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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 4 months

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Competition: knight!price x princess!reader

I have to thank @konig-is-bbygrl for helping me come up with the idea for this part. Thank you love!!

Price was used to being around nobles and royals.

It was his entire life, especially because he was tasked to be your personal bodyguard for nearly half his life now. He had gotten used to their delusions, to the fact that most of them are disconnected to the people they rule over, and their snobbish behavior.

What he was not used to was the fact that there were many people vying for your affection often, which meant he had to be around desperate lords and princes who made fools of themselves around you just to get you to look at them.

He cringed at their failed attempts to woo you. Their flowery words mean nothing, especially when many of them are throwing themselves at other ladies who are in their kingdom or towns when you inevitably turn them down.

He couldn’t quite understand why he found it so annoying. Maybe it was the fake devotion and empty gestures they gave that looked more like an insult to you, something he didn’t understand why you let happen, or maybe it was the fact that he knew you personally.

The lords and princes wouldn’t try for your hand if they knew who you were behind closed doors. They didn’t know who you were when he didn’t let you spend time by yourself or when you were forced to do your studies.

Or maybe, in his best judgment, they were so far beneath you that they didn’t deserve you at all. You were so much more than them, more elegant, too beautiful for them, they were not worthy as opposed to-

“You are awfully quiet, Sir John.” You spoke and brought him out of his thoughts.

Price grimaced as he spotted the flowers in your hands, no doubt from the current lords who were preparing for the jousting tournament.

An attempt by the Queen to find a proper suitor for you, something she has been adamant about doing as of late.

“What is there to say?” He grumbled and you raised an amused eyebrow.

“My, you are incredibly ornery this afternoon.” You teased and he sent you a sharp look. “Are you upset that you’re not down there?”

He glanced down from the raised platform you and the Queen sat upon above the tournament floor. Two lords were preparing, both of them too scrawny for this type of sport, too soft and not at all in their element.

It wouldn’t even be entertaining to watch.

“Why would I compete for your hand, your highness?” He wondered. “I’m already bound to you by oath and know the unfortunate fate of that.”

“The lords wouldn’t say the same.” You shot back and he watched them mount their horses.

“I’m not inclined to believe anything that falls out of their mouths.”

The lords were quick in the competition. To anyone else, their fancy swings were entertaining but to Price they were unpracticed.

He glanced at you to see if you were entertained and noticed the boredom in your eyes. He hid his smile, knowing that if it were him or his men, you’d be entertained.

The lord that won bowed to the crowd and flaunted, earning a scowl from both you and the Queen. A bad look.

“Perfect for you, your highness.” Price teased and you sent him a look.

“He’s handsome, yes.” You ignored him and he looked at the lord.

Handsome was generous, he looked rather plain to Price.

The lord walked up to you, a prideful look on his face, and gave a gaudy bow. It took everything in Price to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“Your highness, your majesty, I thank you for this opportunity.” He said as he stood up straighter. “If it’s too much to ask, I would be honored to join you for dinner.”

“Before that, perhaps you’d like to show your skills again for us.” The Queen spoke and his face fell. “To see you win against my best knight would surely make dinner worth it.”

Price stiffened up but said nothing. The lord looked nervous while you had an unreadable look on your face.

“As you wish, your majesty.” Price bowed and made his way towards the ring.

He missed the sickly sweet words that fell from the lord’s mouth, the near pleading eyes as he spoke to you and the way you tensed up at the lack of preparation for someone so pushy.

However, he didn’t miss you giving the lord your handkerchief, of all things, as he grabbed the lance.

A spike of anger he didn’t understand rushed through him. You showed no signs of wanting the lord yet you gave him something of yours? Did you despise Price that much? Did you want him to lose that bad?

Price wasn’t one to gloat, in fact he hated it and would much rather let his skills show through action, but anyone knew that he could beat the lord easily without much straining.

You knew that too and yet you gave the pompous, worthless man your attention as if he deserved it.

Price kept his composure and didn’t break a sweat at defeating the lord almost instantly. He didn’t pay attention to the roars of cheers from everyone, especially from his own men, or the cries from the lord as he laid haunches over on the dirt.

Instead his attention was on you. He’s not sure what he expected from you but the looked of horror on your face wounded his pride a little more than he wanted.

It didn’t matter. The lord wouldn’t have your hand.

Price made his way back to you and you wasted no time in arguing with him.

“Were you trying to kill him?” You exclaimed and he raised an eyebrow.

“I was light on him. He couldn’t handle it because of who he is.” He argued and you stared at him in shock.

It was the truth. If he had been against any of his men they would’ve laughed at him for that type of treatment.

Just another testament of how the lord wasn’t a good fit and that you had made a mistake to give him something of yours.

“You should be happy. A princess who’s loose with her affections shouldn’t be vied for.” He spat and watched you glare at him in disbelief.

“You’re barbaric, someone as cruel as you should never win someone’s hand.” You curled your hands into fists and he huffed.

“It was Her Majesty who wished for me to compete, I have no desire to win you over.”

You opened your mouth to argue more before the Queen approached you both. In an instant, you both composed yourselves as best as you could, though neither do you could hide the anger you had for each other.

The Queen ignored it in favor of giving Price an approving look.

“Sir John, an excellent performance.” She complimented and he gave her a polite nod. She turned to you. “You’ll be fine without him for a few moments while I discuss the lords with you?”

“Happily.” You said from behind your teeth.

“Thank you, your majesty.” He bowed and watched you walk away with your mother.

Was he cruel? He wouldn’t say he was and yet that seemed to be all you saw him as.

He didn’t like the way that made his stomach churn.

A/n: jealous price anyone? didn’t mean to make this as long as it was oops lol

@deadbranch @makayla-666

#knight!price #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #price mw2 #price mw3 #princess!reader

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urdepressedslut · 9 months

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You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part nine❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: After the events from the other day, you try and cope with the reality of what happened. The world is a lot less colorful than you remember. Bucky helps comfort you after you realize you have no one left.

♡ Warnings: heavy angst, flashbacks, abuse, mentions of parent death, hints to depression, reader doesn't know she has depression, anxiety attacks

Series Masterlist

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

Italics are flashbacks

“I don’t know… I kinda like shirts that don’t hug me too tight.” You mumbled, scratching the back of your neck.

You heard a dramatic gasp, and you looked into her eyes as she shook her head, holding up the top she had been trying to convince you to buy.

“Babygirl— why can’t you see how gorgeous you are. Anything you wear, you’d make look like a million bucks.” You Mother almost whined, and you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips from her antics.

“Ma you know that’s not true.” You argued, failing at keeping a serious expression.

“No baby— I know I’m right. That’s my secret.” She argues back confidently.

She walked closer and started combing stray hairs out of your eyes, smiling at you adoringly as she did so. Her eyes practically sparkled with love.

“What’s your secret Ma?” You asked quietly, leaning into your Mother’s delicate touch.

She cupped your chin and raised your face to her lips, the feeling of her pecking your forehead sweetly. The gesture made you all warm inside— her love filling you with so much protection.

“Mommies never lie. So you really are beautiful baby— and soon you’ll start to see that, and you’ll be breaking hearts left and right.” She spoke quietly to you.

“I won’t be breaking any hearts… because that means I’ll have to date people and well… that’s scary.” You admitted.

Your Mother lifted your chin back up, giving you another loving kiss on your forehead, stroking your cheek as if you were fragile and needed to be protected. In her eyes— you were her everything. Her little girl— she only wished you could live your life without any pain. She knew life wasn’t that perfect— but she’d do anything for her baby. She’s try as hard as she could to make her life perfect. She deserved it.

“It is scary baby, but if you never put yourself out there— you may never have the chance to meet people.” She cooed. “We learn a lot from everyone we meet, and if you don’t meet anyone— you won’t learn anything. It helps us grow into being a better person.”

You nodded in understanding, feeling comforted by her words. She believed that you could do it, so you started to believe you could. Your Mother truly did know best— she’d never put you in a bad situation. As much as you hated to admit it, she was almost always right.

“You’re so smart Ma. I’m glad I've got a Mama as good as you around.” You whispered as you hugged her tightly— forgetting that you were at the mall.

Her laugh vibrated through her chest as your head lay against her heart.

“You know your compliments always go straight to my head.” She joked and you snorted and playfully hit her hip.

“I’ll take it back.” You playfully warned.

“Please don’t— we were having such a nice moment.” She whined dramatically and you both went into a laughing fit.

The air was so cool— so breathable. Your limbs felt relaxed, your mind was at ease. Everything was so much easier with your Mother around, she truly was the light of your life.

"Okay, I'll get it." You finally gave in, pointing to the shirt that was hanging off her arm.

Your Mother eyes brightened and she smiled like the chesire cat, almost starting to jump up and down like a little kid. You forgot who was the older one sometimes. You just watched with a giggle.

"That's my girl." She ruffled your hair and headed towards the cashier.

You watched her walk away, happy that you could make her happy. Although the top wasn't what you'd usually wear— maybe your Mother was right. It was time to get out of your comfort zone— plus she was never wrong.

You cracked your eyes open at the sound of rain hitting your window, the peaceful ambience of a storm passing over the house. You let out a deep breath, a heavy feeling left sitting on your chest— the bittersweet memory still fresh in your mind. It was sweet because even the memory of your Mother could fill your body with the joy that you had been missing from life. Although it was bitter because they were only memories. Instead of staying in the moment with her, you were forced to be sent back into reality. Back to a world where she wasn't around anymore. That was the most painful realization you had to live through every day.

The days since her passing had been the same, but it was slightly different this time around. You were almost positive that because of the relationship between you and your Father was getting worse— had you desperately wishing to have your Mother back.

You wondered if it would've been easier to never know parental love, then live most of your life with it— then to not have it.

You hadn’t realized you had slept through the night, misjudging how exhausted your kind and body was. There was just a slight glow from outside, otherwise the sky was cloudy— the weather gloomy. The outside was currently how you felt, it seemed.

Glancing around the room, there was no sign of him. Which was the second thing that had come to your mind this morning. Bucky.

Pushing that thought to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of your bed— heading towards the bathroom. Your head felt heavy, your limbs feeling like there were wights tied to them. You overall felt like the walk to the bathroom was much harder than it should’ve been. You had hoped that a nights rest would ease the haze that covered your brain. But as you walked to the bathroom— you could still sense the thick fog within your head.

Switching on the light, you headed straight for the mirror without giving it much thought. You’d be lying if you said your reflection didn’t startle you. In fact the harder you looked— you doubted that was actually you.

Your eyes were puffy, red rimmed as they were the night before. Your lips were chapped, achey with how dry they were. All in all— it was the still irritated skin on your cheek that had you in shock. The palm sized mark had you staring without blinking— your breathing starting to come in rapidly. Almost instantly, the events from the night before began to play through your mind.

"You wonder why I don't want you around— do you not see how you act? Disrespectful fucking brat! I do all these nice things for you— I buy you a fucking house! I provide you with everything you need!"

The memory of his hand shooting towards your face had you flinching back in the space of your bathroom. The action startling you from just remembering.

You furrowed your brows, staring at your reflection in confusion. Puzzled at your body's reaction— the way you had jumped. Even though you were alone in the bathroom— you felt embarrassed. Your hand shot down to grip your thigh, squeezing the flesh until you could start to feel pain. Your nose burned again, your chest tight and uncomfortable— unable to expand fully. You gasped, almost breaking from this trance as you released your thigh— glancing down frantically at the now red and irritated skin. Your head felt fuzzy as you couldn't understand why you were acting like this. You felt like you were out of control of your body— your mind. You wiped your face harshly, drying your skin of any tears— any evidence that you had been a mess.

Without wasting another second, you headed from the bathroom and made your way downstairs— in search of Bucky.

Bucky had made himself comfortable in the grand office downstairs. The room seemingly untouched, obvious that you didn’t care for this room. That much didn’t surprise him. But what did shock him— was the stash of liquor that was kept inside the study.

Surely that wasn’t yours. He thought to himself.

He had sat by your bedside, guarding the room as you slept for awhile. After you started to mumble in your sleep— that’s when he decided to leave. He knew you’d want him to be there when you woke, but the words about your Mother escaping your lips seemed private. It felt wrong to over hear such information while you were unconscious.

He also just needed to excuse himself, needing to drown his thoughts with alcohol for awhile. His career let alone his life— was in jeopardy.

He didn’t want to fear Pierce— but he couldn’t stop the overwhelming waves of anxiety from crashing into him. Amongst everything else, you stuck out in his thoughts. Majority of his worries circled around you, the concerns about you being left alone— with Pierce. If it wasn’t his life he was worried about, it was you. He was only afraid of the outcome because if there was no him— he wouldn’t be able to protect you.

It continued to eat away at him— he knew he should do something. He let the thought pass by… I should run.

He raised the glass, downing the rest of the contents— enjoying the burn on his throat as he scoffed at the cowardly thought.

He’d would run for you… with you.

He stared at the empty glass as he attempted to digest the idea. Knowing deep down he wouldn’t be able to make a proper decision without talking with you.

“James?” You called out, grabbing his attention to the doorway.

You didn’t even attempt to send him one of your usual warm smiles, instead glancing around the room you completely forgot existed. For good reason.

“What are you doing in here?” You asked, but soon found your answer when you let your eyes drop to the bottles of liquor surrounding his empty glass. “It’s early.”

You pointed out, and Bucky lowered his gaze for a moment in shame before lifting his eyes to your face again. This was when he noticed how different you looked.

It was the little, subtle changes that no one else could distinguish. But he could— he could see it clear as day, and it broke his heart.

Your eyes were dull, missing the usual sparkle in them. Your face just seemed like it was longer, the way you didn’t even try to keep a smile on your face. He didn’t think he’d ever seen you so… not you. Lastly, what killed him the most— was the way you were standing. The way you were trying to seem so small, like you could be small enough to hide away from everyone.

“James?” You called again, breaking him from his analysis of you. It was then he realized he hadn’t responded.

“Uh… yeah guess I’m just a little stressed out.” He finally told you, not completely lying.

“You shouldn’t do that— it can cause a lot of issues.” You motioned towards the alcohol.

“I know.” He mumbled, lowering his gaze to the desk again.

“You should just talk to me, instead of drinking until you pass out.” You told him softly.

“I can hold my liquor well.” He tried to argue, glancing up and sending you a smirk.

You just shook your head, crossing your arms like you were a mom scolding her kid.

“I don’t care. You should still talk to me.” You told him sternly.

He couldn’t ignore the shock in your change in demeanor. Of course you’d be in a different mood from the events last night— but he wasn’t used to this solemn version of you yet.

“Okay.” He agreed finally, standing up to head towards another room— preferably one that didn’t hold as much negativity as this one.

You surprised him by reaching out to take his hand, holding it tightly in yours. You didn’t give him a second to show his shock— instead you held on, tugging him towards the direction of the library.

He hadn’t even talked with you yet, but somehow he already felt lighter— in a better mood. Just by your presence, let alone your touch— was enough.

Making your way through the library— hand in hand— you didn’t slow until you reached your spot. The same spot from the very first introduction you two shared. One that didn’t have that good of an ending.

The memory although had a sour end, you still looked back and wanted to smile. You two had no idea what was coming— so naive. Like you said— it almost made you want to smile. Almost.

“James, why are you drinking this early in the morning? I know you’ve got something on your mind.” You started, as soon as you two sat down in your spots.

He rolled his eyes, avoiding your stare. He knew you were right, but also he just didn’t want to have this talk. Though— he knew it needed to happen. He just wished he could have one more care free day. He hated himself for not enjoying them while they lasted.

“Doll, we know what’s going to happen.” He voiced lowly, body and mind defeated.

You flashed a fearful expression before attempting to harden your features back.

“What do you mean?” You asked him cautiously.

“I spoke wrongly to your Father— everything that happened yesterday… you know how this ends for me.” He hinted, hoping you’d understand.

You shook your head, while still glancing at him with a softened expression. You don’t think you’d ever seen Bucky so stressed, his face stuck in a concerned expression.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“(Y/n)… your Father doesn’t give a shit about me! For all I know— he probably has a new bodyguard ready for you. I’ll be as good as gone soon!” He exclaimed, voice raising— but it was Bucky. You weren’t afraid of him like you were your Father.

“Nothing is going to happen to you— I’ll make sure of it.” You promised him, and for a second he paused and looked at you deeply.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his seat with a frustrated huff.

“I don’t really care what happens to me… I just don’t wanna leave you. I can’t… I can’t let him keep doing this to you.” He whispered, lowering his head— his emotions stealing his voice.

You felt your heart start to beat faster, the same butterflies fluttering around your stomach once more. Every time he protected you, made an effort to want to be with you— it had you speechless. You never knew you could find something like this again. After your Mother had passed— you thought the feeling was lost.

“We should run.” He spoke again, breaking the thick silence that had blanketed the room.

You swallowed at that suggestion, wondering why a small part of you still didn’t want to leave your Father. Although he had proved to really not care about you— love you. You still loved him. He was all you had left.

But maybe that wasn’t true anymore, here was Bucky sitting in front of you— willing to risk his life just so you could live your happy ending.

“Where will we go?” You spoke back finally, shocking him that you wanted to go along with it.

As he stared into your eyes, his stomach rolled sickeningly at the fear that was evident in your eyes. But it wasn’t fear for yourself— it was for him.

“Somewhere far away— somewhere he won’t find you. I have a few places in mind… but are you really willing to do this? Leave your home?” He asked, happy that you were on board— but still wanted to respect your decision.

You immediately thought of that one cheesy quote you’d read somewhere— not necessarily believing it until now. Home can be a person too.

You felt your nose burn, tears welling into your eyes and this time you didn’t fight it. Everything had been building ever since you’d woken up. The only place you felt safe wasn’t even your home anymore— it was him.

“This place doesn’t really feel like home anymore so… yeah I’m ready.” You admitted, your voice getting quiet by the end.

Bucky’s hand twitched on his thigh, the way his instinct was to touch you— to comfort you. He fought against the side of him that itched to jump over to you, instead he stayed rooted at his spot.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.” He started, not knowing if you were mentally ready to handle this. “Your Father has been keeping this from you for awhile, and he had asked me to keep it from you as well but— you deserve to know. I wanted to tell you so many times I just— I should’ve told you… so I’m sorry.”

You got up from your seat and plopped down next to him, not hesitating to reach out and take his metal hand in your two. Your held it comfortably while also using the metal ridges to fidget with.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about what you should’ve done— you’re telling me now. That’s all that matters, so I appreciate that.” You assured him, scooting even closer so that your thighs were touching.

“Someone’s been stalking you (Y/n).” He finally confessed, and almost immediately he could feel the weight being lifted off his chest.

You didn’t speak for awhile, just staring at him like you weren’t sure if you imagined him saying those words. Your brain was having a hard time processing what he had said— someone was stalking you? You were disturbed, your skin crawling with fear. One thing stuck out to you the most— it was the fact that your Father had yet to tell you.

Bucky took your silence as a bad sign, watching you stare blankly at your lap, where your fidgeting hands stilled on his metal one. It was his turn to wrap his metal hand around your wrist, applying a gentle amount of pressure to try and get your attention.

“(Y/n)?” He asked softly, growing more worried the longer you stayed quiet.

You still didn’t know what you were feeling, it was hard to distinguish it when you were already overwhelmed with emotions today. Your brain felt burnt out— your mind wanting to shut off completely.

“How long?” You whispered, still staring at your lap.

“Awhile, and they’ve gotten close. They have left stuff on your doorstep— and I found it before you could see it.” He told you, watching you shiver from the information. “They found your Mother’s necklace in one of the boxes that was dropped off at your door.”

That had gotten your attention, your head snapping up to his— your eyes wide with horror. You immediately started shaking your head in denial, knowing where this was going. You felt like you were gonna be sick, so you tried to swallow back the bile from rising.

“No… No I— I know what you’re going to say! My Mother died from a car accident. That’s how she died.” You rushed out, your vision blurring with tears.

“(Y/n) I’m not saying whoever is stalking you was involved with her passing— I’m just saying that there’s something darker to this than anyone knows.” He assured you, watching you nod in understanding.

His heart hurt watching your body start to tremble, your bottom lip quivering.

“Do you have it?” You whispered ever so quietly.

“What?” Bucky asked suddenly, confused.

You faced him, grabbing onto both his hands now— needing him to ground you from spiraling. Bucky had to hold in the gasp that wanted to escape, from how close you appeared to be.

“Do you have the necklace?” You asked desperately, voice cracking, “My Father he… he wouldn’t let me keep any of my Mothers things.”

Bucky’s heart broke again, his eyes softening at your broken expression. The way you were trembling holding onto him, your eyes red rimmed and lost looking. He had never held such hatred for someone before— fucking Pierce.

“Doll, I’m sorry— he has it.”

You nodded in understanding but couldn’t hold back the new wave of tears. You didn’t hesitate, and threw yourself into his arms. Wrapping your arms right around his middle, feeling the bulky muscles flex through his clothes.

He didn’t waste anytime and engulfed you in his protective embrace. He willed himself to stay strong— for you. But your cries and shakes of your body were killing him, he swore he was feeling physical pain from it all. He wanted to take it all away— all your pain.

Both your legs hung off to the side, while you practically were sitting in his lap. But neither of you cared— yes, it was intimate. But it was intimate in a different way, you both clung onto each other— escaping for a little while just in each others embrace. Being so close now, feeling each other pressed up on another— it felt right. It felt like home.

You felt one of his hands lift to the back of your head, cradling your head as his metal fingers weaves through your hair— just slightly scratching your scalp. You could feel yourself melt further into him. Your body sagging into him.

“I’ve got you (Y/n), I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered soothingly.

“I wanna hate him.” You whimpered, your fists fisting in his shirt.

His heart clenched painfully, hating that there was nothing he could do besides be here for you at the moment. But every cry and whimper only convinced him further that he was doing the right thing— the right thing by running away with you.

“Does that make me a bad person— that I wanna hate him? I want to but… but I can’t!” You cried.

Bucky shook his head, before he realized you couldn’t see him. He pulled you back away from him so he could face you— that was also when he noticed how close you were to him.

“No it doesn’t. He hasn’t been a Father to you. He hurt you— It’s okay to wanna hate him.” He assured you.

He held your gaze, waiting until you nodded to make sure you understood what you were feeling was valid.

“I really wanna hate him…” You whimpered again, trying to lower your eyes but you knew Bucky wouldn’t allow it.

He didn’t know if there was anything he could say to truly make you feel better, but he hoped that his comforting embrace was helping. Little did you know— your tight hold on him was ridding him of any and all stress.

“I know (Y/n), I know.” He breathed out.

Before he could stop himself, he was lifting his hand to stroke his thumb across her cheek— letting his palm rest on your jaw.

Your eyes fluttered shut from his touch for a second, before they opened and gazed deeply into his. His eyes shined with something unusual— something you had yet to see coming from his eyes. You felt intimidated from the intensity that was his gaze— the way your stomach fluttered nervously. You felt the same urge as before, your body leaning instinctively closer to him— you felt so safe in his arms, you couldn't help yourself from wanting to sink deeper into the ocean that was him.

"(Y/n)..." His voice broke through your trance, "Maybe we shouldn't."

God he wanted to slap himself for even voicing those words, because he so badly wanted to devour you whole— loosen every thread that was tied on you— unlocking every inch and part of you that he didn't know he craved. But the sensible side of him knew it wasn't the right moment... right?

You were so vulnerable, it felt wrong for him to even steal a glance in the wrong way when your walls were crumbled before him. He didn't want you to think for even a second that he was taking advantage of you. He respected you greatly, and he was not going to allow himself to have no self restraint. He wanted you to be in full control— and even then he felt hesitant to let you continue. The kiss on his cheek from before, he felt he hadn't deserved that— earned that. He was greedy however— and took any breadcrumbs he could.

You only darted your eyes down to his lips, watching his tongue poke out to wet them— your eyes watching the pink dampen the plump flesh. You found yourself biting your own lip— a sudden craving intensifying at the sight.

Despite your desires, you leaned forward and placed another kiss to his stubbled cheek— this time letting your lips linger on the skin longer than the last. Bucky could feel the heat rush to his face, knowing his cheeks were most likely bright red. He didn't know how he held so much power, but the feel of your lips against his cheek— god he wanted to kiss you so badly.

You sent him a small smile, and he could almost see the real you finally coming to light. The sight had his heart swelling, his own lips curving up in a cheerful smile— relived to see his girl coming back.

"Thank you James— I don't know what I'd do without you." You whispered, holding his gaze with hidden devotion. "I need you."

He had to fight back the huge smile he felt approaching from your words— he tried to ignore the bubbling joy he felt from your words. The way you needed him just as he needed you.

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 2 months

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A Spark To Ignite (Bodyguard!141 x Famous!Reader Preferences) Mild NSFW

Summary: You see each other every day. He works to keep you protected - a perk of your job and his. Occasionally feeling moments of passion and promises of something more between you two are only normal, right?

AN: I've got another bodyguard!AU for the 141 that's more angst based. I'll post that later. I've also got a Price x Escort!Reader in the works plus the end of "Star-crossed in the Crosshairs". Let me know if you have any requests/anything you'd rather see first <3

Content warning: Minors DNI, 18+ only, allusions to sexual tension/arousal, second person, no use of Y/N

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Another notification of being tagged in the same paparazzi image hit your notification inbox, yet you still opened it and shared a giddy grin at the Instagram feed.

You hadn’t been fussed about going running; it was the company rather than the activity that attracted you. But one thing you were certain about the sport was that no one ever looked flattering whilst doing it.

Yet there he was, your Kyle, looking like a model for Sports Direct. He was snapped midstride, his biceps practically rippling in the glow of the morning sun. There was even a hint of his lean washboard torso with the flap of his t-shirt’s raised coyly.

However, his dimpled smile aimed was the main focus of the headline – mainly because it was aimed at you and your equally elated expression. You blamed the euphoria of exercised endorphins but the way the photo was framed (plus the gaudy text declaring it so) made it seem as if you and Kyle were a true couple in love. It looked incredibly staged. Kyle was an “unknown” though so most budding theorists did not support any claims of it being a publicity stunt. Just two lovers out on a jaunty little run together.

You saved then added the photo to the folder of photos that captured you out with your bodyguard and the headlines that (sadly) misidentified him as your new boyfriend.

“Hey Kyle!”

Blending some fruits. His duties did not include head chef but you had long since allowed him access to your kitchen, even storing some of his favourites around the cupboards and fridge in case he fancied a snack.

Your phone was thrust up into his eyeline, you beaming behind it, “Another Pulitzer.”

Abandoning his smoothie temporarily, Kyle cupped his hand around yours to steady your swaying phone.

“They need to up their standards. Taking you for a jog is hardly a date you deserve,” He commented.

“Ooo, do tell: what do I deserve?”

“Well,” Kyle began pouring the smoothie into a glass, “I could go classic, take you to out on the town to a special place only I know about.”

You leaned onto your elbows, chin resting in your palms, cheeks creased in a cheeky smile. “Mm-hmm.”

“Wine you, dine you, treat you like a deity,” Kyle said as if he was listing off menial tasks on his day to day whilst collecting another glass for the remaining smoothie. “Take you back to mine if you fancied it, another drink whilst we talk the night away and time passing without us noticing.” Graciously, he slid the other one across the countertop, and your fingers locked against his warm ones wrapped against the cool glass. “Then work up a sweat in a whole other way.”

Blinking away the glaze that had coated your eyes, you restrained the urge to gulp back your desire. A fresh breath in your lungs recovered you quickly and you managed to conjure a teasing quip amidst the fog that had settled over your thoughts.

“Think you could keep up with me?” You said before sipping the smoothie.

The sweetness of it countered Kyle’s smirking reply: “You and I both know I can more than handle you.”

“Better train harder then,” You said, proud of yourself for not stumbling over your playful banter, “I’m a catch, so you better be fast enough.”

“Jog, same time tomorrow?”

“Sure.” And, not missing in the reflection of the oven door how Kyle – for a split second – looked you up and down, you did your best not to collapse or squeal during your return to the sitting room.

-----------

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You leant against the ropes of the new boxing ring with a panting chest and aching legs. Jellied bones dared to let you collapse to the ground but at least, since your self-defence training had begun, you were lasting the full session rather than just after the warm-up.

“I think we’re done for today! Did good, held your own.” Johnny gave you a hearty slap on your back that almost ricocheted you off the ropes. “I’ve still got a few reps to get in.” He leapt out the ring and swigged from his water bottle, tossing you your own.

“Show-off!” You called out after him, though all in good fun, as you caught your bottle and your breath.

Technically, since you didn’t have anything else to do, you could get a head-start on getting cleaned up. You were in the privacy of your own gym, added at your request so that Johnny could train you better and you could do so without being ogled or papped.

Quite hypocritical it was then, that you lingered in the ring to watch Johnny stack up his weights on either side of the bar (the ones you purchased as part of his perks of working for you).

Your day-job came in handy with pretending to do some cooldown stretches, sipping from and pouring your water bottle over yourself. Well, you were actually doing those things but acting as if they were the only things that occupied your thoughts was the main role you were playing. From the corner of your eye, you observed Johnny squatted with a stack of weights lining each shoulder. God, those arms were practically popping, his thighs bulging with the effort of remaining planted on the floor and folding up and down beneath the hefty set. Mesmerising, you forgot to keep up your pretence by the second load of reps.

It left your lips before you could reconsider for the tenth time: “Bet you couldn’t lift me.”

Soap paused in a deep squat and looked up through his lashes at you. Meeting his steely blue gaze was easier than anticipated but maintaining it as he righted himself and rested the weights back on the rack with a restrained grunt was the difficult part.

At first, you thought maybe his silence was his answer. Then Johnny knelt down and assumed the plank position.

“Get on,” He said, loud and clear.

You still doubted him, “Seriously?”

“You made the bet. Now lie in it.”

As elegantly as possible, you dismounted the ring before making your way over to his side. He showed no signs of tiredness during your journey, nor did he when you balanced yourself across his broad back.

“Ok, ready,” You said, your voice close to wobbling.

And so it began. Up and down, you could feel how his body sustained you through both your and his workout gear. His back muscles rippled beneath you and his elbows kissed yours each time he lowered you both to the floor. Out of nowhere, you began giggling and you couldn’t figure out how to put a stop to it. Giddiness flooded your entire system until you were beyond drunk.

Suddenly, your world tilted and you rolled off onto the mat but Johnny refused you any respite, flipping you over onto your back again, like a pancake.

“I win,” He panted, “What’s my prize?”

Still giggling, you felt your cheeks burning at the sight of him hovering over you, his skin glowing, his chest panting. His unrelenting stare had you locked beneath him, barred between his trunk-like arms. If this was your prison, you’d commit any offence to stay in there. God you were so close you could kiss him-

Nope.

“You finish your workout early so you can have a nice hot shower sooner?” You said, covering your mouth to cough and clear your airways of whatever shit you breathed in to make you even consider making out with your bodyguard. You must’ve looked so daft; you blamed the endorphins. Then you blamed Johnny completely as he started to laugh down at you, sending your thighs quaking as he crawled off you and ordered you to get cleaned up – that he’d be in shortly after as a hint to not use all the hot water. As you drifted back to the bathroom, you tried not to think about him in the shower or how you wanted to offer to scrub him down.

-----------

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Say the word and I’ll have him removed.”

For a man so stoic and intimidating, Simon sure made you smile a lot. You needed it after that… “interesting” conversation with one of the party’s guests – someone who you knew to be a detractor behind your back.

“It’s fine, really,” You insisted with a winning smile.

Casting a glance over your shoulder where your shadow dutifully remained was a reward you would never be exhausted of. Simon looked so good in his tux. Plus he’d humoured you and worn the silk black mask rather than his usual. You were brimming with privilege at seeing his hair styled beyond the flattened fuzz it would take on after being beneath the balaclava for twenty hours at a time. Even more so, you got to see his tattoos pairing nicely with them like a good bottle of wine.

You could hear the smirk hiding beneath his mask. His veined hands clasped firmly in front of him as he leant close, just his mask separating his lips and your ear.

“We could make a break for it. Ditch these twats. Get a drive-thru.”

He knew you never would agree to it; this gala meant a lot to you. Such a tempting offer though, in such a tempting voice too. His rough tone did nothing but delight you when you heard it. Turning to look at him, you took note of the two mere inches between your face and his.

He continued, “You’ve shown your face long enough.”

“Getting jealous of them stealing my attention?” You asked provocatively.

Simon let out a low laugh, shaking his head fondly with just a hint of patronising, “That’s funny, sweetheart.”

“Well, I’m sure there are plenty of people who are dying to still talk to me.” You gestured with the glass he’d gotten (and checked for any malicious interference) for you around at the room, those who would never have the privilege of being a part of your and Simon’s bubble.

“Just as long as you and everyone else knows that I’m the one who takes you home.”

The implications of that statement swelled in your chest, nestling into your heart like a cat in a warm patch of sunlight. Intently, he looked at your face for your reaction. That was the thing with Simon: always observing, recording every flicker, every possibility in that incredible mind of his. You were certain he could see into your soul with those all-seeing eyes. He kept you safe, kept you on your toes, kept you happy.

But the bubble burst before you could hit back and you abruptly checked yourself back into work mode. The person who’d spoken loud enough to bring you back down to Earth didn’t seem to notice your slip up. You, however, were more than acutely aware of Simon’s lingering presence at your side. So close the hairs on your arm extended on goosebumps, coaxing and begging to touch him.

As you were once again left alone, you found yourself stifled by your need to be nearer to Simon and quickly decided the alcohol was to blame. “I need the bathroom.”

“This way.” His hand grazing the small of your back had an impact tripled, but you managed to submit it to travelling through your nose, rather than gasping out your mouth. But you were certain that Simon had caught you. He never missed a thing.

-----------

John "Bravo Six" Price

After shaking hands again with the presenter and declaring a few thanks to the crew, you were guided straight to the dressing room by Price. You took off your own microphone and handed it to him, which he immediately passed to a nervous stagehand. Your name in Arial font on an A4 sheet of paper greeted you from the dressing room door.

Sometimes you needed that extra time to decompress and he knew before you did more often than not. Today was not one of those days, though you did request to stop and pick up the bouquet that had been there to welcome you in when you first arrived. It was so large, your favourites blooming in the dew-dropped cellophane, that you had trouble waving to the folks who’d stuck around at the barrier, Price’s arms keeping you walking and guiding you towards the car.

For your safety, you had to go in the back where the tinted windows offered you a hint of privacy. It was a thorn in your side though. You longed to sit beside Price as he fought playfully with you over the music, grumbled with the directions his phone offered, collected your drive-in order. Then maybe your daydream of being his partner could have a little more to stand on.

A true gentleman as well as your protector, Price walked you up to the house and let you set up your evening meal while he made final checks to secure your house again. Normality for you was hearing him walk around and jiggle door handles and returning only when he was certain none had been tampered with and your cameras were fully functioning.

“Anything else you need from me before I leave for the night?” He asked, standing at ease in front of you.

You gestured to the bouquet you were cradling like a baby, “Thank you for the flowers.”

His brows furrowed for a split second then a sheepish smile smoothed out the lines in his forehead, highlighting his eyes instead.

“You caught me,” He said quietly, sparing a look at the flowers he asked the host to order for you, then back at you.

Squinting mischievously, you asked, “Were you really hiding it?”

“I suppose not.” He let his smile soften and dull. Back to business. Yet you could’ve sworn he glanced at your mouth before he asked, “Anything else you need?”

Your heart yearned to beg him to stay and tell you what else he did behind the scenes without a hint of expecting more, so that you could show him how much you cared in an appropriately equal response. His favourite whiskey perhaps for when he was off duty, or one day doing something together that he wanted to do so it wasn’t just looking after you. It was more than that, the job. He’d told you so. But you didn’t want to just be a job to him.

Quietly, you maintained your decorum, “No, thank you.”

John nodded his head, “Of course.”

It was as he was about to cross the threshold when you started to ask, “Do you-”

Not even three words made it out before Price whipped around, already returning to where he’d stood before. You could feel your lungs struggling under the strain of maintaining steady breathing at the gesture, suspending all the blood in your face (and maybe your groin). It stopped your question in its path, as if it was waiting until Price was listening attentively (he always was for you).

“Yes?” He prompted, his voice soft as if to coax you out of your hideout.

Fidgeting with the bouquet still, you cleared your throat and began again, “Do you want to join me, for dinner?”

Price’s hands, now at his sides, tapped on his thighs thrice before he said, “Two conditions.”

“Name them.”

Perhaps you said that a little too quickly because it made him laugh, which only made things worse for you. You had a real weakness for that laugh.

“You teach me whatever you’re planning on making, and you let me help you make it.”

Your heart accelerated and you dismissed his with a smile and a slight self-deprecating remark to soften the weight of this decision you were both making: “It’s nothing special.”

“Those are my terms,” Price insisted. His eyes creased as a smile grew on his face, more beautiful than the flowers forgotten the second you placed them into the vase. But at least it gave you to excuse to look away and gather your expression into something more collected as you ordered him to go and wash his hands.

#kyle garrick fanfic #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish fanfic #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #ghost x reader #john price x reader #john price fanfic #captain john price x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #my writing #preferences #r: gn

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themotherofhorses · 8 months

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pairing: bodyguard!aemond targaryen x president's daughter!reader

warnings: explicit language. secret relationship. some sweet fluff. a highkey dark & obsessive aemond (as usual, that’s basically my brand). babytrapping. mentions of tiddy sucking but that’s rlly it.

notes: hi my little loves, long time no write. several months back, @welight-theway asked for a continuation of the bodyguard!aemond fic, so here it is! hope you enjoy it !! 🫶🏼

also im literally walking out the door as i post this, to walk the graduation stage and get my bachelor's hehe. 2nd gen college student over here 🥰

masterlist

As funny as it might sound, it was your breasts that tipped him off to the little one in your belly.

Sergeant Aemond One-Eye Targaryen is unashamedly a boob man — one so incredibly obsessed with your boobs, as much so as he is with the rest of your body, heart, and soul combined. He actually remembers this particular shirt (a low-cut halter top in his favorite color) you wore to a close friend’s birthday dinner; it looked absolutely stunning on you, showing off the perfect teasingly amount of cleavage that left his mouth watering and pants painfully tight. He helped you sneak out of the house with it, knowing that your father would’ve busted the vein in his forehead if he saw. It was three weeks into his new job as your personal bodyguard and four long years into his infatuation with you.

But that was around four months, and now he has you, and knows you — both inside and out.

So when your pretty face scrunches up in obvious discomfort when he sucks on your right boob and gnaws at your nipple, he is left raising an eyebrow. He has your boobs in his mouth all the time… the short hiss that soon follows between gritted teeth is a bit concerning as well. What is wrong, baby? he coos. It feels sore, you whine, hiding your face in his neck. Hurts too, daddy. Don’t like it. And you’re right, he realizes. Both your breasts and nipples appear more swollen than usual, puffy and tender, and maybe even … a bit plumper too?

Aemond thinks he has a faint grasp of what might be going on with his sweet girl.

He spends the following week eyeing your every movement around him, studying the way you walk and talk, eat and sleep, and how often you might visit the restroom. Frequent urination, odd food cravings, some complaints of minor backache here and there, and midday fatigue … when he googles ‘signs you might be pregnant’ later that evening, his suspicions are correct.

You are pregnant…with his baby. Oh. OH! Aemond is simply over the moon. He wants to cry and shout and pound his chest in happiness, manners and etiquette be damned. And he didn’t think it was actually possible, but he feels himself falling deeper in love with you, his mind constantly muddled with the sight of you fucked so full of him.

This … this is what you were made for, he knows — carrying all his babies, giving him the family he deserves.

“You’ve made me a daddy,” he mumbles against your stomach, careful not to stir you. You’re cuddled around a silk body pillow, exhausted from the four orgasms he gave you, fisting the sheets in a tight grip. “Good girl.” He then presses a tiny, feathery kiss above your belly button, gently dragging his lips across your soft skin, before closing his eyes. Aemond remembers a dreamlike fantasy he had around two years ago, back when he was stationed overseas at Ali Al Salem in Kuwait. He had been napping in an army tent, your picture clutched between his thumb and index finger.

(His favorite picture. Your father had posted it on Instagram as a birthday post; you were sitting at the dinner table with a strawberry shortcake cupcake centered in front of you, the 18-shaped candle poking out of the thick frosting.)

In his dream, you were his pretty little housewife, fingers laced together as you anxiously awaited your husband’s return. Once his laced-up combat boots stepped inside the American airport, you flung yourself into his arms, pleading with him never to leave you again. And he promised. Gods, did he promise. You were everything and more, how could he possibly neglect you again? He woke up only five minutes later, just when you were shyly spreading your legs open, and he was catching a glimpse of your wet cunt; he could’ve cursed the world and murdered someone at that moment.

Aemond almost wishes he could tell that younger sergeant that it’ll all be worth it. All that fucking fixation and hard work would play out in the end, and his ship would arrive at the right dock, and she’d be there to greet him.

Two months in, he notices all the small changes in your body. You’re none the wiser, of course, but your breasts are fuller, and your pretty face is carrying a new glow that shines along your cheekbones and smile. And the baby bump isn’t quite obvious yet, although that doesn’t stop his attention from constantly straying down to your tummy, in hopes of seeing something — anything — poke out. How could he not admire his beautiful and pregnant woman?

I know you’re in there, he sometimes thinks to himself, mostly in amusement. You might have fooled your mother, but not your daddy.

Three and a half weeks later, he kisses the tip of your nose and lips before whispering the news in your ear. Your head tilts in equal shock and confusion while your eyes widen and eyebrows furrow. “I’m…pregnant?” you breathe out. You then squint down, watching as your palm flattens across your lower belly. “Are… are you sure?”

He nods. “The signs are all there, baby.”

“What signs?”

“Remember when you were complaining about your breasts earlier?” You nod. He continues, “-sore and sensitive breasts are usually a sign of pregnancy. Haven’t you noticed that they’re a bit… fuller as well? Cup ‘em, baby, feel them.”

You do as he says, cupping your breasts. Around your nipples is a little tenderness that does hurt a bit, and they do fill out in your hands, but you didn’t think much of it before. You chalked it up to PMSing but now… now you’re left speechless, unable to process anything else but the fact you might actually be pregnant. Chuckling, Aemond rests his hands on your shoulders before pressing his forehead against yours. In his lone eye — both happiness and pride.

“I’m so sure of this… but if you’d like, just to be on the safe side, we can always have you take a pregnancy test.”

“Yeah!” you perk up. “Yeah…yeah, um, I think that is a good idea. Just to be positive, y’know.”

Aemond runs a quick trip to the local CVS, and forty-five minutes later, the pregnancy test displays two pink lines, side by side.

You’re pregnant with Aemond’s baby.

He’s completely overjoyed. You’re just trying to mentally plan out how to break the news to your father.

So it is quite hard to hide a swelling belly; this you learn throughout the next few months. You got lucky during the first trimester, having barely shown with some minor symptoms. But now halfway into your second trimester, there are only so many oversized sweaters and graphic t-shirts you can wear until it arouses suspicion.

But Aemond, he is simply so gentle and loving towards you, providing constant naked cuddles and belly strokes. He feels more like a husband than a lover, or even a retired decorated sergeant hired as your bodyguard.

You’re a bit worried about public reaction, and your father’s response to your unexpected pregnancy. Your father loves you so much, but at the end of the day, he is still your father, and you are his little girl. “What are the chances he might blacklist you?” you ask Aemond one afternoon, the two of you in the kitchen cooking lunch. “And send me to a nunnery in Switzerland?”

Aemond laughs. “Very unlikely, baby.”

“He’s going to be so upset…”

“It’ll be fine, quit worrying so much.”

“AEMOND!” you snap, bracing against the kitchen counter. Your temple falls into your hands, and you feel that sudden rush of stupid pregnancy hormones overcoming your thoughts. “It won’t be fine! Don’t you understand?! He’s going to hate me! HATE ME! He’s going to be so disappointed with me. I’m still young, in college, and unwedded. Can you imagine all the shit the public will say? All his political rivals, the media, people in school…”

I’m done. In the public’s eye, I’m ruined.

Aemond pauses his mixing of the salad greens, nuts, vegetables, and cheese, setting the bowl to the side. His head drops, and he lets out a loud sigh. “No one is taking you away from me,” he states, in a low and raspy voice. “Especially your damn father.” You blink, taken back a bit. “I don’t give a shit that your dad is the damn president of this fucking nation. You’re mine. That kid in your belly is mine.”

“Aemond…”

“I’ll marry you if I need to. Is that what your father wants? Would he be happy if his pregnant daughter was married to her baby daddy? Would it make all this unnecessary drama shit better? Cause I’ll fucking do it.”

You glance down at your bare feet, wiggling your painted toes. The mauve-colored nail polish is chipping along your big toenail. If you’d ask, Aemond would definitely repaint them.

“Do you want me to marry you?”

Your tongue wets your bottom lip before you press your mouth in a tight line. “I don’t know if my daddy will let me marry you…” you admit, toying with your fingers.

Aemond then leans against the sink, arms crossed over his chest. “Oh? Is that so?” In his mind, he is freshly eighteen and enlisting in the army, attempting so hard to ignore the snarky comments made toward both his nose and chin and quiet demeanor. All the doubt and torment, the constant undermining and discouragement, and being told he’d never amount to a higher ranking.

His eye drops to your baby bump poking out from behind your shirt, and the delicious way those cute booty shorts hug your hips. You’re everything and more. “I can’t lose you,” he says, shaking his head. “I will not lose you.” He is so incredibly in love with you, driven by obsession, and deepened by the fact that you’re carrying his child.

“I’ll marry you. Next month, next week, even tomorrow if you’d like. Just say yes, and I’ll handle the rest.”

He has the ring in his bedroom, tucked away in the back of his top bedside table drawer — a love knot, glittering with a French pave’ set of diamonds that cover the band halfway in 18k white gold. A symbol of everlasting love, he was told by the jeweler. It’s been in his possession for well over a year now, he just needed to find a reason to use it.

And a baby seems like the perfect reason, doesn’t it?

(creds to the loml my literal everything @chainsawsangel for the banner above <33)

taglist for everything aemond: @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @moonteas @chompchompluke

#aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #dark aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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sinkovia · 1 month

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Black Market: V

Hitman Simon Riley x Doctor Fem!Reader

In desperate need of money to clear a million-dollar debt, you accept Simon's offer to become his personal doctor, earning twenty percent of each contract he completes. But as you plunge back into the black market, ghosts from your past emerge, threatening to unravel everything you've worked so hard to run away from.

Fluff, violence, mention of roofie, mention of sex trafficking.

Masterlist - Black Market Masterlist

You and Simon sit at the dining room table, a deck of cards between you. The soft glow of the overhead light casts shadows on the cards as you shuffle and deal. Simon frowns as he studies his hand, clearly not thrilled with his cards.

After a few rounds, you lay down your winning hand, a triumphant grin on your face. "Looks like that's four wins for me, Simon."

Simon eyes you suspiciously. "You've got to be cheating. There's no way you're winning this much by luck."

You laugh, gathering the cards. "Maybe you're just not as good at this game as you thought."

Simon rolls his eyes, his competitive streak showing. "I highly doubt that. You're probably just a cheater."

You lean back in your chair, smirking. "Well, if you want, I can teach you a thing or two about the game. But I don't think you have what it takes to beat me."

Simon scoffs, "We'll see about that."

The banter continued as you shuffled the cards for another round, Simon making snarky remarks the entire time you played. Despite the teasing, there was an underlying comfort in each other's company that had grown over time. You played your winning hand down again and Simon threw his cards on the table and leaned back shaking his head.

“Just admit you’re cheating love.”

You laughed and went on a rant about how he doesn't know how to play the right cards and the two of you started bickering again. You never realized how much you enjoyed having Simon around, his presence had become a source of comfort and joy in your life.

As you sit across from each other at the dinner table, the clinking of cutlery against plates fills the air. Simon's question catches you off guard, “Ever been to the Bahamas?" genuine curiosity in his voice.

You pause, swirling your fork through the food on your plate before responding. "No, I haven't really traveled much since... you know, everything happened."

Simon nods, understanding evident in his expression. "I'm not surprised,"

You take a deep breath, "I never wanted to risk getting seen. Traveling is the number one way people get sex trafficked, and I couldn't take that chance."

"Makes sense,"

After a moment of silence, Simon speaks up again, his tone thoughtful. "You know, since you have your own little personal bodyguard," he gestures towards himself with a small smirk, "maybe it's time for the two of us to take some much-needed vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of surprise crossing your features. "Vacation?"

Simon nods, "Yeah, why not? We both deserve a break from all this madness. And besides," he adds with a playful grin, "I promise to keep you safe."

You can't help but smile at his offer, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought of spending time outside on the beach. "Where would we even go?"

Simon's smile widens as he leans back in his chair. "The Bahamas of course”

You lean back in the chair and think for a moment, "I don't even have any clothes for the Bahamas,"

"We can swing by your place and pick up whatever you need.” You hum and nod slowly, “Sounds like a plan then.”

The plane gently touched down on the runway, signaling the start of your much needed vacation. Soon enough, you found yourselves checked into your hotel room, ready to unwind after the flight. But as you stepped into the room and surveyed your surroundings, a frown creased your brow.

There was only one bed.

Turning to Simon, you raised an eyebrow in silent confusion. His muttered curse confirmed your suspicion. "Fucking hell, I asked for a double queen room," frustration evident in his voice.

While Simon dialed the reception you took the opportunity to explore the room. Opening the curtains, your eyes widened at the breathtaking view outside the window. The sight of pristine beaches and blue waters stretched out before you.

Moments later, Simon's exasperated tone broke the tranquil silence. "Bloody no good fuck," he muttered, hanging up the phone.

"They're fully booked, so they can't switch our room,"

You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to mask any disappointment. "That's okay," you replied, forcing a casual tone. "I don't mind sleeping on the couch."

Simon's response caught you off guard. "What couch?" he questioned, his brow furrowed in confusion. Glancing around the room, you realized he was right. There was no couch in sight, only a couple of single chairs scattered about.

With a resigned sigh, you turned back to Simon, a wry smile tugging at your lips. "Well, I guess we'll just have to get cozy in the bed then," you suggested with a hint of amusement. He quirked his brow, his lips in a tight unamused line.

“I'm joking Simon” you laugh and shake your head, “we will figure something out later, I want to go to the beach and get some drinks.

You opened your suitcase and grabbed your swimsuit and cover-up, eager to enjoy the day ahead. After changing in the restroom, you slipped on your sandals and stepped out, only to freeze at the sight of Simon, shirtless, standing in shorts with his back turned to you.

Your eyes immediately drifted to the tattoo adorning his back, a large Medusa inked with intricate detail, reminiscent of your own.

Turning to face you, Simon casually adjusts his sunglasses atop his head. "You ready?" he asks, his voice breaking the momentary silence.

"Yeah, just need to grab my bag," you reply, still slightly taken aback by the coincidence of your tattoos. You glance down and notice Simon wearing a fanny pack, a sight that surprises you. Unable to contain your amusement, you offer a playful smile, "I didn't peg you as the type to wear fanny packs."

Simon's response catches you off guard as he casually reaches into the fanny pack and pulls out a small silenced pistol. Your eyes widen in surprise. "Got to keep us safe," he says matter-of-factly, his expression serious yet nonchalant.

Together, you head towards the elevator. Just as the doors slide open, two girls enter. You instinctively step back, allowing them space. However, it's Simon they seem to notice, their eyes lingering on his bare chest and his inked arm. Their flirtatious demeanor doesn't escape your notice, and a twinge of irritation pricks at you.

They smiled coyly, tucking their hair behind their ears as they leaned in closer to him, but Simon remained unaffected, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Taking a deep breath, you clear your throat, drawing Simon's attention to you. "Getting sick?" he asks, his concern genuine.

"No, just thirsty,"

"The walk isn't too far,"

The girls continued to eye fuck him, their jealousy evident as they shot glances in your direction. As the elevator descended, one of the girls spoke up with a tone dripping with disgust, "Are you guys together?" Simon quirked an eyebrow, his gaze briefly flickering down to them before he replied bluntly, "Yes."

The chime of the elevator interrupted the moment as you reached the lobby floor. The girls scoffed and one of them rolled her eyes at you before they hastily exited the elevator. You furrowed your brows, as you turned to Simon, walking side by side with him.

“I think they were asking if we were a couple. They seemed interested in you,”

Simon quirked his brow as he looked down at you, “Interested in me? Thought they meant if we came together,” You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head. “Do you not have many interactions with women?” you teased lightly.

“Only the ones I need to kill,” Simon replied, his gaze lingering on your smile for a few seconds before tearing them away to open the lobby door. You laughed again, appreciating his dry humor as he held the door open for you.

You both settled into the beach chairs, the sun casting a warm glow over the sand. With a relaxed sigh, you slip off your sheer covering, feeling the gentle breeze against your skin.

“You want me to grab us some food while you save our chairs?”

Simon nods, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. He hands you his black card “Just don't go too far,” his tone casual but with a hint of concern.

You return his smile reassuringly, pointing towards the small bar just a few feet away. “I won't be far,” you assure him, before turning to walk towards the bar. As you go, you notice his eyes following you, a silent watchfulness ensuring your safety. When your back is turned, his gaze lingers on your medusa tattoo, mirroring his own, etched across your skin with shared significance.

Something stirs within him as he watches you, a strange mixture of familiarity and connection tugging at his chest. His attention is abruptly diverted when a girl suddenly steps into his line of sight, obstructing his view of you as she settles into your vacant chair. He quickly looks past her, making sure you're still within sight, even though his gaze was only momentarily blocked.

You stand a few feet away, discreetly observing Simon engaged in conversation with another girl while you wait for your drink at the bar. As you watch them interact, a subtle tightness grips your chest, a feeling you can't quite place. Is it jealousy? No, it couldn't be, right? You remind yourself that you don't have any romantic feelings for him, at least not consciously.

Yet, despite your rationalization, you can't shake off the discomfort that settles within you. You find yourself analyzing every gesture, every smile she flashes at him, unable to ignore the nagging sensation in the pit of your stomach. You take a deep breath, trying to quell the unease that threatens to consume you.

Finally, your drink arrives, providing a welcomed distraction. You force a smile as you thank the bartender, but your attention is still drawn back to Simon and the girl. You silently berate yourself for feeling this way, for allowing something as trivial as a conversation to affect you so deeply. But deep down, you can't deny the undeniable pull of something stirring within you, something you're not quite ready to confront.

You dip your finger into your drink, watching intently as you wait to see if your nail polish changes color. It's a precaution you always take, ever since you started using a special nail polish that detects the presence of roofies in drinks. Being cautious of any drink you didn't prepare yourself has become second nature to you.

After downing your fruity drink, your sliders are ready, and you startle when you hear Simon's voice beside you. Looking up, you furrow your brows in confusion. "Thought you were saving the chairs?" you question.

Simon lets out a sigh and leans on the counter. "Some girl was yappin' my bloody ear off," he explains, annoyance evident in his tone. "She asked for my number, and I gave her Johnny’s. They'd be perfect for each other." You laugh and grab the sliders off the counter.

As you both walk back to your chairs and start eating the sliders, time seems to pass effortlessly. You engage in easy conversation, enjoying each other's company amidst the beautiful view and weather.

As the sun begins to set, you both take seats at the bar and order drinks. Simon observes as you dip your finger into your drink, prompting his curiosity. "Why’d you do that?" he asks.

"My nail polish checks for roofies. Want me to check yours?" you tease, offering to inspect his drink. Simon playfully pushes his drink towards you. "Contaminate my drink with your dirty fingers, love," he jokes, a smirk playing on his lips.

You stick your pinky into his cup, and both of you watch as the polish changes color. Your heart sinks as the realization sets in, and you exchange a worried glance with Simon.

Simon's gaze shifts to the bartender, who's watching him intently, as if waiting for Simon to take a sip of the drink. Without hesitation, Simon places a hand on the small of your back, swiftly pulling out his gun from his fanny pack and firing a silenced round directly at the bartender's crotch.

He screams out and simon ushers you away quickly, his hand still firmly on your back as you speed-walk back to the hotel. Once inside your room, you lock the door behind you, adding an extra safety lock you brought along. Simon moves around the room with his gun drawn, ensuring it's clear.

"Why the fuck was he trying to roofie you?" You demand, your voice laced with anger an fear as you close the curtains ensuring your safety.

"To have easier access to you," he replies after taking a breath and your heart sinks knowing the weight of your past catching up to you.

"You think it's the contract?" you ask, your voice trembling with uncertainty. Simon nods solemnly, his expression mirroring your concern. Feeling overwhelmed, you sit down on the edge of the bed, tears welling up in your eyes. Fear grips your heart, weighing heavily on your shoulders as you curse softly under your breath.

Simon approaches you slowly, his first time witnessing you in such a vulnerable state. As he sits beside you on the bed, his eyes soften with empathy, taking in your tear-streaked face. You look up at him, feeling a mixture of despair and desperation, and you sniffle softly.

“I can’t go back there, Simon. I can't go back to those people, I can’t go back to him,” you admit, your voice trembling with fear and anguish. Seeing you in distress tugs at something deep within him, a desire to protect and reassure you.

Simon instinctively grabs his jacket and wraps it around you, offering what little comfort he can. As tears stream down your cheeks, Simon watches helplessly, unsure of how to comfort you. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, silently conveying his support.

“I promise, Y/n, you’re safe. As long as you are with me, they won’t get to you,” Simon reassures you, his voice firm but gentle. But you shake your head, unable to shake off the fear that grips you.

"They already targeted you once. If I hadn't checked your drink, they would have had both of us. Who knows what they would have done to you..." Your voice falters as Simon cuts you off by wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace.

You initially resist, feeling conflicted and overwhelmed, but as his arms envelop you, a sense of safety washes over you. “Just trust me, Y/n,” he murmurs softly, his words a gentle plea for you to find solace in his presence.

Your protests die on your lips as you lean into his embrace, allowing yourself to be held by him. In that moment, surrounded by his comforting presence, you find solace in the warmth of his embrace, feeling protected and cared for despite the turmoil swirling around you.

After a few moments, you gently wipe your wet eyes with the sleeve of Simon's jacket, the comforting scent of his cologne enveloping you. Gathering yourself, you stand up and make your way to the bathroom, exchanging your swimsuit for pajamas. You wrap Simon's jacket around you once more, finding solace in its warmth as you lie down on the bed.

“I’m going to stay up and watch the door, just in case they have something planned. At least one of us will catch it. I’ll look for the earliest flight we can take back home,” Simon informs you, his voice laced with determination.

You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of relief knowing that he's taking proactive measures to keep you both safe. With a heavy sigh, you rest your head on the pillow, exhaustion weighing heavily on you as sleep quickly overtakes you.

As Simon searches for flights on his laptop, his gaze occasionally drifts up to your sleeping form. He watches as your body rises and falls with each gentle breath, your features softened in the glow of the room. His eyes linger on your slightly puffy eyes from earlier.

He can't help but question his own actions, his unexpected urge to comfort you. Physical touch has always been something he avoided, a boundary he rarely allowed others to cross, even hating when Johnny would pat him on the back. Yet, in that vulnerable moment, he found himself reaching out to you without a second thought. Was it because you were crying? Because he wanted to offer you solace?

The internal conflict rages within him as he wrestles with his emotions. After all, you were just his doctor, someone he needed to keep safe for his own benefit. But as he watches you sleep, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirs within him, a growing awareness that perhaps his feelings towards you run deeper than he cares to admit.

Black market tag list: @shinchanboi @talooolaaloolla @lieutenantlashfaz @neothewitch @birdienotting @jupiternighties @samiiii333 @silverianni @elowynnlane @lotionlamp @ssc7514 @iloveloveeducks @rejectedbytheempty @whos-fran @sillyfrann @aykiraa @strawberrygato @yyiikes

Comment, DM, or send in an ask if you want to be added or removed from the list <3

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ruskaroma · 9 months

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First time with John Wick plssssssssssssssssssss

I truly think that the first time with John would be loving yet rough. I’m sorry, but that’s just how I paint him out to be.

He’s a killer, so it’s no surprise that his hands are naturally heavy and rough. He would touch your body with those large, dangerous hands, forever tainting it with his cruelty and brutality, making you submit yourself to his mercy.

For a man with few words, John sure does have his ways to make you shake and crumble under his touch while he says the most filthy, diabolical shit that could make even the devil blush. For some reason, he just finds you so beautiful wrecked and fucked that he can’t keep his words to himself.

The first time the two of you had sex, it was because he was jealous. You knew he was jealous but he didn’t admit that he was, and that was enough answer for you to get fucked as soon as the two of you arrived at your apartment.

It was a miracle that you managed to make him come with you to a company party even though all he did all night was stand beside you like he’s your bodyguard. Well, in a sense, he was your bodyguard, but his particular outfit that night got your co-workers wondering how the hell you were able to afford one.

John had kept his hand on the small of your back the majority of the night, like that was enough to show everybody that he was not only your bodyguard but also your very loving boyfriend who tolerated everyone in that room just for you.

But when he left to go to the bathroom and came back to a sight of another man being too friendly to you, John only realized that the whole “hand on the back” wasn’t enough to shoo those motherfuckers away.

John settled himself beside you again, but this time, he made sure to wrap his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his warmth, pretending like the other man beside you wasn’t there, because John could really not bother to care.

“Have I left you for too long?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows, confused.

John didn’t answer after that, but he did glance at the man who was already staring at him and his actions the moment he arrived. He also didn’t introduce himself, the man simply didn’t deserve it.

“Uh, is he your boyfriend?” The man interjected, and you felt John’s fingers twitch gripping your waist.

“Oh–uh, yeah, he is,” you replied sheepishly, then turning your head to smile tightly at John who was just raising a brow at you. “You probably thought he was my bodyguard, eh? Everyone’s been saying that the moment we arrived.”

“Yeah, I thought that, too,” he laughed awkwardly.

The conversation soon died out. Maybe it had something to do with the man just feeling really awkward because he truly didn’t know John was your boyfriend, or maybe it had something to do with the fact that John had been staring at him dead in the eyes threateningly while you weren’t looking.

When the two of you were on your way home, John had been dead silent with his hand on your thigh the only thing indicating that he’s not as mad as he made himself out to be and he was just really jealous. You know a jealous man when you see one, you just didn’t think you’d see John being jealous first hand.

“Come on, babe, you really not going to speak?” You whined from your seat, grabbing his rough hand to your softer ones as you placed a kiss on the back of it. When you didn’t get a reaction, you pouted childishly. “Jooohhnnnn. Babeeeeee. Babyyyyy.”

John still didn’t react. He kept his eyes on the road.

“You’re for real ignoring me because you’re jealous? Really, John? Bit childish, isn’t it?”

Then, his eyes narrowed as he ripped his focus on the road and onto yours. “I’m not jealous.”

“So that gets you talking?”

“Because I’m not jealous.”

“Sure, sure.” You nodded your head like you’re convinced, and you saw John turned his attention back on the road again. You took this opportunity to continue poking at him. “I mean, it was kinda your fault that he assumed I was single.”

John hit the brakes too hard than usual at the red light, and that was enough to prove your theory that he was, in fact, jealous.

He looked at you offended, and it was kinda hard to believe that you were getting to see that expression on his face first hand considering he rarely ever shows any emotions.

“You know I’m not very big on PDA,” he grumbled under his breath. “I thought my hand on your back was enough. Clearly he didn’t get the memo.”

“So you are jealous?”

Again, he didn’t respond. For a very dangerous well known assassin, John was sure as hell a bit childish when it came to you, but you liked that about him. That only meant he trusted you enough to feel vulnerable around you, show you a side of him he never showed to any one else.

John parked his car in the parking lot and the two of you walked in comfortable silence. You had your arm tangled with his, walking side by side until you reached the elevator. It was only then you had felt the touch of his hand on your ass.

“Well, well, well… Is John Wick finally making the first move?”

Maybe teasing him was a bad idea, because your smirk was immediately wiped off when you’re thrown against the wall and creating a loud bang.

“John, holy shit, I don’t wanna pay for the damage–”

“Shut up,” he growled under his breath, ducking his face down and inhaling your scent, opening his mouth to suck the skin, his sharp teeth bruising your neck that you yelped and wrapped your arms around his broad back.

“J–John, please don’t fuck me here–I wanna get fu–fucked on a real bed for our first time–”

Before he could even answer, the elevator’s door opened and he hauled himself off you in a matter of seconds. An old woman walked in, not bothering to look at the two of you as she pressed on the button to go up. You’re one floor above, you and John were just sharing side glances the entire ride.

When you reached your floor, John was the one to grip your wrist and pull you out of the elevator, already getting your keys in his suit pocket while you trip and giggle following behind him.

“I’m so excited–”

“I’m glad you find this amusing.”

“Are you kidding? I’m about to get fucked by my boyfriend for the first time in our relationship, of course I’m excited.”

Once John opened the door, he pushed you inside in no time and slammed it behind him. “Who said anything about fucking you?”

“What?” You pouted, growing confused.

“What if I don’t want to? What if I think you don’t deserve my cock?”

And instantly, you flushed at the words that came out of his mouth that you couldn’t reply anything other than a gasp when he launched himself forward and pressed his lips to you. His beard tickled your chin as his hands went behind your thighs, lifting you off the floor and wrapped your legs around his body.

“I was holding myself back for so long, I was doing so well, I was waiting for the moment to fuck you in a bed of roses like you deserve, but that guy just had to come in and ruin all my self control,” John said against your mouth, pressing his hard cock in his pants against your already wet cunt as he slammed you against the wall.

“I d–don’t want a bed of roses anyways,” you breathed, moaning at the feeling of his hot, throbbing crotch against your own, wanting nothing but to just pull it out and shove it inside you and ride him all night long, but it seemed like John had another idea of how the night would go. “Please, John, just–just fuck me, come on, I know you want to–”

“I don’t like how that guy was looking at you earlier. Like you were some piece of meat,” he nipped at your neck, you felt another wave of wetness drip out of you just from his voice. “Just want to mark you up, bruise your neck and body just so everyone would know you’re fucking mine–”

“Oh god–”

And that’s how you found yourself with legs spread on the bed with John between them. His right hand was around your throat, his other was gripping your hair hard, and his cock was pounding in and out of you like there was no tomorrow.

He’s so fucking big – so huge, so large, Jesus Christ – and you swore you were squealing like a pig. Your cunt was so sloppy and wet, the sound of your wetness squelching around John’s cock was making you so dizzy and lightheaded, not to mention when he was tightening the hand around your throat every few seconds, you were keening and moaning like a whore as you rambled all your dirty thoughts.

“Oh god–oh god, John, please–please, you feel s–so good–” you moaned, nails digging at his back as the bedpost slammed against the wall with each thrust. “Wanted–wanted this for s–so long. So big and huge and–fuck, I’m gonna–”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” John commented, letting his eyes wander between your bodies as he watched his thick cock plummeling inside your tight little cunt, clit puffy and sore from him sloppily eating you out earlier and he couldn’t be any more proud. You were so sensitive and reactive, every touch delivered a noise out of you. “Cum on my cock, princess. Make a mess all over my dick and I’ll fill you up so deep you’ll feel me until the next week.”

That was the line that threw you over the edge. Head thrown back and screaming, you held onto his back as you came around his cock, knowing the night was only just beginning.

#john wick #jw #concept #ask #john wick x reader #drabble #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #john wick imagine #keanu reeves #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick smut #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves smut #my works

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holylulusworld · 3 months

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BFG (3)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: size kink, flirty reader, objectification of Reacher, language, violence, flirting, fluff, mentions of animal cruelty / eating dogs (nothing happens!), slow burn continues

A/N: Please consider that I do not follow the exact storyline of season one. Some characters known from the show may appear.

Catch up here: BFG (2)

BFG masterlist

“The front door is fixed,” Reacher says as he walks into your kitchen to gulp down a huge glass of water. “I checked on the backdoor too and fixed it. I’ll take care of the fence when I’m back.”

“Reacher,” you sigh. “You don’t have to fix my house or the fence. I invited you to stay here for free. And after you handled KJ so well, I owe you.”

“He owed you respect,” he says and places the glass he used into the sink. “I don’t like men treating women like that. You deserve respect, and to be treated right.”

If you weren’t already head over heels for him, you’d have lost your heart to Reacher at that very moment. “You are very well-behaved. A gentleman.” You eye him up and down and bite your lower lip.

“My mom taught me to respect women and to use my strength only to do good,” he shrugs. “I only hurt people deserving to get hurt. He disrespected and harassed you.”

“Your mom was a wise woman,” you step toward Reacher to grab his hand. “She raised a righteous man. I wish I could meet her to thank your mom.”

“She’s—” his voice cracks. You already knew that she must’ve passed away from the way he talked about her, and the sadness in his eyes. “I think she would’ve liked you.”

“Hmm…moms always like me,” you grin. “Because of my charming personality and the pie, I make.”

“I bet they do,” he gives you a half smile. “Your pie is the best I ever ate.”

“Now you try to get more free food out of me.” You chuckle and turn around to prepare breakfast. “What about tonight? Will you be around for dinner?"

“I don’t know yet,” he says and looks out of the window. You still don’t know why he’s in town, or how he spends the time away from your diner and house. “I’ll try to make it in time.”

“If not,” you turn back around to run your hand over his arm, “I’ll make sure to have some leftovers for you. A big man like you got to eat.”

“Not again,” you yell at the owner of the restaurant across the street. He once again chased the poor stray away and even kicked the dog. “I will make sure they arrest you, asshat. The dog didn’t do anything wrong. He only walked past your restaurant to reach my diner!”

“Well then, put a leash around that beast’s neck and shut your mouth,” the man yells back. “If not, he’ll eat a bullet next time that piece of shit comes near my restaurant. You can sell its meat at your shitty diner after I’m done with that mangy mutt!”

You crouch down and call for the dog. He trots toward you and whines low in his throat. “I told you to stay away from that asshole. How about I take you home? I know you are used to freedom and not having an owner, but we can just pretend we are roommates.”

“Y/N, is something wrong?” Sally Ann comes running toward you. “What happened? Your roommate, or private bodyguard, or whatever that guy is to you stormed out of the front door. I think he’s about to kill someone.”

“What? I-“ You hear Reacher’s angry voice. This time, it’s directed toward the owner of the restaurant. “Fuck!” You ask Sally Ann to look out for the dog while you try to cross the street before Reacher kills that man.

“REACHER!” You call for him, but it’s too late. The restaurant owner refused to apologize to you and even tried to land the first punch. Reacher easily dodged his attack, stopped the man’s fist in midair, and twisted his arm. “Fuck!”

“One last time,” Reacher snarls at the man, still holding his arm in a tight grip. “You will apologize to the lady and leave the dog alone. If I hear or see that you threaten any animal or kid ever again, I’ll break more than your arm.”

As fast as he grabbed the man, Reacher released the restaurant owner and stepped away. He’d like to beat the man into a bloody pulp for what he said and did, but he doesn’t want you to see only the violent man he can become to protect people.

“Are you alright?” You don’t care that the restaurant owner cries and sniffles. Your hand reaches out for Reacher to check on him. “Did he hurt you?”

“He broke my fucking arm,” the man whines and hopes for any sign of compassion from you. “That monster!”

“Monster?” You cock your head. “Last time I checked you threatened children and an old dog. You wanted to shoot him and offered his meat to me. If anyone in town is a monster, it’s you. Not the man defending me and the dog.”

“I’ll call the cops!”

“Go ahead,” you snap at the man. “Everyone saw what you did and heard what you said. I don’t think a single person will help you!”

There is applause coming from the other side of the street. Your employees and guests cheer for you and Reacher. “We should head back. The dog needs food and you a slice of my pie.”

Reacher glares at the whining man one last time. The restaurant owner flinches and ducks his head.

“I shouldn’t have hurt him,” he says on your way toward the diner. “He was much smaller and weaker than me.”

“He’s an awful person, sweetie,” you grab his hand and squeeze it. “Believe me, you did the right thing. I saw him slap a kid two weeks ago. And he kicked a cat away from his door. He threatened Charlie too.”

“Charlie?” He furrows his brows.

“I gave him a name,” you smile. “Maybe he’ll stick around for a little longer if I give him a name.”

Crazy from Patsy Kline blares from the old radio at your kitchen when Reacher sneaks inside the room. He watches you slowly dance to the song. In lack of a partner, you just sway to the music and close your eyes.

“Hi, uh-“ he clears his throat. “I brought wine, dog food, and Clark bars.”

“Perfect timing,” you clap your hands. “Come on, it’s Patsy. Dance with me Reacher.” You hold out your hands. “One dance.”

“I don’t dance. Ever.” He glances at the old radio. “That’s almost antic.”

You drop your hands and sigh. No dance for you then. “It belonged to my grandmother. I know it’s old and most of the time it doesn’t work but…” you shake your head and turn around. “I didn’t have the heart to throw it away.”

“It’s a dear memory,” you feel his hands on your hips, and his chest pressed against your back. “You don’t throw memories away.” Reacher starts to sway, and you follow his lead. “Where’s the dog?”

“At the living room. He prefers to lie in front of the couch instead of using the dog bed I bought,” you turn around and start to dance with Reacher. “For a man who never dances, you’re not bad at dancing.”

“I love to dance,” he moves one hand to your back and presses you closer to his body. “If I ask someone for a dance, it mostly includes a lot of punching.”

You chuckle. “You won’t punch me,” he hums and watches you rest your head against his chest. “I wanted to thank you for punching two guys for me within three days.”

Reacher dances with you for another song before he reluctantly lets go of you. He turns your attention toward the wine and dinner instead of the things going on in his head.

He cannot risk getting attached to you. If this case is over, and he finds the murderer of his brother, Reacher will leave town. The last thing he wants is for you to miss him, or even fall for him.

Even though, the thought of getting attached to you is nice…

BFG (4)

Tags in reblog.

#jack reacher #reacher #jack reacher x reader #jack reacher x plussized!reader #plussized reader #jack reacher x you #reacher fanfiction #reacher x reader #reacher x y/n #reacher x you #fluff #tension #chubby reader

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respectthepetty · 7 months

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Daddy Issues in Naughty Babe

I cannot express enough how much I love every single thing that Naughty Babe is doing.

It constantly emphasizes loving our friends as much as we love our romantic partners, and now this entire episode was about being a good father and wanting better for your son. We see the difference between wanting a better life through money versus wanting a better life through love, and we see the difference between wanting your son to be better than you versus wanting your son to do better than you.

Yi's dad, Makorn, openly adores Diao, which is why Diao willingly confessed to his plan to ruin the wedding, yet Makorn told Diao regardless of what happens, Diao is family.

And we got to see that even though Makorn is tough on Yi, it's because he doesn't want his son to be him. Makorn told his son that his wife and Yi's mother left him because he was a cold man and tells Yi to express his feelings for Diao. He tells his son it's okay to cry.

So even though Makorn could not comfort Yi as a child even when Yi called out to him, he encouraged his son to express his feelings, which is something Makorn himself struggles to do.

Yi wants to be his dad. He wants to be strong and protective. He was reckless once, and it destroyed people's lives, so now he is controlling not only of others, but himself and his emotions. So he leaves his bedroom and has a panic attack in the living room without seeking any form of comfort. His father told him he could cry, but his father also showed him that nobody would be there to comfort him even if he asked.

Then Diao walks in, sits down next to Yi, and wipes his tears away. And Yi allows it.

This is why Makorn loves Diao. Makorn knows that even though he wants better for his son, he is to blame for Yi's callousness. Diao is good for him. Diao is is the remedy to a cold heart, and Makorn never wanted that for his son in the first place.

When Yi snaps on the phone, Makorn tells him to listen to Diao instead.

When Yi is ready to kill Diao's family, Makorn tells him he did not raise him to be violent the way he is.

He doesn't want his son to be better than him. He wants his son to DO better than him. He wants his son to have the love he was incapable of giving him.

And Diao can give him that.

Makorn continuously warns Diao that Yi is hard to love, yet Diao consistently responds that Yi deserves his love regardless of how difficult it is.

Because Diao only wanted love from his father.

His father, Sattha, tells him that he wanted a better life for Diao which is why he has done all he has including sending Diao to the UK.

Yet Diao confronts him with the fact that Sattha also greatly benefited from Diao's predicament, so if Sattha has anything to apologize for, it's that he basically exchanged his child for a better life.

Every time Yi has stumbled, Makorn has been there to scorn him and threaten him, but he has been there. He cannot express his love, but he does express his support, even if it is abrasive. He tells Diao and Aon, the bodyguard, to look out for his son. He cares deeply even if he cannot show it.

Yet Diao literally stumbles in front of his father, and his father doesn't even try to reach out to help because up until this point, Sattha has only financially helped his child through the contract with the Chens but never physically. He doesn't support Diao. He doesn't physically care for him. Because he thought he didn't need to if Diao was financially well off.

Neither Yi nor Diao know what love looks like, but are trying despite their upbringings. Yi tried being controlling and protective because that is what he knew were ways to show love. Diao tried to be obedient because that is what he believed would get him love. Now both are seeing what the love they want actually looks like.

For Diao, it is someone who tells him he loves him. It is someone who allows him to make his own choices. For Yi, it is someone who comforts him when he cries. It is someone who protects him when he feels weak. And for both, it is someone who is their safe place, their home.

Because home is always been rough for both. When Diao called his father at home, his father was short and distant. Yi's father always summons him home because he wants to talk to Yi (aka lecture him).

Makorn wants his son to do better than he did and encourages his son, in his aggressive way, to love better than he did. Sattha wants his to son to be better than he was and made every move to guarantee that. Makorn wants his son to marry for love. Sattha wants his son to marry for money.

Sattha wanted his son to be better than him and didn't give Diao an option. Makorn wanted his his son to do better than him and has given him nothing but (harsh) support.

Both boys have issues that make it difficult for them to trust how they are loved.

But they trust their friends. They trust each other.

And they trust one of their fathers.

Congratulations, Makorn, on being an issue, but ceaselessly trying to help your SONS solve their issues.

look at me appreciating a character's father instead of telling the character to kill him. *growth*

#naughty babe the series #father appreciation post #makorn is the better dad #sattha needs to get it together #this is about daddy issues #I love this show an unreasonable amount

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abbyromanoff · 1 month

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Can I request Morticia Addams protecting you part 2? Maybe just fluff and how mortician and r raise a child together in a mafia family

ANOTHER?

PAIRINGS: Morticia Addams x reader

WORD COUNT: 885

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, overprotective!Morticia, talks of Mafia, some fear in Morticia, talks of having a baby, not spell checked, think that’s abt it :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Morticia, it’s not dangerous, I promise! We’ll never even let him out of our sight.” Your wife shook her head in a disapproving manner, sighing as she bit her lip and continued to chop the carrots. You groaned in petulance, only removing your hands from the tight hold against your chest when you heard your son crying out for you. Morticia instantly set down the knife, rushing behind you to catch an eye on the little boy. Apparently he was still hungry and was also upset that he knocked down her toy.

It was the toy his mama had gotten him and she took pride in knowing it was his absolute favorite toy. You would shoot her playful glares whenever she mentioned it, because the both of you knew deep down that Morticia would definitely be the most liked.

“Oh, Pugsley, you need to be more careful. I know you get your clumsiness from mommy, but I don’t need two of you being this identical.” You chuckled lowly and placed a small kiss to his forehead before allowing him a few animal shaped crackers before dinner.

“The giraffe has always been his favorite, I don’t understand why.”

“Well, they’re cute. And they’re tall, I bet he’ll be a tall little guy soon too.” He pointed out the animal with his small fingers, a smile adorning his face as he giggled and took a bite.

“They’re long-necked freaks, I don’t understand how anyone could like those things. Besides, he’s too little to be eating those, what if he chokes?”

“Baby, his teeth are nearly full grown and they’re the softer versions for babies, he’s going to be okay.” You admired his love for the crackers and came to a sudden realization that had you abstrused; he had never gone to the zoo. He had probably never even seen an animal besides when your bodyguard had brought around a watchdog who he adopted. He instantly fell in love with it, and he cried the moment you had to say goodbye.

“What if we take him to the zoo?” Your wife stopped in her retreat to the dinner she insisted on preparing and placed her arms at her side, glaring at the thought alone.

“Please tell me you are joking, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes and whined lowly, causing her to raise her eyebrows and quirk her lip upwards.

“Darling, do you realize how dangerous the zoo really is? There are hundreds upon thousands of people there every day, none of which we know and can trust. The animals are kept in their enclosures by glass only, what if they try to attack? Hm? What happens when our baby is in danger and we are too focused on those dang animals?”

“It’s not that serious! I get it’s dangerous with your position but he deserves to live, don’t you want our boy to experience the world?” You pleaded with your eyes that you knew she could fall for so instantly. She bit the inside of her cheek and took a small breath through her nose before finally falling out of her trance.

“You need to stop hypnotizing me with those things- you already gave them to our son and now he’s a spoiled little death bug.” She glanced towards him once more, and seeing him play happily with his food made her sigh softly.

“Mhm, and maybe that’s why you should let us take this cutie pie to the zoo.” You stood behind the little boy with pleading eyes and he seemed to follow your act without hesitation.

“Mama, will you please take me and mommy to the zoo? Oh, mama, I really want to go!” You impersonated, and your son's struggling voice came to play. He murmured her title and you knew that was the moment she’d agree. With a long term list that she forced you to listen to, she accepted your pleas and two days later you were holding your body as he giggled at the Lion’s acts.

Morticia had began with stalking your surroundings in order to keep Pugsley and her wife safe, but soon she felt her guard falling as she focused on the happiness you shared. She had never once in her life felt so much peace, she was finally calm. Bodyguards still followed you both for protection, but she felt as if you three were the only ones in the world.

“Where’s the giraffe enclosure?” Your wife asked, causing you to stop in your tracks and Pugsley’s face instantly lit up. You looked at the map and followed the direction instructed, and only a few minutes later did you stand in front of the awaited zone. He watched as the animal moved and admired the noises they made, along with the chewing of the leaves.

“You know, he could feed the lambs over there.” She nodded softly, giving her son a moment before expanding their journey.

“We should have more.”

“You think we can handle that?”

“I think I can handle anything as long as you’re with me.” You turned to face the woman, still keeping your eye on Pugsley as he fed the different breeds.

“Awh, is the grumpy old Morticia getting soft on me?”

“I don’t know how I’m going to handle the two of you.”

“Oh, c’mon!”

#morticia addams #morticia addams x reader #Morticia Addams fluff #Morticia Addams angst #Morticia Addams comfort #Wednesday film #Morticia Addams Wednesday

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silly-little-gooses · 9 days

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the inheritance games royalty au headcanons/story ideas!

I made a post about this a little bit ago and many seemed to like the idea of tig taking place in a royalty au so here are some headcanons or perhaps story prompts! :)

recently, the wealthy king of their kingdom (tobias hawthorne) passed away under mysterious circumstances. instead of one of his children or grandchildren receiving his inheritance, it goes to a peasant named avery grambs who lives in a small cottage on the edge of the kingdom.

the royal family is shocked when they find his hand-written will in the kings old office but they cannot let the news get out to the public. citizens would riot! so avery was summoned to the palace for a formal talk.

grayson was raised all his life to become king. instead of ‘heir apparent’, he was the royal successor. he still has his iconic blonde hair and cold gray eyes, but his suits are adorned with royal badges and pins to flaunt his status. he doesn’t care for citizens much, but avery may change his mind…

jameson was the prince that all the girls in the village would fawn over, like in the original tig universe. he was charming, clever, cocky, and didn’t care much for being a prince. he has a history of dancing with numerous ladies at balls and drinking a few too many glasses of champagne.

nash is the oldest grandson, but rejected the throne from an early age. he always preferred casual clothing over royal dress and practically raised himself. he’s tired of the fortune and fancy class that is royalty, so he’s especially curious when a certain goth catches his eye…

xander is a goofball, loved by his people. he’s imperfect, not sure which spoon goes with which dish. but he’s kind, intelligent, and charming. scones? try crumpets.

libby loves to bake and dreams of becoming a baker but following the storyline of tig, she is struck with poverty and abuse. when avery must live in the palace for a year, libby is happy to join her. she always wears gorgeous gothic dresses. she soon finds her prince charming in nash, and they live happily ever after.

alisa is a royal advisor for the king when he dies and then begins work as avery’s royal advisor. a few years ago, she was engaged to prince nash before a sudden break up. even if she cannot be queen, she will find a way to make a change in her kingdom.

oren is avery's personal bodyguard ofc! he’s basically the same guy from the series, but make it a bit fancier.

avery is legally not old enough to be queen and all of the complications with the will would still happen in this universe.

instead of meeting on a balcony, jameson and avery meet at a welcoming ball for avery where jameson is very drunk on champagne and is stumbling around the empty hallways of the palace. avery needs some peace and quiet and to just be away from it all when she finds him. he asks her the same riddle as always.

emily was the daughter of a wealthy duchess who was close with the royal family. rebecca, jameson, and grayson still have their trauma with emily’s death.

skye and zara and toby are the children of the late king. princess skye is furious that she doesn’t have the crown which is what turns her evil ig.

this deserves its own freaking fanfic or headcanon list or something but the royal balls at the palace are wild. instead of the blackwood shooting taking place in the actual forest, I imagine it takes place in the royal gardens.

imagine a scene where avery is struggling to get on her corset for an event of sorts and asks jameson to help her. the tension? it would be so good.

overall, I think this au is SO COOL and I definitely want to see some work done with it! if you have any requests, I will be happy to take them! byeee! <3

#the inheritance games #jennifer lynn barnes #avery grambs #booktok #jameson hawthorne #averyjameson #royal au

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percyslcver · 5 months

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✦ ࣪ ˖ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐳 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟...

𝐨𝐫...

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐳, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫...

warnings : mentions of gangs, drug use, alcohol use, borderline smut

arabella perez walked her school halls, glancing from left to right and ignoring the fact that she had repetitively seen these people getting high off of god-knows-what the night before. it wasn’t uncommon for southside students to get fucked up the night before and return to school and act as if nothing happened, it was practically routine.

arabella figured that that was the saddest part. a community neglected by the government, left to fend for themselves and live off of microwaveable meals and adrenaline rushes. however, arabella never got herself involved in the gangs and drug abusers. she was raised by her mother, to never take a single substance ever. and she hadn’t.

a short squeal escaped her mouth as she was lifted from the ground from behind, a mouth clamped over her mouth and she violently kicked her feet, swinging them back into the crotch of her creeper.

“oh fuck, bella—“ the familiar voice of her boyfriend groaned. he had managed to pull her into an empty classroom before being assaulted by the heel of her beat-up converse. “my nuts, babe.” he winced as he keeled over, his hand gripping his joggers to, hopefully, relieve his pain.

“jesus, fuck, matt!” arabella cried out, placing a hand over her heart. she looked towards the door and saw two heads covering the window, shielding the two from the rest of the school — matts brothers.

they had taken it upon themselves to be the couples personal bodyguards. chris and nick tried desperately to convince their brother not to get romantically involved with arabella, but he couldn’t help himself. he was addicted to her. she was his drug.

“don’t scare me like that!” arabella scolded, smacking his shoulder roughly.

“hold on, slap me again in a second.” matt groaned, shuffling his legs around before cautiously returning to be standing up straight. “you got me good, ma.”

“shut your mouth.” arabella scoffed, grabbing the collar of his wife beater and bringing his lips to hers roughly. his hand moved to cradle the back of her head and the other rested on the small of her back, reaching lower and lower— “hey! we’re at school!” arabella reminded him.

she wouldn’t say she was innocent, because that really wasn’t the case, she just wasn’t as risky and wild as him.

“oh it’s fine, chris and nick are on the door.” matt smirked, amused by her fear of getting caught.

the couple stood for a few moments, hee glaring at him while he stared back cockily. she broke the silence.

“you still coming over tonight? my moms got a date… so we have the house to ourselves.” arabella bit her bottom lip and dragged her finger nails up matts tattooed arm, causing goosebumps to arise in his skin. “and, i get my test results back today, so if i’ve done good, i think i deserve a reward, don’t you?”

“oh yeah, um… about that—“ matt sighed, pursing his lips, as if annoyed himself. he looked over to where his brothers were standing in front of the door before returning his eyes to his girlfriend. “i can’t tonight, things are going on. family stuff.”

“oh.” arabella’s face fell, but she quickly recovered. “okay, never mind.”

she thought she had been very quick to hide her disappointment, but matt could read her like a book. “bels— come on.”

“no, it’s fine. don’t worry. we’ll just figure it out for another day.” she shrugged, and then the bell went. “gotta go, see you later.” she briefly kissed his cheek before slipping out of the room, greeting chris and nick as she departed.

“you tell her?” chris spoke up, watching as his brother walked out with an annoyed glare.

“what, that i couldn’t meet her tonight? yeah, and she’s upset about it, i can tell.” matt groaned, throwing his head back. “we haven’t seen each other alone for ages, man.”

“it’s for her own good, man.” chris patted matts shoulder. “i don’t even think you two should be together, you’re just putting her at risk.”

“as much as i love arabella, i completely agree.” nick backed up. “she doesn’t even know what you’re involved in, what we’re involved in, but it’s what’s best. be careful, kid.” he went left into a science classroom, leaving the two boys alone.

“i know you’re annoyed, but think about it.” chris sighed. “you decided to stay with her, you gotta deal with the consequences.”

“looking after her is not a consequence, you make it sound like loving her is a chore.” matt nudged his brother harshly.

“no, matt, you do.” chris replied, shaking his head. “constantly, all the time, i don’t want bella involved, i’m scared about dj finding out, what if she—“

“shut the fuck up.” matt gritted his teeth, “i’ve got it under control, stop being stupid.”

the house was deadly quiet as arabella sat on her couch, watching tv with a bored expression. she could only wonder what matt was doing right now. in fact, she was going to find out. she pulled out her phone and clicked on his contact, pressing the call button and bringing her phone to her ear.

“hey, can i call you back?” matts voice immediately spoke, sounding rushed and urgent.

“oh, i— okay?” arabella sounded slightly offended and her head recoiled at his tone.

“i’ll come by and see you when i’m done okay?” matt promised. “done with what?” arabella queried, furrowing her eyebrows as heard rustling in the background.

“i’ll see you later, baby. i love you.”

“i love you—“ the sound of the dial went and arabella frowned as she was hung up on. “too.”

later had now arrived, but matt hadn’t. arabella now sat in her room, wrapped in her blanket and staring at the ceiling. she decided that if matt wasn’t going to come to her house, she would find her own way to pass her time, and sleep was the only solution she could come up with. but it wasn’t coming to her as quickly as she thought it would.

a faint rapping noise came her window, and she furrowed her brows, turning her head in the direction of the glass, right beside her bed.

she peeled back her curtains and nearly jumped out of her skin as she was met with the face of her boyfriend. “fucking hell!” she mumbled, opening her window and allowing him to climb through.

she was about to shut her window when he reached outside and pulled a pair of shoes from her windowsill and threw them to the floor.

“you don’t like shoes on your bed.” matt grinned sheepishly, looking down at his sock-covered feet.

“that’s the second time today you’ve scared the shit out of me.” arabella frowned, crossing her arms in front of her chest and looking rather unimpressed.

matt leaned closer, one arm on either side of her body, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. “how about i fuck the shit out of you, instead?”

arabella bit down on her lower lip and sighed raggedly, before putting on a stubborn front. “you had your chance when my mom wasn’t home, but…”

“oh, come on, ma.” matt threw his head back before dropping it forwards, resting on her shoulder, his lips touching her collarbone.

the pair stayed in that position for a while, before matts hair tickled the side of her neck as he shifted, his lips delicately dragging along her olive skin, pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses to her collar bone, making his way up her neck.

“matt.” she sighed, her hands rising to rest in his hair as they fell back, her hair splayed out behind her on a pillow.

he hummed in acknowledgment, their lips now grazing each other. she leaned forwards, in an attempt to kiss him, but he pulled back before leaning in again, taking her plump bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go, watching it bounce slightly.

he then placed a passionate kiss to her lips, his fingers shifting to rest on her clothed hips. unknown to him, she was wearing an oversized t-shirt and black pants, but he wouldn’t figure that out until his hands travelled — which they eventually did. they always did.

his slender fingers traced the curve of her thighs and disappeared beneath the material of her shirt, grasping at the bare skin of her hips, his thumb playing with the waist band of her underwear.

he pulled away from her face and looked at her, she was quick to defend herself, “what? it’s hot tonight.”

he shrugged before kissing her again, his hands roaming her body and pushing her shirt further up, nearly revealing her bare chest to him, but she was quick to halt his actions.

“hold on, is this your way of making it up to me?” arabella scoffed, sitting up and pulling her shirt back over her legs. “you rain check me and then basically decline my call as soon as i spoke. you think a bit of make-up sex will fix it?”

“no, this is only part of it.” his hand raised to meet her cheek, his delicate thumb swiping across her cheekbone. “this is your reward for the test you did. i’m taking you out on a date tomorrow to make up for missing tonight.”

“speaking of, how was the test?” his face disappeared as he buried it in the crook of her neck, his teeth pulling at her skin.

she gasped sharply, and played with the hair on the back of his neck. “what?”

“your test.” his voice was mumble against her skin, but came clearer as he pulled away, only to remove her shirt from her small frame, making herself vulnerable to him. he was quick to place his lips and teeth against her chest. “how was it?”

“it was um… it was good?” she gulped, trying her best to stay composed. “i got 89%”

matt returned his lips to hers, tilting his head and looking impressed. “did you now?”

she hummed and nodded, solidifying her answer. “31 out of 35.”

“my smart girl.” he mumbled, diving his head down to press kisses against her chest and down to her stomach, looking up at her through hooded eyelids. “keep talking about your day, or i’ll stop.”

arabella nodded and let her head relax back onto her pillow, staring up at her plain ceiling, but the feelings she got from matt were everything but plain.

“the test was about religion and shit. but then i got told i have a— fuck.” she paused her speech to indulge in matts pleasure. “maths test next week, not really excited about that.”

“you want me to tutor you?” his words vibrated against her, making her screw her eyes shut.

“you? matt sturniolo? tutor me? you’re funny.” arabella laughed, rolling her shoulder as she got more comfortable.

“oh, fuck you.” matt scoffed, slapping the outside of her thigh.

“are you not going to?” arabella teased, looking down at him.

he rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, before returning to his previous tongue-lapping actions.

the rest of the night was pleasurable and love-filled, as arabella’s head rest on matts chest when all was done and cared for. his hand ran through her hair softly, dragging it up to the air and letting it fall back down. the relaxing movements and tiresome activities arabella had just indulged in, was enough to send her straight to sleep. matt looked down at her lovingly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and wrapping both arms around her frame tightly, careful not to wake her.

“i love you, bella.”

a/n

hey yall… i plan on making this a little mini series cuz i love the idea of triplets being dealers or stoners. like it’s so fun to me😭😭 the ending was borderline smut but i’m too scared to write it fully help💀

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolos #matt sturniolo smut

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starlightshadowsworld · 2 months

Text

I got bored so I'm rambling through all of my Bungou Stray Dogs AU's.

The Sheep King and his Demon AU

Aka Bsd except Chuuya doesn't join the Port Mafia.

The Sheep never betray Chuuya. In fact they are basically one big dysfunctional and loving family.

Chuuya still goes on the search for Arahabaki and meets Dazai. But the Sheep trust him, their wary of Dazai but not Chuuya.

As time goes on, the Sheep warm up to Dazai and basically adopt him like a stray cat. Chuuya and Dazai get together, the Sheep tease them relentlessly for it.

Just a silly lil AU on their antics and Soukoko being Soukoko even though Chuuya remains King of the Sheep.

Agency informant Izaya

Izaya Orihara from Durarara in the world of Bungou Stray Dogs. However this Izaya is quite different, essentially everything in Durarara still happened.

The final fight with Shizuo and the brutal humbling reminder that Izaya was still very much human.

This is an Izaya who has changed, who tries every day to be a better person than who he was.

He came to Yokohama because he was curious if the famous Demon Prodigy was in fact a Demon. And ended up with a whole new life.

He learned to let people in, he learned how to love people. And became the human Shinra always said he could be.

No one from Durarara shows up because Izaya has erased all evidence of him online. He has left Ikebukuro behind and will never return.

Izaya is like Katai in the way he's not technically a member of the Agency but he's still with the Agency. The Agency adore him, Dazai is basically his little brother at this point.

Sometimes Izaya wonders if he deserves this, but he's thankful anyway.

Izaya's firecely protective over them all, and helps out when shit goes down. Usually from behind the scenes.

He has an ability, Sunsets Last Applause, that functions like Ango's except it works through looking at people rather than touching objects.

An AU that takes place across different moments and arcs in canon, either about Izaya or he's in someway involved.

The Port Mafia brothers AU

Aka Bsd except Akutugawa and Dazai have a good sibling relationship

Basically that.

Dazai finds Akutugawa and recruits him into the Port Mafia. What Dazai didn't expect was for Mori to put him in charge of Akutugawa.

Dazai freaks out, because he's in no way equipped to raise a child (child in question is 2 years younger than him.)

The reason Dazai freaks out is because he wants to do right by Akutugawa. He saw a scared kid and wanted to help him, but he doesn't know what to do.

Oda is there to give him advice and reassure him that he'll be fine. That Akutugawa will have to learn to stand on his own two feet in this organisation.

You need to guide him, be a helping hand. Dazai doesn't abuse Akutugawa in this, at all.

In the Port Mafia, Akutugawa is basically Dazai's shadow. He's silent, he's never far from him and almost treated like the furniture, a bodyguard.

For his own protection, no one can know their true relationship especially Mori.

Outside of the Port Mafia Akutugawa is Dazai's silly, bitchy little brother and Dazai is his dramatic, dumbass older brother. Their idiots and they love each other.

Silly lil AU that's basically Dazai and Akutugawa's antics, along with Gin. And Oda keeping an eye on them with Ango.

Moonlit Butterfly

When Atsushi's ability manifested, the Orphanage called the Special Division of Unusual Powers to take him away.

They were fascinated by his ability, see they wanted to start the Hunting Dogs programme. But they didn't have proof a human could survive the procedures.

Hence, where Atsushi came in as their lab rat.

However at some point, Fukuchi learned of him and said such a strong ability couldn't just be wasted like this.

So along side being a lab rat, now Atsushi was being trained by Fukuchi. And let's just say Fukuchi was not a kind instructor. No one treated Atsushi like he was human.

The great war came and Atsushi, now 10 years old was deployed as a soilder. Which is where he met the other kid in his regiment, 11 year old Yosano Akiko.

Yosano had been working at a sweets shop just last week, but was persuaded by Doctor Mori to join the war effort. He told her she could save lives with her ability, and she wanted too.

Neither really knew what they'd signed up for, though it wasn't like either had a choice.

Yosano is the first person to show Atsushi kindness, the first to treat him like a human. Both of them have a sibling relationship and everyone else in the regiment keeps their distance.

They love Yosano one moment and than hate the next as their angel of death. And Atsushi is deemed a demon simply for existing.

Well, not everyone thinks that. The only person outside of the duo who are kind to them is Shunzen Tachihara.

He's an older sibling to them. Yosano and Atsushi remind him of his little brother and Shunzen's always there to let them have those little pockets of ease and joy during the war.

(Entire regiment: that's an angel/Demon

Shunzen Tachihara: Those are children, leave them alone!)

AU is basically the embodiment of the universe bought them together, ripped them apart and somewhere along the way they found each other again.

Because Shunzen... Meets his canon fate, Yosano and Atsushi are seperated after the war. Yosano to the psychiatric hospital, Atsushi back to the lab.

But with the efforts of one Genuis Detective they are bought back together again.

And if I can figure out a plot, this one might become an actual fic. Mostly centers on them in the war but does include afterwards.

The Wary Weretiger

The Orphanage never let Atsushi forget who he was. Atsushi remembers killing Shibusawa and was told about why he came.

Shibusawa wanted the tiger, most people want the tiger. Atsushi doesn't really know why, just that it's unique the tiger and because of the power it holds.

The Headmaster really told Atsushi almost everything. The man was many things but a liar wasn't one of them.

He taught Atsushi that the only one you can trust is yourself and Atsushi took that seriously. The only being Atsushi trusts other than himself is the tiger.

The tiger and Atsushi are close, they are the only one each other have. Because of that Atsushi has better control but not completely.

Atsushi doesn't trust anyone else. Every adult in his life has let him down, has tortured and abuse him.

He runs away from the Orphanage and lives on the streets.

He knows the Guild are after him, he's met Fitzgerald and knows about Fyodor. Atsushi has even met Doctor Mori, who was an old friend of the Headmaster and curious about his ability.

So when Atsushi gets asked to join the Agency, he refuses. Because he believes they just want his ability. They did start the whole thing by searching for the tiger, so... Fair assumption.

And while, true the fact the rampaging tiger is actually a homeless teenager definitely shifts everyone's priorities.

They work to build up trust with Atsushi, wanting to show they truly want to help him.

But Atsushi doesn't want their help, he's gotten this far on his own. He's been hunted his whole life, known pain as a constant companion.

He doesn't know what to do in the face of genuine kindness.

Unfortunately the threat will continue to grow and Atsushi will end up having to ally with the tiger.

He's smart, cold and has a short temper. But underneath it all he's just a kid that wants a home.

The Agency swear they'll give him one, one day.

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in-my-loki-feels · 3 months

Text

Indianapolis Bones and the Very Annoyed God of Mischief

In this post I proposed the idea of a President Loki + Mobius variant based on Owen's Dr. Indianapolis Bones SNL skit, and then I couldn't stop thinking about it so here's a bit of flash fiction based on that. Enjoy!

ETA: There's now a 4+1 expanded version of this on AO3!

“It’s such an honor to have you here, sir.”

Since Loki had walked in, the restaurant's manager had been practically falling over himself with praise. He'd nearly wept when Loki handed out "Vote Loki" pins for the staff to wear. The Midgardians were finally treating him as he deserved, even if he wasn't their king...yet.

A woman ran up to whisper something in the manager's ear and he brightened.

“Your table is ready, sir. Right this way.”

Loki followed the man deeper into the restaurant, smirking as every head in the place turned to watch him and his collection of black-suited bodyguards. He didn’t need their protection but it amused him to think of humans throwing themselves at other humans at his behest.

Loki caught the eye of one elegantly dressed woman and winked, causing her to flush prettily. Her date seemed entirely unamused at the “come hither” look she was sending Loki’s way. The only people who didn’t turn to watch Loki’s entrance were a group seated at a long table at the center of the room. They appeared to be in a heated discussion.

The manager paused by a small table next a window with what looked like a decent view of the river, even if Loki found Midgard’s scenery somewhat lacking compared to Asgard. Before Loki could sit, there was a clatter of dishware and both he and the restaurant's manager turned to see the source.

An extremely nervous-looking waiter had dropped the stack of dishes they were collecting onto a nearby table. Their attention was focused on a different waiter, or at least someone dressed as such, who stood at the far end of the long table, holding a gun. Loki raised an eyebrow. This was an interesting development.

The waiter with the gun was pointing it at an unassuming man seated at the end of the table. The man’s blonde hair was on the long side and, paired with his beard, gave him an unkempt look in Loki’s opinion. The horrible beige plaid blazer he wore wasn’t helping.

Loki blinked and suddenly everyone else at the table had a gun out, all pointed at the man, who only smiled in response. Everyone in the dining room seemed to be holding their breath as the man took a brown fedora out from under the table and settled it on his head.

"Now, now, let's not be too hasty." His voice had a pleasant drawl to it. He held his hands up as he stood slowly.

“Just give us the map!” snapped one of the women at the table.

“Sorry, can't do that,” the man replied and winked. He was either incredibly brave or very stupid given the circumstances.

When the man slowly lowered his hand to his hip, Loki felt a brief spike of excitement. Was he about to witness a bloodbath? Unexpectedly, the man freed a long whip. With two quick cracks, he took out the light on the table and the chandelier overhead, bringing it crashing down and plunging the room into darkness.

At least two of the guns went off after that, which made Loki roll his eyes. For how frail they were, Midgardians were always so reckless with their weapons.

“Sir! Get down!” That was one of his men. They knew better than to grab him and simply lunged past, likely intending to tackle and disarm the gun wielders. Loki heard the sound of scuffling and was about to fling up a light—waiting in the dark was tedious—when someone did bump into him.

“You look important and I'd hate for you to get hurt, so probably best to come along with me.” The easy drawl was recognizable, though the man with the whip sounded slightly winded now. Then he wrapped an arm around Loki's waist and hurried them both away from the sounds of fighting.

Loki was so stunned at the audacity of being manhandled, he was outside before he fully registered what had happened. He tried to shove the man off but he’d already stepped away. Inexplicably, the man now wore a leather jacket instead of the plaid blazer. Now able to get a better look at the man, Loki was dismayed to find the bright blue eyes and lopsided smile were annoyingly attractive.

“Hey, are those a family heirloom?” the man asked, gesturing to Loki’s golden horns. “They look pretty good for an antique.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki snapped. “Do you have any idea who I am?!”

“Of course! How could I forget with the horns and all.” The man waved again and a long silence followed his words. Then a huge grin split his face. “Actually, I don't, but hopefully you won’t hold it against me. I’m Indy by the way, short for Indianapolis. My parents were kind of kooky.”

Before Loki had a chance to inform this ridiculous Midgardian that he didn't care what his name was, or what his parents were like, the back door of the restaurant slammed open.

“There he is!”

It was the diners who’d pulled guns in the restaurant.

“Oops, gotta go. See you around, friend!” The man—Indy, apparently—clapped a hand to his hat to keep it from flying off and ran into the night. Gunshots rang out in response and the bullets whizzed by Loki, close enough to further annoy him. He gestured at the gaggle of people spilling out of the restaurant and, with a flash of green light, they vanished. Seconds later, Loki's bodyguards came rushing out.

Loki wasn't impressed by their delay in finding him, but he had something more important to address.

He pointed at the fleeing man in the fedora. “Find that man—Indianapolis…something—and bring him to me.”

The people who’d been chasing Indy might have been able to answer his questions, but Loki had sent them elsewhere without giving much thought as to where. As half of the bodyguards took off in pursuit, Loki stalked back inside, followed by the rest. He would get his answers one way or another.

#president loki #mobius m mobius #lokius #lokius au #dr indianapolis bones #don't think too hard about this it was only meant to be fun #i had A Scene™️ in my head and i just had to get it out #maaaaybe i could expand on this someday?#but for now back to the OTHER president loki fic I was writing (lol)#i'd love to see anyone else's ideas for this au!#mobius #wanderingflame fic

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melwilson · 2 years

Text

deserving

bodyguard!courtland gentry x reader

warnings! mentions of injury and trauma

“you’re late.”

“i know. i’m sorry. got tied up.” the blonde hums as the front door shuts behind you. his eyes raked over your frame to looking for any new bruise or signs of injury. “you didn’t have to wait up for me,” you say as he comes to stand in front of you.

six rolls his eyes, taking the pile of shopping bags from your hands. “it’s my job.”

“i really hope my dad pays well,” you utter under your breath. you don’t mean for him to, but six hears you. he always does. he doesn’t respond though, mind wandering to the offshore swiss bank account that is collecting his check every week. he doesn’t need the money. when he was approached by the balding politician, he was skeptical, but it was an out- a means to the end of sierra six…even if it meant being the personal bodyguard of twenty-year-old you. it wasn’t glamorous, but it allowed him to live without looking over his shoulder and it provided him with more than enough money to take care of claire and himself.

you follow him to your room, watching as he subconsciously checks all the windows and doors that he knows are locked. occupational hazard, he would say. trauma, you would argue.

“i really am sorry for keeping you up this late,” you apologize when your eyes read the time on your bedside analogue clock. half past twelve. “we obviously did some damage,” you gesture towards the shopping bags. “had a couple drinks. lost track of time.” your best friend had suggested a shopping trip. how could you turn it down? six had insisted on going, in fact, if your dad found out that six hadn’t gone, he would lose his mind. however, you convinced the bodyguard that you would only be gone until nine. nine…conveniently turned into twelve thirty.

the glare the blonde gives you is hard enough to make you want to dig an early grave. his blue eyes are intense, staring right through you. “you’re not old enough to drink.”

you brush past him into your closet to change into your usual tee shirt and spandex. “if i can sign up to die for my country, i think i can have a drink every once and awhile.”

court doesn’t argue with your point, he simply replies with, “you should’ve called me, y/n.”

when you exit the closet, you’re met with concerned eyes. “i’m okay, court. one night without you didn’t kill me.” he raises an eyebrow and you send back a begrudging look. “i promise to call next time.”

he nods, satisfied. you both know you are very capable of protecting yourself, but six took your safety seriously. the first month of his stay included you learning about situational awareness and the basics of krav maga. you were strong, more than able to overtake the average sized military aged male. six was hired, however, because the people who wanted to hurt your father were relentless and better than the military. they were men like him. machines. killers. you couldn’t handle yourself against men like him and that is what six was scared of. he cared about you just as much as he cared about claire. and vice versa.

you had taken a liking to your short-lipped, blonde shadow. after a year of him being around, he had become the closest thing you had to family. he had truly seen you at your best and at your worst. he celebrated your birthday with you, listened to you vent about celebrity drama, held you when your sister left, became a punching bag when you were angry. he was the only person who knew where your birthmark was and snuck you out when you wanted to get a new tattoo. the first one had been a crescent moon on your left shoulder. the most recent was the number six permanently etched into the smooth of your wrist. the blonde thought it was a joke and proceeded to lecture you the whole ride home when he realized it wasn’t. he said it was foolish. you thought it was touching. that was your first argument. what he failed to realize was that he was everything your family wasn’t. he was present, available, he listened, made stupid jokes, gave terrible advice, but he was always there for you.

“we’re staying in tomorrow,” six informs heading for your door. he intends to check the the grounds one more time.

“wait.” his shoes making a squeaking sound on your hardwood floors as he stops. “i got you something.”

six watches as you dig through the pile of massive shopping bags on your floor. the first thing you throw at him is a four pack of gum. “island berry lime, watermelon wave, pineapple twist, splashing mint. what happened to perfect wintergreen peppermint?”

“discontinued,” you mutter finally finding what you were actually looking for.

six hums in surprise. “i kinda liked that one.”

“well, i hope you like this a little bit more.” your usual mischievous glint is replaced with one of adoration. six is skeptical, but takes the small black box from your hands. you rock back on your heels, nervous.

“y/n,” six says, “what is this?”

“what do you mean? it’s a watch.”

“a really expensive watch,” he shoots back. hublot, orlinski titanium, $15,000.

“whatever,” you shrug, “look at the back.”

VI ; six

the cardinal number between five and seven.

a small smile creeps onto his lips as he reads the engraving. “what is this for?”

“because i like seeing you smile and because you deserve something better then the crappy one you’re wearing right now.”

the word deserve was one that six battled with. he had never felt deserving of anything in his life. he had always thought that the people he had been sent to hunt truly deserved to die, but what about him? what did he deserve? for years he existed in a world beyond the walls of normal life where the word deserve didn’t exist. but now as a civilian, he could think about the things that he wanted and the life he wanted to live. you were apart of that life- not romantically of course, but rather as a reminder that he deserved good things.

he shakes his head trying to hide his smile and sets down the watch. “c’mere.” you raise a skeptical eyebrow and he insists, “come here.”

he opens his arms and you step into them, humming as he wraps you in his warmth. “thank you,” he utters softly. “i mean it.”

you lean back to place a soft kiss to his jaw. “you deserve it, court.”

#courtland gentry x reader #courtland gentry #sierra six x reader #sierra six the gray man #sierra six #courtland gentry blurb #court gentry #ryan gosling the gray man #ryan gosling #lloyd hansen x reader #chris evans #lloyd hansen

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