#boil is the only one that know what hes doing

[nanaslutt]

shameless

ʚ yuta x reader

ʚ cont: fem reader, fluffy fluff, jealousy, possessiveness, clingy!yuta

note: congrats @dracrimes for winning my fic giveaway, I hope you enjoy ^.^

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT FOLLOW

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Um...I'll take the brown sugar boba please!" You chirped to the young-looking waitor, who nodded and smiled as he took your order. "Is it gonna be normal sugar, hon?" He asked, tilting his head at you and squinting his eyes a bit as he voiced the pet name. You were so busy looking at the delicious desserts on the menu that you didn't hear the pet name, and you didn't notice the spike in Yuta's cursed energy. 

"I'll take it a little sweeter than normal please!" You asked, handing your menu to the man in front of you. Yuta's eyes were glued to where your hands met as the waiter's finger grazed across your own. "Extra sweet drink for an extra sweet girl." He said, winking at you. Your eyes opened a bit in surprise, but you ultimately shrugged it off, thinking he was joking. 

At this point, Yuta felt his blood boiling. Was he stupid? Was he so dense that he wasn't able to realize you were on a date right now, or was he so shameful that he didn't even care? Yuta wasn't used to feeling like this. It was rare that he experienced jealousy like this regarding another person. He balled his fist by his side and reached his hand across the table with one hand to adjust your bracelet which had gone crooked, a small show of affection in front of the waitor. 

"Are you getting anything Yu?" You asked sweetly, your chest swelling with love as you watched his fingers drag down your wrist to play with your fingers. Yuta looked up from your hands and smiled sweetly, his jaw clenching under the weight of his teeth as he tried to calm himself before he spoke. "I'm okay baby, I'll just have some of yours." You were unable to stop your eyebrows from shooting upward in surprise at the nickname. 

It was rare that Yuta used pet names with you, he always got so flustered whenever he tried, so you felt your heart jump when you heard the pet name. You missed the way the corner of the waiter's mouth twitched as he watched Yuta talk sweetly to you in front of him. It was quite obvious what he was doing. You on the other hand were in your own little world, listening to your internal voice scream as you replayed the nickname over in your head. 

After the waitor walked away, Yuta quickly got up from his place across from you and scooched into your side of the booth. "You're being so cute today, what was that?" You teased, tilting your head to the side at him as you took his hand in your own, resting your hands over your knee. "You never call me baby." Yuta felt his demeanor change the instant you had called him out. His face went red and he looked away, covering his mouth with his hand as he poorly disguised his embarrassment as a cough.

"I uh, I don't know. Just wanted to say it." He said bashfully, turning his head back your way. "So cute." You gushed, squeezing his hand tighter in your own. Yuta sighed and plopped his forehead down on your shoulder, his breath tickling your arm. "Don't tease me, I just wanted to try it out." He mumbled under his breath. You brought your other hand up and ruffled his hair, making him sit up and look at you with a slight pout as you continued to play with his hair. 

While Yuta looked into your eyes the only thing he could think about was how lucky he is, how grateful he is to call you his. And you were, you were his, not that waiter's. Yuta felt bad for feeling so malicious toward the waitor when you had no idea. Maybe he was overreacting, but it still stands that you were his, and he hated to see people hit on you so blatantly when he was sitting right there. He had enough of being treated like he was being invisible for an entire lifetime. It sucked being treated that way on his own, but it sucked even more when you were involved. 

"Alrightyy, here's that extra sweet boba for you, hun," Yuta swore he felt a blood vessel in his head pop when that same man's irritating voice echoed from behind him. Yuta still had a smile on his face while he looked at you, but the second he turned his head there was nothing but a smile on his face. He would never treat staff this way, but this time was different. He called you that stupid pet name not once, but twice now? 

The waitor had a blood-boiling smirk on his face as Yuta turned around, the two boys making eye contact with one another. You were blissfully unaware of their little rivalry as your mouth started to drool while staring at your drink in his hand. Yuta stopped his hand in motion by grabbing the cup in his own when he looked like he was trying to set it in front of you. "I got it," Yuta said coldly, not even daring to blink as he grabbed the cup from the weaker waitor with ease. 

"Right, just make sure you look on the side of the cup little lady, left a little something for you." The waitor explained, directing his focus on you and winking before he walked off. Yuta grits his teeth as he burns the face of that man into his brain, imagining what he would do to him if he could. "Yu look! The top is a bear how cute." You exclaimed, your voice instantly melting away some of the anxiety and malice he was feeling.

Yuta turned his head back to you and rested his head in his hand by placing his elbow on the table as he watched you enjoy your drink. "How is it?" He asked, his heart swelling with love as he watched your eyes light up with joy. "It's soooo good! Try some." You offered, holding the drink up to his lips. He hated to hear you praise the drink that man made, but he closed his mouth around the straw and sipped down some of the liquid. It was a little too sweet for his taste, but it was fitting for someone like you. 

"Good huh?" You said, smiling as you pulled the cup away from him. Yuta watched curiously as your smile turned into confusion as your eyes read something on the side of the cup. "Oh..." You said, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. "I think the waitor left his number on my drink." You said, your expression dropping as you turned the cup around to face Yuta. 

The inside of Yuta's head felt like a battlefield as he sat up and grabbed the cup, reading the number over. He took a special interest in the little heart on the side of the cup. "I thought the names he was calling me were a little weird, but I think it's pretty obvious we're together." You laughed. Yuta found nothing funny about the situation, he wanted to throw the drink and the soiled cup at the shameless employee, but he had to hold himself together for you.

"You okay Yuta, don't let it bother you, okay?" You said, caressing his cheek and taking the drink back from him. "I'm fine." He nodded, leaning into your touch. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the shop and go back home with you. Spend some time watching a movie or sitting in the garden alone with you, where he doesn't have to worry about other people ogling you or trying to take you away. 

"Is it okay if we leave?" Yuta asked, grabbing your hand that held his face. You felt your heart skip a beat as you watched Yuta close his eyes and bask in your touch. You think you were starting to catch on to why Yuta was being so uncharacteristically clingy, but you didn't want to say something and make him stop acting so cute. "Of course, you feeling okay?" You asked, letting him hold your hand.

"I'm okay, just wanna leave now. Getting a little tired." He said, smiling softly at you. You nodded and began to gather your things. "I'll throw this away for you." Yuta offered sweetly, picking up your finished cup of boba. Yuta made a point to find the trash can closest to the register, where the boy from earlier was standing, waiting for customers. Yuta watched him like a hawk, hoping he would notice him throw the cup with his number on it away. Sure enough, the boy looked over and watched with raised eyebrows as Yuta threw the drink away with a little more force than necessary, the trash shaking from the impact.

The boy sucked his teeth and squinted his eyes at Yuta, watching him turn his back on him and walk back to your table. "Ready?" Yuta offered, holding his hand out for you as you got up to sit from the booth. "Mhm." You smiled, letting him take your hand in his and walk out of the cafe. "I'm actually glad you said something, I was getting a little tired myself." You said as you walked hand in hand down the street, drinking in what was left of the sun before it set soon. 

"I'm glad, I didn't want to ruin anything if you wanted to stay," Yuta said, resting his head on the top of your head as you walked together. You smirked and squeezed his hand tighter. "That guy really bothered you huh?" You asked, slowing as you walked up to a crosswalk and hit the button, watching the cars go by. Yuta felt his face heat up as he rubbed the back of his head. You tilted your head at him and smiled, watching his eyes dart around as his face scrunched in embarrassment.

"It's okay Yu, I love you and only you. I don't even remember his face if that makes you feel better." You giggled, smiling up at him. Good thing Yuta remembered his face well enough for the both of you. He wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily. Maybe he would have Panda and Inumaki call the establishment over and over again and complain about him to get him fired. That would make him feel better. Yeah, he would probably do that, and you didn't have to worry about a thing.

Yuta stepped towards you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you tightly against his chest. "Good, because I don't either," Yuta replied, lying in his words. He would never forget such an ugly face so easily. You rubbed your face against his chest and squeezed him tightly, so tight he let out a funny noise of discomfort as you squeezed all the air from his lungs before pulling away. 

"Don't be jealous okay? We can spend the rest of the day cuddling in my room when we get back." Yuta couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he looked at you, his heart brimming with joy and satisfaction. He nodded and let you escape his grasp fully as you took his hand in your own and started walking across the street, dragging him along with you. "Just an FYI though, I like it when you're clingy with me, it's cute." You giggled, looking back at him.

"Alright, alright," Yuta said, waving his free hand in front of him, trying to get you to change the topic. You giggled at his embarrassment as he stumbled over his own feet while crossing the street. Yuta was so lucky to have someone as comforting as you as a partner, already he felt the malice from earlier melt off of his body, but the need to hold your hand tightly still prevailed until long after the two of you got back to the dorms.

#yuta x reader #jujutsu kaisen yuta okkotsu #yuta fluff #jjk yuta #yuta okkotsu #jujutsu okkotsu #jjk okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu fluff #jujutsu kaisen okkotsu #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you

[delicatebarness]

i cant read your mind | chapter two

Summary: After hearing the news, you go to confront Sam. However, you end up on your first mission since the return of Thanos.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier spoilers throughout.

Word Count: 1584

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: Two chapters in one night. I did plan for this chapter to cover the whole of episode two of FATWS however, I also don't like the chapters being too long so here's the first half.

Tags: @blackhawkfanatic | @cjand10 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @missvelvetsstuff | @buckys-metal-arm | @matchat3a | @shadowzena43 | @torntaltos |

Your heart pounded in your chest as you scrambled for the remote, turning up the volume. On the screen, a man clad in red, white, and blue filled the screen as he stood tall, winking at the camera. The new Captain America. 

Racing with questions, your mind couldn’t stop. How could they replace Steve like that? And who the fuck even was this new Captain America? Was he even worthy of carrying the shield?

Frustration and anger boiled your blood, mixing with the hurt from Bucky’s appearance the day before. The world felt like it was spinning out of control, and tears began to trickle down your cheeks. 

Taking a deep breath, you wiped away the tears and forced yourself to focus. With determination, you got up and made your way to find Sam.

~

“You had no right to give up the shield, Sam.” you listened to Bucky and Sam talk about the situation as they made their way closer to you. Not yet noticing your presence. 

“Hey. This is what you’re not gonna do.” an amused smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Sam began to tell Bucky straight, “You’re not gonna come here in your overextended life and tell me about my rights. It’s over Bucky.”  

Applause echoed through the room, drawing the attention of Sam and Bucky. Bucky’s gaze locked with yours, while Sam’s eyes rolled.

“You too?” Sam’s voice filled with annoyance as he addressed you. Your smile remained as you stepped forward. 

“How could I resist this party?” you quipped, voice laced with amusement. “Sam, you know I respect your decision,” you sent him a sincere smile as his expression softened at your words. He was grateful for your support, now and back in Washington. “But, we need to fix this.” 

“I have bigger things to deal with now,” Sam exclaimed, taking both you and Bucky by surprise. “What could be bigger than this?” Bucky asked, his disbelief was evident. 

You listened to Sam and Bucky go back and forth about the group called the Flag Smashers and The Big Three. You were on Bucky’s side about the wizards, but you knew agreeing with Sam would rile him up.

As the conversation carried on, you felt a sense of urgency. Without a second thought, you began walking toward the waiting jet. “Where do you think you’re going?” Bucky called out to you, his tone mixed with frustration and concern.

As you reach the jet, you turn to face Bucky, “I’m going with Sam,” you stated firmly, meeting his gaze. Bucky’s gaze hardened as both he and Sam walked towards you, you heard them bickering between each other but resulted in rolling your eyes as you boarded. 

~

The flight to Germany was quiet for the most part, there was an occasional interruption from the rumble of the jet’s engine. You found yourself consistently checking your phone for texts from your date, and stealing glances between Sam and Bucky. They had been engrossed in a silent staring contest for most of the flight. Their unspoken tension filled the cabin. 

“Is that your boyfriend?” Bucky’s snarky remark cut the tension, his annoyance evident as he observed your constant glances down to your phone.  

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. “Jealous, Barnes?” you teased. He rolled his eyes at your response. You tucked your phone away, ready to turn your attention to the mission. 

As the journey to Germany continued, Bucky and Sam returned to their staring contest, only breaking again when Sam got up to pick his comm up. Bucky followed his lead and you followed Bucky’s. And, within an instant, they returned to their arguing: This time about a plan. 

“Where’s the chute?” Bucky asked, resulting in finding out you were too low for them. He looked back at you with concern, he knew he could survive the jump, but you wouldn’t. You knew you couldn’t afford to waste time, it was too risky to attempt jumping with Bucky. 

“I’ll catch up with you from the ground,” you reassured the super soldier, his concern was palpable as he looked back at you. His eyes betrayed him as they filled with worry. 

He nodded, reaching his Vibranium hand to your cheek and running his fingers down your neck. A shiver was sent down your spine, you missed the cool feeling of his left hand. “Be careful, baby,” he whispered in your ear before turning to prepare for the jump. You watched him as you allowed yourself a moment to apprehend the feeling of being called ‘Baby’ by him again. 

~

Stepping out onto the solid ground, you felt the urge of determination course through you. You heard over the comms that Sam and Bucky wasted no time, they immediately sprung into action. Immediately, you began searching for a car you could use to catch up to them. Your mind focused solely on reaching them, you wasted nothing rushing towards a car you knew would be fast enough. Using your government identity to secure it, you thanked the salesman and wasted no time roaring the engine and speeding off in the direction of Sam and Bucky. 

As you sped toward their location, Sam updated you on the tracking information for Redwing over the comms. “Shit!” Bucky’s exclaim echoed through the small earpiece, you pressed down harder on the gas pedal, determined to reach them. 

Finally reaching their location, you witnessed Sam swiftly grabbing Bucky from under the truck, and soaring with him into a nearby field. Meanwhile, you continued to trail behind the truck, your eyes widening in surprise as you noticed the new Captain America engaged in a fight on top of it. 

“Those are Super Soldier, kid, get out of there.” Bucky’s voice was urgent as it crackled through the comms, his concern for you still evident as he warned you of the danger. 

Your voice was laced with determination as you responded, “Don’t call me ‘kid’.” You prepared to face the Super Soldier head-on. As you prepared mentally, you didn’t see the new Captain America about to collide with the car. The impact was catastrophic, causing you to lose control of the vehicle and tumble off the road and into the woodland area by the field. 

Before you could register what had happened, new Cap and his friend had vanished. Sam and Bucky were by your side in an instant. “I told you to be careful,” Bucky reminded you as he gently pulled you from the wreckage, steadying you.

~

As Sam and Bucky conversed between themselves, you found comfort in intertwining your fingers with Bucky’s, his silent gesture of support. A chill swept over you, causing your body to tremble. 

Coming to a halt, Bucky crouched down to meet your gaze as concern plastered over his face. “You okay?” he asked, noting the shallow and rapid rise and fall of your breathing. You nodded, feeling the chill of shock settling. 

Bucky swiftly removed his jacket and draped it over you. Despite the absence of his left sleeve, the jacket still provided warmth and comfort. 

After walking for a while longer, the sound of a horn honking beside you caught the attention of the three of you. You looked up, meeting the gaze of the new Captain America. John Walker, Sam had explained to you previously. Despite his efforts to engage in conversation, you followed Sam and Bucky’s lead, choosing to ignore them. 

However, it didn’t take long for Walker to provoke a reaction out of Bucky, unknowingly circling back to the topic of wizards. This led to Bucky defending the Captain America title, causing a rise now out of Walker. After realizing that Bucky was unfazed, Walker shifted his approach, acknowledging the state you were currently in. 

“Look, it’s 20 miles to the airport. You guys need a ride.” Walker offered, and he tried to convey a sense of goodwill despite the unlying tension. Your eyes pleaded with Bucky as he glanced down at you. Walker might not have been your choice of Captain America but the idea of sitting down sounded appealing. 

Bucky assisted you into the car with a sigh. You couldn’t but grimace inwardly as you locked glances with Walker the moment he shot you the same wink you had seen earlier on television. The one moment you wouldn’t have protested Bucky throwing a punch for someone looking at you, and he misses it. 

You nestled your head against Bucky’s shoulder as they discussed the issue of The Flag Smashers. With each glance from Walker toward you, Bucky's body tensed beneath you, prompting an episode of the infamous Bucky stare-off. 

“Does he always just stare like that?” Walker asked Sam, a smile tugged at your lips at the thought of Bucky’s intense stare making Walker so uncomfortable, he needed reassurance. “You get used to it,” Sam huffed in response. The conversation resumed as they spoke about the government and what they were trying to do to help after The Blip. 

“Battlestar?” Bucky exclaimed, a sense of annoyance mixed with amusement in his voice. “Stop the car!” He commanded the driver. The car came to a halt and Bucky wasted no time to exit leaving Walker shouting back toward him. “Come on, Y/N!” Bucky’s voice boomed a clear demand for you to follow him.

For a moment you debated if you should follow your ex-situationship or simply stay in the car and avoid walking the rest of the way to the airport.

---

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #i can #i cant read your mind #i cant #i cant read your mind fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #fatws #fatws bucky #fatws au #fatws!bucky x agent!reader

[easy-there-leftovers]

“While I hope that isn’t your intention, staring any harder at the fire won’t make it any stronger. No matter how accomplished you may be.”

You feel the muscles in your brows relax in the dark of the night. Interesting, that. Considering how you don’t recall them furrowing so tightly in the first place.

Hearing the scratch of shoes against stone, you feel him make himself more apparent, as he always did. Moving to stand beside you. Not resting his eyes upon your visage just yet. Choosing to study the dying embers you must have been glaring at in front of you.

He takes quite an awful amount of time in doing so, too. Whatever thought you might have been thinking about long gone from your grasp as his presence unnerves you.

You feel your hands clenching and unclenching to alleviate yourself.

Yet the very air around him still makes your head swim, and your blood boil.

He takes a deep breath, as if steeling his resolve, before turning to look at you.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Cut the shit, Dekarios. What do you want?”

He shudders at the use of his name, but raises his hand up in false surrender. Gesticulating with his arms and hands as much as he did when you last saw him this close up.

“I mean no harm, and I see no point in denying to remedy whatever rift may have come between us.” He motions to the both of you, as he speaks.

“Come now,” he moves to lessen your distance, but you only turn to keep facing the dying campfire as he continues.

“Surely whatever schoolyard taunts and transgressions exchanged aren’t worth jeopardizing our efforts in our search for a cure, hm?” There’s a hopeful lilt at the end in his voice. He looks almost sincerely apologetic as continues on. Words, lacking their usual garrulous nature, as if keeping things short and simple would appease you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was apologizing out of the goodness of his heart.

“And who told you to apologize this time? Was it our fiery friend, or ‘The Blade of Frontiers?’ Or perhaps even our closest confidante; Astarion?” He raises a finger up with a confused expression to counter, but you beat him to it.

“With all due respect, Mr. Dekarios, we can go on our merry little way without discussing this.” You still refuse to look at him as you settle on admiring your nails for a change of scenery.

“Perhaps we’ll find some other fortune altogether and be rid of our parasites in the mornings that follow! And our little truce will matter not once we part ways and we both return to where we belong.” You finally move towards your tent to close your conversation, but Gale seems to ignore the implication as he follows you.

“You can finally return home to your beloved tower in Waterdeep, and I will be happily rotting in my little hovel.” You make one final tilt of the head to look at him, as if turning your whole body would be too much of an effort or grace to bestow upon him.

“Good night, sir Archmage.” You huff out as you disappear into the flaps of your tent without even letting your old classmate a chance to retaliate.

He stares incredulously at the still swishing material of your sanctuary. He releases a heavy sigh that built up in him and walked back to his own space in the camp to stew in his thoughts.

His eyes catching on the spyglass that he set up right outside his tent with disappointment.

If things had gone pleasantly, he would’ve asked you to observe the stars with him, as they were clearer to see from here than in Baldur’s Gate.

He distantly recalls you wanting for one during your academy days as the view from your little hovel, as he once called it, was rather murky. What with all the factories in the area.

He takes one last look at your tent from his and shakes his head.

It eludes him why you’re so hostile around him.

And even more so when you’re nowhere near this way around the others. He figured you two would be closer, given your shared interests and trade.

Hells, he even admired you all those years ago. Watching you accomplish so much, despite many difficulties. He wonders if you’ve ever respected him in the same way.

He sees Wyll looking at him, and he shakes his head to tell him that he doesn’t feel like talking. Entering his own tent to turn in for the night.

Hoping for any good that the gods can afford them come first light.

#bg3 x reader #I’m clearly not meant to write anymore #but I needed something like this out there at least #somebody please do a better job than me #gale dekarios x reader #bg3 #Gale x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep #Gale dekarios #gale bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 gale x tav #bg3 gale x reader #wizard rivalry? #wizard shit or something

[wrathofrats]

Some gay freak DMd me “I love the idea of mist hating rains attitude and how fucking high n mighty he seems to feel so she wrecks him and maybe she has Dew watch for a touch of humiliation bc dews obv so obsessed w Rain, it'll be good for droplet to see how pathetic he rlly is or smthn” and then I blacked out and wrote multiple paragraphs in his DMs so enjoy

(Love youuuuu @divine-misfortune)

Warnings for: dubcon, humiliation, probably technically exhibitionism, tentacles, trans rain, mean mist, yeah

Rain hasn’t looked at her all day.

Between trying to teach him how to play all the way through square hammer and trying to even begin touching the newer songs he’s expected to play, rain has barely even spoken or looked her in the eyes.

When mist corrects his technique he ignores her, playing through anyways like he hasn't done anything wrong. His attitude can be rough at times, as any water ghouls is, but today? Mist doesn’t think she can handle it. She can deal with snarky comments and eye rolls, but rain acting like he knows better than her makes her blood boil.

“Is this seriously how you’re going to act today?” Mist scoffs when rain looks up just to look back down again. “Are you really not going to listen to me?”

“I already know the song. Maybe if you stopped talking you’d be able to hear it too” rain mumbles.

Mist almost sees red. She hastily grabs the bass from his hands, trying not to let her rage damage the instrument. Once she knows it’s safe back in its stand she grabs rain by the shirt collar and drags him to the common room, ignoring the curses and protests rain yells out while clawing at her hand.

Dew sits in one of the chairs, legs lazily thrown over the arm with his phone in his hand. He honestly looks like he’s about to fall asleep before he hears the sound of rain threatening mist coming from around the corner.

“Get your fucking hands off of me mist!” Rain almost screams as she practically throws him to the ground in front of dew. It’s a pointed decisions, she’s seen the way dew looks at him, can read him like a book after all the time they’ve had to spend together. If rain wants to act like a brat for her, then he should have no problem showing that side of him to dew as well.

“Stay down if you know what’s good for you” mist hisses when rain scrambles. Dew can only stare wide eyed at the situation in front of him. He swings his legs to sit normally, confused on if he should stay where he is or leave to save rains dignity. The look mist throws at him keeps him glued in the chair.

“Our perfect water lily seems to think he’s figured everything out” mist smiles at dew, slotting herself behind rain. “Just thought that there’s one more thing he might want to know about”

One arm holds him to her chest as he struggles, the other yanks his pants to his ankles. Rain attempts to cover himself, pull his legs up and place his hands over his exposed cunt, but shame fills his face even if dew can’t actually see anything like this.

Dew just sits and watches, doesn’t dare to move. He’s half embarrassed for the poor ghoul in front of him because he knows damn well what mist is about to do,

But the other half is almost too excited to see it.

Mist whispers something unintelligible into rains ear that subdues him enough to let her force his legs open. His pussy is on full display for dew to gawk at. He’s already starting to get slick and shiny, pretty. Rain can bare to look at him, instead shoving his face into mists neck as she coos.

Mist slides her fingers up and down his folds, gathering the slick that’s already about to drip onto the carpet, and spreads him wide so dew can see how he clenches around nothing when she ghosts her fingers over his clit.

It’s obscene. Dew feels like he’s the sick one for staring so hard but god it’s impossible not to watch. Rains thighs twitch as if he desperately wants to close them and hide himself but he knows better, breathing heavy while mist just smiles at how docile she’s made him.

She rubs at his clit, purposeful motions that have him bucking up into her hand in search of more friction. The debauched wet sounds get louder as she works, dew wouldn’t be surprised if the floor below him was soaked already.

Mist is shocked it doesn’t take much, even more so that rain doesn’t know about this part of himself yet since he seems to be so easy. She rubs faster when she begins to feel it, rain lifting his head in slight panic.

Dew knows what she’s doing, knows the terrifying feeling.

A thick tentacle slowly reveals itself from rains cunt, bluish in hue, dripping in rains own arousal.

“Oh there we are waterlily” mist smiles as rain again tries to wiggle himself away to close his legs in shame from whatever is currently happening to him.

Mist keeps him open and on display, strokes the tentacle and guides it to stretch him open. Not super long but absolutely thick enough to have rain gasping and jutting his hips away,

It’s wet, making a mess of the poor ghoul for dew to watch, just seeing his little crush get ruined by his own tentacle in front of him.

#I’ve been meaning to shove this hear for a bit #eye twitches #ohhh humiliating rain my beloved #and mean mist my beloved #cw tentacles #cw dubcon #cw humiliation #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #mist ghoulette

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Kouyou Ozaki (self-aware)

Self-Aware! Kouyou Ozaki x GN! Reader

Warning: OOC. Yandere. Koyouou wanted to do some damage to Reader. English is my second language. Some slight spoilers.

Becoming self-aware

🌂 With self-awareness came hatred. And Kouyou Ozaki can't tell exactly, at whom her hate were directed to.

🌂 Was she mad at author, for putting them through the pain? Was she angry, because her "life" was the way it "was", because Author thought, sad backstory will make... readers... pity the character..? Was she angry at readers for liking tragic backstories? And what about Kyouka? What she did do deserve such treatment?

🌂 Kouyou can't tell for sure. Every time she tried to make some sort of scene out of her feelings or thoughts, they go awry, and Kouyou will get a headache, boiling anger and no answers.

🌂Nevertheless, Koyou just can't sit here, mopping all day... night... Whatever time was in this wrenched place. She must help other Port Mafia members. And Kyouka.

🌂 Despite the situation, Mori tried to keep his head cool, Kouyou can give him that. The idea of patrolling the city in pairs were good. She and Kajii were tusked to patrol the borders of Yokohama. Maybe, they could find a way out of the city.

🌂 There was something else. Not only hate. Hope. Hope of a mad person.

🌂 Maybe, it's just a cruel ability, that took over Yokohama's citizens? Maybe, if they find a way to escape Yokohama, the life will be back to normal? They will only need to kill perpetrator, and life will be back to normal. To normal real lives of normal real people.

🌂 If Koyou could, she would pray. Pray for an ability user, who took over Yokohama with their ability. For someone, they could reach. For someone, her Golden Demon could stab.

🌂 But then, Hirotsu and Chuuya brought news. Armed Detective Agency, including Dazai also were self-aware.

🌂 Of course, Koyou could pretend, that Dazai wasn't real, that he was a doll, an illusion. Just a tool to mess with everyone's brains. But, Kouyou knew, that it's not true.

🌂There is an ability user. Yokohama isn't under ability's effect.

🌂 And Kouyou Ozaki, Port Mafia Executive, "Golden Demon" ability user was created only for someone's entertainment.

🌂 But, there was also good news. Kyouka was... fine. According to Dazai, Ranpo, that detective, asked her to be his assistant, while he was investigating current situation. Kouyou was happy about that.

🌂 Illusion might be broken, world is big fake, but, right here and now, Kouyou Ozaki exists. And she has duty to fulfill.

🌂 And then, she felt entity's gaze on her.

_________

She and Kajii were paroling borders of Yokohama again.

Kouyou Ozaki felt both irritated and nervous. The world outside of Yokohama was even... emptier.

The closest metaphor Kouyou could find, is drawing of a forest, made by kindergartener, who didn't know about animals existence.

Wilderness outside Yokohama was empty. No animals, no birds, no insects. Even trees were limited. It looked like a park, not an inhabitant area.

And it was flat. No hills, no complete roads.

The river and road lead to nothing. They just... stopped. Like someone cut them.

And beyond that only empty sea of green grass with rare trees existed.

That's why that unblinking gaze in the sky made Kouyou nervous. It was natural fear. Fear of being stalked by someone, while being far away from safety.

But, irritation still was Kouyou main emotion towards that entity.

Kouyou knew what it was. Who they were.

Reader. A single one, Kouyou was about that. Another of that people, who wanted drama. Who wanted to see sad backstories.

Looking from afar. In the security of their real lives. Of their real world.

Oh, how Kouyou wanted to blind that Reader up above.

She wasn't the only one, who had that idea. Some time ago Chuuya said to her, that he dreams about the day he could show that person, how powerful his ability is. They will feel it on their own skin.

And then, time resets.

And Kouyou, once again, was tasked to look after fifteen-year-old Chuuya Nakahara, who has just joined Port Mafia.

__________

When they start feeling your presence

🌂 The shock of sudden time travel still was fresh in her mind, when Chuuya's words delivered the second shocking hit.

"Ane-san... I think, we were mistaking about... them... They are"... Chuuya thought carefully about his next words. "... seems not that bad."

Chuuya grinned for a second.

"And they knew, when to start playing good rock song."

🌂 Kouyou wasn't sure, what to say about it. Chuuya wasn't the one, who would change his opinion that easy. What happened between him and Reader?

🌂 And why she was hearing a laughter during Chuuya's and Dazai's bickering? Very soft and nice laughter.

🌂 Next time travel was felt worse. Because Kouyou woke up in the middle of the fight with Verlaine. But, something was off. King of Assassins was looking at something above his head. He wasn't paying attention to the battle.

🌂 After the battle, Chuuya was mumbling something with a smile on his face. And he was looking at something above his head.

🌂 And when Port Mafia found Verlaine, he was looking before him with a faint smile on his face. He was whispering.

"Perhaps, one day, we will meet. And I will show my gratitude for you... Little Light."

🌂 Kouyou could swear, that for one moment, she saw a shapeless blob, floating before Verlaine.

🌂 Another reset. This time, Kouyou and Mori was discussing Kyouka. And two new things appeared. First, a blinking blob of light, that appeared and disappeared from time to time. And a voice, coming from up above.

Pretty [||||||||||] her [|||||||||||] kimono.

🌂 A surprisingly kind smile appeared on Mori's face.

"Oh, so you finally can see Little Light, Kouyou-kun? Aren't they adorable?"

🌂 Kouyou didn't answer Mori's question, choosing to met with Kyouka. He heard, that Port Mafia and ADA were negotiating about creating a union. To get to the Real World. And met with Guiding Light.

🌂 Kouyou guessed, that Guiding Light were Reader. What happened while she was away? For a moment, Kouyou felt irritated. Why she wasn't included in more events? She wanted to know more about sudden change of hearts about Reader.

🌂 Kouyou didn't call Kyouka's cellphone that time. She only wanted to make sure, that she is alright. Nakajima can be free, for now.

🌂 Kyouka and Atsushi were at the same spot, Kouyou found them last? time. Atsushi was talking about something with Kyouka. Kouyou could hear some words he has spoken.

"them" "good" "will like" "kind".

And second voice also talked.

"hope" "Kyouka" "fine"

🌂 This tome, it was a talk, not a fight. Kyouka was fine. And, she really wanted to hear something from Guiding Light. Were Guiding Light hypnotizing people? Kouyou didn't know why, but she repeated that words, she told Kyouka the last time.

_________

"Listen to me, Kyōka. I know how you feel. But... some things are simply impossible. No matter how much a natural-born assassin like you seeks light... A flower that blooms in the dark can survive only within the dark. If you pursue the light, its heat will burn you up in the end."

Something soft curled around her neck. And Kouyou felt a wave of warmth.

Kindness. Appreciation. Love.

"sorry" "didn't deserve" "strong"

"Kouyou, I admire you. You are such a strong woman. I don't know if I could go through, what you had to go through. But, I think, you can open up a little... They respect you. And, I don't think, they will try to betray you again. One day, even in the deepest darkness, light will shine."

And someone pet her cheek.

[*In reality, you traced your fingers along Kouyou's manga frame.*]

_______

🌂 Kouyou returned to ADA's building with Kouyou and Atsushi. Other Port Mafia members already were there. And Kouyou really need time to think about everything.

🌂 Chuuya... was right. Reader's emotions don't feel fake. And, what was important to Kouyou, Reader didn't pity her. Perhaps, Kouyou should soften up for a bit.

🌂But, one problem remains. Kyouka. Will Reader felt kindness towards Kouyou as well? If they aren't, well, Kouyou's sympathy will disappear.

🌂 Kouyou just need to wait.

________

The union finally was established, and remains of Port Mafia permanently moved to ADA's building.

Fukuzawa and Mori were discussing with Fitzgerald about Guild joining them.

That's when Kyouka wanted to talk to Kouyou eye to eye.

"They saw my past. My parents. They hugged me."

Kouyou saw a faint smile on Kyouka's face.

"Atsushi was right. They are a good person."

When Kyouka left to help Atsushi with something, Kouyou looked up. At the Little Light.

"You... Never were a bad person, right? I am glad, that I learned about it before I could do something, that would upset Kyouka. Guiding Light, when we met... let me protect you as well."

_________

🌂 Kouyou now understand, why others wanted to meet Guiding Light. And why they want to hear more from them.

🌂 If only all of them could hear Guiding Light's voice more often.

And then, one day, the purple moon shined above Yokohama.

When you installed BSD Mayoi Inu Kaikitan

🌂 When they got access to Scout files, Kouyou immediately gave you most of her SSR Cards.

🌂 She, and some other people, who didn't get much spotlight, asked to be first, who gives you their cards. They want your attention.

"Kouyou has so many beautiful cards"

"I wish, there was SSR Kouyou Tarot Card, SR."

"I adore Chibi Kouyou from Port Mafia base."

🌂 Kouyou is planning, how she will protect you, when she got in reality.

🌂 Kouyou is interested in Japanese culture. She took some sewing lessons online. She wants to sew something for you.

🌂 Real World, if you will be near, doesn't seem so bad. Same to hope.

_______

You got another note in your inbox.

Kouyou with Sakura flowers Stamp.

"[Y/N], I hope, you are doing well. If someone is bothering you, tell me, when we met. I will deal with them accordingly. Stay safe. Kouyou Ozaki."

You smiled and opened one of the Kouyou's cards. You pet chibi sprite.

"I am doing good, Kouyou. Thanks for your concern. No one was bothering me, but, if someone do, I will tell you. I hope, we will meet."

You didn't notice, but a smile appeared on chibi Kouyou's face.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #yandere #Self-Aware Koyouou Ozaki #Ozaki Kouyou x reader #Kouyou Ozaki x reader #BSD Koyouou x reader

[everscorner]

Something In The Way You Move | The Redemption

Author’s note: I struggled writing this next instalment, and there was a lot of chopping and changing, so apologies for the late update. There’s one final part after this, and the plan is to have it out by mid-May. In terms of their apartment, this is how I pictured it but feel free to switch it up. This is only for fictional purposes only, but please don’t copy my work without my permission. Enjoy 🤎

Warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive/implied smut, bad language, couple reconciling, side chick confrontation, some relationship issues, minors DNI (let me know if I missed anything)

famous!Reader x Jude Bellingham Word count: 8k words

///

‘So, Bestie,’ Winnie starts, ‘what’s the plan? And how are we going to pull this off?’

That’s a good question: how will you break the big news to Jude? It’s been five torturous days since the positive pregnancy test and you’re yet to tell him about it. The timing just hasn’t been right, and the next bit’ll sound silly, but you’ve kept this from him because you don’t want to take the attention from him. 

His first season at Real Madrid has exceeded all your wildest expectations, and you just wanted him to celebrate it all without detracting from it with the baby news. 

Girlfriend of the Year, right?

‘To be honest, Wins, I haven’t thought about it.’ 

You’re standing in the kitchen waiting for the water in the kettle to boil and Winnie’s in the living room, her limbs stretched out on the sectional as she mindlessly browses through one of the coffee table books. 

Your best friend’s in town for work, and earlier today, she actually filmed a couple of scenes with you for the show, and that’s when you told her about the pregnancy. 

Off camera, of course. However, looking back at the moment, you regret not filming it. 

Between filming your scenes, you quietly pulled Winnie to the side and showed her the sonogram you now carry around in your bag, and her reaction was exactly what you expected it to be and more. There was squealing, excited jumping, and there were lots and lots of tears shed between the two of you. 

‘Okay, well, when do you plan to tell him?’

Tonight. You think enough time has passed and yesterday, you went to your first doctor’s appointment and confirmed that you were indeed pregnant, but despite your excitement, you kept the news from Jude because you wanted the announcement to be well thought out—special.

Also, there has been so much distance between you, you’re hoping that the baby news could be the catalyst to bring you two together because you kinda miss being close to him. 

‘I’ll be honest with you, Y/N/N, that doesn’t give us much time to plan it.’ 

Winnie makes a good point, but you’re not looking for perfection, all that matters is that he knows. 

‘Well,’ the kettle boils and you walk over to where it sits on the counter to grab it, ‘it depends on what we decide on.’

You start pouring the boiling liquid into the cups.

‘My only request is that we incorporate the sonogram.’ 

‘Wouldn’t it be cute if we could find a pair of infant football boots?’ 

It’s kinda cheesy—very cheesy, actually—but you like the idea. A lot. 

‘Yeah, that’s a good idea. We’re getting somewhere with this.’

It’s almost hard to believe that you’re standing here, plotting out a way to tell Jude that you’re expecting. 

If someone had come up to you the night you first met him and told you that in two years, you’d be standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment in Madrid, planning a pregnancy reveal, you would’ve called them a liar. 

Excuse your French, but. . . ‘Holy fuck, Wins, I’m pregnant.’ 

It’s like it’s hitting you for the first time. 

Winnie laughs, amused by your sudden realisation. ‘I can’t explain it, right? But it feels like a teen pregnancy.’ 

There’s no need for her to explain it further ‘cause you know exactly what she means. When you first saw the positive pregnancy test—you know, after your initial shock—you first panicked about how your family would react to the news. 

You had to take a moment to stop and remind yourself that even though you’re still so young, you’re more than capable of raising this child. 

With Jude’s assistance, of course.

‘Do you want to record it?’

‘Record what?’ 

You take the steaming mugs from the island and make your way over to the living room, where you place them onto the coffee table. 

‘The moment you tell him. Not for Netflix,’ she clarifies, ‘but you know, home videos or whatever.’ 

Yeah, you’re definitely keeping this one in the family. Maybe if the show gets renewed for a second season. . . but you’re jumping the gun. 

‘I want to, but’ you look around the ostentatiously decorated main living space ‘where can we put the camera? I don’t want him to see it.’ 

‘We’ll figure it out.’ 

Winnie’s composure is just what you need right now. You can always count on her to be calm in stressful situations. 

‘Is your camera charged?’

You’ll have to check. It’s been some time since you last used it. Part of your job is that you’re a part time YouTuber, it’s something you dabble in because you like filming and editing. . . all that jazz, but lately, your channel has taken the backseat. 

Why vlog this period of your life when they can catch it on Netflix when the show comes out? 

‘Come,’ Winnie shifts to make space for you on the couch. 

You take your seat next to her and by the time you settle, she’s already got her phone out, with her Pinterest open. 

‘What’s that for?’

‘Well, something’s got to inspire us.’ 

Duh. It must be the pregnancy fog. 

‘Don’t worry,’ she assures. ‘We’ve got this.’

And got this you do. A half hour and two cold teas later, there’s a plan, but this plan requires you to leave the house. 

Booooo! 

You’re not too keen on the impromptu outing, but there are baby football boots to be bought, and at least you’ll have Winnie there with you. 

‘Well, that was easy.’

You beg to differ, but whatever. 

Winnie locks her phone and sets it on the couch, ‘When’s The Boy coming home?’

You’re not sure when it started, but Winnie now refers to Jude as “The Boy” which you find to be endearing. 

Probably late. He’s out with Toby and Noah, and he mentioned something about his other teammates joining them, but you weren’t really paying attention. 

‘I’m not sure.’ 

And it’s not something you wish to discuss further because the thought fills you with dread. It’s been days since your discovery but given the circumstances, there has been no time to sit down and talk about Coralie. 

The result of that is that whenever he goes out—and he’s been going out plenty to celebrate his victorious season—you can’t help but feel anxious that he might cheat on you again. 

Surely this is no way to live. 

‘But it doesn’t matter, does it?’ you rise off of the couch and start for the bedroom. 

Naturally, Winnie’s trailing after you and you just know that this conversation is far from over. She’s persistent. 

‘It doesn’t, but I think you should ask him.’ 

She makes it sound so simple. And you guess it is simple, he is your boyfriend after all, it’s your privilege to call or text him whenever and wherever. 

‘We don’t want any surprises.’

You don’t, but if he does walk into something he’s not supposed to walk into, that’s all on him. 

‘I don’t think it’s necessary, really.’

Inside the walk-in closet, you start stripping out of your house sweats to change into something appropriate. Once upon a time, you could leave your house in your house clothes without the fear of being pasted on the MailOnline and labelled “dowdy” and “unkempt”.

But that was a long time ago.  

‘Oooh, what’s this?’

Winnie finds herself distracted by the Chloé box that’s sitting on the closet island. 

‘Oh, yeah, that’s a PR box they sent me on Monday,’ you state matter-of-factly. 

She opens it and gasps when she sees what’s inside the large box. 

‘What the. . .’ 

‘It’s crazy, right?’ 

She turns to you in utter disbelief. ‘They gifted these to you?’ 

You hum.

She grunts and confesses, ‘I’m so jealous of you right now.’ 

Twelve full sized perfumes, all gifted to you by the brand. 

You tell her to take a bottle, and of course, she’s over the moon. And it earns you the title of World’s Best Best Friend. 

‘Well, I still think you should text him,’ she states as she tests the different scents. 

And here you thought she had forgotten about that. 

‘Just so we have an idea.’ 

You don’t really want to send the text, but you don’t want to raise any alarms with your friend. Lately, things between you and Jude have been far from perfect, but you’d prefer to keep your relationship problems from the world—even if it’s Winnie and she’s your best friend. 

‘Yeah, alright.’ 

Your phone’s in the living room, so you have to leave the closet to grab it, and when you come back, Winnie’s discovered your new Chanel handbag—a gift from Jude. 

‘He bought this for you?’ 

‘Yeah,’ but you’re not trying to make a big deal of it. 

Jude bought the bag for you about a month ago. At the time, it seemed so random—his urge to buy such an expensive gift on a whim—, but after seeing those text messages, you know it was the guilt that made him do it. 

‘Lucky bitch.’

‘I’ve been telling you to bag yourself a baller,’ you tease as you take your seat on one of the ottomans. 

You: Hey, when are you coming back tonight?

You read over the text to make sure you’re not coming off as desperate. . . a nag. But whatever, the text needs to be sent, and the way he interprets it is up to him. 

He doesn’t immediately respond, but you don’t expect him to. He never does when he’s out. 

You take a final look in the mirror. You look so good, it’s almost hard to believe that the look was put together in ten minutes. And you’d take a picture to post on your story, but there’s no time for that now. 

‘You ready, Wins?’ 

She smiles, ‘Ready.’ 

‘Alright then, let’s go.’ 

///

When he did finally respond to your text, Jude said that he’d try to be home by midnight, which gave you more than enough time to prepare for the reveal. 

For her visit, Winnie will be staying at the apartment with you, but she’s gone out because she’s not pregnant and she’s actually got a life. However, she did help you set everything up for the reveal, which you appreciated because she came with all the good ideas. 

Like she suggested that you do it in your closet as opposed to the kitchen, where you had initially planned to do it, because the lighting and acoustics were better. 

And now it’s a little past eleven o’clock and you’re rewatching an old episode of your favourite series. Earlier in the night—after Winnie left—you filmed a night time routine vlog for your TikTok, which you should be working on editing, but can’t be bothered about.

Waiting for Jude to come home has reduced you to a ball of anxiety, and despite your eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute, you simply can’t make yourself fall asleep. However, one thing’s certain, no pregnancy reveal will be done tonight. 

Damn him, and damn your feelings for him.

You can’t believe he’s once again ditched you for his friends this week. It’s disrespectful at this point, but the worst part? 

You keep allowing him to get away with it. 

But what can you do, leave him? As if that’s an option for you. The love you feel for him runs so deep, you can’t bring yourself to imagine a life without him in it, especially with the baby coming. So apologies to all the feminists of the world, but your love for this man surpasses all reasoning. 

Your phone dings with a notification and you quickly grab it, hoping to find a text from him—you’ll take an incoherent drunken text at this point, anything—but instead it’s Winnie asking if he’s home yet. 

Fuck. 

You: Not yet, but soon :) 

You hope. 

She’ll never confront you about it, but you think that Winnie suspects that things aren’t good between you and Jude. The lack of calls and texts throughout the day was a dead giveaway. The two of you can’t get enough of each other, and even when you’re apart, you’re constantly updating each other one way or another so the silence was deafening.

But whatever, right? 

People across the world experience relationship problems every day. You’re not the first couple to experience this, and you’re certainly not the last. You just wish that your relationship problems weren’t because he stepped out on you. 

‘Babe?’ 

And now your mind’s playing tricks on you, because you swear you can hear him–

‘Y/N?’

Oh shit, he’s home!

You quickly reach for your phone to check the time: 11:26.

Fuck! 

In the last text you sent him almost an hour ago now, you gave him strict instructions to text you before he left the club. 

Guess he didn’t catch that text. 

‘Baby?’ he calls for you again, but his voice sounds distant, so you figure you have enough time to do what it is that you have to do.  

But you’ve got to move fast, so you clamber off of the bed, and scurry to your closet. You head straight to the camera, which you’ve carefully propped on your Louis Vuitton jewellery box, and switch it on to start recording. 

This probably isn’t the best of angles, but so long as it captures his reaction, hopefully with his face in the frame. 

‘Baaaaybeeee?’ 

His voice sounds closer now. 

‘In the closet, babe,’ you finally call back, then internally brace yourself for what’s to follow. 

With Jude, the plan was always to get married and have children, but the when was never discussed in detail. 

‘Why are you hiding in here?’ 

Some of that anxiety leaves your body at the sight of him. He’s beaming at you, so visibly happy to see you. 

‘Hiya.’

This man has seen you in all kinds of vulnerable situations, why are you so shy all of a sudden? 

As he closes the distance between you, you notice that his eyes are kinda red and glossy, the only sign of his intoxication. When he reaches you, his smile widens—if that’s even possible—and he leans forward to connect your foreheads. 

‘Hi, gorgeous.’ 

He smells of mint with the faint scent of alcohol, and a smell you can only describe as Jude on a night out. 

With your eyes shut, you deeply inhale the comforting scent, happy to have him back home. 

‘Hey, why are you hiding in here?’ he asks again, his words running into each other, the second sign. 

‘Uh, ‘cause.’

You weren’t anticipating that question, and you don’t know how to answer it. 

‘“‘Cause?”’ he chuckles. 

You hum.

‘Come here,’ he envelops you in his large and strong arms, practically suffocating you but you can’t bring yourself to tell him to release you because you’ve missed his affection and the intimacy.

You fear you’re starting to sound like a broken record. 

‘How was it?’

‘How was what?’

‘The club?’

‘Fine.’ 

And that’s all he’s willing to offer.

‘I thought you said Winnie was staying over?’ 

She is, she’s just gone to a party with the new guy she’s seeing. 

‘And you didn’t join her?’ 

‘No.’ 

You give him a half-baked explanation for why you didn’t, but all you’re thinking is how this isn’t going the way you hoped for it to go. This isn’t what the other significant others did in the videos you watched earlier.

But how do you save it?

‘Why are you asking about her?’

‘Just curious, I guess.’ 

‘Alright then,’ you fist his jacket in your hand. ‘It’s good to have you back home.’

He likes that, you know that because his heart rate picks up. Things are still a bit awkward between you, but that’s to be expected since you haven’t been talking much. 

With your arms around his neck, you press onto your toes and crane your neck to peck him on the lips. ‘And actually, babe, there’s something I want to show you.’

Jude tenses up at that, but it’s so subtle, if you weren’t in his arms, you would’ve missed it. 

‘You do?’ 

And like magic, he’s sobered up. Only a bit though. 

‘Don’t worry,’ you assure him, amused. ‘It’s nothing bad.’ 

Your assurance does nothing to ease his wound up body. 

‘Jude, relax. . . please.’ 

Still tense. Whatever, you won’t dwell on his anxiety. 

With a final peck to his lips, you step away from him and direct his attention to the island, where the football booties you went out to buy earlier are placed next to a toddler Real Madrid jersey, a positive pregnancy test—you took another one a couple of hours ago—and the sonogram.

‘Surprise,’ you say softly. 

You want to sound excited, but it just comes out dejected.

You watch as he takes it in, your heart hammering against your chest. Unfortunately for you, you only have a view of his side profile but even from this angle, you can see that his usually expressive face is perfectly still. You can’t read him, and it feels like an eternity before he turns to face you.

‘Is this for real?’ 

You nod, the lump that has found a home in your throat making it hard to speak. Your vision’s also blurred, courtesy of the tears that have pooled in your eyes. 

‘It is?’

The first tear falls. 

‘Oh, baby.’ 

Jude lifts you into his arms and squeezes all the air from your lungs. 

Man, he’s so strong. 

Then he sort of holds you like that for a long time, and the next thing you know, your neck is damp. 

‘Babe, are you. . are you crying?’ 

He denies it, but you can feel the damp spot grow with each passing second you’re in his arms. Oh goodness, he is. 

‘I think you are.’ 

‘Shut up,’ he mutters, his voice muffled. 

You giggle when he tickles you. 

His reaction’s quite the relief and it feels like a ginormous load has been lifted off your shoulders. In terms of his reaction, you weren’t sure what to expect, but this is the best reaction possible, and as he holds you, all the lingering resentment about his past transgressions are forgotten.

Eventually, he sets you down to reveal his red rimmed eyes and similarly hued nose. 

‘How far along are you?’ 

Seven weeks and three days today, according to your doctor. When Dr Hernandez told you, you couldn’t believe you were so far along and didn’t notice. 

‘That’s what, almost two months?’ 

In defence of you though, between your work and Jude’s chaotic football schedule, you’ve been out of touch with your body. 

‘Did you know?’

‘I suspected it.’ You tell him about the morning after that night when you noticed that your period was late.  ‘I wanted to tell you, but I wanted to take the test first.’

‘And why didn’t you tell me after?’ 

‘I wanted the doctor to confirm it.’ 

You’ve grown so tired of standing, so you sit on the carpeted floor of the closet, and Jude joins you, pushing the ottoman to one side so that he can lean against the island. 

‘I called Dr Morena who referred me to Dr Hernandez.’

He scowls, ‘Who’s that?’ 

‘My obstetrician.’

The scowl deepens.

You sigh, ‘The doctor who’ll care for me during the pregnancy.’

‘Oh.’ With his legs spread and stretched out before him, he pulls you into him and sets you between them. ‘And you said that Dr Morena referred you to this. . .’

‘Obstetrician.’

‘Yeah, that.’

You hum in agreement as you rest your back against his torso. 

Dr Morena is your family GP.  

There’s a silent beat then he asks, ‘So he knew before me?’

‘Winnie too,’ you turn your head so that you’re partially facing him. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Winnie knew before me?’ 

The offence is evident in his voice.

‘I had to tell her,’ you defend, but this isn’t where you want to steer the conversation. ‘She helped me set this all up.’

He grunts.

‘Are you mad at me?’ 

‘Kinda.’ 

Well, now you feel bad. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you sit up and turn to face him, maintaining eye contact as you explain, ‘Had I known it would’ve offended you, I wouldn’t have done it.’

But she was so integral in all of this, a part of you’s glad you did. . . 

‘Oh, come on, Jude.’

He’s pouting, your big baby.

‘Cheer up, will you?’ you straddle him, cupping his face to gently stroke his cheek with your thumb. ‘I’m really sorry.’

It’s about another minute of silence and avoided eye contact, and you’re about to give up and on the verge of tears when: 

‘Babe, I’m only messing with you.’ 

A quiet beat, then there’s relief, followed by loud laughter. 

‘That wasn’t funny,’ you grouse, slapping him lightly on his chest. ‘I almost cried, you know.’

‘Come here,’ he pulls you into him. 

The traces of alcohol still linger in his speech, but he’s significantly sobered up since he got home ten minutes ago. 

‘I can’t believe you’re pregnant.’ 

And you can’t remember the last time Jude was this excited about something outside of football. His reaction almost makes you wish you had waited to share the news with him on his birthday, but that wouldn’t have worked because he’ll be in Germany then with the national team for the Euros. 

‘What are you thinking?’ 

‘How the pill doesn’t work a hundred percent,’ you pull away. 

But then again, with all the jet setting you’ve been doing, you probably weren’t taking it at the same time every day. 

With a flash of his signature smile, he concurs. 

‘My knees are starting to hurt,’ you announce as you move off of his lap and back to your previous spot between his legs. 

Jude places a hand over your stomach, and with your hands over his larger ones, you move them lower to the pelvic area.

‘There.’ 

He chuckles. ‘You know, I always dreamed of being a young dad.’

You didn’t know this about him.

‘Not at twenty-one,’ he continues, ‘but you know, in my twenties.’ 

It’s comforting to know that this baby fits into his life plan. 

‘How about you?’

‘I don’t know,’ you admit after a moment of consideration.

You’re still wrapping your head around the turn your life’s taken. The WAG thing kinda blindsided you, the fame too. The craziest part of this all is that you’ve made a career of it, built an entire brand. 

‘But I’m not mad at this plot twist.’ 

‘Our kid’s a plot twist?’ he chuckles. 

You nod. ‘Clearly we weren’t paying attention in sex education.’ 

He kisses the top of your head. 

‘Dr Hernandez said that the baby’s about the size of a blueberry,’ you tell him.

It’s such a random fact, but you feel compelled to share it with him. 

‘That’s really tiny.’

‘Right?’ 

Jude keeps rubbing over the area, and you have an inkling he’ll make a habit of this. 

Some minutes pass, and then you remember that the camera’s still going, so you excuse yourself from Jude. 

‘Where’re you going?’ 

His grip is firm around your waist. 

‘I’m going to get the camera.’

He looks confused, but he releases you. On bended knees, you shuffle over to the other end of the island to quickly grab it, but you don’t stop the recording. When you get back to Jude, you find him in a daze, silently staring at the sonogram in his hand. 

‘She’s so tiny,’ he comments when you sit at your previous spot, facing him. 

‘She?’ 

Talk about wanting to be a girl dad.

‘You think the baby’s a girl?’ 

He looks up to find a camera in his face. ‘What, you think it’s a boy?’

You shrug, you haven’t actually given it much thought. ‘Well, do you think you can handle a mini me?’

He makes a face. 

‘Ah, take it back,’ you giggle. 

He takes the camera and turns the lens to you. ‘Well, now I’m asking you. Y/N, do you think Baby Bellingham’s a girl or a boy?’ 

You pause to think about it. A mini you or a mini Jude, how difficult. ‘Well, I’m going the opposite, I think Baby Bellinghamʼs a boy.’

You snuggle into him, ear pressed against his chest, camera still in your face, but you’re both in the frame. One fact people don’t know about your boyfriend is that he’s a master vlogger, and he’s actually recorded many segments for your vlogs that will never see the light of day because when it comes to Jude, you’re a shameless gatekeeper. 

‘I want to shower before bed,’ he proclaims once the recording has stopped. ‘Join me?’ 

You’ve already taken your shower, but you figure a second one wouldn’t hurt. Jude takes your hand and leads you out of the closet and into the bathroom, where you strip out of your clothes. 

‘Is it my imagination, or are your boobs getting bigger?’

Huh? 

You look down at your exposed breasts, ‘Are you joking?’

‘No, I’m not,’ with a hand on each shoulder, he turns you towards the mirror. ‘Look.’ 

You’re looking at them, but they still look the same to you, but he’s adamant. Then, in a move you deem perverted—in a good way, of course—, he cups them in his hands. 

‘What are you doing?’ At this point, you can’t contain your laughter. 

‘How are you not seeing this?’ 

He must’ve drank more than you realise, because what the fuck is this? 

‘Are you high?’ 

His face twists with disapproval, ‘No, why?’ 

‘The boobs,’ you turn to him, ‘what’s with the sudden fascination with them?’

‘I like your boobs, you know this.’ 

You do. And you like his butt. 

‘Come,’ you wrap your hand around his wrist and pull him into the shower. ‘I think you’re tired.’

And horny. 

You turn the faucet to run the water. 

As you’d imagine, not much showering is done. 

‘Careful not to wet your hair,’ you warn him, but it’s too late.

‘I don’t care,’ he says flippantly as he takes your face between his hands and leans over to kiss you. 

This is not what you came here to do. 

You’re both covered in suds. 

‘Jude, I need to rinse my body.’

‘Later,’ he mutters against your lips. 

‘Jude!’ you squeal. 

He’s such a Silly Billy when he wants to be.

You gasp into his passionate kiss when you suddenly feel the cold shower wall against your back. In a swift and slick movement, Jude trails kisses across your left shoulder and you tilt your head to one side to give him better access to your neck.

A soft moan escapes your parted lips as he sucks on the sensitive skin. 

‘Jude. . .’

You want to tell him to stop, but the hand on his naked lower back pulls him into to you. 

He hums into the kiss as his hand moves up your body to cup your boob, ‘Tonight, you’ve made me the happiest man alive.’ 

His vulnerability catches you off guard, how can you not give into him. . .

///

For breakfast this morning, you’re making honey butter toast using a recipe you found on the internet. It’s your first time making it and you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing here, but Jude saw it on Pinterest the other week and begged you to make it, so that’s what he’ll have for breakfast. 

It’s a simple enough recipe, but knowing you and your iffy cooking skills, this could either be a major success or an epic fail—nothing in the middle. If it does fail though, you’ve got the regular bacon and egg fry-up on standby. 

But only positive thoughts in this kitchen. 

You’ve got your favourite morning playlist going softly in the background, and today’s what you consider the perfect Saturday morning. The sun is fully out, and the expansive windows of the apartment allow for the natural light to pour into the space and warms it. 

You put the toast into the oven and set the timer. 

At the end of the summer, your lease for this apartment will be up, but the likelihood of you extending it has significantly shrunk with the latest development in your life. The song goes, “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Y/N with a baby carriage,” but you’ve skipped parts, so some things need to be shifted around. 

That means that the house hunting that you’ve been putting off needs to start. . . now, really. 

This is where Coralie comes in handy, but you’re not talking to her. She actually reached out to you Sunday morning to apologise for your awkward encounter at the restaurant that night. Her text read: 

Coralie: Last night, I overstepped and I’m really sorry and embarrassed by my actions. Please forgive me. 

You’re yet to respond to the text, but you don’t plan to anytime soon because you don’t accept her stupid apology. As far as you’re concerned, she’s an insignificant homewrecker. She is two-faced and vindictive and incredibly cruel for subjecting you to such humiliation. 

She laughed with you, acted like a friend when she was fucking your man behind your back for six months. 

‘Bitch,’ you mumble as you load the dishes into the wash.

But she’s not worth the time, emotions, nor the energy. So with a deep breath, you bop thoughts of her out of your mind, and move on with your day. 

Easy. 

A half hour later, breakfast is ready to be served. You’ve gone all out with this meal, and it would be an absolute shame to not take a picture to post onto your IG story. Very quickly, you snap a picture to post later, and take the food to your sleeping boyfriend before the ice-cream starts to melt. 

He’s still fast asleep, but he’s since shifted sleeping positions, and he’s hugging your pillow. 

How cute? 

When he wakes up, you expect him to be hungover and grouchy from all his boozing, and you just know he’ll play it up for attention. If there’s one thing you know about your boyfriend it’s that he dies for attention, and he simply cannot resist being babied. 

‘Wakey wakey sleepyhead.’ 

You place the heavy tray onto the bedside table, on the other side of it to avoid it getting bumped by mistake, and attempt to wake him again. 

Still, nothing. 

‘Jude,’ you mount him, peppering a million tiny kisses against the side of his pretty face. Even in his slumber, he looks perfect. ‘Come on, you got your eight hours, it’s time to wake up.’ 

He grunts, then sends you away. 

‘But I got food,’ you object with feigned sadness. 

But he doesnʼt budge. 

Alright, sweet coaxing out the window. ‘Babe, I made honey butter toast and the ice-cream’s rapidly melting. Wake up.’ 

There’s another silent beat and then, ‘What the hell is that?’ 

Of course he doesn’t remember what it is.

‘Honey butter toast,’ you repeat, as if it’ll somehow miraculously make him know what it is. ‘That bread you saw on Pinterest and begged me to make.’

He’s still clueless, but at least you’ve got his attention. Finally, with a long groan, he sits up, moving cautiously to not send you tumbling to the floor. 

‘What time is it?’

‘Ten.’ 

He cusses softly as he rubs his face. ‘I’m supposed to meet with my parents at eleven.’

You didn’t know that. 

But it’s clearly nothing pressing because he doesn’t seem fazed by the fact that he’s running late. He yawns, rubs his eyes and face some more, then turns to you—sitting comfortably on his lap—and smiles. ‘Good morning.’ 

You mirror his expression. ‘Morning. You hungry?’

‘Starving. What’s for breakfast?’

‘Here,’ you slide off his lap to take the tray and hand it to him. ‘It’s my first time making it, so be nice.’

He assesses the tray of food you’ve placed before him, then looks back up at you. ‘Nine out of ten for the presentation.’

Your brows furrow, ‘Why not ten?’ 

‘Some of the ice-cream has melted and it looks a bit sloppy.’ 

‘Yeah, and who’s fault is that?’ 

He lets out a hearty laugh, but you’re not amused by this judge. 

You climb back onto the bed, your eyes fixed on Jude as he puts the first forkful of the honey butter toast, with a little bit of the vanilla ice-cream and salted caramel sauce, into his mouth.

He chews, then he moans, his eyes widen, more chewing, and then finally, he swallows. 

This is a good reaction. 

‘You like it?’ 

‘I love it,’ he cuts another piece of the toast. ‘Ten out of ten for the taste. Did you make the ice-cream and caramel sauce yourself?’

‘Alright, Paul Hollywood.’ You grab the extra fork you had on the tray and dig in—curious about the taste—and are met with protests from Jude. ‘I just want a little taste.’ 

‘Get your own.’ 

Your bottom lip juts out, it’s your turn to pout. ‘Yeah, but I’m pregnant.’ 

With a heavy sigh, he proclaims, ‘And so it starts.’

You can’t help but laugh at his solemn tone. 

The two of you remain in bed, even after he’s finished having his breakfast, because his outing with his parents has now been postponed to two o’clock. If it were any other day, you’d join them, but you promised to accompany Winnie to the art gallery and you don’t think you can get out of it. 

Turning into your side, Jude questions, ‘Why does she have to go to the art gallery?’ 

Because she’s in her art girl era, inspired by her latest fling, an up-and-coming visual artist from Portugal. His name’s Baltasar, and they met at Coachella a couple months back, and lately, he’s all she ever talks about. You think she’s in love. 

‘A visual artist?’ 

‘Yep.’ 

‘So he’s broke?’ 

‘Hey, don’t be mean,’ you chide. 

He doesn’t care though, he thinks it’s funny. 

‘You’re such an asshole, d’you know that?’ 

‘Babe, I’m just kidding.’ 

Yeah, right. 

‘Well, she really likes him so if she mentions it to you, keep the bad jokes to yourself.’ 

‘Noted,’ his mouth connects with your cheek.

The conversation smoothly transitions from Winnie’s new boyfriend to Jobe, who’s relentlessly trying to convince his older brother to take a short trip to Ibiza before he has to report for international duty. You think it’s a great idea, a final hoorah before it gets serious again.

‘Will you come with?’

‘Ibiza sober? Count me out.’

‘I’ll drink for the both of us.’ 

‘Uh, definitely not,’ your fingers glide up and down his naked back. ‘And I think Jobe wants this to be a boy’s trip. No girlfriends.’

‘But you’re not my girlfriend.’ 

Huh? ‘I’m not?’ 

‘You recently got upgraded to baby mum.’ 

He’s an idiot. Who even laughs at their own jokes this much? Either way, you’re not going to Ibiza with them. It’s another half hour of mindless chatter before you ask,

‘What time is it?’ 

‘Early.’ 

‘Jude, I’m being serious,’ you reach blindly for your phone and find it on the other end of the bed. ‘I need to start getting ready.’ 

‘Can’t you postpone it for another day?’

‘Winnie leaves tomorrow night.’ 

But he’s not budging, and so you have to use all of your might to shove him off of you. 

Your strength leaves him shook. ‘Where’d that come from?’ 

‘It’s all those training sessions you’re paying for.’

He swells with pride—men. 

‘Will you join me?’

Jude perks up. 

‘But we’re only showering, nothing else.’ 

And he’s dejected. 

‘I’ll just sit on the side and watch.’ 

That’s fine by you. 

He follows you into the bathroom, and you think you hear him mumble something about you making it worth his while. 

///

What your gallery date conveniently forgot to mention was that Baltasar would be joining your gallery excursion. Had you known he’d be here, you would’ve asked Jude to tag along so it could be a double date or something.  

Jude: How’s it going? 🖼️

You’re miserable here, and you’re pretty sure you’re third wheeling. And look, you want to be supportive of your best friend, right? But it’s so hard to be when the guy she’s seeing’s the textbook definition of an asshole. 

You’re one pretentious comment away from faking morning sickness to get out of this. 

You: I’m having the worst time

You: The art is great, but he’s so smug 🙄

And he’s rude, so rude, and he’s determined to talk over you. 

Jude: The artist? 🎨🧑‍🎨

You: Yeah, I don’t think he likes me :/ 

And you’d actually be doing him a favour by leaving, you’d be doing you both the favour because at this point, you feel like you’re intruding and you’re starting to feel awkward. 

Jude: Well fuck him 

His text makes you chortle. 

At least Winnie’s making an effort to include you. Every now and again, she’ll ask for your opinion on certain pieces, but in the end, you just can’t do it. 

You can’t be here anymore. 

‘Hey,’ you lightly tap Winnie’s shoulder.

She turns to regard you, ‘Hey, what’s up?’

‘Can I talk to you for a second?’ 

‘Sure.’

She excuses herself from Baltasar, who’s really displeased with your intrusion, and you find a quiet corner. 

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah, everything’s fine, the art’s great, but I’m not feeling too hot.’

‘Oh no,’ her brows knit in concern, ‘is it morning sickness?’ 

She’s buying it, good. 

‘I think I’m going to head home, you know, to lie down for a couple hours.’ 

‘Yeah, alright,’ she takes your hand in hers and lightly squeezes it. 

‘But how will you get back to the apartment?’ 

You are her ride home after all. 

‘I was planning on spending the rest of the afternoon with Baltasar,’ she looks over her shoulder at him and when she looks back at you, she’s blushing, ‘but what about you? Are you fine to drive in your condition?’ 

‘It’s just a little nausea, I promise I’ll be fine.’ 

It takes a minute to convince her, but you don’t relent, and in the end, you manage to convince her. 

‘Now go,’ you nudge her towards her waiting love interest. ‘Have fun with your boyfriend–’

‘Uh, he’s not my boyfriend,’ she quickly interjects, her voice dropping to a scolding whisper. 

You smile knowingly, sure he isn’t. 

‘What makes you say he’s my boyfriend? Did he say something to you?’

‘No, but I saw the way you were looking at him,’ you shrug, ‘the way he was looking at you.’ 

Winnie’s uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden. 

‘I’ve clearly misread the situation,’ you start backing away from her. ‘But we’ll talk more about it later, okay?’

‘Promise to text me when you get home.’ 

‘I pinky promise to call you when I get home,’ you blow her a kiss. 

You wave goodbye to Baltsar, who seems pleased to see you go, and then you’re out of there. 

It’s a short drive home from the gallery, and you’re glad to be back home, but you wish Jude was here with you.

You: I miss you.

As soon as the message’s sent, you regret sending it. But you can always blame pregnancy for making you so clingy. 

You fall back onto the bed with a long exhale. What to do with your time? You could watch a movie or you could go the self-care route. 

The other day, a skincare brand sent you a few collagen face masks you’ve been dying to try. It’s one of those that melts into your skin. And since you’re on that path, you can also soak in the tub ‘cause you haven’t done that in a while. And if you’re really up to it, maybe you can do your nails. 

But first: 

You: Got home safe. Have fun with your friend ;) can’t wait to hear about it later x

Jude misses you too. He’s also still with his parents but should be home before dinner.  

You: Did you tell them about… 🫄

Jude: No. I thought we’d do it together.

That’s a good plan. 

You: Great idea. I’ll see you later, I love you x

Jude: I love you more 😘

Dinner time’s a while away, so you’ve got plenty of time to have your self-care afternoon. 

The tub is halfway full, the bubbles foaming, the steam and aroma engulfing the space when your phone notifies you that someone’s at the door. 

Your body’s sheathed by a robe, but you still feel indecent as you make your way to the door. 

The doorbell goes off a second time just before you reach the door, and when you open it, the last person you expect to find standing on the other side of it is Coralie. 

Yes, Coralie’s at your door and she looks like. . . Well, she looks like shit. 

‘Y/N,’ she forces her lips into a tight smile. ‘Hi.’ 

The shock has you frozen for a moment, but you’re quick to recover. ‘Jude’s not home.’ 

You’re curt because you want her out of your sight and you’ve left the water running in the bathroom. 

‘I know he isn’t.’

She does?

‘I’m not here to see Jude, I’m actually here to see you.’

Of course she’s here to see you. 

‘Why?’

‘‘Cause there’s so much we need to talk about, woman to woman.’ 

“Woman to woman”, what a joke? And it takes everything in you to stop your eyes from rolling. What the fuck does that even mean?

‘Can’t we schedule this for another time? I’m kinda in a rush.’

‘It won’t take long, I promise.’ 

Hell, she can’t take a hint, can she?

‘Can I come in?’

‘We can’t talk about whatever it is here?’ you tighten your grip around the door handle to stop your hand from shaking. ‘I mean, you said it yourself, it won’t take long.’

‘Yeah, but it’s weird doing it at the door, so can I come in?’

‘You’re in no position to call the shots.’ 

‘Please,’ she sounds desperate. ‘I just need ten minutes of your time, then I promise I’ll go.’ 

The more you look at her, the worse she looks. Honestly, she looks like she’s been to hell and back, and if you didn’t hate her so much, you’d feel sympathy. 

‘Ten minutes, then you have to leave.’ 

‘That’s all I ask, thank you.’

And so despite your better judgement, you step to one side to allow her into the apartment. As you shut the door, you offer her a drink.

‘I’ll have a water, thank you.’

‘We’ve got water in the fridge.’ You walk towards your bedroom to shut off the running water, ‘I’ll be with you in a moment.’ 

On the short trek, you dig your phone from your robe pocket. 

You: Coralie’s here she says she wants to talk but i’m uneasy

You shut the faucet. You quickly change out of your robe into the first clothing items you stumble upon, which are the sweats Jude was wearing earlier. They’re loosely fitting, but they’re comforting because they smell like him.

Coralie’s in the living room, bottle of water in hand, and she’s focused on something out the window. 

‘Sorry I took so long.’

Your sudden intrusion snaps her out of her reverie, ‘It’s fine.’ 

Her eyes are fixed on you as you move around the space to take your seat on the sectional, feet tucked beneath your bum. 

This is so awkward. 

‘So,’ you start, breaking the ice, ‘you said you wanted to talk?’

You heard Jude out, so it’s only fair that you hear Coralie’s side of the story. 

‘Right,’ she clears her throat. ‘I assume you know about our. . .’

‘Affair?’

She winces at your choice of words. 

‘Yeah, I do.’

‘And he told you everything?’ 

‘That you got drunk last December and hooked up? That you’ve been hooking up behind my back for the last six months?’

She sits perfectly still, but her trembling lower lip betrays her. 

‘That you were sending inappropriate texts, pictures, and videos. . .’ you continue, pleased to see her squirm in her seat. ‘Am I missing anything else?’ 

It’s only been, what? Five days since you last saw her, but in the short time span, she’s aged a decade. Coralie’s never disclosed her age, but you’ve always placed her in her late-twenties, maybe early-thirties, but today she looks well into her forties.

‘How did you find out?’

‘I saw the drunk text you sent him, what did it say again?’ you pause for dramatic effect. ‘Right, “I’m drunk and I miss you. Call me.”’ 

She’s fidgeting with the bottle in her hand, her head bowing in shame. ‘Y/N, I’m really sorry.’

‘What are you apologising for?’

‘All of it.’ She looks up at you, ‘I’m sorry that you found out the way you did.’ 

You hear her, but you’re not ready to accept her apology. Especially because she’s cutting into your self-care time with this crap. 

‘Who made the first move?’ 

‘Jude did.’

Your heart aches at the revelation, it’s like someone has driven a sharp knife into it. 

‘He was upset at you, he didn’t say why but he was really cut up about a fight you had,’ she proceeds. ‘And if it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else.’

You think you might throw up. 

‘But he was drunk, we both were, and. . .’ her voice trails. 

An uncomfortable silence descends upon the room because really, what else is there to say? 

‘Do you love him?’ 

‘Does it matter?’

It doesn’t matter, but you want to know. Let’s say it’s curiosity.

‘He’s hard not to love.’

That’s true.

‘But am I in love with him? No.’ 

Some of the tension in your shoulders eases. 

‘And he doesn’t love me either,’ and she almost sounds sad when she says that. ‘It was only ever sex between us, nothing more.’

But the texts. . . what did they mean? 

‘Nothing,’ she insists. ‘Call it harmless flirtation.’

‘Harmless?’

She flushes, ‘You know what I mean.’ 

So you now know that he was mad at you, they were both drunk, they fucked and you think Coralie regrets it, but you’re not sure. 

‘Who pursued it?’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Your. . . thing, the affair,’ it irks you to say it. 

‘Oh, Y/N, I don’t think you–’ 

‘Was it Jude?’ 

‘He loves you.’

‘I know he loves me.’ 

Coralie’s quiet which furthers your frustration at her. 

‘Did he pursue the affair?’

‘Why does it matter? It doesn’t change anything because in the end, he chose you.’ It’s like it pains her to say it. ‘He’ll always choose you.’

You nod. 

After another long and awkward silence, she professes, ‘You know, I felt awful deceiving you because you really are such a good person.’

‘Don’t start with that crap.’ 

‘No, I mean it. You’re a good person, and we were friends–’

‘We were never friends,’ you interrupt. ‘You were never my friend.’ 

You tolerated her, there’s a difference. 

‘I know you’re upset with me, and trust me, I get it, but come on,’ she persists. ‘We were friendly with each other.’ 

‘You sleep with all your friends’ boyfriends?’ 

That shuts her up. 

‘Look, Coralie, I appreciate the apology,’ you pull your phone from the sweatpants pocket to check the time and discover eight missed calls from Jude. ‘But you said you’d be here for ten minutes, and you’ve exceeded that time.’ 

‘I know, and I’m really sorry about that, but there’s one last thing I want to tell you.’ 

Your stomach twists with dread—she better not tell you that she’s pregnant. The cheating you can move past, but a child you can’t recover from. 

‘You’re pregnant?’ 

‘What?’ She looks offended that you’d even ask her that question. ‘No, I’m not pregnant.’

You sigh in relief. 

She’s not pregnant, but she did lose her job. She received the call this morning to let her know that her services were no longer required by the club. She’s certain Jude had something to do with it, so she’s here to plead with you to talk sense into him. 

‘And I meant what I said, I really am sorry for the inconvenience that I’ve caused in your life, but Y/N, I really need this job,’ she concludes. 

‘How are you so sure he had something to do with it?’ 

She shoots you an incredulous look as if to say, ‘Really?’ 

‘And if he did have something to do with it, what makes you think he’d listen to anything I have to say?’ 

‘Because you told him to end our arrangement and he did.’

‘But you said it yourself, you mean nothing to him.’ 

She flinches again. 

‘I mean, I can try to talk to him, but I can’t promise you anything.’ 

‘Thank you,’ she smiles. ‘That’s all I ask.’ 

‘Well, like I said, I have somewhere to be so–’

You don’t get to finish the sentence, ‘cause you’re cut off by a panicked Jude who storms into the apartment, followed by an equally panicked Mark. 

‘Babe?’ 

Thank the heavens he’s here.

///

You wake up in the middle of the night to find Jude’s side of the bed empty. At first you think he’s in the bathroom, but when five minutes pass and he’s not back, the panic sets in. You grab your phone off of the bedside table to check the time: 2:38. 

Where the hell is he?

You sit up and search the dark room for traces of him, but there’s nothing—only his phone on the bedside table.

It’s been hours since your confrontation with Coralie, but you’re yet to process it all. You’re still in shock at the fact that she rocked up at your door the way she did, but you’d be lying if you said the conversation wasn’t cathartic. 

‘Jude?’ 

You push the covers away and climb off of the bed. After you locate your house shoes, you set out to find him. 

His phone is here, so he shouldn’t be far. 

‘Jude?’ 

As you make your trek down the short passage, you hear soft chatter coming from the TV room. When you turn the corner, you find Jude sitting on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, feet resting on the coffee table. 

A smile takes over your face at the sight of him. 

‘Hey, you,’ he greets you as you crawl into his lap. 

‘Hi,’ you tuck your face in the crook of his neck and inhale his scent. ‘What are you watching?’ 

‘Pulp Fiction.’

Of course he is. 

‘Why’re you up?’ 

You trace patterns on his t-shirt clad chest. ‘I woke up and you weren’t in bed. I panicked.’

He tightens his arms around you, ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ you sit up. ‘This pregnancy has me acting weird.’ 

‘Yeah, blame it on the pregnancy,’ he teases. 

‘Shut up,’ you shift to straddle him. ‘Why are you sitting here alone?’

His hands settle on your waist, ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’

There’s still so much to discuss in terms of Coralie and her claims, but tonight just isn’t the time for that.

‘Do you think we’ll ever be okay again?’ 

‘Yeah,’ he takes your mouth into a deep kiss. 

‘Come to bed with me,’ you whisper against his lips, moaning when he slips a hand between you, teasing his fingers through your slick folds. 

‘I don’t think we’ll make it to bed.’ 

///

Tagged:

@luv4bellingham

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham scenario #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #Jude Bellingham one shot #Jude Bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fanfiction #Jude Bellingham scenarios

[helvegen-s]

Rage, rage | one

Prologue

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: PTSD, description of injuries, bad language, the King of hybern (jumpscare), if there is anything more, please let me know.

A/N: so here it is, the first part. I really hope you enjoy it and that you get to love Nimue just as much as I do. Any kind of support is greatly appreciated! 🥰

Standing in the middle of that enormous training ground, Nimue counted the scars on her hands one by one: first her left hand, tracing each one with her right thumb; then her right hand, tracing each one with her left thumb. It had become a ritual, something that anchored her back to the physical world, slowly pulling her away from her daydreams.

Once again, she felt the weight of her body on her own bones, on her own muscles. A couple of deep breaths, and with the short sword in her hand, she began the series of exercises again. The same series of exercises as yesterday, the day before, and for the last twenty years.

Twenty years in which Nimue had grown accustomed to her new life. New, because she knew she had always been there, inside the Cauldron, and against her will those hands had torn her away from her place, her home. She had ended up in Hybern, locked in a castle and with a princess title she didn't know where it came from, as she shared no genetic bond with the man who called himself her father, the King of Hybern.

The King of Hybern, who with the Cauldron in his hands and desperate to conceive a powerful heir, had submerged his poor and naive concubine in the poisonous water of the Cauldron. The woman, pregnant with the king's offspring and terrified of disobeying the cruel king's orders, obeyed.

Thus, the liquid of the Cauldron separated skin from muscle, muscle from tendon, tendon from bone, and the poor woman who screamed dissolved like salt in water. Before the eyes of the entire court, the King had burned one of his concubines alive, and in return, a young girl had emerged from the Cauldron. Nimue, The Radiant, the daughter of the king, created by the Cauldron.

Nimue knew all this because in the depths of her bones, and only when she let her guard down, she felt the despair of her mother when she was submerged. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could feel her own muscles dissolving, melting, the bones crunching and bursting, the muffled screams, the life of the poor woman extinguishing.

That only filled her with rage. A rage that boiled inside her, in every fiber of her being. Sometimes she let it grow, let it spread through every drop of her blood, like poison disguised in wine: she shaped it to her liking, gave it the form she wanted. She shaped her rage into swords, laying waste to entire legions with her rage, burning entire forests with her rage...

One could only imagine that in the face of such destruction, her "father" would be angry. No one wanted a daughter who killed hundreds of soldiers every time she trained. However, the reaction was completely opposite: a smile, some congratulations, a pat on the back, a kiss on the forehead, a small hug...

Small displays of affection that Nimue drank as if she were dying of thirst. After all, he was her "father".

Children are meant to make their parents proud. Or that's what she told herself every night before falling asleep.

She stopped abruptly before finishing her last set of exercises and looked up.

Above her, in the corridor surrounding that enclosed training ground, courtiers of her father, guards, servants, people who stopped to admire her if they had the time, kept passing by. Sometimes they made comments about the natural grace with which her movements seemed to defy gravity itself. Every gesture of hers was fluid and harmonious, as if she were in perfect harmony with the universe around her. It was so, because after all, the world around her had come from the Cauldron. And she was the Cauldron.

Sometimes, however, they made comments about the monster the King had created. An aberration.

With a flick of her wrist, her weapon disappeared into the air, she spun around, and left that training ground. She walked through the halls of the Palace, navigating intersections and crossing doors until she reached the very center of her home. The great stone cavern where the throne was situated. Even before entering, she could hear the voice of the King, and without entering the room, she listened.

"My patience is running out, filthy rats. If you don't know how to do your job, I'll have you thrown to the nagas, and let them do whatever they please with you, you pack of useless scoundrels."

Nimue entered the cavern, her gaze forward and her chin high, those airs of superiority she knew belonged to her. She walked among those present, who made way for her, feeling the hairs on their necks stand at attention in the presence of the princess. With a determined step, she approached her father, who only raised and lowered his eyebrows in response.

"What's the problem, father?" Oh, that mask of innocent girl that many swallowed. She might even dare say that sometimes, the King himself took her for naive, for innocent. When she was anything but, far from it.

She carefully observed the situation: before her father, and kneeling before the steps of the throne, were four of the six spies she knew her father had designated in Prythian, specifically in the Night Court. Among them, two bodies completely mutilated, almost unrecognizable. However, Nimue recognized them as the other two spies that were missing. She lifted her head and let the smell of blood penetrate her nose, savoring it on her palate. That's when she noticed the slightest hint of cedar and mist. She frowned and looked at her father.

"It's nothing, my sweet child. I'm just dealing with these useless ones," the King turned sharply towards those men, who, under the scrutiny of father and daughter, only sank deeper into their shame. With their heads bowed to the ground, they trembled so much that Nimue could hear the chatter of their teeth. "Do your job and find out everything. Everything. And if you have to kill that petty High Lord, you will."

Nimue did everything to hide her smile. She knew those four useless men stood no chance against that High Lord her father spoke of. She knew, because in the Cauldron, she saw the shadow of Rhysand: a vast pit, as deep as the greatest of lakes, and as black as darkness itself, so dark that Nimue saw her own scarlet eyes reflected in it.

By the Mother, Nimue doubted if her own father, without the aid of the Cauldron, would be a match for that vast darkness that undulated within High Lord Rhysand.

The King raised his hand, and with a gesture, all those present in the throne room bowed respectfully and left the without a word.

Nimue turned, ready to leave, but the King pointed at her and shook his finger. With the same hand, he made a gesture, as if pulling on a leash.

A leash that Nimue had worn around her neck since she had been torn from the Cauldron, and whose end her father held, with an iron grip. It was invisible, but when she even thought about how happy it would make her to leave the confines of the Palace, to see the world, she felt its weight around her neck, as if the King was her executioner and the leash his axe.

"Yes, father?" Her tone, completely compliant, made a fleeting smile cross the King's face.

"You will fight for me in this war, won't you, my dear?" he asked, voice so poisonous she almost gagged. Nimue felt her blood boil, her rage consuming her. "You will fight for me and win for me. I will release you onto the battlefield and you will descend upon them like rain upon dry earth. You will sow the fields with their blood, because that's what I've made you for, my Radiant jewel."

The marks of her nails digging into her palms turned into wounds, and when her magic closed them, she clenched her fists again, reopening them.

"Yes, father. I will be your weapon."

She felt the leash loosen, and with a pleased smile on his face, her father gave her permission to leave.

When she was out of the King's sight, Nimue imagined the thousand ways she would slit that old, rotten man's throat.

Azriel let out a sigh, his own breath forming clouds in front of his face.

What was that pressure in his chest? Where was all that irrational rage coming from, burning his chest and taking his breath away?

His shadows swirled around his shoulders, buzzing and whispering to each other.

He did everything he could, searching in the depths of his being for the calm he needed at that moment.

Yes, rage, rage. We are furious.

Yes, that's it, furious.

Azriel clicked his tongue and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the incessant fluctuations of his shadows. He seemed like a horse shaking itself to get rid of the flies that tormented it so much.

"What's troubling you?" Cassian asked. A playful smile on his face while his gaze was fixed on some point in the city spread out before them. "It seems like your shadows are giving you a hard time."

"Never," Azriel replied without hesitation. He sighed again, rubbing his chest with one hand, right where that pressure seemed like it was about to pierce his body. "I feel like hitting something, someone. But it's not my desire, it feels strange."

Cassian burst into laughter as he leaned on the balcony rail. He closed his eyes for a moment, sinking into that brief moment of peace and enjoying the sunlight, before turning to look at his lifelong brother.

"I think we should call Madja. The spirit of Amren seems to have gotten into you and we'll have to get rid of it before you start giving us all dirty looks," he said, with a serious expression all of a sudden.

Azriel looked at him, raising an eyebrow and then sighing, ignoring the usual delusions of the Illyrian.

Both let the topic pass when they heard footsteps coming from inside the house. Cassian crossed the balcony threshold first, and while Azriel enjoyed a few last seconds of calm and sunshine before going back inside, he felt a pain in the palms of his hands. Stabbing, throbbing.

How strange, it had been a long time since the old scars on his hands had caused him sudden discomfort.

He would ask Madja for some ointment.

Because that's what it was, right?

As Cassian and Morrigan's voices echoed in the dining room, Azriel continued to prolong that moment of stability as much as he could. He felt like he was on the edge of a precipice, about to take a step forward without looking at what lay beyond. So as long as he could, he would enjoy those rays of sunshine, that scent of home, those views of the city they were rebuilding after Hybern's attack, hearing his friends laugh, and knowing that this was his place.

He went over the plan day and night since he and his family had conceived it: arrive, enter, break the Cauldron, and get out of there before the King even realized that they had snuck in.

It was perfect. There were variables, of course, but for the hundreds of unforeseen events Azriel had imagined, hundreds of solutions had been devised. It was perfect, and he trusted the plan.

But he felt so out of sorts...

Rage, it consumes us. It burns us.

Rage, rage.

It wasn't him, it wasn't his rage. He felt his own skin, his body, filled with emotions that weren't his. Like a container of some chemical mixture about to explode.

By the Mother, maybe he had eaten something strange at yesterday's dinner. Or perhaps it was the wine afterward, or maybe the countless drinks that followed at Rita's...

Because that's what it was, right?

#azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar fic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian #rhysand #azriek x female!reader

[spicyclover]

You betrayed me

Summary : I played dumb but I always knew. I kept quiet so I could keep you. You betrayed me, and I know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt.

Hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know in the comment section.

Thank you! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

He’s sticking a knife in my heart. I can't breathe. It is fucking insane. Eight months of this bullshit. Eight months, and I was fucking blind. I should have known it was all a lie. All the little touches, all the little words of love, all the caresses. Fuck I’m stupid. Eight months in a relationship with this asshole. I played dumb but I always knew.

"I'm sorry," sobs Lando through my bedroom door. "It's fuck up." His hand tries for the hundred time to open the door without success. "Let's talk baby, you're overreacting."

"You fucking lie to me, you make me believe thing and I'm overreacting?" I explode in anger. How dare he put it on my fault? "I'm a dare. You realize it is fuck up!"

"I know." I push him out of my way and head for the kitchen. "Let me explain..."

"Explain?" I turn around and my eyes meet his. At that moment, I feel only pity for this asshole. Pity, because he's only a shameless dog. "Do. Enlighten me, Lando."

Lando’s eyes fall to the ground. He no longer dares to look at me and his tears flow. I can’t believe it. He stabs me in the back, and he's the one crying. The last few months come to mind. Our first meet, his eagerness to go out together. This mania to leave me on read until he deigns to give me his attention again. Him refusing to meet my parents or him refusing that I come to his house. The many parties we spent apart because he didn’t want his friends to know we were together. What a hell-hole shit, that scumbag.

"You were a dare. Yes, and I am sorry. I feel terrible because the more time I spent with you and the more I realize you are amazing."

"Not amazing enough for you to settle for me though." You whisper with bitterness between your teeth. His hands tries to cope my face but I slam them down. "DON'T fucking touch me."

He raises his hand in defeat and continues. "I can't settle, not right now. I can't." More tears fall from his cheeks.

"Why are you crying Norris?" I ask, gritting my teeth. "YOU DON'T GET TO FUCKING CRY." This time I yell. I can't take this anymore. I need to walk. I’m starting to walk around the kitchen. I’m thinking about this situation, a why. I know I’m never gonna have the real reason why he hurt me. I turn and turn like a lion in its cage. The pain rises and the anger boils. I want to slap him, to shout the worst, yet I am unable to form coherent sentences in my mouth. "You're sick. You disgust me."

"I'm sorry..."

"STOP! FUCKING SAY I'M SORRY. YOU'RE NOT." As I leave my body, I see the plate on the counter end up in my hand and the next second explode against the wall behind this traitor. "You betrayed me, Lando. And I know damn well that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt."

Lando raises his face that he hid at the impact of the plate next to him and he turns to me bewildered. Yet he seems to be cut off. His reaction doesn’t come. He’s just looking me. I must look crazy. I’m wearing one of his oversize t-shirt, we’re in the middle of the night, and my hair is pissed. My eyes are swollen and I’m breathing loudly. I want him out of my sight, out of my life.

"Get out." I said without emotion in my voice. He doesn't move. His stare is still on me and I can't. I'm going to be sick. "GET OUT!" He jumps and looks around. He finally reacts. He takes a few steps towards the door.

"All this" He pauses, searching his words. "It wasn't meant to hurt you..."

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 sad #f1 hurt #sad #breakup

[aiura-stan]

I love the idea that Teruhashi might be thinking this. (I know she isn’t Teruhashi, but still.) It’s so outright aggressive and mean, instead of her more low key “Saiki should be obsessed with me!” thoughts as in canon proper, lol.

Also notable that the first mention of Saiki being markedly different from other people is here: “If a normal person heard them he would undoubtedly have a mental breakdown after three seconds.” Maybe it’s true, probably an exaggeration on Saiki’s part, but it definitely highlights that what he deals with, mentally, is on another level, and he is able to deal with it.

LMAO. this one made me laugh… it’s like yikyak but worse!! like yikyak but including things people wouldn’t even say on there, read out loud… phewww.

Saiki says his powers are “in the wrong” rather than peoples’ thoughts. However, the way he words the second part about how you can’t dress up what’s on the inside strikes me as odd. I was trying to think of the reasoning behind this sort of sentiment that Saiki expresses here, because it repeats later in the manga proper. And I think, it boils down to this incorrect assumption he has, that people’s thoughts are their true feelings. My guess on where comes from is probably either Kuniharu or Kuusuke, who both express a lot of resentment for him. In each of their cases, that really is how they feel, and they make no effort to change it, and there’s not a lot of positive emotion thrown in there either. At least as a child, Kuusuke spent a lot of time actively trying to hurt his brother. And Kuniharu probably did too, if we take all of the examples of him trying to get “revenge” on Kusuo into account.

So it never occurs to him at first that people might have intrusive thoughts, or have thoughts they don’t necessarily believe pass through their heads, or thoughts they ultimately challenge and thoughts that directly contradict their behavior.

Okay angsty rant over lol

‘nother thing that strikes me as funny, not in a good way this time… really now. I have never met a girl who was that jealous of another girl’s boobs. If anything, I’ve met girls who got them too young and wished they hadn’t because of teasing.

Maybe it’s a cultural difference, maybe it’s the fact that a male author wrote this who doesn’t really know (or care) about accurately depicting teenage girls’ concerns in a comedy… anyways.

I beg to differ Saiki… that IS an incredible tattoo and I want to see it… I want that tattoo.. haha. And who cares if some people are bald?? and trans people exist?? Saiki likes to complain about things that do not matter at all. I guess he probably feels like it’s a burden to keep other people’s secrets, or something. He is just a teenager after all.

tbh I kind of wish that Asou had kept this if only for dramatic effect

come on… look at this…

Sigh. I love examples of Saiki interfering with fate just to help someone.

Okay, that’ll do it for part one of this post. Part two in a bit. 💕

#anyways I really need to get back to studying lol #read-saiki #I hope you don’t mind me joining in nopsi #I have been meaning to reread Saiki k for a while and this is a great excuse to #meta #read-saiki 0-0

[sourlove]

Kingpin ~ Part III of 'Street Rat' YANDERE BAKUGO KATSUKI

TW: OBSESSION, KIDNAPPING, YANDERE THEMES, MENTIONED GANG ACTIVITIES, MENTIONED MURDER, MENTIONED BLACKMAIL

READ PART 1 HERE

READ PART 2 HERE

(Female reader) (Mild NSFW)

Bakugo Katsuki was a force of nature. When Eijiro met him, Katsuki was an angry scrap of a boy who everyone thought was going to get himself killed with his attitude. But he didn't.

Despite having a rough start in life, he managed to join a small time gang on the outskirts of the city and fought his way, literally and figuratively, to the top. Eijiro was proud to stand next to Katsuki as his best friend and right hand man. He thought he knew everything about the man, from what made him angry (everything) to how he liked his coffee (black, boiling hot). Eijiro did know everything about Katsuki.

Everything, except you.

You were a wildcard nobody expected. When Katsuki ordered an attack on a wedding of all things, nobody questioned him. When he forcefully silenced all the guests in attendance with blackmail, everyone dismissed it as standard procedure. But when he brutally slaughtered the groom and showed up with the bride in his arms, it definitely raised some eyebrows.

From the moment you woke up at their base, you had done nothing but cause trouble. You would throw tantrums, destroy furniture and torment everybody who was unfortunate enough to approach. You were beautiful, sure, but clearly batshit insane and everybody tried to steer clear of you as much as they possibly could.

That's why it was so It was off-putting how nice Katsuki was to you. Eijiro had watched his boss rip out a man's tongue and feed it to his dogs because the man had called him called him weak. Now, you could hurl every insult under the sun at him and Katsuki would pat your head with an indulgent smile. You spoke like everyone was beneath you, sometimes barking out orders to the men who would stop and stare in confusion. Until Katsuki showed up.

"The fuck are you dipshits looking at? Did she fucking stutter?"

It was pretty clear that Katsuki worshipped the ground you walked on. And Eijiro supported that, he really did! Being so unashamedly in love, especially in their line of business, was pretty manly. He only had a real problem with how you treated Katsuki like trash. Even as a rookie on the streets, he was never one to take orders from anyone. But he jumped through flaming hoops to spoil you, just for his gifts to be thrown back in his face.

Literally. That was your favorite form of attack and your favorite victim seemed to be the man who would kill someone for you. Sure there was that little issue of Katsuki actually killing your very new husband, but couldn't you see that he was doing his best to make up for it?

Now, Eijiro wasn't the brightest crayon in the box but even he knew that the relationship between the two of you might not be the healthiest. So as the best bro he had to ask Katsuki, preferably when you weren't there. Though that proved to be very difficult (why did you go everywhere with the man if you couldn't stand him?!), Eijiro managed to slip into Katsuki's office when you went to bed and Katsuki wanted to get some work done.

"Hey Boss! Long time, no see, huh?"

The ashy blonde eyed him suspiciously. "I saw you an hour ago, Shitty Hair. You on drugs?" He turned back to his paperwork with a huff.

Eijiro laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I mean, sure I always see you, but...you're always with her."

It was only years of being in close proximity with the Kingpin himself, that alerted Eijiro to the fact that he had just acquired a shovel and was about to start digging his own grave. Katsuki calmly dropped his pen and steepled his fingers over the papers he was working on. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

The redhead gulped. "Nothing! There's absolutely nothing wrong with your relationship. Okay, good talk! Bye!" He stood up to escape.

"Sit down."

Eijiro sat down. Katsuki sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "You know, she's the only reason I'm where I am today."

"...what?"

"Look, Y/N, she-she was the prettiest girl I ever set my eyes on." He reclined into his seat, looking off thoughtfully into the distance. "Everyone wanted her but no one deserved her, not even me." Katsuki chuckled ruefully. "I always thought I had no chance, until she gave me one. And I'm obviously not a fucking idiot so I took it."

Eijiro frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Look around, Shitty Hair," he gestured to his office. "Do you think I give a fuck about all this fancy shit? It's all for her. Everything I have, everything I am, is all for Y/N."

"Bro, that's like, romantic but also a bit concerning. Everything you have? That's like...everything!"

Katsuki scowled at him. "Yeah no shit, dumbass. I'm gonna marry that girl."

"Woah, bro," Eijiro sniffled. "You're so manly! I totally respect your decision now, even though everyone said you were as crazy as her!"

"What the fuck did you just say?! Oi, Shitty Hair! Get back here, fucking coward!"

Katsuki growled as the annoying idiot who called himself a friend scurried away. He glanced outside and noted the dark sky, before packing up his remaining paperwork and hurrying out of his office. The few goons that saw Katsuki only received a grunt in return of their greetings before the boss flew off, leaving them wondering where he was rushing to.

Or who he was rushing to. When Katsuki carefully opened the door, you were stretched across the bed, fast asleep. He smiled and quickly took of his clothes, before slipping into bed next to you. While Katsuki enjoyed Y/N at any time, he especially enjoyed you when you was sleeping. Then, he could admire as much as he wanted without any disturbance.

He stroked a finger down your cheek and bit his lip. Once a distant dream, you were so soft and warm laying beside him. Now, he could also touch you as much as he wanted. And this time, you let him.

You woke up to the feeling of Katsuki's stubble scratching you as he mouthed hungrily at your neck. Rough, calloused hands tugged at your nightgown and squeezed your soft flesh.

"Noo, get off" you whined, half-asleep. "Still sore..."

He chuckled lowly. "My bad, baby. I'll be gentle this time."

You pouted as he nipped at your collarbone. "Liar. You're always so mean-ah!" His hands ripped your nightgown down the middle, finally growing impatient, and Katsuki grinned wickedly.

"Hmm, you say that now," he cooed. "But you love it, don'tcha? So be a good girl and spread your legs for me, sweets~"

A/N: This has been requested a lot and shown so much love! Its insane how I only started posting a couple of days ago and I already have so much support. Leave an ask if you want to see some side stories or headcanons!

Please leave a like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed. Go ahead and give yourself a kiss on the cheek for being so amazing xxx

@darious @ssplague @justabratsworld @pinkrose1422 @slayfics

#obsessive love #obsessive yandere #yandere #fanfic #yandere boyfriend #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #writers on tumblr #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo katsuki #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere katsuki x reader #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere x #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x female reader

[creedslove]

hiii CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE A COCKWARMING HEADCANON WITH DAVE??? OMGGG OR JAVI, well I dont think javi would be patient enough hahah but I really dave and OMG PIKE WOULD LOVE IT😭😭😭😭 I didnt even know I had that kink just for my Pedro boys only ofc🥺 ily your series qnd your personality, im glad I follow you really, te amooo

Dave York x f!reader

A/N: omg bestie I love all the options really, but I had to go with Dave, our murder daddy just hits different, doesn't he? He is the one who needs some special loving, ❤️👁️🫦👁️

• you knew Dave well enough to figure out when a mission had been a success or when it hadn't gone well. Technically, all his missions were a success when he came home alive and you were very much thankful for that, but still, sometimes he found problems in the way, such as collateral damage or if he simply got hurt

• Dave tried his best not to bring work home, he knew it wasn't healthy, he liked his home a lighthearted place, full of love and good feelings and not a dead body count over his shoulders, but still there were days he was darker than usual, silent and keeping so much to himself and that was exactly when you knew you had to act

"hey darling"

• you'd approach him quietly, seeing Dave relaxing in the armchair, suit still on, tie hanging loose over his neck and a few unbuttoned places on his shirt, knowing it would catch his attention immediately: Dave was a traditional man, he liked his woman smelling good for him, wearing cute slutty outfits at home, hair looking good and it wouldn't hurt to have some lipstick occasionally

"hey baby girl, I missed you"

• your tired Dave would purr at the same time he would extend his arm towards you and pull you closer to him, already knowing exactly what he wanted and needed, he loved how damn sexy and beautiful you were for him, he constantly thought of how undeserving he was of you, but screw it: he'd learned to be selfish so he was keeping you all for himself

• as you'd come closer and straddle him, you finally saw the bruise on his face and that made your blood boil under your skin: your Dave was so handsome, how dare whoever the asshole who caused that bruise to do that? It was so unfair, but you calmed down, feeling your man's warmth and breathing underneath you, he was alive, which meant whoever was responsible for bruising him was now not only dead but probably beyond recognition

• it shouldn't bother you, but it didn't, life wasn't fair at all, and if you were blessed enough to have Dave, then it was other people's loss anyway

• you lifted the hem of your dress as you sat on his lap; panties were not needed at that moment, only your intimacy and hunger for each other, so you felt strong, gripping hands around your waist at the same time he pulled you for a kiss, a heated on, and in less than you could think of, you were both already making out as teenagers, undressing, squeezing, kissing, nibbling and touching

• Dave's thick fingers went to your sensitive core, spreading your lips apart gently, digits searching for your sweetness as he made sure you were ready, soon enough, he lifted you up and helped you take him entire inside of you

• and so you stayed there, his cock twitching patiently inside of your warm, slippery cunt, while you rested your foreheads together, exchanging kisses, words, and promises, there was no rush in the world, it was the closest he'd ever been to a human being, and it happened to you, because there was no one he would love more than yourself

• eventually, you two would begin moving again, until you found the bliss in each other's arms and body, Dave loved you more than anything in the world, for the most part of his life, he was seen as a monster, but he was no monster to you

• to you, his baby girl, he was just your Dave, the love of your life and your sweet, sweet hitman 💕

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x y/n #dave york fanfiction #dave york fanfic #dave york headcanon #dave york headcanons

[static-symphony-fm]

Is this thing on? 📞

Totally love playing into people’s themes for their little ask bit it’s a hobby of mine 🤭🤭 idc if it’s cringe it’s a fun time but hiyaaaaa babes I had an idea for Jason for my own writing but I cannot physically bring myself to write it so I thought I’d pass it on to someone who might want to do it and do it justice (only if you want absolutely no pressure) 🫶🫶

Like a child of Ares who when they get really angry (the whole genetic anger issues shit he just randomly gave to his kids?? What’s up with that anyway) they get really angry and they just kinda gravitate towards Jason, they just know where he is, it’s like a sixth sense, a spider sense, a sparky sense if you will (do not encourage me) but he just knows how to calm them down? Just holds their hand or something like that and grounds them?

I dunno how to explain but that’s all! Hope you have/had a great day (I don’t even know roughly what time zone you’re in 😭) and please don’t feel rushed or pressured to do this 🫶

this took so long for 354 words im so sorry also i hate the ending

 we're dancing in this world alone

you had been sword fighting with some cocky kid from the hermes cabin, and he’d managed to both disarm you and steal your camp necklace within the span of five seconds. the way he’d dangled the beads from his nimble fingers above you as you got up, combined with that goddamn smirk… red-hot embarrassment had flared in your cheeks. you did not like to be humiliated. 

“give it.” you’d snapped, reaching out to grab your necklace back. but he’d only smiled wider, holding it above your reach. 

“not until you admit that just because your daddy’s big and strong doesn’t mean you’re a good fighter.” he says mockingly, and gods, you wanted to kill him. anger bubbled up in you like a pot on the stove about to boil over, and you turned and stomped off as he laughed at you. how dare he embarrass you? you wanted to strangle him.

where were you going? you didn’t know, but you were marching through the woods like you were trying to get somewhere more specific than just “away”.

 it wasn't clear to you where your destination was until your eyes followed the stark white marble columns up to the carved eagle motif of cabin one, distant thunder rumbling in the distance like you were being judged for even standing in front of it.  of course. jason. he was who you needed right now.  

the guy in question pushes the door open and sees you standing there. his brow furrowed under the frames of his glasses. “are you alright?” 

“no. just… come here.” 

he tentatively takes a couple of steps toward you, reaching out his hand like he would to a scared animal.  you grab his hand with both of yours, and you swear you can feel the anger dissipating, like clouds parting. it’s slow, but effective. after a couple of seconds where neither of you speak, he breaks the silence.

“what happened?”

you explained the whole situation, having to take pauses in between to curse out the kid under your breath while jason listens attentively. 

“i’m just glad i’m not the one you're mad at.”

#d.j. robin's corner! 💐🎧🎙📻 #live caller! ☎❤ #jason grace #jason grace x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader

[sideprince]

I've seen the same post a hundred times now. Sometimes it's a few days old, sometimes it's from years ago, but it's always the same. Some anti posts about how they don't understand how anyone can like Snape because he was so awful, and then there's a long reply that goes something like, "imagine this happens to you, and then this, and then this" to describe Snape's experience. Sometimes there's some James Potter hate thrown in.

Look. You can go through describing a character's entire experience but you don't really need to. Here's the thing that antis don't understand:

For all her faults (and they're big, bigoted ones) Rowling understood a really integral part of the human experience and conveyed it through Snape. Everyone needs love and to feel accepted. It's that simple. Snape became a Death Eater to seek acceptance (Rowling has confirmed this, though I can't remember the source - whoever wants to add it please do), because it was the only way he could find any.

Snape's understanding of morality, like everyone's, is subjective. Some readers understand this and some don't. When faced against a morality that says there is good and bad in the world, everyone makes choices based on their personal experience. Context is everything. Someone who experiences pain and suffering will not see the person inflicting it on them as moral. That's it. 'How can this person be good when they caused me so much suffering?' = human psychology. Most of the people who think 'I'm a bad person and deserve this' have been gaslit and abused into thinking so, because it's not a natural reaction - it's one that has to often be socialized into someone at a young age, exactly because it's not natural. Everyone is the hero of their own story; no one sees themselves as a villain, because they see the valid aspects of their own perspective.

You can write essays on how vulnerable people needing acceptance is what cults and fascists exploit to recruit vulnerable people, or on how the standard anti's un-nuanced reading of Snape both ignores canon and displays a disturbing lack of empathy or compassion, but at its core it just boils down to context. From Snape's perspective he experienced cruelty, therefore the people inflicting it must be cruel. Again, it's that simple. He was a person, like any other, except he was fictional so he wasn't even real. On the flip side is James Potter, who, for all his faults, didn't get to live long enough to get a chance to change and grow unlike Snape, and I think the Snapedom also needs to acknowledge that.

They're fictional characters representing things an author wants to say, not sports teams, not martyrs, and not all good or all bad emblems that define your identity depending on how you feel about them. It's depressing how much time is wasted arguing with bullies and trolls whether from the Marauders fandom or just random antis. I literally can't find more than three blogs to follow without this argument coming across my feed daily. I know the Snapedom is Not OK™ and that's kind why we're all here, and I know that my take is super unpopular but like Snape, I don't care what others think: this fandom has been having the exact same argument for years and nothing has changed. There's fanart and meta and fic and so much content out there appreciating this character, you're not going to change an anti's mind who's deliberately trolling in the tags, so why are you trying? What are you getting out of it? What does it give you? It's exhausting just scrolling past it.

#The thing about morality is that it's subjective #the religious leader who's a beacon of moral purity to their congregation #is a source of selfishness and pain to someone they abuse in secret #is that abuse victim immoral for rejecting the values the religious leader represents? #the congregation might think so because their definition of morality relies on the religious leader being a moral guide #the victim might not think so though because how can something be righteous if it causes suffering #look this is just an example of how perspectives can vary and I know there are more possible takes on that example #my point is that the idea that there's no clear 'good' and 'evil' there's only power/what you do with it is actually how psychology works #'good' to one person can be pain to another #'scourgify' is an innocuous household spell that cleans stains until it's used to waterboard someone #context matters more than labels like 'light' and 'dark' magic

[crescentpaws]

i think fintan’s main motivation(s) can be boiled down to:

- “the ends justify the means” — knows what he’s doing (the murdering people) is wrong but believes it’s for the greater good of the elvin world. if people get in his way he must eliminate them; it’s nothing personal it’s just the easiest and quickest way to remove obstacles (like what happened with cyrah… in that case the starstones/elysian being kept a secret was more important to him than her living)

- in the case that he DOES enjoy murdering people though, i think it would be because it gives him a sense of control, which is something he probably hasn’t experienced since the pyrokinesis ban. i think this would apply to all his other crimes too….. over-indulging in the self-expression he was previously denied due to the ban (and especially since suppressing an ability seems to be extremely difficult, and he was forced to do that for centuries, all the arson would probably feel cathartic) sort of a “fuck you, you can’t control me anymore” vibe. this is why he’s always up front taking part in all his big schemes instead of hiding in the shadows and making the other neverseen members do it. he needs to control everything. (plus in stellarlune sophie mentions that his emotions are likely to be all over the place, which stina says will only make them stronger and easier for her to read. and we know elemental abilities (pyrokinesis especially) are influenced by emotions, so of course the more his mind deteriorates the harder it will be for him to control his ability. he probably knows this, which is why he’s being so destructive all at once. he wants to feel a sense of control while he still can)

- similar to the previous point but not quite the same: he craves the power and respect he used to have as a councillor. he went from beloved world leader to Most Hated Guy On Earth ™ in one night, and i’m sure that wasn’t an easy transition. we know he’s tired of being treated like shit because of his ability, especially because he used to be so loved. he is going to do whatever it takes to make sure people still recognize him as a powerful figure. he is going to scream and bite and leave claw marks on everything he touches because he will not let this opportunity slip through his fingers again. he will not be cast away and forgotten!! not this time!!!!! prime example of “if i can’t be respected, then i will be feared”

and then there’s the good old fashioned revenge

#anyway i think he’s very silly #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fintan #fintan pyren #kotlc headcanons

[cipheramnesia]

Dr. Stevenson would have had to take Athena when she was a very young child. Maybe four years old, give or take. It could happen so many ways but it would have been so very easy for her to put just a little pressure on one or two people to have CPS take custody of the girl. This is all just a dream, and Athena's whole life after that is one neutral colored room after another with a slightly different ergonomic office chair every few years, and her only solid memory to hold on to is a reflection of light off water. Sand and water, surrounded by big trees with branches all bent heavy and green. A half open, half broken rusty gate clinging onto a couple concrete pillars long bereft of their accompanying wall. Athena would hold onto that for dear life, treasure any little sliver of color from a light blue hoodie to a cheap pair of headband bunny ears to blue and yellow rain-boots. They would have accumulated over the years of the taped on monitors, blood draws, urine samples, hair clippings, annual spinal tap.

Sometimes she'd go days without food, or her room temperature would swing from frigid to boiling, then the big orderly and the phlebotomist with Dr. Stevenson's sharp voice over them all would come in. "Be careful," she'd snap out, slapping off hands that gripped too tight, never once spoken out of love or even empathy. "Don't damage her, we don't know if we'll ever find another one." The concern only spoke of a rare and treasured object, perhaps a Cartier wind up music box. The others calmed her like an animal, "easy girl, just a moment and it's over." Sometimes when there was a new phlebotomist, Athena got a small piece of candy. She never had the same one more than a few months. She'd try to savor the hard lollipop or drop of chocolate and ignore the sound of Dr. Stevenson through the hollow doors, "This subject is on a specialized diet to ensure consistency of results, you are not to bring any such personal items-" and it went on.

Learning math and reading and writing after a fashion, information provided by Dr. Stevenson with grudging irritation, but once in awhile short and tantalizing sidepaths of the personal. "These sides are you, much like you and the light, you control both sides with the shared information. Oh, nevermind. Figure it out yourself." Athena would never know what kind of a monstrosity Dr. Stevenson was building from her blood and their studies, only the day that something went terribly wrong, and Dr. Stevenson didn't come to see her anymore. The time she'd showed the room the light and it hurt Dr. Stevenson, she still came back a few days later, but this time she left and Dr. White started taking care of her. He was much nicer, but wouldn't let her have her room in the dark, and did not think all the work Dr. Stevenson had been doing was very interesting. Sometimes he would talk about Dr. Stevenson's huge promotion with a sure bitterness. He showed up with a younger girl he called Alice.

#girl bites god #long post

[prythiansfavoritefox]

[ COMFORT ] 🪷 Elain 🪷

Lucien could not take it anymore. Bottling up all of his problems inside was killing him. He hated himself, he hated his life, he hated his fucking job. He hated that no matter what he did, Tamlin seemed to be so far out of his reach. The last time they'd spoken, Tamlin had given him a black eye. Cauldron boil him, he'd tried not to retaliate, but...something in him had just snapped. Everything that had happened to him over the past several months had just spilled over, and he'd set a driving punch straight into Tamlin's abdomen. Then he tunneled so deep down into that rage that he hadn't even noticed his fire swirling around him as he absolutely pummeled Tamlin. He had burned most of Tamlin's clothes off, and little burn marks peppered his skin. His own clothes, woven with magic fire-resistant cloth from Autumn, remained intact.

Lucien had known that whatever progress he might have made with Tamlin was undone the moment he had punched back. So frustrating-so unbelievably frustrating to have to deal with a broken High Lord and his court, yet no one cared. Feyre hadn't even asked about his eye. Not like Lucien had offered the information; he didn't trust Feyre or the Inner Circle as far as he could throw them. With information, he had no choice. But his feelings? He could keep them to himself and spare himself the hurt.

When he was in his small house in Velaris safely in bed, he let himself cry. Why had his life come to this? What had he done in a previous life to deserve this? Who was he kidding, playing emissary to the Night Court? He didn't belong here any more than he belonged in Spring. Gods, he missed Autumn. He didn't think that was something he'd ever say, but at least Beron had mostly left him alone. He was free to pursue his education, free to make friends amongst the gentry, free to practice his sword and read books and whatever else he was interested in. He loved being busy and visiting other courts, but considering a big part of his work was babysitting a miserable man who had in the latter stages of their relationship become abusive towards him, it was safe to say he'd much rather being doing anything else.

Sigh. He could probably do a ten times better job of ruling than any of these fools, but alas, he was stuck in this weak role of emissary, disrespected by all who associated with him. Not even his mate cared for him.

By the Cauldron, he missed Jesminda. The only person who had ever cared for him, chosen him.

At some point while crying, he fell asleep. Something tugged in his gut, and he found himself watching himself sitting beside a pond, bare feet dipped in the water, and next to him sat a stunningly beautiful brunette. Elain. His Elain. His mate who did not want him-

Lucien, she whispered quietly. This is just a dream, Lucien told himself, but it did not feel that way. No, that tug on his gut was very real.

She was wearing a long ruffled lavender dress with a pretty straw hat on her head. She held a matching basket, but when Lucien looked inside, there were only worms. Lucien jumped back.

"The Night Court gardens' soil is very poor, so I bred some ground worms to help replenish the nutrients," Elain said matter-of-factly, like she hadn't just said the most shocking thing ever. Lucien gaped at her. "You actually bred...?"

"Yes!" Elain said brightly. Then she gently put a hand on his shoulder, her big eyes full of concern. "You seem upset. Is there something wrong?"

Lucien snorted, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "As if you care if something is wrong."

"Of course I care," Elain said insistently. "You are my mate."

"Do not condescend to me," Lucien replied sharply. "I know such things mean nothing to humans."

"But I am no human anymore," Elain said, trying to reach for Lucien's body again. He pulled away again, and he almost regret it looking at the hurt that formed in her doe-brown eyes. But she avoided him like the plague in daylight; was he wrong to return the favor?

"But you still adhere to the human culture and rules," Lucien pointed out.

"It doesn't matter what I adhere to!" Elain shouted exasperatedly. "It doesn't matter how much I tell myself the mating bond means nothing, when I cannot breathe every time you are near. It doesn't matter how much I resent it, how much I feel is the bond and how much is me, when all I can think of when you are close to me are thoughts improper for a lady."

Lucien blinked, heat creeping up in his face as he recalled the absolutely filthy thoughts in her mind as he'd tugged on the bond that one afternoon.

"Fine," Lucien muttered. "It was Tamlin. He's being grumpy and uncooperative. I know he's hurting, but goddamnit, he has hurt me. And Spring has to be up and running soon, else the land is ripe for the taking."

Elain tilted her head curiously. "Is that really all?" Lucien sighed, shaking his head. "No, that was just a culmination of all my frustrations thus far."

"I thought so," Elain answered quietly. "You bottle up your feelings when you are hurt. Throw yourself into your tasks instead rather than wallow about it or engage in self-destructive behavior."

Lucien blinked at her in surprise. "You have been watching me."

"Of course I've been watching you," Elain said as if it were obvious. "How could I not? But also...I understand. You and I are the same in that right, I suppose."

Lucien didn't know what possessed him to do such a thing, but he crawled forward and laid his head on Elain's lap. She looked down at him and smiled serenely, stroking his hair, his cheek, his chin. Then she bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Rest darling," Elain said sweetly. "No one can hurt you here." She continued to stroke him gently as his eyes drifted off, and the rest of his sleep was deep and pleasant.

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #elain archeron #pro elain archeron #elucien #pro elucien