#it’s after midnight now here where I live but let’s just pretend I posted this a few minutes earlier lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vibratingskull · 3 months

Note

Can I request some smut with reader and samakro? Like he’s just come back from duty and all he’s been thinking about is how he wants to fuck them senseless, there can be any sort of kink you’d like to throw in there. Just really want some more Samakro smut to read 🤭

Please pretend I posted it in time for Valentine's day !

Samakro x F!reader

Tags : Rut, praises, bites, fingering, P in V, creampie, breeding kink

Samakro passes the door and leans his back against it when it closes, passing his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

What a campaign!

And Thrawn had another crazy plan again… The crushing headache he felt hearing it…

He inhales deeply, focusing on his sense to ground himself in the present, the sturdy floor under his feet, the cold metal of the door against his back, the sounds of metal scraping metal coming from the kitchen and the delicious spicy scent floating in the apartment…

Home sweet home.

He rolls his luggage to the living room, he can see the lights of the city through the bay window, how he would prefer to see the sky instead of the walls of a cavern, he just left the never ending night of space to join the constant darkness of underground life.

One day he will buy a house on the surface of a planet where the sun shines. He palpates his pants’ pocket to check if it is still here.

He relaxes at the rectangular form he can feel through the fabric. He didn’t lose it, what a relief.

He takes out his coat observing the city with a sigh of satisfaction of being home before midnight, then turns towards the kitchen, the only lighted room of the apartment.

Here you are, back turned to him, busy cooking his favorite dish for his return.

He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms and looking at you up and down. He admires your human skin, so thinner and softer than Chiss skin, your hair fashioned to not disturb you when you cook, your delicious feminine figure drawing itself under your clothes.

You’re wearing a little apparel today. It’s true that with today’s technology cities have no problem maintaining houses at an acceptables temperatures despite the frozen climate at the surface, and it lets him enjoy all the skin you’re showing off.

He remembers this outfit from a day you spent at the beach, under a real sun, it was hot and windy, consistently lifting your little skirt to the view of everyone. You were so embarrassed, it was absolutely adorable. You were wearing your bikini under it so your honor wasn’t in any danger but you kept pulling on the skimpy skirt, trying to keep it in place, to no avail. He tied his jacket to your hips and the problem was solved.

As thanks you kissed his cheek.

It was the first time.

He played it cool and detached but his heart was speeding at 100 miles per hour. He felt it pound in his ribcage he thought he would burst through and escape. He was so disconcerted, usually Chiss wait to have any kind of romantic physical contact but you leaned in and kissed him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He remained mute for half an hour, too shocked to speak, he answered to you by groans and hums. He was so thirsty for absolutely no reason.

He can’t help but grin lightly at the thought of your first date, you were both so clumsy it was pretty pathetic, but also endearing and a testament of the solidity of your couple.

Because you knew hardship.

Being human in the Chiss society is like signing a warrant to get discriminated against. After being found by Thrawn and Samakro barely alive in a crushed ship drifting into space, you had to fight to heal your deep wounds, the prognosis was anything but engaging and you had to suffer several surgeries to survive. After, it was the UAG for several months, and under the pretext that Samakro found you during the exploration of your ship, it now fell to him to supervise you. Orders of Senior Captain Thrawn.

How he hated that.

He hated that with a passion!

Why did he have to take care of a helpless human lost in space? Just because he discovered your unconscious body in a room doesn’t mean he should take you as his responsibility! But Thrawn gave his orders and Samakro was nothing but a good soldier, obeying his superior even if his orders were pure bull…

So he came to you everyday when you were in the med bay of the Springhawk and each time he entered the UAG facility he visited you, interrogating you, questioning you, demanding explanations as to why you were in this part of the Chaos.

You proved yourself capable of an extraordinarily resilient mind despite not being a warrior, never losing hope, fighting continuously to earn more and more rights in this little cell of yours.

He came to respect you, bowing his head to your determination and will.

He then started to wait for those visits, the time between each interview seemed long and boring, he caught himself thinking about your next encounter, wondering if you would wear that little top that suited you so well… He almost slapped himself at that thought.

He started to feel strangely protective towards you. One day he came for your schedule questioning but another officer was here, his mind suddenly screamed DANGER. Another military than him could only mean problems for you! He was your appointed official after all! So he jumped before the junior officer, demanding explanation for their presence here, pretty much terrorizing them until they runned off of the room.

“Are you alright?” He then turned to you, separated by the glass wall.

“I’m perfectly fine, they were helping me write my resume in Cheuhn.” You responded calmly, if not amused by this extravagant display of authority.

“Write your… What?”

“I am to be released in less than two months.”

“Oh… Well, congratulations.” He praised coldly, but deep down he felt his heart clench at that news, with you being released it meant… Not seeing each other anymore.

And strangely this thought displeased him immensely. Sending him in a sort of cold panic.

“Thank you. I owe it to you, Senior Captain Samakro.” You smiled at him, “Without your fair reports I could not have been released so soon.”

Fair reports? His reports were nothing but stern and impartial! Even if he maybe started to smooth the rough edges towards the end, even though he refuses to admit it to himself.

But your smile was so genuine and beautiful, your weird not shining red eyes were sparkling with pure joy even if you remained with a dignified expression. He gulped before your beauty that he seemed to notice for the first time

But he noticed it too late…

You were about to disappear from his life, his duty to you ending and you will be set free in one of the numerous worlds of the Chiss.

Somehow he refused that eventuality with all his heart! All those hours spent together flashing in his mind, he appreciated you, enjoyed your presence and wittiness, he wants to keep hearing your voice and your laugh, he wants to hear his name on your lips again!

“I know a good pub.” He dropped.

You tilted your head in response.

“You will need to know some people if you want to start anew, I can show you the right places.”

“... Is it a date, Senior Captain Samakro?” You asked with a hint of suspicion, grinning.

He lost his word for a second.

Is it a date?

His honor commanded him to shut you down, how dare an alien have the pretention to date a Chiss like him? But his heart told him that yes, it was a date.

And for the first time in decades, Senior Captain Ufsa’mak’ro listened to his heart instead of his honor.

And it was a good decision.

5 years later you were living together in an apartment you both paid for, you met the Ufsa family and you started dancing around the idea of getting engaged. Integrating the Chiss society as a human was everything but smooth and simple, hatred and racism was rampant but you hold on, earning your place in this ungrateful world and earning Samakro unending admiration and devotion. You woke up everyday to fight and he helped you, supported you in every combat, never hesitating to rub his rank in the face of the person annoying you as a threat.

Quite an effective threat.

All of this culminates to today, him observing you, devouring you with his eyes while you are cooking for your boyfriend, unaware of his presence but awaiting his return eagerly. How fragile you appear to him, how much he wants to protect you, right now he just wants to spawn in your back to pull you in the biggest bear hug you received in your life and bury his nose in your hair, squeezing you like an infant would a fluffy plushy.

He would break you in half if he did that.

His intrusive thoughts immediately start to act up, about all the things he could do to you, you are so feeble and petite in contrast to his huge stature, so flexible and…

He shakes his head, repressing his urges as he usually does.

He opts for a more dignified option, coming to circle your shoulders with his arms gently. You yelp in surprise.

“Hello, little bird.” He whispers in your ear.

“Oh my Warrior, Samakro!” You laugh, “You scared me!”

“I am sorry, beautiful. I saw you and couldn’t resist.”

You press yourself against him with a hum of pleasure. He is so warm despite his thick uniform.

“Do you need help, sweet thing?” He bites your ear with a chuckle, earning a gasp from you.

“Yes, could you take care of the carrots?”

He kisses your cheek, inhaling your scent sending him immediately in another spiral of desire that he strangles immediately.

He isn’t even here for 10 minutes and already has to fight off his most basest instincts.

He takes the knife to cut the vegetables and it doesn't even take a minute for him to start showing off his skills as a cook, he makes the blades spin in his hands and cuts the vegetables in the latest fashion of the chic restaurants.

“Show off.” You nudge him.

“I have to find new ways to amaze you after 5 years.”

You scoff, laughing.

“What nonsense is that? Of course you still amaze me after 5 years, no need to flaunt me with your cooking skills.”

“I want to keep that sparkle in your eyes alive and not let boredom stifle it.”

You shake your head with a lopsided grin.

“Ridicule.”

You raise on your toes to kiss his cheek and hear a faint purr in response.

“What matters is the love you put in the dish, not making it like a gastronomic restaurant.”

“And I am sure you poured so much love in tonight's dish it will taste absolutely amazing.”

“Well I hope so. What will I do if I cannot cook tasty dinners for my boyfriend?”

He winces at the mention of “boyfriend”. You’re too focused on your sauce to realize it, but it is unbearable to him. The little box flashes in his mind and he relaxes his shoulders.

“I thought cooking was my domain in this house, do you intend on supplanting me?”

“Maybe.” You glance at him with a cheeky grin.

“Then I will simply work even harder on my cooking skills and you will have no choice but to admit your defeat.” He simply argues, cutting the piece of meat in dice expertly.

“Will you let me pamper you for once, First officer Ufsa’mak’ro?” You ask.

“Not a chance, this is my role, little bird.” He flashes you his incisors.

He finishes greasing the meat and throws the pieces in a frying pan and starts flambing them with large flames like a first class chef, sauté the meat easily.

You add spices to the creamy sauce and he takes a spoon to taste it.

“You should add a touch of rhum.”

“Wouldn’t it be too much?” You wonder

“Am I the chef here, yes or no?”

“Alright, alright, mister.” You concede.

You check your ratatouille cooking on the other fire while he finishes the meat and combines the dish.

“You cooked a lot.” He realizes.

“Well, it’s your favorite dish. I wanted for you to eat it for several days.” You explain, wiping your hands on your apron.

“You are so attentionate, beautiful.”

“Pray that I am as good as a cook, soldier.” You wink at him.

He rolls up his sleeves, flexing his muscles to you and lifts the heavy pot with his muscular arms and carries it to the living room. He discovers a table already setted with candles and smooth jazz.

“I see you planned everything, little bird.”

“For your return, of course! I see you so rarely, I had to make it count.”

He puts the pot down and you serve your lover then yourself with a generous serving. Samakro mentally reads the recipe in his mind, calculating the calories and the adjustment to his training routine he will have to make for one or two days.

“Are you thinking about your calorie intake?” You ask, sitting down.

“How did you know?” He asks, getting rid of his black uniform jacket.

“I know you mister.” You chant. “How is it?”

He stabs a dice of meat with his fork, adds some ratatouille and creamy sauce and puts it in his mouth.

“Absolutely delectable, little bird.” He praises you.

You spend your evening dining in a romantic tête-à-tête. Samakro freshly left his post on the Springhawk so he kept the automatics of commanding, giving you sharp, stern and cold responses but clear his throat and present his excuses. You simply chuckle, savoring your wine, amused by your boyfriend's attitude. It is hard for him to completely relax for the first few hours back at home, but it lets you see your boyfriend's attitude when he leads troops and that is nothing short of interesting.

He also has to get used to your presence once again, get used to the unending temptation you represent and how his instincts resume clawing at his reason once again.

While you laugh at one of his sarcastic comments about Thrawn’s way to command he discreetly palpates his pocket again and feels his heart accelerating at the touch of the box. He has so much anticipation that he masks it to not awaken your suspicion. He feels like on a electric plaque, about to get electrified at any moment. The tension keeps rising higher and higher in his veins.

But you see none of that, you only see your serious, no-nonsense boyfriend eating your dinner. You listen to him recounting his latest adventures in space, what desperate battles he won, what rich encounters he lived, what batshit crazy plan his superior cooked up this time. You listen, your head laying in your hands, dreamily observing your Chiss at the other side of the table with heart eyes.

How much you love this man…

You extend your leg and start playing footsie with him and he responds immediately while keeping his hard expression.

You sigh, heart palpitating with love. He notices you fixing him and stops mid-movement.

“Is there a problem, little bird?”

“Nothing. I am just contemplating how much I love you.” You simply respond like it was natural.

He maintains a cool expression but his heart accelerates at your confession. Chiss use decorum and a sheen of implicit even to speak of their sentiment, but not you.

You just tell the truth how it is, frankly and directly, without any shame.

Which goes straight to his heart. He always despised all of this glittery and roundabout ways to say even the most simple things and your honesty is a breath of fresh air. You were never afraid to speak up your mind to the face of others and all Chiss categorized you as impolite and improper but he admires you for it. It was one of your most shining qualities in his eyes and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Thrawn appreciated this quirk of you too back when you were in the med bay of the Springhawk, which prompted Samakro to look into you more closely for the first time. Someone catching the eye of the Senior Captain Thrawn surely was worthy of closer inspection by Samakro.

“Thank you little bird.” He responds, trying to calm his beating heart. “I love you too.”

You smile, satisfied and keep eating, listening to his tales.

He is in the middle of a sentence when his bite almost takes the wrong way as he feels your foot come to play with his groin. He clears his throat as you apply pressure on his clothed cock with your naked foot and an insolent innocent expression on your face.

“And what happened next?” You ask to force him to speak while you are torturing him.

Goddamnit woman! You will be his death!He tries his darn best to keep his best behavior, to be gentle, romantic and respectful for your comfort and you…!

He bites his cheek in silence, gathering his willpower.

He had to fight his libido all his life, keep it in check at any moment and battle it daily. He always suffered in the Chiss society that promptly judged his condition as obscene and highly improper and he remembers painfully how his former relationships ditched him, calling him a baseless animal, too afraid of him and the piece of work he was. He internalized the shame and the pain, building anger and resentment which tremendously worsened his already hotheaded temperament.

Then he met you.

You didn’t judge him, when you initiated the first sexual contact with him he held his breath, containing and refraining his deeper urges and desires to not scare you away. You picked up on that immediately and simply declared that if he wasn’t honest with you would simply leave him for the evening, alone, hot and highly, atrociously bothered. He dug his nails in the fabric of the covers, clenching his jaw hardly before confessing the truth against his will, ready to get ditched once again.

You patiently listened, looking at his red shiny eyes.

You then simply leaned forward as you straddled his hips and kissed him languorously, tenderly, circling his muscular neck with your arms, robbing him of his breath.

“Fuck me as hard as you can, big boy.” You murmured, licking the shell of his ear. “I can take it.”

That night was amazing for him. Experiencing sex as his instincts dictated to for the very first time, he fucked you, hard and for long hours. You screamed his name so loud and so much he had to respond to an infuriated neighbor while you hid naked behind the door, trying so hard not to burst out laughing.

He thought he was excessively horny, but clearly he had no idea what you were capable of. Always teasing him, tempting him, poking at his most animalistic urges until he pounded into you savagely.

To your utmost pleasure.

You tilt your head with a thin satisfied smile as he searches for his words, trying to maintain his composure under your touch.

Hell! Only you ever managed to do that to him, reducing him to a puddle of nerves on complete fire. He would never talk bad of his former relationships but they all lacked the fire to match his burning soul. He always felt he had to smooth the edges and compromise a part of himself to make it work, leaving him unsatisfied and feeling unseen.

But not with you.

He warned you at the beginning of your relationship that he could be passionate and hard to manage sometimes. You simply smiled and answered “Try me.” with soft eyes. And you were true to your words, since he knew you he felt his outbursts of emotions greatly diminishing as your nature easily tamed him, bringing out the good in him. The tension he always felt in his shoulders evaporated gradually, alleviating the weight off his body. He felt heard and listened to for the first time in his life.

Truly connected to someone else for the first time.

But you just jump to it immediately, cornering him and torturing him without any mercy with that innocent face that makes him melt so easily.

He clears his throat one last time and answers with an equal voice to your questions, so you brush your feet harder against his loins.

This time he shudders, making the whole table tremble suddenly.

You cover your snort with your hand while he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He expertly keeps his stern mask in place but he knows if you continue it won’t last.

“I suggest you rethink your strategy, little bird.” He manages to announce with all the menace and authority he has on the bridge, “This little game can only last so long…”

This is your ticket to get out of here if you want to before he abandons the “proper mask” and lash out everything he has onto you.

“Oh, but I know very well what I am doing and what I am searching for…” You modulate your voice like a succubus, licking your lips and pressing your feet harder against his constrained cock.

Copy that.

“If you're not in bed in less than five seconds, I will take you on the table.” He points out almost nonchalantly.

You jump on your feet with a giggle and trots to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes all along your way. He takes another bite of your delicious meal you cooked with a lot of love for him and stands up to follow you.

He feels a low growl rising from the depths of his chest and throat as he discards his black tank top, inside the bedroom unlit his red eyes shines and gleams predatorily making you shiver with anticipation.

He discovers you kneeling on the mattress in your undergarments, very fine lingerie of lace and silk, almost jumping on the bed with how much you bounce, trembling with excitement, biting your lips.

“I awaited your return for months.” You admit, “I had to take care of myself alone, do you realize how lonely it gets?”

“Did you think of me when you did it?” He asks casually, leaning against the doorframe.

He used to masturbate a lot before entering your relationship, it being his only outlet for all the tension he constantly felt. But since you were dating he actually welcomed all of this tension, letting it go rampant to make it explode wonderfully once you get back together.

Several months of uncomfort are worth the earth shattering blissful weeks of sex you share together.

He does indulge from time to time, letting you plaguing his mind and senses

“Only you, First Officer Ufsa’ma’kro.” You breath out.

How he loves hearing his complete title with your needy voice, so alluring, so tempting, so… Lecherous.

He can hear the tremors in your short breath, you are as eager as he is.

He feels his cocks swelling in his pants, the urges starting to get control of him.

He growls deeper, crawling on the bed to join you. He immediately captures your lips, entering your mouth with his tongue, dancing with yours. He pushes your body against the mattress with his weight, sliding between your legs and starts waving his whole body against yours, brushing your groins together. You moan and gasp to encourage him, gripping his shoulders from under his arms to dig your nails in his blues flesh. He hisses in return, appreciating the pain, he gropes your ass and kneads it with his large, warm hands. You chuckle, snuggling in his embrace.

As usual he planned this leave right at the moment of his rut, when the desires get utterly unmanageable for him. This is standard procedure for any Chiss in the Navy, he isn’t an exception, he just has it harder than any others.

But you are always here to welcome him deep inside of you and relieve him.

He fights the urge to just seize and tear the undergarments apart, you choose them carefully for him, it would be a shame…

But damn the urge is strong!

“Open those legs nice and wide for me, beautiful.” He growls.

You oblige eagerly and you feel his large hand trailing his way from your tummy to your panties, he passes past the hem and scoop your pussy. He can already feel you dripping with anticipation.

He could just jump into it. Enter you right now and fuck you into oblivion.

But renouncing foreplay is renouncing half of the fun!

And he likes his fun. He indulges in excess with you.

His little birdie.

His sweet… girlfriend.

But not for long anymore.

He trails your slit with his finger, collecting your wetness, lubricating his finger before pushing past your folds and entering you, knuckles deep. You mewl instantaneously, rolling your hips on the mattress under his large body.

“Relax, beautiful.” He whispers darkly, “Invite me in…”

He searches for shorts seconds and finds the oh so sweet spot that makes you see hyperspace and make you dripping wet, he immediately starts aggressively brushing it with the pad of his finger.

Without being a mean character himself, “nice” and “tender” aren’t his style.

He likes the mess, he likes fucking nasty style, he likes you screaming out your pleasure. He likes pushing the limits of your bodies.

This extend to his fingering style

He rubs the gummy spot harshly and relentlessy, crossing it, circling it, scratching it. He doesn’t neglect your clit either, pressing it down with his thumb, he knows how important it is for feminine pleasure, he glides across it, teasing and titillating it feeling the nervous bud puffing up under his touch, gorging itself with blood.

His lips attack your neck, biting down the soft flesh with his long fangs, sucking on the smooth skin. He takes the opportunity to inhale your natural musk, teasing his own rutting instincts with your pheromones as you fuck yourself on his finger. Feeling your eagerness he inserts a second finger to stretch you out.

You are already dripping wet and plenty ready, but he wants to play, wants to toy with your reactive body, shuddering under him. He humps your thighs as he scissors you thoroughly, knowing exactly what makes you react and scream in pleasure. He parts from you with immense difficulty to reposition himself between your legs, he resumes his rough fingering while applying pressure on your womb with his other hand, hooking your pussy and flicking your clit.

“Does it feel good, little bird?” He growls.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You cannot help yourself but shout with how much pleasure he is giving you.

“Oh my Warrior, keep going! Right here! Right…”

“Good. I want you to come hard, okay? I will count to ten and you will come at my command.” He orders. “10…”

You mewl and moan, squirming in his expert hands.

“9…”

You arch your back as you deeply inhale as waves of pleasure are spreading across your entire body.

“8… Keep going, sweet thing.”

You feel your pussy clenching around his fingers to suck them inside of you.

“7, roll you hips, fuck yourself good.”

He accelerates his ministrations.

“6…”

Your body trembles terribly as he fingers you deep.

“5, hold it for me, beautiful.”

As a trial he adds a third finger. Your mouth rounds up in a perfect “o”, it is almost too much for you.

“4…”

You feel your abdominals and pussy clench around his large fingers. Each seconds gets purposefully longer and longer, torturing you for his amusement.

“3, you are almost here.”

You feel yourself dripping in his large hand and the sheets.

“2…”

The tension rises to another height.

“1…” He groans with a short breath.

The tension snaps and a warm shockwaves spreads through your entire body, your pussy clench furiously, trying to retain him inside and you squirt thanks to the pressure on your womb. You cannot help a scream of pleasure as your orgasm explodes in your cunt.

Your body tenses up and relax suddenly, leaving you with limp limbs and no strength left.

“Amazing, beautiful!” He praises you with his warm voice, a hungry growl resonating in his chest, “And so obedient…”

You remain still with your eyes closed, awaiting for the bright lights behind your eyelids to subside as the warmth of your orgasm slowly disappears. You take your breath, your chest rising up and down rapidly.

“Open your eyes (Y/n).” He orders softy.

You open them only to meet a velvety rectangular box, open with a ring reflecting the red light of Samakro’s eyes in the obscurity of the bedroom.

Your breath escapes you in shock. You press your hand against your mouth, at loss for words.

“Oh my Warrior…” You can only mutter.

“(Y/n),” He inhales deeply, “Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

His voice is equal and assured but there is an undeniable longing and hope in his tone.

“But… Samakro, what will the Ufsa say?” You worry.

He sighs in his mind, engagements and marriages are a family affair, you have to deposit a demand at the local Patriel for them to investigate the prospect couple, judge if the union will be profitable to the family as a whole, ensuring that nobody marries down their standing and ranks… Marrying was a real obstacle course and the couple were rarely in love with each other, the families openly preferring arranged unions.

And Samakros knows that if he doesn’t act now the Ufsa will find him a wife without his opinion.

“To hell what they would say! I want you and no one else, I will not let them dictate this aspect of my life!” He assure you.

You lose your voice. Samakro going against the Ufsa wishes? Samakro rebelling? Samakro ready to stand against anyone else…

For you?

You burst into tears, immediately hiding your face behind your hands.

He remains still, not knowing what to do or how to interpret your reaction.

“(Y/n), beautiful, are you alright…?” He worries.

You nod, trying to control your shudders and calming down between your sobs.

“But… But if they refuse…?” You hiccups. “I am a mere human, they would never allow such union…”

“I will raise to Commodore and cut all ties with them. I will take them as enemies if they refuse, I will raise hell to keep you!” He continues with fire in his voice, “Please, my love, cheo cha’cah… Will you give me your hand?” He presses himself against you, taking your hands off your face to squeeze them, pleading with his eyes.

“Yes… Yes!” You can only chant between your tears, “A hundred times YES!”

He gently takes your hand and passes the ring on your finger. You hiccup and gasp and sob but you also giggle, wiping your tears away, eyes fixed on the diamond shining red with Samakro’s eyes.

He nuzzles your face, pecking your cheek and the corner of your mouth, purring loudly, circling your shoulder with his arm to pull you into a hug. You press yourself against him, kissing him deeply, pulling him closer desperately.

He is taking an immense risk, the Ufsa will never forgive such an infringement to tradition and proper etiquette. A union with a lowly human will be such a stain for their honor…

But he is ready to take on the risk for you and nobody else.

They can deprive him of his rank if that amuse them, he doesn’t care. He knows Superior Captain Thrawn would never accept a demission for such a reason. He would never understand such a decision, much to Samakro’s relief.

As long as he can provide for you and support your future family, Samakro is satisfied. He can face any hardship life can throw at him! He is ready.

For you… Only for you.

He bites down your lips hungrily, his rut reminding him cruelly of its presence. Your cheeks are wet with tears but those are tears of joy, the only ones he authorizes himself to trigger. He purrs loudly, grasping your body, groping it everywhere, caressing it, kneading it.

“Fuck me.” You let out between kisses, “Like our first time, fuck me hard.”

“Anything for you, beautiful.”

He seizes the delicate fabric of your bra and tears it apart, revealing your lovely tits to his eyes. He pushes you down the mattress and takes one in his mouth immediately, licking and sucking it avidly, kneading the other in his large hand, squeezing it gently.

You gasp and arch your back again, waving your body under his muscular one. Oh the unholy sounds he makes when he sucks on your breast, laving at the nipples, gliding the tip of his tongue across the nervous bud.

“I love your tits, little bird.” He obscenely groans with one in his mouth, “So round, so soft, so perfect for me.” He worships your body.

He suddenly bites down your nipple, earning a choked gasp frome you. He kisses your pebbled flesh and gives the same treatment to the other. He lays down on you to brush your clothed sexes, humping them together.

Once he is done worshiping your breast he rises on his knees to open his constrictive pants, you growl instinctively at the sight of his bulge. You rise in a sitting position and kiss it over his boxer, pecking his clothed cock reverently before taking a big wet lap at it. He growls in response, getting rid of his boxer.

“I need to be inside of you as soon as possible, princess. Lay down.” He hisses appreciatively.

You gladly open your thighs for your fiance, letting him see the mess he made of your panties. He lowers himself down to tear them apart like your bra.

He just can’t help himself…

He maintains your thighs open to observe your dripping cunt bare before his rubies, emitting a deep growl like a predator getting territorial. You smirk and spread your folds apart with two fingers to taunt him. He dives forward to give it a big and long lick with the flat of his tongue.

“Hell…” He can’t help but curse at your taste.

You taste so good, so sweet and so, so wet…

Just for him…

He raises back and aligns his painfully hard cock with your dripping entrance. Pre cum is dripping off his tip, his instincts scream at him to bury himself deep immediately but he holds on, using all his willpower to restrain himself just a bit longer and brushing his girth between your folds, coating it nice and good with your essence. You sigh of pleasure but he feels your impatience bubbling under your skin.

And he feels his own too. You both waited long enough.

He positions himself and buries himself to the hilt in one go. All your air gets knocked off your lungs abruptly and you gasp. Without wasting any second he installs a break necking pace, invading your pussy with his girthy length without any pity for your poor body

He fucks you without any restraint anymore, bullying himself into you, forcing the most obscenes noises out of you. He fucks out all of his stress, all of his tension, all of his anger out, instilling all his strength in each and every thrust.

You seize the headboard to prevent your head hitting it, to no avail.

“Ch'etecerci! Your little pussy is so tight, little bird!” He gasps almost painfully, “You are strangling me so good!” He praises.

You cry in response, gasping desperately but each of his hips movements are fierce, rapid and deep, making the bed crack dangerously.

He fucks you brutally, pluging his dick deep in your wetness, leaving you no time to adjust yourself or breath. That’s how he likes to fuck, nastily and mercilessly. He loves your gasps and your screams, he loves how tight you are, how powerless you are in his arms, how he owns you body and soul.

He raises on his knees, forcing your hips up, robbing you of any little control you might add over the situation. He digs his fingers in your flesh, slamming your hips violently with his, feeling his large cock assaulting your poor pussy.

Your human skin is naturally colder than a Chiss one, but you are oh so warm inside, making him absolutely insane, your warm, wet pussy welcoming him deep inside…

He rolls his hips languorously, waving his body sensually, flexing all of his muscles to impress you like you were in any state to formulate a single coherent thought.

Your brain is fried beyond reason, only good enough to register the pleasure you’re feeling and numbing any other info it receives.

But that’s how you like it.

Fucked so well you lose all control over yourself.

How many times did you end up in tears after a high so powerful the descent was utterly devastating? But Samakro was always here to catch you, to comfort and soothe you, hugging you tenderly after fucking you like a beast.

One of his hands releases your hip to take care of your pulsating clit, he starts flicking it in rhythm with his thrusts, teasing your nervous bud until he starts feeling your pussy tightening around his shaft.

“That’s it, beautiful, take it! Take all of me!” He taunts. “You are so good for me, so perfect!”

You cry, he stretches your little pussy so much! You’re not meant to fit such a cock, but he always makes it work somehow…

Each time he becomes absolutely rabid seeing the bulge your bodies make, he is so much larger and taller than you! This simple sight overrides anything left of his reason and dignity and renders him simply…

Animalistic.

Bestial.

Savage…

So far away from the pride of the regal Chiss, he becomes a vicious beast hunting you down for pleasure and release, riding you into their cold sun and back, tearing the pillows apart and destroying almost every bed you ever owned.

And you love it.

How he discards his pride, how you can reduce him into a mess of groans and growls. How nothing else matters in those moments but the two of you.

He keeps scrubbing your poor clit, making you cream around his girthy cock so much. He can feel your wetness rolling down his powerful thighs to the sheets, but what can he say?

He simply loves a mess in his bed.

And he is going to make such a mess…

He lays back down your hips on the bed, laying on you with his full weight, attacking your neck again.

“Little bird, beautiful, Cha’cah…” He punctuates each word with a deep thrust, “Will you let me breed you? Will you let me fuck a baby into you? Please? I need it…” He grunts animasticaly. “A little baby, our baby, you and I! Our baby!Our little one!”

Only choked whines escape you now, but you manage to gather enough willpower to circle his hips with your legs, imprisoning him between your thighs.

“Do it…” You let out in a gasp, “Give me a baby, Samakro…”

He roars and bites down your neck, his long fangs breaking the skin and he hurries his thrust even more ravishing your poor cunny that can’t do anything else but take it. You’re more of a sex doll than an active partner with such assaults!

A loud crack suddenly resonates in the bedroom and you yelp as you feel something break under the mattress. That doesn’t stop Samakro, only fixated on his new objective.

Breeding you.

Making you his for all eternity.

Tying your legacies in blood and flesh.

“My little bird! My beauty! Cheo Cha’cah!” He rasps, “Mine only! To fuck and breed as I please! Letting me fuck a baby into you like a good princess!” He is beyond any reason at this point.

He keeps his pace up, licking the fresh bruise on your neck and you hug him tight, circling his large shoulders and you bury your nose in the crook of his neck.

In his blind rage he still has the senses to take care of your clit, far from neglecting it he increases his caress and harsh brushes making you see hyperspace behind your eyelids.

He maintains his bestial rhythm until his movement becomes erratic and he freezes still, spurting his potent seed inside your pussy. You cannot refrain from the scream of his name, too lost in your bliss. Your pussy clenches hard, milking him for all his worth, retaining him deep inside.

Everything comes to a halt, and silence takes place.

You take your breath, Samakro laying on you, kissing your bruise tenderly, purring loudly. Your bodies are covered in sweat and juices, you both pants heavily, trying to calm down your beating hearts.

“We broke the bed.” You sigh, “Again.”

“Really? I did not notice.” He chuckles.

Which one is it? the 30th? He doesn’t care because he hopes he will have to buy a lot more in the future.

He raises his head to look at you, you are exhausted beyond measure but he can still see the bliss in your eyes. He nuzzles your nose with a smug smirk.

“Oh you’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?” You snark

“I might…” He only answer.

He takes your hand to observe the ring at your finger and kisses it reverently.

“Thank you…” He whispers. “I love you, (Y/n).”

“I love you too, Samakro.” You smile fondly at him.

He feels himself melt again, utterly defenseless before your charms and he kisses your lips.

Softly.

Tenderly.

Lovingly…

You part with a shudder of surprise when you hear someone pounding the door.

“Ah!” You chuckle, “We woke up the neighbors again!”

Beautiful artwork by the Magnificent @jun-c !

#samakro x reader #samakro x f!reader #samakro #ufsa'mak'ro #thrawn #thrawn ascendancy #thrawn smut #fanfic #vibratingskull

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ladysomething · 22 days

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4 other lestappen fics after this one? 😏

hehehe well now you've done it!!!!

behold, the other fics in waiting, including snippets from what I've already written of them.

in likely posting order, they are:

Post Aus GP fic where Max and Charles have been hooking up casually for a while and they both need to let some steam out after the race. daddy kink!

"Charles doesn’t text Max back until just past midnight.

It’s a little earlier than Max expected, really. Back when every win for the team was hard fought, Max usually didn’t stumble back to his hotel until after the sun rose.

Then again, if the team won, it was usually because it was him. Not his teammate. The circumstances are different.

Charles replies with a room number, then says, I’m already back. Come when you can.

Max see’s no point in waiting around—he’s been itching for this for hours, and Charles probably knows it. Instead, he quietly pushes back the sheets of his bed and slips out. He puts jeans on over his boxers, and then pulls on a sweatshirt, and pretends he can’t see Kelly watching him in the low light of his lit up phone screen.

She doesn’t say anything when he slips the hotel key in his pocket, nor when he walks out the door, so Max doesn’t either. He knows she more than suspects he’s having an affair, but he’s not sure she know who it’s with. By now, she’s surely clued in to the fact that it’s somebody associated with F1 and who is always wherever he is."

hanhaki au where Hanahaki is a chronic illness developed when one keeps their feelings/emotions inside, and Max and Charles are both suffering from it.

"“You really haven’t spoken to him?” Daniel asks as Max picks the next track.

Max rolls his tongue on the roof of his mouth as he tries to figure out how to answer.

“I didn’t really want to talk to anybody after I was diagnosed,” he says eventually, hoping it’s enough to sate both Daniel and his own symptoms. His chest always gets tight when he talks about Charles these days, no matter how honest he is. Francois says it’s because he’s been living with the disease for a long time, now; that Hanahaki is degenerative, and soon he might not even be able to think about Charles in passing without coughing up flowers.

“Sure, but Charles isn’t you,” Daniel answers. “He’s a yapper. It’s how he processes things. And being about to talk to someone who actually understands would be extra helpful, I’m sure.”

Max knows all of that, obviously. He’s in love with the man—of course he knows it.

Max just . . . doesn’t know how to be that person for him. He doesn’t know how to be comforting, he wasn’t built for it. He was built for ruthlessness, precision, for seeking out weakness and using them to his advantage."

fake Max autobiography that he releases in 2033. parts of the story are how the people he used to be friends with (so people on the current grid) react to what he reveals in the book, and then one who chapter is just a whole fake chapter from the memoir. that's the chapter I've written, so here's a piece from it!

"I don’t think there’s anything I can really do to make up for what I did to Charles. He and I haven’t spoken since I retired, in case you were wondering.

Even the email exchange I talked about earlier actually went through our managers.

Honestly, I don’t even think I deserve his forgiveness. He put up with me when no-one else would, loved me fully and completely, put me back together, tore me apart, then put me back together again.

In some ways, I think he saved me.

In other ways, he saved himself from me.

I’m endlessly grateful for both.

I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I can recognise now that a lot of my behaviours were because of the trauma I experienced at the hands of my father. I can also recognise that I need to take responsibility for them, because I was a grown adult making decisions of my own free will.

I’m paying my penance for it, regardless.

There is no chance that I will ever love anybody the way I loved Charles. It’s just too unlikely, that I could be lucky enough to meet a second person on this planet that made me feel like he did.

But you don’t need to feel pity. You don’t need to be angry with me, either. I can assure you, I do plenty enough of both for all of us.

And I’m fine. Life is fine. I’m far from unhappy.

I know what I sacrificed. I know what I gave up. I know what I traded, to win what I won, to have what I do.

And if there is one lesson my father taught me that I’m grateful for, it’s this:

I know that I can bear a burden."

finally, a body swap!au in which Charles wishes to be World Champion, and instead body swaps with Max.

"“Make your decision, Mister Leclerc,” Althea says, not even looking up at him as she continues to sort her things. “Do you want to be Champion?”

Charles’ breath hitches in his chest.

“Yes,” he says decisively. He knows he can pick a secret that will satisfy Althea without it being life-destroyed. “Do I tell you the secret now?”

He sifts through his memories, trying to come up with something he might be comfortable sharing.

But all that comes up are things he would never say; how he’d once told Arthur that their parents didn’t love him and then felt terrible when his little brother had burst into tears; that he’d cried after having sex with a girl for the first and only time because he’d so desperately wished he could just like it and be normal; that he’d told Jules that he was in love with him and Jules had awkwardly patted his head and said it was probably just a crush and that he’d get over it, and, worse, that Jules had been right and he’d moved his attentions to a boy his own age by the end of the week; the terrible, awful, things he feels for—

Althea inhales sharply, eyes sliding closes.

“Yes,” she breathes. “That.”

Charles rips his hand away from hers, breathing deeply. “You—can you—”

She raises a brow at him, pressing her red-painted lips together.

“Get out of my head,” he commands hotly, standing up so fast his chair falls back, slamming against the ground."

#anon ask #lestappen fic #lestappen fic ideas

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writersblockedx · 2 years

Note

Hey! I love your posts! Would you be able to do a sam x reader x Dean where they just came back from a long day of hunting and Y/n suggests that they should watch a movie together and cuddle together, y/n chooses who she wants to cuddle with and at first it’s sam but then dean gets sad (jokingly of course) or something?

Unwind

Pairing - Sam Winchester x reader, Dean Winchester x reader Summary - After a long hunt, both of the brothers are tired and in need of Y/n's comfort. Warnings - Mentions of violence, all fluff! Words - 0.6K (Sorry its a little short but I hope this is okay!)

Visit my masterlist

They were bound to be exhausted. Not only had they taken out a nest of vamps, but the drive back had been a long one. Each of them were tired, in need of food and sleep. So they did as they seemed to always do: picked up Dean's greasy food of choice (and a salad for Sam) and then they piled onto the sofa.

Sam was still picking at his salad when Y/n wandered into the living room where Dean was already flicking through the channels. He pushed the button between each show, barely giving himself chance to read what exactly was playing. "Anything good on?" The girl asked as she took the empty space next to him.

Dean sort of made a grunt of disagreement in response. "Nothing really." He paused, checking the watch on his wrist. "It is almost midnight." Which would explain the lack of decent tv on.

"Here," Y/n spoke and gestured for Dean to give her the remote. He was hesitant but handed it over nevertheless. She too switched through a few channels before landing on an old 70s movie that she let play.

Dean laughed from the side of her, "As if any of us are awake enough to watch a whole movie."

She shrugged, "We don't have to watch it all."

It was then Sammy finally joined them, throwing his body into the final spot, leaving Y/n squeezed into the middle of them. To make it worse, Sam wiggled around until he was sufficiently cuddled into Y/n. Her arm swung over his shoulders while his laid lazily over her stomach. "I think you're getting a big for cuddles now, Sammy." She joked as she tried to get herself comfy.

He barely was able to make out his hummed response - more sleepy than Dean or herself. "Tired." He murmured, his eyelids already beginning to fall shut.

Dean's eyes didn't tear from the TV screen as he replied, "That's why you have a bed, Sam." He reminded his brother.

Though, by then, Sam was already slipping into his dreams. Y/n peeked over at him and the peace that was painted over his expression; just that sight able to bring a smile to her lips. "I think he's asleep." She observed.

Dean too looked over; he was well and truly sleeping. So the older boy returned to the shitty movie Y/n had put on and pretended as if he didn't yearn to be comforted by the girl next to him. Only five minutes passed before Y/n caught on. Dean with his arms crossed over his chest, a frown written into his lips and a lack of any sort of conversation. It made a smirk tug at her lips. "Dean?" She called.

His head turned to face her, "Hm?"

She tilted her head slightly and quirked a brow, "Do you need a cuddle too?"

He was already snuggling into her lap before he had even answered her. "Thought you'd never ask." And like that the boys laid, lulled into their dreams as a stupid 70s movie played. And soon enough, Y/n joined them and they slept till the sun rose in the morning.

Supernatural Taglist - @desimarie12 Dean Winchester Taglist - @lyarr24

Want to be notified next time I post? Click here to be added to a taglist!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester y/n #dean winchester fanfic #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester imagine #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural oneshot #x reader #imagine #fanfiction

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captainsupernoodle · 2 years

Text

*looks at my bookmarks and to read list* *looks away* I'm gonna need to do themed rec posts huh. So here's what I've been reading recently - these are wips that are currently updating, altho at varying speeds! Most of these are steddie 😂

wouldn't it be nice (if we could wake up) by kissesforcas, 70k - they finished destroying my heart with soft fluffy low stakes nerdy loveliness in the shire is NOT on fire and decided to come for me from the other direction with some Delicious angst with their take on immediate post-Vecna fallout. Ymmv if you're squicked by imprisonment and/or medical experimentation but it's clearly tagged and there are chapter content warnings! (Light spoiler but) I wanna give a big hand for Steve getting to join in on the monster shenanigans and an absolutely stunning take on the upside down. Almost complete!

I'll Hear You Scream by whileawaythehours, 50k - AUGH. Vampire!Eddie but it's mostly aftermath, and WHAT an aftermath, ooh boy. Definitely a heavy angst start, but proceeded to lovely softness at this point. Features Steve with a big-ass sword, unfortunately overshadowed by circumstance, but a cool image nonetheless.

Lacking Substance Not Fear by ItCanBePalped, 10k - Steve does music! It's Steve & Robin centric so far (possibly my favorite relationship in the show, and excellently done here) with the adventures of keeping Steve's head in one piece. Tackling IRL consequences of things like head injuries can get heavy fast, but so far this is mostly fluff! Steve Is Okay. Robin, I love you.

(something happens and I'm) head over heels by GibbousLunation, 30k - I did two vamp Eddie fics so here are two "Steve gets hit in the head a lot" fics. Steve is uuuuh less okay in this one but at the current chapter they DID find him from where he wandered off and he's gonna be alright.

keds and tube socks by littlelansky, 15k - they watch Nausicaa!!! No upside down drama, all fun group dynamics, some of that we-saved-the-world-together-but-we-dont-really-KNOW-eachother developing friendship/pre-relationship stuff with Steddie. Excellent.

to be cut adrift by cydonic, 18k - some of those fun old PTSD coping mechanisms! Midnight drives and Eddie trying his best to help out the chronic helper. Steve cooks!

Let us Dwell in Fair Ithilien and There Make a Garden by materialism and sparklyslug, 60k - this is a series rather than a singular fic but it is updating with one shots and things. Some similarities with "the most remarkable thing" by greatunironic in that it's a "five/ten/many years later" of how everybody's lives go after the upside down is done for good, Extensive Steddie Pining, and they both made me tear up with MANY feelings.

hellfire (save my soul) by philomendron, 30k - so far it's a pre-season 4 alternative mundane first meeting of Steve recruiting Eddie to help him put on a surprise party for Robin, which I would read the heck out of all on its own, but it's tagged "alternate universe - demons" and "Steve has powers" so I'm Extremely 👀👀👀👀👀

Punishers, Pretenders by beetlesandstars, 4k - a brand spanking new adventure by the writer of Feed On You and To Be Loved For No Reason At All. Only one chapter so far, but the tags imply it's gonna be a doozy (possibly with cuddles 👀) and I always love seeing the songs and band names people come up with for Eddie's rockstar career. Hang in there, Steve!

Descent into the Depths of the Earth (Or at Least Milwaukee) by disastardly, 40k - LAST CHAPTER COMING UP!!! Steve takes the nerds to gen con and has just now registered his own crush and I am LIVING for the gentleness.

standing up the dead by heartofwinterfell, 30k - just an epilogue coming up!! Max pov of Max and Eddie hopping realities together, I Love Them and I love the creativity around the premise, and the execution is A++++

Oh Boy, You’re the Devil! by prettydizzeed, 11k - I really can't describe it better than the summary: "A campy, satirical take on the Satanic Panic, featuring undercover missions to the local church service, falling for the antichrist, and engineering an Easter miracle." Incredible. to unsettle the foundation by the same author has me SO excited, Eddie and Kali is a combination bound to explode.

#weekend reading #fanfiction #fic recs #fic rec #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic recs #there is SO MUCH good stuff out there i am being fed SO WELL

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grayintogreen · 2 years

Text

WIP TITLE ASK GAME

WIP title ask game!

the rules are: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it. And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. hahaha no.

I got tagged by @marymauk and boy this is gonna be a trip. For the sake of not posting the entirety of a twelve-page document, I'm only doing the Critical Role ones since... That is what people mainly follow me for. Also that's... the bulk of them anyway. The only ones I removed are the ones I'm holding back as possible Wildflowers treats, the rest is accurate to the true unlimited potential of my brain just throwing ideas at the wall and waiting until the right time to do them. Also seriously my wip document is extremely well organized. Like before we get into this I need to show you what exactly we're dealing with:

Fortunately you're only getting the titles and if you're lucky I have actually written something for one of these. If not you... get the little summary and how long it is so you can laugh about why it's not written yet. I'm hoping to clear a bunch of these in the three month gap between OUADYA's ending and the sequel's beginning.

ANYWAY. TO THE TITLES... There are SEVENTY. I HAVE A DISEASE. IT'S CALLED "A THOUSAND IDEAS AND NOT ENOUGH ENERGY TO WRITE THEM." I am not tagging anyone specifically, because... 70. And I don't know who hasn't done it because I'm terrible. If you wanna do it, you can say I tagged you. There ya go.

have caution when the fox begins to dance

how many miles to babylon?

i have trod the mortal paths and danced the faerie way

and I'm certain the clues and deductions will help you to run me to ground

if you follow me, follow me, follow me down

you can never hope to beat the tricks that centuries have taught her

give me cold kisses now- one, two, and three

the flower in the shadow of the hanging tree

you can’t keep the ghosts out (when you’re the one who’s the haunted house)

there isn’t a past, there’s only the present flowing into the future

and the seasons turn like pages in the story of our lives

only the spiders are cunning enough to keep us from seeing the seams

of spindrift and footsteps and blood in the waters

some stars fall home, and this one still could

they weave their wicked webs among the spindrift and the rot

we build our homes on the water, and we wonder why the flood runs in

there’s not much point pretending this tale will have a happy ending

and we are the hope that you hold when the darkness grows strong

like an answer is something you’re allowed to choose

no judges here, just wicked men:

our hearths have grown cold

sharper than a serpent’s tooth (the lies they tell us in our youth)

the trick is not to fear him

a hand to guide them down the primrose path

these half-hidden lacerations won’t be healed by incantations

there’s always some new sucker who just won’t get out alive

this is a song of mornings after

went tilting at the windmill

and the scars you leave behind you never heal

are you sure that where it leads you is a place you want to go?

we were never a mistake

choose your words carefully

gulping pretty poisons that devour me in return

his pretty hands just won’t come clean

as you’re facing the future they gave you

we’ve had quite enough of that

your love has a cost nothing human can take

and always one page at a time

and the sky lights up with fire

i am not a sheltered princess and i know that good men die

it’s the midnight special, baby

light a candle for a wanderer who never meant to roam

let me be your lighthouse, and guide you to shore

she gives cheshire kisses; she’s easy with white rabbit smiles

strawberries smothered in snow

the math that makes us real

the word that ends the story

one day you’ll pay the piper’s fee

where the ash and willow grows

you know that all the heroes are gone

as in the painted parlor, ophelia dreams

there’s something divine in the way screams can sound

and no one could say where the story would bend

and the absinthe and the wormwood are the lost years creeping in

and the sea is never silent and the sea is never tame

blood burns like fire (and it always burns through)

so place your orders, place your bets, and draw your final card

how much dark before you just lose the light?

the tribe of crows and tinkers sang the roads across the world

they say her tale’s last word was known before the first was spoken

for the chains that we forge can be broken

give me coyotes to sing up the sky, for their voices are suited to labor

it's hard to explain all the sorrows you've seen, or the reason you keep buying more

and then came act two

in the shadow of the broken tower

wicked girls saving ourselves

she met the fate of fools who love the winter’s king

the cold sacrifices you can’t even see

for when the gods dare to believe, the light never fails

this is a song of all the troubles you’ve been bringing

#ask game #do i have a disease or am i disease #listen consider this a preview of coming attractions once ouadya is done #guess how many of these are tombtakers related #go on guess #my writing

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lokigodofaces · 2 years

Text

if this is not the final roommate post i'm gonna scream

I literally moved out over a week ago, but here I am.

Real fast so that things make sense, I despise the "forgive and forget" ideology, I think it's terrible and dangerous. I personally define forgiveness as less about the person who did the bad thing and more about the victim. I dunno, this is an unpopular view probably, I'm from a minority religion so that's where this comes from, but I view forgiveness as more about the victim moving on from what happened and not letting whatever it was tie them down (not a very good explanation but whatever). Just getting that out of the way so things make sense in case I talk about forgiveness (I don't edit these posts because I struggle with editing personal stuff like this, it's easier to just throw it all in a post in a semi-coherent way).

I'm just annoyed because I haven't seen them since the 20th, and stuff keeps happening still. And the times it's happened, I've been not really thinking about them. Like I haven't completely moved on, right, but I was definitely in the process. And then something happens that drags me into the emotional mess this has caused me again.

The first time was pretty meh. I was the last person to move out, so I had to deal with anything that was left by anyone. And if it was a few things, I wouldn't mind that much. But there was so much stuff. I had to completely clean parts of the kitchen again because they managed to get stuff dirty in less than a day. They took none of their food with them, and I had to throw away most of it because there was no way most of it would last in 5 hours in a car when it was 100 degrees outside. Wouldn't last for them either, but this was right after everything, and I had only had a day without them in my lives. And none of them told me they were going to leave all of their food (it was like six bags I had to throw out!). So I was stressed about that because wasting food is really hard for me. But, I understand that this really was small, and I was just still emotional from the rest of the semester. But I was upset because I was hoping that I'd be able to move on now that they weren't living with me, but, nope, stuff kept coming back.

And then last night. So I said before that one of them gave me an apology note and I highlighted the problems with it. And I've kind of just, pushed it out of my mind (until now). I was coming back home, trying to get a full time job, I've had 2 dental appointments, I have an optometrist appointment this week, I'm still not unpacked, my family got back from a vacation right before I moved back in, things have just been crazy. So I'm only now (sorta) at a place mentally where I can think about it. And I've figured I'd text her some response, I just wanted to wait until my emotions have cooled down a bit more so that I wouldn't say something I'd regret. Well, around midnight last night I got a text from the other roommate also apologizing. Didn't say much, just:

"Hey, I just wanted to apologize for not being the best roommate."

Not much of an acknowledgement of what it was that was hurtful. And this is more than a week after I last saw her. I didn't expect anything from her at all (and I was fine with that! I don't want anything to do with them!). So this is what has thrown me into another loop. I was prepared to text the other one (well, I wasn't, but much more so), but I don't want to hear from them really, even for an apology. Because neither of them really mean it. I know this because, again, Ellie did not get an apology. So this has pushed me way back on my process of letting go.

1) I want them to just leave me alone. Honestly, I don't care if they apologize or not. I just don't want to deal with them again, and I thought I wouldn't have to.

2) Again, why are they apologizing to me and not Ellie? Really, they treated Ellie worse. I haven't said all of it because it's not all my story to tell, but Ellie deserves an apology more than me. At least they pretended to be nice to me. One was only ever nasty to Ellie.

3) If they're apologizing to me, I'm pretty sure it's only because I actually said something about how we felt. They were having their chat and I came in and told them what really happened to Ellie and I (I emphasized Ellie and I being in the same boat). So now they're trying to apologize to me because I made them feel bad. But if they were really apologetic, they would apologize to both of us, even though Ellie was not a part of this conversation. I'd rather no apology over a fake one.

4) How am I even supposed to respond? I'm sure they're wanting me to be all like, "It's okay, I forgive you guys, most of it was my fault anyway haha." Heck no. Yes, I'm going to get over this sooner or later. But that doesn't mean everything is all good. They still caused so many problems that had consequences. Consequences I'm going to have to live with. But I feel like it reflects badly on me if I don't acknowledge there was an attempt at apologizing. But how am I supposed to do that without being accusatory, showing how I feel, not letting them think I'm okay with what they did, etc? How? I'm probably going to wait until Saturday to think about it and come up with something to say. I will take any suggestions because I have no idea what to do. But does it make sense why I feel I need to say something? It just feels like that if I don't say something, I'm just being bitter, and I don't want to give them anything else to talk behind my back about.

5) Okay, so this is an irrational fear. And I get that. But I just kind of need to voice it (and my mouth has been numb for hours so that won't happen verbally for a while it seems so I may as well say something here). So, part of me is worried that one or both of them will try to be all kind now and try to be my friend. But I want nothing to do with either of them! I just want them to leave me alone, and I'll leave them alone! And the thing is, they had their chances to be my friends. They had a whole semester to get their act together and to be decent to Ellie and I. Why would I ever want to associate with them again? All I want to do is stay away them. There's no way I can trust them now, and I have every right to keep myself out of a situation with them where I could get hurt. I know I have no real reason to think this could happen (well...one of them did say she wished she knew me better, and that has lead to my line of thinking), but it's not like both of them have done much to help me not stress. I'll figure out what to do, but only if it happens. Right now, I'm trying to convince myself I'm being paranoid. Though I might just block them if they become an issue.

So, yeah, I am going to have a mental breakdown if this is not the last one of these posts. Hopefully it is. Thank you for helping me through it. If you have advice for that apology stuff, message me or put it in the replies.

#roommate mayhem #please be the last one please please please

0 notes

otogelove · 2 years

Text

Personal Masterlist

(Just posting a collection of my fav fics so that I can keep track of them. Mainly anime/Genshin Impact x readers!)

Fav genres: angst-hurt/comfort

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

1. Genshin Impact

Xiao

Xiao found you crying while sleeping

Reader gets hurt/injured

His reaction to someone badmouthing you

Watching you get injured

Reader who is scared of the dark

Interrupted while making out

Reader gets abducted, possibly hurt

Such an idiot....

Watch your mouth

Harsh Words

Scaramouche

It’s my turn to protect you

Pretend boyfriend

Scaramouche “hating” his S/O

GONE

WATCHING YOU GET INJURED

HANAHAKI DISEASE

Sorrow and Regrets

Midnight Rain

dry your tears

you don't love me, do you?

are you jealous yet?

just this once

Diluc

when you sleep on the couch after an argument

Childe

HOLDING ON BY A THREAD

Tighnari

Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?

A WITHERED LOTUS

Genshin Angst - Tighnari

Committed to the forest Part 1

Committed to the forest - Tighnari (ending 1)

Tighnari's Guide To Why You Should Not Eat Sentient Fungi (Or, Why You Should!)

Let you break my heart again

Vindication

I know you’re tired, but I can’t let you sleep, okay?

Fontaine

Multiple

S/O who Shields Them From an Attack

Death and Regrets Pt.2

Death and Regrets Pt.3

You got injured Part 1

“Can you shut up for once in your life”

You faint during an argument/disagreement

Interrupted make-out session

ARE YOU LEAVING?

Genshin Characters with Injured Reader

seeing you severely injured and badly hurt after doing a commission

𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

SEEING YOU GET HIT

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐇𝐢𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦

𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦r 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞

“how much do you love me?”

Silent Treatment

Who did this to you?

— "𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂…𝗰𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴?"

Somebody’s Watching Me

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

2. Twisted Wonderland

Where did you get that wound?

Saying something hurtful and insensitive to their s/o

Their Crush Has A Stalker - Housewardens

Their girlfriend coughing up blood

I will protect you!

love triangles in twisted wonderland (i)

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

3. Enstars

Mika Kagehira

The Human Condition

Natsume Sakasaki

Whispering ‘I love you’ in-between kisses

https://nvzuna.tumblr.com/post/680374486704570368/a-n-another-rewritten-event-request-i

https://nvzuna.tumblr.com/post/679741054370578432/a-n-i-rewrote-this-plops-this-here-old-event

Multiple

Physical Affection

https://anzukinnie.tumblr.com/post/689504621085982720/can-i-request-prompt-22-with-ritsu-or-leo-ur

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

4.Chainsaw man

Aki Hayakawa

I Live My Life For Love

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5. Vanitas no carte

Vanitas

Comforting a reader who had a nightmare

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6.Jujutsu Kaisen

Inumaki Toge

Physicality

One small kiss

Sick!Reader

Megumi

"I will protect you with my life"

Yuta

Multiple

jjk men reacting to your death

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

7.Bungo Stray Dogs

Dazai

Patching You Up

Too Far

Argument

Sluggish

Blind Panic

Chuuya

Argument

Please don't cry.

You Won’t Hurt Me

Crying

Important

Silent Tears

Saving

𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

"I'm so sorry. You're safe now."

Akutagawa

Silver Lining

In Sickness And Health

12am

Multiple

How do they react to arguments between you and them?

Helping you recover after an injury

A s/o with asthma

accidentally hurting their s/o during an argument

“WATCH YOUR MOUTH”

s/o get hit by a random person because of a argument

major injuries

Chuuya & Dazai with a S/O Who's Ability Makes Them Lose Lots of Blood

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

8. love and deepspace

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evanjinx · 3 years

Text

alternative universe buddie fics recs :)

note: the links weren't working the first time i wrote the post but i edited and they're okay now!! if it still isn't working for you is probably because you're trying to open from a reblog from before i edit it, so try open directly from the original post on my profile.

Blind Date by @sassypopstar [complete | teen and up audiences | 3.8k words]

Buck feels a little ridiculous dressed in a jacket and a shirt. But Maddie had insisted on him dressing up for the occasion and even Chimney had quipped that it’s the right thing to do. So Buck, who never went on a blind date before in his life, listened to his big sister and her boyfriend because apparently that’s who he is now. Or the one where Buck goes on a blind date with someone called Eddie.

Buckley's Bouquets by awashleyno [complete | teen and up audiences | 23.4k words]

A world where Buck owns a flower shop and manages to develop a huge, massive, ridiculous crush on a handsome firefighter that comes in for a visit one day. Or, 5 times Eddie gives flowers to other people and the 1 time he gives them to Buck.

Call It What You Will - Fate? Destiny? (A Tsunami) by @abow123456 [complete | mature | 20k words]

Evan Buckley's day of relaxation is cut short when a tsunami hits the beach he was relaxing at. He has to fight to keep himself and a lost little boy safe from the water, as well as anyone else he finds. After, he meets the boys father and family, and it causes a snowball effect of good things for him, for once.

Capuccino with extra, extra sugar by buckbng [complete | teen and up audiences | 2.7k words]

Buck is the cute barista and Eddie is the grinch that hates coffee. Until, he doesn't. Because if Buck says he looks like the kind of person that would love a cappuccino, who's Eddie to disagree with him? OR Eddie really doesn't like coffee but pretends he does just so he has an excuse to see the cute barista at the coffee shop.

Confirmation Bias by strifechaos [complete | mature | 31k words]

After the fallout with his ex-wife, Eddie believed he could only trust his family with his son. He hadn’t imagined falling for his son’s sweet-hearted nanny, Buck. With his own family so distant, Buck never considered that he’d be lucky enough to find a home for himself, let alone people he could count on. Not until he meets the Diaz boys. AU: Buck was never a firefighter, and becomes Christopher's sitter when Shannon's job takes her away from Eddie and Chris for the summer. Eddie tries to not fall for his son's nanny, he's not very successful.

dream of some epiphany by extasiswings [complete | mature | 7.3k words]

Evan Buckley is lost. It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door. Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name. Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

Frequent Flyer by red_to_black [complete | mature | 13.4k words]

In his entire time being a firefighter, Eddie has never met anyone as accident-prone as Evan Buckley. And Buck - well, he's quickly becoming the 118's best customer. (Or - the one where Eddie is a firefighter, Buck isn't, and Eddie finds himself rescuing Buck from increasingly sticky situations. Sometimes literally.)

Gave me no messages, gave me no signs... by @reallysmartladymariecurie [complete | teen and up audiences | 7.4k words]

"Buck is beyond nervous, and he’s really trying to convince himself that the familiarity of the situation is not some sort of bad omen. Just because there are parallels of the start of his relationship with Eddie to that of his relationship with Abby doesn’t mean that this new adventure is destined to end in the same miserable fashion. He hopes it won’t, has to believe it won’t. Because even with Abby, he hadn’t fallen this hard for her before their first official date. With Eddie, everything is already intensified by a thousand." Or, Buck covers a shift for a firefighter at the 136 and it leads to a budding relationship through text messages.

Gotta Find My Corner (Of the Sky) by doctornineandthreequarters [complete | general audiences | 31.3k words]

It was the last day of 2016 and two lost souls found themselves in a quiet dive bar, as the loud noises of the city celebrating New Year’s Eve buzzed around them. Most people chose loud, flashy bars with DJs and entrance fees and promises of champagne for New Year’s Eve. But both occupants of the dive bar preferred the quiet. They both didn’t need the added chaos when everything around them already felt chaotic. --- Or, Buck and Eddie meet on New Year's Eve, 2016, a meeting that sets of a series of events that changes the trajectory of both of their lives.

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Till I Saw Your Face by @hmslusitania [complete | general audiences | 10.4k words]

After the ladder truck and the blood clot and the tsunami, Bobby makes Buck go to therapy before he does something stupid (like sue the city). Buck's not totally comfortable being alone with a therapist, but fortunately he makes a friend and ally who's willing to help him out - Eddie Diaz from the 136 who's just been caught in an illegal fight club. OR Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

i want your midnights by allyasavedtheday [complete | teen and up audiences | 36.3k words]

In which Eddie decides to rent out his spare room to help with mortgage repayments right around the time Buck decides to move out of Abby's place after some not so gentle prodding from Maddie. It's a coincidence. Or serendipity. Or maybe just really good timing.

i wanna be know (by you) by @starlightbuck [complete | general audiences | 12.5k words]

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Hen glances down at Eddie’s phone then back up at him in disbelief.

“How do you ‘not mean’ to download a bunch of dating apps but still have them on your phone?”

Or In which Eddie delves into the intimidating world of online dating.

if i got locked away (would you still love me the same?) by @firefighterhan [complete | general audiences | 3.7k words]

Buck gets accidentally thrown in jail after meddling in a fight outside of a grocery store. There, he meets an unexpected guest, famous music artist Eddie Diaz, who is being suspiciously quiet about how he ended up here in the first place.

if only in my dreams by @buttercupbuck [complete | general audiences | 5.4k words]

Years before Eddie joins the 118, Buck meets him at an airport bar on Christmas day.

in a week by @buttercupbuck [complete | explicit | 78.9k]

in which Eddie joins the U.S. Forest Service and in the meadows of California, finds the things he thought he lost and the things he thought he'd never have.

It Started With A Bang And A Hostage Situation by JayJay__884 [complete | general audiences | 6.6k words]

Buck goes to the store one late night to buy food because of Maddie's pregnancy cravings. Whilst at the store, Buck accidentally gets caught in the middle of a robbery and gets knocked out. After waking up in the backroom, Buck finds himself as a hostage with a handsome and caring stranger.

Leading with the Left by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [complete | explicit | 84.7k]

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico." And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?" In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

Lift me up by @captain--sif [complete | teen and up audiences | 5.5k words]

Buck gets stuck in his apartment building's broken elevator with his good-looking neighbor from the sixth floor.

Love and Bullets Both Shatter Hearts (But Only One Can Put You Back Together) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [complete | explicit | 11.2k words]

Agent [Redacted] Diaz is the best at what he does. Usually. But lately there's this real pain in the ass* who's been ruining his missions: Code Name "Buck."

*stupidly handsome and annoyingly talented rival spy

Mr. Buckley's After Hours Detention by aresaphrodites [complete | mature | 11.4k words]

It’s not like Eddie Diaz planned on this. Really, there was no scenario in his mind where he would ever be bringing his son’s teacher a freaking goody basket to class; a homemade goody basket, no less. Then again, Christopher has never had a teacher quite like Evan Buckley.

MukbangsWithBuck by @reallysmartladymariecurie [complete | teen and up audiences | 19.3k words]

After growing tired of eating alone in his loft, Buck decides to start a YouTube channel where he records himself eating dinner and telling stories about crazy things his team has encountered on calls. He eventually gains a substantial fanbase, and he is led to the channel of another LA firefighter who uploads informational videos and also casual vlogs with his ten-year-old son. It isn't long before the two start a friendship through messages, both of them secretly hoping it will turn into something more. Or, Eddie and Buck are both firefighters/YouTubers and they end up falling in love.

Objects in the Mirror by SevenSoulmates [complete | explicit | 139.1k words]

The voice had always been around, Eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where Eddie just tuned it out. But then the voice started speaking directly to him. Conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. Like he could see what was happening around Eddie. Eddie shook his head. No one was talking to him, and Eddie most certainly was not talking back. He wouldn’t talk to the boy in his head ever again. There was no boy in his head.

Passive Aggressive Flirting by @starlingbite [complete | general audiences | 4.5k words]

Buck and Eddie have never met. They both work at the 118 but just on different shifts. That's all about to change when Buck finds a sticky note message, signed E.

String of hearts... by @reallysmartladymariecurie [complete | teen and up audiences | 11.1k words]

“Now. Eddie is this incredible presence. He’s funny and smoking hot, and he has a son who sounds wonderful. And he’s serious and vulnerable at times. But so enjoyable to be around, every single second that he’s there. And how can I put myself out there when the expectation is so high? When the thing I might lose is so beautiful?”

In which Buck owns a plant shop in LA, and Eddie becomes his new favorite customer. Pining ensues.

check out my post of buddie fics with dad!buck

#i will probably do a part two of this because i have more but this post its already way too big #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #fic rec #911 #911 fox #911 on fox #buck x eddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #otp: you act like you're expendable but you're wrong #tv: 9-1-1 #*

579 notes · View notes

littlefreya · 3 years

Note

Henry's reaction to finding out GF's house is haunted.

Summary: Henry’s friend invites him over to watch a horror film on Halloween, problem is he is madly in love with her.

Pairings: Henry Cavill x Unamed OFC (3rd person, no description)

Warnings: RPF, fluff, romantic goo, friends to lovers or rather idiots to lovers, brief mentions of alcohol and Henry’s green hoodie p0rn.

Words: 1.6K

A/N: So I had to take it to the “friends to lovers” lane, also I will need all the fluff after what I am about to post tomorrow :|! Divider by @firefly-graphics. Beta’d by my beautiful @agniavateira . Also FYI my house is totally haunted.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed.

Haunted Houses

All Hallow's Eve was Henry’s favourite time of the year. The spicy autumn air was thickly shrouded by magic. Spooky tales and plastic spiders inhabited drapes of thin cotton tendrils and fat pumpkins carved with scary faces would sit on his doorstep to welcome him home or bid him farewell on his way out.

Per tradition, he would rally close friends at midnight for a horror flick and pineapple-anchovy pizza; often a bottle of rum would be added to the party. However, this Halloween fell on a bittersweet period, as his friends grew too old for said spooky gatherings. Starting new families of their own, they had no time to indulge him.

All save for her, who just like him was still somehow single.

How bad would it be to spend the evening just the two of them... alone? Ignoring the fact that it was enough to see her name flicker on the screen of his phone for pure warmth to enkindle in his chest. He thought about her often before he fell asleep and when he woke up; and by often, he meant every single day since he met her.

Though she didn’t think much of him as anything other than a friend she loved to banter with - he presumed. And of course she loved Kal, possibly more than she cared for him. Yet, Henry did what he did best: bury his emotions into a little pit he dug in the graveyard of his mind.

"Heh!” Henry croaked as the door opened. His sapphires ensnared the veils of black that cloaked her, preserving the sight of silk laces tied tightly at her torso in what seemed like a gothic medieval gown.

“I see you took off your costume for the evening."

She narrowed her eyes but only to observe his attire carefully: that same green hoodie and a pair of worn jeans that complimented his… asset.

She wanted to etch her fingers around the thick fabric and have a whiff of this hoodie, or perhaps just steal it and wear it forever and a day.

"First of all, it is called The Witching Hour so I must dress properly. Secondly - where is your costume, Cavill?" she crossed her arms together, looking rather displeased.

“I’m dressed as a homicidal maniac, we look like everybody else does.”

Snorting, she tilted her head, unimpressed. “You totally just stole this joke from Wednesday Addams.”

Henry shrugged and pressed his lips to a thin line. One of his foolish expressive gestures. It made her feel less nervous to which she was thankful. When she suggested they’d hang out despite them being the only two, she didn’t think much of the consequences of being all alone with the man who inhabited her mind and never paid rent. Everything about Henry made her feverish, but it was always easy when others accompanied them. The awkward anxiety of having to entertain him wasn’t her job, not up till now…

Oh, god! What if they had nothing to talk about? What if their playful chemistry was always influenced by the presence of other people?

Beads of sweat began to form below her breasts when Henry shoved a bottle of rum into her hand and then leaned in to steal a casual kiss from her cheek. She smiled with a friendly huff in return, stifling the shiver that coursed through her muscles while he welcomed himself into her home.

Striding forward, he peered at the Halloween decorations she hung across the walls and inhaled deeply - the scent of maple and buttery chestnuts filled the cosy little house, a scent that he could easily get intoxicated with.

It was what she smelled like and here he was, drowning in its excess.

After a quick observation, he turned to look at her, holding his hands clasped behind his back. She smiled awkwardly in return and then averted her gaze, becoming fascinated by the bottle he brought.

‘There it is,’ Henry mused, ‘that embarrassing silence, there is so much to tell her, but she probably… no! She definitely finds me boring.’

This Halloween celebration would probably be the last and it was all sorts of disastrous.

Trying to overcome the silence, he cleared his throat and reached a hand to scratch his curly mane. “So what movie are we watching?”

“Movie?” she asked confused and then quickly corrected, “Oh yes, umm... The Exorcist.”

“Good, love me some green vomit.” his eyes followed carefully as she waltzed into the small open kitchen, placing the rum on the counter and then returning with a large bowl that made his nostrils flare.

“Green vomit goes extremely well with caramelised popcorn,” she suggested and popped a golden flake of popcorn into her mouth.

“Sweet-salty popcorn? I love you!” Henry groaned and snatched the bowl right away. It was only when his mouth was stuffed that he realised what words he just used.

But she didn’t seem to react, thankfully. Instead, she brushed a hand over her many skirts and pointed toward the living room.

Hugging the bowl, Henry strode behind her, entering the dimly lit living room. The traditional pizza was already laid on the wooden coffee table, along with a few bottles of Guinness.

Her couch was small, only fit for a couple. And Henry, being a hulking man, took most of the space. Their thighs immediately ground into one another’s, yet they both pretended as if they hadn't noticed the hot tingle running beneath the layers of clothing.

“I have to warn you about something,” she uttered, hoping that the tremor she suddenly felt in her body was not visible to him.

Henry crooked his eyebrow, looking at the ominous glare she offered.

“My house is totally haunted.”

Not waiting for his answer, she grabbed the remote and pressed play. Henry chuckled at her silly joke, waiting for her to break character but she only peered at the screen.

“Nice try, I am not scared of that stuff.” He shifted in his seat slightly, lifting his lengthy arm and spreading it on the headrest right behind her. Immediately, he regretted this semi-possessive masculine gesture, but it was too late to pull it away.

Her instincts screamed to snuggle into him yet she held back. “Don’t believe me, but I am not making this up,” she insisted, “Every night around 3 am, I hear scratching from within the walls and these thuds from the ceiling, and then one night… I woke up the door creaking.”

Henry glanced at her quietly for a long moment, watching the reflection from the screen gyrating over her glossy irises and then snorted. He leaned toward the coffee table and grabbed two beers, uncorking them with the help of his pinky ring and then offering her one of the bottles.

“I think you have rats.”

“Rats who make heavy thuds and open bedroom doors?”

“Yup, a big fat randy rat.” he teased. “We’ll take a look at your bedroom later, but I promise you, there are no such things as ghosts.”

‘We’ll take a look in your bedroom? Great…’ He berated himself. At this point, he just wanted to sigh and shake his head.

She peered at him oddly, her throat clenching a tad before she turned her head back to the movie with a mumble, “It’s not a ghost, it’s a demon.”

Within a few minutes they grew quiet, deciding to focus on the movie with the occasional dry jokes and bad puns from Henry as an attempt to overcome his anxiety. Outside the window, thunder rumbled in the distance and shy raindrops lightly kissed the glass, tinted with the many vague shades of lights coming from the street.

Now and then, Henry shifted in his seat, his meaty thigh further grinding into her leg which stirred her blood to the point of electric spasms. She lightly pushed against him, pretending it’s by accident when truthfully, she wanted to exploit every second of being in his proximity. Had she any guts, she would turn to kiss him, but the thought alone made her heart clench in fear.

She threw him a glance, and their eyes met. Henry offered a kind grin, avoiding staring at her lips. She smiled back coyly, her heartbeat accelerating with anticipation when the possessed girl in the movie made a horrifying groan that ruined the moment.

And then the room suddenly was swallowed in darkness, followed by a strong clap of thunder that tore open the sky.

In the scant moment of chaos, he heard a scream and then the light came back as if nothing happened, aside from the fact that she was now in his arms, with her legs straddling his waist, and her fingers clutching the collar of his hoodie.

Henry was unsure how and when his hand found itself latched to the small of her back, only that he didn’t want to let go. They exchanged bemused glances and swallowed the dryness parching their throats.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely, “I got scared…”

Embarrassed to the point of tears, she attempted to climb off, wanting nothing more than to run to the bathroom and cry in hiding, when Henry sent a hand to stroke her temple and gently brushed his fingers behind her ear.

“Stay,” he insisted, squeezing into her lower back as if to prevent her from escaping.

Her lips parted slowly, the same golden hue that suffused the living room split into her eyes, beaming even brighter as he continued to caress her face before bringing her closer to graze her lips with his.

Halloween was, without a doubt, his favourite.

Tagging: @the-soot-sprite @henrythickcavill because they asked to be tagged in these. <3

#henry cavill #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x ofc

852 notes · View notes

missinghan · 3 years

Text

cold sun ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : soulmate au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 2,6k.

❖ warning : slight swearing

❖ summary : in a world where one will lose something if their soulmate doesn’t reciprocate their words of love once they turn sixteen, jisung is willing to take the risk so you won’t have to bear the burden.

❖ note : i just realized how i always tend to write for jisung when i'm down :')) anywho this piece is a little different than what i usually come up with but i hope y'all enjoy it ♡

It’s the first day of the week.

“Hey, Y/N. I like you!”

And Han Jisung is really annoying.

Those words come out so easily. It's casual in a way that makes you bury your red nose deeper into the soft fabric of your scarf, which makes your footsteps quicken unknowingly as his voice chases after you loudly. Either way, this isn’t the first time Jisung has said so. In fact, it’s become a habit for him to remind you every other day.

There’s no particular reason why. Or at least that’s what you think.

It’s the end of the week. Jisung decides to hang himself upside down on your bed while you’re stressing over a presentation. “Hey, Y/N.” A cold winter breeze comes rushing against the perplexing glass of your window, shaking the frame violently before all motions come to silence.

Until, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he creeps up from behind you and chirps into your ear.

“What?” you let out a groan of displease when tempting warmth embraces you whole, prompting you to drop your attention and looking over your shoulder.

Jisung pouts, “You didn’t answer me.”

“It’s because you’re annoying,” you sigh.

“Answer me when I call your name,” he pulls you in a fraction tighter, careful enough not to hurt you but firm to not let you slip away at the same time, and cradles your neck warmly, “So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“Alright, stupid.”

The all too familiar gummy smile returns instantly. “Hey, Y/N?”

And you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes, Jisung?”

“I like you,” he giggles into the hug, “I like you a lot.”

Han Jisung really is annoying.

He’s annoying because he talks too much. He’s annoying because of how he always asks for your notes after a gaming night with Felix just to nap in class. He’s annoying because he’d drop you in a heartbeat for a single slice of cheesecake from Jeongin’s mom’s bakery. He’s annoying because of how well he can get along with everyone.

Chatty, down-to-earth, easy-going with a lovable smile—attractive, very attractive.

It’s the week after that. “What...happened?”

“He lost his voice,” Jeongin sighs, looking like he genuinely wants to facepalm himself against concrete while walking with an incoherent Jisung to school; expressive hands with his mouth agape and all.

You tilt your head, “...for real?”

“For real.”

After a few seconds of eyeing Jisung struggling with converting what’s in his head, you exhale deeply and quickly rummage through your backpack, “Just stop, you look ridiculous.” And he does just that, zipping his mouth metaphorically and giving you those typical puppy eyes. “Here, use this.”

His eyes light up like stars when you rip off a page from one of your notebooks and offer it to him along with a pen. Truth is, you’re expecting something as predictable as ‘I like you’ or ‘It’s alright it’s just the worst cold I’ve ever caught’. But then, what’s displayed on the piece of paper right now only baffles you.

Park is going to murder you if he sees some uglyass tear in your Ochem notes :)

A forced grin splits your lips open. “Not if I murdered you first and then the entire school and then myself.”

The first genuine smile blossoms on his lips when you give him a mini-sized notepad and pencil the day after—his sixteenth birthday.

And Jisung decides this is it.

It happens when the sun hasn’t even come out yet and the irritating blue light from his phone reads 5:32 AM.

It happens when he sees your reclined figure leaning back against his mattress, his pupils tracing your delicate features. Perplexed emotions fill his eyes to the brim, fulfillment bursting within his chest when you stare right back at him with such purity. So pure that it seems you can do no harm to him and neither can he.

“Hey stupid,” you murmur quietly, shoving a notepad and pencil against his chest, “Happy birthday.”

Jisung gives you a bright smile, opens his mouth, and snaps it close mere moments later. Sixteenth birthday. Early in the morning. Tired grins. The fondness of being so disgustingly in love.

He can’t help but lean in and caves into the taste his soul has longed for as long as he can remember.

Two weeks have passed since Jisung has lost his voice.

Nothing has differed if you’re being completely honest. Han Jisung is still annoying. His lack of ability to speak doesn’t appear to be a problem to him at all. He loves chatting with people even though he’s more of a listener now. But with the small notepad you gave him a few days ago, being socially active is the norm for him even now.

Thanks to his rather short-period experiences of observing people’s expressions and how their features contort in certain ways when they’re feeling certain emotions, Jisung catches onto your mood more quickly during bad days to help you release your inner turmoil by scribbling down something stupid on the notepad. It’s kinda nice like this, you’d think to yourself sometimes.

Other times, you’re more scared that you might have forgotten what his voice sounds like.

“No wonder you got a fucking cold. Stop taking midnight showers already.”

You wave Jisung over when he closes the wooden door to your bedroom, droplets dripping from his hair as he scratches his stomach tiredly. His hair is a mess when he lazily crawls onto your bed, the cushion beside you dips slightly.

His index finger pointing at his post-shower head and a shit-eating grin are all you need to snatch the white towel around his neck.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you mumble while rubbing the cotton fabric into his hair, “But you’re awfully upbeat for someone who’s lost their voice. Can’t you at least pretend to be sad about it?”

A noise of protest escapes his throat like second nature as your eyes carefully read the quick movements of his mouth. “And can you not be so mean to someone who’s lost their voice?”

A faint smirk creeps its way up to your lips. “Still like me now?”

Jisung thinks hard for a few moments before jumping out of bed to snatch his notepad from your studying area. Of course, I like you. I like you a lot. Your heartbeat momentarily spikes at his scrawny handwriting. Just when your gaze is averted away to cool the blush on your cheeks, he tugs at your sleeve again and points at a different mess of scribbles. You’re more gentle when I’m like this. And you’d always find me if I ever got into trouble. What’s there for me to be sad about?

“Annoying little shit,” you swallow your pride and let him settle his head against your chest.

His presence melts into yours during the hardest hours of the twenty-four, heartbeats on heartbeats and warmth on warmth. Your one regret is that you’re unable to register his tears that night, only the incoherent, breathless hiccups almost as to desperately call out your name.

It’s been a month since Jisung’s lost his voice. And the night when he kisses you for the second time, his notepad is long forgotten next to your pillow.

I-can’t-talk. Give-me-a-break.

Jeongin. Cheesecake. Please? Pretty please?

I’ll fucking kick you.

Wait, there’s homework?!

...so you’re telling me LMAO isn’t how French people laugh?

“This is what you’ve been doing during breaks huh…” you mumble under your breath while lazily flipping through the papers. The occasional ‘I like you’-s do pop up every two pages or so, which is more than enough to make you smile like an idiot. But that is until a peculiar paragraph yanks your attention by its neck and tosses it against a brick wall.

Mom, promise me you’re not going to cry.

He made auntie cry?!

I lost my voice for real now but it wasn’t supposed to be like that at first. I just wanted to mess with Y/N and freak her out for a day.

I’m seriously going to punch him.

She was a lot softer toward me after that, you know. I know it’s extremely selfish of me but I just can’t help being so happy. I’m sorry, mom. I really am.

Han Jisung you fucking idiot.

I was going to surprise her on my birthday by saying ‘good morning’ out loud but nothing came out. My voice was gone.

Guilt, anger, remorse take over you. You knew nothing of this. You never once questioned for a logical reason behind the loss of his voice and kept moving onward as if it’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t suspect it as a kind of prank, either. But you still care, all this time! You have been doing everything in your power as a way for both you and Jisung to treasure himself even if he can’t speak anymore.

I went to a check-up last week. Nothing came up. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

However, without fail, the obnoxious part of you will keep wandering back to the concept of soulmates that has been engraved so deeply into the society you’re living in. It makes no sense to you that Jisung lost his voice for no reason right before his sixteenth birthday. This explains it all now.

It’s going to be okay, mom. Because I have Y/N. I know she would come running toward my side over and over again even if she can’t hear me anymore. I really don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.

Jisung knew the penalty for being the first to exchange any words of love yet he still did it. And you were too busy overlooking that stupid pride of yours to say those three words back.

It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to forget what I used to sound like. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

Jisung fixes the strap of his backpack, looking up at his mom after slipping into his sneakers. She ruffles his bed head and hands him a small white box with Jeongin’s bakery’s signature logo on it.

He tilts his head in faint confusion, peering at the box of pastry in his arms.

“Give it to Y/N on the bus, okay? Her parents aren’t home right now. You know how she would always skip breakfast when they’re out of town.”

His eyes light up instantly in realization and Jisung nods, preparing to bid her farewell. Just then, his front door comes flying open. It can’t be a mere acquaintance because there are very few people other than his parents and himself who know of the spare key hidden under the welcome mat.

As Jisung turns around, he’s keenly aware of your teary eyes already trained on him. Which in hindsight, makes no sense. As a result, panic rises within the hollowness of his chest, his lips falling agape but no coherent words come out.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” his mom flinches, slightly caught off guard, “Is everything okay?”

A scowl stretches over your contorted features as you shut the door loudly. “What the hell is this?” you question, shoving the familiar notepad into his chest. “A prank? A prank?! Do you think that this is funny?”

Jisung’s frantic eyes move to read the paper and every single color on his face drains tremendously. He easily recognizes the peculiar paragraph by how much lighter the ink is compared to the rest of the messy lines because his pen was running low and his hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Your voice.

His eyes avert back to look at you. His brows furrow timidly and shaky breaths burst from his lips almost like a desperate cry for help. There’s too much he wants to say, too many things to explain, and too many questions running through his head that he can’t process what to do next. He might just overwhelm both you and himself.

I need to hear it again.

And you might not stay by his side this time.

“Okay, don’t answer me then, I guess,” you chuckle lowly, dipping your head and turning around.

Jisung grabs at your sleeve instinctively and drops the pastry box, his gaze empty and all too knowing. Sorrow glazes over his starry eyes when it starts becoming hard to breathe properly. The outlines of his lips are moving non-stop yet nothing comes following after that.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you rasp out and tug at his hand. Then it hits you. He’s like this because of you. Jisung lost his voice because of you.

His mom cuts into the conversation, “Y/N, you don’t understand!”

“I’m sorry, auntie,” you smile sadly and take off running into the streets.

You, in the midst of your self-loathing and guilt, allow your feet to go wherever they want as your vision spirals into a blur. A single droplet threatens to fall when a forceful hand yanks you back to reality.

It takes Jisung a moment to regain his regular breathing pace. And when he finally gets it, all he can do is call out to you with the same inaudible sounds and the same desperation in his eyes. It seems as though he’s fully aware that the prank was the stupidest, most irrational thing he’s ever done. But there’s more to the ocean within his eyes than just remorse.

“I already told you,” you clench your jaw and slap his hand away, “I don’t fucking know what you’re saying!”

A deep sigh. “Why am I mad? Of course, I’d be mad! It’s because of me that you lost your voice! It’s because I like you, too! Yet I never said it back… You lost your voice because of me! Don't you get it? Why can't you just hate me for the sake of it?!”

You miss his voice. You miss it a lot.

You want to hear it again. You want to hear him call you by your name. You want to stay up late and talk about anything to the ends of the Earth and back with him. You want him to be the obnoxious, chatty Han Jisung you've always known.

You miss how annoyingly loud he is.

“Y-Y...Y/N…!”

Jisung collapses onto his knees, a hand on concrete while the other is on his neck. His chest rises and falls unevenly, muffled noises of discomfort echoing deep down from his throat. Despite that, what you heard just now, is his voice.

“Answer me when I call your name. So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“I promised you, didn’t I,” you spread your arms and smile warmly, “That I’d always answer when you call my name. As long as I can still hear you, I will come running toward you over and over again. Doesn’t matter what it takes, doesn’t matter where you are.”

Jisung lifts his head and tears come rolling down on his cheeks. His throat feels swollen when he stutters with difficulties, trying to convey what’s in his head, “Y-Y/N, don’t- don’t go! Please don’t leave me...!”

“Come here,” you close your eyes with the widest grin on your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Only when Jisung grows closer and throws his arms around you, sobbing into your uniform do you convince yourself that all of this isn’t a hallucination. The hug is a lot stronger than what you’d expect. First of all, you nearly fell over from the impact and your arms are pinned so tightly to your sides that you feel like your ribs are going to snap.

Everything is so overwhelming that all you can say is, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hair and loosens his arms a bit so you can loop your hands to the nape of his neck and hair.

“You’re so annoying, Han Jisung.”

He purses his lips, sniffling, “You tried to make me snap on purpose. Meanie.”

You quirk a playful brow, “Still like me now?”

“Yeah,” Jisung smiles, “A lot.”

Because he knows that he has you. Until every last star in the galaxy explodes as a supernova, Jisung has you.

402 notes · View notes

whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Text

Dealing With People Who Don't Care (Ticci Toby X F!Reader)

Dealing With People Who Don't Care

[Ticci Toby X F!Reader]

[Warnings: slight language and calls to violence? Bullying, slight yandere behavior]

[AN: Requested from ѕρσσку яανισlι on Quotev! Idk if I'm ready to tell y'all that this was basically my first quarter of college.]

College wasn’t supposed to be like this, at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. When you graduated from high school, you were told that petty drama and catty people were going to fade away because that was high school and this is college. Something new, something for young adults, and something you’d been looking forward to for far, far too long.

Truth be told, in high school, you didn’t really have any problems. You mostly got along with the people you did talk to and aside from a few arcs which you lovingly call ‘character development’, you generally kept your head down and to yourself which allowed you to stay off some of the cruller people’s radars. You were liked when it was necessary but ultimately stuck to yourself.

How did it all go so wrong?

When you first came in on orientation day, you’d met up with a group of girls and bonded on the train ride back to campus. There was a group chat made and you were a ready part of it. You felt nicely about your entire situation because these were nice girls, and they treated you like you held the sun and rose the moon. Is that what positive friendship was like?

For the first few weeks, everything with them was a bliss. Unfortunately, you were the only person from that group in your specific branch and major. This meant that you often spent most of your daylight hours alone or with yourself entirely. The other girls all had majors that were almost word for word the same, and that meant that they spent a lot of time together. Slowly, that had been growing closer and closer to each other and leaving you out.

It came in small doses at first, and you had chalked it up to your nature being so different from theirs. They were much more extroverted than you ever could have been. They were fire, and you were ice. But that did not mean that you were boring, or any less interesting, you were just quieter, preferring to take this just as softly. Wandering around the city with maybe one or two people, talking about the things that matter as opposed to getting wasted in a crowded apartment with fifty people who don’t even care about your wellbeing.

That’s what was different about you than them.

“Hey ladies,” you smile widely as you take your tray of food from the cafeteria to the table where all the girls sat. You notice that they’re all engrossed in conversation but quickly turn to greet you with smiles and waves.

“Hi, Reader! How has your day been?” Maria greets, her fingers gently tugging through her blonde hair. “Me and Georgina were just talking about you.”

Georgina nods and pats the seat next to her for you to sit down. “Yeah, what have you been up to?”

You take a seat next to the redhead and sip from your drink. “It was alright. With midterms coming up though… Little stressed,” you admit as the two girls sitting around you frown in response. “Lots of essays, some minor discussion posts, a group project but we’re just starting it early because it counts for like, 20 percent of our grade and is part of our final,” you say as you stab into your food.

“Oh? A group project?” Georgina asks with a raise of her eyebrow.

You nod. “It’s actually more like a partner project. I’m paired with this guy named Toby? But like, I haven’t seen him yet - he doesn’t show up to class,” you sigh.

“Maybe try emailing the professor,” Maria suggests. “But I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” she hums with a small smile, her hand reaching over and gripping yours warmly.

From there, the conversation that follows has you drifting away. By now, a third girl has joined the conversation and her name is Helena. Helena is also in the same class as you with the group project, but she isn’t as close to you as Georgina and Maria are. She greets you just as warmly but she turns the conversation in a direction you weren’t expecting.

Laughter rings out from the table.

“And that guy from last night?” Georgina giggles.

“He was insane!” Maria adds. “You have to come inside!” She mockingly says before bursting into another fit of giggles.

“And he dressed so weirdly,” Helena continues. “Ratty as all hell jacket and then followed us into the theatre? Asked to show us magic tricks-” she’s not even able to finish her words because she’s laughing much too hard.

You tilt your head slightly. “What happened last night?” You ask.

The girls pause for a moment. “Don’t worry about it,” Georgina says as she swats off your question. “You weren’t there.”

“This was last night?” You ask again.

They nod.

“Yeah, wasn’t anything special,” Maria attempts to shrug off before those three continue with their conversation and inside jokes.

You eat in silence, every now and then smiling and offering forced laughter as you think about what you did last night. You weren’t doing anything, in fact, your roommate went out on a date with her boyfriend and left you in the dorm all along. So, you finished your work a little early and started on some other things, then watched Netflix and fell asleep before midnight. You were free the entire night.

And they didn’t even think to invite you.

From there, you started to notice all the times they forgot about you and excluded you. It carried on in the sloughed off invites, the ‘sorry we can’t meet up for dinner,’ and generally just avoiding you. They had jokes they couldn’t share with you, and you were at their side, they acted like you weren’t even there until it faded into nothing.

Reader: Are you guys doing anything tonight?

Maria is typing…

Maria: no not tonight :(

Reader: oh okay! But if any of you want to come to Target with me or something..? Maria: sorry, I’m busy!

Georgina is typing…

Helena is typing…

After that, they’d left you on read, not even bothering to answer you. Later that night on snapchat, you saw the three of them wandering the city without you, laughing and having a good time.

Instead of talking to them right away, you focused on your classes and your work. And that meant finally tagging down toby.

You’d managed to finally get him in your sight after emailing your professor who struck some type of fear into him. You were able to meet him face to face at a little cafe somewhere off campus.

“Over h-here,” he calls out from near the window of the cafe, waving you towards the back.

You flash him a quick smile and let it fall before finally taking a seat across from him. You’re slightly surprised to see that there’s a cup of hot chocolate and a chocolate chip muffin is there waiting for you. “Oh, uh, thank you,” you say as you get comfortable.

“It’s n-nothing,” he says with a small smile. “I-I’m sorry for k-keeping you w-w-waiting all t-this time,” he continues in an apologetic tone. “T-Things with my f-family aren’t e-easy right n-now.”

Not wanting to push him, you nod and smile reassuringly. “It’s okay,” you relent. “So, this project..?”

“It’ll b-be a breeze,” he replies. “D-Don’t worry about i-it, yeah?” He picks up his own cup of hot chocolate to fight off the child of mid autumn and nods to you, his dark eyes scanning over your form. “I w-wanna know j-just who I’m w-working with.” He smirks slightly, the corners of his mouth pulling up like a know-it-all cat.

You look into your cup of hot chocolate and shrug. “Nothing too interesting,” you attempt to slide off.

Toby rolls his eyes. “Calling b-bull,” he snorts. “You l-look stressed. W-What’s on your m-m-mind?”

You sigh deeply and relax your body as you think back to the situation with those girls. “It’s nothing.”

Toby hums once more but does not push you. Deep down though, he knows something is wrong.

And that’s how it carries on. You and Toby meet every so often to work on your presentation and your paper together and your so called friends continually leave you in the dust. Before you know it, you’re spending more and more time with Toby than anyone else, and because of that, you don’t feel nearly as alone as you used to.

From Toby’s perspective, he would never tell you what he thought when he first saw you walk through those doors of the cafe to finally meet him in person.

When he first got that email in regards to him not showing up and worrying you, he’d rolled his eyes and pretended it didn’t matter. It was whatever, who cares? Apparently you. With a slight gripe in the back of his head, he looked you up on social media with the help of a friend named Ben and found all that he needed to know just by looking at your profile. He was almost ashamed to admit how enraptured with you he had become. That’s why he was so adamant you met him at a cafe, where he could spend time with just you.

When he saw you walking through the doors, his eyes scanned over every inch of you. You had a slight bounce in your walk despite it being so chilly.

He wondered if you wanted to be warmed up.

You looked so soft in his eyes, so sweet and so alluring. Just your looks alone was all he needed as water for a growing obsession.

Toby is addictive by nature. Seeing you was what allowed that addiction to take off. When he heard your voice? He felt like he was high.

He knew something was wrong with you when you sighed like that. It was a loaded sigh. Of course, after the two of you parted ways for the night and on good terms, he immediately dug into the lives of your so-called ‘friends.’ Let’s just say that damn near instantly, he did not like them.

Maria, a nursing major. He considered her an air head that wouldn’t get anywhere with substance, and saw that she was much more of a party girl than anything else.

Georgina, another nursing major. Also considered her a lost cause.

Helena, a medical assistant major. Toby considered her the worst one, but it didn’t come at first. He found that girl was vile in every sense. The things he’s overhead her saying about other people? Terrible. The things he’s overhead her saying about you? Absolutely unacceptable.

He noticed her whispers that cut like thorns wrapping around you from the shadows as he sat in class near her, but never next to her. He listened to the filth that poured from her mouth and was able to pick up the conversations from her phone like it was nothing.

And all of that? It lit a fire in him, a fire that would eventually burn her down and scorch her until she was nothing but ashes.

You’re about to head to class and present your final project with Toby. You look like a mess, and it’s not just from the lack of sleep because of your other class’s finals, but because you are absolutely emotionally drained and have nothing left to give. You’d finally formally broken up from those girls, but it did not come without tears.

Reader: hey guys, it’s been a little while, but I just wanted to get some things off of my chest before I call it. First and foremost, I want to thank you for the time we did spend together, but I don’t feel safe or happy anymore. These past few weeks have been nothing but straight ice and being left out and I’m just… I’m tired, for a lack of better words. I know that you don’t really want me around anymore, so I thought I’d just nip this one in the bud before it got out of hand or anything like that. I just - whatever, I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done to offend you.

Georgina is typing…

Georgina: Honestly don’t take this the wrong way but you legitimately brought this all onto yourself.

Georgina: you don’t really talk to us the way that we talk to each other

Reader: but you literally never gave me a chance???

Maria: shes right tho,,,,, like, you just always kept to yourself. You didnt really give us anything to go off of

Georgina: right??? And it’s not like she’d actually do any of the things we wanted to do either

Reader: I’m sorry but like, I offered for you guys to come do some things with me and I even asked for you to tell me when you guys were making plans - I would have gone out

Helena: does it even matter now though? You brought literally all of this onto yourself there’s no use for you to just beg us for you to come back lol. Just stop while you’re ahead

Helena: you were never really there to begin with tbh you just kinda existed

Maria: exactly that! Like im glad we’re getting stuff off our chest because omg did you get on my nerves. Always quiet and just watching??? Never saying anything??

Georgina: RIGHT It was like a literal ghost in the room LMFAO

Reader: are you fucking serious right now?

Reader: you’re going to act like this?

Maria: you brought it on yourself

Helena: it was bound to happen

Reader: I cannot believe you guys are acting like such assholes right now

Maria: you did it first though?????

Helena: ^^^^

Georgina: ^^^^

From there, the conversation had delved into them throwing all of their problems onto you. It honestly felt like projecting, but you had a class to go to and project to present and no time to cry.

You wiped your tears, got ready for the day and headed out to your building from out of your dorm. Soon, you would be on break and away from this place that’s driving you up a wall.

You walked across campus and plastered a faint smile on your face as you continued to move through the nippy air. You enjoyed seeing the leaves as they danced on the flowing air and eventually kissed the sidewalk. You could smell pumpkin spice and the remnants of November. What a beautiful season.

Waiting for you outside of Wendell’s Hall was Toby, hands in his pockets as he leaned up against the wall just beside the door.

“Were you waiting for me?” You ask with a small smile.

“Maybe,” he hums with a small smirk. “C-C’mon, it’s a little c-chilly out here,” he says as he gently shuffles you inside after opening the door for you. He watches you carefully as you walk through the halls and find the elevator to get to the sixth floor.

As the two of you wait for the doors to open, Toby checks you over.

“What?” You say with a small chuckle.

“J-Just checking,” Toby hums. “A-Are you okay?” He asks as the doors open. He nods for you to go in first, and then follows in directly after. He watches your finger press the button for six.

“Why?”

“You s-seem a l-little tense,” he says as he looks over you again, his eyes narrowing in on yours. “I-Is it the p-presentation?”

You hold your hand out and make a ‘so-so’ motion. “I guess,” you reply, attempting to shove off anything that might make you cry again. Your eyes are a little dark, and your skin is still soft from the saline, raw from you rubbing those pearls of water with your sleeves repeatedly.

“You w-wanna talk a-about it l-later?” He asks softly, his hand resting warmly on your shoulder as he brings you into his side.

You look up at him and smile. “We’ll see.”

When the doors open, you and Toby quickly make it to your class and are pleased to see there’s spots open and the two of you can sit together. Toby is quick to snag the seats for the both of you and his warm expression falls when he sees Helena waltzing into the room.

Helena sits a little ways from where you and Toby sit before she wiggles her fingers at you like a nonverbal smile before actually turning her lips up in a fake saccharine smile.

You shift uncomfortably and instead focus on your presentation. You feel a little nervous, mostly because Helena is here and this is also a big chunk of your grade. You’re academically passing with flying colors, but a hiccup like this could spell something bad. You breathe out deeply when you feel Toby’s hand resting on your shoulder, grounding you.

“We g-g-got this,” he says with a small smile, squeezing you lightly. “You w-wwanna get it out of the w-w-ay?”

“No,” you reply suddenly. “I just want to see how this goes.”

Toby nods and turns his attention to the other students that continue to walk through the door. “A-Anything for y-y-you,” he says softly.

You barely hear it, but you smile all the same.

Presentations pass in a pretty boring manner. Your professor seems pleased with everyone that presents, and she offers praise and saves the criticism for emails, but so far, it seems like everyone is doing well! You’re almost fully calm by the time you raise your hand to present but when Helena and her partner begin snickering, your heart sinks to your knees.

“Alright, you two are good to go,” your professor says with a warm, reassuring smile on her face after she pulls up your project on the overhead projector. “Giving the remote to Miss Reader, whenever you two are ready.” She holds the remote out to you and then whispers ‘you’re gonna do great’ before taking her seat in the front row.

You silently thank her for her reassurance and then turn your attention to Toby, who begins the presentation.

You make sure to speak clearly and concisely as you present your project, paying close attention to detail and everything that was outlined on the rubric. You watch your professor’s expression light up brighter and brighter as you carry on with your half of the presentation. It seems that she’s really pleased with the both of you, but especially you!

Your big hiccup comes when the questions part of your presentation comes up.

See, prior to this, the questions portion had been empty and pretty dead. But of course, because Helena is here, she’s dead set on making you flop.

When she starts firing questions, you and Toby answer them to the best of your abilities. Admittedly, you are more than mentally dead at this point. With every question that Helena digs into you, you feel your brain cells dying off at an even faster rate. The lights of the projector bore into you and make you dizzy. You’re just… exhausted.

Helena finally poses a question that makes your face heat up. “So?” She taunts, her eyes looking at you innocently. “I just wanna know,” she continues, her eyes flashing.

You should be able to answer this. It’s so simple and right there in your bank of knowledge you just can’t open the vault.

“Miss Reader..?” Your professor quietly asks, pulling you from your thoughts. “Are you able to-” You shake your head, feeling numb and cold all at the same time. “I’m sorry, no,” you whisper. It was one of the first things you learned in the class and one of the most important.

Your professor nods and mouths, ‘don’t worry,’ before turning to the rest of her class. “Alright then, you two are dismissed. Give them a round of applause for their work.”

The applause surrounds you but you do not feel it, and when you move back to your seat, you can’t help but feel embarrassed. The looks that you get from those around you are of pity and ‘she hasn’t learned anything this quarter, has she?’ It makes your face burn with embarrassment and you feel so unnaturally warm because of it. A rush of emotions comes over you when you see Helena’s shifty glances and hear her insipid giggles and you hurriedly get your things together and bolt out of the classroom.

Toby shoots up when you rush out and he’s not able to catch you. Instead, he sits in for the rest of the class to give you some space and anything else the professor may say. His glare is turned on Helena. When she flashes him that same sickly sweet, mocking smile, he sees red.

Class ends shortly after that, the professor clearly uncomfortable with whatever just happened with Helena and Toby is keeping his ire hidden until what comes after he deals with you. He’s got a few choice things in mind he’d like to do to Helena, mostly spinal disfigurement and popping bones from their joints and scattering them across the country, but he knows he has to play this as slimy as she did. He’s already conjuring up ways to academically cripple her.

Toby pushes those thoughts to the side before he makes his way to your dorm. He’s nodding to the guy at the front desk and running up the stairs to find you faster than his thoughts can even gather. He just wants to make sure you’re okay.

He walks through the hall of your floor before going over the room numbers. He’s only been in your dorm once - the two of you tend to spend time with each other outside of the campus. Twenty four hour McDonalds, out and about in the city, public parks, the two of you just like wandering. When he sees the numbers of your dorm, he internally sighs and knocks. “H-Hey, Reader? Y-You in t-t-there?” He asks as he knocks again.

From inside, you shuffle underneath your sheets. He’s here? You don’t answer.

“I j-just want to make s-sure you’re alright,” he continues in a soft voice. “If you n-need space though, I c-c-can go-” he barely makes the motion to move when you open the door just a crack.

You look up at Toby with dark, puffy eyes. You can’t bring yourself to say anything, but he can see that you’ve been through hell and back emotionally. You look like a mess, in less graceful words.

“Oh g-gods,” he murmurs as you push open the door just a bit more. “R-Reader,” he says softly as he takes you into his arms, his shoe gently pushing the door closed as you wrap your arms around his waist, taking in the scent of graphite and sandalwood as you sob into his chest. “What h-happened, s-sweetheart?” He asks softly as he rocks the two of you back and forth.

You continue to cry into his chest and grip onto the back of his hoodie as he gently maneuvers you to the side of your bed to let your tired body rest. “S-She’s so mean!” You cry as you continue to squeeze your eyes shut, still gripping Toby like he’s the only thing grounding you.

“What h-have they d-d-done to you?” He inquires in a tone just a little louder than a whisper. Internally, he knows he’ll make all three of those demons suffer and leave the school, by any means necessary. He just wants to hear it from you to know how hard he needs to fuck up their lives. Judging by this interaction alone? It’s monumental.

You then go into a painful detailing of everything those girls have ever made you feel, at one point even bringing up the chats you have saved on your phone. Your breathing begins to even, but Toby’s vision grows redder and redder.

He listens to everything you say as you recount your pain to him and he grits his teeth. Especially those chats - those are unforgivable.

You’re exhausted by the time you finally finish telling him everything they’ve made you feel and the things they’ve done to make you feel this way. You finish it with just a few more words. “They make me feel so small,” you admit through sniffles and broken breaths. “They just - they made me feel so left out and so insignificant,” you admit, still wiping away tears.

Toby holds you tighter before one of his hands reaches up to cup your cheek. “N-No! You’re n-not insignificant, you’re e-everything and m-more,” he begins to ramble. “Y-You’re s-s-so smart and p-put together and o-on top of i-it,” he continues, his thumb wiping away your residual tears.

“You’re just saying that-”

“I w-would never,” he cuts you off in a tone that’s more serious than he intended. “I m-mean everything I s-s-say and those g-girls suck. They d-don’t hold a candle to you,” he says as he cups your face.

“Toby…”

Toby hushes you by pressing a soft, almost scared he might spook you kiss to your lips as if he’s testing the waters. When you make no motion to fight him, he presses just a little more fervently before pulling away, leaving you with stars in your eyes. “I’ll handle e-e-everything, okay?” He promises softly, watching as the stars fade to exhaustion. “G-Get some r-r-rest,” he coos.

You allow him to lay you down as he moves the blankets to cover you before he gets up to turn off the lights. “You’re going to handle it?” You whisper as you allow sleep to veil over your body.

“Y-Yes, I’ll handle e-e-everything,” he promises again, flicking the lights off.

Toby fumbles through the dark for just a moment before slipping back into bed with you, allowing you to wrap around him like an octopus. He cradles you in his arms, his lips pressing to your forehead. “Sleepy t-time,” he mumbles as you cuddle into his chest.

You smile softly and feel your body go light, only anchored by Toby’s warm embrace.

#ticci toby #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby x reader #x reader #reader insert #angst with a happy ending #angst #light angst #toby creepypasta

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glacial-snowflakes · 3 years

Text

Subtle hum of the Hudson River - part 2 // Loki

A/N: Hi darlings! I'm sorry for not posting but I kind of don't have that much time rn :( I'm so so sorry! I hope you like it! <3

Here is part 1

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Word count: 2,5k

Summary: You and Loki take a stroll down the river, letting yourself be honest with each other. The words you spoke have an unexpected result.

WARNINGS: it's all fluff, don't you worry!; parts written like this are retrospection

Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. It’s really motivating <3

Outrage and disgust filled every little whisper he heard. The team's looks were so sharp that they could cut one's skin open. Sighs full of hatred. Snarky remarks, supposedly innocent, yet hurt like hell. Why would anyone care about God of Mischief? Yes, he might live in the Tower, and yes, he might call himself one of the Avengers now, but he would never belong. Never. Not after what he did.

"They will never trust me, won't they?" Loki asked Thor, his sight focused on a cup he was holding in his frozen hands. The tea wasn't hot anymore. It went cold just like his heart that had never known the warmth of love. Trickster raised his eyes to meet Thor's. God of Thunder could swear that for a moment, he saw despair painted onto his brother's pale face. "I thought you didn't care about them nor their attitude towards you."

"I don't." The raven-haired man said immediately but seeing his brother's smile made him speak the truth. "I hate the way they look at me. I know what I did, and I deserve it. It's just— Nevermind." Loki sighed and took a sip of his cold tea. Speaking about his feelings was never his strong suit. Opening up to someone and spilling his guts felt like a nightmare he didn't want to experience at all costs. Runaway was the best choice.

"If you want to gain their trust, start with Lady Y/N. She's the most perfect for being the first one to break the ice with. Believe me." Thor gave his brother a clap on the back and nodded. "Go on."

"She's holding a knife right now. I am the one who stabs, not the one to be stabbed." Loki muttered. Thor's look said everything. In response, God of Mischief just rolled his eyes, stood up, and slowly approached you. You seemed so focused on the meal you were preparing that you didn't even notice him at first. He cleared his throat. "Lady Y/N."

You snapped out of the trance you were in just a few seconds ago. You lifted a knife you were holding in your hand. It was all covered up in ice, even sharper than the kitchen utensil itself. You held it up in front of your face as you were breathing rather heavily, scared of the sudden voice that made you come back to earth with a bump. Loki could swear that for a moment, your eyes turned impeccably white, just like the snow you could summon whenever you wanted.

"I— I'm so sorry, I didn't want to scare you. I truly mean it." Loki said immediately, waving his hands, the visible awkwardness painted onto his face.

"No, no! It's not your fault." You smiled to assure him that everything was fine. "Whenever I'm cooking, I'm in a trance. Just me, food, my mind free of all the bad thoughts that have been haunting me." You waved your hand in which you were holding a knife, and the ice melted away, just like that, not leaving any mark behind. Loki gave you a subtle nod and asked. "What are you cooking?"

"Oh, I won't tell you." You blurted out, which was followed by the awkward silence. "It's because I'm making my secret dish. Y/N's secret delicacy. No one knows what's inside except me." You explained in the blink of an eye. Loki seemed to be a little bit confused. Oh boy, you weren't good at small talks either. "If you want to, you can stay and sit here. We can talk about whatever you want or, if not, we can sit there in silence. It depends on you."

A sweet, delicate smile appeared on your face. You knew it was hard for Loki. You could see that. You noticed these quick looks he was giving whenever someone whispered his name. You noticed his need to be included when you were in a group, but everybody seemed to be ignoring him. Nobody wanted him to participate in meetings or conversations. He was in a crowd, yet he felt like he was all by himself. You saw all of this, and it made you feel bad. You knew what he did, but in the end, he was one of you now. Every god could bleed, and it hurt you to watch.

You wanted to make the raven-haired man feel better. Even if you were the only one to do this and every other person was about to judge you, you wanted Loki to feel included, to feel important. You promised yourself that it would be YOU who will make Loki feel welcomed, welcomed in a place where everyone pushed him away.

"Can I ask what your exact powers are?" Loki started the conversation, and you couldn't help but smiled. He truly wanted to talk with you. How adorable.

"I'm a demigod with cryokinetic powers. It would take a lot to talk about my abilities, but I will tell you that my favorite one is making ice daggers. Quick and simple, though it took some time to master the perfect shape." You chuckled. "Learning to aim ideally in a battle to cut through a chest and freeze someone's heart was the most problematic part."

"I didn't know you are so violent and tough."

"I am not... I guess I pretend to be." You said quietly, not looking upon a cutting board. A deep sigh escaped your mouth. "You know, it's not a job for everyone. Sometimes I'm too gentle for that."

You didn't let the silence last forever, as you immediately asked. "How do you find yourself here? Do you like the Tower?"

"Ah, you know... It has changed since the last time I visited." Loki said, clearly ashamed of all the damage he did back in 2012. Till these days, the thought of the Chitauri ravaging New York gave you the shivers. It was a very demanding and traumatizing first day of work as the Avenger.

"A renovation was a must." You joked; to clear the air and shoo away the atmosphere that was creeping towards you. "What about your room?"

"If you can call a small couch in Thor's bedroom my room, then I guess it's okay."

"You sleep on Thor's couch?" It was something that surprised you and not in a good way. You got that Loki wasn't everyone's favorite member, but there was a ton of empty bedrooms in the Tower in which he could live.

The God of Mischief nodded. "It's not that bad."

"I don't care. I will talk to Tony. You have to have your own bedroom. It's not like you can sleep on his couch forever. It's not comfortable in the long run." Loki opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. "I've got it covered, don't worry."

There was something in talking to you that made Loki feel at home. The way you looked at him; gave him the sweetest and prettiest smiles he has ever seen. There was no hate in your voice, no disgust that he's been experiencing on a daily basis since he could remember. You actually treated him like a human being, despite everything he has ever done. There was only one person he knew with such a kind heart, and you reminded him of her; you reminded him of Frigga.

"You know..." Loki begun. "I feel like you are the only one that doesn't want to cut my throat or stab my heart with my dagger."

You smiled gently. "I think you deserve a second chance."

"And why is that?"

"This is a story for another time."

***

"Where do you think you two are going?" Tony asked when you and Loki approached the elevator. God of Mischief gave him a quick stare before pushing the button with an arrow pointing down. You turned your head to face Tony, who was making himself a coffee. "We're going on a walk." You answered with a smile on your face.

"It's almost midnight."

"Said a man with a cup of coffee in his hand." You chuckled. "We're going to be fine. He's a god, and I'm a demigod. Nothing bad will happen to us."

You knew that it wasn't you who Tony was worried about; he still didn't trust Loki. When you joined the Avengers, you were one of the youngest in the group. Fresh blood, you could say. Stark watched you growing from an impulsive, careless kid with ice powers to a deliberate adult, a demigod aware of her cryokinetic strength. Seeing you change over the years, he felt responsible for your life. Even if Man of Iron knew you could handle yourself, Loki was too powerful. Tony refused to believe in his change, and with it, he was afraid that the Trickster was purely playing with you. If only they saw Loki as you did.

A few minutes later, you two were strolling down the New York. Just you, Loki, and the subtle hum of the Hudson River that made your troubled hearts feel at peace. Slowly paced steps. Your knuckles barely brushing each other woke up armies of butterflies in your stomachs that went on war. If you were bold enough, you would grab his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers together, holding him like it was the end of the world. It was something you truly wanted from the moment Thor brought him into the group.

"So..." Loki cleared his throat. "If you want to, we can talk or, if not, we can walk in silence. It depends on you."

"I'm not ready, not yet... I'm sorry."

"Don't you ever be sorry for not being ready to talk about your feelings, Lady Y/N." Loki grabbed your wrist and made you stop your steps. "Ever, okay?"

Something was mesmerizing in his beautiful eyes and a worried smile. Something that made your heart beat faster; palms get sweaty and clammy. Something that made you agree to everything he said. It was like a trick, but not like the ones he did from time to time to piss of Thor or Tony. No.

You snapped out of it and nodded. "Okay." You said and took your wrist from his hand. You began to walk again with Loki by your side when he asked. "Lady Y/N. A few months ago, I had asked why I deserve a second chance. You'd never gave me an answer. I'd still like to know."

You smiled, looking at the tiny waves on the river. "I knew you'd asked that sooner or later. I think I can finally tell you why I think this way." Your eyes focused on his face now. "Okay... Let me tell you something. It's not a surprise that you've made some pretty bad decisions in your life, and you've hurt a lot of people. You think you're a monster, and you don't deserve to be loved. You were never more wrong.

"In this group, you probably won't find one spotless person. We are people that made huge mistakes. You don't have to look far." You grabbed his hand without thinking. It was an impulse that just felt right. "I was a reckless kid when I got these powers. No one was there to guide me through them, learn how to be in control. And to a bullied kid like me, it was something that made me feel better than others. I was the one on the top. With my mortal mum that couldn't handle the demigod kid and my godly father that had so many half-blood children he didn't give a shit about, no one could stop me. The bullied became the bully. I don't like to call myself that, but this is true. I went through hell, and I made sure they felt the same way. I'm not proud of it, but that is who I was.

"So you have me. And then there's former HYDRA's witch, a billionaire who made deadly weapons, former Russian spy, former HYDRA's most famous brainwashed assassin and etcetera. Welcome, you're just as messed up as we are. Being here with us is your chance to become a better man. You belong here, Loki. Trust me."

At that moment, something broke inside of him. For a second, he stopped being a mysterious, private God of Mischief that didn't want to let in anybody. He let go of all the concerns and worries that had been occupying his mind for far too long. He threw away the image of a monster he considered himself to be.

The words you spoke made him realize that as long as you were next to him, there was nothing he couldn't do. You were the key to his pure heart from the beginning. You were the answer he'd been looking for all along. You were the light that could sweep away the darkness that'd been consuming him from within, and he wanted you to shine beside him forever.

When Loki leaned over to your ear, all you could feel was his warm, shaky breath on your neck that sent the shivers down your spine. "Don't hate me for this." He whispered almost inaudibly as his hands found their way to your hips. His long, lean fingers quite roughly pressed onto your skin. Just like electricity, his touch pierced through your whole body, made your knees get weaker. Your senses were fogged, almost like you were under control. All you could focus on was how his mellowy soft lips felt against yours. The kiss was sweet and passionate, yet gentle at the same time. It wasn't hasty and rough like you'd expect it to be, no. There was something else, something special about it. It was Loki's way to describe every little feeling he had for you. Your adorable smiles you'd been giving him, slight touches you didn't even think he noticed, tea and sympathy. It was all for what he wanted to return the favor.

For a moment, you weren't sure if this was real. Was it just a pure imagination of your mind that was thirsty for love and affection? Or maybe it was a trick, fake reality that you'd fallen for so naively? No, it couldn't be. You could feel it. Feel your heart crazily pounded like it wanted to escape the cage in which it was held for far too long. It was the only thing that helped you stay sober.

You didn't want to stop this. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, scared that once it ended, it would never come back.

"Loki..." You started when you two pulled out to catch a breath. "I could never hate you for making my dreams come true."

The raven-haired man didn't say anything. In response, he wrapped his arms around your still weak body and brought you even closer, so there was no space left between you and him. You felt his chin gently placed on the top of your head. With a smile on your face, you embraced him tightly and snuggled your face onto his chest. All that you heard was his heart pounding fast in the same rhythm as yours, as the subtle hum of the Hudson River accompanied your feelings growing for each other at that moment.

tag: @handmaiden-of-mischief @amiechuchu

#loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki x you #loki imagine #loki oneshot #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki #loki laufeyson imagine #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson x you #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #avengers x y/n #loki x avenger reader #avengers x you #avengers x reader

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seasonofthewicth · 3 years

Text

nobody does it like you do - act 3

Here is act 3!!! Thank you so much for all of your enthusiasm so far! Hope you enjoy :)

8.6k - masterlist - ao3

Aelin has never really thought of herself as someone with a lot of friends. She’s always had Elide, Aedion and Lysandra, but they almost fall into a separate category. Like what they’ve been through surpasses friendship, and she thinks at this point Elide and Lysandra are as much her family as Aedion.

Throughout her years in the industry she hasn’t made many friends, Chaol and Dorian are probably the only two, but she's learned how things work. It didn't take her long to realise that all the girls she met at auditions, and bonded with over all of the things they had in common, would have stabbed her right in the back at the earliest opportunity.

It's cutthroat, but she can't say she's never succumbed to the temptations.

She’d be lying if she said she’d never pretended she was there to audition for another character just to get the other actress to spill her analysis of the character. She can’t say it was unintentional when she’d leave the audition room and then pretend to take a phone call where she’d discuss how pleased the casting director had been with her take and had promised to call, watching the faces fall of the other hopefuls she waltzed past.

She can’t say she’d never do it again.

That said, she feels like she has a good thing going with Fenrys, Manon and Rowan. They've hung out a couple of times and she likes them admittedly more than she thought she would at first. The dynamic is fast and snappy, funny and sarcastic, and she can feel herself getting back into the old motions.

Aelin knows they’re friends now, and it feels really fucking good, but she has one concern. She’s not entirely sure that what she feels for Rowan can be described as friendship and she’s kicking herself for letting it happen. The physical attraction she can excuse, he looks how he looks and she’s defenseless against that, but the rest? The rest is where she’s really let herself go.

He’s opened up to them a lot more now, and they spend a lot more time together than they did at the start. Just last week she had thrown herself into her seat at the end of a long day of shooting and plunked her feet in his lap. She had expected him to throw them off and growl something at her, but he had simply rested his left hand on her ankle and continued to scroll through his phone with his right.

It had felt far too easy to settle into his touch, and far too enjoyable to have the heat of his skin against her own.

Even so, there’s a level of detachment to his interaction with them. He falls somewhere between bemused dad and despairing lecturer tasked with herding a group of unruly children through a life or death venture. He curses actors all day long but he’s just as dramatic. There are moments when she catches him beginning to smile at a comment from Fenrys or the bickering she and Manon do before he halts himself and seems to rein it back in.

She wants to see him grin.

It’s kind of weird to think back to the first week of shooting and how unsure she felt around them, how insecure she was of her own ability compared to theirs, but by now she’s pretty sure she’s past the worst of that and she doesn’t want to waste any more time doubting herself, at least in comparison to them. It helps when Rowan makes little comments like nice job, Aelin or when she catches the nod he does after she nails a scene, especially when he tries to hide it.

She posted a picture on Instagram of the four of them from set last week, her and Manon crouched at the front wrapped up again in the massive coats they give them on set, their faces almost completely covered by the puffed up collars, and Rowan and Fenrys stood behind them, their arms crossed across their chests and faces twisted into overly dramatic imitations of anger. It had taken some pleading and possible bribery from Fenrys to get Rowan to agree to the pose, but they had succeeded in the end.

She had captioned it so we stole their coats… and tagged each of them, watching as the likes came flooding in. Only seconds later the comments had begun to run a bit wild.

This is going to be so good I can already tell.

fenrys looks so hot fuck me up

ARMS!ARMS!ARMS!ARMS!

Are they dating?

She stopped reading the comments pretty quickly after that.

They’re about a third of the way into shooting, and Aelin knows what she’s accomplished so far is some of her best work. It hasn’t been easy, but she’s put hours and hours of her time into understanding her character and she feels like she truly knows Feyre, and almost sees some of herself in her. There are differences of course, Aelin isn’t quite as naive as Feyre or as forgiving, but they’ve both been dealt a shitty hand, and Aelin likes to think she’s working just as hard as Feyre to pick herself back up.

She finishes the take, and slaps her usual high-five against Fenrys’ palm and sends her regular nod over to Rowan. Good? Her nod asks. Good, his own gesture returns. She tucks her smile away as she begins to wander over to where he’s stood chatting with a producer.

She’s built a habit of going over to him once they finish shooting, she wants to seek him out constantly, and she feels drawn to him in a way that she’s beginning to lose the fight against. She’s about halfway towards him when she spots a tall head of brown hair making its way towards her.

She barely has time to process before there are a pair of strong arms around her waist and she’s being lifted up and swung around, her feet dangling inches above the ground.

“Hello, superstar.” His voice is deep in her ear and she can feel the vibrations where she buries her face into his neck.

“Gods! I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.”

She gasps as he places her back down on the ground and she can finally smile up at Chaol. Taking in the chestnut-brown of his hair and the faint creases beginning at the corners of his rich brown eyes. Gods, she’s missed him.

She’s known he’d be visiting the set at some point. The Crescent City is his baby, a script he’s been working on for years, and she knows he couldn’t stomach leaving it all to Rowan without any supervision.

He had first mentioned it to her a few years ago, but back then it was nothing more than an idea. Aelin knew he had been chipping away at it in the background for a while and it wasn’t a surprise when he first sent it to her. It’s different now though, now that there’s a budget and a set and actual progress made in getting it on screen.

It feels like a big deal to her; she can’t imagine how Chaol feels.

She had never dreamed though, through all of their midnight conversations about it and their half-dreaming out loud discussions, that she would be the one to star in it.

Chaol just grins at her, a twinkle in his eyes that she knows means he’s happy, and says “thought I’d surprise you.”

“It’s definitely a surprise.” She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck for a second time. She squeezes him tight and breathes him in, his smell is comforting and it makes her feel young again. “How long are you here for?”

He gives her waist a short squeeze, reminding her that his hands are still resting there with hers still up on his shoulders. It’s not the closest she’s ever been to him, and it doesn’t cross her mind for her touching him so freely to be an issue.

“A couple of days.” He smiles down at her again. “Lunch?”

“Of course, let me change first?” She asks, releasing his shoulders and turning to walk back to her trailer. He holds a hand out, as if to say lead the way.

She sets off as he follows, and she can feel the lightness of the wide smile across her face. It’s a kind of comfort now that Chaol is here, he’s taken care of her for so many years and his presence grounds her in a way she hasn’t really found with many other people.

Rowan still stands with the producer behind where some of the team are tinkering with the filming equipment. His brow is drawn into a frown and the producer standing with him has begun to look profoundly uncomfortable.

The take was good, she knows that, and when he runs a jagged hand over his face a jolt of concern strikes her. He looks anguished, or frustrated, and she wonders how he’s soured so quickly after the silent exchange they shared mere moments ago.

His gaze snaps to hers and it’s a powerful thing. His stare weighs heavily into her, so much so she wants to look away and her steps falter. The stumble is barely perceptible, but she sees it and thinks maybe he does too. There’s something thorny in the pull of his brows and the twist of his mouth and she wants to go over, ease his troubles, but that’s not her place. And Chaol is inches behind her following her lead.

Rowan’s eyes flick to Chaol and his mouth twists further. And not to get ahead of herself yet again, but surely not, right? His gaze switches back to rest on her, only for a second longer before he mouths something short and sharp to the producer and disappears.

Aelin shakes it off. She might think they’re friends, but as has become her mantra, he’s her boss. What she needs is something gentle and simple and uncomplicated. In the real world, everything she wants from Rowan is decidedly complicated.

Sitting opposite Chaol is a place she’s been many times before. More often than not, Dorian would have taken up the mantle at Chaol’s side, the pair of them closer than brothers. They have the kind of relationship she thinks truly cannot exist for people other than the two of them.

The level of understanding they share, the lengths they would go to for each other, it’s unparalleled and she longs to find a bond like that one day.

When she was younger being sat in a position like this, opposite Chaol, so close they could whisper to converse, would have been a dream. She had a bit of an infatuation with him when she first met him; he was a few years older than her, charming, handsome and calming. He had been her entrance to the world she lives in now and he had kept her safe and taken care of her.

She had thought he was everything she wanted.

She had realised pretty quickly, after going in for an ill advised kiss that he had swerved, that that would never be an option for them. He had let her down kindly and gently, which she appreciates now, even if it felt like a blow at the time.

He hadn’t let her pull back from him though, he had kept her close until she eventually got over the embarrassment and was able to look at him without blushing. It’s not something she dwells on now, she was young and naive and she could have done a lot worse than Chaol.

He was who she had gone to when she had met Sam. She had waxed poetic to him about the boy with the curly brown hair and the shy smile. She smiles lightly to herself at the thought of him, what he would make of where she’s at now.

He’d kiss her cheek with his arms around her waist, boasting how his girl, his baby, was a star in the making. She swallows the thought, struck by both the image and the lingering pain it brings, but also by the knowledge that she’s gone a couple of days without thinking of him.

She hasn’t thought of the boy with the brown eyes in a few days, hasn’t woken up screaming in even more. She breathes past the panic that threatens in her throat, both at the idea that she hasn’t thought of Sam for a while and the reasons there could be for that.

“How is the love of my life?” She focuses back on Chaol and watches him try very hard not to choke on his mouthful of his drink.

He had picked the cafe, even though she’s been in Rifthold for a while it is still far more his space than hers, and he knows the hidden gems like this that she isn’t privy to yet. It’s rustic and cosy, the brick walls have colourful bunting draped between them and none of the chairs inside match. She’ll have to come back if the food is good, the atmosphere inside is relaxed and busy enough that she can feel completely anonymous. She doesn’t want to leave, maybe next time she can bring a book.

“My beautiful wife is well,” he manages once he swallows, and she smirks at how he knows exactly what she’s asking. “Almost past the second trimester now, and still refusing to slow down.”

That sounds exactly like Yrene. She says as much and Chaol nods wearing the expression of a man who, if he didn’t love his wife so much, would be tired of chasing after her.

Yrene is a whirlwind of energy and efficiency and it’s why she’s one of Aelin’s favourite people. She’s full of exciting tales and inspiration, that is, when she can get Yrene to slow for a second enough to catch up. She probably doesn’t need her high paced job as a doctor in Rifthold General Hospital, like, Chaol’s scripts are successful, he’s won a number of awards that sit in a special cabinet in their house, but that’s just how Yrene is.

Caring and kind and so, so smart. If Aelin didn’t do what she does, she’d love to be like Yrene.

“Second trimester?” She cries. “He’s almost here!”

Chaol is again at risk of choking. “Aelin, please. I still have a few months left to get ready.”

He looks almost panicked and she scoffs. “Chaol, please.” She mocks his tone perfectly and ignores the eye roll he gives her. “You were born ready. You’ve basically raised me for the past few years and look how well I’m doing.”

He laughs, and she smiles, it’s exactly the reaction she wanted.

“I’m not sure that’s the glowing compliment you think it is,” He says dryly and she just pokes her tongue out at him.

“Chaol,” she begins, seriously this time. “You are already the best dad I know, you’ll be fine. And if not, the baby has Yrene, so he’ll definitely be fine.”

He doesn’t bite on any of it, just looks bashfully to the table cloth and nods. She can’t resist one last comment.

“And even then, he’ll have me and Dorian.”

“Gods, Aelin. The thought will send me to an early grave.”

She tilts her head to the side and sketches a flip of her hair over her shoulder. The combination of her and Dorian and a baby probably would give Chaol a heart attack but she’ll embody her role as the cool aunt, and Dorian can more than handle the cool uncle.

“Do you not want your child to be cool?” She knows he’s barely finding her funny at this point but she’s missed him and she loves winding him up.

He’s saved from having to respond by the arrival of their food. She stares longingly at his burger and greasy side of fries and forces herself to take a mouthful of her wilted salad.

After a few bites she notices his expression, something pinched around the corners of his mouth, and she knows there's something he wants to say.

To say that Chaol is less invested in her sobriety than Aedion and Lysandra would be a lie, but he doesn’t question it as openly as they do, so she doubts what he wants to say is anything to do with that. She’s ordered an orange juice to spice it up, and he has a tap water that he ordered without question so she thinks he mustn’t be concerned.

“What?” She says slowly, whatever it is she wants to know, and the pain of waiting for him to spit it out was almost too much.

He shakes his head and pops another fry into his mouth. She can’t resist stealing one and a swipe of ketchup off his plate.

He begins carefully, after using his napkin to dab at the corner of his mouth. “How is it going? You read the script pretty early on, do you think…”

He trails off, and seems to pause while he considers his words, but she doesn’t need him to finish.

“Chaol, I think it’s going really well,” she says and it’s sincere. “And it’s not just because I’m in it.”

It’s far easier to crack jokes and reassure others than it is to be the one being reassured.

He shoots her an unimpressed look, but she knows her words have done their job. Even through her faults she knows he trusts her judgement.

“I feel like you asked that in a way that meant you thought it wasn’t going well.”

She’s fishing a little, but Chaol is a gossip at heart, even worse than Dorian despite how he’d deny it.

He sees right through her, but relents as he takes another bite of his burger. She stabs another bundle of lettuce, dipping it in a pool of dressing resting in the bottom of her bowl as he swallows and speaks.

“I didn’t think it would go badly, but Fenrys Moonbeam has a bit of a reputation, and I just hope he’s taking it seriously. I put a lot of work into it.” He pauses and Aelin just waits. It doesn’t seem like he’s quite done. “Rowan Whitethorn too. But I think his reputation is a bit different.”

It puts her in a bit of a weird position with a sharp taste in her mouth, wanting to defend her new friends to one of her oldest, but Chaol has to understand that how he sees them isn’t right.

“I don’t think either of them is quite how you think.” She says it gently because she doesn’t want to risk irritating Chaol with this. “Fenrys works really hard, you know. He’s putting a lot of work into understanding Rhys, Rowan too. He puts a lot of thought into what he does, he’s really smart.”

He’s watching her silently, his eyes shining with a question she doesn’t want to answer.

“You’ve written an incredible story Chaol, we all want to do it justice.”

The quirk of his eyebrow is somewhat impressed as he takes her in, but maybe there’s something more in there. Something that catches the difference between the way she talks about Fenrys compared to the way she talks about Rowan.

“I’m glad,” is all he says.

“It’s going well,” she says and truly believes it. “I’ve said it before, but it really is a work of art, Chaol.”

She pauses, her next words thick in her throat. “Thank you… for writing it, I mean. It means a lot to me, and I am honoured to play this part.”

He nods thankfully, and she knows he appreciates the compliment but his response is typical Chaol. Quiet and understated but shining with sincerity.

There’s a moment before the corner of his mouth pulls upwards and she knows he’s just about to turn the game around and tease her now.

“A part of me wishes I hadn’t written so many intimate scenes between them, the thought of you and Fenrys Moonbeam…” He trails off.

She tugs her lips inwards between her teeth, pleading with the blush on her neck not to rise. They haven’t got to those scenes yet, and she’s been avoiding the idea of them. She doesn’t want to think about what she’ll have to do with Fenrys in a couple of weeks.

Fenrys isn’t the problem though, she knows he’ll be professional and respectful. The problem is that Rowan will be there, watching them, watching her, and the idea plays with her in a dangerous way. Everything about Rowan feels dangerous to her, and gods if that isn’t half the draw.

“I know we joked before, but you do know you’re not my father? You’re worse than Aedion,” she laughs.

Chaol just shakes his head, “I’m allowed to look out for you.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, but you’re only, what? Five years older than me?”

“Six. And Rowan Whitethorn is older than me.” The way he says it is noticeable, like he has a point to make.

“He is?”

So she didn’t know that, but it worries her how it doesn’t change things even a little bit. It doesn’t change how attractive he is, or the fact that she should be going nowhere near the idea of the two of them. She needs to call Elide, or her actual therapist.

“Yes, I think he was in the year above me at the Royal.”

She really doesn’t know all that much about him, hadn’t even known he went to the stage school in Adarlan.

What she knows is the fleeting moments she sees of him behind the camera, the expressions he makes when he’s impressed and when he’s not. She knows things like his coffee order, his hatred for the little pastries the catering department provide and how he doesn’t seem to drink alcohol. She knows about Lyria, but it’s from the internet, not him.

She doesn’t know him.

“Oh,” is all she manages.

Chaol eats another fry, watching her the whole time, and she wants him to look away. She has nothing to feel guilty about; they haven’t done anything. She has one, probably inadvisable, crush on her boss that she’ll speak to Elide about and get over. Then the movie will be done and she won’t ever have to see him again.

The dropping sensation in her stomach at the thought is less than desirable.

Chaol stays for a few days. He hangs around on set and sits in her chair while she films. It’s a pleasant kind of relief, tinged with an element of nostalgia, to have him around. He makes her feel like a kid again, and she feels herself looking towards him for approval when she desperately avoids how she wants to do the same to Rowan.

He relents on the second day, after having met Fenrys and Rowan properly, and admits to her that he thinks his baby is probably in good hands. She just says “I told you so,” because she’s a child and annoying Chaol is fun.

She’s sitting in Manon’s chair next to him, and they’re talking about Aedion. He and Chaol have a friendship she likes to pretend doesn’t stem from a mutual concern for her. Chaol is saying something about how he doesn’t envy Aedion’s schedule, but she’s barely listening.

Aelin’s watching where Rowan stands a few feet away. He’s wearing a soft-looking black sweatshirt and jeans, and she can’t help but imagine how it would feel to slip the sweatshirt on herself. How it would still be warm from his body, how the sleeves would trail way past her fingertips, how the smell of him would surround her.

He’s directing Manon, gesturing jaggedly with his hands and she’s nodding along. The shades of their hair almost match, Aelin notices absently, but she prefers the silver shine to Rowan’s compared to the clean-white of Manon’s. Rowan makes a gesture with his right hand and his fingers flex in a rhythmic movement, the elegant lengths of his fingers flowing freely in motion.

She wants to take that hand and put it on herself, she wants to run it down her side and between her thighs. She wants to take his fingers into her mouth and suck.

And like, what the fuck Aelin?

Texting Rowan is, objectively, a bad idea. Not that it’s a bad idea to text a colleague and ask to hang out, it’s just that that isn’t exactly what she wants to get from texting him. So yes; it’s a bad idea, and Aelin knows this, but she’s been thinking of doing it for a couple of days and the desire to do so hasn’t faded. She’s thought about it for long enough that she’s rationalised it, it’s not rash.

Aelin wants to know Rowan.

She taps away at her screen, hi rowan… No. That's not right. Aelin deletes it.

Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to… Nope. Not right either. She bites her lip while she backspaces the string of letters.

She wants to seem casual, so if he’s not into it it’s not awkward. Aelin’s a feminist, but she still doesn’t want to outright ask him out until she’s tested the waters a little more, got a bit of a better read on him and whether he could be into it or not.

She thinks he is, at least a little bit. She knows his eyes linger on her sometimes, sometimes her face, sometimes her arse. She likes it, but whether all he feels is attraction, or whether he feels the same as her is a mystery.

She still hasn’t spoken to Elide about it, but there’s a devil on her shoulder whispering that she’s probably past the point of no return already.

i’m sick of takeout, she types. want to go and grab a bite somewhere???

Aelin taps send before she can overthink it. She can always invite Fenrys to come along too if Rowan doesn’t seem keen on doing something just the two of us.

It’s not long before her phone buzzes with a response. You’re sick of takeout, so you want to go and eat out?

She chews the inside of her cheek, his response doesn’t really give her much. And while it’s not a rejection, it’s not a yes. Maybe her text was stupid, gods, why didn’t she think-

Her phone buzzes again. How about I cook something instead?

Much better. She smiles as she writes her response.

i don’t really want food poisoning :/// my boss might be a bit pissed if i can’t work

The bubble with the three dots pops up immediately, and her thumbs hover over the screen as she waits.

Ha. Ha. He sends, and she can’t fight the little laugh that escapes her as she imagines him rolling his eyes at her. His next text comes through pretty quickly. I’m on board with going out if you want, just thought something more private could be better.

And shit. There are a number of ways she could interpret that. Aelin’s trying not to read into things, things like Rowan saying he wants to go somewhere private with her, he could just be talking about paparazzi. Damn, he probably is just talking about paparazzi.

oh yeah sounds good actually but pls don’t poison me

He just sends a straight faced emoji.

Aelin leans back into her couch as he sends another follow up text.

Do you want to come here?

She could, but he hosted last time. And while she liked the atmosphere at Rowan’s house, she can’t deny that she likes the idea of him here. She likes the idea of seeing Rowan making his way around her kitchen, likes the idea of Rowan sitting opposite her at the end of this couch.

or you could come here????

She bites the corner of her nail as she stares at her screen, waiting for his response to come through.

Sure. I’ll swing by the store to grab some ingredients. How many people am I cooking for?

Aelin pauses, her thumbs hovering above the keyboard.

was thinking 2 but i can invite others if you want

She thinks that’s pretty clear, but it also puts the ball in his court. She’s the most nervous she’s been so far as she waits for his reply, and the three dots pop up before disappearing again. They pop up again, before finally his message comes through.

Don’t. His text reads. I’ll pick up enough for two.

His response is pretty clear too, and she smiles as she sends three thumbs up emojis.

Her apartment isn’t dirty, or even messy, but once she’s locked her phone she’s up and full of nervous energy. It’s probably presumptuous to make sure her bed is made, but she does it anyway. She leaves the leggings and oversized sweater she wears on, it’s casual, she’s chilled out. Or she can at least pretend to be.

She’s doing her last round of the apartment, keeping her eyes peeled for any stray socks or underwear that she could have left anywhere. A blush threatens her cheeks at the thought of Rowan and her underwear, but she forces it down when there’s a sharp knock at the door.

She swings the door open and there he is.

He looks good, as always, but today it’s highlighted by the deep green military-style jacket he has thrown on over his plain white t-shirt. The tan of his skin always looks good against bright white, and the green of his jacket draws out the depths of his green eyes.

“Hey,” she breathes as their eyes meet.

He smiles, a slightly crooked thing, and he just looks even more attractive. “Hey.”

He’s carrying a brown paper bag pressed against his side in his left hand, and she reaches out to take it from him as she steps aside to let him in. He steps in, but resists her grab for the bag, instead wrapping his right arm around her waist to pull her into a brief hug. “Thanks for having me.”

His words take her back to the first time she visited his house. The time with Fenrys and Manon and the football game. The visit with her and Rowan in his kitchen.

She’s nowhere near as stiff with him as she was then and she lets herself relax into the hug.

“I only let you in on the promise of food,” she says into his chest and feels more than hears his reluctant snort of laughter.

Every time they touch she’s struck by how much she likes it. How much she wants more. But then he pulls back, twisting to push her door shut.

“I feel like I should let you know now before we go any further that I can’t cook.”

Rowan only raises a brow.

“Seriously, when I was in college I set off the fire alarm in my residence at least three times.”

“Three times?” His eyes widen in playful disbelief. “What were you making?”

“Well,” she laughs. “The first time I was trying to make Lysandra a birthday cake but then I got distracted and left it in the oven for three hours. The fire department got called but it was not that big of a deal, there wasn’t a fire.”

There’s laughter dancing in his clear green eyes as she regales her tale of youth. She practically beams at the knowledge that she has put it there.

“But our kitchen did smell like smoke for the rest of the year.”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re bad at cooking.” Rowan tilts his head down at her and she realises they’re still standing in her entryway. “That sounds like you don’t pay attention.”

Aelin shrugs at his teasing. “The third time was the worst. I was trying to do that thing where you put vodka in pasta sauce.”

“Gods,” Rowan’s laughing now and she loves the low rumble of the sounds. It pricks the hairs on her arm as the sound washes over her skin.

“There were some flames,” she confesses and he winces.

She didn’t have a completely normal college experience, she was acting part time in very minor roles during her time there but she managed to make some memories in her short time there. After Sam she dropped out and the memories always leave a bittersweet taste in her mouth.

Talking about this with Rowan and laughing at her silly little anecdotes is one of the first times it hasn’t hurt.

“Sucks to be an actor,” he says mockingly with a nod into her apartment as she finally leads him into the kitchen. The apartment she’s staying in is fine, more than fine, it’s actually a really great apartment and she tries to fake a frown through her smile.

Aelin shrugs. “We can’t all be big, household-name directors, living in glamorous mansions, too famous to go out to eat.”

She shoots him an amused look, and Rowan just smirks, tilting his head to the side in a way that exposes the length of his throat.

So maybe this was a fucking dangerous idea.

Inviting Rowan to her apartment had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he’s here, now he’s in her space, looking all… damn him, he looks so fucking good she feels flushed.

She used to think brunettes were her type, Chaol and Sam were both brunette, with tanned skin and brown eyes. Recently though, as much as she wants to resist it, her type has pretty much become Rowan.

Rowan with his silver hair, and green eyes. His low voice with it’s lilting accent from across the sea. His skin is tanned too, but she knows it comes from spending hours outside rather than genetics.

She hasn’t thought seriously about another man since they started filming, or more likely since the moment they met in the hallway.

And if she allows herself to admit it, probably a lot earlier than that.

She shakes herself as he watches her.

Rowan smirks at her as he places the bag on the counter. “We’ll have to try not to set this kitchen on fire.”

She’s perched atop her counter, with one knee crossed over the other, as she watches Rowan unpack the items from the bag. He’s shucked off the jacket by now, and the t-shirt he wears gives her uninterrupted access to the image of his toned arms and the tattoo that swirls down his left side.

She realises a moment too late that he’s asked her a question.

“What?”

She can tell Rowan knows why she didn’t respond, she just hopes it’s not too much for him. From the smirk he wears she thinks maybe not.

“I’m trying to teach you a valuable skill, it may help to pay attention.” She flips him off and revels in the dark flash of a smile he offers. “I asked if you have a frying pan.”

Aelin pulls a face, she hasn’t done a lot of cooking here past the basics like pasta and soup. Her microwave has been a trusty companion.

“I don’t know.” She waves a hand to the cupboards that line the side of the room. “Have a look in there.”

He gives her a look that tells her he’s deciding whether or not he likes her giving him orders, but then he turns to rummage through her cupboards before returning triumphant and waving the silver frying pan in her face.

“So, what are you making for me?” she asks as he finds a chopping board and unloads the hoard of vegetables he brought with himself.

“Veggie burgers,” he states simply, and she knows she pulls a face because he laughs. “Before you complain, they’re good for you. And they’re tasty.”

She still wrinkles her nose at him, unconvinced.

He cocks his head as he pauses his rhythmic chopping of the leafy green vegetable he has on the board. She’s trying desperately hard to make eye contact and not just stare at the motion of his hands, and his arms, and the ink swirling down his skin.

“Didn’t I promise not to poison you? Do you not trust me to take care of you?” Aelin doesn’t think she’s reading into things to hear the flirty tone to his voice.

“I’ll let you know after I’ve tried the burger.”

Rowan shakes his head at her, the ghost of a smile floating across his face as he resumes his chopping. “Ye of little faith.”

Aelin just shrugs, making a show of being sceptical by turning her nose.

“You could always help,” Rowan comments. “Or do you regularly invite guests around expecting them to make you a meal?”

“Tell me what to do, chef.” Aelin holds her hands out, ready for instruction. “I am yours to instruct.”

Rowan nods and reaches back into the bag and pulls out a can, he turns to find a bowl and a fork and places them in front of her. She’s impressed that in under half an hour he knows his way around her kitchen far better than she does.

“Mash these,” he says.

Her disgust isn’t pretend this time and her lip curls. “Mash these beans?”

Rowan nods.

“Mash them?”

“Yes, you do know what that means don’t you?”

Aelin hits him with the fork on the bicep and he laughs again, the sound smooth and rich in her stomach. “Shut up. You’re not convincing me this is going to taste good.”

Even so, she opens the can and is about to tip them into the bowl when Rowan grabs her hand. His fingers are warm and solid where they wrap around her own, and she snaps her eyes to his face at the contact.

“Rinse them first. You warned me and yet I still overestimated your ability in the kitchen.”

He’s smiling slightly, exposing the whites of his teeth, and he’s so close to her face. They’re almost level where she sits on the counter and Aelin swallows. His eyes are bright as he looks at her and she feels her smile grow involuntarily. Something flickers across his face before he clears his throat and steps back letting go of her hand. She misses his touch immediately after it’s gone.

Aelin slides off the bench and turns towards the sink to compose herself, she rinses the beans under the tap and Rowan stays silent while she does.

She turns back and tips them into the bowl and begins to mash as Rowan grates a carrot. Aelin really didn’t know her flat even came with these things.

“This is actually fucking disgusting.”

She’s managed to turn the bean mixture into a grey-ish mush. There’s no way this can taste good, she’s going to struggle even putting it in her mouth without retching.

Rowan snorts. “It’s good for you.”

Aelin wrinkles her nose again, but keeps going. It speaks volumes that she’s willing to trust Rowan on this.

It feels weirdly domestic to be here with him in her kitchen, and they move with an easy kind of synchrony. He adds his chopped vegetables to the bowl and she mixes them together as he readies the pan.

“Up for getting your hands dirty?” Rowan asks her once he’s done, and hell if Aelin doesn’t read far too much into that. The answer is yes.

“Always.” Sue her if she makes sure to look up at him through her lashes, and to bend forwards towards him as she rests her forearms on the kitchen counter.

“Grab a handful of the mixture,” He points to the contents of the bowl. “And shape it into a round patty.”

Aelin goes to put her hand tentatively into the bowl, it’s now a grey-ish mush with flecks of orange and green and she’s dreading it getting under her nails.

“Wait,” Rowan says, and he reaches out to roll the sleeves of her sweater up. It’s such a sweet gesture that it kind of takes her by surprise. The gentleness with which he holds her wrist as he rolls the fabric is nice, and she finds herself watching his face as he does it.

His brows pull together, in an expression she assumes is concentration, as he makes the careful motions. He looks good, she notes, not for the first time.

His thumbs and index fingers move down to squeeze the junction where her wrists meet her hands as he finishes and says, “there you go.”

“Thanks,” she breathes.

Aelin turns back to the bowl, attempting to somehow calm her heart. Rowan really needs to stop touching her if she wants to get over whatever this is. But now that he’s here, and he’s looking at her the way he is, and specifying that he wants to spend time with her, just the two of them…

It’s the first time she allows herself to consider that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t something that’s only dangerous. She finally allows herself to consider the idea that this could be fun, this could be something she could really enjoy. And here, in her apartment just the two of them, he doesn’t have to be her boss. He’s just Rowan and she’s just Aelin.

She really likes that thought.

Rowan clicks the pan on, and the sound startles her out of her head. Aelin hesitates before finally plunging her fingers into the mush and gods, she has some faith in Rowan if she’s going to even consider eating this.

It’s gross, but she manages to shape it into two round patties, and she places them into the pan when Rowan instructs.

Aelin washes her hands as Rowan pays attention to the burgers, and she retakes her seat on the counter after sorting out their plates and condiments. She might not be a great cook, but she can be a good host.

She watches him flip them a couple of times, taking the opportunity to ogle without risk of being caught staring. He has strong arms, and the tattoo snaking down his left makes her mouth water with every flex of his muscles. He has wide hands with long, almost elegant fingers that she wants to link through her own. Aelin is reminded, as he lifts the pan, of the thought she had the other day when he was directing Manon.

It wasn’t the first time she had considered Rowan in a sexual way, but it was the most direct, and she’s not complaining, but sometimes it makes it a little difficult to concentrate in his presence.

Finally, he switches the heat off and turns to place the patties in their buns. Aelin has to admit they look a little better now that they’re cooked, but she’s still not convinced.

He presents her with the plate, wearing a bashful little smile, and she’s taken by how adorable she finds it. He’s actually nervous to hear what she thinks.

She slathers it in ketchup, hoping to make it somewhat palatable and lifts it to her lips, about to take a bite when he speaks.

“We’re eating here?”

Aelin pauses, putting the burger back on her plate. “Where else would we eat?”

Rowan shrugs, still holding his own plate. He doesn’t put any ketchup on his and she’s trying not to be disgusted. She taps the bench next to herself, and Rowan seems to deliberate for a moment before finally hopping up at her side. He towers over her again now that they’re on an even playing field and she likes it. She likes how much bigger he is than her, and likes it even more how she still feels safe with him.

“Okay, now go,” he says, still apprehensive of her reaction, and Aelin makes a big deal of taking a deep breath before her first bite.

She chews it all silently before swallowing, working to keep her expression neutral, and Rowan doesn’t look away from her face the whole time. She purses her lips afterwards, and waits for him to speak.

“So?”

“It’s not terrible,” she admits with a small smile creeping up the sides of her mouth.

Rowan quickly takes his own bite, and she watches the way his fingers dwarf the same bun that fills her hands. He hums his own pleasure.

“Not terrible,” he repeats. “Admit it, it’s good.”

She flips a strand of hair over her shoulder before she takes another bite. She was sceptical -- more than -- when it was still a mush, but she has to admit it’s tasty, and very Rowan. She doesn’t know for sure he’s a health nut, but based on the parts of his body that she’s seen and his distaste for all things sweet, she can guess.

“Maybe,” is all she says before taking another bite. He watches her with a smug smile, one she desperately wants to get rid of. It isn’t helpful that the way she wants to do so is by kissing him.

“Oh!” She jumps down from the counter, throwing her plate to the side, suddenly reminded. “You know what I have that would go perfectly with this?”

She grabs two glasses out of the cupboard and sets them down on the bench in between where she’s been sitting and Rowan. Aelin turns to the fridge before pulling out the small bottle.

Rowan groans, and she tucks the sound to the back of her mind. “Aelin,” he starts. “I don’t want any of that.”

“Come on,” she cries. “A milkshake is an essential with a burger and this is the best I have to offer. If I’d thought ahead I could have at least found a bottle of wine to go with the dinner you cooked for me.”

She’s not entirely sure why she said it, especially when she’s pretty sure she’s deduced that he doesn’t drink, and the reason for it, but it feels like an automatic apology that just slips off her tongue whenever she’s in a setting where alcohol could be a presumption.

Rowan’s expression locks down at her comment and she immediately regrets it.

“Um-” she starts but Rowan clears his throat.

“It’s okay,” he says slowly, avoiding her gaze, “I don’t drink.”

“Oh,” Aelin all but whispers, and it surprises her when Rowan lets out a dark huff of laughter. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m guessing you know why.”

His voice has a somewhat bitter edge to it that she hates.

“I wasn’t-”

She stops when he finally looks up at her and she sees his expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says again quickly and he only shakes his head and pats the counter at his side.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

There’s something in his eyes that makes her retake her seat at his side and pick her burger back up, taking a bite as he takes a breath.

“It’s not something that usually falls into casual dinner conversation.”

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”

It’s something she isn’t sure she realised the importance of at first. The offer of whether to share or not. She fights a desperate war inside of herself every time conversations head down a lane like this. The desire to scream her story from the rooftops squaring off against the desperation to remain closed up where no one will ever know what bubbles just below the surface.

Usually privacy wins. Usually she swallows those words down and stays quiet, keeping this reel of pain and loss and tragedy buried deep within, but here with Rowan, tucked away in the kitchen of her temporary home, the words don’t feel so daunting.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s often something that makes other people feel uncomfortable. They pity the guy with the dead fiancée”—Aelin blinks past the way his voice wavers—“but they don’t want to actually hear about it. I’ll spare you the gorey details but after that I couldn’t bring a drink to my lips again. I’ve never so much as considered it — never wanted to.”

There’s an ache beginning in her chest, and she puts her burger back down on her plate. Rowan hasn’t touched his since his first few bites. She desperately wants to comfort him, wants to place a hand on his shoulder and take the pain away any way she can, but she knows from experience that it can’t be done.

This kind of pain, this grief, is something that can’t be taken away. She lives with her grief and her guilt after Sam every day of her life, and she thinks she will forever. No matter how many therapy sessions she goes to, no matter how many days and weeks and months pass, Sam will always be a part of her. Scrawled across her heart in his messy penmanship.

“I understand,” she says quietly. “More than you’d think.”

This is the moment where she could probably finish, where she could twist the conversation back to Rowan and pat his shoulder sympathetically, or where she could tug it to somewhere new and safe.

But she doesn’t often get opportunities like this, in the dim light and the quiet of her flat where the only other sound is the noise coming from the hood above her cooker. She doesn’t often get to talk about this with someone who truly understands.

All of her friends tried in the months after Sam, and gods bless them they still do, but none of them were as close to Sam as she was. They were upset for Aelin and her loss, not at the loss of Sam. And Rowan, who sits next to her staring at the floor, she thinks he could understand.

His gaze lifts from the floor to meet hers as she begins to speak.

“His name was Sam,” she says and Rowan nods.

“I know.”

Aelin feels her breath leave her chest in a whoosh.

“I saw some of the headlines at the time, Aelin I’m so sorry.”

Her jaw works as she tries to find the words, any words, to respond to that. But she’s shaken. She didn’t think anyone knew, or even noticed, outside of her immediate circle. But then she thinks back to the dinner they shared, the way his gaze had burned into her when the conversation had turned to her break. He knows — he has known — and he gets it.

She shakes her head, composing herself enough to speak. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His lips twist as she repeats his words back to him.

She doesn’t mean to say, “I knew about Lyria too,” but Rowan just nods, breaking their gaze to stare down at where their hands lie beside each other with an expression she can’t read.

Aelin knows she shouldn’t, for any number of reasons, but she reaches out to twine their fingers together atop the marble of her countertop. His fingers are rough and calloused between her own but the thumb he rubs against the back of her hand is gentle and reassuring.

He doesn’t speak, but there isn’t anything Aelin feels the need to say. It’s a kindred kind of silence, one borne of more pain than either of them could bear to speak aloud, and there’s an awful feeling of comfort in it. She knows he’s thinking of Lyria the way she’s thinking of Sam. But there is a part of her mind, a part that’s like a rising sun creeping above the horizon to break the shadow of night, that’s thinking of Rowan too.

Eventually she picks her burger back up again, it’s cold now but she can reluctantly admit it doesn’t taste horrendous. Their fingers stay linked as they each eat single-handedly, building themselves back up to sharing short stories and playful quips.

She’s glad she invited him, her boss or not.

#rowaelin #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelin au #ndilyd #nobody does it like you do

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rafaelblackbird15 · 3 years

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Teen Wolf Fic Recs Part 4: Sterek

These are Sterek, Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale fanfictions.

I really love these. They are some of my favourite Sterek stories, and ALL of these are absolutely beautiful. Without a doubt. Send the authors some love, because that's what they've given me and us right here. :)

If there is a problem with any of the links, let me know and I will fix them.

For appropriate reading check the hashtags on the actual fics.

I hope you enjoy these as much as I did.

And check out my other Steter fic recs [Part 1] and [Part 2] and Sterek fic recs [Part 3]

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God Brings The Wounded by CallieB on Archive of Our Own

Words: 4938

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

“Jesus,” Stiles says, when he sees Derek for the first time, and feels his face do that thing where it tries to smile. Derek, or the weirdly fresh-faced teenage version of Derek that he is now, doesn’t flinch at Stiles’ exclamation.

He’s too busy flinching at everything else.

Requested by the lovely nohomohomie, who asked for something angsty post-nogitsune.

Has got to be one of my favourite canon teenage/de-aged Derek fics, with beautiful, angsty Sterek, of course.

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You're Not You by CallieB on Archive of Our Own

Words: 5266

Chapters: 1/1

Part 9 of the Sterek Bingo 2017 series

Summary:

Stiles lifts his head slowly, meeting Derek’s gaze. His eyes… they’re always clever, bright, perceptive, but today there’s something in them that Derek doesn’t recognise. He’s pale, but not defeated. He looks stronger than Derek expected. And unexpectedly, he feels it flash through him in a bolt of absolute, though surprised, certainty.

That's not Stiles.

Written for the Dark!Stiles square on my Sterek Bingo card.

This story is possibly one of the best EVER Void!Stiles stories I have ever read. The idea is complex and fascinating and unique. After I read this for the first time I was left stunned and I kept coming back to it in my mind as well as to read because I couldn't get over the idea. It's beautiful.

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Yeah, Pass The Salt, Stiles by CallieB on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3609

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Yeah, pass the salt, Stiles.

They're not particularly inspiring words. Not like the long stream of goo spilling over Scotty's arm. But somewhere, Stiles' soulmate is out there, waiting to say them to him.

If only he could stop thinking about the mysterious hot stranger he met in the woods...

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Author: CallieB

This author has 15 Teen Wolf works, most if not all are Sterek. Some of them in particular really hit somewhere special.

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Behind Locked Doors by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 11128

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Derek often showed up in his room—at least he used the fucking door now that he knew where the spare key was hidden—and he couldn’t escape people in general in the Jeep since they could see him through the window. His dad was home, and when he wasn’t, there was always the risk of other people showing up.

His bathroom, on the other hand? No, his bathroom was a small room with no window in the middle of the house with a lockable door and no judgement. He could sit in the bathroom for hours, and no one would question it. Was he watching porn on his phone and jerking off? Was he taking a massive dump? Did he have constipation? Was he stitching up the millionth injury of the month in private? Who knew? No one but Stiles!

The locked door at his back felt like a safety net for him sometimes. In the bathroom, he didn’t have to pretend. He didn’t have to smile and wave people’s words off, insist he was fine, laugh and act like everything was okay. In the bathroom, he was allowed to sit on the floor, his expression tight, and his body falling apart on him.

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Author: isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

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Should Have Looked on Craigslist by Akiruchan on Archive of Our Own

Words: 27217

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Derek is rash and self-sacrificing, everything that will one day get him killed. Stiles doesn't want that. He's become too accustomed to a life with Derek Hale in it. To live without, well, it just doesn't seem to be an option.

or...

The five times Stiles' expectations fall short, and the one time he's glad they do.

This is an incredible, slow burn, build of the winding relationship between Stiles and Derek and the world they now live in, side by side. It's wonderful and blessedly long.

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Bless You by Ankiruchan on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3070

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

It all started with a sneeze...

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Lend Me Your Eyes, Give Me Your Heart by Ankiruchan on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3057

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Stiles’ life sucks. He’s honest enough with himself to admit to at least that. More often than not he spends his free time running for his life, saving people from creatures who want to rip his face off, and all around having a distinct lack of self-preservation. It sort of comes with the territory. Not something he can avoid when his circle of friends happen to be werewolves.

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Nobody's Fault But Mine by Akiruchan on Archive of Our Own

Words: 26552

Chapters: 4/?

Summary:

Stiles has always been good at ignoring his problems. Preferring to wait them out until they are nothing but a distant memory. But when a midnight stroll leads to a nasty scratch to Stiles side, courtesy of Derek, Stiles finds that some things just can't be ignored, not that he doesn't try. Better hearing and improved eyesight, that is something he can ignore for now. The sudden urge to touch and smell Derek all the time? Not so much.

This is werewolf!Stiles, and it's one the of the laid back, kind, intense versions that I enjoy very much. Unfortunately, I think it's been discontinued, but I believe even so, these 4 chapters are worth the little heartbreak that comes with the knowledge it may not be finished.

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Author: Akiruchan

This author is responsible for some of the best slow build Sterek stories I've read.

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Lock All The Doors Behind You by entanglednow on Archive of Our Own

Words: 25960

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

He has no idea what you're supposed to say when you find one of your...werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they're about to see what your insides taste like. There's no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one.

I've come back to this so many times. The relationship is so vulnerable, down to earth and open and kind, extremely kind, which is something Derek really lacks in his life, someone to be kind to him. There's a feeling, somehow, that this is quite natural for them.

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In Case Of Emergency by entanglednow on Archive of Our Own

Words: 1826

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Derek falls through Stiles's bedroom window at ten past midnight.

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By Any Other Name by entanglednow on Archive of Our Own

Words: 33090

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

He doesn't know his name, he doesn't know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he's on the run with. But he's pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.

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I Could Find My Way Back by entanglednow on Archive of Our Own

Words: 6250

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

What's the worst that could happen?

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Author: entanglednow

This author is responsible for so many amazing fics out there. They have 55 Teen Wolf fics, all with really interesting ideas and takes on the characters and supernatural world.

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You want forgiveness (I'll give that to you) by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 2806

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Derek is running from the Alpha, suffering from wolfsbane poisoning and he’s clearly losing it. Why else would he be seeing his mother - and everyone else he might as well have killed himself. But Stiles can’t just let him get what he deserves. Stiles never leaves him behind, even when he should.

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(Fuck you they said) As they threw their threads from their wedding bed by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 96199

Chapters: 9/9

Summary:

First Son Stiles Stilinski just accidentally caused an international incident. And apparently the only way to save human-werewolf relations is to marry him off to Prince Derek of Triskele. Stiles is going to need all of his acting skills to make the marriage look real, because the Prince is kind of a fucking asshole.

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Author: dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)

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fake empire by Poe on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3685

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Stiles hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. He was going to tell Derek. The whole truth of it. He was halfway through when the phone rang. A half-finished sentence, left hanging in the air as his life crumbled around him.

(or: Stiles gets so, so lost. But he finds himself again.)

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you all over me by Poe on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3705

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

The thing about Stiles is, Derek thinks, is that he has no idea how enthralling he truly is. He’s easy to overlook, right up until the point he isn’t, and at some stage, Derek started looking, and now, it’s all he can do.

(or: the one where the pack is happy, healthy and alive, and Stiles and Derek are sort of inevitable)

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Author: Poe

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For If Dreams Die by veritas_st on Archive of Our Own

Words: 24169

Chapters: 8/8

Summary:

“I had a dream about a boy last night,” Mischief says through a mouthful of pancakes. His dad points the spatula at him and he swallows before he says anything else. “His name was Derek. He called me Stiles. I want to be called that from now on.”

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Author: veritas_st

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About Today by rufflefeather on Archive of Our Own

Words: 8901

Chapters: 1/1

Part 1 of the inside these arms series

Summary:

Stiles is having the worst day of his life and it keeps happening.

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Until Tomorrow by rufflefeather on Archive of Our Own

Words: 9016

Chapters: 1/1

Part 2 of the inside these arms series

Summary:

Derek's worst nightmares didn't prepare him for this.

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Let it be me by rufflefeather on Archive of Our Own

Words: 1495

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

After everything that happened, Stiles goes to see Derek.

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Even the stars they burn by rufflefeather on Archive of Our Own

Words: 5770

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Derek finds out quite by accident what makes Stiles shut up. If he reveals along the way that he didn't always carry this darkness around, then that's entirely Stiles' fault.

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Solstice. by rufflefeather on Archive of Our Own

Words: 4119

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

It's the first total lunar eclipse during winter solstice in three hundred and fifty years and Derek has no idea what's going to happen.

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Author: rufflefeather

This author has some intense, sometimes heartbreakingly endearing, and wonderful Teen Wolf fics.

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Hear The Wheels As They Roll by crossroadswrite on Archive of Our Own

Words: 44919

Chapters: 2/2

Summary:

“You can’t be here. This is private property,” someone calls out and for some reason that voice sounds painfully familiar.

When it hits him why, Stiles almost chokes with the realization, “Derek Hale,” he says, unbelievably happy because he remembers Derek when they were young.

Derek looks grumpier, sadder, angrier. Stiles can’t really fault him for that. He also looks surprised that Stiles knows who he is. He squint/glares suspiciously at him, his nostrils flare for a second before he widens his eyes almost dramatically.

“Stiles,” he says quietly, like he can’t really believe it.

Stiles beams, “Yeah, you remember me!”

**********

Author: crossroadswrite

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