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dancingbirdie · 7 months

Note

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him.

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.”

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire.

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way.

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought.

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously.

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering.

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly.

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence.

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.”

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it.

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt.

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him.

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?”

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder.

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished.

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.”

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror.

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed.

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering.

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed.

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot.

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes.

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination.

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master.

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp.

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain.

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion.

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling.

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face.

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand.

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water.

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand.

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty.

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off.

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze.

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try.

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad.

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her.

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question.

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well.

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly.

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her.

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees.

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far.

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed.

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind.

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years.

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare.

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted.

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight.

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady.

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.”

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on.

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession.

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment.

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face.

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest.

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly.

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.”

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much.

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy.

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her.

She held his gaze, speechless.

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation.

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone.

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him.

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded.

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer.

“This… this is nice,” he whispered.

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response.

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next.

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ao3commentoftheday · 5 months

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any advice about how to deal with posting a fic and getting radio silence? I know ppl aren’t owed engagement ofc, but I feel embarrassed at having spent so long on something no one cares about, and although I liked thinking about the characters and fandom before (and was considering writing more about them), now I can’t think about it without feeling that overpowering embarrassment 😭 part of me wants to delete the fic, but that would mean having to open ao3 and look at it again LMAO

sorry for the venting, I know this is probably a me problem, but has anyone else felt this, and if so, is there any way to make this pervasive shame go away??

*hugs* This is a very painful thing to experience and there isn't really any way to make it just go away, unfortunately. However, you can reflect on it a bit, when you're ready to.

Writing and posting are separate activities. If you've enjoyed writing the story but you haven't enjoyed posting it to the Archive, you can always continue writing just for yourself. This may or may not be something you'd enjoy - you know better than I do whether some of your enjoyment came from the anticipation of a reaction to your work.

Try to analyze where your embarrassment is coming from. Is it worrying that your story was poorly written? A lack of a reaction doesn't mean that the story is bad. Being unpopular doesn't mean it's bad, either. If your story is good to you, then it's a good story.

Is your embarrassment from feeling like you were "caught trying." Is it a cringe at the idea that you put effort into something that someone else doesn't (appear to) find valuable?

Is it actually embarrassment at all? Are you feeling a different kind of hurt instead? Did you hope that someone in particular would read your story and now you feel ignored? Did you hope to be embraced by your community and now you feel shunned?

These are difficult questions that I'm asking and you might not want to think about them right now. That's okay. You don't need to if you don't want to. You can definitely delete the fic and pretend it never happened. Or you can log out of that AO3 account and create a new one and never look back. Maybe you just need to take a week or a month off for a hiatus of sorts and when the ache isn't as bad, you'll be able to face it all again.

When I felt this way, it was because I felt like I'd put something into my community and that I'd been ignored. But since that time, I've found one person who gives me all of the community support I used to get from an entire fandom, and now when I post something on AO3 I don't actually need a response anymore. I get all of the fun and excitement and validation etc from my conversations and RP threads with my best friend.

Once you've got a little distance from the pain of this moment, try to figure out what it is that you were hoping to get and then figure out how you can get it. Maybe it's through posting fic to AO3, but maybe it's not.

Let's see what others can suggest. This is not something you're experiencing alone, anon. So very many of your fellow fan writers have experienced this too ❤️

#asks and answers

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kisses4reid · 2 months

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convenient | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - studying while working at a convenience store is easier that thought when a regular happens to be a genius.

genre - fluff, fem!college!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

warnings - school work, that always scares me. they’re the same age!!! early 20s. mention of condoms.

edit - bc this is getting so much love, i’m opening a taglist for part 2!!! just comment or put in a req to join the ‘convenient’ taglist 🫶

the chime of the door didn’t phase you, the creaks and squeaks of the store slowly becoming one with you. flipping onto the next page of your biology textbook, something that was unnecessarily expensive, you shake your hand to get rid of the cramp you slowly became aware of.

it was only when a wave of man’s cologne and a plastic bag stood in front of you that you ripped your eyes off of your books.

he was tall, skinny, had long(ish) hair and looked amazing. there wasn’t really anything else to say, other than that the thin smile he displayed toward you made you smile back.

“just these for today?” you ask, fixing your posture and pushing some loose strands back to their place behind your ears.

“yes, thank you.” he says, voice as timid as his appearance. it was a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him as his long fingers slip through his wallet to find a debit card. “have a good night.”

your eyes return to your textbook as you go to erase an answer you had previous written, obviously wrong.

“the heads of the phospholipid bilayer are hydrophilic, not phobic.” he says. it surprised you, making you return to his gaze slowly before realising you should probably reply instead of staring at the man.

“oh- yeah, thanks. i caught that it’s just, i guess i’ve been staring at the same words for so long i can’t differentiate them.” you give a small fake laugh as he nods, giving you a long look before coughing and leaving promptly. he leaves with his bag, and his hands fiddling with each other.

you can barely focus after that. customers come and go, and although you’ve only been doing the late shift for a week, this encounter with the unknown man couldn’t leave your mind. the way he dressed, his smell, his voice and how he corrected you (which would totally annoy you usually). you hoped he would return.

and he did. three days later, this time even later than the last.

you were stuck in a dark purple sweater, the aircon in the store blasting cold air that you were too lazy to fix. and although the air flipped pages of notes and questions, you were still stuck in a trance.

the blasting aircon blew a wind of mens cologne this time, it smelt like wood. your eyes glanced up from your books and trailed the familiar man, noticing how he was reusing the plastic bag from days before.

he returned to the checkout with apples, a 3 minute cannelloni, and a bag of coffee. he was now the one trailing you, “where did Latrice go?” you look up, chuckling a bit,

“Latrice is getting paid by her daughter-in-law to babysit the twins,” you reply, surprised you were willing to tell him so much information. he could be a stalker for all you know. or just a regular, obviously that’s way more likely. “trust me, i miss her as much as you do. $14.98.”

he nodded with a small smile and sliced his card down the side of the card reader.

you searched for him now, only after two encounters you were already craving some sort of human interaction at work. usually you avoided it since the only other ‘regulars’ were old men and mean teenagers. you had switched to writing a biology report on your computer, the sound of the keyboard almost covering the sound of the door bell.

a bag of apples, a 2 minute lasagne, a bag of coffee, and a banana muffin.

“big night?”

“uh- what?”

“you got a banana muffin. i thought you were starting to become predictable.” you bagged his things as he chuckled, looking over you and your laptop. you noticed only because you were also looking at him, “biology report. wanna read it?” you joked, but he didn’t catch that part.

now he was behind the register, sat on your wheelie stool reading and editing your report while walking you through everything he was changing. you didn’t understand most, but you were just happy to stay around him. you weren’t even scared of Old Alan, the guy who only buys cucumbers and condoms. nobodies ever asked him, don’t think anyone wants to know.

“what’s your word limit?”

“3500.”

“only 3500?” he gave you a raised eyebrow, voice getting slightly higher. he coughed, “sorry, that’s nearly impossible.”

you sigh, “i know… i’m y/n by the way. thought you should know who your helping cheat.”

“i’m not helping you cheat, i’m just… editing,” he hit backspace a few times with a lowered bottom lip, “my names spencer.”

you smiled and crossed your arms as you leaned against the counter. spencer. yeah, that sounded nerdy enough.

pt. 2

#spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x yn #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #cm #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x fem!reader

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bimbobaggins69 · 3 months

Text

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩’𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙮?

𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙩 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: when your new boyfriend Steve accidentally stumbles upon your hidden diary filled with your biggest secrets and darkest fantasies, he asks his fraternity brother Eddie; a drug dealing metalhead to help him fulfill your biggest one.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, past fwb steddie, 90s au, fuck boy eddie, slight hurt/comfort, sexual tension, accidental outing (I swear he means good), oral (m receiving), throat fucking, dirty talk, unprotected p in a (m receiving), anal play (f receiving), unprotected p in v & dp in v, boy on boy action, dom eddie, filth filth filth, fluffs, longing.

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: just an idea that’s been rotting away in my brain that I had to write down… as always thank you to my beautiful girlfriend @xxhellfirebunnyxx and the babes @take-everything-you-can & @livosssblog for beta reading.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 7.4k

Date night with your new boyfriend Steve has turned into a regular weekend thing, although you had your eye on the pretty, brown haired boy all semester long, you had officially met three and half weeks ago while you were working your waitressing job at the on campus diner. He asked for your number and the two of you have been inseparable since.

“Hey Steve, can you go grab my purse off of my desk in my room, please? I’m gonna use the restroom and then we can go.” You ask, making your way into the hallway of your apartment, you close the door to the bathroom behind you softly before going about your business.

The brown haired boy in question walks into your bedroom and grabs your black leather bag off of your desk but before he turns to walk away, something hits his nike sneaker and bounces off, hitting the floor with a light thud.

“Shit.” Steve huffs under his breath as he bends down to retrieve the aforementioned object; it's a journal or maybe a diary? It’s splayed out on the floor, open to the very last page. Steve tries his best not to look, he doesn't want to snoop. He really, really likes you and doesn't want to give any reasons for you not to trust him so early on; but when his hazel eyes catch a glimpse of the words: “Deepest Darkest Fantasies” written in bold black lettering on the very top of the page, he can't help but to continue scanning over the rest. Words like “threesome”, “double penetration” and “guy on guy action” pique his interests. He’s no prude and has definitely had his share of gay action with a few of his fraternity brothers, one specifically that he had an ongoing friends with benefits situation with, so he’s not put off by it. What he is, is surprised, almost shocked that you would be into something like that. Most girls he met weren’t and would cut a date short if you even so much as mentioned the word bisexual in their presence.

He hears the bathroom door click open, so he quickly closes the diary and places it back onto your desk before grabbing your bag and booking it out into the living room where he sits on a bar stool, doing his best to look as if he’d been waiting for you the whole five or so minutes.

“You ready to go?” You ask with an excited smile that Steve just wants to kiss off of you, he already thought you were his perfect dream girl but something about what he found in your diary made him that much more attracted to you; perhaps it was the feeling of someone finally accepting every part of him.

After a nice dinner date at your favorite sushi spot and one too many saki bombers later, you're both stumbling into your apartment, heated lips clashing together like they were set off by some sort of magnetic force. Deep, passionate kisses shared between you, as if they were going out of style. Hands roaming over each other's bodies before finding their permanent spot in the other's soft tresses.

“Need you so fucking bad, baby.” Steve whispers to you through tender kisses.

“Mmm, take me to my room, big boy.” You’re finally able to huff out as his lips move in a sloppy motion, down your neck.

The chosen pet name makes Steve tense, the kisses he was just placing on your collar bone come to an immediate halt.

“Everything okay?” You ask as you gently scratch at his scalp with your long fingernails, making him shudder and groan with delight.

“No, yeah everythings fine.” He scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to your bedroom and tossing you onto your bed. The stuff he saw in your diary, plus the mention of the nickname his fraternity brother/ex friends with benefits calls him, kind of set his brain on fire with thoughts of the three of you together.

Things didn't work out with Eddie in the way Steve had first wanted them to, he was very much into partying and sleeping around whereas Steve had dreams of settling down; he had his party and meaningless sex phase for most of high school, it was no longer fun for him and when he voiced that to Eddie, the metalhead laughed and said he didn't think he’d ever settle down, which was a silent blow to Steve’s heart. He has since gotten over it and moved on all while staying friends and being roommates, but that other part of his brain was enticed at the idea of having both of you at the same time. Maybe he’d have to introduce you to Eddie and let it go from there, let you choose whether you’d want them to be the ones to make that fantasy come true.

Steve loses his train of thought when you start to remove your clothes, then he's on you again; kissing you with an intense passion that almost knocks the air from your lungs.

“God, im gonna fuck you so good.”

“Come on Eddie, It’s a goddamn threesome! When have you ever turned one of those down, huh?” Steve deplores as he paces in front of his half naked roommate who’s sat comfortably in a slouched position with his head thrown back onto a saggy, discolored couch cushion.

“I'm sure I've turned one or two down in my day.” Eddie says with a smirk as his eyes follow the honey eyed boy, whose red sox cap sits backwards over that perfect quiff of brown hair.

“Oh please, you fucked those twin sisters last month and had no moral fucking compass then.” Steve quips, exhaling the built up of irritation out through his nose.

“Well, that was just fun. Believe it or not Harrington, twins are a very niche kink and I won't sit here and listen to you kink shame me, kay?” The smirk on Eddie’s face grows to full capacity when Steve throws him a pissed off look as his hands fall to his hips, in his signature Steve stance.

“C’mon, at least meet her first before you make an indefinite decision, Eds.” Steve says while pulling out the big guns; the nickname mixed with a bat of his long lashes has his roommate instantly folding, though not without contempt.

“Fine, I’ll meet your little girlfriend and decide whether I wanna fuck her or not.” Eddie huffs out as if he’s doing Steve some big nuanced favor. “Now move, you're blocking the Tv.” The metalhead declares as he tosses an overstuffed throw pillow at the former jock.

“You’re not fucking her, we’re fucking her!” Steve shouts as he smacks the pillow out of his face, letting it plop to the floor before he turns around and makes his way to his bedroom to think of the best way to bring this up to you without having to reveal that he accidentally read your diary.

“So, we’re meeting your friend here?” You ask your boyfriend as he opens the door to the sports bar for you before ushering you inside with a light slap to your ass.

“Mhm, my good friend and roommate, Eddie. He’ll be here soon.” Steve hoped he wasn’t being too obvious, although he did doubt you’d catch on without any significant reason to. His nerves were getting the best of him and he felt guilty for doing this behind your back, maybe he should talk to you about this first? But, he figured you could still just meet Eddie on a friendly basis without the added pressure of possibly choosing him to be a third.

Once the hostess sits you down at your table, an unfamiliar head of fluffy waves comes bounding through the crowd, his eyes scanning the restaurant before falling on Steve, who immediately stands up and waves a hand above his head, making Eddie roll his eyes at Steve’s dramatic gesture.

“Sup Harrington,” The metalhead greets before his eyes fall to you, sitting meekly with your hands in your lap and a nervous, tight smile on your face. Eddie couldn't be bothered to take his eyes off of you. He was stunned and it wasn't because he didn't think Steve could pull such a beautiful girl. No, obviously king steve could get whoever he wanted, this was because he too found you unbelievably beautiful and something that Eddie learned early on in his friendship with Steve was that they did not have the same taste in women which is why they never tried for a threesome before, but you oh your were the exception.

After the drinks were flowing through everyone’s veins and the pizza and wings had been devoured, conversation started out light-hearted with lots of banter between the boys. It was clear they were very good friends; how good was still up for debate but you could clearly see that they cared for each other which warmed your heart because Steve deserves all the love in the world. You had never met anyone like him and were grateful he essentially fell into your lap or more so came into your diner and asked for your number.

“So, what other fantasies were in this diary?” Eddie smirks as he looks between you and Steve with a playful, mischievous look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, confused about the question but your heart drops when you see Steve shut his eyes and bow his head as if Eddie just divulged a big secret and by his reaction you were pretty sure he did.

“Oh, was I- did she not- fuck.” Eddie’s shoulders slump and his smile fades as he looks at you and Steve with regretful eyes.

“You read my diary?” You ask, turning towards Steve as your voice tumbles out so sullen and soft, making both of their hearts ache.

“I’m-I’m sorry baby, I was gonna tell-” he begins before he’s being cut off by a now pissed off version of you.

“Wait, so this wasn’t me just meeting one of your friends because you genuinely wanted me to, this is because of the things I wrote in my diary? What, were you trying to set up some kind of threesome?” You scoff as both boys look down into their laps, you can feel the shame rolling off their backs and you couldn’t help the betrayal you felt.

“I’m gonna go, I need some time to think.” You say abruptly standing from the booth, but before you could take a step, they’re both stopping you.

“No, baby just let me take you home.”

“I can drive you home, princess.”

They say in unison, and as much as you wanted to stay and possibly entertain this thought of having a threesome, your humiliation wins over and you just need to get as far away from the both of them as possible.

“I’m fine, I’ll talk to you later.” You snap before making your way out of the restaurant, but instead of calling for a taxi like you probably should have, you impulsively decide to begin your three mile walk of shame back home.

You’ve been stewing in your own feelings of treachery for two days, and although you're still upset; thoughts of the frizzy haired metalhead haven’t left your mind. If it came down to really having this fantasy you have laid awake many nights thinking about, fulfilled; would you really want it to be with him, or more importantly them? The burning in your lower belly and the need to snap your legs together, gave that answer away fairly quickly.

As you settle onto your couch with your favorite spicy book in hand, the shrill ring of your house phone has you up within seconds. Your heart begins to beat frantically out of your chest at the thought of it being Steve on the other end, you weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive this whole mishap quite yet, even if you haven't stopped daydreaming about it.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out groggy, having not used it for hours as you’ve been cooped up in your apartment, feeling sorry for yourself about something that you were now questioning was as bad as you’ve made it seem.

“Hey.” The voice that comes out over the crackle of the phone speaker isn't Steves but it is familiar to you in the sense that you’d just heard it not even three days ago.

“Eddie?” You question with disbelief.

“Aw, you remembered princess.” You can hear his smug smirk through the red plastic you are now white knuckling.

“What’s up Eddie? Is Steve okay?” You ask, trying to politely move the conversation along.

“I mean he hasn’t eaten for two days and has been sulking in his room if that's what you're wondering.” The new information pulls at your heart strings, you truly didn't think Steve would be too sad over your decision for space; and although what he did wasn't entirely okay, you still wanted nothing more than to run and comfort him.

Eddie takes your silence as an excuse to keep going, “Um, well I was just calling to see if maybe I could come by and talk to you, please?” He breathes heavily into the speaker making you cringe at the loud crackle, you can hear the desperation to fix things in the tone of his voice.

“Yeah sure, we can talk.”

It takes Eddie 20 minutes to get to your apartment after you'd given him your address and safe wishes, which seemed to have taken him by surprise. What was the big deal with telling someone to ‘be safe’?

The knock at your door has your palms clammy, you couldn't deny the idea of seeing Eddie and being alone with him, made you nervous.

Maybe you weren’t as innocent in this as you thought.

“There she is.” The smile that graces the long haired boy’s face along with the rasp in his voice instantly has goosebumps spreading over your heated skin.

“Hi, um c-come in.” You stutter, moving from the doorway, your hand gripped tight on the doorknob in order to close it behind him.

“Nice place.” He says while his eyes roam over the living room, the wide smile never leaves his face until his chocolate orbs find yours.

“Thanks.” You give him a half smile before you're sitting back down on your couch. You bring your slouch sock clad feet up and tuck them underneath you, protectively as if some kind of defense mechanism. Eddie can’t help but think you’re the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

“Sit. So what did you wanna talk about?” Your voice slightly trembles as you motion for the metalhead to sit down in the spot beside you.

“I came here to tell you that Stevie means well, he really would never do anything to hurt you. I swear. I’ve never seen him so upset over someone.” Eddie’s words come out in a jumbled panic as if he’s anxiously trying to get you to see things from another perspective, and before you can get a word in edgewise, he’s continuing. “He just thought it’d be a good idea since me and him used to bang, so I'm familiar, ya know? And he really wanted to make this ‘fantasy’ come true for you.” The way he so casually drops the bomb that him and Steve used to fuck, causes your eyes to grow as wide as saucers.

“Oh fuck! Did you not know that either? Jesus Christ nobody tells me anything, I-Im just gonna shut the fuck up.” He huffs a nervous laugh before running his hands through his brown waves that sit tousled down his mid back.

You wanted to scoff and say yeah, same. But decided against it once you caught a glimpse of his big glassy doe eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just thought because he came to me with the threesome thing and the shit about you watching us fuck around, I-I guess i just thought you had to at least know. I’m- fuck he’s gonna be so pissed at me if you break up with him over this.” Eddie's head falls into his hands before he begins to shake it out of pure disappointment in himself.

“Hey, I'd never break up with someone over their sexual past.” You say before scooting closer to his body and wrapping your arms around his torso to comfort him, the action causes your face to snuggle in close to his leather jacket covered chest that smells like a mixture of musky cologne, weed and cigarette smoke.

“God, you're such a special girl, you know that? I can see why he likes you so much.” Eddie mutters as his hand rubs gently in an up and down motion on your back.

You can’t help but to snuggle in deeper, as his soft touch and low purr of his voice, now lulls you to absolute comfort. You had never felt so safe in any other man's arms other than Steve’s, and the revelations from that fact and the one of Eddie and Steve having already had sex, causes the flames to lick up throughout your body and you already know the answer to whether you want them to be the ones to provide you with this fantasy.

“I wanna do it.” You say without much thought, the words are slightly muffled by Eddie’s jacket but he hears you loud and clear. His eyes widen in surprise as you look up at his face from where your head sits shyly hidden in his chest. Fuck, you were really doing things to him.

“Wanna do what, sweet girl?” He whispers down towards you before moving a stray strand of hair out of your face. He hopes you mean the threesome, but he’s not apposed to fucking you right here on your couch, steve be damned. But he immediately feels guilty at that thought.

“Being with you and Steve at the same time.” You whisper as you blink up at him with a nervous look in your eyes.

“No, no. Say what you really want, princess. Go ahead.” Eddie says back, but this time with a more domineering edge. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip ever so slightly, before he’s rubbing it along your jawline. “You can do it for me, baby. Just say it.”

His face is within inches of yours and you want to kiss him so badly but you also want to give him what he’s asking for.

“I want you and Steve to use me and fuck my holes.” You purr back before bashfully biting at the plump skin of your bottom lip.

Eddie almost chokes on his spit, he was expecting you to say something along the lines of “I want you and Steve to fuck me.” But him and his cock weren’t prepared for “use me and fuck my holes.” Jesus fucking Christ.

“It’s taking everything inside of me to hold back from kissing you right now, angel.” Eddie says as he tries to steady his breathing. “But we’ll save that for later, alright? Call Steve first and then we’ll go from there.” Eddie says before placing a sweet kiss to the top of your head. He stands up and bids you a farewell before awkwardly walking to your front door with a rock hard cock between his legs.

“Hello-” Steve’s hoarse voice croaks out from the other end of the landline.

“Steve, baby? Can we talk?”

You and Steve mutually agreed that your talk would be better to do in person, so he invited you over to the frat house, so you could sit down and talk with him and Eddie. Once you are ready to go, diary in hand. Your excitement from getting to see them, quickly turns to anxious nerves.

This was all so new to you, you wondered if you and Steve's relationship would change? Or how things would be with you and Eddie? What if Steve and Eddie realize they have feelings for each other in the process and leave you in the dust? So many things you never had to think about when this was just your fantasy.

Well you suppose those were all questions you could bring up to them once they were in front of you. You tried your best to not dwell on the unknown, although that was so much easier said than done.

You pull up to the large brick house that sits on a huge grassy lawn. The fraternities greek letter badge sits proudly above the porch. You swallow down your nerves as you grab your bag and head towards the big iron gate that sits wide open, you walk through it leaving yourself no room to hesitate before climbing up the two steps towards the front door.

You knock three times, crossing your arms over your chest when you glanced down and realized how much your cleavage was almost spilling from your shirt.

“Come in!” A voice yells from the other side, making you freeze for a few seconds while a lump forms in your throat at the idea of just walking into someone else’s home. Before you can reach out towards the doorknob, it’s being opened for you and a set of sad, downturned hazel eyes meet yours.

“Hey.” Is all he says before he’s ushering you inside.

Once in, you can’t help but to look around. It’s huge and cleaner then you thought it’d be, considering it houses about a dozen or so guys.

Steve can see the nervousness in your eyes, so he eases it by letting you know he was the only one home and that Eddie would be back any minute now.

“Do you wanna sit in the living room or go up to my room?” Steve asks, as his head slightly perks up with excitement, more so hopeful than anything else.

“Your room is cool.” You say with an awkward nod.

His room was nothing like you’d expected, there were tons of posters all over the walls: cars, bands and naked girls were the theme. You figured it had to do with the excessive masculine facade you had to put on to be part of one of these fraternities.

Steve looks around with you and smiles sheepishly as your eyes meet a poster of two semi naked girls kissing, while one girl has her hand in the other girl's black panties.

You smile in amusement before taking a seat on his big bed, while Steve leans against his wooden desk directly in front of you.

“I-Im so sorry, baby.” He sniffles, his sad eyes melting your heart as he continues. “I promise you, I didn’t go through your diary on purpose, it just fell and when I went to pick it up it was on that page, I-I just couldn’t look away after I seen what was in it, and that’s my fault, a-and I should’ve never went to eddie behind your back. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I just- being without you for these past couple days I realized that I-I love you. And I know we haven't been dating for very long but, I think I’ve known from the moment we stayed up all night on the phone the first very first time, I just knew then that I was gonna fall in love with you.” He unveils, making your breath hitch.

“You love me?” You murmur hesitantly.

“I do. So much, honey.” It’s so sincere, as if he didn’t even have to give it a second thought.

You're up and rushing towards him within seconds, wrapping him up into a big hug. His arms instantly move to the small of your back and before you know it, he’s picking you up. He walks towards the bed, sitting down on the plush mattress before adjusting your legs to straddle his lap.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, baby. These lips, your voice, your beautiful smile. God, I drove myself crazy just thinking about you.” He confesses, and his low husky timber goes straight between your thighs.

“I missed you, too.” You utter as your hands play mindlessly with his brown locks. You look down into his hazel eyes from where you were sat, perched in his lap. “I love you.” The weight that's been removed from your chest with your revelation, feels euphoric. Especially when Steve's lashes flutter and a pretty smile begins to stir on his once saddened face.

Your boyfriend's fingertips dig into your waist as his grip tightens, holding you close to him in fear of losing you again. His desperation, palpable.

“Fuck, you just made me the happiest man alive.” He whispers, a wide smile taking over his face as he snuggles his head, lovingly into your chest.

“Steve?” You whisper back, hands never leaving his fluffy mane.

“What is it, honey?” He asks, his eyes snapping back up to yours with curiosity.

“I wanna do the threesome.” You quickly blurt, before cowering away when you noticed how wide his eyes had gotten.

“Baby, n-no. You don’t have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. You can just keep it as a fantasy. If it’s something you’d like to do in the future, then we can talk about it then. I'm not gonna lose you again.” He sighs, closing the small gap between your bodies by possessively bringing you chest to chest with him, as his grip tightens to a nearly painful level, causing you to whimper.

“I um, I know about you and Eddie.” You admit, feeling his body tense beneath you. The look in his eyes is a mixture of fear and longing.

“He told you?” It comes out sharper than he intended, but that wasn't for Eddie to confess. You were his, he should've been the one to tell you his secrets.

“Trust me, he didn’t mean to. He seemed to be just as in the dark about things as I was.” You tease gently.

Steve’s eyes fill with regret at your words, “I know, and I’m sorry baby. So fucking sorry.” He murmurs into your skin before he’s attacking your chest with kisses.

“I forgive you, Stevie.” You insist, silently trying to work up the nerve to say what you really want to say. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” The boy beneath you scrunches his face up in confusion. You take a shuddering breath before you continue. “You and Eddie together.”

He sighs, eyes slightly darkening before he's smirking up at you. “That get you goin’, pretty girl?”

“Mmhm, I touched myself thinking about it.” Your confession has Steve’s eyes blowing wide with lust.

“Mmm, played with that pretty little pussy to the thought of what? Hm, me getting fucked?” He groans when you can’t help but to grind your now throbbing center against his growing erection.

Before things have a chance to heat up any further, Eddie pops his head in through the doorway, making you and Steve jump and gasp at the intrusion.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Eddie says glumly, “should I uh, go?” He points his thumb behind his shoulder towards the door, but you can clearly see from the look in his eyes that the last thing he wants to do is leave.

“No, c’mere.” You encourage but Eddie hesitates for a moment, before he begins taking a few steps over to you and Steve. He stands right behind you, making you beam at him from over your shoulder.

“Princess over here was just telling me something very interesting.” Steve snickers up at the metalhead, who's looking down at both of you with intense affection.

“Oh yeah? And what was that, pretty boy?” Eddie asks, his eyes never leaving the side of your face.

“She said she touched her tight little cunt while she thought about you fucking me.” Steve’s once hazel eyes are now black and staring you down like a hungry predator.

“That true, sweet thing?” Eddie returns, before taking your chin between his fingers and bringing your face closer towards his, for a better view.

“Yes sir.” It slips out between your lips without much thought, but the men on either side of you groan in satisfaction. Now, you’re able to feel the metalheads hardening cock poke at your lower back.

“Before we start, I um, I brought something.” You admit before hopping off of Steve’s lap and out of the perfect little sandwich they had created on either side of you.

You dig through your bag that you had set down on Steve’s dresser, retrieving the object that brought you to this very moment. You turn back towards the boys, realizing their gaze hasn't left you since you first stood up. You clutch the black leather book to your chest as Steve and Eddie’s eyes follow you with curious mischief.

“Want you to look through this together, so you can, maybe see some things I’d like to try, since we’re crossing one fantasy off the list.” You hold it out for one of them to take, Eddie moves quicker than Steve, eagerly ripping the diary from your hands.

“Hey, she's my girlfriend.” The possessiveness in the honey eyed boy's voice, has you biting at your lip from how hot you find it.

“She’s ours tonight, big boy.” Eddie retorts, and you don’t want to admit how much the word ours, has your tummy swooping with excitement.

Eddie cackles at Steve's face before he’s taking a seat beside him, so close their thighs are touching.

“Let’s see here.” Eddie sings, as he quickly flips through the more boring pages of random writings and doodles. Until a page finally captures his attention. “Ah ha.” He says with a sly grin, as his finger follows after every word he’s reading.

“Being dominated and degraded, huh?” The long haired boy beams up at you from beneath his lashes, as if he were seeing you in a new light.

“Has Stevie ever done any of this stuff?” Eddie asks curiously, no judgment behind his words.

You shake your head no while Steve stays silent, his cheeks pinkening in the process.

“Yeah, baby boy’s more submissive, isn't he? Used to get so hard when I’d boss him around.” Eddie sighs as if in some far off memory.

Steve’s not quite used to talking about being with a man in front of you or any woman, for that matter so his shoulders tense at Eddie’s confession. You quickly ease him by running your hand along his jaw, and up into his hair, before grabbing and tugging harshly, surprising both boys with the abrupt switch.

“Is that true, baby? You like being bossed around?” Steve begins to stammer as his eyes grow glossy with desire.

“Fuck, I’m gonna have a lot of fun with the both of you.” Eddie smirks as he shakes his head in disbelief.

After the boys had taken their time kissing you, and getting you all worked up and whimpering for them. They began taking your clothes off. Both of them moaning when the fact that you hadn’t been wearing a bra or panties was revealed.

Once their gawking and dirty words had stopped, you and Eddie began working on pulling all of Steve’s clothes off, leaving you both stark naked; all the while Eddie was fully dressed in his black and leather.

“Get on your knees, both of you.” He demands, and you and Steve obey with no questions asked; like good little pets. Eddie was so achingly hard from just that thought alone.

You and your boyfriend worked together to get the metalheads belt and jeans undone and down his creamy thighs. His hard cock bobbing out between yours and Steve's face. Your eyes widen at the size, but Steve pays no mind to it; reminding you that they’ve already done this, you're the one that's new here. To your surprise, there was no jealousy in that conclusion.

“Open.” Eddie demands again, leaving you and Steve to submit to his every order, and you both do without any hesitation. Opening up your mouths and lulling your tongues out in the process, leaving Eddie to slap his fat leaking tip against your wet and pink, pillowy muscles.

The long haired boy above you, growls as his eyes take in the sight before him. You and Steve are on your knees for him with your tongues out, allowing him to slap his throbbing cock against them. He’s had his share of threesomes, but none have ever made him feel like this.

Steve finally has enough of the teasing, eagerly wrapping his lips around Eddie’s tip and sucking before he swallows it down to the hilt with no problem. Seeing your boyfriend take Eddie so perfectly, has you grinding your hips against nothing. Desperately wanting to move your hand between your thighs and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Share with your girlfriend Stevie, no need to be greedy. There's enough of me to go around.” Eddie insists, with his signature devilish smirk.

“Shut the fuck up.” Steve retorts, making you laugh at their boyish banter.

Steve looks at you with a bashful smile, before he’s wrapping his hand around Eddie’s shaft and bringing it closer to your awaiting mouth.

“Go ahead, suck his cock, baby.” Steve affirms, as if you needed the encouragement. You wrap your lips around Eddie, hungirly taking him as far back as you could.

You find a steady pace, bobbing your head up and down on him as you twist your hand along the inches you can’t take.

“Oh fuck. That’s a good girl.” Eddie groans, fisting your hair into a ponytail. He takes the bottom of his band tee and sticks it between his teeth, and your eyes flicker up to the trail of hair that leads up to his belly button and over his toned abs. You realize as his whole torso is on display, that he has both of his pink, pebbled nipples pierced.

“You’re both so fucking greedy for this cock, jesus.” Eddie huffs, but he’s the complete opposite of upset or annoyed, fuck no. He’s vibrating, the most excited and turned on he’s probably ever been in his life.

“Open your mouths, hands behind your back.” Another demand you both follow instantly.

Eddie grabs the end of his shaft in his hand and fucks into Steve’s mouth, four thrusts in and he’s removing himself and bringing his cock to your lips. He goes back and forth between your throats, as spit drips off of his dick and into puddles on the floor.

“Up.” He says with a stern vibrato.

“You. lay on the bed with your head upside down, I want it hanging off the edge.” He says, and you make quick work at following his orders.

“Good girl.” He whispers sweetly, before bending down and catching your lips in a dirty, hunger filled kiss.

“Alright, I want you to fuck her wet little cunt while I fuck her throat. How’s that sound, big boy?”

Steve nods his head in agreement, as an excited smile and hungry eyes find your awaiting, pliant body. Your boyfriend climbs over you, nestling himself between your thighs. He brings two fingers between your legs and rubs at your folds, gauging whether or not he needs to get you wetter for him. But to his contentment, you're already soaked and dripping. He grabs his hard, leaking cock and rubs it along your slit before breaching your hole.

“Mmm.” Steve hums in delight, as he reaches the depths of your pussy, so warm and tight.

Eddie begins to slide his cock between your lips, and you're quickly being filled at both ends. You can't help but to relish in it, the fantasy you’ve had for years, playing out before your very eyes, with you as a participant. The thought had you growing wetter and your throat relaxing while both boys pounded into you.

“She takes cock so well, doesn't she?” You hear Steve question above you.

“So fucking good, she’s got my goddamn legs shaking from this tight little throat.” Eddie growls as he thrusts harder with each word. You hear the smacking of their lips, as they both groan and whimper between tongue filled kisses.

“Shit, shit. I gotta stop or I'm gonna come.” Eddie pants, removing himself as quickly as possible.

He couldn't let this be over, yet.

Steve pulls out too, looking to Eddie for his next command.

“Princess wants to watch us mess around, then that's what princess is gonna get.” Eddie says, throwing you a wicked smile, as he moves in closer to Steve. He grabs his cock and fists it before crashing their lips back together.

You move towards the top of the bed, for the perfect view. But also to be out of their way, you didn't want there to be any distractions from this.

They start out kissing and stroking each other's cocks. Their tongues lapping together, sloppily as desperate moans flow through the room.

Your fingers find their way between your thighs, the tips move in a circle over your throbbing bud and you bite at your lip as your eyes never leave the scene in front of you.

Eddie now has Steve on all fours, while the metalhead stands behind him. He falls to his knees, before bringing his tongue to the other boy's rim. He fucks him with it, making Steve mewl all the while his eyes bore into yours. You can tell he’s so turned on; his hair is a mess, his face is flushed and his eyes are glossed over with desire. The long haired boy begins prodding at your boyfriend's hole with his fingers, stretching him out enough to take his cock that is now aching, painfully.

“You ready to give our girl a show, Stevie?” Eddie murmurs into his ear, while his eyes finally take in the image of you, laid out for them; legs spread wide as you touch yourself. He can’t help but want you closer.

“Come help me, baby.” Eddie insists, as he rubs his cock against Steve’s hole.

“Yes, sir.” You purr, crawling across the bed before you're stopping just beside him.

“Such a good girl.” He praises as both boys watch your every movement. “Hold his ass open for me, can you do that, sweetheart?” You nod at his words.

“Yes sir, I can do that.” And you do, grabbing at both of Steve’s plump cheeks and pulling them apart, as the metalhead begins pushing into his tight hole. They both groan in unison as Eddie buries himself inside the pliant boy beneath him.

“Fuck, that looks so good.” You can't help but utter as you stare at the way Steve stretches around Eddie.

“Yeah? Like the way your boyfriend's tight little hole looks getting stuffed with my big cock?” He grunts, his hips speeding up as he fucks Steve with a force that knocks the wooden headboard repeatedly into the wall.

Steve’s drooling and whimpering into the mattress, as his eyes roll back with pleasure. Eddie’s cock has been hitting his prostate dead on and he’s so close to coming.

“I, I'm gonna come.” Steve whines.

“No. You’re. Not.” Eddie growls, as he slowly pulls out of the warm, tight hole that has always taken his cock so perfectly.

“Pretty girl deserves to be fucked too, doesn’t she?” The older boy smirks, slapping the round globe of Steve’s ass.

“Switch places.” Eddie commands.

You bend over, ass up in the air; mimicking the exact position your boyfriend was just in.

“Jesus, you’ve got some real pretty holes, baby.” Eddie cooed, as his thumbs spread you out.

“You ever played with her little asshole, Harrington?” He asks, before spitting a glob right onto your puckered hole.

“Just with my fingers.” Steve admits, bashfully.

“That’s a shame. We’ll have to change that another time, but right now I’m dying to stretch out this little cunt. Fuck, she’s dripping. Just begging to be fucked.” He boasts, then he’s sinking his two middle fingers into your cunt, all the while he rubs his thumb over your spit filled asshole.

He works his fingers inside of you, almost immediately finding your sweet spot, which instantly has you whining and biting at the bed sheets.

“Fuck yeah, so fucking ready for me.” Eddie murmurs under his breath, before he’s removing his fingers and replacing them with his much bigger cock. “Mmm, fuck.” He groans as his head falls back and a sigh of pleasure leaves his parted lips.

Steve sits with his back against the headboard as he watches your bodies move together so effortlessly. He can't take it anymore, so he starts palming at his needy cock as he watches the two people he cares about most, captivate and pleasure each other.

“Get your ass over here, big boy. Come fuck her mouth for me.”

Steve’s moving before the demand fully leaves Eddie’s mouth, making you both giggle at his desperation. “With pleasure.” The honey eyed boy marvels, as he lays down with you between his thighs. His sensitive tip sits just inches from your lips, so you grab it and incase him in your wet mouth as you begin to suck him off with gusto.

They both begin to fuck into you, like they did when this all first started. Your wetness drips down both sets of balls, and Steve can’t take his eyes off of the way you're working his cock in and out of your mouth. Your eyes are watering and spit is dripping from your chin before you take him all the way back into your throat. You shake your head, making him whimper as his eyes roll back.

“Need to feel you, Stevie.” Eddie groans, “help me stretch her little pussy out.” He’s practically begging the pretty boy, and your body slightly tenses at the idea of both of them inside of you, stretching you out together.

“That okay, sweet girl?” Steve asks you, tenderly.

“Please.” Is all you can mewl, as you tighten around Eddie.

“Oh yeah, she’s very okay with it.” Eddie teases, as he brings both palms down harshly slapping at your ass, while he waits for Steve to make his way underneath you.

Finally, he sheethes his cock in right alongside his roommates. Stretching you out to maximum capacity, and you can’t hold back the loud moans and sobs that are ripped from your throat.

Once the sharp pain is gone and you're used to the stretch, they begin snapping their hips in unison. The feeling is so indescribable, as both cocks rub together inside of you. You're all so wet and slippery and both boys are incredibly hard, but they only grow harder as their tips rub together between your walls.

“Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck, want you fill this pussy up with me, baby.” Eddie groans as he talks directly to Steve. His words cause you to clench around them.

“I'm gonna come, please don’t stop. Please don't come yet.” You babble.

“We're not coming until you do, honey.” Steve chokes, trying not to moan and curse as you tighten up even more, pushing their cocks together with force.

Eddie wraps your hair around his knuckles and pulls, causing your head to snap back as your eyes meet his, upside down.

“You gonna come on our cocks? Hm? Make a fucking mess on us.” He encourages.

Both boys' hands fall to your hips, right over each other as they bring you down harder on their dicks, that are so close to exploding.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You squeal as your body begins to jerk and shake with intensity. You come so hard you almost black out, falling onto Steve's chest. He snuggles you in closer, holding you tight as him and Eddie continue to fuck into you. Two sets of expletives fall from their mouths as their cocks twitch against each other and they empty their balls deep inside of you.

You all fall into a heap of tangled limbs, as you and both boys fight to catch your breath. Everyones silent for a few minutes, trying to take in the events that just took place.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two alone.” Eddie mumbles with sorrowful eyes, as if he’d felt like he worn out his welcome.

“No, stay.” You and Steve mutually implore.

“You want me to stay?” He asks, unsure if it was a good idea.

“We want you to stay.”

★ 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

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garoujo · 11 months

Text

NOW PLAYING: ✩ ˛˚ . 𝓓𝓐𝓓𝓓𝓨’𝓢 𝓖𝓘𝓡𝓛 feat. GOJO SATORU!

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ wc: 4.8k! your step dad knows that at the end of the day you’ll always be a daddy’s girl.. you just don’t realise it yourself!

warnings! f!reader, stepcest, noncon!somno (kissing & touching) -> eventual consent (it happens more than once, you wake up during one of them & it escalates to more), stepdad!gojo, age gap, you refer to him as ‘daddy’, this is my submission for @killsaki’s family ties collab, fank u so much starry for letting me join & write this! ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! it’s been a while since i’ve written step daddy!gojo but pls head the warnings! ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა

it’s late, you think aimlessly as you find yourself blinking drowsily at the crappy slasher you’ve wound up watching on the couch in the living room. you’re tired, but you can’t sleep and the more you think about it the more restless you feel as you try to burrow yourself deeper into the plush blanket that’s wrapped around you, comfortable but you still feel cold as you wait—beg for sleep to take you.

another drowned out screen rattles you as it pours into the room and you find yourself pouting before deciding to flick through your phone instead. it’s like you’re caught in a haze as you swipe through your feed, offering the tv a quick glance every so often but you’re not paying enough attention to your surroundings to hear the careful steps behind you.

there’s another scream followed by another sigh from you before you jolt when long arms fall across your shoulders, followed by a smooth voice that steals your entire attention with how much it seems to soothe you.

“oh? you’re up late.” your stepdad gojo drawls as his looming figure drapes over the back of the couch behind you, his chin resting on the top of your head as his crystalline gaze squints at the tv screen before you nudge him off with a huff.

“what the hell, satoru!” you grumble as you turn around to shoot him a frown from over your shoulder, but that only seems to make him meet you with a smirk before he’s rounding the couch to see you clearer. “but yeah, i just cant sleep.”

“you scared?” he’s teasing you, you can tell by the way gojo’s smile twitches wider, sending you a narrowed sort of look beneath the snowy peaks of his hair as he tilts his head at you. but you hate how good he was at it, making you cross your arms as you try to focus back on the movie you were now suddenly so interested in again.

“you’re so annoying.” it’s a half-hearted rebuke, you’re far too tired to think up something witty and you know even if you did, he’d say something even more infuriating.

gojo was always like that with you, he seems to take pleasure in getting to you, prodding you for a reaction and it’s annoying how good he is at doing it. maybe that’s just how he was, the role of father to someone else’s child seemed to come a lot easier to him than it might to others, but you always put that down to the megumi he always spoke about, so that was never an issue. although you’ve never been able to shake the feeling that your stepdad likes teasing you a little more than he does everyone else.

“hm, you need protectin’? ‘ts my job remember.” his honeyed tone brings your tired gaze from your thoughts and back to him before he knocks his hand against your thigh, ushering you along the couch before his lanky body is falling into the spot right next to you.

“i can take care of myself.” you huff as you look away from him again and you hear gojo hum like he’s thinking it over before he breathes out a laugh, letting his palm push under the blankets to smooth across your thigh like some sort of faux attempt to soothe you. the touch lingers longer than you’d like but you swallow it down, he’s always been a little touchy.

“oh? but a sweet thing like you is always first to go.” you hate the way the compliment mixed with the back and forth motion of his hand on your skin feels like it burns you. it’s like something ignites in your skin despite how cold you felt a moment ago and it’s sinful the way your instincts seem to push you closer to him as you seek out more.

your stepdad gojo always ran warm so you’ll blame it on that rather than the heat that’s buzzing along your shoulders and thighs with every swipe of his hand, his fingers squeezing comfortingly at the skin as you make yourself comfortable in his side. despite the teasing, you were always close so the proximity isn’t something that was completely new, although this feeling is.

“nah, it’s always the annoying, handsome ones.” you’re blissfully unaware of your adorable little reply until you hear the snowy haired man next to you chuckle before he’s pulling your legs over his, sending you a look that makes you cast him a sidewards glance before you’re avoiding it all together.

“is that right?” gojo goads, deliberately as he pinches at your thigh a little too hard but just enough to have you kicking your legs before he’s wrapping one of his long arms around your shoulder again, this time to curl you closer into him as his lips rest against your temple. he can feel you grumbling, probably a little embarrassed you just called your stepdad handsome but he’s sure the things going on in his mind right now are a whole lot worse.

“shutup, you’re missing the movie.” but you’re just too adorable for him to ignore.

but your stepdad thinks you’re so pretty when an hour or two later you’re finally asleep — your cheek pressed against his shoulder when his ministrations on your skin mixed with his comforting body heat has finally lulled you.

gojo finds himself wanting to rest there a little longer as he stretches out his neck meanwhile probably the fourth sequel to that shitty movie plays. but he lets his muscles pop before he’s pulling you closer and sighing when he finds his eyes dropping to the press of your chest against his own, broader one. it’s sinful, he knows he shouldn’t deliberately put himself this close to you, not when he’s well aware of your little crush on him — one that he welcomes, maybe due to his own growing affection that stemmed way past that of a father figure at this point.

although despite his own selfish desires to keep you pressed against him all night, he knows you’ll complain tomorrow about the uncomfortable sleeping position and as much as he’d like to use the opportunity to insist that he’s the comfiest, he knows he should let you sleep.

“gotta get you to bed, angel. yeah?” so gojo tries to push himself up from the couch as he whispers to you, carefully as to not rouse you from your sleep but it proves unsuccessful when your brows fall into a frown. your arm round his waist to squeeze yourself closer as your pretty, sleepy feathers tilt perfectly up at him and it’s almost like you’re teasing him as he falls back against the cushions behind him, your lips parted and pouty — like you’re begging for him.

your mom did always complain about how much he spoils you.

he shouldn’t, but it wasn’t uncommon for dads to kiss their daughters goodnight and who is he to skip out on the necessities of his role. so gojo let’s his gaze drop to your lips before his fingers are tracing along the shape of your jawline, holding you there before he’s leaning into kiss you once on the lips as a goodnight and then again because he wants to, because he can.

the kiss is short and sweet but you whimper as he pulls away, pushing yourself closer like you’re asking for more and it’s like his self control seems to snap, string by string at the sight of you so pliant against him. suddenly the man who was considered to be the strongest is nothing but weak at the sight of his own step daughter.

“gotta stop teasing me like this, sweet girl. g’nna make me do something you’ll hate me for.” but gojo leans in again anyway, deliberately this time as his lips end up back on yours for a kiss that’s just as warm although it seems harder. you’re pulled in close and despite the way something in his chest tells him to stop, he won’t—he can’t. he lets his mouth press you open, moving you so easily but still gentle enough not to wake you as he parts your lips, grunting when his tongue finally pushes up against yours and his hands fall to your body once more.

he lets his tongue graze along your own, tasting you deeply until there’s a twitch in his hips and a throb in his cock when his palm falls to your chest, taking a slow handful of your tits before he’s swiping his thumb across the shape of your nipple and growing hungrier when it pulls a whimper from you.

gojo knows he’s too far gone now, but you’re still asleep — his own little step daughter putting all of your trust in your step dad like he isn’t kissing your pliant body right now, squeezing and palming at your breasts in his palms before he’s throwing caution to the wind and trailing under the hem of your shirt instead. your skin feels like silk beneath his hands and the first, real press of your chest is heavenly as he licks into your mouth, wishing he could feel you kissing him back as he pinches and rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

he gives himself a few moments before he pulls away, before he gets carried away and lets his hand fall back to your hips. but it’s like instinct the way it explores the topography of your body — finding the heat of your intimate skin almost too quickly as his lips trail hungrily down your neck.

gojo can feel the sweet press of your pussy through the little shorts you’d opted to wear, he can imagine how it would feel when his tongue would graze through your slick folds but he knows he’d still rather have the real thing, instead he’s left with an infinite void that only seems to make his cravings worse. he rolls your sensitive skin between his teeth before he rubs at your clothed clit with two fingers and the sound it pulls from you is oh so fucking sweet.

“oh, daddy knows what y’need.” you’re so fucking sensitive, he wants nothing more than to hear you cry for your daddy — breathing out sweet little uh-huhs and pleas as he pushes into you but he won’t wake you, not yet. so he’ll keep his movements gentle, light despite the way he can feel you growing warmer, stickier under the press of his thumb when his voice is pressed to your skin and your thighs twitch with every intoxicating flick of his wrist.

you’re close and he’s warm, breathing deep as gojo pushes himself deeper into you — igniting the spit soaked nerves along your skin as he suckles another mark into your neck but just as he goes to toy with the waistband of your shorts, he stops. he swallows deep, harshly as he catches his breath — like he’s just snapped out of a daze before he’s giving you another sweet kiss on the cheek and a look that lasts a little too long before he speaks.

“time for bed, sweet thing.”

but you’ll wake up alone, warm and sticky like you just woke up from a lewd dream with the pulse of a hickey on your throat — tucked up in your bedroom like you didn’t fall asleep on the couch as you mutter out a “daddy?” and you’ll stay unknowing. for now. until he says so.

you’ll have that pretty little dazed, confused look on your face when your soft footsteps make their way to the kitchen and gojo, your stepdad, will be there to meet you like he always is when your mom is on another business trip as he leans over the counter — his head propped up against his fist as he sends you a teasing expression.

“why’re you looking at me like that?”

“hey now, no good morning? you break my heart.” you smile a bit at his words, blame it on your body still waking up but he seems to like that as he pushes himself up from the counter, giving you a little relief from him bothering you as your stepdad opts to putting a cup for you right next to his own on the counter.

“mom will kill you for using so much sugar in your coffee, didn’t she tell you to stop that.”

your words make gojo’s usual smirk stretch along his features as he takes a few languid steps towards you, sending you a half-lidded look over the frames of his glasses before he’s chuckling. “come on now, don’t be like that. i think we’re allowed our own little secrets.” he quips back quickly, letting his palm pat along your shoulders and you think it’s strange the way your skin seems to twitch and tingle at the swift, seemingly innocent touch despite the way you feel it turn your stomach.

but despite the uneasy feeling that you’re not sure you like at all, aswell as the increasing damp spot in your panties most mornings and the uncomfortable heat that only seems to grow and burst in your stomach every time you see him. you still seek him out when you’re tired and he welcomes you with open arms as you curl into him on the couch, it’s only natural to take more when he’s so eager to give, right?

this was torture for your stepdad too after all, gojo wants nothing more than for you to blink up at him as he breaks you open — he wants to feel the stretch of your walls and taste of your slick pussy on his tongue but he’s held himself back. you should be grateful that he’s only settled for playing with you through your clothes when you sleep on his chest, quenching his thirst for you with a few messy, sloppy goodnight kisses.

but you’re feeling particularly restless tonight despite the way you normally slept so well against your stepdads chest — finding your sleep anything but deep as you slip in and out of consciousness uncharacteristically. it always seems to find you again quickly, normally due to the soothing graze of your snowy-haired pillows fingers along the length of your spine or the smooth hum of his voice.

though when you wake next, the last thing you want to do is sleep when you realise your thighs are spread and your step dads lips are on your neck, his hand pushed down the front of your shorts to rub sticky circles into your clit through your panties.

“daddy?” your voice is weak, wound up tight with the way gojo’s pressing the pads of his fingers into you and keeping you in place, but he freezes when he realises you’re awake — readying himself to pull away despite the way your body is begging him to stay. he grunts and his hand works to leave you but you reach for him and pull him back before you tangle your other hand in his hair. “daddy~”

your back feels sticky where it presses against his chest and despite how disgusting it should feel, you’ve never felt warmer as you spread your thighs wider and you lose every sense of right and wrong with his touch. you hook them over his own as his hips press tight against yours from behind, the angle letting you feel the heavy press of his cock against your lower back as he chuckles breathlessly into the crook of your neck.

“oh? well good mornin’ sweet thing. didn’t know you were so greedy f’ me.” gojo’s lips curl when you shudder into him and he takes your new found consciousness as an invitation for him to push through the final layer of your soaked panties, finally allowing himself to pet through your folds as he eases past the thin fabric.

“what—ah! what’re you doing?” it’s filthy, the break in your voice when he groans at the slick he collects under his touch — trailing it up the press of your pussy to circle your clit as you murmur out another sweet cry for your daddy. so sweet, that only makes him press down on the sensitive bud harder, keeping you tight against him as he rubs at you with two fingers and smears a gentle kiss behind your ear.

“don’t try and pretend you weren’t teasing me, ‘ts mean to lie to your daddy.” your body does little to defend you when every swipe of gojo’s fingers has your hips twisting under his touch. “hm, think i’m spoilin’ you too much, ‘s that it?” his movements slow with his words and he thinks it’s adorable the way you hiccup and beg for him to keep going, grinding into the press of his palm as you babble about how you like when he spoils you.

that’s what everyone says, your mom would always tell him to stop babying you but fuck if only she could see you now.

but he hums, with that same teasing demeanour he always has before his movements come to a halt and the look you send him over your shoulder makes his cock twitch as pretty tears gather at your lashes. gojo sucks his lower lip between his teeth, then he leans into give you another affectionate, soothing kiss on the cheek before his fingers are sinking into your pussy.

“mmm, do i treat you well, sweet thing? you’re such a daddy’s girl, ain’t ya?” you feel him smirk against your cheek as he curls his long fingers inside the squeeze of your walls, letting his palm rub against your slick pussy everytime he sinks them deeper into you until you’re shaking filthily in his lap. he quickly finds a pace that makes your toes curl from where they’re hanging over his thighs, your body rocking in time with him as you ride his fingers and you know he fucking loves that when he rewards you with another hickey suckled into your throat.

“yes, yes, y-yes! ‘m daddy’s girl— satoru, please,” you can barely think never mind speak with how perfectly gojo’s pressing into the sweet spots inside of you, your words coming out a jumble of moans and whines. it’s like he’s mapped out your nerves before hand despite the way this has been the first real feel of you. but his fingers are so long that it’s almost too much with how well he seems to pet at your walls, so good that you could spend forever right here.

“oh, then i’m all you need, yeah? your one ‘nd only?” gojo’s words are possessive when they’re buried into the next hickey he sucks into your skin, his tongue hot as it lavs over the raised mark but it only seems to ignite the flames that lick at your spine as your legs shake. your thighs close around his wrist but he only fights to pry you back open so he can watch the way you cream around your stepdads fingers, laughing so fucking infuriatingly when he keeps going until you’re twitching and making his smug smirk stretch even wider.

“so good fo’ me, wish you could see how pretty y’ look like this, princess.” you’re breathing in short, quick pants as the buzz from your orgasm makes you dizzy. but despite that, you still seem to move so easily when you feel your daddy pat at your trembling thighs, urging you to push yourself off his lap and onto the cushion at his side before he’s turning to look at you once more.

“gonna look even better on daddy’s cock though, yeah?” gojo lets his large hands smooth their way up your thighs before he pushes himself up to his knees — easing down the waistband of his sweats to take out his heavy cock as you nod shyly, still reeling from your orgasm as your eyelashes flutter prettily.

you should feel gross with the way you almost drool at the sight of your stepdads cock, someone who’s meant to parent you not fuck you, but you think that shameful part of you already died when you creamed around his fingers. now, you’re only left with the longing to have him sink up into you, warm and long. so he leans down to kiss you greedily, pressing you into the cushions beneath you as your thighs spread for the push of his hips and wrap around him.

“hmmm, so greedy. my pretty baby.” gojo mumbles as he yanks your shirt up to pool around your breasts and the sight makes his cock twitch as he pulls back to give you a pretty look, brushing his hand through the snowy peaks of his hair so you can take in his hypnotising gaze that make you shudder underneath it like you would on a white winter. he presses the blunt tip against the entrance to your pussy and he gives you another teasing grin when he pauses for a few moments, waiting until your lips part to whine at him before they curl around a moan when he sinks into you instead.

but he knows he’s really fucked with the first saccharine squeeze of your walls around him as he breaks you open, watching the way your puffy folds spread for him because he knows he’ll never be able to stop. now he’s had a taste of the pretty little pussy that’s always parading around his home, he wants to keep you all to himself — ruining you for anyone who isn’t your daddy. you won’t need anyone else when he’s here.

“daddy! ‘s too much..” you gasp and it draws gojo in so he can kiss you again, rocking gently into the hug of your pussy until he finally bottoms out with a drawn out, long groan as his hips press flush and tight against your own. but because your step dad has always been careful, caring he gives you time to adjust to the stretch as his mouth twists softly into yours — bathing you in sweet kisses that make you relax before your hands are in his hair and you’re smearing your slick along his pelvis as you whimper for more, please! ‘ts s-so big..

“oh, but y’re so hungry for me.” his words are emphasised by the slow sway of his hips, pressing the length of him along the sweet spots inside of you that he reaches so easily as he pulls away to suck on his lower lip. “see?” he grits again as he presses down onto your stomach and it’s insane the way he suddenly feels deeper — the sharp cut of his stare so intense on the way you take him that you wouldn’t be surprised if he could see through you.

“look at me, angel,” gojo’s lips part ever so softly as his eyes search for yours again “wanna see you when y’re on the end of daddy’s cock,” and he wants to pinch your cheeks when you give him a starry-eyed look.

“wanted this pussy for so long, knew it was fuckin’ made just for me.” his words are hissed from between his teeth as he starts a pace that’s not particularly fast, but it’s heavy enough to have you jolting beneath him as his hands grab at your hips to keep you in place. his words are true after all, he can’t even count the amount of times his sweet little step daughter had him hard — too warm under his clothes despite the way he always seemed to look away before you caught him.

maybe if he’d met your gaze, coaxed you into him and let you catch the way he’d drink you up he’d have had you like this sooner. but gojo thought you to be so untouchable, but now your pussy is squeezing tight around his cock and he’s mouthing at your throat like he’s dreamed and that thought seems to fade away.

but your mind is a mess with how well he’s fucking you — losing yourself in the feeling of your daddy, in the feeling of finally having him close to you as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to meet every wet connection of his hips with needy little grinds of your own. the blunt head of his cock feels like it slides along all of your sweet spots perfectly and you’re not sure if it’s still the lingering aftermath of your orgasm that has you so close already, or the realisation that the man over you is someone who should be anything but.

the reality is gojo’s deliberately dragging the pleasure out of you, rocking his body seamlessly with your own because he’s determined to have you craving him like he will you. he’s grinding his pelvis along your putty clit with every thrust and he doesn’t think he’s ever tasted anything sweeter than the sound of his name on your lips when he’s kissing you once more.

“daddy~ ‘m so close!” you gasp dreamily and your pussy squelches as warmth bursts and tingles across your thighs — the sweet lull your voice seems to have taken making the man over you’s pace stutter as he forces more of his cock into your slick walls.

“oh yeah? can tell, squeezin’ real tight already.” gojo grunts as he pushes his body closer to your own, rutting you into the cushions below you like a wild fucking animal despite the way he feels completely at your mercy. he’s past caring, past holding back when the heavens and the earth have dropped a perfect little thing like you right in his lap like he’s the honoured one.

“you want daddy’s cum, sweet thing?” his hands almost curl into your hips and he swear his lungs quake on his next thrust as the needy coax of your walls tremble around him. he needs you to want him, to beg for him before he crumbles under the weight of his own desire. you offer him another moan, followed by a mantra of sweet little yes daddy’s and uh huhs that only make him greedier, but it’s not enough.

“hm? can’t hear you, gotta be nice ‘nd loud f’ me.”

but despite the way you know your mind should be signalling, ringing for you to stop. you can’t, your lips part and you feel like your body is going to crumble with every one of gojo’s crushing thrusts. “yes, yes! p-please, want your cum, daddy!” you gasp despite the way you shouldn’t but you feel him pet at your cheek so softly that you can’t help the way your body betrays you.

“then don’t hold back on me,” your step dad grunts and you don’t, your pussy throbs around him and he grits his teeth as your cream around his cock. his hips press into yours, snug and tight with the first milking compression that has his huge stature curling over you as he sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck. but he doesn’t stop, he coaxes and fucks you through your orgasm until you’re like putty beneath him, thighs trembling to pull him closer and he hopes the fucking walls remember how pretty you sound when you cry his name.

“only f’ me, sweet girl. yeah?” he asks again and you struggle to stutter out anything coherent with how good you feel, the slight sting of overstimulation making you feel warm as gojo’s breathing becomes laboured and he finally spills hot and thick inside of you. but it’s filthy, when the back and forth stutter of his hips only seeks to push it deeper inside of you, a gooey ring of liquid forming around the base of his cock everytime he draws his hips back before they sink into you with another louder squelch.

he finally stills a few moments later as you whimper at the slight throb between your thighs, pushing gently at his chest to ease him off of you as he gives you a handsome, pink cheeked sort of smirk that you can’t deny makes you feel warm, loved.

“you could’ve atleast woken me up!” you hiss, playfully as you swat at your stepdads chest but he’s quick to take your hand in his before he’s intertwining them, leaning in to press a few kisses along your cheeks until you’re giggling and the infuriating smirk seems to return to his features far too quickly despite the way his softening cock still rests inside of you.

“oh yeah? but you were already so wet you must’ve been dreamin’ of me, sweet girl.”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#cw stepcest #cw somno #cw noncon #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you

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sometimesanalice · 5 months

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Wildest Dreams

Summary: Never in your wildest dreams would you have expected to be waiting at a Naval hangar for a man you’d met two months ago during Fleet Week. Let alone one you’d only known for less than twenty-four hours. (Even if it had been the best sex of your life.)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6k

Warning: fluff, smut, and the return of the summer dress whites (minors dni)

(author's note: this was written as part of @laracrofted's 1989(TV) challenge. It is a prequel to Hey, Sailor, but can be read on its own!)

This has the potential to be the best idea you’ve ever had or the worst.

Although based on the way you kind of want to shimmy out of your too tight skin, you’re starting to think it might be the worst.

You are out of place and out of sorts. There are kids giggling and running around with homemade posters covered in bright neon bubble letters and you aren’t even wearing a bra.

Oh god, what were you thinking?

Never in your wildest dreams would you have expected to be waiting for a man you’d only met two months ago during Fleet Week. Let alone one that you had known for less than twenty-four hours and had sex with within the first two hours of meeting. But you couldn’t think about that too much without your face heating up.

And waiting at Naval Air Station North Island, no less.

Oh, this was a very bad idea.

The happy chatter of excited friends and family of the deployed squadron members, who are due to return within the hour, is bouncing off of the cavernous curved walls of the hangar you’re standing in. Bursts of delighted laughter rippling throughout the space.

And with each passing minute the thumping of your heart pounds a little harder against the walls of your chest. Whether it’s anticipation or apprehension you couldn’t say.

Under normal circumstances the energy would be infectious, the atmosphere around you is bubbly and light, but all it does is make you feel like it is glaringly obvious that you don’t fit in here with the rest of the clusters of families.

That is if your nice yet slightly-too-revealing-to-be-family-friendly dress didn’t already give you away.

The only perk of it at the moment was that the breeze against the bare skin of your exposed back was keeping you from breaking out in an anxious full body sweat in the summer heat.

In your defense, you’d picked this dress out for a reason and had chosen it with a purpose in mind. Even if you were second guessing every decision that has led you here.

Over the last two months, you had changed your mind more frequently than the wind changed direction.

He’d been brought into your life on a high tide of champagne bubbles that had swiftly taken him right back out, leaving a wake of nothing but champagne problems.

Every time you thought about recycling the packet of papers that had taunted you and tempted you in equal parts, you were reminded of the warm brown eyes of the person who had given it to you. And it never failed to set your heart a flutter the same way had when he’d given it to you with that soft, cautiously hopeful smile.

You have the registration form that had gotten you through the heavily secured gate clutched tightly in your hand as if you’re waiting for some uniformed security official to come up to question you then escort you off the base.

Although now it’s so crumbled and creased that you don’t know if they’d even be able to read it.

Worst of all, you had no way to distract your busy mind from all your buzzing thoughts.

They’d taken your phone at the gate, a security measure they’d told you as you watched them tag it with your name and put in a slim cubby for you to collect when you left.

Which might be sooner than you thought, because the longer you stand there waiting and shifting on your feet the more you were fighting the urge to backpedal. To spin on your strappy sandaled feet and hightail it back to your car and drive the legally posted limit only until you made it past those intimidating chain link gates before flooring it, getting as far away from this cheery, happy hanger as quickly as possible.

And yet for whatever reason, your antsy feet and tapping toes stay planted on shiny finish of the industrial cement of the hanger.

This is crazy.

You’d thought it as you slipped on and tied the flimsy straps of your pink ruffled sundress and collected all of your things. Pausing to double check that you had your Driver’s License, Passport, and Social Security card in your purse for the fourth time that day.

This is ridiculous.

You’d thought it as you’d drove along the highway to the Naval base that you had only been to only once a couple of months ago. The sun beaming down on your car with hardly a cloud in the sky. A perfect golden California day, even if your mind was in a hazy fog.

This is foolish.

You’d definitely thought that on loop, like a broken record in your mind, as you’d waited in the long line of cars all done up in window paints and streamers packed with grinning, eager faces all queued up for the same reason.

When you had finally made it to the front of the line, your heart had been pounding away beating a mile a minute. Your palms sweating as you handed over the three-page packet and identification cards to the security working the gates.

The Use of Deadly Force Authorized sign was a stark contrast with the smiles of the officials who greeted you.

You were positive you looked as shifty as you felt. But it seemed the only person who thought you looked like a red flag was you. Because they’d barely given you a second glace as they’d waved you through after checking your paperwork. You had almost blurted out Are you sure?, but managed to keep it together as you waited for the red arms of the barrier gate to lift.

That final hurdle officially out of your hands because you were finally there and soon he’d be here.

During one white wine fueled late night evening on your couch you’d allowed yourself to indulge in those tempting taunting what-ifs.

What-if you went.

What-if you waited.

What-if you met him there.

And in your casual research somewhere between the third and fourth glass of Sauvignon Blanc, before you had scrolled back three years on the base’s official Instagram page and googled the sure-to-be redacted version of the visitor’s map of the base, you’d read that sometimes they’d direct visitors to park in a lot on the edge of the base to be shuttled to the designated homecoming hanger.

Thankfully, there would be no shuttles operating on military efficient timetables for you. Since you’d been directed to a parking lot that sat across from a large hanger decorated with waving and winking banners of bold red, white, and blues.

You couldn’t help release a little sigh of relief knowing that you’d be able to make an easy escape if you needed to.

Because if this was going to take you down, if the sun was going to set on your gleaming gilded what-ifs, at least you could leave with your head held high. Even if your tail would be between your legs.

Just in case, you had built it up in your head.

Just in case, he changed his mind.

Because this was crazy, this was ridiculous, this was foolish. But you didn’t want those memories from two months ago to follow you around like a ghost of what could have been.

You wanted to see what it could be. What you hoped it might become.

You’ve thought about that night a lot.

Flashes of sturdy white twill and toned muscles and a low, raspy voice had kept you up more nights than you were willing to acknowledge. You’d lost time thinking about warm hands and a rich laugh and lips that left hot trails along your body that you still felt like a ley line under your skin.

After the mark beneath your ear had faded, the only proof it all hadn’t been some gold rush dream was the flimsy piece of paper currently grasped in your hand like a lifeline.

Before that night you’d never understood the draw of Fleet Week. It seemed like the type of mess you’d purposely avoided. Nights that left you either with a good story to tell over brunch or in mascara coated tears crumpled like a piece of paper on the ground.

But now, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to think of it without thinking of it and him with only the rosiest of memories.

Your mind wanders as you remember the way he’d made you felt. Of being around him, of tangled up with him. You’re too busy thinking about heated smiles and pretty scars that the sound sneaks up on you.

It starts out as a low rumble that swiftly builds into a roar that shakes you out of that shimmering lavender haze. Cheers break out in the crowd as people flood out of the hanger and onto the tarmac to get a better view.

Looking around you, there are kids pressing their hands to their ears as the squeal and shout in delight. Their faces turning up to the skies as they enthusiastically wave at the aircrafts flying towards the base with perfect precision.

You get as close to the edge of the hanger as you dare. Toeing the line between cracked industrial cement and sundrenched asphalt, still unsure your place in all of this. Not quite ready to fully give yourself up to the swift current of honey hued possibility.

There are at least a dozen jets approaching in sharp triangular and diamond shaped formations. Clusters of four flying in flawless alignment with one another, their shiny bodies stand out in relief against the cloudless blue skies. It’s a gravity defying ballet as the individual groups merge together in impeccable unison to form one large unit.

Your jaw drops open in awe and your heart soars into your throat at the stunningly impressive sight.

They speed impossibly fast overhead and within seconds all that remains are the contrails of their coming and the knowledge that soon they’ll have their feet back on the ground with the rest of you.

The low, thick whomp whomp whomp of large helicopter propellers approaching behind them in the distance like an echo as more and more of the deployed squadron arrive for their homecoming.

You almost can’t hear it over the steady drumbeat of your heartbeat in your ears.

Because he’s back. He’s here.

After two months of wondering and waiting, you’re about to find out.

It’s all happening now.

“It’s her last fling before the ring! Cheers, bitches!”

You didn’t know whether you were impressed or one enthusiastic woo! away from losing it at the amount of puns Amanda, the maid of honor, had been able to come up with for the evening.

To no one’s surprise, tequila shots and champagne were a dangerous combo.

When the bride-to-be had said she wanted to keep things local and have a staycation type girl’s weekend for her bachelorette party, you and your bank account had been thrilled. It wasn’t until you all had left for the hotel all gussied up in your sparkling hot pink finest to head out for dinner that you noticed all the white uniforms dotting the sidewalks and seated out on some of the outdoor terraces.

It was Fleet Week.

You’ve lived in San Diego for almost five years now. And while running into someone in the Navy was commonplace, in both the grocery store and on the dating apps you’d redownloaded a few months ago, Fleet Week was something that you’d always purposely avoided. Opting to stay home and out of the fray.

However, you were coming off of a break up with a man who had slowly sucked all the color from your world. And this weekend was just the thing you needed to let go, to be unabashedly uninhibited, to reclaim your shimmer.

Your shiny pink dress is three inches shorter and your heels two inches taller than anything you’d ever worn before. There had been a brief moment when you’d felt self-conscious stepping into the lobby of the hotel, aware of just how much skin was on display with short hem and the low dip of the back of your dress, until your best friend had given you the loudest wolf-whistle known to mankind sending you into a fit of giggles.

And instead of shying away from the eyes that had been drawn to you in that moment, you sparkled.

You didn’t quite feel like your old self yet, but you were on your way. You liked this version of yourself so much better than the shell of a girl you’d been before. You liked the one who could be bold and brave and bejeweled.

The upscale bar is packed and it’s just the kind of lively atmosphere where tonight’s bad decisions could become tomorrow’s good stories.

It felt less like a club and more like a large stylish living room, with its cozy clusters of oversized chairs and couches. Pockets of the room were cast in a soft lavender light, while the rest was awash in a golden glow from the massive modern chandelier that ran the length of the room. Gleaming brass accents were offset with the warm tones of the wooden paneling that lined the walls. It was soft, lush, and inviting.

The music was good and there was even a small dancefloor, but it wasn’t so loud that you couldn’t enjoy having a conversation with someone without shouting. The bar looked more like a library than a place to get your drinks with its black leather tufted base and dark wooden built-ins displaying shiny bottles like a prized book collection. And the cocktails were stellar.

It was obvious why so many people had ended up here tonight, both civilians and Naval personnel on leave.

“Oh, hello there,” you hear your best friend practically purr, pulling you from your internal debate about another ordering another shot of tequila.

You look over to see her staring at the door where two tall officers have just entered with a devious gleam in her eyes.

The one on the left was just her type, a pretty boy with the kind of megawatt smile that would have orthodontists dying to get a closer look. He looked the cocky kind of confident now, but you knew if your friend made her move she’d have him wrapped around her finger before the bartenders even announce last call.

The man next to him was the taller one of the two and sporting a mustache that might have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but for whatever reason it suited him very well. Especially when it was paired with that easy grin he was currently wearing as he laughed along with something his friend was saying. Even from across the room you could tell he’d be even more attractive up close.

Their tans and the definition of their arms were offset by the crisp whites of their short-sleeved uniforms. And looking at them you could finally understand the appeal of Fleet Week.

Men like that could easily make a girl lose her mind amongst other things.

You had no doubt in your mind that these two in particular would be a hot commodity tonight. There were already quite a few heads turned in their direction to watch as they made their way towards the bar. Appreciative eyes glinting as they take in just how well they both filled out their uniforms.

Another loud woo! from your group of friends pulls your attention back to them in time to see another bottle of champagne, complete with a bright sparkler, being delivered to the table you had all chipped in for the evening.

At this rate, someone was either going to end up on top of a table or on the confetti covered floor.

You chance another look back over your shoulder towards the two men who’d just saddled up to the bar and are met with a pair of mischievous eyes already trained on you.

An electric touch races up along your spine.

You’re still a safe distance far enough away to where you can allow yourself to take him in, fighting the urge to hastily look away and pretend it was an accident that your eyes connected when you had definitely been trying to sneak another peek at them- at him in particular. You see his smile pull to the left and his cheek tick up as you hold his gaze.

He’s less than subtle in the way he lets his eyes drag over the exposed skin of your back and down the line of your legs before letting them settle back on your face. When you shoot him a pointed raise of your eyebrow, that smirk on his face just grows even wider.

It makes your stomach swoop, and even worse, it makes your own lips turn up in an amused smile in response.

An unabashed flirt.

There’s no doubt in your mind he knows exactly what he is doing. You’re sure he has practiced this kind of silent conversation many times. That over the years he has polished his technique to a shiny, smooth finish.

You know nothing good can come from a man in a uniform, but a man in uniform during Fleet Week is a different kind of trouble altogether.

And one who looks like that? Big and broad, with confidence rolling off of him in waves?

No, nothing good could come from it.

Taking one more sweep of his face you turn away from him and opt to sip on some cold water instead.

Your best friend is still making eyes with the man with the dimples, so you start up a conversation with one of the other bridesmaids you don’t know as well as some of the others. She was a sweetheart, but you could tell this wasn’t her usual scene so it felt like you were doing a lot of the heavy lifting for the conversation.

It also didn’t help that you were trying and failing to ignore the way it had felt when he looked at you, like sparks dancing across your skin that you could still feel like a phantom touch.

You’re struggling to come up with a new topic of conversation when cloud of white sequins and rhinestones and tulle bulldozes into you.

“Come get a drink with us,” the bride-to-be declares as she hooks her arm with yours and starts tugging you towards the bar.

You see that your best friend is already a couple steps ahead of the two of you and heading in the same direction to the bar, purpose in every step she takes.

“You need a break from free champagne?” you ask with a grin.

“I want something pink!” she sings.

You laugh at her dedication to the theme, “Ok, let’s get you something pink.”

“Yes, let’s,” she agrees.

As you get closer to the bar, you ignore the pull in your stomach and the gaze of the broad man who lingers in your peripheral vision. It had been heady from a distance you had no clue how you’d fair with it directed at you up close.

You’re not surprised in the least when your best friend passes by the open space at the bar and flounces right up to the officer with the dimples. And you’re even less surprised when she takes the shot that was held loosely in his hand and tosses it back in one go, before running her thumb along the bottom of her lip and giving him a sharp, feline grin. The now shot-less man rises up to the occasion and gives her a matching one of his own, the interest gleaming in his eyes.

However, you are very much shocked when your soon-to-be-wed friend all but shoves you towards the man with the mustache.

Your hands dart out to catch yourself on the bar, but one ends up on his thick forearm instead as he reaches out to steady you. His other hand is braced low on your hip, big and warm. Glancing down you can see that his pinky is very near the hem of your short dress.

You toss her a withering glare over your shoulder, but she’s already bobbling back towards the group very clearly pleased with herself.

As you turn to look up at him, all words escape you and your breath gets caught in your throat.

He’s handsome as hell.

And up close, that uniform has the potential to be even more life ruining than it was from a distance.

It is almost obscene the way it clings to the bulk of him. The sleeves of his shirt were stretched out around his biceps and pulled taut across his chest. His pants look almost molded to his thighs and long legs. It’s almost dizzying just how good-looking he is in it.

And you’re absolutely mortified.

“Hey, Sailor,” you say weakly at an attempt to diffuse the awkwardness of how you’ve come to be pressed against his hard body.

He throws his head back and laughs. It’s low and lush, rich and raspy. And god, do you like the sound of it.

But there’s still a rush anxious energy that courses through you, unsure if he’s laughing at you or the situation you’ve both been literally thrust into. You’re tempted to step back out of his reach, but his fingers tighten the gentlest bit where his hand still sits on your hip keeping you in place.

There’s amusement dancing behind his brown eyes and that smile of his up close is even more devastating. And you can’t help but shoot him a sheepish smile in return.

“That’s one way to make an entrance,” he grins.

“I am so sorry about that,” you say gesturing to the gaggle of giggling girls watching on from the corner of the room. You get your feet righted underneath you and take a half-step back.

And this time he lets you, his pinky grazing the skin of your upper thigh as he does.

“I’m not,” he says, leaning against the shiny black and white marble slab of the bar top, “I was hoping you’d come over here.”

You refuse to let yourself get flushed, but the heat races to your cheeks all the same.

Instead you pivot.

“I feel like I should warn you, she’s going to eat your friend alive,” you say, gesturing to your best friend who is looking every inch the menace you know her to be.

He glances over towards where his friend and yours are talking. His friend’s shot has been replaced and they’re both wearing a pair of dueling smiles. Their conversation too quiet to hear, but you know that tone of hers and what it means.

The good kind or the bad kind it was too early in the evening to say.

You allow yourself a brief moment to admire his profile, your eyes tracing over his cheekbones and jaw, noticing a few scars that dot his sunkissed skin.

He lets out a low chuckle and looks back towards you, “Good. Hangman has been a pain in my ass for years. Serves him right. It’ll be good for his ego.”

“Hangman?” you ask, eyebrows pinching together.

“Oh, right. That’s Jake,” he clarifies, nodding over to his friend, “Hangman is his callsign. Bagman if he’s pissing me off, which is often enough. We’re both Naval aviators.”

Well, that explained the aura of self-assuredness that radiated from the two of them from the very moment you’d seen them.

The uniform was bad enough on its own, but a pilot?

Trouble was definitely too small a word for this man, he’d need a different category created for him altogether.

“Can’t say I’m too mad at him right now though. I wanted to go somewhere more lowkey, but he said ‘pretty girls like pretty places’,” he gives you a slow smile as his eyes drift over you, “Turns out he was right. But don’t tell him that I said that, he’ll be insufferable.”

And then he has the audacity to wink at you.

You absolutely will not be getting tangled up with a pilot. But you were definitely up for a little fun, and decide there is no harm in indulging in some friendly banter.

“So are you going to tell me your callsign or do I have to guess?” you tease.

“It’s Rooster.”

You swallow down the quip that comes to your mind first, and ask instead, “Do you come with a first name, Rooster? Or did the Navy claim that too?”

He has Bradshaw emblazoned on the nametag on his chest, but you’re so curious to find out the answer. You’ve never been so interested collecting breadcrumb pieces of someone before, there’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes you want to know more.

“I’m Bradley,” he grins wider, holding out his hand to you.

You look from him to his big hand and then back to him again, debating on how much you want to give him in return. He lifts a playful eyebrow his hand still outstretched as he waits for your move.

So you put your hand in his and give him your name.

Rooster repeats it back as if he’s testing out the way the syllables and consonants of your name feel in his mouth. And if he’s slow to let go of your hand, you let it slide without a comment.

“Well, since it’s Fleet Week and all, Bradley Rooster Bradshaw, I think would be pretty unpatriotic for me to not buy you a drink as an apology for my friends and for subjecting you that poorly executed line.”

His features take on a very contemplative look as he lets out a low, quiet hmm.

“I don’t know about that,” he deliberates.

“About the drink?” you ask, fully prepared to make a hasty retreat before you make yourself look any more ridiculous than you already did.

“No, about the line,” Rooster says, whiskey smooth, “I think it was pretty effective.”

“Really? That’s all it took, huh?” you laugh, “You must have been stuck on that ship for a while.”

Flagging down the bartender, you order a couple shots of chilled tequila.

You see Bradley reach into his shirt pocket, pulling out a few loose bills to pay. There’s definitely nowhere for a wallet to go in those pants. Sliding in front of him, letting yourself graze up against him just the slightest bit, you tell the bartender to put the shots on your group’s open tab. You can see them still spying on you, so it was the least they could do for a free show.

You spin towards him and rest your elbows on the bartop behind you with a grin. He just smirks and shakes his head at you with a look that you’d almost want to call fond if you’d actually known him for longer than ten minutes.

“So, how long were you deployed? Are you headed back to wherever home is after this weekend is over?” you ask.

“I’m actually stationed here permanently in San Diego,” Bradley says, pausing for a moment before continuing, “But I am headed out for a two-month deployment tomorrow.”

He’s looking at you closely, as if he is trying to gauge your reaction to him showing you his cards so early. Here today, but gone tomorrow.

This open honesty from him makes him even more attractive in your eyes. He’s the type of man who could so easily wreck your plans if you gave him the chance to. And for a split second, you can almost see the end before anything can even begin.

“Well, it��s nice of the city to give you such a nice send-off then,” you say lightly, ignoring the twinge in your stomach.

Thankfully, the bartender returns with the chilled shots, you thank him and then hand Bradley one of the shot glasses cheers-ing him with your own, “To Uncle Sam’s overly inflated defense budget.”

He snorts and watches as you raise the glass to your lips. Feeling bold under the warmth of his gaze, your tongue darts out as you lick the smoked salt off the rim before swallowing down the shot, not breaking eye contact with him once.

You’re beyond delighted when notice the tips of his ears are a little pink as he throws back his own. The heaviness from earlier shifting into a more exciting kind of tension as your gazes bounce off of each other.

Bradley leans a bit into your space as he sets his empty glass on the bartop, “Can I let you in on a secret?”

“Only if it’s a juicy one,” you counter, more than happy to take the bait.

“It wasn’t just the line. Your little tiara thing is doing it for me too,” he says reaching out and adjusting the rhinestone Bridesmaid headband that you’d completely forgotten you were wearing. His thumb skimming over your temple as he withdraws his hand.

You could handle an unabashed flirt, but a charming unabashed flirt whose smile was setting off a flurry of butterflies in your chest was not on the agenda for tonight.

“Do you want to swap, Rooster?” you tease nodding your head towards the white and shiny black-rimmed hat that is sitting snugly on top of his head.

“Nah, I don’t think I could pull it off as well as you do.” He shoots you another wink, one that has your toes curling in your pretty-but-too-tall heels. “Plus, mine is technically government property. They don’t let just anyone wear it, not without earning it.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes dip down to your lips.

The shot of tequila makes you brave enough to contemplate asking just exactly one would have to do to earn a turn wearing his hat, but the two of you are startled out of bubble you had found yourselves in at the sound of a sharp slap.

You peer curiously around Bradley to see Hangman looking equal parts shell-shocked and starry eyed after your best friend as she struts away from him with a swing in her hips, her hair bouncing with each step.

“I should-” your own eyes betray you by slipping down to his parted lips when you look back at him, “I should go check on her.”

“You don’t have to go just because Bagman is an idiot. Let me get you a drink and return the favor. Please,” he says, his big brown eyes asking you to stay.

“No, I really should. Thanks for indulging my friends and for the company, Bradley. Enjoy the rest of Fleet Week.” Before you can overthink it, you lean in a press a kiss to his cheek. Giving him one more smile, one that doesn’t feel as bright as you’d like it to be, you turn and leave.

You hustle to catch up with your friend as she makes her way back to your bedazzled group, “Hey, are you ok? What the hell did he say?”

She waves off your concern with a Cheshire cat grin, “Oh, that man is about to be so obsessed with me.”

Over the next hour it is impossible to keep your eyes from straying back to him. You try to lose yourself to the music on the small dancefloor and in the raunchy girl talk. Every time you dared to take a peek at him, you’d been surprised to see him already looking at you instead of chatting up some other girl.

At one point, he’d even been bold enough to pat the space next to him as an open invitation. You’d simply smiled and shook your head at him, laughing to yourself when he dramatically clutched at his heart in response.

It’s not until a very large bottle of Dom Perignon Brut Rosé is delivered your table, a cheer going up as the bottle service girl discloses who had it sent over, that you’re made to reevaluate your plans for the evening.

The two men are still at the bar, but you don’t miss the satisfied smirk of on your best friend’s face as she helps herself to some of the pink bubbly.

Instead of a glass, you’re offered a threat.

“We all know what she’s doing, but if I see you at brunch tomorrow I’m kicking you out of the wedding,” the bride-to-be cheerfully trills, albeit tipsily, as she presses your clutch into your hand and shoos you away. Officially dismissed from your bridesmaid duties for the remainder of the weekend.

You take the long way around the edge of the room to the bar, giving yourself a minute to debate the pros and cons of what you were planning to do. But as the crowd parts and you see him, still planted in the same place you’d left him, all the bullet-pointed items on your mental list dissolve like sugar in an Old Fashioned at the sight of his warm whiskey brown eyes.

This time it’s no accident in the way you slide up to him.

“Well, Rooster, you’ve got my attention.”

“Good. I like your attention,” he says with an all too pleased grin. “I was worried I was going to have to come join in you over there. The last bachelorette party we ran into kept wanting me to give the bride a lap dance. It looked pretty dire there for me for a moment. You bridesmaids are an intimidating bunch.”

He doesn’t strike you as someone who would shy away from the attention.

“Feral, drunk, horny women aren’t your thing? Or are you just anti lap dance?” you ask with a cheeky tilt of your head.

“Feral and horny women for sure. And I am very pro lap dance, I’ll have you know. I’m just picky about who I give them too. For example, if you were to ask nicely, I’d be more than happy to demonstrate,” he offers, his cheek ticking up on one side.

He made you feel an exhilarating kind of reckless. And if you were only going to get one night with him, you were going to make the most of it.

“That’s a very expensive bottle of champagne that just got delivered to us.”

“Well, it’s Fleet Week after all.”

“We established that earlier tonight,” you note jokingly.

“So we did,” Bradley acknowledges with a dip of his chin. “And in the spirit of Fleet Week, it seemed like a good gesture to further advance and cultivate better civilian and military relations.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” you laugh.

“Ok, funny girl. Tell me then, what do you think Fleet Week is about?” he asks, settling in and leaning his elbow on the bartop.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Getting free drinks and getting laid.”

“Ok, ok. You’ve got me there,” he chuckles. “Can’t say that hasn’t been part of the draw for me in the past.”

“So you admit you’re doing it wrong,” you can’t help but tease him as you throw a thumb over your shoulder towards the $500 bottle of champagne that’s bubbling away in glasses.

“In my defense, Hangman and I went dutch on it,” Rooster says as he puts his hands up in surrender. “Plus, if you remember, I already had a very pretty girl buy me a drink tonight.” His eyes drag over you pointedly, then lets them linger at your mouth again.

“Only the one?” you ask peering up at him.

“The only one I wanted.”

“And how many others have offered?” you ask, stepping even closer. You can feel the heat rolling off of him in waves even in the well airconditioned room.

He weighs his words before answering, “A few.”

A moment passes between the two of you as crystal-clear clarity settles around you.

The old you would have dropped it, but this version of you, the one you liked being around him was ready to press further.

“So the free drinks have been covered,” you say, fingertips tracing up along the veins of his forearm, “And what about getting laid?”

“I’d be more than happy with a phone number and a date lined up for sixty-two days from now,” Rooster says resting a hand low on your back, his thumb skimming along your bare skin. “But if you wanted, I wouldn’t mind showing you just how invested I am in furthering those civilian-military relations.”

The desire in his eyes makes any lingering doubts in your mind evaporate like a marine layer.

“Is that so, Sailor? How civically inclined of you.”

“Lieutenant Commander, actually,” he says with pride as he straightens up to his full height, his chest looking impossibly broader as he does.

“Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw?” you hum, “Now that’s quite a mouthful.”

The low rumble that escapes his chest makes goosebumps erupt across your body.

“You’re trouble,” he murmurs, pulling you closer as he brings his other hand to the curve of your hip.

“Oh please. You handle multimillion-dollar aircrafts for a living, I’m sure you could handle little ol’ me,” you say with a wink.

It’s a challenge, it’s a dare.

“Yeah, I bet I could too,” he rasps, looking at your lips.

He shouldn’t be so easy to like, shouldn’t have you wanting moremoremore when you’ve known him less than two hours.

You bring your hands to his chest, your fingers toying with the little button near the hollow of his throat, “So, you’re shipping out tomorrow…”

You feel as he stiffens slightly under your palms, but his gaze remains steady on you, “Yeah, tomorrow evening. It’s not the greatest of timing, I know.”

“Well then, I guess if there’s a clock we’re working against, we should probably get this show on the road,” you say nodding towards the door.

You watch as the remorse in his eyes is replaced with a mischievous glint. The solemn press of his lips transforming into a slow, knowing smirk.

And you know he’s game.

“You gonna take me home with you, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse with faux contemplation, looking at him from under your mascara coated lashes, “Do I get a tax break if I do?”

“I’d be more than happy to google it in the cab. And if you do, I’ll even fill out the form for you.”

You see a flash of a grin before he pulls you in for a kiss.

His warm hand and callous fingers glide up your back pressing you against his chest as his lips meet yours. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. Electricity racing from where you’re connected to every nerve ending in your body.

You pull away from him all too soon, smiling to yourself when he chases after your lips.

“I have one condition,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Name it,” Bradley says, dropping another lingering kiss to your lips.

“Maybe two,” you concede.

“Name them,” he chuckles lightly.

“You wear a condom.”

“Of course, that’s a given. What else?” He leans back just enough to adjust your sparkly headband from the way it had tilted back on your head.

“And my last request is… that I get to try on your hat.”

“We can definitely make that happen. Anything you want, baby.”

“Well then, if that’s the case, I’m also pretty set on getting to have your cock in my mouth.”

“Jesus Christ.” His hands tighten on your hips, and his brown eyes turn molten.

“I think I’m looking forward to finding out if you’re an officer or a gentleman.”

“I’m definitely both,” Rooster says giving you an all too confident look that promises he has the skill to back up his words, “At least until these dress whites come off.”

You hear another woo! ring out that you know has nothing to do with another delivery of expensive champagne as he takes you by the hand and leads you out of the jewelry box bar.

There are already a few cabs lined up at the rank outside of the hotel. He holds the door open for you, and you slide in giving the driver your address. You’re not sure how Bradley manages to squeeze the bulk of him into the backseat along with you, but you don’t mind the way his thigh presses against yours or the way he rests his heavy hand on your knee or the way his thumb makes maddeningly light circles there.

He laughs when you hold up your phone to him at the flurry of all capitalized and emoji riddled text messages in the group chat that had been created for the evening. And when the driver pulls up to your apartment building, when you try to pull out your credit card, he passes the man a wad of twenties. Way more than the ride cost with a keep the change as he hustles you out of the car.

“Lead the way, baby,” Rooster croons in your ear, his voice low.

And in that moment, you decide you really like Fleet Week.

Who could resist a man in summer whites? Especially when that man is Bradley Bradshaw! Read Part 2 here!

Thank you for reading!

If you missed Hey, Sailor you can catch it HERE!

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Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #1989TGM

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mitsvriii · 4 months

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"Nothing's New"

In which your partner is never going to pay attention to you, because they’re too focused on their dead lover

Bell’s notes: “writer bell goes too far with this fic-” im /j no ones gonna say that, angst powers pls work tho, like im asdlkfjawel;fjsd;jf;lska, i cant write dude, let me like, plan this out in my head before writing nonsense, LIKE BRO, feral over angst LORD, 100k likes and you get part 2 /jjjj, growling i love angst, MWHAHAHA, sorry ely, yuka, mhie, snob, and zee if you read this 😔😔😔, i listened to “IT Girl” while writing this 😋, got carried away with Ayato’s part oopsies, i believe Guizhong for the ladies but whatever 😔😔😔, cut out Wanderer & Childe in the end because i’m TIRED, not proofread

Story details: Ayato lowkey a bitch, scratch that highkey, reader has self-doubt, Neuvilette doesn’t mean to be mean he just ISSS, GUIZHONG DID NOTHING STOP MAKING HER THE ONE IN BLAME IN THESE ZHONGLI SCENARIOS, oh and I couldn’t be bothered with Xiao’s part like a quarter through he’s such a flexible yet straight character, it’s the way you can tell when I got lazy with each part, chance Xiao & Zhongli are gonna be ooc as i’ve never written anything but short headcanons for them before

Characters & Triggers: Ayato, Neuvilette, Xiao, & Zhongli; reader has self-doubt, mention of death, mention of martial neglect

Reader details: female reader in Ayato’s part is explicit. female reader in Neuvilette’s part can be interpreted with the way you read it. the other parts, however, shouldn’t have a specified reader type. reader’s personality, race/ethnicity, height, physical descriptions, or anything of the sort is not mentioned. if anything is let me know and i’ll edit it.

Ayato: No surprise the Yashiro Commissioner doesn’t pay attention to his new wife, the one that he didn’t marry first. You knew that he didn’t love you, and most likely never would because you were, in fact, the second pick. Actually, it was probably in the hundreds based on the amount of marriage arrangement offers Ayato had gotten considering he was one of the biggest figures in Inazuma. It didn’t matter, but he most likely picked you because your clan was a small one to put it lightly, so he most likely chose it, and you, because it wouldn’t be a hassle with the press. But of course, he would choose the person and clan that seemed, “easy”. It hurt seeing some of the people’s sympathetic stares, such as Ayaka’s, Thoma’s, and a few of the older women working in the estate. You got used to the lack of greeting from Ayato when he got off work, the lack of warmth beside you at night. You found it hilarious, although you were hysteric at the time as you had just found out that Ayato was off that day and neglected to see you, that he never, ever laid down in the same bed as you. It doesn’t matter no matter how hard you work around the estate, how long you sit up doing his work, which you soon quit once he yelled at you like a homeless dog, or even the distinct flower you made out of one of Ayato’s favorite sweets that he ignored. Not even a glance at your general direction, either. After a while, you decided to do some digging on his past wife, only to find out that she was in fact near perfect. Perfect reputation, perfect everything, to put it shortly. Shortly after asking Ayaka what happened to her, by pulling the sad, guilty wife card, you found out she was a victim of an assassination attempt that turned into a success. Of course, Ayato and his perfect wife would only be torn apart by death. It was poetic, and it made you sick. So what were you to do but endure the slow torture that you and Ayato’s marriage was? After all, nothing you could do could change how he felt about you.

Neuvillette: The famous hydro dragon, at least to those who knew his ‘secret’. His past lover, unfortunately, died before him, no doubt to his immortality. Of course, you would soon die, maybe in a few decades but, hey, it wasn’t like he would miss you. You could only wait awake at night as Neuvillette went to fix himself his own meal, despite you staying up to cook him one and await for his return from work. It’s not that was the only time he never paid attention to you, after all the man had most likely been grieving his wife for centuries at this point in time. So what were you to do besides stay and watch this man be emotionally constipated around you? Why did he even marry you in the first place, then? It couldn’t be because his past wife resembled you, and it certainly wasn’t because you both acted the same. Was it because he needed someone to cling to? I mean, you weren’t exactly someone who seemed to not fit the criteria of a compassionate co-worker who would comfort Neuvillette in his times of distress. Did Neuvilette only come to you because you were his way of grieving? It would make partial sense, to cling to the nearest piece of comfort to help with the pain of loss. It made you feel like nothing but an object meant for his emotional wants, but in reality, that’s all you ever are and will ever be to him.

Xiao: The famous adeptus long ago, had someone close to him. Shame they fell to waste during the archon wars, along with the other adepti. It was no surprise that everyone familiar with Liyue stories knew about the two of them together, which unfortunately included you. It didn’t pain you that much until your oh-so-loveable boyfriend got distracted by two kids playing with a Xiao lantern and one of her. After that, it only devolved into more. The lack of visits to your room in the inn, the lack of responses whenever you left your little notes for him near your meet-up place, and the extreme lack of thank-you-notes whenever you left Xiao almond tofu. It didn’t matter that you started to skip and completely ignore doing all of these things just to see if he would notice because the adeptus failed to appear in your room just to check in to see if you were okay. This behavior was unlike him, at least in the sense of him completely ignoring you. The only answer you could think of, that logically made sense, of course, was that he was reminded of his past loved one because of the run-in with the lanterns you two had while out in Liyue. So in terms, he seemed to disconnect with you because of the memories of his past significant other? You knew the adepti didn’t die peacefully, you could tell that much from the stories, so it wouldn’t be surprising if that also applied to Xiao’s past lover. There was nothing you could do about it though, because if you knew Xiao, he wouldn’t talk about her to you nor push her aside for you.

Zhongli: Guizhong. Of course, you were familiar with the name, everyone in Liyue was. Everyone might be a stretch considering the visitors and children, but the point’s been made. Morax and Guizhong were close. Close in a sense of possibly having relationship affairs but that was only explicit to you because of the way your lover would glace at glaze lilies. You couldn’t call him your lover, could you? Not with the way he would hum to the glaze lilies, the way his eyes would also drift away from you whenever you talked as you took strolls through Guilu Plains, and the way he would opt to tell stories of specific tales of his time as Morax, ones that included Guizhong in some way. It got to the point where you had to make up tasks that you had to do daily just to get away from the walks you two took, not to hear the different-yet-similar stories of Morax and totally not Guizhong. It was childish of you to be doing so, you had yourself convinced, as you couldn’t blame Guizhong for any of it. She had no part of this besides well, besides being your number one stressor for the past few weeks. It was tiring yet somehow for the sake of not wanting a glare or side-eye from Zhongli about his stories, which you never thought you’d get that tired of hearing, you kept your mouth shut, despite how hard it was. You knew it would only take so much more, though, before you said something about it.

#astronetwrk #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#genshin impact #genshin x reader #xiao x you #xiao x reader #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette x you #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader #ayato x you #ayato x reader #genshin angst #genshin headcannons

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moonsaver · 2 months

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Hello! I don’t know if you write for Aventurine so feel free to ignore this!!! But just, imagine, gifting him home made chocolates/sweets and imagine just how moved he will be. From what we got in the 2.0 story, he would probably be so touched. Would he possible be more clingy? Would he be the type to be distanced-? I feel like he would love the holiday in theory but maybe be very flustered if someone was to approach him qvq

Hello anon, yes i do write for aventurine! Ive written for yandere Aventurine before.. although I can't say I know a whole lot about him, I definitely write for him.

Aventurine seems like the type who's constantly hiding how desperately and miserably clingy he is behind some suave, cool and sly mask he's constantly putting on, and it's not really his fault either, considering the implications of what beng a signoian or whatever could be, along with the fact the mark on his neck seems like it spells "SLAVE". And you know how rough of a life that is.

So getting something gifted to him is usually a two-faced event, like a double edged knife. Originally, he's suspicious, so please don't feel offended. He's all about risks and there's a lot of things he needs to take into account, especially when it comes to romance and getting gifted homemade chocolate and sweets of all things. He accepts it graciously but stays distant from you for a while, taking his time to decide whether it's a risk he really wants to take. He practically disappears from your sights for the next few days, long after Valentine's is over. But don't worry,he returns.

And he returns fabulously. His smile is so vibrant you'd think someone polished his teeth with lemon and detergent. He's extra friendly with you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, flirting, offering to take you out, and all sorts of things. And before you know it – you've been dragged far far away from where you actually were, into some or the other plaza or shopping centre, as he drags you around everywhere. Almost talks your ear off about how great the chocolates were, and his tone may suggest that he's being sarcastic, but he isn't. He does genuinely appreciate the effort.

He doesn't quite spoil you per se, but he buys what he thinks looks good on you. It's his way of showing you he's quite intrigued by you, and wants to take the gamble.

Unfortunately, he still can't help but stay on guard, and stays that way until a few more gifts later. Please be patient with him. His vibrant smile and teasing words may make you think he's alright, but he still harbors suspicion for a while later. But once he's practically confirmed both of you are in a relationship, and that he does really like you, you'll be begging someone to peel him off of you. In a good way, of course.

#moonink #hsr #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #star rail aventurine

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actiniumwrites · 1 year

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𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒

synopsis: in which you friendzone them to protect your feelings, ignorant to the way they feel about you

characters: diluc, xiao, and kaveh x gn! reader (separately)

warnings: angst to fluff, reverse hurt/comfort, , slight swearing (i think), mentions of alcohol/ being drunk, spoilers for kaveh’s backstory, kaveh’s part is actually so long i’m so sorry

notes: got the idea for this out of the blue, but really liked it! i had a lot of fun writing these and would honestly be down to make a part two if you guys want it. also kaveh’s part was written before he was officially released this patch, so if anything is inaccurate, i apologize!

Diluc:

When Diluc had asked you to attend an event at his house in honor of the winery, you hadn’t expected it to be so extravagant. Though, perhaps it was because it was the first time you had ever been to his house. Either way, you were in awe at the sheer luxuriousness everything seemed to possess.

“Wow, I seriously cannot believe you’ve never invited me to your house before,” you tease as your eyes glanced around the room. The dining table was huge and lined with various dishes you didn’t even know existed. Not to mention what the entire house looked like in general. You were too scared to touch anything in fear of it breaking.

“I did invite you over — several times, if you can recall. But according to you, you’re just so busy you never have the time,” the red haired male corrected you as he moved slightly behind you to guide you across the room, shoulders bumping together every so often.

“Well if I had known you were living like this maybe I would’ve made the time,” you joked, intentionally bumping your shoulder into his as you threw a smile toward him. His eyes averted themselves from your face and smiled off into the distance, completely ignoring your jests about his wealth.

The two of you had continued to joke around with each other playfully as he walked you around his house to give you a tour of sorts. You had noticed all the people around as you walked, all laughing and enjoying the delicious food and wine Diluc had provided. Even Kaeya was here, you noted to your own surprise, seemingly catching up with some of the maids.

“Oh, I almost forgot, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Diluc interrupted your moment to observe. His hand moved to the lower half of your back to guide you in the direction of blonde haired woman in maid attire. Your hand shook hers as Diluc introduced her to you, “This is Adelinde, the head housemaid of the winery.”

You smiled and told her your name, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Diluc’s best friend.”

“Oh,” she said strangely, as if you had said something wrong. Almost seamlessly, Adelinde covered up her tone as she spoke again, “Ahem, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Please do enjoy yourselves tonight and let me know if you need anything.”

Diluc cleared his throat and put his hand around your shoulders as you said your goodbyes. Although, the second she was out of your sights, he dropped it, “So, how about some food?”

You hesitated, sensing something was wrong. His smile looked stiff, like it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes. You could almost sense desperation within his tone, like he didn’t want you to start your usual interrogation when you thought something was wrong, “Oh um, sure.”

He walked you over to the table standing next to your side, but didn’t dare to put a hand on you like usual. It wasn’t something you often paid any attention toward, but now it just felt weird — cold even.

“I’ll go grab you some fresh wine from the cellar, take whatever you’d like,” Diluc said quickly before rushing away. Your brow furrowed as you watched him disappear from your sight.

“What’s with the frown?” a silk voice asked. Your eyes snapped up to meet the blue haired man you knew to be Diluc’s brother, Kaeya.

“Long time no see, Kaeya,” you said, turning your attention back to the food as you served yourself a plate. Kaeya grabbed one too and began filling it as well.

“Oh, you should try these, they’re delicious,” he said as he placed a small dessert on your plate, “but don’t tell Diluc I said that. Can’t have him thinking I like his baking or anything.”

He continued as he grabbed himself another glass of wine off the table next to the food, “Anyway, what’s up with the gloom expression? Don’t tell me Diluc hurt your feelings?”

“No,” you grumble. It had been awhile since you had last seen Kaeya. Not that it was on purpose, because honestly, you never had a problem with him like Diluc did. Time just didn’t seem to allow the two of you to meet aside from a few times a year. “If anything, it was the other way around. Problem is, I don’t know what I did.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, Diluc is very fond of y—“

“Kaeya. Leave them alone,” Diluc interrupts with an annoyed look, shooing Kaeya away. Kaeya leaves without a word. A sly expression was on his face, hoping you would catch on to what he was trying to tell you.

Diluc held the bottle of wine in front of him, silently offering you some. You nodded your head and he poured you a glass before making another excuse to walk off again. The same thing seems to happen a few more times before you reach the end of the night. What had started off as a fun event for the two of you to enjoy, seemed to trickle into nothing but misery for the both of you.

The walk home was quiet. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why he had offered to walk you home if he was just going to stay silent the entire time, “You didn’t have to walk me home if you’re just gonna have to walk all the way back, y’know?”

“It’s fine,” he said curtly, not even making eye contact with you, “I have to go to Angel’s Share anyway. There’s some paperwork I have to pick up.”

“Oh.”

It’s silent again for the next ten minutes of the walk. It isn’t until you’re approaching the bridge to the city that you speak up again, “Diluc?”

“Yeah?”

You sighed and stopped walking, “Listen…did I maybe, I don’t know, say or do something to upset you? Because if I did, I’m really sorry and I just want things to not be awkward between us.”

You could tell he was contemplating not answering you by the frustrated expression on his face. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally spoke, still staring somberly off into the distance, “Answer this honestly. What are we? What is this?” His hands gestured between you and him as he spoke. His tone is rushed and there’s bitterness behind it.

“Well, we’re friends…aren’t we?” you carefully asked, almost questioning yourself.

“That’s the problem,” Diluc finally cracked, “I don’t want to be just friends. This entire time I thought that maybe there was something more than that between us…but I suppose I was wrong.”

Your eyes widened and your hands moved to grip tightly around his own before he could walk away from you again, “Why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve told you I felt the same if you had just, I don’t know? Said something about it? How was I supposed to know you had feelings for me?”

“I’m sorry, what? So you do feel the same way?”

You put two and two together and a teasing smiled made it’s way back to your face,“Archons, was this all because I introduced myself as your best friend to Adelinde?”

“What? No, of course not,” Diluc adamantly denied your accusation. He grabbed your hand and began to pull you away while you burst out laughing at the realization, “You’ve had too much to drink.”

“No! I barely drank anything, you liar,” you punched his shoulder, “Admit it, you were upset you got friendzoned and —“

Diluc turned around swiftly, pulled you toward him and placed his lips on yours within a matter of seconds, effectively shutting you up. His fingers interlocked with yours as he pulled away and began to walk you to your house. When you arrived at your doorstep, you turned around and placed one final kiss on his lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” you smiled. Diluc looked away again, failing to resist the smile that tugged at his lips. It was the first time Diluc had been genuinely happy in a long time.

He smiled as he turned away from your house to leave, “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Xiao:

Xiao felt his heart racing when he heard your voice calling his name from somewhere in Liyue. Somewhere he couldn’t pinpoint. There was pain in it, and Xiao hated when you said his name in any way that wasn’t positive.

“Xiao! Please,” he heard you call out again, this time more pained than the last. The sound of your cries echoed in his ears and a feeling of his own pain surrounded his heart.

A few seconds longer and you could’ve ended up dead. It’s all Xiao could think about when he finally made it to you, heavily breathing in and out from how scared he was to lose you.

You were covered in bruises and bathed in blood — whether or not it was your own, he wasn’t sure. Your eyes were half shut and your head was leaned back in relief at the sight of him. Several abyss mages of varying elements lie dead on the ground around you. Your polearm lay amongst them, cracked in half and dented all over.

Xiao spotted your vision a few feet away, anemo like his own. He gathered it quickly alongside your polearm before securing it on him so he could pick you up. Once his arms were wrapped carefully around you, he didn’t hesitate to teleport away and back to the inn.

“Here, lay down,” he spoke curtly. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he moved across the room to fetch his medical supplies. This wasn’t the first time he had to treat your injuries, but it wasn’t often that it was this bad.

Xiao worked quickly with your injuries, it was effortless and he was careful not to hurt you. Unbeknownst to you, his heart was racing out of control the entire time. Not only was there left over anxiety from when you had first called for him, but it had carried over and made itself at home as he worked away at your injuries. There was too much red oozing out of your body and the bruises were only growing.

What if he hadn’t gotten there on time? What if he was only a few seconds later? What if he hadn’t heard you call out for him?

“Archons, I am feeling so much better,” you interrupted his poisonous thoughts. Your leg was lifted into the air as you inspected the bandages wrapped around it and all the bloodied rags that sat beside you on the floor.

Xiao’s eyes hardened for a moment while looking over you, an unreadable expression within them, “Please do not get injured like this again.”

Contrary to his eyes, yours softened and you took his hand in yours, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you, I just—“

“It’s fine,” he cut you off when he began to feel weird, not used to people caring about his feelings. Xiao helped you up and out of the bed, his arms wrapped around yours to keep you stable as he walked you to the bathroom counter to finally change out of your bloodied clothes.

Your face was close to his as you spoke, “No, Xiao, really. I can’t thank you enough for all the times you’ve helped me out and even allowed me to help you. You just mean so much to me and I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.”

‘So lucky to have you as a friend’

It echoed in his mind over and over again, more than the voices of his late yaksha friends. For once, another source of pain had finally outmatched his past.

You didn’t see him how he saw you.

Xiao felt his body go cold at the realization. He remained oddly silent as he helped you to the bathroom, not even bothering to give you a response or so much as a simple nod. As soon as you were actually in the bathroom, he backed up immediately and nodded before mumbling something about needing to take care of some other stuff. He had even disappeared before you could utter a goodbye.

Not returning for hours was something you were used to when it came to Xiao. He wasn’t social at all, and that was something you readily accepted when you first offered to become friends with him — even if he declined over and over again.

But hours turned into days and days turned into a week. Xiao hadn’t returned since that night you were injured.

You weren’t sure what happened to him. Maybe he was hurt while out protecting, or maybe he was just in one of those weird social slumps again. But when Xiao finally ran into you one day, it was undeniably awkward between the two of you.

“Xiao?” you urgently called out to him, a mix of worry and shock in your voice, “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied bluntly, eyes barely looking at yours. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

You squinted your eyes, analyzing him carefully, “That’s it? I haven’t seen you for a week! I get injured and then all of the sudden you just freak out and leave? It doesn’t make any sense. Listen, if something happened, you can tell—“

“Nothing happened. I said I’m fine,” he cut you off before turning his body and grabbing his polearm, ready to teleport off like he always did. You quickly grabbed his arm before he could though, a tight grip that wasn’t painful but made sure he couldn’t escape.

“Let go.”

“No.”

“Ugh, could you stop holding my hand like that.”

“Huh?” Your phase morphed into shock, confused as to why he suddenly cared about you holding his hand. You’d done it in the past, so it wasn’t like it was anything new to him. Besides, you were always careful not to do anything to freak him out.

“If we are just friends, then I do not want you holding my hand like that,” Xiao said before pulling his hand from yours with a harsh sigh.

“Wait, what?” you asked quickly before he could leave, “What does this have to do with us being friends?”

Xiao stared blankly at you for a few seconds, like he was contemplating whether or not he should speak again, until finally, he confessed, “The other day…you thanked me for being such a good friend. That is not what I want.”

A pang hit your chest and a tiny prick rippled behind your eyes at his confession, “You don’t want to be friends anymore?”

“Huh? Why would you think such idiotic things? No— I mean yes, I do want to be your friend. But I do not want to be…just friends,” Xiao explained. His cheeks were beginning to turn red and his eyes averted even more. He was nervous, you finally realized.

“You…you have feelings for me? Xiao, you should’ve told me. Avoiding me for a week straight wasn’t cool, you know?”

Xiao nods and crosses his arms, seemingly unsatisfied with your answer until you added on, “I have feelings for you too. I really like you, Xiao. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were just a friend, but I also didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or scare you off or something.”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper. His hand twitched before it quietly reached for your own and took it in his. His grip was firm, like he was scared you would leave.

“Xiao?” You grabbed his attention when you noticed his eyes falter, like he still couldn’t quite grasp the reality of your feelings.

“Yes?”

“I really like you, okay? I don’t want you to ever think otherwise.”

Kaveh:

“Kaveh! Look at this!” your smile lit up as you dragged Kaveh toward a merchant selling various little trinkets. Kaveh willingly followed, idiotically smiling behind you at your childlike excitement. His hand tightly gripped around yours to ensure you wouldn’t go too far or get separated from him.

The two of you had decided to take a greatly needed break after working for hours upon hours each day for the past two weeks on a shiny new blueprint for a brand new Akademiya research center in the desert. The complications of what the research required versus the heat in the desert and its effect on the lab materials was making it difficult to come up with a practical, yet complex enough lab for the researchers. The headache it had brought upon the two of you was no joke, and you had finally realized that a break was the only thing that would get you through the block you were collectively stuck in.

“Hello, dears,” the old woman spoke gently, a bright smile on her face that perfectly creased her eyes. She had an immensely warm aura to her and you couldn’t help but match her smile. Kaveh glanced to you, a small smile gracing his own face as his cheeks turned slightly pink. He couldn’t help it after he saw how good you looked today.

“So,” you started, eyes bouncing around to each and every item she had to sell, “How long has your shop been open? Everything here looks so beautiful!”

“Oh, why thank you, dear! It’s been open for nearly two decades now. It is indeed strange to see how much time has passed,” she answered happily, reminiscing on the early days of her shop. She had told you how she opened it with her husband, but how he had long since passed, to which Kaveh and you had offered your respects.

Your eyes danced over all the trinkets again, but you couldn’t help but notice the little figurines that looked like creatures from your childhood. You couldn’t quite place where you knew them from, but you picked it up regardless and fidgeted with it before turning to Kaveh, “I think I’m gonna get this one, what do you think?”

“It’s cute,” he said with a gentle smile, admiring the little blue plant like figure in your hand, “I think I’ll get one in red.”

You finished paying the kind woman for your purchases and thanked her dearly once the two of you were done. The conversation had continued a little while afterward, with both you and Kaveh intrigued in the stories she kindly shared with you.

The sun was beginning to near its setting time, you noticed. The blues were fading to oranges and reds and the air was beginning to get a little colder, signaling the night was on its way.

“Thank you again,” you told her, “These are really nice, I’ll be sure to place them in my workroom so I can see it everyday!”

“Oh, that’s awfully kind of you, dear. I must say, I admire the way you treat everyone as your friend. It’s truly a rare quality to find in someone these days,” she gushed.

“Thank you! I really just try to make everyone feel comfortable and welcome,” you explained before you said your goodbyes. The woman said her goodbyes too, telling the two of you to visit her again sometime soon and tell her all about the architectural work you guys do.

Kaveh nearly stopped in his tracks as he processed the conversation the two of you just had. You hadn’t even caught the hesitation in his voice or the sudden change in his mood.

You treat everyone like that?

“Ugh, she was so nice, wasn’t she?” you rambled, but Kaveh was only half listening. Not that you had noticed that either.

“Oh, uh, yeah!” he blurted out, not entirely sure that he had even heard you correctly. His eyes followed the pattern of his shoes pressing against the floor as he swung the bag next to him back and forth, lost in thought. You didn’t question him once.

It was quiet for the rest of the walk aside from you announcing that you were tired and were going to check in for the night. Kaveh had agreed and walked you home all while hoping that you wouldn’t notice his sudden quietness.

If Kaveh was being honest, his brain felt like it was spiraling out of control.

One moment he’s walking around with you all day, enjoying his time off. And the next, he can’t stop replaying a silly conversation with an old woman who he barely knew.

The worst part is, he couldn’t help but take it personally. Being treated like he was on a pedestal and then having it ripped away is something Kaveh is used to, but he never thought he would have to go through it with you.

You made him feel special, like one of a kind. The way your eyes always lit up so brightly when you greeted him at work everyday. The way you hugged him when you were feeling down and no one else. The way you always treated him to food and drinks without ever asking him to pay you back because you knew he was struggling — and not once did you ever make him feel bad about it. The way you would jump to hold his hand when you got excited about something or when you were scared when lightning would strike.

You never did any of those things with anyone else. But all this time, you made everyone feel like they were your friend, like they were special in their own way. For all he knew, you did little things like that with everyone and made them feel like one of a kind too. Maybe Kaveh was nothing, he thought, maybe he was really just like everyone else. Just your friend and nothing more.

Kaveh bowed his head to his chest when he arrived home, his hand leaned forward to support himself as he felt the tears coming on. Being emotional or overdramatic was something Alhaitham had always criticized him for, but you? You always taught him to embrace it and let what he was feeling out. You had helped him with so much of his life and moving on toward bigger and better things, but now he couldn’t help but feel bitterness in his heart.

The keys in the blonde’s hand returned back to his pocket almost immediately after retrieving them. His palm dragged down the gray wall of Alhaitham’s house and back to his side. Kaveh couldn’t bear to enter his own home, not at this hour with such painful thoughts in his mind. Alhaitham would probably nag him anyway, and he really didn’t feel like dealing with his cruel words tonight — and Kaveh never liked when they were about you. You didn’t deserve that, even if it was just a joke.

And so he returned to the tavern once more in his life. Drinking away his problems was unhealthy, you had told him, but right now he didn’t care. You weren’t here and there was no one around to stop him from throwing back drink after drink. It had been a long time since Kaveh had been truly drunk, but today was enough to turn him away from sobriety.

“Kaveh. Get up.” A voice echoed painfully in his ears.

“[Name]?” he mumbled out incoherently as he blindly reached toward the figure in front of him. Their hand swatted his away before swooping under to pick him up. Kaveh mumbled your name a few more times, desperately trying to figure out what was happening.

“Why are you at the Tavern, Kaveh? Have you not learned your lesson about drinking?”

Oh. That’s who it was. Kaveh should have known by the sharpness in the voice or the annoying familiarity it held.

“Alhaitham? Get off of me,” he tried pushing the Scribe away. Alhaitham didn’t budge as he slammed a few bills on the table and carried Kaveh out of the Tavern. Lambad waved him off, but thanked him for taking care of the architect.

Your name continued to slur from his mouth, blending together into what almost sounded like gibberish. Not to mention the near beating Alhaitham had endured as he carried Kaveh around Sumeru.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t expected a knock at your door at nearly two in the morning.

“Alhaitham? What’s going on? Why do you have Kaveh?” you quickly questioned. Alhaitham shoved Kaveh toward you, a pained groan falling from his lips as he fell into you. The Scribe explained the situation to you. How he had never seen Kaveh come home that night, but later found him at Lambad’s Tavern drinking himself to death as he cried to the sound of your name.

You could only muster a silent nod out, confused but entirely willing to take care of Kaveh. You cared a lot for him after all. Alhaitham had shown himself out afterward, telling you to drop him back off tomorrow so he won’t bother you too much with all his whining. You breathed out a strained laugh and then shut the door before you turned your attention back to Kaveh and helped him to your couch.

“Kaveh?” you asked gently as you tucked a blanket over his shivering body. Teary red eyes stared back at you blankly, refusing to answer. You sighed and then nodded, accepting he may not have been willing to tell you anything. And although you had never outright admitted it, drunk Kaveh was not someone you enjoyed dealing with, “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you.”

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t help me anyway,” he scoffed and turned away like a child who just got told they couldn’t have their favorite toy. You wanted to say your patience was wearing thin, but honestly, you could never truly be mad at Kaveh.

“Kaveh.”

It was silent for a moment. You could only see about half of Kaveh’s face as he buried the other half in the side of the couch with his hair covering parts of his eyes. The quiver of his lip, however, was not amiss to you. Neither was the quiet sniffle or the tears that gently slid down his face.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered to you, voice cracking as a hand quickly moved to his mouth to muffle his cries. He hoped you didn’t hear, but he knew you weren’t stupid.

“It’s not nothing. You’re hurt, Kaveh,” you rubbed his back. Kaveh leaned into your touch and brought his head up to meet your eyes.

Teary eyes stared into yours and he sighed before speaking, giving into you like he wished he always could have, “I thought I was more than just a friend to you. But I was stupid and I realized today that I’m not any more special than anyone else. You treat me just like you treat everyone else because you’re so kind and caring and— Archons, I am so stupid to believe that we were ever more than that.”

Kaveh paused before he spoke again, voice shakier than before, “I really don’t want you to leave, but I get it if you want to or if you don’t want to be friends anymo—”

Your lips were on his before he could finish his sentence. When you pulled back, you noticed his eyes widened like he had sobered up all at once, “You are special to me, Kaveh. I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t.”

Kaveh smiled as a few more tears spilled out of his eyes, “You really mean it?”

“With my whole heart.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #diluc #xiao #kaveh #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #kaveh x y/n

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bloodynereid · 2 months

Text

Navy Blue Ink

part 2

pairing: major john 'bucky' egan x fem! reader

tw: some angst, mentions of death, war, swearing, mentions of alcohol, the usual stuff idk it's sort of fluffy but also not really, both think it's unrequited love/platonic love (they're dumbasses (affectionate)), dogs??

description: when john actually sets it up right.

a/n: yeah idk something possessed me to write this, i was lying in my bathtub this morning and was like yup need to write this ASAP. apologies if john is sort of ooc, i haven't written for him before and i haven't written in a while so yeah! also i have so many requests atm but i decided to ignore all of those to write this so enjoy me procrastinating things i actually have to do. OH and obv this is about the show's characters not the real people. enjoy <3

You sat at your little desk at the edge of your flat, contemplating how to start the letter… again. Pieces of balled up paper lay littered around you. It was almost comedic how much time you had spent trying to write a simple little letter. But it wasn’t that simple was it?

You were writing to your childhood best friend, someone you had basically been in love with your entire life. Major John Egan, Bucky, went off to fight and you were left with a large gaping hole in your life.

Sure, it was horrible when you saw him kissing, dancing and singing to other girls… probably doing more than that. But he always came back to you.

One guarantee that war had was that men don’t always come back.

So you had put off writing letters to him ever since he swung by your house to drop off the address for his next station all that time ago. You were a different person now, you had a job, a flat and a husky you had decided to name Ghost. You were also sadder, war had a way of taking a toll on everyone it touched.

But this morning you had decided not to put it off any longer. The decision came to fruition as you were lying in the bathtub, trying to soak away your sorrows. That was the moment when you said fuck it, got out of the bathtub, grabbed a robe and sat down at your desk.

You took a deep breath and dipped your pen into the navy blue ink pot. Your hand shook slightly as the pen met paper and words started to flow.

A few hours later, you woke up suddenly from a nap and instantly ran over to your desk and quickly scribbled a short note, putting a picture into an envelope and running to post the second letter before it was too late.

John felt a wave of sadness and defeat wash over him when nothing came for him in the mail call. It was stupid. He urged the emotion away and ran a hand through his hair. Be a man. You don’t need a fucking letter.

He watched as Buck leaned against one of the chests of drawers with a stupid smile on his face. Envy seeped through his pores. He wanted that. Whatever Bucky was feeling when he read his letter from Marge.

Fuck this. John needed a glass of strong whiskey right the fuck now. His throat almost ached for that sweet burn.

“Major! I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize these two were for you Bucky.” John’s mouth fell open as he stood up and quickly ambled over to see that there were in fact two letters addressed to him.

“Thanks.”

“Of course, Major.” John delicately took the papers and ignored Buck’s look of confusion as he gingerly cradled the letters to his chest and sat back down on the uncomfortable wooden chair.

There was no mistake that these were for him. Major John Egan was written in careful and delicate cursive, although on one of the letters the name looked more rushed than on the other.

He carefully tore open the first letter, the smell of woodsy perfume suddenly permeated his senses. A perfume he knew well. Y/N.

John could hardly believe it. She actually wrote to him. Nothing for months and then this. He pulled out the cream paper and carefully unfolded it.

Dear Bucky,

Twentieth time is the charm I guess. How are you? I have no idea how you’re supposed to write these things, maybe that’s why it took me so long to write to you.

God, I miss you John. I know that’s so stupid to say but I miss my best friend. I am truly sorry that I didn’t send you a letter sooner. I’m sure you’re missing me terribly as well and I have just been a cruel human being by not sending you letters.

I guess I didn’t send anything because I didn’t know what to say. I finally decided to just write a letter this morning while in the bathtub. No, don’t you dare smirk John it wasn’t like that. My ma might just murder me for being so unladylike but I can’t bring myself to start writing yet another letter that will just end up crumpled on my floor so you are getting the truth and nothing but the truth, Major. So yes I concede I was thinking about you in the bathtub.

Anyways, how's Buck? I remember you telling me about him during your visit so I thought I might mention it. You two seemed to be getting close and I’m glad you have someone out there to support you when I can’t. He can’t take the title of best friend though, that’s reserved for me!

What else? Well… I got a job and a dog! And I moved out. I now live in this tiny little flat (it’s very charming so don’t start scrunching your face up like you always do) and drink endless amounts of coffee. You got me hooked. What can I say?

I don’t know what else to say other than stay safe. I don’t think I could bear it if you died, Bucky. Maybe you already have and I just don’t know, so I’m hoping beyond hope that this letter reaches you. Remember that I love you always, you idiotic man.

Your best friend obviously,

Y/N L/N

John felt his eyes starting to sting. He had been so preoccupied with the war that he had also forgotten to write to her. The girl who had stolen his heart at age six when she threw mud at him when they were playing in the creek. His little angel who had just brought some light back into his life.

A smile twitched on his face, she was still his girl. And she said she loved him! Probably not the way he loved her but still, he would take anything she was willing to give him.

“Bucky?” The rasp of Buck’s voice shook him out of his reverie and he looked up to see his friend looking at him with a question in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Who’s the letter from?”

“None of your business, Buck.” John says with an easy smirk falling on his face, a little spark in his soul seemed to reignite, he missed you and now at least he knew you missed him too.

“Jesus, come on. Who the hell is writing to you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“John…”

“It’s from Y/N.” Buck’s eyebrows raised in response and John outright laughed at how surprised he looked. “She asked how you are.”

“Y/N? Is she the one-”

“Yes, now shut up. I still have another letter to read.” Buck laughed and raised his arms in defense before turning back to his own letter. He was glad his best friend had that sparkle back in his eyes, it had been missing for too damn long.

John placed the letter back into the envelope and grabbed the hastily addressed one. He was surprised to see that there were two things in this one. Pulling out the letter he quickly read the words before his jaw dropped.

Dear Bucky,

I completely forgot to attach a picture to the last letter, since I’m assuming you want to know what I look like now.

Anyways here is a picture of me and Ghost, the love of my life.

- Y/N

John carefully tipped the letter to the side and out fell a picture into his outstretched hand. And it was you, but also not you. You looked so much older and there was a hint of melancholy in your eyes but there was still that distinct bright smile on your face. Your arms were encased around a large husky with eyes that were almost as blue as Buck’s.

It was wrong but he felt a pang of jealousy. God he wished he was in that dog’s place.

yeah... i'm obsessed with all the men in mota. i think i have a problem

part 2

#masters of the air #john egan #john bucky egan #john egan x reader #john bucky egan x reader #mota #mota fanfic #mota spoilers #buck cleven #gale cleven #harry crosby #bucky egan #masters of the air fic #masters of the air x reader #maria writes

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year

Text

Secret Admirer

Javier Peña x f!Reader - Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: It's Valentine's Day. Which means it's time to take a chance on your workplace crush, Agent Javier Peña.

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Season 1 (ish), US Embassy, yearning, secret admirer, confrontation, drinking and smoking (real brief), smut, protected PIV sex, dash of angst and fluff

A/N: Yeeehaw, this was written for a valentines day exchange SOOOO Happy Valentine's Day to @typingcorgi 💌 This one is for you, I hope you like it!!!

The papers cradled in your arm dig into the sticky crease of your elbow. Your fingertips part the thick stack of faxes and run along the crisp edge of an envelope hidden inside. A bass drum starts thudding in your chest and heat creeps up your neck.

One last peek over your shoulder at the empty, sterile mailroom gives you permission to do it. You slip the red envelope out from its hiding place and shove it into the cubby labeled JAVIER PEÑA.

The shuffle of approaching footsteps sends your heart into an outright sprint.

You scurry over to the fax machine and pinch the paperclip from the first fax, then slide the papers into the tray. As you punch the outgoing fax number into the machine, the footfalls grow closer, and soon start thudding against the shiny white linoleum of the mailroom.

The low rumble of conversation between two men grows more distinct. You recognize their voices, but keep your eyes glued to the papers being sucked through the gears of the fax machine.

“We’re gonna get a bottle of wine, candlelit dinner, put on some Marvin Gaye to set the mood,” Steve Murphy says, “Should probably get some flowers for her or somethin’, huh?”

Javier Peña hums in response.

They make their way over to the mailboxes. You stand there and try to blend into your surroundings as you wait for a fax receipt. The sound of them sorting the contents of their mail makes your stomach churn.

“What’s that?” Steve asks as they start to walk away.

“Let’s see,” Javier murmurs, then his footsteps come to a halt as he opens the envelope and he hums with curiosity.

Steve stops, too, then chuckles, “Is that a fucking valentine?��

“Looks like it,” Javier mumbles, then directs his voice at you and says your name.

You stop breathing and clench your eyes shut, then open them and turn around, trying your best to keep your face neutral, “What?”

He holds up the unsealed red envelope and its folded up white contents between two fingers, “Did you see who left this?”

You meet his dark brown eyes for a few devastating moments before dropping your gaze to the stack of faxes in your white-knuckle grip. All the moisture from your mouth evaporates. You clear your throat and shake your head, “No, sorry. I just got here.”

“A secret admirer?” Murphy’s lips curl into an amused grin and he raises an eyebrow at Javier.

You take another quick glance at the duo and realize Javier is narrowing his eyes at you, jaw working back and forth in subtle movements. Your skin burns and twists under his examination.

He breaks his laser focus and looks to Steve with a shrug, “Guess so.”

The fax machine roars to life behind you and starts printing. You spin on your heel towards the noise, and the men start off the way they came. Your hands are shaking when you go to grab the confirmation.

—

The clack clack clack of your typewriter ricochets through the empty halls of the United States Embassy. Although you can’t see it from your desk, you know the sun outside is sinking below the horizon and giving way to the inky black of nighttime.

Without Ambassador Noonan there to pull you into meetings for transcription, or assign you urgent outgoing faxes, or ask you to run any other number of errands she deems important, you’re able to perform the more “menial” of your clerical work. You sift through the stacks of papers at the corner of your desk, each one containing hurried handwriting scrawled by Noonan or one of her many Agents, trying to decipher their contents and transfer them into a more legible print.

Footsteps sound from down the hall, but you’re too busy squinting at a puzzling clusterfuck of scribbles to pay it any mind. It’s not until your desk creaks under the weight of Javier leaning back against it that you notice he’s there.

With a jump, you clutch your blouse over your pounding heart and gasp, “Jesus fu—Hi, Agent Peña.”

He comes to rest just inches away from your chair, arms crossed over his chest as he frowns down at you. Dangling between two of his knuckles is the red envelope you left in his mailbox earlier. Adrenaline pumps thick and hot through your veins.

Your hands feel numb as you meet his gaze and manage to ask, “Can I help you with something?”

His jaw cocks to the side and he raises an eyebrow at you, then tosses the red envelope onto your desk, “What’s this?”

“I—I—” you shake your head and widen your eyes, glancing between him and the letter.

“Don’t play dumb,” he interjects.

You swallow hard and hold your eyes steady on his as they bore into you. It’s a standoff. You don’t even dare to breathe. The silence is deafening.

Javier breaks it as he clears his throat and picks the creamy white paper up off your desk, then unfolds it. Your stomach drops to the floor.

He reads it aloud in a gravelly purr:

“Oh, how I long to devour you. To unhinge my jaw And swallow you whole. Do you feel it too? Do you ache with hunger when I’m near? When I meet your starving eyes, I know.”

Your eyes stay trained on his as he peers over the paper at you like he expects you to say something. But you don’t. Your skin buzzes electric when he rolls his tongue against his pouty lips, along the edge of his dark mustache, then drags his gaze down the length of you.

Javier sets the paper back onto your desk, taking a look around before he leans in and murmurs, “I do. I know.”

Then he digs into the pocket of his tan suit pocket and takes out a folded slip of paper. He pulls it away just as you go to reach for it. When your fingers curl back and you blink up at him in question, he searches your face, “This stays between us, ok?”

“Of course,” you nod.

His throat rumbles, eyes flick down to your lips for a moment, then he extends the paper to you again. This time when you go to take it, he lets it slide out from between his fingers into yours.

“Come by when you’re done here,” he says, more of a demand than a request.

“I will,” you try to suppress the grin stretching across your lips.

Javier taps two fingers against your desk, then pushes off it and saunters back down the hallway, giving you a quick backwards glance before turning the corner.

You look around to make sure no one is watching, then unfold the note, revealing an address written in his angular, messy script. Below this, it reads:

Starved.

—

Your knuckles rap two quick knocks against the door before Javier swings it open. His darkened gaze slides down your body like molasses as he steps back and lets you enter the apartment. The scent of his cologne wafts into your nose as you pass him. It’s light and crisp, clean smelling, contrasting his whiskey breath.

You slide out of your heels and set your purse onto the ground, then study the dwelling with curiosity, dropping down two steps into the living room on your way to a leather couch. The walls are painted a cream color, pastel green and pink spliced here and there. It doesn’t seem to represent Javier at all. You figure the apartment was furnished by the Embassy, like yours. Cigarette smoke hangs in the air like a dense fog. It’s tediously quiet.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks, striding over to a stand-alone dry bar, which hosts a variety of amber colored liquors.

“Sure,” you answer as you sit down on the couch, smoothing out the black dress you changed into before walking over here.

Javier doesn’t ask what you want to drink. He just pours two glasses of whiskey and hands one to you while he lowers himself onto the other end of the loveseat.

Which, it’s a loveseat, so he’s still intimidatingly close.

“Thanks,” you mumble, then swallow a mouthful of the alcohol, wincing at the burn as it travels down your throat.

It’s not until now you realize you’ve never been alone with him. You’ve only experienced his intensity from afar. The way his eyes linger on you, seeming to study you when he thinks you won’t notice.

But you’ve noticed.

And you like it.

You’ve been careful to only leave hints of your wanting. Flicking your gaze to his when you feel it on your skin. Holding it there until your heart starts pounding and one of you looks away. Letting your body brush against him in passing. No words spoken, only heated eye contact and near-touching. Following an acute awareness of the way you’re drawn to him, how fervently your blood courses through your veins when he’s near, how his presence seems to tug at the edges of you.

“Did you write that yourself?” he inquires now. You take another sip and look up at him, meeting his eyes.

It’s unbearable. Yet, you don’t want it to stop. Like magnets are buried beneath your skin and his, opposite poles, aching to meet in equilibrium.

“I did,” you admit quietly, then tilt your head at him with curiosity, “Did you like it?”

He hums and nods, glancing down at your mouth, “I’ve been watching you. I see the way you look at me.”

“I know,” you respond in a whisper. The confession sends your heart racing… but you feel emboldened. You tip the glass to your lips and let the remaining whiskey slide down your throat, then lean forward to set the empty cup on his coffee table and scoot closer to him as you settle back into the couch.

Javier sits up to place his drink on the table, and when he returns, he’s only inches away. He brings his breath to your ear and murmurs, “You like it, don’t you? The attention?”

“Yes,” you answer. His hand rests on your knee, a branding iron that heats your core and steals the air from your lungs.

“Teasing me with those short skirts,” he travels up your thigh, letting his rough palm drag along your skin. The touch sends a shock wave of pleasure across your body.

You whimper and your eyes flutter shut.

His voice lowers to a rasp, “Staring at me with those fuck-me-eyes. You think I wouldn’t know it was you?”

He stops at the crease of your thigh and grips the tender flesh, pulling a wanton moan from your throat as your head falls back against the couch.

“Look at me,” he demands, so your eyes blink open and you meet his heated, meticulous gaze, “Do you want this?”

“I want this,” you nod, bringing a hand to his cheek, working your thumb against the grain of his stubble. He studies your face, dropping his eyes to your mouth, kneading your thigh, drawing closer.

You succumb to his beckoning lips, capturing them in a kiss. Fire sparks in your chest and spreads through your veins like wildfire, spreading to him as your tongues meet, rolling soft and wet, whiskey harsh on your shared breath.

Then he’s on you all at once.

Pushing your back flush to the couch cushions, rocking his hand against the seam of your panties, sliding the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders, liquefying your insides into molten need. He rids you of the red lace thong, tossing it on the floor while your trembling fingers unfasten the buttons of his shirt. You splay your fingers across his chest and slip the shirt off his shoulders. It joins your abandoned lingerie, followed by your dress, then his pants.

Javier pauses to study your naked body, lust-blown eyes trailing along every inch of your exposed skin, hands dragging up your legs. You examine him, too. His smooth, bronzed skin. His broad shoulders. His lean frame. His swollen, needy cock.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” you breathe, reaching out to him, rolling your hips against nothing, aching with lust.

Your compliment pulls a rumble from his throat, then he returns to your body, to your lips. His warmth sends shockwaves down your spine. You arch your back into the sensation, drinking up every ounce of heat your thirsty skin can lap up.

When he touches the slick pool between the legs, spreading your arousal up and down your slit, you both moan into the other’s mouth, and he pants, “So fucking wet.”

You slide your hands around his shoulders, whimpering, nodding, reveling in the exquisite heat stoked at your center, urging him to continue with a breathy moan, “Don’t stop—fuck, that’s so good—”

He groans and captures your lips in his, kissing you hard, messy, working you faster, and the flames licking your insides continue to grow hotter, breaking you out into a sweat, making you gasp and moan against his mouth, eyes fluttering shut and it’s just this aching, heated bliss building at the base of your spine, and your pleas for him not to stop, and his skin on yours, his mouth planting wet kisses down your jaw, your neck, his moans of secondhand pleasure vibrating down your middle, fueling this brilliant concentrated ball of fire burning a hole inside you until you reach the edge of something and push past it.

Ecstasy washes over your body and steals the air from your lungs. You release a shattered breath and start to free fall, but his touch doesn’t relent, and your body shakes with pleasure that’s too intense to bear, legs clamping shut around his arm as you start to whimper at the stimulation.

Javier pulls back when your legs go jelly, his chest heaving, eyes wild and black and glued to yours. His pink tongue rolls against his lips, then they pout out into an O when he drags his fingers through your release. Your hips jerk at the jolt of his touch, heavy eyelids fluttering as you moan, and he smirks, “Wanna move this to the bedroom?”

You bite down on the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip as your gaze drops to his engorged length, and you manage to respond, “Uh-huh.”

He stands and starts towards his bedroom. You follow him on wobbly legs, head swimming, ears buzzing.

Just like the common areas of his apartment, his room is decorated tastefully and obviously courtesy of the Embassy. It’s surprisingly neat, though, the dark walnut chest of drawers cleared of clutter and personal effects, hardwood floor unencumbered by piles of dirty laundry, dark walnut four-post bed dressed with white linens. Based on the constant state of disarray his desk is in, you expected it to be messier, and wonder if he cleaned up for you.

Javier strides over to a side table and pulls a condom out of its drawer. While he wraps himself up, you settle at the edge of his bed, legs dangling off the side as your eyes trail down his shoulders, his arms, the defined muscles of his back, swallowing hard when he turns to face you.

He takes the two short steps to settle his hips between your knees and hums, bringing a hand to your chin, tilting your head up towards him as he presses his forehead to yours and purrs, “Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? Hmm? For me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, linking your hands at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, feeling his breath puff hot against your mouth, grip on your chin tightening.

His lips find yours and he kisses you slowly, deliberately, with a tender sort of reverence that tightens around your skin and makes you whimper. The noise spurs something inside him. He cups your cheeks and picks up speed, climbing onto the bed, pushing you onto your back.

It completely consumes you, the way his mouth works against yours, the way you writhe against each other, touch roaming, both of you tugging and rubbing and digging your fingers in and moaning at the fire blazing between your sweaty bodies.

When the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, you wrap your legs around his back and arch against him, panting, “Fuck yes, give it to me.”

He stares down at you, holding your gaze as he plunges forward, working you open, and both your faces contort with pleasure.

“Fuuuck,” he groans as he starts to rut into you at a steady pace. Every single nerve ending he rubs against buzzes with ecstasy.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull him closer, pressing your lips to his, immersing yourself in a series of messy, frantic kisses, swallowing each other's moans, working your bodies in tandem to fuel the hungry flames. You start to roll your hips against his thrusts, each one accumulating hot and gooey and tingling, tugging at the edges of you as you whimper, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

“That’s it, baby,” Javier pants, his voice jumping in time with his hips as he drives into you, “So fucking good—feel so fucking good—”

He kisses you then, and his eager lips, his soft tongue, the scent of whiskey on his breath, the burn of his mustache scratching your skin, the blissful ache of him stretching you again and again, it fully engulfs your body, like you’re melting together, the heat between you too great, the fire too intense to remain whole because this glowing molten core is growing wider and hotter with each moan, each touch, each thrust, and you beg Javier not to stop, fuck, don’t fucking stop, and he steals the words from your mouth with his own, fucking you hard and fast just like you knew he would, pushing you closer and closer to bliss, and then you reach it.

For one second, you’re suspended right at the edge, mind blank, body humming. Then it hits you, and it hits you fucking hard, euphoria breaking you into pieces and tearing a sob from your throat. Javier’s hips stutter as your muscles tense and your pussy convulses around him. He gasps against your mouth, then shudders as he finds his release. Both of your bodies slow their pace, cooling to a crawl, then a stop.

The sound of your labored breaths fills the bedroom, heaving chests working against each other as sanity starts to return and your bodies struggle to recover. He rolls off of you and stretches out across his bed, inhaling deep and wide, exhaling a content hum.

Then, without a word, he gets up and leaves the room.

Your guts twist into a knot. It should give you whiplash, how fast you go from total satisfaction to nervous wreck.

Since moving to Colombia for this job, sex has been a rare occurrence for you. And by that, you mean… it doesn’t happen. Even before the move, a series of long-term relationships have been your only claim to sexual experience. So this situation is uncharted territory.

But you’re pretty sure this is your cue to get the fuck out.

While staring at the ceiling, you kick yourself for giving him the note, for putting yourself in this position. Shame simmers hot under your skin when you try to imagine what it’ll be like the next time you see Javier at work. When you’ll both know what happened here tonight, but pretend it was nothing.

Why do you have to feel this burning desire for someone like him? For someone so intimidating and closed off? And, more perplexing still, does he feel it for you?

Your chest and throat tighten when it dawns on you that he probably doesn’t feel the same as you. Maybe he saw an opportunity to get laid and took it. Maybe… it was nothing to him.

You sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed, peering out the bedroom door a moment before hopping down and padding across the hardwood floor into the living room.

He’s doing something in the kitchen, so you fold your arms in front of your body and make your way over to the couch, snatching your clothes off the ground before you sit and start to get dressed.

As you pull your dress down over your head, he returns to the living room. He’s wearing jeans now, but remains shirtless, and a lit cigarette dangles from his lips.

You glance up at him and mutter, “Sorry, I can get out of your hair. Thank you for, um… indulging me.”

He plops down next to you and crushes the burning ember of his cigarette into a glass ashtray on the coffee table, then leans back and extends his arm along the couch behind you, frowning, “You’re leaving?”

“I—I guess, right?” you turn and search his face, meeting his eyes that are all puppy dog soft. They tug at your heartstrings, but you continue to stammer onward, “That’s—I don’t know, that’s what I’m supposed to do, right?”

“If that’s what you want,” he shrugs, dropping his gaze to your lips.

While you stare at him and try to understand what the fuck that means, he leans close, brushing his hand against your cheek, “Or, you could stay… we can ‘indulge’ ourselves again.”

“Is that what you want?” you ask in an attempt to parse out his intentions.

“Is that what you want?” he counters in a low voice, furrowing his brow.

You bite down on your bottom lip and nod, then blink and shrug, “I mean, if that’s what you—”

His lips cut you off before you can embarrass yourself more.

—

You woke up with the sun. Javier was still holding you close, his shallow, dream-drenched breath spreading across the nape of your neck in soft puffs. You wriggled out of bed and collected your things, then walked the city block to your apartment and got ready for work.

The day passes by like any other, with the exception of your strained muscles making every movement more difficult. You don’t cross paths with Javier, but when you return to your desk after lunch, there’s a red envelope sticking out of your typewriter.

You take a cursory glance around, then pluck it out and open it. A smile spreads across your face when you read the note inside.

Roses are red Violets are blue Come over tonight I want to see you XO, Your Secret Admirer

#javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña fic #javier peña #javier pena #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #whatsnewalycat writes

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withlovelunette · 11 months

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How to construct character psychology!

– Introduction

Hello hello! :D I’ve been very slow with my writing lately due to uni work (and some unforeseen health issues), but I’d like to still be able to make content and be interactive in the writing community, so I’m here again to share some advice based on my own experiences! One of my favourite things about writing is writing characters, specifically constructing a character’s psychology. I’d like to preface this post by saying that while I’ve had formal classes in psychology, I’m by no means any sort of expert within the field, and I also don’t believe that every aspect of how a character is written needs to be rooted in realism. However, I do want to share some insights that I got from it, and also because I feel like “character psychology” has this very mystified weight to it that makes it seem a lot bigger and intimidating than it needs to be.

So! My goal is just to share some advice on how to break down a character’s psychology and work from there! If you like what you read and would like to read more, I’ve also written a post about creating “complex” characters, which you can find the link to here! Aaand yes I think that’s about all I have to say beforehand, I hope you enjoy :,)

What do I mean when I say psychology?

Before getting into the nitty-gritty, I’d like to start with the basics, just to make sure people are on the same page when reading this post. When I’m talking about psychology here, I’m specifically referring to a character’s cognition, as in how they process information and act on it/make judgments. I’m not necessarily referring to personality in this case (although personality is an aspect of psychology, but I’m more so referring to personality as a consequence of cognition here, rather than as a collage of traits and behaviour).

Another thing I want to clarify is that exactly how much of human behaviour is nurture vs nature is a hotly debated topic that I’m completely under-qualified to take a stance on, but for the sake of this post; I believe both are equally essential aspects of human behaviour, so just keep that in mind! (I’m looking at any behaviourists in the chat rn). That being said; I’m not really comfortable treating psychology as “nature” (as such rhetorics are often used in gender-essentialist and other bigoted ways of thinking), so my main focus will be nurture, since that’s what is most readily observable!

Determining character motivation

If you’re working with very little or bare minimum characterization, my recommendation is to consider; what motivates a person to act? And by this, I’m not referring to the external quest or goal behind the character, but rather, what’s the core of what motivates your character to act at all? Even in grand, epic adventures of good vs evil, where the external goal is as simple as “putting an end to whatever evil the bad guys are doing”, there needs to be a reason a character is specifically on the side that they’re on. Multiple characters can be on the same side, but they might find themselves on that side for vastly different reasons, even when their exterior goals are the same. From there, you’ll want to consider what informs this motivation in particular.

One technique I love to employ, when still figuring out my character, is to have them make some sort of bizarre decision, a decision I’d initially think to be improbable for this particular character, and then try to list off various justifications or variables that would allow for this character to make this particular decision. There’s a couple of reasons for why I do this.

1) It removes some of the pressure to have a perfectly cohesive, perfectly put together and neatly defined character from the get-go. The drafting process isn’t just for plot and story structure’s sake, it’s also there for you to experiment with characters! Having your characters make story altering decisions that possibly challenge or contradict themselves is a great way to make sure that you’re writing active characters as opposed to more passive ones, and I think the first couple of drafts should really be a playground for you to see just how far you can stretch your characters based on their characterisation.

2) It helps me clarify what is and isn’t important in my character’s decision making. I’m a firm believer that most decisions/actions aren’t inherently in or out of character; it just depends on whether or not the readers/viewers can understand the character’s thought process behind their decision, and this ultimately comes down to how well you, as the writer, conveys the character’s priorities when they make decisions. If you’re established that a character acts based on a code of honour, an exterior source to morality and conduct, then the justifications and reasonings they would use to justify murder would likely be very different than a character who acts based on their own convictions. This is also a great way to show character development; by showing how a character’s decisions gradually change as their cognition change as they develop.

3) It allows me to explore nuance and make note of potential contradictions within the character’s way of thinking—which is often the most interesting aspects of a character’s psychology, at least in what I enjoy to write and read. Most real people don’t have perfectly cohesive morals, and most people can’t always act congruently with their morals either, so allow for your characters to make some bizarre decisions! See how far you can stretch their cognition! These decisions don’t have to be canon to the story, but it’s a good way to actually solidify what line of thinking your character makes when faced with difficult and potentially morally indicative choices.

Work your way backwards!

If you already have the overall traits and behavior of your character pinned down, you can always work your way backwards! As a pantser, this is a very common occurrence for me. I have a character with a clear goal and defined characteristics, but they’re completely uninformed so far, as I usually discover the cause of their motivation and characteristics as I write the story. As such, most of my characters don’t have any sort of backstory established until I’m much further into the process, as I discover it as I go along. So here’s some things I look out for in my character writing when creating a backstory after I’ve already established a character.

1) What are some things the character is often drawn towards? Humans are typically very habitual, a lot of us enjoy some sense of familiarity (to varying degrees depending on the person), and taking note of what your character tends to gravitate towards can be a great stepping stone to fleshing out backstory. An example could be a somewhat cold, stoic character who’s incredibly picky with their relationships due to trust issues (pretty common characterization) has a tendency to let their guard down more when around elderly people. Why is that? Maybe they were raised by very old parents, or even grandparents. Maybe it’s a cultural thing to treat elderly with more respect. Maybe it’s a religious thing. Maybe it’s because elderly people have treated them with more kindness in the past, etc. Note that this can be flipped too! Maybe this character feels uneasy around people closer to their own age, or even people who are younger than them.

2) How does your character socialize? The way a character approached social settings can often be very indicative of how they were raised, as that tends to affect how people form attachments (according to attachment theory in psychoanalysis, at least). Are they very sociable? If so, why? Is it because they’re accustomed to being around a lot of people? Maybe they had a very large family, or maybe they had a family that took part in a very active social sphere. Maybe this character just comes off as sociable because they understand the value of social connections. Why’s that? Maybe their family have a political influence, or maybe they have a business they want to sell, etc. Or maybe it’s the complete opposite; maybe this character grew up with little to no family at all, and that’s why they want to make friends and connections. If so, then maybe that affects how they make decisions, leaving them incredibly loyal and somewhat co-dependent. Even the smallest character traits and behaviours can be expanded upon to inform you of how that character was possibly raised, it’s really just about digging into said behaviour!

3) How receptive are they to new experiences or other people’s perspective? This is also somewhat linked to attachment theory, but it doesn’t have to be approached that way! The reason I bring this point up is because I find that a character’s receptiveness is often a good way to gauge their relationship with their parent. For example, a character with very strict, traditionalist parents might adopt that outlook on life because it offers them a sense of stability and security. They weren’t raised to be adaptable or to adjust themselves to new experiences, and thus have a difficult time accepting things outside of their established paradigm. This would suggest that this character likely didn’t rebel much to their parents’ outlooks on things (or if they tried, they failed), since they adopted said outlook for themselves. Another way to write this character (with the same premise) is to have them react in the opposite way; maybe they are super open and receptive because the rigidness of their parents prevented them from ever experiencing anything. Maybe the status quo bored them, or maybe they see their parents as narrow minded. This characterisation suggests that there’s possibly more tension (not necessarily in a negative way) between the character and their parents.

Interplay between morals & behaviour

A character’s morals and behaviour don’t always have to align. Like I mentioned in an earlier point, humans hold a lot of contradictions, and how people cope with those contradictions can vary. However, how do you determine if a contradiction is purposeful rather than a case of out-of-character writing?

Let’s say you have a character who views all animals as sacred, and this is something they were raised with. Suddenly, this character is thrust into a situation in a different world/kingdom/region/etc. where eating animal meat is the only viable food option to survive. They decide to do it, despite their morals directly conflicting with this behaviour.

One way this character might justify this is by thinking “well, my intentions matter most, and my intention was never to hurt animals, so while I feel bad for killing an animal for food, my intentions of doing so respectfully makes this action more acceptable to me.”

But another character in the exact same situation might not be satisfied with such logic. Maybe they see intentions as irrelevant, and only care about the consequences of their actions. If it’s been established beforehand that a character is consequentialist, then this action, paired with the justification above, would feel incredibly out of character, because the logic behind the justification is not intuitive to the reader.

Whether a contradiction feels purposeful or out-of-character ultimately boils down to what information and how much of it you’ve given to the readers, so that they have the information necessary to break down the interplay between the character’s morals and behaviour.

Using other tools (cognitive functions, socionics, enneagram, etc.)

As I’ve mentioned before on this blog, I’m very interested in various types of typology (mbti probably being the most popular and well known one), and while I consider all forms of typology to fall under pseudo psychology, I often use these tools to help me better understand my own characters better! I personally gravitate towards cognitive functions (which is not the same system as mbti, even though it uses the same letter system) as they help me put into words my character’s cognition, and enneagram, which describes behaviour and motivations that arise from a person’s upbringing and coping mechanisms. There’s other things you can take into consideration as well, like socionics, temperaments, attitudinal psyche, etc!

I’m not suggesting you use these as replacements for developing characters, but they can be great supplements when trying to dig deeper into your character’s psychology! I’d also argue that you get more out of putting these systems into use if you learn about typology and analyse your characters yourself instead of taking a test for them, but I’m also very biased in this regard, since I enjoy analysing my characters myself :,) And there are times where I’ll take a few tests to help solidify my breakdown if I’m having a difficult time labelling my character correctly. Honestly, just have fun with it!!

– Outro

Sorry for yet another lengthy post! And sorry it was a bit later than I’d anticipated, I had a much busier weekend than I thought I’d have, so I kept having to squeeze writing in anytime I had enough spare time to sit down, and then I stumbled across a series of health complications that I’m still trying to sort out. Which, speaking of, thank you so much to everyone who’s been wishing me good luck! I’m still working on figuring out what’s wrong, but I’m making progress!

As usual, my asks and messages are always open, so feel free to shoot me a message about anything! Even if I may be slower with my replies ^^; Thank you for reading! <3

#original post #writing advice #writing tips #psychology #characters

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vanishingcherry · 2 years

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slytherin pt. 2

draco x reader

words: 5.8k

warnings: swearing, death, kissing (please comment if you see any other)

summary: you are harry’s younger sister, and got sorted into slytherin

a/n: thank you so much for 400 followers and 2k notes on part 1. im still new to writing so i tried my best, hopefully you like it! this is genuinly the longest thing i have ever written lmao (i havn’t double checked it, so if there are any mistakes please tell me)

part 1

-----------------------------------------------

Your fourth year passed the same as the previous ones, your only comfort being that you actually had people to talk to now. With Draco Malfoy as your friend, the other Slytherins started to accept you, and instead of Harry ignoring you, it was the opposite way around this time.

Under Sirius’s instructions, he was trying to talk to you and understand where you had gone over the summer, but you avoided him completely, figuring he should have a taste of his own medicine.

Although Professor Umbridge was more often than not a pain in the ass, being in Slytherin meant that you got special privileges, later even joining the Inquisitorial Squad with Draco.

Around halfway through the year, you were walking through the courtyard when an owl flew down to you, sitting on your hand. It had an envelope with it and u quickly took it from him, frowning. You never got mail. Who would you even get mail from?

You rushed back in to your dorm before tearing open the envelope. It was a letter. Your eyes drop to the bottom of the page and you blink, not believing who it was that sent you the letter. Lucius Malfoy? Draco’s dad?

You skim through the letter, putting it down in shock when you realise what exactly it was that he wanted. You sat on your bed, taking in a few deep breathes as you thought it through.

Talking to Voldemort, or as the letter said ‘The Dark Lord’ would be different to say the least. He had tried to kill your brother, multiple times, he was supposed to be your enemy. Supposed to.

Everyone else had thrown you away, no one cared, no one except Draco and his family. You were scared, you knew that if you declined, there was a possibility they throw you out too. You couldn’t deal with the thought of that, having to leave again, having no where to go.

You quickly unrolled some parchment, writing a quick reply asking when and where you would be meeting Voldemort. You hurriedly sent it off when you heard Draco coming up the stairs, remembering the underlined note at the bottom of the letter saying that he mustn’t know.

“You okay?” Draco walks in to your room, immediately flopping on your bed.

“Yeah sorry, just finishing some homework.”

---

The year continues and you go back to Malfoy Manor with Draco during winter break. A few days into the vacation, you’re looking for a book in their massive library when Draco’s father comes up to you.

“Ready to meet the Dark Lord?” Startled, you turn around and see him looking at you expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Right now?”, you question.

“Yes. Follow me.” He turns around and walks away briskly, you blink a few times before following, walking fast to catch up to him. Mr. Malfoy had sent a letter back, saying that you would be meeting him during the winter break and that you were expected to come back with Draco, but you presumed it would be later in the month, not so soon.

You end up at the basement, and Mr. Malfoy guides you through to a surprisingly lavish room. Right in the center stood the Dark Lord, Voldemort. You heard the door close behind you and realised that you were now alone with him.

You stood by the door, watching as he walks towards you.

“Y/N. Harry Potter’s sister.” he says in a whispery drawl.

You almost scoff. Even standing in front of Voldemort, Harry was all the mattered.

“You ran, left them. Why?”

You don’t say anything for a couple minutes, unsure of how you should reply. “They didn’t care about me, so I stopped caring about them.”

He doesn’t reply, instead stares at you for a couple seconds. Within the blink of an eye, a chair appears in front of you.

“Sit.” He waits for you to follow his order. “I will be reading your mind. You will not attempt to block me out in any way or form.”

Without waiting for confirmation of any sort, he raises his hand above your head and you feel your eyes get heavy.

You are back in Grimmauld Place. The scene before you has a hazy quality, everything was brighter, shinier. In front of you is Harry and Sirius hugging, both looking extremely happy as everyone ignored you.

It changes, now it’s a scene where you hide behind the kitchen door, trying to hear about their plans.

“Someone needs to be there constantly to protect it.”

“He’s definitely going to go after it.”

The door opens before you can hear anything else, and the faces of everyone staring at you from the table swirls into something else. The moment you left, the moment you decided it was enough.

“Look Y/N, maybe it would be best if you just ate somewhere else. Your place it over there near the sink, you can go eat in the living room.” It was Harry.

“What?”

“Y/N please just leave, we need to talk about stuff and you can’t listen to it.”

“‘Cause I’m a Slytherin? I thought family was more important that your fucking house.”, you shout at him, an incredulous expression on your face.

“No one here likes you. Can’t you see that? God, life would have been much easier if you’d never been born.” he yells at you.

When you open your eyes again, you aren’t in the basement anymore. You are back in your room, Draco sitting next to you, waiting for you to wake up.

He realises you’ve woken up and immediately smiles, helping you sit up against the headboard.

“Are you okay? Father said you fainted in the library, he found you on the floor.”

“Uh- yeah, yeah. Sorry my head is just hurting a bit. I’m fine.”

“Here”, he turns away, picking up a glass of water and a tablet from his side table, “have this.”

“Thanks.”

---

The rest of your school year was uneventful in comparison to the summer break. When Dumbledore left, things got much better for Slytherins, and Hogwarts became much more enjoyable. Being in the Inquisitorial Squad meant that rules such as “6 feet apart” didn’t apply to you, and you found yourself spending almost every waking moment with Draco.

You spent a lot of time studying, him preparing for OWLs and you finishing up homework. Sometimes you caught him staring at you, smirking and whispering a “nothing” when you asked him what was wrong.

You weren’t sure if it was because the amount of time you were spending together or something else entirely, but you found yourself staring at Draco a lot too. The only difference being that you were careful and he never caught you. His hair looked much better and for some reason you felt kind of happy when you saw the other girls jealously looking at you walk with him.

One night, you were sitting near the lake when you saw Draco’s father apparate in the distance. You got up and walked there, wondering how it was even possible. When you got close enough, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the forest.

“Come with me. The Dark Lord requires it.”

“What? I can’t right now, someone’s going to look for me.”

“I’ll handle it, try not to puke.”

“Wha-” You were cut off by him apparating, taking you with him. You ended up at the ministry, walking behind Mr. Malfoy once again. It brought a sense of deja vu, but at that point you were just glad you didn’t puke, even though you really wanted to.

He left you in a dark room, and told you to wait for him to come back. Confused, you ask, “Wait but you said that the Dark Lord wanted to see me.”

“No, I said he wanted you here.” With that, he apparates away, leaving you alone for a solid hour. You sit down, leaning against the wall and try to find something to occupy yourself with. Soon enough, that turns into you subconsciously smiling when you remember a joke Draco had made earlier in the day.

All of a sudden, you see a bunch of Death Eaters fly in, when they land and turn back into humans, you realise they had people with them. Squinting your eyes to get a better look, you realise it was Harry and his friends, almost everyone he was close with was there.

You were hidden behind a rock, so they couldn’t see you, but you could see them clear as day, none of them had their wands and they were stuck, squirming in the grasp of the Death Eaters who held them.

Harry was in the center, Mr. Malfoy in front of him, waiting for Harry to hand over an orb of some sort. However, before Harry gives it to him, flashes of white enter from the roof. You realise that it is the Order of the Pheonix, immediately starting a fight with the Death Eaters.

You quickly duck behind the rock, avoiding spells and curses being shot in every direction. You still didn’t understand why you had to be here, why did the Dark Lord want you here.

Nonetheless, you stay hidden, not like you could leave anyways, you hadn’t yet learnt how to apparate. You see Sirius dueling a Death Eater whose name you didn’t know come closer. You duck right on time, narrowly missing a Cruciatus curse that flew above your head. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to muffle a small surprised whimper and when Sirius knocked out the Death Eater, he walked around the rock and saw you.

Getting up immediately, you get your wand out, taking a step back,

“Y/N”, he whispers, “Why are- how are you here. You have to leave, come with me.” He puts his want down, coming closer to you.

“Don’t- don’t come closer”, you say, still holding your wand out in front of you.

“I’m- we’re sorry Y/N. Look I promise you won’t get in trouble, just come with me, it’ll be okay.”, he calmly says, taking small steps towards you.

“Stop. You’re lying, you don’t- no one cares about me. They care-”, you point to Draco’s dad and all the other death eaters fighting, “- they accepted me when you didn’t.”

“Y/N, this isn’t what your parents would’ve wanted for you. They aren’t good people, they hurt others.”

“You hurt me. You and everyone else hurt me. They didn’t. You, you and Harry and everyone else, you are the bad guys.” You are shouting at this point, tears falling down your cheeks.

Sirius looked around in desperation, trying to find someone who could help him convince you, but everyone else was busy, fighting.

When he looks back at you, he says a small sorry before hitting you with a spel you had never heard of. It was too fast for you to put up a shield and you felt yourself getting drowsy, falling to the floor. Just before you close your eyes, you see a bright green light hit Sirius, he crumples to the ground just as you go unconscious.

---

When you wake up, you find yourself back in your room. The one in Grimmauld Place. Blinking a few times before getting up, you change into the clothes places on your blanket. You squint at all the light and realise that it was the middle of day, the blinds were wide open. You quickly closed them before leaving the room, carefully making your way down the stairs.

You wanted to leave, but you were too tired, decided to take your chances with everyone else. You go downstairs and see that everyone is eating lunch. Harry is no where to be seen and everyone is more or less silent.

Molly Weasley, Ron’s mom, notices you and tells you to sit down, setting a plate full of food in front of you, waiting until you were done eating to start talking.

“I’m glad you are okay darling, we were all very worried.”

You nod, still confused, wondering why everyone was being nice to you.

You were in the corner, putting away your plate when Harry walks in. Turning around, you see him look at you before looking away, ignoring your existence. You turn back, closing the cupboard before heading up to your room. Just as you are about to leave the door, he grabs your wrist, you stop, knowing very well what was coming.

“This is all your fault.”

“Of course it is”, you reply back with sarcasm, rolling your eyes. “Nothing can ever be your fault can it? Always my fucking fault.”

“Sirius is de- he’s gone because of you. You- you killed him.”

“Yeah Harry. I’m the one that shot the killing curse at him. Sure!” You were tired of this, trying to pull your arm out of his grasp.

“What did you tell them. You’re the one who told them everything didn’t you? A fucking traitor.”

“That’s no ones fault but your own. Maybe if you had enough decency to treat your own sister as a human this wouldn’t have happened.” Quickly, you snatch your arm out and leave before he can talk to you again.

Rolling your eyes, you leave again, climbing up the stairs, feeling the deja vu. Something about that kitchen and you being in it must bring out the anger in Harry.

Grabbing a few galleons you found on the table in the room next door, you leave out the window once more. Funny, you’d thought they would at least be smarter to give you a different room.

You take the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley, and once you get there, you get a room at the inn before renting an owl from the post office. You send a quick letter to Draco, explaining that you had been taken back to Grimmauld Place and were now in Diagon Alley. You hoped that the letter would reach Draco and not anyone else, giving it to the owl before heading back to the room to rest for the night.

The next morning you head down to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour to get some breakfast, treating yourself. You see someone reading the Daily Prophet and find out that Dumbledore was back and Umbridge had been removed, returning to her job in the Ministry.

When you get back to the lobby, you are informed that someone came looking for you and is in your room. Taking out your wand you cautiously walk up, letting out a huge sigh of relief when you see that it is Draco.

“Oh thank god.” He immediately pulls you in for a tight hug, giving a small kiss to your hair as he keeps you in his arms, not letting you move.

A couple minutes later he moves back, still holding on to your arms. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I- Yeah. I- we- I was back at Grimmauld Place, I just left.”

“Did they hurt you? What happened? Father he- he said that you were with him and then you ran or like left and he couldn’t find you. He’s mad, he doesn’t want me to be near you.”

“I- He took me to the ministry. I was in this room and there were all these Death Eaters and they had Harry and all his friends and then Sirius and Remus and all of them came and started fighting.”

“What? Why were you with him there? Did he force you?”

“No, I uh, I talked to the dark lord during the summer brea-”

“What.”

“- I told him everything. He like looked at my memories and found out about Harry and Sirius and everything”, you continued, ignoring his interruption. You kept your eyes on the floor, not wanting to see his disappointment.

When he didn’t reply, you looked up, seeing that he was just staring at you. You couldn’t read his expression. “I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me. I promised you that you would be safe at my house and you- you should’ve told me.” His voice was soft, but you could tell he wasn’t sure what to do, trying to hide his disappointment.

“You couldn’t have done anything. The dark lord would have done it anyways.”

“Stop- stop calling him that. He’s not your Dark Lord, just, just call him anything else.”

“‘K, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The two of you sit on the bed, he made sure to hold your hand in an attempt to show you that he wasn’t mad, just didn’t know what to do next. You knew as well as him that you couldn’t go back to Malfoy Manor. Thankfully you had enough money to last a couple weeks before you would go back to school.

“I- I care about you.” You can barely hear him, but it breaks the silence and for a second you’re confused.

“I care about you too?”

“No, not in a friend way, in- like a- I don’t know, a more than friends way.”

You are speechless. Did he really think that way? All this time? Did you think that way? Every single thought you’ve ever had about Draco goes through your head in a split second. All those times you’d looked at him, all the times you’d caught him looking at you. The way you smiled when he entered a room, the way he made your day brighter the moment he walked through your dorm door in the morning so that you could walk to breakfast together. He helped with homework, he let you talk and talk for hours without interrupting.

You remember all the times he has smiled, and how him smiling just cant help but make you happy. All the times he was sad, and how that made you sad. All of it results in a single realisation to dawn upon you. You liked him. Maybe even more than that, but you wouldn’t let yourself think that far.

“I’m sorry- shit. I- just forget I said anything it doesn’t matter.” He says hastily, getting up and smoothening his shirt. You didn’t realise you had been silent for more than a minute, blinking when you hear his voice, spanning out of your haze. “I’m just going to go then, you can send a le-”

“I care about you in a more than friends way too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

He slowly broke out into a smile that covered his entire face. His eyes widened in disbelief and he almost laughed, so happy that his feelings were reciprocated.

You smile too, feeling giddy on the inside and outside. Before you knew it, he had grabbed your cheeks and kissed you.

You had never been kissed before, it was a surprise, but a welcome one. After the initial shock you kissed back, your arms wrapping behind his neck, pulling him in. What felt like hours later, you moved away, breathing hard, you were sure your lips were red but at that moment, nothing mattered, nothing except Draco.

Neither of you could stop smiling, staring at each other, memorising every inch of your faces, before leaning back in for a small kiss and repeating the cycle. He left later that night, promising to return soon. You would spend your nights waiting for him, finishing homework and buying everything you needed for your next year at Hogwarts. It would be a lot harder, granted, but with Draco officially being your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but wait for the year the start.

---

All of Draco’s so called “friends” were now spying on him, making sure that you and him weren’t seen together. They would report back to his father in a moment if you were caught. You were disappointed when Draco told you, the last night before you boarded the Hogwarts Express, but the two of you decided to stay together anyways, neither of you were new to sneaking around.

It made dating so much harder, and you were cursing yourself for not realising this last year, but it is what it is, and the two of you tried your best. You would often meet in the middle of the night in an empty classroom or the room of requirement. Draco had been spending a lot more time there, he claimed that it helped calm him down so you were more than happy when he asked you to go down there for the first time.

The room was extremely cluttered, with small items found in every corner. There was a small sofa where the two of you would sit and talk, away from any prying eyes. Occasionally, you would spend the night there, falling asleep together on the sofa only to hurriedly sneak back to your dorms in the early hours of the day.

One day, you decided to see what the room of requirement would look like if Draco wasn’t with you. You went during a free lesson and waited as the door opened. When you walked in, you realised that it was the exact same as all the times you spent with Draco. You look around a bit and notice a huge cupboard where the sofa usually was. When you walk to the other side, you see Draco.

He’s holding out his wand, whispering a spell and aiming it at the cupboard. He stops halfway through when he sees you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He sounds shocked, talking fast to cover up whatever it was that you just saw. You open your mouth to reply but then notice something dark on his wrist. His sleeves had been rolled up and you quickly walk forward, grabbing his arm and flipping it, letting out a small gasp when you realise what it was. The dark mark.

“Draco.”

“I’m sorry. They made me. I’m- I have to find a way to get them in Hogwarts. I’m a death eater.” He talks fast, trying to get the words out, wanting you to hear everything before you left, or at least tried leaving.

“You’re what? Are you serious? Draco tell me you’re joking.”

He looks down, staring at his shoes to avoid your glare.

“You can’t actually be working for him. You could die!” You stare at him, worry and anger completely taking over your facial features.

He looks up. “Like you didn’t? You worked for him too, you almost died too.”

“That- that was a mistake and you know that Draco. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“And I do?”

You open your mouth to reply but pause, knowing that if he had said no to the Dark Lord, he probably would have been killed. Draco catches your hesitation and closes his eyes for a second, calming down.

“See. I don’t, I’m stuck in this whether I- we like it or not.”

You nod and Draco quickly gives you a hug, kissing your shoulder over your t-shirt, promising you that it would be fine, he would stay safe.

You were worried out of your mind most of the time, watching him from a distance every time he would make an excuse to his friends, walking away and heading to the corridor that would take him to the room of requirement.

One night, you are walking through the hallways at night, when you see Draco. He wasn’t heading to the room of requirement, but somewhere else. Curious, you followed him. He stops around a corner and starts talking. You poke your head around the corner and realise that it was Bellatrix. It has worked, he had done it. Stifling a gasp, you turned, back pressed against the wall as they kept moving, towards Dumbledore’s office.

You wait outside, hidden in the darkness when all of a sudden the door opens and Draco comes out. Waiting for a few moments, you walk to him when no one else comes out. He was panting, holding his head in his arms as he walked around in circles. He looks up when he hears you, immediately tensing up in shock.

“You cant be here”, he whispers in an urgent tone, “you have to leave before-”

The door behind him opens again, and out comes Bellatrix, Draco’s dad and two more death eaters whose names you didn’t know.

“Shit.”

Bellatrix smirked when she saw you, walking towards you and grabbing your wrist, her nails digging into your skin.

“What made you think you could leave the great da-”

“Leave her alone.”

Looking behind her, you realise that it was Mr. Malfoy who has spoken. Bellatrix looks you up and down before releasing your wrist, leaving a couple drops of your blood behind from where her nails pierced through. She glares at Draco’s dad while leaving, forcing Draco and the other two death eaters to follow her.

You are left once more with Lucius Malfoy and he walks closer, lifts his chin up and looks down at you.

“The Dark Lord has decided to forgive you. Be thankful. Stay out of our way.” Within a second, he leaves, following his son out the room.

An hour later you were standing outside, beside Draco as everyone mourned the death of Albus Dumbledore

---

6th year. You were constantly on edge. Part of you was glad that you had been “forgiven” by Voldemort, at least you weren’t being tortured like all of Harry’s old friends. On the other hand, you were guilty, knowing that the only reason you were safe is because everyone thought you sided with him. You didn’t, you were scared and wanted to be safe. That’s all.

Snape became the headmaster and death eaters became the teachers. All you learnt was dark spells, with the occasional practical lesson where you would be forced to use what you learnt on the first and second year students. Every single time that happened, you found yourself back at your dorm, sobbing as Draco sat next to you, rubbing your back at an attempt to consolidate you.

He hated seeing you sad, knowing that he was partially the reason this was happening. You felt worse, wondering if you had just sucked it up and stayed at Grimmauld Place, this never would have happened.

Since you and Draco could openly date now, he was constantly kissing or touching you in some way or form. Whether it be holding hands or just his hand on your leg, he made sure you knew that he was there. And you were grateful. You weren’t sure how you would’ve made it through your 6th year without him. Often, you would help him study for his NEWTS, him returning the favour by helping you with your homework.

Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors would often stare at the both of you, sending looks of annoyance and hate, but as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t do anything.

“Just ignore them darling.”, Draco said one night when you told him about it. “They don’t understand. Even if we try to explain they won’t listen.”

You were discussing something you had heard from Pansy when a couple 5th years knocked on your dorm door.

“The headmaster requires everyone’s presence.”

Frowning, you and Draco get up, smoothening out your robes before heading out, joining the other Slytherins preparing to head downstairs. All four houses were stood there together, waiting for what Snape had to say.

“If anyone knows about the whereabouts of Harry Potter, step forward. Now.”

Murmurs break out all over. Harry Potter? Here? You stay silent, Draco was confused as well, so it was obvious something was wrong.

Just as Snape starts to threaten everyone once more, you see a student run out and stand in the middle. Upon close inspection, you realise that it was Harry. He was here?

Snape takes out his wand and points it as Harry, but before he has the opportunity to say a spell, almost every single Gryffindor comes and stands in front of him.

Behind you, the doors open and you find yourself looking at the Order of the Pheonix, you also go and stand in front. Essentially, Harry had almost 50 people between himself and Snape.

Professor Snape is still, figuring out what to do when you see Professor McGonagall move out and point her wand at Snape.

They break out into a duel, spells flying as all the students, including you, duck and stay on the side. Ultimately, Snape gives in, leaving through the window as McGonagall smiles in pride.

You grasp onto Draco’s hand as the entire hall breaks into talk, celebrating the fact that Snape was gone. All of a sudden, a girl from Hufflepuff screams, covering her ears. Soon everyone else can hear it too. Voldemort.

“Give me Harry Potter.” Voldemort repeats that again and again, promising safety and mercy to everyone should it be done before the clock strikes midnight.

You hear a fellow housemate in front of you complain after Voldemort is done.

“Just give him to Voldemort. What does he even matter.”, she shrieks.

All the other houses protest immediately, throwing insults your way as McGonagall tries to restore decorum. When she finally succeeds, she provides a solution. A solution to her anyway.

“The Slytherins are to be sent to the dungeon.” Professor McGonagall announces. Her statement is followed by another round of applause from all the other houses. Your house is forced down, following Filch, back to your common room as everyone else prepares to fight. Partially, you were glad, you knew that if you were up there, you and Draco would have been forced to fight. You prefer the scorn of your school compared to the thought that Draco might get hurt.

The blasts and shouting could be heard all the way in the dungeon. Most of you sat in the common room, waiting for someone to come get you, waiting for some news. You and Draco are sitting together on the couch, you resting your head on his shoulder as you watch the flames dance in front of you.

A while later, everything went silent, everyone looked to the door expectantly. Filch came a few minutes later and the Slytherins were let out of the dungeon, and you grabbed Draco’s and and ran, getting back up to ground level.

You head to the Great Hall, seeing dozens of students injured, some even dead. Stifling a sob when you see a couple friends lying in the stretchers, you run away, not wanting to look at all the blood and gore anymore. Draco follows, letting you cry into his shoulder as he keeps kissing your forehead, feeling the exact same thing as you. Not 5 minutes later, you hear a bunch of people leaving the hall.

Walking outside to see what was going on, you gape when you realise that it was Harry in Hagrid’s arms. He wasn’t moving, he looked dead. Next to him was Voldemort, laughing as he celebrated the death of the only person who could kill him.

Spotting you and Draco, he beckons the two of you to his side. Draco moves almost immediately, not wanting to anger the dark lord.

“What are you-”

“Come with me.”

Feeling the gaze of everyone on your back, you follow Draco, quietly joining the ranks of death eaters. The dark lord stops Draco, giving him an awkward hug as you watch with bated breath, before releasing him and letting him walk and stand beside you.

As Voldemort continues his monologue, Draco slips his hand between yours, and you grasp on to his hand tightly, conveying to him every single emotion you were feeling at that moment.

“It’s okay. We’ll be fine.” He tries his best to be reassuring, but you can hear the tremble in his voice.

He turns to you, about to add more, but all of a sudden theres a lot of commotion at the front. You stand on your toes, trying to see what was happening.

“Oh my god.” Harry was alive, blasting spells everywhere, trying to run from Voldemort who was sending just as many back at him.

Everyone scatters, death eaters attempting to help Voldemort as all your classmates from Hogwarts do their best to stop them. You feel Draco nudging your shoulder through all the chaos.

“Come, now’s our chance, we have to go.”

“We have to help them fight.” You respond stubbornly, wanting to stop anyone else from dying.

“They don’t want our help. There’s nothing we can do, we have to leave, now.”

You look back, seeing everyone fighting, Hogwarts burning behind them. Then you look at Draco, his eyes are urging you to accept his outstretched hand. He looks back at his parents, who are waiting for the two of you to join them and leave.

Closing your eyes for a second, you place your hand in his and then run with him, catching up to his parents before apparating away, back to Malfoy Manor where you would be safe and happy, with Draco.

---

10 years later...

You follow Draco through King’s Cross, holding on to your son’s hand as Draco holds on to your daughter’s. He’s pushing her trunk in front of him, looking back occasionally to make sure you hadn’t gotten lost.

There were hundreds of wizards and witches on the platform, half of them crying and waving as their children board the Hogwarts Express. Draco quickly places the trunk in a pile near the train and walks back to you.

Your daughter is almost jumping in excitement, quickly saying bye to the two fo you before running into the train. You roll your eyes and smile, walking towards the train and talking to her through the window.

“Remember to write okay? We’ll send you letters every week, and remember to go to all your classes and if you feel even a little bit sick go to-”

“Yes mum, Madam Pomfrey, you’ve told me already.”

“Ok good and remember-”

“I remember, don’t worry. I want to go find somewhere to sit now.”

“Ok then, bye, we’ll see you during winter break.”

“Bye mum! Bye dad!”, she shouts, looking behind you and waving at your husband. Without any hesitation, she runs away, looking for people to make friends with.

You chuckle before heading back to Draco, who has your son in his arms. The two of you stay on the platform, watching as the train rolls out of the station.

“We did good.”, you whisper.

“Yeah.” he replies, looking down at your son and then back at your daughter through the window. “We did.”

---

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void-bitten-ghost · 4 months

Text

Modern Mizu hears you like a bit of 'danger and excitement' from one of your friends, so she takes you to an underground fighting ring for like, your fifth date. This is after the gun range fiasco, so you've already seen a side of Mizu that not many have been allowed to see.

When she mentions this idea you're like, so fucking excited but still kinda like??? There's one of these here????? Nearby????? Holy shit yes???? Please?????? That's so cool?????

She specifically avoids answering how she knows it exists. This isn't about her. This is about sharing an experience she loves and you've shown interest in.

She picks you up on her bike (because Of Course she would have a motorbike that's like either this hand-me-down or a fixer-upper she restored) and you go. It's exactly what you thought it would be, off vibes and dodgy people, but being with Mizu somehow makes you feel safe because she's confident. But it's not an arrogant kind of confidence, it's a steady, assured sort of confidence that puts you right at ease as she takes your hand and leads you through the crowd.

Now, something you don't know is this is not Mizu's stomping grounds. Not even close. But she knew it by name and reputation and it was close enough you could both make a night out of it rather than three. Although... she wouldn't mind if that were to happen--

She snaps back to reality when you step forward and holler out encouragement to the scrawnier one of the two currently in the ring. The corner of her mouth quirks at your enthusiasm, a brow lifting and a hip popping as she crosses her arms to just. Watch you. As you lose yourself to the energy of the room.

The match ends with the scrawny one getting his ass handed to him by the dude built like a brick shit-house. She expected as much. It takes a certain amount of skill to be able to take a mountain of a man like that down while having such a slight build. She'd know, after all.

Anyway. Everything is going swimmingly until some prick pushes his luck trying to get your attention. You very bluntly tell him he's barking up the wrong tree and he does not take the rejection well. Mizu tries to not intervene directly with your battles too often. You're a capable person, it's one of the things she lov- likes. Likes about you.

But then the burly fuck reaches for you. You smack his hand away and go to headbutt him. She grabs you by the waist before you could start the climb to reach and if you weren't so riled up you might have short circuited at the feel of her calloused hand on your skin.

"This bitch yours, mutt?" He grunts to Mizu, and you see fucking red.

"You fucking dare call her a mutt you jumped up little cun--"

"Yes," she says over you, calm as a still lake, and you do actually short circuit at Mizu calling you 'hers'. The heat of anger in you switches gears to something far sweeter, but no less scalding.

"And I would appreciate it if you didn't upset her," Mizu says, her fingers trailing to your hip and gripping a belt loop possessively. You can suddenly feel every point of contact. Hip, arm, chest...

That's when the man looks at Mizu. Really looks at her with a lean forward and squinted eyes, looking over her tinted shades.

"Onryo," he breathes, and you feel Mizu tense behind you. She hadn't heard that name for a good long while. It was a name from her troubled youth. One she thought was long behind her since going legit.

"You're a long way from home, demon."

"What of it?"

You could sense something was happening as the two spoke in what you thought was an amicable tone, but then Mizu is pulling you behind her and shedding her jacket. You take hold of it instinctively as she went to drop it on the ground and she finally turns your way.

"Everything is fine," she tells you in that same confident tone, but she must see your confusion and anxiety written on your face because she takes your chin in her hand and gives you a quick peck on the lips. You stand there with a stupid, dumbstruck look she grins at as she--

She's heading to the ring. She's heading to the middle of the ring and she's shedding another layer as she climbs over the freshold oh dear gods you don't know what to do. What to think. Holy fucking shit she's right there in a sports bra and baggy pants while wrapping her knuckles-- where did she get wrappings from?????

You're more than short circuiting at this point. You need a soft reboot. Maybe a full reboot at this rate since she's sliding off those tinted glasses and-- oh.

You see her eyes.

You've seen them before, of course. But not like this. Not with this intensity behind them. Like she's looking right through her opponent to predict every single movement his future self might consider making. That indomitable focus had you flushing with heat from head to toe as you watched, mouth parted, breaths quickening.

She floors a man twice her size and three times the bredth and your knees might give out. Are you swooning? You might just be fucking swooning holy fuck--

But then she gets gut punched and then tackled by a secret second opponent and you snap back into the whole situation.

You scream out encouragement to Mizu until your lungs feel dry, and then you scream some more. You want to be the loudest. You want Mizu to hear you and know you're rooting for her while she wipes the floor with these cheating bastards.

There's four of the fuckers now. Four all dressed in similar... you hesitate to call them uniforms. More like they all shopped at the same tec-wear store at the same time. But shit are they fast. You have the slightest moment of worry when you see the glint of metal fly past in one of their fists--

Mizu breaks thier arm with a sickening twist and a wet 'crack', and you think you might never have been so turned on in your entire fucking life.

(And also you might need to address and analyse some things about yourself later...)

The metal drops to the floor with an audible clang and a loud noise goes off somewhere. You're going to be honest, you're not really paying attention to anything else other than how Mizu moves around her opponents. Even outnumbered she holds her own, muscles coiled and yet her movements are smooth like flowing water. You can't help but think of the type that wears away cliffsides and cracks apart mountains, because that's what she's doing. She's fighting smart where they're fighting with force, and she is kicking their fucking asses--

Others converge on the ring, the crowd flooding in to hold them all down and you can't help but notice it takes five fully stacked men to hold Mizu down. And even then that only lasts about seven seconds before she breaks free, methodically picking them all off one by one before she launches herself into the now turbulent crowd.

That's when you panic, shouting for her while elbows and shoulders send you this way and that. You narrowly dodge a fist to the face before a hand grabs yours. You're ready to swing right back when you lock eyes with those sharp blues you so adore.

You both book it out, avoiding flailing limbs and thrown table legs. You've somehow still got Mizu's jacket in the crook of your arm when you both make it outside and keep running, only stopping when the sound of sirens was long, long off in the distance.

You're both curled over in a dark, dank alleyway, breaths haggard and coming out as clouds in the crisp night air.

You look up from your knees, ass pressed against the brick wall to support your wobbly legs, and you can't help but crack a grin when you see Mizu in a similar state, only just realising what the fuck just happened.

The grin breaks into a laugh when Mizu looks to you with a bright smile of her own, it's a wheezing thing at first, but then it becomes a full belly laugh when she joins you. And oh, is that such a rare sight. Mizu losing herself in a laugh and then looking at you with the most beautiful full face smile you've ever seen in your life.

Your giggles die in the face of that smile, replaced with a quiet awe and probably the dumbest looking lovesick stare--

Steps. Multiple steps approach the alley and Mizu's first and only instinct is to hide and protect you, pressing you back against the wall and covering your mouth with her hand, catching your yelp of surprise before it could really become an external sound.

And ohhhhh, what a predicament you find yourself in. Pinned to a wall by this very strong and capable and, evidentally, dangerous woman who took you out tonight to a place you would only dream of going to and protected you the entire time and then caused a room wide fight to break out that she was, up until that point, winning--

Ohhhh my phone is currently dying a death imma have to post and carry on later because my brain is a bastard that way 🙃

#modern mizu #bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu x y/n #underground fighter mizu #I WROTE SOMETHING #HAHA! TAKE THAT BRAIN BLOCK!#HOPE YOU ENJOY #tw fighting #tw violence #but i mean #its bes #eitger way better safe than sorry #fem reader #ish

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