#I was like. hm. I am picturing them in my brain and yet it all feels very familiar. like I am practiced at this somehow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lustlovehart · 1 month

Note

since reqs are still open i have a thought,,,,

scara/wanderer falling in love with reader all over again after he forgets them and everything else after the attempt of becoming god feel free to ignore those

A/n: For the sake of this request, he forgets who he is for months instead of just a day.

Summary: He’s had no name for so long, maybe his salvation is the voice that has remained in his head. Though, it seems that voice has turned to reality.

Warnings: Told from his perspective, Wanderer without his memories, but bonus is when he does get them back, Spoilers for Sumeru, Scara wants to kill Dottore, Jealousy, Kinda corny

Puppets are meant to have strings, and yet he is forced to lift his limbs on his own. Puppets have puppeteers make them do what they must yet he has to think for himself.

It makes sense, yet why is he left to walk without a purpose.

It feels like he's forgotten something from his past, yet there is no past for him to remember.

"Kuni... Have you... that isn't my... Huh...? You're just embarrassed I... pictures... Didn't hide... Okay... Think it's sweet... from you...!"

It's like his brain only had memories of some broken past he could no longer recall. Yet, he still finds some worth in the broken words that echo in his head.

"Uhm sir...? Can you please hand me that sunsettia? I have the Mora for it."

His trance is quickly dissipated as the voice in front of him is sounded. It feels familiar yet he doesn't have it saved in his brain.

"Huh...? Oh sure."

With no sure background on himself, nor any real idea of how he came to be, he's stuck working many jobs. His finger tips quickly brush against the hand in front of him, it felt like static rushed up to his chest, though he lacked a heart it felt as if there was one there.

"Thank you, I'll be taking my leave, so, have a good day." Familar...

"Sunsettias and Bulle fruit are kinda different huh? In fontaine, there's this certain candy made out of it, have you ever had it Kuni? No? I'll bring you some when I go back! You wanna come too...? Wha?! Don't act like you didn't say that! Hey don't walk away from me!"

Before he could reach out and ask for your name, you had already walked away from him. It didn't feel like the first time it had happened either.

A week later, all he could remember was that single interaction. His fingers still tingling whenever he remembered you.

It's as if he had some third sense for you, the moment you step into the bazaar his eyes quickly looked toward the direction you had cam in from.

"What is your name" his hands cling onto your wrist, even though you weren't planning to leave any time soon, almost like he felt as if he let go you would disappear once more.

"Wha...?" You're still not too caught up in what it is exactly he's asking so your don't answer, only quirking your eyebrow at him.

"Name?"

"Mine? It's [Name]...?" He quietly whispers it under his breath, like a mantra, a prayer. When he says your name again it's like it melts off his tongue.

Like you belong there on his lips.

"Am I in trouble? I promise i didn't steal anything from the stand sir!"

"What? No no, It's not that." He pauses before he speaks, a little hesitant while he thinks of his wording to dish out, how does he ask without coming off as weird? "I think... You're... You seem familiar."

"Hm? Well I do get supplies here often so maybe that's it-"

"Can we have dinner later?"

"Wait wha? Well, I mean we can, but I only know you as the vendor here, so that's kinda sudden is it not...?" He takes what you say into consideration, but only shrugs his shoulders.

"It probably is but, I wanna talk to you more." He couldn't let the opportunity slip between his fake fingers, for such a long time since he had awoken, it's like your voice had been in his head for such a long time.

No, not like... Your voice has been with him.

------

Months had passed by in such a hurry, yet he still had no title to go by. He didn't have anything attached to his person, so he told you the name he remembers feint whispers of.

"Kuni...?"

He can tell in your expression the name is familiar on your tongue, but does not hold any memories in your head. He doesn’t mind though, it's nice to hear you adress him, even if if the name you speak isnt one he remembers.

It doesn't take long before occasionally meets up turned into daily hang outs. There wouldn't be a second where you two weren't attached by the hips.

The two of you sit on the highest branch of the tree located at port ormos, your head rested on his shoulders while the wind calmly brushes by the two of you.

"Kuni." He doesn’t give you an answer but you can feel his eyes bore into you.

"I have to leave next week. Something urgent came up and… My job needs me to leave sumeru for some time, i’m not sure how long though." His expression doesn’t give too much away, but when you lift your head to look at him, the slight squint in his eyes is all you need to know he’s upset by it. “Don’t give me that look, it probably isn’t gonna be for more than a month anyway so i’ll be back soon.” He turns his head away from you, presumably to hide whatever look he has splayed on his face.

“Don’t be like that, besides, it’s my birthday soon. It’ll give you time to prepare for when I get back.” He still doesn’t answer you. A sigh leaves your throat before your hand reaches up to his face, pulling it closer to your lips as a quick peck is placed on his cheek. It’s enough to stun him a bit, watching his brain short circuit in real time while a smile cracks on your mouth.

“What would you want anyway? You’re not too open about your wants.” It’s nice to know he cares. Though you don't give him a straight answer, once again deciding to mess with him.

"Who knows, maybe I want you-" it doesn't take long before a palm pushes your face mid sentence. "Wha?! I was gonna ask for food."

With the way his face is turned, you'll never notice the way his face is warmed. He's sure if he had one, his chest would be beating sporadically.

He hopes the two of you can last.

------

Bonus:

It had been awhile since he had last seen you, 2 weeks maybe? At the time, when you had told him on your little date, he didn’t think much of it, he had only the memories of the clothes on his back to stick to, so he really believed it was for a simple job.

But with his memories back, he knows what your "job" truly is. Formerly, you were his assistant back in his harbinger days, but now that he is no longer the ballader, he can only seethe in silence at the thought of you being a differnt harbingers aid.

He might even go insane if he finds out you're to be working under The Doctor.

God Forbid, he finds out that man has been messing with you, he'll gladly become a god once more if that means he can protect you, or better yet, destroy him.

Instead of his hiding spot being a place to relax, he's now left with the thought of Dottore in his mind, it makes his hands curls into balls, grassblades ripping apart at how tight he's clutching his fists, he's sure if he was human there would no doubt be blood pouring out-

A sudden weight had jumped on him from behind, arms quickly tightening around him, a familar head coming into view.

"I finally found you." His eyes are right in front of your own, like your eyes are locked onto his and he can't look away from you. "I was worried, about you, ever since I had come back yesterday, you weren't at the usual spot."

Of course he wouldn't be. He had finally remembered his past sins, he no longer felt worthy enough to lay by your side.

But he still had some sense to at least protect you from the shadows.

"I just felt like changing the scenery is all."

"Hm? You've never wanted to do that before. Did something happen?"

His fingers... His fake fingers, tightly grip onto your very real arm.

"Maybe I've grown a hatred for doctors, is that not reasonable?"

"Huh...?? It's certainly random to change a spot for that reason that's for sure."

"If a certain doctor had any copies of himself, I would've loved to rip him to pieces."

"Okay future serial killer..."

He doesn't answer, maybe... Maybe it's best you don't remember his past atrocities with him.

"Perhaps you're one too [Name], who knows, maybe you're just as bad as me."

Your head leans forward, resting your chin on his shoulder while he talks.

"If that's the case, we really are meant to be huh?"

He let's a laugh escape his throat, not the usual one he lets out, filled with joy, it's filled with something more sinister, menacing? Yet it's still filled with some love for you.

"Yeah, that might be why we're together again."

"Again? Did you date a doppelganger?"

"Just sit down."

" Oh wow, that's some new attitude."

---

Wanderer before he got his memories back would probably be really awkward so I tried to incorpate that. (I wrote this really sporadically, so there's probably a lot of mistakes and really rushed I'm so sorry 😔)

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scara #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #vesperwrites #askves #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fluff

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makerofmadness · 9 months

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NEW AND IMPROVED: incorrect FNAF quotes

Uh just forget all the previous posts I can't remember half the quotes I made and also some of them are outdated lore-wise or headcanon-wise so time for a grand reopening of the series(?). May have done some of these quotes exactly the same in the past but heck if I know-

Contains: Headcanons, spoilers for Ruin, hopefully no big mistakes/words I forgot to replace

Speaking of headcanons: I hc that the "classic fnaf" era night guards are all the fnaf 4 bullies. So Michael, Fritz, Jeremy, and the last one is entirely an OC (whom I had described in my old quotes posts but I've renamed her now 'Cus I accidentally gave her the same name as a BATIM character whoops-): Susanna "Susie" Hudson. She's the FNAF 3 guard.

as was before, I get these quotes from the perchance generator and just insert the characters in manually.

quotes under the cut:

Gregory (seeing that one unexplained room): Is… Is that meant to be on fire? Roxanne Wolf: No… not really. Gregory: Are you going to do something about it? Roxanne Wolf: Hm… nah.

Michael Afton: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. Michael Afton: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.

Mangle: You know the sound a fork makes in the garbage disposal? That's the sound that my brain makes all the time.

Susanna Hudson: I’m genuinely surprised you haven’t gotten arrested, let alone gotten a felony yet. Fritz Smith: Nat 20 Charisma. Susanna Hudson: That is NOT how that works-

Golden Freddy: If karma doesn't hit you, I fucking will. -

Mangle: I don’t care what anyone thinks about me. Withered Foxy: Ok. Mangle: Wait, why such a muted reaction? Did that not sound cool?

Mangle: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees? Jeremy Fitzgerald: Bees? Mangle: HE HAS SELECTED THE BEES! Jeremy Fitzgerald: Wait- *Toy Chica approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly* ('Twas but an allegory for the Bite of 87-)

Fritz Smith: I wasn’t that drunk. Jeremy Fitzgerald: You colored my face with a highlighter because you said I was important. Fritz Smith: BECAUSE YOU ARE! -

The Puppet: Bonnie, are you drinking… drinking hydrogen peroxide?! Toy Bonnie: It says H2O2! That means it’s the sequel to water! -

Michael Afton: I'm not a morning person. I'm barely even a person.

Circus Baby: Pardon me, but it sounds like you’re questioning my authority! Funtime Foxy: Not at all, Baby. Merely your primitive methods.

Crying Child (FNAF 4), after having a nosebleed: Welp. Time to wash the blood off my hands.

Gregory: Can we go to a haunted house? Vanessa: What’s wrong with the one we live in? Gregory: Wh-what? Vanessa: Goodnight, Gregory.

Toy Bonnie: Here is my wall of inspirational people. Withered Bonnie: Is that a picture of you? Toy Bonnie: Yes, I am big enough to admit that I am often inspired by myself.

The Mimic: I have one of your friends. Glamrock Freddy: Which one? I have seven. The Mimic: The loud, annoying, rowdy one who never shuts up. Glamrock Freddy: Which one? I have seven. Roxanne Wolf, distantly: HEY!!!

Michael Afton: What’s the status up here? Fritz Smith: Fucked up, about to die, Jeremy's a nerd. The usual.

Roxanne Wolf: You're pathetic! Gregory: You're pathetic-er! Vanny: You're both losers.

*Comments under an image of a really hot knife cutting bread* Molten Freddy: Imagine stabbing someone with this knife. Helpy: It would instantly cauterize the wound, so the person wouldn't bleed, so it's not very useful. Rockstar Chica: if you want information it is Music Man: why would you STAB a person when you can have TOAST?

Ennard: I’ve never been in a snowball fight before. I don’t know the rules. Michael Afton: What? Ennard: Is there a point system, or is it to the death?

*Michael Afton rushes by with an armful of water bottles* Funtime Chica: What's going on? Rockstar Foxy: Mike wouldn't drink water. Funtime Chica: …And? Rockstar Foxy: And I asked him how fast he could chug an entire bottle. Michael Afton, loudly: 16 OUNCES IN TEN SECONDS, BITCHES!

Roxanne Wolf: Sometimes I talk to myself for no reason. Roxanne Wolf: Me too!

Montgomery Gator: Do you think different paints have different tastes? Glamrock Chica: They do. Glamrock Freddy: …Why did you say that with such certainty?

William Afton: You might not know this, Henry, but I am a flawed person. Henry Emily: I do know that.

William Afton: I could kill you if I wanted. Michael Afton: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special.

Dee Dee: If I can't cause tiny bits of chaos every day, I think my body will shut down.

Funtime Freddy: I have one brain cell and it bounces around in my skull like a windows screen saver. Funtime Freddy: When it hits a corner perfect, I’m allowed one good idea.

Cassie: You're ignoring all your problems. Eclipse: I know. Cassie: You also know it's an unhealthy coping mechanism? Eclipse: I'm ignoring that fact as well. Cassie:

Withered Foxy: What do people in relationships even do? Toy Freddy: Care about someone with your whole heart and dedicate your life to making them happy. Withered Foxy: Okay. Didn't ask. Toy Chica: Asks question Toy Chica: "Didn't ask" Withered Foxy: Thanks for the play by play, Captain Fuck.

Withered Foxy: BB? What are you doing here? Balloon Boy, standing in the office: My best.

The Squad: *walking around the Pizzaplex* Moon: Hey, have any of you guys seen Chica? She's been gone for a while.. Vanessa: Eh, nope. Montgomery Gator: No, I haven’t… Roxanne Wolf: Probably ran off to get pizza or something. Glamrock Chica: Hey. Moon: Ooh, there you are- Vanessa: What the fu- Roxanne Wolf: I- where were you?! Glamrock Chica: Walking right behind you guys.

Funtime Freddy: Bon-Bon! Eggs Benedict got that thing on the control panel working! Bon-Bon: Wow! That looks pretty impressive. Funtime Freddy: Yeah! Bon-Bon: Any idea what it does? Funtime Freddy: Not a clue.

Gregory: I just learned a way to get stuff on the cheap. Steal it!

Cassie: You have to apologize to Roxy! Gregory: Fine! Gregory: Unfuck you, or whatever!

Michael Afton: Rockstar Bonnie just said "I have an appetite for destruction" and then he reached down and untied my shoe.

Gregory: School sucks. Vanessa: I know, but you have to do it so you can get a job. Gregory: What are jobs like? Vanessa: They suck.

The Mimic: I am literally evil incarnate. The Mimic: I’m not actually, I just enjoy being evil. The Mimic: Which I think actually makes it even more evil because I’m making a conscious effort.

William Afton: Something’s off. Henry Emily: Maybe you’ve finally developed human emotions and feel bad for hurting people. William Afton: No, but that’s funny.

Montgomery Gator: Do you ever think? Because I do not.

Gregory: What language do they speak at the center of the earth? Gregory: Core-ean Glamrock Freddy: The center of the earth is arond 5430 degrees Celsius! Nobody is going to live there so they don’t need a language! Vanessa: Core-ean.

Toy Bonnie: I don’t know the first thing about clothes. Pretty much all I can do is look at something and tell you if it’s clothes or not. This chair? Not clothes.

Roxanne Wolf: How would you like your hair cut? Montgomery Gator: Preferably with scissors, but a sword could be badass.

Withered Chica, looking at her reflection: Now, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be? Toy Chica: Well, that's you. Withered Chica: Me?! Is that what I look like? Toy Chica You don't know? Withered Chica: Busy day.

Withered Bonnie, to Toy Bonnie: All right, let’s tell each other a secret about ourselves. I’m going to go first– I hate you.

Jeremy Fitzgerald: We need to distract these guys. Fritz Smith: Leave it to me. Fritz Smith: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Toy Freddy & Toy Bonnie: *immediately begin arguing*

Susanna Hudson: Coca Cola can remove rust from metal, imagine what it’s doing to your body. Fritz Smith: Pfff, getting rid of the rust, idiot. Susanna Hudson: THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS! Michael Afton: Hmm… I've been drinking soda and my body's rust free… not sure where you're getting your facts from…

Circus Baby: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out. Ballora: Fucking Freddy and Foxy were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

Circus Baby: All in all, a 100 successful trip. Funtime Freddy: But we lost Bon-Bon. Circus Baby: All in all, a 100 successful trip!

(FNAF humans be like:)

Susanna Hudson: *fills up bottle and drinks from that* Vanessa: *brought 4 bottles of water so this wouldn’t happen* Cassie: *drinks straight from the tap* Crying Child: *dehydrates* Gregory: *drinks from the puddle of water on the floor* Michael Afton: *licks the tap, doesn’t even need a drink*

Cassie: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait. Gregory: You and me! Cassie: *tearing up* Ok.

(we can pretend the ending never happened just a bit-)

Chica: Why's it called an oven when you of in the cold food and you of out hot eat the food? Freddy: …What???

Gregory, holding a scooter: Vanessa! Can I go outside and play with this? Vanessa Sure, whatever. I'm not your parent, okay? Gregory, running outside: Thanks Vanessa! Vanessa, running out after him and screaming: NOT ON THE STREET! STAY AWAY!

Jeremy Fitzgerald: Look, last night was a mistake. Fritz Smith: A sexy mistake. Jeremy Fitzgerald: No, just a regular mistake.

Mangle: Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit, and wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad. Toy Freddy: That's deep. Toy Bonnie: That means that ketchup is a smoothie. Toy Freddy: That's deeper. The Puppet: …You guys are idiots.

RWQFSFASXC: I am free of all prejudice. I hate everyone equally.

Withered Chica: You know, when I first met you I thought you were a real bitch. Toy Chica: What changed your mind? Withered Chica: Oh, I still think you're a bitch. I've just grown to like that about you.

Freddy: Don't break someone's heart, they only have one. Golden Freddy: Break one of their bones instead, they have 206 of them.

*1987's game of Among Us in real life* Jeremy Fitzgerald: I believe Fritz is innocent, I was with them the whole time. Mr. Afton, what were you doing? William Afton: Oh, I was just murdering… I mean, nothing!

Toy Bonnie: Is the pink panther a lion? Withered Bonnie: Say that again but slower. Toy Bonnie: I don’t get it. Withered Bonnie: He’s a PANTHER. Toy Bonnie: Is that a type of lion? Withered Bonnie: No, it’s a fucking panther. Toy Bonnie: *googles panther* They aren't pink? Withered Bonnie: AND LIONS ARE?!

Henry Emily: Do you have any skeletons in your closet? William Afton: Literally or figuratively? Henry Emily: I have to specify?

Bonnie: Yesterday, I watched Foxy try to eat a decorative rock from the night guard's potted plant. The Puppet caught him, and told him that he can't eat rocks. Chica started whining something about no food being in the house before walking away.

Susanna Hudson: I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter “s”. Michael Afton: *looks over at Fritz Smith and Jeremy Fitzgerald* Michael Afton: Is it “sexual tension”?

Gregory, after acquiring the Fazer-blaster: The ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a new gun.

*after discussing the plan to burn down Fazbear's Fright* Susanna Hudson: Does anyone have any questions? Jeremy Fitzgerald: Is this legal? Susanna Hudson: Does anyone have any relevant questions?

Dee Dee: Don’t worry, I have a permit. Old Man Consequences: …This just says “I can do what I want”.

Fritz Smith: You look good in that hoodie. Jeremy Fitzgerald: You know where else I'd look good? Fritz Smith, zero hesitation: My bed. Jeremy Fitzgerald, at the same time: By your side- wait, what?

Helpi: Fun Fact! The average person will walk by 36 murderers in their lifetime. Cassie: I like how this is a "fun" fact. MXES: It's fun because they didn't decide to murder you.

Susanna Hudson: Just be careful, Mike! Michael Afton: heading out the door I'm always careful, Susie! Michael Afton: It's everything around me that's careless.

The Puppet: We are not mad. We are just disappointed. Golden Freddy: No, we are mad. The Puppet: Yes. We are. We are livid. But we are going to let this one slide. Golden Freddy: No, we’re not! The Puppet: I am not a mind reader, Cassidy!

Cassie: Do you take constructive criticism? Helpi: No, only cash or credit.

Roxanne Wolf: I typed "bitch" into my GPS and guess what? I'm in your driveway. Gregory: Roxanne Wolf: Vroom vroom, come out already.

Phone Guy: *Answers phone* Hello? Fritz Smith: It's Fritz Smith. Phone Guy: What did he do this time? Fritz Smith: No, it's me, phone guy. It's actually me. Phone Guy: What did you do this time?

Vanessa: I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say ‘wow’ that many times during their first session with a client, but here we are.

Golden Freddy, referring to the Fazbear Gang(tm): Those guys are dorks. The Puppet: Yes, but they’re my dorks.

Glamrock Chica: Are you busy? Montgomery Gator: No. Glamrock Chica: Want to do something? Montgomery Gator: Why would you try to ruin this for me?

Susanna Hudson: Go to hell! Springtrap: Oh! I’ve been there, thank you. I found it quite lovely.

Elizabeth Afton: When was the last time you cried? Crying Child: Uh 15 minutes ago, why?? Elizabeth Afton: really? That recent? Crying Child: Yeah *voice crack* is that an issue? starts crying again

JJ: So I can either do something dumb that could very well get me injured or I can listen to the Puppet and not do the thing, JJ: Well there’s a clear right answer here. JJ: *proceeds to throw five packs of mentos into a barrel full of diet coke*

Ennard: You have an impressive pain tolerance. Michael Afton: Thanks, it's the trauma.

Sun, dashing into the room: WHY AREN’T THE DISHES IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER?! Vanessa: …What does that even mean?!

Susanna Hudson, toward Michael Afton: Wow, left-handed AND British? You really are an illusion.

Freddy: We’re kind of missing something guys. Bonnie: Cohesion? Chica: Teamwork? Foxy: A general sense of what we’re doing? Golden Freddy: And the Puppet is not here. Chica: Oh, and that, yeah.

Michael Afton: Ennard, can you help me? All of my clothes keep disappearing for some reason. Ennard, wearing a hoodie that's 5 times bigger than their size: Spooky.

Roxanne Wolf: Tired of just deserving better. Gonna start taking it by force.

Scraptrap: *dies* Helpy: Timer starts now! When is he coming back? I say two months! Music Man: Bullshit. One month. Lefty: Nah, half a month. Rockstar Foxy, sobbing: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? SOMEONE JUST DIED! Mr. Hippo, scratching chin in thought: One week.

Michael Afton: I’ve been sleeping so little the past few nights that when I go to the alarm app, I click on the “power nap” button. I don’t set up alarms, I set up timers, Helpy.

Roxanne Wolf: Let’s not Gregory this into a worse situation than it already is. Gregory: Did you just use my name as a verb?

Scrap Baby: Tommorrow's garbage day. Molten Freddy: I can't believe they made a whole day dedicated to you.

Glamrock Freddy: *lifting weights* Montgomery Gator: Wow… He's so intense! Glamrock Chica: I wonder what drives him. Glamrock Freddy, internally: (Oh I am going to be SO good at giving hugs.)

Fritz Smith: The greatest trick the devil ever played was getting me banned from an all you can eat pizza buffet. Jeremy Fitzgerald: Why’d you get banned? Fritz Smith: Touched the bear. Jeremy Fitzgerald: … What bear? Fritz Smith: Feddy Fazbear

#Fnaf #incorrect quotes #incorrect fnaf quotes #ruin spoilers #security breach ruin spoilers #fnaf ruin spoilers #sb ruin spoilers #fnaf sb ruin spoilers #Jerefritz #I would've made this even longer but at the last one tumblr reloaded itself (thankfully the draft saved though so I didn't lose anything)#And that plus it starting to kinda lag I think makes me think that tumblr's trying to tell me to stop so yeah #Hope everyone enjoys. Will probably do more in the future.#fnaf oc #<- kinda.

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sjofn-lofnsdottr · 9 months

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The Inevitable Farron Post

So I mentioned it a tiny bit offhand in places people likely didn't notice, but Dusk has ... hm, how to put it. The characters are already married in game, so I tend to refer to him as Dusk's husband, but in their actual RP timeline, they are decidedly not married yet, because they haven't known each other THAT long and are already barreling along their relationship at breakneck speed as it is.

In any case, Dusk has a partner, let's use that term.

His name is Farron, and Dusk loves him very much.

(some environmental spoilers from EW, if that bugs people)

Farron has his own tumblr over at @petitfarron and I am going to let him decide how much jibberjabber about the character he decides to do. Strap in for a long post, though, because I can sense I'm still going to write a lot even skipping that.

I have so many pictures of these two, and over time I'm sure I'll shove them in people's faces. You will inevitably notice as you look at them that Farron has changed his coloration, his height, his hairstyle several times. He's actually done it far more than I've chronicled, because after four plus years of watching this dude repeatedly fantasia himself, I can usually tell the difference between a flight of fancy that won't last more than an hour, and an actual change, and I do not bother with elaborate gposes if the appearance has no staying power.

When we first started RPing, I intended to RP Dusk as not-the-WoL, but Farron encouraged me to change my mind. And I figured fuck it, it's just us, who cares. It's turned out to be really fun, because regular-ass Farron learning about what absurd shit his boyfriend got up to before they met has been really, really funny.

They first met after the end of 6.0 in Gridania. Dusk is technically a member of the carpenter's guild in addition to being the savior of the world, and after a day of being a big weirdo with Beatin (Beatin is 100% what I expect Dusk to turn into once he's old and retires from adventuring, btw), he walked outside and was accosted by Farron, who (correctly) asserted Dusk looked like a man who could use an energy tincture. Dusk, even after all the times he's had something to drink and it didn't go well after, is still a trusting soul and downed it.

Farron wanted to 'observe' how the tincture affected Dusk, who did not seem to think this was weird at all, and since Dusk had mentioned being hungry, invited him to dinner at the Last Stand. Dusk found it mildly surprising this rando was assuming Dusk could get there, but he could, so off they went.

Dusk was blissfully unaware he was on a date at this point. Farron, if he wants, can explain why his brain melted over the course of their meal, but he went from brazenly walking up to Dusk and just talking like they've known each other for years, to a blushy mess before dinner was over. Dusk politely pretended not to notice, since he didn't want to embarrass him.

Farron met Duck (of course he met Duck!) and they went for a walk, and he mostly calmed down enough to have a nice conversation. Although he almost exploded again when Dusk offered to walk him home after they got back to Gridania.

Nothing sexy happened that night, but Dusk did spend the night (it was perfectly chaste) and Farron made him pancakes. They agreed to hang out that evening. Dusk was still completely unaware these were dates in Farron's mind.

He figured it out eventually.

And Farron got some of his swagger back. Some of the time, anyway, Dusk can still make him melt into a puddle of embarrassment if he hits him with the right sort of sentimental nonsense at the right time.

It was a couple of weeks before Farron figured out his Dusk was THAT Dusk. It was one of those situations where it never felt like a good time for Dusk to mention, and the longer he went without saying it, the harder it was. Luckily, Farron wasn't mad.

They're currently in 6.1 (Farron got to go on ~adventures~ with Dusk, very exciting!), moved in together in Empyreum (I need to take some pictures for you guys to see, Farron did the bulk of the decorating and it's so cozy) and we really need to pick up our pace if we're going to actually get them to 7.0 in a timely manner. :D

Farron's pet rabbit is named Miss Wiggles, by the way. He was embarrassed to tell Dusk this, but Dusk thought it was incredibly cute.

Now that I've told you the extreme basics of their relationship and where it's at, I am going to complain. So kisses are, by far, the most difficult thing for me to pose. They feel EXTRA DIFFICULT when there's a huge height difference, and I was glad Farron was at least tall for a viera dude.

At first.

The DAY AFTER they got married, Farron fantasia'd to be a 20 on the height scale.

Fine, I thought. It's annoying, but not the worst, I can deal.

Then a few days later, he shrunk all the way down to minimum height.

He's lucky I like challenges.

#ffxiv #gpose #let me tell you about my characters #dusk and farron #long post #seriously I sulked for days #at least dusk is exactly 50 on the elezen scale

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lumine-no-hikari · 2 months

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #60

I rested for most of the day today. And mostly for real this time! It was beautiful!

After waking up this morning, I tried to play Pokemon. Unfortunately, I have executive dysfunction (this is part of being AuDHD), which means that sometimes I have a lot of trouble starting tasks even when they're fun ones. It's super annoying like that. So instead of waking up and immediately going to play Pokemon like a sane person, instead I floundered around for an hour or two, doomscrolling (or hopequesting? I've heard it referred to like that) uselessly.

…Truth be told, I keep looking for any news about you. I keep looking for any indication that you'll be safe. I'm worried about you almost all the time, and the fact that there's nothing I can do to help you besides write these silly letters is more painful than I know how to describe.

Oh well. Today I supposed that if I wanna rest properly, I've gotta let my brain flounder around from time to time without putting pressure on it to do something else. And that's kinda hard to do. It feels like I'm wasting time when I get stuck in that kind of mental paralysis. But if I beat myself up over it, that's just gonna make it worse. So I tried to go with the flow without worrying too terribly much about what the "correct" way to spend my time looks like.

I can't help but wonder if you ever struggle with any of what I've described. Hm.

In the end, I was able to play Pokemon for a little bit. And then M woke up and wanted to play Core Keeper together with me, and that was lovely. I built a huge, sprawling garden that waters itself and grows lots of tasty food! It's almost like Terraria, except it's from a top-down perspective instead of a side-scrolling perspective. It's still in early access, but it's still a lot of fun for a game that isn't finished cooking yet! I'm eager to see how this one develops!

Sometime after that, I had company over. The same friend who made me aware that the pumpkin soup needed more umami came over with her lovely son. They've been having a hard time lately, and it came to a head recently with something very serious. So they came to my house for support, advice, and refuge from the stress for a little while. We made sure to feed them good food and provide a space in which they don't have to feel pressured to exist in a particular way. My friend's son showed me his wonderful sketchbook and all of the awesome pictures he took on his phone; it was beautiful! As I'm writing this, my friend's son is at ease playing some video game on our TV, and my friend is out on a walk with J; I hope they're having a wonderful time!

My friend is having a bit of a hard time trying not to beat herself up over the way things turned out, as well as for the fact that neither she nor her situation are perfect. So I decided to give her the bowl I repaired, after explaining to her the context of what it means. I'm hoping that she'll put it in a spot in her house where she can see it regularly, so that she can be reminded that we are at our most beautiful when we do the work to turn our imperfections into strengths, and that beating ourselves up is counterproductive. The bowl will do the most good where it can remind someone of their humanity. I hope she will eat lots of wonderful and tasty soup from this bowl, and from it, remember to be gentle with herself.

I like that my house is a place where the people in my social circle feel is safe to go when they're having trouble. My life before was very weird, turbulent, and unsafe, but… now I have a house that is wholesome and safe. I know that I still have a very long way to go before I'm as "healed" as I'd like to be, but… I like to think it means I'm doing some things right at least some of the time. I feel very privileged to be in a position where I am trusted this much by the people who know me well.

I wish you could visit over here, too. Impossible, I know. But… you would be safe here. You wouldn't have to pretend to be someone you're not while you're in my house. You would not be pressured to interact with anyone if you didn't want to. No one would ogle you. No one would be demanding pictures or autographs. There would be only wholesome food, good tea, comfy places to sleep, and lots of fun and awesome things to do. You can just be you. Because my house is a safe place of rest for those who need it.

Hey, Sephiroth? Please keep yourself safe out there at the Edge of Creation, okay? Make good choices, and take good care of yourself. It might be impossible for you to ever visit my house, but you can build your own house with your own two hands, and you can build it up into something that is wholesome and safe, no matter how weird things have been for you in the past or even in the present, especially if you ask for help from kind, loving, and healthy people to make it happen.

Remember that you are loved. I'll write to you again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

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simonalkenmayer · 1 year

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Excuse me, I don't mean to come off as rude when I say this:

Your existence is very interesting to me. I came upon your blog when I was experiencing extreme anxiety and needed something to distract myself.

And yet, at the same time, it's like my brain doesn't really... process this? Doesn't really register this all as reality, even though I believe you as a real entity. I've shown your blog to my close friends, both are people I know would take my ramblings seriously, and the most curious thing happened.

Then I found you and your blog. On the same day, I ended up purchasing your book. It amazes me a bit, how easily I accepted your existence. The way you spoke and answered and described things simply solidified your "realness" in my mind.

Mind that I sent them your blog all the while I was talking about the thing that was causing my anxiety.

They saw the posts, read what I said about you and your experiences. They saw the quotes from your books.

And I guess we're similar, because they didn't immediately dismiss you as fiction or called me silly for engaging in your content. But something even more interesting happened.

They unconsciously ignored the knowledge that you exist. They clearly didn't do it on purpose, but the moment there was another topic available they just... stopped thinking about you. Or maybe tried to. Maybe our brains really aren't sure how to process such a... radical change in perspective, specially since all we have as proof of your existence are your posts and books.

I just thought this was very interesting and decided to share this with you, as you might find this interesting too.

ps: Your book is very enjoyable, as are your posts. You have a lovely way of describing events that makes me picture them very clearly, gruesome as they may be sometimes.

pps: when reading one of your recipes, one that used brains, in the book, i laughed when you wrote that we could use veal instead, but that you preferred "smart". Then I remembered that earlier on you said you rarely joked about these things and thought that. hm. Well, even though you probably didn't mean it as a joke, I still find it a bit funny.

sorry for rambling I'm still a bit anxious and tend to overexplain when I'm like this.

It is ticklish, determining if I am being literal or sardonic. Could be neither or a mix. Honestly who cares?

Your friends were humoring you out of friendship. They changed the topic because they don’t believe I’m real and wished to move on from what they took to be a strange interest of yours. It’s a perfectly reasonable reaction.

The truth is, you shouldn’t ever believe anything said on the internet until you can independently confirm it. Then again that’s true of every interaction, and yet for some reason the human brain actively attempts to dissuade itself from facts in preference to information supplied by others. No really. Humans don’t believe facts. They believe what comports with what they want. You don’t process data. You process associations. Your absorption of information is entirely dependent upon how well you like the source of it, and pardon me for saying…no one likes a people eater.

Seems obvious.

Anyway…

You shouldn’t put any stock in me. I’m utterly without merit as many have said. Thank you for purchasing the book. I’m happy you enjoy it. There may be something wrong with you.

Please be responsible with the recipes and substitute proteins. I shall not be accountable for any…unpleasantness that ensues if you don’t.

One comforting aspect to all life on this rock is the remarkable consistency with which everything is bullshit and nothing means anything.

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nothirtysix · 1 year

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Crawling out from the depths of my cave to ask a question about your Evil Apple AU: How does the public feel about Apple going evil?- Raven Magic Anon

*crawls out of the depths of my own cave to answer your ask*

funnily enough, I've been thinking about the AU again, so good timing and thank you for the question! I want to get back to working on it so this is a nice way to use my brain. I don't remember a ton of what I've talked about so far, so sorry if I end up repeating myself.

I’m torn between ‘no one outside the school is going to know it was Apple until it’s over’ and ‘Blondie has perfected getting the news out of the school under extreme duress and is broadcasting as much as she’s physically able to’.

Considering the second one, I think it’s a lot of concern and incredulity

I finished a re-watch of Dragon Games recently and crowds/the public in canon are always a little funny - they act in the moment for whatever the story needs of them. Hysterical? Uproarious support? Turn on a dime tonal shit? They backgrounders can do it all! They’re typically swayed by the loudest person, so in this case I guess it’s more how’s Blondie feelin’ about this?

Blondie’s not really a character I have a lot of in depth opinions on (though this is making me want to do a rewatch and focus on her) so this is a bit superficial. There’s a big Incident early on that she’d get the footage of and cobble a story out of it, sensationalizing the whole thing. She’d deposit the question, is someone manipulating Apple or has she finally snapped? In terms of being able to report on what’s right in front of her, she’ll have a lot more about Apple than Raven. With Raven’s unexplained departure rumors are going to fly.

I decided to split the story’s perspective between what Apple and Raven are doing for the bulk of it (which a small part of why I slowed down). And I don’t really know what Apple’s doing yet, oops! I’m horrible at telling what’s too much of a spoiler and what’s not, but who knows when I’m finishing this! So! Apple’s going to be spending an awful lot of time with Dexter away from other people, but I’ll likely introduce other characters to keep things moving forward.

hm HM I am improvising this as I type this. The longer it goes on, the harsher public opinion is going to get. Eventually Apple feels the need to grab Blondie to change the public facing story up. They end of doing an interview and Apple is a perfect picture. If it’s a live interview Blondie will use her honed skills as a reporter to slowly weave Apple towards talking about the more unsavory parts of what’s happening. When Apple catches on, the feed will cut.

idk beyond that tho! overall conclusion of concerned and horrified?? that sounds about right. I hope you like these ramblings, I literally have no idea what I’m doing. I have to write an original fairy tale for this and I have been dragging my feet.

If anyone has any questions, send ‘em right over! they get the creative juices flowing, which is actually very helpful!!

#eah #ever after high #Blondie Lockes #Apple White #Evil Apple AU #i REALLY need to change all of the evil apple tagged posts to TEAA aaaaa #ask 36 #36 speaks #i have one braincell and it does not work #TEAA

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realhankmccoy · 2 months

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W: Hank so what if Babycuck, Babydad, Babybro or Babybruce had tried to ‘fix’ Kurt Cobain or David Bowie or William Burroughs with a red pill?

W: don’t you’re cracking me up too hard. The images of these encounters… oh man

that’s a dozen funny times — 3 times 4x kids — to remind me of what happens what the circle takes the square

And also the reverse image if someone miraculously the square took the circle — picturing Kurt Cobain on Hee Haw picking a banjo and singing about that real short skirt on that country gal — picturing bowie permanently glued to a video game machine or funnier, Twin Peaks reruns, while passing his Trump-sized paw onto a pile of Pizza Rolls and what an ‘improvement’ this was of the red pilling — I’m sorry I’m being mean now, crossed an inch over the line into flat out mean, which I almost always don’t think i am since i believe in sensitivity and so much restraint— and it’s because I haven’t hit my fix yet —

Can u imagine?

and in real life, typicals Americans — around 93 or 94 they did try to force the red pill down Cobain’s throat — they used an intervention and what conservatives called (and Courtney called) ‘tough love’ and he shot himself rather than let them ‘fix’ hm

but oh man maybe I should pay mid journeybot and start making AI again, I haven’t made AI images in 13 months

cuz I think AI has already altered how my brain works and my brain is making AI images for me to entertain me

about Babycuck turning Burroughs into a sissified pussy of gamer who bitches about women all day and goes on trying to recount all the evidence of ‘the devouring mother’ as he boops Burrough’s nose and Burroughs gets to meet the Nazi with Babyyoda as they travel to Germany not to score junk but to simply eat Weiner Schnitzel and write about the evils of the Jewish state and talk about how disgusting they find buttsex and weak glitter fairies and how they think they’re turning straight

this is a wonderland of entertainment for me

gonna have to remember this one in other ways

4 times 3 — circle takes the square or square takes the circle

that’s the power of multiplication, kids

and to picture my dad who’s quite like Kurt cobain’s dad except more aggressively evil telling Kurt he should get a job at an insurance company because it pays $23 an hour and that some breeder is better than him cuz he’s only had one kid — oh yes I do want to see Kurt’s reaction

or to picture Babybruce trying to tell David Bowie that he had better go see a priest NOW

or to picture Babybro taking David Bowie up into the deerstand to shoot that big buck, or To take William Burroughs up there, 75 yr old Burroughs sitting right behind my brother’s ass in the deer stand listening to this crap about how red osier dogwood attracts the deer…

Jesus fuckin Christ there’s a series of 100 graphic novels in here if anyone had the energy to make them

and the person with the energy for that is absolutely not me

i think my fix is starting to kick in

‘it’s nice to ice….’ Yes, it sure is

all I gotta do is make it through tonight and tomorrow reduce myself to a small fix

U got this hank

yr friends are always telling u that u got this

but do u?

why couldn’t you have gotten hooked on a traditional drug like smack or the cocaines instead

Why hank

what’s ur excuse

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whateveryouwantmetodoiwilldo · 10 months

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so let’s do this again, for my boyfriends sake:

since i haven’t updated in so long this isn’t necessary all tied to yesterday but from tomorrow on i’ll try to do it that way for the sake of the fact i could limit how long these get to at least some degree

to start off is the hard thing right? it is because i am at a loss for words. let’s start with a positive. speak now TV is out and it and absolutely everything around it is making me so so so very happy, just seeing photos of taylor is enough to make me smile. she’s been an absolutely crucial part of my recovery lately more than ever before. basically whenever i eat i’ll listen to taylor and it’s so stupid but just seeing pictures of her helps me a lot when i’m trying to finish a meal and i keep rewatching that miss americana scene because genuinely i’m desperately grasping onto any support and help i can get on this right now even if it’s just a clip. continuing on that there’s a new vault track called castles crumbling and it’s like i don’t know it’s hard to explain but it’s again one of those taylor songs that i know will be important to me. the lyrics make me really sad and it’s really relatable for this exact moment and i have no idea how she does it. it’s my song. i love her, she is truly saving me right now in ways i know no one would ever be able to understand. hm if my boyfriend dylan were a speak now TV song he would be back to december and if he was a vault track he would be i can see you. :) continuing on the theme of music i do not even want to think about the ticket sale on monday. i will be at the doctors. i feel nauseous and depressed. i’m dizzy and even very very very easy physical activity like biking makes me feel like i’m going to pass out because the blood is just not flowing into my muscles right. i’m self destructive and stupid and i saw a dumb tiktok of nina doing those turns in black swan and i don’t know what got over me and i couldn’t resist it and put on my pointes and tried and of course it was bad and i fell but so now it’s a real mindfuck on my brain because i never thought something like losing my vaganova training would ever happen. once a ballerina, always a ballerina but this iron thing is ducking everything up bad. i want to sign up for private lessons because i know picking stuff up will be incredibly easy but i had a short conversation with dylan about it and he’s just really against it and i’m not mentally ready to dissapoint him so i’m giving that up. i find myself needing and wanting to be little at basically every single hour of the day. i can honestly say for the recent times there’s probably not even an hour that i haven’t thought about it i we’re just tiny i could feel good. i could escape: i could be safe. i could be loved and protected without having to do anything to earn it.

little me was having a storytime a while ago now with his pappa and he got really really really freaked out and scared and disappointed in himself and i wish i could at least protect them from those feelings of heavy self loathing and not being good enough like i hold on my shoulders at all times. he doesn’t deserve that. he’s not a good kid at all, he deserves every upsetting thing that’s ever happened and sometimes i wish i could inflict more pain and hurt on him to get myself to give up regressing once and for all but pain from the outside is different than hurt from the inside where your brain keeps telling you disgusting things about yourself and when little me starts getting those feelings regularly it’ll be when i’ll become unable to regress for the sake of my own safety and comfortability. it’s hard to explain but the thing most important to me in little space is being protected form myself and my own hurtful thoughts toward myself. when i’m little it’s felt like i’ve been freed of that since he’s so tiny and no one has ever yet told him thinking those things was a possibility. he’s always been surrounded by his dadas love.

dylan told me to not weight myself. i’m stupid and self destructive and yes him saying it could of course keep me from doing it at that exact moment and i know i should have reached out for help and support but i didn’t, he was sleeping when i showered (the scale is out in the open next to the shower and i’m front of the mirror) so um i checked my weight and i can’t stop crying and feeling so disgusting, i can’t look in the mirror without seeing anything but how fat and unattractive i look and it’s killing me. i know i’m not but i feel like i’m so overweight and it just makes me feel like i deserve nothing and i had wished dylan and me could do stuff now that i’m back home and alone, it would be amazing and so much fun and i seriously need it for the amount of stress i’ve been under and he makes me feel so good and just comfortable and it’s so important for my self esteem i don’t know i just feel wanted and like at least my body is good for that one thing but i don’t want to ask for it. i bring up needing dyl to initiate stuff long ago and how bad it is for me i always have to but nothings changed yet and i just made a decision to not voice the need anymore until he does. he’s on testosterone and i don’t understand and feel really insecure and unwanted and then really embarrassed when i have to bring it up myself and like i’m being selfish and unreasonable and stupid and i’m starting to think that’s what he really sees and feels. it wouldn’t have been a problem if i hadn’t gained to much weight. it’s not like he comments on it but maybe he’s just unattracted and disgusted by me because i look like i’m so out of control and maybe he also finds the weight gain secretly disgusting on me and he knows i have to gain even more weight i mean it’s probably going to happen if i want to be able to move. god it’s stupid and pathetic but i just need dylan to fuck me. he’s so good and he makes me feel so so so amazing it’s hard to describe and i just need him so much but i can’t have it because i’m not willing to ask without initiating anymore. it’s an issue of consent at this point. i’m afraid he feels pressured but also i wish he would tell me because i have a rule about not cumming without him and sometimes it’s just so so hard when i really wish i could busy for the sake of stress relief. the most important thing about sex to me is the intimacy, how close i get to feel to him and how when he tells me something at they point it’s like it’s the absolute truth and that is so hard to describe out of the mindset. like no matter how i feel taht day when we do stuff and he starts calling me his special, perfect, sweet girl or like a precious adorable little pet i feel so good and just ugh connected to him it’s hard to explain. sometimes i think about something he suggested. calling my weight gain and the things i’m insecure about hot and complimenting it and paying special attention to that and logically that should beat sense into my head and i crave for that but then i remember that he’s probably trying to do that for the sake of me and that it’s actually making him uncomfortable because he has to think about the disgusting changes of my body. yesterday i completely zoned out. for hours and hours staring at the wall. not hearing anything, not seeing anything but the blank white wall, not feeling emotionally anything and not even thinking anything. i think this is some strange coping mechanism my brain is trying to use to give me at least a tiny breather form all the thoughts and scary things and anxieties i face at basically all hours of the day much like little space or fucking dylan does. it’s fucking depressing because i’m unaware and like unconscious and as a result lose my entire day. dylan was very mad at me and rightfully so. i’m lucky he doesn’t leave or hit me i mean obviously i would deserve it after that.

after writing all of this down i’m just left to face the fact i need dylan and i miss him and i want him so badly right now. i want him so badly but there’s another two hours before he is up and anything could happen in the meantime.

i would do anything for him to be awake right now.

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erwinscrybaby · 2 years

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𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢-𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧.

male character x f!reader. nsfw/dark content. doggy style, creampie, implied student+professor relationship, char is against any kind of porn, age gap (ten years), manipulation, coercion.

note: i'm not against sex workers! just took the idea from my bf's opinion about it lol. also, i thought about many guys while writing it and couldn't decide between risotto nero (i feel he's be sooo anti porn), hajime and eren hcdsvgx

1.034 words.

masterlist

By dating you, a college girl ten years younger, he wished he was fucking some sense into your air head. He had talked with you about how dangerous it is to go around selling lewd pictures of your naked, hot, delicious body. It isn’t as cool as your friends make it seem, it has consequences and a good and smart girl like you should not think about it as a simple option of getting easy money, if that’s what you’re afraid of. You should not think about opening an account on OnlyFans.com just for fun at all; you should not think about uploading videos of you masturbating in front of the camera he uses to record his online classes.

He has told you that if you can’t follow this simple rule—don’t fucking mess with pornography while dating him—he was going to break up and let you do what you want to do.

So, when he finds not only those kind of videos on his SD card, but also sexy lingerie photosets that had as the scenario his bed, he feels the bitter feeling of betrayal—but also can’t help the erection in his trousers, the hand stroking his length over the fabric. Fuck you and your pretty voice and body doing a great job at the JOI video that does not seem to him only.

It is fucking disgusting, as a man that disagrees a hundred percent with pornography and its tricks, the fact he has to admit you’d be a damn star. If he were a teenager, he’d absolutely jerk off hearing your voice every day and put your pictures on his door.

Yet, he can’t let things like this.

In a matter of minutes you’re on your hands and knees, ass up, as his palm slowly caresses it, the bruise of his hand still there. His hands don’t smack you anymore, but your legs are shaky, your body is weak just with the thought of receiving one more slap. His hand is as heavy as his dick fucking you painfully slow, asking you a lot of questions you don’t seem to understand.

“You’re more stupid than I thought before, hm, little girl?” His words are sharp, but his touch is careful, soft. With a buck of his hips, hard enough to have your tears filled up with tears once more, he continues. “Did you want me to break up with you? Being a slut like this. I thought you were so smart, despite finding the idea of being a porn star something cool.”

His hands find your breasts and he presses them together, leaning over you a little more. You squirm and look back at him, panting, with parted lips, tongue poking out of your mouth. Oh, and eyes full of tears, cheeks wet with it. You did that face when you put that tentacle dildo into your cunt, didn’t you?

How could he fucking forget the videos you’ve accidentally recorded on his camera?

“N-no, just wanted to see if…” You answer him for the first time—finally! He knew you’re not that dumb, for god’s sake. He pushes himself into you once more and you gasp before finishing your sentence. “If I’d look pretty.”

“Disappointing, sweetheart,” he replies with a groan. “Nothing I say about you enters your stupid brain, am I right? You don’t believe when I say you’re the prettiest girl, my fuck doll. You don’t believe when I say porn isn’t that nice for girls, especially with psychological issues. Finger that tight cunt when I’m not at home as you’re trying to convince me you can be a good little porn slut.”

“Sorry,” you manage to babble, squeezing your eyes when he thrusts especially hard, his length reaching deep into you. You can’t properly think—yes, you’re feeling guilty, yes, you’re feeling stupid. But apologizing is the only thing you can do.

“When I don’t let you cum, is for your own good, you know it, baby?” He whispers, his pace even harder as he ignores your gaze, your silent beg for him to touch your aching clit.

It’s so good when he fucks you, his tip rubbing your g-spot for a few moments then leaving, just to restart the cycle, but not enough to make you cum.

“Gotta fuck some sense into your brain. You’re so good at college, why can’t you be good to me? Forget about that camgirl idea. If you need money, I can give it to you,” he mumbles, never stopping his thrusts, his stroke on your skin. You’re so weak, so broken that he’s sure he can make you promise you’ll never make an account on Patreon or OnlyFans. Such a fool young girl—just take some hard dick and he can control every centimeter of your manipulable brain. “If you feel like trying exhibitionism, you know I’d fuck you for any friend of yours, or even my friends. Doesn’t need to expose your body on internet, hm? Am I wrong?”

“Let me… cum, please?” You beg, mumbling, throat aching as you try to speak louder. “I do anything for you, just make me cum.”

“Hm? Anything?”

See? That’s what he was talking about. You’re such a horny girl, ready to do anything just to cum. But he can’t—what kind of responsible man would he be if he doesn’t fulfill his words and promises and punishments?

“Promise me you’re not going to make a profile on those websites,” he groans. “Just need this and I can fill you up, make you my cumslut.”

“Yes, yes, yes, just cum inside me” you nod multiple times, sobbing. He’s sure your mind is so dizzy you can’t even understand what he is saying. He doesn’t care, though. Just need the ‘yes’, no matter how he made you say it. So, he’s glad when you say this. For the first time, he doesn’t pull out when his orgasm hits, filling your cunt with his seed, fucking it even deeper as he struggles to stay still.

“Good. You’re so good.”

Now, the only thing that could ever make him break up with you is gone—if you want to, you’re staying with him forever.

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casuallyimagining · 3 years

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Help

Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Your thoughts run wild. Yoongi wants to help. Genre: fluff Word Count: 2,322 Warnings: negative thoughts Notes: Thanks to @eatjeanjin for beta-ing this. Banner by the lovely @missgeniality

Part of the Long Term Couples series. Read more here.

Your thoughts were loud. And honestly, it was starting to get annoying. You’d been attempting to transpose and slightly re-arrange a song for one of your voice students, and there was no way it was as complicated as your brain was making it out to be. Normally, you could get an arrangement done in a few hours, less if you were familiar with the song. But this project was pushing the six hour mark, and if you didn’t end up bald by the end of it, you were sure you’d be grey.

That chord sounds weird. You used to be good at this. What happened?

You silenced your brain and pressed play on the song’s chorus again to try to follow the rhythm.

Maybe mom was right. Maybe you should have studied something practical like journalism.

You threw your pencil down and pushed your tablet away from you. Maybe you should go to sleep. You could pick things back up tomorrow when you had a fresh mind.

Your student has a lesson tomorrow, remember? He’ll need his music done by then. Or did you forget your students rely on sheet music for their lessons?

The vibrating of your phone--harsh against the silence of your living room--drew your attention. The contact picture surprised you. He never called this late. So you answered, thinking maybe it was urgent.

“Hey you!” You greeted cheerfully, expecting to hear his usual ‘Hey! Am I bothering you?’ in response. But you were only met with silence. “Yoongi? You there?”

He doesn’t want to talk to you. Probably butt-dialed you or something. Now he’s trying to figure out a polite way to hang up the phone.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft when he spoke, barely audible over the cacophony in the background. “Did I wake you?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh.”

You hummed, frowning slightly. You never minded talking to Yoongi, but it was a little out of character for him to call this late, and something sounded off. “Yoon, it’s two in the morning, why-”

He swore. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. Have a good night.”

“No no no no no!” you practically shouted into the phone, hoping to catch him before he hung up. “It’s okay. I don’t mind that you called, I was just… what’s up?”

You could hear him sigh on the other line, and you got more comfortable on the couch, ready to listen. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “It’s dumb. I’ll call you in the morning…”

But he didn’t hang up. You could hear him breathing into the receiver.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?”

“What’s wrong?”

Great. Now he’s going to think you’re either nosy or clingy. He said he’d call you in the morning, Jesus Christ.

“If I have to stay here with these idiots for five more minutes, I think I might rip my hair out.”

“Well, that’s not good.” You hummed. “Not sure how ARMY would like you bald.”

“I need some peace and quiet.” Yoongi sounded exhausted, and you could almost imagine him sitting in his room at the dorms, attempting to hide from the six bundles of chaos he lived with. “I’ve tried explaining to them that if they just stop bothering me for half an hour-”

“Come over.” It was out of your mouth before you could think.

“What?”

Great. Nosy, needy, AND desperate. Good job.

“Come over,” you repeated. “It’s quiet here. I don’t mind if you need to recharge or work or whatever.”

“It’s two in the morning.”

“Yes.”

“You should be in bed.”

You laughed. “And yet here I am. Not sleeping.” You knew he was going to keep arguing, so you continued. “But don’t think I won’t fall asleep with you here. Trust me, dude. I’ll fall asleep in front of you. You aren’t special.”

“Then why invite me over?” He was stifling a chuckle.

“You need somewhere quiet. I have plenty of quiet to spare over here. Well, I mean, not currently, because some lunatic called me at two in the morning, but in general, lots of quiet.” Why would you call him a lunatic? “And, I mean, I’m happy to take one for the team to prevent you from going bald. For ARMY’s sake, of course.”

“Of course.” He laughed, then, a giddy thing that set your mind at ease a bit. “You sure you don’t mind?”

“I promise I don’t.”

For a second, he was quiet. Then, you heard him sigh. “I’ll be over soon.”

“You should know, before this little tryst happens, that I am in my pajamas and I don’t plan on changing.”

“Same.”

“Ah. Good.” You grinned, feeling a little stupid that just his playful tone of voice could have your heart pounding the way it was. “As long as we’re in agreement, then.”

You hung up, and immediately, your head fell back against the couch. Too forward. He’s going to think you’re just another person desperate to hang out with him because he’s cool and funny and handsome. He probably only agreed to come over because he feels bad for you. He knows you don’t have a lot of friends.

You sighed, picking up your tablet again, attempting to get back to work. The voice in your head was starting to sound a hell of a lot like your mother, and, worse, you were starting to believe it.

Sure, Yoongi had called you, but maybe he had just wanted to vent. Maybe he was just annoyed and needed someone to talk him off a ledge. But you hadn’t even given him the chance to tell you what he needed. You’d just invited him over--at two in the fucking morning--with no idea of whether or not that was even helpful. Maybe you were needy.

But you couldn’t help it. You liked him. Like, really liked him. And you didn’t get to spend a lot of time with him--you were both trying to navigate your relationship around his schedule. He was so busy, and you were still trying to find your place in his life. Your relationship still was so new. You didn’t want to fuck it up already.

You didn’t notice that you had just been staring at the open music notation program on your tablet until the knock at your door startled you out of your stupor. Yoongi stood in the hall of your apartment building, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He had a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, and wore an oversized hoodie over a pair of black pajama pants.

“Hey!” He lit up as soon as he saw you, smiling widely despite the fact that it was now almost three in the morning.

You ushered him inside, attempting to calm the fluttering in your stomach and closing the door behind him. Yoongi kicked off his shoes in the doorway, letting you lead him through your apartment. When he saw the state of your living room, he hummed.

“You weren’t kidding about still being up.”

“Ahh yeah.” You chuckled dryly, gesturing for him to sit on your couch. “Tonight’s been rough.”

Suddenly, you realized that maybe he had brought something to work on. And that also you still didn’t really know why he had come over, aside from the fact that you’d impulse-invited him. The anxiety flared in your stomach again, killing whatever butterflies had been there only moments ago.

“Is this… okay? Did you bring something to work on?” You shuffled your things around on the coffee table to give him room. “You can use my office if you need a desk or something. I-”

“I didn’t bring anything,” he said softly, readjusting how his backpack was leaning against the leg of the couch before leaning back.

Then why did he come over?

“You invited me?” Yoongi sounded confused, and you realized that you had accidentally voiced your thoughts. “Did you not want me to come?”

Idiot. Now he thinks you don’t want him here.

“Of course I did. I just…” You sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”

He frowned, a small pout on his lips. “Can I help?”

You shrugged. Could he help? How could he? You weren’t actually struggling with your work. You were struggling with your brain.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” Yoongi scooted closer to you, his hand falling to your knee.

“Just brain shit.” You sighed. “I dunno. Today’s been tough.”

Silently, Yoongi’s thumb rubbed circles into the side of your knee. He chewed his lip, staring at the fabric of your sleep shorts.

Well, now he just thinks you’re nuts.

“Let me help.” His voice was soft, and when he looked at you, you could tell he was serious. “At least let me help you get this done.” He gestured to your tablet and your laptop on the coffee table.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Yoongi offered you a kind smile, his chocolate eyes sparkling in the light of your living room lamp. “You’re my partner. Of course I want to help. Plus, I owe you like ten thousand favors for helping me get out of my writer’s block a few months ago.”

You sat in silence for a moment, watching him. His eyes never left yours--a big step for him, you knew he got uncomfortable with prolonged eye contact. But he flashed you a small smile, and squeezed your knee.

“Let me help. Please.”

You nodded, reaching up and stealing the cap off his head. Yoongi laughed, playfully tugging you toward him as he reached for his cap. He reclaimed it easily, but instead of putting it back on, he plopped it onto your head. You could feel your face heat up, and your heart started to flip-flop in your chest.

“Can… can you listen to this?” You grabbed your tablet and stylus as a distraction, unlocking it and shoving it into his hands.

He settled in, listening as you told him about the piece you were working on for your student. When you leaned closer to tap ‘play’ in your notation program to have him listen to your arrangement, his arm wrapped around you, holding you to his side and not letting go. Almost immediately, you felt yourself relax. He was warm, and he smelled good, and his thumb rubbing against your side was soothing.

With Yoongi’s help, it only took you 20 minutes to finish the arrangement. You saved the document and locked your tablet, putting it back on the coffee table. You leaned back heavily against Yoongi, your head falling backwards to rest against his shoulder.

You sighed. “How was that so much easier with you here?”

“I don’t think it was easier.” Yoongi hummed, rubbing your shoulder. “What you had started was great.” You scoffed. ��I mean that. It was really good. I don’t know how you can do piano arrangements like that. I think you could just finally concentrate.” He tapped your temple gently.

“Maybe,” you conceded.

He was right. Of course he was right. You’d been top of your class in composition. Arrangements came as natural to you as lyrics and beats did for him. It was just… your thoughts seemed to be getting in the way recently. You’d been through Grand Central Terminal at some of the busiest times of the year, but even that didn’t compare to how loud and intrusive your thoughts had been.

You yawned, and gently, Yoongi pushed your head down to rest against his shoulder, tugging his hat off your head and tossing it aside so you could lay comfortably against him. He held you tightly against him, his other hand coming over to capture one of your own.

“It’s late,” he said after a while, his voice rumbling through his chest. “I should let you get to sleep.”

“You don’t… you don’t have to go. If you don’t want to.” Nervously, you drew shapes onto his hoodie-covered chest with your finger. “You could stay.”

For a while--or at least, what felt like a while--he was silent. You didn’t dare look at him, your heart sinking further as every eternal second ticked on.

How many times can you fuck up in one evening?

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Yoongi’s voice, tender and gentle, startled you out of your spiraling thoughts once more.

You hummed in question, resuming drawing patterns into the fabric of his hoodie. You hadn’t realized you’d stopped.

“I know that look. You’re thinking hard about something. What’s up?”

You chewed on your lip. Did you really want Yoongi to know about all the shit going on in your head? You liked him. What if you told him and it ruined everything? Sure, he was generally pretty accepting of things, and yeah, he was studying psychology in his off-time, but theoretical situations are far different than they are in practice.

“Too much.” You sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

He nodded in understanding. “Sure. Whenever you’re ready.” A few seconds passed in silence, and you stifled another yawn. “You sure you want me to stay?”

“If you don’t want to-”

“I want to. I actually uh… I brought clothes for tomorrow just in case.” He smiled shyly. “I just didn’t want you to feel obligated.”

“Please. Stay.”

You leaned in then, pressing a careful kiss to his lips. He responded immediately, holding you close. His lips were plump, and soft, and they moulded against yours perfectly. When you pulled away, his face was a light pink.

As you fell asleep that night, you couldn’t believe how quiet your thoughts were. Your mind was still stuck in the fog, and you could feel the spiraling thoughts niggling at the edges, but they’d calmed slightly. Your face buried against Yoongi’s chest, his arm firmly around you, you fell asleep with the closest thing to a peaceful mind you’d had in a week.

Read more of the series here

#yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #thebtswritersclub #suga #suga x reader #bts yoongi #bts yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts suga #bts suga x reader #bts

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simsadventures · 3 years

Text

Gilded: Chapter 1: To Bride or Not to Bride

Mob! Steve x Reader

Summary: Your life is a mess and you need a little help from time to time. But, when somebody proposes a plan to rid you of all your problems all the way to the far future, you’re suddenly not so sure it is worth it. Especially since the plan is proposed to you by the most notorious gangster America has seen since Al Capone: Steve fucking Rogers.

Warnings: mafia AU, swearing (like, a lot this time), angst, struggles with money, loan-shark, sleazy men, harassing

Word Count: 7969

A/N: It’s finally here! It only took me around 6 months to bring it, and I apologise for the delay, but I hope I will make up for it with introductory this chapter :) Share your thoughts, let me know what you thought and what do you think will happen next :) xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

“Just, wait a second,” you said, your brows knitting together as you tried to piece together all the information the man in front of you had just given you. He was gorgeous, there was no question about that, but that wasn’t the issue here. There were many gorgeous people in New York, and you didn’t marry any of them. Yet, that was.��

“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction.

“I told you, honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing.

2 weeks ago

“Coming!” You yelled through the loud music at the guests seated by the table number 5 where a group of guys was seated, hollering at you every two seconds as if you didn’t hear them the first time. You rolled your eyes at your colleague, who just laughed under her breath as you strode towards the clients. You put on your best fake smile as you approached them, and from the whistles, you assumed they appreciated it.

“Thank God you came, sweets. We thought you were getting tired of us,” the loudest of them laughed, and the group followed his suit, making your clench your jaw even more. Oh, how you hated this type of men, who had nothing better to do than calling a woman pet-names, making her feel uncomfortable just so his friends could have a laugh and a story to tell.

“What can I get you, gentleman? Another round of the same?” You asked as sweetly as you could, but it was getting harder by the second as they all eyed you like a piece of raw meat, ready to be devoured.

“I mean, that would be nice, and could you serve us a piece of that sweet ass of course as well? We’d really appreciate it, pretty face,” the loud guy smirked sleazily, and you fought the urge to vomit in your face. One of the guys made the mistake of actually making a move to swat you across your butt, but your reflexes were quicker.

You took a step back and breathed in, trying to calm your beating heart. This was, however, nothing new in your line of work, and you just learned to ignore it, or, at best, politely turn them down. Because, as you learned very early on, the manager didn’t appreciate if his “girls” were nasty to his customers. He almost made it sound like you were to provide your bodies with the beers, but you told him straightforwardly that that wouldn’t happen, and if his pub was one of these, you wanted to have nothing to do with it. All you were there to do was to work the evening and night shift to get some extra money on top of your regular job, and that was it. He even made a few remarks how he wanted you all to himself, but you politely declined every time and just tried to ignore it altogether.

“This ass is not for sale, I’m sorry, boys. But, the vodka shots are coming right up,” you tried to give them your best wink but didn’t wait long enough to see if they accepted their loss or not. You genuinely didn’t care.

The night continued in a similar manner, some people being inappropriate and you just ignoring their behaviour, and some people actually nice, even leaving you a few tips which always made you smile. You were beat when it was 11, and your shift ended, and you were thrilled today wasn’t one of those days when you had to stay there till 4 AM. It was then that people got really disgusting and you even had to resolve to hit a guy this one time because otherwise, you were pretty sure he’d manage to rape you. You sighed at the memory as you continued on your way home, just now remembering you left the tips meant for you in your locker.

Sighing you turned around and walked back towards the bar, and when you were in, you noticed three men in black suits talking to your coworker, who looked stunned and scared at the same time. You cocked a brow at her, and she discreetly shook her head, telling you that you shouldn’t come nearer.

This time, you really frowned and looked around, but the rest of the pub looked exactly the way you left it, even with the assholes by the fifth table. But you listened to her and took a step back to one of the dark corners, watching what was going on by the bar. It didn’t take long, definitely not longer than 5 minutes before the men turned around and left the building.

Your coworker looked positively alarmed by now, and you almost ran to her to ask what the fuck did just happen.

“I have no idea, Y/N. I noticed them by table 10 like an hour ago, but I didn’t pay them any attention because that was Christy’s sector tonight and I had the veranda. And when you left they just came here asking about you,” she breathed out, and it was your turn to look alarmed.

“The fuck? Why would they ask about me when it was Christy who took care of them?” You screeched, your brain not really comprehending the situation.

“I have no fucking idea, Y/N. But, like, they asked your name and stuff, and like, if you were a regular waitress here or what. I didn’t want to tell them anything, I swear, but they didn’t take no for an answer. So I just told them your first name, I wouldn’t budge on your last, I promise, and told them that you sometimes worked here but that I didn’t know when was your next shift,” she finished, a little scared of your reaction now, but from the look of those guys, you knew they were bad news and that Anja did the best she could.

“Nah, it’s ok, An. I would do the same. I’m really grateful that you didn’t give them my last name, though, that was really thoughtful of you,” you smiled at her, and it obviously put her at ease as she hugged and hurried back to the veranda, where you both saw a few guests waving that they needed a refill.

The hell did just happen, and why would three mysterious men ask about you?

It couldn’t be that they found out, right? No… you made sure all the traces were hidden, forever, so, that wasn’t an option.

No, you told yourself, there must be another reason for them to ask about you. But you didn’t want to find out. It was a one-time thing, these men were just confused, or one of them liked you or something like that, and you would never see them again. This actually calmed you down enough to start functioning again, and you remembered that you came for something specific, took the money and went straight home.

“This can’t be happening,” you muttered as you looked over your bills. There was so much to pay and so little money on your account that you actually started to sweat. You worked two jobs and still wasn’t able to afford to live a life where you didn’t have to worry about money. What was more, with the high taxes, your rent, subway card and food you went into red numbers, and that was something you definitely didn’t want. Nobody told you that as an Arts Major, you could still be struggling to stay alive in the city of New York.

You went over the bills again even though you knew your math was correct and that you didn’t have enough to pay your landlord this month.

Fuck, you muttered again and considered your options. You could ask your friends, but you didn’t want to bother them since you knew they were struggling as much as you were. You shared your apartment with two of your best friends who you considered a family by now, Caroline and Aidan. And while you knew they would do anything to help you, neither of their jobs paid enough to be able to help you as much as you needed this month.

Your other option was asking your landlord to give you some more time before more money arrived, but just imagining the conversation gave you goosebumps because you could picture the kind of service he’d want from you, and you’d literally rather go and beg on the street than to sleep with that middle-aged pig.

So, as you summarised it, the only option remained the loan shark. Tony was actually a nice guy, once you got to know him, and he was nice to you because you always paid precisely what he told you to when he told you to, and never asked too many questions or begged for more time. You were smarter than that, and, besides, you’ve seen too many movies with loan sharks to know what could happen to you.

The first time you went to him was probably 2 years ago, straight from university when you still thought you could make it big in New York. Well, safe to say that you didn’t make it, and while you remained hopeful, you had bigger problems than becoming a renown painter, like not starving to death and other fun stuff like that.

You were awfully scared to go to Tony, he had a reputation of being kind of an ass, but people also said that, compared to the other guys in the business, he actually had the fairest demands, and as you had no other choice, you just went to him. And because life was a bitch, you ended up going there on more occasions. Tony was kind enough always to lend even small amounts of money because you really didn’t need 100K. No, you always need like 1 or 2 thousand, and while the other loan sharks turned people like you down, Tony didn’t, and he never wanted more than like 400$ as a return, which seemed quite fair as the other guys always wanted 100% or more.

Well, Tony, it was, as you sighed looking around your room, thinking how you even got where you were. But there was no time to waste pitying yourself, and so you shot Tony a quick message, as you always did, and to no surprise, he was very quick to respond that you should come by later that afternoon.

You were just getting ready when Aidan burst through your door. He stopped mid-step, looking at you confusedly because you didn’t tell him you were going somewhere.

“Got a date or what? You never go out on Saturday afternoon, not if you can help it,” he said sceptically, looking around the room as his eyes landed on the fumbled papers on your table, and the look of realisation hit him.

“You going to Tony again? Y/N, we told you, we can help you, babe! Let us help just this once, please?” He pleaded with you even though he knew it was useless.

“C’mon, babe, you know you and Caroline are not making much either, and you’re both glad to get by another month. Tony is like an old friend by now, really. I don’t mind it that much, and it’s definitely a better option than burying you two with me under this pile of shit,” you huffed as you finished applying mascara, but you didn’t even check yourself in the mirror, really not caring that much how you looked. You went to Manhattan just to meet Tony and would go straight back, quick mission, in and out.

“You need to find a better job, Y/N,” Aidan smirked at you, and you just laughed because you both knew it was pretty much impossible, especially since you loved your day job with the only issue that it paid like shit.

“You know this is my chance to be close to art and I really want it. I mean, it could happen that they promote me from being a receptionist to like, I dunno, being a secretary to one of the curators of the gallery, right?”

He just huffed and kissed the top of your head, striding towards the door. It was only then that you noticed he was dressed to go out as well.

“And where are you going, mister?” You asked with a mother-like tone, and he just laughed, turning around as if he was caught in the act.

“So, you remember John?” He asked, sitting on your bed, and you actually laughed out loud at him.

“Which one? I mean, there has been so many Johns and Peters that I swear to God I’m starting to think there are only men called John and Peter in the whole fucking New York. So, more info, babe, please,” you scooted to him and listened to which John it actually was he was meeting and was pretty excited about this. This was John the Ballet dancer, and he looked really nice, so far.

John the Fake Mobster was a lying bastard, John the Hairdresser wanted Aidan for just that one thing but would never admit it, and then you didn’t even have John-the for the guys because they were all just idiots who didn’t see your best friend for what he was: an amazing, although a little extra person with a very good heart, great sense of humour and amazing hair.

“Alright, well, you know the drill. Keep your phone on data so we can use Find your Friend if needed, keep your eyes open for anything sketchy going on, but, most importantly, enjoy yourself, babe. I’ll see you tonight,” you hugged him tightly and walked out of the apartment and into the busy streets.

If it were all up to you, you’d live in a secluded place, somewhere in the north probably, like outside Seattle, where you’d have a lovely little house, maybe by a river or by the ocean or something, where you’d have enough inspiration for your art and where you wouldn’t be annoyed by the little things, like the car horns blaring all the way to the night, people shouting underneath your bedroom’s window, and little things like that.

But life was not a factory for fulfilled wishes, and you had to endure another day trying to make it in New York. You thought about all of this as you walked down the street to where you knew you could find Tony. You weren’t happy that you had to go to him, again, but you also knew that you didn’t need to worry anymore. You would have the money for your landlord by the end of the week, and when the gallery paid you, you would pay Tony back. Again.

“If it isn’t my favourite girl!” You heard a familiar voice hollering from the shop, and you laughed lightly as you walked into the pawnshop Tony had set up in the lower Manhattan.

“Hello to you too, Tony. Today a yellow day, or what?” You greeted him as you looked at his outfit, which was just a canary yellow tracksuit and a matching hat. He looked like a character from a bad movie, but you knew better than to say anything like that.

“Yellow is very classy and trendy, thank you very much! Yesterday I wore this really nice green velvet tracksuit, and you should have seen some ladies walking by, they almost ate me with their eyes! I swear!” He added as he saw you stifling a laugh, but you just nodded in fake understanding, and both of you shared a relaxed laugh.

“So, what can I do for you today, sweetheart?” He drawled, and you shuffled on the spot, always feeling slightly uncomfortable when it came to this part.

“I need a thousand this week. Ton. I’ve been working my ass off, but the bills keep building up, and every time I think I’m out of it and I can live normally, there is always something holding me back,” you sighed, scratching your arms which was a nervous habit of yours that Tony grew quite fond of.

He was almost sorry for saying the next thing, but this was way above his pay grade, and while he really did take some liking to you, and he would always give you enough time to pay him off, he knew who he couldn’t piss off.

“Listen, Y/N, I have a proposal for you,” Tony started, and you frowned, not really knowing where this was going, but from the look on Tony’s face, you could tell it was nothing good.

“There is somebody who would like to get to know you, and he has a proposal for you that he believes you can’t refuse. I don’t know any specifics, I just know he is willing to pay you a lot of money, and I’m talking thousands and thousands, Y/N. He said that nothing sexual would be involved because I told him that if he was looking for a one night stand, you weren’t his girl, but he assured me that this wasn’t it. He would like to meet with you and tell you all the details if you let him. And before you say no, Y/N, think about it. All you gotta do now is to meet him and listen to him, and he is one of those guys who don’t take no for an answer,” Tony finished, and while you saw it pained him to give you the message, you were too stunned to care.

“What the hell are you talking about, Tony? Is this some kind of a sick joke? Like, did this guy tell you he wanted to talk to me specifically or just a girl desperate enough to come here?” You blurted, still not getting what he was about.

“He asked for you, sweetie. I don’t know how, but he knew you’d come and told me when you did to give you the message and give you his address. Which is here,” he said, handing you a piece of paper with an address and a date with the time written on it, “and he told me that if you came and agreed to his plan, you wouldn’t have to worry about money this week or any other week. It could be your chance, Y/N. Look, the guy is extremely powerful, so, please, just go and meet him, and you’ll see, ok?” He was scared, and it made you scoff out loud.

Great, so a loan shark was giving you a message to meet some mysterious, powerful asshole who wouldn’t take no for an answer and who probably stalked you as he knew you would be coming to Tony sooner or later. Just great, really.

“It seems I don’t really have a choice, do I? Sheesh, Tony, at least tell me who this guy is and like how scared I should be. You gotta give me something because I can’t just go to some random house and be totally ok with it. Nobody can’t expect me to do so,” you pointed out, and Tony nodded in understanding.

“Totally, yeah. I even asked if I should come with you, but I was told you should be alone. You should be alert, let’s put it that way. If I were you, I’d really think before I speak, because this guy doesn’t take anything lightly. And I think it would be best if you didn’t know his name, Y/N. Just… he doesn’t want to hurt you, all he wants to do is speak to you, so please, just do it,” Tony finished just as some customer came into the shop.

You waited patiently because the conversation was far from over, but you knew better than to start shit in front of some stranger. Tony was evidently scared shitless of the guy, and it only fuelled your already growing anxiety. Tony was determined not to share too much information with you, but you didn’t understand why. Why could you not at least know the guy’s name? Who could it be?

Your brain took a detour to a few nights ago back at the pub where you saw the men asking about you, and a cold sweat broke on your skin. It must have been connected, there was no doubt in your mind about that, and it filled you with so much dread you actually had to catch your right hand with your left to stop yourself from shaking violently.

The doorbell rang signalling the customer left, and your eyes gazed at Tony, who was already staring at you apologetically.

“And what about the money, Tony? It’s Saturday, and I need to pay my rent by Friday next week. Nice of the guy, whoever the fuck he is, that he wants to see me, but he won’t if I’m on a fucking street next weekend,” you seethed, and Tony was quick to walk around the counter behind which he was standing this whole time and walked closer to you.

“He wants to see you on Wednesday, Y/N, and he specifically told me not to lend you any money, that he would take care of it. Whatever the fuck it means.”

“The fuck? I don’t even know his fucking name, and he will stop me from getting money to survive? What the actual hell, Tony? You can’t be serious right now,” you cried out in utter desperation because none of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to come, chat a little with the goatee man, get the money and walk back home, where you’d watch some stupid TV show and drink shitty wine.

But no, of all the people living in New York this shit must be happening to you. As you didn’t have enough on your fucking plate as was, some mysterious fucker had to be interested in you for whatever reason, and he wouldn’t let you live without talking to him first.

“Can’t you just call him and tell him that I want to have nothing to do with him?” You asked when you felt calm enough to talk again. You didn’t even know whether you were scared or desperate or angry, but at best, you were feeling a mix of all these and some more, that was for sure.

“No can do, sweetie, but I promise it will be alright, ok? You’re a strong one, I know that and whatever he wants from you, you can either give or can talk to him,” Tony smiled sweetly, and while you knew he was full of bullshit you let it slide because you just didn’t have it in you to fight with him when he was clearly just the messenger. Whoever wanted to speak to you, however, he would hear it from you because where were we that a guy just asks for a girl and the whole of New York delivers her to him on a silver platter?

Wednesday

“You gotta be kidding me, Y/N. Are you seriously considering going there? For all you know it might be some elaborate trap and somebody’s gonna jump you and kill you in some dark alley,” Caroline screeched at you as she saw you getting ready after you came home from work.

You had to ask for a night off from the pub since mister nobody wanted to meet you on your night of work. But you knew you couldn’t say no. Whoever it was, Tony was afraid of him, and Tony was a tough guy. And not that you wouldn’t be brave, but your bravery was mostly concentrated on being able to throw a spider out of the apartment or walk the corridor with the lights out, not really crossing some powerful guy who could do God-knows-what to you if you didn’t come.

“C’mon, guys. You know I gotta do it. And I honestly think if they wanted to kill me, they would have already done it,” you muttered, trying to pick something to wear, that wasn’t too revealing, but you also didn’t want to go wherever you were going in a pair of baggy sweatpants you were currently rocking.

“But like, what if they want to make a personal slave out of you, huh? Like, cuff you to a ceiling and serve them with your body, like a personal kind of slave, you know what I mean? You were not made to be strapped to a ceiling, babe,” Aidan panicked, and you actually had to laugh.

“Your imagination never ceases to astonish me, Aid. Or are you speaking from personal experience?” You smirked as both you and Caroline laughed out loud at Aidan’s expression of utter disgust.

“You two are disgusting, and I hate you, but that doesn’t change the fact you still don’t know where the fuck you’re going,” Aidan countered and you rolled your eyes at him.

“I’ll keep my data on so you can see me this whole time, and if I don’t call you by 9 PM you can send the cops there, deal?”

They both nodded in agreement, knowing this was the best they were getting. You were glad you had them in your life and that you had people caring enough to try and stop you from doing something stupid, but something in your told you that your life would be even worse if you didn’t go. At least this way you’d know the whole story, and you would be able to make an educated decision based on all the variables.

“A’ight, but if anything sketchy happens, you run, ok? We can figure out the money, but we can’t figure out shit if you’re not here with us,” Caroline reminded you, and you nodded solemnly.

God, you just hoped you weren’t making a mistake by listening to Tony. He even shot you a message in the afternoon, reminding you to go there because if you didn’t, it could end up badly for both of you. And it was actually one of the decisive arguments in the whole thing, surprisingly. You didn’t want anything happening to Tony, especially not because of you and your decisions, and so you just told yourself to suck it and prepared for the evening.

You really couldn’t afford the cab, so you had to leave super early to be at the given address at precisely 7 PM. You also grabbed the book you were currently reading, Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140, so that the ride to Manhattan wouldn’t be as dull and dreadful. You could think of the utopian future he depicts rather than thinking of your journey to the lion’s den, and that was the most promising image you created in your head about the place where you were headed.

Not that you didn’t try to find the place on Google maps, but all the buildings on the address looked the same, and, actually, quite nice, so you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

Meanwhile, Tony texted you again since you didn’t reply to his previous text, and this time you took the time to craft a message telling him that yes, you were indeed headed to the manor and he didn’t need to worry about his own neck because you wouldn’t let others be hurt because of your incompetence or your cowardice.

You knew you were getting off on Chambers St station and you actually took the time to think how many people living in Tribeca had to take the subway. The answer was, very obviously, zero, as the majority of the people in the subway were either passing or were clothed in a way you knew they worked in either one of the restaurants there or as a help. And you felt like one of them, because you too didn’t live in the wealthiest village in New York, and you too were going there mainly for business. Well, at least you hope you did.

Checking every house number when you got to the street you were supposed to meet the mysterious guy at, you tried to find where exactly was the bat cave, and when you saw the number 112, you knew you found it.

Your breath came in ragged huffs as you tried to gather the last remnants of your bravery as you walked up the stairs and buzzed on the door. Your head was spinning lightly, and you actually had to lean against the wall beside you to regain your composure.

The door soon revealed a massive man dressed in a black turtleneck and a pair of black jeans, and you were actually quite surprised not to see him with sunglasses and an earpiece. If the situation weren’t so tense, you’d probably joke about it, but as it was, you just followed his lead as he beckoned you inside.

“Miss Y/L/N, I presume? I need to see your phone and your belongings, ma’am,” he stated, and you raised a brow at him.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a standard procedure, ma’am. Everybody here to see the boss needs to be checked, just in case,” he stated, leaving no room for discussion, and while you sighed exasperatedly, you still handed him your bag and made a point by fishing out the phone and shoving it in his outstretched hand. He took a quick look through your belongings, pushing it against what you assumed was some kind of a metal detector before he pulled out another device. This looked like a big phone, and he scanned your bag once again.

“What is that?” You asked, unable to stop your curiosity.

“Checking if you’re not bugged,” he answered matter-of-factly as he continued before he put the device down, clearly not finding anything. Where would you even get a bug, and why would you do it? You rolled your eyes inwardly but kept a straight face in front of the man, just in case he was watching. Which he was, as you found out by him waving in front of your face and showing you to follow him.

You braced yourself for whatever was awaiting upstairs and obediently walked behind him.

As you walked through the house, you got the impression that whoever lived there was wealthy, but that kind that didn’t really put on a flashy show. There were no chandeliers, no heavy curtains and stuff you pretty much imagined this place would look like and that image had nothing to do with the Beast and the Beauty dance room, nothing at all.

But this was… modest. Everything was very contemporary, some prominent brick here and there with mostly grey floors and the furniture was most definitely customary but, again, it was plain yet luxurious. You assumed that’s how the really rich people lived. They knew they had the money, and the people around them knew it as well, so there was no need for diamond stairs and a golden toilet.

A few names surged from memory as you heard your coworkers discuss the wealthy New Yorkers, but you didn’t want to assume anything before you actually saw the person, so you just walked by the halls before the man stopped in front one of the rooms and quietly knocked.

It was not surprising when another man dressed exactly like the guy leading you appeared from the room and took a quick look at you before he said something to whoever was behind him. When the affirmative came that you could indeed go in there, they shoved the door open and what you assumed was a living room appeared in front of you. It corresponded with the whole house, but your attention was caught by one specific thing. Your brain had its own world, and when you saw one of Tunji Adeniyi-Jones’s paintings from his last year’s exhibit, you almost fainted. He was your favourite contemporary artist. And seeing his work outside of the gallery was practically an otherworldly feeling. You gaped at the beautiful play of colours, and your heart swooned at the perfection of the brush strokes.

“Ehm,” you heard somebody cough beside you, and it startled you so much you actually jumped to the side, your hand flying to your chest in a feeble attempt to will your heart to stay calm.

You took the intruder in and found out that unlike every other man in the room (and there were a few, as you noticed) this guy wasn’t wearing all-black attire. He was in a comfortable-looking creme sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans, everything fitting him as if the clothes were sawn to his body.

Which, as far as you could tell, was the body of a Greek God.

“See something you like, honey?” The man interrupted thoughts, and it just crossed your mind that he was really rude, not letting you breathe even for a second before he had to make his presence known.

“Yes, actually. I’m quite a big fan of the artist whose painting you have there, so I admired that. And you are?” You trailed at the end, signalling that while he was very handsome, you had no idea who he was and why it was that you needed to come to him this evening.

“Straight to business, huh? I like that. I’m quite surprised Tony didn’t tell you who I was. Was he scared you wouldn’t have come if you knew?” He didn’t wait for your answer, however. “Well, honey, I’m Steve Rogers, and I am very pleased to meet you,” he smirked at your stomach dropped.

Steve Rogers? That Steve Rogers? It wasn’t possible.

“You gotta be kidding me,” you muttered as you scratched your arms nervously.

“Oh no, on the contrary. I’m all too real, Miss Y/L/N, and from the looks of it, I’m glad Tony didn’t tell you, you look like you might faint. Are you feeling alright?” He asked like the smug asshole he was, and you just turned away from him, taking a deep breath before you finally turned back around to face him with a pokerface.

“I’m alright, thank you. So now, can I know what it is you want from me so much you stalked me and made me come here, pretty much by force?”

He scoffed but showed you to follow him to the sofa. When you didn’t budge, he simply took you by your elbow and pretty much shoved you down to the plump sofa.

“Force, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I simply asked you to come visit me, is it so wrong? But yes, you are right, we should talk about why I invited you here. You see, Y/N, I’m in need of a wife, and after long calculations, I came to the conclusion you would be perfect for the job,” he said straightforwardly, and it was now that you felt like you’d faint.

“Marry me? Are you fucking insane?” You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Form the pissed off expression on his face, you could see it was not the right move, but he couldn’t expect any other reaction, really.

“Easy, honey or I might have to use the said force to shut that smart mouth of yours,” Steve mumbled dangerously, and you swallowed harshly.

“Right, you’re a notorious mobster, and I’m literally nobody, and if you killed me, nobody would miss me. Good, now that’s out of the table, why do you want to marry me? And what does it mean you are in need of a wife? I mean… you are notorious for dating a different girl every week, can’t you just marry one of them if you’re in such a great hurry?”

“No, honey, I can’t. All you need to know right now is my proposal. So, here it is. You will marry me, we will stay married for a year and then get a divorce. You will have everything every girl ever wanted: loads of clothes, all the time in the world to do whatever the fuck you want, you won’t have to work, and I will pay for everything and more. You will live here so you won’t have to worry about your rent money, and I will also pay your student loan, on top of which you will be paid 20.000$ every month for playing your role. And when the year is over, you will walk away rich, without any debts slowing you down and you will be able to do anything you want. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like it’s not a proposal but a directive,” you smiled sweetly and stood up, pacing the room and scratching your hands like crazy. This was not happening, no, no, no!

You needed the money, you really did, and getting rid of the debt from your student loan that would have been sweet too, but at what price? On the other hand, you thought, how bad could it be to just be somebody’s wife for a year? He did make it sound pretty easy.

“What would be expected of me?”

“Well, you would go with me to every event and pretty much listen to everything I say,” he shrugged as if it was the most natural thing to say to another human being.

“Like, you’d ask me to spread my legs for you here, and I would do it?” You asked, suddenly very angry that the man just assumed what kind of a person you were. You were desperate, but not that desperate.

“Oh, no, honey. That is one of the reasons why I chose you: I’m not attracted to you, so no, I wouldn’t ask you for any sexual favours. We could even put that to our contract if you’d feel better, but, really, you have nothing to worry from me,” he again said with ease, and you didn’t know if you were glad he just told you this or really pissed and ashamed.

Not that you thought you were some kind of a beauty, far from it, but he also didn’t have to be so upfront about it. And now you understood it even less why the hell he chose you.

“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction.

“Honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing.

“Then why choosing me if you don’t find me attractive? Not that it’s an issue, I’m just really trying to understand the situation here,” you said, totally ignoring the threat in his voice as you needed some much valuable answers.

“Right, well, first of all, as I already mentioned, what I want, I get, honey, and you should always remember that. Secondly, it was your ability to keep a straight face, even though I can see the ability is not endless. I need somebody who will be sickly sweet to both my friends and enemies alike, who won’t mind a few sleazy comments from the old fuckers, and who will look like an obedient wife. I need somebody who will blend in and who will look trustworthy, and not like she was to stay only for a week. And when I saw you in that pub where you used to work, I could see you had what it took to be in this life, even if only for a year,” he finished, and you were glad you were right at least about the guy, Steve, also sending the people to sniff around your workplace. But then it hit you.

“Where I used to work? I still work there,” you said dumbfounded, and Steve chuckled humorously.

“Oh no, you don’t. You see, I need my wife free all the time and I need her here with me. Look, Y/N, this is getting tiring, and I really need an answer now. What is it gonna be, huh?”

“Like I even have a choice. You just said you would use force if I said no, so, what am I supposed to say, huh? I don’t want to get married, but I don’t have any money and your snoopy ass is getting in the way of my life, and you ended one of my jobs, and before you say you terminated my contract in the gallery, please think about it again. That job is very important to me, it has always been my dream to be in a gallery surrounded by beautiful art, and, by chance, having my art there as well.

I don’t know Steve, your offer is very generous, it really is, but I don’t think I’m the right one,” you sighed finally and looked around the room, ignoring the boring looks from Steve. Then you saw the clock and you almost panicked, it was two minutes before 9.

“Oh my God, I need to call my friends, or they’re gonna call the cops,” you said quickly already dialling Caroline’s number. You told her you were fine and that no, you weren’t a personal slave yet, but that you’d tell them everything when you got home. When the call ended, the venom was back in Steve’s eyes.

“If you think you can talk to people about anything I have just said, you are terribly wrong, doll,” he seethed, and you were taken aback, but you didn’t want him to think he intimidated you.

“Well, if you think I’m not gonna tell my family about this, then it’s you who is terribly wrong, Steve. We tell each other everything, and if I considered this proposal of yours, it would mean Aidan and Caroline would know about this, at least that I’m marrying you for more than my undying love for you,” you spat back, and Steve saw the determination in your eyes. He knew he had to compromise with you, even if only a little bit.

He already found out everything about you, he knew your whole life, your past, everything his people could find on the internet. And what he got from the search was that you and the people you lived with were extremely close. He considered getting rid of them but realised it would only push you away from what he needed from you. And he needed a wife ASAP.

The mafia was still very conservative, and as he was the only boss without a constant woman by his side, he was sometimes excluded from important meetings that happened on “family retreats.” And he needed all the info there was if he wanted to be the best of the best. Or, the worst of the worst, if we were being literal.

“Fine, but they will need to sign a contract saying that they will keep their mouths shut,” Steve smiled back, and you nodded, your head already spinning.

Were you really considering it? But was there any other option? You needed the money, and it would’ve be great if you didn’t have to care about your student loan for the rest of your life. You would see the world, just like you wanted, you would have time for your art, and you would be free after only a year. That didn’t sound that bad. Sure, you’d be affiliated with a known mafia boss, but that was nothing you couldn’t handle. But there was still a question Steve didn’t answer.

“What about my job at the gallery? If you made them fire me and I’m gonna find out tomorrow, I can’t even begin to consider this. I want that job, I want to work at that gallery, Steve.”

“Fucking hell, I could buy you the gallery if you agreed!” He shouted, exasperated that it was taking so long. He really didn’t get it. He was proposing a life in luxury, and he knew that the majority of women in New York would be more than happy to be seen by his side. But you? You had to be difficult and even demand stuff. Fucking hell…

“But whatever, you wanna work there, fine. Whatever, I don’t give a fuck. Do we have a deal or not? I have better things to do with my evening than just bargain with you, honey,” he accentuated the pet name that you already hated.

Well, this wasn’t how you imagined your proposal to go. Not that you were too keen on the whole idea of a marriage, but still, a girl could dream. Yet, here you were, actually considering getting tied up with a mobster for a year just because he offered you enough money and a life that you felt like could be interesting, if only for a year and with a man who blatantly told you he wasn’t interested in you in that way. This was the only reason you didn’t feel as dirty as you expected because you knew he would never touch you and never want you to do something sexual against your will.

You were used to lying through your teeth ever since you were little, your parents made sure you knew how important it was to keep your secret, and dangerous life wasn’t something you only heard of on TV. All this made the decision slightly easier, as you finally made up your mind.

“Fine, but we still have a lot to talk about, Mr Rogers,” you set your jaw and outstretched your hand to shake on it with him.

“Whatever, Mrs Rogers. Consider your rent paid and I’ll see you on Friday when we discuss our matter in greater detail. Now, if you excuse me,” he kissed the top of your hand and walked away.

Well, this would be fun, you told yourself as you watched the man you would soon call your husband walk away from you, and contemplated whether you made the right choice. But your life wasn’t great as was, as much as you tried to fill it with laughter and happiness, and, in a sense, Steve offered you an out, even if only for a little bit.

Here was to nothing, you hollered at yourself in your mind and followed one of the turtleneck-guys out of the manor and into the chilly air of evening New York.

/ Next Chapter >

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470 notes · View notes

cherryyharryy · 3 years

Note

angst to fluff where y/n finds out she was originally just supposed to be a rebound type thing after he broke up with someone like idk something like he broke up with someone on the european leg of tour and she was supposed just be with him until he went on another leg but then he started to love her and brings her on the rest of tour with him and she finds out abt the rebound thing after the last show of tour where everyones drunk and celebrating and one person lets it slip

I tweaked it just a bit...hope that's ok:)

WC: 3.5K

****

“You look beautiful.”

I skim my nose across Harry’s cheek, his chin resting on my shoulder, and hum against stubble that wasn’t there this morning. “You’ve said that five times tonight.”

“And?” He slips around to face me.

His suit is a deep maroon, probably black if you’re far away, probably purple if you’ve had too much champagne. His chest expands when I slide my hand down.

“Love this dress.” He takes my hand off and pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my head.

“You two forget where you’re at?” Another foreign voice surrounds us, well, foreign to me.

“Fucker,” Harry says to the man. They pat each other’s backs as the guy walks away. “Tyler Johnson.”

“Oh.”

“He worked with me on the last album.”

“Okay.”

It’s like the fifteenth person that I’ve been introduced to tonight, all of whom pass by with quick hellos, inside jokes with Harry, and little interest in me. The fast paced world of the rich and famous doesn’t slow down, even for charity.

“Harry, so glad you could make it.” Another voice, another man. This one lingers, long enough to receive my name, and offer a cliche compliment about my patience to put up with this beautiful bastard on my arm.

I thank him with the smile I’ve learned to speak through. These celebrities never stop smiling. Never stop posing. Never stop.

Then he’s gone too, and Harry’s whispering yet another name in my ear, of which I’ll forget seconds later because these people ultimately mean nothing to me. They all seem to pass through each other’s lives whenever convenience allows, playing house and acting like grown ups who get the privilege of not truly growing up.

I feel like the Gucci dress Harry had tailored to my body doesn’t fit. My posture sucks. I’m too scared to eat any of the finger foods being carried on silver platters through the hall. I haven’t learned how to smile through food I don’t like or not make a mess or take small enough bites. I swear, not one glass of champagne has any lipstick on it. They’re like magic.

I look at Harry. He’s stepped away to converse with a face that I do know. He and Jeff speak animatedly, Harry’s arms gesturing to whatever story he’s telling. I step over to one of the dressed tables and place what little weight I can onto the chair, needing to cling to something. When I look back up I smile, the two of them now laughing, and probably a little too loud for this charity auction.

“Y/n...right?”

I whip around, a man I’ve seen in pictures on Harry’s phone holds out his hand.

I straighten my back and accept his greeting. “Yes.”

“Finally we meet!” He catches my confusion and chuckles. “I produced Harry’s last album.”

Something clicks in my head, and he’s suddenly more familiar. “Oh! I knew that.”

Tom Hull...Kid Harpoon I process just as he introduces his name.

“I—”

An arm slipping around my waist stunts my question, Harry tipping back a red drink with his free hand while the other squeezes my hip. “Just tell this one to leave you alone,” he jabs.

Tom rolls his eyes, patting the breast of his green suit to look for something, only to show off his middle finger.

“Can’t believe the two of you haven’t met,” Harry says.

“I know, I guess we just missed each other.” Tom nods to me. “Heard you went to quite a few shows.”

“As many as I could.”

An uneasy sting travels down my spine. I did go to many shows, practically following Harry around his entire tour...all on his dime. Lord knows the man can afford it, but I still felt weird about him dishing out thousands of dollars to add me to each plane ride.

“Well I’m happy to see you two kids together,” Tom jokes, patting Harry on his back. “I’ve told him he needs to date women who will fuck him up. That’s where the songs are.”

He saunters off like he did not just say that. No. Absolutely not.

My face burns and it hurts to turn my head, but I still manage to narrow my eyes at Harry.

“Do you want another drink?”

I wait. I give him more than enough seconds to explain what the hell that was. But he’s clueless—ignorant.

“No. I do not.”

***

I do not bother taking my heels off in the car. My plan is to storm into our hotel room the second we park. Possibly locking Harry out...haven’t decided on that part yet.

The vague chit chat he makes with the driver stirs my nerves. It shouldn’t make me angry, and it’s not so much the act as it is his demeanor. He’s too cheery right now and it’s pissing me off.

“Okay,” he grabs my attention from Los Angeles flying past my window, the partition rolling up to leave us completely alone in the back seat. “What’s wrong?”

I bite my tongue, literally. “Nothing.”

“You seemed...irritated.”

“Did I?”

“Y/n.”

I turn to face him, inhaling sharply to calm my coming words. “Why are you with me?”

His face pales, and not a muscle moves. He just stares at me until he finally blinks and starts jerking his jaw around. “What are you talkin’ about?”

I roll my eyes. “The fact that you don’t know, bothers me even more.” I sigh, fighting back tears because I am determined not to cry in front of him. “Tom said that you should date people that fuck you up.”

“O—oh. That’s all?”

I squint, curling my lip. “What do you mean, that’s all? Is that not enough for you? Because that was a lot for me to hear tonight.”

“Baby, he was just messing around.”

I don’t budge.

“Really, it’s nothin’ to think about.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, trailing his hand down to cup my jaw. “Promise. It’s just like when people told you that you could do better than me, or insult me to compliment you.” He shrugs. “It’s just party talk.”

I process his words, supposing he’s not wrong. He did receive quite a few insults in lieu of my praise tonight. Maybe I was just on edge because of the setting; being surrounded by the rich and famous while I struggle to pay my rent each month isn’t exactly grounds for positive thinking.

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” He leans over to kiss me, stroking my face as his lips skim over mine. “Did I tell you how stunning you look tonight?”

***

It’s funny how your brain works. How emotions swoop in and corral your thoughts, like a salesman who pretends to care about you so they can get what they want. My mind was desperate for relief, from hearing Tom’s nervy comment, and I naively allowed Harry to take what he needed in that moment.

Something’s not quite right. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it.

I’ve been mulling over Harry’s words in my head all weekend, playing them on repeat, hoping they’ll start to make sense, but if anything their value keeps dropping. What worries me the most, is that I don’t know whether he’s trying to protect me or himself. I don’t know if one is any better than the other.

It’s golden hour when we pull up to the beach. I can hear the music before I even open the car door; a volleyball shoots up over the rows of bushes hiding the party, disappearing and popping back up a moment later.

I don’t really want to be here, but I also don’t want to be the girlfriend who won’t support their boyfriend.

“Ready?” Harry asks, and I nod.

The closer we walk, the clearer the music becomes. Harry’s voice takes over the private beach, and I wonder if they’re playing his entire album or just Golden on repeat.

A good bit of the people drinking and chatting I recognize form the event the other night, but there are still plenty of new faces. I take some fruity drink that was offered to me and down half of it before my feet hit sand.

And so the routine continues. I’m introduced to someone, they compliment me, laugh with Harry, congratulate him on pretty much everything he’s ever done, and then repeat with a new face. I do manage to find Sarah at one point after I’ve detached myself from Harry, and the two of us head for the water.

“Are you feeling okay?” Sarah asks once our toes are wet.

I hold my breath and count to five, finishing whatever the hell I’m drinking before I can answer her. “I’m great.”

“Harry said you weren’t doing too well after the auction?”

“Yes, Harry does a lot of talking with people when I’m not around.”

“Alright, spill it,” Sarah says.

I trace the rim of my glass, flicking my eyes over my shoulder to make sure we’re far away from the party. “It’s stupid, really, I’m just a little...I don’t know...Tom said something the other night that rubbed me the wrong way. And Harry doesn’t seem to care.”

“What did he say?”

“Just something about how Harry needs to have relationships with people who will fuck him up.”

“Ooh,” she nods, seemingly well versed in the statement. “Yeah that’s an Iggy Pop quote. Tom mentioned it in Rolling Stone when he was interviewed.” She sips her drink, eyes growing small over the rim. “It was just a cheap line of advice he gave Harry after he was torn up after his last breakup.”

“Wait, so he actually did say that before? Like before the other night?”

Sarah drifts her eyes up in thought, nodding. “Um hm. After him and Camille broke things off.” She shrugs, and gestures to the party exploding on the beach behind us. “Fine Line.”

I have no idea what I’m feeling. No clue what is coursing through my veins, but it’s not blood anymore. The corners of my jaw tingle until my face starts going numb, my breathing shallow and chest tight.

“You okay?”

“I uh, I gotta go.”

Sarah calls after me but I let my name die in the breeze as I march back to the crowd. It’s nearly dark now, and finding Harry among all his people will take forever. I try to look for him, but I’m so distraught I can’t concentrate long enough to make out faces. I give up and head back to his car, only to find it’s locked. The asphalt is warm on my legs as I lower down to the ground, careless to the dirt I’m getting on my clothes and the scratches on my skin.

I’m not in this position for long. Not long enough, at least. Harry rounds the corner of the bushes, speeding up when he sees me.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

He moves to sit down beside me, but I jump up before he can.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

“Whoa! What!? What’s gotten into you lately?”

“I told you! What Tom said the other night!” I’m yelling, too loud for public, I know. But a small part of me wants someone to hear. I want to disrupt the bubble Harry lives in.

“And I told you that it was just nonsense.”

“And that’s why you’re a liar! Sarah just told me, that he said that to you after you and Camille broke up.”

“Okay...and?”

I inhale as deep as I can. It makes me dizzy, adds to my headache. “And, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? With the knowledge that the only reason you’re even with me, is because I’m gonna fuck you up so bad you’ll get songs out of it?

“Y/n,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “you’re taking this waaay too literally. Trust me.”

“You’re not in a position right now where I even want to trust you.”

“This has gotten completely out of control. I cannot believe you’re this upset over something so stupid.”

“Right there, Harry!” I point at him. “You keep dismissing how I feel! You don’t even care that this upsets me! That I feel like I need to reevaluate our entire relationship!”

“What is there to evaluate!? I haven’t even done anything! You’re blowing up about something that someone else said!”

“But you listened to him!”

“What,” he shrugs, “what do you want?”

“I don’t know what I want, Harry. I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” He pauses, swallowing. “Us?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, us. I can’t be with you if—if you’re just waiting around for me to ruin you emotionally.”

“You’re seriously gonna let someone else’s words do this to us? You’d break up with me because of something another person said?”

“Harry, if I break up with you it’s gonna be because of what you’ve done. I don’t care that he said it, I care that you agree to it. And quite frankly, it’s pretty insulting to Camille. You spent a part of your life with that girl, and you just capitalize off of it. I’m not gonna let you do that to me.”

“I’m not capitalizing off of anyone! What the hell am I supposed to write my songs about? I’m just supposed to not date then?”

“It’s the fact that you sought out a relationship in order to fuel your writing.”

“No, y/n, that’s not what I did.” He narrows his eyes at me, and even in the dark I can see his anger. “I sought you out because I was devastated after me and her broke up. You were only supposed to be a rebound.”

I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of me. The music overhead blurs into noise scraping my eardrum, my vision grows weak and foggy. He wanted to hurt me, and he did.

“I expect a thank you when you release your next album.” I spin on my heel and head towards the main road, yanking my phone from my pocket to call an uber. For the second time tonight, my name trails behind me in the wind. I can hear Harry’s steps pick up, and as fast as I walk, he still catches me.

“Y/n, please, let’s go back to the hotel. You can hate me and not talk to me, but please don’t leave.”

I ignore him, trying to set up my ride. “Where the hell are we?”

He glances at my phone, and I can tell he considers keeping the answer to himself, so he can keep me to himself. He drops his voice, much weaker than before. “Carbon Beach. Canyon road.”

Ten minutes.

“Y/n—”

“I am not interested in discussing this with you.”

“I’m so sorry. I—I was mad and was just trying to win the argument. Whichever way I could.”

“Congratulations on your win.”

“Y/n, please, honey. I don’t want to lose you.” He drags his hands down his face, keeping his palms dug into his eyes. When he lets them drop, there are tears spilling down his cheeks. “I can’t lie and say you weren’t, but yes you were a rebound for me, but that went away. Literally weeks after we started dating. I care about you so much. I wouldn’t drag you to every show and event I have if I didn’t. I’m so proud to call you mine. The last thing you are to me is—is just grounds for my writing.”

I stare out across the road. A jeep speeds by and the gush of wind it brings sends chills down my arms.

“Harry, I just...it’s a lot. You’re a lot. Your life is a lot.” I sigh and slowly turn to face him. “It feels like the significance of us being in each other’s lives are so different.”

He kicks a rock across the road, dust flying up around us. “Fuck. Y/n I’m begging—”

“They’re here.” I nod to the headlights approaching us.

“Baby, please.”

“I think I need to be alone right now.” I get in the backseat. “Enjoy your party.”

***

I text him when I’m back at the hotel, having nowhere else to go. I didn’t think my plan of leaving through, because he’ll come back here before the night’s over. But I’m hoping he’ll stay away for a bit, long enough for me to process everything at least.

Deep down I know there’s not as much to the comment as I thought. And Harry’s not that type of guy. But the lack of concern over my feelings...the fact that I was just used as a warm body while he got over Camille...that’s what hurts the most.

There’s a fine line between being sorry because you’ve been called out, and truly being sorry. How sorry can he be when he got what he wanted? Even if I’m not what he envisioned past a few quick fucks, he still comes out on top happy.

I feel like the lifestyle these people live is embedded with secret codes, all of which I’m not wired to pick up on. The money, the mistakes, the adoration... Everything is a lot, and playing catch up is nearly impossible.

I don’t get the alone time I’d wished for. There are curses and clicks of the doorknob right before Harry comes in. He stands at the entrance, staring at me on the lounge chair like he’s unsure if I’m real.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come back here.”

“Where else can I go?” I nod to his phone in his hand. “I texted you.”

“I was driving.”

I sigh, flinching when he turns the lights on. “I know you wanna talk, but I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, dropping his keys on a table to come sit beside me. “I’ll talk though.” He inhales, holding his breath for a second before forcing the air out. “I know that me saying I’m sorry means shit to you right now. And to be honest, it probably is coming from me...in a way. You’re right about everything. And whatever you’re feeling, once you figure that out, you’re valid about that too.”

“How would you feel if you were only meant to be temporary in my life? You never mentioned why you were interested in me in the beginning. And no, I never would have gone out with you had I known. I would never want to be someone’s rebound. There’s just something sneaky about that.”

His head drops into his hands, and his shoulders shake right before I hear him cry. “I know, I—I get so caught up in myself sometimes. I’m such a fucking prick.” When he looks up, his eyes are burnt red, glassy and defeated. “I don’t deserve you, and I really don’t deserve anyone.”

“Harry,” I chastise, not expecting the downward spiral he’s ventured onto.

“I swear I care about you. I want you to be happy, and I want to make you happy. I don’t want to be the one to treat you this way. Ever.”

I inhale as deep as I can, holding my breath until it hurts. “I know.” I take his hand in mine. “And I know your heart, and I know you care about me. I—” I sigh, “I’m not comfortable with...just forgetting all of this though. I can forgive you, but I think we need to take a couple steps back. I’ve gotten so swept up in your life and your world, I’m losing my own.”

He nods slowly, accepting my words with a pained face.

“I care about you too.”

He looks up for the first time, catching the last few tears with the back of his hand. “I know you do.”

I offer a small smile and lean in to kiss his cheek. His eyes fall closed, and blindly he turns to press his lips to mine. Our kiss is salty and urgent.

“What did you say to everyone when you left?”

He frowns in thought, like the memory is too far away. “Nothing. Jumped in my car and prayed this is where you’d be.”

I take his hand and pull us both to our feet. “We should go to bed. It’s been a long night. Too long.”

We’re quiet and slow as we shed our clothes and brush our teeth, slipping into bed around two a.m.. Harry doesn’t waste a second in pulling me into his warm chest, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug that has me burying my face into his neck.

We lay there, silent, but when I know I don’t have much longer before sleep overcomes me, I kiss his shoulder, whispering how much I love him before I close my eyes.

#ehhhhh #idk #i think i'm ok with writing angst #but struggle with turning it into fluff #i tried tho #requests #requested #harry styles #harry styles writing #cherryyharryy #cherryyharryy writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst to fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles ou

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

Text

3:11am [captain syverson]

Summary: you’re just an army medic so in order to have your voice heard you need to go straight to the captain with your ideas, right? And what better way to do it, if not at 3:11am in his room? (SMUT) 4.3k

Warnings: daddy kink, size kink, unprotected sex, Sy is a little bit of ass, dirty talk, manhandling, a tad bit of humiliation/degradation.. :) I didn’t go too far.

Feedback makes my day! Maybe tell me what you thought? Please? :)

Danger loomed at every corner. And you couldn't have been oblivious to it. Every one was either panicked or enraged, both emotions driven by the ongoing terror forced upon your group as you have been caught in the crossfire. The conflict you found yourselves stuck in was generations old, and the fact that you had hidden eyes, watching your moves from every shadow, was as unsettling as it could be.

You crossed the camp on high alert, even if those were supposed to be safe grounds. Laughter was audible from the tents nearby, yet the fear never left your bones. Palms cold but still damp with nervous sweat, you counted the steps you had to take until you reached your destination. Ever since you left your designated bunk, you've been picturing the stairs that led down to Captain Syverson room, and now they were mere meters in front of you, but you still felt like you couldn't breathe.

Even when you reached the door, you still couldn't swallow the lump in your throat. And the fact that it was unlocked, made you all the more nervous.

You didn't want to knock. The lights were all off, and you were afraid the sound would draw unnecessary attention. So, going against your gut, you slowly pushed the door open, cautiously stepping inside.

Dead silence.

Only a pair of red glowing numbers were visible in the thick darkness, showing you just how late and unacceptable it was for you to be there. 3:11 am. Not only should you have been asleep for hours, but you were also pretty sure that if you were to be awake, the bunk was the place where you should be counting the sheep until you dozed off.

From memory, you turned to the left, picturing inside your mind where the door that led to the hallway was supposed to be. You probably managed to get about two steps in before, from the suffocating darkness to your left, a loud clattering noise was heard, before a pair of strong arms restrained you.

Only a gasp managed to escape your lips before your mouth was forced shut by a hand, aggressively making it impossible for you to make any sound. Realising kicking and squirming in this person's hold would be of absolutely no use, you raised your left leg in the air, gathering momentum for a strategic hit. But the blow was never delivered.

"Shh!!!"

Despite threatening and capable of making anybody's blood run cold, that southern accent was impossible to mistake.

"Don't fucking move" he said again.

With your brain soaked in adrenaline, obeying his command sounded near impossible. You fidgeted against his rock hard chest, and all it did for you was get him to tighten his hold.

"I don't know if your eyes got accustomed to the dark yet" captain Syverson said through gritted teeth, "But at about 2 o'clock, MacGregor is sleeping. If you wake him up, we're both dead"

You swallowed the information with difficulty, but it relaxed you to some extent. However, despite calming down and not showing any signs of wanting to put up a fight anymore, Sy didn't let you go.

Instead, with high precision, he dragged you through the darkness, and across the room, right where you were initially planning to go. Clutching the hand that was still roughly pressing down against your lips, you stumbled obediently in every direction he dragged you to. When you reached a plain black door, he opened it with maximal caution, and pushed you inside, before turning around to close it in the same silent manner.

You stumbled a few steps forward before regaining your balance as your knees have probably never been weaker. Struggling to catch your breath, you saw Sy turn and face you, the coldest of death stares plastered on his blue eyes.

"The fuck you doin' here, hm?" he growled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I-" you said, squinting in the neon light of the tiny room, "I have an idea for the crew, it's-"

"Don't fucking care what idea you got, darlin'" he shook his head, taking another step in your direction, "Do you even know what time it is?"

"Late" you sighed, stating the obvious.

"Damn right it's late" he nodded, "What I wanna know now is why you were stupid enough to sneak all the way over here, when you know-"

"No one saw me, Sy" you exclaimed.

A grin tilted the corner of his lips upwards, "I fucking saw you"

"Yeah but-" you stopped to frown as confusion hit you, "How did you see me?"

"Listen here, little girl" he taunted, each word more threatening as he started to close the distance that was keeping you apart, "You're a doctor, not a soldier, fixing our shit is none of your business. Two, you don't report to me-" he said, nodding his head to the side, "And three, I'm sure no idea was too urgent that you couldn't wait until the morning"

Calling you out like that was completely unnecessary. You had been lying to yourself, claiming the reason for your late night visit was purely selfless, however when you heard the words come out of his mouth, you realised just how strongly you had been bulshitting yourself.

"Fine-" you huffed with annoyance, getting ready to walk past him, "You want me to leave? I'll leave"

"Nuh-uh" he shook his head, grabbing you by the forearm. He didn't move any other muscle of his body and continued talking without turning to look at you, "You're a smart woman, tell me why you're really here"

"Because I wanna help!" you rolled your eyes - a lie you almost believed yourself.

"Try again, doll" he commanded, tightening his grip. The fact that you felt a bruise already forming riled you up, but it wasn't enough to get you to cooperate in the way he wanted you to.

Once you realised what he was waiting to hear, you shook your head in disbelief, "You got no class!"

After spitting the anger filled words in his direction, you tried to free your arm, and walk away, but he wasn't having it.

"Well-" Sy took a deep breath, harshly spinning you around and slamming you face first against his desk, "If you had any, you wouldn't be here now, would you?"

Knees weak under his heavy presence, you gathered all your strength into your arms, planting your palms against the metal surface of the desk in order to push yourself up.

All it took him to cancel your intentions was an effortless shove against your upper back. He got you back down in under a second with a loud thud, but this time he bent down too, towering above you.

"Now that you saw your antics don't work with me-" he growled directly into your ear, his thick beard tickling the skin of your neck. Sy lodged his hand into your hair, curling his fingers around your roots and forcing your head back, "Mind telling me why you're really here? We can do this until the morning, I ain't tired"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" you huffed through gritted teeth.

"What? Seeing you squirming under me with absolutely no say in what's about to happen to that sweet little pussy of yours? Yes, very much so"

"Fuck you"

"Isn't that why you came here?" Sy taunted.

He grunted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Try again"

This time, he didn't pull your hair anymore, and the sting you expected to reach your scalp never came. However, he bucked his hips into yours, pressing your body even harder against the desk. With every time and every way his body brushed against yours, the pain between your legs grew stronger and stronger. But still, you didn't want to word your need, instead just settled for milking every last drop of this unexpected turn of events. About 15 minutes before, when you had just left your room, you weren't sure you would even get to talk to him, let alone end up in this situation. Under him. His cock shamelessly pressing up against your ass, as every word that came out of his mouth only managed to make you crave him more.

"Are gonna tell me, hm?" he moaned into your ear, the weight of his body on top of yours becoming difficult to bear. "Or am I gonna have to force the words out of you?"

The way he talked, honey sweet yet goosebumps worthy, his tone managed to crack your self control. Against your better judgement, you breathed out slowly, the pleasure in the back of your throat materialising into the softest of whimpers.

"Oh" Sy grinned, his right hand groping its way down your body, "Can't hide it anymore, can you?"

If until now you did a fairly bad job at hiding your true emotions, when he grabbed a handful of your ass, his fingers threatening to leave purple bruises, you dropped the facade all together.

"Fuck" you moaned, forehead pressed against the desk as you arched your body back, harder against his palm.

"That's my girl" he laughed.

Much to your dismay, after his deep amused tone reached your ears, he pulled away. Upset at the sudden loss of contact, you choked back a whine, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder.

Even with the lights turned on, he was facing away from the source, so that soft shadows contoured his features perfectly. His eyes hooded with greed looked down at you, and as soon as he saw the hungry expression on your face, his lips curled into a devious smile. "No, sweetheart. Face the wall", he said, nodding his head.

Reluctantly, you did so. Delectable anticipation washed over you when his calloused hands grabbed your waist. It was only for a minute, though. He roughly pulled you back until your hips passed the edge of the desk. You didn't get a chance to put two and two together before Sy forced your pants open, and pulled them down your legs, along with your underwear in under a moment.

Flushed with embarrassment at the full, sudden exposure, you clamped your thighs together.

Without a word, he lodged his boot between your feet, forcing your legs open. "This could've been avoided" he stated, "But I don't think you wanted that. I think you wanted the slut fucked out of you"

"Come on…" you pleaded, lodging your teeth deep into your bottom lip.

Your entire body fired up when his bare fingers connected to your opening. He moved agonisingly slow, teasing his way along your lips, intentionally applying the perfect amount of pressure to have you crying for more.

"You know you're gonna have to do so much fucking better than that, don't you?" Sy chuckled, dipping his fingers into your wetness. "I know you can beg."

"Fucking hell-" you cried, squirming under his influence, "Please"

"No, baby. Tell me, use your words. I wanna hear you tell me how to fuck you. And don't bother holding back 'cause you know I won't"

"Come on, Sy-" you whined, trying your best to grind down against his fingers, "You know I want- I want you-"

A rough slap that echoed around the room attacked your ass, delightful pain propagating in waves across your whole body. You let out a tortured yelp, but it wasn't enough to impress.

"You already made a mess on my fingers. You're dripping wet, love. Why try to hide just how big of a slut you are?"

"I'm a slut-" you panted, breathing heavily through every word, "I'm a slut, please, I need you"

Another blow. This time, his palm landed on already inflamed skin, doubling the pain that fueled your pleasure.

"Need me to what, baby girl?"

"I need you to fuck me" you whimpered, tears running down your cheeks. Digging your nails into the underside of the edge of his desk, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to concentrate around the ecstasy he had running through your veins. "I need your cock, Sy, please. I fucking need you really bad right now, please. I'll do anything you want"

"All you need to do, pet, is learn your place" Syverson said, greedily caressing your ass. "Did you come here just to get that cunt used?"

"Yes" you nodded, not even remembering that in the beginning, you really did have something important to talk to him about. "Yes, I only wanted your cock. Please fuck me, I promise I'll be good forever"

"My good slut forever?" he questioned, the perverted enthusiasm audible in his tone.

As he spoke, Sy slid his middle finger inside your pussy. "Is that all you want, whore? To be my property?"

"Yeah…"

"You want me to own you?" he taunted, sliding another finger into your pussy, just for the sake of pushing your buttons, "Want me to use your whore body for my pleasure whenever I feel like it?"

A rush of electricity coursed through you.

"That's all I want, Sy" you whispered.

"Are you sure, baby girl?" he taunted, bending down.

His immense frame hovered above your shivering body, his haunting presence enough to get you drunk on the ecstasy of what was to come.

You swallowed thickly, pained tears stinging your eyes. Cupping his cheek over your shoulder, your words came out as a ghostly whisper, "Please-" you breathed out, "I need you now, Sy. I wanted you since I met you back home, you know that. Please, I can't wait any longer"

His daunting chuckle sent shivers all over your body. He pushed himself off of you, but his breath still tickled the back of your neck. It was enough for you to know that you were to remain in place and wait for his next move.

"Of course you can wait, angel" he said, moments before the metallic clank of his belt being unbuckled fueled your senses, "You're lucky I don't want you to"

You released a weak chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief at the way he managed to carry the situation. Your shoulders were dangerously tense as you waited. For anything. For him to say or do something, but he forced you to sit and boil in anticipation. But the build-up was worth the frustration, as when you felt his touch against your pussy, adrenaline started to pump through your veins.

"You know how long I thought about fucking you like this?" Sy asked.

It was then that you realised it wasn't his finger probing your folds, but the tip of his cock. Slick and solid against your pussy, he expertly teased all your right spots.

"You flaunt this fucking tight ass all day long, panting in the heat, sweat dripping down your tits-" Sy exclaimed, his need and hunger for you audible through every word, "and now you're telling me-"

He paused to bend down above you, hands planted on the desk on either side of your shoulders as he spoke lewdly in your ear, "And now you're telling me I got you naked and whimperin', beggin' me to empty my balls inside your pussy?"

Refusing to use your words, you settled for a better answer - the only answer your dazed mind was able to give. Arching your back as you moaned his name, you pushed your ass back, his massive cock inching inside your pussy.

Syverson grunted, low and guttural, pleasure erupting from the depths of his throat. Goosebumps arose across your body.

"Fuck me, Sy-" you cried, your voice breathy and seductive, "Rough me up, come on"

And he did. You managed to push all his buttons and get him to lose the self control he tries so hard to put on display. He did an excellent job, judging by how hard his cock was when he slammed his hips into yours. Your walls spread beyond what you ever thought would be pleasurable, yet he had you crying out his name as your eyes rolled back.

His immense hands held your hips with damaging force, planting bruises all of your skin. Not that you had any choice, but you let yourself go limp, and allowed him to manhandle your frame to his will. With ever powerful thrusts of his body against yours, the desk underneath you rocked, slamming into the wall, making a sound loud and obnoxious enough to awake just about anyone who was sleeping there.

But you didn't care. And neither did Sy.

The only thing you had on your mind was the killed ecstasy he fucked into you, his cock slamming balls deep into your aching pussy. You rolled your head, whined and dug your nails into your palms, in what was probably the most pathetic attempt to keep yourself grounded.

Syverson wasn't far behind. His breathing aggravated, turned into guttural groans that made the hairs on your body stand up.

"Fucking hell" he cursed, his fingers sinking deeper into your flesh as he picked up his pace, "FUCK"

You moaned, a wave of pleasure coursing through you, "Harder please"

Those words went against all your senses, against the pain you felt between your legs, the strain on your back or the lack of air in your lungs. But you wanted more. Needed more.

With one long, hard thrust, Sy pushed his cock all the way inside your pussy, his balls pressing against your clit, "Wouldn't wanna break you, little girl"

The teasing side of you awoke. You pushed yourself up and threw your hair back so that you could turn and look at him over your shoulder, "You couldn't if you tried"

His whole frame darkened. Not just the look in his eyes. He now seemed taller, more dangerous and menacing as your words tickled his lust. Syverson shook his head, and in one swift motion, lodged his hand in your hair pulling you all the way up with your back against his chest.

"I don't want you talking to me like that," he groaned.

If you hadn't felt his cock twitch, fear would have definitely enveloped you.

"You're in no place to undermine me, ok?" he growled, voice deep, ringing against your ear, "You're so small and powerless. It's fucking clear I call the shots. Be a good little girl and don't piss me off" he threatened, his free hand wrapping itself around your neck.

"Or what?" you whispered.

"You're a soldier, right?" Sy laughed, "Wouldn't it be a shame if for a few days you wouldn't be able to walk straight. Or sit down?"

You swallowed thickly, his words turning you own even more as your pussy clenched around his cock just thinking about it, "Sounds more like an offer than a punishment"

Sy took his sweet time answering. Before he opened his mouth to speak, his hand traveled down your body, all the way over to your clit, where he began to apply pressure in the form of experienced, delicate circles.

You whimpered in return and only then did he answer. "Turns out you're a bigger slut than I thought, but don't think it will take me long to have you crying and begging"

You nodded yes. He never asked any kind of question, so you had no idea why you responded that way, you just did, and Sy took it as his cue to resume his work.

This time, he held you against his body. With each thrust, the tip of his cock applied more and more pressure to your sweet and overly sensitive spots, braiding pain into the pleasure he created for you.

But it was what you wanted. How you wanted it. Because it was a matter of time until he had you moaning and crying, expressing the pure ecstasy that was surging through your body. You were approaching your high at such a dangerous speed that the strain in your back was no longer of importance, and the force with which Sy pulled at the roots of your hair, wasn't even passing the threshold of discomfort anymore.

All your thoughts had been flooded by his breathing, low and guttural, against your temple. The simple fact that his pleasure was audible in his tone, aggravated your arousal. You've never in your life been so eager to please someone. But now, you were beaming proudly, your stomach in knots.

You came soon after that. The orgasm came down crushing on you, blurring your thoughts completely. Your muscles spammed uncontrollably, and the cries that escaped your lips were sure to wake up everyone in the compound. But neither you, nor Sy cared.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" you panted, seconds before your eyes rolled back in pleasure, your body remaining weak and consumed in his hold.

"Come on, darling" Sy chuckled, readjusting his hold around your body, pressing you even harder against his chest, "Daddy's gotta finish too. Otherwise we did this for nothing"

"Yes" you moaned.

The way he forced his cock in and out of your sensitive and overly-used cunt brought tears to your eyes. You knew he was close when he slowed down his pace, now his thrusts becoming deeper and less regulated. Each slam of his hips into yours rocked your whole frame, until your toes barely reached the ground. Sy held you up into his massive arms, guiding and handling your body to fit his needs perfectly.

And it fucking worked because in a matter of seconds, he lost control, aggressively riding his high until there was no amount of cum to be released. When he pulled out, panting and exhausted, he moved to the side, planting his hands on the edge of the desk to catch his breath.

Determined to not piss him off anymore, you gathered yourself much faster than him, ready to dress yourself back up and bolt.

"What are you doing?" Sy asked, looking at you over his shoulder with confusion in his eyes.

"I'm- uh, I was gonna-" you mumbled, pointing to the door but he stopped you.

"Hop on" he said.

He pointed to the desk, and although unsure, you did as he told you. You barely managed to stay awake while he was in the small bathroom attached to his room, but when he returned and placed a damp washcloth between your legs, your mind buzzed awake.

"I hurt you" he said, massaging your thighs as he softly cleaned you up, "I got-"

"No, it's fine" you stopped him, "I'm just exhausted and probably very sore, god, but I'm good"

Sy just nodded, something obviously still bothering him. But he didn’t say anything, and instead, proceeded to clean you up, ending with a gentle kiss against your sensitive opening.

You hissed unconsciously, but then ended up smiling widely, amused with your own reactions. Sy helped you off the desk and guided you to his bed, his hand on your ass as you leaned into his side for support.

“It hurts, right?”

“I’m just sore, it’s fine” you tried to dismiss his concerns, but he wasn’t having it.

Sy grabbed your face into his hands and forced you to look into his eyes, “It’s gotta, darling, you understand that”

You shook your head, smiling, but he wasn’t waiting for your approval.

“Come on” he said, guiding you to lay down, “We have about 2 hours of sleep left, and god knows, you’re gonna need them”

“Fuck yes” you sighed, plopping down next to him.

Although every fiber of your body begged for closeness, you stopped yourself, afraid to not cross any lines. But, much to your surprise, Syverson didn’t waste a second before pulling you into his arms and tucking your head in the crook of his neck. It gave you a sense of security you never felt before in your life - the way his heart beat against your skin. He fell asleep with his arms fastened around your frame, tightening his hold every time you tried to move.

It was just a matter of seconds until you both drifted off. Considering your whereabouts and the circumstances you’ve lived though, it was safe to say this was probably the best night’s sleep you had gotten in months. That was why, when you were pulled awake by him getting ready around the room, you were so disappointed.

“Is it 6 already?” you mumbled, rolling over only to land face first into his pillow.

“Go back to sleep, darling,” Sy said, fastening his belt, “Got some paperwork to do. I’ll cover for you and then I’ll come back with coffee in about 2 hours or so, how’s that sound, hm?”

“Mmm” you moaned, “Perfect”

The last thing you heard was Sy chuckling at himself, and then, you fell back asleep. You had no idea how much time passed until a loud, redundant noise woke you up. It took you about a few seconds to realise what it actually was that you were hearing.

“Y/n?” a grave male voice echoed from behind the door, “You in there?”

After that, he knocked a few times more, before starting to repeatedly slam his fist into the door.

“It’s open, what the fuck-” you groaned, not even standing up from the bed.

Instantly, the door flew open, Sgm. MacGregor bursting into the room, features ablaze with pure anger.

Your face fell.

“Sergeant, I-” you tried to speak, hurrying to find a way to explain what exactly it was that you were doing naked, in a room other than yours, when in fact you should have already been on post for god knows how many hours.

“Don’t even wanna hear it” he groaned, waving towards you, “This is about Captain Syverson”

“What-?” you muttered, “What happ-”

“Shot” he said bluntly, “3 times. You need to move. Now”

#captain syverson #captain syverson imagine #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #captain syverson smut #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fics #henry cavill writing #herny cavill x you #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia

818 notes · View notes

eremiie · 3 years

Note

Hello there I really like your writing and I was maybe wondering I can get some angst of a cheating eren who break his s/o heart

yes you can!! i shed a few tears writing this bc i was listening to sad music & thinking, but i hope you enjoy, i am not the best at writing angst😪!

cheers to you - eren x reader

in which eren breaks your heart and you have no choice but to move on.

tw; crying, heartbreak ig idk

2.5k words | angst | modern au

"okay."

you pushed at sasha's phone, you didn't want to see anymore. you were trying to suppress your tears, refusing to cry in front of your two friends.

sasha took one more look at the photos before swiping out of her camera roll, looking back up at you with a frown, hitch likewise. "_____, are you okay?"

and you hated when people asked you that. you thought you were doing fine, you thought you could keep everything down but you simply thought wrong. you croaked out the smallest sound, but before you could even get a word out the tears began to spill, your eyes becoming bleary with the suffocating liquid and the suffocating feeling surrounding your heart. you felt so dumb.

hitch rushed to your side pulling you into a hug until your head fell against her shoulder, body going limp besides the soft heaves that would leave your shuddering body. the pictures of eren were embedded in your head, replaying in your mind, constantly on repeat and you wished to think of anything else that wasn't clawing at your heart like the photos lingering in your subconscious. it was all you could see, almost like a photo album; eren's hands sat on some random girls waist while she straddled him, his jaw slacked open as she ground against him, whoever taking the photo catching her mid grind. his eyes were half lidded if you remembered correctly, reddening, he must've been high.

you couldn't tell if that fact alone hurt you less or more.

your mind swiped, another photo with the same blond haired girl, this time her hands cupping his face and his hands gripping her ass while they engaged in a kiss that you wished was chaste. you were repulsed that your lips had met his in almost the same manner before he left for that party the same night. more sobs left your poor quivering lips, hitch's grip around you tightening as she tried to shush your sobs and cries.

sasha's hands ran over her face as she shook her head clear disappointment evident as she watched you and hitch.

"what did i do wrong?" you gasped for air finally pulling away from hitch, the only body part connecting with hers be your hands that she clasped so delicately as if, if she squeezed too tight you would break. "my heart hurts, it hurts, it hurts," you babbled as tears fell from the bottom of your chin and the bridge of your nose, your eyes were puffy and swollen. "this hurts so bad," you conveyed your emotions through words another gasp leaving your lips.

"you did nothing wrong," hitch reassured rubbing her thumbs against the surface of your hands. "he's just an idiot."

"it's gonna hurt, and that's okay," sasha scooted forward from her position on the floor laying her head in your lap and you knew she was right but god, you didn't want it to hurt. you wanted the pounding in your head to stop, the recurring thoughts to stop, the salty tears streaming down your cheeks to stop, i mean you wanted someone to tell you exactly where you messed up so you could go back and try again.

"do you want us to stay with you tonight?"

you looked down at the side of sasha's face, one of your hands letting go of hitch to comb through brunette hair, and the lazy bun in the back of her head seemed all too familiar already, the way a couple of flyaways framed the front of her face had you covering your mouth, repressing a gag with your palm, sasha whipping her head around to confront the source of the sound, worry on her face, but you squeezed your eyes shut, even the furrow in her brow reminding you all too much of the boy.

"______?" hitch's arms were back around you but you quickly pushed them off feeling the rising feeling of your breakfast you had not too long ago, rushing to the trash can in the corner of your dorm letting your remnants spill from your stomach. the feeling of throwing up felt so foreign to you, you couldn't even remember the last time you did it, and to some degree you wished your heart came up with it.

hitch's mouth parted in the slightest not even sure what to say but the anger behind her eyes was apparent. "baby, i'm so sorry." was all she could say in response while your body crouched beside the trash can, your hands slipping from the rim until they were palm first on the floor, slowing turning into fists.

"i wanna be alone for a couple hours." you managed to utter with a sniff.

"you sure?" sasha asked, standing up awkwardly with hitch reciprocating. you nodded your head and it felt like everything was going in snapshots, them walking to the door, the door opening and their bodies disappearing, your figure laying back in your bed and then the next snapshot didn't come, sleep had came so quick you didn't even have time to process it.

❈ ❈ ❈

your eyes fluttered slightly and you relished in the heat over you for a minute. your mind felt like a clean slate for the time being, as your eyes opened to the bed next to you, sasha's figure vacant from her bed. you remembered asking for some space before you left but you thought she'd had return by now. it was dark, but it couldn't have been too late as orange rays from the sun were attempting to shine through your curtains, making you assume that it was just around seven, the sun setting soon. but you craved the warmness that was around you a little more, pulling down to reach for your blanket, until your body froze.

the hand wrapped around your waist, much like in the photographs engraved in your brain twitched and that same sickness felt like it was resurfacing yet you dared to move, tears brimming again subconsciously.

"eren," you mumbled under your breath.

"hm?" oh, so he was awake.

your face scrunched up in agony at the sound of his voice, your eyebrows coming together, your eyes shutting and you biting your lip so hard the taste of blood collected on your tongue. "please," your breathing began to thicken again, you wanted to move his arm but your body was almost stuck in place. "move."

eren groaned against your back, nose nuzzling into the back of your neck and you mentally cringed. "get out," you said abruptly, body jolting at the sudden movement and you felt him still behind you. how did he even get in? and then you immediately regretted making an spare dorm key and giving it to him only a couple months into your relationship. "get out, get out." you finally regained some self control, your body slithering from under his until your arm touched the floor and you crawled away from your own bed. "go, what are you doing?" you lashed, his gingerly stare making you aware of the tears cascading down your face again.

eren stared back at you finally lifting his head up from the spare pillow that he always slept with when he spent nights with you, the pillow that stayed tucked away on your bed and the same pillow that you'd have to wash and get rid of that stupid recognizable cologne he wore, the same cologne that would linger on most of his clothing that you owned. "_____,"

"no, leave, please leave, i can't do this."

eren seemed genuinely confused, sitting up completely now and scooting forward until his legs dangled off the bed. "baby, what's-"

you winced at the nickname and clutched at your stomach, feeling the emptiness inside from the lack of food, yet you still felt the urge to dispel anything inside of it still. "please leave." you almost felt lightheaded, you felt as if you weren't being heard and you were sick.

the significant sound of the dorm keycard slot beeping until sasha's figure came back in, "_____, i left the key hear but luckily i had a keyca-" her voice slowly died down as she studied the scene of the dorm, your body on the floor away from your bed and eren's figure sat on the same bed, both pair of eyes now looking up at her."

"what the hell?" sasha stormed over to eren grabbing his arm in a feeble attempt to pull him off of your bed. although she wasn't strong enough eren did stand up, mainly because of your pleas for him to get out just earlier. "get out! she doesn't want you here, weirdo!" sasha exclaimed pointing towards the door clear anger flashing in her eyes. "and don't just come in here uninvited again!"

those green eyes that would unknowingly keep you up for nights after today kept that confused gaze on you as he walked around you and made you feel stupid and small. we're you overreacting? were those pictures just your imagination?

"_____..." eren mumbled before looking at your frame on the floor once more.

“get out!” sasha exclaimed.

you weren't sure if he was just that dense or he was hiding the fact that he knew exactly what he did. the door shut and you immediately began crying again, this time harder. wails of pain escaping your throat. your cries were loud and full of pain. you clutched at your shirt as if to grasp at your broken heart.

"oh my gosh." sasha dropped her keycard and bag onto your bed where she still stood and got on the floor with you pulling you as much into her lap as possible. you felt fragile in your hands, her gripping at the sweatshirt around your body. she listened to your cries, responding with "i knows," and "mhm," as if they were telling her a story, simply listening to the aching noises that were leaving you.

"sasha," you finally mustered the courage to speak a few words again, although they resembled your words from yesterday. "i'm hurting."

"i know, i know."

"i loved him." you blinked so you could see a little clearer, lifting your head to look at sasha, bringing your hands to either side of her head, your thumbs stroking her jaw. "i thought he loved me? why? why?"

sasha couldn't bare to look at your sad, damaged eyes and instead pulled you back against her chest. although your sobs died down she could feel the convulsing of your body and opted to hold you for as long as you needed.

“does he even know what he did? does he even know how much pain i’m in right now?”

sasha couldn’t even answer that question. by the looks of it he didn’t, maybe he was high? under the influence? but either way you didn’t have the courage to confront him about it.

instead you spent the next couple of weeks sulking, mending to your broken heart and staying out of eren’s way, no matter how many times he tried to communicate with you. it seemed as if word got to him on what he did, sasha getting connie to talk to him, and as angry as eren got there was no denying what he did, especially with photo evidence.

your phone blew up with his own pleas begging for forgiveness, begging for you to talk to him, to come back, to do something.

but you were fragile, and you knew that even being in his vicinity would tear you apart bit by bit. you didn’t want to weep in front of him, you didn’t want to be in front of him in the first place, nor did you want his pity.

did you want to get back with him? the question still pondered on your mind constantly but both sasha and hitch refused to let you, and they were perfectly fine with the situation going unresolved if it meant better for you.

"so?" hitch pointed the straw of her frappucino at you. "i really think you just need to try exploring your options, just living a little. you can go to the next party with sasha and i, i promise we won't mind."

“hitch i want her to go to a party too but i don’t know about her getting with anyone.” sasha swirled the stick inside her latte to mix it up before sucking the liquid off the end.

now it had been a few months since you had seen eren, a few months since you began to heal yourself slowly compared to those first couple weeks. you had to really thank hitch and sasha for being there most of the way for you, and you had to especially thank netflix and sleep for being two of your greatest distractions.

you never officially broke up with eren, sure you saw him in the hallways (and you were certain he saw you as well) you had a couple lectures with him where the two of you would sneak glances at each other; which kind of reminded you of when the two of you first began liking the other. he never made an effort to speak to you after the first couple weeks when he would text your phone constantly, as much as it seemed like he wanted to still.

"i don't know hitch. i haven't even got rid of his stuff yet. they're still sitting in that stupid box in the corner of me and sasha's dorm." sasha nodded in confirmation taking a bite of her biscuit.

"but i don't think that box should stop you from getting out the house again. you haven't really been anywhere besides maybe target with sasha. plus i miss seeing you!"

you rolled your eyes with a slight chuckle. "you see me at least three times, especially when... you know, you came like everyday at first."

hitch shrugged her shoulders and then took another sip of her drink. "but do you think i can start seeing you more is the question? c'mon this is the first step towards a new life without that bastard."

you pondered on the thought before a small sigh escaped your lips, and you slowly nodded your head.

"really?" hitch exclaimed, her hands reaching across the table to grab yours. "you mean you won't mind coming to the party this saturday?"

you narrowed your eyes at hitch. "this was your plan wasn't it?"

"yes, yes it was. but there's no backing out now."

"yes, hitch, i'll come to the party this saturday." you decided that maybe this would help your healing heart in the least and you would try to push aside the boy that broke it for the couple hours just to spend time with your friends. but you couldn't help and wonder, "what if i bump into him at the party? or he tries to talk to me?"

sasha looked at hitch and hitch looked back before both turning their eyes to you. "we can be with you the whole time if that's the case."

"i wouldn't want to ruin your fun."

"babe, hanging out with you is one of the points of bringing you, ____." sasha smiled.

you internally twitched at the mention of the nickname ‘babe’ but neither one of your friends seemed to tell. you were getting better with reacting to things that reminded you of him, and you didn’t hysterically start crying at the slightest mention or object that related to him.

"we got you, okay?"

you frowned slightly but gave sasha a smile back and squeezed hitch's hand in the slightest. "yeah, okay."

this was the beginning of a new life for you, you wouldn’t spend your days sulking after him anymore. cheers to you and your first big step forward.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger #attack on titan #eren angst #eren aot

412 notes · View notes

theskywaslookingback · 3 years

Note

tma fic recs please ? 🤲🏽

Oooooo yes! I never get asks like this, thank you!

[my tumblr fic recs tag is here for browsing]

I had to put it under a cut because it got...entirely too long barely half an hour into making it, sorry.

Under 5k

means of cartharsis by orphan_account [G] [965]

“You’d think – you’d that at this point nightmares would be second nature for me, hm?” Martin says, forcing a smile even as he tugs the blanket tighter around his trembling shoulders.

It’s meant to be a bit funny. Instead of laughing, though, Jon frowns.

“No,” he says simply, and matter-of-factly wipes the moisture from Martin’s cheeks with a tissue like he’s a crying child.

A Proper Sleepover by Goodluckdetective (scorpiantales) [T] [1.4k]

In a different world, one where Elias is not waiting for them outside the Lonely, everyone has a chance to savor a moment of respite. As much as they can get these days. If only to talk about things that long need to be spoken.

“Basira says we should all sleep in the same room tonight,” Jon says without looking up. “Safer. So we can keep an eye out for intruders and also each other.”

“So we’re having a proper sleepover then?”

Jon scoffs. “Technically we’ve been having a proper one for months.”

where i go, when i go there by rainny_days [T] [1.7k]

Martin wants Jon to hold his hand. Martin doesn't want Jon to hold his hand.

It's complicated.

all the other ways by AptlyNamed [G] [2.2k]

Jon loses his first soul mark when he is eight years old.

a palace from ruin by bibliocratic [G] [2.2k]

"What're you sorry for?” Martin asks.

“I should have asked,” Jon says finally. “I'd never.... you were always so private about him, so I mean, at first I wasn't sure he was even yours, but then – when you, when you went with Peter, and I – he was so small, and I thought he was h-half-dead. S-so I picked him up and I carried him. And I'm sorry.”

interiors by doomcountry [T] [2.7k]

In the doorway, he fumbles with his keys. Their sound is loud in the silent stairwell. You don’t remember getting here.

searching for a light (for a right) by Kalgalen [T] [2.7k]

Some people make the mistake of assuming he's naive about sex, for the simple reason he hasn't dated in a while. Tim has called him a prude, at one point, and implied that he was somehow afraid of the intimacy required by the act; he wasn’t entirely wrong, but this definitely isn’t the reason for Jon's disinterest and general bafflement toward what most people seemed to consider as "what makes them human".

Jon simply hasn't found the right person. That is all it is: high standards, and a reticence to let people in.

(In which Jon finds out society is wrong about what a romantic relationship should be.)

how to plant a garden in rocky soil by treeprince [T] [2.9k]

Sometimes you just need a good pair of hands to work out all the kinks in your life.

Good thing Martin has two.

A Weather In The Flesh by cuttooth [G] [3k]

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

I'll bring the motion by callmearctus [T] [3.1k]

A long series of kidnappings and international flights leaves its own special mark on someone. Before the Unknowing, Jon is a mess.

Martin helps.

A Bread Made In Heaven by Againstme [G] [3.3k]

Martin moves over and watches how his boyfriend handles the dough. He's awkward with it, tentative and gentle, as if he's scared of hurting it somehow.

"Is this, uh, am I doing this right?" Jon asks, still slowly stretching out the dough and folding it onto itself.

"Well," he says shifting closer to Jon again, "you could be applying more pressure. Here, let me help you out, dear."

Martin moves fully behind Jon, and reaches around him, putting his hands on top of his boyfriend's. Jon inhales sharply, but doesn't say anything else, just lets Martin's hand rest on top of his.

Martin's hands are bigger, but not big enough to entirely envelop the other's hands, and Jon's hands are much, much warmer than his own are. To see what they're doing, Martin moves his head to look over Jon's shoulder. Though he can't see his boyfriend's face from this angle, he can see how it is slowly growing red at the edge of his vision. He decides not to tease him on it, instead content with letting a smile spread across his face and slowly guiding their joined hands in the proper motion.

Or, Martin teaches Jon how to make bread.

stumbling and spinning by lady_mab [G] [3.3k]

“Things happened,” Jon says demurely, trying to untangle Gerry’s fingers, but it only results in him getting pulled in so Gerry can kiss him properly. “It’s not all that bad.”

“I suppose not,” Gerry says with a sigh, sitting back upright. “You somehow managed to snag an incredible boyfriend out of it.”

It takes a solid few seconds before realization clicks in Martin’s brain. “You mean me?” [...]

“You have to admit, Jon has great tastes,” Gerry teases.

nothing sweeter than local honey by beeclaws [T] [3.4k]

So Tim is content, one arm leaned into the spray, waiting for the water to warm, enjoying the feeling of homecoming underneath the gentle fuzz of jetlag, when he hears gasping, panicked breaths coming from the other room.

Tim and Jon, in the aftermath, relearning how to be okay.

When Words are Inadequate by Mugatu [T] [3.8k]

Meals and the preparation of are, for want of a better word, informative. Fact gathering. A place where they can fill in the gaps of their knowledge of the other.

Jon cooks for Martin, and they learn more about each other.

go softly by doomcountry [T] [4k]

And there is nothing else besides this.

Imago by cuttooth [T] [4k]

“Jon?” he asks tentatively, tightening his grip around the poker as it slips against his sweaty palm. The antennae twitch, and suddenly Martin knows that it’s Jon, the knowledge sliding into his mind in a surge of desperate affection, the same profound love he felt that first time he truly saw Jon in the fog of the Lonely.

“Oh,” he whispers. “It really is you.”

Jon changes, but he’s still the same to Martin.

shoreline by bibliocratic [G] [4.1k]

“Martin," Tim says kindly, tipsily, only mildly slurring. "Dearest, dearest Martin. You're wankered, babe. Last train to Stockwell fucked off hours ago because it is now piss off o'clock in the morning, and there's a sofa with your exact name on it at my place. Thought you said you wanted some handsome fellow to take you back to his tonight?”

Or: The OG Archive crew go drinking, Martin comes out, and gets some well deserved TLC. In that order.

get your epitaph right by bibliocratic [G] [4.2k]

Martin's daemon has tried on the shape of dogs and lizards and snakes and horses, and even – once, when he was younger and Mum took him to the seaside, a fish.

Martin's never seen his soul in the dressing of a spider before.

i've known the warmth of your doorways by beeclaws [T] [4.2k]

'I’m always in pain, Jon wants to say, even as he dismisses the thought as melodramatic. Between his growing collection of old wounds and scar tissue, the supernatural hunger for statements that hasn’t been truly satiated in months, and the unpredictable aches and strains his body threw off day by day long before he ever set foot in the Institute, some level of pain and discomfort follows Jon wherever he goes now. He is used to being in pain. He’s not used to someone holding his hand as he suffers through it.'

Jon catalogs the comforts he receives, and wonders how long he will be allowed to keep them.

lay down your weary head by Zykaben [T] [4.6k]

Jon has been running himself ragged, searching for every scrap of information he can possibly find about the Unknowing. He's exhausted and sleep-deprived but he can't bring himself to take a break, not now.

Luckily, Tim and Martin are there to make sure that their boyfriend gets the care and rest he needs.

only the sweetest words remain by bluejayblueskies [T] [4.6k]

This isn't how things are supposed to go, right? Jon remembers those ratty paperbacks from the charity shops, dime-a-dozen romance novels with broken bindings and yellowing pages and words that spoke of love and passion and sexuality in prose that was more than a bit too mature for someone whose age hadn’t yet reached double digits. Stolen glances turn into dinner dates turn into passionate kisses turn into…

Well, he’d never actually read those parts of the books, because it had all seemed so deeply uncomfortable and gross. But he got the picture.

Or, Jonathan Sims, on being loved

5k-20k

and they keep not letting go by Marianne_Dashwood [G] [5k]

It’s an electric feeling, something strange and new and familiar all at once, even though he has been holding Martin’s hand for most of the day. His stomach swoops, like he is standing on the edge of the precipice of realisation and staring into the void of unknowing. But at the same time, he does know. In this instant of contact between them, the last few years of cups of tea and small smiles and momentary glances, of panic and fear and only feeling safe with Martin’s solid presence in the room, despite his paranoia, rush into him, and oh, oh oh.

ready to call this love by yewgrove [G] [5.6k]

How is Martin supposed to tell Jon that he panicked, stupidly, when the lovely old lady down the village asked him what they were doing in this part of the world? Got the shopping! Oh, by the way, we're married now! Whole village thinks we're on our honeymoon, hope you don't mind!

Prenons-nous la main by luftballons99 [T] [6k]

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

This Must Be The Place by cuttooth [T] [6k]

“You said – you said we were going home,” Martin says softly.

“I did,” says Jon, and is grateful that Martin doesn’t comment on him calling the Archives home. “I – I don’t really know where to go. I, uh, I don’t have a flat anymore, I don’t think. We could find a hotel?”

“Let’s go to my place,” says Martin. His hand squeezes Jon’s, more gently than before. Most importantly, Jon notes, he doesn’t let go.

Jon and Martin go home for a little while.

Small Things, Simple Acts by ZaliaChimera [T] [6.6k]

Even after leaving London, Jon and Martin are not free, not really. Maybe they never will be.

But for now they can be themselves, and maybe in the end, that's enough.

house by tomatoes [G] [9k]

Martin can take care of himself.

roses, roses, roses by acetheticallyy (judesstfrancis) [T] [9.3k]

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses.

a deeply annoying child by ajkal2 [G] [9.6k]

Jon is hiding under the desk.

----

There's a child in the Archives, who shouldn't be there.

Inseparable by voiceless_terror [T] [10.3k]

“You can stay.” The voice interrupts his internal panic, and he looks over to find Jon studiously avoiding his gaze, staring hard at a neighboring bush. Martin wonders what caused his sudden change of heart. “But you have to sit on the other side. And don’t talk to me.”

Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood meet as children. Some things change, others do not.

i'm almost me again, you're almost you by gruhukens [G] [12k]

After a second Jon steps in towards him, close enough that Martin flinches, but all Jon does is put two fingers under his chin with his free hand and raise it until Martin can’t duck away. Jon has never touched him so casually before – at least, not until today, and it raises a lot of thoughts and feelings that Martin is trying very hard not to process.

Much like a lot of other things that have happened, he thinks. Not that it’s horrible or terrifying or numbing like everything else has been: it’s just another thing on the list of things he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.

---

In the wake of the Lonely, there's a lot that Martin doesn't really want to think about.

hello my old heart by firebirdsuite [T] [15.8k]

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

Over 20k

The Kindness of Strangers by TheOestofOCs [M] [23k]

It was easier to treat Jon like a monster when he wasn’t shivering against his back, brokenly humming—wait, was that…

“Are you trying to do ‘Hey, Jude’?” Tim demanded.

Jon stopped, stiffening. “Mm hrmh mm mmh hm,” he said defensively.

“You really can’t hold a tune, can you, boss?”

It was just an ordinary walk to a restaurant. Tim had insisted that if they were going to talk, there would be no tape recorders or weird Archives ghosts listening in. A bit of fresh air wouldn’t kill him, Tim had said. What could go wrong?

By the time Jon spots the white delivery van, it’s much too late.

The Stranger kidnaps Jon. Tim comes along for the ride.

Misjudged by ShastaFirecracker [T] [36.5k]

Martin's been a longtime listener of What the Ghost, so when Georgie gives a shoutout to her flatmate's Twitch channel during a Q&A, he checks it out - only to discover that her flatmate is also his most terrifying coworker at his new job. The first time they crossed paths, Jon yelled at him for incompetence. But on the streams, Martin sees an entirely different person - someone fun and relaxed, engaging and unfairly attractive. Over time, Martin begins to find that Jon buried inside his dour, awkward coworker. He also learns to live with the fact that his crush is painfully one-sided... or is it?

if we make it through the night everyone is gonna hear us (Series) by skvadern [Ratings Vary] [42.4k]

In which Sasha survives the NotThem (with a little help from a certain Distortion) and she and Jon spend s2 working together to try and make sense of everything that's happening to them. It goes...interestingly

the garden of forking paths by bibliocratic [T] [49.7k]

Whatever he had predicted might happen, Jon wasn't expecting to survive upon demolishing the Panopticon. He certainly wasn't expecting to be rescued.

Instead, he wakes up in an alternative universe where he's never been the Archivist, and Martin Blackwood doesn't exist.

Martin Blackwood wakes up somewhere else entirely.

it's only forever by lady_mab [T] [50.9k]

“The castle at the center of the labyrinth,” Jon breathes, recalling again the words from one of the past conversations with Martin. “He’s there.”

“Turn back, Jonathan,” the Goblin King says, and Jon is surprised to hear a slight edge of desperation in the tone. “Turn back before it’s too late.”

“I can’t,” Jon answers with the same tone. “You know that I can’t.”

The Goblin King’s grin is gone completely, and he regards Jon with a degree of pity before that melts into resignation.

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey [T] [53.3k]

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

A Home For What Loves You by TheWrongShop [T] [151k]

It was completely fine that Jon was following up on this very normal, non-supernatural statement at midnight on a Friday. He was going to find nothing at all, and then he was going to go home and sleep for fourteen straight hours and feel absolutely no qualms about moving case #0150409 directly into the filing cabinet marked "discredited".

Or; Jon and Martin end up investigating Carlos Vittery's basement and finding the entity formerly known as Jane Prentiss together.

RATED E *MINORS DNI*

A Look And A Voice by cuttooth [E] [6.9k]

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Jon asks bluntly, and for a second Martin can’t breathe.

“It - it doesn’t matter what I - ” he begins valiantly, before Jon interrupts him.

“Because I want to have sex with you, and frankly it doesn’t matter if you think it’s for the wrong reasons. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions. The only thing that matters is if you want to as well.”

Martin meets a guy in a bar and takes him home.

Warms The Coldest Night by cuttooth [E] [11k]

"Flame that warms the coldest night Bring to us the waxing Light, Be with us on Solstice Night." Gypsy - Bring Back The Light

There is mistletoe hanging in the doorway to the Archives when Jon gets in.

Curiosity by ShastaFirecracker [E] [11.6k]

“You know that conversation we had the other day about how one of the most important things for queer youth to learn is that it's okay to change their minds, because identity and self-discovery are always fluid?”

Behind him, Martin slipped oven mitts over his hands and pulled open the oven door. The scent of garlic and rosemary flooded the kitchen. “Yeah?” he said.

“I, um... I'd like to revisit the topic of sex.”

At the Interim (Series) by Rend_Herring [E] [41k]

A Measure Outside the Lines and The Residuum

triptych (Series) by Stacicity [E] [44.9k]

A collection of Jon/Tim/Martin fics

a steady hand, a delicate man by callmearctus [E] [52.8k]

Martin is the proprietor and manager of a very discrete and fairly exclusive brothel situated between Belgravia and Chelsea. Blackwood House excels at special requests and pleasing any client.

Except for Jon, who probably has never been pleased a day in his entire life.

Despite that, he still comes back. It eventually begs the question: how do you solve a problem like Jon Sims?

#statement ends #anonymous #fic recs #save #((this took me like two hours lmaooooo))

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