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iinsertblognamee · 8 months

Text

you have a what?

summary ― the matildas find out who the mysterious girl in the lobby is here for

pairing ― sam kerr x reader

warning/s ― fluff, illusions to smut

Sam pulled out her phone from her bag as the team slowly made their way into the changing rooms. A smile lit up her face as she notices the text message waiting for her.

I’m in the lobby, love you lots xoxo

She sent off a quick ‘coming soon’ text before dropping her phone down and wiping some of the sweat off her face.

“Yo! Did anyone get a look at the hot girl in the lobby?” Hayley asked as she walked towards her locker. Sam smirked to herself as she started to change her socks and put on her shoes.

“Who do you think she is?” Kyra wondered, the room now filled with the rest of the team - all engaged in the conversation of the mysterious girl.

“I think I might just go and find out after we get changed,” Charlotte said, a smirk on her face as she wiggled her eyebrows - the team giving out cat calls in response. Sam couldn’t help but shake her head with laughter, they had no clue.

“I mean, she’s probably one of the trainer's girlfriends or something,” Lydia says, calming the crowd just a little bit. Hayley doesn’t enjoy the comment, turning her body around to face Lydia as she asks “Well? Who do you think she’s here for?”.

“I don’t know but she’s wearing some of our training gear so she obviously knows someone here - and I know what a woman in love looks like”.

Hayley shakes her head, a cheeky grin slapped on her face. “I don’t believe that,” she teases, Caitlin sporting a very similar one on her face.

“I have a girlfriend - I know the look” Lydia tried to point out.

“So you tell us, but we’ve never seen your girl” Caitlin taunts, both Hayley and her letting out giggles as Lydia opens and closes her mouth twice before responding once more.

“She’s literally my phone background!”

“Could be anyone” Katrina joins in, Lydia only shaking her head at the midfielder.

“You’ve met her, Katrina”

“You can’t prove anything,” Katrina teased. Sam was quietly enjoying the conversation around her as she grabbed the rest of her gear. Slipping her bag over her shoulder and did a quick double-check to see if she left anything behind.

“See you girls tomorrow!” Sam calls out, a few ‘see you’s’ were thrown in but Sam was too concentrated on getting to the lobby as fast as she can. The walk to the lobby wasn’t too far, and as Sam rounded the corner her smile widened as you stood to greet her. Looking you up and down, Sam couldn’t help but feel pride when she noticed you were wearing one of her old training jumpers - if Lydia had paid more attention she would have noticed ‘Kerr’ writing on the back.

“You changed out of your gear?” you questioned as Sam walked up to you - her arms resting on your hips as she pulls you in for a kiss.

“It was all sweaty, love” Sam insisted, a grin showing on her face as she watches you frown just a little bit. You’re bottom lip popping out - it made her want to kiss you even more. So she did.

“The hot girl is your girlfriend?” Hayley calls out, the shout broke the two of you apart as Sam turned her head over her shoulder to catch her whole team watching the pair of you. Her hands are still placed on your hips as you give hers a small squeeze, blushing at the word ‘hot’ and pushing your face into Sam’s neck.

“Yeah, I guess she is” Sam smiles out, bringing herself to now be standing next to you - proudly showing you off to her teammates.

“You didn’t mention you were dating someone!” Caitlin exclaims, her eyes almost comedically wide. Sam just shrugs her shoulders, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

You could feel everyone staring at you - and while you didn’t really enjoy the attention you knew you and Sam probably have some explaining to do.

“I’m Y/N” you start, giving a small wave and a smile towards the group of ladies in front of you. “It’s lovely to meet all of you, Sam’s told me so much about you guys”

“Ha! Wish I could say the same” Caitlin snorts - though you both know there’s no anger behind her words. Sam lets out another shake of her head, a grin imprinted on her face.

“Alright calm down, how about we all go out for dinner tomorrow after training? That way I can show Y/N off and you can ask all the questions your little hearts desire” Sam suggests, most of the girls nodding their heads in agreement but you note that Caitlin is still looking at the pair of you with a question in her eyes.

“Why not tonight?” she mistakenly asks, you feel your cheeks already bruising up as your girlfriend almost beams in pride.

“Because tonight I’m busy rocking my girlfriend’s world apart”

#sam kerr x reader #sam kerr imagines #sam kerr imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines

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scarlethexelove · 3 months

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Hi Idk if your requests are still open but if they are, please can I request something? 🫣Remember Agatha photos, yes the one with the suit 🥴🫠🫨 I was thinking about Professor! Agatha. I want that. Daddy kink, breeding, and magic of course. Add whatever you want to it. Obviously, Top!Agatha

My Office

Image found on google

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 3102

Warnings: Professor!Agatha, Smut, Manipulation, Enchanted Strap, Fingering, A bit of mind control, Use of magic, Squirting, Daddy Kink, Dark!Agatha, Dom!Agatha, Sub!Reader, Breeding, Cock Warming, Virgin!Reader, Innocent!Reader, A bit of Dacryphilia, Age Gap (Agatha early 40s, Reader early/mid 20s), I think that is it

A/n: Alright so this one got away from me a bit. I made her a bit dark because I didn't want to fully typical professor/student relationship. I did also feel with making Reader so innocent that Reader being a virgin so that Agatha can manipulate her more was fun. Hope you like it and I didn't add anything that you didn't like

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

This class was your least favorite. History. You’re in history class with your least favorite teacher, Miss.Harkness. You don’t understand why you are borderline failing this class. You have been a straight A student all your life. You currently have a 4.0 GPA but you still can’t wrap your head around why this one is different. It’s like when you get your test back that you took a totally different test than what is being handed back. You’re beginning to think you are going crazy. How could you be doing this bad on all of these tests? Your GPA is tanking quickly and you just want to cry. And you almost do when another F lands on your desk right in front of you.

“See me in my office after class.” Mrs.Harkness leans down and whispers in your ear. It’s like you can hear the smirk in her voice but you dare not to look. Fighting back the tears that threaten to fall as your eyes shine with them. You just give her a gentle nod as she continues to pass out papers.

Your hands grip the pages looking at all the red X’s on the page. It’s History, it shouldn't be this hard. You studied all night for this test. You’re beginning to think that Mrs.Harkness has it out for you and wants you to fail.

What you don’t know is that she doesn’t want you to fail. She has a plan for you and the only way she can make it happen is for her to make you desperate. So she uses her magic to change your answers. The handwriting looks the same so that you get the question wrong. She likes to tell herself that she would never use her magic in this way but she has to have you. So she continues to make you fail. The only test left is your final and she knows that you are at your most vulnerable and desperate to achieve a higher grade. So now is her time to strike.

After class you walk slowly to her office. Having stopped in the bathroom to clean yourself up after letting a few tears slip down your face. You now stand outside the office door. Frosted glass with Miss.Harkness written in bold letters on the glass. The name mocking you as you gently knock on the door.

“Come in dear.” You hear her call out from behind the door. You gulp down the fear rising in your throat as you turn the squeaky handle and enter the room. There she is behind her desk in a large black chair. She looks up at you with a smirk playing on her lips. She watches your nervous form as you rub your sweaty palms on your pants. “Y-you wanted to s-see me Miss.Harkness?” You stutter out, fear in your voice.

“Agatha sweetie. You can call me Agatha sweetheart. We aren’t in class anymore.” She smiles at you standing from her seat as you awkwardly stand in the middle of her office. She shrugs off her long suit coat that almost reaches the floor. She sets it on the back of her chair leaving her in a white button up shirt and suit pants. You hate to admit it but the older woman is very attractive. If you weren’t terrified of her you may actually have a crush on the woman. But you have no time to think about that. You’re failing her class and you need to pass.

You nod and mumble “Agatha.” Her name feels strange on your tongue. “Sit dear, we have some things to discuss.” She motions for you to sit in the chair in front of her desk. You hesitantly move and sit as she rounds her desk. She moves and sits on the edge of her desk right in front of you. Pushing her sleeves up before gripping the edge of her desk, her legs slightly crossed as she holds herself up on the desk. “I’m very disappointed in you Y/n. I had heard many wonderful things about you from your previous professors but your work has been… underwhelming to say the least. I thought you had some brains in that pretty little head of yours.” Her voice is condescending and you can feel more tears in your eyes. You don’t even register the fact that she called you pretty at that moment. Only focusing on the criticism at the moment.

You look down, not meeting her eyes. “I-I-I” The tears threaten to fall as you try to hold your composure. Agatha thriving on your innocence and your fears. Her finger hooking under your chin as she leans forward forcing you to look up at her. “I don’t understand why. I-I study for hours. I know the material.” Your voice shakes slightly. “Obviously not or you would be passing my class.” She tisk. A tear rolls down your cheek. She moves her hand cupping your cheek and wipes the tear away with her thumb. She has you exactly where she wants you. “What if I told you there was something you could do for me. Something that will let you pass and possibly even get you an A.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! I’ll do anything you ask of me just please I don’t wanna fail.” More tears slip down your cheeks as you don’t even question what she could possibly want from you. All you care about right now is your grade and to pass this class. You can deal with the consequences later. Right now you need this.

Agatha’s smirk grows more sinister. Purple smoke forms around her hand as you hear the door behind you lock. Your eyes widen as you look back at the purple smoke fading from the door before you look back now terrified at the woman in front of you. “W-what are you?” You question her trying to pull away from her touch. Her fingers gripping your chin harshly as she leans down closer to you, her lips inches from yours. “Oh, did you think that history stays in the past? I’m a witch my dear. Delightful to meet you my dear.” She laughs a wicked laugh.

Your mind is reeling from the new information. What could a witch want from you? Is she evil or good? Has she been purposely failing you? How can you get away from her? You can’t seem to understand anything right now. Your mind is going hazy. You don’t even notice the purple smoke this time as it seeps into your mind. You're being pliable to her just the way she likes it.

Agatha leans the rest of that distance and kisses your lips. With the magic she is using on you you kiss her back almost immediately. As the two of you make out Agatha starts to move you both gently. She gets you up on your feet grasping your hips tightly before she flips you pressing you against the desk. With her hands on your hips she urges you to sit on the desk which you do with her help. When air becomes an issue she pulls back her forehead leaning against yours. All you feel now is her and the need for her.

Agatha is pressed against you. You feel a bulge in her pants causing you to let out a whimper. “Oh sweetheart. Do you want daddy to fuck you?” She grinds into you moaning. You look at her with innocence with a touch of fear. Your mind is trying to scream at you to say no but soon that voice becomes small and distant until you can’t hear it anymore. Your only thoughts are of her.

“Daddy?” You say cautiously. Seeing how it feels on your tongue. She smiles at you. “Yes baby.” She says with another grind of her hips which causes you to let out a moan. “I-I’ve never.” Is all that you can get out. Too embarrassed to add anything hoping she gets the hint which she does. A low groan leaving her lips. She knew you were innocent but not this innocent and now she gets to ruin you for anyone else. “That’s ok sweet girl Daddy will take care of you. Do you want daddy to take care of you?” You ponder her question for a moment before nodding your head.

“I need words sweet girl.” Now that she has you she is going to teach you right. “Yes.” You mumble. “Yes what?” She asks, pulling back slightly to see what you would do. “Yes Daddy.” You grip her shirt, pulling her back. “Mmm good girl.” Her words make you blush and let out a small whine. You’re so adorable she thinks.

With her hands on your hips she pulls at your pants motioning for you to let her take them off. You lift your hips for her as she pulls them down and you help kick them off. She moans seeing the large wet spot on your panties. You shy under her gaze and try to close your legs but she doesn’t let you. Her fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs. Where you know you will have bruises tomorrow. Her one hand moving and pressing against your clothed bundle of nerves. You squirm at the touch, a throb you have never felt before in core. Her other hand moving up and tugging at your shirt, a signal for you to take it off.

You help take off your shirt as Agatha slowly starts to circle your clit with her finger. You unconsciously start to grind on her hand. Once your shirt is off her hand moves up and harshly grope your breast. She pulls your bra down letting your breast spill over the top. Leaning down and wrapping her lips around one of your nipples moving her hand to the other to tweak and pinch as her teeth scrape across the one in her mouth. The hand that was on your clothed core moves and grips your hips as she pushes closer and grinds against you. You both let out a moan at the feeling. One of your hands moving to her back and the other moving to the base of her scalp, lacing your fingers in her hair and gripping it tightly when she bites your nipple. Letting out a whimper as she groans.

“Fuck baby girl, so wet and needy for me already.” Agatha pulls back before kissing your neck. Sucking and nipping leaving reddish purple marks on your neck wanting people to know that you are taken. As she attacks your neck her hand moves back down between your bodies, her fingers pushing aside your panties. Swiping her fingers through your drenched folds teasing your entrance before easing her finger in. You squirm at the stretch. “Daddy.” You whine. “Shhhh, baby girl. Daddy is going to make you feel so good.” Her lips never leave your neck as she pumps her finger slowly in and out of your pussy. “Yes daddy.” You whimper.

She slowly starts to pick up her pace. A second finger joining the first as she pushes them both in. You grip her even tighter, digging your nails in whining at the slightly painful stretch. Small whimpers and moans leaving your lips egging her on to go faster curling her fingers. Your walls start to clamp down on her fingers letting her know that you are close. “D-Daddy I feel funny.” You whine trying to squirm away but Agatha growls digging her fingers into your hip. She quickens the pace wanting to see you fall apart around her fingers. She pulls back watching your face. Your face is scrunched up and you're trying to grip at any part of her that you can reach. “Let it go sweetheart. You can do it for daddy.” You shake your head, tears filling your eyes, but your body is telling a different story as your wall clamp around her fingers, your legs quivering. “You’ll feel so good. Just let it go. Don’t you want to cum all over daddy’s fingers?” You whimper and nod, finally letting the feeling take over you. Cum coating her fingers as she fucks you through your orgasm. Slowing down her pace before pulling out causing you to whimper at the loss. She pops her fingers in her mouth moaning at your taste. “Fuck sweetheart you taste devine. I should have done this earlier.” Your mind is hazy. She has you and your mind is hers.

Your panting and lean your head forward onto her shoulder as you try to regain your composure. Until you hear the sound of her zipper being undone. You pull back looking at her. She shuffles her pants and boxers down as a purple strap springs out. It is large and you wonder how it will fit inside of you. She watches you intently as her hand wraps around the appendage. She moans as she jerks it. Your eyes moving up to hers being met with blown pupils. “Fuck Daddy is going to be able to feel how wet and warm you are. How tight your little cunt is. Fuck when your cum coats my dick. I can explode just thinking about it.” She moves back between your legs, a confused look on your face. “Daddy enchanted this cock. I’m going to be able to feel all of your perfect pussy.” Her anticipation has her already swiping her strap through your folds gathering your juices onto it. Nudging your clit ever so slightly as she does before moving it down and nudging it at your entrance.

She slowly pushes in the head of her cock popping into your entrance and making you whine. “Daddy it won’t fit.” You already feel the painful stretch and so full from just the head. “I’ll make it fit sweetheart.” She kisses your lips to distract you as she slams forward fully sheathing herself in your warm tight pussy. You cry out at the painful stretch, her mouth swallowing your cries as you try and push her away but she is stronger than you. “Hurts Daddy.” You whine. “Shhh it’s ok daddy will make it feel better.” She starts to slowly thrust her hips. Tears are falling down your cheeks as she leans her forehead against yours wiping your tears away gently.

Keeping her pace slow but thrusting deep as she watches your face turn from scrunched up pain to melting into pleasure. Both hands dig harshly into your hips as she picks up her pace. Her patience wear thin as she needs to fuck you. To make you cum on her cock. “So fucking tight. Fuck!” She says her hips are snapping into you. Your pain gradually turns into pleasure the more she fucks you. Your legs wrapping around her waist and your fingers digging into her back. She smirks no longer holding back and jackhammering into your willing pussy. Both your moans filling the office. She is fucking into you so harshly that her desks squeaks on the floor and papers start to fall off her desk, but neither of you care.

“Mmm so good. You're such a good girl for me taking my cock.” She mumbles against your lips. The pleasure building causes your brain to turn to mush. Your moans bouncing off the walls. “G-Good.” Is all you’re able to mumble out.

Agatha’s hips slap against your ass as she continues to pound into you. Angling her hips perfectly to hit that spot deep inside you that you're seeing stars. Her thrust is becoming more erratic as your walls start to tighten around her cock. “Fuck! I’m going to fill this pussy so full of my cum. Would you like that baby girl? For Daddy to fill your pretty pussy with my cum? Get you pregnant, breed you. Make you my pretty little housewife. I bet you would look so hot swollen with my babies. Fuck keep you pregnant all the time just so I can fill your horney needs all the time. Continuously fill this pussy till you're dripping and so dumbed down you’ll still be begging for more.” You moan loudly a small gush of liquid coating her cock as you're turned on more. “Oh fuck you like that baby girl. I’ll make it come true. Keep you as mine forever.” Your walls clenching tightly around her cock making her moan.

“Please!” You moan out. You’re not sure what you're asking for whether it is to cum or for her to get you pregnant. You're close to falling over the edge again so you use your legs to pull her closer. Agatha is so close too. Her hand moving down and her thumb rubbing tight fast circles on your clit. Your loud moan edging her on. Her pace quickens again to an inhuman speed as she chases both of your highs. She feels you clench again. “Cum baby girl. Fuck! Cum on Daddy’s cock.”

That’s all it takes. You both fall over the edge at the same time. Liquid squirting out of you onto Agatha as you feel a warm sticky liquid paint your walls. You're both moaning as agatha continues to thrust, riding out both of your highs, her thumb still circling your clit. You whimper as it starts to become too much. She slows down her thrust until she stops leaving herself sheathed inside of you. Her hands firmly planted on either side of you on the desk as both of your chests heave. Your arms wrap tightly around her as you nuzzle into her neck.

Your mind and body are exhausted, but you feel complete like this is what you have always wanted in life. Your mind is absent of the original reason for coming into this office. Your only thoughts are filled with Agatha. You're both there in silence, the only sound is the sounds of your breathing. A comfortable silence between you two as you both enjoy the presence of one another.

Agatha pulls you back and you let out a small whine. She moves your hair out of your face and wipes the tears off your cheeks. She has the kindest, most gentle smiles as she kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose, before kissing your lips gently leaning her forehead against yours. “Daddy needs to grade some papers. How about you be a good girl and sit on Daddy’s cock while she does that.” You nod. “Mkay Daddy.” Knowing that this night will change your life forever.

#fic request #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x fem reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader smut #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader #dark agatha harkness

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daydreaming-in-letters · 10 months

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Apricity

07/12/2023

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,733

Warnings: rpf, language, alcohol, heartbreak, pining, fluff

Summary: After a painful breakup, Andrew needs the comfort of his best friend.

A/N: I'm going to church tonight, and I brought an offering for the god(s). Hope you like it.

Picture by Daniel Goodman via Business Insider

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

“Last orders.”

The booming voice rolled through the thick, hot air like thunder. It was a wonder they could hear it at all above the music and buzz of voices, she thought, but the bearded man behind the counter looked like the type who knew exactly how to make himself heard. Andrew on the other hand was not a man who raised his voice in conversation regularly, still she shivered when instead she suddenly felt his hot breath waft through her hair.

“Shall we take another?”

But he was gone before she could even turn to face him, let alone process his words and form a coherent answer.

“Oh, so no to that,” he misconstrued the confusion on her face as their eyes finally met. “You could have just said so, you know. No need to pull a face like that.”

“What face?”

“You know, the one where your eyebrows knit together just a tiny bit and the corners of your mouth fall a little.”

He tried to mimic her expression and whether he had intended to or not, he made her laugh. And as if that wasn’t enough already, he smiled along, that crooked half-smile of his, almost as if he was surprised anything he did could genuinely amuse her.

“Andrew, that’s just my usual face. It doesn’t mean anything. Although…”

“Ah, see. Not just your usual face after all then. You can’t fool me, you should have realised that by now. I don’t know why you still keep trying though.”

The slight curl of his lips reappeared for a moment, making him look so very proud of himself. And, for the first time this evening, almost a little happy. Now who was she to take that away from him by telling the truth: that she had been fooling him about her true feelings for months, maybe even years, and very successfully so, it seemed.

“You’re a grown-up, Andrew. Have a drink if you want another. But—”

The last word had earned her a very dramatic roll of his eyes.

“I knew there was a ‘but’.”

“Yes, Freud, we know, you can look through me like glass, anticipating my every move.”

He chuckled. “Finally you see reason, woman.”

“But seriously,” she could see another remark form behind his mischievous eyes, so she was quick to make her point, “is that wise? Another drink will only make you sadder than you already are.”

“Sad? I’m not sad. I’m angry. Fucking furious to be precise.”

Mostly with himself, she assumed. In all this time she had known him, he had never held a grudge against anyone for long, if at all. But it wasn’t as easy for him to forgive himself at times. Still, anger was progress.

“Good.” Softly she squeezed his hand and waited until the tension of his sudden outburst slowly subsided. “That’s good. You’re moving into the next phase then.”

He mumbled something under his breath, the sentence impossible to understand against the bustle of the pub. The only word she could identify was “Freud”, enough to help her understand that it had just been another of his sassy retorts. His next words came clearer though.

“If that really is a good thing, why can I hear concern in your voice?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think you would recover from her so soon.”

Andrew had not told her what exactly had passed between them and she didn’t want to pry. She only knew that they had argued, and that his girlfr—ex-girlfriend—had given him an ultimatum of some sort. Whatever it had been about, he obviously hadn’t decided in the woman’s favour.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Before she was able to stop herself, she could feel her brow rise, reminding him that they both knew he wasn’t the type that skipped through relationships. The final decision had been made a mere five days ago, a rather short time in her opinion to move into the phase of anger. But Andrew wasn’t her and for all she knew whatever it was that had led to the sudden end of this relationship might have given him reason in abundance to be infuriated.

“Come on, I only knew her for what? About half a year? It’s not as if she was…” For a brief moment he paused, his eyes resting on her while he tried to swallow the words that had already been forming on his tongue. But it was too late and when he finally continued, his voice was softer than it had been all evening, almost fragile. “…the love of my life.”

Eagerly he gulped down the remains of his drink as if to clean his mouth from its last statement before the glass hit the counter with an audible clink.

“You’re right though. I probably shouldn’t have another one of these. Better call it a night.”

He didn’t even wait for her response, long fingers already busy stuffing his lush bun underneath a grey beanie. She had just slipped into her jacket when he already turned to lead the way. It would be easy to get to the entrance with him in the lead, his tall form parting the crowd effortlessly for them. But he didn’t seem quite as confident in the impact of his height as he hesitated for a moment. She had no idea why, not until she could suddenly feel the warmth of his hand closing around her own. His action startled her, only for a brief second, while her brain was trying to recall a thousand memories at once just to make sure she wasn’t mistaken in thinking that he had never done this before. He hadn’t. Still it felt normal. Easy. Everything was always easy with him. Conversations, silence, laughing, crying — it was all easy. Effortless and comfortable. Natural.

It wasn’t long though before they were met with the cold night air. It hit her hard, almost making her take a step back as, with the first inhale of fresh air, it invaded her lungs. Still it was nothing, an irrelevant fact, drowned out against the much harsher sensation of his hand gliding out of hers.

He didn’t even need to fully raise the hand that had been hers for a blink of time to make the taxi hold in front of them. But it was enough for the icy air to crawl underneath her clothes and wrap around her in a tight grip. Not even his sweet gesture of holding the door for her combined with the warmth that streamed towards her from inside the cabin could keep her from shaking violently.

And it didn’t stop. Not when the door closed, not when his body pressed against hers in the limited space of the back seat. She was almost convinced that nothing would ever stop this chill, when suddenly his voice filled the silence to state the obvious.

“You’re shivering. Come here.”

And then his arm was there, invading the unclaimed territory of her neck and shoulders to pull her close. It may have been the spirits inside her system, making her needy and weak to his touch. Whatever it was, she didn’t care as she sank deeper and deeper into the unmatched heat that seeped freely from him, directly underneath her skin. She could feel his chest rising and falling so evenly, as if her closeness meant nothing, as if this was the normal way to be. It was infectious, hypnotising her into a state of untainted drowsiness, one last thought remaining on her mind. This was it, not just the normal way to be, the only way to be. Even more so as his lips pressed to her hair, a gesture so tender it made her heart flutter, and she knew that she would never recover from this moment, however insignificant it was to him.

“I don’t think I told you, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

His words were mumbled against the crown of her head, almost inaudible above the noise of the car and the blaring music from the radio, but she had heard them and would cherish them forever, sealed inside her heart until her last breath.

For most, they would be the bare minimum after crossing an ocean in a hurry simply because she had known something was off. She always knew, from the fatigued tone of his voice to the slight change of colour in his eyes, from the way he had to force his smile, never quite reaching the full infectious gleam it usually held, his mind anywhere but with her while his fingers kneaded the palm of his hand in discomfort.

She also knew that it had probably been an overreaction, but she would do a lot more for him than spend her last savings on a transatlantic flight and an overpriced Airbnb, for him, she would walk all the way through the eternal fires of hell and back if that was what it took to make him whole again. He probably wouldn’t do the same for her, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t expect him to, that was not the way love worked.

“Well, first and foremost I came here to whup that woman’s ass for treating you like...well, the way she did. Comforting you was just second on my list.”

Stirred by a deep chuckle, his hot breath wafted through her hair for the second time this night. It was addictive, and dangerous, because it made her want to cuddle in deeper until it was too late to let go. And right now, just for a second, she allowed herself to hope that he might actually let her. Later this night, she promised herself, she would forget all about it. Forget about the soothing warmth he gave her and the light his presence brought to her life, always. It would be hard to erase the memory of a love that had never been and never would, even more so in the cold of an unfamiliar bed, reminding her mercilessly that she was just another foreigner in a city of millions of strangers. In a world where no one truly knew her but one. And even he didn’t know the one thing she so desperately wanted him to know, yet feared to tell him the most.

“We both know that’s not true.” For a second she held her breath, stupidly fearing he had been listening in on her thoughts. “You couldn’t even hurt a fly.”

Technically, he was right, she silently agreed with him while she relaxed in his arms again. But this was about him. And seeing him like this, this gentle, loving, warm soul, defeated by the betrayal of someone he had given his whole heart to—even if he denied that now… To her, that was reason enough for far more than just a firm ass-whupping.

Maybe she should finally listen to the nagging voice inside her head and tell him just that. It seemed simple enough, a few words spoken from the heart and it would at last be out of her system. After month and month of silence it would be out in the open, released from her heart and yet vague enough for him to take it one way or the other. Like a spectator from the outside she felt herself move to leave his embrace, but before she even had the chance to open her mouth, he beat her to it. A strained groan fell from his lips, eyes rolling heavily in their sockets and she thought she might have missed the moment in which she had already made her confession without even noticing, when she realised his agitation had nothing to do with her at all.

“Oh, come on. Of all the songs…”

Instant relief washed over her, causing a rush to the head that made her feel a little lightheaded. Enough for a cheeky grin to curl her lips.

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t even think about—” he warned, but too late.

“Go on now, go, walk out the door, just turn around now ‘cause you’re not welcome anymore…”

Her voice sounded all croaky and flat and she gave it her all to make it sound even worse. Knowing her absolute lack of talent, she usually avoided singing in public, and it had only ever happened on a handful of occasions, when the alcohol had made her indifferent to the physical pain she caused her poor audience. Andrew had always teased her relentlessly afterwards, but she knew all too well that he found it endearing and very amusing. He couldn’t deny that now, although his furrowed brows might give a different impression, but it didn’t take long until he accepted his defeat and the sweetest of smiles spread on his lips. And after leaving her hanging for another few lines, he joined in.

“I used to cry, but now I hold my head up high and you see me, somebody new, I'm not that chained-up little person still in love with you. And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free. Well, now I'm saving all my lovin' for someone who's loving me…”

They were both belting at the top of their lungs, all the way through the song, and when it finally ended, they fell back into their seats, giggling and panting violently as if they had just finished running a marathon. She was still holding her belly, completely wrapped up in their little cocoon of pure joy when she realised that something was off. She hadn’t noticed at first, but the taxi had come to a stop. It was hard to tell how long it had been standing in front of the red brick row house already, but if the driver’s face was anything to go by, it might have been quite a moment since their arrival.

He cleared his throat while he held her gaze in the mirror and Andrew’s laughter died away as well. She hated the cabby a little for taking this moment away from her friend and threw him a dirty look. Andy deserved being happy, so much, if only for the length of one single song. Careful to soften her gaze, she turned to look at him.

“Well, I guess this is me then.”

His answer was nothing but a tight lipped smile that left her with a thousand different options of interpretation. She was still trying to work out its meaning when for the second time this night, he took her completely by surprise.

It wasn’t the fact that he reached out for her to pull her in for a hug that startled her, he always did that before they said goodbye, but the way his embrace felt just a little tighter, his familiar scent more intoxicating than usual and the wool of his coat that suited him so exceptionally well unbelievably soft underneath her fingertips. In a mere moment he invaded her whole being, flowing through her freely until she could hear her soul hum in the silence that surrounded them.

It felt unholy to pull away, the sacrilege petrifying her in her seat, leaving her with no option but to stare at him. She had almost forgotten how beautiful his eyes were. That lush, mossy green, flecked with warm, earthy shades, she wanted to dive into them, and never return.

And there it was again, that one feeling she only ever had when she was with him. It was hard to pin down, it was not as if she was not complete without him. She was. But she had spent her whole life trying to fit in and with him, she didn’t have to. It just came naturally.

For a tiny moment, it seemed as if he was moving closer again. She noticed his eyes fall to her lips, or maybe she had imagined it. Either way, she couldn’t help herself from doing the same, watching the pink pillows open the slightest bit, a sigh waiting to fall, or a word, but it never came. Instead, a dog barked somewhere nearby and the moment was gone.

When she looked up, it was unmistakeable that the sadness had returned to his eyes as well. She hated it, hated every second they didn’t shine as brightly as they usually did. She missed the excitement they used to hold, the warmth and kindness they radiated from beneath his long lashes. And her heart broke for him all over again.

A soothing smile on her lips, the palm of her hand cupped his bearded cheek. She wanted to tell him that even if everyone were to abandon him, she would always be there. The words were forming in her mind so clearly, all she had to do was open her mouth and deliver them, but instead she heard herself say, “There is someone out there for you, Andrew. I’m sure of it.”

He returned her smile, faintly, but it was definitely there and it didn’t leave even as he turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand.

“Good night.”

“Night, love. I’ll call you in the morning.”

She nodded, and then she was gone. Andrew moved over to the spot where she had been sitting to watch her walking up the stairs. One hand pressed against the leather of the seat, he felt her warmth that still remained, felt his skin soaking it up to let it warm him from the inside.

She had always possessed this power, to warm him up and thaw his heart, even though he had thought that this time it had frozen for good. But the second he had taken her hand in that pub—whatever had driven him to do so—he had known that all would be well eventually. It had been so right, so natural, to feel her like that, if only he would be brave enough to tell her. But he could never, not as long as there was even the slightest possibility she didn’t feel the same. Because more than loving her in secret, it would hurt to lose her forever. He would rather have her as a friend than not at all because for him, there was no life without her.

There was no way he would ever tell her, but it was this exact truth that had ended his last relationship. Faced with the choice between her and anyone else in this world, it would always be her. No matter what. There had never been the tiniest chance he could have decided otherwise.

And now he was surer than ever that he had made the right choice. Maybe this night had made him delirious, he still couldn’t tell. She had been so close, filling first his senses and then his mind with nothing but her until he had let himself believe that this could really be it. His life as it was supposed to be. For a second he had even imagined that she was leaning in, that she wanted to kiss him just as badly as he wanted to seal her lips with his.

But even if she had, it was probably only pity speaking. Or worse, she might have thought that he needed a cheap substitute to drown his pain. And nothing could be further from the truth. He had almost been thankful for the bark that had interrupted them, without it he would never have found the strength to pull away and return her abrupt goodbye. Still, it was better this way. By morning he would have forced himself to forget about everything that could have been tonight, he would call her as he had promised and pretend that she didn’t hold his heart. It had always been like that. And it always would be.

She had almost made it to the door by now. Her steps already slowing while she was fumbling for the keys in her bag. He didn’t know how hard it was for her to hurdle the remaining distance between herself and the door. Especially with all the tears clouding her gaze. She had felt them coming even before the taxi door had closed behind her. And so she hadn’t looked back, afraid he might see. And now that she had almost made it, she couldn’t even find those bloody keys in her stupid bag.

It seemed like a miracle when she finally closed her hand around the cold metal to bring it to the dim light of the streetlamps. But her triumph had been too hasty, the keys gliding out of her slippery fingers and shattering onto the ground with an ugly clattering noise.

The frustration set loose more tears, forcing her to fish around blindly for them and when she had finally managed to find them, she fumbled around equally clumsily to find the keyhole. Her only solace was that she had heard the taxi pull away while she had been hunching on the ground, so at least nobody had seen. He hadn’t seen.

“You know, I was wondering,” she jolted upon the unexpected voice, her keys hitting the ground once more as she turned around in a hurry to find him right in front of herself. “When you said someone— Are you crying?”

“No,” she promptly replied, but it was useless to deny the obvious, she realised, as her croaky voice sounded through the silence, fresh tears still burning hot on her cheeks. And Andrew being Andrew, he didn’t hesitate. In the blink of an eye he was there, gentle hands cupping her face and wiping away the salty streams.

“Why are you crying, love?”

She didn’t answer, her throat sealed by a lump of fear. If she answered truthfully now, she would lose him. And she couldn’t, she mustn’t.

But he knew anyway. It was obvious from the way his forehead wrinkled and his eyes softened upon the realisation. She hadn’t expected the crooked smile though that slowly began to grace his lips.

“I see.”

His lips were even softer than she could have ever imagined, moving so tenderly with hers. And even though this was happening so fast that she didn’t know if she was awake or dreaming, she felt herself relax in his arms. Letting go of all her worries was suddenly so easy. Everything was easy with him.

#hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier #hozier imagine #hozier rpf #hozier fanfic #hozier fanfiction #apricity

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yurislotusgarden · 7 months

Note

Hii! could I request ranpo and chuuya with a fem s/o who makes cute bento boxes for their lunch at work? (I was curious on how this would go, feel free to add any details you want!)

My bento!

ʚїɞ Separately! Nakahara Chuuya, Ranpo Edogawa, Sigma x F!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 1764 (Chuuya - 537, Ranpo - 664, Sigma - 561)

ʚїɞ Have Sigma as an extra bcs my ass forgot it was meant to be Ranpo instead of him after I was done with Chuuya's part

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, pet names are used (barely), reader’s gender is not specified that much

Nakahara Chuuya!

ཐིཋྀ He loves the bentos so much, well more like the fact that you take time to make them for him

ཐིཋྀ Tries to always eat them

ཐིཋྀ Once, when you started making them, he didn’t eat the food because he was so busy that day, and when he had a little free time, Chuuya decided it was a better idea to go on a stress smoke break (He tries to limit smoking to the minimum he can if you don’t like smoking/the fact that he does it. He knows it’s because you care about his health)

ཐིཋྀ It ended with you fussing over him eating almost nothing that day and he doesn’t like causing you stress or making you worry so he makes sure to eat those bentos😭

ཐིཋྀ He may be an executive but this man is not embarrassed at all to eat those bentos in front of people, no matter how colorful or cutesy the food looks

ཐིཋྀ Food is food, he’s not gonna not eat cause you to worry just because the bento is one that doesn’t look like someone like him would eat

///////////////

“Lad, may I ask where do you get those bentos from?”

It was a long time since Kouyou noticed Chuuya’s bentos, and she tried to ignore just how much she wanted to try one. The only reason why she didn’t is because she doesn’t know where he is getting them from.

The young woman looked at many shops in Yokohama and saw a few places with similar bentos, but it was easy to see that none of the stores were the ones where Chuuya kept getting his lunch from.

…She really wanted one for herself, especially with how obvious it was that they were delicious, kept quiet about it tho.

Chuuya turned towards the older woman, whom he came to see as an older sister over the years.

“They’re not bought from a shop.”

“You don’t buy them?”

“Not a single one of them. Actually,-”

Kouyou was confused. Where did he get a bento from every single day? She knows the younger of the two probably wouldn’t bother spending his free time making food for lunch definitely a day before, even if he did, it wouldn’t be so colorful or detailed. There were even rice balls decorated as bears and stuff, it obviously took time to make one. But if he wasn’t buying them, then the only other option that came to her mind was-

“- [Name] makes them for me.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, and she’s yet to make one I dislike.”

It all makes sense now to the red-haired woman. You have more free time most of the time compared to Chuuya, and you were probably aware of the eating habits he had before.

The fact that you take time, quite a lot it seems if Kouyou was to guess, the bentos are even detailed, in a very cute style if she was to say, made a smile appear on her face.

“Mhm, you wanna try?”

“How could I refuse such an offer?”

The food was even better than she thought. Kouyou made a mental note to ask you if you would have a problem with making two bentos from time to time.

Edogawa Ranpo!

ཐིཋྀ Another reason as to why he’s dating you -you give extra homemade sweets to the Bentos-

ཐིཋྀ He doesn’t even need to try to remember to eat it because he ends up eating it before lunch anyway -the reason behind you making more than one bento usually-

ཐིཋྀ He fucking boasts to everyone about the food😭

ཐིཋྀ “See what I have here? HAHA! Something you don’t and probably never will!” ← totally not Ranpo to anyone else -and totally not him to Dazai and Atsushi about the fact that they will probably never have homemade food like him-

ཐིཋྀ Don’t make the bentos with him in the kitchen unless you have prepared double the amount of food you plan to use. He uses any opportunity to snack on the not-ready-yet bentos

ཐིཋྀ BUT! He will share with you if he notices you’re hungry or just generally wanna eat it <3

///////////////

“C’mon give me just a little piece!”

“Nope! [Name] made it for me! Make your own if you want a bento at work, Yosano-san!”

“I can’t make such a bento Ranpo-san!”

“Not my problem!”

With a pout, the brunette turned his chair away, trying to eat his food in peace. It’s one of his favorite bentos! You put his favorites in this one! The only thing he doesn’t like in it is the veggies which Ranpo would ignore or throw out but he knows that he won’t get his favorite candy made by you anytime soon if he does (the others will snitch if he throws them out, especially Dazai and Yosano they did that the one and only time he did so. He learned a lesson from that after you didn’t cook his favorite like you said you would that morning)

Ranpo could practically feel the eye-roll done by Yosano. “It’s not like it’s the only bento you had today.” It’s true, he ate a similar one 2 hours earlier. “Doesn’t matter. It’s my bento either way.” A sigh came from the woman.

And right when one would think his problem was solved, another arrived.

“Ranpo-san! What an interesting bento you have there!”

“Go away Dazai. I’m not giving you a single piece of my food!”

“Oh c’mon! You can spare a little!”

“Nope! Especially not when it’s [Name]’s cooking!”

Seriously, can’t they leave him alone? He knows your cooking is good, everyone at the agency knows that! But he wishes that you’d never let Dazai taste your food. The bandaged man has horrible eating habits, you both know that, and yet he always tries to get his hands on Ranpo’s bentos. The audacity!

Ranpo could tell that Dazai's annoying mouth was about to open again before someone interrupted him.

"I can make bentos for you too if you like them so much, Dazai-san"

Isn't that his angel who came to visit him at his oh-so-tiring job? Lovely timing, if Ranpo was to say, but there was one problem.

Among ‘hello’s and ‘hi’s from others upon noticing you, gasps could be heard, from 2 men specifically.

"You would do that for me?!"

"Excuse me?!"

What is this?! There's no way that you’re gracing anyone else with the perfection that are your his bentos!

“Hm?” It’s easy to see for anyone in the room that you were confused.

“[Name]-chan, if you could be so nice, could I ask for a bento with cra-”

“No no no! Shut up Dazai! She’s not making you any bentos! In your dreams!”

In the end, while Ranpo and Dazai at first thought that you wouldn’t make the taller brunette a bento after your conversation at that moment, you indeed did as a surprise.

The best detective in the world didn’t like that but he allowed you to after bribing him and reminding him that if you can get Dazai to eat, you will, no matter if Ranpo will allow you to make a bento for him or not.

Dazai's happy scream the next day could probably be heard throughout the whole building.

Sigma!

ཐིཋྀ He didn’t think he’d be able to adore you more than he already does, and yet you found a way to make him do so

ཐིཋྀ He tries to eat the bentos every day but it isn’t that rare that he forgets about eating altogether when faced with a mountain of paperwork or problems in the casino

ཐིཋྀ He loves how they look and taste. He, at one point, will ask if you can teach him how to cook. Like not even necessarily a bento, just to learn since he doesn’t want the kitchen to end up in flames one day, he’s aware he sucks at cooking

ཐིཋྀ He probably would be a little embarrassed by eating it. Not because of how colorful or cutesy they are, but because of the looks he gets from people who see it.

ཐིཋྀ The stares aren’t criticizing or anything, others just don’t expect that their boss/the manager of the casino would eat food that looks like that

ཐིཋྀ Someone was probably jealous because he has homemade bentos like that and they have some store-bought sandwiches 💀

///////////////

“It’s mine actually. Sorry, I forgot to take this from here earlier.”

The man standing in front of the bar was shocked.

He’s been sitting there and drinking not too much for some time now. At one point he noticed the bartender taking out a bento from under the bar, the lid see-through enough to see the food inside. He has to say, the detail and overall look were very cute, it definitely took time to make it look so.

The man had thought that the bento was made by someone for the bartender (In his mind it was a fair thought as he didn’t think that one could buy a bento like that anywhere close to a place like this. Especially if you work there).

The slightly shorter man changed his thought upon noticing that the bartender didn’t touch the food he had taken out (later on the lunch break he took out something else to eat)

Around 2 hours after the lunch break, -the bento still untouched, he noticed- the man decided to finally ask, curiosity winning over after all the time spent at the bar seat.

“Excuse me, who is the owner of the bento? I couldn’t help but notice that it hasn’t been touched at all.”

And he really chose the worst time to ask that question didn’t he? Right as the person to whom the bento belonged to, came.

“I-It’s yours sir?”

“Yes, why?”

How is he supposed to answer? That he didn’t think that such a cute-looking bento -that if he could he would consider stealing, it looks delicious and definitely better than his sandwich- can belong to the ever so stoic and calm manager of the sky casino?

“No reason! Was just that curious, that’s all! after all, the bento was lying here for the past, almost, 3 hours by now.”

“Ah, understandable then”

The bi-colored-haired man turned to the bartender, who was already giving the box over to him.

“Thank you for keeping it here for me, Shuichi-kun”

“no problem, Sigma-san. [Name]-san also told me to tell you-”

Yeah, the man needs a break from the confusion and shock for the next week.

And Sigma? He’s just happy you leave the bentos somewhere he can take them from when you know he’s busy.

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

Do not copy or translate my works on/to any site

#Can't believe I realized I'm writing a wrong character only after I was done #like completely #wtf #bsd x reader #bsd #bsd x y/n #bungo stray dogs #bsd x you #x reader #sigma x reader #chuuya bsd #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #ranpo x reader #ranpo bsd #bsd ranpo #ranpo bungou stray dogs

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jeridandridge · 3 months

Text

Atomic

Jacob takes Melissa to a gay bar.

CW: Implications of religious trauma, internalized homophobia.

In the break room at Abbott Melissa sits tapping her boot on the floor while Janine jabbers on about the newest situation she wants Barbara’s guidance on. While the kid goes on and on the redhead sits at the table looking over her shoulder every so often at Jacob.

The younger teacher sits at the table with Janine nervously nibbling his sandwich. No one wants Melissa Schemmenti looking at them like they have a target on their back that they don’t know about.

“What?!” He shrugs almost irritated looking at the redhead.

Melissa shakes her head going back to her phone. “Nothin, kid. Just uh, come to my room after the bell.” With that she grabs her stuff and goes back to her class for the afternoon.

Dropping his sandwich the young teacher looks to Barbra with an agape mouth. The older woman holds up her hand gathering her things.

“I don’t know a thing, Jacob.”

In her classroom, Melissa sits at her desk getting back to the grading she was doing before lunch. She has five minutes until she has to get her kids from the lunch room, and in those five minutes she has to talk herself out of a panic attack.

She doesn’t know why she’s this way but she hates it. Her thoughts run wild about the topic. She’s old. She’s divorced. She’s not as thin as she once was. Who could want her? Who could want her when she’s not sure what she wants. The cross around her neck feels like it weighs a ton, enough to pull her down and down further and further into her somber thought. The thoughts only stop when her watch chimes alerting her it’s time to get the kids from the lunch room.

At the end of the day Jacob contemplates shimmying down the side of the school from his window so he doesn’t have to go see Melissa. He paces back and forth before he finally gives in. “I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go!” He huffs grabbing his bag and leaving his room.

The young teacher is too nervous to even give Mr. Morton a fake friendly smile as the man says hello to him, too afraid for his own life. Keeping his shoulders back he holds onto the strap of his bag tightly as he pokes his head into the redheads classroom.

“What’s your deal over there?” Melissa nods looking up from her desk as Jacob looks side to side and up at the ceiling.

“Just checking, making sure there aren’t any traps or surprises.”

“What are you talkin about, kid?” She rolls her eyes, “I just wanna talk to ya.”

Noting the serious tone shift in her voice, he comes in leaning against the kids desk across from Melissa. He’d never seen her look nervous like she does now, fingers fidgeting and no eye contact.

“Melissa, whatever you need to say, you can and I appreciate you feeling comfortable enough to tell me.” He explains gently. In reality he expected her to snap at him and say forget it, instead the redhead lets out a breath and motions for him to come closer as she gets up closing her classroom door.

The two teachers are quiet as they both stand closer to each other. Melissa can feel her heart beating against her ribcage and she gathers up the courage.

“Listen kid, I might give ya a hard time and tease and all that, but I do respect you.” She tells the young man. “And I think you can help me figure some things out.”

Jacob, for once, is at a loss for words.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinkin, after breaking it off with Gary and all,” she waves her hand, “and I think I also like women.” She finally lets it out, feeling instantly better.

Jacob smiles at his co worker feeling honored.

“Well first off thank you for telling me this very personal, inspirational info. Saying something like that out loud, it feels good doesn’t it?”

“It actually does,” she smiles. “It feels airy. But I guess I just wanna know how to start. I mean, I ain’t young anymore and catholic guilt is a bitch.” She shrugs.

“Let me ask you this,” he starts, “Do you want to explore, and get to know the real Melissa?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “That’s the point ain’t It?”

Jacob has to hide his smile, grin growing on his face. “Tell you what, Zach and I are going out this weekend, nothing crazy, just a bar. Why don’t you come with us?”

Melissa tries to come up with an excuse, she really does, her stomach is in knots at just the thought of a gay bar.

“Okay, but we ain’t telling anyone about this.” She points at him in a warning.

“But what abou-“

“No one, kid.” She cuts him off shooting him a look.

Jacob nods comparing himself. “I’ll email you the details.”

Saturday comes all too quickly for Melissa. After a day of trying to distract herself with cleaning and cooking, her house is spotless and she has four different dishes in her fridge big enough to feed a small army and even that doesn’t slow the clock down.

At nine o’clock she finds herself walking arm in arm with Jacob to the bar, Zach the sweet guy he is, behind them.

“Honey! They’re doing karaoke already!” He smiles looking over at the crowded karaoke stand in the corner.

Melissa looks around the dimly lit bar, spotting black lights, rainbows, and plenty of decor on the walls.

“Go on, honey, I’m sticking with Melissa tonight.” Jacob squeezes his hand before Zach goes off with a smile.

Melissa stands with her hand on her hip, her leather jacket, her armor not even able to give her the confidence she needs. feeling totally out of place in a bar like this not because it’s a gay bar, but because everyone’s so young she pats Jacob’s arm. “G’head, kid. I’ll be at the bar.”

If there’s one thing Melissa knows it’s where to find a nice bourbon or a crisp glass of wine. When Melissa saddles up to the bar she quirks a brow at the pretty woman behind it, toned arms on display and long hair in a pony tail.

“Hi gorgeous, what can I get for ya?” The bartender gives Melissa a smile that makes her stomach flip. The redhead knows how it works, she bartended in college herself, she knows bartenders flirt to get more tips.

“Bourbon neat, hon.” She orders with a friendly smiles.

Grabbing a glass the bartender fixes her drink sliding it over. “So, are you friends with Jacob? I saw you come in with him and I’ve never seen you before.” She smiles.

“You know Jacob?” Melissa quirks a brow, “That Jacob over there?”

“Yeah,” the bartender laughs with a nod. “Jacob Hill. We’re friends, sorta.”

“I give him crap, but he’s a good kid.” Melissa nods. “I’m surprised he’s friends with a,” she trails off looking at the woman, “toned, tattooed, twenty something.”

The bartender tips her head back in a laugh, leaning forward with her arms on the bar to get closer. “Thirty something actually. This is my bar.” She smiles. “What about you, gorgeous? How do you know Jacob?”

There’s that word again. It’s catches her off guard once more and this time the stunning woman is even closer, a warm, raspberry vanilla smell hits her nose. Suddenly the blaring music and the sounds of glasses clanking and chairs moving become too much on top of her thoughts.

“Woah, hey, you okay?” The bartender asks gently resting her hand on the redhead’s.

At the touch of the woman’s hand Melissa pulls away almost like a flame has grazed her skin.

“Sorry, sorry,” she shakes her head, “I’m-“

“Don’t sweat it,” the bartender smiles. “Hey maya!” She calls over her shoulder, “cover the bar for me. You, come with me,” she waves Melissa over as she comes out from behind the bar.

Melissa stands and follows the woman, almost drooling when she sees the tightest jeans known to mankind.

The bartender reaches back gently grabbing her hand. “I don’t normally do this, but since you’re Jacob’s friend I’ll make an exception,” she smiles leaning in towards Melissa’s ear.

Melissa’s breath hitches in her throat at the closeness of the woman. Through a hallway the woman opens up an office door revealing a pretty normal room with a few posters and a pride flag on the wall behind a desk.

“It can be a little too rowdy out there,” the bartender smiles handing her a cold water bottle from the fridge.

Sitting on a black leather couch Melissa sips the water hearing a muffled Blondie song from the outside, the beat almost as fast as her heart drumming against her ribcage.

She eyes the bartender who sits at her desk, arms above her head in a stretch.

“Sorry, hon. It’s been a weird time recently.” Melissa apologizes.

“No need to an apologize, gorgeous. I’m a bartender, I might as well be a therapist.” She jokes. “If you weren’t Jacob’s friend I wouldn’t have brought you back here to my secret lair.”

This gets a laugh out of Melissa. “Some lair, it’s not dark and mysterious or anything. And you don’t have to keep calling me that. I’m Melissa.” She finally shares.

“Nah, I’ll still call you gorgeous.” She smiles yet again, making Melissa’s heart jump. Sipping the water she shakes her head.

“I knew it’d be a gamble coming here.” She sighs. “I can’t even handle talking to a woman.” This makes the bartender frown.

“First time in a gay bar?” She asks, not a single note of judgement in her voice.

“Yeah,” Melissa nods. “Jacob convinced me to come even though I’m noneya business years too old to be here.”

The bartender sits back in her desk chair almost examining the redhead, making Melissa shift in her seat. She knows the woman sees right through her, soft eyes meeting hers.

“You know, one night I was here, it was a Tuesday,” the bartender starts softly, “There wasn’t much happening yet, it wasn’t even seven, and this old woman comes in with her great granddaughter. They both take a seat at the bar so I come over like always, and we start talking. The woman was 93 years old and you know what she said to me?”

Melissa sits with a small smile playing on her lips as she listens closely, shaking her head no, enthralled by the story.

“She said she just turned 93 and finally, after decades, had the courage to be her authentic self. Isn’t that beautiful?”

The question makes Melissa think. Really think. All her life she did her best to please others, stuck with tradition, and did her best to make her family proud despite trying to go against the grain as best she could.

“Yeah, it is beautiful.” She hums quietly parting her lips to speak again, only to be interrupted by the door opening.

“Hey, boss the ice machine is jammed again.” The other bartender pokes her head in.

“Alright,” the woman sighs, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

When the door closes again Melissa stands up, following the woman back into the hall towards the music and crowd.

“Listen, I’m pretty new at this sorta thing,” Melissa says shyly, not like herself. “But I’d like to talk to you more, get coffee or dinner sometime? doesn’t have to mean anything.” She adds quickly.

The bartender gives her a soft smile, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “When you’re ready, Melissa, you know where to find me.”

With a wink and a gentle squeeze, Melissa’s left standing in the doorway of the hall with a ridiculous smile on her face watching the woman spring into action.

She’d have to thank Jacob.

#we need more Melissa x Jacob content ok #melissa schemmenti x jacob hill #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti x you

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aconflagrationofmyown · 8 months

Text

|| Memphis to Fort Hood

Timeline alterations: Spring of 1958

Theme: THAT ASKED FOR BABY ANNOUNCEMENT, sorta

So, so many thanks to all my darlings who I throw my ideas at and they in turn bolster my resolve and refine my daydreams.

Warnings: good ole fashioned 50’s misogyny, Elvis being rather poorly represented? -for the reasons of this being written as critique?…nothing explicit but themes of free use, subspace, paranoia and eating disorders (which ends up being morning sickness so no really big deal there, just wanted to be careful.

A note on the style of this particular interlude: One of my obsessions with this universe has been using multiple points of view and narrative styles, ultimately adding to my own expansive delusion that this AU really was the verified version of his life. 🤓 And see, if it had been we would have magazines and newspapers, speciations and interviews galore, all of which I’ve enjoyed fabricating in the past and intend to continue. Now I’ve cooked up something else, a faux cultural study on what would have been the massively studied and criticized impact of a couple this peculiar and idolized -Mrs. Presley and Other Martyrs:

Strangely, if one looks for the first cracks in a marriage that outlasted five decades, nine children, assasination attempts, adultery, rock n’ roll and the most publicized divorce of its time, one might find that the first fissure had begun to open by the Presley’s third week anniversary. Outlasted, that’s the key. But that doesn’t mean there weren’t things to outlast. The old curse of stepping outside Graceland and finding trouble found them early on, as did their tenacity to simply ignore and surmount the witch’s brew of criticism, ego and exhaustion.

It took 38 hours by train to reach Fort Hood from Memphis Tennessee in the year 1958. Time enough for legends to be made. Dynamics to be established. A couple dozen demons to resurface.

And impressions to be formed. Lasting impressions of herself by the scrutinizing public that Elaine Presley reportedly never forgave Elvis for -a remarkable instance of a grudge in a woman so notoriously absolvent.

At the start of the journey she boarded the train at Memphis a sheltered girl tucked under the arm of the most famous man on earth, her own face captured without obstruction for the first time by the press, wedding band flashing and virginal blush staining her features at the attention and the queries hurled at her. The most envied woman in the country hadn’t known she was wanted a month before and by the time she stepped off in Texas, Mrs Presley was the doe eyed subject and demure recipient of a hundred varied opinions, editorials, fan tokens and bouquets.

What her rushed wedding may have slighted Elaine Presley of in terms of a bridal fuss, this dutiful journey made up for in sheer abundance of notoriety. What her sequestered honeymoon had sheltered her from in terms of being tabloid fodder was more than made up for on the trip as Elaine Presley got paraded on the train balcony at each stop along the route by her beaming groom:

A sauve cad in a uniform who beamed at the crowd with a cocky leer that suggested much in regards to his reserved bride and was in stark contrast to the sober and tear streaked boy he’d been when he came up this way to say goodbye to his mama weeks before. This little couple and their little rebellion of a marriage was manic in appearance and in gaiety, and even the most charitable of well-wishers found the occasion they were celebrating a bit forced, a bit dire, a bit off kilter for something as sanctified and sober as matrimony.

This was compounded by the new groom’s attitude which seemed as eager to display the varied trousseau he decked this almost catatonically pliant girl in -with a change nearly on the hour- as he was to introduce his new wife to his nation’s worth of fans that crowded the rails as they hustled south.

As Hedda Hopper unapologetically noted in her column that week “…it makes a person wonder if this sensational canary of an entertainer is too proud of having conquered a sensible girl child into being his wife to realize he just married himself off the market. America’s daydream is now a taken man and no one in the nation seems ready for that, least of all him.”

Married, to Elvis Presley, was perhaps more of a reality than Miss Hopper and her column gave him credit for, although the old spinster might’ve been aghast if she knew what marital duties the young star prioritized over others. The folks who caught sight of the flushed couple at each stop might’ve had a suspicion. Certainly Elvis’ ever present entourage of childhood friends and relations couldnt hope to be left in the dark.

Even if the close quarters on the route, the thin traincar doors and shared meals were not enlightening enough, Elvis Presley gloated too much in being a new husband to possibly retain any mystery. Love drunk and determined to stay so lest panic or grief overtake him, his friends recall his unreasonable amounts of excitement and generosity in detail regarding his “lil wife.”

-And his skills as a lover, of course.

Nothing had changed for Elvis from his time on the road with these naughty friends of his except that now all his famous drive and obsession was channeled towards one rather overwhelmed teenage girl. One who had, in typical 1950’s fashion, promised to obey his every whim. Turns out, trapped in a train car for over a day with an insomniatic sex addict uncovers an astounding amount of whims that their more placid honeymoon at Graceland had kept at a low simmer.

Whether tamed by the supposed influence of his mother’s ghostly presence at Graceland or whether in a fit of gentlemanly restraint for an untried bride, Elvis Presley had, by all accounts, played the gentleman while at home in those first weeks of marriage. While happy and smug -so much so that the story went that when the colonel appeared at Graceland to assure himself that the secret wedding hadn’t happened, one look at Elvis and the girl on his lap assured him it had both occurred and been consummated- he had nevertheless been considerate, gentle and almost tutoring in aiding Elaine to adjust to her new life.

Trapped in the claustrophobic buzz of the train car speeding south to a life of regimented discipline and obedience in the army, the antsy rebel in him found his boredom and dread peaked beyond endurance and distracted himself with the new and ever captivating charms of his new wife.

Elvis Presley with a goal could be a dedicated and diligent man but without one he was a chaotic force of nature that could catch all those around him in a whirlpool of fun or an avalanche of insanity. Pursuing Elaine Presley had brought out the best in him and so intently did he peruse her with every traditional method of wooing a typical southern girl, that she had quite forgotten the more frightening aspects of his temperament that she and her father had been witness to before. She could be forgiven for thinking he had matured past such outbursts and compulsions he had been thrall to in his early fame. Subdued by grief and spurred by ambition to have her, he had been impressively restrained upon his return to Memphis and driven by a rededication of his life to the old values of his mama’s ambitions for him, he had managed to continue it into the first days of marriage.

The upcoming reality of life within the rigorous confines of Fort Hood was too strong for such flimsy good intentions. As was the oppressive reality of his mother’s permanent absence in his life. His love, which had always been a somewhat smothering thing that required as much as it gave, was needy yet inexpressive in those early days and according to his daughter Ella, who divulged some of her mother’s confidences in her own book, Elaine was yet to learn how terrified her young husband was of a future that most would have envied.

Scared of being alone, yet suspicious that his presence was merely being tolerated, young husband Elvis Presley had every hope he could train a young girl by conjugal powers alone to be loyal to him where others failed. In a fit of hubris and optimism, he chose for this amorous experiment the one woman in town who admitted to not being in love with him. This fear and frustration expressed itself in an appalling physical demand on her bodily attentions. One that their fellow train car occupants could not ignore yet found themselves incapable of preventing, bound by the antiquated respect of a husband's rights.

“I swear he’d not leave her alone for a full hour,” Red West recalled in his book, reflecting on the times he spent in the Presley’s entourage, “and he’d be back there with her for hours at a time, then pop out and then right back again. If he couldn't sleep then he didn’t see why she should.”

Billy Smith, his cousin and a man adamant about staying on Mrs. Presley’s good side over the years, would only admit discreetly, “He was utterly in love with her, had been for years and couldn’t quite pace himself once he got the green light, so to speak. He adored her and was in a bit of a state of shock that she was even better than he’d hoped, she was like the first thing to exceed his high expectations. She was very genuinely kind to him and he ate it up. On the train ride he was bored and it was like taking a bored kid to their favorite sweet shop. And Elvis Presley had a big ole bank account to cash in.”

Big enough, apparently, that by lunch of that day the ever proper young Mrs Presley, in her perfectly starched new outfits and watery lined eyes, was having trouble sitting still at table, much to the comment of guests and friends. After excusing herself early she went back to their suite. Elvis was seen following within minutes. Thirty minutes later the train stopped and Elaine Presley, in a fresh outfit and an uncharacteristic wobble to her stride was paraded by her husband on the balcony to the roar of envious onlookers.

The train moved on, she excused herself again, as did he moments later.

“We could hear them, it became like road noise.” Red West, long used to Elvis’ various rendezvous while on the road in the past took this marital overindulgence in stride, “Initially it was kinda a laugh and a grin about it with all the folks in the dining car, but then we could hear her tiring out, and he’d keep at it and it got a bit annoying, all her pleading and him going on about bein’ able to do anything he pleased with her. He’d come out and brag to us when we told him they were being loud.”

“He was very proud of how sensitive she was,” Joe Esposito does not bother to sound impressed himself when relating this confidence, “he’d tell us how she was a squirter and she got all sensitive real fast before he was even close to done and he’d just have to hold her and make her let him finish, sometimes make her keep going when she swore she couldn’t. He said he was training her to respond the way he wanted. It didn’t occur to him maybe she was made different than the ones he’d been with before, he just thought he was a damn good husband. Figure she just wanted a nap and maybe some Vaseline. Nobody dared to tell him to give her a break.”

Ultimately Vernon Presley ventured to do just that at breakfast the next morning, after his daughter in law had skipped dinner the night before and breakfast that day from a ubiquitous headache that was likely not an ache in the head at all.

“He was so timid about it as Elvis was in a mood, worn out and hadn’t slept, stabbin’ his eggs like they’d done him wrong.” Lamar Fike remembers the incident, “Vernon just spoke up real gentle like and says ‘son, why don’t you go easy on the little lady, she’s real fresh and delicate,’ Elvis just glared at him so he tried jokin by sayin’ something like ‘you got the rest of your lives for this, don’t gotta cram it all in today.’ Elvis didn’t even try to act dumb, he just got mad and stood up from the table and said ‘daddy, you mind your own business, reckon I don’t need lessons for how to take care of a wife, not from you leastwise.’ And that was a low blow, you could see it on Vernon’s face and like I said, Elvis stood up, with his napkin still tucked in his shirt neck, and went back there to her again like he was makin’ love to spite his old man. Ya just don’t tell Elvis what to do with what’s his.”

Charlie Hodge wasn’t there and in an admirable display of keeping in his lane only commented that, “Elvis told me they danced a lotta the way, had the old records on, trying to keep the cramp away. He’d get antsy on trips.”

Marty Lacker had the decency to at least be sheepish and a little apologetic about the times when relating his version of events, “Just a different time back then, ya know? Didn’t occur to us to step in. We’d say a thing or two but ultimately that’s between a husband and wife to sort out and back then wives just didn’t fuss. It all worked out, they sorted it. Elaine never breathed a word of anything and we wouldn’t think of saying anything to her. Not even after the little emergency, you just don’t talk about that stuff. It’s not fitting. Even Elvis knew that, he didn’t appreciate the advice or adminitions from his daddy. Braggin’ between boys us one thing but talkin’ about what goes on between a man and his wife beyond that it’s, it’s just, it’s not fittin. It’s just not a thing to be discussed, you know? Different times, man.”

The little emergency in question was a case of Elvis bursting out of the train car an hour or so after lunch on the second day in search of his paternal grandmother, old Dodger as the family called her, full of consternation that his young bride was unresponsive.

“I really think he rode her silly, that’s all there was to it.” Joe shrugs at this bold diagnosis, “He’d brag about how out of it she’d get when he would start again after she thought he was done. Said she’d space right out and start shakin’ and shivering and get plain stupid. I think he liked that, makin’ a smart girl feel dumb. He’d dress her up and redo her makeup and take her out like that in front of fans, and they all got the impression she was a little bozo. Then I guess he just kept at it one time too long.”

Elvis told Dodger that his wife was not fully concious, although his heightened concern was less regarding her insensibility than the fact that neither a light smack to the cheek nor a resumption of activities on his part could rouse Elaine like it had on previous occasions. Vernon dunked her head in a bowl of ice water with no success, Billy tried to give her aspirins but she wasn’t awake to swallow them down.

Dodger prescribed a drink of water for the young girl, a cold compress to the nether regions and a nap -sans husband. Disgruntled but terrified of losing yet another woman in his life, and with his own cheek stinging from his grandmother's wrath, Elvis Presley secluded himself to playing cards with the boys in the smoking lounge for the remaining three hours of the train ride while his grandmother watched over his bride and her precariously suggestible headspace.

“ ‘I done told her again and again to hold it if she gets so excitable after she comes that she can’t stand to take me longer. But she’s a hair trigger, couple stokes and she’s off, keeps comin’ all the same then acts like I’m skinnin’ her when I keep goin. I gotta finish man, what else am I supposed to do?” Red recalls Elvis bemoaning his bride’s hyper responsiveness like a martyr recounting his sentence -while wearing his signature sulky expression that did nothing to hide the smug pride beneath.

By the time Elaine Presley wobbled off the train onto the platform at Killeen Texas and stiff smilingly took her seat beside Elvis in a taxi to their little crackerbox house on base, the world at large had a firm opinion that the new Mrs Presley was a pretty little thing with dark features and a rosebud mouth, a nice figure and sweet charm but possessing a vacant sorta look to her. It suggested a gullibility so utterly untrue to her real nature that three decades worth of wit and shrewdness could hardly undue their initial impression of her.

Elaine Presley would ultimately have her revenge for such a first impression but it would cost her much in the process and Elvis Presley even more.

The buzz of press did not decline upon her arrival. With Private Presley busy soldiering all day, it fell to his young wife to sort the intricate social circle of his entourage and fellow soldiers, to manage the fanmail and contracts as well as set up house as best she could in such impermanent lodgings. All these precarious duties were stalked and documented beyond all sense, photographs of her and her choice of groceries dutifully printed for readers across the country to guess at what she planned to feed their idol for dinner. If the sharp glint in her eyes, captured on occasion when the intrusion became absurd, hinted at something beyond the vacant and ravished doll of the train ride, no one was eager to investigate. A sharp set to the mouth or a dangerous glitter in the eye got one called a bitch and it was better to be vacuous as a woman than to be venomous. So Elaine was caught smiling with her vegetables and spending her afternoons baking beneath a Texas sun while chatting with snide fellow housewives.

It was the first bootcamp for a lifelong grueling ordeal that Elaine Presley submitted to with grace and tenacity.

If her wit and her marital irregularities were glossed over by the papers in their eagerness to find the noble idyll amongst the immoral muck of rock and roll, what did not go unnoticed was the increasingly wane aspect of what should have been a rosy and glowing young wife. Shortly after arriving in Texas, Elaine’s already strained nerves seemed to have frazzled beyond small fits of fainting and what was once a private display of weariness kept between her and the implacable Dodger. Soon it became bouts of vomiting and exhaustion beyond any reasonable excuse.

The public noticed her figure grow slight and frail, as did Elvis. No longer was she slight but sickly instead, and a milky complexion was now waxy and unbecoming in contrast to her dark hair. The public were concerned for her, not for her health so much as for the future of the readership should her picturesque ordeals unravel further.

Battling his own preoccupation and exhaustion in the hard crucible of army bootcamp, Elvis’ one solace was the charming little haven he had created for himself with a wife and domesticity shipped in like so many plates and doilies. When this fairytale grew pale and bony and even the most cheerful of liars couldn’t convince him his “Tinkerbell” was fine, Elvis Presley grew increasingly paranoid of something fatal having cursed the women in his life. Frustrated at Elaine for allowing herself to grow so weak, his friends recall his behavior towards her vasciaiting from aching tenderness to angry remonstrances at her to eat and to rest and take care of herself. He even paced his own indulgences and begged her not to bring him the usual treats she’d sneak into barracks during the heat of afternoon. He pampered and berated, prayed and cursed.

None of these precautions were sufficient to build her up and alarmed beyond any reassurance, Elvis Presley packed his young bride into a car in the early summer of their first marriage and, having a five hour furlough from the army, drove her himself into the nearby hospital. The statement tossed to the press waiting outside was mild sinus congestion.

Twenty minutes later these two world wide famous young adults stumbled out in a daze of knowledge that they were about to be parents for the first time.

A severe case of twins -and the rigorous discipline of making them- having caused all the raucous.

No longer scared of abandonment, imminent loss or rebellion on his wife’s part, Elvis Presley softened considerably in the next months, the looming likelihood of a separation with his deployment softening him even further. It was the first case of children saving -and complicating- one of the most volatile and devoted couples of the 20th century.

By the first few weeks of the second trimester, Elaine Presley was both filled out enough and sufficiently cheery to regain the accolades lost to her by the press during her first. Finding few friends to be had amongst jealous soldiers' girlfriends and snooty Sargeant’s wives, as well as having been abandoned by most childhood companions after becoming mistress of Graceland, Elaine, never to be out maneuvered by bad luck, turned those publicized grocery store runs into social occasions, her growing belly eliciting advice and solicitations from wise old Texan grandma’s and rancher’s wives.

Accompanied by the stoically indomitable Dodger, Elaine could be found at geriatric swim classes at the local pool in a bid to stay cool during the heat of summer, at smoky poker games at Billy Bob’s honky tonk where she was the lone abstainer from the free flowing bourbon and became winner of a mechanical bull riding competition against a Navy Pilot.

It was a win for the infantry that night and even Elvis drank a cold one in celebration of her winnings that she spent on quenching the Hell on Wheels squadron at the adjacent saloon. Those Sargeant’s wives got somehow even more acrid after that.

Whether there was a correlation between this heated ride-off and said Navy Pilot’s face ending up black and blue the next day from some jealous young husband’s fist, was anyone's conjecture. Either way, Elvis Presley was likely too busy for such petty displays of insecurity, he was hiding in the lavatory most times to get away from his recently energized and insatiable young wife whose visits to Fort Hood soon became a byword and euphemism for something else besides visitation.

Altogether the Presley’s in Texas was an eclectic and occasionally damaging PR debut, but not without its merits.

The nation decided the new Mrs. Presley may have been a little short in the smarts department but she made pregnancy look fun again and that was rather charming and not a little rebellious, as was unapologetically marrying Elvis Presley right from under their noses. And Elvis? Well, it would be two long years before the world got any candid, civilian, unrepentant opinion out of Private Presley.

Hope you enjoyed! 💋

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#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #sarge and lil mama #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #austin butler elvis #austin elvis x reader #elvis smut #austin elvis smut #Elvis #elvis 2022 #50’s elvis

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oftenwantedafton · 3 months

Text

A New Afton - Stepfather Steve Raglan/William Afton x Stepdaughter Reader

Chapter 8

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content, daddy kink, praise kink, minor violence

Also available on AO3

taglist @yellowbunnydreams

It’s one of those rare rainy nights in Hurricane when the woman enters the bar.

Friday evening and not long after the 9-5 shift has concluded and the room is already filling.

This latest entry climbs up onto one of the barstools and orders. Slides back down to remove her jacket and place it on the stool. Wallet clutched in hand. Pencil skirt, blouse with one button undone. A small gold chain with a cross at her throat.

The man beside her had not meant to look more than once. But he does. He looks at her and as if sensing his eyes she regards him. A glass is set on a beverage napkin in front of her. She reaches for it. No ring on her finger, though that doesn’t mean anything nowadays. He figures she’s near his age, a little younger. Late twenties, early thirties at most. Takes a dainty sip of the clear mixed cocktail. Her nails are long, polished.

His own are ragged. Cuticles unkempt. Nail beds and fingers and creases of his palms forever stained from the machinery he works on. The animatronics have wreaked havoc on him in more ways than one. He has a ring on his finger. He has a wife and children. He shouldn’t be looking. But he does.

The chatter in the restaurant is white noise. He signals the bartender for another round for both of them. His own drink is amber. Whiskey. She murmurs a soft protest, then thanks him. The liquor runs smooth over his tongue. The ice cubes in her glass click together gently. He rests his arm on the counter. Hers settles near his. Almost making contact. Their eyes link. Another round. Another.

Any caution he might have considered is now drowned beneath the alcohol he’s imbibed. He doesn’t usually drink. And certainly not this quantity. He’s willing to bet the woman beside him doesn’t either. Her cheeks are flushed, pink and pretty. He likes how soft she looks. So different from the alloys and the circuits and the gears and the cables he surrounds himself with everyday.

He helps her put on her coat. Helps her remove it again in the back of his car. The rough engineer’s hands tear her nylons in their frenzy. He licks her mouth open. She lowers herself onto him. The windows fog. Little whimpers and sighs. His beard chafes the skin of her throat. She tightens around him and he spills into her.

They never exchange names or numbers. She straightens her clothing and walks away. He sits behind the wheel and listens to the rain.

***

The next morning the guilt is heavy. Regret. His daughter is missing and the knots twist in his stomach.

“I made a terrible mistake last night, Will,” he says to his business partner.

Afton looks different this morning. His eyes are fever bright. There is a flush to his usually pale skin. He looks exultant, as if he’s discovered something. He knows the look well. He’d seen in during their college years. In the years that have followed when they’d founded the business.

“It’s not your fault Charlie’s missing. I’m sure she’ll turn up. I’ll help look for her,” William says. There is something in his smile. Meant to be reassuring, but it does not quite meet his eyes.

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, yes, I’m worried about her, but it’s not just that.”

“Judging from your scent I can see you spent some time at the local watering hole.” The pale eyed man folds his arms across his chest.

“There was a woman.”

“Ah.” Just that. William seems to understand immediately where this is heading.

“It just…happened.”

“Of course it did.” The seated man cannot tell if the other is mocking him or not. “Did you at least take precautions?”

“No. I mean, unless she’s on birth control. I don’t know.” He drags a hand through his hair. “You’re not…you’re not going to say anything to…”

“No. Your secret is safe with me, old friend.”

He sighs heavily. “We have to find Charlie. I hope she’s alright.”

“I’m sure she’s absolutely fine. Probably just hiding. We’ll find her tucked away cozy somewhere, I’m certain.” He smiles again. It is not warm and it does not reassure the other man. A hand reaches to squeeze his arm. There is something staining one of his fingers. Rust colored, except he doubts that that is what it is. It looks more like…

“Shall we start looking?”

Henry Emily swallows and nods, following William Afton out of the manager’s office.

***

You slump into the kitchen chair—the one you’d previously occupied, now that your mother has returned—and look across the table at your stepfather.

You see Steve lift and set his fork back down without utilizing the utensil. Your mother is talking about her trip. You inhale and the bearded man exhales.

“Is everything alright? You haven’t touched your food.”

“I’m not really hungry,” he says. His eyes have not left your face.

You dig your fork into the pile of fluffy scrambled eggs and take a bite. It is ash in your mouth. You struggle to chew and swallow past the lump in your throat. It takes every effort not to begin crying again.

Eventually you plead unfinished homework and retreat to your room. Your mother enters soon after, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You seem upset. Did something happen?”

“I’m fine. Just a little stressed with school.” You force a smile.

“That’s a pretty necklace. Who got you that?”

You’d forgotten you’re still wearing the heart your stepdad had gifted you. “Oh. I picked it out for myself.” You clutch the pendant, tracing the curves of its shape.

“Sweetheart, you know you can talk to me about anything. Is it a boy at school that’s bothering you?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend at school. Honestly, mom.” You slide the pendant back and forth on the chain.

She hesitates. “Was everything okay while I was gone? With Steve?”

“Yeah. He’s been great. You don’t need to worry, mom, honestly.”

“I’m going to get started on the housework. I’m around if you want to talk, okay?”

“Okay, mom.” Her lips brush your cheek and she combs through your hair before turning to leave.

The door closes softly behind her.

***

You’ve survived the day, mostly by hiding, emerging only for meals you barely consume.

Steve continues to stare. You stare back.

The yellow rabbit he’d won for you is tucked beneath your arm. The beautiful pink roses he’d gifted you are still hidden in your closet, along with the clothes you’d picked out together. Lingerie buried in your dresser drawers.

You hear the door creak open and don’t open your eyes. Your mother probably about to check on you a final time. You’re being too obvious with your sulking and your isolation. You don’t know how else you can behave given the circumstances.

The door closes again and you hear it lock. Your eyes snap open, suddenly alert. You recognize the sound of those weighted footsteps.

The comforter and top sheet are pulled off of you. Your heart is racing. The mattress creaks when he climbs over you.

“She’ll hear you,” you protest softly. One calloused hand drags against your hip.

“I don’t care,” he whispers harshly. His mouth is rough against yours. You whimper, lifting your hips to help him slide your panties off. He moans against your throat when your bodies are joined again. “I need you.” His voice is raw, the words tearing jaggedly from his throat. He fucks into you gently. Your knees squeeze his ribs and you roll your hips into him. Too loud, you think, the panting breaths and the squeaking bed. You can’t stop. You don’t want him to stop, either.

“Daddy.”

His breath huffs over your lips. “My daughter.” His tongue slides across yours.

“Feel so good inside me, Daddy.”

“Baby girl…” His hips work faster, his cock sawing in and out, coated in your slick, your body welcoming him deeper. He laces his fingers through yours and pushes your linked hands down into your pillow. His kisses are salted. Nervous perspiration, maybe. The heat of you together.

His breathing goes ragged, shuddering. Your mouth traps the sound of his ultimate pleasure as he spills into you.

“You’re mine,” he pants beside your ear. “I’m not letting you go.”

***

You hear your mother and stepfather arguing.

It wakes you up early the next morning. You’re supposed to be getting ready for school soon. You remain in bed, your heart pounding as you eavesdrop.

“I know something happened while I was gone. I’m not blind, Steve. She won’t tell me. She’s afraid to.”

“If you’re implying—”

“—I trusted you. You’re supposed to be protecting her. She’s never had a father.”

“That’s my fault how, exactly? Because you had a one night stand with some random stranger in a bar eighteen years ago and didn’t bother to get so much as a name—”

“—I know his name. I found it out later. I lied to Henry and told him I was getting an abortion. He was going to do the right thing—”

“—I…what?” Steve’s voice changes abruptly. So soft you can barely hear him now. You draw back the covers and tiptoe over to the wall, pressing your ear against it. “What was his name?”

“It hardly matters now. He’s long gone. Anyway, you’re missing the point—”

“—What was his name?” Raglan repeats. Still so quiet.

“Henry Emily.”

Your mother knew. She’d always told you she didn’t. A lie of eighteen years now uncovered. You lean back against the wall heavily, needing support. How quickly your whole world was falling apart around you.

Silence for a long time. You hear the adjoining bathroom door open and close. Your eyes flick to the clock. It’s time to get ready for school.

***

The silence continues around the breakfast table. Steve doesn’t touch his coffee. You push your full plate away. He is still staring at you, but now there’s something different in that look. You don’t understand the foreign glint in his eyes.

Your mother still has a week off from work. Perhaps she’s grateful for an excuse not be around your stepfather right now. She busies herself with the housework.

You follow the older man out the door. His vehicle is behind yours, your mother’s beside his. You can still feel the weight of his gaze when you enter the car.

***

You have study hall last period today. You leave early, your car now headed to the social services office your parents work in. You have only been here a few times. Usually just to drop something off or pick something up. Never for a visit. Never for this.

You’re recognized instantly in reception and after a quick phone call told you can go head on in. Steve’s office door is plain, solid wood. His name and title are slotted on a plate beside it. You knock and hear his voice.

You enter and close the door behind you.

His office smells like coffee. It’s warmly lit by a pair of lamps, cozier without the use of the standard office fluorescents above. The window blinds are closed. There is a lot in that small space. It’s organized, but crowded. Filing cabinets and bookshelves. A framed district map and nature scene and certificates on the walls.

Your stepfather looks up from the folder sitting on his desk, setting the pen in his hand down on top of it.

“Why aren’t you in school?”

“I had study hall last period. Are you mad at me?”

He hasn’t said a word to you all day before this. You know it’s got something to do with the conversation he’d had with your mother that morning. Something about the revelation of your real father’s identity.

“No, I’m not mad at you.”

His voice is quiet. Neutral. His hands are clenched into fists. There is a tight set to his bearded jaw.

“You’re upset,” you insist. “Did you know my father?”

He blinks. The clock on the wall ticks softly. A little gurgle from the heated pot of coffee that’s still seated on the burner.

“So you eavesdropped.”

“I could hear you arguing. It woke me up.”

“Yes, I knew your father,” he admits quietly.

Your fingers clutch the vinyl chair in front of you. “Did you…did you know him well?”

“Yes. We attended college together. Founded a business together.”

“The restaurant?”

He nods. “He was the engineer. I focused on the economical side of things. There was overlap between the two eventually.”

“You were friends, then.”

“Yes.”

“Close?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you about my mother?”

“He did mention her briefly, yes.”

Your breath shudders. He was so eerily calm. You think you’d prefer his anger from the morning at this point. “Do I look like him?”

“The resemblance is uncanny. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. Of course you know you look nothing like your mother. I knew it was your father’s genes responsible. I just didn’t realize who he was.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“He’s gone.”

“Gone as in skipped town or…?”

“Deceased.”

Your stomach lurches. “What happened?”

“He was very unhappy. He chose to end things early.”

“He killed himself?” You whisper.

“The disappearance of his daughter—your half-sister—he never recovered from that. Then his son went missing and it overwhelmed him. His marriage fell apart. She went first and then he followed.”

“They both…he was…” You’re feeling lightheaded. It’s too much. Granted the man was a stranger, your half-siblings the same, but still.

“Have a seat.” He rises from the desk and guides you into one of the chairs meant for clients. “It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

“So they never found my…my half-siblings?”

“No.”

“And that’s the reason the restaurant closed, because my father…Henry…”

“A little more than that, but it certainly was the start of the collapse as it were.” He drags the chair near yours closer and settles into it. “Look at me.”

You struggle to meet your stepfather’s gaze.

“I know it’s difficult. But you have a right to know the truth. I’m not upset with you. You’ve done nothing wrong. I need you to understand that.” He brushes back the hair from your face.

You wonder if you would have gotten along with your dad. If his wife would have resented your existence. If you and your half-siblings would have played hide and seek in the vast space of the restaurant and snuck into a movie theater to see an R rated horror movie and argued over drive thru options from the rear of the car and whispered secrets, co-conspirators. Suddenly you’re wondering about a life you could have had. Maybe it had been better being an only child. Easier. Attention focused only on you. But the decision had been made for you. No choice. You’re not sure how to feel about that regret for something and someone you’ll never experience now.

“Do you have any pictures of him?”

“No, but I’m sure they exist in some form. An old news article online, maybe.”

“Was he a good person? I mean, outside of the affair and…”

“Yes, he was. Henry had to battle his own inner demons, as all men do, but overall yes, he was a kind, decent human being. There is no shame in being his descendant.”

“You really cared about him?”

A sigh, exhaled with a faint shudder. “Yes, I really did.”

You nod. It’s something, anyway. Some small comfort. A link to your father through this surrogate.

“Are you going to tell mom?”

“I don’t think it’s relevant at this juncture. You are the one that needed to know.”

“What are you going to do about…”

“I’m working that out. I promise. My feelings for you have not changed.” He stands. You rise to your feet. “You still want me, baby girl?” His voice is husky.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Another shuddering sigh. His mouth crushes yours.

***

William rushes through the last two appointments of the day.

He’s told you to wait for him at the pizzeria.

He still can’t believe you’re Henry’s daughter.

How strange fate was to bring you into his path this way. As if you cannot escape each other. Forever destined to intertwine.

He wonders where your eldest half-sibling is. If fate will somehow bring him back to him as well. He’d be 25 now. Something like that. The last time he’d seen him had been at that state park in Nebraska. A family camping trip turned into another tragedy when he’d stolen Henry’s youngest son.

William parks beside your car. He cannot help but see Henry now when he looks at you. Maybe that’s what had drawn him to you all along.

He brings you back to the manager’s office. He thinks about your father seated there behind the desk he’s just set you on, confessing his act of adultery that had created you.

There is no foreplay that afternoon.

William reaches beneath your uniform skirt and jerks your panties down. He unfastens his belt and opens his pants and shoves his cock into you.

“Oh, baby girl. I need this so badly…” He nips your throat.

“Daddy…” You wrap your legs around his waist and he leans into you, penetrating you more deeply.

“You like it, sweet girl? Hmmm?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Tell Daddy how much you love his big cock in you.”

“I love it. I love your big cock, Daddy,” you gasp. Your nails clutch his back as his prick drives against your pussy over and over, punching little moans of pleasure out of your lungs. “Love it when you fill me up so full of your cum…”

“You want that, baby girl? Want Daddy to breed you? I’m gonna to fill you so fucking full…”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whine. Your lips are parted beneath his. He lets a trail of saliva drop down onto your tongue before he slides tightly wrapped lips over it, sucking it back off your tongue, mouth moving over it like he’s working over a cock, getting it all spit slick. His prick pistons roughly, ramming against your cervix. “Love it, Daddy. Love it, love it, love you…”

Your hair pulled back roughly so you’re looking into his eyes. “You’re mine,” he growls. Not Henry’s daughter. His. He never wanted you. Afton’s always wanted you from the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

“I am yours, Daddy. Just yours.” You stretch to capture his lips.

“Made for me. Mine.” The pounding has become so wet and sloppy and frantic. You’re both sweating. You cling to him and rock and grind against him.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum. Fuck, Daddy…” He feels you twitch and spasm and shudder around him. One hand slams down on the desk, fingers gripping the edge tightly. The knuckles blanch whiter and whiter. The light leaving Garrett’s eyes. His rough kisses split your bottom lip and draw blood. So much of it from such a small body. Charlie’s wide, surprised eyes, so like your own…

William explodes, filling you with his seed as promised. He feels your hand on the arm still held taut, gripping the desk. He realizes you’ve been trying to get his attention. He rockets back from the past and his gaze focuses on you.

“Steve…”

“My name’s not Steve, it’s William.”

Another long kept secret revealed.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

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corpsebasil · 1 year

Text

Shapeshifter Part 1

When a girl with the strangest abilities the prince has ever met gets hurt, he finds himself unwillingly attached to a stranger.

(Sorry for the spam guys but I’m rampaging rn)

Mal stared in absolute horror as the giant white wolf he and Alina had been traveling with for days entered the pirate’s office with them, sitting on the ground next to Alina’s feet.

The Sun Summoner was discussing terms of passage when Nikolai noticed the wolf, taking in its powerful size and cold, unrelenting stare. He flashed the two strangers a grin and pointed, his excitement at seeing a wolf for the first time so close to him growing.

“Now that is a gorgeous dog.” He said, nodding towards the animal. To his surprise, the wolf dipped her head at him. As if it was thanking the prince.

“Please don’t compliment her, her ego’s big enough already.” Alina sighed, and glared right back at the wolf when the animal sent her a mocking snarl.

“Dramatic beast.” Mal sighed, then protested when Nikolai beckoned to the wolf, leaving his desk chair to crouch on the ground.

“Hello,” he cooed, “who’s a good girl?”

“She’s—“ Mal started, mortified, at the same time Alina said, “Please don’t pet her she isn’t—” But the wolf stepped over to the prince, almost preening when he rubbed her ears and treated her like she was a small puppy instead of a warrior of a dog.

“Y/N, enough.” Alina snapped, her temper and embarrassment at its peak, and the wolf grumbled. The creature clearly understood them all, and Nikolai was fascinated by its intelligence. “Go find a robe or something and stop playing around.”

Nikolai gave Alina a weird look, raising a brow.

“A robe?” He demanded, standing up. “What are you—”

But Mal had his jacket off and set it down behind him, and then a flash of light filled the room, and Nikolai stumbled backwards into the wall in surprise. The prince let out a strangled noise of fear when a person—a woman—stood up from the floor, buttoning Mal’s long, knee length coat around herself before any of the trio could get a glimpse of her body underneath it.

“Sorry about that.” She giggled, tying her hair up out of her face. “It never gets old, it really doesn’t.”

“You’re a…” Nikolai wracked his brain for a single idea of what kind of Grisha she could be. He had no clue what order allowed people to change into animals, but…

“Not a Grisha, sorry to disappoint.” She said, then suddenly pressed a hand against her stomach, stilling for a moment, and bolted out of the office. Nikolai stared after her in mute surprise for the ten seconds it took for the three of them in the office to hear her vomiting over the side of the ship, her retching making him feel sick, as well.

“It’s a rare ability.” Alina explained, looking over at Mal, then back to the prince. “Way back before the Grisha. She may be the only one left of her kind.”

“I’m back.” Y/N said, looking remarkably less pale than she had the moment before. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”

***

Later, Nikolai stepped outside and sat down cautiously next to the girl, the shapeshifter, who sat cross-legged against the side of the ship. She was wearing his own shirt, white and barely long enough to reach mid-thigh, but she had walked around in it shamelessly, claiming none of his pants fit her and she wouldn’t look like a clown.

He tried not to stare at her long legs tucked on the deck.

“Thank you,” she told him, gesturing to the clothes and the bowl of soup in front of her. She’d eaten a bowl already, claiming that using her power starved her, and she was sipping on a mug of peppermint tea that calmed her stomach. “I needed this badly. I was stuck in that body for four days and I thought I was going to start barking at people without it being a joke.”

“How does it…” Nikolai approached the topic slowly, still absorbing her eyes, her long hair—she was gorgeous, that was undeniable, but he was still wary of the beast that hid beneath her skin. “Do you always get sick after?”

“No.” She said simply, and took a sip of her tea. Then her smile turned wry, and she tilted her head. “You know, my sense of smell is very good when I’m in a wolf form.”

He raised a brow.

“And?”

“And I never forget someone’s scent. And you smell like someone I saw several years ago, when I was masked as a hawk in Ravka.”

Nikolai’s heart seemed to stop, before he said, as calmly as possible, “please do not share that information.”

“And upset your royal good-lookingness? Never.” She took another sip of tea and smiled, this time free of teasing, and he smiled hesitantly back. “But anyways. Things like a hawk or a squirrel or something, maybe a bunny, don’t take that much out of me. The smaller than animal and the less time in the body, the less it effects me.” Then she shuddered, her face paling a bit. “It’s the bigger forms that take from me. I worry someday that I’ll shift into something too big and won’t be able to shift back without it killing me.”

Nikolai pondered this, still utterly floored by the concept. They were going to sail for the sea-whip, and a shifter might very well be a useful advantage to he and his crew. Maybe if she turned into a hawk or a falcon and scouted ahead for them…

He looked over at her, finding her eyes, so calculating, watching him already.

“What?” He asked, his tone a bit too startled for his liking.

“You’re much more handsome, now.” She said, matter of factly, and he was ashamed to find himself a bit flustered. Him. Flustered. “To tell you a secret, I’ve always wanted to date a prince.”

“Alright.” He scoffed, sitting up straighter, and ignored the glimmer of amusement in those eyes. “You’re tired. We have a long day ahead of us in the morning, shifter.”

“Will I be sleeping in your bed, or you in mine?”

“Are you always this flirty?”

“I have a thing for pirate princes.”

Nikolai’s smile was genuine when he offered her his arm, guiding her along with him towards the hammock area where the rest of the crew slept. She lingered by the door, casting a sultry look over a shoulder. Damn him, that look. She smirked as if she knew exactly what he was thinking about and sauntered away, pulling a laugh from Nikolai when he watched her pounce onto Mal in his hammock, almost knocking herself and the tracker onto the floor.

Part 2 —> here.

#shadow and bone #shapeshifter #nikolai lantsov #nikolai x reader #sturmhond #sturmhond x reader

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xo-katana · 9 months

Note

Can i pls request Liu Kang and Kitana reacting to a red headed female reader whos really insecure about her hair and appearence?

♡⋆ ꕥ| MK S/O Reacts To Insecurities

Includes; Liu Kang, Kitana

This will be written as a one shot!

*I realized it wasn’t a S/O request as soon as I finished so pls let me know if this is not what you wanted LOL*

Liu Kang

Liu looks at his lover who stares into her vanity in their shared room, silently judging herself. From the way her red hair looks to the way her face looks as she simply relaxes the muscles on her forehead. Liu grins at her, sneaking up behind her with his calloused hands wrapping themselves around her waist. He presses his body in hers, placing his chin on her shoulder while taking in the sweet smell of his partner. “Why the long face?”

She rests her hands onto his, sighing. She’s hesitant to say anything about what she was feeling but tells him in hopes that he understands. “When I look at myself, I don’t feel an ounce of beauty. It’s silly, really.”

Liu kisses the side of her neck before spinning her around to meet his eyes. One hand caressed her face as the other pulls her closer to him. “Nothing silly about that. However, I do advise you to think differently about yourself.”

Y/n can only smile at him as he continues to praise her. “You’re personality is amazing but I think your looks is what sold me.”

Liu winks with a chuckle when Y/n nudges his side. “You are all around beautiful. You’re talented, smart, gorgeous, and so loving. I hope one day, you see it too. Come on, let’s get to bed.”

That night, Liu shows her just how much he loved everything she hated.

Kitana

Kitana joins her lover outside as the sun begins to set. Sitting on the grassy hillside of their temple, Kitana admires her lover. The red hair, their complexion, and every little detail on their face. Kitana adored it all. “Kitana? May I ask you something?”

She can only hum and nod in response as Y/n’s head turns to face her with an almost deadpanned face. “Why did you fall in love with me?”

Kitana is at lost for words at first, her face beginning to show concern for the woman in front of her. “Y/n? May I ask why you’re even questioning my love for you?” She asks Y/n, a bit offended.

“I… just can’t understand why you’d be with someone that looks like me? You can have anyone you want and yet, you decide to stick beside me and I can’t understand why.” Y/n’s voice begins to lower as she says this, her knees brought up to her chest while her arms wrap around her legs, a sad look on her face as she tries to avoid eye contact with Kitana who scoots closer.

Kitana takes her slender fingers and runs a strand of Y/n’s hair through her hand. “Y/n, you surely don’t think that low of yourself.”

Y/n doesn’t respond, instead, she drops her head on her knees and bites the inside of her cheek, nervously. “Y/n, look at me.”

The calmness and soothing tone of Kitana can only make Y/n abide. Her head slowly lifts up, her eyes wandering around and landing on anything but her lover. Kitana takes a hand and holds Y/n’s chin firmly but gentle enough to slowly turn Y/n’s head to face her. Kitana let’s out a small chuckle, “Y/n… I chose you because I wanted to. You are truly a woman of great character. I love the way your red hair rests on your shoulders or the way your smile brightens up when we see each other, I love everything about you. Your beauty is just a bonus.”

Y/n can’t help the way her lips curl into a smile as Kitana leans in to press her lips into Y/n’s with a slight grin. Pulling away, Kitana looks into Y/n’s eyes,“To me, Y/n, you are the woman everyone wants.”

#x y/n #self insert #mortal kombat #fanfic #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat headcanons #mortal kombat liu kang #mortal kombat kitana #kitana #kitana x reader #Kitana x y/n #liu kang x reader #liu kang #Liu Kang x y/n #y/n

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star-girl69 · 1 year

Text

My Heart Never Knows

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: ahhhhhh i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: mentions of mating, possessiveness, overprotectiveness, mentions of death, mentions of violence, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Nine- Breathing Fire

—-

When Neytiri wakes, she rolls over with a smile on her face, a safety in her bones, a contentment in her.

Regardless of what Y/N says, she will never be able to deny what happened when they danced. She will never be able to deny herself them again.

She hopes her and Jake were like a drug to her, one small taste, and she will come crawling back for more, needing more, and who will they be to deny her?

She goes about her day with a smile on her face, and Jake does not even have the heart to tease her- to consumed is he in his own happiness, his own memories. She thinks it is the first day she has been happy in weeks.

But as the day sets on, the sun climbs and descends, doubts creep into her mind like tendrils of the night across the sky.

She doubts Y/N will come to them, oretty and perfect and begging, no matter how much Neytiri wishes it. They will have to go to her. They will have to prove to her that they can be good.

They will be good mates, strong, capable. It is them who will take care of her and protect her, show her the entire world from the safety of their arms.

She knows her and Jake will have to go out and prove it to her, and it isn’t until after the evening meal she lets her smile drop. Replaced, she is now cold and calculating, because is it not true that she was trained like that? To kill, to hunt?

The only difference is that she is not hunting animals in the forest, but instead a beautiful Metkayina woman whom she cannot stop dreaming about.

She is like honey, Neytiri thinks, sticking to her so tightly Neytiri knows she will never come off. Neytiri doesn’t want her to come off.

—-

The sand is cool under her feet, a warm breeze and ocean air filling her nose. Neytiri should be calm, relaxed. This should be a moment for her to think. But, instead, she is filled with a rage, a desire, a primal need to protect what is hers.

She watches them now, hands intwined, beautiful smile on her face. And- she’s laughing- and Neytiri’s heart is clenching in her chest so painfully she isn’t sure how she is still standing.

She hides behind the leaves, pulling one down to properly see them. They dawdle on the beach, Y/N is blushing, chin tucked to her chest and Neytiri can only feel that rage again- because she thought movements like that belonged to her and Jake. They were the ones who would make her blush, not this foolish man.

Neytiri bites back a hiss, desperate to sink her teeth into his flesh, her fists into his skin, anything to get him away, away.

When he touches a lock of her hair, Neytiri leaves.

—-

“Neytiri?”

She feels like a fool, stupid, stupid. It only makes her anger grow.

She wants to tear apart the world, bare her jealousy on her sleeve, forge it into a weapon and tear apart the sky- make the world know her wrath.

Instead, she finds Jake. and when she sees him, says her name, she deflates.

She is silent, for a moment, staring past him out to the sea. “I saw her.”

Jake looks so content, still riding the high of last night, Neytiri can almost not bear to tell him. But is it wrong that she wants someone to share in her rage with? Sink into her jealously with him, like they had both sunk into her.

Confusion still rests on his face, but he sets down the spear he was sharpening, looking up at her. “Yes?”

He must know something is wrong, and that must be why he stands, puts his hands on her shoulders. Fear covers her features.

“S-shit, Neytiri- Neytiri, did- did something-?”

“I saw her,” she hisses again, feeling stupid and foolish and like she could tear apart the world. “With someone else.”

She watches his face carefully, watches his fear fade, relieved that whatever horror he had conjured up in his mind is not true. Then, his face changes, slides into anger, into jealousy.

“The fuck?” he asks, letting go of her and backing up. He shakes his head. “No, Neytiri, tell me- tell me you’re lying.”

“I’m not,” she says, solemn, but feeling the fire in her rise, clawing at her skin, fueled on by his own rage. (Is it wrong that seeing him so jealous makes her stomach flutter?)

He contemplates for a second, and she doesn’t speak, let’s her words sink in.

“I’ll kill him.”

Neytiri flinches at Jake’s words. “My Jake.”

“What?” he asks, and the fire in him has reaches his eyes. “What? Tell me you don’t want to, Neytiri. Tell me you don’t wanna kill him. Look me in the eyes,”

Her breath catches, and suddenly she is roaring again, uncrossing her arms, letting them rest at her sides, fists clenched.

“It doesn’t matter. We cannot. Our position here is already precarious enough- now you want to murder him? Attack him?”

He hisses, bares his teeth and starts pacing, hands at his hips.

It reminds her so much of all those years ago, when they were young, before the children, when it was just her and him and they were in love.

She lets her hands fall loose, reaches out and stops Jake with a hand to his chest. “My Jake…” she whispers, and he looks into her eyes, knows what she says. They cannot fight a losing battle, they cannot risk the displeasure of the Metkayina. They have no power hear, and no amount of jealousy will fix that.

Jake stops, but his chest is warm underneath her hand, his fists still clenched.

“Come,” she whispers. “Walk with me.”

They walk along the beach, far away from where she saw Y/N and that man, and slowly, slowly, Jake’s anger fades. It is replaced by something solemn and complacent, and she misses the previous night with such a fierceness in her.

When it was just them, and she was drunk, and she liked them for just a night. But they were not addictive to her, not good enough for her to stay.

For a moment, Neytiri actually thought Jake would breathe fire. How mad he was- it had to have a release. And what better than the most destructive thing she knows? (She feels it too, they fire in her throat, but she pushes it down until it is contained. Back to her stomach, to her heart. Deep inside her, waiting for her to snap so it can break free.)

The walk is calming, and she can feel Jake’s hand loosen in her own. Her Jake has always been quick to anger, easy to stay in it. Even with their children- she always felt that there was something they could never quite give them. But Y/N was the opposite of them- so different, kind and beautiful- one of those people you want to be around no matter what.

She tries to convince herself that this is for the better, but every bone in her body, every small part, her blood, it sings the opposite. No, it’s not for the better. It will never be better, not without her.

It isn’t until Jake stops, turns to her with a finger to his lips, that she takes any note of her surroundings. They had doubled back by now, heading back towards their mauri, and through the plants, she could see just the smallest clearing, a fallen tree on the ground.

Two women sat atop it- but Neytiri could only be focused on one of them. It was Y/N. She turned to Jake, wordlessly, and they knew it was wrong, but the listened.

She sighed, turning to her friend with a sad smile.

“Ayeoe was… not good.”

Her friend frowned. “Well, what happened?” She suddenly leaned forward, grabbing Y/N’s hand. “Did he-”

“No!” Y/N reassures the other, but with the breath Neytiri has to let out, it is almost like she is soothing Neytiri. Y/N sucks in a breath. “We were… having a nice time, yes? At least, I thought we were. He is not- not-” she pauses, and Neytiri almost foolishly hopes it is their names she will say. “Not what I expected,” she decides on, althougth Neytiri can tell she wishes to say something else. “We were walking, then he stopped, led me into the trees, and asked if I was ready. When I asked what for, he took his tsaheylu in his hands-”

Neytiri has to hiss at Jake, dig her nails into his arm as he straightens. He fumes again, and she is too, but the two women don’t look over to them, unbothered by the small shift of leaves.

“And said to mate. I was… just… I- I told him no, and he tried to convince me, yelled and screamed. He let me leave, but still- is everyone just so intent on mating fast?”

Her friend squeezes her hands, thinks for a moment.

“Is that what you want then? A long courting?”

“I- I just want to know someone before. I want to See them. It takes more than an hour, I believe. Time does not matter to me. I just- I don’t even have to See them, I suppose. I just want to know them.”

You know us, Neytiri wants to scream, fire in her throat, in her mouth, coating her tongue. We know you.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she is silent, burning, consumed by the flames. But she is next to Jake, and that soothes the pain. There is only one thing missing, but when Neytiri is more determined than ever to bring her to them.

When she looks at Jake, she knows he thinks the same. Resolve covers his features, a deadly promise, and Neytiri believes him, knows he will make true on what he promises.

She doesn’t speak, because she knows that if she did, she would breathe fire.

—-

taglist:

@sully-stick-together @corrupt-cadaver420 @jadynchronicle @imthefunniestpersonalive @fangil101 @mashiromochi @rey26 @soothinghummerz @myheartfollower @pwallettes @melodykisses @ghoulfiendz @fanboyluvr @itsyaspwr @khaleesihavilliard @capbrie @nothingfuninthislife @faceaeter @thetrashindrakensroom @makeup-stuff-and-such @my-dearest-agent @miyamuraaaa @homeispandora @xoxovienna @arschbohrer @amazingaries @ssc7514 @milf-lover-23 @w3ird11 @littlexscarletxwitch @tiajk @kuldren @blackgirlwriting @tojigirl @trulyrogers @aeslenya @3okutos-3ig-toe @peterparkeeperer

#jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader

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a-boca-do-inferno · 5 months

Text

eu te amo agora (sonny corleone x reader)

summary: Love truly didn’t make sense. (y/n) would know.

warnings: angst, cheating, light fluff

words: 1.0k

notes: yes, another songfic. it rocks what can i do. based on agora by alice caymmi.

Don’t wait for him to come back. There are fifty holes on his skin and no life in his eyes.

(y/n) prefers to tell herself every day Santino’s gone because the thought of his death is somewhat more bearable than his willing distance. And he was in the wrong! Yet, she was the one who hurt the most. (y/n) couldn’t look at him. Now he had a family of his own, and it was criminal the way his orbs shone with love towards his children. The worst part was she had no place in his life, not anymore. That meant having no right to feel betrayed by how happy he looked. She was now but a memory, forgotten in the back of his mind.

“Sauce?”, inquires Carmela, causing the girl to blink at her. She had been in her own head most of the time, it seemed. The food looked delicious, though, and so she beamed back at the woman in silence. But Carmela was no fool. She knew (y/n) ever since she was a baby. “What’s on your mind, my dear?”

A sigh escapes her lips. “I’ve been working a lot, that’s all.”

“Yeah?”, Carmela hums and chuckles softly, serving (y/n)’s plate. “It sounds like your heart has been working quite a lot, too. If you don’t mind me saying.”

(y/n) snorts. She really knew her like no one else. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Carmela was aware of her and Sonny’s brief affair before he got married. She was a very attentive woman, especially towards her children. And instead of judging either of them, she kept to herself and subtly tried to amend things between her son and the girl. (y/n) was like family, after all, and it would help no one to feed any animosity at home. It was so hard, however, to pretend like nothing was ever happening when her heart broke into a thousand pieces every time Santino and his wife exchanged normal couple affection.

“Oh, but it does”, Carmela murmurs, still with her voice as light as a feather. She gives Sonny a look from across the room. He’s talking to Tom about sports, gesticulating and laughing out loud. His presence is intoxicating. (y/n) feels sick. “Look at him. He’s a better actor than you.”

She almost chokes on her drink, but puts herself together quickly. “What?”, she scoffs, completely incredulous. Sure, Carmela knew about it and (y/n) knew she knew about it, but the comment was bold even for her. His mother had never been so direct. Still a bit stunned, the girl adds, “you’re seeing things, Carmela.”

“I put that boy into this world, honey”, she says smugly, then gives her a knowing smile. “And there’s no need to be shy around me, I’d take you over his wife any day.”

(y/n) couldn’t help but snicker, causing a few eyes to land on her, including Santino’s. She wasn’t one to draw attention to herself, after all. Her cheeks burned and she turned to Carmela, ignoring the surprise on Sonny’s face to see her actually do something while in his house. His orbs on her figure felt like hot stones coming in contact with her skin. He wasn’t a discreet man, and she cursed silently for that fact. The next thing she knew, someone had taken a seat at her side.

(y/n) couldn’t bring herself to turn and face him, and then came his voice, deep and full of playfulness. “Don’t be rude now, doll.”

Damn him. She gives Carmela a look as if asking for help to deal with the situation, but the woman quietly gets up and leaves them alone at the table. Despite loving her like a mother, (y/n) hated her guts at that very moment. She had no choice but to turn towards Santino, who waited for her with a loose smile on his perfect features. Their eyes meet and for a split second, it’s like the very first time they met at that small family gathering for Connie’s graduation. Except it wasn’t, it never would be, not with his children playing in the backyard while his wife cooked with Carmela in the kitchen behind them.

“Santino”, she gives him a small but polite nod.

He raises his brows, amused by her response. “So formal.”

“Stop, Sonny”, (y/n) begs in a whisper, looking down at the table as she tries to recompose herself. But Sonny, ever the rebel, grabs her chin between his index and thumb delicately, making her stare back at him. She feels her face on fire again. “Sonny.”

“Every time I see you, you’re more beautiful than before, I swear to God”, he blurts out, his eyes unblinking and intense. Her knees are weak and she’s relieved to be seated right now. His words go like daggers through her heart. And he knows it. There’s pain in his voice, too. “You know I want you, doll. I always will.”

“I hate you”, she grits her teeth, holding his gaze with anger. Her eyes are filled with tears, but they don’t fall. Not anymore. “So much.”

He smiles slightly, but it’s a sad smile. Bitter. “I wish it could’ve been different. I really do.”

“It doesn’t matter now”, she repeats, yet it sounds more and more like she’s trying to convince herself.

Santino touches her hair hesitantly, probably sensing she’s gonna back away. She doesn’t. (y/n) doesn’t have it in her anymore to run away from him. He coos, his husky voice sending shivers down her spine, “it does, because I know I love you now.”

(y/n) doesn’t have a chance to process his words when Carmela comes back with his wife, both of them carrying trays. They set them on the table and everyone takes a seat. She didn’t even see when Sonny let go of her hair and turned forward, serving himself and teasing Tom about something. They laugh like nothing happened, which technically, it didn’t. Not to them. But her heartbeat felt like that of a captive bird’s. She ate quietly, Santino’s confession eating up her insides similar to acid. Love truly didn’t make sense.

(y/n) would know.

#the godfather #sonny corleone #james caan #the godfather x reader #sonny corleone x reader #the godfather imagine #sonny corleone imagine

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muffinsin · 4 months

Note

Ahh thank you for writing the cockwarming request! I look forward to any oneshots you may have brewing about it 👀 I have a kinda cute request this time: i agree the girls have pretty good stamina but what do you think they'd do/think of if they were trying not to cum quickly? I hc they've all at least a few times been so focused on their s/o's pleasure that they've accidentally edged themselves so much that they don't realise how close they are until they go in (all smug and ready to rail their s/o) and then are all "shit shit shit" lol

I’ve enjoyed it a lot! ;) oh this is a fun one! These are all for the sisters being dominant, as them as submissives and holding back would look slightly different ;) Let’s get into it!! :)

Masterlist

Bela

Whether a dom or a sub, though especially when she is on top, she loves to look after you, sexually

This includes making sure you cum before her

Multiple times even, often

And she’s a very, very sensitive woman. The more she holds herself back, the more sensitive she becomes

When she pushes right in you, and this sensitivity catches up to her, her eyes widen

Oh god

This feels good

She will be still in you, eyes closed as she tries to hold herself back

After a few moments, the overwhelming pleasure is something she can handle,

Although she will still be slightly embarrassed about the precum dripping out of her and how madly she twitches in you during that time

She will still be a little more hectic, bring you to orgasm a little faster than normal, now that she is chasing her own

She’s especially sensitive after you’ve had her mouth on her and will often spend time groping you before pushing in, aware of how close she is

Cassandra

When on top, Cassandra doesn’t come before you unless you aren’t allowed to cum, period

However, her love for pain and teasing you for hours comes with one among many consequences;

She is painfully aroused

The spanks she likes to deliver onto you, whips and cuts, bites, overstimulation or edging, your taste and feel of your skin do nothing but rile her up

And when she pushes herself inside you after teasing you for so long, it feels heavenly

She grits her teeth when she almost comes from this. She would never live it down!

She won’t let you notice how badly she wants it, not by words, although if you pay close enough attention you will see her nipples harden painfully almost, her lip bloodied and her teeth grit. She’d twitch in you and thrust slowly for a few moments

She will still be dangerously close dangerously fast when she begins ramming you properly, but a few slower and deeper thrusts help her regain her composure and focus again. She’s stubborn and won’t cum if she can help it (although there have been times when this stubbornness was tested, especially as a submissive ;) )

When you do cum, she will definitely join in however, either creaming inside of you or pulling out and painting your backside in her cum

Daniela

This one can go two ways;

Daniela is, to her credit, the best at holding back an orgasm. She’s a brat at heart and is all too familiar with edging punishments that taught her to obey and hold back

However, she does have her limits

And when she feels so close, and then pushes in you, it’s very well possible she just collapses, and moans on top of you as she comes. She’d never live it down, she knows this, and it’s an excellent thing to tease her with

She’d blush and smile shyly

On the other hand, as mentioned, she can go for hours and hours and edge herself. She could push into you and feel sensitive and close and simply continue ramming inside of you as though nothing was up

She knows her limits very, very well. The best out of the sisters, and knows exactly when she will orgasm and when she can’t help it

She will focus on bringing you at least one or two more orgasms until she also comes, albeit very very sensitive after, to the point she will barely be able to stand

She is especially sensitive if you’ve had your hands on her, playing with her between her legs or groping her breasts while she takes care of you

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil village #anon ask

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scuttling · 8 months

Text

Devil You Know

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries Pairings: Damon Salvatore/female reader (future) Word Count: 2,107 Tags: Just canon typical violence/blood so far, Episode related 2x14 Crying Wolf Summary: Damon's in love with Elena, would do anything to keep her safe—including forming an alliance with a mysterious newcomer who just might change everything. A/N: I consider this a teaser I guess, as plan to write the rest of season 2's storyline! I hope you like it :)

Keep reading below!

Damon goes to the historical society tea party because he needs to confront Elijah.

It’s absolutely the last thing he wants to do, after blowing off Jenna’s friend Andie, who will almost certainly be in attendance; the last thing he wants to do, knowing that Elena and Stefan are on some romantic getaway to her family’s cabin by the lake. But he needs to protect her, which means finding out more about Elijah and the deal he’s made with her, which means he gets dressed and goes to the party, puts on a smile, charms the pants off everyone like he always does.

It’s not easy, but someone’s gotta do it.

Damon is just walking away from Alaric, heading into the study on Elijah’s heels, when a pretty young woman grabs him by the elbow of his jacket. She fits in at the tea party, in a white sweater, long, tan skirt, and heels, but he can’t remember ever seeing her around town.

“Whatever you’re about to do, don’t,” she says in a low voice. A human wouldn’t have heard it, her lips barely move, but he can and she must know that.

“And who are you?” he asks, cocking a brow. He doesn’t take advice from people he does know, and definitely not from people he doesn’t; all the same, something about her intrigues him, though he can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Someone who’s not about to let you make the biggest mistake of your life — or afterlife, whatever you call it.” She lets go of the fabric of his jacket, then smooths it out where she’s wrinkled it. “Trying to kill an Original is suicide, so don’t.”

She says it with an air of finality, almost authoritative, then turns away from him like she’s going to leave.

He can’t let this girl leave, but he can’t let Elijah go either. He’s torn, feels two warring senses of urgency, looks briefly toward the study and then back to her retreating frame.

“Wait—who are you? How do you know–what you know?” She turns back, hair falling over her shoulder, and shakes her head like she’s frustrated that he’s even bothering to ask.

“I know, and that’s all that matters right now. Look, I have to go; I shouldn't have come as it is.”

Damon grabs her arm to stop her from turning again, to stop her from leaving, but she frees herself with one firm, no nonsense tug and walks out the door without ever looking back.

A mystery for another time. Elijah’s in the study, and Damon’s going to do what he came for in the first place.

He gets stabbed in the neck by Elijah because of course he does; he never claimed to be rational or sensible, to think things through or weigh the consequences like his brother. He acts on instinct, with more emotion than most people probably imagine him capable of, and then deals with the aftermath as it comes.

The aftermath of this situation is a very sore throat, and a growing headache, as he mulls over what little they know, over and over and over in his mind.

“Today was a bust,” he punctuates with a sip of bourbon. He says it to himself, to the room at large, but Ric answers anyway.

“Yeah, that Elijah’s one scary dude. I’d think twice before I trust that dagger and some ashes to do the job. You’re gonna need more info.” Damon frowns.

“But I’m out of sources.” Ric stands to pour another drink, grabs Damon’s glass and does the same. When he hands it back, Damon has a flash of memory from earlier in the day—the tea party, the mystery girl who knew more than she should—and he smiles a little to himself, pleased. “Actually, you know what. There might be one person who can help us out.”

“I’ll take anything we can get,” Ric says, drinking down the remainder of his bourbon in one sip. Damon stands and does the same, grabs his jacket from the back of his chair.

As they head for the front door he starts brainstorming, deciding where they are most likely to find her. Strangers always seem to gravitate toward the Grill, so they should probably start there, ask around, find out if anyone who’d been at the event remembered her.

Those plans are cut short by werewolves. Goddamn werewolves.

“You know what the great thing about buckshot is? It scatters through the body. Maximum damage,” the one he knows to be Jules says, the one he hates with every fiber of his being.

They’ve got him chained to a chair—an antique that’s going to be a bitch to restore after this—with some kind of inverted spike collar on him, and he is leaking blood from a hole in his neck for the second time today. It’s a new method of torture for him, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little terrified of the potential outcome.

This is how he knows he loves Elena, really, truly loves her, he thinks. For anyone else, he’d have given up a long, long time ago, out of both boredom and self-preservation. Damon would kill for almost anyone—he kills mainly for himself, anyway—but she’s the only one he’d die for now that Katherine has fucked them all for the last time.

“Where is the moonstone?” Jules yells, pulling him out of his thoughts with a cock of her gun. One of the wolves pulls on the collar, which hurts like hell, but Damon just shrugs, smarmy as shit. Jules rolls her eyes. “Vampires.”

“At least vampires have the decency not to enter someone’s home without permission,” someone calls from the foyer. Damon can see that it’s his mystery guest, still dressed for the party, as she strolls casually down the hallway and into the parlor, toward the werewolves. Jules takes a good look at the girl, brows tight, as if she’s trying to place her, but the other wolves growl—actually growl—at her, nostrils flaring. It’s clear they know who she is… and that they actually fear her. “If I were you, I’d go. Now. Before another one of you gets hurt.”

Whether she’s referring to Mason or someone else he doesn’t know about, it doesn’t make a difference; the male wolves run out of the house in a blur, and Jules must trust her pack enough to know to follow, because she speeds past the girl and out the front door with the rest of them.

Damon is impressed. Very impressed.

A minute later, when the house is quiet and the girl seems satisfied the wolves are gone, she steps toward Damon; her heels click across the wood floor, and in that delicate skirt, that pristine white sweater, she yanks at the chains that have him bound to the wooden chair. They nearly crumble in her hands, breaking apart and freeing him from captivity.

Now he’s kind of terrified again. Terrified, and a little turned on, and really fucking confused.

“Should have let them kill you,” she mutters as she unlocks the collar, her hands slick with his blood but no less precise. She pulls each wooden stake carefully away from his neck, and he sighs his relief when the device is completely off, discarded on the ground. “Do you always have such a knack for getting yourself into dangerous situations, or have I stumbled upon a no good, very bad day?”

“Hey. They broke into my house,” he reminds her, standing, and what’s left of the chains join the collar in a heap on the floor. The girl lets out a long sigh and puts up her bloody hands in a gesture of irritation.

“Because you’re fucking with, quite literally, the most powerful, ancient beings, things you know next to nothing about, even though I told you not to.”

“No offense, but I have no idea who you are, what you are… Those guys obviously did, and I’m getting now that you’re kind of a big deal, but it takes a lot more than a mysterious girl leaving a cryptic message at a town event to get me to change my mind.”

With another sigh, she sticks out one of her hands, and after a pause he gets what she’s after, reaches out to complete the handshake.

“Hi, I’m the new resident vampire slayer. Happy to make your acquaintance.” He tries not to show that his mind is a little blown at this, that the prim and proper, frankly beautiful girl in front of him is a killer of anything.

“Vampire slayer? Is ‘hunter’ not cool enough this year?” She drops his hand, then wipes the blood from hers against the fabric of his black henley; it’s not enough to clean them fully, but now they’re merely stained red and no longer dripping with the evidence of his prior torture.

“Hunters are usually guys with personal vendettas, who spend too much time shopping at the army surplus store,” she says with a completely unsubtle look at Ric, who remains dead on the Persian rug. Either she doesn’t care, or she’s spotted the Gilbert ring, knows what it means. “Slayers are different; we’re born with innate power, similar to what you develop when you transition—though I guess it’s all the same when you’re on the wrong end of a wooden stake.”

She takes a step back as he takes a step toward her—toward Ric, really. She watches as Damon lifts him up and drops him onto the sofa, so he can wake up with a little more dignity, at least. “So, vampire slayer. Are you from around here?” he asks as he turns back. He grabs their glasses from earlier, and a third, and fills them all with bourbon. He offers her the drink, which she accepts, sips.

“I get around,” she says lightly, carefully avoiding his question. She walks around the room, exploring, as he cleans up, rolls up the soiled rug so he can dump it later on. “This is my first time in Mystic Falls, though I know all about its… rich history.” She takes another drink, this one deeper, like she’s tired after such a long day. He knows he is, so he can understand the feeling. “I’m drawn to where I’m needed, and I wasn’t needed here until the moonstone came into play. Now you've got doppelgängers, werewolves… I’m just fortunate you dealt with the vampires in the tomb on your own, or we’d be in a hell of a lot more trouble.”

“Hey, I’ve changed since then; I was an idiot in love,” he explains, then he fully realizes that’s bullshit; he’s still an idiot, and still in love—or, more appropriately, in love again.

He throws her a playful smirk, but she’s not laughing when she comes closer and locks eyes with him. It’s the first time he’s looked at her and seen what must be her darker, more dangerous side.

“Love is not an acceptable excuse for your actions, and if you ever give me reason to, I’ll put you down without hesitation. It’s important that you know that.” Her eyes flick over his, as if ensuring that he’s gotten the message, that he understands her loud and clear. “Even when I help you—if I help you—my loyalties are to the slayers who fought before me, who fight alongside me. No one else. If any of you harm an innocent person with intent, I will kill you.”

Damon contemplates that for a moment, he really does; there’s no shortage of people who want him dead, so adding one more to the list isn’t really as impactful as she may believe. He can’t help thinking, though, that if she’s on their side—if she’s willing to fight with them instead of against them—they might actually have a chance against the werewolves, the Originals. They might actually have a shot at eliminating the threat instead of outrunning it, at protecting Elena once and for all.

It means giving up human blood, which isn’t his favorite thing to do, but he’s done it before, can do it again. Will do it for Elena, if that’s what it takes.

“You have my word, slayer,” he says, peering down seriously into her eyes. For once, he means it. “You help us keep Elena safe, and we’ll all be on our best behavior, or you get to wipe out every creature of the night that lives in Mystic Falls.”

She nods, after a moment, then drains her glass of bourbon with an exaggerated, satisfied smack of her lips.

“Alright then. First things first: who’s Elena?”

#the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvd #vampire diaries fanfic #tvd fanfic #the vampire diaries fanfic #damon salvatore #damon salvatore fanfic #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore x female reader

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reviewdiaries · 11 months

Text

Examining that Nancy x Ace scene from 4x01

It’s been far, far, far too long since we’ve had new Nancy Drew, but they still managed to make it worth the wait. Honestly that last scene is absolutely unhinged and I am here for it. But I wanted to take a minute to break it down (because that’s my jam) and make myself feral watching it approximately 8,000 times. Fair warning it gets long, more beneath the cut.

By the time we reach that final scene Ace is absolutely done. My boy has put himself through the wringer, both by thinking he isn’t enough and that’s why Nancy wouldn’t want him, and by then thinking he’s ruined everything by trying to kiss her. This is a guy who has spent just over two months without the support of one of his closest friends (see aforementioned trying to kiss) and thinking he’s ruined his chance with the woman he’s in love with. I think the power of realising Nancy’s been lying to him fuelled his mad run all the way from the Historical Society to Icarus Hall. Because when she opens the door and he’s panting trying to get the words out, sure some of that is down to the depth of the emotion he’s feeling, but a lot of that is the fact that he has forgotten he owns a car and has straight up run to talk to her.

And this is the most Ace we have seen Ace all episode. Every time we’ve seen him before this he’s been uncertain, unsure, completely knocked off his axis as though he has lost his true north. He’s tried to talk to Nancy, but this is Ace and he knows her, knows something isn’t right, particularly after the Lover’s Vigil when she says it’s her fault and she keeps leaning in and god he can feel it, feel something and then the glass is shattering and she’s gone. Again. Every bit of their interaction at the Vigil is instigated by her, the leaning in, the forehead touch.

Well, almost all of it. When he first catches her as she spins across the room towards him, there’s a split second where he’s steadying her without really putting his hands on her, unsure how he’ll be received, terrified to ruin it further, of crossing some unseen line.

And then the sheer need kicks in, the closeness of her after so long, and his hands tighten and pull her in towards him, just for a moment. Just a moment can’t hurt? Particularly when she’s looking at him like she’s drowning and he’s pulling her from the waves. And he can’t even finish his sentence when he glances down and sees the dress she’s wearing and it feels like there’s no one there but them. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like sitting at home alone, it was after twenty four hours without being able to see her he had to find her.

@livelovecaliforniadreams (GIF Credit)

Ace is a smart boy, he can read between the lines, and Nancy has been avoiding him so long precisely because of this, because he knows her and will see the lie in her words - she can’t even make herself believe them, every time she says they can’t she leans in a little more. And this is the tipping point, the dominos start to fall into place as he parses through what she’s saying and what she’s doing. As the jar in her hand shatters and something about the sound of breaking glass hits too close to the memory of glass shattering once before that he’s been playing over and over and over again for weeks.

@bess-turani-marvin (GIF credit)

If they didn’t almost immediately rush out to deal with the undead he’d have remembered and gone back to that pile of broken glass earlier, but it’s hours after that he finally remembers and suddenly his compass rights itself. He doesn’t have the answers, he doesn’t understand it yet, but he knows then that he’s not wrong, and the certainty burns away that lingering doubt that’s been clouding his mind for too long and fuels that desperate run to Icarus Hall, to her, and to some answers.

He’s direct now, no more stepping around the point and trying not to scuff through lines he doesn’t see. No he trusts his instincts, and more importantly he trusts Nancy, and although everything she’s been saying has been no no no, the word she’s written screams yes, you, it’s you, you’re not in this alone.

You were lying. You do have feelings for me.

Eye contact, that slow walk in, he doesn’t know it all yet but he knows the most important thing, and he knows Nancy isn’t going to talk about it unless he pushes her in just the right way. But this is Ace, and he knows exactly how to get Nancy to talk. Don’t give her room to evade, push through the denials. Crowd into her space until she gives him the truth.

And he hands over that paper (that paper that Nancy folded oh so neatly in one crisp fold when she wrote his name (his name) but now is crumpled from being clenched so tightly in his fist as he ran there) and the sudden absence of that square of truth is enough to make his fingers flex on empty air as he fists his hand again, suddenly bereft of the solid proof he’s held to so tightly.

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

He knows her handwriting, would know the sharp spike of her a’s and the slant of her e’s anywhere. He watched her protect that jar, try to cover up the pieces of it when she ran to clean up her hand, and now, as soon as she’s faced with the proof she can no longer meet his eye. Looks in his general direction, but evades his own stare knowing she cannot make the lie reach her eyes as she tries to deny it.

She walks away. He was expecting that. Given the amount of denial, of avoidance, of strangeness of the last two months, he didn’t expect her to admit it that quickly. So he follows her, he has time now, now he’s not worried about butting up against some unknown line he paces after her. Deliberate, unhurried, as he bats her feeble excuse away. And when she turns around he can see the defences crumbling, almost as though she wants him to keep pushing, keep asking, to unburden herself of this secret.

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

She’s not saying anything, and that would normally unnerve him, but the pieces are finally slotting in together and he has a theory, an idea that he wants to test. The words spilling out of him as he finally takes those shattered pieces of glass and holds them up to the light. The barometer, that was weird, a coincidence (not that he believes in those anymore) but the jar as well? Now that’s almost a pattern. That’s something he can work with. You can see the smile just tracing the curve of his lip.

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

He’s spent too long around Nancy and she’s rubbed off on him, and the tugging of a thread until he can see the whole picture, the tenacious worrying of a point until it makes sense, that’s him, but it’s also her, the two of them so intertwined now they’ve become a whole without ever realising it.

Both times I felt something and I know you felt it too.

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

Nancy opens her mouth to protest as he makes his declaration but closes it again quickly as he states that he knows she felt it too. He steps in - proximity, he’s learning, is the key. And intent, and he has enough intent for the both of them now. He is careful, oh so careful, so aware of her, for any (true) demand that he stop, but the longing in her eyes is a real thing and as he steps in she moves in closer too.

It’s a hypothesis, it’s a test, it’s a god damn it please let him be right and understand this, and wrong and let him finally (finally) kiss her. He knows what’s going to happen (maybe not exactly, but the shape of it) but there’s still that desperate longing hope that maybe this time they’ll kiss, that this time he’ll feel the shape of her lips under his, that this time he’ll be able to sink his hands into her hair and pull her close without her jerking away with that terrified look in her eyes. We’ve not seen them have this moment yet. Every hallucination he kissed her neck, never her lips. In the other timeline this crucial breathless moment of wanting turning into reality was never shown, just the aftermath. This moment, this threshold is something sacred, something special, that’s why it is this moment of near touch, of almost, of finding the shape of the boundary of the curse that the warning springs from.

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

But the torch glass shatters and the groan Ace lets loose, of frustration, of desperation, of want and need and longing is so nearly swallowed down as to be almost inaudible. Because he’s both got what he needed, what he wanted, and exactly the opposite. She is so close, and yet further than ever. And he would wait a hundred years for her, a thousand, but that doesn’t stop the desperate need whenever he’s close enough to touch her.

Nancy hears it though, just as clearly as she hears the glass breaking. For a moment she’s lost in the nearness of him, and she follows his movement back, desperate to remember the feel of his lips on her, lost in the memory of having done this a hundred times already. As she comes back to herself it crashes back in all the thousand reasons why they can’t, and she moves back, finally dragging her eyes to his - she owes him this much.

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

He is still so close and the sadness is overflowing from her. She’s admitted her feelings to herself, to her dads, and now finally to Ace. Not in so many words, not out loud, but it’s there in the sharp spike of an a and the slant of her e. It’s in the way she leans into him like a flower searching for sunlight whenever they’re close. In the way she can’t take her eyes from him when he’s near. Struck over and over by the disjointed feel of knowing and not knowing. She knows what it feels like to run her hands through his hair, knows that he smiles in his sleep, knows the precise cadence of his stuttering breath as they kiss. And yet she also doesn’t. She is stuck in this isolated limbo and so so tired of the weight of the secret pressing her down into a defeated shell of herself. She can’t focus on anything, the overlay of the knowing and not knowing - that Ace will bring her all the world’s sorbet to make her smile, that he thinks the town loves her and he’s with them, the feel of his blood on her hands as the light vanishes from his eyes.

She’s grieving and not, and alone and not, and it all sounds so silly even now, even after all they’ve been through to say the words out loud to him.

@nancy-drew (GIF Credit)

Because we’re cursed.

It’s the sort of thing you read about in books, that happens in fairy tales. The prince and princess were cursed and true loves kiss wasn’t enough to break it. It’s enough instead to shatter glass and remind them of their place. Temperance still reminding Nancy that she controls the strings even now in death.

Ace takes a step away and the loss of his warmth is enough to break her already fragile heart further. But he doesn’t leave, and he doesn’t doubt, and for now, that will have to be enough.

#nancy drew #nancy drew cw #nancy drew meta #nancy drew analysis #nace #cw nancy drew #nancy drew 4x01 #nancy drew spoilers #nancy x ace #nancy drew 4.01 #nancy #ace [redacted]

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