#and these songs will always make my chest feel like a warm autumn day just steady and content

[tacticalfemwile]

#hadn’t listened to these boys in a minute and oh man it still hits #DMA’S always carry a strong nostalgia for me #hills end and for now are two albums that really defined my late teens/early adulthood #they weren’t the best years of my life but they were very formative #and these songs will always make my chest feel like a warm autumn day just steady and content #DMA’S #music

[huramuna]

selkie's song - chapter 1.

night's watch aemond x wildling shapeshifter ofc work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

this is wholly inspired by @lonelymagpies depiction of Night's Watch Aemond. please go check out their beautiful work here!

i am also partial to selkies bc irish 🤭 i'm going to take some liberties with wildling lore since we don't know too too much about them and mix some of my own heritage into it (indigenous american and irish) , which i feel would meld really well.

previous | next chapter

word count: 2.2k

content: smut (eventually, specifics will be under the cut of chapters with it), enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, ofc is a menace to Aemond and he kind of likes it

who is she? - I MONSTER • dead! - my chemical romance

The blood of the dragon runs hot and thick, pulsing through Targaryen veins like molten lava. His mother always snuggled him as a child, citing him as her own personal furnace. 

If only that would come in handy now. Aemond thought he knew cold, way up in the skies, skimming the clouds upon Vhagar’s back, feeling the chill away from the heat of the earth. A frigid autumn breeze going through his window, causing him to bundle up in two blankets— although he usually kicked them off sometime during the night. 

But this— this was cold. Ball freezing, bone chilling, blue lipped cold. He was stuck up in the ass of the North, stationed at the wall, dressed all in black. He puffed up the collar of his cloak, trying to find some respite from the gales of glacial air. 

“Saddle up, Targaryen,” the lord commander grunted. He was a broad man, some disgraced Northman who rose his way up the ranks of the Night’s watch. Aemond could hardly remember his name, “We’re goin’ beyond the wall. Scouts said wildlings gettin’ too close.” 

“Mm.” Aemond grumbled in response, not wanting to waste his energy talking to the ogre of a man when it could be better used for warmth.

The stable boy, no older than nine name days, tugged his palfrey to him, “I’ve got ‘em all tacked  up for ya, prince.” 

“Oy, Ryam,” the lord commander snapped. Lord Ennard Fir, that was the commander’s name, “He ain’t no prince anymore, so stop callin’ him as such. He’s just one of us now, eh? A man in black.” 

Ryam nodded slowly, handing the reins to Aemond. The boy’s face was tinged red as he puffed air into his cupped hands, trying to keep warm. He was a boy from the south, just like Aemond— a butcher’s bastard boy, Ryam Waters. He had accompanied the now scorned prince on his ride up the Kingsroad. He reminded Aemond greatly of Daeron.

“Stay warm, boy,” Aemond said, giving the youngster a stiff nod of his head, “Take the fur from my bed, it’ll help.” 

Ryam puffed out his chest, “Uh huh, your grace,” he giggled, speaking the title in secret. 

It almost made a smile come to Aemond’s lips. Almost. He tried to remember the last time he smiled– it was on that fateful day near Storm’s End, over Shipbreaker’s bay. He was taunting Lucerys, finally being the stronger one, the one who had control. He laughed and smiled like a madman, chasing his nephew on his puny hatchling of a dragon. He felt like a god.

Then Vhagar snapped her jaws, ignoring Aemond’s commands. The sickening crunch of Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon still lived in his mind. It played in his dreams, making them into nightmares. He constantly woke up in a cold sweat, muttering, “It was an accident, it was an accident, I didn’t mean it.”

His eye began to ache and he clenched his jaw as he mounted his horse. Glancing around, he saw that five other men were joining him. He tugged his hood up slightly before his hand rested on his blade. He donned two weapons; a standard issue castle-steel short sword, and the Catspaw blade. He had watched his father carry it for years, he watched his mother brandish it in his name and cut Rhaenyra— and now it was his. 

Not by precedent or bestowment, he actually stole it. When he was being sent to take the black, he pilfered it from Daemon’s chambers. The old fucker already had one ancestral blade, he didn’t need two. It was the only thing he had left of home, besides the sapphire in his socket and his eyepatch. It was gorgeous crafted Valyrian steel and he always kept it on his person. 

His thumb grazed over the ruby gem on the hilt of the dagger absentmindedly as they descended on their journey, spurring their horses further across the threshold of the wall. Lord Fir was at the front, with Aemond holding up the back in their procession of ingrates and outcasts. 

If he told his younger self that he was to be lumped in with bastards, thieves, rapers and ne’er-do-wells, he would’ve laughed in his own face. It was a ridiculous notion for a Targaryen prince to be even entertaining the idea. And yet, here he was. Living it out. 

He wondered what his mother was doing currently. Had she taken Helaena and Aegon to Oldtown with the children? Did she stay in the Red Keep to be squashed under Rhaenyra’s heel? 

“Aemond Targaryen, you stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, protector of the realm,” Ser Westerling had shouted, “You stand accused of treason, conspiracy to commit usurpation, and nepoticide. You murdered Lucerys Velaryon in cold blood above the skies of Shipbreaker Bay.” 

Aemond had been in chains, his face haggard and stubbled from not being able to shave. They stripped him of his eyepatch and sapphire at the hearing, sending him down to his knees with his barren eye socket to behold. 

“How do you plead to these charges?” Ser Harrold asked. 

Aemond said nothing. 

Rhaenyra sat upon the Iron Throne, tapping her finger incessantly against the metal, “Brother. I’ve granted you the courtesy of allowing a hearing to your… crimes, rather than simply sending you to the block. Mayhaps I was too lenient on my decision to let you say your piece.” 

Aemond still said nothing, looking down at the ground. He heard his mother shuffling near him, off to the side in the throne room, murmuring something hurriedly to someone. 

“I have nothing to say. Lucerys is dead— nothing I can say will bring him back or undo what’s been done.” he finally grit out, his voice hoarse from disuse. 

“So, you have no objection to being punished for your crimes? The crime of Kinslaying is the most cursed,” Rhaenyra said, leaning forward, “Mayhaps I will grant you a death by dragon— I would honor you the same way you so graciously honored Lucerys, hm? Mayhaps have Syrax and Caraxes rip you limb from limb and scatter your parts over Blackwater Bay.” 

Aemond didn’t respond.

“Y-your grace,” Alicent spoke up, walking to Aemond and standing in front of him, “Please, have mercy upon him. Your son wouldn’t have wanted this—“

“DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT MY SON WOULD’VE WANTED,” Rhaenyra bellowed, standing up from her seat, “Your son took away his ability to want anything, and for that there should be repercussions! A son for a son.” 

“Rhaenyra, please,” Alicent murmured, “Please, I can’t lose him— it… it was an accident. Aemond, tell her it was an accident!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to admit their family’s greatest fear was true; they did not have complete control over their dragons. 

Rhaenyra gazed at Aemond’s pained expression, then at Alicent, “He will be punished. But I would not become a Kinslayer— I do not wish to be as accursed as you, brother,” she strode back to the throne, twisting the rings on her fingers, “He will take the black and be sent to the wall. He will have no titles, no land, no wife or children. He will have nothing for the rest of his life except for the Night’s Watch.” 

Alicent was stunned, as was Aemond. He wondered if he would’ve preferred death. 

“In addition,” Rhaenyra continued, “His claim to his dragon, Vhagar, will be severed. He will undergo the Valyrian ceremony for it.” 

“You can’t,” Aemond growled, “You can’t!” he panicked— Vhagar had been the only thing he ever achieved in his life, truly. He lost his eye for her. 

“Take him back to his cell and prepare him for the ride up the Kingsroad.” she said with finality, looking down at her hand as she sat back on the throne. 

Aemond saw— she had been pricked by the throne, blood beading at the tip of her finger. 

Mayhaps there are still small mercies in this world. 

A particularly strong gust of cold air snapped him back to reality, his hand still itching over his dagger. They reached the thick treeline that stretched out for miles, their horses trudging through the snow. 

They were at least ten miles out from the wall now, the Seven Kingdoms left truly well behind them. A small river trickled near them and Aemond saw the shadows of fish— large ones at that. 

He had been in the Night’s Watch for at least seven moons now, and this was his first expedition outside of the wall. It felt like a whole different world— a world without laws, without political duty, without fights of succession over a throne made of swords— there was something freeing about being here. It was only a remnant of what he felt soaring the skies on Vhagar, but it would have to do. 

The wind whistled through the branches of the trees, fresh snow beginning to fall. He heard a fly buzzing near his ear. No, that couldn’t be right. Surely there weren’t flies in the cold? 

It wasn’t right— another fly whizzed past him, sticking into the man in front of him. Those were the arrows. 

“Ambush! Wildlings!” Lord Fir shouted, reeling in his horse. 

Aemond went to unsheathe his sword when his horse went haywire, rearing up on its hind legs. “Lykiri, lykiri!” Be calm, be calm. He shouted at the horse, tugging at the reins as the wildlings descended upon them. He felt like he was above Storm’s End once more, screaming for Vhagar to heed his commands—

His horse bucked him off, sending him tumbling into a deep snow drift. He dropped his sword somewhere aside— his hand immediately went to his waist, gripping around the Catspaw dagger. 

A breath of relief washed over him as he rolled and hid behind a tree, unsheathing the dagger. He twirled it around, waiting for someone, anyone to cross his path. 

He then felt the cool pressure of a blade against his throat. 

“Don’t move, crow,” a voice said. It was almost diminutive, soft in tone— but it was threatening all the same, “I don’t need to paint the snow red with your blood just yet. Drop the dagger.” 

Begrudgingly, he dropped the Valyrian steel into the snow. 

“Now turn around, slowly. Keep your hands out.” 

He turned around, expecting to see an ugly wildling in his gaze. He had only heard the tales of them, that they were more ugly than not. 

His breath caught in his throat as he looked upon her— she was small, much smaller than he, her skin somewhat pale and cool toned, freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. It was her eyes that caught him— one was a deep, rich brown, and the other was a light blue, with fragments and shards of brown in it, like a mountain against a clear sky. Her hair, dark chocolate brown with one streak of white in it, was tied into a haphazard braid. She wore earrings made of the lower jaw of some small mammal, inlaid with opals. She was holding a dragonglass dagger to his throat, the hilt of it carved from a deer’s antler, encrusted with a matching moonstone. 

She wore a long, white coat— it looked to be the skin of some animal, but Aemond couldn’t tell which. It was spotted and fluffed. 

His brow narrowed as he noticed that she was soaking wet, dripping water from her nose and hair, the sheen of moisture shining from her skin.

He could only imagine how astonished he looked staring at her— but she stared back at him in the same manner, her eyes wide. She had huge eyes, Gods be good. 

“Fucking hell, you’ve got a purple eye.” she murmured. 

“You should see my other eye.”

A harsh crack across his face— she had slapped him, “Don’t be a pig.” 

Aemond blinked profusely, “By the Seven— I meant my actual other eye,” he grunted, “May I?” he gestured to his eyepatch. 

“… better be worth it, crow.” she murmured, nodding slowly. 

He lifted his eyepatch off, revealing the sapphire underneath. 

Her lips were slightly agape as she ogled at him, “You’re a fancy crow, aren’t you?”

“Hm.” he grumbled. 

She retrieved the Catspaw dagger from the ground, stowing it at her hip, “I’ll be keepin’ this for right now.” 

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” he asked, perplexed as to why he wasn’t dead yet. 

“Not yet— you got interesting eyes, I wanna show my papa,” she retrieved a leather cord from her belt and wrapped it keenly around his wrists, “Caught myself a crow.” she hummed, seemingly entertained with herself. 

Aemond rolled his eye, letting her hoist him up into a standing position. He towered over her, to which she didn’t seem too bothered about. 

She led him past the battle, which was now over. He saw three of his Night’s Watch brothers slain, and it looks like two others had run off like cravens, including Lord Commander Fir. 

“Where are you taking me?” 

“My tribe,” she replied, stringing him along. 

“Your… tribe,” he repeated, “And what is your name?”

“Euna. And you, crow?”��

“Aemond.”

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #selkie's song

[fleetinginfinities]

first ever of these but … the bachelors and my random headcanons/quotes/song lyrics/slices of whatever that fit them 🫶 apologies it doesn’t include everyone, these guys are my favorites and I’m having trouble channeling the others lmao

Sam

- drums his fingers/knuckles on tables, his legs, any surface when he’s anxious or impatient or excited or anticipating something. which, he’s always feeling at least one of the above…so

- his fingers. that’s all

- plays footsie under the table but not in a weird way, in more of a “I literally need to be touching you at all times to ground myself to this present moment and be happy” way

- loves full body contact — huuuge tight hugs, rolling on top of you in bed, pulling you into his chest from behind

- mumbles in his sleep and tosses and turns, constantly reaching for you and pulling you close

- blushes a lot. his cheeks turn the most beautiful peachy color

- talks at the speed of light as his default setting

- speeds when he drives, speeds when he walks, just Does Everything Quickly and with much energy

- is somehow both a morning person and a night owl most of the time

- but when he’s lazy or tired, there’s never been anyone lazier or sleepier

- always answers phone calls on speaker mode

- is unaware of his strength when showing affection sometimes, like an oversized dog

- prominent arm veins. enough said.

- makes you feel so alive. present. his energy is contagious

- there’s not a soul he can’t make friends with

- would absolutely love early/mid 2000s pop punk

- blindingly sunny smile

- beautiful, soft golden hair that he wears messy and literally sticks out every direction but in the hottest way ever

- he’s like the summer solstice. an everlasting day that’s sweet and warm and full of life but also peace. Sam, in all of his chaos, is your peace

- “i’m so in love that I might stop breathing”

- doesn’t ever hold a grudge

- smells like lavender and lemon. no I won’t be taking any feedback with this one

- big fan of flowers

- like, it’s not uncommon for him to show up with a hand-picked bouquet for you he collected on the way over

- could’ve worked in a bakery instead of joja mart and would’ve been much happier. sweet cinnamon roll boy

- is actually the heartthrob of the town

- as sweet and pure as he is, he also has a rebellious side and is often trying to sneak you in his room and toe the line of authority whenever he can

- is quite adventurous and doesn’t really have an ego if he’s bad at things or much fear in general. the results are constant entertainment and occasional catastrophes.

Elliott

- “I dream about you every night now. It’s really quite beautiful”

- is actually strong and built and muscular (totally looks like a red headed Thor in my brain)

- but touches and holds you so gently that it makes you want to cry

- extremely strong jawline

- gives that aloof kind of mysteriousness and quiet confidence that is magnetizing to literally everyone

- doesn’t have a toxically masculine bone in his body

- will talk to you for hours about philosophy, literature, films, art, the meaning of life, etc etc etc

- traces his fingers on your bare skin, lost in thought

- has the most mesmerizing, starry eyes

- being around him makes you feel like you’re living in a dream. everything feels ethereal and hazy

- if Sam is the summer solstice, Elliott is like the peak of autumn, when all of the leaves are at their most colorful and bright just before they fall, and you feel like he’s both the beginning and the ending of something all at once

- as a matter of fact: “is this the end of all the endings?”

- “you showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else. you taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else”

- loving him is the most intense, passionate experience of your life

- he would a b s o l u t e l y be the one that got away if you split up

- big fan of candles and crackling log fireplaces

- really enjoys a good row in his boat in the cool, dewy mornings and his back muscles show it

- his emotional intelligence is unmatched. you’ll never meet a more well-adjusted man

- romanticizes life in only the way a writer can

- isn’t just all depth and somber. also isn’t all pizazz and flamboyance. actually has a great sense of humor as a secret third thing

Sebastian

- despite how much he closes himself off at first, you feel an instant connection with him. you just understand him innately. and you feel like he gets you, too

- downplays how smart he really is

- genuinely loves to let everyone else shine. loves that Sam commands all the attention in the room. loves watching others praise you.

- is never competitive with anyone else and absolutely loves when the people around him win. the most supportive person ever

- really has a soft spot for animals

- incredibly intuitive. can read your mind like a book and anticipate your needs

- if he loves you, there is not another person on earth that would ever catch his attention or temptation. 1000% the most loyal boy

- “he looks up grinning like a devil”

- motorcycle rides in the city late at night when it’s raining

- sometimes doing something reckless is the only way that makes him feel alive

- in other words, he’s a closet adrenaline junkie

- can absolutely rival Elliott in terms of being the most romantic with his words sometimes — though it’s few and far between, he will never stop telling you that you’re the first person that he ever did, well, basically *anything* with and how special you are to him and how you’re his one and only

Alex

- it takes a special person to command his attention, he has always had fleeting attractions but he has never felt for anyone what he feels for you

- is absolutely a great person to go to with any problem. he has a clear and straightforward answer or solution

- is the number one person you want to be around if you just want someone genuinely uplifting to spend time with

- *always* notices physical changes and gives fantastic compliments

- is absolutely the dude who keeps his friend group together well into adulthood and middle age and beyond. he’s the one planning beach days, weekend recreational sports and activities, cooking out or tailgating on game days, inviting you for a bite to eat at the saloon if he hasn’t seen you in awhile, etc.

- genuinely loves a good romance or romcom as much as he loves the newest action movie

- fantastic with kids

- is very committed to you from the start

- will go to great lengths to maintain a happy and healthy and successful relationship. it’s the athlete determination in him

- has quite good taste in aesthetics. definitely has an opinion about fashion, home decor, etc

- has perfect teeth and a beautiful complexion in my mind

#stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #sdv #sdv elliott #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #yo what is with all the new formatting options here #they’re a Very Good Thing dont get me wrong #but I haven’t regularly used this site since like 2017 #relearning it as we go!

[elvisabutler]

this is neither the time nor the place

summary: baz likes to throw pre-oscar parties on the beach near his house. baz's parties are always a little interesting. austin shows you why. fandom: austin butler | elvis 2022 pairing: austin butler x plus size female reader rating: m. it's kinktober, y'all at best i can manage a high t in lower ratings. word count: 1550 warnings: public sex acts. thigh riding. fingering-ish. p in v sex, unprotected. literally having sex in front of people while they're not watching. minor embarrassment/humiliation kink. use of the word king and queen to describe the reader and austin. me making jokes about the reader being persephone and austin being hades. author's note: welcome to day 12 of kinktober, public play with austin butler. so this started out as fingering, then was going to be sex on the beach before i settled on this. i really actually like where it went. hope y'all enjoy this! this is subtle plus size reader, but let's be honest, i secretly just want to picture austin with a his girl in his lap, all the fabric of her skirt hiding the two of them and what they're doing. and before you say that's not possible, you should see the amount of fabric some of my skirts have.

Baz is excited this year. Baz has actually been excited from the moment production wrapped on Elvis, his post wrap party being one that Austin has told you about numerous times in between your giggles at Baz's antics- are you sure he wasn't drunk sweetheart- and your jealousy that you weren't a part of Austin's life back then. Every night he reassures you with kisses to your lips, your neck and your chest. You weren't a part of his life then, but you are now. You're his Persephone, enrapturing him from afar in the spring and summer but staying glued to his side the minute the cold gusts of autumn rolled in. Oscars are the last time you'll be able to spend an extended time period around each other. He's got yet another project booked and you- regretfully have to get back to your own job. Your own boring job despite his pleas to let him take care of you. To let him use his newfound fame and mild riches to take care of you. Maybe one day is always the answer he gets, with a side of you reminding him as much as he enjoys calling you Persephone and you teasing him about being Hades, he is not nearly rich enough just yet.

Baz greets you the second he sees the pair of you, enveloping Austin in a warm hug and pulling away to look at you with a hint of awe.

"Oh, Y/N, he has been hiding you away hasn't he? You look stunning. You actually rival my view of the sea." He practically croons and you can't help the way you tilt your head down and bite your lip.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Luhrmann. I still haven't quite forgive you for what I heard you did to my king. It'll take quite a few boombox moments with Nessun Dorma to get me to forgive you." You scrunch up your face in mock anger, wagging your finger as you do.

Baz laughs and leads you two inside. "Catherine will love you. Austin if you don't marry her- I may have to revoke your rights to come here as you please."

Austin gasps as he shuts the door. "You wouldn't."

Baz's only response is a shrug as he ushers you to the kitchen where some song you don't recognize is playing. It feels like a party and feels every bit like the party Austin had told you about. A few times you feel a little out of place, surrounded by absolutely stunning individuals but the second you even have a hint of distress on your face Austin is whisking you into his arms, dancing with your bodies pressed close together, his hands squeezing your hips, allowing your full ass to grind against him. Even during dinner you find yourself being lifted onto his lap. It's not the first time you've sat on his lap but as time went on you kept trying to move, trying to wiggle away to give his leg a break from your weight only to have Austin's lips at your ear, nipping at it just enough to earn a small gasp from you.

"Babe, if you move from that spot, everyone is gonna see what you've done to me, what you've done all night." He murmurs, looking around before his hand drifts to between your legs. "And we don't want that, do we?"

You shake your head slightly before placing your hand over his. "Austin- what are you doing?"

"Making my queen happy." He answers simply as he starts to bounce the leg you're on up and down, his thigh brushing your core every time he does. "Unless you don't want me to. Unless you want to stay aching for me all night. Don't know when Baz and everyone will leave us alone."

There's a sharp inhale of breath on your end before you lick your lips and move your fork to grab- fish, maybe it's chicken, honestly you've suddenly forgotten what you're eating in the haze of what Austin's proposing. "I don't know if i can stay quiet."

Another kiss, this time you can feel Austin's smirk against your skin. "You can. Ride my thigh, Queen. Your King knows what you need."

His leg keeps bouncing slowly, allowing you to shift every so often, allowing you to press your cunt against his thigh, reveling in the pressure it brings. It takes a minute to get into a groove but you're holding conversations, same as Austin as you feel your cunt clenching around nothing, trying to feel something other than the warmth of his thigh. You pause and move to get up off Austin only to feel his arm wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you back down with an audible thump. "What are you doing?"

You look around, noting that Olivia is staring at you with a raised eyebrow that you shrug off. It takes her a minute to look away but when she does, you lean into Austin's hold, making sure your entire weight is on him before you answer. "Need your knee, I'm close, Aus. Let me just-"

He growls lowly, earning another look, this time from Catherine and Kelvin and you feel the embarrassment and horror starting to eat away at your arousal before Austin smiles at them both and rather than giving you his knee, he starts to undo his pants, pulling out his leaking cock. No one can see it, not even those sitting closest to the pair of you, but it still almost makes your eyes pop out of their sockets to realize what he's doing. You're about to say something when he grabs you by the waist both hands lifting you up plopping you right on his cock. It's not perfect and once you realize what's happening, you end up having to adjust your skirt as he pulls aside your underwear. You're fully in his lap now, fully seated on his cock and you bite your lower lip so harshly you swear you feel blood. Austin decides that's the moment to take a bite of something and moan around the fork. You feel your cunt clench around him, you're not coming but something about hearing him moan like that has your body reacting. You wish he could grab your breasts like the normally would. That he could play with your nipples like he normally would but there's too many people at the table and you know you can't.

Austin moves his hips up, signalling for you to try and ride him. He doesn't say a word, instead choosing to lightly kiss you on the neck, his hands playing with your stomach absentmindedly. To anyone at the table, you just looked like a couple deeply in love who didn't want to keep their hands to themselves. You and Austin knew the whole truth though, that right now he had his cock buried in your cunt and your constant shifting was you bouncing up and down on his cock. You're becoming a little breathless at the effort to keep quiet and at the way you're having to move to feel the slide of him in and out of you so you try and hide a moan in a bit of potato only to have Baz look over at the two of you.

"Are you alright?" He asks just as Austin's hand slips in between your folds to find your pulsating clit and flicks his finger against it. You cough out a groan before you nod.

"I'm fine. Just- the food is good. Great even. I see why Austin talks so fondly of that last party." Your words are coming out in a rush as Austin continues his onslaught of your clit, rubbing and tracing small shapes, trying to get you to come. You can already feel him twitching, almost like he truly is getting off on knowing that any second now someone is going to realize you're fucking yourself on his cock. "It's practically orgasmic."

Somehow hearing you say orgasmic and feeling how you used your bit of kegel strength training to clench your cunt around him has Austin spilling inside of you, his cum filling you up. There's a moment when you realize Austin isn't wearing a condom and you panic, but not before he pinches your clit and you practically jump just slightly as your body has you coming, the force barreling into you like a freight train and having you grip the table with all the strength you can muster. You know it's written all of your face that you just came, you know it is especially when Baz's next words leave his lips.

"For both of you, it looks like." His lips curl into a knowing smirk before gathering everyone's attention for some story. "Austin's looking a little flushed, Y/N, there's a bathroom around the corner, see if you can't freshen him up."

Austin finally seems to come back to Earth at that and looks positively mortified even as you can feel his cock starting to swell back up. He lifts you up and quickly puts himself back together before standing up and pulling you close to hide his newfound erection. "Yeah. We're- we'll be right back."

You're not back until dessert.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #austin butler x plus size reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #ally's kinktober 2022 #kinktober 2022 #ally writes

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

Evermore Part 2

Nanami Kento x Reader

(Song: Evermore by Taylor Swift, Bon Iver)

Evermore Part 1

You sold the last of your furniture. You packed the last box. You have everything ready for the big move. You groaned. You needed a small duffle bag. And you threw one away two days ago. You groaned and left the apartment, in search for a decent sized bag.

The crisp, autumn breeze hit you. You mentally cursed at yourself for not bringing a jacket. You wanted to go back in, but you also didn’t want to walk back up the stairs to get it.

With a large sigh, you wandered around, finding a store to stop at. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander along with your body. You hugged yourself warm, imagining a pair of familiar, strong arms wrapped around you. Just the thought of him still makes your heart flutter. It still makes your chest heavy.

You missed hearing his voice. You missed his scent that made you feel like home. You missed his smiles, smiles that were always meant for you to see.

You broke out of your thoughts when your phone rang.

“Hello? Oh! MinHyuk!” you said, a smile appearing on your face. “I needed last minute things for tomorrow. Yeah, I’ll send you my location.”

As you did, you then searched the crowd. Your heart skipped a beat. You will always notice the tall blonde male. You will always notice the orange and black spotted tie with his blue button up. You will always notice his beige suit jacket and pants. But you pretended. Pretending that you never saw him. Believing that it was the only way for you to move on.

And once you saw your new boyfriend arrive, you felt happy again. He kissed your forehead and the two of you crossed the street with his arm wrapped around your shoulders to keep you warm. You couldn’t help but turn back around. He was already walking away.

You decided to give MinHyuk a chance. He was a celebrity from Korea and you still can’t believe that you were able to catch the attention from one. But, he is a sweet and caring man. Even after his tour in Japan, he found ways to pursue you. So you decided to give him that chance about a month ago.

And within that month, you decided that it was time to leave Japan behind. You wanted to at least listen to Nanami and his warnings. That maybe, you would feel relieved and maybe at peace with your own self. So, MinHyuk helped you. He helped you find an apartment nearby his and you job searched. He helped you fly to Korea and back home to Japan. He helped you move everything and you couldn’t be more grateful with his help, even though you kept declining it.

You wanted to step outside one more time before you leave. You walked everywhere, to all the places you loved going to with Nanami. You allowed the tears flow down as you walked down memory lane. You stopped at the bakery, the place where you two first met and where you fell in love. You remember walking with him for hours, just talking. Talking about everything as if you two were the best of friends.

You remembered him confessing his feelings and the life he truly lived. You remembered worrying about him every time he called you when he was on his way to a mission. You remember the relief when he returned back home to you. You remembered the scary news about these new enemies they met. And you remembered the night that he had to leave you, all for you to live a normal and safe life.

“God I miss you,” you said to yourself. It was getting late. MinHyuk had already text you goodnight. Your phone rang. It was your best friend.

“You didn’t answer me earlier!” she exclaimed. You lightly laughed. After buying your bag and your mini date, you fell asleep.

“Yeah I fell asleep.”

“Stop doing overtime.”

“I know, I need to take it easy with the overtime.” She is protective of you. She made sure you were okay everyday after the break up. Your best friend started to hate Nanami for hurting you but you constantly reassured her that it was for the best. You reassured her that you were okay even though you weren’t. You felt your shoulders ache and you couldn’t help but massage them.

“The moving went okay? You’re ready?” You found an empty bench. You couldn’t help but feel as if someone was there, but you needed the rest.

“Yeah everything’s done. Everything’s moved in. I’m taking my flight tomorrow morning,” you informed.

“Oh! You’re moving in with him too?” she asked curiously. You sighed and shook your head.

“No, I’m not moving in with him. God, we just started dating last month.”

“Will you be okay though? Is it gonna help you forget him?” I frowned. I feel like crying again.

“No,” I said quietly. “I’ll never forget him. Kento-kun means everything to me.” And he does. You believed he was the person for you. And you kept telling yourself that he is your person but it was completely wrong timing.

“You still love him.”

“Yeah, I’ll always love him.”

“Well, I hope you let MinHyuk in your life more,” she said. “He’s really good to you. But also, be careful! Fans in Korea get crazy. Like crazy, crazy.” You couldn’t help but laugh. He did warn you about that. He sort of gave you an option to back out. But if you gave Nanami a chance with his dangerous life, you might as well give MinHyuk that chance, too.

“I’ll be careful. I’ll talk to you tomorrow okay?”

“Alright. Have a safe flight.”

You finally hung up. The moon is so bright tonight. You admired the moon, letting Nanami take over your thoughts again. You suddenly felt the weight off your shoulders. You touched your shoulders with relief. You can’t help but believe that Nanami really is there, somehow protecting you still. You let the tears flow again. You leaned back against the bench, eyes never leaving the bright moon. Maybe he is there. You wanted to go over by the tree but you decided against it. You didn’t want to feel the disappointment if he wasn’t but you didn’t want to feel stuck the moment you see him. Because the times you saw him through the crowds in Tokyo, you were ready to throw your life away just for him.

“The moon is beautiful isn’t it, Kento-kun.” If he was there, you were hoping that he heard you. But you also like to ask yourself that on some nights when the moon was visible outside at night. You finally stood up, ready to go back home. “I hope you’re doing well.”

This time, you didn’t turn back. You continued your walk back home. You continued to let him consume your thoughts and consume the what ifs.

What if you were still with him? Would you still be filled with the worry and tears with thoughts of him not returning back home. Would he had left the sorcerer life? Would you two be able to have a future? The thoughts stayed in the back of your mind.

But for now, you mentally put Nanami in a chest and locked it up. It was time to move on. Time to let the pain eventually leave.

#jjk #jjk kento #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanamin #nanami x you #nanami angst #jjk angst #nanami fanfic #kento nanami #jjk x reader #jjk x you

[diaispunk]

Days of you and me

Pairing: Jackson! Joel x F!Reader

Inspiration: Future Days- Pearl Jam

Warnings: TLOU 2 SPOILERS, just sad as fuck tbh.

You could feel the sun dancing through the window of your home. The wind gently rustling the trees outside. In all senses of the word, it was a beautiful day. A proper spring day. Not too cold. Not too hot. Perfect. Rolling over to face the window, you swore you could hear the sound of a guitar playing outside of the small suburban home. Getting up out of bed, your bare feet padded across the hardwood floor as you approached the window. As you looked outside, there he was, perched on a spare log, strumming away at his guitar. Smiling to yourself, you gently placed your palm against the glass, simply admiring for all that he was.

A living, breathing work of art. The entire world went still as you watched your husband do what he did best, simply living. Unable to contain yourself. You grabbed his coat and made your way down to the kitchen and grabbed two fresh cups of coffee. Warm and rich, just like him. All bundled up in his coat, you made your way outside, making sure to keep your eyes on the mugs and the ground as you walked so you wouldn’t be the victim of a stray rock or twig, and go tumbling down. Keeping your breath steady, you followed the sound of the guitar. However, as you made your way over to him, you began to hear his voice in the wind.

“If I ever were to lose you

I'd surely lose myself…”

You have always admired Joel’s singing voice, it was rich and deep like Tennessee whiskey. It was home to you. The scent of coffee filled your senses as you followed his voice, still not yet looking up, for Joel had always been your Compass. Something to follow when you felt lost. The light you looked for in the darkness, despite your version to the fireflies.

“Everything I have found dear

I've not found by myself

Try and sometimes you'll succeed

To make this man of me

All my stolen missing parts

I've no need for anymore.”

You always knew that Joel sang the song for you. It was his way of expressing how much he loved you, even when it got difficult to verbalize his feelings. However, these moments where you got to see Joel vulnerable, filled your mind, body and soul with pride. Pride in the life you had built with him. Joining in, you felt your chest swell with warmth.

“I believe

And I believe 'cause I can see

Our future days

Days of you and me”

You felt the way that Joel’s fingers masterfully worked the strings of the guitar. The one he had made. With your back turned to the log he was sitting on, you stared back up at the house. The place you had built your entire life. A rebirth of the one you lost on outbreak day. Before you knew it, you felt hot tears begin to stream down your cheeks as you hugged Joel’s coat closer to your ever freezing body. In that moment, you swear you felt his arms rap around you. A sensation you had lost that day. The day that Abby took him away from you. Oh, how desperately you wanted him to kiss your forehead and tell you it was going to be all right one last time.

“Sometimes it feels like you’re still here…”

You whispered, the autumn wind, carrying your voice and fallen leaves in a lovesick dance. Almost as if the wind was delivering a message to Joel. Reaching out to him. Looking towards the horizon, you swear you could smell his cologne on the breeze. Deep down a part of you knew he never truly left you. You know that he couldn’t do that. For all of the time you two had spent together, he was all over you. He protected you from the hell outside of Jackson. He had given you a life. Opened himself up for you to love him. Before you knew it, your sobs echoed through the silent Autumn air as you clutched hugged yourself, wearing his coat. If you listened hard enough to the wind, it was as though he was reminding you that he was there and that he loved you.

You stayed outside for several hours. Sipping a coffee like you would when he was still here. Before that day, the two of you had made it a point to spend time together in the morning. To wake up together. To live together. To honor him, you didn’t let that time in the morning go to waste. Grabbing his guitar, you immediately remembered that he taught you how to play future days. How to play your song. Taking a deep breath, you gently placed your fingers on the fretboard and began to play, your soft voice echoing through the backyard.

“Back when I was feeling broken

I focused on a prayer

You came deep as any ocean

Did something out there hear?

All the complexities and games

No one wins, but somehow, they're still played

All the missing crooked hearts

They may die, but in us they live on..”

As you sang, you heard the back door open. Glancing over, there she was. Ellie. Clearly exhausted from her lack of sleep, she wordlessly sat down next to you and rested her head on your shoulder. You knew Joel would’ve been beyond ecstatic to see her. You knew deep down that Ellie considered him her dad, and Joel considered her his daughter. It was beautiful.

“I believe

And I believe 'cause I can see

Our future days

Days of you and me

When hurricanes and cyclones raged

When wind turned dirt to dust

When floods they came or tides they raised

Ever closer became us

All the promises at sundown

I've meant them like the rest

All the demons used to come 'round

I'm grateful now they've left

So persistent in my ways

Hey angel, I am here to stay

No resistance, no alarms

Please, this is just too good to be gone

I believe

And I believe 'cause I can see

Our future days

Days of you and me

You and me

Days of you and me”

As you strummed the final chord, you felt Ellie’s ever silent tears soaking your shoulder. Gently setting Joel’s guitar down against the wood, you wordlessly wrapped your arms around her.

“I miss him…”

She whispered, her voice dry and soft from the sheer amount of crying she had done in the past several weeks.

“I know, honey. I know.”

You spoke softly, gently stroking her hair. And in that moment, you swear you heard Joel’s voice.

“I love you, sugar…”

You smiled softly as you imagine him sitting with his arms around you and Ellie. His arms around his girls.

“I love you too, Joel.”

#angst #joel miller #joel x reader #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #tlou2 #death mention tw

[dark-ambition]

“I saw Lily Brown lose her hand in the oil refinery,

Oh so clear, like autumn dew drops scattered on the air.”

The lyrics of the song were slow, filled with melancholy, and yet somehow wistful at the same time, like the melody was trying to call back on the old days when the proverbial Lily was still alive, trying to preserve the memory of her under the cruel and unforgiving manner of her death. It echoed openly in the large, wide open space of Pentious’s workshop, his voice rising and falling with the tune of the pitch that he had memorized to perfection in his mind, singing openly as his arms worked a wrench along an array of hard metal bolts that he sought to tighten.

“I saw Lily Brown when the chain snapped quick as lighting,

And she fell, quick as anything onto the grating there.”

His tail slowly thumped along the ground to the beat that was only kept in tune by his own sense of rhythm, creating a dull, heavy thud that rang out in the empty space along with his words, creating an echo chamber that seemed to ricochet back to him and filled his ears. If he closed his eyes, it almost sounded like a chorus of voices singing along with him.

“I felt Lily Brown gasp her last inside my arms,

And she was warm, and then was cold,

Grease slick in her hair.”

He can’t help but tilt his head back a little as he sang, feeling his heart starting to pound a bit harder in his chest as he began to get encompassed by the music’s beat and song, pausing in the heavy turning motions of the wrench in his arms as he turned another bolt and fastened it into it’s proper place, unable to resist the memories from bubbling up. The smell of sulfur, of chemical fumes stinging his nose and making him feel light headed, of bleached leather, of worn boots pounding the ground above and around him as hundreds of workers, spiked in muck and grime, wandered around him, all the while smokestacks filled the sky with black.

“Who knew Lily brown?

She was lonesome just like everyone,

And her eyes shone gold at midnight in the sodium glare.”

He remembered these songs. He remembered them well. Some were ones that he had been taught as a boy, listening to the chorus of men and women singing and belting out the lyrics as they shoveled coal into furnaces or shoved needles through chemical soaked cloth, others were around campfires, bars rotten with mildew late at night. Some he had made an effort to record whenever he found them, as they had come after he had already died. But he always remembered these songs, and the familiarity was a comfort like none other.

“I knew Lily Brown

She was kind when I was lonely

Took my shift from four 'til noontime

And she combed my hair.”

It was almost amusing, how much these songs brought him comfort when they stood for a time that was his most awful and lowest point. He didn’t quite know why singing them was so much of a nice feeling to him. Perhaps it was because the melody was easy to learn, the rhythm meant to be repetitive, unchanging, simple, meant to be as complex as the sound of thundering boots marching along to the hiss and flow of machines and the work made to power them. Meant to be sung in groups, and yet he sung alone.

“Who was Lily Brown

Before she was one more body?

A crisp malfunction soon replaced and soon repaired.”

A fate he easily could’ve met that day. A fate that many still met now, in the depths of Hell, and one that somehow has still yet to touch him. He had stopped working, the wrench held loosely in both of his fists, eyes closed as he continued to sing, his voice being the only one to fill his ears, the only thing he could hear. His own voice in an echo chamber, singing songs that only he knew, and only he remembered.

“I bore Lily Brown after she lay cold and rigid

And the earth was soft and yielding in the summer air.”

His tail continued to beat. His voice continued to fill the air. For a moment, it felt like even the room around him had faded away. That he was singing into an abyss that could do nothing but simply echo back, an abyss with no tongue and no voice of their own.

“I loved Lily Brown who lost her life to the oil refinery

Oh so clear like autumn dew drops scattered on the air.”

He slowly stops the slow thudding beat of his tail. He stops singing. His eyes slowly open as the sound of his voice fades from his ears. There was no one there.

He couldn’t help but realize just how empty his workshop felt when he was the only one in it.

#all of hell will learn to fear the serpent! (pentious ic) #drabble #long post

[pwarkluv]

❝ idk you yet ❞ - p.js

park jisung x reader | angsty, fluff | 1.6k words 

WARNINGS | TW: mentions blood, abuse, drug and alcohol abuse, smoking, lowercase au, non-idol au, high school au, badboy!jisung, mature language/cursing, reader is like an angel sent from heaven for him, jisungie just in need of love :(

SUMMARY | being an outcast has him wondering if he’ll ever be happy. cue you, the new girl, stumbling into his life (literally).

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “idk you yet” by alexander23! also AHHH this is my 100 followers special fic :) THANK U LOVES FOR 100 IM SO SHOCKED CJSBFKEJD <33 the writing is a little crappy because i’m currently on my period and my patience for sitting down and writing this went down halfway through lol but I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, ENJOY THIS JISUNG FIC BC JISUNG MY BABIE AND SO ARE YOU GUYS!

whenever anybody thinks of park jisung, they think of the chains and dark clothing he wears. they think about the faint smell of smoke and men’s cologne that follows him wherever he goes. 

they think of the boy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. 

but what they don’t think about are bruises on his face he fails to hide whenever he walks into school, the dejected look on his face whenever random people give him disapproving looks, the way his smile slowly faded into a permanent frown wherever he went. 

jisung quickly accepted his reputation at school and in their little town, not having enough energy to feel insecure about it like before.

the only group of people that even remotely cared about the boy were his best friends in the whole entire world, nct dream.

they were outcasts just like him, the most “fucked up group of boys” in their town (the people’s words, not theirs).

see, they were your typical bad boy group straight out of your typical fanfic. bad grades, smoking in their free time, getting into fights, always being late to class; not a single person had hope in them.

but behind their scary and intimidating facade, all seven boys were big softies with misunderstood hearts and difficult backgrounds.

people were just too dense to look into it, only judging them based on their looks and personality on the outside. 

❝ how can you miss someone you’ve never met ❞

love was a foreign thing to jisung, the only form of love he’s ever felt being from his friends. his parents were… interesting to say the least. 

jisung’s father was a hard-core alcoholic, his mother being a major druggie. with no siblings in the house, jisung was usually their main target to push around and beat up.

and so because of this at a young age jisung learned to distance himself from other people and found different ways to release stress.

he started smoking when he was 14, the warm and hazy feeling of the smoke entering his lungs comforting him.

if jisung humored himself enough, maybe smoking could count as his first love. it was always there for him, never leaving him alone even if he wanted to quit. 

he relied on it knowing it was the only constant in his life. 

now of course the boy has heard of proper love, love like in the movies or shitty romance songs he hears on the radio.

and he won’t lie, there were moments he thought about what it felt like to be in love. but he knew that would never happen, at least not in their small town anyways. 

he just wanted to be loved. 

jisung would never admit it but sometimes he’d be jealous of the old couples walking down the street in their own world like it was just them two against the universe. he was jealous of the happy kids running around, their mother’s and father’s fondly smiling at their child. he was jealous of all the “normal” kids in his neighborhood. 

jisung wanted that, craved that. 

but most importantly, the boy wanted love.

❝ cause i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

everything hurt. 

his head, his body, his mind, his heart; everything was in pain.

jisung walked down the empty streets of their city, a trail of blood following behind him as he accepted his fate. the boy was 99% sure he had a concussion and at the very least had a few broken ribs. 

he felt like this was the end, and he was ready.

-

wandering aimlessly around town, you decided to take a late night walk to familiarize yourself around the area. you had just moved into the city a week ago, spending all seven days trying to help your family unpack and rearrange your cozy new home. 

now that you were finally free of the smell of tape and the dust of the boxes, you decided it was best to get to know the place you were living in. 

the autumn air seemed to settle at night as you shivered, cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket of some sort. the sight of a convenience store up ahead of you brought you relief as you rummaged through your pockets wondering if you had enough money for ramen.

your steps became excited as you found a couple dollars, fondly thinking about what type of ramen you should buy. you became so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice the poor boy who was staggering in front of you, or the trail of blood he left behind. 

-

jisung pushed himself to reach the convenience store a couple feet away from him, in desperate need of supplies to at least try and fix himself. 

if it didn’t help in any way then oh well, maybe death was indeed an option. 

grinding his teeth though the pain, he did not expect to feel a small body bump into him. had he been at his regular health, jisung would’ve easily been able to keep still but because of how much blood he was losing the boy was knocked down like a bowling pin.

“holy fuck.” jisung cursed the feeling of the concrete floor colliding with his ribs. he didn’t even notice the girl who had bumped into him sitting on the floor dumbfounded, freaking out over his state.

“oh my fucking god.” the girl said, capturing his attention. jisung glared at the stranger, mentally acknowledging the fact she was pretty. 

but her being pretty won’t get you anywhere, he scolded himself. she’ll leave you just like everyone else.

“a-are you okay?” she said, eyes glancing at his black eye. jisung rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “does it look like i’m okay?” he replied, his deep voice catching the girl off guard. 

“just, fuck off.” jisung said closing his eyes as he laid back down on the floor, knowing he couldn’t force himself to get up anymore. he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know she left, hearing the sound of her footsteps walk away.

the boy sighed as he laid idly on the floor, wondering what sin he committed to lead him to where he is now. not even she wanted to stay, the tears threatening to fall as his thoughts buried him alive.

“why can’t i just die?” jisung said out loud, asking no one but himself.

“because i won’t let you.” a voice replied as jisung forced himself to sit up in confusion. it was the same girl he had bumped into, but this time she had a first aid kit with her. he gave her a lost look despite knowing what she was here to do. 

jisung’s mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that a total stranger would even bother to help him. 

“now sit up.” she said softly as she bent down to open the box, the boy slowly followed her instructions. “i’m sorry this might sting.” she said though jisung didn’t mind because she was much prettier up close.

-

the next ten minutes were you trying to fix his wounds against the shitty chairs outside the convenience store.

jisung didn’t even bother mentioning his broken ribs, not wanting you to freak out. you cleaned up what you could and the boy was beyond grateful for that.

you subconsciously rubbed his back in a comforting way whenever you’d apply alcohol to his open wounds, trying to ease the sting. you held his hand for him to hold and though he was a big boy and had a high pain tolerance, he still gave it a squeeze just to keep your hand there.  what the actual fuck is this feeling, jisung asked himself as he watched your determined figure work on him.

it was cold and in order to better work on his wounds, the boy offered to give you his hoodie which strangely had no traces of blood on it. you gladly accepted, the faint smell of blood and his cologne engulfing you up. 

the sight of you in something so big and so him made his chest swell in pride.

jisung couldn’t even formulate a sentence as you cursed at the time once you finished patching him up, fleeing the scene before he could say anything with a small smile, his hoodie still on. 

❝ and can you find me soon because i’m in my head ❞

the thought of your soft hands on his, your voice, your whole presence; everything about you couldn’t seem to leave the poor boy’s mind. it was now monday, and waiting for his class to start already made him want to go home.

if only i got her name, jisung daydreamed with his head resting on the palm of his hand. the classroom was loud and bright, people occasionally giving him looks but the boy didn’t mind. 

“jisungie~ did you hear we have a new kid?” jaemin asked, poking the boy’s cheeks. the boy only gave him a pointed look before sighing. 

“hyung i don’t really care.” jisung replied, looking back out the window. 

jaemin only gave him an offended look before grumbling a bit. “i don’t know maybe you will.” he muttered under his breath as their teacher walked into the room. 

❝ yeah i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

their homeroom teacher stood in front of the class, jisung tuning out his voice. the boy once again sighed as his teacher called for their attention, explaining they had a new girl in their class. “now make her feel welcomed,” he said before turning towards the door.

“y/n, please come in.” the teacher said and jisung almost fell out of his seat when he saw you walking through the door with the same smile you gave him a couple days ago.

“hi i’m y/n and i hope we can get along.” you bowed to the class, a familiar hoodie you were wearing catching his attention. 

isn’t that mine, jisung thought to himself as he bit back a smile knowing you kept it all along. 

#park jisung #park jisung x reader #park jisung x y/n #park jisung fanfic #park jisung imagine #park jisung imagines #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream x y/n #nct dream fanfic #nct dream imagine #nct dream imagines #haung renjun #lee jeno #lee mark #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #na jaemin #zhong chenle #nct angst #nct 127 #wayv #nct 127 imagine #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x y/n #huang renjun x y/n #huang renjun x reader #lee jeno x reader

[just-a-really-tall-girl-tbh]

Grounded

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped and forced to reveal secrets of the pack

Pairing: Derek X Reader

Warnings: Blood, torture, swearing

Word count: 2605

Original piece please don’t copy

The school bell rang for the final time that day, a collective sigh of gratitude echoed in the room, the teenagers grateful to be released from the maths teacher’s class. Gathering your books, you stacked them in a neat pile before exiting the room, offering a small smile to your defeated teacher. It wasn’t her fault maths sucked and no one enjoyed it, you did feel bad for her on some level but also who the hell would willingly dedicate their life to teaching numbers?

Entering the hallway, you made your way through the sea of teenagers, everyone desperate to go home for the weekend. Reaching your locker, you grabbed the couple books you needed, shoving them into your backpack, thinking about the homework you had due on Monday you sighed. The door to your locker slammed shut before you could close it.

“Hey, you ready?” Stiles smiled.

“I told you I can walk home.” You rolled your eyes, walking away from the boy. Surprised by your quick movement, Stiles jogged to catch up to you, throwing an arm lazily around your shoulders.

“I know you can walk home but why would you when you have me?”

Exiting the main doors of the high school, you welcomed the fresh warm air, the smell of angsty teens left behind you. Reaching the end of the pavement, you saw the jeep parked a few cars away.

“Stiles I want to walk.” You turned to face the boy.

“Y/n, you heard what Derek said okay? All these recent attacks? The break ins and thefts? He doesn’t want you alone.” Stiles tried to reason with you. Knowing the recent spike in criminal activity was less than likely to involve the supernatural, you felt safe walking the 20-minute trip home. In fact, you enjoyed the peace it brought you. Half of the walk was through the woods, a quiet haven from the busy high school, and being autumn, you relished in the yellow and orange leaves that swept through the small woodlands.

“Stiles. It’s 20 minutes. I’ll text you when I get home okay?” Stiles sighed.

“You know Derek is going to kill me if I let you, you know, that right? You like the idea of alive Stiles because I do! And I am not letting you be the reason I don’t make it to my 20’s okay?”

“Derek doesn’t have the balls to kill you.” You turned on the heel of your foot, headed towards the woods, leaving a defeated Stiles in your wake.

“I’m telling Derek you said he has no balls!” He called after you. You let out a small laugh, grabbing your headphones from your backpack, and your phone from your pocket, you scrolled through your playlist, deciding today was the perfect day for (Your current favourite song).

Entering the woods, you felt a rush of calm wash over you, the stressful week was pushed to the back of your mind, your thoughts centred on the surrounding woods. You stepped over exposed roots and around large bushes, glancing up at the sky you watched as the wind swept through the foliage, the ageing leaves dancing in the light breeze. The sun peaked through the cracks, determined to reach the forest floor, providing the perfect amount of light for your stroll. The floor of the woods had been coated in fallen leaves, leaving a blanket of red and orange below your feet. Taking a moment to stop and appreciate the tranquillity the forest provided you, you felt your phone buzz in you pocket.

Home yet? I’m this close to sending out a search party!

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head you began typing a response.

You need to…

Before you could finish you felt a knock to your head, your vision distorted, the soft sound of music playing through your headphones which were now next to you on the forest floor, was the only thing you could hear before everything went black.

***

Another blow straight to your stomach knocked the wind out of you. Coughing and spluttering you attempted to regain your breath, each inspiration hurting more than the last.

“Oh, you are so going to regret that.” You mumbled.

Leaning to the side of the chair you spat a mixture of saliva and blood to the ground, you couldn’t tell where the source of the blood was coming from, maybe your lip, or maybe the inside of your mouth. Too many lacerations to your face meant it all blended into one.

You raised your eyes to meet your rival, struggling to see through the blood you saw one man wiping his fists on an old rag, your blood coating his knuckles. He faced a woman to your left, who sat with one bent knee up on a bench. Her back leaning against the wall adjacent to you, a smug grin on her face.

You rotated your wrists which were bound behind you, the thick rope digging into your skin. Your ankles were bound too, tied to the legs of the wooden chair you sat on.

“You’re going to tell us what we want sweetie, its just a matter of how beat up that pretty face is going to be before you tell us.” The woman commented, as she played with her fingernails, pushing the cuticles back. If she was trying to look disinterested, she was doing a great job. But you were ready for this. You trained for this. You knew what was coming, and if it meant keeping your friends, the pack, safe, then you would gladly take whatever they threw at you.

The mans fist connected with your jaw once more, snapping you out of your daze. The room began to spin around you, and your vision blurred. Trying to recenter yourself you pulled at your wrists, the pain of the rope grinding into your skin giving you something to focus on.

“Alright careful there, big guy, we need her conscious if we’re going to get that information.” The woman stood from her seat, striding slowly over to you, before bending at the waist in front of you. She reached out to grab your face, but as soon as her fingers made contact with your skin you pulled away. A stern look, on your face made the woman let out a small laugh.

“You’re a tough one aren’t you.” She turned her head, almost admiring your battered body before her. “Too bad that doesn’t mean shit around here.” Grabbing your hair, she yanked your head back, exposing your neck to the room. Moving to stand behind you she held out her other hand, gesturing towards the man in front of you. Without a word exchanged, the man grabbed a knife from a nearby table, its blade glinting in the moonlight the small window above you allowed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea who you are dealing with do you?” The woman whispered in your ear, her grip on your hair only tightening as she neared the knife to your throat. You felt the cold edge, lightly cross your neck, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough for you to avoid swallowing.

Taking a deep breath in you closed your eyes. Grounding yourself was apart of your training, something that was drilled into you from the beginning. Breathing in again, you picked up on the different smells the room produced, sweat from the man in front of you, poorly masked by his cheap cologne. The sweet smell of the woman’s hair from behind, her locks dangling beside your face. The overwhelming metallic smell of blood being the most potent. You changed your focus to your heartbeat. Feeling it pounding against your chest begging to be released you pictured your heart slowing, its contractions reducing with every breath you took. Steadying your breathing was next. Cautious of the blade still connected to your neck you breathed in through your nose, holding in for a few seconds before releasing softly through your mouth. Repeating those steps, you were able to regain some stability. You were still in the same crappy scenario but at least now you were calmer. A panicking person is an interrogators wet dream. A calm person, their nightmare.

Sensing your self-control increase, the woman let go of your hair, moving the knife from your neck to the table beside the man. Standing before you once more, she knelt in front of you, keeping one knee up for balance, she waited for your eyes to open once more. Regaining the control, you almost lost, you felt strong enough to open your eyes once more. Staring at you the woman barely moved, she was searching your eyes for something, her expression a mixture of shock and impressed.

“You’re not afraid.” Her words barely above a whisper. Your only response was a return glare. A small smile creeping on to the face of your kidnapper. “They trained you well.”

Standing, she turned to the man behind her, whispering something in his ear before turning back to face you, her arms crossed against her chest. The man dropped the rag he was still holding and left the room, the sound of the door locking behind him.

“Let’s cut the bullshit honey. You have information I need. And I know I’m not going to break you, not by torturing you anyways. So, let’s try something else, shall we?” The woman began to pace back and forth in front of you, the small room only allowing her a few steps before being forced to turn around again. Your eyes followed her, left and right, before she stopped in front of you once more, still facing forward.

Taking in a sharp breath, she spoke. “How’s your sister doing?” She turned to face you. Refusing to let her know she was finally making some progress with you, you remained staring at her. Resuming her pacing she continued speaking.

“She’s what 5 now? Gosh so young. But you know what they say right? They grow up so fast.” Your eyes tracked the woman, more intently than before. This woman knew your family. Something that was always off limits when the pack was involved. Your attempts at shielding them from the supernatural had been successful, keeping that part of your life private even from Derek. And here this woman stood, threatening them. Threating to take away your motivation to make the world safer. Unfazed by your lack of reaction the woman carried on.

“Soon enough she’ll be going to high school, making friends, maybe even realising who her sister really is.” She stopped before you once more, bending at the waist she placed her hands on the arms of the chair you were bound to. “You didn’t think you could protect them, forever did you?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. No amount of calm breathing could ground you now. “Aw babe.” Her hand raised to your cheek, ready to wipe away the falling tear. You only pulled away from her once more, hating the way her skin on yours felt. “Don’t tell me I hit a nerve, did I? Sucks doesn’t it. Well, there is one way of ensuring your little family stay naïve to the world around them.” She stood tall once more, her voice now deeper, more sinister than before. “Tell me what I want to know.”

You had no choice, right? She threatened your family, your sister. You protected them from so long, only for you to be the reason they are in danger. Looking down at your lap, tears hit your thighs unable to control them you simply let them fall. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at the woman before you, a smirk present on her face which made it so much harder to say what you were about to. But the images of your sister raced through your mind. The way her hair shone in the autumn sun, the way her smile reached her eyes when she was really, truly happy, the way she greeted you after school every day by running down the front path directly into your arms. That was the highlight of your day, finishing school and-

Wait

You never responded to Stiles.

You never texted him back, and the kidnappers were kind enough to bring your phone into the room with you – hoping to get some information.

Your eyes moved to the door behind the woman, a loud crash followed by a heavy grunt sounded from behind the entranceway. The woman whipped her head around, only to be met by silence. She slowly approached the doorway.

“Adrian…?”

Silence

The woman turned back to you, unsure of herself. You only had a small smirk as a response. Before she could question you, the door busted open, barely remaining on its hinges, a rush of dust filled the room. Watching ahead as the dust clouds engulfed the woman, you heard a deafening roar followed by a petrified scream. Small thuds followed, as the dust reached your eyes you began coughing, the sudden pain in your ribs swiftly returning.

Two hands were placed on your shoulders, looking up you were met by two green eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” A worried Derek scanned your face, concern riddled him as he saw the multiple cuts and bruising before him. You could only nod, the dust denying you the ability to speak.

Moving behind you, he effortlessly cut the ties that bound your hands, then your legs. Using the arms of the chair to stable yourself, you attempted to stand, wincing when the pain became too much. Derek moved to your side, wrapping your arm over his shoulder. Carefully placing his arm around you, resting his hand on your hip he accepted most of your weight, attempting to make standing and walking easier. As you took a few steps forward, the dust cleared from your eyes and you were able to regain focus. Looking forward you saw the woman who threatened you, her back against the same wall the door was, her skin now covered in blood, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. Scott stood before her, looking down at the defeated woman, his eyes still red and his claws still present.

Clearing your throat, you stopped walking, causing Derek to pause and look over to you. You peered down at the woman, no longer in a position of power, she looked smaller, more gaunt than before. Her eyes showed she was petrified, providing some comfort to you after what she did.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” a whisper of a smirk present on your lips.

Proceeding to step forward through the doorway you were met by a panting Stiles, his arms stretched out in front of him, you couldn’t tell him to stop before his body connected with yours. You inhaled sharply, grimacing as pain rang throughout your body.

Derek used his free hand to grab Stiles by the shoulder, pulling him away from you, a small growl forming in his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry of course you’re hurt shit sorry.” The boy stumbled over his words, his eyes finally taking in the battered sight before him. He moved to the side of you not occupied by Derek, his help was welcomed by you, suddenly feeling lightheaded from standing.

The three of you began walking forward towards the exit of the building.

“Is now a good time to tell Derek, you think he has no balls?” Stiles piped up earning a death glare from Derek. “No? Okay we can come back to that.” You used whatever energy you had left to shake your head.

#teenwolf #teen #wolf #teenwolf X reader #Teenwolfmtv #teenwolf fandom #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #derek hale #derek hale fanfiction #Derek imagine #Derek hale fanfic #derekxreader #Imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #wolfpack #tyler hoechlin #tyler #hoechlin #Derek #hale

[randomshyperson]

Hi!! Hope you're doing good and drinking water :) May i request something? 😁 I was listening to "the 1" by Taylor Swift (queen) and got me thinking about a Wanda X Reader story where maybe idk they dated in high school/college but ended cause whatever reason but they never actually stopped liking eachother (yknow, like the song) and then they just meet somewhere and get to talk and you know... happy ending lol But only if you like the idea really. Have a good one!

Hello anon! Here it is, hope you like it. It’s short but is sweet, i hope you like it.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - The One

Summary: Prompt based “A story where Reader and Wanda broke up and never stopped loving each other. Inspired by the song “The 1″ from Taylor Swift.

Words:  2.531k    ///// Read on AO3

Warnings: None.

Marks: @mionemymind @wandamaximoffpuppy

Wanda Maximoff came into your life during autumn.

You were both in the same art history class, and she lent you a pen.

All it took was two dates, and you were completely in love. Unfortunately, as quickly as it started, your relationship burned out.

You wish you had a big plot justification, with betrayals and twists and turns to justify to your friends your emotional misery when it ended, but the only reason was the complete emotional immaturity you had.

There were fights, and accusations, and so much jealousy. And you wish so much that you had gotten over it, but you couldn't. And then Wanda was gathering the clothes that she had in your dormitory, and throwing the key at you.

You swore you wouldn't cry anymore, because there were no more tears after so many weeks, but you kept going. Until all that was left was the bitter feeling that you had ruined everything and lost the most important person in your life.

It had been more than two years since you two had broken up, and you still had the number saved on your cell phone with a heart emoji, even though the conversation had been archived a long time ago. And then you were walking out of the main building at NYU, and your friend Natasha Romanoff called out to you as she walked quickly toward you.

- Hey, girl! - she said with a smile. - How are you?

You shrugged as you walked with her around the campus toward the secondary building, where the Philosophy classrooms were.

- I’m surviving. - You joke with a weak smile, Nat looked at you worriedly, but you shook your head, trying to reassure her. - And how are you doing? 

- Fine, I think. - She says, entwining your arms. - I miss you, but things are fine.

You nod, looking forward. You knew that you had been absent in your friends' lives, simply because it seemed that things no longer made much sense since you were no longer with Wanda.

- Did you hear about Bucky and Sam? - she asked, and you let out a sigh.

- Yes, I... I don't know if I'm going to make it.

- Ah, Y/N, please. - She says. - It won't be the same if you are not there.

Natasha was talking about your friends' engagement party, which you were invited to a week ago. You hesitated, because all of Bucky and Sam's friends were invited. And that included Wanda.

You let out a sigh.

- I will make an effort to be there, I promise. - You assure her with a smile. 

- You don't want to see Wanda, do you? - Nat asks. And you look at the ground. - Look, I just... I never really understood why you two broke up. But maybe it will be good to see her, you know. Maybe you two need to talk after all.

You shrug, feeling the familiar sadness take over your chest every time you think of Wanda. 

- Let's talk about something else okay? - You ask her with a weak smile and Natasha nods, changing the subject as you two walk along the campus.

//-//

You straightened your clothes before knocking on the door. It had been almost two weeks since you had spoken to Natasha, and the day of the party had finally arrived. You saw many cars parked outside the Barnes residence, and were not surprised when one of the family friends answered the door instead of the owners.

You smiled and greeted the gentleman, saying that you were a friend of the grooms, and he smiled back when he let you in. You overheard someone say that it was better to leave the door open because of the number of guests, and you let out a small laugh. 

The house was full, and it took a few minutes for you to find Bucky, who looked extremely happy. He smiled slightly surprised when he saw you.

- Hey, you're here! - he said, walking over to you. - It's so good to see you!

Bucky hugged you tight and you laughed lightly, saying that it was very good to see him too.

- How are things going? - you asked as you broke the embrace. - Are you feeling anxious?

Bucky laughed, putting his hands in his pockets.

- Everything is working well. My parents are helping me and Sammy to organize everything. - he says, smiling. - And damn, yes. I can't wait for the ceremony.

You laugh, nodding in understanding. You talk for a few more minutes until Sam comes to check on the groom.

- Wow, look at you Wilson! - You exclaim when you see him, and he opens his arms toward you, grinning contently. You hug each other tightly. - It's good to see you, my friend.

- Yeah, it's great to see you too, stranger. - He smiles back, and then you part. - Glad you could make it.

- I couldn't miss the first wedding of the group. - You joked and made them laugh. 

And then they were talking about the preparations for the wedding, and the family members who had come from far away, and you were smiling and laughing at the stories. But everything seemed to slow down when your gaze focused on someone behind Bucky, the only person who always had the ability to capture your full attention.

Wanda had just walked through the front door, and was taking off her coat. You barely noticed Pietro standing beside her, as your heart started racing at seeing her again. Sam called out to you a few times, until you blinked and looked at him.

- Wow, you really haven't changed at all. - he teased. - Three years and you are still completely out of breath when you see her.

You blushed, telling him to shut up, but Bucky and Sam just giggled. And then you swallowed hard, because Wanda was looking around and her gaze met yours.

Your gas in surprise, and you told the couple in front of you that you needed a drink, then you rushed to escape the room.

You ended up on the balcony, trying to recover from the intensity of the previous moment, completely affected by seeing Wanda again. 

You thought it was the best to greet the people you knew at the party, and after talking to Clint and his girlfriend Laura, and also to Steve, Tony and Bruce, you made your way to the family circles. Bucky's parents and siblings were very friendly, and Sam's family was very warm, and they all hugged you and smiled. And then you were walking around the house again, and Nat approached you, two drinks in her hands, and one of them she handed to you.

- You really came. - She said with a smile. - Bucky just told me and I didn't believe it.

- The faith you have in me is touching. - You sneered with irony and she laughed before taking a sip of her drink. You looked at your own glass suspiciously.

- Is this champagne? - you asked, and she nodded, making you sigh. You put the glass on the balcony table near you. - Thanks but I'm driving.

Nat grumbled in understanding.

- You're running away from her, aren't you? - She remarked when she noticed your gaze wandering around the room.

- Is it that obvious? 

Nat laughed lightly.

- I suppose you are going to be uncomfortable for the next few minutes, since I just told her I was coming to talk to you and invite her to join me. - She tells you and you turn your face to her sharply with a surprised expression.

- Wait what?

But Nat is smiling past you and then you feel your body tense up as Wanda's voice sounds behind your back. Nat is saying something about how nice it is that everyone is together, while you turn around and you’re probably staring, but you can't react to having Wanda in front of you. Just as beautiful as she was three years ago.

- Hi. - She said a moment later looking up at you, a slight blush on her cheeks. It took a gentle nudge from Nat's elbow on your rib for you to react.

- Hi. - you exclaimed surprised and slightly uncomfortable. - How... How are you?

Wanda smiled awkwardly.

- Good, I... i'm good. And you? - she asked hesitantly. You nodded frantically, trying to smile.

 - Good, good. I... Good.

- Jesus. - You heard Natasha say as she looked at the two of you with a frown. - Okay. I'll put our names in the gymkhana, and you can continue with whatever this is by yourselves.

You scratched your neck uncomfortably as Natasha hurried to leave. 

- So... how are things? - Wanda asked, putting her hands in her pockets.

Ignoring your current anxiety, you assumed a thoughtful expression for a few seconds.

- Things are fine. I’m... I... I'm graduating. - You tell clumsily, running your hands through your hair. - Yeah, I... I'm graduating in a few weeks. 

- Wow, that’s actually really cool. - She comments with a smile. 

- I think so. - You say, laughing nervously. - What about you, Wands, how are you? Are you still studying?

Wanda blushes at the way you call her, looking away. You barely notice the nickname escaping your lips. But then she is smiling, so you don't notice much beyond that.

- Yes, I still have a year to go, but I'm doing well. - she says. You nod in understanding, but then Pietro is joining you two, a smile on his face.

- Wow, it's really good to see you Y/N. - He remarks as soon as he reaches you two and hugs you. You laugh lightly. 

- It's good to see you too, Pietro. - you say when you let go. - I like the beard, by the way.

- Thanks, I'm trying to look older. - He comments with a cocky smile, and you laugh, ignoring the nervousness of having Wanda looking right at you. - I didn't know you would be here today, I heard you were going back to California.

- Oh, yes, I... I am. - You say clumsily, gazing at Wanda quickly. - After I graduate, I'm going back home. I don't really have anything to keep me here.

- That's a shame, really. - Pietro says and you try to focus on his face and not on Wanda's frown. - But I hope you will keep in touch with everyone by skype at least.

He jokes last, and you laugh, nodding. And then he starts asking you about college and your parents, and you answer politely, trying to ignore the nervousness in your stomach that has settled with Wanda's attentive look on you.

- Pietro, would you get me something to drink, please? - Wanda asked after a moment, and you and Pietro looked at her in surprise, but she just smiled innocently, and her brother grumbled, before nodding and leaving. - Can we talk for a moment?

You blinked in confusion, but agree. Wanda took your hand next, and you bit the inside of your cheek, feeling your face flush as she pulled you around the yard, toward a farther area.

When she stopped walking, she let go of your hand, and turned around to face you, looking nervous and a bit anxious.

- Are you really leaving? - She asked with a almost sorrowful expression.

You straightened your posture, frowning slightly.

- Yes, I... Wanda, what is it? 

- Okay, I’m.. I'm going to say this once, because I have to, and then we'll go back to our life as before, okay? - She said hurriedly, closing her eyes for a moment as she took a deep breath while you just stare her. - I'm still in love with you. And I know we broke up two years ago, but I just couldn't move on. And I guess a part of me never will. - She confesses and you feel the air escape from your lungs. - And I need you to know this before you leave, because I almost couldn't come to this party because I knew you would be here. And I can't believe that we were this intense and amazing thing only just for me. - She says last. But you are in shock, so Wanda swallows dryly. - Damn, I'm... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything and…

- I love you. - You confess interrupting her, listening to your heart pounding in your ears.

- W-what?

- I love you. - You repeat breathlessly as you are moving forward and kissing Wanda firmly. She stumbles back in surprise, but you keep your hands on her face, until she sighs in delight and kisses you back with the same intensity. It feels as good as you remember, but eventually you part breathlessly and start talking with your forehead touching. - I'm sorry I ruined things between us. I was stupid, childish and a bloody idiot. But I'm completely in love with you and i have always been. 

Wanda lets out a surprised laugh, her eyes filled with tears. And then she kisses you again.

- God, we are a complete disaster. - She comments as you separate, making you laugh lightly. And then she swallows dryly, stroking your face with her thumbs. - What are we going to do now?

You smile, hugging her waist.

- I'm not going anywhere if you ask me to stay. - You tell her, making her sigh with surprise and happiness.

- Be my girlfriend, then. - She asks, and you let out a giggle. 

- I'd love to. - You say, and then back away a little. - We'll make it work this time, Wanda. I'm going to love you the right way now.

Wanda nods in understanding, looking at you tenderly.

- You have always loved me the right way. - she says. - We just didn't know how to show it properly.

You sigh.

- I missed you. - You say, bringing your foreheads together. 

- I missed you too. - She breathlessly retorts before kissing you again.

The kiss intensified in the next second, and you ended up pushing Wanda against the outer wall of the house, and she sighed into your mouth. God, you missed her taste. Then she sighed against your lips, and you slowed down, because you are literally in an engagement party.

When you parted, you let out a breathless giggle.

- We should get back to the party. - Wanda comments, her face close to yours. You grumble in agreement, before kissing her again, your tongue running slowly and sensually across her mouth, making a warmth rise in the pit of your stomach.

- Wow. - You say breathlessly a moment later, breaking the kiss for breath. Wanda's hands are dangerously low. She lets out a breathless chuckle, her face flushed. You swallow dryly, clearing your throat. - We'd better go before I can't stop.

Wanda smiles, nodding her head in agreement. And then you took a step back, and it was easier to breathe and think clearly.

When you returned to the party, holding hands, Natasha stared at you two and sighed, taking a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket and handing it to Pietro, who had a smug smile on his face. She complained that she had bet that you two would only get back together after the party, while Pietro had bet that it would be during. You and Wanda's faces reddened, but you laughed at the story.

Two years later, you visited Bucky and Sam, but now, the wedding invitation in your hand was yours.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wandaxreader #wandaxyou #wandamaximoffxreader #marvel imagines #wandamaximoff x reader

[rumblelibrary]

Can I have something super soft and sweet with Andrea? I need some content from my cottagecore husband. You can decide whatever you want to do with it!

The Perfect Day [Andrea Marowski x fem!Reader]

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: fluff

A/N: thank you for making me write this lifesaver <3

The soft chirping of the birds woke you up. You stirred lightly, a smile coming across your lips as you felt the soft lavender scent over your young husband skin. You slept holding hands, your forehead against his chest as your eyes got used to the bright light outside the window.

The soft cotton sheets clung around your naked bodies along with some heavier quilted duvet, legs tangled as he breathed slowly still deep into his slumber.

You observed him into his simplest nature, he looked so much younger when asleep, his features perfect as kissed by the gentle morning light.

You slowly moved your hand away, he frowned but with time you mastered the art of leaving the bed without awakening him. He huffed, face buried into the pillows as he rolled onto his stomach covering the warm spot you left. Your hand gently onto his soft hair caressing them away from his face. The time seemed to be something unknown to you.

After adjusting the covers over his shoulder you shivered into your nakedness, your hands grasping onto your white nightdress pulling it over you to cover your frame before adding up a burgundy cardigan belonging to Andrea to protect you against the goosebumps your body suffered for leaving the warm comfort of his presence.

You stepped into the kitchen quietly, breathing in the soft smell of a new day. Your hands went immediately to unveil the dough that was covered by a cloth and you left to raise during the night, it was now ready to be baked and you’ll have your warm bread for the day. Andrea spent the day before picking up the mature fruits from your trees, so it was easy to wash them and cut them while you put on the pot for your morning tea.

You hummed softly a song that Andrea was rehearsing with his violin for few days, now helplessly stuck with you, your hands unveiling the pie you prepared the day before cutting some slices.

Before anything else you moved away going to your garden standing barefoot onto the cold stone of the steps, you hugged yourself enjoying the view before slipping on some comfortable shoes and settling the table. The summer day was amazing and the morning breeze made the heat unnoticeable. A white table cloth with fresh flowers and then your started going back and forth from the kitchen to the garden bringing dishes and plates

You blinked surprised as little Anthony, the 14 years old son of the local baker, passed by with his bike waving at you. He blushed as you just looked so calm and relaxed.

“Got the mail and the newspaper Mrs Marowski” he said as he hopped off his bike to hand it to you. You picked one of the peaches you got into a basket nearby handing it to him I return “Thank you Anthony, have a good day”

He smiled and nodded vehemently as he rushed off back to his duties.

You looked down onto the mails: an invite to a concert in London, something from your parents, something in polish coming from Andrea’s family and a voluminous yellow envelope that was coming from Andrea's favourite music shop in London and by the weight you could tell it was some new music sheets. Also a note from your seamstress telling you that the new winter coats need the last fittings.

You were about to check the first page of the newspaper as a loud meowing made you jump.

Andrea was standing in front of you, soft khaki pants with a loose white shirt, your cat draped onto him, a beautiful grey British short hair who was staring at you.

“Did Laszlo woke you up?”

“Did you doubt it?” Andrea asked with a chuckle as he leaned closer to you, a kiss resting onto your lips as the cat jumped off his arm.

“I hate to wake up on an empty bed, even if your table setting is the best” he assured as he smiled at you tangling you into another kiss.

“Mh, the tea” you just reminded yourself as he chuckled 

“One more, one more” he begged between chuckles stealing another kiss before letting you go inside and he proceeded to give the annoying boss of your cat the food he deserved and demanded.

He sat on the chair enjoying the soft breeze as you brought a small tray with the tea to complete the set up.

He hummed softly opening the package coming from London gleefully as he admired his new music sheets.

“Your presence is required to see a new concert, I think they want to show off to have you as solo violin” you said showing him the invitation while sitting with him. He admired you, he stared at you with a soft smile “I will have to hear my agent first” he said as he meant you. You always had a good gut feelings and often kept him from taking random impulsive decisions.

“There’s something from your family too” you added and he smirked 

“You read it first” he said as he was helping you with polish and you sighed softly using one of your butter knives to open the letter. His hand quickly went to your cookies taking one happy bite as he still stared at the music on paper.

His eyes darting up only to look at you focused onto the paper scribbled by his parents and you nodded explaining to him a letter that was mostly about every day updates

“This word” you signalled as he leaned in lightly in to read it as there was only one point you didn’t seem to grasp not even by the words before or after it.

He chuckled loudly almost chocking onto the crumbles covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?”

You asked as he blushed deeply.

“Oh no, they hated my knit work? Is it that?”

He shook his head as you frowned at him waving that letter expecting an answer before your mind went onto the worried train of thoughts.

“It means” he licked his lips, eyes shining “It means pregnancy, not literally it is a more discreet way to say it, more like expecting something, but they mean that, my mum wants to know when she can call herself grandmother”

You blushed deeply as you looked down, you are such a young couple and you’re actually enjoying this phase, now it is not like every little delay of your period didn’t make your heart do the backflips, but to be asked so directly felt weird.

“Don’t worry about it, she means it in a good way, they adore you and they keep saying how you brought some sense into me”

He smiled taking your hand gently kissing the back of it.

“We have Laszlo for now it is more than enough” he joked to light you up and you giggled “Indeed” you said as you looked around finding the cat running after some butterflies. Andrea always complained that Laszlo hated him, Laszlo was your cat even before the polish man came into your life, but truth to be told they were best buddies: the cat would always check where he was and Andrea was the first to always feed him.

“I was thinking we could go to town today, I promised Ursula to play for her tea party with some friends coming all the way from Edinburgh and maybe we can go past the bookshop and buy some flour and whatever else. I could plant some pumpkin seeds, I love your velvety pumpkin cream for autumn”

You smiled as he really can’t wait for the colder season even if that meant to see you more dressed and clothed he also loved to nuzzle with you in front of the fire.

“Agreed” you said and he smiled proudly as you handed him the letter from your family and he sighed softly but proceeded to read it like you did with his.

He was way better at English, but mostly spoken English, he still hated to read and you picked books for him too even if he always puppy eyed you into reading for him.

He read quietly the letter as you ate some pie. He frowned lightly as he spelled out loud some words, sometimes he did it to learn the difference from a word that he knows and how it was written.

When you both drank your tea and he finally indulged into the local news he hushed you to get dressed “You take the longest to get ready, I’ll clean up” he said winking at you making you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

So you did, you went to wash yourself and braided your hair into an updo hairstyle, a light white dressy shirt and a long pleaded skirt for you as you also prepared the clothes for him.

As you redid your bed and he walked inside after clearing up the kitchen you couldn’t help but adore him into his little routines, the way he shaved and got prepared, the way he wore the clothes you figured out for him with happy delight. He loved how you looked after him, he felt loved, the small attentions like that one put him at rest, he relaxed and he felt babied and he loved it.

He picked the case of his violin handing it to you using it to pull you closer and steal another kiss. You chuckled as he leaned in to kiss you again, and again, and once more.

“Andrea” you whispered as he chuckled softly kissing you once again, he smelled so good, his skin soft and perfumed thanks to his aftershave oil.

How could you resist him?

“Two minutes” you whispered leaning back down the violin over your vanity to be able to wrap your arms around his neck letting out a soft yelp as he fell over you on the bed.

Useless to say that it wasn’t two minutes and not even twenty, your trembling legs around him and the way you guided him to give you just what you wanted from him always drove him crazy.

After a short nap you really had to begin to get going, he helped you to dress up slowly zipping up your skirt and you had a new rush of pleasure just by buttoning up his shirt covering his chest peppered with hickeys.

You locked the house and he pulled out his black bike putting the violin box in the basket on the front along with your white one “I prefer when we go with one” he complained but you chuckled “yes, but if we buy few things we will have to go by walking” you made him notice and he sighed nodding.

He waited for you as you pedalled your way to the town centre, he was swaying in front of you and you raced a bit against each other until the stone bridge that welcomed you there.

“See you at Ursula’s” you said and he nodded leaning in to kiss you one more time, he indulged into that kiss a littlest as he opened his eyes slowly, a smile playing over his lips.

“My wife” he said, sometimes he repeated it like he had to remind himself. You chuckled as you kissed his cheek and you go parted.

You knew Ursula liked to pared Andrea off, you let her do it, she came with time to like you, she saw how much good you did to Andrea, how much balance you gave to him, his behaviour was stable, he settled down.

You stopped to the local grocery store taking up some spices, some cinnamon in particular as you knew how much Andrea loved it on sweets, few little cooking and baking items you missed and then off to the bookstore.

“Hello hello” you said as the old man there greeted you “The books you ordered arrived” he said as he moved his shaky legs into the back of the shop bringing you the easy books in polish you ordered to practice some reading. You smiled looking at them as Andrea gave you the titles of books that made his youth and also few new ones for him. You added to that stock a new cooking book and few novels for Andrea and his English. The old man was the sweetest, he kept the booster open no matter the weather and politics and he always made sure to find anything you might be looking for.

He helped you tie all your buyings together onto the bike so after paying you just pushed it walking through the town, just enjoying a good time around giving yourself time until you made it to Ursula’s home.

Well, you called Ursula’s but Janet as always there even if her presence was always quieter you teamed up with her most of the time letting Ursula enjoy her time with Andrea.

You smiled stopping in your track as you heard the soft sound of the violin, you closed your eyes breathing in, like you could enjoy the music through the air.

You adjusted your dress and smiling to yourself, the moment sinking in slowly.

Your husband, your life, the idea of coming back home together, cuddle on the couch, listen to his words, having his honey eyes on you.

A natural smiled appeared on your lips.

After few moments you decided to keep going, you pulled your bike  letting it rest against the fence, Janet appearing at the doorstep to welcome you in.

Your perfect day.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog

#andrea marowski #andrea marowski fanfiction #andrea marowski x reader #andrea marowski x you #andrea marowski headcanons #cottegecore Andrea Marowski #daniel bruhl #daniel bruehl

[yuzukult]

yours. || jww & reader

title: yours. pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader genre: angst word count: 1.2k warnings: reader doesn’t end up with wonwoo. *cries* a/n: i’ve never written for seventeen before but here we go peeps (also i didn’t proofread it don’t come @ my neck yo) for the scenario event for ficscafe!! using the prompts below:  6. when they slow dance in the living room. 22. when they smile in kisses.

This cup of coffee doesn’t taste the same.

The dark liquid is bitter and cold—the ice cubes that float atop of the mug clack against the ceramic with each stir from the wooden stick in your hand, attempting to sweeten it with the bags of sugar you pour in.

Even with five packets it doesn’t taste as sweet as it was when you had it with him.

What’s missing is his smile from across the table, mimicking the way his eyes curve into crescents like the moon in the night sky, surrounded by sparkling stars that never outshine him. The sight of him leaning against the granite top, his own designated mug in hand, with his dress shirt tucked in his trousers for work while mocking the amount of creamer you have to pour into your cup to get rid of the bitterness is what you long for.

But the apartment remains gloomy and quiet. 

Jeon Wonwoo isn’t around anymore.

Yearning for someone you can’t have, especially after you’ve gotten a taste of what it feels like to be loved by them is like going through withdrawals. There’s a plethora of moments that replay through your head—from the first meeting, to the first date, first kiss, and the first night he stays over. He’s like a dream, each time you reminisce, and it’s gotten to the point that you can’t tell if what happened between the two of you was reality.

Wonwoo was a friend of a friend; typically, you’re never interested in these outings, but something about that one time had you intrigued and willing to go. He was hard to ignore, with his ashy blonde hair, oversized camel coat, and an expression that seemed bored, but as he watched his friends banter and holler, a smile tugged at the edges of his mouth and warms his heart as it does yours.

When you’re assigned teams for a stupid drinking game, he greets you, introduces himself and the moment he says, “I’m Wonwoo,” with that deep, buttery voice, you were caught. He doesn’t have to do much to have you swooning over him, heart swelling in your chest, bursting you at the seams. 

Jeon Wonwoo makes it hard not to fall for him.

Asking for your number has his hands shaking, and he vaguely mentions how he has tremors in them. Tapping his digits into your phone was the start of it all—the start of a fall that would lead to a heartbreak that would be difficult to recover from.

He’s so pretty under the somber autumn skies; leaves falling in a surfeit of oranges, yellows, and red hues, practically matching his neutral muted toned attire all year round. Fall is the season that fits Wonwoo the best, and it’s not just because it’s the beginning of falling for him.

“You look lovely tonight,” he complimented, hands dug deep into the front pockets of his trench coat, brown like the swirls of chocolate he calls eyes. His round, thin metal frames sit on his nose, and you think back to when you saw your expression through the reflection for the first time—pure happiness smeared across your face. “Should we get going?”

He’d take you for dinner, carbonara pasta, and to his favorite dessert place that serves the best iced coffee with a strawberry jam pastry, so he claims. It’s sweet like him, melting on the tip of your tongue just like you did when you first heard him speak, and truthfully, you’d grow nervous in that very moment. It’s perfect—this thing you have with Wonwoo. It’s blissful, quiet, and brings warmth on a cold day, but it feels passing. 

It’s temporary. 

The way his lips taste are like cherry lollipops you’d get at the doctor’s office for being a good kid. His arms around your waist when he pulls you in resembles the snug feeling of a blanket around your frame. Nose brushing against yours, you could feel the quickening of his heart rate, fingers at your hips tapping against the exposed skin under your shirt in anxiousness, yet at the same time, all of this feels right. Wonwoo feels right. 

When your lips finally press together, the hairs on your arms straighten. Chills go up your spine, and your stomach does cartwheels. Fireworks don’t go off like they do in stories, but whatever this is you’re feeling is way better than that. He feels like home, truly a home, one you find in a person and not in a location. And what takes it away is when you feel his lips pull up at the edges, a soft chuckle mischievously escaping from his firm chest before he picks you up and twirls you around. 

Wonwoo is reserved. He often doesn’t share much, but when he’s with you, it’s different. He has grown to love asking questions to your stories, hum along with you in the car to your favorite songs, and do things he wouldn’t normally do because you like doing them and he enjoys doing them with you. 

Your favorite has to be that dreamy dance. 

Fingers locking behind his neck with his own finding home on your hips, you can’t help but always lay your head on his shoulder with your bodies pressed together. You have no sense of direction, he usually teases you about it, so in the middle of your living room while wearing matching fuzzy cat socks, you plant your own feet on top of his and let him guide. He’s not romantic, yet somehow with you, he does his best at it.

He’s a beautiful love, one without effort, one without having to feel like a burden. His place in your bed sheets remained, even until this day, because Wonwoo’s love leaves an imprint. His impact stays strong, leaving behind the ache in your chest that you feel each time something reminds you of him. 

That letter in the mail changed the course of your relationship. 

He’d been offered to take on his dream. And who are you to tell him no? 

He has to go. He must. There’s no argument about it, but Wonwoo insists there has to be one. He doesn’t understand the baggage that comes with a long distance relationship, especially one that’s thousands of miles away with a huge time zone difference. 

So you tell Wonwoo to go.

And as badly as you wished for him to turn around and say otherwise, you don’t let him.

Although it’s been two years now, your feelings stay the same. Despite the many guys you’ve encountered, all the dates you’ve been on, it doesn’t change. There’s a gap in your heart, a Wonwoo-shaped hole that no one seems to be able to claim, and sometimes you feel discouraged. 

His face is on almost every magazine—how someone so young and successful also be handsome amazes everyone. He turns heads whenever he walks by, his name is in everyone’s mouths, and he’s nothing short of the description of perfection in the eyes of anyone you’ve met. 

It’s cold again. For the second time. The leaves descend slowly from the trees, branches frail and naked, but the ground is decorated with those ironically warm pigments during such a chilly season. The wind is brisk, smacking against your cheeks, tinting them to a soft pink. It kind of feels like a slap to reality. Wonwoo still isn’t back. He’s still there, far away, making his dreams come true.

You’re just another one of those people in the queue, now.

Waiting for your turn.

Maybe to be his again.

For him to be yours.

#ficscafe scenario event #wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #idk what the fuck people tag but here we go #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo #gyukultfics #bye

[kokiseiko]

Fleeting Touches and Unbreakable Bonds

Shouta Aizawa x Reader; Hizashi Yamada x Reader

Song Recommendation: All I Ask - Adele

(Y/N) – Your Name

(L/N) – Last Name

Word Count: 1.8k +

Fandom: My Hero Academia | Boku no Hero Academia

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Pro-Hero!Reader; Hizashi Yamada x Pro-Hero!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Angst, Bittersweet

Summary: Is it possible to love someone so much that you can’t let go even after death?

Note: This is a special request made by my lovely fellow Aizawa simp: @nire-chann​.

Thank you for beta-reading this for me Ate Selene @yourgoddessselene​ | @saudade-mayari​

The events that had happened at the start of this fic are a few months after Aizawa became a teacher at UA.

A rush of sudden adrenaline that wracks your body, heart pounding, ears ringing, your entire system shaking with emotions you can’t even pinpoint. Walking towards the white-lined road of the city, the rays of the noon sun spilling all over the bent light posts, the once smooth grey cement on the sidewalks now cracked, malfunctioning traffic lights blinking and crackling, the aftermath: debris of the earlier commotion.

It was an explosion, a burst of dust-filled smoke that pained the eyes of individuals who unfortunately had it opened, then a sickening crash of building facades, window splinters raining throughout the area, injuring civilians from which you’ve catered immediately. Quickly healing wounds and giving directions for immediate evacuation.

You were Frantic. Desperate. Searching throughout the wreckage even when your quirk wasn’t for such. Continuing to move through the rubbles of building you spot the shine of the once yellow gear now cracked, broken into three, not far from it was a mass of black, crimson spilling underneath him, a shine of a bloodied band adorning his right hand.

You knew that it was near impossible even with your quirk to stabilize him, yet you continue, hands glowing in hues of emerald as you move his blood-soaked charcoal locks.

---

He feels lighter every passing second, but your presence grounds him. There’s so much more to say, to feel, to do. He sighs internally, he looks at you with such intent, he wants to let you know, to speak to you, but how can he, when his throat feels restricted. Even lifting his hand to touch your tear-stained cheeks to help ease the furrow in your brows had him use too much energy.

There was so much more, but having to look at you with all the emotions he could muster in his two light-grey orbs are what he could only communicate with. He can’t speak anymore, but he wants to at least taste your lips one last time.

To at least feel your heat and the cool contrast of your wet cheeks.

He’s barely noticing the tingle of nerves, that strange warm sensation he used to feel whenever you used to tend to his wounds, his injuries. His eyes wrinkle slightly when he remembers your pout during a rant a few days ago, your plump lips moving and going on about him being reckless.

He’s doing it again, but it has been too long since he had let himself fall through a never-ending well of questions, of replays, flashbacks, images, doubts, concerns. This may be the last time he’ll ever let himself tumble throughout the dark abyss of just him and his thoughts.

Was he content? He doesn’t know.

He just simply wants to remember your smile, your tears. You.

You were his anchor back then. Back when he was crumbling into a mess of a wanna-be hero who had his friend die during Hero-Work Studies.

You pulled him up when he was too tired to even recognize and register the warmth feeling in his chest that was being overpowered with guilt, regret, and frustration.

He never really accommodated these positive feelings, thinking that they would just be swept away with a whoosh of wind, only to return with a hard blow of hatred, anger, and pain.

He doesn’t want to experience that again, to go through that momentary shock and be hit with the sad consciousness of reality.

His throaty whisper was heard above the ringing in your ears: “Thank you…” for loving me, he wants to add, for being with me… I’ve loved you, tears cascading his cheeks

“I’m sorry…” for not acknowledging these wonderful feelings, for taking so long to let you know that, looking to your also wet cheeks, eyes pooling with tears from frustration? Sadness? Pain? Maybe a mix of three he guessed, “… I love you.”

He feels the gradual easing of his muscles all throughout his body. The blood rushing throughout his veins were subliminally slowing. The wet pelts of your tears dropping down his features would be a mere afterthought if he wasn’t focusing so much on you, but alas, his own mind was keeping him from doing so.

Even within his last seconds, his mind kept him prisoner.

His mind where everything was being played. His head spinning with the rapid successions of memories he subconsciously held dear. The majority of the replays containing you, your comforting touch when he needed an anchor, your soft kisses during those casual dates back in his favorite café, the hitch of your breath when you momentarily stopped the cute cooing noises you made whenever you petted the cats as you trailed your eyes on his kneeling form, your whispered ‘yes’ when he finally popped the question “Marry me?”, your wobbly smile when you walked down the red-carpeted aisle, the crack of your voice as your eyes that were holding nothing but love and adoration staring right at him as you began to state your vows began to pool.

Smiling.

He never thought that in his last moments he would be smiling. You’ve made him do things he thought he’d never do in this short life of his. And for that, he’s thankful.

You are truly something else.

***

Breathing was hard. His every inhale didn’t even feel like air, it’s akin to something much more condense. Black was all that surrounds him: a pool of nothing but midnight skies. A weird sensation constantly falling down to a never-ending night is what grounds him to- what exactly.

Though his throat was constricted, a single sound not able to flutter out his lips, his thoughts seemed loud on this vast plain of nothingness.

Where was he?

How can he even breathe?

“You’re still bound.”

What?

“You need to let go.”

Looking around him to at least locate the voice’s body was futile. Was this in his head?

“No. You’re in the middle. Stuck.”

Middle?

“Your time’s done, but you’re still tied down… by your bonds. Let go.”

Realizing what this meant he answered the disembodied voice in his head, I can’t.

A chilling gust of an unknown wind made its way throughout his existence.

***

It can’t be. He knows it can’t happen. He died. How can he still be standing- oh.

He doesn’t know whatever the wind did to him, but he at least deduced that it returned him to you.

You who was now kneeling in the mix of wet gravel and grass whilst staring into the distance with streams still flowing down your puffed eyes, cheeks streaked with layers of endless tears that managed to drip down your wobbling chin, your neck covered in his scarf that had splats of dried hazel-vermillion.

How long was he falling back there?

Two new sounds of weeping.

He sees that the usual gravity-defying golden hair was now instead streaking down the shoulders of a black leather jacket-clad voice hero. Mic. A figure kneeling down beside your form, hugging your side, whose body shook with great intensity together with yours. Midnight.

He aches. Thorns felt like they were encasing him within.

For a moment he wants to hold you, to comfort you, placing his hand to your other shoulder, placing the loose strand of hair behind your ear, but you don’t seem to sense him.

***

It’s been a long month of just watching, of just seeing but not being able to do anything. He hates the unfairness of it all.

He tries. Convincing himself that his touches were felt, that his hugs were warming your numbness, that his kisses were making the sting dwindle little by little, that him laying by the other side of your bed while you sleep with a pillow covered in his old shirt lets you know that he’s still there, that he still loves you, that he still can’t won’t let go.

His touches on your shoulder, which were supposed to reassure you just in turn made you shiver and look confused, bewildered even.

He wants to be heard, to be felt, to exist, but his traces no longer lingered, only a mere susurrate, a short-lived touch in your still graying ambience.

He wants to hold you while you cry and let all of the frustrations out of that head of yours, where he knows that like him you’re stuck, in your own scribbles of granite thoughts, that you too were deprived of the other’s warmth, that you too felt like a shell stuck with all of this sand you called your chaos, your blurring mix of feelings.

And as weeks turns into fleeting months. Months of winter blooming into a spring of years, left on autumn, in auto-pilot, watching, always nearby to see you recover. Recover from the debris and aching splinters that his existence left behind, while he still remains crumbling, pieces of him falling.

“Thank you Hizashi… you grounded me when it all felt like a dream.”

He should’ve been the one doing what Hizashi is now. It should’ve been black instead of gold that you were nuzzling into. It should’ve been his deep baritone rather than the smooth and gentle voice Hizashi uses whenever he encourages, supports, and anchors you.

He should’ve been the one holding your hand whenever you sit in a creaky wooden bench in a nearby park to admire the sunset.

“I know that it’s impossible to reciprocate what I’m about to say, but I at least wanted to let you know-”

“I like you too, Zashi’.”

He should’ve been the one you’re tending, taking care of. Your tears of frustration and aura of concern that was once reserved for him was now for another blond.

“Zashi’ you should start being much more careful you know?”

“I promise I will- ow!”, your smiles at his friend’s idiotic antics just adds jealousy to his mix of resentment and longing.

He should’ve been the only one who sees your gaze of fondness swirling in your beautiful solemn orbs.

But he can’t. He can’t anymore.

And to that he goes back to that midnight swirl, that feeling of falling, to that voice inside his head that was constantly questioning him, encouraging him to release the rope that was still bruising his slowly crumbling heart that he’s put at the back of his mind, not yet wanting to face the reality of the other side, a world without your soft hands holding his cheeks, an existence without your love.

“Surrender Shouta…”

It all felt like déjà vu. Your pretty face blurred with the sheer veil. Soft smiles and salty droplets of tears. The gold-lined red carpet. The people present. It was all like back then, but instead of that classic black tuxedo and a black bow tie, it was a white suit and a navy blue tie.

You’re smiling… at him. Looking directly at him.

It was a whisper, a message just for him; words that helped him to finally let go, to accept, and to be patient.

“Shouta… I hope that you still remember that you will forever be a part of me. Until the next life Shouta Aizawa. Wait for me, we’ll start again; continue what we can’t finish.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you all liked this piece. My requests are (finally) open.

#Shouta Aizawa #Aizawa #Shouta Aizawa Fanfic #Aizawa Fanfics #BNHA Fanfic #Shouta Aizawa x You #Shouta Aizawa x Reader #Hizashi Yamada #Yamada #Hizashi Yamada Fanfic #Yamada Fanfics #Hizashi Yamada x You #Hizashi Yamada x Reader #Eraserhead #Present Mic #Eraserhead x Reader #Present Mic x Reader

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Neighbors

Summary: After breaking up with your fiancé you find yourself moving back in with your brother and his daughter just outside of the city. Marcus Moreno is his neighbor and he really does take his neighborly duties to heart. Including taking care of mowing the lawn when your brother had to leave for work for a while. 

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: yearning, sexual tension, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, way too many mentions sweat and a lawnmower

A/N: This one goes out to @mouthymandalorian​. I still have no idea how this happened but I am not complaining 😂

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog (you can add or remove yourself by clicking on the link or just ask me and I’ll add you)

The first time you met Marcus Moreno was on the day you moved into your brother's place.

It was autumn when you found yourself in front of your brother’s house. Your fiance and you had decided to end things, which left you temporarily moving into your brother’s place. At least back then you thought it would be temporary. He had bought a house outside the city a couple of years ago and was living with his daughter. He had been divorced a couple of years ago and immediately said yes when you asked him for help.

It was a beautiful and quiet neighborhood.

“And you won’t be safer anywhere but here. The leader of the heroics lives just across the street.” And as if he could hear your brother say those words he was walking over to the moving truck, offering his help. Marcus Moreno. Of course you knew who he was. The whole country probably knew. He had introduced himself, taking one of the boxes you were carrying from you, and followed your brother inside the house. He stayed for dinner that evening, your niece Tara and his daughter Missy having to work on a school project. You learned a couple of things about him that evening. Marcus and your brother were buddies and the only single men in the whole neighborhood.

“Dad is completely oblivious to all the women ogling him every time.” Missy rolled her eyes, making you chuckle and Marcus frowned.

“Nobody’s ogling me, Missy.” She just shook her head and you smiled at her as she left the room to pack her things.

“They are totally checking you out, Marcus.” Your brother teased. “Just like my sister here.” Marcus turned his head to look at you and you turned away to slap your brothers arm.

“Very funny, asshole,” you shook your head with a laugh, almost fleeing out of the kitchen.

The first weeks flew by and sooner than you thought Thanksgiving approached. You were planning on having the best Thanksgiving dinner ever, going a little bit over the top with the groceries.

“You need some help with that?” A voice behind you startled you, making you almost drop the bag full of food. Before it hit the ground someone caught it and you felt yourself blush as you looked into the warm eyes of Marcus Moreno.

“Sorry,” he smiled a little. “Didn’t want to startle you.”

You noticed him more often from that day on. Missy, his daughter, and your niece Tara were close friends.

Marcus was always nice. Always. He offered help where he could. You noticed yourself staring at him more and more and he always smiled back when he noticed you. Nothing could however prepare you for when spring came around.

You were up early going for a run. Your way of dealing with break-ups was eating your feelings and you really needed to get back in shape. With your headphones on you only noticed the unmistakable noise of the lawnmower when you were close to home. Changing to the other side of the street you caught a glimpse of Marcus outside of his house, mowing the lawn. It was still pretty early and a little chilly, yet there he was, dressed in some old jeans and a dark grey shirt, headphones in his ears, oblivious to the outside world. You slowed down, pulling out your headphones as you tried to get a better glimpse, knowing for sure that the way his arms flexed would be a picture you would be thinking about for a while. You were so focused on Marcus you almost ran into a tree, cursing to yourself. When you turned you caught his eyes and he winked, waving at you in greeting. You smiled awkwardly, waving back before you crossed the street to get back into your house, cursing to yourself until you were in the bathroom where you definitely weren’t thinking of how strong his arms would feel around your body.

The more time passed, the more you were sure Marcus Moreno was everything but oblivious to the way people looked at him. Or at least to the way you looked at him. He never made a move, but he made sure to greet you whenever he saw you, offering his help when you had something to carry. And you caught him staring at you across the dinner table more than once when he was over for dinner which seemed to happen more often now that you were cooking. He told you that he was a terrible cook and that your brother wasn’t much better and that this had been the first time since his wife died, that he and Missy were having home-cooked meals regularly.

You remembered the warm feeling that spread in your chest as he opened up to you. That had been the first time you hugged him. And he didn’t let go until you both heard someone breaking something in the living room.

In summer your brother had to leave for this job for a couple of weeks, leaving you and Tara alone. You didn’t mind. You loved her like your own child. And she was growing up so fast.

“Mr. Moreno is coming over tomorrow to take care of the garden,” Tara informed you at dinner on a Friday night.

“Oh?” You asked.

“He said you shouldn’t have to do it on your own just because Dad is gone.” She shrugged, focusing back on the TV.

“That’s nice of him.” You nodded, eating your dinner.

The aspect of Marcus Moreno spending the whole Saturday in the same place as you made it hard for you to sleep. Which was stupid cause the man was living across the street and you saw him almost every day. You were terrified of saying something dumb in front of him, mostly because you were crushing on him, hard. But he had to know that at this point.

More than once you heard Missy complain about the moms at her school when Marcus picked her up.

“The way they look at him? Ugh gross. I’m happy your Aunt is not a lovesick puppy like those moms at school.” She said one day and you chuckled.

“Because I’m a cool aunt.”

“For the most part.” Tara teased and you looked shocked at her before all three of you burst into giggles.

It was supposed to be a hot summer day. You dropped Missy and Tara off at the local outdoor pool before you made your way back home. You stopped on the way to get some groceries, intending to make some fresh lemonade today. You completely forgot about the time, cursing to yourself when you saw Marcus walking over the street as soon as you parked the car.

“Shit. Sorry. I completely forgot the time,” you said as you jumped out of the car.

“No worries. It’s not like I have a long way over here,” Marcus winked. You smiled a little, turning away from him to control your face as you made your way towards the front door.

“You sure you wanna do the lawn today? It’s supposed to be the hottest day of the week.” You asked, putting the bag full of fruits down on the kitchen counter.

“I’m sure. Nothing I can’t handle,” he smiled. You looked at each other, uncertain how to continue and you could swear you saw his eyes wander to your lips before he nodded.

“Okay. I’m gonna start before the sun is gonna melt me.” He took his glasses off to change them to the sunglasses he had brought before he turned around and walked out and into the garage. You definitely weren’t checking out his ass in his jeans until he was out the door.

Ignoring him outside at first you got into making the lemonade and some ice tea. You smiled as you saw the picture Tara and Missy send you, asking if it would be okay if they went for a sleepover at one of their friends' places. The perfect opportunity to go outside and ask Marcus. Maybe it was time to turn up the flirting.

Changing out of your Jeans shorts and Shirt you put on a light summer dress. It wasn’t short, going just over your knees but the neckline and backline were probably a little more revealing than you should be wearing outside of your home. But the front yard still technically was your home. After you changed you stopped at your window and felt yourself growing even hotter. Marcus was just below your window, his white shirt drenched with sweat, clinging to his chest, his hair wet and curling in his neck. You saw his strong tanned arms glistening with sweat as he pushed the mower and you felt your knees getting weak.

“Fuck me…” You whispered to yourself before you made your way downstairs. With a mission.

He didn’t notice you coming out of the house. Carrying two big glasses, one with lemonade, one with ice tea you made your way over to him, smiling to yourself as you caught him humming along to the song he was listening to. You tried to notice the song and were pretty sure it was “Take on me” by A-ha. He looked up when you were close, giving you a small smile as he turned off the mower and pulled out his headphones.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hey. I thought you might need something to drink?” you raised your eyebrows in question. He nodded, pulling the hem of his shirt up to wipe off the sweat from his forehead, giving you a glimpse of his stomach. You swallowed but didn’t look away.

“Lemonade or Ice Tea?” you asked instead, looking into his face as he straightened down his shirt.

“Ice Tea,” he answered and you handed him the glass. His fingers brushed over yours and your smile got a little wider.

“You do know that mowing the lawn in the heat of the sun will kill the lawn at some point?” You asked. He gulped down his Ice Tea, watching you intently. You didn’t hide the way you were ogling him, feeling the sweat slowly drip down between your breasts the longer you stood here in the sun. It really was a hot day.

“I’m almost finished and this isn’t my yard” He handed you the glass back with a smirk and you shook your head. “Thank you.” He smiled, you nodded and turned around to leave.

“Oh before I forget,” you turned around again, catching him staring at your back, his eyes finding yours only slowly. “Tara texted to ask if it would be okay if Missy and her slept at Nicole’s place? Her mom said it was okay, but I’m gonna check in with her.”

“Sounds okay for me. I’m gonna check in with her Mom too when I’m finished here.” He said hoarsely and you nodded.

“You wanna maybe stay for dinner? As a thank you for your hard work,” you added. He smirked. “I won’t say not to that.” He winked before he slowly pulled his shirt off. You were sure your eyes popped out of your head before you turned around and walked into the house, hearing him chuckle behind you.

You were on the phone with Nicole’s mom, leaning on the kitchen island, your head propped up on your hand when you heard the door close behind you. You looked over your shoulder, seeing Marcus enter and smile at you before you turned away again.

“I’m okay with it. Marcus just got in. If he’s okay, it would be great if you pick up their overnight bags when you pick them up from the outdoor pool.” You said.

“Great. Nicole has been dying to camp in the garden for one night, but she’s scared alone. Having Tara and Missy with her would be great.” You listened to her, but almost jumped when you felt Marcus’ hand on your lower back. His hand was warm and you closed your eyes as he leaned closer. You turned on the spot, the phone still in your hand, and looked up at him. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and was still shirtless. You were faintly aware of Nicole’s mom talking on the phone, but didn’t hear a word she was saying.

Marcus leaned with one hand on the kitchen island, his other hand coming up to take the phone out of your hand. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he talked to Nicole’s mom and you felt yourself shiver. He wasn’t touching you, yet it felt like your body was on fire with the way he was looking at you. He ended the call, putting the phone down.

“Nicole’s mom will be picking up the girls in two hours. We gotta pack some stuff for the girls until then.” He whispered, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek.

“Why do I think that you are everything but oblivious to the way women look at you?” You asked him. He smiled a little. He was dirty and sweaty and you couldn’t care less with the way he was looking at you.

“I don’t care how women look at me. I do notice how you look at me though.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, slowly running down to your lip.

“And how do I look at you?” You asked.

“Like you wouldn’t say no if I kiss you right now.”

“Even as sweaty and gross as you are right now?” You teased. He chuckled.

“I can go and take a shower first…” You didn’t give him time to finish as you got on your tiptoes to kiss him softly. Surprised he dropped his hand from your face, parting from you for a second before he pulled you close to properly kiss you. It felt better than you would have ever imagined it and you sighed against his lips, your hands wanting nothing more than to run through his soft hair when you giggled, find it damp with sweat.

“Okay, this is kinda gross.” You still giggled and Marcus laughed. “But also kinda sexy,” you teased, looking at him. He smiled a little shy at you.

“I’m gonna take a shower and pack some stuff for Missy and then…”

“‘Then I’m coming over to cook dinner at your place,” you finished his sentence.

“My place?” he asked.

“I really don’t want to have sex in my brother’s house,” you grinned and he laughed.

“You sure?”

You nodded.

“Good. Cause I really don’t want to have sex at your brother’s house either,” he leaned down kissing you again.

#my writing #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #Pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction

[helnjk]

All I’ve Ever Known - G.W.

George Weasley x fem!reader

last of my oneshots for my showtunes fic list, based on the song All I’ve Ever Known from the musical Hadestown! i’ve had so much fun with this series of fics, i hope you guys have enjoyed reading them xx 

Word Count: 2.8k 

Summary: george finds her extremely intriguing, the way she spends her days drawing and creating art. maybe one day he’ll pluck up the courage to talk to her. 

Warnings: mentions of food, mentions of bullying/exclusivity, stereotypical slytherin biases

lyrics are bold and italicized 

–

I was alone so long 

I didn’t even know that I was lonely

Y/N sat by herself at the end of the Slytherin table, pushing what was left of her meal around her plate. She could hear the different conversations flowing around her, the ones including her fellow housemates moreso, but as usual she wasn’t involved in any of them.

She could hear Malfoy sneering to his little crew about something or other that Potter did to irritate him that day. She could hear Adrian Pucey discussing the latest Quidditch plays they had used at training that day. She could hear a couple of first years anxiously discussing the topic of their exams the next day. 

All around her were signs of companionship and community, yet she was left utterly alone. She wasn’t stupid. She knew why she had been outcasted from her house the moment she got sorted. 

“Isn’t she muggleborn?” 

“What a disgrace to Slytherin.”

“The Sorting Hat’s made a mistake with that one.” 

Over the years, she had gotten used to how those in her house treated her–holding her at arm’s length. She had spent many nights in her first year crying herself to sleep because of how all-consuming the loneliness had been, but now at her seventh year, she was numb to it all. 

She knew who she was: A talented muggleborn witch and a proud Slytherin. She didn’t need validation from anyone else. And anyways, most of her time was spent out on the grounds with her sketchpad or in the Room of Requirement painting. 

Loud laughs from the Gryffindor table spurred her out of her thoughts. The Weasley twins had pranked their younger brother, and it seemed like their younger sister was an accomplice to the crime as well. The rest of the red and gold house was watching on amusedly, no doubt accustomed to similar situations. 

The Weasleys were a well known family at Hogwarts. How could they not be? With their fiery red hair and their big personalities, it was a given that they caught the attention of almost every student. 

Y/N admired how they just fit right in with their house, their second family. Of course, a lot of it had to do with the fact that they were so comfortable with the Hat’s placement. Their whole family was sorted into Gryffindor, she could remember, albeit slightly foggily, the older Weasley siblings in leadership roles when she was younger. 

Her eyes lingered on George’s laughing figure for a second longer than the rest of them. She was always intrigued by the younger twin. They seldom had classes together, but from what she could gather, he was just as observant and perceptive as he was mischievous and quick witted.  

As bodies began to take their leave from the Great Hall, a rough shove to the shoulder nearly made Y/N fall onto the floor. Her eyes snapped up to the offender and she saw the unbecoming sneer of Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were snickering not so quietly behind him as he stared down at her. 

“Whoops,” he jeered, “Sorry to disrupt your staring at the blood traitors and gryffindorks. Maybe you’d be better off with the lot of them.” 

With a huff, Y/N gathered her things and strode out of the hall without so much as a second look behind her.  

It's like I’d known you all along

I knew you before we met

And I don’t even know you yet

All I know is you're someone I have always known

She was drawing again, George noted.

It always baffled him how she was always alone. Usually students at Hogwarts drifted about their days in groups or pairs; it was rare to see someone spend most of their time by themselves. Growing up with 6 siblings, and having a twin, George was so used to the chaos and noise that came with it that he couldn’t picture what it was like to go about your day solo.  

His eyes drifted towards her figure sitting on a blanket out in the grounds. She was blissfully unaware of her surroundings, or more to the point, the person staring at her like a bloody idiot. The weather was slowly transitioning from autumn into winter, and he could tell that she was trying to milk the last few warm days. 

It was no secret to him that she preferred to sketch out in the sunny grounds, but Hogwarts being situated in the Scottish countryside made it so that her window of opportunity to do so was limited.

He was so focused on how her brows furrowed in concentration and how her lips pursed ever so slightly when she made a mistake, that he didn’t notice Fred’s many deep sighs. This caused his twin to take one final deep breath and exhale as loudly as possible. 

“What’s got your wand in a knot then?” George asked, taking his eyes off of Y/N and turning to face his brother. 

“Finally noticed that I exist, have you?” teased Fred. 

“Oi, just get on with whatever you want to say!” 

He merely laughed, “If you want to talk to the snake, just do it!” 

George had the audacity to act as if he didn’t know what Fred meant, “What in Merlin’s name are you on about?” 

“Don’t be daft,” Fred smacked him lightly on the back of the head, “You’ve been pining after that Slytherin bird for months, just go and talk to her already!”

“Was I that obvious?” 

With a frustrated groan, Fred shoved his twin in the direction of the girl. George stumbled for a second and checked to see if she had seen, she hadn’t. He sent a glare at the redhead over his shoulder, before dusting off his trousers and donning a confident facade. 

As he strode across the courtyard, his hands grew increasingly clammy and his heart began to beat erratically in his chest. There was no turning back now, though, as he approached the girl. 

His shadow blocked the sun from Y/N’s notebook and she looked up, not expecting anyone to get so close to her. 

“Erm, hello,” George waved awkwardly as he towered over her figure.

She blinked a few times before replying, “Hello. Can I help you with something?” 

“Mind if I join you?” 

George’s question rang through the still air for a moment as Y/N processed what he had just asked. No one had ever wanted to keep her company as she drew before, she wasn’t quite sure how to react. Just before the moment turned even more awkward than it already was, she gave him a swift nod. 

The tall, lanky redhead folded his legs beneath him as he made himself comfortable on the path of grass next to her. He had to stop himself from grinning too wide, “I’ve seen you around, you know.” 

She merely raised a confused eyebrow in his direction. 

“Not-not like I’ve been stalking you!” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling his ears turn hot, “I’ve just noticed you like to draw out here, especially when the weather’s warm.” 

“Oh,” she mumbled, brushing her hair behind her ear. 

“I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?” 

George’s gaze on hers was so sincere, she kicked herself internally for not saying the right thing to him, “No you’re not! Don’t worry. I’m just not used to people paying much attention to what I do. I mean, I’m not that interesting.” 

She felt small under his analytic gaze, but something in her kept her from looking away. 

“Well I think you’re plenty interesting from what I’ve seen,” He shrugged nonchalantly, “Tell me about your drawings!” 

He had said the magic words and the pair of them dove into a conversation. Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement, as she rarely had the opportunity to speak about something she was so passionate about. 

“These look bloody brilliant,” George murmured in awe as he flipped through the pages of her notebook.  

Y/N’s face warmed at the compliment, “Thanks.” 

All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own 

But now I wanna hold you too

For nearly every day after their first encounter, George made it a point to talk to Y/N. Whether it be along the hallways on the way to class, during meals (he would take her hand and drag her to the Gryffindor tables, much to her bemusement), or out on the grounds while she drew. 

Most of the time, he would talk and talk and talk as she listened quietly. A soft smile would always grace her lips as she observed him and how he spoke so highly of his family and how he was so excited for the shop he would be opening with his brother. The tone of his voice and his large grins always made her feel included in whatever it was that he talked about.

“Hello love,” George smiled down at her before plopping down on the soft grass to her right, “Reckon we’re on the last few days of good weather.”

His eyes raised skywards as the overcast clouds floated above them, hers did the same. 

“It’s alright,” she shrugged, sending him a small smile, “We’ve made the most of it, I think.”  

The pair sat in relative silence, as silent as it could be with one of the Weasley twins, as Y/N built up the courage to show George what she had made for him. With a deep breath, she plucked something from her school bag that lay strewn across the grass and held the parchment to her chest.

“George?” 

“Yeah, Y/N?” his eyes trained on her nervous figure and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Everything alright?” 

She nodded her head swiftly, “Yeah everything’s perfect! I just wanted to show you something that I made.” 

Slowly, she smoothed out the parchment in front of them. She observed George quietly as he took in the sketch she had made. His eyes scanned it over once, twice, three times before they met hers again. 

“Is this…” He mumbled, taking the sketch into his hands to look closer.

“You’ve just been so excited about your joke shop that I–I made a logo for you guys,” she smiled sheepishly, “It’s pretty bare bones, but I wanted you to see it. I won’t take offence if you don’t like it!” 

George stared at her, mouth slightly agape. This was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for him, and she did it out of the kindness of her heart. Without a second thought, he threw his arms around her and quickly pulled her to his chest. Y/N let out a little ‘oof’ as she collided with him, heat spreading throughout her body. She was thankful that she was basically smushed on his chest, at least then he couldn’t tell how flustered she got at his display of affection. 

“So d’you like it?” she asked shyly, looking up at him. 

“I bloody love it!” 

Y/N let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding, the pair of them grinning at each other. 

Later in the day, George all but dragged Y/N into the Gryffindor common room in search of Fred. His brother was sat on one of the couches by the fireplace, chatting idly with Lee. The sound of parchment hitting him square in the chest rang through the relatively empty room. 

Fred’s hands immediately held onto whatever George had placed on him, and his eyes lit with joy as he realized what he was looking at. 

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, “Is this what I think it is?” 

George took a seat next to his brother, his hand tugging Y/N along to take the seat beside him, “Yep. Our Y/N here has made us a logo for Wheezes.” 

“This is brilliant, Y/N! Thank you!” 

For the second time that day, she found herself wrapped up in the arms of a Weasley twin. Slightly used to it, she just laughed the show of affection off and patted Fred slightly on the back. 

“Happy to help,” she smiled. 

–

As the seasons turned from autumn to winter, Y/N found herself spending more and more time with the red headed twins. She found their enthusiasm for their joke shop infectious, always chipping in with ideas of her own for products, or sketching up prototypes for them to look at. 

Slowly, her days were filled with laughter and warmth. 

It was a little jarring at first, spending so much time with people who actually cared about her, people who wanted to hear what she said and see what she created. It surprised her, really, how quickly she had become accustomed to being around them. 

After a while, though, she found herself wanting to spend as much time as possible with George. She lived for the routine that they had formed, spending most of their breaks and meals together. 

It struck her on a seemingly ordinary day, the realization that she was falling for him. 

Y/N and George were at a far corner in the library, discussing how the product designs she made could be tweaked a little. He was hunched over the parchment, tracing his fingers over the soft lines of charcoal on the parchment, smudging it just a tad bit and getting some of the pigment on him.

“I love the way you drew…” 

George had said something or other about the design, but Y/N couldn’t focus on anything except the way his arm flexed as he spoke. From the corner of her eye, she kept glancing at him, noticing how the glow of candlelight cast soft shadows on his face. The freckles on his cheeks seemed to dance in the flickering light, and looking at the constellations on his face made her breath hitch in her throat. 

She couldn’t quite place why her heart was raging in her chest, as if she hadn’t spent most of her days with the red headed boy anyway. 

And then it hit her. 

Her eyebrows shot up at the sudden awareness of her feelings for George. Oh sweet Merlin and Morgana, she thought. 

You take me in your arms

And suddenly there’s sunlight all around me

“George!” 

Y/N’s voice rang through the relatively empty hallway as she raced to meet her friend. The friend that she might have been in love with. The friend that she spent hours and hours of her day with, trying to ignore the bubble of feelings that wanted so badly to burst in her chest. 

The redhead who was on his way back up to his common room paused mid-step as he heard her voice. He spun on his heel, turning just in time for him to see her barreling towards him, waving a piece of parchment above her head. 

When she nearly collided head on with him, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and steadied her, “Woah there, Y/N. There’s no need to try and kill me.”

She huffed, catching her breath slightly, “Sorry, I’m just so excited!” 

“Are you going to tell me what you’re excited about, or?” he teased, cocking his head to the side. 

With a grin on her face, she shoved the piece of parchment she was holding into George’s hands, “I just figured out how the general design of the Wonder Witch products should look like! See here there’s a–”

“Godric I love you.”

Both bodies froze at the statement. George immediately felt his whole body get hot, no doubt tinging his cheeks and the tips of his ears red. Y/N’s mouth was slightly agape, her mind whirring with all kinds of thoughts as she tried to comprehend what had just come out of George’s mouth. 

“What?” she asked, unable to form a proper sentence. 

George took a deep breath, there was no going back now, “Erm, yeah. I fancy the hell out of you, Y/N. That wasn’t the way I would’ve preferred to tell you but, I do–I do love you, yeah.” 

“Oh, Georgie,” Y/N whispered. 

Taking her answer as a rejection, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s alright that you don’t feel the same way, I don’t want this to ruin–”

Instead of replying, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in a hug, “I love you too, you silly boy.” 

The nerves got the better of her, and her words were slightly muffled as she whispered them into his chest. 

“Come again?” 

“I love you too, George!” 

A wide grin spread across his face as he looked at the girl in his arms. He felt like he could fly with how happy he was. Everything he needed was right in front of him, and he would hold her close for as long as he could. 

–

General taglist: @expectoevans​ @george-fabian-weasley​ @gxthsanrio​ @slytherinscribbles​ @harpyloon​ @nuttytani​ @mesmerisedangel​ @amourtentiaa​ @hufflepuff5972

Weasley twins taglist: @whizboingies​ @pineapplesandpinas​ @papapapadumb​ @mrs-g-weasley​ @a-castle-of--glass​ @hey-there-angels​

#kai's showtunes fics #george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagines #george weasley imagine #george weasley fics #george weasley fic #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #tw food mention #tw bullying

[rebrandedbard]

Gifted Glances Stolen Smiles

wc - 2391

Ao3 link.

Jaskier is trying to get Geralt to smile, but he just can't seem to figure out what it takes, and he maybe gives Geralt a goodnight kiss while he sleeps. In the meantime, Geralt thinks they're already in a relationship that's moving at the speed of a glacier and he's sweet about it.

-

Did Geralt ever smile, Jaskier wondered? The man was stoic at the best of times, and at the worst, his face was warped with displeasure. It was a treat to see Geralt relaxed: the lines of his wrinkles would soften, his brow unfurrow, and—if Jaskier were very lucky—Geralt would close his eyes and rest awhile, looking nearly content.

Jaskier liked it best when Geralt slept. He was always the last one asleep, the first one awake. It was a rare thing to catch Geralt unconscious, and Jaskier was sure that was by design. But twice he’d woken in the middle of the night and found himself nose to nose with the sleeping witcher. The first time, it had been nearly impossible to see his face in the darkness, but the second, the moon had been almost full, so big and bright, and she’d cast her light upon his face. It was like the light which fell through the windows of a cathedral to embrace the masterworks of great artists upon the altars. And what better pedestal for Geralt than a soft pillow? If Jaskier had his way, he’d wrap Geralt in the finest linen sheets, lay him on a down mattress, all bathed in lavender for a restful night’s sleep. He wondered what his face would look like then. Beautiful, no doubt.

Geralt had almost seemed to be smiling, softened in sleep. Jaskier had not been able to help himself. He tipped his head forward and placed the gentlest kiss upon his brow; a silent good-night, and a blessing for pleasant dreams. If he tried, Jaskier could trick himself into believing Geralt really did smile after.

Alas, Jaskier lamented: Geralt wasn’t one for smiling. But then again, he’d never been one for talking much either, and the next day he was unusually chatty. Geralt had said, ‘Good morning’ and used up a few of his precious fifty words a day to complain about Jaskier’s breath before breakfast. When they’d sat down to eat, Geralt asked if Jaskier wanted to return to the room, have his sleep out while he went off to see the alderman. A very unusual offer. Geralt often had Jaskier tag along to collect payment, as Jaskier had a persuasive tongue. With Jaskier at his side, Geralt received most of his payment in full.

“Are you trying to trick me, witcher?” Jaskier asked. “Trying to give me the slip and make off while I’m asleep? Tell me, what have you put in my morning tea? Have you spread some sleeping draught on my bread instead of jam?”

He took a great bite, swallowed it down with a monstrous slurp, then pretended to gag. He threw a hand over his forehead and went limp over his plate.

Geralt rolled his eyes and nudged Jaskier’s foot under the table.

“I live!” Jaskier gasped theatrically.

“It’s a miracle,” Geralt deadpanned.

Jaskier grinned and tucked back in, chewing at a more gentlemanly pace. “So. What is it? Have I got bags under my eyes or something? You’re being generous.”

“I just thought you might be tired.”

“Well, that was courteous of you. But rest assured, I am well rested.”

Geralt hummed. He returned to his breakfast without another word, and Jaskier regarded it as a fluke of the early morning.

Until it happened again in the market.

They were returning from their meeting with the alderman—only stiffed by one silver coin—when Jaskier wheedled his way into an extra hour of shopping. Geralt followed along at Jaskier’s side while he flitted from stall to stall, abusing this sudden burst of generosity to have a bit of fun.

“Look at this, Geralt!” Jaskier held up a little floral sachet embroidered with two stars. It was filled with lavender and chamomile, with just a hint of cinnamon.

“This,” he explained, “is a charm for good dreams. See these two stars here? They’re wishing stars. The first grants blessings for good dreams during your first sleep, the second for your second. You see, most charms try to lay a sort of blanket-blessing for the whole night, which is why they never work. My grandmother made one of these for me when I was little and she used both stars. I never had a poor night’s sleep with it under my pillow.”

“Hm.” Geralt picked up the sachet, examining it with an amused expression.

Jaskier liked when Geralt looked smug. It was not the smile he truly wanted, but anything like a smile was a blessing to see. He was always glad when Geralt enjoyed himself.

Geralt dangled the little sachet in front of Jaskier’s nose, swinging it slightly. “And how did you sleep last night? Are you in need of a sleeping charm?” he asked.

Jaskier stiffened. That made twice that Geralt had suggested sleeping poorly. Jaskier had been sure he’d been asleep, but now he had an inkling that he was being made the fool. He lightly tugged the sachet from his hand and returned it to the stall.

Geralt resumed his silence after they left the market.

That night, Jaskier slept with his back to Geralt. He thought he could feel Geralt’s eyes on the back of his head long after they snuffed the candle. He nearly jumped when he felt the arm wrap around his waist.

Geralt pulled him to his chest and spoke in his ear. “Calm down,” he murmured. “You’re thinking too loudly. I can’t sleep.”

Jaskier nodded, heart racing with nervous energy.

“This too,” Geralt said, placing a hand over the thrumming in his chest.

“I’m afraid that’s out of my hands.”

“It’s in mine. So relax. You have nothing to fear with me.”

That was … a strange sort of comment. Strange, and oddly calming. Jaskier played them over in his head, imagining them in a new context. He closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of Geralt wrapped around him, warm and steady. Geralt’s breath tickled his neck. And yes, Geralt had his hand over his heart. His heart was, in many ways, in Geralt’s hand.

Jaskier smiled, cracking an eyes to look up at the moon. “I’m not afraid of any werewolves sniffing about tonight if that’s what you were thinking.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Hm. So what do you think I’m afraid of?”

Geralt only hummed in reply.

Jaskier turned under Geralt’s arm. “Oh no, I said ‘hm’ first. You have to say something else. I already used it in this conversation.”

“Hm,” Geralt replied again, a funny little smirk on his face.

“I’ll smother you,” Jaskier threatened, putting a hand on Geralt’s pillow to make good.

But Geralt took the hand from under his head and wrapped it around Jaskier’s. “Wish you would,” he murmured.

“Come now, Geralt. The pay wasn’t that bad. And I don’t really mean to suffocate you; you don’t have to hold me back.”

“You need more sleep. You’re slow-witted today.”

Jaskier frowned. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

So he did, and things were relatively normal as the week progressed. Evidently, Jaskier looked rested enough, and Geralt no longer felt the need to make comments. Perhaps that had been all. Jaskier had to admit, he was tired. Or perhaps it was more convenient to pretend. He didn’t like thinking that Geralt had woken, and he didn’t believe Geralt would toy with him.

They were on the path again, and Jaskier returned to his musing. What, he wondered, would make Geralt smile? He told jokes at the tavern at the next town, hoping to steal one little grin. Now and then he cast a look over his shoulder to see if Geralt might laugh, but after the first few jokes he had to concede. He spent the rest of comedy hour focusing on his circle of patrons, laughing and drinking while he waited for Geralt to finish his lunch.

In the evening, he worked the same crowd, hopping round and round in a dance as he played his songs. He played a few songs Geralt had deemed not horrendously irredeemable in the past to see if that might do the trick, then tossed in a few cheeky verses of ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for good measure. He bought Geralt an extra ale. A second plate.

Geralt never did smile, but at least he looked pleased.

When Jaskier had a moment spare, he brushed Roach and polished her tack. It would seem this quest of his was never-ending. All month long he’d been asking himself the question, and honestly, his efforts were uninspired. He wasn’t doing anything more or less than what he would normally do, sprinkling in little treats here and there which he thought Geralt might enjoy. There wasn’t  anything special in it. The lack of imagination bothered Jaskier and he knew that if he wanted Geralt to smile, he would have to think of something bigger, grander!

But Geralt was different. Geralt didn’t mull over these things. It was surprising, yes, when Geralt went out of his way to do things for him, but he didn’t agonize over doing them. As easily as Geralt set his bags down at the campfire, he might place an apple by Jaskier’s elbow. The day might be long, but Geralt would set up camp at midday to let them rest, just when Jaskier was aching for a good lie down.

Jaskier lay awake after his first sleep some nights, watching him, thinking it over. The more Jaskier thought about it, the more he became aware of the little things Geralt did. They were more frequent now. At least once a day, Geralt did something to make him smile. All Jaskier wanted was to do the same.

What, Jaskier asked himself. What would make him smile?

He stood in the tailor’s mirror, asking himself the question once more as he adjusted his new doublet. He turned this way and that, plucking at the sleeves. It would be autumn soon enough, and he needed to dress for the season. He thought a nice red would do.

Geralt sat on a stool to one side, a new cloak folded upon his lap. It was Jaskier’s treat for the day, and he had bullied Geralt into accepting it.

Jaskier’s eyes flicked to the side of the mirror. He hoped he might steal a glance of Geralt smiling at the new cloak. It was a black wool, lined with soft fleece. It was still a bit early to wear anything so heavy, but Geralt was always telling him to think ahead. This village was known for their particular breed of sheep, and the coin was good, so Jaskier thought it wise to invest in the warmest, softest wool in the east. Silently, Jaskier dared anyone to try and find a more thoughtful gift than that! It was a smart gift, he thought, and to his great shock, he saw it at last.

Geralt was smiling, a real, true smile. Not a smile born of politeness, nor a wry grimace, not a smirk, but a genuine smile. But Geralt was not looking at the cloak.

Geralt caught Jaskier’s eye in the mirror.

Jaskier turned and said, “You’re smiling.”

“I do that,” he replied.

“Not often. I hardly ever see it.”

Great shrugged. “You’re too busy most of the time.”

“I’ve been trying to catch you smiling all month long! I’ve been constantly vigilant. How could I be too busy?”

“You’re singing. You’re talking and dancing, writing. Having fun. I like to watch you do it,” Geralt answered. “Almost as much as you like to watch me sleep.”

Jaskier flushed. “You know about that?” he asked.

Geralt stood, setting the cloak aside, and crossed the room to stand beside him. “I don’t mind. It’s no different from my watching you.” As he spoke, he carefully slipped his hand into Jaskier’s. “I understand if you still want to move slowly, but some nights I wish that you would kiss me again. I thought you were trying to tell me you were ready for more.”

Jaskier’s heart stopped.

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders, looking at their reflection in the mirror. “Even so,” he said, leaning his head against Jaskier’s cheek, “I’m happy where we are now. I’m all in, Jaskier. However long it takes, I don’t mind waiting.”

“Waiting?” Jaskier squawked. He did not currently have the capacity to process everything Geralt had said, and Geralt had said quite a lot—very plainly spoken—in less than a minute.

Geralt nodded. “As long as you need.”

“You’ve been waiting on me. Waiting for me to … I beg your pardon, but did you say you wanted me to kiss you?”

“I did.”

Jaskier’s limp hands remembered themselves. They rose to cover over Geralt’s arms. Jaskier simply gaped into the mirror. Slowly, a smile lit up his eyes.

“Hey, Geralt?” he said.

“Hm.”

“I bet you a gold coin I know a way, guaranteed, to make you smile again on command.”

Geralt chuckled. “You’re broke.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m guaranteed to win.”

“Given your tone, I have a funny idea I’m about to win something as well.”

Jaskier turned in Geralt’s arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Geralt hummed. “I love being right,” he said.

“And what else do you love, my dear?” Jaskier brought a hand up to curl a teasing finger around Geralt’s long white hair. He felt giddy and silly. He wanted to dance and sing and act a fool, then leap into Geralt’s arms. But never mind the leaping; at that very moment, he was right where he wanted to be.

Geralt shushed him. Slowly, he unwrapped himself from Jaskier and walked back to the stool. He picked up the cloak and wrapped it around himself, after which he bumped Jaskier out of the mirror to have a look.

“My new cloak,” he answered.

Jaskier laughed and bumped him back. “I have excellent taste.”

“You do.” And Geralt adjusted Jaskier’s ruffled tie.

They stood together, side by side in the mirror, stealing glances at one another. No, not stealing, Jaskier realized, for this was allowed. He would not steal glances this day forward. From now on, they would be a gift. So he gifted Geralt with another glance and winked.

And Geralt smiled.

#drabbles #my fic #witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #this is just pure fluff