#I like the thought of her leaving a part of herself with him there
Note
hello! i know there's a lot of jealous astarion x tav stuff out there, but could you do a jealous tav x astarion scenario please? maybe also make it spicy??
Astarion x jealous!reader
There were very few moments for all of you to relax and take a breath these days. With the quakes getting stronger, the cult getting closer, and just Gods knew what else around the corner, it was difficult to find some time to recharge. But, you all always seemed to eventually find the time.
Down at one of the taverns, you and the group decided to break loose and have some drinks for the night. Gale and Halsin didn’t want to come. Halsin still abstain from alcohol, along with his vague comments on ‘past mishaps and making a fool of himself’ (which honestly just made it all the more intriguing), and Gale just wanting to turn in early for the night. With everything going on with Mystra recently, more and more he had been pulling back to think by himself, but assured you he would be himself again soon enough.
Karlach usually tagged along, but just wasn’t feeling crowds at the moment. It would be more strange for Laz’el to come. And Wyll had come for the start of the evening but left after one drink as he was a responsible young man.
All that was left was you, Shadowheart, and Astarion.
“This wine tastes like cat piss.”
“You’ve tasted cat piss?” You clip back. Wittier than usual now that you had a few drinks.
Astarion gave you a dull, “ha ha,” before he got up and headed for the bar to get a different vintner offering from the bar keep. “Maybe I’ll splurge a little a spend a whole 3 gold to get something a little better than the swill the rest of you are used to.”
“How people ever found him charming enough to be lured to their death will always be a mystery to me?” Shadowheart remarked before taking a sip of mead from her cup.
You chuckle at her joke and watch as Astarion made his way to the bar. Weaving in between the crowd like he was made more of mist & air, rather than flesh and blood.
Alone, you and Shadowheart chat quietly at your table before she finished her drink, dabbed her lips, and announced, “I’m going head back and turn in with the others. I trust that you and Astarion will make it back alright on your own?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t we?”
“Well…I wouldn’t judge if the two of you wanted to spend sometime alone. We’re usually in such close quarters together that I’m sure it’s hard to be alone with someone special.” You blush at Shadowhearts comment. Not nearly as blunt as Laz’el but also not at all subtle. “Although, perhaps he has other plans for the evening?”
You follow her eyes over to the bar. Finding Astarion instantly, but also the pretty human girl hanging on his every word; and nearly him. Astarion, for his part, not seeming nearly as put off as someone in a relationship should be by her flirtation.
“I’ll take my leave now. I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever this is turning into. If it turns out for the good, be safe and have fun. If it turns out for the worse, well…try not to get us all arrested by morning.”
She gave a small way and saw herself out of the bar. Leaving you there with your thoughts, warm ale, and a stewing feeling of dread in your gut. You try to calm yourself. But you weren’t exactly the best at tamping down your impulsive thoughts. They had gotten you this far, hadn’t they? Perhaps they could take you a little further as you went up to the bar. “Shadowheart went home.”
Astarion and his new playmate both turn to you in surprise. The former looking genuinely surprised, while the woman looked more annoyed than surprised by your interruption. “Oh. Was she feeling alright? It’s rather early.”
“Yes! The night is still young.” The woman’s hand landed on his arm, and you glare daggers at the spot it landed. Wishing for real daggers. “But, if your friend isn’t feeling well, maybe you should go and check on her.”
She was trying to muscle you out. Eliminate the competition. As far as she knew Astarion wasn’t attached, or maybe she didn’t care, so your presence is an obstacle to her goal of claiming the handsome stranger. You had to admire her boldness. You don’t think you could ever be so confident to just ‘lay claim’ to a man you had only just met and make your stance known. If it had been anyone else she claimed you would have been impressed and supportive. Women helping women. Problem was this was your man and she was competition that needed to be eliminated.
“I think I’m going home too.” You pressed further.
“But I just ordered my wine.” Astarion quipped. Seeming not to get your hint at all. But the woman did.
“Yes. We’ve just freshened our drinks.” The vampire turned his gaze to the woman with a sharp arch of his brow. Clearly communicating ‘who is this ‘we’ you speak of’ with no words at all. “Why don’t you run after your friend and he’ll see you later. Perhaps tomorrow morning?”
“Oh….”
“I’m out of here.” You didn’t bother listening to whatever excuse, silken words, or outright lies Astarion was going to tell this hell cat to get out of the hole he just dug himself, but you weren’t interested in watching him dig.
Slamming your empty mug on the counter, you turn and head for the door. Everyone parting ways for you with the mood you were in. The cold air to your face was sobering, literally, and you shrug your shoulders in as you head down the dark streets towards the inn for the night. If you walked fast enough maybe you could actually catch Shadowheart on the way.
“[Y/N]! Wait!”
You turn to look over your shoulder as Astarion called your name. Coming out of the tavern with a skid and dashing over to meet the space between you. “Where are you going? Are you really going to leave?”
“Would you rather I sit there and watch that woman paw all over you?” You jab back. But Astarion didn’t seem wounded.
“Oh that. Yes. Rather forward for a lady wasn’t she?”
“So why didn’t you stop her??”
“I don’t know.” He replied with a shrug. “Old habits.”
You huff and pull your arms in tighter against the cold. Maybe you had been wrong in assuming that Astarion thought of ‘loyalty’ the same way you did. You trusted him with your life, but maybe you couldn’t trust him in a bar. You didn’t genuinely think that he would go off with her, but even the hint of implication made your blood boil. “I get they might be ‘old habits’ but if you could not flirt with people, I would appreciate it.”
A grin slithered up on Astarion’s face. “Are you…jealous, my love?”
“No!” You snap back quickly. But his grin just gets bigger.
“Hmm…I guess it’s understandable. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve started a cat fight in a bar, you know? I just never thought you of all people would be swayed by such petty emotions.”
“I’m going home.”
You turn your back on him again, which was the worst thing to do on a vampire, and you felt him snatch you before you were suddenly in a dark alley all alone together. “I get jealous too.” He told you. Almost like a whispered confession. Able to be quiet now that you were away from the crowd, and the streets, and the noise. “I get jealous seeing you with the others. The attention you give them. It should be for me.”
“They’re just friends.” You whisper back to Astarion. Feeling as if any louder and you’d break this spell between you in the moment. You didn’t know what kind of spell it was, but you were transfixed in it.
“I get jealous of all the strangers you want to help. Literally anyone who needs help, you help them. That big heart. Where will I be, if you keep opening it up to others?”
You gasp when you felt his hand drift over your ‘heart’. “I’ll always have space for you Astarion. You shouldn’t be worried about that.”
“I get jealous of your bedroll.” His words caught you off guard. Almost as much as his teeth at your ear. “Curled up with you. Holding your body all night. Keeping you warm. It should be me.”
“You’ve never mentioned it.”
You can’t feel your breath come out in a little pant as you spoke. Enamored by Astarion and his weight against you and the wall. “We should…find some place private.”
“Here is private.”
You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear his grin and it made your knees quiver. “Someone could see us.”
“No one will see us.” He assured you. “I’ve used this alley before.”
It was probably not the best time to bring up his past conquests when you had just had a conversation about jealousy. Or perhaps it was. Instead of feeling angry like earlier, you suddenly felt the incredible urge to erase every memory Astarion had of this alley, this place, those people, and fill him with only thoughts of you. That there were no other conquests until he claimed you.
Jealousy seemed quite the aphrodisiac. It might not have been the ‘privacy’ Shadowheart had mentioned when she made her comment. But it was fun. And no one got arrested.
#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion bg3#astarion ancunin#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate#tav#baldur's gate#baldurs gate imagine#baldurs gate scenarios#bg3 imagine#bg3 scenarios#gender neutral reader
236 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗼𝘀- 𝘀.𝗿. [𝗽𝘁. 𝟭]
pairing- spencer reid x fem!reader
wc- 3.5k
summary- you meet spencer reid while he's in your hometown on a case. you share one day before he has to leave. what happens when you can't stop thinking about each other?
warnings- sfw, reader is referenced as a woman, canon typical case discussion/emotions, fluff to angst, no happy ending (for now...) takes place in massachusetts for this first part, lmk if i missed any!
a/n- so. i ended up making this multiple parts. it's just too long. here is part 1 enjoy 😚
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
The soothing sun of an east coast spring morning bathes your skin in warmth, releasing some tension you have carried in your muscles since you first arrived at your desk this morning. The wind rustles through the trees, the idyllic scenery around you in motion with the breeze. The plants in the rose garden, the leaves and petals swirling around, they all follow the gusts in time, and you wish your morning was so easy. Your eyes fall shut, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks as you recall that initial feeling of dread, the way it seeped through your bones when you arrived to work, met with a ransom note left on your desk. One million dollars. That’s how much the sender was demanding. One million for the safe return of Charles Anderson, local politician, diplomat, and the man who owns and funds the very library you manage.
At first, you were convinced it was a prank, refusing to let in the pure panic pounding at your heart until you were certain something was very wrong. Asking for $1,000,000 from a local library almost seemed like a joke to you at first, like a teenager made it up to spook you. It wouldn’t be the first time. You took the note to your boss’ office, eyes widening, panic in full force once you saw the state it was in. Papers everywhere, desk drawers flung open haphazardly, and an open window. Your heart nearly stopped as you raced back to your desk to dial 911.
Your eyes flutter open, back to reality as the tires of a black SUV screech against the library’s parking lot, coming to a halt right before you. You instinctively back away as a group of polished professionals exit the car, guns and badges strapped to their clothes. Your fingers find the pendant of your necklace, nervously fiddling with the small pearl resting on your chest. You greet the man in the suit, who introduces himself as Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. You walk the group of concerned faces over to your desk, where the note was originally found. They bag all evidence, and soon you’re left with only two agents. One is a kind woman with black hair who introduces herself as Emily, and the other is, quite literally, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. His brows furrow and his big brown eyes bore widely into yours, checking for any and all signs of distress as he shakes your hand, introducing himself as Spencer.
His hand lingers, his warm palm resting in yours for the briefest moment. A jolt of electricity shoots through your veins all the same. You yank your hand back, not out of disdain, but because of the unfamiliar comfort of his touch. You hardly know this man, only so much as his name, but the mere touch of his calloused palm floods you with warmth, with comfort, as if you’ve known him your whole life. It scared you, but the reassurance in his eyes now puts you at ease. He knows. He feels it, too, you can tell.
Emily can tell, too, apparently. She clears her throat, effectively popping the golden, glittery bubble that surrounded you and Spencer in that moment. Her eyes flit between the two of you and your cheeks burn, you avert your eyes until the embarrassment passes. You suppose this is what it must be like being surrounded by profilers all day, your thoughts and feelings constantly on display. If it were a certain profiler, though, you’re not sure you’d mind so much.
“Ooookay…” Emily trails off, accusation lacing her tone, “I’m going to take a look in Anderson’s office, there could be something there that'll help us find him. Reid, you’re gonna stay here with this lovely lady until we get the all clear,” she nods towards him. Spencer Reid. You replay his full name in your head on a loop, it’s pretty, like him.
His head snaps up toward his coworker, brows furrowed as he stutters, “b-but I thought Hotch wanted me to-”
“Stay with her? While I go investigate? Yes, he did,” Emily finished for him, eyes boring into his in an attempt to send an unspoken message.
You’re no profiler, but now it’s your turn to flit your eyes between the two people before you, deciphering the unspoken words between them. From the blush creeping up the apples of Spencer’s cheeks and Emily’s knowing glare, it’s safe for you to assume she’s throwing him a bone here. Thank God for that.
As she turns to walk away, a lightbulb goes off over your head, “b-but-” you stop Emily as she walks away, and she whips around with an inquisitive look on her face, “is it safe to stay open? I mean, they broke in here and took Charlie-uhm-Mr. Anderson- and I don’t want our patrons to be in danger.”
“That’s an excellent question, Miss,” Emily responds, and the calming tone of her voice puts you at ease, “from what they’ve found at the station, the threat appears to be towards Anderson personally, not any of the institutions he owns. We’d like to keep it open so as to not cause public suspicion, the attention could make whoever’s taken him panic and kill. If anything happens, we’re here, and we have emergency teams on standby.” You nod, fingers once again anxiously fiddling with your pearl as Emily heads into Charlie’s office.
The first few minutes after Emily leaves you two alone is painfully awkward. The two of you stand still at your desk for a beat, both sets of eyes avoiding the other as much as possible while a thick silence settles between you.
“Uhm-” Spencer’s voice cracks as he attempts to use it, he clears his throat before continuing, “you can-you can keep doing what you normally do. I’ll just be here to protect you.”
Your eyes drift to his biceps, which are unfairly toned for such a lanky guy. You wonder how the cotton of his shirt would strain against them while he wrapped his arms around you, protecting you from whoever left the note on your desk this morning. The chaos of this morning would at least be worth something if it leads you there.
“What, like a security guard? I thought you were supposed to be some FBI hotshot,” you flirtatiously test the waters, teasing him gently. Your sparkling eyes now scan back up his neck, to his lips, then back up to his own eyes, and the contact makes you nearly dizzy.
“Oh! Well no-no not necessarily a security guard. Security guards became more popularized in the 1840s when a man named Allan Pinkerton founded the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, which is now one of the largest private security companies in this country, actually! Their primary focus is on protecting institutions and artifacts,” he fidgets with his fingers as he rambles, and your heart grows three sizes.
“Bodyguards, on the other hand, originated over 2,000 years ago during the reign of the Roman Empire. They protected royalty and leaders, so a bodyguard would be a more accurate description.” He finished his thoughts by clasping his hands together, interlacing his fidgeting fingers, while a flat smile appeared on his mouth. He looks almost guilty, like he’s said too much and is afraid you’ll laugh or tell him to shut up.
Luckily for him, though, he’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, so you smile and say, “that's really interesting, Spencer, I had no idea," you see him relax a bit at your validation, so you keep going.
"You said bodyguards protect royalty?" it's nearly breathtaking how enthusiastically he nods, his soft hair moving with him, "so I can be, like, your queen for the day, hm?” you raise a brow at him as you fiddle with the end of his tie, and his face is nearly red as a tomato by this point.
“Yes!” he nearly jumps out of his own skin at the contact, and you nearly melt from how endearing it all is, “well, your safety is incredibly important so maybe you can just pick up from where you left off before we got here,” his voice picks up in speed and your heart could burst at the fact that you’ve worked him up this much while doing so little, “you can pretend like I’m not even here, I’ll just be sure you’re safe, while the rest of my team works to safely return Mr. Anderson,” he slows down a bit towards the end, taking a breath and giving you a smile, a real one this time.
You return it, “thank you, Dr. Reid. You being here has already helped more than you know,” he finally initiates eye contact himself this time, his head snapping up automatically, before he could decide not to.
“Go-good,” he clears his throat once more, “I’m glad to help. That’s my job.” You exchange another set of smiles and you wonder how long it will be before you just can’t take it anymore.
“Well, unfortunately, though, there is nowhere for me to pick up on, because the first thing I did when I got here was call you guys,” your smile only widens as he shakes his head, cheeks tinting once more, “oh-no-no of course, yeah that makes sense.”
“Lucky for you, though,” you poke at his chest gently, “it seems as if my first task of the day is restocking the nonfiction section, let’s go!” you chirp as you march along, rolling the cart full of returned books.
“Why is that lucky for me?” he trips over a cord in his attempt to catch up with you, and you giggle, reaching out a hand for him on instinct. To your surprise, he links his pinky with yours.
“For someone who knows as much about security guards as you do, I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you like nonfiction,” you say while you swing your arms back and forth, and he mumbles in agreement.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“Wait a minute, so-let me get this straight,” you stop and turn away from the bookshelf to face the tall man behind you. Over the past hour, you’ve reshelved your way to the romance section, “so you have three Ph. D.s, two B.A.s, and you’re working on your third? While working for the FBI?” you push the cart further down the aisle as he walks beside you, leaning against the parallel bookshelf when you stop.
“Yep-yeah, that’s-that is correct, yes. I-uh- I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory. You were accurate in your assumption about nonfiction,” he jokes, a sweet smile on his face. His smiles have grown more confident in the past hour, the more you two exchange niceties, anecdotes. You revel in those smiles, soaking in each one like a cat laying in the sun.
“I love that, education is so important,” you remark, and his blush deepens. Whether it’s because of your compliment or the shirtless man on the cover of the pirate romance you’re reshelving, you’re not sure. All you know is that this man before you makes your heart twinge with a longing you haven't felt in years. You want to see that blush on those cheeks everyday for the rest of forever.
“Is that why you wanted to work at a library? Because education is important?” he questions. You can tell he's desperate to keep the attention off his reddening cheeks, the blush now making its way to his ears. You could die at the way the tips of them turn pink, but you choose to answer his question instead.
“My mom always told me that education sets you free. I think it’s so true, no matter how you go about seeking that education. When you know better, you do better, y’know?” you pause, and he nods like you’re the most important person in the world, “I wanted to be able to encourage that in our patrons. I think I’ve done a good job,” you smile as you think back to the successful programs you’ve run through this library: book clubs, after school science fairs, and more.
“I’m sure you have, I can tell that there is immense love and care poured into this building on a daily basis. Your passion shines through you, y’know,” Spencer dotes, and you nearly forget how to breathe. His compliments seep through your skin, making its way into your bones. You shudder. This man is something else.
“So, what made you decide that the FBI was where you wanted to use all this knowledge?” you ask as you ruffle his hair gently, eagerly drinking in yet another smile. This one’s shy, aimed at the ground. A blush he’s so desperately trying to hide creeps up to the high point of his cheekbones, despite his best efforts to conceal his flustered nature from you.
“I had a mentor, he founded the unit back in the 70s. Hand picked me from the academy,” he lets out a nostalgic chuckle at the memory, and you wish you could bottle it up like a perfume, “we were really close, he’s the only person who could beat me at chess, actually," he's looking down when you turn to face him, his foot kicks around at a stray pebble that's made its way inside from the courtyard. You can tell he's not sure if he should say more. You hope he does.
"He quit a few years back without warning, he lost someone he cared about and couldn’t take it anymore. It really wrecked me at the time, but people move on, I guess…” he trails off, sheepishly looking once again towards his Converse. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and he's wearing that same guilty face from earlier, as if he’s afraid he’s said too much. It’s not possible, though. You want to know every detail, glimpse into every nook and cranny of this man’s peculiar life.
“I know what you mean,” you start delicately, so he knows you mean it, “Charlie-uhm- Mr. Anderson-” you corrected, “he came to speak at one of my grad school lectures, what, probably five or six years ago now?" you chuckle at the memory, unbelieving that it was already so long ago, and Spencer smiles with you. It makes you feel like the queen of the world.
"From the second he began speaking to us about this library, I fell in love with it. I spoke with him afterwards and it was an instant fit. I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to him,” the dread from this morning slowly creeps back into the pit of your stomach as you turn to Spencer with sad, wide eyes.
“My team is some of the best in the world,” Spencer reassures you, a hand resting on your shoulder that eases the erratic beat of your heart, “they are doing everything they can to find him and return him safely.”
You greedily lean into his touch, savoring the feel of his forearm against your cheek, “‘m worried about him,” you croak, eyes glossing over, “he’s older than he used to be, y’know. He’s stubborn, but he’s not so spry, especially compared to when I first started working for him. I’m scared,” you confess, tears finally spilling over your lash line.
“Come here,” Spencer whispers mainly to himself, but you pick it up. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as he envelops you in the sweetest hug known to man.
His arms fit perfectly around you as you cuddle into him, utilizing him for every last bit of comfort he’ll allow. You turn your head so your temple rests on his chest, eyes scanning over his biceps, now flexing and straining against his printed button up. You allow yourself to indulge in the tautness for just a moment, before you wrap your arms around him in return. He takes this as a sign to pull you in deeper, tighter, a large hand soothing the expanse of your back in calming circles.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispers into your temple, and you shudder at the way his breath hits your skin. You want to feel it all the time.
Once he releases you, you reluctantly return to your shelving. You thank your lucky stars that your back is facing towards him, lest you give up all your cards so quickly. Now that you’ve had that contact with him, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go without it. You can still feel the warmth of his skin as he wrapped himself around you, the softness of his forearms, the way your arms wrapped perfectly around his waist. A giddy weight sits heavy in your stomach, you’re breathless, like you’d been touched by an angel. Maybe you were.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
You thank your lucky stars that Spencer was right. Later in the afternoon, his team had found Charlie in an abandoned warehouse by the bay, the men who took him are in custody, and now you’re sitting in a plastic, sticky hospital chair as the steady beeps of an EGK machine torment you from across the hallway. You pick at your nails, desperate to pass time until Charlie’s family gets here. You promised you’d stay with him, why wouldn’t you after everything he’s done for you? What you don’t understand is why Spencer has stayed behind with you.
“You don’t have to be here, y’know?” you say, even though you desperately want him to stay. You nudge his knee gently when you see a small smile form on his lips, “wouldn’t you much rather be closing out this case with your team?”
“I’d rather be anywhere you are, making sure you’re okay,” he tells you matter of factly, eyes looking directly to yours.
Those agonizing big brown eyes have plagued you all day. Every time you catch even the slightest glimpse, an overwhelming ache punctures through your heart, right in the middle. You imagine it’s what being shot with Cupid’s arrow is like. A heavy silence falls between you then. You both know what comes next. Spencer and his team close the case, and he goes home. You both turn your gazes forward, avoiding the other’s sad eyes, avoiding his departure.
A sudden clapping noise jumpstarts you back to reality, and you reluctantly turn away from Spencer to find Charlie’s wife behind you. Her hands are clasped, eyes glassy and wide. You’re frozen at the sight of her, the true gravity of what you’ve experienced settling in fully. A pit sits in your stomach like a rock at the bottom of a lake. You know you must look foolish, but your body can't move, all your energy has been usurped by the otherworldly events of your day. Your red, dry eyes meet her glassy ones, and you wish so desperately you could be of some sort of use.
Spencer thankfully takes over, patting your knee like he can read your mind as he directs Charlie’s distressed wife to the room across the hall. You sit, now alone, with your back to the wall. You feel outside yourself, like you’re floating above the hospital, not actually in it. You’re not blinking, you’re pale as a ghost.
You watch half heartedly through the glass as Spencer explains to her what’s happened. You know he’s told her he’s okay by the way she gasps, pulling him into her arms without a second chance. You feel ridiculously jealous at the sight of it.
When he exits the room to give her some privacy, that same, all knowing silence dawns upon you two again. He stops in front of you, crouching down to meet your level. You keep your gaze on your loafers tapping against the linoleum floor. Spencer takes your wrists in his hands and moves them apart, leaving you no choice but to accept your vulnerability. Your now glossy eyes reach his, and it’s like you can see the ache, the longing for what never was and never could be.
“I-” Spencer starts, but his voice croaks, so he clears his throat and continues, “I had the best time keeping you safe today. I’m really happy we were able to find your boss, I know he means a lot to you,” his voice is gentle, kind, and you want to strangle him for it. Your life has been turned upside down, irrevocably changed, and this is all he’s leaving you with? You foolishly anticipated a grand confession, for him to sweep you off your feet and vow that 90 minutes isn’t that long of a flight, that you could make it work while he’s in Quantico and you’re here. That was your mind’s fairytale, though, and this is real life.
“Goodbye, Spencer,” you whisper through an embarrassing onslaught of tears, “I hope you fly safe.”
You disassociate once more, only pulled back to reality by the feel of Spencer’s soft, chapped lips against your forehead. Then, he’s gone.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fan fiction#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid cm#spencer reid fic#spencer reid one shot
182 notes
·
View notes
Text
At the End of the World
(Cooper Howard x Reader)
A/N: I have no idea what is going to happen next ya’ll. I need to figure out what direction this shit is going in cause I’m so lost 😭
Warning: mentions of child death, mentions of panic attacks, nothing outside of canon
Word Count: 2.4k
Summary: You open up to Lucy about your past. Here is Part 1 and here is Part 2
As you followed Cooper back down the hallway towards the kitchen, Lucy passed you both.
“We’re leaving soon, girly.” You told her.
“Okey-dokey! Just gonna get my things together really quick.”
Back in the kitchen, Alma was lighting herself a cigarette.
“Icy May said the girl is the daughter of a Vault-Tec big wig.”
”What’s it to you?” Cooper looked over to Alma.
“Cooper.” You said his name almost scoldingly. He didn’t need to be rude to Alma. She had been gracious enough to let the three of you stay the night.
His eyes flickered over to you. He took a puff of his cigarette, flicking the ashes into a metal pan on the table.
Lucy was just beginning to make her way back down the hallway when she heard her father’s name.
“She’s gonna be our key to get close to Hank MacLean.”
Lucy stopped, her brows furrowing together as she listened more carefully. What were they talking about?
“How do you feel about that, Icy?” Alma asked. There was no answer for a couple seconds.
“I’ve thought about killing her so many times, Alma. I-I lost my Grace and that bastard got to see his little girl grow up—,” You abruptly stopped talking.
Lucy took a step backwards. You had thought about killing her? Lucy couldn’t believe it. You had been so nice to her, so much more concerned about her than the Ghoul was.
***
”How do you feel about that, Icy?”
Your gaze found Alma. You were quiet for a few moments, crossing your arms over your chest.
“I’ve thought about killing her so many times, Alma. I-I lost my Grace and that bastard got to see his little girl grow up and—,” You stopped yourself, shaking your head softly.
Alma watched you, a pitiful look twinkling in her eyes. She knew your story, had heard first hand from you the heartbreak and the horrors that you had had to face.
“But she doesn’t…. She doesn’t know about her father, Alma.” You pulled a chair out at the table and sat down in it. “Her vault believed they would be the ones to repopulate the earth, that they were the chosen ones…. She has no idea that he was instrumental in destroying the world.”
”Well, I’m sure she’s finding things out the hard way.” Alma sighed out.
As she left the room, Cooper tried to follow her, but you stopped him.
“Why won’t you tell me what Lucy said to you, Coop?”
He stopped in his tracks, shoulders falling slack as he let out a heavy breath. He adjusted his hat, tilting the brim down a little more to cover his face as he turned to face you.
“She, uh…. She asked if I loved you.” His voice was quiet.
You looked at him, almost shocked by what he was saying.
“If-If you…” You tried to repeat his words but they got caught in your throat.
In the two decades or more that you knew the ghoul, neither of you had spoken such words to each other. Maybe it was a little ridiculous that it hadn’t happened yet, but to share something so special, so beautiful in a world marred with death and destruction…. It felt wrong. It felt dangerous.
Cooper stood there for a few minutes, watching the wheels turn in your head. What were you going to say? How were you going to react? Now wasn’t the time to be discussing such things. Not in Alma’s kitchen, not while Hank MacLean was still stirring in the front of your mind.
“Why did you get so worked up over the question?” You murmured.
Still, Cooper was silent. He peered out from underneath his hat to meet your gaze.
“I reckon I don’t like her askin’ me questions like that, doll.”
You nodded your head gently. You stood to your feet and closed the space between the two of you. You messed with the lapel of his jacket, fingers gripping the old, worn leather.
“Don’t let that vault dweller get under your skin, old man.” A little smile tugged ever so slightly at the corner of your lips. “You got bigger fish to fry.”
A crooked grin crossed his features. His hand slipped around your waist to draw you closer to him.
“We better get this show on the road.” He dipped his head down to seal a kiss on your lips. You brought your hands up to his shoulder and the side of his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible. His hand on your waist moved around to your lower back, offering you support as he pushed even harder against your lips.
“Careful—,” You tried to speak but his mouth prevented you from doing so. “Easy-Easy…. Cowpoke.”
You pushed him back a little, giggling as he fought against you. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth and then your cheek and your temple.
“You’re kissing me hard enough to leave bruises, old man.”
”Just you wait ‘til we don’t have that vaultie to worry ‘bout.” He finally loosened his grip on you and adjusted his hat. “Bruises will be the least of your worries.”
”Oh, I’m shivering in my boots.” You teased him. “I’m going to go get our little vaultie.”
”You girls need to hurry up. We’re losin’ daylight.”
You slipped around him to go down the hallway and see where Lucy was.
“Are you ready to go, Lucy?” You poked your head into the room she had been staying in. She was in the corner of the room furthest from you, standing rigid with her arms by her side.
Your left eye picked up on her heart beating fast.
“What’s wrong?”
”You’ve thought about killing me?” She whispered.
Your shoulders fell. She had heard you. You let out a sigh, crossing your arms and leaning against the frame of the door.
“Yeah, I have.” You nodded. “Your father has done horrific things, Lucy.”
”No. No he hasn’t.” She firmly shook her head. “My father is a good man.”
”I don’t know how to get you to believe me. Vault-Tec, a company your dad works for, dropped the bombs. They killed so many people, Lucy.”
Still, she didn’t believe you. Her blue eyes stayed on you, brows furrowed together.
“Grief has a way of making you feel certain ways. Part of me has thought about killing you many, many times as a way to get to your father. But I wouldn’t hurt you.”
”I don’t believe you.”
You nodded your head gently.
“Either way, we need to get moving. Cooper’s an impatient man.”
Lucy crossed her arms.
”I’m not going anywhere.”
”You can do this my way— and come with us willingly —or Cooper will come in here and tie you up.” You turned and left the room.
***
For the first hour or so of your walk, none of you spoke.
Part of you felt bad. She had begun to trust you and you knew just how bad it felt to have someone you trusted betray you.
“I had to kill my husband, Lucy.” You spoke, making sure your voice was loud enough to hear from where she walked just ahead of you.
Upon hearing your confession, Lucy stopped walking so that she could fall in line beside you.
“Why?”
”It was just after the bombs dropped. We were barely making it. Everything…. It was so much worse then than it is now. I didn’t know the things I know now…. My husband’s name was Adrian. He, um, was affected by the radiation. No one knew what a ghoul was at that time. We had seen people around us turning, seen what they were capable of. There was no medicine to keep them from going feral…. We were staying at a camp just outside of Anaheim here in California. My husband and I…. We saw a mother who was affected by the radiation attack her own children.”
You paused to take a deep breath. You could still hear the sounds of her hissing and growling, the sound of her tearing her children into pieces.
“Adrian and I decided that we couldn’t stay there any longer. We didn’t know if it was some sort of sickness going around or what but…. We left the camp. A week later, my husband began to get worse. The coughing, the hissing….” Goosebumps rose across your skin as the memories echoed in your head. “He begged me to kill him. He-He didn’t want to hurt me or to hurt Gracie. At that point in time, I hadn’t killed anybody. Hell, I had never even thought about killing anyone. But my Adrian was my first.”
”Icy, I’m so sorry.”
You shook your head, blinking quickly to get rid of the tears in your right eye.
“Shortly after that happened, Vault-Tec found me. They put my girl in a cryochamber and started their little experiments. Took almost everything on my left side. My eye, my arm, my lung, my leg…. All of it is what they called cybernetic. After they were done, they threw me in one of those chambers too.”
”How did you get out?”
You took a deep breath.
“The vault the chambers were being kept in was raided. Me and my daughter barely escaped. That was about twenty years ago, give or take a few.”
“You don’t look that old,”
”Whatever they did to me, it slowed down my aging.”
”And your daughter? What happened to her?”
You bit the inside of your cheek. It took you a while to be able to say it out loud.
”Icy.” Cooper’s raspy voice came from behind you. You came to a stop, eyes dead set on the vast emptiness ahead. “Your heart’s beatin’ too fast.”
He knew you were about to talk your way right into a panic attack.
”I’m okay.” You took a deep breath once, twice, then three times. You needed to regain control of yourself.
“You don’t have to tell me.” Lucy shook her head.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You insisted. “We need to keep moving.”
”We’ll make camp tonight and tomorrow, we should be passing through Bolder some time in the morning.” Cooper looked to Lucy and nodded his head in the direction that the three of you had been walking. “Get movin’, vaultie.”
Lucy gave you one last glance before she started walking.
“Come on, doll.” Cooper reached out to put his hand on your back, offering you support through the small touch.
”Don’t treat me like I’m crazy, Cooper.”
”I ain’t treatin’ you no way. Just don’t want to see you get yourself all worked up. You’ll start hyperventilatin’ and then you won’t be able to breathe right. You’ll fuck yourself up for the rest of the day with that iron lung of yours.”
You said nothing.
***
Later That Night
Cooper stood in the doorway of the rundown shack the three of you were staying the night in. He leaned against the worn wood, a cigarette perched between two fingers while his eyes scanned the Wasteland before him.
It was dark out, but every so often the clouds would part enough for the moon to shine its light over the emptiness.
The Ghoul glanced down, watching the ashes from his cigarette fall to the ground.
Movement behind him made him turn his head. Lucy was awake. She glanced over to him momentarily.
”Can’t sleep.” She said, pushing herself to her feet.
”Welcome to the club.” Cooper placed his cigarette between his lips.
Lucy slipped past the ghoul, who watched her carefully. What was she doing? Surely she wouldn't try to make a run for it, not with him watching her.
Cooper’s hand found the rope hanging on his hip. He was ready to use it if need be, but the Vault Dweller sat down on the side of the hill that led up to the shack.
She pulled her knees loosely to her chest and looked up at the sky.
Cooper took the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing smoke through his nose.
“I never knew the stars could be so pretty.” Lucy commented.
Cooper said nothing, not that she expected him to.
Silence fell between them. The only sound that could be heard was the breeze blowing through the few trees around the shack.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” Lucy apologized.
“Don’t worry about it.” The ghoul muttered.
“How did you meet Icy?”
Cooper finished his cigarette, throwing the end of it onto the ground.
“You just like to yap, don’t you?”
Lucy looked away from him.
He stood there for a few moments, debating on whether or not to entertain the vault dweller.
What the hell.
Cooper moved to sit down, putting plenty of space between himself and Lucy.
“‘Bout twenty years ago, there was a bounty put out for her.”
”What was the bounty for?”
”Didn’t say, but she said it was Vault-Tec. They wanted her back, I reckon, ‘cause of whatever science experiments they were doin’ with her. The bounty notice didn’t say anything about the little girl travelin’ with her.”
”Grace.” Lucy murmured.
“If anyone had gotten their hands on Icy for that bounty…. who knows what would’ve happened to Grace.” Cooper pulled out a carton of cigarettes and took another cigarette out. “So I agreed to help get them across the Wasteland. West of here was a city many considered a refuge. Icy just wanted me to take her and her little girl there.”
Lucy watched as the ghoul’s face lit up as he put the flame of the lighter beneath his cigarette.
“We got a day or so into the trip when we came across this run down dumpster of a place. It was an old trader’s post turned into a little village but the folks who lived there had long since disappeared. What we didn’t know was that a paranoid fella had set up shop. Littered the whole place with traps and trip lines. Grace got ahead of us. Icy saw the line she was about to run into and…. Well, there wasn’t much that could be done after that.”
“Oh my gosh.” Lucy whispered.
Cooper could still feel the way you had gripped him so tight as he shielded you from your daughter.
“I can’t…. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your family like that.”
Cooper flicked his cigarette, shaking his head gently.
“Ain’t a feelin’ I’d wish on my worst enemy, vaultie.”
Lucy looked over to him, eyebrows drawn together just slightly. That was perhaps the first time she had seen something in his eyes that resembled humanity.
Taglist: @green--beanie @mack-attack420 @miniemonie2001 @eykismyfav @fallout-girl219 @msrawog @midwesternwitchery @classaysstuff @keyofgigi @sunnexaltation @ghcstvibess @jayden-okayden @grippleback-galaxy
(I’m so sorry if I missed anyone, and tumblr was being stupid and wouldn’t let me tag a couple of you :()
#fallout#queenxxxsupreme#fallout tv show#the ghoul fallout#the ghoul#cooper Howard the ghoul#cooper Howard#cooper Howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#cooper Howard fic#the ghoul fic
152 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fine. LN- pt 3.
Part. 2 here: https://www.tumblr.com/chgridlock/749389774256848896/fine-ln-pt-2
Y/n and Lando were childhood best friends, an inseparable duo who knew each other’s secrets like the back of their hand. But then came F1. Lando transformed into a playboy prince, his name synonymous with champagne showers and a different model on every arm. Models just like y/n, except for her. Disgusted, she distanced herself, the warmth of their friendship replaced by a biting cold. Y/n, chasing her own dreams, blossomed into a sough-after model, gracing the covers of magazines right under Lando’s nose, well, at least that’s what she assumed. In taught, Lando followed her religiously on social media, a secret admirer hidden behind a facade of arrogante.
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, ex best friends, Lando being a dick sometimes.
As Lando drove away, a whirlwind of emotions churned writhing him. Irritation, concern, guilt, anger - they all battled for dominance, leaving him feeling utterly conflicted. He stole a final glance at your retreating figure, a frown etched on his face. Then, with a sigh, he turned his attention back to the road and pulled away before you reached your home.
He drove off, a forced nonchalance masking the turmoil within. He pretended not to care, the image of your angry face a constant presence in his mind. Just like when you two were kids and he did something to annoy you, he smiled at that image. Then a nagging worry gnawed at him. Did you make it home safely? Did you catch a cold from the relentless rain? He couldn’t shake the concern, a stark contrast to the anger he desperately clung to.
Arriving at his apartment, he parked the car and the silence was deafening. The absence of your bickering, the lack of your sharp retorts, it created a void he hadn’t anticipated. Did he miss you? That can’t be, no. But he couldn’t help but wonder if you were safe and sound, tucked away in your own apartment.
Curiosity, a persistent itch he coulnd’t ignore, finally won over his stubbornness. He picked up his phone, your name pulling him in like a magnet. He hesitated for a moment, the screen glowing accusingly before him. Finally, with a deep breath, he typed out a message:
“Did you get home safely…?”
The message sent, a nervous anticipation settled in his stomach. He knew his words, laced with a grudging concern, wouldn’t erase the sting of his earlier actions, but they were a start, a hesitant bridge built over the chasm he himself had created. Now, all he could do was wait, the silence punctuated only by the rhythmic tap of his thumb against the phone screen, a silent drumbeat of his anxieties.
Your reply, when it finally arrived, was a sharp jab: “I thought you didn’t care?”
Annoyance flared, a predictable reaction to your accusatory tone. Yet, beneath it all, a flicker of something akin to satisfaction flickered. He knew you were safe, and that, for some reason, mattered more than he cared to admit.
He typed out a quickly reply, his fingers moving with uncharacteristic urgency.
“I don’t… but I just wanted to make sure that you got home safe. That’s all.”
He hit send, the simple message carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.
“That’s all,” he muttered to himself, the words barely audible in his head. All he wanted was to know you were okay, right? Nothing more than that, just a guy worrying about a girl he’d known for a long time, a friend. A friend who, in his head, he vehemently denied having any feelings for beyond platonic concern.
But the image of you, soaked to the bone and shivering in the rain, persisted in his mind. It was an image he couldn’t shake, a stark contrast to the annoyance he desperately clung to. A part of him, a traitorous part, yearned to pull you into his arms, to strip off your wet clothes and replace them with the warmth of his own body. To press his lips against your chilled skin, showering her entire body, that precious face, with kisses.
“What? No,” he shot back at the unwelcome thought, his cheeks flushing a faint pink. “Just worry, that’s it, I don’t even like her anymore.”
The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He didn’t like you? The very thought was laughable. You enfuriated him, challenged him, drove him to the brink of madness with your stubbornness. But you also captivated him, your fiery spirit and sharp with a constant source of fascination.
He hated to admit it, but he cared. He cared deeply, and the thought of you being hurt, physically or emotionally, sent a tremor though him. He was a tangled mess of contradictions, a storm of conflicting emotions swirling within him.
And as he waited for your reply, the silence stretched on, thick with unspoken desires and the dawning realization that this tempestuous dance between you was far from over.
Meanwhile, you lay on your couch, your body achy and your head throbbing. The rain-soaked walk home had taken its toll, and you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were coming down with something. A shiver ran down you spine as you sneezed into a tissue, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment.
The weight of your earlier stubbornness settled in like a lead weight. Maybe Lando was right. Maybe I should have swallowed my pride and accepted his help from the beginning. Now, the cold was seeping into your bones, each cough a testament to your foolishness.
A wave of self-loathing washed over you. Why couldn’t admit I was wrong? I mean, he deserves it for being a jerk and change into a man you didn’t even recognize. The image of Lando flashed in your mind, his perfectly tousled curls plastered to his forehead, his strong arms that could have held you safe from the rain, his grey eyes that seemed to see right through you, when he took your hand…
The picture of him behind the wheel of the McLaren, sent a strange pang through you. What is wrong with me? Here I am, miserable and sick, and all i could think about is how good he looked, even when soaked to the bone.
Frustrating bubbled within you. This wasn’t the time to be getting flustered over Lando. You needed to focus on getting better, on kicking this cold that your stubbornness had undoubtedly brought on. But a part of you, a tiny, traitorous part, couldn’t help but linger on the thought of him, his concern, his vulnerability.
Maybe, just maybe, you would send him another message. Not to be difficult, but to see if he was still worried. With a sigh, you decided to answer Lando.
“I feel sick so congratulations your wish came true,” you typed, a hint of sarcasm clinging to your words.
You hit send, the message hanging in the air like a challenge. You waited for his responde, your heart pounding in your chest. Why? A mix of amusement and apprehension bubbled within you.
“Seriously…? Are you really sick or are you just messing with me?”
You couldn’t help but smile at his worry. Despite their earlier argument,you knew that maybe deep down he cared about your well-being. Just like when both of you were kids.
“Do you think I would mess around with that? God,” you replied, exasperation coloring your voice.
Lando’s next message was filled with questions, his worry morphing into panic.
“Can you at least tell me how sick you are? Is it just a cold? Are you coughing?”
Your heart warmed at his concern. You knew you were being difficult, but you couldn’t help but enjoy the attention.
“Are you concerned now? You wished me this,” you pointed out, a flicker of amusement battling with the discomfort in your chest.
Lando groaned, reading your message. He tried to suppress the frustrated noises bubbling up within him.
“Don’t keep reminding me of something that I regret saying…” His fingers flew across the screen, his concern battling with his stubborn pride.
“But for real, how sick are you? Im worried…” He sent the message, the vulnerability in his words a stark contrast to the earlier bravado. He waited for your reply, the silence stretching into an eternity.
As Lando’s phone buzzed with your reply, he eagerly read your message, his heart pounding with a mix of worry and anticipation. “I have a fever I think,” your message finally arrived.
He imagined you curled up on your couch, your body achy and your head throbbing. A pang of guilt shot through him. A sure of protectiveness washed over him, a desire to be there for you, to hold and comfort you.
“How high is your fever?” He typed, his fingers flying across the screen, his concern evident in his hurried words. He felt helpless. His frustration grew with each passing second, the silence stretching into an eternity for your reply.
Finally, your message arrived, a simple “I don’t know…” hanging into the air like a confession of helplessness. Lando’s frustration intensified, his patience wearing thin. “Did you even try to take your temperature?” He asked, his tone laced with a hint of irritation.
“No,” you replied, your single word a testament to her stubbornness or perhaps your lack of self-care. Lando’s frustration bubbled over, threatening to spill into anger. Why you were being so irresponsible?
Lando remembered the countless times throughout their teenage years when she’d stubbornly deny being sick, even when her face was flushed and her body radiating heat. He’d be the one nagging her at school, begging her to go home with him, only to be met with her usual stubborn resistance. “She really is still the same”
He recalled the times he’d ditch his own plans to rush over to their parents house when she was too sick to get out of bed. He was the one who bring you the soup that your mom and him made together for you, he would bring movies and make bad jokes, anything to make you feel better. He’d sit by your bedside, patiently listening to your complaints and watching you drift off to sleep, a small smile playing on his lips.
A pang of longing shot through him as he reminisced about those days. He missed the easy friendship, the unspoken understanding you both shared. He missed being the one you turned to when you were feeling under the weather, the one who knew how to take care of you. He wanted to be there for you, to be the one tucking you into bed, making you laugh, and chasing away the discomfort of your illness. Right now he wished you would just let him take care of you, he wanted to be the hero in your time of need, to show you how much he cared, even if she never admitted it.
He took a deep breath trying to calm himself. He didn’t want to make you feel worse, but he couldn’t help but express his concern. “Do you have any meds?” He asked.
“I don’t think so, I’ll just take a bath,” you responded, your words a wave of exasperation through him.
“You’re just gonna take a bath right now…?“ he typed. He imagined himself there. Carefully helping her into the warm water, his hands brushing against your skin, sending shivers down his own spine. He could almost feel the steam rising, blurring the lines between concern and a simmering desire.
The though of caring for you in such an intimate way, sent a jolt through him. He forced himself to focus on the practicalities. “Fine. Don’t you need to take medicine for that fever…or eat something…?”
“I’ll sleep it’ll pass,” your message read.
“Oh yeah, just go ahead and sleep it off… without taking meds or anything…” he texted sarcastically.
He wanted to yell at you, to shake you until you understood the seriousness of the situation. Why couldn’t you just listen to him like before? “Please, y/n…” he muttered to himself.
He knew pushing you further wouldn’t help. Instead, he typed a more measured responde, “…just take a bath and then go to bed. Just…keep in touch, okay…?”
“Fine,” your reply arrived, a single word that did little to alleviate his worry.
He wanted to bombard you with more questions, to check your temperature, to make sure you were taking care of yourself, to tuck you into bed, to bring you the soup you loved from your mom and make you laugh, just life when you were kids… but the reality was he was trapped in his own apartment, that didn’t exist anymore…
So, he settled for a simple, “Okay… just stay safe. Call me if you need anything…”
With a heavy heart, he typed his final message for the night: “Talk to you later.”
Author’s note: MY LANDO NATION HOW ARE WE FEELING??? Lando’s first win was a dream, my heart wants to explode. I love him so so much and he deserved this so bad. Im so proud of him. Anyways this is part 3, I’m soooooo excited of how this is going. I hope you all like it, also I’m sorry if there’s something bad written, its just English is not my first language and i try not to have any mistakes but sometimes i do, so I’m sorry for that :( ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
Tag list: @persiar9 @mia-rrrs @ssararuffoni @kapsylia @formulaal @sparklysharknerd-blog1 @f1fantasys @landosgirlxoxo @moonclaine @charlesgirl16 Tysm everyone!
#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#Lando Norris x y/n#Lando Norris fic#Lando Norris one shot#Lando Norris smut#Lando Norris x reader#Lando Norris imagine#Lando Norris#McLaren#Lando x reader#Lando#Lando Norris McLaren#ln4#ln4 x reader#Lando Norris angst#f1 x you#f1 fic#fic#fanfic
133 notes
·
View notes
Text
Good Luck, Babe! Part 1 (Ellie Williams, TLOU)
Good Luck, Babe! Part 1 //Ellie Williams, TLOU//
(Inspired by Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan)
@dynsdiary made a post about Ellie x closet!reader Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan and I couldn’t go to sleep without writing it, so this is not super well edited
Word count: 1.2k
CW: Angst, profanities, allusions to sex, internalized homophobia, drinking, not well edited
You had spent another night with Ellie and you slipped out of her bed without waking her up around sunrise like you always do.
The feelings you have for Ellie Williams are undeniably strong, but you won’t let yourself take things further than your sexually explicit kind of love affair. You are straight. “I just needed a little lovin’,” you reassure yourself every time she has you moaning her name.
Even if you were gay, you would never come out of the closet. Certain members of your family, and several of your friends, would exile you. You see how many of the people in town treat Ellie like a pariah, and you know you aren’t strong enough to live like that.
*****
Waiting for your drink at the bar, a mere 12 hours later, you feel an arm slip around your waist. Your head snaps around to see Ellie’s mischievous grin emerald eyes. You push her away from you and hiss “not here Ellie, not in front of these people, not in front of anyone.”
Ellie looks heartbroken, running her hand through her auburn hair and averting her eyes. “You know I cry when you leave without saying goodbye. It’s not fair.” She whispers in distress. That rips your heart in two. Ellie deserves so much better than this but you are too selfish to let her go. “Can we please talk about this?” She begs.
“Fine, but not right now.” You promise her and she looks relieved. You instruct her to find you before she leaves and she bites back a smile before disappearing into the crowd. Thoughts of Ellie consume you for the rest of the night. The loud music isn’t enough to drown it out so you come up with a different plan.
You find the most eligible bachelor in the bar and bet him a kiss if he can beat you at darts, knowing you wouldn’t win. You are more than happy to oblige when one of his objectively attractive friends wants to make the same deal.
Approaching the poker table without any cash, you put in 5 kisses to the winner as your buy in instead of the $5 they were asking for.
About three drinks in, you tell one of your close guy friends that you would finally give him the chance he has always wanted with you. If he could take the most shots in 30 seconds. You know he could out drink you on your best day, and he celebrates his victory with a passionate make out session against the wall in a dark corner. When you finally pull away from him you stumble out of the bar and sit on the curb, you need a little air.
Ellie is the only thing on your mind, she has anchored herself there and held on through every forced kiss. At first you think you are imagining her beautifully familiar laugh. When you look up and see that she is actually there, she rolls her eyes. “You are so cliche.”
“Who cares?” You reply nonchalantly with a smirk and you can see a darkness grown in her eyes as she is overcome by anger.
“What the hell were you doing in there?” She snaps.
You bat your eyes at her the way you always do, hoping it will calm her down. “I’m just having a good time.”
Your flirty disposition does nothing to soften her anger. “Right in front of my face? With this…this thing between us?”
“Ellie I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, there is nothing between us. We are not together. We are nothing,” you remind her.
“You know what, it’s fine.” She spats. “It’s cool. I may be a fool but I know that you know the truth. Make a new excuse, another stupid reason. I know how I feel about you, and I can’t do this anymore.” Ellie turns to walk away and you grab her hand. “I don’t want to call it off!”
“But you don’t want to call it love!” She yells at you.
“Ellie please keep it down, we aren't the only ones out here.”
She obviously doesn’t care. “You can tell me you want that, why can’t you tell me what you really want?!”
You squint your eyes, growing irritable and raising your voice. “I’ve told you what I want, so please, tell me what you think I want.”
“You only wanna be the one that I call “baby”.” Ellie tells you as she kicks a rock.
You stand up. “So what if I like being called “baby” by you? So what if I have feelings I don’t want to admit? That doesn’t mean I’m going to throw my life away. This is just the way I am. I will do whatever it takes to fight the feeling.”
Ellie gets right up in your face. “You can say that’s just the way you are, but do you really think this is a battle you can win? You came onto me. I see the way that you look at me. I’ve heard the sounds you make when I touch you and I’ve listened to you beg for more. Go ahead, you can kiss a hundred boys in bars. I’ve seen the way you cringe away from them.”
“I just get nervous.” You roll your eyes and take a step back. “Nothing a few drinks can’t fix.”
“You’ve had plenty to drink. But feel free to shoot another shot to try to stop the feeling. Eventually you’ll drink yourself to death and that’s the only way you are going to escape.” Ellie has never been so harsh with you and her words hit you like a freight train.
“I would stop the whole world if it meant I could stop this feeling!” You cry out, on the verge of tears.
“That’s not how it works, babe. I can see it all now. You, in the years, with some sad excuse for a husband and a couple of bratty kids. You’ll wake up next to him in the middle of the night and look over at him in disgust. Put your head in your hands and cry because you are nothing more than his wife. You are going to think about me, all of those years ago, and want to sneak out on him while he sleeps, like you always did to me. Oh how the tables will have turned. But you won’t leave. You are too proud to come face to face with I told you so. You know that I would hate to say it, but all I would be able to say is ‘I told you so’.”
The tears start to fall, you can’t hold them back any longer. “Fine Ellie. I’ll admit it. I don’t want to be stuck with some man for the rest of my life.”
She crosses her arms. “I think I’m going to call this off.”
You try to plead with her. “Please don’t do this to me Ellie. I just wanna love someone who calls me ‘baby’. You call me baby. Would you still leave if I called this love?”
“Even if you call it love.”
You literally get down on your knees to beg. “Please Ellie!” You sob pathetically.
She backs away from you, and her face is saying that this hurts her more than it’s hurting you. “Good luck, babe.”
Update: Someone mentioned wanting a happy ending and I had so much fun writing this, so I will be writing a part 2! If you are here for the angst you can end here but a happy ending will be coming soon in part 2!
#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams the last of us#ellie x reader#tlou ellie#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie tlou2#ellie williams#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams angst#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x y/n#ellie x fem reader#ellie x fem!reader#ellie x fem! reader#ellie x you#the last of us ellie#chappell roan#good luck babe#ellie angst
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺
𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯: 𝘓𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦
Rating: T
Pairing: Aether/Dew but also Aether/Everyone
Word Count: 986
Featuring: Some angst and a bad dirty joke or two.
Also could count for "telling stupid jokes" which was the actual day 7 prompt because Dew is Dew and I couldn't resist.
Many thanks to the amazing @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together again.
And to @ghuleh-recs for the divider which I am mildly obsessed with.
It’s worse than he thought. He thought staying would be easy, but it’s clear the moment the buses pull away that it’s leaving that’s the easy part. Staying is agony.
Aether knows he’s made the right choice. That Aeon is ready and the Ministry needs him here and that he and Sunny will be fine.But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
He watches the driveway until the dust settles, and then he turns his back, his pack out of sight, and walks back into the Abbey proper. Sunshine had already gone inside–a meeting with Imperator she said. But Aether thinks maybe she just wanted some time to herself–he doesn’t blame her.
Aether keeps busy for the first couple weeks. Picks up extra shifts at the infirmary. He works most nights. The idea of climbing into an empty bed in the middle of the night makes his chest hurt–it’s easier to do it in the day time when he can imagine that the rest of his pack is going about their day–not gone.
He talks to them on the phone every day. Dew video calls him from the bus after every show. Swiss texts him pictures of all of the weird snacks he buys. Cumulus sends him beautiful landscapes, and little I miss yous. They call call him–he speaks to at least one of them a day, usually more.
The missing goes both ways. But they’re busy. He isn’t. Even with extra shifts, and begging Imperator for things to do–he even offers to help with taxes, which is a huge mistake, he still feels like he’s got too much time to think.
He walks the grounds. Sits at the lake on warm summer days and thinks about how unfair it is that Rain is trapped on a bus and not here floating. He offers to help Sunshine take care of Mountain’s plants, but she waves him off. She’s been given very specific instructions, and one of them is to not let Aether anywhere near the greenhouse.
He and Sunny cling to each other like a lifeline on harder nights. Especially once the rest of their pack has gone overseas and the timezones get more and more ridiculous to manage. They nap together, curled up in swatches of sunlight like cats. Aether wakes up warm, and comfortable, and loved and still feeling like one of his limbs has been removed.
Dew calls him early one morning–before the sun is even up. It’s late wherever he is. Dark. Aether can barely see his face on the video call. Aether sits up in bed and rubs the sleep from his eyes.
“Dew?”
“Shit sorry, timezones. Forgot how early it is there. I can call later–”
“No,” Aether says quickly. Trying to force himself to look more awake. He turns on the light next to his bed. “No. No it’s fine. I’m up. Don’t go.”
There must be something in his voice. A hitch. A tilt in pitch. Because Dew’s mouth pulls down just a little. A tiny frown of worry that Aether wishes he could reach through the screen and smooth away.
“Not going anywhere, Starlight,” Dew promises. His bunk light switches on and Aether can see him better. Sitting up in the corner of his bunk. Phone resting on his knees. He’s eating chips from a bag that looks familiar.
“Are you eating those weird chips Swiss got?”
Dew nods. “I’m the only one who likes them. They’re good weird you know? You’d hate them.”
Aether watches him chew and feels the ache start to ebb, just a little. The same way it always does when he gets one of his packmates to himself for a minute. When things feel unhurried and he can talk to them like they’re sitting next to him instead of a continent away.
“Swiss said they tasted like ass.”
“Probably why I like them,” Dew shrugs. Aether snorts. He smooths his hand over his face, dragging his fingers through the mess of his hair.
“How many more weeks?” Aether asks, can’t help it.
“Three,” Dew answers without hesitation. “Not that I’m counting.”
“I am,” Aether admits.
Dew frowns again, a little deeper. He looks at the screen a little too directly and Aether feels like he’s being seen in a way he isn’t ready for.
“Yeah, Sunshine said you’ve been moping.”
“I haven’t been moping!”
Dew rolls his eyes. “Whatever. But just–you know we miss you too right? Like you’re not just stuck at home missing us while we have this grand adventure. It’s tour. It’s boring and humans are stupid and the food is awful. And it’s not the same without you.”
“Isn’t Aeon doing–”
“Aeon’s fine. He’s good. He’s kicking ass every night but you know that isn’t what I mean. It isn’t all about the music you know.”
Aether’s chest constricts. “I know.”
“Nineteen days,” Dew says after a minute. He rolls the chip bag closed and for a minute that’s all Aether can hear, the ungodly crinkle of whatever magic material chip bags are made out of. “Less than three weeks.”
“You are counting.” Aether teases.
“Of course I’m counting,” Dew counters. “I’ve been counting since the day we left.”
“You love touring.”
“Yup,” Dew agrees, nodding. “I do. I still do. But I love you too, and just because I’m happy to be out here doesn’t mean I also don’t want to be there. I miss my bed. And being able to cook a meal that doesn’t come in a styrofoam cup. And you.”
Aether feels his chest crack open, but this time it feels good. Warm. Like he really can reach out over all of these miles and slide his hand into Dew’s–just for a second.
“You just miss me for my ass,” Aether teases. Awake now, and warm and loved despite his empty bed.
Dew laughs. “Well, I mean, it does taste better than those chips.”
#Comet writes#mushy may 2024#Dewther#Dewdrop/Aether#Aether Ghoul#Dewdrop Ghoul#Ghost fanfiction#ghost fanfic#ghost fic#the band ghost fanfiction#the band ghost fanfic#the band ghost fic#nameless ghoul fanfic
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tales of the Empire Thoughts (Mostly About Barriss)
I know I’m a little late to the party in terms of laying out my thoughts on Tales of the Empire but honestly I needed a few days to process and digest what happened (not to mention being on vacation delayed that process as well). Obviously as a Barriss stan/fanfic writer/blogger y’all know that those episodes were the upmost priority for me and I will be rewatching those episodes on repeat like no other since it’s been far too long since Barriss has had her time to shine.
The majority of this post will be centered around those specific episodes because I’m just gonna just go ahead and say that the Morgan Elsbeth episodes were boring and didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know about the character. Also the bullshit reasoning as to why Morgan doesn’t obviously look Dathomiran is so dumb in that my brain will malfunction if I think about it too much. If the “magic going away” thing was true then how do you explain Merrin and Ventress who still have power and retain their clear Dathomiran appearance? Either way, there is no way Darth Felonious could explain his “logic” to me there because it is all too clear that Morgan was never meant to be Dathomiran in the first place. She was just a bad lady with a spear and that’s that. Love the actress, but the character is just lame. Furthermore, it is so clear that the hat man knows absolutely nothing about Thrawn and I’m not even a Thrawn stan but why even if the guy involved if he just says a few words and leaves? Now before y’all come for me, yes I’m aware these episodes are shorts and the time is precious but to me they could have dedicated more time into explaining to me why Morgan is so loyal to Thrawn. Her reasoning for wanting to join the Empire is empty too in that the Separatists that annihilated her race is now the Empire so…to me that’s not enough reasoning for Morgan to be so dedicated. The only parts that had me engaged were the Grevious bits which were both beautiful and frightening at the same time.
Now onto the meat which is the Barriss arc which has me both elated and frustrated at the same time. Let’s begin with the stuff I absolutely love.
1.) Barriss proving herself to not be committed to the Dark Side/Empire is a huge win for me and other Barriss super fans who have been preaching this for over a decade. We knew from the moment the trailer came out that Barriss was just going to do what it took to survive and even though she was forced into doing things she really did not want to do, she stayed true to herself and escaped before it was too late. The light in her never left nor did it ever leave her and I just know that Luminara would have been so proud of her. Barriss constantly questioning the Grand Inquisitor and the Fourth Sister had me smiling because that is just Barriss. She will always question things that seem off and will defend her beliefs and values no matter what the danger to herself may be. The line of reclaiming her position of a Jedi is my absolute favorite line and gave me all the feels I get whenever Luke tells Palpatine that he is a Jedi like his father. On a final note, I loved that she showed genuine concern/fear for what was happening to the Jedi when Order 66 was happening and demanded an answer.
2.) Barriss being a healer and a protector. It is so satisfying to see it canon on screen that Barriss remains to be a healer after years of being obsessed with the Legends Medstar lore. I absolutely loved that Barriss took off her mask to the terrified boy in the village and protected him against the Fourth Sister’s unnecessary wrath only to save the non-binary (yay representation!) Jedi from death later that day. It all just makes me so happy to get that validation that Barriss has always had a big heart which makes her stand out from other Jedi in my opinion.
3.) Barriss sporting that lesbian pixie cut with the adorable laugh/smile lines and being a healer in the mountains helping Force sensitive and the sick/injured just makes my day. It warms my heart to see Barriss be at peace and doing so much good after so much pain and trauma from her past. Though I do miss her hood and would like to see a head covering on her again. Also doing the math, Barriss should be in her thirties during the third episodes so why did they age her up so much? I’ve heard the theory of the Force healing taking her life force but damn Luminara was in her late thirties during the Clone Wars and she had like nothing 😅 One other note that makes me smile is that Barriss is referred to as a “wise mother” and that’s just everything. Also she looks and acts like just like Luminara they truly could be mother and daughter it’s so sweet 💚💙
4.) Barriss defeating an Inquisitor without a weapon of her own and catching a blade with the Force is so fucking badass, I could re-watch that sequence on repeat forever.
5.)The vague Ahsoka mention had my Barrissoka heart exploding. I demand an animated Barrissoka show immediately.
Now here are the bits that have me frustrated and I demand that Darth Felonious fixes them later.
1.) The lack of closure between Barriss and Ahsoka/Luminara. Barriss hurt a lot of people from her actions but at the very least it would be nice to see her repair the damage she inflicted on the people closest to her. We never saw anything in regards to Luminara’s reaction to the bombing and knowing what gruesome fate awaits her in Rebels, I was so hoping the two would meet again, make amends before Luminara inevitably sacrificed herself as a final act of love and forgiveness for her Padawan. As for Ahsoka…if the two are able to work together in the future, could we at least see how exactly that came to be? I’m personally growing tired of major developments happening off-screen and we as an audience are just expected to roll with it. Again I’m aware these are shorts, but why do they have to be shorts? Why can’t we just delete the boring Morgan episodes and get like a movie or limited series on this exact journey?
2.) The return of yet another ambiguous ending for Barriss. I am a firm believer that Barriss is alive granted that people seem to get stabbed all the time in Star Wars and they get to live so why not Barriss? I understand what they’re doing with Barriss getting through to the Fourth Sister to show us that Barriss has come full circle in her journey from dark to light, however since I’m forced to believe that Barriss had some sort of relationship with this random Inquisitor pre-Empire instead of someone who did have a significant relationship to her, it falls flat for me and it enrages me that if Barriss were to die from this….well I just don’t have words for that. So now I’m wondering if I’m going to have to wait another 10 years to get answers. Thank the Force for fanfic and fanart to get me through.
3.) Does Barriss even know what the Empire did her Master? Because… I feel that’s another huge story thats being missed here. Ahsoka was able to get some closure with Anakin, why can’t Barriss have the same with Luminara?
4.) Never getting anything in terms of what pushed Barriss to bomb the Jedi temple in the first place. That’s my biggest beef with the original Clone Wars series since we see no development as to how Barriss goes from a kind gifted Padawan healer to mastermind of a terror plot. That could a book or show on its own.
5.) Star Wars continuing to miss what a satisfying redemption arc is. Not only do we need to understand what got a character to do the crime(s) but we need to see the growth that comes from it. That’s what makes the Obi-Wan Kenobi show so good to me is that I now know how Obi-Wan grew from RotS to where we meet him in ANH. I would love to see the same for Barriss, because you just know she’s been on very spiritual/emotional journey to get to where she was at the end of the show.
6.) Why was Vader even in this? Given the history Barriss and Anakin share, it is incredible that nothing happened between them post ROTS. And this is like fresh Vader still full of grief and anger by what’s happened so I doubt seeing Barriss even as an Inquisitor initiate would be anymore soothing. I just don’t understand…what a waste. Something more epic and cathartic could have come out of that interaction.
Well I’m done ranting for now, I’m curious to know what your guy’s thoughts are. Otherwise my brain is buzzing with fanfic story ideas and I’ll be getting back on the writing horse as I re-Watch the Barriss episodes into oblivion.
#star wars meta#tales of the empire meta#tales of the empire#tales of the empire spoilers#barriss offee#luminara unduli#anakin skywalker#ahsoka tano#obi wan kenobi#the clone wars#star wars
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Jabberwock, Alice in Wonderland, and Kuroshitsuji
Remember that during season 2 one of the OVAs is about the reinterpretation of Alice in Wonderland?
Once again, another proof that Yana Toboso has taken a cue from Lewis Carroll is the inclusion of this monster we first saw in the drawings of Gregory Violet when she wrote the Public School arc in 2012.
It is the Jabberwock.
After Ciel mentioned the name of Derrick Arden, the four prefects were immediately stunned. For those who read the manga, we know the reason Edgar Redmond, Lawrence Bluewer, Herman Greenhill and Violet suddenly became anxious, angry, afraid upon hearing the name.
Unknown to Ciel, Violet, inspired by this outcome, couldn’t help illustrating the creature off Lewis Carroll’s poem, “Jabberwocky.”
From Episode 4, The Butler, Colluding
There was a book lying near Alice on the table, and while she sat watching the White King (for she was still a little anxious about him, and had the ink all ready to throw over him, in case he fainted again), she turned over the leaves, to find some part that she could read, “—for itʼs all in some language I donʼt know,” she said to herself.
It was like this.
She puzzled over this for some time, but at last a bright thought struck her. “Why, itʼs a Looking-glass book, of course! And if I hold it up to a glass, the words will all go the right way again.”
This was the poem that Alice read.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
It is a nonsense poem where Lewis Carroll used words that didn’t appear in the dictionary.
But in this particular frame, Violet was so full of guilt he wanted the creature to swallow Ciel whole. Or he likened him to the monster. The monster that will bring him and his colleagues/friends down on their knees.
#kuroshitsuji#black butler#sebastian michaelis#ciel phantomhive#yana toboso#cloverworks#jabberwocky#public school arc#alice in wonderland#kuroshitsuji meta#lewis carroll
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
Enemies with Benefits
Part 3
Previous part here
…………………………………………………………………………….
“So, she’s owned and run the place by herself for eight years?”
Walking through the hallway, Tommy replied without turning around as Polly followed him, Arthur and John already waiting for them in Tommy’s office.
“Yep,” he said simply as he entered and made his way to his desk. As he sat down in his chair and lit a cigarette, Polly looked at him.
“Why can’t you just leave the place alone? Poor girl’s poured her heart and soul into the business and you’re gonna take that away from her? Not very admirable, Thomas.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve thought as much and then changed your mind,” Tommy replied as he crossed his ankle over his knee and took a drag from his cigarette. “I’ve got a hunch you’ll feel the same this time around, too.”
Polly gave him a look of exhausted annoyance as she sat in one of the chairs in front of Tommy’s desk.
“Stop being such a self-assured ass for once and think about what you’re doing to this girl,” Polly replied. “Clearly, the place means something to her, and she obviously knows what she’s doing if business is as good as you say it is. Just leave her be. Lord knows we need more women like her running businesses, rather than the lot of you men.”
Tommy smirked as he looked at Polly.
“Since when are you so compassionate, Pol? You were more than eager to swipe up the last two places.”
“Those places were owned by men greedier and more insufferable than you, if that’s even possible. This is different. Think about what you’re taking away from this girl.”
“I won’t be taking anything away from her,” Tommy replied as he stubbed out his cigarette and picked up some papers off his desk. “Simply a change in ownership. She’ll still manage the place. Run it. Make more than enough money.”
“And you think she’ll go along with that after you do what you plan to do?” Polly asked in disbelief.
“She cares about the place too much to walk away,” Tommy answered.
“Exactly, she cares about the place. We don’t need it, Tommy. Just let this one go, yeah?”
“I don’t think he’s gonna do that, Pol,” Arthur cut in, a mischievous smile on his face. “Ownership aside, this girl has caught our Tommy’s attention. He’s interested in more than just her business, though I can’t say I blame him.”
“Me neither,” John chimed in. “Did you see her ass in those pants the other night?”
Arthur snickered at John’s remark, while Tommy shot an icy look over to John, who abruptly stopped smiling before Tommy returned his gaze to Polly.
“Oh, Tommy, don’t try to screw her while you’re screwing her over,” Polly said in sympathy for this woman who she’d not even met.
“If he’s not allowed, can I take a shot?” Arthur spoke up, grinning, but with the same look he’d given John moments before, Tommy silenced him.
“You all make me sick,” Polly said as she stood up from her chair. “For once, can you be admirable businessmen, and gentlemen, and let this one go?”
“A businessman recognizes a good opportunity and seizes it,” Tommy replied as he looked at her.
“A gentleman doesn’t seize an opportunity that hurts good people,” Polly countered. “Consider the latter.”
Then she stood and walked out of his office, feeling bad for this girl, and hoping she could handle Tommy as well as she apparently handled her business.
—————————————————
Looking down at her phone to quickly reply to an email, Y/N raised her head to check her surroundings before crossing the street and making her way down the sidewalk and towards the entrance to the bank. Looking down again, she sent her email and then slipped her phone back into her bag, and as she looked up and took another step, she ran smack into a firm but somewhat forgiving form, and when a pair of arms steadied her, she blinked several times before she pulled away, realizing she’d run into someone.
“Oh, shit! Sorry, I—” but upon seeing who she’d almost collided with, she didn’t finish her sentence.
“Better look alive, love. Not everyone you run into may be as forgiving as me.”
Tommy fucking Shelby.
As Y/N straightened herself and stepped further away from him, she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. This guy spread like a disease.
“God, you’re just everywhere,” she said in exasperation. “What do I have to do to shake you?”
Tommy smiled, finding her frustration extremely amusing. And when he quickly gave her a full once over, his smiled widened. If possible, she seemed to get hotter every time he saw her, and the annoyed look she had didn’t hinder her pretty face in the slightest.
“Don’t be so paranoid,” he responded. “You’re not the only one in town who honors this bank with your business.”
“Don’t you have an entire room in your mansion somewhere that holds all your money? A place where you can just dive into the piles and roll around in the cash?” Y/N said to him.
The smile still hadn’t left Tommy’s face.
“They let me do that here,” he replied. “And this way, they re-stack the coins really neatly for me after I leave.”
Y/N almost laughed, and she tried to cover it up by rolling her eyes, but not before Tommy caught it.
“Are you just stopping in, or do you have a meeting here?” he asked her then.
She narrowed her eyes again, not answering him.
“Just thought I’d offer to buy you lunch afterwards if you’re just stopping in,” Tommy said in response to her expression, raising his hands innocently.
“I think you already know what my answer to that would be, Mr. Shelby.”
“Tommy,” he corrected her.
“We’re not friends,” she reminded him.
“And whose fault is that?” Tommy smirked at her. “Come on, Y/N, you know that eventually we’ll be best mates, so why not just get there faster?”
It was the first time he’d said her name instead of calling her “love”, and Y/N couldn’t decide whether she really liked it or really hated it coming from him.
“I’m not sure where you’re getting that idea from,” she said as she looked at him. “After today, I don’t plan on bumping into you again, so friendship seems pretty unlikely.”
Tommy chuckled.
“Like I told you before, you shouldn’t be too hasty,” he said. “You never know what might bring us together. Perhaps I’ll drop by for another drink sometime soon.”
Rolling her eyes, Y/N began to move again, stepping past him as she walked several more steps and then reached for the handle on the door into the bank. As she pulled it open, she looked back at Tommy over her shoulder.
“You come by again, Mr. Shelby, and you’ll find that all of your drinks will be identical to the one I served you the first time we met.”
Tommy grinned, getting the last word as she walked through the door.
“Well, lucky for both of us, that’s now how I like it,” he said.
@nyxxie-pooh @natalie--rushman @xsweetcatastrophe @febris-amatoria @alltoowellbeneaththemangotree
@beastofburdenxo @allie131313 @meister95 @garrison-girl-08 @hannibellector
@neonpurplestars89-blog @fuseburner @betty21rose @runnning-outof-time @hudson-bay-girl
@ceirinen @devotedlyshadowytheorist
#modern tommy shelby#modern tommy shelby x reader#modern tommy#modern tommy shelby smut#modern peaky blinders#cillian murphy#cillian fic#cillian x fem!reader#cillian murphy smut#18+ only
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
Latency Lingering {F.W}
Chapter I - Same Eyes, Twice Over
Synopsis: just over three years after making the decision to end things with Fred to keep yourself and your new secret(s) from holding him back, you're finally faced with the consequences when you run into Molly and she sees those very same "secrets" for herself.
Suddenly, it seems very unlikely that a life without Fred Weasley in it will remain possible for you.
All the time in the world could not have properly prepared you for this moment.
You weren't entirely convinced, after all, that anyone was supposed to endure the agony of facing a disappointed Molly Weasley head on.
But then, here you were, dual stroller handlebar clenched so tightly in your hands that you feared you might just warp it, doing exactly that.
Had the four years of peace been worth it, you wondered, in exchange for the inevitable chaos that was soon to descend upon you like a long prophesied swarm of locusts set free of the hell from whence they'd come?
Likely not.
But what else could you have done?
You had only been eighteen measly years old, after all, a babe in the grand scheme of things, suddenly thrust into reality as a dull blade might be through flesh and bone.
(Messily, and with a staggering amount of force).
Though, you certainly felt rather unlike the blade in that analogy, and far more so like the flesh...
Nevertheless, you'd persisted. Done what you'd had to in order to preserve your sanity and the livelihood of the man you'd loved.
Perhaps still did, not that it mattered.
Fred was long gone, you had made sure of it that night in the astronomy tower the evening before he and his brother, your once closest friend, had made their daring escape from the hell that had been Hogwarts at that time.
You'd shattered the poor boy's heart after three and a half years of love and adoration, all to preserve his dreams.
Shame you'd done all you could to ensure he'd never know it.
"Please love, I don't understand."
He'd plead, dexterous fingers running through mussed up ginger locks as he paced back and forth about the room you were both stood in.
You'd only just barely resisted the urge to say it was all a joke then, desperate to reach out and feel him one more time, to fix the hairs that had sprung up all about his head as a result of his restless ministrations.
But you hadn't. You couldn't.
Things would be better, you knew, if you just stayed away.
You'd retreated further out of his grasp to keep yourself from holding him not long after the urge had arose. The look in his eyes, pained and confused, was enough to tear your heart in two, though you supposed that it was thirds if you really thought about it.
You would miss George, after all. What was a girl to do without her best friend, especially in times such as these?
"I'm sorry, Fred."
You said resolutely, not feeling nearly as certain as you'd sounded in that moment.
"I just- I can't deal with the distance, nor the strain of it all. There's far too much for me to worry about here, I can't risk stretching myself too thin worrying to death over you and your brother."
That much was true, you supposed, though in the end he'd never really know the half of it. That you couldn't risk stretching yourself too thin because of just how much was about to change, and because it would mean harming another to do so.
You had far more than just yourself to think about now.
In response to your words, your boyfriend stared at you as if you'd grown a second head, beautiful brown eyes wide and teary as he pulled a shaking, uncertain breath in through his parted lips.
"This can't be happening."
He'd whispered, a humorless laugh leaving his mouth and echoing throughout the mostly empty space, nearly making you shudder.
"Merlin Y/n, just last night you were cracking jokes about me taking your surname instead of the other way around. We spoke of a home, domestic dinner parties, Godric, even names for our bloody children!"
He'd exclaimed, hands flying up into their air as you'd watched on sorrowfully, recalling the very conversations he was speaking of.
You'd certainly take his thoughts from them into consideration when you-
"Lords woman, you're wearing a promise ring! This isn't some summer fling you can just toss aside with no warning, we've a whole future planned together!"
He sounded near hysterical now, confusion melding with panic to rob him of reason even in the darkened halls of the astronomy tower, and you'd shuddered to think of what Umbridge would do if she found out the two of you were up there at such an hour.
It was hardly negligible to risk yourself harm anymore, you simply couldn't resolve to allow things to continue any further.
And so, you hadn't.
"Fred, I'm sorry."
You began, lower lip wobbling in a way you hoped he couldn't make out despite the feigned certainty present in your tone.
"But I've made up my mind. We're destined to take life on two very different paths, you and I, and I can't let myself pretend this makes sense for even another moment. I love you far too much to allow this to persist and risk hurting you further."
And with that, you were gone, leaving the love of your life behind to wonder what on earth had gone wrong.
You hadn't seen Fred since then, at least not as far as you were aware, avoiding every event he could possibly turn up at within reason...
Though, avoiding his family, that had proven to be a far more difficult task, particularly whilst you'd been attending Hogwarts with them after the twins had taken their leave, your relationship all but flown away with them.
It turned out though, that pregnancy was easy enough to hide as long as no one looked too close at your poorly maintained glamour charm.
Or, at least it had been for the first few weeks or so...
But then, much to your utter horror (and great surprise) you'd been informed that your darling ex boyfriend had been so kind as to leave you with not just one child to care for in his absence, but two.
It would seem that twins did indeed run in the family.
After that discovery, your glamour charms had taken a lot more effort, focus, and intention.
Graduation, you'd found, could not come soon enough.
And though you had "celebrated" alone, your notably small family wanting little to do with their soon to be teen parent of a daughter, it had felt like your first real victory since your decision to leave Fred had left a gaping hole in the center of your heart.
Perhaps it was possible to keep moving forward after all, if you could make it through several months of schooling at Hogwarts whilst pregnant with twins you would undoubtedly be raising on your own...
Though, truly, not even that could have prepared you for a moment such as this one, because far more than you had ever seen before, Molly Weasley was furious.
She was doing a good enough job of hiding it, but you'd long since learned the meaning of her flaring nostrils, darting gaze, and shifting fingertips, which busied themselves with her wand as casually as she could manage.
You reckoned you were rather lucky she hadn't hexed you yet, judging by how upset she looked.
And, reasonably, you supposed she had every right to be.
After all, it had only been three short years since you had broken her son's heart high up in the astronomy tower at that school you had once so happily called home, yet now you were standing in the same doctor's office waiting room together, one of you with a bruised ankle, and the other with a baby carriage in hand.
And as much as you wished it to be so, it seemed the universe had no intention of switching your positions. It was you with the stroller, and she with the injury, though you were certain you'd be obtaining one soon if the older woman standing before you didn't get the answers she was doubtless looking for.
"Y/n,"
She greeted far too sweetly, her eyebrow twitching ever so slightly below her hairline as her eyes swept over the blanket covered stroller parked in front of you,
"It's lovely to see you. How have you been?"
The question was meant to sound polite, you were sure of it, but the undertone was clear:
"I could have gone my entire life without seeing you again."
It resolved.
"And exactly who did you deem worthy enough to start a family with so soon after breaking Freddie's heart?"
It interrogated.
You scarcely managed to hold back a shudder in response, your smile nervous in spite of your best efforts.
Time had whittled away at your ability to hide how you were feeling, it seemed, since you had last needed to do so during your breakup with Fred.
What a shame, you really could have used that right about now.
"Mrs. Weasley."
You greeted, all but flinching when you nearly said her name instead purely out of habit.
You could scarcely remember the last time you'd had to call the woman by such a formal title, but you supposed you'd lost the right to address her differently the moment you'd thrown Fred's surname back in his face that night in the astronomy tower.
"I've been well. And you?"
Your response was far more submissive to the older woman's intimidation than you'd perhaps intended it to be, but even so, your persistent and undying respect for her won out in the end. It was strange, truly, to consider the woman you'd once very nearly called Mum an enemy.
Molly hummed dismissively in response to your words, brushing off your question with a wave of her hand,
"Oh I've been just the same as always, nothing much to speak of I'm afraid."
She sighed out with faux regret, fixing you with a look of marked interest as she continued,
"But you,"
She said eagerly,
"It would seem that you've been rather busy as of late."
At that, she gestured toward the stroller sat in front of you, and you blanched slightly at the idea of her getting a decent look at its contents.
Molly smiled once more, still far too politely for your comfort,
"Whose the little one, then?"
She coaxed, immediately forcing a short burst of nervous laughter from deep inside your chest.
Once you'd officially regained control of yourself though, you smiled just as politely as she (albeit with an apologetic edge) before replying.
"Little ones, I'm afraid."
You joked, never quite able to stop yourself from trying to make light of a stressful situation.
"Winnifred and Augustine, or, far more popularly, Winnie and August. They're-"
"Twins." Molly finished before you could even get the word out, her eyes widening slightly in surprise, "Yours?"
You nodded slowly, and the woman smiled ever so slightly for the first time since you'd come into view.
"Oh my, my condolences then." She teased, reaching forward to grasp at the blanket that concealed the precious cargo napping away within, doubtless tired after their long day full of bickering back and forth with one another.
She looked up at you then, seemingly unaware of the growing fear in your eyes as you suddenly realized what was about to happen.
"May I?"
She asked, though you could tell from the tone she took that it was far more of a formality than an actual question.
Such was the problem with older women, you'd found - They scarcely seem to bother actually asking your thoughts in regards to them seeing your children.
But this? This certainly could not persist, not if you hoped to-
Without pausing to hear an answer you knew she'd never had any intention of waiting for, Molly Weasley gently tugged at the fabric that had been draped across the front of the carriage, ignoring your nervous sputtering as you tried desperately to find the right words to say.
Unfortunately, they never came.
Forgotten, the blanket that had once hidden your beloved children away from the world fluttered to the ground, and Molly Weasley stared, stock still, at the sight before her.
There, blinking blearily up at the bright lights of the waiting room she was stood in, was a set of twins so familiar that it made her heart skip a beat inside her chest.
Soft ginger hair adorned both of their heads, and delicate freckles far too similar to those she had once threatened to kiss off the faces of her own children decorated their cheeks like stars doubtlessly chock full of constellations just waiting to be found.
But somehow, the feature that caused her the most pause was the eyes of the little ones sitting before her, deep brown and shining in the white overhead lighting of a doctor's office that suddenly felt far too cramped for the feelings she was struggling to maintain control over.
Those eyes bore a striking resemblance to her twins, and somehow even one in particular, one that she knew you were quite familiar with, as things went.
Her gaze darted back up to seek your own, and the moment she found it and saw the overwhelming guilt and fear there, she knew, and her breath caught briefly in her throat.
"Y/n dear,"
She spoke after a few moments of increasingly tense silence, the low chatter of the witches and wizards around you seemingly reduced to nothing as the sound of your own racing heartbeat drowned them out with ease.
Molly reached out to you then, slowly and gingerly, as if you were some wild animal she feared might dart away at any moment.
And truth be told, you very nearly felt like one too, especially as the following question left your almost former mother in law's lips,
"What is their surname?"
And immediately, you shook your head, far too overwhelmed with the situation at hand to handle any of it properly.
Years and years of fleeing in fear of this exact moment had done you no favors in preparing for it, and your shaking hands and tear filled eyes betrayed that fact with an embarrassing level of evidence.
"Oh Molly,"
You begged softly, using the woman's given name for the first time in years,
"Please don't ask me that. I promise you don't want me to say-"
"Winnifred and Augustine Weasley?"
A nurse called out hesitantly to the sea of patients located in the waiting room, her eyes trained briefly on the clipboard in front of her as if to double check her words before she looked back up curiously, gaze sweeping back and forth throughout the space, seeking out the two toddlers scheduled with Dr. Hathaway for the 2:00pm slot.
You felt your heart constrict painfully inside your chest as Molly's hand flew to her mouth, her once so certain fingers trembling as the truth of the matter washed over her like a freezing winter squall.
And, ever the coward when it came to family matters such as this, you were quick to clear your throat, doing your best to hide your red rimmed eyes and tear tracked cheeks before waving your hand slightly to the nurse who was still looking anxiously about the waiting area.
"They're just here. Apologies for the delay, I must have misheard you."
Though, from the positively dread filled look on your face, Molly Weasley could tell you had not.
#Fred Weasley x reader#Fred weasley x reader angst#Fred Weasley fanfics#Fred Weasley angst#Fred Weasley#Harry Potter x Reader#Harry potter x reader angst#Harry potter x reader fanfiction#Harry Potter x reader fics#Harry Potter angst#HP angst#HP fics#fred weasley x reader fic#fred weasley x reader fluff#fred weasley smut#fred weasley x reader smut
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
[for the @calaisreno May Prompt-athalon]
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) 8: hobby
The Baker Street stairwell smells like Angelo's, which is not strange in and of itself, but had definitely not been part of the plan for tonight. Or this week. Or possibly several years until Rosie is old enough to eat marinara without decorating everyone in a ten foot radius.
'There's no red sauce involved,' Sherlock calls as John crests the seventeenth step.
He stops in the doorway, dripping rain onto the wood floor, to stare a little. Sherlock, Rosie, and what looks like every bowl in their possession are spread out on the rug, sat on an ancient quilt John for sure thought he'd chucked out a few months ago. Some of the bowls have food in them. Some do not. The latter are arranged in front of Rosie, which, John realises, meant Sherlock had actually taken cleanup into consideration.
They've come a long way from harpoons & pig's blood, he thinks, a tired smile quirking up his lips.
'Floor picnic?' he ventures, hanging up his damp coat and moving towards them. He leans down, grins, and shakes his head like a dog. Rosie squeals as droplets hit her, delighted, and he straightens, pleased with himself.
Then his gaze moves to Sherlock, who is trying to look above it all but failing. 'Obviously,' the detective says, then he picks up one of the bowls. 'Mozzarella, Rosamund?'
That's a lot of syllables, but she tries, gets out something that sounds passably like 'rella' while stuffing the round piece into her mouth whole.
'Caprese, John?'
John gives a fleeting thought to changing out of his damp work clothes, but it's very much only fleeting. In concession, he toes off his alarmingly practical trainers (that make him feel about a hundred years old but don't leave his knees in pain at the end of a clinic day), then folds down onto the quilt with relief. 'Yes, please.'
He holds his hand out, expecting a fork, but Sherlock's eyes twinkle as he just drops the food into John's palm - cool white cheese, a dewy tomato slice, two beautiful leaves of basil. 'Sherlock, what--'
'Hence the quilt,' Sherlock says as he spoons a little balsamic reduction over the top. 'Now, eat.'
'And you?'
Sherlock rolls his eyes, but does as requested, and as the flavours burst across John's tongue he watches Sherlock's eyes close in enjoyment and thinks, Yes. This is what I want.
'Sherlock,' he starts after taking his last bite. 'What would you say to--'
'Yoo-hoo, Sherlock! Delivery!'
'Excellent!' Sherlock leaps up from the floor (something he can still do easily, damn him), leaving John to corral an exploring toddler. Yes, there is the quilt as a catch-all, but John isn't keen to throw away any food from Angelo's if he can at all help it. Nostalgia aside, it's the best in the city.
Sherlock bursts back into the sitting room with a rather large parcel in his arms. John looks from it to Rosie, then accepts his due. 'I'll just clean up, then, shall I?'
'Leave it,' Sherlock orders. 'There's plenty of room.'
John has his doubts, but scoops up Rosie anyway and meets Sherlock just inside the door, where he's set down the hefty box.
Sherlock has already got his keys in hand, and plunges the sharp end of one across the seam of packing tape with alacrity. 'Let's hope they got it right,' he's saying, mostly to himself, as he pulls open the flaps. 'Yes! Rosamund, look!' he exclaims as he lifts out the contents.
It's a rocking horse. It's simple enough, but when John looks more closely he can see the solid craftsmanship and intricate carvings.
'Sherlock, what--'
'It's a rocking horse, John,' Sherlock sniffs as he sets it on the ground. He indicates for John to put Rosie down, so he does. They watch her waddle the two steps, then brace herself on the toy. She squeaks when it rocks gently under her weight, and John once again wonders how such a tiny human can move him to such strong emotions simply by being alive.
'It's gorgeous, Sherlock. Where--?'
'It's a replica of the one I had as a child. It was lost in the--' He clears his throat. 'I remember it fondly, and my parents were more than happy to find the maker and acquire another.'
John blinks. 'You had your parents--'
'Find the maker, yes, it's not that difficult to understand. Though it's not an exact replica, of course, because it's now the man's granddaughter making them, and--'
'Sherlock,' he says to the man currently showing his daughter how to sit properly on the toy, placing her deliciously chubby hands on the horse's ears and covering them with his own. 'I don't understand.'
'Hardly a surprise,' Sherlock replies, carefully showing Rosie how the rocking movement of the horse works. 'Which part of this is confusing, the construction or the usage?'
'F-- Sod off, okay, you know that's not what I mean. You know what I'm asking is why the he--ck you haven't-- You know. You clearly want this family--' He has to swallow back his heart, which is trying to throw itself off a cliff. 'But you haven't kissed me back.'
Sherlock stills, for just a second, but long enough for Rosie to look up at him with an expression full of objections. And long enough for the bottom to drop out of John's stomach.
'As you're the one with a dearth of experience with men, I assumed it should be up to you to take the leap, as it were,' Sherlock finally replies, like it's the most logical thing in the world.
Which it might be, but-- 'Alright, yeah,' John argues, 'but I did take the leap, if you'll remember.'
Sherlock makes a dismissive noise. He seems determined to remain focused on Rosie. 'Once, in a stressful situation where emotions were riding high and you were grateful I'd kept your daughter from injury.'
John takes a deep breath. 'Right. So. In order for you to reciprocate, it'll have to be, what? A boring Tuesday afternoon when everything is fine?'
Sherlock considers. He actually considers. John feels emotion roiling up and is glad when it comes out as a bark of a laugh. 'You're impossible.'
'So I've been told,' Sherlock replies, and his voice is not completely free of bitterness. When he continues, his voice is thin, stubborn but wiry. 'And it's not that I don't reciprocate, John. It's that I do, and it's enough to render anything less than your full participation an unacceptable outcome.'
Oh, sod-- Fuck it, John thinks, and then he makes himself stop thinking. He folds down to re-join them on the floor, puts a steadying hand on his daughter's back just in case, then uses the other hand to pull Sherlock in until their faces are close enough to smell the risotto.
'Get over yourself,' he says, quiet and firm. 'This is happening.'
And then he closes the distance between them.
[❤️]
#It's gonna be MAY 2024#BBC Sherlock#may prompts 2024#mayprompts2024#My 79yo mom just got her childhood rocking horse back from her brother and is adorable about it#Is why this happened#Second kiss lol#Determined!John Watson
49 notes
·
View notes
Text
werewolf!steve ficlet snippet from last week's wip wednesday poll!
btw, this all started from my tags on this post lmao
Robin chuckles again, lower in volume this time, and he prepares himself for whatever shit he’s gonna get from her about this. Steve asking the subject of his relatively new gay bi panic turned full-blown crush why exactly he’d be into him right to his face has got to be like Christmas coming early to her.
“It’s the whole claiming thing too, alright, don’t get me wrong, but it's also the..” Eddie’s face shifts into embarrassment and his cheeks tinge pink, as if what he’s about to say is the more embarrassing part than the horny biting thing (Steve’s read a few fics in his time too, sue him.), “The Belonging thing. Like, they picked you to be a part of their family, their ‘pack’.” he emphasizes the word with his fingers. “I like the whole chosen family part….” he says, quietly, then his face switches out of embarrassment, going back into confidence in a blink, “But a full-hearted “Yes!” to the whole staking their claim thing. Also definitely that.”
The others groan, the sound morphing into laughter, and Steve thinks he’s off the hook about answering. Until.
“So? Steve?”
Damnit Robin.
“I mean..” Steve’s face burns hot again, the initial flush that had managed to die off coming back full force. “I don’t know about the whole claiming thing, I’m not into biting,”
‘Getting bitten,’ he corrects in his head, ‘Biting, however..’ leaving his mark on someone, the bright red imprints of his teeth standing out against the pale skin of their—the… hypothetically pale skin of their throat (and hypothetical long dark-brown curls too maybe).
He shakes off the thought, “I can definitely understand the family part though, ‘d be nice to be chosen and be chosen forever.”
“See? Exactly! Steve gets it!” Eddie says, grinning and gesturing wildly at him.
Steve’s probably the only one who doesn’t miss the low shuffling sounds of Jonathan and Nancy squirming where they sit.
“The rest of you don’t understand,” Eddie continues on, standing up and turning to walk out of the room. “But believe me, when I find out werewolves are real,” He stops at the back of the armchair Steve’s settled himself in and puts both his hands on Steve’s shoulders, squeezing slightly, “You’ll be the first one I tell, big boy.” He pats the side of Steve’s face with one ringed hand, then turns out the open doorway and down the hall.
“When?” Steve manages to say.
“When!” Eddie calls back, and Steve hears the bathroom door click shut.
“What a goofball,” Nancy says, shaking her head and standing up herself, straightening her shirt and wandering over to Steve’s record player.
Steve can feel Robin vibrating from across the room, so he sighs, stands, and says, “I gotta fix the pool. Bobs, you wanna.?”
“Yeah, I’ll help.” she says, way too excitedly, and follows him past the dining table to the sunroom and out the back sliding door.
As soon as her foot hits the concrete patio, she starts.
“Holy shit!”
“Shhh! Shut up!”
vote here for which fic i should focus on in the next week!!
#wip weekend#wip wednesday#steddie#werewolf!steve#steve harrington#eddie munson#steveddie#eddeve#steve harrington x eddie munson#noelle writes
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wolfstar Microfic: May Prompt 7 - Secret Relationship
Word count: 598 @wolfstarmicrofic
Remus was bored, and cold, and annoyed. His knees were starting to stiffen up, and he’d resorted to tucking his hands into his armpits for warmth, even with his gloves on. He glared at Sirius from behind; the other boy showed no sign of registering the cold, and had instead been peering intently around the corner of the half-timbered cottage for the better part of an hour. The snow that fell in slow, fat flakes and settled across his head and back only seemed to make things colder.
The cottage, while offering limited protection from the midwinter Scottish wind, provided a clear view of the path that led straight into Hogsmeade with the added benefit of hiding them from view entirely. They’d had some early-relationship snogs behind the house, and no one had been the wiser.
With every passing minute, Remus wished he’d been firmer about sticking to his plan: shopping in the village and a Valentine’s drink at the Three Broomsticks. Better yet, he wished they’d stuck to Sirius’s plan: wait for everyone to leave the castle and spend the afternoon in bed. While less romantic, he’d at least have been warm.
He blamed James for missing out on both.
“You really think–” started Remus.
“Shh! He’s coming!” hissed Sirius. Remus tried to school the surprise off his face, as if Sirius could see him and gloat. He leaned over the other boy to look around the corner, nearly groaning in pleasure at the heat radiating from Sirius’s back.
James was walking down the hill quickly, his dark hair and cloak dusted with snowflakes. Even from a distance, Remus could see the fog that clung to his lenses.
“That absolute–”
Sirius shushed him again. Remus grumbled halfheartedly. James had told the rest of the Marauders that he’d get some quality time on the pitch, since it was Valentine’s Day and he insisted he didn’t want to third-wheel any of them. But Sirius claimed he’d seen something shifty in James’s eyes and devised this ludicrous plan. They’d dropped Peter and his date at Madam Puddifoot’s and looped back to keep watch from behind the cottage.
“He’s alone,” Remus said, flatly. Maybe he’d just changed his mind. The conditions were shit for Quidditch, though Remus thought that about most weather and Quidditch.
“Quiet, Moony!”
Remus lowered his chin, speaking directly into Sirius’s ear. He enjoyed the way Sirius shivered beneath him. “No sign of a mysterious date, Pads. Looks like I win this one.”
“Look! It’s Evans!” Sirius startled, nearly breaking Remus’s nose as his head reared back. Remus swore under his breath, eyes snapping to Lily, her red hair vibrant in the grey midafternoon as she emerged from a Hogsmeade sidestreet. She looked around furtively before stepping through the snow towards James. He could feel himself frowning as James veered off the main path towards her. Then his eyebrows rose to the top of his forehead as Lily launched herself into James’s arms and pulled him into a kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“That was no first kiss,” he said, shock keeping his voice low as he watched his two friends press themselves together under the falling snow. Only once they’d disappeared back into the village, retracing Lily’s footsteps, did Sirius pull himself to his full height, turning to face Remus.
“Told you,” Sirius said smugly. “You owe me a galleon.”
“If we head back to the castle, Black,” said Remus, “I’ll give you something better.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow, unfurling a tilted smile. “Yeah?”
Hand in hand, Remus let Sirius pull him back to Hogwarts.
#wolfstar microfic#sirius black#remus lupin#remus lupin and sirius black#help im obsessed#secret relationship#lily evans#james potter#james and lily
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Team ARCZ is... Crazy (Pt.3)
Part 1/Part 2
XXX
"It was here that Cardin knew he was in trouble..."
Cardin's eyes widened as he saw Yang's Semblance activate before him, and he could still feel the heat that burst from her and he was in awe by her glowing fiery hair and her now red eyes.
However, Cardin knew that he was in deep trouble by now, since Yang had said that her Semblance was similar to his own.
Yang glared at him, and in an instant, appeared right in front of him, delivering a powerful blow to his gut that the force instantly caused all the air to leave his body as well as caused some internal bleeding and cracked ribs.
It sent him flying back and skipping across the arena like a stone on water. Once he stopped and landed, Cardin spat up some blood and slowly got up on all fours.
'Shit! She r-really packs a fucking punch!' Cardin thought.
"It was here that Cardin's luck seemed to run out..."
He quickly tried to heal whatever was wrong with his internal wounds but knew that wasn't going to help as he could feel he didn't have much of his aura left, but that was also good news as he knew that after using her Semblance, Yang herself didn't have much either.
Cardin got up as blood dripped down his mouth and yet he had a smile on his face. he looked up at the monitor only to see that while his Aura was at 35%, Yang's was 40%, which meant, he had a chance, even if it was slim.
'I've got a chance!' Cardin thought joyfully. 'I just got to keep pushing it! No stopping! Jaune didn't! Reese didn't! I sure as hell ain't!' Cardin thought.
"...But he can't end on a loss,"
Cardin activated his semblance and set his strength, stamina, into overdrive, and rushed forward, pulling is mace back. Yang saw this incoming and pulled her left fist back, and the two blows clashed, causing a shockwave from the sheer force of the blows.
Yang was confused, 'How is he still so strong?' Yang asked herself.
However, as she was in her own head, she failed to notice Cardin's other hand coming in for a punch, which he landed right right in her face, causing her to stumbled to her left, and Cardin didn't let up as he grabbed his mace with both hands, pulled it back, and swung it right at Yang's end, uppercutting the blonde boxer, and causing her to fly up a little.
'This is crazy! He's still got this much strength!?' Yang cried.
Yang managed to land on her feet, but quickly jumped away, gaining some distance between her and Cardin. When she was far enough, she slammed her foot into the ground, kicking up part of the floor, that flew up in the air, and she pulled her fist back before punching it toward Cardin, which sent it flying dangerously at Cardin.
However, the young man pulled his mace back and struck the piece of flooring like a batter with a ball, sending it back towards Yang, but she moved her head to the side, evading the attack.
Cardin looked at her with a grin before he felt his arms feel severely sore and blood drip from his nose. He staggered forward and felt pain shoot all around his body.
'Damn it! I'm overdoing it! Shit!' He thought with anger. 'At this rate, I won't be able to win!'
Yang saw this and took this moment to blast forward, to end the fight with a single it, knowing she could if she powered enough of her aura and semblance into this next attack.
Not a mere foot away from the mace-wielding teen, she pulled her fist back, but Cardin managed to come out of his thoughts in the nick of time, to see Yang's attack and quickly bent backward just as she threw the punch, narrowly avoiding the blow.
Taking a page out of Jaune's book, he shot his head forward and slammed it right in Yang's face, stunning her and causing her to stagger back.
Cardin then once again, put his entire body into overdrive, and he quickly hit Yang in the face with a quick swipe of his Mace, before he spat more blood out and some more spilled from his eyes.
Yang was shocked by the blood, but that didn't stop Cardin as he went in for another hit, Yang ducked under it, and punched him in the gut again.
The pain in Cardin's stomach doubled, and his mouth filled with blood, but he didn't let it out until he looked at Yanb and spat it out in her face, blinding her.
"AH!" Yang cried as the blood struck her eyes.
Cardin gripped his mace with both hands again, raised his mace up, and struck the brawler over her head, sending her to the ground.
However, that was the straw that broke the camel's back as his entire body finally couldn't handle all the strain Cardin put on it, due to his semblance.
Cardin's eyes rolled into his head and he fell forward unconscious, and as he fell unconscious, Yang slowly got up to her knees and looked up to the ceiling with a smile before she looked back down at him with a wide grin.
"Damn Winchester! You've got some balls on you!" Yang cried with a joyful tone. Yang then looked at the monitor to see that both of their Auras were in the red and seemed to be only one digit apart, with her being at 20% and Cardin being at 19%. "Heh! Ya almost won, but a win's a win!" She said.
However, Yang didn't get up, she just fell onto her back with a smile.
"Cardin may have lost the fight, but he has gained the respect of many others around him, including the Summer Rose herself,"
As Cardin was being carried out by the nurses, Jaune, Reese, and May followed him, praising him as they headed toward the infirmary.
#rwby#rwby meme#rwby guardian ghost au#cardin winchester#yang xiao long#rwby yang xiao long#team arcz#team pays
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
˚₊‧⁺⋆༄
dearest pt.II
first part ˗ˏˋ here ˎˊ˗
pairing: Vamp!Tomas x reader
wc: 7k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, mentions of injuries, blood drinking, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, p in v sex, minor cumplay, -- like tiniest amount, afab!reader, no pronouns or y/n used, pet names used; dear/dearest
a/n; i hope you enjoy it !!! i know this took a while for me to finish and i'm thankful to you all for being so patient !!! <333
MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT
Most of your day is spent being anxious about Tomas’ promise to return tonight, you don’t know what he’s expecting, or if he’s expecting anything at all. Last night… sleeping with him was stupid, he’s not even really Tomas, you mean… he is… but he’s not. What even is his end game here, was it to sleep with you? Does he plan on killing you? And what is your end game? Surely you can’t leave him like this… you don’t want to leave him like this, you miss your Tomas.
The way you’re feeling is getting hazy and the lines are blurring, you’ve grown too attached to someone who isn’t even their original self. How would Tomas feel when he comes back, only to see you left him like that for so long, would he still look at you the way he used to? With kindness and adoration, or would he condemn you and tell you that you’ve broken his trust. These thoughts that plague you are debilitating, whatever you decide to do, you need to do it soon. Maybe you’ll be able to talk to him tonight… or maybe that’s not a great idea.
A knock on your door startles you out of your thoughts, looking to the clock you can see it’s about the time Kuai Liang visits everyday but when you open it, the only person in front of you is Harumi.
“Hi! It’s just me today, Kuai is a little bit busy but I’d like to chat, we’ve not spoken in a while,” she smiles at you, it’s kind but also mildly strained.
You eye her for a few moments, feeling uneasy by her lack of explanation and Kuai’s lack of presence, “…Yeah, uhh… come on in,” you say, stepping off to the side to let her into your home.
She brushes past you and moves to the small dining table, sitting as she asks, “How have you been?”
Lingering awkwardly, you answer, “I have been… fine I guess,” you pass her on the way into the kitchen, “Tea?”
“Yes, thank you,” she fiddles with her fingers against the table and quietly waits for you to return with tea, not speaking again until you’re done in the kitchen and sitting across from her, “I just wanted to come by and check on you, make sure you’re… well,” she blows on her drink, watching you carefully.
“I’ve been fine, not great but nothing has changed since yesterday,” you’re lying through your teeth, you just hope she doesn’t notice.
She has come here for a reason today and you aren’t quite sure what it is but she knows something, you can only hope she doesn’t know about Tomas visiting you nightly. The reactions you’d get from her, from everyone, well, to be quite honest are frightening to think about. You’ve waited so long now and there isn’t any real or good reason as to why – besides the fact that you enjoy Tomas and all of his attention, foolishly, you like him.
This visit is incredibly uncomfortable, you know why you’re uncomfortable but you can’t figure out why she’s uncomfortable. It’s been a good few moments now, of her trying to think of something to say and failing.
Your patience is growing thin and as you sigh, you decide to be blunt, “Has something happened, Harumi? You seem to be worrying about something.”
Her eyes grow wide for a second before she collects herself, “No, nothing has happened… I guess I’m just worried over Tomas, I’m not supposed to tell you… but he’s been moving closer to the village, I’m just a little concerned for you.”
If you hadn’t known her for so long, you’d believe her but she’s still withholding something from you. It is an incredibly good cover though, “I am not worried, I can take care of myself,” you offer in an attempt to ease her nerves, she’s lying but she’s still genuinely concerned for you, you believe that much.
She smiles appreciatively at you but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Thank you,” she murmurs, taking a sip of her drink.
The visit isn’t long, she doesn’t linger like Kuai Liang does, she came to check on you, have a small chat and then she’s out the door. It’s something you value about her, not really being one to linger yourself. It’s not often she drops by on her own though, her solo visit has raised alarm bells in your mind.
You’re on edge for the rest of the day, leg bouncing anytime you try to sit still, too much anxious energy pent up inside you. You can’t focus enough to do anything though, nothing holding your attention long enough to forget about your situation. The day can’t go by slow enough, you want it to hurry up so you can see Tomas and talk to him, maybe he has answers, or will be able to offer you some comfort… wait, since when did you start seeking him for comfort?
˚₊‧⁺⋆༄
Frustratedly, Tomas did not come by last night like he had promised, you waited, even stayed up significantly longer than you usually do, only for him to neglect to visit. It’s not characteristic of him, not when he’s made it an active habit to see you every night for the past few months. For him to suddenly stop out of nowhere, it hurts if you’re honest. It hurts because it feels like he’s gotten what he wanted from you, like he’s lost interest suddenly after fucking you.
Though, it’s suspicious too, especially since Kuai Liang also neglected to come by, sending Harumi in his steed. The lack of communication here is annoying and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to fix it, having to just deal with it whether you want to or not. It’s not like you can ask anyone if they’ve seen Tomas and you certainly can’t ask Kuai, not when he doesn’t even visit.
You’re feeling a little aimless and still on edge, it feels like every muscle in your body is wound tight and like you’re ready to fight back against anything that could give you a mild fright. You can’t sit in your house all day again, you’re going to go stir crazy, you might start bouncing off the walls. Instead of rotting away in your house, you wander around the village, even visiting people you’ve not spoken to in months, not since Tomas’ original disappearance.
It's nice but by the time you’re done, there is a significant amount of day left and you’re still high strung. This is frustrating you to no end, so you choose to go for a walk, not particularly enjoying the thought of it, only hoping it will expend enough energy and that you’ll be too tired to continue to be anxious.
Walking is honestly, annoying, it feels pointless, you know it isn’t and that there are benefits, you just personally feel no benefits from it. You don’t experience the mental clarity; you experience mental irritability. Almost as soon as you start, you want to stop but you’re determined to waste your time, maybe if this irritates you enough, you’ll be too focused on being annoyed to remember everything else.
You can’t be sure how much time passes, but you sure are irritated, instead of forgetting things though, it’s just piling all together. Frustration reaching a new point, you want to scream and kick your legs and have a full-blown tantrum but you just keep going, keep moving forward. You… aren’t used to feeling this uncertain for this long, normally you know what the right thing to do is and maybe if you were being honest with yourself, you’d realise you already know what the right thing to do is but just because it’s the right thing… doesn’t mean it’s easy.
When you finally turn around and head back home, you’re sufficiently tired by the time you walk through the front door. The first thing you do is head for the shower, washing the day away before collapsing onto the couch, it doesn’t take long for sleep to find you. It isn’t intentional but you also don’t really mind, happy that you’re finally exhausted enough to sleep at all.
˚₊‧⁺⋆༄
It’s been a couple more days now and you still haven’t heard from Tomas, at first it mostly hurt and was vaguely concerning, now it’s starting to just feel concerning. You’ve seen Kuai Liang once, he visited yesterday quickly, to check in on you but he seemed… similar to how Harumi was acting, like he knows something that he’s keeping from you. No one is saying anything to you, so you’re taking things into your own hands. Maybe visiting people again and talking to them will result in some kind of gossip, someone has to have seen something helpful.
Being nosey proves to be fruitful, people tell you little tidbits and what you’ve gathered is – Kuai Liang has seemed on edge the past few days, he has recently asked people if they’ve seen anything unusual, and has been searching the nearby land a lot more frequently. You don’t have to be a genius to figure out he’s had some kind of run in with Tomas, whether he actually made contact or only saw him, you have no way of knowing but you know he’s clearly had some kind of confirmation of his proximity to the village and he must have witnessed his presence himself for it to have affected him this much.
Knowing Kuai has seen Tomas is worrisome, you don’t think Kuai will hurt his brother, he believes he can be helped. It’s Tomas who might react more…violently, he’s not adverse to injuring people, he’s grievously hurt some people just to make a point. To completely dismiss the idea of him harming Kuai Liang would be foolish, though it seems Tomas is avoiding him at the moment so you can be thankful for that much, he’s not actively aiming to attack him. Small miracles or whatever, you just hope Tomas comes by soon… you’re worried about him, the hurt you felt has passed, especially since it seems like he’s been avoiding getting too close because of Kuai Liang, at least… that’s what you’re telling yourself, until proven wrong.
The sun has gone down by the time you get home, though it’s not quite late, you just spent a lot of the daylight in the village, you think you’re finding joy in talking with people again. That or you’ve been feeling lonely since you’ve been getting less visitors lately. Brushing off the thought, you commence your nightly routine of showering and cooking dinner for yourself.
It’s not until after dinner that you’re graced by Tomas’ presence, you’re washing up in the kitchen when you hear thumping as he stumbles into your house. It makes you jump, all the noise he makes as he clumsily enters your home.
“Tomas! What the hell? Where have you–” moving closer, you take in the state of him, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m all good,” he smiles at you, “How have you been?”
He looks really tired, “I’ve been…” you frown deeply as you remember how you’ve been, “I’ve been worried! What happened to you for the past few days?”
He looks guilty, well… as guilty as he can manage, “A lot happened, I–”
“–You slept with me and then disappeared for three whole days,” you cross your arms, still eyeing him carefully, concerned.
“Yes, I see how it may look like that,” he scratches the back of his neck.
Your eyes scrutinise him, “It doesn’t just look like that, that is objectively what happened.”
“From your perspective yes, but a lot… a lot happened, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging… I just couldn’t get close enough to see you again,” he sighs, dejectedly.
You cross your arms, sizing him up, “Well, now that you’re here, can you explain what has happened?”
“I can, I just need to sit down or something,” he rubs at his eyes.
There is something definitely wrong with him, he looks exhausted, you don’t think he could look any worse, “…Yeah, just… lay down on the couch, I’ll get some extra blankets.”
“I won’t need them,” he reminds.
You pause, “Maybe not for warmth but the comfort would be nice… right?”
He smiles at you softly, so slight that you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t watch him so closely, “Sure.” You know he’s lying for your sake, but you’ll get him the blankets anyways.
When you come back into the living room, Tomas has made himself comfortable on your couch, you go to give him the blankets and his hand brushes yours as he takes them. You aren’t sure if he’s going to use them or not, but he unfolds one and stretches it out over himself, he’s quite large under the small throw blanket, not that he seems to mind. He uses the other to prop his head up on the arm of the couch, he looks a little ridiculous actually, his feet don’t fit under the throw and his head does not look comfortable like that.
You frown at him but there’s an amused smile ghosting your lips, Tomas looks at you, “What?”
“You look ridiculous… you don’t have to use the blankets if you’re uncomfortable,” you move to sit in the armchair facing him.
He frowns, his tone defensive, “No, I will be using them.”
Lightly huffing an amused breath, you say, “Alright! I’m not stopping you…” You let him settle in some more before asking again, in a polite way, “…What happened, Tomas?”
His eyes flick to yours quickly before looking straight ahead, “I ran into Kuai Liang…after I left yours.
You stay silent, mostly because you’re thinking too many things to be able to pick which question you should ask first and you’re hoping he’ll offer that information on his own. But the silence persists, he just lays there, his eyes closing as he sinks further into your couch.
He must feel your increasingly aggravated staring though because he sighs, “We fought.”
The annoyance you’re feeling towards him increases tenfold, “Why are you withholding? Just tell me everything that happened–”
“–Why?” He glances over to you, smirk plastered on his face, “You worried about me? You care about me, about my safety?”
The urge to roll your eyes is strong but you worry that if you give into that urge now, they’ll permanently be placed at the back of your head by the time this conversation is finished, “More worried about what you may have done.”
He huffs at you, amused by your inability to admit you care for him, “Kuai Liang is fine, I had a feeling if anything happened to him you would get upset so I played defence, I didn’t even hurt him… that bad… I think.”
Your tone is flat, “Are you kidding?”
He blinks at you, “I don’t think so.”
When you saw Kuai he seemed fine, so you’re going to assume if he was hurt, it really wasn’t that bad but that doesn’t mean you’re elated by all of this. In fact, you’d say you’re pretty well on your way to being pissed off right about now, you can feel your eyebrow beginning to twitch.
“Okay, listen… before you get upset, just know I really did try my best to avoid a fight,” he moves to try and sit up but winces as he does, only making it about halfway up.
Frowning, you move over to him, kneeling on the floor, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” his hand holds over his stomach as he continues to sit up, his legs still laying across the length of the couch.
You’re beginning to get exasperated, “Okay… so, am I not worrying about it or are you fine?”
He pinches his brows, “Both.”
He’s frustrating you and he knows it, you tug at his clothes to try and see what may have happened, “Stop being annoying and–”
“–You know…if you wanted me to undress for you, all you had to do was ask,” he throws that smug smile your way and you feel like you might start vibrating with your irritation.
Tugging your hands back, you slump to the floor beside him, “Tomas please– just let me look at you…”
“Listen.” He waits for you to look him in the eyes again before continuing, “When I ran into Kuai we fought and I was focused on not hurting him… he nicked me is all, it really isn’t bad.”
You’re confused, “That was days ago… why aren’t you healed yet?”
He looks away from you, “It’s not important.”
Thinking on it, you realise it’s pretty clear why he’s not healing, “Tomas…”
“I’m fine,” he asserts.
You place your hand on his, “You could be finer though… I can help.”
His voice is firm, “No.”
He’s back to annoying you, “Why not?” You whinge slightly, hand tugging away in your irritation.
He sighs heavily, “You don’t know what you’re offering.”
You don’t appreciate his tone, “I’m fairly certain I do.”
He repeats his previous sentiments with a simple, “You don’t.”
You spell it out for him, to show him you do understand, “I’m offering to help you heal faster by letting you drink my blood, there isn’t much to not get–”
He’s growing frustrated with you now, “–You aren’t understanding the gravity of letting me do that.”
You understand his trepidations, but you want to help, “…Tomas–”
“–What if I can’t control myself? You are literally the last person I’d ever want to hurt…” He’s frowning to himself, agonising over the thought.
Reaching out, you go to touch him on his arm again, attempting to offer comfort but it only makes him tense in response, “I want to help and… I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.” He looks you straight in your eyes, his brow set, tone serious, “You’re not understanding just how good you smell to me,” you have a feeling, that if he could manage it, he’d walk away from you.
His words effect you in a way they probably shouldn’t, at least not in this moment anyways, you push away the feelings swirling in your stomach and refocus, “Let me at least see how bad you’re hurt then.”
The hardness in his eyes softens and he nods, a good choice because you were not about to let this go. He moves to sit on the couch properly, no longer laying across it and you stand to help him undress his upper half. You try to be careful, but he still winces at some movements made, his discomfort more apparent now that he’s not trying to hide it from you. Once you’ve managed to get his layers off, you shuffle to sit beside him and look him over, he lets you get your eyeful.
It's honestly not as bad as you were picturing, still not great, if he were human you’d be running to get your first aid kit, but you know of a quicker and hassle-free way to have this fixed fairly soon.
He must feel how hard you’re thinking because he says, “I’m good, it’s fine.”
“Doesn’t look fine,” you quirk a single brow at him.
He keeps a straight face, “Well…” He looks down at his wound and then back at you, “It is.”
“I don’t want to keep going round like this, you’re being unnecessarily stubborn, let me help or I’ll…” You pause to think of a good threat.
He just smiles smugly at you, waiting for your threat patiently, nodding his head in encouragement.
“I’ll…” You look at him sternly, “I’ll never let you touch me again.”
“Well, that seems like an overreaction,” his expression is still overwhelmingly amused, not taking you seriously at all.
You huff out a sigh and slump slightly, “I just want to help.”
“I know you do,” his hand reaches out to cradle the side of your face, “But it’s not necessary.”
Leaning into his touch, you offer a different perspective, “If the roles were reversed and I was the one who was hurt, would you be so quick to give up your argument and not help?”
“I don’t think that’s the same,” he defends himself, badly.
You go to argue with him, but he predicts that move and instead kisses you, he’s gentle about it, kissing you sweetly for only a moment before pulling back. Frowning, you try to remember what you were going to say, “Tomas… seriously, just bite me.”
He hums at you, “No,” he murmurs, moving in to kiss you again.
You stop him, holding a finger to his lips, “I want you to bite me.”
“You into that sort of thing?” He speaks against your finger.
Choosing to fuck with him, you reply, “Yes.”
He groans at you, “You make everything difficult.”
You drop your finger, “Me!?” You’re shocked by his audacity to accuse you of being difficult when this conversation could’ve ended ages ago.
“Yes, you,” he grumbles out mildly annoyed, before pressing his lips onto yours again, this time less gentle about it all.
His kiss is deep and unapologetic, his tongue licks into your mouth, you moan at his forcefulness. The hand on your face tilts your head so he can have more access to you, his other hand gropes at the fat of your hip, wanting to tug you closer, he wants you in his lap.
Parting from him, you voice concern, “Tomas, I don’t think I should sit on you, right now.”
“I disagree, in fact I think you should always sit on me,” he tries to pull you onto him more.
You place your hands on his shoulders, “No, Tomas, seriously, I’m worried about hurting you–”
“–It’d be worth it,” he smiles but you frown at him, and he drops his smile, instead offering, “It’s fine, you’re not going to hurt me.”
You insist, “I don’t want to risk–”
He gets sick of this back and forth and cuts you off by moving you into his lap with ease, apparently his initial attempts were just for show. “I’m not made of glass,” he leans in close, his lips brushing your cheek, “I could still fuck you stupid.”
Deciding to spin this in your favour, you say, “If you want to do anything more than just kiss me, you’ll have to bite me.”
“I really don’t want to hurt you, dear,” his thumb brushes high on your cheekbone.
“This is my first, final, and only offer, if you want to… go any further tonight, you’ll have to drink from me,” you shrug, playing at indifference despite knowing he’s done an exceptional job at making you wet without trying very hard.
Dropping his hands to your thighs, he shuts his eyes and sighs, his head leaning onto the back of the couch.
Cruelly, you grind your cunt down into his pelvis, hoping to incite some kind of reaction, this is quickly changing from wanting to help heal him, to wanting him to bite you while plowing into you. His response is a deep groan and his fingers gripping your thighs harshly, his dick jerking underneath you.
He opens his eyes to look at you, “You’re not playing fairly.”
Quirking a brow at him, you ask, “Would you?”
“Of course not,” he smiles, leaning up again, “But you know… you’re giving away your intentions.”
You feign ignorance, “I’ve not a clue as to what you’re referring.”
“Keep going, keep rubbing your pretty, little cunt down into me and we’ll see who ends up more affected,” he hums, “But remember… I can smell you,” he moves his lips to the side of your ear, “And dear, you smell divine.”
You don’t move, mostly out of spite, he’s overly confident and there’s good reason for it but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss you off, just a little bit, “I’m not doing a single thing.”
His forehead drops to your shoulder and his hands rub up and down your thighs, a faint humming leaving him in thought. Turning his head to the side, he licks along the expanse of your neck, when he reaches your jaw, he presses a small kiss to it. Trailing his lips back to yours but you turn your head just before he can kiss your lips and he huffs a sigh in response.
“I can’t even kiss you now?” He questions.
You pout, looking away from him, “No.”
Sighing, he asks, “You want me to bite you this bad?”
Turning back to face him, you add, “Please?”
“Fuuck–” his brows pull together in thought for a moment, “Fine.” You go to celebrate your win, but he cuts you off, “But you need to tell me if it hurts, or if you’re dizzy or if you just don’t want me touching you anymore, okay?”
“Okay,” you smile at him.
He looks worried, like he’s still not sure if this is a good idea, “Alright, just… relax for me.”
“I am relaxed,” you reach out with both your hands and cradle his face, “You need to relax,” leaning in, you press a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back and waiting for him to bite you.
He takes a breath, “Kiss me again?”
Moving your hands to his shoulders, you lean in again to kiss him, you mean for it to be quick, but he lightly grabs the side of your neck and pulls you closer, kissing you deeper. His lips are insistent and his free hand gropes at you. His sudden parting from you has a whimper leaving your lips but he’s already trailing his kisses from the corner of your mouth down your cheek, past your jaw, to your neck.
He doesn’t bite you, not straight away, he sucks and licks at your neck first, leaving gentle kisses in between. He nips lightly at your skin, and you stifle a moan at it, not wanting him to know just how aroused you’re getting from the thought of him biting you. The way his mouth quirks against you has you doubting that you’re hiding anything from him though. Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it and instead presses a single peck to your neck.
Pulling back, he looks you in the eyes one last time, wanting to check that you’re absolutely okay with this. When he’s satisfied, he nuzzles into your neck, you move your head to the side, offering him more room. His teeth lightly graze your skin before slowly sinking into your skin, the pain shocks you but dulls as he lathes over the spot with his tongue, licking at your blood.
It’s a new feeling, the ache of his teeth in your skin, it’s making you hazy. Tomas moans into your skin both from the taste and because you’ve begun absentmindedly grinding down into his lap, seeking friction. When he pulls back, he moves to see your reaction, to make sure you’re still okay.
In all honesty, it doesn’t feel like he drank that much from you, “I thought you would take… more.”
“Mmm, I want to bite you elsewhere,” he moves in and continues to lick at the blood left behind.
Seemingly keeping true to his word, he shuffles to move you. He’s careful as he does, laying you down against the couch gently. Getting himself comfortable, he leans over you, a smile prominent on his lips. Your clothes are his next focus, his hands pulling at you. You want to help him but as you rise he places a hand on your chest and lightly pushes you back down.
Arching your back, you make it easier for him to take off your shirt, “Don’t overdo it.”
“Mhm,” he mumbles in mindless agreement, though he’s not really listening now, too busy looking at your tits.
“Tomas.”
His eyes flick to yours, “Sorry dear, what did you say?”
Squinting at him, you repeat, “I said, don’t overdo it.”
“I am fine,” he leans back to show you wear he had been injured, “Look, already healing better.”
It is, it’s still there and looks irritated but the minimal amount of blood he took from you seems to have helped a great deal. It’s less open and for that you’re thankful but it still has to be tender, “Just be careful.”
“Someone might mistake that for you caring about me,” he has a giddy look in his eyes.
Smiling at him, you say, sheepishly, “Well, I might not go that far.”
He hums at you with a slight smile on his face, not believing you. His hands move to your lower half, pulling off your bottoms, your underwear are tugged off along with them. He’s not wasting any time tonight, eager to have you naked underneath him.
Maybe if he were to give you a little time to think, you’d feel more embarrassed about how he’s stripped you bare and pulled your legs apart all within the span of a minute but he’s not giving you that time, he’s already shuffling himself in between your legs. Your legs which have been haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, you could’ve sworn you just told him to be careful.
He trails his lips along your inner thigh, his touch so gentle it makes a shiver run down your spine, “Can I still bite you?”
You feel fuzzy, his words not completely registering when his breath is tickling your inner thigh, “You can do whatever you like.”
A big grin breaks out across his face, you can feel it, you don’t get a chance to correct your statement or make a snarky remark though, he’s already sinking his teeth into the soft expanse of your thigh. You jump slightly but he holds you steady, growls leave him, clearly enjoying this immensely.
When he parts, he licks and sucks at your thigh, not letting your blood go to waste, “Still with me?”
You feel a little hazy still, but you don’t know if that’s from him biting you or the position he’s put you in, he’s so close to your pussy and you want so badly for him to just put his mouth on you–
“–Hey,” his voice cuts off your thoughts and you look down to him, “Are you okay?”
“Mhm, yeah, I’m all good,” your head flops back onto the couch once you’ve answered him.
He sighs, “Mmm, is that so?” His thumbs move to your cunt and spread your lips apart so he can hungrily gaze at you on complete display, “You okay with me leaving you like this?...” His thumb runs through your slick heat, “…Or do you want me to do something to help?”
He places his thumb over your clit, not moving, just keeping steady pressure and it’s driving you insane. You want more, you need him to do more, he’s being purposefully cruel now, he wants it just as bad as you do. He also likes to hear how much you want him though and he’s not going to give you any sort of relief before you do.
On another day, maybe you hold out longer, tease him back, but today you’re all too happy to bend to his will, “Tomas…” His eyes shoot to yours, “I missed you.”
The look in his eyes lower and a huffed breath leaves him, “You play dirty.”
“I wasn’t trying to– ah,” you get cut off by his tongue licking at you, up the length of your cunt.
Genuinely, you were trying to give into him, but you seem to have said something that carried more weight than you expected it too. His tongue drags heavy on your pussy, flicking at your clit just to watch your thighs shake and body twitch. Unconsciously, your thighs go to close around his head, he moves he hands to keep them apart. He doesn’t stop there though, he pulls them open and up, almost folding you half.
His mouth doesn’t leave you, in fact, his tongue enters you, his nose presses into your clit, he’s trying to taste as much of you as he can. The wet slurping sounds he’s making are obscene, the room filled with how he laps at your cunt. He’s getting you close to finishing embarrassingly quickly but just when you think you could cum like this, he pulls his mouth back and bites into your other thigh.
Two of his fingers slip into your cunt just as his teeth puncture your skin, the simultaneous feelings are like a gut punch, you twitch and go to cover your mouth as his thumb reaches your clit and circles it harshly. A loud moan slips from you and is caught by your hands, the resulting sound a muffled cry. You cum around his fingers, your thighs shaking with it, Tomas moans into your skin, feeling your cunt pulse around his fingers and your blood coating his tongue, it has his control slipping.
Retracting his teeth and fingers from you at the same time, he slips the two fingers that were in you into your mouth. You take them, glassy eyes looking at him, your blood stains his mouth now, he was messier about his last bite. Slipping your tongue between his two fingers makes him shiver, the look in his eyes is dumb and sated.
When he pulls his fingers from you, he watches intently as they leave your mouth, he trails them, wet and slick down your chin, neck, sternum, all the way back down to your cunt. You gasp against the sensitive feeling, he pushes them inside you, crooking them up, his thumb already back on your clit.
“I really do love watching you cum,” he mumbles mindlessly. Going to say his name results in a pathetically moaned sound leaving you, it makes him smile deviously, “Trying to say something, dearest?”
You shake your head no at him, huffing out small sounds as his fingers pick up speed, his eyes never leave yours, intent on watching you the whole time, wanting to see every expression you make.
He leans down, free hand holding himself up, “Tell me again.” Your thoughts are garbled, and your eyes get lazy, unfocused, “Stay with me, I want to hear it again – how you missed me.”
You focus back on him, words slurring slightly, “Missed you so much, Tomas– hah.”
His fingers speed up again, his thumb harsh on your clit, you spasm around his fingers, your stomach pulling tight.
“I missed you too,” he smiles at you, his fangs showing through it.
Your back arches against the couch, “I– I was –mmphf– I was worried about you~”
Tomas curses at your confession, his head swimming with affection for you, he pulls his fingers from you suddenly and you whimper at the loss, “No– no, don’t be sad, I just can’t fucking wait any longer.”
The overwhelming need for you has overpowered him, he’s shucking his pants down his thighs carelessly. Pulling his cock out and immediately guiding it to your cunt, he slips the head of it through your folds a few times before slowly entering you. He’s trying to take his time and be gentle, he really is but he’s so suddenly desperate to be balls deep he can’t seem to find the patience to open you up for him more.
He makes it easier for you though, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit. It’s completely unexpected when you cum on the first few inches of his cock like this, a bitten back moan leaving you as shudders run through you. He had gotten you so close before retracting his fingers, the fullness now and way he was playing with you had your forgotten orgasm being not so forgotten.
“Tomas– it’s –ah–” You can’t even get out what you want to say, though you’re not entirely sure what you wanted to say. Cumming on his dick makes you go cross eyed, your hips moving to grind up into him, wanting so badly to be stuffed full as you orgasm.
He grunts out, “Fuck–” before taking advantage of your gushing pussy and slips balls deep, a loud and deep moan leaving him, “So incredibly slick, my dear,” he grinds down into you, his pelvis digging into your clit, he’s trying to give you a moment to breathe but he desires friction. “You never cease to amaze me, so incredibly perfect… responsive.”
Ironically, your cunt twitches at his words and a devilish smirk makes an appearance on his face, as if to gloat about his previously accurate statement, “I don’t know… if I can handle another,” your eyes are wet and unthinking when you look up at him.
“You can handle another,” he groans, dragging his cock out at the same time as he speaks, “Been so good to me tonight, I’m just returning the favour.”
He slams back into you, a high-pitched whine leaving you, matched against his low one, “I jus wanted to help –mmph–”
“And help you did, so incredibly helpful,” his words are coming quickly as he starts thrusting into you more consistently, “Taste absolutely divine, dear. Few moments there –ngh– I was scared of hurting you, you’re such an overwhelming presence in all facets of my life.”
Lewd and wet slapping sounds follow each of his thrusts, his hips fucking into you at a speed that makes your head spin. You’re not really capable of responding to him anymore, you’re as good as gone. His cock hits so deep inside you, he tickles your cervix, a thrilling kind of pain following each of his deep thrusts.
“You wanna know something?” He leans in, getting impossibly closer, deeper.
He’s waiting for your response, “Yeah– hah– mmph~”
He engulfs your mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue in your mouth before you can really register that he’s kissed you. He’s heated and rushed; kissing you in such a needy way that you can’t even keep up with him. When he pulls back a string of saliva connects the both of your mouths, he licks his lower lip, disconnecting it.
“I could smell how fucking wet you were getting each time I bit you,” he huffs breathlessly into your ear, “Fresh arousal drenching your cunt every time my teeth sunk into you, do you know how hard it is to focus on not taking much blood from you when you’re getting horny from it?”
“S–sorry,” you apologise but your pussy clenches down on him, his words working you up.
“No, don’t apologise, dear. You did nothing wrong, nothing.” He traces wet and sloppy kisses down the side of your face and neck, “I just meant to say, I think you would cum awful hard if I were to bite you at the same time, don’t you?”
Before you can comprehend the conclusion he’s given you, his hips switch from slamming into you, to grinding when he re-enters, the added stimulation makes you stupid, slurred words of praise and his name leaving you. Just as you’re about to climax, he bites into your neck, he doesn’t drink from you this time, he just sinks his teeth into your flesh. The pain rockets through you and you finish all over his cock, fresh, creamy, cum leaving you and leaking down his dick, a white ring left at the base of it.
The sound he makes is feral and not human, deep animalistic groans leaving him at the way you squeeze his dick so tight. He forces his way through all the sensations he’s feeling, fucking into your tight, spasming cunt, the slick of you making it easier. You’re so fucked open on him that he’s getting dizzy thinking about it, about how well you take his fat cock.
Raising his upper half, he looks down to where he’s fucking you, at the mess you’ve made, at the bite marks on your thighs, it’s all driving him wild. There’s very clear evidence of him being here and it’s sending pleasure down his spine to his core.
His dick jerks and twitches and as he looks at your face, at the gooey look in your eyes, at the unshed tears sitting in your waterline, he cums. It forces its way through him, the sensation almost making him spiral, he’s already cumming when he remembers what he wanted to do.
Pulling out, he aims the rest of his cum at your cunt and thighs, wanting to leave evidence of him all over you. He almost whimpers at the sight of your pussy leaking and being coated in him. Absently, he takes his hand and places it in his spend, smearing it up your stomach and grabbing your tit, leaving evidence of it there too.
You gasp at how he grabs at your breast, his slick forefinger and thumb tweaking your nipple, “Tomas–” You moan out to him.
His eyes shoot to yours and he looks sheepish, “Sorry…I got carried away.”
Mumbling lazily, you ask, “Are you okay?”
He bites a laugh at your question, “Are you kidding? I feel fantastic.” He moves in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, “How do you feel? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay…tired,” you wrap your arms around him, pulling him down into you for a hug.
He breathes in the scent of you, committing it to memory, “You should sleep, I’ll carry you to bed–”
You object, cutting him off, “–No… you’ll be gone when I wake up, I really did miss you…”
He can’t hide the way your words make him glow with joy, “How about, we shower and see how you feel?”
“Mmmkay, you’re gonna need to do all the work though…” He’s already picking you up off the couch halfway through your sentence, “…Don’t think I can walk.”
“Wasn’t expecting you to,” he chuckles, carrying you off down the hallway.
˚₊‧⁺⋆༄
IT IS DONE !!!!!! MWUAHAHA!!! i hope you enjoyed it :3
#tomas x reader#tomas x reader smut#tomas x you#tomas x you smut#tomas vrbada x reader smut#tomas vrbada smut#tomas vrbada x reader#smoke x reader#smoke x reader smut#smoke smut
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
I wrote in this post about which characters I think they should focus on and develop in the different pjo seasons, but I was thinking about Annabeth and her dream of being an architect and building something permanent, and how they didn't really introduce it in season 1. I think it's a really important and complex piece of her character, a dream that draws on her past traumas and hubris, and I think that it fits in really well with the plot of som, so here are my thoughts on how they can and should include it in season 2. This, of course, requires Percy and Annabeth to have been friends for a full year without her mentioning it, which I don't think is particularly realistic, but they need to introduce it for viewers who were not readers.
One option would be to save it for the Siren Scene, and their discussion of fatal flaws. In the book, Percy sees what Annabeth envisions, including a redesigned New York/Olympus, which he knows she must have designed because he already knows she likes architecture. They could, in the show, have this be where that dream is introduced, having Percy see her vision and then Annabeth explain that she wants to be an architect/build something permanent, and probably touch on some of her childhood trauma more (in terms of her relationship with her parents/their relationship with each other, specifically). I personally don't prefer this option, I think because it requires casting her parents but also because there is an intimacy required of her choosing to tell it to Percy that would help to develop their relationship further, so I would personally choose to deviate from the book here. However, including the vision would help to show viewers her dreams in a way that the show has not been particularly good at yet.
The second option (this is my preferred one) would be to include it at the beginning of the season, when they arrive at camp after being told not to come back. In this version of grounding Annabeth's architecture/permanence dream, it would be introduced through seeing destruction/change around camp, and a conversation about how camp has always been something stable/permanent for her. It could happen in their conversation with Chiron as he is leaving, as he has been a big part of that for her and could tell Percy that Annabeth has always needed/wanted something stable, but I think it would need a conversation (crying on the beach?) between Percy and Annabeth where Annabeth tells him about her dream to be an architect herself. Again, I think Annabeth making that choice to be vulnerable with Percy is important to developing their relationship--I think season 1 had a lot of Percy being vulnerable, particularly around his mom and also being so new to everything, and would like to see Annabeth choose to be vulnerable with Percy in season 2.
A third option would be some version of reading the email from Annabeth about her trip with her dad, where she could talk about the architectural features she saw at Disney, the ways the castle is the same/different from the German castle it's modeled on, or how cool the windows were on their hotel, or idk I haven't been to Disney but I think there's like a history attraction maybe she writes about that. Anyway, maybe they do the Annabeth voice-over or Percy just reads it aloud to his mom (or Sally reads it to Percy, since he's dyslexic), and she can mention architecture and how she wants to build something like that one day. Or maybe Sally reads all of Annabeth's excitement about the buildings and asks Percy about it, and he says "she wants to be an architect and build something that'll last forever," which would imply that she did mention that last summer (so that would be nice). This doesn't directly include Annabeth, so the characterization is a little less poignant, but it would cover the bases.
That's what I've come up with for now at least. Maybe there are more options? I don't know, I just think they need to explicitly say it, because I think it's so important to understanding who Annabeth is (plus there are like actual plot points later where she's rewarded with getting to achieve her dreams and that's so significant)
#percy jackson#pjo#percy series#annabeth chase#annabeth the architect#sea of monsters#pjo som#pjo sea of monsters#pjo season 2#pjo season 2 spoilers#pjo spoilers#pjo tv show#percy jackson spoilers#percy jackson tv show#percy jackon and the olympians#&thoughts#percabeth
24 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
sangyeonew
sangyeonew
coldcopscissorsmoney
Untitled
alunasky-blog
Alunasky
theauthorfiles-blog
The Author Files
anaide-c
Anaide Chirinian