#okay ill admit. i like this one a lot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 1 month

Text

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 27] || [Chapter 29]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: illness, injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff, love confessions! Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: Just a cute little moment

Chapter 28: How in the-

The trip with John was short but sweet. A full weekend together, away from everything…

Followed by 4 whole weeks alone. Not that you minded the extra piece and quiet.

You were normally kept at a distance from the boys and their line of work. Arms length, not because they don’t trust you, but because just like Simon learned to drop Ghost at the door, the rest drop work at the door too.

The closest thing you get to ‘work’ is funny anecdotes that can even make you laugh, OR soft, whispered, retelling of memories as your hands snake over their rough skins, fingers grazing the scars that those memories left behind.

Today was a first. In a lot of ways.

The boys showed up at your flat at 3 A.M. after spending a whole month out of Hereford and in God knows where.

You had opened the door very wearily to the sight of the four of them, not even having changed out of their tactical gear, looking like they had been through hell.

Kyle was walking with a limp and a groan, his back stiff and an inability to properly swivel side to side at the hips.

Johnny had gotten his shoulder shot?? Plus his knee was acting up so he was also limping.

John was, also, limping. His back was also stiff and he murmured something about having pulled a muscle.

And Simon? The man’s eyes were surrounded by circles darker than you’d ever seen them, his shoulders slumped. He moved normally, unlike the others. And that concerned you more than anything.

“Jesus, what happened?”

“Mission mishaps. They happen sometimes, da’lin’.” John told you soothingly as he attempted to press a kiss to the crown of your head, but wincing when he felt the pain shoot up his spine.

“Sounds to me like more than mishaps. There’s no way all four of you are injured and it was just a ‘mishap’.” You scolded them as you carefully helped them off their gear, multiple men groaning and grunting in pain as the heavy weights were shed from their torsos.

“Have you been checked?”

“Yes, we went to medic before coming over-” Kyle told you.

“And they let you leave on foot? You look like you all should be on bed rest!” You scolded them.

“And that’s why we’re here.” Johnny added before letting out a groan when you moved his arm, sending pain barreling down his arm.

“How in the-” You murmured as you noted the patched up bullet wound.

“Don’t ask…” Kyle muttered under his breath, a whimper of a sound that you had never quite heard from him.

They were like lost puppies… Needy for being lulled to sleep by a soft hand caressing them behind the ears after some nasty man kicked them on the street.

So that’s how you ended up with four injured soldiers in your house. Ghost took the living room couch, leaving the bed for John and Kyle and Johnny.

“Don’t get any blood on my bed, Johnny!” You warned him. “If something happens, you call me.” You had added as you made sure they were as comfortable as can be before you slipped out of the room.

Reaching the living room, it was now well past 4 A.M. Simon was lying there, one leg swung over the back of your couch, and eyes locked on the shower. “You okay, Simon?” You checked softly.

“Fine, sweetheart.”

“Don’t look fine to me.” You retorted and sat on the armchair by his head, looking down at him, your hand finding his and caressing it.

He twitched a bit against the pillows, brown eyes fluttering for a moment as he took a deep breath. “Mission went tits up. Strained ourselves trying to finish.”

“You too, then?” You asked him and he nodded. “Where?”

“Everywhere. I’m sore all over… And I think I have a fever.” He admitted.

“Do you wanna try a shower?” You suggested and he shook his head.

“I don’t wanna stand up for that long… I get dizzy.”

“And a bath?” You added.

“…” Simon didn’t answer but he groaned and forced himself to stand up. You helped guide him to the bathroom.

After lowering the stopper and allowing the water to flow into the tub, you looked at Simon. “I’ll be outside, okay? I’ll give you privacy.” You told him softly.

Leaning up, you kissed his pale cheek, and turned away…

Only for him to catch you by the wrist. “Stay.”

“What?” You asked him, unsure you heard him right.

“Stay. Please.” He requested.

“But… you said you didn’t-” You trailed off, the memory of his fear of exposing his body to you (or anyone) clear in your mind.

“I know what I said. Just… Please.” He insisted.

“Okay.” You replied and nodded, stepping forward again. He reached his arms up, painfully slowly, the same way John and Kyle and Johnny had.

You grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly rolled it up, your eyes finding his scar-riddled torso for the first time. Blotchy skin due to chemical burns here and there, big gashes and smaller cuts spread throughout.

Simon was looking away the whole time as you helped him off his cargos and underwear. The injuries continued down his legs, every inch of him nasty and ugly, only due to how brutal his scars were. In reality, it all made no difference to you.

“You okay?” You checked on him. He nodded slowly, his eyes screwed shut.

“Let’s get you into the water, okay? It’ll do you good.” You said as you grabbed him by the bicep and helped get him into a seated position inside the tub.

Then, you knelt by his side just as he was grunting in relief, his muscles relaxing in the water.

The bathtub that had felt tight with you and Johnny in it months ago, now felt even smaller with Simon Riley in it.

Grabbing the sponge, you carefully ran it over his torso and shoulders, wetting the part of him that didn’t fit in the bath.

The blond leaned his head back on the wall and opened his eyes, finding you looking at him.

“Thank you.” Simon told you in a whisper.

“For bathing you?”

“For dating me.” He replied, causing you to smile.

“My, Simon, you might be sicker than I expected. Where’s the confidence?” You teased him good-naturely, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Was never here. Just faking it until I made it…” He admitted and shook his head, letting it lull against the tiles.

“I see, well… It worked.” You joked as you kept wetting his body carefully.

“We’re lucky to have you.” He murmured. “You didn’t have to do this. To put up with us.”

“It’s not putting up if I like you.” You told him. “Besides… you take care of me. I take care of you. Mutually beneficial, that’s what a relationship should be.”

“I don’t take care of you because I like you.” Simon whispered, a drowsy look in his tired eyes.

“Then what for?” You asked him. “Because you want to shag me that bad?” You joked again and winked.

“No… because I love you.” Simon muttered, his lips a bit lazy in the way he said it, clearly too relaxed and tired and groggy to really think straight.

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped open, your hands going limp and dropping the sponge. “Simon…”

“You don’t have to say it back.” He said as he rolled his head against the tile wall, side to side. “Just wanted you to know.”

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

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #141 x reader #simon ghost riley deserves good things #simon ghost riley has a lot of love to give #love confessions

1K notes · View notes

popquizhot-shot · 4 months

Text

Magic

Moon Boys x reader<3

summary: you were married to Jake and after the events of moonknight, the boys get to know of jake and of you. Steven adores you but Marc just sees you as a friend. Right?

A/N: okay the timeline is a bit wonky but here's what i thought while writing the fic. Jake dated you for a year and a half before putting a ring on it. And you've been married for three years. You met Steven and Marc a year ago and have been dating Steven for eight months. Marc became friends with you a month after meeting you. please comment and reblog if you liked it!

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

@jake-g-lockley

Marc was a lot of things. Pig-headed, stubborn, horrible at communication, a fighter. But he wasn't arrogant He could admit it when he didn't know something.

But right now he knew one thing and one thing only, that Jake was a prime idiot.

Marc stayed in the background when Jake was fronting around you, most of the time. Not always, of course. He wasn't a perv and one to to intrude between a husband and a wife. But he knew you. So did Steven, and you knew them.

He'd considered you his friend. Maybe one of his best, just months after meeting you. You and him shared many a night after Jake's missions talking and watching movies, when your husband was knocked out. You made him fall in love with chai, something that knocked Steven's socks off and he'd taught you the basics of baseball so you weren't clueless when you watched baseball with him.

It wasn't always so nice.

"You're married?!"

"Yeah, what's your problem with that?" Jake had become defensive, he wouldn't let Marc or Steven breathe a single ill word towards you.

"No, it's no problem at all, pal." Marc seethed, outraged, "except for the fact that I was married to Layla! God what if she almost say you when we were married? No wonder it ended!"

"Fuck off, man. You know full well why your marriage didn't work out with Layla. And unlike her, I told my lady fucking everything. She knows everything, from the cave to the sarcophagus. So she knew what to do and what to be careful of, including you. So don't blame my marriage for the reason yours didn't work out."

This was when Steven had interjected, he was unsurprisingly on Jake's side.

"He's right, Marc. If his wife knows everything then you can't blame him, and it's honestly rather mean and unfair of you to be angry at someone you haven't even met."

It took a few hours for Marc to calm down, and actually, apologise to Jake.

Hesitantly, Jake offered, "Y'know, if you want you can meet her. She practically knows everything about you and uh, Steven's most probably seen her around. She goes to the museum every week."

"Wait a minute! That lady with the Van Gogh tote bag?"

"Yup."

"Oh wow! She's really sweet, and beautiful! Hell, mate. You scored."

Jake had to smile at that, he knew he scored with you. For the longest time he felt like you were too good for him and that someone as kind, clever, intelligent and beautiful as you shouldn't have had to settle for someone like him. But you'd kiss away every ill thought he had about himself and reassure him. Communication was a very, very vital and important part of the relationship and you had helped him learn that it wasn't selfish to voice his thoughts. Especially because he put everyone's needs before his for so long.

"I know, man."

Steven had readily agreed to front and meet you, and Marc was okay with being co-conscious during the interaction as well. So on one fine day, Jake had brought them to the house he considered his home. He worked to contribute to it's rent, and buy things for it and for you. It was home, after all. You were his home.

Marc didn't know what to expect but when Jake had stepped in and hung his jacket on the stand and taken his shoes off, footsteps could be heard running from the main bedroom and he saw you running straight into Jake's arms. Jake laughed wildly, picking you up and twirling you around, much to your delight as you kissed the life out of him.

When he put you down, he could get a clear glimpse of you. Your hair was messy and your t-shirt was rumpled. And when he saw you smile he knew why Jake had fallen in love with you. Why Steven thought you were beautiful and sweet. Verything about you screamed, home.

Your greeting to Jake threw both the boys off, "Who the fuck are you?"

Jake smirked, "The fuck you mean, ma?"

"I mean, who." you poked him once, "are." twice, "you?" thrice and Jake started giggling. Fucking giggling like some little schoolgirl. You laughed too, and hugged him tight.

"Hey, baby." he kissed your forehead and you smiled.

"Hi." you kissed his nose.

"I have two guys who'd like to meet you."he raised his eyebrows.

Your jaw dropped a little, "For real? Wait, you're being serious, you're not screwing with me?"

"Why would I screw with you, when I could just screw you?"

The men in his head and you all let out a simultaneous groan.

Steven met you first, and it went swell, you'd both bonded over history and literature. And a love for Taylor Swift. But that was a secret. You liked him a lot and he positively adored you.

Marc, on the other hand, was much more closed off, he'd be polite, but he'd be curt as well. A combination you didn't know was possible.

After a few weeks of trying to bond with him, resulting in almost a small meltdown. It had taken Jake being knocked out after a mission and being too tired to eat to actually get him to talk to you over a meal.

It was one of the best things he'd eaten in his goddamn life and the groan he'd let out after the first bite brought a laugh out of you.

So yes, Marc would consider you one of his best friends. Steven and you had started going out with each other a few months ago and it was going so well.

But not Marc.

Because he didn't like you like that.

Of course not, you were his friend.

You were his friend who made him laugh because you had the same dark sense of humour. You hugged him when he needed one but was too uptight to ask you. You, who googled the Cubs and learnt everything you could about them just so you could talk to him as well, the way you talked to Steven about Jane Austen and the Indus Valley.

He didn't know when it became something more to him.

And he didn't see how you'd look him at him when he laughed, or when he was focused on the TV, or when he made you tea the way you liked it, Jake had taught him how to do that.

No, to him, you were just his best friend.

And you were currently crying your eyes out because Jake and you had gotten into a huge fight. He'd missed your anniversary because of a mission and he was working with Hathor's avatar. He failed to mention the part where he was forced to pretend they were a thing to prevent being caught and you'd caught him smelling of her perfume and gotten rightfully furious.

Not because of her, but because he didn't tell you that it had been happening for a few days. That the week he'd spent away from you, he'd had to pretend he was someone else's and he was too scared to tell you. That's why you were mad, because you thought he didn't trust you.

You'd raised your voice as he turned his back on you and he turned around, face contorted in rage. Steven tried calming him down as he stalked over to you. You stood your ground, Jake would never lay a hand on you. You knew that. But it was what he said, that broke you.

"You're being a fucking nuisance. Instead of trying to understand, you're being more of a burden by finding shit to get mad at. Grow the fuck up."

That prime ass had the audacity to call you a burden. A nuisance.

And then he had the fucking nerve to leave and complete his mission and give control to Marc. Steven had chewed the fuck out of him and Marc would have loved to as well, but he needed to see you. See if you were okay.

As soon as he stepped in, he saw you on the sofa, rapidly wiping your tears away. You sagged again when you knew it was him. Somehow you always knew.

He furrowed his eyebrows at your disheveled state. Your eyes were swollen and wet with tears and you were breathing very heavily and in quick spurts.

"What do you need?" Marc asked you, sitting down beside you.

"C-can I have" you coughed, "a hug, Marc?" you said in a small voice, looking away.

Marc immediately moved to hug you close. Shushing you when you began to cry again.

What hurt was that he knew, and Jake knew, and Steven knew that you hated being a burden or an inconvenience to anyone. And today, the one man you trusted the most in this world had made you feel like that. And he couldn't even apologize.

'Jake you fucking idiot.' he rocked you a little, 'you better come out and fix this. she may be our friend but this is because of you, fix this.'

Jake remained silent in the reflection of the mirror next to the door. He looked wrecked at seeing you sob, and tears were falling down his own eyes.

'Mate.' Steven spoke up, he sounded mad, 'You made our girl cry. Stop being a fucking coward and fix this!'

When he was met with silence, Steven seethed, 'Marc, gimme the body.'

You knew exactly when it was Steven hugging you, and you kissed his cheek and breathed him in.

"Oh, love." he tried to comfort you, "I'm sorry. You're not a burden, I promise you." he kissed your forehead.

"I know that, Steven. I know I'm not a burden to you. I'm scared I'm becoming one to him. He doesn't even want to look at me!" you sniffed.

Steven glared at Jake in the mirror, who was wiping away his own tears.

Steven and Marc knew why Jake was so worked up. They knew that whoever Jake and Hathor's avatar was after called their bluff. They knew that those people had found the woman's partner and Jake was terrified for you and he couldn't even tell you because he never, ever wanted to be the reason for any feeling you had that wasn't bliss, happiness, content, or pleasure. And because he was sure he could find those assholes and beat the living shit out of them for even thinking of harming you.

But it wasn't their place to tell you, that much was apparent. Jake dug his grave, and then jumped into it. He had to crawl out of it on his own now.

"I just want to be someone he's happy to be with." you whisper and that's when Jake straightened up, heartbroken.

"Give me the body, hermano."

"All yours."

Only Jake scrunched the back of your shirts when he hugged you and you moved to hug him tightly as he whispered apologies in your ear.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry I made you feel like you were a burden and that I was anything but fucking delighted to be with you." he kissed your nose and then told you everything. Looking away because he was scared.

"I didn't tell you at first because I didn't want to just say that I had to pretend I was dating someone else and then fuck off for a week. I made a mistake in assuming that'd you get mad and it's because if I was in your place, I would be. But you're stronger than me, tesoro, and I failed to see that and I'm so sorry."

"Baby, I forgive you." you replied and he breathed out a sigh of relief, "But please, don't keep stuff like this in, okay? You can trust me, you know that."

He nodded fiercely and then he kissed you. Noses nudging and lips parting as he breathed you in like you were his lifeline, and he yours. He cupped your face and held you tight against him and when he pulled away you smiled at him, your eyes shining.

Steven fronted again with a little smile and you kissed him lovingly with a whispered 'i love you'. He just winked at you and kissed the back of your hand and then your forehead again before Jake took back control and carried you to the bed, kissing you deeply all the way.

----

Marc was fine, no he just needed a glass of water. He'd carefully rolled off the bed, thankful that he was at least wearing sweatpants and padded to the kitchen.

He should have known that you were a light sleeper.

"Marc." you began, your voice raspy.

He hummed in reply and held out his glass to you. You accepted it and drank your fill, giving it back to him.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke up, "I thanked Steven for comforting me. But I didn't thank you." you cleared your throat, "Thank you, Marc." you said, sincerely, "You're one of my best friends."

Marc smiled at you. Actually smiled. And you smiled back and kept going, "And Jake and Steven know this and are okay with it so I-"

"You don't have to thank me, honey." he patted your shoulder, trying to conceal his tears as he looked away because god he was dumb. Dumb enough to realize now, that he loved you, "I'm glad I'm your friend."

To him, you were everything. You were sunrays and moonbeams and everything that he believed was magical as a boy. Everything he stopped believing in as he grew up. The first time you made him laugh and joined him he felt sure that magic existed after all, because what else could you be?

He tried walking past you but you held his hand and he froze, tears streaming down his cheeks.

You walked over to him and held his face in your hands. His eyes shut as you wipe away his tears. And he whimpered as you kissed his forehead.

"Marc. Open your eyes and look at me." you said softly.

He was terrified. That you'd seen past his mask and were going to let him down gently. Because to you, what could he be? Certainly nothing more than a friend.

"Sweetheart. Please."

When his eyes finally opened, they met yours.

"Marc. I fucking love you." you confessed and he let out a sob. Pulling you into a tight hug.

"I love you. God I love you so much, Sweetheart." he says into your hair, kissing all over your face, but not your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" you asked him, looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

He nods and your hands travel to his locks and pull them lightly as you bring your lips to his own. Humming sweetly as he wraps his arm around you and licks into you.

Yes, he reasons yet again as you hold his face in your hands and smile at him, magic does exist. And it's in his arms. He loves it and so do the men in his head who cheer for him, albeit sleepily, looking at you lovingly.

And they'd never let you go.

#jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #jake lockley angst #marc spector angst #moon knight angst #moon knight #marvel cinematic universe #oscar isaac x reader

1K notes · View notes

chaoticace2005 · 2 months

Text

Reasons the Mothman should die, collectively written by the residents of the Hazbin Hotel:

Coding for Characters: Vaggie, Charlie, Pentious, Alastor, Niffty, Husk, pretty much everyone

TW: References to abuse

He’s holding back Angel’s progress. (Vaggie, is killing really necessary?) (I am concerned about going after a Vee)

I’m hungry (ALASTOR!)

Ms. Angel gets nervous when on the phone with him.

His coat is tacky.

He’s a bug! And bugs must be DESTROYED!

So Angel stops feeling like he has to be so damn fake. This is getting on my fucking nerves.

HE LICKED CHARLIE!!! (Vaggie, wait it’s okay.)

Color scheme sucks. Purple AND red?!

He makes Angel sad, NOBODY should make Angel sad.

Those obnoxious glasses just make him look stupid.

He’s a manipulative, abusive prick.

ANGEL DIDN'T KNOW BOUNDARIES WERE A THING?!?!?!?!?!? (Honestly that explains a lot.)

NOBODY deserves to be in an abusive relationship.

Too many arms. Nobody needs that many. (...Angel has that many?) (Well maybe he shouldn't.)

Ms. Angel keeps coming home all messy!!

He’s ruining hearts for everyone. Me and Angel already have enough. At least those are on our bodies, what’s his excuse?

Hearts should not even be ASSOCIATED with Valentino, THIS IS NOT LOVE.

I can do without all the sexual depravity. While I am in Hell this is NOT one of the reasons.

If I have to hear that ringtone one more damn time-

The Eggies found some of his films. They should never be exposed to such horrors. Now I have to explain what “a sex” is.

Makes picture shows that are a disgrace to the idea of “entertainment.”

He’s making a bad name for Uncle Ozzie. This is NOT “lust.”

So we don’t have to listen to another one of Angel’s pornos. (Agreed, it’s quite horrifying!!)

So Ms. Angel isn’t tired when she gets home and can save the kinky stuff for then :) (Niff, really?)

So the kid stops coming home with bruises and cuts that I fix up at 3 am. (Husk, what the fuck?)

Because what the FUCK Valentino?

He keeps forcing Angel to do drugs. (HE WHAT?! Like crack??) (That but also I’m pretty sure whatever comes out of him is an aphrodisiac.)

I want to use his antenna as a backscratcher

Has that whole red color thing going on. Only I am allowed to wear red :) (Al, your text isn’t even red.) (My what?)

What is up with his red spit and smoke? Seriously disgusting.

The red stuff from him may be what allows Velvette to create her “Love Potions” which funds Vax’s stupid endeavors (Do you mean Vox?) (Who?)

FOR MY COLLECTION :D (…yeah okay.)

Really is making a bad name for Overlords. And not in the fun way.

Angel’s shown trauma signs of abuse in our meetings. Im pretty sure it’s Valentino.

Make a doll out of his fur so I have a main villain for roach puppet shows!!!

His only purpose is to keep Veks occupied but considering Vixen’s inane attempts to catch my attention it isn’t working.

So Angel can have his soul and he and Husk can run off into the sunset together like in a fanfiction!!! (Ah, yes that would be nice.) (WE WHAT?!) (Oh Husker, denial doesn’t suit you.)

So Angel can get a good boyfriend THAT’S NOT ME to stop these bullshit allegations.

So Angel can admit his feelings to Husker because our cat surely isn’t going to be the first to do it. (ALASTOR I SWEAR TO GOD!)

Who knows how many other people he’s abusing.

Seems to give Vicks confidence. He has enough of that as is. It much more fun to destroy him.

He makes Angel sad which makes Cherri sad!

HE HIT ANGEL!!!

Called my dear Rosie an "old hag" NOBODY CALLS ROSIE AN OLD HAG.

Angel is a good friend and deserves so much better.

I’ve forgotten what moths taste like.

He keeps trying to get Angel to move out :(

Told the kid he had to lose weight. What the actual FUCK. (Ill kill him.)

He’s annoying and looks quite stupid. How has this not been added yet?!

He’s making a bad name for Spanish speakers everywhere. (Yeah it’s embarrassing.) (Wait… what?)

He’s making a bad name for pansexuals everywhere.

He’s making a bad name for wing-holders everywhere. (HE HAS FUCKING WINGS?!) (Oh, yeah, I didn’t tell you?)

Too tall. This is ridiculous.

Won’t admit he’s blind so he’s become even more of a public safety hazard.

If I get one more transmission of him and Box commiting lascivious acts someone will be eaten. I don’t care who. What the purpose of these are I don’t know. Advertisement? (I think it’s to make you jealous boss.) (Ha! Jealous of what? Mediocre sex with a pathetic excuse for a businessman with a TV as a head?)

Because Angel deserves fucking better.

908 notes · View notes

cookingmamatwo-dinnerwithfriends · 8 months

Text

tough crowd… || theodore nott x reader

a/n: this is short but i LIKE IT

theodore nott never really thought that he would ever be in a serious relationship. he assumed that, given his family's reputation, people would avoid him like the plague and he would be arranged to marry a pure-blood witch. he had resigned himself to this all the way back in fourth year, when he found himself at the yule ball with no date. he was okay with being alone. all he really needed were his friends.

but ever since he saw (y/n) in the courtyard that day he's found himself changing. he used to ignore the lovey-dovey couples around school that were glued to the hip, sucking faces in the hallway. but now, seeing them made his stomach churn, not only from disgust, but because he wanted a relationship like that. but maybe minus the nauseating amount of PDA.

theodore talked to (y/n) every day in potions, and he found himself wishing that his double potions class was longer. just so he could get more time to spend with her. they were growing closer, now friends rather than acquaintances.

one day in class, after lots of stolen glances, giggling, and no-so-discreet flirting, malfoy lost it.

"canyoutwojustgoonadatealready?" draco raised his voice, losing it after theo asked to compare hand sizes with her (PFFFFF im getting the ick).

both theo and (y/n) stared at him with red faces, shuffling away from each other and looking down at their respective cauldrons. people at the tables near the group looked over in mild interest.

theo wasn't sure how to recover from this, but before he could spiral, a piece of parchment was slid in front of him. it was a cartoon at someone pulling at their collar nervously (ya know? i physically cannot insert a gif i think ill melt). he smiled down at the paper and then back up at the girl who was side-eyeing him. she then turned to face him fully and offered an apologetic smile for the interaction.

as much as theo hated to admit this, draco might have just given him the perfect opportunity. after class, he put on his coolest persona, leaned against the potions station and looked down at the girl.

"maybe we should go on a date..." theo said, analyzing her face for any kind of reaction. "would you...like to?" oh no the facade is slipping, don't let her see you weak theodore.

"yeah, yes, i mean..." she trailed off, closed her eyes and then opened them again, facing him, "yes, i would."

"we could go to hogsmeade this weekend..." he looked into her eyes hopefully, but trying to seem cool.

"that sounds great," she said, her grin widening, "i'll see you then." she went to walk away, but then turned around slowly and said, "i'll also see you tomorrow because-"

"yeah we have-"

"-we have potions..."

"-potions. yeah..."

"...yeah. okay, bye!"

DUDE I THOUGHT I COULDNT WRITE A PART 3 BUT I REALLY LIKE THIS ill write the date soon HAHHAHAHAHAH

#theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #harry potter x reader #harry potter #theodore nott imagines #theo nott imagines

910 notes · View notes

adventuringblind · 3 months

Text

Rest

Norlestappen X Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: Reader is struggling badly with a flair up but doesn't want to admit it.

Warnings: unspecified chronic illness, collapsing in exhaustion, worried boyfriends

Notes: another Nonny request!! Love this one so much! (Comments feed my praise kink and give me motivation to write... if anyone was wondering...)

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The heat had been driving her insane. Qatar is a nightmare. It's so humid that it's difficult to breathe.

Her body despises the heat. It pulls every ounce of energy from her system. Make the pain soar to ungodly levels.

But she's not the one racing.

Max, Lando, and Charles are the ones racing. It's not fair to them that she needs their help when they have to endure whatever hell this is in a death machine for two hours.

She forces her mask back on and pretends she's fine despite her protesting body.

She checks on Charles first. Max and Lando are on the podium, so it gives her some time to see that he's alright.

Which, truth be told - he doesn't look. He's drenched in sweat mixed with cold water. He's panting and trying to peel off his fireproofs.

"Charlie? Are you okay?" She peeks her around the corner, and he shakes his head no.

She helps him get out of the drenched clothing and into a shower. Her phone buzzes violently in her pocket as Charles steps out. She kisses his cheek and dips out to see Lando, the culprit of calling her non-stop.

She drags her body to McLaren. Aching bones won't give her any reprieve as she walks. The heat is unbearable, smothering her mind in a deep fog she can't escape.

The McLaren staff barely bat an eye in her direction. Most give her pitiful looks, probably whispering about how she looks like a zombie.

She'll rest later. Her boys need her right now.

She taps Lando's door with her knuckles. He looks bright-eyed when she opens it. Smells of champagne sweat nearly knock her over. She has to bite back a gag.

Instead, she returns his smile and throws herself at him. "I'm proud of you!"

"Was a good race, wasn't it? A but jealous of Osc and proud at the same time."

She hums and closes the door behind her. Immediately going back to draping herself over the Brit. Effectively using him to help keep her upright.

"Are you alright, love? You look a bit out of it..."

"I'm fine, Lan, just been a long day, is all. Had a lot of cheering to do, you know!"

Lando manages to run around the small room, tugging off his wet clothes, rinsing his hair, and throwing on his team kit.

She grabs something to style his hair with, Lando will be in shambles later if he sees his hair looking wrecked.

She swears they both almost fall asleep to the repetitive movments. A small intimate thing shared between the two of them.

A much louder knock then her earlier one hits their ears, startling the two out of whatever trance they’re in. “Lando! You’ve got interviews to do!”

The Brit groans in disappointment, but gets up regardless. “Thank you, love.” He leans down to where she is still sitting and kisses her forehead. “Will you be alright?”

“I’m going to see Max next, I already saw Charlie.” She throws him a reassuring look. “I’ll be okay, promise.” She even holds out her pinky finger for him to wrap his own around.

That promise, however, is getting harder and harder to keep as she drags her weary bones to Max. Her body is screaming at her to stop moving, find somewhere to sleep for a couple of years before it goes back to making life difficult.

She shakes her head. No, she wasn’t the one driving in the hell today. She can wait until her partners are squared away.

Max greets her outside of the energy station. His face drops when he sees her. Her smile, although genuinely happy, is lopsided. Even the muscles that show her happiness are tired. That should be a red flag, but she continues forward.

Her and Max make their way to his drivers room. His arm wrapped around her waist in much ended comfort and support. She hopes he hasn’t caught on to the way she’s leaning into him to keep herself up.

they flop onto the couch together. “Lando told me you were on your way. He’s a bit worried about you.”

“I told him I’m alright, I promise. The heat is just difficult.”

“Tell me about it.” Max rolls his eyes.

Max’s presence and her comfortable position on the couch do nothing to help her fatigue. The drowsiness is slowly taking hold and she’s not sure how long she can hold it off for.

“You can sleep now, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She hadn’t even noticed she was asleep, slumped against Max’s body. Not until she cracks her eyes open and sees her lovers laying spread out across the room.

Ice packs are strewn across their bodies. Lando is drooling on Charles’ chest, Max has a hand dangling of the side of the sofa that looks like it was previously in charles’ hair, and Charles is sleeping with his body sitting upright.

She wants to giggle at the sight. They all look comfortable despite the chaotic positioning.

Her body moves on its own accord. the ice packs should be refrozen and she might be able to get her hands on some new ones while she’s at it.

She gets nowhere as Max’s arm wraps around her, pulling her back down on top of him. Lando and Charles stir awake from all the movement.

“Nice try, but you’re not going anywhere.”

She pouts at Max. “But I’m fine now. Just needed a nap, is all.”

Charles turns enough so that both him and Lando are able to see her, even if it’s not well. “The circles under your eyes say otherwise.’ He reaches up to hold her hand. “Thank you for taking care of us, but now it’s your turn.”

She would probably be crying s she had the energy to. The compassion they all have for her, even when she lacks it herself. It’s overwhelming at times. especially when she feels undeserving, like she hasn’t earned it.

Lando shimmies his way out of Charles’ hold and fixes himself. His arm coming up to wipe away the trail of drool. “Now that we’re all awake, I’ve tasked Oscar with bringing us popsicles, anybody want ‘em?”

A course of happy cheers fills the room at the mention of a cold treat.

Her smile doesn’t feel tired this time.

413 notes · View notes

benedictscanvas · 4 months

Text

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes.

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso x reader

579 notes · View notes

nyx-is-missing · 4 months

Note

hello! Can you write a Clarisse La Rue x reader where they met before Clarisse got sent to camp halfblood when they were little and were best friends then Clarisse left for camp with no explanation then years later reader goes to camp and sees Clarisse for the first time in years and it’s kinda awkward but cute

thanks :)

This is kinda long sooorrry, to help, the part where she gets to camp (kinda) will be in green

Girls on film 📷

Clarrise la rue x fem!reader

Warnings and explanations: bad words (take the kids out of the living room she swears) gender is specified cause it was written as wlw, but it doenst actually makes a diference, fluff, like two sentences, there is a kiss in the picture but they dont actually kiss sorry.

Unspecified parent gender for both sides so yall can pick wichever

Trying not to kill myself.

That was what i was doing 15 hours ago, just as any normal teenagers living (or as i prefer saying fighting for the soul to stay on the body) during finals week.

In my room there was nothing but piles and piles of normal work, piles for extra credit, piles of old quizzes to try to get me prepared for the new ones and a dumb incomplete project for photography class that was due tomorrow.

Okay ill admit, i had a month to make that, and all i needed to do was shoot pictures, but that was the problem, i prefer taking pictures of people, their emotions, whatever they might be, just never ceases to amaze me.

And my dumb project made take pictures of....landscapes.

Not too bad, if i had any actual real talent for that type of photography, but i dont, every picture gets ruined somehow, its the lightning, the lack of it, my camera falls, gets full of dirt and i get so mad that i just give up.

That whole speach was necessary for me to explain what i was doing 14 hours ago, and that would explain what i was doing 5 minutes ago.

14 hours ago i decided to shoot the photos, i could try many times before it got dark, and if o was lucky enough i wouldnt go insane before the golden hour, and could actually get some nice pictures.

I grabbed my totte bag taking with me only the necessary, camera stuff, the camera, some snacks and my notebook to upload the pictures before i went mad.

13 hours ago i was running to save my life.

And do you know that moment went you go through so much your mind decides to erase it?

That happened, now, what i do remember, i was sitting in a bench by a calm road not too far from the town, i had got some actually good pictures, some of me, some of the trees, some of a butterfly, maybe three cars had passed by since i was there, driving slowly, always saying hi and doing a thumbs up, normal, friendly people from the town.

And then i heard a noise that shook the trees.

I remember seeing something, but never what, i remember running to home as fast as i could, feeling my heartbeats in my neck, i remember the noise, but the people in the streets looked at me like there was nothing behind me and i went crazy

I remember getting home, having a desperate talk with my parent while they got my suiticase ready, and i dont remember a single word.

I remember a funny looking guy my age that got to my house, with goat legs and a more desperate look, and i remember one last hug before i left.

And thats all, aside from a hell of a lot of running nobody cares.

Aparently i passed out from shock or exaustion because i woke up in a unknown place, at night, in a hospital bed, with no actual doctors other than 15 year olds teenagers.

And a horseman standing in the corner, with quite a intelectual look actually.

And let me tell you guys that after the talk we had, if somebody told me i would marry queen Elizabeth within 4 days, i would just belived it.

Because nothing ever in my life would ACTUALLY beat up the level of crazyness of finding out i DO have another parent, they are just, A FUCKING GOD. GREEK. GODS. AH.

Then, after telling me my whole life was in fact, a big fat lie, the horseman... left.

Telling me i should sleep in the infirmary this night for precaution and that he was going to get me to a cabin tomorrow.

Like that was the most normal thing to ever happen to a human, he said goodnight and left.

While i sat there just trying to...basically form a sentence that wasnt "for fucks sake what the fuck was that"

I would have loved to say that i did slept that night, dreaming about glory and greek myths but that did not happened, at all.

I walked around the infirmary for hours, opening every cabinet and trying to make my mind to something, i searched for my stuff, and thankfully found my camera, with some pictures i hadnt noticed i had taken, one specific had a blurred thing in the forest.

When the first rays of sunlight appeared i got dressed, and decided that, in order to prove to myself (and probably to the mental hospital afterwards) i was not insane, i needed proof that i was actually living, actually there, being a demigodess, thats what they called.

Very few people were up already, and i did received some weird looks, it was clear nobody knew me, that was fine, i didnt knew anybody either.

I walked around taking some pictures, sometimes getting lost, but everything amazed me, the forest, the cabins, the stables, i found the entrance to a beach too, and then i got to the training area, aparently, i stayed far away, god forbid i woke up from this nightmare with a spear in my head, oh no, that would be bad.

Openning my camera i zoomed in the people, my speciality, it was sweet, seeing them trully smile, and not pretend for the picture, it was a genuine feeling the camera would keep forever, i zoomed around other peoples faces, but my camera focused on a face i could never forget, and she looked back at me, and realized i was there, but not that i was me, because she came towards me with a angry look.

Ill admit, the look scared me as hell, so much i tried to pretend i was never taking pictures of her, i slightly changed the angle and kept my face hidden behind the camera.

Do i need to say that did not fucking worked? No? Thank you.

"Who the fuck do you think you are taking random pictures of pe-"

She yanked my camera off of me mid sentence and stopped completely, looking like she had seen a ghost for some seconds.

"(Y/n)?"

"Clari?"

"How- what are you doing here!?"

She asked, with a worried look, still kind of confused, she did this look since we were little girls, and for a moment i had a big deja vu.

Two little girls running around, playing all day, telling each other secrets and stories, running to hug each other eveytime they were close, i still saw that girl in her eyes, but by her previous look, she did not.

"What am i doing here? What are YOU doing here? One day you dissapear without a trace, and your family said you went to a new school even though it was the summer, and now i find you sparring with a spear? You are that too? A demigoddes, i mean?"

I spoke fast, nervous, as if my time in the world with her would end just as it did once.

Instead of responding me right away, clarisse did something that maybe would scare every single soul she knew in the past years.

She hugged me. Hard.

Breathing me in, and not letting me go exactly as you would expect of someone who hasnt seen me in years.

"I couldnt tell you anything... it wouldnt be safe...im sorry, i missed my friend... i missed you."

I just looked at her for some seconds, and then hugged her again, this time i was the one making it extra tight, i was the one going insane by the reconforting smell of her shampoo, praying that she couldnt feel my heartbeats against her chest, and how strong they were.

"Just.. dont leave me again okay? And ill forgive you, i promisse"

#fanfic #lesbian #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #clarisse la rue

420 notes · View notes

secretwritingspot · 5 months

Text

Too Much (Take Me Home)

Pairing: OPLA Sanji x Reader

Rating/Content Warnings: okay so I have no idea how to rate this. Like this is definitely not PG but it's also not really nsfw?? Honestly I'd recommend just reading the summary and deciding for yourself from there.

Summary: Reader is a sub who, due to the nature of y'know like being on a pirate ship constantly has not had a single chance to relax in weeks, especially since they don't really know any of their crewmates like that. Sanji steps in to save the day.

Disclaimer(s): so funny story - this is the single kinkiest thing I've written for this blog. And yet. It is also the least sexual thing I've written for this blog, that being not sexual at all. This is purely mentally-ill wish fulfillment emotional hurt-comfort d/s fluff. None of those words are in the bible but we persist nonetheless. A lot of d/s themes but like soft d/s if that makes sense, undernegotiated kink (there's definitely communication and it's p healthy but they're both idiots your honor), some petplay if you squint? Like not really but reader is on their knees and he calls them puppy a few times so do with that what you will.

There's a surprising amount of paperwork that comes with being the ship's chef.

One would think Sanji was always on his feet, whipping up something new- and yet here he is, late at night, sitting at a table that feels nautical miles away from where he really wants to be, the galley. But this was a part of the job- to catalogue ingredients, new recipes, what he could make and on what day for their supplies to last until the next town.

He's used to it being a solitary job, but then there's footsteps and a knock at the doorframe of his room and you walk in, shy uncertainty in your voice.

"...Sanji?"

You weren't sure about this, about any of this. But you were exhausted in a way that sleep couldn't fix, and it was obvious to you as to why.

You were a sub. There, you admitted it, got that embarrassing information out of the way as quickly as possible.

You - strong, strategic, stoic you - had been spinning out for the last few days. It had been too long since you'd been able to go under, since you'd joined the strawhats, to be precise, and it was starting to wear on you.

There was only so long you could go like this, tough and detached, protecting everyone else, taking care of the rest of your crew before yourself. It was constant, on the Merry. You really should've seen that coming with it being a pirate ship and all, but you felt like you had no room to breathe. Wake up, save the day, plan, eat and sleep only to keep your energy up to do it again the next day. You were always on, always performing the most capable version of yourself, and it was starting to wear you thin.

Sanji, for all his care and attention, hadn't seemed to notice. Even now, when you'd come to him like this. For that, a part of you was thankful.

He can't even hope to hide the way his face lights up when you walk in, quickly grabbing a towel next to him and wiping off his hands on instinct, like there should be oil or cooking wine or flour on them. There isn't, but other times there is. And there will be again, eventually. Better safe than sorry, he supposes.

"What could possibly bring such an angel down to me so late?"

He questions with a charming smile, cocking his head at you fondly. You roll your eyes at his immediate antics, blushing.

"Ah. Straight to business, huh?"

You laugh nervously, looking away and scratching the back of your neck with a sheepish blush.

"...can I stay with you? While you work?"

He squints at you curiously and then nods, smile blooming on his face the way it always does when you're around. For such a simple request, he doesn't know why you look so embarrassed.

Sure, the signs of embarrassment aren't as obvious on someone like you- but he can still see them. The way your eyes avoid his, the slight awkwardness in your stance as you shift on your feet.

"Of course, love. I'd never turn down your wonderful company."

You take a relieved breath and nod, looking down. For a moment you stand still, trying to make your feet move. Is this really such a good idea?

You take the leap before you can second guess yourself, walking over to where he sits at the desk. You pass the other seats and he squints curiously, having expected you to take one. Instead, you come straight to his, sinking down to your knees next to him and sitting back on your heels, resting your head on the side of his thigh.

Oh.

Oh, wow.

His eyes widen when you settle on the floor next to him, his face a pink hue as he looks down at you. Still, he didn't move. Instead, he gently brushes some of your hair back, looking at you with confusion.

"Are you...what are you doing, love?"

You swallow thickly, blinking your eyes back open to look up at him pleadingly, face pink.

"...can I stay here? I- I'll explain if you want, I promise, just...please."

He chuckles, an intrigued little smile gracing his features as he looks down at you nods. "Go ahead, explain. You can stay here as long as you'd like, darling."

"I need..."

You start to speak before backing up your explanation, embarrassment showing in the way your speech jumps back and forth between thoughts.

"I've been exhausted, recently. I'm sleeping fine, I just...sometimes I need to- to relax a certain, uh- a certain way. And since we've been on the ship, I haven't been able to, uh..."

You squeeze your eyes shut with embarrassment, taking a deep breath and turning to press your face against his thigh to hide your blush.

"...subspace. I'm- I'm a sub. And I haven't been able to go into subspace for a while, and I know this is a lot to ask you and I'm sorry, I just- I need to be like this for a while, please."

Immediately, your behavior starts to make sense. It would be hard to be a sub on a crew like this, constantly having to fight and stay in control. You likely haven't had the chance to submit to anyone in ages, if only for safety reasons. After all, you're all wanted. But with the natural way you dropped to your knees below him, put your head on his thigh like second nature, it all clicks.

He looks at you for a moment and blinks, his expression unreadable.

"...I think I understand what you mean. You want to be good for me, yes? I don't mind that, you know. You're quite pretty like this." He gently drags the back of his hand across your face with a smile before adding, almost as an afterthought, "Sweet thing."

You shiver at his words and nod in confirmation, letting your head fall back to the side to rest against his thigh.

This is...it's the last thing he'd expect from you, really. You're so tough and capable and independent, so the fact that you're a sub? The more he thinks about it the more it makes him blush- that someone like you was even capable of submitting, let alone craved it, let alone again would come to him, pleading for him to let you kneel at his feet for a while as he works. He gently runs a hand along your back, the corner of his mouth twitching as he smirks.

"I want you to stay like this until you're satisfied, alright darling?" He smiles and takes a look back at the paperwork on the table "...Are you comfortable there?"

You nod, heart fluttering when he says he wants you to stay like this until you feel better. It's sweet and gentle and so very Sanji, but at the same time, it sounds almost like an instruction. Like a command. It makes your cheeks flush and your mind stop whirring for a second in a way you'd missed so badly from when friends or partners who knew about your submissiveness back on land would put you under. The comfort of not having to think of anything besides doing what you're told- being good, always being good. You'd missed this.

"I need you to relax for me, okay? Just...focus on enjoying yourself, yeah? I have to get this work done, so I'm counting on you to stay right here. Can you do that for me?"

You nod almost immediately and he grins at the obedience, going back to his work with a satisfaction mirrored in you.

Something to do. A task. Something to be good at, good enough to make him proud. It settles your mind as you lean your head against him, the slight twinge of pain from kneeling on the wooden floor grounding you pleasantly.

He could get used to this, he thinks- you sitting at his feet next to him like a puppy, one of his hands scratching through your hair absentmindedly as he works through his paperwork and supply numbers. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as he works, the sound of parchment paper a pleasant constant. Your breathing was also rather soothing, a nice background to his quiet humming as he writes. He feels as though he could listen to it all night and never grow tired of it.

He makes a mental note of how each different touch effects you- cataloging your reactions, what you like, what seems to make your mind dissolve. He finds a particular sweet spot behind your ears that leaves you a shivering puddle when he scratches softly with his nails, a spot at the crown of your head that makes you purr, that any light touch closer to your neck provokes a wobbly, ticklish smile but that you don't make any move to stop him. You seem completely zoned out, dazed and pliant and warm under his fingers.

A minute passes like that, then five, then ten. He looks back down to check on you and feels his heart stall in his chest.

"Oh, darling..." He whispers softly, blushing at the sight of you. Hazy and dazed with near-reverence in your eyes. He stops writing, setting down the pen and reaching down to lift your chin up, looking you directly in the eyes.

"Look at me. Please."

You perch your chin on his thigh obediently to look up at him from your position on the floor. It's the most relaxed he's ever seen you- shoulders dropped like a tremendous weight's been lifted from you, limbs like lead as doe eyes blink up at him blearily, expression glazed-over and vulnerable and soft, softer than he thought you were capable of.

You were a tremendous warrior, someone feared across the seas, and yet your head was on his thigh, sitting at his feet below him.

You, who could kill him in a fraction of a second if you wanted.

He sighs, a little breathless. He's so tempted to lean down and kiss you, but he shakes his head slowly. Not now, not yet. There's something else he needs to do first.

His hand runs through your hair as he looks into your eyes almost like a nurse would with a concussed patient, checking up on you to make sure you're okay.

"Can you speak? It doesn't have to be a lot, just...say something for me, love."

"C'n speak."

You answer softly, obedient nearly to a fault, your usually confident voice gone soft and mumbly. It's perfect. Christ, all of it is perfect.

"'verything's just kinda...fuzzy right now. 's okay, it's nice."

His eyes are glued to you as his hand gently runs through your hair, scratching behind your ear. There's something on his mind, something he can't quite place or figure out yet.

"You look so beautiful right now." He admits gently, his voice still a low whisper. "Can you tell me why- why you're like this?"

Well, wasn't that a hell of a question? Why are you - always that emphasis in your head, though he doesn't mean it like that - of all people, why are you?

A few moments pass before you say anything. You don't really know what you would say, not until it's already coming out of your mouth.

"...cause 'm not allowed to be."

It's the only answer you can think of when you can finally convince yourself to speak.

"I- I have to know everything. All the time. Be in charge and make the tough decisions and stay on top of everything and make sure everyone's okay-"

The words come slowly at first, but the longer you speak the quicker they spill out, rambling like it's something that's been festering for weeks that you desperately need to get off your chest.

You cut yourself off with a deep breath when you realize the breakneck speed with which you're ranting, simplifying your answer down to it's most basic terms.

"...I don't get to be weak."

He can't help but feel his breath catch at that reply. "I don't get to", like it's something you want but aren't allowed. He can so easily see that side of you now that you mentioned it, but he'd always just ignored it. It seemed inconsequential. Like that part just...wasn't you.

It strikes him then that that was probably on purpose, on your part. You wanted them to disregard it.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he recontectualizes all your stress, all the moments of you snapping at the crew over little slights, the more curious he gets as to how and why you got to be like this in the first place.

"There isn't anything weak about this." he pushes back sternly as soon as he can get his voice to work. "This is...this is the most courageous thing I could imagine. I'm so proud of you."

The words hit you like a brick and you close your eyes, taking a shaky breath as they play on repeat in your head.

"I'm so proud of you."

You can feel yourself crumbling at his affection, the voracity of his care. How adamant he is about understanding that sometimes you just needed to be below someone else.

He cups your cheek in his hand softly, angling your face to look up at him. The more you let your guard down, the warmer his chest feels looking at you. He'd never seen you open up this much, it makes his heart ache. He smiles at the sight of you looking up at him so prettily, lightly tapping the tip of your nose.

"...there you are."

The words are barely a whisper, full of pride and admiration and pleasant disbelief. It's a shame how much you try to prove your strength, your resilience when there isn't a reason for it.

You'd always been enough for him. Always been strong enough, tough enough, useful enough. Always, always, always.

You'd never needed to be anything more than who you were, and getting to see you like this...it's like he's seeing you for the first time all over again.

"It's an honor to finally meet you."

All you can manage is a soft huff of breath, his words knocking the breath from your lungs. It's almost a sob, except that there are no tears. You have no idea why. Or why you almost sobbed in the first place. Why are there no tears?

"It's an honor to finally meet you."

The words cut through you like water. He still wants you? Even like this- emotionally stunted, a needy mess, pathetic and fragile and shaking?

"The way you are right now is nothing short of beautiful. Everything about you is lovely. It's...it isn't easy letting go like this, is it?" He muses, a hand resting on your hair, his thumb running along your face.

You sniffle quietly and blink back tears, nodding your head. It's progress even getting you to agree.

He knows you aren't upset by his words and so your unshed tears don't bother him. Knows that you aren't used to this, aren't going to be good at believing or accepting it immediately. He knows it'll take time to get to a place where words like that don't phase you anymore. So for now, your agreement is more than enough.

"...can we stay here for a while? Please?"

You break through his train of thought with a cautious whisper, voice small. A surge of pride shoots through him at your words, so fucking proud. If agreeing with his words is difficult, asking for what you want is worse. It's a hell of a first step.

"Of course we can. How long do you want to be like this, sweetheart?"

Ah. And there's the problem, isn't it? The "what do you want?" Really and truly, you have no idea.

"I don't mind much, it's..."

You trail off softly, hiding your face against his thigh in embarrassment as your blush spreads to the tips of your ears.

"...'s however long you want me to stay. It...it helps, letting you decide things for me."

The admission is a shy one, but it's not like it's something he couldn't've seen coming. It makes sense that instructions and praise would go hand in hand to make someone like you feel safe, small, protected.

"...I don't want you to move, okay?" He finally decides, lifting his hand from your hair to brush it behind your ear, fingernails scratching gently.

"Just let me take care of you for a while."

You take a deep breath at his words like the air's cleared for the first time in decades, finally having something to ground yourself on.

He makes a note of that in his head, too- you like a sense of order, when he makes decisions for you or gives you instructions to follow. Something simple that you can focus on even in your dazed, vulnerable state of mind, a task you can accomplish.

His hand continues to run through your hair gently, thumb making little figure 8's at the crown of your head.

"Do you want me to hold you? Or do you prefer being on your knees?"

He doesn't look at you when he asks, pen scratching away at his charts with his eyes on the table. Somehow, that helps- the idea that he's still working, that you're not too inconvenient of a distraction.

The simple choice you're given between two options makes everything feel easy and calm and hazy, and your voice is quiet when you answer.

"On- on my knees. Makes me feel more- more..."

You trail off, trying to explain but unable to find the words.

"More vulnerable." He finishes for you, smiling as it finally clicks. A position of submission, giving up your power to him.

Undoubtably, you're more vulnerable on your knees. You'd typically never let anyone near you in this state, not since you joined the strawhats, but with him, it feels...safe.

"I like it too." He admits, his hand still on you as his voice slowly trails off.

Your features smooth out in relief at his understanding and you nod, leaning into him and nuzzling his thigh for a moment to show your appreciation.

He has to look away for a moment, as seeing you nuzzle against him triggers an almost visceral reaction he wasn't expecting. His face flushes a bit more, a small smile brightening face as he leans in his chair, his expression adoring as he looks down at you. He reaches out for your ear, scratching gently at it with his fingernail.

You're so soft like this he swears he might fall in love.

"...can we do this more often, when you want to relax?"

Your eyes widen with a surprised blush at all the question as your brain shorts out for a moment.

He really...he's really willing to make this a regular thing? He isn't just doing this to humor you? It seems almost impossible to believe that this isn't some kind of weird burden you'd pushed onto him.

"...yeah. I'd- 'd like that."

You mumble breathlessly, clearing your throat as you look down.

He's already looking for another command, a simple task he can praise you for. Something about telling you what to do - you, who could slit his throat in an instant - he's quickly figuring out that he likes it. Quite a bit, actually.

He thinks back to the little things he's noticed about you- you prefer standing with your back to walls, facing the exit of whatever room you're in. You can only fall asleep when someone else on the crew is still awake. You're always chewing toothpicks, sucking on the end of your pen-

Wait.

Do you have an- could he- maybe...?

He hums in thought, grin spreading wider as he looks down at you once more. Gently, he lifts your chin so you're looking directly at him.

"Open your mouth," He instructs softly, almost in a whisper. Curious.

A soft blush blossoms across your ears but other than that you don't question it, far enough into subspace that all that matters is following instructions, being good. You don't even think before parting your lips obediently, looking up at him with those pretty doe eyes. Like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

Bingo.

It was an oral fixation, your constant need to suck on a toothpick or the end of your pen. He couldn't fully understand, but he could relate- he always felt safer with a cigarette in his mouth.

He gently pushes his thumb in your mouth, taking a deep breath as he waits for your reaction to the audacious move. You wanted him to make you feel small, safe, vulnerable. He's more than happy to do that for you.

At your service, now and always.

Your blush spreads out to your cheeks and your eyes widen a fraction in surprise, but as soon as you manage to process that he really just did that, you close your lips gently around his thumb, eyes glazing over as you look up at him for approval.

You're so beautiful when you're like this, all raw and vulnerable and desperate to be good. He hums, eyes glued to you with a loving gaze as he takes in just how stunning you are in this moment.

"Submission suits you." He praises softly, his voice almost a whisper. "You're so...so sweet like this. So lovely when you don't think so much, puppy."

The last word is meant jokingly, gently poking fun at the way you're kneeling next to him, head on his thigh. Your reaction, though...that throws him. The way you squeeze your eyes closed and your blush darkens to a pure pink when he calls you "puppy", the way he can feel you whine around his thumb at the term as you melt, shoulders slumping- and that's certainly interesting, isn't it?

"Aww, puppy likes that, doesn't she?"

He can't help but smile as he takes his thumb out of your mouth for a moment before pushing two fingers in instead. Your cheeks flush when he does so, those puppy dog eyes glancing back at him with so much emotion it's almost overwhelming. The name is fitting, he supposes.

You flush further with embarrassment, though you know it makes no logical sense. Your mind doesn't seem to want to quiet itself, echoing judgements of your current position- weak, needy, pathetic. The shy feeling of poorly restrained shame claws up your chest even as you try to dismiss it. You shouldn't feel so embarrassed by this- Sanji clearly isn't bothered by it, doesn't think it's odd, hell, if anything he seems like he's enjoying himself. Yet you, brain all tied up in knots, can't seem to look at him.

So instead you try to focus on other things, like the comforting contrast of the warmth from his fingers and the cool metal of his ring pressing down softly on your tongue.

He can sense the embarrassment from you, though he can't understand it. He'd seen you at your worst, and this certainly wasn't it.

"...there's nothing wrong with allowing someone to take care of you, you know. I actually quite like seeing you like this." He says, the words falling out of his mouth before he even thinks.

Almost as if they'd been waiting to come out this whole time.

His reassurance only makes your blush intensify, but this time it's not bad.

It isn't shame, not really. It's more pleasantly flustering. If embarrassment were a spectrum, this...feeling would fall on the 'good' end of it.

Sensing it's a vulnerable topic, he lets the reassurance hang, not giving you enough time to think about it before changing the subject with a fond, knowing chuckle.

"You like the ring, don't you?"

He doesn't say, 'it gives you something to focus on so your mind doesn't wander too far' or 'the temperature brings you back down and grounds you here away from those nasty thoughts', but you both know that's what it is.

There's something warm in the way he so nonchalantly reveals that he's been cataloging every little detail of your reactions- the spot behind your ears, the fact you like being called 'puppy', and now the fact that you like the feeling of his ring pressing down on your tongue. Your mind is in enough of a submissive haze that you can't bring yourself to lie to him, instead nodding your head in agreement.

A small, fond smile graces his lips as his thumb moves up to your lower lip, gently prodding at your chin to bring your attention back to him.

"You can take breaks if you want. I know the ring's cold."

His voice is a warm, intimate whisper, eyes watching every movement you make, every twitch and hum catalogued in his mind.

The care in it makes your heart feel warm and you keep his fingers where they are, nipping lightly at him for a moment as if to let him know without words that you're enjoying this, that you don't need a break. It's so fucking cute his heart melts.

He can't help himself any more, pulling his fingers from your mouth. You nearly whine at the loss but then - then, oh, then - he presses a small, soft kiss to your lips and the whole world falls apart, his lips pressed tenderly to you as if you're something so much more than the sum of your parts. Your mind works on overdrive- it's such pure affection and approval and he kissed you, so that means you must've been good, right? That he was proud?

Little do you know, he's just as in awe as you are. In awe that you're really here with him, like this. That you'd ever let him do this. Everything about you is special to him, special because it's yours. Just like your eyes, the sound of your voice, the heart beating erratically in your chest. Before he can think about it he's pulling his ring off his finger, wiping the remains of your spit from it, and sliding it gently on your ring finger.

You cock your head up at him and squint in confusion and he smiles, voice soft like he's afraid anything stronger than a whisper would break the moment he's worked so hard for.

"Keep it, puppy. Then, next time you...need my help like this, you can give it back to me. Yeah?"

He punctuates his words by lifting your hand up like it's precious, placing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles.

The promise sparks a warmth in your chest, the casual mention of "next time" like there's no doubt at all in his mind that there will be a next time, the way he touches you like you're fragile, stares at you with pink cheeks and blown eyes like you're the sun and the moon and all the pinpoints in the night sky.

You should've jumped overboard when you had the chance, you think, because you've ended up drowning either way.

Eventually you can convince your muscles to work enough to nod, face blooming in fireworks of pink and orange and red as your words come back to you, though your voice is still small and hazy and breathless.

"...yeah, okay. Next time."

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla #opla x reader #sanji x you #opla Sanji x you #opla x you #one piece #one piece live action #one piece x reader #one piece x you #opla x y/n #opla sanji x y/n #sanji x y/n

621 notes · View notes

gotham-daydreams · 7 months

Note

Oh my god due to the recent Alfred ask it makes me wonder and scream at the thought if there has ever been a moment when Reader asked Alfred if there's something else they can call him. Like DAD perhaps...(and this can go for different routes and so many juicy things, but ill get into that later).

But since the backstory is up to us, I like to think the Reader has a bio family which was questionable(maybe I'm projecting), so they never had a good track record with their dad and then Bruce adopted them and we know that didn't end well.

So when they ask Alfred if there's something else they can call him ( a lil show that they do see him closer than anyone and that he's important to us.) We could have gone back and forth with him talking about what to call him and stuff when we jokingly say something along the lines of "maybe not Dad since my track record with such isn't the best." Maybe they open up to Alfred about how their family/ life was before they were adopted by the batfam. Maybe even admit they can't see anyone as a dad figure after them (😭), so the thought is uncomfy for them( this hits in so many ways.) Or how they're scared if they call him dad something will change about Alfred and become like their 'dads'.

Which will undoubtedly hit some strings with Alfred. Seeing as how every 'dad' has failed them to the point they can't fathom or be comfortable with seeing or thinking of someone as a dad. But the fact that BRUCE had played a part in it 💀... Which is what's making the Reader confused and feel unsecured in his own personal relationship with the Reader (on what to call him, but probably in other stuff as well).

Back to the top part of the reader asking what they can call him, and they end up at something along the lines or at calling Alfred Dad.

It will undoubtedly make his heart squeeze and scrumble( One way could be he's being called 'Dad' after so long). Probably make Alfred a lot closer to the reader than before. Probably stepping up to the title and being closer taking care of Reader even more, now that he knows they have that emotional bond( stronger than before and the permission).

For little cute ideas/cenerios I imagine he makes an even greater effort to come to our plays and tournaments and sit front row probably recording.( in a reserved seat next to all the other empty ones 😒). And get a lil prissy when he can't make it (ESPECIALLY IF ITS BC OF THE BATFAM). He asks some of the organizers to record it specifically for him if they aren't doing it already, so he can watch it live (or once handed to him)while doing whatever keeps him from going. All so he can talk about it with us when we come back home and show how proud of us he is.

Definitely gets us gifts for each performance/ tournaments. If he was present he would walk with us a while after it ended and get us ice cream or out for a celebratory dinner. 😭

Okay but now for the lil angst part in that moment when we settle on what to call Alfred whenever it would be similar or is Dad or a different title all together that would be the moment we lose any real attachments to the Batfam. Not seeing them as siblings or parental figures anymore. At most just wanted to impress them but that quickly died off and just just focused on what we do have.

Alfred would also know that that was the moment or the end of the falling bridge with the Batfam and Reader. Which would probably hurt him cause the Batfam is still his family, but now he also has us and sees our neglect and what the batfam's consequences are. Probably breaking his own hope of us being accepted/ integrated into it and the Batfam to being back a normal dysfunctional but loving family with us in it.

Okay but the real ANGST. It's not just the reader and Alfred having heart to heart or other situations between the two of them. BUT INSTEAD BRUCE HEARING READER CALL ALFRED THE TITLE WE SETTLED ON. And it doesn't have to be only Bruce that would work for angst because the others are smart so if they hear Reader call Alfred by the title... They know it doesn't correlate to them and their relationship of being Reader's sibling because Alfred isn't that title to them. Connecting and discovering at the same time that the Reader doesn't see them as siblings and hasn't for a time they weren't even aware of.

Imagining just Bruce sneaking away and thinking by himself or even confronting Alfred 😩😩. The Batkids doing their research seeing Reader live their life completely disconnected from theirs only hammering that Reader doesn't see them as family. The only thing connecting to them being Alfred and even Alfred is a different role in Reader's life than in theirs.

Maybe Batfam finds out about what the Reader tried to get their attention only to give up, maybe they don't and just see the Reader slipping away until the Reader becomes a foggy memory again until the Reader moves away like in the [Not] series everything follows.

Hope you enjoy 🥰🥰💕 drink water 💦

Yeah!!! And since there is another ask that's about the reader considering Alfred their dad, and how Bruce would react to that, I won't be going too much into how Bruce himself would react since I'd like to explain it there when I get to it- but I will say that in very, very simple terms. Bruce is not happy about it. At all.

As for how the whole name thing would start? Alfred would definitely say that you can call him whatever you'd like, but will definitely silently try to nudge you in the direction of calling him dad or something akin to that. He may not expect it to work right away, especially in this scenario where the reader already has a messy relationship with people who were supposed to be their father's in the past. However, when you do call him dad or something similar, he is literally about to cry.

He won't cry in front of you! But he might later-

Regardless, words cannot express the amount of joy he feels when that happens, and as you've mentioned, Alfred does try to not let you down. Unwilling to become another reason why you have a hard time seeing people as your father, or father-figure. He feels more inclined to look after you above everyone else, and tries even harder to be present. There isn't a single event of performance that he'll miss willingly, and even if he does- he has his ways of making it up to you, even if you know that it was out of his hands.

I think a neat detail would also be that the amount of unoccupied seats next to him slowly shorten with time. It starts off with there being a seat for everyone in the Batfam, but as time goes on the amount begins to dwindle, until there's just one for him. Maybe with the occasional one other seat beside him if it's for an event, and you get to sit next to him before going or doing whatever you have to. Further showing how you, as the reader, begin to care less and less about the Batfam, and really only see/recognize Alfred as your family. As there is only one reserved seat for him at each and every performance and tournament.

I think the idea of the Batfam noticing this and trying to fix it, yet the reader still being able to slip away, and them forgetting all over again is both just out right heartbreaking and infuriating.

Like, can you imagine as a neglected!reader, finally having your family notice you (despite you growing used to their lack of attention at this point), only to have them forget you exist all over again? Or just forget about you enough to where you still leave without saying much of anything, and only leave behind a note to the one person you considered family?

And imagine the Batfam- not only feeling, but knowing that they've failed you more than they could ever imagine? Not only making you feel alone and isolated in your own home, since they never noticed you, not only once, but twice? That's borderline unforgivable. They noticed you, and somehow still managed to neglect you all over again. It's astonishing, really. Maybe they do have powers after all.

But really- how I could see that happening is if they get too busy with the idea of you rather you yourself, if that makes sense?

Through their research and everything, they form a version of you in their heads that they're all clinging onto, that they unintentionally don't give the real you a chance. Hell, they don't even give themselves a chance to even see it as they drown in their own delusions. Stuck with plans and ideas they ultimately never saw through, either because they were far too worried to further mess things up (like a certain brooding bat), or were far too certain of the outcome and therefore came up with more ideas and plans that they ended up not doing. Like a certain robin who, after two generations, finally wore pants. So by the time they realize their mistake, (which probably happenss when one of them finally decides to actually act on a plan they made) you're gone. Lost to the wind. Like a distant whisper they nevr quite heard, but dreamed about encountering ever since. Forgetting that chasing and searching were things they could do right from the start instead.

Though Alfred and the reader having a heart to heart? Please, we could all really use that. Forget about how horrible Alfred is behind the scenes- we need the closest thing we can get to a positive influence in this family. Or really just a good source of comfort, honestly.

Though his dying hope does break his heart, he just takes it as another opportunity to fill in the shoes of being your father. Even if at this point it means being your only family out of everyone in the Batfam, then so be it. He'll just have to fill in where they refuse to, but he doesn't mind since it gets him more time with you- and I can imagine that, despite the hurt of realizing that you'll never be 'fully' apart of the Wayne family, at least you have a part with Alfred and the Pennyworth's. And there is some comfort and reassurance that comes with that. Since, while you may not be able to have this big, huge family- at least you have this small, comfortable one right here with Alfred.

Hell, this time around Alfred might even fully support the reader moving away, as he's more certain than ever that he'll still have that connection with them. That he and the reader will actually communicate, and as long as he can still see them and so on- he doesn't mind.

He'll let the Batfam run around, and play dumb at all the right moments with that sassy, sarcastic attitude of his. Letting them know that they've wasted their opportunity- wasted the one real chance they had with you, and probably won't be getting another one.

After all, it isn't his fault that they fucked up. If anything, he's probably the only reason why the reader is connected to the Batfam at all, or even associates with them the smallest amount. It isn't because of Bruce or any of the others. It's because of Alfred. Even if he won't say it out loud, he'll make sure that they all know it one way or another, and though Alfred doesn't necessarily view himself as cruel- he wouldn't mind throwing a little shade if it meant emphazing that point a little further.

You are his kid. His family. Why would they think otherwise?

On a lighter, more wholesome note, I definitely agree with the more light/cuter ideas!!

Alfred is definitely spoiling you if he can help it, and will poorly disguise his favoritism- though probably would stop even trying to hide it all together at some point.

There is never a moment where Alfred doesn't/won't remind you of how proud of you he is, and how much you've improved. He isn't afraid to admit that you're doing a good job or doing the right thing, even if you can be reckless at times, to your face. And if you end up doubting your ability, or just yourself as a whole, Alfred will definitely be there to comfort you, and remind you of how well you've been doing and reiterate how proud you make him.

He wants you to know that he'll always be there for you, and by the time you leave, you still feel that.

Alfred also makes sure to check up on you and tend to your needs, along with spend time with you in other ways- which does include, but isn't limited to; watching films at home, baking/cooking together, sewing, reading, tending to the garden, and just generally being in each other's space. Maybe even a small hang out outside of the manor if you both can help it.

Nevertheless, that was a fun read, and I fully agree!! Make sure to drink some water and rest up too!

#talking daydreams #yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #yandere dc #gn reader #platonic yandere #neglected reader #yandere alfred #yandere batfam x reader

781 notes · View notes

sherifftillman · 1 year

Text

What Are Friends For?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Stranger Things (series), 18+ (MINORS DNI), oral (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), masturbation (f receiving),

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: A late night post-Truth or Dare chat with your best friend has you admitting your own lack of experience, sexually. Thankfully, he's more than happy to tutor you.

A/N: finally got inspo for one of my wips! just another 12 to go 🙃

As Nancy and Robin work together to drag a near-catatonic Eddie out of Steve's living room, you nudge the party’s host’s foot with your own. “Alright, Harrington, truth or dare?”

He chuckles, “Seriously? Still? We’re the only two people left, right now.”

You shrug, “’M not ready to go home, yet. Unless you’re really willing to turf out your best friend onto the cold, dark streets of Indiana?” You look at him, doe-eyed, and he laughs again.

“Okay, fine, I’ll bite. Truth.”

“Who’d you lose your V-card with?” you ask plainly, and Steve, halfway through a sip of his drink, chokes on it.

“What the hell! Remind me who it was that insisted on the ‘nothing sexual’ rule when we started playing?” he sputters out.

You shrug, “Around the others, sure, but I’m curious. It’s like, the one thing we never talk about.”

Steve sighs in defeat. “It was… Tina Langdon. At that party on the last day of sophomore year. The one you wouldn’t go to.”

“Couldn’t,” you correct him, “I was ill, remember?”

He scoffs, “Please, you were fine all day, you can’t fool me, you just chickened out!”

“This isn’t about that,” you shake your head, feeling yourself get flustered.

Steve grins slowly. “Yeah, it is! I know you, you were getting some heavy hints from… Who was that guy, oh my god, this is gonna bug me…” He falters, rubbing his jaw in thought.

"Greg Patowski," you mutter.

"Greg Patowski," he repeats in a reminiscent tone, shaking his head and looking up as he waves his finger up and down. "Alright, 'fess up, your turn now. Who was yours?"

Your cheeks burn hot. "Steve!"

He grins wickedly at you. "C'mon, dishing out what you can't take? That's not like you! You started this!"

After a moment, you bashfully murmur, "It was… It - you just…" Steve still looks at you with anticipation, so you blurt out, "It was Greg, okay?!" He scoffs in disbelief. "He - it was that night, too, actually. He came over from the party to 'check on me', we made out on my bed, it… went further. He was in the room and out again within ten minutes," you admit with a scowl.

Steve's jaw drops in shock. "Are you serious?!" You nod. "Who el-"

"No! My turn to ask now." You take another moment to compose yourself before asking, "W-what's your favourite, like, part of it?"

"Sex?" he asks, and you nod. He blows a long breath out before eventually answering, "Probably the stuff before it. Like head, god. Giving it? Hell, yeah. Getting it? I swear, I don't care what else happens," he throws his head back and smiles wistfully.

Shuffling in your seat, you ask, "H-how did you know what to do?"

"Hm?" Steve asks, and you die a little internally as the thought of repeating yourself, though it seems as though he's heard you. "Oh, well, Tina was, as you know, the grade above us, so she was already more… Experienced, and that helped a lot. She pretty much told me where to go and what to do." He shrugs.

You're already nervous enough about having to explain yourself to him, when Robin and Nancy reappear at the doorway. "Hey," Nancy calls, making you jump. "Uh, we threw Eddie into one of the guest rooms. Rob and I are just gonna head home, now."

Steve frowns, "You carried him all the way upstairs? I could've done that for you!"

Robin glares at him from under her brow. "What, because two poor, defenceless young women couldn't handle it on their own?" She gives you a look which you silently translate and respond by punching Steve in the arm, which makes Robin laugh, "Nice. See you kids around!"

"Night!" Nancy calls after her before they both head out the front door.

Steve rubs his arm and pokes your shoulder. "So, Jumpy McPuncher."

"Good one," you deadpan, and he laughs.

"C'mon, spill. What's got you so worked up?"

"Well…" you start hesitantly. "You know I was telling you about the guy who's been kinda flirting with me at work?" Steve nods. "I was, uh, thinking of asking him out, but then I was thinking about the bigger picture, and how eventually that's gonna lead to - to, y’know, possibly sleeping with him, and I was wondering how to make it… Enjoyable, since I don't really know how to…" you falter through the end of your sentence, and Steve frowns.

"You've… Been with others since Greg, right?" You shake your head, and he looks at you incredulously. "What?! You've dated people since then!"

"Dated, sure, but I'd make up some shit about not being ready for a commitment before it got to that point," you admit quietly.

Steve nods slowly, with a thoughtful frown. "Okay. So… You wanna learn how to please a guy?" You nod bashfully and his nod quickens as he hops up onto the couch you'd been leaning against. "Alright."

You look at him in confusion. "W-what are you -?"

He takes some pillows off of the couch and hands them to you. "For your knees," he explains.

"Are you…?" You ask quietly.

"Offering myself as your test dummy? Sure, if it'll help you out," Steve's reply is so casual. "That is, of course, if you want, don't feel like you have t- oh, okay," he smirks as you tentatively unbutton his jeans.

You snap your hands back into your lap in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, did you want to do that?"

"No, no, if… If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, we really don't have to," he studies you with concern, but you shake your head.

"No, I… I want to. This is the best case scenario, right? I can learn, and not worry about disappointing - not that I don't care what you think, but like, you're you, you know?"

He smiles warmly. "Sure am, and you're you. And I'll guide you on what to do, but you gotta be confident with it, 'kay? Just get going with it, and don't take it personally if I tell you to do something a little different, alright?" You nod, and once again reach to undo his jeans. He shuffles them down to his thighs, and you can see a noticeable bulge in his underwear. "You wanna take it out, or me to, or not yet?"

"Can I…?" You clear your throat, remembering what he just said about confidence. "Can i just touch it over…?" You hold your hand to hover just over his crotch area and he smiles with a nod. The affirmation is oddly calming as you start palming him, and he hums out a soft moan.

"That feels nice," he muses. "Nice and gentle."

He keeps humming with delight as he watches you, and you notice something as you keep palming him. "You're getting hard, already."

"Doesn't take much, right?" he smirks. "Plus, you're doing so well, there."

"I, um… I know you're saying I should take things at my own pace, but I don't wanna take too long, should I take it out now?"

"Go for it," Steve mutters under his breath, still smiling.

You reach beneath the elastic of his underwear, take his shaft in your hand and move it out into view. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops when you see the size of it. "You, uh, you're much bigger than Greg Patowski."

He chuckles, "Good to know. Still wanna keep going?"

You nod, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Yeah. So, what do I do from here?"

"Whatever you feel like doing," he shrugs. "You can use your lips and kiss it, or use your tongue and lick it, or you can get straight onto putting it on your mouth. I promise you, as long as it feels good for you, it's gonna feel good for me, too."

You study his member for a few seconds before tentatively licking along his length. He lets his head loll against the back of the couch. "Oh, god, yes. That feels so good. Mmm, and you look good doing it, too," he muses as he looks at you. You look up at him and chirp in questioning affirmation, and he bites his lip. "So good. You know, if you really wanna tease them, you can push your whole mouth against it without wrapping your lips arou- oh, fuck, just like that," he groans as you lean into your motions.

You sit back on your heels to frown, "But if I do that, there's still so much that I can't fit."

"So there is," he raises his eyebrows. "Why don't you try spitting into your hand and getting to work on the rest of it?"

After spitting into your palm, you smirk up at him. "Oh, you want me to get to work?"

He's about to give you an equally smug response when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and start working it. "Fuck, yes, there you go, just keep touching m- mmfff," he moans. "God, see? You're a natural."

Still stroking him, you experimentally run your tongue around his swollen mushroom tip, to which he grips the cushions next to him oh-so tightly. You finally wrap your lips around his member and sink down onto it as much as you can.

He moans so loudly that he brings the couch cushion up to his mouth to bite down on it. It makes you instinctively hum around his cock, which makes him squirm and whine more. You pull back again to look up at him in awe, and he asks, "What? Surprised that I'm moaning, or that you're able to make me?

"A little of both," you admit bashfully, and he sits back, spreading his legs further as he leans back.

"Well, when you're doing such a good job, of course I'm gonna," he smirks.

"S'pose I've got a good teacher, huh?" You raise your eyebrows as you jerk him off.

He shakes his head, "Can't take credit for that, baby, this has all been you. Though, if you want a little guidance, why don't you try sucking your cheeks in while you're down there?"

You happily take him back into your mouth, revelling in his moans as he encourages you. Every ounce of praise he gives you tingles that shoot to your core, and every instance of him calling you a good girl has you light-headed.

You try and sneak your hand between your thighs, but it doesn't go unnoticed. With a chuckle, Steve asks, "You good?"

You whine, "Y're not… Th'only one who's… Enjoying this."

His smug expression stretches into a full-blown grin. "Yeah? You wanna touch yourself? Go ahead."

"Is this good? The right thing to do?" You ask as you reach inside your panties, face melting with pleasure as you finally make contact with yourself.

"Fuck, yes, baby, you look so fucking hot down there, getting yourself off to - what is it, huh? You like the praise? The moans? Or do you just really like having my cock in your mouth?"

That's the real answer, right at the end. You've never especially wanted to get this intimate with anyone, not even that one flirty customer you'd thought about asking out, but now there's only one person you ever want to be thus close with.

But he's your best friend. He's doing this in the name of helping you overcome your anxieties, that's all. You can't jeopardise what you've got with him.

"All of it," you whimper out, briefly looking over to glance at his fingers to allow yourself to imagine them as you sink your own inside you, getting back to sucking him off, making sure you hollow your cheeks every now and again like he told you.

With his moans, you lose yourself in the moment of imagining him touching you that as you hook your fingers inside of you, you instinctively keel over, sinking yourself further down on his cock. Steve lets out a long, stuttered groan at that. "Fucking shit, baby, y'almost got me in whole, god, wanna fuck the rest of me into you, too." You whine around him and he tuts, "Don't think you're ready for that, yet. You're gonna gag, and I don-"

You push yourself even further down, trying desperately to ignore your gag reflex, and he throws his head back to moan, "Fuck, yes, good girl! Such a good girl, taking all of that fucking cock, and holding it there, all while touching yourself, fuck. You're so hot, y'know that? Oh, fuck, baby, you need to breathe, c'mon," he reminds you softly, pushing you away. "That's it, oh, look at all that drool," he simpers, wiping the spit from your chin.

"Do… Do people like that? Seeing all… This?" You gesture towards your face, and he shakes his head.

"Don't know, don't care, doesn't matter. I fucking love it," he groans as you wrap your hand around his shaft again, stroking him all the way from base to tip. "Oh, shit, you really are a fucking natural at getting me off, baby. You gonna get us both off at the same time, yeah?" You nod, and his face contorts with his impending climax. "Fuck, get that mouth back on me, I wanna feel your moans against my cock coax the cum right outta me."

Not needing to be told twice, you happily comply, making sure you try to moan around him as much as possible. He strains out another moan, gasping out, "Fuck, so… So proud of you, look at you. Taking me so well, looking so fucking good touching yourself. Such a good little student, 'm gonna teach you so much more. How a real man eats you out, how a real man fucks you, fuck, so much for you to learn. Y'want that, baby? Tell me. Tell me with my fucking cock in your mouth."

"Wan' y'to hh-fuck me, hh-so bad," you whine, not moving, and he groans.

"You're so fucking cute when you talk with your mouth full, baby. Aww, you gonna do it? You gonna make me cum in that pretty little mouth of yours?" he groans, and you rub at your clit rapidly. "That's my good girl, fuck, look up at me with those eyes, so sweet, so sexy, while you get us both off, c'mon, baby, you can do it, atta girl."

The impending desperation in his tone mixed with his words finally sends you over the edge, moaning shrilly around his cock as you feel your orgasm press deeper than anything's ever felt before. You practically see spots as you squirt all over your fingers, trying desperately to stay focused on keeping Steve's cock in your mouth long enough to take all of his load, swallowing everything as he gives it to you.

He breathes deeply as he comes down from his high, smiling blissfully as he sits forward, cradling your face in his hands. His large, thick-fingered hands. He licks his lips to speak when the wet patch on the pillow you'd been sitting on distracts him. "Holy shit, did you squirt?!" You look up at him and shrug, and he strokes his thumbs against your cheeks. "From now on, I'm making that happen for you, 'kay?"

"So, you meant it? You'll keep teaching me?" You ask hopefully.

"In a ways," he shrugs. "I'll keep showing you what real pleasure feels like… But not for some… Guy who shows up at your work sometimes. Sure as shit not for some Greg Patowski type. I'm. Here to please, you. Got that?"

You nod, licking your lips, a hint of a smile tickling at you. "Real hung up on Greg still, huh?"

"Yeah, well, it should've been me," Steve admits. "I wanted to make my move that night, but then Patowski bounced early, and everyone was talking about how he was bragging about how he was gonna seal the deal with you. And so, my young and stupid self went and drowned my sorrows with Tina."

You chuckle softly. "You know, when I heard knocking at my window that night, I really hoped it would be you. Always dreamt of you sneaking in through my window and having your way with me. But I like this better."

"You do?" he asks, leaning closer.

"Yeah. You were right, about getting with someone with more experience." You shuffle yourself closer to him, further between his legs, letting go your arms rest around his hips. "'Cause now you've definitely ruined other men for me."

He grins, pulling you up and scooping you I to his lap before grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you fervently. "You wrecked me a long time ago, baby. Glad to see you're finally catching up."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut

2K notes · View notes