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#sometimes I wish they’d come true
saetoru · 1 year
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。NUMBER — SHIDOU RYUSEI.
✩ — contents ⋮ barista! reader, fluff, very annoying yet very sweet boyfriend shidou agenda <3 he’s so romantic in the most vein popping way <3
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shidou loves to bother you at work, it must be his favorite pastime, you think—except now it’s starting to get everyone else at work invested too.
“oh. my. gosh,” you coworker whispers, swatting your arm excitedly, “there’s a guy asking for you—says you made his drink last time.”
“i make a lot of guys drinks,” you shrug.
“yeah but not for guys this cute,” she huffs, “i’m jealous. this is your chance, so don’t ruin it! maybe he’s good in bed too,” she wriggles her brows at you, making you scowl as you roll your eyes.
and then you see it—that mop of blonde hair with those pink ends, and you sigh in exasperation as you walk up to the register.
of course, it’s him.
“hello sir, what can i get for you?” you say monotonously.
“hmm,” shidou grins, tapping his chin as if he’s deeply in thought, “i was just thinking i’d get a drink from a pretty little barista. maybe even a number.”
from the distance, you can see your coworkers stop whatever they’re doing to stare—it’s not like it’s every day that someone this attractive comes in to flirt with a fellow employee. you can just about make out the jealousy in some of their faces and amusement in the others. one thing they all have in common, however, is awe—which you’re not too shocked at, shidou’s admittedly a handsome guy….if you look past how obnoxious he can be, that is.
“what drink would you like?”
“any is fine with me as long as i can get your number as an add on,” he grins, and it’s a wicked grin, really. it’s wide and smug and almost makes him look psychotic. you purse your lips as you shake your head, and distantly, you can hear your earlier coworker groan at your lack of enthusiasm for what you’re sure she’ll later go on to describe as the luckiest experience you’ll ever get.
“that’s not an option we carry here,” you squint, “you must be getting our menu confused for another coffee shop. maybe you should look somewhere else.”
“i don’t know,” he smirks, “i don’t think i’d confuse a pretty face like yours so easily.”
if anyone were to tell you, they’d say shidou ryusei is insufferable. you come to learn this is very true with every possible encounter you have with him, including this one. but there’s something a bit endearing about him, something that’s…dare you say, adorable, despite the way his words are sometimes crass and far from proper. and if the way he’s so persistent for your attention is of any proof, you’d say he’s a pretty determined guy—but you like to see how long you can keep him on his toes.
“i’m sure you say that to all the pretty faces you come across,” you say sarcastically, eyeing him as his smile widens and his eyes glint with amusement.
“nope,” he pops the p as he speaks, “you’re the only one. why, you jealous?”
“you wish,” you snort. “and i can’t give you my number, actually,” you say—and this time, it’s you with a smug grin, catching the eyes of your coworkers as they tilt their heads in confusion, “i have a boyfriend. so i’m afraid it’s simply not possible.”
“oh?” shidou drawls with a raise of his brow, “i bet he’s a loser. bet i could take him in a fight easily. if i win against him, you gotta let me move in with you—how ‘bout that?”
“he is a bit of a loser,” you grin, and anyone could make out the fondness seeping into your voice as your eyes soften at the idea of whoever’s got your heart. “but he’s my loser, so i’m afraid the answers still no.”
“sounds like you love him,” he presses, eyeing you expectantly.
“i don’t know about that one,” you giggle, “he’s still got to prove himself a bit more.”
“that’s harsh,” he hums, “maybe if you gave me your number, i’d prove to be better.”
“sorry, no can do—”
“just give him your number, already!” your coworker cuts you off and huffs, stomping her way over to where you stand. shidou’s got a cheshire grin on his face, eyeing her with that same look of amusement that makes you pinch your nose as you sigh. “you and i both know good and well you don’t have a boyfriend so do yourself a favor and just—”
“and how can you be so sure there’s no boyfriend?” shidou raises his brow.
you try, you really do—but you can’t help but finally crack. it’s a small giggle at first, and then it’s a fit of laughter that makes his eyes soften and his lips quirk into a lopsided beam that’s nothing short of lovesick.
“if you do seem to think there’s a boyfriend in the equation, why pursue someone then?” you coworker raises a brow, arms crossed as she challenges him, “that makes you a jackass, don’t you think?”
“easy,” shidou cackles, leaning in and pressing one, two, three soft pecks to your lips, making everyone gasp as you roll your eyes affectionately, “i’m the boyfriend. sometimes i like to keep the romance alive and fight myself every once in a while.”
“wha—” she’s left speechless, staring at him as she tries to comprehend what he’s just said with her mouth hung. shidou only mocks her opened mouth, and you reach over and swat his shoulder, making him snicker.
“that’s enough, ryu,” you warn—though you don’t sound all that serious. “i’ll be off in ten. are you gonna order anything or just stand there?”
“aw, c’mon baby. ‘course i am,” he pulls out his card, handing it to you, “i’ll take your favorite. you keep it though,” he winks.
“god you’re so annoying,” you mumble, but still, you don’t pull away when he leans for another peck on the lips, even as your coworkers chant a chorus of get a room from the back.
“see you in ten, baby,” he calls over his shoulder, walking off to find himself a seat as he waits for you.
yeah, you think, your coworkers are really going to be invested in this one.
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he’s like…so very sweet and in love but in a very annoying and odd way. like he’d vandalize a building to spray paint your initials together in a heart or something
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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months
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Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?
(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)
I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️
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Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down. 
A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust.  I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further.  Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘
Simon Riley was a one of a kind man. 
He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him. 
Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.
Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.
And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.
Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him. 
After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.
A bedrock. 
With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.
After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.
In real life, things were not that breezy.
Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two? 
What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth? 
It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.
He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.
Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.
And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was. 
He felt safe.
In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects. 
Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?
You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth? 
Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone. 
Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm. 
Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.
Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside. 
.  .  .
Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.
The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.
"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy. 
You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck. 
"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom. 
"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.
"Don't be. This has been fun." 
He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest. 
"But it's about time I torture you, right?"
Oh God…
Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.
He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.
He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant. 
His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.
The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.
"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.
"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.
"You afraid…?" 
"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.
"Mm. That makes two of us." 
He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient. 
Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy. 
He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.
"Alright… Come here."
He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide. 
The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding. 
You feel both lost and found with him. In him.
He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.
Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.
"Simon…?"
"Mm-hm?" 
He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.
"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.
Great… 
Here comes the awkward.
He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.
"Is that so?"
His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.
"Yes…?" 
A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch. 
"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"
Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.
He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower. 
He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.
"Sweetheart."
His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…
"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.
"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.
"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."
You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.
He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.
"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.
I want you.
You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.
"You want it?"
"Yes."
That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.
“You want it with me?”
“Yes.”
"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.
"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.
"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."
Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear. 
His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.
"Oh–" 
He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.
"You like that?"
"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.
"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."
You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.
"Simon?"
"Speak your mind, love."
"Are you disappointed…?"
He stops again, a breath away from you. 
"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"
He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.
"Love, I'm honored."
You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.
"Silly little thing…" 
It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.
You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.
"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."
The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…
"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"
The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside. 
Oh God oh God–
You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.
"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"
You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen. 
"Yes."
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jamjaemin · 1 month
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WET THE BED - J.JAEHYUN
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↳ yeah girl, you heard what i said im gonna make you wet the bed
pairing: dom!jaehyun x (FEM) Reader
genre: smut, little plot, still smut.
content includes: squirting, fingerfucking, overstimulation, mutual masturbation, creampie, daddy kink and pet names.
WC: 3k.
A/N: It's our valentine boy's bday ofc I need to make a fic to celebrate this, happy birthday to daddy jaehyun wish him the best luck in his life, plus thanks for 600 subs omg i cant fr, anyways besties enjoy.
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“You want to watch… Porn together?”
“You say that as if we didn't do this before.”
“Well, true but,” You cleared your throat, arms crossed as you shifted your weight to your other foot, your eyes glancing at the laptop on the bed then at him with faint red tinting your cheeks, “Is there a reason why?”
Jaehyun released his breath through his nose, hand resting on his thigh and the other leaning behind him on the mattress, his eyes showing a hint of fatigue within its pool of lust.
God knows how long he’s been waiting for you in bed, all clothed up with an obvious tent in his pants and an open laptop near the bottom of the mattress.
“I got called in,” He revealed and your eyes widened a bit, “I’m being sent off to Incheon.”
“When?” You asked with a subtle frown.
It didn’t take seconds for him to answer.
“Tomorrow. In the morning.” Jae gestured to the laptop with a faint grin, “Anyway, thought I’d try something with you – maybe even take it with me when I miss you too much.”
Heat rushed up to your face at this and you bit your lip slightly, bringing up your shoulders to your ears for a moment. Jaehyun was never shy when it came to teaching you a few things – in fact, he always approached you with a new idea.
Sometimes, you'd be nervous during your intimate times, wondering if you were doing something wrong or right – and jaehyun always calmed you down and got you to cloud nine before reaching his own clouds.
To him, your pleasure always comes first.
And to you, hearing his moans and heavy breathing next to your ear as he’d mutter praise after praise – he slowly built your confidence towards your sexuality.
With that being said;
“Alright, yeah,” You nodded, his eyes lighting up at your agreement, and you went around the bed to peep at the laptop’s screen, “What is it that you want to try?”
Jaehyun’s smile widened and he patted the spot next to him, “C’mon, I’ll show you.”
Running your hand through your hair to push your bangs away, you sat down next to him, crisscrossed. He reached over to his laptop; of course, Porn*ub wasn’t even in incognito mode. 
Your heart was already rattling in your chest but you kept yourr composure and watched as a couple was seated next to each other. The camera view was from above, giving a full view of the girl’s naked body and the man was straddling her leg, possibly keeping her from even attempting to close up her legs.
As you’d expect, both were completely naked – but the man only had a plaid shirt on. The couple had their faces cut out and when they’d be in the camera’s view, they’d be blurred.
The man had his hands caressing his girl’s body, all the way up to her bosoms then down her curves, enticing her. The girl, to give the same treatment, had her hand around his hard cock, slowly pumping it.
“Jae,” You looked over at jaehyun, seeing him only gesturing with his hand to keep your eyes on the screen and you rolled your eyes at his childish antic but did as told.
Soon enough, the man in the video trailed his hand down to the girl’s cunt, purposefully stroking her clit in circles and receiving moans in return. Her hand sped up just a little around his cock, hearing him also sigh heavily.
Was this all there is?
Foreplay orgasm?
You wanted to check the name of the video but could only see it was about six minutes long. That doesn’t seem like enough for the whole thing. Maybe a toy was involved?
It was a simple mutual masturbation porno.
Looking at Jae from the corner of your eyes, you couldn’t see his intense gaze, being shielded by his curtain fringes – but his lips were parted slightly, and sometimes, you’d catch the faintest sight of his tongue darting to lick his bottom lip.
You weren’t going to lie – a subtle uncomfortable feeling was beginning to form within your lower abdomen.
Louder and louder the girl got when the man finger-fucked her deep and quickly. She purposefully jerked him off, both moaning helplessly. The girl’s sounds got higher and you swallowed thickly; whatever plan Jaehyun had in mind, it was already working.
“baby, is it just this–”
You were cut off when the girl practically shrieked, back arching up when she started gushing.
The clear substance splashed everywhere; on her thighs, and stomach, and even drenched the sheets beneath her. Her moans and whines weren’t stopping, only intensifying when her man pushed on and she came again in no time.
Her hand kept up the relentless pace on his cock, making him groan as his cum spurted out onto her stomach and she whined weakly, having her poor cunt stroked to bring her down from her high. Only heavy breathing filled the quiet atmosphere of their porno.
And so, the video ended.
Your eyes were wide, jaw slacked at what you just saw. Sure, you knew about how a woman can squirt when stimulated right – but you never did it before. It seemed intense and you weren’t the type to be that loud – but apparently, Jaehyun wanted to put that to the test.
He looked over at you, voice visibly lower than usual, “So, you up for it?”
Your body? More than.
Your mind? Absolutely.
It was foreplay but more. Just finger-fucking, but more.
“Uhm,” Your chest felt heavy and you were sure he could hear your heartbeat just the same, and you cleared your throat, clearly flustered, “Yeah, just… A bit nervous.”
Jaehyun gave you a genuine comforting smile, his hand settling on your bare thigh gently, “I’ll take it slow, and–”
“Seemed like he was going like he had a meeting in less than a minute,” You interrupted him with a mutter, making him chuckle at your joke.
“He had a video to put out, but I,” He inched closer, half-lidded brown eyes shamelessly gazing at your lips and then your eyes, “I love to take my time with you, princess. I like our videos longer than six minutes.”
Your eyes darted down to his hand, fingers barely brushing your inner thighs and your eyes fluttered shut with a soft sigh when his lips peppered your neck, trailing up your jawline.
There was never a need to contemplate anything when it came to being fucked out of your mind by none other than jeong jaehyun. He was usually so utterly respectful towards you and your boundaries; a simple stop would cease everything and he’d quickly check up on you.
His stubble scratched your skin so good, lashes giving you butterfly kisses before his lips went up to the corner of your mouth, the tips of his fingers stroking your clothed crotch.
"So?".
Of course, He was a charismatic teasing asshole.
“Mhm,” You nodded, turning to face him but was silenced in an instant once he got your consent.
His lips moulded with yours, the butterflies skyrocketing as he applied more pressure to the kiss, making you lean back against the pile of pillows at the headboard. Your hands went up to his jawline, tugging him closer as he deepened the kiss, enticing a muffled moan from you.
Jaehyun pulled away just a little, using his leg to push the laptop a bit farther and to the side as he leaned over you partially with a smug look, “Already moanin’ for me, baby?”
You huffed at his teasing, “Want me to stay quiet instead?”
Jae chuckled, shaking his head as his lips brushed against yours, “Fair enough.”
As his lips met yours sensually, his hand trailed up under his your shirt, feeling you shiver beneath his touch, and he reached up to your bare chest bc It was no-bra day since you’d be home all day.
He swallowed your whimper with a pleased hum, thumb swiping against your nipple as he kneaded your breast. The pleasure you were feeling was mild but growing the more he progressed and it hit you; he was planning on doing exactly what the couple in the video did.
Except he was fully clothed; grey sweatpants and a simple black plaid shirt.
Your arms went around his neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss and parting your lips just a bit to greet his tongue with yours. Jaehyun’s brows furrowed at the intensity of the moist lip lock alone and could only wonder how noisy your cunt would be.
Luckily, he didn’t need to wonder any longer – and he trailed his hand low, sinking past the hem of your shorts and panties. 
With just a touch on your clit, a hitched sound came from you, forcing you to part from his intoxicating kiss. He gazed down at you with glistening lips forming a small smirk, using just his two fingers to stroke your clit in precise circles.
“Ah, fuck,” You moaned, head tilted back with a heaving chest at the feeling and your legs widened more for his hand. Your shorts restricted you a little, same with him but he made do.
“Hmm~” jaehyun hummed, feeling the slickness of your wetwet pussy, toying with your bundle of nerves steadily, “So wet for me,”
The way he worked you up made you breathless, head heavy with need. Your swollen lips were parted for your moans and whines. Your hand gripped the collar of his shirt, eyes set on the way his hand moved beneath your shorts. You let your eyes trail to the laptop, seeing the small light next to the camera was on. 
Since when did he turn the recording on?
“daddy,” You mumbled, looking up at him pleadingly, hips lifting up a bit to get him to remove your garment, “‘need you.”
Jaehyun snickered, bumping your nose with his, “I’m right here, princess.”
He released your aching clit to remove his hand from inside your shorts only to grip the hem, pushing both the shorts and panties down.
Eagerly, you shuffled out of them before kicking them off the bed and you straightened up to peel your shirt off, making him raise an eyebrow at your actions.
“Someone’s too eager, huh,” He commented, amused but not surprised, taking in every inch of your naked and flawless body right before his eyes.
He wasn’t going to lie.
“Your fault,” You retorted breathlessly, laying back down on the pillows and staring up at him with your big eyes and a smile.
He needed to fuck that smile off of your face.
“I’ll take the blame if I get to hear you calling me daddy again.” Jaehyun muttered lowly, trailing his hand back to where you needed him the most.
You whined when his fingers resumed their merciless rubbing, your hand reaching over to his bulge under his pants, squeezing him gently.
Jae muffled his grunt, nose scrunching up just a split second, glaring at your wandering hand intensely. 
His cock was rock hard beneath his slutty grey sweatpants and you felt it. With his middle and ring finger, he slid them inside your cunt, making your eyes roll to the back of your head and your legs widened comfortably.
Jaehyun started moving his fingers to his knuckles and then out, biting his bottom lip at the faint wet noises. Your hand wriggled past his pants and boxers, tenderly coaxing his cock out where it stood tall and proud. He nearly faltered with a moan of his own, eyes shutting blissfully at the feeling of you stroking his big dick.
“Playing dirty, are we?” Jaehyun growled almost dangerously, staring at you through his bangs and you giggled breathlessly, your other hand going up to cup your bosom.
“Just putting what I watched to the test, daddy” You smiled and your head tilted back when his thrusting sped up, moaning.
Your sounds were truly heavenly to him.
Deep and deep he went, your gasp ended up hitched in your throat when he brushed past your sweet spot. In an instant, his smirk widened along with the devilish glint in his pupil-blown eyes.
And just like that, Jae went relentless.
His rough fucking against your spot directly ripped high-pitched moan after the other. Tears stung your needy eyes, writhing beneath him at the intense stimulation alone. His leg went over yours, keeping your thighs from clamping up and his other hand went over yours that was around his cock.
Jaehyun released a low moan as he moved and grounded into your hand, “Keep it up, baby – and I’ll fuck this cunt and cum inside of you.”
As if that was even a threat to you – you wanted him to cum inside.
But the mutual masturbation right now was your priority. You loved feeling his heavy cock in your petite hand, every vein and curve along with the blunt red tip – you’d do it every day if you ever got the chance.
The audible sounds of your soaking pussy were getting louder and Jaehyun fucked you harder and deeper, making you squeal and your hand shot down to grip the sheets.
You were unable to stay still as you tried to keep jerking him off. Your moans blended with his and Jae’s head dipped to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, his sounds coming out airy and low as his hips moved along with your hand’s movements.
“Wa–wait, I feel – shit, jae–” You couldn’t even voice your thoughts, crying out at the squelching noise of your drenching pussy. It was as if you needed to use the bathroom but Jaehyun knew it wasn’t the case.
“It’s alright, baby,” He groaned, hissing as your hand on his cock sped up, pumping and rubbing him purposefully, “Just let yourself go, f–fuck.”
As if all you needed were the magic words, you cried out at the orgasm that hit you – and it hit you hard.
Jaehyun didn't stop his ruthless violation of your spot, rubbing it harder along with his palm pressed flat against your throbbing pearl. And you gushed endlessly. Your shriek came out loud as your back arched off the bed, eyes shutting tightly as your legs trembled. 
"Oh fuck, Baby-mmh~" Jaehyun bit his lip hard at you coming undone, "That's it, keep cumming for me, princess."
Your cum dripped and rolled down your thighs and cunt, some splashed on your lower abdomen. Your chest heaved along with your abdominals when he slowed down, bringing his fingers out to caress your visibly pulsating clit.
"Sh– Shi– it," You whispered shakily, a sheer surface of sweat glistening your chest and forehead at how worn out your body already was. Your orgasm was still around the corner and jaehyun wanted to try something – again.
Overstimulation.
A choked gasp came from you when Jaehyun slid his fingers inside again and your eyes widened at his relentless finger-fucking. It was as if he went even deeper due to your cum being everywhere.
"F-fuck! Ah!" You shrieked, nearly squeaking at him fucking you harder and harder. You didn't even want to stop him, letting sensitivity hit you along with the fuck ton of fiery pleasure.
You weren't even aware of your hand still stroking his hard cock and his breathing quickened, removing his fingers. Jae shifted with a grunt so he was hovering partially over you, giving him the perfect position to piston into your cunt with his massive dick.
"daddy!" You cried out, your hands grasping onto his broad shoulders.
"Yeah, just like that," Jaehyun whispered, unable to stop fucking you mercilessly as if making you one of the mattress. He pushed himself to the hilt, making you choke up on your moan with wide eyes.
He took the moment to peel off his shirt and his pants, then he gripped the back of your knee to press your leg to your chest. His hips snapped against yours bruisingly, moaning lowly under his breath.
Tears rolled down your temple, feeling the knot tightening again. Jaehyun felt you squeeze around him, making him hiss through gritted teeth.
"Ye-yes please~!" You squealed out, and he hovered over you, ushering you to wrap your leg around his waist to free his hand.
"I'll fucking miss you, and I'll miss," Jae growled, gripping the pillow next to your head and the other went down to your sensitive clit, "Fuckin' you babygirl–ah~"
With his big and heavy cock assaulting and brushing your poor cervix and his fingers ruthless on your poor clit, your orgasm washed over you. The hot white pleasure flashed before your rolled eyes, cumming hard that you drenched the sheets once again.
Jaehyun cussed under his breath, hitching at the end as he pushed himself deepdeep, hitting cloud nine. He thought he went blind for a split second, drawling out a deep moan. His cum shot out and filled you up – and then overfilled you. 
He fucked you gently, eyes half-lidded gazing down at his hot cum seeping out from your cunt. He eased you down from your high, rubbing your clit as you shook uncontrollably beneath him. He panted heavily, smiling softly at your state.
Your eyes were hazy, fading in and out with a trembling chest and legs. Your dripping cunt was twitching every once in a second. Your face was red, drool rolling down the corner of your wet lips.
You were officially fucked out of your mind.
Jaehyun kept himself inside as your leg dropped down to the bed and he leaned closer to you, his clean hand cradling your cheek to get you to look at him.
"Still with me, baby?" He asked breathily and you blinked lazily.
"We… We should do this again," You whispered tiredly, making him laugh a bit and you giggled.
Jaehyun pressed a chaste kiss on your lips, fingers trailing to brush your hair behind your ear and he hummed against the kiss.
Pulling back, he gazed at you lovingly as he stayed close, earning a soft smile from you.
"When I come back, we'll do whatever you want, okay?"
You nodded slightly, "Promise daddy?"
Jaehyun leaned his forehead against yours with a heavy relaxed sigh.
"Promise."
by jamjaemin, don’t claim or copy my work!♡
825 notes · View notes
maddddstuff · 2 months
Text
Relentless
Shanks is relentless as he hits on you in a bar. Toxic behaviour from him but reader likes it I promise. Some angst, some smut, some fluff. There's a fair amount of buildup before the smut, but if you're patient i promise it's there lmfao
Pairing: Shanks x f!reader
CW: Mentions of gambling, bad family dynamic, semi-toxic Shanks, he's very persistent, reader is rude but she's valid for it, jealousy, groping, penetrative sex, oral (f and m receiving), size kink, belly bulge, brat taming (kind of), overstimulation, slight dumbification, dom shanks, bratty reader, age gap though not really touched on (reader in 20s, Shanks late 30s), slight daddy kink (mentioned only once), aftercare, happy ending
WC: 7.2k (im sorry i dont know how that happened 😭)
18+ MDNI
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You’re sitting at the bar, nursing your drink as you trace the grooves in the wooden bar. You do your best to ignore the chaos around you, not wanting to participate in the revelry. New pirates come in and out of this bar every day, always celebrating something. After more than two decades in this town, you were used to the revolving door.
When you were younger, a life at sea had appealed to you. You’d dreamt of leaving this small island behind and embracing adventure. However, family commitments had held you back. Now, you were free of those commitments, but you stayed put in your steady life. Sure, you had the freedom to leave now, but after so long, a life of adventure no longer appealed to you. Or at least, it scared you more than it appealed to you. You supposed that you still felt the call of the sea sometimes, but you’d grown so used to ignoring it that you almost didn’t feel the yearning deep inside of you.
Tonight, you were drinking alone at the only bar in your town because you felt like your life was falling apart.
Your father had been the only person in your life for as long as you could remember. You wished that you could remember him fondly, but the only memories you had associated with him were negative.
He had been a gambler. You had memories dating back to your childhood of leaving your house in the middle of the night with as much Berry as you could find to bail him out of yet another "bad hand".
He’d grown sick when you were 15 and had stopped working. He’d kept gambling though, so you’d had to pick up odd jobs around town whenever you could to make enough Berry to finance his addiction.
He’d finally died 6 months ago. You imagined that you should have felt sad, but in reality, all you felt was relief. Finally, you were no longer responsible for bailing him out. You could focus on yourself. You were finally at peace.
Unfortunately, today the other shoe had dropped. Somewhere along the way, your father had accumulated an insane amount of debt to the thugs from a neighbouring town. They’d come by early in the morning today to collect.
You’d been completely blindsided. You had given them all the money you had, choking back tears as you felt years of your hard work slip away. It hadn’t been enough, not even close. The leader had bent down to be eye level with you, a menacing sneer on his face as he informed you that he’d be taking your house instead.
Now, you sat in the bar and fought back tears as you wondered what you’d do tonight. You had very few friends, and it didn’t feel right to ask them for help. You felt bad enough about the drink in your hand. The barkeep had taken one look at you and set it down, saying it was on the house.
You lifted your head to survey the patrons of the bar, wondering if you could go home with any of them. You laughed bitterly at the thought.
Pirates were notoriously greasy, and these pirates didn’t appear to be any exception. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. A certain red-haired pirate was laughing at a table, a huge mug of ale in his hand. He didn’t look too greasy. His eyes flicked up and met yours from across the room.
You ducked your head, swivelling back to face the bar. You shook your head as if that would rid you of the thoughts. It was time to think seriously. The weather wasn’t too bad, maybe you could just crash outside? Though, with how many strange men you saw around, you doubted you’d get a wink of sleep if you slept somewhere exposed. You'd be far too anxious.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone settle into the seat right next to you. You frowned. The seats around the bar were mostly empty, so there was no reason for someone to sit right next to you.
You lifted your head with a scowl, annoyed that someone had disturbed your wallowing. You were momentarily stunned to see none other than the red-haired pirate from before. Now that he was closer, you realized that he had three scars over his left eye. Ordinarily, you weren’t fond of scars. However, his accentuated his features and made him appear even more attractive.
Your eyes widened when you realized he was missing his left arm. You quickly looked back up at his face, schooling your expression.
He grinned at you, clearly enjoying how you were ogling him. Gods, get a hold of yourself, you internally scolded, annoyed that you’d lost your composure so easily.
He takes his time admiring every inch of you. His eyes rake appreciatively up your long, exposed legs. He takes his time moving them up to your chest, grin widening as he takes in the sight. When his eyes finally lift back to your face, you’re scowling even more.
He leans in, resting an arm on the bar. You stiffen as he enters your personal space.
“Can I help you?” You finally snap.
“Cranky, are we?” He laughs.
You roll your eyes, annoyed. You turn back to the bar, decidedly ignoring him.
“Maybe I can make your bad mood all better,” He teases.
“Fuck off,” You growl, taking a sip of your drink.
He bursts out laughing. It’s a nice sound, you decide. Though you wish he weren’t quite so close to your ear. You cringe a bit at how loud he is, ear ringing even after his laughter fades.
“Pretty mouth like yours shouldn’t be using bad words like that,” His eyes glitter as he continues to tease you. “Do you like being bad?”
You turn to face him, fed up with his lame attempts at flirting. You blink in surprise when you realize just how close his face is to yours. Your noses are almost touching. You recover quickly.
“What is your problem?” Your teeth are gritted. It had been a long day, and you really didn’t need this right now.
“You wanna know what my problem is?” He asks, tone suggestive as his eyes flick down to your full lips and linger.
You move to get up and leave, pretty certain you can guess what he’s going to say. Honestly, did men have no shame anymore?
He grabs your wrist as you spin away from him, keeping you from leaving. His grip is firm, though not tight enough to hurt. It feels more… possessive than anything else. A delicious shiver runs down your spine at that realization, but you do your best to push it aside. It didn’t matter how handsome this red-haired man was, now wasn’t the right time for you to be playing around with some guy.
He stands as well, stepping in close to you. You remain rooted in place, waiting for his next move. Now that you’re both standing, you can appreciate how tall he is. He towers over you. Your head barely reaches to his collarbone, if that.
His head drops, mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Yeah, that breaks the spell. You wrench your arm from his grip and shove him. “Where do you get off thinking you can just grab me like that!” You spit.
He doesn’t budge, despite you shoving him with all your might. He appears unfazed and chuckles at your meagre attempts to send him packing.
“You have a lot of spirit, don’t you?” He sounds appreciative, as though that’s something he admires in a person.
“And you have a whole lotta nerve. Can’t you take a hint?” Though, if you were being wholly honest with yourself you were glad that he wasn’t leaving. Bickering with him was doing a great job of taking your mind off the struggles of your real life. It didn't hurt that he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life. It was addicting, having his undivided attention on you. You were really enjoying this game of cat and mouse, and secretly wished he wasn't going to be scared off by your words.
He grins, leaning in closer. “I like women who play hard to get,” he winks playfully.
“Gods,” You mutter, turning away from him and finding a new seat further down the bar. You pick a stool between two people so that he can’t sit next to you again. The barkeep, seemingly amused by the whole ordeal, grabs your half-finished drink and slides it down to you at your new spot. You mutter a quick thanks.
The man leans against the bar right next to you, practically squeezing some stranger out of his seat. He ignores the stranger, still focused only on you. “Wanna know something?”
You groan. Of course he would squeeze into a tiny space to be next to you. It had been naïve of you to think that would stop him.
He laughs at the sound, reaching up to toy with the ends of your hair as he leans his head down to keep talking. “You have really pretty hair. It was the first thing I noticed about you.”
You turn to eye his hair. “Wish I could say the same for you.”
That was a lie. You really liked his hair. It was such a unique shade of red, and the way it caught the dim light of the bar was mesmerizing. But his ego was clearly way too big already, you didn’t need to feed into it.
He just chuckles, continuing to toy with the ends of your hair. “Someone’s feeling bitchy tonight, aren’t they?”
“That’s fucking rich.” You smack his hand away from your hair, standing up to glower at him. “You harass me and then when I fight back you call me a bitch? Real fucking classy.”
“I see I’ve struck a nerve!” He sounds amused, pleased to have elicited such a response from you.
You scowl and spin away from him.
Of course, he doesn’t let you leave. “C’mon, does it really bother you so much that a handsome man is giving you so much attention?”
“Not sure who you’re talking about there, because I certainly don’t find you handsome. Though, it’s not surprising that you’re so full of yourself.” You mutter as you make a beeline for the dance floor, hoping to lose him. It occurs to you that you don’t even know this guy’s name. You don’t want to ask it though, afraid he’ll take that as an invitation to pick you up and haul you away to his ship.
You can hear him chuckle behind you, but you ignore him. You find the perfect target, some random man on the dance floor. He’s alone and looks a bit out of place. He seems nervous, though not so much so that he’ll up and run away from you. You head straight for him, smiling broadly when he notices you.
You dance with the stranger. His hands settle on your hips as he sways with you. You can feel the red-haired pirate’s eyes on you, but you pointedly ignore him. You barely even look at your dance partner, too focused on ignoring your pursuer and hoping he’s feeling jealous. Maybe, if he’d been a tad bit nicer, you would’ve been dancing with him instead.
Shanks watches you move from a short distance away. He settles against the wall, prepared to stay put for as long as necessary. He’s completely in awe of you. Your movements are so graceful, so fluid. He doesn’t even care that you’re dancing with someone else. He just enjoys watching you.
Beckmann leans beside him on the wall, eyes on the girl Shanks had been relentlessly pursuing. “What’s her name?” He asks, voice gruff.
Shanks pauses for a moment, before laughing. “I don’t know!”
Beckmann frowns. “You’ve been chasing her all over the bar and you don’t even know her name?”
Shanks shrugs, still laughing.
The older man shakes his head with a sigh. “You’ve never been good at meeting people.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean!?”
“You come on too strong. Scares them off.”
“I seem to have done alright. I have a whole crew! They all liked me enough to join!”
Beckmann laughs. “That's a terrible example. Most of these men are not normal. Flirting with a girl is different.”
Shanks raises a brow at his first mate. “I do alright with girls, but thanks.”
“Yeah, 'cause they all know who you are and throw themselves at you, desperate for the chance to sleep with an emperor! It’s different when you’re the one pursuing them.”
Shanks is about to protest, but one cutting look from the other man shuts him up. He’s still thinking of a response when he sees you grab your dance partner's hand and start to lead him to the door. He stiffens, not wanting to see you go home with someone else. Your eyes flick to his, so quick he’s not sure you even realized. But the motion makes him grin. It confirmed that you were doing this for his benefit. You didn’t actually have any interest in your dance partner.
He pushes off the wall, hurrying to the door to cut you off before you have the chance to leave.
“Be normal!” Beckmann calls out from behind him.
You’re almost out of the bar when your path is interrupted by a towering man. You look up to see the pirate smiling down at you. “No, sweetheart. You’re going home with me.”
“Can’t you see I’m spoken for?” You gesture to your dance partner, who’s standing cluelessly behind you by the door. The redhead glares at him over your shoulder, and your partner scurries off.
“Traitor,” You mutter.
He chuckles. “Did you really think I’d be worried about that boy? No, I’m perfectly confident in my ability to take you home.”
You cross your arms. “All you’ve done is hound me. Why would I ever leave with you?”
He places his hand on your hip, large fingers splaying as he pulls you closer. With his mouth next to your ear, and his voice low he murmurs, “Because, sweetheart, I know how to properly take care of a woman.”
You shiver at his words. You can feel your panties growing damp as a thousand possibilities rush through your mind. You push them away with a shake of your head and narrow your eyes at him.
“I know your kind. You’re a flirt. Sure, you’re focused on me tonight, but tomorrow you’ll be right back at the bar, searching for your next target. I have no interest in being another notch on your bedpost.” You try to keep your voice light, though the slight quiver hints at the very real insecurity behind your words.
He lifts his hand from your waist to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Sweetheart, I did not come to the bar tonight with the intention of finding a girl. You took me by surprise, and I’ve been… how did you put it? Hounding you!” He grins as he quotes you, “Because I want you. I really want you. That’s not going to change tomorrow. You’re perfect, and I’d be an idiot to let you slip through my fingers. I want you tonight �� several times, hopefully,” You blush at the innuendo. “I’ll want you tomorrow morning, tomorrow night, and every day after that.”
“And what, I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”
He tilts your chin so you make eye contact with him. His eyes burn into yours. “Maybe I can back it up with my actions instead?”
His voice is sensual, and lust burns through you at his words. You flush, unable to respond as your mouth hangs. He grins, pleased with your reaction. He drops his hand from your chin to grab your hand, and he tugs you out of the bar.
You stumble behind him before deciding that this is exactly what you need. This man made you feel more aroused than you’d thought possible, and he’d barely even touched you.
You hurry to keep up with him, his long legs easily outpacing yours as he rushes you excitedly down to the docks.
“My first mate pointed out that I tend to go about introductions all wrong,” He tosses his head back as he laughs. “What’s your name?”
You study his profile as you continue walking, starting to wonder if he’s perhaps insane. You tell him your name, and he grins. “Good name. Suits you! I’m Shanks.” The name sounds familiar, but you’re not sure why. He stops suddenly and lets go of your hand to hold his out professionally, face solemn.
Your gaze flicks between his face and his outstretched hand. Slowly, you reach for his hand to shake it. He nods, satisfied. Immediately, he grabs your hand again and keeps pulling you towards the ship.
“You’re slow,” He complains.
“Sorry I’m not fucking huge! Your legs are twice the size of mine!”
“Maybe I should just carry you,” Shanks laughs.
“I really don’t think that’s–” He lets go of your hand to scoop you up. He moves so fast, you’re not sure how he does it, but one second, you’re standing next to him and the next you’re on his back.
You can’t help the startled laugh that bubbles out of you as you tighten your arms around his neck, holding on tight as he speeds towards his ship. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist to keep you secured on his back. His arm twists behind his back to help support your weight as you near the docks.
Your jaw drops as a massive ship comes into view. It stands proud with a red and gold trim, a jolly roger that resembles your red-haired companion painted onto the main sail. It’s the nicest ship you’d ever seen, and you’d seen a lot of pirate ships pass through your coastal town.
“You like her? She’s called the Red Force. Best ship out there, I promise you that.” Shanks grins, and you can hear genuine pride in his voice.
“It's beautiful,” You breathe. He sets you down in front of the ramp, turning to face you again.
“I’d offer you a tour, but there will be time for that later,” He grabs your hand again and leads you up the ramp onto the deck. He walks slower now, so you no longer have to jog to match his pace. You enjoy how his much larger hand dwarfs yours as he guides you along. You feel safe in his hold. Safe in a way you hadn’t felt in a while.
Once on the deck, you pause to look up at the sky. It was well past dark now, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Your breath caught as you admired the stars. There were so many filling the sky. It was beautiful.
You look back to Shanks, eyes bright. You find him already staring at you, a thoughtful smile on his face.
“What?” You ask, almost nervously.
He steps closer to you, moving his hand from yours to wrap an arm around your waist. He pulls your lower body flush against his in a swift movement that makes you gasp. Breathlessly, you stare at him.
“I’d quite like to kiss you now,” His eyes are trained on your lips.
You nod, “That would be okay.”
He grins, then tilts his face down. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. He pauses there for just a moment before closing the distance and pressing his lips to yours.
His lips are surprisingly soft as they caress your own. The kiss is gentle, different from what you’d expected from him. It feels intimate, contradictory to the relentless was he pursued you earlier.
He pulls away slowly, as though reluctant to part from your lips. You share the feeling.
“Come,” He says quietly. This is a new side to Shanks, but you find you’re enjoying it. It feels nice to know that he’s taking this seriously. He can do more than just joke around, it seems. It reassures you that he meant what he'd said earlier.
He leads you down into the belly of the ship. You turn so many times you feel yourself getting lost before he finally stops in front of a large wooden door.
He looks almost nervous as he pushes it open. You step in first, taking in the sight of his bedroom. It was pretty big, much bigger than you’d expected for a room aboard a ship. His bed sat in the middle, made with red sheets. Your lips twitched at the sight. It seemed red was a consistent theme for your new pirate friend.
Standing in his room feels more intimate than you’d thought it would. You turned back to face him, finding his eyes glued to your face. Unsure how to cope with the unfamiliar feelings rising in your chest, you opt for a physical response instead.
Your hands reach up to cup his face, pulling him down to you. Your lips meet his in a kiss far more passionate than the last time. He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp. He takes advantage of your parted lips and slips his tongue into your mouth to tangle with yours. This kiss is far more what you'd expected from a man like him.
A moan leaves you as you taste him. Sake, mostly, but also something else. A taste that was distinctly him. It was addicting.
Shanks pushes you farther into his room, shutting the door with his foot as he goes. His hand reaches up to tangle in your hair, holding you against him as he continues to kiss you.
You’d had kisses before. Some had been good, some had been bad. This one though? This was on another level. He kissed you like his life depended on it. You felt dizzy from the attention he was giving you. You never wanted him to stop. It was breathtaking and mind-numbing. It was perfect.
The back of your legs hit the mattress and you sat down hard. Shanks breaks the kiss, and you almost whine at the loss. He smirks, not missing the pout you make.
You try to steady your breathing as he pulls his shirt off. You’d quickly lost control of the situation. He had been pursuing you all night, and you’d planned on making him pay for that in the bedroom. You were hoping he’d even beg a little. But his confidence had changed. He no longer seemed cocky in a way that demanded you knock him down a few pegs. Instead, he exuded the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Your instinct was to follow his lead. But no, you hardened your resolve. You vowed to take back control of the situation.
You almost lost your resolve the second he tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it on the ground behind him. Your mouth waters at the sight of his strong body. Your hand lifted of its own accord to trace over the ridges of his abdomen. He drew in a sharp breath, muscles flexing, when you scraped a nail down the red happy trail disappearing into his pants.
One large hand grabbed yours, halting your movements before you could continue your path down to his clothed cock. The lighting in the room was dim, but you could see the evidence of his arousal straining against his pants. Even through the clothing, you could tell he was huge. You grew wetter at the sight, and your mouth watered at the thought of getting to taste him.
“Take your shirt off,” He commands, voice laced with lust. You almost do as you’re told before remembering that you were supposed to be giving him a hard time. It was only fair, really. So instead of taking your shirt off, you ignored him and raised your other hand to undo his belt.
Shanks frowns as you ignore him, but he doesn’t protest as you tug his pants down. He’s left standing in only his boxers, while you remain fully clothed in front of him.
You cup him through his boxers, eyes widening as you get an idea of just how big he is. You relish the way he groans under your touch. The hand on yours goes slack, and you pull free from his grip. Slowly, you tug his boxers down.
You gasp as his freed cock slaps lewdly against his stomach. He was huge. How were you going to fit him inside of you? You reached a hand up to wrap around the base of his cock, whimpering when you realize your fingers don’t touch. With your arm up now, you flicked your eyes between his cock and your forearm, eyes growing wide as you realize they were about the same size.
Shanks watches you from above with an amused expression, lips curled into a smug smirk. He was no stranger to this reaction. He was aware that he was much larger than the average man. But he wasn’t worried. He knew it would fit.
“You’re fucking huge!” You exclaim, almost accusatorily.
He bursts out laughing, which does nothing to ease your growing concerns.
“You’re going to kill me with this thing!” Your eyes flick between his cock, annoyed to find it twitching in your hand at your words. The tip is an angry shade of red as it leaks milky precum. Stressed though you were, you had to admit he had a beautiful cock. You desperately wished to take him into your mouth, though you knew there was no way you'd be able to fit much of him down your throat.
“I can’t believe you harassed me all night just to lure me back to your ship so you could kill me,” You muttered.
Shanks pushes on your shoulder, forcing you back on the bed. He leans down over you so that your noses are touching. His eyes sparkle with amusement.
“I promise it will be fine, sweetheart. We’re gonna make it fit, okay? I’m gonna take my time getting you ready for me, and then you’re going to take my cock like a good girl. And you’re going to like it.” He kisses the tip of your nose with a wink before working his lips down your neck, leaving marks behind as he goes.
You relax underneath him, fear leaving you as you get lost in the pleasure he’s giving you.
“Touch me,” You order.
He lifts his head, an amused expression on his face. “You’ll have to be a little more specific than that, sweetheart.”
“You know what I want,” You scowl. You tangle a hand in his hair and push his head further down your body until his face is hovering over your clothed cunt.
Shanks laughs softly as you manhandle him, but doesn’t object. He kneels at the foot of the bed with your cunt right in front of him. He flips your skirt up and drapes your legs over his shoulder. He presses one lingering kiss to your still-covered clit.
“Take your shirt off,” he orders again, eyes burning into yours. You almost moan at the sight of him between your legs. It takes you a moment to register his words, but when you do you scowl.
“You don’t get to boss me around. That’s not how this works.”
“I think you’ll find I like being in charge. I also think you’ll find that you like it too.” He smirks from between your legs.
“I doubt it. If you want my shirt off so bad do it yourself.”
He stands. Your legs fall off his shoulders as he moves, making you frown. He bites the top of your shirt, lifting his hand up to grab the fabric next to his mouth.
“What are you–”
In one smooth motion, Shanks rips open the front of your shirt, revealing the bra underneath.
“You gonna be a good girl and take that off for me, or do I need to rip it too?”
“What the fuck?” You exclaim, propping yourself up on your elbows. Before you can continue yelling at him, he shoves two fingers into your mouth.
Your eyes widen in surprise as you sputter around them. He drops back down to his knees, using his teeth to tug your panties off.
Without wasting a moment, he dives in to devour your needy cunt. As much as his fingers in your mouth annoyed you, you couldn’t deny that it turned you on even more. You were dripping on his tongue as he traced the muscle around your hole. His appreciative groan as he tasted your juices reverberated through your body, making you arch up off the bed.
He alternates between flicking his tongue over your throbbing clit and pumping it in and out of your weeping hole. You clench around him with each thrust of his tongue, the feeling driving you wild. Your moans are muffled by his fingers as your eyes roll back in your head.
Shanks moans almost as much as you do while he eats you out. You're the best thing he’s ever tasted, and he can't get enough. He grinds his cock against the bed as he continues pleasuring you, desperate for some friction to ease the ache.
You are rapidly approaching you high under his skilled tongue. Your chest heaves as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten. You try to warn him, but can't get the words out past his fingers. Your hips buck, meeting every thrust of his tongue as you loose control of your body, focused solely on chasing your high.
You cum around his tongue with a muffled cry. He laps your juices up eagerly as you clench desperately around him. He groans at the thought of you clenching around his cock later in a similar way.
Slowly, he tugs his fingers out of your mouth as you come down from your high. A string of spit connects the digits to your lips and drool drips down your chin, but you're still too far gone to feel embarrassed. Shanks enjoys the sight of you unraveled and messy before him.
He brings his fingers down to your opening and pushes them both in slowly. You groan at the stretch.
“Fuck, so tight sweetheart,” Shanks murmurs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. The action makes you whimper.
Your hands tangle in the bedsheets to ground yourself as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you rapidly. He scissors the long digits as he goes, efficiently opening you up for him as he prepares you to take his cock.
When he adds a third finger, you cum around him again. Your back arches off the mattress as you cry out, clenching hard around his fingers as you drench his hand.
Shanks grins, loving the sight of you cumming because of him. He tries to keep going, eager to see you cum again, but you reach down to weakly grab his wrist and halt his movements.
“S’too much, Shanks.” You whimper.
He reluctantly pulls his fingers out, taking in the sight of you breathless and sweaty before him.
“Think I like you even better like this,” He murmurs, tracing an appreciative finger down your flushed face. You sigh as he unwittingly smears your own juices down the side of your face. He blushes at the sight and quickly licks it off, making you roll your eyes.
You don’t have the energy to argue with him anymore, so you take the compliment and his actions silently.
Your eyes drift back down to his hard cock. You reach a tired hand out, wanting to feel the weight of him again. His size no longer scares you. Honestly, you're too blissed out to feel fear. You just want him inside of you. Though, you were still a little too overstimulated. You could think of a few things to do in the meantime.
Your hand closes around his tip. You glide your thumb over his slit, spreading the considerable amount of precum around the flushed head of his cock.
He watches your movements, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. You start to move your hand up and down his shaft, relishing the feel of the veins beneath your fingers. He moans as his cock twitches in your hand with every pass.
You squeeze him tighter, enjoying how responsive he is. His head tilts back as his breathing picks up.
Unable to help yourself, you lean forward to lick at his slit, collecting some of the precum on your tongue before swallowing it down. You moan at the taste of him, even better than you’d imagined.
His eyes snap open as he looks down at you, surprised. You smile almost shyly as you continue to lick your way down his cock, and then back up.
You know he’s too big for you to fit the whole thing in your mouth, but you want to try your best anyway. You start with just the tip, suckling on it and enjoying the fresh wave of precum spreading over your tongue. Already, you feel so full. You shut your eyes, focused wholly on the feel of his cock in your mouth.
You push your head down as far as you can before gagging, but you really can’t take much of him in your mouth. He seems to enjoy your efforts, though, so you’re not too upset about it.
You pump his cock with both of your hands in time with the movements of your mouth. His hand tangles in your hair as he loses himself to the pleasure you’re providing him. Tears bead in the corner of your eyes as you continue to push your limits.
Not long after, he’s pulling you off of him with a reluctant sigh. The lewd pop of your mouth being pulled off his cock makes you blush. You pout as you lose the taste of him on your tongue, which makes him laugh a bit.
“Lay down, sweetheart,” He murmurs. “Head on the pillows. And get rid of your bra, too.”
You feel a fresh wave of arousal rush through your core in anticipation. You do as he says without complaint, which pleases him. You've lost the will to fight with him, too caught up in the pleasure he gives you. You toss the tattered remains of your shirt on the ground, and your bra is quick to follow.
He groans at the sight of your exposed tits. You cup them, feeling heady under his lustful gaze. You pinch your nipples, which makes you moan. He lets out a similar sound at the sight of you playing with your pretty tits for him to see.
He moves up the bed until he’s hovering over you. You spread your legs to make room for him between them, and his cock twitches at the sight of your exposed cunt.
He kneels between your legs, rubbing his cock through your folds to gather the slickness there. You gasp as his tip makes contact with your sensitive clit.
He lines himself up with your entrance before leaning down so that his bare chest is pressed against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist to open yourself up better for him. He kisses you sensually as he slowly pushes into your opening.
Even after he’d stretched you out, it was still a stretch to accommodate his size. You whimper as he pushes in, the size of him making your walls burn.
Shanks murmurs gentle praises into your ear as he kisses down your neck, telling you what a good job you're doing for him, how good you feel around his cock, and how pretty you look underneath him.
Tears well up in your eyes as the stretch becomes too much. He pauses then, seeing you're struggling and letting you adjust. He kisses the tears from the corner of your eyes, continuing to praise you softly.
You give him a nod when the pain fades, urging him to continue. You're breathless, unable to form words as he continues to split you open.
Finally, you feel him bottom out inside of you. You hear him laugh in delight above you, which makes you open your eyes to focus on his face. He's looking down at your stomach, eyes sparkling.
You follow his gaze and whimper when you spy the bulge in your stomach, the outline in the shape of his cock.
“Fuck, Shanks,” You whine. “So deep in me… feel so full.”
He grins above you, nipping at your neck. “Press on it for me, sweetheart.”
You do as you’re told, eyes rolling back as the pleasure intensifies under the pressure of your hand. Shanks groans above you, clearly enjoying the feeling as well.
“Keep your hand there. Want you to feel me thrusting in and out of you,”
You nod obediently, too dazed out to argue. He hasn’t even really started fucking you, and you’ve already gone dumb around his cock. The sight makes him smug.
He slides out slowly, only pulling his cock out halfway. You cry out when he pushes back in, the pleasure already so intense. He carries on like that, giving you slow, shallow thrusts while you adjust to his size. He can feel the moment you're ready for more, and he sets a more aggressive pace.
Shanks slams his hips against yours in hard and fast strokes as he fucks in and out of your tight cunt relentlessly. You can do nothing but moan as he consistently hits that sensitive spot deep inside of you, sending you spiralling towards yet another orgasm.
You're careful to keep your hand pressed to your abdomen, the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you feeling indecent under your hand. Your cheeks flame with each stroke.
Shanks is careful to keep his hips pressed down against yours to grind his pelvic bone against your clit with each thrust, stimulating you in the most delicious way.
Your nails dig into his shoulder as you feel the coil in your stomach snap. You cum with a sharp cry as your whole body shakes underneath him.
He groans as you clench hard around his cock. He into you, working you through your orgasm, and loving the dazed-out look in your eyes.
“You still with me?” He asks when he sees tears gather in your eyes again.
You nod, struggling to form words in the post-orgasmic bliss. “Feels so good, Shanks. It-it’s so much. T-too much I th-think, but I d-don’t want you to st-stop.”
He chuckles over you as he continues to pound his cock into you, blunt tip hitting your cervix every time. “I won’t stop sweetheart, don’t worry. Doing so fucking good for me, making me so proud. I knew there was a good girl in you, buried underneath all that attitude.”
You can’t formulate a reply as he fucks you dumb with his perfect cock.
“Want you to cum again for me. Can you do that, give me one more? Want us to cum together this time.” He pants. You can tell by his glazed eyes and flushed cheeks that he’s getting close. You are too, though honestly, you’re not sure if you ever came down from your last orgasm. Either way, you can feel the familiar pressure threatening to take you under once again.
“Yes, Daddy,” You whimper underneath him, struggling to hold your climax off so that you can cum together like he wants.
“Fuck,” Shanks drops his head to the crook of your neck at the title, unable to stop his orgasm from washing over him.
You feel his cock twitch inside of you as he paints your walls white with his seed. You’d never let anyone cum inside of you before, and the feeling of his warm seed filling you up sends you careening off the edge of your own high.
Your back arches off the mattress as you thrash under Shanks, your orgasm washing over you in sudden, powerful waves. He bites your shoulder to ground himself as your clenching cunt strangles his sensitive cock in the best way.
He keeps himself securely inside of your warmth while you come down from your high, unwilling to part from you so soon. You settle underneath him as your orgasm passes, gasping for breath but no longer shaking quite so much.
He presses soft kisses all over your face as he waits for you to come back to him. Your eyes flutter open slowly, and you're met with his smiling face. You smile back, feeling light and giddy after your orgasms.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, voice soft.
“Hi, Shanks,” You whisper back.
“I love the sound of my name on your lips,” He gives you a playful wink.
You giggle, half-heartedly swatting at his shoulder.
Slowly, he pulls his softening cock out of you. You whine at the loss, and even more so when he rolls off of you.
He grins and kisses you softly, “I’ll be right back.”
You nod, reluctant to see him go.
True to his word, he comes right back with a wet washcloth in his hands and grey sweatpants slung low over his hips.
You will your tired muscles to listen to you as you struggle to push yourself up into a seated position. You aren’t really sure what to do now. You know Shanks said that he wanted you for longer than just tonight, but if you were being realistic that had probably just been a line to get you into bed. And it had worked. Your cheeks flush with shame. How stupid and gullible were you?
You had nowhere to sleep tonight, so maybe you should just stay here? That is if he didn’t kick you out. Oh god, that would be so embarrassing.
Oblivious to the dark turn your thoughts had taken, Shanks sits down on the bed next to you, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
You stiffen under his touch. If he wanted you gone, why was he being nice to you? That would only make it hurt more when he inevitably kicked you out.
He frowns as you freeze and refuse to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asks, suddenly worried that he’d gone too far. He hadn’t exactly been gentle with you. What if he’d hurt you? He’d thought you were enjoying it, but maybe he’d been so lost in his own pleasure and had been projecting.
“I-is it okay if I stay here tonight?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. Your cheeks burn hotter with shame. You refuse to meet his eyes, afraid of what you'll find in them.
Shanks frowns, confused. “Of course. I thought I’d made it clear earlier that I want you to stay with me. Not just for tonight, either. I guess we should talk about that.” He chuckles softly. “My crew is leaving tomorrow, and I want you to come with me.”
Your head snaps up in surprise. You study his face, looking for any sign that he's kidding. But his expresion is uncharacteristically serious as he waits for your response.
“You… you want me to come with you?”
He nods as if that were obvious.
“Really? You’re not kidding?” You eye him warily, fighting back the hope bubbling in your chest.
“Of course not! I think you should join my crew, y/n. We’ll have a lot of fun, you’ll see. You have a lot of spirit, which is perfect for a pirate! Plus, I need someone to keep my ego in check, and you seem up for the job,” He nudges you playfully at that last part.
You laugh, despite yourself. Could this really be happening?
“You don’t have to decide right now,” He adds uncertainly, unsure how to interpret your silence. “You can sleep on it and decide in the morning if you need more time.”
“I want to go with you.” The words are out before you can stop them. You slap a hand over your mouth, as if that could take the words back.
 “Perfect!” He laughs, delighted. He leans in and kisses you, wrapping you up in a tight hug. His excitement is contagious, and you find yourself laughing too.
You blush as Shanks cleans you up, the action foreign to you. It feels nice though, to have someone take care of you even after the sex is over. It makes you feel cherished. That was a feeling that you could get used to.
After tossing the rag, Shanks curls in behind you and wraps his strong arm around you, pulling your body towards him so that your back is pressed firmly against his chest. He buries his nose in your hair with a muttered comment about how nice you smell, before he immediately passes out.
You stay awake for a little bit longer, thoughts racing as your body buzzes with excitement. Finally, after all of this time, you're going to realize your dreams of becoming a pirate and living a life of adventure. And you could already tell that every day with Shanks would be an adventure. You drift off to sleep with a smile on your face, feeling better than you had in a while.
Also, thank you to everyone who's sent requests in so far for my 100 followers event (here) I'm having so much fun working on them, you guys are so creative. I'll still be posting ~2 regular posts a week, and I'll be posting your requests as I finish them :))
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dahfloofysmol · 13 days
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HELLO. This is the official post for YouTube kids’ surprise party on the 27th of March. Any and all gimmick blogs welcomed!
Some roles we need are:
-DJ [real-pollo-campero]
-great DJ (as per requested 🤨) [spotify-kids-real]
-video jockey [buildabearfr]
-Someone to make the cake [forever21-official]
-Puncher server [big-mayo-official]
-Decorator [barns-and-noble-official]
-Party crasher(s) [officialtinder and youtubefr and actually-kroger]
-Corner Person [Pinterest, yahooo-official, reallytimhortons]
-Person who’s dealing with a crazy sugar high [firewaysubs and zotap]
-Emotional support [walmart and def-bjs-guys]
-Mom [Krista the art program and Canadian tire] AND dad friend
-Birthday person IS taken (obviously lol)
-Someone to bring snacks [incognito-mode-official]
-Ring Leader (person in charge of the games) [totally-official-yahoo]
-person who performs a special but confusing (and overly translated) version of happy birthday [google translate ]
-piñata [firehouse-subs-fr]
-setting off fireworks [google-news-official]
-here for the food and bringing tWO DOGS!!! OMG DOGS!!!!! [swearification-and-cursing]
-person currently trying tO EAT THE CAKE!! STOP THAT!!! [shakespeare-official-account]
- stopping the Cake Eater [wow-google-maps]
- putting spiders (?????) under the cake [true-blue-straya]
- the person that is every bisexuals awakening [it’s-target-official]
-pops in for the last 5 minutes with a card + a store bought cake [the-real-google]
- gay wine uncle [the-McDonald’s]
- creepy uncle (???) [rick-e-chedder-official]
-single rich aunt who disappears every night at specifically 8:00 pm [totally-not-kraft-mac-and-cheese]
-shapeshifts between wine aunt and vodka uncle, and the comic relief [the-one-and-only-duckduckgo]
- bringing lights so we aren’t all dancing in the dark [real-vivaldi-browser]
- summoning Satan under the table with a bottle of whiskey and pancakes (??????????) [definitely-canada]
-person asking weirdly specific and absurd questions [actual-aspec-military]
-the COOLEST cousin [support-speaks]
-cousin who hangs out in the corner and looks like they know something you dont [the-official-publix]
-person who hits on everyone at the party even though they’re already dating 2 ppl [fr-winn-dixie]
-contributes Ziploc® bags [totally-scjohnson]
-bringing burritos [the-real-chipotle]
-YouTube's kids southern aunt who blesses everyone's hearts bc they think theyre dumb most of the time [i-bless-your-heart]
-middle school cousin who argues with anyone and everyone to look cool [wallyworld-the-unofficial]
-gives oil (?????????????) and branded pens as party favors [truly-jcjenson]
-the strange neighbor kid who talks to no one but sings the loudest and brings a weird yet tasteful gift [the-real-aperture-science]
-bringing Walmart sugar cookies [not-really-discord]
-guy bringing the Knives [wheatley-labs-official]
-joining in on the games [totally-official-yahoo]
-the disco ball [jollibee-real]
-that one uncle with lore of untold numbers of deaths involved, and that includes guns [partycityistotallyofficailguy]
And any other role I haven’t stated!! I’ll accept pretty much anything
In case what you pick is already chosen, tag your second option ;p
—>The biggest part of the surprise party is wishing YouTube kids a happy birthday, but in the most creative way possible. In the “ask me” works, but literally anywhere; on your blog or on a post from anywhere (that you know they’d be okay with a little shenanigans) works wonderfully.
->Also, saying happy birthday is awesome, but spicing it up would be more fun!!! Day Of Birth, One of Awakening, Oh Child of the 27th, and any other batshit way to say “happy birthday” would both be awesome and absolutely hilarious.
Again, invite any and all gimmick blogs, and feel free to let me know what you’d want to do! We attack on the 27th >:DD
ADDITIONAL NOTE: sometimes there will be more than one person in each role! I do actively encourage for people to come up with silly and niche roles if you think of one ;D
ON THE 24th I WILL NO LONGER TAKE ROLLS!!!! Spread the word please!
@barnes-and-noble-official @basically-bumble @totallyofficialtacobell @totally-official-yahoo @totally-bing @officialtinder @officially-google-translate @officially-ikea @official-fedex @incognito-mode-official @forever21-offical @officialkfc @kfc-official @k-f-c-official @life360-i-swear @xgames-blog @cars-official @big-mayo-official @bingle-official @the-real-google @the-real-firefox @nasa @wow-google-maps @wallyworld-the-unofficial @walmart-the-official @realgoogleslides @realgoogledocs @yahooo-official @unfortunate-wattpad @firewaysubs @firefox-official @pinterest-real @spotify-kids-real @duothelingo @definitely-wikipedia @firehouse-subs-fr @google-2point0 @gimmick-thief
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Note
I reread your tanjiro reader post and always wondered what would happen if it’s a Muichiro reader?
How would the Vise and dorm leader react if reader was known as a Young prodigy in Swordsmanship and is very rich?
Since Reader is has amnesia, she would always forget that she’s in another world but was always reminded by her loyal crow
Both the Dorm leaders and Vice Dorm leaders are a bit much
🖤🖤🖤
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Muichiro Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland
You’re doe-eyed, airheaded, painfully blunt, and a true sword prodigy. Always forgetting and wistfully floating by in life only really reacting to your memory’s deepest secrets. The only thing that keeps you grounded is the loyal crow that gives your missions. While you are as determined as you could be to return to your world the boys of Twisted Wonderland feel the exact opposite. You don’t have much of a will which makes it easier to instill their own: 
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Trey Clover
“(Y/n)?!”
“...”
“(Y/n)?!”
“Hmm?”
“How long have you been like that?! All the blood’s going to rush to your head!”
His obsession festers from his worry
Taking that big brother role and watching out for your wandering self
But then he realizes its more when you in a rare moment of clarity speak your truth
Lighting the fire inside him 
And he can’t help but want to protect you
Even when he watches you slice at an entirely insane speeds 
He still feels the need to safeguard you
Even if it means keeping you in the dark about everything
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Rook Hunt
“Mon amour brumeux! Please show me the prowess of your sword!”
“...”
“Oui, your beauty is shining even when you dream!”
You’re so lovely for him 
Not reacting to his open photography 
You don’t even protest when he swabs the insides of your cheeks
He’s brought to shivers at the thought of your immense power with a docile personality
In fact he’s never seen someone so skillfully dodge and reflect arrows without being angry
You’re just so perfect for him 
He’s determined to have you 
And he wonders will you fight when he takes you or just let him
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Ruggie Bucci
“You’re so gullible! You’ve got to fight me if I take your food! Come on showing me your game face!” 
“You want me…to fight you?”
Shink
“Whoa whoa (Y/n) hold on!” 
He thinks your airy attitude is a breath of fresh air
But he realizes how easy it is to string you along
And he feels no one is better to do that then him 
Well guess he’s getting a lot more practice with ‘laugh with me’
Specifically in accidental injuries
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Lilia Vanrouge
“Whoa (Y/n) you’re so skilled! Would you be willing to maybe spar with me?”
“No, I’m looking at the clouds.”
“Awww come on baby! Pleeeeaaasseee?”
He loves pestering you 
Because you don’t really react so it ends up bothering him instead
Ultimately he finds himself obsessed with knowing your inner workings
And when you say something insightful he feels his heart speed up and his cheeks flush with a feeling he hasn’t felt in ages
Won’t you give this dying fae his final wish and stay with him forever
Or maybe he’ll come with you–the greatest mystery he’s ever come across
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Jamil Viper
“I sometimes think I could hypnotize you to do what I want…but you’re so flighty I doubt it would even work.”
“...Your hair looks like Kabumaru…”
“What?”
He thinks you’re the cutest 
Even when you expertly wield a sword
He wonders how knowledgeable you can be if he eliminated your chances to go home
If you stayed they’d be the perfect duo 
He’ll be your brains if your his muscle
Heck you can even leave the killing to him
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Jade Leech
“Ah, I see you’re busy staring at the Monstro Lounge’s tank.”
“...”
“You seem to like fish.”
“...No, no I don't think I do.”
“Hmmm, how would you like to be one?”
Floyd’s nickname of JellyFish is accurate to him 
Especially when you show off your sword skills 
An almost mindless creature that has a sting
But he thinks you’re allure is like a mushroom
Possibly deadly but wonderfully gorgeous
Perfect for a terrarium tank of your own
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ellabehavior · 10 months
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Matilda ~ JJ Maybank ✯
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Summary: You’ve grown up not being able to show much affection because of your family, but JJ knows just how to heal your wounds.
Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Mention of abuse, a lil suggestive content
A/N: hope y’all enjoy! request r open!
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You've always been rather cautious about accepting hugs from people. Even as a young child, you might have hesitantly accepted a hug or just stood there not really knowing what to do. Likewise, expressing your love has always been difficult for you because it’s not something you would do very often inside your house hold.
Your parents never really said the words ‘I love you’. Sure, they’d sometimes give words of affirmation once in every blue moon, or they might hug you on special occasions but you never really got the feeling of true family love.
As a kid you would always watch family movies, or look at your friends parents and wonder ‘why are they so nice?’ or ‘how come they rarely argue?’
That is when you started realizing this behavior is not normal.
But once you and JJ started dating, things started to change; your displays of affection began to get stronger and more obvious.
He showed you how to love.
Your dreams, your kisses, your hearts, and your love for each other were all shared by the two of you.
You and JJ both know every last detail about one another. You were able to wipe away every tear that came from JJ's memories with kisses since you were aware of JJ's father and his early years. This may be why you two matched so well.
However, your family? You preferred not to bring it up. Naturally, your partner was aware of the awful ways in which your parents treated you, but you would never go into detail because doing so would trigger unpleasant memories.
That is until one sleepless night you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Jay” you whispered through your tears trying to wake him up out of his sleep.
“Baby?” He rubbed his eyes and seen the tears pouring down your face “Baby no, come here.” He said with a pout and pulled you in.
“JJ I had a dream about my parents and it brought back everything, and my mom was telling me about how I didn’t deserve you and-”
JJ then placed a soft kiss on your lips to calm you down.
“Calm down baby, i’m right here for you. I’ll be here all night. It was just a dream, i’m forever yours I promise.” He says in a soothing voice while rubbing your back hoping it’ll calm you even a little bit.
Since your mother called you on the phone two days earlier, he was aware that something was wrong. You’ve have been so silent since that phone call, he was skeptical about what was said, but he decided to not push it unless you were ready to tell him.
After a few minutes of crying and back rubs you’ve finally chilled out enough to tell him what was going on.
“When my mother called me two days ago, I thought it would be good and we could just catch up. I thought she'd be happy of me for where I've gone in life, but all she did was yell and tell me how she wishes I were different. I've been having dreams ever since, and I can't handle it any more.” At the end of your sentence, your voice begins to tremble, indicating another sob.
JJ immediately notices this and pulls you in tighter.
“Baby, please don’t ever believe those words. I fell in love with you for who you are, your the most beautiful girl I have ever met. Everything about you is perfect to me, the way you giggle, the way you snore, and even when you upset me I can’t find a single flaw about you.” He says with his hands on both sides of your cheeks.
“I don’t deserve to be loved by someone like you.” you whisper
“Don’t even say that.” JJ says in a serious tone with tears starting to form in his eyes. “I wouldn’t even be able to think without you, much less live without you.”
The look in his eyes was very serious. You were his oxygen, he never wanted to hear something like that from you. Without you, he wouldn't be able to breathe.
JJ finally broke the built up tension and pressed your lips together. Minutes upon minutes of the need to be closer to eachother.
You depended the kiss and pushed JJ back so you were on top of him.
“Jay” you said staring into his eyes while unbuttoning his pants.
He softly pushed you off and buttoned his pants back up. “Not tonight baby, I want to show you my love in a different way.” he breathed out
“Okay.” you said while he laid down and pushed you against him.
That night all you guys did was share little pecks, talk about stupid things, and hold onto eachother tight.
This was it, this is what you’ve been searching for since you were 7. This is what your parents swore would never happen to you, This is true unconditional love.
“I love you J”
“I love you more.”
-
‘I can't be who you
want me to be if who that is isn't who I am.
To love me is to accept me.’
- Baggage Reclaim
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word-wytch · 1 year
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Don't Stand So Close To Me
Eddie x Teacher!Reader
Chapter 1/? 3.5k Series Masterlist
✏︎ Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.
While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him.
Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.
✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, perv!eddie, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)
A/N: I've poured my heart and soul into this one.
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Fourth period English was the only class that Eddie Munson could seem to pay attention in, though not exactly to the lessons. 
He propped his cheek against his knuckles as he watched you from the back of the classroom.
“See, everything is filtered through Holden’s limited first person narration, so we get really pure insight into how he sees the world, but we also have to take it with a grain of salt,” you said, delicate heels clicking against the tile floor as you paced back and forth. “We see what he pays attention to, and therefore what we ought to pay attention to as readers.”
Eddie’s eyes traced the curve of your waist, over the back of your tweed pencil skirt as you turned to place the chalk back on the ledge at the bottom of the board. It was hugging you in all the right places, as it did every time you wore it. His favorite.
“Alright let’s break out the quotes and notes assignment from chapter ten. Who would like to share their thoughts on a quote with the class?” 
Your eyes scanned the room. Students shifted in their chairs in an awkward silence before a hand shot up in the front row. 
“Nancy,” you smiled and gestured to her, “Take the floor.” 
“Ok so one of the quotes I picked out was where he says ‘I damn near gave my kid sister Phoebe a buzz, though. I certainly felt like talking to her on the phone. Someone with sense and all.’ I think it’s really interesting that he says that she has sense,” said Nancy.
Eddie barely registered a word of what Nancy said. He was too transfixed on your shirt, the way the fabric parted at the buttons when you leaned in just the right way. Sometimes if he was lucky he could catch a flash of skin, a glimpse of delicate lace from your bra. It almost made him wish he would have picked a seat closer to the front of the class. 
Nancy continued. “Right now he’s surrounded by very mature things at the hotel that he’s trying to make sense of and has really negative opinions about. He keeps thinking of his little sister though, and that’s always positive, so that’s in contrast to the rest of what’s going on.”
“Thank you, Nancy, that’s exactly right. A juxtaposition, very perceptive of you.”
Eddie shifted in his seat, feeling his pants start to tighten. 
“Does anyone else have a quote they’d like to share their thoughts on with the class?”
Chairs creaked, a few legs scooted loudly against the floor in the restless silence. A sniffle.
“Come on, Nancy can’t carry this entire class.” You tapped your fingers on the desk behind you. “Well, I know she could but I’m not going to let her,” you said, giving her a little wink.
Still silence. 
“Alright, fine.” You glanced around at the rows of averted eyes until yours settled on the young man in the leather jacket seated at the very back far right corner of the classroom. “Eddie,” you said with a gentle smile. 
His dark eyes shot up, face flushing. 
“Do you have any thoughts on what you read in chapter ten last night?”
Eddie licked his lips, casting his eyes downward in thought. “I uh,” his mouth was like cotton, “No I don’t really think I… understood the chapter,” he said, giving a sheepish grin. The soft pout of disappointment on your pretty lips made his stomach drop.
“I don’t think he can even read the chapter,” muttered the blonde athlete in the seat next to him.  
“Jason,” you began, but Eddie didn’t miss a beat.
“I don’t think you can even read your girlfriend,” he said, to which the class awakened audibly.
Jason shot daggers at Eddie. “Why don’t you quit talking to her and find a girlfriend closer to your  age, huh? There’s plenty at the senior home across the street.”
The class erupted in laughter.
“Stop it, both of you!” you shouted over the din. “The next person to make another sound has detention,” you said sternly. The class grew quiet again, allowing space for your voice to soften. “Eddie, please see me after class.”
“Oooh,” mocked Jason as he sat back and laughed.
“Jason, detention.”
“What? No!”
“I told you, the next person to speak has detention. I don’t make idle threats.”
Eddie’s lips curled into a satisfied grin as he watched you command the room.
“Please,” Jason begged,  “It’s the last practice before the game tomorrow.”
“No. You can use your time in detention to work on practicing some self control.”
Jason huffed and shot Eddie another glare but Eddie’s eyes were fixed on his desk, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his face contorted. It took all of his strength to bite back a laugh.
You sighed and leaned back on your desk at the front of the classroom. “Now then,” you started, composing yourself, “I’ll be very curious to read all of your assigned journal entries from this chapter, since clearly so many of you have something to say.”
Chairs shifted. A cough.
“Alright, pass them forward,” you said, gesturing to the class. 
The room was filled with the sound of sheets being torn from notebooks, binders opening, paper shuffling. The students passed the pages forward up the four rows and you walked by to collect them.
“Why don’t we spend the last fifteen minutes of class silently reading the book, hm? Then maybe tomorrow we might have something to talk about.”
You returned to sit at your desk with the papers as the students opened up their books. 
Eddie dug his beat up copy of The Catcher in the Rye out of the mess of his backpack. The red, soft cover spine was beginning to peel away from abuse.
He opened it up to a random page and began to gloss over the words but none of them registered. His mind was too full of other images — the arch of your back, the way you toyed at your lips with your finger in thought, of what you would look like bent over that desk of yours with him on top of you.
Fifteen minutes passed like this. The bell rang. 
Eddie waited in his seat as the other students filed out of the classroom, turning to bury the book in his backpack in an effort to avoid Jason, but it didn’t matter.
“Watch it, freak. I mean it, I’ve got my eyes on you,” said Jason, to which Eddie simply raised his eyebrows in mock fear.
After the last student left, Eddie slowly approached you, dragging his feet a little as he walked. 
You swiped the last of the chalk from the board with the eraser, leaving a small cloud of dust as you turned to face him. 
“Sorry for the outburst today.” The chain on his wrist rattled as he brought a hand to his chest, “I meant no disrespect,” he said earnestly. “Well, I did to Jason, but never to you.”
You returned a soft smile, “Thanks, I appreciate the apology even though I can see that you weren’t exactly the instigator.” 
“Yeah, well, Jason, like any basic primate, seems to think that any male who comes within three feet of his mate is a threat.”
A snort escaped you. Basic primate.  
Eddie’s eyes crinkled, his smile contagious. “Besides, Chrissy’s the one who came over to talk to me anyway.”  
You sighed and shook your head, not really knowing what to say.
“Sorry, I know, I’ll stop.”
You gave him a gracious look and took a deep breath to compose yourself, “Eddie,” you started.
His mouth curved ever so slightly as he relished in the way his name rolled off your tongue.
“We’ve been in class for about a month now,” you began, “You haven’t turned in an assignment in the last two weeks.”
Eddie scratched the back of his head, “Yeah, uh, sorry about that.”
“Now I might be new to teaching here, but I know this isn’t your first time in this class, nor your second. Clearly there must be some part of you that wants to graduate, or else you would have just dropped out two years ago, right?” you asked, searching his eyes. “You don’t strike me as the sort of person who does anything they don’t want to do.”
Eddie smirked, “It’s only been a month and you already know me so well, miss.”
There was something about the way that he said it that brought a heat to your cheeks. You tucked your hair behind your ear in an attempt to hide it. “Well, what do you think we can do about this little conundrum then? I don’t want to see you fail.” 
“I dunno, maybe I just… need a little help?” he said sheepishly.  
You hummed, bringing a curved finger to your lips in thought. “I want to help you, but you have to be willing to put in some effort.”
“I know, I’ve been totally slacking. That’s on me. I can change that,” he said assuredly, “I promise.”
You smiled softly at his earnestness. “If you’re willing to put in the effort, I would be open to tutoring you. I have some time after school today if you want to stop by my classroom, we can come up with a game plan then.”
Eddie’s dark eyes widened at the suggestion, “I’d appreciate that very much, miss.”
You gave a nod, “Sure thing. I’ll see you after school then. I’ll be here.”
 “See ya later,” he said, grabbing his well worn backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. “Oh, and,” he turned back toward you, closing the distance between you even further. His eyes lingered over your lips for a moment before meeting your gaze again, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” you half whispered.
You turned toward your desk to gather the papers in as neat a pile as you could manage with the frayed edges left by spiral notebooks and placed them in your fourth period grading folder. The bell rang out again through the halls signaling lunch period. You grabbed your purse from under your desk and closed the classroom door behind you. 
Walking through the halls of Hawkins High was like a strange recurring dream. Same drop ceiling, same tile floor. Same weird smell when you walked past the science room. The same cliques too — the jocks, the burnouts, the party animals. This time with less bell bottoms and fringe, more leg warmers and hairspray. Surprisingly little had changed. 
You opened the door to the teacher’s lounge adjacent to the cafeteria. The wood paneled walls and old carpet were much less familiar to you than the hallways and classrooms you had spent countless hours in. It was strange to be on this side of things now.
“How’s your day going so far, sweetie?” chimed Ms. Click, putting the glass coffee pot back on the warmer. 
“Oh, you know, just another day of pulling teeth from my class. I swear Nancy Wheeler was the only one who read the chapter last night.”
A swoon swept across the room. “Oh Nancy, she really is such a bright star isn’t she?” Ms. Click remarked, her voice sweet like table sugar.  “You know she kind of reminds me of you when you were her age, doesn’t she, Doris?” 
Doris O’Donnell hummed and pursed her lips with a little nod.
“Well, smarts-wise anyway. Boy I try not to pick favorites but you certainly were a pleasure to have in class. If I’m remembering right you were valedictorian, weren’t you?” 
You offered a weak smile, “Yep, class of ’74.”
“’74? Goodness it hasn’t been that long has it? Gosh we sure are getting old aren’t we?” she called over to Ms. O’Donnell, the beads on her glasses chain rattling as she laughed, “Oh goodness I don’t mean you sweetie,” she said, putting her hand on yours reassuringly, “Heck if I didn’t know you I would have mistaken you for a student!”
“Thank you Ms. — I mean Peggy.” You grabbed a mug from the stack and turned it over in your hands. #1 Teacher. The matte apple and text printed on the front of it was fading with age. You filled it with coffee and and grabbed a small open milk carton sitting nearby, watching the cream swirl in the mug before taking a seat at one of the three round tables with plastic veneer to look like wood. 
“Gosh, you know I don’t mean to pry, but with such a pretty face to match the good head on your shoulders I would have thought you’d have a different last name by now.”
You stared into your coffee, feeling the ghost of the ring on your finger. “Ah, yeah. Almost, but… it didn’t work out.” 
“Oh — I’m sorry sweetie, I didn’t realize.”
“It’s um — it’s fine.”
“You know there’s plenty of lovely young bachelors at St. Michael’s, we’re having a potluck tonight if you want to come.” 
It took all of your strength to hide a visible grimace. Sounds delightful. “No thanks, I can’t. I’ve offered to tutor a student after school today.”
“Who might that be?” asked Ms. Click.
“Eddie Munson.” 
The whole room groaned. 
Ms. O’Donnell cackled from her corner, her toad-like face contorting. “Good luck. I’ve been stuck with him for the last three years. Honestly I don’t know why he’s still in school. He’s too old to be here anymore if you ask me.”
Your eyes shot up from your coffee. “Well, he must have some desire to be here or otherwise he wouldn’t be. Isn’t it our duty as teachers to help students achieve milestones?” 
Ms. O’Donnell huffed, “Oh yeah, he needs help alright. None that I can give him though.” 
“I can imagine that help would be a difficult thing to offer while putting him down.”
She snorted, “Sure sweetie. Say some magic words of encouragement, that’ll do the trick. Hey, pick me up a little fairy dust too while you’re at it.” 
Laughter rang out across the teachers lounge.
Your lips formed a hard line as you popped open the tupperware container which held your salad.  
“Keep us posted, will you? We’re all dying to know how it goes.”
______
You could hear the lockers slamming shut as the din in the hallway began to die down, students filtering out with the last bell of the day. You flipped through the pile of notebook papers on your desk, making small notes on each one with a green pen before setting them onto the neat pile in front of you. You never liked to use red, too harsh. 
There was a strange feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t seem to shake. You wondered if perhaps the chicken on your salad had sat in the fridge for a few days too many. 
Your eyes shot up from your papers as you heard footsteps at the door. “Hey, Eddie.”
Eddie flashed you a smile and a little wave as he dragged a chair from the far corner of the room to the empty spot across from you and plunked himself down in it.
“How are you?” you asked.
“Oh, you know, just another day in suburban paradise.”
You chuckled dryly, “Yeah, you could say that again.”
Eddie fiddled with his rings, twisting them as he looked at you with those big dark eyes.
“So first off, let’s talk about the book we’re reading in class. Have you read any of it?”
“I did read the first few chapters, kind of lost interest though, sorry,” he admitted.
You nodded curtly. “The Catcher in the Rye seems to be a fairly polarizing book from my experience. Some students love it, others hate it. I myself am in the former camp, of course. I tend to find that most of the people who don’t like it just don’t quite understand it.”
Eddie gave a short puff of air through his nose. “I could say the same thing about most of the shit I’m interested in.”  
You smiled sympathetically. “Is reading not really your thing?”
“Actually, contrary to the opinion of a certain primate, I do like to read.��
You raised your eyebrows, “Really? Like what?”
“Fantasy mostly, The Lord of the Rings, really anything Tolkien writes. I’ve read those books a few times through actually,” he said, “Probably kind of stupid to read the same thing over and over when you could be reading other things, but — ”
“No, that’s not stupid at all! I’ve read them more than once too, actually.” Your eyes were sparkling. “They’re some of my favorites.”
Eddie sat back in his chair, a smile playing on his lips. “You? A geek? Never would have guessed.”
You smirked at him. You couldn’t quite tell if he was being sarcastic or serious. “Actually incorporating world building with storytelling the way that Tolkien does is something I’ve always tried to emulate in my own writing.”
“Your own writing?” Eddie shifted in his chair, leaning in.
“Oh, yeah,” you said, glancing downward, wishing you could suck the words back into your mouth.  
“You write books?”
“I… don’t know if you could quite call them books if they aren’t published, or totally finished but — I do like to write stories.”
Eddie’s eyes were enormous. “Can I read them? Oh please let me read them.”
The heat was back in your cheeks again. “Oh jeez, I don’t know, it’s been ages since I’ve even looked at them myself.”
Eddie leaned in even more, his elbows on the desk. “Come on,” his smile was so disarming, “What,  you think I’m gonna like, judge you or something?”
You looked down at the papers you were grading and clicked the pen in your hand. “I don’t know, writing is such an oddly… personal thing.” 
“Please? You know I’m like the last person to be passing judgement on something like that, right?”
You sighed. His eyes were big, and wet, and pleading and you cursed yourself for being stirred by them. “Ok, how about this, if you can get your grades up, get at least a B in one of your classes, I’ll let you read one of my stories.”
Eddie sat back in his chair, grinning from ear to ear. “Challenge accepted.”
You tucked your hair behind your ear as you met his smile, “Whatever motivates you,” you said trying not to think too hard about the implications of the deal you just made. “You know, what I really want to talk about is the creative writing assignment you turned in the first week of class.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That bad, huh?”  
“No! Actually not bad at all. Actually quite good. You’re very creative, Eddie.”
“Oh is that what they’re calling it these days?” he deflected.
“No, I’m serious. You’ve written stories before, haven’t you?”
“Well, I am the dungeon master for my DnD club.”
You squinted your eyes curiously at him.
“Oh! So basically, I come up with the plot of the story that they players are going to play. I create the world essentially, lead them through the story. Well, to some extent. The monsters are all from a guidebook but the plot is all me.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Creativity and leadership.”
Eddie chuckled and scratched the back of his head to distract from the heat creeping across his cheeks. “Yeah, well, doesn’t change the fact that I’m 20 years old and still in high school.”
“About that,” you started, “Why do you want to graduate? Maybe if you can identify the reason for reaching your goal, then you can find the motivation to work toward it. Besides wanting to read my stories anyway, like a personal reason.”
Eddie sat back in his chair for a moment, biting his lip in thought. “Uhh, maybe to prove all the assholes in this god forsaken purgatory wrong?”
You laughed, probably a bit too hard. “I think that’s an excellent reason.”
Eddie beamed. “See, I knew I liked you.”
You coyly returned his smile and fidgeted with the pen in your hand again. “Let’s figure out a day or two when we can meet weekly. Got any after school conflicts?”
“My band plays at the Hideout Tuesday nights, Fridays I’ve got Hellfire Club.”
“How about Mondays and Wednesdays then? Does that work for you?”
“Sure does.”
“Great, and I can help you with other classes too, to the best of my ability anyway. Show you how best to study, how to approach papers and essays — that sort of stuff.”
“Looking forward to it,” he said softly.
 The feeling in your stomach was back again. “Me too.”
______
Thank you so much for reading, tons more to come! Comments and reblogs keep me going! 🙏
Tag list: @ooo-protean-ooo @toxicjayhoo @mermaidsandcats29 @jadequeen88 @msgexymunson @wroteclassicaly @inknopewetrust @storiesbyrhi @kissmyacdc @cherry-vamps @willgrahamspsycheval
There are some of you are on this list who I talked to about this months ago! Sorry it took me a while to get this up but I’ve spent the last month outlining this monstrosity. That’s mostly out of the way now so updates should be pretty regular, like once a week. 💕
2K notes · View notes
Note
Hi how are you? I have a request please:
A Cullen (maybe Edward or Alice??) walks in on Jasper and his mate (f!reader ) in the middle of a smutty situation. How does that go? I think that situation would be so funny! Thanks!
Awkward // Jasper x Reader.
I just loved the idea of this...and I decided to torture both Alice AND Edward with this, just for fun! Thank you, dear anon! For anyone wondering about the “soft” comment in regards to Jasper, I’m changing SM’s lore once again. Vampires are always cold but not hard as stone unless angry, frightened, or fighting. Otherwise, their skin is smooth and soft...Jasper had never experienced that himself before meeting Y/N, finally softening for the first time in forever.
Emmett has a million jokes about it but they’ve heard ‘em all. By the way, Ed was listening to Three Days Grace.
Pairing: Jasper x Reader.
Waring: slightly smutty, more of a lime rating...I cut off before I got to the good stuff, let me know if you want more!
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They should have seen it coming.
Of all people, a psychic and a telepath certainly should have foreseen such a terrible event. But in their defenses, reading the future wasn’t as easy as it seemed and even psychics can be surprised on occasion. And Edward had been trying to drown out Emmett’s annoyances, half-listening to something on his CD player (something loud with a heavy bass, good for forcing an annoying brother out of one’s mind) and half-listening to Alice’s chattering about the upcoming “Starlight Ball.”
“Why on earth does this town have so many balls and dances?” Edward snarked. “I swear to god, half of the formal gowns and sequins being made across the world end up here.”
“Oh, hush, Ed, it’s called having fun! Try it sometime.”
“Tried it once, didn’t like it.”
With a roll of her bright amber eyes and an annoyed hiss, Alice closed her sketchbook with a snap and stood up.
“Whatever,” she sighed. “I want to show Y/N some of these sketches for her dress, she’ll love them. Even Jasper is having fun!”
Somewhere above the throbbing bass, Edward heard the sound of muffled laughter, a sweet Southern accent murmuring something flirtatious. It was true, wasn’t it? Since meeting you, a new side of Jasper had emerged, surprising everyone, even Jasper himself. He was smiling again, laughing and acting like a fool in love...and he was even insisting on taking you to the ball, asking Alice to design a dress for you (which she’d actually started designing a year before they’d even moved to Midnight Falls, having awaited you for years). Edward couldn’t deny his brother’s adoration over you, it was a rather lovely sight to see. But the mention of his name reminded him that Jas still had a book he’d borrowed and Edward needed it back, joining Alice as she raced to their brother’s bedroom. And so he wasn’t listening, music blasting, and she wasn’t looking, eyes on her sketches as she chattered about the blue dress over the black and this over that and…
And you and Jasper were far too lost in one another to notice anything at all.
A little teasing had turned into a little kissing and, without realizing it, you’d fallen back onto his bed, sighing breathlessly as Jasper’s cool hands slipped beneath your tee-shirt, a line of goosebumps following the ghost of his touch.
Gentle.
He was always so gentle with you, so scared of hurting you. But that didn’t keep the passion from spilling forth, heart thrilling within your chest as his winter-fire lips found your neck. A hand tangled in his golden hair, tugging softly as the other ran down his bare back. Neil scratched at soft skin, he almost wished you might mark him if you could, he’d wear it with pride. Kissing along your neck, Jasper listened to the fluttering of your heart, oh, how sweet it was!
How sweet you tasted!
Through half-lidded eyes, you watched as he leaned over you, his name falling from your lips as he nearly kissed you.
“Jas...”
“Jasper, I need to talk to–oh. Oh my god.”
Snapping towards the suddenly opened door (damn, he should have locked it!), it suddenly occurred to Jasper just what kind of position you’d been caught in, his shirt discarded and his jeans half undone...your clothes mussed and hair wild, his hand groping beneath your shirt. And for a moment, all four of you remained shocked in silence, Alice’s mouth agape and Edward horrified. But Jasper regained his senses and moved so quickly you never saw him, hissing furiously as he slammed the door shut with a slam that shook the house.
And locked it.
And moved the dresser in front of it for good measure.
If he listened, he could hear Alice’s scream of “ew, ew, ew” as she ran down the stairs and Edward followed, the latter of the two running out of the house and refusing to return for a week. And Jasper? He was almost certain that his heart was beating again because it almost felt as though he were blushing, though he knew it could never be true. Leaning against the dresser, he hid his face in his hand, laughing from the embarrassment. A car engine took off with a roar and the back door slammed, the house so suddenly silent.
“Jas...”
Looking up, he could not help but smile at the sight of you, hair wild and eyes bright. He laughed again and returned the bed, kissing you softly.
“Sorry about that, darlin’,” he murmured. “Least we got a little privacy now...”
“Oh?”
“Guess the lot of them figured it out, they’ve all run off. We could do something else, if you want to. Watch a movie or something.”
“Hmmm,” you hummed, pretending to think. “I have a better idea!”
Pulling him into a deeper kiss, Jasper growled your name sweetly and fell back into you, forgetting about everything else. Nothing, nothing at all mattered in the world, not when he was with you. Not when you were kissing him and holding him tight, making the monster feel like a man again. Even better, Jasper considered as he kissed your neck.
He was your man.
And there was nothing else he’d rather be, having discovered the reason of his existence within your kiss.
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emmyblues · 1 month
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baby blues VI
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summary - the chargers won against the patriots, and traditions are traditions. justin takes the opportunity to introduce wyatt and y/n (outside of work) to his second family and spend some time with them
pairing - justin herbert x fem!reader
wordcount - 4k
A/N: so so so sorry for the wait -- lots of baby wy and justin fluff to make up for it
masterlist, previous chapter, next chapter
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“When are you seeing her again?”
Justin nervously laughed, scratching the back of his head as he listened to his brother speak over the phone. “I’m not sure. Tomorrow at work, but outside of that, maybe sometime next week?”
“Why not this week? You’ve talked about her non-stop for weeks now, might as well seize the moment,” his older brother Mitch’s muffled voice sounded through again, nearly chiding him. “Plus, I can’t listen to you talk about her all lovey-dovey another phone call if you’re not gonna make a fucking move!”
“We went on a date last week, I don't want to overwhelm her,” the quarterback sighed, a twitch in his leg that seemed to always be around when he thought of her – a subconscious want to run towards something. 
“Yeah, ‘cause that’s gonna happen,” Mitch laughed on the other end. “Dude, everything you’ve told me about her says that she’s just as into this as you are. Well, maybe not exactly as, you’re practically in love with her already.”
“Shut up,” Justin groaned, throwing his head back onto the back of his couch. 
“It’s true, isn’t it? I mean I think you mentioned her a few times before you even started dating. You’d always talk about ‘that cute PT’ and all but followed her around like a puppy when she wasn’t looking.”
“You make me sound like I stalked her you dick,” he sighed, running his hand anxiously through his overgrown hair once again – a nervous tick, and a necessary action to be able to see anything. “I just thought she was beautiful, nothing wrong with that.”
“The only wrong thing was that you didn’t ask her out before that time in the grocery store – you’re such a wuss when it comes to women,” Mitch teased his brother, enjoying the entire exchange far more than he should’ve – though he felt no guilt about it, like most older brothers would.
“She obviously wouldn’t have said yes so I made the right choice,” the quarterback justified. The terrifying thought that one different action or mistake made months ago could’ve stopped him from ever even knowing Y/N as more than just a friend, and from ever having met Wyatt at all, popped into his head. He pushed it back immediately, out of sight, out of mind. 
“By the way, congrats on becoming a dad,” Mitch laughed, making Justin’s eyes widen and his back to automatically straighten, forcing him to stand up. 
“What? Wh– where did you…?” he was all but speechless as he stammered, not even knowing what to ask. “I am not a dad.”
“That little kid of hers, Wyatt, is it? Mom sent me a couple of pictures of the two of you she saw on Facebook.” Justin’s face was beet red, he should’ve known this could happen – that it eventually would happen. “And he’s glued to you in every photo. I mean, when are you adopting him?”
“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, we’ve been on one date,” Justin reminded him, fully knowing that out of the two of them, he was the one getting ahead of himself. But he couldn’t let Mitchell have the satisfaction of being right. 
“Step-dad does have a nice ring to it, though.” 
“I’m hanging up on you.”
“Okay, okay, fine, I’ll cool it,” Justin’s brother conceded, chuckling as quietly as he could to not annoy Justin any further – he’d poked the bear enough to be happy with his daily effort. “Seriously, though, just ask her out again. Help her get a babysitter – whatever, just do it.”
“What if she says no?” Justin knew it was a dumb question, they’d both confirmed wanting to see each other again after their last date, but he couldn’t help but worry. People changed their minds all the time, he just wished Y/N wouldn’t be one of them.
“I swear to fucking god, Justin, get over yourself. You said it yourself; she wanted to go on another date.”
Noticing the time he had to wrap up his call with Mitch – much to his “chagrin”. 
“Look, I gotta go. I’ll ask her, alright? Just don’t go telling people I have a kid, alright? I don’t wanna send dad to an early grave.”
“Wait, before you go, congrats again on the win, even if it wasn’t the prettiest. Rain games always suck ass,” Mitch laughed.
Saying their respective goodbyes, Justin took a minute to just wallow in his overwhelming anxiety. He had sat down during the last minute, just mulling over his brother's words. It did help that Nova had made her way onto his lap, offering a grounding pressure. 
Justin was not good at relationships. He hadn’t actually been together with anybody since college, and even then it wasn’t long term – high school held his firsts and only real relationships. In his adult life, he’d dated around, had casual relationships and hookups, but no partners. He wanted none of the attention and distraction, and wanted to focus all of his energy on football.
So, as much as it pained him to admit, he wasn’t sure if he could be what Y/N needed. But he liked her, he really liked her. And he was anything but a quitter. 
The team had returned from New England that morning, and although the win wasn’t the most ideal, it was still a win, and subsequent traditions had to be followed. Despite it being pretty late in the year, Los Angeles was still comfortably warm, and the barbeque-esque brisket-party they usually had outside could still go on as usual. 
Justin stayed up late, woke up early, and went through all of his usual exhaustion-riddled steps to get the “perfect brisket” that his teammates had come to expect after every win. It had started as a teammates only meeting, just celebrating together, but with wives and children entering the picture throughout the few years Justin had been there, it had morphed into a celebration between the players and their close families. 
That extended to Justin, too, even if he usually had no one to bring along.
Back at the hotel in Massachusetts after their so-called win, Justin had called Y/N to invite her and Wyatt along. He hadn’t planned to, originally, but then realized – thanks to the harsh reminders of Keenan – that care had to be shown through effort, and he would eventually have to include both Wyatt and Y/N into the other parts of his life, no matter how scary it was. 
He’d forewarned the other players that were going to be there and that they’d better be on their best behavior. Had any other player been bringing a significant other or a romantic interest of some sort for the first time like Justin was, they’d absolutely be put through the wringer. But this was Justin’s first time even entertaining the idea of introducing the team to someone. There was no way they’d screw that up for him or themselves. 
Y/N had initially been apprehensive, worrying that being surrounded by so many large men that were drinking and celebrating would be too much for Wyatt – and without him she might not have been able to come since the daycare her son attended closed before 6 pm. But upon Justin assuring her that other players would be bringing their wives, girlfriends, kids or even friends in some cases, she was convinced. 
Bringing himself back to the present, Justin gently scooped Nova from his lap, setting her down onto the couch as he made his way outside to check on the brisket. He was glad he only had that one job, with the gathering being similar to a pot-luck. Everyone brought something, easing everyone’s burden and making sure there was something for everyone. 
Now the only thing he could do was wait.
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Music was already playing from some hidden speakers, laughter and voices heard from the garden, as Y/N rang the doorbell to Justin’s house, her hand tightly gripping Wyatt’s to make sure he wouldn’t try escaping for some reason. 
She was worried they wouldn’t be heard, but was proven wrong when the door swung open to reveal a sheepishly grinning Justin, strands of his long hair obscuring his vision. 
“Hey, you’re here,” he mumbled, bringing Y/N into a hug before dropping to Wyatt’s level, scooping him up to his hip as he greeted the toddler. “Hey little man, how’ve you been?”
“Good,” Wyatt shyly smiled, curling into Justin’s chest with a gummy smile. 
“Yeah?” Justin grinned, his attention fully on the kid. “You want a boop?” he asked, bringing his fist up in front of Wyatt, offering a fist-bump.
With an overdramatic extension of his arm, Wyatt bumped him back, laughing as Justin celebrated with him emphatically. During their conversation, they’d slowly migrated further into the foyer, the door finally closing behind them, so the two boys had all the room they wanted to play around, and for Justin to lightly swing Wyatt up in the air – at first, much to Y/N’s dismay.
“A boop?” Y/N butted in, a teasing grin on her face. “You call it a boop?”
It was clear to Justin there was no malicious intent to her ribbing, with the uncontainable smile spreading from the tops of the corners of her mouth to the creases by her eyes. 
“Yeah,” he rubbed his hand awkwardly down his neck, scrunching his nose. “He’s a kid, I don’t know…”
“Don’t worry, it’s cute.”
Wyatt cut the both of them off, squirming to get down from Justin’s arms as he extended his chubby arm and index finger to point at something in Justin’s house. “Cat! There’s a cat!”
“Yeah, that’s Nova. She’s really nice, but you can only pet her if she comes to you, is that okay?” Justin asked, gently placing him down on the ground and walking toward his cat with the toddler in tow. Nova sat wide eyed with her ears perked up, her head slightly tilted as she looked at the small human walking towards her. 
“Okay,” Wyatt nodded, taking unstable steps alongside Justin, reaching to grab his hand for support – which looked very funny given the height difference between a giant football player and a two year old child. Justin’s back was completely bent, accommodating Wyatt's demands and speaking in hushed voices with him as Y/N watched from a distance. 
Y/N had introduced Wyatt to different animals before, and she knew her son was incredibly gentle with animals, so she let Justin hold the reins completely. She trusted that Justin would listen to anything Justin said and that he wouldn't hurt Nova. 
Justin squatted down beside Wyatt in front of Nova as they watched the Bengal take tentative steps toward them, before rubbing her side against Wyatt’s leg, eliciting a loud giggle from the boy. 
“I think she likes you,” Justin grinned, scratching his cat behind her ears, making her purr loudly.
“Pretty cat,” Wyatt mumbled, apprehensively reaching out to stroke the streaked fur on the bengal’s back, barely touching the animal at all in fear of disturbing it. Sometimes, Y/N was worried Wyatt connected better with animals than with other people, but Justin seemed similar, and he turned out great, so why wouldn’t Wy?
“Yeah, she is, isn’t she?” Justin agreed, letting Nova scamper off back toward the window to survey what all of the guests were doing outside in the garden.
“Wanna go say hi to everyone, Wy?” Y/N asked, rubbing a hand softly up and down her son’s back. 
Lucky for Y/N, Wyatt was a smart boy, and he knew it wasn’t really a question. So instead, he opted for the most secure thing he could hold onto, and turned to Justin. “Uppies.”
It immediately brought Justin back to the first time they met, in that hectic grocery store one random evening. He wasn’t even supposed to be there that day. He only stopped impulsively to pick up things he didn’t really need. He couldn’t help the lingering thought in the back of his mind wondering what might’ve been had he not stopped there and picked Wyatt up the same way he was doing now, placing him comfortably on his hip.
“Are you ready now, buddy?” Justin asked again, bouncing him once on his forearm. 
“Yeah.” A gummy smile spread across his little mouth at the words, his fingers playing with the pacifier dangling from the collar of his shirt – it was a sunflower now, not the usual lion Justin was so used to seeing. 
 The doors were already wide open as they walked through, seeing the “party” in full swing already. People were eating, talking and laughing, playing around with their kids and some were even swimming in Justin’s pool. It had been unfathomably hot that week in California, so she couldn’t really blame any of them. 
Y/N felt a bit out of place standing next to Justin, clad in a long jean skirt that reached her ankles and a t-shirt, a few sizes too big but not so baggy that she’d look like she didn’t care. It was a fine line, trying to dress casually, in hot weather, whilst still trying to make a good impression with people she’d met before, but this time in a different context. They’d actually have to like her for her personality, this time, not just for the ways she helped them. 
And the families, too. She knew how important friends and family were to Justin, so much so that the terms were nearly interchangeable in his eyes. She needed to win over everyone there, and given that she’d already shown up late thanks to a cranky morning, the day wasn’t off to the greatest start. She just wanted them all to like her for her.
Stepping outside, all eyes were nearly immediately on Justin, seeing him carrying a child. “Everyone, this little guy here is Wyatt and this is his mom and our physical therapist, Y/N,” Justin introduced them, Y/N waving at the mention of her name.
Justin seemed so oddly comfortable speaking publicly now, in a completely different light than she’d seen him in interviews and portrayed online. He knew everyone, and could actually act like himself around them, allowing himself to actually use his pretty voice. 
Y/N was welcomed with various waves and hey’s, the players she knew better coming up to say hi to her personally. But she still felt awkward, underdressed and overdressed at the same time, like she didn’t know if she should try to make friends with them or keep her distance, so she didn’t seem like she was forcing herself on them. 
“Don’t overthink it, please,” Justin whispered to her as he bent down to put Wyatt down, the toddler immediately finding a place balancing between the two adults, doing acrobatics between their hands as if he was some olympic gymnast – which he might’ve been in his mind, even if it looked less than peewee like to the rest.
“I just want them to like me, s’all.”
“Most of them already do, just relax, eat and have fun, okay? Please don’t stress yourself out for something like this,” he pleaded, his fingers interlacing with hers for a minute before hearing his voice being called from one of his players – some issue with the grill, from what Y/N had gathered with her limited brisket-knowledge.
She was left to her own devices, busying her fingers with the frayed hem of her shirt as she led Wyatt further out into the garden, hoping to get him out onto the grass. They didn’t have a backyard of their own, living in an apartment building, but she oh so wished she could’ve given that white-picket-fence and parents-who-love-each-other thing to him, something she felt like he deserved. 
Wyatt loved being outside, looking for frogs and staring at the ants that scurry across the sidewalks outside their building. He hadn’t really ever been in a forest, only in grass parks and playgrounds, but he loved the parts of the great outdoors he’d experienced so far in his short life so much. 
Finally getting to the kelly green grass, Wyatt let go of his moms hand to toddle all around he place, trying with all of his might to run with his short and chubby legs that wouldn’t move at the speed he wanted them to. Justin watched from afar as Y/N and Keenan’s wife Ciandra spoke, the wide receiver’s daughter Ka’Oir shyly asking Wyatt to go look at some of the cool rocks she’d found somewhere by the bushes. Usually the boy needed more convincing, but by the mention of bushes he was sold.
Ciandra and Y/N followed the kids, giggling amongst themselves at the newfound connection between the two. 
“Sooo, it’s getting serious, huh, man?” Keenan asked Justin out of the blue – well, only for the quarterback, who had been staring mindlessly at Y/N for the last few minutes, completely disregarding the friends around him. 
“I– well, yeah, I guess. It’s not labeled or anything, but I really like her,” Justin smiled, trying to downplay every single feeling and reaction showing on his face. 
“Aren’t you gonna ask her, then? Before someone else grows the balls to do it?” Mike Williams, another of Justin’s wide receivers, piped in, trying to goad Justin into revealing any further information. Trying to get anything out of Justin had to be played like a game of operation – with a steady hand and deliberate movements. The slightest mishap and he could shut down. 
“Why does everyone keep asking me this? I keep telling everyone the same thing but no,” he sighed dramatically, his question completely rhetorical. “One date. We’ve been on one date. We’re not there yet.”
“But ya wanna be.” It wasn’t a question, but the teasing tone did force an elbow of Justin’s to Keenan’s ribs. “You caveman, chill out, Herb.”
“DADDY! Daddy, look!” Ka’Oir ran toward Keenan yelling, something in her tiny hands. The receiver immediately, and with ease, placed her on his hip, carefully opening her closed palms. 
The scream that left Keenan’s mouth was hardly “manly”, but it was so automatic he couldn’t control it. The reason for the high pitched squeak being a slimy little amphibian taking tentative steps on the now wet hands of Ka’Oir. Her dad immediately distanced his head, leaning back as much as he could without letting go of his daughter, but still getting as far away from the frog as he possibly could. 
“Why would you bring that here, baby?” he stressed, his eyes comically wide, nearly matching the frog’s. 
Not letting Ka’Oir answer, Wyatt suddenly ran up to Justin, his own hands clasped around something unseen, just like the little girl before him had. “Justin, Justin!” He kept whisper-yelling, trying to catch his attention without anyone else's following along – not that it worked, as Keenans reaction already had everyone’s eye half on the group, curious if anything else worth teasing him about later might occur. 
“What’s up, Wy?” Justin bent down to his level, knees bent as much as his long legs allowed. 
“Look, look, I found one, too!”
He opened his tiny little hands up to show a moss green frog, similar to Ka’Oir’s but smaller, and with some darkened spots on its back. Its soft belly moved with each breath, and seemed oddly content resting on the constantly twitching and moving hands of Wyatt. 
“Wow, he’s a pretty one. Does he have a name?” Justin asked, genuinely marveling at the tiny creature – the frog not the child – as he stroked a finger gently down the back of the amphibian. 
“Frog.”
“Is that its name, Frog?”
Wyatt nodded with a rising grin on his chubby cheeks, proud of himself. Justin helped the toddler hold the frog more securely, helping him cup his hands in a way that would keep the animal safer.
“Frog the frog, I like it,” Justin laughed, petting the tiny animal who was now attempting to crawl over Wyatt’s hand to god knows where. 
“Should we maybe let it go back home?” Justin carefully asked, knowing the consequences of differing one’s opinion from a child’s. 
“Yeah,” Wyatt mumbled, letting Justin lead him carefully back to the bushes where they found the frog, picking the toddler up and carrying him down the step of the terrass, just in case he’d accidentally trip and hurt himself or the frog. “Bye-bye Frog.” Wyatt waved, his entire body swaying with the “small” movement. 
“Bye, Frog,” Justin waved with him, picking Wyatt up to carry him back to his mom. The second he turned around, Wy snugly placed in his arms and chatting his ear off about the frog, he saw Y/N had already been looking at them, a warm smile on her sun kissed face. It was like the sun had lit up her entire face, everything was emphasized and clearer, somehow. 
As soon as they got within speaking distance from her, Justin smiled sheepishly, letting Wyatt down onto the ground – only for him to immediately glue himself onto his mom’s leg as best as he could with her skirt getting in the way. “Sorry, I don’t want to overstep any boundaries…”
“You didn’t, you’re completely good,” she smiled, breaking out into a soft giggle towards the end. “You’re literally so good, I mean, you might genuinely just be the best human I’ve ever met.”
“Oh, stop it,” he waved off – not just wanting to deflect the compliment, but also genuinely just not believing any of it, not that he didn’t love hearing such things from her. “That’s rich coming from super-mom over here.”
“Oh please, I’d have to be the last capable mom on earth to win that award, I can tell you that much.”
“I’m not even going to argue about this with you, that’s how ridiculous what you just said was – you having fun?” He changed the subject, shifting his body weight to stand closer to Y/N, mindful not to accidentally crush Wyatt in between them – even if he most likely wouldn’t have minded one bit.
“Yeah, Cia is really cool, I hope she likes me,” she bashfully smiled, sneaking a glance at the girl she hoped would be her friend. “Plus Ka’Oir and Wy are actually friends – which is so surprising, in a good way, ‘cause he never makes friends. At least not that quickly.”
“I’m really glad you’re having a good time. I was scared you weren’t gonna feel welcome, or something,” Justin scrunched his nose, bringing his right hand to grip hers, rubbing his thumb up and down the back of her hand. 
“I’m really glad you invited us. I know it’s a lot dating someone with a kid, not really ideal, but – you’re just so amazing about everything. Thank you.”
Justin was visibly taken aback, his eyebrows raising as his face contorted in confusion. “You do not need to thank me. I wouldn’t have done any of this if I didn’t want this. And trust me when I say I really never do this.”
“Still, thank you. It’s nice to feel wanted sometimes.”
“Better get used to it,” he mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss to the crown of her head – a display of affection that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, certainly not by his teammates. 
Justin just felt so tingly all over. He felt himself how out of character everything he had done for Y/N had been up to this point, but still it felt right and like there was no alternative. He had even hung up a drawing that Wyatt had made for him on his fridge – a green dinosaur surrounded by badly drawn trees, not that the dinosaur was much better either. But Justin loved it, and Wyatt wanted him to have it, so it immediately made its way to the fridge.
There was something motivating about it; waking up and seeing it every morning. It reminded him of a future past 25 and football, where he maybe settled down and got married. When someone was waiting for him at home, there when he woke up and went to bed. When the first thing he heard at 5 am was a pattering of feet instead of a cat’s paw in his face demanding food.
It was grounding, and something to look forward to. 
116 notes · View notes
steddieas-shegoes · 10 months
Note
Nother idea: 8 years later, Tommy & Carol apologizing to Steve for their behavior. & for immediately abandoning him when they knew he needed them most.
But Steve has people now who have shown him love, family, true friendship. And while he forgives them its not the same. He doesn't trust them. He is thriving without them.
But Carol realizes that the reason it isn't the same is bc Steve genuinely believes that they don't mean their apology. So she & Tommy actually discuss it and find a way to clear up any misunderstanding & ensure he knows they mean their apology. It works, it takes time & effort but they are once again his friends.
MY LOVE!!! STEVE REALIZING HE'S LOVED AND DOESN'T NEED HIS SHITTY EX FRIENDS CREW STAND UP!!!! I had the opportunity to really give Steve his shining moment and yell at them, but I decided that Steve would just be kind of over it, like they aren't really worth yelling at. Steve didn't do all this personal growth just to let them back in so easily, but luckily he isn't the only one who changed. You know I had to involve Eddie, of course! - Mickala ❤️
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It was too fucking early on a Saturday morning to be woken up by the buzzer of his apartment.
Whoever it was was lucky that Eddie had to go into work today or he would be committing murder at their door.
He glanced at the clock on the microwave, 10:47, okay, so not that early.
They’d had a late night, okay?
If he had a limp to show what they were up to, that was his business.
“You can leave the package in the box, I’ll grab it soon!” Steve said into the mic, hoping it was just a delivery.
“Steve? Is that you?”
He recognized the voice, though he wished he didn’t.
Eight years was a long time to go without talking to someone who used to be your best friend, but when you’d been best friends for so long, certain things couldn’t be forgotten.
“Tommy?”
“Uh yeah, man. I’m here with Carol. We actually were hoping to talk to you?”
He looked down at his almost naked body, only Eddie’s boxers covering him.
“Sure.”
He buzzed them in, not giving them any clue where he was so they would take their time getting to his door. He had to throw on clothes, brush his hair, and try to look like he hadn’t just been asleep.
He rushed to the bedroom, throwing on the first pair of jeans he saw and a t-shirt from the floor. He heard voices down the hall as he was heading to the bathroom, his hands shaking with nerves as he tried to rush to brush through his hair.
“It can’t be that Munson, though, right? Even Steve wasn’t a fan of him in school.”
Steve grimaced at Carol’s voice.
Technically, Eddie worked a half shift when he had to work Saturdays, which meant unless they were only stopping by for a few minutes, he would probably be home while they were still here.
Tommy had always hated Eddie. No one could really figure out why. Sure, a lot of people said nasty things about and to Eddie in high school, but no one else really put their hands on him the way Tommy did.
Eddie joked it must have been because he liked him, but Steve thought maybe he just had a lot of displaced anger.
At least that’s what he thought when he became a counselor and understood a lot of psychology behind why people did things.
Eddie laughed and said, “don’t overthink it, some people are just bullies.”
But Steve liked to think maybe Tommy was more complicated than that, liked to explain away his worst qualities so it made it easier to accept that he was once best friends with him.
Eddie laughed about that too, and said, “kids are stupid, and sometimes we find friends in people who make us feel better about ourselves, but you grew up.”
Steve shook his head, not wanting to think more about it.
He opened the front door, the ghosts of his past standing there, hardly aged, hardly any different at all.
“Come in, guys. Um. Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting anyone.”
They all awkwardly laughed as Tommy and Carol made their way inside.
The apartment was small, cheap rent kept them there so they could save up to buy a house outside of town in the next few years, maybe work on starting a family if they could.
They’d talked about it over the last couple of years, once Steve was settled in his job at the school, once Eddie got promoted to general manager at the shop, they’d save for a few years, have a decent down payment, start looking for a house with three or four bedrooms. Start looking into adopting. Maybe get a cat.
But to do that, their apartment was cozy, as Eddie liked to say. One bedroom, one bathroom, kitchen and living room area all one room, a tiny storage closet. They didn’t even have their own washer and dryer, which reminded Steve that he had to take their laundry downstairs and get it started soon.
Tommy and Carol looked around, but hid any emotion on their faces.
He gestured for them to have a seat on the couch, which was a hand-me-down from Wayne when they moved in. It was “too much” for his space when Eddie moved out.
They sat, though they didn’t look very comfortable.
Steve sat in the rocking chair Eddie bought, the first thing he bought for their “eventual home”, but didn’t rock as he took them in.
He originally didn’t see any proof of them aging, but now that he was looking closer, he could see Tommy’s already-receding hairline, Carol’s wrinkled by her eyes, both of them just a little softer in the face and stomach.
They looked incredibly human like this, like they weren’t some high school king and queen who only cared about how they look and what parties they could go to every weekend.
It helped Steve relax a bit.
“Not to be rude, but uh, how did you guys find me?” Steve asked, not sure he even really cared.
“We moved here to Chicago about six months ago, Tommy’s gonna run his dad’s office here starting next year, so he wanted to ease into it. I started job searching a few weeks ago for a teaching position and I noticed you worked at the school I interviewed at. We looked you up and decided we wanted to come talk,” Carol always was a bit of a rambler, always annoyed Steve when she started in on something that really didn’t matter much.
Carol nudged Tommy, who had been staring wide-eyed at Steve since he sat down.
He cleared his throat and nodded.
“We actually came here to make things right. We were best friends for years, and then one bad thing happened and we weren’t anymore. I know I fucked up with everything. We shouldn’t have treated Nancy like that, or you like that, and we’re hoping you could maybe accept our apology.”
Steve stared at them.
“We were kids. We did stupid shit. We’ve all grown. I mean, look at you! Your own apartment in the big city!”
As if he had been waiting for a cue, Eddie walked in the front door, his oil-covered coveralls already coming off. Steve made the rule after he came home one day to see oil stains on the bed sheets where Eddie had fallen asleep after working from open to close: coveralls come off as soon as he’s in the door and they go straight to the laundry room.
“Jesus, sweetheart, this is the last Saturday I cover in the shop. At least until I hire some competent mechanics. I think I did most of the work all morning. And after doing most of the work last night, I-”
“Eds! We have company!” Steve rushed out, his face bright red at what Eddie was implying.
It’s not that he really cared about what Tommy and Carol thought; Once they realized Eddie lived here, it wouldn’t be difficult to come to the conclusion that they shared a one bedroom apartment because they were together. He didn’t even care if Tommy and Carol were disgusted by him for it.
But he’d be damned if Eddie felt uncomfortable in his own home, especially if they started saying shit to him reminiscent of their high school days.
He watched Eddie turn around, recognize the people on the couch, and turn to Steve with a questioning look.
“Tommy, Carol, you remember Eddie,” Steve said, not breaking eye contact with Eddie.
They were having an entire conversation with their eyes, Steve begging Eddie to just go get cleaned up, Eddie begging Steve to explain what was going on.
Tommy’s eyes narrowed as he looked between them, Carol’s eyes stayed pointed at Eddie.
“Munson?”
“The one and only!” Eddie said, his voice pitching just a bit higher, naturally going to his over the top self to protect himself from whatever they would say.
Steve loved every version of Eddie: the performer on stage, the performer with friends, the soft version of himself that only Steve got to see, the protective version that would fight the world to make sure his loved ones were safe.
He was lucky to have every part of Eddie, even the parts that may not always be the best.
But his least favorite thing was seeing Eddie go into this mode, the one that kept him safe during school, when kids were mean, adults were mean, life was hard.
He didn’t want that for Eddie anymore.
“You guys…live together?” Tommy asked, looking back to Steve for confirmation.
Steve rolled his eyes. Tommy apparently didn’t gain any intelligence over the years.
“Yes. We’re together.”
From the look on Eddie’s face, he hadn’t expected Steve to say that.
That was fair; it took Steve nearly a year just to come out to anyone who wasn’t Robin, scared that somehow everyone would hate him, hate Eddie, hate them together.
But it went perfectly, and Steve rode the high a bit too much. He came out to his parents a few months after, and that went quite a lot less than perfectly.
He was lucky he didn’t have more head trauma from it, actually.
So he kept it quiet, didn’t come out to any new friends he met in college, even after one of them came out to him. Didn’t come out to coworkers while he worked at a cafe throughout college to pay the bills. Didn’t even come out to the bartender at their favorite bar despite the rainbow flag that was hidden behind the bar in silent support.
It was only recently that he started to feel comfortable being more open, and only in the city, only select areas where he knew they wouldn’t end up hurt.
Eddie was patient, maybe more than he deserved.
So saying it outright to the two people who suspected and bullied Eddie for being gay in high school, despite it not even being confirmed then, clearly threw Eddie for a loop.
“Oh, like…”
“Yes, exactly like that.”
Steve crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for any response that would give him permission to kick them out of his apartment, their apartment.
But he saw Carol nudge Tommy again, pasting a smile on her face. It wasn’t completely natural, but it also didn’t seem fake.
“That’s nice, Steve. Have you been together a while?”
“Since ‘86.”
“Wow! Since the quakes!”
Steve nodded.
“Steve, can you help me with something in the kitchen for a second?” Eddie asked, his voice unreadable.
Steve hated it, hated that all of a sudden he couldn’t get a grasp of what Eddie was feeling.
It had been so long since he’d experienced this.
And a small part of him blamed Tommy and Carol.
He got up, wordlessly following Eddie into the kitchen area that wasn’t even separated from the living room.
“Not that I don’t love that you’re comfortable telling them, but um. What’s. What’s happening currently?” Eddie whispered as he tried to appear busy, grabbing a glass from the cabinet to fill with water.
“They came to apologize to me. For high school.”
When he said it out loud, it sounded a bit ridiculous.
“And are you accepting it?”
“I don’t think so. I think they’re only doing it to help themselves feel better. I’m not interested in whatever game they’re playing.”
Eddie looked over Steve’s shoulder at the pair sitting on the couch.
“Need me to get rid of them? Just say so, sweetheart. I’ll kick them both to the curb.”
Steve leaned in and kissed him quickly on the lips, smiling as he pulled away.
“I got it, baby. Get cleaned up so I can hug you.”
“Just hug?”
Steve laughed as he walked back towards his spot.
“Or more!”
He focused back on Tommy and Carol, who were graciously pretending that they didn’t hear the conversation that happened less than 20 feet from them.
“So, we were wondering if you wanted to meet up for dinner, catch up? You could bring Eddie, of course!”
Of course, she said. Like they didn’t outwardly despise Eddie eight years ago. Like they were perfectly fine with him now, and fine with Steve, and fine with them.
“I think we’ll pass. Good luck to you guys in Chicago, though.”
He ignored the pang of guilt when he saw Carol’s face fall and Tommy’s eyes darted to where Eddie was closing the bedroom door and back to Steve.
“Oh. Um. Well, it would be our treat, if you’re worried about money.”
“I wasn’t.”
Tommy and Carol hadn’t expected to be shut down like this, but Steve knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t accept their apologies, and he wouldn’t expect Eddie to suddenly be friendly to people who tormented him for years.
“Okay. Well. I guess we’ll go, then.”
“Thanks for stopping by.”
He stood as they stood, walked them out the door, then closed and locked it behind them.
Steve made it to the bedroom before he felt the tears spring to his eyes.
Eddie was in the bathroom showering, so he hoped he could get it out quickly. He didn’t want Eddie to worry.
But unfortunately, once a few tears fell, it seemed like they wouldn’t stop.
He got back in bed, burying his face in the pillow so he could hopefully pretend to be asleep, but didn’t quite manage it before Eddie was walking back into the room.
He got in bed and silently pulled Steve against his chest, running his hands up and down his back to soothe him, not trying to use any comforting words.
“I don’t know why I’m upset about a stupid fake apology from people I don’t care about.”
“Stevie, it’s okay to be upset. They were your friends for a long time, and you still have a lot of hurt leftover from them.”
“I just wish things had been different then.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
Eddie kissed the top of his head, and as they lay there together, Steve realized this hurt would never quite go away.
—------------------
“T, I don’t think he believed us,” Carol said from the passenger seat.
“I can’t believe Steve’s with Eddie. Of all the people,” Tommy replied, not even acknowledging Carol’s words.
“They seem good together.”
“I guess.”
Carol knew Tommy had a crush on Steve in high school, they’d talked about it years ago when she found an old picture of Steve with a heart drawn on the back while they were moving the first time around.
She’d been caught off guard, but understood, and was fine with it when he explained it was definitely in the past.
And it was.
But a part of him was wondering how long Steve had realized he liked guys, and what might have happened if he’d just been brave enough to do something about his feelings before things went to shit.
He loved Carol, was happy to be married to her, and wouldn’t want Steve now, but still. The what-ifs plagued his mind on the drive back to their home.
“Are you jealous of Eddie?”
Carol sounded hesitant to ask, like she wasn’t sure which answer she would prefer because she knew either way, Tommy would be upset she asked at all.
“No. I’m not jealous. Steve and I would never have worked out.”
Which may not have been a great answer for his wife, but it was the truth, and they were always honest with each other if nothing else.
“Since I got the job at the school, maybe I’ll have more chances to convince him we meant it.”
Carol was good. Deep down she had always been good. But Tommy always managed to drag her down when they were young, convinced her she needed to be a mean girl to fit in with their group, kept it up through most of college before they finally realized life was better if you just weren’t awful to people.
“Yeah, maybe.”
—---------------------
So, a month later, when school started up, Carol began the task of showing Steve that they were truly sorry.
She would often leave notes in his mailbox in the office, usually just a “have a great day!” with a smiley face, or “let me know if you want to catch up over lunch!”
He never responded, but she knew he got them.
Tommy had issues with his car and took it to the shop Eddie worked at, nodding along to what he said and admitted he didn’t really know much about cars so he trusted Eddie to fix it.
It was entirely professional, but a small part of Tommy was satisfied when Eddie gave him a genuine smile.
—--------------------------
“Is it weird that they keep trying?” Steve asked one night while they were lying in bed.
“I don’t think it’s weird. I think maybe they just mean it.”
Steve pondered it.
Yeah, they must mean it. The old Tommy and Carol would have given up after he sent them out of their apartment the first time.
“Would you wanna go to dinner with them? Just give them a chance? It’s okay if you don’t want to. You don’t have to forgive them.”
Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve’s slowly, softly.
“If you want to, then I want to support you. We’re all different now. Maybe we can look at who they are now instead of who they were, as long as they can look at who we are and respect us.”
“Yeah.” Steve kissed Eddie’s cheek. “Yeah.”
—-------------------
Steve left a note for Carol the following Monday: “Dinner at ours? Friday at 7. Bring a red wine and beer.”
She wrote back that same day with a bunch of smiley faces and a response that they would be there.
When Friday came, Steve was nervous.
He’d planned to leave work right when school got out instead of leaving at five so he could make sure everything was clean and the food would be ready on time.
Eddie promised to be home by six in case he needed help.
And when six arrived, Eddie walked through the door with flowers and a smile, and Steve relaxed.
Nothing would go wrong.
Even if something did, they would be in it together, and they would support each other.
They didn’t have to do this alone like they did all those years ago.
—-------------------
It became a thing: dinner every Friday evening, sometimes at Steve and Eddie’s, sometimes at Tommy and Carol’s, sometimes at a new restaurant in the city.
The first few dinners were stilted, full of apologies and awkward catch-ups.
Then it got easier.
They got closer.
Eddie and Tommy actually became closer than Steve and Tommy ever were. Eddie showed him how to change his own oil so he could “stop bothering him at work just so he could look at his sexy coveralls.” Tommy rolled his eyes, but was grateful to learn.
Carol and Steve would often bake dessert together, catching up on school gossip, the latest who was dating who always entertaining them just as it did when they were in high school.
There were still the occasional moments where Steve thought about how much they hurt him, and Eddie thought about how they might be teasing him behind his back.
But it was rare, and they usually talked themselves out of it.
They were the first people to find out when Carol was pregnant, and the first people to learn it was twins. Carol and Tommy were the first (okay, first after Robin) people to find out when their offer on a house was accepted.
Tommy ended up cutting ties with his father when he found out that Steve and Eddie were together and threatened to cut him off. Tommy had a degree, and now had years of experience under his belt, and wasn’t worried about finding another job, one where he knew he earned his position because of his work and not being the boss’ son.
And when Steve and Eddie were able to finally adopt a little girl in 2002, Tommy and Carol were at the courthouse taking pictures of the new family, their own kids already best friends with her.
350 notes · View notes
cowyolks · 7 months
Note
hey! first off, just wanted to say i found your blog last night with your 'to dull the shovels and smoke' and i instantly fell in love with your work. you are seriously talented, and it was a joy to read!
then i saw your requests were open and figured i'd drop one in! (:
i feel like our boy gaz needs more love! i saw this tiktok awhile back of tropes that would go well with some of the cod characters, and I really liked the idea of a gaz x reader where they used to be friends as kids, then sort of lost contact as they grow older, but then they meet again in like the military/wherever and they're both obviously smitten for one another and everyone sees it except for them a;sdlkjf
feel free to tweak it as you like. (i'm going through gaz love withdrawals) i know my explanation is a bit jumbled. do whatever comes to mind, and good luck in your studies! <3
YOU’RE GOLDEN SUNSHINE, IT’S SHADOWS WHEN YOU’RE GONE
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Pairing: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Female Reader
Prompt: In which you meet Kyle Garrick again after years of not seeing each other. In a gravitational pull, you find your long forgotten adoration resurfacing again.
Words: 4.3 K
Warnings: Graphic description of injury, fighting, sleezy men at the pub, inaccuracy about soccer, mutual pinning for YEARS, other than that this is a cute one.
A/n: My tribute to GazFest by @glitterypirateduck please enjoy!
You’d never been one to believe in fate, or anything as foolish as a destiny. But sometimes, you wondered if there was some force or reason for your gravitation towards Kyle Garrick.
He’d been a constant for more than half of your life. He was a warm sun, constantly glowing and gentle. A true friend, someone you could rely on to keep secrets, to council in, to laugh your arse off with.
You’d wished he’d been more before you’d left London.
The first time you ever met him, you were six, in the wonderfully blissful years of your youth. You’d been outdoors, enjoying the rare afternoon sunshine of the weekend. Your parents had corralled you to the park, hoping you’d burn off some of your childish energy in hopes of getting you to sleep through all the night.
They’d sat under a pavilion, immediately conversing with a couple tired parents that supervised their children as well.
You’d had shuffled over to the swing set, fully intending on gliding yourself into the seat and making sure you were the one to go the highest in the air. That was, until you heard a quiet little sniffle from behind you.
Your rounded eyes zeroed in on a boy, a boy with tears glazed in his eyes. He was alone, no friends playing near him. It’d made your youthful mind turn in thought, did he need a friend? Why was he crying?
Reluctantly, you slid off the plastic seat of the swing, making your way hesitantly towards the boy. Fat tears flew down his cheeks like rain, but he used the back of his hand to violently wipe the tears from his cheeks when he saw your shadow encase him.
“Hello!” You announced, not yet accustomed to the sense of conversation etiquette or personal boundaries.
“Hello.” He sounded solemn, but not completely gutted. You took this as a good sign to sit next to him on the pebbled gravel.
“Why are you crying?” You had asked, blinking towards him. His eyes were the color of sweet milk chocolate, pleasantly warm. He’d fiddled with the blue tee loose around his torso, before he reluctantly hiccuped.
“I fell down, my leg hurts.” He pointed to the angry red scratch on his kneecap, dirt and grass sticking to his skin. It wasn’t quite deep enough to draw blood. Still, you remember your Mum explaining something called an infection to you. He needed to wash it.
“It needs a rinse.”
“Why?”
You huffed, standing from the gravel and holding out your hand to your new potential friend. “Because.”
The boy must not have seen it in his best interest to argue with a stubborn six year old, so he used your hand to pull himself up, a frown etching on his lips as the irritated skin stretched when he stood. You’d led him over to the fountain, reaching up on your tip toes to cup cool water into your hands.
“Ready?”
“No… ow!” The boy whined, watching the water fall down to his socks in an unpleasant manner. You did it again, letting the water attempt to soothe away the burning ache.
“Feel better?”
“Um, kinda. What’s your name?” The boy asked, wringing his fingers against his shirt again. You took the time to introduce yourself, a wide smile returning to your face at the sudden prospect of having a new friend, although you’d already seen him hurt and cry.
“What’s yours?” You’d asked, while the two of you made your way back to the swing set again.
“I’m Kyle.”
You’d spent the rest of the day taking turns pushing each other back and forth on the swing set, happily enjoying the company until your parents and his Gran ushered you to go back home. You’d said your goodbyes, placing a sweet kiss on his round cheek.
“Mum always says when you get hurt, a kiss helps.” You supplied, not noticing Kyle holding his palm to his cheek, eyes wide and staring as you’d turned to leave with your parents.
“Mum! Have you seen Kyle’s jersey?” You hollered from your room, touching up the last few pieces of your clothing and appearance.
“Should be on the stairway!”
Quickly, you rushed down the steps, taking a quick two at a time to reach the light blue colored jersey draped over the railing. Carefully, pulling the material over your head, you took the time to pinpoint the smell of him. Cedar, Warm Amber, and a hint of something sweetly citrus, like the lemon drop candies he always indulged in.
The boy you’d met in the park had changed drastically, it’d been pure coincidence that you’d shared the same teacher in primary school though now. He’d been the one constant that had stayed through multiple fallen out friendships and disastrous adolescence. That wasn’t to say he hasn’t changed, for one, he’d grown like a weed, now towering over most of his peers.
His once chubby cheeks grew into his body, sharpening along with his jaw and strong nose. His eyes were still as warm and soft on you as they always were. Muscles crawled amongst his arms and legs like wildfire, veins growing more visible. He was absolutely gorgeous, any girl and guy at school would say so. Yet, Kyle managed to stay to himself, fiercely loyal to the little friends he had throughout his childhood.
You’d received many dirty looks for it.
Especially now, as you settled onto the steel bleachers with your two friends. Immediately, jealous eyes settled onto the blue of the jersey you wore, whispers breaking out into the growing crowd. You wanted to scream from the rooftops that Kyle simply didn’t like you like that. You wished he did, but you never noticed any interest. But that wouldn’t stop their stares, as long as he talked to you enthusiastically, walked you home after your volunteer shifts at the hospital, or shared a movie with you on the weekends.
You watched as he jogged over to the net, tightening the gloves on his wrists with a determined look on his features.
The game was running smoothly, your school up two goals and looking less winded than the opponent. Kyle hadn’t let a single ball escape him, his hands and knees stopping the zooming object in ridiculously fast reflexes. You’d shouted your voice hoarse cheering for him, lucky enough to catch his wink as he threw another ball out to his Midfielder.
It was the last minute of the game when a particularly cocky Striker crept up to the goal. He’d been one of the main concerns of your team. The whole game he’d thrown risky kicks and even put his hands on your teammates. You’d seen red when he didn’t get carded.
You were especially irritated when the teen was headed straight towards Kyle, straight towards him. He hardly even had control of the ball, kicking it sloppily next to him before lazily striking it forward. Kyle flew himself in the direction of the ball, eyes only on preventing it from crossing the post.
Suddenly, the striker brought his cleat up, booting the sharp material into the flesh of Kyle’s shoulder, shoe scraping all the way from his chin to clavicle.
The crowd uproared instantly, hisses and boos echoing throughout the whole field. You didn’t make a sound, your eyes only glued to Kyle’s hunched form, the ball tucked to his chest and safe. He stood suddenly, albeit a little shaky. You could see the deep color of blood soaking through his Jersey, but the red patch dulled in comparison to the beaming smile on his lips.
The game was over. He had personally defended and won the game for your school. The crowd cheered so loud you winced, but it all drowned out when he met your eyes, his smile possibly going even wider.
You’d arrived at his house an hour later, a little white kit held in your hands as you knocked on the door. You knew that your best friend was absolutely horrible about taking care of himself, you’ve known since you were the sheer age of six. He’d likely need the first aid kit you gripped.
The door opened with a creak, revealing a beaming Gran Garrick. The sweet old woman had watched Kyle for most of his life, for at a young age, Kyle’s dad had died fighting on enemy lines. You would see the admiration in Kyle’s eyes as he occasionally studied the picture of his dad in uniform on the mantle. In golden shiny text below,
Thomas ‘Gaz’ Garrick.
It was a horrible situation, but you wouldn’t change Gran for the world. She was kind, effortlessly funny, and treated you and Kyle as her own children.
“I’m glad you’re here! Boy hasn’t stopped asking about you since he came home. I had to force him in the shower, mind you.” Gran started off, ushering you inside as she made her way back into her recliner to watch the late night soaps.
“How’s his shoulder?” You asked, hearing shuffling and the cut of running water from above you.
“You know he doesn’t let me look after him like that. Thinks he’s big and strong and all that.” She chortled. You resisted the urge to say yes, yes he is big and strong.
“I trust you’re here to patch him up?”
“Yes, ma’am.” You replied, holding up the first aid kit for her to see. Gran waved you on, going back to her soaps with a pleasant look in her eyes, as if she knew something you didn’t. You ascended the stairs, making your way to the bathroom door with a sigh.
You brought your fist up, knocking.
“One sec!” You heard Kyle call, excitement lacing his voice. You resisted the urge to playfully roll your eyes. He’d likely received a deep shoulder wound, but it didn’t stop his cheerfulness.
Kyle opened the door in a rush, nearly making you fall into him since you rested your shoulders against it. “Woah! Easy there Sunshine!” Kyle joked, straightening you out with a strong forearm. He smelt freshly clean, the scent of Amber, Cedar, and sweetened citrus. You adverted your eyes away from him as quickly as you studied him. Oh, God, he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Dark sweatpants clung low to his hips, hugging the muscle of his thighs and calves. Your eyes travelled to his injured shoulder, attempting to avoid the toned perfection of his skin.
God, you wished he loved you as much as you loved him.
“Let’s get you patched up, Garrick.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Wanna watch a movie after?” You asked.
“As long as I pick.”
He’d been in a horrible mood all evening. This whole week had been absolutely dreadful. To start, it was week of his father’s passing, a time when even his Gran didn’t have a smile on her face. He’d never really adapted to the pain of losing his idol all those years ago.
Second, he’d received his letter of acceptance into the British Army, something that burned a hole in his pocket for over three days.
He’d been ecstatic to tell his Gran, and she had laughed in pride. But a slice of fear encased her too, Gaz could tell by the dull look in her eyes, she didn’t want him to end up like her son. Kyle was even more nervous to tell you.
His heart grew sore just at the thought. You’d been a part of each others lives for nearly two decades. You were his everything, and to be away from you? He felt the creeping dread lay on him like a fog.
He’d always considered himself to be brave. Someone willing to protect the world and dirty his own hands. He’d prided himself in his loyalty and selflessness— It was just who he was. That is until you invade and infect every thought of his. He wished he could just mutter those impossible words— I love you. Yet, his throat locked up on him, refusing to let out any sound. It’s not like it would be enough, no mere three words would amount to how much he cared, how much he loved.
Past, present, and future— he thinks.
He thinks of you and him on the playground, the child-like innocence he wants to protect and cherish. He thinks of your laughter as he chases you around his home, playing an intense game of tag, oh how he fell for you in his childish adoration.
How you’d look with a wedding band on your finger of his own choosing. How he’d bawl tears at how absolutely ethereal you’d look. For you to finally be able to see the tiny sliver of love and affection you deserved.
But the present time? He couldn’t think of anything besides guilt and jealousy.
Now he sat clenching the pint of beer he nursed, his teeth gritting so hard he felt the dull pain in his gums. You’d been speaking to some idiot named Greg, hand waving around ecstatically as you nursed the mixed drink in the other palm.
You’d called on this party, inviting some of your closest friends and Kyle. It was a surprise to him when so many people showed up, flooding the bar and moving to you. He couldn’t blame them for trying to get close, you were ridiculously beautiful and effortlessly kind. Smart and loyal, Compassionate and Joyful.
Greg had been scooting closer to you all night. The once meter of space between you had disappeared. You’d definitely noticed, judging by the way you’d moved subtly in the opposite direction, shifting closer to him instead. Kyle felt a bubble of satisfaction flutter inside his chest, knowing you’d been more comfortable around him than the idiot.
“So, what are you doing later?” Greg asked over the music, not caring or noticing that you seemed uncomfortable.
“Heading to Kyle’s flat, we have movie night on Saturdays.” You answered, shoulders tensed. Kyle could tell that you hated every minute of this. You were a people pleaser and hated confrontation, so it was no surprise that you continued to entertain him. He just wished the man would get the hint already.
“We can watch a movie at my place.” Greg suggested, making Kyle visibly seethe. Greg’s eyes flickered to him, a nasty and smug look covering his features when you weren’t looking.
“I don’t think so mate.” Kyle spoke for you, reducing his slouching and nearly hovering over you as he glared at Greg. “Why not? This your bitch or something?”
In his twenty one years of life, Kyle Garrick never thought he’d seen more red. How dare this ignorant slime of a human being call you such a vile name?
“The fuck you just say?”
“Oh lay off it, I’ll give her back after I fuck her, I’d keep her but no one wants damaged goods.”
Glass shattered as it collided with the flesh of Greg’s face. Beer pooling sticky on his shirt as Kyle ruthlessly beat his fist into his jaw, his eyes, his nose. Anything he could reach, he punched. You’d shrunk back, basically cowering as he had flung himself over you.
His ears rang, flooded by the pure rage that radiated through his entire being. The ambience of the bar and laughter long gone, the only thing he heard was the satisfying crunch of Greg’s nose, along with the weak gurgles that escaped him.
“Kyle!” You’d screamed, allowing him to snap back to the present. Tears streamed down your face, fat and heavy. All at once, he’d felt the pit in his stomach, he wondered if the tears streaming down your face was the cause of him or Greg. Without saying a word, Kyle dropped Greg’s shirt collar, clenching his bloodied knuckles as he rushed out the door, No longer in the mood for any company.
The pub wasn’t far from his flat, he could make it there with little trouble. The weight of his acceptance letter weighed even heavier in his pocket. Especially knowing he’d be leaving in the next two days. To leave on bad terms with you would destroy him.
“Wait!”
“Kyle, please stop!”
He’d slowed, turning his head to watch you follow after him, cheeks puffy and eyes irritated from crying. God, this was all his fault.
He said nothing as you latched to his arm, feeling the dents of your soft fingertips through his windbreaker, the heat of your skin slightly calming him from thinking about what he had done. He’d single-handedly ruined your party, causing a scene in front of so many people. And here you were with him, instead of enjoying yourself.
“I’m so sorry, Sunshine, ruined your whole night.” Kyle spit out, hanging his head and attempting to hide his face under the ball cap he wore. Blood splattered against the cement of the sidewalk, dripping from his knuckles like a ticking clock.
Shocking waves of surprise rippled through him as he heard your gentle laugh. Head glanced down at you, your lips pulled up and head shaking in indifference.
“Ruined my night? I just wanted it to be us and my two friends. It was awful being around that guy, I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t there to save me.”
Instant relief fell off him in waves, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the two of you continued to walk to his flat. “He deserved more than what I gave him.” Kyle growled, not noticing the pure look of adoration cross your eyes.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you. Now, let’s go home, I need to patch you up again.” You teased, leading the way a little faster to his home.
You’d pushed him into the bathroom the second he’d unlocked the door, ushering him to sit on the hard marble of the bathtub. He did so willingly, now that his adrenaline was gone, waves of pain flew and radiated down his busted knuckles.
You’d leant over to pull the faded first aid kit from beneath his sink, long since needing to be replaced from how many times you needed to use it. You’d settled yourself between Kyle’s legs, the warmth of his thighs radiating as you held onto his wrist.
“I didn’t need you hurting yourself over me.” You whispered, taking clean tweezers and removing the small pieces of glass from his skin.
“That’s what you’re worried about, Sunshine?”
You huffed, attempting to slow your rapid heartbeat. You’d grown accustomed to the constant palpitations that always came when you were around him.
“Well yes. I won’t always be around to fix you up.”
A bittersweet feeling clung off the air, violating your lungs as your own jacket pocket burned with the slip of paper in it. A letter of acceptance into the Medical Graduate program at Yale. You’d graduated top of your class for undergrad, and had an amazing opportunity to continue in America to become a doctor.
Kyle had titled his head, a frown peaking from his lips as you finished wrapping a bandage along his knuckles, placing a kiss upon his cheek as you always did when you finished.
“What do you mean you won’t always be here?” He asked, unconsciously placing his hands around the swell of your hips, holding you to him like an anchor.
With a sigh, you fished into your pocket, pulling out the acceptance letter that held onto your bittersweet future in a vice. It was an amazing opportunity, and having the title, Doctor, before your name would be incredible. Kyle took the paper carefully, scanning over the words as his lips tilted up and eyes watered.
“I’ll be damned, always knew you were way too smart for your own good. Congratulations, Sunshine.” He managed, handing the paper back to you in a sorrow that made your heart hurt. You still stood in between in legs, never wanting to move from the spot.
“I’ll still visit on holidays and breaks,” you reassured, a watery grin finding its way onto your lips. You hated the fact that you’d leave him.
Kyle shook his head, his own hand slipping to grab that damned letter.
“I don’t think so, Sunshine.”
You’d read his own letter, a proud and sorrowful smile mimicking what he just experienced. He’d watched as your face turned from worried to completely gutted, a lone tear rolling down your face. He’d reached up, trapping the drop of liquid and wiping it away. “Don’t cry, Love, I’m sure we’ll think of something.” He pleaded, but it didn’t stop his heart from shattering.
This must be the end.
For now, he just wanted to hold you.
Twelve years later
“Hold pressure here, I’ll be back to reassess in twenty minutes.” You advised, wiping your hands on the white coat you’d earned over the years.
Your hands twisted under your gloves, pulling them off with a snap as you went to the next patient on your list. Spreading disinfectant on your hands, you flipped open a clipped folder all about your next victim.
MacTavish, John.
Patient forcibly admitted under the orders of his lieutenant after a laceration to his bicep from loose debris from C4.
You huffed, always used to soldiers hurting themselves. In a way, it reminded you of Kyle, how you spent more time with him with a needle in your hands than without.
You padded down the hallway, settling in front of the door the sergeant was admitted to. You knocked softly, hearing a muffled, “come in.”
“Sergeant MacTavish?” You verified, eyes filtering to a tall Scottish man with a particularly interesting haircut. He was pretty, in a way that suggested he knew it. Not that it was exactly professional for you to think so.
“Aye, that’s me.” He confirmed, a small smirk on his lips as you approached.
“Heard you took a bit of a tumble.” You stated, eyes twinkling in a gentle amusement. He’d mimicked the gesture, bringing his hand up to reveal his wound. “Ye’ could say that. Usually I’m the one blowin’ people up, not the other way ‘round.”
The wound could have looked better. The angry flush of first degree burning skin immediately grabbed your attention, among with the rather deep center. He would need stitches, and likely an antibiotic to prevent infection.
“Hope you’re not scared of needles.” You joked slightly, pulling on a pair of spare gloves while you fished in your supplies.
“Naw’, much scarier things out there, ya know.”
A small smile tugged at your lips, you liked this patient of yours. Many of them were pissed when they came in, or others bluntly hit on you. At times you joked with your coworkers about buying a wedding ring.
You set to work on his arm, disinfecting the area and numbing it.
“So how’d it happen?” You asked to pass time, although you were relatively quick with your stitches. You’d done this since you were twelve after all.
“Ghost and I were headed to exfil, we were held up by the cartel. Passed through a building but it was wired. I noticed it a second too late. Luckily Ghost got me outta there, while Gaz and Price covered us.” John explained, not noticing your halting needle and surprised face at the word of his other sergeant’s callsign.
“You said Gaz?” You asked, hardly containing your curiosity and eager questioning.
“Yes?” John answered back hesitantly. “Is he here?” You interrogated as you finished the last knot. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this soldier had the same callsign as Kyle’s dad, right?
“He’s meeting me here so we can go to the mess hall.” John spoke, confusion lacing his voice and eyebrows pinching together. Yet, he didn’t have time to ask any questions, for booted feet glided down the hall, thudding nearly as loud as your beating heart.
You decided then and there, if it was him, you’d put decades of friendship aside, just to tell him even a slice of how you feel. Of how much you loved him.
Then he was there. In front of you again.
He was there and even more handsome than when you left for Grad School. His warm caramel colored eyes darted from MacTavish to you, nearly widening out of his socket as he did a double take.
“Sunshine?” He murmured, looking as if he’d pinch himself out of this illusion. You’d managed to slap off your gloves, before very unprofessionally sprinting in his direction.
He’d just barely settled his feet before you jumped in his arms, his biceps curling around you and picking you up effortlessly. You’d clung to him there, legs wrapped around his waist as you inhaled the smell of him again. Cedar and citrus.
Kyle Garrick.
“Naw! Naw way, ya never said the woman ya fancied was a doctor!” Soap blurted, standing suddenly as he narrowed in on the moment. Your smile grew wide at the words the Scotsman announced. Maybe this was all a dream? Kyle fancied you? The man hid his glare, but Soap took enough of a hint to thank you and leave. Reluctantly you stepped back, still embarrassingly close to him.
“What are you doing here?” Gaz could hardly contain his excitement, the boyish feelings he buried now coming back in full speed like a missile.
“I work here on base. I moved back to London last month, picked a job where I knew I could help.” You explained, cheeks burning from smiling so much.
“I reckon we’ll see a lot of each other then.” Gaz brought you into another hug, arms wrapping so tightly you could hardly breathe. Damn, he’d gotten stronger and more fit. And you didn’t think it possible.
“So was MacTavish right? You fancy me?” You asked, no longer fearing. It’d been long enough, twelve years of not seeing each other, even longer adoring him.
“‘Course. I’ve loved you since I was six and you kissed my cheek on the playground.” Gaz laughed. It seemed he didn’t care to lose more time either. Twelve years was too long without you, the sneaked Polaroid of you in his pocket was the only thing that kept him sane.
“We have a lot to catch up on, huh?” You teased, no longer feeling the crippling aspect of fear and rejection.
You’d squeaked when he kissed your lips in yearning, savoring the taste of a man you’d loved all your life, with nothing more satisfying than being able to admit it. To show him, just how much you cared. Just how much you yearned for his addicting touch and hypnotic kisses. You sighed heavenly as he pulled away.
“How about a movie date Friday?” He asked, reminiscing on old times.
“You know I could never say no.” You answered, looking forward to the future.
Tags: @glitterypirateduck @pukbadger @ysljoon @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @mykneeshurt
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chromatographic · 5 months
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Bruce Clone Danny Fic pt 5
i really need a proper title for this one.
Happy Tuesday! Our previous episodes are all found under the Bruce Clone Danny Fic tag. No, this fic still hasn't told me it's name. But as it's Cloned from Clock's City Pigeons Bleed Green i'm considering something referencing Mourning Doves now. For funsies. Part 4, last week, is where the end of chapter 1 would be if I were posting this on AO3 btw. (I'll get there eventually).
Pt 1 Pt2 Pt 3 Pt 4
***
Danny curls in on himself, even as his wounds pull with the motions. He’s so weak. He’s so exposed.
He can’t - he doesn’t know what will happen. To him. To Ellie - sister-cousin-daughter of a neverborn halfa, born after her own death, somewhere out there herself. They thought, once, maybe - maybe - … 
When he was little, maybe around five or six? He’d heard his parents talking once, after they thought he was asleep. He’d snuck onto the staircase just to hear them talk.
They were thinking about another kid. Something with the ‘same problems as before’, something with ‘household expenses’ but all Danny could think about then, was having another family member come to him. His to love, to teach, to keep safe, like his Mom and Dad worked to do with him, like Jazz did all the time. He loved them, and he wondered, a bit, what it’d be like to be loved like that.
To protect someone else the way they’d protected him.
But they’d ended the conversation on a sad note, and Danny crept back upstairs to bed, quiet as anything, and he’d never gotten the little sister that Dad said he wanted and Mom sighed and wished for.
And Danny had thought, well. That’s fine. Things disappoint you, right? You don’t always get ice cream after dinner and sometimes your Mom forgets to give you lunch money that week so you don’t eat, and sometimes you see a dog you really want to go over and pet but you ask the owner and the owner says no, because the dog is too scared. And sometimes you don’t get a little sister.
Danielle - Ellie, as Tucker dubbed her after they’d caused too much chaos once with the same name thing - was a gift, even if it had been one with creepy ass strings attached. Even if Vlad didn’t care about her and his parents Jack and Maddie couldn’t know about her and he and Jazz got somewhere between two days and seven out of every month seeing her face to face.
She was still his.
And it didn’t matter, anymore. What happens to Danny. If he could protect her, and help Sam and Tucker and Valerie back home, and help Jazz, who didn’t deserve Jack and Maddie either, and help stop all of this.
Johnny 13 didn’t deserve this. Kitty didn’t. Ember and Technus and Skulker and Sidney Poindexter and Frostbite and Clockwork and so many of them didn’t deserve this.
“Aww, buddy, I love having another for Clone Club but it also always kind of sucks to get another for Clone Club,” Superboy says, behind him.
“Yeah,” Red Robin agrees. “This is one of those times where I hate being right,” the guy sighed.
“You think you’re Bruce Wayne’s clone then, kid?” Hood asks, his voice gentle. “You look like him. Do you know why they cloned the guy?”
“Didn’t have time to look at the docs, but it might be in there. Was kind of busy trying not to get Ended,” Danny winces. “But with Jack and Maddie? Odds are it was an accident.”
“How do you know that?”
Danny snorts a little, and winces when it hurts.
“Hey, buddy, need more water there?” Red Robin is gentle.
“Yeah,” he says, and well, it’s true.
“What’d I say about interrogation, Hood?” Superboy grumbles, and there’s more water at Danny’s lips. The waterbottle, insulated, with the ice - it’s one of those with the wider lips, though, and with the cap off he sips greedily.
Cold. Nice.
“I’m trying to figure it out. You know the old man will be terrible with this one,” Hood replies.
“Hood,” Red Robin sighs “You know I hate having to remind you of our usual protocols.”
“Yeah well, you could use a bit of loosening up and not being a picky little asshole about it. I mean, look at the kid, you think he’s not gonna wind up knowing this shit anyway?”
“Can you two just not for a bit? Please?” Superboy sounds exacerbated. “I don’t know what’s got a bug up their bonnetts this time,” Superboy tells Danny, “but they’ve been sniping at each other for days.”
Danny sips a bit more ice.
He gives Superboy a little nod. “Sounds like home,” he says, thinking of Sam and Tuck, and the way he and Jazz could snipe when they got into moods.
“Your - Jack and Maddie argue in front of you a lot, Danny?” Hood sounds… mad?
Oh. Oh!
“OH, no, I was thinking about my sister. And my friends,” Danny adds.
He isn’t prepared for how everyone in the room stiffens at that.
“Do we need an extraction?” Red Robin asks.
He must look confused, because Hood adds, “For your sister. She somewhere safe?”
Danny blinks a few times. Because what?
Superboy just sighs. “Danny, it’s pretty clear that your parent- former parents? Jack and Maddie - hurt you. If your sister is still in danger, we want to start working to get her out.”
Thank you, Superboy, he thinks, for explaining. Or trying to. Because… no. He still doesn’t really understand.
“No? Jazz isn’t a ghost. She’s their kid. They won’t hurt her.”
Danny’s too tired to worry about the looks the guys all give each other at his answer.
“If I’m gonna be awake can we turn that thing off?” he whines, throwing a hand up towards the ceiling light. The motion doesn’t wind up being that big, but he hurts. “Do you have more ecto? It might help.”
Red Robin moves, and turns on another lamp - a standing one, before switching off the ceiling light. Thank goodness, that helps.
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johnwickb1tsch · 4 months
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you’re the worst thing (i’m addicted to)
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a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here...
Part 1.
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“Hey, Hels.”
There is no answer, only the warbling of a bird in a distant tree. The day is bright and blue, spring has come again in all her glory. It doesn’t seem right, somehow, that the sun should still shine, and the birds should still sing.
Because she is gone.
It’s been two years, but you still haven’t really wrapped your head around it.
You still have your last text message thread with her in your phone. It’s as though you could just punch a few buttons and still talk to her. Always, she would answer you, no matter what she was doing. Sometimes you want to type in I miss you and hit send, just to see what might happen.
But then, maybe it is appropriate, that today should be such a beautiful day. On this day, forty-two years ago, your sister was born. Roughly ten years later, you followed. As a direct result, your mother died of complications in childbirth.
Your father still blamed you, but Helen never did.
In a way, Helen was your mother, more than the woman who bore you.
It makes it all hurt so much more.
“Happy birthday, by the way.”
You look down at the stone, this massive granite behemoth. You find it rather ugly, to be honest, but it will certainly stand the test of time, nuclear war notwithstanding. Loving Wife, reads the epitaph below.
You know it was true.
You know that perhaps John Wick is the only person Helen loved more than you. But the inscription still seems too brief. Short changing her, somehow. 
But then, John paid for the stone, so you suppose he got to pick what it said. 
You were ensuring her memory lived on in other ways. 
“I finally did as you asked,” you tell her. “I’ve used the photos you left me in a painting. We're going to be in a show together. I wish you were here to see it.”
There is a mean part of you that suspects your submission was only accepted because it contained work from the late, great, photographer Helen Morgan-Wick, but you shove that down into the seething pit with all the rest of your fears and doubts. You didn't use them for the attention. You did it to feel close to her, and because she asked you to. One final art project, the note had said. She knew you too well, knew that the only thing that kept you from toeing the line of the abyss was a good artistic obsession.
You knew she’d planned to leave a project for John too. A puppy, she’d said. You’d shared a laugh over it, through tears, the last time you’d been together. You never found out how that had gone. John hadn’t attended a family gathering since Helen passed.
Too painful.
You didn’t blame him one bit. 
“I miss you, Hels. I feel so lost without you.”
“Amen.”
The sound of another voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You turn to find him, in one of his signature tailored black suits, looking unfairly scrumptious despite the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't made a sound in his approach. He never did. The man moved like a ghost and looked like a dark dream. You'd always found him insanely attractive.
You'd never done anything about that, of course. But goddamn, you had eyes.
“Hi, John.”
“Hello, y/n.”
You’ve never run into him at the gravesite before, though you have seen the wilted offerings of daisies left by the stone, and you always had assumed they’d come from him. You haven’t seen him since Helen’s funeral. He hasn’t changed much, really, though there is a sharpness to his aspect you’d never noticed when Helen was alive. An edge to his gaze; how can eyes so dark convey so much? Despite yourself, it sends a little thrill down your spine that you absolutely know you should not revel in.  
Maybe you haven’t seen him in person after Helen passed, but you’ve gazed at him plenty through Helen’s lens. There had been so many photographs of him in the collection of prints she’d left you. Nothing risqué, but the way he’d looked at her even through the camera had been nothing less than intimate.
There were times, late at night in your studio, when you’d pretended he’d been looking at you that way.
“How…have you been?” 
He offers a grim shadow of a smile and a shake of his head that you understand all too well. 
“Nice to be with someone you don't have to pretend with.”
“Yeah.”
You both stare down at the grave, meditating on your loss of this woman who touched you both so completely.
“Do you think she can hear us?” you ask, unable to lift your voice above a whisper.
There is a long pause from her widower, the man she left behind.
“Not really.” He lifts his face to the sun, eyes closed, as though maybe he can feel something of her presence. “But you should talk to her anyway. I might be wrong.”
You smile at that.
“Do you ever talk to her?”
“All the time,” he admits with a huff of self-deprecating laughter. “But then, I might just be losing my mind.”
“Ah well. That makes two of us then.”
You gently lay down the bouquet of Gerber daisies you'd brought for her. Helen’s favorite. If you ever have a garden, you will plant some for her. As it is, you have to buy them from the store. You remember the patch of daisies she’d cultivated in the garden of your childhood home. Their cheerful faces and soft petals. They had been your mother’s favorite too. When you were a girl Helen would sing to you and braid them in your thick hair. You couldn’t know at the time, how precious those perfect days had been.
The wave of sorrow hits you like a freight train, the weight of your loss a crushing force. You start to cry, hiding your face in your hands; you would prefer to do this alone, but you cannot stop it.
You feel an arm about your shoulders. It surprises you—John was never a touchy-feely man, never one for hugs, always preferring a wave or a handshake. Only for Helen, did he ever display any sort of affection. They had always been touching, holding hands or sitting hip to hip on the couch, his strong arm slung protectively around her shoulders. You didn’t want to say you’d been envious of that, but…perhaps you’d wondered, what it might be like, to be so cherished.
When he pulls you against him you only manage some token resistance. “I’ll mess up your suit.” You sound pitiful, even to you.
“I have an excellent dry cleaner.”
His dry wit had always amused you. This time, it breaks you, and you give in. He is solid as an oak, and as it turns out, his chest is an excellent place to cry on. Under the shelter of his chin you wring yourself dry, until it feels like you have nothing left inside you. His large hand rests lightly upon the back of your head, shielding you from the world. He is warm, and his cologne is subtle but heavenly. Sandalwood, maybe, and something spiced. Cardamom, perhaps. A hint of pepper.
You don’t particularly want to move, even though you absolutely should. Yet his hold on you has not loosened, and you tell yourself that maybe John Wick needed a hug just as badly as you did.
“People keep telling me that it gets easier, and I just want to punch them in the face,” you sniffle.
A huff of laughter escapes him. You feel it stir your hair on the top of your head. “Yeah. I get that.”
Finally you pull back, though not as far as you should. You’ve never actually been this close to him before, and you look at each other from a foot away. Sometimes proximity can shatter the illusion of someone’s attractiveness—but not this man. The impossible angle of his cheekbones, the soft scruff of his beard…is it just you, or does the edge in his gaze soften a little, when he looks at you? It makes your legs a little weak, and you kind of hate yourself for it.
It has nothing to do with you, stupid, you tell yourself. Where you and Helen weren’t exactly twins, you did resemble each other strongly. In profile, you’d been mistaken for her in public plenty of times before. If anything, it was probably unnerving for this poor man who missed his wife so much, to hold you, a sorry facsimile, in his arms. Out of pity, most likely.  
Helen had been the good sister. The upstanding one, the kind one. You? You can be such a twisted little thing.
“Sorry,” you sigh, noticing the smudge of makeup on his lapel.
He doesn’t even glance down, that intense gaze still fixed upon you. “Don’t be.”
Unbidden heat blooms from your cheeks to your toes, finding yourself the subject of that gaze. You’ve got to go, before you really embarrass yourself.
“I'll leave you alone. It was nice to see you, John.”
You turn to go, hugging yourself against the early spring chill. Why did you have to feel so bereft, without his arms around you? You take a few steps before he calls after you, “Y/n?”
You freeze in your tracks, a thrill jetting down your spine. “Yeah?” you dare, turning to half look over your shoulder.
“I…was thinking about going to Helen’s favorite restaurant tonight. Would you like to join me?”
Your heart beats double time in your chest, as you slowly turn to face him. You should say no. There’s a thousand reasons you should say no. This was your sister’s husband. It doesn’t matter that he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, and that he’s been kind to you, and that he’s looking at you like he might drown if you say no.
“I would like that,” you answer, and your heartbeat thundering in your ears sounds like the hammering of nails into your own coffin.
Part 2
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graceylacey · 12 days
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is laios touden happy?
I keep coming back to the question that a lot of Dungeon Meshi (manga) fans seem to be asking: is Laios happy at the end?
My two cents on this is: well, yeah. He actually is.
He’s sacrificed a lot, it seems, far more than all of the other characters. He’s the driving force behind the reason they survived to save Falin - through eating the monsters. Only in the end, he’s not able to explore dungeons, be near monsters (RIP his special interest) or even eat without feeling 30% empty. It’s a real tough bargain.
But that’s the whole point. And that loss makes the story so much more impactful to me.
When talking with the Winged Lion at the end, Laios’ true desires appear. But we can see through Mithrun, Thistle and Marcille’s time as Dungeon Lords that The Winged Lion seems to expose really selfish wishes that, whilst having good intent, don’t end up benefiting others the way the Dungeon Lord wants.
Obvious as it may seem, Laios’ true main wish IS to save Falin over the course of his storyline. It’s what drives him despite having other, arguably impossible, desires that he longs for.
Even though Laios wishes to become a monster, this desire has never overtaken his motivation in any other part of the narrative.
Yes, he loses a lot. But he’s gained Falin.
It seems obvious, but that’s the key to why I think this is a good ending for him. It’s about sacrifice. Itsusumi is a great microcosm for this - you have to do things you don’t want to do, eat things you don’t want to eat. You also have to give up things you don’t want to in order to gain more.
The similarity between Dungeon Meshi and Fullmetal Alchemist (manga) is wonderful to me. Both stories explore the giving and taking of life and the goals of our lives. 
At FMA’s conclusion, Ed sacrifices his ability to do alchemy; the reason the whole story started. It cost him and Al so much, but also helped them recover what they’d lost and literally save the world (are we starting to see the similarity?). Whenever I reread FMA, it’s sometimes hard watching Ed give up all his talent and everything he worked towards. What does he have without it? But for him, in that moment, it’s not such a difficult price to pay to get his brother back.
Maybe Laios is not aware of how much he would lose when he defeats the Winged Lion. But we do know he wants his friends and Falin to be saved, even if he dies. But that’s the thing! Both he and Falin are prepared to die to save their loved ones, but what about being prepared to LIVE to save their loved ones?
In our lives, we won’t often be sacrificing our lives for people, but we might be faced with a choice to give up things we love for people we love. Losing his life would be the easy way out (a great example of this is through Mithrun. It takes conscious effort to live. It seems so much simpler to die). Losing your dreams is hard, but that’s what it ended up costing for the safety of not just Laios’ friends but the world. He made that choice, now he must live with it. Even if he’s not fully happy at the end of the narrative, he still can be. You can be happy without having everything you desperately desire. That’s Dungeon Meshi.
Dungeon Meshi’s theme of neurodivergence fit into this really well. Personally, I think Laios is the perfect person to become King, possibly because he doesn’t think he should be. We know it’s not necessarily what he wants to do most. Heck, we know he doesn’t even like people that much and they don’t even seem to like him. But that’s what will make him the perfect candidate. Unlike others, he doesn’t have some high and mighty vision of becoming revolutionary at the end, nor does he have misconceptions about his abilities. He is genuinely righteous and humble, whilst having his flaws.
Laios knows what it’s like to feel different, outcasted by the world. But despite being awkward, strange, having weird interests and an inability to read social cues; people that once hated him ultimately end up having his back. There are bound to be others like him in his world (and ours), who don’t feel like they belong within humanity. People that would want a benevolent leader who genuinely cares and is enthused about things that don’t fit the norm because he doesn’t either.
It’s not his dream job but I believe he will eventually settle into it. We see this in the extra chapter where he willingly gives up his sword. That hit me hard. It felt a bit like a betrayal, like he was giving up who he was and everything he had worked for. But maybe it just shows that it’s okay that he couldn’t achieve all his desires. At least now Falin can achieve hers, and wasn’t that his fear for so long? That she would be lost and alone without him?
But now, because of Laios, Falin has the ability to choose her own path. She can choose make to leave as he once left her without the fear and guilt that Laois felt with his own departure. It shows both of them that it’s okay for them to take separate paths. They can grow and change and love each other from wherever they are. That protection, that survival and that connection between people is at the heart of Dungeon Meshi to me.
Both Laios and Falin choose to live. When Laios eats the Winged Lion’s appetite and Falin returns it’s down to their own decision. The choice to eat; the choice to experience life the way it was intended, with all its thorns. When they eat the monstrous parts of themselves they choose to be human, they choose the consequences of life, they choose to change and to go forwards. They are two sides of the same coin.
It seems only just that after all Laios has been through and after all we’ve seen him do, he should be allowed a perfect happy ending. But that’s just not Dungeon Meshi, is it?
There will always be sacrifices. Dungeon Meshi is not just about accepting life and death, but also accepting the possibility that you may not achieve everything you want, that things will not always go to plan but that you can always achieve other things despite this. 
Laios has made his choice to become King. Just like the choice to eat, it’s another part of life and of moving forward. Think of all the good he could do. I think he can be happy. That’s life.
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victoria-writes · 17 days
Text
I will never forget you.
Pairing: Legolas x Reader (gender neutral)
Summary: Legolas proposes to you and reassures you that he wants to be with you. Fluff & Angst with a happy ending + bonus ending
Word Count: 1605
Notes:
Reader is human
No gender or pronouns used to refer to the reader. Reader is briefly mentioned to have short hair
MENTIONS OF DEATH (reader's). Don't read if you're not ok with thinking about your own mortality xoxo
Read it on AO3 here
Story:
It has been months since you moved to Mirkwood with the prince following the disbandment of the fellowship and destruction of the one ring. Sometimes your mind would drift to what could’ve happened had the ring fallen into the wrong hands or if any other evil lies dormant, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. You could never sit with these thoughts for long, though. Legolas seemed to have a sixth sense for when you needed to see the good in the world again. Today was one of those days. 
“Come, there is something I wish to show you”, the elf smiled as he stretched his hand out, waiting for you to take it from your place sitting in a wooden chair inside the royal palace. 
“It better not be another elk giving birth in the woods. I’m still traumatized from your idea of ‘the beauty of nature’”, you grimace at the memory still not extending your hand.
“No, no, nothing like that. I promise”, he chuckles softly.
“Fine”.
Legolas had brought you to a clearing in the forest, surrounded by old-growth trees and wildflowers. White queen anne’s lace, forget-me-nots, and flowers whose names you did not know, who only seemed to grow near where elves trot, filled your eyes. This is not the first time he’s found a quiet spot in nature to take you, and it will surely not be the last. While overlooking the rainbow of colors seemingly dancing in the field in front of you, you sneak a glance at the elf from the corner of your eye. He stands confidently with his hands behind his back next to you and smiles. If it were anyone else looking at him, they’d think he was completely at ease. Anyone but you. The look in his eyes said “Do you like it? Do you? Please tell me you like it.”. He always wanted to impress you, whether it be shooting three arrows at once when one would suffice, wearing his nicest clothes (“Legolas why are you wearing your ceremonial attire?” “Don’t worry about it, father”.), or finding the best places to take you. Be still, your beating heart. For a nearly 3,000 year old elf, he acted like a lovesick teenager. 
“It’s absolutely beautiful”, you finally say after a long silence. Legolas releases tension in his shoulders he didn’t even realize he was holding. 
“I knew you would. Let us sit in the grass.”, he guided you so that he was sitting with your back against his chest, his legs on either side. 
You felt your tongue form teasing words about him taking you on a hike to a remote spot just for a cuddle, but they faded away as he wrapped his arms around your sides and began to plant soft, slow kisses on your neck and shoulder. You melted into his warm touch. 
“May I braid your hair?”
“Yes, but there’s not much to braid.”, you reply. You had recently gotten a haircut and felt as though Legolas may be disappointed. He was very enthusiastic about your new look the first time he saw it, but now you fear he may not enjoy it. 
“Nonsense, I shall make many small plaits instead”.
“Alright”, you relaxed into his hands as he began to weave strands of hair behind you. You closed your eyes, as you reveled in the feeling of the sunlight on your face as he worked. All was quiet aside from the occasional bird chirping or squirrel running up a tree. A warm feeling took hold in your chest and you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. You were safe. You were happy. You were in love. 
Millenia seemed to pass before Legolas announced he was done. True to his word, he had formed many braids in your hair. He may have gone a little overboard with just how many he made, but he just loved the feeling of being so close to you and never wanted it to end. 
“Thank you”, you whisper as your turn to face him, giving him a peck on the lips. You move your hand to feel the back of your head, itching to feel the braids your lover gifted you. Soft. Your fingers feel something soft. Something thin and soft. 
“Forget-me-not flowers”, Legolas clarified, seeing you trying to decipher with your fingers, “I thought them appropriate”.
“Why is that?” “They are gifted to one whose presence you enjoy, so as not to forget them, as the name implies. I could never forget you and I hope you would not forget me. Each past day with you is a beloved memory and each day to come cannot come soon enough. I treasure each moment with you. I feel myself drowning in my affection for you. No, peacefully swimming. I adore you. I cannot bear to be without you.”, he says softly as he holds both your hands and kisses each one, never breaking eye contact.
“Oh, Legolas”
“Meleth nîn”, he uses his hands to guide you both to your feet. As you look up into his bright blue eyes, he whispers “Please allow me to never be without you. Allow me to walk beside you for all the days we may share together before death takes us. I have lived millennia without you. Now that I know what life is like with you in it, I never want to go back. I want you with me, always.”
“Are you asking me-?”, you begin as he kneels down in front of you and pulls out a ring from his pocket.
“Y/N, will you marry me?”, he gazes at you with hope in his eyes as he lifts the ring towards you. 
“Yes. Yes. Yes!”, he quickly puts the ring on your left ring finger and you pull him into a harsh kiss. You and the elf wear matching smiles as you kiss long and hard. 
“I’m so happy, Legolas…but is this what you really want?”, your smile drops as your nerves hit you. “Of course, my love. Why do you question my intentions?”.
“It’s not your intentions that I question. It’s just that you’re…you”, you vaguely gesture at the elf.
“I’m not following.”
“You’re a prince. I’m poor. You’re an elf that’ll live thousands of years. I’m a human that’ll be lucky if I make it to 70.” “I don’t care about that.”
“Your father won’t approve.” “I care not what my father thinks. His opinion of our union will not sway me.” 
“Then what of my mortality? One day I will die and leave you alone.”
He sighs before he speaks, “I must admit I have thought long and hard on this subject. The thought of your death pains me to no end.” “Exactly. Our marriage would be short-lived in your long lifetime and I will become nothing but a memory to you, one that will fade one day.”
“What are you saying?” “I’m saying you love me now, but one day I will die and you’ll move on and I’ll mean nothing to you. One day you’ll laugh at how you ever loved a silly human”, tears began to well in your eyes, shame overtaking you as you finally let out the fears you’ve been harboring all this time. Your gaze drifts downwards, unable to face your elven lover. Legolas’ eyes widened in realization, shocked at your true feelings. He manages to compose himself and lifts your chin up with his index finger. 
“Meleth nîn, look at me. Y/N, please.”, he whispers his request. 
“It is true that my life will continue when yours ends.”
Hot tears began to run down your cheeks at this. 
“But”, he swipes the tears away with his thumb, “You will always be a part of it. Even when you are gone, I will love you. You have shown me love that I did not think was possible. When you are gone, I will visit your grave with flowers each day. I will braid my hair and miss the touch of yours. I will never remarry. I will walk the paths we have taken together. I will meditate in this very spot, remembering this moment. I will never forget you. In life and in death, we are connected. I love you”.
“And I love you”, you barely choke the words out through your tears. 
“Knowing all this, my silly human,”he teases before turning serious, “Will you marry me?” “Of course, I’ll marry you, you ridiculous elf”.
You both grin as Legolas lifts you up and spins you in his arms. When your feet are planted on the Earth again he kisses you deeply. As you feel your lips on your own, you imagine a thousand more kisses each day with him for the rest of your days. 
Bonus
Many moons have passed since your passing. Legolas meant every word of his promise and has done all that he said. Before he rests each night, he reads the book on his nightstand, your favorite book of poems. He recalls reading it to you on nights your eyes were too tired as he pet your hair while you laid on his chest. When he wakes each morning, he glares at the large empty space beside it, wishing it were you. Although his heart pangs at the loss of you, he finds joy and comfort in revisiting your old haunts, his favorite being the spot where he proposed to you. Today, our elf wanders into the cemetery. “Hello, meleth nîn”, he smiles as he places a bouquet of freshly picked forget-me-nots on your grave.
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