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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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Dirty Work 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: weekends aren't for rest, they're for being sick and anxious so Monday will be a treat.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you enter, you try your best not to make too much noise. You set the bags down lightly and ease the inner door shut. You can hear your dad and the soft sound of puzzle pieces meeting the table.

“Ya know, thirty years almost, but I can see her just like yesterday,” he says.

Your heart clutches. You never heard him talk about your mom. When you were a kid and didn’t know better, he just ignored all your questions about her. When you got older, you stopped asking. You figured it’s easier for both of you to pretend she never was.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Leslie comforts, “you know, in my line of work, I’ve seen it over and over. It’s a wound you can’t heal.”

“Oh yeah,” he grits, “yeah, I’d say…”

You swallow and lean back on your foot, crinkling the bags behind you. You cringe as you hear sudden movement. You turn and work to slip off the white loafers. You pretend like you weren’t listening as Leslie’s shadow looms from the archway.

“You’re home,” she proclaims, “we didn’t think you’d be so early.”

“Me either,” you say as you face her.

Her lashes flick and her mouth opens, “oh my, you look so good! Weren’t you working today?”

“Uh, did some work,” you lie, “I got a few hours off so I… did some running around.”

“Oh, gosh, come on, you have to show your dad,” she takes you by the wrist and tugs you around, “Charles, look at your girl.”

She presents you with her hands on your shoulders. You can’t even look at your dad as the couch creaks and he grunts at your appearance. He snorts and pushes another piece into the puzzle.

“What am I looking at?” He sneers.

“Charles, don’t be like that. Look at her hair, and this dress,” she touches your hips, “must be a nice job, huh?”

“It’s alright,” you shimmy out of her grasp, “I just… needed something more presentable–”

“Something shorter,” your father scoffs, “so when she’s bending to tidy the floors you can see right up.”

“Charles, that’s gross,” Leslie reprimands.

“Truth can be like that,” he snickers, “think some man’s buying her fancy clothes so she can sweep? We both know how she pays for you.”

“No… it’s not…” you shrug and give up, “I’m gonna put my stuff away and start dinner. If you want, you can head off early too.”

“Oh, I don’t mind sticking around,” Leslie says as she once more sits beside your dad, “let me know if you need any help with dinner. Don’t wanna get anything on that nice little dress.”

You nod and hesitate. You can’t tell what she means by that. For as much as she can call out your father, she often speaks with an edge of her own. Just like the cigarettes, she must assume his insults are your fault.

You leave the room and grab the bags. You carry them up the stairs to your room. You shut the door and sit on the end of the bed. You bend and cradle your head, trying to set it straight after the dizzying day.

👠

The bus provides a momentary break from your hostile world. There is no safe place for you. Home is barely that and work is… confusing. Your only escape is to focus on your tasks and get through them. Get through Mr. Laufeyson’s list then come home and the chores left untouched.

Your look at the time on your phone and black the screen. You get a glimpse of your reflection off the glass as you do. You didn't do too bad with the makeup. It looks okay. You tried not to use too much as you recalled Eliana's instructions.

You shake off your doubts and airy feeling around your legs. You're not use to the skirt or the pretty fabrics. You feel overdressed and out-of-place, but the latter is so new to you.

Through the gate and along the edge of the drive, you hear your name flutter in the air. You stop short as you see Frigga strolling along the hedges, caressing the petals of a rose. She draws away and strides towards you, an ivory skirt paired with a golden brown blouse and nude heels.

“You do start early, don’t you?” She approaches and takes your hand, “come, let’s have tea.”

“Oh, uh, I…” you let her tug you along the walkway towards the front door, “the carpenter is coming today–”

“Ah yes, Loki mentioned you were working on restoring the gazebo. That’s lovely. We used to have tea there, me and… his wife. She was a laugh.”

“Mm,” you hum. Whoever this woman was, she must’ve been very special. You imagine a beautiful woman with silky hair and long legs like Frigga. She must’ve fit right in.

“I suppose if it was meant to be, it would be. I only hope my son can find happiness again,” she squeezes your hand before she lets you go.

She opens the door and waves you in ahead of her. You slip out of your flats much easier than your usual lace-up sneakers. She steps out of her heels and sighs.

“That’s his problem, you know? He’s lonely but too proud to admit it,” she sidles around you and leads you down to the kitchen. You follow and watch as she goes to the counter and pours from the waiting teapot. “Though I haven’t seen him today. I suppose he’s sleeping in, it is the weekend.”

You tilt your head but don’t comment. For as long as you’ve worked for him, not very long at all, he’s never slept past your arrival. Well, not so far as you know.

“I do love this skirt,” she comes back around the counter and touches the tweed, “wonderful pairing,” she touches the blouse with the petal shaped cutouts around the high-collar, “you’re learning.”

“Um, yeah, all the clothes are so pretty,” you say.

“Please, have your tea. I’m sure you have time before the carpenter,” she urges.

“Right, er, I’ll just take my bag upstairs first,” you say, “out of the way.”

“Sure,” she accepts with a kind smile, “how about I take this out to the patio, we can enjoy the sun?”

“Alright,” you agree and hike up your bag, “thank you.”

You quickly flit off and head upstairs. You weren’t expecting her to be there. You just hadn’t thought of it. You only dreaded facing your unbendable boss and his persistent stare.

You go into the library and tuck your bag under the writing desk. You double check the schedule in your phone; Ronan, 10. You have an hour before he arrives.

Your mind is already on the gazebo as you scurry back into the hall. As you shut the door gently, you hear a groan. You peer down towards the unusual noise and blink at the slightly ajar door. The main bedroom. Mr. Laufeyson’s. It rises again before a drawn out exhale, his timbre rumbling low.

You quickly set back to your path and flee downstairs. Maybe he’s talking in his sleep, or more likely, stretching out a few kinks. Your curiosity quickly dissipates as you pass through the dining room and out into the patio.

Frigga sits with large pointed sunglasses over her eyes. She tilts her face up to the sunlight as you sit before the other cup of tea. You pull it close and look out at the yard. A streak of green catches your gaze.

You watch the hummingbird hover over fuchsia petals. You stare dreamily, lulled by the peace of the moment as Frigga merely sips and basks. This isn’t so bad. The bird zips between flowers before disappearing behind a tree. In his stead, the skittish chipmunk scrambles along the railing of the patio. You smile at his fluffy tail.

“I’ll be off tomorrow,” Frigga states, “my husband will be expecting me. Oh, but I’ll miss you, darling.”

“Is it very far?” You wonder.

“Four or five hours,” she answers, “not very far but enough. It’s so lovely up where we are. I wish you could see. Perhaps one day. When things are better.”

Before you can answer, there’s a subtle click behind you.

“Morning,” Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is unleashed onto the scene as the patio door swings inward, “mother,” he pauses before he enunciates your name, “beautiful day out.”

Your shoulders stiffen and nearly touch your ears as you sit straight. He pulls out the chair at your other elbow and sets down another teacup with a clink. He sits and smooths back his dark hair, tucking the spiralled ends behind his ears.

“Late morning,” his mother remarks, “any tea left?”

“Some, shall I–”

He puts his hands flat, moving to stand but she shoos him as she’s quicker to rise, “I’ll get it myself. And you darling,” she dips her chin in your direction, “more?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m still… working on mine. Thank you, Frigga,” you say, mindful of each syllable.

She leaves and the door clicks shut behind her. You stare at the brim of your cup, turning it slowly between your hands as Laufeyson raises his own to his lips. He drinks carefully before putting it down again.

He’s quiet. He shifts and plants an elbow on the table. He turns his attention to the yard and watches. You dare to look up as well, the chipmunk poking his head out from the bush where he hides. He ran away at Mr. Laufeyson’s arrival.

“Cute little fellow,” he remarks as he faces you again. You quickly lower your eyes.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Mmm,” he drones and taps his fingers on the porcelain teacup, “you… that’s a nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” you lift your cup and drain most of it, gulping painfully as you put it back down, “I should go start. Ronan will be here shortly–”

“The carpenter?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I have him penned in–” You explain.

“And? He is a carpenter, he knows what he’s doing. I doubt he needs you watching over his shoulder.”

“I know, uh, but I should be there to let him in,” you slide your cup off the table.

“You’re not even done your tea.”

“I’ll finish on my way in–”

“You’re avoiding me,” he accused and you wince.

“What?”

“You’re running away? Why?” He challenges.

“I’m not, I– I have work to do.”

“Work I give you. I’m your boss, you may sit and finish. I’ll permit it.”

You falter and set the cup on the table. You lower yourself back to the seat and fold your hands. You look at your lap and push your shoulders back. He is back to his haughty demands, you find that part of him easier to handle.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I wasn't running away.”

He scoffs thinly and his nostrils flare as he stares off at the hedges that edge the patio, “I wonder why you can be so quick to flee me when you sat and let my brother feel you up.”

“Huh?” You blanch, stuck by the accusation. “Mr. Laufeyson, I–”

“I know him well and I’m not as blind as my mother. I saw it. You didn’t say a word. You just let him do it,” he clucks, “why?”

Your eyes round and you bat your lashes. You nearly choke, the acidic flavour of the tea drying on your tongue. Was it that bad? You tried not to think about it, to let it affect you, even as the memories flashed in your head, you just tried not to feel anything about it.

“I didn’t… well… he’s your brother, Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t want to assume… to offend–” you stammer.

“So you let him do what he wants?” He snarlss as he turns his sights on you, a brow arch tritely. “You do not work for him, you work for me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do,” you sputter, confused by his anger. “I tried to…”

Your voice trails off. No, you didn’t try. You were too afraid too. He’s right, you let Thor keep touching you and you didn’t say anything, you didn’t move, you just froze up.

“It makes me wonder,” he cups his chin, leaning on his elbow, “how far would you let him get, hm?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you whimper, “I’m sorry–”

“Did you like how he touched you?”

“N-no, Mr. Laufeyson, no, of course not,” you plead.

“You do not want him to touch you?” He prompts.

“No, I… didn’t know how to say—”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, lifting his chin from his hand and pressing his finger to his lips. He pulls his hand away to point at you, “I’ve a better question…” He reaches towards you and you flinch. You quiver as he traces the cutout along the top of your blouse, “how far would you let me go?”

You squirm as he hooks his finger inside the teardrop window in the fabric. His fingertip brushes you as he gives a slight tug, looming closer as he draws you towards him. He smirks as you stare dumbfounded. What is he doing?

“My brother will not touch you again,” his voice is low and rocky, “I will make sure of it.” He tickles you slightly and rescinds his hand, “and you will make sure to remember who you belong to.”

He sits back and hooks his fingers in the handle of the porcelain mug. As if on cue, the french doors open behind you and Frigga trills as she emerges, “oh, just enough tea,” she announces, “I added a dash of honey this time.”

She places the cup by her empty chair but does not sit. She twirls and paces around the patio, going to the flower boxes along the rail. She leans in to examine them.

“Perhaps the carpenter could have a look here, it’s crooked,” she declares. “And I dare say the guest room has a loose floorboard right near the bed.”

“Mm, perhaps, mother,” Laufeyson drawls as he once more raises his cup, his eyes stuck on you, “my house manager will be sure to ask, won’t she?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you wisp out through your constricted throat, barely registering his command.

You can only hear his previous words echoing, over and over; remember who you belong to. Belong to… No, you only work for him.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

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haruchuiyo · 8 months

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i love you the most

content: short fic, fluff, more fluff and even more fluff + kisses + clingy cute satoru <3

gn!reader

i miss him so much and I had this in my wip’s and it was about time i finished it for my silly man <3

—

Gojo watches you from behind his blanket, your oblivious and relaxed stance making him want to let out a mischievous giggle. He reaches his hands out from below the blanket, places his hand on your hips. You turn to look at him while placing your own hand on top of his.

“Get up, sleepyhead. You’re always sleeping.” You chuckle while softly tapping the tip of his nose. Gojo pouts as he shakes his head. “No, I wanna sleep in some more before the responsibilities kick in.” He says before pulling your entire body into his, making you squeal then covers you both with the blanket.

Gojo has you below him, hips inbetween your thighs. He burrows his face into your chest. “Now I’ve got you trapped to sleep in with me.” He says in content and sighs in delight when he feels you gently massage his head, running your fingers through his hair.

“And I’m gonna be blamed for being late to work?” You raise a brow in amusement. “Well I will take the blame.” He says nonchalantly making you giggle. “It doesn’t work like that, toru.” You say as you kiss the top of his head. Gojo rubs his face on your chest gently before looking up at you.

“Well I have loads of money, so I can use that.” He says, shrugging his shoulders, which has you slightly gasp in a playful way. “I thought your money is my money.” You pout which has Gojo grinning widely. “All of it is your money, so let’s threat them with our money.” He simply says like it’s the greatest solution. Your heart swells up in affection for this man on top of you. How sweet and kind he is, thoughtful despite his silly solutions.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You hear him say, he looks so happy and safe in your arms. And content. So are you, having satoru gojo in your arms is the best thing you could ever know and think of. And you wish to stay put this way.

“Because you look so happy, silly.” You softly say as his eyes slightly widens in surprise before he beams in happiness.

“Of course I’m happy, baby.” He presses a gentle but excited kiss on your forehead. “Yeah, I wonder why?” You grin at him and he pretends to think about the reason before kissing your chest over your t-shirt.

“Because of this.” He says and you giggle when he leans his face into the crook of your neck, rubbing his face there making you feel ticklish. You laugh as he continues to tickle you before you feel his lips on your pulse point. You grasp onto his hair gently, softly running through it, feeling his smooth white locks in your palms.

Gojo leans his head up to look at you, he reaches up a hand to softly hold your face. You lean into his touch as he smiles fondly at the sight.

“I love you, satoru.” You tell him as you pull his face closer to yours to press down few kisses on his soft lips. “So much.” You add on as Gojo grins.

“I already knew that.” He boasted as you let out a slight lighthearted groan while playfully rolling your eyes. “And I love you, baby. A lot more than you love me.” He declares as you raise a brow at him.

“Yeah really?” You ask as you softly rub his cheek with your thumb. He nods his head while he slips out a ‘mhm’ from his mouth. His eyes is so full of mischievousness, you can’t do anything but love him even more and lean in for more kisses.

“Well we should do a competition about that.” You announce as Gojo’s eyes just lightens up. He loves to compete over stuff like this. You take joy in the fact he takes joys in it.

“And I’m gonna win.” He simply says and you shake your head. “Nope, I will.” You say matter of fact, before Gojo attacks you with more kisses, making you laugh and he eats up the sound with a kiss.

“I love you more.” He expresses excitedly and honestly, you giggle when he lightly kisses the tip of your nose.

And you love him the most.

—

wish he was in my arms rn smh :(

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vinelark · 4 months

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in return for the fic recs i got last month, here are a few fics i read recently that i want to absolutely yell about from the rooftops:

Iron, Fire, Mirror-Glass by PurpleSoot: an early batman days AU where, while slowly healing from a spine-shattering injury, bruce finds an old book about the fae. in a fit of desperation he attempts a Summoning to try to heal his spine. enter: robin.

this story is fantastic—the kind of longfic with a plot so good and satisfying that finishing it leaves you on a reading high for at least a week. one of the best early days bruce fics i’ve ever read, with honorable mentions to excellent alfred and clark and jim and selina characterizations—but robin (dick) really takes the cake here. the balance of chilling, otherworldly, not-quite-human vs. playful, earnest, Still Just a Child…chef’s kiss. the way robin’s character arc drags bruce kicking and screaming through his own emotional growth is so well-paced and well-wrought that i already want to reread just so i can experience it again. this is one of those god-tier longfics that i can’t believe i got to read for free on the internet.

mid-reading testimonial:

The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne by @theskeptileptic: a tim-joins-the-family-early fic in which tim decides to do everyone (his parents) a solid by faking his own death and running away to canada, except his weirdo neighbor bruce wayne keeps butting in and messing up his plans.

this is one of the rare stories where tim doesn’t know batman’s identity yet, and even rarer stories where that somehow makes the whole thing even more compelling. this fic has two of my favorite things: small, lonely, moderately unhinged tim drake pov, and really good pangs—pangs that are expertly teased out through flashbacks that add context to the present action at exactly the right moments. also, a very fun cameo near the end. i had a blast reading this one, physically clutched my chest more than once, and am already looking forward to rereading.

mid-reading testimonial (feat. @cairoscene):

equivalent exchange by scribblemetimbers (wip): an au set during tim’s robin days in which tim discovers 1) crossroads demons are a thing and 2) people can make deals with them. deals that include bringing people back from the dead, so long as you’re willing to pay the price with your own life.

this fic is so…🤌‼️ it feels like everything i want in a fic so far, down to two incredibly specific concepts i love (bruce, in his grief, saying something harsh to robin!tim with disastrous consequences later + tim making a big secret sacrifice gambit) which are both done so so well, within a larger plot that is also done so so well. the way this fic cuts in and out of scenes at the exact right moments for max tension feels like a masterclass in causing me to tear my hair out (in the best way), and instead of assorted pangs reading it is just one big Pang. it currently leaves off on an agonizing cliffhanger but, again, in the best way. highly recommend. (thank you again @owlbats for the rec!)

exchange between me and my friend after i sent the link, which about sums it up:

and to cut this angst with some humor:

IRIS Log #1548 by @deadchannelradio: a night on patrol as recorded by the bats’ audio logs, centering around red hood getting flung into a ditch and everyone, eventually, getting home safe.

one of the top ten funniest things i’ve ever read—spiritually up there with send to all (and if you’ve seen my fic rec tag you’ll know what a compliment that is). this makes use of the audio log format SO well. the dialogue shines, the jokes land with excellent timing, and it moves at such a clip that it’s pretty much impossible to stop reading once you’ve started. every character shines in this, and i’ve randomly choked on laughter remembering the phrase ‘good god he got thrown like a corn hole beanbag’ like twenty times in the past few weeks.

mid-reading testimonial:

#every time i sit down to do a general reclist it gets so long and i get overwhelmed because i want to write an essay for each one #i had a rec thread going on twitter for a while and it was also getting so long even though i stopped months ago #i should do these monthly. there are so many fics i would love to yell from the rooftops about #anyway these rock!! happy reading!!!#batfam #fic rec

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writingquestionsanswered · 4 months

Note

Hey! How do I advertise my writing, as a beginner? I want to build a platform. :)

Building a Platform as a Beginner

If you're still at the beginning of your writing journey, I would suggest waiting to share/advertise your writing, and instead focus more on sharing content related to your writing journey. For example, you can share motivation and tips that you found helpful, you can log the work you put in ("Wrote 900 words today!") and share your triumphs ("Finished the first draft!") and struggles ("Having a rough week so no writing this week.") If you're working on a particular WIP, you can share mood boards and inspiration photos--though I would avoid sharing snippets until you've had more experience and your writing is more polished.

The keys to building a platform:

1 - Find your community. Whichever social media platform/s you choose, look around for the people who read and write what you write, and follow them.

2 - Learn proper hashtags. See what hashtags they're using with their posts and figure out which ones apply to your various posts.

3 - Post consistently but not excessively. It's pretty important to post daily if you can, maybe even a few times a day, but just don't bombard your followers with posts so that they unfollow or mute you.

4 - Post a variety of content - Try to vary what you post. Maybe every day you do one "writer's life/writer's log" type post, and then one other post such as a mood board, motivational post, or tip. As time goes on and you get more followers, see which posts do best and post more of that type of content.

5 - ENGAGE WITH OTHERS - This is the secret key that many people miss... you've got to engage with others regularly. If people like your posts, go like their posts. Comment on their posts. Support them by sharing the content they want to have shared. There are community challenges that would be fun to do, do them. Look for ways to get involved when you can.

And most of all... the even MORE IMPORTANT secret...

BE PATIENT. Seriously. This is the place where most people fail. Don't expect to have thousands or even hundreds of followers overnight, or within a few months, even. It takes months and even years to build up a following. If you can build up a few hundred followers in your first year, you're doing great.

Best wishes!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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backtotheshitshow · 4 months

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Wood & Words

Woodworker! James Potter x Princess! Reader.

Summary: Y/n was looking for the castle woodworker to make her some new thing but she might have found something else instead.

Warnings: i don’t know fluff? James has trouble reading in this one….its for the plot I promise.

Part2

James was on his way back from gathering wood from a nearby grove, his horse carrying the necessary gear to pull the massive logs back to the castle grounds.

As they trotted down the path through the fields, he looked about, taking in the scenery.

The grass around him was still damp from the last rain, but the sun was starting to warm the air to be comfortable and he enjoyed the feeling of being out and working.

He dismounted his horse as he arrived back at his wood shed, beginning to unload the logs from the cart.

There’s a small knock on the door of the shed.

“Excuse me. Um Mr Potter is it?” James hears from near by, causing him to stop what he was doing .

To his own surprise he turns to see the princess.

He quickly hid his surprise and nodded to her. He couldn't help sneaking a glance at her.

Her beauty was stunning, and just seeing her made his heart beat faster, a wave of heat running through him.

He smiled at her, his hazel eyes twinkling. He found himself staring at her, captivated by her presence.

"Yes, I'm James... Potter, your majesty." He answered her trying to not look to nervous.

He was very used to being left alone so the sudden visit was setting off his nerves a bit.

“Um how can I help you?” He asked.

“Ah yes… I’ve come to inquire about something.” She said stepping further into the wood shed towards James.

“Of course how can I be of servous?” He said wipping his hands on his pants and taking a few steps forward.

As he got closer she mentally noted that he was a lot more handsome than she thought he might be, despite the dirt that speckled his face and clothes.

“I’m aware that you often make things for the castle. Chairs and things. I was wondering if you would be able to make a few things for me?” She asked, holding her hands behind her back.

“I’ve brought a um…a list.” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her sleeves.

James looked down at the list that he was handed. As he looked at it, an awkward realization dawned on him.

The letters on the parchment swirled as they always did. As if his eyes refused to focus. An irritated look spread across his face.

“Is there something wrong Mr Potter?” She asked concerned.

He looked at her with a sheepish smile. “I’m not…I’m afraid I’m not very good with words your majesty.” He hands her back the list, avoiding her eye contact.

“Oh…” she seemed shocked by his response.

“I’m so very Mr Potter I…I did not mean to…” y/n cut herself off. “That’s alright. I was only hoping you could make me a new book stand, an easel and a stool, I doubt you need a list for that” She said a bit more confidently.

James smiled warmly as she apologised. Not being able to read wasn’t usually a problem. Most of his instructions came with pictures. And it’s not as if he couldn’t read at all, he knew basic words.

"Absolutely, Princess. I can make that for you. Do you have any specifications on what you want them to look like?”

“No. I’m sure whatever you make will suit perfectly fine.” She was quiet for a moment as she thought.

“Perhaps I can repay you for your service Mr Potter. You make the things I asked for and I can perhaps help you with your reading skills?”

James liked that she was being so kind, but the thought of anyone, let alone the princess helping him read made him feel less than adequate.

“There’s no need for that you majesty. This is my job after all, no need for repayment….” James says.

“Well I can still help either way. I’d love to get you some books perhaps.” Y/n offered with a smile.

James was getting irritated, he was trying to be nice but she kept pushing the subject. He didn’t wish to talk about his reading abilities anymore.

“Fogive me if I speak out of turn your majesty, but I don’t wish for you to teach like I am some small child. I have done perfectly fine in life so far with out it.” James says turns away putting some wood in a barrel.

Y/n felt saddened by his response. She hadn’t meant to upset him.

“I-I apologise Mr Potter I did not mean to offend you. I simply…..” she sighed, looking down.

“Very well thank you for taking on this task. I will return Friday next week. Will that be enough time?”

“Yes that should be more than enough time.” He said bluntly.

“Well thank you…um have a nice evening.” Y/n said leaving quietly.

James watched her leave. His heart was racing and his mind was racing even more, He was not sure, but he couldn't help feeling as though he’d disappointed her some how.

……

The following day y/n returned to the wood shed, knocking quietly as she had the day before.

“Mr Potter? Are you here?” She called.

James heard her voice as he was working on her book stand. He wasn't sure why she was here when they had agreed on next Friday, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't happy to see her and find out what she needed.

"Yes! I'm here! I'll be out in just a minute," he said, not wanting to keep her waiting much longer.

“No no take your time I’ve only come to drop off a small gift” y/n explained.

James walked towards her, face dirty and hair a mess, wipping his hands of sawdust with a rag.

James raised an eyebrow at the mention of a gift. He would not complain, but he could not understand why the Princess would want to give him anything, let alone a gift.

“A gift, your majesty?" he asked, still taking the time she offered him.

He was curious and, at the back of his mind, just a touch excited. It wasn't every day that a beautiful princess went out of her way to give him a gift.

“Ah yes….I know you said you didn’t want my help. I understand how you may have felt yesterday. I can see how it may be a bit of a sensitive topic for you. I found this at the markets today.” She placed a book entitled ‘Reading 101’ on his work bench.

“It’s not a childrens book. It’s more..mature then that I thought it might help.” She gave a quick smile.

James wasn’t sure what his reaction should be, he had said he didn’t want her help, but this gesture made it clear she wasn’t taking no for an answer and that oddly comforted him.

Y/n saw the unsure look on his face. “Please except it. I only wish to help.” She blurted out.

“Very well. Thank you.” James said. Moving back to his work.

“Oh…right yes. You’re welcome.” Y/n replied.

James took a glance over to her, he noticed a defeated look on her face. As she began exiting the wood shed he called out to her.

“Your majesty!”

Y/n turned around quickly.

“I mean it…thank you.” He said.

A beaming smile creeped its way onto her face. “Have a nice evening, James.” She said before disappearing.

—————

Hope you enjoy.

Feedback and suggestions are always helpful.💜

#james potter #james potter blurb #marauders #james potter imagine #James potter au #James potter x reader #James potter x y/n #marauders x y/n #marauders x reader

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suzukiblu · 5 months

Text

WIP excerpt for @my-perfect-storybook-love; the one where Kon is in the wrong Gotham, and so are a whole heck of a lot of other people.

The aid workers and Mallory’s parents come to an agreement, and they all come back for the Mallorys, who throw themselves at this reality’s version of their parents and cling to them. Their dad scoops them both up, and their mom puts her hands on the local Mallory’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” their mom says to Kon, who doesn’t really know how to answer her.

“No big,” he says. “I like kids.”

He does not, actually. He doesn’t dislike them, they’re fine; he just doesn’t love them or anything. But he definitely, definitely knows how it feels being a stranger wearing someone else’s face and brand-new to a huge and intimidating world that you don’t know jack shit about.

And he’s still a Super, wrong reality or not. Still can’t let people in need down, if there’s something he can do for them.

The Mallorys and their parents go to check in properly, and one of the aid workers spares Kon a grateful smile and starts to open her mouth to say something, and then gets interrupted by a van pulling up to the parking lot a few yards away.

That wouldn’t actually be an interruption, if not for the refugees being let out of it.

Kon never knew Jon Kent when he was ten, but he’s seen pictures. He looks nervous and afraid, unlike all the photos of him grinning on Ma and Pa’s mantel and walls and in Clark and Lois’s apartment, and unlike the determined expression in the action shots the newspapers published a few times, but he’s still unmistakeable.

And also, the kid takes one look at himand bolts right for him.

“DAD!” Jon cries, and throws himself at him and his arms around his waist with definitely Kryptonian strength. Fuck, Kon thinks as he reflexively grabs onto the kid, and curses every single idiot at Cadmus who decided he had to look exactly like Clark.

Then again, he guesses it’s better than looking like Lex, so never mind.

Apparently this Jon is not from a reality with a Conner Kent in it, though, and now he’s got to explain himself to the kid without blowing Superman’s secret identity in the middle of a fucking interdimensional refugee camp, so fuck his life.

“Sorry,” Jon mutters, flinching back. “Sorry, I know you’re not. I didn’t mean to–to call you–”

Thank fuck, Kon thinks in relief, then immediately switches into work-mode and scoops him up into his arms, stroking a hand down his back reassuringly. Okay, the kid does know him, then, he was just freaking out a bit. Kon doesn’t blame him. He is also freaking out a bit, personally.

Or more than a bit, maybe.

“You’re okay, kiddo, I’ve got you,” he promises. “Are you hurt or anything?”

Jon blinks twice, then just bursts into tears and clings to him, burying his face in his shoulder and shaking with sobs, and Kon immediately and instantly swears himself to full custody of his interdimensional . . . nephew, or whatever Jon technically is. Whatever, this kid is his kid until further notice. Who else is gonna take care of the only other Kryptonian-human hybrid in this refugee center anyway?

Nobody, because Kon is not letting anybody else do it.

#kon el #conner kent #jon kent #superfamily #superboy #wip: mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees #my-perfect-storybook-love #long post

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raffe156 · 1 year

Text

Spoils of War

Pairing: John Price x f!reader (Tank) OC

Warnings: Smut/nsfw, 18+, unprotected sex, mentions of violence, Possessive Price, Dom!Price, rough sex, age gap in my head Price is 41, fluff at the end

Summary: You make Price jealous, end of hahaha

A/N: Thanks for so many likes and reblogs on my last post! Possessive Price has got me in a hold and I really like this MC and Price dynamic, got more ideas and wips for them :) @yeyinde and @irnbru32 this one's for you two!

Please as always comments and feedback welcome

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank

3:00am

You glanced at the alarm clock on the small side table. You knew you needed to get up, but Price had you trapped under his arm you were tucked right into him. His soft snoring in your ear. You traced a scar on his forearm the hair had not quite grown back. The man was like a space heater, you could feel it coming off his bare chest. You were just in his T-shirt but you could feel yourself sweating. The Ac unit had broken days ago on the Los Vaqueros Base, you had asked Alejandro to fix it god knows how many times only for him to respond with “Maybe you shouldn’t be wearing so many layers querida” followed by Rudy apologising for his Captain.

You tried to turn yourself in the small cot so you could put your foot on the floor, but Price gripped you tighter to him.

“Not trying to do a smash and dash are you love?” - The sleep was thick in Prices voice. You turned your face back to him.

“Yeh your my 1am booty call John…I’ve got Ghost pencilled in for 3:30…” - You laughed, but you noticed the change in his body.

“Oh I'm joking John…I need to make sure Im at least back on my side of the base before everyone wakes up…can't be seen doing the walk of shame back from my Captain's room can I? knickers in my pocket…speaking of which can I have them back please…their on your desk” - You sat up on your elbows. Price looks over at his desk your black underwear draped over his desk lamp.

“No…Keeping them thanks…spoils of war and all that lot” - He mirrored your body sitting up on his elbows a smirk on his face.

“Spoils of war?…John you can't keep my knickers…I'll take your boonie hat then...I think I'd suit it” - You got up moving over to the desk to swipe your underwear and his beloved hat his top just covering your arse. Your weren’t fast enough he was up and already at the desk your underwear in his fist, he gave your arse a slap for good measure.

“Now now…got to be quicker than that love, even half asleep you can't beat me” - He was feeling cocky now. He eyed you up and down god did you look good in his T-shirts. He leant back against the desk you could see the outline of him in his boxers, fuck he was handsome. You slinked over wrapping your arms around his neck hugging your own elbows noses pressed together.

“It’s ok you keep them…ill ask Simon if I can have my lace ones back…” - you sighed leaving the whisper of a kiss on his cheek. You pulled away feeling pretty smug with yourself.

Why was he feeling like this? He knew you were joking, but the image of Ghost with his hand on you…you clawing at him while he’s buried deep in you. Him hearing the soft sobs as you cum saying his name…his tongue all over you…Price felt like his blood had turned to acid and it was boiling through his muscle into his bones.

“Have you seen my pants…cause your not keeping them as well…” - You looked over at Price, he looked like a storm cloud.

“what’s the matter? You know I'm joking don't you?” - you walked back over to him cupping his face. Your eyes were pleading with him. You and your big mouth. Price didn’t say a word instead he started kissing you, but it was all teeth, biting greedy, rough.

“Mhmmm….slow down John…”- You tried to pull away but he had you locked in his arms, he moved down to your neck, biting and sucking at it so it left marks. He wanted to mark you as his.

“John don’t, your going to leave marks and I'm not wearing a neck gaiter for the next few days in this heat…ahhh!” - he had bit your shoulder.

“Call me John one more time I dare you…I'm your Captain and I think you need reminding of that” You could feel him on your thigh he was hard, and you couldn’t lie it was making you wet.

“Yes Sir….Captain” - Your heart was racing.

“That’s better…on your knees” - He said pulling his cock out of his boxers, the tip already leaking, you did as you were told.

“Open your mouth…tongue out” Price could see you squirming on your knees. He was going to enjoy this he thought as he slapped his cock off your waiting tongue. You wrapped your mouth around him softly licking the underside of his head. You looked up at him as he slid further down your throat.

“That’s a good girl…” - His hand snaking up into your hair.Price growled as you took him as deep as you could, He was moving your head for you, he hit the back of your throat causing tears to well up in your eyes, he wiped them away with his thumb and pulled out leaving you drooling and gasping for breath but it was short lived as he thrust himself back down your throat and held you to his base your tongue flat to his balls. You tapped his thighs. Fuck the oxygen was leaving your brain, but you could feel how wet your were.

“Alright, easy now take a breath” - Price pulled your head back, saliva on your chin, he wanted to ruin you. You were trying to steady your breathing, you liked this game and wondered how far you could push your Captain. Price could see the look in your eye you were scheming, well he was going to put a stop to that.

“You have 5 seconds to get on the bed…or I'm using my belt on your arse”- He stepped away from you reaching for his pants to unloop the belt his cock bobbing against his stomach. You didn’t waste any time getting to your feet and crawling on to the bed where you waited for further instructions from your Captain.

“Good girl, 6 seconds, but i'll let you off this once…” - he slapped the belt together. It made you jump but the spring in your stomach said otherwise. Price grabbed your wrists slipping the belt over them pulling it tight. More marks you thought. He raised them above and over your head leading you to lie on your back arms reaching towards the top of the cot, tying the other end to the metal rail headboard. A nervous laugh escaped from your mouth. Price noticed you pull your knees up defensively. He cocked his eyebrow at you not a chance your were hiding now. He bullied his way between your thighs pushing your knees apart leaving your bare. He loved the sight of you spread out for him on display, loved the way you couldn’t help buck your hips up. Loved the way your squirmed under his gaze like it was burning you. He was right his gaze was searing into your skin causing your blood to rush and thunder in your ears. You were begging him with your eyes to brand your skin with his touch.

“Look at you…all laid out for me…or would you prefer Ghost between your legs looking at your wet cunt?” - He was smirking as he traced the inside of your thigh with his rough hand, his thumb grazing over you slit. You were feeling brave and wanted to see how far you could push your luck.

“Ghost would already be eating me out like it was his last meal” - Your grin bit at him you could see it in his eyes. Price knew you didn’t mean it you were trying to get a reaction out of him, but he couldn't help the image that formed in his mind.

“Oh I’m sure he would…in fact I know he would be, any of the men on this base would be I wouldn’t blame them either” - Price lowered his head , you could feel his breath on your sensitive skin an inch away from your throbbing cunt.

“I've seen the way they all look at you…wondering what you sound like when your moan, when your begging for it, how you would feel pressed against them tight and hot…” - Price swipes his tongue flat over your folds, flicking the tip off your clit. He takes a quick glance up at you you face is buried in the crook of your elbow, he can hear your panting the dry heat suffocating you. He’s toying with you but your answer got you what you wanted, you always got what you wanted with your Captain, his face buried in you his beard rough on your inner thighs. It was short lived just as you were wading in, Price removed his mouth and replaced it with the sting of his hand the pain spreading up your body.

“For fuck sake…” - You where reeling at the sudden shift in touch. Price gave you a cruel look as his fingers prodded into your cunt thick and heavy, curling up hitting you just right causing a choked moan to escape, his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing tight circles. You eyes screwed shut as he applied pressure to your abdomen.

“Fuck…John, please…” - Your pleas cut short as he corrected you with another slap to your pussy.

“What did I say about calling me John?…I'm your fucking Captain…”- Price was enjoying this and he couldn’t help feel sorry for you, but you need to be taught a lesson. He sat back resting your legs over his bare thighs he loved the dirty scowl on your face. He gives you that eye crinkling smile but it's laced with smugness and you wanted to kick it off his face. Before you get a chance to kick out Price lines himself up with your centre, rolling your clit with his tip coating himself with you, it sends sparks up your spine that crackle through your nerves. He slides his T-shirt up your body exposing your hard nipples kissing in-between them, rough, nipping kisses, he sucks a bit too hard on one of them leaving a pink hue that will bloom into a dark purple love bite by the time the sunrises.

“Please…Sir…” - Your begging his cock resting at your entrance you can feel your walls clenching around nothing and your really cant help let out a little sob the frustration getting to you.

“That’s a good girl…see your….learning” - Price rammed his cock in, not giving you the time to adjust around him like he usually does. No his rhythm is heavy and powerful each one you feel him at your cervix, you arch your back while your bitten breasts bounce with every thrust. You cant even choke out a moan, the sound of his hips connecting with your arse and thighs is obscene also his swings are causing the headboard to hit the wall, someone was going to hear you.

“Think Ghost or Soap could fuck you till you couldn’t speak love?…After the other night I bet they have wanked themselves dry at the sight of your naked wet body…but i'm telling you now i'm going to make sure they know how good you get it from me…” - he growls, slamming back into you making your eyes roll back in your head. Your caged under him his arms resting either side of yours, he wants to hear you, he needs to hear you. He starts to bite at your neck, licking it his beard scratches you face. There your on the edge he's dragging your walls with every pull of his hips, its pooling in your stomach your going to snap open. You want him to snap you open.

“OH FUCK!…” - You cum, your legs shaking around him its loud, but you don't care.

“Feels to fuckin good love, your so fucking tight, want me to fill you up…” - Price can feel your walls tightening around him pushing him into his own realise.

“YEs…Plea…Fuck me…i want your cum in me Captain!” - You sob the words out, desperate. Price is drunk on the sounds your making as he fucks you rough and hard, the sounds filling the small room, he groans loudly as he cums inside you, panting your name.

He falls to the side of you his cock still twitching inside you, he presses his forehead to your temple. You both try to catch your breath. Price reached up to unbuckle the belt from your wrists, the skin scorched from the rough fabric. He made a mental note to kiss them better later.

“So does this mean I can have my knickers back?” - Your voice is wrecked and dry as you turn your face into him.

“No and dont ask again” - He chuckled lifting his head up to kiss you softly this time. Priced wrapped his arm around you tightly. You were back in the same position as when you woke up you glanced over at the alarm clock 3:35am

“Shit i'm late to meet Ghost…” - You laughed ringed around the room. Price looked at you like your were deranged a smirk creeping at his mouth.

“Really woman? Your going to be the death of me?” - He nudged you back into him, You laughed.

“No really John…I need to get up…In 10mins everyone is going to be gearing up for the brief with Laswell and I don't want to be scurrying back to my room with the best part of you running down my leg thanks” - You tried to push your way up, but he was stronger despite being nearly half asleep again.

“John…really…let me up” - You really were struggling now. Price wasn’t budging he wanted you to stay there with him in your own little bubble, because once you left this room you both had to resume your roles, him making sure you didn’t get yourself killed, you barking back at him for doubting you.

He made another mental note to ask you when this was all over out on a date, dinner and drinks, but for now he was happy like this in your little bubble.

“shhhh shhh…love just give me 5 more minutes” - He felt the lull of sleep pulling at him, his mind showing him the life you both could have together, he could hear you laughing, sing song voice as you danced around the kitchen belly round with his baby glowing and beautiful, two more running at him hands open and sticky. He wanted that and he was going to do everything he could to get it.

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jimblejamblewritings · 1 year

Text

the fake date plot | part 1.

Summary: Gryffindors, seventh years, classmates, unrequited love. Just a few things Y/N and James Potter had in common. When a brilliantly dumb plan is hatched the two end up getting something a little different than what they wanted.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The James girlies have led me down a rabbit hole and some of the cutest stories are in the James tag. So before you read this, please read: If I Kiss You, I'm Sorry by @astonishment which is what inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: literally none that I can think of this is supposed to be just good fluffy fun

Pairing: James Potter x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N II: I literally use whatever gif comes up when I type in 'James Potter' but imagine your own fancasts and I might switch up every now and then

Series Masterlist

“Prongs, there’s some owl at the window,” Remus said as he exited the kitchen.

James lifted his head, trying not to disturb Peter who was using his chest as a headboard while he tried to solve the Rubik’s Cube Remus had bought him for his birthday. It was summer and naturally, as someone going into his last year of school when break ended, James threw a party at his house.

His parents were going to be on business trips most of the summer. The party was a major success. Only the marauders, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary were still there. They had all planned on staying, already having their trunks there. School was in two days.

James hopped up from where he was on the floor, cleaning the smudge of his glasses. “Oh, that must be Elton.”

“Elton?” Peter asked.

“Y/N’s bird. She really likes Elton John’s music. He’s some muggle singer. Moony knows, the Crocodile Rock dude.”

James left the rest of his friends in the living room to ask how he even knew you while he got your letter. He dug around the fridge to give Elton two blackberries as a thank you. James opened your letter in the kitchen before going back to his friends, in case your letter had confidential information in it.

He hid the smirk on his face behind the letter when he saw his friends’ expressions. They totally bought it and they would buy it even more when he saw you on the Hogwarts Express in two days. You and James came up with the best fake date plot known to man last school year:

It was the Yule Ball. Hogwarts kept the name even though you didn’t have Triwizard Tournaments every year. The students like that. It was always fun to go to a ball. It was also nerve wracking. Everyone was trying to get a date or they’d risk being talked about for a century. James was failing at asking Lily out and you were failing at avoiding a few boys that wanted to ask you out. None of them were the guy you wanted to ask you out.

Even when you got to the ball, boys were still trying to ask you to dance. You grabbed a cup of punch and excused yourself. You walked further away from the Great Hall and to a small corridor. A dark figure made you stop for a moment before continuing on your path. A sniffle made you stop completely.

“Are you okay?”

James jumped. Wiping at his eyes, he looked over at you. James stuttered through lies before giving up and turning the other way to lean his back against the windowsill. He took a sip of the drink he had in his hand and looked over at you.

“She can't even spare a dance with me. I thought everything was going well this year.”

You gave a dry laugh. “I totally know the feeling.”

James raised an eyebrow. He patted the space next to him and went to join him at the windowsill. The two of you clinked glasses and downed the rest of your drinks. James disappeared the cups.

“So which bloke did you want to dance with?”

“Oh, I don’t really think that’s important.”

“Nope, Y/N. It is totally important. I’ve poured my heart out to you, it’s just not right to be the only one.”

“Fine. Xenophilius… Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing. Him? Really?”

“I know he’s snogged a lot of people but h—”

“Love, he’s shagged nearly all of Ravenclaw. The only long term relationship he’s ever been in was Pandora.”

“But they lasted all of fifth year plus the Ministry added eighth year so there’s still time to see him a lot.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me about eighth year.”

The Ministry was very concerned with the amount of Hogwarts graduates getting married and having children right after leaving school. Especially when a good chunk of them died either fighting for Voldemort or against Voldemort. Adding an extra school year was a way to try and quell that phenomenon. As someone so close to graduating, you hated it at first. It became only a minor annoyance when you realized the Ministry probably wouldn’t be changing their minds until Voldemort was defeated.

James shrugged his shoulders. “So what’s your plan exactly? Pine after Xeno all of next year and then when eighth year comes around hope he stops hooking up in Gryffindor locker rooms long enough to realize you’re perfect for him?”

“He hooks up in Gryffindor locker rooms?” you asked with slightly widened eyes.

“Unfortunately. Our rooms are closest to the pitch, easier to sneak in and out during games.”

“Do you really think I’m perfect for him?”

“Y/N,” James said with a roll of his eyes. “I haven’t sat next to you in Potions every class since first year to not know that if Xeno took just a week off from trying to fuck everything with a pulse he’d know you are one of the nicest and cutest girls he’s ever going to get. You’re wicked smart too which is up his alley… I still don’t understand how he still gets the grades he does.”

“Thanks, James. For what it’s worth, I think Lily is missing out on a very observant and handsome and sweet guy even if your pranks go a little too far sometimes.”

“Well, we only save those for people that like to pick on those smaller than them.”

“I know.”

“Do you feel like going back to the ball? Because I don’t.”

“Not really.”

James held out his arm. “Shall we make our way to Gryffindor, my lady.”

“We shall, good sir.”

You and James skipped through the halls until you made it back to Gryffindor tower. You ended up following him up to his dorm which you had never seen before. Despite being assigned class partners since you two were eleven, you weren’t exactly friends with James Potter. Just acquaintances was what you were.

The marauders’ dorm was nice. The first thing you noticed was the fact that they reconfigured their beds. Almost every bed was laying horizontal and flush against the wall, like a bed turned couch. And the wardrobes were also flush against the wall either at the head or foot of the beds, whichever allowed all the beds to see each other. You’d have to proposition your roommates about doing that. It made the space so much wider and seemed to give everyone a personal area.

James led you to his bed area with a blue rug in front of it. You took off your shoes and set them neatly next to his, noting how he was very organized about his shoes being lined up underneath the bed. James moved to the wardrobe at the foot of his bed. His hand dug through the shelves for his pajamas.

“Do you want something to change into?”

You took some of his clothes with a thanks and went into the bathroom to wash and get changed. You and James were going to open the firewhiskey in Sirius’ trunk and vent to each other while getting progressively drunker. James started to make himself a little cot on the floor while you took a shower. Something told him that you two would probably stay up late and potentially fall asleep. He already decided that you were getting the bed.

You laid down on the bed and ate some fizzing whizbees while waiting for James to finish showering. You shot up when James practically broke his own door. His hair was still wet and his clothes looked very disheveled on him.

“I have a plan so dumb it might work on luck alone,” he said as he shook your shoulders.

“I’m listening.”

“Go out with me.”

You laughed. “James, are you already drunk?”

“Just a bit tipsy. But listen to me. You want Xenophilius, I want Lily but neither of them seem to really notice us. So let’s make them notice.”

“You want to make them jealous?”

“Well, I don’t know if they’ll be jealous but I want to make them feel something. Don’t you think they would at least be curious about why we suddenly stopped pinning over them? They’d at least talk to us more, I just know it.”

“Okay, one problem. You scream through the corridors about how much you love Lily. I think only my friends know that I like him and one of those friends is Lily.”

“You two are friends?”

“Well, we’re roommates, one of the few Gryffindor dorms with five girls. I’m really just friends with Dorcas and Alice when she’s not holed up in Hufflepuff.”

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re gonna have to do something embarrassing.”

And that was how you found yourself waiting outside Ravenclaw’s locker room before the big quidditch match on the last day of first semester. If anyone talks, it’s going to be quidditch players. They chuckled a bit while you waited for Xenophilius to come outside, some even going back in to tell him that you were there.

He finally left the dressing room after what seemed like forever and stood right in front of you. Reluctantly, you gave him a small gift and wished him luck before scurrying to find your roommates in the stands. You didn’t think it would take very long for the gossip to spread. What you didn’t expect was for you to get the label of a lovesick puppy. That was worse than what they called James. You told him such over winter break.

The two of you were at his house for the entirety of the break, teaching each other all about yourselves and finishing the plot. You two wouldn’t start fake-dating until the start of seventh year, on the Hogwarts Express to be exact… with James doing a big gesture that was entirely his idea. He was super invested in making it believable. If it wasn’t believable then there was no point.

James handed over your letter to Peter who was still next to him. “Y/N says hi and she’s sorry she couldn’t make it to the party.”

“Since when were you talking to our roommate?” Marlene asked.

“Since I’ve sat next to her everyday in Potions and Transfiguration since we were first years.”

“You’ve been assigned that long?”

“Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Minnie and Slughorn never switched us. I should probably write something back to her.”

The only thing in James’ letter was that he thinks the plan might work. Everyone perked up at the notion of you two being secret friends so maybe fake-dating would work after all. You threw the letter into your trunk and headed to Platform 9 and ¾. You went to find Alice who would hopefully be alone or with her other Hufflepuff friends.

That was what James wanted anyway. He came in about halfway through the train ride when you were in the middle of talking with your friends. James sheepishly held up a sweater and tapped on the window. Alice nodded for him to come in. The girl was shocked when he immediately turned to you.

“Bug?”

“Yes, Prongs?”

“Do you remember last year when you said you sew? Do you think you can mend this?”

“It’s not even autumn yet. Why do you need the jumper now?”

“I just thought I’d forget unless I said it right at this moment.”

You rolled your eyes but looked for a sewing kit in your trunk. Setting it on the bench, you grabbed the sweater and gently pushed him out of the room.

“Why am I friends with you?”

“Because you love me.”

“Goodbye, James Potter.”

“Bye, Bug. Thank you.”

You sat back down and dug through your sewing kit before muttering that you didn’t have navy blue thread and would try to find some. You had already known that you didn’t have the correct color thread. But a certain Ravenclaw probably did. Your hand shook a bit as you closed the door to your compartment:

“What are Xeno’s hobbies?” James asked when you two took a break to hang out at the pool in his backyard when you arrived early in the summer.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s a load of bull. I know Lily’s favorite gemstone is carnelian because it matches her hair. So what’s one of the man's hobbies?”

“He likes to sew.”

“Oh this is brilliant.”

You knocked on the door of the train compartment that Xenophilius, his friends, and the new girl he was with for the start of school. He and his friends smiled at seeing you and let you in. You held up the sweater.

“Do any of you have navy blue thread? I’m trying to mend a jumper.”

Xeno summoned the spool of thread from out of his trunk. He held it up in his hand until you came in to receive it. His hold lingered on yours.

“You like to sew?”

You shrugged. “It’s more of a hobby. I’ve only ever done stuff for myself until now.”

“Is that for your mum? My first gift to someone else was for my parents.”

“No, James Potter. The idiot can’t mend a simple hole in a sweater. Thank you for the thread, I’ll return it before dinner.”

You smiled a little as you walked back to your compartment. Xenophilius’ smile had twitched a bit when you mentioned James’ name. Maybe his plan might work. Your friends had clearly been gossiping about you when you were gone. There was no doubt that the Ravenclaws were gossiping about you when you left. And because James insisted that you give him his sweater once everyone got into the Great Hall, you were sure other people were bound to gossip.

James ignored the other marauders when they got back to their dorms. He’d tell his friends the truth eventually but it was necessary they also believe the lie for at least a month or two. You and him were supposed to be close friends for the first month. If Lily or Xenophilius didn’t make a move from that alone then you would start fake-dating. It was a foolproof idea really.

(part 2)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @i-have-no-life-charlie

#james potter x reader #james potter x black!reader #hogwarts #james potter x reader fic #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #marauders imagines #marauders fic #marauders era #james potter fluff #marauders fluff

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trensu · 8 months

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have another snippet of stasis in darkness! just 'cuz i'm bored tbh, and kinda stuck on all my wips i'm currently working on.

The seventh night:

“Has he spoken to you yet?”

“How could he when you’re here yammering my ear off every night?”

“He’s a god, I’m sure it wouldn’t be that hard for him to shut me up.”

“Even gods have their limits.”

“Oh, har har. The warrior’s got jokes. You didn’t answer my question.”

“...not yet,” Steve said stiffly.

“It’s been how long now? A week?” The man hummed in a falsely thoughtful manner. “Maybe he’s just not that into you, man. Maybe he’s letting you down easy.”

At his words, Steve involuntarily curled his shoulders inward, slightly, ever so slightly, in defense. He'd been wondering that same thing earlier that day. Steve had toiled hours in the sun to fix up the shrine; to make it welcoming; to encourage a divine visit.

He had stopped wearing his armor to free up more time to work. Putting it on and taking it off took too long, and he didn't have to maintain it as much if he wasn't wearing it regularly. He stuck to only his chainmail. He'd kept his shield stored away, too, so it wouldn't get in the way while he worked. Though, he made sure to keep his sword nearby.

He’d taken his knife and traced over the etchings of stars in the alcove that served as a backdrop to the statue. His knife had been ruined but it didn't matter. The Lord of Night would probably want the stars of his dark sky with him, he reasoned, and these had worn so thin. Sadly, it was the only detail he could bring out of all the stone. The statue’s face was so crumbled that Steve couldn’t even begin to guess what it had originally looked like.

He had discovered that the vines he chose to keep were moonflowers. They had blossomed every night since he’d removed the other more invasive plants. He'd draped them carefully so they lay across the statue's shoulders, wrapped lovingly around its torso and clung to its waist before the ends of the vines trailed off at the knees.

The strange man might have made himself a nuisance during his visits but he never stayed the whole night. Steve had been able to get a few hours of makeshift prayers at the shrine every night. He’d done all this, yet dawn broke every day without a single sign that the Lord of Night had been listening.

“Warrior?”

Steve broke out of his reverie. He refused to look at the man. He had to clear his throat roughly before he could speak.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been rejected by someone I love." Steve tried not to dwell on his father's perpetual scowl and his mother's infinite disinterest. "I’m pretty used to my devotion being one sided by now.”

“That’s a bummer,” the man said. His sympathy was meant to be teasing, Steve could tell, but it came out surprisingly sincere. “Good thing you have a whole pantheon! Strong guy like you? Any god would take you to be their warrior in a heartbeat.”

“What are you talking about? No, I’m nowhere near done with his shrine,” Steve said determinedly. “I know a silversmith and a stone mason who’d give me a hand, and Dustin and Robin have been dying to come up here to bring him offerings. The only reason they didn’t come with me is because I had to do the pilgrimage on my own if I wanted a shot at earning his blessing.”

The man spluttered.

“Are you insane? A god rejects you and you’d come back? What kind of stupid–were you dropped on your head as a child?

“A couple times, but that doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Are you sure? Have you checked? You should go to one of the gods of medicine. Owens, maybe. Have him take a look at your head,” the man huffed in frustration. "For stars' sake, why would you want to come back?"

He ignored the insult to his intelligence. For stars' sake. Steve murmured the words to himself, letting them settle in his mouth to get a feel for them. He'd never heard of that one before. He liked how it rolled off the tongue, natural as anything.

The man waited for his response. Steve took a moment to try to sort out his words. He kept his head bowed towards the shrine as he ruminated.

“People barely remember my god,” Steve finally said. “And when they do, they remember him as something he’s not. Even if he doesn’t believe I’m worthy of carrying his crest, he shouldn't be forgotten.”

The man said nothing. Steve took a shuddering breath before the quiet could take over.

“Having someone forget you is…it’s very lonely. Which is the worst feeling. I…I guess I don’t want him to be lonely anymore.”

The silence that followed his statement stretched long enough that Steve started falling into that meditative state he’d learned during his many nights at the shrine. It helped dull the twisted up, unsteady sensation that lingered from the man’s prodding at his every self-doubt and fear.

“He hasn’t rejected you yet, though,” the man broke Steve's musings awkwardly.

“He hasn’t reached out to me either. It’s fine. I’ll keep coming either way.”

Another silence. It was around the time the man usually left Steve to his worship. He didn't hear retreating footsteps. Instead, the man cleared his throat, and when Steve looked up at him, the man turned his face away, shrouding it in gloom.

“Maybe he’s nervous. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t contacted you yet.”

“Nervous? No way.”

“He sounds like a godly weirdo,” the man said. “Maybe he’s never had a holy warrior before and doesn’t know what to do.”

“He’s the good kind of weirdo! And there’s no way he’s not had a warrior carry his symbol. He must’ve had loads back in the day. I probably don’t meet his standards,” Steve smiled lopsidedly, playing off his insecurity.

“I’m serious!” the man exclaimed. “It’s possible! Some gods never get warriors. Some never want them at all!

“Look, even if I was the first to offer to be his, he’d know he didn’t have to be nervous,” Steve insisted. "I’ve never served a god before either! I wasn’t sure I could have faith at all until I learned about him. So like, if he’s new to it then so am I, and we’d figure it out together.”

“...you really mean that, don’t you? You’d let him make it up on the fly if he took you on.”

“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugged.

“You’d keep coming back even if he rejected you?”

“Yep.”

“But why? That’s so stupid. Nobody would do that!” The man sounded frustrated.

“I’m not really known for my smarts,” Steve said matter-of-factly. “Robin and Dustin had to translate the only book we found about the Lord of Night because I definitely wouldn't have been able to. It was a tiny book but it still took them ages to do because the language doesn’t really exist anymore. So they told me it’s possible it’s not accurate. It felt true, though, to me.

“There was this quote, I can’t recite it word for word, but…it was something about how monsters don’t always look monstrous, and the monstrous aren’t always things to be feared.”

“That sounds ridiculous,” the man protested. Steve shook his head.

“No, it’s true! Like, I know I’ve got a pretty face and really great hair,” he smirked when he heard the man scoff, “but I was such a fucking asshole when I was younger. I went around hurting people on purpose, tearing them down for no reason other than I was hurting too, and that’s the shittiest reason to hurt anyone. I had to get some sense knocked into me by the people I call friends now.

“My friends are the greatest people I know, and I��m really lucky to have them, but to everyone else? My friends are losers. They’re rejects because they don’t act right or they don’t look right; they talk too much or too loudly. People treat them like shit because they're different.

“And after I noticed that, I started seeing it more even if I don’t always pick up on it. And I still mess up sometimes. I'm not a god, I can't change the world but…in the stories Robin and Dustin translated, the Lord of Night helped people like my friends because it was always the weak and rejected that try to hide themselves in the dark. I want to help those people find him again so they know they’ve got someone holy in their corner. They should know someone loves them enough to protect them.”

Steve didn’t really know where all those words came from; he wasn’t a wordsmith like Robin and Dustin. He always had a hard time verbalizing his thoughts, and he usually messed up the words. Nonetheless, these words had almost burned to be said.

When the speech that flowed from him finally reached a natural end, he felt…lighter, cleaner. He felt like his shield and sword when they were polished to a shine. But when he turned to see his audience’s reaction, the man had gone. Steve felt strangely dejected instead.

–

The eighth night:

“Hey, it’s me again. My supplies are low and I don’t know what your thoughts about hunting on your land are so I’d rather not…I don’t want you to think I’m disrespecting you. I might have to leave soon to get more supplies,” Steve swallowed nervously. “Which isn’t an ult..ultimate…? No, damn, what is it called? I’m not trying to force you to talk to me before then, is what I mean. Not–not that I could! With you being a god.”

Steve scoffed at his own blundering. He should’ve had Robin help him make speech notes. Cards with conversation starters. Something! He took a deep breath and tried again.

"But I'm coming back, I promise. I meant what I said about fixing up your shrine. I’ll commission a new plaque and I’ll talk to the stonemason about replacing your plinth. I don’t know a lot about sculpture, but I’ll get you the strongest type of stone and get something nice carved on it. Your flowers? Or cats? Cats are cute. Maybe your bats would be better…?” Steve trailed off.

It was quiet save for the faint rustle of leaves in the cool breeze. The full moon illuminated the area more than ever before. The shrine must have really been a beautiful sight back in its heyday. The thought of it sent a pang of longing through his soul.

The hour came that the strange man usually showed up. Steve steeled himself for another round of questions, another jab at his faith. The hour went by with Steve alone in the clearing. Steve frowned.

“Do you think he’s okay?”

Steve’s question went unanswered.

After another hour without seeing his stranger, Steve had finally convinced himself to round the perimeter for a quick check in case the man was nearby or in need of assistance. When he found nothing, he checked again in case he missed something.

Still nothing. Uneasily, Steve gave up his search and returned to the shrine. He knelt before it again, head bowed. He cleared his throat.

“Lord of Night, I don’t know his name, and I know he’s been rude–annoying–but could you please watch over the man? Please keep him safe from harm for as long as the stars shine tonight. Thank you.”

He received no response, but Steve had faith. He knew he was heard. He knew his god wouldn’t let an innocent come to harm if he could prevent it.

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you’d like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

#trensu tells stories #stasis in darkness #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #i'm hopping around between working on this fic and a couple of different fics for the hawkins halfway house au #whenever i feel uninspired by one i jump to the other #i've also dabbled a little with additions to the chrissy the vampire slayer au i threw together real quick a while back #someone please tell me how to keep focused long enough to finish one wip rather than juggling like five of them at a time #anyway #i actually have more of this one written out but this part of it is the only one that i'm pretty sure i won't go back and change around #whereas the rest of it is still getting rearranged over and over lol

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gulliblelemon · 7 months

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Young Royals Fic Recommendations 2

I have been reading even more fan fiction recently so I thought I'd do another (even longer) favourites list. My first one is here if you're interested! Some are newer fics, but some are also from a while ago that I've only just got round to reading (I have a bit of a chaotic system - sorry!)

(I’ve included tumblr usernames if I know them, someone let me know if I’ve missed any and I'll add them in).

obviously by grapehyasynth @grapehyasynth 124k words. Complete. Rating: M Normal People AU. Wille and Simon meet at school and start a secret relationship. The story follows their lives as they change and grow and meet again.

The road not taken looks real good now by stretchoutandwait @stretchoutfics 90k words. Complete. Rating: E Twenty two years after season 1, King Wilhelm has a wife and three kids and doesn't expect to see Simon again - until he does. (Honourable mention to Ex by the same author).

Protected by bastuba 44k words. Complete. Rated: M Wille has moved to New York for Uni. Simon is assigned as his new bodyguard. (The story has been expanded in one shots, my favourite of which is Interview).

Fuck The Monarchy by itsme_hi_imtheproblem @iwouldnevergetintofanfic 68k words. Complete. Rating: E Simon and Wille meet when they both intern at the Riksdag. (Honourable mention to I love the way you lie by the same author).

Almost Is Never Enough by this_time_its_just_me @in-amor-veritas 138k words. WIP. Rating: E Non-royal AU. Simon meets Wille again years after school when he starts a job at Wille's place of work. (Honourable mention to We Left Footprints When We Passed By by the same author).

you can stay by origamifrogs @princewillesothermom 23k words. Complete. Rating: E. Non-royal AU. Wille and Simon shared a childhood treehouse. Snapshots of their lives together.

No Tomorrow by p_brown @p-brown-writes 31k words. Complete. Rating: M Wille loses his memory of his and Simon's break up. Simon is called to help him remember the last few years.

Can We Just Pretend? by scissorsandstone 9k words. Complete. Rating: E Simon POV for the curtains scene in S2E5 (Simon is more conflicted than in canon).

Better With You by Spidaya @simons-purplehoodie 52k words. Complete. Rating: M Non-royal AU. Simon works as Wille's assistant at a music production company.

You Are Unbreaking by unfortunate17 @unfortunate17 38k words. Complete. Rating: E Medieval AU where Simon marries Wille in the hope of assassinating him. (Honourable mention to Stairway To Heaven by the same author)

Ace Of Hearts by Whiterabbit11 14k words. Complete. Rating: G Outsider POV vignettes of Wilmon through their Hillerska years.

perhaps more by willesworld @willesworld 28k words. Complete. Rating: T Non-royal AU. Wilhelm and Simon meet at an intensive summer program for aspiring writers.

i will, tonight by witchjeons @pleuvian 27k words. Complete. Rating: E Simon and Wilhelm meet in an antique store.

like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky 1.5k words. Complete. Rating: G Young Simon is infatuated with Young Prince Wilhelm on the TV. (Also has a lovely sequel).

finding home by Elin98 @ishotforthestars 19k words. WIP. Rating: G Prince Wilhelm disappears. Simon is trying to get on with his life.

I would drive on (to the end with you) by ceramicclown (@glassdollls) 90k words. WIP 11/15 chapters. Not rated. Non-royal AU. Simon and Wille meet at Hillerska, Simon offers to drive Wilhelm when his car breaks. They strike a deal to pretend to date.

#yr fic rec #young royals fic rec #yr fanfic #young royals fanfic #yr fanfiction #young royals fanfiction #young royals #young royals fanfic rec #lemon recommends

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dandelionprints · 1 year

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More Than Enough

(Tommy Shelby One Shot)

As some of you will know if you’ve seen any of my posts, I’ve not had any motivation to write and have really felt my inspiration dwindling on a daily basis. I had a little bit of that motivation come back to me this evening so I thought I’d use it to write this short one shot. It was quite hard to write as I feel like my self belief is at a low right now so I was questioning myself a lot when writing it but fuck it, I’ve finally completed a WIP after weeks of not writing, I hope you enjoy!

Day had slowly turned into night in what had felt like only a matter of minutes in your bedroom, the only light now coming from the fireplace and a lamp that was lit on your desk. The comfort of the fire warmed you as the air grew cold.

Piles of invitations were laid upon the wooden surface with various addresses to the wealthiest people within England and Scotland. This charity ball had better get you a lot of fucking money after all the time you’d put into it, not to mention the cramp that was now very apparent in your fingers.

“Come to bed love, it’s getting late”, Tommy whispered against your shoulder before moving the strap of your nightie to the side and gently laying a kiss on your bare skin.

“I will my love, I’ve just got a few…”, you began, getting cut off swiftly by an exasperated sigh from your husband that caught you off guard.

“Y/N, you’ve been at this for hours, you need to get some rest. I would also like to spend some time with my wife. Please, come to bed”

You turned to look at him standing there in just his boxer shorts, a look of pleading in his expression. Those eyes of blue almost boring right through you, making you melt like they had the first day you’d made contact with them.

You sighed feeling guilty, “I know, Tom. But if I don’t do it then who the fuck will? They’re meant to be delivered to everyone tomorrow and I feel like if they’re not perfect then I’ll be judged even more than I already am”

A wave of insecurity swept over you unexpectedly. Fuck you hated that feeling, never feeling like the life you’d married into was something you deserved. The money, the big house, the handsome gangster husband. None of it.

“Who do you think is judging you, the people invited?”, his eyebrow raised as he took a step toward you, kneeling at your side, “don’t take any notice of what they say, they’re all twats in expensive suits”

You nodded your head and averted his gaze, instead choosing to pick a spot on the floor to focus on.

“I know what they say, Tom. ‘What’s a girl like that doing with a man like him? A former peasant girl who used to have to beg for scraps on the street? She’s probably only with him for the money! Oh, and the maids too, they do everything for her’”

“Who have you heard say that? You tell me and I’ll send Arthur round to have a chat with them, no one talks about my wife like that!”

He stood with his fists balled at his sides, his knuckles white from the tension. Grabbing his arm you pulled yourself up and squeezed him gently, his muscles tight under your grip.

“No! Please don’t, it’s not a big deal”, you used your free hand to bring his face towards yours, “All I’m saying is I’m well aware that they don’t think highly of me. I just want to show them I’m no longer that peasant girl who had to beg for food and money, that I’m capable of organising a charity event and doing as much for it on my own as I can without the help of staff or other influences. I want them to know I work hard, Tom”

He hadn’t taken his eyes off you the whole time you’d been speaking, too fixated on every word you were saying. He brought his hands up to either side of your face and cupped your cheeks.

“You work harder than any of those fuckers that are invited, the only reason they’re on the guest list is cause they have money, and lots of it. They don’t have a clue what shit you went through to end up on the streets or how we met, which if I remember rightly wasn’t when you were still having to sleep in the gutters. They don’t know fuck all about anything, none of them do”, he said, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

Bringing your hands up you held onto either one of his wrists, your thumb on the back of his hand.

“I know love, I just want to show I’m enough. Enough to be deserving of this life we’ve built. Enough to be with you when there are so many other beautiful women out there who would drop their knickers for you with just a snap of your fingers”

He chuckled then before his expression turned soft, moving his face closer to yours, hands still cupping your cheeks.

“Darling, you’re more than enough. You always have been”

His lips connected with yours in a soft swoop, holding themselves there for a while before curving up into a smile.

You smiled back feeling a rush of warmth in your chest, the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach making themselves known.

“Now c’mon, bed”

This time you didn’t have a choice in the matter as he swiftly swept you up into his arms and carried you towards the bed. You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, the signature smell of whiskey and cigarettes moving to your nose.

Placing you down onto the bed he knelt over you and kissed you again, this time with more passion.

“I think it’s time I show you just how wrong those people are, how it’s really me who is unworthy to be with you, Mrs. Shelby”

The firelight continued to flicker, casting shadows around the room, the plans of finishing the invitations now well and truly gone.

Right here in this very moment, in your big expensive house, on the expensive Egyptian cotton bedding beneath you on your expensive four poster bed, the only thing that mattered was that the love of your life truly believed that you had always been enough, no matter what.

————

Tagged: @peakypoet @moral-terpitude @lyarr24 @cillmequick @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @alasya16 @tommystargirl @elenavampire21 @adaydreamaway08 @slaypussypop-21 (unable to tag) @bluesongbird @zablife @cljordan-imperium @look-at-the-soul @rangerelik

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders #cillian murphy

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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Blind Offer 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that's too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, additional characters to come

Note: Loooooook. I was gonna restrain myself but this all just got outta hand. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won't reveal which one right away because it'll be part of the plot!

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You keep your slippers just away from the edge of the puddle. The sheet of water extends almost completely across the kitchen. You hug yourself, still slightly groggy from your early and rude awakening. The washing you put in last night hadn’t finished and instead the sudsy mess had leaked out around the door.

There’s a sigh and a clank as your landlord pulls his arm out of the machine. Your sopping laundry is in a bucket by his feet. His shirt is visibly wet from his struggle to stem the steady flow dripping from the brim of the washer door. You worry you may have overloaded the compact stacking unit.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you say as you sway guiltily.

“Don’t be,” he puts his hands on his hips and blows out. A golden strand dangles down his forehead, “it’s not you. My own fault. I thought these things might hold out for a while…”

“Oh?”

“Not the first time I’ve had to fight the beast but it worked. I should be sorry, I should’ve just replaced it.”

“Well, uh, what are you gonna do now?” You look at the wet tile, the scent of laundry detergent thick in the air as the water creeps closer to your slippers.

“Uh, yeah, well, obviously you can’t stay here.”

“I can’t?” You raise your head, running your hand up the front of your robe and clutching the fluffy fabric.

“No, bylaws say you need to evacuate until I can get a new unit in here. And clean up. Leak like this can leave mildew and mold,” he combs his large hand over his head, “I feel bad enough, I couldn’t let you live in this.”

“Okay… um, I have to work in a couple hours–”

“Oh, geez. Well, er, maybe just pack up a few things and I can take you over to the new place? You can always come back to grab more if you need.”

“I guess…” you chew your lip. His blue eyes fixate on the gesture so you stop. “How far is it?”

“Not very, about twenty minutes east by car.”

“East?” You utter dully, “that’s a bit far. I work up near the metro area.”

“There’s some bus stops that way but I could give you a lift tod–” There’s a sudden gush and he looks back to the machine, a bubble of water flowing up over the brim. He shuts the door, stemming much of it. “You won’t even be able to cook in here,” he says, “look, bylaws say I have to relocate you. I have a property free which means I don’t have to splurge for a hotel. If you prefer somewhere closer, then it’s on you.”

You frown. He’s not the worst landlord you’ve had but he definitely talks like one. He’s only really worried about his liability. Yet, most others wouldn’t have even brought up that clause and left you to wallow in this puddle of dirty laundry water. You shrug, hopefully the other place isn’t too bad.

“Right, uh, I guess I’ll go get dressed,” you relent.

“Great,” he says with blatant exasperation, turning back to face the trembling washer, his voice deflating to a hoarse rasp, “goddamn.”

You hesitate as you stare at his back. The gray fabric of his jersey henley strains across his shoulder blades as the back of his forearms clench, veins pulsing out. He rolls his head on his neck and heaves out again.

You turn on your foot and slowly pad out of the kitchen. You hear his sole squeak subtly but refuse to glance back again. You can’t help but feel that it’s all your fault. You’re sure he’s too nice to say so. Or too distracted by the chaos you’ve caused.

🖤

The new apartment isn’t an apartment at all. It’s a walkup townhouse with a sleek black and white exterior. The neighbourhood is far out of your range but you won’t complain. You suspect Steve is already aware of the deferential.

“Wow, this place is really nice,” you say as he holds the door for you. You step inside and take in the space; a narrow staircase to the next floor, black frames around grayscale photography, and minimalist decor in the form of a standing geometric floor vase and a coat rack with bent arms.

You stop to take your shoes off on the mat as Steve squeezes in behind you and shuts the door. You trip away from him, surprised by the friction of his body against yours. You’ve always been overly aware of yourself and how much room you take up. Your size makes it hard to not feel crowded, still the close brush rattles you.

He swirls the keys around a finger and stills them in his fist. He looks around emphatically and waves a hand.

“Well, this is it. It’s my only vacant property at the moment, so, it’ll have to do. Fully furnished, at least.”

“It’s great,” you assure him as you step further in, your duffel hanging heavy from one arm, “wow, it’s…”

“A lot bigger than your place. Yeah. New development. Invested at ground floor. You’ll be the first tenant, at least for the time being.”

“Ah, right,” you go to the narrow bench of black acrylic and place your bag atop it. “I’ll try not to mess it up.”

“Didn’t mean it like that.”

“Uh, yeah, but obviously it’s above my paygrade,” you scoff, “I appreciate it and sorry again.”

“Don’t worry about it. Really. Dropping a couple hundred on a new washer woulda saved us both trouble. I only got one person to blame,” he holds out his hand, “you don’t need a tour, do ya?” He offers the keys and you step up to take them, “I’ll be back around noon to get you to work but I got running around to do.”

“Um, I should be able to figure it out–”

“Oh, wait,” he puts a finger up, “the door code. Just in case. Also, you’ll wanna override the security system when you get in.” He turns and points to the sleek black box mounted beside the door, “I got it on my phone but you’ll just need to pop it open and put in the number.” He slides out his phone, “I’ll just text it before I forget.”

“Right,” you nod as you clutch the keys tight, “got it. I think I can manage.”

“Anyway, you got my number, you need anything, you know how to reach me,” he checks his watch, “noon,” he repeats as he points at you, “I’ll be back.”

He spins and opens the door, swiftly stepping through before swinging it shut behind him. You’re left slightly stunned and don’t move right away. You cross the floor and twist the latch of the door, a cautious habit likely unnecessary in this neighbourhood.

You turn back to your new abode and let your eyes rove. Wow. All this just for you. You wonder how much one of these places go for. Your monthly pay probably wouldn’t even cover a single week.

You shuffle forward, uncertain, expecting for Steve to come back through and tell you it’s all a mistake.

You peer around at the immaculate decor. Each piece is perfectly set and carefully curated. The long leather sectional and the matching square backed armchairs before the artificial fireplace in the wall. A low coffee table on a rug patterned in black and white, a touch of red in the throw pillows and the curtains.

Then the kitchen, white, pure marble, and pale silver appliances. The tile is marked by subtle dove grey diamonds, and a table sits against the wall with two chairs. You go back into the hallway and down towards the front of the stairs. You peek up at the top as you pass the small half-bath embedded on the other side.

Upstairs, you find two bedrooms, a full bath, and what appears to be a study, along with several spacious closets. It’s truly a dream. Who knew a broken washer could get you a stay in heaven.

Well, you should get settled in. Enjoy it while it lasts.

🖤

As promised, Steve shows up just before noon. You have your uniform on but feel less than ready to go. The abrupt awakening, the displacement, and the typical dread of the overcrowded box store. Your job is less than glamorous and the townhouse underlines that even more as you bid it a reluctant goodbye.

Steve’s car is sleek and red and overpriced. You don’t know much about cars but you can just tell. The interior is squeaky and so clean you’re sure it must be right off the lot. That new car smell fills your nose and threatens to inspire a migraine.

You put your purse in your lap and buckle up as he turns down the volume on the stereo. You recognise the song, surprised by his taste. He didn’t seem the angsty type. As far from grungy as you can imagine.

“Smashing Pumpkins?” You comment.

“You don’t like them?”

“Don’t mind em,” you shrug, “just figured you were more into… I don’t know, just not them.”

“When I’m not unclogging toilets or changing smoke alarms, I actually do have fun,” he scoffs.

“Oh, I didn’t mean–”

“Kidding,” he assures you as he pulls away from the curb.

You watch the townhouses pass by as he slowly rolls down the street. It’s eerie. There are no other cars lined up in the spots parallel to the pavement. In fact, you don’t see anyone else around. Not through windows, not coming or going, no one so much as walking down the cul-de-sac. It is oddly isolated from the suburbs all around.

“Not like I have great music taste, I’m a disco junkie,” you try to laugh off the tension.

“Fun,” he muses dully.

You don’t respond. You’re on your phone checking Uber prices for the way back. Eek. You pull up the bus routes for the area; at least two transfers to get there. Shit.

“So…” Steve begins, “who you chatting with? Telling them about your tight-ass landlord or what?”

“Uh, no,” you put your phone down and black the screen, “I was just… tryna figure out how I’m getting home. Sorry. Did you say something?”

“Nothing important,” he assures, “what time are you done?”

“Nine, closing,” you explain, “it’s fine, there’s buses. I’ll just have to remember not to go to my usual stop.”

“I can come get you,” he offers.

“That’s… that’s fine. You don’t have to. You’ve already done enough–”

“Really, I don’t have much else going on. Besides the washer but my buddy’s taking care of that for me. I’ll be available.”

“If you don’t mind, but really, I’m gonna have to learn the route. Actually, when do you think I’ll be back at my apartment?”

“Couple of days at best. After we left, the water got into the motor of the dryer– to spare you the whole spiel, the dryer needs to be replaced too. And the floor might need to come up, water’s done a number on the laminate–”

“Oh,” you grimace, “I… that sounds bad.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed. Look, I know it’s probably not ideal for you to be all the way out here. I’ll keep you updated,” he speaks with one hand as his other remains on the wheel.

“Oh, no, I appreciate all your help. It’s just…” you cross your ankles and nervously wiggle your foot, “I’m just anxious.”

He hums and a thoughtful silence rises between you. He turns a corner and clears his throat, “about the apartment or work?”

“What?”

“What are you anxious about?” He asks.

“Oh, uh, yeah, uh, work, sure. Work always makes me anxious. Lots of angry customers and we’re headed into that season, you know?”

“Makes sense,” he nods, moving his hand low on the wheel as he sits back and steers lazily with the clogged flow of the city traffic.

“And the apartment,” you admit, “I’m not the best with change.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he agrees, “I’m a bit of stickler. I like order, you know? Everything has its place. Everyone has their role.”

You mull his words. It’s a strange way of putting it but you get it. You find your life erratic this time of year, when your schedule goes from predictable to hectic and fluid. Everyone wants to switch shifts and all the managers are trying to fill the schedule with as few bodies as possible.

“I mean…” he breaks the lull, “you know, I keep a pretty strict schedule with myself. Try to. You never know when you’ll get a call at 5am.”

You suck in air and look at him from the corner of your eye. His allusion isn’t subtle. The pit sinks further in your stomach. You don’t need one more person disappointed in you, not when you’re about to face Gwen the manager and her omnipotent clipboard.

“Yeah, uh,” you bend your arm and rub your neck, “sorry…”

“You apologise a lot,” he interrupts, “I’m not mad.”

“I know, I just feel bad,” you move your thumb to chew it.

He glances over at you before quickly refocusing on the road. He laughs, a hollow, gristly chuckle, “trust me, if I was mad, you would know.”

You blink. What? You’re not sure what he means. Is he joking? Maybe it’s that he’s such a nice guy that the change would be unmistakable or maybe he’s being sarcastic and you’re too stupid to pick up on it. Either way, you just want this car ride to be over.

“Right,” you eke out, “I’ll, erm, be sure to stay on your good side then.”

He slides his hand around the wheel to the top, squeezing until the leather squeaks. He shifts in his seat and exhales, “girl like you, I can’t imagine you being too much of a handful.”

His remark sticks in your ears. Again, you’re confounded by him. You can't read his tone as it's quickly washed away by the sudden blare of music as he cranks up the volume.

“This is a good one,” he calls over the music, “I’m sure you know it.”

Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage Someone will say, "What is lost can never be saved" Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage

Now I'm naked Nothing but an animal But can you fake it For just one more show?

The creaky tones of Billy Corgan’s lilt surrounds you as Steve bobs his head. The swirl of noise and the shadow of tension mingle and suffocate you. You’re starting to look forward to work.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #corrupt-a-wish #au #multifandom #captain america #avengers #marvel #mcu #more characters to be added #blind offer

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atelierlili · 23 days

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It's time take you back to the past

to play the shitty games that suck ass.

Some besties wanted a list of Everlark fics recs where Katniss and/or Peeta are blasted to the past/alternate universe to relive the events of the games to fix it, so here we are!

Time Is Never Found Again...Or Is It? (113,000 + words) by blahblahblah1703

Katniss, after talking to Snow in his rose garden, finds herself somehow back in her childhood home. She has seven months until she enters the arena for the 74th annual Hunger Games, along with the love of her life, who when she last saw him, was still struggling not to kill her, just perfect.

The pre-game everlark that happens here is 🤌. This is part one of a larger series. The sequel (which is wonderful as well) can be found here. This is the series that got me into this rabbit hole.

Afterburn ( 104,000+ words) by BlueMaple

Katniss Everdeen-Mellark goes to the woods surrounding New Appalachia, a.k.a the former District Twelve, on the morning of the fiftieth anniversary of the final Reaping of the Hunger Games. There, she is literally waylaid by her own past, and wakes in the past, six weeks before Primrose was first Reaped. Alone, grieving, terrified, and without a clue on how she got there (and then), she realizes that it will be impossible for her- on every level- to simply live through events as they transpired in her personal future. With no way to return her to that future, she is nevertheless determined to get back to her own party - hopefully with a lot less damage and fewer crucial casualties along the way.

This is apart of the All Sorrows Less series, which is still being updated. It's filled with wonderful side characters, mindblowing twists, a baby I will kill people for and GILF Katniss, what more can I say?

Second Burn ( 127,000+ words) by carnationhes

Katniss wonders if things could be different if she got a second chance. And then she gets one. This morning she wakes up back in District 12 after Peeta's warning of the bombing on Thirteen.

Have you read Second burn? Why haven't you read it yet? You should read it. It's amazing. Literally makes my brain chemistry tingle. I think this is most accurate depiction of a Katniss being blasted to the past with no meta explanation why. It's sooo soo soo good. I'm on my knees please read it and please read the sequel Ignite as well. This series is so underated please.

over and over (lost again) (13,000+ words) by TeaBrigadier

I died in the Hunger Games. It isn’t even the first time it’s happened. I’ve died in the Hunger Games five times now

This is a very self contained time loop where Katniss continuously relieves the first games until she gets it right. I know it doesn't really fit the theme, but this one makes my feel happy feelings and i wanted to recommend something that's isn't so long so I'm adding it anyway. Deathloops are fun!

Ongoing:

Catching sparks (19k words) (Last update 26 Feb 2024) by Silver_Cleo

The time when 23 year old Katniss and Peeta get transported from their home in what had once been Victor's Village of District 12, and into the bodies of their much younger selves, who have just woken up from exiting the arena of the 74th Hunger Games.

Here Katniss and Peeta get traveled to the past to the point where they just win their games. It's a great WIP. I love Everlark working together and being cute + humanizing the 74th tributes and their family <3

I'm probably missing a few, but these are my favourite ones so far. As much as I love the trope, I know it's a monster to take on from a writing standpoint so props to the writers!

I hope you enjoy them <3 There's nothing I love more than shining a light on amazing fics new and old. If you have recs of your own, please send them my way. I love this trope so much haha

@bbrooklynbabe @nightlocked-in @waywardangel-wilds

#everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg #the hunger games #everlark fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation

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christinesficrecs · 1 year

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Anon asked:

Christine! Have you been reading any new Sterek fanfic lately? Do you have recs for fics posted or updated in the last year or so?

Here are the fics I’ve read recently. Some of them are new’ish. Also, check the fic rec friday tag for other great random fics. ❤️

The Lure of Gold by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 25.7K | WIP

Derek’s breath caught when he saw the gold flare in Stiles’ eyes.

There was something deeper in Stiles’ eyes than Derek had seen before—like the golden flicker of a lure, tempting a fish. And it nearly unnerved him.

Like the tale of the siren beckoning the sailor to the rocks, a fool hearted man who agreed too quickly to follow the sweet melody at the price of embracing death. Derek believed that to be a curse, once.

But would death greet such a foolish man if the siren truly wanted him?

and you are the only one, my everything by EvanesDust | 10.9K

Stiles is gay and in love with his best friend, Derek.

Derek is straight. He thought Stiles was, too, but then he walks in on Stiles with a guy and—holy shit!—maybe he's not so straight after all.

Stiles Stilinski's Epic Garage Band Experiment by DiscontentedWinter | 1.1K

“No,” says Dad when Stiles brings home the drum kit from the garage sale down the street. “No, no, no, no, no.”

I Wonder (Whatever Could It Be?) by MadcapRomantic | 10.5K | Explicit

Derek Hale works for the FBI. Intern Stiles Stilinski has moved departments twice, neither at his own request, and Derek is dreading dealing with him.

That is, until he gets a whiff of the kid...

Blindsided by AClosedFicIsNeverRead | 39.6K | Explicit

Derek exhaled tremulously and tried to stay calm. He called several more times, growing steadily more frantic each time, before allowing the truth to settle in: Stiles’ phone was off. “No. No, no, no, please, no,” Derek whispered to himself, barely able to see the screen through his tearful eyes. What had he done? Had he been so blinded by rage that he dismissed Stiles' call for help?

The Stilinski Method by Gia279 | 6.3K

In which Derek thinks he's in a meet cute, and Stiles thinks he's in a paranormal mystery. They're both smitten.

To Have Outlived the Night by stillane | 23.4K | Mature

Derek steps away from the window. “You helped me. They took that as a declaration.”

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 25.1K | Mature

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better.

Cookies, coffee and shut the fucupcakes by DropsOfAddiction | 26.2K | Explicit

“Ok. I’ve got a few shirts with me because I came here straight from work, but I think it’s going to be a tight fit. I know I’m not as skinny as I used to be but I’m not exactly the same hunky physique as you, oh grand macho werewolf,” Stiles shrugs.

Derek runs his eyes blatantly over Stiles’ chest.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Derek mutters, and he slams his mouth shut, teeth audibly clacking together, as if he really hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Stiles flushes but he heads upstairs to grab Derek a spare dark shirt. When he gets back to the kitchen, Derek’s already shed his dirty shirt and he’s helping himself to Stiles’ half empty mug of coffee, neck thrown back as he drinks.

Stiles literally looks to the heavens because he must have done something really good in a past life to be awarded with the sight of Derek Hale’s naked, very firm, slightly hairy torso parading around his dad’s kitchen before eleven in the morning.

Drinking his coffee. Stiles’ mouth had just been on that mug. Right where Derek’s mouth is.

By elementary school rules of dating (ie sharing a bottle, your mouth touching where someone else’s mouth was just touching, sharing cooties) they’re now married.

Fault Line by MadcapRomantic | 11.8K | Explicit

When Derek comes to, his head hurts.

No, hurts is the wrong word. It's not strong enough. His head feels like it's being split in two, down the middle. His ears are ringing, and his vision is blurred.

But despite it all, strong and crisp and clear, is the underlying scent of home, pack, and mate.

What It Takes To Not Be Broken by Whispering_Sumire | 17.4K | Mature

He's pretty sure Death is nipping at his heels at this point.

But he has to stay awake, has to keep Gerard away from Erica and Boyd, the two Betas still tied up with mountain ash and electricity on the other side of the room, and it looks like they're trying to scream through their duct-tape, still, but he can't hear it, not anymore.

The terrible, all-consuming, staticky silence had over taken him after about the third time Gerard's lackey- Ben, he thinks his name was- had stuck a military grade taser to his ear, a low enough voltage not to cause brain damage, he'd said, because the point of this was for him to talk.

it's obvious, you're oblivious by EvanesDust | 14.8K | Explicit

Derek’s new roommate is alpha bait but seems disinterested in everyone—especially Derek.

Stiles is suddenly popular, but can't seem to catch the interest of the only alpha he actually likes.

...or the one where Stiles and Derek get paired together in room assignments and are secretly in love with the other.

#sterek #sterek fics #ficrecs #fic rec friday #read all the fics

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