#people always ask about scars always even when they know they shouldn’t and you always have to find something to say | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winkwonkwankwenk · 3 months

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hey girlie it’s me asking for that football player choso x nerd reader smut who offers to tutor him😉

I had so many ideas for this but in the end, I wanted to write him as a whimpering mess corrupted by reader!!

☆*: .｡.Summary .｡.:*☆

Choso is a star athlete who's still virgin- and has no clue about sex. Not a shocker that he's also failing anatomy, which is where you come in to help. What better way to teach him than hands-on ;)

Word count: 1.8k

SFW/NSFW

Pairing: Dumb Jock!Choso x Tutor!Reader

He’s not what you expected.

Choso sits beside you with a quiet nod, fidgeting with his fingers as you pull out a textbook. The two of you had met through your teacher, both of you in the Anatomy class your college offered. You were the one of the students with the highest grade, he was the student with the lowest. You had actually been given an academic accomplishment aware the day you met him in your teacher’s office. He was just as quiet then as he is now, eyes down as if they weren’t up when he was on the field a few days before. What he lacked in book smarts he made up for during games. Thanks to him, your college was going to the College Cup. Maybe if you brought that up you could get him to talk.

“So…congrats.”

“On?” His voice is a rasp, barely above a whisper.

“On all the wins, I've gone to a few games. You’re incredible.” You smile softly and his cheeks flush pink. Cute, you didn’t expect someone so popular to be so bashful.

“T-Thank you.” He sinks in his seat a little, eyes on his lap. He’s used to compliments but they sound different coming from you. “Congrats to you too, on the award I mean. You’re really smart, I wish I was.”

“Thanks, and you are.” You put your hands on his, squeezing them gently. “Sometimes your brain just needs a bit of help.”

“Then I’m glad I have someone like you to help me.” Damn that smile, it’s like his face is as bright as the sun.

He’s a fast learner, clinging to every word that leaves your lips. You catch him staring at them but before you can ask, he jerks his red face away. Weird. He’s acting like he’s never been this close to a girl before, like a first grader on valentines day. You laugh quietly at the thought, there’s no way you’re the first girl he’s been around. He’s handsome, small eyes and thin dark brows with jet black hair cascading down his shoulders. There’s a mark on his face that drags across his nose, maybe a scar from football. You try not to look at it much, but it’s the only blemish you’ve found on his face.

“Y/N, what’s a clit?” He curiously looks at you, pointing to words on the page. How’d he even get that far?! You zone out for five seconds and he’s read through ten chapters! “It seems kind of useless.”

“Useless? It’s literally the best thing to play-” Your face burns and you quickly close your mouth. “Let’s just flip back the chapter before, okay?”

“Is it something weird? Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked…”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just surprised-” You move your hands from his to your lap, “-You’ve never…?”

“Never what?” God, he can’t even finish the sentence. Did his parents never give him the talk? He was the same age as you, he had to at least know something but the way he looked at you was so curious and oblivious.

“Choso, are you a virgin?” Normally, you’d think the question was too pervasive but how else were you supposed to ask it?!

“What’s a virgin?”

“Have you ever had sex?” Your voice is a whisper, the library quiet enough for it to seem like a shout. “Hooked up with someone?”

“No, I thought people only did that to make babies.” He says it so casually, shrugging a little. “Why else would someone do that?”

“For fun.”

“...Fun?”

Choso’s never thought of it that way, he’s never really had to. Unlike his peers, when puberty hit him he didn’t run to release it. He kept to himself, focused on sports like his father wanted and grades like his mother pleaded. He had always been well behaved, not an ounce of rebellion in him. College had introduced him to new things like Alcohol and porn, but he wasn’t that into any of it honestly.

“Is something wrong with me?” His shoulders slump, tears in his eyes. His football friends always talked about doing it but he hadn’t really thought much about it until now. “Am I supposed to have done it?”

“No! It’s up to you when you’re ready to!” You scramble to comfort him, cupping his face and smiling. “You’re the one who gets to decide. I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s totally normal to not have done it yet.”

“How do I know when I’m ready to do it?” He says in between sniffles.

“Well, when you like and trust someone enough I guess.” You shrug, “I don’t even really remember my first time. I was pretty young and the guy was one of my first boyfriends. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal…” He repeats.

You finish studying a few hours later, leaving the library side by side. He’s quiet, eyebrows furrowed and focused on the sidewalk. You give him a gentle nudge and he jumps, apologizing frantically for zoning out. Cute, you didn’t mean to call him it out loud but it slipped out. His face reddens and he thanks you, hands in his pockets as his thoughts churn. Whenever he’s ready? With someone he likes? What if he’s just curious? Is it okay to do it then?

“Y/N?”

“What’s up?” You glance up from your phone.

“Can we…do it?”

And that was how he ended up where he is now, whimpering and sobbing under you as you slam down on his bare shaft. Tight, so tight, it feels like there’s a rubber-band around his cock. Your hands are planted down on his chest, groping it as you suck up every sound that dares to leave his mouth. He’s drooling, head thrown back as his fingers dig into your thighs. Soft, it’s like squeezing a pillow. Weightless, he feels like he’s floating, mind numb as you bounce up and down on his cock. He’s never felt so hot, like he’s going to melt away when you clench around him. He cries out, cock jolting inside of you before spurting a sticky load. You don’t stop, you don’t give him time to recover. His neck is covered in dark red and purple marks left by your mouth, barely any of his pale skin left untouched. Your glasses hang from the bridge of your nose, button-up only halfway buttoned, leaving your bra and breasts exposed. Your room is humid, air thick with the scent of sex.

“What would your parents think, hm?” You taunt, tongue tracing the scar on his nose as he shudders. “Their precious little son, filling up a woman he met only a few hours ago.”

“Y/N, ‘m sorry, I‘m sorry~” His voice is a choked sob, eyes rolled back as he cums again. So he likes being degraded? You can do that. “Please, please, please~”

“Please what? You wanted to ‘do it’ remember?” You slowly stop, sliding his cock out until his tip is nestled in your cunt. “You came crawling to my apartment tonight in nothing but gray sweats and a tight compression shirt like you didn’t think I’d get turned on from that.”

“Y/N~” He cries out when you sit back down, sending his cock back into your warmth. You’re kissing him again, devouring his lips with yours as you grind. His legs are starting to feel numb, vision blurring as his mind fogs. How many times has he came now? At least ten.

“C’mon Choso, don’t go stupid on me.” You coo as if you aren’t crushing his cock between your walls, “Does it really feel that good?”

“Mhm~ good…more…” He can’t think straight, can barely speak. He lets out a sweet little strangled scream when you pin his hands above his head and speed up, “Anngh~!”

You’ve been trying to ignore your building orgasm but if he keeps making those cute sounds you’re going to lose it. His body is so honest, hips arching to meet yours and tongue hanging from his mouth whenever you lean down. God, those eyes are so pretty rolled back. Sweat glistens on his muscles, especially his plump chest and those pink inverted nipples. You want to swallow him whole, suck his soul from his body. You’ll do that next, you’ll take his cock into your mouth and slurp it until it sprays clear shots. Your filthy thoughts are interrupted by your orgasm, pleasure popping in every nerve when his cock hits your spot. You moan into his mouth, his eyes closing as another load spills into you.

“Choso?” You poke him, panting. Your eyes widen when you realize he’s passed out, “Choso!”

“Wet…’s wet…” Is all he manages to mumble, in and out of consciousness.

You laugh breathlessly, slowly getting up to get a washcloth. The cocktail of your fluids string between the two of you, his milky semen dripping from your pussy. You stumble into the bathroom, legs shaking and knees sore. He stretched you out good, thick cock rubbed your walls smooth. You hop in the shower, washing away the stench of sex before going back to your bedroom. He’s still fast asleep, snoring softly and body sticky. You gently shake him away and smirk when his snores turn into low grumbles.

“Hurts…” He winces when you pull him up, his arm on your shoulder as you lead him to the shower.

Your hands are delicate now, wiping him down as he sleeps in the tub. His eyelashes flutter every so often, eyes peeking open as if he thinks you’ll leave him. You kiss his forehead, whispering praises before helping him back to bed. He lays his head on your lap, nose between your thighs. You gasp when he parts them, hazy eyes looking up at you hungrily.

“C-Choso, what are you- ohmygod~!”

“Wan’ taste.” Is all he says before slurping between your folds. Your scent had woken him and his cock up.

Your hands tangle in his wet hair as he gulps down every drop from your cunt. His tongue is merciless, digging inside of you until his nose is buried into your pussy. You moan, rocking against his face. You push his head down, back arching when his mouth moves to your clit.

“You said this was the best to play with…” He flicks his tongue against it and you muffle your cry with your palms.

You’re sweet, sticking to his tongue. He sucks your clit while looking up at you so innocently, as if he doesn’t have a face full of pussy. How the hell was a virgin eating you out so expertly? He twisted and curled his tongue inside of you, grunting when you tugged his hair. Good, so damn good, fuck you just want to push him back to ride his face. A low buzz fills your fuzzy mind and before you know it you’re unraveling in front of him, pussy twitching and spasming around his mouth as you arch into his ministrations. You slump against your bed frame, thighs trembling as you come down from your orgasm.

“Y/N, I learned a lot tonight.” He whispers with a soft smile, kissing your clit. “Thank you.”

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#wink writes 💗#choso jjk #choso jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk fanfic #choso #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso smut #kamo choso #choso kamo smut #chousou #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk

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lemonwrap · 1 month

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Imagine: Omegaverse AU where Ghost had his scent gland cut out by Roba.

Ghost barely survived it, and now he doesn’t have a scent of his own. He’s never tried, but it’s a logical assumption that he won’t be able to sustain a mating bond, either. He can usually pass his lack of scent off as just using the scent suppressants military members almost always use on missions, but it’s harder during downtime when there’s not such a need for them.

Ghost is close to Soap, flirting and bantering with him constantly, *likes* him, but he never outright tells him. He likes Soap’s scent, too, an odd but alluring combination of citrus and a hint of gunpowder—one would think the two scents together would be disgusting, but when it’s Soap, it’s not.

Ghost keeps the mask on to hide, and doesn’t lift it even to eat when others are around. It’s kind of a pain sometimes, really, and he’s considered being done with all the bullshit and just taking it off, but then Soap would know. He wants the bond and affection between them to last. It’s fucked up to lie to him, but Soap won’t want him when he finds out Ghost can’t actually bond with him, and Soap is the closest he’s been to someone in years.

Soap, while slightly skeptical of Ghost’s unwillingness to take off the mask, doesn’t entirely connect the dots and just thinks Ghost’s scent suppressants work amazingly.

Until the day Ghost sustains a head injury on a mission, that is. He’s losing blood fast and Soap can’t see a thing with the mask on, and he just barely convinces Ghost to take it off so he can staunch the blood flow better. Soap gets him patched up enough that he won’t bleed out on the way to exfil, but with the danger now past, he notices the deep, unmistakable scar of a botched scent gland removal on Ghost’s neck.

After Ghost is treated in medical, he makes an effort to avoid Soap, simply not wanting to bother with his pity or disgust.

He knows Soap liked him back at one point, but if they had ever gotten that far, they’d never be able to actually bond. Soap deserves a real mate.

Soap catches on by the end of the first day that Ghost is avoiding him, but Ghost is elusive if he wants to be, and Soap doesn’t catch him in the man’s favorite smoking spot on the roof until a week later.

Ghost hears him coming, but doesn’t pull his mask back down. Soap’s seen the scar anyways, so it doesn’t really matter.

“Long time no see, Lt,” Soap says.

Ghost doesn’t reply and takes a drag from his cigarette. He shouldn’t have let himself get so close to Soap, because he knew it’d go to shit once he found out about the scar. People usually date to bond. Ghost can’t do that.

Soap stands next to Ghost.

“Care to share?” Soap asks. Ghost hums and gives the cigarette to Soap, and they silently pass it back and forth until it’s a stub.

“Gonna tell me why you were avoiding me?” Soap asks, blowing out the last puff of smoke. “Kinda rude to vanish on someone like that.”

“Figured you’d know that one,” Ghost replies.

“If it’s about—“

Ghost cuts him off. “It is.”

“So you’ve been flirting with me and didn’t think to mention it? I’ve been wanting to fuck you for the past six fuckin’ months,” Soap says, sounding irritated. “Kiss would’ve been nice, too.”

“I didn’t because I knew you’d act like this,” Ghost says, pointedly ignoring the fact that Soap just admitted that he likes Ghost—or that he did at one point, anyway.

“So you like me?”

“Yes,” Ghost says, “but I think you can find someone that’ll be able to keep a bond.”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” Soap says resolutely. “I want you anyway.”

Ghost doesn’t scoff, but he sort of wants to. Of course it makes a difference.

“Just drop it, Soap,” Ghost says.

Soap does, for about ten seconds. Then he grabs Ghost by the collar and kisses him hard, smashing their lips together and biting at Ghost’s lips. Ghost kisses back just as hard, savoring how their bodies feel pressed together, hands gripping at each other’s clothes and skin.

This won’t last, but Ghost will take what he can get.

#Ghost and Soap could be any combo of alpha and/or omega tbh #I feel like it works either way #I’m imagining this as an eventual happy ending #Bonus if Ghost *can* be bonded with but Soap just has to renew the bite often ;)#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #call of duty #cod #lemonwrap writes #drabble

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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WIBTA… my crush threw up when she saw my scars.

I (22ftm) have intense feelings for my friend (24 f ), we’ll call her Bee. For some background I met her through my job (we’re in the food industry). I’m have a big friend group and my crush use to work with everyone. Bee use to actually date someone within the friend group, Sandy (24 f). They’re still friends even tho they’re broken up.

I hangout with my work friend group a lot, and Bee sometimes will come along. I like Bee a lot because she’s just really cool, she’s always calm, she talks about anything and everything, and she’s beautiful. She even is working as a heating and cooling technician. It’s hard for her to hangout with all of us because she has so many other things going on in general. She even bough a house in this economy!

Sandy and Bee are still close friends. I’ve asked a Sandy about their relationship and if she’s over her, and Sandy basically just tells me they were both kids and have dated other people since breaking up.

I haven’t actually gotten the chance to hangout with Bee one on one. I’ll even invite her to hangout with our group, but most the time she’s either busy with her house, or her other friends/family/business trips/etc. At first I thought she was lying, but Sandy has told me Bee just does a lot in general now. I’ve invited her to see a few scary movies with me, but she’s turned down 3/3.

This is where I may have been the asshole for making Bee uncomfortable. I had gotten my top surgery (whoo hoo) and after some recovering I kinda wanted to celebrate. Our other mutual friend was throwing a game night and I asked if Bee was coming and if she could come. Our friend said that’s fine since Bee is cool, and I invited Bee and she said she’d love to. She showed up with her boyfriend. I know it sounds bad, I just wanna get closer to Bee in general, her and I don’t have to date (although I wouldn’t mind).

Anyway during the game night, Sandy and Bee went to a separate bedroom to talk. I did pretend to go to the bathroom to ease drop. Bee was just basically telling Sandy she’s been stressed about work and her family, and redoing her house (she and her bf are doing the work themselves) Sandy basically just offered to help and Bee was just like “oh you listening is more than enough!” And they kinda just talked a little more. I was kinda feeling betrayed by Sandy, I haven’t told Sandy I really wanna get closer to Bee, she probably knows tho, but she never offers any help on how I could get closer.

When the two got out I raised a toast to my top surgery and to just making my body feel more like me, and to thank all my friends for the love and support I’ve received through them. I took off my shirt to show off, and I immediately noticed Bee looked away.

Throughout the night I would try and talk to Bee, but she wouldn’t make eye contact with me. she was keeping the conversation short Was she afraid to sexualize me? Was she transphobic? Her boyfriend even got between us and tried asking me how I’m doing and was kinda being a block. My mind was racing and I just kinda grabbed her hand and said “Does this scare you?”. She cried out “sorry!” And ran away…and she threw up in the sink. She started crying and apologizing and Sandy and her bf kinda took her to the bathroom then the car. Bee came in said sorry to everyone for ruining the night, and like three people said “no you just go home and feel better”.

I watched Sandy talk to both Bee and her boyfriend for like 20 minutes “saying goodbye”. I was shocked by the whole thing. It finally took someone to ask me if I was okay. I asked if Bee was trans phobic, why wouldn’t she look at me, she never hangs out with me one on one. Everyone told me that Bee isn’t transphobic (gee thanks). One of my friends even said I shouldn’t have grabbed Bee like that, which I know now. She was just acting all weird around me, and she was what I thought the coolest person ever.

Sandy came back in, she was laughing and she told the group Bee was fine. I asked “what about me!?” Sandy basically explained “body stuff” makes Bee “queasy”. i was hurt and offended that no one cared about me or my feelings.

Later that night Bee called me to apologize. She offered to buy me lunch. I was still hot headed and asked how my scars make her throw up. She basically told me about an event in her life that does make her uncomfortable around blood/scars/etc. I asked if she supported trans rights. she said of course. I asked her if she would ever date me, and she said shes never thought about it because shes with her bf. i basically confessed my feelings which she did not return but wishes me luck.

We never got lunch. I feel weird reaching out to her. she hasn't stopped by the restaurant. She hasn't come to a group gathering since. i know her and Sandy still hangout which pissed me off. i tried talking to my "friend" about it, but they say it as a step too far. they also shame me for crushing on her (i was fine with just friendship).

Its been like two months and everyone is still weird about it. Every time i bring it up, everyone makes me the bad guy. was i the asshole? was Sandy or Bee or even my friends that didnt support me?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #emetophobia cw

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lunajay33 · 2 months

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Enjoy the Silence🌪️

Summary: Things in your past has driven you to be silent but will someone be able to break that shell, will someone finally listen to you(might make this into a series!)

•Masterlist•

Things happened, awful painful things happened to me as a child even as a teen, that feeling never really went away, it was there deep in your heart, lingering at the back of your mind so I learned to never let those things happen again because my heart couldn’t handle that, so now I stay silent I don’t let anyone in

So when the apocalypse happened I got to run away from the things that were holding me back, from the people that hurt me and I got to find a group at the quarry that were so kind, they accepted me, they accepted after awhile that I didn’t talk they were my family now but there was still the thought of getting hurt so I kept that part of myself locked away

But I heard the others talk about it sometimes, they just thought I was mute and I’d rather then think that than the real reason

When we found the prison I thought things might be getting better but then that fell and then terminus brought up so much pain but now we were finally someone secure, Alexandria

The two house split up the group, I stayed with Rick Michonne Carl Judith and Daryl, my room being right next to Daryl’s which made me feel safe, every since I met him at the quarry I felt this peace around him, I never knew why until I saw the scars that littered his body that’s when I knew he felt my pain, he understood

And from the way he looked at me I think he knew why I was also silent which took that weight off my chest

I got up from my bed and went to get ready for the day in mine and Daryl’s shared bathroom in the basement, I brushed my teeth pulled my hair back for the day and got dressed in my shorts and long sleeves black shirt, I opened up the door to leave when I bumped into Daryl scaring me a bit from the impact

“Oh sorry” he said looking down at me

I just smiled and moved to the side to let him past, when he passed he brushed his hand over my shoulder giving me this weird feeling in my chest I’ve never felt before, usually I hated people touching me but for some reason his touch was…..nice

I walked upstairs grabbing an apple and heading out to the gardens, during the day Maggie and I usually worked on maintaining the gardens, it was relaxing and helped me forget about what plagued my mind, the day went on as usual, until it was my turn for watch, I sat on the perch looking over the wall

I always watched at night, me and someone else well whoever wanted to, the others in the group said I shouldn’t be out every night and to switch regularly every other day with someone but I just shook my head and continued this routine

As I was watching the sight before me, the occasional straggle walker waiting for my watch partner, some people I preferred over others as they didn’t push me to talk and just enjoyed the silence with me

That’s when the ladder started creaking as someone climbed up to take watch with me, the grunt that I heard when the person sat next to me I knew exactly who it was and that feeling in my chest was back

I looked at him greeting him with a simple smile which he returned and that feeling just grew, it was confusing I didn’t know what it was it was so foreign maybe that’s just what happened when I felt comfortable with someone, that must be it

“Have a good day?” He asked looking at me

I nodded resting my head on my hand that was perched up on my knee, then I motioned to him for his response

“Day was alright, went on a run actually found somethin fer ya” he said as he rummaged through his bag he brought up, it was a surprise for sure no one really ever got me anything….like every

He pulled out a new pair of boots and a new long sleeve shirt, I gasped at this gesture it made my chest feel tight with happiness

I took the boots and tried them on and they were a perfect fight the shirt looked like the right size too, instead of black like my usually shirt this one was dark green

“I saw yer shoes were falling apart and ya only wear this black shirt, thought ya might like somethin’ new” he said grunting, clearing his through but I knew this kind of thing wasn’t normal for him either

I felt so happy someone would do this for me, I placed my hand on his and squeezed it hoping he realized by my touching him, which was rare, showed how much this really meant to me

“It ain’t a problem” he said turning his hand to hold mine, I thought he’d pull away but he didn’t and I liked it, for the next few hours of our shift we sat there in silence, some occasional questions but he held my hand the whole time, something new, something warm

Our shift was over now as Abraham and Sasha replaced us

“Get some sleep you two” Sasha said smiling as you both started walking back to your house

~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl’s POV

She gasped, a noise actually left her, and it was the cutest thing ever, there was something about her, maybe because she was quiet she didn’t try and fill the silence with stupid chit chat, sure I liked to talk with some people normal conversations but with her it was some of the only time that I felt relaxed

And when her eyes lit up at the present she looked so happy which a lot of us never really got to see, for as long as I’ve known her I’ve never really seen her happy, but this little gesture shows that she never really got presents kind of like me

But even though I was closed off most of the time except with Rick and Carol, I wanted to be able to get closer to her, show her she can be happy, but I don’t wanna push her too much, just a little at a time

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Normal POV

Last night I had the best sleep of my life, maybe it was the peaceful evening with Daryl, maybe it was the way he made me feel and distracted me, but whatever it was I was able to sleep through the whole night without waking up from a nightmare

I got dressed in my new boots and new shirt, along with my usual jean shorts, I only had one pair but I felt like too much of a burden to ask for a new pair even though I’ve only been wearing these since the farm when Maggie gave them to me after my pants were ripped

But I mean Daryl gave me this shirt and boots maybe it wouldn’t be too much of a problem to ask for him to keep an eye out on his next scavenging outage, they always came around asking everyone if people needed something and I always declined, so just this once so be fine….right?

I went upstairs and Carl Michonne Rick and Daryl were sat at the table having breakfast, Rick holding Judith and feeding her pieces of peaches, normally I’d take something and leave but after last night I wanted to get closer to everyone even just with small little gestures, so I decided to sit at the table in the open chair by Michonne

Everyone looked at me first with shocked expressions but smiled after they realized what happened

“Morning! Have a good sleep?” Michonne asked smiling as she put a pancake on my plate

I nodded smiling genuinely, finally feeling refreshed after actually being able to sleep through a whole night

“Are you working on the garden again today?” Carl asked

Again I nodded shovelling the pancakes into my mouth, starving from having missed supper last night

“Are the tomatoes rip yet I’m wanna make pasta for the family” Rick asked

I held my fingers close together showing that the tomatoes were close to being done and Rick was happy about it, I helped clean up from breakfast and went to head to the garden but right before I left the porch I saw Daryl was already cleaning his bow and thought this was the best time to ask

I went and stood infront of him fiddling with the ends of my shirt, he looked at me as he sat his bow down

“Ya good?” He asked

It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to someone so this was a big deal for me

“Ummm…..can you look for shorts for me next time you go out, if it’s not too much to ask” I blurted out quickly wanting to get it over with

It was silent for a while and it was getting uncomfortable for me, he was the only one I finally got the courage to actually talk too and now he’s the one not talking

“Sorry” I said turning to leave but before I made it down the porch he gently took my shoulder stopping me

“I can do that, I’ll bring ya back a few ta pick from” he said giving me a gently smile

I felt that weight lift from my chest, I nodded smiling and left to harvest any rip foods, as I was placing some strawberries in a basket I kept thinking about Daryl, I only ever really see him smile like that when he was talking to me or Carol and it made those butterflies erupt in my stomach, and it was driving me insane I didn’t know what this meant

“Here have some water it’s hot as hell out today” Maggie said breaking me from my thoughts as she handed me her water bottle, I wiped of my hands and chugged some feeling a bit better

The sun was really beating down today and the longsleeve wasn’t helping but it was like a safe thing for me to feel covered, shorts were fine but I liked being fully covered on my top half for some reason, maybe I’ll just take a break in side for a second

I took the strawberries bringing them to the kitchen for Olivia to store, I took a few and brought them back to the house placing them in the fridge for the others, after cooling off I headed back out to help Maggie and let her take her break

I was working later into the evening after harvesting the food, I went on to pick off any dead leaves, replanting some sprout to make more plants and doing some watering, now that the sun was setting I sat on the patch of grass off of the garden relaxing after a long day of work, feeling the little breeze blow through my hair

I was so relaxed almost falling asleep when someone sat next to me shaking my shoulder

“Hey” that gruff voice I knew anywhere, looking beside me to see Daryl with his bag again

“Me and Rick went out on a little run today, found a store that was barely looked through” he placed his bag infront of me motioning to it

I pulled out like 5 pairs of shorts all kinda similar to the ones I have now but in varying colors, denim blue, black, light denim, army green, and dark grey plus all the same size as mine now, he really new my sizes perfectly

I held them too my chest smiling so much my cheeks hurt

“Thank you” I said

“No probelm, maybe next time ya can come with me”

“Sure!”

“Ya know I’m still not use ta ya talkin ta me……I like it” he said making be blush

“You’re the only one…..I’m comfortable with you”

“Why?” He asked you just shrugged your shoulders

“Ya can talk ta me ya know”

“I know I’m just not…..not yet”

“I get it, we should go home get some dinner before Carl eats everything” he said standing holding his hand out for me, I held the shorts tight and took his hand but he didn’t let go all the way back to the house

Something new was happening, it was scary but I was willing to try whatever this was

—///—///—///—///—///—///—///—

Part.2<-

Thinking of doing a part 2 if you wanna be in the taglist comment!!

Taglist: @deansapplepie

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firelilyfox · 26 days

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Choose Your Next Words Carefully

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: se&ual harassment (assault) / cursing / angst / blood

Words: 2k

Summary: Paul & you were childhood friends but suddenly he distanced from you. On a night full of celebration you get into trouble & Paul protects you … but what happened two years ago?

______________________

Caladan looked even more beautiful at night.

You are watching the peaceful waves collapsing under the balcony you are standing on. Behind the whole castle is celebrating another victory against the Harkonnen. A soft breeze lets the fabric of your dress flow in the wind and you take a deep breath of the salty air.

It wasn’t your wish to be here tonight, but your father insisted that you would watch him getting honored for his work for Duke Leto. And you did. But when the duke’s son joined the celebration, you had to get out of there as soon as possible.

You and Paul Atreides had a very … complicated past.

As long as you could remember you had a crush on him and he knew it all along. When the two of you were younger, you would play everyday and make mischief all around the castle. But suddenly you barley saw him once a week and Paul acted kinda cold around you. Once you wanted to talk to him about his weird behavior, he just laughed at you and made fun of you for having a crush on him. Everybody around could hear him laughing and began to pity you for being so naive.

The daughter of a soldier would never be good enough for a future Duke.

You never spoke to Paul again. This was two years ago, but every time you see him at big events, your heart tightens and you become overwhelmed with sadness and anger. How could he do something like that to you? Even if he never had felt the same for you as you did for him … friends don’t hurt each other like that.

„What are you doing out here?“, a voice asked behind you. When you turned around you saw a man standing there, looking at you with a drunk smile. It was a friend of your father. A soldier, just like him.

„Just catching some fresh air“, you said.

The man comes closer to you, stumbling over his own feet. His wrinkly face showed many scars from battle in the past. „It is dangerous … for a young Lady … out here.“

He leans towards you, but you duck away from him. „Uh.. thanks for the heads up. I will go inside … where its safer.“

As you turn your back again, you can hear him mumbling something about find me later, but you don’t want to keep listening to this creepy guy.

Quickly your feet carrying you inside the great hall, where most of the people are dancing and drinking. You couldn’t see your father anywhere because you are shorter than most of the men and women here. So you decide to get on one of the stone benches to get a better view from up there.

„These things are meant to sit on, you know?“

Green eyes. A crooked grin. Freckles.

„What do you know, Atreides? Shouldn’t your royal ass be sitting on a throne or something?“

Paul chuckles. „Sassy as always. Some things never change, hm?“

You rolled your eyes and went back to keep on looking for your father, so you could finally leave this goddamn party. That’s when Paul joined you on the bench.

„What are we looking for?“, he asked amused.

You’re frowning at him. „WE are not looking for anything. I am looking for my father. And YOU should leave me alone, Atreides.“

Paul looks confused. „Have you forgotten my first name? It’s Paul, you know?“ He smiled again and you catch yourself almost smiling at his dumb joke. But you manage to pull yourself together before that happens. It almost felt like when you were kids.

„Fuck off, Paul.“ You jump from the bench and trying to make a way through the crowd of drunk, dancing people. Paul follows you.

„You tell your future Duke to fuck off? Hah! You are as brave as I remember“, he says laughing. Before you could respond anything, Paul grabs your wrist and turns you around. His other hand holding your waist and you find yourself pressed against him. The high difference forces you to look up at him.

„What are you doing?“, you stutter.

A smirk appears on his face, as if he know how much impact his presence has on you. „I’m dancing with you. I mean we are on the dance floor.“

For a moment you let yourself enjoy the feeling of being so close to him. The pressure of his hand on your lower back, his chest moving against yours. Your fingers on his bicep. Hands holding each other. This was something you always dreamed about. Your heart begins to pound like crazy. His smile faded and his gaze softened. Now he looks at you like you are the only thing that is existent. Time moves slower. Noise faded. Only you and him.

Paul leans his forehead against yours, closings his eyes and he takes a deep breath. The moment was intimate and all you wished for at some point … but it felt wrong.

„What has gotten into you tonight?“ You pushed him away. A hurt expression crossed his face and you almost felt bad. „Two years, Paul. Two years and now this?“

Without waiting for a stupid response you took off and managed to find a way through the crowd out in the hallways. Tears filled your eyes, but you are to stubborn to let them run down your face, exposing your hurt feelings.

Desperate for some privacy you opened a small door and find an empty room with sofas. The perfect hiding spot until you’ll be able to shove down your feelings again.

„I see. The Lady found me.“

A high pinched scream escaped your throat as you were grabbed roughly by the shoulders and got pushed down on one of the sofas. Your head slammed against something hard and you feel warm blood running down your cheek.

The man from the balcony holds you down with a big smile on his face. His gaze is hidden in shadows but you recognize him.

„Let me go! My father will behead you with his own hands!“ You scream at him, trying to get away but against his heavy body you have no chance.

He was not listening and even if he was, he seemed not to care. The man took one hand of your shoulder to grab you by the neck to choke you and the other hand loosened up his pants.

„No. No please. No“, you beg for him to stop.

„Not so bratty anymore, hm? I shall teach you a lesson you little slut! I will…“

But his words came to stop. Slowly you opened your eyes again, as his grip around your neck got loose again. You could see a knife at his throat, forcing him to stop and not move a muscle. The hand, that was holding the knife belonged to … Paul.

He was standing behind the man. His eyes dark and full of rage. The knife scratching the skin and making the old man bleed a little bit.

The old guy shouted in anger. „Whoever dares to interrupt me will be punished!“

Paul chuckled dangerously silent and forced the man to turn around to look at him. His eyes widened in shock. „My Lord“, he whispered. „I didn’t know that you own this whore … I mean I …“

„If I were you“, Paul interrupted him with a deadly glance. „I would choose my next words very carefully.“

Paul lays more pressure on the knife and it’s cutting deeper into his skin. The man began to whimper. Before the damage would be irreversible, Paul pushed him to the ground.

„I won’t wash my hands in your blood.“ As if he had given a silent sign, two guards came in to drag the man outside. „These guys will handle that.“

You look at Pauls back. He was standing there like a true leader. Like the man he became. He was not a child anymore … and neither were you.

As the door closes again he dropped the knife and turned around to you. Faster than lighting he got down on one knee to met your eyes at the same hight. His hands cupping your face and he wipes your tears away that mixed up with the blood.

„Does it hurt badly?“, he asked with a soft voice. The contrast to his fearless and deadly side couldn’t be any bigger.

You shake your head. „No it’s fine.“

„He will be beheaded in the morning. You don’t have to worry about seeing him ever again.“ Paul tries to calm you down. His eyes holding your own captured and you weren’t able to look away.

„Thanks. I mean …“, you shake your head again getting rid of his hands. „I should go now.“

You stand up and opening the door. Paul is standing right behind you, pushing the door shut again. His hand were right next to your head but you refuse tu turn around right away.

„Please let me explain“, he whispered. Paul was so close, that you could feel his breath on your skin. You sigh but still refuse to turn around to look at him.

„There is nothing to explain. I know everything that I need to know.“

„You asked me what has gotten into me tonight.“

You stay silent.

Paul sighted. „My father told me that I don’t have to be married to be the next Duke.“

Confusion brings you to look over your shoulder and met his sad green eyes. The honesty in them lets you turn around. „What does that have to do with me?“

He smiled but it looked so sad and broken. „Everything. I … i stayed away from you on purpose, y/n.“

„What do you mean?“

„The day you told me, that you … you had feelings for me, was the same day my father told me to that I have to marry Princess Irulan in the future. I was so mad at him because I already lost my heart to someone and I … but he said that it had to be this way.“

„So you let out your anger about your father out on me?“, you asked angrily.

Paul shakes his head. „No. I just thought … if you would hate me … then it would be easier for me to stay away from you.“

Suddenly all fell right into place. His behavior on that day two years ago made much more sense … he was cold and distant but…

You punched him on the arm. „That still don’t give you the permission to act like an asshole!“

Paul smiled and nodded apologetically. „You are right but I was young and not so smart like I thought I wished to be.“

A moment of silence fell over the two of you. Just the eyes spoke louder than a voice could ever manage to do.

„So … you lost your heart to someone else than your reflection in the mirror?“, you joked.

„God I missed your sassy mouth so much!“ Paul laughed and it was the first real laughter you heard from him for such a long time. „Yeah i did. Even if my reflection is pretty stunning … nothing compares to the girl that I lost my heart and soul to.“

Paul gently laid his hand on your cheek making sure you keep on looking into his eyes before he kept on talking. „I always loved you, y/n. Of course I did! How could I not love you?“

Tears start to fill your eyes again … but this time for a good reason.

„You are still an asshole for behaving like that, Atreides.“

His smile melted your heart away. „Will you forgive me?“

You nod.

Paul slowly leans towards you and when his lips met yours, there where nothing else to say.

#timothée chalamet #paul atreides #dune movie #dune part one #dune part two #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x you #fluff #protective paul atreides #protective boyfriend #paul atreides angst #light angst #dune fanfic #dune angst #paul atreides kissing #first kiss

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erisenyo · 4 months

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“Oh fuck oh FUCK” + Zukka please!

For this prompt game! (And also this one!) (And this one too lol)

Zuko isn’t sure what posses him to actually say yes when the last hotel calls back to regretfully confirm that there will be no vacancies tonight and the cute mechanic lets up the truly over-the-top flirting to half-shyly offer Zuko a place to stay that night—

“Well, not my house,” Sokka—not Hakoda, going by the wince when Zuko had called him that, even though that’s what’s embroidered over his pocket—says, tugging on his wolf tail, “It’s my dad’s house. But he’s away!” Sokka says, excited and quickly tacking on when he seems to hear himself, “He’s helping out my Gran Gran! So I’m house-sitting! And keeping this place going—”

He waves a hand around the auto shop, making Zuko intensely curious about what Sokka does if not this all the time. He looks good in those overalls...

Not that Zuko has the chance to ask.

“—and so don’t worry, there’s plenty of space. I’m not suggesting you stay in my room—or, well, actually it is my room, but from when I was a kid, not you know, my room. I don’t live there anymore—”

Zuko wonders where he does live, if it’s close to the band’s recording studio, or any of their homes, and Ty Lee is always renting apartments all over the place maybe Zuko could—

“—but it’s still a totally good room still, like quiet but not creepily so, you know? And you can stay there. Or not! Absolutely no pressure, like obviously if you want to keep calling hotels or I mean I guess we could make up the couch in the office, though I wouldn’t recommend it," Sokka adds, frowning at the couch in question. "You end up with this really weird crick in your—”

“Yes,” Zuko interrupts, "Yes, a place to say would be great," he says, putting Sokka out of his misery. Even though he’s been enjoying the rambling train of Sokka’s thoughts all day, and he really shouldn’t impose, and Zuko might feel comfortable after so many hours of Sokka trying to figure out Zuko’s car but he doesn’t actually know the guy, and—

Sokka breaks into a grin, wide and pleased and clearly delighted and Zuko’s stomach flips the way it’s been doing all day and right. Right. That. That’s why Zuko said yes, even though he knows it’s stupid, even though it would be easier to just ask for the guy’s number even if as a rule Zuko doesn’t give out his own. Even though Mai would take one look at Sokka and give Zuko one of those knowing looks of hers and he hates being so predictable but shit, this guy is such his type.

Which means he’s not disappointed when Sokka says, “Awesome, dude! We can grab burritos on the way back!”

Dude.

And burritos.

But Zuko’s not disappointed, he’s not. He’s…relieved. To have a place to stay tonight that’s not a dubious-looking couch, or the back of his own barely-fits-two-people car. And to not be recognized—not that he ever is—because the last thing he needs on top of his car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, meaning he’s absolutely going to miss his flight—shit, Uncle is going to be so disappointed…—is to be dealing with fans.

Pestering him for info about the rest of the Dangerous Ladies, or trying to sniff out rumors about the relationships they’re all convinced are happening within the band, or hating him for breaking Mai’s heart as if it wasn’t mutual and years ago anyway. and they’re still in the band so clearly it’s fine, Mai didn’t even write that song, and—

And it’s fine. Zuko doesn’t even know what he was worried about in the first place. For someone with a massive facial scar, he's proven shockingly unrecognizable without a flaming guitar in his hands. Which is fine. Exactly how he likes it.

So what if he almost never gets his own posters of magazine covers? So what if he's tucked off to the side or in the back of all the official merch and the band has a running collection of all the albums and magazine covers and t-shirts that inexplicably end up with a price sticker over his and only his face?

It’s better than getting mobbed every time he leaves the house like Azula and getting pelted with rumors like Ty Lee and having his every expression scrutinized like Mai. It's better than having every outfit analyzed and every tilt of his head breathlessly redescribed and every photo and appearance and sighting on the street turned into screenshots and phone backgrounds and gif sets and spank bank material, better than everyone he meets tripping to fall into his bed and—

Really. It’s better.

“Here it is, the humble abode!” Sokka gives Zuko an uncertain flash of a smile as holds open the door, like he thinks someone who drives a Porsche so tricked out Sokka had had to psych himself up to actually touch it is going to judge a well-loved ranch house, which…well. Maybe isn’t such a bad assumption.

Zuko hastily makes sure his expression is set into something attentive and interested, his June is talking face, as Azula calls it.

“You’ve got your kitchen here,” Sokka says, flicking on a light to show the worn, comfortable-looking space. “Glasses are over the sink, snacks are in the fridge and in the tall cabinet if you need anything. There’s some leftovers in the freezer you can reheat, too, if you want. Oven, microwave, all the good stuff, you just, you know. Hit the buttons, and—”

And Sokka is clearly back to nervous rambling, because Zuko doesn’t think he’s going to need to eat for the rest of the week after finishing that burrito. A fucking burrito. Ugh, if there’s ever a less sexy food, and then to eat so much of it nervously pacing Sokka that Zuko actually contemplated whether he could subtly unbutton his jeans in the car…

“…and the bedrooms are this way, and the bathroom—it’s shared, sorry,” Sokka adds, glancing back to give Zuko an apologetic look. Zuko hastily jerks his eyes up off Sokka’s ass. “Probably not what you’re used to, I know. But it’s just you and me, so it won’t be too bad!”

“It’s perfect,” Zuko says, trying for a smile and blinking when Sokka just coughs, a blush staining his cheeks as he quickly gets back to his tour.

“Extra blankets and stuff are here,” Sokka says, rapping on a closed door. “Towels, pillows, the works. There should be some extra shampoo and soap and stuff in there too, if you need it.”

“Sounds like you have everything covered,” Zuko says, hearing the awkward edge of his words but still trying to reach for some of the joking, playful easiness of earlier today. “Quite the full-service auto shop you’re running.”

“Uh…yeah.” Sokka freezes a little, eyes wide, which…great. Zuko isn’t surprised he missed the mark, but still. He thought he’s at least better these days than when Azula firmly told him he was no longer allowed to speak in interviews until he could be sure he wasn’t going to end up in another bloopers reel.

“Anyway!” Sokka finally says, shaking himself, his voice coming out suddenly squeaky, which— “Here’s your room, have a good night, make yourself comfy I’ll seeyoutomorrow!”

Zuko blinks again, nonplussed. Did Sokka just...run away? In his own home?

"That's that then," Zuko sighs ruefully—the flirting had been so outrageous that Zuko couldn’t quite believe it was actually real, so—giving the closed door Sokka had disappeared behind one last look before slipping into his room.

Which is very much a teenager’s room, holy—Zuko nearly laughs as he realizes why Sokka was so quick to make that clear. And a well-lived in one, at that, LEGOs on the shelves and cheap trophies for science fairs lined up across the dresser, half-faded posters and clipped-out pictures tacked over the walls and old art supplies still scattered over the desk.

It's cluttered and eclectic and...cute. Cute in the same way Sokka is cute, and he’d probably hate being called that which just makes Zuko want to do it even more, Zuko’s lips curled again into the little smile he feels like he's been wearing all day as he sprawls back on the neatly-made twin bed and immediately makes eye contact with himself.

On the ceiling.

Shirtless.

Life-sized.

Zuko’s mind immediately supplies the details—that Rolling Stones cover shoot for their third album, right before Zuko had turned twenty, when he was still somehow managing to keep up his martial arts training because who needed sleep, definitely not him. He and Ty Lee had been goofing off while Mai and Azula got their makeup finished, flexing their muscles and trying to out-flexible each other and the photographer had loved it and had them run with it, who could pose the most creatively with the most outrageously flexed muscles and —

Zuko slowly closes his mouth and rapidly reconsiders that whole ‘not recognized’ thing...

Sokka is giving his teeth the most thorough, most frustrated brush of his life—ugh, burritos. Why did he suggest burritos—when he nearly chokes on his toothpaste as he suddenly realizes that he just put Zuko Hua in his— “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

Oh…fuck.

Katara is never going to let him live this down.

He is so, so fucked.

#asks and answers #prompt games #Not me suddenly having inspiration that fit uhhh 3 months later lol #fic writing #my writing #Sokka #Zuko #Zukka #Zukka fic #Rockstar Zuko AU

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yournowheregirl · 1 year

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my mind’s been stuck on secret dolly parton fan southern!eddie and suddenly it sprouted 2k of fic so uhhh here ya go? more to follow! (unbeta’d btw) [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 1: jolene

He might not look it, but deep down, hidden beneath the leather jackets and silver chains, Eddie Munson is a good old-fashioned southern boy. If you heard his uncle talk, you’d know he’s not from around Hawkins, but Eddie has mostly hidden his roots over the years. He had traded in his faded blue jeans for ripped black ones, his momma’s country vinyls were hidden away and replaced by heavy metal tapes and his drawl only comes out when he’s drunk out of his mind, calling everyone darlin’ and sweet pea.

He misses Tennessee sometimes, though he doesn’t remember much. He misses the warmth of the people and the sunshine, he misses the cornbread his old neighbor Mrs. Carter used to make, but he mostly misses his mom. Misses her laugh and the way she tucked him into bed with a song every night, always with the same Dolly Parton song.

Maybe that’s why he always reaches out to Dolly when he’s feeling down in the dumps.

And all because of Steve motherfuckin’ Harrington.

He doesn’t really know when it started exactly. Maybe it was back in high school, when Steve just filled out those gym shorts way too nicely. Maybe it was that summer when Eddie kept wandering through Starcourt Mall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Steve in that damn sailor outfit. Maybe it was going through hell and back and somehow coming out alive, matching demobat scars and all.

He doesn’t know when, all he knows he’s halfway in love with Steve and it’s frustrating to say the least.

Frustrating because he and Steve are somehow friends now and friends apparently talk each other’s ears off about their respective love lives. Including Steve’s endless supply of flirtations with girls at Family Video, just like today.

Steve’s been sweet talking some girl named Emily for the past twenty minutes now, really laying it on thick. Telling her how nice this shirt looks on her, how pretty her eyes look, how she really should find someone to watch Sixteen Candles with. Eddie turns away so that Steve won’t see the way his eyes roll at yet another one of Emily’s adorable little giggles.

It’s not even justified, the nasty feeling in his stomach, the green snake of jealousy that slithers around his throat. It’s not like Steve is actually his. He’s just Eddie's friend. Eddie’s great, very straight, very much ladies’ man, friend. So Eddie keeps his mouth shut, grips his copy of The Thing a little tighter and pushes that feeling way deep down as the bell dings and Emily disappears through the door.

“Ha! Harrington’s back, baby!” Steve exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“What are we celebrating?” Eddie asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Got a date this Friday.” Steve grins. He wiggles a piece of paper in between his fingers, probably with Emily’s phone number scribbled on it.

“Nice.” Eddie says with a tight smile, hoping to God that Steve’s still too smitten to notice the way his body has gone all rigid.

“Yeah, she’s pretty nice isn’t she?” Steve sighs happily. “Just hope she’s the one, y’know? I’m so tired of all those first dates, asking about each other’s siblings and favorite colors and I just… yeah, I just hope she’ll be the one.”

“Rooting for you, man.” Eddie says and oh my God, what kind of bro talk is that? Eddie wants to kick himself, but he just looks away instead, dropping the VHS on the counter.

“Thanks!”

And he just looks so happy. His eyes glistening with hope, his lips (oh god his lips) turned into a victorious smile, his entire body just exuding confidence. Eddie really shouldn’t be mad at him, not when he looks like that.

Instead Eddie spends the entire drive back to the trailer park fuming and thinking of little miss ‘I-Hope-She’s-The-One’ Emily. Now, his momma raised him to be a gentleman but that vicious snake that made itself home in his stomach makes him want set fire to Emily’s stupidly perfect pleaded skirts.

He’s so pissed off that he misses the exit that leads to Forest Hill, and instead he just keeps on driving. Past the luxurious villas, past the wide open fields, past the Leaving Hawkins sign. He doesn’t know where he’s going exactly, he just knows he has to leave.

He only stops when it starts to turn dark outside and he spots a few warm lamps just on the side of the road. After closer inspection, it turns out to be a roadside bar, hidden away beneath some trees. Eddie’s stomach rumbles and he realizes that he hadn’t eaten since noon, so he parks the van and walks towards the bar, aptly named Off-Road.

Once Eddie steps inside, it’s like he’s suddenly back in Tennessee. He’s seeing men in flannel, shooting whiskey at the bar. Women in plaid dresses, dancing along to some honky-tonk song that’s playing on the radio. The wall decorated with all kinds of things that just scream Americana, old-faded photos of farms, a row of cowboy hats, an acoustic guitar on the wall.

He can’t believe what he's seeing, so he almost stumbles over his own feet as he makes his way to the bar.

“Hiya kid. What can I get ya?”

Eddie looks up to see a small, but buff woman standing behind the bar. Her silver hair is cropped short and pulled back by a red bandana and the tassels on her leather vest swivel as she cleans a glass with a dishrag.

“Uh, just a Coke, I guess?” Eddie says. “Do you also serve food?”

“Yeah, mac ’n cheese’s on the menu today.” The woman smiles, busying herself with finding a bottle of coke beneath the counter. “What’s your name kid? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Eddie.”

“Nice to meet ya, Eddie. My name’s Pat.” Her voice is low and silky smooth, with the southern twang Eddie only hears when his uncle talks. “You from around here?”

“Hawkins.” Eddie nods. “But originally from Tennessee.”

Pat’s face lights up. “No way! Me too! Small world.”

“Yeah, it really is.” Eddie says. “Pat, can I ask… what is this place?”

“Oh this ol’ place?” Pat laughs. “This is just a lil’ home away from home. I’ve moved here for Tish, she’s the one in the green dress over there.” She waves towards the other side of the bar, where a woman with dark curls is scrubbing one of the tables. “But I’ve always missed home, y’know? So, we started this place a couple of years ago,

“You and Tish are…” Eddie trails off, not sure if he’s put the right puzzle pieces together.

“Tish is my partner, yes.” Pat’s smile fades and gets replaced with a stern look. “You got a problem with that kid?”

“No!” Eddie says quickly, waving his hands in protest. “No, not at all. I’m… I’m also gay, y’know.”

“Tish!” Pat calls out, smiling when Tish looks up. “We got another one!”

“Stop adopting gay kids, Pat!” Tish calls back. “We’re running out of rooms!”

Eddie laughs. He’s gonna like it here.

-xxx-

After Pat’s absolutely heavenly mac ’n cheese, Eddie finds himself relax more and more and for the first time, he lets out his accent without any alcohol in his system. It’s not like anyone will make fun of him for it here, he thinks that Pat probably would encourage him to be as southern as he can be.

He chats with Pat and Tish and some of the other patrons as the time ticks by. Swapping stories about back down south, laughing at things the people here in Indiana just don’t understand, Eddie’s never felt more at home.

Tish suddenly excuses herself as the bluegrass music on the speakers fades away. Eddie watches as she walks to the little podium in the far back of the bar and announces that the open mic night has begun and that anyone can join. An older man immediately jumps up and grabs the guitar off the wall and starts playing a song that Eddie vaguely remembers from back home.

“D’you play, kid?” Pat asks. “You look like you play.”

“Yeah, guitar.” Eddie replies. “Not like this though.”

“I figured.” Pat snorts. “You don’t really seem like the Willie Nelson type. But you’re welcome to step up and play us something.”

Eddie hesitates. Pat’s right, the music he normally plays doesn’t really fit in here. This is not the Hideout, this is not the place for screaming bloody murder about the injustices of the world and headbang while Gareth smashes the drums.

Still, he’s feeling strangely drawn to the podium, especially when his mind provides him with a reminder why he drove away from Hawkins in the first place: Steve and perfect little Emily. And suddenly, he knows exactly what song to play.

“Wish me luck.” Eddie grins at Pat as he stands up from his seat.

“Break a leg, Eddie.” Pat winks and shoots him an encouraging smile.

Eddie makes his way to the other side of the bar, patiently waiting until the older man finishes his song and whooping with excitement once he plays the final chord. The older man smiles at him, grateful, and hands the guitar over to him as Eddie sits down on the stool in front of the microphone.

“Uh, good evenin’ everyone.” Eddie says into the microphone. “It’s my first time here, actually and I, uh, I don’t even know if I can play this song, but let’s try, shall we?”

The room is eerily quiet as Eddie tries to remember the chords from so long ago, the chords his momma used to play on warm summer days in their backyard.

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene… I’m beggin’ of ya, please don’t take my man.”

The words feel foreign and yet strangely familiar in his mouth. It’s been so long since he heard this song, but the words just flow out of him easily

“He talks about you in his sleep and there’s nothing I can do to keep from cryin’ when he calls your name, Jolene.” Eddie’s voice is soft, softer than it’s ever been as he tries so hard to push away the images of Steve and Emily, happily together. “And I can easily understand how you could easily take my man. But you don’t know what he means to me, Jolene.”

It feels good, cathartic even, to sing this song. Maybe even better than screaming along to Metallica’s latest album. Not that he’ll ever admit that to anyone, but it’s the truth. There’s no other song right now that understands exactly what he’s going through, that says the things that he wants to say but can’t, not out loud anyway.

“Please don’t take him even though you can…”

Eddie plays a few more chords until he finally lets the song fade out and the bar burst out into the applause. It’s not the biggest applause he’s ever had (apparently murder charges does wonders for forming a crowd at the Hideout), but it’s definitely in the top three of best post-performance feelings of his life. Maybe because these people just get him, maybe because he can just sing about his feelings for Steve out in the open and no one will judge him or ask any questions about it.

“You got some real talent, kid.” Pat nods as Eddie slides back onto his bar stool.“You’re welcome to come back and sing a little Dolly for us anytime.”

Eddie’s certain that he will.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #listen this is just my dolly loving brain projecting onto eddie #let my boy love country music okay???#stranger things #alice's writing adventures

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shadowtriovibes · 11 months

Note

Hi, could I request a oneshot of female!MC in a toxic relationship and Sebastian angry/in protect mode after seeing a bruise on her, and going after her bf? As he confronts him he reveals his love for her in his heightened emotions. MC catches up in time to overhear everything and to stop Sebastian from killing him. Ending with fluff and MC ditching him for Bash?

Thank you, I love your blog!! 💖

hello anon! thanks for the request — obviously the topic is a little sensitive so please mind the tags before reading! 🤍

a guy like you should wear a warning

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 2.5k

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, magical fights and physical fights, Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort

“You know why I’m here,” he says simply. “Did you seriously think you wouldn’t have to answer for that? She’s bruised.” A brief flicker of fear passes over the boy’s face as sparks fly out of the end of Sebastian’s wand, but quickly it’s smoothed over with a haughty grin. “So she told you, is that it?” the boy asks. “Poor thing, I should’ve known the ‘hero of Hogwarts’ couldn’t take one fight before running off to her little guard dog.” “You call that a fight?” Sebastian demands. “Looked a little one-sides to me.”

It’s bad enough that Sebastian has gotten used to seeing you confidently wear the collection of scars you’ve accumulated during your time at Hogwarts.

In fact, the very first time he’d met you, he’d noticed the thin scar that runs from your eyebrow down to the middle of your cheek. It’s the first thing that most people notice about you when they first meet you, he assumes, which is frankly an insult to your eyes.

Eventually you told him that your scar had come from an attack you’d withstood back in London – the very attack that brought Professor Fig to you in the first place, and that had resulted in you learning about at Hogwarts. Some of Rockwood’s men had tried to corner you just off Diagon Alley when it had occurred, and while Wiggenweld had been helpful in making sure you didn’t lose your sight in that eye, the swift Diffindo you’d taken to the face would always leave a mark.

You’ve also got a burn on your forearm from a particularly rough round of Cross Wands. Sebastian loathes that he’s responsible for it, even though you insist that you’ve grown to rather like it.

“It’s a badge of honor,” you joke, delighted by his residual guilt. “I’ll always remember that I ended up winning that round, won’t I?”

There are countless others, too: a thin scar by your lip where a particularly aggressive poacher had decked you while wearing an ostentatious ring, a fading mark on your ankle from angry Mongrel’s bite, and a small round burn from the tip of an Ashwinder wand right above your left hip that he’d only once caught a glimpse of.

By now Sebastian has seen just about every mark on you. (Hell, he was there when you got half of them.)

However, that familiarity means he’s quickly able to spot when there’s a new mark on you — especially where one shouldn’t be.

That morning at breakfast, he’s too preoccupied by the lush pile of cinnamon scones in front of him to get a good look at you when he first arrives. Given that he’s simply rubbish at Astrology, he’d been up late charting the stars to prepare for his N.E.W.T.s and had only just arrived near the tail end of the meal.

He’s already shoved half a scone in his mouth before he realizes Ominis is sitting beside you looking grim, one hand gently resting on your shoulder. On your other side, Anne is murmuring quiet reassurances to you while you press a cold compress to the right side of your face.

“It’s not that bad,” Anne says softly. “Just dab some Wiggenweld on it and it won’t even leave a scar.”

“Merlin, what happened to you this time?” Sebastian asks.

Anne shoots him a warning look as you sheepishly lift your head, gently removing the compress to show off an angry red laceration on your cheek. He hisses sharply – that looks like it hurts.

“It’s a long story,” you mumble.

“I’ve got time,” Sebastian says easily.

He hopes he’ll hear another story about how you’d been unable to sleep so you slipped out in the middle of the night to take on a lingering poacher camp, or maybe you’d attempted to sneak one of your baby Graphorns into one of the last remaining dens along the Clagmar Coast and failed to avoid detection.

Instead, you just avert your eyes.

“W-well, I guess it’s not really a story,” you murmur. “I was just running late to breakfast this morning and I, um… tripped, and those stairs are harder than they look.”

Sebastian frowns. You don’t keep many secrets from each other these days, but he can still recognize when you’re not telling the truth. Besides, that rapidly-bruising cut is clearly from a smack to the face, not a tumble down the stairs.

Anne pointedly clears her throat and takes the compress from your hand, tenderly pressing it to your cheek without another word.

When Sebastian looks across to Ominis, he’s surprised to see his friend’s sightless eyes peering back at him purposefully before he subtly shakes his head.

Not many people know that Ominis has quietly been studying Legilimency for several years. It was actually Professor Hecat who had suggested it in the first place, noting that his inability to interpret body language made dueling significantly more dangerous for him. Obviously saw Legilimency as a tactical advantage, but for Ominis, it was something infinitely more nuanced – a form of magic that his family hadn’t tainted, to start.

Indeed, Sebastian is surprised that his closest friend would have invaded your mind without your explicit consent, but he would be the first to admit that if he had such a skill, he would have done the same thing.

A beat later, Sebastian hears his best friend’s voice echo inside his head as he says, She didn’t fall. It was him.

His vision goes red, and his hand is on his wand before he even realizes what he’s doing.

“Bash,” Anne warns as he stands up from the table. “Don’t.”

“W-what are you doing?” you ask quietly, and as you peer up at him, the compress slips down your face.

As soon as he sees your wound again, there’s nothing anyone at that table could possibly say that would stop him from tracking down that sanctimonious Gryffindor prick you’ve been dating for the past few months.

Sebastian had been quite shocked indeed when you’d announced that you had started dating a boy you’d met in Hogsmeade near the start of term. Of course, the shock stemmed from the fact that you were apparently the last of your little quartet to learn that Sebastian was hopelessly in love with you.

You remained ignorant and had let that smooth-talking, arrogant twat into your circle without so much as a second thought, Sebastian had thought bitterly. He’d had to watch miserably as you spent less and less time with your fellow Slytherins in favor of being plied with attention from him and his cacophonous troupe of utter wankers.

Of course, Sebastian knew he was only dating you because you were the “hero of Hogwarts” and not because he actually liked you. He’d tried to tell you that once, and predictably it had gone rather horribly.

(Specifically, you’d hexed him so hard that he’d had to spend the night in the hospital wing because he couldn’t stop belching up flames).

But now it seems like his motives have shifted. He didn’t just want to date you – he wanted to control you.

Maybe you had indeed snuck out the night before, hoping to simply have some time alone with your thoughts while you patrolled for stray camps on your broom. And perhaps when you overslept and arrived late to breakfast, he pulled you aside and said that he was sick of waiting up for you, that it makes him look bad in front of his friends, like you don’t respect him. And maybe for good measure, he’d told you that you may have more powerful magic than him, but he certainly doesn’t need a wand to remind you of your place.

A quick glance at the long Gryffindor table across the room informs Sebastian that your boyfriend is long gone, perhaps anticipating that bruising you like that will come with swift consequences. Ignoring Anne’s protests and Ominis’ gentle warning to stick to legal spells, please, he stomps off toward the Grand Staircase.

Ultimately he tracks down the rotten sod in the Transfiguration courtyard, pompously leaning on the fountain like he doesn’t have a very precise bounty on his head.

“Get up, you feckless git,” Sebastian growls.

He’s already drawn his wand, and the rest of your gutless Gryffindor’s posse quickly scatters several meters away.

“Sallow,” he drawls. “What’s the problem today?”

It’s no secret that Sebastian is not a fan of the boy, though Ominis frequently bends over backward trying to encourage him to be polite for your sake.

“You know why I’m here,” he says simply. “Did you seriously think you wouldn’t have to answer for that? She’s bruised.”

A brief flicker of fear passes over the boy’s face as sparks fly out of the end of Sebastian’s wand, but quickly it’s smoothed over with a haughty grin.

“So she told you, is that it?” the boy asks. “Poor thing, I should’ve known the ‘hero of Hogwarts’ couldn’t take one fight before running off to her little guard dog.”

“You call that a fight?” Sebastian demands. “Looked a little one-sided to me.”

“You and I both know that if she’s wanted to, she could have tossed me into the air and slammed me right into the ground without lifting her wand,” the boy reminds him, standing up from the fountain and slowly reaching for his own wand. “But she knows better.”

Oh, Sebastian is sincerely going to enjoy this, he thinks.

Before the other boy can properly aim at Sebastian, he quickly casts a merciless Depulso at him and sends him skidding into the fountain – but not before crashing into the tranquil Wyvern statue that sits in the middle.

When he emerges, waterlogged and swearing up a storm, he sends a vicious Descendo across the courtyard to Sebastian.

Of course, Sebastian Sallow didn’t earn his title of reigning champion of Cross Wands by being unable to dodge such a simple spell.

The next curse he casts burns hot when it’s expelled from his wand.

“Confringo!” he shouts.

Flames flicker at the edges of your boyfriend’s robes and he yelps, panicked, before clumsily stamping out the fire with his soaked cloak.

Sebastian gives him no time to recover. “Flipendo!”

He goes sailing through the air and lands in the grass at the base of a gnarled tree, his wand abandoned by the fountain.

“You’re pathetic, Sallow,” he taunts. “All this for some whiny little slag?”

All of a sudden there’s a taste in Sebastian’s mouth that sends him reeling. It’s metallic, like blood, and stings a bit like an electric current. He remembers that taste – it precedes an urge he hasn’t felt in years, a spell he swore he’d never let cross his lips ever again. But it’s there, begging to be cast, practically daring him to silence your tormenter permanently.

He stomps over to the spineless, hunched-over prick with his wand drawn, pointed squarely at the boy’s chest.

But then he hears your voice call out, “Bash, stop!”

Both boys turn just in time to see you dash down the stairs into the courtyard, Anne and Ominis on your heels.

“Stop,” you repeat, and Sebastian can see that you’re trembling. “He’s not worth it.”

He murmurs your name, distracted just enough to lower his wand almost imperceptibly. Unfortunately, it’s enough for the boy beneath him to roll out of his aim and pull himself to his feet. Then he swings at Sebastian, disarmed and desperate.

Sebastian tastes very real blood in his mouth this time — his lip has split, he realizes.

Then he laughs, which unsettles just about every onlooker in the courtyard.

“Mate, you can hit me all you’d like,” Sebastian says dryly. “But I haven’t got any compunction about hitting you back.”

For someone who generally agrees with Ominis that wandless violence is uncouth and uninspired, Sebastian packs a mean punch. He hears the twat’s nose break as he collapses to the ground in a heap, evidently knocked out cold.

Anne gasps. Ominis sighs, dissatisfied.

You, however, are completely silent.

“He deserved it,” are the first words out of Sebastian’s mouth.

As he carefully flexes the fingers of his bloodied hand, he adds, “He deserved much worse, actually.

“Sebastian, that’s enough,” Anne hisses. “You won, let’s just drop it.”

He desperately rakes his hand through his messy curls. Once he catches his breath, he carefully approaches you.

You look frozen in place — in fact, you’ve hardly moved a muscle since Sebastian had called out to you.

“I didn’t want you to see that,” he says quietly. “But I meant it. He dared to lay a finger on you, he had to answer for it.”

You nod carefully and barely flinch when Sebastian lifts a finger to trace along your bruised cheek.

“Bash,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says quickly, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“I’m sorry you had to handle him,” you say softly. “I wanted to, I would have, I just... At first I wasn’t even sure if it was real. I couldn’t believe that someone who loved me would say things like that to me, or hit me like that.”

Without thinking, Sebastian scoffs and says, “He doesn’t love you, I love you.”

Sebastian didn’t think those bewitching eyes of yours could go any wider, but once again he’s wrong.

“W-what?” you stutter.

“I — I just meant, someone who loves you wouldn’t put their hands on you,” he insists, mentally cursing his own existence. “A-and I’d never hurt you, obviously, so–”

“You love me?” you whisper. “Truly, Bash?”

He’d imagined finally telling you the truth so many times, but none of those scenarios involved Ominis, his twin sister and about forty other students watching with bated breath.

“I mean… yeah,” he laughs softly, deciding to reach for an aloofness that might allow him to maintain a shred of dignity. “Thought it was pretty obvious that I’ve been mad about you for ages.”

But before you can respond, you hear Professor Weasley emerge from her classroom and exclaim, “What in Merlin’s name is all this commotion?!”

You take Sebastian’s hand and start to tug him toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower in hopes of sparing him what would surely be several weeks of detention. The rest of the crowd quickly disperses and offers you much-needed cover; fortunately you’re able to spirit Sebastian away up to the Room of Requirement without being stopped.

“Sit,” you instruct him once inside, gesturing to a small round table with mismatched chairs. “You’re still bleeding.”

Sebastian touches his lip as he takes a seat and discovers that it indeed stings. You return with a rag and a bottle of Wiggenweld, dabbing some onto the cloth and gingerly pressing it to his lip.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Sebastian,” you say carefully. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, go on,” he agrees.

You stubbornly wait until he meets your gaze before you ask him, “Did it ever occur to you that there might be a simpler way to tell me that you love me than nearly killing my boyfriend in front of half the school?”

He waits a beat before admitting, “Honestly? Not really.”

You smile ruefully and use the rag to wipe away the rest of the blood around Sebastian’s mouth. Once you inspect his wound and confirm that the potion has firmly sealed up where it had split, you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Before you can pull away, he murmurs against your lips, “But he’s not your boyfriend anymore though, right?”

You simply roll your eyes at him and toss the rag against his chest so he can return the favor.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy fic #my fic #mind the tags please there’s some common triggers

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jasntodds · 5 months

Text

Broken Heart Of Gold [J.T.]

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Request: yes, here

Summary: After Jason messes up on a mission, he goes to you

Warnings: Swearing, hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, self-deprecating thoughts (jason), mentions of previous homelessness, mentions of death

Words: 2,514

A/n: I was listening to You Are Enough by Citizen Soldier and Broken Heart Of Gold by One OK Rock so here we are lol I also have another fic similar to this here because I will write this concept a million times if no one stops me. If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

He’s been doing this for years. He was just thirteen when he first put on the Robin suit. And it was magical.

Being Robin always made Jason feel like he was magic. He was invincible and strong and worthy and enough and important. He had a purpose. For so much of his life, he was the one taking care of his mom and then she died. She died and it left him cold and alone and on the streets. But Robin brought him importance and safety and warmth. Being Robin meant he lived in a home where he was cared for and never asked to care for them. Not that he ever minded caring for his mom because he never did. But it was nice not having to take care of himself, even if he always did anyway. Being Robin gave him freedom and he got to kick ass. He got to go out there and he got to help Batman bring down some of the worst of the worst. He was enough and important. And worthy. But he wasn’t invincible. Because the Joker killed him.

He died and that was that. Robin wasn’t magic or invincible. Robin was just some kid in a mask and cape. But, then a betrayal to death and fate happened and Jason’s alive again. He came back and became Red Hood because the Joker was alive and well, Bruce had a new Robin, and the world left Jason behind.

He came back and it’s as if he wasn’t even wanted. He became Red Hood for people like him. The ones left behind. The ones Bruce won’t help in the way he should. Jason became Red Hood, knowing this life only leads to pain and death, to do what Bruce is too cowardly to do. He became Red Hood to be the voice for all the victims like him. That could have been saved if the hard choices were just made but weren’t. He is their voice and their protector. So, he’s been doing this for years. And the missions that go south, still never get any easier.

There’s a loud thud coming from your window, snapping you from your shallow sleep on the couch. You sit up quickly, your head slightly spinning with the sudden movement and you look over to your window, seeing the reflective red helmet shining back at you in the low light of the city and your apartment.

Jason takes the helmet, a mild quiver to his fingertips. “Sorry.” Jason mutters. “Did I wake you?”

You shake your head, moving to your knees so you can get a better look at him. “No, I was just lying down.” You lie, knowing he hates waking you up and you hadn’t been asleep more than twenty minutes anyway.

“That’s good.” Jason clears his throat but he hasn’t made any attempt to get up off the floor or make direct eye contact with you.

It’s all feeling heavy. His head, his eyes, his limps. Everything around him feels like it’s starting to close in. The adrenaline is crashing and everything feels like it’s about to suck the last breath from his lungs. It all hurts and aches and he usually handles it well, the injuries just come with the territory. He’s used to the pain but then nights like tonight happen and everything hurts. Every passed injury is echoing in pain, coming back for vengeance. The autopsy scars burn even though they shouldn’t, his face feels numb even though those injuries have been long healed from the pit. Every haunted injury comes back with a shattering echo.

“Jay?” You ask softly, trying to get him to look at you.

Usually, when Jason comes back from patrol, he's injured in some capacity. But, most of the time, he has this grin anyway that could light up Gotham's darkest alleyways. It's always a little cheeky and always a little arrogant. And charming. Because he went out and he did something good, for people who can't help themselves. His eyes are usually bright, blue and bold with enough energy to power your apartment. Those are the times he usually comes to you but then sometimes, like tonight, it's like every ghost comes back and takes over. The light is gone from his eyes and it's as if he's physically incapable of managing even a fake reassuring smile. It's these nights that are always the most worrisome because you know Jason has a habit of beating himself up relentlessly when something bad happens.

For a second, he’s not sure why he showed up here. You always clean him up and stitch him up. You’ve been doing it since he was Robin. A routine because you always understood when he needed to talk or sit in silence. But tonight, he’s not even feeling like he’s worthy of the kindness that radiates from your unbroken bones. He doesn’t think he deserves the help you always offer and the understanding because he failed tonight. And it was his fault. It was so bad that his jaw clenches as his heart starts to thunder.

"Are you okay?" You keep your voice soft, just above a whisper as if speaking too loudly will shatter him entirely.

His breath hitches in his throat with the question. He nearly shatters into a billion pieces right into your carpet. Jason Todd, on a good day, is rarely ever really okay but tonight it’s so much worse. He’s trapped in a harsh reality of what he does every night and he’s trapped in his own head, haunted by every passed mistake he’s ever made. Is he doing the right thing? Is this the only way? Is Bruce right? Maybe he is fucked up and maybe he never should have been brought back. Maybe those people would be alive right now if it weren’t for him.

Jason swallows his own heartbeat, a task that feels more like swallowing river rocks. "Yeah, I'm fine." His words are short and brittle while a redness starts to wash over his eyes.

You nod slowly before you get up from your spot on the couch. Jason watches you carefully and he knows you’re about to offer him the care he swears up and down he does not deserve. You crouch in front of him, resting your hands on his knees. Jason nearly pulls away but he knows it would hurt you if he did and he doesn’t want to cause anyone else any more pain. Not tonight.

“You don’t look fine.” You say softly as you tilt your head to the right. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jason nods as his mouth runs dry. “A few places.”

“Okay so I’ll get the kit and you can move the couch.”

“You don’t have to fucking help, alright? I don’t know why I came here.” Jason huffs but it's weak and ragged, forced as if speaking is too much of a task.

“You always come to me for help, Jay.” Your voice is kind and gentle as your thumbs lightly run over his knees.

“I know but I’ve already stained your carpet and couch. It’s late and you have work. I’ll just go home. It’s fine.” Jason shakes his head, his eyes plastered where your hands meet his knees.

“I don’t mind.” You shrug as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Taking care of you, I mean. It doesn’t bother me.” You offer him a soft smile once he glances up to you. “And Alfred told me how to get the stains out so…you really wanna use that as an excuse or you gonna let him help you?”

Jason lets out a sigh. “I don’t know.” There's a quiver in his voice.

You tap his head lightly with your finger, Jason's eyes finally locking on yours. "What's going on up there?"

You were on the streets together before he got lucky, well, depending how you want to look at it. You've known him for years and Jason has always been the one who wants better for people, Robin and Red Hood just gave him the opportunity to actually help those people. But, with that, he's also been the person who doesn't really know his worth or believes he's enough. A lot of things have happened, a lot of people have come and gone to nail those thoughts into the deepest parts of his mind. Those are always the thoughts that tend to be the ones that stick, even if they aren't true and you know they aren't.

You know Jason has a heart of gold and always has, always will. He thinks dying charged a part of that because sometimes, it feels like he should still be dead. So, he beats his heart out of his chest until he shatters into pieces, the shards always ricocheting back at him. He breaks his own heart because he thinks he deserves it, scattering the pieces in hopes the pain will always be true to what he deserves. But, you come around and pick up the pieces anyway because you always knew he was enough and worthy and important. You always knew that Jason would do what was best, for him and for other people who needed help.

"I got a damn cipher wrong and I was too late." Jason's voice finally cracks, his words harsh and aimed at himself.

His eyes always turn to almost a navy blue whenever he starts crying. It doesn't happen often, at least not around you, but you notice it. It's as if the emotional turmoil takes over every part of him stripping him of the liviness he usually has and that includes the brightness of his eyes. And it breaks your heart every time.

Jason has always had a thing about not being enough. He wasn't enough for either of his parents to stop using or enough for his dad to stick around, get a legal job. He wasn't enough for Bruce. A lot of people have tried over the years for him and tried with good intentions to just genuinely help because he deserved to be happy and healthy and safe but for some reason, it was never enough. Something else would happen and it'd mess it all up and the only one who ever got hurt in the mess was Jason. He's mentioned, a handful of times, maybe it was just him. Destined to like this forever. But you never saw it that way.

"I'm sorry, Jay." You brush the white streak of hair out of his eyes. "Do you wanna talk about it?" You ask, your brows pulled together.

You never saw him as not enough or damaged. He's an asshole, sure, but he's also kind and forgiving. He just wants to help people. Even when you were kids, questioning where your next meal was coming from, he'd try to help other kids if he could. It's what he did. It's what he does. You found out he was Robin and all you could do was laugh because the whole vigilante thing really fit him. Maybe not the way Bruce wanted things done, but helping people who the GCPD can't or won't help. But, even beyond being a vigilante, he's your favorite person. And you wouldn't trade him for the entire world. You desperately wish he could see himself through your eyes. Maybe it would help on nights like tonight.

"No." Jason scoffs, shaking his head. "No, I don't wanna talk or think about it anymore."

"Okay." You shrug casually, knowing he'll talk in bits and pieces later. "So, why don't we get you cleaned up and stitched up then we lay down. We can watch something or I can read to you until you fall asleep. Your choice." You offer him a gentle and kind smile.

"I don't wanna keep you up later. You'll be late for work again." Jason huffs, guilty pulling at the pit of his stomach.

You shrug, giving him a cheeky grin. "Eh, yeah, I can take some PTO." Your face suddenly lights up. "What if I take PTO and we go to Petsmart tomorrow, pick up some food and we go see the kittens at the shelter? If we bring in food, we can hang out with them for a little while."

The excitement in your voice gets Jason to crack a small and fragile smile. You know how much he likes cats. It's a silly offer, maybe, but it is nice and Jason will never understand why you try to hard to make him feel better, even when he thinks he doesn't deserve it. But, he does know, he is thankful for you anyway,

"That's how you wanna spend your precious time off?" Jason's voice is rough this time but it doesn't crack.

"With you and like twenty kittens? Yes." You nod quickly. "And I think you need it, anyway." Your smile falls into something comforting and honest. It feels like home. "Hanging out with animals is good for your mental health."

"Really?" Jason raises a brow at you.

"Oh, are you gonna tell me you're not beating yourself up and thinking you're the worst? You're not. I think you're the best but I know you well enough to know you don't think so when something happens." You suck in a breath, your hands sliding over his knees a few times. "So, we go hang out with some kittens and you'll feel a little better to tell me what happened and then I'll tell you that you still did your best."

"How do you even know that?" Jason scoffs, dodging your eyes again as the guilt starts pulling on his vocal cords.

"Because you always try your best." You answer simply. "It's not always easy, Jay and it's not always gonna work out. But, you always try and that's enough." You place your hand on his cheek, getting him to look at you. "So, what'd ya say?" The corner of your mouth perks up into a gentle and hopeful smile.

The last thing he wants to do is disappoint you, let someone else down. But, he also knows, deep down, that you do it because you care and you really believe everything you tell him. All you want to do is be there for him and maybe it does take some of the weight off of his shoulders. When he's carrying the world, you stand under it with him. And when he's taking a hammer to his own heart, you yank the hammer away and swap it out with glue, helping him put it back together. And on nights like tonight, he's not sure where he'd up if it weren't for you.

Jason nods softly, taking your hand in his. "Yeah, alright, thanks." Jason leans closer, resting his forehead against yours.

"Of course, Jay." You press a quick kiss to his nose. "Now, come on, lemme help you." You get to your feet and offer your hands to help Jason up.

He shakes his head, his chest still feeling heavy but knowing you'll always be here makes things easier. So, he sticks out of his own hands and encompasses yours in his before he stands up.

Tag list: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonsss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duckk// @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #requests #request

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cinnbar-bun · 2 months

Text

The Heartless Giant Pt. 4

Pairing: Crocodile x GN! Royal! Reader

Rating: SFW-ish (some suggestive comments wink wink)

Word Count: ~2.5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 AO3

Taglist: @gingernut1314 @fanaticsnail @leafyturtle @pookiesnatcher @lolom

You can’t help but be attracted to his eyes. Those dark eyes that promise nothing but pain, that hold nothing but emptiness inside. His words repeat in your mind over and over.

“But don’t keep me waiting too long, dear.”

His insistence that you did not need an excuse to visit him and that companionship was desirable replayed. You wonder briefly what it would be like if those eyes of his could have some light. If those eyes could ever reflect anything besides apathy, coldness, or arrogance.

How wonderful it would be to be the reason his eyes have light again…

To be the one to bring it back to him…

It’s shameful, wishful thinking, but in your rather boring life, he colors your mind with fascinating thoughts. Some of them are morbidly curious, but they are far more interesting and stimulating than anything from before. With only a few visits, he had imprinted himself in your mind and made you start to dream of things you never dared to before.

One could start to get the impression you were becoming fond of Crocodile.

Oh, Crocodile… what a strange name. But the more you say it, associate the word with him, the more it fits him.

Big, imposing, quiet, yet so, so ferocious- his name fits him far too well.

Violent tendencies contained within a barely held monster of a man. It’s far too dangerous but also brings a certain amount of imagination you cannot deny yourself.

You wonder how he fought your father. What he was like in Alabasta. What he looked like when he was younger. Who gave him those scars? Who cut his hand off and made him need the hook? Just what havoc could he have wrecked upon your brothers if he was not occupied caring for you and giving them the opportunity to escape?

These thoughts plague you, morning and night. You almost want to go ask your father directly about Crocodile, but you know the dangers of that. You know you could be inviting something awful by bringing up that man’s existence in front of your father. He’s already been suspicious of your behavior the last few days, you didn’t need to hand him the reason on a silver platter.

That thought reminded you of just how silly you were acting over Crocodile. If you couldn’t even discuss this with your own father for fear of his reaction, you shouldn’t even be down there in the first place.

So you waited. A few days pass, forcing you to occupy your time and acknowledge the pros and cons of seeing Crocodile again. The cons were clear and obvious, but the doubts, the ‘what-ifs’, the copious amounts of hope you were attempting to have in order to possibly justify another minute of him, always overshadowed the rational parts of you. You were already in too deep to back out now. Not when you couldn’t shove away all the questions you had wanted to ask him about.

It was now the sixth night since you last saw Crocodile. If you went down now, would he possibly chastise you for not visiting in a while? Would he assume the worst? Or would he be grateful?

Well, he’s a lonely prisoner, you think, it’s not like he has any other people to talk to. He would probably appreciate your presence, if anything. Although the moon is at its highest point in the sky, you can’t possibly sleep, not with these thoughts. This time, you go to your closet and quickly grab a wrap to cover your shoulders over your nightclothes.

You do the same thing as before, taking a peek out the door before dashing to the bottom cellar. Thankfully, the freezing air is not as sharp thanks to the thicker wrap around you. You take more careful steps down the stairs towards him, before you hear a low chuckle.

“Well, well, well… long time no see, your highness,” Crocodile’s voice reaches your ears.

“How did you know?” You ask, seeing as he’s sitting with your back towards you and the fact that you did your best to be quiet. Crocodile motions to his ears, still refusing to turn around.

“I can recognize your footsteps,” he answers. “You have?”

“I don’t hear much else. Your footsteps at least mean I will see something nice for a change,” he laughs, again with that same humorless laugh.

You nod and take a seat on the stone floor in front of the bars. An offering to him.

He freezes then glances at you over his shoulder.

“You’re getting comfortable,” he comments rhetorically. “So, why did you come today?”

He still hasn’t turned around. “I felt bad.”

“Heh. You felt bad? You felt bad for a criminal? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?” “I can always just leave you alone,” you retort. “I thought you were the one talking about ‘companionship’ and what not last time.”

“Oh please, you didn’t come down here just because you felt pity for me.”

“I didn’t say pity-”

“My point still stands,” he interrupts. This time, he turns around, and you notice his eyes look more exhausted while his smirk is more cold. “You weren’t really feeling bad. You desire my presence much more than you want to admit, huh?”

His bluntness makes you red while you grimace and grip your wrap tighter. “I absolutely did not ever say or imply that.”

“You don’t need to. You keep trying to act tough around me, dear but I’m not the kind of man you can just lie to so easily.” He leans in closer to you and tilts your chin up with his hand through the bars. “You missed me, didn’t you?” “I did not,” you huff. You internally scream at the fact he’s making you act like a petulant child.

“Sure, sure, your highness. Just couldn’t admit the fact that you were starting to want me.”

“Well, continue to be that way. I’m going,” you say as you begin to stand up. His right hand reaches out to grab your wrist while he shakes his head.

“Oh no, your highness,” he tuts. “I’m not letting you go so easily now that you’re here. Come on, take a seat.”

“With how you’re talking, I don’t think I want to sit with you,” you argue. A low rumble from his chest again makes your face heat up.

“Don’t be so cruel… I began to miss your presence here. I don’t want to go back to that loneliness, you know?” “So you admit that you wanted companionship?” “Well, now you’re putting me in an awkward position, your highness,” he smirks. “Making me have to admit my feelings so suddenly.”

You wait to hear what he has to say while Crocodile rubs his thumb around your hand in circles. “Well? What are your feelings?” “So demanding,” Crocodile flicks his eyes towards yours briefly. “Well, since you’re so desperate to know-”

“I’m not desperate,” you glare. He looks deep into your eyes and chuckles.

“My bad. But I have to admit that I’ve been missing your company. You forced your way down here and then didn’t even come see after almost a week? I thought for a moment you would have forgotten me already.” You’re taken aback by his confession and stare while he strokes your hand.

“Prisoner got your tongue?” Crocodile flashes his hook at you while you avert your eyes.

“No, I… I was just taken aback for a moment. I didn’t expect you to be that forward now.” “You simply forced my hand. Don’t question my feelings again if you aren’t ready to hear what I really mean. Otherwise I’ll keep having to make you squirm.”

“You’re too much,” you groan as you take a seat on the floor again. “I don’t understand how you can say something like that with a straight face.” “Try being more honest, your highness. It might get you where you want instead of putting you on the defensive.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” you say. “You can’t tell me to be more honest when you were busy hiding your secrets until I ‘enticed’ you enough.”

“What can I say? I’m a hypocrite, your highness. That’s not my problem to solve.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but laugh. “Maybe you should take your own advice. Be more honest and open.” “I don’t think you could handle my honesty.” “I doubt that. You should just tell me.” “No, no, no, that’s not how this works. You can’t have only me admitting and spilling my life to you. You have to give something in return,” he points his index at you.

“Fine. What would you like to know?” “Any relationship experiences?” Crocodile bluntly asks.

“Wha- seriously? That’s your first question?” You reply, unimpressed.

“What? I’m just curious, is all. It’s a normal thing to ask someone attractive, isn’t it?” Crocodile raises a brow at you with a smirk.

“You-!” You cover your face with your hands. “You go first.” “Fine. Hm… relationships… can’t say I have.” “You really haven’t?” You ask in disbelief. “I mean, you seem like the type to have experience.” “Don’t mistake my words. I’ve had plenty of flings, if that’s what you’re curious about. But actually courting another? No, I have not.” “Why not?” “Why would I?” Crocodile runs a hand through his hair. “None have impressed me before. Especially not when I was so busy attempting to take over.”

“One-track minded, huh…”

“Hmph. You could say that. I prefer to label myself as ‘committed’ to my goals.”

“And what are those goals?”

“You haven’t given me your answer,” Crocodile reminds you.

You roll your eyes at his attempt to redirect your question. “None.”

“None, you say? Interesting,” he nods with a smile. “Not even a bed-warmer?” “You’re so crass. No. Nobody.” “Now that’s impressive. How did no one come along and attempt to woo you?” He chuckles, reaching out to hold your face in his hand.

“Well… a few have…” you admit, avoiding the deep examination Crocodile is giving you.

“And why have they not turned into an opportunity?” Crocodile questions.

“I wasn’t interested. The suitors who tried were vapid and dull. I’d much rather have continued reading and studying than bother trying to keep a conversation with them.”

“So, you’re just as ‘one-tracked minded’ as I am, hm?” Crocodile teases.

“I think I prefer ‘hardworking’ instead of that,” you correct with a smile.

“And what do you tend to study and read about?” “Any and everything. Whatever catches my eye at the moment, I like to read about.”

“A good trait to have. Continue chasing more knowledge,” Crocodile replies.

Your eyes widen. “You mean that?” “I told you before, you may be physically weak, but your brain can mean the difference between life and death. Power means nothing if you cannot effectively think for yourself,” his voice lowers, suddenly returning to their normal tone.

“That’s definitely true. I know I’m behind my brothers and my own father when it comes to strength, but I’ve valued my mind. I may not be able to fight head on, but I can do plenty of others things,” you confess.

“I know. They don’t appreciate and understand that, do they?” “No, not really,” you shake your head. Your brothers have teased you plenty about your tendencies to bury your face in a book. Even some of your suitors have been mortified that you knew things they didn’t- feeling threatened by that knowledge. Crocodile was the first man besides your father to encourage and be impressed by it. It made your chest feel lighter.

“What a shame. But that’s their way of bringing you down to their level. To make you feel lesser than and to settle for less,” Crocodile looks sternly at you. “Don’t you dare let them do such a thing to you. You’re a smart person, and your worth is infinitely larger than whatever they think it is.”

“Thank you,” you quietly reply, touched he would say such a thing to you. “Truly. I haven’t gotten support like that before.” “Heh. Don’t go thinking this makes me a saint or anything. I’m just saying the truth, so don’t accept what pathetic dogs try to tell you.”

“I guess I shouldn’t,” you agree, a smile creeping on your face. “I know what I’m capable of.”

“Good. And maybe you can find a more suitable partner for you then,” Crocodile chuckles.

You look at him briefly, your mind starting to wander as you think about what he could possibly be like as a-

You shake your head and try to remove the thoughts. It’s a crazy one that doesn’t make sense.

His eyes opens slowly as he hums at your expression. “You look lost in thought again. What’s on your mind?” “Oh, nothing,” you lie. You don’t look at him out of fear of making an even bigger fool of yourself.

“You’re a terrible liar, your highness. How do you expect to be diplomatic if you’re going to expose every emotion on your face?” “I don’t do that. I’m just not wanting to share that.” “Now why is that, hm?” He tilts you face to him and leans in, smirking. “You’re not thinking of me are you?” “I would never!” You shout, your face exploding with heat. “I was just thinking of… of…” “Still showing it on your face,” he pulls you closer and whispers into your ears. “If you’re that desperate to see what a man of my caliber can do, you can always just say so. I certainly wouldn’t be offended.”

“I don’t want that,” you cover your mouth, knowing your face is exposing the truth. Especially with how hot his breath is against your ears, you can barely handle the close proximity. “Besides, even if I were to hypothetically want that, you’re still cuffed and locked away.” “Oh, your highness,” he chuckles knowingly into your ear. “I don’t need anything but my hand to show you something wonderful.”

Your eyes drift to his right hand and you notice how large his fingers are. If they were to just-

You shoot up and cover your face. “You are- you are a cruel man!”

“I can’t deny that,” he shrugged, the smug look on his face not leaving. “But, when you stop playing hard to get, I can give you what you really want." “You’re frustrating. Good night!” You yell, turning around and ready to walk back to your room.

“Wait, your highness,” Crocodile calls out to you. You look, curious of what he wants to say.

Crocodile gives you a small grin. “Dream of me, won’t you?”

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #one piece oneshots #reader insert #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #crocodile one piece #the heartless giant #heartless giant #storyteller au

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s-4pphics · 1 year

Text

a lil meanmechanic!ellie and snobbybitch!reader hc list bc i’m clinically ill and my dark thoughts always win i was gonna write a lil fic but i got tired lol long day

but hopefully thisll suffice for now😚idk how many imma make for them but the sex gon go crazy

wc;cw: 930 real short n sweet, slutty rude annoying rich!oc, i’m not kidding she’s a bad person, more monologues when will it end, oc is horny and a top letting y’all know rn, imma make this toxic🤭

your shiny brand new pink bentley just stopped working! what the fuck!

after your dad gifted you your third new car, he instructed you to pull up to the swarovski store and pick up your sparkly limited edition lavender tinted lux chrono watch…. and this happens!

how the fuck were you going to get your new watch without transportation?!

you pulled your phone outta your chanel bag and googled car stopped help…

call a tow truck?!

don’t people just buy new cars when they stop working?!

you dialed the first number suggested online

“YELLO!” a friendly gruff voice came through the phone

“ummm, hi, my car stopped working— “

“okay, great! where’s your car located?”

“it’s uh.. near this mall complex.”

“…okay. i mean…. i mean what’s the address?”

…. you don’t fucking know, you’re stranded!

after spending the next ten minutes asking strangers where the hell you were, you irritatingly whined the address to the man on the phone

why does nothing go your way?!

“okay great! we’ll be there in about an hour to get it!”

an hour?!

but your swarovski watch—!

“hello?”

“…yeah, whatever.” you said, hanging up.

this is fucking stupid!

after an hour of angrily pouting in your front seat, you saw a red truck pull up behind you in your rearview

fucking finally!

you got out your new baby and saw—

oh, fuck

oh fuck!

WEEEEEEWOOOOOOWWEEEEEE—

your brain was sending off red alarms!

behind the man, there was a girl in overalls and a wife-beater, dirty sneakers(yuck!), and a bandana on to keep her sweaty hair outta her face

and your mood immediately got better!

she’s sexy she’s sexy she’s sexy she’s sexy—

“um, hi! ‘m joel! you called for a tow?”

oh yeah

“y-yup! that’s me! my cars over there,” you pointed in some random direction as you stared at the girl

“….okay, uh, we’ll get that loaded and we’ll head over to the repair shop!”

“uh huh,” you were so dazed as you watched her biceps ripple as she got some paperwork outta the car

“….right!” and he walked away

she’s coming over oh god she’s coming over!

“hey. this your car?”

“mhm!”

you looked at her name tag

ellie

hm…wanna fuck?—

“cool. just need you to sign here. we’ll do the diagnosis when we get to the shop—“

you didn’t even care about what the fuck she was saying

you wanna eat her out so bad and buy her whatever she wants

you work so hard, baby, lemme take the stress away!

“…are you gonna sign…or?”

you were too busy looking at her freckled face and scarred eyebrows to notice she was holding a clipboard out to you

how about you sign these damn wedding papers!

“sorry!”

“it’s cool…yeah, just sign at the bottom.”

she pointed at the dotted line with her calloused finger and you almost sucked it into your mouth!

turn her out turn her out!

she finally met your eyes

you wanted her clit in your mouth—!

“um… you can hop in the truck and we’ll head over, it’s like.. 20 minutes—“

“great! let’s go!”

ride my face!

when you arrived at the dealership, you got…. uncomfortable.

why was it so loud and… grungy looking?

the nice man that answered the phone—joel— guided you into the garage and ushered you to sit on…. dirty chairs and you wanted god to strike you down now

“we’re gonna take a look at your car! it’s in pretty good condition so it shouldn’t be long!” joel screamed at you from the garage exit

you sat and nodded and

you looked so outta place in here

pastel colors, shimmery necklace and bracelets, heels!

you stood out like a sore thumb!

rusted, eggshell walls, dimly lit, dusty floor

you wanna leave so bad what the fuck—

“hey!”

sike you wanna stay ellie’s so fucking fine—

“your car battery’s connection is loose, we’re gonna replace it—“

“today's my birthday!”

you were biting your lip and looking at her with glossy lust filled eyes and you wanted your head between her thighs—

“….’scuse me?”

“it’s my birthday!”

“happy….. happy birthday?”

“thank you!” now lemme give you head—

“uh huh….. so, the replacement battery is gonna be $60, i can ring you up right now so you're not waiting when your car’s charged.”

you followed her to the desk and….

her fucking back and her shoulders and her ass—

her back her back! you wanna scratch it and make her scream!—

“cash or card?”

“card. my black card!” she needa know you’ll buy her everything—

“….right. go ‘head and swipe.”

you wanna swipe your tongue on her pussy!

but you swiped your card

and you also reached in your chanel and grabbed a couple hundreds out

“here you go! for your troubles!”

“what.”

“you fixed my baby! you should get a huge tip! like a really…. really fat one!

lemme give you this tip!

she must’ve noticed your tone, nastily sweet like honey, because her eyes widened before she let out a shocked scoff

you have her you have her—

“are you kidding me right now?”

what.

“hm?”

“i’m askin’ if you’re fucking serious? we don’t accept charity.” and she got up

and she looked mad

what the hell?

“w-what! no, it’s not like that— “

“yeah, whatever, your car will be ready in 20. you can take your money and get the hell out.”

and she stormed off with a slam of the back door.

…..

oh my god?

…

you want her even more now!

#ellie williams blurb #ellie x fem reader #richsnob!oc #ellie williams smut #lesbian #ellie williams #mechanic!ellie ˚. ᵎᵎ

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namjoon-koya · 2 years

Note

Hello how are you? can i ask you for an imagine or headcanons please with Aizawa and Hawks if you don't mind where his girlfriend Y/N who is a pro hero (top 10 and with a strong quirk) got in the way during the fight with Stain and the students of UA and was found injured

Aizawa and Hawks finding you injured.

Warning: mentions of panic attacks in Aizawa’s hcs.

Hawks and you were patrolling different areas that night, usually the both of you would share coms so you two could continue to speak with each other. It wasn’t supposed to be different, it was supposed to be the two of you talking about what to do once you guys got back home. He thought to himself as he raced to go find you, the last thing he heard was a muffling sound before you completely cut off.

That’s when he got an alert, for pro-heroes to stay on high alert for a villain killing pro-heroes. Hawks felt a lump in his throat as he rushed to find you, and once he did he almost wanted to cry. Thankfully you were surrounded by other pro-heroes, but he could see the slashes on your arms and few faint ones on your cheek.

He landed quickly a few pro-heroes tried to stop him, but he pushed them aside. Not caring if a few even glared at him for that, he noticed Endeavor was next to you his large hand gently holding onto your wrist almost like if he was trying to find a pulse, he felt his heart sink fuck please no. “She’ll be okay.” Endeavor spoke up “we need to get her to the hospital.” Once endeavor got up away from you, he noticed hawks “you shouldn’t underestimate her, without her the u.a students would’ve gotten hurt.”

Relief settled into him when he realized that you were just exhausted, but still he didn’t like seeing you like this. Endeavor was able to fill hawks in with a few details about the battle, stating Stain’s quirk is able to make people paralyzed temporarily. He stayed with you at the hospital, even if his agency told him he needed to do a task for them he ignored their texts and calls.

Shit do they not understand that YOU got attacked? Hell he’s not leaving your side until you wake up, and once you did Hawks would gently hold onto your hand. Squeezing it a few times and would relax when you would squeeze his back, it was a reassurance to him.

Stain is going to get FUCKED UP, not only for harming his students, but for also harming you. He’s lucky Aizawa wasn’t there to deliver a blow to his face like he did with dabi, Aizawa has always been the type to never show much of his emotions. The only time he did is when he was around you, you could literally kiss the scar on his face and he’d automatically melt into you.

So it was definitely a scary event to the person who had to break the news to Aizawa of you being near the area, in which stain was attacking pro-heroes. Aizawa didn’t hesitate to quickly jump into action and go find you, if you got angry at him then he could handle it. He’d rather not sit there and grade papers knowing you’re somewhere not safe, or probably getting attacked by stain.

Yet once he did find you, his stomach sank. He could see the blood oozing from your arms as you had your back against a brick wall, a few pro-heroes surrounded you as some of them tried to stop the bleeding. Aizawa felt like he failed you, he wasn’t fast enough if he was here sooner he wouldn’t have to see the scene in front of him unfolding. He pushed by and kneeled beside you, he hand gently brushing against your forehead. You only shifted, but didn’t open your eyes.

He felt like he’s going to have a panic attack, how long did it take the ambulance to come?! Once they did arrive and took you to the hospital he didn’t leave your side once, even while he had to be grading school work he waited in the lobby. Until the nurses told him where your room number was, he stayed at your bedside. Only leaving to get coffee from the cafeteria and occasionally food, he didn’t want to leave your side for too long in case you woke up.

When you did wake up, Aizawa would press so many kisses against your face even while you complained about his stubble scratching your face. He was just happy to have you back.

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say-al0e · 1 year

Text

Finally

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: You have a rule; don’t pursue any of the other regulars at your favorite bar. Rooster is a regular and one night, makes you question why you ever thought that rule was a good idea.

Warnings: Protected PinV, oral (fem rec), drinking, consent is hot, pre-TGM (set in VB). (Anything else, just let me know and I can tag it)

Pairing: Rooster x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

The little dive a few blocks away from your apartment had long since turned into something of a second home for you and your friends. Most Saturdays - if none of the girls had made more pressing pans - found you seated around a table near the door, empty glasses littering the sticky surface as you all decompressed after a stressful week. There was cheap alcohol, greasy food that was decent enough, and rarely any crowds.

Unlike other bars in the area, most of the people who filled seats on Saturday nights were your run of the mill regulars. Though the vast majority of bars in the area - new and old - seemed to cater to the large and ever-growing Naval population, the little dive never seemed to attract any particular clientele.

There always seemed to be an interesting mixture of regulars scattered about each weekend. The ones you saw most were the small group of college students - eager to flash their new, real (they swore) IDs - a few couples, a few loners who drank quietly at the bar, and a group of, in the words of your friends, obscenely handsome men.

That description wasn’t wrong, the group was obscenely handsome, but you did your best not to stare. The bar was your safe haven, a refuge from the offense of a rough week, just as you assumed it was theirs. As such, you thought it best not to pursue any of them.

Things could get messy - the bartender had slept with a handful of one-time regulars who had since stopped appearing - and losing your favorite bar to a night that may or may not be worth it was the last thing you wanted. Avoiding them seemed practical, however, just because you decided that you shouldn’t didn’t mean you didn’t want to.

The group of men was never loud, no more so than any of the rest of the patrons in the bar, but there were moments of light that showcased their personalities. Their voices tended to carry on slower nights, when it seemed to be just your group and theirs, and you’d gotten to know a fair deal about them.

The most revolutionary piece oof information you’d gleaned from their conversations was that the one they called Rooster was the one who’d caught your eye.

Rooster - whose real name you never heard uttered by any of his companions - was at the bar most weekends. He was one of the quieter members of the group, usually choosing songs at the old jukebox in the corner and grinning as he nodded along, but never failed to laugh when the group lobbed half-hearted taunts his way.

There was a boyish charm about him, despite his size and relative quiet, and it did nothing but make you wonder.

If anyone asked, you’d argue that the duality of him was what drew you in. He was easily among the tallest men in the bar at any given time, with broad shoulders and defined biceps. There were a handful of scars smattered across his skin and, every so often, a handful of bruises to accompany them.

The men he ventured into the bar were so obviously Navy, even without the uniforms but Rooster carried himself easily. The rigidity you’d come to expect from soldiers, pilots, and sailors - living so close to the largest Naval base in the world gave you plenty of experience with them - was missing entirely, replaced by gaudy Hawaiian shirts and a playful smile, and that was that.

Somehow, in only a matter of months, Rooster managed to capture your attention and kept you coming back for more, week after week.

Everyone seemed to notice.

Both sets of friends - yours and his - wagged eyebrows and snickered whenever your paths managed to cross. Endless amounts of whispering, begging you just to say hello to him, plagued you nearly every weekend and if you glanced at his table, you assumed he was being given the same treatment.

It seemed impossible that he wasn’t, given you seemed to have caught his eye, too.

Night after night, piercing brown eyes met yours across the bar. A soft smile, hidden beneath a mustache you would’ve deemed ridiculous on anyone else, was sure to accompany the warm gaze and, despite yourself, you’d grown to anticipate the shared glances.

That gaze, those eyes glittering even in the dim light of the bar, was the highlight of your night. That night was no exception.

Each time you took a cursory glance around the bar - gaze sweeping over the sticky bar top, the bright jukebox, the worn pool table, the wall covered in stickers and patches and signatures from patrons past - you always seemed to find your way back to him.

Over the course of the night, glances were exchanged - sidelong, flirty, curious - more frequently than ever. It reminded you that there’d always been something stopping you from taking him home.

The desire to keep yourself, and him, from losing your second home for a night that had no guarantee; the determination to avoid your friends’ knowing smiles and fond teasing, no matter how deserved; the desperation to keep from making a mistake by taking him home, even if it turned out to be a beautiful one.

Thoughts of what could happen - the bad, the good, the indifferent - plagued you each time you shared a glance with Rooster. As your friends sipped beer and wine and giggled about their respective partners, you allowed yourself to wonder.

There was no guarantee attached to a night spent with Rooster, however, there could be a future there. The happily ever after you quietly longed for, wrapped in an awfully tacky Hawaiian shirt and a mustache straight out of 1986, could await you. One night with him could lead to a future that saw your group of friends and his sharing a table and laughing over how long you danced around one another.

Alternatively, it could become a fond memory. There was no guarantee the intrigue you felt would last more than a night. It could end with an understanding that you were not meant to be and knowing looks shared in passing, never speaking of the night but silently agreeing to cohabitate in peace.

The worst option was the one that gave you pause. There could be heartache in a night spent with Rooster, hidden behind pretty smiles and soft eyes. The night could lead to a future in which the sight of those eyes would render you unable to step foot in your favorite bar. It could end in disappointment or hurt and that was the last thing you wanted for either of you.

Each scenario was one you’d considered at least a dozen times. Some nights, you spent the entirety of your time in the bar questioning ‘what-if’. It was why you’d avoided speaking to him, why you never allowed the glances to linger too long or the teasing from your friends to spur you into action, but something shifted.

That night, instead of allowing the negativity to take root, an unfamiliar determination took hold.

Three weeks had passed since you last saw him. During those three weeks, you wondered if he’d been sent elsewhere and you’d missed your chance. Upon realizing how devastated the thought made you, you decided that he was worth it. Regardless of what happened, you wanted to at least take that first chance.

Rooster seemed to feel the same.

There was a promise hidden in the warmth of his eyes - ask and I’ll follow, you won’t regret it - you’d never seen from him before. It had you lingering near the bar as your friends paid their tabs. You waited under the guise of patience, insisting you had nowhere to be the following day and knew they all had plans, but, really, you weren’t sure you wanted them to see you willingly offer yourself up to the man they’d been teasing you about for months.

Nothing about it was shameful, you knew that. Your friends had gone home with or taken home their fair share of partners - soldiers, sailors, pilots, baristas, musicians, artists, finance bros; you name it, they’ve slipped out of a bar with them, uttering a promise to share details upon next meeting - but this felt different.

Rooster felt different.

That thought would likely make you laugh later on - depending on the outcome of the night - but you were confident as he followed your lead.

As his friends paid their tabs, each pointedly ignoring your presence - though you knew they saw you, felt their curious glances even as you paid them no mind - and laughing, he snuck glances. With each one, the world seemed to stop to a crawl around you.

The chatter of the bar faded into an indistinct hum, a song that no longer mattered playing in the background, just as the neon lights behind the bar blurred into shapeless splotches. Rooster settled into the space at your side as he waited and warmth radiated off of him, even through the fabric of his gaudy Hawaiian shirt. You only hoped that he didn’t notice the way your grip on the bar tightened in an effort to remain upright.

For a few long moments, you kept your eyes on the shelf of bottles behind the bar, struggling to read the labels that only moments ago had been completely comprehensible, and pointedly avoiding meeting his eyes in the mirror. However, when the last of his friends stepped out of the bar and into the cool night air, Rooster turned to you.

“Bradley,” he introduced, finally answering the question you’d been pondering for months, the moment you met his eyes. His mouth curved into a soft smile, eyes shimmering and bright despite the dim light of the bar, and you had to force yourself to take even breaths as he offered his hand in greeting.

Bradley’s voice, clearer than you’d ever heard it now that it was directed at you, and lower than expected, rang in your ears as he repeated your name. It sounded perfect, as if he’d uttered it a thousand times before, and it was almost startling how his touch simultaneously calmed and electrified your poor stuttering heart.

It was difficult to remember the last time anyone had made you feel this way - if anyone had ever made your feel this way - upon first meeting but you refused to dwell. That moment was all that mattered and, for once, you were ready to take the night in stride.

With the weight of Bradley’s gaze sweeping over your skin, warm eyes roving the few expanses of exposed skin, heating you from within, little else seemed to exist beyond the present. There was no telling how long you stood, your hand clasped in his as you took the opportunity to study one another without the teasing of friends, before the moment was broken by the opening chords of Berlin’s Take My Breath Away.

Laughter, surprised but wholly amused, filled your ears as Bradley finally released your hand. “Fitting,” he teased, grinning as his gaze returned to meet yours. When you rolled your eyes, playful despite the heat rushing to your cheeks, Bradley’s grin only grew. “Are you heading out?”

“Was planning to, yeah,” you nodded with a brief glance toward the door. “Luckily, it’s a pretty short walk.”

Bradley copied the gesture, slow and understanding, as he searched your face for any hint that he’d gotten the wrong understanding. When he seemed to find none, he asked, “Let me walk you home?”At the raise of your brow, teasing, he shrugged. “It’s late,” he reasoned, “short walk or not.”

“Does the Navy encourage the buddy system or is that your attempt at chivalry?”

Despite the question, you gathered your bag and threw the bartender - who wore a knowing grin - a wave before turning to leave. Bradley waited just a moment, eager for your consent, and only followed when you tilted your head toward the door.

“What gave me away as Navy?”

The noise of the city hit you as you stepped out into the night - through a door held open by Bradley - but immediately faded into the background as he fell into step at your side. Just as you figured he would, he walked along the edge of the sidewalk closest to the street and turned to glance at you.

“I’ve lived in Virginia Beach for two years. There’s not much else you can be around here. Your friends are Navy so I put two and two together. ‘Sides, the call sign didn’t help,” you teased, grinning when he laughed and nodded his understanding. “Before we found out your friends were Navy, my guesses were either that, blue collar, or a former frat boy. But that could just be the Hawaiian shirts clouding my judgement.”

Bradley’s laughter was quiet, a little self-deprecating, but amused as he shook his head. He studied you for a moment, gaze sweeping your skin with a quiet intensity that made it difficult to keep yourself entirely together, before he turned his head to glance at the neighborhood surrounding you both. “You know, for those to be guesses, two out of three isn’t bad.”

For this to be the first time you’d actually gotten to speak to him, you found conversation with Bradley to be easier than you would’ve imagined. There was no hint of what you hoped the night would bring, only an easy banter that settled the erratic beating of your heart and calmed the nerves that prickled at your overheated skin. It reinforced the decision you were making and gave you hope that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be a mistake.

“You were a frat boy? Let me guess, UVA or Tech. Unless you’re going to shock me and tell me you didn’t go to school in Virginia.”

With an easy grin, Bradley shook his head. “UVA,” he confirmed, eyes flickering to you. “You’re good. Are you always this right or am I just easy to read?” As you approached a crosswalk, Bradley took a moment to glance around at your surroundings before asking, “Which way?”

“Left at the light.” As you slowed to a stop, Bradley turned to focus the entirety of his attention on you. There was an honest curiosity there, eager to continue the conversation, and you were surprised at how willing he was to chatter on about nothing rather than rush you through the streets. “I went to UNC Chapel Hill. There are differences, obviously, but enough similarities that make it easier to see. Or maybe I just put on college-tinted goggles and never took them off. But even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

For a brief moment, the only noise was that of the city moving around you. The occasional car rushing past, the opening and closing of doors as you passed apartment buildings, the distant hum of conversations, but Bradley’s silence spoke the loudest. When you glanced at him, only to be met with a look of fond bemusement, you raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

Instead of speaking, Bradley took a step closer and lifted his hand to cradle your cheek. As he leaned in, he paused for a moment to await your consent. Brown eyes swept yours, searching for any hesitance, and when he was met with a nod, he pressed his mouth to yours.

The kiss was softer than you expected, less an impatient clashing of teeth and lips and tongue and more of an eager glimpse into the coming night, and you were met with a quiet laugh as Bradley pulled away.

“I would apologize for not waiting,” he began, eyes shining even under the dim orange glow of the streetlight and not sounding apologetic in the slightest, “but I can’t. I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while.” He grinned then, honest and endearing, and you felt your chest begin to ache as his eyes darted back to your mouth. Bradley stood still for a moment, gaze sweeping your heated skin, before he took a half-step back. He remained closer than he had and smiled as you blinked at his honesty. “Left at the light?”

“Yeah.”

Stringing together a coherent line of thought proved difficult - more so than you imagined it would when you decided to embark on this endeavor - so you offered no protest as Bradley began to move in the direction of your apartment building. He kept close to your side and you struggled to keep from sparing him glances as you wandered down the sidewalk.

When the entrance to your building grew clearer, you swallowed the nerves you’d never felt bringing anyone else home and tilted your head to look at him fully. “That’s me,” you pointed out, gesturing to the building looming ever closer. “D’you wanna come in?”

There was little doubt that you were on the same page, both interested in the same thing, but you wanted to be certain.

“If you’ll have me,” he agreed readily, head turning to meet your eyes as you approached the entrance.

With a nod, you reached for his hand and tugged him through the breezeway. Bradley followed along, hand warm in yours, and flashed you a smile each time you shot him a glance. Nerves filled the pit of your stomach - excited and anxious, eager and hesitant - as you climbed the stairs to your apartment.

To your continued surprise - though you should have expected it at that point - Bradley waited for you to make the first move as the door to your apartment clicked shut. Though he remained close, his hand still clasped in yours and eyes sweeping your face for any sign of hesitance, he gave you the power in that moment.

“Is this… can I?” Though you weren’t quite sure what you were asking, Bradley seemed to understand. He dropped your hand and, instead, reached for your hip to tug you a half-step closer.

The weight of his palm pressed to your hip, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your top to brush at overheated skin, grounded you just enough to notice his hum of approval. In a moment of eagerness, you closed the gap and lifted a hand to the back of his neck to tug him forward.

This kiss, though just as pleasant as the first, was less patient. Though he gave you room to initiate, Bradley quickly took control of the kiss. He pressed himself impossibly closer, blanketed your body with his own as he stole your breath with each swipe of his tongue, and shuddered when you shifted your hand to rake through his hair.

In a flurry of movement, a little more frenzied than you’d expected but in no way deserving of a complaint, the outer layers of your clothes were shed in a heap near the couch. Bradley’s coat, tossed to the floor, followed by yours; your heels, kicked off near the hall closet, followed by his boots; there would be a trail for you both to follow upon his departure but, in that moment, nothing mattered outside of guiding him to your bed.

Warm hands caressed your skin, dipped beneath the fabric of your top and brushed the sensitive skin of your hips and stomach, as you tugged at soft brown locks. The pair of you stumbled down the hallway, Bradley eagerly helping you shed your clothes along the way, only for him to pull away from the kiss the moment you stepped into your room.

Those eyes - the ones that flickered to you every time you entered the bar, the ones that glittered even in the dim neon, the ones that captivated you from the very beginning - raked over your exposed skin and eagerly drank in the sight of you. Though your initial instinct was to hide, the cover yourself from his scrutiny, the sheer desire in the depth of his eyes left you unable to do more than allow him to have his fill.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented, gaze lifting to meet yours as his hands gripped your hips.

There was no hint of dishonesty in his compliment, only an earnest honesty that made your skin heat and heart flutter. “You’re one to talk,” you hummed, lifting your hand to trace the slope of his cheek. “You’re really fucking pretty, Bradley.”

It was easy to see that he didn’t believe you - or, if he did, he would’ve downplayed the compliment entirely - but Bradley simply brushed it off and dipped his head to return his lips to yours.

The kiss he pulled you into was searing, warm and eager as he pressed you back toward your bed. There was little else that needed to be said as he nudged you to lie back and settle into the center of the bed.

Bradley was eager. When he slipped between your spread thighs, large hands gripping the supple flesh to hold you open for him, he surged forward with no hesitation. He nosed at the juncture of your thigh, pressed a blistering kiss to the top of your mound, before he licked into you with reckless abandon. There were no tentative flicks of his tongue, no bored swipes that indicated he was acting out of some kind of obligation. Instead, he swiped the flat of his tongue through your folds and lapped at you like a man starved.

In the back of your mind, you wondered - only briefly, before your thoughts were wiped completely by the press of his fingers to your clit - how much better sex with him would be if he were emotionally invested. It was already better than most you’d had with committed partners and from what you were beginning to learn about Bradley, you could only imagine emotional investment would give him room to ruin you for any future partner.

Though his size could be seen as imposing, he was careful to keep the press of his fingers into your skin balanced. There was enough pressure to feel, enough pressure to ensure reminders of his presence would be left in the morning, but not so much that it caused you real pain. When your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, he groaned openly as he pressed his face impossibly closer.

There was a charming eagerness to his desire, a willingness to give his entire self in the pursuit of your pleasure, and were it not for the insistent press of his fingers to your aching clit, your thoughts would’ve been sent careening down a dangerous road. Though you knew so little about him, you felt yourself growing increasingly attached and only hoped he would feel the same.

The press of his fingers, larger than your own and rough enough that you imagined he worked with his hands, had your stomach tightening and flames of unfettered arousal licking at your heated skin as you tugged at his hair. Bradley had yet to remove anything more than his jacket but as he pressed his fingers deeper, you imagined the preparation would be necessary.

One fear when deciding to take Bradley home was that you would be left wanting, forced to fake it and take care of yourself later, but that was abated by your fast-approaching release. It should’ve been embarrassing, just how quickly he was able to throw you over the edge, but your embarrassment was only drowned out by the awe at his ability to read you already.

“Bradley! I’m gonna -“ The cry of his name echoed in the quiet of your bedroom, mingled with the lewd sounds of him lapping at your dripping folds as his fingers worked in tandem with his tongue, but he seemed to understand.

Bradley relented, only for a moment, to urge, “Come for me, honey.” The directive was mumbled into your skin as his gaze lifted to meet yours and, for a moment, you lost the ability to breathe. Honey eyes, blown wide with lust and darkening with each swipe of his tongue, captivated you. “Wanna taste you.”

Everything outside of Bradley - the intensity of his gaze, the feeling of his hand gripping your thigh, the insistent press of his fingers into your dripping cunt, the drag of his tongue through your folds, the weight of him pressed against your body, the heat of him burning you from within - ceased to exist.

With a cry of the only word your lust-addled brain could recount - “Bradley!” - you came.

Bradley didn’t relent.

The warmth of him remained pressed against your body, the weight of his hand splayed across your thigh and the rough drag of that fucking mustache as he mouthed at the soft skin of your inner thigh. Each touch felt magnified, as if your senses had been dialed to a thousand, but there was no ounce of upset anywhere to be found, even as he smirked at you.

“Still with me, honey?” Bradley hadn’t struck you as a cocky man but he oozed confidence as he pressed slick fingers into your hip to keep you from moving away. He glanced up at you, still settled between your spread thighs, and waited patiently for your response.

“Fuck.”

At that, Bradley laughed. The look on his face was one you hadn’t expected - pride, sure, but almost something akin to relief that you didn’t feel capable of dwelling on in the moment. Before you could question it, however, he shifted to settle above you. “This still okay?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, voice catching in your throat as his lips pressed to the heated skin of your shoulder. “More than. Please.”

Bradley hummed, acknowledging that he’d heard you, and shifted to allow you to push the Hawaiian shirt off his shoulders before he returned to pressing kisses along the column of your throat. With each press of his mouth to your skin, you sank deeper into the plush of your mattress.

Still, as you felt the fabric of the muscle shirt he’d worn beneath the Hawaiian shirt, you huffed. “It’s not fair that I’m naked and you’re still fully clothed,” you pouted, only half-confident the words came out as strong as you wanted them to.

With a laugh, Bradley easily lifted himself from you and made quick work of shucking the remainder of his clothing. His shirt, tossed into a corner to be found later, was followed by the rough denim of his jeans and, lastly, the soft cotton of his briefs.

The assumption you’d made - that the preparation of his fingers was necessary - was accurate.

“Fuck me.” The exclamation escaped unintentionally, mumbled beneath your breath the moment you caught sight of him, and you could see the dusting of pink across his cheeks and chest as he ducked his head.

“I was hoping you’d let me,” he declared, laughing quietly as he leaned in to nip at the column of your throat. “Can I?”

The objects in your nightstand clattered as you rummaged through them blindly in search of the little box. It had been shoved to the back and nearly hidden behind a mountain of other items, but you triumphantly tugged a little foil square from the depths and handed it to Bradley with a grin.

“Please.”

Bradley readily tore open the foil packet and rolled the condom on. As he shifted closer, settled himself between your spread thighs and pressed a hand to your hip to help steady himself, you tangled your fingers in his hair. Though he’d worked you open with his fingers and tongue, there was still a slight pinch as he notched the head of his cock at your entrance and pressed forward.

Another kiss, heated and desperate, stole your breath as he seated himself fully inside. He was careful to keep his full weight off of you, though you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. After a few moments, when the slight pinch began to give way to a pleasant fullness, you shifted your hips and nipped at his bottom lip.

“You can move. Please.”

At first, the pace was slow and measured, an even rock of his hips. After a few moments, however, Bradley began to set a rhythm that stole your breath and had your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. He pressed impossibly deeper, filled you in a way you’d never felt before, and managed to hit the spot that made you see stars with each drag of his hips.

Every moan was swallowed but each sound only seemed to make him that much more eager to please.

The weight of his body pressed to yours, heavy but in the most pleasant way; the rough drag of his fingertips as he circled your clit, tight circles that had you questioning whether to chase the sensation or push him away; the insistent press of his hips, deeper and impossibly deeper with each thrust; the gruff of his voice, deeper and deeper with each curse that left his lips.

It all culminated into an end that hit you with more force than you could’ve seen coming.

This orgasm was significantly more powerful than the first, strong enough to knock the air from your lungs and send splotches of white dancing across your vision. Bradley pushed through, eagerly swallowed your cry of his name, and chased his own release on the heels of yours.

When he came, with a swear and his forehead pressed to yours, he shifted to remove his weight from your body and laid beside you. As you both came down from your respective highs, you took a moment to study him.

In the dim light of your room, Bradley seemed even more beautiful. The slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the plush of his lips; now that you knew it all, had seen it and felt it and tasted it, you wanted nothing more than to give in to the urge to press yourself into his side. It was the post-release high, you knew that, but you were still half-convinced there was something more to Bradley than any other fling.

However, after a few moments of silence, filled only with the sounds of your attempts to catch your breath, Bradley shifted. He leaned over to press another kiss to your shoulder, grinning when you laughed at the tickle of his mustache against your skin, before he pushed himself out of the bed.

With great difficulty, you hid the slight sting of disappointment as he began to gather the pieces of his clothing. “You can stay,” you offered, quiet voice sounding too loud in the near silence of the room. As you watched him search for his shirt in the chaos of your room, you added, “If you want.”

“Believe me, I would love to, but I’ve got to be at work in,” he paused for a moment, tapped the home screen of his phone, and grimaced, “three hours.” He stood and tugged on his briefs, followed by his jeans, before he turned back to you.

There was an honesty in his answer that served as something of a balm, a small glimmer of hope that he was telling the truth and would’ve stayed had the timing been different, so you nodded. “I’ll walk you out, then,” you offered as you climbed out of bed and wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders.

Bradley walked slowly through your apartment, wasting a few moments of time as he gathered the few items of his that had been tossed throughout the apartment, before turning to you in the living room. Those eyes - those damn eyes that seemed to have an unexplainable power over you - met yours before he leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

It was just close enough to tempt you into turning your head - giving in to the newfound urge to sink into him, to revel in the way his mouth slotted against yours - but before you could, he pulled away and offered up his phone. There was no need for words, nothing of note to say as you tapped away, diligently inputting the number you hoped he’d call.

And then, with a smile and one final press of his mouth to yours - a promise to call you mumbled into your skin - Bradley turned to leave.

There was little doubt that he would reach out - he seemed so fucking sincere, so sweet, and you knew you would see him again, even if it was just in passing at the bar - but you didn’t expect to see an unknown number appear on your phone screen quite so soon.

As you padded into the kitchen in search of water, you tapped the answer button. “Just wanted to make sure you had my number, too,” Bradley offered by way of greeting, grin evident as you heard the thud of a door shutting behind him. “Just in case.”

“Just in case,” you echoed, grinning without restraint. “I appreciate it.”

“Just being chivalrous,” he declared, not bothering to hide his amusement. “But, now that I’ve got you, what d’you think about dinner on Saturday? Might have to miss a thrilling night at the bar but, who knows? Could be worth it.”

“Could be,” you agreed easily. “And they always say, variety is the spice of life.” Dinner with Bradley would be worth it - he’d already proven time spent with him would be worthwhile - and you felt your heart begin to beat just a touch faster at the prospect of getting to know him. “I think dinner sounds good. The company might not be all that bad either.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he promised, laughing quietly as the sound of the city began to filter through the speaker. “I’ll see you on Saturday, then.”

“See you on Saturday,” you agreed, grinning as you leaned against the counter and felt a flurry of butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach. “Have a good night, Bradley.”

“Goodnight, honey.”

In all of the scenarios you could’ve dreamt, few of them left you as giddy as reality. There was no guarantee that a future in which you and Bradley became more than you were in that moment existed but, regardless of where the future took you, you were looking forward to the journey.

_________________________________________________________________

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#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun smut #top gun maverick smut #top gun one shot #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster smut #v's fics

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standfucker · 4 months

Note

Bestie, hi yes hello.

Zoro Headcanons with an AFAB reader. Meeting and slowly developing feelings for. I will leave it up to you to decide how deep the feelings go, and honestly some good ol' SFW is fine.

I love you >w< 💋

This turned into a small drabble more than headcanons, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. These things often have a way of turning into their own little story no matter what I do. Dx

Falling in Love with Zoro

CW: mild gender angst, drinking

You don’t catch feelings when he saves your life. You’re a strong enough fighter that you’ve been in risky combat situations plenty of times; this one doesn’t stand out. You give Zoro your share of booze that night in thanks and don’t think about it again.

You don’t catch feelings when he fights Sanji over acting foolish around you. That happens too often to really stand out anyways.

You don’t even catch feelings the time he grabs you instinctively when a huge wave rolls the Sunny nearly 90 degrees, Zoro keeping you from falling into the sea with a burly arm around your hips. (“Does this mean I get your rum again?” he asks afterward.)

You start to really notice him, however, after the latest stop in a tavern for info. You and Robin split up to probe regulars for information, and a patron makes creepy comments toward you. It shouldn’t bother you. You could kill him with your bare hands, easily. And yet something about the situation makes you freeze up. That’s when Zoro, appearing over your shoulder, calmly and coolly asks, “This guy botherin’ you?” in that deep voice of his. It’s all he says, but the razor sharp, cutting glare he levels on the guy makes him immediately scramble away.

“Thanks,” you say, and keep it at that, even though you’re furious with yourself. How did you let that happen? And how did Zoro know you were struggling? He’s seen you fight. He knows what you’re capable of. You don’t think he sees you as weak–that’s not it. Somehow, he knew you needed help.

You look at Zoro differently after that. You always saw him as kind of a dumb jock, but maybe you weren’t giving him enough credit. Now that you’re watching him more, you notice that he’s far more attentive than you first thought, picking up on little details that could otherwise easily be missed.

Zoro, on his end, notices that you’ve been watching him, ever since that night. He knows something is bothering you, but figures you’ll tell him about it if you need to. He wouldn’t want to offend you by asking. Not that he ever cares about offending people, but…he doesn’t want to offend you. He’s not sure why, but also doesn’t worry about it too much.

So you two go on like that, perusing each other from a distance. Both of you watching and waiting, but for what, you’re not sure. The tavern incident keeps eating at you in the back of your mind. Maybe it was from embarrassment, to be reduced to nothing but your gender in front of a crewmate. Maybe it was good old-fashioned shame. Regardless, you keep a wary eye on the swordsman.

You notice more things. How hard he pushes himself when training. The curves and edges of his muscular body, flexing and shifting beneath scarred skin. How disciplined his work ethic is. How brotherly he is toward Chopper, something that seems to burrow its way into your chest when you witness it–you adore kids, and never realized Zoro could be so…

So soft.

It bothers you. It excites you. It makes your heart pound and your skin warm and it’s distracting. You never cared about these things before. You’re a powerful fighter, not a blushing maiden. What the hell has gotten into you? Maybe that’s why that night at the tavern keeps replaying.

One night, you meet him at the bow of the ship, moonlight sparkling off the edges of the sea waves. He’s nursing an almost-empty mug, but you’ve brought something finer; a bottle of sake and two cups.

“You want to talk,” Zoro says, surprising you again.

“If you don’t mind,” you say.

“Nah.” He tilts his chin at the sake. “How did you get that, anyway? Curly-brow told me he was saving it.”

“By having a pair of tits,” you say dryly, your annoyance with the situation obvious. All you had to do was ask Sanji nicely, and he immediately let you have it.

“Tch.” Zoro clicks his tongue. “He’s disgusting.”

“He means well,” you sigh, opening the sake bottle and handing Zoro one of the cups. Zoro politely holds it out to you with two hands, and you fill it. “I just…I would rather have his respect than his adoration.”

Zoro takes the sake bottle, and you hold your cup out for him to fill. “You’re reading him wrong. He respects you, that much I know. He just also acts like a moron.”

“It doesn’t feel respectful.”

“I’d imagine it wouldn’t.”

You raise your cups to each other in cheers, then drain them. The cool liquor burns pleasantly as it runs down your throat. He lets out a satisfied “Ah,” and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” he asks as he refills both your cups. Despite the question, you get the feeling that he already knows, so you don’t beat around the bush.

“How did you know I needed help?” you finally ask. “That one night, at the Blueberry Hill Tavern.” Zoro raises his cup to you, and you mirror him, then you both down your drinks.

“Easy enough,” he says after swallowing. “You’re normally very animated. I didn’t hear what that guy said, but I’ve never seen you go rigid like that before. Wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You don’t respond right away, avoiding his eye. “...Do you think I’m weak?”

“Huh? No. Wait, is that what this has all been about?” Zoro chuckles. “That’s what’s been bothering you?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, I didn’t think you thought so.”

“Then why ask?”

You refill both your cups. “...I don’t know. I just wanted to be sure. Mostly, I’m…disappointed in myself, I suppose.”

“Don’t be.” He says easily, like it’s no big deal. You stare at him. “I mean, you hesitated, yeah. But it wasn’t on the field of battle, where it really counts. So no harm done.”

You blink. He shrugs. You look down at your sake cup, and down it quickly. The liquor is starting to take effect, relaxing and warming you.

Zoro gulps his down too. “If I wounded your pride somehow, then I apologize.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, I’m glad you were there. I appreciate what you did. I just need to get over myself.”

“Eh. I think it’s good to have pride. You’re strong, you’ve earned the right.” He refills your cups. “What’s actually tragic is that you’re letting that creep occupy your thoughts. He doesn’t deserve that much, so let it go.”

Again and again, Zoro finds ways to surprise you. You swirl the liquid in your cup, watching it slosh around. He’s right, of course.

“Yeah,” you say, and smile slowly. “Yeah. I’m better than that.”

“Damn right,” Zoro says, and raises his cup to you. “This one’s to us, okay? To warriors.”

“To warriors!” you toast him, then slam back your drink. You grin when you’re done, and Zoro smirks back, pleased that you’re feeling better. Something about his toothy grin makes your head spin, and you’re not sure it’s just the alcohol.

“Thanks for the booze.” Zoro claps a hand on your shoulder, and your cheeks get warm. “I’m glad you talked to me.”

By the time you make it to the bottom of the bottle, you’ve talked into the night, laughing and looking out over the sea, and by then, you’re absolutely certain of one thing.

You’ve caught feelings for Zoro.

#zoro x reader #finished requests #zen writes #x reader

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