#found a good rake brush...feel like my life has been changeD

[justatouchjaded]

(Continued from here with @scxrytxles )

scxrytxles:

Alice listens. And she watches. And she tries, again, to imagine what the many lives the child has lived might have looked like. How they might have tasted to pucker his mouth and curdle his soft, sweet little face. Her expression mirrors his, only a bit and only for a moment before her cheer returns. A viciously bright sort of optimism that swings like a heavy pendulum. “That’s perfect!” She points at him, so hard and fierce and quick that the penz flies from her fingers and whizzes past his head. Whoops! She can’t stop, now, though, this is important. Alice springs to her feet, notebook loosely clutched between her fingers as she trots across the floor. Her shadow creeps across Diamond’s little form as she peers over him, searching for the purple sheen of her pen. Ooh, there it is. She drops to her knees, reaches past him and pats the ground until her fingers close around the cool metal and she brings it back to herself. Alice glances over her shoulder, considers going back to her place, but decides No. She’d rather sit here. Alice plops onto the floor, scoots close so that she can feel the warmth of a Person beside her, and Diamond can see her paper. Well. Almost. Her hair is… it’s kind of in the way. Alice quickly brushes it to the side, fingers raking through it to force it to stop, sit, STAY- “I, Alice Riddle-Tongue,” She begins, curled and looping letters blooming from the nib in a smooth line of glittery ink. It takes a moment for her letters to catch up with her mouth, of course, because it is important that it be legible. The recipe won’t do Diamond much good if he can’t read it, hm? “Daughter Life who was born of Mother Death, Sister to the Cicadas and Keeper of Creations great and small charge Diamond thus-” A pause. She gathers her words like river stones, looking for the smoothest and shiniest and prettiest - “Every seven days, he will follow his mother and father to my temple with an offering, be it drawn or written or cooked in the hearth, and he will leave it-” She pauses, flow interrupted. A soft, conspiratorial whisper. “Diamond? Can you describe the temple for me?”

Diamond hesitates as Alice settles beside him. She’s a god. But he’s tired, and she picked him up earlier with none of the wariness his parents fail to hide from him, and…

His fragile will cracks when Alice brushes her hair out of the way, and he cautiously leans against her side, head resting on her upper arm. Her skin is cool. It soothes the edges of the headache that’s been starting to build as he tries to answer her questions. 

He stays there, if Alice lets him; watches her write, skilled dark hands crafting glittering lines, and listens to the smooth, poetic rhythm of her voice. 

A rhythm that falters, coaxing out a fond smile and a silent breath of a laugh. Alice’s whisper has the air of a hushed conversation in a theater—a furtive attempt to avoid interrupting her own performance. It feels almost like an invitation behind the curtain, intentional or not.

“Sure. Ah…” Diamond straightens, fluffy brows furrowing with soft concentration as he calls the layout to mind.

“The temple looks like a cottage, with a garden in front. Inside, the middle part is this big room for, ah… groups. Meetings. Mostly the chairs are set up in lines, but sometimes there are tables or pillows. People hang things on the walls — quilts, and art, and news, and feathers and things they’ve found. It changes. There are some shelves where kids can put things they find or make, too.”

He lifts his hands to frame the air, describing a central building with two offshoots. “The chapel’s its own… wing? On one side. It has a — hm.” Atrium. He knows this, but only as a ghost-word; the wrong language. Diamond grimaces and flaps that hand. “An open part, in the roof, and a pool below.” Diamond’s expression softens as he looks around Alice’s room. “Kind of like here… less stuff, but with a fountain, and altar, and plants. It’s peaceful.”

He points to the other imaginary wing on the opposite side of the temple. “The other part is the ob—ob-serv-atory, and greenhouse. I haven’t been in it, but I’ve seen bugs in the greenhouse through the glass. And then… behind the temple, between the wings, there’s another garden. It has—”

Diamond blinks as he realizes he’s droning on, and rubs at his forehead with a small sound of discomfort. He’d… been thinking about the memories of making journals, and from there the rhythm of how he would record the temple’s layout and function had taken over. He looks sheepishly up at Alice. “Mm. Sorry… is any of that what you need?”

#(did I freeze up for half a year at the notion of describing a part of your setting despite literally being invited to do so?) #(yes) #(do I still love this thread very much? also yes <3) #(sorry for the delay!! and that this is v long! and please let me know if there's anything I should change ffff) #(I promise corrections will not upset me. freezing was decision paralysis and hindbrain boundary nonsense; not fear of censure) #scxrytxles #fantasy verse: scxrytxles #Alice #rp #thread: boons #fantasy verse

[wuntrum]

dev patel my beloved

#the green knight #dev patel #sir gawain #my art #found a good rake brush...feel like my life has been changeD #its so fun to paint with !!

[elysiadjarin]

Day 1: Somnophilia

Day 1 of Kinktober! The first prompt is of course, somnophilia. Here’s my masterlist for my Kinktober challenge.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Consensual somnophilia, cumplay, unprotected sex, nonhuman character, exophilia

Tags: Hat Man x reader, exophilia, kinktober

He Comes at Night

At first, you hadn’t been sure whether it was just another case of sleep paralysis, or actually something… else.

He always came at night, standing in your doorway as you lay on your back, unable to move. Though you were used to sleep paralysis and the oftentimes terrifying figures that came along with it, this one had been different every time it showed up. It just stood in your doorway, never really moving, just watching. You never felt the usual fear that came along with most sleep paralysis demons, just a sense of… calm.

It had gotten to the point where you’d simply learned to ride it out, accepting the calm of its presence until you fell back asleep. If anything, you’d started feeling a sense of comfort from its presence. Even living alone, you felt as though it were there as another presence, just to keep you some company. You’d even thought with a flash of amusement that maybe it was there to protect you.

But that was until a few nights ago. You’d found yourself abruptly awake again, immobile in bed. But it had been different. Your eyes wouldn’t open, and you distinctly felt something heavy on your blankets, pinning you to the bed. It felt far more tangible than anything else you’d ever experienced in a moment of sleep paralysis, and it unnerved you.

Of course, that’s when you heard… that. A whisper, slithering around you, crawling against your sheets as tangibly as the weights.

Sssso delicioussss. A poke at you. He’ssss finally not here. Hey, are you… awake?

Despite the situation, it wasn’t so much fear as annoyance that gripped you in the moment. If this sleep paralysis demon was enacting paralysis on you, why would you be able to respond?

A low cackle raked down your spine. That’sssss right, you can’t move, can you. Well, you won’t need to, sssssoon. Don’t worry, the chilling voice sneered, I’ll make ssssure you can feel it.

You’d just started to feel the panic set in when the weight was ripped off of you. A loud, fearful shriek pierced through the room, followed by a distinct crunching and gurgling.

I didn’t mean to, Hat Man, have merccccccy— The voice choked off in the thick air, just as your eyes snapped open.

Thick, black slime dripped from the mangled, gangly body that hung limply in the air. The figure that had been standing in your doorway every night now stood by your beside, a giant arm outstretched as dark talons clenched around the smaller creature. The black ichor dripped from its claws, and it threw the broken body down on the floor like a rag doll. It turned its head toward you again, but relief had crashed through you at its appearance.

The tall figure, now that it had appeared so close to your bedside, clearly towered at least seven feet tall. But even when it bent its whole body over, face nearing yours, you still didn’t fear it. It had leaned over, close enough that you could imagine that you felt its nonexistent breath on your face. Then it brushed against your forehead, as though it had kissed you gently back to sleep. You’d fallen back asleep as though knocked out.

And now, as you stood at your kitchen counter, holding a mug of tea, your mind had started to wander. Specifically, you’d started to wonder about your mysterious guardian. What had started out as a private sort of joke had turned into a reality, and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. The sensations and feelings had been far too concrete to be just a hallucination or just part of another sleep paralysis experience. Even now, you could still feel the sensation of the soft, gentle wisp of shadow brushing across your forehead.

Sighing, you dumped the mug into the sink and headed for bed, pulling at the hem of your large T-shirt. In the room, you slid off your shorts and put them on a chair, only in your underwear and shirt to sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you took a moment to glance around the room. Your mind wandered to the weird, creepy spirit from the night before.

Tentatively, you decided to speak into the darkness. “Hey… I don’t know if you’re here right now, or—or listening, but… Hat Man. If you’re there, thank you. For saving me,” you said, tugging at your shirt. “I know I usually can’t move or talk, but… if you want company, you can come sit or lay down.” A little embarrassed at your own offer, you flopped back on the bed and rolled under the covers, burying your face in your pillow.

Even if it — he? — were there listening and you weren’t just talking to thin air, what would he think of your invitation? Was that too forward? Or weird?

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but you certainly jerked awake sometime later when the bed next to you dipped. Your eyes opened, this time, and you saw the hulking figure almost meekly slide into bed beside you. His weight made your body slightly tip towards him, and he shifted to face you just in time to catch you against his chest. You noticed, now fully pressed against him, that he did have a slight, dusky sort of warmth, like the faint touch of a sunbeam filtering though curtains.

His giant talon paused, and he seemed to vacillate, as though unsure what to do with himself now that he was there. Tentatively, his fingers brushed against your arm. Your body seemed to gain a little bit more movement, just enough for you to sigh and lean further into his chest. He made you feel safe, and his presence was comforting. He didn’t seem to mind your advances, so you decided not to feel guilty as his giant arm wrapped around your back.

A soft, wispy hum escaped you, and you let yourself relax with the minimal movements the paralysis seemed to be allowing. You half-wished you could talk, just to speak with him. But at the same time, you could feel the drowsiness descend again. He felt too comfortable, and the solid weight of his body against yours made you melt like putty into the bed.

As you fell asleep, you swore you could feel the Hat Man brush another soft kiss to your forehead.

~

“Whoa, wait, you got yourself a Hat Man?” Your Tiefling coworker gave you a surprised look. “They usually only come into your life because they’re drawn in some way to protect you. Have you been doing okay? Staying safe?”

You nodded. “Well, I mean, now I am thanks to him,” you clarified, eyebrows furrowing. “What with my sleep paralysis and that weird… other thing.” You shuddered a little in disgust at the memory. “He’s been protecting me from whatever that thing was, I’m assuming.”

Harlow gave you a long look. “I didn’t want to really bring this up before, but do you know of anything in your heritage that might be… well, attractive to spirits? I’ve noticed before that you seem to draw the attention of non humans.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “Well, you’re not wrong,” you admitted, rubbing your arm. “When I was born, my grandmother told my parents that I had ‘the blood of a beacon,’” you said. “I had a talisman she gave me, but… it’s been years, so maybe the potency has worn off.”

He nodded. “Probably. Especially if you have beacon blood; I’m not surprised you drew a Hat Man to protect you. You might as well be the Ultimate Desire for them,” he remarked.

Your eyes widened at his comment. “Ultimate Desire?” you asked, startled. “I mean, I know that my blood is attractive to spirits for its potency in spirit energy. But what does Ultimate Desire mean? And why would Hat Man want that?” You noted that he called it a Hat Man. So it apparently was a type of spirit or entity.

“Hmm.” Harlow pursed his lips. “Well, an easy way to put it would be… the Hat Men are guardians of sources of energy like you. They’re fueled by the energy you have, so… it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that he’s a personal bodyguard manifested by your beacon blood. The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels’ him and the more energy you give him, the stronger he’ll be and the better defense.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. So I’m basically… the ultimate source, I guess. I mean, for Hat Man.”

“Yep!” Then he gave you a sly grin. “So, you gonna get up close and personal with him?” His eyebrows wriggled at you teasingly.

Flushing, you reached over and shoved his shoulder. “Harlow, seriously!” you groaned.

He laughed, rubbing his arm exaggeratedly. “Aww c’mon, I’m just saying. He’s basically the one least likely to betray you. In other words, the safest way to get laid—“

You flounced off, leaving him to laugh and try to wheedle his way back into your good graces. Still, your mind wouldn’t stop wandering to the Hat Man. Wondered how much safer you’d feel if he decided to be just a little more handsy…

Whacking your face with your binder, you shook your head and scolded yourself. Really, Harlow must be influencing you more than you expected.

~

You slumped against the counter, groaning.

Maybe Harlow really had gotten to you, more than you’d really anticipated at first. His words kept ringing through your mind, leading to thought trains that you hadn’t really anticipated.

He’s a personal bodyguard… The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels him’ and the more energy you give him… He’s basically the one least likely to betray you.

With a defeated sigh, you picked yourself up and dragged yourself to your room. You’d wanted to go to bed early, for more reasons than you’d care to admit to yourself. Still, even as you turned the lights off and went to go change, you wondered if he would return tonight. If he’d still join you. If he’d stay.

Tugging at the T-shirt you’d slid on, you hesitated for only a moment before sliding your underwear off. Tossing it aside, you slid into bed, rolling onto your side and staring at the empty space across from you. Reaching out, you smoothed your hand against the sheets.

“I wish you were here, Hat Man,” you whispered into the quiet darkness.

To your surprise, your body almost instantly froze. A dark shape walked into view by the side of the bed, and the now-familiar talons lifted the sheets to slide into bed beside you. You vaguely wondered if the sleep paralysis the whole time had just been the spirits and now your Hat Man having an effect on you thanks to the lure of your blood.

Before you could think too much about it, though, the burly figure slid closer. Still, he didn’t hold you like he had before, and a pang of disappointment rushed through you. His arm lifted, then he seemed to hesitate.

Your body loosened a little, giving you that smidgen of movement you’d been granted last time. Without even a moment of thought, you rolled forward and snuggled into his chest again, the dusky warmth of his body soaking into you again. You sighed, gazing at the lines of his chest and the slashed scars that crossed the dark planes. Almost thoughtlessly, you traced your fingers against the edges of the scars.

You wondered how he’d gotten them. Were you the reason? Because he protected you? A pang of guilt ran through you for a moment.

He shifted, finally putting his arm around you again, as though he’d been waiting for the permission. His head bent a little, and he carefully seemed to nuzzle your hair, as though checking on you.

A little sleepy, you glanced up at him, noting the curve of his jaw. “Hi,” you breathed, your murmur quiet and wispy. Still, he pulled back and seemed to observe you curiously. His eyes, you finally noticed, had a faint sort of pale blue glow, dim in the darkness and only obvious from how close you were.

“Thank you,” you whispered, every word an effort. “For— this—“ Your fingers slipped across the lurid scars on his chest, your eyes starting to slide closed. But you fought it for a moment, determined to just… thank him. Properly. Mustering as much energy as you could, you sluggishly forced yourself up a little, just enough to brush your lips against his chin, the closest part of his face you could reach.

The talons tightened briefly against your waist, as though they’d convulsed in surprise. He seemed to freeze in front of you, processing what you’d just done.

You let out a sleepy hum, the drowsiness descending on you far faster than you would have liked. You wanted to talk with him. You wondered if he had a voice.

~

Harlow took one look at you. “Ohhh, someone’s sexually frustrated.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I can’t— Harlow,” you whined, feeling your entire face heat up.

He leaned against your desk with a sympathetic grin. “Look, if I call you out it’s only because I’m in the same boat or I’m about to help you. In this case both applies. Anyway, so, spill the tea.” He tilted his head, his polished horns gleaming under the office lights.

You sighed, then confessed everything to him. From the way you’d started feeling about your Hat Man to the way you’d started to… fantasize. Frustrated, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I just… I don’t know if it’s because I’m lonely and he’s there, or if I— I don’t even know,” you sighed, closing your eyes in defeat. “I just don’t know.”

He chuckled, reaching over to pat your arm. “Look, like I said, Hat Men are there for protection. And by the sounds of it, yours is actually attracted to you. Spirits and entities like him don’t actively search for contact like that if they’re not interested in it.” He pursed his lips. “Not to mention, if you do actually get some— how big is he?”

You gave him a half-hearted glare. “Harlow—“

He snickered. “How tall is he. Seriously, you’re the one with the dirty mind here.” He flashed you that infuriating smirk as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes, giving up. “I don’t know, probably around seven feet? It felt like it, anyway, when he was standing beside the bed.”

“Oh so he’s stacked.” Harlow cackled. “But really, as I was saying, if you do bag that one, it’s quite the mutual benefit. It’ll be a direct method of energy transfer, not to mention that he’s absolutely probably going to be loyal to you if he gets those kinds of privileges.” He shrugged flippantly. “But that’s besides the point. Here’s what I’m going to suggest, so take this as you will.”

You left work that evening with your face burning but a solid plan from Harlow. You’d figure out later if you wanted to smack him or thank him.

~

That night, as you crawled into bed, you let out a breath and sat there, clutching the blankets. Biting your lip, you glanced toward the door.

“I hope you’ll join me again, tonight,” you ventured, calling out into the darkness of your room. Swallowing, you twisted the sheets in your fingers. “And… of course, you don’t have to, but… I’d love to be able to… to talk to you. Or— or hear more about you. If you can or want to communicate. I just…” You sighed.

“I don’t know if I have to not move when you’re around. I’m not sure how that works, but either way, I— I like having you around,” you admitted. “So… thank you. For protecting me. I hope you stay. You’re welcome to make yourself at home, here.” Taking one last glance at the door, you turned over and lay down. You self-consciously rubbed your legs together, almost embarrassed by your lack of clothing besides the T-shirt.

Would it be too obvious? Was it too much? Or maybe would that be enough-?

The bed behind you dipped just as you felt yourself seized by the paralysis again. But this time, it already felt minimal, as though the tight hold had been laxed even more than before. You rolled back, feeling your back hit the warmth of his chest. Every night, it seemed that he gained a little more solidity and form, and even more of a distinct body heat. The large arm wrapped around you again, sliding across your side and down your belly, talons slipping under your waist.

You hummed, the calm and contentment washing over you again with his presence. “Hi,” you murmured, your fingers managing to curl around one of his talons.

This time, to your mingled surprise and delight, you felt the soft huff of air against your neck like breath. It wasn’t really a sound, but it was something a little more. His face nudged against your neck and shoulder, while his lower body curled up as though to surround you as much as possible. Your heart pounded, almost giddy with the happiness that rushed through you.

“Missed you,” you breathed, your words less slurred than before. You weren’t fighting the sleepiness as hard tonight, and you wondered if it really was an effect that your Hat Man had on you or if it was something else. Still, you relished it.

His movements behind you paused, and you panicked for a split second, wondering if you’d scared him away. But then he nuzzled against you again, another huff washing over your neck. In the next moment, you heard a soft, rumbling growl, so deep that you almost wondered if you’d imagined it. The moment you heard it, your breath hitched. Your stomach clenched at the sound, heat pooling between your legs.

Your teeth sank into your lower lip helplessly, your entire body both aching and on fire where he touched you, held you. Chest heaving with a burning breath, you tried to control your reaction, suppressing your shiver. You didn’t want him to leave. Wanted him to stay.

Like a whisper, words bloomed in your mind, so softly that it took you a moment to realize you didn’t hear them aloud. So pretty. So soft, so kind. The deep voice, laced with a soft Brooklyn accent, took you off guard as it slithered through your mind.

Your back arched slightly, heat splashing across your cheeks. Before you could quite stop yourself, the way you arched made your ass press back against him. A soft gasp wrenched from your lips as you felt something distinctly hard and thick press back against you. It twitched slightly, and you could feel something damp soak into your T-shirt, smearing against your skin.

A low grunt sounded behind you, just as his hips jerked away. Abruptly, his body started to slide away from you, as though he were going to leave.

The desperation flashed through you, and you found yourself suddenly free to move. You rolled over, hand reaching out.

The both of you completely froze. Your eyes, wide open, riveted on his, your fingers splayed across the scars on his chest. His blue eyes, dim but clearly focused on your face as his chest heaved under your hand.

“Please,” it spilled from your lips, quiet and desperate in the silence. “Don’t leave.”

After a moment, he gingerly lifted his hand and reached for your face, talons barely brushing across your cheek. The whisper floated through your mind again. Sorry… The embarrassment was clear in his voice, and a pale blue flush spread over the area of his cheeks. For some reason, it made him even more endearing.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered back, sure that your own cheeks were flushed with arousal and embarrassment.

He drew closer again, as though he couldn’t help himself. His face neared yours. So pretty. So warm. Sweet. The murmur was followed by the revealing of his mouth. A maw that split open the dark silhouette, black tongue sliding over sharp fangs. Wouldn’t want ta take advantage, sweetheart. Your acceptance of his advances seemed to embolden him. Don’t wanna be too greedy.

You swallowed. “I… I want you to.” Your breath quickened a little, glancing down at his maw. “You can… I— I want you to have my energy,” you offered shyly.

The eyes flared, trailing down your body. Want you. Soft. Sweet. Pretty. He seemed fixated on the description, repeating them again. Still, you couldn’t help but find yourself liking his attention.

“You can have me. Whenever.” You bit your lip briefly. “Even if I’m asleep, if you need energy… if you— if you want.”

His breath washed over your cheek as he bent closer than ever before. Kind. His telepathic voice washed over you, saturated with adoration. Kind to Varen. His tongue gently swiped over your cheek.

You half-whimpered. “Kiss?” you pleaded, desperate for more contact.

His mouth slid across yours, gentle and without a hint of teeth. His tongue flickered over your lips, and you welcomed it. His tongue slid across yours, lithe and gentle. His talons wrapped around your waist again, pulling you into his chest. His name slipped from your lips, soft and needy, and he responded instantly in the way his body shifted closer, half-pinning you under him. His lips slid across yours, trailing down your cheek, your jaw, your throat.

To your frustration, you could feel yourself getting almost unbearably sleepy, the drowsiness tugging at you again. You suddenly wondered if it had to do with him drawing on your energy, feeding off of it, but in the next moment you were completely distracted by the way he gently rutted against your thigh.

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep.

You dreamed.

Dreamed of Varen, mostly, your mind fantasizing about his claws wrapping around you, pushing you further into the bed, hands wandering further. Of him sliding your T-shirt up, tangling his talons around it, using it as leverage to keep your body still as he slid his cock between your thighs. You swore you could feel it, could feel his talons pricking faintly against your skin as he rutted between your thighs, his tongue dragging over your shoulder and up the arch of your neck.

You could even feel the way his precum started dribbling down your skin, smearing across your thighs, mingling with your own wetness, coating his cock as he slid it against you. And then his cock angling up, just as his talons tightened around your hips and pulled you down against him. His tip slid into you, just as his breath washed over your shoulder.

You woke up as Varen’s maw closed over your shoulder and he pulled you all the way down onto him. Still groggy and half-disoriented from waking up, you could only let out a strangled whine and arch your back, unwittingly pressing yourself further against him. The insistent throb of him inside you and the way your body clenchedaround him was proof that it wasn’t just a dream.

You were still groggy, whimpers spilling from your lips as you lay there pliantly, not resisting anything he was doing. You stayed half-asleep, already blissed out just by the sensation of him filling you.

So good. His soft accent curled through your frazzled mind, satisfied and soothing. So pretty. Doing so good, sweetheart. It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything. Gonna take care of you, pretty.

The knot in your core kept tightening, coiling with every gentle thrust he made, his hips fairly rolling against you. He shifted behind you, his claws gentle but decisive as he rolled you onto your stomach. His body followed, pinning you under him as his legs tangled with yours and his talons around your hips held you in place. He mouthed your shoulder, just barely pricking you with his fangs as his tongue soothed over the soft bites.

Your eyelashes barely fluttered, your body bathed in the dusky heat of pleasure. Despite being half-asleep, the way he steadily pumped in and out of you was so careful, so gentle. You already felt entirely wrecked, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whined. The angle and the way he curled up inside you kept hitting that one spot that sent stars flashing behind your eyelids every time he thrust. Your fingers clenched in the pillow, body trembling. You were so close.

Pretty little thing. Varen cooed, infatuation saturating every word, every thrust into you. Being so good. So… close… The soft, deep growl rumbled through his chest and down into you as well.

The tight coil inside you burst, like a coiled spring. The dusky heat washed through your body in a wave of pleasure, your orgasm roiling through you with a steady but undeniable strength. Varen fucked you through it, extending your orgasm as you trembled and sobbed out his name. He never let go of you, whispering your name as he kissed your throat and praised you softly.

It wasn’t until you’d come down that he came, jerking against you and letting out a low moan. His hips pressed flush against yours, his seed spilling into you with a rush of warmth that settled in you, soaking into the rest of your body. You basked in it, utterly spent and satisfied in a way you couldn’t remember ever being before.

Vaguely, you felt Varen roll back onto his side, pulling you along with him. Though he didn’t pull out of you, he still nuzzled against your neck and curled around you, pulling you flush against him.

You fell back asleep to the sensation of warmth and comfort.

When you woke up the next morning, Varen was gone. The only proof you had of last night was a small smear of faint blue on your inner thigh and the feeling of warmth still pooling in your belly, like a kernel of heat. With a smile, you looked up at the doorway again.

“Thank you, Varen,” you said softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

The only answer you received was a small flash of blue that flickered in the doorway.

~ Bonus! ~

Harlow took one look at you as you walked into work before letting out a whoop. “Heck yeah, bestie got laid!” He laughed, hugging you.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be annoyed at him, though you shook your head with a sigh. “Thanks for your advice, Harl,” you said, smiling.

He grinned, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Course, what are best friends for? Best wingman award who?” he cackled. “Anyway, tell me the dirty details. Oh, should we go celebrate?”

You shook your head. “Never change, Harl. Never change.”

#elysiadjarinkinktober #kinktober #my writing #mywriting #elysiadjarin #nsft #x reader #exophilia #terato #monsterfucker #monster lover #xyou

[twdsunshine]

Broken: Pt. 10

Summary:  Mechanic!Daryl AU.  Tabitha Dean has returned to her hometown for the first time in years, fleeing a life that isn’t quite what she thought it would be.  When her car breaks down, the mechanic who comes to her rescue is none other than Daryl Dixon, the shy, strange boy that she remembers from her school days.  But a lot has changed since then, and, when Tabby’s life catches up with her, she finds herself in need of someone to fix her broken parts.  Is Daryl up to the job?

Pairing:  Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings:  Language, mentions of domestic violence

Word Count:  4,626

Check out my bio for a link to my Masterlist!

*****

Daryl stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking a moment to brace his arms on the edge of the sink and just breathe.  His tanned skin was unusually pale, the smear of blood across his cheek, where he’d rested it against Tabby’s head as he held her, standing out in stark contrast.  The sight of it made him feel nauseous, and he swallowed hard, dipping his gaze to the water that was swirling in the basin.  With a muttered curse, he began to wash his hands, scrubbing away the traces of crimson and soaping them up twice to make sure they were clean before pulling open the cupboard below and retrieving a battered first aid kit.  It had been a long time since he’d had a use for it, but it was still his habit to keep it well-stocked, just in case.  He found he had to psych himself up to return to the living room where Tabby waited, tucked into one corner of the couch, a mess of cuts and bruises that he was sure would take less time to heal than her mind.  He couldn’t bear to see her like that, and, each time his eyes raked over her, it hit him like a punch to the gut.  He was already making plans in his head to ensure that this never happened to her ever again, no matter what it took.

Folding himself down beside her, he propped the kit on his knees, moving to brush her hair aside before stopping himself with a frown.  “S’alright if I touch ya?”  He knew he was probably asking too late, had already held her in his arms and reached out to her to offer comfort, but he also knew that the fear could come in waves, and he didn’t want to just assume that it was okay without checking in and gaining her consent.

“You don’t have to ask,” she assured him, though she swept it back over her shoulder herself, tucking the dark locks behind her ears to keep it out of the way.

He shrugged.  “I know what it’s like.  Sometimes… Sometimes ya just don’t wanna be touched after.  I remember that.  Still ain’t good with it now.”

“Neither am I,” she confessed, “except with you.  I trust you.”

He nodded, moving to gently grip her chin, angling her face so he could inspect the gash on her forehead more closely.  “Might have to stitch that.”

“I figured.  Probably this one too, huh?”  She tugged up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing a deep laceration on the inside of her forearm that he’d been unaware of before.  “Glass from a picture frame,” she explained at his questioning look.  “Threw my arm up to protect myself.  You know how it is.”

“Still glass in it,” he observed as he tugged her hand into his lap, leaning over the wound and tilting it towards the sunlight streaming in through the windows.  “Gonna need to get that out.”

“Great.”  She was gritting her teeth in anticipation of the pain, he knew, but there was little he could do to help.  In the past, he might have offered her a shot of whiskey, but he’d learned the hard way that alcohol acted as a blood thinner, and he didn’t want to risk it when she might have other injuries that she’d yet to show him.

“I’ll do it quick,” was the only promise he could make, and she sank back against the cushions with a hesitant nod, turning her head away as he pulled out a pair of tweezers and set the kit aside.  “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Anythin’,” he told her.  “Tell me somethin’ good.”

She thought for just a moment before asking, “Y’know what I was saying before?  About how you’re more like my dad than I realised?  Did I ever tell you about the time he taught me to ride a bike?”  He listened as he worked, probing tentatively at the tacky blood that had congealed around the cut until he could reach the small shard buried within.  Her voice was steady, her tone even, despite the fact that he knew he must be hurting her.   At the shake of his head, she went on.  “So, he did that typical thing parents do, that whole ‘I won’t let go, I swear!  Just keep pedalling!’  And I did.  I was whizzing down the street with the wind in my hair, feeling like I was flying or something.  I still remember it now.  But I was so lost in the feeling, the exhilaration, that I closed my eyes.”  She flinched, though Daryl wasn’t sure if that was at the story or because he’d begun to gingerly work the piece of glass out of her flesh.  “Hit the edge of the sidewalk like a jackass because I wasn't looking where I was going, and, of course, Dad had let go twenty yards back.  I bit it; straight over the handlebars, onto the concrete.”

“Ouch.”

“Right?  I scraped myself up good, but the worst part was all the little stones that embedded themselves in my skin.  They were really deep in there, and Dad picked me up and took me home, and then he did this.  He pulled out a pair of tweezers and started to pick them all out.  Except he asked me to sing to him as a distraction.”  At Daryl’s amused look, she pointed a finger at him.  “Don’t even think about it.”

He smirked, and it grew into a victorious smile as he finally pulled the shard free and held it up for Tabby to see.  “Got it!”

He dropped it onto the arm of the couch and twisted to rummage through his supplies, tugging out a sealed bottle of saline solution and a wad of gauze.  Tabby was watching him warily.  “Oh God, I hate this part.”

“Gotta clean ya up ‘fore I can stitch ‘em; the rest of yer cuts too.  Don’t want ‘em gettin’ infected.”  He hesitated for a moment, casting his gaze over her before clearing his throat.  “Ya got any others ya need me to take a look at?”

“Hard to tell.  Everything hurts.”

Daryl swallowed hard, his mouth going dry as he gestured towards the bottom of her sweater.  “Ya mind if I…?”

He watched as colour stained her cheeks, and she caught her lip between her teeth, seemingly caught in a silent debate with herself before she nodded.  “Yeah.  Go ahead.”

His fingers curled into the soft jersey fabric, slowly easing it up the length of her body so he could pull it carefully over her head, and he’d imagined doing exactly that, more times than he would ever admit to, but it had never looked like this in his mind.  One side of her rib cage was a mess of red and purple, and she had more bruising further south on her stomach, as if a fist or a boot had been driven into it with vicious force.  There was an angry bite mark on the swell of her left breast where it spilled over the top of her bra, and he moved without thinking, raising his hand to trail his fingertips over the indentations, receiving a sad sigh in response.

“Shit, Tab...”  His touch slipped to her ribs, and he moved his hands gently over the mottled skin, applying light pressure here and there.  “S’it hurt if I press right here?”  She hissed in pain, and he couldn't help but mirror her grimace.  “M’sorry.”

“It’s okay.”  She fixed him with a tight smile, though it did nothing to hide her discomfort.  “They’re broken, right?”

“Few of ‘em, I reckon.  I’d take ya to the emergency room, but-”

“-there’s nothing they can do.”  Another strained smirk, and she cocked her head to one side, studying him as she admitted, “I know.  Been there, done that; a couple of times, actually.  You too, I’d imagine.”

“Mmm.  Once or twice.”  He busied himself opening the solution and pouring it onto a section of gauze, ready to start cleaning her up, and, when he next looked up, her face had fallen, her mouth trembling with emotion.  “Hey…”

“Are we bad people?”  He hadn’t been expecting the question, and his gaze locked with hers, wishing he could read her mind so he might know the right thing to say to make everything better.  “I mean, I don’t know about me, but I don’t think you’re a bad guy.  I think you’re the best guy.”

“Tab-”

“What did we do to deserve this, Daryl?  What did we do to deserve any of this?”

*****

Daryl had fallen silent as he cleaned Tabby’s cuts and scrapes, working methodically, the tip of his tongue sneaking out of one corner of his mouth as he concentrated on the task.  His touch was a soothing balm to her pain, despite the sting of the salt solution as it soaked into her open wounds, because he was being so gentle with her, so kind, his callused hands soft and tender as he wiped the blood from her skin.  She wasn’t sure that anybody in her life had ever handled her with such delicate care, and she felt almost drunk on it, her discomfort numbed by his efforts to fix her, to make her better, make her whole again.  A part of her wondered if it was partially driven by the fact that he’d never had anyone there to do this for him when he’d been broken, beaten down; if it was his own abuse that had resulted in him having such a big heart, being so unselfish and loyal to a fault.  She supposed she would never know for sure, but, as he set down the gauze and reached for a disposable suture pack, she was more grateful to him than she would ever be able to put into words.

He began with the gash on her arm, and she fixed her eyes on his face, tried to focus on the furrow in his brow, the darker ring around the vivid blue of his irises, the crooked slant of his mouth and the different shades of brown and silver in his scruff, rather than the repetitive bite of the needle as it pierced her flesh.  He wasn’t conventionally handsome, she knew.  He was too rough around the edges, his gaze a little too sharp, his hair a little too long, his expression reverting to a dark scowl by default.  But when he smiled, which happened just rarely enough that it felt like a treat to see it, he took her breath away.  That sharp gaze softened and brightened, his cheeks would flush with just a slight tint of pink, and he’d duck his head, the tips of his ears peeking out from his mess of dark hair, and she’d find it impossible to tear her gaze away, captivated by him.  He was smiling at her now, though there was too much concern behind it to seem genuine, and she pulled her arm back to study his handiwork.

“Not bad.”

“Lotta practice.  S’always easier on someone else.”  He reached for another length of suture thread and nudged his chin towards her.  “S’get the other one done.  Then I can get ya some ice for them ribs.”

It proved awkward to find a comfortable position that would allow him the access he needed to the wound on her forehead, and Tabby ended up lying along the couch with her head in Daryl’s lap as he bent over her, his breath ghosting over her face.  It almost made it easier, the intimacy of the close proximity.  When the pain was almost overwhelming, she let herself get lost in his eyes, not having to search hard for the affection that resided there, only slightly masked by his worry, and, when that almost felt a little too intense, she let her gaze drift to his lips and remembered how warm they’d felt against hers, firm but yielding as he’d sated her hunger for him with devastating kisses.  She could lose hours kissing him, she’d discovered, and she had; would willingly have dragged him to her bed on many occasions, but she’d always held herself back because she’d known, somehow, that the issue of Shane wasn’t resolved.  It had felt too easy to pack a bag and slip away, too simple.  And, of course, she’d been right.

“Yer good,” Daryl announced, snipping off the last suture and wiping over the stitches one last time.  

“Thank you.”

“Can ya sit up?”  When she tried, letting out a soft cry of pain, he slipped a hand beneath her back, supporting her weight until she was sitting upright.  She twisted round so she could set her feet on the floor and turned to look at him, finding that he was watching her tentative movements with a frown.  “Y’alright?”

“Mmhmm.  I will be.”  She leaned forward as far as her ribs would allow, and he caught on to her intention, moving to meet her and cupping her face, his touch feather-light.  His lips were the same as they brushed against hers, and she knew he was afraid of causing her any more pain, though she longed to really feel him, to know that he was still there.  Their fight and the hurt that she'd caused him still felt heavy in her chest, and she knew they had more to talk about when the time was right, that she couldn’t expect too much from him before they’d figured things out, so she forced herself to pull away, reaching for her discarded sweater and untangling it, needing to keep her hands busy.  

“Need help with that?”

“I’m good.” 

“Aright then.  I’mma get ya that ice.”  He climbed to his feet and made to leave the room, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t go nowhere.”

But, honestly, Tabby thought as she tugged her sweater back on, breath catching in the back of her throat as the movement sent pain spiking through her, even if she’d had anywhere else to go, there was nowhere she’d rather be.

*****

Daryl passed the rest of the day watching over Tabby as she slept.  He’d given her the strongest painkillers he could find in his bathroom cabinet, and she’d crashed out not long after, stretched out on the couch with an ice pack on her ribs and the sun’s rays dancing over her face as it moved across the sky.  He’d dragged a wooden chair in from the small table in his kitchen, setting it up beside the TV so that he’d notice if she stirred, intending to scroll through his phone, or flick through one of the car magazines that Rick had lent him, or perhaps work on another carving, but, instead, he’d found himself just gazing at her, marvelling at the fact that this girl, this woman - so beautiful, so strong, so incredibly brave - actually seemed to like him, to think he was worthy of her time, to want to kiss him and wrap herself around him until he wasn’t sure where he ended and she began.  It was still something he struggled to wrap his head around.

On the few occasions when he managed to tear his eyes away, his focus was on the street outside his window, his senses on high alert in case Shane should appear, ready to go another round.  It wouldn’t be hard for him to track her down, Daryl knew.  He’d obviously caught on to the fact that they were friends, at least, would know his name from his overalls and where he worked.  Anyone in town would be able to point him in the right direction.  That was the problem with small towns.  There was nowhere to hide.

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky and dusk closed in, she finally woke, groaning quietly and blinking in confusion, as if she couldn’t quite work out where she was.  

“Daryl?”

“Hey, m’here.  Y’alright?  How ya feelin’?”  She was frowning at him, hissing through her teeth as she tried to sit up, and he immediately moved to crouch at her side to help her.  “Probably should’a woken ya, made ya go to bed.  Couch gets real hard if ya sleep on it long enough.”

“No, it’s… it’s okay.”  Shaking her head, as if to clear the fog of sleep from her mind, she ran her hand through her hair, grimacing as her fingers caught in the matted tangles.  “How long was I out?”

“All day, pretty much.  S’the adrenaline an’ the shock wearin’ off.  It gets ya like that sometimes.”

“All day?  Really?”  Daryl nodded, chuckling as she stifled a yawn.  “God, I’m sorry.  I’m the worst houseguest ever.”

“Nah, y’ain’t a guest.”

She arched a brow at him.  “I’m not?”

“Nah,” he said again, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, feeling his face flush a little with heat.  How was he supposed to explain, he wondered, that she didn’t feel like a guest because… because it felt like she belonged there, in his home, at his side; that she’d barely been there twelve hours, and, already, he desperately wanted her to stay.  He couldn’t.  He was partially responsible for the state she was in and, because of that, he’d relinquished any right to say those things to her, even if he had been able to find the words.  Instead, he just shrugged and muttered, “Yer just… Tab.”

“Right.”  She made to climb to her feet, wincing at the movement, and he pushed himself upright, one arm slipping around her to support her as she straightened up.  For a moment, she froze, her face screwed up against the pain, and he hated it, hated feeling so helpless, but then she shot him a small smile, her hand slipping behind him and coming to rest against his spine, fisting the fabric of his shirt.  “Thank you.”

“S’alright.  I got ya.”  He held her steady for a moment, waiting, and, when she didn’t move again, he frowned.  “Where ya goin’?”

“I- I don’t know,” she admitted.  “Just felt like I needed to stand, stretch out my joints.”

“Alright then.”  He swung round to stand in front of her, letting his hands fall to her hips as he gazed down at her, unable to contain his grin when she reached up to tuck his hair back behind his ear.  He knew it was getting too long and probably needed a cut, but, if it meant that she touched him like that, he doubted that he’d get it done any time soon.  “Ya hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Thirsty?  Ya should probably drink somethin’.”

“No, I’m okay.”  She let her head fall forward to rest against his chest, and he stepped closer to her, letting her nuzzle into him.  He could still smell the faintest trace of the perfume that she would’ve put on the evening before, but it was overwhelmed by the sickeningly metallic scent of blood, and she must have come to the same realisation as she lifted her face from where it rested against him and asked, “Could I take a shower?”

“Yeah, course.”  He hadn’t bothered to offer before, unsure if it would worsen her pain to rub shampoo into her hair and lather herself up, but he could imagine that she was feeling pretty gross and uncomfortable.  “If yer sure yer up to it?”

She nodded, and he tried not to notice that she was walking with a noticeable limp as they slowly made their way down the corridor to the bathroom, pausing while he reached into a small closet and pulled out a fresh towel for her to use.  

“S’just through here.”  Daryl led her inside, releasing his hold on her to lean into the shower cubicle and start the water running, holding a hand under the spray and adjusting the heat until it grew warm.  When he turned back around, Tabby was shuffling awkwardly on the spot, her face flushed pink, and he immediately understood why as he ran his eyes down the length of her body.  “Ya need help?”

“I’m not sure I can bend to get my boots off,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper, “or my jeans.  I’m sorry, I should’ve thought before I asked.”

He nodded, already dropping to his knees on the hard tiles, determined not to give her time to feel embarrassed.  “S’alright.  I got it.”  His fingers fumbled for a moment with the zip of her boot, but he sucked in a breath and forced himself to concentrate, finally managing to tug it down before moving on to the other.  When they were both undone, he glanced up at her.  “Grab hold’a my shoulders.”  She did as he said, her grip biting as he lifted one of her legs and tugged one boot free, then repeated the action on the other side, finally pulling off her socks, which elicited a giggle from her and broke the tension for just a moment.  It returned tenfold when she let go of him to fiddle with the fastening of her jeans, and he tried to focus his eyes elsewhere as she popped them open.  Then she was grasping onto him again, and he took that as his cue to reach for the waistband, where it sat low on her hips, and slowly peel the denim down her shaky limbs.  He could feel the tips of his ears growing warm as he revealed the smooth, pale skin, inch by inch, but the large bruise blossoming on the outside of her thigh brought him crashing back down to earth.  “I’mma fuckin’ kill that asshole,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothin’.”  Tearing his attention away from the dark purple-black mark, he stripped her trousers off of her, one leg at a time, reaching up a hand to keep her steady when she was in danger of losing her balance.  He cleared his throat, trying to ignore his close proximity to her bare flesh, and peered up at her from behind the hair that had fallen across his eyes.  “Anythin’ else ya need help with?”

“Oh, no.”  She seemed a little off-kilter herself, her hands trembling as she twisted them together, her cheeks burning a deep red.  “No, I, er- I think I’ve got it from here.  Thank you.”

“I’ll leave yer bag in the room across the hall so ya can get dressed after.”

“God, I don’t even know what’s clean and what’s dirty in there,” she sighed.  “I wasn’t exactly thinkin’ straight when I packed it.  I need to go through it and-”

“It can wait.”  His tone was firm as he cut her off, taking in how tired she looked, how drained.  He was pretty sure the shower would deplete the little energy she had left, and she’d be more than ready to crash again when she was done.  “I’ll find ya somethin’ for now.”  He made to turn away, pausing for a second as her fingers fell to the hem of her sweater, trying not to think about the heart-wrenching injuries underneath.  “Ya need anythin’, just shout.”

“I will.”

*****

When Tabby had finished washing herself, her whole body ached again, yet she felt much better for sluicing away the dried blood and sweat that had clung to her skin and working the worst of the tangles out of her hair.  She wrapped the towel around her and stepped out onto the tiles, making her way out of the bathroom and into the bedroom across the hall.  It was immediately obvious that it was Daryl’s.  A small ottoman stood in one corner, the crossbow he used for hunting leaning up against it.  An assortment of shirts - half, it seemed, with the sleeves torn off - spilled from a rickety chest of drawers, and there was a bottle of cologne perched on the top, almost full, as if it had only been purchased recently.  The bed, a small double, looked like it had been freshly made, and, on top of the covers, she found a long-sleeved plaid shirt and a pair of sweatpants.  Guessing they were for her, she dressed as quickly as she could, grateful that she could slip the shirt on without having to reach up and pull it over her head, combed through her hair with her fingers and padded back out into the living room.

She found Daryl sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, staring into the empty hearth, with his arms looped loosely around his folded knees.  He seemed lost in his thoughts, and she wished she knew exactly where he was in his head, whether she was imposing, if he was still mad that she hadn’t told him about Shane before they’d become whatever they were to each other, but then he glanced up and saw her, watching him, and his scowl morphed into a crooked smile.  “Ya look better for that.”

“I feel better for it,” she agreed, fiddling with the cuffs that dangled over her hands.  “Thank you.  And thanks for the clothes.”

“They’re too big for ya,” he observed, crawling over to her so he could roll up the legs of the pants and stop them from dragging on the ground.  “Gonna break ya neck walkin’ round like that.”

He looked up at her, and she couldn’t resist reaching out to smooth the hair back from his face, revealing the full effect of the gentle affection in his eyes.  “You’re always looking out for me.”

“Someone’s gotta.”  Climbing to his feet, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, cocking his head to one side, and she wondered what it was doing to him to see her in his shirt, his pants, because it was definitely having an effect on her that she was trying to push down.  “Ya sure ya don’t wanna eat?”

She shook her head.  “Not hungry.  Can I… I mean, can we just… hang out for a little while?  Like we would at the cabin?  I just wanna… forget for a bit.”

“Mmhmm.”  He was gnawing on his bottom lip, nodding in understanding.  “Yeah, we can do that.”

She settled herself on the couch, waiting for him to drop down beside her before leaning into him, fidgeting to find a comfortable position that would allow her to curl herself against him without putting too much pressure on any of her breaks and bruises.  When she stilled and relaxed, he let his arm fall around her, thumb stroking over the fabric that covered her hip as he clicked on the TV.  Tabby watched while he flicked through the channels, finally settling on an old black and white western, and she focused her eyes on the screen, but her mind was elsewhere.  Wrapped up in his shirt, with her head on his chest, and the lingering scent of him in the air, she felt like, with every breath she took, she was drawing more of the man beside her into her lungs, and it was a heady sensation, everything about the earthiness of him, the smokey tang, calming, reassuring.  She felt safe, she realised, despite the fact that Shane could appear at the door at any moment, having somehow sensed her contentment and needing to destroy it, to remind her that she belonged to him.  Daryl wouldn’t let him hurt her, she knew that, and it brought a sense of peace that she hadn’t been expecting to feel whilst the wounds were still so fresh.  Still, as she felt the soft brush of Daryl’s lips against the top of her head, she embraced it and settled in, wanting nothing more than to be held by him as she succumbed to her exhaustion once again.

*****

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[pegasusflight77]

One of Those Nights

@ficsandgiggles You deserve a cheer up, so I hope with all my heart this makes you smile. 

Description: You’re struggling with the weight of sadness tonight, but the women who know you and love you are determined to find your smile. 

It was one of those nights. You know you’ve made progress and had just hit some real milestones in life. You just found a new place, graduated, started a new job, and yet...there was this impending sense that either it wouldn’t last or that you’d be stuck on a plateau of mediocracy. Or something of the like. You weren’t totally sure. 

All you knew now is you lay staring at the ceiling for long enough that you weren’t sure when the tears stopped or started. You knew who you wanted around, but you didn’t want to bother any of them. You’d met Natasha, Yelena and Wanda at a small concert a while back, connecting immediately in your passion for the band that changed your life, as well as some other common interests. You and Wanda both loved sharing TV shows with one another and bingeing them together. Nat loved that you could bounce sarcasm off of one another and how you loved to go on little adventures just exploring the world. And you and Yelena loved getting into heated discussions about the other Avengers, Nat’s poser status, and various other comic book and cultural icons. 

And yet when the phone rang with Natasha’s name flashing across the screen, you almost jumped out of your skin. You debated answering for about five rings before you finally decided to, knowing she would bust in with her gun drawn if she thought anything had happened to you. 

“Hey,” You answered flatly, trying to hide any emotion. 

“Aren’t we going to London this evening to explore some sights?” The ex-spy asked, noting but not calling attention to your tone. 

You froze where you stood, “I...don’t know. I didn’t realize that was today.” You stammered for a moment, “I think I’m just tired from work,” you brushed it off. 

Nat hummed, “Why don’t I swing by till you’re too tired to have me round?”

You pondered before saying, “Yeah I guess that would be alright.” 

“Alright, I’ll be there in 30.” She said and promptly hung up. 

You bit your lip, both grateful for the distraction and concerned you’d be a burden. Little did you know the resourceful redheaded had also managed to round up her little sister and favorite witch, hop a bus and appear at your door faster than a takeaway pizza. When you opened your door to find all three of them, you were more than surprised but too overwhelmed to react. 

Wanda stepped in first and hugged you immediately, “Nattie said she was swinging by when we checked in to see her plans for the evening and we missed you-”

“So we tagged along,” Yelena finished, popping in right behind Wanda and tussling your hair as Wanda began to let you go. You realize she’s got a bag in her other hand.

Your mouth stood agape at Nat, whose lips simply turned up ever so slightly at corners as she shrugged and stepped where Wanda just was, hugging you tight. “I figured a girl’s movie night might do you some good and help you sleep for work.” 

You nod, “Thank..you. You guys... are amazing.”

Wanda smiled softly, “Brooklyn 99 for you tonight?” She mused. Your eyes went wide as you nodded, almost smiling. Yelena set all your favorite snacks across the counter, unearthing them from the bag she’d been holding. Nat raised her eyebrow, “You really didn’t smile over B99? And your Rosa? Well that’s going to need some fixing, because with y/n that means your check engine light is on.” She playfully booped your nose before pulling you to her side and plopping on the couch. Wanda sat on your other side and Yelena filled the remaining spot, cuddling in, which ended up shifting you to sit basically in Nat and Wanda’s laps. 

Wanda played with your hair softly, “I like this color in your hair,” she mused, commenting on your latest color change. Nat nodded, “I agree, but her smile needs finding. I think the button is hidden again.” She teased as you tensed, knowing what was coming, “Nono, Nat, it’s fine. I’m fine!” You protest, your voice going up an octave as you tried to keep your cool. 

Her smirk only widened, but it was Yelena who actually made the first move, “Smile button? What is that and where would it be?” She prodded at your belly and ribs, but you couldn’t tell if she knew the game Nat was playing or not as her attempts to examine you seemed semi-genuine within the playful tone. She hit just above your hip before you let out a squeak, and her eyebrows raised in surprise, “I didn’t know she had a squeak button,” the blonde chuckled. 

Nat broke into a devilish grin, “Oh, she has giggle and smile and squeak buttons,” said the redhead as she began wiggling her fingers above you as you shrunk away, doing all you could not to smile or giggle. But Wanda’s red whisp fingers began coming toward you too, and Yelena’s hands joined them. You suddenly had two sets of fingers kneading into your ribs, two magical hands fluttering into your belly, and two strong hands squeezing into your thighs. 

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” You shrieked and fell into a fit of giggles, unable to take this many tickles with a poker face as you tried to wiggle away.

Wanda was the one two smirk now, “Magic word with this little one is just, ‘Tickle,’” she teased, nudging Yelena. 

“Tickle? Why tickle?” Yelena asked as you began squirming. 

“Nohoho stohop sayhing thahat!” You blurt. 

Yelena exchanged mischievous looks with the other two women whose faces also showed nothing but mirth. Nat teased you, tracing and skittering over your ribs only to suddenly drill her thumbs in with just enough pressure to get you arching your back. 

“NAHAHA RIHIHIBS!” You shriek.

“Ha, I got her good!”

Wanda used that opportuning to slip her spidering fingers under your shirt and flutter along your lower belly and waistline, sending you into another octave of laughter. 

“GAHAHAH WAHAHAAHAN!”

Wanda smirked, “Ha, she’s begging me to stop.”

Yelena frowned, “Hey, no fair!” She looked you over before raising an eyebrow and deciding to drive her thumbs right into your hips, which sent you into the highest octave of laughter, “NAHAHA AHAHANYWHEHEHERE BUHUHUT THEHEHERE!” 

The blonde smirked, “Ha, I win.”

Wanda and Nat roll their eyes fondly at Yelena’s victory smile as they all let you go before you went into silent laughter. You can’t stop smiling as you giggle quietly, now you’re practically laying across the three of them. Nat runs her fingers through your hair and Wanda rubs your back, Yelena tracing affectionate shapes on the side of your leg. 

“I think we fixed her smile, and that’s what counts,” Nat smiles down at you fondly and you blush, “Thank you guys...for everything.” 

“I had fun,” Yelena said bluntly with an impish grin. 

Wanda chuckled, “Anytime, little one.” She cooed as she raked her nails soothingly up and down your back. 

And that night, you fell asleep with your smile feeling loved and protected by a sisterhood you’ve only dreamt could be reality. 

#natasha romanoff #bonding #sisterhood #tickling #wanda maximoff #yelena belova

[wandsandwheezes]

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH1

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff.

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London's best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

He was giving you that look. not the look, that look - the one that told you to stop doing what you were doing. It wasn't often that you'd layer it on thick for the press, making sure that you're giggling as you press your hand to his chest. With each flash of a picture you make sure you're striking a different pose. It was hard work being a liar, but it was even harder work without the publicity you gained. 

Your Publicist Cheryl or 'cherry' as she begged you to call her, had devised her own scheming plan to generate not only some amazing press for you, a well established quidditch player, but also some well-needed hype and sales for Fred Weasley's shop. After all, it's not every day that London's best quidditch player was dating Infamous Fred Weasley, Gryffindor Star beater and all-in-all stellar man. The plan had been well and truly in action for just over four months, With Fred the main face of the shared brand with his brother George, it felt like the best option according to Cherry. 

You were leaning into Fred, answering press questions about the latest win, how you were feeling about the upcoming game and, of course the all too regularly asked update on the relationship. You were 'very happy with a man like Fred', he was smiling down at you, gushing sappily "She may be the best Seeker in the game, but my god is she a keeper." The line made you sick to your stomach, When Cherry had pitched it to you both, you were groaning in disgust, but as she pulled the lollipop from her bright red lips with a pop, staring at you with raised eyebrows, you knew it had to be done.

As the interview began to wrap up, you thanked the photographers and journalists, grabbing Fred's hand and interlocking your fingers with a beaming smile, you made sure the cameras could see, after all the last issue of the Daily Prophet branded it as a 'winning smile'. You were escorted away from the press, once out of sight from them, your hand dropped from Fred's grip. "Well done for not making that so not obviously fake." you quipped at him, going to pull your coat on and check your phone for any messages. He laughed, imitating your voice, "Oh, Fred, you're so handsome, won't you just kiss me right now?" You scoffed, throwing your bag over your shoulder. Your phone had three messages when the screen had lit up, your stomach feeling like it had butterflies when you noticed the name. 

>> Do I get to see my beautiful girl later? 

>> I got your favourite for dinner. 

>> I miss your lips already

You felt like the luckiest girl alive in his presence, he made you feel like a princess - a queen even, with every night you spent with him. It all started at Hogwarts for you two, after all, It's not often you get to see the best Slytherin seeker and the Gryffindor star beater together. It really wasn't often because you'd been hiding your relationship for that long. He taught you quidditch skills that got you to where you are today during late, late night practices, often ending with makeout sessions on the grass as you straddled his hips,giggling into the bitter Scottish air. 

You fell in love with George Weasley as a teenager, and for 6 years you had kept your relationship a well-guarded secret. Even through the war, you kissed each other goodbye, praying that it was only a see you later. You knew that one day you would marry the gorgeous man you loved so dearly. You tried to persuade Cherry, who had and still has no clue about your true relationship status, for it to be George you had a public relationship with, but she quickly shut the idea down because George was 'too quiet'. 

<< I miss you so much Georgie… heading back to the shop with fred now

<< btw I'm staying over tonight, I won't suffer another night without kisses :'((

>> Just kisses? ;) 

<< Shut up. 

<< I love you xx

>> I Love you too, babygirl xx

>> Daddy can't wait to see you <3

George stood lazily, arms draped over the balcony as he was smiling down at his phone like a muppet. He was so head over heels with you that he wasn't sure what to do with himself. George wasn't mad that you had to fake date his twin, after all, he'd rather it be Fred than some random quidditch man, or worst of all, Krum. He knew and recognised how important it was to your career plus, what good businessman turns down the opportunity to rake in some sales? It hurt to read the papers sometimes, seeing how much attention you both got together, a part of him wished it was he who got to show you off. 

When you entered the shop, you caught George's eyes immediately, a bashful smile spread across your face, immediately feeling like a schoolgirl again in his presence. Fred sulked off to his office, leaving you to browse the shop until your driver arrived to take you to team practice. You were browsing the upper back wall of products when you felt his stare on you, he was meters away from you and you ached to draw him in for a kiss. You reached out to him, making the grabby hands that he couldn't resist, he checked over his shoulder, seeing nobody, before waking over to you, he pulled you into a quick and needy kiss by your neck, his other hand finding your hip. 

"I'll be home after practice," you mumbled between kisses. It was common for you to travel to his via floo, arriving at the place you truly called home, leaving a vacant and empty flat behind. He shook his head, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. "Too long to wait," he laughed softly, his lips pressing to yours again, you were just about to deepen the kiss when you heard Cherry yell out, "Y/N let's go or you'll be late for practice!" You sighed, leaving your boyfriend behind, fingertips being the last thing to separate as you walked away, leaving him dumbfounded. 

Practicing with your team was always a long, tough grind, your captain worked you hard and she knew it was all for the best, she was due soon to step down from her duty as captain, leaving the team in your hands, so you felt like you were learning double constantly. The warm water running down your skin made you crave George's touch even more, pushing the thought of Fred's hand on your hip out of your mind completely, you simply couldn't wait. 

When you arrived home, George, as promised had your favourite dinner ready for you. He was an amazing chef, using muggle techniques and tools to help create the perfect dishes without the need for magic. You shrugged off your jacket and bag, relaxing into the dining table chair as George brought out your bowl, his hands were massaging your shoulders as you ate, "Aren't you gonna eat, Georgie?" you questioned him, he smirked, "I've been waiting for you to get home so I could have my favourite." George was on his knees, hands reaching up to pull down your leggings, you lifted your hips up, allowing him to drag the material down each of your legs, hooking them over his shoulders, 

You knew exactly what he was doing, your hands found his hair and he tutted, breath fanning over your pussy as he looked up at you. "I made your favourite for you, Princess, You always liked it when we eat together." His tongue darted out to lick over your covered slit, feeling you already wet through your underwear, he hummed in appreciation, his teeth pulling the material to the side before attaching his lips to your clit.

Every time he hummed against you, it made you shake, the task of eating dinner becoming more and more strenuous, as you struggled to swallow down the food while he was pulling such sinful moans from you. George's skilled tongue was fucking your cunt, swallowing everything he could like it was the last meal he'd ever eat, and godric did he think you tasted divine, his thumb came up to circle your clit slowly, bringing you closer and closer to the ege. 

Thing is with George, he doesn't stop till he's got what he wanted. "Finish your dinner, baby," he smirked, a long finger slowly teasing your entrance, "I'm not finished until you are too." he was a determined man, by your second orgasm you could hardly hold up your fork, but nevertheless you soldiered on, managing to swallow the last piece just before number three hit, your legs were shaking and you were moaning incoherent sentences. That was possibly the best meal of your life, your weak legs could hardly hold you up when you tried to stand. 

George pulled you up into his arms, carrying you to the bed where he found your favourite shirt of his, helping you change into it, he left to make you a cup of tea, bringing it into the bedroom for you. sitting contently beside each other.

George's phone buzzed on the side, he read the message from fred. Laughing before showing it to you, the irony all too funny for him to resist. 

>> George, if only you had to do this… Fancy swapping places at the product launch on Saturday? 

<< Love to, but I'm not sure that's how the whole twin thing works. 

>> With an ass like hers, I don't mind it too much… shame, she seems like your type. 

The last text from him made george both laugh and be angry at him sexualising his girl. You laugh, pressing a soft kiss to your boyfriend’s jaw before taking a sip of your tea, "He doesn't know George."

He hums a little bit before typing a reply. 

<< It really is a shame, she does have a nice ass. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes - Men. 

///TO BE CONTINUED///  Chapter Two >>>>>

Taglist // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @weasleysflowr @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @rip-us @witch-and-a-half @sarcasticallywitty15 @pandaxnienke @loony-loopy-lupinn

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred and george #george weasley fic #harry potter #mutuals innit #weasley twins #fred weasley #harry potter fic #fred weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley smut #harry potter smut #harry potter writing #Fake It Fic

[weelittleweasley]

what once was mine (g.w.)

prompt as requested by anon: the breakup between you and george weasley was abrupt and shocking. but after you had healed from it, you started dating an unlikely match, draco malfoy. when george hears of your new partner, he decides to send a letter, not to you, but to draco explaining some things. 

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death, depression, angst

word count: 4.7k

a/n: i literally took this prompt and fucking SPRINTED with it. i’m so sorry i literally RAN WITH IT and i am very very proud of it. an anon told me that they found this request on here from another blog. if anyone knows whos idea this was originally and put it out there, please let me know so i can give them the credit they deserve! 

It was after the war and George was in shambles. Fred, his brother, his twin, his business partner, his best friend, was dead. The image of his dead brother’s body haunted his mind when he closed his eyes. George refused to believe he was gone for good. Two days ago he saw him sitting on the couch of their childhood home, there was no way that he just disappeared like that. It wasn’t fair. The world was playing a cruel joke on him. Was it karma? Was he paying the price for action he didn’t know he committed? Why Fred? 

George just stood in what once was their shared flat in the kitchen, leaning over the kitchen island, head in his hands. Pain and sadness possessed his chest as he tried to not cry for surely the hundredth time that day. Crying wasn’t helping him; it was just making him more sad. George sat up and took a look around their flat, Fred’s things still untouched from the last time he was in the flat. George was afraid to move it, thinking that Fred put those things in those places for a reason and if George touched them or moved them, it would disrupt something. He wished he could freeze time and look at the apartment as it was in this moment, Fred and his thing’s in the apartment, sprawled about the couch and table. A picture of Fred and George in front of the joke shoppe when it first opened, both hugging each other and smiling. All of their dreams came true that day. If he only knew it would be stripped from them a few years later. What a cruel, cruel world. 

His thoughts were interrupted when there were three light knocks on the door. “Georgie? It’s me...please let me in,” your sweet voice called from outside. George’s heart leaped at the sound of your voice and his eyes filled with tears. He knew what he had to do, but he didn’t want to do it. He didn’t have the strength to do it. 

With a sigh, he walked to the door and opened it up to reveal you there, eyes soft when they looked at George. Your heart broke at the sight of George. He was destroyed. “Darling,” you whisper as you look at him. George just gives you a sad smile before motioning for you to come in. 

As George closed the door, you notice that the apartment hadn’t changed one bit since he left it last. You sigh, knowing George too well. “I’m going to move back home for a while to live with Mum and Dad and my siblings for a while. We all need each other right now,” George rubs his face as your heart shatters. You knew how much having his own place, running the joke shoppe, and living the life he planned meant to him. Now since his world has shattered, his dreams had to be paused. 

“Of course,” you shake your head, understanding completely. “And you know you can stay with me if you want as well. My door is always open for you, George.” George’s heart breaks at your words as he gulps, trying to force his tears away. “I want you to take care of yourself...I love you, George. I always have and I always will.”

George takes a deep breath in and closes his eyes, rubbing his face before running his hands through his hair. “(Y/N), we should talk about all of this,” George tries to start. There was no easy way to word this. There was no easy way to do this. There was no way that George could do this and keep you in his life. It was one or the other. 

When George says this, your heart immediately sinks. Those words strung together only meant one thing and you weren’t ready for that. Even though George was going through the unimaginable, you were also suffering. You lost family and friends of your own and George was the only stable thing in your life right now. It was selfish, but right now, you need George to help you through this and you knew he needed you too. This was all true. “George, please, don’t,” you speak, voice cracking, tears filling your eyes.

The sight of you made George feel weak. He turned away to not look at his love crying. This all was so painful. “We need to break up. We both need to take time for ourselves. To heal,” George tries to rationalize with you. You let a sob escape your lips as you cover your mouth to muffle them. George sneaks a look at you and he instantly hates what he said. Your eyes were flooded with tears as they spilled over and streamed down your cheeks. “I am damaged goods right now. I can’t let that effect you.”

“I want to be there for you,” you whisper to George. “I want to help you through this. I want to be someone that you can rely on like you have all these years. Why are you letting me go now when we need each other most?” you grab his hands, holding them close to your heart. George steps closer to you, pressing his body into yours and you cry into his chest. He wraps his arms around you tightly, as if to not let you go when that’s exactly what he was doing. 

George sniffles, “Because I don’t want you to see me enter a dark place. I know it’s bound to happen. But I don’t want you to see me like that. I’m scared that once you do, that’s all you’ll see me as.”

You look up at the tall man. He had grown up before your eyes. George always had a childlike mysticism and a young heart. But this war made him realize that he wasn’t invincible. He wasn’t a student at Hogwarts like he was years prior. George was a man. “I will never think of you like that. I will always think of you as the love of my life,” you tell him as you brush away George’s tears, him leaning into your touch. “But I understand if you need time. If that’s what you need, I respect your wishes.”

The two of you had let each other go and that was the icing on the cake. You didn’t hold back anymore. You let the sob rake through your body, shaking you as George held onto you tightly, crying silently as the two of you held onto each other for dear life. Your face was hot with tears and your stomach felt this sick. This was never your plan. You had such big plans. George had promised marriage months ago after the war was over. He had promised to whisk you away from your normal life and give you a life you had dreamed of. George wanted to take you around the world, showing you the beauty of it. But those plans were now empty promises. Hollow shells of what could have been. 

George looks at you, pulling your face in his hands. “We will be alright. I promise you,” he speaks passionately. “If we can survive a war, we can survive this.” You breathe in jagged breaths. “You are going to live a life that is much better than I could have ever given you.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” you sob.

George shakes his head, “I want you to find someone who can give you the world. I have no doubt that you will find that person and live a very happy life.”

Pushing his hands away from your face lightly, you speak, “No matter who I find, I will never love them like I love you.” George’s heart breaks. “I will never love or care for someone as fiercely as I do for you, George Weasley. That will never change. I will never stop loving you.”

“And I will never stop loving you,” George repeats, pressing your foreheads together. “You will always be mine.”

“And you will always be mine,” you promise him.

-----------

A year had past and much had changed.

You had a job now as a Healer, taking care of the sick and hurt. Your job let you help people like you’ve always wanted. It was stressful, but the amount of joy it brought you was immeasurable. Your job allowed you to live comfortably in a new flat in the heart of London, overlooking the busy city. 

The biggest change was who came into your life. After you and George’s split, you spent a lot of your time as a single woman, six months, focusing on your career and personal goals. You worked hard and most times, worked to distract yourself from the fact that you missed George Weasley something fierce. But as you distracted yourself, you didn’t expect to meet someone new. Rather, re-meet someone.

Seeing Draco Malfoy again was like meeting a whole new person. Draco had turned over a new leaf completely. He was kinder and more gentle. He claimed to have seen the error of his ways when he was a teenager in Hogwarts and had sworn to be a better person after the war when he saw how much hurt and pain his family had put others in. Draco now worked as a Healer like you did at St. Mungo’s. 

What you didn’t expect most of all was to fall in love with Draco. It took you both a while to say something to the other in fear that the other person felt differently. But after a long shift at work and a glass of wine, you both had confessed your feelings to the other. From that moment on, you and Draco’s relationship progressed quickly. Within weeks, you and Draco lived in a new flat, bigger and better than your last in a beautiful part of London. Draco spoiled you tremendously with material things and beautiful vacations. When you had told Draco your dream was to travel the world, he had booked flights everywhere. Throughout Europe to America to Asia, everywhere, you just say the word. Life felt like a dream. Draco gave you everything that you could ever ask for; love, stability, and happiness. 

You loved Draco immensely; it hurt your heart how you loved him. However, there was still a piece of your heart that belonged to that red headed boy. You thought of George Weasley often. How was he? Was he better? Is he happy now? Did he find someone new? Did he make them happy? Did they make him happy? But before you got sentimental, you often cast those thoughts from your mind. 

After another six months of dating Draco, you found yourself wearing a large diamond ring on your left ring finger. You were engaged. Draco had done it when you were in Paris on vacation. You told him you didn’t want a huge romantic gesture, but that still didn’t stop Draco. You were on a park in a small park, but down the path, there were small lights in trees, a small speaker that played your favorite song, and rose petals everywhere that spelt out, Marry Me. You said yes before Draco could even say anything, jumping on him, covering his face in kisses. You were getting married to your love. 

The news of your engagement spread very quickly. You wanted everyone to know that you were happy and in love with Draco. Not to mention, you wanted to get married right away. There was no time to waste. Why wait if you were so certain that you both loved each other and wanted to spend eternity together?

Draco laughed as you happily wrote and send out save the dates to your family and friends. “Darling,” he chuckled. “We’ve been engaged for two weeks! You’re sending out invitations already?” 

He sat next to you on the couch, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “It’s not an invitation, just a save the date,” you roll your eyes. “Invitations are being send out in another week,” you speak, making Draco laugh. “I just don’t want to waste time. I want to get our lives started as husband and wife as soon as possible.”

“That sounds perfect to me,” he smiles as you kiss his lips gently. 

You continue to seal envelopes and send out save the dates to everyone. And by everyone, you meant everyone.

--------

Molly Weasley stood in the kitchen, cooking an early dinner for her family as the rest of the Weasley family was scattered throughout the house. Ron and Ginny argued over quidditch as they usually did on nights like this, Harry laughing as he watched his best friend and new wife arguing over the beloved sport. Hermione helped Molly cut vegetables in the kitchen while George and Arthur fixed a leak in the sink upstairs. 

Sounds of cacophony filled the house, but halted when an owl flew through the window, dropping an envelope in Molly Weasley’s house. “What’s that?” Ron asked. 

“Dunno,” said Molly. “It’s addressed to all of us.” She shows her family the ivory envelope that has Weasley Family written in cursive. Molly opens up the message and starts to read it out to herself. “Oh my stars!”

Hermione looks over Molly’s shoulder and reads the letter and gasps, “She’s getting married!” Hermione giggles as she looks to Molly who beams.

“Hello? Who is getting married? Would you mind sharing?” Ron asks, not liking being left out of the merriment. Molly hands him the invitation as Ron reads it out to the rest of the group. “Dear Weasley Family and Potter,” Ron laughs as Harry rolls his eyes. “Please save the date. On the fourteenth of May at 6pm sharp, join us for the wedding of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Draco Malfoy.” Everyone’s eyes widen when Ron finished reading. “Bloody hell.”

Ginny looks to Harry, “I didn’t that their relationship was that serious.” Harry shrugs, not knowing the answer either. When Draco told Harry that you two were seeing other, he didn’t think much of it. No reflection on either of you, but Harry assumed that you would always find your way back to George.

Ron scoffs, “You didn’t think it was that serious? I didn’t know they were together!” Hermione rolls her eyes. “You knew?! You didn’t tell me!”

Hermione defends herself, “What do you mean? We had them over for dinner a few months ago! What did you think they were? Just friends living together?”

Ron rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, knowing that he was in the wrong. “Well, that’s beside the point. I’m glad they’re happy. They deserve it after everything they have been though.”

“Agreed. A wedding! How exciting!” Hermione gushes as Molly smiles beside her.

“Whose getting married?” George’s voice calls out as he walks down the stairs, Arthur not far behind. 

Everyone freezes when they see George, not knowing who should break the news that the girl he was in love with months ago was getting married. Ron immediately leaves the room, not wanting anything to do with the situation, Harry following suit. Molly, Ginny, and Hermione all look at each other, silently deciding who should tell him. “Um,” Ginny starts. “We received a letter. That, um, Draco Malfoy is getting married.”

George nods his head, “That’s good news. I hope the bloke is well. Who is the poor gal getting married to him?”

Ginny gulps and looks to her mother to do the hard part. Molly sighs and looks at her son. “Draco is marrying (Y/N), George. They’re getting married on the 14th of May,” Molly hands him the invitation that rests on the coffee table.

George’s heart sinks to his stomach and his face goes pale. There was no way that this was happening. Sure, you two had broken up a while back, but that didn’t mean that George was over you. George missed you with every passing moment, his heart yearning for you, your gaze, your touch. He read the invite feverishly, running his fingers over what was clearly your penmanship. “May 14th? That’s in two weeks,” he looks to his mother who looks at him sadly. George looks back at the invite. “And she invited all of us? She invited me?” 

Everyone just looks at each other, not knowing what to say. Ginny sighs, “I’m so sorry, Georgie.”

He nods his head, “Yeah, me too. Excuse me.” George drops the invitation and walks up the stairs to his room. It was at times like this where he wished Fred was here to comfort him. Fred would know exactly what to say or what to do. But Fred wasn’t here. 

George laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how you could fall in love so fast and get married in the blink of an eye. You and George were together for four years. You and Draco were together for six months. He didn’t know you like George did. He didn’t know you to the extent that George did. George knew everything about you; what you loved, what you hated, what made you tick, what kept you up at night. And that’s when it hit him.

George sprung from his bed and to his desk, grabbing a piece of parchment and his quill and began.

----------

Draco sat next to you in bed as you read quietly to yourselves when there was a tap at the window in the next room. “I’ll get it, love,” Draco said, rising from the bed. You smiled at your fiancee as he left the room to check on what was going on.

In the living room, an owl perched on the window sill with a letter in his mouth. “Thank you,” Draco smiled at the owl as it shook its head before flying away. Draco looks at the letter and sees his name on the red envelope. Draco slowly opened the envelope to see a folded up piece of parchment. As he unfolded it, he began to read the contents of the letter.

Malfoy,

First off, I would like to offer my congratulations to you on your engagement to (Y/N). I can only imagine that you two are scrambling to get the wedding ready for the next week. But enjoy it, cause you only have one wedding day.

I know that my timing is off, but I decided I better do it now rather than never do it at all. It’s odd, I know, but this will not only help me get her out of my mind, but help you when you need it most. 

(Y/N) is the most special woman in the world. I’m sure you know that, but in case you forgot, I’m here to remind you that you have the best woman who will soon be your wife. Something I dreamed of doing one day. 

That being said, your time with her has been short in comparison to the times that we shared and here are some things that I have learned about her that I thought I should share. 

When she is upset, give her space. She needs time to breathe and be with her thoughts before she tells you about them. Just give her time and space and she’ll eventually come around to you and ask you for your company. When she does, make sure you have a hot cup of tea ready and a blanket. She likes to cuddle and needs something warm. Listen to what she says and promise that you’ll be there for her. After you two talk, she’ll probably ask to watch a movie of some kind. Put on a romantic movie. She’ll tell you she doesn’t like them, but she does. She has a couple of favorites, too.

When she is angry, let her take it out. If she keeps in all bundled in, she’ll explode one day without knowing it. Tell her it’s okay to scream or yell or punch a pillow. She’ll calm down after a few minutes and take a nap. Make sure you put socks on her feet because they usually get cold.

(Y/N) doesn’t like it when she’s alone, so if you are leaving for a trip, make sure she has a companion that can check up on her or hang out with her. If you’re gone on a trip, bring her back one of those cheap keychains. She collects them. She’ll like it. Especially if it has her name on it, too.

(Y/N) loves black tea and green tea. She takes the black with milk and honey and the green tea plain. Don’t let her drink more than two cups of coffee a day or else she gets too wired. Her favorite flavour of ice cream is mint chocolate chip, but she won’t reject any flavour. 

If you go to the beach, stay until sundown. She likes to watch the sunset fade into the horizon and wrap herself in the blanket. It’s a tradition she and her father used to do when she was a child. She loves the beach, but hates the sand. Strange, I know, but I always thought it was charming.

She usually forget to put a new roll of toilet paper on the hanger when the other is finished, so be mindful of that. It’ll drive you mad after a few months, but you’ll get used to it. And she also has a favorite brand of body wash. It smells of rose and vanilla and you can only get it at one shoppe in the city. I forget the brand name, but it comes in purple packaging. Buy her that, she runs out of it often.

Dance with her. Please. She always complained that I never slow danced with her enough. I was always too silly for her. But she loves to slow dance. Put on the radio and dance with her. It doesn’t matter where you are. But dance with her. I don’t care who is watching. Neither does she. Just dance with her and make her feel like you are the only one watching her. 

I should have told her that I loved her more. I told her every day, but even that wasn’t enough. Tell her every moment that you can, even if it annoys her. Make her feel loved. Let her know she is loved. Because, Godric, she deserves to be loved. She is brilliant. She is the moon, the star, and the whole damned sky. And you better love her better than I have ever loved her. Or else she’ll slip through your fingertips and you won’t even notice until she’s gone.

I don’t want to lie and say that I am happy about your engagement, but I will be happy if she’s happy. Please treat her the way she deserves to be treated. Love her with every fiber, every cell within you. And, for the love of Godric, don’t let her go like I did.

I don’t know if I’ll be in attendance to the wedding, but if I don’t show up, tell her that she looks beautiful for me. I know she will. Even if I am there, tell her is beautiful. Tell her she is beautiful each time someone else says it. It’s her special day. 

Best of luck to the both of you. I wish you every happiness together and I hope you live long lives together. Take care of the girl who used to be mine. 

Warmly,

George Weasley

As Draco finishes reading the letter, he isn’t angry. He isn’t sad. He is happy to know that there is someone else out there who wants the absolute best for his future wife. Draco smiles at the letter and sighs, “Thank you, George. I’ll do my best.” Draco then folds the letter and tucks it away in his pocket. Draco thinks to himself about how hard it must have been for George when he heard the news of Draco and (Y/N)’s engagement, but he dismisses the thought after realizing that (Y/N) was probably wondering where he was.

Draco walks back into the bedroom and you look at your future husband with a smile. “Was it an owl?” you ask as Draco nods. “From who?”

Draco smiles, “An old friend. Wishing us lots of love and luck in our marriage.”

“How kind,” you beam. “Are they coming to the wedding?”

“I don’t know,” Draco shrugs, genuinely not knowing the answer. You furrow your brows, confused at the answer given. “It’s not important though, darling. I’ve taken care of it.” 

You nod your head gently and close your book as you watch Draco change for bed. He takes off his pants shirt before walking into the bathroom, closing the door behind him as you hear the shower run. 

Impulsively, you spring to your feet and grab Draco’s pants, digging into the contents of his pockets, knowing your fiancee well enough to know that he stuffed the letter in there. In his right pocket, there is parchment and you pull it out, feverishly pulling out the letter and opening it up. 

You scan the paper and you feel your heart sink as you recognize the writing. “George,” you whisper as tears fill your eyes. You read his words and your mind reels and goes fuzzy. It was obvious that George still loved you after all this time. It was evident in your words. Every word written with care and love that radiated into your soul. “My George,” you whisper as a tear rolls down your cheek as you stroke the paper. 

The sound of the shower stops and you shove the letter back into Draco’s pants, springing back into the bed, and wiping away your tears as if nothing happened. Draco emerges with fresh pajamas and wet hair. “Bedtime?” Draco asks with a soft smile. You nod gently as Draco climbs into bed with you. “I love you, darling. So much. I can’t wait to be yours and you to be mine forever.”

“I love you, too, Draco.”

Draco smiles and turns off the light, wrapping his arm around your waist as you sit in bed, thinking of George’s words on that parchment. He still loved you. You were engaged to another. Your heart loved Draco. But your heart belonged to George. Was that possible? It had to be, this feeling in your chest when you thought of George just confirmed it.

You think of that last night with George when you broke up, crying in his arms. His words haunting you, “I will never stop loving you. You will always be mine.” How his words rang true. You did belong to him. If only things were different. You could run to George and tell him you still loved him. That the life you once had you wanted back. How you were still his and always would be until death do you both part. 

But the thought of leaving Draco made your stomach churn and your heart ache. Draco found you and picked you up when you were low and showed you a second chance at love. He gave you everything you wanted. Love, a home, stability, kindness, and strength. Draco was your everything. Your sun and moon. And you knew it rang true for him. The ring on your finger proved it.

With a sigh, you close your eyes and tune out your thoughts. What was in the past was in the past. It was over. It was time for something new and that something new was Draco. Even though you loved Draco, a piece of you would be attached to George. And that would be enough.

On the other hand, George laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if Draco even read his letter. If he showed it to you. Or if he kept it a secret. What was happening in London? All questions George would never get the answer to. Sighing, George spoke to himself, “It’s over, George. It’s done. The battle has been fought and you lost. Time to move on.”

And so you both did. 

#george weasley imagine #george weasley #Fred and George #george weasley x #george weasley x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x reader imagine #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut #george imagine #george weasley angst

[haechanokeh]

I’m right for you [pt. 3]

[teaser] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ]

(you can play Die For You by The Weeknd while reading this 😌)

pairing: popular college! mark x average! reader

genre: romance, smut, angst, series.

warning: corruption, oral sex (both receiving and giving), cream pie, rough sex, mention of religion, rough sex, self-esteem, psychology, public sex, sub! reader, sex toys. possessive mark two-faced mark

I think I’m right for you, babe. You know what I’m thinking, see it in your eyes. You hate that you want me, hate it when you cry. It ain’t workin’ ‘cause you’re perfect and I know that you’re worth it I can’t walk away. (Die for you by The Weeknd)

today is you case presentation with mark. you were deeply affected of what happened in the cubicle but mark seemed unbothered because he was greeting you as usual. it wasn’t weird, he always greets everyone but what was really weird was your classmates. they were looking at you and it made you felt conscious, they were not saying anything but sometimes you catch them glancing at you but you brushed it off and focus on your brainstorming with mark.

yes you do dislike mark but you thank god that he's your partner. he never missed a question from your professor during case study on the other hand you're just standing beside him dumbly. you only understand the question AND the answer once mark responded. well, mark a very kind person he was, despite of answering it alone he made sure that you're included in the case saying base in y/n and my research, even lied that some are from my own research but of course not. plus, for some odd reason, your classmates' eyes were literally made you uncomfortable to the point you were having a hard time to breathe or your social anxiety attacking you. however, at the very moment, you want to give mark a tight hug for making your life easy.

the whole presentation ended. you were putting your things back to your back while standing while mark scrolling in his phone because his dad texted him asking if he could buy him some new pen. you gasped when an arm was on your shoulder, and that caught mark's attention but he hid his annoyance. 

"hey, y/n, i heard you like someone ha?" his brows were playfully raising. it was lucas, he gave mark a meaningful glance but mark smiled confusingly.

"what?" you didn't have any idea what he's telling you. 

"i heard someone saw-"

"mark!" mina suddenly appeared calling mark's name a little too loud which made lucas stop from talking. "we're going to a milk tea house, do you want to come with us?"

“y/n, come with us.” lucas pulled you closer to his body. mark was taring at lucas arm around your shoulder. you weren’t aware of mark’s expression because your mind was thinking ways to breakthrough from lucas. 

“no!” mina exclaimed. he caught everyone’s attention, and she became flustered. “i mean, we will only make her feel uncomfortable and lucas please remove your arms to y/n, she doesn’t look comfortable.” she mumbled. lucas did remove his arms from you. 

“milk tea? can we also come with you?” then the people started to surround mark. it became noisy, knowing you who’s allergic to people and noise sneaked out from the circle and left the room.

mark turned his head to look at you but you’re nowhere to be found. he sighed and forced himself to interact with his classmates.

your mother texted you that he will be away for one week because of their excursion. she left you an allowance good for one week including your meals for the whole day and transportation. you already had your dinner outside. right now you were just laying down on your favorite long sofa in your living room, watching NCT 2020 funny moments. suddenly, mark's name popped. mark is your class representative, he has access to class contacts and it wasn't that mark called you because you're always late in the class so for almost past 3 years he's the one you always contact just to inform the class that you're just late. 

wait, did i miss an announcement? you quickly left the class maybe something came up.

"hello, was there an announcement?" you directly asked

"none, just checking you. we haven't had a proper conversation awhile ago unless it's case related." 

you heart melted, he's very kind and sweet... that scares you.

"ah okay." you simply answered. it wasn't because you want to talk to him, well you really don't want to talk to him but it wasn't that he's annoying or anything- it was just you hate phone calls. you hate talking with someone in general unless it's your mom. 

"well, have you eaten yet?" he tried to save the conversation, he wanted to hear your voice longer.

"yes." it was a one-word reply. 

mark was slightly shattered because you don't seem to want to talk to him. he just thought that maybe you were tired.

"okay, goodnight."

"yeah." then you hang up. 

you returned watching youtube until you drifted into your dreamland... no it wasn't your dreamland.

you gasped and sat up as you woke from another perverted dream with mark. your chest was rising aggressively and you look down as you felt the wetness between your thighs. you raked your hands over your hair as you felt frustration and guilt. this was your second time that you dreamt of mark doing erotic things. you looked at the digital clock it was already 2 am. you groaned and stood up, you want to wash your body because the stickiness just made you feel more guilty if it stays there longer.

you entered your room and stripped, walking directly into your bathroom. you opened a warm shower and as the water trickled on your body, hands unconsciously trailing to the south. your dream was so hot, you can't lie about that. it was in the same cubicle but instead of his digits, it was his dick inside you. 

your eyes closed as you rubbed your bead slow while recalling your dream. you squeezed your left breast and imagining it was mark's squeezing it. you want something to fill your womanhood so you inserted your two fingers and thrust it. your lungs felt like being suppressed by pressure, your thrust became furious. 

"oh my- mark fuck." you moaned his name and you have never been so ashamed. it was so wrong but the feeling was so good that you weren't able to stop yourself from moaning. you felt the tension in your thighs. you knelt down and the hand that squeezing your breast was now on your clit rubbing it furiously. 

"mark! fuck right there." you felt the tension in your abdomen and your legs started to shake. your body just gave in, bending down, cheek shoved against the wet tiles while the warm water splashed on your body.

you screamed erotically, eyes rolling and lashes flickering. your legs were shaking as you reached your high.

 mark hasn't slept yet, it's okay for him because there are no classes. he was staring at the ceiling and mind preoccupied by you.

he was trying to understand why do you keep pushing him away even though you clearly wanted him too. mark did remember where you say he's very different from you, and so? what's wrong with it? what he didn't like is the thought of changing just for a single person but...

"shall i?" he chuckled bitterly. he was really close to his insanity. he feared that this affection will grow into something that is uncontrollable- like an obsession.  

he checked the time through his phone. it's 5 in the morning. he decided to jog outside, so, he took a quick shower and wore his tracksuit and running shoes. maybe if tiredness hits him, he will feel sleepy. mark already went to your house and he didn't tell you that his house is just a few blocks away from you, instead of going to his normal route, he changed it, jogging in your house direction.

when he was closed to your street, he was surprised to see you outside. he stood and admire your naturalness from afar. your hair was disheveled, your eyes weren't completely closed yet, and your face was a little puffy but it doesn't take away your beauty. plus, your cute teddy bear pajamas made him smile. he sends his gratitude to god because he created a masterpiece. 

yeah, mark is deeply in love and he thinks there's no way out of this feeling. 

you were actually waiting for your breakfast, your pancakes from mcdonalds and a warm chocolate drink. when the delivery arrived, you paid and gave him a tip for being quick. you were about to go back inside when you heard a VERY familiar voice which was owned by the person who sleep deprived you 

"Y/N!" his voice was loud, it even cracked. 

"what are you doing here?" you asked.

"morning jog, and good morning to you." he replied and greeted at the same time.

"jog.." you paused and gasped. "from your condo to here?!" you exclaimed in disbelief. mark laughed at your reaction. of course it'll shock you because you already been in his condo and if he jogged it from there to here, he was supposed to be passing out right now.

"no, my family house is actually a few blocks away from here."  he said.

WHAT?! this is not good. you thought. the more he gets closer the more he has access to your mind and body. you masked your displeased face and just nodded.

"okay, ahm. i'm heading back now. bye." you pointed at your house door and awkwardly turned your back walking towards your door.

you expected him to do something because he always do that but to your disappointment he didn't. you looked back to check if he was stil there but he was no longer standing there but you saw him jogging away from your direction. you sighed in disappoinment that made you mentally slap yourself for feeling very contradicting .

you ate miserably your affordable and favorite pancake.

mark took a bathe and go down to eat breakfast together with his parents. they prayed before eating. the cooked food by his mom made him question why your ordered delivery food for breakfast.

"how's school?" mark's dad asked him.

"good, still the same." he replied.

"your father will lead a service, you can invite your classmates. oh mina, you can invite her, she's very sweet girl." his mom said but she doesn't have any motive. she knew mark have not interest in romantic relationship as of the moment, her child was so focus in maintaining his grades and scholarship. at least, that's what he though.. if she only knew.

"i'll try." he forced a smile but behind it was growing tiredness. he knew that his classmates doesn't really want to praise but because they were so fond of mark and they just love to hang out. it defeated the purpose of going to church.

after the breakfast, mark's parent left for their work. he washed the dishes and went up stairs and stayed in his room with his music and guitar. it helped to detach his mind from thinking of you, but it was just temporary as he saw you name appeared in his phone. he almost threw his guitar just to answer your call very quick.

"y/n? why?" he sound so excited.

"ahm, mark... well.. perhaps, do you ahm, have notes from yesterdays discussion? i mean in all cases, not just ours?" you were very stuttering because of shyness. your class have long test about the cases but you're notes are everywhere and you can't understand your writings.

"yes." he said. he knew where this is going. he quickly get out from his bed and go straight to his closet, choosing shirt to wear. "do you need it? i can bring it to you."

"no, no. ahm, you do digital notes right? mind if you could send it through gdrive?" you really don't want to bother him... nah lies. you're just preventing things from happening.

mark paused for a moment and was a little hurt, he understood your statement as if you don't want to see him. but mark will not having any of that.

"it was handwritten though." he faked sorry. he hoped you didn't notice what he did there, hoping that you received it as if it was literally handwritten like directly to paper since he sounded apologetic.

"oh... i see. well, ahm, can you drop by in the house?"

mark still not satisfied by just dropping by.

"how about we study together? we can review together."

you translated it like 'the smartest in your class can help you'and that's very tempting. you can't easily study 8 cases and you need him. you used his diuretics notes in lecture, you almost aced it. now, your lab needs him.

"then, pizza is okay for you?" you whisoered from the other end.

mark secretly fist pump and grinned in triumph.

"yes."

you spayed air freshener in your living room and changed your shirt to another shirt? you only have tees just in different colors, you changed your short into black sweatpants. you made sure that your hair was far different from the hair he saw this morning. you already ordered the pizza.

the doorbell rang. your quickly opened the door for him. mark was standing, carrying his ipad and his other hand holding a two milk teas in a cup holder. he's wearing dark blue t-shirt and gray sweatpants. you smiled awkwardly and let him in. you scanned his body, looking for paper or at least a piece of paper but you didn't see any of it. mark was looking down at you, watching you observing him.

"where's your notes?" you curiously asked.

"here." he lifted his ipad. your jaw dropped.

"i thought you did not do digital notes?"

"i don't recalling telling you i didn't, i just said it was handwritten and when i saif that handwritten in my ipad." he reasoned. taht made you think later realizing that he was right and that made you dumb.

you sighed in defeat.

"by the way, bought you milk tea since you missed it yesterday." he said, you acually don't care if you missed it or not.

you walked towards the single couch and patted it.

"you can seat here." you said.

he quickly sat down and put the milk teas on top of your living room's table. he confusingly watched you when you sat on the long couch and it was the end of it. you were too far from him.

you noticed his sulking face.

"mr. mark lee, what's with your long face?" you chuckled teasingly.

"why are you too far from me?" he pouted.

"damage control." you replied shortly and get your case 3 notes which is very illegible to read. "can i borrow your case 3?"

"why? what did i do?" mark asked was clueless. he did not pay attention to your question

"mark, being alone with you is not healthy anymore." you directly answered him.

"orgasm is healthy, what do you mean?" mark didn't get your.

"mark, that's not what i mean. we're like horny teenagers doing unappropriate things."

"we're already passed in that phase in life, we're both adults." he rebutted.

you mentally face palmed yourself in frustration. why is he so smart and dumb at the same time.

"mark, that's not why i mean. we're being to touchy, every time we are left alone the next thing we knew we're touching each other. do you know how scary was that to me? it only happened twice but i am already longing for more! when i don't feel your touches i go craaazy! i even touched myself for freaking 2-" you froze when you realize what you were telling him you stared blankly at him.

on the other hand, mark was very pleased hearing you exploded from frustration as you became honest for the first time.

"you touched yourself? what 2?" he smirked and lifted his brows.

you cleared your throat.

"can i borrow your ipad? i need your case 3." you murmured and look anywhere but him your face heat up. you want to be swallowed by your favorite sofa.

"then get it."

you look at his ipad sitting on his manly wide spread apart thighs. your eyes stared at the mark that makes your knees weak and wet pussy. his fiery eyes looking directly toyou while he was sitting comfortably on the couch and arms are both in each side of the armrest.

"mark lee, i need it." you tried to use your stern voice but failed because your voice was too small.

"i told you, you can get it.. here." he glanced at his ipad.

you gulped and the living room's air became thick. your submissive self switched on and you just found yourself walking towards him. your hands felt cold as you reached for his ipad. when you lifted it, his bulge forming in his gray sweatpants made you almost drool. you were reminded how fucking hot it was.

you want to touch it and do anything you can possibly could but your single rational braincells keeping you in the light.

"you don't seem sure of what you really wanted to do." he snapped you from overthinking. "should i make you choices?"

"what?" you asked confusingly but your voice was shaking.

"you bring that ipad with you and go back to where you were sitting, or..." he looked up to you with his dark eyes, leaning a little forward you trace the side of your hips with his palm..

"put the ipad on the table and sit in my lap."

mark knew that you can never say no at this state. if you could only see how your body shivered and how defeated your face was, he knew you already gave in.

and his was right.

the original draft was deleted because of my stupidity 😭 idk think this is good as the original draft.

hello, some of you asked me if i have a tag list, i will be creating one.

✨if you want to be added in I'm Right For You Tag List, you can DM or Ask me so i can add you ✨

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Tag List:

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anyways, i would like to say thank you for supporting this story. i did not expect some of you will like it. i also want to thanks people who leaving message through dms and ask praising this story. also to those nctzens hearting it 🥺🤗

#mark lee #nct mark #mark lee smut #mark lee fanfic #mark lee nct #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark #nct 127 #mark lee angst #nct #mark lee imagine #nct dream #nct 127 smut #mark lee scenario #mark smut

[thatfanficstuff]

Timbre - Steve Rogers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Nope. Just fluff

A/N: Celebration Summer #21. Prompt was Person A has a thing for Person B's voice.

***

You weren’t certain when your obsession started. Probably somewhere around when you first met the man, but you’d never admit it. Not that you’d admit it to anyone period. It was a little odd, if you were honest, being in love with someone’s voice. Noting all the nuances of it and what they meant. But it had happened almost without you realizing it.

***

“Cap, this is our new recruit. Fury seems to think she’ll give you a run for your money,” Tony Stark said by way of introduction to the blond super soldier.

Steve flashed a wide smile and offered you hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to seeing what you can do.”

You shook his hand and stifled the urge to gasp at the shiver that climbed your spine from only his voice. It was just his natural tone, his natural timbre. He’d done nothing to change or enhance it so it shouldn’t have affected you as it did. But that night you dreamed about that voice saying all manner of things.

***

“Come on,” Steve encouraged as you ran through the training course. “You’re doing fantastic. Your numbers look great.”

His normal voice was now enhanced with a bit of happiness and satisfaction. He was pushing you to do better. Praising you for your improvement. And truth be told there wasn’t a whole lot you wouldn’t do to hear that voice.

***

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Stay with me,” Steve’s voice broke through the fog in your brain. You’d been caught in an explosion on your way out of a Hydra facility and were thrown several feet. Your head bounced off the ground when you landed.

A hand lightly tapped your cheek and you struggled to open your eyes, failing miserably.

“Come on, I need you to wake up so I know you’re alright.” His voice shook slightly and was heavy with worry. The concern in it made a path straight to your heart and settled there.

You still couldn’t open your eyes but you managed to say his name before you passed out again.

***

When you woke, you found Steve sitting beside your bed. His elbows were braced on his knees and his hands were clasped together in front of his mouth. His gaze was focused on the floor beneath his feet. You wondered how long he’d been in that chair. “Hey,” you said, your voice rough due to your dry throat.

His head jerked up and his worried gaze took you in before it softened in relief. He grabbed a cup from the table beside you and held the straw so you could drink. “Better?”

You nodded.

“Feeling okay?” he asked a moment later.

You did a mental inventory. “Not bad, actually.”

He nodded. “Good.” He licked his lips before pushing himself to his feet. “Because I would like to know just what the hell you were thinking,” he all but growled.

Your brow lifted at the anger in his voice. You’d never heard him angry before. Annoyed yes, angry no. When you didn’t respond, he raked a hand through his hair. “You were a good three minutes late leaving that building. Another thirty seconds and you wouldn’t be here. Is it really that difficult for you to obey orders?”

Was it wrong that Steve’s angry voice was the sexiest one yet? Damn. What was wrong with you? You definitely had issues.

“Are you going to say anything?” he finally asked in exasperation.

You took another drink to soothe your dry throat. “What do you want me to say? I wasn’t intentionally dragging my heels. People kept trying to shoot me.”

His brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you call for backup?”

“Because people were supposed to be leaving the building so they didn’t get blown up. Did you miss that part?” you deadpanned.

Steve literally facepalmed before dropping back into his chair.

***

“I love you.”

Your eyes jerked up to meet Steve’s gaze. The two of you were sitting at your little table having breakfast together. You swallowed. “Would you repeat that?”

A smile curved his lips as he leaned forward. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before pulling back to watch you. “I love you.” His tone was soft, sweet and slightly worried as he made his declaration. It was your favorite version of his voice.

You gave him another small kiss followed by a smile. “I love you, too, Captain.”

***

Steve twirled you on the dance floor before pulling you back to hold you against his chest. “Having fun?”

“Time of my life, baby,” you assured with a grin.

He mirrored your expression before pressing his lips against yours. Your lips were still touching when he said. “I love you, Mrs. Rogers.” And the love that flowed when he called you that for the first time, gave you your new favorite version of his voice.

***

Steve stuck his head in the door, smiling wide when his gaze fell on you and the bundle in your arms. “There’s my girls.”

He moved to the side of the bed and brushed the hair from your face as you fed your daughter. “You were amazing today. Thank you for giving me our daughter.”

You shook your head and smiled at his sappiness. And for a moment, just a moment, you thought you might have found the best version of his voice.

But then he traced a finger down the side of your baby’s face. “And you, princess, will always be my favorite girl. Daddy loves you.”

Yeah. Nothing was going to ever top that.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #celebration summer

[aeruthien]

A New Seed

Characters: Astrid Beck, Luc Brenatto, Caleb Widogast

------

A flash in her periphery is her only warning before a crossbow bolt appears out of nowhere. Just in time, Astrid flings up her shield, a follow up spell dancing on her finger tips, every sense alert.

Had they been found? Where there others? Who had-

"Wow, that was so cool!"

The high chirp sounds from her right, and half hidden in the leaves, she spots the head of the small halfling boy.

With a soft curse, Astrid lets the disintegrate spell fizzle.

"I can see you, you know," she snaps angrily. She ignores the responding "aww" with a roll of her eyes, and forces her quickened breath back under control. No child in Blumenthal would have been able to get away with such behaviour.

She sighs and leans back against the tree, idly spinning her dagger in her hand. The muscles of her underarm are tense, the unreleased arcane energy crackling through the crystals. Sure, the child might have been harmless, but another Volstrucker could sneak up at any moment. She wouldn't put it past her late master to have prepared a fail-safe, and given her fellow Volstrucker orders in case Bren proved more than they could handle. Master Ikithon always had a plan. He should not be underestimated, even with his hands bound and his voice silenced.

The dagger is light as it dances between her fingers. The aasimar protecting Ikithon would not be able to stop her if she forced her way inside. Only Caleb's soft but persistent whisper had stayed her hand thus far. But as she dragged up years and years of pain for her testimony, killing the source of her anger became harder and harder to resist.

She clenches her hand around the hilt, her knuckles turning white. One tiny cut and the world would be rid of him forever. He had taught her well. If she positioned it just beneath the collar, she could-

"Can you teach me that?"

Astrid flinches. The kid is standing in front of her, his wide gaze trained on the dagger.

"Mom only showed me how to shoot," the kid pouts, shifting from one foot to the other, his toy crossbow hanging limply in his little fist.

Astrid runs her hand through her hair and glances around. Sadly, there are no other adults are in sight to distract him.

"Has your Mom even used a dagger?" she huffs.

The boy nods eagerly, voice filled with awe.

"Mom had a dagger, but it was cursed! It ate her alive, and she almost died!"

Astrid grunts non-committally. It is hard to tell if the boy is telling the truth, but the story seems in line with the Mighty Nein's shenanigans.

"Have you ever fought a monster?"

Astrid blinks at the change of topic. Involuntarily, her mind flashes to the man locked inside the house. She pushes the thought away and rakes her memory for a suitable situation as the kids keeps staring up at her.

"I fought an ogre once," she admits.

The kid frowns.

"What's an ogre?"

"A very big man."

His face falls in disappointment.

"But my Mom has fought many of those," he whines. "That's boring!"

"Well, was your Mom only seventee-"

Astrid snaps her mouth shut, cutting off her own indignant retort.

What is she doing? Feeling upset that a four year old does not deign her monster 'cool' enough? It had been her first real mission, and she and Wulf had won through a clever use of a lightning bolt, which had triggered an avalanche. But she is a Volstrucker. They do not argue with children.

A tiny hand pats her own.

"Don't worry," the boy chirps. "You'll fight cool monsters someday too!"

Before she can reply, he darts away. As she stares after him, dumbfounded, she almost misses Caleb, who is approaching with two bowls. He glances at the boy and back at her.

"He likes you," he mutters with a soft smile.

Astrid shrugs, and for a second Caleb stares down at her.

"Ehm, Caduceus has made us some food. If you want."

Tentatively, he hands her the bowl, pointedly ignoring the dagger. Astrid slips it back into its sheath, refusing to feel self conscious, and takes the bowl.

"Danke," she mutters. The food smells good, as always. Caleb sinks down into the grass next to her, and she takes a tentative bite from what looks like to be an aubergine.

"You are good," Caleb says after a moment of silence. "With him"

Astrid raises an eyebrow and Caleb shrugs.

"You did not scare him away," he amends.

Astrid scoffs.

"You did not teach him proper fear."

Caleb chuckles. "Ja, that is true. He is a menace."

They both pick at their food, both glancing everywhere but at each other, until Astrid can't take the silence any more.

"Why are we here?" she blurts out.

He frowns, turning towards her. "You know why-"

"Not that. Why are we here?"

She gestures at the Grove. Down near the patch of destroyed plants, Wulf is holding a shovel, accompanied by the drow. The drow is wearing colourful mittens. Wulf is wearing a straw hat. Trent Ikithon is locked inside the house, being spoon-fed by a firbolg.

"This is ridiculous."

It comes out as a whine. A plea. Pathetic, she thinks, but she can't stop tears burning behind her eyes.

The firbolg has joined Wulf and the drow, holding flowers to replace the ones that died.

"Ridiculous, yes," Caleb mutters, following her gaze. "But that is life."

But Caleb's expression is not one of happiness. He looks at them with wistful longing and apprehension, and Astrid wants to scream. Because if he does not understand this, he who crashed back into her life, disrupting everything - if he can't show her what she is supposed to do, then how can she deal with it on her own?

Be Bren! she wants to yell at him. Be the boy who made me laugh. Who held me during the night and who kissed me until we were both breathless. Be the boy who was happy.

Instead, his voice stutters as he recounts Ikithon's experiments. Instead, he buries his head in the halfling's shoulder, whole body shaking. Instead, his gaze lingers on the drow, uncertain and prepared for disappointment.

Astrid takes a shuddering breath. Ikithon would have berated her for showing even a little emotion. Instead, she feels a brush against her palm as Caleb slips his hand in hers. He is watching her again, gauging her reaction.

She thinks of pulling away. They can't be what they were, the three of them. Too much has changed. Too much is steeped in regret. But she is so tired. And is she not allowed this one little comfort? So she rests back against the tree and closes her eyes, one hand clutching her waist and the other clenched in Caleb's.

Their fingers are still entwined when Jester bounces towards them to summon them for dinner. Caleb stands first, but before she can miss his touch, he holds out his hand to her with a small smile.

She swallows, before letting him pull her to her feet. He keeps holding on as they are submerged in the whirlwind that is the Mighty Nein, and they sit next to each other during dinner, Wulf having joined on her other side.

As the sounds wash over her, Astrid finally relaxes. The group is loud and overwhelming, but their clamour drowns out the sceptical voice inside her head. The expositor nods at her from across the table, expression serious. The halfing woman is recounting another one of their adventures to her awestruck child and exasperated husband.

"Astrid, I made my hair look like yours!"

Jester grins at her.

"Sehr schön," Astrid answers.

"Caleb, was that good? I assume it is good!"

"Ja, it was."

Astrid shakes her head as Jester turns her attention to the half-orc. Caleb squeezes her hand, and with a huff, she meets his small smile with her own.

It won't be the same as before. But maybe, with Ikithon truly locked away, they could plant something new.

#critical role #blumendrei #blumentrio #astrid x caleb #widobeck #widostrid #astrid beck #caleb widogast #luc brenatto #my fic #first CR fic!! #and of course it is going to blumentrio angst #shadowgast #mentioned #I have caught the FEELINGS you all

[starshipsofstarlord]

remember my name

steve rogers x ronin!reader / masterlist

summary; five years is a long time, but now there is hope of returning those that turned to ashes to the reality. as a former member of the avengers, steve sets out to find you, finally seeing what you had become / warnings; death, angst, murder, mentions of sex, smut, flashback, captain kink

blood, it ran like a serpent on the cement, curving its red spine to elaborate the cracks in the ground. steve watched with distaste on the street, his patriotic orbs following after the crimson lines, watching lewdly as they met with the hood’s feet.

steve’s expression was one of exasperation, concurred in a waver of disgruntled shock. there were remnants of the kill dripping from blade, descending to the ground. once, the weapon had been used to allege a fight for a good cause. oh, how times had changed.

now it was served a purpose to subdue execution, slicing the air ways of men that deserved no more than have been turned to dust along with their previous victims. now, they could disdain no more damage onto society, their numbers were dwindling, as each was taken down, with the retribution of their loyal followers.

his blue eyes were given no option to look away, not as the inflicting murderess dropped her hood, revealing her face; it was you. the rain spattered the street, clinging your follicles to the surface of your face, it had gotten longer since the last time he had seen you, the parting of one side of your head was shaved, it was a modern style, and well, different than what he had been used to.

“y/n...” it felt as though he were uttering a stranger’s name, it had been half a decade since he had last witnessed your presence, after everyone had vanished, you had ventured off, taking the lives of many as you attempted to move on and satiate in your sorrow.

“it’s been a long time steve.” you smiled, as you watched his blond locks drown in the weather, though, he paid no mind. his eyes were locked upon you, his pupils dilated as he studied every difference to your exterior. you appeared a little older, as was a given, there were dark circles bothering the ponds of your under eyes, stating that you still struggled with nightmares after you had lost the battle.

“for you too, as i can see.” he sadly smiled, watching intently as you put the katana back into its slip, stepping inherently closer as he grasped your cheek, noticing how you tried to turn out of his grip. he didn’t allow you that luxury, he held your face steady as he nervously panted. “why did you leave, and do this as an alternative of all things?”

“avenging is no longer an accomplishment, we lost, and this way, i am abolishing the bad guys before they get their rise to global terror. don’t you understand?”

“no, i didn’t mean the compound, i meant that night.” even him mentioning it had you freezing up, aware of what he was promoting at. “we had our moment, and you disappeared, you weren’t there in the morning; i needed you, and i thought you needed me too.”

“who i was back the did, she really needed you, but she’s gone. she had to go, if she hadn’t, then she wouldn’t have survived the aftermath. now why are you here rogers?” your tone was stiff, demanding an answer.

“steve.” his name was a safe haven on your lips, he laid atop of you, his beard brushing the sides along your neck as he planted sloppy kisses upon your delicate skin. fighting against thanos and all his force had essentially been a failure, people, your friends, had obliterated into piles of ash, blowing away whence the wakandan wind ushered by, like a whisper in the air.

the captain rutted his hips, as the pair of you laid in a combination of explorative limbs on your bed within the compound, sufficing sounds of pleasure withering out of your lips. he too needed to release some steam, using your body and it’s warm grip, as you did the same in turn.

there was pain lurking in the depths of your emotion conjuring eyes, reflecting in his blue orbs, as he opened them, glancing at your face to fuel his movements of anticipating release. “i’m close captain, don’t stop.” he brought his hard working hand down, fiddling with your sensitive nub between his fingers, coercing you into spiralling over the edge.

he himself didn’t last much longer, grunts of emphasised endorsement radiating off his chest, as he placed a heavy and heated kiss upon your poised lips. a ground shaking tending of his shoulders indicated that he was stiffening up, getting close to relieving himself, and the stress that harboured his shield of a heart.

he had been through so much already, same as you, and thus when he rolled off of you, he brought your body to lay against his chest, raking his fingers through your hair, planting a tender kiss upon your forehead.

“we’ll get them back darling.” he promised you, as you all relished in the company of one another, some more than others, as you waited to hear something, anything, from tony, wherever the hell he was in the abyss above. it was a promise of steve’s part, but as time went on, it became doll.

like an old movie, it lost it’s future optimism, disappearing into a blithering of new coming titles, fawning you into remembering all their names, and how you would never see them again. they were all gone, your family vanished, and there was nothing that could be done.

it was a long shot, but it was the best chance that they had been handed. scott had informed them of quantum physics, and how it protected him from the blip and all its pain; time worked differently in the realm that he had delved into, and it gave them hope.

not to mention, they had yet to see tony, and make his mind revisit the prospect of reversing the affects of the infinity gauntlet, and thanos’ thu’um. and if steve managed to bring you aboard their hopefulness, he would take you with them, and show you the cabin that tony resided in.

it would be his way of informing you that you could have it all, the life that you wanted. a home, where you would no longer have to run, finding shelter and attacking the enemy from dark corners, preying on them like a predator, disguising yourself in a black attire, so that you could blend into the deadly atmosphere almost undetected.

and not to mention, the marriage and the kid. they were things that you had sworn off, revelling in the life of a skilled mercenary, never wanting to ever endanger loved ones in that way, knowing the wrath that your job and potential could cause.

“we have a chance to set things straight.” he responded, noticing how you had stepped away from his hand, and instead focused all your senses into listening to him. “there is a way to bring them all back.” a chortled laugh echoed off your chest, as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“if there was, we would have found it years ago, don’t give me hope where there is none.” you insisted, the emotion straining through your words. “that night, i left all reminders behind, don’t return them to my brain when i am finally able to comprehend what i need to do.”

“what you need to do y/n is have a little faith, you trust me, don’t you?” a moment of silence enveloped the two of you, the falling of the rain filling in the tense air, as steve continued to reprimand your agenda. “i know you do, so, so come home.”

the avengers compound; home. “tell me it will work steve, i can’t lose them again, not again. false efficiency concerning this will only make it hurt once more, possibly worst than the first, where i saw their bodies descend into nothing more than specks.”

“it has to.” those words were the same thing that he had been telling himself. “and if not, we’ll have each other to lean on again, i know it’s not much but-“

“it’s enough.” you finished for him, a pained smile expressive on your complexion. “because this time, i am really going to need you, i will become who i was once more. and if i crumble, i am going to need you to be there for me, to catch you when i fall, and most probably if we do get them back. i still feel overwhelmed about everything, and thus all that bothers my mind is images of you.”

how you wished he had stayed, but alas he had to go back in time, and unite with peggy, alternately allowing you to spiral. it made you regret, only partially of course on a somewhat selfish scale, ever continuing on with the due path. whilst you had gained your family back, you had lost one vastly import member.

you’d remember his name, for good and bad. he had hurt you, but helped you altogether, reminding you of your duty once more, that was avenging. a part of you wished that you had never left him that night, maybe then, his actions would have been different, and he’d have stayed, but again, it was only a theory, something you could never be certain of.

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers and reader #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x reader #Steve Rogers x reader smut #Steve Rogers imagines #imagines #imagine #xreader #marvel x reader #marvel smut #captain america x you #cap smut #captain america x female reader #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america oneshot #captain America imagines #mcu smut #chris evans smut #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader

[extasiswings]

I can’t finish the second half of this yet, but I figured I would post the first.  Also on ao3. EDIT: PART 2 IS HERE. 

Eddie’s avoiding him.  

At first Buck brushed it off—Eddie wasn’t avoiding him, it was early in the morning, he needed coffee, he hadn’t slept well. It was a coincidence that Eddie was nowhere to be found as the sky shifted from hazy pre-dawn to full daylight.  A coincidence that Eddie just happened to walk out of every room Buck walked into, if he was in one at all.  

A locker shut too quickly.  A half-empty coffee cup left on the counter.  

By the time the first alarm of the shift goes off though, Buck’s starting to think he might have to face the inevitable.

“Where’s Eddie?”  Hen asks when he climbs into the truck.  “Aren’t you two usually attached at the hip?”

Buck forces a smile and shrugs.  “Guess not today.”

Eddie’s the last one in.  When he doesn’t give him more than a passing glance, Buck’s stomach twists.  

They make it through the morning without incident—or, rather, they make it through the morning with both of them successfully doing their jobs as Buck steals glances at Eddie every few minutes, unsuccessfully trying to get a read on him—but by the afternoon there really is no denying it.  

Eddie’s avoiding him.  And Buck doesn’t have the faintest idea why.  

“Eddie—”

When they pull back into the station, Eddie’s out of the truck first and Buck blows out a frustrated breath and calls after him.  He doesn’t stop, but Buck scrambles out and manages to catch up.

“You want to tell me what’s going on with you today?”  He asks when he finally manages to corner him in the locker room.

“Really don’t want to talk about it right now, Buck,” Eddie replies.  He seems to be looking anywhere except at Buck, his jaw tense, and Buck has never been more confused.  

“Well, we have another six hours on this shift, so…”  Buck trails off and waits, but Eddie doesn’t fill the silence.  Buck sighs.  “Seriously, what the hell is wrong?  I saw you a day and a half ago and we were fine, now you’re avoiding me and pissed off?”

“Yeah, remind me—how was watching Christopher the other day again?”

Buck pauses, feeling like he’s walking into a trap.

“It was fine?” Buck says slowly. “He was good, we had a good time.”

“Right, you said,” Eddie replies. “Neglected to mention the part where you told him I was out on a date though. Or the nice long conversation you had about it afterwards.”

And there’s the shoe dropping. Right into his stomach like a block of lead. Because, okay, yeah—maybe in the process of making conversation he had said so, it must be kinda weird having your dad out on a date and instead of saying yes or no Christopher had looked up from his coloring and asked dad’s what? And maybe that led to a very different conversation than Buck intended. And maybe he hadn’t mentioned it when Eddie came to pick Chris up, or afterwards, because Chris asked him not to.

...and maybe he’s just now realizing that was a big mistake.

“I didn’t know he didn’t know,” Buck says. “It’s not like it’s a secret—“

Eddie rakes a hand through his hair.  He still won’t look at him.

“We’ve been on five dates—five casual dates. It’s not serious—I don’t even know what it is yet—and I was going to tell him myself and answer any questions he had when it became something he needed to know about.”

Buck crosses his arms. “So it is a secret. Or was. At least from him.”

And maybe the judgment in his voice isn’t fair, maybe he’s projecting a little even though he knows that Eddie not telling Christopher he was dating and his own parents lying to him about his entire life are not remotely equatable, but it’s there in his tone and Eddie’s shoulders tense, his eyes narrowing as he finally meets Buck’s gaze.

“I don’t always tell him about absolutely everything that happens in my life immediately, especially when it doesn’t affect him,” Eddie replies, his own voice carefully even. “That doesn’t make me a bad parent.”

“I didn’t say—“

The alarm goes off and Buck swears under his breath.

Eddie brushes past him and Buck opens his mouth to call after him again.  But then he closes it, swearing again as he tries to shove everything down and follows after Eddie back to the truck.  

Hen looks between them as they get back in the truck, her eyebrows shooting up as she takes in the set of Eddie’s jaw and the way he’s staring pointedly out the window.  

“Everything...okay?”  She asks.

“Fine,” Buck replies, clicking his seatbelt and looking out the opposite window.  

Halfway to LAX, he decides to just apologize even if he doesn’t really understand what he’s apologizing for.  But then, in the time it takes to get the rest of the way there, he talks himself out of it again.  If Eddie wanted to date and hide it, that was one thing, but that didn’t mean Christopher didn’t have a right to know.  Who cares that he spilled the beans a little early?  If Eddie wanted him to babysit, he should have told him that he didn’t want Christopher to know why.  

Then they probably still would have fought about it, but then at least they wouldn’t be at work like this.  

They pull onto the tarmac and get out of the truck and everything is just fine until Bobby says—

“Buck, go help Eddie.”   

Eddie’s in the middle of giving a concussion check to the woman on the ground, but his shoulders tense slightly at Buck’s approach.

“How can I help?”  Buck asks.

Eddie clears his throat roughly.  “Can you grab that gurney, please?  I’ll need help lifting her.”  

They work in silence, Eddie sliding a backboard underneath the woman—their eyes meet for a brief moment as they lift the board up to the gurney.  And Buck hates it.  Hates the silence, hates the avoidance, hates the distance.  Normally, he wouldn’t get into this in the field, but they’re almost done anyway, so he can’t quite stop himself from saying—

“I know you’re a good dad.  That wasn’t what I meant.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow and glances pointedly down at their patient and back up at him as if to say really, you want to do this now?   

“Look, I—”  Buck blows out a frustrated breath and changes his mind again.  “I’m really not seeing the issue here.  If you want me to apologize, I’m sorry that I brought it up when Christopher didn’t know, but—”

“That’s not even half the point, Buck,” Eddie shoots back.  “You shouldn’t have been bringing it up at all.”

“He’s a kid, I figured he would have questions.”

“It’s not your place though, is it?  Because he’s not your kid!”  

Buck reels back like he’s been slapped.  The world falls out from under him as his throat closes up, and he catches the faintest flicker of regret across Eddie’s face before he adds—

“Besides, it’s not like I’m the only one of us who’s dating.  But you didn’t feel like you needed to talk to him about yourself, did you?”

Eddie’s wheeling the gurney off before Buck can untangle his tongue—or untwist his mind—enough to respond.  

Buck spends the rest of the shift in a fog replaying it all.  He considers asking Eddie what exactly that last remark was supposed to mean, but he can’t get past the sick hollowed out feeling in his gut, like he’s missed several steps walking down the stairs.  He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to expect—they’ve only had one major fight before, and that was during the lawsuit when Buck was fighting with everyone, and this is—

It feels even more personal than that had.  

Part of the problem is, he knows that Eddie isn’t wrong.  He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.  

Christopher is Eddie’s kid.  And maybe the lines have gotten blurred because Buck spends so much time with them, because he’s right there next to Eddie more often than not, helping to make dinner and playing games and helping put Chris to bed and checking his homework—

But.  Christopher is Eddie’s kid.  At the end of the day, that’s it.  And logically, Buck knows that, so it shouldn’t sting so much to have that very real fact thrown back in his face, but...it does.    

No, he didn’t feel the need to talk to Chris about him dating because it’s a nonissue.  He’s not going anywhere, it’s not going to change anything, He’s only doing it at all because—

Buck’s climbing into the jeep at the end of the shift when he has the thought, and it’s too sudden for him to cut it off the way he normally would, to shove it down and pretend it’s not grating at his insides.

He’s only dating because Eddie is.  So that he has something to think about except the fact that Eddie is.  And the fact that he doesn’t want—

Buck blows out a breath and rakes a hand through his hair.  Then, he shoves his keys in the ignition and starts off home.

(It’s easier to date than to admit that he’s jealous of Ana Flores.  Because if he admits that...he doesn’t know where they go from there.)

#chapel writes #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fic #shhhh trust me

[chusui00]

Have A Little Faith

Word Count: 1,783

Summary: You are at Lady Danbury’s evening ball, which is the perfect opportunity to find a potential suitor so that you can finally settle down. But of course, it’s not as easy as it sounds. You’ve found yourself standing far away from everyone else, and just when you think tonight will be fruitless, your childhood friend, Anthony Bridgerton, changes all of the thoughts inside your head.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Tonight was the night where I needed to do a little flirting with men I have never personally met, and hopefully, I’ll impress them with my charms. That’s if they would gauge their attention onto me instead of whatever they wanted to boast about.

Mama practically talked my ear off when we were upon arriving Lady Danbury’s estate, but Richard distracted her with the topic of his new fiancée like the eldest brother he is. I still hadn’t thanked him for his act of bravery, although, that could wait for when we were in the carriage.

In my mind, I ventured on about whether or not he would be at the ball. The last time we’ve met was nearly three days ago when our families agreed to have a picnic in celebration of a newborn baby coming into the world. As much as I enjoyed engaging in social encounters, I had been more comfortable with reading alone in my room.

But alas, he persuaded me to join everyone outside where we could eat and share jokes under the warm sun together. Since then, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his shoulder brushed against mine more than enough times to call it accidental.

The man even offered to feed me a sandwich and delectable piece of scone he had already bitten into. Luckily for the two of us, our families were too immersed with doting over the aforementioned newborn baby to realize what we were doing.

Viscount Bridgerton, informally known as Anthony or Bridgerton by both family and close friends. I was not exempt from the latter formalities, although, I’ve always wondered what my life would be like if I had not crossed paths with him.

He is everything and more when Lady Whistledown wrote about him in her society’s paper last Tuesday. And to be quite frank, he needed to work for what he wanted rather than let it fall into his lap.

It seemed unfathomable the way he charmed his way through women of the ton while simultaneously rejecting them. I found it entertaining to see the crestfallen faces of girls my age, but am I to blame for their naïveté?

Anthony Bridgerton is a Rake through and through, which I can say with the utmost certainty because I am his childhood friend.

Now, don’t get me wrong. He loves his mother and siblings in place of his late father, and he is very passionate in regards of his interests. That includes women who have a pretty face and have given him an unforgettablely good time.

But this did not excuse the trail of broken hearts as well as tearful confessions behind the Viscount. Although a bit discouraging for someone who harbored feelings for the man, I always kept a smile on my face whenever we had a conversation with one another.

Anthony was extremely well-versed in politics, social skills, and the economy. There were times when I tested him on a popular topic in the papers, which as expected, he excelled.

I should not be thinking about the past at this hour. Everyone around me was dancing, drinking their glasses of champagne, and looking for someone to court. Letting out a deep sigh, I brush off a speck of invisible dust from the hem of my dress.

That’s when I see him, politely making his way through the crowd to go to where I am. A silent panic breaks my former calm demeanor, and I quickly stand taller to seem more presentable. It does not go unnoticed in the slightest, thus Anthony chuckles behind a hand then he stands before me in his handsome glory.

“Good evening, Miss Willows. How are you enjoying the ball so far?” There’s a mischievous glint behind those mesmerizing brown eyes, but onlookers would mistake it as a completely different emotion. “Hello, Lord Bridgerton. I’m much comfortable standing on the sidelines rather than dancing the night away. Thank you for asking, my lord.”

He shakes his head with amusement, and he finds my honest reply to be of a different mood compared to the other young women. “Then you shan’t refuse my offer to dance the night away, Miss Willows.” I furrow my brows in confusion and not a moment later, I’m swept onto the dance floor.

I’ve not the chance to process all that has happened, but Anthony keeps me focused on him and only him. He lowers his head to whisper words of encouragement, and I flush like a rose when he sneaks a kiss on the apple of my cheek. It’s too much for me to understand why he chose me instead of any other woman he wanted in the ball room.

“I’m relieved to see that you’re not stepping on my feet, and how beautiful your smile glows, Miss Willows.” I’m temporarily rendered speechless as to why he’s suddenly being quite the gentleman towards me. If it weren’t for the bystanders, he and I would be playfully bantering nonstop about the most random things we could think of.

“Anthony, tell me, what’s gotten into you? I appreciate the change of attitude, but it’s not the Bridgerton I know.” He’s unresponsive for a minute, then two. I can feel his grip on my waist tighten and the subtle action to bring our bodies closer. I’m not sure how I should react, but I needn’t say anything at all when he spins me around.

“My mother wants me to find a young lady to court because she’s tired of me being a bachelor for most of my life.” “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised because she’s right.” I’m quick to give my reply, and he briefly glares down at me. “Oh, come now, Anthony. Even Lady Whistledown knows about your spectacular reputation and preferences.”

“Yes, but that’s all she knows about me, y/n. I just don’t think I’m capable of settling down with a family of my own in the near future.” The song comes to an end, and we bow before walking together for some refreshments. I say my hellos to several couples, single lords, and some of my friends when we come across them.

“That is a lie because from my knowledge, you’re the spitting image and exact replica of your father, Anthony Bridgerton.” “Y/n, I’m grateful to have met an extraordinary woman like yourself, but sometimes you get on my nerves.” That stabbed me right in the heart. Alright, perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned his late father, but he didn’t have to be so harsh.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you can marry whoever you want to, but you’d most definitely choose a woman with the same personality as yours.” I watch him take a swig from his wine glass, and then he points it at me. Narrowing my eyes as I brace myself for possible humiliation, he sets down the glass and takes my hand to drag me off to someplace other than where we were now.

I won’t lie when I say that I was nervous yet excited to find out where he was taking me. Benedict, Colin, and Eloise all looked our way then at their mother, and I could tell that they had connected the dots. It was a good thing that Lady Bridgerton found her happy place with alcohol, otherwise she would’ve stopped Anthony in his tracks.

We eventually reach our destination, which so happens to be one of countless rooms that was conveniently far away for anyone to hear. Don’t tell me... “Anthony, what are we doing over here? Shouldn’t we be with all those people, and dancing the night away?”

No answer from my captor. He seemed to be in deep thought, and I scoffed in disbelief. I most certainly did not want to spend the rest of my time on my friend, especially when he wouldn’t tell me why he brought me here. “Look, I came to this ball to find a suitor. If you won’t answer me, then—“

Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. The hand that was once squeezing my waist found its rightful place, and the other gently brushed my hair back. I fluttered my eyes closed, letting myself melt in his embrace as we kissed with a fiery passion I knew that had always been between us.

A few moments later, he pulled away then buried his face into the crook of my neck. I felt him inhale then exhale, as though he was trying to control himself from doing something I hadn’t done before. “I want you, y/n. But only if you’ll allow me to court you. We have gone through thick and thin in our childhood, and I want nothing more to continue for the rest of our lives.”

The Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was asking for my consent to be courted, and I would be delusional to reject his confession. I’ve never seen him so sincere and vulnerable like this before, and it made me giggle. He must’ve thought that I was going to refuse his offer, but I snake my arms around his neck then kiss his soft lips for reassurance.

“I’ve never thought you would ask, Anthony. But this means no more secret meetings, alright? If I hear an inkling about you being where you’ve told me you wouldn’t be at, then I’m ending things. Am I clear, Bridgerton?” He swallows thickly and nods, so I’m rather grateful that my warning has gotten through.

I bring my hands to cup his face, and I now see how much he adores me the way he relaxes against my touch. Unfortunately, we’ve been gone for far too long, but I don’t doubt that he’ll come up with a reasonable excuse to his worrying mama.

Anthony kisses the top of my head before taking my hand and leading me back the way we came. I intertwine our fingers to which he brings up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “It might be too soon to say this, but I absolutely and undoubtedly love you, y/n Willows. I promise to cherish you for as long as I am going to live.”

It takes a bit for me to absorb the sudden declaration, but I’m not complaining whatsoever. All that mattered was that we shared equal affection for one another, and we were willing to work for a bright, lovely lifestyle ahead of us. “And I wholeheartedly love you, Anthony Bridgerton. You are mine for eternity,”

Some might say that we were too inexperienced when it came to love, but we ignored their opinions. Like my mama used to tell me when I was a child, “Have a little faith.”

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #romance

[sserpente]

A/N: October fluff! Request from @jokersqueenofchaos. Enjoy! 🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂

Words: 1372 Warnings: pure fluff

Loki sighed, for the third time in a row now. You had learned the hard way that if there was something weighing heavy on his heart but he was yet unwilling to speak plainly about it, he would react hissing like a cat trying to protect her kittens.

His sighs suited the crisp autumn air, every step you both took causing the dry leafs to your feet to crunch as you ruffled through them with your boots.

The last time Loki was on a peaceful stroll had been before he had known he was a Frost Giant. He had told you he would go picking flowers and plants with Frigga for potions and healing creams—and you were surprised by how well he knew the vegetation on this planet. If anything, he knew the trees and plants better than you did. It was almost a little embarrassing but then again, despite of what you had heard about the incidents in New York, he had never treated you in a condescending way.

“Loki, what’s wrong? You keep sighing like your life depends on it.”

He smiled faintly. “Perhaps it does.” He sounded sad too, melancholic almost.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Would it help?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes you feel better if you confide in someone.”

He chuckled. “And I suppose you should be the person I confide in?” It was strange, having these normal conversations with him, both for him and you. But you would not deny how nice it felt to be chatting to him like that—without any suspicion, fear or mistrust. Besides, so you figured, Loki needed more reasons to laugh.

“Yes. And if you don’t, I will throw…” You looked around, spotting the leave pile a garden caretaker must have raked not so long ago. “…those leafs at you!” You concluded, raising an eyebrow in a both threatening and playful manner.

Loki raised both of his in response. “Will you now?”

“Would you like to find out?”

His laugh was short-lived. “Look…” He began suddenly then. Your heart skipped a beat. “It has been almost ten months since the destruction of Asgard. I wonder… what is my purpose here?” His tone was bitter, making you frown.

“Purpose? What do you mean?”

“Thor took me here presuming the humans would just accept me. After everything that happened I was naïve enough to believe that would be the case.” Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him, compassion spreading in your veins. “In the end, I did exactly what I swore to myself I would never do again—run after my brother and his affection like a lapdog.

“And for what? They all despise me on this planet. I do not blame them. Nor do I particularly care. I do not, however, see why I would while away my life in a place I am not welcome in.”

“I like you.” You suggested, a sheepish smile playing on your lips. Heavens, you had known how unwelcome Loki felt here on Earth. No matter where you went, the looks he received were almost unbearable, not to mention the way the Avengers, especially Tony, treated him. But this? In fact, there was an elderly lady walking her dog a few feet from you right now too, seemingly disturbed at the sight of Loki enjoying the light autumn breeze in the park despite the more or less casual clothes he was wearing.

Removing your hands from your warm pockets, you stepped in front of him, hindering him from walking on. And much to your surprise, Loki reciprocated your smile.

“Yes. You do. Yet I am unable to tell whether you genuinely like me or merely pity me.” He paused. He sounded so insecure it almost broke your heart. You did pity him, in a way. But that was not why you spent time with him—quite on the contrary. You admired him for his strength and cockiness. The thing about Loki was that he never showed his fear, always hid his weaknesses. He was incredibly smug about you wanting to be around him and preferring his company over Thor’s in front of the Avengers but whenever the two of you were alone together… whether he wished to or not, you knew he did not understand why you would be with him voluntarily.

“I found myself considering leaving.” He said.

Your face fell. “Leaving? Leaving where? A-another country?”

“Another planet, actually. Jötunheim, perhaps. I am the rightful king of this realm. I could make true what I had promised after all—that I would restore Jötunheim to its former glory.” His blue gaze started to drift away, making your heart beat even faster.

“But… W-what about me?”

Loki frowned, seemingly confused as his eyes locked with yours again. “What about you?”

“Can I come?”

“Jötunheim is hardly a safe place for a mortal like you, my dear.” Once more, he paused and then added, “Why would you want to join me in the first place?”

“No one should have to be alone, Loki. And you’re gonna have to accept that you’re stuck with me. If you’re going, I’m coming.”

He hesitated. “You are not. It’s too dangerous. I will have no time to babysit a mortal.”

“Hey!”

“Jötuns are savage, my dear. Their laws do not care for personal space or basic human rights.”

“Well, if you are going to be king, you can just change those laws.” He chuckled in response—it was a sound which made pleasant shivers run up and down your spine.

“Promise me you will at least think about it. In the meantime, I’ll tell no soul you are thinking about leaving.”

Loki sighed—for the fourth time now. “Very well. I promise.”

“Good.” It was then you bent down, gathering a few dry leafs in your hands. They crunched a little as you picked them up and then threw them at his face. Loki blinked.

“What was that for? I did tell you, did I not?” You could tell he was trying hard to appear irked by your vicious attack—instead, he cracked a cheeky smirk.

“And you believed me?!” You cried out, feigning shock in your voice. “Come on, Trickster. It’s October. Time for some Halloween mischief.”

Loki looked up at you—and it was in this very moment that you realised just why he had been such an intimidating villain back in New York.

“Run.” He growled darkly, making your heart beat faster. You giggled, then spun around on your heels and legged it, laughing out loud in the process. Before you could even make it more than ten feet away from him, leafs began to rain down on you—and there were so many of them you were, unceremoniously, swarmed by them to the point you lost your orientation. Screaming and laughing all at the very same time. It was more than just obvious that he was using magic for his sweet revenge but before you could once more spin around and complain, Loki, appearing out of nowhere, wrapped his arms around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and throwing you straight into the pile of leafs.

You landed softly, with his strong body still tightly against yours. When his warm breath brushed against the back of your neck, you shivered. The sound of his blithe laugh warmed your heart.

“Hey… let’s head home, make a fire and roast some sweet potatoes and marshmallows. Actually, we could also pick up some sweet chestnuts from the store on our way back.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, making you realise just how close his face was to yours right now. For a brief moment, you simply admired his features—the high cheekbones, the sharp jawline, the long dark eyelashes, the thin lips, the mesmerising blue eyes with mischief sparkling in them—Loki was not only handsome. He was downright beautiful.

“If I get to light the fire…” He eventually responded, his smile devilish.

The old lady who must have been watching you alarmed ever since you had let out that scream almost fainted when you leaned forward and gently kissed the God of Mischief on the cheek, watching his face light up like a Christmas tree.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! Caffeine is essential as a writer, I guess. And red wine. A lot of red wine. ko-fi.com/sserpente

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