#(I actually have NEVER BEEN ABLE TO MEET THEM because THEY LIVED FAR AWAY)

[lavenderspence]

Cute, Outraged Genius | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, Spencer being a bit of a technophobe

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Spencer comes home only to find you using a kindle…instant outrage

A/N: This is just a cute little story about Spencer being our little technophobe genius. I actually don’t own a kindle, so don’t know how those work or anything, but physical books are in fact superior, so.

The quote at the end is from “Book Lovers” by Emily Henry

masterlist

You loved his apartment, sometimes more than you loved yours. Being in his space, surrounded by his things - his books, his clothes, the silly art he indulged in. Being drowned by his scent, meters upon meters of space he’d touched, it soothed you like nothing else could.

The peace you felt whenever you were in his space was unparalleled.

You loved his bedroom, the plushness of his bed, his closed, where you found yourself stealing his shirts and cardigans, never giving them back. 

Your favorite place in apartment 23 was his couch, where he found you often enough, when he returned from a case, curled up with a book. You loved the blanket thrown on the back and the windows that allowed for the whole apartment to light up with the sunlight. 

And then there were his bookshelves, in clear view from said couch. Filled with his favorite books, special editions he held close to his heart, or some that brought him knowledge. The shelves, that now also held some of your favorite books too.

Reading, books, was the thing that had brought you together in the first place, so when he’d made space for your clothes in his closet and your toiletries in the bathroom, he’d also made space for your books to sit beside his own. 

He’d insisted it made the place feel less like it was his own, and more like it was shared, even though you weren’t living together. It warmed your heart to know, that he saw his apartment as a home for both of you.

Seeing your books among his own, made you fall even more in love with him because he knew what they meant to you. So much so, he tumbed through a few, leaving sticky notes with his little thoughts between the pages.

As for your first meeting, it was funny.

You’d met a year ago, at a cafe close to his apartment. Stuck in a long queue, waiting for your turn, your nose had been buried into a book, completely oblivious to your surroundings. Spencer had been standing behind you, and like the nosy dork he is, had been reading along with you, over your shoulder.

When he’d pointed out an inaccuracy in the plot, compared to real life, you’d screamed, slamming the book shut, and successfully making a fool of yourself in front of the whole cafe. 

He’d apologized bashfully, and asked to buy your drink for you, and then lingered for a short conversation before he’d been called away on a case. 

In his hurry to get to the FBI on time, he’d forgotten to take your number. Two weeks later, and after a lot of blaming himself for being a dumbass, he’d seen you again, nose buried into another book, sipping a beverage next to the window of the cafe. 

You hadn’t attached puzzling looks this time, and he’d gotten your number. A year later, you couldn’t be more happy for the fact that your boyfriend sometimes didn’t really get social cues.

You smiled, thinking back on that day. 

You focused on your book again, eyes dancing around the page, following with rapt attention. 

Reading was one of the few things that brought you peace, quieted your brain, and improved your mood. 

Sometimes you envied Spencer’s genius, being able to go through War & Peace at breakfast, without batting an eye. Reading, and reading, and still having the time for other things. If, in your lifetime, you could read as many books as Spencer had read thus far in life, you’d be happy. 

You were giggling, kicking your feet, and enjoying your book, when you heard the telltale sign of Spencer arriving home - his key being inserted into the lock. 

You didn’t move your eyes away from the book, having reached a great part of the book. 

The door opened, and in walked your boyfriend, a peep in his step, happy he’d get to see you and spend time with you after 6 days of being away. 

He left his keys in the bowl next to the door, freed himself of his shoes, and set his messenger bag down. 

He walked further in, noticing the vanilla and chocolate scent in the air - you’d followed tradition, baking a small tray of chocolate chip cookies as a welcome for him. 

He stood behind you, draping his hands around your neck, and leaned over to kiss the side of your head gently, finally diverting your attention away from the book. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured, warm breath tickling your neck next, as he kissed around your ear and pulse point. 

“Hi there, babe.” you were whispering too, finally happy to be in your own bubble. “How are you? How was the case?” you asked, just like you did every time, just like you did every day. You always wanted to know how he was, you wanted to know about his day, and he’d gotten so used to it and had done it so many times for you too, it had become routine, a way to show each other you cared and loved each other. 

“I’m good, a little tired maybe,” he nuzzled your neck, eyes shut in contentment, “The case was tough, but successfully closed at the end,” he rarely elaborated, only if someone was hurt, or the case had taken a toll on his mental health. Other than that, he didn’t like bringing the gory details of the cases home with him. 

Home was his space with you, where you laughed, and sometimes cried. Where you cuddled and made love, read together, or to each other, where you cooked, where you relaxed. It was no place for the realities of a BAU profiler. 

“What are you doing?” it was a simple question. 

“I’m reading,” and there was an even simpler answer, except if you were Spencer Reid, a doctor with three PhDs, three bachelor’s degrees, an FBI agent, and a complete, and utter technophobe. 

You felt him lift his head before he choked out a high-pitched “You’re what?” and you turned around to see him, shock and betrayal written on his face, his eyes as big as saucers. 

You looked at him like he’d grown two heads, but you knew you should have expected this. 

You’d made the decision to get a kindle last week, and you’d used the time he hadn’t been home to set it up and try it out. 

“What are you even reading on that thing? That’s not a book!” he was outraged, but at the same time, he looked so cute, that you started laughing. You brought a hand to your mouth, in hopes of muffling the sound a little because you were losing it, laughing with everything you had. 

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny. I’m serious.” you just laughed harder, even though you tried to reign it in and stop. 

Around a minute later, your laughter started dying down, and you looked up, only to see him with his arms crossed against his chest, an expression between bewilderment, and those deep brown puppy eyes staring straight into your soul.

“It’s a kindle, Spence, it’s all digital,” you told him

“No, I know that, but you can’t be serious,” your brows furrowed, a bit butt hurt, until he continued, “You know, readers prefer physical books. A recent study found that only 21% prefer e-books, as little as 14% audiobooks, and 65% are physical book readers. Another study found that your brain absorbs less when you read on a kindle than on paper.” You laughed again, loving his brain, and then patted the space next to you, waiting for him to sit down.

“I thought you were pro saving the planet Mr. Three PHD’s.” you joked, waiting for him to sass you back. After all, one of your favorite characteristics of his was how sassy he was. 

“Well, yes I am, but statistically, physical copies are superior. A book needs to be physical, not whatever bullshit that is. Come on, let’s just return this, and I’ll buy you all the books you want,” he went to stand up, and you pulled him back down by the back of his shirt. 

“Aww babe, I know you will!” Spencer loved buying some of your books for you, he loved seeing the smile on your face when he bought a book you’ve wanted for a while. You buried your face into his neck, hugging him to you. 

“Come on, let’s cuddle before dinner, get a cookie, and I’ll read to you for a bit, I just reached a good part,” you whisper into his neck, and he exhales, reaching towards the coffee table to get a cookie before you relax into each other, and you pick up the kindle, reading where you left off. 

“We really are two opposing magnets, incapable of being in the same room without drawing together. I want to scrape my fingers through his hair and kiss him until he forgets where we are, and everything and everyone that ever made him feel like he was a disappointment. And he’s looking at me like I could, like there’s an ache in him only I could soothe.” you read, hand running through his hair, happy to have him back.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[flowerandblood]

The Taste of Desire (AU)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex with soft domination, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, remorse, doubts related to sex work ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients − however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. One of his clients surprises him with her behaviour, making him experience something he has never felt before, with his own actions and emotions slipping out of his control. Sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

This oneshot is an alternative universe for my series The Taste of Shame in which Aemond meets the main character as his client. It shows how their lives would have turned out and what their first time would have been like if Aemond had done it for money. Created to celebrate my anniversary on 22 March.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other series: Masterlist

_____

He was never picky when it came to his female clients. They had to meet basic standards like hygiene, no venereal diseases and they couldn't go beyond a certain time, but once they signed a confidentiality clause, what he was going to do with them was no longer important to him.

He kept repeating to himself that he was there for them, not them for him, so he focused on giving them what they wanted in a way that didn't disturb his comfort zone.

He did not allow them to kiss or touch him with their hands − in fact, he preferred that any involvement they had in what was happening was minimal. What he found most pleasing in the whole act was his violence towards them, and the more they consented to, the more he was satisfied.

Their pleas and cries of pain combined with some subconscious pleasure that such sadomasochism gave them made him struggle to hold back the mocking smile that pressed against his lips.

They wanted to be treated like worthless objects, and that's what he was giving them, because that's exactly how he thought of them.

He didn't try to delve into considering what he thought of himself, because he decided that would end up with a visit to a psychiatrist. He was studying quantum physics, lived far away from his family and needed a steady, high source of income − since silly girls could make money from sex cams, he could make money that way, at least until he had no other prospects.

The only way to contact him was through an online form on his website, where they would write why they wanted to meet, indicate what suited them or not, and if he felt he could meet their whims, he would arrange to meet them to discuss the details and sign the documents.

Scrolling through dozens of similar messages about tying, gagging, beating and humiliation he stopped on one where only a few things were marked. He thought surprised that he wouldn't even link them to aggressive domination per se, and certainly not the kind he usually used.

Good morning. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'd like to try, but I'm also a bit embarrassed about it. I don't know if this can be subsumed under your interests − I'm completely inexperienced, so maybe that's why I'm looking for a professional who knows what he's doing and would be able to show me what I actually need and want. I apologise for the rather chaotic explanation and send my regards. Selected practices: spanking, verbal domination, fingering

He blinked and scratched his chin, both intrigued and uncertain at the same time − he glanced quickly at her age and saw that she was younger than him. He bit his lower lip feeling that something in the idea that she was still inexperienced and only willing to explore her needs attracted him, the thought that this would be some sort of challenge for him.

He decided that why not.

She was an adult.

He looked forward to meeting her with the utmost curiosity. Her requirements were basic enough that he didn't need to prepare any extra kinks, and since she didn't want sex with penetration, it also gave him a greater sense of confidence and peace of mind − he knew he wouldn't have to chase his orgasm, imagining some woman from porn, and would be able to concentrate only on what he was doing to her.

When he heard a quiet knock on the door of the flat he rented only to meet his female clients, he got up immediately from behind his desk and opened it for her, swallowing hard as his gaze involuntarily swept over her figure and stopped on her face.

God.

This was not what he had expected.

She looked even younger than she had written; her eyes were big and bright, looking at him with fear and dread, though usually the women who came to him, learned by experience, kept their gaze meekly on the floor, waiting for him to command them to look at himself.

She was dressed in a plain white Tshirt and high-waisted jeans, a fabric coloured backpack on her back, her hair loose, shiny, dark, slightly wavy − he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume or shower gel.

He grunted quietly, trying to keep a stony face, feeling that involuntarily his gaze expressed shock. He took a few steps back and invited her in − she stepped inside uncertainly, turning away quickly as he closed the door behind her.

"Come in. Do not be afraid." He said lowly, pointing to his desk which stood in the deeper part of the flat − she walked in that direction, looking in horror at the bed standing on the other side of the room.

He heard her swallow hard, tense and red, pulling her backpack off her back − she placed it in her lap immediately after she sat down in the chair opposite him, as if trying to ward off and protect herself from him in this way.

He took his seat on the other side and tapped his index finger on the top of his wooden oak desk, thinking that he had never had a client like her before.

She was completely distracted, her gaze sweeping across the room as if she were a curious child, her fingers tightening on the material of her rucksack.

"As I mentioned, first the contract and confidentiality clause." He said calmly, handing her copies of the contract and clause he had sent her earlier.

She took them from him and looked into his eyes again, making him swallow hard; it wasn't a defiant look and it wasn't meant to seduce him. It seemed to him just the opposite − she wanted to show him that some part of her was genuinely afraid of him.

She nodded, her hands trembling all over as she took the sheets of paper in her hands − she looked around quickly and clumsily grabbed a pen.

He wondered, seeing what was happening to her, if what she wanted was really good for her and although he never meddled in his clients' decisions, he decided to intervene, for her sake and his own.

"You can still resign. I won't burden you with the cost." He said lowly, watching her closely, and saw that she flinched all over. She lifted the gaze of her bright eyes to him, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to get something out of herself.

"I…I think I want to try. This one time. Do you think it's a bad idea, sir?" She asked him in a trembling, soft, girlish voice. The note of innocence that lurked in this after all defiant question made him twist in his seat, feeling surprised that his manhood swelled a little − he felt like he was literally burning her with his gaze.

He thought it was because she was so vulnerable − it turned him on that he was more experienced than her and had real control over what could happen next if she wanted it.

He chuckled involuntarily at her words, shaking his head, sighing quietly, looking at her indulgently.

"What I think about it doesn't matter." He murmured lowly, leaning comfortably against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood.

He felt heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of her not dropping her gaze, boldly staring him in the face as if they had known each other for a long time, despite the fact that most women knew their buttocks would be red and swollen like tomatoes for such insolence.

"I would, however, like to hear your views on the matter, sir." She replied quickly, as if she recognised him as some sort of authority on the matter, a sexologist or anyone else who could give her a diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor. However, I don't think there is anything wrong with trying under controlled conditions. You also have a safe word that you can use at any time to stop whatever I'm doing. You have to decide." He said finally, and saw her nod her head, drawing in air loudly as if gathering her courage, and leaned over, signing the documents in the spaces indicated.

For some reason he involuntarily licked his lips, dried from some kind of excitement, his cock twitching hard in his trousers at the thought that she was really going to do this.

When she finished he took the papers from her, signed them and gave her one copy, reminding her of all the rules they had agreed and what she could not do.

"You can't touch me or kiss me. When we start, you are to call me sir and follow all my instructions. You are to answer all my questions by shaking or nodding your head unless I order you otherwise. I will not stop even if you beg me or cry until I hear your safe word which, please remind us, sounds how?" He asked softly, stapling the papers she had signed with a stapler, tucking them into his drawer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the very thought of what he was going to do to her.

Why was he so aroused when he hadn't even touched her yet?

"Peach." She muttered embarrassedly, looking down at her hands.

For a moment he wondered if he should add the rule he usually made where a woman couldn't look him in the eye, but something in her eyes captured him − her gaze wasn't seductive or filled with feelings he didn't want to see. He also guessed that forbidding it might overwhelm her even more, and he didn't want that.

He nodded at her words, rising, and she rose with him, holding her backpack in front of her, her shoulders raised slightly in a defensive gesture, as if she was afraid of him and the fact that she had somehow given him control over her.

He approached her slowly, looking at her vigilantly − her eyes fixed on his face as his hand took the rucksack from her arms in a gentle motion, dropping it next to her on the floor. His fingers rose to her cheeks, trailing over them, her jaw and her chin − he felt her tremble all over, surprised, her swollen, plump lips red with emotion.

Although he had never done this, he wanted to get a good look at her first − he knew that going straight to putting his hand in her panties would only frighten her and in this situation his tactics had to be a tad different.

First and foremost, he wanted to reassure her.

He saw that she had closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly through her mouth as his hands slid down to her neck and her soft hair. He thought, smelling her fruity scent, that he would have given anything to have her kneel before him and take his achingly hard manhood into her mouth.

He decided that perhaps he would use his thoughts to embolden her a little more and let him do what he wanted.

"Such a sweet girl. You have no idea what I'd like to do with those lips." He hummed, feeling a shiver pass through her as one of his hands rose higher again, to her face, parting her lips with his thumb. "How hard I am now."

He saw the shock in her gaze, which quickly escaped down to the bulge in his trousers, her cheeks flushed as she looked up into his face again, her breathing quickened and ragged.

He sighed involuntarily at the sight.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but not that I'm a liar. Open." He commanded in a slightly cooler, stricter tone, her lips immediately parted slightly, allowing his thumb to slide deep between her fleshy, wet lips.

"Suck." He instructed, a quiet moan caught in her throat, her body suddenly quivering as the fingers of his free hand slid lower to her breast, teasing her nipple in calm, circular motions, her lips tightening around his thumb, obeying his command.

"Do you always walk around without a bra? Hm? Do you like it when men look at them?" He muttered warningly, pulling lightly on her nipple, looking at her curiously − she squirmed helplessly, closing her eyes, not knowing what to do with her hands. He could see how, in some subconscious reflex, she wanted to lift them up and embrace him, but reminded herself that she couldn't do that and lowered them again, moving him in some way and arousing him at the same time.

He couldn't remember if his client had ever made him completely hard by her behaviour itself.

"Quiet. We haven't even started properly yet, and already you want me to slap your arse?" He growled mockingly, and she shook her head quickly, drawing in air loudly, looking at him with a pleading look of her big, bright eyes, which he felt between his thighs as his cock swelled unbearably, demanding attention.

"This is my last warning. Lie on your stomach." He said coldly, although inside he felt like his body was on fire.

She obediently pulled off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching, embarrassed, as he slipped his thumb, moist with her saliva, between his lips and licked it. He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt and shoes, leaving in his black short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, fixing his hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Leave only your panties on." He added, hearing her quiet squeal as his large hand gave her one, light, sharp smack on her buttock, just as an encouragement to keep her going.

"Just like that. So pretty." He hummed, watching her undress, climbing onto the bed behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips and grinned in amusement when he saw that underneath her trousers she was wearing pretty lace panties in powder pink.

He thought she was like a lollipop or candy, a sweet little gift bought just for pure pleasure.

As she pulled off her t-shirt she clung with her breasts to the bedclothes, looking somewhere sideways towards the window as if she was afraid of how exposed she was, that she was lying half-naked in front of a strange man who, on top of that, she was going to have to pay for it.

Although he cursed himself for it in the back of his head, the sincerity and naturalness of her behaviour endeared her to him − he thought in disbelief that he wasn't sure that even if she had asked him to punish her more harshly or to cause her intense pain he would have been able to do it.

Would it give him pleasure.

He took her hair aside, exposing her long neck and back, felt her shudder all over as his fingers ran along her spine.

"Are you going to be good, or should I tie you up?" He murmured and she nodded quickly − he hummed under his breath, stroking her bare skin. "Use your words."

"I'll be good. Sir." She added quickly, hearing him shift suddenly in irritation. He let out a loud breath through his nose, leaning down, grasping her wrists in his hands, placing them on either side of her head, showing her the position he expected her to hold them in.

"Your hands are supposed to be here at all times. On the pillow. If I see you take them away from here, I'll tie you up and on top of that, I'll give you ten slaps on the bottom to make sure you remember this lesson well. Do you understand? Use your words." He hissed, driving his fingers into the skin of her wrists, heard her swallow hard and nod her head quickly.

"− y-yes, sir −"

He gasped softly, pleased with her answer and the way it was going − he saw her hands tighten on the material of the pillow as he settled his knees on either side of her buttocks, lowering himself onto them so that she could feel his cock throbbing all under the material of his trousers. She stifled the cry that wanted to escape her lips by pressing her face against his bedding.

"− do you fucking feel it? − do you feel what you're doing to me? −" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, not knowing why instead of pulling himself together and concentrating on his task he was teasing her, making his manhood painfully hard − he clamped his eyelids shut when he felt her hips begin to buck uncertainly to the rhythm of his movements.

He decided that fuck it, he would do it the way he felt like it, breaking his own rules, knowing that unlike the other women, she really needed this.

His closeness.

She sighed loudly and her whole body trembled as he pressed his face against her soft, fragrant hair, crushing her with his own weight, his hands roamed over the skin of her bare shoulders and the sides of her waist as his nose slowly slid lower, down to her neck, his fingers slipped underneath her and tightened on her soft, plump breasts as his lips pressed against her bare skin.

He heard her start to pant loudly through her mouth, surprised as he was, surely imagining it differently, writhing beneath him, his fingers digging warningly into the soft skin of her breasts, his hot breath enveloping her ear.

"− lie still or we'll do it rough − spread your thighs −" He growled, his thumbs pressing and playing with her nipples. He spread her legs with his knees, making her breath catch in her throat − he could feel her heart pounding fast under his hands, his tongue ran over the bare skin of her neck, smelling the salty taste of her sweat and the sweet taste of her perfume.

"− you're already wet, hm? − shall we check? −" He sneered, sliding the palms of his one hand down her belly − he saw out of the corner of his eye that her fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of the pillow, her whole body stiffened, her head tilted slightly as his fingertips pushed the soft, soaked material of her underwear aside, sinking into her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

"− good God − look at you − all sticky and warm −" He gasped as his fingers began to tease and squeeze her clit lightly, giving her a few encouraging strokes from which helpless, muffled sounds tried to escape her throat − his hand let go of her breasts for a moment and slapped her buttock with all his might, reminding her that she was supposed to be quiet.

He didn't even notice when he started rubbing against her faster from the top, chasing his own fulfilment, completely aroused by what was happening to her, how she was responding to him.

He felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− moan for me − let me hear these sweet sounds −" He whispered in her ear, driving his fingers harder into the soft, leaking structure of her folds.

Moan for me?

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He sighed when she cried out loudly, clenching her eyes, writhing all under him, again and again rubbing his sore cock with her buttocks. He felt ashamed that even though he was the master of the situation, it seemed to him that somehow it was she who was dictating how it looked, or rather his inability to treat her as he did his other clients.

There was something innocent about her, that her goal was not for him to humiliate her, beat her or hurt her, but for him to guide her, to show her what she really desired and what he could do with her body.

He thought, running his fingertips over her moist, hot slit, that perhaps this was what he had been craving deep inside himself all this time.

"− ah − please, sir −" She mewled helplessly, and he felt her words between his thighs. He licked his lips, trailing his fingers over her throbbing, weeping cunt, teasing her hard nipple with his other hand, each of his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

"− what are you asking me to do? − use your words −" He exhaled, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to climax himself, and wondered if he was going to cum in his own trousers for the first time in his life.

"− please − please, put it inside me −" She mumbled out and he swallowed hard feeling her buttocks rubbing against his cock.

He froze for a moment, running his fingers over her hot, leaking folds, fighting with himself, on the one hand wanting only this, on the other the contract was different and he never broke the terms he himself had agreed to and signed.

What if, afterwards, she found that she didn't want it and decided that he had raped her, go to the police with it?

This thought sobered his mind a little, though his whole body shuddered with disappointment, his two fingers suddenly forced their way inside her with her moan of pleasure.

"− I can't − you know I can't, don't you? −" He breathed out, pressing the tips of his fingertips into the fleshy structure of her muscles, searching for the spot hidden between them.

She shuddered all over when he felt it a moment later, his thumb trailing over her clit as his two fingers dug in between her slick folds with a loud click of her wetness − he felt her whole body tense in anticipation, again and again his fingers squeezed her the way she needed it.

"− I'll be good, sir − please − please − please − I'll be good −" She cried out, her sticky walls began to clench around his fingers, sucking them inside and he closed his eyes, imagining he felt it on his hard, aching cock.

How tight she was.

He'd never done this before and he knew he shouldn't, but for some reason he was desperate, his mind clouded by what he'd seen and what he needed.

He watched her face in disbelief, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her lips parted sweetly in a loud, accelerated breath.

"We can do this, but on my terms. I'll just fuck you, nothing more. No money. Do you understand?" He asked her in a trembling voice, as if he wanted to make sure she understood, that it meant nothing to him, that she just turned him on too much and he wanted to take it out on her.

He saw her eyes open suddenly, fear and relief filling her gaze as she whispered just a few words without looking at him.

"Let me look at your face, sir."

He himself didn't know when he suddenly flipped her onto her back as his lips clung with a loud purr to her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it − he heard her moan loudly, startled, making him lose his temper. His hands in a helpless reflex slid down to the button of his trousers and his zipper, releasing his erection quickly, he wasn't sure he had ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

He knew things had gotten out of hand and that he would regret it, but he couldn't deny himself, knowing that he would probably never see her again.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand? If you touch me, I'll stop and I'll slap your arse so hard you won't be able to sit for the next few weeks." He hissed, looking her straight in the face, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out the condom −she merely nodded, her hands clenched on either side of her face, her swollen lips parted in a quick, uneven breath.

He looked at her pretty figure, her sweet, plump breasts, her flushed face, her hair in disarray, and thought helplessly that she was beautiful and that he would go mad if he didn't do this to her.

Never before had he put a condom over his length as quickly as he did then − with a quick, sure, impatient movement he slid her panties off her, already all wet with her moisture, grabbed her by her hips and pushed her closer, momentarily forcing her tight, leaking folds to let him inside her.

He didn't speak, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say either, ashamed of his own desperation as he pushed deeper into her with a sure, sharp thrust.

He began to pound into her as if he had completely lost his mind, fast and out of control − she threw her head to the side, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, her walls wonderfully moist and hot, clenching on him so tightly that he struggled to restrain himself from cumming just yet, not wanting to humiliate himself.

"− oh God −" He muttered, looking at her as if through a fog, leaning over her, his hands found hers, her fingers clenched on them, seeking proximity − she looked up at him pleadingly, panting and quivering.

He suspected that never before had anyone fucked her at such a brutal, fast pace from which she couldn't catch her breath, her thighs spread wide before him in a gesture of trust, their bodies slapping against each other with the loud clicks of her wetness.

"− these idiots couldn't even fuck you properly, hm? −" He panted low and she only nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers in some subconscious reflex, as if he wanted to show her that he understood her, that she had a right to be disappointed, that he had no idea how any man could fail to give her what she needed.

"− my poor little baby − am I right? −" He breathed out and she cried loudly and nodded her head, something in her gaze, in her eyes flooded with tears, filled with despair, tenderness and relief made him lean lower and cling to her lips.

She moaned loudly into his throat and he felt her walls squeeze him tightly with a sudden, intense orgasm, sucking him inside as his tongue invaded between her lips. She reciprocated his kiss with such devotion that a few of his helpless, sloppy thrusts were enough to make him cum into the condon.

"− fuck − fuck, baby −" He breathed out into her mouth as if she was his, as if they were in his bed in his flat, as if he loved her and was about to have dinner with her or go to sleep lying next to her, as if she wasn't a stranger to him, her sweet scent, her innocent sounds and the taste of her mouth were all that filled his mind as he continued to rock his hips deep inside her.

Even though they had both came, they didn't stop kissing, their lips joining and pulling away from each other lazily with a loud click of their saliva, his hands roaming up and down her fingers, alternately stroking them and entwining them with his own again.

Something about what was happening between them, about this sudden, unexpected closeness calmed him and made him completely drift off.

He knew that she had wanted to touch and kiss him from the very beginning, but she still respected his decision and his rules.

And he, for some reason incomprehensible to himself, broke them for her.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting along with her, unsure of what he should do now, distracted and ashamed that he couldn't help himself, that for the first time in his life he had overstepped the time and competence he should have given her.

And that wasn't good.

What if she thinks now that they are in love with each other, that maybe one day they will be together? If she starts writing to him and stalking him like so many women before her?

"I'm sorry." He heard her whisper and shuddered, snapped out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze, her hands still on either side of her head. He grunted quietly, horrified at how close she was, that he could smell her pleasant scent so intensely, her breath, the warmth of her body.

"I'm the one who should apologise. I behaved unprofessionally. I won't take money from you." He replied after a moment, and she shook her head, shocked.

"− n-no, why − I mean − after all, you did what we agreed to do − you gave me your time, I −"

"− you're not the kind of person who would enjoy a strong dominant-submissive interaction − you'd be terrified − you're worrying too much − probably those guys before me didn't ask you what you needed, hm? − that's what I thought − there's nothing wrong with you − that's my diagnosis −" He hummed, sighing heavily, lifting himself up on his elbows, placing a lingering, tender kiss on her forehead.

He slipped out of her gently with her quiet hiss of discomfort − he saw her press her lips together when he slided the shed condom off his manhood and tie it off, tossing it into the small bin standing next to his bed, zipping his trousers back up. He saw her reach with a trembling hand for her underwear and sighed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wipe yourself well first, the tissues are lying on the table next to you. Don't you have underwear to change into?" He asked uncertainly, realising that this was usually obvious to the women who visited him, as it was to him, so he didn't warn her, thinking she would figure it out for herself.

She shook her head quickly and he sighed heavily, taking a bottle of water standing on the table, unscrewing it and handing it to her, seeing that she completely didn't know what she should do with herself now.

"− drink − you'd better just wipe yourself off and put your trousers on −" He replied and she nodded, red with embarrassment, taking a few deep sips of water without looking at him.

He turned away as she started to get dressed, running his hand over his face, recognising that he was an idiot and had completely lost his fucking mind, unable to forgive himself for fucking her even though their terms were different.

He shuddered as she approached him quietly − he thought terrified that she was going to try to touch him, maybe even thinking they were going to become lovers now, but she just held a bundle of banknotes in front of him, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I already told you I won't take it − keep it −"

"− I can't, after all −"

"− don't piss me off −" He growled, and she pressed her lips together, lowering her hand, swallowing loudly.

They stared at each other for a long moment in awkward silence to say the least − he grunted, combing his fingers through his hair, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding like crazy.

What was happening to him?

"− consider it a gift − we both made each other feel good − right? −" He asked, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt her. She nodded and smiled softly, shyly, for some reason making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He regretted that she had ever written to him.

He regretted that he had said yes.

He regretted that it had been so pleasant.

"− thank you − and I apologise again − I won't take up your time anymore − I wish you all the best − please take care of yourself and be happy −" She said finally, and he flinched, looking at her in disbelief − he felt that his lips were parted in shock as he looked at her dully.

He didn't know what to answer.

Only after a while did he get anything out of himself, feeling that she was due at least some perfunctory response.

"− it's me who's sorry − I also wish you all the best −"

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, before her trembling hand reached for her backpack and headed towards the door, opening it and disappearing behind it a moment later.

He looked at the bed, at the sheets where the mark of her body was clearly visible, the fact that she had just been lying there, that he had been deep inside her and had fucked her like he had never put his cock inside any woman before.

He went over there and just lay on his stomach, sinking his face into the pillow that was drenched in her scent.

For the next few days, his head was in a state of chaos − one part of him was afraid that she would reach out to him, that she would seek contact or a relationship with him, like so many women before her wanting to be special to him, to be the only one.

The other part of him was even begging for her to do it, for him to be able to free himself at last from the memories of what he had done to her, that she had broken something in him, that he couldn't look at the women who came after her.

He couldn't focus, he felt remorse, he couldn't even get aroused and he was so frustrated that, to the despair of his regular clients, he decided to take a break for a few weeks to cool down.

His friend from university, Robert, had already invited him to his birthday party a month earlier and although he didn't have the energy to go anywhere, he knew that afterwards he would be listening to him and Criston moan in class about how completely unsocial he was.

He figured that since it was only going to be a private party at his house, he might as well go there at least for a while so no one would accuse him of lack of effort.

When he stopped outside his house he got out of the car and decided to have a quick cigarette, tired and discouraged, knowing that sooner or later his savings would run out and he would have to go back to it, whether he wanted to or not.

Or find another, lower-paid job.

He sighed heavily, clamping his fingers over the base of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He heard movement beside him and the screech of brakes, lifted his gaze and froze when it became apparent that she had just sat down beside him from her bike, a wide smile on her lips as if she thought he was a stranger, only recognising him after a moment, her lips parted then in horror, panic in her gaze.

He stared at her, feeling his body freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Oh God. Do you know Robert?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his throat at the thought that she could have been his friend's girlfriend.

"Yes. Fuck. And you?" He asked her quickly with some sort of accusation, from which she swallowed hard.

"I-I, I'm his younger sister. I went to get some candles, I didn't know…"

"It's okay. I'll just go home." He replied, taking a few quick puffs of his cigarette, crushing it with his foot, turning back towards his car.

"N-no, please. Are you Aemond? Did I guess right? Robert was telling me about you. How he's glad you're coming. That you rarely talk or go out somewhere as a threesome with Criston. It's good that we met here, we'll avoid an awkward greeting. Please, don't be embarrassed." She muttered, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, heartbroken. They both shuddered when they heard a knock on the glass, Robert looked at them through the window and started waving at them, gleeful.

Jesus Christ.

They both headed towards her house, knowing that since he'd seen him, he couldn't run away anymore anyway. He was terrified that since she was Robert's sister, she was someone familiar, not a stranger, that this changed everything and nothing, his heart pounding like mad.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked as they stopped in front of the front door and he shook his head, snapped out of his reverie, frowning his brow.

"What?"

"Do you have a lighter? Can you help me? I need to light the candles on his birthday cake." She muttered in a whisper as if someone might overhear them, and she was telling him an important secret. He sighed heavily and nodded, recognising that he must have been dreaming all this.

Robert greeted him with joy, all around them Criston, their family and a few of his high school friends, a whole group of people he didn't know and with whom he knew he wouldn't find common ground, and among them her.

He wished him well and gave him his present, but he was unable to focus − he met her terrified gaze, she was pointing her finger at him that she needed his help in the kitchen.

He followed her as if into the lion's mouth, watching from the side as she opened the fridge in the darkness, taking out a blueberry meringue. She sighed heavily, placing it on the table in front of him, only the lights of the street lamps around them.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I did my best." She mumbled, as if she wanted to say anything that would lighten the atmosphere between them.

He felt like an idiot when their trembling hands touched as he handed her the lighter and swallowed loudly, watching as one by one the candles began to glow with the warm, bright light of the flame.

He wanted to ask her if something in her life had changed, if she now knew what she wanted and needed, if she thought about what had happened.

Was she thinking about him.

She picked up the cake when it was all ready and let the air out loud through her mouth, looking him straight in the eye.

"Let's go."

After singing a short 'Happy Birthday', Robert blew out all the candles, happy to announce that his little sister had remembered what cake he loved best, assuring everyone that it was certainly delicious.

They spent the whole party throwing surreptitious, embarrassed glances at each other − he had to empty a few glasses of strong Whisky to calm himself down, the alcohol relaxing him a little, though only seemingly, suppressing his fear, but making him start thinking about something else again.

He looked at her figure dressed in a modest mid-thigh summer dress, her hair, her face − saw the way she laughed, the way she talked to others and felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that then, being with him, she wasn't pretending.

She really was like that.

Affectionate, open, sweet, kind.

Everything he wasn't.

He swallowed heavily at the thought, sad and embittered, taking another deep sip from his glass.

"How are you going to get home? Criston is staying the night at our house, why don't you stay too? It's late." Said Robert sitting down next to him on the couch, patting him on the back in a friendly manner, already himself relaxed by the considerable amount of alcohol his body had assimilated.

He swallowed hard, looking at his sister from afar, feeling that this was a very bad idea.

"Why not." He muttered, thinking that he was a moron for looking for trouble himself, and that if Robert found out what he'd done to his sister, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Criston and a few others occupied the upstairs rooms, and he suggested he could sleep in the living room on the couch, to which Robert agreed.

He hoped this would embolden her to come to him, as he himself would never have dared to knock on her door despite how desperate he was.

At the thought that he might feel her again, his manhood reacted with an enthusiastic, intense pulsing in his trousers.

He felt that he was drunk as he began to pull off his black tight turtleneck, managing it with difficulty, pulling off his shoes, laying down dressed only in Tshirt and trousers with a quiet sigh and covered himself carelessly with the blanket, listening.

Is she going to do it or not?

And even if she comes to him, should he agree?

He felt disappointment when an hour passed and nothing happened, silence all around him and the loud snoring of someone coming from the upstairs rooms, perhaps her and Robert's father. He sighed heavily, recognising that he had made it all up, that she was surely now ashamed of him and what she had done, trying to forget it.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling discomfort in his stomach, and closed his eyes, figuring he would try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He shuddered and opened them again when he heard a quiet creak, as if someone was walking down the corridor above him, but he wasn't sure himself if it wasn't just his imagination. A shiver ran down his spine and his manhood swelled all over when he heard someone quietly walk down the steps.

Whoever this person was, however, she didn't approach him but walked through the living room to the kitchen.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy when he caught sight of her silhouette in the darkness, dressed only in an oversized white Tshirt and light shorts − she walked over to the tap, took a glass from the drawer and poured herself some water.

Should he approach her or not?

What if she gets scared?

Fuck.

He didn't even know when he just picked himself up on the couch, for some reason doing it very slowly so that his movements couldn't be heard − he felt like a predator who wanted to get closer to his prey even though he didn't really intend to harm her.

As soon as he stood up he immediately felt the room around him spin, the pleasant, intoxicating warmth of the alcohol melting through his lower abdomen making him seem less terrified of what he wanted to do than if he had been completely sober.

When she caught sight of his silhouette out of the corner of her eye she almost choked on the water − she spat some of it into the sink coughing loudly, making him freeze motionless, afraid to approach her. She quickly wiped her mouth with her hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"My God, you scared me." She muttered pale, her pretty, smooth face illuminated by the warm light of the street lamps standing in front of her house.

He stared at her for a moment, thinking that perhaps it must all have been a dream after all, that the fact that she was standing in front of him was unreal, invented by his distraught, drunken mind.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, swallowing hard, standing a good distance away from her, fighting with himself not to look shamelessly at her bare legs and her nipples peeking through from under her T-shirt.

Again.

They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, both of them breathing embarrassingly loudly, as if each of them was reliving deep inside themselves the fact that they were seeing each other again.

And on top of that, in her brother's house.

"I didn't know you were his sister. I swear. I would never do that to you." He finally started to speak, to explain, although he didn't know why − he had the feeling that he was trying to get anything out of himself so she didn't go back upstairs to her room.

He heard her sigh quietly, stroking her bare shoulder with her trembling hand. She shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture, looking somewhere to the side, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

"I know." She whispered, and he felt a heat in his lower abdomen and a pleasant shudder at the thought that perhaps she wasn't misjudging him, that perhaps she wasn't disgusted by him at all.

"How do you feel? I mean − are you okay?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she wasn't sure if she should be asking this kind of question. She glanced at him uncertainly, clearly wanting to check his reaction, he stared at her stunned, completely surprised by her question.

"− I… yeah, I guess − I mean, I'm on a break from − you know − from this − right now −" He muttered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, looking at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for some reason.

It's because of you, he wanted to say.

I did it for you.

"Something happened?" She asked after a moment, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex, as if she was afraid of what she would hear.

"− yes − I mean − I have doubts − I always had, but now… they've intensified − you know −" He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his throat and stomach growing stronger, his heart pounding like mad, cold sweat running down his back.

I'm just a whore, he thought.

I sell myself for money.

She nodded her head quickly so he knew she understood.

"− I'm sorry −" She said quietly, and he looked at her dully, not knowing why for some reason his lower lip trembled, why he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He was ashamed that he desired her so much, that he wanted her words but also her body, wanted to fuck her first and then embrace her and fall asleep.

Was he treating her objectively? Was he only able to think about one thing?

Sex, sex, sex, sex.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

He shuddered, drawing in air loudly as she came closer to him, in her gaze genuine fear and worry at his condition, questioning whether she could do anything for him, help him in any way.

He knew she longed to touch him − he saw out of the corner of his eye her hand rising to touch his shoulder but falling back after a moment, reminding himself that he never allowed anyone to invade his space.

He felt like screaming.

"− do you want to talk about it? −"

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to anyone about it, but after a while he was sitting next to her on the terrace anyway, covered in a thick, soft blanket, sitting next to her on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench hanging by chains, which he rocked back and forth with involuntary movements of his knees, lighting a cigarette from his lighter with a quiet hiss of fire.

He took a drag and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, sighing quietly, just thinking about the fact that their hips and shoulders were touching.

"What did you think of me? After all this." He asked suddenly, swallowing loudly as he heard her twist in her place, throwing him a surprised, even horrified look. She sighed quietly, covering herself more tightly with the fluffy material.

"That you are a good man."

He felt his hand with the cigarette freeze in mid-motion as he was about to take another drag and for some reason he laughed in disbelief at her words, feeling a piercing pain in his chest, his eyebrows arching in amusement.

"That I'm a good man. Good God." He hummed, taking another drag − he could see she was looking down at her fingers, ashamed of her words and his cruel reaction. He licked his lower lip with his tongue and closed his eyes, feeling that he was completely hard.

He could smell her, she was still using that fruity, pleasant, fresh perfume.

"You're a romantic, innocent soul, aren't you?" He sneered, letting the smoke out again through his nose with a loud sigh − he heard her cough quietly as the smell of tobacco rose into her lungs. She grunted quietly, her lips tightened in displeasure.

"Innocent souls come to a strange man to spank them for money?"

"You didn't want me to spank you. You haven't experienced even a hint of real, hard domination, sweet girl." He snarled, spreading himself out comfortably on the back of the bench with a loud creak of wood, the metal chains squeaking quietly each time he made another movement with his foot, putting the structure in motion.

"So why did you agree to this?" She asked finally, and he fell silent, staring blankly ahead, taking one last drag on what was left of his cigarette.

"Good question."

They both fell silent again, feeling that their conversation was starting to get out of hand, and after all, someone could have woken up, opened the window, overheard their words.

"Did you tell Robert?" He asked suddenly, and she shook her head, horrified.

"N-no, of course not. And I won't. This is between you two. He respects you very much." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her bent knees, which she held under her chin. He hummed at her statement, accepting her words with some sort of relief.

"Did that help you? Now you know what you need?" He asked impassively, letting the smoke out loudly through his mouth, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the glass with the unfinished drink, feeling her gaze on him, her body tense, he knew she had hesitated.

"In a way." She replied, and he dared to look her straight in the eye.

She didn't lower her gaze even though he knew some part of her wanted to do so, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his hands had slipped under the blanket, into his trousers. She swallowed loudly when she heard the sound of his zipper being undone and the fabric being unfastened.

"Come here. Sit on my lap." He ordered softly, and she did so without hesitation, as if she had only been waiting for those words, something in her confidence, in her assurance, in her desire, in her hot gaze made his breath stand in his throat.

They said nothing as he slipped her shorts off her, as he lowered his trousers, finally releasing his aching, swollen erection, already leaking from his precum. He didn't protest when her hands tentatively embraced his neck, barely touching him, merely catching her balance, his free hand covering their hips with a blanket.

"I'm clean. I had myself tested a few weeks ago, after I'd already taken a break." He whispered, feeling his cock throb aggressively in his hand at the thought that he could come deep inside her if she would just let him. She nodded her head in understanding, one movement of his hand between her thighs reassuring him that no further treatment would be necessary.

"Have you been this wet all evening? Hm? Have you suffered as much as I have?" He gasped, directing the pink, fat head of his manhood at her swollen slit. She nodded again, her lips parted in disbelief and delight, her eyes closed as she felt him begin to push inside her,his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides, watching with a rapidly beating heart as he slowly opened her wide on his cock.

"− fuck − fuck, tell me you're taking your pills −" He breathed out, tilting his head back, with one sure thrust of his hips filling her tight, leaking cunt to the brim. She squirmed quietly as he began to move inside her immediately, pounding into her with deep, sure stabs, rubbing each time the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled out, rising and falling on his thick, aching manhood, giving him a wonderful squeeze each time, from which he sank his fingers deeper into her soft buttocks, forcing her into a fast, sharp rhythm in which he hardly slid out of her, panting and grunting louder than usual, thinking only of how wonderfully warm she was, that he could feel her moist, fleshy walls with his whole being with each sure thrust.

"− kiss me −" He exhaled and groaned loudly into her mouth as her lips instantly clung to his in a sloppy, sticky dance, his tongue invading deep into her throat, a shudder went through him as one of her hands combed through his hair.

"− m sorry −" She mumbled, immediately lowering her hand, but he put his one arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a loud purr of satisfaction, feeling wonderful, the alcohol had given him courage, and her touch was sweet and tender, not making him feel cornered.

"− it's okay − touch my face −" He sighed out between loud, wet licks of their swollen lips, quickening his pace as her hands gripped his cheeks, as her forehead pressed against his. Her walls began to clench on him with increasing intensity, making him lose his temper, not letting her escape the brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− oh, God − fuck, where −" He only mumbled, feeling that it was about to be too late.

"− please, inside me − ah −" She mewled so sweetly that he sighed loudly, surprised to feel his muscles relax, his semen spilling deep inside her without his willpower as her walls began to suck him and squeeze him in orgasm.

They both panted loudly, rocking their hips for a while longer, pulsing and shuddering, stroking each other's faces, looking at each other with their lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

"− shall we go out somewhere tomorrow? − you know − to the pub or something? −" He muttered embarrassed that he had wanted something more, that he broke his own rule.

He was relieved when she giggled and smiled, nodding, only to lean in a moment later and kiss him in a drawn-out manner with her soft, puffy lips. He murmured contentedly, stroking her warm, bare buttocks with lazy movements, reciprocating her caress with a loud click of their saliva.

She pulled away from him at last, her hand combing slowly through his short hair making a pleasant shiver run along his spine.

"− why not −"

[thebigbadbatswife]

The Softest Touch

Pairing(s) - Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Summary - “Can I touch you?” It’s such a simple question and yet it has the Dark Knight melting down to the core.

Warnings - Implied sexual harrasment, Canon-typical violence, Angst, Injuries, Hopeful ending. (If I missed anything, lmk!)

A/N - A bit of a different take on Bruce than what I typically write. Maybe it's because I've been in more of an angsty mood than fluffy/smutty recently, but, anyway, hope you all enjoy! 💜

Word Count - 784

Despite his reputation, Bruce hates being touched. It all started after that night in the alley. People hugging him and patting his back, touches that he never asked for or wanted. People constantly invading his personal space. And the older he got, the worse it became. Hands touching him where he doesn’t want them to, but having to play into it to keep his image up to stop anyone from finding out how he actually spends his nights. It’s not like anyone could ever believe a playboy of his status would ever truly hate the feeling of hands on his body anyway.

His nights aren’t much better. Blow after blow being dealt to his body, pain radiating across every inch. Fists, bats, crowbars, bullets and explosions. The latter leaving him dazed. The ground rushing to meet him far more than it should for any one person. The smell of smoke caught in his nose and the sounds of people suffering filling his ears, along with a high pitched ringing, as he perches upon some rubble, slowly gathering his bearings so that he can move on and straight into the next fight.

“Can I touch you?” The question is so simple and asked so softly that it catches him completely off guard.

How long has it been since someone actually asked him if it was okay to touch him? Hell, has anyone ever asked him? In truth, with the blood that runs through his veins and the name he carries, the way the vultures watch him, waiting to tear him apart and that nightmare he lived in the alley, he has never really had a choice in much of anything. And in situations where he thought he did, all he has are memories of someone he thought he could trust taking what they wanted from him and leaving him to deal with the aftermath. 

Yet, here you are. Asking him if you can touch him. Offering him a choice, something he’s almost certain he’s never had before. 

He eyes you for a moment, swallowing thickly, before finally nodding as he doesn’t trust his voice. He watches you closely as your gloved fingers come up to cup his face, your eyes completely focused on the gash along his jawline. You handle him with such care as you move his head upwards to get a better look, it would be easy to think that he’s made of the finest china instead of a hardened vigilante. 

It leaves a warmth blooming in his chest that he knows for sure that he’s never felt it before. It almost has him wanting to lean into your touch. Almost. 

You pull away to rummage through your kit, pulling out some alcohol, gauze and a large bandaid. “Sorry, but this is going to sting.” You’re so sweet thinking that the stinging from some alcohol cleaning his wound will cause him more pain or discomfort than the world has already given to him. Far too sweet for him.

Fuck. He has to look away from you lest his suit becomes even more uncomfortable than it already is. Not that you would even be able to tell. It’s insanity that just the smallest bit of kindness has him feeling like this. It leaves him wondering if he’s been drugged again. Throughout the years he has gone through so much. Shot, stabbed, poisoned, drugged, his back broken and his heart ripped out multiple times. Yet your careful and gentle touch has impacted him far more than any of those other blows ever could. 

You’re being so careful with him. Treating him like he’s actually worth something. 

He wonders what his life might have been like if you had crossed paths with him earlier. What kind of man he might have become. Before he came back to an empty manor, a hastily written letter and an abandoned diamond ring. Before he damned and chained himself to a hell of his own making. Would he have been a better man? A good man, like his father? A doctor instead of a vigilante stuck in this perpetual cycle of violence he’s cursed himself with? 

Would he be someone who is actually deserving of your kindness and care? 

He doesn’t know and he knows that he never will know. What ifs are a bad thing to dwell upon, but he knows one thing. It’s a feeling deep within his gut. He would have still found you. He still would have met your soft touch. Drawn towards you like a moth is drawn towards a flame. He would still feel like an honourable and good man beneath your touch.

And he only has one question for you.

“What’s your name?”

[whumpitisthen]

Two whumpees who are scared of each other:

Neither of them want trouble

They are both so afraid of being near the other they avoid each other constantly

They flinch away at the slightest touch like one person and their mirror image

They are strangers, they do not trust each other, they have been burned too many times in the past and they will not be burned again

They stare at each other from a distance, not daring to actually interact

They want to avoid a fight so bad that they won't even say a word

Whumper loves seeing them together because it's amusing how similar they are

Their uneasiness around the other is promptly forgotten when Whumper arrives

Whumpee can't have friends; Whumper doesn't want them to, and we all know what happens when Whumper sees Whumpee doing something they don't like

If hungry enough, they can be bribed with food to spend time in the other's vicinity

Non-human whumpees?! Two puppy boys being very nervous with pulled back ears and big sad eyes hiding behind their owner's legs

One Whumpee lives here and in theory should be more confident than the other one, seeing as they aren't the one in a strange unknown place. That confidence flees as soon as the Other Whumpee takes even a single step in their direction. They do not want to fight, they just want to keep an eye on them at all times.

They flinch back and the other one flinches back too. They cannot stop doing this

Caretaker basically has to pretend with each of them that the other doesn't exist. If they mentioned that their counterpart is in the room right across from them, Whumpee would not be able to sleep.

They sleep as far away from each other as the room they are kept in allows, backs to the wall, staying awake until they can't anymore

I think Whumper should collar them and bind them together with a short length of chain. For enrichment purposes... For me

One of them starts to finally unwind and gently tries to connect with the other. The other does Not react well. They are both scared again

One Whumpee has a lot of scars — must be a fighter -> scary

The Other Whumpee has no scars — must be a Really Good fighter -> scary

Whumpee looks just like the Other — must be just as desperate and unpredictable/their whumper must be just as bad/they must be at a similar level of strength as them, no guarantee to win if fight breaks out -> scary

One whumpee is scared because they have been tortured into perpetual fearfulness — the other has never been tortured, but sees how bad Whumpee has it, and being the newest addition to Whumper's collection has them just as terrified

Whumper forces them to interact. The forceful, scary nature of their meetings sets back their otherwise slow natural warming up to each other by miles, having the worst kind of counter effect. Seeing the other reminds them of that time Whumper made them sit and hold hands for hours with the threat of punishment if they disobeyed

They both escape. They see each other across the street. They freeze and stare, thrust back in time, stuck in their old frightened and cautious headspace. Their caretakers are perplexed.

[caustinen]

thinking about hollywood! clegan au 🤭

John Egan is a beloved actor who had his big break 5ish years ago and been doing a steady stream of hit movies ever since, 2-3 a year over all genres

Hollywood’s heartthrob but also a versatile actor who’s amazing at talk shows, considered very cool but also your grandma’s favorite celebrity

Has always been very private about his life outside of the films, always manages to make a joke out of everything when he’s (often) asked about his personal life, just wants to talk about his dog and whichever project he’s promoting

He’s been connected to a bunch of singers and actors (he loves a good party and isn’t aftaid of physical contact so he’s shipped with pretty much everyone he meets)

The absolute SHOCK that goes through entertainment world when he shows up to a premiere with a beautiful man on his arm

There are some speculations about this being another goof to get everyone confused but the picture of John looking at the man and rounding his arms around the his waist at any given moment on the red carpet go viral in relationship pages (they’re used in the type of pics “if your man doesn’t look at you like this…”)

Internet detectives quickly discover the man’s Gale Cleven, a publicist at the firm that represents Egan (not his publicist tho they keep work separate from their relationship)

He’s considered one of the best in the industry but hates spotlight and has stayed away from the media completely so far

However… After dating for 5 years John popped the question and Gale said yes, and as a part of their deal with how to deal with all of that Gale allows John’s long-awaited dream of being able to scream his love from the rooftops

He wasn’t kidding either, every single social media post after that is about how much he loves his fiancé, and the wedding plans are pretty much all he wants to talk about in interviews as well (aside from their dog, of course)

The negative side of it is that the internet also starts to thirst after John’s man and it becomes a new widely shared joke, like everytime John goes to talk shows after that the questions are all centered around ‘Hey, is your fiancé single?’

John is a good sport about it but in private he takes any excuse to mark Gale as his, weather it was a seemingly carelessly placed hand on him any chance he gets or a hickey just visible over his collar and esp when they have sex John never shuts up anyway but now he’s particularly keen on reminding Gale he belongs to him

Gale doesn’t care about the public attention one bit but he loves how happy John is about showing him off, and every time he’s nervous when they’re photographed together John makes sure to make him laugh and relax even on red carpets when everyone is trying to get their attention

The one time they give an interview together the internet goes nuts because Gale is so shy but so sweet and John laughs at everything he says and the two of them are just so clearly smitten with each other people can’t help but root for them

It’s also clear form the interview that while Gale hasn’t been at previous premiers or public outings he’s John’s work’s biggest fan/supporter, John’s telling some story about how they managed to keep their relationship secret while also living an active life like ”Oh and while I was doing promo for this project Gale lived in London with me” and Buck’s always very nonchalantly like ”No actually it was for this project dear” because he’s more aware of John’s work than he is and John will always tease him like ”oh you’re right thank you baby you’re so smart” and Gale would fail to hide his smile behind his hand

(additionals: john’s insta — gale’s insta — how they met — media/friends instas — how they first said i love yous — domestic hcs — gale//red carpet look — troubles with media/fans — jealous bucky — pda video leaks — candid pics — discussions about going public+proposal — going viral during award season — buck’s reaction’s to bucky doing sex scenes — stalker attack — reunion — sickfic — stalker attack cont. — photoshoot — divorce rumors — fanfiction — short n sweet)

[liyaauhr]

I think one of the beautiful aspects of the SBG friendship is the fact that it was formed (as far as we know) purely by chance. If it weren’t for Aiden forcing his way into Ashlyn’s house and practically weaselling her way into his life, convincing her to go on the Savannah trip with the rest of the group resulting in them getting sucked into the phantom world and spending days together, then all of their lives would have been unchanged. And tbh, when you observe at all their home lives and attitudes before Savannah, I don’t think that would have necessarily been a good thing for all of them.

And it’s funny to think about how they would’ve continued their lives just walking past each other in the hallways on the way to class.

Red actually confirmed this herself:

Ashlyn would have assumably continued her life without friends, which in a lot of cases can be extremely isolating and don’t work out in the long term. It’s a hard mindset to break out of and would have made it harder for her to understand others.

The term ‘loners’ applies to all of them because no matter the social status, they were all alone.

Logan was a victim of bullying, cornered by people and having his kindness taken advantage of to the point where he felt worthless with insignificant contributions. If it weren’t for his friends, he would’ve never stood up for both himself and his bullies’ next victim and just look at how much of a badass he’s grown to be! They gave him confidence and a purpose, he knows his role in the group and helps Ashlyn with strategising, he’s got friends now and he’s not so lonely anymore.

Taylor and Tyler Hernandez are pretty implicitly stated as popular, you can see it in panels where they’re constantly surrounded by a large group of people, not to mention Tyler being a jock. But being surrounded by people doesn’t necessarily make you less lonely, the two have only ever had each other in their lives. Tyler was never able to have fun because he was too busy caring for his mother and sister while still trying to get a sports scholarship for university and Taylor watched as her twin began to load too many weights onto himself. After the Sorrel Weed house, Tyler and Taylor began to open up and have fun, for once they were both finally able to have people to rely on since the death of their parents.

Aiden had been travelling around and meeting people who he knew wouldn’t stay in the end, how could they when not even his own parents could? I think it’s pretty implied that Aiden’s parents were pretty neglectful and emotionally unavailable, being described as away on business trips and unaware of his low point in life. He also couldn’t make friends that would last because they moved so often (which I can only imagine how lonely that could be). It’s also pretty implied that Aiden’s untethered a major adrenaline seeker, reckless and uncaring of the danger he puts himself in.

Yet once he saw Ashlyn upset over his death, he had finally found a motivation to live again and with his friends, days aren’t suddenly spent alone anymore.

It was also by chance that Ben Clark ended up moving in with Aiden’s family and due to messed up reasons at that. His dreams of singing were forcibly taken from him leaving him with unmanaged anger and building resentment, his situation was so traumatising to the where he went mute. Losing the one thing you love and are good at is a visceral pain, something he’s been holding in for years.

Then he meets Aiden, he trusts him and follows him around and sort of became comfort blankets for eachother.

So funnily enough, I think you can credit Aiden for being the reason they’ve all met now.

By pure coincidence, Ashlyn got placed next to Aiden. By pure coincidence, they ended up on the same bus. Now, they’re all roped into a phantom realm together but at least they have each other and I think there’s something really beautiful about that because without even meaning to, they’ve made such a huge impact on eachother’s lives.

Without the phantom realm, they would have had normal lives unharmed but would they have been fulfilled?

(Can you tell I’m a sucker for the found family trope?)

[harrywavycurly]

In the SC universe I feel like Harry just knows when his girl is around? Like he can sense her and then he can pinpoint her laugh from across his house and knows exactly where she’s at and that makes me so soft 🥺🥺

Hiiii babes!!! Oh wow I don’t know why this made me go “awe oh my god” because I agree, I think Harry just knows when she’s around and he can for sure tell where she’s at based on how far away her laugh is because that’s one of his favorite sounds🥹 so because I’m so soft over this I’ll give you a tiny little something based off it💖

-find all things Southern Comfort here✨

A/N: You can’t find Harry at a party but don’t worry he knows exactly where you’re at.

You give the person that’s standing next you a smile as they continue talking about what they do for a living, you know it’s something music related but that’s really all you’ve been able to gather from the short time you’ve been standing next to them. In all honesty you haven’t been paying them much attention because you’ve been too busy scanning the room for a certain tall dark haired man with annoyingly pretty green eyes that said he was going to get you another drink and be right back, but that well over five minutes ago. When you don’t see him you decide to be polite and tune back into the conversation and soon find yourself laughing at a joke.

Harry hears you before he can actually lay his eyes on you. He hears the all too familiar sound of your laughter floating above the music playing in the living room of the house the two of you are currently enjoying a party at and he can’t help but smile because it’s a sound that he’s sure he won’t ever get tired of hearing. He can tell you’re somewhere near the back of the room based on how soft it sounded when it hit his ears, so he just gives people polite smiles and nods as he maneuvers through the small crowd that stand between him and where he knows you’re at.

When he finally sees you his smile turns into a grin because you’re standing there looking slightly out of place with your jeans and lace tank top that’s covered by one of his vests you “borrowed” from his closet that has stars on it that match your jeans, but the way you’re talking to the two people around you and how they are looking at you with big smiles would have anyone thinking you’d known them forever. That’s a thing Harry has come to discover about you, somehow you make everyone feel as if they’ve known you forever and there’s never any awkwardness because you just have a comforting vibe about you that soothes people. It’s also why he knows you’re such a wonderful teacher as well, you make everyone feel comfortable, heard and most of all happy.

“There you are sugar.” Your voice pulls him from his thoughts as his eyes land on yours making a grin appear on your face as you turn to face him. “I was wondering if I’d ever see you again.” Harry just laughs as he takes a step closer to you, he reaches his hand out and you give him your empty cup so he can stack it under the full on he had gotten for you from the kitchen.

“Sorry it took me so long love I got stuck talking to a few people in the kitchen.” He explains as you take the drink from his hand with a smile. He takes another step so he’s standing behind you and gives the two people you were talking to a smile and nod.

“This is my honey but his real name is Harry.” You slightly turn so you can motion towards Harry. “Honey this is Lindsey.” You motion towards the woman with blonde hair and Harry gives her a wave and she smiles and lifts her glass up to him. “And this is James.” You motion to the man standing next to Lindsey with short black hair and Harry once again just nods and smiles while the man does the same.

“Lovely to meet you both.” You smile as Harry speaks and you feel one of his hands land on your hip slightly pulling you towards him so your back is almost flush against his chest.

“She was ready to send out a search party for you.” James jokes as he points towards you making Harry look down at you with a smile when he sees you’re already looking up at him.

“Worried I wasn’t going to come back?” He asks with a playful smirk and you just roll your eyes and look away from him and to the drink in your hands.

“Oh I know you were coming back.” Your voice is teasing making your accent a little thicker, Lindsey and James laugh but Harry knows you’re serious because well you know that’s just the way he is with you, he will always come back to you no matter if it’s just from getting you a drink at a party or coming back from a tour. “I just thought you didn’t know where I was.” You add before taking a sip of your drink.

“I always know where to find you.” You just smile as you feel him lean down and place a kiss to the top of your head. The conversation quickly goes back to normal as Lindsey asks you what you do for a living and Harry can’t help but feel a sense of pure contentment as he’s standing in the living room of a house party with you in his arms talking amongst people neither of you have met before.

[momtaku]

Excerpts from Shingeki Fly

I finally had time today to look closely at my copy of Shingeki Fly. I used my cell phone to translate bits of the interviews, so mileage may vary, but I am fairly confident the gist is more or less correct.

About the Shingeki Fly Color Art Book

Since Isayama prides himself on not being an excellent artist, he wanted the color art book to highlight the work Mr. Nakao, his colorist since the beginning of the series.

I really like this reflection regarding Mr. Nakao on his first chapter of Attack on Titan:

This is the first color manuscript that a presumptuous amateur, a newcomer who doesn't really know how to hold a pen left or right. The composition, panel layout, and everything else is terrible, but the way you colored it so nicely made me think that maybe I can make a living as a manga artist, and that manga doesn't have to be created by one person alone. I remember feeling hopeful that I would be able to participate in the unknown series that was about to begin.

Isayama's experience at Anime NYC in January 2022:

Isayama talks about how happy he was to visit Manhattan. Because he can't be normal for two seconds, he mentions that seeing the skyscrapers at night reminded him of the 1998 GODZILLA movie.

He also talks about the fan panel. My translation app says something like this: By actually seeing the crowd I was able to realize that Attack on Titan,'' which I had been drawing while holed up in my room in Tokyo, was connected to people far away from Japan and overseas. I was very happy to be able to see each fan's face and think, ``How happy are they?''

(I was able to attend that fan panel in person so I can attest how emotional he was by seeing us all there.)

Isayama's experience at Anglouleme in France in January 2023:

Being in France made him feel very far away from Japan because the city and architecture were so different from what he was used to. He described walking on the streets by the Eiffel tower in the middle of the night as thrilling.

While he set the landscape of Attack on Titan as French, German and Italian architecture, he understands now it was all from his Japanese perspective. Seeing the city is person was completely different from what he'd imagined.

How it felt drawing Levi after such a long time

Here is something I didn't know. At first Isayama was going to write a prequel set 100 years before the main story, but after meeting the fans in France he realized the idea of a one shot was to make them happy. Instead of an original idea, he settled the tea cup story, which is something he'd intended to write but had never had the chance.

He said is was surprisingly easy to draw Levi again after such a long break. The only thing he really had to think about is what Levi would sound like as a 10 year old.

"Bad Boy" was also his first time drawing manga on an iPad. Because he wasn't used to it, he had three assistants helping him. I really want a good translation of this bit because it seems funny. He mentions something about how what should've been digital remote work was more of an analog training camp. He said is was fun to reminisce about his "war era" when he would work while chatting with his assistants about trivial matters.

[inbarfink]

The deaths of all the Finch kids are really so unbearably tragic. It really speaks to the quality of the writing and storytelling in ‘What Remains’. They’re written as so vivid and human and real, but also so many of them died so young. They were children, it’s so much harder for me to do the whole ‘well, let’s appreciate the life they did have’ thing when the majority of them didn’t even have a chance to become the people they could have become. And yet the image of who they could’ve been if they survived is so vivid in my mind. 

Edith had that line about how she always imagined Molly as a girl she could be good friends with. Obviously if she didn’t die back in 1947 they wouldn’t really be at the same age group, but she’d be one hell of a Cool Aunt. I can only imagine her Weird Girl tendencies would’ve only grown stronger and stronger with age. Considering her fascination with animals, maybe she would’ve gone to study Zoology or Biology when she grew older? And since she was dissecting a sea star just before her canon death…

Sadly, I’m not sure if Barbara would’ve been able to resurrect her acting career. But there’s some subtle hints in her room that in reality she was more willing to move past it compared to her fictionalized version in that horror comic (which can’t be easy when you live in a room your dad themed entirely around your child-star years THANKS SVEN). That ‘horror convention’ seems to be an invention of the comic, Barbara’s actual room has a flier for a ‘Witch’s Ball’ at Orcas Island High School and a dress ready for it. 

Barbara Finch didn’t actually spend her last day on earth hopelessly trying to revive her dead career, she was hoping to have a fun Halloween party like a regular teenager. Maybe the fact that it was hosted by the Orcas Island High School Drama Club implies she still had an interest in acting and theatre. Maybe she could’ve ended up as a classically trained actress with the child-stardom as just a fun quirk of her past? Or maybe she just wanted to take part in the Witches Ball because she likes Spooky Things? And she could have found her way back into the Horror Scene in a different way, like being a writer or costume designer or something?

Maybe Calvin could’ve become an Astronaut like he always wanted? But I think Calvin might’ve been more enthralled with the fantasy of science fiction than the reality of space travel. I’m thinking a lot about how Sam described Clavin in Gregory’s memoriam as ‘lost in his imagination’. Maybe he could’ve become a science fiction writer or something?

Walter didn’t technically die young, but he still certainly lost most of his years to the Curse. Like, a big thing about the tragedy of Walter to me is realizing his original childhood bedroom was themed after “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” and trains. 

Lil’ Walter did have an interest in adventure and travel, before his fears took it all away from him. If it wasn’t for the Curse, Walter could’ve actually something with it. Maybe he could’ve traveled around a bit and written about his experiences.

Lewis would’ve probably gone into game design. It’s not just how his fantasies manifest to us the players, but you can actually find books about game design and coding in his room. It seems that the problem was that his crappy job and his depression took away any opportunity he might have had to actually pursue this idea. Maybe if Milton never left, these three Finch siblings could’ve combined their creative skills together to make like, a very cool artsy game.

Speaking of which… man, Edith’s death stings the most because we got to know her far better than anyone else. And it’s not even the fact that she never got to share her all of her thoughts and creativity with the wider world that makes me the saddest. Getting to the end of the game and hearing just how much she was looking forwards to be with her son - even with all the hardships of being a teen mom, she was really looking forwards to it. To meet him, to share her stories with him. But instead, that worn old diary is the only connection between them...

And that’s like… part of what’s so great about WRoEF’s use of its own format. Like, the faux-interactive linearity of the Narrative Exploration/‘Walking Simulator’ is so perfect for selling this tragedy. The way each Death Flashback only moves forwards based on the actions of the Player, but it always moves on the same unchanging doomed path - really highlights both how stupidly preventable so many of these deaths feel and really make the Player wish there was a way to change them. After all, all they need is for Calvin to not swing so hard, for Gregory’s faucet to not turn back on, for Walter to not stand directly on those train tracks and everything would’ve been fine. But at the same time it’s so, so clear to the Player that this is an impossible wish. There is no other way these sequences can go - these deaths have already been written. The most you can you is linger, all you can do is delay the inevitable. 

But it hurts.

[rougepancake]

Monophobia

FT. Kars; Afab! Reader

WELCOME TO THE MONSTER MASQUERADE

WARNINGS: Minors and ageless blogs dni. Sexually explicit content under cut. Corruption, implied loss of virginity (reader), vampire Kars, jealousy, Kars sort of steals you from Joseph. Not proofread.

SUMMARY: Joseph Joestar wanted to ask you to dance with him so badly, but someone beat him to it. He wanted to whisk you away into the night and tell you how much he loved you, but someone fucking beat him to it. And it was Lord Kars, of all people.

It had been quite a long time since you had attended a formal ball, and it showed. Everyone here knew everyone, except for you.

Actually, you did recognize a few faces, but you wanted nothing to do with them. Instead, your plan was to dance by yourself in a ballroom full of strangers. They meant nothing to you, and were just a symbol of your status amongst the people of your country.

With that thought in mind, you decided to set down your wine and head out onto the floor. Faces turned towards you, but their stares didn’t last long. They were simply too wrapped up in their own business to care about someone who was dancing alone.

You let your body move freely to the music, your eyes closed in a moment of pure ecstasy. This atmosphere was one unlike any other you had experienced, and you loved it. Your moves were perfectly timed with the music that was being played by the live orchestra, or at least they were. Someone grabbed your hand, throwing you off entirely as they brought you back towards them.

Hastily, you turned around to meet the gorgeously captivating eyes of a man who seemed all too familiar. He smiled arrogantly, and you could have sworn that you saw fangs, though it was probably just a trick of the light.

“Well hello there my darling.” His moves matched yours, and you couldn’t help but smile at how he adapted to your movements. “I have never met someone as inclined to dance as you, would you be interested in providing me with your name?” His voice was deep and confident, his aura being at least ten times stronger than every man in the room.

Something about him was off, but he was simply too beautiful of a creature to ignore.

“My name is of no importance, us dancing together is as much of an introduction as you need.” You spun gracefully at his whim, giggling softly as you did so. Though, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being watched.

And you were.

Joseph Joestar has had his eyes on you since you first walked into the room, but he wasn’t able to bring himself to talk to you. You looked stunning in that getup, and it made his heart hurt to watch you dance with none other than Lord Kars.

He couldn’t help but glare at the two of you as Kars whisked you out of the room and off to who knows where. Why hadn’t he made a move? Maybe it’s because he didn’t expect you to actually show up…

It was his ball, after all.

“Where are you taking me, Lord Kars?” His name rolled off your tongue in a way that made you want to repeat it. Such a sound was beautiful in its own right, and it made you curious as to why.

Without a word, he pulled you into a random closet that was far away from the rest of the party. There was a look in his eyes that gave you chills. And as unsettling as it was, you didn’t have it in you to leave his side.

“You know not of what I am, only what I have allowed you to see…” He spoke in a low tone, as if prompting you to ask him what he was talking about. “Would you… like to see more..?”

You hesitate to nod, since you can’t help but feel like something bad is going to happen to you. Your giddiness fades away slowly, and as he flashes his inhuman fangs in the darkness, an overwhelming sense of dread washes over you.

“Y-You’re a…”

“Vampire. Aren’t I beautiful?” He smirked and leaned down, aiming for your neck with his fangs.

“Wait!” You push him back as far as you can. Your back is now quite literally against a wall, and your hands are on his chest. You may not be the strongest, but you’ve clearly caught him off guard.

And he’s pissed.

“What? Are you frightened?” There’s an audible change in his tone, like he’s trying to intimidate you. “Are you not used to seeing monsters?”

“N-No- it’s not that!” You manage to blurt out, still holding him back. “I just don’t want to die at the hands of a stranger-“

“Oh? Who said you were to die at my hand?”

He reached out and placed a hand underneath your chin, smirking at you in the dimly lit room. He dared not to push back against you, knowing that it would most certainly scare you off.

“Trust me my dear, fear is the last thing you’ll be feeling when I’m done ruining you.” Then, out of what seemed to be nowhere, he pulled you towards him and kissed you roughly. A feeling unlike any other spread throughout your body and you began to feel yourself leaning into his touch. There was something about him that made you want more than you should.

Though, there was just something about him that you couldn’t tear yourself away from.

The more he kissed you the more you realized you weren’t going to leave this room without experiencing his full beauty. He was going to tear your innocence away and replace it with a carnal desire that only he could quench.

He was going to ruin you.

[weepingstars07]

Death Watch Jango and Sith Concubine Obi Wan Au

Also known as another au i can’t be bothered writing but would love to read

So instead of Jango being found by Jaster, Death Watch manage to catch up to him while the True Mandalorians go in guns blazing and rescue Arla.

Jango and Arla are kind of role swapped with Jango as Tor’s adoptive son, favourite assassin and all round punching bag.

Arla on the other hand is adopted by Jaster and believes her little brother burnt to death in the fields of their own family farm. This and the murder of her parents leads to serious anger issues that lead on to a level of violence that puts her slightly at odds with the true Mandalorians. This isn’t to say they hate each other though, she still considers Jaster her father and jaster consider her his daughter. Arla does eventually end up splitting ways with them going off to find her own way in the galaxy.

This world’s Obi wan never escaped Bandomeer and ended up sold further into slavery until Darth Plagueis finds and buys him for Sheev ( i dont think the timeline works out but oh well, wibbly wobbly timey wimey).

Plagueis predicts that Palpatine and Obi wan will be the Chosen one’s parents. (The force actually meant parental figures but sith have never been very good listeners). Obi Wan as a stewjoni is able to get pregnant but has only had miscarriages and still births much to Palpatine’s endless frustration. Eventually he decides Plagueis must have been mocking him and this is only reinforced when he finds a small slave boy named Anakin with the force presence of twin suns. He decides this boy must be the true chosen one and makes him his apprentice. He does not realise how close his concubine and Apprentice become other the years until it’s too late. Anakin does still consider Palpatine a fatherly figure to him but in an an even more twisted way than canon while Obi wan is still his BrotherDad figure.

Obi Wan and Jango meet when they’re both about 18 or 19, after Tor teams up with Palpatine (or more accurately gets himself manipulated into becoming Palpatine’s puppet). Obi wan is used by Palpatine to keep any eye on his Mandalore project which is quite frustrating to him as it means being seperated from anakin.

The boys end up forming a strange sort of bond when realising how badly treated the other his. Its not until Jango is handed the prototype for a clone army made in his image under sith/mandalorian control that he decides enough is enough. In the dead of night he steals the prototype, who he names Boba, from the Kaminoan labs and knocks Obi Wan out and steals him too.

Jango decides that he’s going to stop the cloning project before he has an army of enslaved ade on his hands, maybe kill Tor and then run off into the sunset with Obi Wan and their new child.

Obi Wan’s reaction is along the lines of ‘wtf, your going to get us both killed’ but as the concept of freedom comes closer and closer he agrees on the condition they figure out how to steal Anakin too, difficult because Obi Wan doesn’t actually know what facility they are usually held in.

With a plan now prepared the two set out to conquer evil and live out their happy ever after on some tropical paradise far away from the mandalorians or Sith.

However they what they don’t realise is that be some will of the force the first planet they land on they accidentally bump into a Jedi shadow. Maybe its Tholme or Feemor or someone completely unknown but they are pretty quick to notice Obi Wan looks a lot like the Initiate that disappeared a few year ago become of Yoda’s (however well intended) meddling. This sparks a Jedi manhunt to find this lost soul who they believe has been enslaved by a Mandalorian.

Jaster and the True Mandalorians are running around the galaxy trying to get more info on this army that Tor is apparently building. Arla is reunited with them and agrees to help out.

And …. Thats all I’ve got for now.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Katniss feeling insecure one random afternoon after seeing Peeta interact with some pretty girlies and asking him later that night all quiet if he thinks she’s pretty 🥺

I meant for this to be funny and then it turned out... not funny. Oh well. Enjoy some post-Mockingjay not fluff but not really angst??? No warning tags on this one.

“Having an eye for beauty isn’t the same thing as a weakness,” Peeta points out. “Except possibly when it comes to you.” - Catching Fire, Chapter 15 “You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?” - Mockingjay, Chapter 16

It takes me longer than usual to finish trading with the new butcher. She’s originally from Ten and came here after marrying a soldier from Thirteen. She refused to live underground any longer and he tried living in Ten, but felt too exposed and jumpy in the flat plains of that district. Twelve was their compromise. But I haven’t had the chance to build the kind of rapport with her that I had with Rooba.

Rooba. I make a mental note to ask Peeta to draw her for the memory book tonight. We’ll both have memories of her that need to be recorded.

When I finish with the butcher, mostly satisfied with the cuts of deer meat and the coin I walk away with, I make my way over to the bakery. Usually I’d help Peeta close for the day. I got lucky catching the deer so close to the fence, but it still took time for me to bring back enough help to drag it to the butcher.

Surprisingly, there are still a handful of customers in the bakery. Unusual, this late in the day. I hasten my steps, thinking Peeta might want some help getting rid of the chatty customers, and seeing me after a hunt usually does the trick.

As I reach the window, though, I slow my pace. It’s not just any customers. It’s the Lassiter girls. They moved here after the war with their father, who used to be the head foreman at a perfume factory in District One. Apparently someone thought his skills would translate well to running a medicine factory, because that’s what his job here is. And his five daughters -- Neroli, Dior, Ambrette, Clary, and Opal -- aged twenty-four to sixteen, spaced two years apart down the line, are each just as beautiful as the last. Gossip holds that they each have a different mother, and while there’s been no confirmation from their father on that point, they’re each so strikingly different in looks and coloring that it wouldn’t surprise me.

They’re currently clustered near the counter, a bouquet of undoubtedly sweet smelling flowers. Their dresses a rainbow of eye-catching hues in expensive looking fabrics. All I can do is snort as I think of how dull and dingy their clothes would’ve been if they’d lived here when there was still a coal mine. But their hair, although different shades, all gleams in glossy waves and curls and curtains of shimmering silk in the bright lights of the bakery.

I hear Peeta’s laughter then, followed shortly by the twittering chorus of the Lassiter girls’ giggling. Ugh. They cannot be serious. Not my Peeta.

None of them are married yet, and there’ve already been several District Twelve men turned away from their front door step with dazed looks in their eyes, like they couldn’t believe they’d actually dared to propose to one of the Lassiter girls. And while this group ambush of my Peeta gives me an idea of what sort of partner they might be looking for, it’s unacceptable.

I push through the bakery door and attempt a smile. Neroli sees me first. The oldest, and by far the smartest of this bunch, our eyes meet and her lips curl in a smile. She’s dressed in a dark, forest green dress. Her dark, almost black hair swept to one side, into a long, sleek ponytail. There’s no denying that she’s stunning. Long, sooty black lashes frame her pale eyes that I’ve never been able to decide if they’re blue or gray. Some part of me knows that if I were somehow more beautiful, I might look like her.

Neroli glances at Peeta, then back at me. She inclines her head slightly towards me, and I’m not certain what she means until she speaks.

“Father will be wondering what’s keeping us,” she announces to her sisters. “Come on. Get your purchases and let’s leave these two turtle doves alone.”

She still pauses to say something to Peeta before she and her sisters clear out, but the glance she throws my way before shutting the door behind her makes me think that maybe Neroli and I might’ve been friends under different circumstances. When I finally manage to look at Peeta, he’s head down in the cases, cleaning them out.

“Lock the door for me? How was your day in the woods?”

“Not bad,” I tell him as I throw the bolt. “I got a deer.”

“That’s great!”

“Put this in the cold storage while I sweep?” I hand him the package from the butchers and he hands me a broom across the counter. It’s one of my usual chores and it isn’t long after that we’re headed home. But all through dinner, I can’t get the image of the flock of Lassiter girls twittering around him out of my head. 

I distract myself after we clean up the kitchen with the memory book, telling Peeta about the deer today and how things went with the new butcher. We share a few memories of Rooba while he sketches her and I write them down in draft. We manage to finish her page and seal it into the book before it’s very late.

And while Peeta showers with me, and stands next to me while we brush our teeth and get ready for bed, he somehow feels distant. As I lay down and watch him as he carefully removes his prosthetic, I can’t help but think again about the Lassiter girls.

“Goodnight, my love,” he murmurs as he turns to me, slipping his legs under the covers and cupping my cheek in his palm before kissing my lips once, softly.

“Goodnight,” I respond and blink when he turns out the light and lays down.

But I can’t get comfortable. And behind my closed eyes, I see a still ravaged Peeta, the hijacking reversal barely even begun. His knuckles pale as he gripped the bedsheets beneath him and restraints holding him down, safely away from me.

“You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty.”

I huff out a heavy breath and jam the heels of my palms into my closed eyes, trying to push the image out of my brain. He’s laying right here beside me. He kissed me and called me his love just minutes ago. What Peeta and I have puts the stars in the sky and the poets’ words on the page to shame with its depth and significance. That’s far better than some superficial beauty.

And yet the words still slip past my lips.

“Peeta,” I whisper, and he hums in response so that I’m not sure if he’s fully awake or not. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

There’s a few seconds of silence and then I hear the sound of the sheets rustling as Peeta turns over to face me.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s just a question,” I say and smack my hands down onto the bed, right at my sides. They’re still clenched into fists and I try to hold back the sudden, ridiculous tears welling up in my eyes. Because his hesitancy to answer tells me what I need to know. How stupid of me to ask.

“Katniss, honey,” he breathes and moves through the dark, pulling me into his arms. “You will always be as radiant as the sun to me,” he tells me and I snort, wishing I’d never told him that phrase or how I’d once used it. “No, I’m serious. Katniss, you take my breath away.”

“But I’m still not particularly pretty. At least not as pretty as Neroli Lassiter, am I?” I poke and I can feel his frame stiffening besides me.

“No. Oh no, no, you can’t believe what I said that day, Katniss.”

“But you were right. I’m not very big.”

“And we both looked like shit that day because we’d been through too much shit. That doesn’t mean I meant it, Katniss. You have to know I was… I was trying to hurt you that day. Hurt you the way I thought you’d hurt me. Because I thought you’d used me, chosen Gale and the rebels, and left me to die or worse in that arena.”

“I know,” I say and finally manage to turn over into his embrace, burying my face in his chest as he caresses my back and whispers a hundred apologies for his careless words. I inhale his scent and let his hands soothe me.

So when he slips his fingers beneath my chin, I let him lift my face to his. I close my eyes and savor the brush of his lips against mine.

“You once told me that I had a weakness for beautiful things,” he whispers. “Real or not real?”

“Real,” I answer without pause. I can smell the horses and feel the warmth of Cinna’s glowing ember costume. I can see Peeta in front of me, radiant and beautiful, and smiling in amusement at my assessment of him. “But you don’t have a weakness for beauty. Only an eye for it,” I remind him.

“So yes, Neroli Lassiter is a beautiful woman--”

“And her sisters?” I prod and I can feel Peeta smiling against my lips as he kisses me once.

“And her sisters are, too. But you’re the only beautiful person I have a weakness for. No one else has left a lasting impression the way you have.”

I can’t help but smile stupidly at the repetition of his words from the cave. The reminder that somewhere amongst the acting for the cameras, we always had at least a sliver, a taste, a fraction of or at least the roots of something real.

“I’m still a goner for you, Katniss Everdeen, real or not real?” he whispers, and I already know the answer. I know what he wants me to say, because it’s true.

“Real.”

[imahinatjon]

Vampires and their Spawn

Dazai, Nikolai and Jouno.

It's been a while since I've written anything, I'll put my notes on that at the end, for now, enjoy some Vampire Lords while you play the part of their lovely vampire spawn.

Some dark themes at some point I guess.

Dazai

• I can imagine that, as a vampire, he's kinda useless in terms of being a vampire lord. Like, he's still Dazai, so he's still intelligent and sort of charming in his own way, quick thinker, all the usual, I won't drown you with the details.

• But I imagine his ability - no longer human - translates over to vampirism.

• If he were a spawn, this would be great! He couldn't be compelled like others. But he's not, he's a vampire lord, he cannot magically compel others, he can't change forms, he can't... anything cool or dangerous is off the table really.

• Expect for turning people - he can still turn others into his vampire spawn, not that he's really felt the need.

• Being a vampire means being able to roam freely only during the night, or sometimes on a particularly cloudy day.

• But that's probably the only reason he met you. His damned curse let him meet the most beautiful warm blooded, living person he'd ever seen.

• Your life wasn't difficult to infiltrate, for dazai anyway. Any other person might have had a hard time. But not this guy!

• The how's and the whys are all irrelevant now- facts of the past. All that's necessary to know, is that you became his vampire spawn.

• Not the first, but the only one at current. You never asked what happened to the one or ones before you, and he never told you (but you could probably guess)

• He doesn't treat you any differently from normal just because your now his spawn.

• Your in a relationship as healthy as a relationship with Dazai can be.

• He can't compell you and has no actual control over anything you do, so he has no need to worry that your not genuine, doesn't have to worry that your staying around against your own free will. He's content.

• Just worried.

• More for your safety than anything, you may be undead and permenantly by his side, but you could still die.

• As a result, he perfers you stay away from him in areas that are too public.

• If it's like a dark quiet park with barely any people there, or a really obscure unheard of restaurant, or even a tiny only movie theatre that no one goes to anymore - then its great! He likes having dates and stuff in places like these.

• He just won't take you anywhere with a lot of people incase someone spots you and connects the dots

• Overall - he's not controlling, obsessive, scary or even remotely threatening, he's just a little cautious.

• This... is not a pleasant experience. At first anyway.

Nikolai

• Nikolai is a not so busy, busy guy. And isn't interested in serious romantic relationships, he's a vampire lord with no spawn and no intention to take any spawn.

• Claims he has no need for them. And he doesn't, I mean, his ability is pretty damn cool, and super useful, so that's that.

• How you became his spawn though? Totally an accident.

• You were someone he thought was hot, and someone he occasionally engaged in acrivities with. It was a mutually beneficial thing no harm was being done.

• Until he got a little too adventurous and bit you. It happened on occasion, and was typically fine, but he went too far and ended up turning you instead of just taking a little blood.

• He doesn't know how because that isn't what he intended, he didn't even recognise he was doing it until he realised you felt cold, but was very much still alive and moving about.

• It lead to a whole fight and everything - a massive argument and you didn't see eachother for months. You were understandably annoyed that he turned you.

• He just thought it was funny.

• I mean - he wasn't thrilled either, but like, it was kinda funny.

• Then he realised that he could essentially feel where you were all the time. That got old after a while though, as did avoiding you (technically you were avoiding him)

• So he approaches you. He's not really into the whole serious conversation, but indulges you nonetheless and listens to what you have to say.

• And in turn he tells you it was an accident.

• You leave on slightly better terms and go back to your old routine. Though now it feels slightly different.

• He doesn't realise he's doing it until its too late and he's talking you out on nice dates and looking out for you more often and asking how your day was - and of course, seeing you for more than just the benefits.

• The realisation was not a good one for him and he 100% tried to kill you over it.

• News flash - you survived and begun avoiding him again. Which honestly hurt him way more than killing you would have.

• Don't worry for too long though, after about a year or so, he'll settle down, it's just a matter of wether or not your willing to let him back into your life and potentially have a more serious relationship with him after everything he did.

• If you choose a relationship, he's actually sweet - doesn't use his powers on you unless your in imminent danger of literal death. Also very attentive and gives you basically anything you ask for, even if he has to steal it.

Jouno

• If you'd rather not, we'll now you have an insane stalker who can literally sniff you out like a bloodhound. It's not fun, and the only assurance you really have is that he won't hurt you and will always keep a distance.

• He'd be a scary vampire.

• He's scary enough as a normal human, as a member of the hunting dogs.

• But a vampire lord?

• He's not knowingly a bad guy - let's put it like that.

• Teruko is the only reason the two of you met. It took her a lot of convincing to even get him to agree to date anyone (he seemed tense and was being annoying. She thought he could do with going out and having a good time, a little relaxation, a little distraction, and thought a date was the perfect idea, but ovbiously she wasnt gonna go)

• When he meets you, he's all smiles, extremely pleasant, seemingly caring, AND he has some sort of job in law enforcement? He doesn't tell you what he does at said job, bit he presents as the perfect guy.

• If perhaps a little distant. See, he's good at putting up that act, but if you pay just the right amount of attention, and look closely enough, he's not entirely genuine. Not honest.

• You personally think it's because he's not interested, and your more than happy to leave it at that. It was still a pleasant time. And you weren't really looking for anything particular anyway.

• So it surprised you when he called and arranged to meet you again. He didn't really ask, more so just told you where he was gonna be.

• Still, you turned up.

• It's like this for a while. He's just enjoying your life presence, and it buds from there. He never tells you he's a vampire, he wants you to figure it out for yourself.

• He leaves little hints.

• He makes sure you notice how cold his skin is, he ensures that at some point (probably after a few months) he lays with you and has your head resting on his chest precisely where you should hear a heartbeat - your not going to hear anything, and it will all leave you questioning.

• Especially when his teeth, that are just that tad bit too sharp brush across your neck, surprising you and worrying you a little - why are his teeth so sharp?

• You don't believe in vampires, or didn't anyway. They couldn't have been real. But then he bit you, not enough to actually draw blood, but enough to let you know that he could, if he wanted.

• Of course it scared you, but he'd worked your trust at this point, so you weren't necessarily afraid of him.

• You looked to him, and though he couldn't see you, he could hear your heart rate pick up rapidly, before slowing back down to, only a slightly worried pace.

• And then you let him drink from you.

• That's how it was, for years. He cared about you, sure, he was more than happy to be in some sort of relationship with you, definitely, but it wasn't ever meant to go that far. It was just... well, your blood was not the only thing about you he found thoroughly enticing.

• Still, he kept you around, alive, for a few years until he eventually asked if you'll spend an Eternity with him, if you'll become his spawn.

• If you didn't agree - then the relationship was over. He wanted something more permenant with you than the fleeting moment that was a simple humans life time.

• If you agreed - well, he was quick to turn you. He told you about all the drawbacks, and made sure you understood - you were stronger and better, but you couldn't go out in direct sunlight, and would need to feed on blood.

• And then you were his for an Eternity.

• He was definitely controlling, definitely wanted to know where you were all the time. And definately used his powers on you.

• Granted that was on a very rare occasion and only happened when you put yourself in danger or someone else put you in danger.

• He hadn't noticed as much before, but he definatly noticed a lot more about you after he turned you, and ultimately determined you weren't safe on your own - he was wrong, and you can convince him to give you breathing space, because a bump against the side of a table is not a life threatening injury.

• So, after getting used to having you around permenantly and being his first 'spawn' and by extension serious relationship, he does calm down and leaves you to your own devices most of the time.

• ...by the way, he still never told you what his job was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am seriously out of practice. I've been ill for over 3 months now and still am currently ill 😅 it'll get better eventually but, there's been that.

That and baldurs gate 3 took over my life

I'll try and get back into writing. This was a warm up.

This hasn't been spell checked! Yet

[bittenbyyou]

Stolen Moments

High School!AU | MCU!Peter Parker x Best Friend!Reader

genre: fluff

description: You and Peter’s first kiss didn’t go the way you planned.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: references to Spider-Man: Far From Home, Peter not knowing any fairytales/Disney princesses and being a lovable dork

a/n: Another snippet based on real life events of how my bf and i got together lol. Enjoy the fluff and please feel free to let me know if you liked it!

One thing you loved most about your best friend was his inability to remember classic fairy tales. No matter how many times you summarized them, Peter would find a way to botch it every single time. Even going so far as to invent alternative story lines, which never failed to crack you up. You would tease him endlessly for it, but then he’d grill you for having never watched Star Wars or any of the Harry Potter movies. That’s what we’d call balance in your friendship.

“Fairy tale pop quiz!” Peter groaned dramatically as he plopped down on his couch, phone in hand with your big grinning face on FaceTime. 

“Not fairy tales… anything but those. They’re my weakness,” he whined. You laid on your side in bed, giggling.

“The great Peter Parker who’s in band, robotics, and the decathlon can’t recall a few simple fairy tales?”

“Well, I actually quit those,” he shared, ruffling the back of his hair with a sheepish grin. Your face fell, eyes wide and concerned. 

“Wait, when? Why?”

It’s not like Peter could tell you he was Spider-Man even though he really, really wanted to. The less you knew, the better. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to you.

“I’m really busy.”

“Stark Internship?”

His eyes lit up when you gave him a reason. “Right, yes!” 

Thank god for your incredible memory. “Makes sense. It’s been a while since we’ve even FaceTimed each other. You’re usually so busy at night.”

He saw the way your lips pouted as your crestfallen eyes looked away from the camera, making his chest feel tight. “I miss you too.”

Your gaze flickered back up to meet his own. Peter gulped, wondering if he sounded too emotional. Too affectionate. Too… obvious.

“Touché, Parker,” you said, rolling onto your back. “Okay, no more stalling. Tell me… which fairy tale princess ate the poison apple?”

Peter shut his eyes tight, thinking carefully. You both went to LegoLand one time and there was a display case that had the poison apple. You had asked him the same question then, pointing at the apple excitedly.

“Before we’re old would be nice,” you teased. Peter lifted up his index finger and shushed you. 

“Hold on, I got it,” His eyes fluttered open after remembering there was a small sign next to the poison apple display. “Little Mermaid.”

“Why would The Little Mermaid eat a poisonous apple?!” You bursted out into laughter at his confidence. “Dude, you said the same thing back when we went to LegoLand. The sign was in the wrong spot.”

“Darn it,” he muttered with a snap of his fingers. 

“I’ll give you a hint. Weather.”

“... Tornadoes?”

“What princess has “tornado” in her name?!” you exclaimed, trying your best not to wheeze. Peter couldn’t help but join in the laughter, knowing he was making a fool of himself. 

“You snorted,” he said in a taunting voice. “Gross.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

It’s true. He loved your laugh. Mostly because you always laughed with your whole body and sometimes would keel over. Even in public. In fact, you were probably about to fall off your bed right this second because your face suddenly became blurry and shaky. 

“Did you almost fall?” 

You successfully caught yourself and your phone before it fell on your face. “No,” you readjusted your position and cleared your throat, “Try again. It’s cold weather.”

“It can’t be Frozen… I think I’d remember that. You’ve never said anything about an apple in Mulan the many times you’ve told me her story…” You nodded many times, appreciating the fact he remembered your love for Mulan. You saw how his brows furrowed in concentration, loving how serious he was taking this. “Snow White.”

“Good j—”

“Oh!” he shouted all of a sudden, almost giving you a heart attack. “She’s the one with the seven smurfs, right?!”

Oh Peter Parker….  You’re the cutest human alive, you thought. 

Another wave of laughter overcame you, which intensified tenfold once you saw the big dumb smile on Peter’s face. The boy really thought he got it right.

“No… honey, they’re dwarfs,” you said once the laughter subsided.

“... Same thing,” he said, followed by a shrug. “I knew that.”

“Oh, we’re in for a long night. How about Jack and the Beanstalk?” That one should be easy.

“Ooh! Um… wait, I got it, quit laughing, I haven't even started,” he said, chuckling at how you placed a hand on your mouth to refrain from laughing more. “A guy sells a dog or cow or sheep for beans that grow into a big bean stalk and climbs up there and I think there’s a giant in the clouds? I don’t know.”

“I like how you completely disregarded the part where he was persuaded to sell his animal for magical beans, but okay. Pretty good.” You gave him a wink, which he returned. 

“Told you I’m good at this.”

“Uh huh. Last one.”

Peter gave you a nod. “Go for it.”

“Cinderella.”

“Easy. She’s the one with long hair, with the glass shoes that’s supposed to be a perfect fit but somehow falls off and I think the guy uses her hair to find her and climb the castle before midnight when some magic wears off…”

You didn’t have enough energy to laugh and risk your abs becoming a liability, so you opted for parting your lips open slightly, shocked at how someone could be so, so wrong. 

“I think there’s some sisters or step sisters in it too!” he added, giving himself a pat on the back. “Nailed it.”

“Quite the opposite,” you said, shaking your head. “I love your dumbass sometimes.”

He knew you were using the word as a term of endearment, so it made him smile. He loved you too. So much. 

“What’s occupying all that headspace of yours these days that you can never remember the stories?” you teased. 

You are… and Spider-Man, Peter thought to himself. 

"Oh you know, there's an ongoing battle between my inner monologue and my stomach's incessant cravings for Aunt May's chocolate chip cookies. Spoiler alert: the cookies usually win."

“Oh my gosh, her cookies are the best.”

“Right?”

You both laid on your sides, a comforting silence blanketing the two of you for a few seconds. 

“So um…” you started to say, a twinge of nervousness in your voice. “Because your knowledge on Cinderella is so—”

“Awesome?”

“Awful,” you corrected, smiling at his lame joke. “I was wondering if you wanted to go see the school play this Friday. They’re performing Cinderella.”

Peter sat up from his couch. “You mean, you and me, g-going together?”

“Yeah. MJ didn’t want to go because seeing a damsel in distress who solely relies on a man saving her kills her vibe.” Peter chuckled at that. “Are you and Ned doing anything?”

“No.”

“Oh good,” You paused. “You can invite him to come too!”

Oh. 

Peter hid his disappointment by placing his phone down on the couch for a split second, gathering his thoughts. Why was he assuming that this was a date? Of course you’d ask Ned to come too. He was so silly.

“Peter?” you said. “Peter~, are you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m here.” He picked up the phone and gave you a thumbs up. “I’ll go. And I’ll ask Ned about it.”

“Cool. See ya then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Peter was so nervous. Which he knew was ridiculous because this was not a date, yet he spent hours picking out an outfit. What does one even wear to a school play anyway? In the end, he slipped on a white button-up with some jeans and headed to the school. 

He saw you standing by the front doors, wearing a pretty blouse and shorts. Simple but cute nonetheless. You always looked pretty to him. 

“Hey! Sorry I’m late,” Peter said while running up the steps to get to you. “Were you waiting long?”

You shook your head. “Not at all. The play starts in five minutes, so you made it on time.”

“Good. Good…” Now that he was up close, Peter noticed how you styled your hair differently from what you usually did. “Did you do something to your hair?”

“Yeah… is it weird?”

Peter shook his head rapidly. “No, you look good.”

“Just good?”

“Great. Spectacular. Fantastic,” he said with exploding hand motions.

You giggled. “Okay Mr. Thesaurus. Where’s Ned?”

“Ned told me he didn’t want to go.” Which Peter was secretly thankful for, but he’d never let you know that.

“Okay. Then it’ll just be us two. Let’s go.”

The two of you walked to the front doors and you didn’t miss how Peter practically ran in front of you just to open it first. You thanked him and then made your way to the school’s auditorium. Peter always suggested sitting in the back, claiming it had the best view but in reality, it’d be the easiest for him to slip away if duty called.

You did notice his backpack, finding it slightly odd he brought it to school after hours. However, you didn’t think too much of it because Peter always carried a backpack. It was handy when the two of you hung out at the mall and snuck in snacks into the movie theater or when you accidentally bought too much stuff at Target after claiming you only needed one thing.

“I bet Betty is going to look so beautiful. She’s Cinderella,” you said as you sat down on Peter’s left side. 

You’re beautiful. 

“Really? And Ned’s not the prince? I wonder how he feels about that.”

“Oh, they broke up,” you informed him. “I found out yesterday.”

“What? Dang, we could’ve had a double date,” he joked, testing the waters with you. You playfully smacked his arm. 

“In your dreams.”

The lights soon dimmed, letting you and Peter know the play was about to begin. Honestly, the play was far more entertaining than expected because it turned out to be a parody of Cinderella, much to your horror. Peter was relishing at how upset you were, whispering to him every few minutes on how the story “wasn’t accurate.” Honestly, it was super adorable seeing you so worked up.

You leaned close to Peter’s ear, causing his breath to hitch. “This is so ridiculous. It’s supposed to be a pumpkin carriage, not pumpkin pie.”

“... There’s supposed to be a carriage?” he whispered back. 

“See, this play is tainting your mind.”

“But you can’t tell me you’re not enjoying it.”

“It is pretty funny,” you admitted, noticing his arm on your shared armrest. You were about to place your hand on top of his when Nick Fury’s stern voice echoed loudly in his ear.

“Parker. Are you in position?”

“No,” Peter said loud enough for you to hear. You immediately retracted your hand and Peter realized what you were about to do. 

“No…?” you said softly. The look of hurt in your eyes made Peter panic.

“And why the hell not?” Nick Fury interrogated. Peter slapped his ear/earpiece to shut it up. 

“I-I didn’t mean that. Um… I need to go to the restroom.”

“You okay?”

“I’m…” His mind raced for an excuse. “I’m feeling sick, um, I ate dairy and you know I’m lactose intolerant and all that.” He got out of his seat awkwardly, your eyes never leaving him. It pained him to see you so worried. “Oof, I’m feeling it now. Gonna be a while.”

He held onto his stomach to make for a convincing act. 

“Okay. Feel better.”

He apologized to you and then ran out of the auditorium.

“Parker, you better be on your way,” Fury’s voice warned.

“I’m coming,” Peter huffed, looking at the backside of your head one last time before disappearing. 

Peter finished his mission by the time the play had already ended. He saw you were sitting at the front of the school on the steps, so he had to go through the back and exit as if he had come from the restrooms. 

“Whoo~! That was painful,” Peter said as he approached you, hand on his stomach and backpack on his back. He let out a sharp exhale and watched your expressions to see if you were buying it. “I really shouldn’t have eaten that ice cream… I’m sorry. I left you all alone.”

“It’s okay. Betty says hi by the way.”

“Oh. Hi.” He held his hand up and waved at you as if you were Betty. That earned a chuckle from you. “I really am sorry. What did I miss?”

He took the seat next to you on the steps. “Well, it’s safe to say you’ll never learn the real story of Cinderella. Or at least the Disney version.”

“Was it that bad?”

“The worst.” 

He nudged his shoulder against yours, flashing you a warm smile. “Are you mad at me?”

“A little. I waited outside the restrooms for you, but you took so long.”

“... It really hurt my bowels. The battle was rough.”

You rolled your eyes. “Uh huh. You know what, I’ll forgive you if you can answer one thing. What’s something pretty much all the Disney princesses have in common?”

Peter pouted his lips in confusion, searching his brain for a possible answer. “They’re… girls?”

“No… they all get kissed by the end of the movie.”

“O-Oh… Oh. Oh~,” he shot you a perplexed look. “Have you… ever been kissed?”

You nodded. “Yeah. By my ex-boyfriend.” Ah, right. Peter was not fond of him at all. “What about you?”

“Me? No…” he looked down at the cement. “Not yet.”

“Didn’t you and Liz date? You guys didn’t kiss?”

He shook his head. “No. And I’d probably messed it up anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well in the movies and stuff it’s always perfectly well executed.”

You scooted a bit closer to him so that your knees would touch. “That’s only in movies. Most people’s first kiss is awkward.”

“Was yours?”

“Yeah. But I’d like to think I’m way better at it now.”

That made Peter’s eyes widen, but he still kept his gaze glued to the ground. “I-Is that so?”

“I mean… Do you want to find out?”

He finally lifted his head up to look at you. You reached your hand over, caressing the side of his face and he leaned into your touch right away. Was this a dream? Because his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. Having his first kiss was one thing but having it with you? That’s all he ever wanted. 

“There’s no such thing as a perfectly executed first kiss. But I’d like to try to give you one if you want,” you said softly. 

“Y-Yeah… that’d be nice.” 

You smiled and leaned in closer, but Peter got too eager and pecked you on the lips first. He couldn’t help it. He’s been wanting to kiss you since forever. So yeah, it was sloppy and unplanned with zero technique. He honestly almost missed. You stared at him, too stunned to speak for a moment before your face twisted into frustration. 

“Peter!”

“What?”

“That's not how it was supposed to be! I was going to kiss you soft and sweet and slow and it was supposed to be romantic. You ruined it!”

“I’m pretty happy with it,” he said nervously. The look you gave him screamed murder. 

“Ugh. Well, that’s all you get. Your first kiss. Rushed and terrible.”

“I can live with that.”

You blushed for the first time that night and Peter had to stop himself from doing a backflip out of joy. 

[strniohoeee]

Hi love!! I need some heartbreaking angst pleaseee! Not exactly sure what for the plot but something super sad please 😭😭

Wonderwall

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N can’t fathom opening up to someone like Chris. A man who’s so head over heels for her. Once he gets her to let those walls down in her heart he knows she’ll be the one for him. But sometimes life gets in the way and things happen…♠️

Warnings⚠️: Mentions of drug abuse (slightly), talks of death, talks of injuries, mentions of smoking and drinking. This is also told in Chris’ POV.

Songs for imagine: Wonderwall- Oasis, All I Need To Hear- The 1975

Because maybe

You’re gonna be

The one that saves me

And after all

You’re my Wonderwall

Many nights I chased after you in the darkness of the night. Flying down empty streets and coming back home to empty sheets. Chasing a high I hadn’t been able to feel again in a long time.

I picked up terrible habits, drinking and smoking here and there. Sitting in the dark for days on end without moving. My eyes bore into the white wall ahead of me. I think I believed I was going crazy because I swear I could still hear and see you…even smell you.

Life felt beautiful with you, I truly felt happiness and fulfillment. Which if you told me at 18 I’d find my soulmate, I’m sure I would’ve laughed in your face. I never saw myself as the boyfriend or husband type, but when it came to you I simply couldn’t see myself as anything but.

When I tried to be with other girls, I always pushed them away because I knew that I didn’t want to be with them the way that they wanted me to be with them. But with you, it was almost the opposite. I knew almost immediately you were everything I wanted and more, and the fact that the tables had turned, and you were the one who kept pushing me away teared my heart a bit.

“I’m Chris” I stated as I reach my hand out to the girl putting the leash back on her dog

“I am so sorry, he never gets loose from his collar” She stated frantically standing up and dusting her hands off

“No worries, he's cute, what’s his name?” I asked her

Shaking my hand and smiling “his names Bones and I’m Y/N” she replied smiling a pearly white smile at me

Smiling back I began to pet the dog who couldn’t seem to stop jumping on me.

“Hi buddy” I stated giggling as he practically weighed me down

“We’re new to the neighborhood, so I guess he’s excited to meet new people” she stated fighting against the pull of Bones

“I’m happy to meet you too bones, where’d you guys move from?” I asked her

“Not too far we came from Salem” she replied

“Oh sick I love Salem” I responded back

“It’s so touristy now and crowded, kinda takes the fun out of it” she said giggling

“But you’re in Boston now” I said furrowing my brows

“Well yeah but in a quiet suburban neighborhood, Salem was just loud and busy always” she said patting Bones to sit down

“That’s true” I said nodding

“Well I have to go now, I’ll see you around” she said beginning to walk

“Yeah sure! If you need a tour guide I’m your guy” I said as she began to walk away

“If we ever cross paths again I’ll be sure to run it by you” she said laughing a bit

After that interaction I couldn’t seem to stop smiling. I mean the way the golden sun hit her face and the way her nose was red from the cold October air. I don’t know what I was feeling, but I do know that was the most I’ve ever spoken to a girl in the middle of the street at that.

And after that day we consistently ran into each other on the streets. It was only on our fifth interaction that we finally planned a day to hang out.

So when that day came around I was so eager to show her around my city. We went everywhere I could think of. Parks, museums, stores, bridges. I mean everywhere

“Have you always lived here?” She asked me as we were seated at a restaurant

“No actually for a while my brothers and I lived in LA. We actually just moved back a couple of months ago” I said

“Oh nice, what made you come back?” She said

“We love LA, but we’ve lived there for so many years and we missed Boston so we just figured to move back” I replied

“Aww I love that” she said smiling

“How about you? Born and raised in Massachusetts?” I asked her

“Yeah actually lived in Salem my whole life up until a few weeks ago” she stated as we began to enjoy our dinner

“Did you move here with family or solo, not to sound creepy” I said chuckling nervously

“Noo you’re good, I live with my grandparents and brother” she said nodding

“Oh nice, you have a brother” I said smiling

“Yeah, he’s the best older brother ever. He’s taught me so much” she stated

“I have another older brother, his name is Justin. And my other two brothers well were triplets” I said laughing

“Shut up that’s so freaking cool” she said shocked and giggling

“You’ll have to meet them soon, they’re the best and they’d love you” I said back

“Yeah that would be nice” she said

But the more we talked about family that night the more I noticed the way you got uncomfortable and danced around many sub topics.

I avoided anything that would make you uncomfortable, but I knew there was something there. And slowly I could see those walls being put up between us.

So we continued to hang out more and more, and I introduced her to my friends and family, and we all got along.

A few months into our friendship, I kind of decided I wanted something more and I was wondering if she had felt the same.

I tried to insinuate that I was interested in being more than friends, but then those same walls kept coming back up, and I could see the avoidance in your eyes.

“ Would you ever consider being more than friends?” I had bluntly asked

“ What do you mean by that?” She asked looking up at me

“ I mean, do you like me the same way I like you as more than just friends” I asked her

“ I don’t know”she said avoiding my gaze

“ how do you not know I feel like it’s a yes or no question” I said laughing

“ I mean, I don’t know that we’d work out as more than just friends” she replied fidgeting with her fingers

“ well why not I mean, we could give it a try” I said

“ because we just wouldn’t work” she said bluntly

“ But why not, why wouldn’t we work?” I asked her desperately

“ because you’d leave me if you knew more about me” she said saddened

“ I doubt that we’ve been friends for months now and I see a future with you” I said searching for her gaze

“ don’t say things you don’t mean” she snapped back

“ What's the issue? Why won’t you open up to me? Why are you avoiding me?” I asked her

“Because you wouldn’t want to date someone like me” she replied snapping her head up

“Yes I would, I’m sure of it” I responded growing tired of this argument

“Youd date me? A girl whose parents are drug addicts and chose getting high over their own kids? A girl who watched her parents drop her and her brother off at the age of 7 and 4 to their grandparents house. A girl who hasn’t seen her parents in 18 years. You wouldn’t date a girl who watched her older brother almost die. A girl who now takes care of her brother everyday since the age of 15…. I’m fucked up in the head and amazing people like you shouldn’t be tainted by the impurities of my life” she stated with pain and hurt laced in her voice

“I’m…I’m so sorry Y/N” I replied looking into her eyes

“I tried so hard to keep you away from me because my struggles and my life were meant for my eyes only and I couldn’t imagine dragging you into my fucked up world” she said as a few tears fell from her eyes

“ Listen I’m sorry that you’ve had such a fucked up life and that you watched your brother almost die, and now you take care of him because of his injuries, but that doesn’t make you less of the woman you are and I’m still in love with you and I still want to be with you. I will stand by you in everything. I will help you take care of your brother, that doesn’t matter to me.” I replied

“You’d what?” She asked sobbing

“I don’t care, okay! I will take care of you and your whole damn family, that's how much I want to be with you.” I stated pulling her in tightly

And after that night, I kept my promise. I took care of her and I took care of her brother and I took care of her grandparents and I loved it and I loved her and you would do anything for love.

And after her grandparents died two years into our relationship, the same walls came back up again. And she tried to push me away, but I wouldn’t let her. I continued to help her with her brother.

And when her brother got his girlfriend who was studying to be a nurse, she became even more of a help. And so she was able to open back up to me and let her walls down and let me love her and let me help her.

Even when Y/N and her brother's girlfriend were at work. I was right at his door every morning at 9am. Helping him start his day. Helping him bathe, helping him shave, getting him dressed and getting him fed.

“Are you going to marry my sister?” He had asked me on day

“Donnie, I’d love nothing more than to marry her” I stated

“Please do, you're everything right in her life. She needs you more than anything” he stated as I slid her sneaker on for him

“ as long as I have your blessing to marry her” I stated

“Of course you do, you’re the best person in both of our lives. I’m truly appreciative of all that you do for her and I.” He said nodding his head at me

“ I made a promise to your sister. I told her that no matter what I will always be there to help her and her family.” I said nodding at him

“Thank you man” he replied smiling at me

But who would’ve known our lives would change so rapidly? Donnie and his girlfriend had gotten married. And a while after Y/N and I turned 25 I was preparing to pop the question.

But you see when life starts to go so well something always happens. I believe sometimes you pay with your life when you finally find joy and happiness.

Bad things always happen to good people and it sucks.

I never would have imagined that at 25 my girlfriend of 3 1/2 years would be dead. Tragically taken from us. I actually don’t remember much of that night nor the months after it was all a dark gray haze, full of anger and sadness.

Most days if I wasn’t staring at my four walls or helping Donnie when his wife was at work I’d find myself in a drunken haze sitting in front of her tombstone. Waking up cold and hung over and extremely depressed.

Everyday I traveled with the wedding ring in the pocket of my pants. Right before she got into an accident with a drunk driver that instantly killed her I had purchased the ring. I had gotten Donnie's approval and my parents approval.

The box with the sparkling Diamond sat in my top dresser for a week before I felt like I had enough courage to ask her to be my wife. And many nights I stood up thinking what if I popped the question a week sooner would that have changed the trajectory of her life? Would she not have gotten in that car a week later would that person not have been drunk a week later? Or would she still have died but at least with the idea of me wanting her to be my wife?

I used to think I believed in fate, but I don’t think her death was fate. It’s truly saddening for a woman who said that her life was stained with the family curse from her birth to have died in such a sick way. So no, I don’t call that fate, I call that evil. I call it a curse.

She deserved nothing but health and happiness and a family to properly raise unlike what was done to her and her brother. But it was taken from her by a selfish piece of shit, no matter how much anger I felt when that court date rolled around, I froze on that stand when I gave my statement to the perpetrator. I was so numb and empty like a literal piece of my heart was taken for me. I couldn’t say anything to him. I couldn’t even look at him, but I knew I wanted him dead. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to feel like nothing inside like I did. I wanted to take all my pain times 100 and inject into him because he was not worthy of the death penalty, he was not worthy of the easy way out. He deserved to sit in an empty white room and stare at four walls and be haunted by what he did.

I honestly stopped seeing my family for a while, and my brother came and checked on me, but there was nothing I could say or do. I quite literally went crazy.

But after a year, I was able to stop drinking and smoking. I was able to pay a visit to her murderer in jail. I was able to forgive him for what he had done. I was able to continue to take care of her brother, like I promised her years ago. I was once again able to visit my family and my friends and actually enjoy myself. But most importantly I was able to go to her gravesite clear minded not under the influence of anything and I was able to talk to her. It was painful and I cried, but I needed her to know that I was here and that I wasn’t gone and I wasn’t going anywhere. I needed her to know that she is my wife. And that I will love her in every lifetime and that I’d carry that ring around till the day I die and that she is the love of my life.

A year and a half after her death

I was spending the day with Donnie as I usually did on my days off. We were eating lunch and celebrating Y/N’s birthday. She would’ve been 27.

“I miss her” Donnie said letting a tear fall as he blew out her candles

“Yeah I miss her too” I replied chocking back a few years

And that night we sat in front of the large window in their living room. Eating Y/N’s favorite cake

and bringing up memories of her. Laughing at all the embarrassing stories we were able to share.

And every year on her birthday we did the same thing!

And here I was 10 years later at 35, placing more roses at her gravesite. I tried dating here and there, but it felt wrong. She was the only woman for me and I couldn’t see myself with anyone else.

Donnie had passed away five years after Y/N from heartbreak leaving behind a widow and two kids. And even then, I still stood around like I promised over 10 years ago.

“Who’s this next to daddy?” Donnie’s son had asked his mom

“That’s daddy’s sister, Y/N” she replied adding some flowers too

“That was Chris’ wife” she then said to both of her kids

“You were married to daddy's sister?” They both asked me

“I was indeed” I replied squeezing the wedding ring in my hand

“She passed away 10 years ago, a few years before her brother” I said to them giving them a sympathetic look

“ well at least they’ll be in heaven together and we know they’re looking down at us” his daughter stated

“That’s very true” Donnie’s wife said

And that same tradition stood two Sundays a month. We all went down to the cemetery and put flowers for Donnie and Y/N. And I don’t think we’ll ever stop that tradition until the day I die.

To my Wonderwall, I miss you and I love you

-Chris

The End

Whewww chileeee this was ASSSS. Idk I thought I had a good idea in my mind, but I just feel like I couldn’t execute it properly and this took me days to write and I don’t even know why because it’s garbage. Love yall though and thanks for all the love and support.🥺🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[idkanythingbutiamtrying]

I Found You

Duskwood/Moonvale fanfiction

Even though mv had many disappointing factors I did like the story (especially the dw sidestory ending😅) and wanted to write my own version of how it could continue. This is probably not super realistic, just an idea I had. Also I never shared a fanfiction on here, so I wanna apologize in advance if it is not that great. 

SPOILERS FOR MOONVALE EPISODE 1

//gender-neutral MC 

„MC. I will find you“, flashed the message on the screen. MC could do nothing but stare at the screen in silent shock, every thought wiped from their brain. They watched the font glitch slightly and then disappear. Could it really be…? Was he really still alive? They had slowly lost hope that the possibility could still be real. Sure, they told Ash earlier that they still held out hope, but that was maybe more to convince themselves. But now, seeing this message…it must mean he was still alive, because what else could it mean? They felt tears welling up in their eyes, if because of relief or shock they could not tell. However they knew, this meant they still had to wait to find out more. And right about now, it seemed that wait might actually kill them. 

—-1 week later—-

They were just about to make themselves some coffee when their phone vibrated, signaling they received a new message. This could be anything, they reminded themselves to keep them from running to the phone. Maybe it’s not Jake. Maybe it’s the group. Maybe…but their thoughts stopped when they grabbed their phone to see a slightly glitching screen telling them they had a new message. With shaking fingers they pressed accept. A font flashed on their screen. Coordinates. A date. A time. They rushed to note it down and finished shortly before it vanished again and an all too familiar picture of a mask popped up. „I look forward to meeting you“, the screen now red. Then it glitched and went black again. Jake. Meeting Jake. Was all they could think, their heart beating so loud and fast they thought it might jump out of their chest. Then they had to sit down before their legs gave out on them. 

—- A few days later —-

They exited the train that had brought them to a small city, about one hour away from where they lived. They checked the maps application on their phone to see how far they still had to walk towards the location they received. Just a few hundred meters. They took a deep breath. Just a few hundred meters before they could see him. Then they started walking towards the location, trying to stop their circling thoughts. Thoughts circling around him. And between all those thoughts a tiny little voice that told them this could be a trap. They didn’t know for sure it was him who sent this message. It could have been everyone. But that was more than unlikely, they told that voice to hush it. It was bright day. What kind of trap would that be. Still the voice started to get louder as the forest at the edge of the city came closer. They took another deep breath. Almost there. Warily they looked around while walking. And then they saw it. A dark figure standing in a small street, leaning against the wall of a house. A dark hood and black hair. A dark mask covering the lower part of his face. MC stopped as their heart skipped a beat and their world stopped spinning. Then they noticed that he had started looking at them and took a step away from the wall he had leaned against. And then everything set into motion and they could just barely keep themselves from shouting out his name before running towards him. They embraced him as soon as they reached him and pressed their face into his hoodie. It took only a second before he in turn wrapped his arms around them. “MC”, he said quietly: “You came.”

They looked up at him, saw the glimmer in his eyes. They were dark and full of emotion. 

“Jake.”, they whispered, not able to say anything more for the moment. They saw tears building up in his eyes. 

“You kept your promise.”, they said, not able to keep the astonishment in their voice hidden. 

“I kept my promise.”, he assured them: “I did not get caught. And I found you.”

They felt tears in their eyes and hid their face in his dark hoodie again. 

“You should know, MC, that there is a reason I picked this town to meet you. Apart from the conditions needed to ensure us as much security as possible of course.”, he said and she could hear faint amusement in his voice. 

“What is it?”, they mumbled in return. 

“They have a Chinese restaurant here.”