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ilys00ga · 3 months

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𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀, 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘀.

➞ pair: yoongi x reader.

➞ genre: hurt/comfort (why do I keep making these lmao), established relationships, I'm so bad at tagging sorry.

➞ warnings: angst and fluff cuz we all need that (we really do). reader has anxiety and abandonment issues, yoongi is trying his best for the sake of both of them, just relationship things.

➞ A/N: requested by @parkjennykim, this was very fun to write! thanks for yet another idea <3 I hope u like it. I'm organizing this blog/post (?) while listening to mono, and let me tell yall, it's such a vibe omg. I think you should read this while listening to that album, I love it sm, I can't even begin to explain UGH- if namjoon ever goes on a world tour, he better perform every single song in that album, cuz imma be losing my mind in the crowd, esp during moonchild. my vocal cords are already getting sore. yeah. if u want this to hit that spot, maybe u should do what I said (this is a friendly order, if u will). if not, just enjoy and pls ignore any mistakes, english has been challenging me recently (for the last 10 years lmao)

ps. I am in a dire need of a yoongi in my life. specifically the one I wrote in this one. oh how I love being a lonely fanfic writer <33

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

God knows how long it had been after it hit midnight when Yoongi stood in the kitchen. His eyes were red and heavy with drowsiness, but he couldn't sleep that night.

How does one sleep through a restless, biting night?

Surely not with a bad headache, or overflowing thoughts, and especially not with guilt chewing on his core.

He gulped, throat begging to be quenched as it held onto a slight, delicious, yet bothersome burning sensation. He opened the fridge and filled a glass with some water, raising it to his lips when loud a cry of his name, followed with a thud and a number of sobs, disturbed the quiet of the night and made him jump, startled.

His limbs froze in their place, glass almost slipping his hand and crashing on the floor when his sleep deprived brain realized that the muffled cries were yours.

Wide awake, he dashed after the sound. Thirst and sleep no longer occupied his mind, all he could think of was holding you in his arms.

He found you on the stairs, trembling as you wailed into your hands.

He hated it so much: seeing you in pain. He wanted nothing more than to shield you from the rainfall of your gloomy sky, from his own rainfall, from the world. How could one be an umbrella and the rain at once?

He blinked, once, twice, then gulped and heaved a deep, tired breath.

One storm doesn’t require another storm to be calmed down, that he knew. One needs to be composed and collected to stand still during a storm, that he knew as well.

With worried eyes, he gently called out your name and walked up to you, “darling, what’s wrong?”

You looked up as soon as you heard his worried voice, some tiny sense of relief washed over you when you saw him right there. A hundred daggers digged so deep into his heart and bones, aching, the moment a broken whimper of his name fell from your lips.

Without a second thought, Yoongi hugged your face to his chest. One of his hands was patting your back and the other affectionately caressed your head.

As he listened to his name that never left your lips, Yoongi held you there on the cold of the stairs with nothing but sweet nothings whispered back to your ears.

Everything he did and said was so gentle and soft, like he was so afraid you'd crack and come to tiny bits and pieces at any given moment. It all made you want to cry even harder, to hold him so tight and never let go.

Soon, when your tears started winding down, pulled away and cradled your face with his hands, palms faintly pressing on your cheeks as if he hoped to share their warmth with you.

Tender eyes met your wet ones and stared as their owner’s voice made its way through the noise of your sniffles and hiccups. He said, “It’s alright. I'm here. Talk to me, hmm?”

You answered his plea with a small nod, before wiping your tear stained skin and hugging him again. He smelt like home. You took a deep breath, greedily feeding your lungs with his lovely scent.

He hugged you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body closer to his. He pressed light kisses on your temple, patiently waiting for you to talk.

“I had a really scary nightmare. so, so scary- I woke up, didn’t find you there- then…then I remembered the fight we had earlier. I…I thought I lost you- I'm sorry. sorry for the stupid things I said earlier. I love you so much! please don’t leave. please..”

Your voice quivered with fresh tears ready to be spilled again. Yoongi started hushing you as soon as he noticed that you were working yourself up.

Squeezing you in his arms, he whispered “I never left, and I never will.”

“I’m all right, nothing happened to me, see?” he leaned away just enough to allow you to take a quick look at his body, then added, “a stupid fight is not going to make me leave. I love you way too much for that, and I'm sorry for hurting you too.”

He could still read fear and uncertainty all over your face, and he didn't like that. He knew that you trusted him, and he didn't doubt your love for him.

At first, he didn't get it. He didn't understand the insecurities, the anxiety and the nightmares you suffered from especially after the inevitably worst of arguments that happened between you and him. But after longer and deeper talks, with you expressing your feelings and him listening with careful ears, it made much more sense to him.

Sometimes he hated himself for triggering your alarms and making it harder for you, but he knew it was neither his fault nor was it yours.

Growth and pain are two key elements that come arm in arm with love, and fights are an unpreventable part of any kind of relationship. For all that, he always ended up blaming himself for making you question your worth to him when he can't even sleep without you happily cuddling his side.

Softly, lovingly, he started prepping tender kisses over your cheeks, nose, forehead, chin, temples, all over your flushed face.

It worked like watching waving fields of green wheat dancing with the wind, your storm started to slowly die down and your heart felt at ease again. slowly, but definitely.

Smiling ever so affectionately, Yoongi sealed his reassurance with a loving kiss that consumed you whole, and it left the corners of your mouth curving up in a dazzling smile. You nuzzled his chest and sighed.

“I really hate fighting with you.” you mumbled into his clothed chest, drained and light headed from all the crying and nearly-a-panic-attack you went through.

“I know, I'm sorry. I hate it too." he whispered back.

There was a pause of comfortable silence, with both of you breathing each other in, before he wondered aloud: “did you fall down the stairs? are you okay?”

You chuckled breathily at his question, recalling the hysteria he had to deal with just a few minutes ago. But Yoongi was there, right beside you. your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso, right by your side.

He had some kind of exceptionally irrepressible magic in those fierce eyes and that gummy smile of his, you inarguably couldn’t be more grateful for that.

“I'm alright. Was too busy crying, I didn’t even feel a thing to be honest.” you said, and he giggled.

“I love when you’re clumsy like that, but please be more careful, muffin. Can’t have you hurting yourself because of me even more." Even with your face buried into the crook of his neck, you could feel and hear the heavy pout in that comment.

Huffing, you leaned away with furrowed brows and a strict gaze. Yoongi gulped. Hesitation took over him, yet he knew that honesty is the only thing that must be present to drive this conversation to an end.

Honestly brings clarity, he found himself reminding himself of that very often.

"as long as we take care of each other, it's okay. I love you." you affirmed, and perhaps Yoongi almost teared up because of the way you looked at him right then and there. He wouldn't utter a word to spoil that information out loud, though.

The shy grin and the flushed cheeks you were met with were worth risking the entire world and its eight billion residents. You couldn't help but smile and pull him into another hug.

"This is great and all, but my butt is numbed. I think there's no blood flowing down there anymore," he said, his heart swooning when you giggled at his humorous change of topic, so relieved that he was finally able to hear your brightness again.

"Let's go back to rest, darling." He stood up, grabbed your hand and squeezed it in his, then gently pulled your body up and dragged you to your shared bedroom, where everything and everyone else meant little to nothing at all as you laid in each other's arms.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #bts scenarios #bts yoongi #yoongi angst #hurt/comfort #suga fluff #bts fluff #suga angst #suga fic #abandoment issues #bts imagines #bts fic

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littlejuicebox · 5 months

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LittleJuicebox Masterlist

Click here for my AO3 account. (Converting is a WiP).

If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please DM me and I can send you the google doc link. I have decided to keep tag lists for each individual series so you only get tagged in the ones you want.

My personal favorites are denoted by a +.

GN reader is denoted by a * otherwise assume Fem reader/OC.

Titles colored red are smut or other mature themes, 18+ only.

AstarionxWren Series:

This is a canon-adjacent passion project which focuses on Astarion and Wren, a ranger half-elf with her own backstory. She is based off my first Tav. Do you like angsty slow burns where two broken people find one another and learn to love again? Then this one is for you.

Chapter 1 / Chasing birds to get high (PG) + Chapter 2 / Between comfort and chaos (PG) Chapter 3 / Sunshine and midnight rain (PG13) + Chapter 4 / Protect the flames (M/Gore) Chapter 5 / Blue and silver bonded (PG13) Chapter 6 / Remember how it feels to have a heartbeat (PG13) Chapter 7 / Give peace a chance (M/Smut) + Chapter 8 / Dancing in a burning room (M/Gore) Chapter 9 / Lavender haze (PG-PG13?) Chapter 10 / I want to hold your hand (PG13)

Midnight Chimes Series:

Your parents own a tavern in Baldur’s Gate, and Astarion was somewhat of a regular when you worked at the bar in your younger years. You don’t exactly trust him. Now you’re an apothecary owner based in Waterdeep, and when the two of you crash on the beach, you aren’t exactly thrilled to see him there, too. But things aren’t always what they seem.

1 / The Prologue +

2 / Three years

3 / Luck +

4/ Ringleader

Midwinter Carol Series:

Eirianwen and Astarion were in love before the Ascension ritual changed his behavior toward her. She refused to become a spawn, and they went their separate ways. The story starts when they run into one another fifteen years later; Eirianwen returned to the city to deliver some news to the pale elf. Meanwhile, the Ascendant had a night time visitor that convinced him to change his ways, and he believes his ex-lover might be the key. Will he be able to change after fifteen years of living life as a debauched degenerate?

1 / The Prologue +

2 / The Barrier

3 / The Carriage

4 / The Auction +

5/ The Repeat

6/ The Affliction

7/ The Interrogation

8/ The Scheme

9/ The Snake

AstarionxReader One Shots and Mini-Stories:

Mini-Stories are grouped together in order and denoted by a “Part X” in sequential order after the title. These are in general "timeline" order and follow my (admittedly self-indulgent) headcanon for Spawn Astarion x Tav but can definitely be read as OneShots. All stories are AstarionxReader, some allusions to reader having spellcaster ability but otherwise no real description apart from being female in about 3/4 of the fics.

Act 1-2:

The little things.

Before someone steals your queen

Act 3:

Drunken nights*+

The nail salon

You'll stay still, won't you, little love? +

Post-BG3:

Mermaid whiskey+

Baking Cookies*

Astarion talks in his sleep Part 1*+

My Sun, My Moon Part 2+

Glowing in the Underdark+

Reflections on one year of marriage

Highharvestide Part 1

Highharvestide Part 2

Handmade+

Dadstarion:

The wish spell worked.+

Daddy?

Little bump.

Labor and joy

Skin to skin.

Milk.+

Little lockpick.

Beach babies.+

A growing brood.

Puppy love.

Stuck.

Pre-BG3 / Random / Ascended Astarion OneShots

Midnight chimes / The Original One Shot

Pre-BG3. You’ve known Astarion for years… or at least, you’ve known of him. You think he’s a rake, but one night he changes your mind. The series "Midnight Chimes" started based off this "prologue."

A Midwinter Carol / The Original One Shot

“A Christmas Carol” but Ascended Astarion is Scrooge. He sees you after your break up 15 years ago, and then has an unexpected nighttime visitor showing him past, present, and future. Will he be convinced to change his ways? The series "Midwinter Carol" started based off this "prologue."

Naughty or Nice?

You’re Ascended Astarion’s little toy in the middle of a party. TLDR; he’s tease and a BDSM dom.

Dancing on my own

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livingemkayde · 8 months

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ch vi. bruises

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter six of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. ooof okay where to start, smut unprotected p in v, mentions of bruising from sex? fighting like actual real life fist fighting, rough but sweet sex, grinding, lowkey some cockwarming?? kinda unwanted kissing, tommy being annoying and somewhat overbearing, and unwanted touching, but not sexual. caroline. just, caroline. because she deserves her own warning for this one. no use of y/n.

summary: everything comes to a head at tommy's birthday party.

a/n: this is genuinely the longest part/chapter thing i've ever written so enjoy. tommy is really annoying in this one, im still deciding if he's going to have a redemption arc. sorry this took so long. as always, i love you all so much. MY TUMBLR LITERALLY SHIT ITS PANTS WHEN I TRIED TO EDIT THE TAGLIST SO IM SORRY IF YOU GUYS GOT TAGGED LIKE 400 TIMES.

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel says, almost a whisper. You’re still not sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy. You can't take your eyes off Tommy’s gaze. From the looks of it, Joel’s question makes Tommy more angry and way more confused. “Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.” But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen.

You can almost remember it like it was yesterday.

A few weeks back, the first time you invited Tommy in for a drink after dinner. Sarah was asleep back at the house, Joel was doing — god knows what. The sun was set, the mosquitoes were probably out, and there was a quiet, even maybe too quiet silence when Tommy pulled up to your house.

He had asked what the rest of your plans were for the night.

You had said nothing much, not knowing it was an invitation — he stayed till 2 a.m. that night.

But it was okay. Because he made you laugh and you enjoyed his company. He was interesting. Tommy told you about how he never wanted to go into contracting in the first place. About his broken bones, his all time biggest regrets, how he was smitten with his old high school flame turned mean cheerleader until graduation.

It was the first time you ever realized he was — well — his own person in the sense. Not just Joel’s younger brother. But Tommy. Tommy Miller.

Maybe in another life Tommy might’ve even been good for you. A perfect pair — a match. He wasn’t mean and brooding and he certainly didn’t have 12 years on you.

And he made you smile. And he was genuinely—genuinely interested in your life. Your post grad prospects, college, books, and even how you played soccer just like Sarah when you were younger.

But when he leaned in that night, closer to you than ever before. You froze. Like genuinely frozen, and you couldn’t even dare to look down to his slowly approaching lips, let alone how his arms caged you in.

“First kiss?” you remember him asking.

You had just stuttered out nonsense, not wanting to breathe too hard and run the risk of pushing your lips flush with his.

“I — um —” you nervously laughed. You couldn’t even think—not in the way you should—not when the first person that comes to mind when Tommy says, kiss is his brother.

He had leaned in closer then—more tentative. Like you were a scared deer in headlights or a frightened kitten and he was inching forward, wanting to move closer.

But you didn’t really do — anything.

And he had pulled back a bit, gave you a teasing look and a ruffle on the head and continued with the conversation.

In all honesty you were scared that he might've been inching forward to kiss you. The small fear settling through a slightly erratic heartbeat and nervous laughs.

You were scared then, but can’t really remember the last time you’ve felt this kind of fear.

Hurt, discomfort, shock, maybe.

And although it was being quickly replaced with anger, you don’t remember this feeling — this kind of fear. Not even the kind you get from watching a scary movie — where you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins and then dissipating when the screen goes dark, and the lights turn back on and all you have to worry about is if the scary nun from the big screen will appear in your dreams.

You can remember all the last times you’ve gotten mad, sure. Mainly at the Miller brothers.

But never fear — well, not until right now.

Because whoever that Tommy was is definitely not the same guy staring back at you right now, with a bruised fist, an angry look swirled with hurt marked permanently on his face and one emotion that you can definitely place behind his eyes — jealousy.

Some hours earlier.

You spread colorful tablecloth over the mismatched tables in Joel’s backyard. The string lights are being hung up, Joel stands on a ladder towards your right, the sound of a hammer echoing through the small backyard.

You pick your phone out of your back pocket, checking the time. You also find it in you to check Tommy’s texts again, but no other messages have been sent since last night. You look down at your phone — at the messages — and sit against one of the tables.

Yesterday:

You: can we talk in person?

Tommy Miller: I’ll see you tomorrow at the party?

You hadn’t seen the text until this morning, when Joel and you found it in yourselves to get out of bed, have a shower, and start setting up for the party. So when you saw it, you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

You’re a bit nervous at the prospect. You did not want to talk to him at his party—honestly just trying to text him so that the air would be cleared for the party.

But his words echo in your mind.

“Just think ‘bout it before you say no.”

You let out a cursed sigh.

Tommy had to know. Right?

If he knew the dreaded ‘no’ was already braced on your lips he had to know. That this thing between you and Tommy would never work out. That you’re way better as friends. That it would ruin everything — the dynamics of it all — that you were smitten with his brother and you guys had just slept together for the second time without Tommy’s knowledge and that—

“Alright?”

Joel stands in front of you, dipping his head to see a scowl marked on your face. You quickly — maybe even too quickly — forget about the messages, hell, forget about Tommy.

Because Joel looks handsome. He’s always handsome, you’ve thought since the moment you met him at the bar. There’s something intoxicating about him, his arms, the curve of his neck. His brooding nature does him justice — a uniqueness about him that makes you want to uncover more, learn more, see more.

You remember last night—very vividly through small ebbs and flows of sleep. The moonlight seeped into your skin as you both rolled around in gray sheets.

It makes your cheeks heat a bit at the thought.

You remember everything. Every little detail. You don’t think you’ll ever forget.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket.

“Yeah, sorry. ‘S just…” you trail off, he nods his head in understanding, coming closer to you.

He braces his hands on either side of your body, caging you in. Your faces study each other’s mere inches apart.

“Tablecloth givin’ you trouble?” Joel teases in a soft whisper, looking down at your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Funny,” you say with a grin and run your tongue over your lips.

“You need help, baby, all you gotta do is ask.” Joel’s small smile plays on his lips for a fleeting second. You miss it as soon as it’s gone.

“Duly noted. But I’m not the one who’s been hanging up string lights for the past hour.”

He pats your ass a bit, teasing you and pushing out a playful sigh.

“Perfection takes time.”

Joel’s beginning to dip his head to kiss you, but you find it in you to bite back.

“And yet the left side’s still lower than the right,” you whisper, pulling your head back slightly. He turns quickly to look at the fence, but gives you a harder slap on your ass when he realizes the lights are, in fact, straight.

Joel chuckles, pushing off from the table, you turn back around to continue fixing the cloths, and look back at him over your shoulder.

He’s looking back at you too.

“You’re killin’ me,” he says, and you smile to yourself when you turn back around.

You look around the backyard and check your phone for the millionth time since the party started. You can hear Sarah running around, screaming a bit while jumping into the pool. But your brows furrow when you find that Tommy still hasn’t texted you.

You spot a tuft of red hair swinging through your vision and spin to find Janet Baker squeezing through the crowd.

“Janet!” you say, approaching her quickly. You’re happy to see her—Tommy didn’t invite many people you’re familiar with.

“Hey, Doll. Thanks for the invite!” she says, pulling you into a quick hug, but when she sees the look on your face, her mouth drops into a frown. “Sweetie, you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I—Tommy didn’t…I don’t really know anyone here,” you reply while sheepishly looking around the small, bustling backyard. It’s the kind of feeling you try your best to avoid. Like everyone is in on some secret joke that you have no clue about. Or everyone knows each other and you can’t even put faces to names because you don’t know any names—like right now.

“‘S fine—I’m happy to see you made it,” you let out a defeated chuckle.

“‘F course, baby. Charlotte really wanted to see Sarah,” she nods towards the girls in the pool, Charlotte’s red hair looking strikingly similar to the woman standing in front of you. Janet seems to be on her second drink of the afternoon, you saw her tipping back a solo cup out of the corner of your eye earlier.

“What are you drinking?” you ask her, nodding at her cup.

“Someone brought a fancy lookin’ wine I popped open,” she says, giving you a sly smile. “Why don’t we get you a drink? You’ll like this,” she says, you don’t have much time to react, she’s already pulling you towards the drink station.

You both settle into a comfortable silence, looking around the backyard while Janet pours your drink.

“So,” she says, giving you a wink.

“So…” you echo, sending a nervous laugh her way.

“Who’s that girl,” she nods towards Caroline while passing you a cup, you take a big sip, Janet fills it back up to the top without a second glance.

“Caroline,” you say looking at her and Joel. They’re talking to some other people, a small group of them congregating by the barbecue.

“Caroline…” Janet tests out on her tongue, willing you to continue.

“Caroline—Joel’s,” you can’t help but chuckle. “date. I guess.”

“That bother you?” she says, finishing the bottle of wine while the two of you walk back towards the edge of the pool so she can watch Charlotte and Sarah.

“Nope,” you say, and it’s not a lie. Sure, it might be a little weird to see another woman clinging to his arm after yesterday. But you know now. And that’s all that matters.

“Joel can—” you laugh again, “—Joel can do what he likes.”

Janet stops walking suddenly. You tear your gaze away from Joel and look at her with a confused furrowed brow.

“Sweetie…” she says with eyes that look way too knowing for your comfort or peace of mind.

“Janet…?” you say, though her gaze just intensifies.

“You mean to tell me it happened since I last saw you?”

Your eyes widen, a shocked look crosses your face and you quickly try to replace it with a bad mask of confusion.

“W-what? I—”

“Don’t lie to me, doll,” she warns, and she looks like she really means it.

“Janet…” you say in a not as effective and halfhearted warning tone back.

“Don’t you dare,” she wags her finger—a final warning.

What has gotten into you and why can’t you find it in yourself to lie to this woman?

“Don’t te—” she gasps, “Janet, I mean it. Do not tell anyone.”

She shuts her half open mouth and makes the my lips are sealed motion across her face. You laugh while stealing a glance at Joel.

“I told you,” she whispers to you in a hush, joining your eyeline towards Joel.

You stay silent for a moment, just taking everything and everyone in—but at the same time just looking at Joel. when you finally break the silence you’re a bit shocked at your question. You’ve never talked about Joel like this with someone who actually knows him. Everything has always been a secret—like you were supposed to be ashamed or something. You never were.

“How did you know?” you ask, hushed. You’re not sure she’ll even hear you.

“Would love to say it was intuition, sweetie—but—it was him. It was written all over his face.”

You stayed with Janet for the better portion of the hour, all through silent peaks at your phone to see if Tommy had texted you. When it was getting to the point where people were getting curious, you’ve just about had your limit.

You approach Joel quickly, you don’t miss Caroline’s stunned face but you really can’t be bothered with—that—right now.

“Joel?” you ask, pulling at his arm a bit, he excuses himself from the group and follows you towards the backyard's edge.

“Where the hell is your brother?” you whisper.

“He’s not here?” he asks, the same hushed tone also pushing through his voice at your question.

“No! I called him, but he’s not responding,” you pipe back while pulling out your phone. Though the lack of notifications from Tommy—just as before—tells you enough.

You both look at each other for a fleeting second. But the same worried look is probably etched on both your faces — fuck.

“This fuckin’ guy,” Joel mutters under his breath while pulling out his own phone and then putting it up to his ear.

You pace around the small area you and Joel are in, observing the unfamiliar faces.

“Nothin’,” Joel grovels, taking a peak over the fence towards the street to see if Tommy's truck has pulled up. “I’ll try ‘im again — just — you should mingle,” he says, still looking down at his phone.

“‘S fine. I don’t really know anyone here anyways,” you say absentmindedly, looking through your phone for Tommy’s contact and putting your phone up to your ear.

You hear yelling and shouting from the entrance to the backyard. You slowly lift your head, reluctant to tear your eyes away from frantic texts.

You spot him, in all his glory. Tommy Miller. Two hours late to his own birthday party—though he looks like he couldn’t care less, hugging old friends and new ones. He spots your eyes in the crowd and you can’t even be bothered to smile, a frown is almost permanently placed on your face—Late to your own birthday party?

He nods his head toward the house, a silent invitation to talk when he’s done greeting the guests. You nod back and turn to Joel, Tommy turns to everyone else.

“He’s here,” you say, pulling Joel out of his own phone, he does a double take towards the entrance and huffs out a groan.

“Goddamn idiot,” Joel says, running his palm over his eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go—” you say, nodding towards the house, towards Tommy.

“Yeah. Alright,” he replies, though he looks a bit concerned and unfocused, looking towards Tommy, then back to you, “You need me, ‘m there.”

“‘M not telling him about us on his birthday and It’s Tommy, Joel.”

Tommy—harmless.

Though Joel’s look sends a sweat to your palms for some reason. You don’t know why he’s worried.

It’s Tommy. It’s fine.

Right?

You hope as much as you make your way through the crowd. You beeline for the house and slip past the sliding doors into the kitchen where cups and bags of chips lay open and equally sprawled.

You can hear the door slide open and shut again behind you as you try and salvage the mess.

“Baby,” Tommy says, rounding the corner and coming close to you, “‘M sorry. The concrete guy was supposed to drop off the shipment tomorrow but he came today and needed a signature—”

“Tommy, it’s okay,” you almost have to will yourself to say. You also have to remember it’s his birthday.

He looks down.

“‘S okay. It’s your birthday. Happy birthday,” you reassure with a small smile.

“Looks great out there,” he says, fiddling with his phone in his hand.

“Thanks.”

You’re suddenly a bit nervous. You hadn’t really thought about everything that had happened when Tommy being late to his own birthday party was blanketing all the drama. But he’s here now, and you have no idea what to say. Maybe it would be better to not say anything at all—not address the fact that he asked you out, or you and Joel. But that guilty gnawing feeling eats you alive the longer you stand in silence.

“Joel helped you?”

“Yeah. I went shopping yesterday and dropped off the stuff here then we set it up this morning,” you say, nodding towards the backyard and then your car parked out front.

“You went shopping on your own?” he almost sounds offended.

“I wanted to go on my own.”

Tommy doesn't look convinced.

“Really, T. ‘S fine,” you brush off, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing your arms. He stares at you from the other side of the kitchen.

“Caroline here?” he asks, a hesitant look on his face as he switches from looking at the ground to your face—almost like he’s looking for a reaction.

“She’s out there somewhere,” you nod, keeping a neutral face masked with a small smile. “You should mingle. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

But he doesn’t move, he just keeps fiddling with the case on his phone again, looking down to the floor—his feet.

“I— you said you wanted to talk in person.”

Shit.

You both look at each other, waiting. A game of cat and mouse.

“It can wait, T. Enjoy your party,” you say, gesturing to the crowd outside.

“Is it about—is it about what happened Friday?”

“Tommy,” you say, almost warningly. This situation is shitty enough as is. You really don’t want to spoil everything—even if there’s nothing left to spoil.

He doesn’t say anything. His thumb fiddling with his phone is the only sound coming from inside the kitchen. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. Almost unbearable. You crack way quicker than you’d hope to last.

If he wants it like this, at his own birthday party, then so be it.

“Fine. I just—I wanted to…” you scramble for words but they jumble in your mind.

“I’m—” you fall short again. “About what you said. What you asked me. I don’t think that it’s…something I want. I’m—sorry.”

“You don’t think it’s something you want? Or you know that—”

“Tommy,” you say, giving him an awkward stifled laugh. Like he’s being childish with his response. Because he is. “I don’t—I’m sorry.”

He turns away from you suddenly, towards the window above the sink and just stares at it for a long time. You can see his chest puffing. When he finally turns back around, it’s different. It’s the Tommy you know.

“‘S okay,” He says.

Maybe he’ll get over it quickly—you hope.

“Are you okay? I’m—I mean I hope that this doesn’t change anything since I’m still gonna be around—” you lift your arm up to run a ragged hand across your forehead and through your hair, you don’t even notice that your shirt riding up, “— I just don’t want it to like—”

“What is that?”

Your eyes snap to Tommy’s, confused. You think he might be looking out the window again but his eyes trail to you, but lower. Like he’s looking at your hips—because he is. You’re still confused for a second, before examining your shirt, looking for stains or anything out of the ordinary. But you don’t find anything, your top spotless.

“What? I don’t—”

“No—” he takes a couple quick steps forward, into your space, you try to find his eyes—yours blown out with confusion and shock but his are trained and laser focused to your waistline.

“What’s—” he tries to pull up your shirt, you shove him back out of reflex. “You’re hurt, what happened t’you?”

He almost pins down your hands to see your skin under your shirt, dipping his head to look at your waist and hips and you suddenly know. You know there are hand shaped bruises littered across the skin of your waist, turning it deep purple. Handprints that match Joel’s exactly—almost like they’re burned into you. You saw it this morning. It’s why you didn’t bother to put on a swimsuit and decided to keep a top on instead.

What’s even worse is you know Tommy saw it too.

“Tommy!” you’re yelling now, fighting his grip.

You slip up, unable to get a good hold on his wrist like he now has on yours and he pushes the shirt up to reveal the bruises.

“What the hell is that?”

“Fucking—get off!” he backs away with your second shove, a different kind of look on his face. “Jesus,” you huff out, yanking your shirt back down.

You both stand there. A pregnant silence between you. You can almost hear the gears turning, he stares blankly. Putting it all together. Like maybe you’re not hurt, but you wanted it—wanted it from another man. Somewhere in the back of his mind he might keep wishing someone hurt you so he didn’t have to feel so betrayed. So when he asks, it’s like he doesn’t want to admit that it’s true—the quiet possibility of someone else in the picture.

“Who,” he says slowly, pointing down to your waist, “did that?”

“Tommy—” you say, but footsteps cut you off, you both turn your head to the entrance of the kitchen as Joel rounds the corner. He looks out of breath and his eyes flicker from Tommy and his finger pointing down at your waist then back to you.

“We alright in here?” Joel stands, hesitant, his fingers play with the bottom hem of his shirt in an anxious way. Like he doesn't know what he’s just walked in on—you’re not entirely sure you know the answer to that either. You aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy so you stay silent, waiting for the man in front of you to respond.

“Yup,” Tommy replies, too angry to be believable.

Joel looks at you but he doesn’t say anything. Not out loud.

No. You try to say with your eyes. We are definitely not alright in here.

“Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.”

But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen.

He stands beside you, putting a flat sprawled palm on Tommy’s chest and silently tries to push him backward. But Tommy breaks first, pushing Joel’s hand off him, staggering back while looking at you and Joel.

And maybe he gets it then, you think. Because Tommy lets out a deep chuckle—like you’ve got clown makeup on. Like he’s never seen anything more funny. He’s a lot of things but he is not fucking stupid. So he looks past Joel to your eyes. To your face, almost covered—ridden—in guilt and he can see everything.

“Really?” Tommy says, not sparing Joel a glance.

“You put your fuckin’ hands on her?” Tommy says, almost at a whisper which makes it all the more intimidating. You can see Joel’s back puff, his anger rising. But you also know Joel would never hurt his brother. Not on purpose.

But you’re scared. You’re really fucking scared in this moment because Tommy is entirely too worked up and you know whatever excuse Joel is going to say won’t help.

“Easy,” Joel says, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

You’re sweating. The hot summer of July in Austin getting to you. They stare at each other for a long time. Like at the kitchen table, like when you all first met. But this time, Tommy breaks, and his eyes flicker to yours, he takes a tiny step to the side so he can see you better.

“Is this why? Is this why you’re fuckin’—jesus, fuck. ‘S this why he went to get you a tire?” you stand, you can’t really say anything, your stunned figure doesn’t move.

“He hurt you,” Tommy breathes out, his voice almost breaking if he wasn’t so angry. You shake your head.

You both know that the bruises aren’t from hurt. That they’re far from it.

“He didn’t,” you reply.

“No, no, baby. He’s—you’re—” Tommy almost looks like he can’t believe it, shaking his head, switching between you and Joel. The look you give him shuts him up, and makes him back away, until Joel unclenches his fists and relaxes his shoulder a fraction.

“I didn’t really want to tell you like this, I was—”

“Fucking my brother?” he bites back, interrupting you.

That makes you a bit mad. You’re not in love with his attitude, nor his tone. It’s not like he has any right. It’s not like either of them do.

Joel moves to speak but you do it first.

“Don’t give me that,” you say, almost laughing, though the situation is not funny, not in the slightest. “We’re not dating, Tommy. We never were.”

Caroline strides in at that, looking at the scene unfolding in the kitchen. She stops short of the three of you, her mouth slightly agape. You roll your eyes, fucking perfect. Let’s just bring the party in here instead. You’ll give it to the woman. She has impeccable timing.

“Needed some napkins…” she trails off, holding the empty napkin stand in her right hand up so everyone can see. “I—I can come back.”

“Did you know?” Tommy turns to her, gesturing to you and Joel.

“Tommy,” Joel says from in front of you, a warning. Tommy ignores him.

“Did you know?” he asks again, Caroline stares back shocked. But she does consider it, rolls the idea around in her head before speaking.

“Them two?” Tommy nods. “Her?”

Okay. You really don’t love that tone. You silently chastise yourself for thinking she was nice at the bar when your first instinct was that she was a bitch—because she is. You were waiting for her snarky undertones or spoiled takes to show. You knew it was coming, you just didn’t know when.

“No, ‘f couse not.” She’s almost laughing, like it could never be possible. It hits you harder than you’ll ever admit. “She’s — you’re…young,” she says, looking at you.

Tommy gestures to you and Joel like he’s saying, well believe it, because it’s true.

Joel moves faster than you can comprehend. He’s got a tight grip on Tommy’s arm. He probably doesn’t even have to say anything, Tommy knows what’s happening. But Joel warns him anyway—again.

“Quit,” he growls. You’d guess this might be the point where Tommy usually backs down. But this situation is far from usual.

“Or what?” Tommy bites back. When Joel doesn’t respond he continues. “You gonna mark me up? Leave me all black and blue?”

Tommy doesn’t stop there, you try to move past Joel but he stops you, turns his head to you slightly, a hardened look in his eye.

“Oh, I forgot you’d probably like that, huh?”

Joel remains frozen for a couple fleeting seconds before whipping around and pushing Tommy into the back counter. You’re rooted to your place, you don’t even care that Caroline is still in the corner, holding the fucking napkin holder in the air.

“What’d you say?” Joel barks in Tommy’s face.

“Look at her fuckin’ stomach, dude!” Tommy throws the words in his face, pushing him back slightly and making a vague gesture in your direction, it causes your feet to move towards the brothers before you can think.

Joel backs off then, sneaking a tiny glance at you out of the corner of his eye, like he really is thinking about the marks he left on your waist. He had seen them this morning, ran his fingers over them too, and saw how the notches matched the curves of his fingers perfectly. But you kissed him, and told him it was okay. That it was more than okay. Maybe even whispered that you liked it between muffled groans. So when a glint of guilt flashes in his eyes it makes your heart break more than it already has.

“She said no,” Joel says, looking back at Tommy. A tense silence follows—like you’re not sure if Joel is going to continue or Tommy is going to bite back.

“Get back to your party,” Joel growls after a while. You bite your lip.

Tommy looks at Joel with unwavering eyes. His glance turns towards the window where he can see the bustling crowd—can almost hear the laughter. Then he looks down to his hand, outstretches it, undoes his gnarly fist, and when it curls back up again, you finally bite.

“Tommy!” you say, moving closer. But it’s too late. Joel’s figure knocks to the side and his hand instinctively grabs his face, his nose, his eye. Maybe the worst part about it all is that Joel doesn’t even look remotely surprised, or that he wants to fight back—he just stays there, a little hunched over when you yelp in shock and Tommy groans, shaking out a now bruised fist.

“Fuck,” you almost yell, your body doesn’t know what to do between bending down to see Joel’s face and looking at Tommy—at his face—because you don’t recognize him.

Joel almost huffs out a laugh, and to shut him up, to get him to bite his tongue, you speak again.

“Okay. We’re done here,” you say, pushing Joel towards the entrance of the house, towards your car.

And Caroline is there, pushing Tommy towards the couches and for the first time, you’re grateful for her.

The ride back to your house is silent after a short and quick bicker about who can drive. You think Joel might want to sit in the driver's seat so you can’t see the quickly forming bruises on the left side of his face but you make a decent argument, enough to settle him in the passengers—looking out the window.

You send Janet a quick text, asking if she can watch Sarah for a few hours. Brother emergency. Janet replies back and says the girls haven’t gotten out of the pool since you left. It makes you smile a bit, despite it all.

When you park in your driveway, you hop out quickly, Joel following closely behind. He waits there, right behind you, when you pull out your house keys, and waits when you unlock the deadbolt and waits when you push through the door.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, nodding towards the couches and dropping your keys in the bowl.

You disappear into the kitchen and brace your arms on the counter, your head hanging between your shoulders. You let out a deep, ragged breath and try to control your heartbeat.

“Fuck,” you mumble, shaking out your wrists, grabbing two advil from the bottle on your counter, a glass of water, and peas from freezer.

Joel’s sitting on the loveseat, looking down at his hands. You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either. He just takes the water and pills from your hands and swallows it silently. You extend the peas to him, he thinks about it for a while and when you shake them again, huffing, saying—just fucking take them. He finally obliges.

You get a good look at his cheek when he turns to set the water down on the table and you have to stop yourself from gasping.

“Joel,” you murmur, reaching for him, bending down, he stops you, grabs your wrist, then grabs your hand. But he’s gentle. Not like Tommy. Joel’s gentle.

“‘S fine,” he says, and winces when the peas touch his face. “‘M fine.”

You settle in between his legs, looking down at him. He’s got one hand on his face, holding the peas, and the other, wrapped around the back of your thigh. He doesn’t even want to look up at you. It breaks your heart.

“‘M sorry,” you say quietly, his hand on your thigh trails upward. He plays with the hem of your shirt and lifts it enough to take a peek at the purple that lies there.

He doesn’t say anything, just sits there, running a gentle, ghost-like touch across the bruises.

“He — saw it. I don’t…” you look down to your stomach. You can see the shape of his fingertips so clearly. It’s no wonder Tommy reacted how he did. “It was an accident.”

He doesn’t nod. Doesn’t shake his head. He tosses the peas onto the table and pushes the cotton of your shirt up further, to where he can see all of it—all the black and blue there.

“Are you mad?” you whisper, hesitantly, as he stares at his own hands, his own branding.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t be,” you say, begging, “Please.”

“He did that cause—,” you breathe out, taking his chin in your pointer finger and thumb and getting your first good look at his cheek, “—it’s-’s my fault, I should’ve—”

“C’mon. Don’t do that,” he says, cutting you off, nipping your apology in the bud, “I should be the one who’s sorry, this is — I hurt you.”

You shake your head.

“You know that’s not—you know that I—” you stifle a short chuckle.

“That you what?”

You let out a couple hot breaths, looking down at him, the purple around his eye slowly taking shape.

“That I liked it.”

Joel bends forward then, and you gasp. The dull scratch of his beard is the only thing keeping your eyes open. He trails his hot breath across your stomach, and leaves gentle kisses on your sides, on your bruises.

“Joel,” you mumble, and you hate how your voice sounds so breathy, maybe even desperate. You tangle your hands in his hair, grasping at the nape of his neck he pulls you down, closer, so you’re slotted in his lap, straddling him. Joel pulls back and looks at your face, brushes the fallen hair from your eyes.

“I meant what I said,” you start, he furrows his brow, “Still—mean it.”

From the look in his eyes he knows what you’re talking about. The words you slipped into his ear last night.

‘S you, Joel — it’s-’s always been you.

“But if this is—if Tommy—” you cut yourself off, correcting your words, “If I messed it up—”

“Sweetheart,” he says. Your heart pulls, you almost put your hand on his cheek, but you see the rising skin and settle for his shoulder. “‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Are you sure?”

He pulls you down further, so you’re flush against him. He studies your eyes and rubs at your waist, your hips. It sends a little fire down between your thighs.

“‘M here—‘M…I’m right here,” he mumbles, and shakes his head. Like he’s telling you no to any silent thoughts of doubt that might be floating around your head.

And then he pulls your head down to kiss you.

It’s needy, and hot and everything you want at this moment. He’s everywhere and you can feel his growing arousal between your legs. You both needed this—you think. After everything, after—fucking—Caroline and Janet Baker and Tommy Miller. You both needed each other so bad that when you grind down onto him he lets out a little desperate groan into your mouth that spurs you on.

Joel slips his hand under your shirt and finds the hardened peak there. He pinches it and rolls it between his fingers, it sends your hips forward and suddenly he’s sitting up, and shucking your shirt off.

He grabs your hips and moves you against him, your most vulnerable spots grinding against each other. Giving you both blown out eyes and puffy lips and panting breath.

“Sh–it,” you gasp when your shorts catch on your clit perfectly.

“Pretty,” he says, grasping at your tits, at anything he can find while you grind against his length. “fuckin’—pretty like this.”

You claw at his belt and before you know it, he’s lifting you up so you’re on your knees and he’s pulling his pants past his hips. You get the memo and take your shorts off, tossing them behind you. When you sink back down onto his lap, you can feel his cock slip between your wet lips down there.

“Fuck, Joel,” you say, gliding along his cock, soaking it. You can feel all of him now—grinding along his hardness—the girth of him fitting perfectly between your swollen lips.

“Angel,” Joel pants out, through sloppy kisses. You look at him. He’s got a desperate look on his face. Like he couldn’t wait just like you. Not even to get upstairs to your bedroom or to get all his clothes off. Like he’s been wanting this all day. Just like you.

You move up and reach down, feeling the wet mess you’ve both made down between your legs. You find his cock, hard and wanting, and position it at your entrance. The head sinks past your walls, enveloping it somewhere deeper and you both groan at the feeling.

You sink down on him slowly, you’re by no means physically ready to take him. But you can’t wait any longer. He kisses you, and down to your neck, making it easier to ease yourself down onto him, and when you finally reach the end, and you’re seated fully in his lap, you both gasp.

Your walls clench around him, eliciting a quiet groan from Joel somewhere near your neck. Your eyes roll back in your head, your forehead drops onto his shoulder. You both just sit there, waiting for the other to make a move.

It’s kind of like a game.

See how long you can both relish in each other’s warmth — the first person who moves loses.

Your walls tighten again and he lets out another groan, “Jesus,” he mumbles, nipping at your neck. You’re slowly adjusting to him, relaxing around him. It makes you shudder.

You realize he’s not really touching you. He’s got his hands on your thighs, but they’re just resting there. Not squeezing or gripping your hips like you know he so desperately wants. Maybe he’s scared, you think. From everything that’s happened today. From the consequences his touch barred.

But you didn’t care about the consequences. You liked his touch, needed his touch, just as much as he needed something to hold him back down to earth, anchor him to you—in you. And afterall, you just want him to feel good. Feel better.

“Touch me,” you gasp out, reaching down to his hands.

“Am touchin’ you,” he forces out, panting near your ear. His thumb absentmindedly pushes down on the skin of your thigh a fraction harder and then eases up, like he’s saying this is the best I can do.

“No, Joel,” you moan, rock your hips a little, moving first, moving frantically and suddenly, “touch me,” you say into his neck, reaching down to usher his hands to your hips, your waist, you.

Joel gets it then, the silent permission. The it’s okay, and grips you harder, but not as hard as you know he would like. It’s good enough for you because he moves your hips, rocking you up and down onto his length—having enough of the senseless grinding.

“Fuckin’ good—” Joel groans, your hands fly to his shoulders, his hair. “You feel good.”

Your legs grow tired, he can tell. You try your best, but you’re sweaty and tired and fucked out, and when he hits a spot deeper inside you that makes you moan out, louder than before, and you almost collapse onto him. He ruts into you a little. Meeting you halfway. Fucking you deeper—maybe even a bit faster.

Your legs ache and you feel a sheen of sweat wash over both of you. And Joel’s eye is fucked up, his cheek too. Tommy is sitting back at the house—or god knows where—with a possible broken hand, Janet baker is watching Sarah instead of you or Joel, Caroline is still back at the house, and everything is a fucking mess, but it’s so right. He feels so right. He’s — he’s right.

You’re close then, the coarse hair on him inching you toward your climax. He knows, he can feel it from the inside. You don’t even have to say it this time, your question for his permission. He can see it already braced on your lips but he shuts you up with a kiss, a sloppy one, where he sticks his tongue into your mouth and your walls tighten around him again.

“Yes,” he says with a moan into your mouth, “yes, yes—ah.”

“Fuck,” you say tightening around him, becoming breathless and boneless, but Joel holds you up. He always does.

He grips you tighter, like how you know he wanted to, and you relish in the feeling. His thrusts become desperate and you brace yourself on the back of the couch so he can rut up deeper, chasing after his own orgasm. You can’t really breathe. Not when he’s everywhere.

“Shit,” he says, rocking into you.

Joel cums hard, holding onto you, wrapping you up in his arms as he groans somewhere near your temple. You let it spread through you, the mess of it all. He keeps you locked in his arms, even when you think he might pull away.

He finally pulls you off him, when he says it becomes too much and you sit on his lap, playing with his curls. When you both settle from your panting you can’t help but ask.

“What are we gonna do?” you say quietly to him.

“I dunno,” he grabs your hand and gives it a quick kiss. The bruise on his face is turning an ugly shade of purple. And the peas have gone warm, creating a small puddle on the coffee table. And your phone keeps buzzing from the entryway.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, running a hand on your thigh.

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. kisses!

@going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @violinchick @rhoorl

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suzukiblu · 5 months

Note

Been looking through your assorted aus page and the link for "weird amnesia Timberkon"/"for the game young" is broken (as in, the tag does not appear to exist). It seems like you put a lot of time into that page so I figured you'd want to know (and also selfishly I am very interested in finding out what weird amnesia timberkon entails)

WHOOPS, my bad, messed that one up. Should be all fixed on the page now, though! Oddly I only seem to have one teeny lil' snippet up for that AU, to my surprise, could've sworn I'd posted more? Sooooo as thanks for catching that busted link for me, have a nice big chunk of the WIP behind this read-more, hah.

So Superboy is apparently an idiot. Then again, whatever, if Bernard were an indestructible telekinetic half-alien he would probably also not worry too much about looking subtle in his civvies or maintaining a secret identity, and also it's been a while since he's heard anything about the guy doing any active superheroing anyway so maybe Superboy is just assuming that the entire planet somehow forgot about his teen heartthrob superhero posters and all those close-up high-def publicity shots of his very public face and whatever? Oh, and also that one time that he literally fucking died to save the whole freaking world and the big ol' memorial statue. Statues? There might've been two, come to think.

So maybe an idiot.

A very hot idiot, though.

Well, whatever, Bernard figures, taking a sip of his boba tea and idly watching Superboy check out his boyfriend from the far side of the cafe like he's a sad puppy in a shop window who just wants a little love. Tim is looking at his phone and appears oblivious to Superboy's existence.

Bernard assumes Tim's doing that thing where he pretends to not be Robin, for obvious reasons. That thing remains adorable but is getting increasingly less convincing as time goes on. Like, he really doesn't know what Tim actually thinks he thinks he does in his downtime? There is no logical reason for a civilian to be either as ripped or as scarred as Tim Drake is, but part of being Tim Drake's boyfriend is pretending to be oblivious to those facts and also never questioning his flimsy excuses to run off at a moment's notice or disappear during a crisis or whatever else.

Bernard tries to figure out how to politely extricate himself from the situation for long enough for Tim to go check up on Superboy, because Superboy very clearly needs to be checked up on. Unfortunately he went to the bathroom like ten minutes before the guy walked in all sad-puppy so the obvious option is out, and Tim knows damn well he isn't gonna call his parents for anything less than a full-on emergency, and his friends it'd be weird not to just text, and . . . fuck, he doesn't know. He needs an angle here.

"I'll be right back, babe, just gotta duck into the bathroom real quick," Tim says, glancing up from his phone with an apologetic smile. Bernard relaxes slightly. Okay, that works, thank you, Bat-planning. Superboy can just follow Tim back to the bathroom and they can do whatever superhero sidebar they need to do back there.

But then Tim gets up, gives him a peck on the cheek, and heads back to the bathroom, and Superboy . . . doesn't follow him.

The hell?

Bernard represses a frown and takes another sip of his boba. Superboy continues not to follow Tim. He just sits there at his own little table with his completely untouched drink, looking like the saddest puppy that has ever sadded.

Bernard is mystified.

Are they having a fight, maybe? Is Tim ignoring Superboy because of that, not the secret ID stuff? That seems weird and not very Tim-like, fighting or not. But Superboy's in Gotham and came into the cafe after they did, so he can't be the one avoiding Tim. But also he didn't follow him to the bathroom when presented with the very unsubtle opportunity to do so, so . . . what the hell?

Weird.

Bernard takes yet another sip of boba and keeps watching Superboy. Superboy seems oblivious to said watching, but he guesses the guy is pretty famous and is a very public superhero and is always doing impressive shit and all that, so he's probably used to being watched. Oh, and also he's stupid, stupid hot.

Bernard cannot imagine being this used to attention, but apparently Superboy is. Bernard, of course, is not a punk idol superhero built like a porn star and a supermodel had a threeway with a bodybuilder. So like, that particular bit of mental dissonance probably makes sense and all. Life experiences are not universal, and all that.

Especially not when the life experience one is comparing oneself to started in a cloning tube.

Well, it's not like it's a burden for Bernard to have a free pass on checking out a hottie while he waits for Tim to come back from, presumably, waiting for Superboy to come and talk to him. Which Superboy is just . . . not doing, still. Inexplicably.

Still, sad puppy or not, Superboy's civvies look damn good on him, so that's something. Bernard's enjoying them, like as an aesthetic experience and everything. Superboy's wearing an unbuttoned red flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves over a very tight black tank top and even tighter light wash skinny jeans that are bafflingly intact, considering the fact that a dude with Kryptonian-level super-strength is currently vacuum-sealed into them.

Does tactile telekinesis work on skinny jeans? Is that a thing? Like, are Superboy's jeans currently indestructible?

That sounds amazing, actually.

Also, those buckled-up black leather boots he's wearing look like they could straight-up kill a dude, Kryptonian power-assist or not. And the shiny mirrored sunglasses and ridiculous multitude of even shinier gold piercings all suit the guy, somehow, and even without looking like too much.

Relatedly, Superboy's tank top is very, very tight.

Also relatedly, his nipples are apparently pierced.

And so is his belly button, it looks like.

Ngh.

Superboy's vacuum-sealed jeans are not quite tight enough for Bernard to figure out if he's got any below the spike-studded belt piercings, but his imagination is happy to fill in the blanks there. He's tempted to ask for Tim's theories on the existence of any such piercings, because yeah Superboy has super-hearing but Bernard has no shame and Tim logically should know, buuuuut he's still pretending not to know Tim is Robin so yeah, probably he shouldn't do that.

He could start a new conspiracy board for it, maybe. That'd be fun.

Superboy also has leather cuffs on his wrists and mismatched rings and necklaces and a really hot fade haircut that is noticeably windswept, and really, really looks like something that Bernard would like to see somebody dig their fingers into. Just–look, there's curls. Bernard cannot be blamed for curls.

And he's trying not to eye the cuff bracelets too much, but they provide very nice inspiration for a certain style of kinky thoughts. Not that Superboy couldn't snap basically any set of cuffs that wasn't made of kryptonite or promethium or like a magical kryptonite-promethium alloy or whatever without even trying, obviously, but like, somehow the thought of the guy having to restrain himself more than anything else makes the whole mental image hotter? Like, somehow?

Bernard pictures Superboy wearing a pair of cheap flimsy sex toy handcuffs and trying very, very hard to keep himself in them while someone else takes very careful inventory of all his piercings, wherever and whatever they all just so happen to be.

Jesus. Yeah, there's a thought.

Is it weird to consider flirting up your boyfriend's superhero bestie while he's badly pretending to be a civilian, Bernard wonders? Is that a thing?

Probably, but he still has no shame and is also in an open relationship, so whatever.

Hell, who knows, in retrospect maybe Tim actually arranged this setup specifically for Bernard to get an eyeful of his work crush. Like, Bernard always felt like Robin and Superboy had some significant UST going back in the day. Maybe Tim wants to finally do something about that, and the setup idea sounds like a very "Bat" approach to doing said something. And it'd explain why Superboy didn't follow Tim to the bathroom and maybe even why he's coming across kind of anxious right now, if he's trying to psych himself up to come over or something. Like, if he's nervous about making a good impression, though Bernard cannot imagine why he ever would be. Well, not like Supers are known for their undercover skills, so . . .

Either way, if that's the plan, Bernard is very fine with it, so he decides to go find out for himself and picks up his drink to head over and chat the guy up. Worst case scenario, he’s just gotten his hopes up a little, he figures. Best case, he’s putting Superboy out of his “oh god, how do I do undercover” misery.

"Mind if I sit?" he asks, and flashes Superboy a grin as he gestures at the empty seat at the other half of his table. Superboy looks weirdly startled, like he somehow expected to go unnoticed despite being a literal superhero who is also unspeakably hot and is also wearing very, very tight clothes that he's this close to busting out of. Like, at least half a dozen girls are actively checking him out right now, as is the dude behind the counter and the old guy on the sidewalk outside who’s busy badly pretending to be reading the outdoor menu board instead of checking out Superboy’s ass through the front window.

So yeah, Bernard really does not understand that apparent assumption.

Come to think, maybe Superboy has some self-esteem issues or something. Bernard admittedly might also have self-esteem issues if he were Superman's clone. Then again, if he were Superman's clone, he would look like Superman and also be very aware of how Superman himself looks, sooooo . . .

Seriously, "younger and sexier punk rock Superman" is not a vibe that Bernard can imagine going ignored all that often. Or ever.

“Uh–what?” Superboy says.

“I’ve been temporarily abandoned by my boyfriend and I’m easily bored,” Bernard clarifies politely, though obviously Superboy was staring at Tim long enough to have noticed said abandonment the moment it happened. “So, mind if I sit?”

“I–sure?” Superboy says, looking nervous. Bernard puts another tally in the “too bad at undercover work to follow the Bat-plan” column. Whatever, the guy’s trying his best, he’s not gonna judge him.

There's a pin on the inside of Superboy’s flannel, Bernard notices as the other shifts awkwardly in his seat, and is vaguely puzzled by the sight of it. Like, it's just a little thing and he doubts he'd have even seen it if he weren't in this close to the guy, but . . .

Just–yeah. Little pin. Just like a cheap little round button, like the kind that comes out of the dollar bin at all sorts of random stores. And it's hidden inside Superboy's flannel, mostly, but it's definitely got the S-shield on it.

Bernard is perplexed. Even in Gotham, it's not like it's weird to see people wearing Superman merch. So like, why is Superboy hiding that?

“Cool,” he says as he files that away as a little oddity, and takes the empty seat. Superboy continues to look nervous. Bernard continues to work on figuring out if his weird Bat-boyfriend who he’s not supposed to know is a Bat set him up on a blind date with his superhero bestie. The nervousness supports the theory, anyway.

Man, this dude really is even prettier up close. How was he Tim’s bisexual awakening with this guy around and in close quarters with him? Like, he’s flattered, don’t get him wrong, but also maybe Tim has some vision problems and he should get that checked out before it inconveniences his nightlife.

"Sooooo like . . . what do I call you?" Bernard asks, peering across the table at him curiously. "Because the obvious option seems like a bad idea, obviously.”

"‘The obvious option’?" Superboy stops looking nervous long enough to look confused instead.

"Yeah?" Bernard says, cocking his head. Superboy cannot possibly think he’s being subtle here, so . . . "I mean, I assume you don't go by 'Superboy' when you're dressed like that. Like, that's the whole point of being dressed like that, right?"

Superboy stares blankly at him. Bernard cocks his head the other way, now officially the confused one.

"What?" Superboy says.

"Okay, sorry, this is the thing where you-know-who still insists on pretending he's not Robin, isn't it," Bernard realizes, which he really should've realized would be a thing from the start. He supposes that makes sense even with Superboy’s total lack of subtlety, though, superheroes probably do have to really commit to that thing. Especially ones who work for Batman and Superman. Or . . . just around Superman, maybe? Bernard is not fully clear on that particular superhero hierarchy. "My bad. So, uh, what do I call you, because there is obviously no obvious option. Obviously.”

"You . . . recognize me?" Superboy croaks.

"Uh," Bernard says, brow furrowing in bemusement at the very weird expression the guy's currently wearing. "Yes? No offense, you're kind of recognizable. Like, do you even have a secret identity? I mean, you're a clone, right, and I know you were just doing the full-time hero thing in at least Hawaii, so I actually have no idea if you ever bothered making one up or not?”

"You recognize me," Superboy chokes, just staring at him, and then bursts into tears.

. . . well, that can't be good.

#timberkon #timbern #bernard dowd #kon el #conner kent #tim drake #superboy #dc robin #wip: weird amnesia timberkon #long post #anonymous #rinfic

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phantomspiderr · 1 year

Text

Rest

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!reader

Word Count: 750+

Summary: a sleepy cuddle with Steven

Warnings/Tags: just some cuddling fluff that I think about all the time, not really any description of reader, reader also doesn't talk, trying to keep it as neutral as possible, I don't think there's anything else but let me know if I've missed something

a/n: two posts in one week omg, Happy Holidays bbys😘

･☆: *.☽ .* :☆

There is no sound throughout the flat, only occasionally is the silence broken by pages turning or scribbling of notes. Another evening of research had turned into being up until the early hours of the morning. Steven was hunched over his desk, hyper-focused on researching for a new exhibition that had been announced at his work. Since he’d finally settled back at home—after everything that happened with Marc, Egypt, Khonshu, all of those things that had been addressed—he’d been dying to get back to the museum. Unfortunately, Donna still worked there and everyone still remembered he’d trashed a perfectly good bathroom for no particular reason but luckily London had many, many museums. Steven felt like his luck had finally begun to change when he came across a part-time tour guide position at another fancy museum. Then the manager had loved his enthusiasm and knowledge so much that they’d offered him the job there and then. Now he's been working there for a few months but he was still set on making a good impression, that and he just found learning all of the knowledge therapeutic. There was a deep-seated comfort for Steven in reading over history books, especially on days like today when the streets of London are covered in snow and the flat is so cosy. He is so lost in his reading that he jumps when the floorboards creak, his head whipping around to your shadowy figure. Steven’s entire body softens, his fight or flight instincts calming down when he sees that you’re wrapped up in a blanket, standing a few feet away sleepily looking at him.

“Hi, little star. What’re you doing up?” Steven reaches a hand out to you, while his other removes his glasses and places them down on the desk. You quietly walked toward him, rubbing at your eyes with your blanketed hand and he can’t stop a smile from forming. As soon as you’re close enough Steven wraps his arm around you, looking up at you fondly, “you okay?” You only nod to the question, the memory of sleep still evident in your brain and Steven knows it’s late, so late, and that he should just allow you to drag him back to bed with him but he’s almost done with this chapter. Then you let out the quietest little whine and he almost gives up there and then, “I just have a few more pages love and then I promise I’ll come to bed. I swear.” Of course, you just pout and whine a little more and again he considers just leaving the rest for tomorrow but he’s so close to being done. He just looks between you and the desk a couple times before the idea pops into his head, “come sit with me till I’m done.” You don’t even take a moment to think about it, immediately climbing into Steven’s lap. With his help, you’re straddled in his lap facing him and he’s cupping your face in his hands, thumbs rubbing the tops of your cheeks while he takes a moment just to admire you. He gives your cheek the gentlest kiss as he allows you to make yourself more comfortable, your arms along with the blanket wrapping around his shoulders and your head resting to the side, tucked against your own shoulder and his face. Steven allows himself a minute to just hold you like this, he hadn’t even realised he was a little cold until your warmth was wrapped around him. He appreciates the comfort before he starts to realise how tired he actually is and now he has to fight his drooping eyes as he picks his book up again.

In no time you've dropped back into a slumber cosied up against Steven and he's struggling now. The urge to finish the chapter slipping from him, maybe he's learned enough for one night or maybe he can just rest his eyes for a moment and he'll find the energy to finish. He decides he'll just rest for a minute and he'll be fine. So, he ever so gently nuzzles his head into your neck, the book he'd been so absorbed with abandoned on the desk in favour of wrapping his arms around your body. Then within minutes he completely succumbs to sleep, research forgotten, now all he thinks of is you. Of how warm you are and that you smell so good and that all he wants at this moment is to stay like this forever. To always be this close and comfortable.

#moon knight fluff #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fic #steven grant fluff #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant #steven grant x gender neutral reader #steven grant x gn!reader #steven grant x y/n #moonknight #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fanfic

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creedslove · 1 year

Text

BETRAYED - PART FIVE

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro invites you to be his plus one for the night but his attention is caught by another woman and leaves you with a broken heart

Warnings: angst, age gap, established friendship, unrequited love/one sided feelings, fluff, glimpse of Pedro being a great (silly) dad, and more angst of course

A/N: I really don't know what you guys will think of this part. It is longer than the others and for those who don't want Pedro to be forgiven, you can consider this the ideal end, though this is NOT the last chapter. I still have some ideas for this story but their development will go according to what you guys want, especially because due to all the feedback I've received over the last week (yes today marks one week I posted the first chapter) things are pretty divided between who wants a happy ending and who wants a sad one, lol!

A/N Part 2: I still can't manually tag people on the works because I use the app and it won't let me do it, that's why I don't have a tag list at all!

3.2k words

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Your heart clenched the moment you heard Kate's words. Pedro was there. After months pretending not to know each other, after not seeing him nor listening to his voice, months after the horrible argument you two had, where you both said horrible things to each other, words that hurt you two deeply, but also needed to be said. So you two could break free from what was holding you back. You and your mindless passion for Pedro, and him and his incapability of letting you go.

You realized you went silent for several seconds and Kate was staring at you with a worried look on her face, so you gave her a nervous smile and nodded "there's no problem, really. We are not making a scene or anything, I mean, we didn't have that much of a fight, it wasn't that serious"

"Yes, it was, Y/N" Kate said in a low voice "you completely fell out with each other, you have never been apart from long and honestly, he seems the saddest I've ever seen, and you don't seem like you're in a picnic either" she placed her hand on your shoulder reassuringly and looked down, excusing herself as she needed to attend the other guests.

You didn't like to be read like that, yes, you missed Pedro, in many ways you were still broken hearted at everything that went on, it's very hard to just let go of a person you were so invested in for years. It leaves an empty spot in your chest, even when you get over whatever happened, your mind always comes back to a bunch of might-have-beens. And though you and Pedro hadn't been away for that long, that's exactly how it felt. You walked out the kitchen and realized you were getting anxious to see him. He was there, it was a stated fact. It wasn't like when you went to the gym and very often looked over your shoulders, in hopes he wouldn't show up at the same time you kind of hoped he would show up. Internally battling with the relief of not running into him and also the disappointment of not seeing him. Once again, you had to remind yourself to act rationally, you didn't want to be shaken to the core when you saw him, and you definitely wouldn't make a scene at a princess' party.

When you reached the living room, he was the first one you spotted and for a few seconds he was the only thing you could see. There he was, Pedro, your dulce Pedrito like you used to call him and make a soft reddish color spread through his cheeks. He looked the same as always, the same as always made your heart race and you hated that. Your heart beat faster, your palms suddenly got a little sweaty and you were sure you'd stutter if someone asked you any question. You cursed yourself under your breath, months of self care and you still acted like a high school girl around him. The sadness Kate had seen your ass, you mentally rolled your eyes as you saw how he was still the life of the party, how he laughed and made everybody laugh. He wasn't sad, and why should he? Maybe you did hurt him in your argument, in fact you did hurt him as he left with tears in his eyes, but he probably got over you, he had done it so many times before, times where you still were friends and you loved and cared for him, so now what was stopping him from just forgetting about you?

Pedro finally eyed you, he knew you were coming and he tried his best to look good for you, he had a nice outfit on, his hair was messy like you always said you loved and God, he felt like time had stopped when he saw you walk into the living room. Hermosa, princesa, linda, mariposa, all of that crossed his mind once he saw you. He hadn't seen you in what it felt like forever, and now you were there, standing a few feet away from him. His desire was to rush to you, ignoring everyone else there, and wrapping his arms around your waist. If he could, he would let out all those Spanish words you loved roll out of his tongue before he could touch your skin and make you his. He chuckled to himself just to picture what you would say if you knew his heart raced when he saw you, how he wanted to take you into his arms like you had dreamed about it for so long. Life sometimes is truly a joke.

He didn't understand how you managed to become more beautiful since the last time you saw each other but you did it, and he couldn't take his eyes off you. He had no idea if you'd even want to talk to him, give him some of your time, but he was going to try.

Before you could greet everyone who was sitting closer than him, Flora and her big brother came running to you. If someone thought Flora was sweet, they hadn't met her brother yet. Wyatt was a five year old who seemed to be obsessed with you. Out of all his mommy's friends you were definitely his favorite. He was sweet to you like he was with no one else, and the fact he still had some trouble pronouncing his 'R' made him even cuter to you.

He immediately jumped onto your lap, snuggling you as tight as he could, he was overly excited at the sweets he'd eaten and the fact some people who brought his little sister presents also brought him presents!

Pedro's heart dropped to his stomach the moment he saw you surrounded by Flora and Wyatt. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to watch that, but he couldn't look away either. It all brought him back to the dreams he constantly had about you, the dreams where he always got to a happy, crowded home, where you were his and only his, in all the ways you dreamed of for long and now he longed for it as well and you two had built a beautiful family. He was always happy in these dreams, only to feel empty when he woke up.

One of the things he always loved about you and that one he made pretty clear throughout your entire friendship, was how good with kids you were. Of course Pedro had earned the cool uncle status, but he just admired how natural you were, how kids simply wanted you to be around them and how happy you got with that. It quickly drove him back to the night of your argument, and how you threw it on his face he was nearly 50 without a family. Yes, he knew you were right, but it still hurt him anyway. When he was younger, he wasn't sure if he was going for the traditional stuff but he assumed good old marriage and kids would happen to him, after all it happened to everyone. But as the years went by, he just focused on his career and he was pretty happy that way, apart from all the loneliness he felt, loneliness that was soothed by your company during the day and some other female company at night, sometimes even more than one at the same time. Until those stupid dreams began, every single night he would have a family with you and love every single part of it just to be taken back to reality where he was alone and all he got was his career.

"Did you really think I'd forget about you?" You whispered to Wyatt as you very discreetly handed him a small basket with his favorite chocolate. You didn't have enough for all the kids, so you hoped he wouldn't make a big fuss about it, but the moment he squealed in happiness and hugged you, you felt so lucky to be there. You quickly helped him open his present and watched as he ate one piece after the other. Kate would probably kill you the next day, but you didn't care at all, seeing his true happiness.

"Pedwo, come play please!!" He asked the man, waving his hand at him and inviting him to the empty seat next to you. You saw when he smiled at Wyatt and moved closer to you. His cologne was intoxicating and for a moment all you wanted to do was to rest your head on his shoulder and have his arm around your body.

"These are my favorite too, you gotta share" he frowned playfully at Wyatt and looked at you

"Hey Y/N" he said shyly and looked down clearing his throat before looking into her eyes again "you look very beautiful, muy hermosa como siempre" he said and saw the familiar blush spreading through your cheeks adding a cute look to your face. You still reacted the same, maybe you were still his muñequita?

"Hi Pedro" you said softly and smiled politely at him.

"Come on Pedwo do the voice!!! Do it again, fow Y/N to see!!" Wyatt begged excitedly and pointed at his brand new Grogu doll. Once again you felt the urge to roll your eyes mentally, of course that was Pedro's doing and it was so predictable. Cute, but predictable. The little boy however, was mesmerized as once more Pedro sat up and made his Mandalorian voice. You didn't know exactly how it was different from his regular voice, but it was and you couldn't explain. He said whatever Wyatt liked to hear and gently tapped the doll's head, making Grogu cooed and blink his eyes, lifting his little arm gently which caused Wyatt to squeal in happiness again.

You both felt pretty good at that, no matter what happened between you two, you were really good at handling kids together and your chest ached to wonder if the same would apply if you ever had children together.

•••

After singing Happy Birthday and serving the cake, Rob, Kate's husband, asked his kids to go to the backyard. Pedro grinned at the interaction and placed his plate down, taking your hand in his and pulling you "come on Y/N, you'll want to see this" he said happily and you had no other reaction than follow him. The kids were so excited when their daddy asked them to close their little eyes. They peeked all the time, not being able to hold back how eager they wanted to see the surprise. Pedro looked at you and smiled sweetly "I don't mean to brag, but it was my idea, so you're not the only one who is great with kids, you know" he winked at her.

You swallowed and looked down at your hands, fingers entwined and how softly Pedro caressed your hand with his thumb. You immediately let go of his hand and blushed, which wasn't unnoticed by him, who sighed and stared into your eyes "I know you're still hurt about everything that went on and we need to talk, I owe you an apology for what happened and-"

Pedro was cut off by the kids' screams of happiness and pure excitement when their daddy revealed their mysterious present: a bunny. A real life bunny, you stared into Pedro eyes and chuckled "that was your idea, right?" You asked and couldn't help but smile a little "I bet Kate is thrilled" you both burst out laughing and for a moment everything was alright between the two of you again.

He only laughed softly but gently took your hand in his once more, walking towards some trees, away from the fuss the kids were making and once you were both hidden enough from anyone else who might bother you, he finally gathered the courage to speak.

"I screw everything up with you, Y/N. I know I did, in fact I knew it from the moment it happened but I was too proud and stubborn to admit it" he sighed "and then it all got worse and worse until that horrible episode at your place. I deeply regret everything that went on" Pedro looked down, and then back at you again, being puzzled by how indecipherable your expression was. You watched him apologize without really apologizing, you just hated how he asked for your forgiveness without acknowledging anything at all.

"The reason why I didn't want to talk to you anymore was because I'm tired of being your doormat, Pedro. You know how much I love you" you bit your lips "how much I loved you" you corrected yourself and continued "but you only took advantage of it, and you know it. You know how many times you've hurt me, how many times you flirted with me, you kissed me almost on the lips, you sweet talked to me, the times you had your hands on my body not in an erotic way but definitely more intimate than a friend should ever do, you know how confused it left me, and you kept doing it"

Pedro knew it was all true, but he had decided to ask for your forgiveness and to be honest, he looked around embarrassed and nodded

"I-I know that, Y/N. I know I was a real shitty friend, always teasing you, playing with your feelings… I am really ashamed of it and if I could turn back in time, I'd never act that way. I had only one glimpse of what you must've felt all this time… when I saw you with that guy from the gym and it felt like my heart had shattered into a million pieces"

You had to admit you were not expecting that, at first you thought it would be just some more of his usual bullshit, but it seemed Pedro really meant what he was telling you.

"And I know the last straw was that night at the gala. It should've been about us, after all, you were my plus one because I wanted to have you there, and I loved every minute we spent together, you looked gorgeous, muy hermosa mi cariño, but then I was just terrible to you. I don't know why I left with that woman, I mean, I don't know why I just gave in to that impulse and I know I tried brushing off as if you were exaggerating but these past months I was finally able to be true to myself and admit you were right. I was a dick, I not only humiliated you and broke your heart but also put you at risk by letting you go home on your way"

His voice had a sad tone and he didn't look away for a split second, showing he meant all that.

You began tearing up, as those were the words you waited months to hear. You wanted him to apologize, to admit what he'd done and now it had finally happened, you couldn't help but feel sad as it came too late.

"Pedro, I-"

"Please, Y/N, let me finish" he asked and took another breath "that day at your house was completely unacceptable, I know it, and we both hurt each other, I snapped because I saw you with another man and told you to leave me alone, and I didn't understand why I had such a childish and reckless attitude, until I realized I didn't know how to act on my feelings for you, which takes me to the very painful words you told me, which unfortunately, were also true. I left that night hating myself, I didn't know what to do or what to say, so I looked for help, I went back to therapy and I was able to see all the things I was doing wrong"

You saw when he took a step closer and you could smell his cologne, you had no idea what he was going to do, but your heart pounded into your chest as his big hands cupped your cheeks so gently, stroking them and staring into your eyes "and after all that self-analysis I came to the conclusion that I love you" he bit his lips and a light blush spread through your cheeks "I mean, I already did, as a friend, even if I was a dick, I truly loved and cared about you, but it changed, Y/N, it got more intense, you're the only thing that crosses my mind the whole day, the only one I want and crave, all I can think of is your body against mine, your beautiful voice singing while you make breakfast, the way you light up a room when you step inside, how the kids love you because they see how incredible you are" Pedro took another deep breath "I'm in love with you, Y/N" he finally admitted out loud and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He leaned in and touched your lips with his very softly at first, ghosting over them, appreciating how perfect they felt against each other. One of his hands went for your waist, wrapping his arm around it and gripping your body in a desperate need. He was so close you could feel his strong chest against your soft breasts, so pressed up against his body it was really hard to remind yourself that wasn't right. The moment you felt the man deepening the kiss, you couldn't hold back a soft moan. You decided to enjoy that moment, something you'd craved for so long, it almost felt like your heart was bursting out of your chest. Your hands gripped his hair, pulling it softly as you kissed him back as eager as he kissed you. You felt like you could be trapped in that moment forever with him, it felt right, even if it was wrong.

When Pedro broke the kiss looking for some air, you still gave him a last peck on the lips, gently stroking his cheek and taking a step back.

"Wow" you whispered and smiled shyly "I've dreamed about that moment for so long. God knows how much I daydreamed that one day this exact scene would happen, now it did, it feels unreal" you looked at him and took his hand, gently squeezing it "and that's why it breaks my heart to see it happened too late. I'm sorry Pedro, but we can't do this. I'm really sorry that I don't believe you, I don't think you love me, I think you love the fact I was in love with you and that stroke your ego like nothing else, I was young, devoted, I would do anything for you and would take anything you had to offer, but we can't do this anymore. I can't do this to myself, I love myself more than I love you now, and I won't let anyone get in the way of that, not even you" she said and let go of his hand "I'll always love you and cherish you Pedro, but it's time to say goodbye"

_____

A/N: any feedbacks, let me know! Also, you guys have just met Wyatt! He is pretty much my OC and for the years I wrote for/roleplayed Victor Creed/Liev Schreiber he was always my character's son, and I developed an emotional connection with him even if he is not real, so I thought to myself, why not show the world what a ray of sunshine my fictional son is, right?

And yes, the bunny thing I got from Narcos because I thought Pablo Escobar had no right to be that cute while gifting his daughter a bunny, the way she got happy when he gave her su conejito just made me go all aww 🥰

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal headcanons #pedro pascal headcanon #male actors #hot actors #betrayed #betrayed series

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opluffys · 1 year

Text

Personal-

posted first to my archive- you can read ‘mentor mentee’ for more context if you’d like, but you can also read this blind! pls let me know if there are any errors and i hope you enjoy!

tags- rough sex, size difference, size kink, angst, toxic relationship, internal conflict, creampie, vaginal sex, mating press, fem reader.

4k words.

-Ghost x Reader-

-nsfw/smut-

Forcing yourself to drag your stare from the monotonous and drab documents onto him, standing there in all of his terrifying glory. Mountainous and big, all of him, from his behaviour to his looks. You were tired of it, of him. Lies.

You wondered what brought him in this time. Part of you had already known, though.

"Did you fuck him again?"

You scoffed, clicking your pen and setting it down gently, the dark ink setting to dry over the tinted pages. You had wanted to tell him a false truth, but is it really false? A growing bit of you had wanted to scurry back to Price, sticking to his side just as you'd done for Ghost.

"Why does that matter?" You began to kick your shoes off, knowing what would happen in the next few moments. Bent over the desk and fucked until broken sounds left you, like always.

Ghost stilled, displeased with your response. He'd not yet closed the distance between you two, not yet sealing your fate for the night. To be sore and stuffed full of him, is what you'd anticipated, thighs squeezing together as you started to reminisce.

What good were you though, if you were just made to say yes? To always listen and mindlessly obey whatever Ghost would say and ask of you. You attempted to will away whatever lecherous thoughts that compelled you, standing from your office chair.

"There's always something I've wanted to ask you. Something I've been too afraid to even think of." You laughed, a saddened and dry sound. You forced yourself to continue on with your complex dialogue.

"Can you tell me Ghost? What you and I are to one another?" Your question was desperate, tone shaky and eyes glossy. You'd constructed a perfect answer within your muddied mind, hoping that he'd say what you'd wanted to hear, overcome with something to falsify that answer.

You waited for his reply, your stare stuck on his dark one. You loathed looking into his eyes, because they told you everything you'd wanted to know. You knew he had an answer, one so intricate and lengthy, he himself was unaware- the thing that had been so utterly amusing though, was that you were equally as unknowing, too.

And like a true spirit, he'd left as silently as he'd appeared.

•

A muted moan left your lips, bent and folded in an impossible, nearly, position, taking Ghost into your pussy. His large and gloved hands were on the backs of your knees, pushing and folding your legs to compress your entire being. The large and ill-fitting shirt hung off of your body as he pushed into your heat, oddly gently, eye contact starting to make you nervous and nauseous.

He continued to feed his large cock into you, leaving just a bit of him to keep you stretched open before shoving himself back in. You cried out to him, your hands tangled into the cheap sheets of his bed, and- his bed? Your eyes popped open, scanning your surroundings, and oh, how the hell did you end up here? In his supposed safe haven, his fucking home.

How had the stars aligned for the two of you to get a break at the same exact time? Not so much as a break, more like a medically related one for Ghost, and you'd been forced to go watch over him, since he was notorious for not trusting other hospitals. The man barely trusted anyway, this was not at all surprising. This all made sense, but how you'd gotten into this position hadn't.

A soft squeeze at your plush flesh had your eyes flickering back to his, "Look at me while I fuck you."

Your breath hitched, legs opting to close, being stopped by him. He pulled out again, slow, slower than he's ever gone with you before. You were used to a rabid and animalistic pace, one that would shake you back and forth from his thrusts alone. But this? Leisure and slow, powerful and strong thrusts of his cock inside your walls, deep eye contact, those honey eyes with light lashes staring down at you. Ever so slightly narrowing when you'd squeezed him in such a way, tight and snug around his thick girth.

You, for once, stared right back at him. Through your tears at your waterline threatening to flow, through thickened lashes, you stared at him, just as he'd wanted you to. Just his tip was inside of you now, and he waded himself back in, watching and appraising your reaction. Every twitch of your body, how your legs tried to close, how your pussy spasmed around his cock and tried force him out- all of it.

Ghost struggled to get all of him inside of you, so used to just having you sit atop him and laze back, often in your own seat. He'd watch, somewhat amused, as you rode him, so fervent, hands behind your back while you would moan and whisper whatever it was you'd said. He'd, when feeling generous, roll his hips up into you to meet you halfway, watching as your eyes opened in shock when you felt him just a little deeper.

So, at a new and all too personal angle, he continued to work his dick into you, hearing your small 'it's too much,' or 'you're so big' spur him on with every minuscule movement from him. Ghost wasn't one to try new things, opting instead for something familiar. Like maybe having your face buried into the sterile cot as he fucked you from the back, fast and unforgiving speed always having you moan out to him in pure ecstasy. But, he was open for new things at times. Sharing you with Price (once was enough for him), having you set the pace, trying new positions.

He briefly questioned if you'd enjoyed the change, too.

Cutting through the silence, he spoke, "You like getting fucked like this? Feelin' me right- fuck, right here?" His large hand fanned out over your abdomen, pushing down and able to feel himself inside. Your hand scrambled over his, cold leather meeting you. The sensation of the provided pressure too much, per usual.

"God, don't, don't do that again." A whine left you, your body betraying you as you pushed his hand down, a timid ask, again, please.

He listened, pushing that spot over your stomach down, the cold material of his gloves making it feel a little less personal- because to be completely true to yourself, you had to admit how badly you'd wanted to touch him. To feel his hands, without the leather barrier, to hold them and wonder how they would feel in your smaller ones. Your hand enclosed over his, raising it a bit, fingers attempting to lift his glove off. You wanted it to feel personal. You were tired of it not being such.

But you were also so fucking scared of it becoming just that, too personal. As every aspect of your day to day life had some of Ghost in it, your conscious and mind having the most of him within, constant thoughts plaguing your mind. These thoughts, for once, hadn't deterred you, continuing to ease the leather glove off of Ghost's hand.

He didn't seem to take note of what you'd been doing, lost in your tight insides, his eyes fluttering closed at the pleasure you'd provided him. Maybe that's why he'd chosen you, because you were the only one who could take him like this, take him any fucking way he'd chosen. You had been the only one able to give him a similar sensation of pure euphoria, just as he'd given you.

"Ghost, I-" A sharp inhale from you as your cunt continued to struggle with his size, "I want to touch you." So sudden, your voice was airy and light, almost as if you'd pass out at any given moment. And from how lightheaded you'd felt at both your request and at the way Ghost had slowly been fucking into you, it didn't seem too far off from actually happening.

Your brain hadn't even had the time to concoct whatever negative scenarios, as he spoke up, "Why now."

Not a question, a statement. He's right- why now? You'd always despised loved the idea of touching him, and you'd so desperately wanted to put that idea into fruition, even though the rightful side of you, the more logical one, had attempted to warn you that it wasn't a good idea. If you'd felt him, then perhaps you'd grow even more addicted than you already were.

You'd take your chances, though.

"I don't know why, just, oh, fuck," You forgot what the hell you were even talking about, feeling his cock just about bottom out inside of you. "Please."

He stopped, hovering over you, a single hand keeping your leg spread while the other was entangled with yours. The ambient and low lighting framing him with an odd glow, one that had you wanting to cower in fear.

Lightly, so much so that you almost hadn't noticed, he squeezed your hand back, an answer to you, fine, yeah okay. It was unsure, just as his demeanour normally was around you. You pushed the glove off, the item falling to the floor with a barely audible sound. You, for a moment, held his hand. Not too long, because then you knew that he'd retract it and slip that glove back on, that sense of protection back on, his sense.

His hand was rough and calloused, but so warm. Heavy in your hand and against your touch, you laced your fingers with his before squeezing, looking up at him, his figure blurry through tinted lenses.

"Go faster, please." A shy appeal, something which your body couldn't even handle, your insides unable to withstand the spare inches that Ghost had yet to fuck into you.

"You can handle it, can't you?" He rolled his hips upwards, his cock dragging against your walls in a way that had you feeling dizzy.

Words had failed you, so you nodded, anchoring yourself to him just by holding his big hand. Your eyes etching shut, before widely opening from a particularly harsh and deep thrust by Ghost.

"Keep your eyes on me."

You attempted at a nod before throwing your head back and gasping, air refusing to fill your lungs as Ghost had nearly pushed the entirety of his dick in. He was filling you to the fucking brim, stuffing you full of him, his flushed tip threatening to bash into your womb again and again.

You held the position that he'd folded you into, thighs beginning to burn at the abnormal angle. You then remembered, he'd crowded into your space while you bandaged his abdomen is what began this all. You don't even remember what he'd said to you, what he'd done, for you to end up beneath him- a sight that you'd witness on the regular. He's never had you so close to him, his face merely inches away from yours. His deep and dark stare never leaving yours, spare for the few times he'd straighten his posture and sound his own moans. Gravelly and low, shutting his eyes while his blonde lashes fell over his cheeks in bliss.

You briefly looked down towards your hand, staring at the larger one that had been loosely holding yours. You'd never even seen his hands before, always clad with leather and never showing his actual flesh. It was scarred, and big- just like the rest of him, full of protruding veins and tendons. The size of his lone hand could fit both of yours within it easily, making your face have a warm heat fan across. You began to think about how his hands would pin yours to the wall, the mattress, whatever, while pounding into you. Feeling conflicted between lust and love, no, this isn't love, it never will be.

Yet, you clutched onto him like it was.

You wanted to commit this sight, this entire night, to memory, because you knew that the next morning you'd criticise yourself for it. Endless questioning of how you'd allowed him to get so close to you, to hold you like a lover and fuck into you like one, slowly, oddly carefully for him too- it never made any sense. He'd either be too cold, which is the Ghost you'd known, or he'd slightly warm up, handling you with care instead of typical rag-doll fashion.

You'd handle your emotions in the morning.

You squeezed his hand, tightly, drawing his attention back to you. "Faster," You plead, feeling his hips slowly push against you, the soft material of his gray sweatpants soft against your exposed skin.

"You know to ask nicely, love."

You hated adored when he'd call you pet names, they just made you feel more attached. Nevertheless, you obeyed, "Please, please go faster, Ghost."

He hummed lowly, pleased at your obedience. His leisure speed hastened, his forehead pressing against yours as your eyes flitted closed, little whimpers and moans leaving your agape lips.

"Fuck, so good, you're so good." He grunted, bottoming out inside of you at last, hearing you cry out in slight soreness. His nose was brushing against yours, his eyes on you, brow furrowed. He's so fucking pretty, and you hadn't even known what he'd looked like.

"You're so deep," Your words slurred, feeling his cock rub up against your slick walls deliciously.

"Yeah? You like it, don't you?" He groaned, sounding like a deep growl rumbling in his clothed chest. His speed was dizzying now, slamming into you with fervour.

You nodded, feeling his hand pin yours on the mattress, the soft and laced hold now turning into something filthy, a means to hold you down.

"Use your words, don't go dumb on me just yet." He teased, returning to the slow and downright tortuous pace he'd once been at.

"Yes, I like it, I love it," You stopped yourself from saying something that you'd soon regret, those three words remaining unspoken.

"I know you do." A long and drawn out moan left him, his hand grasping your wrist as he continued to ram into you.

A sudden wave of uncomforted emotion consumed you, thoughts of how close he'd been making you feel queasy. You wanted to get him off, while simultaneously wanting to pull him impossibly closer. You didn't know when he'd feel like this again, so you felt like you were taking this entire situation for granted- but those conflicting thoughts were eating at your very sanity, making his close vicinity unbearable.

Looks like Ghost shared your sentiment, backing away from you and removing his hand from yours. Instead, he looked down towards you as his cock continued to drive in and out of your wet cunt. You hated how he had known how to fuck you just right, making sparks fly within your synapses, always coaxing multiple orgasms from you, he had always known what to do with you.

His ungloved hand reached up to the bottom of his balaclava, and you clearly froze up. You had to be hallucinating, because if just touching him would make you feel so utterly confused, you couldn't even begin to fathom how seeing him would fare.

That cloud of constant anonymity surrounding Ghost made things easier between the two of you. While you had shown and intimated at your true feelings, albeit rare, you have done it before. Typically when seating yourself on his cock wasn't enough, and you had actually wanted to feel something between you two. You couldn't lose that, because then you knew that you'd fall for him, it's already happened, hasn't it?

He pulled the fabric up, acting as a striptease while shallowly thrusting into your heat. He stopped just shy of showing the bridge of his nose, and you turned away before you'd even gotten a glimpse of him. You didn't care how badly you'd wanted to see him, see Simon and not Ghost. You didn't care at all, staring at the bland and blank white walls as you were moved up and down due to his hips colliding against yours.

It was sudden, his bare hand on your face, nearly smooshing your cheeks together, roughly bringing your stare back to him.

"Not a very good listener, are you? Look at me."

Your stare never met his, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes, please, don't make me see you. I don't want to fall in l-

A harsh thrust forced you to meet his gaze, and you felt an odd sense of relief rush through your system as his entire face wasn't exposed. Just the bottom half, which you have seen a few times, in a more clinical setting, of course. He's never shown you himself whilst balls-deep inside of you.

Well, until now, anyway.

"Good." A quick praise that had you melting against his welcomed touch. You were unaccustomed to seeing his lips form the very words he'd said, yet you could watch it all day. He removed his hand from your face, instead tugging at his loose shirt, bringing it to catch on his teeth.

Fuck, that shouldn't be that hot.

His eyes were on your trembling figure, at times glancing down to watch his thick cock disappear inside your greedy pussy. Gripping him in a way that you thought he wouldn't pound into you again, foolishly wrong as his cock returned within your cunt with a low groan. The gauze covering his abdomen following every light twitch from his stomach having you watch with embarrassing intent.

Your thighs burned as they were spread to their limit, one of your hands grabbing at the sheets as your very life depended on it. The the other was clutching tightly at his inked arm, nails biting into the decorated skin, he grunted as your nails raked over his arm, his thrusts halting as he felt his own orgasm creep up on him.

Normally, he would speak during this period, tell you how perfect you were for him. But, he kept quiet, due to the fabric of his shirt in his mouth, or maybe he just wasn't in the mood. You didn't know, you didn't care, you were lost in the way his cock would push right up against that spot that had your vision blacking out. Your own hips lowering to meet his in mutual thrusts, eyes rolling back in pure pleasure and liquid ecstasy shooting through your own spine, every disc lighting up.

Ghost's hot and heavy dick continued to punch into your drooling cunt in such a way that nearly had you bawling. You felt your toes begin to curl as all of the signs were leading up to your own orgasm, something of which you'd been chasing, yet delaying, for you knew that those rose-tinted glasses would shatter.

Again- you didn't care though.

His gloved hand reached to rub at your neglected nub with passion, having a high pitched moan leave your lips. You jerked into his touch, a greedy imploration for more, your body betraying your very mind and virtues.

Your ask hadn't been ignored, the tight circles he drew becoming neater and more attentive to every twitch and move from you. You whimpered his name, feeling his fingers on you and his cock ruin and pick you apart being too much, even for you. You, who had been moulded and formed to his very imprint, wanting and constantly ready for him.

A brush of his fingers and feeling his cock drive into you just right had you sobbing. Your back arching up towards him, your nails making crescent shapes over his exposed and inked skin, as you had finished over his fat cock. He groaned at watching your orgasm wash over you, humming deeply while he witnessed your comeback to the scene. Your sensitive nerves not getting a break as his pace had only hastened, cock driving into you at the most proper and precise angles.

With a huff, his shirt dropped down to its correct spot, hiding his body from you. He groaned as he felt your insides squeeze him with a vice grip. His mouth was agape, stubble framing his jaw beautifully, kissable lips forming a sentence, "He can't fuck you like this. Not like I can. Nobody will ever be able to, because you're mine." His words were rushed, his thrusts becoming sloppy as his cock twitched inside you.

God, you nearly unraveled under him once more at his very words. You already knew who Ghost was speaking of, and no matter how good Price was in bed, he was right, he couldn't fuck you like Ghost could.

You didn't confirm his words, though. You couldn't, because then you'd have to admit he was right, right about you belonging to him. And oh, how you'd wanted that to be a cruel reality, held in his virulent grasp.

You heard his sounds grow in quantity and felt his thrusts quality begin to deteriorate. You knew he'd been close, "Inside, please."

"Not goin' anywhere else."

While fucking Ghost, you quickly learned that he was obsessed with the idea of finishing inside of you. You quickly had to start the pill, lest you wanted to carry his child. You didn't know why he loved it so much, maybe it felt good, maybe the sight of your pussy leaking his cum after being stuffed to the absolute brim was such an arousing sight to behold. But no, it was a means to claim you. To mark you as his in a way that no other would have the ability to.

And he'd do just that, again and again, and again, and again, andagainandagain-

He groaned, such a low and addicting sound as he doubled over you. His cum filled your cunt, his heavy balls slapping against your skin as he continued to fuck his seed back into you, your knuckles blanching at how tightly you had held both the sheets, and Ghost's arm.

The both of you were unmoving, his dick softening inside of you before he'd pulled out. He untangled himself from you, stare stuck on how your abused hole leaked his essence, using his thick fingers to push it back in. You remembered what he'd said before while doing so, 'Not good t'waste,'.

You laid still, regaining your breath as well as your ability to form thoughts while you felt a warm cloth tidy you up. His touch would sometimes linger on you for a moment too long to be considered an accident, yet you'd shake it off and consider it as one.

You clothed yourself, pulling on a set of bottoms, ultimately unnecessary, as the shirt you wore was like a dress on your shorter stature. You don't know how Ghost's article of clothing had ended up in your hands- on your very body nonetheless, his scent embracing you, yet sneering at you, feeling attached?

You checked his wounds and re-bandaged any as necessary, as you were still a doctor, after all. You'd had plenty of things that remained unsaid, to both yourself and to him. You'd wanted to tell him your true emotions towards him, but you were so afraid. Afraid of him, or rejection, or both. It wasn't clear, and it wasn't feasible to build a relationship with a man like him, anyway. With a man so fucked up and broken, incapable of feeling how you felt, even a sliver of it. Is what you had thought, anyway.

Ghost watched as you shoved on a windbreaker in a hurried way, slipping your shoes on as you'd wanted to run. Sprint off into the sunset and forget whatever fucked up relationship was between you and Ghost, if you could even call it such a thing. What the two of you were was truly complex, forever unknowing to you and him. Despite this, he yearned to say a single word to you, a pathetic beg forming in his mind.

He'd wanted you to stay.

#fanfic #smut #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod smut #cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

Bully!Eddie seeks you out one morning but he finds you hurt with a scrapped knee because some lowlifes tripped you for being the freaks plaything:-( he's not sure what happens to him but something inside him takes over and he starts to take care of you, pecking away your tears and carrying you to his van so he can drive you to his trailer to get Wayne's first aid kit

this post is 18+, minors dni. (i didn't tag this as dark, because i feel like i didn't make him too crazy of a bully. he's more of a tease, really, he just annoys her, it's not like he's beating her up or something 😭 regardless, don't like -> don't read!)

When Eddie rounds the corner towards your locker, he doesn't expect his sneaker to ram into something soft. Nor does he expect it to groan.

You blink tearily up at Eddie from your spot on the floor, scraped knees to your chest as your back presses against the cool metal doors.

Upon seeing Eddie's perplexed expression the tears in your eyes spill lushly down your cheeks, a broken sob coming from your throat as well as a gushing groan.

You tuck your chin to your chest, silently begging for Eddie to move on and realize this was not the time.

instead, you feel a soft touch on one of your knees, burning as it presses into your cuts, despite being gentle. You hiss and jerk your knees apart, not caring that it exposes your panties from under your skirt.

"'The fuck happened?" Eddie demands, "Did you fall over?"

"Someone tripped me," You sniffle, a sob wracking your frame, "Please, Eddie, just leave me alone!"

Upon hearing you hadn't been the victim of your own clumsiness, Eddie feels his chest tighten. He squats so fast that his knees crack, and you jerk your head out of your arms to stare at him, startled.

"Who tripped you?" His brows are furrowed, nearly knitting together in the middle of his face, "Only I'm allowed to tease you."

"Some- some basketball player," You gush through an anguished sob, "Eddie I really can't do this today, please. Please, just go away!"

"Will you shut your trap about me leaving? I'm not gonna skip out on you," He scoffs, "Do you have band-aids in that little pink purse of yours?"

Your lips puff out in a frown, and you shake your head, smearing a tear away from your eyes with a rough finger. Eddie swats your hand away, but when he strokes your cheek it's gentle, and he cleans away the rest of your anguish.

"'Kay. Can't tell the school nurse, she'll just give you a fuckin' ice pack. I'm gonna fix you up, okay honey?"

You feel his hands grip the bottoms of your thighs before you can process his words, but when you realize he's peeling your back away from the lockers to pick you up you bolt out of his grasp.

He looks offended, "Hey!"

"Don't-! What are you doing?" You smear away another tear from under your eye, the ache prominent behind your lids.

"I'm taking you home," He spells out, rolling his eyes, "So that I can clean you up," He reaches out a hand, "And then I'll drive you back to your place for the day."

"You.. you'll fix me up?"

"Yes," He urges, "You.. you don't think I'd, like, hurt you, right?"

"I dunno," You mumble, eyes downcast, "You push me."

"Not into anything!"

"You trip me."

"I always catch you."

"You say I'm a ditz."

"I'm a super super senior. Don't let me insult your intelligence."

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you stare at him from below your lashes. He's waiting, arms wide for you, and when you take a tentative step forwards, he pulls you the rest of the way in.

"There you go," He yanks you to be flush to his chest, breath fanning over your face. You're intimidated by the close proximity, because anytime he clears this much distance between you, he usually has you pinned against something while his hands roam your waist. Your heart thumps in excitement at what you're trained to expect, and you're slightly disappointed when he doesn't touch you further. What he does do, though, is lean forward to peck your cheek, lips shining with your tears when you pull away. You sniffle lightly, hands curled into the loose fabric of his t-shirt, confused and concerned with this new side of Eddie.

It feels nice to have him kiss your tears away. But it's so much more exciting, it gets your stomach in more of a whirl when he kisses your lips, nipping at them until they're red and sore and stinging. Apparently he feels the roving of your fingertips against his chest because his expression darkens slightly, deepening from a grin to a smirk.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, this isn't permanent. I'll be back to pushing you around once you've got bandages on those knees. I think you owe me a thank-you for helping you out, don't you?"

Butterflies swarm through your tummy as you nod vigorously, mouth practically watering at the thought of his cock. You go with him much more happily now that you know what you'll get after he's done, and you find you rather like his sensitive side, even if it only lasts until he's smoothed band-aids over your knees.

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multi-fandom-simp · 1 year

Text

Forever and always... or maybe Never (Alternate Ending #1)

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Hanahaki disease!AU

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: Some say that you can not die from a broken heart, but how wrong they are. When your lover and husband, Aemond Targaryen, begins to find comfort in another, the universe takes pity on you. Well, if you can count a deadly flower disease as pity. Will Aemond have enough time to save you, or do you have to save yourself?

TW: Profanity, mention and descriptions of blood, descriptions of choking and vomiting, hints and mentions of infidelity, mild mature scene, angst, I think that's all of them??

(A/N: Hello, I meant to post this a while ago, but I was struggling to get it to turn out the way I wanted. Even now I'm not sure if I 100% love it. Nevertheless, I give you one out of two of the alternate endings. It may seem similar in the beginning, but small details have changed in the first half, and then the second half is completely new! I would like to state that in no way, shape, or form do I think forgetting things heals wounds. With saying that, the reader does forgo her love for Aemond in attempt to save herself, but in a different way. A way that still keeps Aemond in the loop but makes him suffer. I hope you all like this better than I do. Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments or reblogs, I truly love to see them! Anyways, enjoy!)

Word Count: 3,435

Taglist: @libdarkheart (It's been a hot minute so I wasn't sure who else wanted a tag for the alternate endings)

Your love for Aemond hadn’t always been unrequited. At least you’d like to think it wasn’t. Both of you had grown together in the red keep as children. The two of you read together, ate together, and overall grew together. Aemond was your best friend before he was your betrothed. Whenever his mother was busy, it was your side that he clung to. The two of you were so attached at the hip that Alicent even took you to driftmark with them. You and the beast that came with you of course. No one really knows how you stumbled upon a hyena pup, nor how you tamed it to your side as a child. Nevertheless, they never forbid you from having it. If the Targaryens could have their dragons, and the Starks their dire wolves, then certainly you could have the tricky little beast that you insisted on calling Lark. In some ways, Alicent was thankful that you insisted on keeping it. After all, it was your hyena that stood between Aemond and the other children on that fateful night in driftmark. The beast had acted as your legs and ran faster than you could to reach the devastating brawl before you. Despite Aemond’s wails of pain, Lark refused to let the guards come too close. Only when you arrived did she move aside. Regardless of being young, that was the first night you realized your feelings for Aemond Targaryen. The very sight of him bleeding and broken struck you so deeply that you felt as if you had been maimed too. Alicent had noticed the change as well as she watched you stand by her son's side whilst he received stitches. Her dark eyes gazed deeply at how tightly you held Aemond’s hand, as if he would disappear. Aside from her, no one had ever loved her son this passionately, not even his own father.

“Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders” Rhaenyra demanded.

“ Was the blade of your son’s knife not enough sharpness for the night?” All eyes turned to you in surprise. You had never been known to speak out if it did not benefit you. Most of the time you were seen standing to the side, watching while others tore each other apart. Aemond could always see past it, see your true intentions. He knew you were studying how different people fought and where their weak points were. You had been around the red keep long enough to know that Lucerys Velaryon was Rhaenyra’s soft spot, and tonight you planned to use that against her.

“ You should watch your tongue when you speak to me” Rhaenyra warned, her eyes flickering over to her father to see if he would do anything.

“ or what, you’ll have Lucerys cut it out like he did Aemond’s eye” The neutrality on your face was enough to both scare and amaze Aemond.

“ You dar-”

“ Enough! My son has lost an eye and now you insist on arguing with a young girl?” Alicent moved up next to you, a hand on your back in support. She knew how terrifying it was to stand alone in a room full of adults scrutinizing you. That’s how her wedding felt after all. The queen’s hand never wavered through the interrogation of the green children. You held Aemond’s hand and she held you. Until things escalated that was. When the queen rushed towards Rhaenyra you stepped in front of Aemond. Shielding him from the sight of his mother in the midst of such violence. All Aemond could see in the midst of chaos was you, and all you could see was the river of blood on Rhaenyra’s arm. Little did you know how familiar you would be with crimson rivers in due time.

It was shortly after that night when your betrothal to the second son was announced. Alicent assured that it was needed to form an alliance between your family and theirs, when in reality it was a match made to ease the worried queen’s heart. In her eyes, no one else was a better match for Aemond than you, and for the longest time, you believed her. Oh, how foolish you were.

Six years passed with ease for the two of you. The first four were filled with fleeting touches, deep conversations, and young love.

“What is this, my lady, a journal?” Aemond’s voice floated around you as his chin found purchase on your shoulder. He set the lilacs he had brought with him beside you on the bench.

“ And if it is?” You hummed, closing the leather-bound book a bit too quickly.

“ Then I fear I must inspect it. Wouldn’t want my future wife to be keeping secrets from me.” You recognized the playful jest in Aemond’s voice and wasted no time in rushing up from the bench.

“ Not so fast, my love.” Aemond chuckled, ensnaring you from behind.

“ Aemond!” You protested, smacking his locked arms with the leather bound book.

“ Have I ever told you how much I adore it when you fight back?” Aemond snickered, his breath hot on your neck.

“ You pervert!” You feigned offense before looking ahead to your pet, “ Lark, get him girl, c’mon!”

“ You know she won't come. That ole girl loves me as much as she loves you." Aemond smirked, whistling for Lark in the way you taught.

" Traitor." You grumble with a hidden smile as the Hyena trots over to the pair of you casually. Aemond had let you down so that you could turn to face him.

The two of you were married when he was seventeen and you were sixteen. Your union was repeated twice over. Once in front of a sept full of people, and then in the tradition of old valyria. Aemond wanted reassurance that you would never part from him. Your marriage fueled two more years full of what was now mature love.

The edge of your teeth pulled at the pillow of your bottom lip as you stared at the dark oak door. The sound of jeering men swarmed your thoughts and threatened the bile at the back of your throat. You tried to hide your discomfort for Aemonds sake, but he was keen to your reactions by now.

“ Do not fret, my love, I will not let them hear your noises. I would never let them hear what is only meant for me and you.” Aemond spoke lowly, using your hips to turn you towards him and away from the door.

“ They’ll hear regardless.” You muttered bitterly, “They’re sat out there with their ears pressed against the door just wa-”

“ I said they would not hear you and I meant it” Aemond murmured into your ear with a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just beneath it.

“Aem-” You sighed contently.

“That’s it..sȳz riña.”Good girl. Your breathing faltered as the pet name slipped past his lips. He had figured out how much you liked to be praised from your journals.

“ You r-remebered…”You managed to gasp as he trailed down your neck.

“ I remember anything and everything that has to do with you. Starting small with the way you love lilacs and stretching all the way to how you separate the food on your plate. I would never forget anything about you, my love” Aemond promised between wet kisses. You shouldn’t have believed him, but you did.

You never would’ve thought that you could fall deeper in love with Aemond Targaryen after that night, but nine months later proved you wrong. The sight of him by your side as you delivered your son set permanent hearts in your eyes. He had not cared for the blood or screams, only you and the babe. The babe who he later named Aemys because it was as close as he could get to amethyst, your favorite color. Every little detail of the things he did revolves around you. That’s what fueled your denial the first time you coughed up blood.

Your eyes stared hard at the bloody petal laying in your palm. Had that come from you? You had read strange tales of those who bled flowers, but you believed it only to be fiction. Surly your blood would not change at the ripe age of ten and nine.

“ The flower that once bloomed love will soon bloom blood. “ Helaena aimlessly mumbled to herself from beside you.

“ What..?”Your heart sped up as you analyzed her words. No one had ever paid any mind to her silly riddles, except for you.

“ Blooming blood blooms a burial.” This time Helaena was focused on you as she spoke. Her eyes filled with unknown sorrow. You left Aemys to play with his cousins as you rushed to the library. No one else was there to question your sanity as you pulled book after book from the shelf to find the old dornish fables that lay hidden among them.

“Hanahaki..”Every word, every page, and every definition seemed to tear you apart further as you read. No other condition led to flowery bile except for this one. Aemond loved you though. How could this be possible?

Your thoughts would be answered two morrows later when Aemond returned from his siege of Harrenhal. Everyone had expected to see him arrive on dragon back alone, certainly not with a strong bastard. A gorgeous strong bastard at that. You felt your chest tighten as you gazed upon her dark flowy locks and enchanting eyes. Oh by the seven, how could you spite him for loving someone like her? If circumstances were different, then perhaps you too would fall under her spell. It wasn’t until you saw the way she clung to Aemond’s arm that the coughing fit started. This had to be it. What else could it be? Aemond hated physical contact with strangers, yet he let a previously unknown wetnurse cling to him like a paramour. The harder you thought about it, the harder you coughed. The fit only resulted in a petal or two, but in time that would grow. The longer Alys rivers stayed, the worse you got. Both you and the universe could feel Aemond straying from you, even if he spoke differently.

“I am not in love with her!”Aemond snapped, reaching his breaking point in this petty argument that had started hours ago at dinner.

“ You do not see the things I see, Aemond. The way you defend her, encourage her, look at her…all in the way you used to look at me-” It took effort to fight down the sickness as you fought. It had been months, but you made no move to tell Aemond, you couldn’t.

“ I do not love her as I love you-”

“ Yes, but you love her!” You cried in outrage, gripping the wall near you for support. Everything became so out of focus as you spoke the words. It was the first time you had ever admitted it to yourself. The dew of brick cooled your skin as you leaned against the wall. Your body trembled with deep echoey coughs as petals tore their way up your throat.

“ I did not mean to make you sick, dear wife” Aemond spoke softly and simply. Wife. He had never called you that before, not even on your wedding night. It was always my love or Ñuha prūmia. How ironic for him to call you his heart when sooner or later he would be the reason yours cease to beat.

“ Just go, Aem, please.” You pleaded, turning away, “I do not wish to fight.”

“ As you wish.” Aemond’s bow before he left was the final straw to crack your heart open. Why must he be so formal when you stand dying a few feet away? How can he not see how badly you suffer? Were the shadows beneath your eyes, or the crack of your lips not big enough clues for him? Would you need to be dead for him to finally understand?

Thankfully, the universe wouldn’t let you go that easily. Nor would it let Aemond leave your mind. You had tried it all, from no longer dining with him to pretending he no longer existed. However, it seemed that for every step you took away from him, he took one closer to you. Perhaps it was stupid to think that you could attempt to forgo your love for him in the first place.

“ ābrazȳrys. Ābra-” Aemond’s voice broke you from your thoughts. Bringing you back to chilled window of the library where you sat. Not that the chill affected your ailing body any.

“ How late has it gotten?” Bleariness dripped from your eyes and onto the pages of Aegon I’s story as you came to reality once more.

“ It’s nearly dusk” Aemond chuckled, “ How has the conquerors story gotten you so entranced when you’ve read it nearly a thousand times before?”

“ It’s practically a new story when you read it from a different perspective. I use to only ever understand it from Rhaenys’s point of view, but now-” You swallowed hard, not caring to finish your sentence.

“ ..but now? Whose eyes do you read through this time?” Aemond prompted, reaching to brush a stray hair from your forehead. You flinched away from the comfort, disgusted by the possibility of where those hands had been. If Aemond noticed the reaction then he did not comment on it. Perhaps out of fear that it would start an argument.

You looked back out the window, “ Visenya's. Though I suppose she didn't have as many qualms with her lifestyle as I do.”

Aemond stiffened, “ I don’t see how you would relate to Visenya. Perhaps your bravery is similar-”

“ Visenya was Aegon’s first wife. She bore him a son and then his attention was mainly focused on Rhaenys. For every night he spent with Visenya, he spent ten with Rhaenys” You turned to direct your eyes to his, “ I relate to Visenya in almost every aspect now.”

" I'm not sure I know what you're implying, dear wife" Aemond's eyes narrowed. You hummed in disbelief, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Perhaps you were tired of keeping quite about his affairs.

" You should know. After all you are the Aegon in my story and your dear Alys is Rhaenys" There was no venom in your voice, why would there be? You had long since come to terms with the fact that spite wouldn't cure you.

" That's what your upset over?"

"I am not upset, Aemond. I am in fact long past being upset." You shrugged, " Turbulent emotions will never heal the damage you caused, so why would I waste my time on them?"

" Damage? I have done nothing but love you?! Have you forgotten all of our escapades from the last two months? The library, the council room, the gard-" Aemond's words quickly died when he saw how you recoiled with each place. Realization crashed into his like an icy tidal wave. It was never you. This whole time, he had been making love to Alys and not you.

You had to fight to keep your steely composure and not wretch all over the library floor, " Do I mean so little to you, that you can not even tell whether or not I'm the one you're holding?"

Aemond paled, "Witchcraft. She had to of put a spell on me. I would never-"

Aemond caught your arm when you moved to walk around him, but you refused to hear his excuses," It no longer matters. Your realization has come too late."

" Too late? You talk as if you've asked the king for an annulment"

You let out a hearty laugh, one that might've made Aemond think you were crazy, "Annulment would've been merciful. Anything besides the path I've chosen would've been merciful."

" What are you talking about? What have you done?" Aemond inquired.

" What have I done?!" Your body tremored with laughter, " Perhaps you should ask yourself that question. Better yet ask yourself that question when your tongue is down Aly-"

Aemond watched in horror as your mocking laughter turned into a coughing fit. One that resulted in the bloody flowers that haunted your every waking moment. Aemond's trembling hands latched onto your arms quickly as you began to sway. It wasn't until Aemond pressed his lips to your chilled forehead that the petals ceased. His affection was a momentary bliss that swept the chronic darkness back under the rug in your mind, but moments don't last forever.

Aemond pulled back to rest his forehead against yours, "Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped you."

"You're the reason I'm like this." You scoffed, still resting against him.

" Then let me fix my mistakes-"

" You can not love someone back to life, Aemond. I will fix this myself." Your tone held no malice towards him, rather exhaustion. The last wave of sickness had taken quite a bit from you. Nevertheless, you were strong and independent. You needed to prove to Aemond that you did not need him to save you.

" I shall retire to my personal chambers tonight. Fair well, dear husband." Hearing you say 'husband' rather than ñuha zaldrīzes, My dragon, felt like a hot lashing to Aemond. Even when the two of you fought he was always 'your dragon', but perhaps this was your way of punishing him.

" Fair well, Ñuha prūmia" My Heart, and boy oh boy did your heart stutter upon hearing that again. Regardless of the feeling in your chest you kept walking until you were out of the room. Leaving Aemond to stand in the mess of your blood. In another life that would've been the last time Aemond saw you, but something had changed.

Aemond realized weeks later that it wasn't something that had changed, rather someone, and that someone was you. Your smile had begun to come back, as had your laughter and spirit. If only he knew how many sleepless nights and burning tears you had to fight through to get those things back. Part of Aemond held hope for a moment that he had a helping hand in it. Oh how asinine he was. He should've realized that you only begun to improve after avoiding him. That your eyes would never meet his. Not even now as the two of you occupied the gardens alongside Aemys and the ever dutiful Lark. Aemond had seen the hyena in the shadows quite a bit lately, watching his every move. Almost as if the beast was your eyes.

Your giggle caught him off guard as Lark took a bundle of grapes from your hand and dropped them into Aemys's little lap, "Lark, you traitor! I knew you first!"

~ " Traitor." You had grumbled with a hidden smile as the Hyena trotted over to the pair of you casually. Aemond had let you down so that you could turn to face him.~

Aemond now wishes he would've held you a bit longer, a bit tighter, but we don't all get what we wish for. He knows that you most certainly didn't, and he is the one to blame for that.

" You said the same thing to her all those years ago when she chose me over you" Aemond chuckled, moving to crouch beside you.

You looked to him with genuine confusion clouding your eyes, " I don't remember that?"

"What?" Aemond felt his world stop for a moment.

" I only remember you telling me that you must inspect my journal to be sure that your future wife wasn't hiding any secrets" Your eyes had never held anything other than love for Aemond, but now he couldn't detect anything other than curiosity and confusion.

" Alright...how about our wedding night? What do you remember of that?"

You tilted your head in thought before speaking, " We performed our duty, I know that much."

Aemond felt his throat close up. You had done the exact same thing his mother had done when she dealt with Hanahaki's. Willingly letting go of any memory that pertained his love for you as a way to ease your symptoms. There could be no unrequited love if you didn't remember why you loved him in the first place. In your eyes your friendship had ended long ago and been replaced by a political marriage.

" My love.."

"Hmm?" You peered up at him with a newfound clarity that he couldn't bring himself to destroy. Aemond knew he would have to fight to get things back to the way they used to be. Aemond would have to earn your love and affection. Honestly, it was the least he could do after how he took it for granted mere weeks ago. The journey from friends to lover would have to be rebuilt, and Aemond was willing to do whatever he needed to. He would start in the only way he knew how.

" Would you like to see the lilacs?"

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond x reader #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon angst #angst

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buttsmasher · 4 months

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The Time Vinny came to the Pharmacy

Tags/Warnings: Face Farting, Gay Face Farting, Willing Victim, Underwear Farting, Semi-Public

You lay across the counter, another boring day at the pharmacy. You’re scrolling through Instagram when you have to stop and stare at a picture your high school crush, Vinnie, posted. It’s a side view of him lifting a barbell and it highlights his arms, and that ass that you always wanted to be near in high school. The caption read, “It looks like leg day has been really paying off.” You, of course, double tap the photo.

“Yeah, that was a pretty good photo.” You look up to see Vinnie standing in front of you giving you his signature smile. All of your high school memories come rushing back and you quickly remember why he was your crush. 6’3”, charming smile, hot body, and he was honestly one of the nicest guys in town. “Not to brag or anything.” His smile disarms any awkwardness you might have felt.

“What brings you in?” You ask putting your phone away, giving him your full attention.

“I’m here for a prescription.”

“Gotcha.” You go ahead and enter his name into the system and quickly grab his prescription. “So how’s life going?” You make small talk as you scan the barcode of the prescription bag.

“Oh you know, just trying to survive the end of the world.” You both chuckle. “But my girlfriend broke up with me so... trying to get over that.”

“Sorry to hear it man. It’s $15.12.”

“Yeah, she said I was going to the gym too much. And she said I was too gassy for her.” He pulls out a credit card and hands it to you.

“Gassy?” You raise your eyebrow as you take his card.

“Yeah. It’s probably the protein shakes because they go right through me. But imagine being broken up with because you’re too gassy.” You shake your head, not able to imagine it.

“Sounds like to me you need someone who’d appreciate your gassiness.” You give him a wink as you hand him his card back and prescription. You then go back to leaning onto the counter, elbows on the counter with your head being cradled by your heads.

“Is that so?” He looks you up and down briefly before leaning onto the counter himself. “Do you know anyone, within a, oh I don’t know, one minute radius because I got some big ones brewing.”

“Hmm,” You pretend to think about it. “Carla I’m going on break!” You yell to the pharmacist on duty. You walk out from the employee section and gesture towards Vinnie to follow you into the exam room.

He doesn’t miss a beat, he follows and you close the door and lock it. Before he even says anything you are on your knees pulling at his gym shorts. His boxer briefs are a bit sweaty, most likely he came straight from the gym.It doesn’t stop you from smashing your nose into his musky crack and taking a deep whiff. It’s intoxicating, and you let out this small moan that just makes Vinnie laugh.

“I haven’t even farted yet.” He jokes as he lets you inhale his scent.

“Sorry, sorry, you just smell…”

PFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT

He lets a harsh fart that interrupts your sentence. You don’t even try to finish the sentence, instead you just focus your energy on inhaling the toxic air. It’s bad, and you kind of understand why his girlfriend broke up with him.The smell reminds you of a skunk and it’s just pure rotten ass fumes. You can’t help the fact that you’re so painfully erect.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Vinnie chuckles. “I just couldn’t hol’ it in anymore.”

“It’s good.” Your voice is strained but you give him a thumbs up.

“Man, you must of inhaled all of it, because I didn’t get a whiff of it up here.” He wiggles his body a little bit bouncing you in between his butt cheeks. “Shit I just may need to keep you around as my fart vacuum.”

“No complaints here.” You pull your nose out his ass and begin to stand up causing him to push you back down.

“I didn’t say I was finished.” He wraps his hand in your hair before pulling you back against his sweaty undies.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT

This one was even worse than the previous. It was horrid and you honestly kind of wanted to pull your face away. But before you even get a chance to appreciate that last bomb, he’s hitting you with more gas.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFTTTT PFFFFFFBBRRFFFFFFFFTTTT

He wasn’t joking when his girlfriend said he was gassy. You did your best to keep up with his butt bombs, but you feel yourself starting to get dizzy from only being able to breathe in his rotten egg smelling farts. You forcibly pull away from his ass and take a deep breath in before you push your nose back in against his clothed hole.

PFFFFFFFF PFFFFFTT

He lifts his leg as two squeakers expel from his nasty ass. “Fuck.” You groan as you keep taking loud huffs. “Jesus christ, how do you have so much gas?” You pant as you pull away from his ass again.

“I’m telling ya, it’s gotta be the protein shakes.” You try to catch your breath.

“Fuck man.” You wipe your forehead where there’s sweat beading on your face.

“You want more?” He’s biting his lip like he’s holding a big one in.

“Hell yeah!” You don’t waste any time getting back into position.

“It’s a big one, do you think you can take it?” He warns.

“Take your best shot, big guy.” You give a playful smack against his ass.

“Your funeral.” He starts grunting, and for a moment you’re honestly worried that he’s about to shit himself.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTT

He lets out the loudest and nastiest fart you’ve ever heard. And the smell is god awful. Somehow mixing all sorts of horrid scents that you didn’t think were possible. At first you smelled rotten eggs, but then somewhere around the 5 second mark it went to old garbage, and then another few seconds and it was sewage. There wasn’t any way you couldn’t pull away from that.

You are hacking up a lung as Vinnie laughs at you. “I warned you man.”

“Fuck. I didn’t know you were that brutal.” You gag, somehow getting a taste of his nasty brew. “I-I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“That’s fine.” He reaches down and pulls his shorts up. “It’s not every day I get to bomb someone.”

“Well if you were dating me, that wouldn’t be a problem.” You try to turn the situation in your favor, but you’re still trying to catch your breath.

“Hm, how bout we get coffee first.”

“Deal.” You say as he helps you get back on your feet.

“You think you can go back to work?” You give a thumbs up as he helps walk back to the employee area.

“What did you do to him?” Clara takes you from Vinnie and then scrunches her face. “God you stink.” She moves her face as far away as she can. “God, that’s awful, you need to go home.” She kind of pushes you away and Vinnie catches you again. You both kind of laugh before Vinnie helps you out to your car.

“You free tomorrow?” You ask nervously.

“Yeah, meet me at the Piñata Cafe at 10:00.”

“Cool.” You give him a small wave.

When your door is closed and his back is to you, you start dancing. You’ve got a date with Vinnie, your high school dream almost fulfilled.

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ellemaru · 4 months

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Simon "Ghost" Riley General Headcanons

A/N: This is just headcanons that have popped up in my head or whatever but I'm trying my best to keep it lore accurate/based off of lore. There will be some mentions of abuse, mental health, substance abuse (alcohol and drugs) and body dysmorphia due to how his character is.

General Appearance:

Starting with appearances, I think he's 6'2-6'4 and weighs 200-230 lbs (189-195 cm and 90-104 kgs).

He has prominent muscles, but they aren't Arnold Schwarzenegger huge but still large enough to the point that most people are impressed.

He has short, blondish hair where in the winter, it darkens to a light sandy brown if he doesn't go outside.

He had more of a fair and cool undertone but after spending time in the Middle East he darkened up slightly.

Everyone he knows always debates whether his eyes are green, grey or hazel but he personally thinks they are hazel with a light blue on the edges.

His nose is slightly hooked but is also kind of crooked from the front due to it being broken a gazillion times.

General Personality:

As proven previously with the "Alone" mission, Simon is a pretty funny guy.

I feel like there's a common misconception about him that he's super serious and cold and has no emotion but that's FAAAAAALSE.

When he's not on duty I'm a firm believer he acts sassy with the others to be funny.

He obviously knows that there's a time and place for everything but he also knows when a joke or sarcastic comment is needed to lighten the mood up.

I feel like his enhanced ability to read the room kind of stems from him having to always observe and walk on eggshells with his dad in the past.

Like if he misread his mood he could've potentially gotten hurt, leading to Mama Riley defending him causing her to get hurt too but that's for another post.

Back to the humor I feel like a lot of times he's just unintentionally funny like he'll say something, and because of his delivery people laugh and he just sits there confused like "???? I didn't make a joke"

100% a workaholic with no work-life balance because who needs that when your job is your life!

Once the guy starts working, he ain't gonna stop until he says so.

Super observant, he notices the fine details so if you think you can cut corners around him? You're mistaken.

Simon is moody af but that's definitely heightened by his kinda crappy mental health.

General Family:

He hates his dad.

Did I mention he hates his father?

For sure a mama's boy but not in an "I was my son's first girlfriend" kind of way.

He looks up to his mom like crazy and still has an emotional attachment to her from when he was young due to his father being emotionally, physically, and mentally abusive to him.

Anytime he comes back from a mission, has a rough day, or just needs advice on a decision or life he ALWAYS calls Mama Riley.

She's literally his rock because he sees her as someone who is steadfast and strong who goes based on the facts and how she takes things for face value, similar to Simon. I think this also gave Simon an admiration of single mothers and women in general since he grew up with more of a perspective from his mother than his father.

He loves Tommy to bits and pieces, and they were hands down partners in crime back in their teenage years before Simon enlisted.

If you go around Manchester, you can still see some of their graffiti tags on different things.

When Tommy became a drug addict, Simon was there for him from day 1 till he finally got clean.

A/N: This isn't much but if y'all want more I can work on another that's more detailed! Requests are always open so leave some suggestions on things you want to see!

#cod #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost headcanons #ghost fluff #call of duty #call of duty headcanons #ghost riley #simon riley

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wellgoslowly · 8 months

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Lockwood and Co. How do I begin to talk about this insane universe that has literally changed my life in so many ways in such a small amount of time?

I think it was probably January 27th that I actually got the notification for the trailer for the show from Netflix’s Youtube. I don’t know exactly what it was that made me interested in the trailer in the first place and set it apart from the hundreds of trailers that netflix has posted that I’ve ignored, but there was just something about it that made me think “oh, this looks interesting, let me take a look at the trailer.” Thank god I did.

If I were to go back in time to that version of linnie and tell them that their life was about to be changed, I think they would’ve laughed. At that period of time I’d had a 2 year long hyperfixation on the grishaverse and I couldn’t think of anything that would’ve possibly broken me out of that long ass period of chaos. And then I watched Lockwood and Co and I immediately fell in love with an entirely new world.

Lockwood and co means so much to me for so many reasons. One of them is that I’ve never seen myself more reflected in a character than I see myself in Lucy Carlyle- hence the name Linnie. I didn’t even realize it until Aaron ( @queer-and-nerdy ) pointed it out (after I pointed out how much of a George kinnie they are) and then everything made sense in a way? Like Lucy Carlyle is the truest form of a comfort character for me because we are basically the same person and I never realized how special a character could be until I met Lucy Joan Carlyle.

Another reason why I love this universe so much is because I love found family, and I love the found family that Jonathan Stroud has written. The Iron Trio will always be so special to me because of how often it is shown and how deeply it is known that they love each other unconditionally, Even George and Lucy, who have their differences when they first meet, grow to love each other in their own way and I genuinely believe that the family found within the Iron Trio is one of the most beautiful relationships I’ve ever read or seen portrayed on screen.

I also just truly love the worldbuilding. The world that Jonathan Stroud has created has such an amazing homely feel to it that I will never tire of. I love literally everything about it- the lore, the execution, the way that he was able to make ghosts even more terrifying for such a young audience.

Lastly, I love the fandom. I’ve talked a little bit about how much a kind and welcoming fan space like the l&co tumblr means to me and how I have had rocky situations in a fandom in the past, but I truly cannot even begin to talk about how much this online space has truly changed me in so many ways. I feel like I can have open, honest, and constructive opinions on here without being scared to speak my mind or fear the repercussions of not being 100% happy all the time. This fandom is the most accepting and loving fandom I have ever known, and I’d like to tag a few of the people who have made this place so loving and enjoyable to partake in. Shout out to @ikeasupremacy @oblivious-idiot @losticaruss @youmanynotrestnow @neewtmas @thisgameissonintendo @readyafterthesunrise @waitingforthesunrise @yveni @uku-lelevillain @impossibleclair @donutcats @jesslockwood @kazbrekkerfast @krash-and-co @carlyleandco @biscuitrule @maraschinomerry @lockwood-lover @lvockwoods @givemea-dam-break @someonetooksendnoodles @nomolosk @thedonutdeliverygirl @neverendinglabyrinth @tangledinlove - I defo missed a lot of people but these are just the few that I could remember right off the top of my head <33

All in all, I love this show and these books and this world more than I could ever possibly express. Happy 10th Birthday to The Screaming Staircase, and a very Happy Lockwood & Co Day to all whom I have the honor of celebrating with. I love you all very dearly, and remember: “just reckless enough”.

xoxo,

linnie <3

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2frosty4you · 2 months

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Crushing on You [Soldier Headcanons]

Soldier x Fem!reader | 427 words | Masterlist | Ask/Request

Big thanks to the no.1 solider lover (my gf) for beta reading and helping me add some stuff to this <3

╒═══════════════════╕

➼ Either he falls in love INSTANTLY or he doesn't at all.

➼ Soldier is Soldier, he isn't going to waste time with someone who doesn't like America, can't fend for themselves or can't bounce off of his energy.

➼ If you're strong, can fend for yourself and he saw you snap a mans neck, great! he's super in love.

➼ But if you ALSO love his raccoons he is proposing on the spot, with the head of an enemy spy.

➼ When he starts to like you, you will know instantly. This man has no shame in shouting confessions across the battle field, mid rocket jump and landing in front of you with both of his legs broken.

➼ Scout would attempt to tell you that soldier is in love with you, and you'd sigh and just say.

"I know"

➼ He'd charge into the enemy team, yelling his battle cry and will return to you with many trinkets (BODY PARTS) (pls accept them)

➼ If you get killed on the field he'd get revenge so fast, and march over to you with the head, salute and rocket jump away.

➼ He NEEDS you to celebrate the 4th of July with him, he'll give you clothes caked in the American flag, force you out to watch the fireworks and sit around as Engie and him tend the barbecue.

➼ If you love his raccoons (which you must) hell get them into the base even if medic is yelling at him as they invade the medbay because they bit scout 36 times (and counting)

➼ Soldier is kind of easy to fluster.

➼ But its in his own kind of way, if you're pocketing him he'll be all flustered and proud of himself in being worthy of a pocket.

➼ But if you're just aiding him in team wiping, keeping the enemy corpses in place as he decapitates them. Well he'll be burning red when you offer to help him with his strange hobby. (even carrying some back if he cant hold them all)

➼ Will follow you around, like some rabid guard dog

➼ Takes you to a real American bar, think a large ox head on the wall. American flags on the wall. He'd order the most disgusting beer and you'd sit beside him until another man comes up trying to get your number.

➼ It literally no time he breaks that bottle and dives at the man, starting bar fight after bar fight (you two are banned from so many bars, like SO many)

╘═══════════════════╛

Posted 5.03.2024 Tag list: @therobloxmafia

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morskisir · 5 months

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Answer to this ask I had to post seperately because I reached the character limit or something.

OHHHH Anon you are not ready. I think about this bastard so much and too deeply.

Before I get into it:

I love how you worded this question- gives a nice atmosphere.

Just to be clear this is all about RED Sniper. I apologise to any BLU Sniper enjoyers for I don't have thoughts about that guy.

I'm not the biggest fan of the comics for many reasons so don't mind me retconning a lot of that.

In the end these are all MY opinions and views of him- if you don't like them that's no problem. It's free real estate.

And FINALLY; my thoughts, under read more:

OKAY, let's start with what even got me to interpret him the way that I do; hell yeah baby, it's Meet the Sniper time.

I've seen MANY people often assume that Sniper is one of the most normal/chill people of the 2fort nine- but the impression I got is that he wants you to think he's normal so desperately despite everything else pointing to how fucking weird he actually is. Simply noticing the stuff he's saying makes it a lot more clear. The very beginning where he goes "Boom, headshot," making light of taking another person's life so swiftly. "Cause at the end of the day; as long as there's two people left on the planet- someone is gonna want someone dead," really positive light you see the world in, Sniper.

Of course you can take this as him being "realistic", and I do agree he's more of a realist than a pessimist or optimist, but "...have a plan to kill everyone you meet," is SO fucked up. Why is his first thought when meeting someone to know how to kill them? This to me is him not being able to properly connect to other people/understand them or actually SEE them as people. Not to mention his smile after delivering that shot in the timelapse of him sniping (AND after stabbing Spy). This cunt enjoys killing. He's not the type to slowly kill someone or torture them- but he is the type to feel satisfaction after planting a bullet in someone; give himself a pat on the back for it- or perhaps find humour in the kill.

The conclusion this brought me to is that he is an unreliable narrator in "Meet the Sniper". (Also the "..be polite," line. Yeah, sure, dude. Your voice lines are very polite.)

CAN WE TALK ABOUT HIS FUCKING TEETH? The way his teeth look and how much they're shown to the viewer by exaggerating his mouth movements feels like a "this guy is NOT normal" sign. No one in the game has teeth similar to him and his canines are HUGE. Like holy shit, he's an apex predator.

A comment @cheebuss (I know you wanna get tagged) saw once has been a running joke between us- it was basically "He indicates so he's normal," which is fucking hilarious, but I can genuinely refute that point. First of all we see him fucking speeding in the beginning of the video- to be fair we don't know what the speed limit on this road is, BUT:

Cunt drives around with a broken side mirror. That's really unsafe, obviously. A good chunk of that mirror has gone to shit and he does not care to replace it (which feeds into my headcanon of him being stingy/not wanting to spend money because he lived on a farm and they did everything themselves). Speaking of his van; it gave me the impression he likes having everything he needs near him- he doesn't need a grand, expensive space to feel comfortable. (I headcanon that he's actually scared/unnerved by vast, empty spaces/buildings) ALSO I think he's messy and prefers the claustrophobia of his van. I like to believe his childhood room was much the same (to the detriment of his mother)- that's his safe space damn it!!!

And here I can transition into talking about his parents!!! : D Of course, not much was shown to us of Mr. & Mrs. Mundy, but we can still glean some stuff from the video- and partially- the comics.

His father very obviously disapproves of his job, calling him "a crazed gunman", and showing his morals do not align with Sniper's. Sniper calls for his mum during the phone call shown at the very end of the video- looking annoyed and somewhat distressed. It's clear to me that they've had this argument many times and Mrs. Mundy is the mediator in them. I think she disapproves of the job as much as her husband does, but is sick of hearing them argue to that extent. Regardless of this conflict, Sniper loves and cares for his parents- they are his world. He doesn't care for anyone else, most of the shit he does is for their sake and continuing to provide support so they can live a stable life at their farm as they get older. It's one of the nicest things about Sniper.

Although, I do think he struggled to get them to understand him properly. He is a quiet man who doesn't express a lot of his emotions. That will complicate things, especially if he doesn't talk about it- and he doesn't!!! : D

Despite this, I think they were the people he was closest to. Sniper, to me, is a guy who's never had friends and has been lonely as well as isolated his entire life. "Too weird to live, much too rare to die." And this is a VERY long time we're talking about; DECADES. Decades of minimum to no human connection. (Just to note; he is almost 50 to me. The comic writers fucked the timeline up and made him a 20 something year old. The Sin. Do not speak of it to me. It makes him less interesting/compelling I'm not kidding.) He is anxious in social settings, barely speaks up, and prefers to simply back away when he doesn't know how to deal with something. (SUPER DUPER AUTISM + SOCIAL ANXIETY!!!) Does he try to interact with his co-workers? Veeeeery little. He yearns for connection he convinces himself he doesn't need. He trusts no one. He's a mystery to them.

But hey!!! Less distractions from his job!!! (Bad transition) This man is genuinely incredible at what he does- I keep replaying the part where he reloads his rifle. He was not kidding about being efficient (he also kills the entire BLU team in that video??). The lad's got incredible patience, aim, control, and overall understanding of what he's doing. There's something fucked up about him observing the people he's targetting like prey, but let's leave that for when I mention his previous job as a tracker (if I do). I imagine the only thing he excelled at in school (he did go there!! He can write!!!) is maths, as that is very much needed when you're a sniper.

BTW I think he barely passed school; he hated being there, had no interest in school work and his teachers kept pestering him about his social life. Leave him alone, he doesn't need that (he does).

Most of his focus went to his parents' farm where I think he mostly took care of the animals....or went out to hunt them; which is how he learned to shoot out of a rifle in the first place. (His dad taught him.) He's not exactly an animal guy but he's also not not an animal guy.

It's complicated.

ANYWAYS, I've talked enough about one single video. Let's mention his in game voice lines a bit!

There's a LOT of material there but here's the stuff I want to mention:

He talks to himself a lot. He isn't out there with the others- his job is to be perched up somewhere high and shoot from a distance so he doesn't get spotted. He makes so many jokes that only HE's going to find funny, except "You've got a forehead on ya like a coffee table," which is genuinely the funniest thing he's ever said. Boy voices his thoughts and tries to entertain himself when he's alone- I don't judge him for that. He has to sit there for hours in complete focus (he helps himself via a lot of coffee). I DO judge the things he says, however.

He's violent. (WHAT!?) There's plenty of examples but I would like to mention one adressed to his teammates. One of the "Jeers" commands is "Should've saved a bullet for some of you blokes!" which, hey, what the fuck? That's scary. He got so frustrated he threatened his own team with murder. (It's kinda funny) To me this shows he's bad at controlling his outbursts or that he never learned how to deal with them. (Autism moment!!!)

He literally growls.

There's this line addressed to Spy: "What goes around comes around, you snotty little nance." If you're not aware- "nance" is derogatory Australian slang for a prissy, effeminate gay man. I headcanon Sniper as a homosexual man so it tickles me that he's so insecure about this fact. It's sad, absolutely, but I find humour in this horrible man being a homophobic homosexual. Project your insecurities onto a guy who can read people extremely well, why don't you. He won't do anything about it, I promise :) (Lie)

I was doing my best to not mention SniperSpy but CAN WE TALK ABOUT HIS LINES AIMED AT SPY AND HOW THEY'RE DIRECT RESPONSES TO THINGS SPY SAYS? (plus the highest number of revenge lines he has directed at someone is Spy)

-> = response to:

"Aww, did I get blood on your suit!?" -> "You got blood on my suit."

"I was never on your side either! Wanker!" -> "I never really was on your side."

"Ah, my God, you've been shot. Did you get a look at the handsome rogue who did it?" -> "I'll see you in hell, you handsome rogue."

BY THE WAY, THAT LAST LINE? SPY ONLY SAYS THAT TO HIS COUNTERPART. WHAT, WERE YOU LOOKING AT HIM? WERE YOU WATCHING HIM ALL DAY? WHY DO YOU REMEMBER SO MANY THINGS HE'S SAID? WHY ARE YOU SO FOCUSED ON HIM? ARE YOU OBSESSED WITH HIM? ARE YOU OBSESSED? WHY ARE YOU OBSESSED WITH A LITTLE NANCY BOY? HM?

There is so much more I could mention. I think whatever thing he has going on with Spy is super important to him, but I will hold back for your sake as I can talk about this for hours. You have no clue how many parallels there are, etc.

Anyways, he's in Expiration Date! A little bit! He doesn't say anything. <3 I'm proud of him!!! <3

He literally just stands around ominously in the shadows (and finds RED Spy being made fun of very amusing).

"Hehe."

(I just noticed he took his watch off and put it on his vest. This is an autism moment because I, too, hate having something on me that I don't usually have so I need to balance it out by removing something else; if I have it on me. Either way it's sensory suffering.) (Him being super attached to his hat and glasses is also an autism moment. He is no one without them.)

And then he has that one part in The Bread Fight(tm) where he gets confused by Pauling and Scout pushing the bomb.

"Tails gets trolled" looking ass.

I like watching him fall over.

After he falls here, he takes his kukri out which was... attached? situated? It was behind the strap of his arrow carrier. I think that's cool. I also think he wouldn't be doing that during matches because Spy is very much capable of stealing it/putting it away without Sniper noticing, even if it was literally on his back.

Also, I am a firm believer in "Sniper can only do one thing extremely well and has little to no interest in creative stuff," so I disagree with the idea of him being able to play a saxophone. You could say he was made to do that in school, but this guy is a smoker. I do not believe he can do that. You cannot convince me.

I think that's enough! This doesn't even go past the hypothetical tip of the iceberg, but it's a lot of words. This is the very basic stuff you have to know about how I see this cunt.

Thank you for letting me share some of my insanity.

#ask #morskiwords #tf2 #sniper #sniperspy mention i gues #thank you so much for this ask i love talking about this fucked up thing i care about too much #i wanted to include the 'feelings?' line but id have to tackle too many things i hadnt even mentioned here #overall im really surprised at how little of my thoughts are in here. i guess you dont realise the extent you think about a character until #-you write it down #uh. yeah. im normal

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