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murdockparker · 1 month

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Of the Same Mind

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: A mutual distaste in a certain author—should he even have the grace to be called that—leads to an unexpected meeting.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol, pregnancy, fluff, time skip

A/N: a cute lil request! made me actually read a little Byron myself to get the gist! and it wasn't that terrible I'm so sorry to disappoint

Dull.

Everything was dull. What was supposed to be the social event of the season was shortened due to poor weather—an outdoors event of sorts, it seemed, Benedict really didn’t pay his mother much attention when she explained the whole ordeal. Thus, half of the ton was crammed into Lord Whitehill’s home instead of his luscious grounds, all due to the pouring rain. Most conversation was boring, most of the ladies were whining about the rain, the men whining about their whining wives and daughters.

At least the drinks were good.

“…seriously think that fodder is worth your breath?”

Benedict’s ears perked up, focusing on a conversation that was decidedly not about the current weather. A breath of fresh air.

“I-I did not mean to insult you, miss,” a young gentleman sputtered, his face rosy red. “I only meant to indulge you in poetry of the highest regard—”

“If that was your intention, you would have chosen from a finer list of poets. Byron?” The lady nearly laughed out loud. “Byron is the bottom of the barrel, as it were, so your intention was ill-placed.”

“Byron is a well-regarded poet—”

“By who? Chamber pots?”

Benedict nearly spat out his drink. The action alone brought the attention of the arguing couple to him—both sets of eyes trained on the tall Bridgerton at once. “Oh,” he fake coughed, “it seems the drink went down the wrong way, please, forgive me.”

The man—who Benedict now recognized as Lord Whitehill’s son—scoffed. “Bridgerton. You are well versed in the arts, are you not?”

Benedict nodded. “I dabble.”

“Would you please explain to Miss (Y/L/N) that Byron is a novel poet,” Mr. Whitehill asked, “and that she should be flattered I recited poetry for her, regardless of the poet?”

Miss (Y/L/N). So that was the lady’s name.

“But that would be lying, Whitehill,” Benedict gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “And I am ever a gentleman, raised to never lie, especially to a fine lady such as Miss (Y/L/N).”

She smiled at that.

“You do not agree?”

“Oh I certainly agree with Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict said quickly, setting his glass down. “Byron is a mockery to the art—meaningless words and jaunty titles, why, I tried to read his latest and it put me right to sleep.”

“I fear I had the same reaction,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, turning to Benedict in earnest. “Right before I decided to throw it to the flames.”

They both laughed.

“Imbeciles, the both of you,” Mr. Whitehill said, pushing past the newly acquainted pair. “Keep insulting me like that and I’ll have my father throw the both of you out into the storm.”

“Mr. Whitehill,” Miss (Y/L/N) said softly, her eyes melting into puddles of apology. “I fear we were not insulting you, but rather your taste in poets. I also fear there is a stark difference in that, for if I were to insult you, I’d make a more fitting jab, more educated in that regard.”

The shorter gentleman stormed off, steam nearly pouring from his ears. Benedict laughed.

“I must say, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict leaned down. “You have quite the sharp tongue.”

“I am known to be rather well spoken,” she beamed, standing a little straighter. “Perhaps it is my taste in literature?”

“For that, I believe we are in agreement,” Benedict said, grabbing a fresh glass from the table beside him. “May I offer the lady a beverage?”

“Only if you decide to share whatever’s in that pocket of yours,” she pointed to his chest. Benedict’s ears went pink. “Do not think I did not see you pour an added flavoring into the lemonade—it seems impolite that you would neglect to share.”

“It would be impolite,” Benedict said, carefully pulling his flask out of his coat. “I am surprised you saw that, though, given the crowded room.”

“You are a tall man, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, taking the glass from his hand. Benedict poured a healthy amount of clear liquor into her cup before adding the rest to his own. “I would have found it hard to ignore you.”

“Your first season? I presume?”

“Technically,” she said, looking up into his blue eyes. “My family, we just moved to Mayfair. My father came into some money and relocated us here this year, my brother is set to study at Eton in the fall.”

“And you?”

“I am now expected to marry a rich and eligible bachelor,” she laughed into her glass. “Which I really have no problem doing, save for the fact that gentleman is nothing like Mr. Whitehill.”

“Mr. Whitehill is rather rich,” Benedict smirked. “Would that not placate you?”

“And listen to him dribble about Byron? Perish that thought,” she said. “When I do marry, I expect my husband to be of the same mind, a similar taste in the arts.”

“You know,” Benedict nearly whispered, “that is an admirable thought. But how will you find this man?”

She looked him up and down, quickly and all at once, returning to drink from her glass.

“I suppose I will know when I find him,” she smirked.

Benedict smiled back. “Well, please let me know when you do, I feel rather invested in your prospects.”

“You will be the first to know, I assure you,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, nodding her head. “But, if I may be so bold, if you are not currently preoccupied, would you care to further our discussion on Byron? It is hard to find someone who agrees with such a… contrasting opinion of the poet.”

“Why, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict finished his glass, offering his arm, “I was afraid you’d never ask.”

—

The gardens on the property were lovely, so lush and full of life. She made good on her promise to keep them well maintained, only keeping the finest blooms and plants in their care. It was always the perfect place to spend time on days like today, sunny, a gentle breeze.

They had given the governess a day off, her mother had fallen ill, it was the least the Bridgertons could do for her.

“Mother!”

The lady looked up from her book, eyes meeting with her eldest daughter. Blue eyes, just like her father.

“Yes, darling?”

“Might I go inside to grab other books? Aunt Eloise recently sent some to Father and I want to read them.”

The lady gave her daughter a trying look. “Do you not think they may be above your comprehension level, my love? They were intended for your father, after all.”

“No need,” a looming voice bellowed. “I have them right here.”

She didn’t need to look up to know who it belonged to. “Benedict, I thought you were spending time in the studio this afternoon.”

“And miss spending time with my darling wife and children?” Benedict grinned, the crooked way she fell in love with. “That seems foolish on my part.”

“Father!” Their eldest exclaimed, running over to the tallest Bridgerton. “You brought the books?”

“Indeed,” Benedict nodded, handing the parcel off to his daughter. “Aunt Eloise thought we may have better use of these than her and Phillip do.”

Their daughter lit up with excitement—ever the reader, she was. It took a village to keep their library stocked with appropriate books for her age, but she was quickly out-reading her entire family’s collection. “Thank you, Father!”

“Well,” Benedict said modestly, “you must write to your Aunt Eloise and thank her, I had little to do with such a gift.”

“What about me, papa?”

Their son, only a few years younger than their daughter came bounding up past his escaping sister, clearly having been playing in the mud. “Do I have any gifts from auntie?”

(Y/N) opened her arms. “Not this time, sweetheart, but come here, let mama wipe that dirt off of your nose—”

“No!” He exclaimed, turning from his mother. “Dirt makes me ruggable—like Uncle Colin!”

“Rugged,” Benedict corrected gently. “And, no, dirt makes you dirty. You need to stop spending so much time with Colin…”

“Once baby brother is here I will,” their son nodded, putting both hands on his hips, looking down at his sitting mother.

“Oh darling,” (Y/N) said, trying to raise to her feet. Benedict quickly offered his hands, pulling her up. “Baby will not be here for a few more months.”

“Then more time with Uncle Colin!”

Benedict and (Y/N) sighed, watching their adventurous son run back to the mud. “We must write Colin, tell him of the monster he has created.”

“Our eldest is such an easygoing flower,” Benedict said, noting how she was carefully skimming through the various books on her lap. “Our son tests our patience.”

“And how do you think this one will be?” (Y/N) asked, placing his hand on her swelling stomach. She only had two or so more months until the delivery, if she had been correct on the conception. The latest Bridgerton wedding seemed to be the culprit, stolen kisses and a romantic rendezvous to the greenhouse away from the party—it was a perfect recipe for baby number three. “Calm and collected? Devilish and adventurous?”

“I pray they are just like their mother,” Benedict rubbed her belly affectionately. “And perhaps a bit more behaved than their brother… I suppose I should also write my mother an apology.”

“Whatever for?”

“I reckon my brothers and I acted much like our son,” Benedict said sheepishly. “Acting like Bridgerton boys, I am afraid.”

“As if that is the only explanation,” she giggled, leaning into his side. “But I am sure your mother would appreciate such a gesture. Perhaps you should send her a bouquet from our garden, too?”

“An excellent idea, my love,” Benedict said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “What a brilliant mind you have.”

“Father, Mother!” Their daughter called out, waving them towards her. “Aunt Eloise sent a book by an author I have never heard of before.”

“Oh?” Benedict quirked his brow, walking with his wife over to her. “And what author may that be?”

“A Lord Byron,” she said, showing the book with a deep brown cover to her parents. Benedict scooped the tome quickly from his daughter’s grasp, holding it close to his chest.

“And you shall never read such filth,” Benedict said seriously.

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) laughed. “Perhaps we should allow our daughter to expand her mind—come to her own conclusions on the matter? Surely Aunt Eloise meant the gift in kind.”

“Aunt Eloise clearly meant to send it as a cruel prank,” Benedict corrected.

“What is so wrong with that author, Father?”

“A shorter conversation would be what is not wrong with this author,” Benedict said, turning to call his son. The little boy ran over to his father’s side, ever eager. “Take this and bury it, preferably far away from here.” His wife could not stop her laughter, watching their son hurriedly run over to the new rose bushes, making good work at digging a deep enough hole for the book. “You,” Benedict pointed at the girl, “are forbidden to read anything written by that lowly man.”

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) admonished, trying hard to stop her laughter, “forbidding her from reading seems silly—”

“Are we not of the same mind on Byron?” Benedict asked. “I rather think that is how we met, is it not, dearest wife?”

She pursed her lips, fighting a smile. “We are.”

“Besides,” Benedict stood a little straighter, “the roses could use a bit more sustenance.”

She could only roll her eyes.

#Bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x Reader #Benedict Bridgerton #Bridgerton x Reader #bridgerton imagines #if this title has been used before i apologize!#still not sure if I'm digging the whole... photo thing with the post #but it's cute no?

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librarycards · 5 months

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hello! i apologize in advance this is probably something that you get asked a lot. but do you have any recs on literary magazines to submit to? im a trans poet, ive been writing for over a decade but never shared anything and ive been wanting to try to send my stuff to get it published somewhere. obv ive been google searching but theres so many big and small publications and i was wondering if you have ones you like especially and/or tips on how to choose a magazine/journal to submit to. thanks a lot! <3

no worries, thank you for reaching out!! i've been publishing for like 8 years + an editor for almost 4, so i always appreciate the opportunity to help people new to the world find ethical publications that will treat their work with the care it deserves.

first and foremost: there are going to be pubs out there that are awesome and i don't know about. you may be the one to discover them for yourself! one aid in finding the best mag for your work is the wonderful, writer-created chillsubs. it's a fantastic platform that keeps a huge list of mags and presses and their relevant stats, and lets you create an account and bookmark those you're interested in. everyone i know uses them, and it's very worth it given the sheer volume of mags out there.

i also have some recs of my own, ofc. i'm going to list them below. if they pay (which i prioritize) I'll mark them with a $. some are trans/queer focused and some aren't, but all are pubs i've either edited and/or published with and can confirm their ethics + respect for writers.

manywor(l)ds - my mag! i'm co-founder and eic. break genre _ shapeshift with us. ($)

Sinister Wisdom - old, well-regarded lesbian+ lit mag, now open to everyone who is/loves a dyke. I'm guest-editing an issue on Madness with them, now open for submissions!

fifth wheel press - run by a beloved friend and comrade of mine. i've published here. excellent transparency, care, great for first-timers. ($).

kith books - headed by trans literary icon kat blair. a mag/press/community centered around bodymind non-conformity and noncompliance.

Honey Literary - QTPOC-centered, unabashedly pop-culture + social justice oriented. the vibes are simply immaculate.

Whale Road Review - not queer/trans focused, more oriented toward....'grown up' poetry/prose/pedagogy papers. Katie Manning (eic) is a fucking gem.

Graphic Violence Lit - just had my first experience publishing with them, and their care + consideration for the whole writer is amazing. they publish boundary-pushing work.

beestung - one of the brainchildren of Sarah Clark. nb/gq/2s SFF. I just edited a few guest issues w them and have published with them. amazing work. ($)

A Velvet Giant - genrequeer work. the editors are experienced, enthusiastic, and amazing at promoting writers long after publication. it's a family! ($)

Ethel Zine + Press - handmade with love by Sara Lefsyk (as you can see, trans/nonbinary/2s sarahs dominate indie publishing, as well we should :3). Sara is a sensitive and care-full editor and bookmaker whose every publication is a work of art.

Protean - pro- as in proletariat. awesome left mag with a mix of politics and culture and everything in between. they take reprints! ($)

Mudroom - publish your work along with a picture of your mudroom/shoe rack. very responsive editors who will hype you tf up. ($)

The Institutionalized Review - for psych survivors. the editors concreteness of vision and dedication to their community know no bounds.

Just Femme + Dandy - queer and fashion-focused! led by the inimitable Addie Tsai. They pay *handsomely*. ($)

In addition, there are also some "big" mags I have had excellent experiences publishing with and wanted to shout out. These are harder for a beginner to break into, but worth keeping on your radar + have been fantastic to me as a writer.

Electric Lit

Split Lip Magazine

The Offing

Nat. Brut

Santa Fe Writers' Project

Bodega

New Orleans Review

Augur Magazine

I hope this is helpful to you + others! the literary world is ever-changing and this is just a snapshot. Hopefully you find some that you like!

#ask #anonymous #writing #literary magazines #lit mag #call for submissions

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grapejuicestyless · 11 months

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Unforgettable

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n Y/l/n is a classic rockstar with a magnetic pull and a bad reputation with men to her name. Turns out Y/n might not be such a bad girl after all and the men she used might have not been the truth.

Pages bursted from every seam of her notebook, littered in scribbled lyrics of failed beginnings, one night stands and the most innocent poetry writings that reflected the opposite of the devilish woman behind the pencil marks.

Everything about her was shiny. Her glittery deep purplish blue eyeshadow and the highlight on the tip of her nose to the glistening sweat that dripped underneath her top.

She was messy, yet so detailed. Every hair out of place seemed to fit perfectly a top her head. The lazy smear of lipgloss and eyeshadow applied carelessly yet laying in such way that it almost looked intentional.

It was that careless attitude that was so magnetic about her. The rockstar exterior she possessed attracting the innocent into her wild web of her craft.

But, despite her rockstar complexion and her love life reputation, the girl had an undeniable talent that could not be ruined by the poor press that swirled her name.

So it could only be fitting to place the most standout woman there into the cleanest band reputation wise. It was humorous, when it was announced. Y/n Y/l/n, joining Harry Styles for his long awaited Love On Tour.

Harry, who had hand picked her from the bunch of bassists waiting to wow him, was immediately aware of her presence. Her look sharp and eye catching, but her talent even better. She had a skill for her craft that nobody else was even able to come close to achieving. It was almost destiny she had shown up, notebook stuffed full of sloppy writing and bass scratched from her frustration.

Truthfully, Y/n hadn’t really longed to be placed into the band. She didn’t exactly enjoy the bright pinks and pop music that blasted through the speakers. She had only gone to the audition because she had been itching to play. Having traveled the world with some of the biggest inspirations, and by herself on a successful world tour a couple years ago, Y/n found herself bored in her home for so long. She was just about ready to go out a preform to a room filled with angry elderly people who hated all loud noises. Anything to give her the thrill of being in front of the crowd again.

So, when she was emailed one August evening, detailing of an audition for a bassist to join a well known artist on stage, she pushed aside her unfamiliarity with the genre.

It wasn’t that Y/n disliked pop music, it just wasn’t her favorite. She’s spent most of her time closer to a soft rock sound, pulling from past inspirations and old sounds that could be reworked into her work. The glitz and glam of the fresh and new sounding pop music was only something she hadn’t really gotten into, explaining why she felt more nervous than glad she was selected.

Yet, her ability to adjust and charm her way through her lack of experience within the genre was enough to keep her going, placing her where she was now. Standing next Harry, under the intense lights of Madison Square in the middle of one of the hottest summers to date.

…

A year had passed, just about, since Y/n first stepped onto the stage, her bass slung around her neck with a tattered strap that was practically molded to her shoulders. She gave a good amount to the band, adding in bass lines that ascended the songs into a better form of themselves. Making sure not to overpower the other instruments, but to lift them up and amplify how they sounded collectively as a band.

“That was good, that sounded great actually!” I turned back, the side of my lip pressed into the surface of the microphone. My hands found their way around the cord, untangling it to gain some more movement around the stage.

“Why don’t we recollect, get some water and stretch out?” I shot a thumbs up to the sound guy, who had been playing around with some switches behind a small barricade farther back in the arena. After the go ahead was given, the lights dimmed to a soft glow on top of the stage and the heat seemed less intense.

“No way, that’s so cool! Where did you find that, I’ve been having so much trouble looking for a new bass recently.” Her voice was slightly raspy, deeper too, I noticed from the dryness that I assumed was itching at her throat.

I watched her toss her head back, lips wrapped around the plastic water bottle until it crinkled beneath her hands and was left with nothing more than a few stray drops of water pooling at the bottom.

Elin, who she had been conversing with enthusiastically, seemed to match her energy precisely, showing Y/n the same amount of excitement over the new piece of equipment. Eyes gleaming with interest and passion over the topic. It felt warming knowing that work felt less like an obligation but instead was a privilege.

A close knit family that brought a dopey smile to my face at only the thought of it. I listened to them and there insane energy inconspicuously, eyes avoidant of the women and instead settled on the ledge between Sarah’s drums and where the trumpet players would stand later that night where the nearest supply of water was.

From afar, underneath the sound in my head of my aggressive swallowing of water, it sounded like the pair were dispersing. The conversation ended with a faint laugh that dwindled out the longer the conversation ended.

It was a true laugh, sincere. Almost a belly laugh but just not quite there yet. The sound so familiar it was instantly pinned in my mind as Y/n’s.

The common misconception about Y/n was that she was shallow, unfeeling and unknowing of basic relationships and proper manners. The media had poorly labeled the innocent woman, her lyrics thought to be too provocative and explicit. Too in depth and detailed that gossip accounts were ready to start this false narrative about the most undeserving person of the hate.

Maybe it was her careless expressions after completing a hard bass line, or her rockstar style that made her such an easy target for the untrue opinions and thoughts. She had that old grungy thing about her that both made her desirable and criticized, yet she made it work.

Y/n was the sun, in my eyes. A bright, young woman with wisdom beyond her years and heart so full it was overflowing with empathy and sympathy. Her lyrics reflected her past experiences, like any other artist. Her failed relationships that left her in the darkness and her distantly timed hook ups to fill the cold loneliness beside her bed.

Truthfully, she was more like the rest of the industry than any gossiper could comprehend. Her writing abilities expressed so freely, so vulnerable that it caused that discomfort, that pit in the listeners stomach forming with each song she put on her albums. The real truth was that she wasn’t some shallow, sex driven girl who dated guys to write about how they did her wrong. She was a loving woman who loved everyone more than life and was overly naive. She dated trying to find someone who could understand her like she understood everyone else. She spoke what was on her mind completely true and unfiltered constantly. Not fearful of the backlash her opinions would bring. That’s what continues to draw me to her throughout our time together.

“Hey, Harry.” Her voice was sweet, laced with honey and dripping in sweetness. I barely noticed her touch on my shoulder until I looked down at her guitar string scarred hands and found myself smiling.

“What’s up, Angel? What’s going on?” I turned my back to her, head thrown over my shoulder to look back to her face while my hands worked on screwing on the cover to my water bottle.

“You know, the usual. Just wanted to tell you I thought that note change during Sign of the Times was beautiful. You should go for those higher notes more often, you hit them every time.” She was completely honest in her opinions, which is why I held her words dear to my heart.

Y/n had no issue telling me what she thought. She was rather quick to give pointers of what worked better and how to substitute those notes that were strained and uncomfortable. Yet, she did it with such a down to earth point of view. She remained humble, even if everyone here knew she had talents beyond all of ours. She acted like she was just as good as the rest of us, like we were equals.

“I know, it’s just hard with so many people around. Don’t want to fall flat and ruin it.” Shrugging, we walked together to the stairs at the edge of the stage.

“Don’t psych yourself out, Styles. You nail those notes all the time. Your range is unbelievably complex. You have that ability to hit the higher notes every time.” She placed her hand in mine, following me down the stairs cautiously as the last one was always less steep than the rest, causing mishaps occasionally.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” We nodded at each other, silently understanding that the conversation was ending but still taking each other in. It almost felt like something was pulling us closer, eyes growing heavier and smiles getting looser. Breathing sharper.

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” It was breathy, the way it came out of her mouth. Almost like it was something she hadn’t wanted to say but forced herself to.

I nodded, watching her eyes crinkle before she turned away briskly, quick to find her escape through the illuminated tunnel. For a moment I felt like a fly in a web that was her creation, stuck in place to just stare as she left.

…

The show was unworldly. An atmosphere so intense and the energy so insane the floor swayed beneath my feet. The shows were structured the same each night, yet each one felt like a completely new experience. It was how the fans danced together in a formation that they’d created during Treat People With Kindness and how they’d share different experiences drawn out on their cardboard signs. It was surreal, something I felt lucky enough to experience with some of my closest friends, my band.

It went by smoothly, as projected to. The lights and the transitions between each songs igniting an excitement beyond no other I had ever experienced. Sarah played the drums precisely, hitting every beat necessary as her husband, Mitch, created the familiar tunes that were the songs of the past few albums. Within in the music, Y/n stood perched just next to Pauli, continuing to support Mitch and Elin within her bass playing.

By the time Kiwi had reached its end, I caught myself looking back to catch a glance at Y/n. Telling myself it was only to get a short moment to observe her living in her passion. Really, deep down I knew it was something more, something that had always been there yet I hadn’t had the courage to admit until that out loud.

…

The dressing room was quiet, after the show. The post show blues, as I used to refer to it as. The ultimate high coming back down with the realization that it was all over.

I let myself peel the sweaty chevron shirt off of my body and kicking off my green Gucci shoes. I left on the mismatched bottoms while ruffling through the pile of clothes packed in my suitcase for a shirt and shorts.

“Hey, rockstar. Trying a new look?” My head raised, turning halfway to meet her eyes.

“Yeah, really going for that oiled up 2000’s boy next door idea.” We laughed, eyes closing at how stupid I must’ve looked to her. Finding it funny and slightly embarrassing as the rose tint spread like wildfire across my cheeks.

Soon, our laughs turned into silence, warm smiles reflecting off of our faces onto the others. It was comfortable, lip caught between her teeth and mine pulling at the skin of my bottom one.

“I heard what you did tonight. Proud of you. I told you, you could hit that note change. Honestly, sounded better out there than at soundcheck.” My heart fluttered.

“I could say the same about you. It’s like you gain more power with each show.”

“Stop it, you just might make me blush.” She stepped closer, merely a few inches left separating the two of us. Her breath tickling my skin, her hands clenched by her sides nervously.

Suddenly, she had lost all that confidence that told the world she could play anyone like a fiddle. Suddenly she lost that fog around the mirror that created the illusion of a rockstar super player who moved from one man to the next, without rhyme or reason. She became what we’d all learned of her. The girl who loved long and hard on the people close to her, and the girl who despite was she was destined by the media to have been, had only had a couple relationships past the one night stands that filled her notebook. She batted her eyes, and I held my breath.

“Y/n…” It was a whisper. A soft murmur beneath my breath, but I was sure she’d heard it.

I found myself slowly reaching for her hand, opening it on top of my palm and brushing my fingers gently over the creases that ran along them before letting it fall back to her side. My eyes lifted from where we touched back to her face. Only to allow myself to find contact again. I let my hand slip around her waist, pulling slowly until our bodies were pressed together. The only thing separating our lips was the small gap we’d placed between them.

“Harry..?” She seemed conflicted, unsure almost. Hesitant.

“Is this okay?” It came out shaky, the nerves reaching a point that could only be cured by her acceptance.

“I…I just…” She thought on it, “I don’t want you to believe everything about me. I don’t want to lose you when you realize I’m not who you think I am.” The confession sounded like it was almost painful to admit.

“Oh.” I blinked, “Y/n, angel, no. I would never think that.” Her eyes were avoidant, her body more tense than moments prior.

“Please, look at me.” I let my other hand raise under his chin, pointer finger hooking underneath her chin to raise her gaze to mine, “To me, you are everything. You understand me. You see things that nobody else sees. Y/n, you bring out the best in me. I would have never had the courage to push myself and change that note tonight if you hadn’t pushed me to do it. You have this honesty that makes everyone value your words and you have this power over me that continues to draw me to you. I can not explain it, but believe me when I say you are all I want.” Her eyes fogged with what I believed to be her taking in my sudden confession. Yet, with her realization at what I had just said, she still remained silent and I felt the instant regret growing harder in my heart.

I had been through enough rejections to build a home. Yet, the thought of her rejecting me hurt more than anything I could’ve put myself through.

“Shit..Im sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ My explanation was no use, her hands on my cheeks and her lipstick smearing across my lips in a red hue as her lips pressed hard into mine in a sudden burst of confidence.

My eyes shut quickly, settling into it, only for it to be taken away quicker than I had longed for. Eyes opened in a lustful haze. Yet it wasn’t sexual, but completely innocent and perfect in every sense.

“I love you.” The words slipped passed my lips before I could stop them. A smile growing in a lovesick fashion across her face as my confession Is held in for so long reached her ears.

“I love you too.” She returned the confession, leaning in again to press her lips harder into mine and a heavenly sigh escaping her throat.

It was passionate and loving in a way that I’d never experienced before. The shared feelings were strong, new, vulnerable. A new beginning that both of us secretly longed for.

How funny the public would find it if the news ever broke that their precious bad girl rockstar was actually a giant love bug and an angel on earth. How much of a shock it would be to those who tore her down for her fashion choices and her lack of precautions in the public eye.

She might not be who she was made out to be from the exterior, but the one thing the press had gotten right about the devilish woman who broke too many hearts and dished out too many fights she could handle.

She is unforgettable.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst

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winterrrnight · 3 months

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for secret admirer, them going to the strawberry field together for a lil picnic, reading,stealing kisses, napping, eating, talking all giggly and just in love and it being a tradition for them 🥹

I cannot with this. I am so incredibly soft right now it is crazy 🥹🥹 I made it into a little fic because, why not??? I hope you like reading this lovely anon 💓💓 do let me know your thoughts!

les fleurs du mal — a secret admirer blurb

PAIRING: high schooler!soft!rafe cameron x high schooler!fem!reader

SUMMARY: just another day of you and Rafe in the strawberry field which holds a billion memories for you.

WARNINGS: so much soft and fanon rafe, fluff fluff fluff

EDITH SPEAKS: secret admirer!rafe is my forever boyfriend. period. I don’t want anyone else but him.

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You clutch onto Rafe’s hand as he leads you through the rows of low lying strawberry bushes. With one hand grasping on a basket and the other in yours, Rafe makes his way through the small trail which goes up to the tree.

As you reach the clearing, Rafe gives you a small smile as he sets the basket down, pulling out a blanket for you. The red and white plaid contrasts the lush green of the grass as the blanket settles on the ground. You both sit down, and you peek into the basket.

“What all do you have in there?” You ask, not really being able to make out what the basket contains.

“Oh it’s just…” he says, starting to pull out small boxes, “some stuff I made for you,” he smiles. He opens them one by one, and you see small delicacies in each one of them. You gasp as he nudges a box closer to you. It contains cookies; two cookies sandwiched together with a layer of strawberry jam in between them.

“Whoa…” you say with utter awe as you take a cookie in your hand and taste it. The buttery flakiness of the cookie and the sweetness of the jam fills your mouth, creating a complete symphony. “That’s so good,” you say with your voice muffled.

Rafe chuckles softly at you as he eats one of the cookies too. “It is huh?” He smiles at you, his own voice slightly muffled as he chews on the cookie. A comfortable silence falls over you two as you hear the soft rustle of the leaves from the breeze, the birds chirping in the distance, and your own rhythmic breathing.

“Oh I forgot I got you something,” you say, getting your bag. Rafe looks at you a little confused as he sees you rummaging through your back, but his eyes light up when you pull out a book.

“Les Fleurs du mal,” he whispers as he takes the book from your hand. “Oh my god…” His eyes are wide as he holds the book in his hands and looks at it as if it’s sacred. Les Fleurs du mal is a book of French poetry by the great Charles Baudelaire. Rafe has always told you how much he wants the book, wanting to explore more about French poetry, but he totally didn’t expect you to just give him a copy of it.

“You’re giving me… wow I-” he says, stumbling over his own words as he tries to find words to express his gratitude.

“It was a little struggle to get you a nice copy of it, but I found one,” you say with a smile. “Now you can write me letters with poetry from this book,” you joke.

“Oh you know that,” he says, chuckling softly. “But, wow… thank you mon amour,” he moves closer to you to press multiple kisses to your cheek, his hair tickling you softly.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, looking up at him with a pink tint lighting your cheeks. He moves to sit closer to you, bringing his knees closer to his chest as he rests the book against his thighs. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh as you eat more of his cookies and watch him start to flick through the book.

You can hear the birds chirping in the distance as Rafe flicks through the book, sometimes stopping in between to read out a certain poetry or prose from the book; his pronunciations right on spot.

“Mon enfant, ma sœur, songe à la douceur, d'aller là-bas vivre ensemble…” He mumbles softly. You let his words sink in yourself for a moment, your mind working to translate what it means.

“Imagine, ma petite, dear sister mine, how sweet were we to go and take our pleasure leisurely, you and I — to lie, to love, to die, off in that land made to your measure,” You sigh softly, closing your eyes for a moment as you take in a deep breath, the carefully curated words hitting in your mind in a way that seems to wake you – make you more feel more blissful.

Rafe smiles at you, your words bringing a certain pleasure to him. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead, resting his head on top of yours. And that is how the rest of your evening goes; he recites lines to you in french, you tell those back in English, and both of you simply cherish each other’s company. The sun starts to set in the distance, the rays paint you golden with their warmth, and you can’t help but let the little smile keep on pulling your lips, after all, what’s better than having a boy you absolutely adore in a strawberry field, reciting French poetry with, eating little strawberry biscuits with, and kissing? You fail to see anything better than that.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl

(send me any of your secret admirer thoughts and/or your thoughts on drew/rafe/zach! sfw only! <3)

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 3 months

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A/N ::: I'm fucking out of gas and runnin' on E when it comes to my TokRev stuff and I'm super sad. So I watched this today and fell in love with it a little bit more. To my besties out there, I'm sorry 😭😭😭 for tagging you in something you probably don't even CARE about. But thank you if you read this, anyway. Ilygsm <3

C/W ::: NSFW Headcanons. Just MDNI UNDER THE CUT, please.

Asahi Azumane HC’s

SFW

This man is the type you want to bring home to have dinner with your parents and then throw down on your childhood bed after dessert.

His favorite parts of his body are his eyes and his hands. He says he likes them because they help him win games and they helped him win your heart.

He. Is. Sappy. Fairly often.

His favorite parts of your body are your eyes, lips, hands, ass and thighs. He likes to stare into your eyes and look down at your lips before he kisses you. He likes that he can cover a good portion of your thigh with his hands and leave a huge handprint on your ass when he's in the mood to do so.

He used to sleep on his side until you started sleeping over. Now he sleeps on his back so you can cuddle up next to him under his arm and rest your head on his chest.

Has written you secret poetry. Nothing epic, but just like 5-10 lines about how you remind him of the most beautiful and exotic flower.

Secretly hopes you find the stash he has of these papers so he can quit living the lie about how he writes poems for you.

L-o-v-e-s it when you let him lay his head on your lap while you're just sitting around watching a movie or at a picnic on the hillside overlooking the city. He says it relaxes him (but if you do it for too long he gets to feelin' it and then is like - "Hey, *raises his eyebrows a couple of times* ... you wanna uh, go for a ride with me?"

Gets along with moms and dads. Moms can't get over how handsome, charming AND nice he is. Dads are always impressed with his professionalism and drive when it comes to practice, game days and his education.

Your friends like him because he treats you like his own private queen. But like, low-key. He doesn't want you to get all arrogant because that's such a gross character trait. He loves you and he lets you know. And that's good enough for you both.

Doesn't love you unconditionally - which is refreshing. It's an equal partnership and you've both never been in something like that before. You both say it’s your first ‘adult’ relationship with someone else.

NSFW

He's so big that you can actually climb him like a tree (he not only lets you, but encourages it).

Will kiss you so softly and sweetly until he starts to get into it. Then he's a moaning big little mess over/under you - wherever he happens to be at the time.

He likes it when you're on top, though, so he can sorta be face to face with you. He's so damn tall that his head is either banging against the headboard or his feet dangle off the edge of the bed. So if you're on top, then he has all kinds of leisurely positions at his disposal.

His hips are wide and his thighs are too. (But not in a weird way - in a strong fucking hot ass athletic man way)

Likes it when you ride his thighs - doesn't have a preference about which one - is just happy when you're dragging your wet pussy across his muscular leg until you're cumming all over it.

His cock. sigh It's so fucking gorgeous: Cut, 7"L x 2.25"Diameter, goes straight up against his abdomen - has been bigger on occasion, depending on how pent up/turned on he is.

Kisses your neck a lot, whenever, wherever.

Gives you a lot of back hugs when he's horny. He thinks it's funny how his cock presses into your back. Jokes that if you just stood on a stool to do the dishes or cook things, it'd be so much easier to just have you.

Into spanking, but not hurting you. It's more like foreplay for him or in the heat of the moment. He has spanked you harder than at other times, but you never say anything to him about it because you like it and don’t want him to stop.

He likes to fuck you after games. Whether he wins or loses. It's just become a sort of tradition.

Blushes when you suck his dick. He thinks it's so lewd and so sexy that he has trouble looking you in the eye but FUCK HE LOVES HOW YOU LOOK WHEN YOU'RE BETWEEN HIS LEGS so he forces himself to maintain eye contact - not for extended periods of time, but throughout. He found it was easier to break up the intensity rather than face it all at once.

Has a breeding kink but doesn't even know what that is/won't admit it. He. Loves. To. Cum. Inside. Of. You. He says things through loosely gritted teeth, "Ohhh yeah? 'M g'na fill y'r cute li'l hole, angel. G'na be so full from this ... mmhm. Geh ready, cum-cummin'!"

Is shy about saying "cunt" and "pussy". You're working on it w/him.

Has cum before from just eating you out. Was NOT embarrassed about it.

He likes to watch your pussy twitch after he makes you cum on his tongue.

Likes to tease you about your kinks. He's always like, "Ooooh, you're such a ... s-slut - wanna get fucked by your dad, huh? I knew you were a little dirty brat - you like to take it in all your holes, baby girl?"

Is absolutely ruined and humiliated when you say "Asa," you slap your forehead with the palm of your hand, "NO ONE wants to be fucked by their - oh god. It's 'daddy', ok babe? D-A-D-D-Y."

Vows to never tease you about the filthy shit you like so long as you don't remind him how he said that to you one day.

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @kazutora-kurokawa @katkitkats @viburnt

@mackenziebrooks (hope it's ok to tag you in this! i think we talked about it at one point, yeah?)

#asahi azumane #azumane asahi #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #asahi x reader #asahi x you #asahi fluff #asahi azumane fluff #azumane asahi fluff #asahi smut #haikyuu smut

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aphroditelovesu · 11 months

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i was rereading ur yandere greek mythology posts and after reading the concept of the greek gods sharing the part with Artemis and Apollo part caught my eye again,

I'm curious on how that will play out. may I request yandere artemis and apollo sharing a darling? - 🌓 anon

❝ ☀️ — lady l: it took a while but it came out, didn't it? Dear readers, it may take some time, but your requests will be written! This request was based on this ask/concept and I liked how the headcanon turned out and I hope you like it too.

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, dub-con ('cause it's yandere content), jealousy, mention of murder and torture, polyamorous relationship.

❝🏹pairing: yandere!apollo x gn!reader x yandere!artemis.

Apollo and Artemis are twin sibilings who are very different from each other. While Apollo had many lovers, Artemis preferred to live secluded in the forest with only her huntresses for company. Although close, the twins prefer to live their lives separately and this has always worked for both of them. Until they meet you. The gods don't often share their belongings, but the twins seem inclined to divide you between them. How lucky are you to have the attention of Artemis and Apollo, aren't you?

It was Apollo who met you first. You met during the festivities that honored him and he found himself drawn to you, leaning against a wall, silent and disinterestedly observing everyone around him. The god found himself looking at you intently and his gaze made you uncomfortable and you left your spot to leave. Something about that man's gaze made you nervous and you wanted to forget about it. Apollo, however, never forgot you.

When Artemis met you, you were already with Apollo. The god pursued you and basically made you his. The goddess of the hunt didn't think much of you at first, thinking that you would just be one of Apollo's lovers and that you would soon be out of his life. Which is obviously not what happened. As Artemis spent more time with you, the more she found herself enjoying your company and developed an obsession with you of her own. She found herself drawn to you like she had never been drawn to anyone and she wanted you. The fact that you belong to Apollo is not a problem for her.

Apollo didn't react well when he noticed his sister's interest in you. He was irritated, furious and full of jealousy. Why on earth was Artemis interested in you romantically? Of course, you were stunning but this... This was unacceptable, you belonged to Apollo and he wasn't willing to give you up. It didn't take long for him to get into a fight with his sister over you. You were his and he wouldn't let anyone take you from him.

The twin gods actually physically fought over you, pointing their bows and arrows at each other, they were ready to kill each other. They just didn't because you intervened. You tore them apart and tried to appease the angry gods who were looking at you with madness in their eyes. You took a deep breath and tried to work it out by talking to the them. Although he was reluctant, Apollo eventually agreed to share you with Artemis, even if he still didn't like the idea. But it could be worse, he supposed, better he shared his soulmate with his sister than some god he hated. Meanwhile, Artemis was delighted that she now had you, it wasn't just for her, but that could be fixed sometime, for the time being she was content to hold in her arms.

Your relationship was, to say the least, interesting. Both gods loved dragging you with them everywhere. Apollo was the most needy of your attention and the most demanding, he liked it when you lay on his lap and just watched him while he read poetry or sang hymns to you. He loves to run his fingers through all your soft hair, smell your perfume and spend hours kissing your soft lips. He wants as much physical contact as possible, to have your body pressed against his at all times. The hugs always took a long time to end and he could spend hours whispering promises of love to you. His love language is a lot of physical contact and gifts. Apollo is always giving you something, clothes, jewelry, books, whatever you want. He wants to be your favorite.

Artemis is the quietest in your relationship, she has always been more rational than her brother and fears making you uncomfortable with all of this. She used to lead a reclusive life in her forests, and while she greatly enjoyed the company of her hunters, she came to enjoy your company even more. Artemis loves to take you on her hunts, just the two of you alone, the two of you silently admiring the forest around you. She wants to teach you how to hunt, even if it's not something you're a fan of, she is the goddess of the hunt and would be more than happy to teach you. Artemis enjoys your company and often just watches you, looking at you in awe. Your time with her is precious and she is not that demanding of your attention. The goddess likes to pamper you more simply, with simpler gifts, but if you want expensive things, she will be happy to give you, but Artemis likes to present you with things she likes and thinks you will like. Her love language is coy glances that get bolder with touch.

There is no doubt that they are very jealous of each other, because they do, but Artemis hides it better than Apollo. When the three of you are together, the twins appear to be calm, but any discerning person will notice Artemis's clenched hands and Apollo's glare. The two will be throwing furious glares at each other, but will be silenced with a glare from you. They no longer fight, at least not in your presence, but the sibilings will band together when there is a threat to you. Maybe some other god (Zeus) is too interested in you and they can't have that. In the blink of an eye, Apollo will be glued to your hip and Artemis will be shooting hateful glares at anyone who looks at you the wrong way. They might fight, but you belonged to them and they will protect you fiercely.

Eventually the three of you will find an acceptable rhythm. Artemis and Apollo will stop trying to mentally kill each other and their attention and love will be on you at all times. The hugs and touches become a double dose, as Artemis hugs you possessively Apollo will be claiming your lips. You will always be in their midst, being the buffer for this relationship, the only person able to control the temper of the two gods.

Being in a relationship with them isn't the worst fate anyone could imagine. Apollo can be incredibly possessive and overwhelming, but he will learn to share you with his sister. Artemis is the more easy going of the twins, she is not as intense or possessive as her brother, but she is extremely resourceful and has a dangerous temper when provoked. You will learn to love it, to love them. The touches, the kisses, the hugs... It will all be part of a great future that the three of you will share. Trapped for eternity between Apollo and Artemis. This is your future. But don't worry, they'll do their best to make you happy with them, after all, you don't really have a choice.

#yandere greek mythology #greek mythology #yandere greek gods #yandere apollo #yandere apollo x reader #yandere apollo headcanons #yandere artemis #yandere artemis x reader #yandere artemis heacanons #yandere headcanons #🌓 anon #yandere apollo x reader x artemis #yandere artemis x reader x apollo #polyamourous #yandere apollo x reader x yandere artemis #yandere artemis x reader x yandere apollo

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viviennevermillion · 2 years

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Spending the night with them

notes: just some soft evening routine + cuddling before and during sleep headcanons. back on my genshin bullshit.

characters included: diluc, zhongli, pantalone

contains: character x gn!reader

warnings: none

D i l u c

You still cannot get over the fact that he has a butler

Literally asks you every night before going to bed whether you need his butler to bring you anything. He just wants you comfortable and taken care of.

Diluc often comes home late due to work or protecting the city of Mondstadt again.

He always tells you to go to bed before him if you're tired and yet on most days he comes through the door and is soon greeted with you tiredly wrapping your arms around him and resting your head against his chest or shoulder.

Diluc simply holds the back of your head with his hand and presses an appreciative kiss to your forehead. He's also tired and a bit exhausted so he's thankful to being back in the comfort of your embrace.

Let's you brush his hair before going to bed if you want to because he loves the feeling of you occasionally running your fingers through his hair.

May have a butler but every now and then he actually makes you a tea himself and brings it to your nightstand.

For a while you just lean against him while he sits on the bed and tells you about what happened in the tavern on that day. Diluc has both his arms wrapped around you and rests his cheek on your head.

He gives you multiple soft kisses to your lips before turning the lights off and falling asleep whilst holding you not soon after

No matter how he falls asleep, Diluc always sooner or later ends up sleeping on his back with his limbs sprawled out across the bed. Has a large rich people bed and yet still ends up taking all the space so that you either have to lay down on top of him or push him aside

To which he either responds by turning towards you in his sleep and wrapping his arms around you tightly, basically clinging to you, or letting out a grumpy noise and turning away to fall back asleep.

You've woken up more than one time to Dilucs asleep brain thinking your face is an appropriate resting place for his arm

Is super grumpy whenever he wakes up before morning but is instantly awake when you leave your place by his side. Probably his protective instinct.

Sometimes if you're lucky, when you push him aside a little so you have space to lie down, he'll search for your lips with his in the dark to give you a sleepy kiss

Looks absolutely adorable tho. His hair is very messy and he hums quietly in his sleep when you brush his hair out of his face or give him a kiss on the cheek

Lots of "You're laying on my hair" complaints tho

Z h o n g l i

Has been doing the same evening routine for millennia and he will not stop now

Starts at sunset with his 6 hour tea brewing and will not go to bed before the tea is ready and properly enjoyed

Lets you sit on his lap though and holds you close while telling you stories of Liyue's past

He often can't resist just pressing multiple kisses to your cheek and your lips and tell you how much he loves you. How sometimes you make him believe that you're a gift from Celestia and how his heart beats faster whenever he looks at you

Sometimes he'll read poetry to you or a book

Sighs if it's Rex Incognito again

"Haven't we read that at least 9 times by now?", he chuckles but reaches for the book shelf

"Well if people already write a book about my favorite person, what do you expect?", you kiss Zhongli gently and can feel him smiling into the kiss.

"In that case, they should write a book about you as well", he chuckles and nuzzles your neck.

When you've decided to put the book aside, usually Zhongli ends up just cuddling and kissing you for quite a while. He often whispers "I love you" between his kisses and cups your cheek.

He's forgotten that the tea was ready on more occasions than he'd like to admit solely because he was too focused on your affections to keep track of the time

Has a very satisfied smile on his face when you tell him you like his tea

Tells you it was a gift from Childe but you know he just forgot his Mora again when he went out to buy tea

Doesn't sleep much but he also has a lot of patience so he has no problem just holding you in his arms for the entirety of the night

It's those moments in which he'd reminisce about how you met and how much joy you've added to his long life

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?", he whispers when he notices your eyelids flutter open after he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Will run his fingertips along your arm and over your back to help you fall back asleep

His heart skips a beat whenever you snuggle closer to him or give him a kiss when he thinks you're sound asleep. He feels so loved and blessed.

P a n t a l o n e

It's also no rarity for Pantalone to come home from work late or rather continue working at home at his desk, but not before seeking you out to give you your well-deserved affection. Or rather, the affection he'd repeatedly been craving during the day

Just sits down next to you and buries his face in your neck and places kisses on your skin repeatedly. Or he lays down with his head in your lap and looks up to you with a loving smile. He leans into your touch when you run your fingers through his hair or lay your hand onto his cheek

Touch-starved man.

Excuses himself and says that he still has some paperwork to do. "I'll be there for you in a bit", he reassures you and presses a kiss to your temple.

Sometimes you'll sneak up to him and wrap your arms around him from behind, glancing over his shoulder to see what he's doing. Which is definitely something shady and suspicious. Harbinger business.

"What do you have there?", you curiously look at one of the papers and Pantalone turns around.

"Nothing, dear~☆", he gives you his typical business smile and boops your nose. And you're like "The hell is he doing again? 🧐"

If you keep inquiring about it he'll pull you into his lap and starts trailing kisses from your lips down the side of your neck

"You know, this just tells me I should ask more questions", you raise your eyebrows in amusement

"Hmm, don't", Pantalone chuckles and his expression softens, "but I suppose I could put the paperwork aside for now. It's already pretty late..."

He wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer and closes his eyes while resting his head on your shoulder.

Melts internally when you brush the strands of his hair out of his face to press a kiss to his forehead.

Is ready to prepare you a bath with a bunch of super expensive lotions and colorful products that make you inquire about their origin.

"I will not use anything that Dottore made", you warn him and he lets out a laugh, assuring you he bought them from vendors for luxury goods for an ungodly amount of money just to spoil you

After the bath he basically wraps you in a blanket like a burrito and carries you to bed. "But I'm not cold-", you protest and he gives you a teasing smirk. "Then I suppose being in my arms would be too warm for you?"

"Actually I'm freezing", you quickly respond and Pantalone snuggles closer to you.

He's a little spoon. Loves to be held.

Whispers "I love you, my dear", before falling asleep in your arms.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #pantalone x reader #diluc ragnvindr #zhongli #pantalone #morax x reader #pantalone x you #genshin impact pantalone #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact headcanons #zhongli x y/n

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presselle · 1 year

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clenched fists | 03042023

Follow me on IG.

#press l for poetry #press l for IG #original #writing #poetry #poets on tumblr #original poetry #poetsontumblr #spilled ink #spilled feelings #spilled thoughts #poem #words #writers on tumblr #poets of tumblr #poets of ig #poets of instagram

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samimarkart · 10 months

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my first chapbook is out now!! taking format inspiration from scientific specimen labels, i re-examine my memories through a collection of illustrated poems. so excited to be sharing these with more people! please check them out and support myself and the wonderful Bottlecap Press!!

#poetry #illustration #insects #bugs #bottlecap press #poetry collection #queer artist #queer poetry

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garadinervi · 7 months

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Jump Bad. A New Chicago Anthology, Presented by Gwendolyn Brooks, Broadside Press, Detroit, MI, 1971 [University of Delaware Library, University of Delaware, Newark, DE]

Feat.: Sigmonde Wimberly, Carolyn Rodgers, Don L. Lee, Carl Clark, Linyatta (Doris Turner), Mike Cook, James Cunningham, Walter Bradford, Sharon Scott, Peggy Kenner, Ronda Davis, Johari Amini

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lupinmoonlight · 1 year

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Daydreaming

Masterlist AO3

Summary - Daydreaming about Remus Lupin while sitting in his lap class.

Note - I don't know why I am torturing myself like this.

Warnings - implicit mention of choking and bruising, light smut, teacher/student relationship.

He stood at the front of the classroom, his tall figure commanding the attention of everyone in the room. He had a kind face, with gentle features that seemed to hold the weight of the world. His hair was a soft shade of brown, and it fell in waves around his face, giving him an almost ethereal quality.

As he spoke, his voice was soothing, like the soft whisper of a breeze through a field of wildflowers. You were mesmerized by the way he spoke, his words flowing effortlessly from his lips like poetry. It was as though he was sharing secrets with you, secrets that only a select few were privy to.

He had a quiet strength about him, making you feel as though nothing in the world could ever harm you while he was around. You try to push those feelings aside, to tell yourself that you are being ridiculous. But the more you try to deny them, the stronger they become.

It was the way he looked at you, with deep blue eyes that seemed to hold so much emotion. It was the way he would smile at you, a small quirk of his lips that would make your heart skip a beat. It was the way he would lean in close to you when he was explaining something, his voice low and soothing in your ear.

For a moment, you allow yourself to close your eyes, imagining your fingers laced together with his, the warmth of his hand against yours, getting lost in the sensation of his touch, your faces just inches apart.

You can feel the heat emanating from his body, his hand moving to your waist, pulling your body against his. You can feel the weight of his touch, the strength and possessiveness of his grip, the way his fingers dug into your flesh as he pulls you closer. You can feel his lips brushing against your neck as he breathes in your scent.

You can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he were to bite your soft skin, to mark your body, to claim you as his. What it would feel like to have his hands slide under your skirt, to have his fingers move slowly and deliberately, exploring your body with a gentle touch. His hand lingering on your inner thigh before making its way up to your waist, fingers trailing along your curves as his lips moved across your neck.

You picture his hands pushing your legs apart, his body invading your space. You feel your heart racing as his hips are pressing into yours, feeling his hardness poking at your entrance through your panties. You can feel his hand coming up to your mouth, gently pushing his thumb past your lips while another hand comes up to your neck, long fingers wrapped around your throat. You feel your breath quickening, imagining your panties being pushed aside and-

"Miss L/N, are you alright? You seem distracted."

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #professor remus lupin #i am obsessed with him #this may or may not be based on a true story

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missmagooglie · 4 months

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Fuck It Friday

Throwing out another bit of the omegaverse thing I've been working on. Previous snippets here and here.

Buck’s mouth against his neck feels good, too. He tips his head to the side, making room for Buck to press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all along his throat and beneath his jaw. It's close to where his mating mark will go, but Eddie’s pretty sure they aren't at that part yet. And Buck would warn him, probably, before trading gentle lips for sharp teeth. It might not even be so bad, Eddie thinks. Maybe the way Buck keeps touching him will distract him from the pain of being bitten, like pinching his hand so he doesn’t feel the needle when he gets a shot. Then Buck's hand slides down the back of his pants, thick fingers sliding across the swell of his ass just as Buck grinds their hips together and Eddie can feel that his cock isn’t the only one getting stiff. There’s a sudden, nauseating lurch in his stomach as he remembers the other thing Buck is supposed to do to him tonight, and the thought of it makes Eddie flinch. Violently. Buck swears and stumbles backwards as Eddie twists out of his grip, elbowing him hard in the ribs as he does. Eddie's heart is racing as he looks up wide-eyed at the alpha now standing several feet away. He feels his face heat as the old fear that jolted through him subsides, leaving him to feel mortified. “I'm sorry,” Buck gasps, clutching his side where Eddie has probably left a bruise. “Are you ok?” Eddie manages to nod and tries, unsuccessfully, not to tense up as Buck approaches him. “Do you–” Buck asks haltingly as he takes cautious, slow steps to close the gap between them, “–and listen, I want you to be honest, because it’s ok if you don’t, but. Do you actually know what we're supposed to be doing right now?” Eddie presses his lips together tightly and stares harshly at the ground. He's supposed to be submitting. He's supposed to let himself be claimed. Bobby had all but ordered the two of them to get this done, and Eddie can’t even let Buck touch him like he’s supposed to. “What I mean is," Buck continues when Eddie doesn't respond, "did your parents or anyone ever explain to you what’s, er, involved when two people get mated?” Oh, Eddie realizes, semi-hysterically, he thinks I'm a virgin. “Because I can talk you through it, if you need me to,” Buck tells him with wide, beseeching eyes as he so sweetly as he offers to explain the act of sex. Eddie's jaw clenches tightly he tries to think through what he should do.

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@onyxmoonstone @daffi-990 @lover-of-mine @pleasestopdeletingmyaccount @coatedpanda16 @littleblackraincloudofcourse @littlefruitybastard @idealuk @blackberry-l @imabtastic @indiearr @machtaholic @zahlibeth, @ladydorian05 @piratefalls @poetry-protest-pornography @911-on-abc @robinplume @mattsire

This is my first attempt at creating a tag list, so I apologize if I got the etiquette wrong. I more or less just tagged anyone who's shown interest in my snippets in previous posts or I thought might be interested?

#Fic: Never Givin You Up #oops i accidentally fic'd #how do i fanfiction?#evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #buddie #911 abc #911 fic

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