#i will never get my lighting this good ever again
Note
i would absolutely love a Hotch and stripper reader, him taking care of her after some kind of incident at her club or something? maybe a bit of angry hotch at the beginning, some angst? 💗💗💗
Your throat burns by the time his car pulls up.
You take the butt of the cigarette from between your lips and ash it next to the first. Your hand is sore between the index finger and thumb from a bad stretch, aching as you press into your pocket for your stolen box of Marlboro golds. You’ll apologise for taking them some other time.
You press the third between your lips and flick the lighter. You’re not good at lighting them, worse at the first inhale, your throat an agony that rivals the sting of your battered cheek.
Shoes on the sidewalk, a scratch of loose gravel. Your eyes well with another line of tears that you work hard to hold in, taking another quick, cruel drag. They don’t make cigarettes long enough, in your opinion. They don’t last.
He stops in front of you. Quiet, Agent Hotchner looks down at you where you’re sitting on the low wall, expression as steely as ever. You meet his eyes, worried your wobbly lip is giving you away, not sure calling him was the right thing to do after all.
When he raises his hand to the cigarette you let him take it. His fingers wrap carefully around the butt of it, the side of his thumb brushing your lips.
He flicks it to the ground and steps on it flat.
You don’t say hello. It’s obvious you’ll cry, he can tell too, and he doesn’t make you. You wince as he raises his hand again, your eyes squinting closed, but he isn’t going to hurt you. His palm is warm where it cups your cheek, turning your face to the light emanating off of the club neons.
“Do you know his name?” he asks.
“No.”
He raises your chin higher still. His frown turns to a glare, the brunt of which is directed elsewhere but intimidating all the same. His touching is gentle at least.
“What happened?”
“I told him no.”
His jaw ticks. “Can I take you home?”
You sniffle, turning your face out of his hand and down to your lap. He’s kissed you, he’s done more than that, but he knows you’d felt like you had no choice and so he’s giving it to you now. It’s exactly why you’d called him. It’s the man he is, and he should never have ended up looking after you.
“Sorry I called you,” you say, hiding your face in one hand. Pain flickers behind your eyes as tears mount for the tenth time tonight.
Hotch gives a sigh, sitting on the wall beside you. He wraps his arm behind your back and with a familiarity you need desperately. You press yourself into his side, sew your arm hesitantly over his stomach, the starch of a pressed shirt crisp on your clammy skin.
“It’s cold out here,” he murmurs, bringing both hands to your arm, one to hold you tight, the other to rub your cool skin.
“I think I want to quit.”
He nods into the side of your head. “I think you should,” he says, “if that’s what you want… honey, you can do whatever you want.”
“I don’t think I can. I’m trapped and it’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault.” He encourages your head under his, your face to his neck. When he talks, it’s a quiet, lulling promise. “You’re not trapped. I’ll do anything you need me to do. If you want an apartment, I’ll get it for you. If you want to shut this place down, I will. The last thing either of us want is for you to work here when you don’t want to.”
“You don’t have to say work here like I’m not a glorified prostitute,” you say hotly, anger turned in rather than out.
“You don’t really think that.”
Being a sex worker is complicated. You don’t know how you feel about it, and you can’t ever understand why Hotch would bother with you. You’d worried at first that your vulnerability is what attracted him, like a kid with a broken bird, but he’s proved a hundred times that your job is pretty much separate from why he likes you. He thinks you're pretty. He loves your voice. You make each other laugh, and somehow inexplicably he’s the first person you call when things go wrong.
“Quit your job,” he says. “Even if it’s just to dance somewhere else.”
“You can say strip.”
He nods. “You shouldn’t have to worry whether your ‘no’ will be met with a backhand. You know that breaks my heart?”
You blink and pull away from him. He isn’t unemotional, but it’s a surprise nonetheless to hear him talk like this. “Aaron–”
“Please,” he says. “I shouldn’t ask you to. But there are better places for you. You deserve more.”
If it were anyone else you might get defensive. Only people who do your job could understand why you do it, it’s a hundred different things to you, but you do deserve more. You’re sick of leery men, sick of wolf whistles and bad tips and other people's hands. Hotch has never asked you to stop, but now he is, it’s to keep you safe.
You can’t begrudge him.
“I’m sorry,” you say.
“No.” He rubs your arm. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. And I’ll make it right.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I’ll make it right,” he promises. “No matter what. No one gets to hurt you.”
You could quit. You want to. Even if it’s just for a couple of weeks, just so you don’t have to pretend you know what you’re doing. You’ll think about it in the morning. “Could I stay with you for a bit?” you whisper. “Just tonight. Please.”
Hotch taps your back for you to stand. He stands with you, brushing down your coat, his eyes impassive where they look over your face, your purpling bruise.
“You can wait in the car,” he says quietly. “I’m going to ask a few questions inside before we leave.”
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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it’s well past two in the morning when all your guests have left, and it’s just you and jeonghan and some cardboard boxes.
the two of you are taping the last of his boxes shut, a movie you’ve seen a million times playing on the television, both of you talking and laughing over it. the party has just died down — yours and jeonghan’s farewell party.
he’d said it sounded too dramatic, when you first brought it up. because neither of you were going far. you to your new studio apartment and jeonghan moving in with seungkwan, now that the lease was up and the owner wasn’t planning to renew it. jeonghan had dubbed it the “house-cooling” party instead, the opposite of housewarming — the kind of stupid joke he only makes to you.
still, though, as you sit among the boxes and leftover pizza, you feel kind of — wistful. when you say as much, jeonghan laughs, reaching over to tap under your chin fondly.
“wistful?” he repeats, smiling.
you huff at him. “i’m going to miss you, that’s what i’m saying, you ass.”
“i’m not going far,” he reminds you. “we’re literally within twenty minutes of each other. fifteen on a good day.”
“still!”
“i’ll visit you all the time. i’ll get tired of seungkwan doing karaoke. and then we’ll basically be roommates again, because he doesn’t stop doing karaoke.”
jeonghan’s tone is light and easy, but you can’t help wondering why the two of you aren’t going to be roommates again. why you hadn’t looked for an apartment together. neither of you had brought it up, things just fell this way, and all of a sudden you’re thinking about how jeonghan always moves your washing to the dryer for you and how much you’re going to miss him.
because you really are — not just because of laundry. you guys were roommates before you became actually close, brought together by mutual friends; you’ve never known a jeonghan that wasn’t jeonghan, my roommate, and suddenly it feels a little like losing him. because suddenly you love him, and not in a jeonghan, my roommate way. not in a jeonghan, my friend way either — in a way that puts aches in your chest, has your ribs living up to their name, acting a cage for your heart. you’re not sure how long it’s been, but it’s been long enough.
you’d been clinging to the hope that it would pass; everyone knows you don’t date your roommate. but now — now he’s not your roommate, and it hasn’t passed, and you don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing anymore.
on one hand: you could tell him. bare it all out, in the open, raw and bloody and unfettered. on the other hand: there are so many things you would rather do than experience rejection. you’d be able to take just being his roommate if you needed to. could’ve held out until it passed.
“maybe we should’ve moved in together again,” you voice, forcing your voice light and airy and casual, playing it like a random off-hand suggestion.
jeonghan’s vehement shake of the head is surprising, and it stings. more than you expected. “no.”
you can quite literally feel your face fall, staring at him without pretence. “what?”
he looks up from the box he’s packing, an uncharacteristic seriousness in his brown eyes. “ask me why,” he instructs softly.
you swallow thickly. it’s hard not to, when he’s looking at you like that — warm and familiar and intense and scary, all at once. your eyes follow the strand of dark hair that falls over his forehead, suddenly realising just how close he is. “why?”
jeonghan sets down the tape, tilting his head to the side, choosing his words slowly, carefully. “because if i ever ask you to move in with me again, it’ll be very different to this. can you pass me the scissors?”
you barely even hear the last part. “different? different how?”
“just… different.” he shrugs, reaching over you for the scissors himself. “you’ll be dating me, for one thing.”
time seems to come to a halt when he says those words, and you barely manage a whisper — “what?”
jeonghan rolls his eyes and pokes your forehead. “i’m trying to say i’m in love with you, dipshit. can you please take a hint?”
you malfunction. it’s late and your brain is already fried enough from finals and he’s staring at you, and this isn’t a dream, this is real.
and so you launch your roll of tape in his direction.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?”
jeonghan doesn’t even need to dodge the tape, but still gapes at you. “what?”
“you can’t— just drop a love confession like a — like a hot potato, and then expect me to catch it!”
“a hot potato?” he repeats, and then he’s biting down on a laugh, shoulders shaking. “did you just call my love confession a fucking hot potato?”
“no! yes, well — ” you flounder, confused in your embarrassment. “oh my god. you’re so mean. i wasn’t ready.”
jeonghan’s still laughing. “if i’d warned you in advance, what would you have answered?”
and now it’s your turn to stare him down: “you didn’t ask anything yet. what am i supposed to answer?”
that only tilts jeonghan’s smile further upward, and he scoots closer, leaning on one arm. you can smell him, soft and fresh and so incredibly near, as he speaks — “you’re smart. i think you can work it out.”
you kiss him first. quick and sweet, over and over. you think it’s probably answer enough.
also in my head this is the same couple from this drabble but they can be read separately
an / hana comeback era ⁉️ this is just something i wrote super quick but HIII it’s been almost 2 months since i posted some writing 😭 i’m so sorry this awful piece is the first thing u guys get, hopefully will write something better soon!
perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura @dokyeomkyeom
#jeonghan fluff#jeonghan x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen fic#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#jeonghan imagines#jeonghan comfort#jeonghan fic#jeonghan fanfic#jeonghan x y/n#jeonghan scenarios
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We Have Now
Pairing: Nika Mühl x Reader
Warnings: lil bit of angst, suggestive content
Summary: The season is over, the seniors have graduated and the summer has begun. The future holds a lot of uncertainty, but your feelings for Nika have never been uncertain. Is it too late for you?
A/n: I just can’t resist summer themed fics. Also I’m ngl this is NOTT my best work so I’m sorry for that… enjoy anyways.
“Holy shit!”
Through the window of your bedroom you can see the sunset has turned outside an entrancing mix of tropical colours. Pink, purple, orange and yellow mix in the clouds and paint the world around you for a moment, and you know you need to see it up close.
You rush down the stairs and past the living room, where the rest of the team is sleeping on the couch with a movie on in the background.
It had been a long day for everyone, the team had planned to spend a couple days of July at an airbnb in Rhode Island back in February, and the plan thankfully took off.
The day had been filled with a long car ride, various TikToks, loud music, unpacking, swimming and barbecuing. Everyone was exhausted.
When you rush out to the deck you’re encapsulated by the scenery. Sunsets were beautiful, but even better by the beach. The white sand and deep ocean water against the rich setting sky was something out of a book.
After taking about a hundred photos and videos, you put your phone away and just stood in astonishment.
Playing basketball with these girls at Uconn was one of the biggest blessings you’d ever received in your life, and you were going to miss them so much. You often found yourself swimming in old memories at night, memories of locker room conversations, late night drives, shared playlists, loud Friday night parties, shared looks, useless yearning and post game tears.
You’d already gone through your sad feelings at graduation though, and the draft had brought some more light to the situation. You had no regrets whatsoever about your college career, except for maybe one thing. And that thing was on the beach right now.
Nika was laying on the sand, just far enough from the ocean to avoid getting hit by the high tide. She didn’t say anything when you laid down beside her, the both of you just stared at the darkening sky as the sound of waves filled the silence.
“Remember how different things were when we first met?” You finally say after some time.
Nika quietly laughs. “How could I forget?”
You roll your eyes playfully. “Gosh, I thought you were so weird.”
“You were weirder.” She grumbles.
“You just thought all Americans were weird.”
“Because you guys are! I never saw so many overly confident basketball players who were so bad till’ I came here.”
The two of you laugh together for a moment, then it’s quiet again.
Your hand is excruciatingly close to hers, but neither of you move closer.
“Everything’s so different now.” Nika mumbles, almost to herself.
You turn your head to face her. Nika’s side profile is strong, prominent nose, perfect lips, sharp eyebrows and expressive eyes. Her cheeks are pink from being out in the sun. You have the urge to make them pinker, but you shake the thought away.
“Yeah. Everything is different…but that’s a good thing”
Nika nods solemnly, but you can tell she’s thinking hard.
“Niks, don’t worry too much okay? Things work out if they’re meant to.”
She brings a hand to her face, covering her eyes and muffling her voice, which slightly wavers when she says. “What if I don’t make it?”
With this you give in and take her hand, squeezing it tight for a moment.
“Baby they’re lucky to have you. One day with you and they’ll know you’re needed on that team. Everyone else knows it for sure.”
“Says who?” Her eyebrows furrow. “I can’t just assume this’ll work out. What if it doesn’t? What the fuck do I do then? All my work will have been for nothing.”
“If Seattle doesn’t see you as an asset to their team, then I assure you there’ll be another team just waiting for you. Everyone here knows how valuable you are as a player, and the internet wouldn’t let anyone forget.”
She isn’t very convinced, but she turns her head to meet your gaze. Her eyes remind you of a puppies eyes. “Thank you.” She says, sincere and slightly embarrassed. Her hand is still in yours and your noses are almost touching. You wonder if she’d ever talk to you again if you kissed her.
At the thought of that, your stomach sinks. You sit up suddenly, hand breaking from hers. You don’t see how her face drops when you do it.
“I-“ you start, but hesitate. You didn’t want to regret anything like this again. You wanted her to know every thought in your head, even if it had a chance of going sour. “I’m really gonna miss you Nika. More than anyone else, I think.” You finally manage to get out.
She sits up now too, her brown hair blowing in the salty wind, her almost hazel eyes glinting from the reflection of the water, or perhaps something else, something like hope.
“More than anyone else?” She questions you.
“Yeah.” You say, turning to meet her stare. “I’ve always liked you more than the others.”
“Hm.” She says, as if she was expecting more.
The silence is eating at you, you just want to scream out how badly you want her. You know it’s too late, when this trip is over everyone splits. You to your hometown, Aaliyah to Washington, Nika to Seattle, Paige and the others to Connecticut. Still, you didn’t want to live with this in you forever.
“I had a massive crush on you during freshman year.” You utter as confidently as possible.
Nika’s lips part in surprise “You- you did?”
“Yeah. Major.” You scoff. Those days were almost pathetic in hindsight, obvious to everyone but Nika and yourself.
You watch as Nika draws swirls in the sand with her finger. You can practically hear the gears turning in her head.
“And…when did this crush fade away?” She finally asks you.
You let a beat pass before sucking it up and saying. “It didn’t.”
Nika’s eyes really widen now. You hold her gaze as best as you can. “I never stopped liking you. It just got stronger overtime, actually.”
You almost recoil when she scowls at you.
“Fuck you.”
“What?”
“Fuck!” She rubs her face, exasperated. “You- urgh, I wish you told me. I wish you told me way, way earlier.”
You don’t say anything.
“I wish I knew. Don’t you get it?” She whines, almost pleadingly. “God, if you’d told me way earlier we could’ve…maybe we would’ve..” she trails off.
Finding out that Nika Mühl, your best friend and longest love, also loved you should’ve been the best moment of your life. Instead it had you thinking of everything that could’ve been.
“I was scared.” You mutter. “I was so, so scared, I don’t know why. I wish I’d just told you, but you know me. I never take chances. I pass the ball, I don’t make the shot. I just…I wouldn’t have been able to take it if you didn’t feel the same. So I never did anything.”
She’s close to you now, hand on your knee, face flushed.
“What are we gonna do?”
You stare at her face, eyes darting from her eyes, then lips, the her eyes again.
Her eyes are beautiful. Honey brown, golden in the sun but piercing now at dusk, eyelashes long and fluttering as she tries to make sense of this situation.
You’ve wanted her more than you’ve wanted that ring at the end of the National Tournament every single year. The thought of you wasting time that could’ve been spent pressed next to her, skin to skin and soul to soul? It was sickening to you.
Still, here she was. Eyes begging you for something you’ve dreamed of. The sky now staining the beach a violent pink.
When your mouth meets hers it’s everything you’ve fantasized about. Her lips are full and soft, fitting perfectly against your own. You can feel her lashes tickle your face as you tilt your head just right, her arms get goosebumps when you fiddle with her hair.
Pulling away from her, you can’t help but melt at the satisfied smile on her face.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Nika says. “I just wish it could’ve happened earlier.”
“I’m tired of wishing.” You say, putting a hand on her face gently. “We can’t change anything now. It’s over. But we have today.”
She drinks in the feeling of being this close to you. “We have now.” Nika whispers.
Your kisses are sweet and chaste at first, but it’s getting colder out and you need her warmth. She changes the pace, clashing into you with a sense of urgency now. When her mouth slightly opens and you feel her tongue against yours you know it’s over for you. She can have whatever she wants.
Nika finds herself straddling you now, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of everything that’s happening.
After four years of thinking of her before bed, before letting your hands take care of yourself night after night to the thought of her, here she was in all her glory. Body toned and breathing hard, hair sprawled against her tan skin, fingers untying her bikini top.
She leans into you, but instead of kissing you she puts her mouth to your ear. You can feel her smirk against your skin.
“How much of the past four years do you wanna bet I can make up for in one night?
#Spotify#fanfic#fanfiction#uconn wbb#light angst#angst with a happy ending#rpf#nika muhl x reader#nika muhl#nika mühl#uconn women’s basketball
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imgonnagetyouback
pairing: logan sargeant x reader
summary: you aren’t sure if you want to destroy his car or take him home with you
a/n: most of this was written late at night and not proofread. love y’all, thanks for answering the poll, that was fun. might do it again
requests open masterlist
————————
You enter your usual Miami haunt with your friends, one mission in mind. Your lilac skirt fits your like a glove, showing off your legs and curves. It was Logan’s favorite.
Logan was an asshole, he knows it, ever since he broke up with you last year. He’s been keeping tabs on your socials recently, knowing this is where you go when you are in Miami instead of Fort Lauderdale. He brought Oscar with him as moral support, they stand at the bar, laughing over some bubbly drink.
Your eyes scan the club as you walk in, slightly pausing when you recognize the blonde guy staring at you from the bar, you can tell when someone wants you. Instead, you train your eyes on some guy on the dance floor, sending him a flirty smile and joining him for a dance or two, giving Logan a chance to pull himself together before going in. He can’t help but tell Oscar how good you look. The trap has been sprung. You are going to get Logan back. Whether romantically or by revenge, you weren’t sure.
You walk over to the bar, pretending to have not noticed the pair, standing one seat over.
“Tequila shot,” you order and Logan takes his chance.
“Add two more and put it on my tab,” Logan tells the bartender, Oscar gags a little, but doesn’t protest. You give Logan a look he can’t decipher, but you slide into the seat beside them.
“Thanks,” you say, the awkward small talk between the three of you filling the time as you wait for the shots. Logan salts his wrist for his shot. You grab his wrist, lick it, and throw back the shot. Oscar barely suppresses his laugh as you turn to go back to the dance floor. Logan quickly throws back the shot and follows you. Your friends find Oscar and chat, the group curious to see how this pans out.
“Y/n,” Logan catches your wrist, you act like you don’t care about him, but you can see the whispers in his eyes searching if you still love him. It breaks your cold heart a little. “Don’t be mad, please. I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, trying to win you back.
“I’m like your fucking car. You steered me into the fucking ditch then ran off,” you say after a second, turning back towards the crowd, he just pulls you closer.
“I’m so sorry. I hate myself for that,” he admits, you ignore him, dancing to the beat, not pushing him away but not encouraging him to dance with you either. Just when things are feeling too comfortable, you walk away in the direction of the bathrooms. Logan follows.
“Will you give me a chance?” he asks, the music quiet in the background. ‘God, he’s so fucking fine’ you think to yourself. The lighting doing everything right, the shadows enhance his jawline but his eyes shine bright.
“I haven’t decided yet,” your eyes revealing more than you intended. He can see the hurt and love in them. You aren’t sure if you want to curse him out or bring him home.
“What can I do,” he grabs your hands.
“I don’t know. I’m between being your wife or smashing your car,” you say, steeling yourself. Logan is thinking twice, unsure if he was ever yours or was never not yours. Logan pulls your closer, kissing you. Your body automatically responds to him. letting him pull you close.
“You’re mine,” you whisper, the temptation to both flip him off or pull him into the bathroom strong. He follows you back to the dance floor, you can feel the tension and chemistry coming back, electricity humming in the way you dance together. It’s like pressing a reset button, becoming something new. Oscar and your friends left a while ago, knowing the two of you were determined to leave here together from the start.
You tell the cab the address of your Miami apartment. Every moment that passes sees the hurt and past fade to gray.
“Pick your poison, I’m poison either way,” you had told Logan earlier, he chose you anyway, the both of you wanting to play with the broken pieces of your former relationship.
He pushes you against the wall, kissing you passionately.
“Before we do this, where do you stand? If we go ahead, there is no turning back,” Logan stops, needing to know that you belong to him again, you already know he belongs to you.
“I hate you but I love you just the same. I’m gonna get you back,” you tug on his shirt, pulling him back to you, a feral need for him growing.
It wasn’t a surprise to Logan’s friends when you showed up to the Miami paddock later that week.
What was a surprise was the ring around your finger, one that matches the one around Logan’s.
“What the hell?” Oscar asks, a smile on his face.
“I’m not going to let her go again,” Logan looks down at you with a smile.
“I chose to love him till the end, luckily for Sauber,” you joke, referencing the team who decided to take a chance on Logan and help him develop.
“I’m happy for you two,” Oscar says, happy to see his best friend happy. Everyone but your parents were happy for you, the parents were just mad you got married without them there.
“I am too, but I will take it out on his car if he hurts me again,” you tell Oscar, joking but not joking. Logan just holds you closer. You both told each other about your plans to get each back, it caused a lot of laughter.
“That’s my wife,” he grins proudly. Oscar shakes his head at his friends.
“You did what!” Alex runs over to the two of you. “Where was my invite? Oh, glad to have you back Y/n, Lily missed you,” Alex says, as the two of you just laugh.
instagram
y/nsargeant what if i told you i’m a mastermind, and now your mine ❤️
logansargeant it was all by design ❤️
oscarpiastri not letting the two of you go back to a club, Y/n will end up pregnant or something
y/friend1 you both took getting each other back a little too seriously. this is why i love you
user1 hold up, since when were mom and dad back together??
user2 AND MARRIED??
y/friend2 you really went to the club heartbroken and left ready to get married😭 ilysm
alexalbon they are so unserious 😭
sauberf1 when did this happen? LOGAN??? we’re not mad. pick up your phone
charlesleclerc ^^^
carlossainz55 ^^^
landonorris ^^^
georgerussell iconic
y/nsargeant thanks pookie 🫶
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Rage, rage | three
prologue | one | two | three |
Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC
Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.
Warnings: heavy injures, description of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, bad language, english not being my first language
They look at each other, adrenaline boiling and screaming in everyone's veins. Nimue doesn't take her eyes off Rhysand, but she feels everyone looking at her.
She feels naked, unprotected.
She blinks to get used to all that light. She had never seen so much light and it's beautiful.
Her senses come to life as she lets go of Rhysand's hand, which she had unknowingly been clinging to. She breathes over and over, trying to calm herself, but involuntarily she begins to tremble.
What has she done, what has she done, what has she done.
Father is going to kill her.
Amidst her frenzy of thoughts, Rhysand starts barking orders. She doesn't hear them well, only scattered words: healer, help, house.
Nimue glimpses a huge house to her right, and realizes she has brought them all to the courtyard of a mansion. Around her, everyone seems to spring into action.
The blonde female runs into the house, and seconds later comes out accompanied by another woman, shorter and slighter. She can't tell if she's fae or a creature. When Nimue and her lock eyes, it's like they're looking in a mirror. Both frown but decide to ignore each other.
For Nimue, it's as if everything is happening in slow motion: when she wants to realize, there's another person there, attending to the two injured Ilyrian. A glow emanates from her hands, its warmth reaching the princess's face. A healer, she supposes. She had never seen one.
She fights against her own panic, trying to get used to all the hustle and bustle and all those sounds. The birds flying above her head, the sunlight, the smell of the sea, the smell of pine and cedar, the voices around her, the poor Ilyrian screaming in pain...
She lowers her gaze, and without thinking, she starts speaking: "I can help."
Everyone looks at her again, judging her. They scan her from head to toe.
The two females who were thrown into the Cauldron are to her left, crying and hugging the one who was with Rhysand. Are they sisters? They looked so much alike...
"I can help," she repeats, this time firmer. She starts walking and sees how Rhysand prepares to attack her, "I can heal both of them, if you let me."
She analyzes the High Lord's face, and sees how little by little he is giving in. No one articulates any words, with a simple nod of the male's head, he grants her permission. He has nothing more to lose.
She kneels beside the one with the shattered wings and begins to do what she does with herself and the wounds she has ever suffered: with her magic, she grasps every little nerve ending, every small piece of skin. She pulls them and threads them, weaves them, joins them and separates them as if making a tapestry. So little by little, she shapes the wings of that Ilyrian. It's all pure instinct, what her nature dictates to her.
Father always told her she was his Goddess of Destruction, but Nimue knew deep down that she was capable of fixing, of healing, of bringin good to the world.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, she was piece by piece, shred by shred, joining and repairing the broken wings of that male. When she reached the bones, she simply imagined how they should have originally been: she ordered them to return to their form, to be soldered, and they obediently complied.
With a final grunt from the male, Nimue finished her work. But before she could get up, he grabbed her arm:
"Thank you," he whispered. Nimue is stunned. Thank you?
Had anyone ever thanked her for anything? Had anyone shown her gratitude?
No, her real doubt wasn't that. Had she ever done anything worthy of others' gratitude?
She swallowed her fear and terror, kneeling on the ground. She watched as the male limped away from her and enveloped the blonde female in a hug, how he squeezed her tightly as they both cried on each other's shoulders.
She was so, so lost. Where was she? What was happening around her?
"What a miracle of a girl," the healer whispered. Standing between Rhysand and the slighter female, the more aged-looking woman never took her eyes off her, "You are a Cauldron's blessing. When you're done, I'll need you to teach me how you do that. You are a–"
"Silence, Madja," Rhysand's voice resonates under her feet and in the very mountain, as if he had spoken those words inside Nimue's skull. She shrinks, intimidated. That's the power of a High Lord, "Now him. Heal him.”
She looks away from Rhysand and sets her gaze on the last remaining male.
Kneeling on the ground beneath him is a pool of his own blood and something that seems to be shadows, moving frenetically back and forth. She had never seen anything like it, those... beings, moving around the man. Nimue hears faint noises that she can't quite understand.
Behind her, she feels a presence moving. Rhysand looks down at her, those violet eyes so deep that Nimue feels hypnotized, "Don't just stand there gaping and do what you did to Cassian. Now. Or I'll cut off your head, you filthy Hybern rat."
She nods, and when she turns back to the winged male, he looks back at her. His amber eyes follow every small movement she makes: from the slight tremble of her lower lip to the way she raises her hand.
When he tries to speak, a trickle of blood runs down his lip to his chin, "Touch me and I'll cut off your hands, traitor."
Nimue trembles.
What the hell is she doing? Where has she gotten herself into?
Before she knows it, two streaks of water run down her cheeks. Is she crying? She had never cried before, what a strange sensation.
Her gaze travels to the hands of the male in front of her. He grips a beautiful black dagger, its tip directly aimed at Nimue's chest.
She swallows hard and, in a quick motion, grabs the arrow he has lodged in his chest and pulls it out with all her strength. She has been so fast that the male collapses forward, falling on top of her.
Rhysand and the healer, Madja, take care of getting him off her, and when Nimue tries to touch him again, the High Lord growls at her, "I told you to heal him, not to open up the damn hole in his chest further."
By pure instinct, Nimue snarls back at him, "I am healing him, you idiot. Back off."
Where she found the courage, she doesn't know. But they obey her, and she gets back to work.
The male is lying on his back on the ground, and Nimue places her hand on his chest, where the arrow was previously lodged. She begins to weave again, slowly, thread by thread.
Her gaze rests on his face, which, with closed eyes, lets out the occasional groan between his teeth.
Azriel feels like his chest is on fire. He feels the edges of the wound burning, he feels combustion from within. He takes gulps of air as he struggles not to lose consciousness, and blinded by the pain, he reaches his hand into the air and grabs onto the first thing he finds.
Nimue startles when his hand grabs her elbow, but she lets it be, the touch of his glove is a new, pleasant, and different sensation. She looks back at his face, and in a low voice, she speaks to him, "I'm almost done. Just making sure there's no trace of the poison that the arrow was coated with."
Azriel lets out a growl. He couldn't care less about the explanations. He just wants it to be over already.
The pain reaches the core of his bones and he opens his eyes abruptly, looking at the girl in front of him.
What is that?
Around her, he sees a thread, a small golden rope encircling her: it descends down her shoulders and arms, caresses her wrists and fingers, and wherever her skin meets his, he sees how the thread enters his own body.
Is he hallucinating?
Hasn't he had enough with the arrow between his ribs, that now the poison is making him hallucinate?
Behind the girl, he sees Rhysand, Amren, Cassian, Mor, even damn Madja. He sees how in slow motion their brows furrow, he sees how they lean forward, looking puzzled at something that makes Azriel scared.
"What's going on?" he asks agitated. He tries to sit up on his elbows, but although the pain has already diminished, it still doesn't let him breathe properly, "What are you all looking at like that?"
Nimue furrows her brows as she pushes the man back to the ground so he stays still. She frowns, as she begins to feel something on her fingertips...
Something is not right.
The sensation travels up her forearm and shoulder, and settles in her chest. There inside, like a caged bird, that sensation starts tumbling, back and forth, faster and faster.
She removes her hand from the man's chest and he sits up in front of her, like a spring.
Azriel feels like he's going to explode. What has that witch put inside him? What kind of magic has she used on him?
"What the hell have you done to me?" he shouts. Azriel brings a hand to his chest when that pressure keeps growing.
Nimue mimics him, feeling like her chest is going to burst.
What has she done? Has she made a mistake? Perhaps her magic has betrayed her now for the first time...
She's hyperventilating, and when she feels that, indeed, she's going to explode like a firework, she looks into the eyes of the male in front of her.
And then everything suddenly calms down.
They stare at each other, stunned, not knowing what to say. Their breaths come together, equally fast and choppy.
And when their bodies stop vibrating and calm down, she feels it there.
There's something, something pulling her towards...
Towards him.
Azriel jumps to his feet, as if they hadn't just removed a poisoned arrow from his chest or he hadn't just lost liters and liters of blood. He finds Truth Teller in its usual place and with a practiced motion after years and years of battles, he grabs the girl by the collar of her clothes and lifts her up like a feather. The dagger rests comfortably against her neck, and she does nothing but look back at him, wide-eyed.
"Azriel!" Rhysand shouts. He ignores his High Lord, although every fiber of his being tells him to obey him, "Azriel, let her go!"
Then, Nimue comes to her senses. With a practiced movement, the winged male is kneeling on the ground again. The pretty black dagger is now in her hand, while with the other she pulls back his hair.
Azriel doesn't know when all this happened. He just knows that he blinked and now he's the prey. He clings to the girl's hand pulling his hair and tries to break free, but he can't understand how such a small woman can have the strength of a thousand men.
"Now I'm going to let go of you and you're not going to attack me. Understood?" She utters each word slowly, as if speaking in another language.
Nimue takes a step back, releasing the dagger, which falls to the ground with a dull thud.
Azriel stands up, and in a leap, he's next to Rhysand in an attack position.
Before Nimue, everyone present is on high alert. Some in attack position, others simply ready for whatever may happen.
The first to speak is Azriel, with the same accusatory tone as before, "What have you done to me? Undo it." He's trembling, and Nimue can't tell if it's from fear or from the pure rage she sees in his face.
Even if she wanted to, she couldn't undo it, because she herself doesn't know what has happened.
What is that pulling her? What is that feeling in her chest, an anchor dragging her toward that winged male?
Everyone remains silent, looking at each other.
However, it's Rhysand who speaks first, the voice of reason in a desperate situation, "Let's all calm down."
Because he doesn't know if he's the only one who sees it, who feels it. That sudden change in the air. It smells like cedar and mist, like Azriel. But if he pays attention, he smells the sea salt and the sweetness of poison in the air. The scent that the girl in front of them emits. It's intoxicating and chilling at the same time. He couldn't say.
What he can say, however, is what he sees crystal clear. Azriel's essence, mixed with that of the unknown girl. He sees how both mingle in the air.
And then, Rhysand would swear that he stopped hearing Azriel's heartbeat next to him.
"My mate," his friend whispers. His face, a complete expression of surprise, something that the Shadow Singer rarely showed, "She's my mate.”
Taglist:
@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @donttellthecats
A/N:I really hope you are all enjoying it. Every kind of support is greatly appreciated, and thank you so much to those who already support it!! If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know 🥰
#azriel x you#azriel x oc#azriel imagine#azriel x reader#azriel#azriel acotar#acotar fic#acotar fanfiction#acotar#rhysand#cassian#azriel fanfic#azriel fic
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strong enough | J. Jungkook (3)
<series masterlist
pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader
genre/tags: idol! Jungkook, idol! reader, idiot exes to lovers, slow burn ; k-drama feels (our beloved summer but not at the same time), angst, drama, fluff, smut
warnings: foul/explicit language, alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters, panic attacks, reader is harsh towards Jungkook, Jungkook is a meanie!, mentions of old abuse (major trigger warning!!), talk about blood and wounds
w.c: aproxx 11.2
series summary: you and Jungkook have too many personal problems, during and after your relationship and it keeps getting brought up. you both had tried multiple times to ignore the fact you were both struggling mentally and physically due to your workplace, but you always run back to each other. maybe one day, one day you'll get back to each other, with all your problems handled, maybe not. all you want is for him to shine like he always does, all he wants is you.
a/n at very bottom!
To my love, my forever. You will soon find out the reason why I am the way am I. Give me some time, my love, I will express everything and more to you. Soon, you’ll have everything once I am able to love and care for myself the way I want to do to you. You deserve everything and more than what I could ever give you, and I will be there for you always. I may never give you this, I may never allow you to read this. But just know, you mean so much to me. Even if I’m a pain in the ass, or if I piss you off, you will always be the person who helped me want to change for the better. I know it may seem like i’m leaving you behind, but pushing you away is the best way for me and you to be able to find ourselves. Once we are settled and ready, I will never let you go, ever again. Mark my words, use them against me, but I know that once you let me in, I’ll never leave your side ever again. You’re my one and only, forever. You are my future, my light, the person who drags me to be right. You mean so much to me and more. But for now, let me go to become the one that deserves your love and wellbeing. Take care of yourself, Jungkook, you will do many good things in life, with or without me.
“i think you should give it to him,” one of your members slur out, making your already wobbly head tilt up to her as she hiccups for the 5th time that same hour, you sighed and your head pounded as your squinted tightly to look at her, “seriously! i think he would want closure that way,”
Jungkook definitely did. he knew that when you wrote letters, you meant every little thing. he knew something happened between you and your ex, his name is like a slap in the face to you, and he could always notice.
his hands started to shake as he continued to read your note, he didn’t know how you came all the way to his house just to ring the door bell and drop it off. he was even shocked to notice his name in your handwriting on the top of the note. he wasn’t mad about it, he was just so, so sad. his eyes burned as another drop fell onto his lap. Jungkook knew it was for the best, but why does it hurt so bad and why does he feel like he’ll never get better while you do?
Jungkook didn’t want to think that way, but he did. he always did, he hurts to see you go but hurts even more to see you shine without him. he kept all your little notes in a box, he was really considering giving it back to you since it was at some of your most vulnerable times. he wouldn’t want to keep these just in case he snoops through them, like he’s doing right now as he was putting the other note in there along with the tons of others.
one of them wrote a song that you made about him, him never leaving you and the way you love him. it breaks his heart more, knowing that you’re no longer around, and that he just keeps fucking up.
when you wake up the next morning, your hungover member told you about a box she found outside the door step with your name on it, your ears ring as you stand in front of the box sitting on your bed, biting the inside of your cheek because this was Jungkook’s box. it had a polaroid of the two of you with shots in your hands on his balcony last summer. it was his favorite picture of you both and wanted to keep it with all the letters you even written him.
you pace around your room for like and hour, biting your lip and running your hand through your hair to calm yourself down. it finally felt like you guys were officially over, no matter how many times you’ve broken up. when you opened it finally, there was a new one, one you definitely didn’t write. you don’t even remember going to his house and giving him the one you were gonna keep for your sake.
it was Jungkook’s hand writing, you knew it from the back of your palm, literally as you have a tattoo that he gave you himself. it read,
forever
and looking at it makes you sick. you felt like crap anytime you thought of him, what you had put him through, all the stuff he doesn’t know about you. you knew him so well, but did he actually even know you, truly? it made you want to cry, the tears lining your waterline and you fight the urge.
you give yourself time before opening up his letter, preparing yourself for the worst or to cry. when you start reading it, you felt like he was there with you. it felt as if he was pacing around your room, looking you dead in the eyes and telling you everything you’ve been wanting to hear, but at the wrong time.
I miss you a lot, I know I say that a lot, but it’s true. I’m glad you wrote me this, I’m glad you’re trying to find ways to open up to me, I’m glad you love me. You are my everything, I want what’s best for you, and if it’s not me then so be it. You deserve the whole fucking world, and I hope you know I tried so hard to give it to you. Maybe, in the long run, we can be happy together. Maybe we can be able to know each other truly, I always wanted to. I believe in right person, wrong time, because you’ll forever be my person, even if i’m not in the picture. I love you, ______, I always will.
you wanted to sob, you didn’t even know what to do. you had dropped the note off not expecting anything back, but getting everything back? even a letter from him, confessing how much he loves and cares for you. you didn’t know how to feel, if it was closure or not. to you, yours was supposed to be. his, his was a love letter, you’ll never let go of it.
you had one more promotion for you group, and you had to prepare in so many ways. you had to practice tons, and practing handling your emotions until you’re a zombie to what you truly feel, you couldn’t handle being around Jungkook for long. it’s crazy, how much you used to look at him thinking you’d never do anything to hurt him, yet you’re over here making him suffer because you are in your head. it tears at the deepest parts of you, and it makes you feel so much at once.
so when it came to the event, you felt your knees lock when you saw him sitting with his team. he looked breathtaking, and it sucks that you can’t look at him for long before you cry because he looks too good. Jungkook always looked good, but whenever you wanted to ignore him, it’s like he knows and wants to look that fine. you gulp hard because walking to over your assigned seats, a couple seats back behind them but at an angle to a way that you can see every part of Jungkook, his hands and thighs especially.
ones that put you through hell, sent you to another universe is what he would of said and has said before, smoking off your balcony as you sat on his lap with your legs shaking trying to not fall off. he laughed as he smacked your thighs, watching them shake more as you practically whine in soreness.
he took another puff off his cig before putting it down on his designated ash tray, but even knowing you didn’t smoke, he kissed you hard, forcing the hot smoke into your mouth and through your pipes, allowing him to do anything to you because you were obsessed with everything he did.
“fucked you out, huh, princess?” he said against your ear as he gave you a second to breathe, making you almost choke as his hand started to move down and between your thighs, giving them a squeeze before going deep between them to touch you where you shook the most.
let’s just say, the memory had your legs close tightly together. the thought of how much have gave you that night, it made you miss him even more for just taking care of you like he said he would. you could feel it starting to stick against your skin, immediately wanting to go to the bathroom.
you thought you were stable enough to walk down the stairs in front of all the idols and fans including, instead you almost dropped face first into the steps instead someone’s hand wrapped around your waist and around the inside of your thigh, gripping it hard as they held you from falling to your death infront of thousands of people.
“your shoes too big for you, baby?”
you really thought you were going crazy, that his presence was just teasing you. but as your eyes dragged themselves down to the hand around the inside of your thigh, you weren’t going crazy. the tattoos proving who the man really was and how his thumb was very close to your throbbing clit. you shivered before quicking bowing at him once you leave his grip and speed walking towards the exit.
the moment you got alone in a hallway, you looked around before pulling out your phone to text your leader where you were going to be, the bathroom, before you hear a door open behind you. you go to put your phone away, but a tight grip around your waist turns you towards the person, your phone falling on to the floor and your mouth to open up, perfect for the attacker to kiss you hard.
another hand grabs your hair and you immediately knew who it was based on the way he was holding you. he knew, and knew it was because of him. that’s all your thought about when his lips were softly against yours, until you felt his hands creeping up. he just knew how to distract you from the facts and knows how to get you to enjoy his attack.
“can we talk soon, princess?” he whispers lowly in your ear once he pulls away from your now desperate lips trying to reach his. you whimper at the nickname, one that just rolls off his tongue in such a degrading way, he grabs your chin softly, turning your face to face him. his eyes invited yours, and the longer you looked into them, the more you felt entranced by him.
“talk about what?” you sighed into his hold, which he notices and gives you your favorite smile in the whole world. it hard to ignore his hands gripping your waist, your hands clinging onto his dress shirt as he holds you, you didn’t expect to be in this position.
“we will talk later tonight, i’ll pick you up?”
“how, with what car-”
“i’ll figure it out, anything for you,” he presses his forehead against yours, making your eyes squeeze shut as he lets out a little chuckle because of your reaction to his proximity being so close to you, you could almost feel his breath against your lips. “you know i’ll do whatever i need to do to see you, i will figure out a way to see you later tonight, bunny, i promise,” he kisses your nose softly before letting you go without your even realizing he picked up your phone for you, a smile across his face as you nodded your head for him.
Jungkook didn’t give you a time, or a place to when he was going to pick you up. before you left the event, you had asked him what he was planning on doing with you and he just told you that you’ll have to wait and find out. Jungkook knew how to make you worry about what could happen. what should you even wear? is he taking me somewhere to eat? it’s kinda late for that-
doink
something just hit your window as you were pulling your pants up, you almost tripped in shock but managed to pull them up and fix yourself before going to your window. there he was, the man of your dreams, the love of your life, standing down there searching for more rocks to toss at your window.
you cracked your dorm room window open, not even wanting to question how he managed to get over the brick wall to get into the dorms, and he smiles when he sees your head peaking from the bottom of the window. he pats his hands on his thighs while you watch him with curiosity.
“get down here bunny, we have a lot to do tonight,” he stood up straight, hands put in his pockets as he stared off at you. you would of jumped right there into his arms after that nickname, you almost whined before nodding your head like an idiot and shutting your window.
you managed to sneak out, grabbed your shoes at the front and headed out from the back blind spot and running to where Jungkook stood, his hands tucked in his pockets to stay warm. his left arm raised so you could wrap your arm around it, a habit of the both of you. you just ignored the bad feelings and wrapped your arm around his, feeling his arm tighten around yours as you both started to walk to the car.
“you gonna tell me where we’re going, Jeon?” you tilt your head, your left knee against his center console as your left side rested on his passenger seat. his hand slid up to your knee, leaving you in shock as he gripped it in warning.
“stop asking questions, baby,” he tapped his finger on your knee, not even bothering to look your way. you huffed as you closed your eyes, trying to ignore his thumb moving against your thigh now, his hand resting against it too.
“Jungkook, you know we can be doing this again. i know you remember what happened last time,” you warned, your head felt like it was spinning, none of this felt real. Jungkook bit his lip ring in thought, he just wanted to talk to you and apologize. he always wants to talk to you even if he’s been rude.
“______, what do you think i’m going to do to you tonight?” he spoke deeply, it sent waves through your spine, and down to your poor kitty. it’s crazy, what this big eyed man can do to you with only his hand on your thigh while he speaks to you like your his.
“i- i don’t know, what are you asking me? i’m just confused why you’re doing this-”
“what do you want me to do to you tonight, baby? is there something else bothering you that only i can fix?” his hand rubs your inner thigh, occasionally softly squeezing the skin closest to where you needed help the most. “i’ll do whatever you want me to do to you, you just have to speak up, darling. is that okay? can you do that for me, princess?”
you almost moaned, gasping at his eagerness to help you with whatever you want, and you knew he meant that. “Jungkook, we can’t be doing thing again, as much as we want to-”
“fuck that and fuck no contact, we were doing good as fuck the last time we were friends. can we not be friends, baby?”
“that’s why! you keep calling me my favorites, you can’t do that to me..” you whined, you wanted to hide away as he giggled at how you whined. when the car slowly starts to come to a stop, you got reminded that the whole time you were talking to him, getting teased by him, he was driving. “Jungkook… where are we?”
“let me help you out and show you,” he smiled, and you just knew that you had to trust him, why? because he’s Jeon Jungkook, why wouldn’t you trust the love of your life?
when he open your door, hand already reaching for his as he helped you out of the car, the smell of salt hit your face in a whiff, making you smile at the moment you had at this beach with Jungkook. but why here? why did he want to talk here?
you didn’t trust your voice, watching his open his back door to grab a blanket and cigs, which you thought he quit, with a lighter and a flashlight. you didn’t say a word as you hugged onto his arm as he walked to a specific place, your guys place. the place where he gave you head for the very first time, you found sand up there for at least a day after that.
“do you trust me, sugar?” Jungkook asked you, tugging you to sit next to him on the blanket over the cold sand at the dark lonely beach. it’s like he knew what you were worried about, could you trust him again? it’s not like he broke your trust, it’s about you trusting yourself around him. if anything besides talking happens tonight, and you guys become exactly what you were afraid of becoming, you won’t know what to do with yourself.
it’s a bit selfish you thought, as his hand rested against your shoulder as you snuggled against his neck, breathing in only Jungkook and a little bit of salt. you loved this, but it couldn’t get any farther than this. just small, and slight, touches and sometimes kisses, only at certain times. the sound of the waves crashing tingled your ears, debating if you should listen to his heartbeat or not.
“do you know why i want you out here with me tonight, baby?” his voice vibrated your cheek as he spoke, his fingers gliding against the thin fabric of your long sleeved shirt. you hummed, you felt him swallow before you moved your head to face him.
“i wouldn’t have asked you that a million times in the car, Jungkook,” he smiles when your eyes finally reach his. he used to ask you, what did you see when you looked into his eyes? you usually just laughed it off or ignored the question, but now you think you know the questions answer. Home. in other words, Jungkook was your confort, the one you would go to, the one who makes you feel the safest, the one who keeps you feeling warm. Jungkook was your favorite.
Jungkook leans in, you can almost feel his breath against the wind, you almost forget where you are when you look deeply into his eyes. he leans so close to you that you could almost kiss him. you feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer- and closer to him, until your hovering above him.
you looked down at him, his hand sliding down your waist and on to your thigh to swing your leg over his body. he’s got you now, almost spread wide for him as his eyes glazed your entire body, making your shiver.
“let’s that about why you were so wet when i caught you from eating shit in front of everyone today, huh? or maybe… why you’re so wet right now, was it from the car ride? you just couldn’t wait, hm? baby?” he smacked your thigh, and you almost whimper at his words, “sit down on me, love. you know you want to. i’ll do anything you want me to, just let me in this one or more times and you won’t regret it this time,”
oh boy, you were in for a ride. baby, princess, sugar, darling, bunny, love. hearing that one burned, deeply in two places. your poor heart as you feel his hands grip your sides, and your poor throbbing cunt that it about to get slammed onto his hard on resting below you. either or, you know you’re safe and whatever happens can be dealt with. why? because you’re with Jeon Jungkook, why wouldn’t it be fine?
a/n: holy shit, this took forever and i sincerely apologize!! i love how this episode turned out and i will give you guys a slight warning! spicy scenes are coming up and I’m not backing down from this. it will be the dirtiest, most greatest- yeah! anyways, thank you for your patience, i love you all🥹
taglist: @loumin908 @heartjiminie @cuntessaiii @parkinglot-nights @minsoa97kor @jkgirlfr @lavendersugarplum @gaebestie @whoa-jo @kp0pficdump @yunholuv @skzthinker @shwkoqp18 @veemegatron @kaiparkerwifes @alextgef @nerdycheol @nightappple @nlr1606 @chl0buggy
if your tag isn’t gray, please fix your settings so i can tag you next time love!
#hyukaslvr#writers on tumblr#kpop fyp#kpop writers#bts#bts fanfic#jungkook bts#bts x reader#bts smut#bts army#bts fic#bts x y/n#bts x you#bts x fem!reader#bts x army#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook imagine#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#i love jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jeon jungkoooook#kpop smut#kpop x reader
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Horoscopes and lazy mornings (ln x reader)
Warnings: none
Summary: Lando and reader have a lazy morning in bed and Lando definitely knows how to interpret horoscopes.
Author‘s note: my first fic ever omggg!! I’m so sorry if this is bad and if I didn’t write it the way you wanted it, I know I left the part with the race out because I really didn’t know what to write there 🥲 and I am almost sure I don’t understand how horoscopes work @spookystitchery thank you again for the request.
(Reader is a Scorpio btw)
Monaco, 04.24.2024
The gentle strokes of the sun grazing over her bare skin made her stir slightly in her sleep and open her tired eyes.
She squinted her eyes slightly when they were met with the bright light shining through the curtains. She let out a small yawn and turned around in the hold of her boyfriend of three years. He was still in deep sleep, his curls messy, eyes shut and one arm lazily thrown around her waist.
She brought one hand up to his forehead to gently push some stray curls out of his face. She took his beauty in for another moment before he also opened his eyes slowly.
He stretched and yawned while flexing his arm muscles and tightening his grip around her waist. She smiled at him nuzzling his face into her neck and mumbling a husky „good morning“. She returned the greeting and buried her hand in his curls to massage his skull, hearing small grunts of satisfaction from him.
„Don’t you wanna get up lan?“ she asked him slightly amused. „No it’s way to early let’s sleep some more“ he groaned into her neck. „Baby it’s 1 p.m“ she grinned at him, feeling his warm breath sending shivers down her spine.
They had just gotten back from China the afternoon on the day before and were so jet lagged that they fell straight into bed. „Lan you’ve got to let me go to the bathroom at least“, she asked. „You’ll hurry though, right?“, he argued. „Sure“ she assured him and with another disapproving groan he actually let her go.
By the time she came back she found him a bit more straightened up, half sitting half lying on the bed scrolling on his phone. She crawled under the blanket again and laid her head on his shoulder, also opening her phone. Her first priority in the morning always was to check the horoscope for the day.
Lando didn’t really believe in horoscopes, but he knew it was important to y/n so he would never make seriously fun of her for it. „And what does is say today?“ „it says we should take time for our selves and the things we want to accomplish and we should be kind to ourselves“, she read out loud.
„Perfect, we wanted to spend the day being lazy in bed anyway“, he sighed contently and placed his phone back on the night stand to sneak his hands back around her waist.
„I don’t think that’s what it wanted to tell us but alright“, she told him with a playful eye roll. „I think that’s exactly what it wanted to tell us“, he answered and pulled her closer into his embrace. They spent the rest of the day cuddling and watching Netflix.
#lando norris x reader#lando norris#landonorris#lando x reader#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 fluff#ln4 x you#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fic#ln4 imagine#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1#f1 2024#mclaren#formula 1#formula one#Spotify
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𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 !!
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
warnings !! : oral sex, pet names (baby, princess, babygirl etc.), and terrible ass writing :3. I think that's all but let me know if there's more <3
Gojo won the poll !! I will admit this is my first time ever writing smut so I'm really sorry if it's bad😭
"wait, wait- so you're telling me that you've never been had someone go down on you?" Your boyfriend said, having you sit on his lap. You looked to the side embarrassed at the fact he said it out loud. "...yeah, is that like, a bad thing..?"
"no- no it's just really surprising. But I cannot let my babygirl go through life without never being ate out before!". Gojo then lifted you up and started to carry you bridal style, up the stairs, and into the his bedroom. He gently sat you down on his bed.
You're face started to feel hot as he sat you down. "You do want to this right?" The blue-eyed man asked you, on his knees, in front of your soaking panties underneath your sleep shorts.
You nodded your head, face even hotter then it was before. Your heart beat migrating to your cunt. Looking into your eyes and seeing your flustered expression already gave him the answer, but he wanted to hear it from you.
"Words baby, words." A teasing smirk on his smooth lips. He rose up before you could answer and took your lips in a sweet kiss. His left hand on your hip while his right hand is on the side of your jaw.
Pulling away, you gave him a soft but loud enough, yes. And with that answer he bent down to where he was before and his hand that was on your jaw slowly migrated to your shorts. Once his hands made it to the string of your pink shorts, he looked at you again just to make sure.
You really started to get impatient with the throbbing in your underwear. "Just do it toruu!" You said getting a little irritated because you already gave the ok.
Gojo gave a chuckle in response and untied the string. He then pulled down your shorts, reveling pretty, white cotton panties. Satoru gave a little sweet kiss on the light pink bow on the waistband of your underwear. Moving to to gently push you down on the bed and relocated back to your legs. Pressing little gentle kisses on your inner thighs.
Your breath hitches as you let out a small gasp. You could feel him suck and lick on the soft and tender skin of your thighs.
Soon enough, Gojo's fingers hook around the lacy waistband of your underwear and he slowly pulls them down. You gasp as the cool air in the room hits your soaking cunt.
"woah, baby. You're sopping wet." He chuckled, his hot breath blew against you as shivers went up your spine. He started off with a few kisses around the area before giving a kitten lick on your clit.
"holy- fuck!" A quick gasp left your lips as the pleasurable feeling went to your stomach. You felt Satoru hum against your wet pussy, which sent a vibration making you squirm.
A wet pink muscle gave your folds a long lick from bottom to top. You heart beat started going a lot faster as well of your breathing. You felt him do another long lick from top to bottom. "Mhmm" you moaned, the feeling in your chest and the pleasure bottling up in your abdomen felt all to good for you to comprehend.
Gojo slipped his tongue in your pussy, his right hand moving to lay on your lower stomach, thumb reaching down towards your clit. Satoru's thumb pad made contact with you sensitive clit, and started to rub slow circles while his tongue was still in you licking every inch of your gummy walls. The pressure that was on your clit and his tongue eating you out like a starved man, felt all to good. "God- fucking! Ahh!" You moaned out again.
"Baby, you taste so fucking- good. Like fucking candy, baby!" Gojo groaned, grinding his hard dick against the edge of the bed. You humping your hips forward in order to get closer to him, moaning and gasping every time his tongue hit the right stop. Hands moving to his white locks of hair, gripping tight as for something to hold on too.
Satoru moved up and started sucking and nibbling on your clit. That motion made Simon your abdomen snap. Your mouth hung open as you came in your boyfriends mouth. "Holy shhit." Moaning while riding out your high.
"There we go baby." Satoru spoke, mouth full of your sweet juices. He rose up and lied down beside you, picking you up to move you so you could lay on his chest. "That feel good, princess?" He asked, smirking down at you. "Yeah, yeah it did." You many to get out through trying to catch your beath.
"Good, good. You lay your pretty self here while I go run and make us a bath, mkay, babygirl?" You nodded and off he went.
You'll love that man till the day you both die. As sweet as he was, though fucking sassy too, you loved him.
⋆౨ৎ ₊˚ 🦢・₊✧
IM FINALLY DONE WITH THIS BROO OMFG😭😭😭
Hopefully you all enjoyed this! This was very awkward to write but I got it done !! I'm really sorry for my bad writing, I'm learning more on how to write more stuff like this !! But if y'all have any tips that would be very helpful and appreciated <3 :3 !!
#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo smut#jjk x reader#gojou satoru x reader#smutty smut smut#This was so awkward omlll#jujutsu satoru#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk smut
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hiiiii i'm here to give you a big hug and request a 1k prompt 🙌
1. a biiiiiig hug
2. as for the (hehe smutty) prompt!
i think i would LOVE to see ed feeling vulnerable and safe enough to share with stede that a lot of things don't work for him in bed because of his knee and at first he is cautious and worries stede will get angry or frustrated with him, but of course stede showers him with love and care and thinks of a hundred ways to have sex that are not painful or uncomfortable for him 🫶
Ooh I really loved this one, thanks so much for sending it in (and sending you a hug right back)! Get absolutely adored and cherished Ed!!
Under the cut since this one's a bit nsfw! I'd put it at a strong M rating, no explicit sexual content but obviously it's about sex.
Ed had never really owned up to how fucking inconvenient the knee could make things, not before.
See, there are certain things that are mood- killers, and then there are things that are straight-up dangerous to admit, and Ed’s little problem was both. The hookups Ed was used to wouldn’t just laugh at him for being in pain during sex, they would’ve taken it as a sign of weakness. A sign that Ed was vulnerable, weak, easy to exploit and to harm.
So, usually, he just put up with it. If it was awful, like if a guy pushed his legs back, forcing the knee to bend at a harsh angle, he might find some excuse to change it up, but usually he just closed his eyes and hoped his grunts of discomfort sounded pleasured instead of pained. He would close his eyes, after, breathing through the pain, vowing that he’d never have sex in a painful position again for the rest of his life, cautiously listening to make sure whatever guy he’d taken to bed wasn’t trying to pull any shit. Rinse and repeat a few weeks later.
Stede, though. Talk about a hell of a difference.
He’d figured out that Ed didn’t like some things, Ed thought. He never held down Ed’s bad leg, never forced the knee to bend. Rubbed the joint so tenderly after sex. And that maybe should’ve made it easier to admit to his problem, but Stede made Ed feel so good, and he wanted to return the favor, and…
“Ed, honey, you’re somewhere else tonight.”
Ed sniffed, shifted. They’d been breaking in their new bed (still called it that, even though they’d been breaking it in for a couple months now), and he was half in Stede’s lap, legs flung across Stede’s thighs. He should’ve felt perfect.
“Sorry,” he whispered, and when Stede’s light, appraising touches traveled down his leg, rubbing lightly at his knee, he hissed, the pain making him flinch involuntarily.
Stede kissed his fingertips, then touched them feather-light to Ed’s knee. “Does it hurt?”
“Just stiff,” Ed said dismissively.
Stede just hummed. Ed knew he wouldn’t force the issue.
“I, uh…” Ed cleared his throat. “What would you say if I said I didn’t think I should ride you anymore?”
He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on Stede’s face -
“I’d say that was fine,” Stede said easily. “Why? Does it make your knee hurt when we do that?”
“Maybe a little,” Ed admitted softly.
“Okay,” Stede said, and he positioned his hands around Ed’s knee, rubbing his thumbs gently along the sore, tender joint, working out the stiffness of exertion. Ed hissed, his face scrunching up at the sensation, and Stede just cooed soft apologies.
That was - that was it, though, wasn’t it? Ed knew he was safe to let Stede see him in pain. Stede hadn’t ever gotten angry or frustrated with him for being in pain or needing help with his knee before, why would this be any different?
“Um,” Ed started haltingly, “I actually think maybe we might need to be a little more careful. During intercourse. With my knee. If that sounds alright to you. Maybe.”
When he opened his eyes, Stede was getting that pinched line between his eyebrows.
“Ed?” Stede pulled Ed a bit more securely into his arms, and Ed sighed in satisfaction at the feeling of Stede’s arms around his waist. “Have you been hurting? While we have sex? Have I been hurting you?”
“Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad, I’m just…” Stede let his breath out in a long sigh. “I don’t want to ever do anything that hurts you. Not ever. Especially not when we’re trying to do something that’ll make us both feel good. How can I help keep you comfortable?”
“Well…” Ed grimaced. “Bending my knee is what hurts the most.”
“Alright,” Stede said thoughtfully, and Ed could see the wheels turning in his head. Taking out positions that required Ed to bend his knee took so much off the table. Riding, giving blowjobs, even fucking missionary, and Ed was a bit terrified he’d just ruined their sex life.
Clearly, he’d underestimated Stede Bonnet’s creativity.
Ed should’ve known he was in for a treat when he caught Stede woodworking in the backyard and was given a full presentation about all the features of the “blowjob stool” he was building, a seat designed to cushion and support Ed’s knee while putting him at perfect dick-sucking height.
Stede was endlessly thoughtful when adapting positions they already liked, too. Ed liked being taken from behind; they discovered that a pillow under his hips kept him comfortable and allowed him to keep his legs straight. When Ed missed looking into Stede’s eyes during sex, they experimented with variously supporting his knee with pillows or propping his ankle on Stede’s shoulder. Spooning, bent over a desk, the good ol’ 69… not all of Stede’s ideas or little inventions worked, but the ideas he had for supports to keep Ed comfortable meant it was the best sex Ed had ever had, full stop. It was really damn nice to be able to enjoy himself without worrying about being in pain.
The best parts, though, weren’t just the sex itself.
They’d found that Ed’s knee was least painful when his muscles were relaxed and when he was feeling good, so they often had a warm bath first. It was fun foreplay, and relaxing together while Stede rubbed tiger balm into the joint in the afterglow was the perfect way to snuggle and talk about what they’d enjoyed.
“I’m glad I told you,” Ed whispered one night, tracing their initials over Stede’s heart as they cuddled, Ed’s bad leg slung over Stede’s hip to keep it propped up.
“Me, too,” Stede said, kissing Ed’s cheek.
Ed was learning, still, that he’d never have to just put up with pain again. And it was soft, soft, as smooth and sweet as honey.
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The last, and probably my current favorites of the bunch: Prince and Mirage, dark Warriors and dark Legend! I keep trying to put the images side-by-side so they don't take up as much room but Tumblr HATES that. Sorry.
My document with all these boys' descriptions on it is over 7k words. Holy heck. Hope you like them. XD Masterpost
More information and art beneath the cut yayyy
Prince
Prince is dark Warriors.
Cia gave Warriors a lot of unwanted attention, which he spurned. Prince, on the other hand, wouldn't just accept the attention, but would have welcomed it. He wasn't entirely autonomous when he was summoned, but he remembers everything. He knows that he never wants to not be in control of himself ever again.
Instead of championing freedom, however, Prince makes a point of controlling others. If he controls them, they can't control him. Shackle is similar, but they have different methods. While Shackle prefers physical subjugation to be sure they're in his power, Prince uses manipulation. He pretends to be your friend, all the while gaining your trust. His job is made all the easier by his own special talent: Charm.
Prince’s Charm is a supernatural ability to influence people. Where Madness takes over bodies, Prince sways the mind. His Charm is something he can turn on and off at will, at different intensities. It doesn't work well on any being with too much light, but it does work on criminals or people with guilt and secrets. The other Darks are susceptible to it, though after… an incident… Prince doesn't do it to them. Usually.
It works like this: Prince identifies his target, which can be an individual or an entire crowd. He turns his Charm on intentionally, and depending on how hard he pushes, his target’s attention is drawn to his face. Because he does not look human, he then has to quickly begin talking, to pour even more Charm on. If he does it right (it does require skill and charisma), the target forgets his appearance is anything out of the ordinary. He needs a minute or two of conversation and rakish smiles to dig his claws deep enough that they don't remember anything unusual once they stop looking right at him. Prince uses his Charm to get information, favors, and generally spread his anti-Link agenda. The riskier or weirder his request is, the more Charm he has to layer on, and some people just straight up won't do some things. The Charm wears off after a while, depending on the target and how long they were exposed to it, which takes anywhere from a few minutes to a few weeks, averaging out at a day or two.
Prince has to choose his targets wisely, which can be difficult to do because he does not look human and does not have any kind of magical disguise. That last point is a sore spot. He doesn't want a disguise, he just wants people to stop looking at him like he's going to burn their house down, thank you very much. He only has their best interests at heart. Prince is bitter and extremely envious about Warriors winning hearts so easily thanks to his good looks and natural charisma, so Prince does his best to do the same without them. His Charm is better anyway.
…It's a good thing he hasn't actually been let loose on a population yet.
(Warriors is a bit of a flirt, but not too badly. Prince makes a game out of trying to make people fall in romantic love with him as fast as he can. (Author’s note: I'm not touching sex. That is not the sort of story I want to tell here.))
Prince doesn't need food, and he doesn't need to breathe, but he does need to use his Charm. Because he magically learns a bit of information about his targets when he's focused on them, his theory is that he leeches from their emotions, or their identities, or something of that sort. He hasn't shared the theory with anyone, but the Dark Chain does know that Prince needs to use his Charm or he starts to get very, very hangry. It's a physical need for him. Of course, pushing too hard or trying to Charm too many people at once gives him migraines.
Prince considers himself a leader, and it rankles him a bit that Depth is the one in charge. He contents himself with sitting back and letting Depth do all the hard things, though he has Charmed Depth several times into going along with what Prince wants to do. Prince sees Shackle as a sort of protege in the ways of manipulation, and occasionally provides pointers about how to subtly get under people’s skin. Prince and Madness end up working together a lot, since Prince can Charm Madness’s thralls into forgetting they ever lost time, or he can make up memories for them. Sometimes the two of them get migraines at the same time, which spells out lots of “fun” for everyone else. He fights a lot with Mirage and is always trying to catch Agony off-guard to give him a good scrubbing. He's the only reason that Nothing or Dire get baths, too.
Prince is arrogant and ambitious, yes. He's proud of his appearance and does his best to stay clean and orderly—he doesn't mind the memories of military training that he gets from Warriors, since those routines help him to be efficient. He wears a copy of Warriors’s outfit, but fancier, with a fluffy shirt and a corset on top, and his tunic is purple because (1) it's opposite green on some color wheels and (2) it's the color of royalty. His silvery hair is a little longer than Warriors’s is, and he wears a luxurious red cape.
Sometimes he puts a little too much flair into his moves, but he's proficient with as many weapons as Warriors is, if less practiced. He talks a lot, boasts a lot, and casually jabs where it hurts. He holds a lot of jealousy and hate in his heart, and if he gets a little drunk, he'll go on and on about how much he dislikes Warriors, specifically.
Prince’s ultimate ambition is to rule his Hyrule as undisputed, beloved emperor. He wants to do that by winning the hearts of every soldier, every servant, every noble. He wants to steal Warriors’s relationships right out from under him without him noticing. Prince knows that he can't rely on his temporary Charm to do that, though, so his plan is to ally with the organizations of traitors throughout Hyrule and add his persuasive charm and Charm to their efforts, eventually rising to become their leader.
Prince’s best dreams involve him standing over a defeated Warriors on the balcony of the castle, a crown on his head and a queen on his arm (or king. He just thinks stealing Artemis or Impa would make it all the sweeter), with crowds below cheering for him. He has plans to keep the aging Warriors as an honored “guest” in the castle for as long as he lives, doomed to watch his beloved, darkened kingdom flourish under Prince’s ruby eyes. Someday, Prince will change his name to Link, stealing that from Warriors, too.
Prince Link. Wait, no. King Link. No, even better… Emperor Link.
Actually, he doesn't like the sound of Emperor. He’ll workshop that title.
Mirage
Mirage is dark Legend, patterned after the Nightmares that Legend fought on Koholint. He knows Legend will know that immediately.
Mirage is truly shape-fluid. His form is extremely malleable, though he can't keep up looking perfectly like a human for more than half an hour or so—he starts to melt and revert back to his most comfortable state, which is a close copy of Legend, his matter constantly shifting and dripping and melting. (Most comfortable state, not his true form. Does he have a true form? He doesn't know what it is if he does.) He is best at mimicking nonspecific human forms and small reptiles. He pretended to be a bush once, but wasn't very convincing.
Mirage’s gooey flesh doesn't have many pain or touch receptors, and he doesn't need any kind of structure beneath the goo to stand up. He's very good at energy dispersion, so punching him means that you're either punching a brick wall or that your fist is getting absorbed. His goo is as warm as flesh and very slightly acidic, so touching him for too long can burn. He doesn't need to breathe, but he does digest organic material or minerals to build on his mass. He's weak against energy-type attacks, like acid or fire or ice, but it doesn't hurt him in the traditional sense and he can always build himself back up. He can drop entirely flat and easily squeezes through small gaps.
Most traditional dungeon traps do absolutely nothing to Mirage: spike traps don't hurt him, as holes in his form mean nothing; he doesn't really take fall damage, just splatters a bit until he can pull himself together; giant axes that cleave him in two don't actually hurt him, either. There is one small part of Mirage’s matter that is his core. If he gets cut into pieces, the rest of him will shrivel up and evaporate in an hour or two, but his core stays alive and can regrow in a matter of days. If he gets to any cut-off piece before it evaporates, he can reassimilate it. He often messes with his form to take on any physical challenge: looking around corners with an eye on a hand; growing taller to see over a wall; spreading out his feet and legs to float on water; squeezing into cracks in an ice block and expanding in the right spot to make it all shatter.
Mirage doesn't speak often, preferring to keep quiet. His voice is soft and slithering, with hissing Ss and a pitch that ranges from whispery to shrill. It's the worst voice in the group after Depth’s. He isn't the smartest of the Darks, but he is quite observant and if he does speak up, there's something important to pay attention to. Mirage often just goes with the group decisions, performing whatever role they require, though privately he absolutely resents having to work with anyone else, because Mirage works alone. He doesn't need companions, friends, shopkeepers, or family; he doesn't need vehicles, mounts, money, magic items, or even weapons. When he means alone, he means Very Alone.
The thing about Legend—despite the masks and attitude he puts on—is that he cares, so so much. He cares about people being happy and safe, he bonds with everyone nice he meets whether he knows it or not, he is self-sacrificing and always working for a better world, even when people don't ask for it. Mirage does not care about much of anything except himself. He would be most content wandering around a mountain, causing a bit of chaos in a nearby town, and using his abilities to traverse impossible paths, especially through caves, just because he can. He doesn't care about the other Darks (that's a bit more of a lie than he thinks it is), he doesn't care about Legend, he doesn't care about covering the world in darkness. He’s just dragged around and knows that they have to finish this stupid mission thing before he can be left in peace.
Mirage is somewhat fascinated with the way humans work. He's closer to an octopus or other eldritch sea creature himself, and mimics reptilian forms, but the more he learns about humans, the better he can mimic them. He might not care much about many things, but he's curious. He likes to investigate corpses (especially if he can eat them—the Dark Chain’s favorite way of “disappearing” people) and find out new things about their anatomy and chemical compositions, things he knows about and can memorize to reproduce in his own gooey flesh later. As such, he sometimes annoys the other Darks by poking at them or “testing” their senses or limits.
He gets along best with Lost, who doesn't care much, either, and doesn't get mad at his questions or testing. Mirage responds by taking Lost babysitting duty more than his fair share. (His apathy means he's really patient with Lost and Nothing and Madness.) He makes a good team with Agony, who he sees as very similar to himself, except Agony is clearly more driven. Agony is the quick and sharp counterpart to Mirage’s slow and inevitable destruction. (And it doesn't hurt that Agony is the electricity wielder among them, so if Agony sort of likes Mirage, then all the better.)
In a normal fight, Mirage is all but indestructible, walking through battle without problems. He doesn't bother attacking until someone hurts him, usually with fire or something similar. Then Mirage will focus to get rid of the threat—and he’s aware that the others expect him to target and take out Legend, so he does that if he has to. He's all but impossible to fight without elemental aid, and while he isn't too quick, he hits HARD and has a lot of tricks up his metaphorical sleeves.
Still, the fact remains that if you manage to hurt him, you hurt him a lot. Mirage isn't complicated, but he's very flexible and can do things nobody is prepared for.
(sorry for the low contrast. But hey, my goo-drawing skills are finally relevant! Look at that hat! And the foot!)
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Sweet treat
Vincent Renzi x reader
Word count: 1.8k
A/n: the dialogue is italicized because my French isn’t good enough (yet) to right proper dialogue.
Moments like these were precious to Vincent. These quiet serene moments where the only sound was the chirping of birds and the soft, mellow music in the background that accompanied it. He liked to light a cigarette, lean into his chair as he sat on his small balcony, looking out to the sky and the street below him.
However what captured his attention more was the cute little baker from across from him.
Vincent noticed that she often started her day early, rushing into the store as if her pants were on fire, hair unkempt and a cigarette dangling from her lips as the long winter coat protected her from the harsh wind. Vincent often donned a smile seeing her. He saw himself in her. The way the hair was messy and the cigarette, she was just another version of him. One that he so desperately wanted to know.
He watched her now, eyes squinting slightly as the silver haired man waited for his mystery woman to arrive. She was late today but Vincent swore up and down that he wasn’t stalking her. No, he’d never do that. He’d just familiarized himself with her routine. It wasn’t much different from his own. Up at such ungodly hours doing lord knows what.
This time though, she felt him watching. The clearly disheveled woman could feel eyes on her a couple months ago yet she chose to ignore it. Until she caught a glimpse of possibly the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. The young woman let a small smile graced her lips as he looked up at him, eyes squinting from the sun that decided to peek out today. He wasn’t looking at her then, no. He was looking ahead, not even in her direction. Deciding that she was running late already, the woman headed into the shop, quite unaware of Vincent’s watchful eyes.
Days went by yet neither of them made any moves. (Y/n) watched him occasionally, admiring the way his silver hair fell over his forehead. He looked like a cat. A very beautiful cat. She wanted to know the man yet she couldn’t exactly match up to him and ask questions. Her nose crinkled at the thought of being so invasive. Vincent, ever the recluse, watched her from his balcony, a cigarette in his mouth. He wanted to introduce himself to her and get to know her, possibly at dinner but he didn’t. He couldn’t.
“Watching him again?” A voice, Helene’s voice, interrupted the young woman from her thoughts. She turned her head slightly to look at the older woman standing in front of her, a teasing smile on her face and arms crossed.
(Y/n) scoffed. “No, I’m just… admiring the weather.” Her voice held uncertainty. Helene laughed, the young woman couldn’t lie to save a life.
“Mhm, because the weather is stunning today.” It wasn’t. The weather was horrible, not a peak of sunshine. It was just strong wind and clouds looking like they’re about to bless the ground with snow.
“Yeah. I can’t wait for the inevitable snow storm we’ll have.” The younger woman replied sarcastically, throwing her hair over her shoulder. She’d done it nicely today, two braids on both sides.
Helene looked up at the man, his name still unknown to both of them.
“He is quite beautiful.” She sighed, taking in Vincent’s form and earning herself a jab in the rib from her coworker.
“Come. Stop being distracted, we have work to do.” (Y/n) tells her, pulling the older woman in by her arm, leaving Vincent unbeknownst to their conversation.
The older man retreated into his apartment, it wasn’t a very small one. It was nice, well, nice enough for him. Two bedrooms, one used as an office while the other one looked like it had barely been slept in. He rubbed his eyes, trying to drive away the tiredness that seeped through his bones and into his head. Vincent looked over to the pile of files he had to sort through, sighing, he went over to brew himself a nice, warm cup of coffee.
“Fuck.” Vincent muttered, seeing the sputtering of the old machine. He sighed, rubbing his forehead in agitation. He knew he should’ve replaced the damn machine months ago but he didn’t. And now he’s seeing the fruit of his labour. Maybe today was his lucky day. Maybe he’d get to talk to the cute owner of the coffee shop. The older man exhaled deeply, pulling on a black sweater, one of his nicer ones along with a black trench coat.
The weather didn’t seem to be letting up soon and he wasn’t fond of freezing.
Vincent made his way down the stairs of his apartment, walking across the street and towards the shop. He stopped for a minute, breathing deeply, he didn’t want to come across as a stalker and he sincerely hoped that the cute girl didn’t notice his obvious staring. He pulled the door open, walking into the shop, surprised to see it busy.
“Oh my god.” Helene whispered, her jaw dropping as she noticed the silver haired man walk in. She nudges the younger woman beside her.
“What?” (Y/n) asked her, not in the mood to listen to another one of Helene’s rants on the cute guy that just walked in. (Y/n) stood up from where she was crouching and turned to look in Helene’s line of direction, only for her jaw to drop as well. The man that she had been admiring for the past few weeks was even more beautiful up close. His hair fell so perfectly over his forehead and the sweater he wore just did something for him. Not that he wasn’t perfect already.
Vincent looked at her, eyes crinkling as a small smile donned his lips as he made his way up to the counter.
“Hello.” Vincent greeted her politely, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. God she was even more beautiful up close. Big doe eyes looking up at him from behind the counter making him forget why he was here in the first place.
“Oh hello! Welcome to Café of Curiosity! How can I help you today?” The young woman chirped happily, looking at Vincent. Well, she wasn’t really looking, she was admiring him. Vincent lost his train of thoughts for a small second. He wanted to hear her voice for the rest of his life.
“Café of Curiosity?” He asked.
“Mhm. It’s because there’s many coffee flavors that intrigue curiosity that we offer!” Helene chirps in and both of them turn to look at her. (Y/n) shooting her a sharp glare while the older man just looks at her and nods before turning his attention to the woman before him.
“Right then. I’ll just get a plain black coffee and a croissant, please.” Vincent tells the young woman in front of him, nodding at his choices.
“Going for the basics?” She asks, not looking up at him from the screen. Vincent hums in answer.
“Right… May I grab a name for the order?” She asks him kindly, offering him a sugary sweet smile.
“Oh I’m sorry! It’s Vincent.” (Y/n) laughed at his expression, a deer in headlights. Vincent felt warmth rush up to his neck and into his cheeks, no doubt looking like a beetroot. He’s sure he’s embarrassed himself and ruined all his chances while the woman opposite him thought that he was endearing and charming, in an awkward way. She nodded and gestured for him to wait by the other side of the counter.
“He’s cute, no?” Helene nudged the younger girl who only smiled. Helene knew though, she always knew. She looked up at the man, Vincent, who was looking at her co-worker and smiled.
“Well, I’m not handing him his order.” Helene exclaimed, moving to greet the person at the counter.
“What why?!” (Y/n) asked, eyebrows furrowed together and a small pout on her lips.
“Because, my dear, I doubt I’m the one he’s here to see.” Helene winked, pushing the younger girl forward gently. Vincent smiled awkwardly, fiddling with his phone, opening the photos app and settings, trying to look like he was doing something other than staring.
“Vincent!” She called out, capturing his attention. The said man looked up at her, smiling. He seemed to be doing a lot of that near her. He went up to the counter to grab his drink and croissant, hands briefly touching.
“Oh, thank you!” He responded, grabbing his coffee off the counter. The younger woman nodded her head in response. Having nothing else to say, he awkwardly turned around and left, cursing himself for not saying more. Inside the café, (Y/n) was doing the same, shaking her head in disapproval at her stupidity for not saying anything.
“You know, he’s still outside.” Helene pointed out, seeing the mop of silver waiting for the light to turn green. (Y/n) looked at her before smirking, she grabbed a tiramisu, tossing it in a box before running out.
“Vincent!” The young woman yelled out, waving her hand for him to pause, and he did. Vincent halted in his tracks, waiting for the woman to catch up.
“You forgot this.” She panted out, one hand holding the box out to him while the other was on her knee, trying to catch her breath.
“Oh… I didn’t order this.” He told her, trying to turn it down, thinking that she had mistaken him for someone else.
“Think of it as a treat! From me to you.” She told him, shoving the box in his hands and bolting before he had a chance to say anything else. The older man huffed out a small laugh at their interaction and made his way home, not thinking much of it. On his short walk home, he couldn’t get the sound of her voice out of his head.
Vincent Renzi was utterly enamoured by this siren of a woman.
He set the box down, opening it up only to see something that surprised him. Inside the box was the woman’s phone number and name.
“Call me… or not.” He whispered out loud, laughing a bit. He hadn’t even known her properly yet she was already weaseling her way into his heart. He saved the number in his phone, not quite ready to shoot her a text yet.
This had to be the best day possible for him. All because he forgot to replace his stupid coffee maker.
Deciding that the weather wasn’t going to change its mind anytime soon, Vincent decided to drink and work outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Only to see that she was waiting for him, in the window of her café, waving at him shyly before signaling her hand into a phone. Vincent nodded, truly intending to know the woman more, hopefully over a nice dinner and a glass of wine. She smiled before turning on her heels and rushing back to the café.
Oh dear, he hadn’t even known her yet he was in so deep.
Tagging: @caramel-hufflepuff @weird-civilian @hypocritic-trash-baby @ynguklvr @jake-g-lockley
#vincent renzi x reader#Vincent Renzi x reader fluff#Vincent Renzi fic#Vincent Renzi x you#Vincent Renzi#swann Arlaud#Swann Arlaud x reader fluff#Swann Arlaud x you#anatomy of a fall#anatomie d'une chute#slice of life#meet cute
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It’s been a bit since I wrote about feral!Bucky but I genuinely cannot put into words how much Steve (and me) loves him
Bucky now associates physical touch with pain, with torture. He hides from visitors, scampers away from touch, and never lets anyone get close to him. Nevertheless, Steve wakes up from a nap one day with Bucky curled into his side, and Steve is pretty sure that if he could, Bucky would be purring like a kitten.
“Bucky?” Steve asks tentatively, trying not to spook him. Bucky doesn’t seem to be upset by Steve sudden consciousness, instead just making a small noise and wrapping his arms around Steve’s chest possessively. He mumbles something that sounds like “Stevie”.
“You alright, angel?” Steve asks with a grin, confused but pleased with the change in Bucky’s demeanor. He knew Bucky had always been closer with Steve, trusting him more than others, but this was still new territory. He slides his arms around Bucky, which causes Bucky to make a happy noise that Steve hasn’t heard in years.
————
Also, maybe Bucky’s a bit territorial now that he’s been given more freedom. The poor thing doesn’t know what to do with himself. However, after consulting a bunch of psychiatrists and Dr. Banner, Steve knows what he needs to do. He empties out an old walk in closet, and fits it with as many soft things as he can find. He buys as many plushies as he can afford, and stuffs the closet with them. He remembers how much Bucky hates harsh lights now and decides to buy those pretty string lights that Peter has in his room at the tower. He shows it to Bucky when it’s finished and they’ve both had a good day.
“It’s all your own space, Buck. I’m never going to come in here without your permission. I swear it.” Steve says, holding Bucky’s hand, which lately Bucky won’t let go of.
“It’s… mine?” Bucky says, slowly, tentatively. He’s scared that all of this will be taken away.
“Yeah, Buck. Yours.” Steve says, as comforting and securely as I can, trying to make his confidence transfer to Bucky.
Steve is tackled in a hug, and there are tears wetting his shirt. He hugs Bucky back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
“Thank you.” The whisper is so soft, so small, that it’s almost imperceptible. But Steve hears it. He’ll always hear Bucky.
————
Then, of course, there’s the moment when Steve’s telling Bucky about life back in Brooklyn, a topic that Bucky is very interested in. He’s going on about something that they did to piss off Becca (“we were teenagers, Buck. The best entertainment we had was making that poor girl mad.”) when Bucky stops him.
“I remember.”
Steve drops the pencil he’s holding. “You… You do?” There’s so much hope in his voice. There’s unshed tears in Bucky’s eyes, and a small smile on his face.
“Yes. Rebecca. My Becca.” Bucky’s smile gets bigger, as does Steve. Steve rushes to his side, hugging him. Bucky’s crying, and Steve’s not far behind him. Bucky laughs, and it is the best goddamn sound Steve Rogers has ever heard. “She was so mad. I can’t believe we did that.” He giggles, and it makes Steve feel like maybe everything will be okay.
previous feral!Bucky
Me too! I am such a fucking sucker for feral Bucky
I am beside myself thinking about Bucky being so touch adverse only for Steve to wake up and find him tucked into his side 😫 and there's something so special, too, about Bucky having moments in recovery where he's so suddenly more himself. It makes it so much more painful to see the rapid realignment. It's as if he's found two loose ends and knotted them together as quickly as his fingers would allow to ensure that he doesn't misplace them again. Gah! It's so just 🤌🏻ouch🤌🏻
Oh my god!! The territorial thing, yes! I've had this in my notes for actual years, waiting for me to come back to it and do something with it:
Sometimes, during Bucky's recovery, he latches onto things with this ferocity, holding until his fingers hurt, distraught when he accidentally breaks it, if the object of desire is fragile, claiming "mine." He won't let anyone touch it, not unless it's over his dead body. Steve has genuinely never been so distraught and proud of someone for grabbing a mug and declaring it as their own. Bucky deserves to have his own things.
Same wavelength, lmao
That's so fucking sweet, though! I love the idea of Bucky having his own space. (And I love the idea of Peter's room in the tower having fairy lights. Fuck yeah.)
Ah! That last part is the fucking best. Steve will never be as eager to be interrupted as he is when he's in the middle of a story, and Bucky stops him because he remembers. He doesn't need to tell him again, he remembers. Steve could fucking kiss him. Steve will kiss him. Steve will pick him up and spin him around, clutching his waist all the while, a huge grin on his face.
In conclusion:
Thank you so, so much for this!!
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Chapter 14: Into the lion's den /// Azriel X F!Reader
Summary: Y/N enters Koschei's lair and finally confirms some suspicions
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: Again mentions of trauma and grief.
Notes: I'm so glad that I have almost all the chapters written cuz my fingers are fucking useless now and I can't write 🙄
Main Masterlist
Worlds Apart Masterlist
The dark living room was immediately illuminated by faelights, papers scattered around the table, potions and a liquid simmering in a cauldron near the fire. She scrunched her nose at the rotten smell. A screeching, like a trapped creature sounded somewhere behind the closed doors that led to the basement, she shivered thinking what could be suffering in his hands.
Drawings adorned the walls, receipts and terrifying creatures. Her breath hitched as she recognized the circle with wyrd marks used to summon the ridderak. This was even more scary than Baba Yellowleg’s tent, the Matron would send her there regularly to check on the older witch and her home always made her bones cold.
“So..” He cleared his throat, those golden eyes turned to her direction, pinning her in place. “Tell me what. What troubles your heart?” He once again extended his hand and she quietly placed it onto his.
Mantyx almost gasped with the swirling of emotions that hit him when he touched her skin. Anger, hatred, pain, grief, pain was what burned brighter in that array of feelings that clouded her mind. He tried to take a look but he was met with a wall made of pure steel, unbreakable, unbendable and impenetrable.
But another thing caught his attention, singing beautifully to no one hear, a mating bond stood, he had learned everything about it in the years he was trapped there. A bond shared by two people that was stronger than everything, once the bond was accepted nothing could break it. He tugged at the string lightly, watching closely as she startled, her free hand flying to her heart. She didn’t understand what this was.
Near that cabin, a worried shadowsinger yelped in surprise as he felt a tug in his chest, like someone was pulling a string tied to his soul. Lucien looked at him with a raised eyebrow, asking him if he was alright. Azriel just shook his head, hand rubbing circles in his chest, in a soothing manner. His eyes focused back on the cabin door, he wanted to go there and kick it down, rescuing her but he knew he couldn’t.
“I see that you lost someone very important to you.” He pointed it out, going for the easiest approach, usually wasn’t hard to know what troubled people, they were too simple to read, always thinking they were good at hiding their emotions and thinking of him as a god for being able to read them like a cooking book.
“I lost everything.” She quietly replied, Y/N never really opened up to anyone after the war, just brushing their concerns off and focusing on her work to suffocate those drowning feelings. “I lost my sister, the only person that truly loved me, I couldn't even say goodbye. I lost my way, I lost myself after she was gone, and I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to what I was.”
Mantyx looked at her, the despair pungent on the tip of his tongue. The shadows in her eyes darkened as she frowned, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. He took a deep breath, feeling all of her negative emotions fill the void in his chest, he had to suppress a smirk at it, he fed from negative emotions, draining them and leaving the person numb.
“You can’t ever go back, all you can do is keep going and adapt to the change.” He offered and she scoffed.
“I would give anything, do anything to get her back.” Mantyx approached her. It was like the light couldn’t reach it, being sucked into a black hole, not reflecting. If it wasn’t for his proximity she wouldn't even have noticed.
But there it was, resting with an unsettling melody, the wyrd key that opened the gate atop Ramiel, what she needed to get home. She couldn't risk getting it just now, or else he would kill her and all of their efforts would be useless.
“What if I told you that I can bring her back?” He offered and her eyes lifted from the key to his gold orbs. She never knew about the extent of the other Kings powers, if Erawan was that powerful she imagined how powerful Mantyx and Orcus would be.
“You can do it?” She inquired, doubt started to coat her thoughts, she missed Asterin, what if she could see her one last time, or even better, get her back fully?
“You just need to do me a simple favor in return.” She closed her eyes, that was the only way. She shook her head in agreement.
“What do you need?” She opened her eyes, determination burning in that gaze. “I’ll do anything.”
“Bring me Nesta Archeron.” He said and she nodded, Mantyx smiled. His hand extended towards the door that slowly opened to reveal the green island he lived in. “I’ll be waiting for your return.”
Y/N bowed to him, her eyes tracing the key that moved up and down with each breath he gave. She turned around, slowly walking outside, she could still feel his eyes on her when she crossed the bridge, so she didn’t dare to look to where she knew they would be, she kept walking forward until her frame disappeared from his line of sight. Just then she let out the breath she was holding.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Azriel and the others reached her halfway back to the Manor, she hadn't even noticed she had walked so much, her tensed muscles and shivering body were the only indications of the fear she had felt alone in that cabin. Azriel touched her arm, making her spin in her heels, collapsing against his chest. Shuddering breaths left her lips as she tried to calm herself.
“Did he hurt you?” She shook her head and Azriel breathed with relief, his shadows moved around her in a protecting way, ready to strike at anyone who dared get too close to her.
“We should go back, we don’t know what is lurking around in those woods.” Lucien advised, also worried about the fragile form that clung to Azriel for dear life.
They all started to head back, being surprised by the giant wyvern baring his teeth at them, poison dripping from his fangs, he looked anxious, like he felt all of her distress through the connection he shared with his rider, and by the way she pushed Azriel out of the way, stumbling until her chest and forehead were pressed against his nose, he probably felt.
Meraxes instantly relaxed with her touch, sniffing her scent and declaring she was alright. Y/N sobbed against him, her hands rubbing his leathery skin up and down, until she calmed herself down.
“I’m okay, I promise.” She breathed and the wyvern nodded, giving one last look to the males before stepping aside and allowing their access to the house. She let go of him, following the rest of them inside, plopping herself on the couch.
“Why did you go inside? You could be dead now.” Lucien slowly started, worry filled his voice, Y/N had become someone important to him and he couldn’t fathom the idea of her being killed by that damned monster.
“We needed answers.” She simply replied, shrugging.
“And did you get them?” Jurian asked, leaning against the wall that led to the kitchen.
“His name is Mantyx, the middle brother of Erawan and Orcus, a Valg King.” She started, all of the males looked at her. “He was the one who summoned the ridderak that attacked me, he was after Nesta and her powers.”
“Does he have a key?” Azriel asked, his eyebrows furrowed as the engines in his brain worked.
“He carries it around his neck.” Lucien cursed loudly, how would they get it?
“How did you get out?” Jurian once again asked all the right questions.
“I promised him that I would get Nesta.” Azriel's eyes widened. “I just needed to get out to tell you all this, chill.” She said to him, her blue eyes piercing him back in place and he didn’t dare to argue.
“What do we do now?” Lucien inquired, rubbing his temples.
“I don’t know about you, but i’ll have a bath, i’m feeling disgusting.” She said getting up, leaving the males behind her.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Her chest ached as she sat in the scalding water, trying to rub all those feelings away from her, but it was useless. She then reached for the book Morrigan had found in the Hewn City, not having time to read it in the trip until now. She opened the book and focused on the fancy handwriting, allowing her brain to shut down from the real world and just pay attention to the words in those pages.
“It was during the night that he came, talking with a sweet voice, promises of a better world and absolution to those who bowed to him and allowed his angels a home. The god of conquest was how they called him.
He brought her, with dark hair and dark eyes, she feeded from life and used the remains to build weapons made of human bones. They called her The Weaver, and her twin, The Bone Carver, one more terrifying than the other. They weren’t angels, they were the gods of death, draining life from the earth and eating our souls.
They talked about how lucky we were, claiming to be princes and princesses from their homeworld. No one knew how they came or where they came from, but all we knew was that it was all related to that necklace, made of a dark stone and with an unknown shape. They had come from the north, many guessed they were a plague sent by the Night Court to terrorise us, but even the High Lord feared them, he couldn't control them, no one could, so they took what they pleased.
It was Celeste Vanserra, the Fireborn that brought us hope, the most powerful fire carrier the world has ever seen. She locked The Bone Carver with the help of the cauldron in the prison first. This made the fae wars easier, but their army was too big to be brought down, so they had to change their strategy.
Divide and conquest is what they called it. They managed to separate The Weaver, and once again, with the help of the cauldron, Celeste and her fire locked Stryga in the woods, in a cabin no one dared to get close to. Whenever a general fell, their army fell with them.
The High Lords followed Celeste to the battlefield, following her command and doing what she said. The final battle was in the lake, where Celeste used her powers to create a fire circle around Koschei and his monsters, trapping him inside, not knowing this was his biggest weakness, her fire was the only thing that could kill him. But before Celeste could, he killed her, piercing her heart with a sword.
The High Lords seeing their strongest fall, decided that they weren’t enough to kill Koschei, so they used the cauldron imbued by their powers to trap his soul to the island. As long as this world still exists, Koschei cannot be killed, his soul is bound to the Earth itself. Only the power of the cauldron or the fire of Celeste can free him from his prison and finally kill him.
With their failure to end the biggest threat our world has ever seen, they erased Celeste’s name from history. If no one remembered her, no one would remember how weak they were compared to Koschei. But her fire was still alive in the blood of her offspring, and the family Vanserra is the closest we have to a chance of killing him, unfortunately those who don’t learn their history tend to repeat it.”
Y/N gasped, the water already cold as she discarded the book and jumped out of the tub, opening the door to her and Azriel’s room. He sat on the bed, eyeing her up and down, following the droplets of water that ran down her curves, but her sombre expression brought his eyes back to her face, ignoring the temptation of looking down.
“What happened?” He asked and she took a deep breath.
“I know how to kill him.”
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Taglist: @fieldofdaisiies @blackgirlmagicforever @a-frog-with-a-laptop @going-through-shit @asweetblueberry2
@roses-r-red54330 @mis-lil-red @sheblogs @hibye02 @impossibelle
@glitterypirateduck @zeroangelo13 @sekiro1310 @nelapeach14 @annamariereads16
@just-here-reading @celestialend @donttellthecats @scatteredstardustt @snoopyspace
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@a-cup-of-nightshade @faridathefairy @bubybubsters @krowiathemythologynerd @joey-hoey
#azriel#shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#moonlightazriel#night court#velaris#acotar#azriel shadowsinger#sarahjmaas#azriel acotar#azriel x oc#worlds apart fic
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hi! I've been reading through your blog and you seem to give decent advice, so I figured I'd try my luck at something that's been annoying me recently.
So to start, I'm 17ftm (no testosterone), I have had many mental health struggles on the past 5 years and my parents don't really trust me or take me seriously. And I have never had sex with a penis haver so no possibility of pregnancy at any point.
Okay so my problem is that I never get consistent periods and almost always skip more than a month in between. They actually started pretty consistent when I was 13 but became extremely irregular after I gained a lot of unexpected weight (I was on a high dose of antipsycotics which I believe caused this). I skipped 6 months when I was 14. Since my parents don't take me seriously, they kind of softly assume I'm exaggerating or just not counting the days right ever time I bring it up and it made me so frustrated that last year I finally got a period tracker and committed to filling it out daily. I finally decided to go back and check how long it's been because I felt like it had been forever since I actually bled and uh. Guess what I was right 😬
Since the new year, I logged myself as "spotting" on February 7th and January 22. I marked myself down as "light bleeding" on the 18th. Every other day this year there has been no bleeding. Is this abnormal??? My mom keeps saying things like "I skip months all the time" but it's just really unsettling me I feel like something's wrong. I've also had period-like cramps a few times since the year began and at one point they got really bad, like a 7/10 but again I haven't bled even a little bit except those three days I just want to know I'm not being unreasonable.
I do plan to talk to my doctor, my dad set an appointment for next week (I didn't tell him what it was for & he didn't ask which was nice) but while my GP is usually pretty good I'm worried she'll dismiss me like my mom always does & I'm worried I'll phrase something wrong or not describe things correctly. (I have the kind of autism that gives me psychic damage when people don't understand me hence the multiple paragraphs to explain a fairly simple issue... Sorry about that btw)
Thanks for your time and I hope I wasn't too annoying🪻
hi anon,
irregular periods are pretty typical when you first begin menstruating, but the fact that they haven't leveled out by now could definitely be indicative of some kind of complication in your reproductive system that's definitely best to know about sooner rather than later. I'm sorry your parents have been dismissive of you, but if your GP is generally reasonable I'm sure she'll understand why you're concerned; missing your period for months at a time definitely falls into what's considered irregular and warrants further investigation, and it sounds like you've been documenting your experiences enough to back up that that's the case.
I hope everything goes well and you can find some answers <3
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OC interview
Thanks to @bloodmoonloveletter here, @mk-writes-stuff here, @illarian-rambling here, and @elsie-writes here!
Last did Wade here.
Doing Jazlyn now because I don't talk about her enough and I'd like to develop her character more!
Are you named after anyone?
“Nope. The one and only, girl. I'm just Jazlyn!”
When was the last time you cried?
“Oh, pfft! I don't cry. Maybe out of sheer boredom listening to Dr. Ass-ghar ramble on about her rules and how I'm not following them! Like, girl, I can't help that I have fire powers and lit something on fire! That would be like getting mad that Gabe got a little dirty. Oh, and her meetings are the wooorst. Yeah crying for my life in there.” [It was during Ewan's clarinet solo actually]
Do you have kids?
“Girl, what? I'm not even eighteen yet! Close... I'd love kids, honestly. A lot of them! I'd have so much fun with them!”
Do you use sarcasm a lot?
“Look, I know I come across as someone who uses sarcasm, but I'd rather just flat out say what I'm thinking. Why be like ‘wow that was so riveting’ when I could say, ‘this is the most boring crap I have ever seen in my entire life’? So much easier, no mental hoops. Besides, Ewan is the most oblivious to sarcasm I have ever seen.”
What’s the first thing you notice about people?
“Their confidence level. I can usually tell how someone feels about themselves based on how they stand. Posture is the key, but also what they're doing with their hands.”
What’s your eye colour?
“Brown. With some golden flecks when the light hits them right, according to Ewan.”
Scary movies or happy endings?
“Easy, scary movies. This question is stupid - they aren't opposites. However, nothing is more fun than a horror movie. Love getting the blood pumping. Yelling at the characters for being massive dummies is also the best. Horror is the most entertaining to watch with others. Ewan thank the Lord is also a horror enthusiast. We make a habit to have at least one or two horror movie nights a month.”
Any special talents?
“Oh, several. I am pretty athletic. Took cheerleading a while back and now I am on my high school basketball team. At first, I wasn't sure I would like basketball - my coach in middle school pulled me aside and recommended it due to my height, but I love it now. I am also getting pretty good at learning archery. Lighting the arrows on fire makes that more exciting. I am also pretty good at martial arts and my pyrokinesis. Working on breathing fire without burning my throat. Thank the Lord I have Wade to heal me so I can try again!”
Where were you born?
“I was born in flippin' Utah. I know--lily white state, you'd never guess. Ewan and I plan to move somewhere else once we can. Can you believe he was born in Alium? That ain't fair.”
Do you have any pets?
“Ewan and I plan to one day get a dog. We have been planning on moving in together for a while.”
What sort of sports do you play?
“Like I said, basketball. I would love to learn how to play this Alii fireball sport. It's very similar to basketball, but pyrokinetics pass around fire. That sounds like so much fun, man. Did you know they have to keep a healer at each game because not all pyrokinetics are immune to fire? And the audience can get hit too if they're not careful! This sounds like such a fun sport.”
How tall are you?
“I have finally passed six-foot-three. Alii heights are a blessing and a curse.”
What was your favourite subject in school?
“I hope you tell me PE counts as a subject cause I ain't saying anything else. School sucks, girl. I have gotten detention for the lamest reasons imaginable.”
What is your dream job?
“I would love to be in sales. Something about convincing people to do what I want is inticing. Planning on getting a marketing degree when I go to college next year.”
Tagging @leahnardo-da-veggie @eccaiia @mysticstarlightduck @monstrouswrites @mrbexwrites @gottestod-writes @willtheweaver @winterandwords @i-can-even-burn-salad @elizaellwrites @chauceryfairytales @somethingclevermahogony @faeriecinna + anyone else who wants to!
TSP intro
TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites
Blanks below the cut
Are you named after anyone? When was the last time you cried? Do you have kids? Do you use sarcasm a lot? What’s the first thing you notice about people? What’s your eye colour? Scary movies or happy endings? Any special talents? Where were you born? Do you have any pets? What sort of sports do you play? How tall are you? What was your favourite subject in school? What is your dream job?
^for an easy copy and paste
#the secret portal#tsp#teaspoon#jazlyn nyambura#oc interview#oc tag game#writing tag game#my oc#writers on tumblr#writing community#writers of tumblr#writing on tumblr#writeblr#writeblr community
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