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shotmrmiller · 22 days

Text

Uninvited, Unexpected.

a/n: it's nice until the very end. it hints at baby trapping. one solid sentence that's kinda degrading (i couldn't help myself ok) this was in the works for so long, i did so much research just to use words. english is hard. and ignore the plot holes, for my sake. my sanity.

this is SMUT. 18+mdni please (if im missing anything else, lmk)

ty to my wonderful beta readers @waves-against-a-cliff & @xoxunhinged

wc: 3,1K

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!reader

my contribution to the @glitterypirateduck ghost challenge. idc if i wrote it much earlier lol.

You're awoken by a loud noise. At first, you think you dreamt it. Exploding head syndrome, maybe. You strain your hearing but it's quiet, save for the occasional creak of the house settling, its old bones creaking in the dead of night. Rain gently patters against the windows, blurring the world outside.

A flash of sudden light illuminates the bedroom, casting elongated shadows across the floor, followed by a loud crack that rattles the glass. Thunder. You should've guessed.

The frantic beating of your heart slows to a gentle roll, and your eyes leaden with sleep. The soft pillows beckon, the warm blankets cradle you as you sink back onto the mattress.

Only for you to be snapped back into reality, drowsiness dissipating like a morning mist.

Someone's knocking on your door.

Your heart is in your throat as you quickly peel off the blankets, the chill of the floorboards underneath your bare feet seeping into your bones.

In the bookshelf sits the gun Simon had given you before he had moved out, the rumble of his voice a ghost in your ear. "For protection," he'd murmured, placing the cold metal onto your open palms. "Jus' in case."

Your trembling fingers fumble as you search for it in the dark, flinching as a couple of books spill from the shelf onto the floor, pages rustling in your urgency.

The knocking persists.

The metal of the grip is unyielding in your clammy hands. You've never tested it before, never had the displeasure. As you hold it close to your chest with a quivering breath, you hope tonight won't change that.

Simon's instructions echo in your mind as you approach the front door. "Thumb the safety. Hold the grip with both hands. Do not, under any circumstance, put your finger on the trigger unless you're plannin' on sendin' hate. Clear?"

Your throat tightens, a phantom snake coiling around the narrow passage, and panic grips your heart as you reach for the blinds, slowly hooking two fingers and carefully pulling down to look at who is—

Simon.

Simon?

Sweat-slick fingers flip the light switch before quickly undoing the locks, the hinges groaning in protest as the door opens.

"What the hell?"

It's Simon, disheveled— maskless— swaying on his feet. His eyes are half-closed and unfocused. Johnny's holding him up by the arm, struggling to keep him upright.

"S'ry, bonnie. We wen' out fer a few 'nd clearly, he's out 'is face. Quite crabbit, too. He said ye'd let 'em sleep 'ere," he slurs.

Simon's not the only one who's pissed. With a resigned sigh, you gesture at the couch with your free hand. "There, I guess."

That he thought of you even in his drunken haze tugs at your fragile heartstrings.

Johnny guides him to the catch, a quiet C'mon LT to spur him forward. Heavy boots thud against the floor as they stumble toward the living room while you carefully place the gun on the kitchen countertop before reaching for a water bottle in the pantry. Johnny snickers under his breath as Simon collapses onto the sofa, the springs protesting his weight.

Two bottles, then.

You watch Simon's head loll as you hand Johnny the water. "Tell me you aren't the one driving, Johnny," you grumble.

He takes it with a quiet thanks. "Naw. Cap'n's stone cold sober."

Small mercies.

Johnny gives Simon a rough slap to the side of his leg as he bids him goodbye, pulling you in for an embrace tight enough that your spine pops before walking out the door.

You let out another sigh as the lock clicked back into place. The tangy, sour scent of stale alcohol mixed with stings at your nose, as does the invasive smell of smoke.

His boots are mud-caked, and you'll be damned if he stains your nice furniture with his mess. "Shoes off." He groans but complies. The laces come undone quickly, and you tug his shoes off with a grunt. "Simon."

His glassy eyes meet yours. "Drink your water." The burning need to chuck it at his head is one you have to vehemently smother into embers. Moron. Only Simon would have the gall to show up unannounced months after the separation. And drunk.

You push the bottle into his chest roughly and make to go back to bed when he encircles his hand around your wrist and the world spins on its axis, suddenly finding yourself beneath him with his face nestled in the crook of your neck.

Simon's breath is hot against your skin, the weight of his body pinning you down so achingly familiar. It stirs up past memories that would have you pressing your thighs together if he wasn't right there, using his broad waist to spread them apart.

"Missed ya, love." A confession. "S'much."

The breath you draw is jagged, his slow-spoken words hanging in the air. You want to push him away, scream at him for stumbling in and disrupting your night, your rest, your carefully crafted peace. But there's a part of you that can't help but soften at the tenderness in his tone.

"Simon," you whisper. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying—" his lips find your fluttering pulse. You find purchase in his shirt, shaky fingers grasping at the hem.

"'M drunk, no' no liar." Your resolve wavers. No, he never had been. Honesty hadn't been the reason for the split. It wasn't the truth he'd spoken but the truths he'd kept to himself. A fortress around his heart, the bridge to its gates raised. Unwilling to share a burden, share a life.

His warm tongue licks a hot stripe up your neck reaching the lobe of your ear where his blunt teeth sink into it. A choked gasp spills from your mouth, spine arching in reflex— your treacherous body remembering his touch, yearning for it.

"Simon—" your words get caught in your throat; snag like fishhooks when he undulates his hips, arousal creeping along your veins like ivy.

"Don't ya miss me, pet?" You've asked him to not call you that because it never fails to stoke the fire in your belly, to sodden your knickers. Before you can chide him on his choice of words, he shifts. One arm, an inked column under the soft light of the living room, holds him up just enough to bring his rugged face into focus. His eyes, like a stormy night's sky, swirl with untamed desire.

You know it's dangerous to play with fire. Touch it and burn, ache, blister. But the passion of this old flame beckons like a siren with sharp teeth. Each drag of his prominent erection against your core only succeeds in pulling you away from the shore of clarity. It's disorienting, insistent.

Relentless.

"My pretty little love," he mumbles. Simon's gaze drags from your glassy eyes to the delicate contours of your collarbone. His fingers trace lines of intimacy onto the swell of your breasts before using the pad of his thumb to swirl the stiffened peak of your nipple. "Say the word 'nd it all stops."

The scent of alcohol clings to him, a bitter reminder of the loss of inhibitions it brings as it warms one's chest. Blurred lines he might not mind, but you do. Lost boundaries. Rejection sits on the tip of your tongue, on the edge of your teeth when he says something that frays the last threads of your resolve.

It comes undone.

"Please. Jus' tonigh'. All I need." His words sound like footsteps in winter mire, slushed, syllables blending together.

You'll just have to kick him out on his arse in the morning.

"Okay," you breathe. Just one night, you tell yourself. He's always been good to you in the bedroom. One last hurrah wouldn't hurt. Maybe it'll allow you to finally close this painful chapter in your life and start anew, with pristine white pages and fresh ink.

Your hands, trembling with nerves and anticipation, cradle his face. The roughness of his stubble in contrast with the softness of your palms is grounding, keeping you from being pulled under your own swirling emotions.

" 'M righ' 'ere, love. You're safe with me, always." He whispers the last words reverently, a vow. Simon's breath mingles with yours as he leans in for a kiss.

The world around you fades, your senses tunneled on the feel of his lips, the taste of him— mildly sweet with a hint of peppermint. He slants his head to deepen the kiss, and the bruising ache in your heart is replaced by another, one that burns brightly and threatens to sweep you away.

The lulling sound of the pouring rain outside is drowned out by the beating of your racing heart.

The bed creaks when Simon perches you on the edge of it, quietly ordering you to take your top off.

"What about my bottoms?" You bite down on the gummy inside of your cheek when he pins you in place with a look— a predator eyeing its prey.

"Those are mine." Resounding. Final. A gavel in a courtroom.

You fling your shirt off, tossing it into some forgotten corner in the room, and cheekily watch Simon undress. It's not methodical like it used to be. No longer a means to an end. Experienced fingers undo the buckle of his belt before he takes it off, the leather material snapping in the air, slicing through the silence.

A quip tumbles out of your mouth faster than you can stop it. "Gonna spank me with that?"

The air around you thickens— or thins, you can't be sure— when his eyes flash to you. He kicks off his jeans, one foot after the other, wobbling as he does. "Tha' wha' you want?" The words he didn't say ring out loud and clear.

Don't rattle the cage, sweetheart. This dog isn't muzzled.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from saying anything else, something that he might take you up on, instead focusing on the way his heavy cock hangs in between legs (dangling with each step forward—)

"M'eyes are up 'ere." Your nose scrunches at his joke. Cute.

He lowers himself onto his knees, your legs cradling his face as it hovers over your sex, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your heated skin.

The sleeping shorts you're wearing are ratty and worn. They're thin too, practically translucent from constant use. Which means that he can see that you're not wearing any undergarments underneath.

"Hope you know I can—" Heat licks up the sides of your jaw, pooling in your cheeks as you cut him off with a snappy remark.

"Yes. I know."

The tip of his pointed tongue drags along the seam of your shorts, right along your slit. Your breath hitches, and you clench your jaw to keep from making a sound. Your back bows involuntarily, the feeling startling, intense.

"Can see tha' clear as day, as if lookin' through a windowpane, pet," he taunts. The words that are forming, almost ready to spill out, freeze in place when his mouth comes in direct contact with your slippery cunt. He licks once, twice, through your folds, slightly dipping into your slick entrance, only pulling away to nuzzle your pearl with his misaligned nose.

"Sweet as a peach, jus' like I remember," he purrs, the timbre of his voice buzzing against your puffy lips. "Missed this." A mewl slithers past your grit teeth when he gently sinks one thick finger into you, curling and twisting. Arousal drips onto his knuckle, tracing a hot path down to his wrist. He coos at you when he adds another digit, hissing at the sharp but brief pinprick of the stretch.

"Bloody fuckin' tight." Simon rises off the floor, the quiet sound of his knees popping swallowed up by your harsh pants. "Gotta let me in, love. Relax."

He keeps the thrusts shallow, his fingers dragging deliciously along your nerve endings. The sting soon fades, giving way to a gentle warmth that unfurls inside of you, letting Simon reach deeper until—

Your muscles stiffen, tight like a spring when he brushes over the rough patch of skin that has bursts of light appearing across your eyelids.

"Look at ya. Droolin' like a mutt with my fingers stuffed up your pretty cunt."

There's a pressure in your lower belly that's steadily building with each sloppy thrust of his hand, pulling squelching noises from your sodden pussy. He finally, finally, latches onto your neglected clit, lightly sucking on it in tandem with his fingers.

Your chin drops to your chest as everything nears a breaking point. The pressure inside you has your body wound tight. The fibers of your muscles contract, almost painfully, preparing for the release of what's to come, what can't be ignored.

The swirling of his golden tongue pushes against the boundaries of your endurance, pushes you to the precipice, where you finally hit the point of no return. You can feel something about to give, ecstasy trickling through the cracks in your foundation, uncontrollable, raw. Your fingers thread through Simon's hair, curling tightly, pulling it taut when you feel something about to give—oh fuck—

Snap.

The structure that holds everything in place collapses.

A sudden release of pent-up energy and emotion erupts like a dam bursting, a cleansing flood that washes away the grime of old wounds, of bitterness, leaving the edges softened so they can heal; knit closed and scar over. Closure. It touches every part of you, filling you with a sense of liberation.

Your heart beats freely, it throbs with life as a wave of relief washes over you, soothing, a balm over scraped flesh, a rush of cool air into starved lungs.

A lightness that comes after being weighed down with burdens for so long.

Simon's hands encircle your arms firmly— fingers digging into the meat of your biceps— and effortlessly maneuvers you toward the center of the bed as if your lethargic form were a feather caught in a breeze; weightless, insignificant.

Gentle but unyielding.

There's a ringing in your ears that muffles his voice, blurring the edges of his words, an unintelligible hum, as if you were underwater. The sensation leaves you feeling adrift in a tranquil sea, cradled in its silken embrace. The only anchor you have to the muzzy reality is his warm touch.

"'M sorry, sweetheart. I can't," he apologizes, hooking your right leg over his shoulder. You let out a sibilant hiss as he leans forward, pushing your knee to your chest, the corded muscle of your hamstring pulling to its limit. "Can't wait anymore, 'm sorry."

Simon gives you a sloppy kiss as his heaving length prods at your swollen entrance, the tip breaching your pussy with a warm burn that starts from under your navel and only flares, radiating from your core outward. It's searing, the initial bite of the stretch disrupts the haze in your muddled mind, bringing the world around you into cutting clarity.

A guttural noise claws up his throat as Simon sheathes himself halfway, his growled words not the salve he was hoping for. It only grates at already raw nerves, abrasive.

"Jus' a little more, you can take it." He winds a hand downward to draw messy circles on your slippery clit, to stifle the roaring fire in your stomach, your chest. "You already have."

His jerky touch does its job, transforming the sharp burn of him wrenching your walls apart fiber by fiber into a quiet glow; smoldering heat now simmering. You soften, mellow and pliant, accept him into your body as he sinks to the hilt with a quiet groan.

"There's my girl. Takin' all of it like you were made f'me." Simon's words of praise tangle around your spine, electric, prickling. Your heart gallops like a herd of horses, wild and free. "Liked tha' did you? Jus' about strangled my cock with your tight cunt."

He rolls his hips once, twice, searching for signs of discomfort, but when only warm pleasure laps at your heels, when the barest of moans spill from your open lips, Simon begins to put his weight behind his thrusts.

Through half-lidded eyes, you see a raw, primal hunger reflected in his eyes— his soul, the one he'd claimed to have lost long ago, back with his reason, his sanity.

Yet he looks down at you as if you were his only salvation. A lifeline he grabs onto with an unyielding grip, his only tether to hope, purpose. A lighthouse shining in a raging storm, a beacon calling him home.

Simon presses a large hand onto your lower stomach, his work-worn palm pushing until you wince, brows furrowing at the fleeting whisper of pain.

"Can feel myself right here," he sluggishly mumbles, drunk of the feel of your cunt, the taste of your skin on his tongue— sweet like ripened figs. The sensory overload has him sinking his fingers into your flesh until it dimples.

He murmurs something under his taxed breath, something akin to mine, only mine as his lips leave a slick trail of saliva on the dip of your collarbone, the gentle curve of your shoulder, the thin, soft skin of your bicep up to your inner wrist, where he laps at your pulse.

As if savoring the present. The precious gift he's unwrapped, here and now. The last taste of you, which he hopes with a reverence that borders on prayer, lingers on his tongue long after the fruit— the sweet evidence of this one last intimacy— falls from the bough.

Simon comes with his teeth in the crook of your neck, biting down with a crushing pressure that has an acute pain digging its spurs into your consciousness, cutting the blazing euphoria of your own release short.

His cock is still twitching as he fills you with his spend when he takes his thumb and collects some of your slick to take you over the edge one last time.

"F'me. You can take it, yeah? I'll go slow, I promise."

Simon presses a kiss on your sweaty temple, his large hand cupping your jaw as he lazily watches you succumb to sleep, your breath evening out.

He reaches for your arm again, feeling for the birth control implant you'd had there when the both of you were still together.

Gone.

Sweet girl. You'd let him in without a fight. (He makes a mental note to wash the beer off of his clothes tomorrow.)

He knows your cycle better than the lines that are etched onto his palm. Better than the voice of the captain who rumbles in his earpiece, ordering him to go for the throat.

From the moment you'd stepped into his life with eternity in your eyes and the warmth of the sun on your lips, you were his. And he'll do anything to remain in your orbit.

(left unable to distinguish prison from paradise when each poison-coated kiss softens the world he'll build for you and for what's to come.)

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley smut #GhostChallenge

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moonlightazriel · 4 months

Text

When no one hears your calls /// Eris X F!Reader

Summary: When the unbearable feelings of her mate start to mess with her life, Y/N decides to put an ending to their misery.

Warnings: Torture and abuse, Beron being the bastard he is.

Word Count: 3K

Notes: Yeah, i missed writing for my baby Eris. And I'm warning in advance that reader is Azriel's sister and he's mated to Gwyn in this, so please, if you don't stan Gwynriel, scroll past it.

Main Masterlist

She weeped, the feelings flooding her chest too overwhelming to keep controlled. It started with small waves of anxiety, increasing to pure agony, pain erupted through her chest. She tried to keep the tears from spilling, but now she sobbed, broken pleas for it to stop leaving from her parted chapped lips.

“Tell me what’s wrong, let me make it stop.” Azriel begged his sister. Holding her broken frame in between his arms.

“It hurts so much Az, it’s not fair.” She managed to speak in between the sobs that got more hysterical. The shadowsinger just held her tighter, seeing her in such distress broke him, she has always been his greatest weakness.

“Here, take this.” Gwyn offered, her warm hands holding a mug towards the female. “It will help you sleep.” Azriel nodded to his mate, taking the mug from his hands and bringing it to his sister’s lips. He forced the content down her throat, watching as the tea slowly worked, her body relaxed and the tears stopped and she fell asleep against him.

“Thank you.” He said, and Gwyn squeezed his shoulder in a reassuring grip. Azriel grabbed Y/N, taking her to the guest bedroom that Gwyn had set for her, placing her sleeping form carefully on the bed. The red headed female grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the living room again.

“I don’t understand.” He breathed. “She has had these episodes since the High Lord’s meeting, it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe she’s sick?” Gwyn suggested and Azriel shrugged.

“I took her to Madja, and she’s been as healthy as ever. There’s nothing wrong with her besides that.” He looked towards the room, to the shadows guarding his sister as she finally rested. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll find a solution Az, I know that.” Gwyn smiled at him, and he pulled the female for a hug.

“I pray to the Mother that you’re right.” She kissed his temple and he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her love soothe his heart.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Whenever an episode approached, it always had small signs indicating it, the uncomfortable feeling in her chest, the rapid breathing and the dizziness like someone hit her in the head with full strength.

She hated that she worried her family so much, but not every time she was able to control how her body would react to it. It angered her how they would look at her with such pained expressions, how much Azriel wanted to help and she didn’t even knew how to ask for his help.

So everyday, Gwyn would take her to the library and she would search the cause of her troubles, her nose glued to the pages for hours until her vision was blurry and her head was pounding. She never felt such agony, only when her half brothers and her father ripped her wings from her back, making a small cut and pulling it until the skin gave up and she blacked out due to the blood loss.

It was Azriel shadows who helped them, sneaking supplies to their cell until they could get rid of the infection that almost killed her and healed his hands. She was glad for them and her brother, they saved her. She always tried to be as less of a burden as possible to not worry Azriel, but now she knew he was distressed about her situation, so she wanted to fix it, for her and for him.

Shadows gathered in a corner caught her attention, she got up, despite not being able to hear them, they always tended to her and her needs. As she approached the shelf, the shadows disappeared, leaving only a copy of an old dusty book behind. She pulled the book out, blowing the dust off, sneezing a bit in the process. Allergic just like Cassian.

She plopped herself in her seat again, scanning the book cover, no name, no nothing, this sparked her curiosity. She opened the book, in a fancy handwriter she could read “MATING BONDS: The complete guide for the matters of the heart.” She smiled at the title.

Just like her brother, she was sometimes too shy to ask about things. Besides having her past lovers, mating bonds are something she was never that curious about. So she sat there, reading the whole thing with attention. If the shadows thought this book would help, she was sure it would.

“Sometimes, strong feelings can leak through a one sided bond. And the other mate can feel it just as clearly as they would if the bond was shared by both mates.” That passage stuck with her, and she organised the books back on the shelf as she saw Gwyn approaching.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“How do we know if the bond snapped or not?” She blurted at the dinner table, the eyes of the inner circle turning to her.

“Well, it’s different for everyone and you would mostly just know.” Rhys said, looking at the female, the three Illyrians treated her like they were her brothers as well. So, the three have been looking for ways to help their little sister to get rid of those episodes.

“What if the bond had snapped for me and I just didn’t know it was it?” She inquired again and Azriel turned to his sister, his shadows stopping to look at her curiously.

“Do you think you found your mate?” He asked, eyebrow raised, who she thought she was mated to?

“I found this book that said that feelings can leak through the bond.” The couples nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, it’s very common.” Feyre replied.

“That’s the only explanation for what’s happening to me.” They all stopped for a second. “These emotions are not mine, but they’re strong enough for me to feel it.” Suddenly it all made sense.

“I pity your mate then.” Nesta said with sincerity, whoever it was, was going through great pain for her to feel it so intensely.

“Me too.” Feyre agreed. “But as for the bond, you can feel like a tug in your soul, like no one else matters to you anymore besides that person.” The High Lady concluded.

“Do you think you ever felt like this?” Elain asked and the female nodded.

“Yeah, I think I have.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She couldn’t sleep, her mind filled with too many memories to rest. But one in particular caught her attention, and she closed her eyes, focusing on that memory until she could see it clearly.

“I didn’t know the Night Court had such beauties by their side.” His voice purred, and she turned around to see the well dressed autumn male. He had a smirk adorning his lips, his hair slicked back, leaving a clear view of his face.

“The autumn males aren’t that bad either.” She sheepishly replied, eyes glued to his amber eyes. Eris Vanserra was a dangerous male, as her family had alerted her, but what a beautiful disaster he was. Stealing her breath away and making her lose all of her focus.

“If you ever give me the pleasure of your company, I'll show you how bad we can be.” He winked at her, leaving her standing still in the hallway. It was Nesta who found her, looking at nothing, frozen in place as her chest sparkled with life, like she was taking her first breath of fresh air after getting out of her father’s dungeon. As she was finally free.

She kicked the covers away from her body, not caring about her clothing as she winnowed away. It was him, he was what was troubling her so much. She just needed to ask him to stop whatever this was and she would go back to normal. The shadows covered her as she sneaked through the Autumn Manor.

Everything was pitch black, and she just followed the shadows, taking her to the only illuminated room. She pushed the door open, spotting Eris by the bed, looking in a small mirror as he stitched a very ugly wound in his chest. His eye was purple and his lips were bruised.

“Who did this to you?” She breathed, her hands shaking in anger, how could someone do it to another being? She saw how cruel people could be and she dedicated her time to protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves.

“What are you doing here?” He asked startled, dropping the mirror from his hands and wincing in pain. Surprised to see her there, and even more curious to know why she was there.

“I came here to talk to you.” She walked closer to her. “Here, let me help you.” Eris raised an eyebrow towards her, what was happening? She picked the needle from his hands, her warm skin brushing against his, it was a nice feeling. He didn’t say anything as her soft touch rested against his heart, while her other hand worked on closing the wound.

She finished the stitches, reaching for the bowl of water, taking the cloth and with one hand she lifted his chin, eyes locked together for a second. She started to work on the dried blood that smeared across his lips and nose. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch and letting her take care of him.

“What do you want to talk about that was so important that you invaded my room in the middle of the night?” He watched as she got away from him, sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in the corner of his room. She pulled her legs close to her chest.

“I wanted you to stop.” He leaned forward.

“Stop what exactly?” She took a deep breath.

“With your overwhelming feelings, it’s been a fucking trouble to me. But you’re clearly going through something, so if you ever need me, don’t hesitate to reach out.” Eris sneered.

“Why would I ever seek your help?” He watched as she got up, her expression serious as she held the doorknob.

“Because who’s better to help you than your own mate?” And with that she left.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Mate.

She was his mate. Her words got caught in his mind, she had no reason to lie to him. But he also had no reasons to believe her, he just did. He chose to believe that the female who came to him in the middle of the night and showed him more kindness than his own flesh and blood was telling the truth.

So when another round of torture was over, he winnowed to her house, he had memorized the address she had sent to him. He could barely hold himself together, so he almost collapsed on top of her as she opened the door. She looked like she had been crying as he managed to take a look at her face, and he wondered if it was his emotions that led to that.

“I didn’t know where else to come, and I didn't want to be alone.” She didn’t laugh nor mocked him, she just nodded and left the room. He could hear her, moving around in a hidden room, he wondered if she regretted offering him shelter.

All the doubts died down in his throat when she came back, leaning to help him stand, guiding the way towards a bathroom. She sat him in her toilet and helped him out of his clothes. He sank in the water, trying to ignore the fact that he had to be naked in front of her, she looked like she was trying her best to ignore it as well.

“I put some numbing herbs, to help with the pain.” He nodded, feeling very thankful for her kindness. “And I have some of Azriel’s clothes here if you don’t mind. Yours are very dirty and could infect your wounds.”

“I would like that, thank you.” She nodded, getting out of the room and only appearing again to drop the clothes. Eris sighed, feeling his body relax and his wounds starting to close. As the water got cold, he got out. He felt weird wearing the Shadowsinger’s clothes but nothing about this situation was usual for him.

“I figured you’re probably hungry.” She placed a plate in front of him, no one had ever taken that much care of him before. “I didn’t cook it, Feyre told me it's a way of accepting the bond.” She smiled and he could swear that all the pain and sadness was lifted from his chest with that bright smile directed to him.

“Yeah, we don’t want you accepting this bond by accident.” Why would she want to accept a life tied to him?

“Yeah, we have to get to know each other first.” She giggled, taking a bite of her own food. “You don’t even know my favourite colour!” Eris laughed, feeling the sound reverberate through his chest, how long it was since he truly laughed with someone?

“Do you plan on accepting?” He asked, testing the waters.

“To be honest, I think about it, but as I said. First we get to know each other, we think about the bond later.” Eris nodded.

“Does your family know?” He dared to ask, assuming that they didn’t, or else Azriel would have already threatened him.

“They do!” He looked at her in shock. “They weren’t happy at first, but they respect my choice.”

“Did you tell them?” He gestured towards himself and her smile faded.

“Your secret is safe with me, it’s not my story to tell.” He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Thank you, for everything.” She smiled again.

“Nothing to thank me for.” He grabbed her hand, rubbing circles with his thumb.

“I have everything to thank you for, you just don’t know it.” They finished the meal and she got up to do the dishes, he quickly pushed her away. “It’s the least I can do.” She nodded.

“I’ll get the guest room ready for you then.” That night Eris slept like he hadn't slept in ages, soaking in the comfort of her home and her affection.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Her fingers started to shake, and that wave of anxiety came, as overwhelming as ever, it has been a whole month that she didn’t feel it, but Eris still came up to her beaten every week, she knew he was holding back his pain for her. But today, it was just as unbearable as it was when he didn’t know about it.

She gritted her teeth, clenching her fists under the table. The dinner went nicely, everyone engaged in conversations and smiling. She couldn’t ruin it, not again. But it was too late, as tears started to stream down her face.

“Are you okay?” Gwyn asked. Concern lacing her delicate features. Y/N shook her head, a scream ripping past her lips and scaring the whole family, Azriel was by her side in a second, tending to her.

“What’s wrong?” It wasn’t pain that filled her veins tonight, it was anger. The house shook with her power. She screamed in rage, if she didn’t act now, he was going to get killed. She grabbed the truth teller away from her brother.

“This ends tonight.” She announced before she winnowed away. The pain guided her, towards mouldy walls and putrid floors, the smell of blood making the air rancid.

He groaned, the pointy blade opening his flesh as it was dragged across his skin. He tried to hold back his pain but it was too much tonight, the ash in the weapon making everything more painful. He tried to hang on for her, for the life he wanted to have with her, for everything they haven’t lived yet. But it was too painful to keep going.

The cell door was forced open, with unruly hair, wet and red cheeks, holding a blade in her hands, his guardian angel came. The blade being pushed into Beron’s neck, blood splattering against her face. She pushed the blade to the side, Beron’s head being detached from his neck, his lifeless body collapsing to the floor.

“Hey! Open your eyes.” She demanded, kneeling in front of him, cradling his face in between her hands, and in that moment, the bond in his chest sang with life, welcoming her unmistakable love for him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The first thing he saw was the black curtains of her guest room. And the looming presence of the Shadowsinger himself, watching him intently. His body didn’t hurt anymore, all that was left was the warming feeling of the bond alongside his soul.

“Where is she?” He asked, sitting straight up in bed, his muscles felt tingly from being in the same position for long.

“She’s out in town, getting some things.” Azriel sat in the chair facing the bed. “How are you feeling, Eris?” True concern filled his voice.

“I’m fine, she saved me.” He could never forget this.

“Use this gift she gave you to make her the happiest female alive.” Azriel said, and Eris knew this was the closest of his blessing he would ever get. “Keep her safe.”

“With my life.” The male promised. A door opened somewhere and her soothing voice filled the room.

“I’m home!” She announced, and it took her a few minutes to go to his room, pushing the door open, she watched him. Blinking the tears before rushing to him, jumping on top of him. He held her, and he felt her lips pressed on his. His heart beated faster, as he retributed her kiss.

“Hey, stop that, that’s gross.” Azriel groaned, and she parted their kiss, laughing to her brother from Eris’s lap.

“You’re no fun.” She complained, showing him his middle finger. He rolled his eyes and left the room. “What do we do now?” She asked, but Eris didn’t want to think about the chaos that awaited for him at home, so he looked her in the eyes, sending all the love he could down the bond and asked.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

#acotar #sarahjmaas #moonlightazriel #night court #velaris #high lord eris #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris x y/n #eris x you #acotar fanfic

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sinkovia · 4 months

Text

Coffee Shop: IV

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee Shop Masterlist

As Simon made his way to the coffee shop, a realization struck him, he hadn't properly thanked you for the bookmarks you made him yesterday. The thought lingered in his mind as he pushed open the door, greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly baked goods and the sight of you waiting behind the counter.

A small smile tugged at his lips as you acknowledged his presence. “How was your walk here?” you asked, gently sliding the cup of tea over, careful not to spill any.

“Bloody cold,”

“Yeah, it’s been getting a lot colder these past few days,” you noted, as he reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the money and handing it to you.

"What’s your favorite type of tea?" you thought to yourself for a moment as you place the money in the register.

"Probably chai tea" Nodding appreciatively, Simon grabbed the large mug off the counter.

“Thanks for the cup, love” Simon offered a small smile as he walked to his table, settling down with the familiar book he had been engrossed in for the past few days.

Throughout his reading, Simon periodically checked the time on his watch, ensuring he caught you a few minutes before your break. Every few pages, his gaze would shift from his wrist to you and back to his book.

As the watch read ten minutes till your break, Simon got up, placed his book on the table, and walked up to you. “Could I get a cup of chai, love?”

“Of course,” you replied with a wide smile. The surprise in your eyes was evident as he ordered something other than his usual, and opting for something you liked, it added an extra layer of warmth to the usual routine.

A few minutes later you approached Simon's table with a calm grace, the mug held delicately in your hands. With a gentle touch, you placed it down in front of him, the rich aroma of chai swirling between you. You met his gaze with a genuine warmth in your eyes.

“It’s yours, love. My treat since I wasn't able to thank you properly for the bookmarks,” his words carried a sincerity that added a layer of sweetness to the moment.

A surprised and appreciative smile spread across your face. “Oh my god, this is so sweet, Simon. Thank you so much.”

Simon felt that familiar sensation, the same feeling he experienced yesterday when he first laid eyes on the drawing you made, capturing his essence with such care and detail.

That indescribable feeling swirled deep within his chest, it was a sensation that transcended mere physical warmth; it made his heart feel lighter. The genuine appreciation in your eyes, and the soft inviting atmosphere you always seemed to carry, it all contributed to this sensation within him.

The warmth became even more pronounced when you spoke his name, the syllables carrying a sense of familiarity. It was as if the universe had conspired to create these small but significant moments that left an indelible mark on his heart. Simon found himself reveling in the genuine and unexpected warmth that had become a defining element of his encounters with you.

"Nothing compared to the bookmarks you made me. You can sit if you’d like,” Simon motioned with his hand, his eyes warm with gratitude. You responded with a smile, beginning to untie your apron.

As you untied the apron strings, Simon couldn't help but admire the way you moved, the fluid grace in your motions. The comforting aroma of chai lingered in the air as you spoke, “Let me grab my book from the back really quick,”

With that, you walked towards the back of the coffee shop. A minute later, you reappeared, holding a book in your hands. The way you speed walked back to the table with a certain lightness in your step made Simon smile. Taking a seat across from him, you softly scooted yourself in. Sipping your tea, you then opened your book, engrossing yourself in the pages.

Simon found himself struggling to focus on his own book. His eyes were inexplicably drawn to the bookmark—the drawing of himself facing up. It held an unexpected charm, and his gaze lingered on it longer than intended. He tried to shift his focus, glancing at you instead, but that only led to another distraction. He found himself watching you, the way you read with evident enjoyment.

In an attempt to divert his attention, Simon shifted his gaze to the title of your book. It became apparent that you were on the last pages, and he couldn't help but wonder about the story that had captured your interest.

"What’s the book about?"

“It’s about zombies, and this man, Joel, is trying to get this girl to this organization since she’s immune to the virus. Apparently Ellie—well, I probably shouldn't say anymore before I spoil another book for you. It’s really good. I could lend it to you if you’d like?”

“You wouldn't mind?”

Simon, despite not having any prior interest in zombie stories, inexplicably found himself agreeing to borrow the book.

“Of course not, I only have a few pages left. I could give it to you once my break is over,” you offered with a warm smile, and Simon found himself nodding in agreement, glancing over to his watch wondering how much time he had left with you.

“Sounds good.”

Returning to your book, an audible gasp escaped you as you read the last pages. Simon's eyes lingered on the cute expressions you made, wondering what had captured your attention. His gaze shifted to the bookmark, and he furrowed his brows, wondering why you drew him in a way he had never seen himself. Deciding to wait until you were done reading, Simon postponed the question.

As you flipped the last page and closed the book, you looked up at Simon, who was already looking at you. You smiled, and he quickly slid over the bookmark, hoping you didn't think he had been staring for too long.

“You really see me this way?” he asked, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.

Your brows furrowed as you looked down at the bookmark, then back up at him. “What do you mean?”

“The drawing looks really warm. You think I’m warm?” You picked up the bookmark, your eyes bouncing over it.

A smile touched your lips, "That's how I see you," you admitted. "A man who comes in every day, orders a cup of black tea, and sits with a book. Initially, I didn't think you'd give off that vibe, but you seem really warm—like a person someone could rely on for anything. Someone that's warm and safe, the kind of person you call after having a bad dream or when you're scared of thunder."

Simon laughed, seemingly flattered with a genuine warmth in his eyes "I didn't think I gave off that vibe."

Of course not, how could he ever think that about himself? He killed people for a living, but he didnt need to think about that right now. Right now he would let himself get lost in the world where he seemed like the type of guy you called to feel safe.

Shaking your head, you reassured him, your gaze holding his "But you do. If someone were to ask me, 'Hey, Y/n, who do you think gives really good hugs?' I would say the man that comes into the coffee shop every day and reads. You're like a big bear, you know? Not that you're big, hairy, or fat or anything, just warm."

His smile grew wider. "No, it's not weird. I like it. Being a bear sounds nice. I’m sure they’ve lived better lives than me."

“Nonsense, bears haven't been blessed with my cup of tea.”

Laughter bubbled up in you, weaving seamlessly into the cozy ambiance of the coffee shop. The warmth in the air seemed to intensify, not just from the comforting scent of coffee beans but also from the genuine connection that had flourished between you.

In a moment of surprising boldness, he looked back at you, his eyes holding a certain vulnerability. "Would you call me if you had a bad dream?" he asked, the question hanging in the air, laden with a mix of curiosity and genuine interest.

The question caught you off guard, a hint of surprise playing on your features. You regarded him for a moment, appreciating the sincerity in his eyes. The warmth between you two seemed to grow.

A smile curved on your lips as you nodded, feeling a sense of comfort in the honesty of the exchange. "Yeah, I think I would."

As Simon looked into your eyes, a mixture of surprise and gratitude reflected in his gaze. He couldn't help but wonder if you experienced bad dreams as frequently as he did. However, a realization hit him – you wouldn't be able to call him even if you wanted to. After all, you didn't have his number.

Lost in thought, Simon grappled with the idea of asking for your number, contemplating whether keeping you at arm's length was the more sensible choice. Of course he only wanted it to talk about books, not that he actually wanted you to have his number in case you needed someone to call after a bad dream. He was at war with himself, denying that the warmth in his chest was anything more than the result of the warm tea he was drinking.

While Simon grappled with his thoughts, you gathered the courage to ask for his number, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The perfect moment hung in the air, a now-or-never opportunity. The words were on the tip of your tongue—“Do you think…”—but his phone interrupted the moment, displaying 'Captain' on the screen.

“Sorry, love, gotta take this,” Simon sighed apologetically, and you nodded, a smile playing on your lips. He excused himself, stepping outside to take the call from Price. As the door closed behind him, you dropped your head into the palms of your hands, realizing that the perfect chance to ask him had quite literally slipped through your fingers.

Simon returned and stood next to you, "Gotta head out early, love," noticing the disappointment etched on your face. You nodded, attempting to conceal your feelings beneath a veil of composure as you handed him your book.

“Let me know what you think about the opening.”

“I will,” he assured, taking the book from you and tucking it under his arm.

“Walk safe,” you added, standing up and heading back to the counter with the cup of tea Simon had bought you. While you tried to remain composed, Simon sensed the disappointment lingering in the air. As he stood in place, Simon contemplated the call with Price—he was deploying tomorrow morning and would be gone for a month.

He turned and looked at you, taking small sips of your tea while you wiped the counter. The question lingered in his mind—should he tell you about his deployment? Would you even care? Doubtful, he thought; you probably couldn't care less.

Walking towards the door, he half-turned back, “Have a good day, love.” You looked up and smiled, “Thanks, Simon. You too.”

That same feeling, the warmth in his chest, lingered as his eyes focused on your smile. He forced himself to turn away, walking out into the cold that felt like a slap to the face as the door closed behind him. Despite a part of him wanting to turn back and stay in the warm embrace of the coffee shop, he knew he had to go home and get his things in order for the deployment tomorrow.

Every time I write for this series I think about Simon in the comics and I want to rip my hair out because he deserves to be happy. HE DESERVES TO BE HAPPY.

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luvyeni · 7 months

Text

MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( chapter 3. )

— CHAPTER THREE: lovestreams …

— 𖦹 warnings? 18+, cursing, masturbation, jeongin is down bad ( this is told in jeongins pov )

previous chapter - next chapter - my shy neighbor masterlist

jeongin genuinely was gonna go to sleep, but han jisung put the thought into his head. “fuck it.” he got up — sitting at his desk, opening his laptop. “oh that’s right.” he grabbed his headphones, sitting back down.

after plugging his headphones in, he typed in his favorite sight, scrolling through the main feed, searching for his favorite cam girl. “shit.” he cursed realizing she wasn’t streaming that night. should he just go to bed then? but he was already hard.

he was about to head to twitter, when he got a popup ad. “hm?” he read the words on the screen. “love streams?” he never heard of it, he shrugged, clicking the ad — what’s the worst that could happen.

he rid himself of his jeans while waiting for the page to load. his eyes widened at the new selection of girls, this sight was much bigger than the previous one, his cock twitched at the all the content.

he scrolled down, palming himself until he came across the top streamers selections. he scrolled over searching for the best one until he stopped at one. “lovergirl?” he clicked the screen, your body coming into frame, the camera off your face — you must want to keep your identity hidden.

“hi everyone!” your voice low and seductive, but also had a sweetness to it — that was what he liked the best.

“did you guys miss me?” you asked, your white robe hanging off your shoulders along with your bra strap. “yes? good i missed you guys to.” you chuckled, his cock was begging to be freed. “oh you want me to take it off?” you pulled at the robe, he nodded his head, like you could see him.

“if i do something nice for you, doesn’t that mean you have to do something nice for me?” he knew what that meant, so did the other viewers, because soon your tip jar was filling up. he reached for his card, typing in his credit card information.

he typed in $50 without flinching, you smiled at all the donations. “you guys are too kind.” you said, coming closer to the camera, he could now see your plump lips, your boobs about to spill from your bra, he bit his lip. “i guess i owe you guys something.”

you slowly undid your robe, letting it fall, your bra was next, you slowly pulled down the straps, undoing the latches, watch the bra fall into your lap, your boobs bouncing from being freed, he could hold it anymore, he stood up, pulling his underwear down, he cock sprung from his boxers, hitting his abdomen. “shit, he hissed.”

“is this what you guys wanted?” you chuckled , squeezing your boobs together, they looked so soft, he could only imagine what they felt like. “fuck.” he squeezed the base of his cock, teasing himself.

“no? this isn’t what you want?” your lips formed a pout, he thought about what they would look like covered in his cum. “well what is it you want?”

he quickly typed into the chat box. ‘your pants, take your pants off.’

“my shorts?” his heart fluttered, he knew there was thousands of comments saying the same thing, but it felt like you were personally answering him. “don’t you like them?” you teased, pulling at your waistband, a whimper emitting from your lips as you let it go, the elastic snapping against your waist.

“i wore them especially for you.” for him? that made him squeeze his cock, he for sure found his new favorite streamer.

“i guess you have to do something else for me.” he quickly typed in $100 dollars, he knew he shouldn’t have spend that much, but he was desperate — clicking the send button. “oh? 100 dollars, you must be really eager.” he froze, you were talking about him.

“what’s your name?” you said. “thank you FOX.YJN, everyone say thank you to FOX.YJN.” he smiled, the way you said his name, fuck he was gonna cum, he had to stop himself, you hadn’t even done anything, yet you had this hold on him.

you sat back, your legs fully on display, as you took off your shorts, revealing your white matching lace underwear, a wet patch in the middle. “shit.” he whispered, as you rubbed yourself through your underwear. “fuck.” you whimpered.

he seen the tips go up, and the comments telling you to remove your underwear, he didn’t hesitate to type in another $150, hitting send. “o-oh, YJN seems to want it more than any of you tonight.”

you slid your panties down your leg, spreading your legs, your wet cunt on display. “i’m so wet right now.” you moaned, rubbing your folds slowly. “f-feels so good.”

jeongin began to move his hand up and down his cock, moving slowly with you. “fu-fuck please speed up.” he groaned to himself, but it seemed like you answered his prayers, your fingers slowly entering your cunt, you moaned.

the noises from your pussy filling up his earbuds, as you sped up. “fu-fuck my fingers aren’t enough.” you moaned. “i wish it was yours.” he moaned, probably louder than he should’ve, but hearing you say that, in that whiny tone drove him crazy.

“fuck i’m gonna cum.” you whimpered. “m-me too.” he sighed, squeezing his tip. “fuck, please cum with me, cum with me please.” your begging really pushed him over the edge.

“fuck, i’m cumming!” you screamed, cumming all over your fingers. “shit.” he came right after, cum spurting from his tip, covering his hand and shirt. “oh fuck.”

you were talking to the camera as he came down from your high. “wow you guys tipped a lot tonight.” you giggled, your lips swollen from biting them.

“i should show my face next time?” you read the comments. “i told you guys already, maybe one day, but not right now.”

you interacted with a few more comments before, you slid your robe back on, covering your body. “i have to go now guys.” you pouted. “i know, i wish i could stay with you guys longer, maybe next time.”

you blew a kiss to the camera, before the stream cut off — leaving jeongin to sit with his thoughts, fuck it was his first time watching you, yet you left this impact on him, he had to see more of you.

he closed his laptop, grimacing at the sticky mess he created. “i guess i should get cleaned up.” he got up from his chair.

it hadn’t even hit him that he spent 300 dollars.

— ( taglist. OPEN ) @soulsbbg @k-poplv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @bbokarimenu @enczen @queen-in-the-shadows @thesweetesttattoo @ririlinoriri @aloverga @ashiitex @ddazed-lhs @heartsforhyunjin @chlodavids @simp4myself @surefornext @lostwonderwall @xxr-s4sha @charmer-c @vixensss @frobin4ever @bmnyy @semi-semiisbae @m111nho @i2innie

©LUVYENI

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

like a stallion • r. braun x black fem reader

reiner loves taking you to the rodeo. It’s one of the places that the two of you love frequenting in terms of spending quality time together.

cw: pervy reiner (honestly just simping for his wife), black fem chubby reader, car sex, oral sex, reverse cowgirl, squirting, spit play use of pet names and daddy, breeding, self indulgent bc I am a whore first and human second. This isn’t a full fic, just a drabble

📝: minors get the fuck off of my page, you are not welcomed.

reiner loves taking you to the rodeo. It’s one of the places that the two of you love frequenting in terms of spending quality time together. The different shows, the various stands selling food and souvenirs for first time attendees and all the other like minded country folk that you guys found yourselves mingling with. But his driving force behind dragging you along to these events? The outfits you wore! It wasn’t uncommon for him to catch you sporting something skimpy, sexy and revealing. A tight crop top with cowboy boots and a hat to match. Complimenting that curvy body, tiny little skirts that barely covered that thick ass as he dressed in his t-shirts, thin silver necklace with a cross dangling from the end, Wranglers and matching shoes that compliment yours. His six foot five, three hundred fifty pound frame standing starkly over yours as you two walked hand in hand through the bustling crowd. The Rodeo was always the highlight of many people’s year but for Reiner..the main attraction was always you. Oh yes, he could barely contain himself as the two of you settled into your seats, excited to watch the bull riding competition. That glowing, rich skin glistening in the sunlight..your complexion the prettiest thing he’d ever seen and only amplified by the glittery sun oil you slicked yourself up with. Big bouffant curls tucked up underneath that hat and your gorgeous face peering up at him in excitement. It’s enough to make his heart flutter and face burn red, as it got him every time. “Look, babe! Did you see that?” Your voice reigning him back in as he derailed his train of thought to those less than appropriate. He couldn’t be vexed to pay those damn animals any attention when he was too busy watching your big breasts nearly spill from that corset top. “Y-yeah. That was really cool.” Delectable and succulent like two ripe melons..ones he wanted to get his mouth on so badly he could taste it. Flicking his pink tongue around those brown nipples; his vision adverting to your thighs shortly thereafter. Seeing that thickness squished makes him only want to part them even more. So thick it was mere seconds from ripping your denim. Knowing what lies in the center and he’s practically salivating to sink his cock between it. And what really sends him over the edge? Is when you guys decide to check out the mechanical bull and he’s watching you bounce around, he can feel his pants become a tad bit tighter. The thought of him being underneath you instead getting him riled up. That body was like the finest thoroughbred..stacked like that of a stallion and it drove him crazy with every passing second.

so honestly, it comes as no surprise when it comes time for intermission and he can’t help but to whisk you away to his Ford F350 parked out on the grass lot. Propping your legs up on the dash and console as he ate your pussy right there in the front seat. He couldn’t even be bothered to get your clothes off fully; letting those tiny denim shorts dangle around your ankle and leaving your panties on as he sucked your clit through the thin material like a man unhinged. “Mmmm…Rei. Wait, baby! Fuck..” laughing as you had to all but push him away when you reached yet another orgasm thanks to his mouth. Sloppily devouring that dripping cunt and savoring every bit of the flavor. A smirk curdled across his lips as they were stained with your sticky nectar. “What f’r, darling? It didn’t seem like ya’ wanted me to stop from the way ya’ were moaning.” But you were afraid if he didn’t, you’d wet both his beard and his t-shirt up. But your husband didn’t seem to mind one bit! Especially when he sank those thick fingers of his into your tight little cunt and drew the liquid out, leaving you spasming on nothing more than air once you came. “Now look at that..best fucking show I’ve seen all day.” The excitement between you guys only grew tenfold when you practically whimpered; begging him to unfasten his big belt buckle and let you get a taste of your own. Wasting no time in grasping at his cock, pumping it in your palm..inhaling sharply through your teeth as he had awoken your salacious thoughts as well. It didn’t take long before he found himself engulfed..those plump, gloss slackened lips swallowing that dick in its entirety. Your desire to please and drain him dry all but apparent by your needy whimpers that hummed so gently against his shaft. The sounds of constant sloshing and sucking like heavenly melodies to his ears. Sloppily drenching all nine inches in a haze of saliva. Regardless of the gagging noises and cries you emitted. It wasn’t until you glared directly into his eyes, fixated on you as he watched his balls disappear between your jaws and that shaft enclosed between your acrylic fingertips. He had to all but pry you away; leaving that mouth a disheveled mess..one he added to by squeezing your cheeks together and spitting onto your tongue. “G-ahh..get on top of me, baby..right now.” Demanding in that deep southern drawl; breath shaky from being sucked off so fucking good. Allowing you to crawl onto his spread thighs, setting you atop his lap and fully erect dick. Pulsating the second it made contact with that fat pussy. “Put it in me, please Rei…” immediately after finding yourself filled to the brim and being bounced around on that cock..thrashing around inside of you with your breasts pressing the steering wheel. Reiner reclined the seats back, watching in a full blown trance as that round, thick ass ricocheting off of him; catching faint glimpses of that grip each time you slid up and down. That creamy slick puddling between your flesh each time you took him. “Yeah..ride that dick. You’re fuckin’ me so good, darling..making a mess all over me..”breath hitching as he struggled to form a coherent thought. Being ridden like this made anything else pale in comparison and what truly took it over the top were the sights of you only in your white boots and hat..something so sexy about it! You’d look back, tongue extended out and a toothy grin on your pretty face as you fucked him senseless. “Mmm…you know how wet this pussy gets for you, daddy… ‘wanna nut all over this dick.” Declaring as you cried out loudly. You didn’t give a fuck if anyone spotted or heard the two of you at this point. The tinted windows were already coated in a hazy fog and the frame began to rock from the outside. Causing a calamity of noise.. with the combination of nasty smacking sounds, thunderous clapping of skin and expletives being hurled back and forth at each other. You telling him to slap your ass and grab your neck..even commanding that he rub your clit with those fingerpads to him telling you how badly he wanted to nut inside of you.

no one had ever fucked him like this and vice versa…that pussy was his and he’d fill the entire womb whenever he felt like it. It was only shortly thereafter, among your exchange that he was only mere seconds from doing so. “Hold still..fuck!” Aggressively grunting in your ear as he grasped those hips and pounded up into that warmth. “Yeah! Fuck this pussy, daddy..fuck it..ahh shit!” Cursing as you clawed at the leather dash; whimpers choked out by his large hand around your neck. You could feel that shaft pulsating inside of you and before long, his strokes became erratic..to the point he couldn’t even maintain a rhythm and he emptied that hot, creamy load to the rim..with baited breath and quite honestly, bitch like cries. “Fuck..you came in me so hard..filled my little pussy..” that high pitched, dumbed out, dizzy voice making him twitch..you had successfully drained him everything he had to offer; the previous one residing in your throat and all over your tits. Needless to say, you guys had to cut your outing short but the night was far from done, as he plans to go for another round or two once he got you home…once he found the strength to get you guys there! But one thing he did know for sure..

“Yeah..that’s what you get f’r wearing that sexy ass outfit around me..ya’ know I can’t help myself..”

was that he’d never be able to resist you, no matter what.

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ccastellans · 2 months

Text

love letters.

luke castellan x gn!reader

SUMMARY: luke castellan decides to give you a love letter during a difficult day.

AUTHORS NOTE: no usage of y/n (just “reader” insert), this is very unedited, i haven’t written in a few months so don’t judge me 😭😭

————————————————————————

it was an incredibly hot day in camp half blood, and of course they chose strawberry picking as the activity of the day.

the scorching heat was already keeping you on edge, but it just so happens that nothing seemed to be working in your favor today.

you had accidentally dropped your bucket and spilled all of the strawberries you had managed to pick so far. and to top it all off, some of the other campers were being particularly pushy and rude, making it impossible to simply relax and enjoy the activity.

as the strawberry picking went on, your frustration and short temper only grew, and you began to feel like you were losing control. your fingers began to fumble as you were desperately trying to pick this one tough strawberry that just wouldn’t come off the green vine.

suddenly, you feel a soft tap on your back. you jump from the sudden contact, and quickly turn around defensively. although, your stance and gaze soften when you see that it’s just luke castellan.

the curly, brown haired boy silently greets you with his welcoming grin, and hands you a little folded up paper before running off to continue his counsellor duties. you already feel a little lighter just from the small interaction you had with the hermes cabin counsellor.

you focus on the folded up paper that he has handed to you. as curiosity takes over, you begin to unravel the paper.

when you finish unfolding the paper, you’re greeted with a lined sheet of paper, covered in words. you can feel a pair of eyes burning a hole into the back of your head as you stare at the lined paper. you acknowledge the little doodles littered around the page. little red hearts, smiley faces, and even some messy ones that you’re unable to decipher. the letter reads;

“ to reader,

hey there! :) it seems like you’ve been having a pretty rough day, and i just wanted to let you know that you're doing great! <3 dont let the other campers get to you, and don't focus on the strawberries you've lost. i love you so so much!! you always bring a smile to my face and make my heart feel so full of joy, so i hope this letter can make you feel that way too.

with all my heart,

luke castellan. :) “

your heart flutters as you process all of the kind words luke wrote to you. you cant help it when your eyes search for luke amongst the field of strawberries. it’s almost as if the two of you were thinking the same thing, because as your eyes find his; his eyes are already trained on you. and of course he’s wearing that adorable smile of his.

you cant help but grin at the boy, and silently mouth the words “thank you” , hoping he can read your lips. luke just nods back at you, as the grin on his face grew impossibly larger.

————————————————————————

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fluff #charlie bushnell #luke castellan #percy jackson

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httpsserene · 7 months

Text

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟭𝟬: 𝘆𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗼𝗱𝗮 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝗮𝗯-𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝗳𝗿𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗲

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your mental state is suffering–you’re not sure if you can handle alphatauri posting another thirst trap of your boyfriend to disguise their inability to build a car that doesn’t break within the first ten laps. but, when yuki posts his own half-naked picture on main? he’s asking for it, at this point. clearly, he’s been spending too much time with pierre. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. ab-riding. pierre gasly is his own warning. no penetrative sex. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: yuki tsunoda x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: drabble. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best friend • saweetie ft. doja cat

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: this is actually the dirtiest fic, in theory yk. yuki has my heart, and i'm single handedly going to fill tumblr with my posts about him, thank you, good night.

do you want to be added to my general taglist? send me an ask!

cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

to see what kinktober uploads have already been completed or to see what's coming next check my f1 kinktober masterlist ! for all of my works see my general masterlist!

you can’t stand his smug ass smirk. he knows damn well how you feel about his thirst traps. sure, alphatauri milks any chance of plastering yuki across their social media page to fail at distracting fans from the fact that their the slowest car on the grid, and that they can’t build a car that doesn’t fall apart like legos. but, yuki, posting practically-naked (he’s only shirtless, so really you’re mildly exaggerating) pictures on his main instagram page?? he’s not george-fucking-russell, so, why the hell would he do that?

there’s only two answers to this question, and they’re both correct. one, pierre gasly—the french bastard. you can’t leave them together unsupervised. and two, to make you mad. 9which you very much are, so, yuki achieved what he wanted. he’s especially thrilled, when you shove him down onto your bed, and straddle his lap, angrily tugging his shirt off. yuki grins up at you, satisfied at where a simple shirtless picture lead him to. he should listen to pierre more often, his ex-teammate might have good ideas, however rare they are. once his shirt is off, you freeze, breathing heavily as you drink in the sight of his torso. you lean forward and start sucking marks into his pecs, biting into the meat of his chest, and tracing the definition of his abs with your tongue. yuki’s moans rumble in his chest, and he lets his eyes flutter shut and basks under the thorough claim you’re leaving on his body. at least you’re kind enough to avoid placing any marks high enough to where they could be seen from the neck of a shirt—alphatauri will just have to post pre-filmed videos they have in the vault while your hickeys fade, they’ll survive.

you erratically jerk away again, and strip your bottoms off, shoving your underwear down and tossing them behind you. you tug your shirt up until it bunches under your armpits, and you drag the cups of your bra underneath your chest, causing them to spill over the top obscenely. roughly grabbing at your boyfriend’s hands, you direct them to grasp at your boobs, and command, “keep your abs flexed.” yuki makes a noise of confusion, but you don’t elaborate any further. you lower yourself to sit on his abdomen, and grind across him slowly, testing the waters. your head falls forward from the zing of pleasure that races up your spine, and you quickly start rabbiting your hips across the dips and ridges of his muscles.

yuki is rendered speechless at your motions. he was expecting you to ride his dick, not his abs. he’s not going to complain about this, though. you’re rubbing yourself off on his torso—your moans are bitten off and rough, and your grinds are deep and forceful to make sure your clit catches on every sharp edge of his abdomen. it’s the dirtiest thing yuki’s ever seen you do, usually he’s the one being unhinged. he squeezes at your chest rhythmically, dropping his hands to your chest eventually to watch how your breasts bounce at every shift you make—he sighs contentedly, this is heaven.

he brings one hand to reach around you and palm himself over his shorts, but is denied the chance to do so. you hiss at him meanly, and pull his hand back to your waist, eyes flashing at him in warning. yuki falters under the commanding glint of your gaze, maybe he pushed you too far this time. he adjusts his grip on your body and takes some of the load off you, and guides your hips against his body for you—he could feel your thighs begin to tremble in exhaustion and based on how deadest you’ve become on getting yourself off on his abs, he doesn’t want to feel any additional wrath when your release slips from your grasp.

a squeal of relief rattles through your chest at how yuki does the hard work for you. he moves your body exactly how you crave, and you find it incredibly difficult to remember why you were mad in the first place. instead of your thighs shaking in tiredness—you’re thankfully not used to being the one putting all the work in, your boyfriend’s stamina is appreciated—they begin to quiver as you get closer to cumming. your own hand comes to tug at your nipples, looking for any last flare of pleasure to push you over the edge. the wetness you’ve spread across his abs has started to lessen the friction you feel against your cunt. yuki sees the frustration furrowing your brow, and shifts his right hand down over your navel so his thumb can rub at your clit. you gasp, throwing your head back at white-hot burst of contentment behind your eyes, and all it takes is a few more furious passes of yuki’s fingers on your cunt, as the coil snaps inside your core, and waves of bliss crash over you.

yuki slips his hand away, and guides you to ride out the aftershocks on his abs. he moans at the sight of pure satisfaction on your face, and how you’ve soaked his torso, reminding him what belongs to you, with no room for vagueness. you eventually slow your roll, and fall to the side off yuki. the two of you pant as you stare at the ceiling, allowing the rapid beats of your hearts to slow.

you tilt your head to face him, and smile dopily at the sight of yuki staring at his navel. you’ve drenched him with your release, and it glistens beautifully on his tanned skin. if you were truly unhinged, you’d take a picture with your hand rubbing your wetness across his skin, and post it for everyone to see. the contrasting shades of your skin under the light of golden hour would look perfect. it would probably cost your boyfriend’s career, so maybe that’s not an equal exchange.

hummingly faintly, you stumble off 9ithe bed, legs still shaking as you walk towards the bathroom. “you can get yourself off. you’re not fucking me for a week—“ yuki makes an alarmed noise, sputtering in disbelief, struggling to find his words, “oh, don’t get mouthy with me. i could make it so you never fuck me again—i just gave you enough material to last you for that long.” you slam the bathroom door shut, and yuki’s mouth hangs open in shock. fuck, pierre. he’s never listening to his suggestions ever again.

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld@buendiabebeta@butterfly-lover@lana-d3l-rey@dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhaj@miahgonzalez16@jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic@sweetpiccolo-blog@my-ylenia @zaynzierulez@reblog-princess-blog @lovingaphroditesworld @katekipshidze @darleneslane @inloveallthetime

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sanjifucker42069 · 8 months

Text

Calm Him Down- Sanji x Reader

Word Count: 2000

Warnings: mentions of Sora Vinsmoke. Sanji has a panic attack. First ever hurt/comfort lmao, so there's that. Slight OOC as Sanji kinda breaks down, letting people in without costing an arm and a leg, the stubborn bastard. Reader's gender is not specified, but you do sleep in the women's quarters, which like, look at the gender ratio on the Sunny. There's heaps more room in the women's quarters, makes sense to chuck you there.

It's up to you how you read their relationship here. In my mind they're close friends pining for each other, but it could easily be read as platonic or established relationship.

------

It was a peaceful day on the Sunny; the seabirds were squawking, the ocean lapped at the boat lazily, and Zoro and Sanji were arguing. Go figure. Your eyebrow twitched, where you say at the kitchen table giving you perfect access to the argument. You don't even remember how it started, probably something banal. Beside you, Chopper was reading a book, fully immersed in its pages. You tried tuning out most of the fight.

"You're lucky I don't come over there and kick the shit out of you. I've had enough of your disgraceful behaviour." Sanji growled.

Zoro regarded the blonde with a sneer. “What shit-cook, you gonna cry to mummy about it?”

CRASH. SLAM.

You whipped your head to the kitchen, seeing Sanji staring down the swordsman with barely-contained fury. Blood turning to ice, your breath hitched. You’d never seen the sweet cook look so murderous. There was a fire in his eyes that broke your heart, like it was a glimpse to the true man underneath. You swear you could catch a hint of vulnerability, but he was stamping that down, waves of violent palpable pain rolling off him.

“You know nothing about my mother, so shut the fuck up.”

The silence that flooded the room was suffocating. You flinched, physically feeling how all warmth was sucked from the air. Sanji growled, deep and furious.

“Get the fuck out of my kitchen. All of you.”

“Hey, I didn’t me-” Zoro started weakly.

“Sanji.” You breathed.

“Get. out.” The snarl that rewarded you knocked the wind out of you. Wordlessly you collected Chopper, taking him by the hand and helping him out of his seat. The reindeer looked shocked, tears threatening to spill. You rubbed small circles into the fur above his hoof with your thumb. Sparing him one last glance, you grabbed Zoro by the ear with your free hand, dragging the hissing man. If you purposefully pinched hard, then who was to say. Surreptitiously you flicked your eyes to the cook, but Sanji had his back to you, arms bracing the kitchen counter. His hands were clutching the wood in a vice-like grip, none too gentle. You sighed, hauling the two out of the galley. Softly, you let go of Chopper’s hand and pulled the heavy door closed. Your fingers pinched Zoro’s ear hard one last time, before releasing.

Before the swordsman could open his mouth, you shushed him. “I know. I know, okay, there’s no way any of us could’ve known. Just. Go cool down. It does no good, us being here.”

Zoro’s lips thinned into a blank stare. He muttered out a simple “Yeah,” before turning and leaving the immediate area. With a small nod you crouched down to the small doctor, cradling his little face.

“Hey Chop? It’s okay, okay? He’s gonna be okay. Do you think you could tell the others to stay clear of the kitchen for a while? Maybe you could make something to calm him down?” It was imperative you kept Chopper busy. The cute boy nodded, sniffing back his tears. You ruffled his hat against his head. “There’s our doctor! Thank you sweetheart.”

Once the small reindeer had left you leant against the door, heart breaking. In all your time as a crew, from Merry to Sunny, you had never seen Sanji so upset. Yeah, the man had a temper, but not a severe temper. Sanji could always be calmed down or diverted. It was clear. He was hurt. When you thought about it, you don’t think you’d ever heard Sanji talk about his family. You sat there in silence for a few moments before you heard it.

Tears?

No, fuck that. You don’t care if he banned you all from the kitchen, you weren’t going to let him cry alone. As quiet as you could, you crept back into the galley. Sanji was nowhere to be seen. Impossible. You’d heard him.

“Sanji?” You asked quietly.

The silence of the kitchen was unsettling. You weren’t imagining it, there was an almost imperceivable sniffle. The room felt suffocating, hurt and panic strangling the air. You began inspecting the room, making your way to the kitchen island. That’s when you heard it, a small voice, deep and rasping, but trying so hard to not be heard.

“Please go away.”

Oh.

You peered over the kitchen island to find him. Sanji was curled inwards, sitting on the ground. His knees were drawn to his chest, head lowered. He looked utterly defeated, slightly shaking as he held back tears. Before your brain could even process you had rounded the island at a rate of knots, sliding to a crouch. You held your hands out like you were trying not to startle him. Sanji flinched at hearing you, no, feeling you so close.

“I said go away.”

“I’m not leaving you Sanji.”

“Go. Away.” The mumble that escaped his crying form broke you.

“You would have to kill me for me to leave. Come here.” Sanji ignored you, his arms cradling his own body. A sigh broke its way out of your chest. He looked so small, like a boy trying hard to be brave. The shaking increased in frequency with your words. You couldn’t let him suffer like this alone. “I’m sorry Sanji, but I’m not leaving.”

The man jumped as if electrocuted when you wrapped your arms around him. You took advantage of his surprise, pulling his head against your chest. Sanji struggled, trying to distance himself, but you latched harder. The push and pull continued for a while, until you heard Sanji sigh shakily. He went limp, allowing you to pull him to you, one hand smoothing his hair, the other clinging to his back.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, just let me be here for you.”

That did it. Sanji grabbed at you, wrapping his hands around your back, crushing you. It was a desperate attempt, clumsy and clawing, clear the man was upset. You grunted quietly at the pressure, trying not to startle him. It was quickly apparent you didn’t have to worry about making a noise, as you felt your shirt become damp with tears, Sanji desperately trying to cry quietly. You knew what Sanji was like. It would scare him off if you acknowledged his tears. All you could do was try comforting him, rubbing his back and kissing his hair.

“She’s dead.”

Your breath hitched. No wonder he reacted the way he did. You tried to not feel furious with Zoro, he didn't know, but the anger was still there. Soft sobs permeated the air, each sound chipping at your heart.

"Oh Ji." You sighed, hugging him even harder. He'd have to suffocate soon with how tight you held him, but you noted how he clung to you, as if he was afraid you'd disappear. Sanji's words were clipped and shaky.

"Died when I was a kid. My fault she died, was too weak."

Shock invaded your senses, a freezing feeling travelling through your veins. You weren't sure what he meant, but you knew in your bones there was no way that was right. Sanji always struck you as a sensitive individual, all the more to cement your belief that he wasn't at fault for whatever he was thinking. "No honey, no, that's not true."

“I miss her.” Sanji’s voice was hoarse.

“I know.” You cooed softly, delicately carding your fingers through his hair. "She must have been an amazing woman if she birthed such a wonderful son."

That was the wrong move. It was like a dam burst. Sanji began crying hard, torn between seeking your comfort and escaping. You felt the tendrils of panic surfacing as you watched him struggle to breathe between sobs. Sanji's heart rate picking up, he began shaking in your arms. You watched horrified as he tried to downplay it and seem unaffected, but you knew better.

"Oh, fuck. Ji? Sanji? I'm so sorry. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault, okay?"

Your attempt failed, and you felt Sanji pull away. Shit. Shit, he was having a panic attack. It shattered your heart as you watched him hyperventilate, unable to calm down. Without thinking you cupped his cheeks, forcing him to stare at you.

"Sanji. Honey. Its going to be okay. Breathe with me, okay? In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Try with me. Good." You coached him through, trying to encourage deeper breaths. Sanji's visible eye was bloodshot and frantic, eye flitting between your facial features. You noted his eye was not focused on anything in particular, he seemed distant. His nose was red, no doubt sore from sniffling. Shaky breaths escaped him, and you tried desperately to seem calm. "Eyes on me. Breathe. You're okay, you're here on the Sunny. We're here. You're doing good baby."

Breathe.

Breathe with me.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Sanji crumpled against you once his breathing was finally steady. You cradled him, rocking the two of you gently. You were certain Sanji would prefer to just exist in the silence, but you couldn't help the word vomit that escaped.

"You don't have to go through this alone Sanji. You have us, you have Zeff and the Baratie. You have Nami, and Robin, and Luffy. Usopp, Brook, Franky, Chopper. Fuck even Zoro!" You were rambling, tears of your own escaping. "And me. I'll always be here if you feel overwhelmed. You can't get rid of us Sanji. We love you."

"Why?" His voice cracked. "Why waste your time?"

Sanji froze as you tilted his chin up to stare at him. You eyes were serious and vulnerable. "Time spent with you is never wasted. You are capable of being loved, and I'll be damned if I let you think otherwise."

You watched as Sanji stuttered out a shaky sigh.

"Your mum would be proud of you Sanji." Anxious, you continued. Sanji's breath hitched. "I'm sure she'd see the man I see before me; who's kind beyond a fault, who is sweet and sensitive. Who can cook the most mouthwatering dishes, who protects and cares for those around him. You're a good person Sanji. You need to let yourself believe that."

You were rewarded with a teary smile, one not reaching the eyes. Sanji looked tired, dark under eyes and pale skin. With a smile back, you gestured to get up. The quizzical look he gave you warming your heart.

"C'mon. I'll kick the girls out for a couple hours. You look exhausted, come take a nap with me."

"Oh, no I couldn't. I need to finish making dinner, a-and it wouldn't be right for me to-mmph."

You silenced him with a gentle finger to his lips. "We're mostly adults Ji. One night of subpar food from Usopp's cooking is not going to kill us. Now c'mon."

Sanji let you lead him to the girl's quarters, specifically your bed. He watched where your hand held his, it looked like they were made for each other. In any other circumstance he'd blush and coo over the display, but right now he felt beyond exhausted, a weariness deep in his bones. He weakly protested as you took off his jacket.

"Get comfy. I'll be right back." Your voice was quiet and warm. Sanji wanted to melt. Instead, he nodded and sat down on your bed. In another situation, he might squeal and bury himself in your scent, or be embarrassed at how in charge you were. Instead, he removed his shoes, placing them neatly on the floor near your bed. He sat there awkwardly, eyelids heavy from tiredness and crying.

The door squeaked back open.

"Got you some water and some painkillers. I know I always get a wicked headache after I cry." Sanji gratefully took the pills, knocking it back with the full glass. He didn't realise how parched he was. Slipping your shoes off, you crawled behind him, making yourself comfortable. Sanji could see you spread out on the small bed out of the corner of his eyes. He watched you spread your arms out.

Wordlessly the lanky man laid down next to you, shuffling into your warm embrace. Sanji lightly startled when you pulled the blanket over the two of you, before you closed your arms, hugging him gently. The feeling of your hand back in his hair was comforting, so too was the small humming of Binks' Sake, lulling him gently to sleep. Before he could pass out he nuzzled against you.

"Thank you (name)."

"Anytime Sanji. Get some sleep."

And sleep he did, soon drifting off in your arms. Once you made sure he was fully asleep you frowned. Poor man. He really didn't know how precious he was. His soft snores rewarded you, and you felt your own lids get heavy. You couldn't help it, and so, cradling your own treasure, you fell asleep tangled around him.

#sanji x reader #one piece x reader #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #hurt/comfort #ive bever written hurt/comfort before lmao be gentle #i hAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS MAN #...bruh im actually hella hungry rn #i promise i dont only write whoreknee shit!

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beyondspaceandstars · 9 months

Text

"You deserve all the flowers."

Relationship: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader Drabble Summary: Peter brings you flowers every night and you're just not sure why. Word Count: 740 A/N: what?? what??? a new drabble - a FRESHLY written drabble? i got so excited last night when I finally had the motivation/inspiration to write. this is over on the word count for my usual drabbles but it's under 1k so i think it still counts lmao i hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist

You swore one of these days Peter was going to turn your apartment into a full-blown greenhouse. You didn’t know how it started or why he always showed up with flowers but your kitchen was crowded with vases and it was slowly spilling over into your living room.

And now here Peter, still in his Spider-Man suit, was once again entering your apartment through your fire escape window while gripping another bouquet. He brought you daisies this time. They were very fragrant; their scent filled your bedroom immediately.

"Hi, sweetheart," Peter muttered after he pulled off his mask. "I picked these up for you tonight. I hope they’re okay, I don’t think I’ve gotten you daisies in a while."

You couldn’t help but smile as you took the fresh flowers from him. "Thank you, Peter. They’re lovely," you replied. He had most certainly just gotten you daisies last week but you weren’t going to mention it. That bunch was in your kitchen, blooming and bright.

Peter planted a kiss on your cheek before shuffling aside your open textbooks and flopping on his unofficial official side of your bed. You were just finishing up studying for your college midterms when he came in.

You took in Peter’s exhausted form. He didn’t look too beat up, just a bit tired, which put you at ease. You weren’t a stranger to this situation. Peter would come to your apartment following his patrol, flowers in hand, ready to talk about nothing and everything before you both inevitably drifted off to sleep. But you’d never go to bed before the flowers were taken care of. Even though Peter brought you a plethora of them—so much so you were having to seriously get creative with the vases—each one melted your heart. Each one was special and deserved proper attention.

You cared for them because he cared enough to get them. But you never quite understood why it was so consistent. Did other girls want this many flowers?

"What were you working on?" Peter asked as he flipped through one of your textbooks. You watched his eyes skim the page.

"Philosophy," you answered, but it wasn’t like you had to. "I have a midterm coming up."

"Oh, yeah, we’re at that time of the year," he sighed. "Do you want me to quiz you on anything tonight?"

You shook your head and gently pulled the book from his hands. You closed the cover and shut your notebooks all while still coddling the bouquet of daisies. "Peter, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he responded, his voice very level. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, of course," you assured him, "I just wanted to ask about the flowers."

He frowned. "The flowers?"

You nodded as you fiddled with the stems of the daisies. "They’re really beautiful and so thoughtful of you, it’s just…"

"What?" Peter gulped. "Do you not like them?"

"No," you insisted, "no, that’s not it at all. I love them so much. But I’m just curious… Why? Why do you bring me flowers every night?"

Your sweet boyfriend let out a sigh of relief at your question. "That’s what that big build-up was for?" He teased.

Your cheeks grew warm. "My apartment is drowning in flowers, Peter."

"There’s still room," he said with a shrug. "But to answer your question I… I guess it gives me something to focus on, a goal to have at the end of the night. It’s not always crazy out there but there’s been some things that have gotten to me and it’s just part of what keeps me going. I gotta protect the great people of this city and I gotta bring you flowers." Peter sighed. "I love you so much, sweetheart, and you deserve all the flowers."

An ache stabbed its way through your chest. Your grip on the flowers tightened as a tear threatened to spill out. Your reaction felt a little dramatic but your boyfriend’s words were just what you needed to hear.

"Oh, honey…" You nearly cried as you leaned over to place a kiss on his lips. He was also almost crying but still happily reciprocated the affection.

Peter sniffled. "I’m sorry I’ve been drowning you in flowers."

You shook your head and let out a breathy laugh. "I don’t mind anymore. Please drown me in flowers forever, babe."

"Forever," Peter repeated with a smile. "Absolutely. Forever. I can do forever."

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wzrd-wheezes · 10 months

Note

could i request a short imagine with remus x fem reader, where they’re best friends, and one day in the library while remus is talking about some book he’s passionate about, the reader just kisses him??? thank u!!!

Ink-Stained Fingers - Remus Lupin x Reader.

AN - this was such a cute request and i had so much fun writing it! thank you so much <3

Y/N’s fingers were stained with ink from her quill as she frantically scribbled on a particularly long roll of parchment, desperately trying to finish her potions essay that was due in the morning. Remus sat opposite her, his feet propped up on the table and a book gripped between his fingers.

“How many times have you read that one, then?” Y/N asked, glancing up at him.

“Dunno.” he replied, barely looking up, “Five maybe?”

Y/N smiled to herself, returning her attention to her homework. Remus would usually keep her company on her late night study sessions in the library when she was cramming in her homework last minute. She wasn’t as organised as he was usually.

Remus’ fingers toyed idly with a loose thread on the sleeve of his jumper as he read. By the looks of it, it was a book that he’d read over and over. The edges of the pages had gone fuzzy like they had been thumbed through many times and his brow furrowed as his eyes danced over the words.

“I can lend it you if you want?” Remus broke the silence.

“Are you feeling alright?” Y/N laughed, “James asked to borrow one of your books the other day and you looked like he’d just asked you to sacrifice your first born child!”

Remus chuckled, closing the book and placing it on the table.

“That was only ‘cause I know he wouldn’t look after it,” he said, “knowing him he’d probably leave it somewhere.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, dipping her quill back into the pot of ink and carrying on writing. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Remus reach down to retrieve something from his bag. He took out a quill and ink and began flicking quickly through the pages of his book.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N asked, not looking up from the piece of parchment in front of her.

“‘M just writing you some notes in the margins,” he muttered, clearly deep in thought, “y’know, for when you read it.”

Her eyes snapped up to look at him and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Remus was biting down on his lip as he scribbled down his notes, a crease forming between his brows. It was as if he couldn’t get the words down on the pages quick enough.

“This is one of my favourites, you know?” he spoke, “The characters are so well thought out and the way that it’s written is honestly…”

He went on, telling her every detail of the story telling without trying to ruin it for her. His lips pulled into a smile as he spoke, the words spilling effortlessly out of his mouth. His eyes were wide and shining with excitement and Y/N had lost track of what he was saying, completely in awe of how passionately he was speaking about the book.

Y/N didn’t know why she did it, but before she had even registered what she was doing, she had leaned across the table and kissed him. She caught him mid sentence, his mouth slightly open and his lips soft against hers. Y/N pulled away quickly, her eyes widening and her heart pounding.

“If you wanted me to shut up you only had to tell me.” Remus laughed, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I’m sorry - I don’t know why I did that!” Y/N panicked, “Shit. you’re my best friend-”

This time Remus cut her off. Leaning over the table and grabbing her face with his hands. The kiss this time was more sure, his lips confident against hers, his hand resting on her jaw. He tried to pull her closer to him to deepen the kiss when all over a sudden they were distracted by a dull thud as something hit the wood of the table.

Looking down, they saw that the pot of ink had been knocked over, the dark liquid spilling across the table and seeping onto the the roll of parchment where Y/N was writing her essay. She let out a gasp, trying to snatch her work away from the ink that was spreading at a rapid pace.

“Don’t worry about it.” Remus said, taking the paper from her hands and dropping it to the floor, his eyes still fixed on hers. The ink had got on his fingers too, and he chuckled as he looked at them. “I’ll help you write another one.”

His lips quickly found Y/N’s again, their ink stained fingers intertwining.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fan fiction #remus lupin x you #marauders #marauders era #marauders fan fiction

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batterygarden · 1 year

Text

armin & his crybaby gf

sfw but no minors on my page pls

cw: college au, condescending and toxic bf armin (in a hot way!), ft. creepy bully eren, armin pushes reader's hair from her face once, reader is slut shamed for wearing a skirt, & fic spoilers: implied nude sharing w eren which reader did not consent to, about 1.2 k words, thank u for helping me my love, @deliriovs

Armin loves the heavy weight of your head on his chest after you’ve had a hard day. He loves how his shirt gets damp with your tears and snot ‘cause you're incapable of self soothing—how you always need him to put you back together at the littlest inconvenience. But today he’s busy—he’s got his first medical licensing exam to study for and it’s annoying when you burst into his room crying. He’s mentally kicking himself the second he sees you in his peripheral; he should have set aside more free time today in case you needed him for something. It was stupid to assume you could make it through one night without him there to comfort you through whatever bothered you today.

“‘Min.” You whine after shutting his door behind you, finally unleashing a pent up sob now that you’re alone together. You freeze when you see his exhausted stare though, paired with a pile of papers and textbooks next to his laptop that he’d clearly been pouring over.

He slowly slides back his headphones and scrubs his palms in his eyes when he turns his chair to face you, sighing under his breath before opening his arms, motioning for you to come sit on his lap.

Of course you don’t hesitate, breathing out a shaky sigh of relief when you sit sideways over his legs, burying your face in his shoulder and curling your fingers around the neck of his sweater, trying not to choke on your own breath when another wave of tears takes over.

Armin thinks you’re a little pathetic sometimes—and it’s endearing, but today he’s overwhelmed. You’re just so needy. Still, he rubs his hands over your back gently, feeling your shuddered breaths begin to slow.

“Baby are you okay?” His sweet tone doesn’t meet his bored expression—not that you can see with your face buried like it is.

You nuzzle into him further, wishing you could dig a hole in his flesh and bury yourself inside—where it’s safe and warm and comforting.

You hum no with a shake of your head, trying one more deep, steadying breath before turning just enough to say,

“Today was terrible. You remember that guy who sits by me in sociology, Eren? We were talking and he started acting really creepy…”

Armin’s shoulders tense subtly and you peek to see him looking at the ceiling with a drained expression—the kind of face you think he’d make if you told him you spilled coffee in his backpack. You can read his mind before he has the chance to speak, so you scramble to cover for yourself,

“Wait, ‘Min, he talked to me first—please don’t be mad.”

“M’not mad. I’m disappointed you didn’t listen to me.”

Your heart starts to beat fast again when you hear the subtle change in his tone.

“Well, let me finish—”

“I told you not to talk to him. And now you’re coming in here crying cause you don’t know how to follow simple instructions. Almost sounds like I should let you handle whatever he did yourself.”

His hand doesn’t stop its careful circuit around your spine while he talks, and his tone isn’t especially scary—his words only come with an air of patience that reminds you of how your parents used to talk to you when you were a child. Like you’re a loved one throwing a tantrum. It’s demeaning and a bit harsh in your opinion—he’s being unfair. But when you turn your head to argue and show off your hurt expression, his eyes look kind and then he’s pushing hair out of your face with a touch so gentle it’s cruel.

Any defiance washes away then… ugh you’re exhausted.

“You’re right, I’m… so-sorry,” you say in a fragile voice, trying to breathe evenly so you don’t disappoint him. Armin always knows best—he was just looking out for you and now you’re being annoying. The thought brings fresh wetness to your eyes, another stifled sob to your throat.

Then you’re releasing his shirt to instead hook your arms behind his back, squeezing yourself into him like you can hide this way. You can’t see the resulting roll of his eyes, but you feel him wrap his other arm around you, pressing his cheek down into your neck and rocking you slightly.

His voice is feather-soft when he says, “Y’know I just want what’s best for you.” You notice it’s not a question but a statement. You nod, nuzzling your face further into his soft sweater, breathing in the comforting floral scent of his laundry detergent.

He sighs, finding your reactions to things absurd. My sensitive little baby. He hugs you a little tighter then and whispers, “So what’d he do?”

You wipe your eyes on his collar before mumbling a broken, barely coherent story into his neck. You detail how it made you feel when Eren wouldn’t get out of your personal space earlier, how mad you were when he called your favorite skirt slutty. He was being so mean even though you were going out of your way to help him with the homework!

Armin listens respectfully to the whole thing, nodding along and murmuring little mhm’s when necessary.

But when you finish talking and finally pull away to look at him, he’s staring past you at the wall with this cold, calculating face that sort of scares you—the kind of expression that emphasizes the lavender of his under eyes, reasserting how tired he must be right now.

When he doesn’t immediately say anything, you reach a shaky hand up to trace his dark circles, and his gaze finally flicks down to you again. He smiles a little.

“I mean he has a point about the skirt doesn’t he?”

His words pour gasoline on cooled ashes; you only huff and drop your head to his shoulder again.

“I guess, maybe.”

You play with the fabric of his button up that peaks beneath his sweater. Then you’re yawning and Armin chuckles light and sweet under his breath, ducking down to kiss your brow.

“There it is. You were just upset ‘cause you were tired, huh sleepyhead?”

Like a spell, suddenly you notice your eyelids do feel pretty heavy.

“Maybe.”

“Will you sleep now, my good listener? Let me get some more work done? Stop worrying about nobodies like Eren?”

You shut your eyes and nod, and then Armin’s sliding his headphones back into place, rocking you in his chair for a bit before carefully laying you on his bed.

Then he’s quick to pull out his phone, finding Eren’s contact and sending a text faster than the speed of light.

you’re weird as hell ren, why’d you have to scare her like that today?

LMAO she talked about me?

not sharing pics anymore if you do it again. fucking idiotic

i'm trying to talk to more armin fuckers.. pls hml 😏

#armin x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #armin x you #armin fic #armin drabble #I CANT WATCH THE EP YET AHHHHHH

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kelcemenow · 3 months

Text

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 7.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 2041

Warnings Mentions of fainting/panic attack, this one has a little bit of an angsty theme to it, but there's still a bit of fluff at the end.

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I’ve tried my best with this one! “I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!”

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

"Wooooooh!" Your Dad bellowed as he raised his clenched fists into the air.

You glanced around the viewing box as a couple of other people were watching and smiling at him, "I'm sorry, he's really excited." You nodded.

"This is so awesome!" He beamed back at you, "I can't believe I'm here!"

You grinned and leaned in closer to him, straining your voice over the music, "Well, believe it, it's happening!"

Gripping your plastic tumbler of beer, your wide eyes scanned the stadium as thousands of fan poured into the stadium, filling their seats. There was a sea of red and white clad supporters below you, all anxiously waiting for the game to start. As you took a quick sip of your drink, a loud and low voice boomed in your ears.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Your Kansas City Chiefs!"

The stadium roared as several dozen pumped up men spilled out onto the field, running and jumping in the air to hype up the crowd. Your gaze danced around them until it finally settled onto Travis, who was jogging out close to Patrick, speaking in his ear. They stopped and Travis lifted his knee to begin warming up, his eyes checking the stands. When he finally looked in your direction, your stomach gave a flutter and he waved gently towards you.

Your Dad nudged you playfully with his elbow and you felt your cheeks flush bright red. The excitement built up in your stomach as the floor rumbled with noise, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. The Las Vegas Raiders were the Chiefs' biggest rivals, and with 71 wins against them behind their belts, the Chiefs were preparing for a another one to add to the list.

As the game began, you noticed that your eyes always seemed to drift to Travis. You were watching the game, but there was something about him that drew you in. He was showman, giving the crowd what they wanted and every play was a spectacle. Your Dad was fully immersed, shouting and cheering at every necessary opportunity and it warmed your heart to see him so happy. His kind eyes sparkled like a child at Christmas and by the time half time had rolled around, he had already made a friend in a gentleman next to him.

"Hey, Pop." You leaned closer to him and placed your hand on his shoulder, "I'm heading for another beer, do you want one?"

"Yes please, Sport." He reached into his jeans pocket, "And get one for my friend here."

You smiled and nodded, ducking out of the viewing box, grabbing your bag on the way out. As you paced through the corridors, the roaring sounds of the stadium surrounding you, you pulled your phone from your pocket to check Instagram. You scrolled a few times before your heart stopped as your eyes settled on a post. It was a photograph, although blurry, showing Travis leaning across a small table in a booth to kiss you. You swiped across where there was another picture of the two of you leaving the bar, your hand clasped in his and his gaze fixed on you. You hesitated for a second before tapping on the comments.

"He's dating her???? He can do better."

"I swear she serviced my car last week, not exactly girlfriend material."

"Travis should be dating someone waaay hotter than her."

"She's giving tomboy...and not in a good way."

Moisture quickly flooded your eyes and blurred your vision. You threw your phone back into your purse as you blinked hard, tears rolling down your cheeks. The crowd noises suddenly became muffled and you felt your chest become heavy, your breathing quickening it's pace.

"Are you okay?" A concerned voice said to your right.

You lifted your head as you stumbled back towards the wall, your fingers feeling the cool painted brick.

"Ummm...yeah, thanks." Was all you could manage through your dizzying haze, a numbing sensation spreading from your chest to your face. Your hands pressed against the wall behind you and kept you upright as your mind whirred with the words you had just read.

"Are you sure? I could go and get someone if-"

You sniffed loudly and wiped away some of the moisture that had stained your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater, "No, no. Honestly, I'm fine. Thank you, anyway."

The stranger kept his gaze on you for a little longer, concern strewn across his face before disappearing around the corner of the corridor. You took some deep breaths, rubbing the underneath of your eyes a few more times before rolling your shoulders back and heading towards the bar.

You knew that you probably weren't Travis' usual type and the sudden attention was something you had been apprehensive about. But Travis had sucked you into his life, something drew you to him without your knowledge and now you were fully in the deep end. The comments had not only hurt your feelings, but had confirmed something you were afraid of. Rejection.

"What can I get for you?"

"He can do better."

"I'll take three beers please."

"Not exactly girlfriend material."

"Sure, coming up."

"Not in a good way."

The words span around in your mind, your chest becoming heavy again with your laboured breathing. Your fingers fumbled with the opening of your purse, trying desperately to find your wallet but your skin tingled, the numbness returning.

As the three plastic cups of beer were placed on the bar top in front of you, you noticed that your vision was blurring and you were becoming unsteady. You inhaled deeply in an attempt to secure as much oxygen as you could before your legs gave way and you found yourself slumped on the floor, your elbow throbbing in pain from hitting it against the hard walled surface behind you. Two bartenders rushed to your side, their faces appearing in your foggy vision with expressions filled with concern.

"I'm fine...I'm fine." You mumbled, holding your hands out to try and lift yourself from the ground.

"I think we should get someone." A bright female voice stated confidently, "Aaron, go and get someone from medical."

"Honestly, I'm fine."

She placed her hand firmly on your shoulder, "You're not going anywhere, okay? We going to get you looked at."

As you rested your head against the wall behind you, your eyes floated closed and a warm feeling filled your body, blackness drifting in.

______________________________________________________________

"Really, I'm fine."

"That's all she keeps saying."

"Because I am!" You laughed, shaking your head and looking away.

"You hit your head."

"I hit my elbow."

The bartender had called for an Emergency Medical Technician to check you over, bringing you behind the bar and into the staff area as crowds were beginning to form in the bar during half time. Half time was over now though, and you could hear the game ramping up again.

The EMT continued to check your blood pressure, "Okay, okay. This will only take a few more minutes and we can see what's going on here. You see, people don't just collapse for no reason, Miss."

You rubbed your forehead, "I know. But I'm okay now, I just had a moment."

"Your blood pressure is quite high, this game must be really exciting."

You looked down at the floor, "Something like that."

"That could explain why you collapsed." The EMT furrowed his brow, his apprehensive gaze fully fixed on you, "Are you sure you're okay?"

You rolled your eyes slightly, "For the hundredth time, I'm fine."

The EMT glanced towards the female bartender and then back at you, "Okay. But I would suggest no more alcohol, and take it easy, alright?"

You quickly stood up from the chair, your mouth moving into a smile, "Two beers, please."

______________________________________________________________

The rest of the game was exactly how you imagined it to be. The Chiefs fan's were traditionally loud and the players themselves ate it up. It was truly entertaining and whilst you didn't follow along completely, seeing Travis happy with his win warmed your heart. You didn't tell your Dad about your incident at the bar, instead lying and saying that you were gone a while due to a line at the restroom.

As the stadium began to empty, your Dad said his goodbyes to his friend as you pulled your jacket on. You quickly checked your phone, knowing it would be too early to hear from Travis and instead took a quick photo of the stadium.

"Come on, Sport." Your Dad called as he threw an arm around your shoulder, "I've had the best time!"

You smiled up at him, "I'm so pleased you've enjoyed yourself."

"Are you kidding me? At Arrowhead with my best girl, watching a Chiefs game in Travis Kelce's viewing box? I can die a happy man now,"

You poked him in the stomach, "Hey now. You know I hate it when you say that!" You drew in closer to him, "What do you wanna do now?"

He frowned down at you, "Are you not going to see Travis? Surely, you'll be okay to go to the locker room as congratulate him? Plus, I'd love to meet him and say thank you for the tickets."

"I don't know." You twisted your face as you absently glanced at your cell phone again, "I don't really know if I'm allowed."

You both meandered down the corridor before you spilled out into the crowd, following the natural flow of people out towards the exits. There was a natural buzz amongst the fans due to another win during an already great season but suddenly, the sound of a gentle commotion distracted your attention.

"What's going on there?" Your Dad asked curiously.

Bodies began moving quickly and cell phones were held high up in the air as people started to swarm towards one particular point.

"Travis!" "Travis Kelce!" "Hey, Travis!"

Your eyes widened as Travis pushed himself through the crowd, reaching out for your hands, "Hey, are you okay?"

"Uhhh...yeah. I'm fine." You licked your lips to ease your sudden dry mouth.

"Are you sure?" His hands moved to your arms, giving them a gentle squeeze as his eyes darted across your face, searching for any indication of injury.

"Travis..."

"One of the medics told me you passed out?"

Your Dad edged his way closer to the pair of you, his eyebrows lowered, "Sorry, what was that?"

You sighed, displaying your clear exasperation, "I had a little moment at the bar during half time, I think I was just overwhelmed and I fell down, that's all."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Your Dad pursed his lips, disappointed that you had kept the truth from him.

"Because I didn't think it was that big of a deal. I'm fine."

"Are you okay?" Travis' hold on you was urgent, as if he didn't want to let you go.

"Travis. Like I said, I'm fine."

You were abruptly aware that a crowd of people had begun to gather, their attention fully on Travis. Looking across to him, you noticed that he was barely out of his kit, his pants and undershirt still on, his feet bearing socks instead of his cleats. His brow was glistening and his hands still had remnants of white tape covering them.

Travis detected your gaze, "I came out to find you as soon as I heard."

Your mouth moved into a soft smile, your heart skipping slightly, "That's really cute."

His eyes flickered down to your lips and you could swear you saw him go to lean in towards you before he realised that you had an audience. He straightened his shoulders and turned towards your Dad.

"It's really good to meet you, sir." Travis held his hand out, nodding his head.

Your Dad exhaled quickly in shock as his face flushed a deep crimson colour, "Oh, Mr Kelce. The pleasure is all mine." He took hold of Travis' hand and shook it enthusiastically.

You leaned towards Travis, moving your mouth slightly closer to his ear, "Dad's a big fan."

Travis turned his head, checking the crowds before pulling your Dad in for a hug, "How's about we all head to the locker room and meet some people, huh?"

______________________________________________________________

Will I ever post new chapters within a decent time frame? Who knows? I was in a little bit of a writing slump but I feel like I've got out of the other side of it, and I think I know where this story is going to go! But as always, I will take all and any suggests for this one! I've had to adjust the way I do my Taglist as there's now so many of you all which is crazy!! If you want to be added, just let me know! This series will be going for a bit longer now that I've definitely figured out the story, so I reckon the next chapter will be posted in, like...July? Kidding, of course!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125

@countrygirl120983 @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713

@luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234

@s294749w @kelcemesoftly @calirindo @livinginmyfantasies @bernelflo @secretmywritingfictionlawyer @killatravtramp @there-goes-thefighter @unicornblueberry

@calirindo @tjkelce87 @kristinamae093 @kmc1989 @ajbird18 @triski73 @ctn26 @kgcaputo07 @abby-splace @bobthe-turmpetman29

@cedricbitch @abby-splace @jmamas92 @bellstwd @killatravsworld @marchmaiden @chimchimmarie @blackstabbath6 @fanficfanatic15 @jessiemariebarnes

@mmb219 @vanwritesfan-fiction @futebollover @ks-dreams-fantasies @laurenmcucm @blackstabbath6 @nickie-amore @fictionqueen87 @munsonburner666 @hornyavengers

@spookystitchery @powellssaturn @skywalker0809 @shortttcakkee

#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce imagine #kelce x reader #nfl imagine #original story #travis kelce fic #travis kelce #travis kelce fluff #nfl fluff #travis kelce smut #travis kelce angst #nfl smut #nfl angst #nfl fic #kelcemenow requests

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ajortga · 6 months

Text

slipping through my fingers

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

a/n- hellooooo, i lowkey suck at writing angst, but here. i'm struggling on writing the second part of lead, this is why i can never write two parted stories

this is my attempt of writing angst because i've been watching so many of those i peeled my orange tiktoks

For Jenna’s 20th birthday, you wrote her a 20 paged letter.

You remember working on it and spilling her heart out, out of everything you loved about her, the way you planned on marrying her when you both were older, and your secrets.

You had told her to keep it until exactly one week after her birthday, you said you wrote so many personal things in there and wanted her to keep it safe.

She had twirled you in her arms and kissed you on her birthday, you showered her with love and presents.

The night of her birthday you told her you loved her.

Two days after her birthday, Jenna wanted to make it up to you, thank you, she had brought your favorite flowers, daffodils.

She drove to your parents and your house that day, knocked on your house.

Your parents opened the door, their eyes slowly mellowing as they met Jenna’s.

“It’s good to see you Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. I wanted to give these flowers to Y/N to thank her and how much she’s given to me ever since she entered my life. You raised a beautiful daughter.”

Your parents smiled, playing with their hands, “That’s so thoughtful of you Jenna, thank you. Unfortunately Y/N isn’t home right now and is out of town. Maybe you can drop it off.. On a later day?”

Jenna’s smile faded a little as she nodded, “Of course, let Y/N know I visited.”

They nodded as they gave her a hug and closed the door, Jenna left with the beautiful daffodils in her hands.

10/29

jenna<3: hi baby, i came to drop off some flowers as a thank you, you weren’t there, your parents said you were out of town<3.

sweet Y/N: hi gorgeous, i’m sorry i wasn’t there, i wish i was so I could pick you up in my arms and hugged you until the next day.

jenna<3: me too princess, i love you

sweet Y/N: i love you so so much

11/4, one week after.

Jenna brings her flowers that she got for you a few days back, they were a little wilted, but just as pretty as ever. She picks them up and changes the water, gently grasping it and walking to meet you.

She wore your sweater before leaving her house.

This time she didn’t go to your parent’s house.

The weather was colder as she wrapped your sweater over herself more, sniffling.

The grass was pretty, flowers were everywhere as if she were in a meadow.

She placed the daffodils against the surface of your grave with shaky hands.

As much as she tried to smile, she couldn’t.

“Why couldn’t you have just told me you were going to slip away from my fingers? Why didn’t you tell me that you had an incurable brain tumor? Why did you have to pass away in front of my eyes as you held my hand?” She whispered, her voice cracking.

She knew why you had asked her to read the letter you had gotten her a week after her birthday.

first page

Happy birthday to my sweet angel, if you’re reading this, we both know I’m no longer here with you anymore. The pretty sunsets that appear every evening are always a trace that I’m still lingering here with you. I’m sorry I never told you. I wish I could, but I didn’t want to ruin your birthday, I wanted to make you so happy and I couldn’t bear the thought of telling you. So I didn’t. I know you took my favorite sweater the first time you ever wore it, so I told my parents to give all of my sweaters to you so you can hold them and my scent can comfort you whenever you miss me. I had bought a ring for you, I wanted to marry you, you made me happy. I wanted to spend my whole life with you. The ring reminds me of you. It reminded me of us. And even though I’m no longer here to marry you, I want to give it to you as a present to wear to remind you that I’ll love you and I’ll always be holding your hand. I wish I could pick you up in my arms and hug you forever. But I can’t. I remember when we were little kids and I scraped my knee on the concrete when we were biking. You had held me in your arms and kissed the wound, telling me that you would kiss it better. As much as I’m an open wound and your kisses heal me, they can’t heal me this time. But over time, your kisses will heal your wounds of me. Till you finally look up at the sky at the sunset and smile. I love you.

Jenna sobs against the railing of your hospital bed as she hugs you tight, your eyes barely open.

“D-don’t go.” She says, her voice below a whisper as she wants to just cradle you and kiss it better.

She wishes she could kiss it better. The only thing she could do was climb into your hospital bed, holding your weak body in hers.

She caresses your cheek as you look at her, sniffling a little, “I’m sorry.”

She gives you a tearful smile, sobbing, “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

Your hair was down as she caressed it, the beeping of the monitor slowing.

Her hand held yours, holding it so tightly so you’ll never let go.

You looked up at her, the smallest smile forming as you whispered.

“I love you too. I love you so much. I’ll love you so much.”

Your eyes close, as much as Jenna loved spending time with you, this was the worst memory she could’ve ever experienced.

She kisses your forehead as you keep whispering “I love you.” Till it stops.

Your breathing slows, till you exhale your very last breath, your hand slipping away from her fingers, your body going limp in her arms as she lets out a gut wrenching sob.

#jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x fem!reader #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x y/n

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katz-chow · 7 months

Text

100 letters just for me...

synopsis: distance makes the heart ache and yet, it still grows fonder. gets extremely harder when you're forced back a few decades and are forced to wait for the mail to come every morning. aka: what their letters are like.

a/n: there's certain homecoming aspects within it, just keep thinking about that lately with the US' descion to deploy soldiers to the Middle East, thank god there's only soldiers and not seamen or corpsmen just yet... i am getting worried though for my sake and my friends.

i also am very happy with my headcanons for their handwritings and how serious they are with these love letters too. i feel like i really did capture them.

john price & his darling spouse his letters are short, usually a page; sometimes there's a back too. he really hates writing to you because somehow, he just can't tell you all the things he wants to, his hand just won't let him write it. gosh, his vows weren't even written out, just bullet points on a note card and him just rambling on. the paper always smells like cigar smoke and he somehow stains it with coffee by accident or spills water on it. you also think he uses his work memo pad to write these letters to you; the pages are yellow, thinned, and fuzzy at the edges

johnny "soap" mactavish & his bonnie...and fiance to be? he always has his journal with him, so i think he straight up just writes in it with doodles, pressed flowers, and stickers that he finds in his stuff. loves when you put cute little stickers on your return letters and he feels bad when he doesn't have any on yours. he found these smileys at a gas station, and although it's not as cute as your cute animal ones, it really brightens up the bleak pages. he tears the page out slowly, sometimes a word gets torn off by accident. he folds the page up and puts it in the envelope along with some trinkets, like more pressed flowers or a paperclip heart or maybe even a postcard.

simon "ghost" riley & his lovie baby keeps his letters short and vague. it's really just a sign of life for your sake of mind. he's never been good with the sappy, romantic stuff. he writes early in the morning after him and price goes over the agenda for the day. he tries really hard to keep the paper pristine and hardly crumbled to make sure it looks good for you. he smears the pen ink sometimes. he'll write about the adventures that he's getting into, but he mainly focuses on his friends messing around while also mentioning about the terrorists he's killed that week.

kyle "gaz" garrick & the chase for his lovebug my headcanon for kyle is that he loves bugs, especially beetles. it started when he was a kid and his dad told him that bugs are just tiny little souls and that humans have the capacity to be kind. so he loves bugs, especially his lovebug. he also loves stickers and know you love them too. it's a good change of the neutral color scheme of his environment, so he always keeps stickers on hand whenever he's deployed. i think he writes before he goes to bed because then he can fall asleep thinking about you

phllip graves & his cowpoke phillip graves has a ranch somewhere, probably in texas. he has farmhands that help around the ranch, mostly gives you easy work like feeding and cooking while he takes the more tedious jobs like cleaning and maintenance around the land. he sits down and writes his letter whenever he feels a surge of feelings missing you. mostly it's in the evening but sometimes he writes them late at night. also the type of guy to surprise you, but within reason. doesn't want to overwhelm you, so he'll come home a few days before when he said he was gonna- things like that

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