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thecreelhouse · 2 days

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pray, but heaven won’t let you back

Paring: vampire!Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Summary: Since the night Steve lost control, he’s been pushing away, afraid to hurt you again. You’ll do anything to convince him you still trust him, even giving into the bloodlust he’s tried to avoid. || fic inspired by this post.

WC: 3k

CW/Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, language, vampire nonsense/lore, blood play & blood sucking/feeding (nothing gory but still be cautious if you’re squeamish), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, lots of fluff and aftercare at the end

this is a modern vampire AU! can (kinda) be read as a standalone, but it’s a follow up to love’s the death of peace of mind and the bitter and the sweet.

A/N: i will never get sick of vampire!steve, so here’s another lil fic based off this post i saw earlier lmao. song title & lyrics are from worship - ari abdul. enjoy babes <3

pretty when you say my name like that / feel your lips trace down my neck / darlin', don't say nothin', just breathe pretty when you're looking up like that / pray but Heaven won't let you back / good on your knees

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It took one close call to push both you and Steve to question if you were right for one another. One slip up, where his lust for your blood called to him louder than usual; louder than your moans he earned through a skilled tongue you never grew tired of.

It took one close call for Steve to become rigid, self discipline at its height in your relationship.

It took one close call to set your desire in stone; you wanted Steve to turn you, wanted to join him in an eternity of a life you once believed wasn’t real.

Blood play wasn’t foreign before that night, but it was always controlled, always with moderation and care. Now that Steve lost control, even only for a minute, he didn’t trust himself with you. He began growing distant, physically and emotionally, and it was burrowing under your skin, deeper and deeper as time carried on.

Steve still loved you, and though you could tell because of his avoidant behavior, it hurt. It was for your sake, your safety, and he made that clear; yet you were becoming lonely and agitated without his touch.

Even beyond lust, you just wanted him to hold you, and you wanted to hold him. You missed the way he’d play pretend, acting irritated when you’d kiss him one too many times on the cheek in a day. You longed for the way either of you would roll over in your sleep, searching for the other subconsciously. You felt like a stranger to him, a ghost in the walls of the home you shared with him.

Maybe you were foolish to believe this love could last; this all started with a Halloween party hookup, after all. Just another pathetic mortal that fell prey to a vampire’s charm.

You’re getting ready to go out with some friends when something breaks Steve, just enough for him to see he’s losing you, letting you slip through his fingers that once held you tightly with possession and protection.

Sitting at the vanity, the warmth of the lights lining mirror feels good on your skin. It’s not that you avoid the daylight for Steve’s sake; the lore of vampires burning up in the sunlight was nothing more than a myth. The sun does, however, irritate the fuck out of most vampires, still too bright, but bothersome in a sensory overload sort of way more than threatening. But since the night Steve lost control, and you began losing him, you rarely left bed these days.

You deserved to feel the warmth, any warmth, after receiving a cold shoulder from Steve for awhile now. You’ve lost track of the days he began to back away, but it’s far too long despite the specifics.

While you’re fixing your makeup, wrapped in a long, silky, dusty rose robe, Steve walks in; he’s surprised to find you not only up and out of bed, but all dolled up, too.

“H- hey, love.” He goes to lean against the doorframe, but miscalculates how close he is to the frame, falling into it instead. You stifle a laugh, watching his figure fumble in your peripheral vision as you dust blush along your cheeks.

“Hi.”

He holds his breath while crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for a follow up with an expectant smile; it falls flat when you continue to ignore him.

“So… going somewhere?”

You still won’t look at him, another response multitasked as you work on your eye makeup. “Uh-huh.”

Steve’s eyes catch on the deep red, silky dress you have waiting for a night out, hung up on the door by its hanger. “Th- you’re going out in that?” He remembers gifting it to you for the holidays, joking he could never let you out of his sight if you wore it in public; he trusted you, but surely not any men around you.

Now, you’re planning on wearing it for the first time while out with your friends, and not him. Jealousy bubbles up within him.

“Your observational skills are great, Steve.” Your response is so harsh; even you feel bad for giving the frost right back to him.

“Thought you’d save it for one of our date nights,” He grumbles, like a child. You finally glance over at him, eyes narrowing as they meet his.

“What, do I need your permission to wear it?”

“No, don’t twist my words.”

“Steve, this is the most you’ve talked to me in weeks.” You leave the vanity to change into your dress. With a quick tug of the tie of your robe, it slinks to the floor. Your back is to him, missing the way his jaw slacks to the floor at the sight of your lingerie set: a red, lacy set that hugs your curves deliciously; another gift from him, one without reason. “What, are you jealous? I’m done moping around and waiting for your attention.”

Steve loved showering you in gifts, especially in his favorite color— how typical of a vampire to love the color red; though you tried insisting you needed nothing more but him, he couldn’t help himself from spoiling you.

A groan slips out of him as two things push to the front of his mind:

He’s painfully aroused, tenting in his tight pants, in need of relief.

That, and the bloodlust he’s been fighting since that close call is back, full force.

One minute, you’re reaching for the dress to change into, the next, he’s shoving you against the nearest wall. You gasp as he pins your arms above your head with one large hand easily holding both of your wrists.

“Steve—“

“Might wanna text your friends, let ‘em know you’re running late.” He rolls his hips into yours roughly, earning the first pleasing sound from you tonight; you whimper and pout as his other hand grabs you by the chin, grip hard. “Oh, princess, am I throwing your night off?”

You can’t bring yourself to answer while his hand leaves your face, wasting no time to grope your chest with a cruel touch. You arch into his grip and mewl, eyes fluttering shut as he kicks your legs apart before slotting a leg against your core. Instinctively, you grind onto his thigh, heat already sticky through the lacy fabric you wear.

“Might not make it there at all, huh?” He’s mocking you, taunting you, and you’re infuriated. You’re pissed he’s pulling this after weeks of being distant, and you’re really pissed at yourself for instantly melting under his touch.

Pushing through the haze of desire, you glare at him. “Steve, enough.”

“Oh, c’mon, since when are you not into—“

“I said enough.”

You’re trying to steady your breaths as you hold a cold stare with him; his features falter, hands releasing you before stepping back.

“I’m sorry,” Any and all confidence is thrown out the window as he shrinks under your vexed gaze. “I- I— I’ve just— fuck. I fucked up, alright?”

You’re nowhere near as strong as him, yet when you push him back with your hand on his chest, he stumbles back. You push him again, and again, and once more, until the backs of his legs hit the bed, throwing his balance off. He falls back onto the mattress, panting lightly as his stare is fixated on you above him.

“You can’t do this shit, Steve. You can’t touch me when you want then leave me alone like nothing matters. I told you I’m not afraid of you, I trust you.”

“Yeah, and I cracked any trust by losing control—“

“Steve, this is who you are!” You reach out, cradling his head in your hands on either side of his face. He can’t resist leaning into your touch, guilt playing up on his features. “I’ve accepted that from the start. I’ve accepted the risk since the first night together. What I didn’t accept or agree to was being treated like a total stranger by the one I love most.”

“I know. I know. I just wanted to keep you safe. All I want is for you to be safe, and happy. All I want is for you to feel loved, and I hurt you instead. I’m sorry.” He sounds so pained, nuzzling into your palm while he grabs your arm, pushing your hand against his face harder.

Aside from the last few weeks, there have never been moments where you felt shoved away, or less than Steve. And now, it’s only happening because he thought it would protect you. Just the honest admission alone shows you he meant well, even if he hurt you. It wasn’t intentional, just like the night he lost control. He knows he hurt you, but it was never intentional.

You can tell Steve is fighting the instinctual hunger for your blood; his eyes are dark with desire, but teetering on the edge of falling into that deep red shade that could only signal trouble. His grip on your arm shakes as he restrains himself from overpowering you again.

You try to keep him with you, asking softly, “Make it up to me?”

“H- how? I’ll do anything, anything you want, love.” His breaths run shallow as you straddle his lap, hands snaking around to the back of his head; you gently push his face towards your neck, but he leans back. “I— okay, anything but— honey, I can’t.”

“You want to.”

“Doesn’t m- mean I should.” Steve is so conflicted; he wants this, he needs you. You want him, you need him, too. But it’s a risk with the odds against him.

“I’m giving you the green light, Steve.” You kiss his forehead, then his cheek, leading to his lips. Before you kiss them, you murmur, “I trust you.”

He closes the gap with a frantic kiss, one arm slinking around your hips to your back, the other exploring your body clumsily. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, fangs scraping along the skin. You yelp, and Steve stops.

“Love, we— this is—“ His gaze sinks deeper into that shade of red you once knew as a signal for danger, but you trust him. You know him. You know he’d never take it too far, not to a level where you couldn’t handle it. “You’re not— I’m not ready to turn you yet—“

“I didn’t expect that. I wouldn’t complain, but I promise that’s not what I’m asking for right now.” You roll your hips onto his bulge, strained under the tight fabric of his pants still. “I’m just asking you to trust me. Trust me, to trust you.”

Steve searches your gaze for any doubt, any signs of faltering or second guessing; there’s only certainty and adoration. You nod softly, encouraging him once more.

In a flash, you’re thrown to the pillows at the top of the bed, landing on them with a surprised laugh. Steve crawls above you, with a warm smile of his own, despite the red in his gaze.

“You’ll stop me if—“

“Yes, yeah, just—“

He cuts you off with a rough kiss, fangs poking at your lips before he kisses along your jawline, trailing to your neck. When he reaches the crook of your neck, he sucks softly, earning airy moans from you while you grab him by his shirt. He laughs breathily into your skin, tickling you.

“Starting to think you like this more than I do,” He teases after pulling off your neck, spit with a hint of red dripping from the corner of his mouth. You nod with a dazed giggle, a sound he’s missed so, so dearly since pushing away. “I’m so sorry, love.” He ducks into your neck again, murmuring in between kisses, “You’re my everything.”

Stealing the spotlight from your answer, he tests the waters by sinking his fangs into your neck, ever so slightly. You gasp, arching up into him.

“Sensitive little thing,” He teases, kitten licking at the few drops of blood on your skin. He delves back in, sinking his fangs a little deeper. A sharp, pained gasp leaves your lips, and it’s almost enough to make him stop, but it dissolves into a satisfied moan. “What’d you think was gonna happen tonight? You’d find someone else?”

Here comes the possessive attitude you always crave.

“N- no, don’t want anyone else but you.”

He’s lapping at the blood now, sucking intermittently as it flows out. He’s in such a heady daze, beginning to whimper into your skin.

“S’what I thought, princess.” He sucks stronger this time, groaning into you as he feeds. “Fuck, y’taste so goddamn good, love.”

You’re reaching the dizzy, intoxicating thrill achieved only when Steve takes you like this. The only sensation that has ever come close is when he chokes you, plays with your air and blood flows, but it’s never the same as when he feeds off your blood.

Giggly and growing lightheaded, the pain has become full pleasure to you at this point. “You ever cum from sucking blood?” The question is silly, to you, but not to Steve. He lets out a guttural moan, mouth still on your skin. The teamwork of his fangs in your neck, his lips sucking blood out, and his tongue soothing over the wounds make you whine and writhe underneath him.

“Every time y’let me drink yours— f- fuck—“

You didn’t even notice his pants were finally down, halfway, at least; he’s fisting his cock, precum spilling onto you from his rosy, swollen tip while he continues to work at your neck. The noises he makes are pornographic at this point. You reach around to hold him, hand to the back of his head, cradling him close.

“Touch yourself, love.”

Obeying, your other hand slides down between the two of you, fingers finally meeting your clit. You lazily rub in circles, eyes fluttering shut with a blissed out smile. “Steve…”

“This turns you on just as much as it does for me, huh?” You always gonna be fucked out every time I drink from you?”

You nod, head in the clouds; the two of your hands continue to bump against one another every so often, setting off little grunts and whimpers. “Uh-huh…”

“Imagine h- how wrecked you’ll be when I…” His hips stutter as he continues jerking off. “… when I turn you. Might like sucking blood more than y’like sucking my cock.”

You gasp at his words, nodding wildly as he pulls back, looking down at you with devotion and desire.

“You doin’ okay, love?” Steve asks, shuddering, close to his high. “Can I- I- m’so close…”

You hum with a dopey smile, “Here,” is all you can manage to say as you pull your bra down, exposing your chest. Steve only lasts a second longer before he finally reaches his high, spilling onto your tits as he moans lowly, echoing against the walls. The sight of him coming undone above you, the feeling of his spend against your skin, the intoxication of losing blood, it’s all more than enough to follow him with your own climax.

Moaning for only a moment, Steve pushes forward, crashing his lips into yours, melding together with the metallic taste of your blood on your tongue. When he pulls back, you’re left panting sleepily, fucked out despite only getting off from your own touch and his fangs in your neck.

“Love, you know it’ll be hard to turn you knowing I’d have to give this up, right?” You reach up to him, gently touching his face. He takes your hand in his, kissing the back of your knuckles softly.

“S’okay, we can wait a lil’ longer.” You watch the shade of red in his eyes settle into the calm, muted red they usually are. Before you can praise him for being successful in holding himself under control, he kisses you quickly.

“Stay here, gonna get some stuff to clean up,” He does exactly that, returning with towels to clean off with and a first aid kit. He hands over a water bottle to you, careful not to make you spill it as he runs his tongue softly along the wounds, healing them with ease as he’s done plenty of times before. The first aid kit is kind of useless by now, but he still properly cleans around the newly healed wounds.

When Steve finishes, he gently lifts your head up toward his, searching for any signs of distress. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sleepy.”

He nods, “No tingling or weird feelings like last time, right?”

“Right,” You smile, curling up next to him with a content sigh. “Can we take a bubble bath?”

“You’re half asleep,” Shaking his head, he chuckles, “I don’t want you to drown.”

“Says the guy who just stabbed my neck with his teeth.”

“Yeah, you’re fine. The sass is back.” Then he remembers, you had plans. “Hey, did you get to tell your friends you weren’t coming? Sorry for stealing your night, love.”

“I didn’t have plans, just was hoping that’d get your attention finally,” You snuggle even closer, resting your head on his chest. Meanwhile, he scoffs out a laugh as he finds out you tricked him. He couldn’t even be mad, though, because it worked. Breaking his thoughts, you mutter, “You did it, y’know.”

Steve’s brows furrow, “What’d I do?” He’s lost, assuming you’re babbling sleepily.

“Your eyes changed back. You didn’t lose control.” You’re falling into slumber fast. “I meant it when I said I trust you, Steve.”

He kisses the top of your head, arms holding you close. “I trust you, love. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

You’re down for the count, only able to murmur back, “Love you, Steve.” He watches as your breaths fall low and steady, finding safety and comfort while the two of you are back where you belong— in each other’s arms.

Steve’s nowhere near ready to turn you, but when the time comes, he’s certain it’s part of both of your futures, intertwined into one. He knows now the two of you are meant to spend eternity together.

Until then, he’ll cherish this complicated love between human and vampire; he’ll cherish you as you are now, before that becomes a mere memory once he brings you over to his side of life.

Eyes growing heavy, Steve whispers to you, now fast asleep, “I love you, too. ‘Til the end of time.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #vampire!steve harrington #my fics #pray but heaven won’t let you back

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excalibur-gone-missing · 1 day

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Paring: Tsukishima x fem reader

Requested: no

Genre: smut

Warning(s): cheating, unprotected sex, degradation

Summary: just smut

Word count: 837

Other works

Beta reader: none

a/n: I would greatly appreciate it if all of you could take a moment to comment on this fic. As an author, I find great value in your feedback, as it allows me to better comprehend my readers, and I thoroughly enjoy interacting with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcome, so don't hesitate to talk about this fic or send me an ask. Moreover, if you loved it, don't forget to reblog and help me reach a wider audience.

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

Tsukishima knows you like him. He’s aware that given the chance, you’d let him take you to new heights, letting him make you see stars. I mean, he’s already experienced your passion firsthand, so there’s little to no one to stop him from seeking it again, except perhaps your boyfriend.

Now, don’t get him wrong. Tsukishima isn’t one to tolerate adultery, especially when one of his friends does it. But for you, he sure can bend some rules. It’s not as if he’s in love with you; no, you’re not the type of woman he could fall for. But that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the intense pleasure he feels when buried deep inside you, releasing all his pent-up frustrations.

He’s aware of the fact that you love your boyfriend to death, despite all his flaws. As a matter of fact, he also knows that your boyfriend loves you just as much. Who else would forgive a cheating bitch like you over and over, even after she says she would change? Could never be him, but it doesn’t matter to him at all. All he cares about is getting his dick wet, and as it seems, you are one of the best pussies in the city, so why should he not use you to your full potential?

“Does your simp of a boyfriend have any idea that you are getting your insides rearranged by me right now?” Tsukishima taunts, thrusting into you with such force that it leaves your mind reeling.

“N-no,” you stutter, your grip on his shoulders weakening under the intensity of his movements. With a swift motion, he flips you over on the bed, positioning you to his liking, and plunges back into your slick, eager flesh, continuing his relentless assault.

“Can’t fuck you like I can, now can he?” he mocks, feeling your pussy clenching his cock like never before.

“N-no,” you barely manage to answer, your mind going hazy with pleasure.

“Tell me, who fucks you this good, huh? Who fucks you so good that you are fine with cheating on your bitch of a boyfriend, you whore?”

“You, Tsuki- ah-,” you manage to utter, your words barely coherent as he hits spots inside you with a precision no other man has ever achieved.

“Yes, you cheating whore, scream my name. Let everyone know who fucks you better than your boyfriend,” he groans as he slaps you hard on your ass, making you scream even more.

“God, you’re squeezing me so tightly,” he groans, his member throbbing inside you as your walls tighten around him, creating a velvety ring at the base of his shaft.

The sound of intense skin slapping fills the room, mingling with your wild cries of pleasure, making him almost come to the edge.

“Creaming my cock so well like the slut you are, gosh you are one of the best pussies I have had,” he says gripping onto your neck to cut off your air supply, as your insides start spasming.

Sensing that you were about to come, the man immediately went to rub your clit, making your body tense up even more. Without warning, you spill out on his cock, milking both of your juices.

It doesn’t take Tsukishima much longer to spurt his load inside you. With some more thrusts, he empties himself fully inside you. Plopping beside you, he slips his soft dick out of you and scoops the mixture of both your cums leaking from your pussy and makes you lick it off his fingers, as you whine because of overstimulation.

After some time, he chirps up. “This will probably be the last time we fuck. Yamaguchi wanted to set me up with this girl, and I don’t want to do this while going out on dates with her.”

You look at him bewildered, “but what about us?”

“Huh?” he asks, clearly confused.

“About us, Tsuki, what will you do about the fact that I’m not with my boyfriend but you?” you ask.

“Maybe teach him how to fuck you for real. Also, if you think I would be in a relationship with you, you are wrong. You cheated on your boyfriend! I don’t want that shit in my life; I would very much like my partner to be loyal, unlike you,” giving you a look of disgust he continues.

“I fucked you because you are a good booty call, and are always available, but it’s time you get your shit together and stop involving me in your problems, plus it’s better if we don’t talk anymore. I don’t want my potential girlfriend to get insecure because of our past.”

With that, he collects his clothes and is out of the apartment in seconds, leaving you rethinking the decisions you had made and what exactly brought you to this place you are. What turned you into this cheating, lying woman, so much so that the boy you had called your best friend for the longest time ever, now looks at you with disgust.

The end

#kei tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x reader smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader smut #hq smut #tsukishima smut #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu x chubby reader smut #hq tsukki #hq tsukishima #hq angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu tsukki

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hollowed-theory-hall · 26 days

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Can you talk about your thoughts on hinny? I have no problem with people shipping it but to me personally it just doesn't work. It feels like Rowling tried too hard or maybe just wasn't good at writing romance and messed it up. Maybe it was too rushed? The ship doesn't work for me but I'd love to hear your views.

Okay, sorry it took a while to answer this, I actually have a lot of thoughts and I have posts on some of them that I hope to get out soon-ish. I also wanted to go back to the books to make sure I'm not talking out of my ass. But I don't like Hinny, never did. And my reasons are kinda divided into three categories.

Disclaimer: I don't have anything against anyone who ships hinny, it's just really not my thing and I don't see it working with the way I see their characters.

And that's like the core of it. I just don't see Harry and Ginny as compatible on a character level. That and their relationship never really read as believable to me in the books.

The 3 categories I mentioned are:

Harry's character

Firstly, I think Harry is gay. Not bi, but gay. I think he was never actually attracted to a woman and I have a whole post to prove it. So, because that's how I read his character, I just can't really see him with any girl.

(Now, I don't think JKR intended for Harry to come off as gay, but he did)

Secondly, he never thought about Ginny, like, up until book 6, and even during large portions of book 6, he just isn't thinking about Ginny as a potential romantic interest. And when he does think about Ginny in the final two books it never reads like he really likes her. It reads like they decided they are dating, but I don't think Harry knows why he supposedly likes her. He just decided he does, but doesn't know why. It was kind of the same with Cho, where he said he had a crush on her and was nervous around her, but if you asked Harry what he likes about her, his answer would be: "Ehh...."

Like, Harry doesn't really seem to know why he's dating Ginny, and neither do I. It's just how it's written.

2. Ginny's character

So, this is again my opinion, but I don't like Ginny. I just don't like her character. I wish her off the page whenever she talks.

And, when it comes to shipping, for me, I need to find both the characters involved interesting and fun for me to explore to ship them together and care about the pairing. As I don't like Ginny and don't really care for her, I can't really ship her with anyone, not really. It's not even like I hate her (not the way I hate Dumbledore), I just find a lot of her actions and behavior iffy and she annoys me more often than not.

I'm not going to list everything I don't like about Ginny (some of it appears in the rest of this post). But her treatment of Fluer, for example, really soured her character to me. Like, sure, Ginny's young, but, she's 15, and by that point, I think she should take responsibility for being awful to Fluer who was nothing but nice to all of them. Envy is not a good look for Ginny.

3. How they are portrayed together

Like I mentioned in the Harry section, their romance just never really felt there to me. The descriptions were off and left me feeling annoyed at their scenes together more than anything else.

Again, I'm writing a more comprehensive post about it, but the gist of it is that Harry's thoughts about Ginny in books 6 and 7 are weirdly detached for a supposed crush at best or outright uncomfortable for me to read at worst.

Now, we know Harry can describe characters he finds attractive in greater detail. There is none of that detail with Ginny. He only mentioned her hair color and that her hair is long and smells nice. Like, he doesn't talk about her eye color, her facial structure, eye shape (like he does sometimes with characters he does find attractive) — nothing. He doesn't even call her pretty once! At least he referred to Cho Chang as pretty twice in the series.

In the books there is never a scene (not even one) that convinces me they should be together. Like, they have no chemistry. They kinda remind me of Ron and Lavender tbh. They make out and are present in the same space often, but they never talk. Not really. I don't think Ginny actually knows Harry all that well because he never honestly talks to her about anything real. They don't really have chemistry or a relationship, they're just together. At least, that's how I always saw them.

And yes, Harry has his jealousy moments (that are portrayed so weirdly I always narrow my eyes at them to make sure they were actually there, but that's a whole other post about Harry's chest monster of jealousy), but he still doesn't really explain what he finds in Ginny. He doesn't mention she's attractive or pretty at any point, nor does he mention anything he particularly likes about her personality (except that she doesn't weep like Cho and is good at Quidditch. Neither of which are particularly good basis for a relationship).

Like, Ginny mentions why she likes Harry and that she does multiple times. Harry by contrast, just feels so incredibly uninvolved in his own relationship, to me.

Also, personally, I just find the setup of their relationship iffy. Like Ginny outright says she never gave up on Hary and always knew they'd end up together. It means, that since she was 11 (or earlier), she was crushing on Harry, never gave up on her crush, and considered them ending up together fate. She dated other guys to make Harry jealous and pay attention to her, and that's just really gross. I don't like her long obsessive crush on Harry or her treatment of the other guys she dated on her way to get Harry.

Proof of that, for those wondering:

“I never really gave up on you,” she [Ginny] said. “Not really. I always hoped. . . . Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more — myself.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 647)

She literally said she dated other guys so Harry would take notice of her. That just grosses me out.

So, no, I don't like Hinny (or Ginny).

#anti hinny #harry potter #harry potter thoughts #hp thoughts #hp #that being said I don't particularly like drarry either #or most harry parings really #like there are parings with him I don't mind in fic #but I'm not truly passionate about any of them #there is 1 harry pairing I actively like #but I got into it on accident and its with a very minor character #harry is my precious boy and deserves only the best #that's why I'm so picky about who I ship him with #ginny weasley critical #anti ginny weasley

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sickuma · 10 months

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SILLAGE — a Simon Riley fic. 2/2

❱ again this was an au first written on tiktok! this will be the last part of it, please keep in mind that it is all fiction and that if you're going through the same thing and are having the same thoughts, please seek someone you trust. Please fight for yourselves, you're worth it ꜝ？ Warning. . this is a heavy angst fic, mentions of suicide and acts of committing, if that is something that triggers bad emotions, please exit the fic.

paring is Ghost x Reader this is unedited! mistakes such as spelling and grammatical errors are to be expected !

Part 1 (^_^;)

SILLAGE — (n.) The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume.

—hey [name]? I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I just really—

There was a short pause, as the voicemail erupts a slight static sound.

—I love you. That should have been enough reason. No, you were enough. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was cowardly, I figured that you'll be happier and safer, being with someone who isn't me. Someone who isn't a soldier.

It was the same night he left your apartment. He swore to himself he would not come crawling back. To protect both of you, at the time, it had been the best solution for him. Until the midnight strikes, he remembered just how serious you looked, just how accepting you looked.

Too accepting.

—because who knows when one of these missions would finally take me out. I can't let you suffer through that, I can't be the one to give you that kind of grief. So I thought leaving you was the best option.

There was a dire pause as he thought of the best words possible to express himself. He’s never been one to do such, but for you, he’s willing to be better.

—it wasn't.

He spoke desperately, almost shaking from just how much adrenaline rushed through him. He had just argued with the team, and after a long hour of explaining to them what he needed to do, he was finally permitted to bail out on this mission, it’s not like he wouldn't leave without permission, that's how urgent this is for him, he needed to get to you as soon as possible,

Even he doesn't know why he’s in a rush,

Maybe it's because of your silence, the unanswered calls, and unread messages that brought him on edge.

—I love you, far too much, my love, to even think straight without you. I love you so much it's hard to breathe. I so desperately love you to the point it hurts.

The desperation and sincerity. It was all there. He knew if he couldn't let it out now, he won't let it out ever. This was his only chance of being happy.

You were his only chance for happiness. He almost couldn't believe he thought letting you go because of his fear was the best decision.

He stupidly let you go, succumbing to the fear of dying while you wait for him. He knows better, he will do better,

For you. Because you're worth changing for, you're worth the risk.

—please don't hate me. I know I was an ass for leaving in the first place, baby, I am sorry. You loved me so much that it felt so good, I didn't know I'm capable of feeling that way, so I was scared that worse would come after. I'm not scared anymore. You looked at me like there's something in me worth looking at,

He felt like he was saying so much yet so little at the same time,

He had so much to tell you but very few words to express it. He needs to be with you. He needs to see you and physically explain to you just how much you mean to him.

—I won't waste it, love, not again. Please open the door for me when I get back.

He frowned, realizing once again just how idiotic he was. He knew he should not have done what he did, but it was over with. The only thing left to do is to make things right somehow.

—I've never been taught how to love, I have.. I don't— I'm not the best at it. I'm sorry baby, if I'm not loving you the right way, and for leaving just like that, but I promise I'll be better. you're worth the better of me, you're worth learning love for.

He needed you, and you needed him. That should have been enough reason to risk it.

—when I come back, please let me hold you. Please forgive me for making you feel like an option between my job. It's you. It's always been you. I love you, baby, wait for me. I'll make this right.

As the line cuts, the static sound fills the eerie room of yours. The very same room he had walked out from, the same room where you sat breathing hours ago. There were no other living sounds except for the occasional ticking of the clock.

There were no signs nor sounds of life perceived in the room. The silence was thick. With your lifeless body beside the bed in a fetal position, a bottle of used pills tightly wrapped around your hands. It was light, about three to four pills left inside a newly bought bottle.

It was dead silent as if the universe sympathized with you.

Allowing silence in regards to respect for what has passed, for what has ended.

﹑

“My family’s never been the typical joyous family, I guess that affected me, as a person in general.”

You explain, running your hand through his hair while his head laid on your lap. It’s one of those days where he’d be much affectionate compared to the majority of the time. He requested to hear about your childhood while he rests on you,

For a moment you felt your heart and breath hitch.

“I guess growing up in that kind of household really—really influenced my well-being. It's given me problems and worries I shouldn't have.” You were hesitant to continue, “Fear, I started having fears for a lot of things.”It's as if you caught a glimpse of his mind, taking in the details you've just given him.“Fears like?”

The moment the question reached your ears, he could see your body tense. He understood, and he doesn't plan on pushing it.“You don't have to answer that, my love.” he smiles, “No matter what it is you're scared of, let’s face it together, yeah? You have me. That's enough, I hope.”

Little did he know that fear was yet to come. The fear of leaving soon, the fear of being unable to keep going. How could you ever explain to him that you don't plan to stay long?

﹑

With a ragged breath from exhaustion, he dropped his things once again, the same way he did before he left. Facing your door yet again, panting as a feeling of discomfort plagued him, why exactly? He’s finally here. Why is he so distraught, he wondered.

“[name]?” he knocks,

Swallowing the lump in his throat, his voice strained, and his state dishevelled. “[name] please—it’s me, please answer.”

The lack of response made him think about just how angry he made you,

“I'm sorry,” he whispers,

“I know I was stupid and irrational. I won't do it again, petal, please open the door.”

To say he’s nervous would be an understatement. What would he do if you never find it in you to let him back into the comfort of your arms? Will he return to the familiar cold he had forgotten when he met you?

“[name] I love you.”

He desperately spoke, yearning for an answer; the smallest sign of acceptance.

It was odd. How quiet it was. Are you that mad? He wonders, but then again, he knew you’re not one to ignore, not even when you��re the angriest you've been. You would never shut him out, not ever. “[name], please, answer, or I'll have to go inside.”

“Baby are you okay?” no response.

Each passing second was like a countdown. He was uneasy and distraught. Afraid even.

The silence felt deafening. He was afraid of what? He had no clue what he was so afraid of, surely you're okay...

Right?

“[name], I'm coming in,” he says sternly, fishing the spare key he oh so gratefully forgot to give back. His heart thumps louder with each action.

The moment he entered, the creak of the door interrupted the silence. He felt like he was intruding on an abandoned space. It felt wrong. He knew something was wrong.

“[name]? I'm back, like—like I always am.” his voice broke, stepping inside, head looking around, hoping to find you and engulf you in his longing arms. “As I told you, I’ll always find my way back… right?”

He kept speaking while he walked, checking and opening every door. Starting from the small kitchen to the bathroom, checking everywhere until there was one room left. He dreaded it, for no reason he was scared and yet he rushed,

He spoke, no—he goes on a tangent,

“I'll take the month off. We’ll do anything you want, anything to make up for this. I promise we can even get a pet, I always say no, right? This time, I'll agree, anything for you, my love just—”

The silence rung,

Apart from the sound of the door opening by his force, there were no sounds made, not from him, not from anything. He simply stood, dumbfounded at what the room unveiled; at that moment, nothing mattered, not even the breath he had held unknowingly.

A ragged chuckle escaped his lips, though it was hollow. As if he was desperate to know that maybe this is all some sick prank. Maybe this was one of your silly games he always put up with, “Baby? What’s this? Why are you on the floor?”

“Jokes over [name] get up—”

When it all came to view, he was silenced. The second he stepped closer, he saw how your body lay lifeless, how you held that bottle, and how his eyes drifted onto the lone tear, which evidently dried along the hours.

How long have you been here?

In this state? How long has it been since you left him?

He couldn't feel. He couldn't grasp his head around the sight before him. He’s well familiar with death. He’s seen it before, and he’s lost comrades before, but nothing comes close to what lay in front of him.

How does one react when their lifeline lies lifeless before their very eyes?

He couldn't approach nor speak. He simply stood with weak knees, tempting to give out. It didn't take him long to crouch, eyes wide open with lips parted slightly. There were no tears, no emotions, the moment numbed him. It didn't feel like reality,

There he crouched, just a few steps away from you. It didn't feel like his heart dropped. It felt almost worse, as if you'd taken it with you. How could this have happened? Did he cause this?

If you had told him a day ago that he would witness the person he loved the most laying on the floor devoid of life, he would have laughed at your face, punching you even. This isn't reality. This isn't a reality he wants to face.

It took every courage in his body to bring himself closer to you, afraid of what more he’d discover. With slow steps, he drew closer, grabbing your hand was the first thing he thought of doing. “Oh god…” his voice broke,

Your body isn't as warm as it used to be,

Not as he remembered. The warmth he loved when he would hold you against him, it’s gone. You're gone.

He had felt countless of stiff lifeless bodies and yet yours hurt the most,

The mere thought of it destroyed him. It hasnt sinked in yet, but he could tell. He could tell his demise is near. The realization will hit him in a short while.

“Baby, im home…” this wasn't him. This was not his voice. Stuttering over the easiest words, strained with pent-up sobs. His chest felt heavy, almost making it difficult to breathe.

Yet with hitched breath, he picked up your limp body and placed you in his arms, crushing your icy body against him. He held you tightly, but his hands cradled your body tenderly. It was as if he’s afraid of hurting you more.

Ghost was forever fearless, always facing whatever challenge was given to him, even his mortal enemy would know that he isnt necessarily the easiest solder to crack, let alone destroy and yet he finds himself sat on the floor holding the lifeless frame of his lover,

Cradling whatever is left of you,

Desperately holding onto what he can possibly hold on to.

The lieutenant everyone looked up on, admired and viewed as an admirable man, sat on the floor with a weighing heart. Holding back the tears that had formed without his knowledge as he held your body,

but right now, he wasn't lieutenant simon ‘ghost’ riley.

At this moment, he was just simon, the simon you loved desperately, the simon who loved you just as insanely.

This person right this moment was your simon,

He wasnt anyone else, he was yours.

As he sat on the hard cold floor, thoughts roaming with his heart screaming, he felt like a mess, but that didn't matter. Words can not describe the regret, remorse, and stupidity he felt,

If i didnt leave,

If i didn't walk out that door,would you still have been alive in my arms?Would i still have to hold you soulless?

He held you closer, bringing you closer to him, as close as possible. He felt nothing but regret, nothing but anger for himself. Why is it that the very grief he tried to protect you from, the same reason he left, the same grief he avoided you to feel, why is it that he’s feeling it now?

His ragged sobs filled the room, and the rest remained still as if everything sympathized for him. As if the world understood the hurt he carried. He sobs, holding onto you as if doing so would bring you back. He knew nothing well, and yet he foolishly cried, hoping you’ll hear him and come back to ease the pain.

Like you always did.

At the corner of his eyes, he saw the letters piled not far from them. Without standing, nor letting go of you, he reached for it. Reading the names addressed on each, until he sees the one for him.

Of all the few letters he saw, his was the only one with tear drops which ruined the ink in front, almost unable to read, he brought it closer, dropping the rest.

Simon,

I felt everything.

Thank you, and im sorry,

I love you :)

Swallowing the impossibly heavy lump on his throat, he opened the carefully folded letter. He was met with even more tear drops. The thought of you crying, alone, while you write him a letter to bid him goodbye, crushed his soul.

He cant imagine a greater pain,

It felt surreal.

How could I..

How could I have lost you this easily.

With his blurry vision, he starts to read—well—attempt to. With every sentence, every punctuation, every meaning of your words, all of it felt like a slap to reality.

How could he have not seen?

How did he not notice? Not paying attention to what you were going through? How could he have been so careless as to leave you all alone.

The very fear you spoke of,

He did just exactly what your family had done.

If anybody could have saved me,

it would have been you.

He read the part over and over again, allowing your words to cut through his heart repeatedly. He left you, and yet, at the end of the day, you still see him as someone—the only one who could save you.

Despite the war inside your mind,

Inside your mind and unwavering emotions, which he hadn't bothered to unveil, he remained the most important person.

May it be in your chaotic mind or the furthest crevices of your heart, he remained on both.

He read it all,

Understanding every single thing you failed to say in person,

Everything you failed to say while you still lived.

It hurts even more. He thought nothing could be more painful when he saw you laying lifeless. But having to read what you wanted to say,

How sorry you were, how thankful you are to him, and how he made you feel.

It was surely another cut to an already existing wound. His mind flashed memories while he went over the tear stained letter you left.

He remembered everything as if they were as fresh as yesterday. When you first smiled at him, when you first held hands, when your lips first touched.

Your words were true. The story of you really is short-lived. But he couldn't help but think about the what If's

If he stayed,

If he hadn't walked out,

If he ignored his fear of abandoning you,

If he hadn't been so stupid and cowardly.

He gave up, and the heavy lump on the throat overcame him, letting the sting linger for as long as eternity. He read the last words on the letter, with a loud sob, with repeated pleads.

Repeatedly apologising, repeatedly begging for you to come back so he could fix things so everything could return to normal,

So you could return.

A childish wish. A high-ranking soldier held the lifeless body of his lover all while he begs for them to come back.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, voice too broken to speak normally. "I'm sorry for not noticing."

"I'm sorry you had to be alone."

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He repeats over and over again, holding you against him.

At the back of the letter, he could barely see the words written with how blurry the tears clouded his eyes.

Thank you for making me feel.

The words only crushed him even more, sobbing and crying harder to no avail.

"[name]..." He whispers, holding you close. "Did it hurt? I'm sorry, it must have been so hard."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry for not being here you."

He apologized, wishing he could have been with you. To convince you otherwise, wishing he could have been here to avoid this,

To avoid losing you.

Wishing he could have stayed to keep making you feel.

The thoughts of your words before he left suddenly entered his mind,

"Can I hug you?"

"One last time?"

Now it all makes sense why you looked so serene, why you looked so accepting. Why did you have that small smile on your lips,

You were bidding him goodbye.

That really was the final hug.

The final touch he'd ever get, the final living affection he would get from you.

He holds you now, but it wasn't the same, not even close. Back then, you were smiling and breathing, but now you're no different to an inanimate object. Stiff and cold, this is the person he loved so dearly?

It ached.

And it ached painfully.

The type of ache to never go away, the type of ache he'd keep forever.

The type of ache he'll willingly embrace,

As he held you that night, mourning for what could've been, mourning for someone beyond saving.

This was the ache he'd willingly feel forever,

If it means having you in his mind and heart. He would willingly hurt himself by keeping that ache if it means keeping you in his deceased heart forever.

As the remnant of your memories roamed the room, your presence which now passed, the scent of yours he dearly craved. It left a sillage pain to remember,

You left a sillage worth remembering.

"I'll keep you in my heart,

Even if that damage me,

Even if it kills me.

I'll keep you safe forever."

1K notes · View notes

rimunagenius · 14 days

Note

Would you be down to do a Kate fic where reader is a new transfer and Kate keeps seeing her all over campus and is quickly crushing on her (like she’s down BAD) Then one day when she’s going to meet Caitlin for lunch/coffee/something lol she sees her walking with r laughing then saying goodbye. Kate immediately starts interrogating CC the second she’s within earshot because she wants to find out everything she can about her mystery girl. CC laughs and says she transferred to play soccer and they’re in x class together. Then she’s like as fun as this is I’m starving so can we go eat now. From there she literally sees her everywhere because her and CC start to hang out outside of class, once she finds out r also played basketball in high school and college (focusing on soccer when she transferred) she invites her to pickup games or practice when she knows they’ll be using the managers to scrimmage and this is where Kate finally meets her and is officially smitten. R thinks she’s absolutely adorable and hopes this is the girl Cait said she wanted to introduce her to.

Everywhere

ʚ paring: Kate Martin x reader

ʚ word count: 2.2k words

ʚ warnings: RPF!! , other than that, none that i can think of other than the use of y/n.

ʚ rimunagenius speaks: okay so anon, i love this idea!!…i loved it and im so sorry it took so long to write it and i may possibly consider writing a part two! I love the idea of Kate being so smitten for reader. she’s a sucker for a pretty lady! also i hope it’s okay that i kinda made the reader a ghost to kate..like kate needed to be actively LOOKING so it’d be better for when she actually saw her and i feel like this could’ve have been better so im sorry if it didn’t meet your expectations 😭

Everywhere. You were literally everywhere. She was definitely not complaining about it though. You were actually so beautiful. You were everywhere but near her. You took over her whole mind since this morning.

She saw you on what she assumed to be your first day. You looked like a lost puppy walking around looking for your class. "Hey, you doing okay?" Kate approached you, sliding one of the sides of her headphones behind her ear. God, you looked even prettier up close.

"Uh, yeah? I don't know where the science building is. I've been looking for about twenty minutes and no luck." You sighed, checking your phone, your friend Caitlin texting you while you pulled your schedule up.

"I can help. If you want?" Kate gave you a warm smile, looking down at your phone. She recognized the professor, having had him her sophomore year. It was a general education requirement for her major. "Oh, I've had him before. I can walk you and show you."

"That'd be great, thanks." The walk was quiet, kind of awkward. Kate was nervous to make small talk. She never thought this far ahead. Hell, she didn't even know she was walking up to you until you responded to her.

Kate thought about it the whole way to her next class. She thought about it the whole way back to her home. She thought about you. The way you smiled at her when she offered her help. She didn't know what was happening.

She's seen many pretty girls before and felt attracted to them but not like this. She's barely known you—talked to you for a total of three minutes...It wasn't possible. It wasn't going to be a thing. She'd probably never see you again. This campus was too big.

Kate had thought about you, and she wouldn’t lie and say that she didn’t try looking for you either. She’d take her time walking to classes throughout that day and to Carver Arena. She’d stop to get coffee and snacks she wasn’t going to finish. She just wanted to see you. You were the most prettiest girl she has ever seen. She tried to find you all the rest of the day. With no luck, and her taking her sweet time to get to practice, she didn’t see you.

When she left for a later class, right after practice, after practice had ended at six pm, she had finally seen you and Caitlin walking together. It was the most shocking yet, anxiety inducing thing she’s seen since she left you earlier that morning.

She was a ways behind you both, recognizing Caitlin first, still in her practice uniform. You were both heading the same way she was, so she just decided to stay behind instead of going to talk to Cait. She wasn’t going to go anywhere near you both, scared of being that close again and having to introduce herself. She’d be an absolute mess. It barely worked this morning, and she was not taking her chances.

It wasn’t until she saw you walking away, meeting up with this other girl, and saying goodbye to Caitlin, that she decided to catch Caitlin before she left. “Caitlin!” Her walk speeding up, looking in your direction making sure you didn’t hear her.

Caitlin looked behind her to see her frantic teammate running up to her. “Yes, Kate?” She smiled nervously, watching the blonde dart her eyes between you and her.

“Who is that?” Kate looked to you, blushing. Pointing subtly towards you to make sure Caitlin knew exactly who she was talking about. That’s when Caitlin smiled. “That’s my friend! She just transferred here. She’s playing soccer now.”

“What do you mean ‘she plays soccer now’? What did she play before?” Kate wanted to know everything about you. She already knew you were the prettiest girl she’s ever seen. But she wanted to know more.

“She played basketball too. Got a full ride to UC Berkeley with it.” Caitlin nodded her head, continuing on the path she was headed to. “We were on our way to our class, but her soccer teammate needed her for a minute so I said i’d meet her there.”

“Oh, okay. How do you know her? Has she always been that pretty? How many classes do you guys have together? Maybe I can ��walk” you to it?” Kate started to ramble any question that came to mind about you. All of which were about anything and everything besides your name.

“Oh, my god. Kate. Slow down. Why so many questions?” Caitlin laughed, already having a small idea as to what was happening. “Just ask her tomorrow.”

Kate’s throat went dry. What did she mean? “I’m sorry, what?” Kate choked out. Caitlin gave Kate a blank stare.

“I invited her to our pickup game tomorrow. Just talk to her then.” Kate was already so excited but dreading tomorrow.

She really really wanted to see you, but she started to think about how you’d see her play and she’d have to possibly guard you. This was a lot. Kate definitely did not let this go. She was starting to get too nervous. She was getting self conscious. She wanted to impress you.

Kate got up the next morning to a text from Caitlin asking to get there earlier than planned for a shoot around before the pickup game. The reason why was very vague but she decided to go early. Caitlin had asked her multiple other times to meet up and practice shots. That’s where Kate had developed better confidence in her far-range shots. Her three game improving significantly.

But the more Kate thought about it, she didn’t even get your name yesterday. Not even from Caitlin.

Her nerves were through the roof as she walked out the house and set on her way to Carver.

Her face grew hot and red, suddenly her relaxed and otherwise friendly demeanor turned shy and antsy as she got closer and closer to you both, standing on the court while she set her stuff down. That’s why she wanted her early…forgetting to mention the why.

“Hey, Cait.” Kate walked up to Caitlin, her eyes darting between you and her. She was so nervous. You were just so pretty and so close she just couldn’t take it.

“Hey! This is my friend, y/n.” Caitlin looked to Kate, and then to you. You shook Kate’s hand. Immediately recognizing the pretty girl who had helped you find your class yesterday.

You smiled. Yesterday after she walked you all the way to your class, before you had walked in you thanked her and watched her go on her way. She looked nervous but so did you. You walked up to the door but stopped to look behind you. What made it more awkward is you both caught eachothers eye at the same time.

Cait💕

“You find your class okay?”

“yeah! some really nice girl helped me find my class.”

“Oh, awesome! The people here are way nicer than the people from California huh?”

Caitlin and you had grown up together. Two girls who loved the game of basketball. You got a full ride to UC Berkeley. Iowa skipping over you for an offer but getting Caitlin. You honestly wouldn’t have had it any other way.

You got to experience life outside of Iowa. It was a fun experience. You loved California but still keeping in touch with back home. You would’ve stayed if your injury your sophomore season didn’t pull you out of the sport completely.

Tearing your meniscus, ACL, PCL, and MCL. You tore them over a span of a couple years. Your ACL and PCL being the first to go in your junior season of highschool. The MCL your freshman year of college. You had been halfway into your sophomore season at Berkeley when you tore your meniscus.

You were told you were able to recover and go back, but your coach didn’t like that you were getting injured and submitted an appeal to have your full ride taken. That’s when the dean advised you to find a different career outside of basketball. So, you entered the transfer portal, losing your full ride, and ended back up in Iowa for senior year. You had played soccer growing up as well with your brother. You kept up with it outside of basketball only small scrimmages, nothing too serious so you weren’t injured for basketball. But Iowa had a great soccer team and you missed home, so you decided to come back and come back to soccer.

“They’re way nicer for sure…and wayyy cuter😉”

“Ohhhhhh myyyyyyyyyy”

“you laughed at, ‘Ohhhhhh myyyyyyyyyy’ ”

You were excited to meet the friends Caitlin made here in Iowa City after you left. Wanted to meet the women she talked so highly of. So when she texted you last night asking if you wanted to shoot around before doing a pick up game, you immediately said yes. Something about wanted to introduce you to a friend, hence having to get there early.

“Oh, you walked me to my class yesterday!” You stuck your hand out and waited for Kate to shake it.

Kate had been staring at you. She didn’t mean it in a rude or freaky way. She just was in shock. There was no way you knew Caitlin. “Uh, yeah! I’m Kate. I don’t think we formally introduced ourselves yesterday.” Kate giggled.

Caitlin raised her eyebrows. There was no way Kate was the cute girl you mentioned to her yesterday. No way. And there’s no way you had Kate Martin giggling at a handshake. This elicited a random giggle and ‘no way’. You and Kate turned your heads and looked at her confused. It finally clicked to Caitlin.

“Oh! Nothing nothing. Just that—Oh! Look! My ball!” She walked away to the ball she left at half court, leaving you two to stand in awkward silence before opting to get started. You guys were going for about an hour before Caitling and Kate walked up to the small team Caitlin put together. You watched them two walk away, shaking your head before walking over to your team.

That’s when Kate turned to look back at you. Watching you immediately make friends with the girls in your team. Which happened to be her friends too. Kate turned back to the team, a huddle being held…Kate’s face grew even more rosy when she saw her best friend caught on to what was happening. Caitlin had been giving her the biggest smirk when they made eye contact. Was it really that obvious that she had a crush on you? Could she even call it that? She just met you formally seconds ago.

The shoot around is where you and Kate really got to know each other. Exchanging stories and experiences, her asking all kinds of questions of what it was like in California.

How you knew Caitlin, which she was shocked to find out that you grew up here. That you and Caitlin were neighbors. She learned more than what Caitlin had been willing to tell her. Something about “you’ll know soon enough,” or “i’ll let her decide.”

It didn’t help that she had to guard you during the whole game, even though her being absolutely smitten from the moment Caitlin told her your name wasn’t already awkward enough.

The small praises you gave her while playing went immediately to Kate’s head. A pretty girl like you complimenting her. She returned them back, feeling less scared of her antics when she saw how you reacted to them too. It was the most nervous and overall mindfucking pick up game she’s ever played in her life. And she grew up with playing with bigger and stronger boys. Hell, she’s made it to national championship games and this by far took the cake for the most absurd and anxious game.

But you, made her immediately nervous. And she knew you knew. The small smiles and giggles you gave her whenever you saw her reaction to your compliments and praises, your touches to her body when you would pivot around her while dribbling, your hands brushing her hips when trying to blow past her and cut to the basket.

Needless to say, you both knew the effect you had on eachother. Which is why it was the longest yet shortest game ever. Because when it ended, and you had work to do and practice to attend, so you started to say your goodbyes to everyone.

You said goodbye to the new girls you made friends with, getting their numbers and then pulling your oldest friend aside. “Please tell me that’s her.” Your face burning up from the exertion and the thought of the tall blonde you could feel was looking at you from behind Caitlin.

“Possibly.” Cait raised her brows, mischevious smile on her face.

“She’s possibly the cutest thing I have ever seen, Cait. Please tell me that’s her.” You glanced behind Caitlin again, catching those oh, so pretty blue eyes. You both looking away immediately, you both blushing.

“I’ll talk to you after your practice.” She hugged you and you started on your way to your practice. Looking back to catch one last longing look to Kate. It was definitely her.

She was already standing and talking to Caitlin, big smile on her face, hair now down. God, she looked good.

“Please invite her to more of these.” Kate pleaded with Caitlin. That immediately earned a loud chuckle from the brunette. This was so entertaining. Her best friends having the hots for eachother was the most interesting thing to happen to her.

“I will.” Caitlin patted her hand on her best friends chest, starting to walk away. “I fucking knew it.” She said while she was a good distance from Kate.

“What?” Kate asked, already wishing another pick up game would happen or that she’d run into you soon.

“Oh, nothing.” Caitlin walked away, knowing she had to do something to keep you guys interacting. This game of trying to get you both together was more fun than, dare she say, the final four tournament??

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ja3hwa · 1 year

Text

Day 23 : Creampie/Breeding - San

「Title」 : Not so Harmless

「Word count」 : 1.21k

-> Genre: Smut, Fluff, Fantasy au

Paring: Werewolf!San x Bunny Hybrid!Reader

[Warnings] : Mention of sex pollen. Dub-con (you know cause sex pollen and all). Swearing. Dirty talk. Unprotected sex (Don't do this) mention of knotting. Werewolf talk (knots, mate, presenting etc.). Oral (reader receiving). Multiple orgasms. Hair pulling. Lots of bodily fluids. Some clit play. Let me know if I missed anything.

Note : This is part two, of a fic I wrote a while back and decided it would fit this todays theme ♡ you can read part one -> [Here]

February Filth Fest Event Day Calendar

“The-The flower. It’s a lascivious toxin.” You practically moan out, leaning back so San’s body and the table trap you. You feel so hot, sweat beading down your forehead. He looks at your with confusion, feeling himself grow with worry and lust. He can smell you dripping, but he shakes the thought, trying to make sure you are okay first.

“W-what does that mean Sweets?” He asks, bringing his hand up to hold the back of your neck.

“Argh, It’s a toxin that makes you horny San!!” You look at him dead in the eyes, frustration taking over. “It makes you very…” You grind your hips against his. “Very…” You do it again. “Very horny…”

“Oh…” I mean at least you are not actually in pain, well the bad kind anyway.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” You panted feeling Sans's tongue lap at your dripping cunt, his fingers deep inside you. The pace was slow, maybe a bit too slow for your liking, but you were so sensitive you couldn’t help but want to come at the smallest of actions.

“You gonna cum again baby? You want to make a mess for me?” San smiled against you with a wolfy grin, picking up the pace with his thrusts just slightly, enough to tip you over the edge. Your grip on San's dark hair, loosens, finally feeling better. Maybe the toxin has finally left your system. San sat up, wiping his mouth while studying your figure. Concern mixed with lust. He wanted, needed to know you were okay. “How are you feeling baby.”

You sat up so you were crossed-legged in front of San while he sat on his knees. You were about to reply with a confident ‘I feel so much better’ but all of a sudden the sharp pain and heat bursts through your body again. How could this be? You had an orgasm, well more like four now, why aren't you feeling better? Tears began to form, as you feel an overwhelming sense of anxiousness and frustration.

“S-San I think. I think I need something more…” You felt strange asking your lover for sex. You didn’t want to make him feel like you were using him. San sat there for a moment thinking, and then a sudden thought came to mind. Something Yeosang had told him about heats and mating cycles. He said that no matter what you do the heat will only go away once the knot is performed. So maybe…

“That's it!” San chirped a little too loudly making you suddenly jump at his burst of energy.” I just need to knot you.” his words made you blush as if it was taboo for him to speak about knotting. It wasn’t like you haven’t don’t that with him yet, but him saying it so mundanely made your fluffy ears twitch.

“This isn’t a heat though… How will you cumming insi―” Your brain clicked, remember a word or was it a phrase, who knows, but your Herbology book said something about sex toxins needing another partner to cure, but you didn’t think it meant their seed. You pushed yourself up, further on the bed before turning around, sticking your ass up in the air and head into your pillow. “Breed me Sannie..”

Did San just die and go to heaven. His mate. His sweet little bunny, presenting for him while asking to be bred. Oh yeah, he is definitely in heaven. His cock twitched in his boxer, making the fabric get tighter around his thick length. His body was moving faster than his brain, crawling onto the bed so his hands could reach out for your hips. He pulls his boxers down so his cock can slide again your cheeks spreading his precum between them. Some of his slick gets on your cotton tail too, making you shiver. You push your hips into him, feeling the tip of his cock grazes your entrance. You needed him so badly. You felt like you were going to combust.

"Sannie, please. Please hurry, " you begged desperately, wiggling your hips more aggressively in order to try and get a bigger rise out of him.

"My sweet baby. All you needed was my knot to fill you, hmm?" His growl that erupted from his chest sounded animalistic, predatorial. "I'll give you just what you need."

His cock thrusts deep inside you in one motion, your slick being a great source of lubricant. You were already screaming, gripping the sheets in desperation. He didn't wait for you to adjust like he normally would. No, the snap of his hips was nothing but hard, fast, and deep. Hitting every spot you needed in order to make you see stars.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You chanted, tears running down your cheeks, soaking the pillow below you. His hand landed a harsh smack on your ass, making the soft flesh turn a nice shade of pink. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, burning from the inside out. You were going to explode any second, and when San's hand snaked down to your clit to apply pressure to your sensitive bud you knew you were done for. "SAN!!"

"I know baby. Come for me. Make a mess on my cock." His soft voice melted off his tongue, soothing you over the edge. Your vision started to become blurred, fearing to be blacked out entirely. San was now so close, sitting up straight he grabbed both sides of your hips in pound himself inside you at an inhuman pace. Sensitiveity surged through you as San chased his own high and after a few more thrusts he felt himself spill into you. His hips stutter until they completely stopped, his cock was still deep inside for a moment while you both collected yourselves. And to your happiness the pain that had consumed you was now finally gone.

“Oh Fuck…” San growled under his breath as he pulled out of you slowly. He watched his cum mixing with your own, staring at it while it started to spill out of you. It dripped down your thigh, making San’s cock twitch. You turn to look back and see San was already hard again.

“You got to be kidding me.” You panted with a light-hearted half-smile.

“I can’t help it. Not when I have such a beautiful view in front of me.” His fingers swiped up the slick from your thigh, pushing it back into your sensitive hole. You mewled at the feeling, trying to get away from him, but he just grabbed your hips in order to spin you around. Your legs on either side of him, being kept open by his thighs. His fingers keep pushing his cum back inside you, enjoying the way it looks when comes back out.

“S-San” You moaned rolling your hips, starting to feel hot and bothered again. he leaned over so he was caging you against the mattress, his nose nuzzling against your neck while his hand brushed over your long fluffy ears. His words make you shiver;

“Don’t worry baby. I’m not don’t with you just yet.”

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augustinapril · 10 months

Note

Heyyy Spence

So I saw that you wanted some batfam requests (especially platonic ones) so I was wondering if I could ask for a batfam (you pick whatever characters you want to be added) x bat!sibling reader who’s getting a special award but doesn’t tell anyone about it? Not bc they don’t think the family will care, they just think that the rest of them are busy and don’t want to bother them. They somehow find out though and are all there so surprise the reader?

If not- that’s totally fine too!!

Take care <333

Spider || Batfam

Paring: Batfam & gn!reader

Sypnosis: You're Brooklyns resident Spider, or The Insect, as Heaven likes to call you. It's a job you've taken with honor, and you're being thanked for it by the city. What you didn't expect was to see your family in the crowd.

Warnings: kind of a spiderman x dc crossover? r is basically the spiderman of DC, talks of heights, violence and terribly written fight scenes, reader is threatened by a villian, swearing, mentions of food, its poorly written I'm sorry!!

wc: 3.2k || nav || m.list

a/n: shout out to @lu-vin-it for being a character in this fic! he also happens to write so you should definitely go check out their stuff (that's a threat not a request). thank you @lemkay-luminary for proofreading!! <3 reblogs > likes!!

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Gotham City was constantly buzzing with life, along with death. It was a violent city, full of murderers, thieves, robbers, and villians drowning in a thirst for blood. More times than you could count, the city has stolen the life of people you've cared for.

It held too many bad memories for you to stay. You loved the city, and it would always be your home, but you had a new home in Brooklyn, too.

Brooklyn gave you a breath of fresh air, here you could see the sun most days. It was calming, the warmth of it a comfort. You love it here and the people here love you in return.

"Spider!" A little girl from down below shouted, strawberry ice cream smeared across her face as she pointed up at you. "It's Spider!"

Her father gave her a light lecture on how it was rude to point when you attached yourself to the side of a building, offering the little girl a wave. She waved back, squealing in excitement at the fact that the Spider was waving at her.

"Y/n, you know those guys we've been tracking for God knows how long?" Heaven's voice spoke through the comms, startling you.

"I don't, actually, I think they've managed to slip my mind." You retorted sarcastically as you jumped off and swung your way to a nearby rooftop.

"You were bitten by an insect, I can treat you like an insect."

"Spiders aren't insects, they're—"

There was an annoyed huff that cut you off, it made you snicker. "Fuck you. I should make you do all this by yourself, but I don't. Be grateful. Anyways, so I've gotten a location on them, Visage is most definitely there."

"Where?" You asked quickly. Visage has been tormenting the city for a while now.

"Near Plymouth Church. They've been spotted in some run down building near it."

"Thank you." You responded and the comms cut out.

That's when you jumped, arms behind you, the breeze pushed against your suit. It was exhilarating to fly through the air, being so high above everything else.

Helping people in the way you do, swinging through the city and hearing people like that little girl call out to you was worth every risk the job came with. You'd put yourself on the line every time because you're here to protect them.

Which brought you here, on top of some building across from an abandoned grocery store. Your eyes were glued to the doors, as you watched and waited for something to happen.

A man walked out, wearing protective green gear. It was Visage, you knew it was. There was no mistaking him and his rather ugly suit.

"Visage, my man, what's up?" You jumped over to the power line nearby, standing on top of the wooden pole. His head snapped up to you, and the second it did, you webbed him. Jumping up you yanked him up with you. You grabbed ahold of his head and slammed it onto the pole. There was a crack in his helmet, him falling to the ground and letting out a pained groan.

"Fuck," You heard him hiss under his breath, struggling to pull himself off the ground. You didn't give him much of a chance before you leapt down in front of him, landing before swiping him off his feet.

"I'm gonna kill you," He raised his gauntleted hand and he fired at you from his spot on the ground.

It was one of his weird creations, Vistech as he liked to call it. It made you realize that villians are extremely uncreative when it comes to naming things.

"'I'm gonna kill you' blah blah blah, I've heard it all before. Your words mean nothing." You retorted, moving out of the way of whatever it was he shot at you. He had a nasty habit of creating new concoctions and testing them on you.

You were sure you probably seemed cocky, and the way he tensed made it evident he wasn't very appreciative of your attitude. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

After that he charged at you, gear adding power to his steps. Your senses spiked, making you leap out of his way. His gauntlet grabbed hold of your arm, as he throwed you towards a nearby wall.

The impact knocked the wind out of your lungs, falling to the ground with a wheeze. You could hear his heavy boots hit the ground with each step he took towards you. You pushed yourself off the ground, then you lifted your hand and shot webbing at his face. His cries were muffled by the substance, his hand scratched to try and get the webs off.

You fully pushed yourself off of the ground, wincing in pain. Much to your dismay, the second you were on your feet Visage had pulled off the webs. He ran towards you again and you were lucky to move out of the way on time.

You put your hand behind his head and slammed it full force into the wall, knocking him unconscious. You crouched down, inspecting Visage's guantlet, lifting the heavy metal. It was warm to the touch, most likely because of the weird substance in them.

You looked them over, searching for a way to remove them . It was more sophisticated than you originally thought, but you found it eventually.

You knew Visage wasn't the highest of rank in whatever business he worked for, but he was high enough on there for you to get some information on the entire organization.

You tied him up with your webbing, and when you heard police sirens you leapt up to the rooftop of the nearest building, Visage's guantlet in hand.

***

The fight had been all over the news.

Some people praised you for your efforts whilst others said you were nothing but a menace, but the mayor, much to your surprise, was extremely pleased with your work.

She made an announcement on television about wanting to thank you personally for everything you've done for Brooklyn.

Which led you here, stood near the entrance of the building the mayor did most of her work in. She looked elegant, black pencil skirt hugging her legs and waist, a matching jacket on top of a white dress shirt. She was so put together it made you nervous.

You didn't look put together. Not that you really could in your spidersuit but you still felt self-conscious.

Yet she offered you a warm smile, holding her hand out towards you. "Spider! It's nice to meet you in person."

You smiled back, though she couldn't see it from underneath your mask. "It's nice to meet you too, Madame Mayor." Her hand was warm against the fabric of your suit.

"So you and I will just walk out that door," She began, pointing over towards the door. "And I'll greet the crowd, give a speech, and then I'll shake your hand once more. I'll warn you now, there will be a lot of people."

It was strange how you could fight dangerous people and yet the mention of a crowd made your heart rate pick up.

You nodded, and she smiled again. Her heels clicked loudly against the white flooring of the office building, your steps quieter than hers. You made sure to wear your converse here. There had been many times you forgot to slip on your shoes before heading out of your bedroom window, your mind racing to find reported criminals.

The doors opened, sunlight shined through as you exited the brick building. There was an abundance of people in the crowd, the snapping of pictures and shouts of Spider filled the atmosphere. There were news reporters that surrounded the barricades of the stairs, keeping the rambunctious crowd from getting too close.

"Hello people of Brooklyn!" The Mayor waved, sun reflecting off of her white painted nails. The way she handled the crowd made you envious and it took everything in you not to teeter on your feet to calm the nerves.

The crowd gave a series of shouts and greetings in reply, making the mayor laugh. She was good at this, but you suppose she had to be. That's when she introduced you, another wave of excited noise spilled from the ocean of people across from you.

"Hello." You replied as you waved and cringed at how awkward you probably sounded. Another group of greetings sounded around you.

People could be loud when they wanted to be, and that amplified in groups. You eyed them, and noticed the little girl from a few days ago again. She rested on top of her father's shoulders—her face was ice-creamless now—and her abundance of red waves was put into braids with ribbons tied at the end.

She made you smile from under your mask, as the beginning of the mayor's speech slipped past your ears. You moved your gaze from her, your eyes looked over the people and that's when you saw them. Your family in the very back.

Dick looked silly. The entirety of his outfit was just Spider merchandise and you were sure he seemed like an obnoxious fan to the rest of the crowd. Jason stood away from him, probably upset that he had to stand so close to Dick when he looked like that. He blended in more with the crowd, he wore simple attire that any normal person would wear in public. Not that he was normal, he just didn't like to stand out in such a way.

Your father wore a suit. A very pristine suit, as usual, no one except reporters ever wore something so proper to an event like this.

Steph had the biggest smile ever on her face, hair pulled back by a purple headband, dressed simply in a long skirt and a purple cardigan to cover it. Tim stood next to her, adorned in a sweater Bernard had given him and a pair of shorts. The both of them were on the opposite side of the crowd. Cass was not too far away.

She had never enjoyed crowds, or people in general. You wouldn't have noticed her if not for your enhanced senses. She leaned against Bruce's car, the entirety of her black attire blended in with the car's paint. Damian was beside her, arms crossed. The warm weather had him in a simple pair of brown cargo shirts, his green t-shirt blended nicely with them.

Damian probably didn't want to come. Not that he didn't love you or anything, no he often talked about how you were the most tolerable out of the rest of his family, he just never saw the point in coming to something he could very easily watch on TV. You were going to make sure to thank him later.

You returned your attention back to the mayor. As she was nearing the end of her speech she turned to you. "—And I'd like to thank each and every one of you for coming here today. The Spider has done so much for our city this last year, and it seemed rude to not provide our hero a proper thank you."

Her hand reached toward you once again, but before she could grasp your hand an intense feeling of danger hit you. Your head snapped up, turning over and noticing a man—one of Visage's men it seemed from the apparel he wore—directing one of the special guns directly at the mayor. You shielded her quickly, pulling her away just as he pulled the trigger.

The crowd screamed at the sound, erupting in panic. You should've known this would have happened. Nothing is ever so easy.

"Are you okay?" You asked the mayor, and she nodded, mumbling a thank you. You once her over just to make sure before jumping back into the crowd. It was almost as if the man multiplied in your short time of making sure the mayor was okay.

"Can't you guys take days off or something?" You asked, annoyed when you webbed one of the weapons, yanking it out of his hands and sticking it up against the wall of a building. "Seriously, you guys are everywhere. I think you might need to bring this up with your boss."

One of them charged at you, which you swiftly moved out of the way but kept your foot in place, snickering when she tripped on the ground.

You jumped, legs pushing you high enough to land on the top of a street lamp. You'd yanked one of the men up with you, slamming his head into the light before webbing him to it, leaving him dangling when you jumped down.

"Do you ever shut up?" A woman shouted, irritated with you. She lunged at you, but hit the wall—hard enough as to where you could hear a loud groan.

"Only if you say please."

There was only one person left, he radiated irritation. It was easy to piss these people off. If it were a sport you'd have 1st place medals galore.

"And then there were two." You joked, watching as he pulled out a similar weapon to the first guys.

"Shut your fucking mouth!"

You scoffed, preparing yourself to attack him before you answered. "Do you people have no manners?"

It was a swift motion, webbing the weapon so he couldn't fire. He tried to rip off the webs before you got him in the face. His sounds of confusion were muffled, and you took this time to kick the legs out from under him, sticking his hand together

Within minutes, you'd gotten all of them tied up. It was a swift battle—if you could even consider it one—and now you made your way back to the Mayor.

With a quick once over, you knew she was okay. Shaken up, but overall physically okay. You still asked to be sure. "Are you okay?"

She looked at you, offering a smile. "Yes, I'm okay thanks to you. Thank you again, Spider. For everything. I don't know where Brooklyn would be without you."

You couldn’t think of a response. Talking to people was hard, but talking to the Mayor was harder. Especially when she said something like that. “It’s no problem.” You said, though you questioned if it sounded awkward.

After assisting to make sure everyone was okay. You felt a small tug at the stretchy fabric of your suit. Your head drifting in the direction of the source, your heart warmed. It was the little girl from before. “Spider!”

You grinned underneath your mask, crouching down to see eye-to-eye with her, taking notice of the adorable crochet beanie in her head. “Hello. I really like your hat!”

She giggled, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen crossing her features. “It has you on it!”

"It does! Did someone make it for you?"

Her waves bounced around her head when she nodded, grabbing ahold of her father's hand and shaking it around. "My daddy made it for me! Isn't that right, daddy?"

He gave a proud grin, though it wasn't as bright as it would be if he didn't look so exhausted. "Yeah, that's right, sweetheart. I did make it."

"You should convince him to make me one," You joked, looking up at her father. "It's an awesome hat. I'm honored to have such a hat with me on it."

"She wouldn't stop pestering me until I finished," He replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. "She asked me everyday if her hat was done. She loves you."

You warmed and looked back at the child. "And her love will always be appreciated."

After a rather hard goodbye, he led her back towards their small car. It took a few hours, but eventually you were able to make your way back home for a quick meal. You had some spare time before you decided you were going to force yourself back out into the city, hoping to finally give yourself a chance to relax.

Though it seemed your plans had been foiled, the smell of Mac & Cheese filled your apartment, and the slight chatter of familiar voices bouncing off of the fake wooden walls.

"Alfred?" Your eyebrows rose when you saw the man that was basically your second father standing in front of your stove, a pot in front of him as he stirred a wooden spoon through the creamy noodles. "You're making Mac & Cheese?"

Alfred never enjoyed making Mac & Cheese like this, far more into homemade foods rather than the cheap store-bought boxes. He enjoyed putting care into his cooking, and boxed Mac & Cheese took that away. In his eyes, at least.

You set your stuff down, listening to Alfreds words even though he didn't look at you. "I would have made something else, but it seems this was all you had in your cupboard, L/n."

"Fair." You shrugged before you heard someone clearing his throat.

"No hello to your father?"

You looked at him and smiled. "Hello Father."

Jason snickered, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You sound like Damian." His feet on your table made you send him a light glare.

"Better him than you, Jay. And get your nasty ass feet off my table." You shoved his feet off of the fake wood, as you ignored the glare he sent you when you walked by, and ruffled Damian's hair. "How's the favorite brother?"

He huffed in annoyance and shoved your hand away, an incoherent grumble being your only response.

"Y/n!" Steph interrupted, a blur of purple passing your vision as he gave you a swift hug, arms wrapping tightly around you. "We missed you!"

"I missed you guys too." You grinned, brushing a few strands of blonde hair that fell out of her headband behind her ear after she pulled away. "Where's Cass and Dick?"

As if on queue, Dick walked through the door, his hand in the air as he answered. "We're here!" He had a flare for the dramatics, his high-school yearbooks and his years of theater could prove it.

Cass' entrance was far more tame, as she carefully walked through as to not drop the big yellow box in her hands,closing the door with her foot. "We brought cake."

"Cake?" You weren't expecting cake, and especially not store bought cake. Alfred would be quivering in his boots if he didn't have to hide his irritation.

"You didn't tell us about the Mayor." Damian interrupted, his arms crossed. Irritation was written all over his face—which seemed to mask his slight pain about the topic—and you were hit with a sudden pang of guilt.

"Sorry, Dami." You began, as you gave an apologetic smile. You looked at all of them, trying to explain yourself. "You guys are all so busy, I didn't wanna pull you away from your work."

The explanation seemed silly now that you said it out loud. It was a stupid reason, your family cared about you a lot and it probably seemed like a kick in the face. You continued, words spilling out of your mouth in an anxiety consumed guilt.

"It's not that I thought you guys wouldn't care or anything I just— I don't know, I didn't wanna pull you guys away from something more important."

"No work could ever come above you," Bruce spoke quickly, taking your hand within his. He squeezed it, as if it were to make his words stronger with meaning.

And in a way it did, it reminded you that your family may be busy, but you all would always put each other first.

˗ˏˋ ★ ´ˎ˗

sorry this was all over the place!! constructive criticism is always welcome!! please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it!!

#batman x you #batman x y/n #batman x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #batfam imagine #batman imagine #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #stephanie brown x reader #cassandra cain x reader #damian wayne x reader #tim drake x reader #batfam fanfic

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shelbgrey · 11 months

Note

Hi could I request a fic with the avengers where the readers mom is very close with the avengers and she had the reader at 15 with the readers father who has been on and off absent and the reader doesn't see much of him and she was basically raised by the avengers theyre basically parental figures to her and have always been there for her when her dad finally shows up they threatened him because they're all overprotective mostly tony cause he sees the reader like his own daughter and he knows what it's like to grow up without a dad and the reader thanks him and hugs him and the rest of the avengers join in a group hug always reassuring her she isn't a mistake.

Six avengers and a Baby

Paring: avengers x Teen!Reader

A/n: sorry this is so late, I had zero idea of where I was gonna take this so I hope you don't mind is being HC and sorry it's so short.

A/n #2: request are closed so I can work on a twilight series I've started.

So your mother is close to the averagers due to the fact she went to college with pepper, they were best friends and she got your mom a job at the Compound so she could take care of you.

Due to her being a single mom she always took you to work with her. She had you at a very young age and your father was never around.

It didn't really matter to you because the avenger grew a soft spot for you and helped your mom Raise you.

I your opinion you learned way more for them than you do in school. They all care for you a lot and are extremely over protective.

Some small details about you and them are:

You and tony are the closest, he's always been like a father to you and has always got your back.

You and Bruce are about the same, you call him uncle Bruce and he's your go to dude when you need help with homework.

Steve is like a big brother. He's tougut you many things like how to treat people and helped you become the kind soul you are today.

Clint teaches you normal day-to-day things. You want to learn how to use a bow/arrow he'll teach you. He also has thought you how to change the oil and a tire on a car just incase you get stranded.

With Natasha you two had to warm up to each other. She loves you and all, but when you were little you were scared of her for no particular reason.

Thor is just your Best Friend, he always makes you laugh and knows how to brighten up your day. One time he lifted his Hammer with you so you would think you could do it when the others can't(you were five at the time)

Your scared of loki. Period.

But then one day your dad showed up and the avengers or your mom wasn't pleased.

“y/n is my daughter, my own”

“then where the hell were you when she got her tonsels taken out and was absolutely miserable for three days?” Bruce shouted.

“where were you when she started kindergarten or high school?” nat stated.

“you don't have the right to call yourself her father!” Tony shouted. “she's my kid”

When Your father left you immediately hugged Tony. He held you tight and wasn't planning to let go for a while. “your not a mistake.... Your a fucking mericle”

When the whole time came around and hugged you too you know you were home and this was your family.

#Avengers x reader #avengers headcanons #Avengers imagines #Steve Rogers x reader #Clint barton x reader #Natasha romanoff x reader #Bruce banner x reader #Tony stark x reader #Thor x reader #Mcu #Marvel x reader #Marvel imagines

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cherrycola27 · 2 years

Text

Green- Eyed Rooster

Paring: Rooster x Y/N "Cherry" Bradshaw

Warnings: Language, drinking, dick jokes, mentions of adult items. Smut, jealousy kink, semi-public sex, brat kink, brat tamer, authority kink, orgasm denial, porn with plot. Minors DNI, 18+n, seriously SMUT

Author's Note: Yall I have to say this might be the best fic I have ever posted on Tumblr, and if if doesn't blow up and blow your minds I swear I might just stop writing. God I love it so much and I hope everyone else does as well!

"How did I end up in this situation?" You thought. Tonight was supposed to fun, a celebration. You and your friends were supposed to be out celebrating Phoenix who in a few days would become Mrs. Hangman as you all liked to joke. Most people would think a joint Bachelor/ Bachelorette party at your favorite bar was a crazy idea, but to the Dagger fam, it was the only way.

So, why weren't you inside doing shots with the rest of your friends? Why instead of singing karaoke where you gasping for breath with your skirt bunched up around your hips? Why were you being pressed against the outside rear wall of the Hard Deck instead of leaned up against a pool table? Why instead of a beer bottle pressed to your lips, you found yourself with your tongue in your husband's mouth?

The answer? Something you liked to call "Green-Eyed Rooster"

Let's stop and take a moment to recall the events that lead you to this exact position. Events that started ages before even you and Rooster were married, back in the days when your relationship was just beginning, yes, let's start there.

Six years ago, you became an elite Top Gun Graduate, and not just any Graduate, the top of your class. Lt. Y/N "Cherry" Anderson the plaque read as it was handed to you, your face beaming with pride. Just to your right was your wingman, and second in class Lt. Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.

You smiled at him as he caught your eye while people were congratulating you on your top finish. After the ceremony you saw him weave through the crowd and stop to talk to another Navy man, your eyes widen when you saw it was the legendary Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

You had hoped to speak to Rooster after, you see during the 13 week program you may or may not have developed some feelings for the mustached man, and now that it was finally over you wanted to ask him on a date, however, you also didn't want to be rude and disturb his conversation with the man you would later find our was his Godfather.

You turned on your heels only to be met with a wall of man. "Cherry, baby, congratulations." Lt. Kyle "Flash" Malcolm said in his thick New Jersey accent.

"Thanks Flash." You replied quickly trying to get away from him. You didn't like the way he was looking at you. Flash was one of those guys, who despite the very strict no fraternization rule in place at Top Gun, would not stop hitting on you. And every time he did you reminded him of it.

"Listen Cher, now that we have graduated the rule doesn't apply to us anymore, so what'd'ya say youse and me get outta here huh? Let me take you on that date now?" He asked with a wink.

You internally rolled your eyes. You knew you couldn't give him the same excuse that had worked the past three months and he knew that too. Little did both of you know that a certain sandy haired man had been watching, waiting for the right moment to ask his wingman out, and he was not happy that jerk from Jersey was trying to weasel his way in.

Rooster quickly excused himself from Maverick and cleared the distance between the two of you in three strides. You gasped when you felt his arm slide comfortably around your waste. You looked up at him with a questioning glance. He looked back down and shot you a wink.

"Sorry Flash, Cherry and I have plans this evening. Now that we have graduated, wanted to take my wingman out for some drinks and a proper date. Spent three months waiting to ask her, because rules, and I don't plan on waiting any longer." Rooster stated before whisking you away to join him and Maverick.

"Thank you for that Roos, you would think after me telling him no several times he would take the hint. Once he is gone, I will leave you and Captain Mitchell to your plans." You replied

"Cherry, I believe I said I was going to take you on a proper date, and I plan to do just that. I meant it, I've been waiting patiently and I am done. I wasn't just trying to help you get out of an awkward situation, I want everyone in this whole damn class to know you're mine." He whispered in your ear before Maverick found you two.

You silently gulped. Little did you know, this would be the first time you got a taste of Roosters jealous streak, and when that man saw green, especially when it came to his girl, heaven help the person who tried to stand in his way.

The second time you saw the green eyed monster appear on Roosters shoulders was about six months into your relationship. You two had some how both been stationed on the East Coast, your first placement after graduation. You both had the afternoon off and decided to head to a local bar with some of the fellow pilots that had been stationed there.

You were thankful that you had made friends with another woman aviator Natasha "Phoenix" Trace. She had gone through Top Gun the year before you and she was amazed that you had graduated top of your class. She talked about how some asshole who was a Ken Doll come to life named Hangman, who she joked should be called Bagman, was the top of hers.

You, Phoenix, and Rooster were enjoying the night with some other pilots and having a good time. You had decided to grab another round. While waiting at the bar some drunk tried hitting on you. You knew how to handle drunk men, and Rooster also knew you could hold your ground. He was never one to try and fight your battles, but he always watched just incase someone tried something stupid, which is exactly what that man did.

After several attempts to get you to join him, and many a firm "No" on your part, the drunk patron grabbed your bicep and tried to physically pull you away from the bar.

You didn't have to look behind you to know that Rooster was about to hand this man his ass on a silver platter. Instead of fighting him you simply looked at him and said "Oh buddy, you just made a big mistake, a really big mistake, huge!" You laughed.

"What the fuck do you just say to me?" The man slurred before a strong set of hands spun the man around and lifted him by his collar. Startled, he let got of your arm.

"I believe my girl said you made a big mistake by putting your hands on her. So you have two choices here buddy" Rooster sneered at the man. "You either apologize to her, close your tab and leave of your own free will, or I break your nose and toss you out of here. Your choice."

The man looked between you and Rooster. "M...my... my apologies ma'am." He stammered out before throwing some money on the bar and quiet literally running away.

"Roos, you didn't have to do that." You told him as he gave you the once over.

"Whose name is around your neck baby?" He asked gesturing to the rose gold necklace he had given you for your six month anniversary.

"Yours." You sighed. "Exactly Cherry. My name. You are mine, and I always protect what's mine. Let's get out of here." He stated firmly before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the bar.

That night he reminded you seven times that you did infact belong to him, and honestly there's no other way you would have it.

As your relationship progressed, Rooster's jealous side seemed to die down until one of his buddies *cough cough* Hangman decided to rile him up about you during training for a top secret Uranium Plant mission you had both been recalled to fly. During a class Hangman made the comment asking if Rooster "had popped his Cherry" while winking at you or if he needed to show him how it was done. If it hadn't have been for you, Bob, Phoenix, and Maverick holding him back, Hangman would have been a dead man.

But now, thankfully Hangman and Rooster were on much better terms. After the mission you and Roostet tied the knot with the Daggers and a few others present and the cherry popping jokes were much more light hearted. A few months after the two of you got married Jake and Tasha decided that maybe all the hate they had for each other was something more, turns out it was. And now a year later, the two were about to get married themselves, which brings us to present day, about three hours before you found yourself being felt up behind the Hard Deck.

"Another round of shots ladies!" You cheer placing the tray of glasses down on the table. You, Phoenix and her other bridesmaids all grab a glass. "To the bride, who has to be one bad bitch for deciding that she is going to put up with Hangman for the rest of her life!" You toast. "And to Cherry! The best fucking friend and Marton of Honor a girl could ask for!" Tasha adds before you all click glasses and down the round.

"I really can't believe you're getting married next weekend!" You squeeze Phoenix's hand before pouring more champagne for her and the girls. You look across the bar to find Jake and the other Dagger boys drinking and playing pool. Rooster looks up ands shoots you a wink, you wave back before resuming your groups festivities.

"Oh Halo, before I forget, pass me that bag!" You squeal as she passes it to you. The other girls giggle knowing what it is.

"Cherry Bradshaw I swear if this is a dildo I will cut your fuel lines." Phoenix states before opening the bag.

"It's not I promise" you grin as she opens it.

Phoenix reaches in the bag and pulls out a navy blue shirt that reads "Mrs. Hangman" on the front. "Haha very funny guys." Tasha says. "Look at the back Tash." You state taking another sip of bubbly.

She shoots you a warning glance before turning the shirt around. "CHERRY!" She screeches when she reads the back which says "Same PhoeDICK forever"

"You had it coming girl! Remember all those 'cherry popping jokes' you and Bagman made not too long ago, or the sash you made me wear about 'Marrying a Rooster, same COCK til I die'? Hmm ma'am?" You and the other girls laugh. "Shouldn't have dished it out if you couldn't take it." You joke leaning back into the booth.

"Okay fine, I guess I deserved that one." Phoenix replies stuffing the shirt back into the bag.

"Hangman's is worse." You quip just as the cheers erupted from the other side of the bar and Rooster gives you a thumbs up.

"Great." Phoenix rolls her eyes as she notices her fiancée turn a deep red shade.

"Uh oh," Phoenix's cousin Melissa states holding up the empty champagne bottle. "All out of bubbly" She giggles. All of you were definitely tipsy. Several rounds of shots had been sent your way by some desperate men hoping to land a single bridesmaid and the seven of you had gone through three bottles of bubbly. Thankfully no one had to worry about a ride home because Bob, who never drank, and Maverick who was like a father figure to you all may have borrow (read stolen) a couple of Navy vans to transport you at the end of the night safely.

"This looks like a Matron of Honor job!" You declared taking the empty bottle from Melissa and heading up to the bar to ask Penny for a new one.

While the two Dagger parties were going on, Penny still had customers to take care of so you waited. While standing there and younger man in service khakis walked up to you.

"Oh great you" thought. Maybe he would just be nice and make small talk you hoped. You shot a glance over to the pool tables, thankfully your husband was locked in a game and not looking your way. You definitely didn't want "Green Eye Rooster" to make an appearance tonight.

"Hey there honey." The Navy man asked you.

"Hi." You responded quickly, not wanting to give him any footing to continue this conversation.

"Noticed you and your friends over there celebrating your girl who is getting married... how about you let me buy yalls next round?" He said stepping closer to you.

"Oh you don't have to do that." You respond waving him off. "Well, how bought I just buy your next one?" He asks getting much closer to you than you are comfortable. Ugh... why did he have to do this. Poor kid was just asking for Rooster to whip his ass.

"No thanks. I am married, happily married." You state showing him your wedding rings, praying he will leave you alone.

"Set of rings never stopped me before. Plus honey I could make it worth your while. See here, I'm a Naval aviator. In the Top Gun program here, makes me the best of the best. I could take you for a ride if you want?" The pilot asked, his voice dripping in sex.

"Wow, Top Gun, you must think you are really special then huh?" You begin sarcasticly. "Well Lieutenant, I will have you know I graduated top of my clas at Top Gun, beat my husband actually, so you being in the program doesn't impress me." You tell him heat rising in your body.

"Well guess we could always try to see who the better pilot is." He winked. Jesus what is with this guy?

"Look, I'm going to tell you this one more time... I am not interested. I know there are plenty of young civilian girls who are just dying for you to waltz them into a stupor with your Navy charm, cocky grin and big ego that is just enough to scratch the daddy issues that they have. But I, on the other hand am HAPPILY MARRIED, and my husband is not afraid to kick your ass." You finish with a huff.

"Well sweetie all I'm saying is I don't see your 'husband' around here." The man challenges.

"Turn around then." Roosters voice comes from low in his chest as the pilot turns around.

"Now you see him." Rooster almost growls as he stares the man down.

"Captain Bradshaw." You hear the pilot whisper as he is face to face with Rooster. All the bravado and ego is now long gone.

"I'm sorry, I, I had no idea she was your wife..." he stutters. You look at your husband and see the fire in his eyes, jealousy blooms through his body.

"You should be sorry." Rooster states as he clenches his fists. "I should break your face, and kick you out of the program." He tells him. "Rooster." You warn him. "He's not worth it. Not tonight." You tell him.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood here with my friends. But I swear to God Lieutenant, if you ever so much at look at my WIFE again, you'll be sorry. Now leave." Rooster says through gritted teeth.

The pilot quickly gathers his things, pays his tab and leaves.

You grab Roosters hands which are still balled up. "Babe, calm down, this is supposed to be a fun night. Take a breath." You tell him.

You can still see the rage just behind his eyes. He had gotten himself worked up and you know exactly how it ends.

"I'm not leaving." You state before the words can even leave his mouth. "I wasn't planning on leaving either babe." He tells you with an ere of calm in his voice.

He's calm, too calm as a wicked glem flashes across his eyes.

"Oh no mister." You state crossing your arms.

"I'm going to get some air out back. I expect you to join me in five." He whispers in your ear before pushing through the crowd.

"Well fuck" you think. Once again the green eyed monster had possessed your husband, and the only way to get him over it, was to fuck it out of him.

You looked down at your phone. You know he said five minutes, but the wetness between your thighs told you that you couldn't wait that long.

You quickly checked to make sure no one was looking and had one of the waitresses working that night take the bottle over to your table. All the ladies were drunk enough, you hoped they wouldn't think much of your absence.

You quietly slipped outside once you had determined no one was paying attention. Outside in the dimly lit alley, you called out for your husband.

"Rooster? Babe where are you." He didn't answer, he didn't have to. You felt his presence behind you moments later. The warmth radiating off his body, the spicy-sweet smell of his colonge flooding your nose, the scrape of his mustache against your ear as he growled "I thought I told you to wait five minutes before coming out here. It's only be three."

"My apologies.... Captain. I didn't want yo keep you waiting." Ugh... there you had gone and used his rank. You knew exactly how much that drove him crazy, how much it pushed his buttons, how much it turned him on.

You weren't necessarily trying to be a brat, but when Bradley was wound tight like this, you couldn't help it. And your bratty attitude is exactly how you found yourself in your current situation.

"Someone's being a brat tonight." He grumbled giving your ass a harsh spank which caused you to yelp.

You turned around to face him. "If anyone is being a brat tonight, it's you Bradley. Got yourself all worked up, can't even wait until we get home to have me." You state as you brush your hand over the growing bulge in his jeans.

Oh, you were so fucked now. Not only had you called him out, you had used his government name. You knew that was going to cause some wires to short circuit in his brain, but you loved it. You loved this little game you two played. Maybe you were a brat... good thing Rooster was an expert tamer.

Before you could blink he curled his fingers under the necklace that bared his name around your throat and pulled you into him. He roughly pressed his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue in, not waiting for permission.

His larger framed pinned you against the outside wall. He pulled away for a moment. In the light you could just make out how pupils were blown with lust and the slight flush across him.

"Oh honey." He spoke almost sweetly. "I think someone forgot who they belong to and needs a reminder. I think maybe this while damn bar might need one." He stated still holding you in place by your jewelry.

You flashed him a wicked smile before saying "Well go on then, remind me."

You saw the corners of your husband's mouth twitch up into a smile before he sealed his lips over yours once again. He hoisted you up by your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist. God you loved it when he man handled you.

He pressed you further into the wall and you felt his rock hard length against your aching core.

"Someone's eager." You whispered in his ear as he pulled his mouth away from yours and assaulted your neck with kisses. You felt his lips attach to the sensitive spot right behind your ear as he sucked a mark into.

"Roos," you let out a breathy complaint. "If I go back in there all marked up, everyone will know what we did while we were gone."

His lips left your skin and ghosted next to your ear "Exactly" he moaned out before kissing you again. One of his large hands left its place on your waist and slipped under your skirt. You felt the breath leave your lungs when he trailed his fingers over soaked material of your panties.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who is eager." He laughed.

"What can I say? Jealous Rooster is hot as fuck. It does things to me." You reply.

"Then why don't you show me exactly how hot you think it is then princess?" He stated setting you down.

You hold eye contact with him not giving in to what he wants. "And what exactly did you have in mind sir?" You challenged cocking your head to the side. You knew exactly what he wanted, but there was no way you were going to make it easy.

"Get on your knees." He commanded. You slowly sank down, thankful that your skirt was long enough to cover your kneecaps from the concrete.

You looked back up at him with big doe eyes ad he waited for you to take him in your mouth.

"Well... I did what you asked. Now what?" You teased. God you were such a brat right now.

Rooster growled and hooked his finger under your chin pulling you back to your feet as he pinned you yet again. You laughed despite it all.

"You think this is funny? You think being a fucking brat is something to laugh at? Maybe I should just fuck that laugh right out of you. Take you so hard you cry and mess up your pretty make up? It that what you want?" He asks darkly.

You look back at him. You can see on his face that the last ounce of resolve he has is quickly slipping away. One more tiny act of defiance and he would release all that jealous, green eyed monster filled rage out on you and turn it into some of the best sex you had ever had. All you had to do was push.

"If you wanted to fuck the brat out of me you would have done it by now."

You could have sworn you heard something snap inside him. Before you could push any further both of your hands were pinned above your head, trapped in his strong grip. His hands and yanked your panties down your legs and somehow he had managed to get them all the way off of you and he stuff them in his back pocket.

He wasted no time plunging two fingers deep into your core. A moan left your lips as you felt him curl the thick digits inside you and stroke that spongy area that would have tou seeing starts in a matter of minutes.

"Oh fuck." You moan out as he plunged them in and out of your wetness. It should be embarrassing how wet and worked up you already were, but Rooster knew exactly how to get your motor going.

He pushed further into you past his knuckles. You could feel the cool metal of metal of his wedding band against your burning skin.

"Oh, yes, yes baby just like that." You moaned as he scissored your walls. You legs quaked around his hips. If he hadn't had you pinned against the wall you surely would have melted to the ground.

You could feel your desire pooling deep in the pit of your stomach. Your cunt clenched around his fingers trying to pull them deeper into you with each of this thrusts. His thumb found your clit and he began to draw harsh circles on it.

"Fuck yes, yes, yes Rooster, thats it daddy, feels so fucking good" you moaned. He hummed back in response. His body was invading your space as he finger fucked you. All you could do, see, think, smell, feel was him.

"Roos, so close, please, please" you begged as the pleasure builded. Just a few more pumps of his hand, a deeper curl of his fingers, some more harsh strokes of your clit and you would be a cumming shaking mess.

But then, just as you were about to reach the precipice of your pleasure, the mother fucker stopped.

"Ahhh" you cried out at the sudden loss of contact. You quickly tried to grind yourself down on his hand but he pulled it away.

"Ah, ah, ah" He tutted. "Brats don't get to cum on my fingers. But if you can be a good girl, maybe I will let you cum on my cock." He tipped your face up to look at him.

God what a sight you were. Your hair had fallen from its high ponytail and strands of it fluttered around you face. Your favorite red lipstick was smeared across your swollen lips. Your cheeks were flushed with desire and your eyes were glassed over and hazy with pleasure. Seeing you like this did wonders for Rooster's ego because he knew that he was the only person who could wind you up like this.

He let go of your hands and quickly undid his belt and unfastened his jeans. He pushed them and his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free.

He teased the head of it through your extremely sensitive folds.

"B..bb...Bradley please don't tease me... nn...nn..need you so bad." You stammered out.

He slipped just the head into your aching core. "You going to stop being a brat? Gonna be my good girl?" He asked teasing the head in and out of your weeping hole.

"Yes." You breathed out desperate for his touch and the orgasm you were denied.

"Yes what?" He asks pulling back out.

"Yes Sir Captain Bradshaw. Want to be your good girl." You moan out as you feel more of him push in.

"Fuuuuuuck" you groan out once he is fully seated inside you. No matter how many times Rooster has had sex with you, you still can't get over just how far he stretches you. He fills you to the point where it is almost painful, almost.

He begins a slow rhythm, like he has all the time in the world. Like you two are somewhere private and alone when in reality you are just outside the bar which is filled with people.

"Rooster please faster!" You beg. While his lazy strokes are nice, you need him to fuck you hard and fast. Being so close and having him jerk it away from you has you on edge and you just need to cum. He knows this. He knows exactly what he is doing to you.

"Well since you said please." He states as he picks up his pace. His strokes come fast and deep. The thick head of his dick reaching that special spot deep inside you and grazing it over and over again.

It feels so good, he feels so good. You thank God everyday that this man is your husband.

His grip on your hip tightens as he continues to push into you fast and deep, fast and deep. Your toes curl into your sandals as your thighs tighten around him.

"Oh God, fuck, Rooster right there... feels so good." You moan out as he pulls out and pushes all the way back in.

You can hear the sounds of your wetness as his cock travels through your folds. Its pornographic, sinful, amazing.

"You're so close aren't you baby?" He moans into your ear. "Can feel how tight you are gripping me. You pretty little pussy is so fucking needy for me. Wants me to make it cum so bad doesn't it?" He asks in a condensing tone.

"Yes, I, please, need, ugh, Bradley." You can't form a coherent sentence. All you want is him to get you off , to make you scream, to turn you into a puddling mess... no, you don't want it, you need it.

"Look at you, my little brat, so needy you can't even talk." He groans before absolutely pounding into you.

You can't help but scream. It's all too much and not enough at the same time. His left hand drops to your clit and strokes it.

"Yesyesyesyes" you cry out, too far gone to care if anyone hears you or not. "That's it, honey, come on, cum for me. Who is making you feel this good? Who do you belong to?" He pushes just before you reach your crescendo.

"YOU ROOSTER, I FUCKING BELONG TO YOU" you scream out before euphoria washed over you. You screw your eyes shut as a white light erupts behind them. You throw your head back as tears fall from your eyes and you scream his name until you throat is raw.

He continues to push into you drawing out your high until he falls over the edge, you walls gripping him and milking his cock dry.

As you both come down from the high it takes you both a minute to catch your breath. He presses his forehead to yours as you both pant heavily.

"Fuck Cherry." He curses looking at you. You are both wrecked.

You can't help but laugh.

He slowly pulls out of you. You both wince at the loss of contact. You quickly try to clamp your thighs shut.

"Rooster. I need my panties back." You state not wanting your mixed release to start flowing down your legs.

He pulls them from his pocket and dangles them infront of you.

"Maybe I should keep these. Then everyone in there would for sure know who's girl you are." He winks. You snatch them from his hand and slip them back on and attempt to makes yourself presentable again.

But it's no use, the minute you walk back in there, everyone is going to know what the two of you did, and you bet you ass they are going to know without a doubt you are Roosters girl.

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @rosiahills22

#top gun maverick #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster smut #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun smut #lt. bradley bradshaw #top gun rooster #top gun 2 #tgm #tgm smut

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iamasaddie · 6 months

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Never Have I Ever read a Librarian! Marcus P fic. 🥰 I’m not really a Marcus P kinda girl, more of a Dave York (iykyk) girl BUT as someone who works at a library, Marcus P would be the best guy to get lost in the book shelves with 🤭😏

Hi, birdie <3 This is actually such a sweet idea! I haven't seen fics like this either! At first, I was just gonna send this ask out sending writers that see this your idea for a fic. But then I thought about it and something hit me, so here's my take on librarian!Marcus Pike. I gave it my own twist, but I hope you can still enjoy it <3

you're such a heavenly view

paring: Marcus Pike x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI) word count: 2.1k~ summary: He wants to be in love again. He's just not really sure how. a/n: This was written on a whim. Thank you to the amazing anon for planting the thought of librarian Marcus in my head <3 Not beta-ed, all mistakes are my own so pls don't plagiarize them. warnings: pining, Marcus Pike is shy and horny, male masturbation; no use of y/n MY MASTERLIST

Marcus loved the quiet.

He loved the whisper of turning pages and scribbling pens being the only noise in the spacious library he worked at. A humdrum nine-to-five that most people tried to escape became his salvation. He felt calm, at peace, a feeling that wasn’t prominent in his life before.

When he came here over two years ago just to help his old friend out, with his heart ripped to shreds and falling apart, the walls of this place held it together. And then you and your gentle smiles as you checked out books put bandaids all over it, so it started healing.

Marcus first saw you a year ago, by that time he was already comfortably moving along the labyrinths of the abode of books, knowing every section almost by heart. He still remembered your tiny manicured fingers nervously tapping the reception table as he looked through the computer base for the availability of Giorgio Vasari’s "Lives of the Artists". Before you, art section was one he never frequented for two reasons: first, he didn’t need the reminder of the past that he tried to separate from his present; and second, he knew pretty much every book there by heart.

As his eyes bore into the screen, looking for the right title, with his peripheral vision he saw you burning a hole in the side of his face. Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle, it was a while since a beautiful woman had been interested in him. Or since he noticed. You hurried to stray your gaze away, and his smile became bigger, now showing his teeth. You saw him noticing you and got flustered, that only meant that you staring was intentional. Marcus confirmed that the book you needed was available, but since it was a rare edition you couldn’t leave with it. The library was surprisingly empty for the first month of autumn, but at least you wouldn’t have any problems with staying and doing your research there. You nodded, agreeing with him. The place was quite cozy, you thought that to yourself the moment you entered from the windy autumn street.

"Let me show you to the art section, it’s pretty difficult to navigate these corridors the first time you’re here." Marcus left the librarian desk he had been occupying for the last year and motioned his hand to the right direction.

"Only the first?" You raised your eyebrows and smiled. Damn, you were beautiful in your flared jeans and a big white t-shirt with a warm-looking sweater on top. Your hair in a messy bun, either it was messy because of the wind or because you wanted it to be. Anyway, you looked fantastic like that, so Marcus smiled back automatically.

"Well, the first fifty."

You laughed, and he stumbled at the sound. Marcus felt his cheeks burn with pride, he forgot how pleasant it was to make a pretty girl laugh.

It was over a year ago, and still he remembered that beautiful sound you let out. One of the beautiful moments you shared that he kept sealed in his mind. Even though all your interactions were friendly, and sometimes borderline flirtatious, something always stopped Pike, and he got used to seeing you leaving with a nod and a tight-lipped smile, now almost never lifting your eyes up to meet his as you sat studying behind one of the many similar wooden tables.

He cursed himself, cursed his cowardice and the fact that he got panic attacks any time he tried to tell you a compliment. He hated that he became tongue-tied whenever you asked his opinion on one of the books you checked out. And when his brain was swarming with knowledge, the influences the author had, or the way the work was transcending the time it was written in; his mouth only said ‘it’s a good book’ or worse ‘it’s not bad’. He wanted to punch himself, but that would mean lifting his arms that were numb and limp on both sides of his body.

Today was not an exception, unfortunately. Marcus was sitting behind his desk, pristine, clean and occupied only by his work computer and a book he had been reading during the quiet times. You came over less than half an hour ago, saying your usual hello and asking about yet another book on art. You’d almost read them all, and Marcus was frantically thinking what would happen when you check out the last book from the art section, a place in the library that no one else went to. He told you where to find a copy of "Janson’s History of Art" and you nodded, going in the right direction without needing his help anymore. You didn't look up at him when you took your usual place near the window and placed the book on the table.

Marcus sighed, looking as you brows furrowed when you read something and started rewriting it in your notebook. Art section was your place. Yours and his. It was special, at least for him. He had walked you there exactly forty nine times. Not because you couldn’t remember where to go, no, you were confident in your stride the third time; but because it became a sort of a joke between the two of you. Sometimes you’d just come over and ask him to show you where the art section was, telling him that it was only your 21st, 33rd, 45th time in the library and you didn’t have the opportunity to learn all the right turns yet. He laughed, but always walked you there. Sometimes you were silent, sometimes you’d ask him silly questions (‘What is the rarest book here?’ 'First edition of Oscar Wilde's "The Happy Prince and Other Tales" with the author's inscription.’; ‘What is the worst thing a person did in the library?’ ‘Tried to rip a page out of the first edition of Oscar Wilde's "The Happy Prince and Other Tales"’; ‘Did you stop them?’ ‘Kind of.’; ‘Is the horror section haunted?’ ‘Yes.’). You hadn’t asked him to walk you to the art section for a month now. Marcus even wanted to suggest it himself, but his tongue felt too heavy and big for his mouth whenever he tried.

So he was left with watching. Just like dozens of times before. As he quietly observed from a distance, Marcus couldn't help but lose himself in the beauty of your presence amidst the mundane decorations of his workplace.He thought that he knew you face better than his own by now. The structure of your cheekbones, the curve of your lip, the depth of your cupid’s bow. He could close his eyes and draw you in his sleep. You were engrossed in the book when another wave of hot air from the AC above you tousled your hair. Winter this year was abnormally cold, so to keep the building warm Marcus had to turn up the temperature on the AC pretty high. Maybe he overdid it today. He saw you wiping a lonely droplet of sweat running from your temple. Yes, he definitely overdid it today.

He reached to stand up and go to the temperature controller when you started tugging up your usual bulky green sweater, and dropped back into his chair as the material of your sweater and t-shirt stuck together, so you almost took both items off. Marcus choked on his saliva seeing so much of you that he never saw before. Sure, you wore knee-length shorts and oversized t-shirts during summer, sometimes you even put on a dress when it was too hot for anything else, but this was different. The swell of your naked stomach, the almost-not-there lacy edge of your black bra, fuck, it felt so intimate.

Marcus squeezed his thighs under the table, his cock getting hard with every thought his brain provides. Fuck, it was really not a time or a place for a boner, but you looked so… He pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes and trying to relax, but instead of that he saw images of your naked skin over and over again, followed by fake scenarios where he ripped the shirt off you, kissing your willing body with his greedy mouth. Marcus could almost feel the softness of your skin under his palms, and he bit his lower lip at the phantom feeling, trying to suppress a moan.

He didn’t notice how his legs brought him to the secluded area of the art section, his hands hysterically pulling out his stiff cock from the confines of his pants, while his mind completely shut off.

It was almost primal, the incandescent feeling inside him that made him spit in the palm of his hand before wrapping it around his shaft.

"Fuck," his whisper was quiet, even though it was unlikely that anyone could hear him anyway. There were less than eight patrons when he left the main hall, all of them engrossed in their literature of choice, and he still had an hour before he had to close.

His spit-slicked hand tightened around his cock as he moved it up and down, circling the weeping head every time. Goddamn, he was sick. Fucked up. Getting hard after seeing the stomach of the girl he had been swooning over for almost a year. What in the teenage hormones was this bullshit?

Your skin, the swelling of your stomach, the tiny dip of your belly button. Fuck, he wanted to dip his tongue in the little canyon of your body and hear you suffocating on giggles.

Up, down, up, down.

He looked down, watching his hand methodically moving around his fat cock. As he got closer to his orgasm, the veins that led from the base to the tip of his cock became more pronounced, the head getting darker with every stroke. "God-fucking-dammit, baby," he dropped his head back, punching a wall but barely noticing any pain as he got succumbed by his pleasure. "So fucking gorgeous. Mine. Mine. Only mine."

If anyone heard Marcus, they’d consider him a psycho, his hoarse whisper feverishly calling someone his when he was the only one in the room. He didn’t give a single fuck. In his little fantasy, right now, you were his. Only for him to touch, only for him to love. He tripped over the edge, as his mind flooded by the memory when you first laughed at his joke, and he came all over his fist moaning your name as quietly as possible, as four thick ropes of cum painted his skin pearly white.

Marcus didn’t hear the footsteps, orgasm claiming every sense in his body until he heard a quiet ‘oh’, the voice too familiar to mistake its’ owner.

"Fuck, fuck, oh God, sorry, this is not what you think it is." His eyes went wide at the sight of you. You were pressing your copy of "Janson’s History of Art" to your chest, face curious and almost… amused? He pulled his boxers up, trying not to wince when the thick rubber band scratched the sensitive skin of his spent cock.

"Isn’t it?" You raised your eyebrows at Marcus, and he remembered that he was still standing in front of you with his pants fully undone and his boxers stained with the cum he wiped on them in a hurry.

"No." He shook his head frantically, tugging on the zipper and trying to quickly zip it up when the hem of his shirt stuck in it and he cursed, almost tearing it out.

"So you weren’t just masturbating thinking of me, and the fact that you moaned my name as you came was just a coincidence?"

'How long had you been standing there?' Marcus thought. He heard your steps closing in on him, but didn’t dare to raise his eyes to see the disgust on your face. Instead, he continued fighting with the zipper.

"Yes," he nodded, and then immediately shook his head. "No. Look, I can explain." Marcus searched his brain for the right answer, for something that could fix all of this mess, but coming up empty. His sigh was deep, almost hurting his lungs as he gave up. "Okay, I maybe can’t explain, I’m just… Sorry."

"I’m not."

He snapped his head up so fast that the sides of his vision went black for half of a second. "What?"

You were close. Very close. If you reached your arm out you could help him with a zipper he abandoned in stupor.

"I was planning to come over at the last moment tomorrow and ask you to walk me here," you stepped even closer, placing your hand on his chest and feeling the rapid fire of Marcus’ heartbeat. "You know, for our last time."

He just nodded, the blood pumping in his ears made it almost impossible to understand what you were saying, so he just stared at your lips, unconsciously licking his.

"And then," both your hands circled his neck, burrowing in the slightly damp hair at his nape, "I was going to blow you right against the rare editions shelf."

"Wha..—"

Marcus wasn’t able to finish when your lips crushed into his, tasting each other for the first time. Suddenly, he wasn’t so tongue-tied anymore.

PLEASE WRITE A COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED THE STORY ♥︎

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #iamasaddie fic #pedro pascal fic #the mentalist fic

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sepptember · 29 days

Text

𝐍𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 :: joel miller

paring :: joel miller x gn!reader

content warnings :: hurt/comfort. kinda angst?

part of my ongoing I need to start a garden fic collection.

sypnosis :: joel is a gray cloud in the sky—dark from the rain deep within its tufts, but never letting it drop. And you are the grass—aching for just a drop of water.

word count :: 1.120k

Joel is a difficult man to read. Most days he's like a book in a foreign language, impossible to understand because of your unfamiliarity. Yet every once in a while, he lets you see him–he lets you dive deep into his blood, his body, in every nook and cranny of his mind.

But it's never for long.

It frustrated you at first.

You just wanted him to open up with you and talk. You wanted him to face you head-on and tell you everything he's buried deep beneath him.

You want him to let you open up his chest and dissect the emotions he's buried deep beneath his sternum and close to his old, barely beating heart.

But he never does. He tries to tell you it's okay when his body says otherwise.

The sunset in front of you is cold despite the evening spring air. Its beauty is there, but it doesn't touch you in the way it normally should.

Joel watches it, silent and unreadable, and you wish that you were the sunset. The way he stares makes it seem like he is silently pouring his deep feelings into the ethereal scene of purples and reds, and that hurts in a way you don't expect it to.

You want him to do that with you.

And maybe he senses that. His hand, rough from the decades of fighting for his life and the life of the sleeping girl inside the house, reaches for yours.

He intertwines your fingers as if he's a needle and you're the thread—connected but it's not the way you want to be.

Which is selfish, you think. Being connected with him in any way is better than being a world apart, but sometimes you feel as if there's a dirty wall of glass between you two.

Your hand trembles against the glass, his lined up with yours from the other side, but never fully touching.

And part of wonders if it's you—if it’s because your hands contrast his, having grown up completely different and having found this place long before he did. Yours have a roughness that's woven into the tips of your fingers and palms, but it's not rough in the same way his are, and maybe that's something that disconnects you both.

Or, perhaps, there's more to it.

Maybe it's the way you look—maybe despite how often he kisses the skin of your cheek and places his hand on the plush of your back when in public—he holds a certain distaste for you.

He might not talk to you because he doesn't want to talk to someone he isn't pleased to look at. Maybe this relationship was a flower that only bloomed out of pity—watered not because someone cared, but because it would be a pity if something so tender died when it could have flourished.

You wished you could figure out what kept him from speaking to you, from telling you about his day-to-day, his inconveniences no matter how major or minor they were.

Or maybe you're not putting in the effort? You try, you swear on the graves of your grandparents that you try, but perhaps it's not enough.

You know when he's angry.

You can hear it in the way his footsteps thunder louder against the spruce wooden floors than they normally do, see it in the way his eyes crease when he scowls, and feel it in the way his shoulders are tense beneath your fingers.

And when you ask him, he doesn't say much. He just takes your hand and kisses your knuckles, eyes closed, and he says it's nothing. But maybe it is not enough.

His hand squeezes yours, making your eyes shift from the darkening sky over to him. His eyes are on you now–a hint of concern looming deep beneath the dark brown of his irises. Silently, he's asking you to talk.

“It's silly.” You say immediately, shifting nervously in the wooden chair you managed to make a few months ago. Then you realize that, maybe, it is you. “Or maybe it's not. I just. . . I feel like we don't talk about you.”

His brows furrowed as he straightened his back, the material of his shirt scuffing against the chair, and you begin again.

“I mean we do talk about you, I'm just saying that you don't open up to me. And I don't want you to feel obligated to talk, but I wish you would sometimes. We are in this together, and I hate that you deal with all of your stuff by yourself. I don't want you to feel alone with it all, you know?” You speak quickly, but you can tell in the way his eyes flicker from you to the grass that's only beginning to turn green that he heard every word.

He doesn't say anything. Not at first.

You expect him to pull his hand from yours — when he thinks he likes to clasp his hands together — but he never does. His hand seemed to get closer instead, the warmth of his palm pressing deeper into yours. And that's when it happens—the glass becomes clearer, shattering beneath your callus-covered hands, and your fingertips meet, inching closer and closer until your hands have fully met.

You're no longer a needle and thread and have now become the flower—flourishing as the sun hides behind darkened clouds and lets the softness of rainwater it instead. It'll take some time for the flower to reach its full potential, but naturally, it will blossom completely.

And you feel a little less hopeless.

The flower digs its roots deep into the dirt, clinging to its freshness yet its accompanying familiarity. It is watered naturally now, the sun feeding it and bouncing off of its vibrant petals; allowing itself to sit in the sprinkles of a light rainfall; enduring the aggressive push and pull of the winds during an occasional thunderstorm.

It doesn't wilt, never falling, never letting go of one of its petals.

When you two are happy, it is happy, its color growing; when either of you is sad, wallowing deep in your minds, or drenched in the uncomfortable wetness of loss, it stands strong, holding itself together for the both of you; and when you two are angry, it stands still and listens to every sound of the thunder in the sky until it dies down into the gentle pitter-pattering of raindrops, listening to the hum of the rain against the petals as water spills down from gutters into the grass.

It took time to build up to that, but every bit of it was worth it. Communication is never flawless—it's bumpy and messy. But it's worth trying for, no matter how stormy the path to it may be.

reblogs are highly appropriate!! <3 thanks for reading.

#tlou x reader #tlou x y/n #tlou x you #tlou imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #the last of us x reader

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klarex · 3 months

Text

I would love to dance and sing with him!

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none! Just a cute fic

Summary: Dancing around the campfire with Bofur.

Paring: Bofur x reader

Dance the night away

Pov. (Y/n)

The company stopped in the middle of the forest. The fire was lit. Bombur was cooking some stew. Everyone talked lively with smiles on their faces.

Today was a happy day. I didn't know why. It just felt like it. Maybe because we didn't get attacked today, or maybe the weather was nice? I had no idea.

I was sitting next to Dori, talking with him and laughing, while we waited for our supper. Bombur stirred the stew, and he tapped the spoon on the pot two times. I heard someone clap and tap their foot. I knew a song was coming.

Bofur stood up and started singing. Everyone stopped talking and looked at him. The smiles creeped on every person from the company. Some of the dwarves joined Bofur. He spun around the fire, singing a happy song. I laughed at a sweet moment, but then the singer stopped before me and pulled his hand out for me. He had this silly smile of his on his face.

- Ye mind dancin' with me?

He said with his thick accent, and I placed my hand in his. He pulled me up on my feet.

- No. Not at all.

I said and smiled. He spun me around, singing and laughing. We jumped from foot to foot, waving our hands. Now everyone was having fun.

When the song finished, Bombur stood up and poured the stew into our bowls. We all sat down and started eating in silence, but with smiles. The talks started after a while again.

Bofur was looking at me from across the fire. When I caught him staring, he looked away, blushing and focusing back on his supper.

After eating, the talks started growing again.

- Bofur! Sing us something again!

Ori said, and Nori nodded, hitting his thigh.

- Aye! Go on, lad!

Dwalin said, and Bofur laughed, leaning on his knee and standing up. He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He started singing and opened his eyes. Everyone looked at him and bounced in their seat, humming the tune. This time Fíli stood up and walked up to me, pulling his hand out. I grabbed it, and he helped me get up.

He spun me around and put his hand on my back while dancing. Then I felt a strong grip on my waist, and someone pulled me their way. I lost my balance and landed on their chest. I looked up and saw Bofur giving Fíli a death stare, but still singing.

I looked around and saw that no one paid attention to us. They just enjoyed themselves while singing, laughing, and dancing once again. Fíli walked away with a chucke and wink to Bofur. He blushed and looked down at me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he put his on my hips.

- Don't be jealous, Bof..

I whispered in his ear, and he shivered. He squeezed my hips and pulled me closer, if that was even possible. Other folks sang their hearts out, minding their own business. I put one of my hands behind his head and gently leaned in. I pecked his lips and gently pulled away, looking into his eyes.

- I'm only yours..

I whispered with a smirk. His cheeks dark red and eyes wide. It took him a second to process what happened. Then he passionately leaned in and kissed me hungrily, but softly. I kissed him back. His moustache lightly tickled me, and I laughed, pulling away. I looked at him with love and a warm smile. He smirked and quickly lifted me up in his arms.

- BOFUR!!

I shouted, putting my arms around his neck to secure myself from eventual fall. Everyone around the fire now looked at us. Bofur was laughing and spinning me around, joining others in singing again.

The night went on and on. Everyone got tired after a while, so we stopped dancing and singing, but the talks were still heard.

I was sitting next to Bofur, leaning on his shoulder. He had his arm wrapped around my waist. I tried to focus on the conversation between the dwarves, but it was hard, because of a warm body pressed to mine and exhaustion taking over me. I yawned, and Bofur looked down at me.

- Ye tired?

He asked with a smile. I nodded, and he wrapped his arms around me, lifting me up. He excused himself and walked to our bedrolls. He gently put me down, and I lay down. He kneeled next to me and wrapped a blanket around my body.

- Wait her'..

He said and slowly stood up. He walked up to his bedroll, took it, and walked back to me. He put it beside mine and lowered himself. He put his blanket over himself, but enough to cover us both.

When he lay down, I immediately hugged him tightly and nuzzled my face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me tightly and kissed the top of my head.

- Goodnight, Bof..

I whispered, running my hands up to his neck. He kissed my head again.

- Goodnight, princess..

He whispered back, and we fell asleep, secured in each other's arms.

♡~masterlist~♡

#bofur #bofur the dwarf #bofur x reader #bofur x you #th #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit x you #hobbit x reader #hobbit #middle earth x reader #middle earth #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #oneshot

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unicorncornflakes · 10 months

Text

Dark Desire - Modern AU! | Chapter 12

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond doesn't know how he feels every time he sees you. Neither do you when you look at him. Your father Aegon has always been absent from your upbringing ever since he divorced your mother. That role has been filled by Aemond until last summer, when everything changed.

Tags: Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes manipulation, violence, death, and inc3st, at some points. Reader has purple eyes and her mother is from Dayne House, the rest is complete free :D

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @thedamewithabook @afro-hispwriter @chainsawsangel @thetrueblackheart @atherverybest @itsabby15 @boundlessfantasy @partypoison00 @glame @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @aaaaaamond @imaloserbby @youngcomputerpuppy @aemondsfavouritebastard @cloudroomblog @queenofshinigamis @bluevxnus @wooya1224 @serving-targaryen-realness @darkenchantress @padfooteyes @mariannnavao @moonlightfoxx @jennifer0305 @ammo23 @iloveallmyboys @tempt-ress @bellameshipper @okfashionista @shelbyteller @dahlias-and-marigolds @the-knights-of-ne @bellaisasleep

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 5.7K

Acknowledgment: To @ammo23 for the brilliant corrections and the wonderull work as beta reader, for all the patience and the love that always shows to this story. I´m so grateful. Thank you so much :D

“I don't know what we can do. The drunken dragon always accepts our conditions. Always. That Stupid Aegon...” Gerolf Dayne, the oil magnate, the richest man in Starfall and the second richest man in Dorne, just behind the Martells, was smoking a cigar in that meeting room in King's Landing, at one of the most expensive and prestigious law firms in all of Westeros. “If now (Y/N) has stopped having her head on the clouds and wants to study a career, everything is fine with me. It was about time that she stopped those stupid dreams of wanting to be an artist," he took another puff, and Gerold, his eldest son, narrowed his violet eyes, annoyed.

"We have enough money, both us and the dragons, to do whatever she wants," your uncle said, getting up from the seat he occupied next to his father, who presided over the long table in the office. "Let her be what he wants to be; let her do what she wants."

"The only thing that worries me is that she has suddenly changed her mind. If she applied to Sunspear the same day, and then told me she didn't want to go, that she wanted to make a career here, I don't know. It worries me," your mother sighed, defeated, not understanding what was happening to you. You had always been firm in the things you wanted, in what you desired. And now all of them had gone to the capital for an emergency meeting so that they and their lawyers could talk about the conditions they would put in place in this new situation because that's how it had been all your life; conditions and more conditions imposed by the lawyers of one and the other, all imposed looking for what is supposedly best for you, but very rarely taking into account your own wishes. It had been like that all your life, and it would be like that until you finished college.

"It's normal for you to worry. It's your puppy." Gerolf smiled at his daughter; he had always had a soft spot for his little girl, even if she had disappointed him by marrying your father. His little girl had come home, leaving behind a lazy, terrible dragon. However, she had returned with a small setback for his father: You. You weren't a Dayne, you weren't a Targaryen… Did your grandfather love you? Sure, you were like your mother enough that he saw a little copy of his little girl, but he kept feeling like a failure. Had he brought up your mother so badly that she allowed herself to be tricked by your father? "But still, this meeting could have been settled with a fax machine: 'We don't accept dragon terms.' That's all I would have told them."

"I need to see her, Dad. I didn't feel like things were going well the last time I talked to her," your mother emphasized again. Your mother had only received a call from you, in which you had told her that you wanted to stay there, that you were fine, but even so, she had not been convinced. Something was up, and all her alarms had gone off when you told her you would be living at your father's house while studying at the university. That was not something your mother would condone under any circumstances.

"Besides, we have to talk about the question of changing her last name." Your uncle Gerold sat down next to his father, right in front of your mother, after looking out the window. “Before she left, it was what she wanted.”

"What?" your mother asked, surprised, almost worried. Because deep down, she knew that it would kill Aegon. Because deep down, she was still worried about your father, maybe she wasn't in love, but she was still fond of him. "I don't understand you. She has never told me anything like that."

“Well, she and I talked about it several times last year. When she came of age, we discussess wapping Targaryen for Dayne, and we're done with all this crap," Gerold said with a shrug as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Your mother looked at her older brother as if he was telling her something she had never expected, and your grandfather smiled with pleasure.

"I think it's great. After all, the ones who have been in charge of raising her have been us, not the dragons," he answered happily, at least in that you were a Dayne, an authentic girl from Starfall.

“That would break her father,” your mother said, almost afraid to speak, and her father looked at her, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Well, Aegon might have thought the same thing when he fucked someone else while he was married to you. He could have thought about your heart…" he said it without any love, almost not believing what he was hearing from his daughter. It was terrible, too terrible. But, just as he was going to continue his speech, the meeting room door opened, and you appeared first, followed by Aemond, who seemed like a shadow of you. Your father followed him, and then Daeron appeared, who was chatting with the lawyer of your maternal family. Your mother was surprised to see you with a necklace of the heraldry of your paternal family, and Gerold smiled cheekily. So, in the end, the one-eyed dragon had fucked you, and that was his cheeky way of naming you as his own? Great.

"Mom", you ran into her arms, and your mother hugged you tight, not wanting to let go because she really didn't want to. She was just worried about you. She would never stop being, but all those changes were too much. Then you greeted your grandfather with a brief kiss. He responded with a loving smile, and again, you ran into Gerold's arms, who hugged you and simply whispered in your ear, "Are you finally flying dragons now?" He winked at you, then shook hands with Aemond, who had followed you across the room as the others greeted each other.

You blushed at his words while the others greeted each other. While Gerold and Aemond were talking, they had always been a good rapport between them even though Gerold called him an asshole behind Aemond’s back, you saw the scene that would mark the rest of your life. Your father reached out like a helpless puppy to your mother becauseif your mother was going to marry another man, your father would never get over it. He would always be in love with his Stargirl and would always live with the burden of knowing that he had destroyed the most beautiful thing he had. Your mother kissed him on the cheek, and Aegon smiled to himself; they exchanged a few more words that made your father smile, and your mother left him without looking back. She just sat in her seat while your father went to the other end of the table. This was what a love that could never be again felt like.

Although you were not physically present during those negotiations, they did involve topics that directly affected you. But this time your mother's family had demanded that you be present; after all, you were already of legal age, and what was said there would begin to mark your adult life.

"How about we sit down?" Your grandfather spoke with the deep voice that characterized him. "I would like to finish before lunchtime, " he said, and all the others sat at the table; at one end, the Targaryen’s; at the other, the Dayne’s. You went to sit next to Aemond when your maternal family's lawyer spoke. The best thing for everyone was that you sat in the middle of the table, without taking sides for any position and where you could not feel pressured by any of the parties. You looked at Aemond and saw his jaw clench, but he said nothing. You just sat in the middle of the table, almost as if you felt that the fight for you was just about to start and that you would always be the victim.

“I think you received our proposal. The one we sent out last night,” Daeron said, taking a seat between his brothers as your mother's lawyer did the same. Gregory Martell, one of the younger sons of Sunspear's owners and your mother's future brother-in-law, had always been devoted to your family's cause. After all, your custody and everything around it had fed his children for the last 17 years.

"Sure. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here," Gregory smiled and cleared his throat as he offered your uncle Gerold and your grandfather a copy of the proposal. Your mother almost seemed left out of the negotiations, but you could tell Daeron was doing the same. The only one with a copy of the conditions was Aemond, while Aegon stared at the ceiling and wiggled his leg in his seat. It seemed that your life had been directed entirely by your uncles and your grandfather as if your parents didn’t have a say.

"First, I'd like to talk to (Y/N) because we've gone from wanting to go to Sunspear to wanting to stay in King's Landing." Your Uncle Gerold put on his reading glasses, the kind he hated to wear in front of people who weren't his own family, but he still did it so as not to lose details of the new contract that your paternal family was trying to establish. "Why?" He looked at you seriously, expecting an argument bigger than the one he already knew. Now you were between Aemond's sheets,and he didn't care, but he needed a more convincing excuse than that. However, just before you spoke, Aemond cleared his throat.

"Why wouldn't she want to stay here? We are her family," he said feeling attacked, and Gerold smiled. Well, it was your boyfriend coming to your aid, but he needed to listen to you, not Aemond. "I think (Y/N) has reached a greater maturity this summer, where she has realized that she can have a bigger and brighter future if she stays at King's Landing College instead of going to Sunspear School of the Arts," Aemond said, almost relishing the stratagem he had concocted that bound you to his side. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye with a sad and indecisive grin, almost as if you felt that he had never liked the idea of what you wanted to do with your life. As if he felt completely in control now of your life as well. You looked at the table under the watchful eye of your Uncle Gerold.

"Okay," your maternal grandfather replied, taking another drag on his cigar. Gerold looked at his father with a frown, almost as if he felt that his father didn't realize what was wrong with you. "Sunspear always seemed stupid to me. A career here will always be much better than five years of studying the arts, which will lead to nothing." You looked at him incredulously, as if you had never expected that from people who loved you, but that meeting was not normal, and neither were the reasons that had led you to be there.

"I don't think Sunspear is stupid," your father spoke, breaking the silence, and your mother followed shortly after.

"Of course not. If that's what you want (Y/N), we're here to support you." Your mother followed your father in her argument, and for the first time,you wanted them to stay together as many things would have changed. Your uncle Gerold sighed, and you saw Aemond's jaw clench again, not daring to look at you. You wondered what was going through his head. "Honey, don't change that decision because others think it's not something with a future", your mother spoke with affection, and your father followed her.

"Exactly," Aegon replied, nodding, and Aemond continued without looking at you. You only saw how he avoided eye contact with you, almost as if he regretted having asked you to make such a selfish sacrifice and that it seemed to be for his only benefit.

"This summer, a lot has happened and... I want to stay in King's Landing," you said in a whisper. "I'll study history and philosophy at the university here and…" your uncle Gerold laughed sarcastically while your mother looked at you incredulously.

“(Y/N), you've never been good at philosophy. I mean, you passed it, but you never got good grades in it," your mother said almost desperately, not understanding what was happening to you. Your uncle looked at you incredulously, almost as if he didn't believe what he was hearing from you.

“Uncle Aemond will help me with the admission and…” you started saying, but Gerold cut you off quickly.

"Aemond, how much do you have to do with this change of heart?" He said it almost as if he was trying to protect you again, as if he didn't like it anymore that you were flying with dragons instead of staying with them. If Aemond was going to control you, Gerold was not going to. He wanted to see you happy, not at Aemond's side, like a nice possession to show off to others.

"It's the only college where I could get her admitted, taking into account that the deadlines are already closed", your uncle put forward as an excuse. He didn't want to admit that it was the career he wanted for you, the hidden dream he'd always had, that you'd follow in his footsteps, that you'd manage to finish the doctorate that he had to give up to take care of the family after his father's death. "It is a good career and a good institution."

"Gods, did we only come here because you managed to sweet-talk her, Aemond?" Your mother sighed almost desperately while your uncle Gerold raised his fingers to his eyes and scratched them hard, almost fed up with that encounter. You had never been in a meeting like that, but you already saw how they were, how they had always been. A continuous fight between two sides that would never reach an understanding. Aemond was about to speak when you lashed out again.

"No, Mom. Really, it's what I want to do," you sighed, defeated; you wanted to stay there, next to Aemond. You didn't want to lose him, you couldn't. You were just freaking out at that meeting. You felt your heartbeat anguished. Why did everyone put you in that situation? "Please, can we continue?" you asked, and everyone in that gathering looked at each other.

"Perhaps, it would be better if you wait outside", Aemond said, addressing you as if you two were alone. You looked the other way, seeing how your mother looked at you confused and your uncle Gerold angry.

"It's okay. I just want to get this over with," you declared tiredly. You hadn't slept all night, and Aemond looked at you desperately, almost as if he was beginning to realize how far he had come in his selfishness.

"At this point, Gregory, bring out the conditions," your grandfather Gerolf spoke again, giving an order to his lawyer. The Martell opened his case taking out a new paper and handing a copy to Daeron and another to Aemond. Your father moved closer so he could read the one he'd given Daeron. Aemond read silently and laid the page contemptuously on the table, slumping back into his seat, utterly jaded.

"Whose brilliant idea was this?" Aemond took out a cigarette and put it to his lips, lit it with his Zippo and puffed on it, exhaling uncharacteristically through his mouth, almost as if he were angry and confused all over again. You were already beginning to understand how he acted every time he felt attacked.

"Mine." Your mother spoke, not looking at Aemond. He could never bear her. Never. The one-eyed man had always been driven crazy by her and on issues that referred to you even more so.

"How not?" Aemond replied, sneering at your mother as if he were the smartest in the room because He felt sorry for the rest, but Aemond Targaryen was superior to any of them.

"Does it bother you that you have to pay for your studies in full or that (Y/N) doesn't stay to live in the mansion?" Gerold came to his sister's defense and spoke, looking at Aemond, holding his gaze, daring him to speak. But your uncle was always talking; he was never silent. Dragons couldn't afford to be.

"I don't mind paying, it bothers me that you want to separate her from us", Aemond reproached your maternal family for that part, angry and furious "It almost seems like what you've always wanted to do. Separate her from what she is: a Targaryen."

“No, what I want is for my daughter to start making her life. Away from anyone who cuts their wings, away from people who always forget her birthdays," your mother replied, remembering that hurt. Her words were so true, but at the same time, so painful that you just wanted to cry while everyone ignored you in the name of your wellbeing. They fought against themselves in a fierce battle in which there would only be one loser.

"I do not agree with this clause," Aemond repeated again, ignoring all your mother's words.

"Me neither", replied your father, offended for the first time with his ex-wife. "(Y/N) is not so bad at home" Your father pushed you into the jaws of the dragon and locked you up without knowing it, thinking that you would be happier that way. You spent all your day with Aemond, and he always saw you happy; why wouldn't you be happy living in his home? He did not understand where those conditions came from.

"Perhaps a good measure would be that since we are going to pay the full amount of the studies, which we do not care about and which we will be happy to do, (Y/N) could live in the family home, as a measure of good faith" your uncle Daeron spoke with his lawyer speech and your mother did not remain silent.

"No, definitely not. We will take care of the cost of the place where she wants to live in King’s Landing, but she will not live with you. I'm sorry, but no," the daughter of the biggest oil tycoon, the woman who had never allowed herself to be tamed by anything or anyone, appeared again on the scene, ready to fight for the happiness of her puppy. "I refuse. We already made the concession that she changed her mind at the last moment, but not that she lives with you. No."

"We want (Y/N) to live where she will be close to the university, to develop as an independent entity, without family ties that can bind you," said Gregory Martell, explaining the wish of your maternal family. They only wanted for you what they had always wanted; that you be yourself, that you develop away from her last name, from your father's last name or from anything that could stop you from being yourself.

They continued arguing, much to your grandfather's chagrin, even after lunch. They continued until night fell. The session was left to continue the next day, waiting to find a solution to your situation. But you realized something, nobody asked you again what you wanted. You only saw your mother scream, Aemond clench his jaw every time she spoke, your uncle Gerold trying to control his sister, and your father staring at the ceiling in despair. That was your happy family, and it seemed that in it, you were nothing. Not a Dayne, not a Targaryen. Nothing.

"Do you have the dress yet?" you asked your mother, both lying in the hotel room that your maternal family had reserved at the last moment when they saw that the negotiations about your studies were dragging on. The two of you had dined alone in her room, although Aemond had taken you there, and he would be in charge of picking you up and taking you back to the family home. You knew that he was waiting for you in the hotel bar. You didn't know if he was patient or not, but at that moment, you needed to be with your mother.

"No, not yet. I would prefer that you come with me to see them, and there is still time," your mother told you, looking at the ceiling. She looked tiredat the end of the day. The truth was that the last thing on her mind at that moment was her wedding. You worried her even more. "You've barely eaten," she commented, looking now at your plate, which you had barely touched. She sat on the edge of the bed, and you followed her.

"It's just that I'm not hungry lately", you commented without much desire to talk. You just wanted to be with her. Having a moment of rest in what was now a roller coaster of emotions.

"If all this change is because of Cregan Stark..." she started to speak, blaming everything that was happening on what had happened with the northerner as if you wanted to stay there just to wait for Cregan to come back. You blushed. You barely thought about him; you would never do it again.

"No, Mom. It's just that I want to stay here. That's all," you replied, looking at the plate with empty eyes. The truth is that you didn't feel like eating, you hardly slept, and you only spent your days at the expense of what Aemond wanted. Was that the life you wanted to lead? No, but you were afraid of losing the person you loved.

"I need to understand why, honey. I need to know," she begged you to know, but you couldn't tell her. You couldn't tell her that you loved Aemond, that you just wanted to be by his side, that you needed him, that he was like the worst drug you were addicted to, that you adored when he undressed you and when he kissed you, that you were dying to be a single dawn away at his side… that you were simply in love.

"You wouldn't understand, Mom", you whispered to her, holding onto your knees, wanting to end the matter. They were all blind. No one saw what was happening, but the necklace that now hung from your neck made your mother begin to flake at an idea that she preferred to bury in the bottom of her heart. It was impossible for history to repeat itself, right?

"Get me the same, and get me the bill" Your uncle Gerold sat next to Aemond, took out his credit card and gave it to the waiter, much to Aemond's annoyance. The dragon narrowed his eye in annoyance. The last thing he wanted to do was talk or just see Gerold after arguing about you all day. Both sitting at the Hightower hotel's bar, Aemond took a silent sip of his whiskey while Gerold drank it in one go until almost finishing it.

"You didn't have to pay for it," Aemond commented, not looking at the Dornishman who now sat next to you.

"That's true. You have much more money than me. The three heads of the dragon came out in that interview," said the son of the oil magnate. His eyes would always seek to provoke Aemond, pushing him almost to his limit, yet this time when Aemond looked at him, Gerold only dank silently.

They both continued in silence for a long time, and Gerold watched with a smirk as Aemond looked at his expensive watch, waiting for you. The amount of time you had already been upstairs seemed excessive to him. Besides, he had decided to give you a surprise. After such a long day, he didn't think about taking you home to sleep. You would go to a hotel, you would make love until dawn, and he would whisper to you what a good girl you were. You always liked that. He took another swallow of his whiskey, why didn't you come down now?

"I don't think she is going to come go down anytime soon if it's any consolation," Gerold answered, seeing him look at the clock desperately. However, he frankly asked what the others refused to see. "How long have you two been fucking?" he asked bluntly, not looking at him, just taking a small sip of his whiskey as if it wasn't him.

"None of your business," Aemond replied, not flustered, not feeling like a monster. He was superior in every way to a man like Gerold. He wasn't going to feel threatened by him, he never would.

"I think at this point where she wants to give up her dreams for you, yes, it ismy business", he replied. His violet eyes locked on Aemond's one-eyed gaze. The dragon averted his eye from Gerold. He felt guilty. Having seen you as he had seen you in that meeting was proof that he would never be a good choice for you. It was too selfish, but he couldn't be without you. He did not imagine it. He could not. It was impossible for him.

"She can't leave King's Landing. She just can't." That was all Aemond told him, unable to say much more. He could never be weak, ever. Next to Gerold, in that bar, that was exactly what was happening, and he didn't feel comfortable with it.

The Dornishman took a swing of his drink and dared to speak. He would be the first and only one who would care about your true happiness. “I have a place, it’s not big nor luxurious, but the most loyal to me serve there," he said, shrugging. "It has a garden, and the main rooms face an inner courtyard where you could fuck her against the balustrade, and no one would ever know. Nobody."

Aemond looked at him in confusion and swallowed. He didn't want to accept his help, never would, and yet he knew you would be happier at Sunspear than you would be at home with him and the rest of the family. Gerold was showing him the perspective of what your life would really be like if you stayed in King’s Landing. You wouldn't eat, how long had you not eaten? You wouldn't sleep. You wouldn't be happy because it was being close to everything that trapped you and didn't let you breathe. Gerold was proposing a solution to both of you, a solution where you could be away from all prying eyes but together at the end of the day.

"You take a plane on Friday afternoon, and you leave on Monday morning. The two of you, in a new place, where you could be more than you are now.” Your Dornish uncle spoke again, wishing he was having an effect on the dragon.

"It's still Westeros," Aemond whispered to himself, taking another small swallow. The Dornishman's words cut deep into his heart. However, he did not trust Aemond Targaryen �� he was not a being that could be trusted by anyone. "What do you want in exchange for this?" he spoke frankly since Aemond knew that favours pay off.

"May (Y/N) be happy, may this never be heard of... may the same thing as Rhaenyra not happen to her..." Gerold shrugged, remembering the scandal that had happened so many years ago. "I don't want anyone to find out, ever," he declared, getting up from the seat next to Aemond. "Think about it and leave a good tip for the waiter. You have more money than me," he sneered, leaving Aemond alone with his thoughts, only at the prospect of you being happier than you are now.

"Have you had anything for dinner?" Aemond finally spoke, and you looked at him with a smile, sitting on the terrace of that hotel room where he had taken you that night. You stretched out, your whole body half-naked in front of him, and he just smiled. That was how he liked you, in the moonlight, happy and radiant because you were with him, but something was missing. If you stayed on King's Landing, you would always be missing something.

"My mother ordered some dinner" You smiled at him, and he knelt in front of you, between your legs, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling at him, happy to have a moment like this after so long. "And have you had something to eat?"

"Well, the guy from the bar gave me some sweets with the whiskey", he confessed, knowing that this would make you laugh.

"Nooo, what are you doing eating that? They must have been years old," you replied, laughing and caressing his hair, and he laughed too. He kissed you sweetly, and you followed him, stretching your arms over his shoulders, letting yourself be carried away by such a quiet moment. At the end of the kiss, he just sighed and unhooked your bra, getting goosebumps all over your skin. His touch will always fascinate you. He buried his face in between your bare breasts, and you laughed. Aemond might be held in higher regard than other men, but in the end, they were all equal, and all did the same.

"Go to Sunspear. Never listen to me again when it comes to something that goes against what you want," he whispered to you, and you separated him from your body. You contemplated a surrendered man.

"Aemond..." you started saying, but he interrupted you again.

"I'll come to see you. I would travel the whole world to see you. But don't let me stop what you want to be. I need you to be happy. Much more than I need to be happy myself," he whispered to you again, and you didn't talk about it again. Nevermore. He wouldn't tell you about his conversation with your uncle Gerold, he never would. He wouldn't tell you that he planned to come to see you whenever he could, that in the house that Gerold had offered you, no one would see you, and… for a moment, he was excited at the thought that he could go hand in hand with you in a public place, although that was madness, a simple fantasy. But what do humans not live on, if not fantasies? And Aemond, at that moment, felt closer to men than to gods, despite being a Targaryen.

The next day, the new points and terms of your new change of mind were discussed. It was concluded that you would finally study at Sunspear, that your paternal family would be in charge of paying for the school for the coming years and that your maternal family would arrange everything for you to live in the house with a garden that Gerold had in the capital of the Martells.

Both parties reached the same agreement that they had prior to your previous change of mind, and your mother breathed easier as if that visit had been what you needed, and you smiled happily. The subject of the change of last name was something that was not discussed at that meeting at Gerold's insistence. He had understood that now you were more Targaryen than even your father. After all, you had succumbed to the same thing that all Targaryen’s ended up surrendering, the same taste for their own blood and lineage. But he didn't care, he wanted you to be happy without anyone finding out. And thanks to Gerold, relative peace returned. He would protect you; he would take care of you. However, no one saw how your face changed when you received an unexpected message: Cregan was returning to the capital. And you didn't know what you would tell him now that things would never be the same again.

Aemond remembered blood. He remembered the pain and the scream as he was hit. His mouth tasted of blood. The metallic, iron taste that ran through his throat as he sobbed. His nose couldn't get rid of the unmistakable scent of blood either. Like a deluded child, he thought his eye would be saved as he writhed on the floor. He was a stupid kid. Always was.

Rhaenyra had no natural children, or at least it was what she always said to end up avoiding the shame of having given birth to three bastard children, who had nothing to do with the cousin she had married to gain the influence of the Velaryon. A fruitful union. In which the three bastard children that Rhaenyra had given birth to had been given as adopted. They had all believed it, or at least they had all pretended to believe it. Even Helaena, who had married one of them to her own nephew, but no one had said anything because they weren't Targaryen blood like them, were they? Hypocrites. They all danced to what Rhaenyra said, but that was another story. Another story that has nothing to do with that child who was writhing in anguish and pain on the floor. Or, perhaps a lot, but that was not what was happening to Aemond now.

Luke had attacked him. Aemond knew the truth as well as they did. That dirty truth that everyone was trying to hide. They were bastards and children of the pure and holy Rhaenyra, although they all tried to hide it, and Aemond was the only one brave enough to have said it out loud, or perhaps the most innocent and sincere of them all.

Still, there had been consequences. He had lost his eye for telling the truth, and it was not the pain of losing the eye that affected Aemond the most. It was afterwards, looking in the mirror, the memory of the hospital room where they had sewn him up, adolescence marked by a disfigured face... and the words of Daemon, his favourite uncle. He had said that he deserved it and had sided with the one who had gouged out his eye, and Aemond promised himself that in an act which one Targaryen had positioned himself against another would not go unpunished. Aemond Targaryen learned to be a vengeful man.

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond modern au #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine

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arcielee · 1 month

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Interview With a Writer

Thank you @st-eve-barnes for going over your Saltburn series with me! Just a reminder, you can view volume 1 & 2 of my ongoing series Interview With a Writer, where these talented individuals allow me to pick their brains over the brilliance behind their writing!

Name: st-eve-barnes

Story: Leverage

Paring: Michael Gavey x Female!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ for explicit content and language. Kissing, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, hand job, fingering, p in v sex. First kiss and loss of virginity. Experienced reader. Enemies to lovers vibes.

So, when did you start writing?

I guess I have to say as a teenager, though I never shared anything I wrote back then. I still have the notebooks I used to drabble in (in Dutch), it wasn’t very good at all but I guess even back then I had that need to be creative and make my own stories.

I officially started writing fanfic in 2013. I watched Thor the Dark World, fell in love with Loki, made a Tumblr and a whole new world opened. After a few months of reading fanfic, I started writing my own. Again, it wasn’t very good at all but even my bad stories slowly started to find an audience on here, so I stuck with it.

Loki is amazing, just Aemond energy in a different font.

He truly is! I've written different characters since, but the moment I saw Aemond on screen I was transported back to the first time I saw Loki. His intensity, that quiet threat like you don't know what he's going to do next, combined with this, "I was made to be king but my stupid brother is the chosen one."

And a certain sadness, of course. We know they're the villains, but we understand them in a way and can feel their pain. And they are sexy as hell of course ;)

Where did the plot for Leverage come from?

Okay, so first of all, I am someone who never plans an entire plot when I start a fic. I am very much a "make it up as I go along" writer. I start with an idea and a dynamic I want to write between two characters and then I build from there.

For this one I wanted Reader and Michael to have a common goal and a common enemy, something that would push these two different characters to want to work together. I wanted the enemies to lovers vibe but soft. Like, you can tell very early on in the fic that they have empathy for each other. When Reader is crying, Michael softens up easily, and when she sees Michael being vulnerable about not being able to get girls, she feels for him as well.

Their personalities will still clash even after that, but you can (hopefully) feel the connection between them as well. I wanted Ben's threat to loom over them for the entire fic but also never make it the main plot point in every chapter. The main plot for me here was how Michael and Reader could help each other change and grow, and then either accept that change or turn away from it.

Was there anything in specific that inspired your Reader portrayal?

No, not really, I think. I wanted to make her independent and confident, but also a little bit lonely, all traits you can also find in Michael. And anything else, as usual, I make up as I go along. I get to know the characters as I write them and often I'm surprised where they take me. In this fic I think it was Michael who surprised me the most though, he really turned out different than I initially had planned.

Explain your interpretation of Michael. What drives him? How did he differ from what you originally had in mind?

Salburn didn't give us much to work with, and I actually love that because it gives us so much freedom to play with the character.

I went with what the movie did give us: Michael's obvious hatred for the popular privileged kids. It's the reason he initially hates Reader, but warms up to her when he learns that she is actually working for her place at Oxford and she is not a real part of Ben's group. I think he is driven to help her purely because of that common enemy in the beginning.

Then he gets to know her a little and the promise of sex comes into play, which he definitely doesn't say no to. What surprised me in writing him is that I initially planned on writing him as a sub throughout the entire fic, but then half way in the tables started turning and he started taking over control a bit (of the Reader and me as well apparently!). And then suddenly it made complete sense to write him that way, because he would be that overeager student who wants to do well and who does the homework to get it exactly right, it doesn't matter whether it's math or sex, he wants to show how good and smart he is.

Him just accepting his feelings for her so calmly was also something I didn't plan, but just sort of happened as I was writing.

My initial plans there was going to be a big fight between her and Michael right before they would call things off. He would force her to admit her feelings and the sex would turn quite rough; Michael just being Michael and saying a lot of wrong things to her that would eventually shut her down completely. But I never wrote that scene and by the time I got there in the story it didn't seem to fit their characters anymore and it also seemed too heavy for this fic so I let go of that idea.

Do you feel your Reader and Michael complement one another?

I definitely think they complement each other, but I also think they are quite alike in many ways. As I said before, they are both quite confident in different ways and insecure in others.

I do think they complement each other perfectly with Michael being more book smart and focused, while Reader is (a lot) better with people and social skills. I think them being together changes them both for the better cause they can learn from each other's personalities and bring out the best out in each other (but also the worst, of course).

Let's say that in their future they definitely learn to focus on bringing out the best and not the worst in each other ;)

Do you think you'll ever continue their story?

Never say never, but there's no plans to write more for them for now. I don't think I've written many sequels over the years, but I love writing different ideas and dynamics between two characters and once they are together, it's like "my work here is done."

Do you have a personal favorite story (on ao3 or Tumblr) you'd like to share?

My absolute favorite story is from a previous fandom that I'm not in anymore, but I have to share that one as it is the single most beautiful thing I've ever read. It was the fic that pulled me into the fandom. It's a Stucky story and it's called Not Easily Conquered, known as NEC in the fandom.

It will crush your soul and heal you and I will give anyone the same advice I got before I read it for the first time: be prepared because this one will hurt. I cried for like a week after I read it and I don't cry easily so this one should come with a warning. But it is absolutely worth it!

Do you have another story in the works?

The only thing I'm working on right now is a Felix Catton x Reader story called Pretty Little Liars. Two chapters have been posted and I'm working on the next ones, but it may be a while as life has been a bit full on here lately.

Would you like to share a snippet of what's to come?

“I think he has a little crush on you,” you stated while Felix opened the door to his room and let you step inside first. Felix shook his head but the little blush on his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by you. “It’s not like that,” he denied, “He’s just…a bit lost and I’m trying to be his friend.” “You sure that’s all he wants?” “Yeah,” he laughed, “Ollie doesn’t want me, he just wants to be like me.” “If you say so,” you sighed, not convinced. Felix grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you down to sit on the side of his bed, leaning forward to look into your eyes, “Hey, come on, don’t ruin this by becoming jealous.” “I’m not jealous, I’m…concerned.” That wasn’t a lie. Jealousy was never a factor, you knew right from the start that Felix would never truly be yours, you would always have to share him with the rest of the world. And you always accepted that. But the idea of sharing him with Oliver somehow made your blood boil. Felix kneeled down in front of you, eyes locking with yours as his gaze darkened and he smiled that irresistible smile of his. “Now, did you come up here to chat about Ollie, or to get your pussy eaten, hmm? Cause I can’t do both at the same time.” His lips connected with your knee, kissing your skin softly and you bit your lip and sighed deeply, “Fine, I’ll shut up.”

#interview with a writer #bts #of their brilliant writing #writing community #writing stuff #writers on tumblr

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excalibur-gone-missing · 1 month

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Rakes never cry

Paring: joshua x you

Genre: angst, regency!au

warnings: mentions of sex

summary: idk its just sad

words: 817

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask. Plus, if you loved it enough don't forget to reblog, it will help me reach a larger audience.

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Someone needs to tell Joshua that whatever he is seeing is wrong, that it’s not your form that is dancing with the man so closely on the floor.

It has been almost a year since he last saw you and he never thought that this is how the reunion with you would happen. But what rights does he have to stop you from dancing with this man you are enamored with, so enamored that you can barely shift your eyes away from him.

He thinks back to the time when it was him holding you that close, twirling you around the ballroom and hearing your beautiful laughs and talking to you in hushed whispers about some gossip he heard while playing poker with the other dukes.

Listening to you laugh when recounted an exceptionally funny story from his recent trip.

He thinks about all the nights he spent with you lying on a haystack at the back of his stable, smoking a cigar and talking about life and even though it was not the most ideal place to have heartfelt conversations, you both somehow made it work.

As he looks you, he notices how you at Jeonghan like he arranged in the stars in the night sky for you, like all the galaxy you hold your eyes were just stars burning with love for the man. He realizes that one year is indeed a long time, and a whole lot has changed in just a mere span of 365 days.

It took him just one afternoon to confess that he never loved you, that you were merely a fascination to him due to the off-limits nature of your relationship. It took him just one afternoon to throw away all those nights of laughter, all the evenings of passionate love making behind the theater while his friends were busy indulging in the new melodious shows with their betrothed or wives.

The thought of losing his status of as the nonchalant Casanova was too much for his foolish boyish mind to accept so he did what he was the best at he fled from the conflict. Never the one to think about consequences, or even about anyone but him, he could never fathom the great pain he caused you by leading you on and not only jeopardizing your probable engagement with other potential suitors but also make you the butt of all the apathetic gossip of the older women.

The minute he felt the presence of something brewing between the two of you that felt like it had deeper meanings than what he is accustomed to, he boarded on the first ship to Caribbean, to be as far away for you as he physically can. Only he never underestimated how strong the brewed feeling actually were.

Not one day went on his voyage when he did not think of you, even when he tried his very best to put the you named thought out of his head. Nights of intoxication and passion became a norm for him during his trip and new destinations and people kept him busy.

But still as he looked out of his cabin at the dusky setting sun, he felt the innate need to hold you close to him, to hear you voice calling out to him while he is beneath you making you feel levels of bliss you didn’t know you were capable of experiencing.

So, when he hopped off that ship on the coast of England the only name that echoed in his mind was yours. He knew he had made a mistake, but he had hoped that you would let it slide, that you would take him back into your loving arms like you always did.

But it seems like faith was reluctant to give him a second chance as he noticed you in the first ball of the season and realized that you had been successfully swept off your feet by someone else who was not him. As much as he would have loved to fight for you, he realized he had lost the battle even before it started, when he had left you stranding alone in the park with your bloodied torn heart on the palm of your hand and the emotions slowly bleeding out of your eyes.

Maybe he would have tried to jeopardize your relationship with Jeonghan, if not for the fact the man went ahead and collected all the pieces of your heart and sewed them together for you and filled those eyes that he hollowed out with the most beautiful galaxy that Joshua had ever seen.

Maybe if he had more courage, he would have tried to get you back but he doesn’t so he will stand here and toast you both and make sure his eyes don’t show too much emotions for he still has the reputation of a rake to hold up and rakes don’t cry.

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A/n; again i hope you guys liked it.

#svt #jeonghan #joshua #svt fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt fanfiction #seventeen x you #joshua imagines #joshua fanfic #joshua angst #joshua x reader #joshua x you #excalibur fics #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen joshua #joshua hong

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enihk-writes · 3 months

Text

[before the year ends]

seasonal fics : 除夕 (chú xī) / lunar new year's eve edition

paring: various!hwasan men x gn!reader

summary: things that happen on the last day of the year.

characters: chung myung (can be read as both pbss and mhdd) // chung mun // chung jin // tang bo // tang gunak // jang ilso // jin hyeon // lee songbaek // jin geumryong // baek cheon

author's note: my personal music recommendations for the day are lovers in seoul by off the menu , hot potato by n.flying , coconut love by seoulmoon , mercury by bye bye badman and t + tik tak tok by silica gel feat. So!YoON! (doing this for fun because my other hobby is looking for new music and putting them in a playlist partly because one of my teenage dreams was to open up a cd shop in an art street or own a music-vinyl brunch cafe by the seaside ugggh but you need money like do you know how expensive seaside properties are in singapore!!! i don't have that cash!!! so i have to work!!!! fuck!!!!)

CHUNG MYUNG doesn't like to be cooped up indoors during the festive period. so that afternoon he slipped out to visit the next town over, hearing about their night market and looking forward to getting drunk off his rocker before returning home. only to come face-to-face with you. to his credit he tried to divert your attention to slip away with a bold-faced lie but to be honest, he isn't very good at that. he ends up letting you tag along to buy your silence. which wasn't that bad of a decision — he found himself enjoying the private time he had with you more than he'd expected, like walking through the markets with pinkies interlocked, visiting taverns and teahouses getting mistaken for a couple to get discounts, even the passionate drunken kisses you both shared on the inn balcony which left him quite dazed. when he gets back he would have to have a talk with you about what happened here. though right now he's a little preoccupied with leaving marks all up your neck, hands under your clothes going to places he probably shouldn't, revelling in your embarrassment a little too much. thank goodness he had the foresight to rent out a room to stay in so the both of you could do whatever you wanted in here to the heart's content all night long.

CHUNG MUN watches as you scurry around the sect grounds checking in on the workers who were all preparing for the banquet that was to be held over the new year. as the sect leader he shouldn't interrupt another elder's duties, but as your husband he wanted you to pay attention to him too — it was new years eve and your spouse can't even ask for some alone time with you? you were so cruel, was this how he was to spend the last day of the year? he sighed and turned back to his papers, finishing up with his own work until it was finally time for bed. you met him in the front of your shared house, he finds himself cracking a smile when you bury your face into his chest, he walks you over to sit together on the bench, where you plop your head down on his lap, very much like a certain youngest, pouring your heart out on the annoyances that you've faced today so what has your dear husband have in mind to reward their hardworking partner? the man only chuckles at your ranting, running his fingers until you fell asleep, carrying your tired body to tuck you in bed. he looks over at your peaceful form one more time, kisses your hand and leaves for his own quarters to retire for the night.

CHUNG JIN had been pulled out from under the pile of books he's buried under to take a day off at the behest of the other elders and disciples. not knowing what to do, he hovers around your side, not really wanting to go down the mountain without a solid plan. you thought he looked a little like a lost sparrow then, so you let him stay around as you went about your day. he aided you with small tasks here and there — wasn't he supposed to be on break? old habits die hard, you supposed. he ended up helping you finish your job earlier than intended, bringing the leftovers from the kitchen along, the two of you headed down the forested path at the back of the mountain to wile away the rest of the afternoon as you ate the food and engaged in small talk about nothing in particular. the sun felt warm on your skin, and as it began to set, the sounds of the flowing stream nearby lulled the two elders into a dreamless sleep.

TANG BO stifled a laugh as he looked at your sorry state. only an idiot falls sick on new year's eve — was what he'd told you. you wanted to strangle him right then and there, never mind that he was your husband. he offered to nurse you for the day, supposedly from the kindness of his heart. bullshit. this guy had something up his sleeve, you were so sure of it. but whatever you thought he'd do never happened. your husband truly did take care of you that whole day. he'd wipe off your cold sweat, change towels, feed you food and medication on time, among other things. you thought he'd turn over a new leaf and was just about to praise him when he snickers at you again. maybe you should get sick more often, you're so much nicer when you're quiet like this. too bad for him your fingers were faster as you shove them up his nose to choke him in retaliation. fortune favours the just. the next morning you woke up feeling good as new — your fever had gone away just in time to celebrate the new year. your husband, on the other hand, didn't seem to be doing too well, seemingly catching your cold from yesterday. hmph, serves him right for teasing you like that.

TANG GUNAK could not catch a break even on new year's eve. there was always work to do, the world did not stop on holidays, after all. you slipped into the room quietly with refreshments in hand, hoping to get him to take a short break from his paperwork. the man had sharp ears — recognising the weighted rhythm of your footsteps even as you were on the far end of the hallway. he sets down his brush, getting up to greet you. my love, he'd call out softly, expertly placing away the tray in your hands. you laugh as he pulls you into his embrace, his face burrowing into your shoulder. you try to hug him back with as much vigour you could muster, pulling away just so you could place a few pecks on his face. it wasn't a very long break, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. he sipped on the tea you brewed, listening to your excited recounting of a new novel you had been reading. new years was a time to give thanks for the blessings in life, and he was more than thankful for the way your shoulder felt pressed against his arm as you two sat side by side.

JANG ILSO cared little for the festivities. he wasn't in the mood for any banquet, or party or whatever loud activity. he had been itching to do something, but he couldn't pinpoint what he wanted to do and the idea of going outside annoyed him. you didn't really know, nor cared to find out about your employer's stormy tantrum going on right at that moment. unfortunately for you, you were one of his go-to people to piss off and annoy whenever he wanted to cause trouble. your boss was a temperamental man, and you always walked on eggshells around him. little did you know that you were third on his list of people he liked, so in the off chance that you did piss him off, he wasn't going to get rid of you. not that soon or quickly anyways. he barged into your office with attendants trailing behind him with boxes of drinks, food and entertainment for that evening. he was here to bother you, if you so kindly didn't mind. most of what happened was blurry — you only remembered drinking the sweet wine, going down far too easily, possibly knocking over papers and ink all over your desk and then passing out. the next time you came to, you were in a guest bedroom near your boss' own. the hangover medicine and new clothes already laid out on the table for you. there was no way you had created a moment that your boss could hold over your head as blackmail. no, you detested the teasing that was sure to come from him in the coming year.

JIN HYEON had been out on an errand on behalf of the elders, and finally, he was going back to wudang just in time for new years. he stops by the small diner in the town next door, he often had his meals here whenever he's going out, outwardly he said it's because he liked the lotus root soup with pork ribs served with warm rice. in reality, he just wanted to find a chance to talk to you, the owner — a familiar face he had known since both of you were mere apprentices. though now you had taken over the restaurant your adoptive grandfather had left behind for you while he had risen up to the rank of a second-grade disciple. the diner was small, and the business was decent enough to make ends meet, but it wasn't so busy that you didn't have time to sit across him to have a short chat before he headed off. you asked him if he would stay and visit the night market this year. he shook his head sadly, feeling bad that he was turning down your offer yet again. you shook your disappointment off, opting to change the topic. the hour passed far too quickly, and he had to report back to the elders before night fall. you walk him towards the door, just as the wind picks up from where your back was turned, pushing you into his chest. the man takes the opportunity to pull you a little closer, accidentally placing a peck on your forehead. you didn't think he'd be this affectionate today but who cared? it was new years eve and it's been a while since he had walked you home. maybe next year you could ask him again to come with you to the night market.

LEE SONGBAEK had gone to his hometown for the new year celebrations. he had been given permission by the elders to do so, along with a good majority of the other disciples. things had been really quiet back in the sect with nobody really wanting to do anything with them. speaking of which, he hadn't seen his family in years by now, and he wondered how they were all doing. he didn't plan to spend too much time — have dinner, catch up, stay overnight and leave the next morning. he didn't expect to see that you would also be in his house, helping out with the new year's eve dinner. he could smell the dough and sesame paste drying out in the sun for the tang-yuan they'd all have later. actually, he thinks most of the village was congregated at his house. the disciples who had tagged along with him were a little taken aback at the size of the crowd, much to his embarrassment. he didn't think his village would be so stoked to have him back on new years with his sect brothers. you slipped out of the kitchen to greet him as the elders fussed over the boys that had come to visit. he leans over to greet you, feeling a small smile pull at his lips when you tousle his hair. his original plan might have been a little thwarted, but since you were here, he didn't really mind. ah, when he goes back to the sect, he should ask if the tailor was accepting any apprentices — if he were, and you came over, he might see you around more often in the coming year.

JIN GEUMRYONG wished he was anywhere else but here right now. but, as the eldest and prodigal son he should behave appropriately. he slips out of the banquet hall at the first opportunity, making shoddy excuses like needing to go to the restroom. he finds a spot in the quietest part of the estate, taking a moment to collect himself from the incessant social interaction he's had the whole day. soft footsteps approach him — really? he feels annoyed, but tries to reign back his distaste when he sees your smiling face beaming at him. go away. he tells you, not in the mood to deal with whatever you were about to drag him into. please? you'd beg, your hand pulling at his arm to get him on his feet. there was something you wanted to show him, and if he didn't go with you now, he was going to miss it! the man agreed reluctantly, letting you take him to the lake behind the hills. the night sky was clear and he could see every sparkling star in the sky. you sit on a fallen log, seemingly waiting for something to happen. he sits right by you, choosing not to question your actions. and then — there it was. the stars fell from the sky one after another, painting the night in long white painter's lines. he'd never seen anything like this in his life thus far, and he might not ever see it again. but it didn't matter. when you asked, doesn't it look amazing? he could only hum, unable to take his eyes off you all while your gaze was turned to the spectacle in the skies.

BAEK CHEON, for the life of him, can't decide which tassel he wanted to buy and ended up just getting a roll of thread in plum-blossom pink to make one on his own. the handiwork was clumsy, clearly amateurish with the bronze coin woven into the accessory. it certainly resembled the shape of a tassel — if you didn't look at the finer details too closely and for too long. you could see him look embarrassed at the quality and was already regretting giving it to you. but how could you not want his sincere gift? you loved it, flaws and all, because it was from him and you wanted to be reminded of the idea that this perfectionist still could make mistakes. you pull him down for a kiss. and then another. and another, until you were peppering his whole face in kisses because your heart couldn't handle this gap in his personality. your poor love, look at how red his face had become. he didn't know whether to be happy that you liked his gift this much, or feel shy at the public show of affection in a place where everyone in the sect could possibly see? you can't help but snicker mischievously as you skipped away from the scene — leaving the poor boy in a flustered mess.

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