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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months

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Bonding

Arsenal Women x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Bonding night with the Arsenal girls

You're dressed in your special Auntie Stina Arsenal jersey as she assures your Morsa that everything is going to be okay.

Momma and Morsa have a special awards night thing that they have to make an appearance at so Auntie Stina is babysitting you. Your usual babysitters in Zećira and Jessie are busy tonight too so Auntie Stina gets to take you to Arsenal bonding night.

You're very excited and it's all you've been thinking about all week.

Momma and Morsa say goodbye to you and you instantly run up to Stina's car so she can get you clipped in and you can get to Captain Kim's house faster.

"Look who it is!"

Katie's waiting for you both by the door and she swings you up easily onto her hip and tugs at your jersey teasingly.

"A true gunner in the making! You'll play for us when you're older, right?"

You nod. "Yes!"

"Even if your mams want you to play for Chelsea?"

You pull a face, sticking out your tongue. "Not-Wolfsburg sucks!"

Katie laughs, delighted, as she gives you a high five. "That sounds right." She lets you climb down and scarper inside, toeing off your shoes in the entrance hall before following the sounds of music and talking further inside the house.

"Hi, Captain Kim!" You say when you see her," What's happenin'?"

Captain Kim laughs, her hand coming to rest of your shoulder as Jen wrestles with Beth on the floor.

"They're just being silly," She tells you," And trying to knock all of my things on the floor."

As if to prove the point, Beth crashes into a little side table with an ornamental vase wobbles precariously as she launches herself straight back at Jen.

"You should tell them off," You say," That's what my Morsa does when Erin and Guro are being silly in a dangerous way. She's the Captain like you're the Captain so you can tell them off if you want."

Kim laughs slightly. "That's a good idea. Captains do get to tell people off. Do you want to help me?"

"I'm not a captain though."

"But you are the big boss. I think that means you've got some captain powers too."

"Really?"

She nods. "Really."

"Okay!"

Captain Kim leads you over to where Beth and Jen are still wrestling. She whistles, shrill and high pitched and exactly the one Morsa uses when she needs to get Erin and Guro's attention.

"Stop wrestling in my house!" She orders before lightly nudging you.

"Yeah!" You say," 'Cause you're going to break something and then Captain Kim is going to make you do laps!"

From behind you, Katie chuckles.

"Yeah, you two!" She teases," Listen to Kim and the big boss!"

"Yeah!" You agree, stamping your foot so they know you're serious.

"Sorry, y/n," Jen laughs," We'll stop."

"Good," You say," Or else you'll have to run laps tomorrow."

You shriek as you're lifted into someone's arms. You're flipped upside down as Leah's hands attack your sides.

"Look at you!" She laughs as you shriek and try to wiggle away. "Little captain in the making!"

"My mummies are captains!" You say when she finally puts you the right way up.

"You've got it in your blood!" Leah proclaims, tickling your sides again," Me and Kim'll make you into a proper captain though! Arsenal style, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

You think Arsenal bonding night is a lot of fun.

Katie helps you make a pizza where you put your pepperoni slices in a crude rendition of the Arsenal badge and she takes lots of pictures of you winning at Twister.

You end up sat between Auntie Stina and Beth for dinner as Auntie Lina selects a movie for you all to watch while you eat.

"Beth?" You ask.

"Yeah?"

"Can we call Daan? I miss her at Arsenal."

Beth laughs, already digging out her phone. "I think quite a few fans would agree with you."

The phone rings a few times before Daan's face fills the screen. Daan is a very happy person, you think, because she's always smiling when she sees you. You smile too.

"Hey, y/n!" She says," What're you doing on Beth's phone?"

"Callin' you!" You answer," Auntie Stina brought me to bonding because my mummies are busy!"

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I beat Leah and Captain Kim at Twister! I got chocolate as a prize!"

Daan laughs. "Good! Keep them humble!"

You giggle too. "Is Lyon fun like Arsenal?" You ask.

"It's fun," Daan replies," But I'm still learning the language. I'm sure it'll be more fun when I can speak French properly."

You nod wisely. "That's like when I came from Germany. I only knew a little English so I had to learn so I could have fun."

"It's exactly like that," Daan says," Hey, who knows, maybe you'll have to learn French too when you're older."

You think about that for a moment. You know when you're older, you really want to play for Wolfsburg. Arsenal too and maybe Barcelona as well but you'd never really thought about Lyon. You already know German and English so having fun at Wolfsburg and Arsenal should be easy.

If you went to Barcelona then you would have to learn Spanish. If you went to Lyon then you would have to learn French.

Your Momma tells you that you're very good at languages. She says she's always impressed by how easily you pick it up. Sometimes, she calls you a little chameleon because you speak your English like you were born here rather than with an accent like she and Morsa do.

You don't think it'll be too difficult to learn French if you went to Lyon.

Daan stays on the call for a bit longer before promising to send you her Lyon jersey and you migrate from Beth and Auntie Stina to the floor with Leah and Katie.

You drag a blanket with you, tucking it around both of them like you do when you have sleepytime with Jessie and Niamh. The movie is still playing but you're a little tired so you lean heavily into Leah and kick you feet up into Katie's lap.

You yawn.

"You tired, kid?" Katie asks and you nod.

"Gonna finish the movie though."

Leah chuckles, the force of it rocking your whole body as she softly cards her fingers through your hair. "I'm sure you will."

You're out like a light before the second act begins.

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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writerquil · 7 months

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Hi, can I request a one-shot of Jax with a ballerina! reader? 👀, it can be romantic or platonic (she/her pronouns)

Jax x Ballerina Reader (FEM READER)

You'd tried your very hardest to avoid Jax ever since you'd first met him. And it wasn't just because of Ragatha's firm suggestions, it was also because the first time you'd interacted with him he'd smashed your porcelain arm and played it off as an accident.

Caine luckily could fix your arm with just a snap of his fingers but it offended you nevertheless and you'd made a point to stay away from him ever since.

Unfortunately for you, it just intrigued Jax further and egged him on.

He didn't directly approach you anymore and let you distance yourself but conducted mischievous pranks on you from afar instead.

It began with him laying a rat beneath your sheets, so when you uncovered it during night, it left you shrieking and hobbling away from your bed, drawing the attention of many other characters.

You slammed backwards onto the floor, holding out your fragile palms to steady yourself. Luckily nothing on your body had seemingly broke or cracked, but you barely acknowledged it as you jerked your head around the room in an attempt to watch the rat flee.

To your annoyance, the rat had scampered away just as they all peeked in.

Jax, who had joined the gawking characters at the entrance, cocked his head and grinned directly at you, eyeing your fallen position on the floor.

"Wow, rather ungraceful for a ballerina." He quipped smugly.

You glared right back, connecting the dots immediately.

You attempted to explain to the others that he'd planted a rat in your quarters but as Ragatha searched your room alongside you, in search of the pest, she discovered nothing.

"Maybe you just imagined it?" Ragatha guessed.

"You don't believe Jax would do such a thing?" You sighed back, smoothening down your leotard and grimacing.

"Well... he definitely would." Ragatha admitted. "I'm just surprised he's done it to you of all people."

"Why wouldn't he do it to me?" You asked in annoyance, placing your hands on your hips. "He's a prick."

Ragatha shrugged, giving you a slight smile.

"He just hasn't really insulted you much, not even behind your back."

You frowned; but shook it off.

Insults weren't needed when you tormented people instead... as annoying as it was, that was probably Jax's logic.

All you could really do now was prepare yourself for the second prank.

But this one was different.

You strolled through the circus, eyeing the combustion and flurries of colours with wary eyes. It was always overly colourful but these walks tended to help you clear your head and escape from Caine's wretched adventures so you took them anyway.

But of course, all things must come to an end and you reached the edge of the tent pretty quickly. You were preparing to swing back around again when suddenly voices rang out distantly from behind a green block.

You frowned. Who else could possibly be these deep into the tent as you were?

"...Somebody has to tell Caine to stop using Gloinks..." Ragatha grumbled.

"Doubt he will, he loves them." Zooble deadpanned. "Do you think that the newcomer will get swept away by them like me someday? She's really breakable."

You pressed up against the block, resisting the urge to peek.

"Hmm... maybe you guys will go back down to the queens nest together then, killing two birds with one stone." Jax said pleasantly.

Zooble audibly scoffed.

"Whatever. You'd come down to save her anyway. Your stupid little soft spot for her is so obvious!"

Jax's snarky protests were drowned out by Ragatha's giggles and eventually their footsteps echoed away until their voices finally faded completely.

You tried not to feel too special but it was a little difficult to drop the possibility of Jax even caring slightly for you and as you walked back to your quarters, narrowly avoiding gloinks, you could barely suppress the urge to beam or smirk triumphantly.

As you nudged your quarters door open suddenly you heard metal clink from above you and you glanced up to see a can of yellow paint, tipping straight over you.

You tried to avoid it but you were practically a deer caught in headlights at this point and it washed over you, leaving you to spit out paint.

Footsteps breezed by you accompanied by cheerful whistling, no doubt Jax.

But this time, you didn't feel as angry as you were before.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc x reader #tadc jax #tadc #jax #the amazing digital circus jax #jax x reader

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eightstarr · 23 days

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visions — abby anderson.

summary: a love letter to trying (or the time when you met your favorite people in the world, an overly stressed med student and her overly adventurous one-year-old, in your apartment's hallway).

notes: constantly suffering from chronic baby fever so this is a present from me to you because i spend way too much time thinking about abby as a mom <3

do not support zionist neil druckmann or any future tlou realeases.

a daily click to help palestine.

donation links, educational resources and ways to be useful.

୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧

You’re stepping out of the elevator when you suddenly hear it— a series of light thumps on the floor, fast but determined like a tiny little elephant who really has somewhere to be right now. Another step and then you stop clumsily when a flash of golden hair comes rushing past you. You follow the sight with your eyes, tilting your head. A little girl is walking, no, stomping through the hallway. She’s no older than two years old, her thin shining hair in two short braids, blue jean overalls and red socks on her feet. She moves so confidently that you almost don’t think about it, almost have the instinct to look away as if to not accidentally appear nosy, but her tiny stature and wobbly sense of direction keep your attention.

You look around the hallway, expecting surely the sound of the little girl’s parent calling her name (something sweet and pretty and classic, you imagine; it’d suit her). You picture her name being followed by a tired sigh before her patents rush to catch up, maybe rolling their eyes in a way that pretends to be annoyed but unmistakingly holds a million times more affection. A perfect family, a tiny glimpse of a full life somehow existing right in your unimportant building.

The hallway is long and terribly empty. You look back at the little girl who is striding forward in less of a rush now, with no worries, like this is the same route she’s taken for years.

What are you supposed to say to get a kid’s attention when you don’t know their name? What’s something concise, yet nice, yet simple enough to be understood? Babysitting as a teen has prepared you for a lot, just maybe not all of it. It's been a little too long. You linger on it for just a second before spitting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Hi, princess,” It’s a little awkward, but you’re relieved when she immediately stops and spins around, like something about it sounded familiar— could be your sweet tone or the nickname, you’re not sure. The little girl tilts her head to the side, round cheek lightly squished against her shoulder. It's the cutest thing you’ve ever seen and it makes you giggle like a charmed kid. “Where did you come from?” you ask, but before you have the chance to reach her she pouts her lips, as if just now realizing that you’re not who she thought you were. And then she turns her back, like there's no time to waste, to return to her journey with renewed enthusiasm.

In a scarily fast moment, you realize that she’s going for the stairs. It would maybe be a slightly less terrifying idea if that stupid door actually worked— but it doesn't, it broke sometime last May and now it's awfully easy to open, no strength or shove required. Sometimes, if it's windy and quiet enough, you can faintly hear it swing back and forth from your apartment. The little girl reaches a hand out, not intimidated by the tall door more than three times her height. If you weren’t this terrified, you’d find it amazingly admirable.

You don’t register you’re running until you reach her, don’t register the sound of fast steps behind you or the scream of Rue! or anything else other than the heavy relief on your chest when you lift the baby by her armpits and hold her over your hip against your side. She’s fussing in your arms immediately, upset that she’s being interrupted, especially by a stranger. “I know, I’m sorry, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay,” you coo, though trying to be soothing when your heart is beating this fast is admittedly not the easiest task.

“Rue!” Someone repeats, and this time you do hear it. A woman is running down the hallway, hand coming down to mindlessly drop a tote bag bursting with groceries on the floor by the time she’s in front of you. The little girl reaches out her arms immediately, tiny fists opening and closing furiously and you sigh with relief as you carefully pass her over to the arms of the tall stranger. Her hair is blonde but darker than Rue’s, held back in a braid that looks both pretty and messy, like it was once pristine and then slept on. She’s wearing jeans and a half unbuttoned white shirt, a black tank top underneath. Her chest rises and falls and you notice that yours is no different. Adrenaline is a strange bond to share with a stranger, but it does make things less awkward, knowing you’re both here, feeling the same thing. You meet her expertly focused eyes for just a second before she turns to look at the little girl, searching for anything that could be wrong. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. You’re okay, right? You’re okay,” the baby flashes a precious, wobbly smile at the sound of her voice, but she’s quickly distracted by the endlessly fascinating rainbow of groceries that lie on the floor. Her tiny head peeks over her mom’s shoulder to observe and it’s like you both can take a more soothing breath now, knowing she’s okay. “Thank you so much,” Abby says. You blink a couple times before you realize that she’s talking to you. “Sorry, I really don’t know how that happened. We were— we just got home from the store and I hadn't even put down all the bags yet and I thought— I was convinced that I shut the door, but…” her rambling drifts off and the stranger takes another breath, reddish embarrassment crawling up her neck.

You understand, suddenly, that she’s not only struggling with the stress of losing and finding her baby, but also the shame of having to face a stranger who might judge her for it. It feels insane to you, to think that she would be forced to prioritize that right now. “Oh, no, it’s okay!” you rush to respond. “I saw her immediately, and you were here in seconds! She wouldn't have gotten any further than that,” your smile is soft, but you speak with enough confidence to be reassuring (babysitting lessons, perhaps), “It was just a scare— don’t be too hard on yourself, please.”

Abby looks disarmed by your answer, her eyebrows raised in surprise. A short moment passes before she nods and smiles back, a small gesture without any less warmth. It’s the most relaxed you’ve seen her so far and it suits her beautifully, enough to make your face feel warm. Her blushing is much less forgiving though, more physically evident on her skin, spread over her cheekbones and the bridge of her pretty nose.

Rue giggles and it distracts you both, her hand waving excitedly at the colorful bird printed on a box of cereal as soon as she spots him. Abby looks at you for a second too long before she clears her throat, joking, “Sorry, she really loves that guy.”

You hum. “He is pretty cool, to be fair.”

Abby tilts her head, copying your sincere tone. “I don’t know, I always thought he’d be kind of a dick in person. He just looks like the type.”

Your startled laugh makes her smirk but she's frustratingly good at hiding it, free hand covering her mouth casually enough that you don’t notice. You look at the grabbing motion of the baby’s hands and pout with sympathy. “She loves him, though. We should probably get him off the floor.”

“Yeah, I should get that— I guess I just ran out with the bag, huh?” Abby huffs. She looks and sounds, physically, a lot less anxious now, less ashamed and more annoyed at herself.

“Would you like some help?”

“That’s okay, I got it,” she’s not sure that she does but she says it anyway, instinctively. Abby tries to lean down and Rue clutches her shirt, pulling enough to communicate that she is not ready to be put down yet. Abby straightens her back quickly enough to communicate that she is not ready to risk getting her any more upset for today. She meets your eyes for just a second. “Well, maybe some help.”

“Sure, just some,” you chuckle. “I’ll get it, don’t worry about it.”

People say that to Abby a lot— don’t worry about it! She hears it from her colleagues when she inevitably asks for the notes from the last class she ran a little late to, from a few of her kinder professors when she’s a day past some assignment’s deadline, from the guy at the grocery store that picks up the packets of M&M bags from the floor when Rue’s curious hands knock them over, from her dad when she asks if he’d be okay with babysitting for just a tiny bit longer. It always makes her stomach turn with guilt, some cases more intense than others, her lips usually pursed as she turns around and takes a breath. This time when you say it, she finds the guilt passing through her with ease, a short visit that makes her shoulders tense before it gets replaced by something else. She believes you, for some reason. Her brain is quiet except for thinking, for once, that there could really be nothing to worry about.

Your hands move casually as you pick everything up, resting on your knees like it’s not uncomfortable, like they might as well be your groceries. The idea is startling. Abby thinks, suddenly, that if someone were to walk into this scene, they wouldn’t read you as a kind stranger. Your ease would hint to something else, a friend, a lover, a picture of a family. Abby finds herself looking at your hands again, brought back to reality only by the slight tug of her hair. Rue plays with her braid distractedly, mumbling to herself about her froot loops friend— except she hasn’t quite learned to pronounce it yet, so it sounds more like oot oops.

Abby chuckles, brushing some of her loose baby hair behind her ears, mumbling back answers to her gibberish to keep her entertained even if Rue doesn’t seem to need it. She’s always endlessly thrilled to just be outside, perhaps the one trait she got from her grandpa rather than her mom. Other than her light snoring.

“She loves you a lot,” you comment, rising from your knees with the bag hanging on your shoulder. You don’t ask and Abby doesn’t think about it— you just start walking back to her apartment together. “Don’t you, Ru-Ru?” the baby giggles, her head turning to you, blue eyes sparkling. You laugh, “Oh, you like that name. It suits you, Ru-Ru.”

“That’s what my dad calls her,” Abby explains.

“He sounds like a man with taste,” you say. “What do you call her?”

“Princess.”

Your smile is wide and pleased. “That suits her even more, I fear.”

“I think so, too,” Abby agrees, a proud little glimmer in her eyes. She stops in front of her door, B06 engraved in silver. Is it always such a short walk from the elevator? She’s seriously thinking about it until, after realizing in an embarrassing second that she never introduced herself to the person kind enough to chase after her baby, help pick up her groceries and carry them home, Abby suddenly turns to you with widened blue eyes and pretty, reddened cheeks. You forgive her before she even says anything, and forget your traitorous reason before it gets a chance to warn you about how dangerous that thought is. “God, sorry, I never told you my name. I’m—”

“Abby, right?” you smile softly at her surprised face, chuckling before you explain, “One of our neighbors is an old friend of mine and she kinda threw this welcome party for me when I moved in. I promise we weren’t gossiping, but I think someone mentioned you.”

“Oh,” Abby nods casually, brushing it off as if she won’t be spending all night thinking about what your first impression of her might’ve been like. Rue fusses in her arms, a little grunt as she kicks her legs to be put down. “Sorry— I‘ll be right back,” Abby shares a quick look with you and you wave goodbye, not surprised to be missing Rue as soon as she turns around. You watch them walk inside together, a tiny hand waving back at you and making you smile as she excitedly makes her way to her playpen, shrieking bye-bye! Abby places a kiss on top of Rue’s blonde hair and makes her laugh with some noise that you don’t quite catch. She’s comfortable here, walking amongst colorful toys and biology books. She moves like an expert, pulling down her shirt where it rode up somewhere along the way. You make half an effort not to stare, but it’s half more than the effort Abby makes to not let it get to her head. The most confident she’s felt so far, she asks you, “Did that totally innocent welcome party of yours happen, like, two weeks ago? I think I heard some music.”

“It was extremely innocent,” you insist, eyebrows raised teasingly, “And no, sorry, not sure what that was— I moved here like a year ago.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You grace her (or yourself) with a second of silence before you laugh at her awkward expression, the way she brushes a hand over her flushed face and huffs. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing. I’m kinda terrible at keeping up with this type of, uh, social stuff.”

“It’s not embarrassing, I promise. It’s a big world,” you reassure her. “Even bigger when you’re doing a million other stuff.”

You tell her your name and Abby, who is young like you but also highly knowledgeable on little specific human interaction cheat-codes that come with being a mom, nods her head and makes her eyes light up with what seems, to the naive eye, like recognition. “Oh, that’s right!”

You stare for a second before squinting your eyes. “Are you lying to me, Abby from B06?”

Abby grins, wondering when was the last time she found being caught this funny. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve never heard that name in my life.”

You laugh the loudest you have so far and a daydreamed life flashes in Abby’s head— in that big, dramatic way that it does only when you’ve been watching too many rom-coms every night, or when you’re getting too much dating advice from your friend who’s been married since eighteen, or maybe when you fall in love with a pretty stranger who seems to be able to read your mind. It’s an idealized vision of an idealized world, and Abby finds herself being completely okay to clutch it in her fists to keep, because it’s fucking lovely.

“Well, I forgive you,” you tell her, unaware (maybe?) of the chaos that you’ve induced inside of her. “You’re a busy girl.”

Abby tries to think of a good, smooth way to tell you that she could see herself saying your name everyday, placed adoringly after good morning and I miss you. All she comes up with is, “I got enough time to learn it.”

—

You play with the hem of your shirt, pajamas made of mostly Abby’s clothes every night, a scent on them that’s not yours but it might as well be. It’s yours in all the ways that matter, in the same sense that she is. Abby walks out of the bathroom wearing her usual pajamas— a shirt that fits too loose and boxers that are a little too tight around her thighs. She doesn't seem to mind them, and you don’t seem to wanna complain. She knows by the way you look at her. You’re leaning back on your palms, your head tilted, the same shyness and sparkly adoration in your eyes that you’d get when you didn't know each other all that well. It’s not too often that she sees that nervousness anymore, but she still gets glimpses of it, a blink of something on your face or your tone or your breathing that says I have a crush on you and I’m hoping you can’t tell. She likes that nervousness the best right now, the way it’s timid and then settles into something like cockiness when you remember that she’s looking at you just the same, when you remember how much you like the way she copies the tilt of your head and teases you as if she's not also smiling like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

Abby loves every moment like this, loves getting home and helping prepare dinner and making Rue laugh before kissing her goodnight, loves doing the dishes with you and flirting and talking about the day. Today, she’s especially looking forward to the latter.

“So, how was it?” she asks, the back of her thighs resting against the dresser. She’s trying to play it cool and she's annoyingly good at it, even now.

“Hm?” you hum, leaning further back to rest on your elbows, your back almost fully touching the bed. Abby feels a little bad keeping you up, but she knows she’ll be tossing and turning all night if she has to wait until the morning to ask.

“The school meeting.”

“Oh,” you smile wide enough to look silly and beautiful, sweet enough to rot teeth. She feels like she could sink in it, your smile and the relief it brings to her well hidden nervousness. “I loved it so much, Abs.”

Abby is smooth when she walks closer, soft when she cups your cheek, but there's something anxious in her eyes if you know where to look. “Yeah?” she insists.

You nod your head and kiss the palm of her hand, your lips pressed together in that funny way of trying to hold back an excited giggle. Abby smiles and feels nostalgic for the time, many many months ago, when she’d bring a finger to her lips to shush you and then remind you in an expert whisper that Rue is sleeping in the other room. She doesn't have to teach you much at all anymore, and every moment that proves that to her feels like the most beautiful, unfamiliar peace.

“I’m so happy,” you announce, looking up at her. You’re tired enough that it feels almost like being drunk, which is maybe why a short giggle manages to escape. Abby finds it contagious, your joy moves through her as naturally and importantly as the pumping of her blood. “I’m so excited for all of it.”

It’s the second parents' meeting that you’ve attended at Rue’s school— but you spent that first one sitting quietly by her side, practically hiding behind her, too aware of yourself and of the fact that you don’t really know what you’re doing. “Nobody knows,” Abby confessed on your way home, a hand on the steering wheel and another over your leg, her fingers tapping a comforting rhythm. “Parenting is beautiful, it just comes a lot less naturally than you’d think. That thing about a biological, primal wisdom or whatever— it’s a nice concept. But the best things I know came from me actively trying.”

Her words echoed in your head when you said yes to attending this school meeting alone, when you smiled and made the effort to look as calm as you could, kissed her cheek and said “of course!”. Being Rue’s parent doesn’t always come naturally, but it comes from the most genuine love, every single time. Of course you can go to her meeting when Abby can’t reschedule work, because of course you want to know about how Rue is doing in school. It’s an honor to be there for her, to speak for her when you know she needs you to. This is you actively trying.

“How were the other parents?” Abby asks, lying on her side now, her finger tracing unreadable patterns on your cheek. She craves physical contact more than she’d like to admit— but it works great, because you never ask her to admit it if she doesn't want to. The pads of her fingers say enough.

“They were cool, they were all very sweet to me. Well, Leo’s mom is a little passive aggressive but she’s that way with everyone,” you comment through a yawn, the side of your face comfortably pressed against your pillow. Abby hums, agreeing. “Sophie’s mom was the nicest, she sat next to me and invited me to join her and Jade’s mom for brunch.”

“Which Sophie?”

“The one that gave Rue a Valentine’s gift, that milk chocolate that she loves.”

“Oh, I like that Sophie.”

“Me too. I think I wouldn't mind joining a weekly brunch cult with her mom.”

Abby laughs in the way that she only does when she’s sleepy, where she sounds almost like her teenage self, shy and sweet. By the time it dies down, you’re almost asleep. But then, softly enough that you almost don’t hear it, she asks, “How do you think you would feel if she called you that?”

You make a questioning little sound that sounds like "what?" but not quite.

“If Rue called you mom.”

Your eyes open in a second, though not without effort. You look at Abby’s face, her pretty, relaxed features, and answer honestly. “I would probably cry. And then kiss her cheeks for as long as she let me.”

Abby chuckles. “Like when she fell off the swing and got the tiniest scratch on her knee?”

“Yeah, just— the joyful version of that, I guess. They would be the happiest tears ever spilled,” you explain, so sincere that Abby almost tells you. And you know her enough to read it on her face, the way she barely parted her lips and then pressed them back together quickly. Your head lifts from the pillow. “Wait, why? She told you something? Did she ask about that?”

Abby is great at keeping it cool, but less so once she’s been caught. Her nervous chuckle says it all. “I…”

“Abby, I swear to god, I will not let you sleep until you tell me.”

She more than believes you, but a flash memory of her pinky finger wrapped around Rue’s holds her back from spilling any more details. “Sorry, baby, I’m not allowed to say.”

“Oh my god,” you drop back onto your pillow, this time lying flat on your back. “You think she’s gonna say it?” you ask, and Abby is unsure if you’re asking her or the ceiling or a godly presence way above it. Or yourself, most likely. “It’s okay if she doesn't, maybe she was just curious. Maybe she needs time. I mean, obviously. She probably won’t say it, like, tomorrow, right?” you turn your head and look at her, so wrapped up in your inner monologue that you don’t process the amusement and adoration that’s all over your girlfriend’s face. “What if I react super weird and she doesn't say it again?”

Abby’s lips stretch into the softest smile, so in love that she almost forgets to answer and instead holds her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you close to press a kiss against your forehead. Your eyebrows are still furrowed worriedly when she pulls away, and she brushes her thumb over your cheek as she lets out the kindest hum, acknowledging your question. “You’re not gonna react weird, sweetheart.”

Momentarily flustered, you shake your head to remember the point that you’d been thinking about. “But I shouldn't cry, imagine how confusing that would be for her— what if she thinks she made me upset?”

“That won’t happen. She cried happy tears when you moved in, remember? She knows what they are,” she says. It’s one of the best memories you have, the nervous look on Abby’s face when she asked you, rambling, “It would be a big change, but not the worst, right? You’d just be a couple doors down the hall. It would be a lot of the same in a lot of ways, just with us.”

After that came the late nights at your apartment, dates hidden behind the excuse of packing, half empty boxes on the floor and Abby stuck to you like glue, a kiss or ten whenever she got too carried away with excitement. A couple weeks later came your clothes in her closet, your favorite blanket on the couch, and Rue’s eyes glimmering with happy tears as she hid her face on your neck and tried to understand her feelings. Then, after a few minutes of patiently rubbing her back, came her little frown of concentration and the way she attentively listened to you and Abby explain that her reaction was normal, that sometimes happiness feels like too much to hold in just a laugh or a dance. “Oh, okay,” she’d said, in this cute proud tone that she gets whenever she learns something new that makes sense to her. It was the sweetest thing. She’s the sweetest thing— and you can’t believe this is your life, that you get to take care of her and hang out and teach her new things to be proud of.

“You think she wants me to be her mom?”

Abby smiles. “You are her mom, baby.”

Rue doesn't say it the next day. You don’t overthink it— couldn't if you tried. It's a nice feeling to be so happy that you don't feel the need to think. She doesn't call you mom that morning, but she runs to the doorway where you’re putting on your shoes to get to work and wraps her arms so tight around your legs that you have to balance yourself with a hand against the wall. Her hair is messy from sleep, her yellow pajama shirt wrinkled, her eyes blinking lazily as she looks up at you and asks, “Back soon?”

“Soon as I can, princess,” you promise, leaning down to kiss her head. What is there to overthink? What more could you possibly need?

You can do this forever, have mornings like this and feel grateful in a way that you didn't know existed until now. You love the way it comes at random times, the way you’re still you, still grumpy when your coffee tastes watery, still a little bad at getting to the train station on time, still learning not to burn the first batch of pancakes. It’s a big change, but not the worst, right? It’s a lot of the same in a lot of ways, except Abby is there at the kitchen kissing your cheek, and a tiny head of blonde hair is peeking from the back of the couch, gummy smile and freckled cheeks, saying, “I like my pancakes like that, mom!”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #abby x reader #abby anderson x female!reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson headcanons #mom!abby #doctor!abby

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

Note

For your requests my babes, how about Norstappen or Carlando who ever you're feeling going on vacation and you surprise them with some lingerie 🙈🤭

Nat ily

Norstappen bc I got another carlando request// hcs bc I'm lazy

Short n goofy

Vacation lando was always on the go

Vacation max loved to relax

They found compromise

Some days they'd adventure with Lando

Some days they relaxed with max

Some days they did their own things

But at night they always came together

Dinner before crawling onto the sheets and... making the most of the maid service

Before the holiday she'd actually gone shopping

She had smuggled the surprise lingerie in the inside pocket of her suitcase

She couldn’t wait to put it on for her boys

She put it on beneath her dress before they went out for dinner

Excitement bubbled inside of her as the food was brought to them

She couldn't wait for it to be over

As soon as dinner was over, she rushed them back to the hotel room

"What's up with you?" Lando asked with his signature cheeky grin

But she couldn’t answer him

Not until she had him and max sat on the bed

When their attention was on her, she let her dress fall from her shoulders, revealing the red, lacy lingerie beneath

Lando was looking at her, hungry

Max... had his nose turned up at her

"Red? Seriously?" He asked as Lando reached towards her

"So, what, you're a ferrari fan now?"

But she knew he wasn't being serious

He wore that adorable little grin that scrunched up his face

"Maybe you should take it off then, Maxy," she teased, swinging her hips as she walked towards them

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wynnyfryd · 7 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 15

part 1 | part 14 | ao3

“Please please please please pleeeeease,” Dustin whines, tugging hard on the hem of Steve’s shirt.

“Dude get off me.” He slips the last of the leftover containers into the fridge, slams the door shut, and turns to glare at Dustin, who oh-so-conveniently had to step out after dinner to ‘walkie Lucas about a homework question’ and left Steve and Eddie to do the washing up.

In the absence of a Henderson buffer, the air between them had pretty immediately gone stale. Hesistant and charged, overly formal; fucking weird. Eddie moves like a weirdo, sways his hips out of the way of counter corners instead of walking a straight path, like some swaggering drunken pirate, and he spent the last ten minutes awkwardly traipsing around the perimeters of the kitchen as if Steve were a landmine he might set off at any time.

So yeah.

Steve’s feeling a little ungracious at the moment. “Seriously, what is so important that you can’t just show it to us tomorrow?”

“Ummm, scientific discovery? Wonder at the natural world around us?? Where’s your sense of adventure, Steve?”

“The last time I followed my sense of adventure out to your cellar I almost got—” His eyes cut sharply to Eddie, who’s doing a terrible job of pretending not to eavesdrop. Steve scrambles for a way to end his sentence that isn’t eaten by a creature with a razor flower for a face. “—uh, mauled.”

“Mauled?” Eddie asks, eyes bugging out. “Henderson, I’m not following you into the woods to get to turned into some feral thing’s chew toy, man.”

“It was fine,” Dustin insists, covertly kicking Steve in the shin.

Steve thinks of his NDAs and plays along. “Y-yeah. Totally fine. It was just, like, a rabid raccoon or something.”

“That… does not sound fine.”

“It’s cool,” Steve tries to reassure him (no idea why, really; that cellar’s nightmare fuel.) He throws a dish towel over his shoulder, nods his head decisively. “I’ll bring my nail bat with us.”

“You’ll fucking bring your what?”

—

Steve drags his nail bat through the leaves on the narrow trail, the wood thudding along behind him as they make their way to the cellar, a detached storm shelter at the far edge of the lot. It’s dark out here. And cold. His breath hangs in a puff of wet fog when he mutters, “Seriously, Dustin, this better be Noble Prize worthy stuff.”

“It’s Nobel,” Eddie says.

“Huh?”

“The, uh- the prize? It’s No-bel.”

“….Well, that’s stupid.”

“Why would it be Noble?” Eddie snorts, but his eyes are curious and kind.

“Because— because you have to be Noble to earn it? I don’t know!” Eddie laughs like he finds the answer cute. Steve doubles down. “That makes perfect sense, and you know it. A Noble Prize for a Noble Effort. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Dustin grunts as he unlocks the cellar doors. “Now come on.”

—

The cellar's just as creepy as Steve remembers: low ceiling, dusty cement blocks, a single, sad lightbulb dangling on a string. He eyes the dark corner on the far side of the squat room, bricked up now but it wasn't before; there were tunnels under here, once, vast networks like blood vessels to the beating heart of a monster Steve still can't fully comprehend. He grips the bat a little tighter.

"—Shit," Dustin says suddenly, cutting himself off mid-ramble about how cool his latest science project is, how it puts Cerebro to shame. "I forgot the remote." "You want me to go get it?" Steve offers. "No!" Dustin says it in a rush, then stammers, "No, that's okay. You won't know what to look for." He seems nervous. Jittery. Maybe the cellar creeps him out, too. "Be right back, just wait here."

"Grreeeat," Eddie replies as Dustin jogs back up the stairs, cupping his hands around his mouth to call sarcastically after him, "We'll just be loitering in your murder basement, then; take your time!"

With Dustin gone, there’s nothing to do but stand there metaphorically twiddling their thumbs. Steve’s idly swinging his bat in a wide sweep around his calves, and Eddie’s staring at the ground, scuffing the toe of his shoe into a streak of dirt, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed. He’s humming something that Steve can't quite make out, but it doesn't sound like the stuff he usually blasts from his van. It's softer. Easy. Almost pop.

“Hey, wait a sec...” Steve holds up a finger, turning his good ear toward the stairs. The leafy crunch of footsteps isn’t getting any quieter, and now it sounds like there are two pairs, getting louder; circling back. “You hear that?”

Eddie nods. Looks serious and spooked. Steve raises his bat, a sudden spike of fear; he creeps over to the stairs. “Hey,” he calls to the darkness. The rustling noise picks up, a swish of movement through the brush, and then the crrrrroak of something metal. Something heavy, groaning on its—

Hinges. Hinges. Son of a bitch, the cellar doors. “Hey!” he shouts, breaking into a run. “HEY—!”

BOOMMMM.

The doors slam shut with a heavy crash and the grating clink of more metal scraping metal. Steve bolts up the stairs, shoves with all his strength against the slanted doors above him. The doors don’t budge. “What the fuck?” Eddie shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

Steve pounds against the doors. “HENDERSON?”

Eddie comes up to join him, using his forearms like battering rams to try to bash the doors open. His voice cracks when he hollers, “Henderson, for real, man! I-if this is some kinda- some kinda sick fucking joke it isn’t funny!!”

“It’s for your own good!!” a voice that isn’t Dustin yells through the gap in the doors, and Eddie squawks, “MIKE?”

Mike?? MIKE?? Oh, that goddamned ungrateful, conniving little—

“We just wanted you two to talk to each other!” Mike says.

Dustin adds, “For real this time."

“Yeah, for real this time!”

Steve punches the doors, and Eddie bares his teeth like he can scorch a hole through the metal with the heat of his glare alone. “Wheeler, you are SO dead!!”

“So fucking dead!!!” Steve agrees.

---

part 16

tag list below the cut, comment if you want to be added tomorrow (or dm me if you want to be removed)

@acedorerryn @ahsokatanoss @annabanannabeth @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awolfstudio @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @burymestanding @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cr0w-culture @cuips-not-cute @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @fandomfix8 @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @heartsong18 @hellion-child @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @messrs-weasley @nburkhardt @noodle-shenaniganery @novelnovella @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #st fic #my writing #my fic

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sommerregenjuniluft · 20 days

Text

@jegulus-microfic april 27 - diplomacy - 1117 words

aka there’s a few unexpected babies in a shed and regulus is a master of persuasion

It starts with Harry.

He’s running around in the back garden as Regulus peeks outside to call him for dinner.

When Regulus calls him he comes bounding over the meadow, red cheeked and flushed and a little sweaty.

Regulus bends down to smack a kiss on his damp hair and presses a glass of water into his small hands.

Harry gulps half of it with vigor, breathing loudly and then puts it back down on the table with a thunk. “Uh- Paps.”

“Mhm?”

“Where’s Mochi?”

“Mochi?” Regulus hums, realizing he actually doesn’t know where their cat is, “I haven’t seen him in the house today.”

“Oh,” Harry makes, his brows drawing together.

Regulus’ chest tightens, “I’m sure he’ll be back by bedtime, pumpkin.”

The rest of the afternoon passes, the sun sets and Mochi still hasn’t shown.

Harry gets ready for bed worried but James makes up a bedtime story about adventure cats with supernatural powers and all’s well.

That is until it’s two days later and Mochi still hasn’t wound up yet.

Regulus gets actually concerned and quietly talks to James in bed at night about the possibility of Mochi having been hit by a car. James is optimistic though, gently stroking through his curls and kissing his forehead, reassuring Regulus that their cat will be back.

True to his fiancé’s word Mochi turns up just another day later. Safe and sound, no wounds or scratches and bonking his forehead against their legs like nothing was amiss.

Harry is ecstatic and Regulus sighs so heavy in relief he feels 10 pounds lighter—that is until Mochi keeps flitting back out into the garden, mewling loudly.

James and Harry go out into the yard to play on the trampoline, thinking their cat may just want some company out in the nice weather.

“I dunno, love,” James shakes his head, clambering down from the trampoline, “It sounds like something is bothering him. He keeps walking around, yelling at us.”

Regulus combs an errant strand of James’ hair back from his forehead, frowning slightly. He sighs, “It does seem like he wants something from us.”

Harry is still bouncing on the net, then he announces suddenly, “I think maybe he wants to show us something.”

James and Regulus exchange looks and then they help Harry put on his shoes again and start following behind a relentlessly meowing Mochi.

Their cat takes them out back towards the end line of their property to Monty’s old shed they don’t really use for anything.

Mochi squeezes right through a broken panel of wood inside, still meowing.

Regulus throws James a skeptical look but James just shrugs and rattles and yanks at the old door until it swings open.

That’s when Regulus hears it.

More meowing. Tiny, high mewling.

Baby kittens.

His eyes meet James in an instant as a small gasp elicits from Regulus’ throat, eyes widening in adoration and teeth digging in his lower lip, ridiculously excited.

James takes Harry up on his hip with a grin and nods Regulus to enter first.

With the help of the sunlight streaming in through the open door they find the little family in an instant.

The mom is a beautiful grey-ish tabby and there’s three little furballs attached to her stomach.

There’s one similar to Mochi with all black and white spots, another tiger striped one with an orangey undertone and then an entirely black one safe for one white spot around its ear that immediately has Regulus breaking out into coos.

Mochi runs around between Regulus’ legs all excited, screaming still, and he gently shushes their cat with head scratches. He bends down to say hello to the mom while James explains everything to Harry behind him.

It takes a few contemplative sniffs from mom before she takes a careful lick at Regulus’ finger. Mochi smells like them so Regulus is glad the mom realizes they’re family and not a threat.

Regulus beckons James and Harry over and pulls the latter between his spread knees, murmuring quietly, “These are Mochi’s babies, Harry, just like you are ours.”

Harry nods importantly, eyes fixated on the kittens.

“We have to introduce ourselves to the mom first though before we get to say Hello to the babies. Like this,” Regulus takes Harry’s hand in his and lets the female cat sniff him too.

Harry giggles when she licks him with her rough tongue and Regulus’ heart nearly bursts when she tilts her head into his little palm. James follows suit, stroking through Regulus’ curls with his other hand. It’s a marvelous moment shared between the three of them and Regulus desperately hopes that it’s going to stay a core memory in all their minds.

They run back to the house to get a pillowed basket and blankets for the mom and babies to transport back in. At the end of the day Regulus’ cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

Until James comes up behind him while brushing teeth, arms wrapped around his stomach and asks who they want to give two of the babies to.

Regulus thinks he must be clinically insane for the suggestion but he doesn’t say so just yet. He has to play his cards right here to get what he wants and what his little family clearly deserves despite whatever James may think for whatever obviously illogical reason.

So Regulus just shrugs and spits into the sink.

The next morning when Harry is already in kindergarden he grabs James on his way out to door to work.

He drapes himself all prettily against the door frame, purposly toying with the ring on James’ finger. “So,” he starts, “About the kittens.”

James already slips into a playfully skeptical expression, “What about them?”

Regulus clears his throat professionally, “After diplomatic discussions we found that there was no way for us not to keep them.”

“A-huh?”

Regulus huffs, “Yes.”

“Just between the two of you…” James prods, one brow raised.

“Yes.” Regulus’ expression is unwavering stone. He’s so standing his ground. Not budging. He’s a wall.

“All 3 of them?”

“They have names, to your information,” Regulus spits. Then adds in a more quiet voice, “Strawberry, Vanilla and Matcha.”

James only hums in return, but the corners of his lips are already curling with a badly concealed grin so Regulus knows they’ve as good as won.

“So,” he sucks his teeth, cocking his head and blinking up at his fiancé from under his lashes, “We’re gonna need a bigger car tree.”

James’ grin blooms full force and he rolls his eyes behind his glasses. Then he smacks Regulus’ ass so hard, Regulus makes a sound that sounds embarrassingly similar to the ones the kittens make.

#jegulus #hi im late with this >.< almost finished it then thought it was trash. finished it now and i like the ending so *shrugs*#enjoy<3 #jegulus microfic #james potter #regulus black #jegulus raising harry #starchaser #sunseeker #domestic jegulus #jegulus fluff #james potter x regulus black #regulus black x james potter #lune’s tiny fic

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tragedybunny · 7 months

Text

Bedroom Hymns - Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW - Breeding / Sex Pollen

This is technically the second part of my wedding fic Dance With Me Under the Diamonds, See Me Like Breath in the Cold. I separated it out as it is just porn with a small tie-in to the plot. There will be another part that continues the story that doesn't require reading this. Reader is based on an Archfey Warlock. Tried some new things here and I'm not sure if they worked but oh well.

Reader and Astarion are happily married and celebrate their wedding night. But there may be more occurring than they realize.

Your hand fumbles for the handle of the door behind you, a difficult task with Astarion kissing and nipping your exposed skin. The door finally relents and swings open, to your endless relief. Maybe it was all the wine, but you feel as though there’s a fire stoking inside you, your skin radiating heat, to go along with the growing aching need between your legs for your now husband. You answer the door’s creak with a whimper. “Aren’t you in quite the state, my Love?” Astarion teases you, whispering against your ear.

There’s a blank in your mind where a witty retort should be, answering instead with another hungry kiss, and gasping when your legs are swept out from under you. Astarion carries you over the threshold of your home, turning to kick the door shut. It slams loud enough for you to be grateful Scratch is with Shadowheart tonight. That’s the last thought you have to spare for anything that’s not him though.

There’s no questions asked as Astarion starts for the stairs of your house, just your breathing, heavy with anticipation. The world around you has a haze to it, like it’s shimmering with summer heat. The need has turned to a feeling of emptiness that is almost painful. Arms looped around his neck to hold yourself steady, you whine in frustration you haven’t reached your bedroom yet. “Gods I need you.”

His grip on you tightens and he growls in your ear, something wild in his voice you’ve never heard before, but it makes you want to spread your legs and beg for him. “Soon my Sweet.”

Just beyond the last stair is the cozy bedroom the two of you share when you’re not adventuring beyond the walls of Baldur’s Gate. Safe and secure, the shutters block any sunlight when locked down, protecting your beloved while he sleeps next to you. It seems you’ll be needing it before either of you get any sleep tonight. Astarion sets your feet on the ground just before the bed and you open your mouth to protest, but he hushes you by grabbing your waist firmly. “Patience, Love, let's get this dress off.” Skilled fingers set to work unlacing you out of the dress that seems more like a prison, you lean into that touch, craving him. A cool finger bushes along your skin and the inferno inside you rises, hips rock back, the curve of your ass pushing against him, feeling how he’s already half hard. An arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place. “Behave or I’ll cut it off you, your choice Darling,” his voice is low as he speaks the words against your ear and you shiver. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recall it was an expensive dress and you were fond of it. You focus on holding yourself still. “Good girl,” he coos at you and you can feel your small clothes becoming damp with your arousal.

By some miracle of some god somewhere, he manages to free you before you turn into a writhing mess. Frantically, the two of you work to rid you of your undergarments before turning to Astarion’s clothes, the sound of tearing fabric letting you know they don't survive his attentions. “Help me,” you all but beg, leaving searing kisses along his skin as you undo buttons and trouser laces. He obliges, aiding in removing the offending garments until he’s bare before you. The fire and wanting fade just enough for you to drink him in for a moment, and you feel a giddy smile come on that you can’t repress. So perfect, he’s yours and yours alone. “You’re so beautiful, my Love,” you breathe out, almost reverently, and pull him in for another kiss.

Again he lifts you in his arms, finally settling you onto the bed and kneeling between your open thighs. One finger drags languidly along your slit. “Look at you all soaked and swollen already, needy little thing.”

“P-please Astarion,” you thrust unthinkingly toward his hand, your own reaching out to stroke him, thumb swiping through the liquid beaded at his tip. A throaty moan is your reward.

“Oh my Love, just you wait.” He sits back, content to let you touch him. Aching and still desperate for relief, you continue, wanting nothing more than to please him. Soft groans escape him as he rocks his hips into touch before finally taking mercy on you.

Pushing your hands away, he grips your hips and you obey his wordless command, turning so that you're kneeling before him, elbows propping you up. “My gorgeous wife.” Lips trace their way from the base of your spine up to your shoulders, hands cup your breasts, kneading them, thumbs brushing over peaked nipples. With a whimper, you grind yourself against him, the barest teasing touch of his cock driving you mad. “You want to be fucked so badly, don’t you. But you want more than that, you want to be filled, to be bred, like a good little wife.” He’s so close to you, words speaking of desires unknown until this moment, but it’s there in you, the yearning for what he promises. Desperately, you writhe against him and he pushes your hips away. “Say it.” One hand grips your chin, thumb worrying your bottom lip.

“I want to be filled with you,” his thumb slips between your lips and you suck at it gratefully, “bred by you.”

The press of him into you grants blissful relief to the emptiness, and you both still for a moment, bound as one. And then he moves, slow and deliberate, burying himself again and again. There are no words from you, just sounds of need, of pleading for more. “My Love, taking me so good.” His hand dips between your legs, finding your clit and tracing small circles over it as the rhythm of hips increases. A few more moments of those heady sensations and, with a keening sound, you clench around him, desperate for him to fulfill the promise of earlier.

He’s there right after you, one hand digging into your hip, pulling you tight against him, the other still playing with you. The feel of his seed pumping into you is almost enough to send you over the edge again. Gasping, ragged breaths are the only sound as you obediently remain how he positioned you, taking all of him, crying out when he pulls out of you.

The empty ache returns, but not for long. “Hmm,” fingers press inside you, spreading you.

“Love,” you plead, the need burning again at his touch.

“I don’t think I’m done with you yet, my desperate, sweet little thing.” His touch slips back around to your clit and you hiss at how sensitive it's become. The discomfort fades soon enough and you're lost in the euphoria of it.

His body covers yours, and teeth lightly nip into your shoulder and lap at the little drips of blood that escape. “Astarion.” You lose yourself again.

The world blurs around you, the only constants, his touch and your own ragged breath. There are no thoughts, only the drive to be taken again, like a wild creature in heat. Pliantly, you let him guide you to your back, where you stare up at him, enraptured. “Gods you’re incredible,” you whisper, “my husband.”

Leaning over you, he kisses your forehead gently. “Incredibly lucky.” Fingers brush your hair back and trace your cheeks, your lips, along your chin. “You’re the most amazing person in the whole world. And somehow you’re mine.” He ponders you for a moment, staring at you like you’re some holy thing, as though he’s engaged in an act of worship. Then his lips catch yours and you feel the length of his cock slide along you. Despite what you want, it’s painful as it presses against the exhausted bundle of nerves between your legs, leaving you whining. “One more for me, you can do that, can’t you?” His voice, sultry against your ear, is all the encouragement you need, and you nod. “Good girl.”

Legs wrap around his waist as enters you one more time. “I…ohhhh…hells,” divine torment, pain flowing into pleasure, desperation driving away exhaustion.

“Shhh, Darling, you’re doing so good,” he moves inside you, guiding you back to your precipice. Lips and teeth are everywhere all over you, fingers back to playing with you, you mewl and cry his name over and over until nothing makes sense. Your eyes are closed, all you know is the feeling of him, waves of rapture crash into one another and become one, and you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

Finally, with a jerk he stills and you feel at last gloriously sated, filled as promised. Collapsing next to you, he pulls you onto his chest and nuzzles your hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” your eyes flutter close, your body finally succumbing to exhaustion, the strange need fading away. And then you remember, the woman at the park, the bottle, a gift from summer. Fuck, who knows what your patron gifted you with, you should really tell Astarion when you wake up.

Tag list:

@micropoe10 @spacebarbarianweird @writingmysanity

@mxxny-lupin @azu21things @tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87

@fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

#astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #my fanfic #my wrting

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hanasnx · 2 months

Text

⋆˖⁺‧₊𓆩𓆩 ❝ stranded. ❞ 𓆪𓆪₊‧⁺˖⋆

-ˏˋ꒰ CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE - ! ꒱ PART ONE ✩ PART TWO ✩ PART THREE MINORS DNI 18+ SUMMARY: be a part of the story! vote on the poll at the bottom. WARNINGS: your vote affects how the story continues | the winning decision affects how the story ends | f!reader | eventual smut | semi-established relationship | romance | suggestive | eventual conflict.

! ── PREVIOUSLY: You and ANAKIN SKYWALKER are stranded on a seemingly deserted planet. He asks you how to proceed because he trusts your judgement.

You consider his question, rubbing your bottom lip thoughtfully with your finger. The responsibility he’s given you is not one you take lightly, and you phase through the options until you decide the smartest route. “Where’s your communicator?”

Anakin's lips press together as he nods. It’s uncharacteristically submissive of him to relinquish control like that, and part of you wonders if this is his way of calming your nerves caused by the situation. He retrieves the communicator in question from his sea of robes, and when his gloved hands brings it to both of your views, it sparks.

He flinches, protecting his eyes from the device if it sees fit to explode in his hand. Fingers fiddle nimbly with its buttons, and its silence doesn’t bode well for your plans. You approach him, watching the little mechanism sit idly in the palm of his hand. “Can you repair it?” you ask, peering up at him. He doesn’t look at you.

“We’ll have to find out.”

As he works on it, you lose track of time, but the sun does not forgive. It beats down on the two of you as you try to shade yourselves in the minuscule shadow of your totaled ship. He remains in his uniform, and beads of sweat fatly roll down his forehead. That concentrated crease in his brow makes him look older than he actually is, glaring down at the communicator as he pinches wiring together with his meticulous touch. You swallow, mouth dry, and you incline into his direction.

“Anakin, maybe you should shed some layers—“ you begin to suggest, laying a familiar hand on his arm. He tenses under your contact, and perks up at attention to hear someone call out.

“You two look a long way from home.” a gutty and baritone voice leers, and Anakin’s jaw sets. His lightsaber is hidden from view by his robings. “Did’yer ship take a tumble?” The joking tone goes unappreciated as the two of you raise your heads to see a native of the planet. Relief washes over you that you aren't alone, but Anakin does not seem convinced, wary this local is unfriendly. He's seated high up on an animal with flat feet and spindly legs, one you don't recognize at all. Its trunk is stout, and wiggles absently as it disinterestedly awaits its owner to decide on whether or not to pass on. The native wears thin clothes with a strap across his chest, the bag of water sloshing at his side as he swings to a halt against his hip.

"Engine failure." Anakin replies, vague and curt. It's a lie, and one you bite your tongue on correcting. Your eyes meander the large stranger, a flat bedded wagon with heaps of fabrics is hauled by his mount, but you know those veils are just to conceal whatever he's got underneath them. "Is there a town around here?"

The local leans forward on his saddle, propping himself up on the grip with an amused and removed grin. "Naw, not for miles." Out of the corner of your view, Anakin's hand slowly disappears under his robe. "Why don't you climb aboard? I'll take you in. S'long as I get what's left of yer ship."

Anakin glances to you, but ultimately decides he'll work on the communicator during the ride. His saber remains clipped to his belt, hidden. However, his senses aren't dulled. There's something about this stranger that tells him he can't get too comfortable, but this is progress. Regardless if there's a town at all. The two of you collect the emergency supplies from the vessel, and climb aboard the wagon. It sinks into the sand from the extra weight, but when he spurs his mount on, she doesn't have a problem in tugging it.

"Sorry I didn't introduce myself, the name's Drice. S'lucky I came through, followed the smoke trail of your ship. Can smell it on the two of you." You and Anakin exchange eye contact, silently agreeing he'll be talkative the entire trip. "Yep, this nose never lies." His finger raises to tap-tap the side of his nostril. "What were y'all headed for? Before, y'know, the 'engine failure.'" You furrow your brows at the way he quotes the statement, as if he's suspicious Anakin was dishonest. "I could'a taken a look at it if it didn't have such a rough landing. S'lucky I want the parts. I'm a mechanic by trade."

Anakin doesn't respond, instead fishes out the communicator to continue his inspection. Its guts spill out, and he carefully pools it onto his lap. "The Adega system." he replies, again another lie.

Drice emits a noise of confusion. "That's a long way to travel for a ship that size."

"That's likely why we crashed." Anakin responds, and you can hear in his voice that growing annoyance.

The reticence from the back of his vehicle unnerves the local, and he continues to try to muster up some conversation. "You two are real cute together, y'know. A real pair. How long have y'all been together?"

Anakin's gaze flickers to you.

@HANASNX 2024 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

okay i have an idea if you'd be willing - i think you wrote something similar but aemond and his wife are like super hungry and craving something after spending the night on top of each other but its very late now and they sneak into the kitchen and find a chocolate cake. and she's like overjoyed, very focused on eating the cake so she doesn’t even realize how aemond is getting harder again. Bc he's there, watching her, sitting on the table, eating the chocolate cake and he just *loves* the sight so much lmao

Oh hello! I didn't forget about this request, it's been on my mind for months now and I finally wrote a drabble to sate us no pun intended!

Enjoy some dessert with Aemond

Where Aemond is once again surprised by the hold his wife has on him.

Aemond x wife!reader | smut |18+ only

"I'm famished." You breathed heavily, still straddling Aemond as he looked up at you, his face flushed from exertion.

"I would've thought you sated by now my ember." There was suppressed laughter in his breathless voice.

You rocked your hips experimentally, smirking at the groan it elicited from your husband. "Not like that." You slid your hands behind his head, combing your fingers through the silken hair splayed out on the pillow. "I'm craving chocolate." With you chest now flush with his, you nibbled suggestively at Aemond's jaw, continuing your rolling movements.

"I'm almost offended." Aemond tangled his fingers in your hair, dragging your lips up to meet his in a sloppy kiss as he arched into you. "However I know my place." He kissed you softer this time. "Second to none save for chocolate."

You hummed in contented bliss before sliding off Aemond entirely in one fluid movement. Before he could properly react you snatched your dressing robe from the armchair, swinging it about your shoulders, and hastened out into the abandoned corridor. You could hear your husband cursing quietly from the bed chamber as you continued padding down the hallway along the familiar path to the kitchens.

Aemond followed as you descended the castle steps, making sure to avoid any nighttime guard patrols or other late-night adventurers. He joined you within the empty kitchen just as you finished pulling out the tray of leftover chocolate cakes from the pantry. You shot him a grin over your shoulder as he pressed himself behind you, his hands possessively grasping at your hips clad only in the thin velvet of your robe.

Aemond dragged his lips along the curve of your neck as you took a bite of the cake. "You truly have a wicked hold on me." He let out a small gasp as you pushed back against his groin. "That I would allow such reckless gallivanting about the keep."

You took another bite of the rich chocolate, a coating of icing glazing your lips. "I know. I'm the terrible influence in this marriage." You turned your head so he could capture your sweet lips in a searing kiss.

Aemond's tongue swiped the icing from your lips before delving into your mouth to taste you further. He groaned in disapproval as you pulled away to continue eating your dessert.

"Can you fetch me some milk, my love?" You asked him, gesturing to the ice box in the corner of the room.

Aemond's hands flexed on your hips as he rested his chin atop your head. "Hmm. Perhaps if you ask nicely."

"Please?" You smiled, enjoying the feeling of him so warm and so close.

Aemond sighed a little. "Very well. Only for you will a Targaryen play the milk maid."

"Oh there's an image!" You giggled around a mouthful of cake as he reluctantly removed his hands from your body. "Perhaps we should roleplay such in the bedchamber?"

You heard your husband growl something under his breath but paid him no real mind as you shuffled off your robe, allowing it to pool at your feet upon the cold tile floor before positioning yourself in a kneeling position atop the table's smooth wooden surface.

"You do realize if someone were to intrude upon such a scene I would kill them immediately." Aemond could not contain his arousal as his eye swept over your form kneeling on the table with your fingers in the chocolate cake, your eyes wide as you looked at his attempt at severity.

"I highly doubt anyone would bother us here, my dragon." You sucked your icing-covered finger into your mouth, making sure to not break eye contact. "Especially if we make it clear this room is occupied by those wishing not to be disturbed." You cupped your breast with a hand, leaving a trail of chocolate on your skin.

Aemond's eye followed the movement, his arousal already straining against the trousers he'd hastily thrown on. He moved to you as a cat stalks its prey, ducking to taste where your hand had left the sweet stain upon your chest.

Soon the platter of half-eaten cake was forgotten as Aemond climbed over you, his knees knocking yours apart with ease as you surrendered to his demanding touches.

"At last." He breathed before sucking marks onto the skin of your throat. "Now it's my turn for dessert."

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calypsocolada · 9 months

Text

BUILD UP | r. zoro

(part two of winner winner)

synopsis: somethings building between you and the stoic swordsman, roronoa zoro. author's note: hiiii, this is just a lil somethin somethin for fun :) cw: suggestive, not proofread forgive me wc: 3.3k

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Zoro sat at the wooden table alone, an ale in his hand as he watched you from across the table. His eyes never leaving any part of you. He watched you laugh, which was more often in the passing months. Watched you smile as Usopp embellished some stories about past adventures.

Zoro liked watching you, ever since you two kissed he found himself staring all the time. It was embarrassing really, how much one kiss changed the entirety of his actions towards you. But you… yeah you seemed as oblivious as ever. He was nervous all the time now, careful of what he said and did. You made him nervous and he found himself wanting to impress you. Zoro never really considered himself a romantic, in fact he knew he didn’t have much of a romantic bone in his body but he would try all that shit for you. He stayed near you during fights, offered you food that he couldn’t finish, cleaned your sword and always made sure there was a space next to him for you to sleep. You were always cold and Zoro used that as an excuse to sleep close to you most nights, he really really didn’t mind.

You reached for your glass and brought the rim to your lips, sipping as your eyes slid to Zoro’s, in the candle light you saw him blush when your eyes met his. You set your cup back down on the table and gave him a small smile before turning your attention back to Usopp. You were at some sort of town gathering, the crew and you had saved this village from some wannabe dictator and in your honor they threw a little celebration. There was drinks and food and dance and cheerfulness all around. Zoro wasn’t much for fun and dancing, he’d rather nurse his ale. But you on the other hand, you’d really grown out of your shell being with the strawhats and when a villager with kind eyes sidled up beside you you saw Zoro’s eyes sharpen. You turned as the man gave you a kind smile. Your hand flew to the knife on your hip but Sanji caught your hand, mouthing the word ‘relax’.

“Hi, I don’t want to trouble you but I was wondering if you’d like to dance?” He asked, the music near the middle of the village had started to pick up and swell towards the table you were sitting at. You eased up your hand. You didn’t know how to dance and dancing with someone you didn’t know seemed even worse.

“She would love to, right?” Sanji interjects, giving you a smile. You forced a smile back, nodding your head as he held out his hand. You took it and let him sweep you off towards the town square.

The village was full of life and love, all swinging in time with the music as they danced without a care in the world. It was infectious, a smile permanently plastered to your lips as the man swept you around and spun you dizzy. You giggled uncontrollably, fingers entwined with his, your hair dancing in the wind.

Zoro watched from afar, the drink in his hand held so tightly his knuckles were slowly turning white. He wasn’t much of a dancer but if you wanted to dance he’d do it. He’d do anything and everything for you. He felt sick with anger and jealousy as he watched some other man spin you around, the smile on your face as bright as the morning sun. Sanji noticed his sour mood and turned to look at where he was looking.

“You’re such an idiot.” Sanji mumbled into his glass as Zoro’s eyes cut to his. “Letting that girl dance with someone else.”

“Shut your damn mouth.” Zoro grumbled, taking a big gulp of his ale. Sanji laughed, pushing up from his chair.

“Think it’s my turn to cut in.” He says, walking over towards you. Zoro felt his stomach turn, his face beat red as he watched that sly cook sidle over to you. You’d gotten softer in the passing months and when he cut in you smiled kindly and waved to your last partner. Zoro watched for approximately thirty seconds. That was the last straw. He slammed his drink against the table startling some of the people around him and pushed out of his seat. He stomped over to you and when you spotted him you smiled huge. He melted, all the anger and jealousy he was feeling dissipated as he watched you say something to Sanji before slipping away from him and towards Zoro.

“Are you turning in for the night?” You asked as you two walked closer to each other. Zoro didn’t answer, just swept you into his arms and pulled you back into the throng of dancers. His right hand pressed gently into the small of your back, the other enveloped your hand in a warm grip. He grinned down at you as he twirled you around before dipping and snapping you back up, your faces mere inches from one anothers. “I thought you said you couldn't dance.” You smirked, slightly out of breath. Zoro’s hand around your back tightened as he pulled you closer to his warm body.

“I said I didn’t like to, not that I couldn’t.” Zoro corrects as the music swells before slowing. Couples form and press together as romance sweeps in. Zoro slowed and you followed his lead.

“Then why dance with me?” You ask as Zoro’s eyes slide down to yours.

“Is that a serious question, killer?” He asks and when you don’t object he snorts a soft laugh. “Because it’s you. That’s why.” Your breath hitches in your throat. Two months ago Zoro and you kissed by the fire. You thought about it every night since then but he hadn’t made a move on you since. You trained everyday together and things were tense but not in a bad way, in a way that made you want to grab him by the collar at every given moment. But you kept that all to yourself because these growing feelings in your chest burned a hole right through you. You knew nothing of romance, didn’t really even know what it meant to be with someone but god did you want to be with Zoro anyway you could have him. You tightened your hand in his, slowly dragging your eyes up to his.

“Were you jealous?” You asked. Zoro’s brow flicked up slightly as you followed his lead in the dance.

“Were you trying to make me jealous?” There was a sort of call and response thing happening with you two. Someone would notice you, maybe ask you to dance or ask you to dinner, moments later there’s Zoro, brash and brazen, staring away any possibilities. You didn’t mind it at all. He was the only one to catch your eyes.

“I don’t know,” You start with a cheeky smirk. “Did it work?” His cheeks pinken as he exhales a laugh, shaking his head.

“What am I going to do with you?” He sighs lovingly.

“Whatever you like.” You say and watch his ears burn. You weren’t aware of the undertones of that sentence. He leans into you, lips barely brushing your ear as he speaks.

“We could go back to the ship if you like?” He whispers, sending shivers down your spine.

“But I’m not tired yet.” You said, eliciting a warm laugh out of him.

“We wouldn’t be sleeping.”

“Are you really not enjoying the party?” You question, clearly missing something. “Because we can go back to the ship if you really want.” You offer as Zoro laughs even harder, shaking his head.

“Nevermind, killer.” He says as the band finishes off the song and the villagers applaud the performance. You watch Zoro clap, he was so hard to read sometimes, or maybe it was your fault. You just wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake a confession out of him.

“Roronoa-“ Drops of rain start to fall, slowly at first but then pick up. You look up into the sky, the drops hitting your warm skin as Zoro’s hand wraps around yours, pulling you towards shelter. He shoulders open a rickety old door leading into some kind of gazebo, rain beating against the tin roofing. It was soothing really. He kicked the door closed behind you two as you shivered from the cold walking deeper into the room. There were empty chairs in the corner and some tools and garden pots. It must’ve been a tool shed that you two ducked into. You grabbed a strange looking trinket, blowing the dust off of it to inspect it.

“Here,” Zoro’s voice said just behind you as he placed his jacket onto your shoulders, warmth soothing your shaking. You gave him a small smile, pulling your arms through the arm holes. “What's that?” He asks, walking closer to you, practically pressing himself against your back to peer over your shoulder. You turned the little charm over in your fingers, recognizing the woodwork. You laughed a little.

“It’s a figurine from an island near Orange Town. My father used to steal them from the shopkeeper.” You say, placing the figurine back down where you got it from. You didn’t talk about your father much, all the pirates knew of him and quite frankly you didn’t want to be associated with him. He wasn’t a good person. You feel Zoro behind you.

“Not gonna take it?” He asks and you shake your head. “You are very different from what I expected.” Zoro says. You turn to face him, your bodies practically pressed together, your space was his too apparently.

“What did you expect?” You had a feeling of what he meant but you wanted to hear it coming from him. Your father was a fearsome, murderous pirate and you barely escaped him with your life to join the straw hats. He was probably as well known as the king of pirates but for all the wrong reasons.

“To have to keep an eye on you at all times.” He says and you laugh slightly.

“You do that anyways.” You say and he smirks.

“But for very different reasons.”

“Oh? And what are those reasons, Roronoa?” You ask and watch his cheeks blush. He liked when you called him by his first name, it felt special coming from your lips.

“I’d rather keep that to myself.” He says. He’s so tall that you slightly crane your neck to look up at him. He has that look in his eye, the same look he had when he kissed you.

“Keep your secrets.” You whisper, watching his eyes dart to your lips then back to your eyes. Your stomach bottoms out as you try and keep still. He tilts his head slightly, a long finger coming up to brush your hair off your forehead. The rickety old door bangs open as Sanji bumbles in, wet and slipping against the ground. You back away from Zoro, embarrassment flooding your stomach. Sanji startles at the sight of you both before blowing out a sigh.

“There you are!” He says, walking forwards and yanking you into a tight hug, he reeked of alcohol. You patted his back, with a laugh, his wet hair dripping on your shoulder.

“Everything alright, Sanji?” You asked as Sanji pulled back, still gently holding both of your biceps as he spoke very passionately.

“I have to tell you something very important.” Sanji slurred, slightly losing his balance. You reach up and hold his arms to help steady him.

“What’s that?” You ask as Sanji laughs, veering right, almost knocking you both over. Zoro grabs you, letting Sanji crash into various pots and potting soil. You burst out laughing, Zoro still holding you. “Sanji, how much did you drink?” You ask through fits of laughter.

“Too much…” He grumbles from the floor below. You hold out a hand as Sanji grabs it and you help him up but once he has his foot he grabs you and spins you around the small shed. Zoro watches, a cloudy expression on his face, eyes like lightning. “I have to express what I feel!” Sanji declares in the small shed gaining another laugh from you.

“What is it that you feel, Sanji?” You ask, playing along. He slows, looking at with heat in his stare.

“You are so beautiful, too beautiful even. Much too beautiful to be fooling around with that bozo and-”

“Alright, casanova, enough.” Zoro interjects, yanking Sanji back by the collar of his shirt. “You’re making a fool out of yourself.”

“You’re the fool!” Sanji growls. You weren’t sure when things got so heated, you were just busting a rib moments ago. “You can’t keep her at arms length then get jealous when someone wises up to how much of a catch she is!” Sanji huffs dramatically.

“Shut up.” Zoro dismisses, crossing his arms over his chest. Sanji mimics him, crossing his arms and lowering his voice.

“Shut up.” He echoes, you snort a laugh but pretend you weren’t laughing when Zoro looks back at you. He looks back at Sanji, with murder in his eyes. You step forwards, running a hand up Zoro’s back calmingly.

“Sanji, don’t antagonize him.” You jest as the rain comes in slower and slower. Sanji huffs, blowing his blond fringe out of his eyes. He shoots one last look at Zoro as he walks to the door.

“You're running out of time. Someone’s going to wise up.” He says to Zoro before giving you a smile and slipping out of the door.

“He is so strange.” You say, shaking your head. It was quiet behind you so you turned, meeting Zoro’s eyes. There was something eating at him. “Sounds like the rain stopped,” you say, walking towards the door. Zoro’s fingers wrap carefully around your forearm, pausing your movement to the door. You turn. “Roronoa-“ he’s on you in seconds, like there was no room to wait any longer. His body pressed yours against the rickety old door, eager lips meeting yours. You gasp, his hands coming up to cup either side of your face. The desperation slowly melting into soft almost sickly sweet kisses.

“Please,” Zoro murmurs into your mouth. “Stay here with me.” Your heart stutters in your chest at the low rasp of his voice. Your entire body feels as though a fire has started beneath the floorboards and is slowly catching you ablaze. He was so rough around the edges, coarse hands and hard stares. But he held your face softly, so softly if felt as though he thought you might break beneath his touch. What did this all mean? What did your uneven heartbeat mean? Or the unsteadiness of your breath, or the burning want in the pit of your stomach. You’d never felt this way and chasing the sensation seemed like the only thing you ever actually wanted to do. Sure you loved to fight, you were raised as a fighter, but did the love of it come from the desire to please your absent father? In some ways Zoro was just like your father, strong and eager. But the glaring difference was Zoro was still around. After spending months by your side he hadn’t left, not even when he really should’ve. You trusted Zoro and all those mental obstacles in your head he seemed to vault with ease.

Your fingers slowly make their way up as you slide your arms around the back of his neck, fingertips tangling in his hair. His hands move from your cheeks to just below your butt as he picks you up with extreme ease and walks you to the opposite side of the room, setting you carefully atop a table. His kisses grow deeper as the space between practically turns to nothing. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you against him. His lips trailing from your lips to the side of your mouth then down to your neck.

“Zoro,“ you say with a strangled breath, he pulls back just slightly. Looking up at you with shining eyes and pink lips.

“Use my name.” He says husky and deep. You clear your throat.

“Roronoa-“ you could barely get the last letter out before he’s crashing his lips back against your own. Kissing you with such ferocity and vigor. A groan bubbles up out of his lips but you kiss it away. He seemed to be making up for those two months of nothing. Two months of building tension, of teaching you to use a sword, which you were really fluid with now. Two months of him eyeing you and getting angry when Sanji tried to make any moves. He was taking everything you could give him. You thought back to when you first asked him how you knew you liked someone and he told you to kiss them. It was very clear to you now, Sanji was right after all. It is just something you knew.

Zoro pulled back from the assault on your neck and with glazed eyes looked at you. He made a sound low in his throat, the air thick as can be between you. You weren’t even sure what you were going to say before. All you could think about was the space between you and how that should not exist. You took him by the collar.

“Don’t stop now.” You said cheekily, yanking him practically on top of you, the table groaning with his added weight. His body caged your own, his elbow propping itself beside your head as you hiked one leg up to wrap around his hips. He stuttered against you, something almost nervous in his movements. Your hands slid to his sides, pulling him closer to you, the contact had him almost whimpering into your open mouth. Zoro was so commanding out there, but even with him pressing you down on the table you felt like the one in control. With precise and trained movements you maneuvered yourself beneath him and in the blink of a second you slid on top with ease, hips rubbing against one another. A shocking white lightening pulsed inside you at the movement. Zoro sucked in a breath below you, hands digging into the meat of your hips. You moved against him, almost unconsciously as you leaned and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth, following the lead he set for you earlier. Your lips trailed fire down to his throat as you kissed it gently, him twitching beneath you. You kissed his scars, grabbing and intertwining your fingers with his own. You're not sure how far to take this, it’s not something you’d ever done before and quite frankly not something you wanted to try for the first time in a rickety old dusty shed. But your body was hungry for him, a breathless whimper escaping your lips. As thought an ice cold bucket of water was tossed onto you, there was a banging at the door. You flew off Zoro, stumbling over some pots, almost crashing into the floor. Zoro snapped to his feet, grabbing your hand before you could meet the ground as Luffy and Usopp popped their heads inside.

“There you two are!” Luffy said, innocently pushing the door open.

“Sanji said you two would be in here.” Usopp said, eyes wandering the shed. “Rain’s over and it’s getting late, we should head off the island.” He says and you nod.

“Let’s go!” Luffy says excitedly, running out of the shed, Usopp following moments later. It was silent for a few too many seconds before you started to laugh, running a hand through your hair.

“What’s so funny?” Zoro asked, eyes devouring you.

“Nothing. We should head back.” You breathe out, biting your lip to slow the giggles. You walk towards the door but Zoro grabs you one last time, spinning your around and kissing you dizzy. When he pulls back he looks at you very earnestly.

“Lead the way, killer.”

#one peice x reader #one piece zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro smut #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #zoro x you

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 days

Text

Shots

Hardersson x Baby!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda cries

You lift your arms up and Pernille swings you up into your car seat, buckling you in. You wiggle happily and Pernille pulls a silly face at you to get you laughing.

At a few months past one years old, you've been successfully booked in for your polio shot.

You've been fairly good all morning and get into the car happily.

Pernille turns around to get the other child in as well.

"Magda," She says," Get in the car."

Her girlfriend stands by the closed passenger door, arms crossed over her chest. "No."

"Magda," Pernille says again," The car. Get in it."

"You can't make me."

"Then don't come." Pernille doesn't really have time for this so walks around to the driver's side. "You can have lunch ready for when we come home."

"No, wait! I'll come!"

Magda finally slides into the seat, buckling herself in and still stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest.

"Stop with the pout," Pernille says," She's going to get her shot. End of discussion."

"It's going to hurt her!" Magda insists," Why isn't there a spray we can give her? Why haven't they invented that yet?!"

"Because the injection remains the best way," Pernille replies," You can wait outside if seeing her cry really bothers you."

"No!"

Magda paces like a lion as you sit on Pernille's lap while the doctor readies your polio shot.

"It'll be quick," The doctor assures her," She won't even notice it."

You don't, not at first anyway.

Pernille clicks her fingers in the opposite direction to your shot and you tilt your head to follow the sound.

You don't see the needle go in and you don't react at all until Magda bursts into tears. You watch Magda cry and that immediately triggers your own crying.

"Magda," Pernille hisses as she bounces you," Why are you crying?"

"She's crying," Magda blubbers," She's hurt!"

"She's crying because you're crying."

"We're both crying," Magda agrees," Can-Can we cry together?" She holds her arms out for you and Pernille transfers you into them.

You're both sobbing by the time you get into the car and Magda insists on sitting in the back with you while Pernille drives.

Your own tears have petered off by the time you've gotten home though Magda still has a few spilling down her cheeks.

It's a little funny, Pernille thinks, that Magda burst into sympathetic tears thinking you would have already been sobbing which only triggered a wave of your own sympathetic tears straight back at her.

"Feeling better now?" Pernille coos at you as she picks you up out of your seat.

"She seems a bit feverish," Magda says, bottom lip being worried by her teeth," We should take her back. To check her out."

"The doctor told us this might happen," Pernille replies, unlocking the house with you on her hip easily," Which you would know if you'd listened when the doctor told us."

"Are you sure? What if she breaks out in hives?"

"Then we'll take her back but this is normal Magda. She's a little hot but that's fine. Anything else?"

Magda winces. "Her plaster's coming off."

"We've got puppy plasters in the bathroom cabinet. Why don't you grab one and we'll put it on her."

Magda all but runs upstairs to the medicine cabinet and Pernille shakes her head fondly after her.

She bounces you. "Your Morsa is such a worrywart sometimes. Honestly, crying because you got your shot. She's so silly."

You giggle a little bit. "Morsa silly."

"That's right, she is."

Magda comes slipping into the room, sliding along the floor in just her socks and nearly colliding with the tv. "I've got the puppy plasters! Do you want to choose which one you want?"

You lean forward in Pernille's arms as Magda shows you all the options, pointing towards the cartoon version of a spitz style puppy.

"Good choice!"

Magda unwraps it before sticking it straight onto where you've had your shot.

"Look at that, so pretty!"

You giggle again, poking your new plaster and Magda winces.

"Princesse!" She scolds," That will hurt you!"

"She's fine, Magda," Pernille says," She's forgotten it's even happened."

Magda frowns. "But how? It's traumatising!"

"Maybe to you but she doesn't care about much outside of cuddles and food. She's fine."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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sapphire-writes · 7 months

Text

Chapter 2: Curiosity Killed The Cat

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summary ~ You begin to adapt to the unusual events of Harrenhal and your mysterious host. An unexpected guest arrives.

warnings below the cut for your convenience

warnings ~ spooky ghostly stuff, spiders

note: and so begins our spooky adventure! I hope you enjoy it!

banner made by the fantastic @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!

You lay in bed, tossing and turning for several hours waiting for another scream to inevitably pierce through the now silent halls of Harrenhal house.

Your eyes are too heavy, and you drift into a dreamless sleep. The belly full of tea must have helped soothe your nerves. Or perhaps it was more your time spent with the stoic head of the house.

It is Maelor’s cry that wakes you the following morning, rather than his mother’s, through the baby monitor on your nightstand. You hear his small gurgles as he wakes, hungry for his morning bottle. Grabbing the monitor, you jump out of bed to head toward the nursery.

As you walk down the hallway, the door opens and Jaehaera stands dressed in a pink dress, her hair done in two braids down the side of her head.

“Beat you!” she says, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“How’d you get ready so quickly?” you comment, smile slightly faltering, “And how did you do your h--”

“Come on Miss Gevie, breakfast is my favorite meal of the day!” she sings, brushing past you and towards the hallway.

“Jaeha--- um--- I have to get Maelor!” you call, as she disappears around the corner her braids swinging behind her, “Okay….you head down!”

The day starts with a simple breakfast of oatmeal and eggs--Jaehaera is first to inform you that the only way to eat eggs is sunny side up. Aemond joins you but only for a cup of coffee. You notice he prefers it black. He doesn’t speak to you, listening intently to Jaehaera as she chatters away. Then Jaehaera begins her morning lessons when her tutor arrives promptly at nine. A kind older woman who awards you a tight smile when she introduces herself.

You hold Maelor against your hip as he babbles, walking through the main foyer and toward the library. Several workers have arrived, and you’ve seen Aemond directing them to different areas of the house throughout the morning. He’s present in the library, sitting at the oak desk when you enter.

“Sleep well?” he asks, as he notices you enter the library. His eye flickers to Maelor in your arms.

Rising from his seat, he closes a folder of papers before rounding the side of the desk. He walks closer to you, lifting his hand toward Maelor. The baby grabs Aemond’s forefinger with his pudgy fist.

“As well as I could. I was nervous during the night,” you admit, cheeks warming, “Just in case anything happened again.”

Aemond hums, still watching Maelor who holds his finger hostage. The baby brings it to his mouth, gnawing on it with his gums.

“He’s teething,” Aemond comments, “Hopefully that won’t cause more late-night disturbances.”

“It’s alright. I know what I signed up for,” you assure him, as he pulls his hand away from Maelor, patting the baby on the head.

“I’m afraid you’ll get more than you bargained for,” he says, eyes meeting yours, “This is…a lot.”

Your eyes search his face, trying to decipher the emotions he hides. Trying to find some cracks in the armor he wears during the day. You saw some last night, in the kitchen. The walls came down, if only for a moment.

“You need help,” you tell him, “You can’t manage this all on your own. The kids, Helaena, the house…I’m here to help.”

“The children,” he clarifies, “You’re here to help the children.”

“And you,” you offer, “I mean…if I can be of help with anything I’m happy to do so.”

Let me help you, you silently beg. Someone has to.

Aemond hums once more, “You’re very kind, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Just doing my job,” you assure him, but your face continues to warm at his compliment.

You hold each other’s gaze for several moments before Aemond finally looks away.

“I have some work to do,” he tells you, and you take it as a sign to leave him be.

“Maelor is about ready for a nap,” you tell him, turning on your heel to go.

You shut the door behind you, neither speaking again.

“I’ll be gone for a few days,” Aemond tells you later in the week during one of your late-night chats.

A cup of tea at midnight has become somewhat of a tradition for both of you. Helaena wakes nearly every night. It's always the same. Screaming for the son she lost. The green and purple cups are always waiting for you in the cabinet by the stove for your inevitable journey into the kitchen.

“Just tying up some loose ends in King’s Landing,” he assures you, “Helaena should be alright. I’ve spoken with her doctor about increasing her nighttime medication.”

“And if she isn’t?” you ask, unable to hide your nervousness at the thought of him leaving.

Aemond watches you for a moment, humming softly to himself. It does little to soothe your nerves.

Things go smoother than expected while Aemond is away. You fall into a gentle routine with Jaehaera and Maelor.

While Jaehaera is in her lessons you bring Maelor to Helaena. As Aemond had prepared you, Helaena refuses to hold him. She barely even looks at him. Her eyes instead are trained on your face, reading your microexpressions like the pages of a book. You and Helaena don’t talk much during these visits, though you attempt to engage her in conversation.

She always joins you for lunch, after you put Maelor down for his afternoon nap. Jaehaera comes fresh from High Valyrian and chats with her mother in their native tongue.

Then it’s time for Jaehaera’s afternoon lessons and you get some time for yourself as Helaena returns to her room like a bird returning to its cage.

Usually, you journey to the library, browsing through the collection of novels and trying not to snoop. Though you must admit, in an old house like this it's hard not to.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Advice you should probably heed. You glance at a desk in the library strewn with papers. Aemond has a private office, he’d told you as much when you arrived. Still, your fingers skim the papers, and you pick up a manila folder examining its contents.

Old documents, withered and yellowed nearly disintegrating from age. You can barely read the cursive ledger on the page. Squinting, you are able to make out the word Strong.

Satisfaction brought it back.

A loud thump causes you to drop the folder in surprise, sending pages scattering to the floor.

“Shit,” you curse to yourself, dropping to your knees and picking up the pages, putting them back where they belong.

You hurry over to the window, looking outside. A red Corvette is parked, its driver missing. The noise must have been the car door slamming shut. Dusting off your knees you hurry out of the library closing the door behind you. You quicken your pace down the hall and front steps as voices echo from the kitchen.

A man stands in front of the sink clad in a three-piece suit, holding his cell phone to his ear.

“Tell Corlys…dammit, I can’t hear you,” he snaps, holding his phone in front of him, “Hello?”

The call clearly drops and he sighs, “Bloody service.”

You clear your throat, alerting him of your presence. He turns slowly, still looking at his phone as though he couldn’t be bothered with you being there at all. A lock of silver hair falls into his eyes as he leans against the counter. A ring on his hand catches the light. Like you’d need to see the Targaryen sigil stamped on the back. You knew he was a relative the moment you saw him.

Targaryens don’t camouflage well.

“Just a moment,” he comments, glancing up at you from his phone. He does a double-take, straightening up and slipping his phone into his back pocket, “Hello.”

“Sorry…I wasn’t expecting anyone,” you tell him, watching the corner of his mouth tick upwards in a smirk.

Aemond does that too.

“And I wasn’t expecting a beautiful woman to greet me,” the stranger says, “So I suppose we’re both surprised.”

Warmth floods through you at his flirtatious tone. He’s older--much older-- and an air of confidence encircles him like a veil of smoke.

“Daemon,” he introduces, extending his hand for you to shake, “And you must be the au pair.”

You place your hand in his, and he grasps it firmly. His palm is rough and warm; much larger than your own. Your lips part, you’re sure you haven’t taken a breath since he’s looked at you.

“Mhmm,” you answer, telling him your name.

Daemon releases your hand, shaking his head slightly as he chuckles to himself. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

“Something funny?” you ask, trying to keep the annoyance from your tone.

“No, nothing. I’ve found au pairs to be particularly helpful,” he comments, laughing under his breath as though he’d told a joke, “It just surprises me, is all.”

“Why is it surprising?”

“Aemond’s not usually the sort,” Daemon says, not clarifying any further.

You understand what he is implying, your cheeks growing hotter.

“Aemond and I have a strictly professional relationship,” you tell him, causing him to chuckle more.

“I’m sure you do. Aemond does value his professional relationships, doesn’t he?” Daemon says with his smirk growing, “All this talk of my nephew and I’ve yet to see the man. Where is he?”

“He’s not here.”

Daemon’s eyebrows lift toward his hairline.

“Not here?”

“He’s away on business. Won’t be back for a few days.”

“And he left you, all alone?” Daemon asks, taking a step closer to you. He reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t suppress the shiver that rolls through you.

“I can take care of myself,” you insist. Daemon’s scent floods your senses; teakwood, smoke, cinnamon. Intoxicating; it makes your head spin.

“I’m sure you can. My nephew wouldn’t have hired you if he had any doubts,” Daemon murmurs, dropping his hand, “It’s not the harmless nanny he needs to worry about.”

“What do you mean?”

Daemon watches you like a cat toying with a mouse. His lip curls slightly, enjoying your discomfort.

“Are you aware of the history of this house?” Daemon asks.

“Yes,” you tell him.

“Well, there you have it,” Daemon says, walking by you, “Have Aemond call me when he’s returned.”

You can hear his steps echoing down the hall, followed by the slamming of a car door. You stand in the kitchen for several moments, trying to catch your bearings when Jaehaera runs in.

“Who was that?” she asks, throwing her arms around your waist.

“Just…nothing,” you assure her, stroking her hair, “How were your lessons?”

As Jaehaera tells you about her day, you focus on calming your racing heartbeat. You can’t help but linger on what Daemon had said.

What exactly was he worried about?

Helaena Targaryen loves arachnids.

This becomes apparent when a spider scurries across the floral picnic blanket you’d laid out for Jaehaera.

Maelor sits with his thumb in his mouth rocking back and forth as though a gentle breeze may knock him onto his back. Sitting up is quite new to him. The afternoon had been going quite well before the eight-legged monster descended on the tea party.

“Miss Gevie! Miss Gevie!” Jaehaera screeches, launching herself off of the blanket and into your arms. Her girlish scream echoes through the backyard and she trembles against you.

The arachnid freezes at her movements, eight legs tensed and ready. Maelor stares at his sister, violet eyes wide before they drop to the blanket. Helaena is seated in a chair a few feet away, the large sun hat she wears partially obscuring her face.

“The fresh air does her good,” Aemond had told you before he left.

Helaena dives off of her chair, knees crashing into the grass beside the picnic blanket. You comfort Jaehaera as Helaena dips her torso lower against the blanket letting her hand dance above the spider. She presses her cheek into the blanket as the spider curiously lifts two legs up toward her dancing fingers.

“Don’t be afraid,” she murmurs, touching the tips of her fingers to the spider's outstretched legs. She stays like that for a moment, a small smile appearing on her face.

Maelor watches his mother, his thumb falling from his mouth.

“Kill it!” Jaehaera demands as her mother scoops the creature into her hand.

Helaena rolls onto her back, the rim of her hat getting crushed beneath her. Her knees are stained green. Maelor claps his pudgy hands together letting out a gleeful squawk.

“Why?” Helaena asked, looking at the creature in her palm with the fondness she no longer gives her children, “For simply being here?”

“He’s ugly and I hate him,” Jaehaera insists, “Make her kill it, please.”

Helaena only hums, letting the spider climb down her arm. She sounds like Aemond when she does that. Warmth bleeds down your cheeks and onto your neck. You’d been missing him. The nights have been rather empty without your late-night chats.

Helaena turns on her side, ignoring her daughter’s pleas and releasing the spider into the grass. Once free, it takes off lost from sight almost instantly.

“There,” Helaena says happily, “No need for violence, byka jorrāelagon.”

“Kepus would’ve killed it,” Jaehaera says, with her lower lip jutted outwards in a pout.

There is a shift in the energy between mother and daughter.

“Why don’t you ask him then?” Helaena says, rolling onto her back once more and closing her eyes.

“Kepus!” Jaehaera says, pushing away from your arms and running toward the house. You watch her run, following her gaze up the stone steps until you meet Aemond’s eyes.

He’s back.

She throws herself into Aemond’s arms much like she did your own, and he reaches down, scooping her up in his arms and holding her against his waist. There’s a swooping feeling in your stomach as he approaches, the heat returning to your cheeks.

“How are my girls?” Aemond asks as he moves closer.

You move to the other side of the blanket, scooping Maelor in your arms as he begins to bang his fists on Helaena’s hat.

“We’re having a tea party,” Jaehara tells him, “Muña saved a spider. I said she should kill it.”

Aemond chuckles softly at her pointed tone.

“Your mother would never,” he says, setting her down on the blanket, “And you?”

You glance up at him, surprised he addressed you, “Me?”

Aemond nods, holding your gaze, “How are you?”

You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as he continues to stare, piercing gaze never leaving your face.

My girls.

“I’m well,” you answer.

Aemond joins you as you sit back on the blanket, the spider no longer disturbing your peace. Jaehaera dotes on him, she loves her uncle dearly you can tell. You return Maelor to the bassinet as his eyelids begin to droop, rocking it side to side with your hand as he begins to drift off to sleep.

Jaehaera places a saucer on Helaena’s stomach before balancing a teacup on top of it. Helaena barely raises a brow as Jaehaera wedges a lemon cake onto the plate as well. Though she doesn’t thank her daughter, she brings a hand to the corner of the cake, tearing off a piece and placing it in her mouth.

Aemond sits straight up, balancing a teacup on his knee as Jaehaera stands behind him, combing her fingers through his long, platinum hair and twisting small braids throughout. You hadn’t realized how long he kept it, it’s usually in a bun when you see him, but now silver waves cascade down his shoulders to the middle of his back.

“We should head inside,” Aemond mutters, “The clouds are gathering.”

“A storm is coming tomorrow,” Helaena murmurs.

“How’d you know?” you ask and Helaena’s mouth ticks upwards. All Targaryens seem to have the same smirk.

“She always knows,” Aemond says, smiling softly as his elder sister.

In sleep, someone speaks to you. Whispers in your ear, breath hot like flames licking against your flesh words you do not understand.

A scream pierces through the night and you awake with a start. An ache begins behind your eyes and you press the heel of your palm against your forehead. You catch your bearing, sitting up and blinking as your eyes adjust to the darkness. Realization washes over you.

Helaena.

She’d been taking a second dose of her sleeping medication ever since Aemond spoke with her psychiatrist. Had she missed a dose this evening? You quickly rise from your bed, not bothering to grab your robe and flinging open your door.

The hallway is dark, and no moonlight spilling through the windows tonight. You reach out, holding onto the wall as a guide as you move further down the hallway.

A shuffling noise behind you makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your breath hitches and you turn around, staring into the dark behind you. You can’t see anything, just pitch black. You should’ve left a light on in your room, something to anchor you. Your hands begin to tingle as adrenaline speeds the beating of your heart.

There’s nothing but darkness, you assure yourself, the dark can’t hurt you.

But you can’t shake the feeling that as you look down the hallway, someone….or something…is looking back.

You release a shaky breath, turning back around. Something moves toward you, this time you’re certain. And suddenly a hand covers your mouth blocking the scream that rises in your throat and slamming you into the wall. It's not too hard, just enough for your shoulder blades to make a solid thump against the wood.

Aemond catches your fist in his opposite hand as you attempt to strike him, pushing your wrist back against the wall above your head. Your eyes widen when you realize it's him, cheeks blazing with rage and embarrassment, your body sagging with relief.

His hand remains on your mouth, though for a moment you’re sure it’s your scream tearing through the halls. Your stomach drops at the agonized wail and you squeeze your eyes shut. Aemond’s hand slides down until your chin rests in the space between his thumb and forefinger. His fingers are pressed so tightly against your throat you’re sure he must be able to feel your fluttering pulse.

“Hela--,” you begin to speak but are cut off by the return of his hand over your mouth.

“Shhh,” Aemond insists, as your eyebrows crease with confusion.

You mumble incoherently against his palm, lips pressing against the calloused flesh. Aemond presses closer, his tall slender frame towering over you. You cease trying to talk, your thoughts muddled as the warmth of his body presses against you. Aemond dips his head so his lips rest against the shell of your ear.

“That’s not Helaena.”

It would be intimate, sensual even, if it weren’t for the words he spoke in that low whisper. A feeling of dread washes over you like a bucket of ice water.

“Shh,” he says once more, his lips grazing your ear, “Close your eyes. Stay very, very still.”

You don’t dare move, you don’t dare speak; you simply do as you’re told, squeezing your eyes shut. Trembling against him your fingers dig into his arm while the other remains trapped in his grasp over your head. Fear burns in your belly, so hot it's as though someone is stoking a fire right in front of you.

Aemond presses closer, your breasts press against the hard planes of his chest, nipples hardening at the stimulation through the thin material of your tank top. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so frightened. Your heart is beating like a rabbit’s foot, and you try to listen to the sound of Aemond’s breathing in your ear as some way of grounding yourself.

A groan echoes from down the hall.

Your grip on him tightens.

“It’s alright,” Aemond murmurs, his voice barely audible, “We’ll just let them pass.”

Your breathing stops.

Let them? Let what? Let who?

The heat intensifies around you, colors bursting behind your eyelids as though someone is shining a light on the pair of you, though you don’t dare open your eyes. You cling to Aemond’s command like a life raft despite your morbid curiosity.

You don’t know how long you stay like that before the light begins to fade, the warmth leached from your skin as whatever passed you moved on. The hall is silent, your ears are ringing and all you can hear is each shaky inhalation of your breath. It’s not enough. It feels like all the air has been sucked from the hall like you’ll never breathe again.

“Y/N.”

What was that?

“Open your eyes.”

His voice. Aemond’s voice. The only thing that makes sense.

You open your eyes.

The hall is dark and you blink, adjusting. Aemond releases your hand and your arm falls, slightly sore and tingling with pins and needles from being held above your head for so long. He uncovers your mouth as well, taking a step back.

“Are you alright?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

You don’t answer, frozen. Aemond cups both of your cheeks in his hands, thumbs smoothing away tears that fall. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. Aemond’s brows knit together and you bring your hands to his wrists.

“What was that?” you whisper, voice hoarse.

Aemond’s expression is pained.

“There are things I haven’t told you about Harrenhal,” he says softly, releasing your face.

“What kind of things?”

“Unpleasant ones,” he continues.

You hold his gaze. If there was ever a chance to run from the manor screaming, this was it. Aemond watches you as though he expects you to run, his hands clenched into fists at his side. You know him already, know that if you chose to leave he wouldn’t follow you. He’s used to doing things on his own. It’s all he’s ever known.

It’s your choice.

Aemond lifts his eyes to meet yours as you reach for his hand. His fingers release automatically at your touch and you weave them through your own, holding tightly, anchoring yourself to him.

“Let’s get some tea then,” you tell him, “I want to know everything.”

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thecapybara526 · 1 year

Text

“The way I feel about you, is the how you feel about her.”

Avatar : the way of water

Pairing: Neteyam x Reader

One shot: Y/n has been in love with Neteyam her whole life. He was her mighty warrior. You’re both 19 and expected to pick a mate. Despite being right in front of him, Neteyam’s eyes have always been drawn to a different girl in the village.this is based of a song I heard today “her” by Sophia Scott. Please listen while you read.I’ll let you know when to start playing it.

Themes: sad, angst, unrequited love, jealously

You and Neteyam were flying your Ikrans, it was almost eclipse and you wanted to go on one last ride for the day.

“Come on Nete! We’re almost there!” You yell glancing over your shoulder.

There he was your mighty warrior flying right behind you.

“Slow down! Y/n! You’re going to crash” he laughed at you, with your adventurous spirit he didn’t understand why you were so close to him. Lo’ak would probably be a better fit to satisfy your need for adrenaline.

What Neteyam didn’t know is when you were close to him your adrenaline felt as if you had dived off a mountain. You had loved him all your life. You first met when you were kids.

...

You were climbing a tree and claimed it as yours. One day Lo’ak, Kiri and Spider had stumbled across the same tree. You were high up playing by yourself.

“Hey! That’s our tree get down!” Lo’ak yelled

Your head snapped down to the two Na’vi and a human? You had seen humans before but never this close. Your mother didn’t like you around them. You slowly started to make your way but not all the way just enough to talk without yelling.

“This is my tree! You go away!” You furrowed your brows, you knew he was Lo’ak the youngest son of the Olo’eyktan. But that didn’t mean you were going to give up your tree.

“Please? We really like this tree. We found it yesterday.” Kiri spoke not wanting to fight.

“Kiri! Shh! This has always been our tree.” Lo’ak whispered. You narrowed your eyes, you didn’t like liars.

“Well this has been my tree for 1 week now. So it is mine.” You stuck your tongue out. You sat down on a low branch. Swinging your legs, your tail flicking side to side, a little nervous.

Quickly Lo’ak jumped up and grabbed you by your tail. Making you fall backward off the tree, and you fell to the ground hard. You winced.

“Lo’ak!” you heard an unfamiliar voice, it wasn't one of the adults which was good.

You didn't turn to even look at the voice and you tackled Lo’ak. You both rolled around but you ended up on top pinning him down, you were older so just a little bit bigger than him.

“That was mean!” your eyes brimmed with tears. Lo’ak eyes widened, he didn't want to make you cry. He felt bad. Before he could say anything you were being picked up gently. You tried to turn but the strong arms around you kept you still.

“What is going on here?” your ears flattened back, a boy was holding you. You have never been held by a boy. A blush coated your cheeks.

“Lo’ak wanted this tree and she didn't want to move” Kiri was annoyed, she knew Neteyam was going to give them a speech. He was only 8 yet had the moral compass of a saint.

The strong arms put you down and turned you around to face them. It was the first time your heart ever stopped for Neteyam and it wasn't the last. He was beautiful.

“Are you okay? I'm Neteyam. Sorry about my brother.” He smiles at you and your knees went weak.

“Woah. Do you need to see Tsahik?” he helped you stand up again.

“N-no, I'm okay. Thank you.” you couldn't look into his eyes. He nodded and let you go. At that moment, you wanted to collapse so he would hold you again.

“Lo’ak, if you apologize I won’t tell mother and father.” He put his hands on his hips, while he addressed his brother with a serious tone. Kiri and Spider chuckled, Neteyam always so serious.

Your eyes widened. At that moment you fell in love for the first time. This Neteyam, he stood up for you, held you, and was very beautiful. Your 8-year-old heart decided that one day. He would be your mate.

“I’m sorry.” Lo’ak looked at you, “we can share the tree?” He offered as a peace offering.

A grin broke out on your face.

“Yes! Let's play. You too.” you reached for Neteyam’s hand and lead him to the tree. You weren't letting him go.

...

You felt Neteyam’s Ikran land next to yours. You sat down on the ledge of the mountain. You always loved high places. He saw down close next to you, thighs brushing together.

“We’re getting too old to sneak off Y/n.” Neteyam chuckled. You immediately frowned. You hated being reminded of your age. 19. You were both over due to pick a mate. Especially him.

He was the future Olo’eyktan, he should’ve picked his mate by now. You of course hadn’t picked because well, you wanted him. It wasn’t fair to mate with anyone else when your heart completely belonged to Neteyam.

“Ah, why the frown.” Neteyam bumped your shoulder. You forced a smile back on your face.

“Ah you know I hate the idea of growing up.” you shook your head.

“I know, I know. I'm sorry.” Neteyam didn't understand why it upset you so much. You were at the best part of your adulthood, both one of the people, warriors, and you could pick a mate.

“I just don't want us to grow apart.” you ducked your head down, to hide your eyes from him. Sometimes you were scared he would see how you truly felt about him.

“Oh Y/n” he turned and hugged you.

You buried your head in his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. You loved when he held you. It didn't often happen now that you were older. It was crazy to feel the difference; when you were younger, he was smaller and skinny. Now he was way taller and muscular. In the moments he did hold you, you wished you could stay like this forever.

“You will ways be my best friend.” You placed your forehead on his shoulder. Ouch. You hated it. Hated the idea of just being a friend. But you’d would rather be a best friend than lose him all together. When the time came and he chose a mate, you probably wouldn’t be able to share moments like this anymore.

“Thank you, Neteyam.” He pulled away from you and you missed his warmth.

“Can I ask you something?” He had a serious expression on his face.

You shifted uncomfortably. You tried to make your heart settle. Every time he got serious you wished it was him about to confess his love for you. You knew though. He was never going to.

“Yes, anything Neteyam.” you smiled

“Ah...” he looked away, blushing. You tilted your head at him. “I just figured since, y-you're a girl.”

“Yes. Yes, Neteyam, I am a girl.” you chuckled nervously. What was this about?

“How do you think a girl would want to be asked to be my mate?”

Your heart sunk to the deepest part of pandora’s forest. You swear you could hear the crack appearing on your heart.

“W-what?” your voice was soft. It couldn't be, he wasn't talking about-

“Neriaya.” you slowly looked away from him, “you know how I feel about her, and I think she may feel the same.”

You took a deep breath, tears emerged their way into your eyes and forced them back. You wouldn't cry in front of him. Neriaya. Of course. You knew already. How could you not? You watched everything Neteyam did. You didn't fail to notice his blush when Neriaya spoke to him, how he would stand a little straighter when she passed him, how he would stare.

He had always had his eye on her and you had your eye on him. You hoped that as you got older he would notice you. Maybe you could change his mind and start to fall in love with you instead . Looks like your time had run out.

“Neteyam, any girl would love to be your mate. Whatever you choose to do, she will love.” You stood up. You wouldn’t torture yourself like this. There was no way you were helping him plan this. You couldn’t.

“I was hopping maybe you could help me though?” You dared to look at him, hoping your mask wouldn’t falter. His eyes were hopeful and excited. No. You couldn’t do this.

“I’m not very romantic. Ask Kiri. Let’s go. It’s almost dark.” You jumped on your Ikran, waiting for him to mount his before you took off. You flew fast ahead of him, tears escaping, the wind cleaning them off your cheeks for you.

Neteyam was a bit confused. But he figured you were just worried about getting in trouble, this would’ve been your third strike with your mom. He laughed at the thought.

…

The next couple weeks, 2 and a half to be exact, not that you were counting. You distanced yourself from Neteyam. Now that he expressed his plans to ask Neriaya to be his mate, it was too painful. You didn't want to hear or even think about it. Being away from him was the only way. Yesterday you caught the two of them talking quietly after dinner. The way he looked at her made you crumble. You walked to your hut, thank Ewya your mom wasn't there. Because you collapsed to the floor and cried. You cried for the 8-year-old girl, who you promised that he would be your mate. You also cried for yourself. The 19-year-old girl who was in love with Neteyam.

Neteyam didn't understand why you had been so distant. He was kind of upset honestly. You were his best friend, he had confessed his intentions with Neriaya. Why weren't you excited for him and helping him? Honestly you avoiding him upset him to his core. He felt off the past week's without you by his side. There was even a moment where you pasted right by him. Without even a glance. He just shook his head. What was wrong?

He knew once he mated with Neriaya, he wasn't going to be able to spend much time with you. The thought of not seeing you every day hurt him, he hated how it made him feel. But he would have Neriaya. His parents always talked about her to him. How pretty she was, a good hunter, and how she could be a good Tsahik. To Neteyam, he knew if chose Neriaya, his parents would be proud and happy. He from then on he pictured Neriaya as his mate.

She was everything his parents said she was. Neteyam could tell Neriaya would be shy when he talked to her. She was nice and easy to talk to, Neteyam wasn’t necessarily eager to mate, he brushed it off when he turned 18 but when he heard his parents talking about the fact that he hadn't chosen a mate. He knew he has no choice but to do it now.

Today, he had finally had enough of your ignoring game. He started looking everywhere for you and he eventually found you with Kiri doing her hair.

“Hello.” Kiri smiled at his greeting her brother. Neteyam watched you carefully as you looked up from Kiri’s hair to him. You had a look on your face he couldn't decipher it, it made he angry. He knew you better than everyone else. What was wrong?

When you looked at him it was a mix of emotions. Happy to see his face, sad to know you were losing him, and jealous that someone else gets the privileget love him.

“Neteyam,” you spoke quickly and went back to the braids. Kiri raised an eyebrow and knew this wasn’t going to end well. Y/n didn’t have to say but Kiri knew you were upset about Neteyam’s plans. Kiri didn’t understand how you didn’t tell Neteyam you loved him or how Neteyam didn’t notice.

“Y/n is doing my hair.” she quickly interject after the 15 seconds of silence.

“Uh y-yeah. Maybe you could do mine after?” his eyes shot to the floor.

Kiro rolled her eyes. Oh hell no. She thought breaks Y/n’s heart and can't even look her in the eye?

“She just started. It will take forever. Maybe ask Neriaya?” Kiri’s eyes were challenging. She wanted to push her brother. What would he do?

You sat there silently, not wanting to comment. Kiri even suggesting Neriaya doing Neteyam’s hair hurt. You used to do his hair.

“I can wait.” He searched your eyes, willing you to look at him and you did. Those orange eyes melting you.

“Yea.” you nodded, you would usually be happier but instead you held your composer. This didn't change anything between the two of.

It took you 30 minutes to do Kiri’s hair. You and Kiri just talked while Neteyam sat with his eyes closed against the wall. When you turned to look at him he was asleep.

“Well, so much for waiting” Kiri laughed before walking out of the hut.

You watched her retreating form and turned back to Neteyam. You knelt down beside him and looked at him. He looks so calm, his chest rising and falling. You brushed away the braid that fell on his face. You chuckled, he really did need his hair done. You sighed and got up.

You felt a hand snap onto your wrist. You jumped and looked down. Neteyam was looking at you through sleepy eyes.

“Ah, I'm sorry. I dozed off but I'm ready.” he's sat up quickly and started to undo the beads.

You knelt down slowly. His back to you.

“Okay, lay back when you're ready.” you twirled your own braid around your finger. (Play song)

You noticed movement and Neteyamms strong back was coming down toward you. His head hit your thighs and his eyes peered up at you. He was so handsome. You licked your lips nervously and started to get to work.

“Y/n..” Neteyam started but stopped. You didn't acknowledge it. Didn't ask for him to repeat himself. You didn't want to talk. You wanted to enjoy the feeling of him being yours. Or pretending he's yours.

Neteyam closed him eyes and took a deep breath. Your fingers felt great, but he couldn't shake the weight on his chest. He hated this tension. Usually when you did his hair it was non stop laughing, you slapping him to stay still. He missed it. He missed you. He opened his mouth again.

“Kiri talked my ear off, I'll let you know when I'm done.” you said quietly not giving him a chance to speak.

He gave you a tight smile and closed his eyes again.

...

“Done.” you finally spoke after almost an hour. His hair was longer than Kiri’s. He didn't respond. He's asleep again. You shook his shoulder gently.

“Neteyam?”

His eyes fluttered open and a small smile started to form. He looked at you, you looked so pretty.

“Hi.” he then remembered he was in your lap and that you did his hair. He sat up quickly and stood up. You looked up at him with furrowed brows. Okay...

He blushed. Why did he do that? You had braided his hair thousands of times. He never felt nervous. It was probably the tension between the two of you. He was fixing that today.

“Y/n. I want to talk.” he sighed.

“Neteyam-” you huffed ready to shut him down.

“Not here. Come on” he grabbed your hand and led you towards the ikran. You whipped your hand away.

“Neteyam!” you whisper yelled. It was late in the afternoon. Na’vi roaming everywhere getting ready for dinner. What if Neriaya saw them holding hands?

“What? Come on.” Neteyam kept moving. You felt people looking at you, so you followed him. Not wanting to cause a scene.

...

You landed your ikran next to Neteyam’s, you were fuming. How dare he. How dare you push this conversation on you.

“What is wrong with you?!” you yelled at him as soon as your feet hit the ground marching toward him.

“Me? What's wrong with you!” he yelled back. He was frustrated. This wasn't him.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell.” he immediately felt bad. He never yelled at you.

“I didn't want to talk right now! Why are you doing this? You have other things to worry about right now.” your voice softened at every sentence. No longer mad. Just sad and frustrated. You were tired of hurting.

He walked forward and grabbed your hands. Bending his neck down a little to look you in the eyes, his hair brushing your wrists.

“Y/n right now I need you more than ever. You're my best friend. I need your support right now.”

A confused expression passed along your face that turned into exhaustion, eyebrows bunching together.

“Neteyam. I-I’m sorry but I can't be there for you with this.” you tried to yank your hands away but his grip held you.

He shook his head side to side, mouth dropping open a little.

“Y/n, everything was fine between us. What happened? I feel like you're keeping your distance, like you don't want to be around me. You're my best friend.” His voice dropped low, he swallowed hard getting emotional.

You couldn't take it anymore. You couldn't hear the word best friend again. Your knees buckled. Neteyam caught you, lowering to his knees as well. His eyes widened.

“Neteyam please.” your voice cracked, and your head was low. Shielding your face from him.

“Please don't ask this of me. You cannot ask for this.” the weight of carrying all these feelings was finally catching up to you, it was too much. It was just spilling all out.

He pulled you to his chest when you started crying but you used your arms to create distance. Your hands pushing against his shoulders.

“Y/n talk to me.” you couldn't help him? You couldn't be there for him with his mate?

“I can't do this anymore Nete.” his heart broke hearing his nick name. He missed it.

“I can't help you, or be around you or even go to the ceremony.” tears spilled over your cheeks. He tried to force your head up but you shook him off and continued. He was lost.

“I- I wish that I could've told you how I felt and if only you knew how it breaks my heart, it breaks my heart to know you love Neriaya.” you looked up at him finally. His eyes were cloudy with tears as well. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did this mean you..?

“Y/n are you saying?” his voice was shaky. He felt his entire world flip upside down. “Y/n-”

You cut him off.

“So no. No Neteyam. I cannot be there for you. Because the way that I feel about you. Is how you feel about her.” you wiped tears from your face and stood up.

He stood up with you, his hands still attached to your forearms.

“I -Y/n... This is.. I don't-” He stuttered. He was so thrown off. You? You loved him?

“You don't have to say anything. You are going to be mated to Neriaya. That's okay. I want you to be happy. But I won't do it Neteyam. I won't break what is left of my heart for you.” you were numb. You felt as if you had poured all the emotion you had left out to him.

“Why didn't you ever..why didn't you tell me?” Neteyam couldn't stop staring at you. He always thought you were beautiful but did he see you as his mate? Did he have feelings for you? The same way he felt about Neriaya? Did he even love Neriaya?

Because how he felt in this moment. This is what he would describe heartbreak to be. Your tear-stained face. Puffy eyes. The weight of your words. He was losing you. He was losing his best friend. He was losing you forever.

“Neteyam, you've always looked at Neriaya. Always drawn to her. I knew and I thought being your best friend would be enough but it's not.” your tone was flat. It scared him, some emotion was better than none. He hated this. He hated that he made you feel this way.

“Y/n, please let's talk about this.” he was desperate. He didn't know if he truly had feelings for you but he knew he didn't want to lose you. He wanted you as close as possible at the moment. He didn't want you to walk away. Not from him.

He didn't think. He just pulled you to his arms.

You went from zero emotion to one hundred emotions to then only one. Anger.

“Enough!” you yelled. “Enough! Enough!” you pounded on his chest forcing him to let you go.

“Neteyam enough. No more. There is no saving this. There is no fixing this. There is no us!“

He let you go and you instantly put distance between the two of you stepping back.

“Y/n please. Yes, we can. We can fix this.” He held his arms out as he talked.

“Do you have feelings for me?” your voice was barely above a whisper. But somehow he heard you. He just stared at you.

“Well?” you raised an eyebrow. You really like to torture yourself.

“I-I don't know.” his arms dropped to his sides.

“Neteyam.” you took a step towards him. A small one but enough for you to be able to see those beautiful eyes.

“I see you. I love you. And because of that I can't do the best friend thing with you. Enough. Please” and with that, you turned around and jumped on your ikran. Just like that day a couple of weeks ago. You wiped the tears from your eyes except this time It was a lot more painful.

Neteyam collapsed to his knees. Head in his hands. He had lost you. He started to cry. How was he going to fix this? He knew he needed you. He needed you to survive. But did he have feelings for you?

....

Sorry! Don’t hate me! I just was so inspired by this song. Should I make a part two? I'm also working on 2 other requests so to the people who requested them, they are in the works don't worry.

PART 2 is finally up!

#lo’ak #neteyam imagine #neteyam x reader #avatar 2 #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #avatar way of water #lo’ak sully #lo’ak x reader #neteyam series #neteyam sully #neteyam x y/n #neteyam #neteyam scenario #neteyam imagines #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #avatar imagines #avatar x y/n

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Crossed Wires 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: silverfox!Andy Barber, Cole Turner

Summary: you try to balance your work with your private life as your boss and a new client try to blur the lines. (short!reader)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The gravel mulches loudly under the tires of the truck. You grip the ridged wheel as the seat belt strains against your shoulder. You make yourself sit back, the seat slid up as far as it will go. Still, the bumper shortens your perspective.

You figured you’d get a call to the old Orson place when you heard it sold. That was months ago though and the new owner finally set down roots there. You haven’t seen them, you’ve only heard the whispers that accompany any happening in Hammer Ford; from a new recipe to the juiciest of scandals. You pay much attention to any of it.

You keep your hands at ten and two as you follow the long gravelly drive to the farmhouse facade. There’s a single car parked outside the garage. It’s a sleek white SUV, luxury by the looks of the hood ornament. It’s not what you expect around here. That paint job will be dusty in now time, if not scratched by errant pebbles.

You pull in and shut off the engine. You undo your seat belt and check your watch. Right on schedule. You open the door and step on the rusted step below the door, letting yourself down with a hop. Your tan work boots kick up dirt as you round to the passengers side and swing the door open to retrieve your heavy work bag.

You sling the thick strap over your shoulder and snap the door as you head towards the house. You rest your hand on the side of the bag as you near the steps, searching for any sign of life. The stairs creak as you climb onto the low porch.

“Can I help you?” The deep voice startles you.

You blink and turn to face the man sitting on the wooden boards, bolts and screws around him along with metal parts and wooden boards. You hadn’t seen him through the tight slats of the railing.

You keep your usual vague stare as you sniff, “got a call about the breaker.”

He squints at you, a squiggle forming between his brows. He’s older. His grey hair has a single bolt of its former dirty blond just above his forehead. Despite the heat and the dirt sprinkled over the boards, he wears a pair of dark slacks and a button-up rolled to his elbows.

“You’re the electrician,” he states as he sets aside the small screwdriver in his hand. He stands with a grunt, grasping his knee before he straightens.

“Sure am,” you reply flatly.

“I spoke with a man,” he intones, hands going to his hips as he looks down at you.

“That’s would be my boss. Cole.”

“That’s his name,” he steps forward, wiping his hand on his shirt, staining the light gray fabric, “Andy.”

He offers his hand and you shake it curtly. All the farmers pride themselves on keeping a firm grip and you never faltered with them. He squeezes before he lets you go. He doesn’t have the typical callouses, you even have a few.

“How’d you get into this work?” he wonders.

“It’s work. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t– I don’t mean anything,” he stammers.

“Didn’t think you did,” you sniff, “so, what am I looking at?”

“Well, I don’t really know,” he reaches back to rub his neck. The power keeps… flickering.”

“Ah, been a while, probably just need to wait for it to stabilize. City worker came out months ago for the meters,” you explain.

“Right, well, I heard sizzling.”

“Show me where you heard it.”

He nods and gestures you towards the door. Before you can reach it, he pulls the wooden screen door back and waits for you to enter ahead of him. He tells you it’s just down the hall and stop you near the basement door. You peer down the stairs and flick the light switch. There’s a low buzz.

“I don’t think you need to worry about it,” you look up, “but I can have a look.”

“Oh, okay,” he utters, “I also had another question. You might know something about it.”

You look at him. He seems put off by your expressionless stare.

“I wanted to install an automatic opener in the garage…”

“I can do the wiring, sure, long as you buy the parts,” you answer. “I can give you recommendations, odds are, you’ll need a whole new door as well.”

“Sure,” he agrees uneasily.

“Can schedule an appointment when you decide,” you turn your palm out, “I’ll just go grab my ladder and have a look then.”

You go to step past him but he’s not quick enough. You nearly collide and find yourself moving back and forth with him, trying to get by. You stop and stare. He stills himself and turns sideways, waving you by. You pass and let out a slow breath through your nose.

You stalk back down the hall and onto the porch. You hear him following you. You come down the steps as he continues his close pursuit. You don’t exactly know what he’s doing but you won’t ask. Cole says you need to work on customer service and not tell people to get out of your way.

You go around the bed of the truck and open the back. You reach for the ladder but another arm stretches further and faster. He pulls the ladder out before you can and you step back with a grunt.

“Hey, I can get it,” you insist.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind helping.”

“So why am I here?” You ask curtly, immediately knowing you asked a bad question.

“Sorry, I was just… being nice,” he says.

“Right,” you try to soften your tone, “it’s just… it’s my job. I can carry the ladder.”

“I know you can,” he looks down at you and you feel even smaller. You don’t like it when they try to play gentleman, it’s condescending. You might be short but you’re strong enough.

“Thanks,” you grab the ladder and yank it from his grasp.

He lets go and you continue past him. He huffs and follows a few paces back from the end of the ladder. You angle it up the steps.

“At least let me get the door,” he inches past you, “okay?”

“Thanks,” you repeat in the same even keel.

You enter and take the ladder down the hall. He hovers just down the hallway, watching as he shifts his weight between his feet. He’s the worst kind of customer, the kind that have to supervise.

You step up the ladder and look past it. “Mind holding it?”

“You sure?” He gives a trite arch of his brow.

You blink and keep your eyes from rolling, “I’d appreciate it, sir.”

He comes forward and braces the ladder staunchly. You climb up and suppress a snarl. City folk think you’re all backwards out here but they can’t wrap their damn head around a woman with a brain.

#andy barber #cole turner #dark andy barber #dark cole turner #dark!andy barber #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #andy barber x reader #drabble #backwoods au #au #crossed wires #defending jacob #series #ghosted

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