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pellucid-constellations · 4 months ago

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Lessons in Care

Pairing: Line Cook!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel loves you so much. Even though you can't cook. You're trying though.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: A small injury

a/n: Consider this a small gift to make up for me disappearing for a month <3 This is part of the line cook au, but as I've mentioned, nothing is really in order so read however you want :) The rest of this AU can be found in my masterlist right there ⬇ love you <3

Main Masterlist ♡

“Like this?” You shook the pan a little harder, the handle's weight tweaking your wrist at an odd angle.

“Almost. Try not to hold your elbow so close to your body. It won’t flip right.”

You pressed your lips together and narrowed your eyes. “This is so hard.”

“I believe in you,” Azriel teased, an amused upturn of his eyes as he watched you struggle.

“Why is this pan so heavy? It’s literally like 40 pounds.”

“It’s cast iron, baby.”

“That’s stupid.”

Azriel barked out a laugh, red tinting his cheeks as if he hadn’t expected the sound to leave his lips. Your mouth quirked up in a small smile despite your struggle. You shot your gaze to the side to try and catch the sweet expression that still lingered on Azriel’s face.

“Would you like me to do it?” Azriel posed after clearing his throat.

“Of course not. I came early so you could teach me.”

“I could teach you another time. You have class soon.”

“Why do you want me to fail?”

“I don’t—”

“You totally do. You want me unable to cook for myself so I’ll always have to rely on you, and then I’ll never be able to leave you.”

Azriel laughed again, a quiet, rumbling sound. “You caught me. Now hand that over before you hurt yourself.”

You groaned and turned slightly to evade your boyfriend’s reach. “Az, I’m serious. Teach me how to flip these stupid eggs right now.”

“Okay, okay. Just let me help.”

The feel of Azriel’s hand lightly sliding over yours startled you. You jumped and your fingers twitched, the sudden motion sending the tips of your fingers too far forward until a simmering pain shot through your skin. You flung the pan back on the burner instantly, its contents splattering along the stove and into the open flame. It burned a bright orange and then settled as you held your hand close to your chest.

You hissed a breath through your teeth and Azriel’s hands were on you.

“Shit, baby, let me see, yeah?” he stressed, mindlessly turning the burner off without taking his eyes off you. He tugged your hand at your chest with gentle fingers. “Let me see.”

You released the tight grip on your fingers and rested them in Azriel’s open palm. “I was just surprised. I don’t think it’s that bad.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed as he examined your burn. He tsked, pulling you gently by your wrist over to the sink. “It’s going to blister.”

Cool water rushed from the pipes and soothed your skin. Azriel held your wrist in a soft grip and turned your hand slowly, back and forth in a repetitive motion.

“I don’t think so, Az. It’s not that bad.”

Azriel shook his head. “That pan was pretty hot—I’d be surprised if it didn’t.” He looked up at you. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You offered a gentle smile and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You didn’t scare me.” You raised your brow playfully. “You just made me nervous. A cute guy like you holding my hand—reaching over to help me to cook. Made me all jumpy.”

Azriel breathed out a disbelieving scoff. “I’ve done far worse than just hold your hand.”

“Scandalous!” you proclaimed, affronted. “How can you say such things at work, Azriel? You’ll be fired.”

“I can only hope,” Azriel grumbled.

Azriel directed you to keep your hand under the water as he dug through a cabinet for the first-aid kit despite your protests. You truly felt that you were fine and didn’t even need a bandaid, but it was easy to forget the multitude of scars that littered Azriel’s hands and how they contrasted with your completely unmarred skin.

That was purposeful, meaningful—Azriel worked hard so you wouldn't have to. Azriel found peace in keeping you safe and happy.

So you let him fuss.

“Okay, let me see again, baby,” Azriel requested, flipping the water off and reaching for your hand. Your skin stung as it met the air beyond the sink, but Azriel’s caring touch was like a balm.

He dried your fingers with a towel and uncapped a spray bottle, coating your burn with too much of the medication before grabbing a set of gauze and tape. You stared at the materials in exasperation. Azriel didn’t notice the expression and continued to admisinister care as if you’d been in a fire.

“Az, I love you so much, but I don’t need all of that. It’s a small burn. I’ve probably done worse with my curling iron.”

Your boyfriend only hummed and continued his work. “I don’t want it to scar. It blistered already.”

“Yes, but—”

“Almost done.”

You let him work. A few moments of silence passed. Azriel kept his gaze hard and his brow set in a harsh line.

That wouldn’t do.

Once your finger was fully wrapped and protected from everything Azriel could fear, you puckered your lips in contemplation and shook your head.

“Still hurts really bad,” you admitted, leaning back against the counter. Azriel followed your movements, leaving little space between you.

“What?” he questioned, a tinge of panic in his tone. “That should’ve numbed it. How bad does it hurt?”

“Really, really bad. Like my whole hand is on fire, actually.”

Azriel—who had yet to release your fingers—stared down at them in startled befuddlement. He turned them one way and then another as if that would answer his questioning gaze, and then looked back up to meet your eyes in a way that was almost pleading.

“I’m sorry, maybe I should—”

“You have to kiss it,” you revealed, not wanting the sad expression to linger on his face any longer. “Duh.”

Azriel let out a breath that bordered on relief, but most of it seemed founded in exasperation. He shook his head and brought your fingers up to his lips all the same, smiling to himself as he began to kiss each of your fingertips. Even the ones that clearly weren’t burnt. He flipped your hand over and kissed the knuckles, too, capturing your eyes as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes.

“‘M sorry you got hurt,” he mumbled with his lips against the back of your hand. “Told you you shouldn’t try cooking, baby.”

The warm feeling that had begun to seep into your chest paled in comparison to the offended scoff that echoed in the empty kitchen. Azriel’s poorly concealed, devious smile was hidden in the kisses he started pressing into your palm, and although it would have fit the sound you let out, you didn’t pull away.

“Azriel, you are just asking for me to—”

“The hell is going on in here?” The kitchen door smacked against the frame as Cassian made his entrance. “Someone get hurt?”

Azriel dropped your hand just as soon as Cassian had spotted him pressed against you, clearing his throat and turning to the disheveled first-aid kit on the counter. You brought your knuckles up to your mouth to hide your laugh at Azriel’s expense, his face flushing in vulnerability.

“Oh, I see what was going on. You were romancing your girl, weren’t you, Az? Well, don’t let me interrupt. You came in early and everything,” Cassian teased, his hands raised in surrender.

“We were just finishing up,” you countered, a laugh trickling through. “I have to get to class, Cass. You can start your shift.”

“Uh huh,” Cassian smiled, raising his brows and then lowering them when he caught your hand reaching for your backpack. “You okay?”

“She’s fine,” Azriel interrupted. He took your bag from you and slung it over his shoulder, pressing a nonchalant kiss to your head that you knew was actually not nonchalant. “I’m going to take her to school. Cover for me for 20?”

“Sure, man.”

“Az, I was going to take the bus you don’t have to—”

“C’mon, baby.”

“But I don’t even have my helmet for your bike.”

“I always bring your helmet.”

#azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar #azriel fanfic #modern au #line cook az

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penvisions · 29 days ago

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underbelly {gone to the dogs} - a holiday special

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: You and Joel have an understanding, a new thing between you both. Where once biting words were exchanged and annoyance flared, now there's this simmering thing that slowly takes hold. And who is Joel Miller if not a giving man at his core, determined to do right by the people he lets into his pack?

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: canon typical language, outbreak fic, age gap (about 15 years), sub! joel miller, dom / sub dynamics, sexual content, rough sex, p in v, smut, unprotected p in v (it's the end of the world, y'all), oral (m and f receiving), sappy gift giving, holiday fic, some good ole pwp (well a little bc it's me lol)

Fic Notes: set at the beginning of their relationship, so between chapters five and six, i believe

A/N: hello, my loves! this is an apology of sorts for joel's behavior in the most recent chapter of the main series 😅felt like i needed to even the playing field a bit hehe. happy holidays and hope the days are good to y'all!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The table in front of you is an organized mess. From the small baggies of pills and powder, to the piles of hand rolled cigarettes and joints separated in plastic bins, there are four more full of medicine and vitamins that aren’t offered at the infirmary. This is most of the current stock you have, save for a bin that contains five to ten baggies of each drug and pill you offer safely secured underneath the loose panel of wood that acts as one of the many patch ups to the walls of your apartment, this one in your bedroom right beside the bathroom door.

You’ve got a beaten up notebook open as you’re looping out names and exchanges owed. A tally of who you traded with the past two weeks and what they asked for in the next two. There’s a lot to organize and you take an afternoon each week to keep it all neatly transcribed. The small bottle of ink you have is beside the little stamp you’ve kept well hidden from anyone else. Not wanting it to fall into the wrong hands and end up being used on product that is certainly not yours or up to your standards.

Tess had just gotten up from the couch, her resting spot for a moment after work. An inner jacket pocket full of baggies she was about to go and deliver to the tenants of the building next door. Just as you’re about to get up and stretch your legs, the front door opens after a jingling of keys and the lock turning.

Joel.

He’s back late for the day, but you don’t mind getting the random hours to spend with him. You do a lap or two around the table before you set a pot of water up on the stove to boil in an attempt at a late lunch. There are a few cans of potatoes you found last week and you wanted to try and make something soft and hot- mashed potatoes.

Snow dusts the top of his shoulders as you watch him carefully lock the door behind himself, his thick fingers sliding the deadbolt and side latch locks. It’s all in his hair too, darkening the locks by contrast, though you can see the gray beginning to thread itself between the strands. Without a word, Joel is turning and something flies out of his grip and towards you across the room.

You catch it, though the hit of the hard thing is cushioned by a swath of thick paper around it and a twine bow tied to keep it closed.

“Joel, what the hell?” But he doesn’t respond, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair you had been in before disappearing into the bedroom. His boots clunk with the heavy steps he takes, the pain in his back and hips worse today without him needing to tell you. Sighing, you set the electric burner to the lowest setting and sit back at the table.

The little wrapped item gets set to the side, not forgotten but saved for later.

“Why didn’t you open it?”

“It’s just more of the same. Wanted to catalogue everything I already have before adding more to the roster,” You swoop the pencil in your hand over the expanse of the table, it was clear what was going on, wasn’t it? Why did he have to pick arguments with you even now, you’ve shared your apartment and bed with him for nearly a year. But sometimes you still feel like you didn’t know all of him and while you had resigned yourself to that very likely reality, you would take what he could offer you. What he was willing and wanting to offer you, because when you did- the tension in his shoulders eased just a bit, that scowl he wears so well lessens just a bit, his dark eyes lighten enough to let you glimpse at the person you assume he used to be.

“Darlin��, it ain’t none of that.” When you tilt your head to the side, much like an entranced dog, you can see the way his adam’s apple bobs, his next words the softest you’ve ever hear from him. In both sentiment and tone, aside from the night everything shifted. “It’s a gift for you. For the holiday.”

“Joel…” The confusion leaks out of you, replaced by a warmth in your chest. It’s been…god, it’s been years since anyone got you anything for the holidays. And here he is, all brooding and big and violent, giving you a piece of himself you hadn’t previously seen. His eyes are heavy on you as the paper crinkles, the twine unravels.

Atop the notebook, nestled in the ‘gift wrap’ is a little wooden figure. A dog. A cane corso dog.

A physical depiction of the very thing that lended you the nickname you’ve taken on in stride. Adapted in your endeavor to provide things for the people that the remnants of government forces refused to or asked for too much in exchange for. You were always giving, sacrificing, scrounging, never taking anything for yourself unless absolutely necessary. But this? This was something just for you, something made just for you but the looks of it. The scrapes and a blade obvious in the carving.

The gasp that leaves you does nothing to help the rapid flutter of your heart.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, sharp eyes watching the way water droplets cling to your skin as you emerge from your shower. The door was wide open, the space heater Joel had found among the rubble now fixed and set between the bedroom and bathroom threshold. A lame attempt at bringing some warmness to where you both curled up at night.

The cold was getting to him, his body aching. Not just sore, but aching in the way that begins to spur thoughts of old age in his mind. He’s not that old, he doesn’t think. But he is a hell of a lot older than you and he sees it in the way you perk up at the sight of snow softly falling from the sky. In the way you offer to run to the commissary or the food hall for everyone when there’s just no energy for standing at the stove or tinkering with something that’s been broken one too many times.

Your eyes are on him as you approach but he doesn’t feel like he used to when they pinned him down in a challenge. Now he feels rooted to the spot, waiting to see what you would do with anticipation rather than anger at being challenged. He no longer feels like you’re heeling him, like he’s nothing but dirt and grime underneath the tread of your boots, flesh that was torn apart and stuck between your teeth.

No. Now he feels like he’s been granted a fresh breath of air straight from your lungs.

And he’s reveling in it. He can’t help out but reach with itching fingers, trailing over the silk of your damp skin. The hitch in your breath he can fucking hear is driving him wild, the way you freely walk around like this when before it was all growls and threats if he even so much as managed a glimpse of what you look like underneath your threadbare clothing. Of the real you that hides behind the harsh persona and attitude you’ve taken on as a shell against the world.

He sees it now, as you let him trail his fingers up to the crooks of your elbows and tug you between his legs. His lips press to your skin, a groan escaping from his chest despite the pull in his shoulder muscles at the action.

The shift of the dynamic was sudden, brought on by seeing you in a new element. One where he was able to glimpse the person you used to be. And it had made his heart both stutter and ache. If you had crossed paths before the end of the world, you would’ve thrown him for a loop, stuck in his head until he carved out time to do something about it. But as the universe played it’s hand, he’s still crossed paths with you. That’s good enough for him, despite the biting words you used to mean as you berated him and bossed him around- shoved the barrel of a gun in his face and demanded what the hell he thought he was doing trying to edge in on the smuggling scene here in this zone like he owned the place.

Because he didn’t then, and he still doesn’t now. No, that’s you.

And he’s now the muscle in it, determined to do right by the situation. It feels good to step down, to follow the orders he gets from you or from you by Tess’s mouth. To just be a piece in the game he had been heading for far too long in far too many places and scenarios. It was nice to just turn off his brain and listen.

He feels much the same way now as he watches with a quick thrumming of his heart and blood rushing to his cock as you move to kneel behind him on the bed still in only your thin towel. Hands gently kneed into his aching muscles, and he leans into the touch. It was a good thing, he thinks, to have taken the time to carve that figure for you. A gift. A frivolous thing he wanted to give to you in the midst of chaos and too cold weather, the half-smile it brought to your face worth the effort of a new hobby he had dared to try.

When prodding fingers find a particular hard knot between his neck and shoulder blade, the moan he lets out pinches his face up in pain.

“Lemme get the menthol stuff, it’ll help.”

He watches as you strut across the room and disappear into the kitchen, towel now gone and all your skin on display. He feels the swell of his cock harden in his jeans and presses a palm to relieve some of the ache there too.

He’s always been the one to lead, to take charge but he’s thinking more and more that you like being that way. And his mind blanks as you stand in front of him with hardened nipples and a jar of homemade lotion that smells far too strong to handle at the moment.

When you upcap it, he reaches out to stop you. The puzzled look that has the hint of annoyance behind it has him rolling his lips, words stuck in his throat. As the silence drags on, you must see the way that his eyes are darkened by arousal and contemplation. But you don’t move until he manages to unstick the words from where they’re lodged.

“Just…not right now. Your hands are good enough, we can save it for another time, yeah?”

Without a word, you’re twisting the cap back on the jar and then pushing a small hand to the center of his chest.

“Then lay back.”

“What for?” He raises a thick brow at the command, ready to dispel whatever hesitation that lingers in his body.

“Gonna take care of you. You gonna let me?”

All he can muster up is a nod before he listens and does exactly what you ask of him. He lets go of everything, every thought and you take the reigns from his hands. The clink of his belt is loud, breaking the drone of the heater working in the corner and the sound of his zipper as him closing his eyes tightly.

“You gifted me something and now let me do the same. Just lemme take the lead, turn that brain off for a moment, yeah?”

Joel sighs out a ‘yes’ as he lifts his hip at the tap of your palms there, allowing you to peel the jeans and boxers from his legs. Goosebumps crop up at the cooler temperature, the heat of his hardened cock bobs against his stomach. He’s never been this way before. Not with you and barely with Tess, physical and sexual interactions always on his terms, on his conditions. Giving into you know feels right, he trusts you. Even as he feels the nip of sharp teeth on his neck before a warm tongue sooths it over.

“You can be such a good boy sometimes.” And the praise falling from your lips in a confident tone should irk him, but it does nothing but cause him to jerk below the waist and clench his teeth together as he feels it wash over him. It’s genuine, not teasing. He should know, because he’s normally the one praising you in such a manner. It’s a nice moment, he realizes, letting you take the lead. Allowing himself to fall into your commands in a less than serious way. In a more serious way. This is everything.

His chest heaves as you move down his body, the denim shirt he’s wearing unbuttoned as you go, lips trailing over coarse chest hair, the trail that moves down down down…

The feeling of him in your mouth is a heady sensation, it’s lighting up your body in hot sparkles that almost vibrate in intensity. The salty, musky taste of him on your tongue is one you would never tire of, even if he seldom lets you indulge him this way.

Down to his core, he’s a giver. He’s someone who gives himself to those around him and that’s obvious even in the bedroom. He always pleasures you, with his plush, delectable lips. His thick fingers and wide hands, the edge of his strong nose. The heft and feel of his cock something you crave just as much as he seems to be willing to sink into your pulsing heat at any chance he could get. It wasn’t just about fucking. Hell, it wasn’t even just about being fucked by him- it was something more. A man whose walls were built so high, bricks unsettling and gaps forming as you both share daily responsibilities and nightly routines. You were bonded.

But right now? He’s given himself wholly over to you.

His lips form a hard line as you nose along the leading head of his cock, flushed a pretty dusky pink, the exact same shade. But you can’t fight the frown that threatens to take over your own as you press your them to the slit to gather the pearlescent drop there, tongue peeking out to taste it.

“Lemme hear you, Joel.” That paired with the hungry way you swallow him down has him surging up with a strangled expletive followed by your name. After that, he hardly has any trouble letting loose deep groans and guttural growls as you take him back into your mouth and hollow your cheeks. His hips lift as you take him as deep as you can, leaking head nudging the back of your throat in the most delicious way.

It's dangerous, how powerful you feel right now. With Joel Miller loose limbed and compliant beneath you, surrendering to whatever you deem he deserves.

But nothing compares to the grip his hands form on your hips and the frantic look in his eyes as you straddle his thick thighs and sink down on him until your bottom is flush with them. Panting, you grind slowly, reveling in the feel of him deep and stretching you to make room for him to nestle. He’s hitting that sweet spot only he can reach and starts burst in the corners of your vision as you meet his gaze.

He’s never looked for open and recked, eyes blown own, breath puffing out in harsh pants, lips glistening from where you swear drool shines over them…

Tracing the bounce of your chest as you continue to grind against him, pleasure swathing you both in a tingling that crawls over every inch of skin. You clench around him, pulling a tortured sound from him as he fights off the feeling of bucking up into you. The shaking of his legs makes you feel pride spark low in your belly just as a flash of heat does.

“Hold on tight, I’m gonna take a ride.”

His head knocks back harshly onto the bed when you lift up and slam back down, eyes fluttering shut as all he does is hold on tight to your hips and lets you take care of him.

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itacats · 2 months ago

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Butcher Shop Connection

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: DV, abuse, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: The truth finally comes to light and Simon’s protective instincts kick into overdrive. His fury, tempered by the desire to help, contrasts sharply with the polished, insincere concern Tom displays when he arrives at the hospital. Though Simon’s emotions boil beneath the surface, he holds back…for now. Alone at the bar later, Simon wrestles with his frustration, plotting a way to help you escape from Tom’s grip without rushing into a dangerous confrontation.

A/N: Cue the heavy emotions. This chapter pulls no punches: it’s raw, painful, and brimming with emotional tension. Simon’s transformation from concerned friend to protective warrior is starting to take shape, and it’s hard not to feel for him as he struggles to do the right thing without putting you at further risk. As for Tom? He’s a smooth talker, but Simon isn’t going to let him off easy. Get ready for more intensity ahead. 🥊

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 5 - The Breaking Point

"Who did this to you?"

Your throat feels tight, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. You turn your head, unable to meet his gaze. "It’s... it’s nothing," you whisper, but even you don’t believe the words.

"Don’t lie to me," Simon says, his voice firm but not unkind. He’s kneeling closer now, his hand brushing lightly against yours. "Please. Tell me who hurt you."

Tears well up in your eyes as you try to speak, but the words catch in your throat. You’re too scared, too ashamed. And yet, there’s something in Simon’s expression—an unwavering determination—that makes you feel safer than you have in years.

“It was Tom,” you finally admit, your voice trembling. “My husband.”

Simon’s expression darkens, the storm in his eyes now a raging tempest. He takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching as he tries to steady himself. “He’s the reason you...?” He gestures toward the bruises, his voice trailing off.

You nod silently, your tears spilling over. “Please don’t do anything,” you beg. “It’ll only make things worse.”

Simon’s fists clench at his sides, his knuckles turning white. He wants to fight, to fix this, but he knows you’re right. Charging headfirst into this could backfire. He takes another breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "Alright," he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "But you can’t keep going back to him. You deserve better than this."

Before you can respond, the dizziness hits you again, and your vision begins to blur. Simon’s voice becomes distant, calling your name as your body starts to give out. He catches you before you hit the floor, cradling you against him.

"That’s it," he murmurs, his tone resolute. "You’re going to the hospital. I don’t care what he thinks. I’m not letting this go."

Simon carries you out of the shop, his movements quick but careful. The world around you feels like a blur, but his presence anchors you. As he helps you into his car and buckles you in, his hands linger for a moment on yours.

“Stay with me,” he says softly, his voice a lifeline. And even as darkness tugs at the edges of your consciousness, you hold onto that small piece of hope—Simon’s unwavering determination to protect you.The hospital room smells sterile, the faint scent of disinfectant lingering in the air. The hum of monitors fills the silence as Simon stands near your bed, his body taut with restrained fury. His question lingers in the air like a thundercloud, charged and heavy.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were married?” His voice is softer now, laced with a bewildered pain.

“It wasn’t relevant at the time,” you reply, tears burning the corners of your eyes. Memories of your laughter with Simon, of moments that felt so light and easy, now feel stained by the weight of this truth.

Simon’s jaw tightens, his fists curling briefly before he releases them. His eyes soften, but there’s a fire behind them that won’t be extinguished. “You don’t have to stay with him,” he says, his voice low but earnest. "If you need a way out, you don’t even have to ask. My door’s open to you. Always."

His words seep into the cracks Tom left in you, offering a glimmer of hope. But before you can find the courage to respond, the door swings open with a force that sends the moment scattering.

Tom strides in, his polished shoes clicking against the tile floor, his face painted with concern that feels more rehearsed than real. "Sweetheart, I just heard you were here. I came as fast as I could!" His voice oozes charm, but it scrapes against your nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Simon steps back, his entire body rigid as he watches Tom approach. The air shifts, thick with tension. Tom barely acknowledges Simon beyond a cursory, insincere nod. "Thanks for your help, pal," Tom says smoothly, his tone dripping with practiced gratitude. "I’ll take it from here."

You shrink under Tom’s gaze as he turns his attention to you, his smile tightening like a snare. "Let’s get you going home, alright?" he coos, his hand brushing your arm in a way that feels more like a warning than affection.

Simon’s hands curl into fists at his sides. Every muscle in his body screams to act, to stop Tom, to protect you. But he knows—one wrong move here, one sign of defiance, and Tom might make things worse for you. So, he swallows his rage and stays rooted in place, his eyes burning holes into Tom’s back as he escorts you out.

Later that night, Simon sits at the corner of a dimly lit bar, a pint of beer clutched in his hand. Around him, the raucous laughter of coworkers and the hum of chatter feel distant, muted. He barely hears the words of encouragement or the half-hearted jokes tossed his way. His thoughts are locked on you—your bruises, the fear in your eyes, the way you shrank under Tom’s presence.

He downs another drink, the bitterness of the alcohol mirroring the frustration churning inside him. He vents to his coworkers, his voice low but taut with emotion. "I can’t just stand by and let this happen. They don't deserve this. No one does."

One of them claps him on the back, offering platitudes about patience and planning. But Simon barely hears them. Every instinct in him is screaming to act now, to confront Tom, to tear you away from the man who’s hurt you. Yet, deep down, he knows rushing in without a plan could make things worse—for both of you.

As the hours drag on and the bar clears out, Simon sits alone, his pint glass empty and his resolve solidifying. He doesn’t know exactly how yet, but he’s going to get you out of this. He’s going to protect you, even if it means facing demons from his own past—memories of fights and confrontations he thought he’d left behind.

One thought loops in his mind as he steps out into the cool night air: Tom may think he’s won, but he hasn’t met someone like me yet.

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

#bt extra #call of duty #fanfic #cod fic #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #gn reader #butcher shop connection #simon ghost riley x reader #butcher!ghost #butcher!simon

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avonnimimi · 20 days ago

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Plugged

The Series. Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

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a/n: Finally getting somewhereeee, here’s part 3 yall @hcneymooners @wannabe-fic-reader I hope you enjoy! Remember, some things may be written in my native english dialect, if you don’t understand, comment and i’ll translate. MEN AND MINORS DNI

content: drug dealer! Vi x Black fem readers, weed, smoking, intoxication, cursing, clit rubbing (r!receiving) choking, hair pulling, dom!vi, orgasm denial? lmk if i missed anything!

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Vi didn’t take you home that night. You didn’t ask why. She pulled up to a sleek, modern apartment complex, way out of your usual league, and didn’t say a word. Just got out, opened your door, and scooped you into her arms like it was nothing.

“I can walk, Violet,” you muttered, half-hearted, pressing your hands against her chest.

“If I wanted you to walk, you’d be walking,” she shot back, voice low and firm. Her grip didn’t falter. She carried you to the elevator, setting you down only to press the button for the top floor.

When the doors opened, she led you down a quiet hallway to the sixth apartment. The second she unlocked the door, her scent hit you, warm, musky, like the kind of comfort you didn’t realize you craved. The place wasn’t spotless, but it wasn’t messy either. It was lived-in. A little chaotic, a little home.

She tugged you to the couch in the dimly lit living room, leaving only the kitchen light on. The glow softened the edges of everything, but it couldn’t soften the tension hanging heavy in the air. You sat; she sank down beside you, knees spread wide, her posture loose but guarded.

“What did you say to Tevonn?” you asked, voice quiet, searching her face. Her hand dragged down her jaw, a nervous tick.

“I reminded him he owes me six bands. Told him if he tried to bullshit me, I’d fuck him up.”

You snorted, dry and humorless. “I doubt you said it like that. You probably made it sound worse. He was apologizing.”

She shifted, legs stretching wider, her body language all deflection. But her jaw tightened, and there was something behind her eyes she didn’t let you see.

“What did you mean,” you started, hesitant, “when you said you were gonna teach Donte another lesson?” His name tasted bitter, like poison in your mouth. Like shame. You still couldn’t believe he’d tried to sell you off, like you were nothing, because he’d been fucking someone else.

Vi chuckled, a low, dangerous sound, but there was no humor in it. “Couple years ago, Donte was with my little sister.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

Her gaze turned sharp, focused. “He did some fuck shit. Put his hands on her.”

You stared at her, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and horror.

“So I beat the fuck out of him. But she didn’t like that. Stayed with him. Took care of him.” Her voice was steady, but there was a storm brewing underneath. “Then Donte snitched. Told the cops about my business. That’s how I got locked up.”

Your mind reeled, the pieces falling together too fast, too heavy. You reached out, resting your hand on her shoulder. You didn’t know what to say. Before you could figure it out, she pulled you into her lap, her hands steadying you as you straddled her.

Her fingers brushed the bruise on your cheek, the one Donte left behind. Her touch was gentle, reverent. “It’s bruising,” she said quietly, her voice soft in contrast to the hardness in her eyes.

You turned your face away, shame burning in your chest. Tears welled up before you could stop them, and when they spilled, they came fast and hot, your body shaking under the weight of it all.

“Hey, hey,” Vi whispered, her hands cupping your face. Her thumbs wiped the tears as they fell, and she kissed each one away, her lips soft against your wet skin. Then she kissed the bruise, so tender it broke something in you.

You tried to speak, but your lips trembled. Vi caught it with her thumb, her touch light despite the tension in her shoulders. “Let’s smoke,” she said, her lips curving into a small, teasing smile. Normally, you’d have said no. But tonight wasn’t normal. And Vi wasn’t just anyone.

You followed her to the balcony. She rolled the joint right there, the night air cool against your skin. You watched her, mesmerized; the way her hands moved, precise and confident, the flick of her lighter, the curl of her lips as she sealed the paper. It was hypnotic. It was hot. You felt the heat pooling low in your stomach, spreading between your legs.

She handed you the spliff, and you took it without a word, inhaling deep. The smoke filled your lungs, thick and warm, pulling you out of your head. Vi rolled another for herself, letting you keep the first. By the time you were done, your body was humming, higher than you’d been in a long time. Donte’s cheap shit didn’t hold a candle to this.

Back inside, you stumbled toward the bathroom. Vi’s voice followed you. “Room’s to the left.” You didn’t answer, too focused on scrubbing the makeup off your face, washing away the night. In the bathroom, you found fresh towels and let yourself borrow them, along with a pair of her boxers and a t-shirt from her drawer.

You crawled into her bed, the sheets soft and cool against your skin. Sleep was already pulling at you when Vi walked in. “Damn, precious, made yourself at home,” she teased, her voice low and lazy. You ignored her, sinking deeper into the mattress, the high still buzzing in your veins.

She slid in beside you, her shirt gone. Your eyes caught on the tattoos covering her back, black ink curling over her muscles like a story written in another language. You stared, the sight of her stealing your breath.

“Keep looking at me like that, and we’re gonna have a problem,” she murmured, her voice rough at the edges.

You didn’t think. You just moved. Crawled on top of her, straddling her hips. Her smirk was quick, her hands finding your waist like they belonged there.

“Don’t do something you’re gonna regret, precious,” she warned, her voice low and gravelly, but her hands betrayed her, grinding your hips against hers. The friction sent a shiver through you, a shaky sigh slipping past your lips.

“You don’t even know me,” you whispered, your voice small, “but you keep taking care of me. Why?”

Her hands stilled. Her gaze caught yours, steady and unflinching. “When I like something, I take care of it.”

Something inside you broke open. You leaned in, crashing your lips against hers. Vi met you halfway, her mouth hot and demanding, her tongue tangling with yours like she’d been waiting for this. For you.

When you pulled back, breathless, she caught your face in her hands. “You sure about this?” she asked, her voice softer now, her thumb brushing along your cheek. “I know you ain’t a cheater.”

“Donte ain’t my man,” you whispered, raw and honest, the words thick in your throat. “Not anymore.”

Her lips curved into a wicked smile. “Then yeah, baby. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You crushed your lips back to hers, desperate now. Her hands gripped your hips tighter, grounding you, guiding you as you grind down against her. The friction sent sparks shooting through your body, the waistband of her pants dragging perfectly against your clit.

“mmh fuck…” you moaned, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Your head fell to her shoulder, your hips moving instinctively, chasing the pressure, chasing the high.

Vi’s hands stilled your movements, her grip firm but careful. “Don’t do something you’re gonna regret, precious,” she murmured, her voice low and husky, but there was an edge of restraint there. “You’re high. You’re hurt. Ain’t how I want this to go.”

You froze for a moment, your lip trembling, the shame coiling tight in your chest. She was right, but you needed her, so badly. “Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You don’t get it. I need this. I need you.”

She stared at you, her jaw tight, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Her thumbs rubbed slow, deliberate circles into your hips, grounding you again. “You ain’t gotta beg me, mama,” she finally said, her voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. “But you’re gonna listen to me.”

Her hands flexed, gripping you tighter. “You cum when I say. Not before. You understand?”

You nodded, a shaky, needy sound escaping your lips. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” The words hit you like a bolt of lightning, heat flooding through you. She leaned back, her eyes dark and hungry, her smirk sharp enough to cut. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Keep grinding. Show me how bad you want it.”

You hesitated for only a second before you moved again, rolling your hips against hers. The friction was maddening, just enough to push you close, but not enough to tip you over. You whined, your hands gripping her shoulders, your movements growing more desperate.

Vi chuckled, low and throaty, her hands guiding your rhythm. “Yeah, there you go. Good girl. Keep going. Don’t stop.”

“Vi…” you whimpered, your voice breaking. “I—I need more…”

She tilted her head, her smirk widening. “You think you’ve earned more?” she teased, her tone mocking, but her hands were steady, holding you in place. “Nah. Keep going. You’re not done yet.”

You let out a frustrated whimper, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The tension in your belly coiled tighter and tighter, your body trembling with the effort. You were so close, so fucking close, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t—

Suddenly, her hand snaked up to your throat, her fingers curling around it, firm but not tight. She pulled you closer, your foreheads almost touching. “Look at me,” she ordered, her voice sharp, commanding. Your eyes snapped to hers, wide and desperate. “You cum when I tell you too. Understand?”

You nodded quickly, a breathless “Yes,” tumbling from your lips.

Her hand slipped into the waistband of her boxers, your borrowed ones, her fingers sliding through your slick folds like she already knew every inch of you. The first touch to your clit made you jerk, a sharp gasp escaping your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” she muttered, her voice thick with desire. Her fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, teasing you, building you up until you were shaking. Vi swore she was loosing her mind, finally being able to touch and feel and on your creamy pussy. “That feel good, pretty girl? That what you needed?”

“Yes,” you choked out, your hips rocking against her hand, chasing the high. “Please, Vi, please…”

She grinned, all teeth. “Not yet,” she said, her tone wicked. Her fingers slowed, keeping you teetering on the edge, the tension in your body unbearable. “You wait until I say.”

You let out a broken sob, your head falling to her shoulder, your body trembling. “Vi, I can’t—I can’t hold it…”

“Yeah, you can,” she murmured, her free hand sliding up to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back so she could see your face. “You’re gonna hold it for me, mama. You’re gonna be good for me.”

You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, your whole body trembling with the effort to hold yourself back. And then, finally, mercifully, she leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear. “Now,” she whispered, her voice soft but commanding. “Cum for me.”

The words shattered you. Your body seized, the orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave. You cried out, your hips bucking against her hand as she kept working you through it, her fingers relentless, her voice low and soothing in your ear.

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s my girl. Let it all out,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your temple. “Good fucking girl.”

When it was over, you collapsed against her, your body trembling, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close, her lips pressing soft kisses to your hair.

“Go to sleep, precious,” she whispered, her voice warm, steady, grounding. “I’ll take you home in the morning.”

You didn’t answer. You just let yourself sink into her, her warmth, her scent, her presence. And for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

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this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2024

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traveler-at-heart · 6 months ago

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Brave

Summary: The sudden loss of someone in your family leaves you broken. Natasha tries to help.

A/N: Special thanks to @happychopshoppenguin for helping me to sort out ideas for this plot.

It was a regular day for the Avengers.

Mission, explosions, fighting some bad guys and then fly back in the Quinjet.

“Fury’s gonna be mad” Clint taunts, looking at you.

“He didn’t say how to stop them from sharing the drive with the Chinese” you smile, thinking that blowing up their entire control room was a bit much. But, you were in a hurry to finish the mission and go home.

Clint rolls his eyes and steers the Quinjet.

“Alright, it’s gonna be at least seven hours. Go get some sleep, dynamite. Tasha, you ok?”

Natasha had been quiet, which was nothing new around you. To most people, it was probably the contrast in personalities; while the Russian was reserved, you were very outgoing.

You’d hope it was just that, and not that she disliked you. After a few attempts at conversation that turned cold, you decided to be cordial, but give her space.

Right now, she’s sitting in the back of the Quinjet, no visible injuries. But still, her hand is over her ribs, and she seems to be deep in thought.

You know what’s happening and that she’d never ask for help.

“Do you need to clean any wounds? I’ll take over the Quinjet while you do” you offer to Clint and he shakes his head no. Walking to the first aid kit, you pull out a bottle of water, painkillers and a pack of ice. You’re about to walk to sit next to Natasha, when you bring a hand to your forehead.

“Great. Blood and sooth. I must stink” placing the first aid stuff next to her, you mumble to yourself about taking a quick shower.

By the time you come out, Natasha has already taken a pill, and has the ice pack over her bruised ribs. Her eyes are closed, and much as you’d like to stare, you go sit next to Clint, hoping to get home soon.

—

Maria is waiting on the hangar when you land.

“Told ya” Clint mocks and you turn to glare at him.

“Did you snitch on me, Barton?”

“Y/N” Maria says, and her tone alone erases your smile.

“What’s wrong?” you say, going over every possible scenario. This is your last mission before a two week break to go back home. “Is it…?”

Your mom was supposed to have surgery. But she was fine. It couldn’t be…

“I’m sorry”

It’s as if a bucket of ice cold water was poured over your head. Your hands are so numb, you can’t feel Natasha taking one of them, her arm around your shoulders.

—

It’s been a week. Natasha tries not to think about you, mainly because there’s nothing she can do to help.

And it’s none of her business when (or if) you come back. Still, she feels a certain heaviness in her movements as she makes her morning coffee.

You always made enough for the two of you. And it tastes so much better than the one Natasha makes.

“Is Y/N around?” Maria walks in, looking for you.

“I thought she was still with her family”

“She came back earlier. It didn’t… it sounded bad. Like a family disagreement had happened on top of everything else” Maria sighs.

“Do you know what it was?”

“All I know is that her mother’s condition had been bad for a while… and then they did emergency surgery but her heart was too weak”

Natasha nods in silence, imagining how hard it must be for you. How your mother always sent something she knitted for everyone on the team on their birthdays, or how your parents would fly to visit at least once a month.

“If you see her, will you let me know? I just want to make sure she’s alright”

“Of course”

—

No one saw you, not even for movie night. It’s not like the team was expecting you, but it was quiet as the movie played on the screen, and only Sam seemed to be paying attention.

Natasha looks at the table in the middle of the room.

You always got her Dr. Pepper. Her guilty pleasure, a little indulgence in her life of strict physical activity and healthy meals.

This time, there’s only beer that no one bothers to drink. A headache threatens to sour her mood even more, but the cupboard with medical supplies is almost empty.

That’s how everything feels without you around.

Natasha had hoped you’d be at the staff meeting next Monday, but everyone took a seat, your chair remained empty.

“We have to do something” Steve says, looking around. His eyes meet Maria’s.

“Well, she’s been going on solo missions”

“And you think that’s a good idea?” Barton challenges, clearly annoyed. Would it be so hard for Fury to give a damn about his team?

“Listen, any one of you is welcomed to join her but I don’t think…”

“I’ll go” Natasha says.

“Good. Maybe she needs some… girl talk” Steve says and everyone laughs for the first time in weeks.

“Yes, we’ll braid our hair while we wait for the bad guys, Steve” Natasha mocks.

“Nice one, Capsicle” Tony says.

Truth be told, Natasha wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction when you saw her at the hangar.

“I’m on solo duty, Natasha” you say without looking at her, getting inside the small aircraft.

“Fury’s orders” the redhead lies, following you. She almost crashes against your back as you stop and turn around.

“If you’re coming, I don’t want to hear any scolding or complains. I’m running this operation”

“That’s fine by me”

Either way, from what she read on the file, it was only information extraction. And yet, you were gone for thirty minutes, after she successfully hacked into the database.

“Where the hell have you been?” Natasha scolds, forgetting about her previous promise.

“Can you get us on the air? I’ll take over in a minute” you answer, your face evidently beaten up, as one of your eyes was starting to swell.

Natasha is torn between concern and anger, but she figures it is better to talk to you once they’re away from the enemy. With a sigh, she starts the engine and sets the coordinates of the Compound.

A spot on the floor catches her eye.

Blood. A lot of it.

“Y/N?” she stands up, looking around. Following the trail of blood, she opens up the door to the small bathroom. She sees you, your uniform torn around your thigh, a gash exposed. “Oh my God!”

“Ever tried knocking?” you say, without looking at her. Next thing you do is use the surgical stapler to close the wound, not caring to use anesthesia.

“You need stitches”

“I’m fine” you stand up, taking off the top of your uniform. Natasha spots bruises that are just starting to heal.

Maybe that’s why the medical supplies were gone the other day.

“Y/N…”

“If you’re not gonna fly, I’m taking over” you walk towards the cabin, and she stands there, looking at all the blood that you left behind.

What the hell is she gonna tell Maria when you come back?

There’s a moment of silence as you land the Quinjet. You hope that Natasha will not even start about your injury, so you wait for her to leave.

“Y/N?”

“I’m fine, Natasha”

“I’m worried” she admits in a low voice, which catches you off guard. You’ve never thought she cared enough, not about you at least.

“I’ll stop going on missions until I’m better”

She wants to tell you it’s not enough, because an injury isn’t the issue here. But Natasha also recognizes when she’s about to cross a boundary.

So, she just nods and leaves the hangar. The feeling of defeat comes with her as you’re left alone on the jet.

—

Another Monday, another staff meeting.

To everyone’s surprise, you’re the last through the door. Steve sits up, but the rest of the team just looks at you, afraid that saying anything else might scare you away.

For your part, you ignore everyone but Natasha, placing a paper bag from her favorite bakery in front of her.

She smiles at you, because it’s something you always do on Monday meetings. This time, you don’t mutter your usual excuse of being around the bakery first thing in the morning. You do give a little smile in return, and Natasha tries to ignore the warm feeling she gets from the gesture.

“Everyone, have a seat” Maria says, trying to pretend she isn’t surprised to see you as well. “We have word of a HYDRA base storing potentially dangerous technology. It’s big enough to send the whole team”

“Surely some of us could stay behind if we’re not up for it” Barton says, avoiding your eyes. He’s the only one that knows about what happened on your mission with Natasha.

“It’s not ideal, but if anyone wants out, speak now. Very well”, she continues after a beat of silence. “Here’s the map of the facility. You leave in an hour”

—

The mission was completed.

Barely.

You’re holding a gauze against your side, to stop the bleeding from a bullet graze. Fury’s been called to go over what happened.

He doesn’t seem pleased.

“You better do something about her” Tony says, his finger pointing at you.

“Stark” Barton warns but you don’t even react to his confrontation.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. If she wants to go and get killed, that’s her deal. But we were just about done with the mission when she decides to fight a dozen HYDRA agents on her own”

“We need to calm down” Steve says.

“No, there was a town a few miles south and HYDRA had nuclear warheads. Have we learned nothing? This could have been catastrophic”

“But it wasn’t, so…”

“If you have some mommy issues to deal with, do it on your free time. I’m not gonna burden myself with civilian deaths over your trauma”

“Tony!” Steve reprimands, standing up. They’re so busy facing each other, they never see you approaching. You throw a punch that hits Stark square in the eye, followed by another one that breaks his nose.

“Say that again, you fucking asshole” you shout, throwing a kick that never lands. It takes Steve and Bucky to hold you back. “Talk shit, Stark, see what happens”

“That’s enough. You’re suspended, effective immediately” Fury says.

“I’ll do you one better. I quit” you push Rogers and Bucky away, not bothering to look at the rest of your teammates.

It’s better this way.

—

It’s not hard to find you. Being a professional spy works in Natasha’s favor, but you’re basically bouncing from your apartment to the bar around the corner.

Sit and drink.

That’s all you do from the moment you walk in, around noon and then you leave past midnight. Before going up your apartment, you stop by the bodega to get another bottle of whatever cheap booze they have and call it a night.

Natasha looks from across the street, debating between going inside and talking to you or just going home.

What can she tell you to make it all better?

That’s the question she asks herself all week, and come Friday Natasha still doesn’t have an answer.

The bar is crowded and the redhead figures it’s safe enough to go inside without being spotted.

You’re in your usual spot, leaning against the bar while sitting on a stool. The loud music and conversations make you dizzy, but you still ask for another scotch and drink half of it in one gulp.

“Are you moving anytime soon?” a twenty something year old pops out of nowhere and you don’t even look his way. “We want to sit at the bar and watch the game, I’m sure you can go be a sad drunk somewhere else”

“Fuck off” you say after finishing your drink and asking for another one. When they give it to you, the idiot knocks it from your hand.

“You have ten seconds to apologize or leave” you rub your temples, thinking how much worse your headache will be after kicking his ass.

“I don’t think so” he says, throwing a punch at you. Even with all you drank, you’re able to avoid his fist, knocking him down in one swift motion.

“Crap” you kinda forgot he was not alone. Three more guys show up, and while you’re busy blocking some kicks, one of them manages to punch you in the face. You fall to the ground, feeling a kick to your side and a fist that connects with your nose.

At this point, you give up, thinking that getting your ass kicked in a bar is just as effective as drinking the day away.

But the next attack never comes. In fact, all three men are down.

“Get up” you hear someone say.

It sounds like Natasha.

You try to stand, but there’s a pain in your side. Before you can collapse on the ground, arms go around your waist and help you stand, walking side by side all the way to your apartment.

The lavender scent and the gentle touch confirms it’s Natasha, and you try not to think about how much you’ve missed her.

The redhead opens the door to your apartment, letting you down on the couch. You grunt as you sit, blood running down your nose and temple.

Yeah, this is going to be the worst hangover of your life.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” Natasha says looking around the place.

You really did miss her and the thought finally breaks you.

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” Natasha kneels in front of you the minute you let out a sob, tears mixing with the blood.

“It’s not worth it, Nat. I’m not worth the trouble. You should go” you plead, overwhelmed at the guilt that’s been consuming you for weeks now.

“What are you talking about?”

“She kept asking for me. When they were at the hospital. She wanted to see me, she was scared and in pain and I wasn’t there. My mother died and I didn’t get to say goodbye”

“Y/N…”

“What kind of person does that? How can you fail so badly to the people that loved you?”

“You didn’t fail”

“Yes, I did” you say, struggling to breathe.

“You didn’t. It’s ok” Natasha tries to calm you, her hands going through your hair until your breathing evens out.

The rush of adrenaline leaves your body, and pretty soon, you’re slumped against the couch, Natasha’s hands still in yours.

—

There’s light. And pain.

A different kind than the one you’ve had. As you sit up, you feel your bruised ribs and when you grimace, the split lip reminds you your face didn’t fare any better during your fight.

Natasha…

“How are you feeling?” you turn to find the woman standing in the middle of your kitchen.

“Like shit” you reply and she chuckles.

“There’s some coffee. It’s not as good as the one you make, but it will do. I should go” she sets her cup down, sighing.

“You don’t have to…” you want her to stay. But you don’t know what will happen if you ask her.

“I do, actually” she walks towards the door, but you endure the pain to meet her at the threshold.

“Nat”

“No” she shakes her head, without looking back at you. “You have no idea how hard it is to watch someone you love hurt themselves”

The word love echoes, making you take a step back.

Natasha turns to look at you, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“I guess you were bound to find out eventually”

“Natasha” you plead, not knowing what to say.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I won’t go into this when you’re going through hell and all i’ve done is watch you from afar. I guess I just want you to know…” she wipes the tears and looks at you. “You buy my favorite brand of peanut butter. You wake up one hour before I do, but the coffee is done only when I’m up. My water bottle is always full and cold before going to the gym. You charge my phone when I forget to, and when it’s late and I’m still working you stop by and tell me you made too much pasta just so I eat something…. You’re not a bad person. You’re wonderful and I wish I could have told you sooner. I’m sorry” Natasha turns around and leaves.

You don’t stop her this time.

—

It’s been three days and Natasha hasn’t heard from you. To be fair, she said a lot of things and didn’t wait for you to reply, so that might have been a bad idea.

Talking to Clint might be the only solution and she’s looking for him when you leave the conference room, followed by Maria and Steve.

Tony approaches you from the other side and Natasha waits around the corner.

“I’m sorry about what I said” Stark says and you nod.

“Fair enough. Not sorry about punching you, though”

“Fair enough” he repeats, smiling.

When they all leave, you turn back, your eyes meeting Natasha’s.

“Hi” you approach her, hands inside your pockets.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sober”

“That’s good”

“Mhm” you nod, holding her stare. Your eyes travel to her lips and you sigh. “Can we talk?”

“We don’t have to…”

“I wanna show you something. It won’t take long, I promise. What do you say?” you offer your hand and she stares at it for a second.

When Natasha nods and takes it, you hold her tight, leading her out of the Compound.

—

“She loved Central Park” you remember, walking around the benches, Natasha’s hand still in yours. “The whole city, really”

“She liked it because you live here, I think” Natasha says and you nod.

“Well, that and the pizza”

“Right” the redhead nods. You find a bench and lead her to it, pointing at the plaque.

Love is only for the brave, followed by your mother’s name.

“Is something she said often. Figured it might be nice to have it here, for people to read and gather courage”

“That’s a beautiful way to remember her” Natasha nods, aware that you’re moving closer.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you what I thought back at my place, Nat”

“You don’t need to explain anything” she interrupts, giving you a way out.

“I didn’t think you liked me that much. And I absolutely thought I was being more discreet about my feelings for you”

“It’s hard for me to think that love makes you brave… or strong” Natasha says, taking a step forward so you’re inches apart.

“I know. Please let me show you?”

“I think I’d like that” she nods, leaning forward until your lips meet in a short kiss.

When you break apart, you remember that time your mother visited. How she insisted Natasha looked at you in a special way.

“What’s so funny?” Natasha asks against your lips when you smile.

“I love you” you say and she pulls you closer.

Everything will be ok, as long as you have each other.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you

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tsumuus · 5 months ago

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sometimes the person you fall for isn’t ready to catch you

The weight of your feelings for Shoto Todoroki had always been a silent burden, one you carried with careful deliberation. You’d known him for years, watched him grow from the reserved, conflicted teen in UA into the poised and powerful Pro Hero he was today. Through it all, your friendship remained constant, a steady foundation you both relied on, even when the world around you was chaotic.

But somewhere along the way, things changed. Your heart started to race when he was near, your thoughts lingered on his gentle, thoughtful words, and the space between you felt charged with something unspoken. You weren’t sure when admiration turned into affection or when that affection grew into something deeper, but you were sure of one thing- you had fallen for Shoto Todoroki.

And it was terrifying.

The feelings you harbored were a fragile thing, a delicate balance of hope and fear. You didn’t want to lose what you had with him, the bond you’d nurtured for so long. But the more time you spent with him, the more your heart ached with the need to tell him, to lay it all bare and hope against hope that he might feel the same.

But Shoto Todoroki wasn’t known for catching people. He wasn’t known for diving into emotions or revealing the deep inner workings of his heart. He was quiet, reserved, and careful with his affections. And you were afraid that if you confessed, you’d be left in that silence, caught in the cold of his uncertainty if he didn’t feel the same.

It was late one evening when you found yourself sitting beside him on the rooftop of his agency, the city lights glittering below like a sea of stars. Shoto had always liked it up here, the quiet that contrasted with the chaos of his daily life. It was one of the rare moments when you saw him at ease, his usual composed expression softened into something more contemplative.

“You’re quiet,” he remarked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His voice was calm, but there was a subtle concern in it that only someone who knew him well would notice.

You forced a smile, trying to push away the thoughts that had been plaguing you all night. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” he asked, turning his gaze fully on you, the intensity of his mismatched eyes making it even harder to breathe.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. The words were on the tip of your tongue, desperate to escape, but they clung there, weighed down by the fear of what could come next.

“I… I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” you began, your voice shaky despite your efforts to keep it steady. You could feel his eyes on you, his focus unwavering, and it made the confession that much harder. “It’s just… I’ve been feeling this way for a while, and I don’t think I can keep it to myself anymore.”

Shoto’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes- surprise, maybe, or concern. “What are you trying to say?”

You swallowed hard, the words finally spilling out in a rush before you could stop yourself. “I like you, Shoto. More than just a friend. I’ve liked you for a long time now, and I just… I needed to tell you.”

Silence. The air between you seemed to freeze, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest that you could barely hear anything else. Shoto’s expression remained calm, almost too calm, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to find the right response.

“yn, I…”

Your heart sank at the hesitation in his voice, at the way he seemed to struggle with his words. Shoto wasn’t one to speak his emotions easily, and you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was trying to find the right words, the right way to let you down gently.

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally admitted, his voice soft but heavy with the weight of his uncertainty. “I care about you, yn. You’re important to me, more than you know. But… I’m not sure if I can return those feelings. Not in the way you deserve.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You had known, deep down, that this was a possibility, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. It didn’t stop the ache that spread through you, the hollow feeling of rejection that gnawed at your heart.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, though it was anything but. “I understand.”

Shoto’s eyes softened, and there was a deep sadness in them, a regret that he couldn’t express more clearly. He reached out, his hand hovering just above yours before he pulled back, as if unsure whether he had the right to cross that line.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice laced with a sorrow that made your chest tighten. “You mean a lot to me, yn. But I’m still trying to figure things out. I don’t want to rush into something and end up hurting you more in the end.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I appreciate that, Shoto. I do. I just… I just needed to tell you.”

Shoto’s gaze remained on you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions you couldn’t fully decipher. “Please don’t distance yourself,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “I don’t want to lose what we have.”

You offered him a small, sad smile, trying to push away the tears that threatened to fall. “I’m not going anywhere, Shoto. I promise.”

But as you sat there beside him, the space between you feeling wider than ever, you couldn’t help but wonder if that promise was one you could keep. Because while you were willing to wait, to be patient, you weren’t sure how long you could bear the weight of unrequited feelings, how long you could keep pretending that everything was okay when it wasn’t.

Sometimes, the person you fall for isn’t ready to catch you. And as much as it hurt, you knew that Shoto Todoroki wasn’t ready to catch you. Not yet.

masterlist

a/n i have to wake up in less than 5 hours bc i have senior sunrise, and instead of going to sleep as soon as i finished my hw i sat down and wrote this🤗 yw ig<3333 or not bc this is angsty lol i will make up for it soon

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neptuneiris · 1 year ago

Text

could you pretend to be in love? (02/10)

The Contract

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: there is no turning back now and now you and Aemond set the rules and conditions to start the whole farce.

word count: 4.6k

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HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!🥳

I thought this would be a very nice way to wish happy new year to all of you beautiful people who support me and like what I write, you don't know how much that means to me🥺

thank you for so much support and for so much love, I have loved being here and I definitely plan to stay for longer, seeing how that love evolves and my place here as a writer🥰 so enjoy a lot this new chapter that I really hope you like it a lot❤

many blessings to all of you, my best wishes for your lives in this 2024, I love you all so much!😊❤

enjoy!

It's the first thing you see after turning off the alarm and you curiously enter to read the recent messages from an unknown number, not having the slightest idea of who it might be.

But you let out a long sigh of frustration when you read them and see that it's Aemond, who you don't understand how the fuck he got your number. Of course, it shouldn't have been hard for him, just a few questions and anyone can tell him what he wants to know.

And knowing that you have a long day ahead of you today, you already feel the pressure all over your body when you haven't even left your bed, where you also feel the frustration and all this uncertainty that you thought you had already overcome, but no.

You barely accepted yesterday and suddenly putting the plan into action from one day to the next, it's too much. But without really having a choice, you reluctantly force yourself to get up and start getting ready.

After an hour, you leave your house with the nagging feeling of carrying a weight on your shoulders to school. And all the way there, not even the music in your ears can make your mind calm down for a moment.

Knowing very soon that your whole social life will be a mess and you will no longer be invisible, since after all Aemond was right in that respect, causes you even more uneasiness and also nervousness because you are going to pretend to be the girlfriend of the most popular guy in school.

And once the bus makes its stop, you soon enter the halls of the bustling school. And knowing that a certain silver-haired guy is waiting for you right now, every heavy step you take towards the schoolyard echoes loudly in your ears, increasing your nervousness and anxiety.

You're even tempted to back up and tell him to forget it, but you resist and keep moving forward.

As you walk through the huge doors of the backyard, it's only a matter of time before you make out the figure of Aemond sitting at the same table as yesterday in the distance. Your heart skips a beat and you feel more nervous, but gathering your courage and taking a long breath, you advance towards him, ready but with uncertain steps.

Every step seems heavy, as if you are walking into the unknown and you try to hide the nerves in your gaze, especially when Aemond notices your presence. He watches you and slowly turns to you, a subtle smile on his lips.

Again there is that feeling of telling him to forget it, to find someone else, that you can't do this. But... your mind stops you and screams at you not to be silly, that at the end of it all there will be a reward, a very good reward that getting it by faking a relationship with him, is nothing.

And it's definitely worth it.

So resigned, you reach out to him.

"Hey," he says to you without wiping off his little smile, as you take a seat in front of him and he waits for you to finish settling in, "So you've come."

"Don't bother me," you tell him without humor, definitely contrasting his mood to yours.

"Now what did I do?"

"That," you point to his face, "You're enjoying this, seeing that I haven't backed out."

"Oh, please, I actually thought you wouldn't come and tell me to fuck off after you thought better of it," he justifies himself.

"Yeah? Well, nothing a free admission to your dream college won't do," you say with a slightly sarcastic tone, though implicitly admitting your reasons, "And it's actually not like I like skipping classes, so could we get this started?"

Aemond exhales long, averting his gaze from yours for a moment before returning to watching you.

"You know you'll have to be charming and act like you're completely in love with me in public, right?" he poses, expectantly.

"Yes, I know... in public," you point out to him, "Just now no one knows we're 'dating' genius," you add, underlining the falsity of the situation.

He places a small, amused, smirk on his lips.

"Yet."

He adds with a slightly defiant tone and you roll your eyes.

"Don't get too excited either."

"Are you not?"

"Oh yeah, I can't handle the excitement," you feign in a high-pitched, ironic voice, making exaggerated hand gestures.

Aemond lets out a short but genuine laugh at your gesture. He leans back slightly, his eye revealing a mischievous glint as he watches you.

"Glad to see you're keeping your sense of humor in this," he says with his tone changing slightly to a more relaxed one.

"I don't have much choice, do I?" you reply, accepting his change of mood, but still maintaining a certain emotional distance.

You figure it's just a matter of the two of you getting more into trust, and if you're going to do this with him, you're definitely going to do your part. But for now, this is still a little awkward and unexpected. And the sooner you do this, the better it will be for you.

So you shift your focus and lean forward slightly with a more serious expression on your face.

"So let's get started?"

"Well, making a contract will take up a lot of our time, so I thought it would be easier to just say and agree between us-

"It will be easier this way, to write down and establish the rules and the conditions we want to do during all this, just to have everything clear and not miss anything, Aemond," you interrupt him, taking out a notebook and a pen to start writing.

"Okay, fine," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"So?" you watch him expectantly with the blank sheet of paper in front of you and your pen in hand, "What do you suggest first?"

"Well... first we need to know when this will all end," he begins to say, adopting a relaxed but firm stance, "And I would say that it may end when it is no longer necessary for both of you to continue pretending. But I think it's a better idea for us to last until graduation."

He proposes, looking at you intently, waiting for your reaction and you can't help but be a little surprised to hear that.

"Until graduation?" you repeat and he nods, "But you really want to do this for almost five months?"

"I know it's a long time, but that time can be beneficial for both of us," he explains, "That's enough time to give our relationship credibility and authenticity and it's also enough time to handle any problems that arise."

He says and you nod cautiously, evaluating his words.

"But if you disagree, tell me," he hurries to say.

His calm tone and your reasons contrast with the uncertainty and indecision you feel. And the two of you have barely started.

Five months is such a compromising situation and it generates some concern, because you know you will face so many things you still have no idea about and every day it could become more complicated to maintain the farce.

"I guess it's okay," you cautiously admit, trying to see the big picture, "But I feel like it's still a long time. But also reducing that time might not be enough," you agree.

"Yes but I'm sure we can handle it. And don't worry, if at some point we feel it's too much or we don't have enough reason to keep pretending anymore, we can talk iand end it."

You remain pondering, considering his words and after a few seconds you nod in agreement, and write it down as the first point on the sheet. But this alone is the first piece of a much more complicated puzzle.

1. Duration of relationship: Until graduation.

And Aemond also brings up the next point of the contract, expressing his ideas with quiet but evident assurance.

"Now, second..." he begins, "As for behavior in public, we should genuinely show affection in the hallways, cafeteria, and at any school activity and event. In a relationship people don't take their hands off each other, so we should smile at each other, hug each other, make subtle gestures, hold hands-

"Don't say kissing, please," you interrupt him, pleading, taking him by surprise.

"Of course, Y/N," he tells you instantly, incredulous, "Obviously we'll have to kiss."

As if having to act completely in love with him and be every moment touching him isn't enough. But the idea of kissing seems a bit much to you.

"I agree about showing affection and all that, but that kissing thing might be awkward and... weird," you say, trying to be sincere but not seeming completely closed off to the idea.

Aemond looks at you incredulously.

"So you don't want us to kiss?"

"I don't think it's necessary, honestly."

"Are you crazy? How are we supposed to pretend if we're not going to kiss? No one's going to believe us if we don't kiss and that's what will literally make the whole relationship believable," he insists, visibly concerned.

"Yeah, I get that it might seem necessary, but...at least I don't want to be having to kiss you every single time."

"You don't want to kiss me?" he asks you, visibly surprised, confused and... maybe a little hurt?

You watch him silently for a moment not understanding his reaction and then watch him with a small amused smile.

"I'm not one of your fans, Targaryen."

"Oh come on, everyone wants to kiss me," he says confused and incredulous, proving his point.

"Even the guys?"

"Well... yeah, I don't know, maybe some of them," he says with a shrug.

"Seven Hells," you mutter, averting your gaze for a moment, "I-I really don't want to do that," you say, speaking seriously and then you let out a sigh, "But you're right that no one's going to believe us-

"Obviously. I always have," he is quick to say.

"So my proposal is this... we'll kiss, yes, but only when it's extremely necessary, and when I say extremely necessary I mean extremely necessary."

You watch him intently, keeping yourself willing with your proposal, waiting for his opinion, which judging by his face, he doesn't quite agree with.

"And what would those extremely necessary moments be exactly?" he inquires, attentive and interested, also still looking slightly worried.

"In the cafeteria or in the hallways when everyone is obviously looking at us and we're attracting attention. Just don't abuse it."

Aemond lets out a long breath.

"Well, let's limit them to extremely necessary moments," he finally says resignedly and you quickly note the second point.

2. Behavior in public: Show affection as genuinely as possible in public, such as gestures, hugs, and holding hands. KISSING ONLY WHEN EXTREMELY NECESSARY.

"But then that second point is also going to apply to the parties you'll be going to with me and my lacrosse games you'll be going to."

You quickly raise your gaze to him.

"What?"

"Yes," he nods, "Going to the parties together will also lend credibility to the relationship and obviously we have to be very close to each other. And it's the same in my games, you must go to support and encourage me, like any girlfriend in love with her boyfriend would."

Aemond's words provoke an instant reaction in you, that confusing you and taking you by surprise.

"But I don't go to parties."

"Now you will," he says with a calm expression, reaching out his hand and taking the pen and your notebook.

"But-

He is already writing in a section further down the sheet which he lists as; 'additional conditions'.

Parties.

Lacrosse games.

"Aemond, I'm not a big fan of parties, really," you insist, "You'll have a bad time if you take me with you and I'll probably ruin everything."

"Don't worry, I'll teach you the trick to having a good time and change that mentality you have. Besides I won't take you to every party, just a few," he assures you, "All while keeping up appearances," he hands you back your notebook and pen, "With me you'll never get bored, I promise," he says with a small smile on his lips.

You let out a sigh, placing the notebook back in front of you, still undecided.

"Yes? Well, we'll see about that. I warned you though."

He lets out a soft little laugh.

"Come on Y/N, you can't be that bad."

"I assure you I can be."

"And so what do you do for fun?" he asks you, keeping his smile, curiosity evident in his gaze.

And there it is, the question that totally describes your personality and that in fact you don't like to answer to just anyone, because then they call you boring. But you can't lie to Aemond, he is astute enough and would notice.

So you decide to be honest.

"I like to read," you reply, lowering your gaze and feeling slightly embarrassed, "And I love going to the movies or watching movies and shows at home, either one is totally fine with me. Oh... and... hm... I also like ice skating, although I don't do that as often but... it's something I like too."

And even though it's only a bit of the world of things you like, Aemond listens to you attentively with a soft expression, saying nothing afterwards, as if he's processing every word you've said, while you only feel more embarrassed by the silence.

You know there's nothing wrong with it but it always made you insecure to share your hobbies, mostly because you know that many girls your age enjoy their teenage years going out with friends to parties and getting drunk.

That didn't and doesn't appeal to you now. You have long been more comfortable with the idea of staying home or going out somewhere else instead of going to parties.

It's not as if you don't attend or avoid every social event, yes you can attend and have a good time depending on who you are with and where, but not as often as every weekend.

However, you understand and recognize the logic behind Aemond's suggestion and that is that attending parties, is essential. And just as he is about to finally speak, you do so first.

"I know they are simple things and are not very exciting for most people. I also know they can be very boring but for me... that's what I like," you shyly confess.

"Hm," he says, taking a small moment, watching you softly, only causing you even more embarrassment, "Well, that's not what I was going to say," he says, catching your attention, "Sometimes it is the simple things that mean the most to everyone and, being honest... I find them interesting," he adds, trying to evaporate any awkwardness and embarrassment you might feel.

You raise your gaze, meeting his bright blue eye watching you softly and with his gaze full of genuine understanding, along with that hint of curiosity. And that gets your attention too.

He's not judging you. And even though it's not something he would do or at least hasn't tried to do yet, he's not judging you for it and you see that genuine interest in his gaze.

"Tell you what, for every party you go to with me, I'll read one of your favorite books or a movie or shows you want me to watch," he says, picking up the notebook and pen again.

"What?" you look at him confused, unable to help but smile in bewilderment, "Are you serious?"

"You must set your own conditions too," he states as he writes, "I already dragged you into my world, so now you're dragging me into yours," he looks up at you, "What do you think? Is it a fair exchange or not?"

His proposal takes you by surprise and also confuses you a little, however, the small smile remains on your face.

The genuine expression of openness on his face and the determination with which he wrote definitely makes you feel more comfortable. His willingness to immerse himself in your interests was not something you had agreed upon from the beginning, nor is it something extremely necessary to fake a relationship.

But it's for the simple reason that you both feel comfortable if you're going to pretend for almost five months and it seems like a nice gesture from him to include it, something you honestly didn't expect from him.

And when he gives you back your notebook, you see the new rule under 'additional conditions'.

For every party Y/N goes to with me, I will read a book or watch one of her favorite movies or shows.

"Yes," you nod, "Sounds like a fair deal to me."

Aemond smiles, pleased with your answer and also seeing the expression on your face.

"Great. We'll see if I discover something new I like. And you too..." he points at you with his index finger, "You won't regret it after you have a great time at my parties," he says enthusiastically, with a sort of complicity in his tone.

"Well, we'll see if you manage to impress me."

And right there, the two of you exchange complicit glances, Aemond having that little smile on his lips while you don't understand this strange new alliance the two of you are building.

But even though you didn't expect it, it's definitely to your liking.

"Now, third..." you point to the notebook with your pen, "Reinforcing the second rule, public appearance," you say, observing him, "We must act as a committed and attentive couple to each other at school and to these parties you want us to go to."

Aemond nods determinedly, thoughtfully.

"Yes, commitment at all times," he states seriously.

"So, that also means that neither of us can be with other people for the duration of all this, not even secretly," you add, making the point clear.

"And you want to write that as a rule too? It's obvious that neither of us should-

"I'll write it as the fourth rule, just to be clear about everything as I told you."

"Oh, fine."

3. Public appearance: Act like a real couple in love, be committed and attentive to each other at school and social events.

4. No involvement with other girls/guys: No casual encounters or texting with anyone else for the duration of the fake relationship.

"Oh and also..." says Aemond, reminding, "Since we're at that point, on additional conditions write that we should both upload photos and videos together on our social media. It's another way to lend credibility to our relationship."

"Photos and videos together on our social media," you repeat, looking at the notebook.

And this catches Aemond's attention.

"Don't tell me you don't use your social media," he says beginning to sound alert and concerned.

"No, no, I-I mean, yes," you hasten to say, "It's just... I don't know, I most likely don't use them as often as you do, besided I have very few followers."

"Don't worry, whatever followers you have are fine. Besides, I'm sure they'll increase when I upload my first photo with you."

You roll your eyes with an amused smile.

"Okay, Mr. Popularity."

"And speaking of that, hand me your Instagram and all your networks," he says instantly, grabbing his cell phone from his front pocket, "We better have that all figured out now."

Obviously Aemond's accounts had to be public while you maintain your privacy, with barely thirteen hundred followers while he has almost the entire school following him and probably from other schools as well.

In fact, your numbers compared to his are embarrassing. But you never really had the interest of having more followers on Instagram or more friends on Facebook, Snapchat is the same and apparently that doesn't matter to Aemond.

Upload photos and videos together to our social media.

"And well, I also think another very important thing is to maintain privacy," you suggest, lifting your gaze to watch him and Aemond gives you a confused look.

"Do you really want to write that down too? It's obvious we can't tell anyone-

"Let me enjoy this, Aemond. It's actually fun and I want to write it all down. So act serious," you ask.

He lets out a choked laugh.

"Well, yes, we must be discreet, no one must know that all this is false, only we know the truth and we must keep it that way," he says and you excitedly write it down.

"We mustn't involve our families in this either," you add, watching him intently, "But that will be difficult because your siblings are here," you grimace.

"We can keep up the farse with them for a while too, I'll convince them not to say anything to my mother or the rest of my family. And once everyone here at school is convinced enough, I'll tell the truth only to them," he say sure and confident, solving the problem.

"And you're sure you'll manage to keep them that way?"

"Yeah," he says with a shrug, "They're my siblings. I know how it works with each one."

5. Maintain privacy: Tell absolutely no one about the fake relationship or involve each other's families in it.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot..." Aemond says as he points to what is already written, "You must also go on each year's trip to Dragonstone with me. That's another additional condition of mine."

"What?" you inquire again, surprised and confused.

"Yes, the trip to Dragonstone," he affirms.

Oh God, the trip to Dragonstone.

Dragonstone is an island not far from King's Landing, where there is an ancient castle with a lot of history but has been modernized with the same name and is open to every visitor.

The school makes an annual trip for educational purposes as the castle has relics and structuring from thousands of years ago. You have seen pictures and videos where everything looks really beautiful, ancestral and almost royalty.

In addition the castle offers other activities, such as rides on its huge luxury yachts, surfing, diving and swimming lessons.

You always had the spirit to go but have always known that the trip is anything but educational. You've heard stories that happen with the students, such as getting drunk, partying on the yachts, hot tubs and obviously you've heard stories of who slept with whom.

Even the most reserved get to have fun and it's not something you're interested in. You know you don't fit in that environment, especially since everyone has to share a room and you're sure that if you go, you'll have to share a room with girls with different tastes and perspectives than yours. They probably won't even let you sleep.

"Come on Y/N, you've never been to Dragonstone?" asks Aemond incredulously, noting the grimace on your face for wanting you to go there with him.

"Well, yeah I've wanted to go but... I-I, I don't know, I've heard that instead of learning about the place, everyone goes to having fun, they party, they get drunk and I-I don't...

"And what do you expect us to do in a modern castle on the shore of the beach with yachts and hot tubs?" he inquires again, expectantly, "The trip is planned for the middle of the last month of these five months and you can't let me go alone with the things that go on in that place."

You make your grimace more visible, revealing your clear indecision. And even though you and Aemond have been at odds lately over the matter of tastes, he still places a soft smile in your direction, understanding that you are not like him and prefer to do other things.

"Look, you don't have to go to the parties and drink if you don't want to," he starts to tell you, "But we can at least go to one of the parties on the yachts and then do the activities they offer on site, swimming, diving and all that," he proposes, "We'll take pictures, tour the castle and we'll both be equally satisfied."

You ponder for a moment, considering his proposal. You know you only have to get your father's signature on the permit to be able to go to the island and it's not like you've gone before so... you can do it now.

"Well, I guess that's fine," you nod, "But really promise you won't leave me alone and we'll take the time to do other activities that aren't related to partying on yachts and hot tubs."

"Please, we'll go as a couple, so of course I won't leave you alone. You'll be stuck with me," he assures you, "And I also promise you that we'll do other activities, not just the parties."

"And..." you start to say, in a serious, warning tone, "Also promise you'll pick me up every morning to bring me to school. That's another one of my additional conditions. The bus isn't very comfortable anymore."

He nods, shrugging, completely unconcerned.

"Sure, it's no problem. Besides it will make the relationship more credible," he says softly.

Despite your doubts, you feel a sense of relief at seeing and acknowledging his commitment. And you also feel more confident knowing that you have his support in all of this, even in your conditions. So you write down the two new additional conditions.

Drive Y/N every morning to school.

Dragonstone trip.

At the end you both sign the sheet, looking honestly ridiculous but being funny, then both seal the whole contract by shaking hands.

"So when do we start all this?" you ask him, putting away your notebook and pen.

"I say tomorrow," he gives you a look of understanding, "But we need to talk now during classes in the hallways or in the cafeteria, so that when they see us together tomorrow, it won't be so surprising and will seem more believable."

You give him an unsure look.

"I think it will still be very surprising, Aemond."

"It doesn't matter, we just have to start showing together today, just talking. But tomorrow is when we really start."

And just as he says those words, with that determination, you feel again those nerves in your lower abdomen and that insecurity. But at least you still have all day today to mentally prepare yourself, and you're grateful for that.

"And before I forget this too..." he says again, "I need you to send me all your academic information to work on your college application now," he tells you seriously and you watch him completely attentively, "The five months will go by fast and during that time college applications will start. So it's best to get it all in now."

At this, you feel your heart start to beat fast and you don't know why, you guess because it's a very important issue for you. And more than anything else it's the reason you agreed to do this with him.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," you say softly, "I-I'll email it all to you."

He smiles softly in your direction.

"Very well," he nods at you, "I'll text you my email."

Despite your slight doubts about whatever is going to happen next, the idea of starting a fake relationship leaving you with a knot in your stomach and feeling your emotions mixed, you know this will all be worth a try.

So you pick up your phone and you start to write in an email all your personal and academic information. While at the same time all is said and done and the fake relationship contract is over.

THE CONTRACT

Duration of relationship: Until graduation.

Behavior in public: Show affection as genuinely as possible in public, such as gestures, hugs, and holding hands. KISSING ONLY WHEN EXTREMELY NECESSARY.

Public appearance: Act like a real couple in love, be committed and attentive to each other at school and social events.

No involvement with other girls/guys: No casual encounters or texting with anyone else for the duration of the fake relationship.

Maintain privacy: Tell absolutely no one about the fake relationship or involve each other's families in it.

ADDITIONAL CONDITIONS

Parties.

Lacrosse games.

For every party Y/N goes to with me, I will read a book or watch one of her favorite movies or shows.

Upload photos and videos together to our social media.

Drive Y/N every morning to school.

Dragonstone trip.

general taglist

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #modern aemond #modern hotd

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delicatebarness · 7 months ago

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cry baby | chapter twenty nine

Summary: Adrenaline courses through Cry Baby as she takes on some deep and needed conversation.

Warning: None, I don't think? Other than it being a Bucky-free chapter.

Word Count: 1266

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I have nothing to say with this one, except MY GIRL HAS A BACKBONE. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Your feelings were a mixture of emotions when you woke you the morning after the art exhibition. Bucky’s absence and your revelation of your feelings for him weighed heavily despite the success of your show. You began getting ready to leave for the gallery again, hoping the familiar surroundings and schedule would bring some distractions. However, more than anything, you wanted to talk to your brother.

You took a deep breath, picked up your phone, and sent him a message: “Can you meet me at the gallery? I need my brother.”

His response was quick, he agreed to meet you there. The gallery was quiet, a stark contrast to the lively celebration from the night before, as you arrived first. The art pieces stood silently, every pen stroke a testament to your hard work and passion.

A few minutes later, Steve walked in with a concerned expression. “Hey,” he said softly. “What’s going on?”

Emotions swirled within you as you turned to face him. “I’m not over what you did,” you began, the turmoil inside you betraying your voice causing it to tremble. “But, I really need my brother right now.”

Stepping closer, Steve’s eyes softened. “I’m here for you,” he assured, reaching out and gently squeezing your shoulder with a small smile. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath as you tried to find the right words. “I’m in love with Bucky.” Your words hung in the air, undeniable and heavy.

Steve’s jaw clenched, as his face tightened with anger. “What did you just say?”

“I love Bucky,” you repeated, your voice was firm.

“Do you know how many times I’ve had to stop him?” he mumbled, anger flaring visibly. “How many times he crossed the line?”

You stared at him, confusion etched in your face. “What are you talking about?”

His face could barely contain his fury, his fists clenched at his sides. “Every time I thought he was getting too close, I made sure he knew his place. I did it to protect you.”

The realization of his words hit you like a freight train. Memories of all those times Bucky would turn up at your apartment with new cuts, new bruises. “You… you were the one beating him all these years?”

Steve’s eyes widened, and shock filled them as he realized his slip-up. “I was trying to keep you safe,” he said, his voice softening, trembling with anger and regret. “He’s not right for you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, anger and frustration consuming you. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Steve! You don’t get to control my life like that!”

“I was trying to protect you!” Steve’s voice raised, his voice straining with emotion. “He’s my best friend, if anyone knows he’s not good for you, it’s me! I’ve seen what he’s capable of.”

“You’ve seen what he’s capable of because you pushed him to it!” you snapped back at him. “You beat him up every time you thought he was getting close to me? And, do you think that’s okay? You think that’s protecting me?”

The realization of his actions dawned on him, you had never seen Steve look so taken back. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“But you did,” you interrupted, your voice beginning to break. “It’s not your decision to make. I love you, Stevie, but if you want to be a part of my life, you need to stop trying to fucking control it. I’m in love with Bucky, and that is my choice.”

The silence between you grew heavy, filled with the weight of your words hanging in the air. Steve looked at you, regret and stubbornness warred on his expression. It seemed for a moment like he might argue back, but then he simply nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For everything. I’ll try to let it go. I just… I’ve always just wanted to protect you.”

Stepping forward, you wrapped your arms around your brother tightly. “I know. But, you have to trust me to make my own choices. That’s what we do, we trust each other.”

Steve hugged you back, his grip strong and desperate. “I’ll try. I promise.”

A weight lifted off your shoulders as you pulled away. The gap between you was far from resolved, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

You were left feeling both empowered and vulnerable as the adrenaline from your conversation with Steve coursed through you. You knew what you had to do next, you needed to act on your promises, and you couldn’t keep Peter in the dark any longer.

As you walked into the cafe you arranged to meet him at, your mind began to race. On the way, you rehearsed what you were going to say, and how you were going to explain your feelings. The adrenaline pushes you forward, giving you the strength you need.

Just as before, Peter was already seated at the corner table. There was a knowing look in his eyes, making your heart ache, as his expression stayed calm.

“Peter,” you began, your vice trembling slightly as you sat with him. “I need to talk to you about something.”

His gaze was gentle and understanding as he looked at you. “I know,” his soft voice cut you off before you could continue.

Confusion washed over you. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, a small sad smile playing on his lips. “I know you’re not in love with me. And I know you’ve tried to be, but… I’m not him. I’m not Bucky.”

His words sank in, tears welling in your eyes. “Peter, I’m so sorry. I truly never wanted to hurt you.”

Reaching across the table, he rested his hand on yours reassuringly. “I know you didn’t. I’ve seen it for a while now, the way you look at him. Your eyes light up when you talk about him… It’s always been him, hasn’t it?”

The tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded. “It has. But, I didn’t realize until last night.”

Squeezing your hand gently, Peter continued to speak softly. “I want you to be happy, and I can’t be the one to make you happy if your heart belongs to someone else.”

You nodded again. “I’m so sorry, Peter,” you whispered, your voice choking with emotion.

Another reassuring smile was sent your way. “It’s okay. I’ll always care about you, and even if it’s not with me, I want you to be happy.”

Pulling your hand back, you wiped away your tears. “You deserve to be with someone who is truly in love with you. You’re a good man, Peter, and you’ve been such an important part of my life.”

“And you mine,” he replied softly. “We’ll always have that.”

You both stood up to leave, Peter pulled you into a tight hug. “Take care of yourself,” he murmured.

“You too,” you replied, tightening your hold on him for a moment longer before finally letting go.

Walking toward the cafe door, you felt a strange mixture of sadness and relief. The adrenaline still lingered, causing you to turn back to Peter.

“Peter?” you called out, causing him to look up from his coffee cup. “I like Michelle.” His eyes flickered with surprise, a smile forming on his lips after a beat.

With a final nod toward him, you turned and walked out of the cafe. The sense of closure settles in your heart. As you stepped onto the bustling city sidewalk, you knew you had made the right decision for both you and Peter.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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benevolentbones · 6 months ago

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Hi, could you write Emily and the Reader where they broke up. and Emily from afar loves and misses the reader... you can add whatever you want. I'm waiting 😘

missing you | emily prentiss x reader

warnings: none just a lil angst

word count: 0.7k

a/n: hope you enjoy, emily my beloved <3 reblogs, requests and comments appreciated!

you and emily had been inseparable once, the kind of couple that others envied. your laughter filled rooms, your shared glances spoke volumes, and your connection was something deep and profound. but life had a way of complicating even the most perfect relationships. the demands of the job, the constant danger, and the emotional toll had finally driven a wedge between you.

the breakup had been mutual, though no less painful for it. you both knew that you needed time apart, space to heal and grow individually. still, it left a hollow ache in emily's heart that nothing seemed to fill.

weeks turned into months, and though emily threw herself into her work with the bau, she couldn't escape the memories of you. she saw you every day at the office, your professional demeanor a stark contrast to the warmth you once shared. you were cordial, even friendly, but there was a distance now that hurt more than the initial breakup.

emily found herself watching you from afar, her heart aching with longing. she noticed the small changes in your behavior—the way you smiled less often, the way you seemed quieter, more reserved. she wondered if you missed her as much as she missed you, if you still loved her as much as she loved you.

one evening, after a particularly grueling case, the team gathered at rossi's for a small celebration. emily couldn't help but steal glances at you, her heart clenching every time she saw your smile, which never quite reached your eyes anymore. she watched as you interacted with the others, your laughter sounding hollow, your gaze often drifting into the distance.

as the night wore on, emily found herself outside, needing a moment to collect her thoughts. the cool night air was a welcome relief, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. the sound of the door opening behind her made her turn, and she saw you standing there, a hesitant smile on your lips.

"hey.” you said softly, stepping closer.

"hi…" emily replied, her voice just as quiet.

"needed a break from the crowd?" you asked, leaning against the railing beside her.

emily nodded. "yeah, just needed a moment..." she trailed off, eyes raking over your form.

there was a silence between you, not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken words. emily wanted to reach out, to tell you how much she missed you, how her heart ached every time she saw you. but she didn't know how to begin.

"it's been hard.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. "being around you, pretending everything is okay."

emily's breath caught in her throat, and she turned to face you, her eyes searching yours. "i know. it's been hard for me too."

you looked down at your hands, fiddling with the ring on your finger—a habit emily knew well. "i miss you…” you admitted, your voice breaking slightly.

emily reached out, her fingers gently touching your arm. "i miss you too.” she confessed, her voice filled with emotion.

you looked up, your eyes meeting hers, and for a moment, the distance between you seemed to vanish. "i don't know if we can ever go back to what we were-“ you said, your voice trembling.

"maybe we can’t…" emily agreed, her heart breaking at the thought. "but maybe we can find something new, something better."

you glanced away for a moment. “i don’t know em.” your nickname for her ringing in her ears.

“we can try?” her voice laced with a pleading tone.

you looked up at her, she seemed like the shell of the person she used to be. her dark eyes tired, the colour drained from her pale face, but, she was still your emily. the woman you loved.

“i’d like that..” you mumbled out softy.

emily smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. "me too."

the two of you stood there for a while, the night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. it wasn't a perfect solution, but it was a start. and as emily looked at you, she realized that sometimes love meant finding new ways to be together, even after everything had changed.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid @khxna @cynbx

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x you #criminal minds requests #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #emily prentiss fluff

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nausicaamusiclover20 · 1 month ago

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So, apparently my crush on James reached the stage when just reading stories isn’t enough, I have to start requesting them)))

Black album James x ballerina reader (pretty please smut), where he’s just obsessed with their size difference and the fact that she’s very flexible? Like she pretty much drowns in his shirts, her hands are fragile compared to his, etc? one day, he comes to hotel after sound check and sees her doing her stretches in his shirt and her pointe shoes and that’s too much for him? He just has to make love to her? Maybe he is making references to Beaty and the beast ballet? Like James, the beast (metal band, rough guy, always grumpy) finally captured his beauty and will not let her go?

Thank you))

I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: Explicit Content,Adult Themes, Sexual Content light Possessiveness, Physical Intimacy

___________

In the Arms of the Beast

I didn’t hear the door open—I was too lost in my stretches, the slow pull of muscles and the grounding rhythm of my breath keeping me focused. The air in the hotel room was still, save for the faint rustle of fabric as I moved. James’s shirt, massive on me, slipped over one shoulder as I bent forward, palms flat against the floor.

The shirt smelled like him—leather, a touch of smoke, and something warm I could never quite name. It made me feel wrapped in him, even when he wasn’t here.

I was midway through a stretch, my legs extended in a perfect split, when a familiar growl broke the silence.

“You trying to kill me, darlin’?”

I jerked upright, my heart skipping a beat. Turning my head, I found him standing there, his broad frame nearly filling the doorway. His boots were still on, his hair slightly mussed from the day’s soundcheck, and his eyes… Oh, God, his eyes. They were locked on me like a predator that had found its prey.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He didn’t move, just stood there, drinking me in. His gaze traveled slowly, lingering on my legs, then the shirt that barely reached the tops of my thighs. His expression darkened, his lips curling into a crooked grin that sent a shiver down my spine. “Hell of a sight to walk into.”

Heat flooded my face, and I tried to play it off, standing and brushing down the oversized shirt. “I was just stretching.”

“Stretching,” he repeated, his voice low and rough, like gravel under heavy boots. He finally moved, stepping closer, and my pulse quickened. “You look like you’re dancing for me.”

I laughed nervously, though his intensity made it hard to breathe. “It’s not like that.”

But he was already closing the distance, his big hands finding my waist. His palms were rough against my skin, but his touch was gentle, reverent even. “You’re drowning in this shirt,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over the fabric. “Look at you. So damn tiny.”

My hands instinctively rested on his forearms, the contrast between us impossible to ignore. His arms were solid, his muscles thick and corded under my fingers. Next to his, my hands looked fragile, almost doll-like. He noticed it too, his gaze dropping to where I touched him, a quiet groan escaping his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice soft but loaded with something raw. “Like somethin’ out of a story. Beauty and the Beast.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, his hand slid up, tilting my chin so I was looking right into those piercing eyes. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine, warm and commanding. The kiss stole my breath, every bit of him consuming me in the best way.

His hands moved, gripping my hips as he pulled me against him. “Mine,” he growled against my lips. The word sent a thrill down my spine. “You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.”

My heart pounded as I clung to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed like I weighed nothing at all. His shirt rode up as he laid me down, exposing my bare legs and the ribbons of my pointe shoes.

He paused, hovering over me, his eyes dark with hunger. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“James…” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and desire.

His hands were everywhere—exploring, testing. He bent my leg, his touch slow and deliberate, as though marveling at my flexibility. His grin turned wicked as I arched beneath him, a soft gasp slipping from my lips.

“Shh, darlin’,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to my neck. His teeth grazed my skin, sending a jolt of heat through me, and then his tongue followed, soothing the spot. “Let me take care of you.”

James’s hands slid under the oversized shirt I wore, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His eyes darkened as he glanced up at me, a low growl escaping his throat.

“Fuck, baby, you look so good in this shirt. But it’s in the way,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I need to see you.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I lifted my arms as he tugged the shirt up and over my head, throwing it to the side without a second thought. I was left exposed before him, my skin flushed and my breath shallow as he took in the sight of me, his gaze almost possessive.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice rough as his hands traced down my arms, over my shoulders, and to the curve of my waist. His touch was like fire, leaving me aching for more.

His lips trailed along my neck, his breath hot against my skin, before moving lower, over my collarbone. As his hands gently cupped my breasts, I gasped at the feeling of his thumbs brushing over my nipples, hardening at his touch.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his mouth descending further, kissing along the top of my chest before moving to one nipple. He flicked his tongue over the hardened peak, sending a shiver through me.

I arched into him, my hands tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on me, his beard brushing against my skin in a way that made my entire body hum with pleasure. The sensation was both tender and intense, and I couldn't help but moan softly, feeling my body come alive under his touch.

But it was the way his hands moved, the way his fingers lightly traced the curve of my hips, that drove me wild. The gentleness with which he treated me, as though I were something precious, only added to the fire building inside.

"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling. It was a plea, though I didn’t know for what exactly, only that I needed him to make me feel.

With a soft chuckle, he pulled away for a moment, eyes dark with desire. "You’re so eager, darlin’. I’m not going anywhere. Just need to take my time with you."

His words, those quiet promises of patience, set my heart racing. Slowly, he lowered his body, kissing his way down my chest, over my stomach, and further still, until he hovered between my legs.

His eyes locked with mine, filled with a heat that made my breath catch. "Let me taste you, baby," he whispered, his voice hushed, reverent.

The words, the way he said them, stirred something deep within me. I parted my legs slightly, giving him the space he needed, feeling my pulse quicken with every inch closer he came.

Suddenly, he lifted me effortlessly, pressing me against the cool wall, enveloping me with his warmth. I felt my heart beating faster, his strong frame looming over me in a possessive yet gentle way. The heat of his body radiated against mine, sending shivers of anticipation down my spine.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a thrill through me. "I couldn’t resist. You’re just too tempting right now."

“Maybe I wanted you to,” I whispered back, feeling bold, excitement dancing in my chest.

Before I could respond further, he leaned in, capturing my mouth with his. His kiss was electrifying—hunger mixed with tenderness—as he poured his desires into the moment. I melted into him, my hands instinctively sliding into his hair, gripping the soft strands as he began to explore.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips along my jawline and down to my neck, where he lingered, his breath hot against my skin. I gasped, tilting my head back, giving him better access. “God, you taste so good,” he breathed against my collarbone.

“Then don’t stop,” I urged, shivering at his words.

As if sensing my need, he slowly sank to his knees in front of me, his eyes smoldering with intensity. I felt vulnerable yet safe under his gaze, my body aching for him.

“Please, James,” I begged softly, my voice barely above a whisper, my fingers curling tighter in his hair, a mixture of desperation and exhilaration coursing through me.

With a smirk, he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against my core. “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he said, his tone both commanding and soothing. And then he buried his face between my thighs.

The sensation was overwhelming—his tongue skillfully teasing me as he explored every inch of my softness. I gasped, the pleasure sending jolts of electricity coursing through me. I couldn’t help but rock my hips closer, urging him on, craving every pleasurable flick.

“James,” I moaned, the sound of his name spilling from my lips like a sweet invitation. His smirk against me made my heart race even faster.

“Feel good, baby?” he murmured, pausing briefly. The wicked look in his eyes only fueled my desire.

“More than you can imagine,” I breathed, arching my back, desperate for more. “Don’t stop, please…”

As he continued, I felt myself teetering on the edge, every flick of his tongue driving me closer. “You’re so good at this,” I panted, lost in the moment. “You know how much I crave this.”

“Only the best for you,” he replied between teasing kisses, his voice low and sultry. He paused and gave me a look filled with heat. “You deserve to be spoiled, babe.”

With my hands gripping his hair tighter, I pulled him closer. “Then spoil me.”

He was relentless, his mouth devouring me in a way that sent shockwaves through my body. “You’re delicious,” he said, a hint of possessiveness lacing his words. “I could stay here all night.”

“God, James,” I gasped, feeling another wave of pleasure building inside me. “I’m—”

He cut me off with a hard, swift move, pushing me over the edge, and I cried out in ecstasy. Colors exploded behind my eyelids as waves of bliss washed over me.

When I finally came down from my high, he stood, brushing his lips against mine with a possessive smirk. “You okay?” he asked, concern mingling with the raw desire in his eyes.

“Better than okay,” I whispered, feeling electric currents still dancing through my body. “Now I want you.”

His brow arched playfully, desires swirling like a tempest in his eyes. “You think you can handle me?” he teased, leaning closer.

I smirked back, feeling daring. “I’ve handled you before, haven’t I?”

“Touché,” he said with a chuckle, but his expression turned serious. “You ready for this?”

“Always,” I assured him, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

With a single motion, he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around him as he pressed me against the wall. I could feel him, hard and ready, throbbing against my core, and the intensity made my breath quicken. “You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice thick with need.

“Only for you,” I breathed. “Always for you.”

He grinned wickedly, his breath ghosting across my ear. “Then let’s see how much you can take.” With that, he sank into me in one smooth motion, and I gasped as he filled me completely.

“God, yes,” I breathed, losing myself in the sensation. “You feel incredible.”

“Damn right I do,” he growled, driving deeper. “And you’re mine.”

The rhythm of our bodies colliding filled the air, the sound a symphony of passion and urgency. “Look at me, Y/N,” he demanded, his eyes locked onto mine. I nodded, surrendering completely to him, my heart racing as I matched his intensity.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he urged, his breath ragged.

“James, it feels—oh god, it feels amazing,” I moaned, my body arching against his. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“That's right, baby. I want to hear you say it. I want you to remember how good I make you feel,” he said, his voice low and dark, sending shivers up my spine.

“James, you make me feel so good,” I whimpered, desperate for him. “Don’t stop. Just like that.”

With each thrust, he buried himself deeper, igniting flames of pleasure that threatened to consume me. The heat between us crackled, the world beyond us fading to nothing as we lost ourselves in each other.

“C’mon, babe. Let it go for me,” he urged, his voice a gravelly whisper as he picked up the pace, the need pushing both of us toward the brink.

“James, I’m so close,” I gasped, urgency flooding my voice.

“Then let go for me,” he commanded, thrusting harder, each movement focused solely on driving me to that sweet release. I could feel myself slipping, my breath hitching.

With one final deep thrust, I came undone, a wave of pleasure crashing over me, drawing out a desperate cry that echoed in the room. I felt him surge with me, his grip tightening as he lost himself inside me, his own moans harmonizing with mine.

In the aftermath, as our breaths mingled, he cradled my face in his hands, his touch gentle amidst the overwhelming intensity. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his eyes softening as they bore into mine.

I smiled, relishing the aftermath of our passion. “So are you,” I replied, my fingers trailing along his jaw. “You always know how to make me feel amazing.”

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “And I’ll keep making you feel that way, because you deserve it.”

With a warmth filling my chest, I leaned in and pressed my lips against his once more, feeling grateful for this moment and the man who held me so tenderly yet fiercely. In James’ arms, I knew I had found something extraordinary.

#metallica #metallica oneshot #metallica fanfiction #metallica smut #metallica x reader #metallica x you #james hetfield one shot #james hetfield #james hetfield smut #jameshetfieldxreader #jameshetfield x you #reqs open #nausicaamusiclover20

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midnight-mourning · 3 months ago

Text

DCA Promptober Day 9: Off-Limits

Had an idea in mind for this one, then @soupdweller pretty much solidified it for me with this piece of art. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1868

Content warning: non graphic depicitions of death, obsessive behavior if you squint really really hard, reader discresion is advised

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

You wish you were taller. Maybe not super tall, and certainly not eight or nine feet tall, but a couple inches you think would be nice. A couple inches could potentially make you feel a bit less, small, in this situation.

The Daycare Attendant looms over you, that cartoonish grin and dead eyes certainly not helping your nerve. You swallow. You were not going to let him intimidate you, you were not going to let him intimidate you-

"Friend."

"Sun," Your voice is more squeaky than you'd ever like it to be, you clear your throat, "Can I get past you, please?"

His rays click sharply to one side, "I'm afraid not. This area is off-limits."

"I, understand that, but it's also my job as a guard to check that everything is in order-"

He moves suddenly, bending down so that your faces are now inches apart, he tilts his head, "Off. Limits."

You have it in you to get a little annoyed then. You don't really know the Attendant all that well, and from what you've heard from other staff he's usually pretty friendly and even a bit, oblivious.

This was not that.

From the moment you'd met he'd been off-putting, a little creepy, and in a way, hostile to you and everything you did. You almost wondered if it was a work hours vs after hours thing, but whenever anyone else was around he had that chipper persona. It was just with you that there was a problem.

"What's in there that's such an issue?" You ask, trying to peer around him, ignoring the way his 'pupils' seem to shift and watch you, "Last I checked the Plex doesn't have any big secrets. Not any that I as a guard wouldn't know about at least."

It's hard to tell what's back there, mainly because of the near blinding light coming from the doorway to contrast with the darkened space you're currently standing in. And from what you remember, it was all just storage space. One of the bigger ones to your understanding. Actually, how'd the Attendant even get over here? You don't remember there being another entrance to this location. And furthermore, why is he-

"That," He puts a hand on your shoulder, "Is not," You're shoved backward, "Your concern."

Okay, now you're irritated, "For the last time, this is my job. Last I checked, you're the Daycare Attendant, and I'm the security guard. So, you can either move out of my way, or I make you move."

Sun stands upright again, clasping his hands in front of him, "You can try."

"Why do you even care? Why are you even over here?" You point your finger at him now, "You know, you've been honestly kind of a jerk to me since I started, and I'm kind of sick of it. I've never done anything to you!"

A click. You continue.

"I have tried to be nothing but kind and considerate, I don't stay in your space too long, I wave when I see you, I compliment your art and yet you've been nothing but cold, impassive, and downright rude."

The Attendant is stock still and frankly, you don't care.

"What did I do to deserve this, huh? What made you decide I was going to be the target of your just, straight vitriol toward me?" You throw your hands up, then slap them against your legs.

Your breathing is heavy now. But at least you've said your peace.

It's then that the bot laughs, not the reaction you were expecting. For some reason, it sends a chill down your spine.

He takes a step closer, then another. It gives you an idea as he once more bends down to your level.

"What you've done?" Several rapid clicks of his rays turning to the right, "You want to know what you've done-"

You quickly sidestep him, darting inside, "Maybe some other time! Let's say after my patrol, how's that?"

He makes a loud sound then, which you take as merely mild frustration. Something that in hindsight, was a mistake on your part. You snickered, served him right. You were just trying to do your job.

The storage room was a lot bigger than you were expecting. Grander. Many aisles of boxes piled to the high ceiling on either side of you, along the backwall, and is that a connecting room behind? Geez, why is this area not patrolled more often? Seems like there's a lot of stuff to grab, regardless of there seeming to just be the one entrance.

You think you've lost Sun, for now anyway. If he catches up to you again it's not like he can do anything except complain. The thought instantly peeves you.

You're nearing one of the back corners of this front room now, deciding to radio back to the main office, "Hey, working on the last bit of my route, there a reason we don't check this storage room more routinely?"

"We don't.... manpower.... -eople have... -ssing. Wasn't supposed... -your route. -ou should probably-.... -here." Is the response you receive.

You frown, speaking into the device again, "Hey, you're cutting out super bad, could you repeat that?"

All you get is more garbled static as a response. You shrug it off. Must be a dead zone near this room. Annoying, but that's life.

There's a smell in here, you're realizing. And it's not dust, even though there's quite a lot of that. It's decay.

And the closer you get to that back corner, the stronger is gets.

Now, a normal person would say fuck it, and call a custodian to deal with whatever poor animal had gotten in here and died. And maybe on a different night, you would have done that. But for some reason, that wasn't the decision you were going to make for tonight.

You round the corner and find-nothing. Just some more boxes. But god that smell is strong now. You're getting ready to turn around and high tail it out of there, when you notice that there's something sticking out from the corner, between where the boxes on either wall collide.

You don't need to get a closer look to confirm what it is, but you do.

You can only stare on in complete and utter disbelief.

Yup. That is indeed a shoe. Attached to a foot, attached to a dead body-a dead security guard's body-which you're 99% sure is what you were smelling.

The surprising part of all this was exactly how many dead bodies were stuffed into that corner. All in various states of decay.

"I warned you."

You jump, whipping around to find Sun staring at you. Somehow, the blank look in his eyes is more unreadable than ever before. You swear there's like, a shimmer to optics. Kind of, purplish. But your eyes are probably playing tricks on you.

Your instant reaction is to pray, but you think it's a little late for that. Your second reaction is to beg.

Your voice wavers as you speak, hands up defensively, "Pl-please don't, don't, hurt me..."

"Hurt you? Oh no no no, sweet thing. I'd never want to hurt you," Sun tuts, his words have a softness you've never witnessed before, "I'll admit I haven't done the best job of showing it, but I do care."

In your shock of it all, you can just stand there, fear dissipating just slightly while blinking a few times, "Excuse me?"

He goes off on his own little tangent, starting to pace as he speaks more to himself than to you, "Believe me, coming to terms with the idea that you of all people would catch my interest wasn't, easy, but I think I've been dealing with it to the best of my ability," He turns to you, hands together, "And now, you've made this entire process that much simpler!"

"...Simpler how?" You're still processing the dead people thing; you aren't even comprehending the idea that Sun likes you.

"Well, now we can so spend time catching you up to speed," Sun tilts his head, tone eerily cheering as his eyes lift into crescents, "You didn't think you could leave now, did you?"

You bolt.

You try to remember how you got back here, which ways to turn to get back to the front. Given you're kind of freaking out right now, it's not easy.

Sun's behind you, somewhere. Sure you can hear him; those bells were loud on top of the mechanical clinks and whirls his limbs emit as he follows after you. The problem is that he's eight feet tall and you can only run so damn fast.

You find the entrance. The door's shut.

"Shit. Shit, come on," You fumble for your keycard, shaking hands swiping it through the card reader.

"Access denied. Access denied. Access denied."

You hear Sun a few aisles over, "Ah, ah, ah. Leaving so soon? After you worked so hard to get in here?"

You curse under your breath as he continues.

"And really, to not bother to listen after I told you to stay is really, quite, rude," From the sounds of it, he's now where you just were, and seemed to be expecting you to still be trying to get out, having the gull to be annoyed about it, "Well there goes that dramatic reveal."

You don't know where you're running but you realize you're going to need to find a destination soon, because you're going to eventually run out of stamina. And Sun will not.

A hiding place. You need a hiding place.

"I put in a lot of effort to keep this from you, Starshine," Sun says to the empty space, "Spare you from this thing, that I've become."

There is nowhere to hide in here. It's just the same repeating rows over and over again. Could you maybe circle back? Start climbing? Just something-

"It's not a willing participation, you know. If you understood how this f̴͉̲̲̳̐̑̈́̍̀eė̴̘̽̋l̴͍̣͎̙͎̉̃ṣ̶̪̀, maybe you'd be a bit more sympathetic. Though I suppose that's a big ask."

You need to quiet your breathing, collect yourself a bit. Find another option.

You swallow, trying to calm down as you rest back against the cardboard. It sort of works.

Until you become acutely aware of the fact that Sun is now silent.

You strain your ears, eyes flicking back and forth to either end of the aisle. You're closer to the one on your left than the right, but you wonder if it'd be worth the risk to dash to the other side.

Unfortunately, you don't get the chance.

You take a step away from the makeshift wall, only able to react after the fact as Sun comes from around the corner, the surprise of seeing him making your trip backwards as you spin to face him.

He catches you, and you notice that the ribbons which usually wrap around his wrists are missing. He tricked you.

"Caught you friend~" He chuckles lightly at the joke.

You can only look up at him with fear. His pupils are purple, you're sure of it now. He leans in, rays spinning.

"Maybe next time you'll listen when I say something is off-limits."

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Since y'all liked reading the notes I write for Confused Spirit, here's the one I wrote for this lmao:

You can read the others here, sorry for being late with this! As you can see, she was a biggin'. Thanks for reading!

#hope the tag is okay!#your promptober stuff has been great to see ^-^#hehehe lil virus Sun in the mix there for you all~#drops this and skitters back to my cave to work on day 10 and 11 #dcatober24 #fnaf dca #dca fandom #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #dca fic #x reader

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arjudy224 · 8 months ago

Text

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

Gotham harbor buzzes with energy this morning. Fishermen compete for the best catch. Dozens of workers prep the yachts for their bosses rich escapades. Even the seagulls are hard at work today, eagerly searching the docks for their next meal. A perfect image of regular people living their lives. Unfortunately if we've been called, then something must be going horribly wrong. Judging from the crowd of distressed fishermen forming towards the end of the boardwalk, my gut feeling was right.

As I draw near the distressed crowd, a familiar voice rises above the rest.

"We are sending our best people to look into this. Keep an eye out for a press conference by the end of today." Detective Gordon addresses the crowd.

The crowd erupts in a chorus of anger.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm going to brutalize that clown!"

"God, I hate this city."

Behind the greying Detective stands a very sour looking Dr. Harris. I maneuver my way through the crowd next to him.

"Dr." I greet from behind.

Dr. Harris says nothing while attempting to catch a slippery fish.

"How adept are you at evolutionary biology?" He eventually asks through the sweat beating down his face.

"I dabble..." I respond growing closer to peer over his shoulder.

Dr. Harris grabs a fish with his bare hands. Before I can move the wiggling vertebrate leaps from his hands directly at my face.

"Catch it!" Dr. Harris hisses.

The flying tang leaves a wet trail across my cheek before dropping into my hands. The poor fish fights with everything it has to get away. Against all odds, I manage to wrangle the wiggle worm into a somewhat sturdy position in my palms.

Once the fish slows a bit, I notice something. The fish is smiling. A big yellow toothy smile with a red outline that one could mistake for lips. The external scales have turned a peculiar, yet familiar shade of pearly white. Both the pelvic fin and the pectoral fin have developed into a contrasting shade of dark green.

If I didn't know any better, I would say it looked like-

"Joker..." A voice growls interrupting my thoughts.

Turning to face our new arrival, I almost laugh at what I see. Batman's suit looks a little goofy in the morning heat. Sweat drips down his cowl to create a slight shimmer. Dr. Harris immediately begins explaining our situation to the Caped Crusader.

"This batch came in last night. We don't know how or why. The working hypothesis is that this may be a side effect of the Jokers latest toxin."

"Is it deadly?" Batman questions eyeing the gasping fish in my hands.

"Not to the fish. We should get the test results back by noon if we start soon."

Batman nods.

"Let me know what you find out."

I take pity on the fish and throw it back with the rest. Most of my life I've struggled with asthma: I know the feeling.

"What would he have to gain from this?" I wonder aloud.

Turning to the Dark Knight, I am stunned to realize there is nobody there. Batman disappeared. Doing a 360, I notice a dark figure hiding in the shadows on the nearest boat.

Huh.. Maybe the dark suit doesn't look so dumb in the daylight after all.

Dr. Harris smiles at me for the first time. My heart pounds. This can't be good.

"Didn't you say that you liked smoothies?"

Why does this feel like a test? I nod slowly.

"I hope you didn't eat anything too heavy this morning. We'll need to prep quite a bit of samples."

I narrow my eyes. Samples are typically liquid. How would we make fish.... Oh my God... This cannot be happening.

"Don't we need to test the water for excess nutrients? We don't want an algae bloom to form from the toxin."

There's a glint that forms underneath his unnecessarily large glasses.

"All in good time dear. We can worry about that after lunch."

Hoisting the barrel of Joker fish into the bed of his pick up truck, Dr. Harris teases down at me.

"After we prep those samples, how about fish and chips? I'm having a craving."

The Intern: Gotham x reader

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Teachers Pet

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

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viagracex · 4 days ago

Note

any type of hurt/comfort with George Clarke would be greatly appreciated 🙏🙏

Secrets, Lies, and Uncertainty

george clarkey x fem!oc

summary: george publicly dismisses the idea of settling down, unaware that his secret girlfriend, Tessa, overhears.

warnings: hurt/comfort

notes: i had so many ideas for this request so expect more hurt no comfort coming soon!

2.3k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

The air in the dimly lit living room hung heavy with the scent of spilled beer and cheap cologne. Laughter erupted from a circle of friends gathered around a coffee table littered with empty bottles and half-eaten snacks. George, his brunette hair tousled and cheeks flushed from one too many drinks, leaned back into the plush sofa cushions, a lazy grin plastered across his face.

"So, George," Arthur drawled, raising an eyebrow suggestively, "when are you gonna settle down with a nice girl, eh? You can't play the field forever, mate."

The group snickered, and George felt a flicker of panic in his chest. His eyes darted briefly to the kitchen doorway, where he caught a glimpse of her – Tessa, with her cascade of chestnut curls and emerald eyes that always seemed to see right through him. Their secret burned in his throat like the whiskey he'd been drinking all night.

Forcing a chuckle, George waved his hand dismissively. "Settle down? Me? Nah, that's not in the cards anytime soon, fellas.

But as the words left his mouth, George felt a pang of guilt. He caught Tessa's silhouette retreating from the doorway, her shoulders visibly tensing. The laughter of his friends faded into a dull roar as he realized the impact of his careless words.

"Yeah, you know me," he continued, his voice strained as he tried to maintain the facade. "I'm all about the bachelor life. Why tie yourself down when there's so much fun to be had?"

Arthur clapped him on the back, nearly spilling his drink. "Well George, a true ladies' man aren't you!"

The conversation drifted to other topics, but George found himself unable to focus. His eyes kept darting to the kitchen, hoping to catch another glimpse of Tessa. The weight of their shared secret pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe in the crowded room.

As the party began to wind down, George excused himself, claiming he needed some fresh air. He stumbled out onto the back porch, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stuffy interior. The sound of the sliding door opening behind him made him turn, and there she was – Tessa

Tessa stood in the doorway, her silhouette illuminated by the warm glow from inside. The distant laughter of their friends echoed behind her, a stark contrast to the tense silence between them. George's heart raced as he took in her appearance - her emerald eyes glistening with unshed tears, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Tess," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean-"

"Didn't mean what, George?" she interrupted, her words sharp and brittle like shards of glass. "Didn't mean to reduce our relationship to nothing more than a dirty little secret? Didn't mean to make me feel like I'm just another notch on your bedpost?"

George winced, the weight of his careless words crashing down upon him. He reached out to her, but she took a step back, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

"I heard everything," Tessa continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "Every word about your precious bachelor life, about how you're not ready to settle down. Tell me, George, where do I fit into that picture? Am I just a placeholder until something better comes along. 'Bachelor life'? 'So much fun to be had'? Is that really how you see us?"

The porch light cast long shadows across her face, accentuating the hurt in her eyes. George could see the slight tremor in her lower lip, the way her fingers twisted the hem of her sweater – telltale signs of her distress that he'd come to recognize over the past few months.

"It's not like that," he protested weakly, taking a step towards her. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it, George?" Tessa demanded, her voice cracking. "Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like you're ashamed of me, of us."

George ran a hand through his disheveled hair, the cool night air sobering him faster than he'd like. The distant chirping of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves seemed to mock the tense silence between them.

"I'm not ashamed," he said softly, taking another tentative step towards her. "I'm... I'm scared, Tess."

Tessa's eyebrows furrowed, her anger momentarily replaced by confusion. "Scared? Of what?"

George sighed, leaning against the porch railing. The rough wood pressed into his palms, grounding him as he struggled to find the right words. "Of how much I feel for you. Of how real this is becoming. I've never felt this way before, and it terrifies me."

The moonlight cast a silvery glow on Tessa's face, illuminating the conflicting emotions playing across her features. She uncrossed her arms, her posture softening slightly.

“You’re not a secret. You’re the part of my life that I treasure the most. I just... I panic sometimes, about how the lads will react. It’s stupid, and I’m an idiot for making you feel this way."

"So your solution is to pretend I don't exist?" Tessa's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the night air like a knife.

George flinched, the truth of her words stinging more than any shouted accusation could have. He opened his mouth to respond, but Tessa held up a hand, silencing him.

"No, let me finish," she said, her emerald eyes blazing with a mixture of hurt and determination. "For months, I've been sneaking around, making excuses to my friends, lying to my family. All because you said you needed time. And I understood, I really did. But tonight... tonight I realized that maybe I've been fooling myself."

The porch light flickered, casting dancing shadows across their faces. In the distance, an owl hooted mournfully, as if echoing the pain in Tessa's voice.

"I'm not asking for a grand declaration, George. I'm not expecting you to shout our relationship from the rooftops. But is it too much to ask for a little acknowledgment? To not feel like I'm your dirty little secret?"

George's chest tightened, each word hitting him like a physical blow. He could see the pain etched in every line of Tessa's face, the moonlight highlighting the unshed tears in her eyes. The weight of his thoughtless words hung between them like a tangible presence.

"Tess, I..." he began, his voice hoarse. "You're right. I've been a coward, and I've hurt you in the process. That's the last thing I ever wanted to do."

Tessa's eyes welled up, her lower lip trembling as she fought to maintain her composure. "I just... I can't keep doing this, George. It's tearing me apart."

As the words left her lips, the dam finally broke. Tears began to stream down Tessa's face, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. The moonlight caught the glistening tracks on her cheeks, turning them into silvery rivulets. Her knees buckled slightly, and she leaned against the porch railing for support, her fingers gripping the weathered wood so tightly her knuckles turned white.

George felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. He'd seen Tessa cry before - during sad movies or when recounting a particularly touching moment - but never like this. Never because of him. The sound of her muffled sobs seemed to echo in the still night air, drowning out the distant chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

Her emerald eyes, usually so bright and full of life, were now red-rimmed and filled with a pain that George knew he had caused.

He took a deep breath, the crisp night air filling his lungs and clearing his alcohol-addled mind. In that moment, looking at Tessa's face – a face he'd come to know better than his own – he realized how close he was to losing the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"The truth is," George continued, his words coming faster now, "I'm terrified of how much I love you. It's not just liking you, or enjoying your company. I'm head over heels, can't-eat-can't-sleep in love with you, Tessa. And that scares the living daylights out of me."

Tessa's sobs quieted as she looked up at George, her eyes wide with her lips parting in surprise. The distant sound of car doors slamming and engines starting signaled the departure of some of their friends, but neither George nor Tessa moved. The moment hung between them, fragile and charged with emotion.

"You... love me?" Tessa whispered, her voice a mixture of hope and disbelief.

George nodded, swallowing hard. "More than I've ever loved anyone. And that's why I've been such an idiot. I thought if I kept you at arm's length, if I didn't let anyone else see how important you are to me, then maybe I could protect myself from getting hurt. But all I've done is hurt you instead."

He took a tentative step forward, relief washing over him when Tessa didn't back away. "I don't want to hide anymore, Tess. I don't want to pretend that you're not the most important person in my life. I want to shout it from the rooftops, tell everyone who'll listen that I'm the luckiest bloke in the world because I have you."

Tessa's blinked back the remaining tears, her bottom lip still trembling. "You really mean that?"

George reached out, gently cupping her face. "I'm truly sorry, Tess. I'm sorry for making you feel like you weren't important, like you were something to be ashamed of. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I've been too scared to admit it."

Tessa's eyes searched his face, as if looking for any sign of deceit. "Why now? What's changed?"

George let out a shaky laugh. "Nothing's changed. Everything's changed. Seeing the hurt in your eyes tonight... it made me realize what an arse I've been. And how close I was to losing you."

"So, what do we do now?" Tessa asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tessa's eyes softened, the hurt slowly melting away as she processed George's words. She reached up, placing her hand over his on her cheek. "I don't want to lose you either.”she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “But, George I can't keep living like this, always wondering where I stand. I need to know this isn't just another empty promise.

George nodded,his thumb gently caressing her cheekbone. Understanding the weight of her words. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do. With gentle determination, he took Tessa's hand and led her back towards the sliding door.

"What are you doing?" Tessa asked, confusion evident in her voice.

"Something I should have done a long time ago," George replied, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his stomach.

As they stepped back into the living room, George was relieved to see that a few of their friends were still lingering, including Arthur. The conversation died down as they noticed George and Tessa's entrance, hands intertwined.

"Oi, George!" Arthur called out, his words slightly slurred. "Thought you'd done a runner on us!"

George took a deep breath, squeezing Tessa's hand for reassurance. "Actually, mate, there's something I need to say." His voice carried across the room, drawing everyone's attention. "I haven't been entirely honest with you all, and it's time I set things straight."

A hush fell over the room as George pulled Tessa closer to his side. "This amazing woman right here? She's not just a friend. Tessa and I have been together for about seven months, and I've been too much of a coward to admit it."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise, while a few others exchanged knowing glances. George pressed on, his voice growing stronger with each word. "I love her. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm done pretending otherwise."

Tessa looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mixture of pride and love. George felt a weight lift from his shoulders as he continued, "So, to answer your question from earlier, Arthur – I have settled down. And I couldn't be happier about it."

For a moment, silence reigned. Then Arthur let out a booming laugh, crossing the room to clap George on the back. "Well, I'll be damned!" he exclaimed, grinning widely. "Our George, all grown up and in love!"

The tension in the room dissolved as their friends erupted into a chorus of cheers and congratulations. Tessa felt her cheeks flush as she was enveloped in hugs and well-wishes, the secret that had weighed so heavily on her for months finally out in the open.

"About bloody time, mate," Arthur said, giving George a knowing look. "We were wondering how long you two were going to try to keep it under wraps."

George blinked in surprise. "You knew?"

Arthur rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Course we did, you numpty. The way you two look at each other? Not exactly subtle, are you?"

As their friends laughed and joked around them, George turned to Tessa, his eyes searching her face. "I'm sorry it took me so long to do that," he said softly, so only she could hear. "I promise, from now on, no more hiding. No more secrets."

Tessa's lips curved into a radiant smile, her earlier hurt melting away like morning mist under the warm sun of George's declaration. She stood on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering for a moment as she whispered, "I love you too, you wonderful idiot."

George's heart contracted at the admission. He pulled her into his arms, reveling in the familiar scent of her shampoo and the feel of her soft curves molding against him. "God," he vowed, his voice gruff with emotion. "You're it for me, Tess. You're my everything."

#george clarke #george clarke fics #george clarkey #british youtubers #uk youtube #british youtube #george clarkey fic #george clarkeey #youtube fanfic #youtube #uk yt

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raekensluver · 4 months ago

Note

Finnick Odair teasing reader and then bow Chika bow bow 😉

sorry angel, i tried for days to write this as smut (because thats what i assume you wanted) but i just couldn't do it with the situation i had written. i hope this suffices !!

finnick odair x victor!fem!reader, 1.0k

you step out onto the balcony, the heavy wooden door groaning softly as it swings shut behind you, the sound swallowed by the muffled chatter of the party inside. the cool night air kisses your face, a stark contrast to the sticky warmth of the capitol ballroom. the moon, a silver dollar in the sky, casts a gentle light across the cityscape, revealing the capitol's gleaming spires and the distant outline of the arena. a soft, almost imperceptible breeze rustles the leaves of the potted plants lining the balcony's edge, carrying with it the faint scent of the ocean, a teaser of the world beyond the city's gleaming walls.

turning to your right, you spot finnick leaning casually against the railing, his golden hair glinting in the moonlight. he's dressed in his usual attire—a crisp creme sweater paired with brown slacks—his eyes, those sea-green eyes, lock onto yours, and a grin spreads across his face. "so, you couldn't resist my charm and had to follow me out here, huh?" he teases, the sound of his voice a velvety purr that makes your heart stumble in your chest. his words hang in the air, light as a feather, but they carry the weight of his mischievous spirit.

you laugh, the sound a little too loud in the quiet night. "maybe i just needed some fresh air," you retort, rolling your eyes playfully. there's a spark in his gaze as he pushes himself away from the railing and approaches you. his movements are fluid, almost predatory, but there's no malice in them—only a hint of curiosity and something else. something that sends a thrill down your spine.

his hand brushes against yours, and for a moment, it feels like the universe has paused, waiting for the next beat. "fresh air, huh?" he says, his voice low and intimate. "you know, i've noticed you've had quite the knack for finding your way to me during these parties."

you tilt your head to the side, a smirk playing on your lips. "maybe it's the allure of the victor's charm," you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "you're so full of yourself, finn."

his smile widens, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "but you love it, don't you?" he asks, stepping closer. his breath is warm against your cheek, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body. your heart races, and your palms grow damp. it's not fear though—it's something else.

you swallow hard, trying to keep your cool. "maybe," you concede, your voice barely above a whisper. the tension between you is palpable, thick enough to slice with a knife. you can see it in the way his pupils dilate, the way his hand lingers near yours. it's like the air itself is charged with electricity, waiting for a spark to set it alight.

his grin turns into a smoldering smile. "good," he murmurs, closing the gap between you. your chests are almost touching now, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart. his hand, still so close to yours, begins to trace the outline of your fingers, sending shivers down your arm. "because i've noticed something too," he says, his voice a seductive whisper that sends heat pooling in your stomach.

you arch an eyebrow, playing along. "and what's that?" you ask, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions within.

his thumb brushes against your knuckles, sending a jolt through your system. "how often you seek me out," he says, his voice dropping to a murmur that's just for you. "how you look at me when you think no one's watching."

you scoff, trying to keep your voice light. "it's because you're my only friend," you reply, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears. "who else would I talk to at these ridiculous capitol parties?"

finnick laughs, a deep, rich sound that echoes off the balcony walls. "is that all i am to you?" he asks, his eyes searching yours. his thumb continues to trace lazy circles on the back of your hand, sending warmth through your veins.

you bite your bottom lip, feeling the heat of his gaze on your skin. "what are you getting at?" you challenge, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

his smile turns knowing, and he takes a step closer, so that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. "i'm getting at the fact that i don't think friendship is the only reason you seek me out, darling," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends your stomach fluttering. "there's something else there, something you're not telling me."

you're about to protest, to laugh it off and make some quip about his ego, but before the words can leave your mouth, he leans in and kisses you. it's a soft, gentle press of his lips against yours, and it takes your breath away. your eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, you're frozen, your hand hovering mid-air as his thumb stops moving.

but then you kiss him back, letting the pent-up feelings you've been trying to ignore flood through you. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, as the tension between you snaps and morphs into something else entirely. something warm and fierce and alive. his hands find your waist, his touch firm and reassuring, grounding you as the world tilts on its axis.

his kiss deepens, his tongue exploring the seam of your lips with a gentle insistence that has you melting into him. the taste of mint and the faint metallic tang of champagne is intoxicating, making you want to devour every inch of him. your heart pounds in your chest, the sound of it echoing in your ears like a war drum.

but just as suddenly as it began, finnick pulls away, his smile wicked. "see? i knew it," he says, his voice smug. "you can't resist me."

you blink, the taste of him still lingering on your lips. before you can formulate a response, a mischievous glint enters your eyes. "maybe i just felt sorry for the lonely victor," you tease, taking a step back and smoothing down your dress. "now, if you'll excuse me," you say, your tone playful but firm, "i have a party to rejoin."

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #sam claflin #sam claflin x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games trilogy #hunger games #thg #thg fanfiction #mara's inbox *ੈ✩‧₊˚#mara's anons *ੈ✩‧₊˚

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minniebbang · 26 days ago

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Platform 8 | B.Chan

pairing: ghost!Chan x fem!reader summary: Do you know anything about him? The ghost of platform 8? Consider your fate had been sealed if you encounter him. word counts: 1.6k words genre: horror warning: violence and a bit of gore..? Chan's appearance here is inspired by railway mv(the black suits? yeah). Chan is a psycho...maybe? pet name (the reader is called by princess) a/n: Did I write this after the mv dropped? yes. Did I regret it? Umm, hard to tell. I'm not good at writing horror if anyone can guess :(.

Do you know anything about him? The ghost of platform 8?

12.59 pm: The last train usually waited for the night owl worker by the platform, doors opened invitingly. Although you needed to admit, it was terrifying to take the train with a few passengers inside who had the same fates as you—working until late at night, hoping to make extra money to survive. The train was the only transportation available to return home.

You stumbled on your feet as you rushed to platform 8, nearly slamming your face on the stairs. The announcer’s voice bombed out of the speaker right after you entered the train – indicating the doors were closing. Hands falling to your knee, your mouth quickly gasping for air, ears easily slipped off how the voice of the announcer glitched at the end of the sentences – a male had taken control, bidding the train with an eerie voice reminding the passengers or you to take a seat and enjoy the ride.

Looking around, the yellow chairs staring back at you. The silence in the air was thickening as moments passed by. You were the only passenger.

You headed to the seat beside you, head resting against the glass as you threw your gaze to the window across you, your bag cast to your side. The train was still moving along the tunnel; the low scratches between the train’s wheel and the railway were distant, but due to the quietness, you could catch it. The fluorescent lights turned blurry in your vision when your eyelids felt heavy as if someone’s finger were pushing your eyelids down. Your shoulder slumped backwards.

“Only for a while, Y/N. Or else you’ll miss your stop.” You whispered. Long after, you gave in to the temptation that was your tiredness. Before you were out of your consciousness, you felt a hot breath fanning your ear.

What an easy victory for him.

“Wake up, princess. How long are you going to sleep?” A voice teased. He saw your eyes twitching in discomfort and the smirk on his face grew even wider. Unfolding your eyes, your eyes widened and a sharp gasp escaped you when his face was inches away from you, his odd eyes burying a hole into yours, gleaming in unexplainable excitement.

His hands were pushing you into the seat, and his firm hold showed no sign of letting go; instead, his nail began digging into your shoulder. You tried to pry his hand but it was vain.

“Who…are you?” You stammered.

The fear in your voice was too evident, feeding him with more adrenaline rush than he had expected. When was the last time he felt this? Years ago?

“Didn’t anybody tell you about me?” He tilted his head and his smirk faltered, a stark contrast to his previous demeanour. His tone carried a heavy disappointment, the excitement in his eyes faded.

You hastily shook your head, your figure quivered in his hold. He leaned back, retreating his hand from your shoulder. Some blood dripped to your clothes and to the polished floor above where his hands were hanging, its clothed sharp nail changing into a light shade of black from your blood.

Your shoulder ached in pain but no scream left your lips.

“Introduction is pointless when you have less than one hour.” His voice echoed throughout the train, sending shivers down your spine at how distorted it sounded. Your gaze wandered inside the train. The light had dimmed. The yellow chairs had changed into white chairs with black and red uncanny substances splashed onto them; some reached the window surface. Your legs jerked into the seat after realising bodies were scattered on the floor, eerie red liquid flowing on the floor from the broken necks and stabbed bodies. What the hell was happening?

“But since you’re new, I’ll tell you my name. It’s Chris”

Your breath stuck in your throat at the name. Your face drained of colour. A delightful chuckle bubbled out of him as if your fear was dopamine that was coursing through his body, keeping him alive.

“Huh…I never laughed this much before. You’re different.” His small pupil trailed its way toward you momentarily before walking off to another compartment of the train, kicking any heads in his way away, the cracking of their bone echoed in your ears. You observed the view outside the window. It was pitch black, but the train was still moving.

You froze in your seat, muscles unable to move due to your trembling figure.

1 second…2 second…3 second...

“Are you going to let the death devour you, princess?” He asked lowly and as soon as he spoke, the bodies under you twitched, arms limping toward you in a desperate attempt to get a hold of you. Their skins were melted from the skull and were covered with the same liquid on his face. He never wanted to warn you but to lead you to your death.

Clenching your fist, you ran after him, your stomach twisting unpleasantly at the sound when you accidentally stepped onto their hands. Fortunately, you arrived at him with a few scratches on your legs. He threw his head back, letting out a sinister laugh as the light above you flickered.

“Please let me out.” You gripped his suit, and your knuckles turned white while your knees lost their strength. Was this the right to do? Your only destination was home, why did he suddenly haul you into this hell hole?

His laugh abruptly stopped as he looked down at you, his fingers gently running through your hair. “And why should I?!” His lips stretched into a wide smile as the train rumbled.

“Don’t you see the others? They are happy! I bring an end to their misery and grant them the eternal life that they always wanted. Don’t you want to feel it too?”

You heard their blood-curdling screams and someone pleading to you to run away, away from Chan. He scoffed, palm rubbing off the trail of his blood from his cheeks. With the last ounce of strength, you pushed yourself to your feet and took their advice, running to another part of the train.

“Quiet it. Running away won’t do you any good.”

You ignored his words and quickened your pace, never sparing a glance toward him. Chan spun his cane around his arm, counting the seconds after you fleed. The deaths were crawling toward him, each one begging for its soul to be returned to its body but Chan glanced at them, his gaze hollow of feelings. One of the bodies clenched his legs, tugging on his trousers as it whimpered.

Bending down, he hauled its hand and twisted it before crashing its skull wide open with his legs. He picked up the body and tossed it to the side, sighing.

He was having fun with you, can't they stop mourning over their fate?

You reached the end of the train, so completely out of breath that you thought you could faint at any moment. Your heart was thumping violently in your chest, it was begging to be let out.

“This is exciting!” Your head snapped at the voice, finding him seated on the seat. He had his hand clasped as he wiggled his shoulder in excitement while he approached you, his footsteps bounced off the wall.

“But that’s enough.” His hand unclasped and fell to his side, his cane clacking against the floor. He halted on his steps and glanced toward you, engraving your quivering silhouettes in his mind.

He sprinted toward you, sending your body to crash into the metal structure, breaking a few of your bones. His hand wrapped around your neck, and a choked breath passed your mouth. Your fingers reached for his hand, wrist, and fingers, anything to loosen his grip yet your windpipe was shrinking every air you breathed in.

“It's fun while it lasts” He mumbled, a wicked smile playing on his lips as your face turned blue as the ocean. Your surroundings began closing up, your hand fell away, and strength drained away from your body. He leaned in, grasping your throat even tighter and stopped beside your ear.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp pain in your stomach, causing you to bleed out from your mouth. You looked down and saw his other hand embedded into your stomach.

“Thank you. You really make my day”

His voice and the shouts of death were your last before you fell to the floor.

Outside the train, a shadow was consuming the vehicle slowly.

The train vanished.

“The train is on its way. Please remain behind the yellow line. Thank you for your attention”

Upon the announcement, Jeongin kept his phone back in his pocket and peeked at the other end of the tunnel where the light had seeped in. Later, a gust of wind blew into him, messing his hair everywhere. He scoffed and tidied up his hair with his hand while waiting for the door to open.

He got an interview today, the wind can’t mess up his appearance.

Once the door slid open, a scream escaped him, attracting every passenger's attention as he fell to his butt, trembling finger pointing to something inside. A man approached him and he immediately fished his phone out of his pocket to dial the emergency.

Curiosity piqued the others as they gathered behind Jeongin, eyes widening in horror at the sight.

A girl was lying lifeless in the middle of the train, head snapped at a weird angle as a puddle of blood formed under her. Her face was painted blue and black liquid smeared on her lips and cheeks. The hole in the middle of her abdomen didn't simmer down the storms inside Jeongin's.

That day, the ghost of Platform 8 acquired another precious collection and terrorized the train’s passengers with his art.

#stray kids #skz imagines #skz #bang chan #bang chan imagines #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #jeongin #horror #skz fanfic

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