#nobody was requesting anything so i took matters into my own hands

[redcoralpot]

Stu!! I love seeing ppl love him. Would I be able to request some roleswap ish au, where reader is a slasher, and stu is the "final girl". He gets caught ofc, and reader unmasks, smut ensues (maybe stu had a crush or smth, maybe dubcon if u accept it).

Unrelated: Loved seeing Matthew lillard as william Afton, he did so good.

Ruined Man - Stu Macher X M!Reader

Summary: Stu Macher was a classic rich boy; arrogant, eccentric, and an asshole. He was known for playing cruel pranks on others, and earlier in the weak, he pranked Sidney by scaring her as the infamous Ghostface Killer. Maybe, just maybe, he deserved a taste of his own medicine. Trick or treat, right?

Warnings: NSFW, non-fatal violence, weapons.

Word Count: 2K

A/N: I don't write anything with SA, CNC, or dub-con; Stu plainly consents to the activities described. He has implied feelings for the Reader, and other implied activities as well... but I'll let you discover that part.

-

-

Crickets chirped in the grass, the crescent moon high in the sky. Finally, the noise from the Macher’s Halloween party had died down, and most people had left already, causing a blanket of peace to float down on the street. Any stragglers were drunkenly slumped against the curb, blacked out or calling for a sober ride. Your mask stuck out from the shadows, exaggerated and white, as you watched the property slowly become empty. Well, empty except for the host, of course. Stu Macher.

You could see him through one of the many windows, lounging on the first floor’s living room couch, still moving. Your fingers fumbled against the phone’s dial– god, how do killers run in this shit– pulling the black fabric further up your arm to position the voice changer closer to your mouth. Now, you patiently waited for the other man to pick up, seeing him jolt out of his position. Stu rubbed his eyes, and stumbled to the kitchen.

“Yo?”

Your lips curled into a nasty sneer, “Do you like scary movies, Stu?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Don’t make me choose, you know I’ve watched too many good ones!”

…

Huh? There was no way he knew your identity already. You’ll give him credit, he’s smart, but most definitely not that smart. Stu always visits the rental store Randy works at, and he always rented horror movies with Sidney’s boyfriend, Billy Loomis; that much you knew. He could not have seen you through the window before he ran into the kitchen, and even if he managed to, your mask was still securely strapped on.

“You still there? I haven’t dropped off Hellraiser yet, you could've just asked if you wanna watch it again.”

You hung up, breath quickening. Stu wasn’t scared, even though you were using the same voice changer as the loose, prank-calling murderer running around the streets of Woodsboro. You dumped the phone on the ground, hidden behind a bush. If he wasn’t scared by a little sound-a-like, that was fine, you came prepared. Stu’s garage door had been left open, and you jogged over. Frankly, it didn’t matter how much the rich boy had it coming, you were never doing this again. The costume’s long fringes caught on your feet, almost causing you to trip as you avoided the windows; less silent than you had hoped. Your shoes shuffled against the concrete, and you jiggled the handle of the only door, praying it would open. It creaked as you slipped inside, your shoes surely creasing when you tiptoed into the living room. From behind the couch, you could see that Stu was still in his kitchen, but he was looking around.

He grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Nobody else’s here, Billy. You don’t gotta sneak into my house, you know that!”

 Sighing, you watch him leave the room to wander about the hallways, stopping by the door you had snuck through– and forgot to close. He squinted, looking at the mistake, and back at the living room. Your cheeks burned, adrenaline starting to pump in your veins as he took a few steps closer. 

“C’mon, you wanna have a movie marathon? It’s kinda late for that, but whatever. I have plenty of snacks left from the party, and a whole lot more puke!”

Stu turned away at the last second, choosing instead to sprint down into the bathroom. You could hear a muffled, “Gotcha… nope,” over rustling cloth as you crawled on your hands and knees into the kitchen. The freezing tile shocked any distraction from your system, and you stood up, settling into the darkest part of the kitchen. One of your hands held a dull knife, while the other held the little voice changer machine. However, your position left you without visuals on your victim. You were tempted to pull down your hood, but that would be too reckless, especially since he seemed to think you were his dearest friend. Oh, man, he didn’t know what was coming. 

“Y’know I love pranks, man, but time’s up,” He probed, leaning on the marbled island, just out of reach.

Stu visibly flinched as he turned around and found you staring at him, the mask’s empty eyes giving nothing away. It took him but a second to recover, yet, and a smile accompanied his wild eyes, “Billy!”

You tilted your head, slowly raising your left hand, “Incorrect.”

He didn’t have time to respond; you lunged. You gripped his collar in a fist and slammed him into the countertop– he winced. Stu tried pushing you back, but it was in vain, your knife already threatening to pierce his throat.

Your full weight was on the man, and he raised his hands in defeat. Stu’s chest rose and fell in hefty patterns; you snickered at his obedience. His head slumped back as you released his shirt, in favor of wrenching your mask off to face him.

“Surprise, Macher.”

Stu chuckled, chewing on his bottom lip, “Didn’t know you were in on it too.”

“In on what– aren’t you scared?” You growled, pressing the knife into the flesh of his neck, but not enough to draw blood.

“Dunno,” his back arched, causing a drop of blood to drip down his shirt, “I think you could’ve done better!”

You flipped him over, slicing a fringe off of your costume to tie his hands with. Your hips were in between his thighs, leaving him trapped, and the robe itself fell on the floor beside its mask. Stu giggled, hoisting up his torso with his elbows.

“It’s payback; you could use some.”

He winced as you pulled his hair, “Hngh, it was Billy’s idea.”

“Don’t act innocent.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it, tough guy?”

You rasped, moving to step back, “Nothing you don’t want; I think the prank’s done enough.”

Stu seemed to freeze, albeit briefly, but he wrapped his ankles around your hips– preventing you from running. Your hands brushed against them, tense, as his shoulders shook.

“I wanna.” A smile laced his tone.

“You sure?”

“I’m pose-itive,” he joked, “get it?”

You wrenched his mouth open, pressing down on his tongue with your thumb, “Shut it.”

He nodded, trying his best to close his lips around your finger. Your other hand trailed down his side, taking its sweet time, before landing on his waist. Saliva still connected your fingers to his mouth as you removed them, all in favor of lifting his hips. Underneath, you unzipped his jeans, taking extra care to avoid giving any friction. When you stepped back to slide them off of Stu, he whined, his hips still chasing your touch. His jeans were thrown aside, and you slid back in your place. You knew he could feel your breath on his neck.

Your crotch ground against his ass, a shiver spreading across his spine. Stu was audibly panting; his head was hanging low and he pushed his hips to meet your thrusts. You hummed, choosing to drag the knife in soft strokes down his back, the cool metal only just piercing his skin. Red oozed in thick droplets out of the wounds, some getting big enough to trickle down his back. The pain seemed to follow it down, as Stu made quite the pathetic noise. 

“We’ve barely even gotten started, Macher, and you’re this desperate already?” You teased.

“Mm, show me what ‘cha got!”

You chuckle and suck a bruise onto the back of his neck. From that position, you could hear a groan rumble in his throat, but it wasn’t strong enough to escape. Hm, you could change that. You sunk the edge of your teeth into a different spot, holding on for a second before soothing the bite with your tongue. If the bruise didn’t make what happened obvious, well, this would. Stu would just have to deal with it. Though, you doubt he’d mind.

The knife clattered onto the marble counter after you dropped it, Stu’s thighs twitching, “Where’s the lube?”

Stu didn’t answer, but only whined.

“Use your words, pretty boy.”

His voice shook, trying to form words past used lips, “Bathroom.”

“Louder, I didn’t hear you the first time.”

Stu wiggled against your weight, “C’mon, man– f-fuck, it’s in the bathroom, please!”

You tutted, a cruel grin on your face, “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You didn’t need directions, and as soon as you were out of his view, you practically ran there. Hell, you weren’t gonna miss out on this chance, were you? Stu, the eccentric boy that played downright evil pranks on anybody that breathed around him, reduced to a perverted degenerate. Perhaps he was already like that, and you wouldn’t be surprised. 

The lube was in a small, portable bottle that was half empty when you found it. Back in the kitchen, you poured the majority of what was left in your palm and fingers. Using just two, for the moment, you spread it over his hole; a finger may have dipped in every once and a while, in the process. 

“I wanna, I wanna do it already,” Stu shuddered, his fidgeting acting up again.

A finger eased its way inside, a little too easily, much to your surprise, “Not yet.”

“I really wanna.” Another, just as simply.

“That’s too bad;” you mused, “have you been fingering yourself?”

He bit down on his bottom lip, the taste of iron filling his mouth, “Uhuh, uhuh.”

“To what?”

“Y-you, and me.” 

You spread the final bit over your dick, before pressing your hand into the sides of his neck, “You little pervert. Bet you loved getting a glimpse of me in the locker room, yeah?”

“Yeah, yes, yes– oh, shit.” Stu’s little tangent was interrupted by you slamming inside; the sting melted in with pleasure as you brushed his prostate.

Only for a moment did you stop to let him adjust, before pulling out and thrusting again. You found a rhythm, and the counter rubbed against his cock as you continued, smearing precum over the wood. His hands, still bound, scrabbled for anything to hold onto, but in vain. His nails just slid off of the smooth stone, his drool making it even slippier. Stu squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a knot grow in his gut. 

He clenched around you, causing you to grunt, “‘M gonna cum, please let me cum, please, please… ah!”

“We’re not done yet,” you hissed, firmly slapping his thigh.

“I can’t hold it, man, I really can’t,” he sobbed out, eyelashes wet from unreleased tears.

A sharp pain on his shoulder burned through any restraint the guy had, the knot unraveling as quickly as it had formed. Stu thrashed, the fringe snapping, and his vision whited out. His brain was all fuzzy; the only thing he could focus on was gripping the edge of the counter. Stu’s face was smushed against the counter, crimson mixing with the white surface. He shivered, eyes heavy, feeling a little floaty when a thick liquid dripped down his thighs. You pulled out of him, rubbing his waist as you did so.

“Good job, Macher. That was one hell of a show you put on, ” you sighed.

“Hhn.”

His body was limp as you turned him over, using the oven towel to start to clean him up, “How’re you feeling?”

Stu finally opened his eyes, using all of his strength to grin up at you, “Dude… that was like, awesome.”

“Pfft, you sound out of it.”

“Eh, what makes you say that? I want a big glass of water!”

You cackled, leaving his side to shuffle through a cabinet full of fancy cups, finally choosing a sturdy looking mug. He grabbed it as soon as it was in arms reach, taking huge gulps from it, like he had been starved. Or, more so dying of thirst. 

When he finished, you softly said, “Do you need help getting into bed?”

Stu shrugged, so you took that as a yes. You heaved him over your shoulder, supporting him up the stairs as he giggled the whole way. As you tucked him in, you swore you could hear something from down in the kitchen.

A phone’s ring.

-

Taglist: @jaspeywasy89 , @cannabrisano , @fandomz-brainrot

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#x male reader #male reader #lgbtq #male y/n #gay #x dom male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #x reader #x top male reader #stu macher x male reader #stu macher x you #stu macher x reader #stu macher x y/n #scream franchise #scream 1996 #scream #scream movie #stu macher

[1-800-c3dr1c]

Hi, I saw that you have open requests. could you write a story about Neuvilette and his partner where Neuvilette learns that the traveler told his partner that he is a dragon. but the reader had something to do, so she would leave Fontaine for a few days. on the other hand, Neuvilette would think that this is why she does not want to see him, because she has been hiding from him until now, and of course because of this there would be a hell of a storm in Fontain. i like angst but with a happy ending. Thank you I love you. 🥺👉👈

LONELINESS. neuvilette angst to fluff oneshot. female reader. <3 SPOILERS FOR THE 4.1 ARCHON QUEST. DO PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

requests are: open! please look at the pinned post for characters i will write for. <3 let me know if you’d like to be in my tag list for whenever i post anything related to neuvilette under this post as well, or in my inbox!

OH MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING NEUVILETTE, I LITERALLY LOVE THIS MAN AND I HOPE THAT YOU LIKE THIS!! <3

“he’s a dragon.” were most certainly not the first words you’d expected the traveler to utter when you two met after they had come back from the fortress of meropide. you had stared at them, baffled, asked them to repeat what they had told you despite not even hearing yourself speak. and they did.

“he’s a dragon.” and that’s when it clicked. your partner, the iudex of fontaine, was the hydro dragon. how had you not realized this sooner? you had caught little bits of his grief even when he never explicitly stated it, and when you did it just so happened to rain. but you didn’t want to believe it at first.

“you’re lying.” you didn’t even hear yourself contradicting them, the words just sputtered out absently, as if you had no idea what you were doing. which you didn’t.

“i’m sorry,” the traveler just shook their head, knowing they couldn’t exactly get you to see through your own fantasies of not recognizing the truth. they knew you’d come to your senses soon, but you needed to be left alone.

and left alone you had been. they had walked away, leaving you to stare after them, attempting to collect your thoughts.

your partner was the hydro dragon. it was such an unfathomable thought, but the more you thought about it, the more likely it was. and yet, time was cruel.

you could not ask him about it now, no. you had a mission outside of fontaine, and you knew you’d be gone for a few days. you had been planing to tell neuvilette this, but you had never gotten a chance. today was your last day in fontaine, and you would leave in two hours.

you knew that he would not be back in less than two hours. despite that, you waited until the very last moment for him to come home, for you to be able to tell him what you knew.

but you simply wouldn’t, or rather, couldn’t. when the time came, you simply took your bag, walked off, and didn’t look back.

neuvilette had thought differently. he had chosen to take a few days off of work after the traveler had told him they had accidentally let it slip to his partner that he was the hydro dragon. ever since then, he hadn’t even seen her. grief-stricken and thinking that she hated him with her entire being for hiding such a big secret, it was constantly raining in fontaine. people were no longer walking the streets, and fontaine was neatly flooded in itself.

the traveler had tried to calm him down, but it had been no use. he actually started crying. not just the feeling of grief, but actually tears rolled down his cheeks. hence why, he stayed in his office all day, allowing little to nobody in except for the traveler and a few select melusines.

“she hates me,” he murmured to himself, the thought having been running through his head for many days now. ever since she left, that’s all that has been on the poor iudex’s mind. “she hates me.” he repeated, finding that it may just end up being the truth, no matter how much he didn’t want to believe it.

until you had walked into his office, startled to see that his face was tear-stained. you quickly walked over to him, but he hadn’t even registered that you had walked in yet.

“neuvilette?” you whispered his name, standing right beside him. this shocked him out of his thoughts, and he turned to you.

“y/n.” he spoke your name, trying to clear his throat. “where.. did you go?” he sounded so quiet, so hurt.

“i’m sorry. i had to do something outside of fontaine, love. but i’m back now.” you told him softly.

love. that nickname instantly brightened his mood, before it dampened again. you don’t hate me, right? because.. because i’m.. the hydro dragon.” the last two words you could barely hear, but you understood.

“so that’s why it’s been raining so much. is that what you thought? oh, neuvilette.. i could never hate you.” you kissed his cheek, and he pulled you close, hiding his face in your shoulder.

“thank you. for not hating me. i love you so much.” he murmured. “so, so much.”

#genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin spoilers #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin impact angst #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact neuvilette #x reader #neuvilette angst #neuvilette fluff #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x you #neuvilette x y/n #neuvilette x reader

[coneyislandbabey]

well, my boyfriend's in a band. -> e.roundtree

WARNINGS: maybe some profanities

SYNOPSIS: Nobody thinks the thing between you and Eddie can be as pure and real as you say it is. word count: 1,323

NOTES: written for this request!

A lot of people talked about you and Eddie, now that you were publicly together, but none of them knew what they were saying. They spun the story like it was as old as time, unchangeable, inevitable, as sure a disaster as whatever or whoever they were comparing you to in the moment. Him, a rockstar, high on the enormous tide of fame and cocaine, a man who could have anything in the world at the snap of his fingers. You, a couple of years younger, elusive writer from the Los Angeles scene, enigmatic partier– naïve, obviously getting taken for a ride.

It never occurred to any of them that a man like Eddie Roundtree could be truly, inescapably gone for you. Why devote yourself to one girl when you could have as many as you wanted at any time? People had been asking that question about Billy Dunne for the Six’s entire career, and they couldn’t believe another band member was making the same ‘mistake’. Fame should mean freedom. As if getting to give your all to someone and receive their all in return wasn’t a kind of freedom in of itself.  

Let them talk. What difference did it make to you? 

When you stepped onto the tour bus, the afterparty was already in full swing. You hadn’t been able to catch the show because your flight had gotten in too late, but it didn’t matter; you’d be joining Eddie on tour for the next few months, so you had plenty of shows in your future. All you cared about was getting to your man. You located him sitting on the far corner of the couch, squished in with Graham and Warren and Warren’s girl of the night. You had spotted him before he spotted you, and you took a moment to take in the face you hadn’t been able to see since the tour started. His warm brown eyes crinkled in laughter, the sweep of his burnt sugar hair over his forehead. He was so beautiful it made your breath catch every time you allowed yourself to drink him in like that. 

“(y/n)!” Warren shouted, being the one to notice you first in the fray of the party, pointing to you with one long finger as if the shout wasn’t enough. Eddie’s head whipped around, and his mouth stretched into the widest grin at the sight of you. You returned the smile with your own, squeezing through the small, packed crowd until you landed right in his lap. 

Eddie’s arms instantly went around your waist, hands settling warm and solid on your lower back. Yours went loosely around his shoulders, your head dipping down to a well-received kiss. His eyes were bloodshot and he was half gone to whatever booze and drugs he’d done already, but even through the haze of inebriation they were settled on you. 

“You’re here, I can breathe again,” he said, voice lazy. He was leaned all the way back, head resting on the window behind him, like it was the first time his body had been able to relax in weeks. You lifted your palm to his cheek, rubbing your thumb gently along his lower lip, curved up in that little smirk of his. 

You bent your face close to him so that only he could hear you. “Missed you, too, baby boy.”

Eddie leaned over the side of the couch, and when he came back up he was holding his lighter– red, engraved with his name in gold, a gift from you shortly after you had started dating– and a joint. He lifted the joint and you took it in your lips, he grabbed your chin and held your face gently with his guitar-calloused fingers as he lit it for you. You took a long drag, exhaling only after the joint was between Eddie’s lips. 

Eddie’s hands went back to your waist, skimming up beneath your shirt and skating across your spine. The whole time he’d been away and you’d been stuck in Los Angeles without him, you’d felt unmoored, but you hadn’t realized the extent of it until you were finally back in his arms, back with your anchor. This was where you were meant to be, and Eddie felt that just as much as you did. 

The next night, you stood in the wings with Rod watching the band play. They were all mesmerizing in their own ways, especially, of course, Daisy and Billy singing together, but your eyes never left Eddie. He always exuded confidence, but never more so than when he was onstage, and it was intoxicating to see. He wore that cocky smirk on his face, the one that either made you want to smack him or kiss him and nothing in between, his body moving as one with the bass. He’d never wanted to play the instrument, you knew, but god did he play it like it had been made specifically for him. 

Any chance he got, his eyes were on you, even onstage, even in the middle of a song. As the song came to an end, he caught your eye for the hundredth time that night, bringing his hand to his mouth and blowing a kiss into the wings for you. You laughed, pretending to catch it and press it to your heart, making him grin before he had to turn away and start playing the next song. 

“That guy’s got it fuckin’ bad for you, huh,” Rod observed, and you snorted. 

“Mm, he better,” you nodded. 

Eddie made a beeline for you as soon as the show was over, shedding his bass on the way and scooping you up in his arms. You squeezed him tightly, laughing as he picked you up off the floor and spun you around. When he set you back down on the ground, you grabbed his face and kissed him, skin warm from the lights and exertion everywhere you touched, hair sweaty where your fingers tangled with it at the nape of his neck. 

“You were enthralling,” you told him once you had pulled away. 

“That was my best show so far,” he said, “Had to pull out all the stops because I knew my girl was watching.”

“Well, you really blew me away,” you laughed. “But you blow me away every time, you always will.” 

You two skipped the afterparty that night, instead heading straight to Eddie’s hotel room. You needed just each other, alone, away from the hecticness of tour. You wanted Eddie all to yourself, you always did, and Eddie would give you as much of himself as he could at every chance, just as you did for him. That’s why you found him so easy to love; he knew what you needed from him, and was nearly tripping over himself to give it to you. 

The next morning, you were in a diner with Eddie catching a quick breakfast before the buses had to leave. Your eyes scanned the newspaper rack in boredom as you waited for your food, and your mouth drew up into a smirk as you spotted something familiar. 

You grabbed the tabloid and turned, showing it to Eddie. On the front was a photo of him on stage from the night before, eyes turned towards the wings, hand extended mid-gesture as he blew you a kiss. A smaller photo was superimposed in the corner, catching the two of you walking out of the venue later that night, your arm looped through the crook of his elbow as you walked back to the hotel. The headline was something invasive and completely false about your relationship, but you ignored it. 

“They love to talk about us,” you said, rolling your eyes. 

“These pictures are pretty good, actually,” Eddie said, grabbing the tabloid to get a better look. “I should get in touch with them and ask if I can have some copies of ‘em.”

tag list: @eonnyx

#daisy jones and the six #djats #eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader #warren rojas #warren rhodes #graham dunne #karen sirko #karen karen #daisy jones #camila dunne #julia dunne #billy dunne

[fandomscompilation]

Black roses (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: slight Kaz Brekker x Reader

Warnings: mentions of cheating (?)

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for not posting for so long and not continuing on the two series I had going on. I lost inspiration for both works, seeing them as a copy of the show and not my own work. But no worries, I'm back to writing and plan on letting new parts out soon! But in the meantime enjoy a little one shot and maybe there'll be more to come during the wait! Let me know what you think and remember my requests are open 🫶🏻

Gif is not mine!

Once a month pigeons flocked to the Crow Club, even Ketterdams citizens went to play The Pure Luck. The game was led by a young woman. Her shuffling didn't allow anyone to count the cards, for she had her own chaotic ways. Some believed even she didn't know what would be dealt. Others believed she was so deciving that nobody suspected anything. But no matter the rumors and theories people still crowded her table.

The thing was not everyone was allowed to play at her table. She chose those that could sit down and have a chance at luck. She lured people in with her charm. Her easygoing nature allowing players to relax and enjoy their night. The table was always full of jokes, banter and laughter. It was a sight to see.

"It seems you're out of money, Sir." The girl smiled at the man across from her. There were only three players left. It was their last chance at winning and this man was desperate to have his money back at least.

"Two cards." He said throwing them to her for a change. She looked to the table before meeting his gaze again.

"Two secrets. Are you willing to pay the prize?" Her innocent voice reached his ears and after a small huff the man nodded to the cards thrown. She shuffled her cards quickly and put down the first one.

Nothing escaped her eyes. He was sweating, his lips twitched almost unnoticeably. But she trained herself to notice those minimalistic changes. After all he was playing her game now.

"Still a chance to back down, sir." He met her eyes only to nod again.

"The second one." He said looking at her hands. She shuffled the deck again and put down another card. The man frowned before showing his cards. He lost.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. Congratulations Mrs. Frederick, you can collect your special prize at the bar." They all shook hands before she led the man to the back room.

It was just a small storage converted into lookalike office. One desk, two chairs. "Two secrets sir."

The night life at the club continued while the two talked. For anyone from the outside it was a regular occurrence, but for those that knew it was crucial. For the girl was not a normal dealer of cards. Each month she would collect secrets and unbeknownst to others she'd then meet with Dirtyhands himself.

When he entered his office she was already in front of his desk, shuffling her black deck of cards. He circled the desk and took his sit while she kept her eyes on the cards.

"He's been having an affair, three years." Her soft voice filled the silence. He only hummed starting at his own work. "It started after him and his wife couldn't start a family. So he found someone else. A man."

"And why is it important?" He asked making her put down the cards.

"Because he works at the Ravkan embassy and he got the job thanks to his father." She put down her deck and leaned back in her chair. "If one would learn of his meetings and accidentally send one of Ravkan's aristocracy to see, then his father would learn the truth and take away his position."

"Why would one open a seat at their embassy?" Kaz asked meeting her eyes. She smiled lightly with a plan already made.

"He had an ultimatum. If he marries then the job is his. But-" She leaned in closer to him. "he has a younger brother. One that enjoys life and could be easily manipulated. He would fit in just well in our city."

"And what about Mrs. Frederick?" Brekker asked going back to his work. She shrugged going back to her shuffling.

"Her son is getting divorced due to him falling in love with another woman. One that works at one of the clubs." She said lightly but still risked a glance at him. And she was right to do so, cause his jaw twitched.

"Really?" Kaz drawled scribbling even harder now.

"Well, he's head over heels for her. Mrs. Frederick said he plans on bringing her flowers tomorrow for it's the day he'll be legally divorced." She wasn't ignorant enough to not realise it was her, who the man loved. But she also knew his nature. The man was known to have affairs and to think with his manhood more than his brain.

"Not an important secret." Brekker said before sending her off. She went straight to her room, just one floor lower and sleep soon caught up to her.

The next day she spend on the Crow Club's floor. She didn't deal that night, but she still played few games and talked with frequent visitors. People loved her company for she gave them a sense of calm and security in a twisted place.

It was noon when Mrs. Frederick son, Joseph, entered the Club. He was in a formal attire with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. The Crows watched how he scanned the floors and his face broke out into a wide smile upon noticing Y/N. She was enjoying her drink with Inej and Jesper during one of the rare quiet moments.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." The man said stopping only a step away from her. She twisted her body to face him and gave a light smile.

"Of course not. Are you looking for someone?" She questioned softly and as innocent as she could. After her talk with his mother she hoped he would not approach her in the open, but she was wrong yet again.

"I'm actually here for you." He said still smiling oblivious to her discomfort. "And those are for you too." Joseph handed her the bouquet.

She looked from his face to the flowers. The bouquet looked quiet expensive for a city like Ketterdam. But no matter the prize she didn't want to give the man false hope if she accepted the gift. She was aware of his affection but for her he was only a player at her table, a man with secrets she could use.

"That's really kind of you, Joseph." She started lightly and breathed deeply. But before she could decline a cane met his elbow making Joseph retract his arm.

"Red roses, really?" Kaz drowled glaring at the flowers like they had pricked him already.

"I'm sorry?" The man frowned straightening up. The three Crows looked between the both of them in shock and confusion. Kaz Brekker was acting possessive and it was not a daily occurrence.

"You talk about your affection openly and yet you don't know that Y/N prefers black flowers." He said already sporting a look of a winner. He was confident in his knowledge about the girl and her likes.

"Why would the colour matter? It's about the gesture." Joseph argued looking back to Y/N in hopes of continuing their conversation. But yet again Brekker spoke up.

"I was trying to be nice. If you won't stop harassing one of my workers I will remove you from my Club." His words were now spoke in the harsh tone that was associated with one and only Dirtyhands.

"You have no right to do that." The man huffed going back to smile at Y/N. "She wants me here." The silence that followed was full of tension. Both man turned to look at her in expectation. Either she'd make Joseph be removed or accept his gift and let whatever this was continue. Her eyes went from the roses to Kaz who calmly met her gaze.

"I'm not a fan of red." Her soft voice broke the silence. Joseph tightened his jaw in anger, while Kaz gave a slight smirk. In moments few Dregs had the man removed while the Crows watched.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, we've got a job tomorrow." Brekker said heading back to his office. They sat confused before Y/N sprang to her feet and ran after him.

She barged into his office just to have him waiting with two glasses of wine. He was not a fan of wine. Neither did he like flowers in his office, but there, on the side of his desk was a bouquet of black roses. They eyes met only for a moment. But it was enough to make her sit down in front of him and enjoy the drink in silence, while he worked and she smelled the flowers.

#fanfiction #writing #fanfic #kaz dirtyhands brekker #kaz brekker x reader #requests are open #six of crows

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

I figured nobody was going to request anything for murder drones, so I took matters into my own hands! Very self indulgent but hey, who cares?

N x affectionate worker drone Reader

★ Obviously he met you after he met Uzi, probably being a friend of hers from school. Either way he was dumbstruck when you started to hug him as a greeting. It's, like, the first time anyone has done that to him.

★ He carries you around like a stuffed animal whenever he has an excuse to. He used to ask for permission but now we just does it without thinking. Not that you really mind.

★ Whenever he visits the worker drone colony he makes sure to stop and say hi to you. You are really nice to him and honestly he enjoys talking to you when he can get the chance.

"oh, y/n!~" you heard from down the hallway. Recognizing the voice you turn your head towards the drone, a smile forming on your face. "N!" You say, opening your arms. He picks you up, twirling you around before setting you down on the metal floor. "Y/n, I missed you!" (Didn't you just see him yesterday?") "Awh I missed you to" you say, ruffling his hair. He smiled wide opening his mouth to speak. Before he could get any words out a third voice was heard from the door where he entered. "C'mon N, we don't have time for this today.." ah, that was Uzi. She was nice but you always thought that she could lighten up a little. He turned towards her and spoke "Oh alright" he said. Sounding more resigned than anything. He looked back at you "I'll talk to you later y/n! Have a nice day." You waved as he left the room.

#murder drones x reader #Murder drones #n murder drones #murder drones headcanon #murder drones n #serial designation n #n x reader #murder drones fanfiction #murder drones fanfic

[pricescancerstickk]

I looked for a long time on tumblr for a fic similar to my request, but I didn’t find it.. You can request Keegan like adoptive father and girl! child reader?i beg ya (I have such daddy issues bro)

(Sure! Hope you like it ;o)

Keegan x Female Child! Reader!

(Strictly platonic)

Being left out by parents at the young age of 9 what could you really do? Left out alone by one’s own parents isn’t right, it wasn’t right. And it won’t ever be right. Your parents weren’t the best, they couldn’t support you. If anything they were aggressive. So you ran away, It took much courage and bravery to do such a thing but it was for the best wasn’t it? Unfortunately, the world wasn’t a forgiving kind place

It was filled with all sorts of people and it was dangerous, you barely survived alone around town. Being only fed scraps before you were quite skinny, not quite. But really skinny, you had ended up somewhere near a war zone, you only ran and ran. Not knowing where your legs were gonna take you, your mind was saying no, but your heart said yes. It was being torn between one thing and the other. No matter how much you tried to ignore everything and stay calm all the time. Not everyone was strong, everyone had a weak spot. A breaking point. And you had reached yours. Far too early, That was the scary part. You found yourself alone in some sort of war zone. Scared and hearing so many gunshots while all of the commotion happened you had almost passed out from feeling dizzy, not eating. Not being feed and the dehydration, plus no sleep. You couldn’t last so long. You had been missing for so long, you heard footsteps. Flinching at the loud sound of a gunshot you squeaked. Blowing your cover completely. Once being so well hidden,

“Who the hell is out there? Come out now!”

A voice boomed, you held your mouth shut, by now tears welled in your eyes, you didn’t know if this person knew where you were or heard, or saw you. You hoped they hadn’t known where you were hiding, otherwise you would’ve been in trouble. You didn’t like being in trouble. At All. And this was a war zone, it wasn’t a place you ever wanted to go to in your entire life,

“You made sure nobody’s here?” The voice sounded again, the footsteps faded away, atleast you thought so, His voice was stern and direct. His piercing eyes glared right through the people infront of him, his fellow soldiers aswell, he wasn’t much of a talker. He didn’t like talking and preferred to get his shit done and that was it, No Distractions. It was why they all feared him if he was ever angry or in the slightest bit annoyed at anything, the first thing to take his anger out on would be the unfortunate soul who tried to talk him out of his state. This state. The male preferred being alone, it was just his thing and that was that, believing others opinions on/about him didn’t matter much, he knew what he was doing. As long as he had himself, he was ok.

The men along him nodded, with a sigh he walked around, kicking some of the rocks, “The fuck even happened here?..” He got lost deep in thought. Who would even be here anyways? Was what he thought. But heard sniffling. He turned around with his gun and just motioned for the men to standby while they readied their weapons, “Who’s out there? Come out already and stop hiding, surrender. Now.” He looked around the rubble, he looked under and all around. Nothing. But a rustle sounded behind some sort of bush. He walked to it. Shit! Shit! Shit!. Had he found you already?! You couldn’t hold it anymore, as soon as you felt hands pull you from under the rubble you screamed as loud as you can “Let me go!” You cried,

“What. The. Fuck…?”

They were all as equally shocked, nobody expected to have seen a child in midst of war, but for the first time, his heart broke seeing you cry despite he had only now found you, “How long have you even been here?!” He asked slightly angry now, he placed you down and took a knee, “Where are your parents kid?” He asked sternly, but his tone had an underlying tone of concern and worry. He brushed your tears away. But you were unresponsive and when he tried to touch you , you only backed away more, “Hey I won’t hurt you, neither will any of these men will. We’re here to help, alright?—“.

“We have to go now keegan!” Keegan, so that was his name? You thought. Wiping away your tears, before one of his comrades could even speak, Keegan’s blue eyes darted towards the man with an aggressive glare, he turned back to you, purposely softening his tone, “Are you hurt? How old are you, what’s your name?” His voice soothed, you sniffled and looked down, “I-I’m 9 years old..” You said, still afraid of this man.

1) you couldn’t see his face.

2) he was really tall, plus holding a firearm! (Gun),

He seemed shocked, 9? That was so young, it only managed to break his heart more seeing your glazed over eyes, he took your hand and stood up, motioning at the others to get their asses moving, He could tell you were sick. It was really cold today, you must’ve gotten a fever.

Despite the resistance and reluctance of wanting to go with them, he managed to finally convince you despite your fears. There he was, his hand scrubbing the dirt off your cheeks. Despite being half-awake, your face didn’t scrunch up once while he washed you off of anything, he made sure to ask your consent. His heart sank when you flinched when he touched you, how could someone hurt a little girl like you? You were so frail!. “You really need to eat, you know?” He mumbled. Tone softening down to a whisper as he caressed your face softly. You looked up at him a bit, still confused. Looking up at this ‘Keegan’ guy. Still so afraid, and he could see that. He stood up, “Your not still afraid of me, are you?” He asked. Wrapping you in a fuzzy towel he had, wrapping two arms under your legs and picking you up, you didn’t weigh much to him, he was used to lifting and all. His extensive training in the military served well, although his uniform was a bit stained because of you splashing him and resisting just a little bit earlier, afraid and it made you feel bad, “M’sorry” you chirped softly. He nodded, giving a reassuring look of ‘I would never hurt you”. It was written all over his face - or his mask.. he didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t have any intention to. “If I wanted to hurt you I wouldn’t have helped you.” Keegan ran his finger to the bruise on your forearm, he held your arm, you winced a bit, “it hurts..pl-please don’t touch it,” you said softly, while he had done giving you spare pajamas he had as a kid, although Keegan didn’t know himself why he kept those, he treated them a bit, tending. Your little nails dug into his palm to help slightly handle with the pain. “You have to take some medicine for that Fever you got,”, He wiped your tears, but came back holding a small bowl of some soup inside, there was some chicken and cut up vegetables inside, he couldn’t really cook, but he learned to make soup for the sake of this. He sat down beside you on his own bed, he gave you to hold the bowl. But he was so lost, confused what he was doing with a child now clinging onto him like he was her life depended on him, he was hesitant on ever taking care of kids. But now. It was ok. But when he mentioned medicine and it clicked in for you, you were scared again, you threw up after taking medicine sometimes.

“Listen, please take some medicine, ok? Then you can eat, it’s good.” But hesitantly. You took the medicine, he could tell it didn’t taste or smell the best. He helped you swallow some of it before you started drinking the soup, you gulped it down slowly but surely. In a small a mouth of time. Being hungry for so long you’d eat anything. Head resting on his chest for support, he was holding you like a baby to his chest. You’re back to his chest. His chest rised up and down slowly. Calmly to soothe both of you and him, both parties. He took the bowl and set it aside, picking you up again and setting you on the bed, he closed the lights and tucked you in with a small tap to your cheek, “Get some rest now.”

“Wait!” You stammered at the last second, scared. He turned around. Tilting his head as he leaned on the doorframe. Asking what was wrong, “Please don’t go..I’m scared of the dark-can you stay? Pretty please?” You mumbled the last part slightly inaudible. Not realizing you were biting those small nails his hand clamped softly around yours, causing a slight whine from you, “Can’t have you getting more sick than you already are, though, say—? Tell me how you got there, hmm?”

His stern tone slightly faded now as it had came back a bit earlier, he let go of your hand and sat beside you, “m’tell you tomorrow..” you lightly spoke. Laying down, curling a bit into a fetal position to get most warmth as he covered you with an extra blanket. He nodded, “I understand if you’re uncomfortable. But now. You need to relax a bit, hun”

Seeing you fell asleep so fast, he smiled softly. Shutting the door

“See you in the morning,”.

#call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #mw2 call of duty #cod #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #keegan russ x you #platonic #child reader #child reader x keegan p russ #mw2 x reader

[agaypanic]

The Fella Part 9 (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

Main Masterlist

The Fella Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: The girls have been waiting for months to see Take That in Belfast. When a polar bear is on the loose and Mary forbids them from going, they have to take matters into their own hands.

A/N: only took a million years but i finally wrote a new part lol BIG thanks to @crumpets-are-better-with-jam for writing out the episode’s script for me, without them I probably would’ve never found the time to be able to write this. Also the word g*psy is censored and used as little as possible because it’s considered a slur but some say that if you say it with the right context it’s ok, but i don’t wanna take any chances, you know?

***

The weekends were always the best part of the week for Y/n. No school or work, no obligations except for church on Sunday, and being able to sleep in late. Y/n wished to be an adult, so her life could be like this every day.

But this was going to be the weekend of all weekends. Months ago, the girls and James scrimped and saved every coin and bill and were able to buy concert tickets to see Take That in Belfast. And today was the day of the concert. The girls sat all squished together on the couch, watching said band on the TV, with James perched on the arm of the sofa, subtly clinging to Y/n. Their relationship was still a secret somehow, today marking their third month together. They were honestly surprised nobody noticed how their affection was more than friendly.

“God Almighty.” Grandpa Joe spoke in horror, glaring at the screen. “I don’t know what the world is coming to. Bloody perverts.”

“You’re overreacting, Da,” Mary said from the kitchen. Joe scoffed in disbelief.

“Overreacting? That lad’s got no trousers on, for Christ’s sake.” Michelle grinned at the detail that had been pointed out.

“He’s wearing too much still, if I’ve anything to say about it.” She muttered to the girls, who giggled apart from James and Clare.

“Why do they keep touching themselves?” Grandpa Joe asked the telly, as if it would provide any answers.

“‘Cause they’re artists, Granda,” Erin said, but he just grumbled.

“Dirty English bastards is what they are.” He turned to look at James. “No offense, son.” Although he didn’t really sound like he cared whether or not he had offended the boy. Y/n patted James’ thigh in comfort as the scene on the TV changed from the girls’ beloved boy band to a news anchor. 

“Come on, girls. Time to hit the road here.” Gerry announced as he came in. He gestured at James. “Have they roped you into going as well, son?” Y/n laughed, leaning against James to look at her father.

“Hardly. He’s practically riding Gary Barlow. Aren’t ya, Jamie?” He rolled his eyes at the statement, as if they had had this kind of conversation a hundred times.

“I’m not! I just respect him as a songwriter, that’s all.” Michelle rolled her eyes at him, as if she had also had this kind of conversation a hundred times.

“Aye, dead on, James, so you do.”

“Will we need our passports, Gerry?” Orla asked, giving her lungs a break from blowing on her mother’s spray tan.

“For Belfast? I don’t think so, Love.”

“Belfast?” Joe asked, but was ignored.

“Are we not a bit early, Daddy?” Erin asked, checking the time on the wall.

“It’s a two-hour drive with traffic, love.”

“This thing’s in Belfast?” Sick of not being acknowledged, Grandpa Joe stood from his favorite chair to stand with the girls and Gerry.

“Da, it’s eight hours till the doors open,” Y/n said, almost laughing at her father’s sense of urgency.

“I know. We’re cutting it fine.” He seemed completely serious about the matter, which just made Y/n want to laugh more.

“Belfast?” Joe said again, now effectively catching the room’s attention. “Sure, why didn’t you just sell the wains into white slavery and be done with it?”

“Gerry will be with them, Da.” Mary tried to reason, but that just seemed to set him off even more.

“Well, that’s worse. Sure, they hate his kind there.”

“My kind?” Gerry asked, not knowing what Joe could possibly be talking about.

“Pricks.” Y/n laughed, shrinking in her seat when Gerry whipped around to look at his daughter in offense. “Sorry, Daddy.”

“That is enough!” Mary finalized, still working in the kitchen. “They’re going to the concert, Da, and that’s the end of the matter.”

The news switched to another topic again. Something about how a polar bear escaped from Belfast Zoo. Hearing the name, Y/n started to worry.

“Now, will you see sense?” Grandpa Joe asked his daughter, pointing at the TV. Erin snorted.

“Aye, Granda, ‘cause an escaped polar bear’s gonna track us down and kill us. As if Mammy’s bothered by that.” There was a beat of silence, and suddenly, all the girls were panicked.

“Wise up, Mammy!” Y/n squealed frantically, shooting up from her seat on the couch to get a good look at her mother. “As if a polar bear’s gonna rock up a Take That concert!”

“He wouldn’t get a ticket for a start,” Orla added. “They sold out months ago.”

“You’d be surprised, girls,” Mary said.

“The concert’s nowhere near the zoo.” Gerry tried to reason. As usual, Joe countered him.

“But he’s not in the zoo anymore, is he, Simple Simon? He’s sauntering about Belfast without a care in the world!”

“Aye, keep up, Gerry,” Sarah said, blowing on the wet tan that coated her fingers. 

“What I’m saying is that it would be quite a lot of ground for him to cover.”

“They’re quick on their feet when they wanna be, love,” Mary said. Y/n sped to her father, grabbing him by the shoulders to make him face her.

“Daddy, please, don’t listen to her.” She pleaded. “We should go now so we’re not late. Please, Da!” Gerry put his hands on his daughter’s wrists, rubbing his thumbs over the joints while giving her a sympathetic look.

“Oh, love, I’m sorry, but I’d rather keep my head.”

“Come on, Mary.” Michelle pleaded with the girl’s mother. “If you don’t let Y/n and Erin go, then our ma’s won’t let us go.”

“Well, neither they should, and I’ll be ringing them to say as much.” The teens looked at Mary in despair as she went to the phone, likely to ring everyone’s mothers. While dialing, Mary looked back to the living room. “Look, girls, I know how much you were looking forward to seeing This and That.”

“Take That.” Erin corrected.

“But there’ll be other concerts.” Y/n laughed humorlessly, resting her head on her father’s shoulder momentarily before letting go of him completely. 

“No, there won’t.” She felt hysterical. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Months of looking forward to this concert just to be banned by her mother because of a polar bear. Only something like this would happen to her. “The fact that this one’s happening is a miracle ‘cause no one good comes here ‘cause we all keep killing each other!” James shifted on the arm of the couch to make room for Y/n to sit next to him. He rubbed her back as she leaned against him for support, devastated.

“And now we’re overrun with polar bears.” Sarah sighed, pulling out a cig.

Frustrated, Y/n stormed up to her room, the girls and James close behind. They had found her face down on her bed, screaming into a pillow. James sat beside her, pulling the pillow out of her grasp before she could suffocate herself. While everyone settled in Y/n’s room, she rested her head on James’ thigh. Her anger and sadness were slowly washing away from James rubbing her back.

“This is so fucking unfair.” She muttered.

“I know,” James responded, brushing hair out of her face.

“Well, I dunno about you lot, but I’m not letting that fat furry fuck ruin the biggest day of my life,” Michelle announced harshly, pacing the floor.

“What can we do?” Erin asked, lying across her sister’s legs.

“Right, listen, girls.” Michelle drew their attention. They hoped that she had come up with a plan to save the day, but were quickly let down. “I’ve never told anyone this before, but… sometimes, when Robbie’s being interviewed, it’s like he’s sending me messages through the TV. You know, like telepathically or whatever, It’s like he’s saying…” She sighed, clearly in a dreamy daze. “We’re meant to be together.”

Everyone stared at her.

“Aye, maybe don’t tell that to anyone again, Michelle,” Erin said. “Ever.”

“I think she might be more cracked than Orla,” Y/n muttered to James, who snorted.

“What?” Orla looked at Y/n after hearing her name.

“Nothing, love.”

“Look, this is too important,” Michelle said. “I’m going to that concert. I’m not afraid of a fucking polar bear!” Everyone enthusiastically agreed. They shouldn’t pay mind to a random bear or what their parents have to say about anything. Nothing would stop the girls and James from seeing Take That.

“I’ll kill it with me own two hands, if I have to.” Orla declared. 

“Bring it on!” Erin egged on.

“Okay. We seem to have gone down a weird road here, people. I think we just got a bit confused.” Ever the realist and anxiety-riddled girl, Clare tried stopping her friends from the odd discussion. “We don’t actually have to fight a polar bear, and if we did, I wouldn’t fancy our chances because, well, they’re massive.” Orla looked around, confused.

“But there’s six of us.”

“Aye, I think we’d have a real chance,” Y/n said, albeit slightly sarcastically.

“The point is, the polar bear’s not the one stopping us from going to the concert. It’s our mothers, and we’ll never get them to change their minds.” Y/n gasped, sitting up suddenly, seeming to have an idea.

“So we fight Mammy.”

“No, definitely not.” James shot down the idea immediately and welcomed his once again pouty girlfriend to rest in his lap. Michelle leaned toward the group like she was gonna tell them a secret.

“We’re not gonna try and change their minds.” She smirked, and everyone became slightly fearful because Michelle always had less than bright ideas that she’d have them execute. “We’re gonna do something else.” 

“What?” James asked.

***

“I’m still trying to figure out whether or not this is a good idea,” Y/n muttered to James, who she clung to while sitting on his lap. Michelle had somehow convinced everyone to sneak away and get on a bus to Belfast. The group sat in the back of the bus to avoid anyone who may be suspicious of six teenagers traveling by themselves. There wasn’t enough seating for all six of them to sit together, so everyone squished together, and Y/n sat on James’ lap. No one said anything about it besides the comment from Michelle about how James must be giddy to be so close to a girl. He told her to fuck off.

“Same here.” He sighed, hands gripping her closer as the bus crossed a few bumps on the road.

“We’re gonna get caught; I just know it,” Clare said anxiously to the group.

“We’re not gonna get caught, Clare, because as far as our ma’s are concerned, me, you, and James are ’round Erin’s, and Erin, Y/n, and Orla are ’round mine,” Michelle explained, trying to calm Clare down.

“But we’re not ’round yours, Michelle,” Orla responded, confused. “We’re on the bus to Belfast.” 

“Christ.” Y/n rolled her eyes, having heard her cousin say this multiple times since they left the house.

“I cannot explain it to her again. I’m gonna scream.” Michelle looked away from Orla, probably because she would strangle her if she had to deal with the confusion for another second.

“What’s in the suitcase, Michelle?” James asked, staring at the case his cousin had set on the remaining seat near the group. Y/n could’ve sat there, but Michelle wanted a close eye on whatever was in the suitcase without holding it in case they got caught. Everyone stared, curiously waiting for an answer. There was a beat of silence.

“Vodka.” You brought an entire suitcase full of vodka?” Erin asked incredulously.

“Jesus, Michelle, you’ve got a problem,” Y/n added.

“No. There’s mixers as well. I’m not a savage.” Michelle took a second to think, looking down at the case. “You can mix vodka with cider, right?”

“God, I am boiling.” Clare sighed, fanning her face.

“Gee, I wonder why, Clare.” Y/n laughed, looking at her friend who was completely bundled in jackets and scarves.

“What are you wearing?” Erin asked.

“Yeah, you look like a fucking Provo.”

“I don’t want anyone recognizing me, okay?” The bus paused its venture, opening the doors for people to come in and out.

“No one’s gonna recognize you, Clare.” Michelle chastised.

“Clare Devlin, is that you?” Panic ran through everyone. The voice sounded very familiar and fear-inducing. The girls looked towards the front. Sister Michael was moving past the seats and right for them.

“Jesus Christ.” Clare squeaked, trying to hide in her mountain of clothes. Erin leaned into her.

“Relax, Clare.” She said. “She has no authority over us at the weekend. She has no right to question us, and if she tries to, I’ll tell her as much.”

“Aye, I’d like to see you try, Erin.” Y/n hissed to her sister before Sister Michael reached the group.

“Morning, girls.” She said.

“Morning, Sister Michael.” Everyone said in unison.

“What takes you to Belfast?” There was a heavy pause. The girls were silently trying to decide who would speak and what they would say. Erin volunteered herself, speaking quietly from nervousness.

“I’m not really sure that’s-”

“Speak up.” Sister Michael interrupted her. Erin gulped.

“I’m not really sure that that’s any of your business…” Sister Michael stared blankly at her. Everyone waited for her to jump and murder Erin for saying such a thing. Soon, she found words.

“I’m going to assume that was an ill-judged attempt at humor, Miss Quinn.”

“Yes,” Erin whispered, sinking into her seat. Y/n silently prayed that the bus would start moving so Sister Michael would be forced to leave and find a seat somewhere. But God never seemed too kind to the girls.

“Now, answer the question.”

“... We’re going to the museum.” Erin devised a good lie; the girls just hoped they could keep up with the inevitable follow-up questions.

“Which museum?”

“Ulster Museum,” Clare answered.

“What for?”

“A project,” James responded.

“A history project.” Y/n amended. Sister Michael looked at the two. It seemed like she was about to ask why Y/n was in James’ lap, but she decided against it, not wanting to go through the trouble.

“What about?”

“Ulster,” Erin answered once again. Sister Michael gave an unconvinced hum and turned around to find a place to sit. Everyone sighed in relief as the bus started to move again.

“A history project,” Clare said in disbelief. “This web of lies we’re spinning is getting out of control now, girls.” Y/n put a hand on her friend’s shoulder to take her attention.

“If it makes you feel any better, Clare, I actually have a history project due soon.”

“I thought we finished that,” James said quietly to her. She turned to him.

“Yeah, but now I’ve gotta put it all together.”

“It’s grand, Clare,” Michelle said, rolling her eyes at Clare’s constant anxiousness. “I think she bought it.”

“Of course, she didn’t buy it. She’s onto us, I’m telling you. Oh God, I’m sweltering here.”

“Then take it off,” Erin said.

“I can’t take it off; I’ve nothing underneath it.” Everyone paused, looking at her confused.

“What, not even a bra?” Erin asked.

“Jesus, Clare, you’ve no bra on?” Michelle asked incredulously.

“I haven’t got a bra on,” Orla commented.

“Aye, me neither,” Y/n said.

“What?” James practically choked. Suddenly aware of his girlfriend’s body and this new information, he moved his hands down to sit at her hips. Y/n shrugged.

“They dig.”

“What’s she doing now?” Clare asked, and everyone looked at Sister Michael, who sat a few rows ahead of them. She was reading a book, laughing every now and then.

“Reading her book,” James answered, as if they all couldn’t see it. She suddenly turned to the woman in the seat next to her. She had a look of disgust while the woman ate a sandwich. “Now she’s looking at the woman beside her.” Sister Michael stood from her seat. “Now she’s getting up.” She moved towards the back of the bus, closing in on the girls. “Now she’s coming this way.” Soon enough, Sister Michael stood before the group, staring at them. “Now she’s standing right in front of us.”

“What’s he doing?” Sister Michael asked, looking weirdly at James.

“Now she’s-” James’ words were halted by Y/n putting a finger to his lips.

“Stop narrating, Jamie.”

“I want to sit here.��� Sister Michael said with finality, pointing to where Michelle’s suitcase sat. Michelle started to panic.

“What? Why?”

“Well, you’re just such wonderful company, girls, what with your stimulating conversation and razor-sharp wit.” Everyone knew she was being sarcastic. Except for Erin.

“Really?” She asked, seemingly flattered. Sister Michael rolled her eyes.

“No, not really. The woman next to me is eating an egg and onion sandwich, and the smell is enough to turn an Orange March.” The girls cringed at the description. Sister Michael grabbed the suitcase, trying to move it. But she was evidently struggling. “Christ, but this is heavy.”

“Sister, no, let me,” Michelle said, leaning over to grab the case.

“What do you have in here, girls?”

“It’s not ours!” Clare quickly responded with a shriek. Everyone glared at her lie.

“Not yours?”

“We have never seen it before in our lives, have we, girls?” It was better to just agree, so that’s what the girls did. They nodded, giving different mutters of confirmation. 

Sister Michael turned to look at everyone else on the bus.

“Excuse me, everyone. Can I have your attention, please?” She raised her voice to get everyone to listen. Confused, the passengers looked at her while she pointed to Michelle’s suitcase. “Does anyone own this red suitcase?” No one claimed it. “Now, let me be clear. No one can claim this bag, is that correct?” Everyone confirmed her question. She looked down at the suitcase. “I think we have a Code Red on our hands. Driver, pull over!”

***

The girls were definitely fucked. Everyone had to evacuate the bus while they waited for the military to come and extract the suitcase. Now, a crowd watched as a military robot examined the case.

“Jesus Christ!” Clare squeaked in a panic.

“Aye, this isn’t great,” Erin said, watching the commotion. Michelle shrugged.

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“They’re about to blow up an entire suitcase of vodka, Michelle.” 

As Michelle and Erin quietly argued, Y/n leaned into James’ ear.

“And here I thought Clare’s paranoia would be our biggest problem.” James rested his head on Y/n’s, eyeing the situation in front of him in disbelief.

“Why is this place so mental?” He asked. Michelle scoffed.

“That’s enough, James. You have serious fucking anger management issues. Do you know that?” Before anyone could give a rebuttal, there was an explosion. The robot had successfully eliminated the threat in the red suitcase, which was the girls’ ticket to a good time.

There were lots of talks among the soldiers over the radio. The girls silently celebrated when one said they could pack everything up. Soon enough, they’d be back on the way to Belfast.

“Powerful smell of vodka down here, over.” The girls froze in their places as they heard the soldier over the radio. God really did seem to have it out for the teens.

“Vodka, did he say?” Sister Michael asked, slowly turning to her students. “Interesting.” The girls gave her nervous smiles. Suddenly, Y/n pointed over Sister Michael’s shoulder.

“Oh my God, Sister! What’s over there?!” Sister Michael whipped around, and Y/n made a break for it. All of her friends followed after her. 

They ran like hell, not knowing where they were going. After a while of wandering around, they slowed to a walk down a dirt road, all trying to catch their breath. The girls debated whether or not they could reach Belfast on foot, especially with that polar bear on the loose. But the conversation dwindled as some men came into view on the side of the road.

“Is it just me, or is that g*psy an absolute ride?”

“As usual, I think it’s just you, Michelle,” Y/n said, groaning at her sore legs.

“Michelle, you cannot say that.” Erin scolded.

“What?”

“They’re called ‘travelers now. Y’can’t say ‘g*psy’ anymore. It’s insulting.”

“Okay, but you just said it, Erin.” Y/n pointed out. Michelle and Erin continued arguing over the correct word to use for the men. It continued for a while, and only stopped when they had gotten closer to the men.

“Howya, girls.” One of them said, with a bit of a slurred speech. The girls politely greeted him and continued walking. They got a few feet past them when the one who greeted them started calling after them. “Hey, hold on.”

“What does he want?” Clare asked in a panic.

“I don’t know,” Erin replied, just as nervous.

“I’m talking to you!” The man shouted. The girls ignored him, but he kept walking after them. “Hey, are you deaf or what?”

“Just keep going.” Y/n urged her friends, grabbing James’ hand to yank him along while she pushed her tired body to go faster. The teens started walking more quickly, and soon enough, the shouting man and his friends were all tailing after them. 

“Get back here!”

“Faster. Walk faster.”

“Am I gonna have to come after you, am I?”

“Jesus Christ, he’s following us,” James muttered, now being the one to pull Y/n further.

“Run!” Y/n yelped, breaking into a sprint and out of James’ grip because the sudden change in pace had caught him off guard. Everyone ran after her, the teens to catch up with Y/n and the travelers to catch up with the teens. The girls were terrified, except for Orla, of course, who could always find the fun in a fucked up situation.

“Piss off!” Erin went to the edge of the dirt road and came back to the strange men waving a giant stick around. They backed up in alarm, and the girls stopped to stand behind Erin.

Except for Y/n, who was still running like hell. James yelled for her, but she couldn’t hear him over the thumping of her feet and heart. She didn’t even notice that her friends had all been left in the dust behind her.

“Jesus fuck!” Y/n screeched when she was grabbed suddenly by the shoulders and yanked back into someone’s chest. The person who caught her breathed heavily, slightly using her as a crutch. Y/n immediately recognized the whines and groans of exhaustion and smacked the man in the arm. “Scared the fuck out of me, James.”

“I know, ‘m sorry.” James brought her closer to him, back pressed against his chest as he rubbed her arms up and down to comfort her. “Can’t run off like that, love. Could’ve lost you.”

“Sorry.” She apologized sheepishly, and James kissed her head to show she shouldn’t be. When the couple regained strength, they turned around and started walking back to the group that was currently arguing with the strange couple of men when they abruptly ran to the side of the dirt road. A van sped past them as if they weren’t even there, honking the horn and stopping in front of the stand-off of travelers and teenage girls. Y/n and James hesitantly watched, not knowing what was happening.

Soon, Erin stuck her head out from behind the van so her sister was in her view. She waved her over frantically.

“Y/n, come on!” Erin then disappeared, likely into the strange van. Knowing everyone else was probably in there, and not wanting to be left stranded, Y/n broke out into another sprint, leaving James in the dust once again.

“Not again.” He mumbled.

***

When Y/n had snuck away from her family and hopped on a bus to Belfast with her friends, she obviously didn’t expect the bus plan to go to shit, and she and her buddies would be riding around in someone’s van. Yet here she was, jostling around in the back, surrounded by half-assed Take That shirts. Erin was trying to converse with the driver; Rita was apparently her name. Meanwhile, Michelle hogged a cardboard cut-out of Robbie Williams, and Clare and Orla were sifting through all the different merchandise.

“Robie?” Clare said to herself as she held up one of the shirts to look at before frantically digging through the rest of the boxes. In the driver’s seat, Rita seemed to have some type of drunken meltdown. Clare turned to Y/n, panicked like always. “Y/n, what are we gonna do?”

“Pray.”

“She’s spelt ‘Robbie’ wrong on every single t-shirt.”

“Huh?” 

“How are we gonna break it to her?” Y/n snorted. That was not what she expected her dear friend to be worried about.

“Clare, we’re being driven around by some crazy tipsy woman, and I bet she doesn’t even know which direction Belfast is in. And yet you’re worried about a spelling mistake?”

“I find it disturbing.”

“I find your priorities disturbing.” Rita continued talking in her drunken, weepy state, leading to another discussion between Erin and Michelle about the correct label to use for the intimidating men they had run into.

But everything was cut short by the van ramming into something, causing everyone to jerk forward. There was a moment of silence as everyone tried to figure out what had just happened.

“Jesus Christ.” Michelle groaned, rubbing her head as she sat up.

“What was that?” Erin asked no one in particular.

“Did we hit something?” 

Orla opened the sliding door of the van and stuck her head out. Everyone heard a gasp of both surprise and delight.

“Oh my God, it’s the polar bear!” The sentence made everyone, excluding Rita, who smoked her cigarette in the driver’s seat, jump out of the van and surround the body. 

“Orla, this is not a bloody polar bear.” Y/n sneered, looking down at the dead sheep that lay before her feet. Everyone slowly looked over at her.

“You’re soundin’ like James,” Michelle said in slight disgust.

“Shut up.”

“Get it shifted, girls!” Rita commanded from the van, taking another drag. Reluctantly, the girls grabbed the sheep carcass and tried carrying it to the side of the road to clear their path. There was a lot more struggling than they intended.

“Why’s it so heavy?” Erin said with a strained voice. “Aren’t they meant to be ninety percent wool?”

“Just put your back into it. The sooner this is done, the sooner we’re back in the van and on our way to see Robbie.”

“Shut it about Robbie, Michelle!” Y/n groaned, trying to pull the sheep. There was much more arguing, and after a very short while, the girls decided they were officially over this task.

“Fuck this!” Michelle shouted. “Let’s just make James do it, the lazy bastard!” Everyone dropped the sheep on the ground and waited for James to do all the work.

But he never did. It was just the girls on an empty road with a dead sheep and a crazy woman. 

“Wh… Where is James?” Clare asked, looking around, hoping he’d suddenly pop out of a bush or something. 

Y/n thought long and hard. She might have been the last one to be with James. Backtracking to her last known moments with James, Y/n gasped and raised a hand to her mouth. The girls looked at her expectantly, waiting to find out where he was. Her response was an embarrassed and horrified whisper.

“I left him with the travelers.”

***

It took much persuasion, mainly for Michelle, but the girls had gotten Rita to go back for James. It was primarily the revelation that James was the one who had the concert tickets. After a long drive, the van skidded to a stop in front of the traveler’s stands of vegetables and fruits. James was among the men, helping them. Y/n yanked the van door open, relieved that her boyfriend hadn’t been mugged or stranded or something else of the sort.

“James!” She yelled in delight, immediately catching his attention. He grinned but stayed stuck in his place.

“What are you playing at? Get in the van, fucko.” Michelle commanded, less thrilled to see James than Y/n was. The man who first chased the girls put a hand on James’ shoulder.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, James.”

“With all due respect, this has nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah!” Y/n added, desperately waiting for her boyfriend to get into the van.

“The way you treat this fella, it’s disgraceful.” The traveler reprimanded.

“Fucking excuse me?” Y/n felt beyond insulted.

“What’s going on, James?” Michelle asked.

“Jonjo and the lads…” James looked at said lads with a smile. “They just get me. And it turns out, I’m a really good salesman.”

“He’s a natural,” Jonjo said.

“So, what, you’re a g*psy now?” Michelle asked, clearly thinking this was an unfunny prank.

“Traveler.” Erin and Y/n corrected in unison, Erin louder than her sister.

“Actually, g*psy’s fine,” Jonjo said. Michelle smirked, finally being able to prove to Erin that she was right. Rita yelled at everyone to hurry up, and Michelle nodded.

“Right, get in the van, come on. And do not test me ’cause we’ve already missed PJ and Duncan.”

“Is that who was supporting them?” Clare asked. When confirmed, she pouted. “Oh, I really like them!”

“I’m not leaving, Michelle,” James said with finality.

Y/n sighed, stepping out of the van. The tense gaze James had for his cousin softened when his girlfriend walked up to him.

“Not even for Gary Barlow, Jamie?” Y/n knew she made the right move because now James looked unsure of himself.

“I don’t really rate him as a, as a songwriter, y’know?” Jonjo said. The horrified look James suddenly had painted on his face made Y/n smile, both because she knew that the girls would now be leaving with him and because he looked so adorable. 

James took off his fanny pack and handed it to Jonjo in disappointment, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m sorry, Jonjo, but you’ve just crossed the line there.” 

Y/n wrapped an arm around James’ back and guided his sad self to the van, where the door was just behind them. She brought him to the back of the van so he could mope a bit in peace. The girls all talked excitedly amongst themselves about the concert.

“I’m sorry I stranded you,” Y/n said quietly, moving her hand down James’ back to squeeze his hand. He squeezed it back and smiled softly down at her.

“I’m just glad you came back.”

“Of course, I came back. You have the concert tickets.” James shoved Y/n away and couldn’t hide the growing grin from hearing her laugh. “Kidding, kidding.”

After a long drive, long lines, and a big fight to get to the barricade, the Derry girls were finally able to enjoy Take That in all its glory. They screamed the lyrics, jumped to the beat, and danced all together in excitement. They didn’t care about the consequences when they would get home to their parents, who were probably worried sick. They didn’t worry about how they’d get home that night. All that mattered was that they were currently in the presence of one of their favorite bands of all time.

Somewhere in the middle of the set, the excitement winded down a bit as a piano intro played. Y/n squealed, tugging on James’ sleeve, as she recognized what was dubbed as her and James’ song, A Million Love Songs. James grinned at her excitement.

“Oh my God! I have something for you!” Y/n exclaimed over the music, digging around in her pockets. James looked down curiously as she brought out a folded piece of paper. “If it’s bad, you’re not allowed to make fun of me.”

“What is it?” James leaned down so he was closer to eye level with Y/n, making her blush. She pinched the edge of the paper, creasing it a bit.

“Do you remember when Erin became magazine editor, and we were going through those essays and… and Michelle found mine?” James nodded, remembering the day clearly because he was devastated when he heard the title of her little essay. “Well, I figured, since it’s our third month together and all… I wanted to give it to you.” He was gentle when taking the paper from her, so incredibly curious about what she had written. “Especially since my fancy isn’t so one-sided as I thought.”

All Y/n could focus on was the beautiful song in the background and the beautiful boy in front of her, reading words that had come straight from her heart when she thought her love for James was just a hopeless crush. She didn’t know if it was a good sign, seeing him become more flustered and blushy as he read on. When he was finished, he slowly and carefully folded the paper back up while Take That started to play a more energetic song.

“Again, you can’t make fun of me if it’s bad!” Y/n shouted over the noise. “I know Erin’s the writer or whatever, but- oof!” She was interrupted by James pulling her to his chest, arms wrapped tight around her and face buried in the crook of her neck. She immediately returned the affections. 

“It’s amazing.” He said in her ear. “Amazing, and lovely, and perfect. Just like the girl who wrote it.” Unable to help herself, Y/n brought James’ face to hers and kissed him with such passion, a passion he reciprocated instantly. It was as if it was only them existing at that moment.

Of course, it wasn’t. Clare would later tease and squeal at the two and interrogate them about when they had finally gotten together and why they didn’t tell her. Too enamored with the men just feet away from them, the rest of the girls didn’t even notice the couple.

And somewhere in Derry, while the rest of her family was fighting, Y/n’s father Gerry smiled fondly at his television where he saw his daughter having the time of her life at a Take That concert with her best friends and boyfriend. A boyfriend he’d absolutely be asking her about in private when he had the chance.

~~~

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[in-my-feels-probably]

This Is Me Trying

(Aegon Targaryen x Reader)

Request: Please write more HCs about Aegon, HCs how he reacts when he is loved, cherished and cared for (maybe by reader as his lovely widowed aunt, a younger sister / half-sister of Viserys and daemon) when Aegon is defended by someone, someone really stands up for him and defends and protects him against all hostilities and against the harsh treatment of Alicent, Otto and Aemond!

Requested by: @cara-eva

Hi! Thank you for the request, I’m sorry for the long wait. I don’t love the outcome, but I don’t want to make you wait any longer and I think it’s as good as it’s gonna get. I hope you like the story format instead of the headcanons, it was just easier for me to write this out that way. I’m hoping this is close to what you were looking for. If it’s not, I’m happy to write you another request.

Also, I didn’t really specify how you’re related to Aegon, but when I was writing I was intending for it to be a Targaryen reader that was close to him in age, who grew up in King’s Landing with him. So maybe a daughter to Daemon or Rhaenyra, or a really young sister to Daemon and Viserys. It doesn’t really matter how you choose to perceive it, it’s not important to the plot that much. I hope it’s ok that I left it open to interpretation.

Anyways, I hope you like it, let me know what you think!

(Warnings: swearing, mentions of physical and verbal abuse, mentions of alcohol and substances, references to the street of silk, very vague gore and blood, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You could recall almost all the times in your life where Aegon had looked to you for comfort, after someone in your family was particularly harsh to him.

Not that he didn’t occasionally deserve it, he really did know how to piss someone off if he wanted to. He’s done it to you more times than you can count. You’ve just apparently learned how to deal with him more positively than the rest of your family.

But more often than not, Aegon was criticized and humiliated by his own family, for no real reason at all.

It was something he had become accustomed to, and he no longer fought it. Which meant that you had to be the one to stand up for him, you had to be the shoulder to cry on, because nobody else was going to.

—

Aegon never felt respected or well regarded by most members of the court, particularly regarding his Grandsire. Despite Aegon having a higher position than him, the Hand had no problem making it known that he thought very little of his grandson.

The worst that ever occurred between the two of them that you can recall was when word was sent to King Viserys that Corlys Velaryon had been critically injured, and his impending succession was to be challenged in an upcoming gathering. With the King bedridden, Otto took the news as the perfect opportunity to begin subverting Princess Rhaenyra’s children’s positions.

In doing so, he advised all the King’s children to support Vaemond Velaryon’s claim. He attempted to convince you the evening the message arrived, but you wouldn’t hear it. You made your claim of support for Lucerys on the spot, more so to spite Otto than anything.

In the week before the whole family was set to arrive, he cracked down on you. You had gone to accompany Aegon to the dragonpit, when Ser Erryk found you and asked you both to report to the Tower of the Hand.

You could tell Otto wasn’t pleased with your presence, but you accompanied Aegon anyway, taking a seat while the two of them talked.

“Aegon, it is the same laws being twisted to support Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne that is preventing you from being named heir. You’re the King’s firstborn son, and you’re being robbed of the opportunity to rule.”

“Careful, My Lord,” you had said, grinning. “Your words are embarking upon treason.”

He ignored you, trying not to give you a reaction. “Those very same laws are once again being used to falsely back Lucerys, when the Driftwood Throne should pass to Vaemond Velaryon. Back his claim, My Prince. Out of principle, alone.”

“I don’t give a shit about the throne, Iron or otherwise,” Aegon huffed, like the conversation was the dullest thing he could have possibly endured that day.

Otto narrowed his eyes, speaking firmer. “Lucerys’s claim is illegitimate, even you can admit that. You’ve got more blood of Old Valyria than he does, and he carries the name Velaryon. Does that not unsettle you?”

“Bastard or not, it is of no consequence to me,” Aegon said, shrugging his shoulders. “Let my nephew have it, or don’t let him have it, I don’t care. I’m not interested enough to involve myself.”

Otto stood from his chair, leaning over his desk to look Aegon in the eye. He almost shook with a silent fury, his voice laced with venom.

“Everything handed to you on a silver platter,” he spat, his face cold. “And you waste it. The Seven Kingdoms in the palm of your hand, and you don’t even bat an eye. You may have the pure blood of Old Valyria, but you’re more of a bastard than Lucerys will ever be.”

This caught your attention, making you stand and move behind the chair Aegon was sitting in. You had no problem standing up for Aegon, considering your position was also higher than Otto’s, and you simply enjoyed aggravating him.

“It would be in your best interest to hold your tongue, My Lord. It would be a shame to have to see to it that it is removed from your head.”

Otto took a step toward you, glaring, before leaning down to whisper into Aegon’s ear.

“Look at you…hiding behind a little girl. You’re lazy, arrogant, and a miserable excuse for a Targaryen. You bring shame upon your house, and humiliate yourself while doing so. It’s no wonder our Queen, your own mother, despises you so.”

You shook your head in disbelief, peering down at Aegon to see that his eyes had glossed over, and he had gone rigid in his chair. You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb in circles on the exposed skin peeking out of his shirt.

Aegon took a shaky breath, and you felt a rage course through you that expelled itself before you could stop it. You stepped in between Aegon and Otto, blocking Aegon from Otto’s sight. You reached a hand behind you, offering it for Aegon to take, which he gladly accepted.

With your free hand, you pressed your finger into Otto’s chest, inadvertently pushing him to take a step back.

“You forget yourself, My Lord. What about the phrase, ‘hold your tongue,’ did you not understand? You’re speaking to the Prince, at least pretend to act like it.”

You coaxed Aegon to stand, pulling him with you to head for the door. Otto nearly smirked as he watched, leaning back against his desk. His face fell when you turned around to speak to him, just before you stepped out the door.

“You’re weak, Otto. Pathetic. Half the man Aegon is, if even that. The stewards have more honor and merit than you. You burn bridges with every word you speak against the Crown and its children. As much as you hate to admit it, it still doesn’t change the fact that the histories will record Aegon’s and Lucerys’s names, bastard or not.”

Aegon smirked, watching Otto soak in your words like a slow acting poison, killing its victim cell by cell.

“Your name, however, will be forgotten. Far gone and lost to the obscurity of every man like you that has come before. Your efforts will be for naught, and the rest of your existence will be a miserable one. I hope you’ll come to understand that, because it is undoubtedly your fate. And I, for one, cannot wait to witness it.”

—

Aegon’s Grandsire was not the only member of his family that was known to be unnecessarily cruel. Amongst his siblings, Aegon really only dealt with Aemond’s hostility.

You could recall countless fights between the two of them, always squabbling with each other.

It took a lot for Aemond to actually get physical, or put any real malice behind his words. He was usually content to ignore Aegon’s presence entirely. But when provoked, it was probably better that you were there to intervene.

Despite how harsh Aemond could be, he was the easiest to deal with. You were one of the few members of the family Aemond actually liked, and he normally listened to you when you told him to pipe down. Plus, his and Aegon’s spats were normally sibling derived, and of no major consequence.

The worst between them was when Aemond finally snapped, and the two of them got into a screaming match about Aegon’s lack of ambition. Aegon had just returned from Flea Bottom, and Aemond had returned from an evening flight on Vhagar.

You heard them all the way from your chambers, finding them nearly throwing blows in the courtyard.

“I did not ask for this!” Aegon yelled, making Aemond sneer.

“Clearly. And yet, it was handed to you anyway. Why not take advantage of it?”

Aegon groaned, biting his tongue to keep from screaming. “I don’t care, brother. Why does everyone expect so much from me?”

“Because you piss it all away,” Aemond said, stepping forward and shoving Aegon’s shoulder. “You don’t have any idea how lucky you are.”

Before anyone could actually get hurt, you rushed in between them, pushing them both a few steps back.

“What the fuck are you doing? Do you have any idea how late the hour is?”

“Yes, brother,” Aemond said, exasperatedly throwing his hands up. “Do you? Or have you forgotten the time in the bottom of a cup? Perhaps on the Street of Silk?”

Aegon grumbled, trying to step past you, but you held him back. You narrowed your eyes at him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Stop. I won’t ask again.”

You turned back to Aemond, who looked like he had grown tired of the conversation already.

“Are you done?” You asked, raising a brow. “Must you antagonize him? You know it will do no good.”

Aemond groaned, taking a step back. “Must you always defend him? He’s infuriating. You’re never nearly as harsh enough with him as you should be.”

“He’s not my child, he’s not mine to discipline,” you said, nodding your head towards Aegon. “The Gods know you and your family do that enough to him already.”

Aemond scoffed, turning around, but you caught his arm, making him wait.

“Wait…listen. Trust me, he doesn’t get away with being an ass around me. He knows well enough that it won’t end well for him.”

Aegon had grown quiet, sulking behind you. You kept your eyes on Aemond, not letting him go.

“But I also don’t purposely antagonize him to warrant a reaction. I understand your frustrations, believe me, I do. But squabbling like children does neither of you any good. He’s your brother, Aemond. Ease up…let it go.”

Aemond grumbled, his face cold, like he was debating on if he should walk away or not. Finally, he softened, gently easing his arm from your grip.

“Fine,” he said, turning around to leave the courtyard. “As you wish.”

Once he was out of earshot, you turned around to face Aegon. He had gone pink, awkwardly shifting back and forth from foot to foot. You gave him a less than impressed look, before turning back in the direction of your chambers.

“Come along, then. You can explain to me what happened on the way. I swear, it is baffling how you two manage to annoy me more and more every day.”

Aegon lightened up, moving to match your stride. “Oh, come on, darling. Just admit it. You enjoy it, you know you do.”

You rolled your eyes at his improved mood, walking faster, letting him trail you all the way back to your chambers.

—

Settling tensions between Aemond and Aegon was far easier than dealing with Otto and the court. Plus, you found it to be the least hurtful to Aegon.

The harsh words that hurt the most…were from his own mother, Queen Alicent.

Aegon knew he was the least favorite, of both his mother and his father. He knew how she valued Aemond, and how she doted on Helaena. He knew that, despite his father neglecting all his youngest children, the King at least had something in common with his younger siblings.

Aegon was almost foreign to him, like a granted wish gone awry.

Despite being the King’s firstborn son, Aegon’s very existence was a constant reminder of all the King and Queen’s failures in the family, and of all the wasted opportunities to strengthen House Targaryen.

To the King, Aegon was a reminder of the years he wasted on wanting a son, neglecting Rhaenyra as his first born.

To Alicent, Aegon was a reminder of how she was a child herself, practically sold and made to squeeze out heirs for the Crown. Aegon was a product of her father’s own selfish ambition, a point of view she could not bring herself to look past.

She loved her son, nobody doubted that.

But she did not like him. The same could be said for the King.

Considering she was the Queen, Aegon’s mother was a lot more difficult for you to stand up to. Speaking directly against her in her presence was not wise, and you often had to bite your tongue and console Aegon about it later.

This evening in particular was proving to be one of the worst times she had publicly treated him, both verbally and physically. Apparently, she had grown quite used to disciplining him in front of you.

If you could even call it that.

It had all happened so fast. You were in the Queen’s chambers, sitting by the fire with her.

One minute, you were having tea with Alicent and listening to her tell you about her day. The next, Aegon had been dragged in by Ser Criston, unsuccessfully fighting against his hold.

Ser Criston dragged him into the center of the room, letting him go before standing in front of the door to block the exit. Not that he necessarily needed to. Aegon couldn’t beat Ser Criston in a fight on a good day. Let alone as drunk as he apparently was.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Your Grace, My Lady. I found him nearly passed out on the steps outside the training yard. The Prince has apparently already had his fill. Didn’t even make it to Flea Bottom, which is where I presume he was going.”

Alicent closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “You found him? Or someone alerted you of his presence?”

“One of the servants, Your Grace. Apparently he was making quite the fuss before he passed out.”

Aegon collapsed into a nearby chair, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands. He let out a groan, leaning back.

As you looked at him, you realized it wasn’t just wine that had weakened his resolve. His eyes were hazy, his movements staggered. He had taken milk of the poppy, and quite a high dosage at that.

An option that he rarely referred to anymore, knowing how much you hated seeing him on it. Something must’ve happened, something bad.

“A fuss?” You asked, trying to avoid staring at Aegon.

“It is not for a Lady’s ears, I’m afraid,” Ser Criston hesitated. “He was…rather crude, I should say. Speaking incoherently to himself, loud enough for the servants to take notice.”

Alicent stood and nodded, brushing her skirts down. “Thank you, Ser Criston. I appreciate your discretion. I will handle it from here, you may go.”

“Yes, My Queen,” he said, nodding to her before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

You stood, unsure of whether or not you should leave as well. You would later come to regret not doing so.

Alicent stood in front of Aegon, glaring down at him. “Have you no shame? Is the reputation you already uphold not bad enough? Do you have any idea about the kind of burden you are, not only on yourself, but on your family?”

Aegon didn’t look up, keeping his eyes on the floor. He slumped down in his chair, shielding his eyes from the light of the fire.

“Look at me,” Alicent said, before sharpening her tone enough to make Aegon flinch. “Look at me!”

When he didn’t, she pulled his hair at the nape of his neck back to tilt his head up, before backhanding him across the face. Her ring caught on his cheek, leaving a small cut at the top of his cheekbone.

You quietly gasped, bringing a hand to your mouth to stifle the noise.

Alicent didn’t seem fazed, now gaining Aegon’s attention. “Is it not enough to embarrass me, not only as your Mother and as your Queen, but to embarrass the whole of your family, as well? Does it not embarrass you, carrying yourself like this, in front of them…in front of Y/N? Does it not bother you, what she must think of you?”

Aegon’s eyes flitted to yours, before turning away in shame. You felt your heart ache at the sight, keeping quiet beside your chair.

“How many times must I discuss this with you, Aegon? When will you learn?”

“What’s the point, Mother?” Aegon finally asked, giving her a sad smile. “You’ll be disappointed in me anyway, no matter what I do. Why even bother?”

She slapped him across his cheek again, adding to the already reddened skin. The blood from his cut smeared along his cheekbone. Aegon let out a sound of pain, swallowing his words.

You couldn’t take it any longer, walking over and gently placing your arm on Alicent’s, turning her to you.

“You Grace, I am sorry to interrupt. But it seems I have overstayed my welcome, and I would hate to intrude. I’ll be on my way, if you’ll excuse me.”

She shook her head, grabbing one of your hands in hers. “Not at all, my dear. I enjoyed your company. I thank you for it, and I apologize for my son’s interruption.”

“He was no trouble, My Queen. If you’d like, I can see to it that he makes it back safely to his chambers?”

“That is quite alright, darling,” she said, turning back to Aegon. “I have a few more things I’d like to discuss with my son, but it is kind of you to offer. You may go, Y/N. Thank you for the tea.”

You politely smiled. “Of course. Goodnight, Your Grace.”

You turned to go, hesitating at the door when you heard Alicent retreat back to stand in front of Aegon.

You didn’t want to go.

You didn’t want to leave him there, to endure any more of his mother’s wrath. But there was nothing you could do.

There was little you could say this time. There was no way to protect him while it happened, not without risking yourself in the process. And you knew how much Aegon hated when you did that, when it was actually dangerous.

So, you left, returning to your chambers.

You simply had to wait for Aegon to make a decision. It usually boiled down to two options.

Go to Flea Bottom, start drinking, and keep drinking until whatever memory he had of the night disappeared into his cups. Or…he could go to your chambers, and find another kind of comfort there.

You prayed that he’d choose the latter, tonight. You paced back and forth in your chambers for what seemed like hours before you got any answers. You knew the gods ruled in your favor when a feeble knock was heard on your chamber door later that night, making you sigh in relief.

“Come in,” you said, anxiously standing at the foot of your bed.

There was a pause, and then the door creaked open, revealing a disheveled and apprehensive Aegon. He closed the door behind him, coming to stand in the middle of the room.

He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You took the time to look at him, observing his form. The bruise on his cheek had settled in, all black and blue. The cut from his mother’s ring was beginning to scab over, dry blood crusted along his cheekbone. His cheek was reddened, with the slightest imprint of a hand, marking the flesh. A fresh bruise was beginning to form around his temple, a garish green encircling it.

You didn’t even want to know what that one was from.

You slowly approached him, careful not to make any rash movements. “Can I touch you?”

He still didn’t meet your eyes, but slowly nodded.

Gently, you cupped his jaw so you could turn his head, checking for any wounds you could have missed. Slowly and carefully, you moved your hands up to cup his face in your palms, gently running your thumbs across his cheekbones.

Aegon let out a pained whimper, leaning into your touch.

“Did I hurt you?” You asked, moving to pull your hands away. He quickly stopped you, grabbing your wrists and holding you still, silently asking for you to not let go.

His voice was shaky. “No.”

“You weren’t drunk, were you?” You asked, resuming running your thumbs across the top of his cheekbones. “It was milk of the poppy.”

His eyes met yours, a look of guilt flashing across his face. You shook your head, shushing him.

“I’m not angry. Just tell me the truth.”

He was reluctant to, but he finally nodded, confirming your suspicions. You sighed deeply, moving your hands to brush his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ears.

“Why?”

“You know why,” he replied, his voice quiet.

You did.

Sometimes, getting drunk wasn’t enough. Sometimes, Aegon felt like he was suffocating, and the only way to fill his lungs was to cloud his mind first, easing his thoughts. Milk of the poppy usually did the trick.

You didn’t press the matter further, nodding. “Are you going to tell me what happened after I left?”

“The usual happened,” he said, his jaw clenched. “Mother yelled, I listened. She hit, I got hit. Don’t worry, though, you witnessed the best of it. Don’t think you missed the entertaining part.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, sharpening your tone. “Don’t say that. I didn’t enjoy a moment of it, not a single second. Do you think I like watching you get hurt?”

He returned his gaze to the floor, flinching at your sudden change in demeanor. You stopped yourself, not wanting to sound like you were scolding him, like his mother does all too frequently. Gently, you lifted your sleeve and tried to softly wipe away the blood that had stained his cheek.

You were interrupted by a sudden tear, rolling down his cheek. You looked up, only to be met with Aegon’s eyes brimming with tears that were slowly falling down his face like fresh snow from the sky.

“Aegon?” You asked, cupping his chin, trying to make him look at you. The tears kept flowing. Finally, his eyes met yours.

“Am I a burden?”

Your jaw slacked in shock. “What? Of course not, why would you ask that?”

“My Mother believes it to be true,” he said, face crumbling. “That’s what she said, after you left. That I’m a burden to you, always making you clean up my messes.”

You quickly shook your head, gently wiping away his tears. “That’s not true, Aegon. She’s wrong. I don’t do anything for you out of obligation, or because I feel I need to. I do it because I want to. If nobody in this family is going to give you even an ounce of optimism or support, then I’ll happily be the one to do it.”

“You shouldn’t have to–,” he starts, pulling himself from your grip.

“I want to.”

Aegon took a deep breath, and you watched as his shoulders shook and his eyes clouded with tears, all red and bloodshot. He made a sound of frustration, balling his hands into fists at his sides. His voice was desperate.

“I’m trying, Y/N…I’m trying so fucking hard.”

You felt your heart shatter, quickly throwing your arms around his neck. You pulled him close to you, cradling his head with one hand, squeezing him tightly to you with the other. Aegon melted into your embrace, locking his arms around you, desperately clutching at the fabric of your clothes. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, and you felt hot tears landing on your skin. You paid them no mind, gently shushing him.

“I know you’re trying,” you said, willing yourself not to cry as well, staying strong for him. “I know. And that’s all I could ever ask of you.”

You leaned back far enough to cup his jaw, wiping away the tears. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, gently caressing his face.

“I know it seems like nobody is seeing your efforts, or that nobody cares enough to acknowledge them. But I care, alright? I care. I see it, I see you trying. You’re doing your best, Aegon. That’s all you can really do. And if our family can’t see or understand that, it’s their problem. Not yours. Alright?”

He slowly nodded, taking a deep breath. “Alright.”

You nodded, taking his hand in yours, pulling him along with you to your bed.

“Come on, then. It’s late, you need to lie down. I refuse to deal with you all cranky and sleep deprived in the morning because you were too stubborn to rest.”

Aegon softly grinned, letting you guide him. “What are you talking about? I’m a delight in the mornings.”

“You’re a gremlin in the mornings,” you retorted, patting the space of the bed next to you. “Now lie down. That wasn’t a request.”

Aegon could feel the troubles lifting from his shoulders already, watching you invite him into your space with open arms. He nearly chuckled at the serious face you had put on, one you normally reserved for scoldings.

“As you command, darling,” he said, crawling in next to you. “Who would I be to deny you?”

“A fool.”

Your reply was quick, with absolutely no hesitation in your voice. It made Aegon grin wider as he felt his heart warm, settling himself close beside you.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

—

A/N - Hi! I don’t love this outcome honestly, but I hope this is what you were looking for. If it’s not, I’ll gladly accept another request and try to do better. Let me know what you think.

#house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #alicent hightower #otto hightower #aemond targaryen #house targaryen

[loquaciousquark]

Finished the Astarion origin run, got my Honour mode achievement, and have enabled my gold dice.

That said, and despite some very funny things that happened over the course of the run, I really did not enjoy playing as Astarion and don't think I'll be running any other origins anytime soon.

It didn't just feel like I wasn't playing with Tav, it hardly felt like I was playing with Astarion. As a companion he's richly developed, with a beautifully crafted arc and frequent colorful commentary and viciously strong opinions on just about everything Tav does. He grows and changes based on the events of the game and reacts to moments of doubt with fear or courage, depending on where in the plot you are.

Origin Astarion is almost as much a blank slate as Tav, with nearly all of that wonderful color stripped out. Aside from a handful of unique scenes (most notably a nightmare in Act 1 leading into the first bite), everything else happens exactly as it does to Tav, and there's no little voice in the back of your head informing your characterization. No notes on the Araj encounter like, "You fear being touched. Even now it brings up a sense of fear, loathing. Is it worth it to sacrifice your body, to bite this drow, for a potion?" No clear suggestions during your romance that you might have hangups about having spent two hundred years using your body to lure people to their deaths over and over, nothing suggesting outright that you might have some hesitation to engage in sex. Just a dialogue option here and there, one of four, that allows for that choice, if you choose to even think about it in the first place.

Even worse, things like the drow scene--which, in a Tav run, is a moment of great fear and uncertainty for him transformed into a moment of defiance & strength, a pivotal point in his characterization--has been revamped, if you'll pardon the pun. Araj is deferent and polite to origin Astarion, not assumptive and proprietary. She formally requests the bite and is gracious when you say no, and in-universe I couldn't find a single reason for him to be offended or to decline. You don't even find out her blood smells/tastes bad until you bite her; there's no forewarning, no choice, no crisis of exchanging your body for power. No companion steps in and says "you don't have to do this if you don't want to." Tav isn't there to support his first "no" in two hundred years. It's just a transactional offer, no harm no foul, and all the weight of it is yanked away.

It really felt like there was no guidance. All the strong opinions that made Astarion Astarion had been stripped out, and you really could shape him however you wanted, without much input from the narrator or his own history.

I tried my best to stay true to what I thought Astarion would do in each moment, and it turns out without someone (Tav or anyone) checking in on him and occasionally holding him back, he became this hedonistic possessive creature who slept with everyone and loved no one at all, not even himself. Tav wasn't around to make him feel safe, so he took power until he made himself safe. Tav wasn't around to suggest sex could be anything but physical, so he engaged in its physical transaction whenever he could to make sure he had everyone as hooked as possible. It didn't matter the trail of hurt people he left behind him. Nobody bothered to tell him he didn't have to sell his body for a potion. Nobody bothered to tell him they wanted to be with him with or without sex, and after two hundred years, old habits died hard.

Lae'zel - slept with immediately, but after the bruised "everything hurts" feeling the morning after, he decided not to pursue it. Successfully persuaded her to stick around after siding with the Emperor and letting him assimilate Orpheus, not because he really cared if she stayed but because he didn't want to have to expend the energy to fight her.

Gale - had sex with him in the Weave, then broke up with him. He became the God of Ambition at Astarion's encouragement. Probably the most hurt by Astarion's inability to love. As delighted as Astarion was by Gale conjuring up towers and libraries for him, I think for all Astarion's sexual experience he wasn't able to get his footing in the Weave, especially when Gale started growing extra arms and heads. He was put off enough by not having control of the sex that he never wanted to repeat it, and Gale was totally heartbroken.

Wyll - danced with him and kissed him, but broke up with him immediately when he stated he preferred a long courtship & old-fashioned romance. Encouraged Wyll to take as much power as possible, leading to him becoming Grand Duke.

Karlach - flirted with her the whole first and second acts, and for a long time I thought having to actually get to know her as a person and remember her likes & dislikes--actual facts about her outside of her sexual preferences--might finally teach Astarion how to let someone into his heart. Except then, thanks to a series of unfortunate cutscene priorities in late Act 2, other people's romances came first all in a row, and by the time Karlach's night finally triggered, he'd already made his way through Gale, Wyll, and two very tense scenes with Tavish-Emperor, and he'd hardened his heart again after hurting all three of them. Karlach ended up being endgame romance in that he went to Avernus with her, but I don't think he felt anything more than a possessive affection for her by the end. The dialogue option I picked even reflected that; it wasn't the "I know you're afraid to be alone, and this time it'll be different because I'll be with you" choice, it was the "I refuse to allow you to die. Get up and let's go" choice. Unfortunate.

Tavish-Emperor - slept with, and sided with in the final battle. She assimilated Orpheus and ran off into the city, so Lae'zel didn't even get her dragons.

Halsin - slept with regularly, much to Karlach's unhappiness. No real affection here, just a release of tension and I think a very selfish assurance to himself that Karlach didn't "own" him just because she loved him, that he was still free to do whatever he wanted.

Minthara - propositioned him, but because saying yes would have permanent consequences with Karlach, he declined. Again, not because he really cared about hurting Karlach at this point, but because it would get too messy and dramatic afterwards if he didn't.

Shadowheart - did not engage with romantically and ended up catty BFFs, which I honestly found such a relief. She saved Nightsong (mostly because Astarion couldn't be bothered to intervene) and moted her parents. :(

This Astarion also ascended, because that's what his search for power culminated in, and again, there was no one saying "my guy, I love you for who you are right now. You don't have to do this. Not because it would be sad to kill all those people, but because I'd be sad if you became something else." I hated that cutscene the first time I recorded it for the Astarion Supercut and I hated watching it again now as the Astarion origin. I won't be letting that happen again.

Anyway. I know I was in control of the character and could have made different choices, but I was really trying to play him as I thought he would react in those moments, and I didn't care for the outcome at all. I felt like I'd lost almost two whole characters this run, and even with as much as I really like Minthara, I'll be going back to my tried and true (and very much missed) Tavish as a palate cleanser in the next few days.

#astarion #quark plays bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion origin #bummers all around

[thecameronchronicles]

My Eyes Only

TW: semi-public sex. Language. Smut. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism hinted. 

SUMMARY: JJ's POV about his obsession with Rafe's girlfriend. 

WORD COUNT: 1000

REQUESTED

Could you write JJ being obsessed with Rafe’s girlfriend and watching them as they fool around in his truck thinking nobody is around from his pov ???

My Eyes Only

JJ's POV

I fucking hate Kooks. Entitled and pretentious-a word Pope often used when describing them and it sounded good enough for me. But no matter the dictionary definition, they always had the best of everything. Including her…

A few boneyard parties and her introduction had come from the lips of none other than Kiara. A former friend at her time at the Kook Academy who was decent enough to keep from being compared to Sarah, but still among the masses of everything we were against. But she was so goddamn hot, it hurt. The kind that makes a man need a release with less than a three second observation. The kind of body that is the reason I've nearly rubbed myself raw in the memories of her laugh and her hips…

Dammit…

Taking stock behind HEYWARDs to wait for Pope's shift to end to meet with the other pogues, I pulled a cigarette to my lips. Anything to calm this need to react. To my demons. To expectations of me. To her…But at least it was only the torment endured in selective social situations and-

You've got to be joking. An entire island and she's here. Not just galavanting around with her friends or torturing me with that unattainable beauty, but with him. Her boyfriend. Rafe fucking Cameron. King of the Kooks. Coke head. Shit, I thought she was smarter than this. But after the summer passed and they were still as thick as thieves, I guess I was wrong about her. 

But damn. She was a marvel to watch. Even when intertwined with him. Even as her lips were on his neck and his were greedy on her curves, she was beautiful. She was sexy. She was the reason my shorts were suddenly too tight in the same comparison to my fists and my sides. 

Throbbing was an understatement. 

His fingers ran up over the tee that already descended over one shoulder, her breast cupped and kneaded to cause a moan from her full lips. The sight alone made me twitch as I thought he may make her groan but I could make her scream. And buckle. And beg. And come. Hard. Repeatedly. 

Fuck. 

She straddled him in the front seat of his dad's truck, seat belt thrown to the side much like their care of being seen. She rocked against him as he kissed her. Changing between soft to feverish kisses, but a hold that kept her in that motion against him. Kooks got fucking everything. He was getting the attention my cock desperately needed. 

No cigarettes would help that. 

"Rafe…" she mouthed as she angled herself back upon the steering wheel, managing to keep from setting off the horn as he slipped his hand into them. It took only a moment of deduction before realizing he had been selfless enough to touch her. The twist of her face and slack of her lips making me groan in the imagery of my hands-my fingers. My cock threatening its pulse beneath her. 

"Oh my God…" She groaned again, silent, but audible by her reactions to me. Me. Wait. Fuck. She saw me. And she was…smiling. Endorsed by this. Turned on by this. Enjoying my attention on her. 

"Fuck…" I tried to look away, my cheeks expected to be every shade of red Kiara would be able to label, but this goddamn kook princess made possible. 

With every grind of her hips made into Rafe, she breathed for me. Every time he kissed her neck, that facial expression drew prideful as if putting on a show. This greedy girl wanted me to watch. And like a victim to my own needs, I didn't just observe, I savored. Every breath, every arch of her brow, every grin interrupted by a moan. 

"Do it." She mouthed as she kept Rafe focused elsewhere. My cock twitched to her order. I was reckless, it was an attribute I accepted more than rolled my eyes at. But it was four o'clock in the middle of the week, my reputation for my last name already an anchor to my depleting legacy. This would bring names of perverse existence to me. 

But I needed that release.

"Please…" she begged as my jaw tensed. My hand in my belt before I could stop myself. The cover of the shop keeping me from the eyes of those in passing, the chance of being seen coming from any pulling this shop. I angled myself to my back at this chance but my eyes set over my shoulder to watch her. 

"Yes…yes…" she spoke to me, enough that I swear I could hear it in my ear or coming from my hand itself. Every stroke bringing the most erotic of twinges to my dick. Focusing on the head as I pulled and quickened, slowing to steady that release. 

"Faster JJ…" she mouthed again, this time gaining Rafe's attention. But she was a master at her seductions. Even if he could have seen me, even for a second, her lips to him had been enough to distract him again. Her body chasing the same high as mine without either of us touching each other. 

Guilt and greed dancing on the skirt of my release as I caved to her expressions. That pretty smile pulled to a wide oval as Rafe grinned into her chest. A lack of sex still bringing her to this edge by his touch alone as my stomach twisted at the thought. I could be better. If he was, everything she needed, she wouldn't be able to fucking walk after I was done with her. She would…ugh…

Oh my God. 

That smile. That smile of victory to me was all it took as I came over my hand. Hot spurt after spurt as I was plagued with regret.

JJ Maybank obsessed with Rafe Cameron's girlfriend, enough to jerk himself off behind his best friend's dad's shop all because of her fucking smile. But I would be lying if I said it wasn't worth it to know she wanted me…

TAGLIST:

@rafesmoon @maybankslover @puzziepoppin @gillybear17 @onclouds999

@hopebaker @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf 

Taglist: @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection @jjsprettybaby

MASTERLIST

JJ MAYBANK MASTERLIST

2ND JJ MAYBANK MASTERLIST

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks smut #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx fanfiction #obx smut #outerbanks #outerbanks smut #outerbanks fanfiction #rudy pankow

[kidstemplatte]

Hi! I'm here to say I would read anything you have or make about Terzo as a dad!! 🥰🥰

the devil’s kiss

pairing: dad! terzo x female reader

summary: after giving birth to you and terzo’s first child, you discover there is something different about her.

message: hi angel!!! thanks so much for your request, i had an idea i absolutely loved, and as i kept writing it, i realized it could be split into several parts. what started as a few headcanons has now become a fully fledged story with characters of my own, and i’m a little in love with it if i’m being honest. it’s something very special and personal for me. i hope you enjoy this and i’m sorry if it’s not exactly what you wanted!!

When your baby girl, Violetta, was born, many tears were shed. First, tears of pain. Then, tears of joy, tears of fear, and tears of joy once again.

And just barely after she took her first breath, entered this world, she was taken away before you knew it. Before you could even process her arrival, she was rushed out of the room.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong? What’s happening?” you cried in a panicked haze, weary from medication and high on adrenaline.

You had never felt such fear in your life. Terzo held your hand and muttered soft, rapid prayers in Italian and words of reassurance into your ear while you let out broken sobs, desperate to hold your daughter for the first time.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. She will be okay.”

Little did you know, he was just as afraid in that moment. But he kept a strong face, for you. For her.

“May Satanas bless our baby girl.”

And that he did.

Soon, a nurse entered the room, holding your daughter. She was a young woman, highlighted blonde hair pulled into a bun, wearing a dainty gold necklace with a small cross on the chain.

“Is she okay? Please, tell me she is okay.”

“She is perfectly healthy. She has what is called a port wine stain birthmark. We weren’t sure what it was initially, that’s why we rushed her out so quickly. I can’t apologize enough for the stress that caused, but you can breathe easy. She’s doing perfectly." The nurse explained, heart beaming with kindness. “You did a wonderful job. And you too, dad. You two are going to be great parents. Congratulations.” She reassured you, and with care, placed your baby into your arms.

“You know, some people consider marks like these an angel’s kiss. I do.” She remarked.

After catching sight of the pitch black grucifix on the bedside table, she was drawn aback. She was scared. But upon seeing the love in your eyes you had for your little girl, she quickly realized that neither of you could be evil. She couldn’t be scared of something because it was different.

“Or the mark of the devil. It’s really whatever makes you happy. The figure you may believe in, whether it’s God, the Universe, or Satan, whatever it is: they have blessed her. She is a special baby girl. Congratulations, you two.” And in the last few moments you spent with the nurse, you caught sight of her name tag that read “Elizabeth”.

And you were left with your precious baby girl, Violetta Elizabetta Emeritus.

“She’s beautiful.” you said, tears rushing down your face.

Eyes resembling your own, his raven hair, and of course, her devil’s kiss, entirely her own; a perfect representation of your love.

You had introduced Terzo to so many kinds of love, but nothing like this. Nothing like the moment when he caught sight of your baby girl for the first time. Nothing like the first time he held her, her skin so soft and eyes so big and round. His heart ached. He wanted nothing more than to make a perfect world for this child, it was his purpose beyond anything else. Nothing else mattered. The years of fame, traveling, money, and success meant nothing; she meant everything. The word “Papa” had become something entirely different, no longer a term of power, but one of love. He was her Papa. Nobody else’s.

A few minutes later, after you had spent some time with your newborn skin-on-skin, the doctor came back into the room and gave you another explanation of her condition, one that wasn’t as kind, but to the point.

“These birthmarks are rare. There are some conditions she may develop which correlate to the birthmark, but nothing to be too concerned about. Everything looks stable. She’s not in pain.”

She was safe with you, and that’s all that mattered.

After the doctor exited the room, Terzo kissed you on the forehead and stroked your hair gently through his fingers.

“I love you, amore mio. Le mie preziose ragazze. Il tuo fiore prezioso.”

——————————————————————

AAAAAAAA!

that’s it!!!

i really hope you enjoyed and please stay tuned for more dad terzo!!!

i got a little emotional writing this ngl,

remember that you are beautiful and so loved!

#ghost band #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus x reader #terzo #terzo x reader #the band ghost #papa emeritus #ghost #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa terzo #dad!terzo #terzo emeritus #nameless ghouls #ghost x reader

[dickmedowndc]

Goodnight - John Constantine x Reader

Word Count: 987

Summary: When your partner is haunted by as many demons as John is, and carries too much weight on his shoulders, you learn to take the little moments as they come. Nobody ever promised love would be easy – in fact, it had been explicitly stated from the time that you were little that it took work. So, when you get a quiet moment, one where Constantine comes through the door before collapsing into bed, you cherish it.

Notes: Requested by @bellagomez-barriga. I used Prompt #25, “good night kisses”, from the prompt list “a hundred different kisses.” It was just a request for some general fluff for Constantine – I tried, I do love this mess of a man, but I don’t know much about him. This is probably my shortest work yet, didn't have much to go on.

…★…

The fleeting form of sleep was softly leaving your mind single file. The was no abrupt wake-up call, no banging at the doors and windows, or a crack of thunder. In fact, the room you had been sleeping in just moments ago remained as silent and lonely as it had been when you had finally laid down for a nap. 

With a grumble you reached forward, bleary-eyed, before knocking the phone on the nightstand closer. You didn’t think before clicking it on – quick to close your eyes and shield your head from the onslaught of white light. When a minute had passed you finally peaked at the screen. It was 10 at night. Well past sunset and well past the alarm you had set. You figured that you had silenced it one too many times, only thankful that you had nothing else to do for the rest of the day. 

But that still left the matter of what had woken you. 

It had not been your body, which argued against every movement of yours as you sat up, scanning the dark room for anything different. 

Still nothing seemed to step forward from the shadows. No demon or apparition appeared before you. Not that it would feel too out of left field considering the things you had seen since Constantine had become a more permanent fixture in your life. 

Your wondering did not continue for much longer when you heard the bedroom door creak open and a slouched body shuffled through the door. 

John had certainly endured better days, you noted, before the man of the hour himself fell face first onto the bed. 

A moment passed in utter silence before he shifted onto his side, one hand reached out to rest on your leg. Like he was making sure that you were really there beside him. 

Gently you reached down and took his hand in your own, giving it a squeeze. 

The cold outside must have been unforgiving, because you could feel how the chill of the air had sapped away any warmth he had. Something you made a note to remedy with thick covers and cuddles, if he was in the mood. 

It was his voice that broke the silence that enveloped you both. “Did I wake you, love?” 

“I’m not sure, something did – but I was overdue to wake up from my nap anyways,” you cooed, reaching out to push shaggy blonde hair away from his face. 

It was almost painfully obvious how the day had worn on him. It had been a rougher one then, though you were sure he would try to spare you the details instead. Skin still ice to the touch, fingers barely wrapped around your own. You could bet his coat was soaked through as well. Even his hair was damp from the slowly rolling rain that had been making its way into town for the larger part of the day. 

But none of that mattered when Constantine seemed to melt under your touch, content to lay in the bed with your hands in his hair. 

You didn’t have the heart to chastise him for soaking the covers. You could always pull out another set, or bundle up together on the dry side of the bed when he was finally changed. Still, it couldn’t be comfortable to be so cold, and warmth would make itself at home faster when he was in something dry. “John?” 

There was a half-hearted grumble in response before he opened his eyes to look at you. 

“Come on, let's get you into something warmer.” Gently you stood, trying to pull the tired sorcerer up with you. It was a challenge, he certainly didn’t want to move, but it wasn’t anything that a few quick pleas and a pair of puppy dog eyes couldn’t fix. 

It seemed to work enough though, because once he was up and moving, John made quick work of changing into something more comfortable – even if you had interrupted him by throwing a fluffy towel directly at his head in a silent request to dry off. 

Minutes later John made his way back into the bed, pulling you against his chest. His eyes were closed, and for a moment you thought he was asleep before he spoke once more. “You’re staring.” 

“You’re attractive.” 

You could hear the amused huff and see the quirk of a smile resting on just the edge of his lips. 

You had gotten quite good at shooting back compliments. And while the first few might have caught him off guard, he had grown accustomed to the comments by now. Though he would never admit that in front of anyone else. 

Moments like this – where the world was quiet, and you had John in arm's length without the weight of a life on his shoulder – when everything was finally still. They were a rare commodity. And one that you cherished greatly. And it wasn’t always easy, John could be brash or a little too full of himself. The two of you still fought. You still woke up alone maybe more often than you wanted. 

But minutes like this, where you could feel his heartbeat under your hand, and see some of that responsibility finally melt away. They made every challenge the two of you had faced seem minuscule. 

Nothing worth fighting for was ever easy, but loving him was easy enough. At least to you. 

You could hear his breathing beginning to even out – he wasn’t asleep yet, but he would be soon. You could go for a round two of napping yourself, especially with him by your side. 

Gently, trying your best not to startle him, you pushed forward, placing a kiss against his lips. He responded lazily, opening his eyes to look at you as you settled back into your spot. “Goodnight.” 

He paused for a moment before you felt his arm tighten around you. “Goodnight, love.” 

#dc x reader #nicole writes #john constantine x reader

[littledollll]

You’re so kind honestly I can’t wait to read part two.

What I keep thinking about since reading is:

Lucifer keeps his little a secret not wanting to out them about it. However not all the demons are so pleased about an angel running around that they can’t torture. One of them manage to upset the angel somehow and his angel slips into little space as a coping mechanism. Lucifer is then torn between comforting his little and caring for them in their state and punishing the demon who upset their angel. ~shy anon

Sweet little angel

(Pt. 2 to “Little angel”)

Lucifer Morningstar x little!angel!reader

Warnings: angsty but with comfort, description of violence, threats, Very very small reader, non/semi-verbal reader, crying, anxiety, very angry Lucifer, and very soft Lucifer with Reader

A/n: GAH I LOVE THIS SM thank you shy anon for giving me writing inspo, I need more little r with Lucifer in my life I’m so happy rn stop

Having Lucifer as your partner, and caregiver was better than anything you could’ve ever imagined. Things only got better since the day they found out about your regression, they confessed how happy it made them, how it would wipe away all their worries when they took care of you. You were precious to them in so many ways, but as much as they’d love to show you off to the whole realm they knew what came with being an angel in hell.

Despite their warnings you refused to be always locked up in the castle, so they complied with joining you on walks around the realm and visiting different places they’ve mentioned before to you. Nobody would dare approach you as you walked along side their ruler. You’d get harsh looks and the ocasional snarl or growl your way, which Lucifer would quickly punish with a simple wave of their hand the demon would be out of sight, to where you didn’t want nor need to know.

You wanted so badly to be able to walk those paths alone once, not because you didn’t enjoy Lucifer’s company but just because you wanted that sense of independence, like you didn’t need to always be protected. You requested to start going on walks with lower ranks, at first the demons were cautious, careful of the fact Lucifer could just be around the corner, the same attitude as always continued those days, they’d lose a hand by Mazikeen’s command.

They got brave after that. With the rare times you’d leave without Lucifer they knew only Mazikeen was there to look after you, they started getting chatty. “God gave them the runt of the litter” said a demon as you passed by, you ignored them. “we’ll get you alone some day” this one seemed to follow behind you. “You’ll regret ever stepping foot out of that castle, can’t go out without a guard, what? are you too weak?” And finally. “What is an angel if not a chew toy for us to tear apart.” The way that demon didn’t even see you as a being, how he was just waiting. Anxiously anticipating the day they’d finally get you. A chew toy he said.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to run into Lucifer’s arms and feel safe again. You grabbed Mazikeens wrist, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried so hard not to breakdown, you could feel yourself slipping. “I wana go home..” Mazikeen was the only one who knew, being Lucifer’s right hand meant trust and undying loyalty. She swore to keep you safe the second Lucifer confessed how they felt for you, and she swore to keep your secret the minute you confided in her enough to tell her. Lucifer would put their life in Mazikeens hands, that was enough said, you could trust her aswell.

She proved herself when in a matter of seconds you were safely back home, in your room and sat on your bed, while she busied herself with summoning Lucifer to you. You made no effort to move from your bed as you hugged one of your stuffies tightly and just cried. What was taking them so long?

Lucifer was explained everything once they met with Mazikeen, they were torn, that demon deserved to be punished, by their own hand, the demon would learn a whole new meaning of pain, they’d do it publicly, Lucifer decided, the demon would be used as an example to show what happens to those who even attempt to hurt you. Then be sent to eternal suffering, purgatory, for so much as looking at you wrong.

Lucifer heard your cries, and then their mind was made up, the demon would be taken care of later. For now, they had a much more important little one to focus on. Lucifer never liked to see you cry, sometimes you’d just be pouty or fussy, that happens to every little, but knowing it was caused by one of their subjects filled them with wrath, wrath that had to be pushed down for now. It wasn’t more important than you, and they couldn’t risk scaring you.

You practically jumped into their arms, stuffie in hand, the second they walked through that door. “My sweet angel.. what have they done to you.” You just cried more. “Thank you Mazikeen, we will discuss this later, you are dismissed.” Mazikeen only nodded and left. Lucifer made their way back to bed, arms wrapped around you tight as their hand soothed your back. Sure you’ve cried before but never had they seen you so distraught, and also, so small. You couldn’t get a word out as your cries were replaced with sniffles and you clung to them like your life depended on it.

Truly, Lucifer was at a loss, you’ve never regressed so small before, and nothing like this had ever happened, if you were big they’d openly admit the demon was going to be punished, but saying that to you right now would do no good. So they settled for comforting you, they let you cling to them and cry until all that could be heard was your struggled breathing and sniffling, then they held you even tighter. After a few minutes of silence they concluded they should probably say something, anything really, an apology was the first thing to leave their mouth.

“I’m sorry, my sweet little angel. I’m so sorry.” They took a deep breath hugging you close to their chest. Sure they were angry, but they were mostly heartbroken, to think their home, what was supposed to be your home as well caused you so much harm. Maybe it was just words this time, but what would happen if you were alone, or if more than one demon decided to target you, or you slipped before you could get away?

Their mind ran rampant before your small voice and hand over their heart brought them back. “fast.” you stated as a fact. You do that a lot when you’re small, they always found it so adorable. Lucifer only nodded. “Are you alright, tiny?” You shook your head burying it into their chest again. “Tiny hurts” yeah. Heartbroken was the word of the day. “Luci’s going to make sure that demon isn’t mean again okay? I won’t let you get hurt, tiny.” You held up your pinky looking up with teary eyes. This time they immediately laced their own with yours and kissed your hand.

“I pinky promise, my little love, nobody’s going to hurt you again.” your breathing was mostly getting back to normal and your sniffles stopped, you nodded and shuffled up. “What’s wrong, tiny?” You gently grabbed their face and gave them a little smile. You let out a little “Mwah!” as you have them a kiss on the forehead and handed them your stuffie. “Well thank you, little one, what’s that for?” They said as they hugged the stuffed animal close. You placed your hand back on their heart. “luci hurts” Lucifer sighed, a smile on their face as they replied. “Well I’m all cured now, thanks to you. What did I ever do to deserve such a sweet little angel?”

#i love u shy anon #shy anon love page #the sandman #cg!lucifer sandman #lucifer sandman #sandman lucifer x reader #gwendoline christie #cg! sandman lucifer #the sandman lucifer #sandman Lucifer fluff #lucifer morningstar the sandman #sandman agere #Little angel (Lucifer x little!reader)

[signed-loni]

Could I request Sal with a s/o who's recently relapsed with sh? Preferably in a case where s/o doesn't want to bother Sal because they dont think it's too big of a deal, but he notices/finds out anyway (maybe by them being careless or something).

Thank you if you decide to do this, and have a nice day either way <3

Ofc anon. And if ur going thru anything, feel free to message me <3

Warnings: Mention of self harm, cussing, angst(?)-comfort

You knew you shouldnt have. You knew how long you were clean, but today was a bad day. You didnt know what else to do, so you relapsed.

You let out a shaky sigh and began to roll your sleeves back down. You slowly got up from your place on the floor and quickly hid the knife you just used to break your own skin. You got up and walked out of your room, deciding to get some wayer just to calm you down a bit more. Walking out of your apartment, you walked over to the elevator and pressed 4, you were going to sals.

The elevator stopped with a loud ding! and you walked over to sals place. Hesitating just a bit, you knocked on the door. Sals dad got the door for you, opening it wider once he saw it was you at the door.

“Hello y/n. Good to see you.”

“Hi Mr.Fisher, good to see you to.”

You walked into the apartment while henry told you sal was in his room. You uttered a small “thank you”and walked over to his room.

Knocking on the door, you heard a bit of rustling, probably sal putting on his prosthetic, then a muffled “come in!”

You let yourself in while sal looked up at you from his bed. “Hey babe, whats up?” you plopped yourself next to him and said “nothing, just wanted to see you.” Sal got a small feeling that something was up, but decided to ignore it.

Stretching your arms up, your sleeves fell down just enough for sal to notice the fresh cuts on your arms. His heart sank.

You put your arms down sighing, you needed that stretch. Looking over to your blue haired boyfriend, sal was looking at you with a bunch of mixed emotions in his eyes

Sadness, disappointment, and ever so soight anger in his mood. He grabbed your hand, and took it in his, he looked at you with a sad expression, and you wete beyond confused. “Why was he acting like this? What happened? Is he ok?”

Sal slowly started to utter his sentence, shakiness apparent in his voice. “Y/n.” He thougjt before he spoke. Then,carefully, he asked “have you..been slitting your wrists again?”

The room went quiet. Oh.shit. You stumbled over your words before saying “what? No of course not! W-why?” You said, stuttering like there was no tomorrow. “I can see the cuts.” Fuck. “Uhm..” he tightened his grip on your hand. “Y/n, why? What happened? Did-Did someone do something? Did..i do something?”

You thought before replying. “I had a bad day.”

Sal, not wanting to pry, pulled you into a hug, squeezing so tight you could barely breathe.

“My love, please, stop doing this to yourself. You don’t deserve it. Nobody does. You are perfect, and no matter what anyone says, don’t listen to them. They aren’t worth it”

Picking you up, he took you to his bathroom to get you cleaned up. Carefully turning on the faucet and running you arms under it. You winced and sal looked up at you before continuing. He dried your arms and put Neosporin on the cuts. He put disney princess band aids on all the cuts. Kissing each one after he covered them. Once again picking you up and bringing you back to his bed, cuddling you and whispering sweet nothing into your ear before you both fell asleep.

#sally face #sal fisher x reader #sally face x reader #sal fisher #sally face hcs #sal hurt comfort #sally face comfort

[snakxreader]

How about Floofty enduring shenanigans of the journalist whose oddly open to dangerous experiments?

A/N: First request, and ofc it’s a Floofty one/j

Honestly, OP? I don’t think I wrote Floofty well here at all, but I tried. This was a really interesting ting prompt!

Floofty and Journalist (Platonic)

There were limits to everything, as frustrating as it was.

It was one of the unfortunate realities of the world, and one Floofty had grown entirely used to. Limits in their field. Limits in familial love, despite how close you used to be, and of course ethical limits. The media was honestly overrreacting, they had given multiple consent forms, had debriefed the entire thing before and after, yet they still got treated like a monster by people who thought with their hearts rather than their huts. Media sways opinions and as such, swayed the public into not trusting them. This reputation even followed them to Snaktooth. The horrific Floofty Fizzlebean. They’d find the fear almost funny if it wasn't so humiliating.

So they started to experiment on themselves. Empiricism was the only way they saw fit and it worked them well, no matter the pain. They were their own best test subject, and that was almost to be proud of.

Key word being were.

And then that moronic journalist arrived and somehow they were met with someone more headstrong than them.

No, headstrong was not the word here. This had to be some sort of suicidal ideation because nobody in their right mind would do some of the things Floofty attempted.

Exhibit A; offhandedly mentioning one of their old experiences and then asking if it could be replicated.

Floofty blinked. “Why would you possibly want to know that.”

They shrugged. “Oh, I dunno…sounds fun!” The reporter laughed a little while responding.

“…..You cannot be serious.”

“I dunno, if you need a test subject, I’m willing.” The journalist replied, grinning like a maniac. Floofty’s eye twitched at their apparent humor at the situation.

“This is not a joke. My experiments are incredibly dangerous, and as such, I do them only to myself.”

“Can’t be that bad.”

“Throwing yourself against Bungers to see how far they can throw you?”

“Oh a few feet.” The journalist calmly replied. “They can do some serious damage.”

Floofty sputtered. “A-alright, fine! Remove Bugsnax from the equation. If you were my test subject, I’d have you…stay in exposed contact with lava to detail the Bugsnax near the volcano.”

“Fun! I’m always a bit cold most places I go.”

“Th-Then I’ll do the same thing with the mountain!”

“Always wanted to go camping in the winter!”

“I’ll-I’ll force you to eat Bugsnax and watch how your allergy affects you!”

“Ooooh, so a crytpid?” Their eyes gleamed as excitement laced their voice. “Do you think I’d, like, turn into a creature of unimaginable horrors?”

For a faint minute, they wondered if this was what Snorpington had dealt with, having to convince them not to do the things they did on a daily basis, which they always took in a stride of dark humor.

“Are you afraid of anything…?” They asked feebly.

The journalist winked, finger gun pointed at Floofty. “Paying taxes.”

“W-wha….?”

“But seriously though, those do sound really fun!” They contained, mindlessly rolling their hand about. “Even with the whole ‘danger’ thing, have you considered-hey!”

The journalist tilted their head, eyebrows burrowed. “Floofty, come back!”

Floofty paid the protesting journalist no mind as they walked towards Cromdo’s stand. Even if they’d get most likely scammed, that entire exchange counted for an extreme need of alcoholic beverages.

#bugsnax #floofty fizzlebean #the journalist bugsnax #bugsnax journalist #fic request #(?) #i can’t tell if this counts as x-reader #so I kept the Journalist extremely vague #this sucks ASS. but shrugs. #I hope someone enjoys it ^^’

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Drabbles

the drabbles I promised for my gofundme. Sorry this took so long!

pls pls pls gimmie some hopeless romantic crocodile stuff I'm in need of some passionate kisses nd phrases of my one and only Sir (daddy issues kickin in). It's fem reader and sorry for the bad grammar ... if u did it thanks for not ignoring me (>д<)

     You sat on a couch, smiling as you cuddled up to your boyfriend. You were feeling snuggly today and thankfully he wasn’t doing anything. He was busy so often that he didn’t always get a lot of time to just cuddle with you, meaning that when he did get time, you jumped at it. You couldn’t help it, you liked holding your beloved sandman. He always rolled his eyes at the nickname, but you were pretty sure he liked it, if nothing else, he never fought it. Looking up at him, your smile widened before sitting on your knees to press a kiss to his cheek.

     “I love you, Sandman.” you whispered softly, making him chuckle.

     “I love you too, my desert flower.” he kissed you, his kisses going from soft and sweet to passionate and loving. He loved you so much, you were his desert flower, one he would protect no matter what.

******

Hello, I have this like... Idea... About Trafalgar Law x reader

(reader c-can be gender neutral)

But reader has this big scar on their left eye, no one has seen it yet and reader is very very insecure about it...

Maybe angst with comfort? Idk…

     You always hid the scar, styling your hair to sit over it so that nobody saw. You didn’t want anybody to see it, it wasn’t exactly small and it wasn’t exactly beautiful. People had stared at you in shock and horror before because of it. You’d gotten bad looks, people thinking that you were some kind of thug just because of your eye. So you’d started hiding it. Part of you knew Law didn’t usually care about looks, but with how many people had said things before, you couldn’t risk it. Standing in your room, you took a deep breath, running your hand through your hair, pushing it away from your eye. It had been a long day and you just wanted to relax. 

     “I wondered why you wore your hair like that.” his voice made your head snap over to look at him, the look in your eyes one of surprise and horror. You hadn’t wanted him to see you like this! “Calm down, Y/n. It’s alright. I was just coming in to check on you but you weren’t answering. I heard you had a long day. Thought I might cheer you up.” you looked away, covering the scar with your hand while moving to comb your hair back over it. Feeling his hand on your wrist that combed your hair, you looked up at him.

     “You can hide it from everyone else, but I don’t want you hiding it from me. I love you, all of you.” he said, pulling your other hand away from your eye, placing a gentle kiss to the scar, “I’ll always love you, even if your entire body is covered in hundreds of scars.”

******

How would katakuri react to his fem!s/o always looking at him as if asking for his permission to fight or beat someone up

     He didn’t really understand your need to look to him for permission. If you needed to fight, why ask him for permission? He always nodded anyway. Afterall, if you felt the need to fight then why not let you? You were strong enough to hold your own as well, which brought him back to why? Not that he minded too terribly, he was rarely if ever busy when you gave him that look, he wanted you to know you could fight your own battles if you wanted, so he let you do as you wanted for the most part. So long as it didn’t interrupt your lives, he was fine with it. Besides, you’d tell him in time, right?

******

(Oneshot)I’d like to request how law would react to accidentally hurting his s/o (you can choose how)during one of his check ups on them and his s/o starts crying a little bc of the pain

     It was just a shot, a small flu shot like most of the crew got. But he’d accidentally stabbed it in too hard. He’d been having a hard day and some of the crew didn’t want the flu shot, so he’d stabbed it in before you could attempt to get away from it like the others. When you’d flinched and tears started running down your cheeks, his body had gone ridgid. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, even a little pain. He’d pulled the needle back before he could inject the flu vaccine. He didn’t want to risk making things worse by injecting it into a bad spot.

     “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” he said softly, wiping away the small droplets of blood before kissing the spot. Okay, yes, it was extremely unhygienic to do so, but you needed comfort right now! Even if the pain wasn’t too bad!

     “You um… having a bad day? You asked quietly, wiping the tears away. Law just chuckled and nodded.

     “Yeah. The rest of the crew haven’t been too thrilled with their shots. They keep trying to escape. I’ve had to remove limbs to give them shots. I nearly had to sedate Shachi.” he said with a sigh.

     “Well how about I make your day easier? Give me my flu shot and give me one of the cute Bepo bandaids that I know you keep hidden and I’ll go make you some onigiri. Deal?” Law smiled and nodded, unlocking a drawer and pulling out one of the adorable orange bandaids before picking the syringe back up. He’d be more careful this time.

#one piece #one piece trafalgar d water law #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar d law #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #one piece sir crocodile #one piece crocodile #one piece katakuri #katakuricharlotte #katakuri x reader #katakuri #one piece drabble #drabble