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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 22 days

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Enchanted to Meet You - Colin Bridgerton

A/N: I am so hype for the new season, and Colin isn't even my favorite Bridgerton sibling. When I was thinking of who should get Enchanted, I knew the story had to happen at a beautiful ball, so really this was one of the only choices. (There may be more Enchanted inspired fics, who's to say!) Hope you enjoy!

TS Prompt #6: Enchanted

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Reader Word Count: 3.0k Synopsis: After years of knowing, and not liking each other, Colin and the reader meet again at a ball, and share a magical evening together.

"Isn't that your second glass?" Eloise asks, a glass of champagne in her own gloved hand.

"No. It's my third," you say. She doesn't even try to hide the un-ladylike snort she lets out.

"I thought your mother said one."

"She did," you say, peering about the crowded ballroom for her deep red dress. "But, as this is my third ball of the season, I thought it only fitting."

"I'm sure she'll see it that way, too," Eloise says sarcastically.

It was true, this was your third ball, but the three glasses of champagne didn't really have anything to do with that. The matching numbers did add some kind of magic to the night, but truly, you just needed them to get through the evening.

It was your first year out, and after three balls, you weren't sure you would ever find someone to marry. It wasn't like you hadn't had callers. You had blossomed in the last year. So much so, that people often did a double take when they looked upon you. It wasn't so much that they weren't interested in you, but that you weren't in them.

This evening was looking to be another night of forcing laughter and faking smiles with men you had no interest in. The thought of another glass of champagne was too enthralling.

"I don't believe it," Eloise says, leaving your side. You watch her nearly run across the ballroom, and run into the arms of a man. When they break away, you see it is Colin, returned from his travels around the world.

It is hard to believe, but he has become more handsome, in his travels. You spent years and years at the Bridgerton household, and never found Colin anything other than annoying. He was the brother closest in age to Eloise, and he spent most of his time picking on the two of you.

But walking towards you now is a man. A very handsome man, whose smile seems to make your insides melt. You think you might melt, too, as he walks up to you.

"Have we met?" he says, taking your hand in his.

"Are you joking?" you ask, watching as he places a soft kiss to your gloved hand. "Colin, it's me."

"Y/N?" he asks quietly, his brow furrowed as he studies your face.

"Of course it's Y/N, you idiot," Eloise says, slapping his arm.

"You . . . you look completely different," he says.

"Bad different?"

"No, no, not bad at all," he says. He stares at you for a moment longer, seemingly speechless.

"Oh cut it out, will you?" Eloise says, "Both of you are staring like you've never seen the other before."

"Well, he looks different, too," you say, "A good different," you add, looking to him. He smiles, his mouth turned up to one end in playful amusement.

"Eloise, I hope you do not mind if I ask Miss Y/L/N to dance," he says. Eloise begins to say she does mind, but your mind is only on Colin as you drop your hand into his.

You are trembling as he leads you out onto the dancefloor. You have danced this dance hundreds of times before, and have done so to this exact song at the previous two balls. But now, the man in front of you is Colin, and that makes it completely new.

When he pulls you into his arms, your chests a touch closer than societally acceptable, you aren't breathing.

"Hello," he says softly.

"Hello," you say, as the music begins around you. Your moves are instinctual, as you let him lead you into the dance. He is still studying you, his eyes on every angle of your face. You laugh at his ministrations.

"What?" he asks.

"You act as if you don't know me."

"Well, I don't."

"I've spent nearly every summer at the Bridgerton household."

"No, that was Eloise's annoying childhood friend, that wasn't you," he says, his eyes locking on yours.

"Well, it has been a while since we've seen each other. And I have changed."

"I can tell," he says deeply. Goosebumps appear along your neck, and you watch his eyes track them.

"You've changed, too," you say, "Traveling agrees with you."

"Thank you," he says. He spins you out of his arms and back in. "How are you enjoying your first season?"

"Truthfully, it has been pretty boring so far."

"Boring?" he asks in surprise. "Don't tell me you've been a wallflower."

"Oh, on the contrary, everyone seems to notice how much I've changed," you say with a grin, making him laugh, "It's just, I haven't found their company as agreeable."

"And how about my company?" he asks, his voice quiet again.

"I'm not sure yet," you say thoughtfully, studying his face. "But so far, you are certainly a far better dancer than any of the other men I've danced with."

"Really? I'm honored."

The music comes to an end, and both of your hands linger for a moment longer on the other. The dancefloor starts to shift as couples enter and leave. You are supposed to be dancing with Lord Charmbord for the polka.

"Care to have some more fun?" Colin asks.

"What?"

"If you don't mind leaving Lord . . ." he trails off as he touches your wrist again, glancing at your dance card. "Lord Charmbord in the lurch, I'd be happy to prove that my company is much more enjoyable," he says. There is mischief in his eyes, and you know you will go wherever he wants you to.

"Where to?" you ask.

"Meet me at the fork in the gardens," he whispers in your ear, as he walks past you casually. Again, the goosebumps appear.

You walk off the dancefloor, keeping your head down so that no one, especially Lord Charmbord or your mother, see you slip out onto the terrace.

There are a few couples lingering out on the balcony, but they are too involved in their conversations to notice you move down the steps to the garden. You move silently as you look around for Colin, or anyone else.

Scandal would be sure to follow you if anyone were to catch you out here, but you can't bring yourself to care right now. This is the first time all season that you have felt anything, and you aren't going to let it go.

As you round a bend in the gardens, hands grab your waist and you nearly scream out. Quickly, though, Colin turns you around and reveals himself. You clutch a hand to your pounding heart.

"You frightened me," you say.

"I'm sorry," he says, laughter still in his eyes.

"No, you aren't," you say with a laugh.

"No, I'm not. But I am glad you met me here."

"Well, I was promised good company,” you say. Colin straightens, a smirk on his face, as he extends his arm to you.

“A promise I intend to make good on.” He leads you deeper into the maze like garden, as if he has explored it before. Before you can ask, he says, "You know, I used to play with the lord's son when we were kids. He knew where all of the hiding spots were in here, and challenged me to hunt him down. It took a few years, but I was eventually able to find all of his spots, and a few of my own."

"So if I asked you to hide right now . . ."

"You would not find me."

"You assume so little about my seeking skills?" you joke.

"No, just that my hiding ones are much more polished."

"Ah. Well, I should hate for us to have to split up, anyhow."

"As would I. You know, I still can't truly believe that you're you."

"I really haven't change, Mr. Bridgerton," you say.

"No?" he asks, looking you over thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps I have."

"You have."

"How so?" he asks, a small smile on his face. You look him over for a long moment before smiling back.

"You've gotten taller," you say. Colin lets out a tut of laughter.

"Indeed."

"But, I'm sure it's also your travels that are to blame for the man I met tonight."

"I would agree with that estimate," he says, "I learned a lot during my journeys that I am not sure I would have ever discovered at home."

"I can't help but feel envious," you say, "I've always wanted to travel, too."

"Really? Where to?" he asks.

"Anywhere, truthfully. But I've always been fascinated by Florence."

"It is truly gorgeous," he says with a nod.

"You've been?"

"I have. They have absolutely the best food of any of the places I've been. But what's more is they even have the best dances."

"The best dances?"

"Yes, they've taken our plain old quadrille and changed it into something magical," he says. He seems to notice the excitement in your eyes, because his smile only grows. "I couldn't help but notice that you're an accomplished dancer."

"Oh, please," you say, self-depreciatingly, "I'm passable, but certainly wouldn't call myself accomplished."

"I had no complaints," he says softly. He waits for you to give him a smile before continuing. "And if you spent one day in Florence, I know you would out dance every woman in there."

"They are truly that good?" you ask.

"Would you like me to show you?" he asks. He has come to a stop in the center of the gardens. A large fountain trickles softly behind him, the air moist with the shooting spouts. You study him for a moment, waiting for him to say he was joking, to turn back to the Colin you had known.

"Are you serious?" you ask.

"Of course," he says, holding out his hand.

"There's no music."

"You don't need to hear the music to feel it," he says, taking your hand in his and pulling you in close. "Just follow along. It's got the same steps as the quadrille you know, but with a little more movement."

You nod your head and focus on the moves. Without music playing, it is a little harder to get into the rhythm, but he is correct, after a few steps, you can feel the music echoing inside of you.

His hand on your waist presses slightly, making your hips move more fluidly. You are certain if anyone were to see, it would mean scandal, but you cannot fight the smile growing on your face. Again, he shows you how to add more movement into a step, bringing the two of you closer again.

You have danced through one whole song in your head, and you don't want to stop anytime soon. Never in your life before have you danced like this. You feel so free, so graceful. And it is at this feeling, that you trip on an upturned stone and crash into Colin's arms.

The music has stopped playing in your mind. There is only the soft sound of water, the trill of crickets, and your pounding heart.

You have never been this close to a man. Your chest is flush against his. You can feel his breath, and watch as he looks down, too, at your bodies pressed together.

His eyes catch yours and everything seems to slow. There is only his warm brown eyes, locked onto your own, and the hand on your back that moves softly, comfortingly.

"Colin," you whisper. He smiles widely.

"I like when you say my name."

"I've said it a million times before," you say with a laugh.

"You've never said it like that."

"We should be heading back," you say. The hand on your back grows firmer, like he would do anything to keep you against him.

"No one knows we're out here," he says.

"My mother will come looking soon."

"Y/N," he whispers, his head ducking so that his words dance over your neck. You shiver slightly, and his smile only grows.

"I see what you mean," you say, looking back up at him, "I like the way you say my name, too." The look on his face is purely prideful.

"Don't go back inside," he says.

"We'll both be ruined."

"What if I don't care?" he asks.

"You do care," you say gently, "And so do I."

"Perhaps you're right."

"I am right, Colin," you say, beginning to pull away. He pulls you back in and your lips are a breath from his. His eyes flicker between your own and your lips, that are practically begging to be kissed. Your eyes close, against your better instinct, and you lean in.

Snap!

In an impossibly quick moment, Colin has pushed you out of his arms and ducked into an alcove of the garden. You wait for someone to appear, for your reputation to be ruined, but no one comes. Another minute passes and Colin comes out.

"Perhaps, you should get back inside, Y/N."

"Where did you run off to?" you ask, jumping again at his appearance. Before he can answer, you sigh. "Right," you say with a laugh.

"Let's get you back inside," he says. "That was too close."

Colin does get you back into the ball without scandal falling on you.

When you find your mother again, her face is nearly as red as her dress. Clearly, she has not followed her own rule regarding glasses of champagne. She says that Lord Charmbord had been searching for you, but you can't even begin to pretend to care.

For the rest of the ball, your eyes are always on Colin. Unfortunately, you don't get to spend any more of the evening with him. The closest you get is a moment on the dancefloor where you briefly switch partners.

His hand meets yours at the same time his eyes do, and once again, the world around you is gone. There is only the music and his face, looking at you in a way you can't precisely name, but that you're dying to know.

But just as soon as it happens, it is over, and you are back in the arms of a man you have absolutely no interest in.

As the night comes to a close, you bid Eloise and Lady Bridgerton goodnight. You can't help peering around the both of them for Colin, but just when it appears he is not coming and you have turned towards the exit, he calls your name.

"Miss Y/L/N," he says dashingly, "I would be remiss if I didn't bid you a goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mr. Bridgerton," you say, watching as he bends down to kiss your hand. Quietly, so that only you can hear, he says, "Say it just once more, please."

"Goodnight, Colin," you whisper. When he stands up straight, he is fighting off a smile. He bids your mother goodbye, and then you are getting handed off into your carriage, and ripped away from what feels like the first real night of your life.

The ride home is quiet. You answer your mother's few questions, but when she can see you're in no mood to talk, she sinks into her own thoughts.

The countryside is dark, but as you look out upon it, you can't help but wish. Wish that this was the very first page of your story with Colin, not where your story line will end. That he was as enchanted by you as much as you were by him. And pray that he is not in love with someone else.

At home, when you finally get into bed, you are restless. You toss and turn well into the early hours, questions rolling about your mind, all about Colin.

Too early the next morning, you are awoken by a lady's maid. The day after a ball is always busy. Gentleman callers all morning, and mothers and daughters in the afternoon, to get caught up on the morning callers.

While your handmaidens go about getting you dressed and pinning your hair up, you can't help but relieve the night before. It sparkles in your mind - truly the most perfect night you could have imagined.

You pray that it is not the last, but you know that you have to remain practical. Besides the looks and smiles he gave you, Colin did not lead on that he was interested in marriage anytime soon. You, on the other hand, were very interested in getting wed off this season.

As you walk down the steps to your sitting room, you assure yourself that it will be okay, if Colin does not feel the same.

"It is too early for callers!"

At the foot of the stairs, you hear your doorman arguing in hushed tones. You can hear another voice, but not clearly enough to match the sound to its owner. Before you can open the door and find out, your mother comes bustling down the staircase and passes you.

"Who could it be at this hour!" she says, ripping open the door.

Colin Bridgerton is standing in your doorway, a bouquet of orange tulips in hand. His eyes are wide when they circle to meet yours, but then they soften.

"Y/N," he says gently. The doorman stutters a response at this lack of formality, so Colin corrects himself. "I mean, Miss Y/L/N. Mrs. Y/L/N," he says, turning to look at your mother.

"I apologize for the early arrival, but I wanted to be the first here," he says.

"The first here for what?" your mother asks in shock.

"To call upon Miss Y/L/N, of course. You see, I shared quite an exquisite time with her last night, and hope that I may spend more time in her good company."

"Really?" you and your mother ask in unison. You laugh, and feeling bold, walk towards Colin. Still keeping a respectful distance from him, knowing that your doorman was watching closely, you take the tulips from him.

"Really," he says. "I was enchanted to meet you again, Y/N. Please don't have someone waiting on you."

"Not at all," you say. "Would you like to come in for tea, Colin?"

"I would love to," he says with a grin that nearly takes your breath away.

#colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #ts prompts #colin bridgerton fanfic #colin bridgerton fanfiction

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 27 days

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All of The Girls You Loved Before - Poe Dameron

A/N: Hello, hello! I was working on Return to Me and was inspired to write this fic. Enjoy!!

TS Prompt #5: All of The Girls You Loved Before

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 1.8k Synopsis: On a trip back home, Poe and the reader are greeted by blasts from Poe's past, in the form of many ex girlfriends.

The Sebastian, the longest standing bar in Poe's town on Yavin 4, had not changed at all. Basically a large patio, it looked out onto the thick forest surrounding them, cloaked in the dark of night. Crickets chirped and frogs sang in a dull hum. Lights were strung up around the perimeter. It hadn't changed, and seeing it again felt like home.

Poe takes it all in, a smile on his face. There were times when he thought he'd never have reason to smile again, much less, visit the bar he had frequented so often throughout the years. He feels you looking at him and turns to see you smiling, too.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asks.

"Please."

"I'll be right back."

The patio is crowded as he makes his way through the strum of people. There is music playing from the corner, but he can't make out the tune over the hum of chatter. It seems that the two of you were not alone in your selection of a celebratory location.

The First Order was finally gone. What remained, was perhaps more daunting. Poe had a future in front of him, something he was never positive he would see. The possibilities were endless, and it excited and scared the hell out of him.

He tries to stay focused in the moment, and at this present moment, he wants to drink until he is silly with you, in a place he loves.

At the bar, he places your typical orders.

"I thought that was you," the bartender says. So distracted by the scene around him, Poe hadn't noticed who was tending the bar.

"Annie!" he says in surprise.

"Been a while since I've seen you here," she says, getting started on the drinks.

"It's been a while since I've been home at all," he says. He takes a moment to take her in, the long dark hair in a tight braid, her mouth twisted in a knot as she focuses on the drink in hand. "You look good," he says.

"So do you," she says with a smile. "Who's that with you?"

Poe follows her gaze across the room. You are standing off to the side, looking a little overwhelmed, but happy. He smiles.

"Y/N," he answers.

"She's not from here."

"No," he says. Annie lets out a tut of breath as she slides the drinks over to him. "What?"

"Just surprised you brought her home, and here, of all places," Annie says with a grin.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Given your history, is all. Figured you wouldn't want her to know about your past conquests," she says. Poe opens his mouth and closes it a moment after.

"What do I owe you?"

"On the house. Thank you for all you did," she says with a nod.

"I'm just one man," he says with a shrug. "But thank you."

He makes his way back towards you, his mind thinking about the past Annie mentioned. You aren't stupid, he knows. You know about his dating history, at least within the Resistance. But there is more, much more, that you don't know about.

"Hey," you say, taking a drink from his hand as he approaches. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he says, snaking a hand around your waist to kiss your forehead. You smile up at him and clink your drinks with his.

"This place is just how you described."

"It hasn't changed at all."

"Any fun stories?" you ask, "Wild nights? Quickies in the bathroom?"

Poe laughs, shaking his head, "None that I remember, or that I would bore you with."

"I don't buy that for a second," you say with a laugh. "Just so happens, I already did hear one story about you."

"How?" he asks.

"That girl over there," you say, nodding across the way. There is a group of girls next to a table, laughing loudly. Poe's gaze locks with one of them, and he recognizes her instantly.

"She talked to you?" he asks, his voice rising slightly in his growing panic.

"Was she not supposed to?" you ask with a laugh, drawing his gaze back to you. "She was sweet."

"What did she say?"

"Just that you met here on a night like this," you say with a shrug, "She said you were fun." There's a playful grin on your face, but Poe has to force himself to match it.

"Well . . ."

"Do you remember her being so much fun?" you tease.

"Not particularly," he says lowly.

"Hey," you say, grabbing his arm, "I'm just teasing you."

"I know."

"So laugh," you say, bumping his hip with yours. He gives you a smile, but that's all he can bring himself to do.

"Sorry. Truthfully, I was just trying to place her."

"You don't remember her?"

"She seems familiar, but no, not really. Not sure why she remembers me."

"Can you blame her?" Your hand is in his hair, and he lets it be an anchor. He faces you fully, looking down at the woman he loves now, more than any of the others.

"Y/N, I don't want to keep anything from you. I--"

"Poe Dameron?"

You both turn to see another woman approaching. Her smile practically glows in the dark as she wraps her arms around Poe in a tight hug. You step back to give them room, Poe's eyes tracking you the entire time.

"Selene, it's great to see you," Poe says, quickly wrapping an arm around your shoulders after he breaks away from her.

"You, too," she says. Her eyes trail over to you and you extend a hand.

"Y/N, nice to meet you," you say.

"Selene. Is this your first time on Yavin-4?"

"Yes, this is the first time we've been able to get away," you say looking up at Poe.

"Oh, were you in the Resistance, too?"

"I was," you said with a smile. "Truthfully, this is the first time that Poe and I have had so much time together. In the Resistance, we were always running around the galaxy, often on opposite ends."

"Well, I won't bother you for too long, just wanted to say hello to an old friend. If you'd like, a couple of friends are here with me, most you know, Poe. Come over if you'd like.

"It was great meeting you. Enjoy your night," she says with a smile.

"You too," you say. When she's out of earshot, you look at him. "You were awfully quiet."

"Sorry, I . . ."

"How many of your girlfriends do you think we'll see tonight?" you ask. He lets out a heavy sigh before answering that he isn't sure. "Poe, you don't seem to be having a great time," you say, your face becoming serious.

"I am."

"If you want, we can go back to your Dad's. This was supposed to be fun."

"I'm having fun."

"You're a bad liar."

"It's just," he begins, his hand again around your waist, needing to keep you close, "I wasn't expecting so many visitors from my past."

"Well, what did you imagine would happen coming back to a place from your past?"

"I didn't want to bombard you with all of this."

"All of what?"

"My dating history.”

"Poe-"

"Poe! You will never guess who I just saw!" Snap joins your small group, Jess and Kare not too far behind, and throws an arm around Poe.

"Who?" he asks, his voice thick with newfound exhaustion.

"Emmamay!"

"Who's that?" you ask.

"No one," Poe answers, at the same time that Snap says, "His ex-girlfriend."

"Where is she?" you ask.

"She was heading out as we came in, but said to say hi to you," Snap says. Poe nods his head, his eyes not focusing on anything specific.

"What is that now? Three exes from your past?" you ask with a grin. Black Squadron laughs around him.

"Four actually," he says. "I dated the bartender, too. Briefly."

"Really?" you ask, eyes wide with intrigue.

"Really."

He fades into the background as his friends talk. He is lost in his own thoughts, and knows that you have looked at him a few times, hoping to pull him back into the conversation, but he can't find the energy.

"Come here," you say, after so long has passed. You grab his hand and pull him out into the middle of the room, where a group has gathered to dance. "I love this song."

"I know you do," he says softly, wrapping his hands around your waist. The both of you sway along to the music, his eyes locking on yours.

"You've been weird," you say.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just tell me why. Is it about all your exes?"

"I don't want you to feel like you're the latest in a long string of women."

"So what if I am?" you ask, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"You know, my history, it's not something I'm proud of."

"You think you're the only one who has a trail of broken-hearted exes behind them?"

"I know your numbers don't match mine," he says, giving you a weak smile.

"Who cares? They were all part of the path that led us to each other. If I took you home, we'd probably run into plenty of men I had dated, some whose name I can't even remember now."

"You wouldn't know their names?" he asks with a raise of his eyebrows.

"They're inconsequential, now. No matter what I felt for them then, I love you more."

"I love you more," he says deeply.

"Then stop being so moody," you say as he pulls you in close. "I don't care if we run into a million women here. They are part of your history, part of why you've become the man you are. I'm happy to meet all of them, to know their stories of you. Because they've made you the one I've fallen for."

"I love you, baby," he says again.

"I know," you say, and tilt your head to kiss him. Poe's grip on you is tight, as if he never wants to let you go.

Part of him hopes that all of his exes are watching. He wants them to see the perfect woman in front of him. Wants them to know that the stars aligned for the two of you. He wants them to see that you are the last in his long history. You are his forever, and everything else, everyone else, will fade into the past.

“Besides, if being with all these women has taught you everything you know, I’m grateful.”

“Everything I know?”

“How you treat me,” you say simply, “How you kiss me.” He places a delicate kiss to your lips. “How you are in bed . . .”

“Maybe we should get out of here,” he says, his nose at your neck. You laugh in the breathy way that makes his body tighten, but shake your head.

“Not yet. I want to enjoy this night with you. Even if we are surrounded by all of the girls you’ve loved before.”

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #star wars #star wars imagine #star war fanfic #star wars fanfiction #ts prompts

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 1 month

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Hi ! Can I request a The boys short of all of them playingMario kart with reader ? Thank you !

Hello! For sure! I'm gonna do these as headcanons cause I think that will work better!

MM:

He is an expert Mario Kart player, from constantly playing with his daughter

He knows all the secret paths, the best vehicles to pick, and he absolutely has a favorite

(It's Bowser)

He does not like to lose AT ALL

The only person he's ever lost to is his daughter, and that's only because he let her

He will stew and stew and stew when he loses. He will walk away, swear he's not playing again, and within minutes is back to reclaim his territory

When just the two of you play, he will sometimes reveal what he knows, but only if he has a big lead

Hughie:

Hughie has played Mario Kart pretty much his whole life

That being said, he's not the greatest. He wins every once in a while, but only when he gets lucky, or plays someone truly terrible

His favorite is Yoshi, and will always be Yoshi

When he loses, it's no sweat. Sometimes he singles out someone he wants to beat, but winning is not usually his end goal

He becomes the person who teaches the older Boys how to play, and they quickly all beat him

You tease him because for someone his age, he should be so much better than he actually is

Kimiko:

Kimiko had never played Mario Kart before joining the boys

But after Hughie taught her how to play, she is easily the best of all of them

(Much to the chagrin of many of the more experienced members)

Her favorite is any of the princesses, but she has a love for Daisy specifically

She is an aggressive player, and focuses most of her energy on taking down her other opponents

She is a MONSTER with green shells. Sometimes she'll fall behind just to get green shells and take down the other players

The others want to beat her, but are always a little bit terrified of what would happen to them if they ever did (It's a good thing they never get that close)

When you play against Kimiko, it's not even close, so you usually just assist her in taking the others down

Frenchie:

It's no shock that Frenchie's favorite power up is the bomb

In fact, when he *doesn't* get that one, he becomes extremely angry, and has been known to throw his controller

He isn't prone to picking the same exact character, but he often finds himself playing as Toad

He had not played before, but he is usually the one to suggest they start playing (Usually with controllers in hand and the game already up)

Frenchie does not like to lose, but typically he loses his temper before the game is even over, and the computer ends up finishing for him

You have had to talk him down more times than you can count, and he listens, because you're the one who wants to play with him the most

Billy:

Billy does not like Mario Kart and he does not understand it

Hughie has tried to show him multiple times, but each time he just becomes angry and ends up storming out

He thinks all of them are childish for enjoying the game so much, and thinks it is just a violent mess of color

The few times they get him to play, he always picks Mario, because "the name is Mario Kart, who the bloody hell else would I play as"

He is the second most offender for throwing the controller

He also threatens to destroy the game any time he is annoyed with them all, but he hasn't done so yet

He does not like when you tease him for being old for not liking the game

"MM and I are around the same age"

"Well one of you acts 80, the other doesn't"

#the boys #the boys imagine #the boys headcanons #billy butcher #billy butcher headcanons #billy butcher imagine #hughie campbell #hughie capbell headcanons #hughie campbell imagine #kimiko miyashiro #kimiko miyashiro imagine #kimiko miyashiro headcanons #mothers milk #mothers milk imagine #mothers milk headcanons #frenchie #frenchie imagine #frenchie headcanons #anonymous

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 1 month

Note

Hi there I’m just wondering do you think you'll ever write another part to Help?

Hello! I honestly have not thought about that fic in a long long time, so I'm not sure! I'll take a look at it and see, but no promises! I'm glad you liked it though <3

#asks #asgards-princess-of-mischief

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 1 month

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Hi! I just came across your Return to Me series and I’m only a few parts in but I have to let you know so far I’m loving it! 😍😍 I often have to force myself to stop reading so I can get some sleep 😂 amazing. So happy I came across it!!

Thank you for this masterpiece ☺️

Ahh thank you so much!!! I’m so glad that you are loving it like I do! 💜

#asks

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 1 month

Text

We Come Back Every Time - Anakin Skywalker

A/N: I haven’t even watched Ahsoka, but all the clips of Anakin live rent free in my mind. Not gonna lie, this went in a completely different direction than I first imagined, but I’m not mad about it.

TS Prompt #4: Style

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Reader Word Count: 2.1k Synopsis: No matter how many times they say it's the last, Anakin and the reader always find each other coming back for more. (Warning: smut)

“And I should just tell you to leave, cause I know exactly where it leads, but I watch us go round and round each time.”

Midnight - the rain is pouring in Coruscant. The planet is weather controlled, and Anakin curses himself for not thinking to check it beforehand. But this far into the city, as far as he has come, he doesn't care.

His cloak is drenched by the time he arrives at your door. He knocks once. When the door opens, you are wearing pink pajamas and a scowl on your face.

"What are you doing here, Anakin?" you ask, tilting your head up to look at him, slowly, as if he is barely worth your time. The thought aggravates him in the special way that only you can.

"I know what we said last time," he says, his voice low.

"We said it was the last time," you say. Anakin laughs gently.

"And how many times have we done that?" he asks. You let out another annoyed sigh, but he sees the slight smile on your face. "Are you going to invite me in? I am dripping all over your hallway."

"You can come in but you can't stay," you say, swinging the door open. Anakin walks in, barely waiting for you to open it, because he already knows you will let him in.

"Oh, do you have other plans tonight?" he asks.

"It doesn't matter what my plans are," you say, walking into the living room after him. "We can't keep doing this, Anakin."

"Why?" he asks. He takes a step towards you, a smug smile on his face, but you turn away quickly.

"You took an oath, when you joined the Jedi. Each time we do this, you risk your place among the Order."

"Maybe I don't care about all that," he says, again moving closer to you, placing a hand at your waist. You look up at him with a disbelieving frown.

"Maybe I do," you say, and push him off gently. "I have my own future to worry about, too. My firm just took on another senator. If we got caught, it would be a scandal, and I could lose my job."

"We won't get caught. We haven't so far."

"It only takes once," you say with a sigh. He looks at you for a moment, then nods. He knows you're right. He's had this same conversation with himself each time he comes to your apartment.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"Don't be sorry," you say. And after a pause, "You look like you've had a long day."

"You could say that."

"Want to talk about it?" you ask, already moving to your bar cart to make him a drink. It's another rule violation, and he sees you pause for just a moment, but continue to make the drink.

"I had another activity in mind," he says. You let out a tut of laughter.

"Please don't sit on my couch," you say, stopping him in the motion. "You're wet."

"I noticed. If you want I can take this all off," he says, returning that smirk from earlier. You roll your eyes and swallow your own drink.

"How about just the cloak?"

"Sure," he says, slipping it off gracefully. Your eyes are on him, on the clothes that cling to his body. "Y/N?" he asks, and your eyes shoot up to his, caught.

"Yes?"

"See something you like?"

"You are so full of yourself," you say, rolling your eyes again.

"You think so?"

"I know so," you bite. Anakin smiles when he realizes you've moved closer to him.

"But you like it."

"I don't."

"You do."

"I don--"

"Just come here," he says lazily. You are breathing heavier, your chest rising and falling, and Anakin knows he's staring, too.

"You think you can just play these same games and I'll fall for it every time?"

"It's worked so far," he says. He's tired of waiting and takes a step towards you. You back up instinctually, and if he had any sense that you weren't completely into this he would walk away right now. But he knows that this is part of it, part of the dance the two of you do.

"You think you know me, but you--"

"Enough about what I think," Anakin says, moving so he's now directly in front of you. "What are you thinking right now?"

"I think you're incredibly cocky," you say, and he can see the hate flash over your face because it comes out in a breath. Anakin smiles, smiles because he knows, smiles in the way that makes you weak in the knees.

"I think for good reason," he says, his voice low. He takes a step and suddenly he's in front of you, towering over you. He looks down at you as your back hits the wall, and he can see the moment you no longer care about what's right and what's wrong. With a soft whine, you tilt your head and lock your lips with his.

Anakin devours you. His lips, tongue, teeth, all fight for dominance of your mouth as you squirm against him. The moans you make are fuel to him, fuel to keep going, to keep utterly destroying you.

There is a glass in your hand, and his Jedi instincts catch it before it shatters to the ground, your hands already pawing at his drenched shirt. He sets the glass on the bar cart and yanks open his shirt with a fist.

You pull away for air and look at his slick chest. There is hot desire in your eyes, and Anakin is of no mind to keep you waiting.

"If I take this all off, can we get on the bed?" he asks in a pant.

"Yes, fine," you say, kissing whatever part of him you can reach as he strips.

In a moment, he has you lifted in the air, your legs wrapped around him as he guides you towards the bedroom. He throws you down on the bed, and looks down at you in a surveying glance.

Your hair is spread out around you, your skin flushed. The pink pajamas you wear are wrinkled and half undone already, your warm skin peaking through the buttons.

"Isn't this so much better than arguing?" he asks lowly. You rise up on your elbows and look at him, disinterested.

"Are we doing this or not?" you ask.

"Oh, absolutely, I just needed to take you in first. Now that you've given in to what you want."

"Please shut up," you say. He laughs to himself as he crawls onto the bed, settling just above you, eye to eye.

"You seem angrier than usual," he says, his voice low. "I don't usually have to work this hard to convince you." As he speaks, his hand travels down your stomach, and slips into the waist of your pants. You breathe heavily when a finger of his slips beneath your underwear.

"It's nothing," you say, your voice heavy as his fingers works against you.

"Nothing?"

"That's what I said."

"I can stop, you know?" he teases, slowing his movements, but not removing his hand from you.

"You wouldn't."

"Tell me what's got you all worked up."

"You," you gasp.

"What about me?"

"Fuck, Anakin," you whine, writhing against him, "I don't want to talk."

"But it's so cute when you do, watching you struggle to keep your breathing even."

"You are an asshole, you know that?"

"I do. Tell me what's bothering you."

"I heard," you say, nearly crying as his forefinger circles the bud at the apex of your thighs. "That you've been seeing other girls."

"Seeing other girls?" he asks, a breath of a laugh. "I didn't peg you as the jealous type."

"More like I felt sorry for them."

"That's not what you felt."

"You don't know what I feel."

"I know what you're feeling right now," he says. His lips find the sensitive skin beneath your ear and your hips buck as he places a searing kiss. "Admit it."

"Admit what?" you pant. He has picked up his rhythm, and he knows you are close.

"That you're jealous."

"I'm not."

"Tell me or I won't let you come."

"I hate you," you groan, lifting your hips to try and increase pressure.

"Tell me." His voice is a whisper against your skin. He sees the gooseflesh appear and knows he'll get his way. He always does when he has you like this.

"Fine! I was jealous! Happy?"

"Very," he says, removing his hand and in the same motion, dropping down to replace it with his mouth. You cry out as his lips close around you and within moments, you are coming around him.

He watches you come down. The heave of your breaths, the muscles finally loosening. How could you ever stop doing this? There are so few joys in the Jedi order, and absolutely none of them come as close to this. To watching you come undone.

When you sit up, the frustration in your eyes has dimmed. Anakin thinks it will take at least two more orgasms to diminish it completely.

"There aren't any other girls," he says, scooting closer to you.

"I don't really care if there are," you say, looking up at him. He takes your chin in his hand and smiles gently.

"You do care."

"It doesn't matter if I do," you say, "Because this is the last time."

"How often do we say that, and how often do we come back every time?"

"This time will be different," you say, running your hand through his soaked hair, slicking it back.

"I don't believe that for a moment."

"And why's that?" you ask, your voice softening.

"Because this is too good. And because, I know, like you do, that we'll just keep going round and round in this dance, rather than leave each other forever." Your eyes search him for a long moment.

"I don't know that."

"You do. It's our style,” he says. You groan in annoyance.

"I don't want to talk any more."

"What do you want to do?" he asks, his hand trailing down to your hip.

"I want you to fuck me."

"I'll need more specifics," he says, his voice a tease. You roll your eyes again.

"I want you to fuck me from behind," you say, looking at him with that disinterested look again.

"Anything else?"

"As hard as you can."

He flips you over before you can even finish the sentence. Your pajama pants had been hiked around your knees, but he tears them off and onto the floor in a quick motion.

“This what you had in mind?” he asks as he aligns himself to your entrance. He waits until you are saying “yes” before he thrusts inside you. Your answer transforms into a moan as you take him in.

“Ready for me?” he asks. You grind against him, sighing contentedly.

“Yes.”

His thrusts into you are rough, just like you requested. His hands grip your hips, almost certainly leaving bruises. With every push into you, the only sound filling the room is the slap of your bodies and the moans you both make.

"Is this how you imagined it?" Anakin asks, his own breathing heavy.

"Yes, just like this," you pant.

“Do you think about it often?”

"I can't stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about you," you admit. Anakin smiles. It is only in these moments, when he has taken you so fully, filled your body and your mind with only thoughts of him, that you finally let your true feelings show.

"Me too," he says. He again picks up his rhythm. His mechanical hand reaches around your waist and finds the sensitive flesh between your legs. He knows his touch is cold by the way your back arches.

In a few well placed strokes, you are coming around him again. Your walls tighten around him, and it is his turn to come, too. He moans your name and together you both collapse onto the bed.

He spares a glance over at you after he has calmed down some, and your eyes meet. You both let out breathless laughs.

"Why do we do this?" you ask.

"Because it feels good."

"No, why do we have to do the dance beforehand? And don't say it's our style," you deadpan.

"Maybe because if we admit that we like this, it would change completely," he says. You nod and look up at the ceiling. You are silent for a long time.

"Change it for the worse?"

"Maybe. Or maybe it'd be paradise."

"Paradise," you muse. "Sounds a little overrated." He laughs. “I guess I don’t mind our routine,” you say slowly.

“I don’t either,” he says, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and tucking you into his chest.

“But this is absolutely the last time,” you say, a devilish glint in your eyes.

“Oh absolutely,” he says, bringing your lips to his in a claiming kiss. “The very last.”

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x you #Star Wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #ts prompts

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 2 months

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Return to Me - Chapter Twenty-Five and a Half

Chapter Twenty-Five and a Half: Drunk in Love

A/N: Oh hi! I was scrolling through my master doc of Return to Me and found this buried within it. So voila, here is my second add on chapter. Just more cuteness before the reader and Poe finally get together. (You don't have to read the whole story to read this chapter, but of course, I'd encourage you to, nonetheless!)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: After a successful mission, Poe and the reader drink a little too heavily in celebration, and end up sharing a bed together.

Tags: @xeniarocks, @too-many-baes, @idocarealot, @treblebeth, @treestarrrrrrrr, @thescarletknight2014, @cspr-2, @ibikus, @mellow-f1, @mrsdaamneron, @trustme3-13, @ella-solei, @minelskede, @gleigh42, @givemethatgold, @and-claudia, @constantdisgrace, @wordsinwinters, @readingvogueonprivetdrive, @trshbb, @kaitlynw011, @ihave2muchtimeonmyhands, @fairytalesforever, @thanos-jeep, @mixedfandxms,

@pastelbunny1501, @emotionalcal, @danicalifxrnia, @getyourselfaunicorn, @spider-starry, @roserrys, @blushingwueen, @sam-wilsonnn , @commondazy, @throughparisallthroughrome, @ms-dont-care , @bubblegumcat229 , @barnesdameron , @i-hope-the-roof-flies-off , @deliriousgeek , @elisearts, @abzidabzy @lxntsxv

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

"Bottoms up!” Snap cheers, lifting his bottle to Poe’s. “To our fearless commander.”

Poe smiles at his friend and drinks along with him. All of Black Squadron is around him, and he smiles at each of them in turn, too.

He cannot remember the last time they have had reason to celebrate.

Just an hour ago, they had landed on the base and were greeted by a group of happy Resistance members. Something Poe saw very rarely.

The Resistance had gained intelligence about a week back that there was a First Order base on Corellia. In the debriefing they received, they were also informed that it was mostly abandoned, but fully functional. If they could gain access to the base, there was no telling how much information they could gather for the Resistance.

And Black Squadron was elected to be at the front of this plan.

The base wasn’t completely abandoned, so they were in charge of taking down any resistance, so that the ground team could do their thing. It had been a huge success: no casualties on their end, no unexpected hiccups; just a clean mission.

Which Poe had found himself caring more and more about.

Since befriending and working closely with you, Poe began to understand all the intricacies that went into their missions. To Poe, an unexpected turn in a mission was just a burst of excitement, but on the logistical side, the side you worked on, it meant more debriefings, more meetings to attain supplies, and data work that seemed to constantly pile up.

He won’t deny that he is smug, knowing that he’ll get to tell you how well he did. It is only at this thought, that he realizes you aren’t in the crowd of the party. He doesn’t think you were in the crowd that greeted Black Squadron upon their entry either.

Breaking away from his group, he takes a scouring glance around the packed room. He is certain if you were here, he would have spotted you by now.

“Poe, do a shot with us!” Jess yells. Poe looks back at his friends with a smile.

“I will in a little while,” he says, rejoining the group, just to reach around Snap and grab another bottle of beer, one to match his own. “I’ll be back in a few. Then we’ll do those shots.” He gives them a winning smile and lifts his beer, causing a loud cheer from his friends.

The hallway is in stark contrast to the warm, loud party inside. It seems nearly everyone is inside, or in their own quarters. He briefly considers checking your own quarters, but his gut guides him to the Control Center instead.

Sure enough, when he walks in, he sees you sitting near the control panel, data pad in hand, and head down. He nods to a few passing crew members as he makes his way towards you. He makes sure to keep both bottles of beer hidden inside his jacket.

“How did I know I’d find you in here?” he says lowly, sliding into the seat next to you. You gasp softly as you look up, clearly surprised by his appearance.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, “I thought you’d be celebrating.”

“I was,” he says, and quickly flashes the bottles secreted in his jacket. You open your mouth in surprise, and he laughs.

“I’m not sure those are allowed in the control room.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re not. So why don’t you come celebrate with the rest of us? That way no beer is where it shouldn’t be,” he says. You consider him for a moment but shake your head.

“I can--”

“Don’t say you have work to do, because this was a clean mission, I made sure of it,” he says, interrupting you with a grin. You raise an eyebrow at him, a smile etching it’s way across your face. Poe fights the feeling that the look elicits from him.

“Are you saying you made sure this mission went perfectly, so that we could drink together?” you ask. Poe only shrugs in response, making you laugh.

“Maybe, so why don’t you indulge me?” He flashes the beer once more. You look around the room and Poe follows your gaze. Everyone seems to be wrapping up for the day. Of course, there is an evening crew that makes sure the base stays operational through the night, who are currently setting up, but pretty much everyone else has finished.

“Alright,” you say with a sigh.

“Alright?” Poe asks, grinning.

“Yes,” you say, shutting down the pad in front of you. You stand up and smooth the skirt of your outfit. Poe knows he is staring up at you, but can’t seem to stop. He didn’t think it would be so simple to convince you. “Come on,” you say, rolling your eyes at him.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, standing immediately. The actions brings the two of you chest to chest. Poe looks into your eyes, peering into his own. He is not sure if he has ever been this close to you. There are flecks of color in your eyes he knows he hasn’t seen before, and he is about to lean in closer to detail them, when you move.

You clear your throat and back away from him, the first to come to your senses.

“Beer, please,” you say, holding out your hand. Poe laughs gently and passes it over.

He leads the way towards the party, and by the time you get there, your beer is gone. He looks at you questioningly, and a little impressed. You just smile at him.

“It’s been a long couple of days.”

He smiles back at you, taking in the signs of stress on your face: the circles under your eyes that are beginning to appear, your much more casual hair and makeup, still extravagant to many of the people on base, but simpler than usual. He also sees the nerves on your face, the ones that are there when you’re proposing new plans for the Resistance, or any time that you are confronted with something new or scary, which seemed to happen a lot around Poe.

“Well, let’s see if we can combat that,” he says, and finishes his drink in one swallow. You smile back at him gratefully and enter the room.

As promised, when Poe walks in, Jess has shots ready for him and the rest of Black Squadron. He leads you over to the table they have gathered around and immediately pours another shot.

“You game?” he asks. In answer you reach for the small glass and hold it up to his.

“Cheers?” you ask. He repeats your sentiment and together, you, Poe, and Black Squadron all clink glasses and swallow the burning liquor.

You are laughing. Poe isn’t sure what is so funny, or when you even started laughing, but you are laughing, nonetheless. And have been for quite some time, he thinks. He comes back over to you, this time with glasses full of water, and starts laughing too.

“You are so drunk,” he says, placing the glass carefully in your hand. You just nod as you take a heavy drink of the water. “What were you laughing about?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say with a sigh, leaning back in your seat. The party around you has mostly died off, but there are still a few stragglers, finishing their last drinks. “I just realized that I am dead.”

“What?” Poe asks.

“Nové is gonna kill me,” you say, looking at him.

“Why?”

“She’s got an exam tomorrow and I promised I would let her have the room tonight. I was supposed to catch a transport to Naboo to give her some peace and quiet.” You appear resigned to your fate, but a moment later, you let out a “Fuck!” Poe chuckles to himself at the cute, frustrated expression on your face. “I guess I could see if there are any pods left—”

“Just stay with me tonight.”

“What?” you ask, growing suddenly serious. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. Like you said, Nové will kill you and I obviously can’t let that happen. And no one is going to be flying across the galaxy tonight, especially not someone as drunk as you—”

“I don’t fly anyway, I’m a passenger,” you say, slurring your words just slightly.

“Regardless, you’re just going to stay with me tonight, alright?”

“Fine,” you say. He can tell you are surprised by your own agreement because your eyes widen. You reach out and grab his arm, pulling him in close. He is momentarily stunned, for a moment thinking you are pulling him in for something else. But instead, you say, “What if I throw up?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone has thrown up in my room,” he says simply. And for some reason it makes you pull back.

Physically, yes, you have retreated from him, but there is also a small part of you that seems to become more reserved at his words. “I do it all the time,” he adds quickly.

“Of course,” you say with a gentle smile. “Thank you. I promise, I’ll be out before you know it and your couch won’t look any different.”

Poe raises his eyebrow at you as you both stand, knowing full well there is no way he is letting you sleep on his uncomfortable couch. He leads the way out of the room, nodding his goodbye to a few people.

When he lets you into his quarters, the change is immediate. He knows you have been in here before, but only in passing. As he shuts the door behind you, he takes in how the dim lighting highlights your face.

He knows what the difference is. You have never been here for longer than 2 minutes. Never with the door shut behind you. And never, ever at night. But now that you are . . .

You turn to look at him, raw emotion sketched on your face. He knows you can feel the change too.

“Your room is a lot bigger than mine,” you blurt out, as if it was the only thought you have besides how alone the two of you are. He watches as an embarrassed blush reaches across your cheeks.

“Yeah, well I’m not a commander for nothing,” he says with a grin, “I needed something to sweeten the pot.” You snort and he sees some of the tension retreat from your shoulders.

“Want another glass of water?” he asks.

“Please.” As he goes to get it for you, you take another surveying glance of his quarters before moving over to the couch. You run your hands over the back of it and Poe cannot help that he tracks the motion intensely.

“This will be perfect,” you say.

“You’re funny, you know that?” Poe says, walking towards you and handing you the glass.

“What?”

“You’re sleeping in my bed,” he says. Halfway through a drink, you nearly choke on the water.

“No,” you say firmly.

“Yes.”

“No, Poe, I’m already putting you out, the couch will be fine.”

“You’re my guest, you’ll take the bed.”

“No,” you say, and set the glass down.

“Don’t argue with me.”

“I’ll argue with you all I want, especially about ridiculous things,” you say, taking a step closer to him. He recognizes the look on your face, the one you usually save for fights in your work. But he isn’t going to back down, either.

“You’re the one being ridiculous, there’s a perfectly good bed in there,” he says, motioning towards the door to his bedroom.

“And I won’t deprive you of it,” you say, waving your hand that way as well.

“You don’t want to sleep in my bed?”

“No, I want you to sleep in your bed,” you say.

“Well, I want you to sleep in my bed.”

��You need to sleep in your own bed,” you argue.

“So we agree, we need to sleep in the bed? Got it.” And before you can say anything else, Poe lifts you in his arms, bridal style, and carries you to his bedroom. He kicks open the door and practically flings you onto the bed.

“We’ll both sleep in the bed, then,” he says, and flops down on the other side. The movement makes you bounce and it shakes whatever shock you feel at being forced in here. Instead, you are laughing again. Poe isn’t far behind, losing himself in a fit of giggles until the two of you are breathless in bed.

Poe is having a hard time remembering the last time that has happened with someone without having sex.

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” he says, rolling onto his side to look at you. You do the same.

“I do. But so are you.”

“I guess I can’t argue with you on that point.”

“I’m sure you’d find a way,” you say with a smile. “Poe, I really can’t sleep in your bed.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re—and I’m—and we’re . . .” You are gesturing with your hands and Poe takes one in his. You stop stammering and look at his face, the tussled hair.

“We’re what?” he asks, his hand playing with your own.

“We’re not this.”

“What is this?” he asks. You start to speak, but then stop. He can see you are searching for an answer and finds that he doesn’t have one, either. You pull your hand away and lay on your back, looking up at the ceiling.

“I promise not to use any of my charm on you,” he says, making you turn your head. “At least, not any more than usual.” You chuckle. “Or, I can go to the couch.”

You study him for a long moment. He can see you examine every angle of his face, looking for what, he’s not sure. When you answer, Poe is surprised he held his breath for that long.

“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” you say slowly.

“You’re so considerate, Y/N,” he says, taking your hand again beseechingly. You roll your eyes and shake him off, but you are still laughing, even if you are also calling him an idiot.

“Let me grab you something more comfortable to sleep in,” he says, and gets up from the bed.

“What?”

“Well, you can’t expect to wear that dress to bed? I mean, I figure you probably sleep in elaborate pieces of nightwear but that feels a little excessive.” You cock your eyebrow at him once more.

“Do you often think about what I wear to sleep, Poe?” you ask. Poe feels color rush to his cheeks and smiles back. He stutters over a response for a few moments before turning away from you. You chuckle.

He brings you a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and motions towards his bathroom. “You can get changed in there.”

“Thank you.”

As you change, Poe quickly strips out of his jumpsuit, into an outfit nearly similar to the one he gave you. He lays back onto the bed when you come back out.

He sees your eyes trail over him, taking in the change of clothes. He isn’t sure he imagines it when your eyes linger in a few places.

“Hey,” he says, smiling at you.

“Hey.”

“Those comfortable enough?”

“They are, thank you,” you say. Poe spares a moment to take you in. To understand the feelings he’s having at seeing you wear his clothes. They probably smell like you, and something primal in him is satisfied by knowing that the smell will mark you now, too.

“You gonna get into bed, or do I have to toss you onto it again?” he asks. You let out a jut of laughter and reluctantly crawl onto the bed next to him. While he is laying down, your back is rigid against the pillows.

“Y/N,” he says softly, “You’re safe here, I promise. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

“I know you won’t,” you say, just as soft.

“Would it make you feel better if I laid the other way?” he asks, nodding to the foot of the bed. Before you can answer, he flips his position, so his feet are next to you.

“You didn’t have to--” He grabs hold of your ankle and pulls you down the bed until you are laying down, too.

“There,” he says, “Now we can both get comfortable.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a manhandler.” He laughs quietly.

“Just though I’d get you in here eventually, so figured I’d speed up the process,” he says. You lift your head up and he adds quickly, “I mean tonight, I figured I’d get you in here.”

“Ah.”

“Well, goodnight then,” he says stiffly. He sits up to go turn off the lights, but you grab hold of his arm.

“Maybe, leave the lights on for a little while?” you ask. He can see the uncertainty still in your eyes.

“I can go sleep on the couch,” he says softly.

“It’s not that,” you say, and take in a deep breath, “I’m just not tired yet.”

“I find that hard to believe given how much you drank tonight,” he says. You grin at him and shake your head.

“I know, but I’m really not. Maybe we can just talk?” you ask.

“Sure,” he says, and lays back down. “What do you want to talk about?” He stops himself before he can add an affectionate “baby.” He is surprised the urge even arises in him.

“I don’t know, tell me a story.”

“Like a fairytale?” he asks with a laugh.

“No,” you say, laughing along, “Something about you.”

“Something about me,” he repeats.

“Yes.”

“Well,” he says, “How about the first time I ever flew?”

He recounts for you his parents differing opinions on him becoming a pilot. He describes the feeling of sitting in a cockpit for the first time, even if he was also sitting in his mother’s lap the entire time. He describes the feel of the controls in his hands, again, even though his mother was truly in control. And he tells you about how proud both of his parents were when he touched back down.

When he is done with the story, there is a smile on his face. You don’t say anything for a while, but when you do, you sit up.

“Poe, were your parents in love?” you ask. He sits up, too, and takes in the look on your face. It’s unreadable, but he knows that you’re upset about something.

“What?” he asks.

“Were your parents in love?” you ask again. He wraps his arms around his knees and thinks for a moment.

“Yeah, they were.”

“Hmm,” you say and lay back on his favorite pillow.

“Were yours?” he asks.

“What?”

“Your parents,” Poe says, when your eyes lock on his. “Were they in love?"

“I don’t know. I wanted to think that they were, when I was a kid. I think they might have been once, but now I don’t think they care.” You scoff.

“What?”

“Just saying it sounds so pathetic. That they would put anything above each other. I used to think they were so in love, and wanted that for myself, but I don’t want a relationship that means less to me than politics or getting ahead, you know?”

“I do.”

“If and when I ever settle down, it will not be like that.”

“What will it be like?” he asks. When you don’t answer he nudges you slightly.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Less like my parents, more like yours, maybe.”

“Well, my Dad will be thrilled to hear that,” he says, and lays down, his head parallel with your own. He looks at your face. If you give any indication that this isn’t alright, he’ll go back to the foot of the bed. But you don’t. Instead, you roll onto your side, facing him. Your eyes look heavy with sleep, something he didn’t know he would find so adorable.

“Are you ready to turn the lights off yet?”

“Sure, Poe,” you say. The way you say his name, your voice thick sleep, makes certain parts of him tighten. He gets up and quickly turns off the lights.

“We should probably get under the covers,” he says.

“Oh if we do that, I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself,” you say. He smiles as he climbs back on the bed, facing you in the dark. He can only see the outline of your face, and the whites of your eyes.

“What would you need to control?” he asks.

“Forget I said it,” you say, trying to turn away from him as you run a hand through your hair.

“I’m not sure I want to,” he says, taking your arm and pulling you just an inch closer. You let out a breathy laugh, facing him once more.

“I’m just drunk,” you whisper, “Ignore what I say.”

“I like drunk Y/N.”

“Yeah?” you ask with a laugh.

“Yeah. It’s fun to see you let your guard down. And then let it down even more with every shot you take.” You laugh harder and the motion brings you another inch closer.

“Glad I can entertain.”

“But I like sober Y/N, too,” he says gently. He is holding your hand, but he has no memory of when he took it.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe a little too much,” he says. Your hand in his is shaking gently. “Except when she gets on me about messy missions.”

“Oh yeah, that’s the worst.”

You both laugh for a moment, but then fall quiet. For so long that Poe thinks maybe you have fallen asleep, but then you say softly, “Why did you bring me here?”

“You didn’t have anywhere to stay,” he says, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“There wasn’t another lady you had promised this side of the bed to?” you ask.

“No, no one else.”

“Hmm, I find that a little hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“You’re not known for being a prude,” you say delicately. He laughs to himself. He won’t deny that he has enjoyed the company of lots of women, and he knows that reputation follows him.

“No, I’m not. Does that bother you?”

“Why would it?”

“Because it does, to others,” he says. He hopes you can hear the ache in his voice. He hasn’t had this conversation with anyone before, but he finds it playing over in his head a lot since he’s gotten to know you.

“I don’t mind that you’re a slut,” you say with a smile. He laughs. “I know who you are, Poe. I’m not afraid of that.”

“Good,” he says. Your eyes are on him, and the pressure is almost too intense. “I’m drunk, Y/N, so please forget that I ask this tomorrow morning.”

“Okay?” you say a bit nervously.

“You . . . I bring a lot of girls here . . . You never . . .” He cannot seem to find the right words, or even the courage to say them if he could.

“Are you asking me if I’ve ever thought about being one of those girls?”

“I forget that you’re so smart,” he says in a breath, making you laugh. “But yes, more or less.”

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” you say, rolling onto your back.

“And?” he asks.

“And,” you say. Poe focuses on the outline of your face. You are silent for too long, and when he thinks you won’t say anything else, he gathers a pillow under his head.

“And I think we’d be good together,” you whisper. Poe has to strain to hear you, but he knows he heard you correctly.

“We’d be great together,” he corrects. You smile in the dark, and that is the thought that Poe focuses on as he closes his eyes.

When you wake up, the room is still dark. At least, you think so, because you have not dared to open your eyes yet.

When you began to stir from sleep, there were a few sensations you noted in this order: 1. There were strong arms wrapped around you. 2. Your own hands were tangled up in curly hair. And 3. You were insanely hungover, if the splitting headache was any indication.

You know what you will find when you open your eyes, and maybe that’s why you’ve kept them closed for so long.

Sometime in the night, you and Poe made your way into each other’s arms. And not just that, under the covers as well. You next realize that your legs are tangled together, too. The arrangement is a lot cozier than you would have ever expected.

You finally get the courage to open your eyes, and instantly regret it. Only a little bit of light creeps through the window, but it’s enough to make you wince and take cover deeper into Poe’s arms. He stirs slightly, tucking you in tighter as he hums.

You are not sure you have ever been this comfortable, and the thought scares you. You test how strong his hold on you is, trying gently to pull yourself from his grip. He is breathing softly, but at your movement, he grunts.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. He opens his eyes slowly and takes you in for a long minute. "Good morning," he says with a grin that has your stomach flipping. You see him take in the position you are in, but he doesn't change a thing.

"Morning," you say in a breath. You gently untangled your hand from his hair, and could almost swear that Poe hums his discontent, just a little.

"What time is it?" he asks, looking around his shoulder. His hold on you is still firm.

"Early, I would guess."

"Yeah. How did you sleep?" he asks, looking back at you.

"Good. I think. Some bits that I'm not remembering, though."

"Yeah, like what?"

"Well, this, for example," you say, motioning between your two bodies.

"Probably just the hangover," he says, closing his eyes again as he snuggles into his pillow. He pulls you in just a little closer, his hand rubbing small circles on your back.

"Poe," you say quietly.

"Hmm?"

"How did we end up like this?"

"Must have happened in our sleep."

"Well, how did you sleep?" you ask. He must realize that you aren't giving up, so he opens his eyes and lifts his head a little. He smiles down at you.

"I slept great."

"Really?"

"Really," he says.

"Why don't you seem as hungover as I am?" you ask. He laughs softly.

"Well, Y/N, I didn't drink as much as you."

"Even so, it's still early. How can you even be smiling at an hour like this?" you grumble, and to your own surprise, you drop your head into the crook of his arm. Poe laughs again and the sounds rumbles through his chest.

"I grew up on a farm, so I've always been an early riser. Plus, it's always a good morning when you wake up next to a beautiful woman."

“Have lot of experience with that, do you?” you ask, looking back up at him.

“Not to your caliber,” he says, tucking a stray hair out of your face. "How are you feeling, though?"

"My head is pounding and I think I'll puke if I move." Poe laughs and tucks you in tighter, your nose a fraction from his neck.

"Well then, we'll have to keep you here until those symptoms reside," he says. You laugh against his skin and you know you aren't imagining the slight twitch he makes towards your body.

"I think I've already overstayed my welcome," you say, and begrudgingly pull yourself from his warm embrace. You are still not ready to sit up, but there is now a more acceptable distance between the two of you.

"You haven't," he says, shaking his head. "Can I make you breakfast? I have the perfect hangover recipe."

"No, the thought of food right now is sickening."

"Well, you're welcome to just stay here until you feel better."

"You don't want me to do that," you say simply, looking away from him.

"But I do." He sits up and looks down at you, so you can't avoid his gaze. "Really." You smile back at him, a soft blush growing on your cheeks.

"I should really go check on Nové, make sure she actually got some sleep last night," you say, sitting up as you do. The world spins for a moment, but Poe's hand on your back helps settle you.

"I understand," he says. Your eyes catch for a moment too long, and you realize you are smiling at each other.

"You know, I think I understand why all those girls stay over," you say. He raises an eyebrow at you questioningly, and against your better judgement, you say, "You are an excellent cuddler."

"You've learned my secret," he says with a laugh. "You're not so bad yourself, though. The hand in the hair thing? That's especially nice." You hum in response, a smile still stuck on your face.

"I should get going," you say quietly, after a long pause.

"Yeah."

"Thank you, for last night."

"Anytime," he says, his eyes finding yours again. "Nové kicks you out again, just let me know."

"Will do."

You get out of bed and stand, and it's immediately clear how bad of an idea this is. Poe's hand finds yours just when you think you really might fall down from dizziness. His laugh is gentle as you look at him.

"You really should stay, Y/N. Not sure you'll make it down to your quarters."

"I'll be fine."

"Besides, I've got a really great routine to cure a hangover," he says with a taunting grin.

"Does it involve cuddling?" you ask.

"It is heavy on the cuddling, yes," he says, making you laugh, which only makes your head hurt worse

"As wonderful as that sounds, I need to go. I'm pretty sure I'm moments away from being sick, and I would really like to not do that in front of you."

"I don't care, Y/N."

"Well, I do."

You look down at yourself and recognize for the first time that you are wearing Poe's clothes. Your own are folded up in a pile on a chair in the corner of the room.

"Keep them," he says, tracking your gaze.

"I can't keep them."

"At least wear them out. I would hate for anyone to see you in the same dress as last night. Wouldn't that be like a cardinal sin in your life?"

"Ha ha," you say dryly. "Thank you."

You look at him as he gets out of bed, too. The t-shirt he's wearing bunches up a little, and you take in his toned stomach. You avert your eyes quickly.

"Since I can't convince you to stay, I'll walk you to the door at least."

Nové is gone by the time you get to your room. You are glad of it. Your mind is spinning, partially from the hangover, and partially because the details of the night before are coming back to you.

You just want to flop on your cold bed, and hopefully forget how great the previous evening was.

When Poe walked you to his door, there was a moment where you weren't sure what he was going to do. What you were going to do. But before either of you could cross that final barrier, commotion in the hallway pulled your attentions and brought you back to reality.

Now, alone in your bed, snuggling a pillow that is a poor replacement for the real thing, you imagine what it might be like to pass that barrier, to be one of the girls he is typically with.

And a couple hallways down, Poe is in his own lonely bed, imagining the same thing.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfic #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars imagine

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 2 months

Text

Return to Me - Chapter Twenty-Nine and A Half

Chapter Twenty-Nine and a Half: For the Better

A/N: Hello, friends! As always, Return to Me is never far from my thoughts, and I often find myself rereading chapters when I need them. And as always, I want to rewrite everything I've ever written. But, since I've put so much work into the current rewrite, I've decided to fill in some of the gaps that seem to haunt me the most. So voila, I present to you my first add-on chapter.

This chapter will follow both the reader and Poe, in the aftermath of their breakup. As I have reread this story, I feel like the absolute depression that each of them went through wasn't expressed enough, so this needed to be done. This is aggressively inspired by the TikTok edit of Waiting Room x All I Wanted.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 3.6k Synopsis: Somehow, life goes on after the painful breakup, and Poe and the reader struggle to find their footing in this new world.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

You cannot remember the last time you ate. You know you've been drinking water, but only because every hour or so, Nové is there to force it down your throat.

You have never felt this weak before. You have lived on Naboo for most of your life, but every breeze off the lakes chills you to your core. Sitting with your upcoming cabinet nearly knocks you to the ground.

You know eating will help, but you can't seem to muster up the appetite, even when your favorite foods are presented in front of you.

Your mind wanders. You try to stay in the present, listen to the information that you know will be beneficial to your reign, but you can't seem to focus on a single thought.

Well, aside from the memory of the pain on Poe's face. That never, ever leaves your mind.

The only other thought that grasps you is what your father said after you told him it was over. That you and Poe were over.

"Know it's for the better, Y/N."

Compared to the devastation in Poe's eyes, the look in your father's was warm, caring even. You know he truly believes that this is the better course. And that belief haunts your thoughts.

"Y/N?" One of the handmaidens ask. You aren't sure which one, since you just met them all, aside from Nové. You think it might be Loré, the one with the beautiful dark hair.

"Sorry?" you say, trying to shake yourself back to the present.

"Did you decide on what dress you want to wear?" she asks. By her placating tone, you know it's not the first she has asked this.

"The red will be fine for today," you say.

Today, your coronation day, the final brick that will complete the wall between the life you had known for five years, and the one you have to embrace now.

"Excellent choice," Loré says softly, and goes to collect the supplies to prepare your look.

Poe cannot remember the last time he hasn't woken up with a terrible hangover.

In reality, he knows the last time was the last morning he spent with you, when things still made sense. But since that awful day, the rest have become a blur of too many drinks in the quiet of your formerly shared quarters.

The beep of greeting that BB-8 gives him only strains his already growing headache. He mumbles a hello and staggers his way to the bathroom.

Poe splashes cold water on his face, raring himself for the day. Leia informed him last night that she has a mission for Black Squadron, and Poe couldn't have been more relieved.

When he was moving, when he was fighting, when he was doing anything other than sitting in this room, it was easier to ignore the thoughts that clawed at him in the night.

It was easy to forget the absolute gut-wrenching pain of your goodbye. To forget the memory of you walking back up the stairs, towards the life you were leaving him for.

It was easy to forget that he had hardly fought for you.

He dressed in his orange jumpsuit and together he and BB-8 left the room. The least amount of time he could stay in here, the better it was for his mind, heart, and liver.

The makeup is lighter than you had expected.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, the white face paint covers every inch of your skin, but it feels as if nothing is there at all. Loré paints two red dots on your cheeks, and finishes with the lip design, as Nové brings your selected gown in.

The dress takes a few minutes to put on. Sondé pins the the veil into the braided crown of your hair, and there is no more stalling to do.

You are motionless before the standing mirror. It is your reflection you see, but it's not someone you know. Queen Bhavisama looks back at you, her eyes welling with tears just like your own.

Before they can fall and ruin your makeup, you shove those feelings down. The numbing thought, "Know it's for the better," clings in your mind, and you let it wash over you.

Flight check is a reflex to Poe. Without even realizing he has started, he is already done. BB-8 wows something at it, but Poe only recognizes half of it. He hears the word 'general,' and he hops down from the X-Wing as Leia walks up.

"Commander," she says with a sad smile. The only type of smile Poe has received from any of his friends in the last few weeks.

"General."

"Are you ready for today?"

"Of course."

"Didn't have too much to drink last night?" she asks, but her demeanor makes it seem like she already knows the answer.

"I'm fine, Leia," he says softly.

"Are you?"

There is nothing but worry in Leia's face as she asks. She's not asking as his general, but as an old friend, the person who officiated his wedding, the person he's looked up to for years.

He can only bring himself to nod. Somehow, he thinks if he tried to speak the lie, he would falter.

"Be careful, Commander."

He nods to her once more and begins to climb back up the X-Wing, when Leia says, "And may the Force be with you." Not just on this mission, her eyes seem to say.

You have been shaking since Sarsa Broden gave you the responsibility of Naboo. You know there was a parade in your honor, you know that you walked through it, probably smiled and waved at your citizens, but it's all a blur.

Back at Theed Palace there is a party in your honor, yet you are incapable of finding a single reason to celebrate.

When you enter the room, you know there is commotion around you, but you don't hear any of it, until your father's hand is on your arm.

"We are so proud of you," he says, throwing his arms around you. You hardly feel them. His face holds no emotion other than delight, no matter how hard you search.

"Thank you," you mutter, shrugging out of his arms. You need to get out of this room, away from all these people.

You aren't sure you've cried before 9pm in any of the past weeks. Appointments have kept you too unfeeling to have time to. But the coronation ceremony has brought you to your knees, and you need to get out of here before you lose control.

"Ah, your highness," a voice says, and before you can register who it is, they have your arm in theirs. You look up into Sarsa Broden's smiling face. He's an old family friend, and typically the sight of him would have made you nothing but happy, but now, all you can see if him handing over Naboo to you.

"You did well today, my Queen," he says. The title chafes. Suddenly your dress feels much too tight.

"Thank you," you manage to say.

"Ah," he says, as a server walks by with a tray of food. "My favorites. Any for you--"

"No, no thank you," you say. Just the smell of whatever it is makes you nauseous. When was the last time you ate anything?

"I hope that you know you can call on me for anything you should need during your term."

"Of course I do," you say. The temperature in the ball room must have gone up at least ten degrees. It quickly feels hard to breath.

"I'm glad," he says with a smile. He studies your face for a moment and his smile drops. "Your Highness? Are you alright?"

"Perfectly fine, my lord," you pant.

"I know this can all be overwhelming, but I do hope it's all you ever wanted it to be."

You are going to be sick.

"Please excuse me," you say, not giving him enough time to respond before you bolt out the nearest exit.

Workers are a blur as you race past them, struggling not to knock them over.

Know it's for the better.

You hear footsteps behind you and know that it is your security, probably confused as hell about your sudden exit.

All you ever wanted.

At the end of the hall is a door out to the terrace.

Know it's for the better.

Naboo matches the mood of her queen. The temperature has dropped significantly, as heavy rain falls over Theed Palace.

All you ever wanted.

It is the final straw. Here in the downpour in the dark, with only a few streetlights and the glow of the opened door where your guards wait, you break down.

Falling to your knees, tears pour down your face faster than ever. You can feel the face paint slipping down your cheeks, but it doesn't matter. A scream like sob wrenches out of you as you hold onto yourself.

Both your father and Broden's words echo in your mind. Like scorpions they sting and sting, over and over again. You cannot find a way to be free of them.

Warm arms wrap around you, and for a moment you think it's one of your guards, but then you look up into Nove's face. It looks like she's crying, too. You open your mouth to say something but it just comes out in a sob. She clings to you tightly and rocks you gently as you cry.

"All I wanted was him," you weep, clinging to her just as tight.

"I know, I know."

"All I wanted," you say again, and you know you are shouting, but it has to come out. You say it over and over until your throat is scraped raw. Nové just rocks you in her arms and shushes you gently.

"I know."

The bottle of moonshine is empty before Poe realizes. Just like how the mission was over before he knew it.

The bottle was a gift from his dad. He came to visit Poe a few days after he heard the news. All attempts Kes made to get Poe to open up were futile. But when it finally all came out, over a couple glasses of the very same moonshine, Kes held him tightly, crying with him.

He left the bottle with Poe and told him to comm if he needed anything. Poe thought he could use another bottle right now, but knows that's not what his father had meant.

He holds the bottle in his hands, his grip tightening as he reads the label. It's the same brand, his father's brand, that Kes served to you when the two of you had gone to visit. Back when things were good, back when things made sense.

He doesn't realize he is holding the bottle too tight until it shatters in his hands.

"Fuck," Poe yells, trying to shake the shards of glass from his hands. The door to his quarters opens and Snap comes in, eyes wide.

"What the hell?" he asks, stepping over the shards of glass to look at Poe's hand. "What happened?"

"Bottle broke," Poe says through gritted teeth. "I'm fine."

"You're not," Snap says, pulling Poe after him. "You've got shards of glass in your hand."

"I said I'm fine, Snap!" Poe barks.

He has been like this for too long. Every little thing seems to set him on edge. He knows his friends are only trying to help, but each time they reach out, his anger only grows. No one can help him. It's a fate he has readily accepted. Why can't they?

"I know you are. But there's glass in your hand. I just want to get you cleaned up."

Poe keeps protesting as Snap leads him to Med Bay, but Snap ignores him. It isn't until they are sitting in the white, sterile room, his hand devoid of glass and bandaged, that Snap speaks again.

"What did the bottle do to piss you off?" he asks.

Poe's first instinct is to shake his head, but he finds himself saying, "Just brought up a memory."

"A bad one?"

"A Y/N one," he says quietly.

"Ah."

"You know," Poe say after a beat, "I drink to try and forget her, but everything ends up reminding me of her."

"General Organa told you she could find you another room."

"I don't want another room," he says. His voice cracks a little, but he fights to control it. "I don't want any of this, Snap."

"I know, Poe," he says gently.

"Why didn't I fight harder?" he asks, just above a whisper. He has kept these thoughts silent for too long. He wants them to come out, but knows it's pointless, given the state of things.

"What?"

"Why didn't I fight? Why didn't I confront her parents? Why didn't I take her off of Naboo, give her time to think it over? Why didn't I-"

"Poe, you--"

"Why wasn't I enough? Why wasn't our love strong enough?"

"Hey, don't start thinking like that," Snap says, bracing a hand on his shoulder. "You know why she did what she did. And you know it hurts her, too."

"I don't know what I know anymore," he says, dropping his head into his hands. He wrings his fingers through his mess of curls. They've been knotted for weeks, but he can't seem to find the desire to fix them.

"Maybe laying off the moonshine will bring some clarity," Snap says carefully. Poe lets out a tut of laughter and nods noncommittally.

"Thanks for the first aid, Snap," Poe says, and hops off the exam table.

As midnight overtakes Naboo, Nové and the other handmaidens have tucked you into bed. After spending stars know how long holding onto you on the terrace, Nové was eventually able to coax you back inside. Together, Loré, Sondé, and she got you out of the ruined coronation gown and into a warm bath. They brushed out your knotted hair as you sat in silence, and then crawled into bed next to you.

Loré, on your left, distracts you by reading inane articles from gossip nets, ones that sometimes get you to crack a smile. Sondé, on your right, has made a cup of warm tea, that she hands to you now.

Seeing that you are taken care of for the moment, Nové slips out of the room. The halls of Theed Palace are nearly empty as she finds her way into an unoccupied communications room.

She only has to wait a beat before the holographic image of Jess appears. Nové can't help her smile at seeing her, but there is pain there, too. A longing of her own.

"Hi, Supernova," Jess says.

"It's so good to hear your voice," Nové says gently.

"Yours, too."

"How are things?"

"They're alright," Jess says carefully. "Business as usual, but there is a tension that hangs in the air."

"Here too."

"How did the coronation go?" Jess asks.

"The ceremony itself went off without a hitch, but a few minutes into the party, Y/N broke down. She cried in the pouring rain for probably an hour, and all I could do was hold her," she says, feeling again, how helpless she felt then.

"It's good that you were there for her."

"Yeah," Nové says, "I'm just glad to see it finally come out. She's been a ghost these past few weeks. She only cries in the night when everyone else has left, but in the morning there are still red circles under her eyes. And then it's back to a living corpse. She hardly eats." Nové sighs. "I don't know what I can do to help her."

"I don't know that there is anything we can do," Jess says. "We've been trying to figure out how to help Poe over here, but he doesn't want to talk either."

"He's gone silent, too?"

"No, he just brushes us off when we try to. And he's taken to drinking. When it's time for a mission, debrief, he's there and in normal Poe spirit. But the second any of that is over, the tortured look comes back over him, and he disappears to his quarters to drink. He broke a glass bottle in his hands earlier today."

"How are they ever going to . . ." Nové trails off, unable to say it.

"How are they ever going to find each other again?" Jess asks.

"No. How will they ever get past this," Nové says.

"I don't know. Do you think there's a chance, after all of this is done?"

"I don't know," Nové says with a sigh. And she truly doesn't. She can't even imagine how tomorrow will shake out, let alone years from now. "Are you going to tell Poe we spoke?"

"I'm not sure. I'm going to go check in on him afterwards. I think today was particularly worse, because he knew that the coronation was taking place. I'll see if it's something he needs to hear, if it's something he can handle.

"What about Y/N?"

"Not tonight I won't," Nové replies. "We just got her into bed, I won't give her another thought to torture herself with."

"Don't forget to take care of yourself, too, Nové."

"I won't."

"I miss you like crazy."

"I miss you more," Nové says with a sad smile.

"Talk soon?"

"Absolutely. Jess?" Nové asks, before she can end the call. "We both miss you all. If he can handle it, tell him, won't you?"

"Of course. Goodnight, Supernova."

"Goodnight, Jessika."

A knock at his door awakens Poe. He lifts off the bed and notices the chair in the corner is in pieces, a bottle of whiskey lying next to him. He can't remember how it got there, or how the chair broke, but that has been happening more and more.

He has pushed his feelings down for so long, they seem to manifest in bursts of anger. He knows the drinking isn't helping these mood swings, but he can't bring himself to care to stop.

He knows he is drunk when he goes to open the door for Jess and nearly falls as he trips on more scattered junk. Jess walks into the room, and takes in the mess as she does. A bottle rolls away from her foot, rattling as she kicks it.

"Poe," she pleads, "Tell me this isn't all yours."

"What do you want, Jess?" he asks, flopping down at the end of his bed.

"At least say they aren't all from today."

"They aren't all from today."

"We're all worried about you--"

"I don't need your worry," he says, looking at her. "I'm fine."

"I never ever saw you drink this much when Y/N was around."

"Well she's not anymore, is she?" He can feel the fire blazing in his eyes as he says this, the anger forming inside of him.

"I never saw you drink this much before her, either," Jess says quietly.

"I'm fine," he says again, knowing it's a lie. "I'll quit soon, I'm just--"

"Trying to drink your way through the galaxy?"

"Why are you here, Jess?" he asks tiredly. "Come to dig the knife in further? I know you were calling Nové today."

"I did."

"So, how is she?" he asks. Jess knows he's not talking about Nové.

"The same as this," she says.

"Y/N is drinking herself to a stupor?" Poe asks with a pained smile.

"From the way Nové tells it, she can't bring herself to do much of anything. Says she's like a ghost."

A ghost. Poe can hardly imagine you as such. Can hardly imagine the woman he loves, the woman so full of life and laughter, suddenly empty and silent. The only time you were remotely like that, was around your parents, but even then you had venomous words to wield against them.

"She's not fighting anymore," Poe says, understanding, "She's accepted this fate her parents have decided for us."

"Not sure she had much of a choice."

"Yeah, but I did," he says. "I could have fought for her. I should have fucking been there today."

"What could you have done?"

"I could have tried," he says weakly. He stands, turning away from her as the tears he tries so hard to keep at bay threaten to fall. Jess ignores his desire to be alone and wraps him in her arms. It isn't until he's fully embraced that he realizes how much he needs this. He holds her tightly.

"I'm sorry," Jess says, the only thing she can think to say.

"I know," he says, breaking away from her. "I am, too." And that's really all he's been since it happened. Sorry for himself, sorry for you, sorry for the life you would have had, and the one you have now.

"So," he says after a beat, "What's her name?"

"Queen Bhavisama," Jess says quietly.

"Thank you for telling me," Poe says, a gentle dismissal. Jess nods.

Once she is gone, Poe sits back down and reaches for the closest bottle. He brings it to his lips but stops before drinking. His thoughts are on you, same as every day, but he cannot get the haunted image of you out of his mind.

He hates himself just a little bit for sitting here, knowing you are in pain. And he hates himself more because he knows that if he did run to you, it wouldn't change anything.

The bottle in his hand is mostly empty, and before he can take the final swig, he holds it up in toast and says, "To Queen Bhavisama." The liquor burns as it goes down and the bottle crashes onto the floor as Poe sobs into his hands.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fanfic #return to me

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 2 months

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Yavin-4 Boy - Poe Dameron

A/N: I've been bopping to London Boy lately (always?) and have been itching to write, AND just recently rewatched the entire SW saga, so behold, this creation. Hopefully you'll see me more regularly, but we all know how that goes.

TS Prompt #3: London Boy

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 1.9k Synopsis: Poe begins to wonder if life on Yavin-4 is enough for you.

When the alarm goes off before the sun has even risen, you let out a groan of annoyance. Not that the alarm should surprise you. Since moving in with Poe after the defeat of the First Order, this had become routine for the two of you.

Where you are all grumbles and large stretches, Poe is up at the first chime of the alarm. He leans over to wrap a strong arm around you, and like always, you try to coax him to stay in bed for a while longer. Only occasionally do your temptations work.

This morning is not one of those mornings.

After kissing you at least twelve times, Poe reluctantly pulls from your embrace and heads toward the kitchen. He shuts the door behind him, knowing full well that you will fall back asleep.

Because that, too, has become habit for the two of you.

When Poe rises early, the first thing he does is start up a pot of your favorite tea from Naboo. By the time the scent drifts to your bedroom, the intoxicating smell is enough to coax you out of the sheets.

There is a mug steaming on the counter when you step into the kitchen. You take a healthy sip, feeling the warmth travel to your stomach. You hum happily and hear Poe laugh.

"I don't know how you make this so much better than me," you say as he passes behind you, smacking your ass.

"I've had lots of practice. You might be better at it if you ever made it," he teases with a grin.

"Hey, I make it in the afternoons, sometimes. You've just got the morning tea shift."

"A position I happily accept," he says as he kisses your forehead.

"When do you have to head out?" you ask quietly.

"Half an hour."

"Will you be back in time for drinks at Finn's?"

"I'll be sure to. Wouldn't want to miss the Frantxis beer."

"Well of course," you say with a laugh, wrapping an arm around his waist, "Who would ever want to miss Frantxis beer?"

"A fool."

"Precisely my thought." Your humor dims for a moment. "Be careful?" you say quietly.

"Always," he says, his dark eyes locked with yours. With a hand on his cheek, you pull him in for a kiss that lasts much too long. For this, too, has become part of your every day life.

You fell in love with a man with a strong work ethic, something he learned from his parents, from his years spent working on their farm. Even though the fight with the First Order has officially ended, Poe's loyalty to the Resistance hasn't.

When there was a former First Order base that needed to be destroyed, or a former convoy that needed breaking apart, Poe was the first to volunteer.

And he knows the strain it puts on you. He knows the anxiety that comes over you when he leaves. But it's a integral part of him, one that he cannot fight, even if he tried.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

The mission this time around is a simple one. Chances of running into any severe danger are low.

Poe arrives to Coruscant to speak to the Senate. They have been asking for a member of the former Resistance, and now the Reformed Republic, to address the Senate.

Peace was tentative, it always was. With his speech to the Senate, they hoped to work it into their propaganda, to let former First Order controlled planets know that it was safe to go back to the freedom they had known before.

Poe enjoyed the change of pace, but when he finds himself done for the day in the early afternoon, he faces a choice. He can return home to you early, albeit empty-handed. Or he can return home a tad later, and bring you an elaborate gift.

Poe was under no impression that life on Yavin-4 was easy. When he wasn't taking off with the Republic, he was helping his Dad on their farm. And on the days he was off-planet, you were there helping.

You had grown up in a life of luxury: fancy dresses, decadent food, elaborate parties every night. None of which, Yavin-4 was in excessive possession of.

After the reformation, after your marriage, Poe had asked where you wanted to live.

"With you," you had said plainly. Poe began to laugh and explain himself, but you cut him off. "I know what you meant, and my answer remains the same. Wherever you are."

So you had settled onto Yavin-4, and left behind the life you knew before.

Poe has one of the million cruisers of Coruscant fly him to a nearby shop. When he steps inside, he doesn't even know where to start. The surrounding walls are stuffed with elaborate outfits, arranged by color, all different kinds of fabric ready to swallow the shop whole. On the tables filling up the sales floor, are shoes, bags, and jewels on top of jewels.

He isn't sure where to start.

His attention first clings to the dresses coating the walls. It's been so long since he's seen you in something ridiculously fancy. He touches a soft purple dress that looks and feels like it's made of water, but when he thinks about you wearing it, in the damp forest that is Yavin-4, he laughs.

There is a reason you don't wear all the gorgeous gowns that fill an entire closet of your home. Your wardrobe these days consist of the same utilitarian type of stuff the rest of the planet wears.

Poe wanders over towards the shoes, but again, can't imagine you wearing them instead of your battered work boots.

The tables full of jewels beckon to him next, and they are overwhelming to say the least. The only piece of jewelry that Poe consistently sees you wear is the wedding ring he gave to you a year back.

A necklace catches his eye just when he's about to give up. It's a small pendant on a gold chain. The pendant itself is a black circle, and at it's heart is your home planet of Naboo. Poe knows before he's even touched it that this is the perfect gift for you. He knows that Yavin-4 is completely different from your home, but if you have a piece of it with you--

"Anything I can help with?" the sales representative asks, interrupting his train of thought.

You are pulling on a black sweater when you hear the X-Wing land in the yard. You glance at the clock in surprise. You weren't expecting him for at least another hour. You finish fussing with your hair and walk into the living room just as BB-8 and Poe enter.

"Hey," you say, hugging Poe. His embrace of you is tight. "Did something happen?"

"What? No, I just missed you," he says, before kissing you.

"How'd it go today?"

"Politics is never really my thing," he says. A non-answer.

"Do you want a drink?" you asked, already walking towards the kitchen. There is something different about his demeanor, and you fear there is something he isn't telling you.

When you hand the glass to him, he sighs before taking a drink. He must feel you studying him closely, because he looks up at you with a laugh.

"What?" he asks.

"You tell me."

"I just missed you," he says, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I missed you, too," you say, and kiss him again. When you break apart, it's his turn to study you closely. You wait a moment, hoping he'll tell you what's gone wrong, when he says the last thing you ever expected him to.

"You're happy, aren't you?"

"What?" you ask in disbelief.

"You're happy?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"You don't miss all the fuss of life in Naboo, or crave the hustle of Coruscant?"

"What happened today?" you ask.

"I was just reminded of what you've given up, to live here with me."

"I haven't given anything up--" you begin, but Poe cuts you off as he paces towards the living room.

"Come on, this place is nothing like Naboo. The dense trees, the farms, we're miles away from any civilization," he says, running a hand through his hair.

"You said you only needed to be with me, but after seeing all that you're missing, all the nice things that you can't have here, I . . ."

"Poe," you say, walking towards him. He is shaking slightly as you put your hands on his arms. "I love Yavin-4."

"I know--"

"Let me finish, please. I love Yavin-4. I love that we get up at the crack of dawn every morning. I love how quiet it is here. I love going to your Dad's and drinking his insanely strong moonshine.

"I love farming with the both of you. I love that we have to travel so far to get our food, and that it tastes better than anything we could ever get in a city like Coruscant.

"I love that it's almost always just the two of us. I love this cabin, how we can have sex as loud as we want, because there's no one to hear for miles." He lets out a breath of laugh at that.

"I love that I had to learn all 53 rules of Primagge, and that when we play, I usually end up throwing the cards. I love that when I go into town, I usually end up hearing stories about you.

"I love that our friends come to visit, and that we have room for them. I love that you are teaching me to fly, and that BB-8 sits at the dinner table with us most nights.

"But mostly, I love you. And you are who you are because of Yavin-4. You are Yavin-4 through and through, and I wouldn't change a single thing. Believe me, if I wanted to put on one of those gowns, I would, and I would show this forest style like it has never seen. But I don't need those things anymore. I'm just happy here with you."

Poe takes a moment before he replies. Well, before he takes you in his arms and kisses you dramatically. You are both laughing as he tips you a little, but when he rights you, there are tears in his eyes.

"I love you so much, and am so incredibly lucky."

"You are," you say simply. He walks over towards the leather jacket he threw on the couch.

"So," he says, "Given all that you just said, this might seem like a stupid gift, but I saw this when I was on Coruscant, and I couldn't help myself."

He brings over a jewelry box and when you open it, you find a pendant, with Naboo emblazoned on it. It takes your breath away for a moment, and you see Poe smile.

"I figured you should have it, so even if we stay on Yavin-4 forever--"

"Don't threaten me with a good time," you interrupt, making him laugh.

"So even if we stay here forever, you'll still have a piece of home with you."

"Now who's the lucky one," you say quietly. "I love it."

"Here," he says, taking the necklace. You turn and he clasps the necklace close around your neck. He spins you back around and examines it. "Beautiful."

"It is."

"Not who I meant."

He pulls you into his arms, kissing you deeply. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. Even the taste of him is home. You wouldn't change a single thing about the life the two of you live, the life you fought so hard for.

"You are my home, Poe."

"And you're mine."

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction #TS prompts

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 4 months

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New Years Day - Billy Butcher

A/N: Happy New Year, friends! Hoping that this year brings nothing but the best for all of us. Here is a little New Years gift, albeit a little late. I want to push myself to write more this year, on here and not, so hopefully you'll see a little more of me!

TS Prompt #2: New Year’s Day

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Reader Word Count: 1.3k Synopsis: New Years morning with Billy <3

The first thought in Billy Butcher's mind when he wakes up is that if he tries to open his eyes, his head will explode. He groans as he turns away from the light streaming in through the small apartment's bedroom window and chances a quick peek at the room.

His head has not exploded, but it is pounding. After a few seconds to get used to the cruel light of day, he rolls back over on his back. The sheets smell of whiskey and something else he can't place, but definitely a smell from the party last night.

He reaches out, expecting to find you lying next to him, probably just as hungover as he is, and hopefully as naked as he had left you the night before. His hand only brushes over the coldness of your pillow.

He sits up quickly, which is a mistake, as the drinks from last night threaten to come back up. As his stomach settles, he climbs out of bed and follows the light coming from the hall. There is rustling and clinking coming from the kitchen, much quieter than the clinking glasses from the night before.

He finds you here, a trash bag in hand, and a fluffy robe wrapped around you. You glance up at him when you hear his shuffling and give him a tired smile.

"Happy New Year," you whisper.

"Is it?" he asks. He stops in front of you and leans down to kiss you. "What are you doing up so early?"

"The sunlight woke me up," you say with a shrug. "Figured I'd get a jump start on cleaning up the mess of our party."

"You don't have to do that all on your own, love," he says, taking the bag from your hand.

"I also figured you'd be pretty hungover. I didn't expect to see you for a while."

"Are you not hungover?" he asks, quickly recounting in his mind how many drinks each of you had. You might have had a few less, but he had a higher tolerance. If he was hungover, you had to be.

"Oh I am," you say with a pained expression, "Which is why I took four Tylenol this morning and why I couldn't fall asleep after I did."

"Rest, let me clean up," he says, steering you towards the couch. He sits you down and kisses your forehead. As he does, he sees the mess of beer bottles, wine glasses, and anything else one can imagine scattering his living and dining room.

"Remind me why we had this party?"

"Because it's what you do on New Year's Eve," you say, standing back up, "Like how on New Years Day, you clean up all the bottles your friends left."

"What are you doing?" he asks as you walk back into the kitchen and grab another bag.

"This one is for the trash, you work on the bottles."

"Who brought plum flavored beer?" he asks in disgust, chucking the can into the bag.

"Oh, my work friend brought. It was not actually as bad as you'd think. I could have sworn you tried some."

"No," he grumbles, moving on to the next five cans.

"You were definitely there when she was passing them around."

"I'm telling you, I was not. In fact, the only time I saw you at the party was when it was over and you finally joined me in bed."

"Don't say finally like you were in there all night," you say with a roll of your eyes. "You partied well past midnight."

"Well how could I not?" he asks, "The music never turned down once until everyone left."

"You're even grumpier this year than you were last."

"It's the hangover, love," he quips. You laugh and then immediately put a hand on your forehead. Billy watches you wince and comes over to your side.

"Maybe you need more than just Tylenol."

"I'll be fine. I figured we'd get some greasy breakfast food after this is all picked up and then get back into bed," you say. Billy raised an eyebrow at you. "No, not like that. The only kind of pounding going on today will be the one going on in my head."

"That's fair," he says, kissing your forehead.

"Also," you say, grabbing his hand before he walks off to pick up more leftover drinks. "We spent more time together last night than just at the end of the night."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, dumbass, you kissed me at midnight."

"That wasn't me, darling," he says, dropping his garbage bag on the floor. He notices smatterings of glitter all over his floor, and knows that it will be an even bigger mess to clean up, but doesn't care as he wraps his hands around your waste. You drop your own trash bag and look up at him.

"I'm pretty sure it was."

"I would have remembered that," he says, "But now I know there's someone from last night who is getting the ass-beating of a lifetime."

"Oh shut up," you say, shoving him gently. "Remember, everyone started counting down and I pinned you down--"

"Ooh," he says gruffly, pulling you closer. You roll your eyes.

"I pinned you down, meaning I finally found you, in the kitchen, and dragged you back out here for the countdown."

"And then what happened?"

"And then the clock struck twelve and you kissed me. Just like this." You close the gap between the two of you and tilt your head up to kiss his lips softly. His hand travels up into your tangled hair and you melt into the kiss for a few more minutes.

"Just like that," he hums when you break apart.

"Mhm."

"Expected something a little more wild for a New Years kiss."

"Oh, believe me, it got wilder when everyone left."

"Yeah, I'm remembering now." He thumbs at the opening of your robe and sees that it is the only thing you have on.

"Remember what I said about pounding," you say, reading the look in his eyes.

"Seems like we could have foregone the party and just spent the night together. No headaches, and all the pounding," he says with a wicked smile. You laugh and fall into his arms. "Unfair I only get you at midnight."

"You can have me at all your midnights. And I know I left you alone for a lot of last night, but I knew I'd get you all to myself this morning, that we'd clean up bottles together on New Years Day," you say, rubbing his back gently.

"I feel honored," he says sarcastically.

"No one else I'd rather clean up with," you say, looking up at him before breaking away.

You are quiet for a while, cleaning up your unspoken half of the mess. It isn't until Billy brings his full bag back into the kitchen that you speak again.

"You know, my friend with the plum beer told me something interesting."

"Yeah?"

"Well, she had been dating someone at work and they broke up after a few months. She said the break-up had been fine, but that after it was over, she had to ask to be transferred. She said she couldn't stand hearing his laughter, even four or five offices down."

Billy grunts in response, not sure what to say.

"After she told me, I found myself picking out your laugh in all of the noise last night." You sigh and Billy turns towards you. "Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I can recognize anywhere."

"Y/N," he says gently, taking you in his arms again. "Never. I love you."

"I love you, too." He leans in to kiss you once more, his grip on you is firm as he deepens the kiss, making it more meaningful than the quick one at midnight, or even the ones he scattered over your body last night.

"Happy New Year, love."

"Happy New Year, Billy."

#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher fanfiction #the boys #the boys fanfiction #the boys imagine #the boys fanfic #ts prompts

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 6 months

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Trick or Treat - Miguel O'Hara

A/N: Happy Halloween! Here's a little Miguel blurb for ya!

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara Word Count: 1k Synopsis: Halloween is not Miguel's favorite holiday.

"What are you wearing?"

"What does it look like I'm wearing?" you ask.

"Cat ears," he says dryly. You turn to smile at him and he jumps back. "And whiskers."

"Well, no one can say you're not observant, Miguel."

"What's the occasion?"

"Is that a joke?"

"I don't joke."

You walk over to him, recognize his tired face, the slump of his shoulders, and put your arms around him. "Long day?"

"You could say that," he says with a sigh. You give him a soft smile and he leans in to kiss you.

"I'm sorry, my love. And the occasion, is Halloween."

"Ah, how could I forget?"

"Don't pretend like you didn't notice a million little spider-kids on your way home."

"The real question is why are you dressed up."

"Didn't I already say this, it's Halloween." Miguel rolls his eyes at you and breaks out of your arms.

"You going to a party tonight?"

"No, I know you wouldn't want to do that." You follow him down the hall to your bedroom and watch as he undresses. "I just thought it might be fun to hand out candy and have a cozy night in."

"I like the cozy night in part," he says, snaking an arm around you, his bare chest warm against you.

"I figured I could convince you on that part," you say, kissing him. He hums deeply and suddenly you're falling back onto your bed, Miguel on top of you. "We could just stay here and I could find out if there's a tail to match this little outfit."

"Miguel," you say in a breath, squirming out of his touch as his hand travels down your backside. You roll out of bed and straighten your ears as you stand.

"Come back, baby."

"I can't," you tease, walking towards the door slowly.

"Come back," he says again, deeper. You open your mouth to respond just as the doorbell rings.

"Hold that thought," you say and rush towards the door. A pumpkin and a scarecrow are at your door and both happily take candy.

Miguel is behind you when you shut the door and turn around. He's frowning at you, and you notice that his shirt is still off.

"Don't you think it's a little chilly for that," you say, touching his muscular chest.

"Don't you think you could just leave that bowl at the door?"

"But then I would miss all of the cute kiddos."

"I don't care." He kisses you again, taking your chin in one hand and the bowl in the other. You are pressed against the wall, Miguel's muscular body against you. You could have stayed like that if you didn't notice the hand holding the bowl stretching towards the door.

"We are not leaving it at the door," you say, breaking away from his lips. "Now, why don't we find you a shirt and something spooky to watch."

Miguel sighs, a long suffering sigh, but follows you into the living room. You watch as he takes in the scene in the living room - three blankets over your couch: one with pumpkins, one with colorful ghosts, and one with some Halloween cats.

"I had to set the mood!"

"And set it you did," he says. Again, he is next to you, wrapping an arm around you. You kiss him softly and again, the doorbell rings. With a laugh you walk away from your growingly frustrated boyfriend and open the door to a few more trick or treaters.

"You missed three princesses," you say when you come back. Miguel has chosen a movie - one with a zombie bride in it - and you settle onto the couch next to him.

"Sorry I missed that," he says dryly. You come around the couch and rest in his arms.

"What's with you and Halloween?" you ask, looking up at him.

"I don't have a thing with Halloween," he says, "I just want to spend time with you."

"You are spending time with me."

"Not if you jump up every few seconds when the doorbell rings."

"You must have had a really shitty day," you observe. "I mean you can be negative, but I have not seen you this negative in a long time."

He kisses your forehead softly before taking a deep breath.

"Halloween . . . Halloween was Gabriella's favorite holiday. It was kind of our thing," he says. You sit up quickly and turn to face him.

"You should have told me that," you say, gently pushing his shoulder. "I wouldn't have--"

"You haven't done a single thing wrong. I should have told you. It's just . . . hard. It sucks."

"It does." You lean in to kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"Don't--"

"I am, and I love you."

"I love you."

You are not apart from him for long. His arm wraps around your waist and you're back in his arms, falling back on the couch. Sounds of the zombie bride fade into the background as your lips lock. His hands are rough as they graze your skin. You are just leaning into his body, breaking for air when the doorbell rings again.

"Son of a--"

You giggle as you get off the couch and bring candy to a cute little girl dressed as a cat. When you turn around, Miguel is there again. After sharing what he did, the weight on his shoulders seems to have lifted, but he seemed even more annoyed, this time around.

"We need to put the bowl outside?"

"We need to put it outside," he agrees.

You open the door and place it on the porch, and before you have even closed the door, Miguel is pulling you into his arms. You hear a splat and see a small web over your door handle.

"No more trick or treaters," he says, kissing you.

"No more," you say with a giggle as he wraps you into his arms and leads you back to the couch.

"Happy Halloween, my love," he says, hovering over you as he drops you onto the couch.

"Happy Halloween."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfic #spiderverse #spiderverse fanfic #spiderverse fanfiction

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 8 months

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Timeless - Peter Parker

A/N: Hello! Long time no see. Trying to get back into writing and was struck with the idea of creating fics inspired by Taylor Swift's work; however, that is a ginormous task. But in this thought process I was inspired to write this story. So alas, I present my first Taylor inspired fic. Who knows if or when they'll be more, but I hope you enjoy!

TS Prompt #1: Timeless (Taylor's Version)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Word Count: 2.4k Synopsis: Peter and the reader fall into different love stories as they enter an antique shop.

Fall hits New York the same every year. Starbucks releases their pumpkin spice menu, the general public complain that it's too soon, and a week later colds and sweaters are no longer so far fetched. Central Park, once so green and full of life, turns dead and brown. There are fewer people on the street, or maybe it just seems so because they now huddle into one big mass to fight off the wind from the Hudson.

September 3rd, and you are tugging on a sweater you hadn't expected to use for weeks.

With the coming of fall also comes a new semester of college. A new year of classes, friends you'll only know for those four months, and long commutes to campus.

You take a glance in the mirror and brush back a stray strand of hair. As you check yourself over one last time, your phone buzzes on the counter next to you.

Peter: Coffee in hand, 3 minutes away.

You rush out of the bathroom, knocking the curling iron onto the floor, and tug on your shoes. Living on the thirteenth floor, it would take you almost three minutes just to get down to the lobby.

Hauling your back-pack over your shoulder, you blow a kiss to your cat and lock the door behind you.

Peter is walking to the front door as you come out of the stairwell. He smiles at you, holding out your coffee order.

"Hey," you say, a little out of breath. You lean in for a quick kiss and fall into pace together. "Thank you."

"Anytime. I figured coffee might make the first day back easier. Is that a new sweater?"

"It is. And it did," you say, taking a greedy sip of your drink. "What's your schedule looking like?"

"Nothing until 10, but then back to back classes. You?"

"I have a break around noon, but start first thing this morning."

"Excited?"

"I am," you said, looking at him. He smiles softly and takes your hand in his. "I like the first day - yeah there's nerves, but it's also full of new beginnings and hope."

"Including a new route," he says as you turn two blocks earlier than usual.

"My first class is on the far side of campus, this is a shortcut. You know, if your classes don't start until 10, you don't have to be here."

"I know," he says, smiling again. "And I can't promise that I will meet you every day at 8 to walk you to your class, but I'm happy to do it this morning."

"Walking me to class on my first day like a parent?" you ask with a laugh.

"Yes, and make sure you don't get to running away before I get that first day of school picture. I want it for our Christmas cards."

You're laughing as a window display catches your eye.

Timeless, the display reads, in large print newspaper clippings. The individually cut letters would typically look a little serial killer-y, but the shop had arranged a tsunami of old photos around it, making it look like a moment ripped out of time.

As Peter stops next to you, you realize the common theme of the display. In each photo, whether it's from the early 2000s or the 1930s, there is a couple in love. A woman with long hair and bellbottoms looks lovingly up at a man with a long beard and mustache strumming a ukulele. Christmas morning 1994, a man grins lovingly at his partner as he opens his PlayStation. Wedding dresses with big 80s sleeves, tea length gowns of the 1950s, and dancers in colorful geometric prints, all gazed back at the couple looking eagerly into the window.

"Let's go in," you say, practically subconciously.

"Aren't you worried you'll be late on your first day?"

"Aww, who gives a damn about ice breaker games?" you ask as you push open the door to the antique shop, the bell ringing in welcome. An old man at the register nods at the two of you, then goes back to his books.

"Look at all of these," you say, taking in the endless displays around you. The Timeless theme follows you inside. Not only do old photos cover every inch of the shop, but so do letters close to crumbling, porcelain trinket boxes that hold vintage rings, and clothes from every era imaginable.

"I wonder how long it took to collect all of this."

"Many, many years." You both jump as the man from behind the counter is now next to you. He holds a cane in one hand and his glasses in the other. "I've been working on this collection my whole life."

"It's incredible," you say with a smile. "Is it all for sale?"

"Most of it. Some of the pieces are from my own life that I won't part with. Did you notice the wedding picture in the window, bottom left corner?" he asks. You glance back towards the window and the shop owner laughs. "Of course you didn't. You could stare at it all day and still find new things. I do each day.

"Anyways, that's mine. Taken 40 years ago when I married my wife, Marjorie, right here in Queens. Don't believe I'll be parting with that any time soon. Just completes the collection.

"Well, look around the shop and let me know if you have any questions."

"Thank you," you both call as he makes his way back to the register. You exchange an amazed look with Peter.

"This is definitely worth missing ice breaker questions," he says. You laugh and lean up to kiss his cheek.

"I can't miss everything, but I think a few minutes in here are worth the delay."

You stroll away from him - both of your attentions caught by separate corners of the store. Peter wanders over to the small record section, the wall covered in Elvis posters, women draped effortlessly from his arms.

You decide to take a look at more of the photos. There are boxes upon boxes that look as if they haven't been opened in fifty years. There is no chance that even a third of them could fit on the walls of the shop.

You pick a box at random - a red photo box with a few scrapes along the side. Even looking through just the photos in this box would take hours. Thumbing through them, one catches on your thumb.

You pull it out and find a scene so familiar but unique all its own. Like the famous photo you saw in nearly every history class, a soldier kisses a woman in the 1940s. The streets around them are crowded, with other couples out of view embracing just the same.

The scene before you is a celebration and as you look at it closer, hoping to take in each and every detail, slowly the man's features shift to Peter's. No longer does the man have black hair. No longer is the woman he kissing the woman you first saw, she now looks just like you.

The streets are crowded. With trembling hands holding a small stack of letters, you look through the crowd, craning your neck to catch just one glimpse of him. All around you, loved ones are reuniting. Mothers are kissing their sons' foreheads. Women weep as they fall into the arms of their love.

Just as panic starts to grow inside you that maybe he's not back, that your prayers have not been answered, you see him. His brown hair is shining in the sun, his hat in his hands. His eyes, so full of hope, scan the crowd.

You cannot help the swell of emotions that come over you as you rush towards him. You knock elbows, mutter apologizes to the crowd as you make your way towards him. A few steps away, Peter sees you, too.

His smile grows into the breathtaking grin you love and missed so dearly, and before you can even process that he's safe, that he's home, you are crashing into his arms and his hands are in your hair.

You are melting in his touch as he kisses you. The long years of the war, the years of worrying, years of fearing every knock at the door, years of just one page of his words every few months, all slip away as the two of you come together.

His lips feel the same, which is somehow odd. How could all the years and all the changes you had both been through left this the same? Left this passion, this connection the same?

"Oh, I've missed you," he says, pulling away for air. You grin at him and kiss him again. Once, twice, three times until you are wrapped up in each other's arms again.

"Find anything good?"

Peter's voice jolts you out of your thoughts. Your pulse fluttering as if you truly were the women getting kissed in the photo, you show Peter what gripped your attention. He smiles and takes it gently from your hand. He looks at the inscription on the back you hadn't noticed.

"James and Dottie, 1944."

"It looks so much like that one we saw in school, but look at all of the people around them."

"So much love," he says, almost to himself. Your eyes meet and for some reason a slight blush covers your cheeks as you smile. The intensity of his stare becomes too much and you make your way down another aisle of the shop.

The shelves around you are full of books, some titles you recognize, some you don't, and some are so worn you wouldn't be able to even if it was your favorite. Once again, one stands out to you more than the others.

Half hanging off the shelf, a deep purple book draws you in. You take it off the shelf in a small cloud of dust. The inside of the cover reveals it is a romance, although that doesn't come as a surprise. You read at a whisper, "In the 1500s off in a foreign land, I am forced to marry another man . . ."

The walls surrounding you are tall and cold, the stone masonry reflecting the feeling in your chest. The white gown that drapes along your frame feels as heavy as chains.

At the end of this death march, the doors open upon a crowd full of people, your people, all dressed for the occasion. And there, at the end of the aisle is your betrothed.

But that man is not Peter.

The figure walking you down the aisle tries to usher you along when you come to a stop. Anxious eyes all around look at your frozen form..

"I can't do this."

The shock of what you've said gives your escort pause and you slip your arm away from his. Discarding the bouquet of roses, you take off back up the hallway.

Shouts follow as you run, gathering the skirts of your gown up in your hands, but you don't stop. Guards at the entrance of the castle reach for you, but guided by your heart, you are too quick for them.

The sun is shining when you break out of the castle, but you keep going. You go until your heart is thundering, your breathing comes fast, and Peter's cottage is in sight.

Even after the turmoil you experienced, just the sight of his home soothes you. You take a few steps up to his door and he opens it just as you raise your hand to knock.

"What are you--"

"I couldn't go through with it. I don't love him," you say. Peter lets out a surprised laugh, shaking his head gently.

"We talked about this. They'll come looking for you, Y/N."

"Then we'll run," you say, taking his hand in yours. "I don't care if we spend the rest of our days running, I prefer that to a life of luxury with someone I don't love."

"You mean it?'

"Yes."

"Then I'll keep you safe. For every second that we are together, for every moment that you are mine, I'll make sure no harm comes to you. I can't promise you riches, but you'll be safe."

"I gladly leave that all behind for you," you say. Peter is smiling as he closes the gap between you, his hands cupping your face as you melt into his touch.

You close the book with a secret smile and slip it back onto the shelf.

You know that you should leave, you are at least ten minutes late to class, and a few minutes walk from campus. But the shop has captured your heart, the stories embedded inside have.

"Y/N," Peter calls. You make your way towards his voice and as you do you pass more relics of the past. A photo of a 30's bride, high school sweethearts sitting on the porch of their first home, a young couple on the way to a dance.

"Hey."

"Hey, we should probably get going don't you think? You don't want to miss more of your first day."

"They are important," you say absentmindedly. Maybe it was because you had just slipped into fake memories, or maybe it was the fact that it was the first day of the semester, but looking at Peter, his hair mussed in a way that can only come from styling, a soft smile on his face, you were transported to the first day you met.

In a crowded room a few short years ago, on another September morning, first day of school, you lay eyes on Peter for the first time. Your fellow classmates are introducing themselves, the room filled with a dull hum of discussion, but your eyes only lock with his.

He smiles at you and moves your way. He holds out his hand and tells you his name, and somehow, you just knww. There's not always proof, there's not always a war or an arranged marriage. Sometimes, you just know.

"Yeah we should go," you agree. Peter leads the way to the door and holds it open for you. "I love you," you say, softly, and for the first time.

"I love you."

The temperature had risen since you entered the shop, but nevertheless, as you fall back into step together, Peter's arm is around yours and you know that one day, you'll have photos of the life you'll make, just like the ones in the shop.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman fanfic #spiderman fanfiction #ts prompts

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 2 years

Text

You Aren’t My Boyfriend - Billy Butcher

A/N: Hi all, sorry I’ve been away for a minute, October has been a busy month. I bring you my next Kinktober fic. Influenced by the song, Boyfriend by Ariana Grande & Social House.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Reader Word Count: 3.3k Synopsis: Billy has to teach the reader a lesson about who she belongs to.

Kinktober prompt(s): rough sex, marking, possessivness

You are a fucking brat.

Billy knows this about you. He knows what you do in large crowds, what you do when all the male attention is on you. He knows the way you flirt, the way you turn everyone’s favor towards you.

And he knows that while you are doing all of this, you keep your eyes locked on his.

The boys were currently gathering intel on Supes in a seedy bar just outside of city limits. The place was crowded, due to underground Supe fights that went on in the basement, $100 a ticket just to watch. Billy had chosen this place, footed the bill even, because if MM’s sources were correct, there was a person here who could help him get one step closer to bringing down Vaught.

But trying to focus on finding one face in the crowd was proving more and more difficult with you across the bar, drink in hand, a man practically drooling down your neck. You smirk the moment that Billy’s eyes land on yours. In one quick movement, you pull the bloke in closer and his lips land on your neck.

Billy grips his glass in hand tightly as you let out a little sigh and tilt your head back. When the man pulls away, Billy sees the hickey that is forming on your neck and the glass shatters in his hands.

A few heads turn to look at him, but he doesn’t give a fuck. Still looking at him, you smile and push away from the other man.

“Did your new friend tell you anything about our anonymous source?” he asks as you saunter over to him, slowly, making sure that he is watching every movement.

“We didn’t do much talking.”

“What the hell are we here for then?” he asks.

“Relax, boss, I just wanted to blend in,” you say, giving him another easy smile, the same one you had graced the asshole at the bar with. “I’ll start looking now.”

“You’ve got a little something,” he says, stepping closer to you to keep you from walking away. His chest barely an inch from yours, with a gentle thumb he brushes over the forming bruise on your neck. He fills with pride when he notices your breath has become shallow.

“Is it noticeable?” you ask softly.

“No, it’s just small.”

“Oh, good,” you say. You begin to move away from him, but as you move past him, he grabs your wrist, squeezing it just a little too tightly. Again, he hears your breath hitch.

“The ones I give you tonight,” he whispers, “Will be.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Well, a bloody waste of time that was,” Billy grumbles as the boys all pile into the safe house. No one said anything in the car on the way home. After a good couple of hours at the bar, all you had to show was your hickey, Hughie’s black eye, and Billy’s terrible mood.

“We just got unlucky,” MM offers, trying to soothe the tension that was forming in the group. “We can try another night.”

“No, fuck it. Fuck your source,” Billy says with a roll of his eyes. He stalks down the stairs to the basement, to the bedroom he had chosen in the abandoned house.

The room is silent for a few moments after Billy leaves. Eventually, everyone makes their way to their respective rooms. Coincidentally, your bedroom is also down in the basement, which, as you walk down the stairs, you realize probably isn’t coincidence at all.

Billy’s door was shut - not that you would have gone knocking anyway. You go to your own room and shut the door. You start to peel off the skimpy dress you had worn to the bar. The once glittering number now reeks of stale beer and is sporting stains in a few places.

As the dress falls to your floor, you hear one strong knock from your door. Heart racing, you open the door to Billy, who’s towering over you in the doorframe.

“He--”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What?” you ask, shaking your head.

“First you act like a slut at the bar, teasing me all night with that limp-dicked asshole, then you open the door to me in nothing but your skivvies, when you should have been the one pounding on my door, begging for forgiveness.”

“I have nothing to apologize for,” you say, looking up at him defiantly. Billy gave you a harsh smile. In one quick motion, he grips your cheeks in his hands, backing you up into your bedroom. The door shuts behind him with a hard click.

“You have nothing to apologize for?” he asks, his breath quick. “You let that fucker touch you, mark you, while I watched.”

“I’m allowed to do that,” you say, putting your hands over his, trying to pull them away. “You aren’t my boyfriend.”

You hiss in a breath as Billy moves towards you. His mouth is a breath away from yours. He stares into your eyes, but not lovingly. Billy is thoroughly, royally pissed, and he is about to show you just how much. A small, cruel smile works its way across his face. “You aren’t my girlfriend,” he agrees. Seconds tick by agonizingly slow, and when Billy finally does move, he turns your head as his beard scratches against the skin of your neck. His breath is hot and makes gooseflesh break out across your skin.

“You whore,” he murmurs, his lips only brushing your neck minimally. “This neck is mine, and you let someone else touch it,” he says, his thumb sliding down the column of your neck, squeezing just slightly. Your breath picks up. “Kiss it.” His lips close softly above your pounding pulse. “Mark it.” Sharply, his teeth sink into your flesh and he sucks hard. You moan his name as you fall into his arms.

One strong hand is squeezing your throat, not too harsh, but just enough to make your breath quicken, to awaken every part of your body to him. You grip Billy’s strong shoulders as his mouth trails down your neck inch by agonizing inch, leaving a trail of bruises of his own.

“This neck,” he says, the words tickling against your skin as he works his way back up, behind your ear, “Belongs to only me.”

“My neck belongs to me,” you try to say firmly, but when he nibbles on your ear lobe it’s a little hard to keep your voice steady.

“No love,” he says, standing to his full height as he looks down at you. You don’t have to glance in the mirror to know that your neck is red and covered with his marks, his claiming of you. “All of you, belongs to me.”

“If I agree, will you leave me alone?” you ask.

“Is that what you really want?” he asks dangerously low, stepping closer to you. When you don’t answer right away, he takes your chin and tilts you face to look into his smoldering eyes. “You know the word. Say it, and I walk out of here.”

“I know,” you say quietly.

“So, why don’t you agree, because it’s the truth? Because,” he says, his hand trailing down your chest to squeeze your breast roughly. You whimper and stumble a little bit towards him. “Because you want me to fuck and claim you so badly. I know why pulled that little stunt at the bar.”

“Maybe I liked him.” In a quick motion, Billy’s hand rips down one of your bra straps, exposing a breast. With his thumb and forefinger, he pinches your nipple. The pain is sharp but the breath that hisses out of you is more moan than anything else.

“What was that you just said, love?” Painfully slow, he pulls down your other bra strap so that you are bare in front of him. His thumb is still pinching your nipple and if they weren’t already, your panties are soaked.

“Maybe I—” He closes his mouth over yours, devouring the lie before you can say it. You wrap your arms around him, clawing at his shirt covered back. Billy groans into your mouth as you tug his shirt off of him. When you break away from him to pull it over his head, he snaps your bra off with a quick motion. At the present moment, you don’t care that it is probably broken.

“Get on the bed,” he commands. You open your mouth to argue, just for the sake of disobeying him, but he slaps your ass hard, stopping the words from coming out. “Be a good girl for once.”

You decided to obey him, but in your own way. You close the gap between the two of you, pressing your bare chest to his, rubbing up against his jeans and the hard-on that is threatening to break lose. Your hands go to his face to bring it to yours. You kiss him just as fiercely, your teeth biting on his lip as your fingers make their way up to his hair. You pull on it as you lead him back towards the bed. You fall back first and notice the gleam in his eyes as Billy watches your breasts bounce.

“Fucking hell,” he says.

He is on top of you in a moment, kissing you rougher still. He bites and pulls at your lips, your tongue, until your mouth is swollen and still begging for his touch. He trails back down your neck, leaving a few more bites, but his primary focus for now is your chest. With his hands gripping your hips harsh enough to leave bruises, he starts to mark every inch of your collarbone and chest before he even gets to your breasts.

He is straddling you and with his hands now on both of your breasts, kneading them as he looks into your eyes, listening to your moans, he is back to the Butcher you know. To the man in charge. It brings out something defiant in you.

“Have you satisfied your male need to take what isn’t yours?” you ask. Billy smiles wickedly at you.

“How many times do we have to go over this, darling?” he ask, bsending low until his lips are over yours, but not kissing. “You aren’t my girlfriend, but you aren’t going to see anybody else. This face?” he asked, gripping your cheeks with one hand tightly, leaving your breast lonely. “This face is mine. These tits?” he asks, flicking your nipples so that you let out another cry. “Mine. And this pussy.” His hand trails down your stomach until he has one hand pressing onto your wet panties hard. “All mine. I don’t care how many times I have to claim them, they will always belong to me. Do you understand?”

He slaps your face enough to make you jolt and bring your eyes to him, but nothing harsher. “Do you understand?” he asks again. “Be a good girl and say you do so I can get back to these incredible tits of yours.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good girl,” he says, rewarding you with another breathtaking kiss. When he pulls away, he brings his attention back to your breasts, which are practically heaving with each of your heavy breaths. He closes his mouth around one. You writhe underneath him as his lips move over every inch of your breast, nipping and sucking and leaving marks, too. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, he moves to your other breast and drives you crazy again.

“Billy,” you beg.

“Tell me what you want, love,” he says, his mouth still around your breast.

“I want you to fuck me,” you pant.

“Already?” he asks, sucking hard. You cry out and try to grind up against him, to get some relief from the need that is coursing through your body, but he puts a strong hand on your hip and keeps you pinned to the bed.

“Please, Billy.”

“You haven’t earned it yet,” he says, moving up so that his face is in front of yours. One hand trails down your skin dangerously, reaching the band of your panties. His fingers hook the sides of them and in a quick jerk, pulls them down to your knees. You can’t help the pathetic moan that comes from you.

Again, Billy grips your cheeks and brings your gaze to his eyes. He can see the lust in yours and the sight makes him grin. His large palm cups your pussy, but nothing more. You try to grind against his hand, but he pulls it away.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “You heard me. You haven’t earned it yet.”

“What do you want me to do?” you asked, your voice shallow. He smiles and rewards you briefly. He sits up and turns your hips, spreading your legs. His tongue makes one long, slow stroke up your pussy. And then he pulls away.

“Get on your knees,” he commands. You do as he instructs, too horny to argue with him just now. You drop to your knees by the bed, taking a moment to kick your panties away. This is the way that Billy likes you best: naked and ready to do whatever he wants. He grins at you as you find your place in between his legs. You start to pull at his jeans, but with a rough hand, he grips your hair into a ponytail and pulls you away.

“Did I tell you to take off my pants?” he asks.

“No,” you say. He raises an eyebrow. “No, sir.”

“Good girl. Why don’t you just start through the jeans,” he says, readjusting his grip in your hair. “I’m not sure you’re ready for anything else yet.”

“Please,” you whimper as he brings your head down to his bulge. You kiss him through his pants. He’s already rock hard as you start to massage him. You hate touching him like this. You give everything to him, but he always keeps himself from you, once step at a time.

Going against him, you unbutton his jeans. He starts to argue, but you’re not listening as you pull him out of his boxers.

“You naughty girl,” he groans as you rake your tongue up his large shaft slowly. “Never listen to orders.”

“I needed to taste you, baby,” you say sweetly, looking up at him as you work him in your hand. Billy shakes his head but eases his pants down lower. Your tongue traces over a vein along his dick, all the way to his tip. Billy lets out a groan and when you do it again, pushes your head onto his dick when you reach the tip. You gag on his massive dick, and have never felt more turned on in your life.

“Look at you,” he mutters, his breathing heavy. With his hands in your hair, he guides your head up and down his dick, until you are a sloppy mess. You hum as you take him deeper and you can see the thought cross his mind to come in your mouth. Not that you would mind having him spill into your mouth, but you crave him inside of your pussy so badly. When he lets you pull away for air, you are panting and wipe the spit from your lips as you look up at him. He reaches out to massage your breasts, looking at the mess he has made of you.

“Fuck me,” you plead.

“I’m fucking your mouth, ain’t I?” he asks, bringing your lips back to his dick. You are being a good girl, following his command. You take him in your mouth and swirl your tongue around his shaft. “Look how pretty you look with my dick down your throat,” he says. You whimper and the sound vibrates against his dick.

“Think you’ll look even prettier with my dick in your pussy?”

“Yes,” you pant.

“Before I do that,” he says, gripping your face as he stands with you. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Mine,” you say, unable to help yourself, the defiant part of you hard to kill.

“Ah,” he says, his thumb hooking in your mouth. “Let’s try that again. Whose pussy is this?” His hand again cups your pussy, this time two fingers sliding through your folds.

“Yours.”

“And who gets to touch it?”

“Only you.”

“Who gets to fuck this pussy?” he asks.

“Only you.”

“Good girl.” He pushes you onto the bed. You watch as he kicks off his pants and stalks towards you. He repositions you on the bed, bending your knees and pulling your legs around his hips.

“Are you ready?” he asks. Before you can answer, he slams into you and you cry out. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust to him, not that you really need it as you’ve been wet for him since he walked into your room.

Each thrust is harsh as he again grips your hips and waist. You can see clear bruises along your hip bone. You are crying out with each of his thrusts, quickly losing your control. With his thumb, Billy rubs your clit as he continues to pound into you.

“Billy,” you whine.

“Yes, love?”

“I love being fucked by you.” He smiles and leans down until your chests are touching. He grips your wrists and brings them up over your head.

“I know you do.”

“No one else fucks me the way you do.” You whimper as he adjust your positioning and turns your hip to the side.

“Look how good you’re being now that you’ve got your way,” he says. Your only reply is a moan. He continues to thrust into you, his movements staying steady as his breath quickens and his own orgasm grows near.

“Billy,” you cry out. “You aren’t my boyfriend.”

He stops his thrust immediately and looks at you with fiery eyes.

“What’s that now?”

“You aren’t my boyfriend,” you say quietly, “But I don’t want you to touch anyone else.”

“I know, love,” he says, picking up his pace inside of you slowly. “I don’t want you to either.”

“No one fucks me like you,” you say again. Whether you had more to say, Billy doesn’t hear it. He drops your hands and instead puts his own around your neck as the other strokes between your legs. With every thrust of his hips, every squeeze of his hand, and every flick against your skin, you get closer and closer to your orgasm until you fall apart around him. You are screaming out his name as you come and as your body clenches around Billy’s cock, he comes too. Saving a little for your skin, he pulls out and marks you one last time.

As his warm seed cools on your skin you look at your body. There are hickies all along your chest and breasts, and if you could see your neck, you know it would be coated in his mark. Your hips and wrist bare his bruises as well. He has thoroughly claimed you as his own – you have never felt so content.

“Love,” he says, brining your attention back to him. He’s on his knees next to you, his body coated in sweat. Even as spent as you are, you still crave him. “Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again.”

“What stunt?”

“This one,” he says, his finger brushing over the hickey the man in the bar left.

“I don’t have to listen to you,” you say. “It’s my nec—”

He cuts you off with a hand over your mouth. “This heart,” he says, his fingers tracing over your pounding chest, “Beats for me. These lips,” he says, kissing you gently, “Beg for me.” His hand grips your pussy one last time. “This pussy? Comes for only me. You understand?”

“Maybe I need one more lesson.”

“Naughty girl,” he says, claiming your mouth with his own.

#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher smut #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x you #billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher fanfiction #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys fanfic #the boys fanfiction #reader insert #kinktober

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 2 years

Note

hi! I'm fairly new to you blog but it's become one of my favourite 😂 I adore your writing. I was wondering if I could request a headcanon of being married to Leonard Mccoy and your life on the Enterprise? Thanks!

oh my gosh thank you so much!

I love Leonard so so much so I am a bit biased, but this man, he was meant to be a Husband

Yes he is a grump all the god damn time, but this man melts when he is around his s/o

When he's had a stressful day, he knows that he can come to you and just the sight of you will make his stress melt away

Leonard is very good at compartmentalizing, it's part of what makes him such a good doctor, he knows what needs to come first, but there are times when he finds himself craving the sight of you, getting to hold you in his arms

So he'll make an excuse, even if it's just for a few minutes, to leave Med Bay and find you

He'll pull you into a quiet corner, just holding you in his arms, burying his face in your neck, and it's enough to keep the both of you going until the next moment you can steal

The crew quarters on the Enterprise aren't the greatest, but to Leonard, yours are the greatest sight in all the galaxies

Leonard has taken you on every single piece of furniture in your quarters (perhaps even in Med Bay) but that's not what makes your home his favorite place

You are in every part of the home - even if you're not there

Pictures of your wedding, trips together, are scattered on all the tables and a few on the walls

You brought your bedding from home, because Starfleet regulation just wasn't soft enough (and fuck if you aren't right about those damn expensive sheets)

And even when you're not there, he knows it won't be long before you are, and that thought alone can keep him going for hours

The two of you have become the unofficial go to for relationship advice

You represent the ideal couple, because you make all the craziness aboard the Enterprise work for your relationship

Countless times, Jim has shown up, either in Med Bay, dragging you along behind him, or at your quarters, so he can tell the two of you about his latest relationship and get your opinions

The two of you make it a priority to schedule date nights - it's the only way that your relationship can survive

These can be a romantic dinner back at your quarters where Leonard makes your favorite meal and the two of you end up in the bedroom for the rest of the night

Or they can be in his office in Med Bay, laughing and kissing over patient files he can't bring himself to look at, because he's got you in his arms, and last for only about an hour

The point is, the two of you make time for each other

And even when you can't, Leonard finds ways to show you he loves you

He'll make sure to leave little notes for you to stumble upon while you work, he'll send you flowers when he's on a planet because it made him smile, just like you do

Whenever the two of you have to work together, you try to keep it as professional as possible, but sometimes Leonard just can't

"As beautiful as she is, she's completely wrong," he'll say when you're in a discussion with the crew, and he won't even notice until he sees the smiles on their faces

My wife this, my wife that, my wife, my wife, my wife

You are his rock, but he is yours, too

Leonard can read your emotions with just a glance over at you (maybe it's because he's such a good doctor, but most likely it's just because he knows you that well)

He knows what to do to make you feel safe and comforted and listened to, when he knows that you need it

Leonard is also skilled at taking care of you in other aspects

The steady, steady hands of the good doctor have never once let you down

Leonard's voice gets a deeper twang when he's aroused (or when he's sleepy)

So when you're fucking, all his babys and darlings and honeys come out and that alone can finish you off

He is your best friend

You can tell him anything - bad day, fight you had with a friend, when you're sick - and he'll take it all in stride, knowing that letting you vent is usually most important

When you're done though he will take some action

For instance, you've got a headache? He'll prescribe you some medicine. Slept funny on your back? He knows just the perfect herbal remedy and a massage that will straighten you out

The two of you laugh more together than you do with anyone else

Jim swears he has never seen Leonard smile so much as when he does when he's with you

Some nights you'll stay up late, lying in each other's arms, just talking about what your future will look like, when you'll settle down, where, whether children are in your future

He is supportive of all your dreams and vows that whatever you want, he will get for you

Leonard says "i love you" like he breathes

First thing he does when he wakes up, last thing he says at night, when you pass down the walls of the Enterprise, when he's talking about you and you're not even there, it's just a reflex for him

Leonard is just the sturdiest man you could ever know - he's there to support you, there to take care of you, there to love you, there for anything you might need him for

He's such a good husband that it makes you want to be a better spouse, too

Of course you fight like all couples do, and they can get heated because Leonard is stubborn, but you always end up resolving things

Leonard knows he can be stubborn, so he usually comes to you after he's cooled down and apologizes for what he said

You tell him you don't care, it was a petty fight, and you love him

His favorite words in the world

The entire crew is sick of your PDA (there have been meetings) but Leonard doesn't care, he will kiss you whenever and wherever he wants

He'll pull you into a passionate kiss and not care that the crew all lets out a collective groan, because he is with you, and there is nothing else in the world that makes him happier

#leonard mccoy #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy headcanons #leonard mccoy headcanon #leonard mccoy imagine #star trek #star trek headcanon #star trek headcanons #star trek imagine

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 2 years

Text

Morning Moments - Poe Dameron

A/N: I guess this will be part of my kinktober fics?? I stumbled across prompts and saw morning sex and immediately thought of Poe. So, voila!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 1.7k Synopsis: There is nothing Poe loves more than early mornings with the love of his life.

Kinktober prompt: morning sex

Poe loves early mornings. Early, early mornings, when the sky is still dark, when the world is still asleep, when there’s nothing but the feeling of you in his arms, your deep breathing, and the slight movements you make against him.

Poe hums as you wiggled against him again. At first, he’s positive that you’re asleep, but the last movement, your ass grinded directly against him.

“Y/N,” he says. You wiggle against him again, this time letting out a sigh of your own. He smiles as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you even closer, your back to his chest. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” you say sleepily.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” you say. Again, you grind your ass against him, this time pressing up against him for longer. He lets out a breathy laugh, his breath tickling the side of your neck.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you hum innocently.

“Doesn’t feel like nothing,” he says, his hand splaying across your stomach. He starts to make slow circles over your shirt, focusing on the steadying of your breath.

“Just trying to get comfortable,” you say. You lean in to him closer, your head against his shoulder. He kisses your cheek and shoulder softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” Your voice sounds sleepy again. He is still gently tracing your skin, his hand going as low as the waist of your bottoms, but never further.

“You sound tired,” he says. His mouth is against your shoulder, his words kisses upon your skin. You only mutter a slight response. He smiles. “Y/N.”

“Poe,” you say, half whine, half sigh.

“You sound tired.”

“I am. My husband wakes up incredibly early,” you mutter. Poe laughs.

“I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you?” he whispers, the question dancing against your ear.

“How?”

“Just let me take care of you,” he says. His hand, which was on your stomach, tightens and brings you flush against him. You let out a little sigh.

Poe continues to touch your skin. His one hand makes lazy strokes across your stomach, brushing the band of your underwear, but never going lower. He snakes his other hand underneath you and that hand journeys upward, slowly touching your breasts, tracing your nipples.

You squirm against him -- your movements sensual and rhythmic. With ever swivel of your hips, Poe grows harder, and his hands on you grow firmer. You let out a gasp when Poe finally, finally made it past the band of your underwear, his hand slipping underneath the cotton.

“You just love to tease me?” he asks, fingers slicking in between your legs. “Don’t you?” Your only answer was another whimper. If it had been later in the day, you would have been mouthier, had a quip for him, but he liked you like this. When you were practically melted beneath him. The moans and the whimpers you allowed to slip out in the morning, this was when Poe got to see the real you.

“You’ve been grinding up against me all morning,” he whispers, his lips closing around the lobe of your ear. “And now you’ve got nothing to say.”

“Poe.”

“Yeah, baby?” He moves his fingers up slightly, and you have no more words for him as he brushes over your clit. Only another moan breaks from your lips, still quiet in the morning light that is beginning to break over the horizon.

He is used to this -- to having you in his thralls, where your mind isn’t on the Resistance, the First Order, or any other worry that seems to keep the both of you up. He is used to the peace that comes over the two of you when his hand is in between your legs and your moans are the only sound. He knows how to make it last, how to drag out every touch, ever swirl of attention, every flick of his finger, to make you a puddle beneath him, until you are practically begging.

You know this, too. Your breathing has quicken and your grinding against him only becomes stronger. You want him, and he knows this. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, telling you to slow your roll, to let him take care of you. At this point though, you’re beginning to wake up, and you want to torture him just as much as he is.

Your arm breaks free from his around you and you reach around to massage him through his boxers. He lets out a hiss of breath that echoes in your ear. He can see the goosebumps that break out across your neck. He kisses them all, sensuously, slowly. You arch your neck, giving him more access, as your stroking of him becomes slower, less focused.

“That’s right,” he mutters. “This is about you.”

“I want to touch you,” you whine. Your hand is back on his dick, stroking him again. You move slowly, but Poe knows that you know what you’re doing. You want to drive him crazy just as he has you.

“Y/N,” he says, twisting closer to you, so that you are forced to pull your hand away. He hasn’t forgotten about the hand between your legs, and neither have you, because your heart is now racing and your breath is coming in fast. “Y/N.”

“Poe,” you whimper. He knows that he could make you beg for it if he wanted. But he doesn’t. He just wants to watch the glory of you come undone beneath him. His fingers return to your clit and circle around it rapidly until you do finally come. You cry out, the sound a little choked as the only sounds you have let out this morning have been sighs and whines to him. He touches you until you’ve come down, until you stop shaking beneath him. Well, at least partly. When you relax your legs, they quiver. The sight makes him proud.

He kisses your shoulder a few more times, his arms still wrapped around you.

“You are fantastic,” you say with a sigh.

“You are,” he says against your skin.

“Please fuck me,” you whisper.

“What was that?” he asks. He obviously heard you, but he loves to hear you say it.

“Please fuck me.”

“Don’t you want to just stay like this?” he asks, even though the only thing he wants right now is to be buried inside of you.

“I want you,” you say. You reach around again, and this time, he doesn’t stop you when you grasp his cock in your hands. In fact, he even shrugs out of his boxers so that he can feel your hand wrapped around just him. Your back still to him, he feels your breasts as you awkwardly try to stroke him from your angle.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pulling away from him and turning so you’re facing him. With your eyes on each other, you both lunge forward to capture each others lips. You are flush against Poe’s body, his hardened cock brushing your stomach. Still locked in his lips, you stroke him, this angle giving you better access to drive him crazy.

Poe pulls away from your lips with a moan. He clutches your hand and pulls it away. He is breathing heavily when he pins your hand behind your head, pressing you back into the bed. Within moments, he is inside of you. You cry out his name, but he slides in easily. He gives each of you a few moments to get comfortable before he starts thrusting into you.

“You are so stunning,” he says, kissing your lips. You only smile in response, your breathing is too quick to make a coherent response. “I love being inside of you. I love being the only one who gets to do this.”

“Me too,” you whine. Your hand is on him again, tracing over his chest and back. He has half a mind to pin the other over your head, too, but he likes the feeling of your hand on his muscles too much. “I love being fucked by you.”

“Y/N,” he moans, your words bringing him closer. He reaches between your legs again, his thumb finding your clit. He kisses you as he begins massaging it softly, his thrusts into you still steady.

You are whimpering at his movements, and when you come around him, you cry into his mouth. He catches every sound in his lips as you clench around him and within a few more thrusts, he is coming inside of you.

The two of you lay there, sweating and breathing heavily, looking into each other’s eyes. You smile at him, your eyes crinkling in the way he loves, in the way that shows you are perfectly content. You kiss him a few times, your hand cupping his cheek.

It is now morning in all of its glory. The sun is basking on your half naked body and Poe is almost jealous that he has to share you with it.

Eventually, he is able to coax himself off of you. He makes a trip to the bathroom and brings back a warm cloth to clean you up. He settles back down next to you and pulls you into his arms, your head on his chest.

“I love you,” you hum, your fingers tracing across him absentmindedly.

“I love you.” He kisses your forehead.

“I wish we could just stay in this bed forever,” you say. He mutters his agreement. When your eyes turn up to him, his have closed again. A slight smile is on his face, making you smile, too.

“Don’t watch me sleep,” he mutters. You laugh. “It’s creepy.”

“You’re just so handsome,” you say. He opens his eyes to meet yours. You kiss him, your lips intertwining easily.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he says. “We’ve got a little while before--”

“Yeah,” you interrupt. You lay your head back on his chest and he kisses your forehead a few more times.

“Maybe when you wake up, I’ll be grinding up against you,” he says, the sound ruminating in his chest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say with a happy sigh, “I was fast asleep when you started things.”

“Mhm. I’ll see you in about an hour.”

“Goodnight.”

“G’night,” he mutters.

“I love you,” you say. He hums it back. It’s incoherent but you know what he means and that he means it.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron smut #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #sw #sw imagine #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #reader insert #kinktober

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