#how does her ribcage stand out like that

[moonlesslights]

Miguel O’hara in Love

Headcanons.

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A/N: I was really looking forward to write this, because I just can’t get this whole idea out of my head.

Warnings: Basically none, a little bit of angst maybe?, some smut references and depictions. Miguel being Miguel. Kinda obsessive (?)

This text is based in that frase of Joe Goldberg: “There’s not a line, in the world, that I wouldn’t cross for you”. So be prepared.

Enjoy, my loves. Every comment or request is welcomed! 🤍

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Miguel was curious of you from the very moment he met you. Such a unique presence among all the others.

You had been bitten just a month ago. And it was hard for you. He saw you struggle, falling over and over again, training till exhaustion, fighting to be on the level of the others.

And the worst part of it all, was the guilt coming to attack him with every side eye Jessica gave to him. “If you weren’t going to help her, you should have let her alone.” The woman had whispered while both of them looked at you fighting to climb another building. Miguel knew she was right. He was the one who insisted in bringing you immediately after they found you (only a couple of days after the bite), even when Jessica insisted to give you time for you to figure it out alone. Miguel wasn’t having it, and now… “She’s been at it for the whole morning.” The woman pursed her lips, shaking her head.

What Jessica didn’t quite know was that Miguel hadn’t left you alone all this time… He wasn’t good at talking, that was true. He wasn’t good at showing his support with words, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care.

You let out a pained groan when you finally plop on the concrete of the building’s rooftop. Every single muscle of your body aches and you can fell your heart pounding harshly against your ribcage, making it feel like every breath that makes it to your lungs it’s just a mere miracle.

The weight of the presence of someone standing beside you forces you to blink out of your thoughts. Tiredly, you look up, finding Miguel's mask glaring back at you with a deep frown you can make out of the way his eyes curve.

He holds a white little package on his right and he hands it to you before finally sitting down without making a single sound. It had all started like a little game between the two of you: You pretend you don’t see his figure hovering above a building while you train, or his silhouette watching you getting back to The Society place safely. You also pretend you don’t know it’s him who leaves bandages and painkillers over your bed every day with a little chocolate next to it. And he pretends he doesn’t know that you know.

You cross your legs and smile when you open the small box on your hands, smelling the sweet scent of warm and fresh food. You also take notice of how he changed one of the things he brought you last time, you didn’t have the heart to tell him, but you were sure now he definitely noticed you didn’t like it.

“Eat.” He orders and you are too tired to remark his tone of voice with a roll of your eyes. So you nod, bringing a big spoonful of pasta and vegetables to your mouth, thanking him with a big smile. Smile he doesn’t return. He never does anyway. But now it’s not like always. He’s pissed. “When was the last time you ate?”

You look straight ahead, avoiding his gaze. You swallow, slowly, feeling his eyes burning on the side of your head.

“Mhm… Not long ago, no.” You answer, mumbling while you get more food into your mouth. Miguel raises an eyebrow.

“Training this much without any nutriments won’t do anything good for you…”

“Training this much won’t do anything anyway.” You sigh, keeping then the fork between your lips. Miguel wishes to say something but he can’t find the words, he can’t order his thoughts inside his head to place them on his tongue and tell you just how much you have improved since the first day, so he gladly receives your bright eyes turning to him when you seem to remember: “But I finally climbed this building, see? Without using any web, only my spider fingers.”

The man nods at you waving playfully at him. The determination in your eyes even when your whole body wanted to give up, even when you know you’re still not close to go on a mission by yourself (or with anyone else), even when you probably couldn’t even sleep fine because of the sore bruises, the determination in your eyes didn’t flatter.

That made him feel something deep is his hands, a tingle he couldn’t control. And he hated it.

“Tomorrow at seven.” He sentences, standing on his feet again.

You frown, raising big eyes at him. The brightness in them when the weight of his words hit you destabilizes him.

“For real?”

“Yes.” He looks away. “If I don’t train you you’re not getting anywhere.”

His comment goes unnoticed for the excitement running all along your body.

“Ok.” You nod, trying to look professional but failing miserably.

He grunts in response, soon jumping off of the building and losing among all of the city chaos. In some minutes he would be back at the Society lobby. You… An hour. Give or take.

Training with Miguel was nothing but… Hell.

No, it actually wasn’t. You expected you could say that to make people thing you were having it hard, but he insisted on starting with the basics… basics that you already felt like being good at.

Still, climbing had become easier within the first week of training with him. The tips and advices he insisted you to follow helped you thinking of it more like a game than a must do.

Swinging was still a tricky one. You used to lose your balance when the demanded velocity was too much. Panic rushed over you, feeling like you would crash against a window or a fucking person, or another spider doing their own training.

“Trust your senses.” Miguel said to you every time you fell, and every time you death glared at him for that. He didn’t have one of the most important senses for spider people and he still managed to be better than anyone you could have known. You had them all, and they all seemed to be a mess when you tried to use them.

Soon enough, Miguel learned about a way to motivate you: Rewards. Most of the time was food, some others, the promise of letting you rest for more that five minutes was enough. For a week now, it had been a little bit different.

History. You loved it. And you changed any delicious and tasty food for hours listening to Miguel explaining everything about the multiverse and the tangled webs between all of you. He had told you about his first travels to other Earths at least three times, but you couldn’t seem to get tired.

You might not tell him how much his voice soothes you after a long day out, but it wasn’t necessary, he could see it. On the other hand, he definitely would never tell you how he glanced at you, completely asleep after another history session, memorizing every breath, every mole and freckle, counting every single one of your eyelashes like the stars on the sky above you.

No. You would never find out about that.

Today was supposed to be just like any other day: quiet, calm and premeditated. Nothing out of the routine you and Miguel had adopted for the past four weeks.

But with you, things were never that easy. Boredom was a dangerous thing for you, Miguel had learned it by now. The hard way. If something became not enough exciting for your restless self, you would look for that spark of adrenaline at any cost. It was part of your determination. Heart of a lion. He knew that. But it didn’t change the fact he would have to save you from breaking a few bones every once in a while.

“I’m sorry” You would say after he dropped you on the safe floor again. He would turn to look at you, fire running up his veins. Every time he wanted to yell at you, to snap and tell you it was the last time you do something like that. And every time he would sigh, pressing both finger on the bridge of his nose, finally grunting in a low voice:

“Desobedeciste deliberadamente.” A month was enough for you to know exactly what those words meant.

“I know.”

“You could have hurt yourself.”

“I know…” Then the bright eyes. Always the bright eyes. “But I have to try, I can’t depend on you forever. Getting hurt it’s just part of the way.”

He hated you were right. He lost count of how many broken ribs he got on his first years, of how many scars he still hides under his suit. Eventually, you would have to learn to stand up even if you’re bleeding. Even if you’re dying.

He is not mad at you for disobeying, that’s bullshit. He admired that of you, actually. You don’t act by fear, you do not fear him. You follow your heart even when you know you could get in trouble for it. No, he’s mad because every time he catches you before you hit the ground, all he can think about is that there’s going to be a moment where he won’t be there to do it. And the sound of your body crashing against the concrete, of your pain, would follow him till the darkest moments of the night, where he curses the day you’ll scream his name and he will be too far away to hear it.

“I want to change my reward for today.” You smile at him, both of your hands behind your back, making him suspicious of your teasing voice.

“You’re not going anywhere with Hobie.” He responds in a neutral voice, starting to walk in front of you.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head before getting in front of him and starting to walk backwards so you could keep facing him.

“It’s not that.” You insist. He doesn’t answer and you know that’s his way of telling you to go on. You sigh. “I want to see you without your mask.”

That makes him stop dead on his tracks. He tilts his head, questioning you with curious eyes. That’s all you wanted? No, you wanted that? Why?

Were you really that bored?

“I feel like everyone here has seen you at least one time, except for me. And it’s not fair.” You got a point on that. He spends most of his time training you, you share almost every meal together, he’s the last person you usually talk everyday because you’re too tired to do anything other than going to your room and sleep. You have spent entire days with him, you have cried and made a mess of yourself in front of his presence, and you didn’t even know his face.

You can deny the sting of irritation you get every time Hobie or Gwen, or any other come talking about what they said during the meeting before a mission, meetings where, you had learnt, Miguel used to take off his mask. Peter told you it wasn’t that big of a deal. You wanted to punch him.

“If that’s what you want.” Miguel crosses his arms, tilting his head at you. “Now go tra-…”

You were gone before he could even finish his sentence. He sees your figure going around the building he chose for this particular session. Your swinging had gotten better over the last weeks and the confidence you had in yourself had also been improving, showing your true strength for him to see.

Jessica insisted on you being ready to train at the top levels with the others inside The Society training center, or at least to try. But Miguel profusely refused. He had designed many of the levels to train there, he knew the damage they could cause to someone not prepared to face them.

He blame it on his sense of responsibility over you the fact that he denied any attempt to put you on an unnecessary risk, but deep down, he knew that from the moment he stepped in front of you while you cried for that death he knew all too well now, and then observed how you wiped your tears and showed him your fists, ready to fight him despite everything… He was fucked.

You were the little thing he decided to protect even if it costed his life. The little thing that trusted his claws to hold at her, that puts its life on the line without a second thought. It is not his fault to have never experienced anything like this, to don’t know what to do, to act like a fool, to refuse to lose it… How they cannot understand?

“Done.” You jump in front of him, getting him out of his thoughts.

He looks up, seeing all of the targets on the building covered by a good layer of web. Your precision could be better, but you’re getting at it.

He sighs. He turns to face you completely before ordering his nanotechnology to uncover his face. Dark wavy hair falls onto his temples, brown skin glimmers under the heavy sun above you, full lips press against each other and two cold brown eyes glare down at you.

When you don’t say anything, he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?”

You nod without waiting for another question.

“I just wanted to see your eyes.” You answer confident, smiling softly at him.

It is enough to say he never wore his mask on around you ever again.

Miguel O'Hara isn’t good in what emotion management respects.

He knows it, but he doesn’t have the time or care to try to do something about it.

It wasn’t that big of a deal…

Yeah, it wasn’t that big of a deal until one specially busy morning where he couldn’t make it to your first training, he went on looking for you… And he couldn’t find you.

He went to your room, your favorite places; he went looking all around the city, praying to find you just jumping above some buildings. But you were nowhere to be found. And it wasn’t until one Peter took mercy on him that pointed the worst place to be pointed: The training center.

With his heart going a thousand miles per hour, he started to look for you inside the complex. And when he caught a glimpse of Jessica looking up with a proud smile, he knew exactly where you were.

“She’s doing even better than I could’ve imagined. You’re a great mentor, Miguel.”

“Why is she here?” He answered immediately. Jess raised an eyebrow at him, confused by the uneasiness on his voice.

“Does that really matter? Look at her, Miguel!” She pointed at you with her extended hand. “Aren’t you proud of her?”

Of course he was. But what he couldn’t stand was someone else messing and taking choices over the one and only thing he has. So instead of answering her question, he sentenced: “Don’t ever get close to her again.”

“Miguel…”

“You can mess around with any other, but there is a fucking line, Jess. You chose yours, and I respect them. Don’t mess with mine.”

When he finally appeared in front of you, you smiled brightly at him. He looked like any other day, completely unfazed and with a calmed expression you were so used to see by now.

“Time to call it a day, don’t you think?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You were sweating, you arms were trembling and you could barely control your breath by now, and still… You shook your head.

“I want to try this level one last time.” He was ready to talk you out of it but your pleading eyes made him look down at Jess, who, with a single movement, made him understand what she was talking about.

“Fine, but I’ll be with you every step of the way, got it?” His frustration made you giggle when you nodded.

You didn’t make it till the end of the level, but you tried, and that was all that mattered to you. To Miguel, having been able to take you to the wall before you crashed against a crystal under you was the main thing that mattered.

It had been a whole experience, but it remained like that. Enough time at least for him to push his way of react behind him. Until something made it snap again.

His eyes fly to all of the cameras in front of him, fixing his pupils in whatever screen he could catch a glimpse of your suit.

The threat they were expecting for your first mission ended up being a lot more aggressive and capable than hoped. You and your partner had already received a few good hits by the time Miguel reached for the Call button.

“How are you?” Is the first thing you hear when you press ‘answer’.

“Never better.” You reply, smiling at the interface of your pretty boss clenching his jaw.

“Need help?”

You immediately shake your head. “Not at all, we’re managing just fine.” Your figure distorts while you swing around. Heavy steps following you up close. “I gotta go, Miguel. See you back at home.”

“No, wai-…” He widens his eyes, trying to reach you before you end the call. His fists tighten and his eyes close, fighting to keep himself calm.

But our man can’t catch a break, because as soon as his breath starts to get back to its normal speed, a camera showing on one of the screens burst out with a big clatter, forcing his eyes open only to see his worst fear take form in front of him.

You were struggling against the anomaly, kicking your feet in the air and trying desperately to get his hands off your neck. Your partner was nowhere to be seen. You appear to lose you patience when you stop fighting and instead shoot webs to the creature’s eyes. The anomaly maddens, and throws you against the next building on the street.

Miguel's eyes follow your body across two cameras, watching in horror the blood dripping from your mouth when you cough after the blow, struggling to get on your feet again.

His hands move quicker than he can process, bringing all the information about the Earth you were on for him to see.

“Miguel.” Jessica calls from behind.

“Where the hell did you send her?” He whispers, reading the screen displayed. “I told you she wasn’t ready to go.”

“Miguel, look.” She insists, this time with a more demanding voice.

But the man can’t think of anything else more than you bleeding. Alone and injured.

“You said it was an easy one.” He growls in a low and dangerous voice.

“I’m…”

“I told you she wasn’t ready!” He snaps, looking back at her. His fangs pinch on his lower lip, so hard he can feel a drop of scarlet liquid running down his chin.

And it’s not until Jess takes a step back and Lyla calls his name that he realizes the way his claws had ripped the metal in front of him.

And then… A call.

He blinks out of his trance, looking up at the screen with your name on it. He hits ‘answer’ and your dirty suit and scratched face make an appearance.

His red eyes relax at the sight, returning to those soft brown irises and dark pleased pupils reserved only for you. He hides his fangs and his claws are no longer nowhere to see. Just you. It was just you again. And you were okay.

“Miguel, look!” You smile at him, pointing the camera on your watch for him to see your partner finishing to tie up the anomaly. “We got it!”

“Yeah, yeah, I see.” He can’t help but let out a small glimpse of a smile over his lips, nodding at your excitement.

“Oh, you’re smiling. Wait for me to come back, I wanna see it in person.” And just like that, his smile is gone.

“Don’t take any longer. Both of you, come back as soon as possible.”

And with that, the call is ended once again, leaving him in a room with heavy air and thick silence. He jumps off of the platform, still glaring at Jessica in silence.

“You know that wasn’t right.” She whispers. “The way you’re acting it isn’t right, Miguel.”

He shakes his head, slowing his movements until he remains still just a few feet away from the entrance.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” He murmurs.

“Oh, now I don’t know?!” She opens her mouth with indignation, but Miguel doesn’t alter.

“It’s not like that and you know it.” He hisses. “I have lost everything in this world. I am utterly alone. And even between us, there a strings that doesn’t tangle. You have a husband and a soon to come baby, a family that awaits for you at home, but what do I have, Jess?”

The woman, for the first time, remains silent.

“I have her. I only have her.” He says. “Not a single thing in this world belongs to me but her. Everything else have been taken away from me, everything I once had has disappeared: my job, my life, my normal life. If she’s ripped from my hands, I have nothing left. And I cannot keep fighting for a life I don’t want to live. This is not only for her, Jess. If I lose her, I will tear the universe apart with my own hands.”

A single shiver ran down her spine, watching Miguel exiting the complex to find you arriving almost at the same moment.

She watched how his threat takes meaning when you wrap your arms around him and his eyes brighten at the sound of your laugh.

She knows that if they ever were to lose that light, the whole multiverse would dim with them.

Miguel wanted to own you.

He wasn’t good at hiding it.

His hands would come to your hips, grabbing your tights or caressing your waist under your clothes.

Your scent would drive him into his animalistic side at every given moment. Until the point he would have to step meters away from you during the meetings in order to keep himself from the smell of your hair and your soft skin.

But when he didn’t keep himself from you, he would come from behind you, embracing you with his whole body. His face would bury in the curve of your neck, sending shivers with his tongue coming out, tracing a single line till reaching your ear, where he would whisper what he wants, where he would ask you to let him touch you.

When you say yes, he would drop his head and sink your fingers on your tender skin, pressing his hips against your body when you throw your head back, allowing him to do as he wished so with you, to mark you as his as many times as he wanted.

“Miguel…” You sigh this time, feeling his hands clinging at your suit, desperate to touch your skin instead.

He had just returned from a mission that had kept him away from you three days. You had imagined he would’ve returned tired and ready to sleep for fifteen hours, but instead he took you straight into his bedroom and pushed you against the wall, where he now holds you still with both of his arms.

“Take it off.” He whispers, tugging again at your suit. He was being nice this time, and you thank him internally for that. You don’t have the strength to ask Lyla for another suit.

You complain with a happy humming, letting your body fully exposed before him except for your panties still covering your ass and pussy.

The man switches off his own suit, letting you see up close the tent under his boxers. His fingers grasp at your thighs, forcing your legs open for him. Two of his digits run along your folds over your panties for around ten seconds before he decides to tore away your undergarment and place his hand back at your sex.

You would have complained about his behavior but his fingers pressing down on your clit rip only a moan out of your throat. He plays with your sensitive bundle until you’re wet and seconds away from an orgasm he pretends to steal away when he stops his movements.

“No, please…” You cry out, your legs threatening to give up.

“Shhh, patience, mi amor, I’m not done yet.” With one hand he pushes you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his neck for support before he starts eating you out like a starved man.

You tighten your tights around his head, almost screaming at your over sensitive pussy being stimulated even more, with his tongue pushing in and out for a while until he takes it to your clit again, sucking in, ripping another hard cry out of you. You are so close. And when he finally joins in two of his fingers to curve inside of you, it’s your end.

You scream his name, clenching around his digits, making him growl enough to feel the vibration running down your skin. He guides you through all of it until you finally seem to catch your breath again.

But then, he takes out his fingers and drops his boxes to the floor. His dick throbbed painfully, making him hiss when he stroke it a few times before pressing against you, chest to chest, and bottoming out all the way with a single thrust.

“Fuck, Miguel!” You throw your head back as he does the contrary, sinking his fangs into your skin, trying not to lose control.

“May I move?” He asks, breathing heavily on your skin.

You nod.

“Yes, yes, please move.” He groan in pleasure at your words, starting to move your hips in and down to match the rhythm of his.

You wrap your arms around his neck, moaning sweetly against his ear while he pick up the pace. Soon enough, only the sound of skin slapping on skin could be heard around you, with nothing but your moans and gasps indicating him where he had to thrust, and his deep growls showing you how close he was.

“Cum for me.” He says, pushing your back back to the wall with his hand around your neck, squeezing you under his fingers. “I wanna see you cum.” He demands, making of his pace nothing but a mess of thrusts.

He was so close, he just needed…

“Miguel!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting out desperate whimpers when your legs tremble around him and your walls clench around his cock, sending him so high he has to bite you again to avoid a throaty moan escape from him.

You could barely begin to feel your toes again when you feel him tightening his grip around you before walking out to the bed.

He was ready for the next round.

…

Thank you so much for coming all this way!

PD: I know Miguel fangs have paralyzing venom but let’s just pretend he can choose when to use it and when don’t.

This might not be good but I had the idea of this thread of story and I just wanted to write it.

I hope you have at least enjoyed some of it.

Love y’all. Sending a lot of love. See ya. <3

PD2: I’m trying to work now on a Sub!Miguel thing. It may be still a couple of days from it, but I want to be good. And I haven’t decided if it would be just porn or porn with plot. So let me know!

PD3: I’ll be doing cleaning and correction between today and tomorrow.

#miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut

[valeskafics]

"Karma" - Felix Catton x Reader

a/n: from an anon request for felix with ollie's gf! 🩷

Summary: You and Felix give Oliver what's coming to him.

TW: infidelity (ollie cheated first though), profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, size kink if you squint, semi public sex, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral f receiving

Word Count: 2,260 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Saltburn characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

The entire time he’s at Ollie’s birthday party, Felix’s mind is reeling. How could he have misjudged Oliver so badly? How could he have let himself be played for a complete and utter fool? He’s angry at Oliver, but in truth? Felix is more angry at himself than anyone else. He takes a sip from the bottle in his hand, glancing out at the crowd. It’s funny, he muses. Oliver likely doesn’t know anyone here aside from him and his family. These are all Felix’s friends. Venetia’s friends. Their parents’ friends. No one is actually here for Oliver.

Except, maybe, you. He sees you, standing and looking out at the hedge maze, wearing a pair of angel wings, not dissimilar to his, and a little white dress that shows off your incredible figure. All thoughts of Oliver - and India, who is currently hanging off Felix’s arm - leave the boy’s mind as he crosses the way to get to you. Your lips are wrapped around a cigarette, and he watches, utterly fascinated as you take a drag.

“Hi, there. You a friend of Oliver’s?”

You turn to face him, exhaling the smoke, a rueful smile on your pretty face, “You don’t know who I am?”

He gives you a lazy smile, eyes tracing every inch of your face as he commits it to memory, “Other than the most beautiful girl at this party?”

You laugh, a bitter, humorless laugh, that somehow still keeps Felix completely transfixed, “It seems Ollie really does like to keep his secrets.” You look up at Felix, telling him your name before adding, “Oliver’s girlfriend.”

Felix is frozen. A deer in headlights. He runs a hand through his hair, considering what you’ve just told him, mulling over your words before finally answering.

“He… He never mentioned having a girlfriend.”

“I’m not surprised,” you hum, leaning against the bannister, “It seems he made fools of us both. Sometimes I wonder if he’s even human.”

Your words strike a chord with Felix. He’s been wondering the same thing himself, all day now. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, the wistful expression on your face, the moonlight shining on you all serving to make you look like exactly what you’re dressed as. An ethereal angel.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Since Year 10,” Felix’s eyes go wide at your words, “Thought he was just busy with uni. But here he is, living a lie. Not even mentioning me once. I only even knew about this party because his mum called me up after the two of you left. So, here I am. One train ride later, an uninvited guest at my own boyfriend’s fucking birthday party.”

And there it is. The sadness in your voice that peeks through no matter how well you try to hide it behind your sardonic attitude. And it awakens something in Felix. An instinct to protect you. An instinct to save you from the relationship you’ve found yourself in.

“Uninvited?” Felix shakes his head, “You’re a welcomed guest, believe me.”

You give him a small smile, putting out your cigarette. You rest your chin on your hand, gazing up at him through your lashes, the sight of which has his heart pounding against his ribcage. You’ve got to be the most gorgeous girl he’s ever met. How could Oliver have neglected to mention he was dating an actual goddess?

“I don’t think I caught your name.”

Felix clears his throat, giving you a charming smile, “Felix Catton. And despite the circumstances, I’m glad to meet you.” He pauses before adding, “You… Oliver’s an idiot for not appreciating what he has.”

“Thank you, Felix,” you murmur, the way his name rolls off your lips giving him goosebumps, “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Would you…” He trails off, “Like to get to know each other better? I’m not as bad as Oliver, but I can be a bit of an insensitive prick. Just fair warning. But I-”

“I doubt you can be any worse than the boys I already know,” you grin at him playfully, looking almost like a little kitten as your nose wrinkles in time with your smile.

Felix grins at you, “Oh, I bet all the boys you know adore you. Bet you have them all wrapped around your pretty little finger.”

You glance back, where Oliver still hasn’t noticed you, letting out a sigh. Felix notices immediately, and wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and comfort you. You’re too beautiful to look this sad.

“Almost all of them.”

“He’s clearly missing out,” Felix’s voice is soft, a soothing, low timbre as he speaks, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder at Oliver, who’s busy trying to make nice with Venetia, “You’re… Honestly, you’ve managed to be more interesting in this one conversation than every one I’ve had with Oliver combined.”

You give him a cheeky smile, raising your champagne flute as if to make a toast, “To Oliver Quick then. For bringing us together if nothing else.”

Felix bites his lip and grins, clinking his bottle against your glass, “To Oliver. May he get every bit of karma that he deserves.”

A cheshire catlike grin spreads across your face at his words, and once again, Felix finds himself taken aback by how fucking pretty you are. There’s an effortless grace about you, a charisma he’s seldom seen in others. The people he surrounds himself with, Oliver included, are… Empty, in a way. But not you. You’re full of wit, of life. And he’s halfway through to being in love with you when you give him that smile.

“I have an idea of how we might serve a little karma up to him ourselves.”

Felix smiles at you, leaning in close, “And what might that be, angel?”

The nickname has the desired effect. Your smile turns into something less sharp. Something more genuine. And it’s beautiful. He moves to brush his fingertips against yours, butterflies in his stomach when you don’t move away and instead, intertwine your fingers with his own.

“It’s easier if I show you.”

The two of you glance over at Oliver, waiting for him to look your way. And when he does? His lips part in shock at the sight of the two of you, standing around, chatting like old friends. Oliver begins to make his way toward the two of you, hellbent on spewing some more lies to cover his own ass. But you and Felix? Neither of you are particularly interested. Not when you have more important things on your mind. You plant a lingering tease of a kiss on Felix’s lips, enough to give him a taste of you, but keeping him wanting more. He’s completely infatuated as you pull away and give him a sweet little smile.

“Can I take you somewhere? Promise you’ll like it.”

The hedge maze at Saltburn affords you and Felix more privacy than the noisy party just a few hundred yards away. He leads you by the hand, his palm large and warm against your own. It’s strange. The two of you have only met just now, but the thought of you letting go of his hand makes Felix’s chest ache. You follow him into the maze, giggling as he pushes you up against one of the walls, the shrubbery tickling your back. You stand on your toes and he leans down, lips meeting in a passionate kiss. You moan against his lips, arms wrapping around his neck as you press your body against his. Felix doesn’t think this is even about getting even with Oliver anymore, and he’s quite sure it’s the same for you.

When you break apart for air, he leads you further into the maze, laughing when you remark dryly, “This is like a horror film or something. The Shining.”

“I think it’s a romance story,” Felix smirks at you, stopping in his tracks. He traces your lower lip with his thumb, watching your eyes flutter at the sensation, “Girl is mistreated by boy. Girl meets a boy who will worship her the way the other never could.”

You gaze up at him, laughing softly, “I like your story better.”

He grins, the two of you continuing through the maze, his arm wrapped around you, before you finally reach its center. You lean back against the statue, allowing Felix to hold you close. His form dwarfs yours as he towers over you, crowding you against the statue, lips moving to your neck. He nips at your earlobe, his breath fanning against your skin as he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down to your chest. You laugh as he lifts you up against the statue, your arms and legs wrapped around him, his forehead resting against yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” Felix murmurs, gazing into your eyes, “He was an idiot for not appreciating you.”

Your lips meet his as he rocks his hips against yours. His jeans feel rough against the soft flesh of your thighs as you grind against each other, the bulge in his pants feeling so hard and heavy against you. You feel him move your panties aside, burying two of his fingers knuckle-deep inside your pussy. Your head falls back against the statue, eyes rolling back in your head as he pumps the digits in and out of you, excruciatingly slow. From the corner of your eye, you see Oliver approaching the two of you, but your pleasure-addled mind doesn’t even seem to register his presence.

All you can think of is Felix. His fingers curving as he moves them in and out of you, rubbing up against your sweet spot. He swallows your moans with a kiss, your pussy squeezing around his fingers so fucking tight. You’re so perfect. So fucking perfect. He glances back over his shoulder and gives Oliver a lazy grin, angling himself so that his former friend can see his fingers disappear inside you over and over and over.

Oliver looks as though he’s sucked on a lemon when you cry out Felix’s name, spilling yourself all over his fingers.

Felix coos in your ear, “You were so good, baby, so fucking good for me. Did you see we have a little bit of an audience?”

You giggle softly as he pushes his fingers into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the digits as you taste your essence. When he pulls them out, you finally acknowledge your ex boyfriend as he lurks in the corner.

“You made me come so much harder than Ollie ever did. Need your cock so bad, Felix.”

Ignoring Oliver calling out both your names, Felix undoes his jeans, groaning as he sheathes himself inside your tight, wet pussy, your walls clenching around him like a fucking vice. You whine softly, fingers tangling in his hair as he begins to rut against you. The moonlight shines down on both of you, and Oliver stares in a strange combination of fascination and anger. The two most beautiful people he’s ever seen, the only two he’s ever truly loved, having had enough of him and finding solace in each other.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as Felix fucks you relentlessly, his lips grazing across your throat as he murmurs what a good fucking girl you’re being for him, how your cunt is so fucking perfect, how he thinks he could die happy if he was balls deep inside you. His words stoke the fire in your belly as you gaze into his soft brown eyes, half-lidded and filled with lust. You whimper softly as his thrusts grow more and more erratic, feeling the fat head of his cock rubbing against that spot that has your toes curling your eyes fluttering.

“Want to taste you so bad next time,” Felix rasps against your ear, “Will you let me taste that pretty little pussy, darling?”

You nod eagerly, walls fluttering around him as you near your peak, “Yes, Felix, fuck, want to feel your tongue on me, oh God…”

He gives one, two more thrusts, spilling himself against your stomach, dropping to his knees. You stare at him, confused for a moment, before he moves one of your legs to dangle over his shoulder as he mouths at your pussy. You whine pathetically, eyes locking with Oliver’s as Felix devours you. Oliver glares before storming away, the sounds of your pleasure echoing in his ears. Felix’s tongue moves against your soft flesh, tasting you, savoring every moment of it. You’re so fucking perfect, he thinks to himself as you spill yourself on his tongue, your sweetness tasting even better than he imagined.

The two of you slump down to the floor, his hand on your thigh as you chuckle breathlessly, “We showed him.”

“We did,” Felix grins before asking, “I… You have every right to walk away after this. Never want to see me again. But I… I’d love to keep seeing you. No girl has ever made me feel the way you do. And I’d really like to give this a shot.”

“I go to LSE,” you remark, “Bit of a commute.”

“I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”

You bite back a smile, handing him your phone, “Put your number in, Felix.”

He grins like a giddy little school boy talking to his first crush, grabbing the device from you and inputting his contact information.

What started out as an attempt to serve some karma? 

It turned into something beautiful.

#felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton #felix catton fic #felix catton smut #jacob elordi #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #felix catton fanfic #my writing #felix oneshot

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fic #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar

[distantdarlings]

BY THE FIREPLACE // t. nott

RATING: PG-13 / 2.9K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* You have been an Animagus for around a year now. You have quite a knack for learning everything you need to know about it quickly and Professor McGonagall really likes you. However, a fellow classmate, Theodore Nott, does not like you. And you couldn't care less. Both of you are in for a surprise when you accidentally meet in the library. (Fluff?, sort of Comedy)

+ WARNINGS - Language, nothing else really

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Fantasy - Mariah Carey (don't judge me)

---

“And, ladies and gentlemen, please remember: ten inches of parchment on the side effects of incorrectly transfiguring a toad back into a human!”

Professor McGonagall’s voice pierced the slight murmuring that had started amongst the crowd of students. You suppressed a groan at the assignment, knowing well enough that you’d be putting it off as long as possible. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful to be here, it was just rambling on about the properties of toad warts left over on humans after unfortunate experiments didn’t really get you going, at least, not like they did Professor McGonagall. 

You had found a kind of special liking for her after you had put yourself through the very exciting—albeit brutally difficult—process of becoming an Animagus. It had been your absolute dream since accidentally discovering that your mother was also one. You had been wandering around the garden during the summer between first and second year and had come across an absolutely beautiful doe. You had stopped in your tracks, taken aback by the creature’s beauty. Just as you were going to hold your hand out to the creature and offer it some of the grass blades clutched in your fingers, the creature before you changed entirely. Its long, graceful body curled into a small flash of light and then, without so much as a breath, your mother was back. Standing in the place of the deer. You could hardly believe your eyes.

Your mother was an Animagus and you thought you should be as well. She had warned you of the difficulties and hardships of the process and how annoying it was to have to get registered with the Ministry of Magic but you didn’t care. The wonder that had been in your eyes when you’d seen your mother transform surpassed all the cons of becoming one. You were going to be just like her. And now you were. Well…sort of. You were an Animagus but, much to your disappointment, you did not transform into a beautiful doe. You were a cat. Not a sleek black cat or a graceful Sphinx. No. You were a large, overgrown, long-haired European Maine Coon. At least, that’s what you were pretty sure you were. You hadn’t exactly performed a DNA test on your Animagi identity. You wondered if that would even work. 

The crowd of students urged you towards the door and out into the grand hallway just outside the Transfiguration classroom. The light poured through the gorgeously carved stained glass windows along the stone walls and illuminated everything in its wake. You absolutely adored the castle and its beauty and reckoned you didn’t stop and admire it as often as you should. 

A body bumped into you roughly, nearly making you lose the books clutched in your arms. You gasped at the sudden shock that went through your body when you realized you’d nearly missed a step down the staircase, your heart dropping through your ribcage.

“Hey,” you shouted. “Want to watch where you’re bloody going?”

The culprit turned with an annoyingly charming smile printed on his lips. His darkened eyes found yours amusedly and sent you a single wink. Your blood boiled.

“Sorry, darling, I’m in quite a rush,” he smirked.

“Doesn’t mean you can break through crowds like a giant,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. “Maybe you should take a second to think about the other people in this school and not just yourself for once, Nott.”

“Bite me, love.” 

Asshole. You watched the back of his head disappear amongst the rest of the students as they waded around you as if you were an island in the midst of an ocean. You could not stand that boy. He and his stupid friends had been nothing if not the most obnoxious people you’d ever met. Even from your first day, he was rude, loud, and annoying. No matter how handsome he was, he couldn’t just steamroll over people. And yet, because he wasn’t ugly in the slightest, everyone just let him do whatever he wanted. Him and all his friends. It made you so angry. 

Your eyes found your watch. You probably—erm, definitely, needed to get started on the paper for McGonagall’s class. That’s what pointed your feet toward the direction of the library. The thoughts of the warm hearth and those plush green chairs that hovered around it were calming the worries for this assignment. The library was—in your opinion—one of the most comfortable areas in the entire castle. It oozed comfort and warmth, much like your dorm room. It just felt soothing. You had noticed the amount of time you were spending in there was increasing as the days got colder. The fireplace in the dorms and common room were just as warm, of course, but those areas tended to be more populated during the day. And if you were going to get this paper done, you likely shouldn’t be surrounded by friends. You could be quite talkative when it came down to it—especially when it came down to procrastinating an assignment. 

One of the large wooden doors to the library came into view slowly as you sauntered down the stairs just before the entrance. You could practically feel the warmth radiating from the vast room. Sweetened chills broke out over your arms and a small shudder passed down your spine. You clutched your books a bit tighter to your chest as you pushed past the threshold and felt the warmth on your skin. 

You smiled gently as you made your way toward your usual fireplace. The smile on your face seemed to grow exponentially as you realized nobody was even in the general vicinity of your favorite spot and…thank Merlin…the tea cart had been brought around. The silvered, intricately designed cart that the librarian left out for wandering and cramming students sat right beside the fireplace. On it sat a few tea cups, a large, enchanted teapot that filled itself back up as soon as it was emptied, two sugar bowls, a large cream pitcher, and a few crumpets and cream horns. You might have died and gone right to the afterlife. 

You set your bags and books in your favorite armchair—the one on the left—and made your way over to the wonderful cart. You shivered in delight as you prepared yourself some tea, just the way you liked it, and grabbed a cream horn—or two. Wandlessly, you conjured the wool blanket that sat upon the foot of your bed and snuggled in amongst the cushions. This was absolutely delightful. Between the tea, the snacks, the warmth, and the dim lighting, your homework was the last thing on your tranquil mind. Your books and bag remained untouched. 

Once finished with your snack and beverage, you found yourself closely watching the curls of flames dance in the fireplace. Soon enough, absolutely without your consent, you were gently lulled to a deep sleep. Your eyes fluttered shut and your breathing stilled, your hands were curled against your chest and your knees were brought up against you. 

-

Theo rounded the corner of the main stairway just before the library. He had an enormous amount of work to do and figured he wouldn’t get anything done if he stayed with his mates. He watched his feet as they jogged down the stone steps, his bag jostling on his shoulder every few moments. 

Once past the doorway, his eyes found that set of green armchairs in the corner just in front of the fireplace. There appeared to be no one in them and he smiled a bit. Hopefully he’d be able to complete all of his work without any interruptions. 

He set his bag down beside the armchair on the right. He reckoned he should start on the paper for McGonagall’s class since it was likely going to be the most difficult way. He should probably just get it out of the way, then everything else would be a breeze. 

As he began to rummage through his bag for the appropriate materials to get started, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A white wool blanket lay spread across the other armchair and an empty tea cup, plate, and school bag were discarded beside it. He figured someone had been working there only moments ago and had slipped away for a quick bathroom break or something of the like. A groan began to build up in his throat as he realized he likely wasn’t going to be alone after all. Whatever…as long as they were quiet. 

Finally, his fingers brushed his quill set and the Transfiguration book. He pulled everything out and settled himself in the chair, preparing to get to work. A thought popped into his head as he spread everything out comfortably. He wondered who had been sitting there. If it was someone he didn’t know, he’d likely have no issue ignoring them. He kind of hoped it was none of his friends, though he could have sworn he’d seen that bag before. Maybe it was Enzo’s?

An hour or so of straight working went by before Theo came to a pause and set his things aside. He stood from the chair and pulled his body into a sweeping stretch that popped a few joints along the way. He groaned at the pleasurable release, grateful that he wasn’t so stiff anymore. His hands shoved in his trouser pockets and he began shuffling in place to try and work some feelings back into his legs. 

The person who had been there previously, he realized, had never come back. Being as curious as he was, he glanced around the library, spotting only a few fully concentrated students with their heads down. Whose stuff was this? He nonchalantly wandered over to the items and squatted down next to the bag. He picked it up gently and rolled the fabric around in his hands. He wasn’t trying to be too nosy, just wanted to see if there were any embroidered initials or names. Quickly, he flipped the top flap open only to discover a messily scrawled name imprinted over the white tag near the top of the bag. It was, much to his dismay, your name. That obnoxiously uptight girl in his Transfiguration class. Every day, in and out, rubbing everyone’s nose in the fact that you were bloody awesome at McGonagall’s class and everyone else was just shit. He wondered if you were cheating or doing some favors for other students. No way you were that good at that boring class. 

A slight movement out of the corner of his eye shocked him away from the bag. His hands frantically dropped the material and he backed away quickly, not wanting to be caught snooping. Yet, he saw nothing. He glanced around wildly trying to find the culprit of the movement but not seeing anything. He could’ve sworn he—

Another movement. From the center of the white blanket. A cat. A rather large one, at that. Yawning slightly and stretching its little limbs out. His heart nearly melted. 

“Aw,” he smiled, “hello there, love. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

He slowly slid his hand over the edge of the chair’s cushion and rubbed the back of his first two fingers over your head. Unbeknownst to him and your sleepy state, both were blissfully unaware of who was touching whom. You yawned once more and curled into his touch. He laughed softly at the movement and began petting your head with a full hand. A deep rumbling purr radiated from your chest at his movements. 

You weren’t sure what about this dream was so real, but bloody hell was it comforting. An unknown character in your dream was ever so gently sliding a hand over your head and occasionally scratching under your chin. Maybe it felt odd for them to do that, but it was so relaxing you didn’t care.

He stood back up and gently scooped your curled figure up, keeping the blanket wrapped softly around you. He took a seat in your armchair and placed you on his lap. His fingernails ever so slightly scratched over your head and smoothed the hair along your back. Your thick, bushy tail curled lovingly against his chest ever so often. 

Something that you didn’t know and something that Theo didn’t know, either, was that you had the subconscious tendency to transform into your Animagi identity when sleeping. Whether as part of a dream or mumbling in your sleep, every once and a while, you would slip down to your smaller self and remain curled up as such. It had been going on for a couple of months now and you had yet to notice it. Your roommates most definitely had but they had said nothing as they assumed it was a purposeful action. They figured it would be nice to sleep as a cat as well. 

The purring emanating from your soft chest rolled against his leg as he continued to brush his fingers through your fur. Your head occasionally curled further into his stomach at these gentle actions. This might have been the most relaxing dream you’d ever had. 

“Hey, man, been looking everywhere for—”

“Shush!” Theo berated the loud voice. Mattheo came around the back of the armchair with a look of confusion plastered on his face. He glanced down to see the feline stretched across his lap, an eyebrow raised.

“The baby is sleeping,” Theo whispered, smiling gently. His hands never stopped brushing you. 

“Did you find him—?”

“Oh my god, shhhhh!” Theo repeated. Pansy and Enzo followed the same path that Mattheo had. And just like him, their eyebrows cocked awkwardly. All three of them glanced at the other.

“I told all of you I was going to the library to get some homework done,” Theo whispered.

“Yeah, it sure looks like you’re getting a ton done,” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“I was...,” Theo insisted, “before this baby wandered up. Isn’t she just the cutest?”

“Yeah, adorable,” Mattheo mocked, a smile building its way onto his face. “I’d love to have McGonagall Jr. sat on my lap, if you know what I mean.”

Enzo and Pansy’s faces blended from blank to confusion to realization to stifled laughter. Theo was extremely confused and becoming a little irritated. 

“Ew, what is that supposed to mean? I don’t think all cats are related to Professor McGonagall—wait, she’s not even really a cat, she can turn into one. I don’t think she’s really related to any cats,” Theo argued.

“Yeah, man—not what I meant,” Mattheo laughed. His two companions began to laugh with him. “Whose bag and stuff is that?”

Theo glanced down at the bag and snack plate that had been left behind as he refrained from rolling his eyes. He probably shouldn’t admit he knew who the stuff belonged to as he totally figured it out by snooping, but they didn’t necessarily have to know that.

“That’s that really irritating girl that’s in McGonagall’s with us, you know? The one I ran into this morning and was like ‘Why don’t you watch where you’re going, blah, blah,’ do you remember?” Theo spoke.

“Yeah, I remember,” Enzo giggled. “It’s almost like she's still in the room with us.”

“I know, that’s her stuff,” he nodded in the direction of the things left behind. “I was wondering when she was going to come back and get it but it’s been like an hour and she hasn’t come back.” Theo shrugged and returned his focus back to you who still remained curled comfortably in his lap. His thumb brushed over your closed eyes and ears. 

“Did she ever leave?” Pansy laughed. “Maybe she's still here.”

“Maybe so, I didn’t go looking for her, though,” Theo responded, brushing a finger down the slope of your nose.

“Yeah, she was acting kind of catty earlier,” Enzo spoke. The three students burst out laughing, clutching their stomachs and flicking tears from their eyes. Anger rose up the side of Theo’s neck.

“What is your deal? Is something funny? Anybody want to fill me in on the joke?” he asked. They remained laughing as hard as they could, almost as if they wanted to annoy Theo further.

“Whatever, me and my new friend are going to study elsewhere. At least she doesn't laugh at me,” he harrumphed and grabbed his things, keeping you cradled tightly in your blanket in his right arm. The three students didn’t stop laughing the whole way as Theo stomped off, taking you with him, and touching his nose to yours with a smile. 

“Oh, Merlin,” Pansy chuckled, a tear falling from her eyes. “So we all knew that she's an Animagus, right?”

“Yeah, she told me last year when her acceptance letter from the Ministry came in. She was pretty excited about it.” Enzo struggled not to start laughing again. “She's really nice and really smart, I think Theo can be a bit much sometimes.”

“Yeah, I agree with that….” Pansy responded. There was a few moments of silence before Mattheo tilted his head towards the other two.

“So, we’re sticking around for when she wakes up and realizes she's sitting on Theo’s lap wrapped up in a blanket like a child, right?” he laughed. The other two chorused a variety of ‘yes’ and ‘absolutely,’ as they made themselves comfortable at a table near the one Theo had assigned as his. This was quite possibly going to be the best thing that ever happened.

Part Two!

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #reader insert #slytherin #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott #enzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #pansy parkinson #gender neutral reader

[edenavari]

On the Matter of Mirrors

Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else. 

‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed. 

But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right? 

“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps. 

They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.

All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him. 

“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.

He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger. 

“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts. 

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”

“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again. 

“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”

Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”

It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”

“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope. 

Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic. 

Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested. 

His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss. 

He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life. 

The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief. 

Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”

A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute. 

“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge. 

Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own. 

“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.

“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly serious. 

“You should forget all about Nancy.”

Steve frowns too. “That so?”

“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”

“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats. 

“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget. 

When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.

Give us a kudos, if ye dare x

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie oneshot #first kiss

[vibingandsimping]

Who else loves random descriptions of intimate positions?

Me, I do. I am incredibly touch starved. Anyways-

Main good route companions + random intimate positions! Pt. 1

All of you villain/evil route lovers, you will be fed soon. (I am one of them)

Forewarnings: Suggestive content, fluff and not proofread

Astarion loves to hook your leg over his shoulder as he kisses you. One hand crawling up that leg from the hip, to the thigh and to the calf. His nails trailing and leaving a tickling grace in it’s wake. You shudder at the touch and squirm a little. He relishes in that and you can feel his cheeky smirk against your lips. You gasp as he nips your lower lip with his fangs. He takes that chance and deepens the kiss between you two.

Wyll intertwines your fingers in both hands. Presses them on the ground up by your head as his mouth lavishes your neck. You can feel his breath against your earlobe and it makes you shiver. His legs trap your thighs and you’re laid beneath him as he stares at you. His gaze speaks only admiration. It’s so intense- and raw. He whispers sweet nothings as he kisses you. You’re sure to find some marks he left on you in the morning.

Lae’zel hooks her leg around your hip. You’re kissing on her chest as her fingers place upon your head. Her little gasps and whimpers are quiet- muffled. She’s trying to conceal how much she enjoys this as ever the strong woman she is. You dig your fingers painfully into her waist and she groans unabashedly this time. You hum approvingly before she takes the reigns. You turned this into a challenge.

Shadowheart loves to place her head on your thighs. No matter how small or large. You can feel her hair tickle your skin, the braid held in one hand as you run along the length of it. Her eyes are closed contently as she savors the warmth you emit. It’s almost unnoticeable the way her fingers gently creep up the outside of your thigh. Not until she’s placed her palm on it and squeezes. There’s a smirk on her face as she continues to feign innocence.

Karlach has your head placed on her chest as she lays. You can hear the infernal engine working under her ribcage. It’s mechanical and unnatural… but the heat she radiates comforts any sort of unease you have. Her hand strokes your head and neck as you bury into the soft flesh of her breasts. There’s a laugh that rocks her body, seemingly amused by how you snuggled into her. You laugh with her too, pressing a gentle kiss against the glowing part of her skin.

Gale wraps your legs around his hips and you instinctively lock your ankles together. His hands slide under your thighs towards your rear, cupping it as he holds your hips in the air. He gazes at you with warm brown eyes as he lowers his head. He plants kisses from the center of your chest down to your stomach. His teeth occasionally nip as his tongue darts out to taste the flesh. He does so until he reaches your pelvis before retracing his steps. Once he reaches your chest, he parts and meets your lips this time.

Halsin holds you in his arms as he stands. You feel weightless in his grasp, even if you’re bigger. Despite his size- people still seem to underestimate how strong he is. He kisses you tenderly as he wraps his arms protectively around you. You’re enveloped in him as his scent washes over you. It smells like forest dew and wild-berries with a hint of his natural musk. He whispers in your ear about how you’re the finest creation nature could bestow him with.

Jaheira seems to regard you almost like porcelain. She’s an older elf and it’d been over a century since she had a lover. Fighting Ketheric Thorm and surviving the curse was her purpose for years. She holds you like you’re going to vanish. Arms linked around your waist and legs tangled in yours. Her nose presses against your skin and she breathes in your scent. You smile softly as you allow the woman to enjoy your presence and touch. Your fingers tracing shapes onto her shoulder-blades as she relaxes like putty.

Minsc holds you tightly and almost crushes you against his chest. He truly forgets his own strength sometimes as he hums happily. He savors the feeling of your heart thrumming against his skin. When you squirm, he blinks and loosens his grip with an apology. You simply smile and shake your head, telling him it’s alright. He has a guilty look as he watches you carefully. You sigh and crawl up a little to press a kiss against his cheek. Like that, he straightens up and holds you again. He’s more careful this time but the grip is still firm enough to hold you against him. What a gentle giant he is.

#baldurs gate 3 #my thoughts #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate iii #bg3 x reader #astarion x reader #wyll x reader #lae’zel x reader #shadowheart x reader #karlach x reader #gale x reader #halsin x reader #jaheira x reader #minsc x reader #astarion #wyll #shadowheart #gale #halsin #karlach #lae’zel #jaheira #minsc #i’m so soft for them #my writing

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Ever since that running aemond pic came out I've been thinking non stop about his thighs so... would you like to write something involving riding aemond's thigh? I have no other wishes and I totally get it if you think that's not enough of a prompt. You can ignore this if you want but I'd love to see what you can come up with!

You asked for this back in June, I'm so sorry for how long this has taken me. I am a shambles of a human being, truly. I hope you've stuck around long enough to see this!

Warnings: Thigh riding, smut, me playing fast and loose with canon. Word count: ~1.3k

The candle that rests beside her on the reading table burns low as she sits in her and Aemond’s marital chambers. The book that is spread out in front of her, Coming of the Andals, lays unread; her fingers tap anxiously against its pages, as her eyes remain fixed upon the door.

Aemond had been called to a meeting of the Small Council. They both knew why, it has been a long time coming. The injuries that Aegon sustained during the battle of Rook’s Rest have left him bedridden, he is no longer fit to rule, and their grandsire’s capacity for what he can do in his stead has reached its limit. Westeros needs a Targaryen upon the throne, and Aemond is next in line. It is a position she knows that her husband is all too eager to fill.

He ought to be back by now though, it has been hours. The evening grows late, and she has long since sent away her chambermaids, refusing to be readied for bed. She has no desire to sleep until Aemond returns, so she forgoes the comfort of her nightgown, despite longing to unlace the meticulously fastened ribbons that hold her bodice tightly in place against her ribcage.

Tiredness and impatience pluck at her nerves, making her shift irritably in her chair. She startles at a polite rap at the door, if it was Aemond then he would simply walk in, he would not bother to knock. Her brow furrows in confusion as she rises, walking towards the door to open it.

She looks down into the wide eyed anticipation of one of the Keep’s page boys. He clears his throat before speaking.

“Apologies for the disturbance at such a late hour, Princess, Prince Aemond has requested your presence in the throne room.”

She sighs, nodding and bidding the young lad goodnight, before snuffing out the candle and making her way through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards the Great Hall. The walk is long, and she is grateful she has not yet changed into her nightclothes, as the gown she wears does little to keep the chill of the castle air from nipping at her skin. She would feel annoyed at Aemond insisting she come all this way, were it not for the mixture of curiosity and excitement that flutters lightly in her chest.

Pushing open the great oak and bronze doors, her eyes scan the long carpet that stretches the length of the room, up to the high, narrow steps that lead to the raised iron dais. Aemond sits upon the throne. She stands silently as she regards him. His arms rest on either side of the asymmetrical tangle of jagged and twisted blades, long fingers curled around the makeshift armrests.

He is dressed as he was when he had left her earlier that evening; black, leather tunic, black breeches and leather boots, except this time the Conqueror’s crown sits atop his snowy head of hair, the Valyrian steel and rubies gleaming iridescent in the moonlight. He cuts quite the imposing figure as his single eye stares at her impassively.

Slowly, she descends the steps into the Hall, making her way along the carpet, maintaining eye contact with her husband the entire time. His lips quirk, the faintest trace of amusement tugging at their corners as he observes the unhurried pace with which she moves. It is not until she stands before the throne that he bothers to speak.

“It is not polite to keep your King waiting,” he utters quietly.

“Prince Regent,” she corrects him. “And it is not becoming of a King to rouse ladies from their slumber in the middle of the night.”

He huffs through his nose, smirking at her as he leans forward slightly. “You do not appear to be dressed for sleep. I must say, I am disappointed.”

“It is improper for a lady to greet the King in such a state of undress, or is that how you will have all the ladies of the court attend to you?”

“Hmmm. I have not yet decided how I would like you to attend to me. Will you curtsy to me?”

“Never,” she whispers with a playful giggle.

“Such insolence must be met with the King’s justice.”

She takes his hand as he offers it out, gasping as he tugs her forcefully up to him, her knees landing either side of one of his, as she sits against his thigh. Even through her skirts she can feel the unyielding sharpness of the throne beneath them. She steadies herself, placing her hands upon the smooth suppleness of the leather that covers his shoulders.

Aemond grasps her waist with one hand, the other moving to weave itself into her hair, as his eye drinks her in. She allows her gaze to wander to the crown, taking in the way it sinks into the thick silkiness of his hair.

“It suits you,” she says quietly.

“It looks better on me than it ever did on him.”

“And is this what has kept you from our bed?”

“I wanted you to see.”

He flexes his thigh, raising his leg to brush against her clothed core and she sucks in a shaky breath, the sensation causing a jolt that makes her throb with want.

“I would have seen…” she retorts with a slight whine, as the hand holding her waist moves to her hip, gripping it tightly and encouraging her to grind against him.

“Not like this,” he hisses, tugging her head back by her hair and mouthing hotly at her neck.

She moans, her nails digging into his shoulders to ground herself, as she fucks herself against his thigh, aided by the occasional bounce and flex of the muscle from Aemond. The ache between her legs is almost unbearable, the gusset of her smallclothes growing sticky with arousal, as the sensation of his lips upon her flesh makes her shudder.

“This moment is just for us,” he mutters, pushing and pulling her more forcefully against him, encouraging her to move faster. “But we shall have many more like it.”

“Gods, Aemond, please,” she whimpers, insides clenching around nothing as the friction against her aching pearl grows more intense.

“I will fuck a babe into you upon this throne,” he snarls, shifting his hand from her hair to pluck harshly at the lacings of her gown, before tugging down her bodice and wrapping his lips around the peak of her breast.

Arching against him, she buries her hands in his hair, keeping him anchored to her chest. The warmth of his scalp and the softness of the tresses between her fingers are oddly juxtaposed with the hardened coolness of the Valyrian steel that crowns Aemond’s head, but she has little time to dwell upon it.

She cants wantonly against Aemond’s leg, the pressure in her lower belly increasing, aided by the swirl of his wet tongue against her sensitive nipple. When it finally yields, she collapses forward against him with a strangled cry of pleasure, a rush of wetness soaking her smallclothes and leaving a damp patch on the area of her husband’s trousers that she rests against. Warmth cascades over her body, making her feel boneless as she pants for breath and Aemond’s lips release her with a wet pop.

He holds her steady, leaning back to look at her, as a cat might regard a mouse it toys with. His hooded eye roves over her glassy eyes, her parted lips, her bare chest, before he lifts a hand to adjust his crown slightly. “Hmmm. Yes. It makes everything look better.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #pro aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fan fic #hotd #hotd smut #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fic #aemond fan fiction #aemond fanfiction #aemond fanfic

[onsomenewsht]

now playing: What Can I Do

< track 4 || track 6 >

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader, Barcelona Femeni x Reader

》 words count: +2.8k

》 I don't know if you see us how I do in my head

Four years of studying all the finest details of the ways she acts and moves

“She does it on purpose”

Ingrid smiles at your whining, enjoying the easy banter growing day by day between you and her girlfriend. 

But yes, she’s doing it on purpose. All the girls know, and the ones currently in the parking lot with the three of you aren’t even trying to hide their laughs. You recognise Alexia’s soft one without taking your eyes off the defender.

María is going on a rant about all the places you need to see in Madrid since the team is going to play Atlético on the weekend. As if you’re not gonna be free there for a couple of hours and you still understand close to nothing of what she’s saying in the first place.

You have no doubt she insists on speaking exclusively in Spanish just to annoy you, she’s perfectly aware you can’t even order a coffee without the barista trying to hide a giggle at your scrambled words.

“You have to practise, she’s helping”, it’s cute she’s trying to defend her girlfriend.

“She’s a broken record”

As a matter of fact, or just to prove her point, the Spaniard’s voice is a constant background noise - from the walk toward the training centre, all the way through the changing room, and till the first stretching exercises.

You will never accept a ride from the couple, ever again.

“Mapi, give the girl a break! I’m exhausted and I’m not even listening”

You like Keira, Keira is funny in a comfortable way. Ingrid and her are the only ones able to buffer María’s enthusiasm when they notice you get overwhelmed by the language or you’re just too tired to deal with her energy.

“¡Y ni te entiende!” (And she doesn’t even understand you)

“Necesita practicar su Español” (She needs to practise her Spanish)

“She’s still here”, you try to calm your teammates’ excitement as soon as you notice more girls are gathering around you.

They planned a movie night at your place anyway, they will have time and space to bother you all they want later. 

You need to focus on your exercises right now, despite the elegant and defined movements that keep catching your attention on the small training area.

Alexia is stretching just a couple of metres away from you, talking with Marta and Irene while casually controlling a ball with her foot. Somehow, there’s always a football around her.

The punch Mapi directs at your ribcage - powerful, and quite frankly uncalled for - manages to knock the wind out of you, drawing attention and a laugh from your teammates, but a glare from Jonatan. 

The red all over your face is surely due to the blonde’s hit, nothing else.

“Just hit her back”

“And add fuel to the fire?”

“¿Qué?”, Alexia’s eyebrow rises. 

She’s closer to you now, you both like to be at your manager’s left side when he’s explaining the tactics he wants to review as his hands’ gestures are clearer.

You’re going to start the next game, he made an all scene the previous day to let you know that, so you should listen to what he’s saying.

“Nothing. I tried, she gets more annoying”

“María Leon masterclass”

She’s distracting, her smile is lighting up the whole training centre. You definitely have to listen to your manager.

You’re slowly but securely finding your place in this new club. The press is still talking about the fact you came out of nowhere, and the online comments are still questioning if you deserve to be here in the first place.

Your last season in Italy was fun to say the least, managing to stand up against the big ones and earning with your team a place for the Champions League group stage. You were a little disappointed when a loan was hanging over your head once again, but when Barcelona knocks at your door you open the windows too. 

Games spent warming the bench, minutes after minutes, your confidence grows. Your positioning around some of the best players in the world is getting better and easier, the balls you play moving faster and flawlessly. 

You’re finding your place, both on and off the field.

“¿Estás en la luna?”

“Eh?”

The Catalan has to fake a cough to hide her laugh at your confused face, immediately fixing her stoic one and nodding at what Jonatan is saying as if nothing happened.

No need to say you’re matching the red training top, her smile is contagious.

The rest of the session goes on without any more accidents, you need to avoid Mapi and pair with Ingrid or Irene to survive but you manage. Even if most of your passes somehow end up finding a certain blonde in the final scrimmage.

The field is now free of all equipment, your teammates heading toward the changing room. 

All but one.

Alexia’s hanging back, not leaving the training ground with the excuse to collect some of the balls left behind. She doesn’t need to do that, obviously. But she does. She takes the time with each ball, feeling it around her feet and controlling them as second nature. 

You know because you leave the balls around for her.

As the one and only newcomer, you take upon yourself the task of helping the trainers to put the equipment away after each session. You’re happy to do that, it’s a way to become familiar with the place and the people working here. 

You noticed her habit of looking around for some balls before leaving the field so you started to hide a few for her to find.

If she knows, she doesn’t say anything or care.

~

Three years of falling asleep with your hand on her chest, her heartbeat as the only lullaby that can make you rest

Your house is filled with loud Spanish girls, gathered around the living room and screaming at the TV like the people inside the box can actually hear their strong opinions.

This particular dating show is getting largely famous among your teammates, some of them organising watching parties to live comment together. 

It’s Alexia’s turn to host and, surprisingly to no one, she’s actually hosting at your house. 

You’re not even into this show in the first place, they talk too fast for you to understand and you don’t really get who is actually flirting with who. But the relationship with the Catalan is growing so naturally and strongly, also around funny misinterpretation in Spanish and tender touches that linger a bit too long and a bit too frequently to be just friendly, so it feels meant to be. 

“¡No me lo creo, cuando le dio un beso?!” (You’re kidding, when did they kiss?!)

You offered the place without really thinking about it, she’s supposed to spend the night here anyway. How bad could it be to have half a dozen of your friends around for a bit?

“¡Joder, qué cabrón!” (What a fucking asshole!)

“Tiene más cuernos que un rebaño”

“¡Llepaculs!”

Really bad, apparently. 

Jana and Ona are literally jumping on your sofa over something a broad guy just said, definitely the wrong thing given their reaction. Claudia is muttering under her breath all night, you have no idea what she’s actually on about but Patri, sitting on the floor next to her, sometimes bursts out laughing so you let them be. Mapi is on the far side of the sofa, a frown between her eyebrows when she’s not making her opinion loud and clear - Ingrid is out with Frido tonight, that must be it. Even Marta is getting more and more involved in the shenanigans. 

It must be a great episode.

Alexia, on the other hand, is paying no attention to the screen.

You try to let the girls be, entertaining yourself in the kitchen making snacks for them, but every time you excuse yourself the blonde is ready to drag you back, fitting your body between her legs. 

All things considerate, you’re enjoying the show your friends are putting on in your living room. They’re loud and funny and passionate, but they’re also loyal and warm.

Your girlfriend’s hands are warm too, finding their place under the royal blue hoodie you are wearing. Her fingers are drawing patterns on your ribcage, sometimes letters and sometimes abstract figures. She’s not even watching the TV, she’s smiling at the way you’re taking the scenes around you in, and how your body reacts when she’s caressing a particular spot.

Hosting this watching party was such a bad idea.

When another yawn catches you unprepared, you hide your face in the hollow of her neck, a grin spreading on Alexia’s face. You can feel her lighting up.

“Cansada?” (Tired?)

“Too late for Spanish”

“Nunca es un buen momento para ti” (It’s never a good time for you)

“Watch your silly little soap opera and let me sleep, Putellas”

Alexia has to suppress her laugh, catching on to the stress in the room since the episode is coming to an end and no one is happy with the outcome.

She turns your body closer against hers, your friends too distracted to realise you now take most of the couch and you’re practically lying on top of her. The blonde doesn’t mind though, holding you firmly.

When she feels your hand grips her shirt’s front, she knows you’re gone for tonight.

You don’t hear your teammates leaving your house, their disappointment about the episode is easily replaced by teasing of the lovely scene. The Catalan doesn’t need words to scold them, not moving from her position but promising revenge in the next training session. 

Mapi is the last one to leave, taking her time to tease her friend and silently admire how happy and comfortable the two of you look.

“¡Vete María!” (Leave!)

“Estás actuando como el dueño de la casa, ¿lo sabes?” (You’re acting a lot like the owner of the house, you know?)

The red on Alexia’s face is starting to spread and her friend needs to leave before she says something that’s gonna be stuck in the captain’s head.

“Un mal dueño también, no acompañar tu invitados a la puerta” (A bad host too, not even walking your guests out)

It’s a pillow that escorts the defender out, hitting the closing door all the way through your living room.

~

Two years of heading to a future that appallingly looks a lot like the same for the both of you

“¿Quieres un bebé?” (Do you want a kid?)

At Alexia’s question, you almost choke on the glass of wine you’re drinking. 

It’s the off-season, it’s such a beautiful sunny day, it’s a dreamy vacation you gifted each other with. Why is she trying to kill you?

“Right now?”, you manage to find your words, red wine now spread all over your linen shirt. 

She better buy you a new one.

“No, mi amor, not right now”, she hands you her jacket, failing to hide her amusement and her blush.

Her smile is soft and full of affection, and you never loved someone like you love her - even if she almost killed you.

“¿Sólo por curiosidad?” (Are you asking just out of curiosity?)

“You were cute with those girls at the beach”

“I’m always cute with kids”

“Sí, tienes razón” (Yeah, you’re right)

“But?”, you’re getting nervous about where this conversation’s heading.

You just wanted to enjoy a nice date out with your beautiful girlfriend in a fancy restaurant on the other side of the world.

You both deserve some time for each other, last season was exhausting and you both played more minutes than you were supposed to due to her bothering knee and your extra hours both for club and country.

You didn’t see such a conversation coming, you still feel sand on your skin and the sun sparkling in Alexia’s eyes.

“I’m not asking to make a kid tonight”

“We could definitely try though”

“I’m asking if you want kids in the future”, she smiles and she’s playing with her hands like she just confessed stealing candies from said kids.

“Quiero un bebé un día, ya lo sabes” (You know I want a kid one day)

“¿Conmigo?” (With me?)

You reach for her across the table, holding her hand between yours like your entire existence depends on it, on letting her understand how important she is in your life and how much your life together meant for you. 

Alexia looks so insecure you’re almost scared of what’s happening in her mind, she knows you want kids once your career comes to an end and she knows you are in for the long run with her.

“Mírame, mi corazón” (Look at me)

“Mamá y Alba made jokes y noー”

“Quiero un bebé contigo, Alexia” (I want a kid with you)

“Sì?”

“To be honest, I dreamed about a little you running around and kicking a ball barefoot, but then the ball was your Ballon d’Or, and turned into a rocket destroying the entire house, so I didn’t feel like mentioning it”

The waitress interrupting you must sense there’s an important conversation happening, the blonde is giggling with tears in her eyes and you are barely sitting on your chair. He clears the table and nicely suggests the house’s dessert, you nod but ask for a couple of minutes.

“We can start trying tonight”

You love her open laugh.

~

One year of trying to tell yourself that nothing changed about the way you feel of your life here, of your life here with her

Every time you close your eyes you see the ring Alexia’s hiding in a fucking shoe box. 

One time, when she’s away for a photoshoot with a magazine you don’t even remember the name of, you find yourself digging into the closet for the velvet box, unsure of everything.

It fits perfectly, it’s the perfect ring.

You take it off so fast you’re scared you ripped your own finger too.

It’s getting all too much.

You’re sleeping less and when you do, you’re restless and anxious. It doesn’t matter what you cook, it all tastes wrong in your mouth. You’re ignoring your friends and finding lame excuses to avoid nights out that don’t involve all the team.

The only thing you’re able to focus on is football. 

You’re training harder, playing faster and decisively, spending more and more time on the pitch and in the gym, picking up extra training sessions.

You can ignore your mind if your body is louder.

But you love Alexia too much to ignore her.

When she speaks about a contract extension, about how happy she’s to captain the team for another three years and to be recognized for her pivotal role, you listen and match her enthusiasm. You’re so proud of her. You’re proud of what she achieved in Barcelona, what she means for the club and for the city and for the future of the game. 

Even if you’re thinking your time wearing the Blaugrana colours is fading, seeking a new challenge elsewhere to prove you learned from the best ones and you can now play against them.

You’re extending your stay in Barcelona just to be close to Alexia.

When she points out you need to start practising your Catalan too, because she wants your kids to speak her first language and understand her culture, you think it is admirable how strong she feels about her home and her roots. You want that for your kids too.

Even if you miss your home country and sometimes you have to remember you have your own roots and culture and memories, ending up speaking to yourself in the bathroom mirror just to make sure you didn’t forget your own language.

You’re ignoring your homesickness just to be where Alexia’s heart is.

When she shows you how much she loves you and the life you’re living and the future you’re building together, you take all the affection and support and care because you’re so happy you’re still able to give her it all.

Even if you know you’re loving her more than you’re loving your life.

You’re hating yourself just to be in love with Alexia.

There’s not a single doubt about your love for Alexia. You love her the way writers seek the right words for their poems, and sailors fight the worst storms just to get back home, and kids pick the brightest colours for their drawings.

You love her so much that there’s no way you can leave her. 

However, you can’t pretend anymore that Barcelona is your future, this city is not your home and this culture is not yours to feel.

That’s how you find yourself with a one-way flight ticket, running away from the only place you can leave without guilt.

You leave Barcelona because that’s how you’ll find yourself again - how you’ll love yourself again.

You don’t regret leaving Barcelona, you regret losing Alexia in the process.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #barcelona femeni #barcelona femini x reader #woso #ap11 #here we go again #this one was a journey #mistakes all mine #my wo(rd)so #now playing universe #Spotify

[astrophileous]

ANYTHING with jealous Reid <33333

HI ANON ty for the request! I hope you'll like this one 🥰❤️

Warning(s): gn!reader, profanities, jealous spencer, that's it rlly this is mainly just fluff 💞

This blurb has a part two.

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Supernovae had always been known for their extremely high temperature. Nearing the end of its life, a mature star would go through an explosion so stupendous, it would eject almost the entirety of its mass. During this stage of a star's life cycle, the core temperature of a star could potentially rise to be in the billions of degrees Fahrenheit, making it appropriate for a supernova to be credited as the hottest object ever known in the vast universe.

But as Spencer sat on the chair behind his desk, his fingers tapping impatiently on the surface, he was certain that not even the temperature of a supernova could rival the heat rising steadily inside his chest.

The flame raged unlike anything he had ever known. It flourished with every second Spencer spent staring at you from across the room. You were laughing at something your present company had said, and Spencer instinctively gripped the arm rest of his chair as the fire in his ribcage roared even wilder.

Spencer was on the edge of his seat, ready to prowl at any second, when a presence unexpectedly slid right next to him.

"What are you doing?" Emily Prentiss asked, perching herself on the edge of Spencer's desk without a care in the world.

"Nothing," the young man answered distractedly. "Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you still had those ginger candies you shared with me last week?" Emily wondered as she began to rummage through his drawers. "Where do you keep it?"

Silently, Spencer opened his bottom drawer, pulling out a tin box where he stored the sweets Emily was looking for.

"You're an angel on earth, Dr. Reid." Emily grinned, popping a candy into her mouth. "Are you okay, by the way?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you've been throwing daggers at (Y/N) and Anderson for the past three minutes."

"I have not."

"Yes, you have."

"You're mistaken. Maybe you were just seeing things."

"Reid, you're literally glaring at them right now as we speak." At Emily's observation, Spencer begrudgingly tore his gaze away from the two people across the room. "Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on. I told you," Spencer insisted, his eyes once again returning towards the pair on the other side of the bullpen. "Hey, do you know how (Y/N) and Anderson became close like that?"

"Haven't they always been friendly?"

"Friendly? Yes. But not like... that." Spencer pressed his lips, trying to contain the scowl when he saw you grip Anderson's forearm as you beamed at the other agent. "Since when does (Y/N) laugh like that with him?"

Emily flicked her eyes repeatedly between yours and Spencer's face. A smirk emerged on her lips when understanding finally dawned on her. "Oh my God, you're jealous."

Spencer didn't think he ever whipped his head so fast in his entire life.

"You're jealous of Anderson. Holy shit, that makes so much sense! You're actually jealous."

"What are you talking about? I'm not—I'm not jealous!"

"Of course you are. Why else would you get so hostile at the mere sight of those two talking?"

"I was just... asking a question. I wanted to know why they suddenly seemed so close, that's all."

"Of course you did."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"Right. Of course you are." Emily snickered. She got up from his desk and started walking away, all the while belting out a ridiculously jesty song she obviously just made up, "Spencer is jealous. J-E-A-L-O-U-S! Spencer is jealous. J-E-A-L-O-U-S!"

The young Doctor frowned at Emily's teasing. He glanced towards where you had been standing only to see you sauntering towards his direction. Spencer automatically busied himself with the random papers on his desk, acting as if he had only noticed your presence as you sat down on your desk right across from his.

"Working hard, Doctor?" you quipped jubilantly, rearranging the case files on your desk as you hummed an unfamiliar tune under your breath.

"Something like that," Spencer replied, closing the documents he wasn't even reading as his full attention landed on you. "What did Anderson want?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing. He was just asking if I was free this weekend, that's all."

Spencer unwittingly clenched his jaw at your reply. "What's this weekend?"

"A cricket game. Apparently, Grant has always been a big fan, so he was very excited when I told him I used to play back in college. Too bad I can't come to the game, though. I promised my mom I would visit her this weekend."

Spencer could merely nod at your explanation, pretending like his brain hadn't short-circuited when you referred to Agent Anderson with his first name. The fog in his head only started to dissipate when Derek called for the two of you from the bullpen doors, asking if any of you would like to join him for lunch.

"You coming, Doctor Reid?" you asked as you stood up from the chair, pocketing your phone and wallet in the process.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll be right there. You guys just go ahead."

You flashed him one last bright smile before skipping all the way towards where Derek was waiting. A sense of calm washed over him when he saw you glancing back, offering a small wave in his direction. Spencer could feel the smile blooming on his face before it was soon chased away by the sight of Anderson standing by the door, holding it open as you laughed gratefully at him.

Fuck it.

It looked like Emily was right after all.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x fem!reader #criminal minds x male reader #criminal minds x gn!reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler #mgg #zara's birthday bash and road to 1k

[cuffmeinblack]

A Library Defiled

Garreth Weasley x f!reader

Summary: An tense encounter in the library shatters the barrier between friends and lovers. Tags: explicit | fingering | semi-public sex | friends to lovers 1.7k words

A/n: Just a quick smutty drabble from me but it's been a while since I wrote anything for Weasley Wednesday! I was inspired by this art which sent me slightly insane yesterday (help, he's so fucking tall).

The gold embossed spine winked down at your from its perch, far out of reach amongst the teetering heights of the stacks. Your instinct was to grab your wand and cast a quick summoning charm, but that idea fizzled out with a quick glance at your surroundings. The signs that Madam Scribner had hung earlier that year usually went ignored, but the stern librarian was only feet away now, shuffling through a cart of returned books. Forbidding the use of magic in a magical school was preposterous, though you could quite easily see Professor Black agreeing with her madness. No doubt it had been in response to that business with Cressida and her damned flying diary. 

You rolled your eyes before standing on tiptoes, fingers merely inches away from your prize, and yet it was to no avail. That extra height eluded you. The thought occurred to you to start climbing the shelves until the very book you needed was snatched from above.

“Wait, I-...”

“Is this what you wanted?”

You needn't have turned to discern who'd spoken—his voice was as familiar as his densely freckled face—but you fixed your face with a suitably irritated expression. You came face to face with his chin, having to crane your neck to meet the towering redhead’s eyes. Garreth held the book out for you with a smile that looked far too self satisfied for your liking.

“Yes, it is. Well done for being so tall,” you replied, casting another mutinous glance at the librarian. “How does she expect us to get anything down without using magic?”

“I think she'd be happy for nobody to touch the books ever again. However, I'm always happy to help a damsel in distress.” You could practically feel the implied flirtatious wink.

Shadow eclipsed your face, an arm braced against the shelf beside you. Your heart stuttered, arms clutching the book tightly to your chest like a shield in case the organ burst from your ribcage. The reaction he elicited wasn't new or unexpected—in fact, he played into it as much as he could these days. He knew how to stand, how to speak and what to say to send your heart racing, hoping that one day you would end the torturous game you played and let him fulfill those desires you both knew you held. The chase was fun but your patience and self restraint grew thinner with each passing day.

“Is that what I am?” you asked. Your voice quivered as you felt him envelop your back, his warmth seeping through your shirt. He ran hot like a furnace. You'd forgotten how to use your limbs, how to think; every sense was acutely aware and attuned to his movements. 

“You looked pretty distressed before I got here,” he chuckled, his mouth so very close to your ear. His fingers flexed against the wood, warm breath slipping down your collar. Another inch and his lips might brush your skin.

Garreth knew when to stop. This invisible boundary you'd drawn lay somewhere on the hair's breadth between your bodies. You still felt everything—the steady rise and fall of his chest, the copper curls that barely ghosted your forehead and his gaze lingering on your neck. 

Sweeping the hair away from that spot, you heard him inhale, dizzy from the slightest show of skin; not quite an invitation, only an enticement. If he insisted on teasing, you would repay him for his efforts. When he stepped closer you knew it had been foolish.

There was no more room between you anymore, only his muscled chest and the hint of softness at his midsection. “Are you going to let me leave or keep me pinned here forever?” you asked, hoping that the answer might be ‘yes’.

“I'm not stopping you.” He shoved his free hand into his pocket. He was quite correct—there to your right, was a route of escape. You could turn and leave, but your legs had suddenly atrophied. And then Garreth dipped his head further. To an outsider it might look as if he were whispering conspiratorially in your ear, his billowing robes and broad shoulders masking just how tightly your bodies pressed against each other. “You can go, or you can stop pretending not to want this,” he said.

“And what is this, exactly?”

Garreth shifted his weight ever so slightly, enough for you to feel an unmistakable twitch in his trousers. Cheeks blazing, you inhaled sharply whilst suppressing a whimper, clutching the book so tightly you thought the spine might crumble.

“You drive me crazy,” he replied with what could only be described as longing lacing his voice. Garreth wasn't the type of person to manipulate others; you knew he was being sincere. “Just give me a chance to love you.”

You finally looked at him then, shocked to hear that word slipping from his lips. He didn't seem to have noticed, or perhaps he held no shame in laying his heart on the line for you then. His eyes were full and earnest, unwavering as they held your gaze. In response to your shocked silence he asked, “Did you think I just wanted to sleep with you?” 

“Maybe,” you muttered. Despite every rational thought imploring you not to, your eyes dropped to his lips, and his own quirked into a smile at his victory. When he kissed you, he finally let go of the shelf to tilt your chin to meet him. The hand in his pocket came to encircle your waist, swivelling you around to face him. The book you'd held as a shield that signified the final barrier between your coupling fell to the floor with a thud as you gave into him completely. 

Your heart pounded so fiercely you didn't hear Madam Scriber shouting or the students whistling—there was only Garreth and his gentle touch and soft lips, tongues swirling in an endless caress. The battle had been long-fought but your surrender had made winners of you both. The whimper you'd forced down threatened to escape the tighter he held you, the longer his tongue teased your lower lip. 

Perhaps it had been a blessing when the librarian broke her own rule and blasted a hex at the pair of you, rendering you speechless and unable to move. Saving you from further embarrassment had been a steep price to pay and had made Madam Scribner enemy number one.

-

A month later, you found yourself in that very same spot again, except this time it was under the cover of darkness. Tonight you would exact your revenge on Madam Scribner by defiling her precious library. The room was still and blissfully quiet except for the rustle of fabric and lustful moans that spilled from your own mouth. Garreth's lips were just as sweet as that fateful day one month prior, his hand braced again on the shelf next to you—but this time his slick fingers teased your clit with precision as you pressed against his chest. 

Your head fell back on his shoulder, back arching into his touch as the circles grew faster and tighter. You whimpered unbidden, met by a breathy chuckle in your ear before Garreth's mouth returned to your neck. You guessed there would be purple bruises there tomorrow, by the way your skin now tingled and stung so deliciously.

“Fuck, Garreth…” Stars perforated your vision as every drop of blood rushed south, preparing for a mind-shattering orgasm only minutes after your arrival. Everything was so intense, so passionate with Garreth; years of tension finally culminating in the moments you joined bodies.

“That's it, let it go,” he whispered in your ear, silky smooth and commanding. “Come for me.”

You gripped his hair as those final slippery strokes sent you over the edge, coming hard with a loud moan that echoed along the rows of books. If they could talk, they'd have quite the tale to tell. Your thighs clenched around his hand, hips grinding against his fingers. His cock was already nudging against your behind whilst you writhed in the throes of pleasure.

“I can’t wait to be inside you. Fuck, you’re so wet.” Another nudge from his stiff length, his arm abandoning the shelf to hold you tight against him. You’d barely caught your breath before Garreth was tilting you forward, angling your hips just right as he slid between your folds. “This is exactly what I wanted to do to you that day, you know.” His voice had become gravelly, laced with want. His cock twitched eagerly at your entrance.

“I wanted it, too,” you sighed, gripping the shelf in front of you hard as books shifted and dust invaded your nostrils, yet nothing could overpower the heady aroma of musk that had you salivating at the thought of Garreth’s dripping cock. “Please…”

Garreth entered you in one swift motion, stretching you until you were blissfully full. He groaned and nipped at your ear, sending shivers down your spine before retreating and plunging back inside. Harder, faster, deeper; he fucked you until the books fell all around you and coherent sentences were a thing of the past. 

All you knew was him, and his name sighed to the heavens as he pulled your hair and bared your throat. The sting of your skin felt like promises, made to linger. He was everything, and he was yours.

Garreth’s long fingers trailed your collarbone under the open fabric of your shirt before wrapping around your throat. Calloused fingertips grazed your pulse and the corner of your jaw. You were close again; tension coiled so tight it almost hurt. He must have felt your body twitch, your muscles contract—he responded with a shuddering groan, his hips grinding relentlessly against your behind as he met his own release. 

Your climax followed soon after, every pulsing wave around his cock filling you further and further until you were dripping, happy and satiated.

The dim light of the cavernous room made for quite the relaxing atmosphere, and your eyes blinked slowly at the ceiling as you came down from your high. You could have curled up there and slept, warm and safe in Garreth’s arms. 

He was busy nuzzling against the crook of your neck when he finally sighed contentedly. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

#garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #garreth weasley fanfiction #garreth weasley x reader

[ahhhwomen]

Mom, I'm tired.

Vampire Empire

Part 2

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Alright, so this writing style is not what I am used to, so feedback is definitely welcome. Due to me being unsure of this style I wanted to take a little longer to write part 2, but since yall liked part 1 so much I decided a shorter chapter was in order, I am already working on part 3, but yall gotta tell me how you feel about this one. Oh... and don't hate me for what i am about to do...

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death Minors DNI 18+

Summary: You just want to rest.

Word Count: 1.4k

You don’t know what is happening, why- you try to pull in a desperate breath, but still, nothing. Why- why was this happening? What is happening?

Why can’t you move?!

The lesser scary of the two redheads secures herself tighter against you, now supporting your full weight. She has to shift from a crouched-down position to sitting completely in your little enclosure. Her ankle awkwardly bends beneath her thigh. The rough ground fraying her expensive dress pants.

There is a sensation like concrete pouring through your veins, you can hear your heartbeat slow, and immense pressure start building behind your eyes, but you are desperate for control over something, anything. So, as much as it pains you, you tiredly let your eyes roam around the room while trying to avoid the blank stare from the taller redhead.

Your vision takes in the scenery that has unfolded in your space, you drape your eyes over the walls, the horror of your evening with Master painted like a masterpiece, you then take a risk and slowly run your eyes over the lower half of the woman in front of you.

Wanda is standing like a woman in power, her feet spaced apart hip to hip, spreading her weight perfectly between the pair of high, amber, heels. There was a slight scuff to one of them, a chip in the plastic, whatever fell earlier must have fallen on that heel, you doubt she would walk around with an imperfect pair if not. You swirl your eyes to the ground beside her, a tusk of brown hair having caught your attention.

That’s when you see it. Staring right back at you are the lifeless eyes of the seller. Or at least that is the only name you have for him.

It’s at that moment that the reality of the situation finally sets in.

 

You go to let out a high-pitched whine, but no sound is made, and for the first time in a long time, you have this desperate need to cry.

You can’t even do that.

You don’t want to die.

Not like this.

You want to smell the fresh air in the cold mornings, you want to feel the sand beneath your toes, you want to taste the richness of vanilla inside a simple frozen dish, and you want to live. If only for a moment longer.

But-

There is nothing you can do.

Your body loses all will to fight, and you give up.

Wanda keeps track of your vitals while under her control, she doesn't want to hurt you, but you are out of line, and frankly, your behavior unsettles the redhead.

When she can see the fight drain from your eyes, she releases you.

She sighs as the strain in her muscles loosens, and she moves her neck from left to right, removing the remaining tenseness. A prickle in her spine begs her to stretch out her entire body, but this was neither the time nor place, though she does put a pin in it, maybe she should order a massage sometime soon.

As for you, there is no sign that you are back in control except for the desperate gasping for air.

You don’t know what to do with this newfound freedom, Romanoff´s hands are keeping you close to her, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear, but suddenly it’s all too much. The only thing you can do is let your ribcage expand and contract at a rapid pace, the pain grounds you as your bruised ribs sting you.

You no longer fight against Natasha’s grip, and there is no chance that you will either.

You are scared, they can both feel it, but it’s not like it was a moment ago. A moment ago you were fighting to stay alive, fighting because it is your instinct to do so, now, you have given up on even that.

Now, you are just scared, plain and simple.

Natasha rubs her hands up and down your back slowly, the fabric of her silken shirt bunches up with her elbows, and the roll of textile slides against your skin rhythmically. Your body tenses and relaxes at strange intervals, there is a mistrust between her motive and your tender flesh, yet you still crave comfort.

That is until you see Wanda shift from one foot to the other and Natasha’s hands move too close to your collar, you strain your body away from her palms.

Natasha huffs in slight annoyance and shifts her attention to her wife, “What was that?”.

She tries to keep her voice quiet enough to not startle you, but it’s a futile attempt and shortly after she has opened her mouth you are crawling out of her arms and back into your corner.

She can tell it pains you to move, the bruises along your arms and legs making it difficult to crawl in a fluid motion, and she sees you struggle your way under the lamp, but you manage. In the end, you swiftly slump back into the position you laid in when they first got here, the only difference being that you are too tired to move the rag back over your body.

Wanda merely shrugs, her perfectly fitted suit ruffling with the movement, “She was becoming aggressive.” To be truthful, your sudden outburst had taken Wanda by surprise, she didn’t even know what she was saying until it was too late.

Natasha sighs before standing and walking up to her wife, her pants now scuffed and dirtied. She brushed herself down, but the filth of this place wasn’t one easily removed. She gets a hold of her bearings and stands straight before she bothers with a disappointed reply.

“She was just scared, “ she shakes her head disapprovingly. They have lived long enough to see all types of people. And Natasha knows you're type, scared, abused, and skittish. A dog in the fighting ring, or a cat in this case.

Anything can make you snap and bare your teeth.

However, she also knows that taking your right to do so away, will only worsen your behavior in the long run. It never helps to use fear against someone who is already terrified.

Again, Wanda does nothing but shrugs and lifts her jacket to glance at her watch.

Playtime is over, they have places to be, and it saddens Wanda, but she knows they won’t be leaving here with a pretty girl like she had hoped.

It´s best for Natasha that she rips the band-aid off fast.

Wanda points over at your shaking body, “It’s clear Carol has her eyes on her. You know we can’t keep her.”

Wanda slumps in on herself while saying it, her shoulders lower and her back bows unnaturally, the seams of her suit stretching and pulling against the tight movement. After the words have been put out there, Natasha's face shifts and morphs until she settles for a relatively neutral, but rather grim expression. The right side of her lip lifted into a slight sneer; this was an unfortunate situation.

Natasha looks down at her hands, hands she had just held you in, there are specs of dried blood and dirt covering the expanse of her palms, she tightens her fist and takes a slow breath.

Carol is already enough of a handful. Taking her punching bag away from her will only make matters worse.

Leased pet or not, Carol owns you.

So, Natasha nods curtly, the back of her shirt rubbing uneasily against the nape of her neck.

“Well, let’s go then.” With no regard to the body at her heels she steps over the man and continues to strut down the hall with her wife following shortly behind. Someone will be by to clean him up and replace him with another pawn, it’s the way these places work.

And if she took a moment to listen in on your heartbeat one last time before they left, it wouldn’t hurt anyone that she kept that to herself.

It sounded wrong.

Whatever sympathy Natasha felt for you was quickly squashed down and ignored as she and Wanda returned to business as usual.

It’s for the best, a pet would only make them weak.

After the two mysterious women leave, you curl into yourself and a sob breaks through you before you can stop it.

Mom, I'm tired.

#wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dark!natasha romanoff #wandanat x reader #vampire!natasha romanoff #vampire!wanda maximoff #dark!wandanat

[justash02]

Womanizer; 06

A/n; lemme know if you have feedback! It’s always welcome! So are Requests! Text me! I’m nice:>

Plot; Everyone who knew who Tom Kaulitz was knew that he was girl crazy, he's very well known for having girls around him all the time.

Pairing; Tom Kaulitz x fem reader.

Previous chapter -> next chapter.

Master list

Taglist<3

*^*^*

"I could be a better boyfriend then him."

Tom's POV;

Her lips, her eyes, the way her soft skin felt against my hands... everything about her makes me go crazy.

I've never felt this way before, is this what others mean when they say that they are in love? When I first met her my intention was just to get her in bed.

Because even though I didn't feel like this at first I definitely felt some strong attraction to the girl. But not like this. Not like after I felt how well our lips fitted together.

*^*^*

Y/n's POV

"Ready to go babes?" Clair asked standing in the doorway looking at me working my magic with some makeup. She didn't say anything and went over to sit on Adams bed.

Ray had worked his magic and got us on one of the hottest guest lists at the moment.

"Adams been weird lately, don't you think?" She asked caressing the well made bed, I stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. Day in day out the only thing that has been on my mind is Tom.

Magazines have been full of speculation on our relationship, fans on the other hand thought I was Tom's play thing for a while before he got bored of me and went over to next girl.

"Yeah." I said, trying to ignore the burning pain in my ribcage. "But if he wants to be a dick that's his problem." I said trying to keep that mind set.

In reality, it did hurt. Adam and I have known each other for a few years and in that time we've gotten close but lately he spend more and more time away from the house and only comes when it's absolutely.

"I think he's slacking." Clair said, studying my face to find some sort of agreement from me, and she found it.

If me kissing a boy for a music video does this much to him maybe he shouldn't be our leader.

"I think he has feelings for you." She stated, i stood still for a second before closing my lip tint and turned around to look at her.

"Doesn't give him the right to neglect his work, nor ours." 

*^*^*

When we arrived at the party we found out it was being held at an gigantic villa, Ben pulled up at the parking space with his Blue Opel Corsa and let us get out.

Clair went over to my door and let me out while I was looking in my bag for my phone, I smiled at her affectionately before grabbing her hand she as holding out and quickly got to my feet.

It didn't take me long to realize that Adam was pulling Ben away with him, rushing inside, probably to not have to talk to me.

He hasn't really talked to me for a last few days and honestly I'm so over his bullshit.

I held out my arm for Clair and she gladly took it, tonight was about the band and making a good appearance, not about Adam and his childish ways.

We soon got inside and the music was blasting loudly over the speakers, people were making out here and there, some were even doing drugs.

"Yo, this is extremely illegal." Clair yelled over the loud music, "Yeah, they probably got it from the Netherlands." I yelled back.

She just nodded and looked around the small part of this gigantic house and spotted all to familiar people.

"Oh good! It's tokio hotel!" She yelled pulling me with her over to the boys, I smacked into a few people but Clair didn't care and kept pulling me with her.

Soon we reached the boys, "Y/n! Clair!" Gustav yelled as he was the first to notice us, walking over to us pulling us in a quick hug, bill quickly looked up at me and walked over to me to give me a long hug.

"How's my best girl?" He asked gently rocking us back and forth, the nickname made me blush a bit but I didn't care.

"I'm really hungry." I said groaning making him laugh, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder before telling me he knew the people hosting this party so he could fix something for me.

Clair was already sitting down with Gustav and Georg so I asked if she would mind if we got some food really quick and she didn't mind.

"Call me if something's wrong ok?" She smiled and nodded before shooing us away, we bursted into laughing before Bill pulled me over to the kitchen.

Soon we got there and the kitchen was bigger then our whole living room, my jaw dropped a bit before studying the room we were in.

"What are you craving?" Bill asked opening up some doors. I walked over to him, pulling his arm up to go under it because damn this dudes tall asf.

He instinctively rested his arm around my shoulder letting me look, "This looks good!" I said grabbing one of the many pizza boxes on the counter opening them up.

I opened it up and it were my favorite toppings so obviously I grabbed a slice from that. "Toms been acting weird lately." He suddenly said.

"Oh?" I questioned looking back at him with a bite of pizza in my mouth, "I don't know, he hasn't had girls over at all lately. It's weird for him."

"Why do you think that is?" I asked, he shrugged before grabbing one of the red cups that were on the counter, "Maybe he has feelings for you."

"Ha, funny joke." I said before bitting into the pizza once more, tasting the greasy goodness. "I'm not joking! Call it twin instinct if you will. I'm calling that he's obsessing over you." He said poring himself a drink.

"Don't get my hopes up." I practically begged as went over to stand next to him, "He would be an idiot if he wouldn't be." He smiled, wrapping an arm around me once again. "Besides i know you like him back."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I laughed nervously making him scoff at me, "It's completely obvious! The way you guys were kissing?" He suggested.

"Fine! I might like him a bit, but I highly doubt he would like me back." I said, leaning into his side.

His scent filled my nose calming me down, he ran his fingers through my hair, "You deserve someone who takes good care of you." He mumbled before gently kissing my forehead.

*^*^*

Taglist; @oh-kurva @ajaxisbae @thatoneweirdweebsimp @erensslutt @mycherry-melody

#cute imagines #x reader #imagines #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #bill haulitz #tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #womanizer

[fleetingvow]

‘ DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS .

Wednesday Addams x Female Reader.

SYNOPSIS. wednesday said crying never does anything, but why did a tear fall? will you never wake up?

NAVIGATION. part one - part two. masterlist.

WARNINGS. character death ( reader’s ), just slight faint angst. more thoughts, less plot. countless usage of parallelism in sentence structures.

NOTE. written in second person’s point of view.

𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗠𝗘𝗧 the ground. One after the other. Wednesday’s eyes slightly blinked, staring at her trembling hands stained with the essence of your life ebbing away in horror as she realised how much time you’ve spent with your eyes closed on the courtyard.

‘Tears,’ she thought. She looked away from it and continued to put her attention to you. She didn’t have to try that hard to do so, for everything that filled the arteries in her body all had something to do with the most damnable you.

It was all you.

You on the floor without a sardonic remark to catch her off guard. You and your pursed lips without a breath of exasperation from her antics. You and your cold hands that slipped away and lied so still. You and your pale appearance that shouldn’t be. You and your pulse that she couldn’t feel any longer. And mostly you being gone.

You were the reason that pulled the strings at the back of her mind and caused the salty disturbances to her sight. As she processed what had happened, she couldn’t look at you now. She furrowed her eyebrows and averted her gaze to the door that led to the inside of the school.

Wednesday could just walk away and leave you here. She could do that. But her feet betrayed her when she tried. Her heart — God, her abhorrent, distasteful, black cold heart; The crushing and tearing of it, although how intoxicating the pain may be, she felt defeated. Maybe you won the life-long challenge between you and her after all.

“I will kill you,” she mumbled to herself. She didn’t know what would make it feel better. She knew she had to do something to stop herself from feeling. She was feeling, the live creature kept in her ribcage was racing, her mind was spinning, and she could feel a wash of heavy emotions drown her. She needed to do something.

She wanted to do something. Wednesday clutched your uniform, tighter and tighter to the point that her nails almost dug through the fabric and cut her palm. This rage, it was something new. She wanted you. The tension that even the knives hidden under your bed couldn’t cut always screamed something like this. Like you were the most foul creature to ever walk the Earth. Like you were the tiniest little speck of dust on her shoe. Like you were the colour in her void making her want to scratch her eyes out.

Like you were — Like you’d be the reason she’d tear the world apart.

Wednesday wanted to deny it, but the thought made her notice a strange sensation again. She knew her disdain wasn’t truly disdain solely because of you, but it was scarier to admit now. She had lost her chance, her sanity, her will — Would you just wake up? She was tired of screaming at herself internally. She wanted to rest.

The damage the arrow had left her earlier was starting to take a toll on her, making her slowly and dubiously lay her head on your chest. She was tired. She wanted to lay down, and you couldn’t be the only one to enjoy peace, could you?

No. She couldn’t stand idly by as you enjoyed the tranquillity of what came after life and death. Wednesday could not bear it. She refused to, and she always will.

That’s when her ear touched the centre of your chest, and — Thump! Thump!

Her eyes widened at the sound. She frowned and fixed her position, shifting so she could still get a good grip of you and hold herself in place on the spot where she heard something she never thought she could again.

And there it was! A beat of your heart. Two, three. She didn’t hesitate once she heard it. Your heartbeats were faint, but she trusted whatever it was that existed that you had a chance.

She had a chance.

Wednesday quickly sat up and fixed herself alongside you, removing her jacket as she rolled her sleeves up in haste, positioning her hands in a way that she believed she’d never seen coming in her entire life. Years of believing she only cut the head of those unwilling to live a life. Years of torment as her favourite pastime, and now she had her hands fixed in a CPR position to revive a life she had long-resided to be unworthy and irritating.

She did not care. She wanted you alive so she could kill you herself.

The round of the first pumps and she already felt as though she was going to replace herself in your position due to her desperation.

“You're not going to die on me, I dare you.” She mumbled and resumed.

Once you’ve gotten yourself involved with Wednesday, she was sure that you’d never find a way out to escape her grip. She had poured whatever she had outside the lines of the usual her — the real her. She had run around frantically for you, had her mind run a million miles just to think about anything that correlated to you. She feared. She’d never been scared. Only for you.

Once she got to the third round of the CPR, Wednesday had gone back to zero, thinking you weren’t going to wake up again, but she was more stubborn than that.

You weren’t dead, you were just sleeping. That’s what she hopelessly believed. She lived in-denial. Breathed in denial as long as she was around you.

“If you don’t wake up, I’ll set this school on fire. Wake up, Y/N!”

Again.

You will die with her, but not now. At this point, Wednesday was aware of herself. Why she hated you, why she thought about you, why she wondered about your lips, why she looked at you up and down so hesitantly when you taunted her about the person she tolerated the most. It was ironic seeing you in a burning light but never truly wanting to set you on fire. In fact, she’d watch the world be set on fire by her own doing.

As long as she was watching it in your eyes.

Wednesday faintly grunted. “We’ll fight everyday, if that’s what you want. We have a deal, but I want the end of your bargain. Wake up. Do you hear me, L/N?”

“We’ll stab each other until we don’t see another spot in our bodies in which we could occupy with wounds. Just — ” The young Addams tried to stop herself from saying it. How she hated herself. Hated you for making her this way.

You were a crime, yet she didn’t mind committing it again and again.

“Wake up.”

Her braids were swinging back and forth with beads of sweat scattered on her forehead. “I look so utterly stupid because of you.”

“You will wake up, do you understand me?”

She didn’t know how long she’ll have to keep doing it, but it was a great relief when the door to the courtyard had been busted open and more people than she needed rushed to the courtyard, pointing their flashlights to the girl who never stopped doing the CPR on the unconscious you.

Everything seemed slower. Wednesday couldn’t hear anyone. She felt as if it was finally maybe alright if she let go of her composure when her relief washed over her that the help that she wanted was finally sprinting over to you.

Every movement, she felt like the time slowed on purpose, because once she looked at you once again, she felt her heart break once more when she spotted the man who checked your pulse shake his head solemnly.

Fuck, were you gone?

“No,” she absent-mindedly whispered, breaking from the gasp of the people taking her away from you. “No, she’s not dead!”

The man couldn’t look at her, sparking the vexation in Wednesday. She briskly grabbed him by the collar as her breath hitched, “She’s alive. I heard her heartbeat. You better do your job and start reviving her or I will put an end to this whole school with all of you in it.”

The others looked at each other, frightened by a threat made by a delinquent Nevermore kid before nodding. Another chance, and maybe you’d open those eyes again.

Another chance, and maybe this time, she’d tell you for sure just what it is that you do to her.

* * *

Static! Blood! Knife!

Those three words kept replaying like a broken record. The metallic smell of your blood had become so vivid you feared it would latch onto you forever. You were cold. Too cold you felt like you were dead.

Maybe you were.

You remembered the suffocating feeling. You recalled not being able to breathe, but what was it that you felt now? Nothing.

Nothing?

You winced. Oh, that’s what you felt now. That’s when your senses came back but almost too tired to fully function. You could still feel the familiar object buried deep in your abdomen, and fuck, how much it hurt!

“Wednesday saved her life.” Bianca? Was that her? You couldn’t open your eyes fully, but once it was half-up, the only things you saw were blue and red, blurry lights and blurry heads.

You wanted to fall asleep.

“If — girl hadn’t — CPR — hopeless.”

You didn’t care whatever the full sentence was. All you knew was you were about to slip back into your peaceful slumber, not knowing what had been happening the moment you woke up again.

Yet before you embraced the warmth of slumber, you saw the figure you hated on your side, staring at you so emotionless, making you ponder whether you were cared about or perceived to be stupid.

Maybe this was the last time you’d ever see those braids again, but it was okay to smile passive-aggressively, right?

You believed it to be a great way to die.

* * *

The knife plunging into you with the face of the evil staring tight at you in the face inflicted the pain of acid burning your insides. You couldn’t erase that.

The object kept appearing. Your blood kept flowing. Your gasps kept continuing to emit from your lips.

It kept repeating. Again and again and again.

You wanted it to end. You desired to scream. The fire that accompanied the scene in the courtyard danced around you, glad that you were meeting your end. Your family stood before you when you turned around, each one chanting the same thing, telling you never to return home again. Your past lover wishing they’d never met you joined in on the fun of tormenting you. Saying that you were their greatest regret and shame.

A storm soon started, and the pain was felt all over again. All you could see was the fire, the faces, the drops of the sky, and your blood everywhere. You spun around to look for a way out.

God, you wanted to live!

You didn’t want to die!

You wanted to breathe!

You wanted to feel!

You wanted to make more memories!

You wanted to dance under the rain!

You wanted to steal the English crown!

Your subconsciousness kept craving for more to life than walking around at the school, staring at people without another thought. Just that you were absolutely jealous that they had what you wanted.

Genuine love.

The moment your eyes met a certain pair peeking through her long lifted eyelashes, you almost believed in the thing called attraction. You resided in the faith that the attraction was because you were polar opposites and she kept standing out because she made you feel so irritated.

Yet you had the urge to touch her, feel her hands and touch her pale cold cheeks.

You wanted so many things, and why couldn’t you have that now?

You saw a blinding white light, a place in which you were unaware. There were things you were familiar with yet never familiarised yourself with before at the same time. You scanned your surroundings, the flash of colours now starting to appear. The blue, the green, the spectrum of refracted lights. You kept seeing the cursed smile, the blood on your hands, and the dagger in your flesh. You wanted to scream.

And then — and then there was Wednesday.

The Wednesday who sat beside the bed patiently, careful not to let the support of the chair touch her back. Her who pursed her lips without yet again any emotions peeking through her dead eyes. Her who stared at nothing. The Wednesday who swore to bring you down one day, and now holding your hand on the bed. You thought this was impossible. This was a hallucination for sure.

Her face was etched with fear and worry.

Wednesday never looked like that.

What was she doing following you in the afterlife? Didn't she have any better plans of holidays, dancing on top of graves somewhere?

You didn't believe it and almost laughed, "Wednesday Addams, as I live and breathe! You know you look terrifying when you zone — "

That’s when you realised it was all real. When the girl’s eyes gaped at you and her clutch tightened more that made you feel the full living of her you had hatefully adored. “You’re actually awake.”

“I am?”

“You will never do that to me again.”

“Do what again?” You playfully asked, playing the clueless card as if you weren’t just stabbed.

“Make horrible puns.”

“You missed me.”

“Barely.”

“I heard you saved my life.”

“I did not. I left you at the courtyard to bleed out to death.”

How come you even had the audacity to smirk at her right now after the heart attack she’d been experiencing since you were shown around with a knife to your abdomen?

“When can we throw knives at each other until there’s no spot in our bodies to torment again?”

“I won’t let you do that.”

“Wednesday!”

She emotionlessly looked at you before looking at the bunch of roses without the petals yet adored with thorns on the bedside. “You’re the most idiotic person I know.”

“I’m aware,” those roses. You knew those were her mother’s favourite. You almost diverted your gaze to shy away the smile that was twitching to form on your face, but instead, you returned the gesture of holding her hand. “But I’d do anything for you, Wednesday.” You looked away from the sudden confession.

A sigh. There it was. Were your feelings unreciprocated? Did you misunderstand her cues? You couldn’t understand.

But that was when she mumbled, unwavering like sturdy tree in the eye of a storm.

Wednesday gazed down at your hands, joined together without dirt and blood.

For a moment, she thought she’d never see that sight again. That she won’t ever lay her eyes upon the lively annoyingly missed you.

For a month she suffered silently, dismissing her writing hours in lieu of thinking about how you were and what had happened.

But you were here now. You were awake on the bed you’ve been sleeping in without wake, holding her pale hands with her painted fingers gripping yours desperately trying to remember the feeling for the later eternities to come. You were warm and alive.

Breathing and well, making her slightly pull her lips upwards. It was a good feeling. The poison in her veins she knew were spiked by everything about you.

You were stuck with her now. Forever is a really long time. Will you comit when she finally said it?

“I almost burnt the whole school for you.”

TAGS. @blazemaster4014 @n0p35 @elduster @niekapral @iquit-28 @vlkyriesverse @anidiotwhoreads @emscave @belltako @ryver19 @daddy-jareau @zoophobictiktok @justarandomweeblol @justtiasblog @angel-luv-04 @sunasami @kyday @llcursed-imagell @IIcursed-imageII @alexkolax @anouknagel @leathesimp @manu-007s-world @liliesandrosies @dandelions4us @pennybutwise @ilacknames @eclipsesmoonshine14 @wizardofstories @jas-the-shrimp @director-raven @simpform1lfs @dreifhraniquo29

NOTE TO TAGS. thank you all so fucking much for supporting and leaving notes to the fic that i have created! i am so thrilled that you’re willing to wait this far just to get a part two of the wednesday addams fic! you don’t know how happy i am that you have given appreciation to what i created, and how it motivates me to keep moving forward with this account and my writing overall. wednesday addams christmas special will surely be a thing this month! advanced happy christmas to each and every single one of you! <3

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams angst #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams fluff #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday #wednesday x reader #wensday x reader #wenesday x reader #wensday addams x reader #wenesday addams x reader #jenna ortega

[sluttyminghao]

hello again <3 for ur nsfw sleepover !! how abt reader jokingly teasing wonwoo abt being lanky bc all he does is game all day and he retaliates by fucking her senseless against a wall :3c bonus if he rails her again in the shower after he helps clean up ehe

"seriously wonwoo, i could never reach the cupboards like you do, you're just so lanky!"

it started off as an innocent joke, he laughed, you laughed, and then you went back to your usual business. but then the jokes started becoming more frequent, and wonwoo wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.

"hey wonu, im too short to reach the spices, can you grab them down with your lanky arms?"

he's not sure why this was the straw that broke the camel's back, but he felt his eye twitch and suddenly he is slamming his hands against the counter, your body jolting from the sudden loud noise.

there's a mixture of anger and want coursing through his system, and he can't control himself when he's backing you against the kitchen counter, eyes burning with rage and something you can't quite put your finger on.

wonwoo has you cornered, your heart feels like it's going to beat through your ribcage. you try to dart through his arms, and it partially works, but his long legs are too much for you and within only a couple of feet he's got you trapped against a wall instead, hands pinned above your head and one of his thighs between your legs.

"you think this is fucking funny? you think it's funny to call me lanky and long?"

"i mean...a little...all you do is sit and game all day..."

he chuckles, but it's not a nice chuckle. instead, it's a short, curt chuckle that has the hairs on your arms standing up. he stares deeply into your eyes and slowly, without breaking eye contact, lets one of his hands wander to your sleep shorts and tug on the waistband, pulling them and your underwear down at the same time.

you can't even say a word as he lets his long fingers graze over your cunt, chuckling when he feels how soaked you are. he brings his fingers up to your mouth and you obey, a groan leaving his own lips when he sees you greedily suck his fingers.

"there is one perk to being lanky, I can hold you against the wall while I fuck you stupid."

your mouth opens to reply but he silences you with his intense stare, all the while he pulls his shorts down to expose his cock, hard and leaking. he keeps you pinned to the wall while he lines himself up, before slowly filling you up inch by inch.

wonwoo has no mercy on you. he picks one of your legs up and hooks it around his hip before he starts a rough and merciless pace. you can feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head, and the only thing filling your ears are his soft groans and curses.

"still think it's funny?" his voice is hoarse as he ruts his hips into you harshly, seemingly able to go on for hours at the rate he's going. you whine out a response, your mind turned to mush with his relentless energy.

"n-no" you mumble out, eyes bulging when he pulls himself out of you and stands back to admire his handiwork. he proceeds to then throw you over his shoulder effortlessly, and walks you towards your bathroom.

"well, just to make sure, i think I need to fuck a little more sense into you. maybe in the shower will do."

#seventeen smut #kpop smut #wonwoo smut #wonu smut #7k super sleepover #mutuals: kai!

[starsval]

headcase

remus lupin x f!reader

summary: liking remus lupin isn't easy, especially when all he does is give you missed signals

word count: 3k

warnings: kissing, reader drinks alcohol, talking about sleeping with someone(?

I was doing fine till you crashed in my headspace And took over my mind I was sorta cool till you made me a headcase And now I'm always Getting over it, getting over you, I don't even know you Hit me with that smile Way to rip my heart out my ribcage, ooh-ooh

"so i think i'll just do it lat-" you don't finish, distracted by a certain tall boy, with honey eyes and scarred face. who just walked in.

"what happened?" lily asks, worried by your sudden change.

"i hate him" you declare, maybe for the fifth time that day.

"you don't" marlene adds, focusing on her nails.

"yeah you don't" lily agrees, turning to wave at remus.

"okay maybe i don't" you keep talking so they can't interrupt you "but i am getting over him" you announce "i can't live like this, like, i don't even remember what i was talking about 'cause he just crashed into my headspace, and now i can only think about him, and his hair, and his hands and his sweaters…"

lily talks, intervening before you can go on your daily rant about remus lupin.

"i thought you said you hated him and were getting over him?" she smiles, chuckling when you groan.

marlene also smiles, but she loudly laughs when you put your head in your hands. remus just smiled at you.

"he's gonna rip my heart out my ribcage"

Only hit me now, we were texting late When you called me up just to see my face And I can't, I can't seem to figure you out Are you with that girl back in your home town? If we never kissed, does it even count? I still can't get you out of my mouth Way to touch me, babe, way to ask a {lady?} Overthink, overcomplicate Won't you let me stay in this fake heartbreak? I'm a real headcase

you know you should be sleeping instead of texting remus. you are aware of that, but it's hard to sleep when all he's doing is giving you mixed signals. it's hard to sleep when all you're doing is thinking about him. it's hard to sleep when he asks if he can come over. and it's even harder to say no to him.

"why did you want to come over?" you ask him as he walks in, closing the door behind him.

"just wanted to see your face" he stands in front of you, ignoring the way you frown at his words, touching your cheek.

"can i be honest with you?" he smirks.

"of course" he takes a step closer to you.

"i don't think i'll ever figure you out" you rest your forehead against his chest, feeling the vibrations as he chuckles.

"good"

ᨳ  ׂ   𓈒  ⠀🌙 ㅤׂ  ✽   ੭

"i don't get it, he comes over, spends the night and then he's making out with this girl from his hometown" you pout at your ceiling, marlene and lily next to you.

"we don't get it either" lily assures.

"maybe it's because we never kissed, maybe it doesn't count"

"i don't think remus is like that" marlene says, giving you a chocolate.

"i hate how i can't stop talking about him" you sigh, closing your eyes "in my defense, he gives really good hugs"

"maybe you're just over thinking?" lily asks, taking a chocolate from marlene.

"let me stay in this fake heartbreak please"

Honey, if you want, I could give you my weekends All you gotta do Is tell me this is true, tell me I am your weakness Just give me something I don't know how this started Is this what modern art is? You left and took my heart with

"are you free this weekend?" remus finds you as you're walking to class, getting the books from your hands to hold them for you.

"i don't know" you do know, marlene wants you to go to this party with her "why?"

"are you coming to the party?" he asks, smiling at you.

"i don't know yet" you lie, marlene would kill you if you didn't go.

"okay, i'll see you there then" he gives you your books back.

"what?" you frown.

"i'm inviting you, so you have to go" he then turns around and leaves, probably to his class.

ᨳ  ׂ   𓈒  ⠀🌙 ㅤׂ  ✽   ੭

you see remus right when you enter, but lily quickly drags you to were marlene is waiting, so you don't see him again until an hour later. when you've already had some drinks.

"hi" he pats the spot next to him on the couch, and you sit, staring at your cup "how are you?"

"can i ask you something?" you say, ignoring him.

"sure" he puts an arm around your shoulder.

"will you please tell me that this is true? tell me i am your weakness?" you stare at him.

"are you drunk?" he take the hand that's holding your cup and puts it close to his face, smelling it "you are drunk" he confirms as he gets up, pulling you up with him.

he takes your hand in his, and walks to lily and marlene, that are talking with james and sirius.

"i'm taking her to her room" he tells the girls.

"why?" sirius asks, but one glance at you is enough, it's obvious that you're drunk.

"okay, we'll go check on her later" lily says, taking the cup from your hand as you pass next to her, following remus.

you're already in a corridor when you talk again.

"please just give me something" you say, staring at the back of his hand

"you have to sleep" he mutters, ignoring you until you reach your room.

you fall on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

"i don't know how this started" you tell him, knowing that he knows what you're talking about. you're talking about your weird relationship. you are friends, but you flirt, you stay up talking to each other, you get jealous when the other is on a date with someone. but you aren't dating. "but i hate it, i hate you"

he only smiles, knowing that you don't mean it. he sits next to you, stroking your hair, waiting until you fall asleep.

then he leaves, taking your heart with him.

And it hit me now, we were texting late Then you called me up just to see my face And I can't, can't seem to figure you out (You out), ooh-ooh Are you with that girl back in your home town? If we never kissed, does it even count? I still can't get you out of my mouth (My mouth)

you hear your name being called just as you get up to get another drink. when you turn, you see sirius walking to you.

"remus is asking for you" he says, taking your hand and dragging you with him. you hadn't seen or talked to him since that party last week.

"what?" you ask, but before he can answer, you're standing in front of a very drunk remus, whose eyes light up when he sees you.

"hi" he giggles, taking the hand sirius is holding, to hold it himself.

"hi" you reply, frowning at james, who's watching everything with a smirk "why don't you go to sleep?"

you think remus is not going to agree, but he quickly gets up.

"with you? of course" he starts walking to the door, and you can only look back at james and sirius as they laugh.

"what? remus, no, i didn't mean-" you try to talk, but he ignores you, looking back only to grin.

once you reach his room, he quickly takes off his shoes and lies on the bed, staring at you with his arms open.

"remus" you say, not getting closer to him.

"yes?" he smiles at you, and if you weren't tipsy you'd notice the sparks in your eyes are because of you.

"sleep"

"i'm trying to, but you are just standing there" he sounds genuine about it, just the same way he looks genuinely sad when you take a step towards the door.

he doesn't say anything, so you assume he's just going to give up. but before you can reach the door, you feel his hand on your wrist. and before you can say something, you're on the bed next to him, with his arms around you.

"remus?" you try to move, but his grip doesn't get any weaker, even when he's half asleep.

he hums in response, his face in your neck.

"let me go"

he doesn't reply, but you feel his smile against your skin.

"i want to go back to the party" you try again, even if it's not entirely true.

"liar" he mutters, and his arms tighten around you.

"what"

"you like being here with me" he replies, and then he finally falls asleep.

And I can't seem to figure you out Oh, I can't seem to figure you out (You out)

you wake up to a flashlight, and when you open your eyes, there's a really drunk sirius holding a camera, with a really drunk james suppressing a laugh next to him.

"what time is it?" you ask, peeling remus' arm from around you.

"like 4 am" sirius replies, taking another picture of remus, this time without flash.

"tell remus i said goodbye" you say, walking to the door, although you doubt they'll remember.

the second time you wake up, it's already bright up. and when you get to the Great Hall, you see remus staring at you.

"why is he glaring at you?" marlene asks, frowning when remus gets up.

"i don't know" you lie, but before lily can say anything, remus is already behind you.

"you weren't there when i woke up" he says it like an accusation, and before you can reply, marlene is already talking.

"what!?" she practically spits her tea "you slept with him?"

"no" you say.

"yes" he says.

"not in the way you think!" you clarify.

"why did you sleep with him?" lily asks, and you can see the smirk she's hiding.

"i didn't-"

"you did" before remus can say anything else, you get up and grab his arm, dragging him out of the Great Hall to talk.

"what?"

"you weren't there when i woke up" he repeats.

"you wanted me to be there?" you frown, because the signals he has given you definitely didn't say that.

"yes" he doesn't change his expression.

"i find that hard to believe"

"why?" he scoffs.

"really? why?" you don't know if you should ignore him or just laugh in his face.

"yes, why?"

"you act all lovely on me one day and then you are with someone else, forgive me if i don't believe that you want me around"

"i forgive you" this time you're the one who scoffs, turning around and walking again in the Great Hall, not caring if he follows you.

marlene and lily decide not to ask about it.

Are you with that girl back in your home town? If we never kissed, does it even count? I still can't get you out of my mouth (My mouth) Way to touch me, babe, way to ask a lady? Overthink, overcomplicate Won't you let me stay in this fake heartbreak? I'm the real headcase

"really? again?" peter questions as remus sits in the couch again. they're in the middle of a party and remus just left with that girl from his hometown.

"did she see me?" remus looks around, looking for you.

"i think she was too busy talking with evan" james informs him, grinning when lily approaches them.

"have you seen the idiots i call for friends?" she asks, shoving sirius out of the way to sit on the couch next to james.

"one was with dorcas and the other one just left with evan" peter replies.

"wait, it was real? she left with evan?" remus frowns, and even pouts when lily laughs at him.

"what? you think she's gonna wait for you? babe, she's getting bored of you" she tells him, suddenly turning around when you and marlene approach her.

you sit on the couch in front of her, where sirius went after lily had pushed him. he puts an arm around both of you.

"so, i heard that you're both in love with some slytherins" you both glare at him, and he laughs at remus' expression.

after talking for a while, and you ignoring remus all the time, you three get up and leave. but before you can reach the hallway, remus takes your arm.

"can we talk?"

"we're talking right now" you smile. he glares.

before he can reply, marlene shoves both of you out of the door and to a corner of the hallway.

"talk" and then she leaves with lily.

"why were you with evan?" he asks.

"we were talking"

"like we" he points to both of you "talk?"

"i don't know remus, how do we talk? how are you any different than evan?"

"he doesn't like you" you chuckle.

"and you do?"

"i do"

"i don't believe you" you start to walk away, but he grabs your arm and turns you around, settling his hands on your waist.

"let me help you believe"

"what?" you notice the way he looks at your lips.

"i can't get you out of my mouth, ask peter, i'm sure he hates me because all i ever do is talk about you. you're the only one who makes me overthink. i'm literally wondering if i'm too tall right now"

his face gets closer to yours as he talks.

"remus-"

"and i know that we never kissed, but even if it doesn't count, i'd prefer to stay on this fake heartbreak, just because it'd be because of you"

you can't handle it anymore, so you just kiss him, you grab his face and kiss him. you kiss him to shut him up, that's what you tell yourself.

when you pull away, he's grinning.

"that was just so you shut up" you tell him, but your hands don't leave his face, instead, they go to the back of his neck.

"sure"

"i meant it" you try to pull away, but his grip on your waist tightens, and one of his hands to the back of your neck.

"i'm gonna start talking again so you might need to shut me up again" he smirks.

you comply, happily.

I'm the real headcase I'm the real headcase Mm Yeah, I'm the real headcase

when you enter the great hall the next morning, remus walking in with you, your friends and his are sitting together.

so when you go sit with them, the stares you get are inevitable.

"so?" james starts, smirking.

"what?" you ask, already feeling the headache you're gonna get from this.

"did you sleep together?" marlene abruptly asks after a moment of silence.

"marlene!" you say.

"yes" remus says.

"remus!" you say again, hitting his arm.

"what? it's true!" he frowns.

"it's not" you say, sitting and focusing on your food.

"it is" everyone agrees, and you can't do anything but ignore them.

ᨳ  ׂ   𓈒  ⠀🌙 ㅤׂ  ✽   ੭

the next few weeks, you spend your days with remus, still not sure if you're dating or not, but neither of you care.

right now you're laying on his bed, reading a book, well, at least trying to, because remus is making it really hard. he's basically lying on top of you, stroking your hair and giving small pecks to your neck.

"can i ask you something?" he says after a while, lifting his head to look at you, but you focus on the book.

"sure" your eyes don't leave the book until you have no other choice, because certain someone just snatches it from your hand.

"do you want to be my girlfriend?" you freeze at his words, staring at him.

"i know it's not the best way of asking, i mean, you deserve something fancy, like chocolates or flowers, but i couldn't wait to ask you" he stares back at you, his eyes softer than ever. and all you can do is lean in and kiss him.

it's a sweet kiss, soft and short, and you think that it's enough as an answer, but you still reply.

"i'd love to" he kisses you again, and the book is long forgotten as his other hand goes to your waist, and the one in your hair goes to the back of your neck.

ᨳ  ׂ   𓈒  ⠀🌙 ㅤׂ  ✽   ੭

you walk into the gryffindor common room holding hands, and sit next to all of your friends, who look at you, suspiciously.

"what's happening?" sirius asks, pointing at your hands.

"what?" remus replies, and when you let go of his hand to pick up your book, his hand goes to your tight instead.

"why is your hand on my best friend's tight?" lily talks, frowning.

"i can't put my hand on my girlfriend's tight?" remus makes sure to emphasise the word girlfriend, and you're almost sure everyone stops breathing.

"what" marlene breaks the silence, "since when?"

"like two weeks ago" you mutter, still reading your book.

this time, the reactions come almost immediately.

"what!" mary screams.

"and you didn't tell us?" lily looks offended.

"we have to throw a party to celebrate!" james and sirius say at the same time, high fiving after that.

"when's the wedding?" marlene asks.

"next year" remus replies, and that makes you look away from your book.

"what!?" all of you ask, except remus.

"since when?!" lily frowns at you.

"i don't know!" you look at remus.

"we're already engaged" he says.

"what!?" you all say again, and he just rolls his eyes.

"we aren't engaged" you clarify.

"she's just in denial" remus tells everyone.

"you haven't asked!" lily frowns at that.

"you'd say yes!?" she asks.

everyone stops everything and looks at you, slowly getting more flustered, and at remus, who's grinning like he hasn't before.

"what if we get married next week?" he asks.

"no!" lily replies before you can.

#remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x reader #young remus lupin #young marauders #young lily evans #young sirius black #young james potter #kissing #the marauders era #the marauders #remus x you #remus lupin #based on a song

[crappymixtape]

just listen

you’re so sick of seeing them, seeing her put her hands all over him at parties and can’t they just find a goddamn room? but then something happens and you have no idea how it's you who wound up in a room with him | ( 1.8k – all the angst with a sprinkle of fluff, friends to something? steve x you, steve x reader )

J U S T L I S T E N 🎶 there she goes, valley

The music at the party was so loud you couldn’t hear anything. Not even your own thoughts. Especially with the way Tommy was yelling about his third keg stand, but fuck if you could read her lips from across the room. The way she was looking up at him. All doe-eyed and shining and smiling and touching.

C’mon, please? she whined.

And then she pushed up onto her toes to put her mouth to the shell of his ear. Whispered. Her fingers spidering up his chest and moving to tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck. The ones you knew were so soft. The ones you wished you could run your hands through.

Steve.

And when he laughed you knew it was pulled from his lungs by whatever she’d said.

You think you’re cute, huh? you saw his lips form around the words and she giggled a little before fisting his shirt in her hand and pulling him down to press her lips to his.

Hers.

Not yours.

Hers all soft and pink and glossy.

Hers all over him at this party.

Hers all pressed against his car every time he gets off work and as they walk out of the diner and flickering in the light from the bonfires down at the quarry.

Hers as she lay draped next to his pool on a lounger in the summer heat, all lilacs and baby blues and blonde hair spun like gold. Like the sun. Like an actual fucking goddess and the way she held his attention – impossible to shatter.

You felt your chest squeeze. Felt your heart sink into your stomach. Wilting and aching, but you couldn’t pull your eyes from them. Couldn’t look away from how his hands slipped around her waist, the way her body fitted up against his perfectly and when they finally parted his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

Yours still there.

Still wanting.

Still looking.

Caught.

Bumping into everyone as you turned and shoved your way through the sea of people, you scrambled to find an out. Slipped on the bottom step of the staircase and climbed up and away from the party, music fading as you reached the landing. Your heart thudded heavy against your ribcage so loudly you swore you could hear it.

Swallowing thick, you tried the first door on your left only to find Jason Carver attached at the mouth to whatever flavor of the week he was on.

“Ugh, gross,” you huffed and slammed the door shut, Jason’s stupid laugh blunted behind it.

The next room you tried was smaller, but empty and quiet and just what you needed, so you fell inside and quietly shut the door behind you. Leaned your back against it and slid down to the floor. Sat in silence for a moment and wondered at what it would be like to know someone would come looking for you if you disappeared at a party.

Wondered what it would be like to have Steve Harrington stop mid-sentence because he couldn’t see you anymore. Because he cared. Wanted to check on you. Wanted to ask, Hey what’s wrong, baby? What can I do to help, baby?

Baby.

But the longer you sat the more the disappointment settled at the pit of your stomach. The more you realized it would never happen. The more you realized it would just be you alone in the black of the room and you felt tears burn at the corners of your eyes.

You should’ve left.

Pressing the palms of your hands to your eyes you sucked in a breath and held it, tried so hard to wrap up every stupid little feeling and shove it back down, but a knock at the door made you freeze.

A gasp stuck in your throat, you scrambled to your feet and stepped away from the door as though it were scalding hot.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Uh–” whoever it was cleared their throat and shuffled on their feet, their shadow playing at the bottom of the door, “–anybody in here?”

Oh, god. They probably wanted the bed.

“Yea–b–busy!” you blurted and then turned bright red at how it sounded, hands clasped over your mouth. A muffled chuckle sounded on the other side and slowly the doorknob turned.

“Can I come in?” asked so gently, carefully, words warm and soft like melted butter and your heart skipped a beat.

Steve.

Oh god, oh fuck, oh shit. What was he doing?

The door creaked on its hinges as he peered into the room, his silhouette all deep indigos and lush violets against the dim light of the hallway. Even there in the dark he was pretty.

“Can I come in?” he asked again and you shook yourself, blinked away the daze you were swimming in and nodded your head.

“Y-yeah, sure,” you stumbled over your words and felt your cheeks grow warm again, thankful he wouldn’t see.

Making his way into the room he left the door open just a crack, but closed enough that it still provided some privacy. Sat with a little sigh on the edge of the bed and ran his hands through his hair. Looked at you like you were a puzzle, small smile playing on his lips.

“How come you ran away?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Ran away?”

“Yeah. After I kissed Stacey.”

Because I wanted to kiss you. Because Stacey doesn’t deserve you. Because I hate it here.

“Hey, you work at Community Plate, right? And I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you in my Intro to Econ class…”

Wait, what? How did he–

“Yeah, but…you’ve literally never talked to me,” fell out and you knew you should’ve been embarrassed, but for some reason it didn’t matter anymore.

He laughed, a deep warm thing and your stomach flipped over.

“Sorry, I’m not good with words,” he poked fun at himself and scooted over on the bed, a silent invitation for you to sit next to him and you took it.

“Makes two of us,” you grumbled and he chuckled again, rested his hands on the tops of his thighs and took a sidelong glance at you.

“What if I told you I wanted to talk to you,” he said, a statement not a question, and your eyes flicked up to look at him.

“Bullshit.”

Another laugh, louder this time, kind of clumsy and goofy and it pulled a smile out of you.

“Not bullshit,” he reassured you, the word burning a bit around the edges as he was reminded of what Nancy had told him back in high school. “Stacey’s…” he started, but drifted off, thinking, “I dunno. Easy?”

“Wow.”

“Shit–not like that,” he scrambled quickly to correct himself, shifting on the bed uncomfortably. “I just mean easy like–” he waved a hand haphazardly in the air as though it would help him to gather up his words, “–fuck. She’s Stacey. She likes to go to shopping and get her nails done and watch soaps.” He loosed a sigh and roughed his hands over his face, deflated. Defeated. Not very Steve Harrington.

“Don’t you like that? It’s like…your type.”

“My type, yeah. Well. No one ever asks me.”

Quiet settled between you on the bed at his admission and you felt a tiny pinch of guilt between your ribs. Picked at the chipped nail polish on your fingers and bit at the inside of your cheek.

“Okay. What is your type?” you broke the silence, a little shy, a little bold, a little you and it made his brows lift in surprise.

“Shit–I dunno. Uh, eats pizza? And junk food. And doesn’t care if my friends are all a bunch of fuckin’ weirdos,” he laughed at his last requirement and you did too, but then he grew a bit more serious. Hummed in thought as if considering whether or not he wanted to set free the words sitting on his tongue. “Likes to go on drives with me. Doesn’t think swimming in the quarry is gross. Isn’t afraid to call me on my bullshit,” he looked over at you as soon as he stopped talking and waited. Watched to see your reaction. Wondered what you were thinking and you held his gaze, didn’t shy away.

“Don’t know if you know, but I just did that last thing,” you snarked and his nerves cracked, pushed a laugh from his lungs and he leaned back on his elbows.

“Thanks for that," he was only a little sarcastic, but then his smile softened as he looked at you. Really looked and you looked back.

Took each other in as you sat in the deep indigo shadows that fell across the room. Wondered how it was that Steve Harrington actually came looking for you. That he wasn't a gigantic douchebag. That he was just as pretty this close as he was from across the room.

Hair swept messy across his forehead, shirt with one button undone at the top, eyes dark in the low light, but still warm like amber and honey. Your chucks bumping against his Blazers, tight curls protesting against the hair tie you'd tangled them into, lips twisting as you tried to keep a straight face–

“This party sucks.”

Steve fell on his back and laughed, groaning into his hands as he covered his face with his hands.

“God, it sucks so hard.”

Then it was your turn to hum in thought, trying to work out what had just transpired between you and Steve Harrington. Trying to decide if it was worth one more little risk. Trying to decide if maybe just maybe–

“Wanna go for a drive?” your voice was steadier than before, but wavered a little as he pushed back up onto his hands.

“A drive?”

“Yeah. Pizza or something,” you joked, poking at him from earlier and he gave you a tentative smile.

“Pizza. Or something.”

“Or whatever? I dunno, forget it,” you felt yourself fold quicker than you'd wanted and stood from the bed, cheeks flushed and hot and embarrassed and ready to leave, but he caught your hand and pulled you back.

“Wait–where are you going?”

You didn’t know.

“Don’t run away again,” he was soft. Warm and genuine and it made you turn around, "Please?"

He was standing with you now, your hand still held tight in his, the callouses on the pads of his fingers rough on your skin. You could hear your heart in your ears again and you thought maybe you could hear his too.

“I do. Wanna go for a drive.”

“What about Stacey?”

“She’s not my type.”

You felt something swell in your chest, bright and blooming like wildflowers in a field and it made you smile. Made you feel stupid. Made you feel hopeful and as he looked down Steve gave you the same stupid smile right back.

“I don’t have a car,” you admitted and he scoffed.

“Oh. I got you covered,” and he pulled his keys from his pocket, tried to twirl them around his finger and dropped them almost immediately. You stifled a laugh and snorted instead and he let out a strangled sound as he bent over to grab them, “Alright, I’m not smooth. Spoiler alert.”

“I’m learning so much,” you teased and he crammed his keys back into his pocket, giving you a lopsided grin.

“I don’t like pineapple on my pizza either,” he joked lamely and you tried to laugh, but it stuck in your throat as he took your hand again, a little tentative, a little confident.

“You know, on second though, can we get it to go?” you asked and his mouth dropped into a little ‘o’.

“Uh–ye-yeah. Totally. Definitely.”

“Cool, there’s a bluff just outside of town where you can see–”

“–I know exactly where that is. My buddy Dustin has a–uh, never mind,” his cheeks flushed a little as he pulled you both back into the sliver of light from the hallway. “I’ll explain on the way,” and with that he led you back down the stairs. Wove you expertly through the sea of people and out the door without a backward glance.

As you climbed into his BMW you wondered what else you'd learn about Steve Harrington tonight. But mostly you wondered if maybe, you might just be his type.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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