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secretjeon · 1 year

Note

Could you write something for SebastianxF!reader? Maybe later in their 7th year with Sebastian being jealous of all the boys interested in you. Him figuring out his feelings for you and maybe some kissing at the end 😳

ONLY YOU; SEBASTIAN SALLOW

pairing: sebastian sallow x f!reader

warnings: teeny tiny bit of angst if you squint, some arguing, jealousy, very quick slight suggestiveness, reader is seriously so desired by everyone its not even funny, fluff!!! not proofread!

word count: 1k+

a/n: first time writing for sebastian but it was so much fun im so excited!! for anyone who might want to request I write fluff, angst and smut so there's not really any limits. i don’t know how to write dialogue as a british person in the 1800s, so take it easy on me, but i hope u like it!! 🤍

comments/reblogs/likes are appreciateddd

He didn't know why he was so upset at the sight before him. You were currently sitting in your Defence Against the Dark Arts class, waiting for the professor to begin.

It wasn't just you at your table. There were also two boys, whose names you can't remember. They were both bragging about different things to you, one about Quidditch, the other about his amazing skills in Herbology.

It was a painful sight to watch, seeing as Sebastian was sat at the table just behind you. From where he was, he could very obviously tell they were trying to flirt with you. It bothered him deeply, why would these guys ever think they had a chance with you?

Smart, beautiful, perfect you. Things he all believed. Of course, he didn't think anything of it. Why wouldn't he acknowledge how beautiful you were? That was just simple human nature. But that didn't stop him from wondering why he was so bothered by the guys flirting with you.

He hated the thought of them doing anything with you. Talking with you, kissing you, touching you. The thought made his blood boil.

This wasn't the first time this had happened. Sebastian can recall the many times your chats were interrupted by another guy trying to take you on a date. Of course, you said no each time, but it wasn't any less annoying to him. He'd learned to refrain from rolling his eyes at this point, but still silently cursed the lads in his head.

"Alright, everyone! Take a seat." Professor Hecat spoke, allowing the two boys at your table to sit at their respective seats.

"Today, we are going to be doing something a little different. I want you to each partner up with someone, and then I will be explaining the rest." You immediately got up, about to go towards Sebastian when another boy got in your way, Liam, if you can remember correctly.

"Hey, Y/N, wanna partner up?" Sebastian couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes this time. You paused for a moment, trying to find a way to politely reject the boy.

"Erm, sorry... Liam, right? I'm afraid I've already partnered up with Sebastian." The brunette boy lit up at your words, suddenly feeling confident and looking at Liam with a smug face.

The other boy nodded with a tight lip smile, before leaving, defeated. You sat down next to Sebastian, who now had a bright smile on his face. "What are you all smiley about?" You teased.

"Nothing, let's listen for Professor Hecat's instructions, yeah?" Both you and him brushed it off, spending the rest of the class chatting up a storm and doing the assignment.

___

A few days have passed, and it just so happened to be Valentine's Day. You and Sebastian had gone to The Three Broomsticks to drink a butter beer together, as your own 'Galentine's Day', though you weren't sure if you could call it that because Sebastian wasn't a girl, but you were both single so the concept was the same.

You were sipping on your drink, enjoying each other's company when you see a guy who you recognize from your Charms class, someone whose tried to ask you out before, approach you.

"Y/N? It's Patrick, from Charms? I was wondering if maybe you'd wanna get a drink with me." This visibly angered Sebastian, his grip on his glass tightening, knuckles turning white. Before you could speak, Sebastian decided to tell Patrick a few words of his own.

"Don't you see that she's busy with me right now? And I don't know if it's clicked in that noggin of yours, but have you ever considered that maybe she's just not into you?" His voice was slightly raising at this point, but you couldn't help but find it attractive.

Patrick's eyes widened a little before backing up, muttering an apology and walking away. You turned to face Sebastian. "Why did you do that? You didn't even let me get a word in."

"Oh, please, Y/N, didn't you see how he was looking at you? It's like you were a chocolate frog and he was ready to eat you! Trust me, he's not the right guy for you." You quirked an eyebrow at his statement.

"Then who is?" You watched as he hesitated for a moment, before taking a sigh as if to prepare himself, and looked you in the eyes.

"I am," You stared at him in shock, not knowing what to say at the sudden confession.

"Y/N, I'm not sure why I didn't come to this realization sooner, but I've fallen for you. Deeply. I mean, we've gone through everything together, and you're just so perfect. You're truly one of the most amazing people I've ever known, and I've never felt this way about anyone be-"

You cut him off by leaning forward and capturing his lips with your own, catching him off guard. He's thrown off at first, but quickly matches your rhythm with his own, your lips fitting together like puzzle pieces, sparks flying everywhere in the room.

The kiss is everything and more. With his mouth still on yours, he grabs your chair, pulling you in closer, before moving his hands to you, one on your face, holding your cheek, the other holding your hand.

You both break apart, breathless with stupid smiles on your faces. "I've been waiting forever for you to say that." You grab his hand with both of yours.

If it was possible, his smile got even wider at your words. "You have?" You nodded, figuring it was time to confess.

"You've given me absolute butterflies since the moment I met you, Sebastian. I had all but hoped that you felt the same way. Why do you think I've always rejected the guys that flirted with me?

It's because it's you. It's only been you." You lean in for another kiss before Sebastian suggests a real date, perfectly fitting the day. The two of you leave The Three Broomsticks, feeling happier than ever before.

#Sebastian sallow #Sebastian sallow x reader #Hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #harry potter #Sebastian sallow fanfiction #Sebastian sallow fluff #Harry Potter hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow fanfic

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superhaught · 1 month

Text

Incurable Cravings

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warning: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI)

Word Count: 1800, Part 1/?

Part 2 / Part 3

Regina bullies reader and ends up getting exactly what she wants.

Explicit content below!

You would think that keeping your head down, wearing your headphones and staying out of people’s way would mean that you could go about your day unbothered, but that was not the case today.

You navigated through the crowded hallways at school easily enough but if fucking Jason Weems hadn’t gotten in your way, you wouldn’t have accidentally bumped into Regina. You barely touched her really, but no one, not even her former best friend, could get away with doing anything that could so much as irritate her.

You cursed under your breath as she turned around and gave you her signature death-glare.

“Did you just fucking try to push me? Oh my god! You totally did, didn’t you? Gretchen, you saw that, right?”

Gretchen feigned shock, “I totally saw, Regina, you’re so right.”

Regina raised an eyebrow and brought her hand to her chest as if she had been truly scandalized, “you absolute bitch!” The blonde reached out and knocked your books out of your arms, scattering them to the floor.

You sighed and rolled your eyes out of habit. Regina grabbed your chin hard, “and now you have the audacity to roll your eyes at me? Are you fucking kidding?”

You clenched your jaw and didn’t say anything in response. Regina shook your chin forcefully, “are you going to apologize or what?”

Was it the best choice to make Regina more angry? No, of course not. But you were so sick of the bullshit. She wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time, you would have trusted her with anything. Once, you, Janis, and Regina were the inseparable trio. You weren’t cool, you didn’t have to be. You had each other. None of you judged the others’ interests or outfits or houses. You just loved each other.

Not anymore though.

“I didn’t fucking do anything, Regina.”

“Oh, absolutely the fuck not.” Suddenly, Regina’s grip shifted to the back of your neck and she was shoving you forward. She threw open the janitor’s closet and pushed you inside, making you stumble against the sink. You hit your hip on the ceramic and winced, you’d have a bruise later for sure, but in that moment you knew that would be the least of your worries after Regina planted herself between you and the closet door and shut it behind her.

She didn’t turn on the closet light, so you were trapped in a dark closet with the taller girl with no feasible way of getting out.

“What the hell is your fucking problem, Regina?” You demanded.

“What’s my problem? My problem is that I fucking despise you. I’m sick of seeing your fucking face in my school and yet, it seems like everywhere I go, there you are.”

“Jesus Christ, get over yourself, Regina.”

She put her hands on your chest and shoved you backwards, pushing you against the shelves of cleaning supplies, “how about you get a fucking grip and start treating me with the respect I deserve?”

“Respect? Why the fuck should I respect you?”

Regina scoffed, “because if you don’t, I will make your life a living hell.”

“What the hell happened, Regina? What happened to us?”

“I grew up. You and Janis didn’t. Is that supposed to be my fault? It’s so fucking pathetic that you and her blame me when all I did was learn how to get what I want.”

“You know what I think, Gina?”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” She shoved you again.

“Answer the question.”

“Why do I care what you think?”

“I think you’re a big fucking liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I think that you’re a big. Fucking. Liar. For starters, you don’t despise me. And I think you actually care, a lot. And I think you have no idea how to get what you actually want, and that’s why you’re like this.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Just admit it already.” You were being bold. Maybe too bold. But for some reason, at this moment, you didn’t really care. If you were right, this could change everything. And you were pretty sure that you were right.

Regina never left you alone. All of these years had gone by and Regina never stopped tormenting you. She always put her hands on you every chance that she got. She didn’t continue to bother Janis in that way. But you always faced her wrath.

Regina was stunned into silence at your words.

You lowered your voice to a whisper, “you don’t hate me, do you, Regina?”

She squeezed your upper arms, digging her acrylic nails into your skin, “I… I…”

“Say it,” you leaned in and brought your lips right against her ear, “say that you crave me. Say that you always have.”

The blonde’s breath caught in her throat and she squeezed you harder, drawing blood with the points of her nails, “you’re such a fucking cunt…”

“That’s not a denial, is it?”

“Fuck you…” she whispered.

“No, Regina. I think I’d rather fuck you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? And wouldn't it be the biggest show of respect for me to give you exactly what you want?”

She grabbed your chin again. Your core tightened with terror, but then she yanked you close and captured your lips in a bruising kiss, immediately biting your bottom lip and pressing her tongue into your mouth, claiming you as hers.

Your instincts tell you to melt at her touch and just let her take you, but you knew it would be much more satisfying to get back at her just a little bit.

You matched the intensity of her kiss and fought her for control over it, bringing one hand to her waist and the other up to her neck, giving just the slightest squeeze and pulling away from her, you decided to tease, “there you go, Regina… isn’t that so much better?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me…”

Regina pressed into you again and kissed you even harder than before. The kiss was absolutely intoxicating and made you want to black out from pure bliss but you were determined to make sure that you didn’t take the back seat for even a second during this. You held onto her and pulled her in closer, pressing your chests against each other and burying your fingers into her hair as you kissed feverishly. You began to move your lips along her jawline, making her produce this delicious moan that you’d never forget. Your lips danced along her soft, sensitive skin and sucked at it lightly, teasingly, not to leave marks but to make her think you would. You grabbed her earlobe between your teeth and bit ever so slightly, and then kissed down her jugular.

You felt her begin to grind her hips against you and you giggled happily, “you wanted me so badly, didn’t you?”

She could only respond with a long moan of pleasure. Your own chest filled with warmth as your heart pounded, the blondes’ sounds sending shockwaves through your system and between your legs.

You grind your hips in tandem with her and create that friction you both need, “let me make you feel good, Gina. Let me take care of what you need, babygirl…”

“Fuck… fuck… yes… please… please…” she whined.

“Yeah? You want that?”

“Yes… ohmygod yes, please…”

You kiss Regina again and turn the both of you around, pushing her back against the shelves. You kiss her lips hungrily and then pull away slightly, her sticky lip gloss making a smacking sound when you separate, a string of spit connecting you. You whisper against her lips, “I’ve always wanted you…”

“Shut up…” she gasped, “shut up… just shut up and fuck me…”

“Aw,” you tease, “It’s cute that you think you’re calling the shots right now…”

Regina groaned, “you… fuck-”

“Relax, babygirl… I’m just teasing. You’ll get what you need, I promise.” You let your hands trail down her sides and untuck her shirt from her pants, tracing the pads of your fingers over her hip bones, “I’ve never wanted to deny you what you want, Gina… you want me to touch you?”

“God…” she groaned, “yes… touch me…”

You smile and slowly slide your hand down the front of her pants. She moans and bucks her hips forward. Your fingers graze over her panties and you can feel how wet she is. You simply move the gusset of her underwear to the side and start to rub your middle finger through her folds and she moans deeply, arching her back and leaning against the wall.

“You want this, Regina?”

“Yes… yes…”

You nod and start to circle her clit.

She sighs and grinds against you, “stop being so fucking gentle!”

“What’s wrong, Gina? Impatient?”

Regina groans and you give her what she wants by sliding your middle finger inside. You can tell straight away that she’s already close to finishing, her muscles clench around you and her knees go weak. You support her with your other arm and add your ring finger and start to pump your fingers in and out of her, curling them to hit that spot.

The blonde throws her head back and moans loudly, crying out your name. It’s music to your ears but you say, “shhh, Regina… don’t let everyone hear you cumming on the fingers of the person you’re supposed to hate the most…”

She groans again and lifts her arm up, biting down on her own forearm to silence herself.

“Good girl,” you praise. Regina moans and her eyes roll back. You had no idea you’d be able to make her fall apart so easily. She keeps rolling her hips, fucking herself on your fingers now rather than letting you continue to tease her. You indulge it and press your thumb on her clit and soon enough she’s completely coming undone. Regina’s body shakes erratically and you feel her walls tighten around your fingers as she comes.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuck…” she breathes, “fucking shit…” Regina grabs the front of your shirt and pulls you forward, kissing you deeply and pulling the hair at the nape of your neck.

You kiss her and moan into her mouth. She pulls on your hair and yanks your head back, “I hate you… I hate you so fucking much…”

“No you don’t… you’re confusing two strong emotions, Gina…”

“How the fuck do you know what I feel?”

You try to look into her bright blue eyes but can't see well in the dark closet, but you're certain you heard it in her voice. You lift your hand up to her cheek and caress your thumb over it, confirming your suspicions as you wipe a tear off of her skin.

You sigh, “because I feel it, too.”

Next Chapter

#regina george x reader #regina george fanfic #renee rapp regina george #renee rapp #mdni #18+ content #fanfiction #original writing #mean girls 2024 #regina george lesbian #incurable cravings #regina george

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demonvibez · 9 months

Text

Showering with Mammon

·Characters: Mammon x GN! Reader

·Word Count: 1800+

·Rating: Mature/Explicit ; Minors DNI

·Genre: Fluff, Smut

·Tags: fluff, mammon accidently walks in on reader, light punishment, smut, gender neutral sex, reader has GN body parts, mentions of fangs and marking, hand stuff, penetration

·A/N: this one was really cute fun to write! y'all know as our first, he would definitely be jumping at the chance to get into mc's shower! anyways, likes/comments/rb's are appreciated! lemme know which brother you'd wanna shower with next. ♡

You and the Avatar of Greed had been thick as thieves practically since the day you had dropped down into the Devildom and under his protection.

So it didn’t come to surprise anyone that Mammon had practically moved into your room after the two of you had forged a pact together.

He was so used to sharing the upstairs bathroom with five of his brothers, despite it always being crowded and disheveled after each of their uses.

He often kept a shower caddy full of various bath products given to him at the many modeling gigs he has worked - Shower Gels from Wersace, a custom hair care set from Goetia, and a plethora of skin care products from Majolish line the bottom of his tote.

Most days his routine is rather quick - wash hair, wash body, done. Some days, he likes to barricade the door and take his time to pamper himself.

So when Mammon starts spending more of his nights and days in your room, it is only natural that he also moves into your bathroom as well.

He ends up ditching the shower caddy, his bath products now lining the walls of your shower and the counter of your sink.

You have to scold him at first for always leaving wet towels and dirty clothes everywhere, but eventually the two of you fall into a routine.

You typically take your shower first, seeing as it is your bathroom after all, with Mammon taking his second to ensure you won't be late in the mornings.

Your system starts working perfectly, until one day a simple mishap changes everything between the two of you.

You were used to getting changed in the bathroom after you finished up your showers.

You were just stepping out of the shower, pulling a towel around your body when you suddenly hear Mammon shout out to you that he is going to grab something from his room real quick.

You don't reply to him, thinking he has left already. You don't hear any noise coming from your room, so you assume that you are all alone.

You drop your towel to the floor before walking towards the mirror by the sink, when all of the sudden, the door flies open and Mammon makes his way in without thinking.

"Hey, human! Did ya hear me or no- AHHHHHHHH!"

His eyes widen and his jaw drops to the floor as a deep rose blush creeps across his face.

The image of your naked form seers itself into his memory as his brain short circuits between lust and denial.

He moves his head to look away, a hand flying up to shield his blush from your eyes, but his own eyes keep darting back to you as his heart pounds in his chest.

You expect him to say or do something, but he's frozen there.

Your voice calling out his name breaks the silence, his brain kicking back into gear before he starts blabbering.

"W-w-what are ya doin?! I didn't see nothin'! I'm goin' out! I'll be back later!" he said as he made his way out of your bathroom, not allowing you to get a single word in.

You could have sworn you saw him steal one last little sneak peek at you before slamming the door closed on his way out.

You should probably be mad about the sudden invasion of privacy, but you always thought Mammon was adorable, and the entire situation was beyond hilarious.

At first this encounter made things a bit awkward for the two of you - or more accurately, it made Mammon act a bit awkward around you - but it ultimately brought the two of you closer together.

One morning, when the two of you are pressed for time, Mammon comes up with a brilliant idea - the two of you should just shower together!

You were a bit hesitant at first, as sharing a shower together would be quite intimate - especially at such an early time in the morning.

"I mean, we share a bed anyway! Why wouldn't ya wanna shower with The Great Mammon!?! Come on an’ hurry up, we're gonna be late for breakfast!"

Your first shower together was, yet again, a bit awkward, both unsure of what to do with each other.

Cheeks painted crimson and eyes darting rapidly, Mammon was a nervous mess, which you can't help but to find adorable - you let out a giggle.

"H-hey! What're ya laughin' at?! I ain’t lookin’ at nothin’! You’re just a human, what even is there ta see,” he stammered as he tried to hide his face behind one of his trembling hands.

You shook your head as you picked up the bottle of shampoo, squeezing a dollop into your hand with a grin across your face.

"Oh, nothing," you say as you reach up and begin to work his hair into a lather, "this was all your idea, you know."

His blush deepens at the feeling of your fingertips massaging his scalp, his eyes fluttering closed at the gentleness of your touch.

After scrubbing his hair for a little while, Mammon finally began to relax, and the two of you washed each other under the shower’s cascade, with tender touches and loving smiles.

You both took so long in the shower together that Lucifer let himself into your room and was waiting as the two of you walked in wrapped in towels, hair damp.

You both ended up receiving an hour and a half long lecture from the Avatar of Pride himself while tied down to your chairs in the middle of his private study.

Despite Lucifer's objections, the two of you continued to grow closer, and your bath times with Mammon grew more and more intimate.

One evening, after a particularly long week at RAD, Mammon decides it is time for the two of you to unwind together with a nice bubble bath.

He brings some of the LED lights from his room, setting them up around the outer edge of the bathtub, along with a nice bottle of champagne from the human realm and a bath bomb he stole from Asmodeus.

With the soothing atmosphere surrounding you both, the sound of the gentle fizz of the bath bomb in the air, you couldn't help but to sink into the warm water, relaxing into Mammon's arms as you leaned against him, your back pressed against his beautifully tan chest.

The moment Mammon has his arms around you, his resolve shatters and he can't help the sudden wave of greed that is washing over him, his arms tightening around you and his lips instantly finding your neck.

He whispers your name as his hands roam your body, his fangs lightly nipping at your neck as he feels your chest.

"Mine…mine…all mine," you hear him chanting in hushed tones against your skin as he gently marks you, one of his hands starting to travel down past your waist.

He starts teasing your sex as he starts kissing his way up to your ear, sending electricity through your body and making you crave him more.

Your sudden greed for him only turns him on even more, his pace getting faster as he sucks on your neck, his cock growing increasingly hard as you grind against his lap.

As he continues to toy with your most sensitive spots, he can’t hold himself back any longer, slipping himself inside of you in one slow, smooth motion.

The tight, snug feeling of you around him as he sinks into you makes him feel indescribably amazing, his demon form popping out instantly.

Mammon starts the pace out nice and slow, his hips moving his impossibly hard cock in and out of you as you grind against him just as slowly, one of his hands still stimulating you as the other grips your hip, his rings lightly digging into your soft flesh.

He starts to massage you faster, his own thrusting getting quicker as both of your moans grow louder, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sheer pleasure you’re feeling.

“S’right…cum for me, my human…wanna make ya feel good,” he moans into your ear as he continues through your orgasm, holding you down on his cock as he strokes you through your bliss.

He kisses your neck softly for a few moments as you catch your breath, before he picks you up and turns you around in his lap, sliding himself back into you once more with a moan.

His lips crash onto yours immediately as he wraps his arms around you, pouring passion into the kiss as he begins to bounce you on his cock.

Grabbing onto your ass, the pace continues to build again as the two of you exchange sloppy, greedy kisses, his wings wrapping around you to pull your bodies closer as the two of you lose yourselves in the moment - both of your hands grip at his scalp, one hand grabbing at his hair while the other grips one of his horns as the pleasure continues to build up inside of you.

Soon enough, the two of you are hitting your climax together, Mammon whisper-chanting sweetly against your lips as euphoria washes over you both.

“I love ya…I love ya…I love ya so damn much…”

You stayed there, cuddling in his arms and in his lap for a few minutes longer, until he noticed you shivering slightly as the water had gone cold.

He helped you to finish rinsing off before picking you up out of the bathtub and carrying you over to the sink counter, setting you down to go grab a towel to wrap you in.

After getting you dried off and dressing you in one of his black v-neck tees, he carries you over to your bed and sets you down before crawling under the covers with you, pulling you into a close snuggle.

His arms find their way around you as you rest your head against his chest, he tilts his head downward to press a kiss into the top of your head.

You let out a tired giggle, tilting your head up to steal a kiss from his lips, a huge smile on your face as you settle your cheek against his chest once again.

“I love you so much, my greedy demon. Sweet dreams,” you said with one last yawn as you drift off to sleep.

“I love ya too, treasure. I’ll always be here when ya wake up…” he whispered back to you, his own eyes growing heavy.

With his last final moments of wakefulness, Mammon couldn’t help but to think about how he was so damn lucky to find a treasure like you. You are worth more than all the Grimm in the Devildom - and he is determined to never lose you.

- demonvibez ♡ - likes/reblogs appreciated - do not copy/repost! -

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slaybestieslay946 · 2 months

Note

Luke Castellan and Persephone!Child (I know she doesn’t canonically have Demi-god kids but I feel like it fits well) with a story similar to Eurydice and Orpheus’s sad tale.

thank you so much for your request, it acc ties in really well to a fic idea ive had for a while, so i was so excited to see this in my inbox!!

Circle

MASTERLIST

word count: 1800

pairing: luke castellan x persephone!reader

warnings: death, minor depictions of violence, angst

a/n: partly inspired by the request, partly by mitski's song 'circle' honestly i think it made this extra gut-wrenching. hope you all enjoy!

'Nobody knows my lover, is buried underground.'

When Luke Castellan received his quest, everyone knew who he would pick to take with him.

Immediately, he turned to you, flashing you a bright grin, and beckoning you towards him. You laughed, wading through the crowd to your lover, smiling brightly all the way.

The rest of camp half blood rolled their eyes fondly at the pair of you, and just how disgustingly in love you were.

It had been like this ever since you arrived at camp half blood, mere months after Luke himself.

You’d been escorted to the Hermes cabin by one of the older campers, and sat down on a bunk bed. You had looked around the place, lost, confused, and homesick.

And then a boy stepped up to you, asking how you were, what your name was. And gods, even at the age of 14, you knew he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Luke thought the same about you.

He was so drawn to you, he couldn’t stay away.

Now, even 4 years later, nothing had changed.

He was openly enraptured by you, just as Hades was with your mother. He was never seen without you by his side, so of course he’d pick you to bring on his first quest.

A few days later, you set off, Luke’s half-brother, Chris Rodriguez in tow. Everything started off well, you’d managed to locate someone to tell you where the Garden of Hesperides was, in order to retrieve the golden apple that you had been sent for.

On the way there, you hardly encountered any monsters. You lived comfortably, even if you slept in motels every night, and dined on gas station food.

It all went downhill when you finally reached the garden.

You and Chris stood guard whilst Luke stepped towards the tree, no sword in his hand. You kept your spear gripped tightly in your hand, should he awake the dragon sleeping at his feet.

He eventually reached the foot of the tree, taking a deep breath before reaching up into the branches, and trying to snag one of the apples. Meanwhile, you didn’t take your eyes off the dragon, watching it for any sign of movement.

And when it finally opened its dark eye, looking up at Luke, you ran forward, sprinting towards it with your spear outstretched to stab it.

But you weren’t fast enough, and it turned, slashing a talon across your chest, and sending you collapsing onto the ground, blood soaking into your shirt.

Luke darted towards you and in his rush, he wasn’t able to avoid the sharp tail of the dragon whipping across his face, leaving a fine cut all the way down it.

He ignored the biting pain, barely able to register it when all he could see was you, lying on the floor, a pool of blood encircling you.

“Hey, Y/N.” He whispered, patting your cheek gently, cradling your body to his chest, “You’re gonna be alright, yeah? Just open your eyes for me baby.”

You struggled to do as he asked, looking up at your lover with confused eyes.

“You-” You coughed, “You have to go. It’s over for me. Gonna go see mom.”

“No, no. Gotta stay with me. We can get through this.” He cried, brushing his thumbs across your face.

“I- I- I love y-you. W-we’ll s-see each other ag-gain.” You did your best to smile, and while all you wanted to do was reach up and hold his face, you found you didn’t have the strength to do so.

He continued to cry and beg you to come back, but it was all for nothing, you’d gone silent, and your eyes were all still.

And then vines began to wrap around your body, pulling you into the earth, down towards Persephone, your mother.

Luke kept crying as they took you away from him, leaving nothing but your camp necklace behind.

“Hey, man, we gotta go.” He heard Chris call, and he whipped his head around to berate him, until he saw his half-brother was currently in combat with the dragon that had killed you.

He was right, they had to go.

He scooped your camp necklace off of the ground, and ran towards his brother, who detached from his fight with the dragon to run away from the garden. Luke followed after him, tears streaming down his face the whole way.

When Luke got back to camp, he was different. Numb.

Annabeth ran up to him when they descended the hill, a bright smile on her face at her older brother's return. It faded slightly when she saw you weren’t right beside him.

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked, looking around as if you’d pop out from nowhere.

“Gone.” Was all Luke could manage to say, pulling his little sister in for a hug he so desperately needed, confirmation that at least she was still here.

For the next few months, he barely left the Hermes cabin, only ever going down to the amphitheatre in the early hours of the morning, where he could be seen slashing recklessly at wooden dummies left right and centre.

He didn’t know how to live without you. He always thought you’d be with him forever. He had this vision that together you would grow old, and would die while sitting on some front porch, holding hands as you went at the same moment.

Now he realised that it was a pipedream. You were demigods, it was never going to work out like that.

But he couldn’t go on living like this. He didn’t want to wake up in the morning if you weren’t beside him. So he formed his plan, to go down to the underworld and retrieve you himself.

His father was the god of travellers, and your mother was the queen of the underworld. It could work.

So he travelled to the entrance to the underworld, your camp necklace in his hands, and prayed. First to your mother, asking for an audience, and second to his father, asking for use of his access to the underworld. It was the first time he had ever asked Hermes for anything, and if this worked, it would probably be the last. He’d never want for anything again if it meant you were with him again.

And it did work. The gate opened to him, a long staircase down into the darkness. Luke descended quickly; he didn’t want to keep Persephone, or you for that matter, waiting.

He soon found himself pushing through crowds of lost souls, keeping a look out for you, but you were nowhere in sight. He then turned his attention back to reaching Persephone’s throne, breathing a sigh of relief as he finally found himself at the foot of it, looking up at the goddess herself.

“You requested an audience with me, Mr Castellan. I hope this is not about my daughter.” Persephone said sternly, looking down at the demigod, her fears confirmed when she saw the string of beads clutched in his hands.

“It is, but-”

“There’s no buts. I can’t do anything about your predicament. It is not within my jurisdiction.” She declared, her voice growing regretful, “My daughter is in Elysium, and that’s where she must stay.”

“My lady, I understand that this is difficult for you. But we both know Y/N… died before her time. She would want to come back. She deserves to have a life.”

“And you would give that to her?”

“Yes.”

“And you would protect her, better than I can?”

Luke gulped, “Just as well.”

The goddess sighed, and muttered, almost to herself, “We have had this problem before, persuasive mortals and their tales of love. Let’s see if you can fare any better, Luke Castellan.”

“I will release my only daughter from the underworld, on one condition. As you lead her back into the world of the living, you mustn’t look back at her. She will be following you, trust me on that, demigod.”

“And if I do? Look back?”

“Then you will never see her again. Not in your world, nor mine,” She looked down at him once again, a sad look in her eyes, “Now go, exit through the fields of asphodel, she will follow you from there.”

Luke nodded firmly, and turned back around, returning the way he came, smiling more brightly than he had in months.

He was going to see his Y/N again, all he had to do was not look back at her, how difficult could that be?

He pushed his way back through the fields of asphodel, keeping a tight hold of her camp beads. As soon as they reached the surface, he would string them around her neck again. He’d be able to hold her face in his palms, to kiss her, to hug her. Everything would be alright again.

As he returned to the staircase, he felt a rush of wind behind him. It had to be her. Then, to confirm his suspicions, he heard soft footsteps on the stone staircase. Luke smiled to himself once again, wishing so desperately that he could greet her, but not wanting to break Persephone’s rules.

He continued up the staircase for what felt like hours, it was definitely taking him a lot longer this time. The thing that kept him going was your footsteps behind him, a reminder that you were still there, following after him.

Until they stopped, right as he became able to see the light coming from the living world above him.

He paused for a moment, listening out for you. But he couldn’t hear anything besides his panting breaths and the odd screech of a harpy.

Luke began to grow worried, a pit forming in his stomach, but he kept climbing the stairs. Persephone told him you’d be following, she wouldn’t lie, would she?

Or maybe it was all some elaborate joke. Fortune hadn’t been on his side recently.

Maybe he should check. Just a peek, it couldn’t hurt, could it? What was so wrong about him looking back anyway, why shouldn’t he want to see his lover, the girl he would do anything for?

So he did. He turned, to look over his shoulder.

And of course, you were right behind him, just like your mother said you would.

At first you looked joyful to see him, and then your face fell in horror as you realised what he had done. You reached out to touch him, to hold on, but you couldn’t quite reach. And then you felt yourself being pulled back, away from him.

Luke watched on in horror as you fell back into the abyss.

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #fanfic #pjo #luke castellan #x reader #angst #mitski #mitski circle #mitski lyrics

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ms-demeanor · 8 months

Note

Since some people might want a Mac, I'll offer a Mac equivalent of your laptop guide from the perspective of a Mac/Linux person.

Even the cheapest Macs cost more than Windows laptops, but part of that is Apple not making anything for the low end of the tech spectrum. There is no equivalent Mac to an Intel i3 with 4 gigabytes of RAM. This makes it a lot easier to find the laptop you need.

That said, it is possible to buy the wrong Mac for you, and the wrong Mac for you is the 13-inch MacBook Pro with the Touch Bar. Get literally anything else. If it has an M2 chip in it, it's the most recent model and will serve you well for several years. Any new MacBook Air is a good pick.

(You could wait for new Macs with M3, but I wouldn't bother. If you are reading these guides the M3 isn't going to do anything you need done that a M2 couldn't.)

Macs now have integrated storage and memory, so you should be aware that whatever internal storage and RAM you get, you'll be stuck with. But if you would be willing to get a 256 gig SSD in a Windows laptop, the Mac laptop with 256 gigs of storage will be just as good, and if you'd be willing to get 8 gigs of RAM in a Windows laptop the Mac will perform slightly better with the same amount of memory.

Buy a small external hard drive and hook it up so Time Machine can make daily backups of your laptop. Turn on iCloud Drive so your documents are available anywhere you can use a web browser. And get AppleCare because it will almost certainly be a waste of money but wooooooow will you be glad it's there if you need it.

I get that you are trying to help and I am not trying to be mean to you specifically, but people shouldn't buy apple computers. That's why I didn't provide specs for them. Apple is a company that is absolutely terrible to its customers and its customers deserve better than what apple is willing to offer.

Apple charges $800 to upgrade the onboard storage from a 256GB SSD to a 2TB SSD.

A 2TB SSD costs between $75-100.

I maintain that any company that would charge you more than half the cost of a new device to install a $100 part on day one is a company making the wrong computer for you.

The point of being willing to tolerate a 256GB SSD or 8GB RAM in a Windows laptop is that you're deferring some of the cost to save money at the time of purchase so that you can spend a little bit in three years instead of having to replace the entire computer. Because, you see, many people cannot afford to pay $1000 for a computer and need to buy a computer that costs $650 and will add $200 worth of hardware at a later date.

My minimum specs recommendations for a mac would be to configure one with the max possible RAM and SSD, look at the cost, and choose to go buy three i7 windows laptops with the same storage and RAM for less than the sticker price of the macs.

So let's say you want to get a 14" Macbook pro with the lowest-level processor. That's $2000. Now let's bump that from 16GB RAM and a 512GB SSD to 32GB and 2TB. That gets you to $3000. (The SSD is $200 less than on the lower model, and they'll let you put in an 8TB SSD for $1800 on this model; that's not available on the 13" because apple's product development team is entirely staffed by assholes who think you deserve a shitty computer if you can't afford to pay the cost of two 1991 Jeep Cherokee Laredos for a single laptop).

For $3000 you can get 3 Lenovo Workstation laptops with i7 processors, 32GB RAM, and a 2TB SSD.

And look, for just $200 more I could go up to 48GB RAM and get a 4TB SSD - it costs $600 to upgrade the 14" mac from a 2TB SSD to a 4TB SSD so you could still get three laptops with more ram and the same amount of storage for the cost of one macbook.

I get that some people need to use Final Cut and Logic Pro, but hoo boy they sure are charging you through the nose to use products that have become industry standard. The words "capture" and "monopoly" come to mind even though they don't quite apply here.

"Hostile" does, though, especially since Mac users end up locked into the ecosystem through software and cloud services and become uncertain how to leave it behind if they ever decide that a computer should cost less than a month's rent on a shitty studio apartment in LA.

There's a very good reason I didn't give mac advice and that's because my mac advice is "DON'T."

#sorry i swear i know you're being nice #i am incapable of being nice when talking about apple #i was a total apple fangirl until the unibody #which is the domino that started all the other companies pulling shit like soldered RAM #they said 'fuck you - users shouldn't service their own computers' and I say 'fuck apple - users shouldn't use macs'#and that has been my stance on the matter since 2012 #which was the last time i bought a macbook because i knew i'd never buy a computer that would fight me to change my own battery

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foolsocracy · 10 months

Text

With all the age discourse around Spider-Man Noir right now, I thought I’d compile parts of the comic that imply his age. I want to state that this pulling from his 2009-2010 comic run before the time skip, specifically the first volume. The spiderverse movie has taken a lot of liberties with the characters, so it is very possible that what Peters age is in 1933 in the comics is NOT what his age is in 1933 in the movies.

Peter’s age is not directly stated in his 1st comic run (I can’t speak for the 2020 ones because it has been a while since I read them, plus there’s like a 10 year jump). It IS however heavily implied that he is young. So much so that you can’t seem to go more than a page without someone referencing it.

Like, these all happen in the same scene. The writers beat you over the head with it.

In this issue alone Peter is called both “son” and “sonny” once, “boy” twice, and “kid” 8 times. Outside nouns, he is also referred to as young, and when Urich brings him to The Black Cat, Felicia calls it “babysitting.” Urich also asks Peter if he is “allowed out after midnight” but after some research I can’t seem to find any evidence of NYC having juvenile curfews at this point in time, though they did exist in lots of towns in the late 1800s and early 1900s because of child labor laws. I think this instance is just Pete just being young and an adult being concerned about his well-being.

It is also mentioned in this volume, and again in Eyes Without a Face (vol 2), that Peter wants to go to college in the future and is currently studying & saving up money to do so. This alone doesn’t necessarily mean he’s under 18 as there isn’t a max age to apply for college, plus Peter comes from a poor family during the Great Depression. It wouldn’t surprise me if he started college later than usual because of that (lack of funds & catching up due to not being in school/working).

There is other evidence that does imply he is under 18 though— he’s too young to drink alcohol!

Spider-Man Noir Vol 1 issue 1 starts in January 1933 before jumping back three weeks to December 1932 where Ben Urich meets Peter Parker

It is during December 1932 that he meets Felicia Hardy who owns the speakeasy The Black Cat. Prohibition is still in place and won’t be overwritten until a year later in December 1933. It is important to note that before Prohibition was instated, the drinking age in New York was 18 years old. That law is what the characters reference when they discuss drinking age. And most importantly, Peter doesn’t deny the fact that he’s too young to drink. He just snarks back in true Parker fashion

This is the most concrete evidence there is towards Peter being under 18 in the noirverse. It can even be argued that Peter is under 17 with how easily Felicia picks up on the fact that he’s underage (and that she does so from a distance might I add, as seen in the ‘babysitting’ panel).

There is also a panel where JJJ refers to Peter as an “orphan.” By definition, an orphan is a kid under 18. This is JJJ, so this can be taken with a grain of salt as he loves good ol hard-hitting words. When people speak they don’t always use words by their exact definitions; sometimes if you’re young and your parents are dead, JJJ is going to label you an orphan even if ur a legal adult lol. But if you take this at face value it’s definitely another indicator that Peter is under 18.

TLDR; Spider-Man Noir from his 2009-2010 comic run is most likely under 18, and can be argued to be 15-16+. If not that, then is definitely college aged or younger.

#Hoping praying the format is ok #Tumblr mobile is the death of me #Spider-Man noir #spiderman noir #spider noir #spiderverse #peter benjamin parker #hes just a little guy #ben urich #jj jameson #felicia hardy #Ok gn everyone #Snork memenemememee #If I wake up and the format is ass I’ll repost lol

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 30 days

Text

Word count: 1800+

Warnings: confusion, jealousy (just in case), but otherwise nothing

Part XIII | Part XV

You opened your eyes. The memories of your childhood that Rhysand revived, swirled in your mind. You were on the verge of tears. Parents. Their faces shone bright in your mind. Beautiful, smiling. How could you forget them? And your older brother, ever so loving, caring and protective. His two best friends. Morrigan. Your friends in camps. And so many others. How could you forget them all?

Old feelings mingled with your current ones. It was a bit overwhelming and confusing. You would definitely need time to process the chaos in your head and heart. You should have stopped him sooner, but once you saw fragments of your past, you wanted more.

Big, warm hand squeezed your right one, drawing small circles with a thumb. You looked in that direction. Azriel was kneeling next to you, his eyes scanning your face with worry. You knew him. You knew him for so long. The comfort and peace you felt with him before, doubled. He was always your support, understanding your feelings more than anyone else.

He was worried about you, so you sent him a small smile, assuring him you are okay. Tension in his face melted away, his eyes watered. Even without words he understood. As always.

You turned to your left where you felt another hand holding yours, but the squeeze was much weaker. Rhysand was half sitting, half lying, his side pressed into backrest of sofa, eyes closed. He was pale. If you didn't see his chest heaved with shallow breaths, you would think the worst.

"Rhys?" Your voice was shaking.

Corners of his mouth lifted in a faint smile. "It's the first time you called me Rhys since you came."

"Oh, you jerk." You playfully hit his shoulder and then hugged him. He returned the hug without hesitation. "I'm so sorry," you mumbled into his shoulder. "You should have said something."

"There's nothing to apologize for. I am sorry for all you had to go through. Before and especially since you came here. I know it wasn't easy for you."

You didn't say anything to that mainly because your feelings were all out of place.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm, just bit tired. It was harder than I thought."

"Why didn't you say something? We could-"

"It's okay," he stopped you. "I just need to rest. That's all. And you ought to do so too. I bet you have a lot to think about." He rubbed your back.

You were about to offer him helping to get to his room, but he stopped you before you could open your mouth with shake of his head. "Rest. We will talk about everything later."

Gnawing your lower lip you nodded and stood up. Azriel also got up, following you out of the office, silent like a shadow. Once doors closed behind you, you turned to him.

"I'm fine, Az. Really."

"I'll just walk you to your room."

"I can do that," you smiled. "But I'd love to ask you to take care of him. I think he's more exhausted than he admits." Your gaze travelled back to the office doors.

"Okay," he nodded, looking at you curiously. "Now you really remember." Small amused smile played on his lips, but his eyes were full of sadness and something you couldn't place.

You stepped closer, surprising Azriel with an innocent kiss on his cheek. His body went rigid, eyes widened. This was a game you two used to play, when you were younger, always catching him by surprise. Knowing you since you were born, he usually let his guard down around you, which allowed you to get into his personal space easily. You also learnt a few tricks from him.

"I do," you hummed. His fingers touched the place you kissed and he blushed fiercely. Chuckling you turned around and walked away, leaving him gaping at your back.

You'd turned the corner walking to the main hall towards the staircase.

"I don't understand what he sees in you," a sweet voice spoke from your right. There in the doors to the kitchen stood one of Feyre's sisters, Elain, if you remembered correctly.

"Excuse me?" you raised a brow at her, surprised that she spoke to you.

"Since you came everything is only about you," she said, her brows furrowed. "He also has eyes only for you. Even now, why did he have to be by your side?"

"I have no idea what are you talking about. Who's the he supposed to be anyway?" You'd never talked with her, actually hadn't met her properly until now. But you didn't like the way she looked at you.

Elain looked at you with utter disgust and then just simply pivoted, showing you her back and walked away. Stunned you blinked rapidly. You looked around hoping somebody else witnessed this and could explain you her behaviour. Unfortunately you were alone.

"…bitch…" You heard her low voice as she was muttering something in the kitchen.

Frustrated you returned to your room, decided to forget about that weird incident in the hall and rather concentrate on processing all new feelings.

You took a seat in one of the armchairs you became so fond of and gazing out to the garden you slowly roamed through new memories. It felt like finding pieces of puzzle you didn't realise that were missing. The emptiness you had always felt diminished.

It was hard to say how you felt, what you felt toward people who in few hours changed from strangers to well known faces, family. However you knew for sure that the feelings from before living in Spring Court, weren't so intensive anymore. They were still strong, but strangely subdued at the same time. It was confusing and you could only hope that with time it would clear out.

You didn't know when, but your thoughts wandered back to the cottage. And to him. What was he doing now? Did he already forget about you? Suddenly you felt blue. You'd like to talk with him now. It would certainly help you to sort out the things. You reached for the pendant he gave you, hidden under the clothes. It gave you a feeling of the kind of comfort you felt only with him.

Behind shut eyelids you found yourself back in the forest in front of your cottage, Tamlin stood on the threshold, his back to you. As if feeling your presence, he turned around and when his eyes found yours he smiled happily. Tamlin's emerald eyes and golden hair shone in the sunlight filtering through the treetops. It was so peaceful moment. The moment that was interrupted by a knock on the door.

You exhaled shakily, your heart beating too fast. What was that? It was so real that your chest hurt. You rubbed a non-existent wound and when another soft knock sounded, you called out to whoever it was, to enter. Golden brown head peeked in from behind the door. It was Feyre.

"Can I come in? I brought you something to eat."

You nodded, grateful for her care.

"You missed the lunch, so I thought you might be hungry," she said placing tray on a small table. She looked somehow nervous, eyeing the other armchair. You hadn't talked much with your sister-in-law yet, but she seemed to be a kind person. You asked her to sit down with you. The smile she conjured, was dazzling.

"I just wanted to let you know that Rhys is okay or better say, he will be. Azriel helped him to get to the bed, he ate and now he's napping."

"I'm relieved to hear that," you said and to your own surprise, really meant it. Rhysand was your brother, your blood. He mattered. Words that held no meaning yesterday, were so important now. You pushed those thoughts back before you began spiralling and rather focused on Feyre.

"I'm happy you are here," she whispered. "He needed you. Even though he has all of us, he needed you. He might not admit it openly, but since the tragedy that happened to your mother and you, he wished only for one thing: to have both of you back by his side. He was so lonely."

A lump rose in your throat. You were at a loss for words.

Feyre was nervously playing with her fingers. "I understand how he feels and what this means to him, but.. I noticed that you were.. well, you still are unhappy here. It reminds me of how I felt back at Spring.. I tried to convince him to let you go back. Don't take me wrong. I like you and I'd love you to be here, but if this isn't the place you want to be.."

"But he rejected," you noted, swallowing bitterness in your mouth. Feyre nodded.

"Please, don't be angry with him for that. He believes this is the only way how to protect you."

"Are you angry with Tamlin for doing the same?" You eyed her curiously.

She looked into the garden, her gaze wandered unfocused. "At that time I was angry, very angry. Now I kind of understand. It was his way of dealing with his trauma. He was so kind to me before and even to my family. What happened under the mountain broke us all. And what helped one, hurt someone else. Now seeing into Rhys' heart I do understand how Tamlin felt. I hope he will find his happiness, too." Even though Feyre just whispered the last sentence, she meant it.

Now it was your turn to answer, but you couldn't do so right away. Searching how you actually felt about that, your fingers once again found the pendant, playing with it. "I'm not angry," you said after a while. "Now when I have part of my memories back, I think I understand, too."

"But you still want to return," Feyre finished for you. "To him." A gentle smile spread across her face as she watched your fingers. You nodded.

"Do you like him?"

Your eyes widened. For some reason you were embarrassed. Like Tamlin? Yes, you liked him, but Feyre was probably referring to different kind of 'like'. "I- I like his company," you stuttered.

She giggled. "You can be honest with me. It'll remain just between us. I won't tell anyone."

You pulled your knees up to your chest, distressed. Feyre watched you curiously, head tilted to the side, a knowing grin on her face. "He's a good male and very kind. Lucien said that your presence helped him recover."

"The redhead?" you sat up straight. She nodded. So he wasn't lying when he said they were friends.

Feyre pressed her lips together, light amusement was replaced by seriousness. "Although I'm afraid of what happened with him after your abrupt departure."

After that Feyre left, muttering something about food getting cold and necessary rest, leaving you even more confused and on top of it worried.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt

#tamlin fanfiction #tamlin x reader #tamlin acotar #tamlin #pro tamlin #english isnt my first language #acotar fanfiction #acotar #rhysand #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #feyre archeron #elain archeron #sarah j maas

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addthespaghetti · 5 months

Text

She’s Mine

i’m not even going to lie, i listened to so much pierce the veil while writing this. so the ending is based of off a match into water because i can.

warnings: drinking, sexual reference, angst, fluff, and violence

1800+ words

You love your job. You do. Saving people, working together closely with people you consider family, and most of all, it led you to meet the love of your life, Emily Prentiss.

When you met Emily, it was like your life finally made sense. You worked hard to get into the BAU, ignoring your social life and, most importantly, your love life. You felt like you had no other purpose than getting into the BAU.

You thought you would feel fulfilled, finally getting the job of your dreams. Once you got that call that you got the job, you had the feeling of etterath. You got the job you gave up your entire life for, but now you have no one, no friends, no family, and no one to celebrate your accomplishment with.

The day you started at the BAU, you were excited for the first time in years, but you still couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness.

You felt it the entire time it took you to get ready, aware of it as you drove to the FBI building in Quantico and on the elevator ride up to the BAU.

While opening the big glass doors to enter the bullpen, you heard a woman laugh, a laugh you were immediately captivated by. You looked to find a source of that laughter, and that's when you saw her sitting at her desk, laughing at something someone said. Usually, you would be interested in what she was laughing about, but you couldn't focus on anything but her beautiful smile and gorgeous dark brown hair.

After that day, your crush on Emily grew, but you could never figure out if she had feelings for you back.

Until one girls' night, Penelope wanted to go to a bar that had just opened because she had heard they have good drinks. So you and the girls stayed out late, drinking away the stress from the last case.

You woke up the next morning naked in a strange bed, confused by what you did. You weren't the type of person to have random hookups. When you finally decided to look at the woman's bed you were in, you were shocked to see your coworker, Emily Prentiss. You weren't surprised that you hooked up with Emily. You would have done that if she asked. You were more shocked that she hooked up with you.

Fast forward six months later, and you and Emily have been dating for five months. You could not be happier, and neither could Emily.

Just because you love your job doesn't mean you don't have moments where you hate it. Like right now, you are in Emily's lap, making out with her when your phone rang.

"Fuck!" you groan as you get out of her lap to grab your phone.

Emily, stretching out her arms, trying to pull you back onto her lap, she states in an irritated tone, "Just let it ring. If it is so important, they will call back."

You look at Emily, debating your options. You really wanted to continue to make out with Emily, but you know that is probably Penelope calling about a case.

"Emily, we can't. You and I both know that call is Penelope with a case." You look at Emily with an apologetic look as you pick up the phone.

Emily sighs, "I know, but you look so good right now."

You duck your head, trying to hide your blushing face from Emily as you answer the call from Penelope.

"Yes, Penny?" You speak in a calm tone.

In a very energetic and fast tone, Penelope tells you, "Case we have a very yucky awful case."

"I figured, oh, and Penelope?" You ask.

"Yes, my favorite fruity friend?" She asks in the same energetic tone.

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, "Garcia, how much coffee have you had today?"

"Technically, I only had one," Penelope said while shaking from the caffeine.

You look at Emily with an exasperated look on your face. You weren't trying to get annoyed at Penelope, but her fake math concerned you with how unhealthy it is most of the time.

Emily stood up and grabbed the phone from your hand, "Garcia, we are on our way, and when we get to Quantico, I am taking away your caffeine and switching you to decaf."

"WAIT WHAT, ARE YOU DOING WI-" Garcia yells into the phone before Emily hangs up.

You stand there surprised at what Emily did before she looks at you, "What? You better start getting ready. We don't want to be late." She tells you with a smirk on her face.

"That was hot," you fake cough, "We might be sick and need to stay home from this case." You try to grab your girlfriend, but she walks away to get ready.

You groan and decide to get ready. Grabbing your phone, you connect it to your speaker and start to play music.

You and Emily get ready quickly with only minimal distractions. You couldn't stop teasing each other, but luckily, you learned to get dressed fast during high school.

The car ride to the BAU was filled with lengthy touches and quick kisses. Emily wouldn't let go of your thigh while she was driving. She almost caused an accident because of it.

After getting to the FBI building, you and Emily walked in together, talking about random stuff while riding to the sixth floor.

As soon as you both walk into the round table room, you and your girlfriend are immediately questioned by Hotch, "You late. Where were you?"

You look over at Emily, having no idea what to say. You and Emily decided not to tell the team you were dating yet, but that can cause issues like now.

"We went out last night, and she stayed at my apartment. When we got the call from Penelope, I had to drive her to her apartment so she could grab her go bag and get ready." Emily quickly responded to Hotch.

"That is fine. Just don't let that happen again." Hotch said in his usual serious tone.

You do not know where your girlfriend got her lying skills, but you were lucky she had them because Hotch believed her. You and Emily quickly sat down in a seat to not get reprimanded by Hotch.

After Penelope explained the case, everyone went to the bullpen to grab their things, striking up a casual conversation here and there.

Thirty minutes later, the whole team, minus Penelope, was on their way to the sunny state of Florida.

This case was crazy and took many unexpected turns, but you shouldn't have expected any less from a Florida case. Still, you were surprised when what was supposed to be a routine talk with a witness ended with you getting stabbed. You were also left with a sizable scar on your chest as a result of that.

On the way back to Quantico, the jet was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

You sat in the back of the plane alone, with your headphones in, listening to your favorite songs, trying to stay awake. You haven't been able to sleep without having a nightmare since your attack, and you are worried you will have one on the jet if you fall asleep.

What you don't notice is your girlfriend staring at you from across the jet, worried about how you are coping with your attack.

Rossi moves across from Emily, "You know, just staring at her is not going to magically make her better, kid."

"I know, I just don't know what to do. I wish I could take all of the pain away she is feeling," Emily says, looking at the older man.

"You love her," Rossi says more as a statement than a question.

Before Emily could squeak out a defense, Rossi quickly spoke, "Emily, I'm not going to judge you, but you know she has been through a lot now and in her past. You need to be there for her, be the shoulder for her to cry on. Make sure you remind her how much you love her. You cannot take away her pain, but you can help her cope and learn to grow."

Emily looked over at you before she spoke again, "I will. Thank you, Dave."

"It's no problem, kid. You learn a thing or two after three marriages," He jokes.

Emily grins at his joke while turning to look at you again. This time, you notice her and give her a weak smile. She smiles back at you. She looks at your tired features that highlight your lack of sleep and feels a sense of worry wash over her.

After the jet lands, Hotch lets everyone go home early. Before you could leave, Derek invited everyone out to grab some drinks. You didn't want to say no because everyone said they were coming, and you felt bad being the only one not going.

So now you sit at the bar alone. Drinking when you definitely shouldn't because of the medication you are on. All because Hotch and JJ left early for their kids, Rossi and Spencer left because it was past their bedtime, and everyone else is dancing.

When Emily finally comes to the table and sees you not having a good time, she decides to call a cab and take you home.

It took her a while to get you to her apartment because of how drunk you were, but as soon as she opened the door, you immediately walked to the couch to sleep. Since Emily is an incredible girlfriend, she got you up and dragged you to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

After she washed your face and brushed your teeth because you could barely walk, she went to unbutton your shirt to change your bandages, but you immediately stopped her.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Emily asks, concern in her voice.

The alcohol in your system was making you honest, "I'm ugly. The scar ruined my body," you said with tears rolling down your cheek.

"You are not ugly. You are as gorgeous as ever," Emily reassures you.

"But-" before you can finish your sentence, Emily kisses you to stop your self-deprecating.

Emily breaks apart your kiss and speaks against your lips, "You are the most beautiful person I have ever met, and no scar will ever make me feel different."

"Change my bandages, Emily," you look at Emily with tears and love in your eyes.

Emily unbuttons your shirt slowly and takes it off your shoulders. She slowly peels off your bandages and grabs the supplies to clean the wounded area. After she disinfects the scar, she leans down and kisses the mark.

Emily looks up at you, "Your so beautiful, and I never want to lose you. You are my best friend."

"I love you too," you say with tears rolling down your cheek again.

That night, you fall asleep in Emily's arms without one nightmare in sight.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #paget brewster #criminal minds #self insert #no y/n #angst #fluff

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anika-ann · 7 months

Text

Little Miss Red (R.D.)

Type: blurb, one-shot, drabble (for me it's drabble-length okay)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader Word count: 1800

Summary: Ransom’s looking for a good time tonight.

When you walk through the door, he knows he’ll get it. And you? Oh you’ll get it too. He's going to make sure of it.

Warnings: NSFW FILTH, 18+, smut!!! I mean it. Filth, y’all. Fingering, oral sex. Written in Ransom’s voice, so language and greyish lizard brain. Hints of degradation, praise kink and innocence kink.

A/N: this is COMPLETELY on @chase-your-dreams-away who claimed she has no time to write it after just throwing the plot bunny out here with @murdock-and-the-sea supporting her.

A/N: divider by amazing @firefly-graphics; the title of the fic does not refer to dd/lg dynamics nor the actual body proportions of the reader

Ransom knew he was going to have fun with you the moment you walked through the door.

A little unsteady on your feet, but deeply embarrassed expression coating your face when you stumbled and swiftly righted yourself; unsure on your high heels, not drunk out of your mind. Little red dress hugging your ass and not much else lower, the hem riding up higher than midthigh as it had probably been intended, your hands quick to remedy it. Cheap make-up which he could spot a mile away, a courtesy of being the child of small-business-loving mother.

You looked so out of place in the luxurious club and so out of your debt that Ransom knew he wanted to play cat and mouse with you.

Except you were definitely a kitten; there was no arguing it later when you nervously tasted the head of his cock, shy kitten licks turning into a small purr around his head when you tried to wrap your lips around him, clearly doing so for the first time.

He knew that was what you were looking for when you came in. He was good at reading people – that was what made him so good at his game. Your sinfully red lipstick spoke for itself and he predicted that the night was going to end up with that colour smeared all over him, with mascara running down your cheeks. He had you blinking up at him with tender wonder and want with just a few sweet words and lured you in into the private saloon with a promise of a good time and being a gentleman.

When his mouth found yours after two minutes of idle meaningless chitchat, you had smiled contentedly into the kiss. Your breath quickened as soon as his tongue pushed between your lips, a silent squeak into his mouth – but leaning into his touch eagerly, heart like a cute little hummingbird – when his hands started wandering to your breasts, so prettily wrapped in the crimson dress. Yes. You might be of limited experience and playing coy, but you came here for one thing and Ransom was happy to give it as long as he got to take from you much more.

You responded to even the faintest touch. When he ran his fingers through your folds over the absurdly thin excuse for an underwear, you were already soaking and fuck, the needy whine that escaped your swollen lips when he circled your puffy nub… it almost made him cum in his damn pants. He was going to eat you up.

If he wasn’t so determined to see your red mouth around him, he’d take your cunt. She was sucking his fingers right in, greedy for more, and yet it was almost as tight as if you were a virgin and was just as sensitive. He’d know; he had taken plenty. He loved stealing their innocence, ruining them for other men. He breathed in the power he gained when he was the first to claim that territory, all warm, wet and so damn snug; having them cry his name as their pain, that delicious pain he both caused and took away, blended into pleasure and pleas for more. Breathy. Needy. Begging so sweet and filthy, obscenities spilling from those good girl lips that had trembled a bit at the size of his cock and yet took it so well.

You asked for more too, weak voice coming out in gasps as he stuffed the third finger in, the squelch of your juices filling the space and sending blood straight under his belt. By the time you were trapping his fingers in with how hard he made you cum, he was ready to burst the second you’d take him to your throat. It was a thrilling game of control and self-control; and he’d always win.

You were a fast learner. After paying attention to the head, you took him in and sucked experimentally, eyes fluttering shut when he placed his big hand on your nape, encouraging you to take more. And so you did. Fast learner; eager learner. Ransom loved them eager to please him, especially when they were first timers, face all flushed at the mere suggestion of sucking him off at first. Now? Your nose was on his pubic bone, hair ruffled from how he gripped you close for his tip to brush your throat, your pretty cheap make-up running, lipstick all where he needed it.

As a bonus, you clawed your hands on him all over; over his thighs, over his ass, pushing away and pulling closer, your hips bucking forward in search of friction. And fuck if that didn’t get him going; his Little Miss Red enjoyed the hell out of sucking a cock and choking at it, gagging and grabbing at him as if she didn’t feel him deep enough. Who would have thought.

“That’s it, kitten, that’s it, take my load…” he coaxed you and caressed your hair with his free hand, lost to the vibration around him when you hummed in agreement, purring like a little obedient affection-hungry kitten indeed.

“Oh baby, look at you, a good little girl acting like such a whore for a big cock, hm? Fucking love that virgin mouth. Look at the mess you’re making of yourself for me.”

You had. You struggled to swallow and breathe, saliva pooling and escaping your mouth but damn, you were so excited to do better, holding onto his ass, his inner thighs, trying to brush your weepy core against his shin to earn some of that friction you so obviously craved.

Your fingers stroked over his balls and he spilled down your throat with a satisfied groan, fingers in your hair flexing to keep you there and swallow it all as you coughed and sputters, more black streaks painted your pretty face, throat spasming with a choked sound.

You curiously left him in your mouth as he softened, that little experimental lick almost enough for him to get hard again. He pulled you up and walked back to the couch to tug you into his lap, claiming your mouth with his own, tasting his victory in the salty tang on your tongue. What a sweet picture you made; a fucked out mess, eager for more, innocence ruined. He almost took a photo to make the euphoria last longer.

But you got shy again, all wide-eyed, when he pulled out a wipe from his breast pocket, spitting a bit to clean your face up from the worst smudges.

“Told you I’d be a gentleman, didn’t I, kitten? Can’t have you walk around the club like this, everyone would know what you’ve been up to,” he smirked, cock twitching at your meek thank you and the little spark in your eye that told him that you might like that. You might enjoy other people knowing what was in your mouth and now in your belly, wear your ruined cute face like a badge of honour.

Fuck, he could keep you. If he only cared enough for the shit that came with keeping just one girl at his arm. Keeping anyone, really.

Your legs were a little wobbly after he tested you were wet for him again and you buckled into his touch, but he sent you walking out with your purse all alone, satisfied for the night – or at least half of it. Still sprawled on the couch, he tucked himself in and gathered his breath and composure before he returned to the few bearable members of his fraternity fraction. They hit up a club every once in a while, a little hunting trip for pussy. The one who’d score first during the night out paid for the drinks.

Ransom’s smirk widened as he stepped back into the main room. He had no doubt he was the winner tonight; that feeling was damn worth the few hundred bucks he’d pull out of his Valentino-

The smirk slipped from his face when all his palm was the fabric of his empty pocket, his lips parting with mute shock, anger flaring up in an instant.

“Son of bitch-“

His head snapped up, instinctively searching for you; and finding you by the entrance again. You smiled at him sweetly, one corner of your sinfully red lips higher in a smirk as you waved his wallet at him. He froze mid-step.

Blowing him a cheeky kiss, you dropped your timid demeanour like a paper-thin mask, letting it drift towards the floor as slowly as you sunk to your knees for him.

An act. He had fallen for a cheap fucking act. You were no first timer; you were far from shy, apparently.

With bitter clarity, he recalled your hands clawing at his ass when he had thought he had it all under his control, including you, as you struggled to breathe. Your throat spasmed so sweetly, showing him heaven, while he dragged you to hell.

Or he had believed so. Now, watching you disappear behind the door as if you had been nothing but a fever dream, it was easy to see it was the other way around; or maybe you were both going to hell already.

A fist bumped into his shoulder, laughter of his wannabe friends reaching his ears.

“Well, well, well, looks like someone already scored tonight,” Harold howled, cackling as other guys booed and whistled. “Drinks are on Drysdale tonight, y’all!”

Oh Ransom would be drinking tonight, alright. Son of a bitch. That little, little bitch.

“She stole my wallet,” Ransom muttered, barely audible, still hypnotizing the door as if you were to come back. Yeah right.

“Wait what? Dude! You gotta block your credit card and call the cops before she buys a fucking Ferrari at your expense or something! Come on!”

The outrage in his Bryan’s voice snapped Ransom from his stupor, his head slowly turning to the man who spoke the sound advice.

The image of the check Little Miss Red buying a luxury sports car just as red for his money. It should strike him with terror. It should make his blood boil. It should make him want to grab your cute little neck and choke the life out of you.

But his surprise and exasperation gradually blended into the strangest feeling of pride.

You participated in his game of cat and mouse; you were the kitten. You were the cat.

You won fair and square even as both of you played more than dirty.

He could respect that.

“Nah. I’ll let her have it for a bit. It’s kinda like having a sugar baby…” Ransom mused, shrugging it off. “When she least expects it, I’m gonna find her and make her show how sorry she is. …or maybe make her my sugar thing for real. I mean… those lips looked really pretty around my dick after all.”

Mics masterlist

Yeah, the stealing the wallet bit and Ransom kinda respecting the reader for it was the “innocent remark” @chase and @murdock came with and my brain went hggggnnnn, because yeah, he would.

Thank you for reading. I'm gonna go bath in holy water, excuse me.

(the convo that inspired this filth... we know he would)

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale fanfiction #LEMONS #lemony lemons #little miss red #anika ann

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hikarry · 15 days

Note

Anthony J. Crowley

But with reading glasses

"Aziraphale, why do you wear reading glasses anyway? Your vision is perfect."

The angel sighs, closing his book and taking off his glasses, glancing up at the demon beside him.

"It's not about my vision. I just like them." The glasses on his hands glint in the light of the desk. "I believe you would say it's a matter of style. Feeling good with what you are wearing."

"Is that why you've been wearing the same clothes since the 40's? Because of style?"

Aziraphale chuckles, putting the glasses back on and getting up from the armchair. How his demon could be thick skulled sometimes.

"I wear these clothes and the glasses for the same reason you wear those probably extremely uncomfortable tight jeans, my dear." Crowley recoils slightly when Aziraphale suddenly lifts his hand, but leans into his touch when said warm hand meets his cheek. "Because you feel like yourself when you wear them. Somewhere in the 6000 years we've been sharing the world with the humans, we started caring about what we cover ourselves with and what little trinkets we wear to compliment said covers like they do." The smile that takes over the angel's face is warm, and yet still bastardly. "We are more like them than you would like to admit." More than both of them would like to admit, to be fair. "Anyway." Aziraphale walks past him, towards the hook on the wall where they keep their jackets. "Do you want to stop by Nina's? I'm really craving those new jelly donuts she received on monday."

Not that it matters to whatever the author is trying to write here, but they did go to Nina's and Aziraphale did have his donut along with tea while Crowley watched him in silence over the rim of his mug filled with 6 shots of the blackest expresso.

It was 2 weeks later, one day when they decided to go back down to Soho to check on Muriel and the girls, that the weirdst...? Maybe weird isn't the right words to describe it. I will let Aziraphale showcase whatever he felt by himself.

He had left Crowley at the bookshop with Muriel to go check on the Record shop where Maggie was moving some records around, rearranging the shop for the tenth time that week, with the lack of anything better to do. Truth be told, nowadays her most usual costumer was Crowley himself, who would stop by from time to time to check on vinyls he apparently needed for his endless collection. She still wasn't sure if he actually needed the records, or if that was his way of being nice.

Regardless, when Aziraphale came back to the bookshop with a Vivaldi secured in both his hands, he quickly spotted Muriel cleaning the dust off one of the shelves in the front, but no sign of Crowley.

"Muriel, my dear, did Crowley step out to Nina's again?"

She stopped what she was doing to offer him her full attention and the smile she wore 24/7 no matter the time of the day.

"No, Mr. Aziraphale. I saw Mr. Crowley walk into the backroom. Apparently he found something interesting in the box of new arrivals."

"Thanks, dear."

Aziraphale offered her a polite smile back before properly entering the bookshop and walking into the backroom, where he quickly found Crowley not sitting on his couch, as it had been the norm since the 1800's, but instead on the armchair Aziraphale used to occupy. Back relaxed leaning against the backrest of the chair, one skinny leg crossed over the other and a book opened in front of his face.

Floriography: An Illustrated Guide to the Victorian Language of Flowers

"Since when do you have an interest in flower language?"

"Since you told me fucking Wilde used to offer you green carnations every other blue moon." Crowley dropped the book, looking up at the angel. "Do you have any idea what green carnations mean in flower language? Hell, it was Oscar himself that created the stupid meaning for the stupid flower."

Uhum. Yeah. No. Aziraphale didn't hear a single word of whatever Crowley had said after he dropped the book, Instead, he dropped the Vivaldi along with his jaw, his heart beating fast for less than holy reasons and his hands tingling to touch, touch, touch...

"The bloody bastard was hitting on you!" Crowley closed the book with a bang. "I'm never sleeping for a century again." He grumbled. "Forget a century. I'm never sleeping for a whole year and leaving you to your own devices."

"My dear-"

"Sure, we were not technically officially together together back then, but, come on, Aziraphale. Wilde?"

"Crowley-"

"All this years all it took was a mediocre flower for you to fall head over heels over someone?" He put the book to the side, laying it on the small table beside the armchair, and got up. "You know who has technically been a gardener for millenia?" He waved at himself. "Me! I've been dealing with plants and flowers at least since around they put Jesus on a stick. If all it took to get your attention was offering you a bouquet every other week, you could have given me some type of hint? Hell! I should have been the one creating this bloody ridiculous flower language! I know more about flowers than Wilde or any other human that has ever stepped on this bloody planet-"

"Crowley!"

The demon stopped ranting and waving his hands dramatically, dropping them to the sides and looking at Aziraphale, who was still exactly in the same place he had been for the last 4 minutes.

"What?"

The angel waved in his general direction.

"What is that on your face?"

Crowley reached out to his own face, as if he had forgotten there was anything at all out of the ordinary in it, his fingertips meeting the temples of the reading glasses.

"Ah." He took the glasses off, turning them around on his hand. "Just decided to give these a try. Thought they would make reading more interesting."

Aziraphale had walked up to him, stepping over the record and standing a few centimeters away from the demon, taking the glasses off his hand. Crowley looked down at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion, and was about to open his mouth to say something when Aziraphale put the glasses back on his face, taking a step back and biting his lower lip.

"...Okay? Angel, what's-?"

"Get the keys for the Bentley. We are going home." That was clearly an order, which Aziraphale expected Crowley to follow without second guessing as he turned around, picked up the record from the floor, and walked towards the exit of the backroom.

"Wow, wow! Wait up!" Gently, Crowley held Aziraphale's free wrist, forcing him to stop walking and turn around to face him. "What the bloody heavens is going through your head? You said you wanted to go through the new arrivals with-"

Without any previous announcement or any type of gentleness, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's silly lil grey tie and pulled it down, so the demon's face was mere centimeters away from his own.

"I'm two second away from pushing you against that shelf and turning you into the biggest mess of our existences, but Muriel is too close and too innocent to witness such behavior." He pulled on the tie again, pulling a very still very focused and breathing very heavily demon ever closer. "So you better get in that car and drive us back home before I show you what I learned in all my years in the discreet gentlemen's club." He finally let go of the tie, allowing Crowley to straight himself up, but the demon didn't move an inch. "And don't you dare take those glasses off until I say you can." He smiled and patted his cheek. "Yes?"

The only noise that left Crowley's throat was some type of high pitched shaky little thing, before he reached out to the back pocket of his jeans and fished for the car keys.

All this to say: that's a vision I pretty much support. We need more reading glasses Crowley in the fandom.

#again apologies to my ace!aziracrow enjoyers but top Aziraphale is a necessity in my life from time to time #watching him dominate Crowley is one of my most enjoyable hobbies and i know myself enough to know that aint changing any time soon #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #good omens #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #aziracrow #asks #anon

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 7 months

Text

Theoretically ~ P.P.

A/n: And another request!!

Request: “Male reader x Andrew Pete, After a long day of thinking about it and wondering if he and Peter were ready, reader proposes?” By anon

Word Count: 1800+

MASTERLIST

It had started slowly, but Y/n had realized after it had been going on for a while so it had felt sudden and startling.

First there had been the exact moment kisses between them had become casual. They weren't startling and didn't make him jump, heart racing. Peter would be on his way out the door and would say goodbye, leaving a kiss on Y/n's mouth very quickly before dipping. And that felt right. He'd sink into the feeling, his chest warm, but it wasn't buzzing and burning like it used to be.

Then it was the increased PDA. Peter had always been repressed and reserved, hating attention and confrontation unless he had his mask on. But they'd gotten slowly into the habit of having little to no personal space, and being generally touchy. One day, Peter didn't take Y/n's hand just "to show him something" and then drop it when someone looked over. Another day Y/n stared lovingly as long as he wanted and Peter never made a joke about it. After that, Peter lay his head on Y/n's shoulder on the subway and sighed, relaxed. When they kissed, grinning, on the side walk waiting for the light to change for them Y/n knew it was okay to do that more often.

Those were followed by the casual way Peter referred to Y/n as his boyfriend. Even spoke about "his boyfriend." Before he'd said "partner," brushing it away that he was dating someone of the same gender. He wouldn't use Y/n's name even when people knew who he was talking about. And then one day he introduced Y/n as his boyfriend - something he'd heard later from MJ.

The day it clicked was when Peter got caught up in an especially rough back and forth with Doc Oc, who had kidnapped Y/n in an attempt to hurt Peter. It wasn't the first time it had happened, and the panic afterward had been tangible, but Peter didn't implode like he so often had. He was focused on Y/n, tending to him and reassuring him he was safe. And he didn't blame himself or hate on himself or push Y/n away. It was... startling, honestly, when Peter wrapped around him instead and whispered a simple, "I'm sorry this Spider-Man stuff caught up to you."

Y/n ran his hands through his boyfriend's hair, and realized that he was home to Peter, the same way Peter was home to him. That they couldn't have denied each other even if they wanted to. Even if they'd have tried. They both knew it.

And he smiled, realizing that maybe they hadn't said it yet, but this probably meant they were in love after all. And they'd been in love for a while, so much more than a young romance. They'd be together for a very long time.

"I knew what I was getting into, Peter," he reassured softly. "I know we'll always figure it out. Together." He sighed. "Plus, now you know how I feel every day."

Peter nodded. "That's fair." And that was it. No argument, no anger, no spiral.

The confession of love had followed soon after.

When Y/n got a succulent and Peter started calling it Jimmy, and referring to them as Jimmy's dad, something settled deeply into Y/n's chest. He wanted to do this forever. He wanted to be with Peter for the rest of his life.

That was a terrifying thought.

Peter had been getting better. A little more grounded, and much more experienced. Every day he was softer with himself. Every day he opened up more, and let Y/n help when he could. Every day he smiled more, laughed more. Every day he showed Y/n off more, being proud they were together and being loud about it too. They moved in together, and after that everything was theirs - not individually Peter's or Y/n's. Like they never had to worry about moving out or going separate ways or breaking up. Like this space was theirs and it always would be, even it it was a different space.

It was the teasing look in May's eyes as she grinned at Y/n over the cup of tea she was drinking that was the last straw. She put her cup down and in a gentle voice, began, "You want to ask me something?"

Y/n blushed. "You saw through me then."

May raised an eyebrow, her smile teasing. "In the years you've been with Peter, your worst fear as been time and again proved to be imposing on me. You only ever come by when I invite you, with Peter, or explicitly to help with something. I've never seen you ask to come over completely unprompted with nothing else in mind but spending time together." She leans back in her chair. "Not that I'm complaining."

Rubbing the back of his neck, he got sheepish. "I'm sorry May. I don't mean to be around so little."

She waves her hand back and forth, and if to scatter the words in the air. "Don't he silly. I don't take it personally. You should come over more often though." She took another sip of her drink. "But that's not what you're here to talk about."

Y/n swallows hard, interlacing his fingers so he can hold onto something as he begins. "You know Peter so well," he began. May nodded; Y/n had come to her asking advice several times now. "I was thinking... maybe..." He cleared his throat, nervous. Once he said this to May it was in stone. Was he ready? Was Peter? "Do you think Peter is the marriage type?"

May froze, eyes wide. Y/n went solid and still as stone, only breathing again when May's shock flipped to glee. "You're thinking of proposing."

Okay. This was a good sign. "I was thinking about it," Y/n said slowly. "But I don't know if Peter would... want to. Or if it's too soon. Or if there's too much going on already with the whole Spider-Man thing." He shrugged, running his hand through his hair.

May nodded again, mulling Y/n's concern over. Every day Y/n thanked god she actually considered things rather than just jumping to "I want to see my boy married" like some aunts had before. It was a relief to know he could trust what she would say next.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

And sometimes Y/n wished she wasn't quite so good at what she did.

"Well-"

May cocked an eyebrow, her expression turning into something akin to 'you know what I'm going to say.' And it was true. Y/n did. He let her say it anyway. "I can't speak for my nephew, Y/n."

"I know," he sighed. "But I don't want to go in blind or jump the gun or scare him away-"

May chuckled. "That boy has seen more than I could even imagine." She paused for a second. "Normal things do scare him more than any villain in a suit could. But he's better about it than he used to be. And if you eased him into it, or took your shot, and we're ready for some possible rejection and not take it personally, it could be fine."

And there it was. The real reason Y/n was stressed. Because sure, Peter might not be ready, but if he wasn't and he ran and Y/n was crushed it could lead to the end of their relationship. They could both react very poorly...

This would mean Y/n would have to do it somewhere privately. It would have to be very low pressure, open minded. Understanding. Gentle. And it was a little heartbreaking that was the case. Y/n wanted to be a little loud, a little dramatic. And he would have to let that go.

May reached over, taking Y/n's hand. "It also doesn't have to be now. It should be when you're ready. The moment will come, and you'll know. You should only do it then." Her gaze was so soft and patient that Y/n could only absorb what she was saying directly into his soul. "Don't try to make a perfect moment. Let one come."

That advice stayed with Y/n until the moment came. He thought it had a few times but then it wouldn't quite pan out, or something would interrupt them or they'd need to stopper what they were doing and table it for later - when they moment was gone. But one day they were laying in bed, out of breath and grinning after Peter had stolen Y/n’s favorite jacket and Y/n had tried to take it back by force. Peter was much stronger than Y/n of course, and had plenty abilities to overwhelm him, but decided to play fair and shenanigans had turned into raucous laughter that had stolen both of their breath away.

Y/n looked at Peter and something warm and sweet touch him. May’s words came back to him full force in that moment and he was stunned to realize-

This was the moment.

“Will you marry me?” Peter turned, eyes wide, and immediately Y/n panicked. “Maybe not know. We don’t have to say now. But maybe one day.” His voice got dry when suddenly Peter took him by the face, kissing him.

The kiss was king and deep and passionate. Y/n felt something wet ion his cheek and realized Peter was crying.

When it ended, Peter pressed their foreheads together. “You’ve been so patient with me. I know you have. I know I’m not… easy. But I’m yours, and that was always enough for you.” He chuckled, seeming near giddy. Y/n felt his throat close with how much hope swelled in his chest. “I would love to maybe you. We can figure exactly when and how. Is that okay? If we don’t know exactly when?”

Y/n melted, raising a hand to run over Peter’s jaw. “I would marry you anywhere, any day, in any way that we could muster. Even if no one was there. Even if no one knew.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “You cheese ball.”

“Your cheese ball.” Y/n beamed. “For the rest of our lives?” It was timid, hopeful.

Peter sighed. “For the rest of our lives.”

Neither would ask more than that.

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

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amongemeraldclouds · 1 month

Text

Mattheo’s Gamble

Anguished by your tragic passing in the Second Wizarding War, Mattheo makes a bet with the Grim Reaper to get you back (features different AUs)

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Official entry for @thatdammchickennugget's Hogmarch challenge, prompt 3.

Author's note: Steering off the prompt a bit as I have no idea how to write sports so here's another 'game' I thought of. I usually prefer writing full fics but this idea is so complex, enjoy this bite sized version instead.

✿ Masterlist | 677 words

♡ They had no right to take you away from him, Mattheo seethes as he strides into the Grim Reaper's lair.

♡ He had sacrificed way too much in the war only to lose what's most important to him in the end.

♡ Mattheo pleads his case, the Grim Reaper has to revive you. You are meant to be together in every single lifetime, losing you in this one is a mistake. It was never meant to happen.

♡ Mattheo doesn't actually know if it's true, but he is desperate.

♡ The Grim Reaper agrees to his request, if he wins a wager. He and Mattheo will visit three different lifetimes to test his theory. If proven correct that you always end up together across different lives, Grim Reaper is ready to correct the mistake and revive you fully, as if you never left at all.

♡ But if Mattheo is wrong, he would have to spend a hundred years in damnation. Mattheo believes he has nothing left to lose so he agrees to the wager with no hesitation.

Ancient Egypt AU

⛺︎ In the first lifetime Mattheo and the Grim Reaper visit, you are the pharaoh's daughter, beloved by all people.

⛺︎ Mattheo is the high court magician, highly favored by your father.

⛺︎ You and Mattheo grew up together and eventually become lovers. Your father would not approve if he found out so you keep it a secret.

⛺︎ Meanwhile, your father is arranging a strategic marriage for you.

1800s AU

☾ You and Mattheo meet while taking an extended vacation with your family. He’s staying in the same hotel as you and you become fast friends.

☾ It doesn't take long for the two of you to fall in love and promise to write each other letters to stay in touch.

☾ After your departure, you send him a letter but never hear from him again, thinking he has moved on.

☾ Forty years later, a mailman takes his last shift before retirement. While clearing an old pile of mail, he finds your letter wedged in between cabinets. Mattheo never received your letter.

☾ The mailman takes it upon himself to track down Mattheo to deliver your letter, his first adventure after retiring.

Mafia AU

⭐︎ The final life Mattheo and the Grim Reaper visit. You and Mattheo come from two warring gangs. He's one of the leaders of his gang, whereas your father is the leader in their rival gang.

⭐︎ To keep you safe, your father hid his world away from you and the mafia doesn’t know much about your existence either.

⭐︎ One day, your father disappears. To investigate his whereabouts, you go undercover in the rival gang to gather intel. They assign you to the subgroup that Mattheo leads.

Between the Grim Reaper and Mattheo

♡ The Grim Reaper reveals he chose the hardest timelines for you and Mattheo to end up together. During their journey across the different AUs, the Grim Reaper throws in more obstacles on your path.

♡ "Filthy cheater," Mattheo accuses the Grim Reaper.

♡ "Did you think I was going to go easy on you?" he replies with a cold smile. "I thought you were so sure about this little connection of yours.”

♡ Mattheo grits his teeth but says nothing further.

♡ In the end, you make your relationship work and end up together every single lifetime, against all odds. Thus proving that love is its own kind of magic. And oh, it is one of the most powerful.

♡ The Grim Reaper is amused by the whole wager and holds up his end of the bargain by reuniting you back with Mattheo.

♡ "How?" you ask, looking into Mattheo's eyes once you get a moment to catch your breath from all the happy tears and the vice grip of his embrace.

♡ "Would you believe me if I told you it was the power of love?" he asks.

♡ You laugh, "who are you and what have you done with my Mattheo?"

♡ "I'm right here love and you're here," he says, pulling you back into another hug, savoring the moment. Just as it was always meant to be, he thinks.

Cue Taylor Swift's Timeless: 'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this so, even in a different life, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: Changed the name to the Grim Reaper bc tumblr shadowbanned the original name starting with D.

Inspired by: The (Unalived) Hallows, Cloud Atlas, Doctor Who, Letters to Juliet, reading the Akashic Records.

#I'm such a hopeless romantic #hogmarch challenge #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x you #Mattheo Riddle #modern au #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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zushimart · 1 year

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fireworks. scara x gn!reader. modern au. a bit of angst (jealous!scara), but implied /pos ending. umm drinking (sort of drunk confession), vomiting, jealousy.

scara graced the party with his presence only at the aggressive encouragement (or what could have been called peer pressure) of childe – “a drink or two and maybe you’ll be able to tell them.”

“they don’t have to know,” scara had spat back, inadvertently admitting his feelings… something he’d skirted around telling childe even through a half-hour interrogation after he’d fallen flat and lifeless at the sight of you holding hands with a stranger.

while childe joked about what you and strange men could be doing behind closed doors, scara was trying to explain to him that he wasn’t heartbroken over 1800s-like chastity, but rather that you were on a date.

prompting childe to ask, “you’re into them?”

and he’d gone red, tongue tripping over itself in its silly excuses such as “it’s just concern” or “what if the guy’s a freak or a murderer or something?” and finally shutting up at the sight of childe’s upturned eyebrow.

but because his friend couldn’t help to make everyone’s business his own, scaramouche found himself at a house party on a saturday night on the promise that you were a) attending and b) still single (not that the latter had anything to do with his enthusiasm).

“just one,” he mumbles to childe over a plastic cup emptied a second later out of nervousness – his face twisting in disgust.

“have another,” childe shouts, having not heard him over the music, swapping their cups. scaramouche rolls his eyes, but tentatively takes another gulp, stomach warm.

and then he catches sight of you in the corner of the room, talking to a few familiar faces, but they’re all enemies to him in his childishness. he drinks the rest of his cup and asks for a refill. childe grins, thinking little of it, but four beers and two vodka shots in, he’s pulling the cup out of scara’s hands.

“hey, slow down –

scaramouche’s tongue feels too big for his mouth, “two or whatever drinks and i’ll be able to…” but he still can’t admit it in front of childe, “y’know,” he mumbles, shy. childe’s eyebrows come together in concern at the sight of him wistfully staring into the corner of the room where you stand and laugh with a few others; he wonders if he should stop him as he makes his way through the crowd towards you. childe nervously trails behind his friend like a chaperone.

“scara!” you greet him in surprise, “i didn’t know you were here.”

he bites his lip, skipping a hello and blurting out a “you look really… good… tonight.” he’s red in the face, hands clasped together in front of him.

you let the compliment roll off you in disbelief, offering a dismissive “woah, you’re drunk…” that morphs his face into one of deadpan disappointment.

“yeah,” childe laughs nervously, putting a hand on scara’s shoulder. “he’s a lightweight.”

“i thought he didn’t like to drink,” you say. childe shrugs and you recover for him, “here, scara, childe, these are some of my friends.”

scara can hear you talking, but the words have gone fuzzy in favor of staring into your eyes. he misses every mindless introduction, and ends up talking to you and only you about his week before finally someone interjects. it’s a respite, you think, before an unfiltered grimace of disgust scrunches scara’s nose – he talks over them, and an awkward silence despite the music descends upon them as he, with a voice insecure and vulnerable, admits, “you’ve been avoiding me recently,” he says. “but that can’t be true,” he laughs, “right?”

childe grows fidgety, staring at his friend with a gaze that could burn holes through his head. “woah,” childe blurts, stepping in front of scara who grumbles in protest, “he doesn’t know what he’s talking about… you know… too much to drink…” he trails off, but your smile and cheer had left minutes ago. childe watches with a wince as you drag scaramouche away, fingers digging into his shoulder, to a semi-secluded space at the bottom of the stairs.

“what is wrong with you?” you ask, but you’re not looking at him –– your gaze is reserved for your friends throwing concerned looks in your direction. he doesn’t answer, eyebrows drawing together at your disinterest in the conversation despite being the one to initiate.

he steps in front of your line of sight, “nothing,” he lies. “just being myself. s’too much, isn’t it? just say that.”

“no. something’s up. something different. i’m not avoiding you,” you say, “do you actually feel that way?”

anger grows big in his chest. he wishes he could keep the words behind his teeth, but they spill out of his mouth, “you do avoid me,” he says a little louder than he means to, “you don’t tell me anything anymore. you’re going on dates with people i don’t know… doing things without me… other stuff…” he prattles off. yeah, that’s totally why i’m upset, he thinks to himself, lower lip quivering.

you’re blinking at him like he’s lost his mind. “what?”

“what?” he parrots back, embarrassed as tears begin to sting his eyes.

“i know this isn’t why you’re upset with me… like, why would i even have to tell you about my love life?” you sigh. “i was gonna tell you about the one date i’ve been on the next time we were together… it didn’t even go well, anyway,” you say, looking to floor, eyes tinged with a look of longing so familiar he feels the contents of his stomach swirl. “scara, what’s this really about?” you ask.

he wants you to look at him like that. like you want him. like you want him so bad it hurts. bile rises in his throat knowing that you’re thinking of someone else.

the sound of his heartbeat fills his ears and the stress of the night comes down on him like a falling piano. “my stomach,” he blurts, “sorry.” the next moment, he’s stumbling up the stairs as the world spins, leaving you to chase after him.

he leaves the bathroom door open as he vomits into the open toilet, gripping the seat like it’s his own. front row ticket, he thinks through the brain fog at the sight of your shoes in his peripheral.

“you drank too much,” you say, and it makes him mad.

“you think so?” he spits, only to hurl again. then, you’re on your knees beside him, rubbing soothing circles into his back. it’s then that he notices you closed the door behind you, trapping him in your own personal pocket universe – music muffled by thin walls, bass just barely shaking the floor. he pushes your reaching hand away from him and wipes his mouth with a sleeve, wondering, can i think straight?

“did childe do this? did he pressure you?”

he can’t think straight. fat tears finally well in his eyes and he cries in front of you for the first time. “it’s your fault,” he babbles like a kid.

“my fault?” you ask with a laugh, realizing a second too late as you lean over to flush the toilet that–– he’s serious.

“why can’t you look at me,” he hiccups, “only me. no one else.”

and a silence burdens the both of you, the room suddenly too small, too stuffy, too hot to think. you open your mouth to speak… once, twice, and finally, a third time: “dude, are you… jealous?” and if looks could kill, it would’ve been scaramouche, in the bathroom, with his eyes. his glare is piercing.

“i’m not jealous,” he blurts, “i don’t get jealous,” but the tears blurring his vision a second time tell a different story. he whimpers, “how could i be jealous?”

it takes a conscious effort to keep your jaw from dropping.

“what am i doing wrong?” he asks, looking up from behind his hands.

“do you… like me?” you ask under your breath as you stand up, butterflies swelling up your throat.

he’s queasy again at the sight of your retreat. “i’m sorry.” he bites his lip hard, eyes training on the grout that lines the grimey tiles.

“messy,” you mutter, grabbing him by the collar and forcing him up with you, “you’re so messy for telling me like this.”

“i didn’t tell you anything,” he snaps, voice shaking. he breaks from your grip and pushes past you to the sink, running cold water to splash on his face. drinking from the faucet like a dog, water drips onto his shirt. he wipes his mouth, takes a deep breath, and looks at himself in the mirror. “i want to go home.”

“ask me nicely and maybe i’ll take you.”

he turns his glare to you. “i’ll walk myself, then” he says.

“you’re so difficult,” you say, walking out of the bathroom first. he trails after you like a kitten, steps uncertain and arms drawn close to his body like he’s cold. you mouth ‘going home’ from across the room to childe who nods, watching as you pull out your keys and depart out the front door without saying goodbye to your friends.

he’s quiet in the front seat, putting on his seatbelt only when he’s told to. he’s quiet the entire ride home, refusing to respond to your teasing and quips. he’s quiet on the way up to his apartment, steps echoing in the stairwell. he pushes away your steadying hand on his waist and tries to close the door on you the moment he gets it open.

“i’m fine,” he mumbles, “i’m not a fucking baby.”

“you cry like one.” he looks at you with that same glare, and it’s almost comical the way his bottom lip begins to tremble. “call me tomorrow,” you say. “tell me if you were serious.”

he falls quiet again, holding the door and averting his eyes.

“okay?”

a second, two seconds, three seconds before he meets your gaze and mumbles, “okay,” before gently closing the door. he leaves you in the quiet, washed in the fluorescent light of the hallway, thinking of the sizzle of his explosivity and the following trail of smoke like the lingering smell of fireworks after a dazzling show.

#tw emeto #ok well tbh this is cringe #but i wanted to post bc its been in my drafts FOREEEEEVER #hope u like~#scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #i hate this guy #kunikuzushi x reader

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