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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months

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Power

Katie McCabe x Reader

Summary: You and Katie both know who really holds the power

It was always funny to see the two of you together, going back as far as your childhood.

Katie had always been the more tomboyish of the pair of you, always up to wrestle with the older kids or go careening down the hill on her bike. You were slower in comparison, taking your time and amusing yourself by playing clapping games or making daisy chains.

You shouldn't have worked as well as you did but it must have been fate.

When Katie moved to England, you came with her. There was never any debate about it. Wherever she went, you went.

Football was her passion and you were happy to go along for the ride. She'd found a home at Arsenal and you were more than happy to tag along.

You worked at the local florist, surrounded by flowers everyday. You had beehives at the back of the garden. Your backyard was picture perfect and you grew your own fruits and vegetables.

No one expected someone like you to be engaged to someone like Katie.

"Mate," Leah said as she relaxed back in her seat," Your girl's a dream. I mean, what can't she do?"

Katie tilted her head back so she could peer into the kitchen where you were sectioning out the cake you'd made earlier.

It wasn't often that you two hosted bonding nights but, when you did, everyone came along. Your Pa was a chef so you'd picked up a few things along the way.

Your meals were the stuff of legend between the Arsenal team, with the experience being passed down from older teammates to younger ones as they all sat waiting for the invitation.

"Nothing," Katie replied as you momentarily got distracted by rearranging the bouquet that lived on the windowsill.

"You hit the jackpot," Jen said," I mean, I don't know how you control yourself. If I had a girl like that to come home to everyday, I'd never leave the bed."

"Hey!" Katie said, shoving her friend," She's my fiancée! Not yours!"

Jen laughed, tipping her head back. "I'm just saying! Come on, Katie, you can't say that you've never considered just skipping practice."

Katie winked. "I never said that. I just said to stop fantasising about my girl!"

"So you would stay in bed with her all the time?" Leah teased.

Katie smirked. "You know I would but you know," She shrugged," One of us has to be the breadwinner." She flexed jokingly. "I make enough that she could be my pretty housewife if she really wanted to."

"Real macho, McCabe," Leah said," You're forgetting we once saw you drop a weight on your foot. You're not that smooth."

"I think y/n would disagree with you there." Katie winked. "I'm super smooth. It's why she fell in love with me."

"She fell in love with you because you seduced her, I reckon. All this power is going to your head. Occasional Arsenal captain, Ireland captain and now you're saying you're the man of the house."

"I'm absolutely saying that." Katie flexed again. "I mean, check out these muscles."

"Alright," Jen laughed," Put those guns away before you take someone's eye out."

Admittedly, Katie knew she was talking like she was some kind of hormonal uni boy but she couldn't help herself. She was completely relaxed here, in her own home with her teammates scattered around and you serving everyone cake. She was definitely bigging herself up here but she didn't want to lose face in front of her friends, especially as you breezed back into the room with pre-sliced cake and a pile of plates.

"I hope you're all able to eat this," You said," I know you're meant to be on diets but, surely, you can cheat for the day."

Katie grinned, drunk on the feeling of puffed up pride at everyone's compliments about you. She stood and rested her hand a little too low on your ass to be decent in public.

"Course we can, babe," She said, emboldened by the way you didn't say anything as she squeezed lightly," Everyone loves your baking."

You sent her an unreadable look but allowed her touching, helping everyone get a slice before settling on her lap in the loveseat.

Katie smirked at Jen and Leah, who were sending her similar cocky looks, and she finally moved her hand from your ass to rest splayed out on your hip, dragging you ever closer.

You fed Katie bites of your own slice automatically as she sat manspread on the loveseat, still talking amongst her teammates.

When there was a lull in the conversation, you brought your lips to her ear.

"Vey macho, Katie," You said, watching her throat bob in horror when she realised that you had heard everything," A real man of the house."

"Babe," She murmured back, eyes darting back and forth between everyone to make sure none of them were looking," I-"

"I'm not going to say anything," You said, shutting her up by pressing another forkful of cake into her mouth," I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of all of the new signings."

"Babe," She said again, shifting a bit uncomfortably as you put more food into her mouth.

"Shh," You said softly," Don't talk just yet." You leaned a bit closer, putting the plate down on your lap so you had a hand free to push Katie's hand to grip your hip harder. "You have your fun showing off for your friends. You do whatever you want but let me make this clear. If you have to be reminded who's really in charge here then I will make sure to remind you. Understand?"

"I understand."

"Good." You smiled and drew away, picking up the plate and nudging Katie's lips with a cake filled fork again. "Open up, baby. I spent a lot of time on this. Make sure to eat your fill."

#woso x reader #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 3 months

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Can Elle Woods (Legally Blonde) survive Dracula's castle?

My conviction is that Elle can survive anything life throws at her by the power of being smart, hardworking and a Delta Nu. But I think she actually has a few things working in her favour:

She's the sweetest. Would totally work on Dracula and would make her take the crucifix. The only downside I am seeing here is that she might appeal too much to Dracula, but I am sure she has had to put her foot down vis-a-vis unwanted advances several times in her life and knowing her, she somehow manages that without antagonising anyone.

She's a lawyer. I have to admit I am not that well-versed in the lore, but vampires have rules, right? She would totally work them out quickly and use them to her advantage because that is what she does. Also, she is very good in (cross-)examination, she'd get Dracula to spill the beans the moment she arrives (This movie ends with Elle giving Dracula legal advice btw)

She's a feminist. The vampire girls want to eat her and instead she tells them about their rights and how to rally against Dracula, probably proposes to be their advocate, too. Also teaches them the bend-and-snap and exchanges skin-care routines.

She does cardio. Might not be enough to survive climbing a wall, actually, but Elle is fit. She can run fast and I am sure she has the upper arm strength to hold herself on a wall for a moment at least.

Warner Huntington III. While he is not deserving of it, Elle loves Warner passionately. She got into Harvard for him. She's getting out of the castle for him, too. (Post-Legally Blonde Elle is getting out of the castle for Emmet, that works just as well if not better, because here she knows he loves her back.)

Bruiser. Elle likes and knows dogs. She's totally taking her chance with the wolves rather than vampires.

One thing working against her, is that Elle thrives in community. The whole movie/musical is about empowering yourself while empowering others. Elle gets a lot of strength out of her friendship with Paulette and the other students she grows closer to, in the end even from Vivian. Here, she would be alone. But, like, in the movie she starts out alone as well and then forges a new community. I kinda feel like she would try that as well, either with the townfolk or the vampires themselves. I am not sure how much that would help/be possible, but the effort would definitely be there.

So, alltogether, I would say Elle Woods can survive the castle.

(Elle when someone confronts her about having survived Dracula: What, like it's hard?)

Ooooooh this IS a good one

I love the idea of Elle trying to recruit the Girlies. They're already pretty keen on Sisterhood and respect each other whole lot more than they respect Dracula. They also are completely unabashed about eating people, especially new lawyers who are young and full of energy, but if anyone can turn them it's probably Elle.

One question I have is how she will deal with Dracula's excessive handsiness. She's not the type to tolerate creeps. On the other hand, she may have enough experience to recognize what kind of creep you can safely put in his place vs what kind of creep will kill you if cross him. Dracula is definitely the second kind. Similarly, she is frequently underestimated, but she doesn't like being underestimated. I am not recalling to what extent she is willing to play into the stereotypes for strategic advantage. If she is, that will heighten her chances for survival, but also heighten her chances of just being nommed as an ingenue.

I agree that the isolation will suck for her, especially if she can't build community with the Girlies. But her skills at community building and making connections will help her keep Dracula entertained and talking for two months. She'll learn more about the history of Transylvania than anyone wants to know and she'll retain it.

I feel the need to point out that choosing the wolves means dying. The question is will she walk out and get devoured to make her point, or will she back down and decide to stay after all? I feel like she's the type to deliberately do the unexpected to keep her opponents off guard, but I'm not sure which result that yields.

If she does stay, I am actually very confident in her ability to make it down the wall. She's reasonably fit and she doesn't give up, and given the heels she wears she must have ankles of steel.

Trying to out rules lawyer Dracula is a very dangerous game. She is smart though, and persuasive.

I think she probably can survive, but only if she doesn't confront him about being a total creeper, and that's the part I am undecided on

#Legally Blonde #Elle Woods #lawyers

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catt-leya · 10 months

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wicked || rick grimes x negan x fem!reader

Me: I've never written anything like this before...soooo it's a little experiment 💗

summary: negan has a crush on your boyfriend, so you decide to spice your sex life up...

warnings: claiming, dirty talk, sharing a girl, hints of male x male (nothing specific just some simping over rick) and my usual smutty stuff

As you've been doing for several weeks now, you wander around Alexandria with your lunch in your bowl, heading for a very specific building.

It has become a kind of routine that you actually wouldn't want to miss.

The sun warms your bare shoulders and your eyes roam over the place you call home.

A lot has changed since you first set foot behind the height walls.

So much.

And yet it feels like you've been here forever.

The people transporting crops to trade with other groups, the beautiful fields of flowers, and the couple kissing in the warmth of the sun.

Sighing contentedly, you continue on your way and descend the stairs to a cell.

Using the key you took from your house, you unlock the door and call out, "Hi there, I'm back," into the room.

There is a small window that barely lets in enough light to see the room as a whole, but it also makes it much cooler, and you step into the room to close the door behind you.

Immediately your eyes fall on the chair that's in the exact same spot you left it yesterday and your free hand slides over the grate on your right before you sit down on the chair facing the grate and a deep voice reaches your ear, "Shit, sweetie, I thought you weren't coming to see me today."

Grinning, you pull your legs up onto the seat and reach for the spoon in the bowl, "Did you miss me?"

In fact, you were actually scheduled to run errands outside today, but it was rescheduled on short notice and so now you can come visit him after all.

In the shadows of the cell, he slides closer to you, "Fuck yeah."

You laugh softly and he is now so close to the bars of the cell that you can make out his face.

Who would have thought you would get along so well with Negan?

You'd even say you were friends.

As you hear footsteps outside, your eyes dart nervously to the door and you hear your counterpart laugh harshly, "Ohho, is my little girl afraid that the big bad wolf is going to come get her and punish her for talking to someone else?"

Snorting, you roll your eyes and growl, "Not true at all."

Negan's eyes flash dangerously, "He doesn't want you to come visit me, right? After all, he barely comes down to see me himself."

The look he gives you makes you raise your eyebrows.

You've noticed it before, and every time you talk about Rick.

"You think about Rick a lot, huh?" you try to put it across teasingly, but when he flinches and growls, "You're just thinking about him. Especially since he's your lover."

He's got a point.

Rick is your boyfriend, but still, Negan seems to have a weird sort of obsession with Rick, and you bite your lower lip, "You sure we're not similar there?"

It's a little banter between friends and before Negan can say anything back, the door is yanked open and Rick comes marching in, "Love? You're down here again."

His body shields most of the light coming through the door and you have to blink a few times to get used to the new lighting conditions, "Yeah. Need me?"

Briefly, Rick's gaze darts to Negan's cell before he sighs, "I'd like to fix the railing behind our house and I could use your help."

Smiling, you stand up and set your bowl down on the chair before walking over to your boyfriend and giving him a quick kiss.

Rick's hands gently slide onto your butt and you turn to Negan to say goodbye, that's when you see the look he's giving you.

At first you think it's jealous of Rick that he can just touch your butt like that, but as you're about to tease him about it, you realize you're completely wrong.

He's staring at Rick.

Not because he's jealous of him.

No, he's jealous of you.

Shit, now you get it.

It makes sense.

Every time he asked about Rick.

Every time he sought Rick's proximity during the war.

Every ambiguous line was meant to be taken seriously.

Negan has a crush on Rick and the only thing that slips past your lips is, "Shit, we're actually alike. At least we have the same taste."

Immediately Negan jerks his head around and stares at you almost pleadingly as Rick asks harshly, "What are you talking about, love?"

Your eyes are glued to Negan and you can't suppress a wide grin at all, which only makes the man in the cell more panicked.

Negan doesn't want Rick to know.

He definitely doesn't want him to.

So you raise an eyebrow and murmur sugary-sweet, "We like the same kind of books."

You can literally see the tension drain from Negan's shoulders and he leans back.

In the end, he's kind of a friend of yours, and it's not your place to tell Rick that Negan has a crush on him.

Gently, Rick pulls you toward the exit, "Come on."

But you break away from him and as you reach for your bowl, you give Negan a quick wink before following Rick out.

In fact, maybe you should be upset that Negan has a crush on your boyfriend, but somehow you think it's cute and maybe you feel a little sorry for Negan because Rick just doesn't like him that way. He still just barely tolerates him.

The next day, you practically sprint to Negan's cell and when he sees you sigh, "Sweetie, don't ask."

Grinning, you stop, "I'm not asking you. I'm stating."

You lean against the bars, "You have a crush on my boyfriend."

Your grin widens even more, "Do you want to fuck him, or do you want him to fuck you?"

You tease him further, "I could describe to you what it's like to be taken by him."

Silently, the man in the cell stares at you and you tease further, "You know, Rick is not a gentle man. He can be caring, but never really gentle."

Negan's gaze is anything but impassive and you purr, "He's always beating himself into me. God, he fills me up so well. He's so heavy and hard inside me, I can hardly form another thought."

"Stop it," his voice is rough and a first response to your words.

Your gaze darts over him and you see his half-hard cock showing in his pants, "Does it turn you on?"

Negan avoids your gaze and murmurs again, "Stop it."

An idea comes to you.

It's whacky, but why wouldn't it work?

You bite your lower lip, "You want Rick to touch you? I could make it work."

Immediately Negan jerks his head up at you and the small hope in his gaze, makes you smile broadly again, "He won't jerk you off, but he'll talk to you and you'll be able to feel his hands on your body if you want him to."

So far, he hasn't confirmed with a word that he wants Rick.

Until now.

"How are you going to make that work. Rick's not into guys, or at least not into me, sweetie," he looks up at you and you let your hands slide over the bars, "You're fucking me."

Negan chokes on his own spit, "What?"

"Are you able to get hard so you can fuck me? Rick would be there the whole time. You can look at him, but you have to be able to stay hard inside me," the idea picks up steam in your head and Negan repeats, "Fuck, what are you talking about?"

Your gaze slides back to his crotch, "Rick always wanted to let another man fuck me while he watched. We just never got around to it. If you can fuck me, then I can get Rick to let you out of the cell for it."

He looks at you dumbly.

He stares at you.

You don't think he's going to answer anymore.

Then he says, "Yes."

A single word that changes so much and gets you hot right away.

Negan is a handsome man and with Rick's instructions, it's going to be a brilliant fuck.

"I'll get Rick," with those words you turn and leave Negan's cell.

As you open the proposal to Rick, the first thing he mumbles is, "Negan?"

You nod, "Yes. Why not? I'd feel better if it wasn't necessarily a friend here from Alexandria."

It's a bit of a lie, maybe, because you'd do it yourself with Daryl as long as Rick was around and he liked getting you laid, too.

Rick's beautiful blue eyes glisten in the light of the sun and his eyes slide over your body, "Don't let him cum inside you."

You nod and he grabs your chin, "He's not touching you and he's just fucking you. That's all. No kissing and not a word from him."

If only Rick knew that Negan wants to touch and kiss him and not you.

So you nod and he pulls you up on your toes to kiss you hard.

Even when Rick lets another man fuck you, he always makes it clear that you belong to him and no one else.

The fact is, you already know that no one will be able to fuck you like that.

Rick is one of a kind and he knows it.

With Rick in tow, you re-enter the anteroom of Negan's cell and immediately he looks up. Negan's eyes dart from you to Rick and back to you again, staying glued on you even as Rick walks to his cell door and unlocks it.

Negan doesn't budge and now stares at Rick, who asks surprisingly calmly, "You want to fuck her?"

You know full well he doesn't care much about your pussy, but as you expect, he nods and Rick takes a step back to give him enough room to squeeze past him.

With no cell between you, Negan stands in front of you at his full height and looks back at Rick.

Very close, your boyfriend stands in front of Negan and looks up at him.

Negan is taller than Rick.

Not by much, but enough that Rick has to turn his pretty blue eyes up a bit.

If you looked up that way, it would come across as submissive, but that's not the case with Rick at all.

The size difference doesn't matter at all because Rick radiates pure superiority.

Tensely, you look back and forth between the two men as Rick says again in that creepily calm tone of voice, "You don't touch her or speak a word to her and don’t even think about cumming inside of her. You just fuck her, understand?"

Again, Negan nods and Rick stops in front of him for a few more seconds, stabbing him with his gaze.

He's probably wondering why the usually articulate Negan is suddenly so unnaturally quiet and submissive.

Also, how would Rick know that it's the chance of a lifetime for Negan to finally have at least a part of Rick.

Then Rick nods too and turns to you, "Are you okay with this?"

Your heart is pounding to your throat, but you respond with, "Yes, Rick."

Without another word, he turns his back on both of you and walks to the small table in the corner of the room.

In that small moment when Rick turns his attention away from you, you look at Negan to read what he might be thinking.

But as you turn your eyes to him, you realize how idiotic the attempt is, because he's staring so openly at Rick that you briefly wonder how it could be that you never noticed it until now, and especially how it could be that Rick, hasn't noticed it until now.

The scraping of the table legs being dragged across the floor focuses your attention on the man with the blue eyes.

He pulls the table into the center of the room and then comes back toward you, pulling you against his chest.

His familiar warmth passes over to you and he leans in to kiss you softly on your slightly parted lips.

Rick always feels so good.

So incredibly good.

As he slowly but firmly leads you to the edge of the table and you whimper softly into the loving kiss as he lifts you by your hips onto the edge.

Immediately you open your legs for him and like the well-rehearsed team that you are, he gets between them and presses his crotch against yours.

Negan is forgotten for a brief moment, but then you get an idea.

In the end, you want him to like it, so you break away from Rick, breathing heavily, and reach for his belt.

Confused, he looks at you, "What are you doing?"

Under your lashes, you dare a shy glance at Negan, who stares at your hands as you undo Rick's belt, "May I?"

Now Rick looks even more confused, "Are you asking me if you can jerk me off?"

Lasciviously you look up at him, "Yes?"

A harsh laugh slips from his throat, "Love, you can jerk me off whenever you want and you know it."

Slowly, you undo the button of his pants and pull them down enough for you to pull his hardening cock out of his pants.

At the first contact with your hand, Rick flinches and braces himself next to you on the table.

With skillful movements, you run your hand along his cock and, breathing heavily, he presses his face against your neck, giving us the opportunity to look unhindered at Negan.

As you have already expected, his hard-on stands out in his pants and his eyes are literally glued to your hand.

Restlessly Negan steps from one leg to the other and when he finally looks you in the eye, Rick moans softly and you tell Negan to come a little closer.

Quietly Negan takes a small step toward you and Rick and still with his face buried against your neck Rick growls, "Oh fuck."

His thick cock twitches in your hand and he pushes his hips harder against you, but you let go, whereupon he jerks his head up.

His curls fly in every conceivable direction at the movement, and as he looks at you accusingly, you realize he's completely forgotten that Negan is still there, too, and your pussy is so fucking wet you desperately need a cock inside you.

Rick is generally a man who always cares more about your pleasure and satisfaction than his own, but right now his head seems to have completely shut off.

He stares at you like he's surprised to see you before shaking his head and muttering, "You're right. Sorry."

He slides his hands over your bare legs, which are not covered by your shorts, and you automatically spread your legs even wider for him, but he steps back, "Negan?"

Rick's accent is much wider than usual with arousal and as he pulls his pants up over his hard cock, Negan moves even closer.

Your boyfriend doesn't even bother to close his pants as he looks to the man in the background, "Come here."

You look to Negan as Rick grabs your neck and steps completely out of your legs and past the table to your right, pushing you back against the table in this way.

The surprised sound catches in your throat as he squeezes a little tighter, watching Negan move to stand in his place between your legs.

Your eyes dart back and forth from the man behind you and in front of you, and suddenly you feel hot.

In Rick's eyes you can see that he's going to go through with it, and up until this point you didn't really believe it was going to happen.

But as Rick walks past you again on the other side and sets your legs up to pull your pants off along with your panties, you know that Negan is going to fuck you and Rick is going to stand there and watch him do it.

Rick's warm palm slides over your bare hip and you feel so exposed you try to squeeze your legs together, but Rick reads your body faster and grabs your knees.

Gripping the edge of the table with your sweaty hands, you don't resist as Rick steps behind you again and leans forward a bit to pull your knees toward him and press them against your chest.

Wide open you lie in front of the two men and as a slight breeze passes through the room you feel how wet you are already, even though hardly anything has happened.

You can imagine what the two men see just in front of them and how your pussy must glisten for them.

Because Rick has to bend so far forward, your nose is pressed against his chest when you try to look up, so you have no choice but to look between your wide spread legs at Negan, seeing Rick's beard in the corner of your eye.

Rick prepares you for Negan and then looks at him, "Go. Fuck my girlfriend. Her pussy is wet enough."

He talks like you're just a piece of meat to him and unfortunately for you, it turns you on and you start squirming in his grip.

"Take your fucking pants off and stuff her cunt," Rick's voice is low and Negan stands there completely frozen.

It's weird to see Negan like this, and as Negan moves even closer to you, you know why he's being so weird.

If he's screwing you, then he's forced to stand practically nose to nose with Rick.

There would be inches separating them.

You can feel both men on your body and it makes you way too weak.

Especially when Negan reaches into his pants and pulls his hard cock out of his pants.

Roughly, you groan at the sight and your pussy pulses around the yawning emptiness inside you.

Negan's cock is thick and rock hard.

You realize he's not hard because of you, but somehow it turns you on even more that Rick is turning him on and he's going to sink his cock inside you anyway.

As agreed, without saying a word or touching you, he puts his cock to your pussy and you whimper Rick's name.

"Shhh, I know love. Let him in," Rick's grip tightens as Negan pushes his tip inside you and you rebel with a moan.

Negan's eyes are dark and a rough growl comes from his throat.

He may want Rick, but your pussy must feel heavenly to him.

So good that he thrusts into you to the hilt and you moan hoarsely.

Sluggishly, you disengage your hands from the edge of the table and reach into Rick's shirt instead.

His scent fills your nose as Negan thrusts into you again and a soft "fuck" slips across his lips.

When Rick is probably sure you're going to stay down, he lets go of you and tugs your hands off his shirt, "Let go, love."

Groaning, you let go and tear your eyes open as he walks around you to stand next to Negan.

Immediately, he jerks his head around and you feel his cock twitch violently inside you as Rick puts a hand on his shoulder and whispers, "Harder."

You'd give a lot to know what Negan is thinking about at this moment.

Just as Rick has demanded of him, his thrusts become harder and more impatient.

He even slips in rhythm as Rick disappears behind him for a moment, only to reappear on the other side next to him and goes to your face again.

Slowly, he leans over you and places his lips on yours parted by moans, "You're doing good, love. So, so good."

Negan moans, "Oh shit" As Rick looks him in the eye while he kisses you and lets your hand move between your legs.

The thought that it's someone else's hand stroking your clit than the cock that's inside you makes you arch your back and because Rick's hand is way too close to Negan's cock, you both cum at the same time.

At the last second he pulls his cock out of you and his hot cum spurts onto your stomach.

It just rolls over you and you and Negan cum because of one and the same man.

Frantically you grab Rick's crotch with your head still somewhere else and howl, "Let me suck."

You barely catch Rick pressing his tip between your lips and you start sucking.

You suck as hard as you can while Negan's trembling body leans against yours and his cock rests heavily on your belly.

Hoarsely, Rick just keeps bringing out how beautiful you are and how good you are to him.

He approves every stroke of your lazy tongue and as he comes in your mouth you swallow it all, down to the last drop.

Rick's cum down your throat and Negan's spread across your belly.

It's so fucking wicked and yet you miss Negan's body as again he staggers and takes a few steps back.

Gratefully, you look at your boyfriend and he tilts his head, "I know why you wanted Negan."

You hear Negan take a frantic breath, but Rick's eyes are only on you as he mutters, "Don't think I don't notice when someone drives themselves to orgasm because of me."

Only now does he look at Negan, "And today, two people came because of me."

Taglist: @hail-yourselves @bean-is-reading @chanlvr2 @criminalwalkingsupernatural @sunshinevirus @toxic-ink @kingtwhiddleston @bloodycherry22 @vane28282 @bamslover @revesephemeres @emo-potato-virgil @mrsashleybarnes18-blog @starsaroundmyscxrss @starkstiless @easystreet07 @darylsonlylove @your-shifting-gurl @strnqer @dreamtofus @lincolnswidow@rickswh0r3 @iluvdixon @sinsandsweetness @beekassyy@blazeemma @littlelovingideas @eternalrose81 @stickyfaceinternet

#rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x negan x reader #negan x reader #twd #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #twd x reader #the walking dead #negan smut #negan smith #negan x rick

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luveline · 11 months

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Hi! Could you please write a daddy-daughter day with Roan and Eddie? Like Eddie and Roan listening to Eddie's music, going to Wayne's, and just doing cute things like when Reader went out with her friends please?

hi sweetheart yes I can, I loved this idea, tyty! dad!eddie x fem!reader, 3k (cw reader is tipsy at the end)

"Okie-smokie," you say, standing at the door with two options. "Ro, pink or silver?"

You show Roan your earrings. Eddie crams his foot into his sneaker and ties the laces, listening as Roan deliberates your two choices. "I think you should wear the pink ones because you have pink gems on your bracelet."

He can hear your smile. "I think so too. Thank you, lovely girl."

"Roan, you have your shoes on still?" Eddie asks, toeing into his second shoe. He stands tall when he's done and brushes down his jeans. "Coat?"

"I don't know where my coat is," she says.

"I'll get it," you say. "It's in our room."

"Okay. You have your purse?" Eddie asks.

You laugh as you run up the stairs. "Stop doing your dad checklist! We have everything."

Roan waits by the door in what Eddie believes to be her nicest outfit ever. He's been experimenting with elaborate hairstyles, and this one takes the cake.

He'd woken her up early for a shower and washed her hair, some tactile bonding to start what's looking to be a great day. She'd nearly fallen back asleep, and again when he was drying it with the cold diffuser. After that he sectioned it and pulled two triangular sections from the front backward, and with the help of four rubber bands and a little bit of hair mousse, he secured it out of her face, curled and pretty.

She's wearing a short-sleeved white t-shirt under stiff black dungarees with black sneakers. You suggested white sneakers, but Eddie joked that he wouldn't make her look too perfect (her white sneakers are full of mud from when they went looking for frogs last weekend, and he hasn't told you yet).

"Hey, can you get her, uh, her blue jacket? The navy one? I think her vinyl coat will be too uncomfortable with the short sleeves."

You appear on the top step already holding it. "I'm psychic."

Once Roan has been helped into her coat and Eddie's made sure you both have money and water, he locks the door to your (his) house with his key. It took him a long time to start calling it his house. Not that he ever thought you'd shoot him out of it. So far, there hasn't been a day since you got together where he worried it wouldn't last.

And here the kissing begins.

You might pretend otherwise, but Eddie knows you're jealous of today. Not in a cruel way, the envy isn't eating you alive or anything, but he knows you wishes you could come, and he also knows you know that's not how these kinds of days work. If you're with them, Eddie would have to share his attention. Alone with Roan, he can pour it all in. You're not so codependent as to resent that, and you're happy for them. But again, you're jealous.

"Why did I make plans?" you ask him, your hands bunched in his t-shirt.

"Because you'll have fun," he says, dipping his head down to kiss you.

You smile and lift one shoulder. "I will. You have fun too, okay?" You bend at the waist to kiss Roan's cheek. After a moment, you kiss the other. "My big girl, you look so grown up today, we should've taken more photos."

"I think ten was enough," Roan says.

"It wasn't," you and Eddie say at the same time. You sigh morosely, though it's not entirely genuine.

"Okay, I love you both. Say hi to Uncle Wayne for me."

"We love you," Eddie says. You pout and get in your car. You've parked behind him, so they stand waving at you as you leave. "She loves you so much," Eddie says to Roan.

Roan shrugs her shoulders, pleased and trying to be humble about it. "Dad," she grumbles.

He puts Roan in her car seat and they drive to Uncle Wayne's for lunch. It's not far, but it's enough to listen to Roan's tape, featuring her current favourite song, a nonsensical rock song called 'She Don't Use Jelly' by The Flaming Lips. It's not Eddie's taste but it's worth it just to listen to Roan shouting along to the song, her building excitement before she gets to sing, "He uses maaaa-gazines!"

After that is Sheryl Crow. Eddie wants to switch the tape to something harder but Roan's already singing, and it's so funny to hear her sing 'All I Wanna Do' that he can't make himself change it. He rolls down the windows so she can feel the wind on her face and she dances in her seat, tripping over the words with gusto.

Sheryl Crow is all your influence. As soon as the song ends he pops the tape and drives the car at a crawl. He's had Roan's favourite, and then yours, but now it's time for real music. He isn't raising no prep.

Roan is more than used to rock music. She loves it most of the time, though her taste complicates as she ages. Eddie puts on a tape you made him painstakingly at Christmastime full of ripped live performances, the sort of music you can't find on CD yet. The very first song is 'Sad But True', Metallica live from Mexico, '93. Roan bobs her head up and down with the beat. Eddie literally could not be more proud, better when she pulls out her air guitar and challenges him on who's best.

After almost crashing the car into the picnic bench on Wayne's front yard, Eddie pulls Roan out, and grins as she races up the steps to the door. She doesn't knock —Wayne's home is Eddie's home is her home.

"Uncle Wayne!" she bellows.

The smell of sausages and fried onions is inescapable. Eddie loves Wayne, and he loves his extra special hotdogs, but he can already sense the mess Roan's about to make. Ketchup stains have defeated half her wardrobe over the years.

Wayne's turning from the stove with a huge grin. He wipes his hands on a rag and chucks it at the counter, bending down with his arms opening to catch Roan as she sprints at him.

"Oh," he groans, "Hi, Roanie. Where have you been? I told your dad eleven thirty, and it's almost twelve."

"We had to help Y/N find her nice pants," she says, wrapping her arms around Wayne's neck.

Wayne gives her a grandfatherly squeeze, adoring but nonchalant.

"We didn't have to help," Eddie says, "but she made breakfast, so it would've been mean to not help."

"Still sounds like dad's fault," Wayne says. "Yeah?"

"Yes," Roan says, turning in Wayne's arms to beam at her betrayed father.

Wayne kisses her head and puts her down. He asks how you are, to which Eddie can answer honestly. You're good, and you're very happy lately making wedding arrangements even though you don't know what you're doing for lots of it. Roan is still torn on whether she wants to be the best man or the maid of honour. You'd been winning, until Eddie told her she could still wear a dress as best man.

The hotdogs are ready for eating straight away. Unlike Eddie, Wayne is prepared for Roan's mess. He pins a bib around her that he's had since she was two with a rabbit on the front. It should've been trashed a while ago, but in a show of quiet love, Wayne scrubs it spotless every single time she wears it. The white background is still a bright white.

They eat hot dogs and talk about nothing. Wayne and Eddie see each other every single day, but Wayne and Roan definitely don't. Now that she's getting older, there's been talks of consistent sleepovers. Eddie doesn't want Wayne to spend all week in work and then have her on the weekend because, while she is an absolute delight, Roan is also hard work, and especially on Fridays when she's tired. But Wayne wants to have her, and Roan loves him more than anything, so sooner or later Eddie's going to have to say yes.

He won't lie, he could use the break. But not tonight.

"Dad," Roan says, fried onions and bread falling down her front and back onto her plate.

"Yes, my rude girl?"

She licks her lips. Wayne tilts her head back to wipe her mouth clean with a paper towel. "Thank you, Uncle Wayne. Dad, can we get a movie tonight?"

"Yeah, babe, we can get a movie, but I thought you wanted to go to the Hawk?"

"There's no space for talking in the Hawk."

"And you want to talk to me," he summarises.

"Duh. Wayne, can I have more smustard, please?" she asks through chews.

Wayne meets Eddie's eyes as he squirts mustard on her hotdog. It's a look Eddie didn't know he wanted to see until Wayne started giving it, a mixture of she's funny and you're raising a good one, kid.

Eddie cleans up the hotdog mess before Wayne can stop him and they dawdle, not wanting to leave but with things to do. They're ten minutes late for their manicure appointments.

The Hawkins manicurists are slightly judgemental middle-aged women who love Roan. They've seen her a couple of times, once when Eddie had been on a few dates with you but was far from your boyfriend, and Roan wanted, "Pretty nails, like Y/N," after she'd seen your painted nails for a wedding, and then a couple of times after with you, but it's been a while since he was here, and the new young nail technician surprises Eddie.

"Hi," she says, smiling at Roan, "I know you, don't I? You and your mom came in a couple of weeks ago. How did your gems last?"

"They came off when we went waterfall walking," Roan says, sounding exuberantly pleased by this.

"Wow, waterfall walking, that sounds fun!"

"Yes!"

Eddie grabs Roan under the armpits to help her into the tall chair. "It was fun until her wellies split. She had cold feet."

"Oh no. What do we want today, miss adventurer? The same as last time, or are we trying something new?"

Roan looks up at Eddie. He takes a seat beside her, her coat in his lap. "Whatever you want, Ro. No, um, extensions though."

"No, I wouldn't suggest it," says the nail tech. "Maybe I can show you some pictures and you can see if you like something? I can do whatever you want me to."

Roan ends up asking for nails that look like the ocean. The nail technician is an artist, creating a beautiful illusion of real water on her nails, and colourful sea creatures on the nails big enough to accommodate them.

"Are you bringing your wife back soon?" the nail tech asks, covering Roan's skin with her hand as her nails cure under a UV lamp.

"She's not married, yet," Roan says.

"She's my fiancé," Eddie says mildly. He kind of liked wife better. "And she doesn't let me spoil her often, so probably not."

"She couldn't stop talking about you," the nail tech says. "And you," —she nods at Roan— "I was kind of jealous. I'm still jealous. I hope my baby comes out as pretty as you."

"You're having a baby?" Roan asks, gasping, almost knocking over the UV lamp.

"I am! Yeah, I am, she's not coming anytime soon though. But by Christmas I'll have her." The nail tech brings a buffing file to Roan's pinky finger and sands against the edge gently. "She better be as nice as you, miss adventurer."

"I think Ro might be one of a kind," Eddie says.

Roan smiles at him as though he's hung the moon.

They visit the video store after the nail salon, hand in hand. Roan is more than ecstatic at the aquarium on her nails, and it's making her sweet. She walks as close to Eddie as she can without stepping on his shoes, and doesn't let go for anything. Or, almost anything.

"Steve!" she shouts when she sees him, Harrington himself bent over the kids aisle arranging movies.

"Oh, no," he groans. Roan runs full pelt at him and he pretends to almost fall over. Roan laughs and tugs him back up, and he says thank you with a short hug. "Hi, Roan." He looks up to see Eddie, and glares with a mock disdain. "You. Where's my spirit level?"

"Your–" Eddie's lips part, and then snap shut. "My bad, Stevie. I still have it, I swear."

"Well give it back, I want to mount my new TV on the wall and I can't because you never answer the phone."

"I do," Eddie protests.

"No, you don't, I think I've spoken more to Y/N since you moved in with her than I've spoken to you. Which, actually, I prefer her. And I want you to invite her to my housewarming party next week."

"Am I invited, too?" Roan asks.

Steve smiles at her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Of course you are. Robin's going to bring Mr. Stink too."

Mr. Stink is Robin's big fat tabby cat. Roan loves him so much she cries every time she has to say goodbye to him.

Eddie and Steve hug and only pat each other on the back once, which is progress. Having guessed why they're there, Steve pulls them into the backroom to show her all the new kids movies, and lets Roan pick as many as she wants to put on his account. Despite his hug and his party invitation, Of course you're invited too, Steve glares at Eddie fiercely from across the checkout counter. "Do not bring them back late, Munson. You cost me six dollars, last time."

"And I tried to give it back to you," Eddie says, the bag of movies hanging from his elbow, Roan the other.

"Don't insult me. Bye, my favourite Munson, make sure you bring me a nice drawing for my new fridge," Steve says. He speaks much more kindly to Roan than he does Eddie, but Eddie doesn't think for a moment that Steve doesn't like him. They've just always been like this.

"Okay! Tell Robin I miss her, please, and Mr. Stinky."

"Anything for you. Bye, bye," he calls.

Eddie waves at him and they stroll out of the video store like kings, Eddie with all their movies and Roan with one of the huge bags of ready popped popcorn. She's walking on sunshine with every step, nearly skipping by the time they reach the car.

He doesn't understand it. Eddie's just Eddie. He doesn't get it, but he has a moment when he's strapping her back into her third car seat, knowing one day she's gonna be so tall they can get away with a booster seat. One day she won't need a car seat at all. He just loves her so much he can’t handle it.

"Show me those nails again, babe," he says.

She pulls her wrist up, her fingers hanging down, and says, "Lookit."

He loves her. She learned it from you. You'd done it as a joke, Roan does it because it makes her feel cool.

"Gorgeous." He pulls her hands into his. "What else do you want to do today?"

She shrugs. Eddie strokes down a crop of windblown baby hairs with a licked thumb, waiting for her to decide, but she must get distracted. She reaches out to do the same to him, moving his hair behind his ear.

"That's for me," she says, looking at the little 'R' behind his ear.

"Yeah, that's for you. I was going to get your full name, but I couldn't take the pain," he lies.

Her nose wrinkles in amusement. "Then how did you get the big ones on your arms?"

"I was less of a crybaby when I had those ones."

"You're not a crybaby, dad," Roan says, giggling.

He pouts and sniffles at her. "You really mean that?" he asks tearfully.

Roan pushes his shoulder lightly.

"Did you decide what you want to do?"

She nods vehemently. When she tells him what she wants, Eddie really could burst into tears.

You're a little tiny bit tipsy when you come home that night. You try not to show it, but Eddie knows you better than he knows the back of his own hand, and as soon as you sit down he's taking big sniffs of you to make sure you know you've been found out.

"Stop, you're like a puppy," you grumble fondly. "Wait, where's my Ro?"

"Bathroom. Come here, let me take your shoes off."

You lift a tired foot into his lap. "I had, uh, a margarita. And a cosmo, too. It was happy hour!"

"Sweetheart, I couldn't care less what hour it was as long as you had fun."

You preen, your face swinging into his shoulder. One of your earrings jabs his bicep. "Did you have a good day with Roan?"

"We had a great day." He struggles to get your shoe off as you slide down his arm. "Maybe my favourite day with her I've ever had that wasn't with you."

"Really? I'm so happy. Oh, wow, what? Nice nails, handsome."

You pull his hands into your lap. They're painted in a uniform black, but there's a clownfish painted on his thumbnail. "They're super goth," you say.

"You think so?"

"The clownfish is a choice. Can I get one too?"

Eddie kisses your flushed cheek. "Yeah, babe. The nail tech tried to get me to have a seahorse–"

"Bit on the nose."

"Exactly," he laughs. "Exactly. But our day was awesome. She was such an angel, and she must've made everyone smile everywhere we went, she–" Eddie sits up, speaking with pride in every word. "We went to Wayne's, and the nail salon, and the video store because she said the movies aren't good for talking and she wanted to talk to me, and I asked her if she wanted to do anything else, and she said," —Eddie squeezes your thigh— "she'd do anything as long as we could have a hug."

"She has you in the palm of her hand," you laugh, looking up at him with eyes nearly closed.

Roan skips into the room, hands dripping water, and catapults herself over the armrest back into Eddie's lap. Without asking, she dries her hands on his t-shirt.

"Hello, princess," you say.

Roan drags the half-eaten bag of popcorn over to your side. "Hi. I saved you some."

You take a handful of popcorn and promptly spill it down the front of your shirt. Roan helps you by picking them off of you and eating them, cramming her mouth until her cheeks have chipmunked.

"Don't do that, you'll choke," Eddie says.

"I won't," she says, little bits of popcorn spraying him.

"Ro," he laughs, his hand held over her mouth, laughing so hard it wobbles her in his lap.

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ilovebeabadoobee06 · 2 months

Text

ONE OF YOUR GIRLS

spencer reid x reader

sub!spencer x dom!reader (minors dni) lowkey shitty writing, hand job, smut, overstimulation, use of y/n, smut writen by a 18-year-old virgin.

Spencer’s feeling a lack of intimacy, his roommate Y/N is excited to enlighten him on what he’s been missing.

a/n: this is my first post. plsssss give me feedback if you feel comfortable!

𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎

SPENCER WORDLESSLY FLIPPED THROUGH THE PAGES OF HIS BOOK, as he layed in bed.

the sounds of y/n’s moans and cries achoed quietly throughout the apartment. even with his door closed it was apparent what she was up to. it irritated him to say the least, the many nights of the week she spent with her random hook ups. but deep down he knew, he just jealous that at her age she was getting those kinds of experiences and he barely did.

it felt like an enternity later when he heard the heavy foot steps of the guy and then the sound of front door closing in the kitchen. he let out a low sigh of relief and closed his book to check on y/n. he always did this since the assholes she hooked up with didn’t seem to know what aftercare was.

“hey.” he called waking into the kitchen, taking in her appearance as she stood by her bedroom door. her soft curly hair was all tussled and pulled and her pink lips were swollen. she wore a big blue sleep shirt, that swallowed her whole and little sleep shorts. she looked up at him through her long flowing lashes. she was always so pretty, it never failed to make his knees feel like jello. “hey.” she rasped in her low angelic voice.

“need anything?” he asked as he padded over to the fridge.

“mmmm, can you get me a water?” she replied. she looked him over and her eyes trailed to his white marvel t-shirt and plaid pajamas pants. it was refreshing for her to see him in lounge clothes, since she hardly ever did.

he turned his head and handed her a water with a little side smirk. “that’s what i was gonna do,” he chuckled and grabbed one for him self.

she took a good, long sip and place then bottle on the table.

“so how was work?” she leaned her body against the counter causally, crossing her arms.

“good. pretty uneventful.” he matched her stance and looked at her. she nodded taking another sip, not really sure what else to say.

“how was that guy?” he asked, more in a curious, nosey-roommate way instead of jealous.

“he was okay, kinda overpowering. good kisser tho.” she said causally like it was normal to take about sex with your roommate the way they did. “his breath smelled like dr. pepper.” he smiled at the and shook his head.

“he kinda seemed like an asshole,”

she narrowed her eyes. “you didn’t even see him,”she playfully rolled her eyes.

“put i heard him. that’s enough to go off of, you forget i’m a profiler.” she shock her head with a smile, her body felt clearly wrecked but what bothered her most was how adorably fuckable her roommate looked right now with his fluffy hair, glasses and his pajamas. “whatever.” it was comfortably silent for a few moments.

he sighed. “well, im going to go bed. I’ll see you tomorrow y/n/n.” he gave her his signature smug smirk before ruffling her hair and heading to his room. she wordlessly smiled back with a little wave as she walked to her room.

that’s night she stayed up thinking about how she wished she could have just one night with the man across the hall, instead of these assholes form tinder she hooked up weekly.

life for her was pretty boring and uneventful unlike spencer. and yeah, maybe she had a tiny, baby crush on him. And sure, she masterbated to the thought of him on more than one occasion but she knew that he didn’t see her that way, and besides, he was basically celibate.

𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎

the next morning she’d woke up and gone to work. she didnt get to see spencer before he left for work, but she knew that sometimes he’d get called in at the earliest hours of the day to work on case. some days he wouldn’t come home for days on his cases because he’d have to travel to an entirely different state.

the next time she saw her roommate was almost three days later, when she was came home from work she walked in and saw him passed out on the couch, still in his work clothes. she figured he probably felt to tired to even make it to his room and she couldn’t blame him. his job seemed like a lot.

she sighed in relief that he was finally home. she left her bag and keys on the table and walked over to him. she at least wanted him to be able to not wake up with back problems from sleeping in the couch.

“spence, wake up” she murmured softly as she kneeled next to couch and brushed his hair out of his face. his eyes fluttered open slowly. “hey.” she smiled

“hello.” he rasped tiredly. he sat up slowly.

“how was the case?” she got off the floor and sat comfortably next to him. he snuggled next to her and wrapped his long arm over her shoulder. “it was fine.”

she furrowed her eyebrows at his lack of a response. “you sure?” she asked specially. it was silent for a moment.

“yeah, it just made me realize i need to get layed.” the case was unlike any, that he had before. it’s was stressing beyond a simple minds belief, and by the time all he could think when he made it back to his hotel room was how he need to blow off some steam. preferably inside his his roommate.

she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “yeah, that you do. its been like 2 years, spencer” she teased him.

“I know, i just dont think im really like a hooking up kind of guy, you know”. he said shifting under the blanket. “yeah but life is short, and your job is depressing.” she sighed factually, laying her head on his shoulder.

“maybe i will,” he said suddenly her heart tighten.

“morgan keeps teasing me, and calling me a virgin. i’m not but i guess the fact that people think that i am kind of bothers me, you know?” he admitted staring at the wall.

“yeah, but what morgan says means nothing, spence.”

he sighed. “i know but it still bothers me.” he murmured. she shifted next to him to meet his eyes as he continued. “i just wish i was more experienced in that department i guess,” he continued meeting her eyes. “sorry i don’t know why i’m telling you this,”

her eyes softened as they met his, “no it’s fine. and experience doesn’t mean anything. even if it did, i’m sure your at least a good kisser.”

his cheeks flush “oh yeah, why do you say that?” her eyes traveled down to his lips subtly.

“cuz you have nice lips.”

her eyes traveled back to his and her heart skipped a beat from the way he was suddenly looking at her. his eyes traveled down to hers and back up to her pretty face. his brown eyes darkened with the thought of kissing her but he didn’t want to make the first move.

her breathing suddenly increased when she swore she sensed him moving closer to her face. something swirled inside her and she suddenly felt the need to taste his lips. “wanna test that theory?” she asked lowly.

maybe it was because she wanted him to feel something, or maybe it was because she secretly always wanted to do this with her roommate. maybe it was both.

his throat bobbed and he nodded silently staring at her full, wet lips. “ask me to kiss you.” she dared him, already leaning in as her fruity scented breathed fand his face. she’d never been this bold in her life but it felt good.

“kiss me.” he hesitated for a moment before rasping with a hint of desperation.

within a the blink of an eye, her fingers grabbed the back of his neck pushing his head close to meet her soft lips. she was instantly hint with the smell of his mint breath and smooth lips gliding with her.

his hand found it’s way to her waist angling her closer, while his other hand softly cupped her cheek. she almost moaned from the way her lips glided so perfectly with his, he was so gentle with her.

she felt a tight presence in her stomach as they explored each others lips and it was becoming too much to bare. she suddenly she pulled back, feeling like they were getting a bit to into it. “i’m sorry was that too mu-“

she felt slightly guilty for pushing him to kiss her but it went away when he cut her off. his fingers grasped her chin cloddling their lips harder than before. he opened his mouth into the kiss, inviting her tongue to explore. her fingers returned to the back of his neck tugging on the hair as he left out a low moan that she used to further collide their tongues. it was clear, he needed this.

finally letting go, the silent fight for dominance over the kiss was quickly won over by her from his simple lack of experience compared to her.

“is this okay?” she mumbled between kisses, it was pretty obvious where this was heading.

he nodded but didn’t verbally respond between kissing her and clutching her waist like a vice. the heat radiating off her body with his was becoming all consuming and the kiss felt like it could take years off her life.

she pulled away and he let out a whine in frustration. she smirked and but it didn’t last long before she began laying open mouth kisses on his throat. he felt dizzy as his fingers ran through her hair and blood started to rush to dick.

“y/n,” he whined as his fingers flexed on her waist.

just the sound of her name coming from his mouth in this way was enough to make her clit throb as she littered kisses on his neck and throat but didn’t verbally respond.

“y/n, please” he practically whimpered as her wet lips sucked a small visble bruise on his neck. clearly he was touch deprived by how worked up he was getting just from her kissing. she never expected spencer to be the one begging for her.

“please what spencer?” her voice echoed lowly in his ear, making his dick swell even further from her endearing dominance and his willingness to submit to her.

instead of answering his hands clamped her waist and he snatched her into his lap so she was straddling him. he tired to pull her into another kiss but she denied him and her hand ghosted around his neck.

“i asked you a question.“ she chided sternly meeting his eyes. their were blown wide but the twinkled with list for her.

his throat bobbed and the sudden intensity she bestowed as well as her hand on his neck had his body feeling hot and his cheeks flushed.

“please… touch me.” he felt slightly degraded by her and the way she made him verbalize what he wanted but he couldn’t deny how it was working him up. his hand locked around her and he closed it tightly around his neck.

she bit her bottom lip to hide her smirk at him when her grip on his neck tightened, knowing exactly what he wanted from her.

his eyes fluttered shut and moaned lowly, looking almost pained. “harder…”

the sound of his desperate voice had her clenching her thighs together but she complied, tightening her grip on his neck. “this is what you needed, huh?”

his mouth fell open with a quick nodded. her grip tightened and she felt the swell of him growing beneath her. “i told you to use your words spencer.” she scolded.

“yes…yeah. i needed this.” that’s exactly what she’s liked to hear.

her other hand found the buttons of his dress shirt. his warm, large hands held her waist while she felt the swell of him grow underneath her, denting his pants. she could feel him begging to be released right bellow her core and she resisted the urged to grind her hips. “don’t move.”

this dynamic was so new for both of them. she had never in her life been so in control like this and his experiences in general had never felt this good. there was no denying that this was turning them both on, beyond belief.

once his shirt was fully buttoned, she ran her soft hands slowly down his toned chest. and he breathed hitched but he kept his composure wanting to appease her.

she fully took in his appearance from his foggy glasses, tousled hair and swollen lips as he breathlessly stared at with hooded eyes. he looked like a walking wet dream and it was absolutely soaking her core to the point that it ached desperately.

she wondered what he would look like mindlessly chasing an orgasm, begging for release with her mouth or hand wrapped around him. she wondered what it would look like to see him whine desperately for more, she was determined to make it happen.

she sucked in a breath, before reaching to take off his glasses. her eyes lowered to his pink exposed nipples and they looked so tempting that she couldn’t help but lower her wet lips around his nipple and suck soflty, still keeping eye contact.

he tucked his bottom lip into his teeth, to hold back the groan that was was on the tip of his tongue when her teeth lightly brushed his nipple.

the tip her wet tongue swirled around his nipple before pulling away with low pop sound. she sat back up and looked down at him as her fingers found the buttons of his pants, slightly panting.

“I’m gonna touch you now, this okay?”

he nodded fully mesmerized by her entire demeanor when she had him like this. her glimmering eyes, she swollen lips, her pebbled nipples peaking through her top. “spencer.” she stopped.

“yes.” he nodded barley trusting his voice, he sounded embarrassedly desperate but he didn’t even care at this point. he needed this, he needed her.

she lifted her hips and pulled his dress pants down to hang on the floor before they hooked into his boxers. his heart was racing a million miles a minute just in an anticipation for her to touch him. his hips lightly trusted in the air but she pushed him down

she looked down to peak at his huge swollen dick as it slapped his stomach, already leaking precum. she couldn’t hold back a gasp. holy shit, she thought to herself. he was huge.

not only was he long, but he was was thick and pretty. his thick veiny dick was a pale pink color that matched his nipples.

“so pretty,“ she praised and his dick swelled even further. he panted just thinking about the amount of times he’s imagined this exact scenario; her hovering over him about to make him cum with her mouth or hand or both.

she scooted off his lap to kneel and hover next to him on the couch as he sat next to her with his dick out and his legs spread. she grabbed his chin to look her in the eyes as her soft hand gripped around his dick and he gasped.

she bit her bottom lip and swiped the tip of her thumb on his swollen tip, to gather up the precum.

‘shit’ he mumbled and gripped the couch cushions with both hands, trying desperately not to cum right there.

“please.” he couldn’t help but beg.

giving in, she quickly spat in her hand and finally began her achingly slow strokes on his throbbingly hard dick and he head layed back against the couch and looked at her in awe.

“you look so pretty with my hand wrapped around your dick, baby.” she praised, a little shocked by her own dirty words. he moaned just at the sound of her voice alone.

her strokes were slow but she gripped him so tight his mouth fell open. he was really trying to hold back how already close was but it was becoming evident. his breathing was heavy, his knuckles were white and his whimpers and moans increased with her speed.

on top of that he was leaking more and more from his tip and it was creating a wet sound, combined with his low moans as she stroked him to orgasm.

she stopped her stroking for a second to squeeze his tip, catching him completely off guard and he whimpered out loudly.

“fuck,” his thighs shook as he felt that familiar knot in his lower stomach start to tighten. his breathing picked up, coming out in gasps and pants as she stroked himself faster. his head swam with nothing but the thought of what it would be like to have her wrapped around him.

“i’m gonna cum!” he exclaimed. “please let me,”

“look at me.” she squeezed his tip and his eyes flew open to meet hers with a gasp. she pumped his dick faster and faster, up and down until it throbbed and twitched in her hand and he let out a loud gasp, followed by a deep whimper.

it was intense. his thighs shook, his eyes rolled back into his head. his hips bucked wildly into her hand as his mouth dropped open as he rode the wave of his orgasm.

“oh…god.” he cried out.

her thighs clenched together at the sight of him falling apart for her. she pumped his soaked dick through his orgasm as he let up little gasp and pants for the after shocks.

she knew she should give him a chance to at least catch his breath but she simply couldn’t resist wanting to make him fall apart all over again.

she took him by surprise when her hand continued her torturous stroked on his dick, despite his very recent orgasm. his heart was beating a million miles a minute but he couldn’t find it in him to tell her to stop. he simply craved that feeling from her over and over again so he took it.

an intense throbbing sensation washed over stomcah from the overstimulation and he was now practically wailing out moans and whimpers as well as a string of ‘oh fucks,’ and her name.

he was so loud that the neighbors could probably hear. ��shhh, baby,” she shushed him, “are you close?” she asked leaning her forehead to his, already knowing the answer.

he nodded rapidly but he couldn’t keep his voice down. “y/n,” he whined. “it’s so good… don’t stop.” the sound of his voice was making her weak in the knees but she wanted to make him feel good again. at least he was using his words now.

“i’m not baby, don’t worry. your being such a good boy for me.” her hand went at ungodly speed, stroking him base tip and the added wetness from his previous orgasm only added the sensation. his mouth fell open and he eyes rolled back into his head.

before he could finish he gripped her head and kissed her lips hastily. his body was feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated and he just needed the comfort of her touch to get him through it.

she kissed him and swallowed up all his moans and gasps as she worked him past the point of no return.

finally, and he let out a string of curse words before he bucked his hips wildly off the couch with the most pathetic moan she ever heard into her neck.

second later his dick absolutely exploded in her hand, drenching not only her hand but his stomach in his warm cum as he rode a long wave of his euphoria. her hand finally let up.

“holy shit,” she whispered taking in his absolutely wrecked state. his exposed chest and abs glistened with sweat and remnants of his orgasm, his eyes were screwed shut and his body slightly shivered. he was basically none verbal.

his eyes finally to meet hers and he fist lightly closed around her neck, pulling her until a soft, unsexual, kiss.

holy shit indeed.

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #criminal minds #spencer reid glasses #criminal minds season 2 #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #smut #fanfic

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aloysiavirgata · 7 months

Note

Scully comes out to Mulder as bisexual he responds by also coming out as bisexual

They’re kicked back in Adirondacks by the fire circle, the logs popping and sparking when the flames lick dried sap. The air is just crisp enough to make the heat cozy. Scully brought home cider donuts from the farm stand along her commute, which they wash down with a pitcher of sangria. A cinnamon-sugar crust coats her lips.

It’s been two minutes since he asked her and she hasn’t answered.

“So?” he prods, nudging her foot with his. “It’s been long enough all the sin’s gone out of it, Dana Katherine. Fess up, did you experiment some in college? I’ll absolve you if you did.”

He puts the lewdest possible edge on “experiment” so that she can’t in good faith make a quip about organic chemistry or the effects of acetylcholine on Rana pipiens.

Scully flops her head back against the heavy wooden chair; who cares at this point? The meanest nuns are dead. “Yeah,” she says. “I did.”

She turns to him for a reaction

His eyebrows are up, but he looks genuinely interested rather than smirking. “Oh? Do tell.”

She stares up at the rising column of smoke, tracks it to Polaris. Tracks it decades back. “This girl, Elizabeth. Roommate’s boyfriend’s sister. We…um. We all went out to a bar one night while she was visiting.”

Scully leans into the memory. Calgon and ski sweaters and Aqua Net. Layered bangs, Jordache jeans. Liz’s rum and Coke.

Liz’s hazel eyes, Liz’s blue mascara.

“Anyway. We all had a lot to drink and Claire - that was my roommate - Claire and Elizabeth’s brother were making out in his Cutlass Ciera.”

Liz’s mouth like a taut August plum, the taste of her frosted Revlon lips…

“There was this couch in the back of the bar, some coffee tables, you know the feeling. Anyway, Liz pulled me over. We’d been dancing some, Fleetwood Mac I think, and she kissed me. I was shocked, good Catholic girl that I was. But I was three shots in, and it was college, you know? We settled on the couch, kind of drunk I guess….”

She swallows hard, looks at Mulder. “Is this weird? It seems kind of weird.”

He shakes his head, eyes bright in the flames. “Go on.”

“We were kissing, mostly. She touched my breasts through my shirt, slipped her hands down my jeans but not my underwear. It was pretty innocent, I don’t know. I didn’t see her again after that but it definitely changed my perspective some. I began noticing if I found a woman attractive. Got at least a bit more comfortable with the idea, anyway. Stopped telling myself I just liked her hair or her outfit.”

She hears his breathing thicken. Just a little, but it’s there.

“And never after?” he asks.

Scully wonders what else he isn’t asking her. Wonders what it must be like to be young now. She shakes her head, takes a pull of sangria. Chews a chunk of macerated pineapple.

“No,” she says. “I came close a couple of times, but no.”

She wishes she had a cigarette or a joint. Something to do with her hands and her mouth even after so many years. And even after so many years she doesn’t tell him about what she thought of Esther Nairn, about whether she wanted to kill Diana or be Diana or fuck Diana.

They watch the fire for a time. Hear it crackle, gaze into a vast and endless sky. There are old gods there, older than hers. She knows that now. She embraces it.

“What about you?” Scully asks. “All those posh Eton boys at Oxford, surely one struck your fancy.”

She doesn’t really expect anything of it, but she asks to make him confirm or deny. To deflect. It’s how she’s been trained. And she’s endlessly intrigued by his formative years, her well-bred, prep-school lover. They’d practically invented sodomy, hadn’t they?

Mulder makes a soft, throaty noise. Grabs a donut and takes a huge bite.

She turns to him. “Oh my god,” she says. “Did you sleep with Alex Krycek?” Where had THAT come from?

He coughs donut crumbs everywhere. “Scully!”

She clamps on to it. “Did you?”

His turn for the sangria now, blushing. Blushing! Fox Mulder, did you really? she thinks, oddly turned on.

Mulder clears his throat. “He kissed me, but no. He kissed me twice, actually. But no, I didn’t…” he trails off, shaking his head.

“Did you like it?” she asks, her voice sex and sandpaper. Arousing herself further, Jesus.

“Yes,” he says. Holds her stare. Runs his tongue over the lips she’s kissed so many times. That Alex Krycek and Diana Fowley had kissed. The sting is gone, only the fascination left.

All the sin’s gone out of it, he’d said. Yes, it had. Over fifty, of course it had.

“But it wasn’t your first time.” A little breathless, that.

“No.” Licks his lips again. “You guessed right, Agent Scullly, brava. This guy, at uni…we. We didn’t sleep together, but we’d. You know. Touch.”

Agent Scully.

The father of her child looks unimaginably shy. “Ourselves. Each other.”

She knows about Phoebe, all the details. She knows about the cemetery and the gothic drama and the kind of sex that feels like a revelation instead of a mind game.

He knows about Daniel. She sees the child she was then, has long since forgiven the silly girl.

But this is different and, in her mind, sweet. Two boys, lonely, away from home. She hopes they were comforted. Happy.

“Did you…keep up with him?”

Mulder shakes his head, mouth a little swollen in the primal orange glow. “It only lasted a term before he graduated. Never spoke after that. Phoebe, you know. Other women.”

“Alex.”

He grins at her. “You have to admit he was awfully pretty, especially for a complete piece of shit.”

Scully laughs. “That he was.”

She reaches for his fingers in the dark.

In the light.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #my fic #prompt #bisexual agents

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ofstoriesandstardust · 4 months

Text

what was i made for?

note: i wrote this piece after seeing the Barbie movie in july and got so enraged by what happened at the golden globes that i just had to finish this. i don't know if anyone will read this but i just wanted to post it. Rebel is my most special girl. (@cottagecori unknowingly came up the ending to this fic)

same mistakes

word count: 1.5k

You squeeze Liam’s shoulder, passing him the ticket. “And what do you say if anyone asks why you’re in there without an adult?”

“Your stomach was bothering you, so you went to the bathroom.”

“And?”

“Then I text you to come back to the theater.”

“Correct. And?”

“Um…”

“Not a word of this to your dads, do you understand me?”

He nods eagerly.

You hum, letting him go. “Have fun, kid.”

Liam’s grin is wide as he bounds into the theater across the hall as you sigh.

Liam had only been with Jake and Javy for about four months now, and already knew exactly how to play you to get what he wanted.

You weren’t exactly sure who had put their foot down about Liam seeing Oppenheimer, but regardless, Liam’s dads had said no, leaving the boy disappointed. Apparently, his best friend Carter had an older sister who had snuck their whole friend group into Oppenheimer the week before while Liam had been in Savannah with his dads.

So, when you had suggested seeing a movie today to keep Liam occupied, he’d had a look on his face you just knew you wouldn’t be able to say no to.

You turn, walking into the theater with your popcorn, sitting down in your chair.

You glance around the theater as the previews roll, the costumes and bright pink of the people in the room standing out as you snack.

You’re a little underdressed, it seems.

“The Barbie movie did more for me in two hours than two years of therapy.”

April’s words played in your head as you watched the movie, seemingly doubtful this movie could needle you so much.

You doubted you’d even cry.

Take my hands, close your eyes, now feel.

The first tear startled you as it slide down your face, not even realizing it was going to happen until your throat closed in on you.

You got up from the theater as the tears came in succession, warm against your face as you pushed out the doors, out past the concessions stand and into the fresh air of Grossmont Shopping Center, sitting down next to the fountain across from the Cold Stone.

A little boy stared at you as you broke down in tears, not even really sure why you were crying.

April had gotten it all right when she said that the movie dually captured the reality of what it was like to be a woman while also the beauty of it too - and you hadn’t anticipated it cutting so deep.

It was so hard to sit there and watch that montage, to feel the love that emanated from those clips. The way America Ferrieria looked at her character’s daughter with so much love it made your chest physically ache.

It wasn’t often your Mom’s absence popped up like this, when you had wished so badly to know what it was like to experience a mother’s love.

Your Dad’s love was enough for you and that was all that mattered to you.

But sometimes you craved having someone to teach you how to do your make-up, someone to gossip with over a glass of wine, someone to guide you when you didn’t know where else to go.

The closest you’d ever gotten to a strong maternal figure was Carole, and she was long gone by now.

God, all you wanted right now was to say to give her one last hug.

To say thank you for all the unconditional love she had offered you so freely when it came at a cost from everyone else.

Bradley snickers as he rolls over in bed. “Now that it’s just the two of us: did you sneak Liam into Oppenheimer today? Your secret’s safe with me.”

You glance up at him from where you’re looking at the photo album. “What?”

He pauses, clearly seeing something on your face as he begins to frown. “Everything okay? You’ve been kind of quiet this evening.”

You shrug, looking down at the photo album in your hands. He moves, shifting to sit next to you.

“I miss her.” You say quietly. “I miss her so much B.” You say with a shake of your head, as you feel your throat close up again. “God, I- I wish so badly she was here to tell me what I’m supposed to do now, to help me figure out who I’m supposed to be.” You snap the album shut, sliding it away from you as you tilt your head back, trying to blink away the tears. “God- and I’m- I’m always fucking crying and I never ever mean to and I-”

Bradley’s hand glides up your thigh to sit on your waist, tugging you towards him. “Honey, what- where is this even- what are you talking about?”

You sniff, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I went to go see the Barbie movie today while Liam saw Oppenheimer – don’t give me that look, he was not hiding it well at all – and it just made me- it just made me miss your Mom.” You admit quietly.

Bradley’s next breath is heavy and shaky as he tightens his grip on you. “I miss her too, you know. Every day.”

“I wish she was here to tell me what to do now that I don’t know who I am.” The words come out soft as you shrug, looking down at where your fingers intertwine with Bradley’s. “Your Mom - she always had the best advice. And she always knew just what to do next, even when I never saw a way forward. She was so kind- and- and witty and clever. And I- I don’t feel like I am even half of that.”

“Baby-”

“And I thought I had my whole life and my identity. I was a Navy pilot, following in the footsteps of the people who raised her and I thought I knew who I was supposed to be and what I was meant to do and even if I wasn’t happy, it was- I don’t know- I’m just- I’m so lost Bradley.” Another tear trickles down your face. “I thought I was Rebel but maybe I’m not her anymore. But without her, I don’t know if I know who I am.”

It’s silent for a minute, the tears drying out on your face as Bradley sits there with you.

“I will never be as good as my Mom.” Bradley whispers. “Probably- never half of what she was. But I- I know what she would say if she were here.”

“Yeah?” You sniffle.

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever known. You may not see it, but Rebel is only a small part of you. You are the most badass, confident, funny, caring, intelligent woman I've ever known. You are selfless and you care so deeply about all of your friends that they become your family. What you do for work - that isn’t who you are. You’re so much more than that.”

“But she was who I was for so long - can I ever be anything more?”

“You already are.” He whispers. The tears start again as he looks at you with an almost proud smile. “I’ve been meaning to bring it up to you for a while, thinking about what you might like to do next. You know, one of the reasons I fell in love with you was because of how much you care for others. And I know- I know what the Navy did to you is never going to go away and I am glad you left it behind, especially because those things- they’re ingrained into the culture of that place. But what if- what if there was a way for you to help others? You always say how there wasn’t anybody to help you, but what if you were there to help the girls still in it?”

“I’m literally a Ken doll and you didn't even ask me to match with you!”

Liam’s hiding his giggles behind his fist as Jake stares in horror at Javy’s Halloween costume.

“Jake-” You say, unable to stop the giggle that escaped at your friend’s reaction to the Halloween costumes you and Javy had picked out after seeing the Barbie movie together back in August.

The blond turns on you. “I am literally Ryan Gosling Ken and yet you guys are going as Ncuti Ken and Emma Barbie?!”

“Don’t even bother, Bagman. I already tried and she said that if I dared to bleach my hair like Ryan’s, she’d divorce me.” Bradley pauses next to Jake. “And I kind of think she’s serious. I’m not sure. I’m not in the business of, what did Liam call it? Fucking around and finding out? So couple costumes are out.”

You give a playful half-shrug. “I mean, the two of you could go as your own pair of Kens. It doesn’t have to be Barbie and Ken. It can just be- the Kens.”

“Bob can be Alan.” Javy supplies, nudging you. “We could do a whole group costume. You can still be Kenough, Jake.”

Bradley lets out a barking laugh that he ends up coughing down at the glare Jake sends his way. Liam ambles over to you, clinging on to the side of your arm. “I’m sensing a this is my mojo dojo casa house! moment is about to come out.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun: maverick #same mistakes

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rogue-durin-16 · 2 years

Text

SUNGLASSES AND LIPSTICK STAINS (part II/III)

Summary: After his punch-up with Billy, Steve is in need of medical attention. Going to the hospital isn't an option, so the kids take him to the closest thing they know to a doctor. Funny how the girl who mended his heart back at Tina's party would be the one mending his body.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Genre: angst-fluff (hurt/comfort)

Tags:

Sunglasses And Lipstick Stains: @shycupcakealissa

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: blood, injuries, head trauma, brief mention of smoking, language

A/N: not so fun fact! I didn't have to do much research on head injuries because I've had my fair share of experiences. It's literally a miracle that I'm still completely okay lmao. Anyways enjoy<3

Part I

Part III

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Something was not right. I noticed straight up as I climbed off Samantha's car when she dropped me off —I just couldn't pinpoint what exactly was not right.

There were clear signs, though. The shed's door left ajar; a freshly dug patch of land that lacked grass; the storm cellar's gates wide open.

"Dustin?" My tone was wary when I called for my little brother from our front door.

No response.

"Dustin!" I tried again, setting one foot after another into our home.

Nothing. I felt my nerves beginning to rise. He should be home by now.

I stalked to our landline and picked the phone handle, pressing the number I had so many times called to when Dustin forgot his curfew.

That was probably it, but since Will's disappearance, everyone was on edge. The eerie screeches Samantha and I had heard on our way to my house hadn't helped either.

It didn't take long for a gentle motherly voice to greet me from the other side of the line. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Wheeler! Y/n here. I know it's late but uh..." My leg bounced as I tried to sound as casual as possible. "I was just wondering if Dustin was still there by any chance?"

"Uhm... Dustin wasn't here today, Y/n."

"He... wasn't?" My brows furrowed, the cable of the phone being anxiously twisted on my index finger.

"I... think he might be staying the night at the Byers'?" I hummed at the information, a light relief settling inside me —though it was swiftly torn out by her next sentence. "I don't know what's wrong with these kids today. Billy dropped by a while ago looking for his sister."

"Billy... Hargrove?" My heart nearly stopped at Karen's confirmation, followed by a little ramble about how charming the boy was.

Charming. Well, now, I personally wouldn't have used that word to describe Billy Hargrove.

Thanking Karen for her information, I hung up and trotted to the door. I would walk to the Byers' if I had to.

Just as I got a hold of my set of house keys, the sound of a rear was heard in our quiet street. A peep through my window was enough to make me freeze, because that was Billy Hargrove's car.

Billy Hargrove's car had just mowed down our mailbox.

In the span of five seconds in which I lost sight of our yard in order to open the front door, the scene turned even more bizarre. From the crashed Chevrolet Camaro's driver seat, a petite red haired girl climbed off. To further shock, Dustin, Lucas and Mike scrambled out of the vehicle right after, practically dragging out a semiconscious Steve Harrington.

What the fuck was going on.

One Hour Earlier

DUSTIN'S P. O. V.

I had barely registered Steve's wince after the headlights' overcurrent had blinded us, so seeing the eldest of us stumble to the car for some kind of support, only for his legs to give in once he got to the vehicle, nearly put me under cardiac arrest.

"Shit— Steve?" I called, taking a tentative step towards him while I signaled the others to stay put. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, Dustin, I'm great." The sarcastic response left his lungs in a strained grunt. Before any of us could throw a carless comeback at our assigned babysitter, his torso contorted to the side, allowing him to not throw up on his lap.

There was a colorful variety of panicked gasps, spit as a rapid fire by the four of us who remained standing while I rushed to kneel besides Steve.

"Oh my god..." I exclaimed, tugging Steve's arm to drag him further from his vomit whilst trying not to stare at it. I would so puke myself if I spared the puddle a single glance.

"He has to go to the hospital." Max took a step forward with a concerned frown darkening her gaze.

"No!" Mike made us all jump with his negative. "We just went into the tunnels. Bet if they run tests on him, they'll know something's off."

I heard a very much lost 'Wait what?' coming from Steve as I raised to my feet, hands thrown on the back of my head. "Holy shit."

"Okay but we gotta take him somewhere." Max insisted with urgency. "I mean, look at him."

"Guys I think... I think might pass out."

"Shit..." I cursed under my breath, crouching down momentarily to make sure Steve's back stayed laid on the side of the Camaro. "Shit shit shit. Okay, let me think."

No hospitals. Okay, but he needed medical attention. We needed a doctor. Or at least something close to it. Maybe a medic or...

"She's gonna kill me."

"Who's gon-" Lucas mouthed a quiet 'oh'.

"She's gonna have to suck it up." Mike stated, picking up on who we were talking about and how she felt about people like Steve. Or Nancy, matter-of-factly.

"Who's gonna have to suck it up?" Max exasperated begging for an explanation fell on deaf ears.

"Can you drive us to my house?" I inquired.

She sighed, a determined yet exhausted look lighting up her irises. "Put him in the car."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

"Y/n!" I could barely process Dustin abandoning his friends to run to me, hands raised in surrender and an apologetic smile dancing on his face. "Y/n, hey. Have I told you how much I love you today?"

"What the fuck's going on?" I managed to question, my pitch as high as it could get due to the surreal situation before me.

"You remember what you learned in that first aid course, right?" He decided to ignore my inquiry as he moved my flabbergasted frame aside so Lucas and Mike could carry Steve inside.

"What?" My horrified eyes clocked the older teen's bloodied, swollen face. "The hell happened to him?!"

"My brother's an asshole, that's what happened to him." The ginger girl I finally recognized as Billy's little sister rumbled behind Dustin with folded arms. If I was not mistaken, it must have been the same girl my brother had a crush on— Max, I believed. "I... I think he might have a concussion."

"I'm sorry, how old are you?" She shuffled, sneaking my brother a begging side glance.

"It's okay, she's cool." Dustin whispered.

"Thirteen."

"THIRTEEN?!" I yelled, making them both flinch. "YOU DROVE THEM ALL THE WAY FROM—"

"Y/n! I'm gonna need you to calm down." Dustin's words were slow and clear. "We can't fill you in right now, but I promise—"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

"I PROMISE" he reiterated over my words, a bit louder this time. "That I'll tell you everything, but now I need you to fix up Steve." I opened my mouth again, but no words came out of it before Dustin cut me off once more. "I know what you're thinking. 'Dustin, you know I wouldn't touch Steve Harrington with ten-foot pole', but he's a good dude." the oblivious confidence in his words was actually funny, but I couldn't find it in me to laugh.

"He saved our lives." The girl added.

"Is that why he's—"

"Kinda."

"Yeah!" Dustin shouted, though by the readhead's face, it must have been a half truth. "Now please, can you help him? Please."

A silence reigned among the three of us for a couple of seconds, in which I tried to assess the situation with the little information I had.

In all fairness there wasn't much of a choice to make. Casting my head down for a second, I re-entered the house, now with the pair of kids trailing after me.

"Alright, give him some space." I commanded Mike and Lucas, who were struggling to keep Steve sat still on our largest couch.

My heart clenched the moment I kneeled before my classmate, as I finally had the chance to fully take in his swollen face, peppered in purplish black bruises. "Holy fuck," I muttered, lifting my hand to move a rogue strand of hair out of the way. "He sure did a number on you, didn't he?"

"Henderson." There was some kind of surprise gleaming in his bloodshot orbs at the sight of me. "I'm alright. Just need a bit of sleep."

"You sure? 'cause a little birdie told me you might have a concussion." I whispered, taking my hands to the back of my pocket in order to fish out the half empty pack of smokes inside if which I kept my lighter.

"You smoke?!" Dustin screeched behind me, earning a chastising nudge from Lucas. "What."

"Yes, Dustin. I smoke." I confirmed in a hiss, rotating in the spot to throw daggers at my brother. "And if you tell mom, I'll slit your throat."

Dustin nodded rapidly at my deadpanning warning.

Once I was sure he had gotten the memo, I spun back to look at Steve. "Let me know if I hurt you." With a nod from him, I took a tender hold of his face, the pad of my thumb pressing on the skin beneath his left lower lid in order to open his eyes.

"Woahwoahwoah- what are you doing?" Steve slurred, trying and failing to slip away from my grasp by wrapping his digits around my wrist when he saw the lighter's flame moving close.

"I'm just— Stay still!" He winced at my loud tone, but complied nonetheless. "I'm just checking something. Keep your eyes on me, okay?"

There were a few seconds of expectant silence while I tested Steve's pupils' reaction time to the bright light of the tiny flame before him. It took the boy no time to break it with a soft whisper that surely made my cheeks flush.

"You have like, the prettiest lips." I should have seen something like that was coming by the look on his face.

"And you have a concussion." I declared in response, hoping in vain none of the kids had heard his statement, nor his enchanted tone. "Guys, he needs a hospital."

"No hospitals." Mike's statement held a finality that left me even more confused.

"What do you mean 'no hospitals'?"

"It's okay, Y/n." Steve agreed, which made it all more suspicious. "Just patch me up and I'll go home."

"How? Walking?" I countered, tilting my head to try and meet his avoidant gaze. I soon gave up on him, turning to the kids behind me instead. "Was he unconscious?"

"Yeah but for like, a couple of minutes?" Max asked with a tinge of anxiety in the back of her throat.

"How long's a couple of minutes."

"I don't know, maybe five?" I widened my eyes at Dustin's levity trying my best not to fume.

"Five?!"

"Then he was on and off." Lucas finished, his demeanor closer to Max's than it was to Dustin's.

I gathered all the patience I could find in me to not yell at the kids, and instead chose to return to Steve. "Listen, you need to see a doctor."

"Y/n, it's alright."

"No, it's not alright. What's wrong with you all?" I huffed, attempting to get up, only to be secured in place by Steve's lazy grasp. "I'm gonna call an ambulance."

"NO!"

"Y/N, PLEASE!"

"NO HOSPITALS!"

"Jesus Christ my head..." Steve groaned, bending over with the balls of his hands pressing against his eyes.

"Stop that!" I scolded him, taking his hands in mine. "Everybody SHUT UP!"

I immediately muttered an apology under my breath to Steve for the noise, whose forehead had come to rest on my shoulder.

"I'm gonna clean you up, and we'll... we'll move on from there." The boy nodded, messy hair bouncing at the movement and tickling my cheeks. "C'mon, Harrington, upsy-daisy. Wheeler! a little help here, please."

As soon as I began to pull him up with me, both Lucas and Mike appeared on either sides of my peripheral vision, scooping Steve's arms over their shoulders.

"Take him to the bath— actually no, take him to my room." I commanded them, walking over to the kitchen sink in order to wash my hands. "Dustin, go check if mom's still asleep."

At the lack of movement, I spared the two remaining kids in the room a look of urgency, only to be met by Dustin's baffled face.

"What."

"What was that?" He inquired in an accusative tone.

"I genuinely don't know what you're talking about." I lied, choosing to play stupid, keeping myself busy with filling a bowl with warm water and, right after, digging in our freezer for ice to avoid meeting Dustin's inquisitive eyes.

"You know what I'm talking about." I did my best to look clueless, which only seemed to exasperate my brother more. "The sexual electricity!"

"The what?" Max questioned, pulling a face at Dustin while my eyes widened because who the fuck taught him that.

Before I could get a word in, the two taller boys that had carried Steve to my room came back.

"Just check if mom's asleep, okay?" I insisted, taking backwards steps into the hall to reach the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

STEVE'S P. O. V.

The silence of Y/n's room was filled with the buzzing going on my head. As much as I would have loved to take a look around to hopefully catch a more solid grip of her already visible personality, keeping my eyes open with the light on was an effort I couldn't afford.

Due to being laid down on my back across the mattress with my forearm over my eyes, I didn't acknowledge Y/n's presence until she spoke.

"Hey."

"Hey." I reciprocated the greeting in the same soft, careful tone without changing my position. I was tempted to peek from under my temporary light shield when I heard her pacing around the room, moving from one corner to another, but I ended up waiting for her signal.

Soon enough, a two switches were flipped and a hand was patting my thigh. "C'mon, pretty boy."

I opened my eyes to see the room's ceiling light had been replaced with a warm toned night lamp by our side.

Without a word and some struggle, I propped myself forward and attempted to sit upright. The not so genuine smile I spared the girl before sitting on a chair earned me a sympathetic look.

She seemed to want to say a thousand different things, but stayed quiet instead, soaking a cotton cloth on an undersized bowl which rested atop her lap.

"Y/n?" She hummed, prompting me to go on. "You okay?"

Her irises shot up from her lap with incredulity. "Me?" She huffed, reaching to carefully remove the couple of colorful band-aids the kids had placed on my temple. "I'm peachy. You, on the other hand?"

"I'll be okay."

"I know." She raised the wet cloth to my forehead, and distractedly whispered, "Let me know if it hurts." before squeezing the piece of fabric above it, letting the lukewarm water run down the cut.

Instinctively, I raised the hem of my shirt to dry the droplets, but Y/n's expertise hands were much quicker. With a dry piece of toilet paper, she made sure the now dirty water wouldn't drip on my clothes, whilst beginning to ever so gently tap on the cut with the wet cloth.

I didn't realize how tense I was until the girl halted her actions, furrowing her brows at me. "Am I hurting you?"

"No- shit, not at all." I'm just not used to people taking care of me, my heart wanted to confess; my brain barely refrained it. And, had I kept my eyes on Y/n's for an instant longer, the sentence would have slipped anyway.

"Let's get you more comfortable, okay?" She suggested, moving the first aid items from her lap to the nightstand.

I simply nodded at her suggestion, chin still downcasted even when her grip secured my forearms to help me turn and slide backwards. An inpatient, mildly frustrated curse escaped her lips due to the struggle, stealing the ghost of a laugh from me when she had to abandon the chair and plant her knees on the mattress.

"I think I can do this myself." I teased, digging my heels on the blanket to push and help with my relocation.

"I think it's too late for that." She snapped back, releasing one of my forearms to cup the back of my head before it could hit the headboard. "Careful now." She muttered, only letting her fingers slide out of my hair when the back of her palm was pressed against the wooden piece of furniture.

I had to repress a mewl at the loss of touch, though I couldn't hide my pout when the warmth of her skin abandoned mine —nor could I avoid how I instinctively reached to hold her thigh in place when she attempted to retreat back to the chair.

Don't leave.

Instead of moving away, she lowered her own hand on mine, rubbing soothing circles on top of it with her thumb.

I'm not going anywhere.

After readjusting the lamp besides us and taking back the bowl and cloth, she repeated in silence the process carried out on the cut splitting my temple, this time on the one in my swollen lip.

"Did he only go for the head or...?" She questioned once she was done cleaning the open cuts.

Truth was, I didn't really know. After the third punch, everything was blank, but Y/n was worried enough as she was; adding that to the mix wouldn't do any good. "Pretty much."

"He's a fucking tool." She seethed, grabbing the antiseptic lotion to apply it on my temple. "Should've let Sam run him over at Tina's party."

"That would've made my night." I realized too late that the amused smile twisting my lips reopened the slit, and earned me some lighthearted chastising from Y/n.

"As if I didn't make your night." She taunted me, paying extra attention to my lips to make sure the bleeding was cut short before she brushed in the lotion with her fingertip.

The scene was too reminiscent of that one night, and I wondered if Y/n's intense stare on my mouth meant she was feeling the same urge to kiss me now that I had felt then.

"So uhm... Does Dustin know—"

And just like that, the spell was broken.

"Jesus, no." She snorted, straightening up her position. "And he's never gonna find out."

"Because you're embarrassed?" I furrowed my brows at the senior before me. She immediately mirrored my visage, and I felt the need to explain myself. "In the car, Dustin and Lucas were going on about how you despise me. And I mean, I got a complete different impression at Tina's party, but maybe you— I don't know, are ashamed of what happened?"

"What? No! No." She gulped, suddenly finding the clean gauze on her folded thigh very interesting. "I mean, I might have— I might have mentioned you weren't my uhhh favorite person to Dustin a couple of times, but— yeah, no." She shook her head to emphasize her words.

"Then why?" I hated the neediness in my tone; the way my voice broke. I blamed the lack of sleep and the adrenaline rollercoaster the last couple of days had been.

"First off, my little brother has no business in my love life." She fairly pointed out with a quirked brow. "And second, he'll tell Mike, and I bet Mike will tell Nancy."

"We broke up." I blurted out. With what intention? I didn't really know, and by the look on her face, neither did Y/n.

"You know it'll still piss her off."

"It was just a kiss."

She stared blankly at me for a second.

'No, it wasn't' was the sentence read on her expression —and she was right, it hadn't just a kiss. It was the best kiss I've ever had.

"And that's why no one needs to know." She said instead, with deluded resignation in her words. "Listen, Steve." Sigh. "We got more important... Matters to attend. Don't you think?"

"Right."

The following few minutes elapsed without a word. We drowned in the quietness of the room while Y/n finished patching me up. Hadn't I know better, I would have said she was lingering.

"You could use those sunglasses right now." She observed, taking my chin between her thumb and index to move me around.

"I'm pretty sure they're at the Byers'."

She gave her head a couple of slow shakes. I had earlier wondered if she would interrogate me any further about the events leading up to this moment, given how little she had asked about it, and the time had come. "How did you end up babysitting these assholes?"

"Your little shit of a brother got me mixed up in some dangerous business 'cause no one else was around." I explained, trying my best to give away nothing apart from the necessary. "It kinda kept escalating from there."

She dropped her hands on her lap, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times before finally asking, "what's going on, Steve?"

I didn't have time to say a single thing before the door was shoved open, making us both jolt on the spot.

"I'M NOT LOOKING!" Dustin yelled from the entrance with covered eyes.

"Dustin, what the fuck?!" The girl turned to hysterically gesture at the kid, whose hand fell limply to his side with a relieved exhale when he was met with nothing but his sister handing me an ice bag. "What is it."

"Can Lucas, Mike and Max stay the night?" It took a hot minute for Y/n to give her brother an affirmative response. She probably wasn't a fan of Billy showing up at her doorstep looking for Max like he had done at the Byers'.

"I'll get Max pj's in a moment." The eldest sister relented, shooing her little brother out shortly after.

"This kid."

"I know." She agreed with a breathy laugh, giving me an up-and-down. "Okay, you're all good. Or as good as it gets."

"I'm all ready to go home?"

Y/n's slack jawed expression made it really hard not to throw a fit of laughter. "And how the fuck will you go home, Steve?"

"I'll walk to the Byers'." I began to explain in a Self-assured manner. "My car's there and—"

"So is Hargrove." She cut me off. "And then what, then you drive?"

I threw my hands up in surrender between us. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Stay the night." The girl before me put that out there as if it was the most logical response; as if we had been friends for so long that not crashing in unprompted wasn't even up to question. It certainly wasn't the case. "Take the bed. I have to watch over and see if I gotta rush you to the hospital anyway." She nonchalantly explained, trying not so subtly to reassure me.

"I don't wanna be a bother."

"I'm inviting you." She responded, rocking herself slightly forward.

"Why are you so sweet to me?" It was more of an out loud thought than a real question, but I obtained a reply nevertheless.

"It's called minimal decency, Harrington." Flashing me a quick half smile, Y/n abandoned the bed and walked to the barely lit dresser at the foot of the bed. "I think I have... Ah, got it." She wiggled a piece of clothing I could barely discern and threw it at me. "You'll be more comfortable in that."

"Thanks." I mumbled after unfolding the item and realizing it was a big soft t-shirt.

"No worries." Y/n's body was back to being folded to fish out something else from the drawers, which i figured would be sleepwear for Max. "Alright, I'm gonna go arrange the gang of toddlers I have camped in the living room." I nodded at her, not missing the way her eyes slipped down to my torso once I had discarded both my jacket and shirt. "I'll... be right back."

In the last couple of days, I had had a lot of bizarre experiences, but one I certainly did not expect was sleeping in Y/n Henderson's bed. In her shirt. What was life even.

I had just barely accommodated myself under Y/n's covers when the door was once more shoved open, nearly giving my a heart attack. Unsurprisingly enough, the figure entering the room was not the girl who had just patched up my wounds, but Dustin.

"Everything okay?" I questioned, sitting up again, but the kid did not respond — not until he was sat on the chair by the bed anyway.

"Steve."

"Dustin."

I gave the kid a puzzled look when he took a deep breath, as if he was about to break some horrible news to me.

"Do you have a thing for my sister?"

"What?" It came out in a high-pitched, panicked tone, which definitely did not playing in my favor.

"I'm not gonna be mad," Dustin on the contrary spoke calmly, like a parent who was about to scold their child. "I just want to know."

"Jesus, Dustin. No. I do NOT have a thing for Y/n."

I felt myself getting smaller under the thirteen year old's scrutinizing glare, praying for him to be convinced because I didn't have the strength to have that conversation with anyone, let alone a child.

Eventually, the youngest Henderson caved in and spared me, choosing to get up and leave instead of questioning me any further. Maybe he himself didn't really want to know, or maybe he thought I had been put through enough already.

With one last squinted, unconvinced look from the room's entrance, Dustin closed the door, leaving me alone with just the warm colored night lamp to illuminate the space.

Releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding, I slid back into the silky sheets permeated with Y/n's perfume, which lulled me to sleep faster than I would have ever imagined.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

It took me longer than expected to set up a proper sleeping place for the middle schoolers, but not long enough for someone to fall asleep in the meantime.

Yet there he was, sound asleep, lightly snoring in my bed when I got back to the bedroom. The mere thought of having to wake him up again was breaking my heart a little, but it was imperative.

With a quiet whine, I dragged my feet to the side of the bed before plopping down on the chair. God, even after fixing him up, he was in an awful state.

'Billy hit him pretty hard.' Max had confided me in a whisper, face full of guilt. 'I thought he was gonna kill him.'

"Steve." I called for him in the most gentle voice I could. Nothing. "Steve." I tried again. Again, nothing.

He was completely knocked out.

I resolved to try from a closer distance, so I leaned on until my lips were inches away from him and... Nothing came out of me. How could someone look so beautiful all beaten up?

I didn't fully register my movements until my lips were lightly pressed on his cheekbone. The positive side is that that seemed to do the trick to wake him up. The negative was that he had definitely felt the kiss.

His initial confusion, however, was quick to melt into an entranced expression I couldn't fully decipher.

"Hi." He whispered under his breath, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Hi." I greeted back with what I was sure it looked like a smitten smile. "I brought you Tylenol." He muttered a relieved 'thank god', propping himself on his forearms to take first the medicine and then the glass of water I was offering him. "I'm gonna stay put for a little while." I informed him, taking back the now empty glass to place it on the cramped nightstand. "If I'm sleeping and you start to feel like you're dying, wake me up."

It was a half joke, but Steve only furrowed his brows. "Wait are you gonna sleep on that?" He pointed at my chair with disgust while going back to his previous position.

"Where the hell do you want me to sleep?" I asked rhetorically with the intention of pointing out the lack of free sleeping places in the house, but I got a response.

"Lay down with me?"

I would be lying if I said I wasn't tempted by the offer, but it just seemed wrong, so with a halfhearted smile, I shook my head no.

"Had to try." Steve clicked his tongue, poorly hiding his own disappointment. "Night, Henderson."

"Night, Harrington." I mumbled back, folding my arms over the mattress and resting my chin on them.

"Thank you." Had we not been in complete silence, the dozed off boy's words would have been inaudible. "For everything." He added, finding my fingers with his own and lazily intertwining them.

My heart skipped a bit at the touch and I silently cursed myself, because I was definitely crushing on Steve Harrington.

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sailtomarina · 5 months

Text

A Winter Ball for Two

Draco x Hermione | @hp-yuletide-bliss Day 9: Winter ball | WC 2050 | Rating: T

She was enchanting.

Draco could at least admit that.

He might find his tongue tied up in knots, or find sudden, intense interest in the cracks of the castle walls wherever she drew near, but he could not deny that Hermione Granger looked like a winter fairy dressed and glowing as she was in the flickering light of the hundreds of candles floating above their heads.

The Great Hall was decked from corner to corner with its usual Christmas icing, but additional care had been taken to make the event feel extra special in light of the school’s inaugural Winter Ball, to be held annually after their Eighth and final year. The students had truly pulled out all of the stops with their eagerness to bring joy back to the haunted halls of their youth.

Granger spearheaded those efforts as Head Girl, delegating tasks to Professors, Prefects, and volunteers alike. Draco might have been spared if not for his best mate being her counterpart as Head Boy. Theo refused to let Draco hide himself away in his dorm room, or, on the rare occasion, the library. He’d found himself dragged to the Heads’ private rooms and pressured into providing any valuable input the sole child of Narcissa Malfoy could give. He’d grown up in the lap of luxury, after all. Organizing and attending balls were as natural to Draco as riding a broomstick.

He’d expected to be left alone with Theo in the common room, for Granger to avoid him like the plague that he was. He’d seen how others couldn’t help but stare at his arm, as if willing his mark to burn through the sleeve.

She hadn’t done that.

Granger sat in with them most nights, curling up in an armchair, her armchair as Draco started to see it, cushioned by squishy pillows and swimming in a blanket large enough for a Quidditch team. She started plying them with treats and hot beverages, even going so far as to remember their likes and dislikes and supplying accordingly.

Knowing what she did of his family and home, and bearing the weights of their past, Granger was surprisingly curious about his experiences. She asked him about his family traditions, his most memorable gifts. His experiences growing up in the Malfoy household were much gentler than Theo’s, whose sole comfort had been his mother, one lost after her untimely death.

They, in turn, learned about her and, by default, Muggle traditions.

“I’m telling you, Granger, Father Christmas has to be a wizard. I mean, how could he not be? Fireplaces? Flying reindeer? Time manipulation?”

Theo had taken the opportunity to steal the witch’s chair when she’d gone for a tea refill, and she’d been forced to join Draco on the sofa to address his theory.

“Doesn’t it strike you as odd how entrenched he is in Muggle tradition? It makes me wonder just what kind of man he was–was he simply a philanthropist who wanted to bring joy to all children, Muggle and Magical, rich and poor, no matter their nationality or beliefs, or did he have some other underlying agenda?”

They’d gone on to argue over whether or not one wore pajamas to open Christmas presents–the only way Draco would ever concede would be if she showed up in crimson lingerie, otherwise clothing appropriate for pictures and visitors it was–as well as their expected courses at the dinner table. They both agreed Yorkshire pudding and redcurrant jelly were requirements, but Draco had put his foot down at her insistence that roast beef could be anywhere near the level of a perfectly prepared turkey.

“Why not both?” Theo mused.

“Shut it, Theo,” Draco snapped, “I don’t want to hear that from a wizard who eats his weight in sausage rolls every Christmas.”

Theo had merely winked, sending Granger into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, yes, Theo does love his sausages,” she managed to get out, before dissolving once more into laughter. Draco refused to acknowledge how cute he found the snorts that peppered her glee.

And now, here he was, lurking behind one of the many towering fir trees lining the Great Hall and attempting to blend into the foliage.

It hadn’t been difficult to avoid notice. Very few students, or even teachers, paid him much attention other than to glare or mutter insults. The sooner he could leave, the better. He wanted to be here as much as others did, which meant not at all.

“Why don’t you ask her to dance?”

Of course, Potter would find him.

Draco turned to face his long-time rival, taking in his relaxed stance, the bulkier form he’d built in his time since those days as Undesirable No. 1. Adulthood looked good on Potter.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” He ignored the question, choosing to redirect instead.

Bright green eyes flashed, and Draco couldn’t help but feel like he’d been easily read. Then, in a curious show of nerves, Potter bit his lip and looked off into the crowd.

“I couldn’t resist.”

Draco traced the line of sight. He saw Granger dancing with Theo, her head thrown back in a laugh, the graceful line of her neck bare and delicate. He searched for the expected fiery red hair of the Weaslette, only to find her far off to the right and decidedly not the target of Potter’s desire. So, who was he looking at?

A horrifying thought tickled the back of his mind.

Was he looking at Granger?

“Why don’t you ask her to dance?” he found himself asking the same question he’d dodged earlier.

Had they found love during their lost year, despite Weasley’s presence? Had Draco stumbled across some sort of love triangle? Granger had never indicated her attachment to anyone, but Draco had assumed the obvious. How could anyone not fall for her in close proximity like they’d been?

“Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose?” One thick, black brow rose in consideration as Potter stared straight at him, his arms now crossed over his chest.

“What do you mean?” Draco was confused. Defeat the purpose of what?

He nearly let his younger self sneer out an insult at the way those eyes rolled into Potter’s head.

“How can I spend any time with Theo if I’m dancing with Hermione?”

Wait, what?

Potter and…Theo?

“No offense, but how? And when?” Draco asked, nearly sputtering in disbelief.

“Well, I’d have thought the intricacies of gay sex would lie outside of your particular interests, but if you really want–” He broke off with a laugh at Draco’s choked gasp. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. You make it so easy sometimes, Malfoy.”

“I do not,” he muttered. He hated that Theo and Granger both said the exact same thing.

“I’d heard about how he helped last year here at the castle from Neville, the way he was there for the younger kids no matter their house or blood status. That couldn’t have been easy for someone with his background.”

That knowledge had surprised Draco, as well. He hadn’t been around last year, either, but it didn’t take long for Theo’s actions to make themselves known throughout their mutual circles. Theo’s father had been…less than pleased, but that hadn’t stopped his mate from doing whatever he could to help. Theo was a better man than Draco, by far.

“So when Hermione brought him around, I already had a good impression. After meeting him, though?” Potter’s face softened, his expression wistful as he glanced back towards the dance floor. “How could I not fall for him?”

Not only was he the Chosen One, the damn Savior of the Wizarding World, but he was every bit the sort of person Draco would have wanted for his closest friend. He was brave and, Draco could admit it now, kind.

One song ended, then another began, slower, sweeter. Draco summoned up every bit of courage he could find. There wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“Let’s go, Potter.”

Again with the arched brow. Then, a crooked smile, one Draco couldn’t help but reciprocate.

Within moments, he stood before her, sweat building at the nape of his neck. He resisted the urge to wipe his hands against his robes. She turned at his approach, her partner now also facing away towards Potter.

“Malfoy? Is there something wrong?”

Sweet Salazar.

Her skin was flushed in the heat of her movements, tiny curls spilling out of her updo and framing her face in a way that had him yearning to brush them back, to lean in and breathe in deep. Her chest rose and fell heavily, chestnut irises pierced through with flecks of gold staring up at him in question.

“Would you do me the honor of this dance?”

Curiosity melded into pleasure, her lips spreading wide to show off her perfect smile. He wanted to make her smile like that everyday.

“It would be my pleasure.”

She placed her hand in his, and he smoothly moved it up to his shoulder, stepping in close to sweep her up into his arms. It didn’t matter what song played, or whether or not she knew the steps–as far as he was concerned, there was nobody else but them. Hermione seemed just as caught in the moment as he, her face upturned and rosy lips parted as she traced his features like she meant to memorize the moment for the future. He knew he would.

She floated weightlessly in his embrace, her steps following him without hesitation. A raise of his arm and a spin had him admiring the silver-white twirl of her skirt around her slender legs. It didn’t matter what she wore, however. He still would have thought her just as enchanting were she in her favorite joggers, her mane tied up in a wand as it often was.

“You look beautiful.”

She blushed at the praise, eyes darting away for a split second like she couldn’t believe him.

“So do you.” Her head jerked back and eyes widened comically, and she hastened to correct herself. “I mean, you look handsome. Your robes, they bring out your eyes.”

He found it impressive that she could blush even deeper, and couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “I don’t mind ‘beautiful’, but you’re free to compliment me however you’d like.”

The hand that was resting on his shoulder came up to thwack him lightly on the back of the head.

“Ow!”

“That’s for teasing me,” she said with a scowl, but he could tell she didn’t really mean it.

“As long as you don’t punch me in the nose again.” Could that have been the moment that she really caught his attention? Not her blood status, nor her annoying academic superiority, but her swift right hook?

Her head tilted one way, then the other. “I don’t think I will. I quite like your nose how it is.”

Well, in that case.

He brought his face down closer to her own, and she squeaked at the sudden nearness of him.

Fucking adorable.

“Hermione?”

She stared unblinkingly back at him, as caught by the sound of her name on his lips as she was by his proximity. “Yes?” she whispered, so softly it was only his eyes on her lips that read the word.

“Would you let me take you out this weekend?”

“Out?” she echoed, still barely audible.

“Out. You. Me. A date.”

“A date?”

Had he broken her? She looked lost, like she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming. Maybe he’d read her all wrong, and the perceived closeness of the past weeks was nothing but his imagination. Perhaps his request blindsided her, coming from someone she only saw as a friend of a friend, or, worse, someone she barely tolerated.

The possibilities roared through his head and his movement slowed, no longer hearing the music. He wanted to leave. He should have left earlier, before Potter and his bloody bravery.

“I’m going to–”

“Yes.”

Strings and woodwinds roared back to full volume, laughter from the other dancers surrounding them as he returned to the ball. To Hermione. She looked up at him now, serious, expectant.

“Yes?”

Hope unfurled like the spreading warmth of a crackling fire as her lips turned upward and creases formed at the corners of her eyes.

“Yes.”

Cross-posted to Tumblr and AO3

Well, this certainly went a tad deeper than I had intended. I wasn’t planning on doing much backstory on their relationship, but couldn’t help myself with Theo in the mix. He’s such a darling, and I loved inserting a bit of him and Harry into the background.

#hp yuletide bliss #christmas hp fest #dramione #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy x hermione granger #draco malfoy #hermione granger

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timptoe · 1 year

Text

What Bards Sing About

Welp, the Dragon Age: Absolution brainrot set in and this fell out of me. So enjoy some absolute fluff about my new favorite Dragon Age pairing: four times Lacklon notices Roland and blames it on his legs. Read it on Ao3.

----

His legs are too long.

Lacklon grumbles to himself as he clambers over the fallen log in the middle of the path. Already this job is too much trouble. This is not gonna be the type of job that gets you mentioned in a verse in a bard’s epic tale. That’s reserved for the Lords of Fortune who find exceptional treasure, or battle dastardly villains, or defeat hordes of hideous monsters. They write songs about jobs that have the right balance of danger and beauty and—most of all—success.

But this job’s just a right piece of nugshit.

Start with the fact that they’re being led by an elf who clearly doesn’t want to be here. Definitely a good choice, giving the girl who wants out the job of finding a way in. Not to mention, she’s obviously a runaway slave who’s gonna turn tail and book it as soon as it really hits her where they’re going. Excellent first move. Dumbasses.

Then you’ve got the two mages. On the one hand, you’ve got the qunari—super popular in Tevinter, so definitely not gonna be a problem there. Definitely gonna be easy to stay out of sight with a seven foot tall horned woman who specializes in making explosions. Definitely. And on the other hand, you’ve got the nice one.

Nice people always have a hidden agenda.

Not to mention the two Orlesians. Ugh, Orlesians. So concerned about which fork to use at dinner they can’t see that everyone at dinner’s an asshole. Take Fairbanks. Too easy-going to be the guy who’s funding this, so of course he’s not, he’s representing the fucking Inquisition. Because that’s not a mountain’s worth of pressure right there. The best patrons, in Lacklon’s experience, are the anonymous ones who stay home and stay out of his way. How’s he gonna do his thing with the goddamn keeper of the coin who reports to the Herald of fucking Andraste breathing down his neck? Plus—and he can’t emphasize this enough—Fairbanks is the one who put the runaway slave at the front of the line. Nugshit for brains. And as for Roland…

Well. Roland’s legs are too long.

Said warrior takes this moment to turn around, eyebrow arched and an easygoing grin playing across his lips. The sunlight through the leaves of the forest dapples his dark skin in golden light, reminiscent of the shine on his buckler and breastplate. The purple of his doublet complements his emerald-green eyes perfectly, and the crows-feet at the corners of his eyes give hint to that echoing, honey-accented laugh.

“All right back there?”

Lacklon blinks. When did he stop walking?

He grimaces and pushes past Roland, ignoring the heat on his cheeks, muttering, “Everything about this is a mistake.” Roland just grins and hums.

Anyway, his legs are too long.

—

His legs are so long.

Lacklon rolls to the side as Roland’s blade hits the space he’d just occupied. He plants the end of his axe in the ground, using the momentum from his roll and the leverage from his weapon to spring back to his feet. He swings the haft of the axe up just in time to block Roland’s next slice.

It’s not that the Orlesian is faster than him. Lacklon’s pretty damn fast—you have to be, to be a Lord of Fortune. Well, a good one at least. Never know what kind of traps or guards or monsters’ teeth you’re going to have to speed past to get that sweet, sweet loot. And Lacklon’s really good at what he does. Not good enough yet to get in one of the songs yet, but good enough to still be alive. No, it’s not that Roland is faster than him.

It’s that he can cover the distance Lacklon moves in half the time because his legs are so damn long.

Lacklon shoves Roland backward, giving him space to rear back with his axe and come down in a great cleave aimed at Roland’s pauldron. Or rather, where his pauldron had been, except he’s pivoted on those long goddamn legs in a beautiful circle to bring his buckler up, smashing Lacklon’s axe to the side and pointing the tip of his sword at Lacklon’s throat.

Lacklon wastes no time, carrying the momentum from his parried axe around in a circle to knock the sword away, giving him the perfect opening to headbutt Roland in the stomach. Roland dances backwards, grinning before pivoting his weight on those long legs to spring back forward. They lock weapons briefly.

And then Roland fucking winks at him.

Locklon’s eyes narrow as his heart races—from the exertion of the sparring session, sure—and he spits out, “If you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work.”

Ancestors’ tits, that man’s eyes are piercing.

“Besides,” he grunts, pushing the taller man’s sword back, “your girlfriend’s still gotta find a way into the palace.”

For the first time since they met, he sees a look other than of charming joy or beautiful determination cross Roland’s face. It’s hard to name, exactly. Surprise? Befuddlement? Whatever it is, it parts his full lips in a—

Nevermind, it only lasts a second anyway. Long enough for Lacklon to push him completely off his axe. Long enough for Roland to recompose his features, his eyebrow shooting up and those lips twisting into the most cocky grin Lacklon’s ever seen. He says, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

He strides on those long legs back across the courtyard to get a drink of water, as Lacklon wonders what the look on his own face says.

Probably just oh.

—

His legs are very long.

That’s the immediate thought that Lacklon’s brain spits out. Maybe it’s because he’s tired from fighting so many damn zombies. Maybe it’s the toothy grin on Roland’s face that’s taken his damn breath away. Maybe it’s the headrush from being suddenly bent backward over Roland’s knee in a perfect dip that even the most ardent dance instructor would probably call “a bit much.”

Because that’s where Lacklon is at the moment. Swept off his goddamn feet like the belle of the fucking ball over Roland’s perfect leg and Ancestors burn in their tombs if he doesn’t love it just a little bit.

Whatever the reason, all his poor addled brain can focus on during this frozen moment in time is that, in order for Roland’s beautiful face to be just the right height above his own, for Roland’s strong arms to be wrapped around his body in just the right way to support his weight, for Roland’s knee to be nestled in the small of his back just so, then Roland’s legs must be very long.

His second thought is, This is the kind of thing bards write songs about.

The warrior leans down ever-so-slightly, one hand adjusting its position behind Lacklon’s back. Lacklon’s breath quickens as Roland’s eyebrow arches, matching his mischievous grin. His weathered skin stretches around the look of impish glee, at odds with their dire situation but perfectly suited for his features. It’s beautiful.

He’s beautiful.

“Rolls,” Lacklon says breathlessly as his brain whirls, his axe forgotten at his side, “w-what are you doing?” Never in his whole goddamn life has he ever stuttered like that, but he can’t find it within him to care.

Because he never wants to stop looking at Roland’s face.

Roland’s grin stretches wider as he responds in that honey-soaked accent, “Improvising.”

Before Lacklon can parse the meaning of that word, Roland scoops Lacklon around his body, his knee pushing up and his arms twisting in one fluid motion as he stands Lacklon up and rips the bag of grenades off of Lacklon’s hip and throws the whole goddamn bag of grenades at the zombie horde.

Lacklon looks on in horror, yelling “No!” while the bag sails through the air. Roland pulls him in the opposite direction, the whole hallway going up in a multicolored conflagration of light and fire and smoke. The force of it pushes the two of them into the air, and Lacklon lands on his back, Roland on top of him. Protecting him.

It lasts for a heartbeat. It lasts for forever.

All too soon, Roland rolls off of him. And immediately collapses into laughter. Lacklon takes half a moment to just lay on his back, his heart pounding in his ears. This is the weirdest fucking job.

He sits up, watching Roland continue to giggle into his hand. Lacklon grasps at what to do, what to say. Thank you for saving me. Or, I love the way you laugh. Or, your legs are very long.

What comes out of his mouth is, “You had to use the whole damn bag?”

Eh. This is why other people write the songs.

—

His legs are nicely long.

Okay, fine. Ancestors’ beards but Roland is a damn good looking man. For a human. From Orlais.

Okay, for any species from anywhere whatever.

Lacklon knew from the beginning this job was gonna be too much trouble. And guess what? He was right. There’s a mad magister and an animated corpse and a fucking dragon just on the other side of that wall, with his friend in their clutches. But as he looks at tall-dark-and-handsome over there, he thinks, Maybe trouble isn’t so bad.

Because if he’s gonna be in trouble, Roland’s the guy he wants to be in it with.

Start with the fact that he’s a damn good fighter. Not a lot of people in the guild can keep up with Lacklon swing for swing—hell, not a lot of people outside the guild can keep up with him—but Roland definitely can and then some. Fairbanks wanted them to be in synch and they more than delivered. Lacklon’s never fought side-by-side with someone who knows exactly where he’ll be before he gets there, who can take out the shambling corpse on his blind side while he focuses on the four in front of him, who fights like he knows how to dance.

He’s a damn good planner, too. Even now, with Miriam in the maw of hell and the three of them out of options, Roland’s somehow come up with an actual plan to rescue her. A plan that might even work, that fully utilizes all of their skills, including the seven foot tall horned woman who specializes in making explosions.

And he’s fucking beautiful on top of everything else. The way his lips, even now in the middle of planning for an impossible rescue, carry the hint of a smile on them. The way his ‘locs cascade over his shoulders, framing his face like a portrait in a museum. The way his eyes sparkle like gems in a vault just waiting to be discovered. The way his legs—his very nice, very long legs—tuck underneath him as he sits on the ground. Lacklon has never seen anyone who carries themselves with Roland’s particular combination of grace and elegance and kick-ass confidence.

Fuck it. He’s gonna do it. Don’t think about it just do it.

Roland’s in the middle of capping off the plan by telling Qwydion, “Just make sure you wait for my signal, and—“ when Lacklon pulls him down into a rough kiss.

It’s quick, fast like Locklan’s fast. He doesn’t waste time, just pulls Roland’s full lips into his and oh Ancestors it’s amazing. Maybe a little stilted. Roland clearly wasn’t expecting it, so he’s a little stiff. But still, worth it.

He lets Roland’s neck go and leans back. Okay. Okay, that was good. Great, time to move on, now he can ju—

Roland grins and swoops back in. This time, there’s no stiffness. He melts into Lacklon’s lips, bringing one gloved hand up to cup Lacklon’s cheek. His caress feels like protection and strength and the strumming of a lute at the beginning of a song.

He tastes like sunshine.

Lacklon kisses him back, tentatively. This isn’t his first kiss, not by a long shot, but something about this is…new. Exceptional. The right balance of danger and beauty and success.

Wonderful.

All too soon, Roland pulls back, smiling. Lacklon starts to get lost in that smile before he spies Qwydion out of the corner of his eye. She looks absolutely gobsmacked, and he realizes that he just kissed his friend while a fucking dragon is waiting outside. Suddenly embarrassed, he huffs and says, “What?” When she just continues to stare, he mutters, “This is the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard. We’re all gonna die here so…” He turns on his heel, walking away.

Behind him, he hears Roland in his honey-dripped voice say, “About damn time.”

Lacklon grins. Not bad for the first verse of his own epic song.

#dragon age #dragon age absolution #lacklon #roland #lacklon x roland #rolack #someone come up with a ship name for them #because I love them so much and want to write all the things #they are beautiful #and absurd #like the best pairings are #my writing

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bearmemesreviews · 2 months

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Skylanders Review: Stealth Elf

Let's continue our adventure in Skylands with our first female Skylander, Stealth Elf!

Another body type you'll see often is...well, "girl". You'll see what amounts to a fairly humanoid woman whose main concept is "action girl" a lot, though they do at least experiment well when it comes to posing. The originator is Stealth Elf, who got ascended from Extra to main character in the tv show as the girl of the main trio. Though that's disingenuous, Stealth Elf is one of the "Elite" Skylanders, which means she gets a new figure almost every game.

Let's see what her deal is!

[Image: Stealth Elf is a humanoid...elf, with green skin and elongated pointy ears. All her clothing is made of brown leather, including her fingerless gloves, boots, leggings, skirt, V-neck crop-top, and Ninja-esque facemask. She has golden straps fastened around her gloves and boots. Her shoes have a cleft, indicating that she only has two toes on each foot. She has raspberry blue hair in a single long braid that reaches her lower back. Her eyes glow a solid vibrant blue with no visible irises or pupils.]

Stealth Elf is very clearly not my type of concept, as I never cared for Elves in most capacities played straightforward like she is. Though making her a ninja is a fun twist, and I remember liking her a lot in the Netflix show. There's this episode involving Ninjini (I'll get to her when we reach Giants) and Stelfy that I remember the most from the series.

She's a very simple design, and her face mask helps sell her ninja aspects while not putting her into a fully black ninja outfit. This however does not mean she doesn't get one down the line.

As Elves are natural beings who love and guard nature, Stealth on the shelf is our first Life Elemental Skylander. Life is also another Neutral type, for characters whose designs don't really read enough like the other elements, but also lacks the fantastical elements needed to be a Magic type. She was found as a young child in an old tree by a ninja master who was also one of the many sentient tree-people in the Skylands. Which is kind of like finding a baby primate nestled within the corpse of one of your distant cousins.

With no memory of where she came from, the orphan elf was raised with the art of ninjutsu TMNT style until her skills surpassed her master's, so she went off to Eon's place to learn how to improve her Element specific abilities and hopes to find out her true origins during her travels.

Not sure what else to talk about her, since she's a fairly solid design even if she doesn't really hit any marks that make me, personally, a fan of hers. I don't dock points if something doesn't satisfy my personal preferences.

Since I have nothing else to talk about, why not share these hard as hell images from a Skylanders spin-off game posted by @yourlocaltoad.

Motto: "Silent but Deadly" - Yes this is a fart joke, even though it doesn't fit but at least it works with her being a ninja. Bet they regret not saving this for the Ninja Skunk man they make later. 2/5.

Stealth Elf gets Three Chompies. Not my thing, but I can't fault her for that.

Stealth Elf unfortunately did not get a horrific Party City Halloween costume. SAD.

#skylanders #bmoreviewsskylanders #bmoreviews #skylanders spyro's adventure #stealth elf #elf

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spasmsofthought · 1 month

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still waters (scott forrester x f!reader)

Hi!! FBI International is one of my favorite shows and Scott Forrester has intrigued me from the start. I know this is a small fandom, but it's a show that brings me great joy. Something about episode 3x6 just really hit me and I ending up writing this. Please like, comment, & reblog! Enjoy!! xoxo

+++

"If this doesn't get better fast," You mutter just over your breath. "I'm going to end up punching someone."

There's not enough volume to your statement for Detective Novak to overhear, but it slips out just loud enough that Scott perks up and turns his gaze towards you as he walks by you on his way down the hallway. You barely succeed in covering the dark look you were about to throw the Czech officer.

He raises his eyebrows, "Do I need to send you out on a walk too?" His hand points in the direction Vo just went out of the local precinct, following his orders to cool off.

You can't help it. It's not as if you can shut your feelings off and just be analytical about this. Cameron may be running point on this case because of her own experience in helping assault survivors and her newly, and rightly earned, seniority on the Fly Team, but you have just as much stake in this developing case as her. There's a reason Scott made sure you were here with him and Vo and not with Raines or Garretson.

Detective Novak chooses to make her exit silently as she passes around you and Scott.

You breathe out a heavy exhale and hold his gaze for a moment, "No."

You lean back for support as cross your arms and bend one of your legs to put your foot against the wall and stare at the green paint across from you. Disassociating is better than letting tears cloud your vision. Anything is better than getting sucked into that black hole again.

Scott steps into your space instead of retreating, forcing you to place your foot on the ground and straighten your posture. He takes another step forward until there is very little space between the two of you.

"I know that you lead with your heart," His voice is just barely over a whisper and brushing against your cheeks. His focus on you is intense and all-consuming. "But right now, I need your head in this too."

"There's a reason I never completed my J.D.," You begin. His gaze doesn't waver. Scott is dialed in on you. You remember what your mother used to say to you as a girl, Still waters run deep, darling. You haven't even begun to reach the bottom of him yet. "I went with law enforcement because I know how easy it is for a girl like Ali to get lost in the red tape. I'm less frustrated with the fact that rape and assault laws are criminally behind here and more frustrated with the fact that I come from a country that doesn't hold the moral high ground. Change a few details and circumstances, and we're in the States on the same 'ole merry-go-round with the same kind of ending."

You take a breath. There's a moment of silence as Scott looks at you, somehow knowing that you aren't finished.

"And as much as you empathize, as much as you apply your knowledge from working cases like these for years, you will never 100% understand what it will mean for Ali when you go in there and tell her that her only two options are to either be arraigned for assault and kicked out of a country before she receives the justice she is owed or take down a social media post that is her only viable option for recourse right now."

You squeeze your eyes shut and bring your palms against your face for a moment. You feel Scott lean in. You push the tears back, but they linger just slightly.

When you open your eyes, his face is just centimeters away, "I get that this is our only move right now, but we're supposed to be pushing for better options now. We're supposed to be breaking ground, not just calling out the breaks in the pavement and watching someone else trip over them."

One of Scott's hands lightly brushes over your hair, trailing around your ear and then landing on your shoulder for a second. "I know."

He reaches down to squeeze your hand, "I know."

You breathe the same air for a solitary moment before you both know you need to move onto your responsibilities.

"I'll call Andre and Megan and update them." You nod at him, moving to step away, but he holds you against him for one heartbeat, two. Your breath catches.

"We'll talk next steps after I discuss with Ali."

"Okay."

"Okay," Scott says. His thumb brushes against the fabric of your trousers resting on your waist before he steps back and makes his way down the hallway to Ali's cell.

You give yourself a moment to breathe.

#fbi international #scott forrester #scott forrester x reader #scott forrester x you #scott forrester x oc #scott forrester x f!reader #scott forrester x female reader

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goldeneyedgirl · 3 months

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do you have any more of deaf mary-alice? I love this kind of concept. I read a while ago an one shot where jasper is blind and I adore when writers explore the idea of imperfect creatures that were suppose to be perfect

Hi Anon!

I just love the idea that 'perfection' is in the eye of the beholder and that Bella really can't see beyond this 'glamour'. And really, what is perfect anyway? I know SalmonCenter started a blind Jasper fic, but I don't know if it's been posted yet.

Anyway, I'm recovering from Covid and dug two very disjointed pieces out for you. One day I will figure out the plot for this, but that day isn't today.

The last week of school, Mary-Alice makes a break for it. He thinks it’s funny because the Cullens have made the mistake of treating Mary-Alice like a child. She’s slight, and she’s been so isolated for so long, it’s easy to mistake her wonder and delight for innocence or childishness. There’s no human reference point for any of these new experiences, and he thinks that the Cullens forget that. And Mary-Alice has been very tolerant of their … supervision thus far.

So the fact that she’s waited til now to escape Esme’s watchful eye was very diplomatic.

She’s sitting on the picnic tables outside the school; she’s managed to put together an outfit that doesn’t look too out of place - a long black skirt and tank top with one of his jackets over the entire ensemble. She’s even remembered shoes.

“Esme’s losing her mind,” Edward says, as soon as they spot her. “She shouldn’t have left without telling her.”

Jasper ignores him because Mary-Alice is beaming at him.

“So this is school?” She asks, crossing her legs as he joins her.

“This is the school,” he says, setting down his bag to absently kiss her on the forehead. “Second last day, and I never have to set foot in this place again.”

Mary-Alice makes a face before she leans up for a real kiss, playfulness and lust sparking through her. “I think it looks …” she begins, before Edward and Bella walk up, some of Bella’s human friends trailing after them, clearly curious about the girl in black.

“Hello Mary-Alice,” Edward says verbally, his hand clasped in Bella’s. It��s a slight against her, mostly likely from a combination of worrying Esme and showing up at the school. Mary-Alice’s response is in Spanish, pointedly, more amused by Edward than annoyed.

“This is Bella,” Jasper says, since Edward is clearly disinclined to make introductions. “And Bella’s friends.” He honestly hasn’t been paying close enough attention to them to know who is who, and he’s hoping that Bella will jump in.

But of course not. Forks High is not a school that has a noticeable population of disabled students - there are less than ten in the whole school, and more than half of those students have invisible disabilities. And none of them are Deaf, so Mary-Alice’s very polite greeting is left awkwardly hanging, Bella looking at Edward mildly alarmed.

“I don’t…” Bella begins and Jasper rolls his eyes.

“She said hello to you,” he says firmly. “Mary-Alice also lipreads.”

“Jasper can translate,” Edward adds unhelpfully and Mary-Alice gives him an unimpressed look.

“We’ll walk home,” Jasper says and Mary-Alice brightens. She’s still not entirely trusting of the cars, and has kept a wide berth between her and Rosalie’s garage. And he really loves how calm and happy she is in the forest.

Jane doesn’t discriminate when she hits them with her gift - Emmett’s knees buckle and his eyes widen as he chokes, and Rosalie’s terror and rage curdles around him, as she moves to try and… comfort? her husband. Bree is curled so tightly and panting that he’s surprised she hasn’t cracked a limb.

Jasper’s moving to help Rose with Emmett when he feels it. He feels it before he hears it, and it makes his blood run cold.

The cry she lets out is high and thin, and he hates that. He hates that the pain ripping through her body is so bad she cried out, her body almost locked into position. The panic swirling underneath the surface is too much, and grabbing a hold of her magnifies it so much.

He can hear himself yelling, clutching her tighter, and she’s making these terrible, gasping cries like she’s being suffocated, and he’s going to kill Jane, he’s going to break her into tiny little pieces and scatter them where no one can find them.

(It’ll haunt him, that moment with Jane. Even moreso later, when they are tucked up in his study and she buries her face in his chest and tells him she wants to go home. It feels like failure when she says that.)

#alice cullen #jasper hale #jalice #my fic: deaf mary-alice

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cousticks · 4 months

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hmmm...excluding yosano and kyouka, who is your favourite bsd girl character?

Favorite characters in general is always a tough one for me, but I'll ramble about a few of the girlies because I just adore them.

Absolute favorite is probably Kouyou, hands down. She's just really interesting to me. She has this past of dreams being shot down, but she now has enough power she could probably leave the mafia if she wanted to, but has found her own place there now. She's not the scared little girl that ran away anymore. In a way, she's content there. She didn't want to see Kyouka get broken down the same way she did, and again. If Kouyou found her footing in the mafia, couldn't Kyouka be happy there too? (The answer is no. Some flowers bloom in darkness, but not all, of course.) In a way she kind of parallels Verlaine and Kyouka with Chuuya, where in trying not to let their younger mirrors experience the same pain they did, they're inflicting a whole new set of violence and agony on them instead. And so the cycle repeats. She... kind of sucks, but she's so interesting and has really muddied motivations and morals that I love to unpack.

Gin is nonbinary in my heart, but since as far as canon goes she's a girl, I'll include her because I love her very much. Especially Beast!Gin, who's the most functional out of any mafia character in that damn novel. Shout out to her specifically for keeping her shit (mostly) together. I love her in the normal universe too, though. She's not overshadowed by being Akutagawa's little sister, she's managed to carve her own path. Especially as someone so surrounded by powerful ability users, she's so impressive. It takes a truly incredible assassin to hold your own in that kind of world, and she does far more than just hold her own. She's intelligent and resourceful and still manages to have a life for herself outside of the mafia, too. Good for her.

In the realm of ability-less younger siblings: Naomi. I'll be honest her canon character gives me hives whenever her brother is around and I try to ignore, well, you know. But when you look at her actions, that girl is damn intelligent and crafty. And has the potential to be a masterful manipulator. She's not the ditz she pretends she is, and I'd love to see more of her resourcefulness one day. She's clever. She picks up on things. I like her as her own character and hope she can stop being the butt of a joke long enough to see her skills put to use.

I can't talk about girls without my favorite girlboss girlfail Higuchi. I just love her in general. You know that post about girls feeling more confident/better in general when they have a sword in their hand? I feel like thats Higuchi with her guns. We've seen her show skill with multiple arms with ease, she can bait people into a trap no problem, is a dedicated and trusted mafia member, and if she could work on her self confidence as an independent operative could be something so so special (even though she already is.) She cares about people. But she's also so shoot-first-ask-questions-later that she messes it up. She definitely reads trashy romance novels in her free time and I hope she has the time to reread all her favorites. Adore her.

#asks? answered. hotel? trivago.#placeholder kouyou tag #placeholder gin tag #placeholder naomi tag #placeholder higuchi tag #casper the friendly ghost

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imtooscaredforthis · 1 year

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Tethered

Part III- Chapter 25: Help

Mentions of: Blood, Injury, Slight Threats, and that’s it tbh.

A/N: Ik, just a development chapter, but we’ll have more spicy stuff coming soon, I promise!

Tags: @prettycutebunny @vandeaad @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @moonshineinasippycup

For some reason, The Entity seemed to be merciful with you lately, not putting you in as many trials, and giving you more time to rest. While that was nice, it also left you bored.

Survivors would come and go, some you talked to, some you didn’t. But it had gotten to the point where no one was around, just a few survivors littered here and there, none paying attention to you.

You glanced over your shoulder at the woods behind you. The others had told you to stay away, that it was the beginning of Killer territory, but it couldn’t be that bad, could it? You just wanted to look around for a bit. Who knows, maybe you’ll find a clue from your past.

So, you slipped away from the campfire, wandering over to the woods. It was dark in the woods, dark and quiet, eerily quiet. Besides the occasional crows cawing, or the twigs snapping under your feet. In a way, it was kind of peaceful.

And then, you heard something. A scream. Rather than running away from it, you found yourself running towards it. You didn’t know what you were doing, but it was all instinct, so you decided to trust it.

You spotted a pink haired girl, doubled over and kneeling down. You recognized the metal jaws digging into her foot as one of Trapper’s bear traps. You’ve had enough experiences with the traps to remember what they are, and they suck.

You could hear her sniffling as she tried to wiggle her foot out, approaching her carefully. She was dressed similarly to that Legion guy, and you didn’t recognize her from the campfire, so you could only assume she was a killer.

But when she saw you walking over, she seemed so scared. She had no mask on her face, so you could see the tears streaming down it, and her braced teeth grinding together, trying to hide her whimpers of pain. “Stay away.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help.” You told her. “I know those traps can be tricky, and they hurt like a bitch, but if you hold still, I can help you out of it.”

After trying to get out on her own, she relented. You managed to pry the jaws open, releasing her foot. She slipped her foot out from the trap, sighing in relief.

Still, you could tell she was in a lot of pain, barely able to put any pressure on her foot, blood seeping through her sock and sneaker. She tried to turn away, but she was unable to move.

“If you want, I can grab a med kit from the campfire.” You offered. “Alright, fine.”

“Okay. Stay put. I’ll be back in a few.” You told her, before turning away and running back to the campfire.

After a brief search through the chest survivors typically grab their items from, you found a ranger med kit. It was one of the best out of all the med kits, and had everything you needed.

“Here you go.” You said, once you returned, sitting on your knees and popping the kit open, handing her some gel dressings, a gauze roll, scissors, and a styptic agent. That should be more than enough.

She opened up some of the gel dressings, pulling down her sock and struggling with wiping up the blood. Clearly, she hasn’t done something like this before. “I can-”

“I got it.” She stopped you, before you could offer any more help. So, you sat back and watched as she struggled to wrap the gauze around her ankle, trying not to wrap it too tight, but not too loose either. “Ugh, can you help me with this?”

She asked, seeming embarrassed to even say the words. You smiled. “Sure.”

“So, what’s your name?” You questioned as you unwrapped her ankle and put on the styptic agent first. “Why do you want to know?”

You shrugged. “Just trying to make conversation.”

“Aren’t you scared? Don’t you hate me? I mean, I’m not on your side. I’m supposed to kill you. Why are you helping me?” She asked.

Jake’s words echoed around in your head at that. He never said anything about helping killers, just that you shouldn’t be involved with them. So technically, you’re not breaking any rules. Who knows, maybe he would see your kindness and be proud. But you know better than to think that.

“Honestly, I think this whole Killer/Survivor thing is bullshit. I mean yeah, this crab god thing is forcing us to do all this stuff, but in the end, no matter how bad you are, we’re all still human, and sometimes, we need help, and that’s okay.” You ranted.

She grinned at you. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

You smiled in return as you finished bandaging her ankle up. “Susie. My name’s Susie. What’s yours?”

“(Y/n).” You replied. At least you could remember that much about yourself.

She slipped her sock and shoe back on, and walked around, moving much better on it. “Thank you.”

“Of course. And you’re not going to kill me, right? Because I really don’t feel like running right now.” You remarked, only half joking.

She giggled at that. “No, consider this your one and only free pass. But uh, I guess I’ll see you around. It was…uh nice? I think? To meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. See you soon. Hopefully not hanging from a butcher hook, but you know, whatever happens happens.” You shrugged.

“We’ll see.” She laughed, walking off into the forest, while you walked back to the campfire.

Maybe Jake was wrong. Maybe not all of these killers were so bad. You did just have a nice conversation with that girl, after all. So maybe..maybe Frank wasn’t that bad either.

Not that you’d ever get involved with him. He has a girlfriend and you don’t even know him. You don’t know why you feel some weird pull towards him, but it’s not like you’ll do anything about it.

Right now, all you want is to focus on surviving and getting your memories back.

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