#just. so eh. with current day pop

[pansyfemme]

at the end of the day i am a whore for pop music. just none of the pop you’re thinking of

#like just bc im specific and listen to obscure stuff doesnt mean twee jangle and power dont all still have ‘pop’ stuck to the end of them #and like i really love 60’s and 70’s mainstream pop #even 90’s and early 2000’s stuff is pretty good #just. so eh. with current day pop #but i love the niche stuff tho

[sthavoc]

🎶 📷∫ *.۰𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐘𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

𖥔 ࣪˖ pairing: enzo x actress!reader

���� ࣪˖ summary: after the event enzo and you attended, the both of you had agreed to hang out. today is the day. part 2 to this.

𖥔 ࣪˖ warnings: just fluff

𖥔 ࣪˖ note: it was asked for a pt2 so here y’all go! also working on another req currently, yay!!<3 hope I didn’t miss any grammar mistakes

Enzo and you had been texting back, and forth for the past two days. Those two days have consisted of you smiling at your phone and letting loose a giggle at whatever silly joke Enzo would text. You had brought up how you guys agreed to hang out, and he mentioned that today he was free, which worked for you because to your advantage, so were you.

Te mando mi dirección? - you

Sí, sí. Pasó por tu casa más o menos como a las 12:00, y de ahí nos vamos.” - Enzo

Bueno, dale. - you

After you send your location, you receive another ding from your phone followed by Enzo’s response. Which said “Gracias, linda.” The little nickname had stuck with you ever since the event, and you were not going to lie and say that you didn’t like it because you did.

You left your phone on your coffee table and walked over to your closet, ready to try and pick something out. You hoped it wouldn’t take you that long to pick an outfit. Of course, you wanted to look presentable, but you also didn’t want to be overdressed for the occasion. After all it was just a small hang out as friends.

You shouldn’t be thinking so hard on an outfit. You thought.

You ended up choosing a pair of baggy jeans and a simple shirt. Your hand reached for your phone to check if Enzo had sent anything in the meantime but your texts were cleared.

You had been done with your hair and faint makeup when you heard your phone ring, and you saw how Enzo’s contact popped up.

“Hello?” You spoke into the other line.

“Hola nena, eh, estoy afuera ya.” Enzo’s voice comes from the other line making you remove your phone from your ear and check the time.

“Oh! Okay, okay. Ya voy.” You state before you hang up the call, and quickly clasp your bag and phone before you close the door of your room, and hurry downstairs.

“I’ll see you later preciosa.” You give your cat a small rub on the bottom of her chin making her purr, before you grab your keys and walk towards the door locking it.

You checked your phone and answered a couple of texts as you walked towards the front where Enzo waited. You could see him standing there looking at his phone. He wore a hoodie and a jacket over it with a pair of glasses and black jeans, getting a glimpse of his camera as well. You were not going to deny he looked good.

“Hola.” You greet him with a smile as he puts his phone away, and you can see a smile instantly spreading across his face.

“Hola, bonita.” He kisses your cheek greeting you. “Lista?”

“Mhm.” your response was followed by a nod while the two of you began to walk towards your car, unlocking it. “¿En dónde queda la disquera?” You unlock your car allowing the two of you in.

“Te mando la ubicación.” Enzo typed the location on his phone before he sent it to you making your phone ringed.

You opened the location, which immediately opened in your touchscreen from the Bluetooth connection from your phone. You clicked start as you began to drive away.

“¿Te gustaría poner algún tipo de música?” You turned to look at both sides before you got on the road.

“Eh, bueno.” You gave Enzo your cable while he plugged it in, selecting a song. The speakers on your car began to play Lucky by Radiohead.

“Oh, ¿escuchas Radiohead?” You glanced at him but kept your eyes on the road.

“Sí es mi banda favorita.” Enzo words followed a smile as he turned to look at you. “¿Tú escuchas Radiohead?”

“Sí pero no mucho.” You reply turning right as indicated on the map.

It said that you would reach your destination around 12:40. It was currently 12:27.

“¿Que te gusta escuchar a vos?” Enzo decides to ask, out of conversation. He honestly wanted to know more about you, and your taste in music.

“Pues-” you sigh “Pues me gusta escuchar un poco de todo. Pero los artistas que más escucho son, Harry Styles, The smiths, Pixies, Arctic Monkeys, eh Taylor swift, G-eazy.” You tapped your thumb on the staring wheel trying to remember some of your top artist.

“¿G-eazy?” Confusion filled Enzo’s voice. “¿Es una banda?”

You giggled at how clueless he was about who G-eazy was. “No, es un artista muy popular últimamente. Bueno siempre lo ha sido. Lo fue en el año 2014 pero la gente lo trajo de vuelta.”

“Ah, ya, ya.” He nods.

“Te pongo una si quieres.” You turned to look at him, and he nodded giving you his phone. “Te voy a poner una popular.” You came to a red light and quickly typed on his keyboard the name of the song before you tapped on it.

Tumblr Girls started playing. It was honestly a vibe with the atmosphere, with the windows down and the wind sending your free strands of hair everywhere. Enzo’s hair was going everywhere but not as much as yours.

“Bonito ritmo.” Enzo moves his head to the beat of the song as he kept his eyes on the road. “Me gusta.”

“Verdad.” You smiled before you glanced at the map and noticed you guys weren’t that far from your destination. Like two more minutes away. “Ya casi llegamos.” You mentioned.

Enzo only nodded as he looked out the window still vibing to the rhythm, before he spoke. “Me da vibras de verano, no se.”

“¡Sí! Por eso se hizo viral de nuevo. A la gente le gusta la vibra que transmite su música. Esa vibra de verano, y pues, porque les da nostalgia a los años como el 2014 o ‘16.” You explained as Enzo payed attention.

He seemed so interested in whatever you had to say about the artist. He honestly just liked the sound of your voice. Anything you were saying at the moment sounded so interesting coming from you.

“Wow, pues sí las da.” Enzo released a small laugh making you smile. He has such a pretty laugh you thought.

“Bueno pues creo que aquí me parqueo.” You glimpse at the free spot that was not too far from the record store. Your eyes skimmed at the store and you could already see some of the vinyls.

The both of you got out of your car after you locked it, and walked together into the store. Your eyes looked around the shop amazed, at the posters that covered the walls and even some records, hanging on the walls. You caught a glimpse of Enzo taking pictures of the background.

Until he got an idea and turned to look at you. You gave him an amazed smile as you realized he was taking a picture of you.

“Acordate que te iba a tomar fotos.” He reminds you of when you mentioned of him taking a few shots of you.

“Sí me acuerdo.” You giggled.

You walked over to the many types of vinyls. You scanned the genres until you came across Mazzy Star’s So Tonight That I See record. You turned to look at Enzo who only stared at you. “¿Me tomas una foto? yo tapándome la cara con el disco. Siempre me he querido tomar alguna foto así.” You smiled.

Enzo only smiled as he got ready to take the picture after you positioned the vinyl, and covering your face. “Listo nena.”

“Gracias.” You smiled putting back the vinyl in its place before you got an idea and turned to look at Enzo with a smirk. “Déjame tomarte una.”

“No, no. No te preocupes.” He shook his head and hand at the same time.

“Ay ándale. Es tu cámara, y te quiero tomar una.” You insisted, pulling him closer as you walked backwards before he gave you a smile.

“Bueno , dale.” He remove the strap off his neck, handing you his cámara as you smiled excitedly. “Pero que no salga mal.”

“Ay, para nada.” You frowned jokingly. There was no way this man would come out back in his picture. “Bueno. Uno, dos, y-” you dragged the last syllable as you waited to get the perfect angle and moment. “Tres.” You clicked the button hearing the click sound of the cámara capturing the picture. “De seguro saliste bien.” You give him back his camera, followed by a smile which he returned.

“Gracias.” He places the strap that held onto his camera around his neck again, while the two of you continue to walk around the store.

You reached another end of the records finding one of Lana Del Rey’s album. You immediately grabbed it, deciding you were taking it home. Enzo followed behind you, but you had no idea he had just taken another picture of you since you were distracted with the vinyls. You spotted another one from The Neighbourhood which was the album Hard To Imagine The Neighbourhood Ever Changing, you just had to get it.

“¿Artistas favoritos?” Enzo questions as he looked at the records in your hands.

“Mhm. Siempre que trato de encontrarlos no están.” You glimpsed at them before looking at Enzo.

The two of you continued to walk around the whole store trying to find more vinyls, but you didn’t find any wanted, apart from the ones you had already previously picked. Enzo proceeded to take pictures of anything interesting he spotted.

“Bueno pues voy a ir a pagar. Me puedes esperar afuera si quieres.” You searched into your bag and took hold of your wallet as you walked towards the cashier.

“Bueno.” Enzo nodded as he walked towards the entrance of the store and you towards the cashier.

While you paid, Enzo waited right outside the shop while he took a few glimpses of his phone. He was quick to put it away after he saw you walking out of the store with a bag, which he assumed had your new albums.

“Gracias por recomendarme la tienda.” You smiled, unlocking the car and allowing the both of you in.

“No hay de que, linda.” Enzo gave you a smile as he closed his door and reached for his seatbelt. “De verdad que me la pasé muy bien con vos.”

“Y yo contigo. Eres muy divertido Enzo.” You smiled as you changed your gear shift from parking to driving.

Enzo was really a sweetheart and an amazing person. He had such a pure soul and he made you feel calm with just his presence. This man was definitely going to become one of your closest friends.

#enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic fic #enzo vogrincic blurb #enzo vogrincic imagine #enzo vogrincic one shot #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic x you

[alwaysmicado]

Sunshine

6.7k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 7

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, alcohol & painkillers, a little kiss, lots of sarcasm, angst, jealousy (reader would never!) Summary: A spontaneous meeting in a bar lays bare some uncomfortable truths. A/N: Why be sad when you can just turn off your feelings and not be sad anymore? It’s so easy. /s I can't tell you how much your messages about this series mean to me!! I love talking to you about it and I appreciate your enthusiasm and support soooo much!! Enjoy this part and let me know your thoughts! 🤍

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The Birds Don’t Sing, They Screech in Pain

– Werner Herzog

– – –

You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart. The world is a joke and nothing you do matters.

And you got a great ass. 

So fuck it.

You close the mirror cabinet and look at your reflection. The steam from your recent shower lingers in the air, creating a hazy atmosphere around you. With a determined gaze, you meet your own eyes, trying to convince yourself of what you so desperately want to believe. 

You. Don’t. Have. Feelings. 

Sighing exasperatedly, you leave the bathroom to go get dressed. You eye the empty space on the wall where the mirror used to hang in passing and can’t help but smile sardonically at the clean floor below. Who knew you had such a talent for cleaning blood? 

If your current job doesn’t work out in the long run, crime scene cleaner could be a viable alternative.

You rummage through your drawer for a fresh pair of panties, a soft bralette without any bothersome hooks, and a flowy dress you can easily pull over your head. Comfort is key today. Your morning shower proved tricky enough, but you managed somehow, maneuvering very ungracefully to keep your injured hand dry. 

Thankfully, you were smart enough to go to bed early last night and get up in time this morning, allowing you ample time to change the bandages and dress yourself with just one functional hand.

Exhaustion still lingers in every single one of your bones, but you’re determined to not let it get you down. Not again. So, you pour yourself a cup of strong coffee, sit outside on your balcony, pop the painkillers you got at the emergency clinic on Sunday, and browse the internet for a new mirror.

The sun kissing your skin feels nice, and the fresh air invigorates your senses. There’s even a flock of birds doing their choreographed dance in the sky. Just for you. You’re living in a goddamn dream, aren’t you? 

You scoff, down the rest of your coffee, cough when it goes down the wrong pipe, and go back inside once you don’t feel like you’re choking to death anymore. It’s time for work.

Your boss graciously let you work from home on Monday and Tuesday, but since there’s an important meeting scheduled this morning, she’s asked you to come to the office today. The meds should get you through the day, you’ll just have to figure out how to do your job effectively without the ability to type with your right hand.

You could try to push some of your workload onto the new intern who’s been unsuccessfully trying to flirt with you for the past month, but he strikes you as the type to show up with flowers and a teddy bear after you compliment his sneakers once — it’s probably not the best idea to entertain him.

An office romance sounds hot on paper, but your job is the only halfway stable thing in your life, so you don’t want to mess it up for some guy. Especially if said guy looks young enough to get carded in bars.

Why can’t you just not need money and not have to go to work at all? Is that really too much to ask? 

“Get your shit together,” you murmur to yourself as you grab your bag, your keys, and quickly check your appearance in the bathroom mirror. Eh, you look fine considering the messed-up past few days you had. The black wrist brace is kind of derpy—you can already see Kristen giggling at it and very much not believing any excuse you invent for it—but the smile you force onto your face looks virtually natural. 

What a little sunshine you are. 

Sandals on your feet, sunglasses sitting on your nose, wireless earbuds in your ears, your top three songs of the week on a blissful loop, you start your walk to the office. Nothing bad can touch you when the rhythm of your favorite beats courses through your veins, encapsulating you in an invincible cocoon.

For the first few minutes at least.

Your pulse quickens and your chest tightens as the gas station, where Joel could barely wait to pull out of you before gushing about his date, comes into view. And of course, Chris, the clerk, steps outside right as you pass it to inexplicably water the two withered plants next to the entrance.

You attempt to speed walk, hoping to avoid an embarrassing encounter, but where’s the fun in that, right? Sure enough, you hear him calling after you.

You roll your eyes behind your glasses and reluctantly stop, pulling out one of your earbuds as you turn to face him. His eyes fixate on the black brace around your wrist.

“What happened to your hand? Too much fun on the weekend?” he asks, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

You sigh, not in the mood for a detailed conversation, and also very much aware of what he’s probably insinuating. “Just a little accident at home,” you reply, keeping it vague. “Don’t do yoga if you’re drunk.”

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.” When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, he’s nice enough to not keep you any longer. “Well, I hope it heals soon. And let me know if you, uh, need anything. You know where to find me.”

You nod, offering a polite smile, and continue on your way, reinserting the earbud to drown out the world. You turn up the volume, lip-sync, and ignore Joel’s call without missing a beat.

– – –

“Please, tell me. Please, please, please. Come on…you know you’re gonna tell me eventually, so let’s just save us some time and get it over with. You know I can keep a secret.”

As expected, Kristen is very intrigued by your wrist brace. In fact, she has been switching between begging for you to tell her what happened and coming up with some outlandish theories since you sat down at your desk four hours ago. To nobody’s surprise, they all involve some sort of sex accident. 

It’s kind of funny, though, that none of the elaborate stories she imagines come close to capturing the absurdity of your reality. Oh well, you’re used to it by now. And yet, there’s no way in hell you’re going to divulge one of your most vulnerable and embarrassing moments to her. Not a chance. 

“I already told you,” you say without stopping your one-handed typing. “I got drunk watching The Bachelor and then my genius brain decided that was the perfect moment to try out some new yoga positions. It’s a miracle I only sprained my wrist and didn’t break my neck.” You put on your most convincing smile and look at her. “It’s embarrassing as shit, okay? I mean, look at this thing,” you point at your injured hand. “I look like a kid who fell off a swing on the playground.”

Kristen giggles and is about to say something, but right at that moment, she receives a phone call from a client. She sighs, narrows her eyes, and mouths, “This is not over.” You wink at her and go back to typing with your left hand, occasionally swearing under your breath when you hit the wrong keys. This is all so much fun. 

The rest of the day goes by in a blur of emails, phone calls, bad coffee, painkillers, Kristen putting a heart sticker on your wrist brace, another meeting, and your phone lighting up with new messages from Joel. 

By 5:30 p.m. your brain is about to explode, so you decide to call it a day and leave. There’s a frozen pizza waiting for you at home and you can hear your pajamas and sofa calling your name. Sweet, sweet solitude; it’s so close you can feel it. You just have to walk out fast eno–

“Drinks.”

“Did you seriously just hide behind that plant and jump out?” you chuckle, and Kristen’s grin tells you that is absolutely, one hundred percent what just happened. 

“Drinks,” she repeats. And when you open your mouth, she says it again, but this time she gives you her most adorable pout.

“Okay, okay,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes. “You can stop the puppy routine.”

“I love how easy you are,” she beams at you and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Let’s go!”

The warmth of the summer evening envelops you both as you step outside. The sun, still casting its golden hues across the city, paints the urban landscape with a vibrant palette. Kristen, with a fancy sun hat perched on her head that perfectly complements her black hair, looks for bars near you on her phone.

As you try to decide on a bar, the balmy air carries the distant sounds of the city’s summer symphony. The occasional laughter from a nearby cafe mingles with the hum of traffic, creating a lively backdrop to your anticipation.

Amidst the ambient noise, your phone buzzes with Tommy’s name flashing on the screen. You answer, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hi Tommy.”

“Hi honey,” Tommy’s voice comes through, the background noise indicating he’s at a lively place. “Just calling to ask how you’re doing today.”

“You know you don’t need to call me every day to ask me that, right?” you chuckle, still unable to understand why he even cares. You don’t deserve him.

“Come on, it’s the highlight of my day,” he says in mock offense, and you can perfectly picture the grin on his face. 

“Well, if it’s that important to you…” you say, a smile on your lips. “I’m good. My friend and I are going for drinks. Just need to decide on a bar first.”

“What a perfect coincidence! I’m at this new place right now. They got great burgers and drinks, even non-alcoholic stuff,” he tells you excitedly. “Oh and Joel’s here, too.”

Your heart skips a beat at Tommy’s words. Joel is there, at the same place. The thought of seeing him again stirs a concoction of emotions within you — longing, uncertainty, and a subtle yearning for things to be okay. There’s an undeniable pull. You miss him.

As you take a moment to think of your answer, Kristen mouths, “Who’s that?”

“It’s my friend, and he’s inviting us to join him at a bar,” you explain to her.

Tommy’s voice perks up on the phone, “Come on, it’ll be a blast. The more, the merrier!”

You look at Kristen questioningly, and she gives you two thumbs up and a big smile. 

You sigh and look up at the sky. There’s a big bird chasing a smaller one. “Okay, we’re in,” you say to Tommy, and his excited shouts in your ear make you giggle. He sends you the location and you immediately order an Uber for you and Kristen. You don’t have to wait for long.

Sitting in the car, your initial, albeit reluctant, excitement has turned into annoyance as the hands of the clock seem to move at an agonizingly slow pace. What was supposed to be a ten-minute journey has stretched into an interminable thirty minutes, courtesy of the unrelenting rush hour traffic. 

The air inside the car feels stifling, even with the AC humming, and the incessant chatter about football between the driver and Kristen becomes an indistinct drone. Your lack of interest in the sport combines with the whirlwind in your head, making their conversation an incomprehensible blur.

As your stomach churns, a sense of queasiness settles over you, intensifying the already uncomfortable ride.

By the time you make it to the bar, you’re tired, cranky, and wish you had just gone home after work. You could be lying on your sofa right now, stuffing your face with pizza, watching Netflix, and testing your new vibrator before falling asleep in your soft bed. But no, you just had to be social, hm?

As you enter the crowded and lively bar, the buzz of upbeat chatter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic thump of music surrounds you. Everyone’s loud and happy, and you’re just not in the right mood for it. Slowly making your way through the sea of faces with Kristen trailing behind, you spot Tommy seated in a cozy booth.

The mere sight of him puts you at ease — for about a second, that is.

Your eyes fall onto Joel and the woman who’s casually touching his shoulder, comfortably nestled against the plush cushioned seats. You’ve never seen her before, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist or even a sober brain to figure out who she is. What is she whispering into his ear now? He’s laughing. You can see his eye crinkles from where you’re standing.

The sight is like a punch to your gut.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place, and the urge to turn around and run away grips you. Unwelcome emotions and memories surge back, catching you off guard and leaving you breathless. Just as you contemplate an escape route, Tommy spots you from across the room, his face lighting up. 

“Sweetheart,” he shouts, rising from his seat and waving enthusiastically. His excited shout draws the attention of everyone around him, including Joel. Your eyes lock, and for a brief moment, the world around you fades. The corners of his lips instinctively turn upwards as he looks at you, but after spotting your wrist brace and the pained look on your face, he furrows his brow.

What the hell happened to you?

In the blink of an eye, you flip a switch in your brain, put on the most radiant smile you can muster, straighten your shoulders and cross the room. Joel’s concerned eyes don’t leave you for a second.

“There she is,” Tommy says, genuine warmth in his voice as he leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek, followed by a tight, comforting hug. “It’s so good to see you.” 

“You too, Tommy,” you murmur, a sense of momentary relief washing over you in the wake of his presence.

He pulls away from the hug, extending his greeting to Kristen, before introducing you both to the beautiful brunette sitting next to his brother. Draping his arm around your shoulders, he tells you with a smile that, “This is Jan, an old school friend of mine. We actually didn’t plan this whole meeting with everyone, somehow we just all ended up here. Funny coincidence,” he chuckles and you strain the muscles around your mouth so hard it hurts.  

“It’s nice to meet you, Jan,” you say, reaching out to shake her hand. She reciprocates your greeting and gives you a charming smile. 

“And I don’t need to introduce you to this guy, huh?” Tommy grins, squeezing your shoulder.

Your gaze shifts to Joel, who’s caught in the limbo of whether to remain seated or stand up, so he ends up awkwardly half-standing, caged in the narrow space between the bench and table.

“Hi, Joel,” you say, your eyes lacking their usual vivacity—a detail not lost on him.

He settles back into his seat, audibly clearing his throat. “Hi, darlin’.”

He studies your face as you settle down beside Tommy. You look as beautiful and glowing as always, but the longer he looks, the more cracks in the carefully put up facade he can see. Your smile isn’t genuine, your eyes look a bit swollen—like you’ve been crying or not sleeping well—and your body language screams unease.

The others may not notice, but he does. Because he knows you.

Kristen takes a seat beside Jan, seamlessly weaving herself into the ongoing conversation with Joel. Her ability to navigate social dynamics with such ease leaves you marveling – how is she so good at this? Her charm extends, connecting the trio in animated small talk.

Your body eases into a semblance of relaxation as Tommy pulls you closer and presses a kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers into your hair, a tender reassurance that brings a sense of solace.

Sitting up straight, you return his smile, gratitude evident in your eyes. “Thanks to you.”

Tommy beams at you, momentarily lost in the exchange, before redirecting his attention to the group. “Are you guys ready for a first round of drinks?” he asks, the unison response from everyone echoing with enthusiasm, a collective “yes” that adds a burst of energy to the already vibrant atmosphere. 

– – –

After three rounds of drinks (you very responsibly decided to change to coke after one mojito), burgers, nachos, sharing the epic tale of how you managed to hurt your hand doing yoga, Jan gossiping about the guy her adult daughter brought home last week, Tommy sharing hilarious stories from his and Joel’s workplace, and everyone seemingly having loads of fun, you let yourself relax a bit.

It’s nice witnessing Joel’s laughter and enjoyment. A warmth spreads through your heart at the sight, a flicker of happiness for him. Yet, the subtle discomfort lingers as Jan’s touch becomes a constant presence on his arm. Rationalizing it as a casual gesture during conversation and under the influence of drinks doesn’t fully erase the twinge of unease settling within you.

But you can handle it, you convince yourself.

Until you can’t. 

You can’t handle it when Jan’s hand finds its way to Joel’s thigh and her lips brush the shell of his ear.

You glance at Joel, searching for a reaction, a flicker of discomfort perhaps, but his response is subtle. A shift in his seat, a movement so slight it could be mistaken for a casual adjustment, yet there’s a discernible change in his demeanor. It’s a momentary pause, a beat in the rhythm of the evening.

The weight of the scene bears down on you, and you feel a pang of vulnerability, a subtle ache in your chest. In that split second, a mix of emotions surges within you – a tinge of hurt, a brush of jealousy, and a sting of betrayal.

Emotions you haven’t felt in years. Emotions you have sworn to yourself you’d never feel again.

Why does it bother you so much? Is it because it reminds you of how you touched him, how you ran your hand further and further up his thigh when he was taking you home for the first time, teasing him until he couldn’t take it anymore, pulled his car over and fucked you in the driver’s seat? Has she done that with him? Is she as addictive as you are?

This close to a full-blown panic attack, you jump up from your seat to the surprise of everyone at your table. You make brief eye contact with Kristen, who shoots you a sympathetic look. 

Excusing yourself, you navigate through the bustling crowd towards the restrooms, located downstairs and accessible via a staircase. There are three separate spacious restrooms, and you choose the first one. Inside, you immediately head to the sink, running your left hand under cold water. The sensation helps to calm you down.

Closing your eyes, you take deep breaths, reassuring yourself that it’s not a big deal, and that it’s exactly what it was always meant to be—probably even for the best.

Then, as you try to find composure, a knock on the door interrupts your thoughts.

“Occupied!” you yell in response to the knock, and then you hear Joel’s deep voice saying, “It’s me.” 

Of course it is.

You sigh exasperatedly and shuffle to the door to let him in. Joel enters, swiftly locking the door behind him.

“There’s two other restrooms, you know,” you murmur as you walk back to the sink and divert your attention to your reflection in the mirror, concentrating on fixing your hair. 

“Yeah, well, I specifically want the one with you in it,” he says with a little smirk, his eyes searching for yours in the mirror. As your gaze meets his, he’s taken aback by the lack of the usual sparkle that used to light up your eyes at the sight of him. The absence of that adoration he’s grown accustomed to leaves a void, and a tinge of concern creeps into his expression.

“Hey,” he says tentatively, his voice softer than before. “Are you okay, darlin’?”

You look at him, and the weariness in your eyes doesn’t escape his attention. There’s a distant quality to your gaze, and it sends a pang of worry through him. The connection he once felt in your eyes seems to have dimmed, and he can’t help but feel a sense of loss.

It’s the same expression you had when he last saw you. He hates it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you respond, putting on your fake smile again, but the lack of conviction in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel’s concern deepens as he steps closer, the teasing smirk replaced by genuine worry. “I’ve been trying to reach you, but you haven’t responded to any of my texts or calls.” He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, his brow furrowed. “I was worried something happened, and—he points at your injured hand—my feeling was right.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “What happened?”

You turn around and lean against the sink, holding your right arm with your left hand, your eyes revealing a complex mixture of emotions. “I told you already,” you say nonchalantly. “Getting drunk and trying to do elaborate yoga poses is a dumb idea if you’re as clumsy as me.”

Joel raises his eyebrows, not believing a word you’re saying. “That’s not all, is it?”

“What do you mean?” you say, feigning ignorance.

“You don’t seem like yourself and I’m…worried about you.” Joel’s concern etches lines on his forehead as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes, usually warm and comforting, narrow slightly as he studies your seemingly cheerful facade.

“But this is myself.” You point at your smiley face with your left hand and tilt your head. “You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head, a subtle sigh escaping him. “That’s not what I said. I just feel like something’s off.”

“Is it because I’m happy?”

“It’s because I don’t believe you’re happy. I know you too well, baby.”

You scoff, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I’m happy? Do you want me to be miserable?”

“No, sweetheart. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be happy. But you’re lying to my face right now and I don’t appreciate that.”

You turn your head to avoid his gaze, your silence speaking volumes, your hand tightly gripping the flesh of your arm as if to contain the emotional turmoil threatening to spill over.

Stop it.

“Darlin’,” Joel says gently, closing the physical gap between you two, and reaching out to place his warm palms on your shoulders. “Look at me.”

A shiver runs down your spine and tiny goosebumps instantly form on your skin. You’ve missed his touch more than you care to admit — to yourself or to him. His touch is tender, a plea for connection, but you hesitate. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, revealing the deep sadness you tried to conceal.

What happened to you? Whatever it was, it breaks his heart that he wasn’t there to protect you.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks softly.

“Not everything’s about you, Joel.”

“I know that. I just…wish you would let me know what’s going on.” His touch becomes a subconscious reassurance as he absentmindedly rubs your arms, as if trying to make sure you’re really there in front of him.

“Why do I owe you that? Why do I owe you every shitty detail of my life while I know virtually nothing about you?” you say a little sharper than intended. 

Joel takes a deep breath. “You don’t owe me anything. I just thought–” he pauses, searching your eyes. “I miss seeing that spark in your eyes when you look at me,” he admits, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I never fully realized how much it meant to me until now.”

You take a moment to process his words and his touch as frustration bubbles up inside you. Your heart aches.

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Doing what? Caring about you?”

“Ruining the mood.” You shake your head, swallowing what you actually want to say, any traces of happiness erased from your face. “If you’re trying to make me feel bad, it’s starting to work.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to understand what’s happened since the last time I saw you.” He tilts his head and studies your face, genuine concern in his eyes. 

All you can see, though, is disappointment. He’s disappointed in you, you can sense it. And how could he not be? You’re a liability, a mess. Looks like he’s finally seeing you for who you are, and that’s why he replaced you.

“And now’s the best time to do that?” you scoff, averting your gaze and looking around. 

“What am I supposed to do when you don’t respond to me for days on end and this is my only chance of talking to you?”

You look back into his eyes. “How about leaving it alone?”

“I can’t do that. Not when it comes to you,” he says, shaking his head and moving closer, his cologne filling your senses like a familiar embrace. His hands trace the contours of your neck, a gentle and deliberate touch that ignites a cascade of sensations. His thumbs brush your cheekbones with a tenderness that speaks of longing, his gaze dropping to your lips before finding your eyes again.

In that charged moment, the air between you thickens with unspoken desires before you both succumb to the magnetic pull drawing you together. Your heartbeat quickens, matching the rhythm of anticipation. Without breaking eye contact, he closes the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. The familiar sensation of his lips on yours is both electric and comforting, and you allow yourself to get lost in it for a bit.

As he eases away, his fingers trail lightly down your neck and arms, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. There’s a soft smile on his lips as he breaks the silence. 

“I mean it when I say I care about you and want the best for you, darlin’,” he murmurs. “And you don’t have to tell me any details about what happened if you’re not ready yet, but I need to know what made you not want to call me. We’ve been there for each other in difficult situations before, so I just really don’t get it.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, frustration and anger intertwining with the lingering memory of his lips on yours.

“Why in the world would I ever call you while you’re on a date?” you say quietly, a steely edge in your voice, no trace of a smile to be found on your lips.

Oh. So it did bother you. 

Joel’s expression shifts from concern to a momentary realization, the lines on his forehead deepening. “I would always drop everything to be there for you. No matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

You laugh wryly. “Joel. Seriously. Are you really trying to tell me you were oh so worried about me while you were fucking someone else? And that you’re worried now even though she’s currently upstairs, desperately waiting for you to take her home? Come on, don’t insult my intelligence.”

He stares at you in utter disbelief and takes a step back, as if physically recoiling from the weight of your words. “That’s not what–”

“Look, Joel,” you push yourself off the sink, straighten up, and walk past him towards the door. “It doesn’t matter. You can fuck or date whoever you like. Jan seems nice and like a good match, so I’m very happy for you.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not doing any of that. You misunders–”

You turn around sharply to look at him. “I misunderstood the woman who’s had her hands all over you the whole evening?” 

“It’s not like that,” he insists, trying to get through to you. “She’s drunk as hell and probably doesn’t even realize what she’s doing. And I’m not interested anyway.”

“Sure. That’s why she’s here right now.”

“I had nothing to do with that. Tommy invited her without telling me,” he says, running his fingers through his hair as his stress is mounting. “Darlin’, please. This isn’t even about her; it’s about you and me. And maybe it’s time to stop pretending everything’s okay when it’s clearly not.”

You turn your head, deliberately avoiding the intensity of his gaze as the weight of his words settles in. His plea sends palpable waves of discomfort through your already wounded emotions, causing your chest to tighten further. Why is he doing this? Is this fun for him? 

“So you’d rather keep pretending everything’s fine?” he presses, his tone a mix of concern and urgency, the edges of his patience beginning to fray. 

Okay, now you’ve had it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Joel. What do you want from me?” you hiss at him, frustration dripping from your words.

Joel is momentarily taken aback, but his own agitation prevents him from fully grasping your distress. A deep sigh escapes him as he props one hand on his hip, rubbing his eyes wearily with the other.

“Since when does it matter what I want?” he murmurs.

Ouch.

That hurt.

Your face falls, and you feel like he just slapped you across the face. The sting of his words cuts deep, causing tears to well up in your eyes.

Joel’s eyes widen in shock when he sees the look on your face. “Shit, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammers, realizing the impact of his words a moment too late. “I’m sorry, baby, I–” his voice trembles with regret, desperate to undo the damage he’s done.

“Is that how you really feel? That I don’t care about what you want?” you ask, your voice shaky.

“No, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so–”

“But that’s how you feel? Deep down?”

Why are you acting so surprised? Were you really naive enough to believe him when he said he was happy with you? God, you’re dumb.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he reaches out to wipe away the tears that are making their way down your cheeks, but you push his hand away.

“I came here for you, Joel,” you blurt out, your raised voice startling him. “And I–I spent the last three hours making conversation with everyone, including the woman you’re fucking, because I care about you and want you to be happy, even though my hand is killing me and I’m so drained I have to force my eyes to stay open.”

You express yourself with animated hand gestures as you talk through your tears, your voice breaking. 

“I had a horrible weekend and needed some time to recover, but I was so fucking happy to see you tonight because I’ve missed you and I’ve–I’ve never hidden how much I like spending time with you. Why is that not enough? What more do you want from me?”

Your big, watery eyes pierce Joel’s, and the fact that he’s the reason for your tears pierces his heart.

“Darlin’, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t right what I said.”

He takes a step closer to you, the desperation in his eyes matching the pain in yours, intending to pull you into a comforting hug to calm you—and himself—down. However, you immediately take a step back, creating a physical distance between you two.

“Do you want me to cry ‘cause seeing you with another woman breaks my heart? Is that it?” 

Joel stares at you incredulously, your accusing tone making him wince. “No, of course no–”

Your heart is racing, and you can feel the tightness in your chest growing with every second you’re looking into Joel’s eyes. Eyes that—until now—have always made you feel so calm, so safe, so…loved. Your hands tremble slightly, and a lump forms in your throat, making it difficult to speak.

“Do you want me to make a scene in front of everyone ‘cause it physically pains me to think you’re touching her the same way you touch me?”

Joel opens his mouth to say something, a fleeting impulse to express himself and try to console you, but he catches himself, realizing that uttering those words might inflict more damage than repair right now. 

“Do you want me to beg you not to leave me ‘cause I can’t even imagine my life without you anymore? Is that what you want?”

“Sweetheart...” He takes a step towards you, his eyes pleading, but you cut him off.

“No, I’m fucking sick of this,” your words spill out between sobs as tears stream down your face. “It’s always the same. I’m good enough only as long as I act the way you want it, and the minute you get bored or realize I’m not as perfect as you imagined, you replace me with someone better. Everyone always fucking leaves and I’m so sick of it.”

“Darlin’, I swear that’s not what’s happening,” Joel implores, his whole body so tense and hot he’s sweating through his shirt. “I’m not leaving and I really didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

You sigh deeply, grab a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, blow your nose, and dry your tears.

“I knew this was gonna happen and I still let myself believe I could be enough for once,” you murmur more to yourself than him, your head pounding painfully.

Serves you right for having feelings.

Joel says your name gently, trying his best not to spook you. His words hang in the air like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to mend what is broken.

“You are enough. You’ve always been enough. I’m so sorry for making you feel otherwise.”

Your head is spinning, emotions tumultuous and unyielding. In dire need of fresh air and distance from Joel, you stagger towards the door. His voice follows you, pleading.

“Sweetheart, I promise I’m not going to leave you. And I’m so incredibly sorry for upsetting you, I just–” he exhales deeply and clears his throat. “I wanted you to be honest with me about your feelings, but this wasn’t the way to go about it. I’m sorry.”

The door swings open, and you turn around, the forced smile from before back on your lips. 

“Well, congratulations, Joel,” you say, your tone laced with a mix of bitterness and anguish. “You got what you wanted. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

The door slams shut behind you, leaving Joel stunned, alone with the haunting echoes of shattered trust and unspoken pain, the distant thump of music mirroring the beating of his remorseful heart.

As you make your way back upstairs, the residual heat of the argument lingers on your skin. Taking a deep breath, you enter the lively space once more. Tommy, who’s standing at the bar, notices you, concern etched across his face.

“Hey, is everything okay, honey?” he asks, his voice soft with genuine worry.

You manage a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. My hand’s just hurting really bad now and the meds make me dizzy, so I’ll head home.”

He furrows his brow. “Joel’s my designated driver, but I can take a cab, so he can drive you home.” He looks around, searching the bar for his brother. “Where is he anyway?”

“There’s a huge line in front of the restrooms, he’s probably still waiting. And it’s okay, Tommy, really.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, seeking solace, and bury your face in the crook of his neck. He responds by pulling you into a warm and reassuring embrace, a gesture that speaks volumes without the need for words. Luckily, he’s drunk enough not to smell his brother on you.

“I missed you,” you murmur, your eyes closed. 

Tommy strokes the back of your head and chuckles. “I missed you, too, sweetheart.”

He pulls away far enough to look into your eyes, giving you the brightest smile. “Tell you what. You come over for dinner on Friday — no ifs, ands, or buts. Maria’s been wanting to see you, and we just finished our patio, so it’s perfect.”

You pinch his cheek and shake your head at him. “It’s not fair that you’re this charming, you know? How could I ever say no?”

“Don’t say no, then,” he says playfully,  a hint of worry still in his eyes.

You sigh exaggeratedly. “Okay, okay, I won’t.”

“Attagirl. And you’re sure you don’t want Joel to drive you?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I always find my way home somehow.” You plant a kiss on Tommy’s cheek, and he finally agrees to release you from his embrace after securing a pinky promise that you ‘a hundred percent won’t flake out’.

You walk over to Kristen and Jan, who are still sitting at your table, engrossed in an animated conversation. Observing them for a moment, you find yourself captivated by Jan’s effortless charisma. She’s a real sunshine — and unlike you, she doesn’t have to fake it. Had you met her under different circumstances, you might have liked her. 

Kristen’s eyes meet yours, and her brow furrows slightly, registering the expression on your face for a fleeting moment. Swiftly, you put on a polite smile and step closer, masking the momentary vulnerability with practiced ease.

“Ladies,” you say, a touch of self-deprecating humor in your tone, “I know I’m lame, but I’m actually going home already. Just wanted to say goodbye.”

Jan answers first, surprising you with a warm smile. “Oh, that’s not lame at all! You’re just smarter than us.”

You hold up your injured hand and deadpan, “Yeah, I’m a real genius, aren’t I?”

Jan and Kristen giggle, and you join in, sharing a brief moment of camaraderie. You’re so good at this. Almost believable. 

As you look for your bag on the bench, contemplating the logistics of your departure, Kristen catches your eye and winks at you.

“I’ll come with you,” she says, giving you a reassuring look. “Our boss is gonna have a fit if I fall asleep at my desk again, so…I guess this is what being a responsible adult is,” she sighs. She hands you your bag, downs the rest of her drink, and the two of you say goodbye to Jan, who’s now getting up to search for the Miller brothers.

Kristen takes you by the hand, gently leading you outside. The cool breeze brushes against your face as the sun starts its descent, offering a much-needed breath of fresh air. Settling down down on the curb together, you find a comfortable spot, trying your best not to inadvertently flash someone as you adjust your dress. 

“I’ll call us an Uber,” Kristen says, her tone comforting. You appreciate the warmth of her presence as you wait for the ride, the fading sunlight casting a soft glow on both of you.

“Done.” She wraps her arm around you, providing a supportive shoulder for you to lean on. The two of you sit in silence, the ambient noise of traffic and distant chatter from the bar filling the air, serving as a backdrop to the racing thoughts in your mind. Eventually, Kristen succumbs to her curiosity. 

“So…” she starts, her voice carefully navigating the sensitive terrain. “That’s him?”

You chuckle faintly. “Yup. That’s him.”

“Hmm, I get it now. He’s hot as fuck,” she says, happy that she can make you laugh. “Do you think he’d be up for a threesome?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d be up for it. I’m just not so sure about his heart being able to take it. Or his back. Or his knees.”

Kristen giggles and then looks at you for a moment, fascinated by this evening’s revelations. “It’s so interesting, I had no idea you were into older guys.”

“I, uh, didn’t know either before I met him.”

“I see,” she nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. Another minute of shared silence passes before she decides to just come out and ask you the one burning question on her mind.

“Do you love him?”

You don’t need a second to think about your answer.

– – –

Thank you for reading!! 🤍

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#fwb!joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #series: you wanted this #fwb!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller angst #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller au #joel miller x you

[roosterbruiser]

I am way, way early for sleepover day butttt this popped into my head and I’m curious to see what you can do with “This is my wife, Dr. Bradshaw. She’s been accused of stirring the pot before.”

(I, an aspiring PhD, am FERAL for being called doctor. I’m also curious what Dr. Bradshaw did. If it doesn’t spark inspo, are you studying anything? What was your favorite subject in school?)

standing at the bar, a smile tugging on your lips as the suns sinks into the ocean just outside, you sigh a happy sigh. you're off work for the next several days--which rarely happens--and that means you can spend every waking moment with your hunk of a husband.

he's currently losing a game of pool to Phoenix, who's tickled pink that you're here so Bradley won't pout all night, and stealing glances at you whenever he can chance it.

God, does he look good, too--that dumb Hawaiian shirt that really must have some sort of magic in it, a tight white t-shirt, blue jeans. he's tan and happy and warm and everything in the world that you love. and you're fairly certain that isn't just the Long Island iced teas talking. being married for the past three years hasn't really changed much at all for the two of you--you still daydream about him like a ditzy teenager. and he still gets flustered when you catch his gaze and wink--it's one of the things you love most about him; how easy you can make him blush.

"isn't he handsome?" you ask out loud to no one in particular--and you're fairly certain that it is because of the Long Island iced teas.

Jake Seresin happens to be standing beside you, waiting for Penny to finish up with another customer so he can get his first whiskey sour of the night, and he glances at you when he hears the dreamy lilt in your tone.

shit--you're hot. he doesn't know how he didn't notice you here before. for a quick minute, he racks his brain, trying to place you. he knows you're familiar--maybe a past fling or a match on tinder--but nothing's calling out to him.

he gives you a once-over, a sly one, and notices a few things: the way your breasts strain against the fabric of your tee shirt, the gloss over your eyes, the way those jeans hug your hips, and a wedding ring.

he follows your gaze to Bradley, who's gaping as Phoenix absolutely demolishes him in pool without so much as breaking a sweat, and frowns.

"eh," Jake answers, shrugging. he turns and catches your gaze, his brows slightly knit. "he's married, anyway."

oh. you recognize this guy from all of Bradley's stories--this is Jake. Hangman. you two seem to always just miss each other: you're out of town when he comes over for a football game, you're working at the hospital when he's on base, you're at the grocery store when he FaceTimes Bradley.

for a moment, you maintain his gaze, waiting for him to place you. but he's just staring at you blankly.

"married, huh?" you ask softly, leaning in closer to Jake. you make a show of looking all around Bradley and Jake's brows knit even further--you're brash for a married woman looking at a married man. "I don't see a wife?"

Jake scoffs softly, an incredulous smile tugging on his lips. surely you're joking. but then he keeps watching you eye fuck Bradley, teeth sunken into your lower lip, and he automatically straightens his spine.

"you're married too," Jake points out, nodding to your ring finger. he crosses his arms over his chest. "how'd your husband feel knowing you're eyeing a Navyman?"

"ooh," you sing-song, batting your lashes. "he's a man in uniform, too, huh?"

Christ. you're less shameless than him.

"and married," Jake repeats, frowning a bit now. "you know, like you. married. holy matrimony and all that. union. like, legally bound."

stifling a laugh, you give a very blasé shrug of your shoulders and bite your lip.

"all the good ones are taken," you say, wrinkling your nose. "don't you think I deserve a little fun?"

Jake fully scoffs now, aghast at your behavior. it takes everything in your body not to break character and introduce yourself. but you wanna see how far you can take this: you've heard stories about Jake. a shameless, over-confident creature who'll turn taken women into single women with a bat of his long lashes. and you've got him gaping at you like you're some sort of wild animal.

but before he can say anything else, Bradley finally wanders up behind you, pressing a few kisses to your cheek as he wraps his arms around your waist.

and that is about all Jake can take.

"listen, man, I don't know your wife but I'm sure she wouldn't be too happy about you kissing up on another married woman!" Jake says, hands on his hips. he's never been more disappointed in Bradley before. he feels like he's in the fucking Twilight Zone. Bradley "I Never Shut Up About My Hot Wife" Bradshaw shacking up with some stranger at the bar while his wife probably busts her ass at the hospital? no fucking way. "and I ain't gonna hold my tongue about it--I'll tell you that now."

when Bradley laughs, Jake just blinks at him. but then you're laughing, too, patting Bradley's chest.

"we almost had him!" you tell Bradley, shoving him playfully. "that vein in his forehead was starting to throb!"

instinctively, Jake slides a finger across his forehead. huh. maybe it was. how the fuck would you know about that vein, though?

"Jake," Bradley says with a grin. "this is my wife--Dr. Bradshaw. she's known to occasionally stir the pot."

beaming at a still-flustered Jake, you extend your left hand.

"pleasure's all mine."

#m answers #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x reader #top gun rooster #rooster imagine #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster fluff #rooster smut #PHEW....

[tulipps-maehem]

TW- reader is former Slave, Eustass is an ass. Not much for this one but there will be explicit content going forward. Eustass x Skypian!Reader x Killer NOT PROOFREAD fuck it we ball

A looming smell of damp wood washed over your senses, the smell no longer pleasant as the petrichor of rain back home.

this scent was dank and salty, almost sickening as the smell of dried blood on your clothing.

your head was fuzzy and wrists heavy from the broken shackles that adorned them, bruises and cuts ached throughout your body. You had snuck onto the most intimidating ship that wasn’t the marines nor a slaver and were currently in the hull of said vessel.

the events of Sabaody were still clear in your mind. Gunshot. Punch. Pirates, one crew that you recognized as the man who saved your village Meer months ago along with the warlord and the man in the fur and his masked friend. Their names the only clear ones in your mind Captain Eustass Kid and his little blonde friend Killer.

they had seemed most likely to survive, most were dressed in leather and bold colors and furs.. something you gawked at when you had seen a few of them in the crowd of the auction that had been taking place. unfortunately you had been one of the few who hadn’t received the curtesy of getting your shackles taken off or cut, so you had used some guys attack to cut the chain. It worked then but now as you attempted to move all you could hear was the clank of the metal.

‘well shit, i didn’t wanna fucking try but… some of the others dislocated their thumbs to get out so maybe.. I can try?’

you sighed then steadied your breath, wincing as you pressed until a soft pop was heard. it didn’t hurt to bad as you slid you hand out of the heap of metal. After you’d popped your thumb back in you did the other hand.

you rubbed the metal rash on your wrists to soothe the ache, it’d been a month or so since the blonde hyena like bastard had stolen you away from your home leaving a trail of fire and death in his wake. The tattoo etched into your back will never let you forget the horrors that man did. You were going to find him and rain fire from the sky and watch him burn.

The thunks of footsteps snapped you out of your daydreams, you assumed you were in the hull of the ship. You stood, very quietly made your way over to where the crates were stacked. An idea coming to your mind…

it had been a week or so after fleeing Sabaody and the Kid Pirates were set out for the new world, but the last week had been hell. A few had been wounded, and Kidd had been in a constant state of paranoia leaving his poor partner more stressed then ever.

Just this morning Killer had chewed Kidd out for eating the rest of the spaghetti he had made last night. In retaliation to these events the Captain had Locked himself inside his workshop for the day.

He had been in there for a while now tinkering away at something as an apology for Killer even though ‘he didn’t do shit’. Suddenly Eustass groaned in frustration, whipping his head around and throwing a dagger into the wall of his workshop.

although.. this time a small squeak came fourth and red slowly stained the wall in a small patch

“I gotcha now little mouse come on out now eh?”

he chuckled low as he stalked towards the wall almost silently before smirking devilishly and in a see less moment connected his fist with the wall next to the patch.

Alas, it was only a rat. He huffed and turned to the kitten asleep bin the porthole shelf he made her

“Gizmo, the fuck ya doin if it’s not catchin the bleedin rats ya Eeijit!”

he lectured the kitten while holding its scruff at face height. She mewed at him in return to which he chuckled and shifted to hold her as if she were a newborn child . Smiling at the way she nibbled his fingers and batted at his arm.

that damn shuffling sound was back again. But this time he sighed and brushed it off as more rats before going to alert killer of the problem. The tortie kitten. But the strange thing was he could hear the vibrations of small metal pieces, maybe he was just getting paranoid? No one could be on his ship without him knowing right? The rat probably just swallowed one of the girls earrings or other piercings..

as you heard Footsteps wander away you let out a sigh of relief, frowning at the hole next to your face. This was the 5th time you’d almost gotten pulverized by the hands of Eustass Kid. To be fair, he didn’t exactly mean to.. but you just had to wait a few more days until they docked then you could escape.

you felt bad in all honesty, your presence seemed to have been messing with the crew. The crew mates whisper ghost stories to each other, some being paranoid others finding it childish. But the captain was the big problem, he heard something and what does the big bastard do? He chucks a knife- or better yet punches the source of the sound.

the crews been noticing the missing food as well, but it always made you giggle seeing the blonde- “Killer” you remembered, accusing his captain of stealing the leftovers

you actually had yourself a decent spot on the ship, you’d wiggled your way into a tiny space under the kitchen that went up to behind the pantry, and some other parts of the ship. But in the larger area closest to the bottom of the hull you even had a small straw bed. (Why they had straw you had no idea in the slightest)

Currently you were watching the crew tell stories around a fire from the peephole in the pantry one of the rookies you’d noticed looked li’e they were about three minutes from shitting their pants hearing about the torture that Eustass Kid would subject on his victims.

you on the other hand found his tales fascinating, you had no idea people with such similar ideals of freedom to your own people had lived in the blue seas

you smiled to yourself as you watched them, until the growl of your stomach pulled you out of your trance. You saw some apples on the shelf across from the punch-made peephole and quickly stuck your arm through. you couldn’t see so you had your head pressed to the wall trying to hear but the rhythmic thump of your quickening up was making that quite difficult.

You felt around until your hand landed on something soft, fabric like almost, but still firm. It took a moment until you felt the same rhythmic thumps.. of a heart beat..and an unfamiliar voice spoke out with venom.

“what. the. fuck.”

#one piece #eustass kid #kid pirates #massacre soldier killer #killer one piece #eustass kid x reader #eustasscaptainkid #eustass captain kidd #one piece killer #killer x reader #killer x kid #kidkiller #fanfic #fanfiction #y/n

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 3)

notes: another short part, because it seems like these devils website streamed games are harder for me to write for? so sorry!

au masterlist

y/ndevils00

liked by nicohischier, ehaula, and 218,966 others

y/ndevils00 greetings and salutations! welcome to another preseason recap! as always, strap in and get ready!

just a reminder that as this is preseason, not all of satan’s favorite children played! tonight we had swiss cheese, swiss roll, uncle haulaback girl, uncle lizard again, best friend number 1, V², and ginger snap!

we started off the game by giving up a goal to the annoying orange’s 😐

BUT lizard man tied us up almost halfway through the 1st! POP OFF, UNCLE CURTSY!

captain whore was jailed tonight for being too cute, and ya know what? i think it’s fair! make him stay there!

not long after cap’s penalty, we got a goal from holtzy! giving us a 2-1 lead!

but then ham sammich also got a penalty for tripping!

we made it almost all the way through 3rd with our lead and i was really looking forward to going home! until one of those orange fucks tied up the game 🫠

i had a few choice words for that player… lindy didn’t like my words, i don’t think

however, about 2 and a half minutes into OT… HAULA THE BALLA GOT THE GAME WINNING GOAL WITH ASSISTS FROM BESTIE NUMBER 1 AND THE GIANT TEDDY BEAR!!

which means your devils are 4-0 in the preseason!! 3 games left!

p.s. this is my formal request to never have to be around gritty again. i thought adam fantilli was my biggest fear, but i’ve been proven wrong

tagged curtislazar95, nicohischier, holtz_10, dougieham, ehaula, dawson1417

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curtislazar95 i always look forward to your praise, niece!

y/ndevils00 i’m so glad! can i babysit your children (my cousins) one day?

curtislazar95 quite literally never 💚🦎

y/ndevils00 eh, probably the right choice

jackhughes are you seriously afraid of a mascot, dove?

y/ndevils00 look at him! i think he would plan my murder and get away with it

grittynhl i would

y/ndevils00 OH MY JESUS FUCK GET HIM AWAY

lhughes_06 dawson sent him a video of you throwing your phone and now jack is currently doubled over on the floor, tears rolling down his face, as he laughs at this

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes glad to know you find my FEAR amusing

ehaula i try, i try 🤗

y/ndevils00 you did better than dawson! (don’t tell dawson)

dawson1417 YOU KNOW I CAN SEE THIS, RIGHT??

y/ndevils00 @/dawson1417 no you can’t, this is a private conversation!

dawson1417 i can assure you, it is NOT

john.marino97 i’m loving this

dawson1417 @/john.marino97 shut up, you’ve been stealing my affection!

y/ndevils00 @/dawson1417 @/john.marino97 boys, boys, i love you both equally!

dawson1417 no you don’t

john.marino97 no you don’t

dougieham why does it look like you took that picture of me from on the ice?

y/ndevils00 i have my ways

dougieham were you ON THE ICE somehow?!

jackhughes are you kidding? she would’ve broken her neck

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes okay and who’s fault is that? my boyfriend is a professional hockey player and you’ve never TAUGHT ME how to ice skate

jackhughes umm i TRIED to teach you! you fell on your face and then bribed luke to distract me so that you could get yourself hot cocoa and hide from me so you wouldn’t have to get on the ice again

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes hmm that doesn’t sound like something i would do. nope, not at all

nicohischier i didn’t miss this

y/ndevils00 yes you did

nicohischier i missed you calling me “captain whore” and taking pictures of me in the penalty box?

y/ndevils00 well maybe if you didn’t get penalties, i wouldn’t be ABLE to take pictures of you in the naughty boy box

nicohischier oh wow, i never thought of that before 😐

y/ndevils00 i know, you’re welcome

dawson1417 i got that assist for you!

y/ndevils00 awww i appreciate that, merc-dawg!

y/ndevils00 a goal would’ve been nicer tho

dawson1417 i’m feeling very under appreciated right now

y/ndevils00 aww i’m sorry, i love you! (do better)

dawson1417 i love you too! (yes ma’am 😔)

grittynhl i’m coming for you

y/ndevils00 help me 🥲

#media management au! #media management series <3 #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s insta edits <3 #faithlynn’s writings <3

[illvmiimoved]

Just Helping You Sleep.

Miguel O’Hara x AFAB reader (GN pronouns)

TAGS/INCLUDED: Lactation (not really nsfw though) * Dad!Miguel * Miguel is super smitten * if he’s Spider-Man is up to you * fluff * au where he had Gabriella normally so she isn’t literally dead

A/N: this is my first ever tumblr post so please have mercy LOL. What a first post am I right gang? Anyways happy reading ❤️

New account cause I screwed up 😭

Miguel has had one thing on his mind lately.

Your tits.

It was weird as hell, considering the situation, but it was true. He couldn’t get those damn things out of his head no matter how hard he tried.

He’d be busy at work, then boom. Titty thoughts.

You’d had his baby recently, which didn’t help (and was also the cause of the recent boob thought influxes). The baby was a beautiful girl and light of Miguel’s life, Gabriella.

You were breastfeeding Gabri, which was the main cause. You not only exposed them more often, but it also made your boobs larger than they were originally.

Miguel was honestly pretty ashamed of getting horny of you merely feeding your child, but here he was.

One day, Miguel was sitting on the couch, watching the news with a beer in one hand and Gabriella in the other. She was snug against him and content, ‘till she began crying.

You had raced over to get her, cooing things like “Oh no, what’s wrong, baby?” And “Are Papa’s stupid news stories boring you to tears, my poor thing?”

You swooped the little girl from his arms, and popped your shirt open in record time to feed her. Miguel nearly dropped his beer.

You noticed his staring and asked if he was alright, and he just said something akin to “Yeah, Gabi’s just so cute when she eats.” Which was true, just not the reason he was staring so intently.

The second a drop of milk dribbled down your boob and down towards your torso, Miguel began to sweat in his wife-beater and had to literally leave the room.

Miguel has caught himself having extremely weird thoughts as of late. A lot of the time, he realizes he’s actually envious of his 3 month old daughter for being able to be that up close and personal with your chest.

Another one is when that drip of milk dribbled down your chest, he had to actually stop himself from swiping a finger under it to catch it on the pad of his finger, and taste it.

He had absolutely no idea what was happening.

He currently was sat on yours and his shared bed, doing some work on his iPad. His glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose, so he pushes them up. You walk in from just finally getting your daughter down, palming your boobs uncomfortably and looking around the room.

He looks up from his tablet, “What’s wrong, querido?”

“I can’t find that stupid breast pump, and Gabriella didn’t empty me before she fell asleep. It fuckin’ hurts.”

He saves his work before shutting his tablet off, getting up from his spot to help you look around for the pump to alleviate your pain.

You sigh exhaustedly, “I swear to god if it’s in her room and I have to go in there and risk waking her up-“

Miguel sits back on the bed when he can’t find it and for some reason, his mind decided that yeah, this was a great thing to blurt out;

“Do you want me to help?”

You stop what you’re doing and turn to look at him comically slowly. You stare at him, “Eh?”

Miguel pales in the face when he realizes what he actually just fucking said, what he suggested.

“I just meant- uhm- Amor I didn’t mean-“

He shut up before he could make things worse than he already had.

You walk over and sit on the edge of the bed, staring at him, “Did you… are you suggesting you drink me dry?”

Miguel lets out a loud groan, “Don’t say it like that, cariño!” He covers his face with his hands.

You just snicker and crawl up to your spot on the bed. You shrug, “We can give it a shot. I don’t see why not. I won’t be able to sleep like this.”

“Are you serious?” He whips his head up to stare at you. His gaze only grows more shocked when you slip your shirt off, over your head.

You lean back and rest your head on the pillow. Miguel could see you really were tired, so he decided to just dive right in, crude as that sounds.

He leant down and latched on, and hoooolllllyyy shit man. It felt so good. It was unbelievable. He’d fantasized about this for weeks on end, and it was finally happening.

Hell, the milk was perfect too. It was in his top 5 beverages for sure. Not because it was from his beautiful and lovely spouse who he loves more than anything, his beautiful and lovely spouse who could breathe and he would propose to you all over again.

You let out a long breath from the relief and tangle your fingers in his hair. He lets out a low groan at the action.

He reaches one of his hands up to squeeze at the breast he wasn’t sucking, and it fucking dribbled out milk. He could have came on the spot. He immediately unlatched from you to catch it on his tongue.

He switches to the other breast, pretty confident he had emptied your other one. He lets out a loud groan against you when you tug his hair slightly. You let out a sigh yourself. It was super pleasant, having a big hunky man sucking you dry.

Miguel kept on working, focused on mostly helping you get to sleep. Sure he was getting unbelievably horny, but he knew you really just wanted your rest. Having a tiny baby who clung to you like Gabriella did was exhausting.

He pulls back and uses his big hands to feel your breasts, making sure they’re empty enough to let you get some comfortable sleep. Once he’s sure they are, he looks up at you with a lovey dovey smile. You hold back a snicker as you raise a thumb to wipe away the remaining milk around his mouth.

“All better?” He asks. You could feel his excitement pressed up against you under the covers and he noticed. He shook his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t worry about it, Hermosa. It’ll go away. Just get your sleep, Mhm?”

You nod sleepily and cuddle against his side. He lets your head rest on his shoulder as he pulls the cover over both of you.

He looks at you with the sweetest gaze, “You’re so beautiful.”

You smile tiredly at him and press a kiss to his cheek, then lay your head back on his shoulder. You felt yourself drifting off to sleep, not as uncomfortable as before.

He mumbles,

“You will let me do that during sex though, right?”

You burst out in giggles, nodding and kissing him.

A/N: this was my first tumblr post ever so please give feedback if you want!! Thanks so much for reading ❤️

+ I did use spanishdict for the Spanish nicknames Miguel used, please lmk if I used them wrong or anything so I can fix them !

(the normal shit, don’t copy or redistribute this pretty please)

#miguel x reader #atsv miguel #spiderman atsv #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o hara #miguel spiderman #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x you #atsv x reader #miguel fluff #Miguel O’Hara fluff #dad!miguel

[spider999sposts]

IMAGINE-

maybe secretary vibes- but imagine one day you're trying to help Miguel with whatever task is (currently) frustrating him, and he says something degrading / mean towards you like, pinching the bridge of his nose and saying "I don't even- dios mío-“ before turning to you with red eyes saying "You're such a fucking brat. Just stop talking. I don't know why I bothered-"

but you just roll your eyes, taunting him with a "oh I'm such a brat? am I your little slut too, Miguel?"

poor Miguel would practically start steaming from how red he gets, clearing his throat and turning his back to you as if he's not turned on by your joke

AND OR you follow up with a "keep talking to me like that Spider-Man and l'II do whatever you want" not knowing he’s clenching his jaw trying to hold back every feral instinct involving pinning your wrists behind your back and taking you right there-

Self-restraint — Miguel O'Hara

🕸synopsis: miguel –begrudgingly– asks you for help, and you leave him with a much bigger problem, if you know what I mean.

🕸genre: nothing specific but it's spicy🤭

🕸gn!spiderperson!reader × miguel o'hara

🕸a.n: this was so fun to write. thank you for the request anon!

Miguel doesn't ask for help, ever. It was honestly queit impressive how the man thinks he could take on any problem that faces him, but just today, just this once, he had to admit, he needed help.

When all his attempts at adding a feature on his gizmo failed, and when LYLA couldn't really provide him on info to where the issue was, he begrudgingly agreed to ask someone to look into it with him.

And of course, it had to be you.

Why you? Well, you were the only one foolish enough to keep reminding him that if he needed help with anything, you'd gladly look into it. You worked in the technical department with Margo too, so, you weren't fully incompetent of the matter he wanted help with.

You were chatting with Hobie over the innerworkings of the interdimensional watchs you all own, when your gizmo beeped, and a hologram of LYLA appeared right before your eyes. "Hey, Miguel needs you in his office for a moment." She said casually, adjusting her crooked heart-shaped glasses.

Hobie gave you a look, "Huh, little secretary work, eh?" He asked, grinning. "Or did you piss him off? What did you do?" You shook your head, "Clueless."

"Oh, no, you're not in trouble or anything. Just.." LYLA popped beside your ear, and leaned in, "He wants help with something but, you know, don't tell that to anyone."

You cut your conversation with Hobie short, telling him that you'll be back since Miguel doesn't exactly like waiting. It didn't take you long to reach his office.

"Hey, you said you wanted help?"

"I didn't say that." He huffed, dropping down from his platform, holding a gizmo in his hand. "I need you to check something, is all. I'm trying to upgrade the gizmo but it keeps malfunctioning." He said, he was not looking at you, almost embaressed he even told you to come. He was always like this, even when he asked you to assist him with paperwork and such, the man was too prideful to admit when something had him stumped.

You took the device from the palm of his hands, and swung over to his desk, sitting down on the chair opposing to his. He walked over to you, grumbling. You've grown queit accommodated to his office, considering how many times he'd call you in. You had LYLA open a screen of Miguel's new and improved gizmo plan, while you began to unscrew it to check on the insides.

"What are you doing?" He asked, squinting his eyes as he watched you try to install the update, only for the watch to turn red and restart. "I'm trying to figure out if it's a motherboard problem, or if the load is too heavy—But you probably checked that already, right?" You looked up at him, and the look on his face made you realise that he definitely did not.

Miguel's nose scrunched up, "O-of course I did. What kind of question is that?" You gave him a small smile, it was better if you just nodded along to what he says.

You spent a few moments fiddling with it, while Miguel revised his notes. A simple upgrade to the watch shouldn't be this hard, and he shouldn't really have asked for help with something as trivial as this. You kept suggesting solutions, saying stuff in a tone like it was so obvious.

"Maybe the CPU chip needs to be upgraded first."

"Have you considered that the disk space on it is insufficient?"

And it didn't help that he haven't thought about any of this. He was getting irritated everytime you spoke, "Hey, Miguel, why do you even think it's a software problem, maybe the—"

"Stop acting like a smartass—!Dios Mio¡—" He snatched the device away from your hands, walking to the other side of the room while pinching the bridge of his nose. "I told you to come because I thought you'd have a clue on what the problem is, not because I wanted suggestions. I'll figure it out myself."

"Hey, I wasn't suggesting, I do think it's a hardware problem, but—" You followed after him, your brows knit tightly and your arms over your chest. "I'm just asking you why—"

"Por favor, stop talking, okay? You're such a brat, this is why I don't ask for help." He turned around to face you, eyes as red as rubies. "Acting like you know everything. You need to be put in your place."

The frown you've had on your face this whole time was quickly replaced by a shit-eating grin. If he was pissed of now, he surely wasn't ready for what you were going to say next.

You took a step towards him, tilting your head innocently while he glared daggers at you.

"Keep talking to me like that, and I might just let you put me in my place, Spiderman."

His eyes widened, and he dropped the gizmo, letting it fall with a kachunk! the floor. His cheeks and ears were as red as his eyes, he had his mouth open, but no words came out.

"You pervert." That was ironic, because all he could think of right now is how pretty you'd look pinned up against that desk of his, writhing underneath him while you begged him to let you have him. He could imagine himself teasing you to the brink, just to teach you a lesson, before finally giving into your pleas. How he'd edge you and not let you cum until he has had enough. That would put you in your place.

It was ironic, if he could right now, he'd tear your suit right off of you and show you who's boss.

He turned around from you, jaw clenched and eyes shut close. "Get out. Now."

"What if I don't?"

"Stop acting like a damn brat."

"Oh? Brat? You'd be into that, wouldn't you?"

Jesus Christ, you were testing him. It was hard enough trying to resist his urges. Everytime you came in to help him, you always left him with a much bigger problem on his hands, or, well, between his thighs.

"Get—"

"Okay, fine, fine. Just messing with you." He saw you pick up the gizmo and put it on the nearby table, your footsteps moving towards the door. "I'll be there if you want something else though!"

Miguel groaned, rubbing his eyes, turning around once the door shut behind you. When he asked you to come to his office, he had one problem. Now he was stuck with a half broken, malfunctioning gizmo, and a boner that he needed to do something about.

#across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara #lyla spiderverse #marvel #miguel spiderverse #gabriella o’hara #atsv pavitr #gwen stacy #hobie brown #astv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #× reader #miguel o hara smut #spider noir #spider punk #spider gwen #spiderman

[dumbkiri]

hi!! how are you? i hope you are having a lovely day and staying hydrated.

i just would like to request a tobio x fem!reader where reader is the younger sister of oikawa and because of the "bad blood" between the two, she gets tired and lectures them about how they should stop their petty fight and, at least, be civilized with each other. (though oikawa is mainly the petty one 😂)

it's a bit messy, so it's okay if you don't decide it or completely change the plot.

btw, i absolutely love your fics!!! and i definitely am a fan of yours!!!

𝐁𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐬

ᴋᴀɢᴇʏᴀᴍᴀ ᴛᴏʙɪᴏ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

The Karasuno Boys volleyball team were excited to be invited to the Karasuno’s Girls volleyball tournament. The tournament was called ‘Spring Days’, it was showcasing the popular teams of Japan and they couldn't wait to see all the cute girls there.

Then they were all smacked in the face when Kageyama offhandedly said that he wouldn’t be there to support the Karasuno girls. 

“What do you mean you’re not going to support them! They always support us!” Hinata shouted at his grumpy teammate. The orange haired male was currently shaking the life out of Kageyama. 

Then Kageyama scowled and began wrestling Hinata as he said, “Because I would be betraying someone important to me. She plays for Shiratorizawa.” 

“Eh?” Hinata stopped shaking Kageyama and just stared at him blankly while being held in a chokehold by said male. Then he whispered so the rest of the boys practicing wouldn’t hear them, “Someone important? Like a girlfriend?” 

“Is that a problem?” Kageyama casually asked, pushing Hinata away. He picked up his drink and started gulping down the water in his plastic bottle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shrugged his shoulders, “It’s a good thing I get a free ride there, but don’t expect me to cheer for our school.” 

“We are there to support our team, Kageyama,” Sawamura crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at the young teen with his dad stare, “And if I don’t hear you cheer for them, you will not set for two games- no three games.” 

Kageyama deflated and looked off to the side in thought. You would understand the punishment he was getting and would want him to do what’s best for him. But your attitude was going to be different during the game. “Fine, but if our school faces Shiratorizawa, you’re gonna wish I cheered for her instead.” 

The boys watched as the volleyball nerd went over to the net getting ready to practice some sets. They had no idea what he meant by that and left to join him for practice. 

…..

Saturday came quicker than the boys anticipated, nonetheless they sported the Karasuno jackets and walked into the large stadium with giant smiles on their faces. They all loved the feeling they got walking up to the court, so sometimes it was weird for them to be watching and being the supporting students. 

Kageyama was glued to his phone, messaging his girlfriend non-stop. Hinata would definitely peek over Kageyama’s shoulder, but he would always be pushed away with a hand in front of his face. The boys were seated in the first row and had an amazing view of the court. 

Kageyama was doing perfectly fine until he heard his rival speaking from afar. “Ah, the poor little trashy crows have to play against my amazing little sister. I can only imagine how giant the point difference is going to be.” 

Kageyama looked to his left to see two empty seats. That was until that annoying voice still praising his sister got closer. His dark blue eyes looked up to see brown ones glaring at him. Then another male popped up from behind the curly brown haired person.

 “Ah, Kageyama, you’re here to support [Name] as well?” Iwaizumi asked, walking in front of Oikawa and greeting the stumped black haired male. 

Kageyama bowed his head then said, “No, I’m not allowed to cheer for her or else I won’t be a setter for three games.” 

Iwaizumi sat down next to him and chuckled, “I get it and I’m sure she would as well. Did you tell her?” The older teen got comfortable and looked at his old teammate. 

“I’m afraid she’s going to give the Karasuno girls a hard time if I did,” Kageyama admitted with his eyes directed hard at the ground. 

A loud laugh caught their attention and Oikawa leaned back into his seat with a smug smile on his face. “[Name] is so going to crush your trashy team solo! If I were you, I would tell your other halves to forfeit now.” 

Iwaizumi elbowed Oikawa’s rib cage causing the male to lurch forward with a holler. Before Kageyama could agree with his rival, his loud teammates came into the picture with heated glares, “What makes your snotty sister so special, huh?” Tanaka shouted while Nishinoya stood behind him with a fist in the air, “Ten bucks, our team does the crushing instead!” 

“Deal!” Oikawa shouted back with one hand holding his side while Iwaizumi shook his head from the lack of awareness these idiots had. The usually grumpy male leaned over to Kageyama and whispered, “You do know that your team is going to make trashykawa super rich after this game?” 

Kageyama crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled back, “I tried to warn them.” 

“Welcome all to the Spring Days tournament where talented ladies from all over Japan showcase their volleyball skills.” 

The female announcer excitedly proclaimed in her microphone. The males couldn’t focus on what she was saying because a new group arrived behind them and this group wasn’t going to go unnoticed. 

“Oh my, is that Oikawa Tooru? The big brother of our baby eagle, [Name]?” 

Kageyama peeked a glance at his rival and saw the instant disgust on the male’s face which caused a bit of happiness to appear on his own face. Kageyama thought this was a perfect karma moment for the smug male. 

“You do well to address my little sister by her last name. Just because she trains with that guy, doesn’t mean you cannot show her or myself some respect!” Oikawa pointed at a very tall third year student. 

Ushijima looked down at Oikawa with his eyes and stated, “Your sister likes the nickname the team gave her and she has all our respect because of her skills. At least she took my advice to join the girls team at Shiratorizawa unlike you. She’s being nurtured if that’s what you care about.” 

“Don’t word it like that, it makes you sound like a pervert! Also that’s because I don’t want to be your teammate! You’re the one that brainwashed my poor sister! I should have persuaded her to spend her time elsewhere!” 

“What, like Karasuno?” Tendou snidely said with a snicker. 

Kageyama could feel the tension from his captain and vice captain as Daichi spoke up with a fake smile on his face. The third year Karasuno male turned around and asked Tendou with that cheap smile, “Something wrong with Karasuno?”

Tendou hummed and shrugged his shoulders, “Ehh~ You don’t really see people with skill choose Karasuno unless they’re rejects,” He looked at the back of Kageyama’s head, “Or useless dreamers.” He stared at the rest owlishly. 

“That’s enough out of your mouth,” Semi joined in and told everyone to focus on the game which is about to start. Everyone had their feathers ruffled up in some way and it was because of their snide remarks to one another. 

“For our first game, we have Karasuno vs Shiratorizawa! Please welcome them to the court!” 

Kageyama pulled out his backpack from under his chair and everyone looked at him suspiciously. He didn’t pay attention to their questioning glares as his eyes were on a girl who looked around the arena for him. Of course, your knees were not covered by your usual white and purple knee pads. 

It only took another minute for you to find him and you ran over to the stands with a giant grin on your face.

 “Tobio, thank you so much for bringing them! I forgot I left them at your place!” You huffed out and sat down in front of his backpack digging in it without any permission. You found your knee pads and took them out with a sigh of relief. “You just saved me from running ten laps back home.” 

“It’s no problem at all,” Kageyama responded with a gentle smile on his face as he admired your look. The rest of his teammates were baffled by the look of his face and how pretty you were. You seemed kind, way kinder than your older brother. 

You slipped your knee pads over your shoes and comfortably on your knees. You looked up at Tobio and blushed at the soft look he was giving you, but you could tell he wanted to tell you something. “Is something wrong, Tobio?” 

“Yes!” Your brother shouted standing up from the bleachers, “He’s not going to cheer for you! But don’t worry, you have me!” 

“And us!” Tendou shouted from a row behind. You laughed and pushed yourself up from the floor. You weren’t going to tell them that you didn’t notice them because of your attention to your boyfriend. 

“Is there a reason why you’re not going to cheer for me, Tobio?” You asked with a pout on your face and he stood up immediately to comfort you. You loved this about him, he was pretty shy, but he made sure to keep you happy. 

He looked at his team then to you and explained, “They didn’t believe me when I said that my girlfriend plays for Shiratorizawa and said that if I didn’t cheer for the Karasuno girls then I wouldn’t set for three games.” 

You laughed and gave Kageyama a quick hug pushing him gently back onto his seat, “Eh, don’t worry Tobio. I was just teasing you. I know I will always have your support! Anyways, what’s the bet?” 

“You know about the bet?” Hinata questioned bewildered by your psychic abilities and you scoffed with a smirk on your face as you gestured over to your older brother, “Please, if my brother doesn’t force someone to bet on my skills then he’s not my Tooru.” 

“We bet ten dollars,” Oikawa said and leaned back while Iwaizumi shook his head in exaggeration. 

Then you rolled your eyes and fixed your knee pads a bit while saying, “I would have gone higher, older brother. But that’s okay, I hope to see you all in the finals.” You winked at Kageyama and shouted over your shoulder as you walked away, “I better not hear the both of you talking smack to one another. It throws me off my game!” 

Oikawa sat back in his spot and glared at Kageyama, “Why were her knee pads at your place?”

Kageyama shrugged his shoulders and zipped up his bag. The words from you not even seconds ago being forgotten because of a cruel idea in his head. He was tired of Oikawa and this was for sure going to get him riled up.

Kageyama turned his head and smirked at Oikawa, “Maybe because she spends most of her time on her knees.” 

“I dare you to say that again!” Oikawa shouted while being held back by Iwaizumi who had to hide his blush from his former teammate. He wasn't expecting Kageyama to be that bold!

“I meant what I said!” You shouted, giving a glare at your rambunctious brother.

..........

Thank you for your support and I hope this was a fun read for you because I had fun writing it!!

#x reader #anime imagine #manga imagine #x female reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x female reader #kageyama imagine #tobio x reader

[sewinrat]

Can you do Randal x !escaping from an aggressive(attacking) stranger reader

ppleease

*Technically takes place in the 'pep in your step' video. Not proofread

The sound of rapid footsteps can be heard. You were running away from a stranger that just approached you and became aggressive so suddenly. You are now running away from them and they're chasing you. You cursed out the stranger mentally for ruining your day. When you're not paying attention, you accidentally stepped on a crushed pepsi can and slipped, "FUCK!"

You land on your knees and you hiss through your teeth as you can feel tiny sharp rocks leaving small cuts on your knees. Suddenly, you heard the bushes beside you rustling and you look towards it in anticipation, waiting for the stranger to popped out. However, instead of the stranger that you were running away from it's... Another stranger but with square glasses and medium length (orange-ish brown) hair.

"Eh?? It's a human!" He giggles insanely as you are still on the ground, this time confused at whoever he is. "What are you doing on the ground?? Do you like the taste of dirt too??" He continues on and he smiles at you with a big grin as he leans closer. You hesitated before you respond in quite desperate, "Uh no? Listen, I'm trying to get away from someone and I need to call the police! Do you know the nearest phone or station?" The boy laughs again weirdly and shook his head. "No~ but I got a better idea! Come to my house instead!" He offered.

Everytime he says something, he just makes you even more confused with his bizarre mannerisms. "Uhm why?" You tried asking as if that's gonna help. "You'll be safe I promise! You can be my new friend, plus Sebastian might have another human friend!" He offered like it's somehow a great deal. You are getting pretty annoyed by his shenanigans that you agreed. For some reason. I guess when you're bleeding out, you can become disoriented to think it over.

And that's how you got stuck in this situation. You have met Sebastian and both of you agreed that you both are currently unlucky. You also met Luther who immediately tells Randal to hand you some of his clothes because of how dirty you look but he also tries to show some sympathy. Not in a human way, more like in a pet kind of way. After all that, you're in a new set of clothes and are now laying down in a coffin as your 'bed' besides Randal's. You almost doze off until you felt Randal holds your hand. You know he has a cat-like smile while staring at you but you didn't because you had quite a long day.

"Heyy~ you never told me your name."

"It's [name]."

"Well, you are going to be my partner to play with from now on~"

"Great." You sigh in exasperation before laughing it off as you feel yourself slowly losing your mind. You both continue to hold hands in your sleep because he's not letting go that easily.

#i can't write randal well #he's an unpredictable rabid animal #ranfren #randal’s friends #ranfren x reader #x reader #randal ivory #ranfren randal #randal von ivory #request more if you like #Sincerely sewer rat #this was rushed I'm sorry

[fictionalmenxyn]

College Life, pt.2

(College student!rugby player!Ghost x college student!art student!Y/n)

Summary: Y/n shears a dorm room/apartment with the one and only Ghost one of the top three best players in rugby. Although he’s quiet he’s quite popular and well known, you aren’t so much. You two have been very close since Ghost made the first move but does Ghost what to take things further?

Tw: contact sport (no injuries) and I don’t think there are anymore but if they are plz let me know by a message <3

Idk maybe a part three like last time depends if I can fit it. Also if f/n pops up I mean it as friends name :)

It’s currently third lesson, you are walking with your friend, f/n. You both had the same lesson together which was history. As you both walked in and sat in your usual spots you both pulled out your folders and started to work considering you were doing your coursework. You were chatting and working as time went on; about halfway through the lesson there was a knock at the door. You didn’t bother looking since you were going to loose the sentence you had thought about and if you didn’t finish that sentence you’d forget (relatable irl). You placed the pen on the paper as you dotted a full stop to finish said sentence. Then you had heard your name be called. You looked over to see Ghost next to your teacher; you spoke “yes, miss?” She replied “Ghost needs you a minute” you looked over to him and got out of your chair and started to walk towards the two. Once you two stepped foot outside the classroom and shut the door he spoke “can I ask you a favour?” You politely asked “what is the favour?” He answered “since I know your really good at drawing and like really good at it. I told my coach about your drawings and he has asked if you could maybe draw us a new team badge?” You smiled at the fact he had told someone about you and your art as that was your best quality. You spoke “is there a specific day I need to do it by?” He responded “uhh about two weeks time?” You nodded and spoke “I can do that, I just need to know what he wants to be on the badge and what style he wants it” Ghost nodded and spoke “if you meet me at mr.James room at lunch he’ll probably write a list or something” you smiled and nodded. Surprisingly he had pulled you into a hug and spoke “thanks Y/n/n. This means so much” you spoke happily “glad to help, and thanks for the hug. Didn’t expect you to do that” you both chuckled and he spoke “well.. I’ll see you later, eh?” You nodded and watched him walk down the corridor (hallway). You went back into class and over to your f/n to continue doing your work. They had asked what he wanted so you told them and they smiled knowing if you two were together it would be a perfect match. Sometime later, the bell went and now it was fourth lesson and the lesson was maths. Walking in you saw the usual smart ones already there, which was nothing new. You sat in your seat knowing you were on your own, due to your other friend being off from illness. Grabbing your book you placed it on the table. But in the corner of your eye you saw someone sat next to you; looking to your left you saw Ghost. You spoke “so your sitting by me today?” He jokingly said “do you not want me to?” He chuckled while you spoke “yes.. well, I’m just wondering because I thought you’d sit with your friends?” He once again chuckled and spoke “well they can sit on the desk in front and next to me, if you don’t mind?” You spoke “not at all, I’m friends with most” little did you know he actually smiled under his mask. Now working, your pen had seemed to run out. You mumbled to yourself “damn it” Ghost placed a pen on your book and spoke “here have my spare one” you smiled and thanked him. Gosh your falling for him hard you thought, you also thought about how most people were intimidated by him but he never was like that to you through your eyes. Once you had finished all your work you checked to see if Ghost was done and he had just finished. You spoke “after lunch I’m going home” he looked down at you since there was a height difference. He spoke “ok” you asked “want me to make you something or get you anything from the shop?” He shook his head and replied “no thanks” you nodded and turned to face the front again. You watched and listened the boys talking about random topics and joined in on a few when they asked for your opinion or thoughts. After that the bell had rang and you grabbed your bag and followed Ghost as you both went to Mr.James room. Once you both got there Ghost knocked on the door and waited to be beckoned in. You and Ghost stood by the teachers desk as he wrote a quick list of things to be added to the badge. Then you went home…

Hope you enjoyed!

Make sure to request or message me if you want me to write anything.

Have a good day/night! 🫶

#task force 141 #task force 141 x y/n #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod headcanons #cod modern warfare #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost posts #ghost x y/n #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #ghost simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #college #rugby player ghost x art studen y/n

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None mostly. Goldfish slander, some minor injuries resulting from clumsiness, mentions of events from the show. Layla is here! We stan a healthy, happy divorced couple in this house >=\

A/N: There will be multiple chapters like these in this series, mostly dialogue and filler to help facilitate plot.

Taglist: @shirukitsune @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @bad4amficideas

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 4:

Old, Unhappy, Far-Off Things

"You guys can't keep doing this." Layla said over the phone.

"I know, I know." Marc sighed, running his hands through his hair. He haphazardly sprinkled some fish flakes into the tank to feed the ever chubby goldfish; looking at the glass to see Steven's reflection staring back at him, a frown creasing his features.

(Marc, you're going to make 'em pop!) Steven scolded.

"Well, how am I supposed to know how much to feed three goldfish?" Marc groaned.

"Steven told you the fish were gonna explode, eh?" Layla laughed softly.

"Yeah. Almost exactly that. I swear, I've never met a man who needs an emotional support fish." He replied, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, screwing the lid back onto the tiny container of nasty-smelling flakes.

(How dare you! Gus and his friends are members of this family! You're going to hurt their feelings!) Steven said, absolutely aghast at Marc's summary of how the little aquatic creatures fit into their lives.

(The other two don't even have names yet, hermanito.) Jake finally piped in, coming to co-front to see what all the fuss was about.

"But seriously, Marc. You have to take it easy. Just tell Khonshu to shove off and ignore his bony ass for a few days!" Layla sighed. Though they weren't married or intimate anymore, Layla still cared deeply for "her boys"; even Jake, to a point. Even if she didn't fully trust him, he was a part of Marc and Steven. Part of their system. She knew Jake was the protector. She knew that he was only violent when he absolutely had to be.

Or when Khonshu sent him after fresh targets. She still didn't like that.

"You think I haven't tried that?" Marc flopped onto the sofa, his hand resting over his face as he sighed.

"He's a god, Layla. It's not so easy to just say no."

"Taweret doesn't seem to have a problem with boundaries." She pointed out.

"Because Taweret is a big softie, Layla. She literally mothers you." Marc retorted with a grunt.

"Well… she is the goddess of motherhood. One of them, anyway." Layla conceded.

"And Khonshu is the god of being a tall, harping asshole who refuses to let me rest." Marc leaned back, closing his eyes as the leather on the sofa softly groaned under his weight.

"You think we like working for him, still? We don't. We need the suit, and people need to be kept safe..."

"Have you considered just… giving it all up? Telling Khonshu you're done? Just hang up the cape?" Layla hummed.

Marc could feel Steven and Jake fade into the background of the headspace, leaving him alone to his conversation with Layla, not enjoying the current topic at all. And it would be smarter to prevent a possible argument between Jake and Marc, right now. They had enough headaches.

"I already tried that, remember? Khonshu just used Jake before we knew he was here and had him kill Harrow."

"Right…"

"And besides…" Marc said, conspiratorially. "...I think he already has his sights set on another person to be a Moon Knight. And I don't know who it is, but I know he's going to hold it over my head. Steven, Jake and I would rather be dead than let some poor, innocent person see the shit we have."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Okay… You obviously need a mental health break. Anyplace in particular you can go to get away from everything?"

"Well… there is one place. A little shop Steven found that's nearby." Marc replied.

"Is it a bookstore?" Layla laughed.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." Marc chuckled. "Some woman runs it. American, if you can believe that. Apparently the store was her aunt's or something and she inherited it from her when she died. Steven's built a bit of a rapport with her. Me too. Kinda. She also sells stuff like coffee, tea, snacks… kind of like a one-person cafe."

"She runs it alone?"

"Yeah, impressive actually. But, it's not always safe, I saw that the other day." Marc nodeed.

"Oh? What happened?" Layla asked, wholly invested now. They had a friend? She likely didn't know about their DID, but Marc, and by that extension Steven, and possibly Jake having friends was a win in Layla's book.

"Some abusive drunk ran in after his girlfriend. Apparently she hid his girlfriend in her flat upstairs when she came in covered with bruises and freaking out." Marc said, smiling a bit at remembering your tenacity and urge to protect somebody you didn't even know. Even Jake respected you after that. And Jake respects very few people.

But it proves you were a protector, like he was. Not to the same extent, but close.

"Sounds like a good person."

"She seems like one. I just hope she doesn't get herself into trouble with anymore–ah!" Marc hissed, dropping the phone and waving his hand in the air as pain whipped through his fingertips.

"Shit!" He cursed, picking up the phone again with his other hand. He glared at the red marks appearing in his palm.

"Marc? Are you okay? What happened?" Layla asked, her voice just a hair above worried.

"Yeah, just my fucking hands again. Last week it was my shins." He grunted.

"So either you're getting old," Layla teased. "Or a certain someone hurt themselves again."

"Yeah, just wish they'd quit it. It's really inconvenient."

"That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

"What?" Marc asked, his brow furrowing as he watched the burning red marks blossom on his skin. Pretty, almost, if you were into that sort of messed-up body art.

"Marc, please don't tell me you haven't considered that every time you got hurt, your soulmate felt those pains, too?" Layla deadpanned with a sigh, most likely pinching the bridge of her nose. He could picture it now. She was probably pacing in the kitchen of her flat in Cairo; the sun illuminating her figure, making her curls glow in an amber light, highlighting her jaw as she frowned.

But the thought she triggered in his mind sent a stone dropping into his gullet. Had he really not considered that? He thought that maybe, being Moon Knight would… would dull the pains, or maybe negate them entirely. Or… was he just stupid and didn't put them into consideration?

If they can feel his pain, and he can feel theirs... what about when he…

But sometimes it felt redundant to think about and worry for someone he never met, but at the same time…

"Fuck." Marc hissed, wiping at his face.

"Oh, my gods! You haven't been careful at all have you?" Layla gasped.

"I…"

"Marc! You and the other two need to get it together and take it easy. You think you don't understand things? Imagine how your soulmate feels. They're probably going about their normal daily routines and feel it when you get shot! Oh gods, what about when we were in Egypt and you got impaled?" Layla murmured. "Gods, I almost forgot about… what about when you died? I don't even want to imagine what they felt."

Marc dropped back into the cushions staring blankly at the ceiling. She voiced the very thing he himself was hesitant to mention.

"I… I forgot about that, too." Marc said, his voice almost flat.

"I imagine they must have been confused when their mark reappeared."

"Fuck…" Marc groaned, feeling exhaustion suddenly creep into his body. But then, he jerked, gripping the back of his head. "Damn it!"

"Another pain?" Layla mused.

"God–yeah. Right in the back of my head." Marc grunted.

"Yikes. Your soulmate must not be having a good day." Layla chuckled.

"Whoever they are, they're accident-prone as all hell!" He grumbled, pouting as he rubbed the fresh sore spot.

"Pot callin' kettle, Maaaarc." Layla sang softly over the phone.

"Yeah, yeah. You sound like Steven."

"Good."

"Ugh, please don't say that." Marc said, a smirk cracking his mask of discomfort. "He's already nagging me."

"Okay, okay…" Layla quieted for a moment. "Hey, Marc?"

"Yeah?"

"I might take a trip to London. Maybe if I'm there, Taweret and I can run interference for you to give you a break." Layla suggested.

"Layla… You don't–"

"Already looking at plane tickets." She interrupted.

"Of course you are." Marc smiled. That was one of the things he loved about Layla when they first met. He was drawn to her. Her snark, her determination…

"Yeah. I'll pack a bag and hop the flight that leaves in a few hours."

"Wow, okay." Marc said, his eyes widening. "You're serious about this?"

"Who else is going to babysit you three and get Khonshu off your back if me and the Hippo Mama don't?" Layla jabbed playfully.

"Oh my god, you do not call her that." Marc snorted, shaking his head.

"She thinks it's a cute nickname. And she agrees with my plan, so…"

"Oh great. You two gonna just harp me and remind me to take my vitamins, too?"

"I mean, if we have to…"

"Ugh. You're impossible."

"But that's why everyone loves me!" Layla laughed.

"Sure, sure. And Layla?" Marc asked, looking at the mark on his wrist, a soft fond look in his eyes. It was blooming today, the rose.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem, Marc. Go hang at that bookstore and get a coffee or something, yeah?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You hurried up the stairs and rushed to your oven, frantically cursing with each step as you hauled yourself up the stairs and into your flat.

You practically ripped the oven door open, coughing as smoke filled your nostrils as the burned pastries greeted you.

"Damn it!" You whine, slipping your oven mitt on and grabbing the small pan with one hand.

Your phone started ringing and you spun on your heels to glare at the offending object secured to the wall.

"Oh, shut up, you–"

You felt the pan tip when you turned, the blackened treats threatening to fall to the floor, and without thinking you reached out with you other, unprotected hand and gripped it, before making a sharp yelp and throwing the pan onto the counter with a loud bang, blowing air over your burning and blistering hand.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You hiss, turning to your sink and hitting the tap for some cold water. The stinging subsided, if only minutely.

The phone rang incessantly again.

You dropped your shoulders and rolled your eyes with a groan, and pulled away from the soothing coldness of your tap.

But, of course, as your natural "luck" would have it… You trailed water onto your floor, and slipped into it, cracking the back of your head on the tile. Not hard enough to knock you out, no, but it was just enough to hurt, and leave a rather nasty bump.

So. There you lay, flat on your back, water still flushing into the drain of your sink, smoke detector now going off, and your house telephone ringing impertinently.

"I didn't do anything! Why're you guys always giving me the short end of the stick?" You shout at nothing in particular; maybe whatever gods could hear your lamentations and rueful words.

For extra effect, you flipped the bird with your uninjured hand.

Yeah.

Fate was a funny thing, all right.

Chapter 5: Link

#my writing #A Rose Under The Moon #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #layla el faouly #moon knight

[pieroulette]

IN THE GYM, INSIDE YOU | KEI &TEAM (TEASER)

WARNING ↪ gym sex (at hybe gym lmfao), dom!kei, sub!reader, established relationship, pet names, u calling kei as daddy, dry humping, choking, oral sex (f and m receiving), breeding kink, size training/kink, saliva play, profanity. and more u see.. 🙈

WORD COUNT ↪1.6K (the full fic are estimated to be over 10-12k lmfao PLS)

AUTHOR'S NOTE ↪ not proofread, so some minor errors and grammatical errors.. i'm just trying to get back to my momentum of posting on Tumblr again. BUT IM CRINGING ALOT HELP I CANT STOP GAGGING LMFAO-

The cool breeze of the night sky as you passed through the convenience store shot a severe chill down your spine, despite having a thick hoodie over your pyjamas. Now that you think of it, it is a bad move. Brushing the tip of your thumb across the shelf as you picked one of Kei's favourite ready-made coffee drinks, you recalled the way he called you an hour ago.

His voice dripped in a heavy tone of honey, almost like a melodic hymn of desperation as he enunciate every syllable of your name. As if he was begging for you to come as fast as you can, and when you expressed your initial concern over his odd request, he brushes it off as being exhausted by his current workout routine.

A night workout routine, he repeated.

After exiting out of the automatic door screen, your peripheral vision caught on the remnants of illusionary dusts in the form of a human, and the stray cats scattering beside the over filled trash can, and the serene moonlit sky brought about a good amount of anxiety in you. It is after all, the after dark. Where the world switches off to an underworld vibe, pulling of its black velvet cloaks with indifference that it had hidden beneath the entire sunlit day.

Screw you, Kei.

After dark was when people ripped apart their moral ethics, goodie traits, and humane characteristics—revealing their innate desires they had been keeping to their core.

"Kei?"

Not an answer did you receive as you pushed open the black velvet door, only the cool breeze of the AC and it's audible sound surrounding the gym greeted your ears. You assumed that Kei must have left.

"Hey."

Your head turned to the owner of the voice you knew so well, a lazy smile pulled up on your cheeks as you met those dark grey orbs laced with affectionate words all over it.

"Hey, Kei." Giving the ice cold can coffee to him as you approached him, "Quite cruel of you to call me at 2am, seriously."

With no hesitation, he pulled you into his embrace, leaning in closer as he buried his face in your neck, sniffing in your scent which immediately engulfed his exhausted soul in a safe amount of euphoria and craze. "I miss you, though. Don't I have the right to call my girlfriend anymore?"

"At least look at the time." You pouted as you pulled away, squinting your eyes in a playful manner. "Everyone's sleeping right now, and you're the only one pulling up a goddamn Greek god workout routine."

An audible giggle squeezed its way out of Kei's mouth, his doe eyes crinkling into crescents. "Greek god, eh? I'm a Greek god to you then?" His finger dusted off the rosy hues on the tip of your nose, cooing at your childlikeness.

"Well, maybe." You shrugged, sitting yourself leisurely on one of the gym's chairs, swaying your feet up and down. It didn't go past your eyes how Kei leaned against the pull-up machine, a loud pop emitting from his thumbs in the process of opening the can, his plump lips lapping against the edge as he slurped it down his throat—where his Adam's apples protrude in a sensual motion, one that sent havoc into your mind.

Breaking your fixated gaze onto somewhere else, you cleared your throat in attempts to take off your not so holy thoughts in a brief moment. Mentally slapping yourself on the inside, but oh well, scoring a boyfriend like Kei ain't a damn joke.

"How was work?" His melodic voice flows into your ears again.

"Tiring, but it's okay. It's my job anyway, got to have enough fat money to buy what I want. Heh." Dusting off the tips of your two fingers, mimicking the action of counting money before the boy causes his gorgeous lip to let out another audible giggle.

"I love how you're independent, it's damn cool to even think of it.. but you see, why don't you depend on me?"

"Hm?"

"Depend on me." Kei repeated with doe eyes wholly fixated on your form, "It's just a suggestion, but I would really adore having to take care of you all by my own, every little thing."

Well chosen string of words got your already tangled heart in an even tighter knot, "I could take care of myself, though. I don't need a sugar daddy yet." You stuck your tongue out in a mischievous manner, that alone had him shaking his head with a round of giggles. "But that's sweet of you, Kei."

"No, but." Pair of sneakers approach you with every low rise and down of steps, his palms having the remnants of water beads as he puts down the ice can on the machine's flat edge.

Halting his step before you with his towering height, the light above the ceiling illuminated the top of his ash strands all while casting a matte shadow on his features—giving him a somewhat eerie look, yet his orbs held so much more in it that it had you unconsciously gripping your finger on the edge.

His long finger and thumb brushes your cheek in a circular pattern, and then down to your neck. "I want to take care of you. I've been thinking since much, much long time ago. I want to look after you, care for you in every way possible. It just hurts to see you punching yourself in the chest whenever your shitty boss ruined your day."

Touched by his words, "Work days are pretty much like that, Kei. Having a shitty boss is an unfortunate bonus, that is."

Your sentences comes to a halt as you notice the way his orbs lingered on your lips, the sensation of his index finger ghostly rubbed your lower lip had your heart skipping a thump, yet you hold on to your firm character—arching the corner of your lip in a mischievous smirk. "Does my lips look that pretty for you, Mr. Kei?"

"Mr. Kei?" His plump lips pursed in a giggle, "I'd like your lips on mine, if that's okay for you, Mrs. Koga."

Enthusiasm filled your chest, and you were sure he did as well the way he confirmed your given permission through your lit up blaze eyes. His index finger on your lips found its way on the back of your neck, splayed tight. His other hand spreaded against your hips, pulling you closer to his body as he sealed your lips in his wet cavern.

Kissing Kei always felt like the first time for you. It didn't go past your notice how his warm cheeks pulled up even higher as you let him in through your tongue, tasting each other to the point of maniacal craze. Your eyelashes fluttered up to reveal your curious orbs, taking a brief glance at the wall clock behind Kei's obscured ruffled ash hair.

1:07 A.M. — The after dark where suppressed desires begin to reveal themselves, manifesting into low seductive whispers and sneaky touches.

"Scrap the sugar part," Kei's breath ghost against your ear, sending a round of butterflies in your stomach. Your eyes lingered on his swollen red lips enunciating each word in a clear hushed tone, yet sensual rhythm. "Your daddy can take care of you right here, right now."

"Now where do you want daddy to touch you?" Kei lapped his wet cavern across your neck, a slight moan left your lips at the bold gesture.

"Please."

"Please what, babygirl? You have to tell daddy where exactly he should touch you."

"I-inside me, daddy." Lust fogged your mind, yet the sight of the gym machines pushed the logical part in the surface, physically manifesting to your hands stopping Kei's ones. "We aren't going to do it here, r-right?"

You enunciate the question in confirmation, you need him inside you right now but you dead ass wouldn't want to get caught in the act and possibly ruin his career. But the way Kei's lust filled orbs lazily darted to look at behind him, it seems like he had no intention of bringing your intimacy behind an appropriate place.

"Where's the thrill then, baby?" Kei whispered, "Look it's 1am right now, I doubt someone's going to come in. But well, it would be good either way cuz' someone can see how I'll take you all to myself."

That was enough to rule your mind into overdrive, giving in to Kei and embarking in this bold dangerous act. The thrill, the suspense of getting caught, his large hands spreading all over your skin, his lips nipping onto your bare skin; everything fuels into your brazen mode.

This wild desires of exhibitionism; his greatest will to flaunt you and show to everyone that you belong to him. Kei had always been a dominant man, oozing uncontrollably from his aura ever since you first laid your eyes on him, there was no doubt. Your suspicions were further confirmed by his utmost dedication in perfecting his craft or whatever it is he deemed to be of great importance.

And one of them was romance, which immediately rooted back to you. The apple in his eyes, which he oh so desire to devour more than it takes and how he greatly detests anyone who dared to lay their hands on you.

He turns you around, your back hitting his chest and before your mind could process anything—wet slick tongue lapped across your neck down to your exposed shoulder, his fingers pulling the material each centimetre. Yet you couldn't focus on anything but on his tongue doing it's magical wonders on your skin, sending electrifying sensation into your veins and cells.

"K-kei—" his other hand flattened deep inside your shirt, stroking circular patterns on your tummy and into your navel.

"Shh, lemme take care of you." He whispered, and you didn't fail to sense his growing smirk. "Now where do we begin?"

「 © talesofyuan on tumblr 2023 」 all rights reserved. do not copy or post without permission.

#k smut #andteam smut

[three--rings]

This is one of many little Vegaspete snippets I've written in the last few months, but this one is nominally complete and I don't think it really connects to anything else, so eh I dunno here tumblr have it.

It's almost entirely innocent, or rather, T-rated, since it's still VP.

-

“Do you see how you look like this?”

Pete looked at himself in the full-length mirror. The suit was nice, sure, the collar popped open to match Vegas’s. His hair had grown longer, and was currently styled differently, with weird product. He matched Vegas next to him, in the fineness of the fabric he wore and the casually disheveled styling.

But then he looked at his face and he was just...Pete. Boring, mediocre, bland Pete. His face was out of place here.

He hated looking at himself in the mirror. He avoided it more than was strictly necessary to comb his hair and make sure he didn’t have something in his teeth.

These days, Vegas made him feel incredible, sexy and cherished. But looking in the mirror brought him back to earth, reminded him he was punching above his weight class.

A sharp pain at his waist broke him from his ruminations: Vegas’s hand pinching him.

In flinching, Pete shifted towards Vegas’s shoulder. But something else happened as well. As he turned his head, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror, through blurred eyes.

And...in that instant...in the mirror...there were two matching, stylish, gorgeous men. Pete’s breath caught and he looked, without meeting his own eyes. And for those few precious seconds...he thought perhaps he saw himself with Vegas’s eyes. Saw a prettier, slighter fae creature with a much sharper jaw-line.

And then he lost it and he was just Pete again. He blinked, and looked away from the mirror.

“You see?” asked Vegas, eager as he was when he asked Pete to yield in bed. “You see how beautiful you look?”

Pete smiled, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. “Yeah. I see. Come on, let’s get going, we’re gonna be late.”

#vegaspete #kinnporsche #vegaspete fic #my fiction #much of the snippets in my VP snippet doc may or may not ever become something #but maybe if anyone likes this I'll try to do more #this is the most I've written in weeks but also that's partially my own fault for all the gaming

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Superstition: Chapter 1

Namor x oc/reader (female)

(Currently PG-13, but likely heading towards very adult content, so read with that in mind.)

A/N: So, ya'll liked the teaser, eh? Here's a full chapter!

Tagging: Tags break my post, but I reply to comments on each new chapter when I post. Think of it as a personal, hand-written note.

Chapter 1

They said women of her kind should never touch the sea before they fell in love, that they’d lose their hearts to the waves. A forfeit to destiny or some such shit.

It was an old wives’ tale. A superstition.

But as the car careened towards the edge of the pier, rocketing over splintered wood without a hope of stopping before it hit the water, she kinda wondered if it was true. Just a little bit. The idea popped into her head like a bubble, random association as her brain fizzled through shock. Pain. Panic.

A bullet caught the driver’s side window, and it exploded in a rain of glass. Flinching away with closed eyes, she instinctively threw an arm across the wheezing, blue-skinned child in the passenger seat. The wheel jerked with the motion, and the car went over the side of the pier.

Freefall stole her belly, her sense of time, her understanding of gravity.

She had a suspended moment of clarity to reflect on her life choices, on her chances of surviving all this. In summary: she was an idiot, she missed her brothers, and she would not be seeing this adventure to its end.

None of it mattered. She had to escape, and she wasn’t about to leave the little girl with her big, terrified eyes floating in the tank beside her cell. Fuck that. The car, the pursuit, and the bullets were probably inevitable, anyway. At least she’d get the kid back somewhere she could breathe.

One of them would make it out alive.

And she’d rather bleed out from the bullet she’d caught than end her days in that cage. Or under a curious surgeon’s knife.

Better to give the ocean her heart.

They hit the water, and all was pain again. Saltwater gushed through the broken window, and the waterline climbed up the windshield much faster than she’d anticipated. But the kid looked better already. Less blue where the water swallowed her legs and chest.

Unlocking the girl’s seatbelt, she grabbed her by the arm, dragged her across her lap, and started stuffing her out the window. Hopefully she wouldn’t cut herself on the glass, but she needed to be out of the vehicle and on her way out to sea before the men with guns left their cars and started spraying the water.

“Go. Go on.” The water lapped up to kiss her chin, and ominous bubbles billowed from under the hood. She only had a few more good breaths before the car went under. “Get out of here, go.”

The kid reached through the window, pulling her arm, like she could return the favor. Scrambling to unlock her own seatbelt, she shook her head, trying to push the girl away. “I’m fine! Go!”

But as she tried to work the seatbelt free, she realized with dawning horror that the button wasn’t working. The mechanism must’ve jammed in the crash. She was anchored to her seat, and it was sinking fast.

“Fuck.”

She tipped her head back, neck straining as the surface moved up, and up, and over her face. Salt burned her eyes, and she barely saw anything beyond vague shapes in the dark water. The only light came from the full moon, and that was dwindling fast as gravity pulled her deeper. She ran her hands over the console, along the side of her seat, and along the edge of the window, looking for a shard large enough to cut herself free. But the window had shattered into diamond-sized fragments. Nothing big enough to save her.

The pressure roared in her ears, the ache bad enough to draw tears – not that she or anyone else could recognize them in this salty hell.

By the time car settled on the seafloor, about a dozen yards below the surface, she could see a faint cloud of red leaking from her side, and her brother’s taunting voice rang in her memory. “Don’t go swimming with a papercut or the water will get in, and it will get infected, and you will die.”

Well. This was no papercut, and she probably wouldn’t live long enough to get an infection, but she probably would die.

Wouldn’t he be so pleased to have been right?

She wanted him. She wanted all of her brothers. If any of the bastards shook her awake and laughed at her for being a big baby crying in her sleep she’d hug them, thank them, and never run off alone again. Or. She’d at least try. She’d really, really try.

She’d do anything.

Danu.

She didn’t want to die alone.

Thrashing in her seat, pinned as the burn in her lungs turned into frantic spasms, she clawed at the safety belt poised to end her life. Her chest was on fire. Her head felt like it might explode. How long before she broke? Before she had to breathe anything at all, even water?

Little hands clamped around her wrist, tugging.

And the damn fish kid still hadn’t left.

Fucking fuck.

The child was trying to say something. Her voice carried through the water, but she didn’t recognize the language, and it wasn’t like she could answer. Bubbles crept out her nose and she gestured out, away, towards deep water where the kid could escape their pursuers.

Shadows interrupted the moonbeams dancing over the wreck.

Gunfire, muted by the water, just barely cut through the thump of her heartbeat in her ears.

Another good tug on the seatbelt. Nothing.

She didn’t mean to open her mouth.

But she did. And the last of her air rose to stick on the roof of the sunken car in uneven bubbles. Her diaphragm jerked, inviting the sea into her lungs. It didn’t feel like water. It coursed through her like lava, an alien pressure with the soothing touch of an electrical burn.

Every limb took on a life of its own, a last ditch animal reaction to scramble for oxygen. A slow-motion blur of terror and agony as her brain shut down.

The last thing she felt was the seat belt’s sudden release, weightlessness, and hands on her shoulders.

Hands much too large to be a child’s.

----------------------------------------------

She dreamt of cold and dark. The maw of the ocean rising to swallow her as a jellyfish pasted itself over her face.

She dreamt of fire in her lungs and strangers’ voices as swirling black swallowed the moon and stars. No lights to guide her home. No wind to breathe.

Sinking.

Drowning – in water or in air. It didn’t matter.

Shivers quaked through her half-conscious mind as she floated towards awareness, and a sharp pain nearly brought her round. Fingers pushing through the hole in her side conjured iron on her tongue, and she writhed against the weight of hands pushing her down.

But she didn’t wake enough to hear her own screams, though they burned in her throat, and she drifted again.

Soft voices carried through the grey. She didn’t understand them, but a matronly hand pressed to her forehead once, blessedly cool against the fever turning her body into a cauldron. Thick wrinkles and shushing whispers. When it left, she might’ve cried, but without strength to reach for the hand, she could only sink back from the edge of light.

The dark promised peace. Quiet. Recovery or a final end, she wasn’t sure, and if she could resist, she would. She’d call for her brothers, swim back to them, find a grip and never let go again.

But she had nothing left beyond nightmares.

She was a child again, bare feet along the cool stone of a rath’s passage – a fortress made a home, full of places to explore and trouble to find. Tired of her brothers and her cousins, she followed the dim hall alone to the golden light of the crafting room.

“Máthair?”

Her mother’s work always inspired reverence. Her dexterous fingers wove the future, capturing fate and fortune in her patterns. At play, over breakfast, when she tucked her children in at night, the stately woman with whisps of grey threading stories through her hair was Mam. At the loom, she was the Weaver, and a Weaver deserved respect, so right now she was Máthair.

Máthair made the most beautiful things. Told the most beautiful stories. Wise men turned to her for advice, like her father, and strong men followed her words in war, like her biggest brother. She listened because the Weaver was her Mam, and Mam loved her children very much, even at her loom.

“Here, Caoimhe.” Her Máthair took her little fingers and pressed them against a silver line dancing between colorful strings. A moonbeam, or a wave, alive and whispering a tale in a voice like her own. She bit her lip, smiling as she traced it, oh-so-careful not to snag the delicate pattern with her broken nails – she played hard, and her brothers played harder.

“This is your thread, a stór. Do you like it?”

“Yes, Máthair.”

But as she spoke, the thread wobbled under her touch, turning wet. An ocean seeped free, pouring from the line like a waterfall, and she took a quick step back, gasping in her high, childish voice as the water pooled quick and cold around her ankles.

The rest of the woven threads burst into flame, and the whole piece peeled off the loom, sinking with churning bubbles as the water rose.

“Mam?”

She looked, but her Máthair, her Mam, had disappeared, and when she turned back to the loom, it had gone, too, replaced with a windshield webbed in cracks.

Trapped. Sinking.

Bubbles rose like a wall, screaming in a discordant choir as they climbed towards the surface, more ghosts than air.

She whined, tugging on her seatbelt as her hands became a woman’s again, and she called for help.

“Deartháireacha!”

Salt water sloshed past her open lips, and she choked, pleading.

“Cabhair liom.”

No one heard, and the sea rushed in, eager to claim its forfeit. It would serve her heart to sharks and sea lice, to the blind things in the deep, deep dark that didn’t know of the sun, or the moon, or the stars. Her family would never find her bones, and her soul would be lost to those sunless places, crushed and alone forever.

The water closed over her. The world turned blue.

And she opened her eyes.

The fish girl sat beside her, a transparent mask over her nose and mouth like the jellyfish she’d dreamed of. Once she realized Caoimhe was awake, the kid snatched her hand from where it rested in a … hammock?

Bouncing on her feet, holding Caoimhe’s hand in both of hers, she chanted, “Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello!”

Which was interesting because she knew for a fucking fact the girl didn’t speak a lick of English before the accident. She’d tried entertaining her when they were trapped, and she tried explaining her plan when they fled, but no one could fake the blank, confused expression she earned for her efforts.

How long had she been asleep? Or was she still unconscious? Was this the figure her subconscious had chosen to guide her towards the afterlife?

Half convinced she was still dreaming, she croaked a raspy, “Hello,” of her own, and the flinching pain finally convinced her she’d really, truly woken.

In a hammock.

With the fish girl.

Who suddenly spoke English.

The fuck?

Nothing else in the space made any more sense. It looked like a cave, full of stalactites and stalagmites, some of which looked like they’d grown more or less naturally into screens. Or bars.

Another cage?

Just as her breath caught on a hiccup of fear, figures moved on the other side of the apparent bars and opened a door. They looked like the kid. Blue-skinned, wearing the gelatinous face mask and similar clothes. Two women and a man. She thought she recognized the wrinkled skin on the elder woman’s hands, and when she settled one of those hands on Caoimhe’s forehead, she was sure of it.

The woman smiled, pleased by whatever she’d found. When her hand dropped, Caoimhe checked her head herself, like she’d grown letters there she could read with her fingertips.

Had she developed a fever maybe…?

While her hand was by her head, she checked to see if her hair still covered her ears. It did. Thank Danu. She lowered her arm back to her side before anyone noticed.

The woman – the kid’s grandmother? – addressed the other two adults, and a drop of relief soothed their tight expressions. Though hardly relaxed, the good news lifted at least one of their many concerns, and they hurried to move forward.

“It’s good you’re awake.” The younger woman brought a stool beside the hammock, and the child rested her head against the woman’s knee as she sat. “We did not know if your fever would break.”

“Thank you,” Caoimhe said in her rough voice. Had she screamed a lot in her sleep, or was it a consequence of drowning? “For pulling me out of the water.”

Very carefully, she sat up, mindful of the pull in her side where the bullet hit. Something soft and a little slick rubbed over her skin, wrapped tight to her wound, but she couldn’t bring herself to look. Not yet. She didn’t want to see the damage. She didn’t want to see some strange thing she didn’t understand holding her together. Not yet.  

The light, she realized, came from overhead. Glowworms. They cast an eternal twilight through the space, and she swallowed reflexively, wondering what in the fuck she’d gotten herself into.

“Where…” She looked back to the woman, probably the child’s mother. “Where are we?”

Inclusive language. Non-accusatory. No need to ruffle any feathers. Great damn need to orient herself, though.

Stiffening even as she tried to keep her face placid, the woman shook her head softly, saying, “I will do my best to answer your questions, but our king must speak with you first.”

Her turn to stiffen. Her breathing kicked up a notch, and she wrestled against the urge to hyperventilate.

The time had come to talk of many things, of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings and why the sea is boiling hot.

She’d never heard of these people. They dressed in a fashion she might call Mayan, but she’d never heard of blue folk who breathed water, and she was getting the terrible, pressured sensation of being underwater. Like the ceiling would crack and the entire ocean would drop on her head at any second.

The little girl, still holding her hand, must’ve noticed her pulse jump, and she asked something in her parents’ language. The woman put a reassuring hand on her wrist, just above her daughter’s double grip.

“You saved our child. Our king will explain. Then we will talk.”

Caoimhe floundered, wincing as she strained to rise. “Can I – can I get up for this?”

The woman had eyes like Caoimhe’s oldest brother. A warrior’s eyes, looking within while analyzing without. She listened to the reason behind the question, the request for assistance, the desire to face their king out of bed, with a little more dignity and control than she’d find in the hammock.

Nodding, she rose from the stool and supported Caoimhe’s elbow. “Here.”

The woman helped her up, assuring she wouldn’t fall as she used her legs for the first time in…? As she gained her balance and cautiously assumed the seat with the little girl mirroring her mother’s support with much less efficacy under her other arm, the old woman Caoimhe assumed was the grandmother swooped a blanket over her shoulders, murmuring something under her breath.

Smirking, the mother said, “My mother says you look cold.”

Was she? She looked down and found gooseflesh creeping down her arms. Sometime between her rescue and recovery, they’d changed her into a simple white dress like the women of the family wore. Now that she mentioned it, she could definitely feel the damp air of the cave leeching heat from her skin. She’d been too uncomfortable to notice much besides the thrumming ache in her side and the fear stewing in the back of her thoughts.

“Thank you.”

The woman nodded again, but Caoimhe had a point to make. If things went poorly with their king, as the mother’s posture suggested it might, she wanted to make sure they knew she appreciated what they’d already done for her. “Really. Thank you. All of you.”

Regret flashed through the mother’s expression, followed by a wave of steely determination. She set her hands on Caoimhe’s shoulders, demanding her focus before she spoke. “We will speak again soon.”

Already feeling the weight of her own body, worn out by the effort of sitting up, she conserved her strength. She took her cue from the woman, nodding her agreement.

The woman straightened, her hands slipping away, and Caoimhe pulled the blanket tighter around her neck. Physical proof she wasn’t alone, that someone in this place wished her well. It immediately became the first comfort blanket she’d indulged in since she was six. Maybe, like that one, woven through with her mother’s magic, it would keep her safe.

The family left, and she summoned an anemic smile for the little girl before her parents towed her around the corner and out of sight. They closed the door as they went, and she sat in the cell, shivering and focusing on her breaths.

In and out.

Still alive.

In and out.

Lost.

Her breath caught. Fell out of rhythm.

Out and in.

At a stranger’s mercy.

Her half-drowned thoughts from the sinking car echoed in the present. She didn’t want to die. Not alone. Not so far from her family, her only real home. She wanted Eóghan to cluck over the bullet wound and put her together while Aodhfin called her twenty kinds of stupid. She even craved Dara’s disappointed glower, the weight of his brows dipping low with responsibility as he tried to express the gravity of the situation. Explaining everything she might’ve lost, what that would mean for the ones she loved.

And now she’d gone and lost herself, and once again she sent up silent prayers full of promises she knew she couldn’t keep.

Danu, Mother, let me go home and I’ll never wander again. I will be calm and still and –  

The door opened.

Her heavy thoughts had pulled her eyes to the floor, and she jerked to attention, startled to find a man watching her from the entrance to the cell.

His golden skin lacked the blue tint the kid and her family had out of the water. His ears narrowed to sharp points, and when he continued into the space, she saw the wings on his ankles.

Even without the heavy ornamentation he wore, he was every inch a king. Tall. Proud. So confident in his control of the situation he took a second stool and sat across from her.

No need to tower. To posture.

She was no threat, and he wanted her to know.

“What is your name?”

An inquisition, then. Not a friendly chat. Not yet at least. His measured tone left no room for anything but a truthful answer.

Fortunately, she had no good reason to withhold her name. The mother had given her the impression everything would be alright if she cooperated. She could give this much.

“Caoimhe.”

His chin angled up, and though he didn’t say it out loud, she could see him repeating her name in his head.

“My people call me K’uk’ulkan.”

A name she’d seen on paper. Never heard aloud. She remembered finding it in old books of mythology Dara collected. He always said their people were proof there was more to legend than empty stories. The name belonged to a fierce entity, something to be worshipped. More than a king, then.

The man named for a god observed her, gave her a moment to process what she clearly knew. Then he let the other name fall.

“My enemies call me Namor.”

The sharp dichotomy disturbed her, and she recalled the concern in the mother’s eyes. A diplomatic policy dividing the world into those he was sworn to protect and those he had reason to kill did not leave much room for negotiation. It also explained why she’d never heard of his people beyond the faintest trace of myth.

She tried not to pull away. Tried not to let her shoulders bow in an attempt to look smaller. She was what she was. She couldn’t change for this king. She shouldn’t give him the impression she could be forced to.

“And anyone else?”

His eyebrows lifted, and his eyes pierced hers. A note of challenge. “There is no one else.”

“Where does that leave me?” She often played word games with her brothers. It was fun to twist the truth to dance over a lie, to angle shadow and light in new ways across old ideas. But this wasn’t a game, and she needed answers. In all her years of play, she’d learned the bluntest tools sometimes made the best weapons. “Last I checked, I don’t turn blue.”

His tone didn’t change – this was still very much a matter of life and death – but cool amusement glittered in his eyes. “Where do you think that leaves you, surface dweller?”

She shifted, not quite squirming, keeping her eye on him. Holding still never came naturally to her, and now it was absolutely draining. He definitely noticed, and she hated it. “I’m not dead yet. Someone’s gone to great lengths to keep me that way.”

He flashed a grin, and she found he had a charming smile. Ridiculously charming, considering the circumstances. His confidence here was not at all a show. The consequences of this interaction would not touch him long, and he could afford to treat her blithely.

“Not such great lengths, but yes. Atziri wouldn’t leave your side, and her mother is one of my warriors. She argued it was a matter of honor, so I pulled you from the wreck, and her family has cared for you.”

He’d given her more information than the child’s family seemed comfortable giving. That was something. “The kid’s name is Atziri?”

A drop of warmth swam through the amusement in his eyes. Either he approved of the question, or the girl had carved out a soft spot in her king’s heart.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad she’s alright.”

It wasn’t a ploy. She was genuinely glad. Just as she would’ve been genuinely pissed if anything happened to the girl after she lost consciousness. Dying a hero and dying an idiot rode the same thread of fate.

The king huffed, white teeth gleaming as he only half-repressed his laugh. “She is much… hardier than you.”

Rude.

But probably true.

“Of course, I couldn’t help noticing you’re no ordinary surface dweller.”

Two long fingers reached out towards her face, and – bemused – she let them. She didn’t understand what he wanted, what he was doing. She hadn’t hurt her face as far as she knew, and her puzzled frown grew as the fingers passed her cheek –

And smoothed back her hair to touch the delicate point of her ear.

Fight or flight instincts carried her out of the conversation and a few steps across the cell before his hand could lower – or touch her again.

Her back met the wall as her stool clattered to the floor. Not nearly far enough. The damn stone felt maliciously designed, like the glass of the laboratory cell. And of course it was. There were bars, weren’t there? This was a prison.

Her heart kicked in her chest, the extra oxygen and adrenaline flooding her system as muscles tensed for a fight and her vision narrowed to the immediate threat.

He hadn’t moved. Hand still suspended, he drank in her reaction, studying her in a new light with a determined focus that swallowed the scraps of playful warmth he’d shown before. She told him things. With her wild eyes. Her desperate breaths. Her swift and sudden fear at being noticed. At being found out.

Clearly, he knew the ways of hidden things. He followed a very different path to secrecy, but one of his own ended up in the same hands that took Caoimhe, so even if they followed different routes, they forded the same rivers. They faced the same obstacles. The same consequences greeted their mistakes, and this – proving whatever suspicions he already had – must be another misstep.

She’d told him too much, and she rushed to banish her instinctive reaction, to distract from the cool calculations turning in the man’s eyes.

“Do you always touch women without asking permission?”

It was like slamming a door in his face. Don’t look here. Don’t wander in. Recognize you’ve strayed where you are not welcome and take a step back for both our sakes.

And, to her great surprise, he did.

The hand fell so he could rest an elbow on his knee, head tilting a fraction. Mischief twinkled through the curiosity in his eyes. No one with his kind of power should be able to summon such boyish charm. It was damn dangerous.

“May I touch you?” He smiled. A beautiful man used to getting his way.

“No. You may not.” She drew herself up. A determined prisoner prepared to bite anyone who dared breach her consent.

She wasn’t flirting. He might be.

Still grinning, like her diversion was a game he enjoyed, he lifted his hands to his shoulders, palms out, before dropping them to his knees.

She tried to think of a distraction from the distraction. This was not a very safe topic for an injured woman kept behind bars to banter over with a king. When she drew boundaries, only his honor and tastes prevented him from stepping across.

“Atziri greeted me in English when I woke up.”

His grin slowly closed, though a curl lingered at the corner of his mouth. “I ordered her mother to start teaching her. You are her responsibility now, and she must acknowledge that burden.”

Learning one of the least sensical and most unnecessarily complicated languages on the planet wasn’t a short-term investment. He called her a burden. She imagined she could feel the weight of seatbelt across her lap and chest again, anchoring her to the bottom of the sea.

Maybe she didn’t escape her death. This didn’t sound like rescue.

As she came to that realization, he read it in her face.

Once again, she shared too much, and he nodded as her expression fell towards despair.

“There was a choice to make.” His eyebrows lifted, just a little, opening his expression so she could read him in turn. Earnestness. It had been no easy decision, and her situation was urgent. Hadn’t she felt herself slipping towards the world of ghosts?

He continued, lancing the wound so as not to draw out her suffering.

“We could not leave you on the shore. You would be found again, and besides, you’d already seen Atziri.” 

She closed her eyes, wondering how she could still breathe as the gravity of his words gathered like rocks in her stomach.

Fine. Danu heard her. She didn’t die alone. But she’d never be with her brothers again. Judging by the cave and the people who needed water to breathe, she’d probably never see the stars again either.

Fucking fuck. This couldn’t be right. It wasn’t what she meant. Not at all. At the gates of death, she wanted her family. She wanted the sun.

This was all wrong.

Her knees buckled. Brought low by physical weakness and the king’s blow to her hope, she sank down the wall.

“You will stay here, the permanent guest of Atziri’s family. They will return the life they owe you, and you will keep Talokan’s secrets.”

Resolute. As hard as the polished jade in his ears. The decision had already been made, and her only choice was whether to let her tears fall now – in front of him – or later – alone. Opening her eyes took courage. And it took skill to pull the water back, to flutter her lashes just so, banishing the drops before they fell.

He approached on his winged feet as she pulled herself together, taking a knee just far enough back to not let her keep her personal space. Apparently he’d learned after touching her ear. He didn’t want to set her off, an unnecessary kindness that looked pallid in the shade of the entire life he’d just taken away. There was compassion in his gaze, but not enough to save her.

“I can always give you a quick death.”

An offer of mercy, but the finality of her only available alternative sent chills flooding down her spine. Under her blanket, she shuddered.

He picked up each hint to her thoughts, collecting the pieces of herself she so carelessly dropped, and grew a new smile.

“Though, after all the time and effort that my people have invested in your recovery, that would be a terrible waste.”

#namor x reader #namor x oc #namor fanfiction #superstition fic

[fanfic-chan]

Snow Days and Broken Zippers

Heya @lovelynim !! Surprise! I'm your secret santa for this year! I'm so sorry this took so long to finish, but I had a really great time writing for these two and it was a great opportunity to work on something for one of the more obscure fandoms I don't often get to write for! I hope you like it!!^^

Wordcount: 638

Summary: Noe, after spending a gleeful morning playing out in the snow, accidentally ends up damaging the wintercoat he'd borrowed from a certain vampire doctor. Shenanigans ensue, and perhaps some people turn out to be just a little more childish than they'd like to admit.

Snap!

That was the sound of Noe's doom, his eyes widening slightly in surprise as the zipper he'd just been tugging on had popped right off the winter coat he was borrowing.... Vanitas' wintercoat, to be exact..

He hadn't meant to break it, really. He'd just gotten a little ahead of himself to get it off after playing out in the snow all day 'like a child', as Vanitas had put it earlier that morning, when he'd tried to pry the buzzkill of a human out of bed to go play with him.

This was fine though. Totally fine! Maybe he could fix it before Vanitas-

"Mm.. Noe? I see you're finally done prancing around in the snow... I can't believe you tried waking me up to- Eh?! The heck Noe?! Is that my coat you just broke?!"

And.. he was already here. Great...

"Vanitas! I, uh-" Noe stammered, smiling nervously as the irritated human approached to inspect the damage that had been done, snatching the broken zipper from him with a small pout, and Noe might have even laughed if not for the guilt he was feeling right now.

Before he could even begin to apologize though, a sudden tingling sensation on his sides caught him by surprised, causing him to stifle a small unexpected laugh as the irritated human suddenly began tickling him, expression a mixture of both annoyance and mischief as he squeezed the poor vampire's sides mercilessly.

"V-Vahahanitas?! W-Wait, what are you-"

Noe stammered, letting out a small squawk of protest as he was suddenly backed into the door behind him, leaving him no room to try and escape his current predicament as he plead with his friend, to no avail.

"Punishing you, of course. Isn't it obvious?" The blue eyed man answered, snickering evilly as he finally pinned the guilty looking vampire in place, pinching and prodding at the his sides while he started to crumble to the floor. "Shouldn't have broken my good winter coat Noe~." He cooed as he followed him down, causing his poor victim to squeak throygh helpless giggles.

"I- hehehehe! I dihihidn't- I didn't mehehean too!!"

Noe squealed out as he desperately tried to curl himself into a ball, twisting and turning in a useless attempt to free himself from the unfortunate situation he'd found himself in, with very little success. And after a few more minutes, it was beginning to look like he could end up stuck in this situation for a good long while, atleast until Vanitas decided to show some mercy... Which unfortunately, didn't seem likely anytime soon..

That is, unless he decided to play a little dirty too...

Now, would that be fair, considering the situation? Not really... But would it be funny? Absolutely.

Deciding to go through with his plan, Noe allowed himself to sink just a little further to the floor as he laughed more openly, pretending to give into the silly punishment, and once he'd lured the human into a false sense of security of having him properly subdued, he took action, subtly reaching up one arm to grab the doorknob, twisting it until the door suddenly swung open, a wave of freezing cold December air bursting into the house in an instant as they both tumbled backwards a bit.

Noe, still being safely wrapped in warm winter clothing, was totally fine, while Vanitas on the other hand, still dressed in nothing more than a set of thin pajamas, let out an embarrassingly high pitched squeal in response to the cold, before clumsily scrambling to his feet and retreating further into the house, shouting promises of merciless revenge and karma to come later, and despite the threats, Noe couldn't help but laugh.

Despite what Vanitas might say, perhaps that human was actually the more childish of the two of them afterall...

#case study of vanitas #ler!vanitas #lee!noe #case study of vanitas tickling #tickling #ss2k23