#i've had this for literally half a year and only FINALLY finished it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

non-stop-imagines · 2 months

Text

Wedding Night

From this request 🤍

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: In which it's your's and Charles' wedding night.

Word Count: ~4.9k words

Warning: Smut (p in v; the fluffiest smut I've ever written and I'm a big ol' softy), fingering, oral (fem receiving), accidental orgasm denial, aftercare, reader first time, Charles is very sweet and caring, words virgin/virginity NOT used but obviously implied, Wife used a quite a bit, online translator French, Minors DNI!!! 18+

A/N: Haha! See told you all I could do it! You guys have been so supportive and caring I literally have absolutely no idea how to thank you. I'm just glad I can finally get this out and that reading it back didn't make me cringe as much as I though it would. Hopefully like I said in the past, this sparks my motivation, but for now I'm just gonna do this one step at a time. Thank you to the anon who requested this. Thank you everyone for your patience and kindness. Hope you all enjoy! Love you all! 💖💛💖💛

Translations: ma femme=my wife; d'accord=okay; Pour votre mari=for your husband;Tu es tellement serrée, ma chère=you're so tight, my dear;Je t'aime tant, ma femme=I love you so much, my wife;Ma belle, très belle femme=my beautiful, beautiful wife

Masterlist

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You were a vision to Charles as you stood in the entry to the en suite bathroom in the Honeymoon suite you two were staying in for the night before whisking away to Italy for your honeymoon. You were only in a simple white, lacy lingerie set gifted to you by your best friend who had the joy of being your maid of honor. As she gifted it, she teased you lightly about your wedding night being your first time and that she "Doesn't expect it to last the night with how long you made Charles wait."

"Cherie, you look...wow." Charles, already just in his underwear, admired you from where he stood across the room. When you two first got to the room you were quick to start the process of stripping down while making out, but your brain was swirling with nerves you decided it was best for you to take leave to the bathroom to finish stripping and adjusting the set you had on, so in that time Charles took the liberty of stripping down to his underwear as well. As he approached you, he eyes danced rapidly over your body, grinning at how innocent and nervous your widened brown eyes made your face look, how the lace gracing your brown skin made you look even more delicate than usual. You were an angel. His angel. His wife.

"You really like it?" You were simultaneously closed and open to him with your feet twisting inward and your posture curling in on itself but your arms wrapped behind your back. Charles steadily made his way towards you and gently brought your arms to wrap around his torso so he could bring his hands to your jaw to lift your head up to meet his lips for a short kiss.

"Yes. Of course. You look beautiful, ma femme." He moved his hands to your shoulder to pull you in even closer and began peppering kisses along your jaw, leading down your neck so he could leave love bites at the base of your neck where it leads to your shoulder and collarbone. He uses his tongue to soothe each bite he leaves, a feeling that you've loved from the beginning and that has been the high point of many make out sessions through 2 and a half years you and Charles dated. He adjusted your arms, bringing them up to wrap around his neck so he's able to bring his hands to your waist to pull you in closer with each heavenly sounding mewl you let out. He begins to walk you backwards to the bed, switching to the other side of your neck to continue his love bite assault. The feeling of the bed on the back of your legs was your only indication that you two had made it to your destination, and with out breaking the contact his lips had on your skin, he lowered you onto the white sheets of the hotel sheets, the heavy comforter tossed out of the way, and only then did he back stop his relentless attack on your neck and to hover over you, eyes taking a minute to admire all of your features.

"You're my husband." Your smile up at him was full of pure joy, attracting Charles to lower down to give you another deep kiss. The realization made you warm and fuzzy, and allowed your nerves to subside briefly.

"And you're my beautiful wife. And I finally get to make my wife feel so good." He seemed to moan out the second sentence, contining to kiss along your collarbone and making his way down the valley between your breasts. "Is this okay?" You nod to him, meeting his gaze as he waited at your chest. "I need you to speak, Cherie."

"Oh, um, yes. That-that's fine." You hold intense eye contact with your husband as he pushes down one of the cups of your bra, freeing your boob and sensually kissing around your nipple before taking the nub in his mouth, tongue swirling around it. It took a moment for the feeling to register, you brain initially focusing on how exposed you were, how you've never been this exposed to another person before, but once his tongue began to work around your nipple, your head was thrown back into the bed as you pushed your chest up into Charles mouth, quiet, airy moans escaping your lips.

"Feels good?" The smile Charles' shines up at you when you turn your attention back to him has you melting, or at least that's what you convinced yourself as you feel warmth and moisture begin to develop between your legs.

"Mhmm, so good." You push your chest back up to him and the vibration that comes with his chuckle as he begins to suck at your chest again has you moaning a bit louder. This action continues a bit longer, with him switching to your other breast to give it equal attention but soon his lips leave your chest continue down yours stomach.

Anytime Charles wasn't focusing on an action, his eyes were trained on yours, trying to gauge how you're feeling and in general getting lost in the haze of your chocolate eyes. So, as he kissed down your torso, his blue eyes never left your face, and yet his kisses were placed perfectly. His lips lingered for a moment at the top of your pelvis, pressing a long kiss at the hem of your panties before continuing down, skipping over your pussy and reconnecting his lips to your inner thigh.

"I'm going to move these over, amor. Okay?" Charles' voice was just above a whisper as his piercing eyes waited for a response. Truthfully he was dying to taste you. If he wasn't waiting for your approval he would've already been tongue deep in you, the growing wet spot from your arousal on your underwear not making it any easier for him. But he was patient, pressing intermittent kisses to your upper inner thigh as he waited.

"O-okay..." Your hands immediately went to grip the pure white bedsheets beneath you, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering up a frenzy. Your first instinct to bury your head in the sheets beneath you as well, just wanting to get everything over with, but against your better judgement, you kept your eyes on Charles, lips slightly parted as you watched him smile brightly up at you before focusing his attention on your covered pussy again. He darted his tongue out to lightly lick his lips as he took one finger and hooked it onto the damp white fabric, moving it to the side to finally expose you to him, pussy glistening from your juices. The sight was nearly hypnotic to him, eyes tracing along your folds, enticing him to at least reach out a touch you...

"Wait! Charles?" You called to him panicked, making him stop in his tracks and focus his attention back on your, now visibly worried, face.

"Oui, mon amour?" Charles props himself up onto his elbow a bit more so you weren't having to look down between your legs to speak to him.

"What, um, what are you gonna do?" Your view of Charles was borderline sinful, his pupils dilated, lips glistening and swollen from their relentless attack down your body, hair askew, and all of the love and adoration he had for you shining through his gaze up at you. You loved this man so much.

"I just wanted to taste you, ma cherie. But if you don't want me to..." You could tell by the way Charles shifted his body, he was about to move back up your body, but you stop him, literally putting your hand out to stop him.

"No, I just was wondering. Please, Charlie...keep going." Yout hand gravitates to his hair, lightly pushing some of it back. You could have photographed and framed the smile Charles gave you before he rehooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him, and dove in. He had to fight hard to keep himself from devouring you like a starved man, but he slowed himself down, allowing his tongue to slowly drag through your labia, circle around your clit and end in a light suck on the nub.

Charles wished his brain could record and store the moans and whimpers you let out upon initial contact. Your hips immediately started to buck toward the sensation of his tongue, surprised, high pitched moans being pushed from your diaphragm. One of your hands that initially had a death grip on the sheets had let go and flown straight to his hair, pushing him into your cunt even more. He was amused at your sudden eagerness, humming out a chuckle that sent a vibration through you pussy and caused a shocked squeal to be pulled from you.

"It's good?" Charles disconnects his mouth from you, using a hand to continue to rub your clit. You didn't think the image of him between your legs could get even more pornographic, but seeing his wide blue eyes and bright, satisfied smile with the welcome addition of your juices coating his lips and chin was a different level. Even still, you had no idea how much Charles was basking in this moment, finally being able to taste you, hear your moans and screams. He was finally able to satisfy you and he wanted to make sure you enjoyed it.

"Yes...fu- so good. So good. Please keep going, baby." Charles didn't hesitate to go back to tasting you, putting extra focus on your clit, letting the long languid licks up your entire entrance be small breaks in the intense feeling resulting from his devoted attention to the body part that had your toes curling and your thighs threatening to close in on your husband.

"Can I use my fingers on you?" The question was abrupt, and while you were slightly aware of the multitude of ways to satisfy yourself, fingers wasn't one you ever thought to try. Charles saw the confusion in your face and lifted back on to his elbows but still allowed his fingers to test your entrance. "I'll go slow. One at a time. And you tell me if your don't like it or want me to stop, bon?" His hand continued to move, the gentleness of his words and the care in his eyes were enough to quell your nerves again for you to nonverbally answer him. "Words, amor. Speak to me."

"Oh, yeah. Um, yes, that's fine." You giggle nervously, and smile with Charles before he goes back down to place gentle kisses on your inner upper thigh, closer to your pussy but still allowing him to see your face as he pushes in his middle finger. Your eyes initially widened at the feeling, the small amount of stretch that comes with his finger being pressed inside you, but the pleasure that sets in and when he begins to slowly pump it in and out had your rolling your head and eyes back letting out a strangled whine.

"That's it, mon amor. Make your pretty noises for me. Pour votre mari." Charles goes back to sucking on your clit, incorporating the feeling that already had you seeing spots before he began stretching you out with his fingers. You didn't know what you expected from Charles in this moment, but it wasn't this. He was soft, dominant, patient, with the slightest bit of frantic feralness that show how bad he wanted this. To finally get to be with you in the most intimate way, and as his wife no less. This was an absolute dream to him, and you could tell from his performance.

"Oh, oh Charles..." This initially comes out as a silky moan, ringing like a silver bell in Charles' ears, but it slowly got more frantic and panicked as your hips began to buck into Charles' face like they had a mind of their own. It was like all of your senses were heightened, a sharp pleasureable feeling pushing against a proverbial dam that was starting to burst open. "Charles, Charles. Wait! Wait!" Charles heads your warning, immediately stopping and removing his fingers and mouth from you, pushing himself up from the bed so he was still kneeling between your legs. Your hips continued to buck uncontrollably, eyes squeezing shut and hands gripping the sheets, nails threatening to tear through them, fighting what could only be an orgasm you weren't prepared for.

"Are you alright, cherie?" Charles crawls his way back up the bed, kissing and nipping at your neck again. He smelled like you, and while knowing that was odd to say the least, you couldn't deny that it was freaking sexy.

"Yeah. Um, I just-what was-" Charles had crawled up to lay at your side pulling you into him by your waist, caressing your side as his thigh got slightly to close to your excessively sensitive pussy.

"I think you were about to cum, mon amor. Why didn't you let yourself?" He pushed some of your hair that had stuck to your sweating face back behind your ear, smiling at the fucked out, doe eyed face you made, brown skin hiding a slight blush from the general over heating of your body.

"I've never- when ever I did try-you know, um, grinding on my pillow or whatever- I felt so silly cause I didn't know what I was doing so I stopped before anything got too...intense." You had since squeezed your thighs shut, still slightly sensitive from your accidentally denied orgasm, but still wet and aroused, mind making note of the feeling of his bulge against the front of your thigh and briefly flashing to the thought of him inside you, what it would feel like.

"You shouldn't have felt silly, mon amor. I'm just glad you feel you can tell me about it..." He tilts your head up so he could kiss your nose then allowed himself to get lost in your eyes as he took a second to think. "I didn't want you to cum then anyway." You couldn't help but be confused by his confession.

"Well then how..." You realized the answer to your own admittedly stupid question quickly, earning you another kiss on the nose and then one on the forehead.

"You're very cute, you know that?" He lifts your chin up further so he's able to go back to kissing you, first a simple singular kiss, then it became slow and sensual, like you were his favorite flavor of ice cream. Your brain always got clouded whenever he initiated deep makout sessions like this, but this was amplified 10-fold. You don't know when his lips began to trail down your abdomen, but all of a sudden he was back at your the hem of your lacy lingerie underwear, hooking his fingers in them prepared to pull down. "I'm gonna take these off, okay?"

"Okay..." Your voice was just over a whisper, just loud enough for Charles to make out your word allowing him to remove your underwear, the cool hotel room air hitting your glistening pussy, and somehow making you wetter. Charles pushes himself off the bed with his knees to remove his own undergarment, and you propped up on your elbows, gnawing at your bottom lip as you watched. You've seen very few penises in your life, usually on accident and you would quickly avert your eyes, but Charles' had your full attention. It was...pretty? There wasn't much of a difference in color since he was already a bit paler him self, and the tip was about the color of his lips, a muted light pink, but with a ting of red. The tip was slightly shiny and your eyes were focusing enough to notice a bead of a thick liquid begin to slide down his cock head as he finished stepping out of his boxers. Your eyes followed the bounce of his dick as he moved, the underlying logistical question slowly making its way into your brain.

"You look worried, ma cherie. Are you okay? Do you want to stop?" He began to crawl he way back up your body, hands anchoring themselves on the bed right above your shoulders, eyes doing nothing but raking over your face again and again, being extra vigilant in looking for any sign of hesitation or just generally wanting to stop.

"No, no. I definitely do NOT want to stop. I'm just a little...scared. I don't want it to hurt." The face you were making as you voiced your concerns, eyebrows scrunched and lips a bit poutier than their normal fullness, gave Charles no choice but to give you light kisses in both places. Despite your worries, your core betrayed you, getting that much wetter as you thought about the act, especially with Charles dick so close to it.

"And it shouldn't hurt. Maybe at first a little, definitely never a lot or for a long time. Overall, it should feel good." He leans down to kiss you, lips savoring yours, but he could sense your hesitation. "How about...colors?" An immediate look of confusion graced your features, making Charles explain further. "Like, you tell me 'Red' to stop and... 'Pink' to wait a moment. It's a little more familiar, less serious than saying the actual words but still has the same effect. Is that okay with you?" You eyebrows unknotted and your eyes averted the intense, loving gaze of your husband as you quietly nodded to the suggestion.

"Yeah, that's fine." You squeaked out as you remembered the earlier instruction you received about using your words. Charles leans down to press another kiss to your lips, then retracts to line himself up with you, running his dick along your soaking wet folds because even through your worry, you could help but be aroused still. The further you got into your relationship with Charles, the more you thought about this feeling, bodies entwined, completely connected in the most intimate way. You still had a knot in your stomach though, fear of the unknown nagging at the back of your mind.

"I'm going to push in, okay." He made sure he was lined up before looking at your face, this time allowing your silent nod to suffice. He brought his head down so his forehead could touch yours and slowly began to push his dick inside of you, both of you watching intently, but once he started his eyes immediately shot back up to your face, you still watching.

First came a snap of pain as you let out a long, agonizing sobbing whine, then the slow increase of pressure, the combination of the 2 feelings having you yelling out "Pink!" before you could even think twice about it. As Charles promised before, his hips paused immediately when he heard the color, lifting his forehead from yours so he could get a good look at you.

"Okay, okay. I'll wait. Let me know when you want me to move again..." Charles was already out of breath just from the restraint he exhibited. You were so warm, so tight around the parts of him that were already inside of you. The feeling was everything he ever dreamed of and he wanted so much more, but his main focus was you. He wanted to do everything in his power to make tonight the best night of your life, and he'll be damned if he does anything to ruin it.

As the pain very quickly subsided, you still had the pressure to adjust to, the surprisingly tantalizing pressure. After that your brain registered the feeling of Charles dick grazing your walls, the points of pleasure that have never been stimulated until this moment, and the points further in that were screaming for there own taste. "Okay, y-you can move." Charles hesitates, scanning your face for doubt he is unable to find, then continues to press his hips forward. Your sobbing whine continues, not because of pain, but because the pleasure you were experiencing from being stretched out by Charles cock, from the delicious pressure on you felt between your hips, feeling all of the intenseness of having sex for the first time, making love to your husband, had your mind going a million miles an hour.

"Are you okay?" Charles had completely bottomed out at this point, adjusting how your legs wrapped around his waist as you squirmed into the feeling, the pressure still something to get used to. Your whine had shifted into a quiet satisfied moan, the sound like music to his ears as he waited for your to say something.

"Charlie, fuck me. Please." Charles was shocked to say the least at your use of vocabulary, but the high-pitched whisper of your voice so beautifully contrasted the nature of your words. And, of course, he had to listen to his wife. So, he slowly began to pull out of you, but was not quite all the way out before he fucked back into you, his own breathy groans making beautiful music with your noises.

"Tu es tellement serrée, ma chère." The default French words strained from his mouth as your brain continued to familiarize itself with the feeling. "How are you feeling, mon amor? Tell me how I make you feel..." You brain recognized the small speed increase of Charles hips, but you didn't care. In fact, you welcomed it.

"It feels so good, baby. So good..." Those last two words echoed from your lips in an increasingly whiny tone, your manicured nails clawing into Charles back, a hiss leaving his mouth as you layed red scratches along his back.

"You feel so good around me, cherie. So tight." Charles moved his hips a bit faster, working against the pleasant resistance, your long, languid, high pitched whines motivating the movement of his hips. He never minded waiting for you, but he has also thought about this moment since the first time he laid eyes on you, and this surpassed anything he could've imagined.

You felt the pressure building again, the frightening over sensitivity as his dick dragged deliciously in and out you and his hips grazed lightly over your swollen clit, causing you to claw over his back even more. This time Charles' words echoed through your brain, telling you to relax, to let it happen. So you let your body relax and feel everything it was feeling, and your brain was turning to mush.

Charles knew you were close. Your walls were beginning to flutter around him, your moans were loud and unabashed, increasingly high-pitched and whiny. You had begun to arch your body into him, hips working fervently to meet each snap of his own. The moment was the most beautiful mixture of you and Charles wanting to please each other, make each other feel the most intense amount of pleasure one could conceivably feel, and it came to its hilt when your cunt began to spasm at an increased uneven rate, your body reflexively clinging tight to Charles as you came for the first time, him closely following suit and emptying himself inside of you, burying his face into your neck as best as he could with yours jammed in the crook of his neck, the vibration of your moans being the only indication of the stifled sound.

Charles tried with all of his power to stay propped up above you, but when he knew he couldn't do it anymore, he did his best to make his fall into hugging your still trembling frame as smooth as possible. He cooed praises into your ear and gently caressed your back as you rode out your orgasm (You did so good for me; Thank you for trusting me; Je t'aime tant, ma femme), and stayed there until your trembling and quiet whines subsided before getting up to head to the bathroom, very quickly cleaning himself up before dampening a small towel with warm water. He then carefully climbed back into bed, gently guiding your body so you sat between his legs, you limp thighs parted enough for him to, for the moment, just place the warm towel over your sore pussy. You protested weakly, body still highly sensitive to his touch, but Charles waited patiently until you allowed him to continue, gently wiping any stickiness from your cunt and inner thighs stopping anytime your hands jolted for his wrist and waiting until the grip loosened. He pressed kisses to your now messed up hair and continued to whisper his devotion to you as he clean you up, also choosing to gently massage your legs and hips while he had you in this position. Once he was able to do this without interruption, he finished cleaning and massaging areas you previously wouldn't let him near and then got back up to toss away the towel and grab one of the many large nightshirts he knew you packed to sleep in, and gently guided you to sit up long enough to pull the shirt over your head and arms before allowing you lay back down, pulling the heavy comforter that got pushed to the side earlier in the night over your tired body. He finished straightenting up some of the room, tossing worn clothes and the used towel in a corner to later be seperated out and washed when you two made it to the vacation home in Italy, pulling on a pair of pajama pants and going on a hunt for a bottle of water somewhere in the large hotel suite. When he got back to the bedroom, two found bottles of water in hand, he was met by the heavnly sight of you, looking at him with wide yet tired eyes, face illuminated by the subtle glow of the dimmed bathroom light, a small grin on your lips silently pleading for him to come to bed. He slowly approached you, wanting to burn the image into his brain for him to be able to go back to in years to follow, taking his time closing the bathroom door so only a sliver of light was left, then handing you the bottle he opened as he walked over for you to take a drink of as he climbed into bed. You tried to get away with only a sip, but he wouldn't lay down until at least half of the bottle was gone.

"After what we just did, you need to hydrate, mon amor." You chuckled and watched him as he downed a majority of his bottle before placing it on the nightstand beside him then turning over to pull you into his chest. He smelled like sex (now that you understood the phrase) and what was left of his sweet, woodsy cologne, and you wished you could bottle it up and save it forever. The room was silent, which felt weird compared to the the animalistic noises that filled it moments before, leaving room for you to think, and sprial into voicing a conclusion that has haunted you since you and Charles began dating.

"I'm sorry." You were quiet, you honestly hoped that Charles didn't hear you, but that hope was slashed when you felt his neck move to tip his head to look at you.

"What are you saying sorry for?" His voice was gentle, but very obviously confused, so you just squeeze your eyes shut and continue.

"For-uhm-making you wait so long..." You had opened you eyes long before your confession, but you did everything you could to avoid eye contact. If there was one thing that made you feel insecure in your relationship, by no one else's fault but your own (and maybe the snide remark from people here and there), it was whether or not you held onto your morals too tight. Whether or not Charles resented you for not trusting him with something this intimate sooner.

"Don't say sorry. There is no reason for sorry. I knew I was going to marry you the moment I met you, so what would it have hurt me to wait?" He let out a polite laugh and kissed your forehead. "Don't ever be sorry for the boundaries you set, d'accord? I just want you to feel safe." Another kiss was pressed onto your head as silence settled over you two again. That is until it was Charles' turn to voice his own nagging concern. "I just hope that it was good for you. That's all I want."

"Charlie, it was better than I could have ever imagined." It was your turn to kiss away his worry, using a hand on his cheek to move his face down for a peck on the lips.

"You can tell the truth. I can take it." He dramatically falls back onto his pillow and turns his head away, failing at stopping the chuckle that ensues. You just climb further on top of him, giggling as well until you both just settled on each other's eyes, nothing else consuming your minds than wanting to crash your lips together, kissing each other as deep as you could until you had to come up for air.

"I'm so happy I got to marry the love of my life." You cuddled back into his chest and begin to let the darkness and the tiredness of your body lull you to sleep.

"I'm happy I got to make the love of my life my wife. Ma belle, très belle femme." One last nuzzle of your head into his chest was all the comfort and reassurance he needed to drift off to sleep himself, the anticipation of the real honeymoon filling both of your dreams.

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ginnsbaker · 2 months

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (4/?)

Part summary: Getting to know Leigh Shaw comes with some hardships—literally.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 4.600 | Warnings/Tags: Pining | A/N: Still haven't decided how many parts will there be, but for now, enjoy reader's POV as her interest in Leigh grows :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Next

For some reason, you keep saying yes to Leigh Shaw.

Yes to providing your veterinary services for her.

Yes to divulging the private aspects of your relationship with Matt.

Yes to staying in her yoga class.

Yes to running very early in the morning, with a lung-busting pace that leaves you dehydrated and feeling queasy by the end of it.

As if to add insult to injury, Leigh Shaw doubles back to where you're lagging behind, barely hanging on for dear life. She flashes that cheeky grin, says, “Try to keep up,” and takes off again like it's nothing. You're left gasping for air, your heart screaming in agony as you attempt to match her pace, but Leigh's already a blur ahead.

She was right—your endurance is really nowhere to be seen. It's in these moments, as you're pushing past what you thought were your limits, that you start to get why Leigh's both a pain and a push that was kind of missing before in your life.

Leigh eventually vanishes around a corner, and consequently, you lose sight of her. You dig deep, pushing yourself to keep going, refusing to quit out of stubbornness and curiosity of what your body could do. By some miracle, you make it to the finish line, which turns out to be that park you've been to only once before with Matt. He had made it a special day with sandwiches and comics, while you got lost in a book he swore you’d love. You can’t shake off the feeling that this place is significant for Leigh and Matt too.

When you finally stumble in, there's Leigh, chilling on the grass, looking like she's lost in thought, her eyes dark with something you can't quite put your finger on. But then she spots you, and it's like someone flipped a switch. She’s back to the flippant Leigh—easygoing, as if nothing’s amiss.

“Was half expecting to find you passed out somewhere back there,” Leigh smirks up at you.

You can’t help but flop down next to her, letting the sun beat down on your face, feeling every bit of your skin that's exposed soaking up the warmth. Thirst claws at your throat, fierce and unforgiving. Gathering the little energy you have left, you manage to ask, “How long have you been waiting?”

Leigh glances at you, her casual ease belying the brief glimpse of concern you thought you'd seen earlier. “Oh, about five minutes,” she says, her tone light, as if the grueling run was nothing more than a leisurely stroll for her.

You pant out, “Why are you so fast, anyway?”

Leigh bursts into laughter, finding your question absurdly funny. “Fast? Me? That's hardly competitive speed, you're just... completely out of shape.”

You pout, feeling slightly offended but too exhausted to argue. Stretching out beside her, you let out a series of groans and pops, feeling your muscles protest and then slowly relax. “Feels like I'm a hundred years old,” you mutter with a heavy sigh.

Still chuckling, Leigh shakes her head. “I've been running for three years now. It's more of a hobby, really, but I need to stay active for my job at the Beautiful Beast. Or my mom will fire me.”

“Your family owns that place?”

Leigh corrects you quickly, “Not my family, just my mom. And being the owner's daughter doesn't give me a pass to slack off. I can't afford to be terrible at my job.”

Her distinction between “my family” and “my mom” sticks with you. It seems like a clue into her family dynamics. In the short time you've known her, Leigh comes across as straightforward, genuinely helpful, and yes, perhaps a bit quick-tempered, but overall...she's okay.

More than okay, actually. She must be incredible to those she truly cares about. So, what went wrong with her and Matt? How could he betray her like that? It’s even more baffling when you remember Leigh saying they were trying for a baby. That detail still turns your stomach, and you're endlessly grateful you never went down that path with him, despite once wishing things had gone differently.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't realize how intently you've been staring at Leigh until she calls you out on it. “What is it?” she asks, her voice pulling you back to the present.

Flustered, you find yourself asking the question that's been simmering in your mind, since you first pulled on your sneakers for that 5k this morning. “Why'd you bring me along for your run? Why are you even helping me?”

Leigh just gives an offhand shrug, says, “Well, you didn't have to show up, so you're actually helping yourself.”

“Fair enough,” you reply, but can't shake off a bit of disappointment. The truth is, you were hoping she'd say something that suggested she was up for being friends, or at least saw you as more than just another client of hers.

It's weird, really, why you keep wanting to be friends with Leigh Shaw.

Suddenly, Leigh glances at her watch and looks up at you. “Ready to go?” she asks, a bit impatiently.

“If I can still walk after this, sure,” you say, half-joking, half-serious, feeling the effects of the run in every muscle.

Leigh laughs at that, a genuine, hearty laugh that lights up her face. It's a sound that's real and unguarded, making you think that maybe, becoming friends with her isn't such a far-fetched idea after all.

Yoga sessions with Leigh stick to the script you first stumbled into. She's all business, only really tossing you a nod or a word when your form goes sideways. “Shoulders down, back straight,” she corrects you, her voice firm, yet not unkind. Outside of that, you might as well blend into the walls for all the personal attention she gives, just like anyone else there. Everyone gets the same treatment—tough love, dished out in equal measure.

Despite her imposing presence, there's something else, a depth to her that often seems just out of reach. You catch her sometimes, looking out the window with a distant gaze. But then she blinks, shakes it off, and is back, fully attentive and ready to guide the next pose.

“Focus on your breathing,” Leigh's voice snaps you out of your focus on her. “Inhale deeply, and as you exhale, sink deeper into the pose.”

Determined to excel, you pour all your effort into being the student Leigh doesn’t need to worry about. Ironically, your diligence only seems to make you more invisible to her. As you master the poses with less need for correction, Leigh's interactions with you dwindle further.

After class, you toy with the idea of approaching her. Maybe get some feedback, or even suggest grabbing dinner together so you don't have to eat alone. But as you're putting together what to say, you notice Leigh seems in a hurry. She exchanges a few quick words with another instructor who's just arrived, and before you can decide, she's excusing herself and heading out.

The moment to ask her has slipped away, leaving you to pack your yoga mat with a resigned sigh.

Another time, then, you think.

The next day, without another invite from Leigh for a run, you lace up your shoes and follow the same route you and Leigh took together. Just 20 minutes into the run, the solo effort feels more like a chore than the engaging challenge it was with company. You loop the route four times, hoping maybe to cross paths with Leigh purely by coincidence, but she’s nowhere to be found.

The studio had announced last night that Leigh’s yoga classes would be temporarily led by a different teacher, with her expected to return next week. This bit of news leaves you mulling about her absence, kind of hoping you might accidentally run into her to find out more. But as the week goes by without any such encounters, you realize you actually know very little about her daily routines or habits. Despite the nagging curiosity, you refrain from texting her, not wanting to intrude or anything.

Admittedly, your motivation to work out dipped slightly without Leigh being part of it.

When you finally talk yourself into visiting Matt’s grave, you do so just minutes before it could get really dark. You've chosen this time deliberately, betting on the common fear that keeps most people away from cemeteries as night approaches.

Your main concern isn't the general public, though; it's just Leigh. Past experiences have shown that encounters with her can happen unexpectedly and in the most random of places—like that night at the club when she ended up getting sick just a few inches away from you. You're not here out of a longing for Matt. Instead, you aim to properly close this chapter of your life, hoping to do so without running into his widow and giving her the wrong impression.

The air holds a chill that wasn't there when you left home, making you wrap your jacket tighter around yourself. It’s quiet, just the sound of your own footsteps crunching softly on the path. Being here as the day turns to night, watching shadows stretch out long and skinny, really gets you thinking about life, death, and everything else in-between. Maybe that's also why people avoid this place—it sort of forces you to face the music, making you curious if all the things you're wrapped up in are actually important or utterly pointless.

As for you, you haven't quite figured out where you stand on that yet. Lately, you've really come into your own in your career, especially now that you’re seeing the profits steadily rising each month. But that sense of achievement fades each evening as you return to your empty apartment. It's just you, night after night, pushing through the grind, pouring everything into your job. Yet, when you try to envision where you'll be in five years from now, the picture isn't clear. Will you be settling down with someone, or just picking up the pieces from another relationship that’s gone awry?

Finding Matt's grave takes a moment, but when you do, your heart clenches. It’s just a simple stone with his name, the years he was here, and a couple of words(you’re guessing it’s Leigh who wrote them) about him.

You kneel down, the grass cool and slightly damp beneath you, and lay the flowers you've brought on his grave. They look kind of bright against the dimming light. Like hope.

“Hey Matt,” you say, stepping into a silence that feels like it's hanging around, just waiting for you to fill it. Talking to a dead person feels ridiculous like they do in the movies, but it's not like anyone's around to hear you.

“You know, I met Leigh,” you begin. “Your wife you conveniently forgot to mention when you were busy asking me out.”

There's a sour edge to your voice, airing grievances to a guy who can't throw back excuses anymore. You can't help but chuckle, though it's more bitter than amused. You let your thoughts more freely now, like the barrier between you and Matt has thinned out with the honesty.

“Leigh is… beautiful, you know? Not in that runway or social media kind of way, but in a manner that's hard to just overlook.”

You could list a dozen more positive things about Leigh to tell Matt, but he already knew all that, didn't he?

“The first time I met her, I felt small, maybe even insecure. And now?” you shake your head, smiling slightly. “...I still do. But mostly, I'm just left thinking…” You pause. The next thought isn't really for Matt, not anymore.

It’s for you.

“I just can't wrap my head around why you'd want to be with me when you had her. I feel like the murder weapon that's trying to seek justice for its victim.” You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Not a great spot to be in, honestly. Makes me feel kind of helpless, you know?"

Sitting back, you take a moment, just looking at the headstone, at the name etched into the granite. The conversation, if you can call it that, feels like it's shifted something inside you. Not closure, exactly, but maybe the first step towards understanding—or at least accepting—that some things just don't make sense.

Standing up, you dust off your knees, taking one last look at the grave. “Anyway, Matt, I hope you've found peace. It looks like we're all searching for a little of that ourselves. Thanks for the book suggestions. Though, you might be a bit disappointed to hear Agatha Christie remains my top favorite.”

As you walk away from Matt's grave, it feels as though you're leaving a piece of yourself behind to rest with him. You decide then, as the cemetery gate closes behind you with a gentle click, that you won't let this page in your book define you. Maybe tomorrow, you'll try a new coffee shop, or take a different route to work. Small changes, but important ones.

Maybe you’ll even try that spin class that scares you so.

“Since when did you start living at the gym?” Suzie teases you from her spot across the desk, that signature playful, all-knowing arch to her eyebrow.

Suzie, who had originally come on board as a receptionist at your vet clinic with little more than enthusiasm and a genuine love for animals to her name, had quickly become much more than just a staff member. Her lack of relevant experience was initially a concern, but her dedication and the way she connected with both the animals and their owners made it clear she was a perfect fit. Over time, she evolved from being just the receptionist to a friend.

A friend who seems to enjoy teasing you, though.

“First off, it’s hardly the gym. It’s this fitness class I’ve been trying out—big distinction,” you clarify, eyes glued on your phone. The last half hour has been a slow crawl towards 5 PM, the magical hour when you can finally shut down and head to Leigh’s class at Beautiful Beast.

“Tomatoes, to-mah-toes,” she quips.

“Not the same thing,” you insist, still not fully engaged in the conversation, your focus on a food article you're reading.

Suzie just waves her hand dismissively. “Semantics. But seriously, you've been really into whatever this is. There's gotta be a guy making those sweat sessions worth it.”

You can't help but laugh, the idea so off base it circles back to being hilarious.

“Trust me, the allure isn't the sweat. It's those endorphins,” you say.

“Yeah, sure,” she drawls, unconvinced. “Come on. Who is it? I know you're not this amped to be all gross and sweaty for nothing.”

“There's no guy, Suzie.” Then, as if the thought just occurred to you, you add, “Or girl. But honestly, there's really no one.”

At that, Suzie's expression shifts from playful teasing to one of pleasant surprise and a touch of mock offense. “Hold up, you might be into girls? And here I was, shooting my shot in the dark this whole time!”

Your ears burn red at her blunt flirtation. “Suzie, come on,” you stammer.

“If I had known that was on the table, I would’ve upped my game ages ago,” she says, her wink sending your face from warm to inferno.

“You’re impossible,” you manage to say as you hurry to collect your things, ready to rush out the door.

“Impossibly into you,” she retorts saucily.

“I’m gonna have to fire you, you know,” you mutter jokingly, glancing at your watch. “Gotta run, bye!”

“Just so we're clear, the offer stands,” she adds, still grinning.

You feel a sense of relief seeing Leigh back in class.

Though the website clearly stated her schedule, you found yourself on edge until you could see Leigh with your own eyes. There's nothing noticeably different about her; Leigh seems just as composed and in control as ever. When she catches you looking, she offers a small, somewhat dismissive smile before turning her attention elsewhere.

You spend the whole session with your energy dialed up, partly because Leigh's presence just does that, and partly because you're already plotting. As soon as she calls time on the session, you're practically springing into action. Your belongings—a water bottle, towel, and the rest—land in a haphazard pile on the floor as you quickly stand up, eager to catch her before she disappears. You make your way toward her, determined not to let her slip away this time.

Leigh's busy packing up her own gear, her back to you as you close the distance. “Hey, Leigh,” you say, and it sounds like you've got this under control, even if your heart's hammering away in your chest. She turns, and there's a flicker of surprise in her expression. You’re hoping it’s the good kind of surprise.

“I'm really glad you're back,” you push on, hoping it doesn't sound as clumsy to her as it does in your head.

She takes a swig from her water bottle, giving you a once-over, and then says, “Thanks. Do you need anything?” There's an expectant look in her eyes, and in that moment, your confidence begins to wane, melting under her gaze. You're on the spot, scrambling for words, any words that don't involve asking her out for dinner, which suddenly seems like an insurmountable task.

“Uh, actually,” you start, your mind racing to find a safe topic, “I was wondering if you had any tips on improving my form?”

Leigh's expression softens, and she nods, setting her water bottle down. “Sure, I can show you a few things. Let's go back to the mats,” she suggests, leading the way. Despite feeling like your tank is on empty and your body crying for hydration, backing down doesn’t feel like an option.

Not when Leigh is already spreading her mat next to yours. She does so with a sort of blasé authority, and you can't help but think how this is Leigh all over—straight to the point, no fuss. You're tired, sure, and a part of you is suggesting that you're about to make a fool of yourself with your shaky legs and probably even shakier form. But then, Leigh starts talking, pointing out where you're going wrong and how to fix it, and suddenly, you're not thinking about dinner anymore. You’re too distracted now by the smell of her perfume mixed with the scent of her sweat.

The next few minutes turn into what feels like a whole new session under Leigh's watchful eyes. She's on you about everything—the angle of your arm, the set of your shoulders, even the way you're distributing your weight on your feet. Leigh's not mean about it, but she doesn't let anything slide. You're just trying to keep up, watching her move with that easy confidence. It's mesmerizing, really, how she can make something so complex look so simple.

By the time you're done, your muscles are burning, your breath is ragged, and you're pretty sure you've sweated out every last drop of water in your body. As you lie there, staring at the ceiling and asking yourself how a ten-minute guidance turned into an even harder session, you mentally kick yourself for not just admitting you wanted company for dinner. It was right there, and you were too scared to be rejected.

But why? Considering everything that's happened and the circumstances, Leigh turning you down seems like the more probable outcome anyway.

And then Leigh does something totally offbeat. She glances at the clock, then back at you, and out of nowhere, she's asking, “Want to grab something to eat?”

It's so unexpected, that for a moment, you're sure you misheard her. But Leigh's waiting for an answer, a slight smile playing on her lips, and suddenly, the fatigue feels a little less overwhelming. You sit up, a slow grin spreading across your face as you realize this is it—your chance, handed to you when you least expected it.

“Yeah,” you finally manage to say, almost tripping over your tongue. “Yeah, that'd be great.”

When Leigh mentioned grabbing something to eat, you expected a sit-down at some cozy restaurant serving healthy food. Instead, she pulls into the drive-thru of a fast-food joint, orders a mountain of fries and a couple of burgers, and parks the car in a secluded spot overlooking the city. It's laid-back, unpolished, and honestly, pretty perfect.

“So, how long have you been in town?” Leigh asks as she hands you a burger, the city lights twinkling below like a scattered deck of glowing cards.

“Just over a year,” you reply, taking a hearty bite of your burger. “Moved here for the business opportunity, but it’s been... you know, slow on the social front.”

Leigh nods, understandingly. “It can be tough, starting fresh somewhere. This place isn't the friendliest to newcomers.”

Your eyebrow lifts, curious whether she's speaking from her own experiences or perhaps someone else's.

“Yeah, most of my socializing happens online these days. My closest friends are scattered across different states,” you say.

Leigh just hums a bit, not really adding anything else. She doesn't go into details about her own friends, so you're left trying to think of something else to talk about. But everything that comes to mind feels too personal, like asking why she wasn't at the Beautiful Beast for a week, how she's dealing with being a widow, or questions about her family.

Small talk isn't really your thing, so the conversation fizzles out from here. Both of you just end up staring out at the city lights in silence. Leigh seems comfortable with it though, so you decide to just go with it and savor the quiet moment too.

After a while, Leigh breaks the silence. “I didn't think I'd be able to love another dog after Rogue,” she shares, not taking her eyes off the cityscape. “Matt and I had to put her down because she was sick. It was brutal. I swore off dogs after that.”

You look over at her and offer a soft, “I'm sorry.”

But there's no trace of sadness on her face. It’s so nonchalant, almost as if she’s just talking about the weather and not a painful memory.

“But then...I saw Visitor,” she goes on, a small smile cracking through. “I just knew he needed me. And, this might sound odd, but I realized I wanted to feel needed. When Matt—” She stumbles over his name, a rare falter, but she's quick to brush it off. “When he died, nobody needed me. And I struggled with that. Because being needed felt like a purpose.”

The idea of needing to be needed isn't something you've ever considered. Truth is, you've never really needed anyone. You've been a solo act for as long as you can remember, handling things on your own, relying solely on your own capabilities. And so, that also meant you couldn't imagine being on the other side of the spectrum—being needed by someone.

However, there's a part of you, unexpectedly, that feels a twinge of jealousy towards Leigh. To truly experience loss, there first has to be something meaningful to lose. You're not sure you've ever let yourself have that kind of bond with anyone. Not yet, anyway. It's a sobering thought, making you think about what you might be missing out on.

Leigh notices you're not saying much and says, “I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. I'm sorry.”

You shake your head slightly, “It's okay. I just... I don't think I've ever been in your shoes.”

Leigh looks a bit puzzled. “What do you mean? Are you talking about the dog thing, or…?”

“The other thing,” you clarify.

Leigh smirks. “Oh, I wish I was like that.”

You quickly realize how arrogant that must have sounded, so you rush to explain, “No, I'm not trying to brag or anything. It's just, I guess I've never really opened myself up to that kind of bond.”

“Not even with Matt?” she asks, and there it is—the topic of Matt you've been tiptoeing around. You're suddenly aware that Matt's shadow is something you'll have to get used to, just as Leigh apparently has, given the unceremonious way she alludes to your almost-affair with her late husband.

“No,” you whisper, looking straight into Leigh's eyes, hoping she’ll believe you. “We never needed each other like that.”

Leigh's eyes linger on yours a moment longer before she looks away. Eager to change the subject, you add, “Must've been rough, giving Visitor back to his real family.”

“Yeah. I mean, I shouldn't be, right? But part of me was actually angry at them for letting him get away like that. He could've been hit by a car or worse, all because they weren't careful. But at the end of the day,” she stops, a sigh escaping her, and that smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes comes back as she looks at you again. “He’s not mine.”

“Visitor really snuck into your heart, didn’t he?”

Leigh nods. “I wasn't expecting to care that much, you know?” Then, she offers a small, reflective chuckle. “Makes you think about the connections we allow ourselves to have, and the ones we avoid, doesn't it?”

You try to gauge whether she's still talking about Visitor while also trying to figure out where you stand—the connections she's chosen or the ones she sidesteps? Before you find the courage to ask, Leigh starts the car and presses down on the clutch, ready to switch gears.

“I need to head back to the studio, so I can only drop you off somewhere on the way,” Leigh says, signaling the end of your time together for now.

You quickly decide that being dropped off at the studio is fine. “The Beautiful Beast works for me,” you reply, hoping to extend the time you have left with her, even if it's just by a few minutes.

The ride is quiet, the earlier ease replaced by a thoughtful silence. You're watching her, the way she's all eyes on the road but clearly lost in her head. Leigh, as you’ve noticed, is someone hard to get to open up, her walls built high and strong. She's this fortress of a person, but tonight felt different, like she accidentally left a window open and you caught a glimpse inside.

It just makes you crave for more.

As the studio comes into view, it feels like you've both made some progress with Leigh and yet, somehow, not made any at all. Stepping out of the car, you’re met by Jules, another staff member at the Beautiful Beast whom you've heard Leigh refer to numerous times, approaches. You barely catch her saying, “Danny is waiting for you inside,” to Leigh. You miss the frown on Jules's face or how Leigh instantly seems on edge.

“Thanks for the ride—and for dinner,” you say, feeling a bit out of place now.

“Don't get used to it,” she says, the corners of her lips twisting into a reluctant smile. “Was nice talking, though. Thanks for not making it weird.”

As she's quickly pulled away by whatever's going on inside, you hover for a second, debating if you should go in for a goodbye hug. But before you know it, Leigh is tossing a quick “Bye” in your direction as she strides towards the studio.

You're left there, floating in the aftermath, wondering about everything and nothing all at once.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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astradreaming · 1 month

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Please write ares x percy's older sister!reader i have read literally ever fic of him on here

I personally have been reloading the ares tag way too often 😫😫 Sorry the ending is kinda rushed, my duolingo streak nearly finished and then i got distracted 😔

masterlist

Caught.

Percy Jackson had been through a lot.

From quests to prophesies, from Alaska to Greece but he finally thought he'd lost his mind.

He had been having a relatively quiet morning, from having his favourite blue breakfast to having a day off of activities due to the hot summer day.

He was currently walking around the edge of camp for something to do when he froze mid-step in shock at the sight of the God of War standing at the gates of Camp Half-Blood talking to none other than you, his dearest older sister.

At first Percy thought he was offering (demanding) you a quest, it had been known on occasion that Olympians would sought out both you and him for their bidding.

As Percy got closer to you (about to demand that Ares find someone else to bother) he realized that that wasn't the case at all.

Ares stood with crosed arms leaning against the gateway, his head would tilt to match yours as you talked. You were standing close, too close. Everytime you laughed at something he'd said, which Percy doubted was even that funny, your side would brush his.

A werid contrast of orange camp shirt, light blue summer shorts, white sneakers next to his leather jacket and dark blue jeans, black boots.

Percy could now see Ares disgusting face against yours in a heated kiss.

"You know that offer is still on the table" Ares' voice in a playful tone that had Percy involuntarily gagging at.

"Not just yet" To Percy's utter surprise your voice was soft as if you were sadden at the fact you could take whatever offer he'd given you.

"What the actual fuck?" Percy's words slipped before his mind caught up.

You jolted away at the intrusion, your wide eyes meeting Percy's. Ares barely turns his head at the abruption, the only indication he'd even heard Percy was the way his eyes narrowed at him.

"Percy! Why aren't you with Annabeth? You said-"

Percy harshly cut you off, stepping closer to you.

"Why aren't I with Annabeth? Why are you with him!"

Percy watches as you start blubbering trying to figure out what to say, when a hand lands in your shoulder, Ares' hand.

"Get off my sister! You fucker!"

Percy reached out to wack his hand away from you but Ares pushes his shoulder, evading Percy's grasp.

"I fought you once Ares I'll do it again!" He said digging his feet into the ground, reaching into his pocket for Riptide.

Just as Percy was about to uncap Riptide, Ares turned to face you, eyes speaking in a silent conversation, making Percy pause his movements before Ares turned back towards Percy.

"Look kid, as much as I would love to send you on a permanent vacation down with uncle H, I've unfortunately promised a certain someone to not to that" He shrugged as he spoke as if this entire conversation was boring him to an early death.

"Who has made you swear it? My dad? Beacuse when have you ever-"

Ares scoffed quickly dismissing him to face you instead.

"This kid's a fuckin idiot, how's he still alive I mean seriously-"

You glared at Ares as you moved closer to Percy, blocking the two from each other.

"I made him swear it, because you're my little brother and I knew if you found out you'd flip out!"

Percy's heart nearly gave out and if it weren't for years of training to fight he was sure it would have.

"Found out? Oh my gods you're- with him? Him! Ugh, this is the worst day of my life." Percy whined, he knew he sounded like a brat but truthfully the whole thing was making him cringe but one look at your face told him to quickly drop it.

After a moment of painful awkward silence that had Percy's mind running in circles trying to move on.

"How'd you even get him to swear that" Percy said finally finding his voice.

You glanced behind you before quickly looking back at Percy, leaning in as if to tell a secret, Percy leaned in too, not wanting to miss hearing what dirt you had on the Olympian.

"I told him I'd swear I wouldn't speak to him again. He lasted a day" You voice broke off into a fit of giggles.

He found it too funny.

Ares. God of War forever bloodthirsty and always a prick, was whipped for Percy's older sister, who looked after Percy throughout two titan wars and was the same girl who practically raised the younger campers so they wouldn't be lonely. A weird duo.

Percy Jackson looked up to see you shaking your head as you laughed at the memory. He also caught Ares looking at you too.

Although traumatized by the thought you two together he quickly brushed it off. It was unusual and unfortunate for Percy to admit but he and Ares did have two things in common.

Both of them would fight fate for you. And of course, Percy looks at Annabeth the same way Ares looks at you but Percy wouldn't exactly admit that too soon.

#ares x reader #ares pjo x reader #pjo x reader #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo fandom #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #ares #pjo ares #ares pjo #ares god of war #book percy jackson #percy jackson x reader

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graysnetwork · 4 months

Text

⊰Mr. Nonchalant⊱

info- spent half of the day writing this cause I was out of ideas but also bored and stuff. And i still have some requests i still have not done but for some reason i just get stuck. So i'm sorry if you requested and i've never done it.

warnings: wounds mentioned (cut/gash), blood

Summary: Keegan is only ever sweet with you, and it's finally dawned on him that, he likes you, a lot.

Keegan is so sweet with you.

He’s literally so nice to you, helping you with anything you need. And everyone on base fully believed you two had a thing going on because he was only nice to you, until you stared at them in confusion because you had no idea what they meant. There was nothing going on between you guys.

You thought he was just a nice guy who liked to help everyone, but you were wrong, kinda. He was a nice guy who did like to help, just you.

He was a dream though, he helped you with everything; from training, to grabbing things from high places for you. And to add to that, he was handsome. He had those beautiful icy blue eyes, and he was always clean shaven, he had downturned lips, and short messy black hair. He rarely took his mask off, but with you he did. Barely anyone knew what he looked like. Only the people he trusted knew what his face looked like. You had only joined the team as a medic for them this year so the rest of the team thought it was surprising he let you see his face since more than half of them have only ever seen his mouth when he lifted his mask to eat.

In Keegan’s perspective, he knew he was being very nice with you. There wasn't a particular reason. He just always wanted to be nice to you. You were pretty and super kind to him so he wanted to be kind to you as well. He was asked constantly by his teammates if you two had something going on and he denied everything, though, he wouldn't deny you if you wanted something to go on.

He was starting to realize his stomach did flips whenever you were around, and his face got hot under his mask when you stared at him through your lashes, and his mouth went dry when you asked him a question. His pupils would be blown out at the sight of you, or just the thought of you.

And he was such a serious guy, but for you…

He would even try to crack a joke or two when you were around just to hear a giggle come out of you. And he had very, very dry humor, and all of the jokes he told you were terrible but that's half the charm.

When Logan finally asked Keegan about you, his cheeks went red, and he stuttered like a kid presenting in front of a class. He was a total mess when it came to you, as a topic. When he was actually talking to you, he was totally fine. But Mr. Nonchalant was acting very chalant about you.

–

You sat in front of keegan staring at the wound on his side, you began stitching him up. His face contorted into an expression of pain, his groans intensified as you reached the middle of the slit.

“m’sorry… but i'm almost done” you whispered and he groaned back as a response. “S’fine sweetheart, dont worry about it, just hurry.. please” he whispered, You nodded and finished stitching the wound. Keegan sighed as you finished, he closed his eyes, sat back in his seat, and relaxed. “thank you..” his voice barely above a whisper. “are you okay?” you asked and furrowed your brows “im great, feeling better already” he muttered back, “good, i'm gonna go get you ice” you smiled and went over to the fridge and grabbed an ice pack. His eyes followed your figure, and your voice, he smiled and watched you.

“y/n, can we talk?’’ he muttered again, “of course, About what?” you perked up your brows, “..us..” he whispered, his stomach felt empty and he felt like throwing up. “what about us?” “well, i uh.. I need to talk to you about something” he gulped and he took his eyes off of you as you sat back down in front of him, he couldn't look at you anymore now, his eyes wandered everywhere except towards you.

“about what keegan?” you asked and placed the ice on the wound. “I-” he let out a shaky sigh as he sat up again trying to relax as he kept the ice on his slit. “I love you y/n” he whispered, your eyes widened and heat ran up your neck to your cheeks, you felt hot, not in a good, sexy way. Like you were having a fever.

“Oh wow..”

That was the only thing that could come out of your mouth at the moment.

“Yeah.. I love you. And it's fine if you don't even remotely like me back, because i love you so much that i just want you to be happy” he got up slowly from the chair, still keeping the ice against himself “ even if that means i don't get to love you, but i want you to be happy, and if that means no me in your life then that's fine, super fine, not fine with me but if it makes you happy, then i'll say it's fine…”

“I want you” you gulped and stood up in front of him, “really?” his brows perked up and his stomach did flips. “Really.” you nodded and took in a deep breath and exhaled deeply. “good were on the same page..” you gulped once again, “yeah.. So, do you wanna go out some time” he asked, "sure, " you smiled sheepishly. “When we go out, i promise i'll actually have flowers for you and i'll tell you ‘i love you’ properly, y’know, flash mob and everything” he smiled “don't do that, please” you giggled.

He stepped closer,put his hand on your cheek,

And he leaned in and kissed you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed him back, gosh, he was a great kisser. His other hand found its place on your waist and he didn’t pull away, neither did you. It seemed that the two of you didn’t want this moment to end.

Nobody, if they were in this situation, would ever dare to pull away from this euphoric movie scene. You could probably pitch this as a movie scene, handsome shirtless soldier kissing a medic after admitting their love for each other.

Gosh, he was a good kisser.

#imagines #x reader stories #fluff #call of duty #keegan p russ #keegan russ #call of duty keegan #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #keegan p. russ x reader #keegan x reader #keegan russ x you #keegan russ fluff #keegan p russ x reader

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chasedbyatlantic · 3 months

Text

when you wash your hair, joel miller

summary: IN WHICH — you decide to surprise a sleeping joel after you've been working all day outside of jackson's walls, but it doesn't go as you plan.

warnings: gender neutral x joel miller, post outbreak!joel, jackson!joel, mentions of you and joel in a relationship, sub!joel, joel has ptsd, joel almost hurts reader (doesn't tho so dw!), lots of fluff at the end, cute ending, lots of swearing, ellie being annoying as per usual LOL. lmk if there’s anything i missed <3

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: hiiii this is my very first fic on tumblr! i have been obsessed w/ tlou for the LONGEST time now so why not start writing for my fav fictional mass murderer? anyway- hope u guys enjoy! i plan to post a ton more so stay tuned xoxo

—

You had just finished an ungodly long shift along the outskirts of Jackson, keeping everyone inside safe from- well, whatever lay outside (scary squirrels, mostly). It had been so different since you arrived, with Joel and Ellie. For starters, you weren't kept on edge every single second of every single day - Joel was, which you always got pissed at him for, since you two were more than safe inside these walls. There was also the fact that life had sort of just- resumed, after twenty years of fighting for your life. It was alright, though, a sense of normalcy was nice, even if it were to only last for a little while (you were hoping it lasted forever).

As soon as you were inside the gates of Jackson, you rode over to the stables in which your horse, Leo, was housed at. The big wooden doors were opened by a stable hand that looked no older than Ellie, maybe she knew who this was, you thought to yourself.

You had slid the kid a small "thank you." as they closed the door behind you, and you hopped off Leo. You reached in your bag and scrounged for a second, before pulling out an apple core, the remains of the apple you had eaten earlier. "Here boy," your hand raised towards the horse's snout with the leftovers in-palm, and he took it as if it were the best thing in the world.

Leo munched away while you swapped his bridle for a halter and lead, tugging him to his freshly-mucked stall. He had walked over to his water bucket and you moved with him, undoing his girth and removing his saddle. It was hoisted over your arm as you moved out and locked his stall. "Excuse me," You called over to the stable hand that had let you in as you put all of his tack on the stand in front, "Do you mind brushing him down for me? I've had a long day and gotta get home quick."

The kid nodded their head eagerly, which had earned a smile from you. You weren't lying about having a long day or needing to get home quick - besides, you had always stayed after your shifts, right now you were just craving to see your favourite person (and a warm bath too, you had guessed).

You had removed your gloves as you took one last glimpse at your boy before you left him to be taken care of by the stable hand. As you walked out of the stable, you were greeted with a nice breeze. It wasn't exactly winter yet, but it sure as hell wasn't summer. Autumn was close on finishing, which only meant the days were getting longer.

It took you a mere twenty five minutes to walk back to the Miller residence. If you had a little pep in your step, it would've taken no longer than fifteen. But, being up since before sunrise has its cons. Anyway, it isn't your fault that Tommy and Maria (Joel's brother and new sister-in-law) placed you guys in the farthest house literally ever.

As you approached closer to the home, you could see the familiar little (she would kill you if she heard you describe her as little) girl. The girl took notice of you too, "Fucking finally!" Ellie had kicked up her skateboard, grabbing the tip of it, and came running over. "Jesus Christ, I thought you had got eaten by like- fucking bigfoot out there!", She seemed to be only half-joking.

"I was not eaten out there, Ellie." You sigh as you messed her hair up slightly with your hand, "Is Joel still out on patrol?" You had asked the girl. Her face dropped, earning an "ugh!" from her. "You two love birds are gross. You should care more about me than him! He's a frail, broken, old man while I'm a super cool, and totally awesome young person." You rolled your eyes, an automatic laugh escaping your lips. "Another half an hour out here, Elle. It's almost sundown- and please be careful, for fuck sakes. I don't want to be popping your kneecap back in place because of a fall off that- board."

You weren't Ellie's mom, and you didn't mean to take any place of a motherly figure in her life - it just, sort of happened. After what had happened in Salt Lake City a year ago, and you had fought for Ellie back alongside Joel, you couldn't help but grow so much more attached to her- you and Joel both. This is when your motherly instincts (you were never a mother, not before or during this apocalyptic world) kicked in. You both shared a special bond, one that would never be broken, despite the cruel world you both live in.

A small grunt and a "fine" escaped the girl's lips as she flips her board down and kicks off down the street. You shake your head with an almost disapproving look and walk down the rest of the block to your home. A small smile plays upon your lips as you approach the house with a mailbox at the bottom of the driveway that reads "MILLER". Your last name was not Miller, but you were in a relationship with a Miller, so that could maybe, in the slightest, count as your name too.

Your hand brushed past the rusted metal box as you walk up the paved drive way, you're excited to see Joel. Hell, it feels like it's been an eternity since you've seen that man - when in reality, it's only been since this morning. You climb up the wooden stairs at the front of your porch and remove your boots before entering the house - this saved horrid amounts of mud that would scatter in the small foyer of your home. Once your feet are out of your dirty boots, you silently enter the home.

The door was never locked, not when Joel knew you or Ellie weren't home. You didn't know why he kept it unlocked- maybe in case something had happened and you needed to get home fast, or in case you would lose your keys while out and about. It wasn't that big of a deal, though; nobody else lived in this part of the town (besides Tommy and Maria, who were distant neighbours).

It was dead silent when you entered, too eery for your liking. "Joel?" You called out as you shrugged off your autumn layers. No response. "Joel?" You call out once again, moving to where you had seen the light. You approached tip-toeing, starting to get a bit on edge. Joel was always there to greet you when you got home, unless he had patrol duty himself. As soon as you step foot in your living room, all of the previous worries you had melted away as you saw your favourite person curled up on the arm chair, sitting back and mouth open slightly. You wish you had a camera, god a polaroid of this would be amazing.

You approached him, quiet as ever, sliding the sleeves of your soft-knit sweater over ninety percent of your hands. You had brought your face closer to Joel's once you were close enough. The smell of his vanilla and rose scented shampoo had engulfed you. Joel said he hated it (in reality, he definitely did not), but if it made you love him a little more, he would wash his hair with it.

"You're perfect, you know that." You whisper to him, even though he was sound asleep. From the faded freckles over the bridge of his nose from being out in the sun too much this summer, to the small scars that littered his forehead from years of just surviving, he was perfect.

You breathed hushly as you moved your hands up to his face, to cup his cheeks. You thought it was perfect, for him to wake up to you (as if he didn't every morning) at this moment. You knew he missed you when he wasn't with you, he told you multiple times. This would be a nice thing to make his day slightly better, you had thought. Your fingers made soft contact with the flesh on his face - but, this is where it all went wrong.

Joel had shot up from the deep (well, you thought deep) sleep he was in and grabbed the hands that were touching his face. It hadn't registered to him that it was actually you who was touching his face, and not a clicker, or a raider, or anything else. Rage and a sense of fear filled his eyes as they shot opened, eyebrows furrowed as they looked around frantically - he was ready to fight.

A loud grunt and an "ow." escaped your lips once your hands were grabbed and yanked. It had happened within a blink of an eye. You weren't exactly in the mood for getting manhandled in this current moment, but here you were. "Joel- hey, hey, it's just me. You're okay." You spoke quick, trying to pry him off your hand.

It was now that his eyes had met yours, and it took him a moment (which felt like eternity) to process it was you. "Baby.." His grip immediately loosened and his eyes fell. He looked horrified, at himself rather than anything. "M'sorry." There was a tone in his voice that made him sound ashamed, like he had just broken bad news to someone he loved.

"Don't apologize to me, Jesus Christ." You spoke almost too fast and brought your hand to his face again, you felt bad for scaring him awake- your plan had massively backfired. It took Joel a minute before he melted into the touch of your hand in his cheek, something he will only do when it is only you and him around each other. "Shouldn't have been sleepin' while you weren't home." He muttered, his eyes looking everywhere but at yours.

Your heart ached, he shouldn't feel like this- fuck, you're so stupid for doing this you thought to yourself. "Don't apologize baby, hey-" You brought his focus to you, and only you, "-listen, you're alright, okay? We're safe here, you know. I'm safe, Ellie's safe, you're safe." You reassured the man in front of you. "If you want to sleep all day without a care in the world, you can do it."

Joel was being extremely vulnerable right now- and he knew that you sensed it. This part of him never came out, he was always the strong one in the relationship (not that you weren't, he just had that aura linked to him). Your finger rubbed back and forth over his cheek. "M'sorry for waking you from your nap- I was just too jealous of how peaceful you looked. All comfortable in your blue sweater.." your eyes started to trail down his body right in front of you, "-your sweatpants.." you snapped yourself out of the trance you had fallen in, your eyes reaching back up to Joel's.

He was just quiet, in his own thoughts. "Ya'know I love you." you told him. He looked like he snapped out of his own thoughts once you said this to him, the smallest smile known to man appearing on his face (it was genuine, though). "I know, darlin'." This was your cue, you reached forward and placed your lips onto Joel's. Now this, this was home- god, you could've had your lips on his all day for eternity. Joel melted into the kiss, and placed one of his hands on your thighs.

Things had got heated between the two of you within seconds, suddenly the positions were switched and you were straddling Joel on the armchair in your living room. It wasn't until you tore apart from his lips that it hit you. "Ellie’s going to be home soon, baby. We can't have her catching us like this- not again." You tell him as you catch your breath. His lips find your neck, he only hummed in response. After a moment of no proper response from him, you tap his shoulder, "Seriously, Joel!". He had grunted, basically forcing himself off of you. "So let her see us, not like she don't know 'bout it." He muttered, leaning back in the chair you two were in. "Oh, suddenly you're mister PDA?" You asked as you got up, stretching.

He said something under his breath that you couldn't catch, but chose not to pressure him about it. "But hey.." You grab his hand and help him up, "Maybe you could help me in the shower, hm? Let me borrow some o' that good smellin' shampoo ya' got? Wash my hair for me?” Your eyes met his, a smile completely lighting up your entire face. "I'on mind, doll. Maybe you could help me with a few things too," He reaches down, pressing a wet kiss onto your lips.

You take this as the perfect time to slip your fingers between his, and lead him up to the second floor of your large house. Even though you had completely scared the shit out of Joel earlier, and you thought you were a dead man for a split second, he forgave you. He always forgives you - this is why you love him.

Joel had promised you that he would always stay, no matter what had happened between you two. After years of being together, through your ups and your downs, through your serious arguments and your little scares (like this), he was yours. Joel was always yours, and you were always his.

You two come laughing down the stairs, completely soaked from the shower you had taken together. Joel was back in the clothes he wore when you got home, and you were changed into one of his shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts you had. He had his hand in yours as you lead him down the stairs. Before you could even step foot on the first floor, an "ew!" was yelled by a familiar voice.

"That is fucking disgusting- I cannot believe it! I can't leave you two together for more than thirty minutes before you turn into fucking rabbits. I may as well start thinking about names for the baby!" Ellie over exaggerates, acting completely disgusted from you and Joel holding hands.

Joel shoots Ellie a death glare as he drops his hand from yours momentarily, about to open his mouth before you interrupt. "Do I need to send you to your room, or something? You're so fucking crazy Elle!" You had let the little nick name slip out of your mouth, "You know I would never do anything unholy under the same roof as you." Well, you weren't lying. You and Joel never did it while Ellie was there, you didn't want anyone hearing what happened while you two were alone.

"Don't care, that's gross! Dinner is already made, I am GOING TO BED!" She had yelled as she was already half way up the stairs to her room on the second floor. Joel's hand snaked around your waist from behind as you tsk. "We got stuck with the most batshit crazy kid, I'm telling you."

Joel's hand tightens a smudge when you say that, "I love her though, and you I guess." He rests his head between the crook of your neck and slightly lets go once you add that. Even after the little bicker between the teenager, you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

Even though you were in the midst of an apocalypse, life couldn't have been anymore good to you. They gave you Joel, and you were content - more than content - with it.

—

when you wash your hair, matt maltese

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be-my-ally · 4 months

Text

Snowballs and Kisses

Hello darlings!! Merry Christmas! I hope everyone celebrating has a wonderful day, and everyone for whom it is a usual monday has a better than usual start to the week!!

I have been MIA the last few weeks on here, but never fear I have been busy behind the scenes and hopefully more things and fics will be finished very soon!! I cannot wait for my little new year break, and *finally* catching up on all the stuff I've missed!! In the meantime as a ittle teeny tiny Christmas gift please enjoy this timeskip for my Splashing Around ‘verse to Christmas Eve 1960 and my shameless OC self insert of what I’d like to gift Elvis.

a/n not totally accurate weather references: it didn’t actually snow in memphis in the latter half of 1959 but, this is fanfiction after all and it *was* very cold november 18th 1959. (I also cut a whole 4k of angst that will come out at some point as a separate chapter, Anita getting a poodle, and the colonel dressed as santa because honestly i just wanted to write and read fluff, but here's a warning that there may end up being more festive fics posted…a little late).

warnings: 18+, smut lite; gentle fingering and references to cumming in pants. UNEDITED

Graceland - December 1960

The excitement of having Elvis back at home for the festive season was only slightly tempered by the knowledge that it was his first Christmas at home without his mother. He’d not really tried to celebrate properly in Germany; sure they’d done the best they could, and he raved about the gift of a fully dressed tree for weeks, but it hadn’t been the same as it would have been at home.

This year though, Elvis seemed determined to restore the festive spirit. Perhaps even further than just restoration - an attempt to make it as bright and jolly as possible in response to both his mother’s passing, and missing the last two. He’d bragged to anyone who would listen about how excited he was to give out presents, his plans for even more lights than ever before; signs and lawn decorations.

While Louise was excited, it had left her in an almost constant state of anxiety, Christmas wasn’t just about the gift-giving… but it was a large enough part of it that it’s where her mind immediately went. From the moment he suggested they hang at Graceland that first year, from the first time they’d all pored over the letter to Frances, and his promises to “have a ball next Christmas”, giggling and whispering about what fun they were going to have the following year. From all of those times Louise had been preoccupied with what to get him and whether her secret plan was good enough for Elvis of all people.

That first year he had reiterated to them all and was absolutely adamant no-one needed to gift him anything and wouldn’t hear of anything being sent over to him. But his frequent calls and mentions of the upcoming holiday belied his actual feelings and besides, Louise wanted him to feel special. Wanted him to know they’d been thinking of him as much as he must have missed being home. It wasn’t until the 27th of November and the slightest of snowfalls had occurred, tiny little snowflakes, delicately falling down when the temperature had dropped just enough for the rain to crystallise when a flash of inspiration hit her. She couldn’t send it, so instead she’d waited patiently, adding to her bundle throughout the months. Now that it was almost time to give it though she was second-guessing that two year decision. Was it too juvenile? It’s just so tricky to buy for the man who literally has anything he could ever wish for. As the festive period hurtles on she resigns herself to having to hunt for a back-up gift…maybe a nice sweater. Maybe that will do. Or maybe it’s best to have options.

Elvis’ melancholia about the holiday doesn’t seem to stretch into Christmas Eve, and he encourages them with all the enthusiasm he’s ever had. The party starts from mid-afternoon and stretches long into the evening and night with all the makings of an excellent time from the music to the food until eventually they all find themselves around the extravagant tree to exchange presents. It’s a little chaotic, so many people about and frequently someone’s having to dive from room to room to fetch people or hidden gifts. Louise finds it almost dizzying when she finally manages to take a seat on the long sofa, catching her breath from being sent to find someone. She was already finding herself struggling to think whenever she glanced over at Elvis - he looked outrageously good in a white shirt, black trousers - well, he looked outrageously good all the time at the moment - but there was something about the feeling in the air of the day that made it all the harder to act natural around him. Elvis had been quiet for a moment, but now he was sat on his armchair across the room, looking for all the world like a king on a throne ready to bestow his generosity on the peasants. Except, that’s not the feeling in the room at all; it’s jolly and wonderful, picture perfect - all of them slightly tipsy on champagne and vodka cocktails and finding the evening all the more entertaining for it. He announces he wants to give the presents that he’s bought everyone before he opens his own, and Louise dips her eyes when he hands her a little bow-tied box. No-one else’s comes with a ribbon and she strokes it, feeling a glow emanating from her stomach and chest as she imagines his nimble fingers tying it on, totally ignoring the fact that she knows someone else probably wrapped it for him. Still, she tugs it off to hide from the others - not wanting to be teased about how such a little gesture has made her blush so strongly - and tucks it into her palm, fully intending on slipping it into her shoe or around her wrist in a moment, knowing she’ll keep it forever - wear it in her hair like a declaration.

When she looks back up everyone has a similar box and she opens it quickly in case they’re all the same - she doesn’t want to ruin her surprise. There, nestled in a little velvet box is a ring, a huge, gaudy red stone in the centre, almost too big for her finger. Louise is transfixed, staring at it, barely a thought in her head as she tries to wrap her head around the way it sparkles in the light. Despite the size of the gem, the band was more than a little small when she tries to slip it on, and she quietly puts it back into the box, not wanting to draw attention to her apparently larger than expected fingers. She glances around, suddenly coming out of her shocked obliviousness. Her face falling when she realises that everyone around her is unboxing similarly precious jewellery. She’s resigning herself to having to sneak it off to get it resized and hating herself a little for it, wondering if there are exercises she could do or maybe a special diet to shrink her fingers to size, when she suddenly realises all the other girls are turning each-other around, kissing Elvis on the cheek in thanks, or asking him to clasp their new necklaces. Louise looks back down at her box and the others. What does a ring mean? It’s been gifted with such casualness that it can’t possibly mean anything can it? When she looks back up Elvis is staring right at her, and she makes eye contact with him - her wide eyes meeting his laughing ones. He winks, and turns back to Red. She tries her best to distract herself from it, ooh and aahing over everyone else’s and keeping quiet about the little box clutched tight in her hand.

Half hour later Elvis is admiring his own little haul, when he catches her eye again,

“You forget about me Lou?” Louise cringes at being called out so publicly,

“Of course not!” She looks around the room, at the large group gathered there, “No, uh, why don’t you, well I’ve gotten you something else….It’s a sweater. It’s not great really, but I… your real gift I’ve made you, but,” She swallows building her courage, unsure why she’s so nervous suddenly when she’d been so excited for so long; the whole idea just seemed juvenile and silly now. “… you’ve gotta follow me for it.” He stares into her eyes for a second, before nodding and standing up, gesturing at her as if to say ‘lead the way’.

He grins at the boys when they walk out, making a salacious movement as if to suggest her gift may not be all too family-friendly to accompanying guffaws of laughter. She ignores it, even as her tummy churns; should she be offering that? Is that what he wants these days?

“Don’t laugh.” She asks nervously as they walk into the little pantry. Elvis looks bemused to find himself there, leaning against the wall of the tiny space

“I won’t” Louise nods, shutting the door, only to hear Elvis giggle, “You tryin’ to get me alone, doll?”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“One hell of a christmas present! to be locked in a cupboard with a pretty little gal.”

She rolls her eyes, wiggling past him to get to the freezer,

“Close your eyes.” He obediently does so, and she reaches into an old box of ice-cream to pull out a Tupperware, “Hold your hands out.” And she puts it in his cupped fingers, “Ok…open.” He blinks down at the Tupperware.

“Um. Well, thanks, I’m uh, sure this will be useful.” Louise rolls her eyes, impatiently tugging off the lid herself, “Oh.” Elvis goes silent, staring at the three perfect, teeny snowballs balanced in the tub. Each resting upon a little piece of paper with Louise’s very best cursive handwriting spelling out the date; December 12th 1958, 18th November 1959, and 20th December 1960.

The silence stretches as Elvis stares at the box, and Louise starts to ramble nervously, “I was starting to panic this year, but at least I’d thought to pick some up back in January — it snowed so heavy on the 5th. I think it was, or maybe the 15th? I’ll have to check my diary… so I mean it isn’t entirely accurate that it’s all from the 20th - but I mean, I had to have something and well I know how much you loved it when, when your mother… and I wanted you to know I’ve been thinkin’ of you non-stop while you were away. So, here, the first snow from the garden from every year you missed.” Elvis is still staring at the box, one finger poking each little round ball.

“This really snow from two years ago?”

“Uh-huh… I mean I don’t know what you’re gonna do with it now, but it really is… been in that box in the freezer this whole time…I hid it from everyone. Every time someone said they wanted some ice cream I panicked.”

“Lou.”

“‘M sorry this is really stupid, god - what are you gonna do with some snowballs, I should’ve gone in with the other girls, got you something really good… I just - well, I thought you’d like it and I know you misse-”

“Baby, I don’t, I don’t know what to say. I… I didn’t think anyone would think of me like this, like mama did, ever again. I - well, thank you, Lou darling, this is, well, its the best damn gift I’ve ever gotten.” He grabs her arm, tugging her to him - pressing a hard kiss to her forehead, the force of it surprising her. “I’m gonna show everyone - c’mon - quick before they melt.” He runs out of the kitchen, leaving Louise to follow meekly behind.

He shows them off like he’s a new father, proudly holding them up in the box, delicately picking one of them up and sighing at it, holding it up at the light for everyone to marvel at. It’s a little ridiculous in some ways - everyone in the room had been gifted something hugely lavish, and yet the thing everyone was talking and gossiping at was a snowball.

Hours later the party finally winds down enough that Louise realises she’s one of the last few stragglers of a night so late it’s turned into Christmas morning. How she’d ended up in this position she’ll never know, and she questions it herself as she stands quietly in the doorway, watching Elvis fumble on the piano. Just his fiddling is beautiful, little snippets of remembered carols, before he hammers onto the keys, singing along to Santa Claus is Back in Town. Louise can’t help the breathy gasp that escapes her and he looks up at her, smiling almost teasingly, perfect glint in his eye as he pauses for a second to run a hand through his hair before he continues for another verse and a half. He stops almost abruptly, standing up to stretch before turning to her. She’s trying to find the words to explain how beautiful it was, how perfect he sounds - how she can feel it throughout her whole being, but before she can express those sentiments he’s in front of her and grasping her hand.

“C’mon,” He tugs her over to the armchair he’d been sat in earlier in the evening, “Over here hon, that’s it - you’re the last.” Elvis throws himself onto the chair, holding onto her, pulling her stumbling body against his. “You’re the last of my girls left…” He sighs melodramatically and Louise giggles uncontrollably back at him. She’d had an illicit two glasses and a half of champagne earlier in the evening; Elvis had playfully wagged his finger at her as she’d accepted it from Red although she’d seen him have more than a few drinks himself. She can feel the bubbles still settling into her tummy and head, fuzzing her thoughts a little and making her giggly and affectionate. Still, she wasn’t so tipsy she couldn’t call out his overdramatic behaviour.

“They’ve just gone home for the night. They’ll be back tomorrow I’m sure.” She shakes her head. He ignores her, crying out,

“I’m all alone!” He tugs her by her elbow, catching her as she stumbles into his lap, pulling her onto him, flattening her wide skirt. It wasn’t really the fashion anymore but while she’d been momentarily hesitant about her holiday dress she wasn’t self-conscious, and she liked how it made her shape look. Some might suggest the bow and petticoats were juvenile, but it made her feel more adult than the tighter styles that were starting to become popular with her peers, more herself than playing dress-up.

She snuggles under his arm, head pillowed on his chest, cheeks pressed against the little buttons of his shirt. He pretends to choke at her hair brushing his nose, using his free hand to flatten it under his chin and she grins, shivering against him as his breath tickles her skin. They stay cuddled for a few moments, sinking into the kind of happy exhaustion that seems to only occur on holidays. It feels different than before, although Elvis is more similarly carefree than she’d seen him in a long time. He’d grown up a lot over the years she hadn’t seen him, or so it felt, and his adultness didn’t match the image of him playing and fooling around that she had in her head. It’s an awful feeling, she thinks, that even with him right there, surrounding her, she still longs for a little more of the playfulness of the past.

Suddenly though Elvis shifts, interrupting her thoughts and murmuring against the top of her head,

“Y’hear that?” Louise stops breathing, and all she can hear is the solid thump-thump of his heart against her ear, he waits a second but she can’t work out what he’s referring to and doesn’t respond, he gasps “There it is again! Do you hear it?”

Louise shakes her head against him, frowning a little, “No?” She tries really hard to listen out, but other than the faintest hint of the music from the boys in the other room she can’t hear a thing. “The music?”

“No! No, listen.” He puts his finger to his lips, shushing her,

“I really don’t hear anything Elvis.” He wraps his arm around her waist a little tighter, tugging her up so she was sat more upright on his knee, her face close to his. He whispers into her ear,

“I think I hear hooves…” Louise frowns,

“Hooves!?” God, it would be just her luck that he’d gone and bought her a horse or something, and she’d have to act grateful even though she was terrified of them.

“Mmhmm, that’s right.” His hand rises up to brush across her back gently, fingertips dancing around her side, “Hooves. Hooves and bells.” He pauses for dramatic effect, jabbing his finger into her side in a tickling poke. His voice dips lower, as his arm squeezes around her, “Someone must have been a good girl this year.”

Louise grins when she realises what he’s implying and couldn’t bring herself not to play along.

“…You think it’s Santa Claus?!”

“Hmm, definitely…who else would it be, on the roof with hooves and bells on Christmas eve?” She giggles, both in response to his kind-natured teasing and his fingers poking her side with an exaggerated motion.

“Oh, I wonder what he’ll leave in my stocking…” Elvis hums against her hair,

“Mmm. Coal.”

“Nooo!” She giggles back to him, “You just said I’ve been a good girl!”

“You’ve been a very good little girl.” His voice has hit that low pitch that immediately sends a jolt down her spine, right into the pit of her stomach and she swallows, trying to keep up with the joke.

“Well, I’m, uh, I’m sure I’ll like whatever it is.”

“Mmhmm….” His hand brushes up her leg, “Bet ya I’ll like what’s in your stockings more…”

“Elvis!” She shrieks, playfully batting his hand away, he pulls it off of her, smoothing down her skirt, and resting it onto her lap for a moment. Louise feels her breath catching as he presses a kiss to the side of her head, brushing her hair out of the way and shifting her on his thigh so that she’s facing him. It’s almost a struggle for her to meet his eyes, she felt so desperate for his attention - but there was nowhere else to look that made her feel any less heated. His hair, god even his eyebrows were Elvis-enough to make her squirm. It’s only a second of him kissing her jaw, before she’s gasping for him, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s grabbing his hand and shoving it back on her thigh.

She’d kept herself for him, even as it felt that she’d been playing before, doing it for someone who would never notice or care - ostensibly in general, but really if she was truthful - for him. She’d touched herself, hadn’t been able to resist the temptation, especially after his deep voice came through the phone - but the other boys, the boys in school, the ones with blue collar jobs and careers, had all lost their appeal whenever she imagined kissing them, and her imagination interposed the image and feeling of him, his slippery body in the pool, the feel of him in front of her on the bike. He was thinner now, even still, than he was before, puppy fat replaced with lean muscles. His face shape changed just the tiniest bit, perhaps unnoticeable to some, but so very obvious to her, cheekbones and chin more angular than before. But his lips feel the same as they did before he left, and since his return home - she’d expected they’d have lost their eager nature, but still she can feel the hint of desperation as he presses them against her jaw.

She gasps, rocking against him as he roves down her neck - a place no one else has ever touched, tiny points of pressure feeling like a heat was expanding across her neck and chest, matching the clench of her thighs. His hand gently strokes up her stockings before he hitches her up, capturing his mouth with hers and shoving her underlayers up to her waist in the abrupt movement. Louise moves with him, desperate to stay in contact with his lips and she moans in upset when he starts to pull away.

“C’mon baby,” He whispers, “C’mon, Lou-Lou let me - let me say thank you,” He’s barely audible as he speaks against her lips between pressing bruising kisses onto them, “I just - wanna, wanna make you feel good, Lou doll.” She gasps out her agreement, eyes falling closed and her head falling into his shoulder as his fingers find their way to rub against the silk of her underwear. He shifts her again, balancing her so she can rock against his thigh and his hand, whilst also rubbing her leg against his covered crotch. Louise is almost surprised at the heat of him against her thigh, but her curiosity has no chance to be satisfied when he hooks a finger under the leg band of her panties, totally distracting her from anything but the feel of him under her and attempting to stay somewhat upright. His finger feels softer than she’d imagined, and yet, in comparison to her own the pads feel foreign, rougher and surer than hers ever were sliding into the wetness they find there.

“God, you’re so soft baby, so fucking soft in here, perfect for me, you been waiting on me, honey?”

“Uh-huh, waited, waited so long for you Elvis - didn’t, I didn’t want anyone but you.” He groans in response, his fingers moving faster. Until he’s forced to stop, tangled in the fabric and he growls in frustration. Louise feels it go straight down her body, and her thighs clench, trapping his hand even more. He pauses for barely a second to manhandle her up, just enough to roughly tug her panties down enough that it’s now entirely her bare skin rubbing against his hand and clothed thigh, the fibres of his trousers almost giving her a friction burn with her rapid movements. He continues as he was a second earlier, but now with far easier access he’s able to swipe his fingers across her clit, taking her to the edge almost immediately. She has no idea if this was something he’s always done well, or if this is a trick he’d picked up while he was away, but whatever the reason she was grateful. She doesn’t even consider how they were still, essentially, in public, too distracted by his slender fingers to be concerned about her now partial nudity. The only noise to break up their combined breathy moans is the layers of of taffeta rustling between them, as she continues to rock against his thigh, but this all changes when he delves his thumb into her wetness, bringing it back up to stroke circles on her clit, gently but repeatedly running it over her.

“Oh, Elvis?” She cries out,

“What baby? You’re so - I can feel you’re close,” His own breathing is getting heavier, and he holds her steady with his other hand grasping her thigh while his thumb continues to stroke her,

“I don’t - I don’t…” She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say, and before she manages to turn it into a complete sentence she’s shaking on him as she rides out her orgasm. He sees her through it, continuing to stroke her with the same pressure before rapidly shoving his hand down his own pants, roughly rubbing himself off to quick completion. She watches him closely, unable to do anything but stare as his own eyes slide closed, head falling back against the couch and mouth opening as he gasps out a high-pitched moan. It was about enough to make her shudder again against his thigh, the look on his face, his mussed hair, open collar and the noises of sheer pleasure. Louise finds herself bouncing on his chest as he breathes rapidly from the effort, and he holds her tight for a few moments while they both regain use of their limbs. Louise feels almost a little shell-shocked and she only really comes to her senses when Elvis shifts, wiping his hand on his trousers with a grimace and patting her thigh,

“Gosh that was, I, um, thank you El,” He grins at her, clearly pleased with his success, and he pats her leg again,

“Thank you, honey, for just about the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me earlier baby, it was just - I’m gonna treasure them snowballs forever, you’ll see.” She grins back at him before an unstoppable yawn takes over her face, “C’mon lil girl, time for bed.” She gulps, thinking about all the people on the house - worrying what will happen next,

“D’you…where am I gonna sleep?” Elvis frowns, little furrowed line marring his previously relaxed face,

“With me?”

“Oh,” Louise swallows, “Um, I think my parents will be expecting me - you know, Christmas morning’s all about -“

“Don’t worry honey, I’ll drop you home at the crack of dawn,” He winks, “-gotta make sure the house is all in order in any case anyway.” Elvis pauses, “Or, or you could invite your mama and pops over. They’d be more than welcome…nothing my mama liked more than a full house - especially at Christmas.” He’s looking at her with that earnest little boy expression again and it takes everything in her not to just suggest she should stay forever, it was so absurd that he’d want her to stay, instead of the other way around.

“Well…maybe I could stay. And, well, I mean, I could come over in the evening? If you swear you’ll make sure I get home in time -“ He’s quick to interject,

“Cross my heart darling,” She hums at him, and he motions the crossing of his heart across his chest, solemnly holding eye contact, “I swear.”

“Ok then, I’d love to stay.”

Somehow, and (despite his promises) to Louise’s surprise, she’s dutifully shaken awake and dropped off home, albeit not by Elvis himself, only a few very short hours later. Coming up the driveway of her childhood home it feels almost inconceivable that she should have spent the day and night how she has, and she wonders for a brief moment if she hadn’t knocked her head or something and just hallucinated the whole affair. She’s so in her thoughts that she doesn’t yet notice, as she traipses past the lounge and kitchen where she can hear her mother singing to quickly change, a new set of boxes under the Christmas tree. Elvis’ script on the gift tags declaring “To Louise, a very good girl, from Santa.”

taglist: (it's been so long that I've lost the list for this verse - lmk if you want to be added, or taken off!)

@lialocklear @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @thatbanditquee @lookingforrainbows @whositmcwhatsit @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @shakerattlescroll

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #be-my-ally #splashing around #elvis x louise

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catofthecanals289 · 5 months

Note

i would love a max wants to propose snippet plzzz

i've posted this before ages ago, hope it holds up ;)

“So, are you going to spend the entire evening on your phone?” Victoria asks, as she sits down on the couch next to him, causing him to reflexively put down his phone –face down.

It’s not really fair of her to tease him like this, not when he literally hasn’t been on his phone all night and only picked it up when she got up to dump their takeout containers in the trashcan of the apartment Max only ever stays in when he has to be in Milton Keynes for more than a day or two in one go. It’s not that he minds hotels and that the apartment feels much different than one with as little time as he spends there, but still. He already lives in hotels half the year it feels like, it’s nice to have a place that he can at least call home even if it’s not. Plus, Victoria likes to use it when she makes a weekend trip to London. Although that has gotten less too, with the two kids and all. Which-

“Have you called him yet?” he asks in counter to her little jab, causing her to roll her eyes.

“These kind of news are best delivered in person.” Gently she places a hand on her stomach, soft smile on her lips, despite the challenging glint in her eyes.

He’s the first person to know, this time, and only because it’s his bathroom she took the test in and Max still feels a little crazy about it all –his little sister being pregnant with her third baby. Only him and her knowing –the only two people in the world. It makes him feel like he’s eight years old again, the both of them whispering secrets to each other under the covers of his bed, trying to block out their parents’ yelling.

No one’s yelling now, and Max isn’t scared. He’s just happy for her. Her and her little family.

It’s not what gave him the idea –he’s been toying with it for a while, if he’s being honest- but it’s what had spurred him to finally typing the words into the search bar, fingertips a little bit sweaty.

“Max?” Victoria says, head tilted slightly. “Where’s your head?”

He snorts. “Right here.”

“Mhm.” She looks at him skeptically, then after a moment, giving him a slight nudge she asks: “Everything good with Daniel?”

Flushing a little, Max nods, his phone feeling hot in his hands. “Uh, yeah. He’s in Surrey today, but he said he’d be here tomorrow. Or maybe tonight, depending how quickly they finish up.”

“Is that why you’ve been glued to your phone?” Victoria asks, teasing tone back in her voice. “Because you’re waiting for him to tell you that he’s on his way?”

“No.”

Max rolls his eyes, for good measure. It’s maybe only half true, because Max is definitely looking forward to Daniel and him being in the same place again, but it’s not what he’s been doing on his phone, which- He shoots her a glance ,hesitant for a moment, before he realizes how fucking stupid that is because it’s Victoria. His little sister. She’s probably the person he’s closest to, right up there with Daniel and his mom. And it’s not like he can tell Daniel about this just yet.

“I’ve been, uhm.” He clears his throat, unlocking his phone again so he can thumb open the website he’s been scrolling through before she interrupted him. “Looking at stuff. At –these.”

He holds out his phone to her.

She takes it, eyes already wide.

“Max…” she says, softly after barely a moment. “You’re going to-”

“Yes,” he says, and fuck, what a terrifying thing to admit, despite the wave of excitement that surges up inside of him at the thought. It’s crest is made of fear. That Daniel will say no. That he’ll say yes, and Max won’t be good enough for him to not regret it. That it’s a stupid, little fantasy, nothing more, and most of all that-

“-I’ll have to tell dad. About me and Daniel,” he says, as Victoria scrolls down the website, looking at the quite limited number of engagement rings made for men, and the endless selection for women. “I know that. If we get married then- Yeah. And I know that dad isn’t going to like it, but I want-” He exhales, gesturing to his phone. “-that. I want to ask him. And I want him to say yes, and I don’t know. Be fucking married to him.”

He thinks about Daniel wearing a ring on his finger, a ring that Max put there and not just as an expensive gift but as a promise, a vow. He thinks about having a paper signed by the both of them putting a name to what they have that they don’t need but Max wants anyway. He thinks about waking up every morning knowing that Daniel married him. That he looked at Max and just fucking picked him. Chose him. Is choosing him. Every day for the rest of their lives. Or life. Together.

And Max knows, he knows that he doesn’t need a marriage certificate to trust that Daniel is committed to him and it’s not even about that really, knows that his issues, his worries and doubts, they’ll always be there for Max to work on, but he wants it anyway.

He wants to be Daniel’s and for Daniel to be his.

“Max, I think that’s wonderful,” Victoria says, eyes shiny. “Really, really wonderful. Shit.”

Pulling him into a hug, she squeezes him tightly.

“He’s going to say yes, I know it, I just know it,” she says, a she holds her back just as tightly, before letting go. “And dad, he’ll just have to deal. It’ll be fine. It’ll be- Fuck. We need to find a proper ring. Shit. We should go to London tomorrow, go to some actual stores instead of-” She waves dismissively at his phone.

“Daniel’s coming here tomorrow though,” Max reminds her. Or tonight. If I’m lucky, tonight.

“Well, he’ll just have to entertain himself then,” Victoria says, unbothered, a gleeful look on her face. “Fuck. I’m going to have another baby, and you’ll be getting married. And win another world championship. This is going to be our year, Max. You hear me? Our year.”

“Hey. Don’t jinx me. Don’t jinx us,” he says, cheeks flushed, just as his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

It’s from Daniel.

finishing up now! See you in two hours [kiss emoji]

Max can’t help but smile.

hurry is all he texts back.

#drabble in answer to ask #wip folder

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thatfreshi · 5 months

Text

"Quit" (Uni AU P. 17)

GUYS IT'S BEEN SO LONG BUT FRESHIAU IS BACK! Sorry for the hell of a cliffhanger I gave you, whoopsies :)

tw - mentions of abuse, hospitalization

The next half-hour is a blur unlike any you've known before. You, Gale, and Karlach pile into the art student's shitty mini-van.

"I'm sure he's okay Tav."

Karlach tries to give you an assuring hand on the shoulder, but you think back to the phone call, the way the nurse wouldn't tell you anything, how you yelled in the middle of a damn cafe. It would be embarrassing if you didn't know the stakes that were in this trip to the hospital, that Astarion isn't the type for medical assistance unless it's absolutely necessary.

Other than Karlach's comment and the occasional flick of a blinker, the car is almost entirely silent. Gale drops you off at the front before leaving to park, and your tall friend stays by your side as you enter the sterile, sad building. When you get to the desk, she speaks on your behalf.

"We got a call that Astarion Ancunín was admitted here?"

"What's your relation to the patient?"

Karlach hesitates, before pushing you forward slightly.

"Well I'm just his friend, but my pal Tav here is his spouse!"

You give her a slightly concerned look, but soften when you know she just wants you to be able to see him.

"You can come back this way Tav."

It's all so quick and without feeling. Truthfully, you know medical professionals deal with this kind of thing on the daily, but the lack of concern for him makes you a little sick to your stomach. The words of your guide fall on deaf ears when you make it to his room, rushing in before she can even finish her sentence. She closes the door behind you as you're met with Astarion, your dear Aster, who looks far more beat down than usual.

"How in the hell did you manage to get back here?"

He asks with a slight smirk, the bags under his eyes far more noticeable than before. You can't help but smile at his charm, but replace it with a bitter expression soon after.

"That's not important right now. What happened?"

The urge to yell and scream is kept at a simmer, and instead your voice is kept soft, like plush moments of reading law papers, like falling asleep with your best friend, like cheap espresso and designer fabrics.

"Severe dehydration I suppose. I passed out, and Petras called an ambulance, which I'm sure got him beat to no end. Stupid decision if you ask me."

"Oh, so you quite literally pass out, and your first reaction is to think about Petras?"

He ponders your words for a moment as you finally sit at the edge of the bed.

"Trust me... I've already had plenty of time to think about just how bad this was. Thankfully when I lost consciousness I only bruised my poor arm, but the doctor said it could've been much worse. Heat stroke, seizures-"

"Okay, let's maybe not talk about all of that."

You start to cry, finally, after a panic-induced state of adrenaline begins to wear off. You get a notification from the group chat. Gale says Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and Wyll Ubered over. You show your phone to him.

"Look, everyone showed up."

You smile softly, feeling a trail of tears hit your lip. It tastes salty.

"Of course they did. You all are far too sappy."

"Oh shut it Aster. We were worried."

"Well it's fine now, right? The issue is resolved, so everyone can go home, including you Tav."

You scoff.

"Fat chance. Besides, Karlach kind of told the nurse that I'm your spouse, so it looks weird if I leave now."

"She did what?"

"Yeah, trust me, it was weird."

He gets a little nervous, showing his age for once, that deep down he's still a 20-something-year-old kid. It stays silent for a little bit, and you listen to the monitors in the room, the almost silent IV drip, the steps of people walking up and down the halls. Your listening is interrupted by a tapping on the bed, Astarion trying to get your attention.

"Yeah?"

"I know I struggle to say it sometimes, well, most times, but I do rather appreciate that you came... that all of you came, but you in particular."

You want to be able to appreciate his words, but the fear that lingers beneath doesn't let you rest.

"I don't want to do it again. I don't know if my heart can handle doing all of this again."

"What else would you have me do darling?"

You know what you want to say, and you know what his response will be, but the words leave your mouth anyways.

"Quit. I want you to quit."

He goes to interrupt you, but you put a finger up to shush him, and he obliges.

"I know it feels impossible. I know you've signed how many documents and that you need the money, but you six incredible friends now that can help you through this. Think about it: if you blackout all your socials, stop showing up, what can he really do about it? Cazador can't get on campus. You'd be safe there, and it will look so bad for his image if you suddenly disappear that he'll be scrambling for PR anyways! I think you can do this, that we can do this."

"And what about the money?"

"Student loans? And we can all pitch in when we have extra. And you could pick up a job on campus, maybe something in the law library?"

You're trying to be inspiring, but looking at him like this makes it hard.

"Why do you keep trying so much for me? Truly, you've wasted so much breath on me, even in this moment."

Somehow those sad questions still catch you off-guard. You put a hand on his.

"I don't think I can even word it right Aster. Even if I tried, I don't think the words would make sense, that any of it would make sense to either of us. Just accept that I'm here, trying for you, okay?"

"Okay... then I'll try too. I'll try your ridiculous plan Tav."

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #angst #comfort #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #freshiau

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nucifraga · 4 months

Text

So, how old are the grandpas of the apocalypse really? Ft. - Jonah Magnus - Simon Fairchild - Peter Lukas - Maxwell Rayner

I MADE A PART 2 OF MY CHARACTER AGES RESEARCH (part 1 incl. og archives crew, 3 avatars + gerry here) after a few days of really wanting to detective the ages of this lot, i finally caved and decided to dig out the magnifying glass! same disclaimers apply! including an extra disclaimer to say that I've changed the formatting for this a lil because there was a Lot More Research done compared to part 1. Necessitated bc these mfs are OLD. (except for peter lukas. peter lukas is surprisingly young??)

(All ages are as of S1 / 2016 & the highlights are in bold if you don't feel like reading my essays)

Jonah Magnus

Age: ~216 Birth Year: ~1800

There are a few landmarks we can use, but because of how shady most are (old-ass letters) I also can’t pin down any solid dates because all the characters involved are fictional ._. Basically the only clues I got were: The Magnus Institute was established in 1818, but Jonah was old enough to travel alone to Germany and exchange letters with a friend (Albrecht von Closen) by 1816. So birthdate around ~1800? 1790?

I tried to find an ‘upper limit’ by using the life expectancy of the time since he also was able to live a ‘natural’ life until the (failed) Watcher’s Crown was carried out ‘at some point closely after February 13th, 1867’, BUT the average life expectancy of men was at most 41 years. So there was some Fairchild-esque shit going on there.

Simon Fairchild

Age: 439 - 488 Birth Year: 1528 - 1577

SPEAKING OF FAIRCHILD - sky grandpa! love him, he’s such a bastard. Anyway, in his own words, he’s had ‘an absurdly long life’. In MAG151 he says he was apprenticed to the Italian artist Tintoretto. Apprenticeships in the Renaissance started at approximately 11-14 years old & lasted for 1-8 years, and I’m assuming this was the same for the 1500s. Hopefully.

Given that Tintoretto became a renowned artist in ~1542, my estimate of the oldest Simon could be would be 14 in 1542. On the other end of the scale, Wikipedia says that his last notable work was Il Paradiso, finished from 1588–1594. I can’t find any mention of works post-1588 so this puts the absolute youngest Simon could be at 11 years old in 1588. From those two estimates, it was just a matter of mathing it out :)

Note 1: Simon mentions that his Becoming was while painting a church, likely a ceiling or high wall since he ‘should have broken his neck’, which should narrow it down – except it doesn’t, because Tintoretto painted a lot of churches x_x Note 2: I’ve just spent half an hour researching an Italian painter & art conventions in the 16th Century, which is of no relevance at all to my STEM degree in the 21st century. Simon’s age doesn’t even particularly matter because it was so long ago that the centuries quite literally blur together. This rabbit hole is incredibly fascinating, but this feels so ironically pointless, which is really, really fitting. Note 3: Simon definitely deserved to get ripped apart by the mob. His time has long, long passed lmao

Peter Lukas

Age: ~49-61 (at the very youngest; 36) Birth Year: late 1950s - late 1960s

Peter appears to be the youngest of these four – surprisingly so! – which makes it a lot simpler to pin down his age. He first meets JamesWright!Jonah between 1973 and 1996 & also he was old enough to have the option of watching TV when he was a child. TV became common in UK homes in the 1960s, so his birthdate at the earliest may be in the late 1950s/1960s.

However, he’s known Jonah as ‘Elias’ for most of their acquaintance by late 2018, meaning that they met at the earliest 1975 (21 years before 1996), but was probably more like 1980ish or later. I don’t think he would have met him too long after becoming an avatar some time after he became ‘old enough to run away’, which I’m assuming means he became aware of the Lonely when teenager-ish.

But spending some time on the Tundra before meeting other avatars makes sense for the Lonely, and so my vague estimate of his birth year would be late 1950s - late 1960s. I don’t think that his birthdate was anywhere later, though it is possible that it could have been as late as 1980 (if he began running away when very young & was introduced to ‘James Wright’ very early into avatar-hood), if incredibly unlikely.

Note: My ‘very youngest’ estimate for Peter Lukas is… younger than my estimate for Mike Crew’s age. I find this inordinately funny.

Maxwell Rayner

Age: 357 Birth Date: 8 November 1658

I have excellent news for Rayner! Good ol’ Jonny has made his original body Edmond Halley. A very famous person with a wikipedia page of his own that conveniently states his date of birth :)

Thanks, Jonny.

Rayner died in February 2017 at the age of 358 years 3 months 2 days, though he did spend a decent amount of time host-less. Unlike Gerard Keay, I’m unsure of how ‘alive’ he was during this time, so I’m just going to count it as ‘alive’-time because it means I get precise numbers for the first time since I started researching character ages!

#tma spoilers #tma #the magnus archives #jonah magnus #elias bouchard #james wright #character ages #simon fairchild #maxwell rayner #edmond halley #peter lukas #tma research #tma headcanons

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strrvnge · 2 years

Text

Jealous Girl

Stephen Strange x reader

Summery: you've been invited to Christine's wedding as Stephen's plus one and while you're worried about getting late Stephen doesn't mind.

Warnings: MDI, smut 18+, oral(f receiving), doggy style, creampie, slight daddy kink, mirror kink, unprotected sex (no mirrors where harmed while writing this)

‘’Oh my goodness we’re going to be so late’’, you exclaimed with a huff as you entered the bedroom where Stephen, confused stood in front the mirror staring at his tie, as if tying it was a geometry problem.‘’Come here’’

Turning around Stephen smirked as he saw your half-zipped dress, its straps loosely falling off your shoulders bringing out your already deep v-line.

‘’Eyes up here gentleman’’, you chuckled while tying his tie.

‘’It's not my fault. You look awfully stunning’’ he gave you a cheeky smile and grabbed you by your hips.

"Stephen, stop! We're already running late" you lightly poked him on the chest and returned to zipping your dress.

"I didn't know you were so eager to go to my ex girlfriend's wedding"

Obviously you weren't. You've been going out with him for a while and even though you trusted him he told you how hard it was for him to get over Christine and you couldn't help but be a little jealous. How highly he spoke of her about her kind and sweet character and then many years it took him to move on…you couldn’t help but ask yourself whether he would miss you that much too.

And then the invitation came and despite trying to play it cool and not overthink but you felt like exploding. So when he asked you to come with him you were both shocked and pleased.

"I'm not. You are, so I'm making sure we'll be there before the wedding finishes. Hopefully" you said, reaching back, trying to finally zip your dress so you can get over it "Stephen, help with the zip please?"

"My pleasure"

From the mirror you watched as his gaze lingered on your bare back and then like a highschool boy his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he realised you weren't wearing a bra.

"Up Stephen, up", you reminded him, feeling the zip going down till the small of your back where your underwear started.

"Right. You just look so beautiful" With a sly grin he kissed your shoulder before pushing your hair to the side to suck the newly exposed skin.

Still licking and nipping your neck, his face was shoved in your neck, his warm hands slided past your dress and glided up-and-down your ribs and waist. Your head fell on his shoulder, your tensed muscles instantly loosening up giving in his warm touch.

"Stephen the wedding", you muttered quietly and he looked up to your reflection with a smirk.

"It's not ours darling. No one cares if we get there late" He said playfully as he cupped your bare breast and tweaked your stiff nipple making you whine. "Come on we can be a little bit late, I've been so neglected lately" he mumbled, his voice muffled in your neck. He hovered behind you like a shadow, his hard bulge pressed between your thighs making you gasp dramatically.

"I can tell" You chuckled, the memory of last night coming to your mind, when with literally every chance he had he accidentally touched you in order to take care of you properly. "I'm so sorry I've just been so stressed lately''

"Well let me relax you" Without waiting for a reply Stephen stripped you off your dress leaving you only in your pink thong that matched your dress. His hand roamed down your stomach to cup your clothed core before pussing two fingers into it. Your jaw slightly dropped and instinctively you opened your legs further in hopes of his fingers touching you somewhere deeper.

"Maybe we should go to bed" you said and gulped, your throat suddenly feeling dry.

God you’ve missed him so much. One whole week of overthinking about your relationship where you were going, if he saw a future with you. You knew it was hard for him talking and understanding his feelings but you had to know. So for one whole week since the invitation came you didn’t want him to touch you too caught up with those torturous thoughts. But fuck your body needed him and in that suit he was just too fuckable to let the opportunity slip.

"Someone's shy. Why do you mind the mirror?" he tilted your head finding that sweet spot on your neck and sucked it harshly.

‘’No marks Stephen please’’ you moaned but he didn’t stop. He missed your sweet perfume, your sinful moans of his name, your body that always took him so well.

"I think you look lovely here. Why don't you take off your panties for daddy?I mean they're already too wet for you to wear anyways"

Obediently you took them off, letting them meet your dress on the floor before you pushed them both aside with your feet.

"There you go" one of his hands ran down yours before he took your wrist and placed your palm against the mirror. The other grabbed your hips,bending you over nothing. "Listen, all I want you to do is be your beautiful self and just keep your eyes on the mirror while I take a quick taste. Can you do that for me sweetheart?"he asked while placing kisses on random places on your back.

You nodded obediently, your thoughts scattered all over the place too lost in the warm feeling he provided.

"Use your words darling"

"I can" Your eyes widened with shame, realising what was about to happen suddenly the presence of the mirror making you awfully self aware.

"Such a good girl I have" Stephen hummed with approval before he fell down on his knees, his hot breath hitting your wet pussy as he brought his face closer to your popped out ass. With his hand on your inner thigh he spread your legs further, revealing your leaking mold.

With his knees pressed against the cold bedroom floor he growled, inhaling its scent before he stared at your precious core.

"Look at that pussy-fuck I can't believe you didn't let me taste it for a week just because you were jealous of Christine"

Kissing the globes of your ass he gave your pussy a kitten lick strip taking a quick taste. Stephen's tongue opened your sensitive folds like petals, your juices coating his tongue, forcing a moan out of your dried throat.

"Eyes on the mirror love" You didn't realize you had squeezed shut your eyes all this time until he told you. You felt so dirty yet so good, touched after

With an open mouth you watched him roam in your pussy from behind, the loud noises of him sucking your petals harshly filling the room. "Oh my god, please, please…"

Your tick lashes fluttered in pleasure, as his tongue started teasing your hole. Your whole body was on fire, no words could explain how much you needed him, in your pussy, in your mouth, everywhere.

"My stupid girl jealous of another girl when all I want is you"

He groaned as you squirmed underneath him, sending soft vibrations to your aching core. Quickly he slurped up your juices and your legs trembled with his quick sudden movements. Your breath hitches and you feel yourself reaching closer to your high.

"Please, please" Hiccuping quiet whines and cries you begged for his cock his tongue now unable to ease your ingrowing heat.

"Add your finger darling" Raising up from behind you he looked at you, his beard had traces of your arousal.

Taking your middle finger, your touch trailed between your legs, your slick and Stephen's saliva coating it. You watched in the mirror as your finger pushed past your walls, your jaw dropped with a silent 'o'.

"You're so fucking pretty. Your head empty and I haven't even fuck you yet" he said mostly to himself as his hungry gaze lingered on how your finger disappeared inside your hungry pussy.

"I'm so close", you whined in frustration as your finger moved to quicker, deeper motions, your movements messy and desperate for release. With half open eyes you went after your high, a muffler of sweet whines and Stephe's name escaping your lips but before you could squirm he took your hand away from your aching core.

‘’Why?’’ Your eyes opened widely as your clit pulsates in the sudden emptiness frustration

"You didn't ask for permission now did you?" Trying to catch up your breath you stared at him with a pout, tears of frustration threatening to spill down your face.

Shame took over you as accidently you looked at your reflection, so pathetically bent over with spread ass your naked body full on display. Your once neatly styled bun was now a mess with locks of hair all over the place and a layer of sweat covering your face.

‘’What kind of person would I be if I didn’t fill you up before leaving the house?’’ With one hand he took his cock out of his pants.Your eyes lightened up as you watched him slowly stroking his meaty girth with a tight grip, pre cum leaking from his reddened tip.

"You want it baby?" he teased and you bit your lower lip and nodded eagerly. ‘’Of course you’’

He lined it up with your entrance before pushing the tip in making you moan in pleasure. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as he slided now fully in. Loudly he grunted at the sight of your pussy stretched around his cock, struggling desperately to take his veiny girth.

His thrust is slow and steady so he can watch your expressions as you try to adjust to his size and at the same time stay biting your lip to keep as quiet as possible.

"Don't hold back, you know how I love how loud you are" He mocked and with that you whimpered, making his cock harder.

"What too much? Only one week without my cock and you forgot how to take it?"

With his cock drenching with your cream he pushed out and if he hadn't grabbed your waist you knew you'd fall apart.

The room soon filled with sounds of skin slapping against yours and groans. His grinds became rough and fast, treating you like he’s just using your body for his pleasure.

"Oh god" Unable to contain your moan and cries your senses were in overdrive, you squeeze and clench around him, your whole body screaming for release.

"I need to cum, please I can't" You pleaded and Stephen swore he could spend an eternity listening to that sound. "Please?"A mix of mascara, tears and sweat ran down your cheeks and his cock twitched at your messy sight.

Your high hits suddenly, making you jerk under him, desperately searching for something to hold from. Your sweaty palm slipped from the mirror but before you could fall Stephen forced your hand back against the mirror with his atop of yours and the ather around your waist, to keep you still as he thrust inside you from behind.

You peered up at him with unfocused eyes

Animalistic growls left his mouth and you watched as his brows knitted together warning you he was coming close. His hard cock forcefully entered your cunt from behind hitting all the right places all at once. Each rough, fast pound of his pushed you further against the mirror, your hot breath fogging it up.

"Fuck-", he panted and his face twist in pleasure. His pounds became slopier and unsteady and soon your sensitive pussy was filled to the brim, his load leaking down your thighs. After a few moments he pulled and tucked his shirt back into his pants.

‘’You better hurry up or we’ll be late darling’’

#dr stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #dr strange x reader #dr strange x you #sinister strange x reader #benedict cumberbatch

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smartycvnt · 5 months

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My Girl

Title: My Girl

Pairing: Nick Jackson x Reader

Summary: Nick proposes to Y/n at a party.

Word Count: 736

Nick looked like a prince in his suit. Y/n hadn't been able to take her eyes off of him all night. She had never seen anybody else look so handsome before. Nick always looked great to Y/n, but tonight, there was something else to it. She was certain that she'd be chasing other girls away from by the end of the night when the drinks started to flow.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, Nick was having similar thoughts about her. The ring that he had bought four months into their relationship was burning a hole in his pocket as he started at her. The glam squad that Nick had hired for this event had gone above and beyond with their work.

Nick's heart had been beating a little faster all night because of Y/n. He swore that he got palpatations whenever she'd look over at him and smile. All he wanted was to get the stupid mingling part of this event over with so that he could go hang out at the bar with Y/n. She had been nursing the same drink for nearly an hour and a half as she waited for Nick to get finished.

"You really wanted trouble tonight, didn't you?" Kenny joked as he put his arm around Nick's shoulders. Nick didn't have to look over at his longtime friend to know that he was talking about Y/n. "More powerful men would have gone to literal war for a woman like that."

"I don't need an army to fight for her," Nick said. Kenny laughed it off as he turned his gaze over towards Kota. "She really is something, though, isn't she?"

"Always the most beautiful girl at the party, even if she didn't believe it until you told her," Kenny said. He had grown up with Y/n, and there had once been a time whenever he would have given anything to be in Nick's position. "Do you think you'll ask her tonight?"

"I think that I might." Nick slipped his hand into his pocket and fiddled with the ring a little. Kenny patted Nick's chest before he walked away. Nick quickly started and finished up a couple conversations with people who Tony wanted to meet with before he went over to the bar with Y/n.

"Finally, I was starting to get bored. These things aren't any fun without you next to me," Y/n told Nick. He blushed a little as Y/n leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Did I tell you that you look like an absolute dream tonight?"

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you." Nick smiled as he looked down at Y/n. The two of them fell into an easy silence as they watched everybody else at the party. Nick let his arm drape across Y/n's shoulders, and Y/n snuggled up against his side.

"I love you," Y/n said quietly. If it had been any louder, Nick would have missed it. Y/n wouldn't have been upset, she hadn't said it for any reason other than she wanted to. He had no obligation to say it back to her because Y/n knew that Nick loved her back.

"I feel so lucky to have you in my life. I know that we haven't talked about it a lot, but I want to marry you," Nick said. Y/n backed away from him a little to get a good look at him. She hoped that he was being serious. Her heart would have been shattered if he was joking with her.

"Really?" Y/n asked hopefully. "You're serious?"

"Deadly serious. I've known that you're the one I'm supposed to marry for almost a year now," Nick said. Y/n smiled as she reached up and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I've even got a ring."

"I guess you've got a question to ask me, don't you?" Y/n teased.

"Will you marry me?" Nick asked as he pulled the ring out of his pocket.

"Absolutely. It's all I want to do," Y/n answered. Nick slipped the ring onto her finger, holding back tears solely for the fact that there were people around them.

"I hope this lasts forever. You'll always be my girl. Mine and mine only," Nick said as he took Y/n's hand in his.

"Always," Y/n promised.

#my writing #one shot #aew x reader #aew #nick jackson x reader #nick jackson

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slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 10 months

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The Jimmy Fallon Show

Originally posted on my Wattpad @MayaBishop_is_myWife Scarlett Johansson x reader

Fluff

Scarlett's POV:

Tonight I'm going on the Jimmy Fallon with my co-stars show to promote my new movie. I'm really scared for this interview in particular as I've planned to announce something very big and my fans will probably go mental. For a while now there's been speculation around who I'm dating, if anyone and for some reason they always think it's a man. Now, that's what I'm announcing tonight, why it's not a man and, who it she really is.

Y/N POV:

Tonight is the night. The big night. I'm so scared how people are going to react, I mean it doesn't really matter what they think because me and Scar are happy together but, I can't help worrying sometimes. I'm currently in my dressing room behind the scenes at the Jimmy Fallon Show waiting to be called on. My palms are sweaty and my throat is dry. I need to calm down before I go on stage so I make my way over to the only person that can help.

I get to Scarlett's room and knock on the door.

Scarlett - "Who is it?"

Y/n - "It's me."

She opens the door to reveal my panicked face. Knowing immediately why I was like this, she pulled me in the room and trapped me in her embrace. As we were hugging she stroked my head, careful not to ruin all the work the hair and makeup team just did and whispers to me softly.

Scarlett - "Hey, it's gunna be fine. You know half of our fans are lesbians anyway so, I'm sure they won't mind and if it's the press your worried about then stop because they're all idiots and I couldn't care less what they say."

Her grip around my waist tightened as she spoke. I felt safe in her arms and I just kept reminding myself that it would be fine because even if someone does make a comment that me and Scar will always have each other and plus, the rest of the cast is there as well and they'll never let anything happen. We're all super protective over each other because after years of filming the Marvel films together we're basically family.

Our moment is rudely interrupted by a knock on the door.

Producer - "You're on in five!"

That didn't help the situation that I was in but, I'm an actress no one would know I was scared. I'll literally but my brave face on.

Time skip to half way through the show:

Scarlett's POV:

Jimmy - "So, Scarlett there have been some rumors going around that you are dating someone, do you have anything to say about this?"

Scarlett - "Well, uhm, I don't normally address rumors much but this one is necessary. I am with someone."

Jimmy - "Oooh I feel like a school girl, talking about who we're dating, so, does this mystery man have a name?"

Okay, here it goes. I think to myself.

Scarlett - "Well they mystery woman, is sitting right next to me."

The crowd instantly starts cheering and Jimmy had a smile plastered on his face. I felt someone grasp my hand tightly. I already know who it is but, I look anyway and see my gorgeous girlfriend to my left beaming at me. I was really happy it was out there now. I didn't need to hide my emotions anymore it felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest.

Y/N POV:

She did it. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, people actually seemed happy for us. As the interview went on Lizzie and Florence kept looking over to see if me and Scar were okay like the protective people they are and Scarlett and me kept stealing glances at each other constantly. I was really glad we got it out there so we don't have to treat our love like a dirty secret anymore. I can finally not have to carry around the burden of not being able to kiss my girlfriend in public in fear of someone seeing.

Time skip to after the interview:

We just finished the talk show and now me and Scarlett are walking back to her dressing room hand in hand, chatting away about anything and everything that comes to mind. As we enter the room she closes the door and turns to look at me. She holds my gaze as she comes forward and grabs my hips.

Scarlett - "I'm so happy we did that because now, I can do this.'

With that she pulled me in close and smashed our lips together in a passionate kiss. My arms were draped over her shoulders and her hand snaked around my waist protectively. Our bodies were flush against each other as our lips were still joined. Once oxygen became a problem we broke apart.

Y/n - "If coming out means we do that more often, we should totally com out more."

She giggled at my antics and pulled me in again. This woman is my one and only.

#scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson fanfic #wlw #wlw fanfic #lesbian #lesbian pride #sapphic #wlw pride

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lost-in-beacon-hills · 1 year

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I haven't really seen anyone point this out yet and I can't stop thinking about it so I'm writing it out.

When the Loser gang leaves Derry after all is said and done the first time they all forget. It's assumed that it's directly Pennywises fault. They all become somewhat happy successful people. And yet every single one of them have something that makes their happy life a living hell. It's basically a deal with the devil. Every loser has to deal with something.

Bev marries a man only to realize he's the exact copy of her father. He beats her and forces her to have sex with him. And yet she's a successful fashion designer.

Eddie marries Myra who is exactly like his mother. She's anxious and worried all the time constantly looking out for Eddie. She won't stop assuming the worst. Eddie calms her down and makes her anxiety his responsibility. And yet he works a job that is perfect for him: risk analyst.

Ben loses all the weight that caused him so much torment. He even keeps it off. No longer the fat kid. But he realizes it never ment anything because what he wanted was Bev. And yet he becomes an architect.

Stan marries an amazing woman that supports and loves him. Against the wishes of both their families and they still flourish. He gets a job that pays six figures. But they are never able to make a larger family. They try for years and yet no children. They go to doctors who tell them both of them are perfectly fine and able to have children. Yet Stanley knows on a level that isn't possible that it is because of him.

Richie becomes a comedian. Always down for a good joke with people that always laugh. He finally had people that held onto everything he said. No one ignored him or thought his jokes were bad. He literally make it his job. But in the process he was always a little aware of what he lost. His discontent came with having no actual friends. He was never able to place the feeling but him forgetting was his own hell. He didn't need anything other than isolation to be tormented.

Bill becomes the author he always was destined to be. He makes books that delves into the supernatural. Perhaps he always had some gut feeling just out of reach that everything was real. He suppresses his stutter and finds a girl that looks like a Bev. He gained all these things while still knowing he was missing something. Georgie was always and forever in the back of his mind.

Mike was an exception. He didn't leave. He was the one who had to give up everything in order to ring the metaphorical bell. He is just a librarian. He doesn't have everything the others did because he didn't leave. In the book it's insinuated he was half aware. Not quite remembering but eventually woken by the memory of Pennywise and the Turtle. He suffered majority of that time knowing that they were gone.

Leaving Derry gave them everything they every thought they wanted while keeping whatever it actually was they desired away.

(take everything I've said with a grain of salt because I've only watched both movie versions and haven't finished the book yet. It's just a thought. All three versions make it clear they all are unhappy.)

#it chap 1 #it chapter 2 #it #stephen kings it #stephen king #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #stanley uris #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #it things #it 1990 #it 1986 #the losers club #losers club

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pikapeppa · 4 months

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Year-End Writer's Round-Up: 2023

It’s that time of year, writer friends — time to take stock of what we’ve been up to this year! Tagging to literally ANY AND ALL WRITERS who would like to participate, but I’ll throw down some tags from the top of my head: @contrivedchaos @jadefyre @kittynomsdeplume @iamcayc @hollyand-writes @elveny @johaerys-writes @crackinglamb @mogwaei @alyssalenko @about2dance @cthu-boo @chloefraazers @fogsblue @lordofthenerds97, join in if you fancy!! If you're not a smut writer, feel free to leave out those stats, and feel free to add any accomplishments and "metrics" that are significant to you! 🥰

(Blank template at the bottom for convenience!)

Words written (published or not, WIPs totally count too!!): 999 496 — ARGH IT WAS SO CLOSE TO A COOL MILLION. I did this calculation on the evening of Dec 31 and I was like DAMMIT I NEED TO WRITE A DRABBLE LMAO. 😂🙈 Honestly, I’m surprised the word count was so high this year — I could have sworn my word count had dropped because I wrote very little for a few weeks after BG3 first came out LMAO!

Smut scenes: 42 — I've done better LOL. I’ll blame the slow-burn BG3 ships I’m working on currently. 😂

New things I tried:

I started dabbling in M/M smut this year, in the context of my beloved Horizon F/M/M polycules (Aloy/Drakka with either Kotallo or Nil). Usually when I write F/M/M threesomes, the focus is on the men pleasing the lucky lady of the group, but I headcanon Drakka in particular as being very unapologetically bi, so it’s only fair and right that he get some sweet M/M action. I’m looking forward to putting this M/M practice use on Halsin/Tav/Astarion when my BG3 writing finally gets to that point!

This was also the first time that I wrote an AU where I gleefully yeeted the canon deaths LMAO. I’m usually a stickler for adhering to significant plot points including character deaths, but the dastardly and darling @iamcayc nudged me into writing Here Come the Dreams, where Varl and Fashav both get to live, and it was a total delight to keep those darling men alive and happy.

I wrote a smut scene in first-person POV for the first time, using the adorable voice of Karlach from BG3. This was a particularly interesting challenge because I feel that the first-person voice calls for a more urgent in-the-moment kind of narration, which means that I had to alter my usual way of writing smut in terms of phrasing/wording and pacing, so it was a fun challenge!

With Astarion/Tav/Halsin, this is my first time writing an OC who falls in love simultaneously with two people, and it’s been… interesting trying to negotiate the polycule coming together. Of course I had to get enamoured with (arguably) the two most emotionally complicated male LIs in BG3 and make my own life difficult, LMAO. I’ve been struggling a little with bringing the relationships together and it’s been slowing my writing down over the past month or two, but I’m trucking on because I love both Halsin and Astarion and I really do believe in the dynamics of the OT3. SILVANUS GUIDE MY HAND AS I FIGURE THIS SHIT OUT.

Fic I spent the most time on:

Even The Hardiest Desert Blooms! I really sank my focus into my beloved Desert boy this year and wrapped up his fic, which is always a bittersweet feeling when you adore the pairing. 😭

Fic I spent the least time on:

Burning Blue (Karlach/Dammon). I was bitten by a sudden bug of adoration for them, and that piece basically came together in a day and a half because I was on fire to get it out. I LOVE THIS PAIRING SO MUCH. 😭🔥

Favourite thing I wrote:

Even The Hardiest Desert Blooms has always been my self-indulgent pleasure because I just love Drakka to the moon and back, so focusing a lot of this year on his fic was a treat. But Here Come the Dreams was also an enormously fun project because I just went ham and hyperfocused on it for a month and a half. I really wanted to see if I could finish it in a month just for shits and giggles, but AS ALWAYS it ended up being longer than anticipated so I didn’t meet that goal, but it was still a total ball to come up with a fun little project and finish it as quickly as possible.

Favourite thing I read:

Hands-down, without a doubt, What’s A Sex Tape Between Friends? by @auntie-coagulant. I don’t read much fanfic, and when I do, it's only for the ships that I don't write. So when I saw this fic recommended in the Kotallo server and I was like “Travis/Lis?? You have my attention.” My eyes were popping and I was HOWLING by the first chapter, and I’ve been dead in the water for this fic ever since and procrastinating on finishing the fic because MY EMOTIONS ARE NOT READY FOR THE HEARTBREAK.

Writing goals for next year:

Finish Coming In Like A Western Wind. I’ve been sleeping on this fic since September because Astarion and Halsin turned my head and I feel really bad about it… but I do mean to finish it!

Just keep on keeping on with my BG3 fics for Astarion and Halsin! I’ve been DYING to write smut for Halsin for months, and I have images living rent-free in my head of Astarion enjoying some very tender sensate focus, so let’s hope I get around to writing these scenes before I explode.

**************

Template time!

Words written (published or not, WIPs totally count too!)

Smut scenes written (if applicable)

New things I tried

Fic I spent the most time on

Fic I spent the least time on

Favourite thing I wrote

Favourite thing I read

Writing goals for next year

Enjoy, friends!!! And cheers to another fulfilling year of writing! 🥰🥂

-- love from your friendly neighbourhood Pika! xoxo

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