with one long stroke. It feels so good, you both moan into the kiss, staying still for a moment as you enjoy the fullness he brings. He is so thick, stretching your walls in the most delicious way and for a second you forget how to breathe.

You feel so good around his cock, like you were made for him and Kenny curses into your lips, biting and sucking as he regains his self control. It’s like you have a hold of his sanity and can take it away whenever you please, something scary and exciting all at the same time. He starts to move slowly, long strokes as he pulls out to the head before sinking down to the balls again. His cock drags your walls with every movement and it feels so damn good. By this point you are barely kissing, lips and tongues in a gorgeous mess as you both moan and cry with every movement.

He can feel your nails digging into his skin as your hand moves from his shoulder to his back, the one on his hair pulling at it hard. You feel so perfect, taste so good and fuck he wants to take you like this everyday. To feel your mouth on his, the sweat gathering on your bodies as your skin rubs together. He wants you wearing his shirts and crying out his name in bliss every morning and every night. To feel your pussy tightening around his length as it does now every fucking day.

It's not long before Kenny starts picking up his pace, setting a faster rhythm that has you whimpering and him grunting like an animal. His hips snap against yours with power as he drives himself fast and deep into your pussy, hitting your sweet spot, still sensitive from your orgasm. Every whimper and cry he pulls from you makes his hard length twitch. Kenny can feel the pleasure building within him, it rages inside his body almost bordering on agony. He keeps the pace, sinking his entire length down before pulling out again hard and fast.

You moan out his name and Kenny feels his cock pulsating hard inside of you, his self control faltering more with every passing minute. His thrusts speeding up as his precum mix with your wetness making sinful wet sounds with every thrust. He fucks you deep and rough chasing his high until his rhythm start to falter, his length twitching with every movement. It’s all too much and he can feel himself ready to burst.

Kenny moans out your name, slamming as deep down as he physically can. The sloppy sound of his cock slamming into your dripping pussy only driving him closer to the edge. His length twitching violently as he thrusts his hips into yours in a desperate haze. He feels all his muscles contracting, burying his cock into you to the hilt as he senses his orgasm hit him. His cock spasms with abandon as he shoots rope after thick rope of cum inside of you in a torrent that almost feels never ending. He paints your insides white, making sure to drain every last drop before pulling out.

You whimper at the loss of him and he chuckles, peppering light kisses on your face before falling on the bed beside you. Both of you are breathing hard as you just lay there for a few seconds, his hand reaching for yours and playing with your fingers. After he regains his breath Kenny turns to you, pulling your body closer to his own as your hand finds his stubbled jaw again. You get lost in his beautiful gaze, their gorgeous blue now having fully returned.

“You fully awake now?” He asks, voice back to its usual sound.

“Hmmm,” you humm in agreement before a yawn finds its way to your lips, “can’t say I’d mind waking up like this more often,” you laugh, eyes still closed.

Kenny stays in silence for a moment, basking in the beauty of your soft laughter before his lips move with a life of their own. “We could do this more often, you could stay around more, we could make this something,” when he realizes what he is saying it’s already too late. His throat feels dry and he can only hope the fear gripping at his mind isn’t as clear in his eyes when your gaze finds his.

“Kenny,” you pause, holding his eyes in your own with the powerful pull of the sea, “are you asking me to be you girlf-”

“If you want to,” he doesn’t even let you finish your sentence before he speaks again, though he soon regrets it as the moment of silence following has his mind reeling, “I mean -”

It’s your turn to cut him off as you pull his face into yours, lips crashing in a soft kiss before your eyes find his once again. “Yeah, if you are gonna keep waking me up like this I think I’d very much like it,” you chuckle and you can see his baby blues brighten even more, his smile spreading to his eyes as you feel his hand touch your face lovingly.

“I’d be happy to wake you up like this all the time,” he replies with a chuckle of his own, lips crashing into yours, diving into a sweet kiss that melts his heart. Yeah, he’d be glad to wake you up like this every day. To have your soft lips first thing in the morning would be a pleasure he feels lucky to have. However, just as you indulge in each other’s taste a grumble from your stomach makes you both laugh and break away. “But now, I guess we really need that breakfast.”

#kenny omega #kenny omega x reader #kenny omega smut #kenny omega imagine #aew smut

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