#lol idk if this answers your question well enough but that’s what I have to say 😂
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Death echoes
So a while ago, i found this dp x dc post that had a really interesting lore headcanon for Danny’s ghostly wail. Idk if I’ll be able to find it again, I’ll link it here if I do, but essentially it posited that every ghost has something called a “death echo”, which is an ability unique to them based heavily on their deaths. These echoes are the most powerful move in a ghost’s moveset, but they’re also extremely volatile and draining, typically damaging the ghost in some way when used, with Danny’s being his Wail because he died screaming. The original post then went on to some really cool halfa!Jason ideas based on these death echoes, but for this lil snippet with an extremely long intro I’d like to focus on Danny a bit more.
Edit: Apparently I may have extrapolated a lot of the actual lore behind these death echos myself? The inspiration post was a lot longer in my memories. Or I might've mushed multiple posts into one mental box and then forgot lol. So a lot of the actual detail from this point on is seemingly mostly original material? I think? Idk man, sometimes my brain spits out information without giving me any clues as to where it got that information. Anyway, this post got kinda long and since I'm... decently sure this is where I shifted from summarizing @ailithnight's post to writing all my own thoughts I figured here would be a good place to throw the cut lol.
So! with all of the context-for-the-context out of the way, let’s move on to the actual context for what I’m writing cause I can’t be bothered with writing an intro XD
Essentially, this is an au where Danny is an established member of the Justice League, or maybe one of the teen hero teams? I’m a slut for eternal teenager Danny, but maybe he’s enough of a powerhouse to be on the main team despite him both looking and acting like the dumbass fourteen year old he died as. Either way, he’s on a League/League-sanctioned mission and things go bad. Like, everyone-almost-dies bad. And so as a final desperation attack, Danny uses his Wail, a power he’s never told anyone on the league he even has. And it works, and they make it out, but after the fact everyone has. Questions. And because in this au death echoes are deeply personal, Danny dodges those questions, but the league coughbatmancough isn’t satisfied with that. So they push for answers. Answers Danny’s not willing to give, because. In my mind death echoes aren’t just based on how a person died, but also their experience of that death. What their last thoughts were. When Danny died the only thing that he could process beyond just an all-encompassing painpainpainpainpain was the sound of someone screaming. His screaming. And so his death echo is the sound of a fourteen year old child screaming in deathly pain and terror weaponized, which definitely gave the league Even More Questions than they would’ve had already. Which finally brings us to the actual snippet, which is a conversation between John Constantine, who was brought in for his experience with the supernatural once it became clear Danny wasn’t going to talk, and Danny himself.
~~~~~~~
“So, kid. Batsy tells me you’ve been hiding some of your abilities, wanna tell me what's up with that? Call it an occultist's intuition, but somethin’ tells me you’re not just being stubborn for the hell of it.”
“It’s... complicated. And not anyone’s business, either!”
“Kid...”
“Why does it even matter?! It’s not something I want to or am even able to do on a regular basis! I saved the mission, can’t they just accept that and move on???”
Sighing, Constantine reached up to start massaging his brow. “Kid, you and I both know that ain’t gonna be enough. Now I know that some things are better left alone, but the rest of these idiots? They can’t accept that, Batsy especially. That man’s never left bloody well enough alone in his life”
He looked up just in time to see the otherworldly teen shrink into himself, looking every bit the child he was. “I know but... why? Why do they need to keep asking questions? And why do they only ask the ones that hurt to answer?”
A sharp glance. “The fuck kinda questions are they asking? Batman was speaking in more grunt than word, so I didn’t really catch all the details of what this power you’re supposedly hiding even is.”
Phantom shrinks even more into himself at that, and responds in a voice so small it’s more sigh than speech. “I... I can scream. And it breaks things and pushes people back. But it, it sounds. Bad. And it brings up bad memories and I don’t like to do it or listentoitoreventhinkaboutitandtheywon’tletmeforgetand-”
“Breathe kid. I know you don’t need to but just take a deep breath with me. Don’t you go getting lost in your own head on me now., Constantine reassured the kid automatically, the sheer hopelessness prompting action long before the words themselves could be understood. Then the rest of him caught up, and he had to pause. Looked up at the kid, saw just how distressed he was. A picture was starting to form in the back of his head, and Constantine didn’t like what he saw one bit. A last-resort power that the normally open Phantom was strangely reticent about. A scream so horrible sounding the rest of the league would not to stop asking questions about it. Terrible memories to match said scream. And one truly miserable child who couldn’t bear to even think about any of it.
“Phantom... is that your Echo? Screaming?”
A miserable nod is his only response, the tears that had been welling up in the kid’s eyes finally starting to fall. Cursing softly to himself, Constantine stood to leave, bracing himself for the Bat’s inevitable questioning. “Well then you just take all the time you need love, and leave the rest to me. I’ll make sure the rest of those idiots know not to ask you about this ever again.” And with that Constantine turned and strode towards the door, leaving the quietly sobbing child to collect himself in privacy.
~~~~~
I had a whole-ass lore dump conversation between Constantine and Batman planned here, explaining how death echoes are deeply personal, and asking about one is a taboo on par with, potentially even worse than, asking a ghost about their death outright. Because they are formed from an amalgamation of how a ghost died, their last thoughts, and their final emotions, in some ways asking a ghost about their Echo is like asking them to describe their death in painstaking detail. But uhhh... inspiration bug left. So yea. Side note, I’d like to apologize if my depiction of Constantine’s accent was Bad, I’m but a lowly USAmerican whose only exposure to British accents is through tv ^-^’
#did some minor edits to fix typos and make things flow better when i went back in to add the hyperlink#that being said dont expect too much i wrote this in a bit of an inspiration frenzy lol#and barely edited it after the fact#the snek rambles#the snek writes#snippit#dp x dc#danny phantom#john constantine#idk wtf else to tag this#dc x dp#dpxdc#dcxdp#crossover
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Hi! Really love your stories they always scratch my brain (*≧∀≦*)❤️, so I got an idea and wanted to ask what you think about it
I got this question with Sunday on the minigame/event (idk what to call it lol)
"Just as you're about to pull a dusty hard-leatherback book, you hear a gentle whisper within earshot, "Averoy Rosewood's works are notorious for their obscurity," the Oak Family Head Sunday faintly smiles at you. "Perhaps you need more elaboration."
(I couldn't put the image since anon asks don't allow me to put images😮💨, but it's from a Board Encounter in Cosmodyssey)
and when I read it my brain immediately went WHAT IF SUNDAY FILLS THE READER WITH A VIBRATOR ON THE LIBRARY, and him just watching in amusement as he talks about books and asking her questions about them while he plays with the levels of vibrations with a control on his hands and she just struggles to make sentences, so he goes and asks "What's wrong? Are you not feeling well?" To tease her and remind that she's in a public space and can't make much noise unless she wants everyone to know about what they're doing.
Hmm... I wrote this about Sunday, but I feel like maybe it could be about Jing Yuan or Aventurine 🤔, anyways sorry if it sounds weird my brain sometimes goes into unga bonga mode when I think about these men.
Sincerely,
An unhinged anon.
Thank you for telling me. I experienced this event and read the content of Sunday helping us in the library!! Wrote a little bit, I hope you like it 💗🫶
cw: yandere, non-con, abuse of power, abuse of credit, vibrator, harassment
How about you being the librarian at The Family Library? A nerdy librarian. The Family claims that this is a library open to everyone to read and borrow, covering a variety of books and hologram collections.
Sunday, the leader of the Oak Family noticed you. He can accurately talk to you about your interests, hobbies and ideals, and encourage you…but one thing is that you are not religious enough in your belief in harmony. You are too withdrawn…and cannot integrate into The Family. Sing hymns, participate in activities, and protect The Family, others can do it, but what can you do? He cannot allow you to continue in this position under these circumstances. You panicked, grabbing his sleeves and pleading with him through tears. "W-what, I really believe Lord Xipe…I need this job badly! Please Mr. Sunday…"
He offered a plan. He used his gloves to push a delicate small box in front of you. You must put two vibrators in your underwear while on duty to test your professional abilities. If you can tolerate sinful sexual pleasure, you qualify for this position.
"But… Mr. Sunday, can I-can I take a break?"
"Of course. I'm not here to torture you. This is for your and everyone's happiness and harmony, I hope you understand." His words ignited the hope in your heart. "You have 2 hours a day to take them down. Allocate your own time. After get off work, you head to my office and I will check on your progress. You must do this every working day."
"Check?" Your heart sank into the starry sky and was crushed. "Okay. Mr. Sunday..."
These two vibrators… are pearl white and have an angel wings pattern on them. It's silent, but it delivers a surge of pleasure to your private parts, sometimes fast and sometimes slow down. It's not much better when it's slow - it's a long, quiet torture that gives you no relief. You kept your legs still and sorted your books and documents, your underwear getting wet. Every half minute, you check like a hawk to see if you have wet your clothes, fearing that it has become a joke in the eyes of others…
He occasionally wanders into the library to check on your work and ask you to recommend books in a certain category or answer questions about the collection.
"What's wrong? Are you feeling uncomfortable?" Sunday approached you with caring eyes and ruthlessly pushed the controller frequency to the highest level. You lowered your head, holding back tears, your legs trembling. "I-I'm fine. Mr. Sunday. Thank you for your concern."
This kind-hearted gentleman and leader offers to take you to another secluded corner of the library to rest. On the road, Sunday dials down the vibration frequency and doesn't crank it up until you get to the corner. The intense ecstasy immediately hits you to the extreme and stimulates your nerves. You endured your moans, trembling in Sunday's arms as you reached orgasm. His hands caressed your hair like a lovable pet. He commented that your ability to endure needs to be improved.
After you get off work, Sunday asks you to take off all your clothes in the office and fold them on the table. He uses white gloves to inspect and rub your private parts, circling them with his thumb. In the watery light, those fingers slowly inserted between your legs and twitched. He clicked his tongue in disappointment when he realized that his fingers were already wet enough to slide into the inner walls before being inserted. "Not religious enough, are you? What are you thinking about? You're letting pleasure take over your body."
"...I'm sorry!! Mr. Sunday, Please give me a chance…" you begged with a sob, then cummed hard at his disappointed sigh.
#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#sunday x reader#yandere honkai star rail#honkai star rail x you#yandere hsr#yandere hsr x reader#honkai x reader
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a pencil, paper and an uncontrollable crush
♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧
opla!luffy x reader
requested: yes (I mixed 2 reqs so idk if that counts but reqs are still open for anyone)
genre: oneshot but in headcanon form? gn! reader, artist! reader
warnings: none, just some fluff!
a/n: I won't be writing as often becusde I'm writing my final rn, also this is short because i have a hard time imagining luffy being romantic so... enjoy!
♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧
now, it doesn't matter how obviously and hopelessly in love you are with Luffy, he's just not going to see it.
he doesn't see you make starry eyes at him, because his eyes are just as starry on a regular basis. when he catches you admiring him, he just assumes that you zoned out. (because he does that alot too)
so when he finds an incredibly detailed sketch of himself laying around on the ship, he excitedly goes from crew member to crew member, asking who drew it.
when he gets to you, notebook and pencil in hand drawing yet another portrait of him, you hang your head in mortification as he marvels at your work.
so imagine his suprise when he snatches that notebook our of your hands with a quickness to see what else you've steched in there, only to find himself on every. single. page.
I swear that his excited screaming is enough to alert other ships at sea of your exact location, but he can't help it, every drawing you've done deserves a reaction that fits how well you did it.
after he finds out about your habit, he starts striking poses for you and holding them right until your last pencil stroke on paper (or until he gets bored/hungry lol)
one night, you get a frantic knock on your door followed by Luffy's muffled voice yelling "are you still awake? I wanna show you something." so you open the door and he shoves a crumpled piece of paper right in your face.
you back up just a little bit and adjust your eyes, and you see a drawing of... some sort of animal? oh, wait nevermind, it's of you.
it's not the most artistically or anatomically sound drawing you've laid your eyes on, but it's... surprisingly detailed. he's drawn on pretty much every single visible scar, mole, freckle and mark, even some that you didn't know you had.
when you question how he managed to be so accurate, he tilts his head, pursing his lips and farrowing his brows in thought before answering. "Well, it wasn't on purpose, but I always look at you when you're around me. you catch my attention, kinda like food does!"
pause.
did Monkey D. Luffy, the strawhat captain, mister gum gum himself, just compare you to food...? moment of silence, because this is so much bigger than all of us.
after hearing this revelation, you cave and plant a quick kiss on his cheek as a thank you (and as a means to let him know of your more than platonic feelings for him), slamming the door in his face before he even has the chance to react.
p.s. Luffy doesn't have any idea why you kissed his cheek, but he knows that it made him feel good, and he wants to get one from you again.
#one piece#one piece live action#one piece x reader#opla#masterlist#one piece headcanons#opla x reader#luffy x reader#luffy live action#monkey d. luffy#one piece luffy#luffy#luffy x y/n#luffy x you#one piece smut#straw hat luffy
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SVSSS fanfic premise that I think about sometimes, without every gaining an actual plot to it-
SQQ(SY), post canon, gets sad that YQY doesn’t know that SJ is dead. He really really wants to tell him, even if it’s against the rules, and so asks the system if he can tell two people the truth. Only two! (Two because there is no way that he would be telling YQY his secrets and not LBH)
He is then told by the system that he could bring SJ’s soul back, if he wanted. Like… what? Why didn’t you tell him sooner? Like years sooner?!
System: ….you didn’t ask.
So he gets permission to tell LBH and YQY. He has a nice emotional moment with LBH, like you do, and then goes to tell the sect leader. I wrote part of that here, but that’s all I’m probably going to write lol
I don’t have much else to this, except the part that makes me laugh the most- to get SJ’s soul back, SQQ has to do a complicated ritual with the system or something IDK. It’s completely doable, but it’s incredibly difficult, and SQH has to be apart of it. The system never wanted SQH to be apart of it- this was always supposed to be a SQQ thing, but SQQ wanted his bro’s help here!
Because SQH is there, however. The ritual is to bring back the OG goods, and SQQ is now not the only one that fits that bill. When the lights die down, who’s standing there except both SJ and the OG!Shang Qinghua?!
(YQY wasn’t told that SQH was also a transmigrater, and is just standing there, really confused and really betrayed and really wanting to go run over to SJ)
But OGSQH doesn’t have a life in this world, technically, so he’s technically from PIDW. He’s from after his death, and is incredibly jumpy in a way that a feral rodent is. Which is different that a feral cat! Because that’s what SJ is being right now, having both his memories up until his death in SVSSS as well as his death in PIDW.
YQY is the only one that can get even a little close with getting stabbed, but it’s still not enough. LBH had to leave the room immediately. SQQ and SQH are yelling at the system while OGSQH is trying to get out of the locked room with any means necessary.
I don’t have anything further than this. What do they tell everyone else? Does Mobei Jun get two rodent peak lords for the price of one, after a nice arc of OGSQH calming down about the whole ‘your alternative self killed me after I might have sorta kinda betrayed him!’ Thing? Does YQY ever tell SJ about their past, or will SQQ blurt it out to just get it over with? (Oh, maybe SJ admits that he swallows YQY’s sword shards to kill himself and that’s what causes YQY to break down and tell him. Or maybe that just causes YQY to avoid him out of grief for days, and ultimately makes SJ feel like he’s been abandoned?)
Mall these questions and more will never be answered! Sorry lol
#svsss#shen yuan#shen qingqiu#shang qinghua#shen jiu#yue qingyuan#luo binghe#og shang qinghua#mobei jun
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Okay, so I read "my body wants you bare" and OMG I liked it more than I'd like to admit, i mean, it's actually rented a triplex in my head and i loved it to much, your writing is so smooth and sweet <3333
Anyway, I would like to ask for a "continuation" (it doesn't necessarily have to be one, i just don't know exactly how to explain 😔), perhaps from Arlecchino this time? Like she's excited about the idea of getting her wife pregnant this time ( and maybe doing it...?)
Ps:: don't feel obligated to write about pregnancy if you don't want to, after all, I know that most authors don't feel comfortable writing about a pregnat reader, so just do what you want to, i have i'm sure it will be incredible
Reader having Arlecchino's child
first of all, thank you so much!!🙏 ngl i enjoyed writing that one more than i would like to admit lol. guess I also have this habit of making everything sweet when it comes to my writing 😭 idk i just feel like everything should be sweet and cute and lovely. love me some tooth rotting fluff with murderous white woman 🥰
i also understand why ppl might be uncomfortable with it, can't say i completely am, but I'm chill about it in some particular cases so i decided to answer 😇
˚⁺‧ 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩. 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘈𝘍𝘈𝘉!!!
So as was mentioned in the fic, you and Arlecchino are unable to have children of your own, so unless some sort of science or magic is involved, there's no way to do so, and I suppose this is what you were implying, anon.
i also had to do some googling since i wasn't sure if whatever i was thinking about was my fever dream or if it's actually real. I'm still not sure if getting pregnant from another woman is possible in the real world, but let's pretend that it is in teyvat!!!!!!
I still kinda feel like if Arlecchino could've agreed to have a child, she'd just adopt one from her orphanage. kinda see it as "there are so many children under my care that had lost their parents, what would they think if they knew that some child gets to have proper parenting, and from their caretaker!!". Maybe she's afraid playing favorites, but then again, there are Lyney, Lynette and Freminet.
So who knows, maybe the idea of having one of your own had grown onto her over the time, and in the end she agreed to your idea.
well, choose where you want to do the deed: akademiya, institute, or try to find a chill segment of your wife's coworker to help you.
Whichever one that is, there's no question who's getting pregnant, since Arlecchino has important job as a country's official, so naturally there's no time for carrying a child.
So, everything was settled. Arlecchino's stem cell was grown into a sperm that was later used to get you pregnant via IVF. It felt.. strange, as in, it wasn't the usual way people would become pregnant, but it wasn't a bad feeling. And unlike some poor cases where children were results of some sort of mistake or whatnot, your case was planned and serious. You tried so hard to follow doctors' recommendations, and Arlecchino was always there to support you.
When you felt weird, she was buying you all the weird foods you craved for (in adequate amounts and combinations. ain't no way she'd allow you to drink milk after eating fish just cause you felt funky like that). She'd reassure you when you felt down or nervous, and keep you safe from any harm. After what you both went through to get this child, Arlecchino won't let a single bad thing happen to any of you!!! This also includes taking care of your health.
Can't say I imagine Arlecchino as a person who would play with your belly. Maaaybe if you were silly enough and called for her she'd do something. But she's not talking to your belly no. Don't ask for her to read to the baby. She'll tell you it can't hear anything. But despite that you still feel how gently she rubs and caresses you as you two lie down. So what if she's not the one carrying the child? She's still a woman, and one with children (even if they aren't hers..), she understands competely what you're doing through, so of course she loves and appreciates you.
Whether you want to continue having intimacy or not is up to you. And while Arlecchino definitely isn't going to disturb you, or the child when it grows big enough, you still had your fingers in tact, and Arlecchino's job is full of stress all the time...🤭
The time was close, you noticed newly arrived nurses and accoucheurs in your mansion. Arlecchino didn't know when she'd have to leave you for a mission, she hoped she wouldn't, but just in case she invited them ahead of the time you supposedly would give birth to your child. They were also monitoring your health, so that was a plus.
But soon, the inevitable day arrived. You were scared, and everything hurt so badly, and there were so many people, and Arlecchino wasnt there. Where is your wife when you need her so badly?! The spasms were growing more and more painful, and were lasting for ao long that you were almost passing out.
You were about to give birth. At the last moment, Arlecchino rushed towards you, finally arrived from her mission. She ran to you as soon as possible, taking your hand in hers as she calmed your screams. She cast a threatening glance at the doctors, silently telling them that if they do something, anything that you might find disturbing, they won't be there tomorrow. The last thing Arlecchino would want you to suffer is accoucheur violence, be it a bad word from them or forcing you to agree to some procedure.
After so many hours, you finally gave birth to your and Arlecchino's child. Of course, since you and her are both the same sex, your child could only be the same. You still weren't sure how you would name your daughter, but this could be discussed a little later. During your pregnancy, you still couldn't decide whether you'd give her a snezhnayan or a fontainian name, but you had some good ones in mind that both you and Arlecchino liked.
She. She'll take maternal leave. No way she'd leave you on your own when you're recovering. Expect to wake in a cold bed only to realize that you don't hear your daughter screaming, since your wife is currently busy with her, wanting you to get more sleep to recover sooner.
Overall, I think Arlecchino, despite being strict and demanding, is a pretty good parent who takes care of her family. A very solid option to choose for your child ♡
also ngl I'm thinking lewd thoughts about milf reader with arlecchino, how y'all feeling about this?--
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin fanfic#arlecchino#genshin arlecchino#arlecchino x reader#arlecchino smut#(does this count?)#female reader
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ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ, ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ
Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader
Type: Fic
Word Count: 1.7k
Synopsis: Sometimes Miles just wants to sway with you in the middle of his bedroom while R&B music plays in the background.
Warnings: Cursing, 15+ Miles here, keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!
A/N: My first (and possibly only) attempt at 42!Miles Morales. Idk, thought it would be something cute…might make a 1610!Miles Morales counterpart lol.
Song Suggestions: “Close” by Ella Mai, “Lotus Flower Bomb” by Wale ft. Miguel, “Love Don’t Change” by Jeremih
Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed
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“Do you think this fits okay?”
His lights are set to the lavender color setting on his LED lights that line the top ceiling corners of his room, though the lamp on his desk also provides warm white light to contrast against it. Miles looks up from his phone conversation with his uncle to glance at your figure standing in front of the mirror attached to the back of his door as your gaze analyzes the new pair of leggings adorning your legs.
“They look perfect, bella.” Miles responds, the amused lilt in his voice nearly blowing over your head when you hear him speak. Though, to Miles, anything you wear is perfect in his eyes. Your lips jut out in a pout as you continue to examine your bottom half dressed in the black leggings, debating on if you’d gotten the right size to accentuate your curves the way you want them to.
The leggings were just one of many items that laid in various shopping bags that littered Miles’ floor, currently. From LuLuLemon to Victoria’s Secret to Fashion Nova, Miles can certainly say that he’s made up for his impromptu disappearance before your date night the night prior.
He didn’t mean for last night to happen, truly. He knew you really wanted to see that movie. It was the last night it was playing in theaters, too, and you were so excited when you managed to find tickets to the last showing, and proposed the date idea to him. Miles admits that he was interested in the proposition, not just because you had proposed it, but because the mere mention of it got you so worked up that he truly believed it to be worth it.
So, to make up for not only bailing on the date, but also going ghost for much the prior night as well, he picked you up for an impromptu day at the mall. It wasn’t an easy feat, Miles admits, convincing you to allow him to make it up to you in this way. He felt guilty for inadvertently crushing your hopes, and you’d felt even more guilty about taking the new date offer that required him to spend his money.
“I’m tryna make it up to you.” He’d said
“Miles, I said it was fine-” you’d said.
“-but it’s not, though.” He’d interjected.
“You had…stuff to do,” you’d whispered to him, “I can’t expect you to drop everything at my beck and call, and I know what I signed up for when we started dating.”
If someone told Miles that four months ago he’d start dating the pretty girl who always slept through their shared mathematics class, he’d surely look at you as if you’d just grown a second head. He still doesn’t know what attracted him to you in the first place - how pretty you looked asleep at your desk, or the fact that even though you’d be knocked out the second you took your seat, if the teacher happened to call on you for a question, you managed to answer it correctly every time.
You’d quickly became his first and, as it stands, only friend at Visions Academy. Soon enough, you’d also became aware of his double persona, though if Miles had it his way, he would have kept you in the dark for as long as possible. It wasn’t easy, juggling the duality of the life he lived. The less people close to him, the easier the job was. Well, unless the person was you.
You were like a piece of gum stuck under a desk - an ever looming presence, never disappearing; but like the candy before being discarded, you were also sweet, refreshing, comforting. Miles wanted to make this work for the both of you. He’d grown too fond of you to let you slip out of his life like sand from the beach.
“So that mean you just accept whatever you get?” Miles asks, eyebrows raised again. “Nah, we don’t do that around here.”
Unfortunately, there was no fighting against Miles when he had his mind made up.
So you entertained his proposition, though not without a fight. You made sure that the boy bought some things for himself as well, and even managed to sneak in a few items for his mother (which, in all honesty, he didn’t need much convincing for - it was his mother, after all). So, granted, not all of the bags on the floor were yours, so it made you feel a bit better about Miles splurging on you as an apology.
He watches as you shift through a tiny black and pink bag with the V.S. initials printed in cursive on the side, fishing out a bottle of soft purple body mist that Miles would recognize anywhere. He’d recognize it because it was his favorite scent that you frequently bought from the clothing chain. He could never tire of the lavender and jasmine that calmed his mind and relaxed his body whenever you were around, or put him to sleep whenever the two of you cuddled together.
The familiar spritz spritz sound echoes throughout his room, fading into the old school R&B that currently plays in the living room area where his mom is having company over. The mist settles into the cloth of your sweatshirt - his sweatshirt, actually - and into your skin, before he watches your feet carry you closer to him.
“Don’t tell me you sprayed that just to come and hug me?” He says, though his body straightens at the edge of the bed, phone becoming a distant memory as he tucks it into his hoodie pocket.
You shrug, a playful smile spreads to your lips as you step between his legs, hands coming to cup his cheeks, “shut up, you know you like it.”
He didn’t have to admit that he loved it - a lazy hand coming to rest at the back of your knee was enough proof of it.
“Why you tryna be like me,” the brown skin boy hums, sucking his teeth and deflecting the conversation from the truthful statement, “always stealin’ my clothes ‘nd shit.”
“Same reason why half of my scrunchie jar is gone,” you tease back, “I gave you one, Miles, and now I’m missing, like, ten of ‘em.”
“I’on know what you talkin’ ‘bout.”
“Of course you don’t.”
At some point, the same hand that rested behind your knee crept up to your waist as his head pressed into your stomach, the smell of your perfume drawing him closer. It lulled him into a state of security; however, it was swiftly ruined when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He’s sure that it’s Aaron.
He takes the phone out and it opens up to his text messages almost immediately when his face comes into view. The ominous intent behind the words ‘hold on’ in blue bubbles makes his stomach tighten.
You feel it, too. The shift in his demeanor can be felt when you stand this close to him. “Was it Aaron?”
His phone becomes discarded on the bed while his other arm raises up, and both wrap around your frame while he buries his head into your stomach inhaling the perfume etched into the fabric there. “Yeah.”
One hand goes to rub soothing circles on his clothed back, the other caresses the nape of his neck, holding him close, for the reality of it all was that he could have to leave at any moment.
The slightly muffled music from the living room shifts to another song and it sparks a lightbulb in your head.
Your hands go to gently pry Miles’ hands from your body. He raises his head in question, before being tugged to his feet by you as well. You reposition his arms around your waist, and yours find their place around his neck, and after a few seconds, it clicks for him.
“You’re so corny.” He voices, muffled by the position his face takes in the crevice of your neck, nose tickled by the goddess braids that rested against your shoulders.
“Shut up,” you lightly scold, “just sway with me, idiot.”
The richness of the singer’s voice gives Miles’ body more than enough incentive to lean from side to side in a slow motion, taking you in his arms with him as he does so. You fully expect for him to pull away or grumble at the proposition, yet, you’re not completely surprised when he simply gives in to your direction. Perhaps he desires the same closeness you do in this moment, you think.
Miles feels himself smiling when the touch of your hand graces his cheek, thumb swiping comforting strokes along his skin. He hums at the touch, his grip tightening in the slightest around your waist. Is he too young to wish for this all the time?
His phone buzzes in his pocket again, his brown hand fishes for the device and glances down at the text message once more. The pit in his stomach fades away when he reads the words ‘no need. good 4 2nite’ from his uncle in blue. Miles lets out a short breath, pockets his phone, and sinks back into your touch.
He’s thankful that there seems to be no need for the Prowler on the streets tonight. Perhaps he can rest in peace.
Miles’ taken from his thoughts when he feels your lips graze across his cheek. “Everything good?”
He feels a smile spread across his lips. “Yeah, we good,” he hums, returning the affection.
Neither of you even notice that another person has entered the room, until the sound of someone clearing their throat echoes throughout the walls. Miles looks up from your shoulder to see his mother standing in the doorway, a content yet melancholic look on her face.
“If you kids want something to eat, there’s leftovers from me and the girls, bien?”
The hand that was once on his cheek now hides your face from his mother’s prying, knowing eyes, and it emits a chuckle from the older woman.
“Bueno, mami, we’ll get some later.” Miles replies before Rio leaves, making sure to leave the door ajar just the slightest.
Though, neither of you are ready to part, even at the prospect of food. So Miles returns to the warmth of your neck, your hand returning to caress the side of his face as he molds himself back into you, and the two of you continue to sway to the music, content in your own little world.
If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!
#black reader#black tumblr#black spiderman#spiderman#spiderman into the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman beyond the spiderverse#spiderman itsv#spiderman atsv#spiderman btsv#spiderman miles morales#spiderman atsv x reader#spiderman x reader#miles morales spider man#miles morales spiderverse#miles morales x black!reader#miles morales x reader#miles morales fluff#miles morales fic#42!miles x reader#42!miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles morales x black!reader#earth 42 miles fluff
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Cherry Blossoms
🌸Student!Mingi🌸
TW: nothing, just a lot of crack imo, and mentions of murder sorta lol
Word count: 1.9k
Genre: university!au, stranger to lovers!au
A/N: Wellll, hi? hehe, idk either what this is other than a super random drabble that I had to write or else it would've haunted me for the rest of my life LOL (it also might be another excuse to not write my thesis *dies*) Apologies if the humor is not humoring, I usually don't write in this style (at least imo). I hope you enjoy, and let me know your thoughts about it! (divider)
Have you ever had a moment of clear confusion? So profound that no matter how hard you tried making sense of it…it just started making even less sense? That the longer you moved your mind around it, the stronger the headache became. Well, that’s how I felt staring up at the scarily tall guy looking down at me with the softest eyes, which were slightly shaking if I looked close enough. His plush and red lips pulled into the sheepiest grin I’ve ever seen and nose tall and straight, probably sculpted by some God the second he was born. I knew his face, I mean, it would’ve been hard not to when I’ve spent half a year staring back sometimes as I have caught him looking at me numerous times. This guy standing in front of me right now, placing his weight from one leg to another, hands behind himself, and cheeks very slowly flushing, was a predicament I would’ve never even thought I could’ve dreamed of.
“Come again?” I found my voice at last, eyebrows threatening to go past my hairline.
“Are you free right now?” The question sounded innocent enough, but I couldn’t put myself past the graveness of his voice. I would’ve never imagined it could go so low and hold so much rasp, but again, I have barely heard his voice before as he rarely conversed with people around himself.
“Depends why you want to know.” I answered, pushing my hands inside the pockets of my striped spring jacket. The weather was finally warm enough to allow us to wear our lighter fabrics without freezing to death at any given point of the day. The guy standing in front of me hesitated for a second, and then ran his fingers decorated with heavy rings through his silver-blonde hair. The change to it was new, and I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t taken aback by it when I saw it. But it fit him, in a very handsome way, If I must admit that.
“I was just wondering if you’d like to hang out with me…” Oh, well, that was another twist to the plot I had not been expecting. I chuckled, not because I found him funny, just because I knew my two best friends would be hollering on the sidelines hearing this guy’s words. Half a year spent staring at me from the shadows, avoiding eye contact and aggressively watching me when I wasn’t looking, now stood in front of me, looking just as nervous as I felt on the inside, asking me to hang out with him. What sort of alternate universe have I accidentally entered this morning?
“Okay, sure.” He didn’t need to know I actually had one more class. He had finally approached me, was talking to me, looking at me, and acknowledging my existence as one should normally do. That sounded like a good enough reason for me to skip my last class, I’m sure anyone would understand.
“Oh, that’s…” The flush on his cheeks became more prominent now, and he bit his plump bottom lip to stop his lips from spreading into a huge smile, “nice.”
I hummed and offered him a small smile, actually feeling excited about how things were turning out. Even five minutes ago if someone would’ve come up to me to tell me that he’d finally approach me and even ask to hang out, I would’ve laughed in their face.
“Oh, I’m Song Mingi, by the way.” He clumsily reached his hand out, staring at me expectantly. I was so used to his sharp gaze on me that I found myself holding his gaze with a wider smile now, grabbing his hand, and giving it a firm shake. Song Mingi didn’t have to know that I already knew more about him than I should’ve, considering the fact that we were strangers until now. Really, before you start calling me creepy and a stalker, social media exists these days. And let’s be honest, if a mildly attractive guy keeps staring at you every chance he gets, wouldn’t you also be even just a little bit curious about who he is? Call me a magician or simply skillful when it comes to finding people on social media, but it’s been over three months now that I have known his name, and, well, birthday. I might be one of those crazy astrology girls, huge emphasis on being sarcastic right now, astrology girls are awesome when they aren’t fighting demons and regretting every life choice upon one glance at one’s birth chart.
“Lovely finally knowing your name, Song Mingi,” I chuckled, releasing his hand, watching as his eyes widened a little bit, “Oh, you certainly can’t think I haven’t noticed you staring—”
“Oh, I’m sure you have!” Mingi cut me off, chuckling awkwardly, “I didn’t make it very subtle, to be fair.”
“Not at all.” I chuckled amused, flashbacks of his other three friends huddled around, as if we were in kindergarten or something, staring me down while I walked by with, of course, with Mingi in the middle, watching me with a blank face, fierce eyes boring into the back of my head, “I’m Y/N.”
“You have a beautiful name.” Well, perhaps that would’ve made me choke if I had been drinking something, but to my luck I wasn’t, and so I straightened my back, trying to fight off the shyness threatening to cage me in. So far, at least the very little I knew about Mingi by observing him back when he, miraculously, wasn’t paying attention to me, was that he was quiet. Withdrawn and a little even shy, perhaps, but mostly just content in his own world, unbothered by those around him. He rarely spoke, but when he did, I have noticed his friends fighting demons to not die from laughter. And if he turns out to be a funny guy, bingo, isn’t that what every girl wants?
“Thank you,” You have a beautiful face, but I can’t go saying that to him right away, right? “What do you have in mind? I mean, where do you want to hang out?”
And now let’s hope he’s not some dodgy psychopath who hates my loud laugh and made an elaborate plan to slaughter me the second he gets me alone.
“Would you like to go to a coffee shop or would you prefer walking?” Mingi proposed with a gentle smile, his rather sharp features looking dangerously soft and warm as another blush threatened to flush over his cheeks. If he kept on blushing, I might just die from cuteness aggression, “The weather is really nice today…”
It is, but not nicer than you, Song Mingi, “It is, let’s go for a walk, maybe?”
“A walk it is, then.” Mingi sealed the deal with a firm nod of his head, and I couldn’t help but giggle, trying to remind myself that this was really happening and I wasn’t in some alternate universe, or even in dreamland. Wouldn’t be too surprising if this interaction was just a fraction of my imagination; my mind is a scary place when it becomes delusional.
“Would you like to go to the park up on the hill?” That was the nicest park in our city, and well, at this time of hour it was littered with just the perfect amount of people to not become bothersome, but neither scarce. Not that I have trust issues—I do—but this is a complete stranger I just accepted to hang out with, and quite shockingly, I do not wish to become the next true crime topic of some youtuber.
“It’s a lovely spot, but…” Mingi suddenly looked slightly embarrassed as he ruffled his silver-blonde hair, rings glinting deliciously under the sunlight, “it’s a bit far from our university and…I don’t have a car.”
I quickly waved the ridiculous words away as I watched Mingi become more embarrassed, “Don’t worry about it, I have one. We can still go.”
“But…I don’t want you to use fuel just for us to—” I reached out as I grabbed his arm, the sudden physical contact stunning Mingi into silence. Oh, did he also feel the charged spark and instant butterflies taking off in my stomach? Or was I starting to like this guy without actually getting to know him first…
“While fuel is expensive, I love to drive.” I smiled sweetly at him as Mingi licked his tasty looking lips; I can’t seriously think they are tasty when it’s our first time talking, “So don’t worry about it.”
“Are you sure?” His eyebrows furrowed just slightly as he nervously chewed on his lower lip. I nodded and grinned at him, probably doing something no sane person would’ve done. But I have stopped caring a long time ago about what others consider sane or not. Rising on my tiptoes, I slung an arm around Mingi’s shoulders and yanked his head down, just a little closer to my face as I nodded enthusiastically. The way his face became red shouldn’t have made me feel so giddy.
“Extra super-duper sure, Mingi.” He chuckled and poked my cheek, I guess it was my turn being taken by surprise. We stood like two idiots grinning at each other as I released him and he took a step back, running his fingers through his silver-blonde hair again, drawing my attention to it once again. Oh, how could I have forgotten? He was a Leo, was he waiting for my compliment? But before that, I was curious about one thing, “Hey, why do you always stare at me?”
Mingi’s face went blank for a second and it made me think that perhaps now is when his psychotic side comes to light, meaning I would dodge a bullet quite early on, but no, he rubbed his lips with two fingers nervously and averted his eyes, “Uh, well…obviously I’m into you. I mean, you know, why else would I stare at you so much?”
Oh, and he’s blunt. Don’t you just love a man who gets straight to the point?
“Because you’re a psycho who hates my guts and imagines how to kill me any time he sees me?” I offered another option, and watched as Mingi’s eyes widened to the point they would pop.
“No!” He exclaimed, almost looking scared himself, “God, no! You’re pretty, and attractive, and you caught my eye a long time ago, I was just too much of a chicken to approach you before.”
“Well, what changed?” I raised an eyebrow, and Mingi scratched his nape awkwardly.
“Uh, my friends threatened to tell you if I didn’t do it myself.” I chuckled and motioned for him to follow me as I started walking towards the parking lot of our university.
“Took them long enough,” I muttered under my breath, but Mingi’s eyes fixated on me as he heard me, “Well, Mingi, I also must admit you’ve caught my eye. Mainly because you staring so much made me feel uncomfortable until I got used to it, but…you’re quite handsome yourself upon a closer look, I must admit.”
Mingi chuckled, shooting me an amused lopsided smirk, “Means I’ve got a chance.”
“Means you’ve got a chance.” I looked at him with a grin, our gazes locking for a few seconds.
To date or not to date a Leo, is today’s question.
Masterlist
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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^
#bvidzsoo#cromernet#song mingi#mingi x reader#ateez mingi#song mingi x reader#mingi fluff#song mingi fluff#mingi drabble#song mingi drabble#mingi imagines#song mingi imagine#mingi scenarios#song mingi scenarios#mingi smut#song mingi smut#mingi angst#song mingi angst#song mingi fanfic#ateez drabbles#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez blurbs#ateez fanfic#ateez x reader#ateez fluff#ateez smut#ateez angst#ateez university au
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Hellow there! Hope you’re doing well!!
I’m a sucker for your yan!König and your writings had me wondering - would König ever fall out of love with Mrs.König? Like, what would it even take for it to happen?
People may simply lose their feeling for each other with time - ten, fifteen years of being married. Or maybe like, idk, her cheating on König?(if she manages to get out of their house lol) Or maybe if König met someone “more interesting” who triggers his psycho tendencies even more than Mrs. König does?
I’ll be happy to hear your opinion on that! But ofc absolutely no pressure, please ignore it if you don’t feel like responding to this!!🙏🏻🙏🏻
Lots of love<3
Hi!! Omg hello!!
Answering your question – I don't think Konig would ever fall out of love with Reader. The out-of-the-universe explanation is that I write escapism and silly romantic stories where the girl gets love just by existing, so I really don't like writing angst and falling out of love.
In-universe...Konig is deranged, truly. There is no reason why he noticed Mrs.Konig at first – she might have resembled that innocence, weakness, helplessness, got in the right place in the exact time, so Konig launched his feelings onto her, accepting us as a little pet and pretty wifey.
He us obsessed with us from the first sight, so I think the only possible reason for him to stop loving us...if we're dead. In case of cheating, he will modt likely rather kill us than let go, and his obsession will only get worse, so there is truly no way out of gis affection. His love is enough for both of us.
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Hello! I’ve been reading your posts for a couple weeks now and I love them sm! Muichiro has a place in my heart after season 3 lol. I was wondering if you could do a one shot where the reader saves him from a vital blow from a demon after a bad argument? It hits her in her shoulder and goes almost all the way through her body. So there’s blood and all that stuff. It splashed muichiro in the face and he’s just silent as reader hits the floor. He defeats the demon and reader is just unconscious (not dead) and he freaks? Idk how it would end though? If this sounds absolutely crappy just ignore me 🥹 love your writing!
You get badly hurt by a demon after a fight with Muichiro.
Warnings: blood
You couldn't believe after all this time Muichiro still had the nerve to talk down to you. Sure you were still ranked lower than him but you had proven your worth, the days of feeling you didn't deserve respect were long gone.
You cursed the fact that you both were summoned in the middle of an argument to quickly catch a group of demons. Even more, frustration welled up inside you that Obanai had already beaten you both to the demon.
Why were you even summoned when a Hashira was already at the demon? Whatever the case, you and Muichiro quickly got to work attacking the demons with Obanai.
Whether it was due to the reassuring presence of Obanai being another Hashira in the fight, or the argument you were both in right before the fight, you both seemed to be disorganized in the fight.
To the point that you saw Muichiro left an opening for a demon to come right for him. Without thinking you quickly moved yourself between Muichiro and the demon.
The demon's attack went completely through your shoulder splashing blood everywhere. Swiftly Muichiro spun and cut the demon's head off as you fell to the floor.
Obanai had just taken out he last demon and rushed to assess the situation with Muichiro.
Muichiro stared over your body completely in shock as more blood from your wound spilled out to soak his feet.
"What the hell are you doing just standing there!" Obanai barked at Muichiro. Obanai quickly took off his haoir and wrapped it around your wound.
"We have to get her to the Butterfly Mansion right away,"
Muichiro blinked away the tears forming in his eyes, "Right-" He finally spoke.
"Well pick her up!" Obanai commanded, irritated at Muichiro's shock and lack of action.
Muichiro shook his head quickly trying to focus then carefully grabbed you into his arms. Obanai took off in the direction of the Butterfly Mansion and Muichiro followed right behind.
"Why were you both fighting so carelessly?" Obanai asked, as the two Hashria's continued to run.
"We were in the middle of a disagreement when we were summoned," Muichiro spoke.
"Hmm- I see," Obanai responded.
"Iguro..." Muichiro called from behind.
"Yes, Tokito?"
"She'll be alright won't she?"
"If we are fast enough," Obanai answered.
You woke up in the Butterfly Mansion to the sight of a misty-eyed Muichiro sitting across from you. Immediately he stood up when your eyes opened. You didn't feel any pain, actually the opposite you couldn't feel the right side of your body.
"Tokito?" You called hazily looking at the Hashira.
"Do you need anything? How do you feel? Are you ok?" He bombarded you with questions.
"I can't really feel anything yet," You answered. 'What happened?"
"I wasn't paying attention and you took an attack from a demon to save me," he explained.
"Oh..." You started to have some memories of the event flooding back to you.
"Are you ok?" You asked.
Muichiro scoffed, "Yes thanks to you," He answered. "I shouldn't have been so careless," He said, looking down at the floor.
"It's ok- we weren't really in a good mindset. I'm sorry we fought," you said.
"No, you don't need to apologize. I'm the one that let you down. I was useless in that fight," he scolded himself.
"You got me back here safe. It's ok, don't be so hard on yourself," You tried to console him.
"No, I can't take credit for that either. I stood frozen while Iguro took control of the situation. You should be thanking him, not me," Muichiro said, tears beginning to form in his eyes.
"Tokito, it's ok. It was just a bad day. Nothing we can't overcome," you pleaded with him.
"No, I- I'm sorry I should go-" He said, turning to walk out and get one of the butterfly girls.
"No!" You yelled at the Hashira. "Don't leave me please!"
"You really want my company after the harsh things I said and my negligence in today's fight," he said bitterly.
"You're so aggravating sometimes, Tokito! Just come here," You said sternly, swallowing a lump in your throat.
Muichiro reluctantly moved closer to you. You reach out for his hand bringing it to your lips and gently placing a kiss.
"Stop being so difficult," you commanded. Finally, Muichiro's shoulders relaxed a bit and a smile found a way to his face.
Thank you so much for the request I hope you enjoy it~
Tags~
@aeolia18 @yandere-kou @sakurasunkiss @hashiroses @plvuii @snowmist-hashira
#demon slayer#kny x reader#kny x you#anime x reader#anime x y/n#demon slayer x reader#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer x y/n#demon slayer x you#muichiro x y/n#kny muichiro#muichiro tokito#kimetsu muichiro#muichiro x reader#muichiro fluff#tokito muichiro x reader#demon slayer muichiro#muichiro x you#hashira#mist hashira#kny hashira#kny fanfic#kny fluff#kny#kny x y/n#demon slayer hashira#hashira x reader#kimetsu no yaiba hashira
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Marigolds In The Porch Lights (18+)
Gardener!George Harrison × GN!Reader
Genre: Smut (FINALLY), but also some Fluff and Angst
Warnings: A poor attempt at a shower sex scene, unprotected sex (ALWAYS USE PROTECTION, Y'ALL), and some kinda twisted feelings I guess idk these two are just constantly teasing each other
Words: 6.4k (I had so much fun with this y'all)
Summary: 1971 era; SEQUEL TO STRAWBERRY LEMONADE; George and Reader finally have their time together; also Geo is not famous in this so I guess it counts as AU lol
A/N: MUST READ STRAWBERRY LEMONADE FIRST FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE! But honestly the amount of requests I got to make a sequel, anyone who's here has probably already read S.L. (also thank you for all the requests! <3)
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One week had gone by since the blossoming of your new relationship with George, and you could not stop thinking about him. Calling him during the week just for your own pleasures seemed rather selfish, so you forced yourself to wait the full week until his next Saturday gardening job. After all, that wouldn’t be fair to his personal schedule, now would it?
Now, here it was, the fateful Saturday afternoon, and the anticipation was swarming you. You knew that you were always his last appointment of the week, and you would have him all to yourself from now until the sunset. You contemplated walking outside naked to greet him, but quickly remembering that neighbors exist, the idea was obligated to fade away. You still wished you could, though.
You left the gate unlocked, allowing him to let himself in. He was so caring of your space, taking time to lock the gate behind him so as not to allow the opportunity of any unwanted guests. You waited by the patio for him, prepared with another plate of fresh strawberries and a cold glass of lemonade. You made enough for two this time, specifically if those two were going to be staying together for a while.
Upon George’s entry, he eyed the fruity treats reminiscent of his previous time here. Instead of helping himself to a snack, he approached you to place a patient kiss upon your lips, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist as he did so. His other hand held his gardening toolkit, keeping it at his side while you deepened the kiss. George was almost ready to drop the bag and take you in his arms, but felt he should at least accomplish what you’re paying him for first.
“How have you been?” You started, having a bit more courage to talk to him this time. He laid out his tools as he knelt in the grass.
“Doing what I normally do, I guess.” He replied absentmindedly, “Though I was excited to get back here and see how the strawberry seeds are doing.” He flashed you a cheeky grin, and your shoulders instantly floated down to a more relaxed stance. George wasn’t big on expressing his true feelings directly, but he had his own ways of getting his point across. You slowly drifted off, listening to his voice as he spoke, until he stopped, and you realized he was waiting for you to answer his question.
“Pardon?” You squeaked, causing George to tilt his head in confusion.
“You have been watering the strawberries, right?” He repeated, gesturing to the empty space beside him, “The soil looks moist, so I’d say they’re doing well.”
“Oh! Yes,” You giggled, “I purchased a book on how to care for them the morning after you planted it.” A wide smile spread on George’s face, giving you a short nod and happily moving on to the next patch of flowers. You wore a scarlet colored dress today, planning for him to give you a matching rose from your garden. You concluded that you were the one who could determine which type of flower you receive by the color you chose to wear that day. You weren’t sure if George was also aware of this arrangement, or he just enjoyed finding flowers for you too much to notice.
You had treated this time you spent with George almost like your first date. You wanted to know everything there is to know about him, no matter how minor. In the hours that he had been there, you learned that George also knew how to play guitar, and he enjoyed writing songs, but was never really interested in the life of fame and performing to the public, so he preferred not to pursue it. Being a gardener and getting as much time in nature as he could was more than enough to make him happy.
The time went faster than you both wanted it to, partly because this time felt like you had known each other for years. George had even taken the time to show you how to tend to certain flowers, as the rules differed based on the type of plant. He showed you all his tools, demonstrating how to use them and the best places to start to preserve the flowers, as well as any of his personal favorite natural additives to help the flowers grow. You now knew that adding common household items, such as white vinegar or banana peels can give your flowers a speed boost. George even explained how ground coffee could be beneficial to the soil if you decided to start growing vegetables. His wide range of knowledge was better than any purchasable book could provide.
Before you knew it, the sky was growing orange, and the sunset was upon you. More time to spend with George aside from his occupational responsibilities was not completely out of the question, so you hadn’t lost hope yet. That is, until you saw him reach for his bag to start packing up his tools.
“You’re leaving?” You blurted out, not wanting to sound desperate but your body not even giving you a chance to consider your words. “You just got here!”
George glanced down at his watch, eliciting a small chuckle. “I’ve been here for three hours, love.”
“Well it felt like three seconds to me.” You pouted, crossing your arms and slumping back against the tree you were sitting under. “And you said we would do more together next time! That’s what you said the last time you were here!”
“And we did, didn’t we?” George replied, not missing a beat. “Last time, there was much more uncomfortable silence. This time, we had a wonderful conversation.” He paused to remove his gloves and place them in the pocket on the side of his bag, slowly rising from where he was seated in the grass. “That’s a pretty big improvement, don’t you think? It’s something I can cherish, especially since we won’t be seeing each other next week.”
Your eyes widened. Initially, you weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly, but it was true. First you had missed out on quality time with George and now next week he wasn’t going to come by? You felt your heart sink, trying your hardest to keep the tears from escaping your eyes.
“Why not?” You whined, a little louder this time. You didn’t want to sound like you were throwing a tantrum, but it was difficult when that was exactly what you wanted to do.
“I’ll be out of town next weekend.” George replied matter-of-factly, “I’m going to visit my family as one of my relatives is getting married. The wedding is on Saturday, so I’ll be gone the whole weekend.”
You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to do anything that would make him stay. But why? He didn’t do anything wrong, but your impression of how the day would go when he got here was a lot different than how it actually went down. You felt like you were lied to, except that you weren’t. Last week, George said that you would ‘make more time for each other’ this time, and technically, you did. He never said what that time was going to be spent on. Perhaps you two had different ideas as to what his return would bring. But instead, you tightened your chest, putting away that tantrum for your alone time later.
“But I thought-” You stopped yourself, knowing that telling George what you really wanted could potentially lead to unwanted results, especially if he didn't feel the same way.
“Thought what?” George asked, staring at you as you mentally cursed yourself for popping a corner of the lid on Pandora's Box. “Did you have a plan for today?” He was too clever. There was no going back now.
“Well…” You started, feeling a blush creep up onto your cheeks, “Sort of…”
“Oh?” He teased, the sunset casting a brilliant sparkle on those dark brown eyes, “Well, come on then. Out with it.” You pursed your lips, shifting your gaze to the floor. George leaned in closer, the coarse hairs of his mustache brushing against the shell of your ear. “So long as we're pretending I don't already know.”
He knew what you wanted. He was going to make you say it.
You stood concerningly still, almost frozen. It was a battle of wits, but you weren't exactly sure if you wanted to win or lose. If you gave up now, and spilled your guts, would you get what you wanted? Or would George continue to string you along, making you wait anyway just to see you squirm?
George sighed, looking at his watch again. “Well,” he huffed, feigning annoyance, “if you have nothing else to say, I suppose I should be going now.” He kissed your cheek, wedging his hand into your own to leave his complementary petal before making his way to the gate. You couldn't even look at him as he left, feeling too embarrassed. Instead, you looked down at your hand. A rose petal, no surprise. You were about to head inside until you heard George call your name. You partially turned around, still feeling rather conflicted. He was standing on the other side of the gate, pointing towards the patio.
“I'd turn that light on if I were you. It gets rather dark out here.” He waited for you to respond. You slowly nodded, approaching the back stairs. And with that, he got in his car and drove off.
You flipped the switch, watching as the porch light came on. It was a glimmering golden yellow hue, expanding its beam about halfway through the garden. You weren't sure why George told you to put it on, but it did make the garden look brighter. Even when you were angry with him, you would still do whatever he wanted you to.
But why were you angry? George hadn't done anything wrong. You knew he was teasing you, but you didn't care. In fact, there was a part of you that liked it. You felt like he was playing with you without even touching you. Wrapped so tightly around his finger that you felt like it was your life force. It strangled you in the best way possible. Like an invisible leash secured around your neck, and he could pull you wherever he wanted. You were completely and truly captivated by him.
Slipping quietly into the house, you felt like you wanted to cry. The anger had subsided and was soon replaced by a persistent longing. Your disdain towards having to go two weeks without seeing George wasn’t even due to the fact that you were crazy about him. It had become a routine. At this point, you wished you hadn’t been so shy to start a conversation with him the first three times he showed up. That you hadn’t waited until just this previous week. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe you’d be closer.
You didn’t know where to go from there. Part of you accepted this as what it was, and you would see George eventually, while another part of you felt defeated that you wanted to do something about this when you knew you couldn’t.
When you woke up the next morning, your house felt quieter, despite you having always lived alone. Almost like George had been staying in the guest room this whole time unbeknownst to you. Perhaps he was a frequent visitor to the guest room in your brain.
You spent the rest of your weekend like any other weekend: it was another gorgeous spring day, and you loved to sit out on the patio and catch up on your reading while you enjoyed your lunch or an afternoon snack, hearing the faint melodies coming from your living room of whatever record you put on for the occasion. It was the only time you actually preferred being alone. Perhaps it was the only activity potent enough to fill the void of your longing for George.
When night came again, you headed inside, about to shut the patio door when you swore you heard a voice.
I’d turn that light on if I were you.
You froze, but briefly shrugged it off as being in your head. You looked outside, barely being able to see your garden, but knowing it was only your subconscious. You shut the door, turning to walk away until you heard it again.
It gets rather dark out here.
You sighed. Even when George wasn’t around, you felt like he was right beside you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry, so you released a noise that sounded like a mixture of both as you flicked the porch light on, not paying it another thought as you headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Monday morning. You dreaded it more this week for some unknown yet obviously known reason. The past few weeks, you would just think about your weekend with George to get you through the boring parts of the day. But since this weekend did not pan out like you thought it would, there wasn’t much to occupy your mind. That was the hard part about all this. George didn’t have a typical nine-to-five. He would have gardening sessions scattered throughout his day. Sometimes he would be booked solid, and other days would be quick appointments for treatments, leaving more time for his personal schedule. Even if you wanted to meet up with him during the week, your strict schedule prevented you from having any time with him. Maybe something could’ve been worked out eventually, but the current state of your brain would not settle for that. You wanted him and you wanted him now.
When you got home that night, the feeling had not left. It was more manageable while you were away, but you felt like you were coming home to a house that was once full of life, only to no longer harbor that same feeling. You had never realized how much life George brought to your daily routine even when you didn’t live together. For a moment, you wondered why this was affecting you so much. Perhaps you were overreacting. You would see George again. It would just be longer than usual until you did. You released a heavy sigh, a sliver of hope that you could push this feeling out of your mind, for at least a little while, had begun to show itself.
Until night fell. You glanced at the back door.
The porch light.
That fucking porch light.
The entire time you lived here, you barely even acknowledged its existence. But ever since George made you aware of it, you think of it every night. Subconsciously, you thought maybe if you were consistent in putting it on every night, he would come back. He would find his way to you, sensing your desire to see him, and you would never be apart again. Never be alone again.
You turned it on again, simultaneously hopeful in your delusional scenario and growing impatient at how long your heart wanted to keep up the act.
The next morning, going by the door to shut the light felt like a walk of shame. What were you waiting for? George had his own schedule. His own life. He would see you when he could. You couldn’t help but start thinking if George was missing you as much as you were feeling every day was so bleak without him.
But yet, that night, you turned the porch light on again. Feeling an overwhelming, compelling urge to stay, you opened the back door, stepping out onto the patio. You stared up at the light, admiring the wonderful golden hue of the small bulb inside its painted glass shade. The shade was brushed in bright yellow, matching the bulb and some other accents of the house’s exterior decor. It seemed so much more prominent at night. It was the only thing visible from far away. A sign of life in the home. You smiled at the thought. You would’ve probably never got around to use it if it wasn’t for George. He truly did bring new life into your home.
Thanks to the light, you could see the first few rows of flowers in your garden surrounding the large tree in the center of the yard. This was your gradient row, as you loved to refer to it as. The row where George had taken many creative liberties, creating a smooth-flowing spectrum of colors around the tree like a color wheel. The warm tones faced the house, showing you your lovely spread of roses, tiger lilies, and marigolds.
The marigolds reminded you of the light. Bright, yellow, and outstanding. It was also one of the only few flowers in your garden that George had not given you petals from. You turned back to the light. You decided it could be your marigold petal. At least for now.
You didn’t stay long. You quickly returned inside, shuffling briskly back down the hall, trying to make it to the bathroom before the tears dripped off your face and down onto the floor.
The following morning, as your fingers brushed against the switch to turn off the light, you let out a loud sob. It had rained in the middle of the night, and the sight outside the back door, one of gray overcast and a messy, muddy garden, made it all feel much too real. You couldn’t hide it anymore. You missed George. Oh, how you missed him. One day a week wasn’t enough anymore. You needed more of him. So much more. More than your own mind, body, and soul would ever know.
You considered taking off work today, as your mangled emotions were surely draining your energy. But realizing that staying home would only twist the knife further, you conceded. It was almost as if any choice that life could make would've been wrong in your eyes. Whether you went to work or stayed home, you felt uncomfortable. If the work day went quickly, you were dreading coming home to face your feelings again. Yet, if the day dragged on, you groaned at the thought of having to endure more time until your fateful reunion with George. You were incessantly unsatisfied. Insatiable, even. The only correct answer was George. You needed him to give you what he had promised you, whether he was waiting for you to admit it or not. At this point, you wouldn't have even cared if you sounded desperate. You were desperate. You didn't care if you had to call him right now and divulge everything you felt. How badly you wanted and needed him. Your brain was chasing a fierce addiction, and George was your dealer.
That night had been the hardest so far. You couldn't even bring yourself to walk down that hall. The light wasn't going to be some magical beacon to signal George. You felt like you were holding onto nothing. You didn't care if the light wasn't on tonight. It made no difference anymore.
You went to sleep early that night. Your main thought process was to sleep as much as you could to make the days go by faster. You didn't even want to think about this Saturday. Your soul felt like it was grieving. But grieving what? George didn't break up with you. Technically, the two of you never even established any sort of declaration of a relationship anyway. But you felt like you belonged together. You were his and he was yours. As sweet as the thought was, you quickly shoved it away as you felt your eyes welling with tears.
You turned on your side to try and sleep when you heard a noise outside. It sounded like a low thud, but fairly close to your house. You shrugged it off at first, until you heard it again a few minutes later, sounding closer this time.
You sat up in bed, overtaken by fear. Living alone, you always worried about having to fight off intruders. Luckily, nothing had ever come of it. Until now.
Grabbing a broom from your hall closet to arm you, you headed into the living room. Your first instinct was to check out the front window, being too scared to open the door.
You peered through the curtains, seeing nothing to the left or right of the door, the street only illuminated by the porch lights of your surrounding neighbors. Of course the universe had to think of a way to remind you of what you were desperately trying to put out of your head.
You closed the curtains, ready to go back to bed when you heard what sounded like wet footsteps coming from your back door.
Oh fuck.
If this really was an intruder situation, you were anything but prepared. You glanced at the back door, hiding behind the hall corner. With your breath held and your muscles stiff as the wooden boards beneath your feet, you took slow steps down the hall. You lurched forward to quickly lock the door, which you normally did anyway but forgot that night as you never actually made it to the door without crying.
Knowing that the lock was safely in place brought you some time. Being closer to the door, you heard another sloshing sound, as well as some angry muttering. With your luck, the intruder slipped on the wet and muddy grass and was now disoriented, leaving you time to- well, do what, exactly?
You hadn't thought this far. Do you call the police? Make a loud noise in retaliation in hopes to scare them away? Armor yourself with throw pillows to burst through the door and use your broomstick to beat them senseless? Your mind was racing. The most reasonable thing to do in that moment, although it hurt quite a bit, would be the answer to whether this was really a life or death situation.
You turned on the porch light.
When the illuminating glow hit the grass below, you saw a person laying there, covered in mud, clearly not anticipating the new biome that had been created in your backyard. You screamed, causing the person to immediately look up at you. Upon making eye contact, you felt your heart spring up into your throat before free falling down to your stomach. You threw open the door, feeling like you were being fled with a million emotions at once, all conflicting each other. You stood there in shock, only being able to choke out one single word.
“...George?”
“I thought I told you to keep that bloody light on! I almost broke my neck out here!” George shouted, but couldn't keep a straight face long enough to be convincing, dissolving into a puddle of laughs back onto the ground. You felt your whole body fill with happiness. You dropped the broom, running out into the yard, slippers and all, squealing all the way before landing on top of him, trapping him in a tight hug.
You kissed him faster than your brain could process what you were doing. The familiar feeling of his soft skin, luscious hair and beard, and plush lips made your whole being swell with euphoria. Your golden yellow silk pajamas were now full of mud, but it didn't matter. George was back here with you. And you didn't need anything else.
“You’re getting all muddy, love.” George giggled, pushing damp strands of hair away from your face.
“I don't care!” You shouted while laughing, pressing loud, wet kisses across his face and neck. George wrapped his arms around you, resting his hands on your waist. You pulled away, staring into his eyes. It may have been late at night, but you felt wide awake as ever. Before you even opened your mouth to speak, you knew there were tears dripping down onto your cheeks. “I didn't think I'd see you again for a while.”
“I planned to stop by before I left, but I didn't have much time during the day.” George confessed. “I wanted to surprise you, but I'm realizing it might have been a better idea in my head.” He looked around the yard, then at his muddy clothes, eliciting a light chuckle. “Thinking about it now, I probably should've called first.”
“I'm just so happy to see you.” You replied, not even hearing half of what he said. You heard he planned to come back for you, and that was all you needed to know. “But I'm guessing your plan involved you being able to see once you got back here. Hence the, you know, porch light.” You averted your gaze, adding a nervous laugh.
“First I tried hopping over the fence, and tripped over that.” George explained, staring back at the gate. “Then I tried to walk quietly, and slipped in that big puddle over there. Not to mention I tripped over the center gradient, so I apologize for that. I'll be sure to fix it the next time I'm around.” He added with a swift cup of your chin and a kiss to your lips. You looked at the tree, seeing the warm toned flowers slightly uprooted, tiny specks of dirt adorning their golden petals. Honestly, that didn't even matter to you. The image of George trying to sneak into your backyard and failing miserably made you erupt into laughter again.
“I suggest you have to get cleaned up now, don't you?” You asked, running a finger through the thick layer of mud adorning his jeans.
“Well, yeah, but I refuse to get your floors all dirty.” George declared. You helped him up off the ground, trying your best to smudge the dirt out of his hair, as well as your own.
“You can leave the clothes in the laundry room. I'll deal with them tomorrow.” You replied. George shot you a look, helping you brush some of the grass off your pajamas.
“So it's already been decided that I'm spending the night, then?” You smirked, not saying anything back. George smiled, sneakily pinching the skin on your waist. You squealed, playfully batting his hand away. You turned to walk back to the patio when he spoke again.
“Even after we get out of these filthy clothes, we still have to get ourselves clean, you know.”
You froze, a chill running through your spine, excitement filling your body. You whipped your head around, grabbing George’s hand and leading him to the stairs. You were about to open the door when he put his arm out to stop you.
“I know you're excited, love, but I still don’t want to bring all this mud into your clean house.” He seemed genuinely concerned by this issue, but at this point, nothing was going to stop you.
“Okay, fine. Easy fix.” You stated, slipping the straps of your pajamas off your shoulders, followed by your underwear. George’s eyes widened as he watched the silken fabric pool around your ankles, leaving you completely nude standing on the patio. The cool air of this particular spring night began to wash over your body, and you shivered slightly. You weren't sure if it was from the sudden breeze, or the tantalizing feeling of this whole situation, but either way, your nipples were completely hard.
Seconds later, George followed suit, removing his muddy shoes, followed by his equally sodden shirt and pants. He stopped at his underwear, feeling a flash of uncertainty. He was no stranger to being nude, but being nude while standing on the back porch of his lover’s house in the middle of their classy suburban neighborhood? That was a new one.
He turned back to you, taking in the sight before him. Seeing your fully bare form, taking one slow drag of his eyes over your lower half, he quickly shuffled off the remaining piece of clothing and tossed it on the floor with the rest. You opened the door, scooping your clothes up in one swift motion, walking a mere few feet and tossing them in the laundry room to be dealt with eventually. You couldn’t be bothered right now. George did the same, keeping his clothes in a neat pile right beside yours, placing his boots by the door. He stood there for a few seconds, gauging your readiness to proceed. With a smirk on your face, you grabbed his hand, leading him into the bathroom.
You opened the shower curtain and turned the water on, feeling the warm steam slowly fill the room. You adjusted the water to a comfortably neutral temperature before climbing inside, leaving space for George to join you. You stayed under the stream of water, allowing it to take its time to rinse all the mud off your arms and legs, and most of it out of your hair, leaving you with a fresher start before moving on to shampoo and soap. You looked over your shoulder at George, who now seemed rather chilly, so you switched places, allowing him to rinse off as well. He had been wearing more covering clothes than you, so there wasn’t much dirt he needed to get off his body, but his hair was a different story. He spent extra time using his fingers to comb through his beard, which seemed to be a prime target for all that grass and soil.
Getting started on washing your body, you had briefly turned away from George to grab your soap. Before you could open the container, you heard a low shudder coming from behind you. You looked at George, who was now staring at you, while sporting quite the erection. You giggled, lightly poking his stomach. “Am I taking too long for you?”
“You know, for someone who wanted me so badly outside, and is now teasing me about having to wait, you’re quite mad, aren’t you?” He stated, glancing down at himself while continuing to rinse his hair. You laughed louder this time.
“I figured we would clean up first.” You said innocently. He chuckled.
“Why do that when we’re just gonna get dirty again, love?”
You bit your lip, holding back a whimper, but the way your legs involuntarily began to clench shut gave it away immediately.
You nodded. “I see. Well let’s get it on then.”
The second you finished your statement, George wasted no time grabbing your waist and pressing his lips against yours. It was a hungry kiss. Passionate. Longing. It had confirmed he missed you just as much as you missed him. You put your hands in his hair, which was now much softer under the water. You were the one to take that passion further, feeling his lips part and allowing your tongue to enter his mouth. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy this, moving his hands from your waist down to your ass, kneading it softly yet with an impatient edge to it. You were tempted to hook one leg over his waist, but the slippery floor beneath you made you fearful of losing your balance, so you refrained. But you wouldn't have even had time to take action, as George quickly pulled away, spinning you around and pushing you up against the shower wall. You put your hands out, both of them splayed out on either side of your head as your cheek made contact with the cold tile. George grabbed your waist again, slowly grinding against you, slightly pressing you between the wall and himself. The contrast in temperature between the cool, flat surface and the steamy air made your head spin before he even did anything else. He leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your earlobe.
“I think you've waited long enough, my beautiful flower.” You moaned softly at his statement as you felt him enter you. Slowly, savoring it just as much as you. It was a bit of a stretch, but you never found it painful. The combination of the warm water and your mutual arousal provided a decent amount of lubrication.
George continued to leave kisses around the shell of your ear and down to your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. Once he was all the way in, he steadied himself before going any further. “You doing okay, love?” He cooed, patiently waiting for your response.
You sighed blissfully, softly nodding your head and letting out a low “mhm” while taking in all the sensations around you. The mix of everything made you whine in pure ecstasy, feeling so full in the best way possible, not wanting to say or move much in fear of losing your grip on it. You felt like you were in a different world, where it was only you and George, and nothing else mattered. However, you were not in the mood to be kept waiting either, feeling like you were holding your breath a bit, waiting for his next move. You took another deep inhale and exhale, releasing another moan in the interim. “It's okay,” you mumbled, “you can keep going.”
George nodded, starting with a soft, slow pace. Even with shallow thrusts, you were already in heaven. You quickly got lost in the rhythm, hearing his occasional breathy sighs directly into your ear. Hearing him enjoy it just as much as you were only turned you on more. And the more George fell into a rhythm as well, the faster he went. His thrusts became quicker and harder, pushing you up against the wall with each motion. Your moans had just become one long groan of pleasure, the way your nipples dragged across the cold wall with each thrust stringing you along even further.
When you felt that pressure start to build, you couldn't even form a coherent sentence to signal anything, the only word falling from your lips a meek “George...” before a high-pitched whining overtook you again. George shushed you softly, rubbing his thumbs along your waist as he brought you closer to the edge.
“I know, flower. I know.”
What felt like seconds later, you felt your orgasm crash over you, a noise that sounded like a mix between a moan and a scream flying from your mouth, proclaiming your everlasting love and worship of the man behind you, feeling yourself begin to slump against the wall, trying to catch your breath. George finished shortly afterwards, his grip on your hips tightening as he came inside you. He tilted his head back, a low, steady groan signaling his release. He had no choice but to use the wall for support as well, nearly falling on top of you after he slowly slid out. It was times like these you considered turning off the shower head and just filling up the bath instead, as your legs felt like jelly by this point, leaving you with minimal energy to hold yourself up.
Before you could say anything else, you felt George’s hands on you again, running his fingers through your hair. You smelled the familiar scent of your shampoo, feeling it glide through your hair as you closed your eyes again. He held you tenderly, guiding your head to the water, gently tilting it back to rinse the suds from your hair.
Once finished, he started on your body, massaging the soap all over your back, making sure to be careful around any areas that were currently more sensitive than usual. You sighed happily, feeling pampered like royalty, so grateful to have him here with you.
After a few minutes, your legs didn't feel like that of a newborn giraffe anymore, so you turned around to face George, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before taking the bar of soap. “I got it from here.” You giggled, finishing yourself off before starting to help him out as he eyed your shampoo. It wasn't what he used, but it smelled nice, and there wasn’t much of a choice in this situation. He chuckled before squeezing a small amount onto his palm, looking down as you lathered up his chest and stomach.
Once you both had thoroughly cleaned up, you turned off the water and stepped out, fetching some large fluffy towels and equally soft robes to only increase your level of comfort. By now, both of you were free of mud, partially dry, and ever so tired. Wasting no time to climb into bed, you snuggled up against George, resting your head on his chest.
“I'm so happy you came back.” You whispered, placing a kiss right over where his heart is. George giggled, caressing your arm.
“I would've always come back, flower.” He paused with a pensive sigh. “I enjoy every second I spend with you. You give me new life. A new purpose to an already wonderful experience.” You stared up at him, eyes wide in awe. It was the first time he had openly expressed his feelings to you without hiding them behind his usual cheeky humor. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard.
“You have no idea how special you are to me.” You beamed, craning your neck up to kiss his jawline, surprised when he turned his face and you landed on his lips instead.
“And you to me.” He replied. You enjoyed the streak of added sappy statements from George, but you knew it was a big step for him, judging by the deep breath he took afterwards, followed by a swift “Let's get some sleep, love.”
“Okay,” you agreed, “but let me just make sure I locked the back door first.” George nodded, getting comfortable on his side of your bed as you hopped out from under the covers, shivering again as the cool night air came back with a vengeance on your naked body. You quickly put your robe on and shuffled down the hall. You clicked the lock shut and went to go back to your room when you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. Something yellow.
You looked around until you spotted it again, sticking out of the side of George’s boot. Bending down to get a closer look, you moved the muddy laces and pulled it out. A tear almost fell down your cheek and you held it between your fingers. A petal from one of your precious marigolds, presumably stuck there when George tripped over them on the way in. You smiled warmly, feeling your heart soar at the idea that George can give you a petal every visit, even if he didn't realize it. Without saying anything, you put the petal in the pocket of your robe and made your way down the hall, trying not to disturb George as you quietly slipped back into bed.
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IT'S FINALLY HERE Y'ALL 😄 I'm so happy I can share it and it was definitely a fun plot to continue!
Taglist: @peaceloveandstarrs @queen-of-stars @nosegoes @cocteautwiny @thatgoesinthere-misshapes
(If you want to be added to my taglist, feel free to send an ask and let me know! 🥰)
#george harrison#george harrison x reader#the beatles#beatles#the beatles x reader#the beatles fanfiction#beatles x reader#beatles fanfiction#george harrison fanfiction#george harrison imagine#george harrison x y/n#george harrison x you#george harrison smut
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hi! i have a question i’m directing at you bc i’ve seen the idea going around tumblr but most recently on your post — if a student is caught using ai to cheat do you think that’s worth expulsion? should that be the best case scenario punishment? while i understand the importance of making it known to students the severity of using chatgp, at the same time i feel like that’s a very harsh punishment for being caught cheating. but then also at the same time! i’m not a teacher and i don’t know if it’s possible to teach a student to value their education and the opportunity they have for high learning if they don’t already personally believe that the opportunity is a gift. idk! this isn’t really a structured question but i guess i’m curious about how you (or in general, how professors) feel about expulsion for chatgp (i know you’re just one person and don’t speak on behalf of all educators lol but it’s just something i’ve been curious about)
Expulsion as in, ejected wholesale from the entire university, Do Not Darken Our Door Again? No, I don't.
I think what outsiders tend to miss is that students who do this, 99% of the time, are desperate. Something has gone terribly wrong, they're desperate to meet those deadlines and get that work done, and in my experience it's almost always wrapped up in neurodivergence (usually undiagnosed) and frequently a home situation that's made their lives a shit show and pushed academia to a back burner.
But, it's a more serious issue than high school cheating on a multiple choice quiz. Degrees are crafted to have quality assurance built in, and with good reason. The whole point of a degree is that it's proof of higher learning, and specialist knowledge - you get a higher salary (in theory lol) because your employer is paying for the very expensive training you've undergone. This is particularly important in something like medicine or construction, because if you haven't actually completed all parts of that degree you could kill someone; but even in my own field, if you fundamentally don't understand the physical processes of a sand dune as well as its ecology, and someone hires you to manage that sand dune... well, it's going to be an over-stabilised mess in about five years' time and you've killed the rare sand lizards and mining bees that were living there. And if your degree is a course in an institution who is famous for producing top quality environmental workers who know this stuff... well, you've just made your uni course look very, very bad in industry.
So unis are protective of their quality assurance, and that means they do not like cheaters. And I do agree with that, that's fair enough.
For me, though, I think the answer is not full expulsion. I would run it like this:
Confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that the student has indeed cheated. This must be confirmed.
IF NOT CONFIRMED: Mark the work strictly. Pair this with a viva - the student must be able to answer questions about the work from two lecturers with subject expertise, plus someone from the Academic Office (although that latter person can just observe only). This will determine how deep their knowledge is vs what they submitted, and should be factored into the overall mark.
IF CONFIRMED: Module fail, all marks for those credits set to zero, and the information included on transcripts (not why they failed, just that they attempted the module and got zero.) HOWEVER, the student is allowed one resit attempt; this might mean having to redo the year as a part-time student just to get that module, depending on how it's taught and how important it is.
All of the above with the understanding that their work is going to now be checked very closely going forward for repeat issues. In confirmed cases, a viva is now a required part of future work.
To be fair, mind, proving cheating is genuinely very hard, so depending on how strict the uni is, that's roughly the system that gets used anyway. Your work is very strictly marked, you get viva'd, and you usually fail on quality anyway (especially if your flavour of cheating was ChatGPT, because what it produces is shit.) After you've failed, gone through a resit period, and been capped at a pass mark for the fail, you realise pretty quickly that it would have been less stress and effort for a higher mark to just do the work yourself. And that's a learning curve everyone should be allowed, I think.
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Acolyte
word count: 2.7k
a/n: hii i'm going through a depressive episode and this is my fic about soap with a depressed reader cos he's my babygirl. might expand on them idk i love soap i wanna keep writing for him
Johnny is a friend of Kyle’s, and Kyle is a friend of Farah, who is your friend. And Johnny, or Soap, is here because Kyle invited him since he had “nothing better to do”. And it’s alright, he’s fun and a little loud, he talks over people but always apologises. You were a little nervous to meet him, having been promised a get-together with people you were already well-acquaintances with, but the tears in your eyes, from laughing, that is, dismiss all previous nerves.
“And then he-” He’s cut off by his own wheeze, it’s been going for a couple of minutes; him and Kyle trying to retell a story about their captain, but they keep getting interrupted by their own laughter. You don’t think it’s that funny, if anything their reactions are the thing that make you all go into hysterics. It’s hard to feel sorry for all the other patrons.
You feel drunker than you really are, save for Farah, you only had two to three beers each. It’s the kind of silly drunkenness induced by being with friends. The forgotten UNO cards on top of the table shake as Johnny’s fist hits the table trying to catch his breath.
And the pub’s playlist keeps playing every top #1 hit from the last 20 years. And at some point you’re all performing a rendition of smash hit “500 miles”. And you’re getting giggly with sleep. And Farah’s driving you home. And she’s asking you about Johnny, which makes you giggly all over. And she’s telling you he’s single.
And then it’s morning. And there’s a message from an unknown phone number.
“Hey. This is Johnny.
Just wanted to let you know I had a blast last night, loved meeting you :-)”
It makes you smile trying to figure out what to write back. Why is it so hard to sound nonchalant while also a little interested in getting to know him?
“So did I!
Haven’t laughed that hard in a while lol”
That’s cool, right? It’s half a good response at the very least, since you get a response back.
“Wanna meet sometime?”
Oh, that’s good. At best, you get a little attention and maybe a lay, at worst you get a new friend. You keep texting throughout the day, you two fit like a puzzle piece: talkative, extroverted and active. He sends you a picture of a squirrel he saw earlier on his morning run, you send him a picture of your cat back with the caption “my asshole son” to which he replies “don’t be mean to him”. Those little interactions keep getting exchanged. On Monday, you send him a fun fact about a shark that had a virgin birth. Tuesday, he’s telling you about his fear of dogs. Wednesday is the perfect occasion for a picture of your cat, Gus, sleeping in a funny position. Thursday, your phone pings with a string of texts ranting about Glasgow City. Friday you’re texting Johnny that you’re at the restaurant you’re meeting at, a hole-in-the-wall that mastered the art of oily food and crispy chips, he replies he’s running late.
“I’m so sorry for making you wait.” Is out of his mouth before any greeting. “Are ye hungry?” It’s more a conversation starter than an actual question.
“It’s okay! No worries.” You’re just happy to be hanging out, not bothered by his tardiness.
The two of you sit and chat, you learn he has a tattoo of a revolver but won’t say where. He laughs at the face you make while imagining where it would be. “Don’t be dirty!” He chastises, it’s within the law that you steal one of his chips as payment for the teasing. You ask where does Soap come from.
“A’m good at cleaning.” It’s a short answer that explains enough, you’re not keen on pushing the topic any further. Luckily, he changes the topic rather quickly, it looks like he’s not a big fan of silences. “Tell me aboot Gus. How’d you get him?”
“A colleague’s cat had kittens, she was trying to find them homes, Gus was the only one left, runt of the litter you know?” He nods, listening, interested in what you have to say. “Kept pushing and showing me pictures of the guy until I caved. When I took him home he wouldn’t stop screaming, I think he might be part siamese, they’re really vocal. So, he kept me up all night, I thought he was sick or something, I even took him to the emergency vet, turns out he’s just a dickhead.” He smiles at the insult. “A very cute one, though.” You add, it’s hard not to love him even if he wakes you up at 6 a.m. on the dot.
“Can I meet him someday?” he might if you’re lucky enough.
You might as well thank every saint, divinity, and omnipotent being for your luck tonight. He accompanies you home, only because “he’s a gentleman”, according to him. The kind of gentleman that kisses you dizzy and gets invited into your flat.
You text Farah about the events of the evening before falling asleep, it’s not kiss and tell if she’s your best friend. And in the early morning you’re both woken up by an angry Gus, whose side of the bed has been stolen by a guy that almost doesn’t fit in it. You’re cuddled on his side, one leg over his.
“Gus-Gus….” It’s a groggy mumble of displeasure, you know he only wants to be beside you, but the hour doesn’t help your mood. Still, you move away from Johnny so he can jump onto your chest for cuddles.
“He does skirl alright.” That morning voice might actually be the death of you.
“Told you. He’s an asshole.” A breathy laugh makes his bare chest move as he turns to face you.
“He’s real cute though.”
“Are you not tired?” The early morning light peeks through your window, the sun isn’t even out yet and you can’t imagine anyone that is appreciative of being woken up so early.
“Naw, no’ really. ‘M used to it.”
It feels weird, good weird, to have him in your bed like that. Barely a week since you met, and he feels so close, more like a friend than a one-night stand, more than a friends-with-benefits. He checks the time on his phone before speaking again.
“Ye want breakfast?” Your eyes are closed again, hugging Gus close to your chest, hand moving up and down his fur but not doing much to pet him. His call of your name is answered by a groan, it makes him chuckle. He scoots closer to you, you can feel his arm coming up for Gus to sniff and the cat readjusts himself so his head is closer to Johnny’s. “Hi”.
Oh but the warmth dissipating from his body is to much, that and the soft noise of Gus’ purr drives you to fall asleep again. You only half dream, a mixture of images that won’t make any sense once you’re awake again, which happens rather soon as the bed adjusts and you feel a hand run through your hair.
“Can I make tea?” His voice sounds softer than earlier, you nod, opening your eyes just a smidge to look up at him.
“Biscuits in the cupboard…”That’s as much as you can muster now. “Wake me up when it's done?”
“Course.”
He left with Gus following behind, but you can’t seem to fall asleep again. That was…rather intimate. Your stomach feels hot and your chest tighter. Shooting your eyes open you’re quick to grab your phone again, Farah replied an hour ago.
“Wooo! Good for you”
“You’re gonna have to tell me everything about it btw”
“Farah”
“How pathetic is it to have a crush on your one night stand?”
Oh you don’t like that, calling him a one night stand, feels too impersonal, rude almost.
You’re getting out of bed, into your restroom and to the kitchen.
“Good morning” He leans against the kitchen counter where your meds are,he’s looking at his phone waiting for the kettle to boil, clad in his boxers from last night, hair a mess and body soft under the morning light. Even though it’s the same body it feels so different from last night, scars, bigger and small, litter his body, it’s muscular and soft at the same time, big pecs a tad too inviting and a tattoo on his forearm. Reaching for the pills would mean standing next to him, probably brushing against—no, touching him, and that makes you nervous. Oh. You’re embarrassingly down bad.
He stayed the entire weekend, Friday through Sunday. Next week it was picnic and football. You’re convinced any major team would be jealous of your 1-person teams and 5 meter field. He’s good, but you’re full of fear as he chases you for the ball, it’s the predator-prey kinda adrenaline that makes you score.
“Yes!”
“Offside! Offside!”
“What do you mean offside? There’s no one I can pass the ball to!” In fact, there’s not even a goal. You grab the ball and go back to him, looking straight into his eyes in fake defiance.
“Talking back to the referee? That’s a red card.” He looks so handsome like this, standing tall and unmovable, even if only joking, and you let him know via a quick kiss to his lips. He’s pulling you back to his lips not even half a second after, deep and slow, giggly. “Bribin’ me, huh?” You let out a soft, happy, sigh and kiss him again.
“Wanna go home?”
You tell Farah everything over a cup of tea and a piece of cake, of course. And she laughs at you, not in a mean way at all, only friendly and amused, still you hit her arm.
And the following week it’s film night. This one’s more spontaneous than the others, it’s been a tough week at work, you want a quiet evening and some company so you ask him if he wants to come hang out, he replies saying that he’ll be there in 30.
It’s the two of you, your favourite take out, Gus-Gus sitting on the back of the sofa and Fargo on the TV. He’s not paying as much attention to the film as he is to you.
“What?” You say, turning to look at him.
“Ye’r a beauty.” You smile shyly and kick him on the leg with your foot slightly. “A’m serious. I like you a lot.” A big smile grows on your face, and it’s enough confirmation for him to know you feel the same.
Or at least he thought so. There are no plans for this weekend, not for lack of trying, that is, Soap’s been trying to text you all week, it’s a big shift from your daily texting. He misses the little life updates you send him. Tuesday, he thought you might just be busy. Wednesday he stops trying to contact you, did he do something wrong? Went too fast? Are you ghosting him? What did he do that was worth the silent treatment? Thursday, he tries calling you, multiple times. Friday all rational thoughts have left his brain, did something happen to you? Are you okay? Christ, what if you’re dead? He texts Farah, swallowing his embarrassment.
“She’s okay, I think.”
“Going through a bit of a depression episode at the moment.”
“She’s going recluse, I know she wouldn’t mind a bit of help.”
“I have a spare key to her flat if you want to come get it.”
The string of texts floats around his mind, spare key in hand in front of your front door. He’s been inside before, but he was invited in, this feels invasive, but Farah trusted him, and she knew you best. He sent you a message before showing up, the last bit of chivalry he can offer before showing up in your home, it went through, and he hoped you read it even if you didn’t reply.
He calls your name upon entering, no response. Gus comes running up to him to headbutt his legs and meow, a quick look lets him know his water bowl is clean and automatic feeder full, that’s a good sign. His voice trembles as he calls for you again.
“You know where she is?” Great, now he’s speaking to the cat, and he meows in response, great, an actual conversation with a cat. Gus takes off and squeezes himself into a room with the door ajar, your bedroom. He knocks before entering, not expecting a response. The room is dark except for the light coming from your laptop, empty and half-full glasses taking up most of the space on your desk, chair full of unfolded clothes and a doughnut of blankets on the bed.
“Go away.” The doughnut speaks. His heart breaks at the sad, much softer than usual tone of your voice.
“Love.” The pet name slips from his lips, he notices but doesn’t attempt to correct himself. He walks closer until he’s sitting next to you. “Can I help you?”
You shake your head no, or what’s visible of it. “Go away, I stink.” He chuckles.
“That’s fine, smell better than the lads in base.” It’s a pathetic attempt at humour, you still shake your head no.
“You don’t have to do anything.” You don’t sound sad or angry like he thought you might, it’s emotionless, almost like an automatic generated response.
“But I want to. Want tae tak’ care o ye” He wants to make everything better, wants to fix everything, wants you happy and energetic and smiling. It’s silly how much he cares for you after barely a month of knowing eachother, scary now that he’s admitting it out loud. He pulls down the blankets for a full view of your face, his hand goes to your hair, it’s tangled, he’s careful not to pull on it. “Am gunna run you a bath.” It’s not a question, you laugh slightly and he smiles, realising what he said. “Didny mean it like that, c’mon.”
He helps you up from the bed and into the restroom. From your seat ion the toilet, you observe the way he turns on the tap and rummages through your cabinet, trying to find something to put in the water, you assume. “The orange bar in the back.” He halts, looks for a second and comes up with it, he leaves it on the sink while he turns off the water, you grab the bar and crumble a bit of it into the tub. He looks at you and gets up, you take it as your cue to undress and get in. Johnny comes back with a change of pyjamas and underwear and leaves again. You can hear him moving around and making noise, talking to the cat in occasion, while you clean yourself, when he comes back it’s to put your dirty laundry in the hamper. You don’t know why that’s the thing that makes you break and start crying. As soon as he notices, he’s on his knees next to you, softly caressing your cheeks and moving your damp hair away from your face.
“Whit’s wrong?”
“I don’t want you to do this.” Is no reply to his question. “I don’t want you to have to do this.”
“M’eudail.” He starts. “It’s okay.”
“No it’s not!” You look up at him” I’m so sad all the fucking time and I don’t want you to have to deal with that, it’s not fair to you, you know? I don’t want you to have to take care of me or put up with me.”
“But what if I want to? Wanna take care of you, wanna put up with you.” You shake your head no, looking back down.
“Johnny, I’m so much. I get so clingy and stupid.”
“That’s fine by me.” There’s no deterring him. He lifts your head up by your chin to kiss your forehead, bright blue eyes staring at you.
And you realise how ridiculous this is. You’re crying in the bathtub, your friend-situationship is on his knees next to you, again, crying in the bathtub. You let out a sigh and nod.
“Okay.”
#cod mw2 fanfic#cod x reader#soap x reader#john mactavish x reader#john mactavish x you#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mactavish x you#johnny soap mctavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish x you#soap x you
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Soooo…I don’t wanna seem like I’m taking up your time or nothing…but…hear me out..
Reader works with ghostbusters and one day while the other three are on call it’s just reader and Venkman. They are working on the mood slime doing different tests and such. Venkman comes in to do his usual annoying and flirting technique when the reader shows him a ring on their finger and grin
“Sorry toots I’m taken by Dr Egon Spengler”
Then they just continue with work while venkmans just confused like “hEs EnGaGeD”
no bc i actually don't mind you're actually helping with writing muse because lately it was dead so you're doing my brain a justice !! :)
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( note, i could not decide who to put for the gif so enjoy all three of them <3 )
Sorry, Venkman, I'm Taken
technically an x reader but love interest isn't in the story? lol idk what to make of this.
WARNINGS : none! just peter being annoying lol
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YOU WERE JUST TRYING TO WORK WITH THE MOOD SLIME. While the other three were on a call, you were stuck with Peter Venkman. Sometimes it was bearable. Other times? Well, let's just say he was a bit of a flirt. An annoying flirt. Sometimes you can handle it, sometimes you couldn't. It just depended on how you felt and how patient you were at the time.
This day. You were not so patient.
You were conducting different tests for the slime. He was supposed to be helping. But all he did was pretty much hover over you with his poor flirtatious tactics. You weren't trying to give in to that behavior, as you deemed it immature.
"You're pretty quiet today, toots. You're not your usual self," you hear him say.
Toots. It never fails to make your nose scrunch up in disgust. That nickname made you feel like absolute garbage. But you dealt with it, mainly because you had to work with him.
"That's because I'm concentrating. It's kind of hard when you're blabbering in my ear," you tell him as you look at the cassette tape that's on the pool table.
You're looking at the Farewell to Kings cassette tape that's sitting next to the Jackie Wilson one that Egon has used prior for the experiment. It makes you wonder how it would react to Prog rock instead of the rhythm and blues.
"I wonder what it'll do for this tape," you mutter to yourself, before grabbing it.
You walk over to the radio, Peter following you like the lost puppy that he acted like. You didn't like being so close. It was a thing for you. The only one who could get that close to you was Egon. And right now, you were missing that company.
"Guess we're feisty today, huh?" Peter asks.
"Only because you won't leave me alone," you mumble, "You're supposed to be helping me. You could be doing something useful."
"I am doing something useful."
You close the cassette radio. Turning the tune to Cinderella Man. You turn back around to face him. Your eyes narrow before you walk away. He still follows you around.
"And what exactly are you doing?" You question, crossing your arms, "Because the only thing you have been doing is following me around like a lost puppy."
"I'm observing the mood slime, thank you very much," Peter answered, "I'm observing its reaction to you!"
You rule your eyes. "Oh yeah? And how is it reacting?"
"Very, very positive, toots," he tells you.
He tries to get closer, but you put your hand up so that he doesn't. You happen to raise the hand that had a ring on your finger. You had enough of his flirty antics and advances, and it was about time he knew that you were taken by one of your own colleagues.
"Sorry, toots," you say, almost mockingly, "I'm taken, Venkman. By Dr. Egon Spengler."
His eyes widen in shock while a smirk of amusement crawls onto your lips. His reaction was priceless to you. You just wondered what he had to say about it.
"Wait," Peter says, "He's engaged? Before me? How did Spengs get engaged before me?"
You finally put your hand down. "I dunno. Maybe because he doesn't creepily flirt. He's just himself," you say. You give a smile before walking away. Leaving Peter to think about his life decisions.
"I can't believe this," he muttered, before walking in the opposite direction.
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Hi, keep up the amazing work, I really love your hotd-posts! I really want to request something fluffy (and a lil angsty?) for Aegon, I just want to read about him being both miserable and happy.
So imagine rumors spreading across the castle after a servant walks into a noblewoman's chambers, only to find Aegon embraced and fast asleep on her chest. It is not exactly helping when Aegon later practically begs his mother to arrange for her hand in marriage. Everyone either assumes it is to protect her honor, although Aegon is not exactly known to respect the dignity of the many women he takes. Perhaps the lady gave the whore prince an unforgettable night unlike any other, what other reason could there be? Turns out nothing dishonorable happened. Aegon just stumbled in tipsy into her chambers, they drank together for a while and Aegon ended up drunkenly crying his heart out and falling asleep in her arms while she comforted him.
I feel like he is so deprived from love that just a crumble of care, love and nurturing is enough to have that man on his knees lol. Thank you so much again for your work and I hope the idea sounds OK <3
A/N: I used young!Aegon because I imagine him having been more vulnerable at that age, but nothing sexual happens anyways. Idk if this is gonna go how you expected, but here you go hun <3
***
"Forgive me, Your Grace, but...what?"
Nerves swirled around in your stomach as you sat before the queen. She stood a few feet from you in her gown of green and gold, a golden headband keeping back her tresses of brown curls. A regal queen. A graceful woman. A mother. You knew partly why she'd summoned you to her chambers so early in the morning. It'd been because of the young prince, Aegon.
"My son, the prince," she said more firmly, "He wishes to marry you instead of his sister. Why is that?"
You nearly told her 'You answered your own question, Your Grace,' but quickly held your tongue in. You'd done enough damage letting the boy climb into your bed. You wouldn't do yourself any favors insulting the royal family on top of that. Sighing, you answered:
"I suppose because he thinks himself in love with me."
Queen Alicent huffed, "And why would he? Did you give my incorrigible son a night he'd never forget?"
"In a sense, I suppose."
"Lady Y/N," she stepped forward, "If my son...If my son forced himself on you, you may tell me. Whatever transgressions or shame my son has brought onto you will stay within this room. Do not feel you have to hide anything."
"I am not, Your Grace," you nearly laughed. "Prince Aegon never touched me. I swear by all the gods, he did not."
"Then what happened?"
"Well...He'd come into my chambers after the welcoming feast. I saw him stumbling around and looking a bit lost. He...He fell onto my bed. I planned to go tell his guards, but nobody was there. But then..." you weren't sure if you should tell her. It'll be frankly, quite awkward, if you did.
"But then what?"
“He called me ‘Mother’.”
She appeared stunned by this. You continued, “I told him I wasn’t his mother, obviously, but that I’d have someone go get you so you may take care of him. Then he said...He said not to bother. He said that his mother didn’t love him anyways, and that wouldn’t care what happened to him anyways.”
It was quite sad. You’d stood there in your bed chamber, preparing for a night’s sleep, when your door opened. You thought it’d be your handmaiden with tea or one of your household, but no. It’d been the young prince who came sauntering into your chambers. Knowing his reputation, a pang of shock did hit you for a moment. You’d heard what he does to women and girls in his service, and you worried you might be next. Yet, instead the prince slumped down onto your bed.
‘I can’t find my room in this damnable castle,’ he’d exclaimed. ‘May I stay here, Mother?’
‘My prince, you must leave. Your mother’s chambers are just down the hall-”
‘Ah, she doesn’t care anyways. She’ll just scold me for being drunk, tell me how I’m ruining the family image and reputation by carrying on how I do, and I don’t...I don’t want to hear it tonight.’
You pitied him. Perhaps the boy hoped to escape his princely duties in his cups instead of performing them. You’d seen how he was during Lady Laena’s funeral this morning: bored, indifferent and disinterested. Admittedly, you felt the same, but didn’t show it as blatantly. You’d only been invited because your family is one of the minor bannermen to House Velaryon; your family said it was expected. You hardly knew Lady Laena except in passing at gatherings, but you still paid your condolences and remained respectful. It was unbefitting a prince to get drunk at a gathering of a dead relative and make a fool of himself. It was even more unbefitting for him to be passing out on a lady’s bed in the middle of the night.
‘I’m sure your mother cares deeply, my prince.’
‘I assure you, my lady, she does not. She’s made it clear on many occasions what a disappointment I am to her and my father. The man has had sixteen years to name me heir, and he never has. Why? Because, look at me. I’m...this...’ he gestured idly around, face half buried in your pillow.
You’d gone over to him, making sure to keep your distance the entire time. He smell of strongwine and salty air. He didn’t even remove his cloak from his body when he laid down. You pushed strands of wavy blond hair from his face. It appeared quite unruly compared to the sleek blond locks of the rest of the Targaryen clan.
‘Despite what she might say, your mother still loves you. A mother’s love is something that is unconditional. I’m sure she says those things not to hurt or criticize you, but you try helping you see the error of your ways. She is only helping you so you don’t fail in life; yes, there is the matter of your image and having to uphold your family’s reputation, but those are things that greatly impact a person’s life unfortunately.’
‘It’s all she cares about...because of Them...She’s never once asked me what I desire or care about. Nothing I’ve done has ever been enough for her. It never will be. I’m always doing something wrong in her eyes. No matter what it is.’
You’d spent most of the night listening to the prince’s personal problems; the sort of problems a sober person never says out loud. You weren’t sure what exactly to say other than comforting things. Your heart went out to him. You had your own insecurities and problems, which you felt comfortable airing out to him. Considering how he could barely stand without falling, you allowed him to stay in your room. You helped him out of his cloak and boots, gave him water, and let him lay in your arms. It felt nice having someone to hold, and warm your cold bed. Nothing truly transpired between either of you except long talks about parents, duties, insecurities, and uncertainty of life. He told you about his betrothal to his sister, whom he had nothing in common with and did not want to marry. You told him about the lordling your family has promised you to, who once ate butter thinking it was custard. It never occurred to you that you, an unwed woman, should not let Prince Aegon, an unwed man who is known to take what he pleases, be in your bed.
That is, until the next morning when your maid found Prince Aegon passed out beside you. You’d stammered the story to her, but the damage was done. Aegon shuffled out of your room, clothes and hair still messy, talking about how he’d make her see reason. What he said to her, you’re not sure, but you knew now what claim he’d made.
“He said this to you?” she asked, stunned and saddened.
“I’m afraid so, Your Grace. He did not linger on the subject for long, though. He was drunk. I’m sure it was the strongwine talking.”
You wouldn’t tell her what else he’d said. Those words were between you and Aegon. “My son told me something interesting, Lady Y/N.”
“Your Grace?”
“He bargained for the betrothal,” she said, eyeing you up and down. “He said if I broke off his betrothal to Helaena, he’d stop drinking. He said he’d stop drinking, stop whoring, stop shirking his duties and be what the realm expects him to be. He said he couldn’t see himself being a better man without someone who makes him want to be good in the first place.”
“And what did you say, Your Grace?”
“I told him I’d consider it.” She stepped closer to you, “Tell me, Lady Y/N, if my son marries you, would you help him become his best? Your family is well known for their piety and abstinence. Your parents wouldn’t agree to a match if Aegon continued to be as he is.”
‘To be honest, Your Grace, I hardly knew Aegon before last night. I still do not truly know him, but I can see him.”
“Him?”
“The person inside.”
The boy who wants to be held and told that he’s loved no matter his actions. The boy who drowns his misery with wine.
“I cannot promise to change him overnight, Your Grace. People like your son cannot give up their vices right away, but I will be there for him. I shall be there in his lowest moments to lift him up and hold his hand through the most difficult parts. As his wife, I will perform the duties expected of me and more."
The Queen continued studying you for a moment, then nodded quietly. "The King and I will think on this. You may go now, Lady Y/N."
You bowed to her and let her lady escort you out. Nervousness made you walk on shaky legs despite your best to keep a steady stride. Neither of you did anything wrong. You'd only comforted the prince when he needed it. Had he truly said he'd change if he married you? You doubted that. Boys often say ridiculous things when in the euphoria of infatuation. You're sure Her Grace would see that and deny the marriage. You don't have to worry much.
...But, should she allow it, being queen wouldn't be so bad. Influencing Aegon to change can lead to you influencing him to do other things as well. Such as bending laws to your family's benefit or getting them higher positions in the world. It might not be bad at all.
Perhaps you would give Aegon a special night time visit...
#aegon ii x reader#aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii x yn#aegon ii x you#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#hotd drabbles#hotd angst
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I saw the yandere hcs for lord Oyster and I saw the ending of them comforting and thought it was kinda cute so I'll bite for hcs! I got an idea for a type of reader I don't see often but I find the trope interesting. May I ask for hcs of a yandere clotted cream x poor reader?
Bonus little addition to reader if you want: maybe, to make it by, reader works really hard...day and night...and often neglects themselves, like they skips meals, barely sleeps due to a mixture of work and stress, work themselves to the bone just to make sure they have a roof over their head and food on the table?
Just always curious how yanderes react to a love like that lol! Sorry if this sounds weird! Just stumbled upon the idea of poor reader and thought it was interesting!
YOU DONT UNDERSTAND- I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO THOUGHT THE POOR MC TROUPE WAS INTERESTING.
[disclaimer: I’ve never had such a situation so I’m just going off of other people’s experiences]
Tw: spying through documents..?, Hierarchy misuse(?), Clotted gaslights ppl
• Let’s say MC is like a cook or something for idk any form of public gatherings. They work their arms off trying to quickly get lots of food cooked- that tastes good enough.
• Even if more they have lots of co-workers, they still have to do so much to have enough for so many people. Hell, they’re still cooking to keep making enough while the gatherings go on.
• Clotted Cream found a little defect in his food, maybe a dessert that was a bit undercooked. So he quickly sneaks into the kitchen to tell one of the chefs, just so they could fix the food before anyone makes a commotion. After all, he is a very kind-hearted, empathetic consul isn’t he…?
• He ends up talking to MC, showing the small defect. To his surprise, MC is panicking like crazy, afraid of losing their job. They quickly go out to the foods and take the tray of the desserts with a defection and shove it in the oven. They’re thanking him greatly, bowing a few times.
• Clotted Cream notices their hands look a little wrecked, with a few bandages over their fingers. “…Say, are your hands alright? They look to be in a quite- rough state.”
• MC is surprised at the question, answering that they have to work a lot to get the food out in time.
• Clotted Cream ends up talking to them longer than needed, and he’s- interested to say the least. He wonders what they’re life is like, given he was adopted into a noble household.
• Clotted Cream ends up scouring through official files to scour more information about them…He ends up seeing all the bills MC is paying, it could be literally anything: debt, medical, whatever. He feels an odd sense of pity? Or is it…something more humane?
• He ends up throwing himself into a hole of complete curiosity- and soon obsession. He wants to know more about their life, how they survive their endless hours of work. He works endless as well- but not in the way they do.
• At every public gathering, [where they’re serving food] he’s talking to them more than he is to the guests, always asking questions about their life and how they’re doing.
• At some point, he can’t take it anymore, seeing them suffer to keep their surviving. So one day, MC finds that all the bills they had to pay are just gone. Paid for. It confused them.
• The next day, MC goes over to the bill issuer, questioning things. Which the bill issuer responds, “Oh, a cookie came in and said he was your fiancé so he paid them all for you.”
• MC, absolutely flabbergasted, tries to question the bill issuer, wondering who the cookie was. But the bill issuer didn’t know. Only noticing he had green eyes. He’s in a disguise.
• MC goes back home, confused af. For one thing, they don’t even have a fiancé, and two, they don’t even know who this dude is.
• Meanwhile, Clotted Cream is laying in his bed, giggling like some girl that has a stupid school crush. He couldn’t believe he managed to get away with it! Not that it would matter, he could easily trick people into thinking the two of you were engaged.
• A few days later, when MC comes home from a long day at work, they notice literally ALL of their stuff is packed up. And guess who comes out from the closet with clothes in his hands? That’s right, sir fucking Clotted Cream.
• Before MC can even question him, he pressing a kiss to their cheek and smiling. “I’m just getting everything ready for you to move in with me! Don’t worry darling, this is the last of everything.”
• MC can try everything to question and defy him, but he’s just pulling the “I’m sir Consul, I can ruin your life. Now love me.”
• Poor MC, going from poor to confused and weirded out.
• If MC is compliant, he’s a needy mf, who’s super affectionate behind closed doors. Constantly giving them hugs and compliments.
[Ok- ngl this was self-indulgent. I would say this is my longest post on here lmao]
- Celina
#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#crk#yandere cookie run#cookie run x reader#crk x reader#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere crk#blurbs#DONT LIE WE ALL LIKE CLOTTED#clotted cream cookie#Yandere cookie run kingdom
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tease tidbit tuesday💀
tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @hoodie-buck 💖
hi! so, yesterday I randomly opened the doc with the buddie death cast au - which is a fic I started writing last summer on vacation and never got back to it but then made progress lol
it's gonna be MCD, which i know is not everyone's thing so feel free to ignore this 🤣
it's basically buddie in the universe of the "they both die at the end"/"the first to die at the end" books so it's gonna be sad, sorry lol (I never even read mcd, idk why i'm writing this but this idea just wants to be written i guess haha)
gotta put this weird mood I've been in lately to good use and finally write this 🤣
not sure if I'm happy with this snippet, but it all needs editing, the first two snippets were written on my phone and haven't been edited yet lol
I posted two snippets so far, gonna link them both
snippet 1 | snippet 2
___
“Is all of this clear, Eddie?” she asks in the end.
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” he says shortly. He should've just hung up immediately. Or cancel this stupid subscription after Shannon died. Sometimes he wonders if maybe people who get the calls and coincidentally get into accidents, for example, just give up and refuse to fight because they think it’s their time. Not like Shannon could do much, her injuries were too severe when they got there, but the point stands. Maybe they get more reckless, thinking it doesn’t matter anyway.
There’s a short pause on the line, but then Jane speaks up again, her tone softer, more sympathy seeping through.
“I know it’s not easy to accept, if you’d like some help with that, on out website you can find therapists and grief counselors specializing in-”
“Listen.” Eddie interrupts. He’s spent enough time in therapy. He’s not doing it on his supposedly last day. “I know it’s all bullshit. I don’t care. You said what you had to say, I listened, for whatever reason.” he rolls his eyes. He really should’ve hung up, or not answered at all. “Is this conversation over yet?” he asks and is met with another moment of silence. She’s probably wondering what everyone else always is: why is he even spending money on this if he doesn’t believe. He has an answer ready to go, but that’s not what she asks.
“Can I ask you a question?” she says quieter, whispering, probably not allowed to go too much off-script.
“Sure, why not.” he shrugs. He’s wide awake now, anyway, he’s not in a hurry. Not like he’s dying anytime soon.
“If it was your last day, how would you spend it? You don’t have to answer, just think about it.” she adds quickly, her tone much softer and gentler now. Eddie’s mind immediately supplies a picture of Christopher and Buck, just a casual hang-out, like usual, maybe going to the movies, or the aquarium, or the planetarium, something fun for his kid. And later a gathering with the rest of their family, maybe a barbecue at Bobby and Athena’s, with Maddie and Chim, and Hen and Karen, all their kids, just everyone having fun together. Yeah, that’d be a perfect day. “There’s no harm in spending today just like this, if possible. Just in case.” Jane adds, still whispering. He doesn’t tell her that’s more or less his plan, anyway, for the evening after his 12-hour shift. During which nothing will happen to him, because Death-Cast doesn’t know shit. “Well, lastly, Eddie,” Jane’s voice is back at normal-volume, tone strictly professional but sympathetic, as she recites the end of her script, “on behalf of everyone here at Death-Cast, we’re so sorry to lose you. Live this day to the fullest.”
Eddie hangs up without a word.
___
no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @king-buckley @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @theotherbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @giddyupbuck @diazsdimples @jeeyuns @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks
#tease tidbit tuesday#death cast buddie au#buddie wip#buddie fic#buddie#wikiangela writes#my writing#fic snippet#my wips#angst#buddie angst#mcd#i don't know how yet but eddie will die in this one bc apparently ive been in the mood to break my own heart lmao#i wanted to say maybe i'd share smth happier tomorrow but i don't think i have any happy wips im actively working on rn???#there are happy wips in general but im not really in the mood/inspired for those rn#ran out of happy when i finished the natalia fic i guess lol#who even am i lmao what's with all the angst and sad im usually all about fluff 🤣#(gonna share some more of alive shannon tomorrow!)#btw if you haven't read the books and have questions hmu but also i'll try to make everything clear in the fic lol#but also SO recommend the books they're so good and so sad and I think about them like at least once a week (the prequel wrecked me)
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