#this absolutely took me out for some reason
Text
⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader
Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania
˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2
˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 (keep reading)
Alastor lets you leave the hotel! Together! For soup. Later, your plans to make Alastor lose his obsession backfire. But like, in a hot way so you’re not that mad about it. A+ for effort?
˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦
「warnings/promises: smut, I once again misuse a fucking prayer in a sacrilegious way, soup, spoon feeding, Angel texts, so much cum, bondage, tentacles, just good ole fashion fucking in the radio station, not quite dubcon but Alastor doesn’t really listen, hell has twitter and lets be real it’s just normal twitter, giant Alastor, Horse Luci」
Minors DNI ♥️ 🧹lovingly
You finally managed to leave the hotel. It was of course with Alastor at your side, microphone pressing into the small of your back like a third arm. It was as if he worried you’d just turn around and run.
He opened every door, pulled out your chair, and when your left hand shook and dropped your food he took on the task of feeding you. It was embarrassing, to say the very least. The sinners in the restaurant staring, a brave few filming or typing furiously on their phones.
You got a buzz on your own cell, a gift from Angel when he realized Alastor wouldn’t let you speak with others alone.
He texted a link to a post on some hell site, to a photo of you right then, at that exact moment, being spoon fed by the radio demon. You considered smashing your head into the table until you blacked out. If you got up and left would you make it back to the hotel before someone realized you weren’t a sinner? You were absolutely terrified of someone noticing you as heaven sent.
Heaven kicked? Heaven thrown. Yeah that one felt right.
“You need to eat. You can’t heal like this.” Alastor sounded concerned, but you fought the urge to care.
He hadn’t apologized to Husk, but Husk did say Alastor seemed to avoid eye contact which was basically a gift to him. Alastor had come to your room to dress you the next day as he always did, neither of you mentioning the day before. The hall was magically pristine by the time you left.
A tiny sliver of you thought he felt embarrassed. But decades of experience told you that Mania didn’t afford embarrassment, the stricken couldn’t be truly manic if something like that was holding them back.
Maybe it had been such a shallow cut he hadn’t gotten the full punch of Mania?
Another attempt to feed yourself, slowly bringing your spoon to your mouth, “You know when I heal I am going to finish my task and leave, right?”
An odd laugh, a non-existent tear wiped away, “Adorable. No. I promise you, that won’t happen.”
“Alastor.” You put the spoon down with a clink.
“I love when you say my name. May I offer you more reasons to hold it in your mouth?”
“Al-,” you groaned, “I can’t stay forever.”
He hummed, a show of pretending to think about what you said, “Wrong! You can. And I argue, you will.”
You tried again with the spoon, regretting soup. Your appetite had been shot for awhile and it seemed easy enough. Wrong. Again. There was a constant tremble to your hands since arriving. Perhaps experiencing pain for the first time was rattling your body so much that it couldn’t cope. “Why would I ever do that? This is literal hell.”
Alastor leaned over, taking the spoon from you with ease and bringing it to your mouth, “Because I’ll make you understand it’s where you belong. They didn’t appreciate you,” his grin widened, “Not like I do. Like I can, if you’d let me.”
Annoyed and flustered, you took the help to eat. “Thank you.” A spoonful, “How can you say that though? I’m the one and only Cupid.”
“Actually, no. You’re not. You are just the current incarnation. They’ll replace you.”
You regretted telling him that. They could. Just replace you, that is. There was nothing stopping them. You stared into your soup, lips curling down.
“Don’t look so defeated. I’ll make you happy, for eternity.”
Your eyes rolled. “When do you plan on starting that eternal happiness?”
You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could see his hand slow, then become completely still. Had you wounded him?
He pivoted, “Doesn’t Cupid have wings?”
Another spoonful, “Of course.”
Alastor waited while you took a drink, determined to make you eat the entire bowl, “Where are they?”
A pause. Where were they? You hadn’t realized you couldn’t feel them. They weren’t everpresent, but their weight still sat between your shoulder blades at all times. Always. Normally. But now?
“You don’t know? That’s troubling.” Alastor read your face with ease.
You shot him a look. Stop doing that. Stop replying to unspoken thoughts.
“Apologies.”
Another text before you could snap at him.
You slid the phone away from Alastor, face red. “Do you think, honestly, if you’re capable of it, that I’ll ever be able to go home?”
His hand came to your neck, running over your collarbone, “For the record, I’ve never once lied to you.” You rolled your eyes, fine, okay, “With your heavenly body, even as weakened as you have been here, I’d say just a few more weeks.”
You turned the phone face down.
“Good…that’s good. If you plan on winning me over, your countdown has started.” You pushed the soup away, appetite gone. The idea of never returning to heaven made you nauseous. He slid it back to you, face stern despite the smile he wore.
The walk home was quiet, your stomach full of unwanted soup.
No, not home. The hotel.
He usually spoke a lot, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. His hand replaced the staff, settled on your back as he guided you. You could feel the warmth through your clothes. How could he be so hot and not be sweating? Another sinner thing?
The thought hadn’t left you by the time you came into view of the hotel gates. Maybe you had been replaced. How would you know? Maybe that was why your wings were gone. Surely there was some way to communicate from hell.
You found Lucifer as soon as you returned, unbothered by Alastor’s presence, “I need to speak to heaven.”
Alastor was saying something but you had gotten quite good at tuning him out. Lucifer snapped back, the men quickly devolving into arguing again.
“Lucifer.” You said it with your chest.
His apple topped cane whirled, a golden circle appearing with a crystal clear image of heaven’s glowing gates through its center.
A loud noise erupted behind you, a high pitched static wail, familiar tentacles flailed and a long shadow of a growing Alastor stretched across the wall. His back was bent into the lobby ceiling, perhaps three stories tall now.
The sounds of magic popping as Lucifer shapeshifted accented the sounds of horror with that of whimsy. You approached the portal, those black tendrils slithering around your ankles but you easily slipped out of them as their owner's energy was pulled to full demon Lucifer slamming into him.
Almost, you could see it.
A monstrously large hand came down, shaking the hotel and knocking various objects off their perches in the lobby. Charlie and Vaggie, someone else you’d come to enjoy the company of, flew down the stairs.
The common area was filled with the sounds of yelling and breaking glass. You crawled over his hand as Alastor’s fingers curled around your body gingerly. He tried to pull you from the gateway but while he slowed, Lucifer now a flying horse kicking him in the face, your outstretched hand strained to enter the portal.
Your fingers grazed the doorway, the air around the lobby fizzing and warping as a desperate screech tore from Alastor’s wide and impossibly thin chest. The grip tightened around you. A static whine threatened to pop your eardrums.
As your fingertips pressed past the ring, they stopped. Something impenetrable and unseen between you and heaven.
Alastor must have noticed it too, his grip loosening as you clamored on hand and knees to the portal. Your palm ran over the doorway, searching for a hole or seam to rip. Just under your skin was your home, bright and clean and painless. A tiny ‘no’ fell from your lips, smacking at the barrier with your open hand.
Alastor returned to his normal, still terrifying, height. Lucifer came forward, their fight losing motivation, his small hand on your shoulder as you sat on the hotel lobby floor. He closed the portal and apologized, “Sorry kid. Let’s try again when you finish that task, okay?”
Alastor’s arms went under your back and knees and lifted you off the ground. You didn’t resist or argue. Your eyes were unfocused, vision blurry with tears, as you were carried past the others. Vaggie looked ashamed, which was odd given she had more character than half the archangels could muster together between them.
There existed permissions for who could enter the heavenly realm, a list meticulously kept. They’d removed you from that roster. They’d locked the doors behind you.
You felt good. The final week of your first, and hopefully last, month in hell was marked with taking off your sling for the first time.
A good three day wallow in a metaphorical cave helped you emerge with renewed vigor. Of course they locked the gates behind you, otherwise you’d just go home. That made sense. That made sense.
That had to make sense.
Deciding to take a risk and attempt to expedite your homecoming, you and Angel made plans. Like a teenager in a party movie you snuck out of the hotel when Alastor was asleep. Well, so you assumed. You weren’t really sure what he did behind closed doors.
Angel brought you somewhere he felt people would be receptive to discussing love and talking to angelic beings, and admittedly also very high.
Sling off but still being as gentle as you could, you leaned across the small standing-only table to talk-shout with a rather cute aquatic demon. An eel? Or maybe some kind of water-fond lizard? It didn’t matter, his glasses were cute, both of you a little drunk, and you quite good at saying the right things.
And all of the right things were said, and you felt maybe if nothing else you’d enjoy your first demonic lay, when the power shut off.
Everyone filed out, bummed and bothered to find most of the neighborhood shrouded in darkness.
Angel tapped your shoulder and pointed up the hill to the hotel, radio station a glow with a red light, “Ya know, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Nothing to do but to stare, you stayed quiet and angry while he flagged down a taxi knowing the trip would be fast without traffic lights, “Guess Daddy Dead Eyes is calling you back.”
Anger grew and grew in your chest as you were charioted home.
Jesus, to the hotel. Stop doing that.
You burst into the radio station tower, Alastor barely reacting. Until, that is, you marched up to his desk.
Pinned before you could react, his body pressing into yours as your ass ran up onto the desk.
“Sneaking out like a child?” His voice was low, soft, unnatural. “Why do you intentionally torment me?”
“I have done,” you tried to move but only succeeded in rubbing your stomach against his crotch, “no such thing. You’re just possessed.”
He responded by pressing forward, no accident, as his eyes narrowed on you, “Correct. I am a man possessed.” When he rolled himself into you, an alcohol primed groan escaped your mouth.
“I thought you didn’t care about those things,” your eyes flashed to his lap pushing into you and then back to his glare.
“You’re my exception that proves the rule. If you’re so desperate for attention there’s no need to leave the hotel to find it.” His smile was poisoned by the simmering anger in his eyes, “Dear.”
It was the alcohol and annoyance at losing a chance with glasses-man, Jake or Jark or something not worth a scrabble move, that made you sneer a reply, “Not yours. I am a divine creature, demon. Your body would just filthy me.” Nose up, feeling absolutely better than him in every sense, you pushed him off and left.
That was easy. Wow.
Proud of yourself, you made it to the elevator before you realized— illusions. Perhaps his illusion was the idea sex with you was worth the effort, more so than others. He said it himself before, he didn’t care for such things. Perhaps if you could show him it was as boring and unattractive as sex with anyone else could be, maybe you could shatter his mania with disappointment.
You pulled a u-turn and heel-toed right back into his station. Giving him no time to react this time, you climbed onto his chair and straddled him, “On second thought, try your worst. Let’s get it out of your system and move on.” You ground your hips down. He only smiled up at you, amused. Taking his hands you set them on your waist, giving him permission to handle you, “Claim me. Make everyone know I’m yours.” He didn’t move. You were starting to feel embarrassed, had he goaded you just to make you look stupid? He would. But your kind invented the tension before sex between enemies, “If you can.”
That did it. His hair visibly stood on end, “It is not a matter of ability. It’s about-”
“If you can’t, that’s fine. No need to start lying to me now. But don’t say I never gave you the opportunity.” You smirked, hoping he enjoyed a taste of his own sardonic medicine, and lifted yourself off of him.
His hands came to life on your hips, helping you rise and then flipping you onto your stomach. Your arms pushed radio transmitters and various old timey fuckery away to make room for yourself.
Those talons slipped up the center of your bottoms and crooked into your underwear. Long and strong, his fingers felt you. “Is this a perk of a heavenly body or is this,” two fingers dipped into your already wet and relaxed entrance, “all for me?”
You fought the urge to respond with anything other than malice, “Don’t flatter yourself.”
In heaven no one needs preparation, no one needs lube or required stretching to keep things whole and fun. You would love to say that quality followed you down, but unfortunately, like perfect health and angelic wings, it had not.
You decided to chalk it up to the alcohol. Always an easy excuse to offer yourself.
Alastor’s hands pulled away and up, finding the place just above the Rosie’s Emporium clothing tag and ripping the bottoms and underwear clean in half.
You bit into your hand to keep your excited shriek to yourself but unfortunately couldn’t stop your legs kicking up. His laugh echoed off the many windows.
Why couldn’t he be worse at this? Why couldn’t Alastor be clumsy and meek and awkward at sex? No, the menace you’d gotten almost used to was confident and commanding, you felt yourself twitching in anticipation. People have a misconception that Cupid was a chaste and wholly emotional creature, which was false. First of all, Cupids varied based on the incarnation. Just like other heavenly creatures their personality was varied and unpredictable.
Personally, you weren’t suited for the job. If you were honest. Why couldn’t your quiver just be full of Eros and Agape? Even of those two, sexual love was more your speed. Romance was fine and lovely but perhaps you’d gotten a little jaded.
Luckily for you, fucking Cupid was something many winners had on their afterlife bucket lists and you rarely found yourself with an empty bed.
Your attention was stolen back, Alastor’s clawed hand grabbing at the flesh of your thighs, “Oops.”
Focus. Why were you doing this again? Your system was metabolizing the alcohol now, and with the air cooling off your exposed sex, everything was awash with lust. Did you want to diminish his mania or were you just horny?
Would it really be so bad to admit you were both?
Deep breath, you remembered. Boring. Banal. The plan was to be motionless and not provide him any satisfying sounds. Don’t touch him, don’t try to push back on him, no tricks or fancy shit. The sooner he was over this you could make someone trust in love and fuck off home.
Seconds turned to a minute, your ass in the air as Alastor’s hands pawed at your skin. You wanted to ask what the hold up was, but you didn’t want to give away how much you were needing him to just fuck you already.
“Do you miss flying?”
You looked around, were you so drunk you missed an entire chunk of conversation while thinking about how to hide thirsting for his dick?
“Yes…?” True statement.
“Allow me to help with that.”
There was a moment you half expected to be chucked out the window, but almost worse than that, you heard him seat himself in the chair again before your body was picked up and off the desk. “Alastor! I don’t-,” Hands flailing, feet moving around the best they could, you struggled against the familiar tentacles he had command over. “I do not allow it!”
Your hands batted at them fruitlessly. One came under your knees and folded them to either side of your chest before wrapping around your waist twice, a second across your chest like a seatbelt snug and secure. Had you been on the floor you could almost be mistaken for taking a deeply devout praying stance. Only your arms were free to move, the position making you open and incapable of taking back any semblance of control.
“Alastor!” Stretching, you could almost reach the edge of his work table, but your fingers and toes curled in as you were seated on something hot and stiff. Your lips quivered, desperate to keep silent as you were pulled down onto him. Reaching back your hands found his stomach, raking your nails across the skin in need of anything to grip.
When you heard him chuckle to himself, you knew you were already losing. Plan backfiring entirely. You pulled your hands back to your center, taking ahold of the tentacle nestled between and across your chest.
“Heavenly Father,” his voice was quiet but sure, your eyes so wide you worried you’d get stuck making a permanent face of utter shock and despair, “bless us and these thy gifts which we receive from thy bountiful goodness, through your name, our lord.” You were lifted off his lap, Alastor’s swollen tip dragging along your unstretched walls as he said the Lord's prayer, “Amen.” Pulled back down before the second syllable even reached your ears, you cut into your bottom lip as a scream bounced around behind your teeth.
Heathen.
“I would think you of all people knew how to finish a prayer.” Alastor chided, “What will heaven say?”
If heaven knew you were being impaled midair on an overlord’s cock, they’d create a second hell for you to rule. Population of none. Except maybe some horny nuns.
As he found a pace he seemed happy with, slow and long draws out of you, you realized how fucked you were. Looking down, you could see one of his hands was settled at the base of his cock, those long fingers draped down his balls. The other hand was unseen and unfelt.
“Alastor.” You tried to sound stern.
“Oh I doubt heaven knows my name. Not yet at least.” He sounded unbothered, almost unaffected. “Not until I’ve spirited away their little angel of love.”
You were almost insulted at how easily he could speak despite being buried so far into your wet, hot cunt. Maybe you had been spoiled in heaven, people usually so turned on by the idea of you that they were coming undone as soon as you were wrapped around them or in them in whatever way you decided.
A broken chant of “be bored, be bored,” in your mind as Alastor hummed, that mystery clawed hand falling at your back. Biting your lip, you tried to think about anything other than how full he was making you. Did the glasses man at the club have a cock as thick as Alastor’s? Would you have been as satisfied as you were now? Every down thrust made the tuft of fur at this base press against your ass. Soft. You wanted to grind against it, the idea pulling a wanton moan out.
Fuck. Failing to distract yourself because you got distracted. It was so hard to think about anything else than your body being pushed open again and again. The blood on your lips was sweet, licking them clean before finding a new spot to bite down on. Quiet.
“Ah, are you giving me the silent treatment?”
Could this son of a bitch read minds? Could sinners read minds?!
If you didn’t reply, that was confirmation. But if you did reply, you were breaking your goal of not talking.
“Just…,” you took a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be rough, “I’m not really feeling like making any noise.” A shrug, the best you could manage at least while bound and held aloft in the space above his lap. Pretending this was normal and boring was a feat. “I’m not a vocal person during sex. I prefer to just lie there and get serviced. Don’t mind me.”
That sounded awful. Perfect.
“Oh? Well then, I guess I’ll not worry myself.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Less perfect. He began to hum a little tune as your body, partially upright, was now being tilted forward at a 45 degree angle from his lap. His cock was bending in you, head pressing harshly up into your walls.
Heart beating so fast you felt a dizzy spell hit you, that renewed anticipation almost as arousing as the sensations.
His humming continued like he was reading the paper. You’d never ridden a roller coaster, but you’d seen many people do it before and this was surely the same feeling; right at the peak before the drop. When the ride operator stills you and lets you stare down at the height before you. Your stomach was flipping, excitement tinged with fear.
You were pulled off his dick until you felt the bell of his red tip get just outside your entrance. Was he going to pull out entirely?
No. He pulled you down by way of shadows and fucked you just a couple inches into your cunt. His head was dragging out past your tight hole and smashing back in, directly hitting your g-spot. The spongy bundle of nerve endings was dented with every thrust.
You weren’t used to having your entrance stimulated so much, the skin luckily becoming slick as your own wetness was fucked out of you.
“That feels weird, please.” How quickly you gave up. “Stop pulling out like that.”
A considerate sigh, “But you’ve gotten so wet, my dear. You’re dripping down my thighs already. I don’t think you want me to stop.”
Could you cum like this? You felt like you could, maybe if you just…you quickened your breath, faster and faster. Your stomach heaving, you felt the crescendo of pleasure.
“On second thought!” He stopped.
Your toes wiggled, hands gripping the tentacle on your chest. Quiet. Shh. Don’t argue. Boring. Don’t care. The building orgasm waned, you felt your blood pressure lower. This really was hell.
Alastor’s head was just sitting in you, burning hot and throbbing. You were sure you could feel his heartbeat.
You two were locked in a standoff. Someone had to let on they were enjoying themselves; Alastor releasing pent up frustration with your attitude toward his affections, you chasing down a rare penetration-only orgasm.
An idea struck you, a way to hopefully antagonize him and bruise his pride enough to force him into your hand (pussy), “Thank God. I think it’s almost my bedtime.”
Alastor’s smile strained, a twitch coming over his left eye. A trap. But the idea of letting you down and off of him seemed far worse than the small defeat you were offering. “Allow me to rock you to sleep then, sweetheart.”
Success! Shit!
You reached out, the angle of your punishment allowing you to grab the edge of the table and grip. Alastor’s annoyance translated to an inhuman pace, him pulling you off entirely from his cock before bringing you back down. He was positively slipping in and out of you, your lower lips puffy and soaked around him. This degree of wetness was something you couldn’t remember feeling outside of marathon sessions.
When your hands tightened, a shock of pain tore down your arm, a scream bringing Alastor to a sudden stop. “My collar…” Pain was apparently not a kink you enjoyed, though you briefly wondered if heaven allowed it at all.
You couldn’t even fuck properly. You couldn’t do anything right. All you managed to do was fail. A sting to your eyes as the air hit your welling tears. Did humans feel this pain often? Your body was righted and turned, you looked down to Alastor’s face as you were brought to him. He looked so soft, usual smirk a sweet toothless smile, “I told you to keep the sling on, didn’t I?” He looked happy.
Your arms found his shoulders and your head came to his chest, “Shut up and finish already.” He didn’t release you from the binding, instead pulling the right arm under the hold of his slender tendril to keep it safe and out of the way. His hands were both at the base of his cock while you were gently riding him. Well, “you”. He was still using his powers to manipulate your body on and off of him. Alastor’s fingers were spreading your arousal down his shaft and along his tightening balls, if you had looked at his face you’d have seen a weakened man there, furrowed brows and lust drunk eyes. But you didn’t look, trying to hide the same expression on your own features.
Left hand free, no need to hold yourself up, you made lazy, and you hoped subtle, circles around your clit. You weren’t sure if this was a total failure or not, but you could finish and say something good came of it. You, specifically.
Things were quiet, though. The loudest sound in the room was the wet pop coming from where his body was meeting your sopping hole. His breathing was fast and soft, sighing when he bottomed out. Another bite to your lip, a few more deep hits to your cervix, and you enjoyed a small but satisfying release. The hand on you stayed through, riding out tiny waves of pleasure as you twitched around him. When you felt his release you sighed, you did it. You think. Maybe. Regardless.
As he slowly lifted you, you considered if your legs could hold you—
Up you went and back down you fell as he took a new, quicker pace.
“A-Ah-lastor?! You,” you bit your tongue, “already finished?”
You had made a mistake earlier that you hadn’t even realized. But Alastor had been holding it between his sharp teeth, “How many times?”
Absolutely no idea what he was talking about, you gasped out a reply, “What!?”
“How many times should I fill you before you’re too filthy to return to heaven, do you think?” He couldn’t be serious. “Three? Five? You see, the advantage of using my tentacles is that I don't get tired.”
Oh, but he was serious.
The battle was entirely forfeit somewhere around the third time he flooded you with his seed.
“These aren’t the usual screams I enjoy from my studio, but I’m not averse to them.”
When he felt you’d learned whatever lesson you were supposed to be taking in by the pump full, you were finally removed from him. He covered your lower half with his coat around your waist. It would be lying to say you were surprised to find his wide shoulders and small waist wasn’t just an illusion of his well tailored, yet oddly torn, coat. He was annoyingly attractive. Who gave him the right?
Your legs gave out when you tried to stand, warm hands pulling under your armpits to get you back on your feet. As much as you wanted to push him away, you were still a little tipsy and your legs still getting used to full blood flow. His arm held out for you to use for stability, you took it and wobbled silently to the floor you both lived on. Before you left the elevator you looked down and saw a line of white dripping down your inner leg. Took longer than you expected, honestly.
When you turned to the right to go to your door, his arm came around your waist and shepherded you to his room on the left. You shot him a look, asking what he thought he was doing.
He laughed, “Oh, after tonight’s little escapade, you’re moving!” He opened his door and gestured for you to enter, “Welcome home, my dear.”
What was worse than a failure? A catastrophe? This was that.
“Now come on, we need to get you cleaned up.” A hand patted softly at your ass before ushering you inside.
He did just that, wiping you down and undressing you before settling you into his bed. Exhausted and sore, you decided to argue after sleep.
When you awoke, you checked your shredded bottoms for your phone. Nothing.
An answer was found when you mentioned it to Alastor, who asked what you were searching for so early in the morning, “Perhaps someone at that venue you enjoyed has it? Too bad you can’t go back and ask.” He was resting his back against the headboard, you realized he’d unbuttoned his shirt quite a bit. “Oh well!”
How was he always making you scream?
ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist
∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):
@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,
@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,
🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan
@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re
@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp
#alastor x reader#alastor smut#alastor x you#alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#smut
422 notes
·
View notes
Text
CRUISE CONTROL.
pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader
summary: with your parents arguing and the volume growing increasingly loud, you text your boyfriend matt to take you on a drive to clear your mind.
warnings: established relationship, use of y/n lol, parents arguing, fluff, reckless driving if u squint
a/n: i was driving home one night. really sad. and wanted to stick my head out the window. and got this idea. it's litterally just a little drabble sorry it's kinda bad but i think it's cute lowkey ANYWAY ENJOY
it was times like these where i allowed my mind to wander. staring at my ceiling, led lights on their lowest setting and alex g desperately trying to make its way into my head at full volume through my earbuds. no matter how high i turned it up, nothing tuned out the sounds of screaming and clashing and banging on the other side of the wall.
the deep circles under my eyes were particularly prominent about now. no matter how hard i tried, i couldn't seem to fall asleep.
the distortion in my earbuds due to the loud volume began to annoy me and i ripped them out by the cord for some relief, but i was immediately reminded of the sound of my parents.
i quickly reached for my phone and unlocked it, going into my messages and finding matt. i began typing, attempting to get my mind away from the sound of my parents screaming.
i dropped my phone in my lap as i took a deep breath.
now for the hard part.
i carefully sat up and made my way to my closet to grab one of matt's hoodies that he had left over and pulled it over myself, keeping my pajama pants on.
i carefully slipped on some socks and checkered vans before making my way to my bedroom door.
a deep sigh escaped my lips.
gently, i pushed the door opened and tip-toed out of my room, ignoring the increasing volume of my parents shouting. i flew down the stairs and to the front door, biting my lip harshly as i slipped out and quickly shut the door behind me.
silence.
i pressed my back against the front door and slid down it, my hands covering my face as i took in a deep breath and let out a shaky breath.
all that i could hear was the soft breeze and the sound of my breathing.
the outdoors is such a peaceful place, i thought. i should come out here more often.
the sound of tires against the gravel caused me to lift my head and quickly scramble to my feet, making my way to the van in front of my home.
matt met me halfway and pulled me into a tight hug, gently resting his head on top of mine and allowing a hand to rub my upper back gently in circles.
"you okay?" he questioned softly, his voice so gentle as if i were going to crack if he spoke any louder.
"'m okay." i mumbled against his chest, gently pulling away and smiling at him reassuringly.
matt's eyes scanned my expression, and he nodded softly as he caressed my cheek and gently took me by my hand. "let's go for a ride, okay?"
-
nights like these were my favorite.
nights where matt gave me the aux, his hand on my thigh as we drove absolutely everywhere but at the same time, nowhere. flying down the road going heinous speeds, no set destination, matt and i simply had each other and that was what mattered to us most in these moments.
with all of the windows down and the music all the way up, i bit my lip as i smiled at matt.
a thought ran through my mind that i couldn't seem to resist.
my hand gently ran over matt's that was on my leg, taking his hand in my own and setting it to the side.
matt shot me a glance in confusion. "you okay?"
i smiled and nodded as i unbuckled my seatbelt.
"y/n-"
"don't worry," i smiled as i sat up and pressed a button, opening the sunroof and sitting up.
for the sake of matt's sanity, i gently held his hand and lifted my head out of the window, smiling as i felt the wind immediately hit my skin and my hair. my eyes felt like they desperately needed to close, but i didn't care.
most would think this is psycho, or i look stupid.
for some reason, each gust of air that brushed past me felt like a wave of relief.
about fifteen seconds went by and i sat back down in the car, smiling at matt who couldn't help but giggle at my expression.
"you feel better?" he questioned, and i nodded happily. "can i fix your hair?" he chuckled, and i nodded as my face grew warm.
matt, after pulling into a gas station and parking by a gas pump, gently reached over and took my stands between his fingers as he flattened them and fixed the stray ones. he gently ran his finger against my cheek and smiled at me, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to my lips.
i smiled against his lips and gently squeezed his hand, our fingers tightly intertwined, before he pulled away and smiled at me.
"go get your gas, i'll be waiting here for you." i whispered.
matt nodded as he rolled the windows down and pressed one more quick peck to your cheek before opening the door and getting out.
i let out a deep breath as i looked at my fingers, smiling to myself.
matt always knew how to make me feel better. whether it be talking through emotions with me or as simple as just existing beside me, he was the best.
matt leaned into the car, his arms against the bottom of the rolled down window as he smiled at me warmly, and i turned to him.
"wanna spend the night tonight?" he questioned.
it was tempting, but i knew i needed to be home tonight. if my parents were going to be angry at me any night, it would be tonight.
"i'll go home tonight, but i would love to tomorrow if the offer still stands." i smiled.
he held out his pinkie with a soft smile, and i locked my pinkie with his.
"the offer is always standing for you, y/n."
-
i sighed as i undid my seatbelt.
"you gonna be okay?"
i turned to matt and nodded with a soft smile, beginning to get out of the car. matt did the same and walked with me to my doorstep, gently taking both of my hands in his once we arrived.
"call me if you need anything, or anyone to talk to.. i'll be here, okay?" he smiled.
i nodded as i let out a deep breath and leaned into matt, pulling him into a tight hug.
"thank you matt." i whispered, and matt smiled as he hugged me back tightly, hands running against my back again.
"of course, my love." he bit his lip as he pulled away and smiled at me, leaning down for one last kiss.
i hummed softly against his lips before we both pulled away.
"drive safe." i told him before opening my front door and stepping inside.
the silence was loud.
i assume my parents fell asleep.
i made my way up the stairs carefully and let out a deep sigh as i kicked off my shoes and laid against my sheets.
sometimes some loud music and company is all you need, and tonight helped me with my loud thoughts and parents. but it also helped me realize how much matt truly means to me.
i couldn't be more grateful.
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#matthew x reader#matt x reader#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fluff#fluff#matt fluff#matt x reader fluff
104 notes
·
View notes
Text
part two-ish? of this.
SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X FEM!READER
cw idk cursing? NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.
a/n like, two people asked for more, so ..... voilà.
masterlist | taglist
once you start dating simon, you gradually ease up on the mean nicknames and glaring. your stares aren't as mean as they were when he spilt that beer all over you, or when he took you to what was the possible worst date of your life just to piss you off (don't worry, he made up later).
he doesn't fully escape your wrath, though. he forgot to pick you up from the grocery store in the middle of january, when you had specifically asked him to keep an eye on his phone and wait for your call. he ended up falling asleep while half-watching a documentary and petting your cat.
you had to walk home, which wasn't that bad, considering you thankfully weren't carrying many bags, but you were still super angry with him. although, most of the anger dissipated when you saw him (barely fitting) dosed off on your tiny couch (how would you ever stay mad, he looked adorable), you did hit him in the head violently to wake him up. then purposely gave him the cold shoulder when he tried helping you organise the groceries, accidentally knocking the milk carton's sharp edges on his exposed bicep.
despite the rare occasions when he frustrates you, you're softer with him now. still have the same fire in your eyes and bitchy tone in your voice, but it's hardly ever directed at him.
soap is usually the target of your never-ending wrath. when he teases his lieutenant about how pussy-whipped he is, he gets a snarky comment back which makes kyle cough to hide his chuckles.
"oi, lass, sometimes i think ye donae like me a'all!"
"that's right, i don't!" you'll reply with such a serious tone, johnny has to pause, mouth hanging open.
you'll blankly stare at him for a few seconds and his gaze will flicker from your face to simon's, who's also staring at him unemotionallly, while his fingers play with the end of your dress. he doesn't speak for a few seconds, trying to figure out if you're really serious or not. kyle does his best not to burst out laughing, hiding his smile by drinking, and price just shakes his head and turns his attention to the tv.
the corner of your lip cracks a smile, and soap visibly relaxes. "ye canae do tha' t'me, bonnie. ye hurt me feelings!" he clutches his chest dramatically.
"then you better stop poking fun at my boyfriend, sergeant. or i'll beat you up."
soap raises his hands in surrender, and you feel said boyfriend, burying his nose in your hair and kissing the top of your head.
"my lovely savior."
what simon really liked about you, from your very first meeting, was your ability to yell at anyone (if they wronged you in a way) with no fear. just absolute rage.
there have been times men tried hitting on you, and with simon gone from your side for whatever reason, you have to put a stop to their advances alone.
some are understanding when you say you already have a boyfriend, others leave when you glare at them and call them dickheads for disrespecting a woman's choice, but then there are the annoying dumbfucks who just can't, for the life of them, take the hint.
"did your date ditch you?" you roll your eyes at his smug smirk. "i would never leave such a sexy lady alone, by the way."
you've had enough of the guy, for he hasn't stopped bothering you ever since simon stepped out of line to answer a work-related call. he's behind you, leaning in front to talk in your ear. you haven't even bothered turning around.
the place is crowded and you can't see simon from where you're standing. the lady, three people in front of you, is taking ages to order her movie snacks, and you really are starting to regret dragging him to the movies. you could've pirated it or something.
your leg is nervously tapping on the floor, a tight grip over simon's wallet, and pursed lips hiding gritted teeth. you're sure you look like happiness personified.
"you can sit with me and my friends, if you'd like. i'm sure they wouldn't mind a hot piece of arse such as yourself—" smack.
your slap is uncharacteristically loud and resonates in the room. heads turn, and the guy is frozen in his place, hand touching his burning cheek.
"would you shut the fuck up and take a fucking hint already?!" you try to control your voice, but the words come out as a shout. "for the last time, i have a fucking boyfriend. leave. me. alone."
before he can say anything, a familiar scent enters your nostrils. simon's hand wraps loosely around your shoulder. "what's goin' on 'ere?"
"this fucking pig won't leave me alone!" you take a step closer to the guy threateningly, but simon is quick to pull you back.
"i was just trying to make conversation, you bitch!" smack.
it all happens so fast, simon is barely able to grab you before you claw the guy's eyes out. his friends pull him outside as he throws curses at you, but you just give him the middle finger and allow simon to drag you up to the popcorn section.
"i leave you alone for one minute, lovie..." simon whispers to you.
you shrug. "he brought it upon himself. i was nice by not answering, but he called me a hot piece of arse! and i just had it up to here with him! unbelievable!"
"well, you are hot, and you have a nice arse." simon receives an elbow to the ribs.
"fuck off."
"c'mon, pretty girl, before you terrorise the rest of the cinema."
he finds your scrunched eybrows, flushed cheeks, and fiery gaze extremely hot. your height (compared to him) makes you storming out when angry, almost comical. adorable.
um....this got out of hand....idk.....
#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley fluff#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#ghost cod#ghost cod x reader#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#fluff#established relationship#frank writes
92 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Mountain Is You
Part 2 of 'Our Sun Is Setting'
Wasn't sure whether to do a second part because I didn't think it would be realistic, but then I thought who cares, this is fiction for a reason. Can confirm it's much lighter and softer than the last one, title is a Chance Peña song. (Sorry this took so long, I had a migraine that lasted literal days and it really knocked me for six)
Barcelona. Once a place that felt like home to you, yet now as you clamber into the back of your taxi outside of the airport, it's the same but different.
Same sun, different warmth. Same air, different atmosphere. Same airport, different kind of departure.
Same person tying you down to this city, different dynamic.
If you thought a lot could change in two days, you had no idea what could happen in eighteen months. Turns out, a lot could change too, but thankfully for the sake of your sanity, the mental blows were not so big and not so frequent this time around. You doubt you would be in this situation now, back in the city you love, if it wasn't for your grandparents. They welcomed you with open arms and endless amounts of baked goods as soon as they caught wind of you coming home.
For the first month you stayed with them, most of that time was spent in the spare bedroom they made up for you, not quite holding the confidence or will power to do much else other than feel sorry for yourself. Some days you would walk their dog with them, other days you wouldn't leave the room. Some days you would do as many chores possible for them as a thank you, other days your Grandmother would sit beside you up against the headboard whilst you lay beside her as she read her book out loud, one hand gently running through your hair as she went. Some days you'd all laugh about shared memories of your Mother, other days you'd cry into each other's arms.
Something clicked inside you along the way though. One day you just woke up with a certain determination, and the look on your Grandfather's face as you wandered into the kitchen at 7am was enough to force a few giggles out of you before ushering him to join you on an early morning walk. That was when you voiced your new thoughts to him.
"I think I'm going to start applying for jobs again soon. You know, get out of your hair a little bit." You said to him, smiling when he tutted and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
"Don't be ridiculous. We're happier than we have been in a while now that you're with us, sunshine." He replied honestly, hugging you into his side.
"I know. I'm happy too, but I do want a job. What job, I'm not sure yet, but I'm going to start looking."
"You don't have to pressure yourself though, okay? If you change your mind at any point, that's perfectly fine. Just do it at your own pace. If you would like, you could print off your CV for me and Granny to hand in to places."
"That's fine, Grandad, you don't have to." You laughed lightly at his suggestion, bringing your hand up to cover his that rested on your shoulder. "Everything is online nowadays."
"Of course. That rules me and Gran out the question then, in terms of advice." He grumbled jokingly, though his classic, cheeky smile rests on his face. "Absolutely no help for you there, sweetheart."
"I didn't think there would be any anyway. I've seen Grandma use the microwave." The pair of you laugh at that, before it falls silent as you walk along the cliff-top coastline. The tone of the conversation shifts a bit when you speak again. "I think I'm also going to start seeing a therapist. You know, for everything that's happened."
"Okay, love. Whatever is best for you." And that's all the reassurance you needed.
The job hunt would forever be an aspect of life you despised. But, two months later, you had secured a job within the local area that you chose to walk to most days, a piece of advice from your new therapist that at first you hated but soon it was your favourite part of your daily routine. Apart from when it rained, obviously.
Things were going well though, surprisingly well, and it set in one evening as you sat in the back garden, watching your grandparents gardening, that the choice you made a few months prior was the right one.
You had managed to keep a certain Spaniard out of your mind for most of the time after that first month of being away from her, until one night you got a notification on your phone.
Spain win the FIFA World Cup after a 1-0 victory against England!
What was the right move now? Text her to congratulate her? Or is no contact best for the time being? Would texting her give her false hope? This was arguably the biggest achievement of her career, her whole life, but as a figure of the past, was it right to dredge everything back up again at such a joyful time?
Your hands faltered over your still cracked phone screen, unsure what to do in such an unusual situation. There was no handbook on what to do if your ex-girlfriend, who you're still in love with and who (hopefully) still loves you too, wins the biggest trophy of her career, nor could a google search be any assistance. And unfortunately, as perfect as they are, your grandparents that had been married for over fifty years now may not be any help either.
So, the only decision you could land on, no matter how much you didn't like it, was to leave it.
Until your finger slipped and liked her celebratory Instagram post later that night. You still followed each other on social media, too reluctant to get rid of that remaining bridge, but your Instagram had lain dormant ever since you had left. That meant you had some insight into Alexia's life post-breakup, guiltily indulging in a late night scroll every now and then which you found yourself in now, whilst she had no idea what you were up to or even if you were alive.
Well, at least she knew you were still here and you still cared for her. Could that be shown in one single social media interaction? You hoped so. Maybe that was a tad bit dramatic though. What else were you supposed to do?
You had the same reaction a year later as you watched Alexia captain her team to an unfortunate loss in the Olympics final. However, it was still a silver Olympic medal, and not many athletes could say they have one of those. A congratulatory text from you may have seemed like the start of a pity party though, so once again you opted out of it. Time and place and all that.
A year on and you were in a much better place, there were no two ways about it. Therapy was difficult, of course it was, but people were right when they say it's one of the best things to do for yourself. You don't think you'd ever been better. Subsequently, that led to an inevitable topic to come into discussion during one session.
"What do you think the... repercussions would be if I... went back to Barcelona?" You asked nervously, looking down at your hands as they fidgeted in your lap.
"It depends what you went to get out of it. Would you go for the city itself? Or for her?"
For some reason, in your sessions, your therapist hardly ever named Alexia. It was always 'her' or 'she', never her name. You figured it was so that you never shied away from the subject which was probably close to being the hardest to talk about, but you were too afraid to ask.
"Both." You answered initially. Your therapist stayed quiet of course, waiting for you to answer truthfully, something she again always did. "Her. Mostly."
"Do you think you're in the headspace for it? You've made so much progress since we first started, so you need to think if it'll aid the healing process or cause a regression."
"Well, she wasn't the problem in the first place. Everything she did for me was perfect, it was the relationship as a whole rather than her specifically. She was... she was perfect." You smiled sadly as you reminisced on your time with her. She really was perfect. "But I was the problem, I think. I was the one suppressing so much stuff and... when I was on my own compared to when I was with her, I was two completely different people. It was like light and day. She had a great effect on me, but I guess it's just figuring out if that was healthy or not. That difference in characters, in mindset."
"See? You've learnt so much from this already. Maybe you should just sit in front of a mirror and talk to yourself, you'd save a lot of money." Your therapist jokes, the pair of you laughing lightly. "So, let's get talking then. Let's figure this out."
And you did. You spent the rest of the session discussing whether it would be suitable for you to go back to Barcelona. The conclusion you came to was a very favourable one, one that made you nervously excited. But what would Alexia be like? Had she moved on? Would she still value you the same? Or would you be old news now? Only time could tell.
The only thing you knew was that it is so much darker after a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone, and that was the case with Alexia. Perhaps your life wouldn't have been so flipped upside down if you hadn't had met her; such a sweet and loving soul, the purest and brighest light shining onto every dark crevice you'd ever hidden. You'd had a taste of her, and you'd be damned if you didn't at least try for her again. Alexia Putellas wasn't one to lose, and you'd been fortunate to have her in the first place. If it was a one time thing, maybe you'd have to come to terms with that being the case. But for now, getting to Barcelona was just the first step.
Your grandparents definitely approved of you going back, no matter how long for, whether it be one day or one month or perhaps forever. At some point in the past year you had opened up to them about Alexia and they were heartbroken for you. Of course they would be. Your hearts were one and the same. They were the biggest advocates in getting you to go back and see Alexia, and even if Alexia didn't want to see you, you were still going to go to Barcelona. You had friends there, you'd lived a whole life there for just over a year, you'd fallen in love with it before you'd even met Alexia, so regardless of her opinion (even if it did sting like hell) you're still going.
When you booked your flight there, with no return ticket just yet, your grandparents had cheered and dragged you up from the armchair to dance with them along to the music from their old radio. It was a core memory, absolutely, and you'd be lying if you said a part of you wasn't hoping to share this memory one day with Alexia.
However, the day came where you had to do the thing you'd been most afraid of. Contacting Alexia. It was an occasion that definitely called for an emergency video call with your therapist who was very pleased to meet your grandparents for the first time, albeit over Zoom, and the three of them offered any and all advice you'd take until you had carefully curated a text message to send to her.
You:
Hey Alexia, I hope you're doing well. Feel free to ignore this, but I'm coming back to Barcelona soon and I was wondering if you wanted to catch up? If you don't want to, I completely understand. It's been a while and we've both lived our lives without each other in it, so no pressure at all. Let me know if you're open to it. Take care x
Almost immediately, the message was read by her. And just as quickly, the typing icon came up. Safe to say, your grandparents were freaking out just as much as you were.
Alexia:
Wow, it is so good to hear from you. I'm doing well and I really hope things are much better for you. I've been dreaming of hearing from you since the moment you left. I absolutely want to see you again, I don't care how long it's been, so let me know when you're coming and I'll see you as soon as I can. Espero verte pronto, cuídate x
Any longer and your jaw would have been lodged into its place hanging wide open. She wanted to see you just as much as you wanted to see her. The feeling of relief that washed over you upon reading it was gone as quick as it arrived; instead, you were now filled with nerves. No, not nerves, butterflies.
And that's where you found yourself now, your taxi driver navigating the streets of Barcelona towards your hotel in mid-October. It was reaching the evening, so your plan was to start off the trip calmly with a walk around the city to re-familiarise yourself before sunset, then just order some room service for dinner. Simple, but the right way to start what would probably be a bit of a challenging trip mentally.
Despite the low-key nature of the day, you could hardly sleep later that night. There was only one reason, it was obvious. You and Alexia had plans to meet for lunch the next day after her training session. You can't recall an event in your life you had ever felt so excited for, you felt like a kid on Christmas Eve again. A few doubts trickled into your mind every now and then, but you'd grafted for too long now for petty worries to tear down the confidence you had built.
Of course you were eager to see the woman you loved again for the first time in eighteen months, but there was a bigger part of you that was desperate for her to see the progress you'd made. You were proud, and it had taken a lot to get to this point. You wanted to share your pride with her and show her the person you always knew you could be all along. All of your efforts, your hard-work, and your sacrifices had been worth it. You were right to feel proud. And after all, sacrifices were given that name for a reason.
When you did eventually fall asleep, it was with images of Alexia circling in your mind, hoping she still had a place in her heart for you and that she'd love you again for who you are now and not who you were.
Finally, finally, the time came to see Alexia again. You weren't really sure what to expect; it was a unique situation with exceptional circumstances, and you were trying desperately not to put too much pressure on the day. Yet, you were a despairingly hopeful person and the anticipation was almost overwhelming as you were getting ready.
Contact between you both had been little but often, topics never delving too deep which you were so glad about as you wanted to talk to her properly face to face. You had to, it's the least she deserved. Over text, anything could be easily misinterpreted and you weren't about to ruin your chance with words getting lost in translation. Phone calls and FaceTimes were out of the question too, and you were grateful that your individual desperation wasn't getting in the way of going about this the correctly. By no means were you a perfectionist, but there were some things in life that were far too important to be ruined by a lack of patience and all-consuming desire.
Once again, your new and probably your healthiest habit came into play as you decided to walk under the bright October weather to the place Alexia had chosen for the occasion. Neutral ground of course; meeting at her apartment or your hotel room wasn't appropriate... yet.
You arrived at the quaint, little restaurant first, a coincidence you were more thankful for than you'd admit, and you chose to seat yourself at a table off to the side. A bit of privacy from strangers could go a long way for a day like today, you figured. You didn't really want a bunch of strangers to witness the influx of emotions you'd no doubt go through when Alexia arrived.
Soon though, that became a case of if Alexia would arrive, because ten minutes passed since you had arrived practically on time and there was still no sign of the woman. And, rather naïvely, you hadn't planned for her to stand you up. You and your therapist had almost fully mentally prepared you for every other outcome except that one. She did have training beforehand, perhaps that had ran late. Still, your mind was slowly spiralling into overdrive with each second that passed.
Until she did arrive.
The bell over the door rang faintly through the room as it opened hastily, a frantic looking Alexia entering the restaurant. She was really here. Here, basically racing over to you whilst weaving through the tables and chairs and the light scattering of people. Here, still as breathtakingly beautiful as ever. Still Alexia.
She came to a stop in front of you, both of you stuck in a trance as if the world had stopped spinning solely for this moment right here. An anticipatory and contemplative silence settled as your eyes' tracked over every feature of the other, a refresh for the memory of the face you'd so dearly missed.
Alexia was the first to speak - a breathless whisper of your name as if she was in disbelief that you were right in front of her. It triggered something in you, because before you had even realised, you had jumped up from your chair and wrapped your arms tightly around her; a hug you had been dying for for longer than you'd admit. It took a few seconds for her to react but soon, Alexia enveloped you just as emphatically.
The embrace was paired with a few more whispered chants of your name from Alexia - in this moment, for her, it felt like the past months without you she had just been floating through her life, waking up everyday as if it were a chore more than anything. But now, in your arms, she felt alive again. The time without you had been worth it for this single moment here.
"Hey." You mumbled quietly into her neck, smiling uncontrollably when the taller woman squeezed you impossibly more in response.
"Hi." Her voice cracked ever so slightly as she spoke. "Hi."
"You already said that." You teased her lightly, meeting her gaze when she moved back to look at you properly. One of her hands came up to delicately cradle your cheek as if she was scared you would disintegrate at her touch. "Don't be so worried. I'm not going anywhere right now."
"You better not." Alexia murmured, her eyes boring down at you so deeply that it caused your breath to hitch in your throat. "I can't believe you're here."
You blushed at the intensity of her look, gesturing a hand down your body jokingly.
"Live in the flesh." You grinned cheekily, gasping slightly when she pulled you back into herself. "Ale."
"Say that again." She said so quietly you almost missed it.
"Alexia. Ale." You repeated, along with a light kiss to her cheek. She physically deflated in your arms, all the tension you didn't even realise was there dissipating immediately. You saying her name was like the last confirmation she needed that yes, you were actually here.
"I..." She started, leaning back and shaking her head whilst letting out a shaky breath. "I missed you. So much."
You smile and... almost instinctively lean in to kiss her - what were you doing?
"I missed you too." You replied, willing yourself to not ruin it, not now, not when you've made it so far. "I really did."
She returned a smile and reluctantly lets go of you in favour of finally taking a seat at the table. You sit across from her and realise that most of the tables were quite small and intimate, and if you had any remaining functional thought processes left that weren't all occupied by Alexia, you would have thought she'd chosen this restaurant for that specific feature. Your knees grazed against each other under the table and Alexia couldn't stop herself from travelling the small distance with her hands to grasp one of yours with both of hers.
"How are you?"
"Well, that's quite a question. Do you want the short answer or the long answer?" You answer humorously, Alexia shrugging.
"Whatever you want. Say it all or say nothing, I'm just glad to be in your company again." You can't help but swoon a little at her words. "But... I would really like it if you were honest with me. And open. Though I understand if not."
"I'm happy to tell you it all. You best have your listening ears on though." You say, delighted to hear her laugh.
"I do, I swear."
At that, you explain everything from start to finish. From the days you spent in bed, to the first therapy session you had, to the moment you opened up to your grandparents, all the way to the point where you made the decision to come back to Barcelona. The only slightly annoying and poorly timed interruption was from the waiter who asked for your orders, the pair of you quickly apologising and taking one glance at the menu before ordering the first thing that caught your eye.
She listened intently to every word you had to say, not afraid to ask a question every now and then whilst also respecting the privacy you still had every right to. Alexia didn't really feel like you absolutely owed her anything, she just wanted a little context to it all, a little closure and an update on your current state of mind. She just wanted you to be well, she just wanted you.
The whole time you spoke, she simply gazed at you with such a soft and earnest look in her eyes. With her presence that, despite all that time, still had the greatest effect on you paired with your newfound self, you were at peace here.
"You promise that you're better now?" She raises her hand up to you, waiting for you to link fingers with her to secure your truth. And this time, you weren't lying when you answered her.
"I'm so much better." You stated with a shy smile, and that statement felt like the final nail in the coffin to the whole journey you'd been on the past two years.
"You don't know how happy I am to hear that." Alexia revealed with a disbelieving shake of her head. You lift your shoulders in a dismissive shrug, glancing down at your joined hands in the centre of the table.
"Are you... are you angry at me?" You ask. You weren't perfect still, you still had doubts and insecurities.
"What would I be angry about?" Her nose scrunched up in genuine confusion.
"Any of it. All of it."
"Hey." She said, nudging your hand to try and gain your attention. You look up at her and blush a little. "Do I seem angry?" You ponder that for a moment, eyes searching her face, before shaking your head no. "Good, because I'm not. Not at all. What person would I be to react like that?"
"An asshole." You mumble, the pair of you breaking out into laughter after a second.
"I'm proud of you and happy for you. You..." Alexia sighs and pauses, wondering if it's the right time to say what she wanted to say. It's her turn to focus her attention on your hands as she mindlessly traced random shapes on the back of your hand with her finger. "This new version of you, I can see that you're less... weighed down by things. There is a different look in your eyes and though I can't quite describe it yet, I know it's a sign that you feel better and more at peace with yourself. That is all I could wish for, for the person I love."
Sorry, what was that?
"Uh, you sti- you still love me?" You stuttered. You just had to know.
"Yes. I do." Alexia confirms, a sheepish smile on her face. "I was being truthful before you left when I said that I'll always love you. Maybe I shouldn't have said this now. You don't have to love me still. I would... I would understand."
"No, Ale, what?" You shook your head at her and squeezed her hands tightly. "I love you. I'll always love you too. Why do you think I wouldn't love you?"
"Why would you think I wouldn't love you?" She hits back, resulting in you both laughing shyly. "It would have to be really crazy situations for me to not love you, chiqui."
"Was this not a crazy situation? Me dramatically fleeing the country out of nowhere?"
"No, and don't say it like that. You had every reason to leave, okay? I told you that when you left and I'll still tell you that now. I don't resent you for choosing yourself." Alexia argues firmly, bringing your hand up to her mouth so that she could kiss the back of it reassuringly. She halts for a moment, wondering if it's appropriate to do so, but judging by the redness of your cheeks she decides to go through with it. "I... just had a few doubts about this all, but now that you're here my mind has calmed down now."
"Are you okay?" You blurt out.
At the mention of herself, your concern immediately turned to Alexia and how she coped through all this. If you knew her as well as you thought you did, you had a feeling you knew what her immediate reaction would be.
"What do you mean?"
Exactly what you guessed.
"I haven't checked up on you yet. I want to know how you've been doing." You answer, shifting forward slightly so that you were closer to her.
"Why check up on me?" Alexia chuckles nervously.
"Because your girlfriend walked out on you and went off the grid for a year and a half. Forget about me right now, Ale, I want to know how you are."
She pauses looking at you, an internal battle going on behind her eyes that you're all too familiar with, until she sighs once more and her demeanour drops.
"Well, I was worried about you, firstly. Everyday I woke up you were the first thing I thought about and the last thing in my mind before I slept. I don't think you ever left my mind, not for long anyway. I wanted the best for you. And then I guess... I had a few selfish thoughts too. But as I said, you're here, and I don't need to think about them anymore." Alexia told you, a tight-lipped smile on her face. "I don't want to say them now, today is about you."
"No, Alexia, it's not. It's a day for both of us." You urge her to understand that it's okay for her to open up, that it's been a hard time for her too, but part of you knows you most likely won't get that out of her today.
"Amor, please. Let's do this another time, for now just focus on the positive. We can talk about me any other time, just not now, please." She begs with a pleading look in her eyes. "I am okay, I swear. You being here has solved everything, it's the truth."
"Promise you'll open up at some point soon?" It's your turn to hold your hand up for her to make a promise.
"As long as you stay long enough." She jokes, but it's clear to see there is some fear and insecurity there. She does link her finger with yours though, a sentiment that's never lost on you. "How long are you staying for?"
"That's the thing. I don't really have a return date yet." You admit, and the flash of hope in Alexia's eyes ignites a feeling of longing inside of you.
Forget timings and socially standardised timelines of falling in love or healing or whatever it was you were doing, you didn't care anymore. Why delay the inevitable process? You were in love with her and she was in love with you. Taking it slow was overrated anyway.
"What does that mean?" Alexia asks, her heart palpitating at the prospect of your answer.
"It means... anything, Ale. What do you want it to mean?"
Perhaps answering questions with another question wasn't the best habit you'd picked up from your therapist.
"You want the truth?" You nod instantly, your emotions already bubbling and she hasn't even said anything yet. "As long as you are ready for it, and you must swear to me that you are because I don't want to h-"
"Oh my god, just say it, please." You beg, eyes wide in hopeful anticipation, waiting for her to admit the thing you had yearned for all these months.
"I want you back in my life, permanently. I want to be your girlfriend again. No matter how long it takes, no matter how slow you decide to take things, the thing I've wished for all this time is to just be yours again, to have you as mine. I'll do anything to make that happen, I swear by it. You want me to throw stones at your hotel window? I'll do it. You want me to sneak onto your balcony in the middle of the night? I'll do that. You want me to stand outside your door with a loudspeaker and signs? I already have the speaker and words prepared. I'll even stand in the centre of Montjuïc at the next game and sing for you if you really want."
You laugh at every ridiculous idea of devotion that comes out of her mouth, eyes glossy with unshed tears. Except, this time, the tears aren't ones of sorrow or longing, they're tears of exultation and relief. Alexia had waited for you, all this time. There had been no one else for her and no matter how selfish it was, it's the best revelation you've ever had.
"I don't think the culers would be too happy about you singing." You teased, rolling your eyes at the smug and nonchalant shrug she gave.
"I don't care, because it wouldn't be for them, it would be for you." She smirks, leaning in closer. Your foreheads were mere inches about now, a fact neither of you could ignore.
"You sure you want me back?" You mumbled shyly. It was Alexia's turn to roll her eyes now as she fought back the temptation to kiss the doubt off of your lips.
"I want nothing more than I want you." She responded, sounding so sure of herself that it was intoxicatingly enticing.
"Even if it's long distance for a little while?"
"Even then." Alexia smiles, resting her arms on her elbows as she brought your joined hands up together to rest in between you both. She pressed her lips to your hands once more, eyes closed as she does so, before looking back into your eyes. "We will figure out the logistics another time. For now, all I know is that I have the love of my life back and I want to spend every second I can with her before she leaves."
"Love of your life, hm?" You whisper with a shy grin, Alexia grunting at how you teased her for her softness. It was something you'd always done, and she was grateful that that part of you hadn't changed. "Well, what do we do now?"
"I'm hoping that you will let me kiss you, finally."
"In here? With all these people?" There really weren't that many people in there, and the few that were wouldn't even take notice of the sickeningly sweet moment occuring.
"Sí. Déjame besarte, por favor." The sound of Alexia speaking Spanish was something you could never get over, it did things to you everytime. How could you deny her when she spoke like she did?
"I guess." You rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically as if it was such an inconvenience.
Alexia simply grinned and planted both her hands on your cheeks before surging forward to kiss you. However, she pauses for a moment, just taking in your appearance and letting out a huff of disbelieved laughter, then she finally presses her lips against yours. A quiet, muffled moan leaves your throat before you can stop it, and the sound of it causes Alexia to smirk smugly. Frustratingly, the stupid but irresistible thing made it aggravatingly difficult to kiss the life out of her like you so wanted to. The smirk was wiped off of Alexia's face the second you broke the kiss much sooner than she wanted to.
"What's wro-"
"I can't kiss you how I want to when you're grinning like a maniac, pendeja!" You groan, butting your forehead against hers to further emphasise your annoyance.
"Pobrecita bebé." Alexia pouts sarcastically at you whilst gently grasping your chin with her thumb and forefinger. That idiotic, childish grin soon forced its way back where it belongs, and you can't help but smile at the sight of it. "I can't help it, amor! What do you want me to do?"
"Be normal and not do that stupid smirk!"
"Oh, perdónarme, I'm sorry I'm so happy that I have you back!" Alexia exclaims, arguing solely to rile you up. What people didn't know about this layered Catalan is that she loved bickering with you or just annoying you in general. You didn't realise quite how much you missed it until this moment now.
"I swear to god, stop being so infuriating and just get o-"
And get on with it she did. You couldn't even finish your sentence before she silenced you in one of the best ways you could think of. And god bless the poor waiter who just wanted to do his job, because when he came to give you your meals, the sight he walked up to was somewhat less than PG. The young guy, who honestly looked no older than 18, cleared his throat louder than normal and the pair of you jumped a mile apart at the unexpected presence. Alexia had to grip the edge of the table to prevent her chair from tipping back, trying desperately to disguise her embarrassment with a tight-lipped smile and rambled thanks to the boy, all the whilst you had to stifle what would be a very loud belly laugh.
"Calláte, that was your fault." Alexia hushed out, her eyes scanning the room to figure out if anyone else had just witnessed that monstrosity. Meanwhile, your face was now bright red due to the laughter threatening to escape out from behind your palm that covered your mouth. It was Alexia's fault really, the shot burst of laughter that barrelled out of you, because she kicked you in the shin as she sipped from the water that had been dropped off at some point during the afternoon. "Dios mío, what is wrong with you!?"
"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry." You choked out. You took a page from Alexia's book and drank some of your water. As you did, you noticed that Alexia's face wasn't contorted to one of irritation, it was the face she did when she was trying to suppress the overwhelming amount of joy she felt. As someone who was so keen to convey a certain persona, it was one you'd seen a few times since you'd known her, and this was perhaps your favourite look of hers. "I think you'll find it was your awkwardness that was at fault, Ale."
"Yeah, yeah. Eat your food, idiota."
There were periods of peaceful silence as you ate, some conversation here and there, but despite all that has and hasn't been said so far, it felt like there wasn't anything that needed to be uttered. You were both content to enjoy each other's presence again, your eyes meeting every other moment as you ate which resulted in you both blushing and laughing like lovesick teenagers.
It really was tooth-rottingly sweet, and though the dynamic wasn't all too different than it was before, there was solace found in the knowledge that a lot of things had been changed for the better. The prospect of it all was exhilarating, a new path for you both to walk together, and for you there were no longer question marks looming over every part of your life.
The main thing that hadn't changed too much for you, a thing you were relieved about, was the way Alexia made you feel. It was the same as it used to be, except about a million times better. There wasn't so much guilt or gloom that was masked by Alexia, it was all genuine and you already knew that feeling would bleed into your everyday life with her around.
"You said you told your grandparents about me?" Alexia wondered, sitting back in her chair with her hands linked over her stomach.
"I did. They said if this goes well, I have to bring back Barça shirts for them." You revealed with a smile, Alexia chuckling.
"I can organise that for them. As well as tickets to a game if they'd like."
"Alright, Miss Marketing." You roll your eyes at her offer, pausing to take a sip from your half-full glass. "We get it, you love your club. You don't have to spread the message like a missionary."
"I have to win them over some way." Alexia laughs, before her face turns a little more serious and you have a feeling you know what she's about to bring up. "What about your... Dad?"
"Haven't spoken to him since the day I left." You answer, eyes focused on the tracks your finger left behind on the condensation of the glass as it ran around the curve of it. "No idea what he's doing or where he is. Just know that he's alive and that's all I have the energy to care about."
"That's good for you, amor. He doesn't deserve you."
"I know that." You smile genuinely at her, and that's another one of her worries she had for you erased. "I think, out of anyone, my therapist is the one you must give tickets to."
"Mm, yes. I must meet this magical woman one day, I owe my life to her." That charming smirk is back on her face, and you blush at that as well as the sentiment she holds in her words.
"I don't want this meal to end." You mumble in a disheartened voice, reaching your hand across the small gap between you both to grasp one of the hands on her stomach.
"It... it doesn't have to, amor." Alexia starts, catching your attention as you look up to meet her eyes. "You could come over to my apartment. It's been a while since you've been there. The indentation on my balcony chair has left, I think you need to reinstate it."
You roll your eyes at her humour, a soft smile on your face at the laugh she gives at her own jokes. You do think the offer over though - is it too soon? Maybe, but if this counted as a first date, milestones were out the window considering you'd already confessed your love for each other. Did time and patience count when it came to re-conciliating a relationship? Screw it, who cares.
"I'd be happy to come over, Ale. If you want that."
"Are you sure? Because I would love that, except I don't want to rush you or ruin anything if we move too fast."
"Fuck that. I know what I want now and that's you. Who cares what is too fast. I've delayed our relationship once already, I'm not doing that again."
She stares at you from across the table and if it was possible, you'd say her pupils were the shape of a heart with the look she fixed you with. Then she was standing out of nowhere, shrugging her jacket back on whilst you watched her, completely confused, until she held her hand out for you.
"Let's go, ay?" She hums, wiggling her fingers to urge you to move. "No wasting time, you said."
You jut your tongue into your cheek, heart fluttering at her forwardness, and gather your own coat before taking her hand. She presses a soft kiss to your cheek before guiding you towards the exit with a hand on your lower back, a notion she's always done and one you'll always adore.
Silently, she leads you to her car that's parked around the corner and watches with a shy but proud smile as you climb into the passenger side of the car. With every little thing you did, whether that was humming contently as you ate your food or smiling at her absentmindedly every time she spoke, or even just blinking and breathing, she realised she could never verbalise the love she held for you because she'd never experienced it before in her life, ever. Not with pets, not with friends, not with her family. It was otherworldly, unexplainable, and though she wasn't religious, her devotion to you was just as close to that.
Again, there is just light, scattered chatter as she drives you back to one of your favourite places in the world, and once more she guides you to the elevator with her palm pressed to your back. As you stand in the lift, shoulder to shoulder, there are modestly triumphant smiles on your faces, a wordless shared notion sitting between you that everything was worth it in the end. Even if it took a journey and a half to get there, the climb was always worth it for the view at the top.
"What would you like to do now?" Alexia asks as she unlocks her door and allows you to step in before her.
"Uh, can we chill on the balcony? You know it's my favourite spot." You reply with a grin, and Alexia somehow knew you were going to say that, almost as if she's heard those words leave your mouth maybe a few hundred times in the past.
"Of course. You go ahead, I'll get us some drinks."
You nod and walk through to her bedroom, one thing standing out to you; everything is exactly the same as it was before. That comforts you impossibly more than you yourself could ever understand. Future therapy topic?
However, there is one thing that jumps out at you. You walk over to where it stands on Alexia's dresser and pick it up, holding the object in your hand with a smile on your face.
"Ale, why do you have my favourite perfume here? I never once brought it to your apartment." You shout to where she was in the kitchen, no doubt her cheeks a bright pink colour at the fact she'd been caught out.
"Because I bought some, after you left." She replied, and you giggle to yourself at the ever so slightly embarrassed tone that creeps through.
"Liked the smell, did you?"
"Mm. Something like that." She grumbled.
You grin and place it down, heading over to the sliding door adjacent to her bed and opening it. The air that hits you and the sight that greets you causes a wave of familiarity to wash over you, one that you welcome straight away. You take a deep breath and bask in the feeling, leaning on the railing as your eyes raked over the view you adored.
A few minutes later and you hear Alexia walking out behind you, first placing the drinks on the small side table before joining you at the edge. She wraps an arm loosely around your waist and rests her chin on your shoulder, admiring the view of the city that was literally right on her doorstep.
"I missed this view." You break the silence first, voicing what Alexia already knew.
"I missed you." She murmurs, turning to press a kiss to your shoulder when she notices something. "Ah, I knew you never gave that back."
Delicately, she runs her index finger along the necklace that sat around your neck which she had gifted you way back when, quietly delighted to see you still wearing it. And it also aided her in not feeling so embarrassed about the earlier incident where you had found the perfume she bought in memory of you.
"Yeah, sorry about that." You mumble sheepishly, shivering when Alexia chuckles into your neck where her lips soon leave a kiss.
"No, I like that you still have it."
You hum in acknowledgement, content to stay here in the arms of your girlfriend as the locals carried on with the hustle and bustle of city life below you.
"This was my favourite thing about your apartment." You state a little while later, leaning your head against Alexia's.
"I remember." You feel her say it more than you hear it, before a thought clearly captures her attention as she stands up fully, still with her arm around you. "You could come here, uh... full time, you know?"
"You mean move in with you?" It's not the most surprising thing you'd heard from her in all honesty, but it was still a bit of a shock to the system.
"If you'd like. I know I would be happy with that."
"I would too, but... I think that maybe does cross the line of 'too soon' though." You reply with an apologetic smile, but Alexia understands instantly, of course she does.
"That's okay." She comments, one more kiss to your shoulder. "Do you think you'll ever come back to live here again? Barcelona, I mean."
With this city before you, this woman holding you and loving you so gently, and the sea and the sky merging into one in the far distance, you think that maybe life can be simple after all. That starts and ends with Alexia.
"I think it's only a matter of time."
#alexia putellas x reader#woso x reader#alexia putellas#alexia putellas one shot#alexia putellas imagine#woso
64 notes
·
View notes
Note
Greetings Bestie, I am here with a Magnus blurb request
How about a piece where Magnus realizes he's in love with his partner, and it's at a funny & inappropriate time and place? Like they're in an interrogation or maybe undercover?
Perfectly Bad Timing
Warnings: fluff, police things, more fluff
Word Count: blurb
a/n: Bestiiie, thank you so much for this! I really hope you're going to like this lil' story! 🥹💖
Magnus's eyes were glued to you. Something you didn't seem to notice. If the young man across from you and him noticed? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Anyways, the policeman wouldn't care. He always had just eyes for the wonderful woman he gad the honour to call his girlfriend, but today... Today was one of these days on which he got reminded by himself how freaking much he actually loved you.
During an interrogation in the first case Kurt allowed you and Magnus to be leading inspectors was admittedly not exactly the right moment, but what was he supposed to do?
You two worked at the Ystad police station for almost five years together now and he had never... Never seen you interrogate a person. This time was a first - and to Magnus, it was stunning. You were stunning. The way you talked. How you always found the right words to say against the snappy, arrogant and pubescent teenager. Your smart and witty nature...
Magnus would even go as far and say it was dominant, and he couldn't deny that he found that to be pretty hot.
The palm of your hand slamming down on the wooden table everybody sat at, caused the young policeman to snap out of his daydream. At least a little.
"Stop lying to us, Nils. We knew you were at the boathouse. We found your goddamn fingerprints!" You accused the eighteen-year-old across from you. By now you were utterly frustrated and kind of angry. Not just because the disrespectful young man just wouldn't cooperate, no... You were also angry because you already sat inside this constricting, small room for almost an hour and your colleague/boyfriend hadn't said a single word!
You gritted your teeth and slowly turned to face the curly haired man. "Magnus?" He shortly blinked and looked up; oceanic blues meeting your Y/E/C ones. "Yes?" You nodded at the door. "For a word..."
Magnus nodded in agreement; noticed immediately that you weren’t in a good mood. His chair scratched over the polished floor as he stood up and followed you outside in the hallway wordlessly.
You had crossed your arms and waited for him to close the door shut. "Magnus..." You started and took a deep breath; trying not to snap at him right away. Perhaps he had a reason why he didn't say something yet. "We are in there for almost an hour and after five minutes you kind of zoned out completely. Baby, you are absolutely no help! That's shitty. If you're just sitting beside me and staring holes into the wall, I might as well do this alone."
Magnus swallowed hard. You could see his Adam's apple bobbing. And he was blushing. "I-I know, I-" "Then why are you doing it?" You interrupted him. "This isn't working without you! Nils might be the key to solve this case! We can't let this opportunity sl-"
The policeman had heard enough. He knew what this was about. His head told him that repeatedly. But his heart... His heart just wanted one thing... For his lips to kiss you. So, he did.
Magnus interrupted you with his mouth on yours; hands on your hips and pulling you against his body.
You were shocked at first - like frozen, but then you couldn't help but to melt against his touch. Against his sinful kiss.
"Mags..." You panted, once he broke the kiss to get some fresh air into his lungs. "W-What... What was that about?" A boyish smile grazed the curly haired man's face; cheeks reddening. "Me, realising how much I love you, min älskling. I'm sorry for not doing my job, but... All I could focus on, was you."
Your expression softened. He was so cute and kind. How could you possibly be mad at him?
"Aww..." You hugged your boyfriend tightly; burying your hands in his wild, blond curls. "I love you so so much as well." You kissed him again and again and again; the ongoing integration forgotten... At least for a few minutes.
Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @huntedmusicgardenn @hisredheadedgoddess28 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fictive-sl0th @loz-3 @javagirl328 @icytrickster17 @jaidenhawke @eleniblue @lou12346789 @lady-rose-moon @km-ffluv @herdetectivetheorist @lokiforever @crimson25 @simping-for-marvel @cakesandtom @vanilla-daydreaming @kimanne723 @glitchquake @lulubelle814 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @buttercupcookies-blog @november-rayne @mandywholock1980 @lokidbadguy @smolvenger
#campfire sleepover#2k follower celebration#magnus martinsson#wallander#wallander fanfiction#magnus martinsson x reader#magnus martinsson x you#magnus martinsson x y/n#tom hiddleston x reader#tom hiddleston characters
75 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hii🫶🏻 So for the blurb night I was thinking about a wedding planning with Lance. He wants to take part in everything even if it means staying up late after a race night just to decide the flowers and cakes and sets absolutely no budget as he wants the teader to have absolutely the best day🥺 like imagine going to cake tasting eith them and choosing the menu. Uhh, to be a wag😩
"Please, Lance. We have to pick a cake! We have already been to so many bakeries and we are running out of time and offers - not to mention the money I'm sure this is costing despite you telling me it doesn't matter", you sighed.
"I just want to make sure you have the best day ever and you have all you've dreamed of", Lance said as he sat at the table with you after he alerted the bakeshop owner you had arrived for the tasting.
"Lance, I love you, and you know I'm not lying when I say this - my dream is spending the rest of my life with you, and yes, I want us to have our perfect day and for that we need to make decisions!", you hissed slightly.
"I have a feeling you'll like these a lot", Lance winked as the owner started bringing out the different cakes, explaining what was in each one of them before letting you take a bite.
"Vanilla is always a safe option, I feel like that's something everyone likes", you reasoned as you tasted the sponge, "but red velvet has been my favourite", you tapped the plate.
"Did you like this", he checked the label, "fresh lemon one? I think it tastes nice and with the wine and champagne we picked out it would be a nice contrast", Lance offered.
"I did - I'm torn between these two", you pouted.
"Is there something I can help you with?", the older man said as he approached the table, noticing you were already discussing options.
"Actually, yes - would you be able to make a cake with two flavours? We really like these two and perhaps there's a way to make it happen", your soon to be husband said.
"Yes, we can do different layers, but that would have a different price point than the ones we discussed earlier, let me just get the price table for you", he said.
"No need for that - we've settled on it then", Lance stated.
The owner went back to the counter to gather the forms so you could make the order while Lance took another bite of the cake, "before you go at me, it's what we both wanted and now we'll have a great cake - that's all I care about", Lance smiled, knowing the thoughts going on your mind.
"You're lucky you're charming like that", you teased, kicking his chin playfully and smiling at him.
.
"I'm home, I'm home!", Lance said as he walked through the door, leaving his backpack on the floor along with his shoes before he met you in the dining room table, "hey love", he kissed the top of your head and sat down after he greeted your mother, his mother and his sister.
"You didn't have to rush home like that - wasn't there traffic?", you wondered.
"I took a short cut - I didn't want to you to this alone", Lance said as he looked at the different arrangements.
"Hey, little brother, Hi! You've greeted me so I'm sure you noticed your fiancée wasn't alone", Chloe lightly swatted the nape of his neck as everyone laughed.
"So these are the ones we decided on after the Monaco GP", you pointed to the five options you and Lance picked out in your hotel bed over some room service after the race, "and they also sent those two - I think they're new and they thought we should consider them".
"I really like the idea of the dry flowers for your bouquet and the bracelet things for the girls and for the guys to have one in the pocket as well", Lance noted as he looked at the arrangements up close.
"It's called a corsage and a boutonniere", Chloe teased.
"As I was saying", he sent her a side eye, "maybe we could match them to the tables so it doesn't look to different", he checked, "what was your idea?".
"I like your idea, Lance, perhaps this one here?", you mother held the arrangement she recalled would be the most similar to the dried flowers you had already picked out. Lance had been on FaceTime for that meeting since the team needed him for Testing, so he knew some details but not all of them.
"Yes, I think so, maybe with those because they also have the purple and brick red tones", you agreed.
"I also like the idea of having some of the little flowers on my suit if that's okay", Lance mused as he picked a few of the loose ones on the table, fiddling with an elastic as he made a quick accessory for him, "does this boutonniere look nice?", he pointed it at his sister as he made fun of the word.
(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)
42 notes
·
View notes
Note
tysm for answering my qs about werewolf!eliot !! not to keep bugging you lol but i remember you mentioned in the tags of a post one time about a hc/au of parker being some sort of fae or otherworldly being who’s just kinda found herself here in the non-magical world - could you elaborate on that? like how come she’s in the non-fantasy part of the leverage universe, or whether the other characters know, etc? only if you want to of course, no pressure :) i’m really enjoying reading your posts about all these ideas!
You're welcome! And you're definitely not bugging me, I love getting the chance to ramble about my thought lol
(werewolf!eliot post here)
(link to the post and my tags that started this)
Honestly I don't have as clear ideas for Parker as I did for Eliot, but I imagine her being some kind of changeling or air/wind sprite that was left with humans for whatever reason.
(ooh i'm getting more ideas for this the more i think about it..)
okay, Parker is actually half-fey, half-human
no one really knows who her parents were or how she came to be on her own (me included lol), she was just found on a doorstep as a baby
the people who took her in had their own issues and the state eventually intervened and sent Parker into foster care
she found out at a very early age that she was different to other kids - she could move around without making a sound, she could fit into tiny spaces - all very helpful for a young girl in a foster system that was chewing her up and spitting her out
she also discovered that she could ... not turn invisible exactly, but she could be less visible if she wanted to be; all she has to do is think about not being seen and people's eyes just drift over her
Archie had absolutely no idea what she was when he got his hands on her, but even he knew that she was beyond just a gifted child
he only realised there was something magical about her after she fell off the roof of the warehouse he'd been training her in - then walked it off like it was no biggie
fey creatures love puzzles and riddles, so of course Parker has always had a natural affinity for puzzles (aka locks)
her super artistic talent is a trait that is Entirely Parker and, given that she entered a life of crime early and was surrounded by artistic masterpieces all the time, she never even considered that other people would draw/paint/whatever with any lower skill level
this contributes to her not understanding what the fuss is over art
she gave herself the name Parker when Archie met her and asked her name; it was the first thing that came to mind
she doesn't remember her birth name and isn't bothered by that in the slightest
Eliot was the first of the team to figure out she was fey - being a werewolf, he can smell and/or sense that kind of thing on others
Hardison suspected something was up with her, but then felt bad for thinking that, but then strange things kept happening around her so he started to keep a list ...
pretty much Hardison has a red-string conspiracy theory-style board of Parker Things. He's too terrified of offending her to ask her outright, but he's more convinced every day
(he's also more in love with her and just thinks her fey-ness is another thing to celebrate)
Parker finds Hardison's board of Parker Things and is utterly fascinated. It's like he understands her better than she understands herself. He's super flustered when he finds her poring over the board and tries to make excuses, but Parker's quick to steamroll over that and demands if he knows what she is
Eliot finds them 15 mins later, stuck in an endless loop of confusion over which of them actually knows what Parker is
he just rolls his eyes, says she's half-fey, it's obvious, like, "what? it's a very distinctive smell!"
which leads to how the hell would he know what the fey are and Eliot's like, oh crap, right, they still don't know I'm a werewolf whoops
Hardison and Parker stage a coming-out for her to Nate and Sophie
(Eliot refuses to be involved but still gets roped into carrying the banner. He's still finding glitter in his hair weeks later)
Sophie is thrilled about the reveal and confesses to being a siren (or some other supernatural/magical creature that can manipulate people, idk i have less thoughts about her than i do about parker)
Nate is all like are you kidding me right now what the hell is my life
after a lot of badgering, he confesses he didn't know about Parker, although he has been ... aware of magical beings for some time
no he will not be discussing this any further, can we just get back to the con now??
Parker finds that, now she's aware of her fey-ness, her magical abilities develop further
she doesn't quite gain the ability to fly but ... yeah okay, she can pretty much fly
she wants to test how far this flying ability goes - by, of course, jumping off tall buildings with Hardison in her arms (and no harness for either of them)
Hardison flat out refuses this, so Eliot somehow finds himself the unwilling victim
of course, Parker masters flying while carrying people in no time and proves it to Hardison by just grabbing him and jumping off a building one day
(he's still in therapy for it)
Parker also discovers she can make herself kind of ... misty
this skill is harder to learn but she's already been able to make her hand go misty and whoosh inside a lock
picking the lock is harder in this incorporeal state but Parker's instincts say there's a way to do this, so she keeps practising until she can pretty much disintegrate herself and float through locked doors to rematerialise on the other side
it's a nightmare for the whole team because, sure, it's not like locked doors stopped her in the past. But now she's so excited about it all the time that any concept of privacy completely leaves her brain and she jumps in and out of rooms and safes etc any time of day or night
Wow. This ended up longer than expected! Guess I did have some ideas about fey!Parker after all..
#parker leverage#leverage#fey#fey!parker#i need a tag to keep track of these...#leverage fantasy au#alec hardison#nate ford#sophie devereaux#eliot spencer#as always feel free to add your own ideas to any of this!#@ aardvaark sorry i didn't answer your questions about why parker ended up in the human world#just magic i guess#my posts#asks#sorry i forgot to include a link so i've edited this post ugh my bad
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)
Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.
Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.
Taglist:
@phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool
Chapter 23
[Prev] [Next]
Law hadn’t left you alone since he returned from Wano. His first order of business when exiting the airport into the mid-summer sun and entering the pick-up car roundabout was to scoop you into his arms and plant a smattering of kisses onto your giggling cheeks. He couldn’t care less if passersby were staring at his display. So what if you looked straight out of a rom-com. He had had enough of, not only being away for a week, but also dealing with snide remarks from multiple colleagues about his incessant calling and texting exchanges with you.
“They’re just mad they’re not as in love as you are,” you had said over the phone, talking him out of a mildly panicked state as he thought about a reality where you left him for being too annoying.
Clearly, with the way you clung to his arm right back since Penguin picked him up from the airport with you in tow, he had absolutely nothing to worry about.
And now, as he drove you back to the fertility clinic for your implantation day, he couldn’t fight the smile on his face. You were practically buzzing beside him.
“Can you believe it? Six of the eggs grew into… what were they called again?” you asked.
“Blastocysts,” he claimed. “The cells that multiply enough times to officially become an embryo.”
You snapped your fingers. “That’s it. Six little blastocysts…” Your voice had a dreamy lilt to it. “I already talked with Dr. Robin a few days ago, I’m going to have two implanted and the rest will be frozen. That way if neither of them grow, the rest can be used for another try… if we even decide to do that.” Your voice grew saddened at the prospect.
Your sudden shift in demeanor made Law reach his hand over and pat your thigh. “Hey, chin up. This is going to work. It has to.”
You took a deep breath, passing him a smile that he caught out of the corner of his eye. “You’re right.”
“Is there a reason you picked two instead of one?” he asked, his eyes flickering between the road and his rearview mirror. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly as the car riding his tailgate finally entered the left lane and sped around him.
“I picked two so the chances are higher that one of them implants. Robin said it’s likely that only one of them will take, and the other will be expelled with some simple spotting like nothing.” You anxiously tapped your fingers on your thigh. “I just really… really hope this works, Law…”
Law flicked his right blinker on to turn into the parking lot. “It will. I’m sure of it. And you know me, I’m not sure about a lot.”
You chuckled. “Yes you are. You’re sure about everything in your life.”
He put his car into park, twisting the key in the ignition to turn off his car. He finally took the opportunity to lean over his center console and press a tender kiss to your lips. “I am. This is going to work. Four little eggs in a freezer, and hopefully one little baby for us.”
Your heart swelled at the thought. A rush of adrenaline flooded through your veins at the thought of your husband carefully cradling a newborn. Something about the internal image of the sexiest man in your life placing gentle kisses on a baby’s forehead, holding them in his strong arms and swaddling them in blankets…
“Hey,” he snapped his fingers in your face, ripping you from your daydream. “What’s got you thinking so hard?”
“Nothing,” you replied with a smile.
—
You were starting to greatly dislike ultrasound tables. So far, none of them had led to anything promising, and the feeling of the cold gel against your lower stomach was becoming a sensation of grief and anxiety rather than the promise of viewing a fetus on the black and white monitor. Nevertheless, you powered through your discomfort and stared at the ceiling. Law sat in a small chair directly beside your bed as the technician set up the machine. Everything was running like cogs in a well-oiled machine. They had to be fairly quick about it, placing the eggs into your body before they expired. For the past week and a half, they had been kept in a special incubator to grow into the blastocyst stage, which was where you were at now. After a few days of hormone shots to prep your uterine lining for the implantation, it was finally time.
You took a deep breath as your doctor entered the room, a small plate in her gloved hands.
“You’re going to get to watch the implantation process on the ultrasound,” she explained with a small grin. “We’re going to insert a thin tube into your vagina and through your cervix, and the eggs will pass through there. We let your body take care of the rest. If everything goes as planned, one of them should implant to your uterine wall and form a placenta.”
You nodded, your hands holding your shirt up below your breasts and keeping your belly exposed. “Sounds good.”
Law placed a reassuring pat against the outside of your calf, your legs and feet held up by the cold, uncomfortable stirrups mounted at the end of the bed. Easy access for your genitals, and everything.
The process was far quicker than you expected, and no pain relief was necessary. You felt an admittedly uncomfortable cramping sensation as the thin tube passed through your cervix, but it was nothing you weren’t already used to. Your eyes were on your husband’s as he stared at the ultrasound monitor, clearly fascinated with the technology and process of the entire process you had been enduring. He viewed the screen with baited breath as the needle passed through the tube and injected the two blastocysts into your uterus before pulling out. The tube followed, you sucking in a sharp breath at the awful, twisting burn that was felt when the tube left your body before leaving you with nothing but a residual, dull throb.
“Alright, all done!” Robin called, bringing the materials to the nearby counter and disposing them in their respective receptacles. “Now all we have to do is wait about 12 to 14 days, and then you’ll be back in the outpatient lab for a pregnancy test.”
Law helped you sit up on the bed, handing you your underwear and shorts. “That’s it?”
She nodded. “Yup. If the first blood test comes back as positive, we will continue testing every week for about a month or so to ensure that your hCG levels are rising normally. If they are, we’ll begin the usual routine of prenatal scans and care, just as a normal pregnancy would be.”
Finally fully dressed and on your feet, you stepped into your shoes. “And if not?”
“Then we wait about six months and try again. But…” she tossed you a look. Her bright blue eyes held an emotion from her that you hadn’t seen before. Something that was almost hopeful. “Don’t ask me why, but I have a good feeling about this.”
You bit the inside of your lip. First your husband, now your doctor. You were starting to wonder if everyone was part of some secret pregnancy conspiracy that you had no part in. Whatever it was, you were desperate to not get your hopes up. If you lost one more pregnancy, you were considering yourself done. You’d most likely either remain a childfree couple for the rest of your life, or go through the years-long process of adoption. Neither sounded very pleasing to you. You just wanted a baby. Your own baby. Was that too much to ask?
You kept your mouth shut as you exited the clinic with your husband in front of you, holding your fingers in his hand. You barely exhaled until you got outside.
“You did great in there, baby,” he reassured, rubbing your back as he helped you to the car.
“I just don’t want to get my hopes up, that’s all,” you muttered, climbing into the passenger seat. Law rounded the car and sat behind the steering wheel, putting his key in the ignition and blasting the air conditioning to cool down the stifling car.
“Well… you might hate me for this, then, but I got you something.” Law reached into the pocket that was built into the back of your seat, pulling out a flat, brown paper bag. “I saw it at the airport oddly enough and got it on a whim, I know I probably shouldn’t have but… it drew me in.”
You took the bag from him, the rough paper crinkling under your fingertips as you eyed it suspiciously. “Are you gonna make me cry again?”
He simply shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”
Slowly, you parted the opening of the bag and reached inside. Your fingers felt some kind of hard slab, metal rings wrapping around one side of it. Some sort of notebook. You pulled it from the paper, your eyes widening as you took in what you held in your hands.
A hardcover journal, each page printed on high-quality glossy paper. The outside cover was titled, ‘My Pregnancy Journal.’
“Hold on…” you uttered, gazing at the cover, an illustration depicting a mother and an infant was below the title font. “You found this at the airport?”
“Yeah, it was weird. And I kind of felt weird buying it. The old lady behind the counter definitely gave me a strange look,” he explained, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile. “You don’t have to use it. You don’t even have to keep it. But I had this odd feeling and just… got it.”
You silently flipped through the pages. The book was thin, only about 95 pages in total, and was separated into three segments for each trimester of a pregnancy. Each page was labeled with different prompts and phrases to encourage documenting the course of a pregnancy. Your heart was hammering in your chest.
“Th… Thank you…” you whispered, gazing at the front cover.
Your head was still held down, staring at the illustration on the front cover. Law leaned over the center console once more and pressed a kiss to your hair. “Again, you don’t have to use it. But I thought, if everything goes as planned… it would be nice to have.”
You clutched the book to your chest, fighting the tears welling in your eyes. There were so many words you wanted to say. To thank your husband for thinking of you in such an odd location, to thank him for being so tender and caring with his words and embraces, but to also berate him for the irrational fear of jinxing the pregnancy that you both so desperately wanted. Instead of speaking, you simply kept your mouth shut, smiling at the glove box as Law put his car in reverse and exited the parking lot.
“Do you want ice cream?” he asked, breaking the silence, his hand resting idly on the gear shift. He had a small smirk on his lips as he glanced at you from his peripheral.
You finally picked your head up, casting a warm smile at him. “Uhm, fuck yeah I want ice cream.”
—
Law had another 24 hour shift starting that evening at 8:00 PM, leaving you home alone with Bepo. While you deliberated on inviting your friends over, you ultimately decided on spending the evening by yourself, enjoying the peace and quiet of your little home. You made a small trip to the drugstore that thankfully didn’t close until 10:00 PM and grabbed a small bottle of lavender-scented bubble bath soap, a new bottle of moisturizer, and a small box of individually wrapped milk chocolate candies. Your bath was one of the most peaceful ones of your life, soaking in the hot, bubbly water, warming your senses with the relaxing smell of lavender and vanilla while a small candle burned on the floor beside the tub, filling the air with a blissful warmth.
When you finally pulled the plug on your drain and dried yourself off, you found yourself laying on the couch in your living space, blankly scrolling through your phone. Bepo was on his doggy bed in the corner of the room, snoring up a storm. You sighed, placing your phone on the coffee table and resting your hands on your lower belly.
Two little eggs were supposed to be in there. One of them should be implanted.
With a small huff, you stood from the couch and proceeded to your bedroom. You fumbled through the dim lighting of your bedside lamp toward Law’s desk, plucking the journal he had gotten you from the top of a stack of papers. Your fingers traced the text on the cover. You carried it close to your heart, grabbing a pen from the junk drawer in your kitchen before sitting back on the couch.
You paused after writing a few lines. You were unintentionally addressing the baby that hadn’t even started growing. You swallowed the lump in your throat.
#x reader#reader insert#fem reader#law x reader#trafalgar law x reader#one piece x reader#op x reader#trafalgar d water law x reader#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar law#i'm losing you
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
Between the Black and Grey 34
First / Previous / Next
Kerry knew better than to duck when the vase was thrown. Luckily, it struck her shoulder instead of her head. Even more luckily, it managed to snag on one of the buttons of her uniform so it shattered. She worried what would have happened to her if it had just bounced off harmlessly.
"Pick that up!" The Empress screamed.
Kerry bent low and started scooping up the pieces of vase. It was from Earth, and easily a thousand years old. Priceless. The Imperial bedroom was floor to ceiling packed with more gimcrackery than Kerry had ever seen. Most of it was worth more than she'd ever see in her life. A broken priceless vase was only a drop in the proverbial priceless bucket. Another attendant bent down to help her, but the Empress snapped her fingers.
"No, not you. She has to do it on her own."
Saying sorry with her eyes, the other attendant stood back up and remained at attention. This had been going on all day. All week really. Everyone at the palace was walking on eggshells. The Empress was in a mood most foul.
Empress Meredith The 3rd was not having a good year. Early on, she lost three Super Dreadnoughts to something. Something nobody has been able to properly explain, even with high amounts of encouragement. The only thing anyone knows is that Dreams of Hyacinth was destroyed and took out the other two Supers - her three oldest ones! - on the final approach to Minaren. The damned K'laxi - useless, all of them - have no idea who did it, no person or group has stepped forward to claim responsibility, nothing. Ships don't explode for no reason, she shouted at her Admiralty, but they had the temerity to explain that yes, sometimes they do. Starships are large, complicated machines and even with the highest quality maintenance - something that may not have been carried out at all times (the Admiral with a known death wish stated this) - they can explode for no reason.
The K'laxi had even questioned a frigate that was passing by at the time, but they didn't see anything, and the K'laxi didn't think it was worth their time to execute or even imprison the captain of the frigate. They asked them if they had seen anything - of course they hadn't - and let them go on their way. Useless!
If that was not bad enough - and it was - Meredith discovered 5 weeks ago that she didn't have a connection with the Nanites anymore. She could implore them to answer her questions all she wanted; silence was their only reply. She tried to use her Voice on her attendants and while they rushed to obey her whims, they did not do it with the absolute robotic precision they used when they were Voiced. So far only her most inner circles of handmaidens, attendants, valets and other hangers on knew. Her Admirals had no idea and none of the Venusian nobility knew, and she was keenly aware that it had to stay that way.
She stood up from her couch and paced her room. This was supposed to be easy! You walk around, you give some orders, you open a new hospital or school, smile and wave for the sensorium and that was it. Then back to the Palace for some well-earned sex with whoever was her flavor of the week and a big dinner. She was facing the impossible. Intrigue. Politics. The Unknown.
One of the handmaidens standing to the side of her bed held out a goblet, half full of a burgundy liquid. Meredith snatched at the wine and drank greedily. She knew how to sip demurely, but behind closed doors she could be herself. Belching, she handed the crystal goblet - also worth more than the handmaiden made in a whole year - back and waited for it to be refilled. This time she drank it more slowly as she paced.
"They're not listening. They can't hear me? They won't hear me? What's going on? I've been a good Empress. I've done all the right things. Kerry!" Kerry's head snapped up and she stood rapidly. The pieces of vase in her uniform shirt lifted up like a basket. "What am I doing wrong?"
"I'm sure you're not doing anything wrong, Empress."
"Then why did they leave?!" Kerry and the others saw then that Meredith wasn't just furious. She was deathly afraid. As if for the first time, she saw Kerry's uniform. "Why is your uniform like that, Kerry? What are you holding?"
"Er, it's the vase you threw at me. You ordered me to pick it up."
Meredith blinked back tears. "And you did? Did the Voice work?"
"Ah, no Empress. I was following regular orders that you gave me."
"Why did you do that?"
Kerry blinked. "Because... this is my job?" She said very slowly.
Empress Meredith stood very slowly. The four women in the room watched her as she strode to the main entrance to her bedchamber, and locked the door. She strode to the servants' entrance and locked that door. She lifted up her mattress and pressed a palm against the lock in the center, and it beeped happily at her.
She walked into the pantry and brought out 4 bottles of wine. A red, from the mountains of Parvati, said to be some of the best in the Galaxy. In the cabinet opposite the wine cooler, she took out 4 more crystal goblets.
She set the wine and the goblets on the table and gestured towards the woman who was pouring the wine earlier, Tina. She shrugged and opened the first bottle with a musical pop. The cork was made of Parvatian corkwood and was fragrant. Empress Meredith the 3rd, leader of Sol, Luna, the Outer Planet Alliance as well as her Colonies and Protector of The K'laxi poured five glasses of wine.
"Kerry, throw that out. Ladies. I need your help. You four are some of the only people who know about my... condition. What do I do?" She gestured towards the wine.
Tina grabbed a glass first and took a sip. "Well, can you tell anyone else?"
Kerry took one next. "No, she can't. The minute she tells someone else she's dead. If people find out the Empress That Can't Be Disobeyed can be, they'll kill her and put someone else on the throne."
"Or worse." Alina, the woman opposite Kerry at the bedchamber door pipes up and takes a glass.
"Is it really that bleak?" Emery takes the last glass of wine and sips it demurely. "Surely everyone in the Nobility and Admiralty won't want to kill you. You must have some people who are loyal to you utterly."
Meredith takes the last glass and flops onto her bed. She pats the mattress and the women sit. "There are some families that are completely loyal, but it's more out of inertia than any kind of love of the Empress. Tch, if the K'laxi found out they'd declare independence before the return ping confirming the beacon was received."
"Okay, let's look at it another way: How do you know they're gone? Other than not having The Voice?" Bruised shoulder aside, Kerry felt sympathetic. Meredith was in the middle of having her world crumble around her.
"I can't hear them."
The girls eyes' widen. "The Nanites talk to you?"
"They used to yeah. Based on how Mom spoke of it, they talked to her more than me. Grandmother complained that they basically never stopped talking."
"What do they say?" Kerry finishes off her wine, but doesn't go for more. Meredith pours her another glass anyway.
"Ugh, they always are trying to tell me what to do. They have ideas. They want us to build more Gates. I keep telling them the wormhole generators work better, but they're like "no we need more Gates." Meredith sighs and rolls her eyes. "They're very boring."
"They want more Gates?"
"Yeah, I think it's how they get into our dimension or something. They tried to explain it to me once, but I practically fell asleep."
"Wait." Alina pauses with the wineglass partway to her lips. "If they use the Gates, what would happen if you went to a Gate? You could talk to them directly!"
"And leave the palace?" Meredith rolls around on the bed, dramatically groaning with her arm over her eyes. "It's so far, and I'd have to ride in a ship, and I'd have to deal with a wormhole link and, and, and..."
Tina's eyes flick to Kerry and Alina and Emery's. They return her gaze.
"Is that worse than others finding out you lost your powers though? We'll never tell, but it'll get out eventually."
"What if just the five of us went!" Emery is animated and on her third glass of wine. "You could take a small ship and just us. Tell everyone you're on some kind of Empress Pilgrimage. Link over to wherever the closest Gate is, talk to the Nanites and come home. Maybe do some light shopping at whatever station is closest."
Meredith raises her arm off her eyes and looks at Emery. "That's an incredibly dangerous idea."
Emery's face falls and she tilts her chin low. "I'm sorry Em-"
"I love it!"
The four handmaidens look shocked.
"It's so stupid! It's so dangerous! It's so exciting. Let's go. Right now?" She takes a whole bottle of wine and starts drinking directly from it.
Kerry sputters. "Now? How are we going to leave?"
Meredith polishes off the wine and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Just like Emery said. Empress Shit. I'll just tell people I need to go and only you can come with me and they'll do it. If they say no, I'll have them killed."
"We can't pilot a starship though!" Alina reaches across Kerry and takes another bottle of wine and pours a little more, only slightly unsteadily.
"They drive themselves! It's easy. You just say "Ship, take us to wherever." and it does it." Kerry is on her third glass of wine, but has noticed that Meredith is getting sloppy. She's downed two bottles herself in just a few minutes. She gets up from the bed and grabs three more bottles.
"You're just going to go by yourself with 4 handmaidens? Won't that cause problems?" Emery may have finally realized the gravity of what they're planning.
"No! I'm going with my honor guard!" Empress Meredith grins lopsidedly. "We'll stop by wardrobe on the way to the docks. You four need new uniforms." She hiccups. "Come on. We're going to tell those fucking Nanites to give me my powers back. Maybe some powers for you four too." She nods at Emery. "And some shopping. It's been forever since I've gone on a shopping spree."
Emery squeals in joy, her face flush. The five of them weave uncertainly out of the Empress' chambers and stagger towards wardrobe for their new honor guard uniforms.
#humans are deathworlders#humans are space orcs#sci fi writing#humans are space oddities#humans and aliens#jpitha#writing#humans and ai#humans are space capybaras#humans are space australians#Between the black and gray
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Limerence
Contents: Jealous and Possessive Anakin x Fem Reader, Brief Smut, DubCon, Past Breakup Attempts
Word Count: 800
18+
___________________
With one hand gripping the side, the legendary Jedi Knight jumped out of his craft and onto the landing platform - with a trained manner, as cool as possible. His robes billowing out, enveloping him as one whole, dark figure.
And without missing a beat he stormed towards you - the beautiful face darkened in a hailing rage - the sharp glint of danger. His full lips lightly parted, the loose angelspun curls of blonde falling over his face, the chest heaving. Tall and well formed - he were made as only a warrior could be made; the upper body perfectly lithe and feline, the legs strong and thickset as an athlete capable of remarkable feats of gymnastics in combat.
Aghast - you were reminded again of why you were so afraid of him. He could not be told to leave. He could not be outrun… or outpowered. He was inescapable - a relentless obsessive of his desires.
'Anakin!' You started, 'You should not be here! I told you not to come back here', but seeing him this way - in person again, you felt small, and absolutely powerless - your voice squeezed light and shrill.
'You are no master of me.'
In a white flash of bewilderment he took you hard - wrestled you as if you were nothing - and held you firmly by the neck in the crook of his arm. And each time you tried to struggle and yell, the prescient part of his mind foresaw this, and squeezed - silencing you, till your vision faded black, till you laid yourself limp - soft and pliant in his arms... as the object of his attainment.
And close to your ear now, he whispered, breathing hard and hoarse; 'You will be silent. Or I shall see that you cannot be anything else.
Something is different now... someone has been here... with you. I've sensed it. That's why your feelings for me have changed - why each time I come to you, you turn me away.
So why don't you tell me my love... who is this other that has taken your heart from me?
Or are you too afraid to tell me? ...'
The words - terrifying - but the voice so beautiful; the vestigial accent of the far flung Tatooine that softened, made delicate the consonants. And his scent, of the incense they burned in his home - the Jedi temple, so fine and familiar to you now.
'I- I promise - there is no one'
'Are you sure of that? For you will be sorry if I find that you are lying'
Holding you this way, he ran his other hand over your body - the sweat of his palm enough to blot the silk of the fine nightdress that fell so sumptuous between your legs, caressing the hips and the lovely swell of the breasts - revealing all of the lines of your figure to him. And a silent, heavy intimacy arose between you both. But he did not touch you in this way for the reason ordinary men might do so, but rather to use his Jedi senses, to feel you - the energy enveloping you, and to be sure that no other man had touched you in your time apart from each other.
The hug of even a male relative were enough to rise the ugly horns of Anakin's jealousy. As if to him there were no 'safe men'... only men.
And as you struggled again - you gasped and sighed, your hands tugging at his sleeve, and he was aroused by this. Till losing control - his resolve to punish you, he turned you around to face him, gripping you roughly, and began to kiss you - up your neck, then with his tongue forced your mouth open into a deep kiss - with an aggression like intercourse, some eagerness to be pleased.
And using the force - he took you suddenly by rubbing rough, flickering circles in the part between the legs - around the bud of the clitorus. As if to overwhelm you - to bring you back to him. To remind you of what he possessed that no other man could bring you. And this rising, humming of pleasure knocked you back - shamefully you could not help the moans that escaped you - wanting for more, now sinking your weight into his arms, accepting this completely.
'I've been thinking about you every moment since we parted. You rob me of all reason. Inflame my blood.'
From him now emanated some overwhelming power. As bathed in his beauteous light, all sense of worldliness were hazing, slipping away. Drifting into some dissociative fugue that weakened your will - your inhibitions - to do the right thing; to force him to leave, to turn him away, and instead reminded you only of how you too wanted him… for despite your best efforts to dismiss this turbulent and forbidden passion - he was undeniably remarkable in so many ways. At last surrendered to him, in some placid quiet, you felt his arousal pressing hard into you - the promise of aggressive sex.
'And now' he whispered, 'here I have you again.'
___________________
#anakin smut#anakin x reader#anakin fanfiction#anakin x you#anakin skywalker smut#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin#anakin one shot#anakin skywalker
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
Forbidden
Hogwarts Professor Jacques Le Gris x Reader
Word Count: 8.4k
Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Aggressive and Dominant Jacques. Chasing. Implied Age Gap. Student/Professor Dynamics. Professor/Professor Dynamics. Everyone is over 18, as All Readers Must Be.
AO3 Link
Author’s Note: Based on a special request for a sexy Christmas party with Professor Le Gris from my beautiful friend @kyloremus ! She does the absolute best edits around and keeps me absolutely rabid! Edits by her, of course!
More Hogwarts Professor Jacques fics for anyone hooked:
Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire
Dashing Through The Snow
I Put A Spell On You
A Duel to Remember
Fog hung heavily in the winter air, snaking through the cobblestone streets and the serpentine twists of Diagon Alley. Fat snowflakes danced lazily down from swirling carbon clouds and the cobblestones were icy and slick beneath the fresh powder snow. Shop windows glowed with a kaleidoscope of lights and buttered rum and spiced wine could be scented on the frosted air. Christmas Eve was a glittering evening, the kind filled with beauty and wonder and promise. A gust of wind blew down the alley toward you, twirling a flurry of snow up from the ground. You pulled your coat tighter around your body and trotted toward your destination a few businesses ahead.
Ducking inside the welcoming doors of the Leaky Cauldron, you were instantly enveloped by warmth and the smell of drinks and fried food. The bar was more crowded than you had ever seen it, packed to standing room only with patrons out for Christmas Eve. Festive music, a mix of cherry and clubby, almost made you want to dance as you weaved your way through the crowd. The edges of the bar were obscured in that murky shadow that liked to linger on the sidelines, like wallflower shades watching from the wings. You could see figures of people sitting in the shadows, but couldn’t make out any discerning features. You could almost feel a pair of eyes on you, watching you from the shadows.
A wave from the crowded bar caught your eye. A group of four people pressed together at the bar, two couples, waiting for you. Your friends. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be the third wheel in your group, still single after your closest friends had paired up with men during their school years and shortly thereafter. Zelda was now married and Dina, more protective of her freedom, was with a man she had been dating for years. It was easy to see that the man who was supposed to meet you tonight was absent. You expected to hear whatever excuse he had for that from your friends. It was no bother, really. Blind dates were always something of a disaster.
Zelda waved at you more animatedly, fitting for your bubbly blonde friend. Beside her Dina, a stately brunette, must have told their men to clear some space for you because both men moved to the edge of the bar under the guise of having some conversation amongst themselves.
“I can’t believe Gaston stood you up!” Zelda huffed indignantly when you joined them, referring to your absentee blind date. “What an asshole! I wouldn’t have thought it of him.”
“It’s best for the assholes to weed themselves out early,” you said nonchalantly. It was hardly an upset. You were beginning a new job soon anyway, one that would have you sequestered away from the world for most of the year. Starting a relationship now was impractical.
“I agree,” Dina added. “At least you hadn’t invested any energy in him or wasted any time. Besides, now if we see him out and about, we have every reason to be as nasty as possible to him, which is always fun.”
“To hell with him,” you said and took the beer the bartender slid in front of you. The three of you raised your glasses and clinked them together to a round of, “Merry Christmas!”
“There’s more to celebrate on top of the holidays,” Dina said with a coy smile.
“Yes!” Zelda added excitedly. She clinked your glass again with too much vigor, spilling beer over both your hands. “Cheers to the newest professor at Hogwarts!”
Elation and slight embarrassment rushed through you at her toast. You were proud and excited, and still a bit in disbelief that you had secured such a coveted position. After all, it hadn’t been too long ago that you had graduated from Hogwarts yourself.
“To the new History of Magic Professor!” Dina added and took a drink. “Leave it to you to make that class interesting at last. I must admit I’m shocked the Headmaster liked your pitch.”
“Not nearly as shocked as I am.” A wide grin spread across your lips. “I figured that since I had no real chance of getting the job anyway, I might as well shoot my shot and lay all my aspirations out on the table. In my wildest dreams, I never suspected the Headmaster would actually want a course that teaches both the history of magic and the added practice of the arcane spells we lost to history.”
“Another toast! To no lost limbs or dismembered students in your first term!” Zelda teased.
“At least, to no one I like,” you laughed.
“Just think,” Dina mused with a rosy blush on her cheeks. “Now you’ll be on equal standing with our old professors.”
“Ooo, yes!” Zelda said conspiratorially. “Maybe it’s best you’re going into this job single.”
Nearly every teenage girl at Hogwarts had a crush on one professor or other. You and your friends were no exception. It didn’t help matters that several professors were men in their prime, in their thirties and forties, at the peak of their attractiveness. Zelda had charmed her journal to explode with pink hearts whenever she wrote a certain name in its pages. The hearts smelled like roses and would flutter around her like butterflies. Of course, the name belonged to their charms professor, a dashing man with chic mahogany hair, masculine chest hair that peeked through the buttons in his shirt, and eyes as richly green as the forest after a rain. Dina had been so enamored of their quidditch coach, a tall athlete with golden hair, sky blue eyes and a movie-star smile, that she engineered a few nasty falls from her broom just so he would rush to rescue her and carry her to the hospital wing in his burly arms.
It was undeniable that both professors were attractive, but your interest had never been piqued by nerds or jocks. Bad boys appealed to you, or rather, tall, dark and handsome men. Byronic men with a hint of darkness who would be right at home in a gothic Victorian novel. The sort of man who exuded danger and vigor, the kind who had a predatory presence and a devil-may-care glint in his eye. The kind of man who, when he looked at you, he looked ravenously, leaving you wondering if he was going to steal you away to a dark tower or ravage you against the wall at the ball where you could be discovered at any moment.
As schoolgirls, the three of you spent countless hours in the library and common room discussing your favorite literary men, debating which men were the best. Fortunately, there was never any competition between you for your favorites. Zelda could have gallant Mr. Darcy and Gatsby and Atticus Finch. Dina could claim lively Cpt. Wentworth and Beowulf and Jean Valjean. So long as they left roguish Mr. Rochester and Heathcliff and Edmund Dantes for you. The dark antiheroes and villains who you weren’t really supposed to love. The forbidden kind of man. Prince Charming was so boring compared to the Beast, and what prissy prince could eat you better than the Big Bad Wolf? Naturally, the literary epitome of this was Count Dracula, but until he crossed oceans of time to find you, you were left with a sadly more mortal selection of men.
And if there was ever a man who epitomized tall, dark, handsome, and Byronic, it was Jacques Le Gris. When he stalked down the halls, he looked as if he were roaming his family’s century’s old gothic mansion. When he strolled across the grounds in the evening, it was easy to picture him roaming a Scottish moor. Adding to this imagery was the fact that he often undid the top two buttons of his shirt when taking his evening stroll, revealing the thick cleft of his chest. You thought you were suffering a heart attack one morning when you saw him running shirtless near the lake through the mist before dawn.
In coffee and in men, your tastes ran dark, robust, and strong. It was the Head of Slytherin House and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor who had captivated you from the moment you first saw him. The year he came to Hogwarts as the new defense against the dark arts professor was your last year in school, and despite the number of candles on your birthday cake, there was nothing childish about you at seventeen. The memory of that first day was still as vivid in your mind as the present moment you were living. Professor Le Gris all but storming down the hall in his long purposeful stride, unruly ebony hair dusting his impossibly broad shoulders, his cape swirling in his wake as though it were a living thing. Heat flooded you at the mere memory. Some girls had their sexual awakening in some bumbling experiment with a pimpled teenage boy under the quidditch stands. For you, it was imagining Professor Le Gris’s huge hands running over your body, gripping you so hard in his passion that the bruises he left lingered for days; his long hair falling around his face in sweaty tendrils as he looked down at you, caged beneath his enormous body, running your hands over his broad back and feeling his muscles flex with every thrust into you.
Memories of your darkest fantasies flooded your mind with an almost dizzying intensity. It was unsettling, you had never experienced such vivid, intrusive visions. The feeling of Professor Le Gris’s hands on your body felt as real as the wooden bar you leaned against. The sound of him growling your name in your ear rang deeper than the cheery music in the bar. The rich masculine scent of him overrode the smells around you, and the taste of beer on your tongue was overshadowed by the taste of his skin and arousal.
“Hello?” Zelda snapped her fingers in front of your nose playfully. “Were you listening at all? I asked if you still have a crush on our old defense against the dark arts professor?”
“Oh, Professor Le Gris?” you feigned ignorance, hoping your friends didn’t see the way your pupils had dilated at the thought of him. “I haven’t thought of him in years.”
“Perhaps you can seduce Professor Le Gris and put in a good word for me with Professor Wren and we can have an awkward double date together,” Zelda laughed. “Best we not tell my husband.”
You rolled your eyes and took a drink in an attempt to open your throat back up, since it had closed at the thought of him.
“You’re not a student anymore,” Dina said suggestively. “And rumor has it Professor Le Gris is newly single again after some tawdry fling with one of those jezebels teaching at Beauxbatons. You’re rather lucky, you know? I was devastated to hear that Coach Baldr had married.” She nodded toward her boyfriend at the end of the bar and snickered. “Poor Albert has no clue how precarious a position he has. I would leave him in a moment if that Norse god wanted to take me to Valhalla.”
“Speaking of rumors,” Zelda said, lowering her voice to the quiet tone they once used to gossip in the library. “I still wonder if Le Gris is a werewolf. He has the look, doesn’t he? Those amber eyes, all that bushy hair, and those teeth. The way he looks at you a little too intensely. Can’t you just picture him howling at the moon?”
“My money is still on him being an animagi,” Dina argued. “I agree that he would be a wolf though, like his patronus is. A big black wolf with yellow eyes.”
Unbidden, the image came to you of a big black wolf chasing after you as you ran through a misty forest. Your heart pounded in your ears, almost as loud as the wolf thundering behind you. You inhaled sharply as the wolf lunged at you, sinking his teeth into your neck, pleasurably painful. Your wide eyes shot up as if the bite was real. And met a pair of amber eyes across the room, watching you from a shadowy corner of the bar.
Shock froze you in place, made your muscles seize as though it was Medusa’s eyes you had looked into and been instantly turned to stone. It was lucky actually. Otherwise, you would surely have dropped your beer and made a much more outward spectacle. As it was, you managed to keep a modicum of decorum and show no obvious displays of surprise. Or arousal, even as old fantasies again played in your mind like a song on repeat. You met those eyes steadily, eyes you hadn’t seen in person since your last day as a student at Hogwarts.
Professor Jacques Le Gris watched you intently. The way a wolf watches a fox frolicking unaware. Even the way he leaned casually back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other, was lupine. A predator at ease, waiting for the opportune moment to seize his prey. Though he reclined in his chair, he still dwarfed the small round table for two. He was dressed all in black, the way you had most often seen him. Only tonight, his jacket was off and his sleeves rolled up to expose muscular forearms. His cravat was undone, the tails hanging down on either side of his shirt, framing the vee of chest that was exposed by the top two open buttons. He looked every bit the swarthy rake, a bodice-ripping libertine straight out of a Victorian penny dreadful. A half-smoked cigar was pinched between his index and middle fingers, a tendril of smoke spiraling from its glowing end toward the ceiling as he casually circled the rim of his glass with his forefinger. His eyes had a fiery glint to match the cigar.
Instantly, you wondered how long he had been there. How long he had been watching you. If he had heard you. Judging by the level of his drink and the length of his cigar, he had been there some time before you arrived. His plush lips twitched in a lopsided smirk as he raised his glass to them, watching you over the rim as he took a drink. Another image intruded into your thoughts. Professor Le Gris striding down one of the many long, dark hallways of Hogwarts. He was behind you, stalking you. And of course he caught you. Grabbing your shoulder, he roughly turned you around and pushed you back against the nearest wall. He crowded against you, towered over you. His hips pinned you to the wall and his arms caged you in, his huge hands planted on either side of your head. He leaned in, his lips hot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. Every part of him was huge and hard; his thick chest under your hands, his iron fingers gripping you, his massive cock digging into you through his pants. The thought was too real, utterly taking command of your mind, and your body responded. A deep throb rocked through your core along with a melting heat, dripping through you slowly and deliberately like candle wax.
“I need some air,” you told your friends. They looked at you concerned, so you added convincingly. “It’s nothing. Really. It’s just stuffy in here with the Christmas party crowd. You know how I hate being packed in with the unwashed masses.”
You pushed through the crowded bar and all but bolted outside, hoping the cool winter air would have a chilling effect on your rampant imagination. Outside, you walked briskly, feeling the icy snowflakes land on your cheeks. And the way they steamed on your hotly flushed skin. Thankfully, there were few people outside on Christmas Eve. They were all either home with family or inside at a party like the Leaky Cauldron. Diagon Alley itself was nearly vacant, the shops darkened. Darker still and more vacant was Knockturn Alley. You were counting on it as you rounded the corner into the literal darker alley and trotted past a few darkened storefronts.
In the privacy of a shadowy doorway you leaned against the locked door and let out a heavy breath. You sounded lewd even to your own ears. The overhand of the doorway blocked the snow from falling on you and your skin felt instantly hot again. Another image flooded your mind, and you began to wonder if this was what madness felt like. This vision was different than any you had ever had before, but just as vivid. In your mind’s eye you saw Professor Le Gris standing shirtless in a gothic bedchamber with tall arched windows and a grand king bed, perhaps his chambers at Hogwarts or his home, wherever that was. In that omniscient way you know the thoughts of every character in dreams, you knew the thoughts that plagued him. How he had been consumed by the desire for a particular woman for years. A forbidden woman. Jacques would never seduce a student, fuck a student. No matter how beautiful and enticing, and blatantly responsible for his wolfish hunger you were. In nearly forty years, he had never been so captivated. So enchanted. So cursed.
Clear as a florid memory, you saw Jacques lean against the wall, pressing his head to the cool stone. Here, in private, he could imagine all the things he could never do in reality. Like fuck his favorite student. He knew how wrong it was even to think such disturbing things. The thought made him grin to himself, an indulgent, devilishly handsome grin. He pictured your luscious body. He wondered how sweet you smell. He imagined how delicious you taste. When he focused hard enough, he could feel the tight hot squeeze of you around his cock when he fucked his fist. Stroking his cock, he imagined thrusting into you, over and over and over, feeling you strain and flutter when he stretched you around him. The way he groaned was absolutely filthy when he came, imagining he was filling you until it was leaking out of you. He all but banged his forehead on the stone wall when he finally rested his head there, his hair falling around his face in a disheveled ebony curtain, his bare chest heaving and glistening with sweat.
There in the snowy alley, you watched it all happen in your mind’s eye as though it were your own memory. No, less like a memory and more like watching it happen through a window, like a voyeur. Your friend’s statement flashed in your mind. An exciting, enticing thought.
I am no longer a student.
As you felt a slick heat ruining your panties, you sobered for a moment. Just long enough for one lucid thought that was both thrilling and frightening. You remembered another rumor about Professor Le Gris. He was rumored to be a master of occlumency and legilimency. A legilimens could access another’s mind, see their thoughts and feel their feelings. No one could keep any secrets from a legilimens. Not only could a man with such a skill read your thoughts, he could influence them. He could plant any thought, any feeling, any image into your head as though it was your own. He could make you fantasize about him and remember your most forbidden desires. He could make you see what he felt for you, what he always had. He could make all those thoughts and feelings boil to the surface of your mind, make your desires simmer. He could even make you drip for him, almost on command.
“I’ve known your secrets for some time,” his voice sounded from the alley corner. Real this time, deep and hoarse with desire of his own. Jacques Le Gris leaned against the brick wall of the shop whose doorway you had hidden in. “The way you wanted me to corner you in the halls, pin you there against the wall where you couldn’t escape. Take whatever I want.” His pose was casual, his shoulder leaning against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankle. But his eyes were the opposite, watching you with a burning intensity that all but crackled through the air. “Now, you know my secret, too.” His voice was a growl when he added, “I’ve always wanted you. To ruin you for any other man. To make you mine and keep you all to myself.” He pushed away from the wall and stalked toward you in that predatory way of his. “And now, there’s not a damn thing stopping me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, a feeble attempt to cling to some dignity. A thought flitted through your mind – he was prostrating himself before you. In his own way, he was making himself just as exposed as you were. He was pursuing you, taking the greater risk.
“Don’t you, now?” he teased in a gravelly voice. “I’ll never believe you didn’t know how you tormented me. Seeing you in those little skirts, thinking about those fumble-fucking schoolboys laying their clumsy hands on you. Knowing how much more a man could give you. What I could give you.”
“And what exactly is it that you could give me?” You tilted your chin up defiantly to add, “Professor?”
“Knowledge.” He walked to you until he stood so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him, grinning wickedly at the way his proximity affected you. “Regardless of what else I may be, I’m a very good professor. There is a loophole in the Hogwarts Code of Conduct that you might find interesting. Relevant.” He placed his hand on the door next to your head and leaned in close, his body only inches from yours. “Would you like to learn it?”
“If it saves me the time reading through the Code myself,” you tried to sound nonchalant, certain you failed. In fact, you did need to read those exact Codes before assuming your role as a new professor, but you had until the start of term to do it.
“Still a procrastinator through and through,” Jacques tisked you and leaned closer, his entire forearm now resting on the door next to your head, his face very close to yours. “You should know that relations between fellow Hogwarts professors are forbidden. A fireable offense.” He dropped his head and brought his prominent nose near your neck, and you thought he was going to kiss you there. Instead, he inhaled deeply through his nose, savoring the scent of you like some exotic perfume he had long been denied. “But forbidden only when the relationship postdates the beginning of a professor’s tenure.”
His words seemed to echo in your thoughts, needing a moment to take root. Looking up, you met his eyes. Eyes that glimmered like gold in the snowy night. “Relationships that predate the beginning of a professor’s term are allowed?”
“Clever girl,” Jacques said, his lips still near your neck, his breath steaming hot on your skin. “You always were a quick study. The very best and brightest. Did you think I only wanted you for that luscious ass?”
You tried to detect a note of sarcasm, but found none. You took a steadying breath and put a tentative hand on his chest. It was hard as granite beneath your hand. Jacques placed his free hand over yours, trapping your hand over his heart. You fixed your eyes on his, watching for a flicker of doubt when you asked, “What is it you want with me, Professor? Exactly?”
“Everything,” he growled the single word. It was more than an affirmation. His eyes told you it was a promise.
“We shouldn’t waste a moment, then,” you told him confidently. Fortune favors the bold, as they say.
“You read my mind.” He smiled genuinely, one of the very few you had ever seen on his lips. His toothy smile could have looked gawky, but right now, he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. His chest rose and fell under your hand as he leaned in to kiss you. Before his lips consummated your first kiss, he whispered, “My name is Jacques, not ‘professor.’”
“I’ll save professor for when I want you to teach me something, then,” you made your voice as seductive as possible now that you had decided on your course of action. It was easy now that you were confident he felt the same, that he desired you as fiercely as you did him. You eased your hips toward him, arching your back away from the door. Your lips were already parted when they met his, eager to finally taste the man you had dreamed of for so long.
The taste of him when he kissed you, the feel of him when his powerful body pressed against you, the strength of his hands on you was so much better than anything your imagination had ever conjured. It must have been the same for Jacques because he groaned into your mouth, his free hand dropped to your waist and he pulled you against him almost brutally. You wanted to feel every inch of your body pressed to his. Lifting a leg, you hooked it over his hip and wrapped your arms around his neck, using your entire body to pull him closer. His hand caressed your thigh from your knee up to your ass then squeezed you there. It would be so easy for him to hoist you up off the ground, for you to wrap your legs around him, for him to fuck you right now against the lonely door in Knockturn Alley, while snowflakes gathered in your hair.
“I know what you want. I’ve seen your fantasies,” Jacques purred, pulling back from your lips just enough to speak. “I know them so well they might as well be my own. Tell me which is your favorite and it will no longer be just a fantasy. I’ll enact it for you right now, down to every last detail.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing already?” you teased. You were on fire from his touch and you ached with desire. Thinking of him as you had been was its own kind of foreplay, and now it was torment to prolong it. He was hard and his cock rubbed against you through both your clothing, teasing you erotically in the perfect place. But then, he knew right where your perfect places were. And dear god, he was huge.
“This is too tame for your fantasies,” he laughed darkly. “Tell me your favorite. Although, I think I know it.” He kissed your neck, teasing your skin with his teeth and a light nip. “You want to run from me, pretend you have a chance of escaping. You want me to chase you down, catch you, rip your clothes off and fuck you like an animal. Or is that what the girls call being ravaged these days?” He pressed more weight against you, almost crushing you against the door, but the feel of his body and his weight was wonderful. “You’d pound your fists on my chest and tell me to stop, but you wouldn’t mean a word of it. You want me to take from you what has always been forbidden to give me.” Pulling back just enough to let you breathe, he brought his hand to your throat. His hand easily circled your neck, making you feel small and vulnerable, trapped in his grip. He squeezed. Gently, just enough for you to feel how easy it would be for him to truly take whatever he wanted. His voice sounded dangerous when he told you, “I can do that.”
“Yes,” you said at once without even taking a moment to think. This is what you had wanted for as long as you could remember wanting anything from a man. And Jacques Le Gris was offering to give it to. “I want our first night together to be like a fantasy. But I have a counteroffer.” He kissed you before you could make it, leaving you breathless when he pulled away. You took a breath and finished, “I say we play out my favorite fantasy first and your favorite second.” You cocked an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “If you’re game.”
“Darling, I was born game and I intend to go out that way.” When Jacques grinned at you now, sideways and wicked, the wolf practically jumped out of him. You knew he was telling the truth, that he shared your desires in full. That he wanted you just as desperately as you did him, and that he possibly had for just as long.
“Wait, I can’t just run off.” You stalled him with your hand on his chest. “What will my friends think?”
“What do you want them to think?” He slyly tapped a finger to his temple, his message clear.
“It’s enough for them to think I went home with a handsome man and not to worry about me,” you said coyly. “And it had better be true.”
“So long as you think me handsome, it’s true.” His grin widened and he pushed your arms back up around his neck. “Hold on tight.”
You knew what he was about to do before he did it and asked, “Where are you taking me?”
“The perfect place to give you what you want,” he laughed, a throaty rumbling laugh, and held you so tight you couldn’t have escaped his arms if you wanted.
Suddenly, the world blurred around you and spun as if you stood at the center of a cyclone. Your stomach swooped with the unnerving feeling of falling and a boom like thunder rang in your ears. When the world stopped spinning, your head took another moment to catch up. You swayed against Jacques in what could rightly be described as a swoon. For a few seconds, his hard body against you felt like the only solid thing in the world. He held you as you regained your balance and composure, his arms comforting and secure.
You were no longer in Knockturn Alley, or the city at all. You were surrounded by thick pine trees with snow drifting lazily down around you and leaving a light blanket on the ground. The light was diffused softly from the light of the bright full moon filtered through a thin layer of cloud. It looked like a dream and you wondered if Jacques could possibly be such a powerful legilimens that he could be crafting this world all inside your head. But you knew this was real, and you knew precisely where he had apparated with you. Although it had been years, you had been here many times before.
You shook your head at him fondly, appreciating his humor in the moment. He had taken you to the Forbidden Forest.
Jacques was game indeed. He fully intended to give you exactly what you had always wanted– a man of action instead of those of lesser fortitude who hid behind pretty words. Now that the onus was on you to accept his offer, you found it difficult to keep from trembling with nerves. He was so big, so powerful, so predatory. It was more than a little intimidating to think of him chasing you, catching you, manhandling you. It was almost frightening. But then, that was the point, wasn’t it? It was always a fine line between fear and excitement, between a fright and a thrill.
“What shall it be, beautiful?” Jacques asked. The devious bastard had probably read your mind again. Or your trepidation was that plainly written on your face. “Do you want me to play naughty or nice with you?”
“You brought me here,” you said with as much conviction as you could, making up your mind. “Carpe nocturne.”
“I’ll seize something alright.” Jacques sucked his teeth and bared his canines in a wolfish grin. Moonlight glinted off his teeth and glazed his black hair with silver, giving him a wild look. A beast, at home in these woods. He lowered his chin and fixed his lupine eyes on you, looking ravenous and dangerous. His voice rumbled through you when you told you, “I’ll give you ten seconds to run before I hunt you down and sink my teeth into that delicious ass of yours.”
“Ten seconds, huh?” you teased as you took a few tentative steps away from him deeper into the woods, exaggerating the sway of your hips seductively.
“One.” He cut off your flouncing, deadly serious, and took an ominous step toward you. He rolled one sleeve back up to his elbow where it had slipped down, somehow making that gesture look aggressive.
Smiling, you began lightly trotting through the dense trees. The forest glittered all around you in white snow, silver moonlight, and deep pine trees. The air was crisply-scented and cool, but your skin was so flushed the chill was welcome.
“Two,” he huffed behind you. “Better run a lot faster than that.”
Deciding on a path through the trees, you quickly picked up speed as adrenaline flooded your bloodstream. The idea of the chase, of running from a looming hunter, was exhilarating. You found a small game trail snaking through the forest, a pristine white laceration between the snowy trees, narrower than a footpath. The trees themselves reached their twisted branches out to you, as if to offer their help to hide you from the beast at your heels. A light mist lingered in the forest, dancing around your knees and swirling in your wake as you ran ahead.
You felt it when Jacques gave chase. You couldn’t see him now through the trees and brush that separated you, you certainly couldn’t hear him, but you felt him somehow like an electric shudder through your body, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. It was as if the forest itself felt him too, the atmosphere changing around you now that you were actively being hunted.
A thick pine tree was close ahead of you, its lush low-hanging branches inviting you near, offering you a place to hide from your pursuer. Ducking under its branches, you pressed your back to the trunk on the opposite side of the trail. Snow dusted down on you from the branches you rustled, pleasantly cool on your skin. The fragrant smell of pine and sap surrounded you as you breathed heavily through your nose, trying to slow the hammering in your chest.
Snap.
The sound of a breaking branch reverberated through the trees, making your entire body jolt. You strained your ears to divulge more sounds, but there were none to be heard. The silence around you was so complete it was oppressive after the sounds of your running. It seemed as though the forest itself had gone quiet, and the snow offered more insulation on top of it. The trees surrounding you had become an audience waiting with bated breath to see if you would make your escape. Or if you would fall victim to the hunter at your heels.
Surely, Jacques could have caught up to you by now. You expected him to charge past your hiding spot behind the pine tree only seconds after you and run ahead down the game trail.
Slowly and as quietly as you could, you turned to look around the trunk of the tree that shielded you, daring to breach the side of the tree with only one eye as you checked your backtrail. Nothing. No big bad man in sight. Even the fog had settled again.
You returned your back to the tree and rested your head back against it, still scanning the trail. As you returned to face front, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. You snapped your head around to meet Jacques’s unnerving eyes and hulking body looming right at your shoulder. You almost jumped out of your skin as a pathetic yelp left your throat. Jacques growled as his arm shot around your waist, pulling you roughly against him. He wasted no time in sinking his teeth into your neck in a biting kiss, ensuring he left a bruise to mark the presence of his lips.
“Jacques!” You jumped away from him, fueled by reflexes alone. Jacques let you. You took a moment to steady yourself, filling your lungs with air too slowly for your spinning head and rubbing the fresh mark on your neck. It stung, but sensually so.
“I’ll only count to five this time.” Jacques told you as he stepped toward you with a hint of menace and a devilish grin curling his lips.
Hungry lust radiated off Jacques in waves, so thick you could feel it on the air like a spectral presence. And it was all for you. He indeed thrilled you and also frightened you just a little, just enough for that rush of adrenaline to make you giddy. He certainly knew what he was doing, playing this little game of yours, or he had read your desires as clearly as a script and played his role to perfection. Sweat shone on his chest through the open vee in his shirt, a blush tinting his chest and neck. He looked voracious, driven mad by his desire. Jacques awakened the animal part of your brain that civilized society had tried for millennia to tame away, the part of you that wanted to be captured, taken, and utterly ravaged. Jacques was enjoying this even more, his huge chest heaving from the thrill of the hunt. You could see how it sparked a primal urge deep inside of him, probably even more poignant that it did in you. You could also see the evidence of his aching arousal tenting his pants. You were no better off. You had been melting inside all night, it seemed.
Backing away from him, you took a few deep breaths as you prepared to run again, unable to rein your pulse back down from a gallop. He registered your excitement and winked at you, enjoying your game. Laughing, you bounded away then skipped into a run that carried you further along the trail and deeper into the welcoming mystery of the woods.
The trail narrowed and became overgrown as the forest closed in around you. Deeper inside the forest, the woods grew wilder, much as the man chasing you was growing wilder with every pursuing step. You knew he was closing in on you swiftly. You slowed enough to look behind you. You were just in time to see Jacques lowering his massive body as he lunged at you with a growl. His shoulder connected with your waist as his strong arms gripped you, tackling you to the ground beneath him. He was careful with you. He’d never actually tackle you with his full force or risk hurting you. His arm hit the ground hard beneath you, cushioning your body when you met the cold wet snow. His heavy body covered you with enough weight to pin you but not quite enough to crush you.
Laying on your back beneath his sweaty body, your arms flew around him. One hand fisted harshly into his damp hair and one hand dug sharp nails into his muscular shoulder, earning a groan in response. Jacques crashed his lips down against yours in a hard, desperate kiss, his hot tongue twining with yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. He kissed you hungrily, licking into your mouth and catching your lips between his teeth. He brought an enormous hand to your neck, again wrapping around your throat easily, squeezing just enough to make your pulse quicken and pound against his palm, adding to the effect of being captured.
“Do you like making me chase after you?” he asked into your mouth. “You must, since you’ve teased me for years. The torment was almost more than I could stand. Do you know how hard it was for me to resist taking what I know you wanted to give me?”
“I like being chased,” you whispered back. Feeling his weight press down upon you as you kissed, your legs fell open to invite him to settle between them. “But I like being caught by you even more.”
A low moan rumbled in his chest and he grinned against your mouth. The hand at your neck smoothed down to your breast, kneading you and making you gasp.
Moving his hand lower, Jacques’s fingers dipped inside your pants, inside your panties, discovering how hot and wet you were already. You were powerless to resist succumbing to him, your body not allowing you to maintain any coy pretenses. Jacques’s mouth moved down to your neck as he plunged two thick fingers into you, curling them firmly against that spot he knew could make you scream. His fingers worked you into a frenzy as his teeth and lips attended to your neck and throat. He began rutting against you, his cock digging into the back of his own hand, which was still making you writhe on his fingers. Even that light movement caused your body to shift on the ground. The snow beneath you had melted, the ground now soupy under your back.
“This is about to get messy if you want me to take you here, fuck you on the ground like an animal,” he said huskily, pulling back from your lips. “Do you want that? The beast from your fantasy? Or I can show you what I’ve always fantasized about doing to you instead. It’s much simpler, I’m afraid.” He kissed you again. “But you’ll like it.”
“You’ve already proven better than my fantasies,” you said, running your hands over the breadth of his back. “I trust your judgment.”
“Hold on,” he told you as he pulled his fingers from you. He collapsed on you and gripped you in a strong bear hug, but you barely had time to feel the heavy weight of him.
The ground fell away beneath you and you squeezed your eyes shut as your stomach swooped in that familiar way. Thunder boomed around you and the whole world seemed to shake from it. The cool air whisked away from you, replaced by a welcoming warmth. The snow and ice of the forest was replaced by the golden glow of a fire dancing inside a marble fireplace. The sky above you was replaced by an arched cathedral ceiling, and the ground beneath you exchanged for crisp sheets on a king bed. The only things that remained from the forest were the silver moonlight peeking in through the tall, arched windows, and Jacques above you, grinning down at you, the feeling of his powerful body covering you. He traced hot kisses down your throat and chest as he rose back off the bed to roughly shrug off his shirt and work his belt free.
The sight of him shirtless was breathtaking, you felt yourself growing wetter just from that sight alone. His chest was glorious. You had never seen a chest so thick and expansive. His shoulders were absurdly broad and made even more impressive by his fit abdomen. The taper of his waist, the lines of muscle along his hips, even the trail of hair descending from his navel, all worked in conjunction to practically drag your eyes down toward his cock. After pulling your shirt off, you centered yourself on the bed and arched your back seductively. Jacques reached for your pants and yanked them the rest of the way off, tossing them aside as he stood over you at the side of the bed. His eyes glistened like whiskey on ice as his gaze caressed your body.
“As many times as I’ve imagined you like this, you’re better,” he said reverently in a voice that was all smoke and gravel.
You watched the muscles in his arms flex as he undid his belt and pants. Without taking his eyes from you, he unceremoniously shoved his pants down, stepping out of them quickly. Towering above you, standing totally naked, he palmed his enormous erection and let you admire the sight of him, the cocky bastard, watching you with his molten gaze. You expected Jacques to have a nice cock, as big as he was everywhere else. You had imagined it embarrassingly often, but the sight of him still made your breath hitch. It was practically monstrous, and deliciously thick. He would have injured you as a schoolgirl, and you couldn’t be entirely certain he wouldn’t now. Another bit of danger he offered. There would be a limit to how rough he could be with you, and you were thankful that he was seasoned enough to know it.
“If you can’t handle me, tell me now.” Of course, he couldn’t resist teasing you.
In response, you held his eyes firmly as you reached to undo your bra, slinging it across the room to be lost with your other discarded clothing. You raised one eyebrow at him, meeting his challenge. Jacques walked to the edge of the bed, pausing briefly to absorb the sight of you as you lay spread before him, the best Christmas gift he had ever received, before he lowered himself to the mattress and crawled over your body.
Eagerly, your legs spread for him again and he settled between them. Jacques caged you in with his impressive arms on either side of your body as he bent over you, a predator over his prey, and kissed at your navel. His kisses were open mouthed and he lavished you with his tongue. He trailed his mouth down until he placed a wet kiss at the top of your pussy, still covered by the lace of your thong. Bringing a hand down to the thin line of fabric at your hip, he yanked it roughly, ripping your thong away from you and tearing it apart with one motion. His aggressive lust had you aching with the need to be filled. Jacques paused and just admired you, the way you glistened with desire. He lowered himself, wanting to kiss you there, taste you, make you cum on his tongue. But you stopped him.
“The first time you make me cum, I want it to be with your cock,” you told him huskily. “I want to feel you inside of me when I cum.”
Jacques grinned up at you before trailing his nose and lips slowly back up the center of your body as he crawled up into position above you. He paused to inhale deeply at your throat, taking in the scent of you and exhaling in a low heady groan. He kissed you passionately and deep. His taste was smokey and lush, making you shiver. His weight was resting on you now, pushing you down into the mattress. You could feel the muscles in his back and shoulders tense and flex under your hands as he moved, and his heavy chest pressed against yours, a sharp contrast to his soft lips. The unduly thick head of his cock nudged into you, teasing at your entrance. When you bucked your hips against him, he plunged into you in one fluid stroke. He rolled his hips against you gently, giving you time to adjust to his size. Your nails raked his back as a pornographic moan escaped your lips at the pleasure of being so completely full of him. Jacques’s mouth returned to diligently kiss you as the rolling of his hips became shallow thrusts. When your hips started moving to meet his own in time with his thrusts, he began thrusting into you more passionately.
Jacques propped himself up with his hands on either side of your head. Groaning again at an unabashed volume, he pulled back and slammed his entire length into you. It skirted the line of painful pleasure, but he felt so good. He saw your features rendered beautifully distraught by pleasure and kept that angle and rhythm that he knew was driving you in exactly the direction you wanted. You fluttered and tightened around him, your orgasm imminent. Jacques could feel it. Losing control himself, he fucked you harder, pistoning into you roughly. His whole body tensed when he felt the pulsing orgasm surge through you, shooting through him like a current of pleasure connected the two of you. Jacques’s thrusts grew erratic, his shoulders and arms quivered, and he came moments after you on a deep thrust. You reached to his thick, damp hair, tangling your fingers in it and pulling him down to settle over you. He looked down at you adoringly then kissed you lovingly. Though it was unspoken, the emotion was unmistakable.
After lavishing you slowly and indulgently, he rolled onto his back and pulled you down against his enormous chest. Wrapping the arm beneath you around your waist tightly, he held you in something between a cuddle and a bear hug and caressed you with his free hand. His huge body was hot beneath you, his arms radiating warmth around you, and his lips searing as they gently kissed along your hairline. The man was an absolute fever dream. He could keep you in an erotic stupor for hours if he wanted.
“Where are we?” you asked lazily, drunk on the rush he had given you.
“Normandy,” he purred, his hands gentle and warm on your skin. “My home, precisely speaking.”
“This looks like the inside of a castle,” you said of the bedroom with its stone walls and arched windows.
“You could call it that.” He smirked. “Regardless of the descriptor, it will accommodate us well until the start of term.” He brought his fingers under your chin, tipping your face up to look at him. “Provided you’ll accept my invitation to stay with me until then.”
“I’ll need a change of clothes,” you laughed.
“Not for what I have planned,” he laughed too, and rolled back over you again.
Briefly you wondered at the stir you would cause when the pair of you returned to Hogwarts in January. Together. Gossip spread through those enchanted halls like wildfire and you knew a professorial couple would be a source of it for a long time to come. You had no time to dwell on the thought now. Jacques demanded all of your attention elsewhere.
************************************************************************
© safarigirlsp 2024
Tagging some bewitching beauties 🖤
@babbushka @mrs-gucci @mrs-zimmerman @gabesprincess @maybe-your-left @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @cas-backwards-tie @queeniebee @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @reyloaddict55 @heartlight-starlight @clydesfavoritegirl @celiholland @reveluving @reylokisses @queen-of-elves @kyloremus @looking4mymagicshop @lumberjack00fantasies
#my stuff!#my writing#hogwarts!jacques le gris#adam driver#jacques le gris x reader#Jacques le gris x you#halloween#winter#best#fic#werewolf
25 notes
·
View notes
Note
groppy groppy groppy groppy groppy
Please?
Hello Anon!! Thank you for your prompt ❤️
I absolutely love Groppy, but I have such a hard time writing it, sadly 😅
I used your prompt to try and help me get over a bit of writers block I'm currently suffering from, so hopefully it makes muster!
It's short, but sweet! Enjoy~
It was the anniversary. Branch never forgot. How could he? After all, he was the reason his grandmother was no longer alive.
Quietly, he walked through the woods, a small candle clutched in his hand to help guide his way in the early morning twilight, while a small satchel over his shoulder weighed him down. He never stayed close to the village on the anniversary, too worried that some other troll would come along and interrupt him. No, this was a sacred tradition he held with no one but himself, in the most secluded spot he could find, while remaining close enough to the village to stay safe.
Once he thought he was a decent enough distance from the village (even further out than the hole he'd begun digging for his bunker), he settled himself between the roots of a tree. Carefully, he dug into his satchel, pulling out a well loved picture frame first. He brushed his fingers against the frame reverently, before setting it carefully against the base of the tree, propped up so it was in no danger of toppling over. Next, he pulled a few books out, between the pages of which carefully pressed and preserved dried flowers had been stored, just for the occasion. He set the flowers gingerly around the photo, affixing one just so to the top right corner of the frame.
When he was finally satisfied with how the flowers were arranged, he shifted back, allowing just enough space to set the candle down without worry of setting the flowers on fire. He then set his hands on his knees and took a deep breath, before quietly murmuring, "Good morning, Grandma," into the crisp morning air.
He sat like that for a while, quietly conversing with the photo, explaining to the memory of his grandmother how his life was going, and apologizing for failing her, until the sun began to rise above the horizon and the flame of his candle guttered out against a cool breeze. He figured that was about his queue to pack up and leave, when he heard a twig snap in the underbrush not far from where he was sat.
Quickly, Branch stood up, pulling a sharply whittled stick from his hair, a snarl on his face as he brandished it. "Who's there?!" he all but snarled, hackles rising as the bush in front of him began to quake.
"Phew!" A bright pink head popped out form the bushes, small twigs and leaves caught and tangled between strands of hair, "There you are! Man, you are one tough troll to track down!"
Branch visibly deflated, his arms dropping to his sides as his posture relaxed. "Poppy? What are you doing out here?"
"Looking for you, silly!" Poppy chirped, turning to pull herself free from the bushes, and somehow managing to tear the bottom hem of her dress as it caught on a particularly stubborn bramble. She scowled at it for a moment, but otherwise did not let it dampen her chipper mood and bright smile.
Branch sniffed in an uninterested manner, tucking his stick back into his hair. "And, why exactly, were you looking for me?"
"Because! I have an invitation for you," Poppy said, digging into her hair before offering a thick piece of cardstock to Branch, which was absolutely covered in glitter.
"No, thank you," Branch grunted, nose wrinkled as he gingerly pushed Poppy's hand and glittery invitation away from his person.
"Awww, come on, Branch," Poppy sighed, wiggling the invitation at him, "It's not like you have anything better to do!"
"As I matter of fact, I do," Branch growled, folding his arms over his chest with a scowl.
"Oh, yeah? And what might that….be," Poppy trailed off as her gaze obviously caught on the flowers and picture frame set up amongst the roots of the tree they stood next to. Branch swallowed thickly as he immediately side stepped to try and block them from her view.
"None of your business," Branch ground out, even as Poppy shoved past him to get a better look at the make-shift shrine.
"Who is that?" Poppy asked, pointing at the picture as she turned her head to look at Branch, open curiosity on her face.
"My grandma," Branch bit out, already wishing this conversation was over and that Poppy would go about her marry way and leave him alone.
"Why do you have a photo of her, with all these dead flowers?" Poppy asked, an air of confused disgust as she said the word 'dead'.
"They're not dead! Well…I mean, they are. But they're pressed! It's a way to keep flowers so they don't get all rotten and gross," Branch huffed, bodily moving in front of Poppy again to try and push her away from the roots.
"Okay…but why do you have them all set up around a picture of your grandma?" Poppy continued, not seeming to be phased in the least as Branch shoved her backwards.
"Because she's dead!" he finally snapped loudly, giving Poppy a hard shove, which made her stumble backwards. She looked like she was in a bit of a stupor as Branch sucked in a deep breath to try and calm himself down. "She died, so I was…ugh. It's none of your business!" He turned away, hunching his shoulders around his ears as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Now, go away."
"Branch…" Poppy's voice was soft as she spoke, and Branch could hear the faint sounds of her foot steps in the grass as she approached again. He braced himself in preparation for her to try and hug him, only to let his shoulders drop in surprise as her footsteps continued past him. He turned his head to see what she was doing, about to snap at her to leave again, only to watch as she carefully knelt in front of the photo, patting down her skirt so it lay neatly over her lap.
"Hello, Mrs. Branch's grandma, Ma'am," Poppy said quietly to the photo, earning a surprised little sound from Branch. "You should know that your grandson is a really stubborn troll, who needs to learn to have fun once and a while."
At that Branch made an indignant sound and marched over to Poppy, dropping into a cross legged position next to her with a scowl on his face. "I do not! I have fun!"
"Digging holes in the dirt is not 'fun', Branch," Poppy scolded, though she didn't look up at him as she reached out to fix a couple of the flowers that had shifted in the morning breeze.
"It can be," Branch groused, almost sulking as Poppy chuckled quietly next to him.
"Sure it can. Anyway…It's nice to meet you. I'm Poppy," the pink troll offered, addressing the photo.
Branch watched as the princess began to speak animatedly to the photo, much as he'd been doing before she'd arrived. It surprised him a bit, that Poppy could so easily shift gears from trying to gang press him into going to a party, to quietly speaking to his grandmother's photo like she was right there. He supposed he wasn't the only troll who spoke to lost loved ones - he was just more private about it.
Poppy's rambling speech slowly seemed to come to an end after a few minutes, her final sentiment to Branch's grandmother being, "He's a good troll. I think he just needs to let loose a bit sometimes."
Branch snorted at the very idea, but couldn't help the small smile that curled his lips. He wasn't sure how, but Poppy managed to make his heart feel just a little bit lighter on a day that it was meant to feel heavy. And, perhaps, if he still had his colors, she would've made him shine just a little bit brighter.
#trolls#dreamworks trolls#trolls branch#trolls poppy#groppy#broppy#trolls fanfic#prompt fill#things that i wrote
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
In the Pines, Alice Notley
#quotes#quote#poetry#poem#alice notley#id in alt text#this absolutely took me out for some reason#especially in the context of the rest of the book it was devastating
904 notes
·
View notes
Text
live drama adaptations (1/?)
#doodles#duck scribbles#minicomic tag#midoyuzu#sorry not really in this one but it leads up to it i promise#(tori does not tell him)#yuzumido#tori himemiya#yuzuru fushimi#midori takamine#enstars#lazier than my usual minicomics but GOD this week has been absolute hell for me this alone took too much out of me#but im hanging in there (i am Really Not) (pretend i am) (im fine) (lying)#ignore the bad manga title i really didnt know what to do w it i almost left it as ''some manga/drama''#nobodys asking but plot of the manga is a romcom drama between 2 cafe workers. side chara/love rival initially is set up to be going after#the FL but has actually been in love w the ML the whole time (i put too much thought into this for no reason)#anyways tori reads the manga himself after the revelation#i think abt yuzuru getting acting jobs a lot more post togenkyo often and here we are
99 notes
·
View notes
Text
Disagree with the theory that Mac and Denis were fucking in s5/etc on the basis that everything going on is much funnier if it's wholly unconsummated
#iasip#And also because I don't think that was happening but I can see the reasoning.#See it took me a very long time but after being beat over the head with it every day on my dashbaort I have come around to#believing it's being written as mutually gay on some level and is even arguably basically canon#but now I'm stuck on the notion that they should edge it out a lot longer without anything absolute 'happening'#See how ridiculous it can get#In fact I don’t necessarily want anything to happen I love it like this
52 notes
·
View notes
Note
What are your in depth thoughts about MK’s and Sun Wukong’s vs MK’s and Macaque’s relationships? Because lemme tell you I’ve got so many it’s essay worthy
i saved you for last <3 but i honestly don't know if i can talk about this coherently T^T
short answer: they are on different levels in 2 ways, MK's comfortability and in how they grow
long answer: *inhales*
so you see, there are many levels that are set between the two relationships. and by levels i mean power dynamics, casualness, formalities, respect, and idolization :)
MK and Sun Wukong
with MK and Sun Wukong their relationship began very formal. MK was simply Wukong's student (with a wish to one day be close friends with his mentor/idol), but then by around 1x09, there becomes this shift in their dynamic. in this episode, we do get insight into how far Wukong actually cares for MK because for about most of s1, the monkey keeps his distance while putting up a laid back attitude. but after MK admits to his desire of being "good enough, like [Wukong]," you will notice that Sun Wukong, slowly starts to pull down his walls for MK. he even invites MK to stay over with him for New Years (2x00), despite knowing that it was more likely for MK to leave and celebrate with his friends. (WHICH MK EVEN SAYS BECAUSE BY THIS POINT MK COMES TO REALIZE THAT THEIR RELATIONSHIP MIGHT NEVER BREACH INTO THE FRIENDSHIP HE ROMANTICIZED IN HIS HEAD. THUS SHOWING HOW THE TWO ARE DOING A REVERSE IN THEIR DYNAMIC AND- *gets dragged away to calm down*)
as i was saying.
in s2, Wukong ends up leaving to investigate a way to stop LBD before things blow over (which succeeds and fails bc it did, in fact, blow over). he didn't do it because he believed that it would hurt MK. personally, my assumption is that Sun Wukong didn't really see himself as that great of a mentor and that MK had been able to quickly pick up on new moves and techniques without much help from him, and with that thought, he believed that by leaving MK nothing but scrolls and a goal, MK would still be capable of mastering the new skills (which he did, thereby reinforcing that idea). but unfortunately, our beloved monkey king forgot that while MK is a very capable individual of incredible power, he's not confident in himself. he's simply "just loud" about himself and his prowess (which, if you noticed, MK grew even more quieter about this in seasons 2 & 3....fascinating).
so now there's this manufactured push to bring back their previous formality because Wukong is not completely ready to tell MK the truth despite how much he cares and trusts him (because, and this is my opinion, Wukong really wants to ensure that MK is not too involved in something as dangerous as LBD because she can get into your head and she can make matters worse for everybody). said manufactured push confuses MK because they had come so far from 1x01 and the distance they had before. sure, it's not as close as s3 and s4, but it definitely felt like they were at the cusp of something. this leaves MK sort of in his own limbo on where he stands with the Monkey King, and even if he sought advice about this with his friends, none of them have met the guy yet and can only make opinions based on their assumptions of what they feel like is going on (*cough, cough* Pigsy *cough, cough*).
and even after s2, in s3 Wukong is exhausted, a lot of his power depleted, and has to try and mingle civilly with MK's friends on a mission he originally planned to do alone (a suicidal mission to obtain the Samadhi Fire, if i might add). his reasoning for refusing at the beginning is because they are mortals, which MK misinterprets to mean that Wukong does not think MK can handle this mission and wants to prove himself.
omg their relationship is so complicated and messy T^T i love it
anyway, MK's and Sun Wukong's relationship is a push and pull between both people wanting to uphold and prove their worth to the other (Wukong lying to keep MK ignorant of a danger the monkey plans to eradicate in secret VS MK pushing himself into becoming powerful in order to prove himself as someone swk sees as worthy to trust). also, their dynamic is literally a platonic slow burn that slowly brings them closer and closer with s4 beginning with them (swk mostly lol) trying to be more honest and upfront about their thoughts and feelings. and s4 ending with the two actually fighting for each other and protecting each other and fighting WITH each other and T^T it's so beautiful. but also because their dynamic is a slow burn, that provides ample time to seed in doubt and insecurities and wanting to bottle up your issues to keep the peace and-
ugh T^T them <3
(side note: the actual timeline of this show is a tad confusing to me. how long was s1? a month, a couple months, a week? how long was s2? how long is the gap between seasons???? idk and i've tried to find something feasible to work with but i'm mostly just taking an "academic" estimation)
but now onto Macky and MK's relationship!
Mackenzie and MK
this one despite how rocky it looks is not a slow burn dynamic. it's got a fun roller coaster of levels because it goes "secret mentor/student" to "enemies" to "frenemies?" to "morally dubious but is actually a softie" to "potential mentor 2.0???" and i love it.
so, MK and Macky's dynamic begins in 1x09 (the blessed episode) since that's Mackackle's introduction to the show and MK begins to train under him in secret because MK is frustrated with swk's teaching methods. through the brief montage of MK's training, i can't help but notice the words and phrasing Macky uses:
Mackarell: [sounding disappointed] Not bad...[chuckles] [in a mocking tone] don't get me wrong, but I was expecting a little more with someone of your power.
MK: [is defensive] H-hey, I've got more- I can give way more than that! [sighs] I can do better.
Macaroni: [bemused] Kay, maybe show me next time.
ok, honestly, i just wanna talk about this. because if you heard it without seeing Marconi's face and how they animated him, you could side-step the the fake disappointment and mocking tone. what he's saying on the surface, isn't anything malicious or cruel. he is acting like a mentor and it appears like he is trying to encourage MK so he can stop hesitating. but that's not what Mac's really doing.
he is acting disappointed in MK because MK has a need to prove himself. the scene before MK meets Macaque, he is with Wukong and is frustrated by how slow his training is. he knows he can do some pretty powerful moves if his mentor allowed him to, if only he can prove to him that he can level up from the "baby stuff", if only he could have someone see that potential and train him in something more his "style." how convenient that right after he vents his frustrations MK encounters exactly what he wants, but oh no, they're disappointed in his strength and prowess, he has to prove that wrong, he CAN prove that wrong.
see where i'm going? MK fell for Macky's web, hook-line-and-sinker because it was tailor made for him. BUT! this mentor/student dynamic does not last very long. and that's mostly because it never a long term relationship in the slightest. Macky always planned to use MK's powers for his own, so now the two are slotted into the enemies level. they were never on equal ground like MK thought, or even on a similar mentor/student level MK has with Wukong. Macaquack absolutely abused that dynamic for his own gain and MK lost his trust for it.
MK cannot trust Macky, why should he? in s2, MK and Macky's relationship is mostly antagonistic because Mk cannot trust Mac and Mac enjoys tormenting the guy by hanging his insecurities over him. they are not on equal ground. Mac only sees MK as some mortal child who is in over his head and thinks he can be a Wukong 2.0 while MK sees Mac as someone who betrayed his trust, tried to kill him and his mentor and it is very personal.
but then there's this interesting choice made by lmk. Mac warns MK of an upcoming danger. why does he do it? he had just proven that he is an enemy! but also, he ends up freeing MK's friends on the basis that it "wasn't fun anymore". why take pity (should we even call it pity) on MK enough to tell him that "big things are coming"?
why choose to give MK some (very vague) advice about what's to come? what caused Macky to decide to offer this information?
well, 1st it is clearly the writers' way of showing that there is more than meets the eye with Macky. this is a little indicator for the audience about "hey! keep an eye on him! he's more complex than you think! he's more than a stock villain!" 2nd, this is the very first push into Mac's more amiable relationship with MK.
in s3, Macky is under LBD's command and has to follow her orders or else she might send him back to the Diyu either by ripping his soul from his body, or encasing him in ice/bone. he is only on her side to survive. he doesn't even plan to stay. instead, it really looks like Mac wants to escape from her hold (which he eventually plans out after learning about the gang's mission to find the Rings of Samadhi).
when it comes to MK, Mac is very antagonistic. @shadowpeachyuri made a really great analysis on Macky's antagonistic behavior in s3. especially in 3x04 where he taunts and mocks MK for his self worth and powers, but he's also stalling from his own mission in retrieving MK for LBD. most of s3 is him stalling and picking fights with people rather than do his own job. not to mention, that he purposefully separated MK and Wukong believing it would be easier to retrieve them. but why all the stalling and hesitation? because he's upset with his circumstances, and wants to take out on everyone? yeah, that's definitely part of it.
still in s3 Mac is not trying to befriend MK, he's not trying to help him either, but he also isn't truly trying to catch him. his main objective is getting out of dodge, escaping and finding somewhere that is far from here. yet, he can't help but challenge MK into using his powers, offer some (very biased and skewed) advice on who the guy should trust. and it's not until "Embrace Your Destiny" when his on-again and off-again mood finally gets to MK because he saved MK, he brought MK to Mei and he gave them the Not-Mayor guy for information.
just...this whole exchange T^T
Mackardy: Look, I brought you the Lady Bone Demon's lapdog, but I'm not up for being a hero, kid.
here lies, Macky trying to tell MK that he is not on his side. he has been constantly antagonistic and while LBD is also his enemy, he was planning to just give MK and his gang enough help for them to plan out how to defeat her.
MK: We don't need you to beat him. We just need you to keep him busy. As long as he's [Monkey King] under her control the Mech's vulnerable. We can do this! You can do this.
enter MK, looking at Macky with such optimism and arguing back at Macky with the guy's own logic. it won't be a battle to try and defeat Wukong, Macky just has to "keep him busy". Stall, like he's been doing for all of s3. and he sprinkles in a bit more optimism and encouragement to sweeten the deal.
Macaroon: Nice speech, kid but it's not gonna-
MK: [frustrated growl] STOP! You keep playing at being this bad guy, acting like you're just in it for you! But I know deep, deep down: you're not that guy. Help us. Make it right.
Macadoodle: I'm not a hero, bud
MK: Then be a warrior!
personally, i feel like this is the moment where the two's new dynamic begins. also, Macky and MK's relationship feels a but more on equal footing. neither of them hold a pedestal or an image of who they are. MK is able to figure out that a lot of Macky's outward appearance is just that, an appearance. and Macky is able to see that MK isn't some Wukong 2.0 he imagined up in his head in s1. MK is the Monkey King's successor but he is also his own person who will and has made different decisions than Wukong.
after s3, their dynamic is very similar to mentor/student in 4x10, but not in the same way as in 1x09. Macky isn't trying to be manipulative or play with double meanings, he's actually trying to help and figured a video game rpg would be the best bet since MK likes video games. MK is able to snap back at Macky and isn't afraid of showing the monkey his worries and fears (something he's struggling to with Wukong and vice versa) because Macky has seen that side of him already.
idk it's fascinating. i feel like i'm repeating myself a lot, but my main takeaway is that MK and Wukong have a slow burn friendship that began with formalities and over the seasons, they gradually grew closer and more comfortable with admitting that they care about each other (mostly Wukong needed this help but it's ok). and MK and Macky's relationship though began as enemies, grew into 2 characters who view each other as equals by the end and respect ach other loads.
there be my thoughts *jazz hands*
#lego monkie kid#lmk#lmk mk#lmk sun wukong#lmk six eared macaque#lmk qi xiaotian#lmk meta#lmk analysis#lmk sunburst duo#lmk soysauce duo#sunburst duo#soysauce duo#bestie i am so sorry it took me this long to finish your answer T^T#i was saving it for last just so i could take my time with it but may have forgotten that my actual time to write all of this was limited#anyway#this was a lot of fun to discuss#you are absolutely free to tell me your thoughts!#i wanna know your essay worthy thoughts profa ;-;#also i single out pigsy at some point here but it's mostly bc besides all of swk's enemies he's the biggest critic of swk who's close to MK#his reasons for being upset at the guy are beCAUSE he unintentionally hurt MK and essentially neglected the guy in his eyes#however: he is an extremely harsh and biased critic not even bothering to hear the other side bc of his distrustful nature & protectiveness#once pigsy somes to a conclusion you will need to provide some solid evidence to back up your argument WHICH WUKONG ALMOST NEVER DOES#the grind for meta is real but so is my commitment to the bit :3#you will never find me spelling mackadoo's name right unless it's for fic#also i think i my macky analysis might be a tad off bc i kept repeating myself so sorry about that T^T#jfc this took me 3 days ;A;#enjoyed every bit of it#asks
40 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
finillatte
fin’s archive
elliesasks
Ellie's Asks
madcom
mad-commerce
appeasingvenus
Themme Fatale
xxfangirl365xx
Xxfangirl365Xx